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Dissent

An Anthology Benefiting Reproductive Rights

Anthology Editors: Brighton Walsh, Nicole French, Kennedy Fox

Proofreaders:

Editing 4 Indies, Sweetheart Author Services, A Quill and a Dream, Melanie Linn Gutowski, Cassidy Taylor, Shauna Stevenson, Kelly Hopkins, Heart Full of Reads, Rose David Editing, Raine Lam, Lisa Hollett, Lissanne Jones, Patricia Eddy, Jillian Liota, Virigina Tesi Carey, Brooke Cumberland

Foreword by: Nicole French

Press and Media: Nicole French and Brighton Walsh

Cover Designer: Opulent Swag and Designs

eBook formatting: Nicole French and Brooke Cumberland

Paperback formatting: Champagne Book Design

Published by Kennedy Fox Books, LLC

All rights reserved. No parts of the book may be used or reproduced in any matter without written permission from the author, except for inclusion of brief quotations in a review. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, establishments, organizations, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously to give a sense of authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

CONTENTS

Foreword

Trigger and Content Warnings

Smut & Murder

Kennedy Fox

Take Two

Brighton Walsh

Marry Me

Nicole French

Lovin’ You on the Isle of Eigg

A.M. Roark

The Hunter’s Assistant

A.R. Hall

The Story of Us

Aarti V Raman

Make Me

Aidy Award

Extra Innings

Alexis Anne

Ruthless Desire

Amanda Richardson

Fate Steps In

Amelia Wilde

Catch and Release

Amie Knight

A Woman’s Right to Live and Love

Amy Quinton

Big Bet

Anna Michael

Queen Move

Aria Wyatt

Bound by Beauty

Ashley Lane

Symphony of Chaos

Autumn Jones Lake

Into the Clear Water

B. Celeste

Pranked Ever After

B.L. Olson

Operation Birthday Princess

Blair Babylon

A Brit Un-Complicated

Brenda St John Brown

Instant Chemistry

Brenna Aubrey

The Broken Cross Series

Bri Blackwood

We Can Turn a Blind Eye

Cara Dee

Through the Dark Places

Carmen Jenner

You Were Always Mine

C.L. Matthews

The Girl Behind the Red Door

Cassie Graham

Breaking and Exiting

Celia Kyle

Gorgeous Savior

Charity Ferrell

Fall For Me

Claire Wilder

Play Happily Ever After

Crystal Kaswell

Broken

Dakota Willink

The Cabin Between Us

Dani René

Prologue to Angry Devil

Daniela Romero

If We Were Villains

Dee Garcia

The Comic Con

Dee Lagasse

The Dom She Needed

Deidre-Ann Anderson

Shards of Hope

Donna Grant

Confessions

Echo Grayce

For This Moment

Eileen Aitkin

Storms and Sex Clubs

Elle Thorpe

Desperate Housewitches

Ellis Leigh

Dust and Roses

Emily Colin

Kiss of Night

Emily Goodwin

One Wild Night

Erica Alexander

His Wrong Number

Erin Parisien

Southern Hospitality

Eva Charles

As Planned

Eva Moore

My Big Fat Southerland Wedding

Evelyn Adams

Property of a Hero

Glenna Maynard

Hide & Seek

H.D. Carlton

Virtuous Lies

Haley Jenner

First Day of Forever

Heidi McLaughlin

Body Work

Holly Mortimer

When She Continued

Hope Jones

On The Wings of Love

Ines Johnson

Unexpected

Iris Morland

Forever in Love

J. Saman

Willa & AJ

J. Sterling

Always You

J.H. Croix

Never Forgotten

J.L. Beck & C. Hallman

A Love So Far

J.M. Walker

Protecting Hope

Jane Blythe

The First Date

Janet Berry

Dance Poles and Tea for Two

Jasmin Miller

The Souvenir

J.D. Hollyfield

The Darkest Night

Jen Stevens

More

Jenika Snow

Love Like Crazy

Jenna Hartley

Turning Pointe

Jenna Lynn

Campus Player

Jennifer Sucevic

Hero Society

Jessica Florence

Birthday Girl

Jillian Liota

Complications

Julia Kent

Come Away With Me

Kait Nolan

Four Nights to a Second Chance

Kat Latham

In the Beginning

Kat Savage

Ink

Kate Canterbary

East of the Sun, West of the Moon

Kate King and Jessa Wilder

Worth the Wait

Kate Meader

My Angel Girl

Kathy Coopmans

Friendboned

KB Cinder

In a Snap!

KD Proctor

Baptisms & Babies?

Kelly Maher

Ride it, Darlin’

Kim Loraine

Second Chance Hex

Kym Grosso

Chaser

Lainey Davis

Cardio

Laramie Briscoe

Her Dark Prince

Laura Hall

Marrying the Bosshole

Laura Lee

Prove It

Lauren Stewart

Irresistible Chance

Lea Coll

Paper Rings

Len Webster

My Best Friend’s Squirrel

Lili Valente

To Love and to Cherish

Linnea May

Gorgeous Ever After

Lisa Shelby

Forever Home

Lissanne Jones

The Billionaire’s Valet

Lucy Lennox

No Regerts

Mary Ann Marlowe

Justified

Max Henry

Last Call

Megan Ryder

Backseat Baby

Melissa Andrea

Tying the Knot

Melissa Marino

Falling for a Friend

Melonie Johnson

A Table for Two

Mia Sands

Breakout

Mignon Mykel

The Cooking Incident

Molly O’Hare

Brute

Morgan Jane Mitchell

His Darling, Madness

Natasha Raulerson

Saving His Heart

Nicole Blanchard

Marrying A Gala Girl

Nina Levine

Promising Forever

Patricia Eddy

Dearest Part-Time Princess

Pamela DuMond

Transcendental

Persephone Autumn

The Whisper Chain

R. Castro

Take Me in the Shadows

R.L. Kenderson

All That We Are

Rachel Brookes

Unbound

Raven James

Between Here and Now

Rebecca Paula

The Second Wedding

Rebecca Yarros

Dirty Trick

Regina Kyle

One Woman’s Ex Is Another Woman’s Orgasm

Roxie Noir

32A

S. Cinders

Saddle Up Cowboy

Sade Rena

Conrad & Wyn

Saffron Kent

The Choice

Samantha Lind

An Ocean Away

Sarah M. Credit

Take a Chance on Me

Scarlett Cole

When It Rains, It Pours

S.E. Rose

Gavin’s Obsession

Shaw Hart

Love Storm

Sydney St James

The Race: Hayley & Christian

S.J. Sylvis

Fated to Be Mine

Skye Alder

A Corruption of Feather and Fate

Stephanie Anne

Mister Series

Suzanne Baltsar

The Switch Up

Sylvie Stewart

Hidden Gem

T.K. Leigh

Protective Streaks

Tabatha Vargo

Bitter/Sweet

Tamara Lush

Haunted Holiday

Taryn Quinn

Simple Smile

Tawna Fenske

# Prenup

T. Gephart

Her Choice

Toni Aleo

Pushing Her Buttons

Tracy Krimmer

Whiskey Chaser

Tricia Lynne

Idol Crush

Trish Milburn

Madman’s Ice Skaters

V.F. Mason

Her Russian Bodyguard

Vanessa Booke

Pas de Deux

Vivian Wood

Her Orc Mate

Zoe Ashwood

Four Fearless Nights

Zoe York

FOREWORD

When we first gathered interest for this groundbreaking anthology, many participants had questions about content rules. Whether or not they could write a specific kink. If they had to write about abortion. Whether their heroines could get pregnant at all.

It was almost ironic, really. In an anthology promoting choice and freedom, our writers were anticipating censorship.

But we live in a world where anyone who isn’t a straight white man is censored in too many ways to count. Not for the first time, people with uteruses in the United States are being told what we can and cannot do with our bodies. “Forced birth” is now a part of the mainstream lexicon. Body autonomy for people with uteruses has been set back fifty years.

Maybe our writers’ questions weren’t so ironic, then. Not when we’re talking about the largest sect of publishing written for and by the population of people affected most by the recent Supreme Court decision to toss out Roe v. Wade. In fact, one could say that imagining body autonomy in a world that rarely grants it is our specialty.

Romance has been dissenting from the beginning.

Romance is and always has been about granting agency to those who do not traditionally have it. As authors, we provide safe spaces for our readers to indulge in pleasure, desire, kink, as well as healthy spaces to process the trauma and pains that characterize our real lives. We, as an industry, imagine diverse spaces of love, sex, intimacy, or other forms of connection where our characters are often given the voices and three-dimensionality we and our readers yearn for in our real lives. Romance exists at the cross-section of fantasy and therapy. Our stories give the most persecuted in our society happy endings—and there is nothing more contrary to a patriarchal society than that.

Our goal with Dissent was to model the inclusive body politics we are fighting for with our content, and so it should be no surprise that, in the end, we cut very little and accepted as many authors as we could to this groundbreaking anthology. In the following pages, you will encounter stories from one hundred and fifty different authors, one hundred and fifty different stories that cover the full spectrum of what romance has to offer. Sweet, historical, ménage, dark, contemporary, paranormal—all of these subgenres and more are represented as a small part of what this community offers its readers.

The writers of Dissent stand firmly opposed to the recent Supreme Court decision striking down Roe v. Wade. We believe, with every word we write, that decisions about one’s body should only be made by that person and their medical provider. As a result, one hundred percent of the proceeds from Dissent and its accompanying auction will be donated to three reproductive rights organizations: Planned Parenthood, the Center for Reproductive Rights, and the National Latina Institute for Reproductive Justice, none of which we are affiliated with but all of which we support. We welcome and thank you, dear reader, into our dissension as you support this very important cause along with us.

Desire is complicated and diverse, and so are our bodies. No one is allowed to tell us what to do with either.

To a world that tells us romance is a silly girl’s dream,

To every critic who has derided us as “smut” or “mommy porn,”

To those in power determined to relegate our readers and writers to nothing more than vessels,

We have only one response:

We dissent.

TRIGGER AND CONTENT WARNINGS

We want you to read with ease and enjoyment, so please be advised of the following potential triggers contained within this anthology.

Abuse (physical, emotional/mental)

As Planned

Confessions

Simple Smile

Turning Pointe

Acts of Violence or Graphic Violence

Angry Devil - Prequel

As Planned

Her Orc Mate

Hero Society; A Night Out

His Darling, Madness

If We Were Villains

Protecting Hope

Symphony of Chaos

Through the Dark Places

Turning Pointe

When She Continued

Addiction (Drug Use, Alcoholism)

Angry Devil - Prequel

Death of a Child (off page)

Dust and Roses

Death of a Parent (off page)

Dust and Roses

Idol Crush

Paper Rings

Human Trafficking

Protecting Hope

Illness

Between Here and Forever

Kidnapping

As Planned

Breaking & Exiting

Promising Forever

Property of Hero

Mental Health (included but not limited to: PTSD, panic attacks, depression, anxiety, self-harm, suicide, suicide ideation, personality disorders, eating disorders)

A Corruption of Feather & Fate

Dust and Roses

His Darling, Madness

His Wrong Number

Madman’s Ice Skaters

Paper Rings

Promising Forever

Shards of Hope

Through the Dark Places

Turning Pointe

Murder/Death (off page/discussions of)

A Corruption of Feather & Fate

A Woman’s Right to Live and Love

Confessions

Dust and Roses

Her Orc Mate

His Darling, Madness

Paper Rings

Protecting Hope

Simple Smile

Smut & Murder

We Can Turn A Blind Eye

Willa & AJ

Murder (on page)

Her Orc Mate

Hero Society; A Night Out

His Darling, Madness

Protecting Hope

Rape (off page/discussions of)

Brute

Confessions

Her Choice

Hide & Seek

Protecting Hope

Through the Dark Places

Turning Pointe

Rape (on page)

Through the Dark Places

Turning Pointe

Sensitive Pregnancy Topics or Abortion

32 A

Always You

An Ocean Away

As Planned

Baptisms & Babies: A Grievances & Glitter Second Epilogue

Bittersweet

Broken

Complications

Complications

Fall For Me Bonus Epilogue

Falling for a Friend

Forever Home

Four Fearless Nights

Her Choice

His Darling, Madness

Justified

Love Storm

Lovin’ You on the Isle of Eigg

Operation Birthday Princess

Play Happily Ever After

Protective Streaks

Ride it, Darlin’

Simple Smile

Take A Chance on Me

Take Me in the Shadows

Take Two

The Choice

The First Date

The Story of Us

The Whisper Chain

Through the Dark Places

To love and to Cherish

When It Rains, It Pours

Worth the Wait

As Planned

Ink

Sexual or Physical Assault

Brute

Confessions

Her Orc Mate

Hero Society; A Night Out

Never Forgotten

Protecting Hope

Simple Smile

Through the Dark Places

Turning Pointe

We Can Turn A Blind Eye

Trauma

A Corruption of Feather & Fate (fatphobia)

An Ocean Away

As Planned

Hide & Seek (past sexual assault)

Love Like Crazy

Love Storm

Promising Forever (off page torture, kidnapping, brainwashing)

The Story of Us

Through the Dark Places

We Can Turn A Blind Eye

When She Continued

SMUT & MURDER

KENNEDY FOX

CHAPTER ONE

DYLAN

I ROLL over in bed and immediately wrap my arm around my wife, pulling her tightly against me. It’s the first time in months I haven’t had to rush to work after a quick morning kiss. Today we’re leaving for a much-needed vacation.

After two years of marriage and meeting four years ago in Key West, we’re finally going back.

“Mornin’, baby,” I whisper in her ear, feathering kisses down her neck and bare shoulder. “I can’t wait to soak up the sun with you for the next week.”

“Mm…good mornin’ yourself.” She pushes her ass against my erection, wiggling her hips to tease the fuck out of me.

“Jess. Don’t start something you can’t finish,” I warn, snaking my hand underneath her oversized T-shirt, then lowering it beneath her panties. “Because you know I can’t resist this wet pussy.”

The moment I slide my fingers through her slit, her breath hitches and she arches her back, seeking more. “Then you better fuck me hard and fast so we aren’t late for our flight.”

I thrust two fingers inside her, seeking her G-spot and craving her release.

“Fuck my fingers, and I’ll give you what you want.”

She arches her back, taking what she needs, grinding hard against my hand.

“That’s my good girl, just like that.”

Our relationship may have started as a vacation fling, but after a couple of weeks together, I was obsessed.

Obsessed with her.

Obsessed with needing to be around her.

Obsessed with her taste.

As my best friend, Alex, has said a dozen times, I was whipped.

Nah, I was in love. For the first time in my life, I wanted more.

No woman had ever consumed me as much as Jessica had.

There was only one problem—I lived in Texas, and she lived in Ontario, Canada.

We did the long-distance thing for a while, but it was killing us both. So after a few months, she packed her bags and moved in with me. Besides when I’m at work, we’re inseparable, and have been ever since.

She became an honorary Bishop just like I had when I was a teenager. Eventually, I dropped to one knee and proposed.

After four years together, we’re finally taking a well-deserved getaway.

One that we hope will get her knocked up so we can start our family. The Bishops breed like rabbits and I’d love for our kid to grow up with theirs. Raising my children on the ranch would be a dream come true.

“I’m so cl-close,” she whimpers.

And I know just the thing to send her over the edge.

“I can’t wait to see your round belly with our baby inside. Your tight cunt is beggin’ for my cock.”

“Yes, oh my God, yes…” Her entire body shakes as she moans and soaks my fingers.

“Such a good girl.” I kiss and suck on her neck, my erection pressing against her ass. “You wanna ride me or should I bend you over in the shower?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to both,” she says before I push my digits between her lips so she can taste her sweetness. “But we’re on limited time.”

Before I can respond, she spins around and pushes me on my back, then straddles my hips. “Time to put a baby inside me.”

She removes my boxers, throws off her T-shirt and panties, then grabs my hard length. The moment she lines us up and slides all the way down, we groan in unison.

“Fuckin’ hell.” I squeeze her hip while her tits bounce in my face, and I lean up to pull a nipple into my mouth.

From the first time we ended up between the sheets together to now years later, it never gets old. I love my wife more and more each day, and the thought of being without her makes me obsessively more possessive.

Plenty of men who visit the bed and breakfast on the ranch have catcalled her, and I’ve had to put them in their place. It’s not made me popular among Rose Bishop—Alex’s mom and the boss—but she’s used to her boys starting trouble. To this day, she considers me one of her bonus kids, and isn’t afraid to scold me if I cause a scene.

Jessica throws her head back and moans as I slide my thumb over her clit. She grinds harder and faster until she’s squeezing my dick. And it’s the most gorgeous sight I’ve ever seen.

Once she’s floated down from her orgasm, I flip us over and lift her legs before driving back inside her. Her heels rest on my shoulders as I thrust deeper.

Our mouths crash together in a heated bliss. The buildup begins at the bottom of my spine and as I tense in anticipation, I bury my face in her neck.

“Such a good girl takin’ all my come, baby. Your swollen belly is gonna keep me hard for the next nine months.”

“That’s if I can get pregnant,” she murmurs after I fill her full.

“We won’t stop until you are, sweetheart.” I cup her face and press my lips to hers. “Whatever it takes.”

ONCE WE’VE SHOWERED and dressed, we finish packing the essentials, and then I load our bags into the truck.

“That everything?” I ask, looking around the house to make sure we didn’t forget anything.

“I think so.” She approaches me in her beautiful sundress accompanied by a large yellow hat. “Can I pass as a southern beach goddess?” she asks, spinning around with a wide smile.

Wrapping my arm around her waist, I pull her body to mine. “You’re beautiful. But I plan to have you naked ninety-five percent of the time, so it doesn’t matter what you wear.”

Jessica chuckles. “As long as you feed me in between and let me soak up the sun a few hours a day, you can do whatever you want to me, Cowboy.”

I lower my hand and smack her ass. “Deal.”

Then I lead her outside. As soon as we’re on the gravel road, we pass the barns and wave to the ranch hands. All of them return the gesture except Alex and his older brother Jackson who salute me with their middle fingers.

Laughing, I shake my head. Jealous assholes.

I haven’t been to an airport or on a plane since the first time Alex and I flew to Key West. Today’s crowd seems bigger and busier than before. Usually, we drive everywhere, but Jessica wanted to fly, so here we are.

Once we check in and drop off our bags, we find our gate then eat at a little restaurant that’s close while we wait.

“Maybe our next trip can be to Canada so my family can meet the baby,” Jessica suggests, hopeful that she’ll get pregnant this month. I want to do everything in my power to make that dream come true. We’ve just started actively trying.

I reach my arm across the table and grab her hand.

“Let’s plan for it. Ten months from now, we’ll go visit.”

CHAPTER TWO

JESSICA

AS SOON AS the Florida sun beams on my face, I’m transported back to the first time I visited.

I booked a self-care vacation after my boyfriend of three years dumped me. On our anniversary.

When we went to dinner, I anticipated him finally popping the question. Instead, I was blindsided when he confessed he was having an affair with his intern. The only reason he was telling me was because she’d gotten pregnant.

It was devastating because I saw a future with him. So a couple of weeks later, I took a trip to Key West while he moved his shit out of my apartment.

Traveling alone wasn’t the smartest, but I was heartbroken and not thinking clearly. I knew I had to get away and find myself again. I’d been so consumed with my ex that I missed all the signs that something was wrong. The late nights, secret phone calls and texts, and not coming to bed until I was already asleep should’ve been a dead giveaway.

I was naïve.

But I always give people the benefit of the doubt and assume they have the best intentions in mind. So when I met Dylan Hart at one of the bars in downtown Key West, I tried to play it cool.

Looking back, I didn’t.

Honestly, I’m shocked I didn’t run him off with my eagerness to spend time with him. Meeting him made me realize I shouldn’t have put up with so much from my ex.

The age-old saying of when you know, you know is as cliché as believing in love at first sight. But it’s true.

I let myself enjoy two weeks in the sun with a cowboy I’d just met, one I’d never see again, but the moment I landed in Ontario, he’d already texted me.

All those butterflies women talk about came rushing in, something I’d never felt before.

That’s when I knew Dylan was different, and I wanted to give us a chance.

“Ready, sweetheart?” he asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Yep!”

He reaches for my hand, then leads me into the five-star resort that’s much fancier than the one I booked years ago. Marble floors, big chandeliers, expensive-looking furniture—it’s the type of place famous actors visit.

We check in and head up to our room, which is almost bigger than our entire house. The floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the beach and ocean, making me even more excited to spend some time down there. The water is crystal clear, and not a cloud is in the sky.

“I need to shower off the travel smell,” I tell him when we settle into our room.

“Me too.” He waggles his brows.

Slowly, I push down my dress straps and let it fall to my feet. Then I slip out of my panties and make my way to the bathroom.

“Why don’t you come join me and conserve water?”

Without wasting a minute, he yanks off his boots and removes his clothes.

“Even the shower is fancy,” I say, stepping inside and noticing how each side of the tiled walls has jets with a rainfall showerhead above us.

“It is. There’s so much room for activities.”

I snort. “And a bench seat, too.”

“It’d be a shame to let it go to waste.”

He cups my face, and our mouths crash together. Lifting under my ass, he hoists me against the wall.

“Don’t worry, we won’t.”

After he slides into me—fucking me slow and sweet—he bends me over the bench and slams into me deep.

“Fuck, you takin’ my cock like a good girl is gonna have me coming so goddamn hard.”

And moments later, we both do.

Once we’re clean, we get ready for our dinner reservations. There are no fancy restaurants in Eldorado, and the closest one is over an hour away. So while we’re on vacation, I’m ordering the expensive wines and decadent desserts.

“My beautiful wife,” he murmurs against my lips. “Not sure I should let you out lookin’ like a meal.”

“Mm…don’t worry. You’re the only one I’ll be focused on.”

He smacks my ass, pulling me closer to his chest. “And knowing your pussy is filled with my come is gonna make it hard to stay away from you all night.”

“You’re a caveman,” I quip. Dylan doesn’t show this side of himself often, but I secretly love it. “C’mon. Time to feed me.”

The restaurant is dimly lit and romantic, and the waiters wear sleek black suits. They even serve warm bread and butter on marble trays.

I’ve never experienced anything like it.

“Do you remember our first night together?” I ask as we wait for our food.

“I remember you maulin’ me,” he taunts. “We were wasted.”

“And then you bailed on me the morning after.” I arch a brow, remembering the way he dismissed our one-night stand. I wasn’t mad, but I was determined to find him after that.

“But I came back, didn’t I?” The corner of his lips tilt up in a cocky smirk. “You hooked your claws into me, and I couldn’t resist round two.”

“And three, and four, and five…” I continue.

“Pretty sure we saw more of your room than we did the beach.”

“That’s because you couldn’t get enough,” I say.

He reaches across the table, then grabs my hand and kisses my knuckles. “I still can’t.”

AFTER EATING the most delicious rack of lamb I’ve ever had and ending our meal with the tastiest creme Brulé, we go to a bar for a few drinks.

“Let’s dance,” I whisper in his ear.

“Should we show ‘em how it’s done in Texas?”

“That’s right, Cowboy.”

He takes my hand and we go to the center of the floor. Our bodies sway and move to the rhythm, and when a country song comes on, we two-step and take the spotlight.

Dylan’s always been a great dancing partner. We’ve spent lots of weekends hanging out with the Bishops at pubs and dancing like fools.

“Baby, I’ll be right back. Gotta find the restroom,” Dylan tells me as the song ends.

“Okay, I’ll get us another round of drinks.”

He kisses my cheek, then walks toward the hallway in the back. I gesture to the bartender and order two beers. As soon as he hands me the bottles, Dylan wraps his arm around my waist and inhales my neck.

“Babe. You smell exquisite.”

My eyes widen at the familiar Australian accent. Quickly, I turn around and see a face I haven’t seen in four years. One I’d forgotten about once I met Dylan.

I gasp. “Liam.”

“Jessica. You’re even more breathtaking than I remember.”

“You look good yourself,” I say politely. “What’re you even doin’ here? I thought you lived in Sydney?”

He leans in closer, too close, and I swallow hard as my back presses against the edge of the hard bar. I don’t want to cause a scene.

“I moved here four years ago after I finished university. Studied hospitality and worked my way up to management. Now I run the Grand Marina.”

My jaw drops when he names the hotel we’re staying in. Of freaking course.

“Wow, that’s amazin’,” I tell him.

“The fastest any manager has been promoted,” he states proudly, his eyes lingering on my mouth.

I take a step forward, prompting him to take one back and giving me another inch of space.

Though I hardly remember my time with Liam, I didn’t forget how flirty he was. We’d only spent a couple of nights together before Dylan and I hit it off. I’d forgotten about him until just now.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, but before I can respond, Dylan walks up.

“Who the hell are you, and why are you so damn close to my wife?” Dylan snakes his arm around my waist and pulls me into his side.

“Hey mate, good to see ya!” He smacks his hand on Dylan’s shoulder, and I wait for recognition to set in. “I can’t believe you two are still shaggin’.”

“Remember Liam?” I ask cautiously. “We met him the first time we were here.”

Dylan’s eyes narrow as his hold on me tightens. “Right. Liam.” He drawls his name as if he remembers exactly who he is.

“Are you on your honeymoon?” Liam asks.

“No, we’ve been married a couple of years already. We just wanted to come back to where it all started.” I smile as the memories resurface. We were young and drawn to each other.

“Yeah? That’s awesome, mate. Are you still friends with Alex and that one girl he was chasing?”

“River,” I say. “Yes, she’s pregnant with their second baby.”

“Wow. Cool, cool. Good for them.”

Dylan grabs his beer from the bar and slightly relaxes.

“We live on Alex’s family’s ranch in Texas. So we see them every day,” I explain.

“Ahh…you traded in a surfer for a cowboy.” He flashes me a wink, and Dylan tenses. “It’s not too late to upgrade.”

“Do you make it a habit of flirtin’ with married women?” Dylan snaps. “‘Cause where I’m from, you hit on a man’s lady, you get hit.”

“Dylan…” I whisper, not wanting to cause a scene. He has nothing to worry about in regard to Liam, but his macho side is blinding him to that fact.

Liam holds up his hands in surrender, cracking a shit-eating grin. “Just messing around, mate. Calm down.”

“No, I won’t calm down. She’s my wife, and you makin’ comments like that is disrespectful. In the South, we don’t tolerate that kind of disrespect.”

“Dylan, it’s time to go.” I grab his arm, but he ignores it. Dylan’s usually full of laughs and playing pranks, but he’s far from that right now.

His whole body is hot, and he looks like he’s ready to blow a gasket.

Liam takes a swig of his drink, his eyes lingering over the glass toward me and once he swallows, flashes a mischievous grin. “I can see why you’re so possessive of her. She was a good fuck, after all.”

And then the gasket blows.

CHAPTER THREE

DYLAN

“THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY?” I fist his shirt, dragging him closer so we’re eye to eye. “You need to mind your goddamn manners, mate.” I mock his accent because I’m so fired up.

“Dylan, let him go. He’s not worth it,” Jessica urges from behind, but all I see is red.

“No, but you are,” I tell her, keeping my gaze on Liam’s. “You need to apologize,” I warn. “To us both.”

“It was a compliment, man. Chill.”

I release my hold, but I stay between him and Jessica.

“Don’t talk about my wife again. Or to her. Hell, don’t even look at her.”

Liam chuckles, the sound tempting me to throw my fists, but I know that won’t end well, even if he deserves it.

“People are watchin’, Dylan,” Jessica whispers, and I finally take notice that an audience has formed. The bartender glares, motioning for us to take it outside.

I poke my finger hard into his chest. “Stay away from her,” are my final words before taking Jessica’s hand and walking around him.

I dig some cash out of my pocket and slam it on the bar.

“Let’s get outta here,” I tell Jessica.

We stay silent as we go outside. The cool air hits our faces as the mild chatter from the other bar hoppers fills the quiet. As soon as I book a ride, I pull my wife to my chest.

“I hate that guy.”

She snorts. “For a second, I thought you were gonna murder him.”

I grunt. “Trust me, I wanted to. Thought that might put a damper on our baby-making getaway.”

She giggles, tilting her head up so our eyes meet. “As much as I appreciate you standin’ up to him in my honor, you never have anything to worry about. I only have eyes for you.”

“Baby, I know. Doesn’t allow him to hit on you and be disrespectin’ you like that. Especially when I was right fuckin’ next to you.”

“He was a skeeze four years ago, and he’s an even bigger one now. Don’t let him get to you.”

Lowering my mouth, I brush my lips against hers. “I will never tolerate someone speakin’ to you like that.”

“Why don’t you put some of that energy into puttin’ a baby inside me instead?”

I grip her ass and squeeze. “You better be thankful we’re in public, or I’d fuck you against this building and do just that.”

“Maybe we can compromise, and you can fuck me against the hotel windows instead?”

“That’s a goddamn deal.”

Our driver finally arrives, and instead of being the quiet type, he talks our ears off. Though the change of subject helped calm my aching dick, I’m ready to get back to our room and strip off my wife’s clothes.

“You two have fun on the rest of your vacation,” the driver tells us when we arrive at the hotel.

We thank him and nearly run through the lobby. Once we’re in the elevator, I cage her against the wall.

“Wanna hear all the ways I’m gonna make you scream tonight?”

She lowers her hand and rubs her palm over my erection.

“I hope this is involved.” Her teasing tone has my cock jerking.

“It will be…after my mouth and fingers take care of you first.”

“Hmm…what are you thinkin’ of doing to me?”

I softly trace over her jawline and pluck her bottom lip. “If you’re a good girl, I’ll make you come over and over until you see stars.”

“I look forward to it, Cowboy.”

Once inside our room, I slam the door closed and press her against it.

“Now that we’re alone, you better not hold back.” My words are her only warning before I take her mouth.

Then I carry her to the bed, and tower over her as I strip off her clothes. As soon as she’s naked, I nudge her legs wider, and then sink between her thighs. I spread her pussy lips and flick her clit, then thrust two fingers deep inside. Jessica arches her hips and grabs my head, fisting my hair as I move in a steady rhythm.

“Oh my God. Yes, right there…” Her loud moans encourage me to go faster. I don’t stop until she gasps and screams out her release.

I meet her eyes. “That was one. Now let’s go for two.”

Thumbing her clit, I add pressure and wait as her body builds up once again. Except this time, I don’t let her come right away.

“Dylan…” she whines.

I move my fingers back to her pussy and twist my wrist as I push inside. As I seek her G-spot, she coats my finger with her juices, and I know she’s going to squirt any minute.

“Rub your clit, sweetheart.”

She bends her knees slightly, reaching between her thighs and massaging over her swollen bud. “Fuck, I love watchin’ you touch yourself.”

“I’m so close,” she says between heavy panting.

I drive in deeper as I switch between harder and faster. “Don’t stop. Focus on how good it feels,” I coax her. “You’re so tight and needy.”

Moments later, her head falls back, and her legs stiffen, then with one gasp, she breathlessly floats off the edge.

“Yes, yes, holy shit…” Her cunt squeezes my fingers as she squirts all over them, and I move slowly as she rides out her release.

“Thatta girl. Fuck, that was beautiful.” I lean over and brush my lips against hers.

“That’s two.”

“Pretty sure that was at least five combined,” she muses.

I chuckle.

Once I undress and she’s caught her breath, I stroke myself and groan. “Get on your knees, baby.”

She does as she’s told and waits eagerly as I feed her my hard cock. Hollowing her cheeks, she sucks hard and fast, knowing just how I like it. Between her tongue and hand working me, I’m ready to blow within minutes.

“Whoa, stop. I’m not comin’ in your mouth.”

Jessica stands, and then I lead her over to the tall floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the balcony and ocean.

“Palms on the glass and bend over. I’m gonna fuck you so goddamn hard,” I promise, positioning her in front of me.

She does as I say and wiggles her luscious ass for me. With a hard smack, she yelps.

“Christ, I can’t get enough of you. Even after all these years, I crave your pussy.” I grip her hip and close the space between us. Then I lean over and whisper in her ear, “Let’s show all of Key West how beautiful you look when you come on my dick.”

“Yes, please,” she begs.

As soon as I position my tip at her entrance, I coat myself in her juices, then thrust in.

“Fuck…” we moan in unison.

“I’m not gonna last long, baby. You have me so goddamn worked up.”

Her palms stay planted on the window as she glances at me over her shoulder. “I’m not either, so break me.”

Giving her exactly what she wants, I pound in and out of her tight cunt. Her passionate moans overpower the sound of our bodies slapping together. I wrap a hand around and cup her breast, then pinch a nipple.

As we move together, fast and wild, the front of her body is nearly flat against the glass. Jessica’s confidently displaying herself to anyone who’s looking. I think she likes the idea of getting caught while I show off what’s mine.

The sensation rides up my spine, and I know I’m about to fill every inch of her with my seed.

Gripping her hips, I give a quick warning and then spill inside her.

“Goddamn,” I growl as I throw my head back and pour everything I have into my wife. I’ll never get over how good it feels being with her. Whether it’s a quickie during my lunch break or a slow and romantic evening between the sheets, it’s always so good.

Jessica moans as she clenches around me, and soon, she’s riding out her third orgasm. I can’t wait to make a baby with her.

“That’s a good girl…” I thrust once more as she screams out my name.

As soon as her body goes limp, I spin her around and crash our mouths together.

“I love you so fuckin’ much.”

“I love you too, Cowboy. Always and forever.”

CHAPTER FOUR

JESSICA

THE FOLLOWING MORNING, my eyes flutter open to Dylan sitting on the edge of the bed with an unusual expression.

“Mornin’, baby.” He leans in and places a soft kiss on my lips. “Got breakfast and coffee.”

“Thank you. Is everything okay?” I ask, sitting up to study his face. I notice his disheveled hair and red, blotchy cheeks.

“Yeah, fine. Just a little tired.” He gives me a boyish smile, and I drop it because we spent most of the night awake.

I go to the bathroom, and when I return, Dylan has our breakfast spread out on the table. He’s opened the curtains, and the bright Florida sun nearly blinds me.

“You went to one of my favorite bakeries,” I say as I pull out the food.

He chuckles. “Kaleidoscope Donuts isn’t an easy name to forget.”

I take a sip of my coffee and grin wide before looking at the handwriting on the side. “Cinnamon roll coffee.”

“With extra whip.”

“I knew I married ya for a reason,” I quip.

“Hurry and eat your breakfast, so I can eat mine.” He waggles his brows, then walks over and steals the other pastry he got me. After he takes a huge bite of the cherry cheesecake kolache, he says, “We really need these at the B&B. Might have to get with Rose Bishop about adding them to the menu.”

“Agreed. I’d eat my weight in them.” I finish devouring the warm bread covered in cream cheese while sipping my coffee between bites.

Dylan laughs as he cleans up our mess. “Are you ready to hear what I have planned for us today?”

My face lights up, and I nod as I change into some cutoffs and a tank top.

“Thought we could do some shopping, grab some lunch, then get froyo for dessert, and lastly, couples massages. And then, if you’re lucky, I’ll let you sit on my face.”

I saunter over to him, grabbing his T-shirt with my fists. “We can start checking things off that list backward.”

He smirks. “Hate to keep ya waitin’, baby, but we gotta get going, or we’ll run out of time. Plus, I don’t want to rush anything when it comes to your pussy.”

Dylan places his hand on my cheek, then leans in, swiping his tongue against mine.

“Mm,” I moan against him, hating that we have to leave.

I throw my hair into a ponytail, then grab my purse, excited to see the sights and smell the fresh ocean air.

When we walk outside, I put on my sunglasses, then Dylan interlocks his fingers with mine. We make our way toward the tourist area with all the cute shops, and when we enter the first one, I smile wide. It’s full of neon-colored bikinis, oversized hats, and tons of trinkets with Florida and Key West written across them.

We look at a few postcards since I promised River I’d bring her something back. I find her a cool magnet she’ll love. It’s a small jar filled with white beach sand.

“Guess that means I gotta get something for Alex too,” Dylan states.

“You better. He’d never let you live it down otherwise. Might wanna get something for Riley too.”

“Smart thinkin’,” he says. After we’ve looked for ten minutes, he gives up his search here. We pay, then go to several other stores.

When Dylan bursts into laughter loud enough to make every person turn their heads, I know he’s found something.

“Okay, show me. I have to know…”

Dylan sucks in air as tears stream down his face. Holding out his hand, he shows me a coffee mug that says: Florida—America’s Penis.”

Now I’m the one being loud and covering my mouth to try to hold it in. “He’s gonna love it.”

Dylan nods. “Oh yeah, I found these for Riley.”

I glance down at a kite that has a beach on it and a cute stuffed bear with board shorts. “That’s perfect.”

Once we’re done shopping, we make our way toward the beach.

“Ya gettin’ hungry?” Dylan asks after an hour of strolling on the shore and through the powdered sand. The warm water splashing against my ankles felt incredible.

“I could go for something,” I admit, not realizing how much of an appetite I worked up walking.

“Whatcha in the mood for?” I ask. “And don’t tell me you don’t know. There are plenty of options, unlike the two choices we have at home.”

He smirks. “You.”

“Uh, uh, uh.” I wave my finger at him. “You told me shopping, lunch, froyo, massage, and then I get to be your second dessert.”

Dylan quickly pulls me in for a kiss in the middle of the sidewalk, and I sink deeper into his soft lips. A moan escapes me and is swept away by the warm breeze.

I laugh, breaking our moment as an older woman curses us under her breath because people are having to go around us. He takes my hand and leads me to a corn dog stand at the end of the street.

“You’d think someone pissed in her Cheerios this mornin’.” He leans in, causing me to snort.

“I mean, you’d think my husband of two years would be sick of me by now instead of making out with me on the streets like teenagers,” I say playfully.

“Oh, sweetheart. I’ll never be able to get enough of you.”

His words still make me blush.

After we’ve eaten our corn dogs and stop for frozen yogurt, we sit on a bench that faces the busy sidewalks. People watching is one of my favorite things to do and not something that happens much on the ranch.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Dylan asks. “Liam?”

I choke on my froyo when it goes down the wrong pipe. “What? Of course not.”

“I was kiddin’,” he taunts, but I can see something swirling in his eyes. “Seriously, I can’t believe we ran into him.”

“It wasn’t something I had on my Bingo card for this trip,” I admit.

“Me neither. But speaking of…wanna share what’s on that card so we can get a blackout?”

“I like to call it my Dylan card, sang in the same tune.”

“Ah, then yes, please let me know how to fill those squares. I’ll dauber that ass all night long.”

“Keep it up, and we’re not gonna make that couple’s massage,” I warn.

At the mention, he looks at his watch. “Better head that way so we’re not late.”

We toss our empty yogurt bowls, and end up making it to the spa with two minutes to spare.

“You must be the happy couple,” the woman behind the desk greets.

After we’re checked in, she leads us to the locker room to change into robes and slippers. It’s way fancier than any other salon I’ve been to. Once we’re ready, another lady brings us to a quaint room with two beds, calming music, and lavender-infused oils. She gives us instructions and time to get settled under the covers. Once we’re in position, two massage therapists enter, and our session begins.

After ninety minutes of pure bliss, I feel like I could sleep for twelve hours. I’m so relaxed, it takes me longer than usual to get dressed. Once we’re ready, Dylan takes my hand and two bottles of water.

“Today was so much fun,” I tell him as we head toward the hotel. “The massage was just what I needed after you bent me in half last night.”

“Guess that means you’ll be ready for another round tonight.” The corner of his lips tilt up into a knowing grin.

When the resort comes into view, bright flashing police and ambulance lights stop me in my tracks. I notice Dylan’s alarmed expression matches mine.

“I wonder what’s goin’ on.” Dylan leads us through the crowd.

It’s complete chaos as we make our way to the crime scene tape. An officer tells us to stay back, but once we explain we’re staying at the hotel, he directs us to a concierge who confirms we’re guests after looking at our driver’s licenses. Another employee chats with a detective in the lobby, and I’m curious as to what the hell happened.

As we walk toward the elevator, the woman shouts and points in our direction. “That’s him! That’s the man I saw fighting with Liam.”

Everything around us moves in slow motion as the detective moves toward us.

“Hello, I’m Detective Noland, and I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“About what?” Dylan crosses his arms over his chest.

“Liam Brookes was found dead this afternoon.”

CHAPTER FIVE

DYLAN

JESSICA’S MOUTH falls open as she gasps.

I look the detective square in the eyes. He’s a big guy, my height, but he’s built like a freight train. Would probably make a good ranch hand.

“His body was found floating in the fountain in front of the hotel.”

Jesus Christ.

“What does that have to do with me?” I ask.

“Witnesses placed you with Liam in the lobby this morning when a fight broke out between you two. Mind telling me what the argument was about?”

“I ran into him on my way to grab breakfast. He got in my face, said some shitty things about my wife, then pushed me. So I clocked him and told him to go fuck himself.” I shrug. “Any man would’ve done the same.”

“I’ll need a written statement for our records.”

“Sure. I know there are cameras in here that can prove it, too. I didn’t lay a hand on him until he aggressively pushed me.”

He nods, then pulls out some forms and asks me to write as much detail as I can.

Once I return the papers, he states, “The surveillance footage has already been taken in, and if what you’re saying is true, we’ll be able to confirm it.”

“Good. Can I go then?” I ask, not wanting to stand here talking to this man any longer than I need to.

“Yes. You’re free to leave,” he tells me as I hand the papers back, glancing over my personal information and statement.

“We’ll be in touch if we need to speak to you again,” he says, handing me his card. “But for now, stay local.”

“Got it. Thanks.” I grab Jessica’s hand, then turn toward the elevators.

She squeezes my fingers tightly, and I can only imagine what she’s thinking. When we’re alone, she stands in front of me and frowns.

“You have some serious explainin’ to do.” She crosses her arms.

I lean forward and kiss her forehead. “I will when we get to the room. I barely touched him,” I defend.

She glares at me.

“I didn’t kill the guy!” I protest, throwing up my hands.

After the elevator doors slide open, we walk to our room. Once inside, Jessica shuts the door, and I can tell she’s not happy.

“I asked you this morning if everything was okay and—”

“I know. I’m sorry. I should’ve been honest and told you what happened, but I didn’t want that stupid fuck to ruin our day. Last night was bad enough, but today, he pushed me too far.”

“What’d he say this time?”

I sigh, knowing she won’t let it go until I tell her. “He asked if you still liked sixty-nine. Then made a crass comment about seeing a naked woman get railed against the window last night and how familiar her tits looked. I lost it because I knew he was talkin’ about you.”

She covers her mouth. “Oh my God, what a creep.”

“Punching him was well deserved.”

A small smile touches her lips. “He knew that’d rile you up and was lookin’ for a fight. Especially since I wasn’t there to hold you back.”

“When I got in his face and demanded he shut the fuck up, he pushed me. When he kept running his mouth, I hit him in the jaw. He stumbled back a little, but I didn’t touch him again after that. Security stepped in and broke it up. As I walked away, I glanced over at him, and he was holding his face and smirking, like he enjoyed pissing me off. Probably wanted to set me up so he could press charges since he didn’t fight back.”

“Regardless if he deserved it, what was runnin’ through your damn mind as you assaulted him in the middle of a hotel lobby with witnesses? He could’ve easily had us kicked out of the hotel. And what if you would’ve been arrested? I would’ve had to spend the whole day tryin’ to bail you out.”

“I wasn’t thinkin’ about nothin’ other than standin’ up for my wife,” I say matter-of-factly. “I’m sorry.”

She walks over to me, and I wrap my arms around her and kiss her hair. “I’m glad you’re okay, though. I would’ve been mad if it’d gone further.”

“I know, but it didn’t. Though, it seems like he ran his mouth a lot, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a lot of enemies,” I say truthfully.

Jessica takes a step back and then kicks off her shoes. “You’re probably not wrong about that, but still, it’s terrifying that someone killed him.”

“Yeah, it is. I didn’t like the guy, but I didn’t want him dead.”

I admire her curves as she takes her hair down. Her cheeks are rose dusted from the sun. Holding out my hand, I say, “Let’s try out the Jacuzzi tub. It’ll help us relax.”

“Okay,” Jessica agrees, letting me lead her to the bathroom.

After I turn on the water and add some bath salts, I slowly undress her. Then she does the same for me.

My thumb brushes against her cheek as I lean in and slide my tongue between her lips. She groans against me as I palm her breast.

“Mm…let’s continue this in the tub,” she suggests.

I hold out my hand, keeping her steady as she climbs in, then I join her. As soon as we’re settled, Jessica inches next to me and grabs my erection under the water.

“Fuck, yes,” I hiss, enjoying the sensation of her firm grip stroking me. I arch my back and push my hips upward so she has access to all of me.

When I reach over, she widens her thighs so I can tease her perfect pussy. I slide my fingers up and down her slit, then rub her clit.

“Mm,” she whimpers, not slowing down her pace. Water sloshes around us as we sink into each other’s touch. When I can no longer take it, I sit up on the edge of the tub and lean back on the tile, giving her access to more of me. Once I’m settled, Jessica wraps her mouth around me. It’s so fucking warm as she licks and sucks my tip, nearly rocketing me into outer space.

Her eyes meet mine, and I reach over, running my fingers through her wet hair, guiding her down. She gags as she slowly puts all of me down her throat.

I groan at how good it feels. “Yes. Love it when you choke on my cock.”

She lifts a brow and smirks.

“I need to taste you, sweetheart. But I want you to be comfortable.”

She pops her lips around my tip. “Don’t worry, I’m not letting you come yet.”

She twirls her tongue up and down my shaft, then meets my eyes again. “And that was just a preview. Wait and see how crazy my hormones get when I’m carryin’ your baby.”

“Fuck,” I groan. “Keep talkin’ like that, and I’m gonna lose it.”

She stands, wearing a mischievous expression as I scoot between her legs. “Take what you need, Cowboy.”

Kneeling between her thighs, I finally getting what I’ve been craving all day.

“Holy shit.” Her legs tremble as I grab a handful of her ass and steady her.

“You wanna come, my greedy girl?” I tease.

“Yes, please,” she begs. Then I give her exactly what she needs until her knees nearly buckle.

After she’s caught her breath, we get out of the tub. “I’m sorry things have been a disaster.”

“Disaster?” She lightly chuckles, leading me to the bed. “I wouldn’t call it that, just a few misfortunate events. As long as I’m with you, I’m having a good time, baby.”

“Promise?” I ask as she pushes me onto the mattress and crawls up my body.

“Absolutely.” I grab her hips as she slowly slides onto my length, then she places her hands on my chest and rocks back and forth.

Neither one of us can form complete sentences as we get lost in each other. She changes her pace and then switches into one of my favorite positions—reverse cowgirl.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she mutters, and when she comes again, squeezing my dick hard, I fall into the deep end.

Once we’ve caught our breath and are cleaned up, we lie naked in bed with the curtains wide open. It’s silent for a while, and I nearly doze off until her voice brings me back to reality.

“You know, although I’ve looked forward to this vacation for months, now that we’re here, I actually miss the ranch.”

I pull her closer, loving the way she smells. “Really?”

“Yeah. Don’t get me wrong, I’m lookin’ forward to spending the rest of the week with you on the beach and eatin’ all the yummy food.” She smiles with hooded eyes. “But I guess I didn’t expect to be homesick.”

“There is something real special about the ranch, and I’m happy you love it so much ‘cause it’s much different than Canada.”

She laughs. “Especially the snow.”

I kiss her forehead, holding her tight. “I can’t wait to raise a baby on the ranch with you, Jess.”

“Me too. He or she is going to be surrounded by so much love and adventure.”

We drift off to sleep, and although the start of our vacation was weird, I’m looking forward to the next several days together.

CHAPTER SIX

JESSICA

ONE WEEK LATER

YESTERDAY WAS our last day to explore the Keys. We’ve stayed busy as we wait for news from the detective. He’s already confirmed Dylan’s story from the surveillance cams, but they’ve kept all other information tight-lipped.

Dylan rolls over and pulls me into his arms. His cock presses into my back. “Let’s eat breakfast before we have to leave.”

I stretch as he continues mumbling in my ear. The warmth of his breath brushes against my skin.

“I saw on a sign downstairs that they have your favorite—avocado toast.”

I fly out of bed, and it takes me less than two minutes to get dressed.

Dylan slides his T-shirt and jeans on. “Well damn. Now I know what to bribe you with when you’re cranky in the mornin’,” he teases.

“I’d do just about anything for some avocado toast. Don’t have to tell me twice.” I remove the space between us, then slide my minty lips across his.

“Love you,” I say.

“Love you more.” He interlocks his fingers with mine, then we make our way to the restaurant.

The majority of people have tall mimosas sitting in front of them. As soon as the server walks up, Dylan asks for three cups of coffee—two for him and one for me. I chuckle, wondering if I should’ve gotten the booze. We place our order, and then I pour cream from the small glass jar on the table.

“Fancy,” Dylan mutters, nearly finishing his first mug of Colombian roast.

Before our food arrives, his cell phone rings. He pulls it out of his pocket and makes a face before answering.

“Hello?” His brows crease, and I watch as he listens.

“Thanks for lettin’ me know,” he says before ending the call.

“Who was that?”

“Detective Noland. He told me I need to come in for more questioning and that I’m their top suspect.”

My face contorts, and I roll my eyes. “You’re lying.”

He can’t hold a straight face for longer than twenty seconds before he cracks. “You’re right. He said everything was good. They watched the footage and confirmed my statement. I’m a free man!”

I snort at his exaggerated tone. “Good. I really didn’t want to bring our baby to visit you in prison.”

Although Liam’s death isn’t a joking matter, I know Dylan would never be capable of killing someone. However, it made me anxious that he was being questioned.

After we eat our food, we return upstairs and pack our bags. We still have two hours before we have to leave for the airport.

I lift my brow, and he smirks as if he can read my mind.

“We’re not going anywhere until we christen this room one last time,” I explain.

“I was actually thinkin’ the same thing.” Dylan gently grabs my hand and leads me to the balcony that overlooks the beach.

“Here?” I ask, biting my bottom lip. “I think it’s the only place we haven’t marked.”

I grin, standing in position. “You’re so bad.”

He slowly undresses me, kissing my shoulder and collarbone as he frees my breasts. The warm air brushes against my skin as excitement of what we’re about to do sets my body on fire.

He slides my leggings and panties down, and I step out of them until I’m completely naked. Dylan takes a nipple into his mouth, and I’m mesmerized watching him. God, it feels so damn good.

He drops down to his knees, and I lift a thigh over his shoulder. Dylan dives between my legs, tongue fucking me before teasing my clit. “You taste so sweet.”

“Fuck me,” I demand. “From behind.”

I know he can’t deny me what I want.

“Now,” I urge. I’m ready to burst.

He stands, spinning me around until I’m on full display to the outside. He slams inside me until I unravel, squirting all over his dick.

“Fuck. Dylan,” I scream out, hearing my voice travel with the wind. He places a strong hand over my mouth.

“Love it when you say my name like that, baby, but you gotta keep it down.” He pants before releasing inside me.

He comes so damn hard and fills me full.

We quickly clean up, then we fall back onto the bed of ruffled sheets. He leans over and kisses the fuck out of me even though I can’t stop smiling.

“There’s no way we haven’t made a baby this past week,” I tell him, feeling hopeful.

“I hope you’re right because I can’t wait to be a dad.”

IT’S BEEN two months since we got back from Florida, and ever since then, I’ve been riding the high of finally getting a positive pregnancy test. As soon as I missed my period, I tested, and we were elated and in shock.

Shortly after that, we received an update from Detective Noland that the police had made an arrest for Liam’s murder. His ex-girlfriend, who he was still hooking up with, realized he was sneaking around with guests from other hotels, so she laced his lube with a high dose of GHB. She claimed it would’ve knocked him out for days once it was absorbed into his skin. She only wanted to give him a little warning about his extracurricular activities and didn’t mean to kill him. The footage showed Liam wobbling back toward the hotel after getting out of an Uber. When he finally collapsed, he hit his head on the fountain and drowned.

It was shocking to say the least. Even though he was a sleazy guy, I’m glad his family at least has answers. The ex is now behind bars awaiting her trial.

No one on the ranch believed us when we told them the whole story. We have our fair share of small-town drama, but nothing like that.

“Are you ready to go?” Dylan asks as I walk out of the bathroom.

“Yep, I just need to grab my bag and shoes.” I smile as I close the gap between us. “Excited to see our little peanut?”

Today’s our first ultrasound, which will give us an estimated due date, although I know it’ll be around Valentine’s Day since I was tracking my cycles.

“I’m more than excited.” He kisses the tip of my nose.

“You know if it’s a girl, she’s gonna have you wrapped around her little finger,” I sing-song as we walk out to the truck.

He smirks as he opens the door for me. “Just like her mama.”

EPILOGUE

JESSICA

NINE MONTHS LATER

“I CAN’T BELIEVE she’s here,” I tell Dylan as I hold our baby girl in my arms. Harper’s so tiny it feels like she might break.

Dylan watches me with tears in his eyes. He’s never been an emotional guy, but he turned into a big softy during my pregnancy.

“I can’t either.”

“She’s so beautiful,” I whisper, rubbing the pad of my thumb over her chubby cheek.

“She’s gorgeous just like you,” Dylan says while he sits beside me on the bed. He leans in closer. “She looks so much like you, sweetheart.”

“She looks like you, too. Those lips and long eyelashes.”

He admires her perfect little features and soft skin.

“I can’t believe she’s ours, and they’re just going to send us home with a baby.” I laugh.

“I know. It’s kinda freakin’ me out a little,” he admits.

I chuckle. “Good thing we’ll have plenty of help with the Bishops.”

“That’s true. Everyone will be here soon,” Dylan says.

“Do you wanna hold her before they come?” I ask.

“Absolutely. I might not get another chance once everyone else steals her.”

I laugh because it’s true. The Bishops are our family, and they love babies.

DYLAN

ONCE I HAVE Harper in my arms, I stare at her in awe and think about everything I want to do and show her. Becoming parents is something we’ve both wanted, and it’s a dream come true. Although neither of us grew up in a large family, we’re honorary Bishops, and they’re just as excited about the new addition. Grandma Bishop has already volunteered to babysit.

“Hey, sweet girl. Welcome to the world. Hope you’re ready to get your hands dirty,” I tease as Jessica watches us.

She giggles. “Yeah right. She’s going to be too spoiled with all these other Bishop boys and will have them do all the dirty work for her.”

“We’ll make sure she learns the ropes. She’ll be ridin’ horses and four-wheelers in no time.”

“Oh God. Don’t say that just yet,” Jessica groans. “But I am grateful she’s going to grow up there.”

“Me too,” I agree.

For the next ten minutes, I hold Harper in my arms, imagining all the fun memories we’ll make.

“Thank you,” I tell Jessica.

“For what?” she asks as I place Harper back in her arms.

“For making me a dad. I thought the day you agreed to be my wife was the happiest day of my life. Then our wedding happened and that was even better. But right now, this is absolutely the best day of my life. Thank you for carryin’ our baby and being so damn strong through delivery. I know you’re going to be an amazing mom because you’re already an amazing wife.”

Tears slide down her cheeks, and I gently brush them away.

“I love you so much, Dylan.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” I say, placing a soft kiss against her forehead. “And I love you too, Harper. Next up is our trip to Canada.”

“I can’t wait for my family to meet her.”

“They’re going to love her.”

As I watch my wife with our new baby, I can’t help thinking about all the adventures we’re going to have and all the memories we’ll make. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for my little girl.

With a smile, I meet Jessica’s eyes. She’s my soul mate and best friend, and I hope when Harper is old enough to date, she won’t settle for anything less.

Read Kissing the Cowboy next if you want to read all about Harper finding her own soul mate.

You can also read Alex & River’s story in Taming Him, when Dylan and Jessica first met in Key West four years ago. Binge-read the Bishop Brothers and learn all about the Circle B Ranch.

ABOUT KENNEDY FOX

Brooke Cumberland and Lyra Parish are a duo of romance authors who teamed up under the USA Today pseudonym, Kennedy Fox. They share a love of Hallmark movies, overpriced coffee, and making TikToks. When they aren’t bonding over romantic comedies, they like to brainstorm new book ideas. One day in 2016, they decided to collaborate under a pseudonym and have some fun creating new characters that’ll make you blush and your heart melt. Happily ever afters guaranteed!

Find our full reading order, social media links, and freebies here: www.kennedyfoxbooks.com

TAKE TWO

BRIGHTON WALSH

CHAPTER ONE

LUNA

Five years and two months after Defiant Heart

THIS WASN’T HAPPENING.

This couldn’t be happening.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” I whispered to absolutely no one.

In a daze, I stumbled my way to the toilet in our en-suite, closed the lid, and dropped down onto it, staring at the innocuous piece of plastic in my hand that had just changed the trajectory of our lives.

Wren was sleeping, but who knew how long that would last? The moms who boasted about their two-month-olds snoozing away for eight hours at a time could honestly suck it. Brady and I were lucky if our little ten-week-old screamer rested her lungs for a couple hours at a time.

I was exhausted, and I wasn’t the only one. Brady was up with her every other night—something a saint of a woman in a local moms’ group told me had been a life and sanity saver for her—so we split the nightly struggle sessions evenly since Wren was finally taking a bottle with expressed breast milk. But he had been back to work for about eight weeks, and I was taking a full twelve weeks off before tiptoeing my way back into leading yoga sessions at the resort and booking massage clients. Which meant I was with our baby the majority of the time, and it was hard—this week especially, when I’d spent several of those days with my head in a toilet while also trying to care for her. I loved that little demon-souled angel face more than anything, but parenting was not for the weak, that was for sure.

And now…this.

My cell phone buzzed with an incoming call—I always kept it on silent, lest I receive a notification after Her Majesty had finally succumbed to slumber—and I glanced over to see who it was. A photo of Brady holding Wren an hour after she was born, a tiny bundle in his massive arms as he stared down at her like she was the whole world, illuminated the screen, and a knot formed in my stomach.

I swallowed down the lump caught in my throat and managed a quick, “Hey.”

“Hey.” His voice was low and comforting, like my favorite blanket draped over my shoulders, and my whole body relaxed at the sound. “I was going to pick up dinner on my way home. Anything sound good?”

“No dinner,” I said. There was no way my nerves would allow me to ingest anything right now. Actually, my entire body wasn’t allowing me to ingest anything right now, hence my testing on a whim. “I just need you to come home. Like, right now.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked. Demanded, really, his tone slipping from relaxed—or as relaxed as my uptight husband could be—straight into that scary sheriff voice I knew and loved so much.

“Nothing.” Shaking my head, I breathed out a watery laugh and closed my eyes. “Everything. Just get here, all right?”

“Is Wren okay?”

A small smile tugged up the corner of my mouth at the worry in his tone. Always the protector, that one. “She’s fine. Actually sleeping for once, but it’s already been forty minutes, so who knows how long we have.”

He hummed in acknowledgment, then asked, “Are you okay?”

“Just…get here.”

“Luna.”

“Please,” I said, my voice breaking on the single syllable.

He swore under his breath. “I’ll be there in five.”

I didn’t know if it had been five or ten—or, more likely, two—minutes until Brady appeared in the doorway. No doubt looking for who or what had caused his wife displeasure, he darted his gaze around the en-suite—first to Wren’s little baby bath leaning against the wall, then to my discarded pile of spit-up-encrusted dirty clothes that I hadn’t had the energy to wash, and finally to his very disheveled wife sitting on the toilet wearing nothing but a ratty T-shirt, a pee stick clutched in her hand.

He ate up the space between us in three quick strides, then squatted in front of me, his hands braced on the outsides of my thighs as he glanced down at what I held between us. Bringing his eyes to meet mine, he lifted a brow. “Is that what I think it is?”

I barked out a hysterical laugh, far too loud considering Wren was just two doors down. “I don’t know, is it? Because I sure as hell didn’t think about this. I wasn’t thinking about it at all. Why are you thinking about this?” I asked, waving the stick around, my voice growing shriller with each second that passed.

He wrapped his fingers around my wrist before plucking the pregnancy test out of my hand. Turning it toward him, he glanced down at the digital reading that very clearly stated pregnant, his brows twitching the slightest, but otherwise, he kept his face neutral.

Neutral.

After just finding out we were going to be parents. Again. And our first child wasn’t even three months old.

I braced my hands on his shoulders and gave him a little shake. Or I tried to. The man was a brick wall and didn’t budge an inch. “Oh my god, why aren’t you freaking out?”

“I’m trained to be cool, calm, and collected in an emergency, lawbreaker.”

Even his nickname for me couldn’t calm me down.

“Well, this is definitely an emergency! I mean, what the fuck? What the fuck?”

“Yep, pretty sure it was all the fucks that got us here.”

“Brady.” I swallowed over and over again, willing the lump in my throat to recede, but the bastard just grew larger until it expanded so much, I could barely speak. Finally, I choked out, “I don’t know if I can do this again.”

“Okay.” He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to him, gathering me in his lap as he sat on the floor with his back against the wall. He reached up and brushed my bedraggled hair back from my face, his touch so soft and sure. “You can, though, if that’s what you want.”

“But we weren’t planning for this,” I said.

“You don’t plan for anything, remember?”

“We hadn’t even talked about wanting more than one.”

“I know.”

“And to have another one now? I’m still half delirious from sleep deprivation, and I don’t even recognize my body yet after the field day Wren had with it.”

“I sure as hell do, but I get your point.”

I rested my hands on his chest and kept my focus there as I whispered, “I just don’t know if I’m ready.”

“I understand that, too.”

God, he really did. He understood me better than anyone in my life. He knew what I needed before I even did, and he gave it to me, without exception.

Finally, I worked up the courage to meet his gaze. He was already looking at me—of course he was—his sea-glass green eyes boring into mine and settling something deep in my soul. “Are you?”

“I’m not the one who has to grow a human being three months after just ejecting one from my body. I don’t think it matters if I’m ready.”

I sniffed and poked his chest with my finger. “I blame you for this, you know.”

He lifted a single eyebrow in response, but otherwise didn’t say anything.

“Well, you walk around here, all hot and capable, with your muscles and your grumpiness and your—your eyes. Honestly, you wield them all like weapons, and I’m helpless against them.” I tossed my hands in the air. “And then you have the audacity to do things like take care of our daughter while wearing nothing but gray sweatpants and an apron as you make us dinner.”

“I thought you liked when I did that.”

“I do like it. I liked it enough to pounce on you a week before my gynecologist gave me the all clear to start having sex again. And now look where we are! So, like I said, your fault.”

“I hate to tell you this, lawbreaker, but you wanting to fuck me when I take care of you isn’t going to stop me from doing so. In fact, I might kick it up a notch. I didn’t know the apron was doing it for you so much.”

“This isn’t funny!”

“I never said it was.” He slid his hands under my T-shirt and raised a brow when he found me naked just like he had that first night all those years ago, though these were far less sexy circumstances. “But you’re straddling my lap, and you’re—apparently—not wearing panties, so fucking you is on my mind.”

“I was about to shower,” I said in my defense. “And instead thought maybe I should take one of our leftover tests from Wren because I couldn’t keep anything down again today.”

He scowled, his brows drawing down as he pinned me with a harsh stare. “That’s the fifth day in a row.”

“I know. I thought it was a bug, but”—a hysterical laugh burst free as the tears started flowing again—“the bug is something else entirely.”

He made a gruff sound in the back of his throat and cupped my face as he swiped my falling tears away with his thumbs. Then he pulled out his phone and just started tapping away on it, like I wasn’t in the middle of a complete breakdown. Like we weren’t in the middle of a life-changing discussion.

“Um, hello?” I gestured to myself in all my hysterical glory. “Your postpartum wife is losing her shit here, so maybe get off your phone for a second?”

His eyebrows rose with every earsplitting word that left my mouth, but his focus was still on the screen. And then, finally, he slipped it into his pocket and settled his hands back on my hips beneath the T-shirt. “Your favorite ginger lollipops’ll be here tomorrow, and those peppermint ginger chews you like will be here Thursday.”

I stared at him for all of five seconds before I burst into tears.

In typical Brady fashion, he didn’t say a word, just held me as I sobbed into his chest, clinging to his white undershirt as I soaked it with my tears. He held me in his arms, rubbing soft circles on my back as I lost it, my pillar of strength when I needed him most.

“I just don’t know what to do,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “I don’t want you to hate me if I make the wrong choice.”

“Hey.” He cupped my face and tipped it toward him until he could hold my gaze. “I love you. And I love our little family. No, this wasn’t expected, but I’m not unhappy about it. I also wouldn’t be unhappy if it was just the three of us for a little while longer. Or forever. I’m not the one who has to be an incubator for nine months after having no break, while also taking care of a baby. So, whatever you want to do, I’m going to support your choice one hundred percent.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. If you’re not ready, I’ll make the appointment, drive you there, and hold you after the procedure while we love on our baby girl. And if you are ready, I’ll make sure we’re stocked up on ginger lollipops, massage your feet every day, and build baby furniture for a second nursery. We’re a team, and sometimes that means one of us has to take the reins once in a while.”

“You never willingly let me take the reins.”

“Right now, you need to.” He cupped my face and kissed me softly, sweetly, his eyes on mine the whole time. “But no matter what, we’re going to get through it together.”

CHAPTER TWO

BRADY

Five years and six months after Defiant Heart

MY PHONE DINGED with another incoming text, and I clenched my jaw as I listened to Mrs. Weatherby prattle on about her cat’s every move for the past twelve hours, including the forty-five minutes I’d been here, rescuing said cat from a tree. Never mind the fact that the little bastard walked his ass down himself after I was settled in the tree, fifteen feet off the ground.

Luna had texted me just as I’d pulled up, letting me know my sister had taken Wren for the night—her first sleepover—which meant we had the whole evening to ourselves. Then, she’d followed it up with a picture of her in our bed, completely naked, her hand disappearing between her thighs. With Luna four months along, her baby bump was still small but large enough that it hid exactly what she was doing with those fingers. And the tease only made me want to get to her faster.

From the incessant texts, I could only guess she felt the same.

“—and if he would’ve missed dinner, I would’ve just been beside myself,” Mrs. Weatherby said, stroking her demon cat’s head.

“Well, I’m glad the little guy”—little asshole, more like it—“made it down and can be fed. Speaking of, I need to head home. Luna’s waiting on me.”

“Oh, of course, Sheriff. You give your wife and that precious little bump she has a hug from me, will you? And your sweet Wren, too. Two babies under two, what a delight that’ll be!”

My lips twitched. It was going to be something, all right.

After Luna had taken three more pregnancy tests which confirmed the first, there had been a lot of tears and long conversations. Reassurances on my part that I was going to support her and stand by her no matter what she chose. I was just grateful she had the choice, because not everyone did. In the end, she’d decided that we weren’t getting any younger, and in the weeks since taking the test, she’d come around to the idea of having two kids and having them so close in age. My younger brother’s and my relationship no doubt helped reassure her of that. Much as I oftentimes wanted to strangle Aiden, I could only hope Luna’s and my kids shared the same closeness.

“Sure will,” I said to Mrs. Weatherby. “Good night.”

As fast as I could without breaking into a sprint, I hustled to my patrol car and set my sights on home. I couldn’t remember the drive there or even if I put the car in park—I sure as fuck hoped I did, but I wasn’t turning around to check now. I had more important things to think about. Like the fact that my wife had officially entered the horny-as-fuck stage of pregnancy, and I hadn’t been inside her in far too long. We’d had three weeks of quickies as we’d attempted to work around Wren’s sporadic sleep schedule before the big bomb had dropped, and then exhaustion plus morning, noon, and night sickness had kicked in for Luna. Before that, she’d been very pregnant and very averse to anyone touching her unless it was to give her a foot or back rub.

All that to say, I needed to fuck my wife. And since our sweet, cockblocking angel was away for the next fifteen hours, I planned to do that as many times as Luna let me. If her previous pregnancy was anything to go by, I might actually wear out before she did.

After taking the stairs two at a time, I rounded the corner into our bedroom and stopped dead in my tracks as I stared at the sight in front of me. Luna lay in the middle of our bed, buck naked and fucking gorgeous, her hair sprawled out on the pillow, her nipples puckered and ready for my tongue, her hand still resting between her thighs. Completely sound asleep.

I snorted and shook my head as I strode toward her, shedding my clothes along the way. I grabbed her phone from where it rested next to her on the bed, still open to the messages she’d taunted me with, and set it on her nightstand. Then I slipped in behind her, wrapping my arms around her as I tucked my face into the crook of her neck and breathed her in.

“You’re home,” she mumbled, shifting so her ass rubbed against my cock, encouraging it to wake up. Or wake up more, as it were.

But she was nearly dead to the world, her words slurring together like that one time a couple years ago when she’d gotten drunk off her ass because she’d challenged Mabel to a shot contest. I’d tried to warn my wife, but she hadn’t believed me that the older woman could drink anyone under the table. Luna’d had a hangover for two days after that incident and no longer questioned the stories about Starlight Cove’s resident shit-stirrer.

I stilled Luna’s clumsily shifting hips and pressed my lips to her neck. “Later.”

“I want you…”

“I want you too. Always.” I tucked my legs beneath hers, cocooning her with my body and loving how every bit of tension seemed to seep out of her at my touch. “But let’s sleep now.”

“Okay, but later…”

“Later, you’re either going to be riding my tongue or my cock. Your choice.”

“Why not both?”

I hummed into her neck. “I’ll give you both, greedy girl. But first, sleep.”

The fact that she didn’t call me out on my demands clued me in to exactly how exhausted she was. With my nose buried in her hair, I palmed her round stomach and fell asleep to the cadence of her soft snores.

WHEN I finally woke up sometime later, I was in that space between awake and dreaming where nothing made sense. The only things I knew for certain were our bedroom was now cloaked in darkness, so several hours must have passed, and my wife’s lips were currently wrapped around my cock.

“Fuck,” I groaned, slipping my hands into her hair but not daring to put even an ounce of pressure on her head. While pregnancy sickness had ravaged her, she couldn’t even brush her teeth without gagging and/or throwing up, twice a day, every day for the past three-plus months. And since my dick was a hell of a lot bigger than a toothbrush, I hadn’t felt the glorious heaven that was Luna’s mouth in far too long. “Christ, I’ve missed this. Missed your hot little mouth on me.”

She hummed, the vibration shooting down my shaft, and my previously benched player was all too ready to explode down her throat without much preamble. I clenched my ass and squeezed my eyes shut, repeating penal codes until I had myself under control.

Once I could take a breath without coming all over her tongue, I gazed down at her. The moon was full tonight, so it illuminated our bedroom well enough for me to take in the sight before me. Her eyes were on me, full lips spread wide around my cock as she sucked me from base to tip, and fuck me, watching her wasn’t helping. “Shit. Swing those legs around and sit on my face.”

With a grin, she pulled back and traced her tongue around the head of my cock. “I’m four months pregnant, Sheriff. Much as sixty-nine is my favorite number, I don’t think now is the time.”

“Then down I go.”

“Down you wha—” Luna’s words cut off on a yelp when I tugged her up and flipped us so she was pinned beneath me.

“Down…” I lowered my head and sucked one of her nipples into my mouth, scraping it lightly with my teeth. “I…” Inching farther down, I pressed a kiss to her swollen belly. “Go…” And finally, as I settled between her thighs, I licked a long line up her slit, groaning as her sweetness exploded on my tongue.

“Oh god,” she breathed and threaded her fingers in my hair, her hips already rolling against my mouth.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this too,” I said against her pussy, working my thumb in circles around her clit. “You don’t even have to let me inside you. Just give me a hit of this pussy every day, and I’ll be satisfied.”

She hummed low in her throat, her hips rocking with every thrust of my tongue inside her and every sweep of my fingers across her sensitive flesh. “My husband, such a sweet talker.”

“You love all the dirty things I say when I’m fucking you.”

“You’re not fucking me yet. And I never said—” She cut off on a moan when I slid two fingers into her, pumping them just the way she loved while I sucked her clit between my lips. And then it was only gasps and moans as I worked her harder, faster, until she tugged hard on my hair, her entire body tightening when she came apart beneath me.

I stroked my tongue softly against her pussy, drawing out every ounce of pleasure from her, until, finally, she laughed under her breath and pulled me up by my hair.

“As I was saying…” She caught my bottom lip with her teeth and tugged. “I never said I loved it.”

I hovered above her, my mouth still wet from the proof of exactly how much she loved it. “You don’t have to say it, pretty girl. Your pussy screams it for you.”

She breathed out a laugh and shook her head, scraping her nails down my short beard. “Tonight wasn’t supposed to go this way.”

“No?” I lifted a brow. “How was it supposed to go?”

“Well, for one, you were supposed to be on your back—”

I didn’t wait for her to finish as I rolled us, situating myself beneath her and guiding her to straddle my hips, ignoring the heat of her pussy as she settled on top of me. “Done.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t try to hide her smile as she braced her hands on my chest and leaned toward me. “And you were supposed to be the one coming, not me.”

“I’ll be coming by the end of the night, but I’m going to be buried in your pussy when I do.”

“Hmm… Maybe I want to tease you instead.” She rocked her hips, sliding her pussy over my cock and shuddering with each pass against her clit. “Drive you out of your mind until you’re completely filled with need. Until you can’t help but come all over your stomach.”

I laced my fingers together and braced my hands behind my head. “Do your worst, lawbreaker.”

A sinful smirk swept across her full lips, and my cock twitched at the look in her eyes. That playful glint I’d been drawn to since day fucking one, even back when I thought she was more trouble than she was worth. “You’re going to regret saying that.”

Without waiting for a response, she began to roll her hips faster, sliding her pussy over my length and angling herself so the head of my cock slipped just the barest inch inside her. And then she pulled back and repeated the torture all over again.

But it was the best goddamn torture of my life.

“Christ, you’re gorgeous like this,” I said, my voice rough and low as I forced myself to keep my hands off her. “Using me to get yourself off. Rubbing that hot little pussy all over me, showing me exactly how much you want me to fuck you. I’m covered in just how much you’re loving this, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her eyes hooded, lips parted as she braced her hands on my chest and stared down at me with a lust-filled gaze.

Unable to keep myself from touching her any longer, I pulled my hands out from under my head and gripped her hips, guiding her movements against me. Grinding her down harder, encouraging her to go faster. “You want me to fuck you, don’t you, pretty girl? Want me to slide nice and deep, stuff you full of my cock. Want to come all over me.”

“Brady…” She lowered her face to mine, sucking my bottom lip between hers as she rocked above me, her tongue stroking out to tease me, just like she was doing with her body.

But I was done with the teasing. I gripped the back of her neck and held her face to mine, sweeping my tongue into her mouth and swallowing her moans as she continued torturing us both.

Keeping her face close to mine, I breathed her in, our lips brushing with each exhale as I guided her motions against me. “Tell me,” I rasped. “Tell me you want my cock, and I’ll give it to you. Tell me you want me filling you up. Tell me you want to come while I’m deep inside you.”

“God,” she breathed, shifting her hips enough that she took the head of my cock inside her again, and then she held there, suspended, the heat of her pussy nearly driving me insane.

“Luna.” I tightened my fingers on her hip, using every bit of restraint I had to keep myself from thrusting up into her and putting us both out of our misery. “Tell me.”

“Yes…god yes.” She nipped my bottom lip. “Fuck me.”

With a groan, I snapped my hips up, settling my cock deep inside her. She sobbed out a breath, squeezing her eyes shut as I held her in place above me and drove into her from below. Over and over again, my balls slapping her ass with each thrust as she rocked her hips, making sure her clit rubbed against my shaft with every stroke.

“Fuck, I love being inside you,” I said on a groan, relishing the feel of her on top of me, surrounding me. Relishing the ecstasy written on every inch of her face as I drove us both where we needed to go. “Love feeling your pussy squeeze my cock. Love when you gush all over it. You gonna scream for me tonight, pretty girl?”

She choked out a moan as she rubbed her clit, and then she did exactly as I asked. With her head tossed back, her eyes squeezed shut, she came on a scream, her pussy clenching around me as she shook and shuddered through her release. There wasn’t a sight in the world more gorgeous than my wife coming apart all over me, a look of pure rapture on her face as she took her pleasure from me and gave it back tenfold. After witnessing that, I couldn’t do anything but fall over the edge right along with her. I gripped her hip and thrust deep, clutching her nape and holding her face close to mine as I spilled myself inside her.

Moments later, after we’d both caught our breath, I rolled us to our sides, our bodies still connected even as my cock softened inside her.

She let out a contented sigh and kissed my chest, right over my heart, hooking her leg over my hip and not doing a damn thing to extinguish this still-present desire I had for her. “That was definitely worth the wait.”

“Glad I could impress, Mrs. McKenzie.”

“I never said you impressed me. Just that it was worth the wait.”

We’d been together for nearly six years, and she still loved giving me shit.

“Maybe I have some work to do, then,” I said, lips pressed to her forehead.

“Oh yeah?” She pulled back so she could meet my eyes with a raised brow. “What kind of work?”

“The kind where you’re hoarse tomorrow.”

She hummed, her lips twitching into a smile. “That’s a lot of talk for someone who just—” She cut off, her wide eyes flying to mine as she lifted a brow. “Again?”

I rocked my hardening cock inside her and kissed the corner of her mouth, then skimmed my nose along her jaw to her ear. “And again…and again…and again…”

CHAPTER THREE

LUNA

Five years and eight months after Defiant Heart

“WE’RE NOT DOING IT HERE,” Brady said, his voice hard, mouth pressed in a tight line.

“Yes, we are.”

“No, we’re fucking not.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, resting them on my basketball-sized stomach and arched a brow at my husband. “I wasn’t asking, Sheriff.”

“Luna,” he growled, frustration seeping into his tone. He stepped toward me, settling his open hand on the side of my stomach, right where Bug was currently trying to kick their way out of my body. “You’re not giving birth in our home. This isn’t a sterile environment, and I don’t want to hear about some essential oil concoction that’s supposed to work as well.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not an idiot. Of course everything would be sterile. And the only essential oil I’ll be diffusing is lavender because it helps you not lose your shit.”

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Uh-oh. We were quickly delving into explosion territory. “Sterilization is the least of our concerns. Do you see any medical staff roaming around here?”

“No, but you’re here. You are trained to deliver a baby, aren’t you, Sheriff?”

“I’m not delivering our fucking baby.”

I slid my gaze to where Wren sat playing with her musical table, her baby babbles punctuating Brady’s curses. “You’re really going to have to get a handle on your potty mouth, or Wren’s first word is going to be fuck.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I.” I sighed and leaned into his touch, bracing my hands on his chest. “I know you’re worried, but you always worry about me. About us,” I said, covering his hand with mine as he rubbed it in soothing circles over my stomach, something I wasn’t even sure he realized he was doing. “But there are people who are trained in this. I did a hospital birth for Wren because you bullied me into it—”

“I didn’t bully you into it, Jesus Christ.”

“—and because I didn’t know what to expect and was nervous. But I know now. And I’ve talked to Mindy—”

He snorted. “Mindy used to eat glue in third grade, so forgive me if I don’t have the best confidence in her bringing our child safely into the world.”

“—has trained for this. She’s a well-respected midwife in the area and has been for twenty years, regardless of her former glue-eating habits.”

“She’d need another twenty before I trusted her with either of you.”

“Well, I don’t have a time turner, so we just have the twenty she’s got already. And it’s going to have to do, because we’re doing it. Here. Where it’s calm and peaceful and welcoming. Where Wren can be close, and I can sleep in our bed after I’ve spent hours in painful, agonizing labor.”

“Oh, sure. Bring that into it.”

“Labor hurts. A lot. Shouldn’t I be able to experience it wherever I’d like?”

“Not if ‘wherever’ is somewhere other than a hospital.”

I sighed and stared up at him with pleading eyes. “I don’t want to bring this baby into the world in a cold, sterile hospital room. I want to welcome them in the place we fell in love. Where we’ve bickered and made up over and over again. Where Wren’s spent the first almost-year of her life.”

He pressed his lips into a flat line, his jaw clenching with everything he wasn’t saying. But he didn’t need to say anything at all. I could read every worry, every fear he had. It was written in the set of his shoulders, in the crease of his brow, in the depths of his eyes.

“We’re going to be fine,” I said, softening my voice as I stared up at him. “I have the utmost confidence in Mindy. And we’re nine minutes from the hospital if anything goes wrong.”

“I want you already at the hospital if anything—” He cut off, rubbing a hand to the center of his chest, a move that gave him away every time. “Fuck.”

I covered his hand with mine and stood on tiptoes to press my lips to his. “It will be fine.”

“I didn’t agree yet.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“No?” he murmured against my mouth. “Why’s that?”

I lifted a single shoulder and smiled up at my grumpy, irritating, wonderful husband. “You’ve always given me everything I’ve ever needed. Now’s not going to be any different.”

CHAPTER FOUR

LUNA

Five years and eleven months after Defiant Heart

IT HAD BEEN PERFECT.

Okay, it had been perfectly imperfect, but that was basically the same thing.

When I’d given birth to Wren, everything had been frenzied and overwhelming. I’d been panicking, Brady had been panicking—though he’d tried damn hard to hide it from me—and it’d made for a very stressful experience. Not at all what I’d hoped for or wanted from giving birth. But it had been a hard and difficult labor and delivery, so I was grateful I’d been surrounded by a team of medical professionals for it.

But this… Bringing Hazel into the world had been…transcendent. And so utterly different from Wren, it was comical. Two hours of laboring in our glorious tub before calling Mindy, then another two, and Hazel was here after five pushes, as if she couldn’t wait to arrive. It was nearly the complete opposite of my twenty-six-hour labor and birth with Wren that I could only hope Hazel’s early weeks would be equally as easy in comparison to her sister’s.

Hours after we’d made the requisite calls announcing Hazel’s birth and Mindy had left the four of us alone, I blinked open my eyes to find Brady lying next to me on our bed. Wren was against his chest, her bottom propped on his forearm, her cheek puffed up on his shoulder as she snoozed soundly, and he gazed down at an also-sleeping Hazel cradled in his other arm. They were dwarfed as he held them, this gruff, aloof, stoic man who’d give the world for me and his girls. Who’d wiped away my sweat and tears and rested his forehead on mine while telling me how fucking strong I was when I’d wanted nothing more than to be done with it all. Who’d cried right along with me and our girls as they’d pierced the air with their first screeching breaths.

“You got room for me over there, too?” I asked, my voice raspy.

He snapped his gaze to mine, his eyes softening as they landed on me. “Always.” He brought his knees up and shifted Hazel to the cradle of his thighs, then he held his arm up for me to snuggle in.

I settled against his side, his lips on my forehead as I shifted to get comfortable.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked. “You hungry? Thirsty?”

“I’m okay.”

He grunted like he didn’t believe me, and I knew he was struggling with the urge to jump out of bed and gather me a cornucopia of nourishment against the need to stay right where he was, snuggled into bed with our little family of four.

“Really. I’m fine. You fed me two hours ago, remember? Besides, I don’t want you to move right now.”

He pressed a kiss to my temple. “Just say the word.”

I brushed a finger across Hazel’s downy cheek. “I can’t believe they’re ours. We made them. These two beautiful, perfect little people.”

“Just like their mommy.”

I snorted and glanced up at him. “You spent the first couple months we knew each other arresting me and goading me at every breath—you definitely didn’t think I was perfect.”

The corner of his lips twitched, and his eyes danced with humor. “Maybe I just liked the sight of you in my cuffs.”

“I gave birth four hours ago. Now’s not the time, Sheriff.”

He chuckled under his breath, tightening his arm around me as he pressed a kiss to my temple.

“It wasn’t so bad, doing this at home, was it?”

He grunted but otherwise kept quiet.

“Nothing bad to say—that’s progress.” I smiled against his chest, my heart so full it was near bursting. “Thank you for trusting me to make the right choice for me…for us. Not just with this, but with everything.”

“You don’t ever have to thank me for supporting you, lawbreaker. And I should be the one thanking you.”

I tipped my head back to meet his gaze, my brow furrowed. “For what?”

He lowered his face until our noses were touching, his breath ghosting across my lips. “For you. For this. For giving me everything I never knew I wanted.”

Thank you for reading Take Two, and thank you for supporting this important cause! Did you miss the book that takes Brady & Luna from enemies to HEA? You can check out their complete story in Defiant Heart, or head back to Starlight Cove in Protective Heart, a forced proximity, friends to lovers, grumpy/sunshine romance.

About the Author

Award-winning USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestselling author Brighton Walsh spent a decade as a professional photographer before taking her storytelling in a different direction and reconnecting with her first love—writing. She likes her books how she likes her tea—steamy and satisfying—and adores strong-willed heroines and the protective heroes who fall head over heels for them. Brighton lives in the Midwest with her real life hero of a husband, her two kids—both taller than her—and her dog who thinks she’s a queen. Her boy-filled house is the setting for dirty socks galore, frequent dance parties (okay, so it’s mostly her, by herself, while her children look on in horror), and more laughter than she thought possible. Find her online at brightonwalsh.com/quicklinks.

MARRY ME

A QUICKSILVER BONUS CHAPTER

NICOLE FRENCH

ERIC

I ALMOST DIDN’T THINK it was her.

Aside from the fact that her hair looked like something you’d buy at a cotton candy stand, she appeared so…normal.

Sure, she was wearing all black, with leather pants that made her legs appear indecently long. And yeah, she was still adding an extra inch or two with a pair of chunky black boots. But gone were the chunky studded bracelets, the earrings leading a delicious trail up each earlobe, the heavy black makeup that ringed her cat-shaped eyes. Her fingernails were clean instead of black, and she’d switched her customary concert t-shirt with a sleek silk blouse. Even her chunky glasses had been replaced with thinner, more sophisticated gold frames.

We’d seen each other here and there over the last five years, but just barely, both of us were busy with our careers after graduating from Harvard Law. A lot had changed since then. We’d gone from being law students to being lawyers, and successful ones at that. Skylar and I had even started our own shop just a year ago; Jane had become one of the top Assistant State’s Attorneys in Illinois. Whenever she came to see her best friend Skylar and her kids (Jane’s godchildren), I steered clear of the house. Jane avoided the office I shared with Skylar like the plague. Our paths barely intersected. Until now.

It wasn’t really that long ago, but right now, five years seemed like a millennium. Then again, I couldn’t remember what I’d worn five minutes ago when she looked like that.

It was still Jane. And I was still an idiot. Because right then I also knew there was no way I would ever pass her by on the street. There was no one, absolutely no one in the entire world like Jane Lee Lefferts, and it had absolutely nothing to do with hair color or clothes or any other superficial bullshit.

Jane was Jane.

And that was exactly why I was here, wasn’t it?

I watched her openly through the window of the hair salon as she paid the cashier, not giving two shits that I was basically spying. Her lips—painted a bright, cherry red—quirked as the guy took her credit card. Her brow arched, and she tapped a long finger to her cherry-red lips. I jerked as a sudden rush of memories flooded my mind

Jane on her knees, staring up at me.

Red lips, half-open, begging for something between them.

The rap of knuckles on wood. The tap of leather on flesh. The twist of silk on wrists.

You going to be quiet now, pretty girl?

Jesus, had it really been five years since I’d called her that?

When she hugged the guy inside, I had to force myself not to growl. Remind myself that he was her hairdresser. And more than that, I had absolutely no right to care.

Fucking hell. What was I doing here?

I was still trying to answer that question when the door opened, and Jane ran smack into me.

“What the fu—oh!” She fumbled with her glasses a moment, then pushed her rainbow-colored locks away from her face and looked up in shock. “Eric?”

Her sharp gaze seared up and down my body. I pulled at the lapels of my suit—a custom gray Tom Ford that I’d only bought a month ago. It didn’t matter.

That was the thing about Jane. Her glasses always felt like magnifying lenses, like she could see right through me, past the carefully managed facade with a glance.

How many other women had begged me to open up to them? Pleaded, shouted, cried. I’d always said no. Too many to count. I always knew the second a relationship with a girl went from sex to something else, because she’d start hopping around like a bunny, trying to please. Suddenly, she’d have no opinions of her own. Apologize all the time. Stay quiet or nod anytime I’d act like an asshole, which at some point, I’d probably do just to see what would happen.

But Jane always had a way of poking through my shell with a well-timed glare or sharp retort. And you know what? I actually liked it.

Until, of course, she broke my fucking heart.

Her eyes met mine again, as sharp and curious as ever. And, if I wasn’t mistaken, a little pissed off.

One more thing that hadn’t changed.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

I smiled as her gaze dropped again with transparent appreciation of my suit. Or maybe just me in it. At least the tendency to disorient went both ways. “Nice to see you too, Jane.”

She didn’t reply, just crossed her arms and stared. Still Jane, yeah. Still formidable. I could see exactly why she’d earned a reputation as some of the best up-and-coming talent in Chicago.

“I’m here to see you,” I admitted. “Skylar told me you were having your hair done today.”

“Skylar told you…” Jane muttered distantly. “God, Anne of Green Gables is such a damn blabbermouth. She can’t ever keep her mouth shut. So, what, you just hopped on a plane to witness my makeover?”

Skylar was a know-it-all redhead. Jane’s irreverent references usually cracked me up—unless they were directed at me. But then I usually enjoyed making her pay for it even more.

I enjoyed the way her irritation wavered when I smiled. “Well, I was in town, and I asked her what you might be up to. Do you always tell her when you’re having your hair done? Seems a little codependent to me.”

“Says the guy who stalked me to the salon.” She glanced back and forth between us. “God, look at us. We look like fucking Spy vs. Spy, do you know that?”

I glanced down at my custom suit, a light gray Tom Ford paired with a white Oxford shirt I would have liked to have ironed before coming here. Next to Jane’s solid black, we were a marriage of opposites.

I cleared my throat. Marriage? That was almost too literal.

“I’m wearing perfectly appropriate clothes for mid-May,” I said. “No one said you have to walk around looking like the grim reaper on acid.”

“Whatever you say, Zack Morris,” Jane retorted, almost bored as she pushed her glasses up her nose. She was feigning boredom, but I could tell she was enjoying the repartee as much as I was.

I pressed a hand to my chest like I was about to pass out. “Saved by the Bell? Really? You’ve lost your touch, Jane. I am way better dressed than Zack Morris.”

“Fine, Preppy. You look like Zack Morris after he dropped out of school and started selling used cars.”

We both laughed then, caught up in the stream of insults and nostalgia. It was potent. Almost as potent as the scent of jasmine floating off her. It was the same perfume she used to wear in law school too, the scent that used to linger in my sheets for days, so I’d put off washing them just to remember how she felt in them. Under me. On her knees.

Christ.

I yanked at my collar. “So, what do you think? Do you have some time for coffee?”

Jane blinked, caught up in some sort of daydream of her own. “What? Oh, um…wait, why are you even here? You couldn’t have just called me like a normal person?”

I shoved my hands in my pockets. Hard. No, I wasn’t going to do this here. “It’s not really the kind of thing I can talk about over the phone.”

She tipped her glasses down her nose, examining the tells she once knew so well. It reminded me of just how beautiful her eyes were when they weren’t obscured by lenses. A gorgeous hazel that opened very, very wide just when she was about to…

I shook my head, trying to get rid of yet another particularly vivid memory. Jane flat on her back. Legs up around my shoulders. Crimson mouth open wide right when I slid deep into her––

No. This was going to work better if we could keep it strictly business.

“Is that so, Petri dish?”

I straightened at the use of the old derisive nickname she used precisely to get under my skin. Well, that was a good way to stick a pin in my libido. The monicker was basically her way of saying I’d slept around so much that I was a walking STI incubator.

I’d heard worse, usually after slipping out of a girl’s apartment without saying anything, but the name called back to the reason Jane and I broke up in the first place. Me, flying to Chicago, begging her to make it work. Her, flying back to Boston to tell me she was willing to try. The pair of women’s underwear she found in my bed, leftover from a brief escapade during one of our “off” periods. Jane yelling at me in no uncertain terms that I wasn’t worth her time and never would be. And later, Jane again, her arms crossed while she stared vacantly into a dark night, telling Skylar, not me, that she wasn’t the type who could make a relationship work any more than I was. Jane, for the first time since I’d ever known her, unable to look me in the eye.

Once she knew exactly what she’d get for calling me that. Fifteen minutes back to my apartment. Ten seconds from the front door to my bedroom, two to toss her on the bed, wrap her wrists with a tie, and give her exactly what she was asking for with the leather riding crop we’d bought together just for the purpose of making her beg for forgiveness.

She loved it.

I loved it.

Pressing each other’s buttons. Demanding retribution. Fucking the rebellion out of each other.

Right now, though, I was prepared for her mutiny. Instead, I just waited her out.

A minute or two later, Jane huffed irritably, clearly too interested in my sudden presence to walk off herself. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, sending another whiff of jasmine across the sidewalk.

“Fine,” she said. “There’s a cafe around the corner. We can talk there.”

SHE LED me to some nondescript cafe with pleasant outdoor seating, where Jane’s hair matched the climbing flowers. From the back patio, you wouldn’t know you were sitting in the middle of downtown Chicago. Not that I could.

I sipped my cappuccino while Jane fiddled with her black coffee, clearly unsure of what to say. She kept stealing glances at me from across the table, that keep gaze peppering over my hair, my suit, my tie, all the little things that were different and yet hadn’t really changed at all. I watched her openly, only turning away once she had to reapply her fire-engine-red lipstick. That was still the same. Jane wouldn’t be Jane without those absurdly red, absurdly suckable lips.

Shit.

“All right,” Jane said once she’d taken a long sip of her black sludge. “Spill.”

I opened my mouth to ask the question I’d flown all the way to Chicago to ask but found I couldn’t. Not quite. “Couldn’t we go someplace more private? This is kind of personal. What about your place?”

It was odd how much I wanted to see it, actually. Since I’d known Jane, I’d never seen her make a place of her own. In law school, it was the campus housing she shared with Skylar. After that, it was her room in her cousin’s apartment here in Chicago. Jane was unique, a creature of style despite the lawyerly career. There was no way a place that belonged to her wouldn’t be full of that addictive personality.

She just snorted. “My place currently consists of the couch in my mother’s condo. If you would like to meet Yu-na Lee Lefferts, be my guest. But beware, she is the equivalent of the Bermuda Triangle for boyfriends. Once you go in, you may never escape.”

She was trying to intimidate me. I wasn’t about to tell her it wouldn’t work for shit. I remembered only too well how much I had wanted to meet her family, know her entire life once upon a time.

Then again, I’d never let her in that way either.

“We could go to my hotel room…” I suggested, unable to keep a straight face completely.

It was clear she and I were thinking exactly the same thing. Yeah, if we were locked in a hotel room, complete with a plush king bed and all the trappings, there was no way either of us would make it out of there “just friends.” Hell, I wasn’t sure we’d even make it out alive.

Didn’t mean I wouldn’t accept the challenge, though. Or relish it.

Jane crossed and recrossed her legs, leaning over her drink in a way that caused the collar of her shirt to fall forward and reveal the edge of her collarbone. She was tall, but delicate, with skin I could practically see through. I remembered exactly what that hollow between her shoulder and neck tasted like, remembered exactly how the bone curved exquisitely.

Jane cleared her throat, face reddened. “Hey, you came to me, Don Draper,” she said.

Inwardly I smirked. I knew she was off-kilter when her insults lost their touch. The Mad Men reference fit the suit, but nothing else.

“What’s the big deal?” she pressed. “You worried you’re going to get caught? Got a wife at home who wouldn’t appreciate you sitting with the town whore?”

The insults to me, I could take. To herself, I really fucking couldn’t.

“Don’t talk about yourself like that, Jane,” I snapped. She’d had the tendency to slide in those kinds of remarks when we were dating, and I hadn’t liked them then. The only time I really got protective of her was when she beat up herself.

Jane’s cherry-red mouth dropped at my harsh tone, and I had to resist reaching out a hand to close it. Desire painted itself across her face like another bit of makeup.

I shivered. She shivered. It was probably seventy degrees out here right now, but we both had goosebumps raised up and down our arms.

Get it together, you moron, I chastised myself inwardly.

There was no time for flirting. Or punishments. There was no time for the past. I had a future to contend with, and Jane was the only one who could make it work.

Even now, I was sure of that.

So I shrugged. Now or never.

“Fine,” I said. “It’s like this. I’m in a bind, and I need some help.”

Jane waved a lithe hand. “Intrigued. Do go on.”

I sighed. I’d practiced

“You…remember a bit about my family.”

She frowned. “Not really. You barely talked about them. Upper East Side. I assumed kind of rich. And you hate them. Haven’t spoken to them for years. Still estranged?”

I grimaced. “Something like that. Well, until last week. I was called home—”

“Called?” She balked. “Like a husky?”

“Like an heir.”

That shut her up. For a second, anyway.

“What do you mean…an heir?”

I sighed. This was always going to be the hardest part. “My family is well off. More than most. They own a large company, De Vries Shipping Industries, which makes us wealthy. There’s a lot on the line, and after my father died when I was a kid, I became, the, ah, default heir to the family fortune.” I gripped my knees hard. I hated the sound of all of this. “You know I tried to put it all behind me. But last week, my grandmother—Celeste de Vries—asked me to come home for a visit. First one in over ten years.”

“And you just trotted on?”

“She said it was an emergency. She’s old and sick. So I went.” I shrugged. There really wasn’t any way to explain my grandmother sitting in the middle of her Park Avenue Penthouse, bookended by her butler and an oxygen tank, not because she wanted to be there, but because she was too frail to go anywhere else. Tiny as she was, Celeste de Vries had only ever been a titan, a shadow of competence and manipulation my entire life.

She was still that. But sick too. And for the first time in a long time, I couldn’t say no to her.

“She’s old-fashioned,” I said. “And dying. And her final wish is to see me—her prodigal heir—married with a family before she goes. Enough that she is threatening to sell off all her shares of the company, including those promised to my aunt and cousins and other extended family members, if I don’t get married within six months and stay that way for five years. And try to produce an heir within that time.”

By the time I was finished, I’d lost any appetite for the subpar cappuccino in front of me. For a so-called Italian bakery, they didn’t know a damn thing about espresso.

I turned my cup in its saucer, then glanced up and found Jane’s mouth half-open again, hazel eyes goggled behind her gold rims.

“Produce an heir?” she said a little more loudly than was strictly necessary. “Who are you, Prince William of the shipping industry? You have to protect your family’s divine right to trade routes?”

A few of the other diners looked up. My hand clenched into a fist.

“Shhhh! The whole fucking city doesn’t need to hear this, Jane.”

“Let me get this straight,” she continued as if I hadn’t said anything, assuming the same position she used to when we were studying tort law. “You’re not just Eric de Vries, generically wealthy Harvard graduate. You’re Eric de Vries, as in De Vries Shipping, heir to one of the largest companies on the planet. Have I got that right?”

I shrugged again. She was cross-examining me, and I wasn’t interested. “It’s just a name.”

Jane scowled, now the one to lose her cool. Inwardly, I threw up a fist of victory.

“You don’t need to act like I only found out you drink whole milk instead of two percent, Mr. First-in-Line,” she said. “It’s not just a name. And we’re not talking a few measly million, are we? We’re talking, shit, we’re talking Jackson Anderson-levels of cash, aren’t we? As much as Brandon, even?”

I shrugged. Again. Brandon, Skylar’s husband, was one of the richest men in Boston, worth somewhere between four and eight billion dollars, last I checked.

And he had nothing on me.

“More?” Jane pressed, clearly reading me like a damn book. “How—how much?”

I sighed. “Jane, you can look up this information easily on Forbes or WSJ.” Honestly, I was always surprised she hadn’t. Jane was smart. She did her research on everything. Except me, apparently. Never me.

She was going to make me say it.

“Yeah, but I want to hear it from the super-rich horse’s mouth,” she confirmed. “How much does it cost to buy eternal playboy Eric de Vries with a sweet church wedding?”

Sweet. Church. Wedding. Christ. She really wasn’t understanding the point of this conversation, was she? The Jane I knew was perceptive like the tip of a knife. There was no way she was that oblivious, right? Which meant she was teasing. She was toying with me.

Maybe I didn’t have to ask. Maybe I’d come here for nothing.

Even so, I told her right through my teeth. “Seventeen billion dollars.”

Coffee sprayed across the table, forcing me back in my chair. I checked over my suit, but I’d escaped Jane’s shock. When I looked up again, she was frozen in place, though her deft mind was clearly moving, processing the magnitude of my family’s wealth.

But that was just it. It was my family’s, not mine. I was doing this for them, not me. In five years, I’d move on, just like I had before. Go back to the little firm I’d started in Boston. Maybe use my mother’s name again instead of de Vries. And Jane and I could go right back to hating each other like nature intended.

My stomach turned. I chose to sit back and ignore the feeling while I waited for Jane to collect her thoughts.

“GOOD GOD, you’re really not just a random rich kid,” Jane said at last. “You’re a fucking dynasty. But who requires a marriage contract to grant an inheritance? The Tudors? Is your grandmother completely batshit or only beginning her decline into dementia?”

And there we were. Back to the cross-examination with a touch of history. Vaguely, I wondered if she used this technique with witnesses on the stand. Smothered them with pop-culture references until they were too flabbergasted to lie.

“She’s an old, rich, dying sociopath,” I said. “So, it pretty much amounts to the same thing. But it’s not about the money. The firm’s doing fine with Skylar and Kieran, it really is. I don’t need or want to chair the board of directors of DVS.”

“Then why do it? You already told your family where to stick it once before, though for what, I don’t know. Why pander to this medieval bullshit? You don’t even like these people.”

I grimaced inwardly. I could go there. Tell her about Penny. About what happened at Dartmouth. About all the reasons why, ten years ago, I’d walked away from my family for good.

But then she might say now.

“I don’t even know most of them,” I said simply. “They are terrible people, all of them. But I don’t think that means they should lose everything they have. No one deserves that.”

It was the truth. Maybe not all of it. But it was still the truth.

“Okay…” Jane wasn’t buying it, but she seemed to remember too when I wasn’t going to break. “I mean, it’s your choice to sacrifice five years of your life, I guess. But…how come you never told me before that you were the crown prince of New York City? Jesus Christ, Eric. You once invited me home to meet these people. Were you ever going to tell me who they really were?”

I took a deep breath. Yeah, I remembered that weekend. It was when I finally told her I loved her. That I’d been in love with her for three years. That I’d never met a single person like her and never would. I had plans to tell her everything. Throw her to the lions, sure. But only so we could escape the den together and maybe, just maybe, start a real life together.

Instead, she had freaked out.

“I would have gotten around to it,” I replied. “But who they are didn’t matter then. It matters now.”

“Honestly, Petri. I feel like I never even knew you.”

I tensed. There was that damn joke again. It really did make me want to take her over my knee.

Still, there was a wistful edge to her voice I couldn’t shake off. One that told me she was remembering old times too. Not just sex, but something else. Moments in bed. Gray eyes meeting her hazels. Both of us finally finding a way to stay put with a person for once in our damn lives.

Yeah. I missed that too.

And really, wasn’t that why I was here?

“You knew me better than anyone, Jane,” I said honestly.

She looked up from where she had clearly been lost in her thoughts, just like me. “Did I?”

“By a long shot.”

Jane took a sip of her coffee, then eyed me for a good long time. I didn’t move a muscle.

Then I took a final drink of espresso and then a very deep breath. This was the time. It was now or never.

“Which is why,” I continued, “I’m hoping you’ll be the one to do it.”

Jane’s brows furrowed “The one to do what?”

I took my time. Set down my coffee cup. Leaned forward across the table. And made sure I was looking directly at her without a shadow of doubt on my face.

“The one who’ll marry me.”

The words were bullets, the way Jane shot backward in her chair like she wanted to dive under the table and protect herself from a firefight. Shock played over her expressive face, followed by curiosity, then desire.

And then, as my heart sank, fear.

Because she remembered, just as I did, the way we had burned like rockets, and then crashed just as hard. A different kind of firefight. Where we were both the missiles.

“It was five years ago,” I pressed on, more out of panic than anything else. “We were stupid twentysomethings. The timing was off. Now, we’ve grown up, become more accomplished, and there’s nothing keeping you from coming back to Boston and marrying me.”

Her red mouth opened and closed a few times. Part of me wanted to ask her to wipe off the damn

“Wait, wait, wait…you’re asking me to be your…bride?”

“I—er—”

For some reason the word “bride” had me gasping for breath.

It was what I was asking. But was I really asking for that?

An image of Jane appeared in my mind’s eye. Pink hair and all, dressed up in a big white dress, a veil, flowers, the whole nine yards, walking down the aisle of some massive cathedral.

That alone was shocking,

And even in my imagination, all I wanted was her.

She didn’t wait for me to answer, and when I returned to my senses, she was bent over the table, cackling like the wicked witch of the West.

I scowled. She just laughed harder.

“Me?” she choked out. “Marry you? Playboy, consummate-bachelor, super-bro lawyer, and soon-to-be shipping magnate you? You don’t even believe in marriage!”

“We’ve been over this,” I grumbled. “I do now. I have to.”

“Still, even if you wanted to have a sham marriage and fuck around like other men of your ‘station,’ those men don’t marry women like me. They marry the ‘ee’-girls.”

I frowned. “‘Ee’-girls?”

Jane just snorted. “Yeah. Future Stepford wives. The ones whose names all end with the sound ‘ee.’ Lindsay. Katie. Sherry. Laurie. They have black Amex cards and love their pearl necklaces—and I don’t mean the dirty kind. Well, not unless you give them some Tiffany’s first. Then you’ll get a nice, prim BJ before they let you come all over their surgically perfected tits.”

I almost choked on my coffee. I don’t know why her response surprised me—Jane’s insults were always surgically precise. She had no idea how close she was to the truth. It would be easy. Return to the fold as Celeste de Vries’s prodigal grandson and heir to the family fortune. I’d have my pick of debutantes, no doubt about it. I could practically throw darts.

It would be easy, yeah. But fun? Not a chance.

“And you…you want to take me, confrontational, unfiltered, half-Korean, candy-haired me, home to marry?”

Her laughter was echoing all over the patio. I waved grimly at a few of the other coffee drinkers. A studious man in glasses glared at me over his computer screen. Yeah, well, fuck off, man. You try proposing to this one and see how it goes.

“Oh, God,” she wheezed. “Oh, God, that’s good. Can you imagine it? They’ll think I’m a mail-order bride. I’d be the end of your poor grandmother. Your uptight family would freak!”

I grinned. I couldn’t help it. Finally, we were on the same page. I reached out and grabbed a strand of her hair—a very, very pink strand, woven with blue and green to boot. It looks like a cheerleader’s pom-pom, streamers at a birthday party, or something equally. Worlds upon worlds away from the antique-laden, beige and cream drawing rooms of the Upper East Side.

“That’s kind of the point…” I said, and then before I could help myself, “pretty girl.”

Jane’s mouth clapped shut. “What?”

My smile curved into a sly grin. Yeah, I knew exactly the effect of that phrase. She called me “Petri Dish,” insulting my responsibility and devotion to her. And I would just come back with the last thing she considered herself. Was it infantilizing? Maybe. But deep down, Jane never considered herself pretty. Or particularly girlish. She never realized that I thought of her as the epitome of both, that “pretty girl” was the only way I could tame the fact that I considered her the most magnificent woman I’d ever met.

And somehow, whenever I reminded her, I couldn’t help reminding her of exactly how she belonged to me too. In every way possible.

Her hazel eyes blinked through her glasses, and she bit her lip, sucking in a short breath. My pants tightened. For a second, I considered wrapping my fist with her silky hair, yanking her across the table, and teaching her the lesson she’d apparently forgotten in the intervening five years. I considered conquering that mouth all over again, sucking on that bottom lip, teasing the rest with my tongue until she was breathless and begging for more.

Suddenly my collar was tight too. Jane’s eyes were wide with promise and possibility.

I released her. I needed one thing from her right now, and it wasn’t sex. Right?

Right.

We both sank back into our chairs as if sexual tension hadn’t essentially handcuffed us together for a few seconds. Still, I kept her hand in mine, unable to stop playing with it completely. Unable to imagine a diamond ring on that finger.

“It’ll be mutually beneficial,” I told her. “Jane, you’re the only one who could make it bearable. I can save my family’s fortune and stick it to my grandmother at the same time. What’s not to like about that?”

She continued watching the way my thumb pressed into her fingers.

“Right,” she said. “Well. As funny as the Christmas cards will be, I’m not sure I want to be a tool for you to engage in some delayed teenage revenge. What’s—what’s in it for me?”

I took a deep breath. Now was the moment. She wouldn’t be asking if she didn’t really want to know.

“Twenty million dollars.”

The number shocked even me. I was planning to offer five. A million a year would change anyone’s life. Instead, I was offering four times that. And, I realized, I’d probably offer more if she wanted.

Jane was frozen. “Come again?”

With some reluctance, I returned her hand and sat back, prepared to go over negotiations like we were at my office. It was better this way. Lay the numbers out. Blind her with them. Make her an offer she couldn’t refuse.

“Twenty million dollars,” I repeated. “You move back to the East Coast. We get married. You live with me for five years. That’s it.”

Jane’s face twisted. “How romantic.”

“None of this is romantic,” I agreed, trying not to feel regret. “That’s also the point. I don’t need someone who is going to get attached, Jane, who thinks I’m her knight in shining armor. I need someone who knows the score. Who knows exactly what kind of person I am.”

“You mean the fact that you’re a heartless bastard?”

“I wouldn’t call it that,” I said, more to myself than to her. “But…sure. Someone who knows what I’m capable of and what I’m not.”

I didn’t move, not wanting to show her how much the accusation hurt. Her words were sharp, no sign of jokes about them. Yeah, five years really hadn’t been enough time. We could play cat and mouse all we wanted but when it really came down to it, it was going to take more than twenty million dollars to unbreak Jane’s heart. And maybe mine too.

Still, that didn’t mean I wasn’t up for the challenge. And as I watched her fiddling with her cup, discomfort and bitterness flitting over her porcelain skin, I found I wanted to take it on. I wanted to do whatever I could to make sure Jane Lee Lefferts never called me a heartless bastard again.

Still, if it could get her in the door…

“And at the end of five years, you walk away with twenty million to do whatever the fuck you want,” I told her, going on a hunch. “Practice law or don’t. Design clothes. Open up that shop you used to dream about.”

Her head shot back up, tossing her waves over her shoulders. She was surprised I remembered. I wanted to tell her I remembered everything—every fucking thing—about her. I remembered how badly I’d wanted to make her happy, and how pissed I’d been when I fucked it all up. I wanted to tell her the truth—that this was all a ruse. That my grandmother had handed me an excuse to get Jane back into my life.

Because right then, I knew the truth myself, even if I wasn’t ready to admit it:

I’d do whatever it took to make Jane’s dreams come true. Even if that meant sacrificing every one of my own.

“Come on, Jane…” I prodded gently. “Say what you want, but you and I always did have a good time.”

Still she didn’t speak, lost in her own thoughts. That beautiful mind of hers always did race, to the point where I could never quite guess what she was thinking. I loved that about it.

Loved. Fuck.

“Jane?” I asked again, starting to get nervous. She still hadn’t made a noise, and for someone as vocal as Jane, that wasn’t a great sign.

Or wasn’t it?

She looked up, an answer at her lips, though nothing emerged.

“Well?” I pressed, unable to hide my nerves. I felt like I was on trial for my life, not for a fake marriage with the former love of my life. “What do you think?”

And it was then I knew that it didn’t really matter what she said or how she answered. I’d never stop asking her this same question. Maybe it would take a few months, or maybe it would take ten years. But I’d win Jane back somehow.

Which was why she only surprised herself by saying “I’ll think about it” in the end.

I left the cafe feeling like she was already mine, like I was already a married man.

After all, it was only a matter of time.

Thank you for reading! “Marry Me” is the alternate POV version of an early chapter from The Hate Vow, a fake-marriage, enemies-to-lovers, second-chance billionaire romance. If you’d like to read Eric and Jane’s complete story, check it out here: https://shor.by/thehatevow

About the Author

Nicole French is a USA Today bestselling author of contemporary romance. She’s also a hopeless romantic, Springsteen fanatic, and total bookworm. When not writing, she is hanging out with her family, vintage shopping, or going on dates with her husband. In her spare time, she likes to go running or practice the piano, but never seems to do either one of these things as much as she should.

Keep up with Nicole French and receive your FREE copy of one of her books when you subscribe to her newsletter: https://shor.by/aboutnicolefrench

LOVIN’ YOU ON THE ISLE OF EIGG

A.M. ROARK

CHAPTER ONE

GRAME’S POV

THE SMALL BLACK box in my pack tempts me, but there is plenty of time for that later.

The table is set, and the candles are lit. The small electric fan moves the flames with each pass.

It’s ready.

I pop a pitted green olive in my mouth and walk back to the kitchen. I smirk as I untie and store the kilt-inspired apron Natalie picked up while in the States. If it wasn’t so cold and windy, I’d have dusted off my tartan.

Grabbing her a can of Steep Soda’s Sparkling Rhubarb and my glass of wine, I turn to head outside, stopping in front of the sliding glass door. My breath catches at the picture before me.

Natalie sits in the weathered wooden lounger, the purple glitter polish of her toes peeking out from the knitted blanket she picked up at the shop. The Isle of Rum is visible through the cloud cover and the sounds of the ever-choppy ocean permeate the double-paned glass of the windows.

Loose strands of Natalie’s long, black and grey streaked hair blow in the breeze. Worried about the year-long high humidity on the island, she’d had something called a keratin treatment done in the States to avoid her hair from frizzing. The worn paperback she’d found strolling in Mallaig—an original cover of King of Code by C.D. Reiss—lays abandoned on the table beside her.

I thought I’d be a bachelor with the occasional hookup for the rest of my life. I was happy when I was single. Content.

How wrong I was to settle for mere contentment.

“YOU TAKE MY BREATH AWAY, NATALIE,” I call out as I close the door with my elbow.

“Graeme, you are such a sweet talker.” She turns to face me as I near, her smile a gift more radiant than the late spring sun.

Love has mushed my brain. Now, I’m thinking in poetic verse.

“It’s time to eat, love. Here’s your pop.” She reaches up to take the can from my hand, offering her puckered lips.

I take what she is offering, savoring the warmth and buttery, caramel sweetness of her tin of Scottish toffee.

“Mmmm. That was nice.” She taps her can to my glass of wine. “Thanks. I’ve been on my way in to retrieve this for the past twenty minutes.” She takes a long sip before standing. “It’s a crime to leave this view.”

“Aye, but you don’t like bugs, so we’re eating inside.”

“It’s the midges. I should never have googled the little bastards.”

“Have you seen one since you’ve been out here?” I still don’t understand her concern over the flying pests when she has mosquitoes to contend with. At least midges cannot bite through clothing.

“No?”

“It’s the breeze off the ocean. You’ll be fine.”

“I know, but still,” she huffs out on her way inside.

The opening riff of INXS’s “Need You Tonight” begins as I lock the door behind me. I lean back against the glass window, watching her sing and dance from the loo to the kitchen. She notices me and changes course doing this little walk-dance, arms raised, body rolling, hips shimmying, singing loud and off-key. I can die a happy man having seen her twerk to the 80s hit.

I cannot wait to bite that—no, can’t go there yet. Thank fuck we brought enough food for the week. She’ll be naked for most of the next six days.

“I’M NERVOUS.”

I pause with the glass midway to my mouth. Our conversation has been light and jovial, but the underlying tension wasn’t only in my briefs. “Why, love?”

“Oh, my fucking gawd. Don’t pretend like you don’t know.”

She’s got such a potty mouth.

“I can’t think of a single thing to make you nervous. Is it the midges? The pitch black of the night? The boogeyman who lives up the mountain?”

“What boogeyman who lives up the mountain?” Her eyes dart to the back window facing the hillside and squints as if seeing through the hills to the mountains beyond.

Fuck. Wrong thing to say. “I’m kidding, love. There is no boogeyman. He’d be finished in a sennight with little more than a hundred people inhabiting the island.”

“You are not funny, Graeme Logan Stockard, and speaking Old English in your sexy little accent will not distract me. I’m a little afraid of the dark.” She brings together the thumb and index finger of her right hand to illustrate her point.

She stands. “I’ll do the dishes. This was good. Thank you.”

I’m tempted to drop to one knee, but she deserves something to rival the imaginations of the brilliant women who write proposals in romance novels. I’ll not be hearing from my sisters how I blew it for the next forty years.

“HEY.” Her soft hand presses against my cheek, and I lean into the comforting touch, catching a whiff of the lavender-scented dish soap. “Where did you go?”

“Nowhere. I was thinking.”

“I could tell. What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing.” I’m overwhelmed with my feelings for you, and I’m done waiting.

“Awww. You are such a bad liar. No matter. I will get it out of you. I have my ways.” She smirks at me.

“Do you now?” I take her hand and walk over to the chaise lounge.

“Oh, aye.”

“God, woman. Your accent is bloody awful. Good thing I love you anyway. Come now.” I tug her arm until she’s sitting in my lap facing the window. “Stop stalling. What has you nervous?”

I start working on the pins in her hair. “You have lovely hair, lass. It’s thick and smells of coconut and the sea.” My fingers run through separating the strands, seeking out any remaining pins. Her head falls forward with a slight moan of appreciation.

“Are you checking for midges?”

I chuckle, “You’re going over my lap if I hear one more word about midges.”

She goes still.

Oh, shit. “I’m sorry, love. It was a joke, I didn’t mean—”

Turning to face me, she looks down, her brown eyes boring into mine. “The idea of you spanking my ass is a total turn-on. I’ve never tried that.”

“A first.” My dick thickens and pulses. I am selfish enough to admit wanting all her firsts.

Her warm arse under my palm has fueled several late-night sessions with my left hand. I inhale. There’s nothing to be done about the semi-erection twitching in my boxer briefs. “What could you be afraid of?”

“I’m not twenty-three anymore, Graeme.”

“I saw your driver’s license. I still say it’s a forgery. What does your age have to do with anything? You’re three years older than me.”

“Don’t remind me. Things at forty-seven are not as firm as they used to be. I also have a few scars from life and things. There may be a stretch mark or ten.”

I reach for her chin and turn her face toward me. “What’s going on here? Why do you believe these things matter to me? Have I not told you how beautiful ye are to me? How sexy?”

“You’ve never seen me naked.”

“I as good as have—”

She blushes at the remembrance of her ill-fated decision to take the iPad into the bathroom while she showered. She shifts to straddle my thighs.

“Okay. You are you, and I am me.” She motions between us.

“Yeah?” I draw out the word. “I am getting better at interpreting your idioms and unique way of thinking and processing, but you’ve lost me.”

“I’m an insecure, self-conscious mess. Ignore me.” She drops her face into her hands, her shoulders shaking as she chuckles.

“I’ll not be doing that, but it is nearing time to check something off your list. Look outside, love. It’ll be sunset in a few hours.”

Natalie twists to gaze outside the large sliding glass door. The sky is blue, with white voluminous clouds making their way through this part of the world.

The opening strains of the piano and cello duet from “Beneath Your Beautiful” sound through our Bluetooth speakers.

Perfect. I take a minute to steady my breath.

“Would you let me see beneath your beautiful tonight?”

Standing, I extend my left hand. “Dance with me, Natalie.”

She turns away from the window to look at my hand, then up at me. I smile and wait. I must set her at ease. She owns my heart, mind, body, and soul.

“Okay, Graeme.” Her voice is sweet, almost timid, and I fall a little harder. She has so many facets, and I can’t wait to shine a light on all of them.

We come together, despite our seven-inch height difference, swaying for the next few songs of love spanning several decades of music. When Muse’s “Exogenesis: Symphony, Part 3” begins, we shift into an easy waltz.

“Graeme?” Natalie smiles up at me from an ending dip position. My timing was a bit off, but it had the desired effect.

“Yes, love,”?” I whisper down to her.

“Take me to bed or lose me forever,” I lift her up and plant a smacking kiss on her soft mouth.

“Natalie, you forgot the most important part of the quote.”

“I did?” Her brow furrows.

The queen of movie quotes is stumped. “You left out the big stud part.”

“Ahhhh, but she’d sampled the goods. She could say that with confidence.”

I bite my lip before licking it. Now, I’m getting nervous. “What are you saying, Natalie?”

“You know.” She blushes again.

“What if I want you to say it?” I need to hear her say the words.

“To command you?” she challenges.

“If you say it real nice.” I let my American accent slip in on the last two words.

“Make love to me, Graeme.”

I bring her left hand to my lips for the softest kiss. “As you wish, love. If you want to stop at any time, you just have to say so.”

“Oooh, am I getting my first safe word?”

“Not this week.” There is no mistaking the dilation of her eyes and hardening of her nipples. I run the pad of my thumb from the side of her face then press on her lush bottom lip. “We may be more compatible than I hoped.”

“I trust you, Graeme,” she whispers.

I close my eyes in appreciation of this gift.

I bend to pick her up and her legs open to wrap around my waist. Her face lifts as mine descends and our mouths meet somewhere between a gasp and a moan.

Our kiss begins with a brush of lips. So different from our kiss in the airport three days ago.

I groan into her mouth at the friction of the steady slide of her pussy against my cock. After twelve months of virtual hellos and goodbyes, I’m teetering on the knife’s edge of self-control. My desire is sharp, almost painful.

My hands splay against her full round arse, cupping it and tilting her pelvis down, inviting her to move along the seeping head of my cock.

She breaks the kiss and moans low and long, her neck arching in invitation.

I accept. Biting. Licking. Sucking. Leaving my mark.

She squirms against me, increasing the tempo of her rotating hips until she is hurtling us both to completion.

“Love, you’ve got to stop,” I mutter against her sweat and kiss-dampened neck. “You’re going to make me come.”

“That’s okay.” Her voice is deeper, and it makes my dick spasm in my briefs. “We’ll knock this first one out. It’s been a while.”

She shudders and my dick spills more pre-cum from its aching tip.

“You will not come with me for the first time like some rutting teenager.”

“I don’t mind,” she moans, and her hips never stop their elliptical pattern over the head of my cock. “It’s sooooo good.”

“I’m certain it will feel even better if you’ll let me put my mouth on you.”

She stops, and it’s comical in its swiftness. She rolls her head back and looks at me with the glazed-over eyes of a woman near orgasm. “Your mouth on me?”

“Like that, would you?” I walk us over to the off-white linen love seat.

Natalie straddles me as I sink into the couch. My grip on her arse loosens after settling her against my hard cock. My hands move up her back and sides.

I press my fingertips into her scalp, making circles.

“Graeme.” Fuuuuuuck. Her voice is rough and needy. Her breath comes out in pants as she continues, “I love when you massage my scalp.”

I tease her with my words, peppering her neck and the tops of her breasts with love bites and kisses and the occasional open-mouthed suck.

I need to be inside her. I pull her head down and press my tongue past lips and teeth to plunder the depths of her mouth. I spear my tongue in and out, mimicking what’s to come.

I shift us allowing her plenty of time to recognize and accept what we are doing.

Consent is sexy.

I see the err of my passion-induced haze. “Fuck,” I groan out in frustration.

“What? What is it?”

“I’m too damn big for the two-seater.”

“Well, Graeme, you are a big man. In all the ways that matter.”

I drop my head and run through rugby statistics from my last year in the league. I’ll not come—

“Fuck.”

“What?” she asks concerned.

“I was running stats of my last year in competition rugby, and that led to images of my mates. It’s not what I want in my head when I’m wanting to be inside you.” I shake my head, as if that will dislodge the memory.

She flattens her palm against me, rubbing up and down the length of my cock. I hiss out.

“It didn’t even make your dick go down. Graeme, is there something you’re not telling me?” she teases.

“I am a man of many tastes, but that is not one of them.”

“So, what do you want?”

“To pick you up and take you to the room not twenty feet away where there is a nice bed and a view of the sea.”

“Take me to bed, Graeme.”

“Oh, love, I’ve waited almost two years to hear you say that.”

“I’m sorry it’s taken me so long,” she laments.

I grasp her chin, needing her to see me when I respond, “You’ll not be apologizing for a damn thing. As long as I knew I had a chance with ye, I would wait for as long as it took. Not just sexually, even though I need a hard, fast fuck now and a bit of slow one later. I want you, Natalie. All of you.”

Her eyes glisten, and I am terrified I said the wrong thing. “What is it, love? Are you okay?” I reach up to wipe her tears.

“I’m fine. That was beautiful,” she responds as she stands, grabbing the bottom of her shirt and lifting it over her head.

“Fuck. Me,” I whisper in exultation.

“You like?” She smiles her wicked little smile.

“I don’t know what I’m looking at.” There’s little fabric and most of it is sheer. Her large dark nipples are visible through the shell-like embroidery on the black fabric. “But I like it on you.”

“It’s a Tisja Damen’s Echoes bra. I was wearing this exact one when we met.” She fingers the tendril of fabric at the sides of her plump breasts.

I take a minute to let what she said sink in, casting my mind back to that day sixteen months ago when I saw her on the street—bundled, her fur-lined hood framing a beautiful heart-shaped face.

My brain short-circuits and my Viking ancestry roars in my head.

Mine. Claim. Now.

I pick her up and walk toward the bedroom. “This will be over before it begins.”

She laughs.

“I love you,” I whisper, grinning when I set her down.

“I love you, too.” Her smile is warm.

I can’t stop staring in her eyes as my hand caresses the skin of her abdomen, running over a small patch of roughened skin near her navel. Her breath catches and her eyes dilate more.

“Is this okay?” I ask, concerned I’ve done something wrong.

“Yes.” She nods.

I sit up and shift us until we are both sitting on the bed.

I sit down on the bed and tug until she is between my legs. Her hands rest on my shoulders, fingertips pressing into the muscle there. The small sparse bedroom has a large floor-to-ceiling window facing out to the sloping hillside toward the beach less than two meters from the end of the bed.

“Love?” I turn my face to the right, looking at the window, my beard grazing her skin. She smells faintly of the sea here, too.

“Mmmm,” she moans out.

She trembles as I stroke my bearded chin and lips along the inside of her forearm. She hisses out her pleasure and presses harder into my shoulders.

“Shall I put down the shade?”

She glances at the window to her left before looking back at me, a naughty grin on her face. “No.”

“As you wish.” I kiss her belly and smile as her abdominal muscles ripple in response. Her moans grow louder as I kiss and tongue the deep well of her navel.

My big hands fumble with the button on her trousers. Her hands land on mine, stopping me. “I’ll do it.”

I peek up at her and grin. “Sorry. I guess I’m excited to see you.”

“Remember, I’m—”

“Who I want.” I stare, daring her to contradict me. I’ve a right mind to swat her arse if she does. The thought sends more pre-cum leaking from my aching cockhead.

“Let me see you.” I brush away her hands and push her trousers down her hips, revealing tiny black knickers. The fabric differs from the sheer embroidery found in her bra. The small gold fastener-like embellishments catch my attention and hold me there.

“You like?”

“I do. The way the strap rests on your hip with the little gold bits. It’s a shame I have to take them off you.” I tuck my fingertips underneath the band of her sheer knickers and run to the back where my fingertips meet more fabric and lots of bare flesh.

I lean forward, resting my forehead below her gorgeous breasts. “Lass. Are you saying you were wearing these knickers when we met then?”

“Oh, aye.”

My fingers flex. I remove my hands from inside the band of her knickers to turn her around. Her arse fills my line of vision, as does more of the mesh material and embroidery.

The same satiny fabric of the front panel continues in a Y pattern, disappearing between her arse cheeks. The lacy, mesh-like fabric fans out like wings up both hips.

“Fuuuuuuck.” I lean forward, kissing and nuzzling each cheek, dragging my nose along the dip in her back.

“They’re called a ‘peephole brief.’”

“Gorgeous.” I grasp the sides of her knickers and pull them down, over her glorious arse down her thighs, until they puddle at her feet. She steps out of them and pushes the bundle of discarded clothes to the side.

“Turn around, Natalie,” I husk out.

She turns, presenting me with the neatly trimmed thatch of hair covering her pussy. I shift to adjust my cock.

I reach with my left hand to trail my fingertips down her belly through the patch of soft hair. She groans when I bypass the hood of her clit in favor of sliding my middle fingers back and forth between her lips, coating the digit with her essence.

She rises on her tiptoes when my fingers pass over her engorged clit. Her hips move in a circular motion, in tandem with the movement of my fingers.

My mouth covers her abdomen with wet, open-mouthed kisses, up to the curve of her breasts in tandem with fingers swirling and sliding over and around her clit. Never enough pressure to give her the relief she needs. Her thighs flex when she again raises to the balls of her feet, straining to guide my slick fingers inside her.

I rasp out her name, “Natalie.”

She blinks down at me, watching as my soaked middle finger disappears between my lips.

“You are fucking beautiful and taste of ambrosia and nectar.” I growl it out, clenching my teeth from the need riding me.

“Oh my god. You’re going to make me come.” I slip the finger I’d sucked between her lips and almost spill my seed when she latches on and sucks at the digit.

Natalie loves dirty talk. I learned a lot in our year spent apart with nothing outside of Zoom and our phones to keep in touch.

“Watch how I slide between your lips. It’s fucking hot.” She releases my finger, and I use the wet digit to circle her clit, increasing the pressure with each pass.

She moans out my name. Her head is thrown back. Her body shakes as it claws its way to release.

Time to switch things up. I push her back as I slide off the bed. Her back arches when it meets the cool surface of the wall. Her hands fall to her sides, palms pressing back.

Kneeling, my face is almost level with her breasts. I lean forward to kiss the exposed flesh, laving her nipple through the mesh. Flicking and circling the distended tip.

“Graeme, I’m coming. I’m coming.” She moans out.

“Come, love.”

She screams as she crests. Her back arches off the wall as she comes in waves, her pussy spasming and clenching as the orgasm barrels through her. Her clit pulsing beneath my touch.

“Again.” I want another. I need another.

“I can’t—”

“You can. I said again, Natalie. Don’t think. Come.” I pick up the pace, adding a slight pinch of her clit, and that is all it takes. She comes again. This time she bellows out her orgasm. She is so beautiful and fierce when she comes.

I catch her as she slumps forward and move her to the bed, where I lay next to her.

CHAPTER TWO

CONSCIOUSNESS RETURNS SLOWLY. I take stock of my surroundings before opening my eyes. The fire has gone out judging by the slight dip in temperature. Thank fuck I went out for more logs while Natalie slept.

Where is she?

As if she heard the question aloud, feather-soft kisses and warm breath dot my stomach, followed by the glide of a warm soft body between my thighs. My eyes open, adjusting to the light of the full moon making the last of its appearances for the quarter.

“Hello, love. What are you doing down there?” My voice is gravelly with sleep and need.

“Kissing you.” She follows this up with another soft kiss below my belly button. It doesn’t take much for my cock to stir to life, twitching beneath the press of her bare skin.

“Aye, love. I won’t last long if you keep doing that.” I hiss out the last part as she plants a wet open-mouth kiss in the same spot she’d so sweetly kissed.

She’ll have me coming in my boxer briefs embarrassing all of Scotland with such a miserable performance.

“Love, please.” Her soft hand wraps around my cock, the tips of her fingers touching at the base.

“Please what?” She caresses along her cheek with my cockhead, encircling her lips and chin. I imagine a lewd trail of my pre-cum painting her face.

I moan.

“This?” She glides her tongue from base to tip in one slow lick. She circles the head, outlining the ridges with the agile tip of her tongue.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck.”

“Soon, Graeme. Soon.” My back arches off the bed when she opens and takes me in. The wet grip of her mouth ends a few inches above her hands at the base.

“You’re so big I can’t fit all of you in my mouth.” She licks and sucks again and again, taking in as much of me as she can. Her right hand flexing the few times, she pumps my cock at the root.

The deep, guttural moans and thrusting of her hips against the mattress prove she is receiving as well as giving pleasure.

Her gag reflex kicks in when she pushes herself too far, and I’m a sick enough bastard to admit I enjoyed the thrust of her tongue when my cockhead breached the barrier of her tolerance.

Something to work on later. The idea of her deep throating me one day, of watching her eyes water when I breach her throat, hurtles me too close to the edge of coming.

Crotty try against Ireland in 2013.

The sounds of her moans increase with her tempo: up, down, lick, swirl, and the gentle drag of her teeth. Over and over. I resist the urge to turn on a light and watch my cock slide in and out of her mouth. I imagine saliva mixed with pre-cum trickling down her chin to land in my pubic hairs, her hand, and the bed.

She switches hands as she sucks the tip of my cock between her lips. My eyes roll into the back of my head where they will permanently reside after this stellar fucking blow job. I feel her adjust and her right hand tunnels beneath my bum near my scrotum.

Oh. Fuck. Me.

The muscles of my thighs flex and contract as the tingling sensation begins its inevitable ascent.

“Natalie. Fuck. Stop. Please. I’m about to come. Natalie.” She doesn’t stop. Her movements lose a bit of their finesse as she continues her assault on my cock, hurtling me toward another life-altering event with this woman. I grab huge clumps of the bedspread to avoid tunneling my fingers in her hair and fucking her mouth.

“Fuuuuuuuuck.” The tensing of my groin melds with the electric jolt starting at the base of my cock. The sensation winds its way through every atom of my being until it snaps back, shooting up and out of my cock and into Natalie’s greedy mouth.

Wave after wave of unimaginable pleasure roll through me and Natalie takes it all in. Her mouth never leaves my spasming cock. Her hands grip my hips and thighs, steadying her tilted frame as her head bobs in the final moments of my release.

She pulls back and my spent cock falls from her mouth with a lurid thwap to my stomach. The mattress on the double bed shifts when she rises to sit back on her knees. Her hair glides across my hips and thighs, raising goosebumps along their path.

I miss her body over mine. Natalie’s hand settles above my knee before her softly spoken, “Close your eyes, Graeme.”

Two sharp claps break the silence. I squint as light penetrates my closed eyelids.

“What was that?” I mutter. My hands release their grip on the bedspread to rub at the sleep in my eyes.

“The lights are sound activated. Pretty cool, huh?”

“Yes. Cool.” I sit up on my elbows and stare at the goddess kneeling between my legs. My woman is a tousled vision of sex and satisfaction. Her hair drapes across her shoulders to cover the tips of her dark areolas. Her lips are swollen and gleaming. Her eyes take my breath away.

It’s all there, staring back at me. Love. Passion. Surrender.

“You are so damn lovely, lass. A vision of perfection. What the fuck did I do to deserve you?”

“I could say the same.” She smiles at me and my dick stirs. It shouldn’t be possible, but I’ll not question our good fortune.

She must have seen something in my eyes because she dives for me as I reach for her. We meet somewhere over this too small bed in a clash of hands, lips, and teeth. I taste myself and mint. We are panting, groaning, thrashing, and I’m afraid we’ll tumble arse first over the side of the damn bed.

Our mouths disconnect when I wrap my arms around her and turn us until she is beneath me. I breathe in, gasping for breath, exhaling relief.

I press my forehead to hers. I’m not a missionary man, but there is something about seeing her body sprawled beneath me, her warm brown skin shimmering with a light layer of sweat.

“You don’t need to wear a condom. I mean, I’m clean. That’s—that’s an insensitive thing to say. As if it’s an issue of clean versus dirty. I’m not sure—what I mean to say is that I was tested, and I wanted you to tell you-”

I kiss her, swirling my tongue deep into the recesses of her mouth. I gasp when she purses her lips and sucks my tongue like it was a cock. My eyes shoot open to see her watching me.

She knows damn well what she’s doing.

Thank. Fuck.

I break the kiss, breathing out onto her face. “I was tested. I should have said something. It’s not been a question to answer. I’ve never wanted to go without, but I should wear a condom to dampen the sensation. I’m afraid I’ll shoot off the minute I’m inside you.”

“We’ll have you rest up a bit before we do it all over again, no?”

“Not even your bad Scottish accent can dampen my passion.” I kiss her neck and am rewarded by an all over body shudder. “A bit sensitive in the neck, are ye?”

“Oh, aye,” she responds, her accent improving the deeper her voice gets.

I rub my beard along her neck, shoulders, and ears. She writhes beneath me. Her back arching, pushing her glorious breasts against my chest. I groan when the hardened pebbles of her nipples brush against my own.

I take advantage of our size difference, gathering both of her hands in mine, and putting them above her head.

“Oh, my fucking gawd, it is so sexy you can even do that.”

I kiss and lick my way down to her breasts.

“You have beautiful breasts, Natalie.” I circle one pebbled nipple with my tongue, not wasting a minute on buildup. I lick and flick one nipple, then the next. I rub my beard against the tips and her back bows lifting us both.

She was made for me, and I her. I can take whatever she gives me, and I love all facets of her. I should ask her to be mine now and prevent her from coming unless she agrees.

Her body undulates when I take a breast in each hand and squeeze them together, burying my face in her cleavage, running my lips, mouth, teeth, and beard over the tips until she screams out.

It’s time.

I let go of her breasts leaving them with a kiss. She twitches, her body sensitive to the touch.

“Are you ready for me, Natalie?” I ask against her neck.

“Yes, Graeme. Gawd, please, fuck me. Now.”

I laugh. “God, woman. You’ve got me about to come all over you like a bloody schoolboy.” I position one arm beside her head to brace myself. Decades of physical conditioning are shot to hell, and I shake with the effort to not plunge inside her.

“We’re doing this?”

“Aye, we are.” I line up the tip of my cock to her entrance. The hot depths call to me with their siren’s song. I tease us both to the point of madness when I circle the tip, barely inside her opening, coating it with her juices.

“You like to watch,” I tease. Her attention is transfixed on the most intimate parts of us.

“Look at me, love. I want to see your face when I enter you for the first time.” She moans as I push forward. The fit is snug and I swirl my hips as I ease my way inside.

“Fuck. I knew you were big, but fuck. Oh, my god. Slow down.” She breathes out the last part.

I’m trying hard not to be too smug right now. I coo at her, telling her how beautiful she is, how much I can’t wait to be inside her, to take all the time she needs.

Her breathing settles and her hips move, pushing me deeper inside her.

“Would you rather be on top, love?”

“Not this time. I want you on me the first time. I’ve plenty of time to ride you to Valhalla, my Viking god.”

I stop moving. “You did not just say that.” Never. Never in my life have I had so much fun while having sex. Never. It is new and so damn endearing. I keep moving, inching my larger than average eight inches into the heart of her.

Her legs come up to bend at my sides, opening herself wider, deepening the penetration. We both moan as I move forward more. I grasp onto the underside of her buttocks and lift her torso, allowing gravity to finish the job for us.

I bottom out and still at her gasp.

I still. I don’t dare move…or breathe. “Are you okay, love? Is it too much?”

“Noooooo,” she wails and for a second I am confused at the meaning until her hips move.

I move inside her, rotating my hips in a corkscrew-like motion until I hit that spot and she screams again, and then I fuck her like she deserves to be fucked.

I pump into her, making sure I hit that spot inside her with every thrust.

She is wild, lost to sensation. Thrashing beneath me. Her body continuing to undulate. I move in and out of her like I was born for this. I am careful to not go too deep in this position. I don’t want to do anything that keeps me from being inside her tomorrow.

When she pulls both of her legs toward her chest, I accept it for the invitation it is and rise up to my knees and spear into her over and over and over. Our moans and cries mingle with the slapping of skin and the thwacking sounds of my driving into her wet channel. It’s our own lewd sexual symphony, and I am its conductor.

I wield my baton like a maestro. Whirling, twirling, spearing, pounding until I miss my mark and bump up against her perineum, sliding down to graze the puckered skin of her rosebud.

“Oooo.” She smiles up at me. “I’m not sure I can take that monster cock in my li’l virgin ass, but I’m up for the challenge.”

Don’t come. Don’t come. Don’t come.

Carter. 128 caps and 1, 581 points with the Crusaders. 289 with Canterbury.

“Fuck, lass. I’m not ready to come yet.” Am I whining?

I kiss her before pulling out. “On all fours, lass. I’ve dreamed of seeing your arse jiggle while I fuck you from behind.”

“Such a dirty mouth,” she teases as she turns over onto all fours, lifting her arse into the air.

What little blood not filling my cock reroutes itself. The bed creaks when I rise to my knees behind her. I run one finger from her shoulder to the crease of her arse marveling at the contrast of our skin tones, something I’d spared little to no thought on until this moment.

She shudders. I bend forward and kiss each cheek, worshipping at the altar of the true sun god. She is divine, my woman, and I want to bury my face between her legs and drown in her sweetness.

I grasp a hip in each hand and drag her to the edge as I stand. I wish there was a mirror in front of us. Mental note to buy one for every room in every house we will ever have. Maybe a portable one.

I pull her back onto my cock and revel at the rightness as her body makes way for my intrusion. She groans. I curse. It’s so damn good.

My body sets a faster pace this time. The need to come inside her is clawing at me, and I’m not fighting it. I seem to hit another, better spot than before if her screams and mewls of pleasure are an indication.

“Fuck me, Graeme. Fuck me, Graeme. Fuck meeeeee.”

I push down between her shoulder and her hand lashes out to remove the offending pillows. Her cheek lands against the mattress, her fingernails digging and clawing at the fabric as I drive into her over and over. She screams out each time I hit that spot, and I wonder if she’ll be hoarse in the morning.

Words of love and adoration. Illicit words. All of it pours out of me in a staccato procession with my thrusts until the tingling starts and rips through my body. My thrusts become inelegant, uninhibited, carnal. I brace one leg on the bed and piston my cock into her as she screams out her orgasm. I follow, bellowing out her name, grinding against her until the last drop is deep within her body.

I thank the gods of rugby for decades of conditioning. I have enough energy to settle us both into bed before collapsing. My breaths coming in gasps and pants.

What the fuck was that?

“Right?”

“Oh, shit. Did I say that out loud?”

“You did.” She snickers. “I can’t move.”

“Don’t. I need a minute.” My world is tilting again.

“We need a bigger bed.”

“Aye.” I smile, wondering if the window is sturdy enough for us.

Better get up before I fall asleep again. I lean over and place a soft kiss on her shoulder. “Back in a minute. Can I get you a bottled water?”

“Please?” She rasps.

I smile back and stroke her hair, moving it away from her sweat-dampened forehead.

I return with our water and warm, damp cloths.

“This is a bit wet, love.” I move the cloth against her, letting it sit there for a bit before I turn it over and wipe up the bits of cum that have trickled down her thigh.

“On your stomach, love.” She turns and I use the second cloth in much the same way as the first. I kiss her backside before covering her up with the thin sheet and blanket.

Back in the bathroom, I toss the cloths in the bottom of the shower and use the one I’d left in the sink to cleanup. Two claps sound from the bedroom, and the lights wink off.

A quick trip to the loo, another washup, and back to bed. Moonbeams stream through the window, letting in little light in the pitch black on this island with no streetlights.

Natalie stirs beside me and soon her trip to the loo is behind her, and she’s back in bed wrapped in my arms, one leg settling between mine.

She sighs in contentment, and I kiss the top of her head.

“I love you,” she whispers. Her breath wafting over the hairs on my chest.

“I love you, too.”

“I’m sleep now.”

I smile at her sleep-broken English. “Okay. Sleep, love.”

“Night, Graeme.” Her voice is fading.

“Good night, Natalie. Sweet dreams.”

“Can’t be better than reality,” she mumbles.

“Aye.”

CHAPTER THREE

“I PLANNED for every eventuality except this one.”

“I should feel bad, but I’ve got to tell you—”

“Oh my god, just stop. Ugh, men. You’re all the same when it comes to your cocks.”

“Perhaps, but evidence would seem to indicate all cocks are not exactly…equal.” I wiggle my eyebrows, trying to get her to laugh. It works.

“You are soooo smug right now, aren’t you?”

“If you’re asking whether I’m happy my cockstand is so large you’ll be tender the next day, then no, I’m not happy about ever hurting you or making you feel any discomfort.”

“Why do I sense a but in there somewhere?”

I choose not to answer her question and instead use my foot to move the blanket so it covers all of her and less of me. I would fall in love with a thin-skinned California girl. Serves me right.

We moved the furniture around to position the oversized chaise lounge in front of the living room window. We recline on the chaise—her back to my front. Both of her legs wrapped around one of mine. My other leg is bent, providing more support for her back.

“Would a dip in the sea help?”

“Isn’t the water cold, though? It’s okay. I’ll be fine. Thank God for kegels.”

“Amen.” I shudder at how many kegels Natalie must have done in her lifetime for her to—

“Graeme?”

“Yes, love?” I toy with her hair as I gaze out at the beach and sea beyond the window in the living room.

“What are you thinking about right now?”

“Kegels.” My response comes out like a whispered prayer.

At first, I don’t register what she’s doing, partly because I’m so caught up in my own memories.

“Ach. Why are you swatting at me, woman?” Her hand lingers on my deltoid before trailing down to outlining the triceps below.

“Kegels.” She looks up from staring at my arm, disgusted and turned on based on the outline of the hardened nipples visible through her T-shirt.

“What about them?”

“You’re hopeless.” She gets up and walks toward the kitchen. I turn and am disappointed to see the bloody shirt didn’t ride up one bit.

“I’ll make some tea. Care for a cup?”

Oh, no. “Uh, why don’t I make the tea, and you rest?”

She squints at me, and I divert my eyes to avoid giving away my revulsion at her idea of tea.

“Okay. Make sure you use the decaf.”

I fight back my shudder. It’s okay. She’s caffeine sensitive. I looked it up. It is a thing some people have.

“Oh, the cranberry pomegranate, please.”

I set down the blue enamel kettle on the counter and take a deep, steadying breath. I turn to face the woman I’m prepared to spend the rest of my life with and find her grinning.

“You should see your face.”

“Oh, it’s funny?” I advance toward her, and she walks backward away from me. There’s not a lot of room in the bothy, so I’m confident I’ll catch her when the time comes.

“Is your absurd reaction to my tea preference funny? No, it’s hysterical.”

She turns on her heel to sprint away.

“Come here, you.” I reach out and grab the back of her shirt with one hand and wrap the other around her waist, lifting her up and into my arms.

She screams and laughs out loud as her lush body settles into the cradle of my arms.

The shirt has ridden up, and I groan as the smooth skin of her arse brushes against my abdomen.

Can’t get hard. She needs a bit of time to heal. Tomorrow, she’d said. I close my eyes to cut off the visual of the sexy woman laughing and squirming in my arms.

Think of something. Plays. Yes. Jonny Wilkson’s game-winning goal in 2003 World Cup final.

“Graeme, what are you doing?” Her small hand is on my face. Her fingertips run through the hairs of my beard.

“Reliving some of my favorite plays.”

“Is this a ‘think of baseball stats’ thing?”

“What?”

Her smile grows wider and her eyes light with mischief. “Is this your way of calming little Graeme?”

“It is.” I kiss her. The smack echoing in the room. “Let’s get you dressed.”

I carry her the short distance to the small bedroom in the back. The smell of sex lingers, despite it being hours since I was inside her.

I set her down and turn to pull open a drawer on the small Swedish-inspired dresser.

I mumble, “Wilkson. 2003 World Cup.”

“Are you going through rugby stats again?”

“Aye. It’s your own fault.”

“I’m too sexy for this bothy.”

I snort as I turn around to get dressed. Natalie is pulling on her jumper when I notice the small scar near her belly button again.

“I had an ectopic pregnancy.”

Everything in me stops. “I’m sorry.”

“I saw you looking—well, I thought I saw you looking at the scar here.” She lifts the jumper and points to the small line of discolored skin.

“Natalie,” I breathe out and walk to her and sit on the bed, so we are closer to eye level. “We don’t have to talk about everything in the week we are here. You lived an entire life before we met. You married that diddy.”

She laughs, as was my intention. The crinkle between her brows is gone as well. “I want to tell you. Okay? Then we never have to speak of it again unless you have questions.”

“I can’t imagine I ever will. Do you want kids?”

“No. I mean, do you? Stephan is in his twenties…” She trails off.

“No. I— No. I don’t want any more kids, Natalie. I should have never been a father at twenty-one, but I don’t regret having my son.”

“He’s a gorgeous young man, Graeme.”

“Aye, he is.” I smile at the memory of Stephan’s response to my intentions. He’s been supportive and happy for me.

She smiles as she sits down on the bed next to me, crossing her legs in a yoga pose.

“It’s not that I can’t have kids. I can. Maybe not anymore since I’m menopausal, but this is-” she motions to the general area of the marred skin not visible with her jumper in place, “this pregnancy was planned, but it did not work out. Thankfully, I was in California at the time and wasn’t denied the care I needed. So many women have died because politicians and male doctors want to leave things up to the woman’s body - to naturally abort the baby instead of listening to science. Our bodies can’t abort or absorb something growing outside of where it’s supposed to be!”

Her eyes flame in remembrance, and I reach out to hold her hand. She closes her eyes on a deep exhale. “I woke up from emergency surgery on the maternity ward with no baby and one less ovary.”

“Oh, love. I am so damn sorry.” I take one of her hands in mine stroking the skin with my thumb to comfort both of us.

She focuses back on me a minute or so later, no longer lost in her memory. “I’m okay. I never wanted to have kids. I always abandoned my dolls for Legos and Tinkertoys. But,” she inhales, “I loved James. When I wound up pregnant because, of all things cliché, an expired condom, I figured it was fate.”

She looks down at our joined hands. “I guess fate had other plans. I would have been a good mother, but I didn’t want to be one. Does that make sense?” She looks back up at me on the last part, her eyes seeking my understanding.

“It does. Just because you can do something, doesn’t mean it’s what you want or should do.”

“You get it.” She seems relieved. “So, yeah, that’s it. That’s the story behind the scar.”

“Thank you for trusting me with your pain, Natalie.”

“I trust you with my life, Graeme.”

So simple and matter-of-fact. I have to stop myself from asking her to be my wife here on the bed.

“You undo me, Natalie.” I bring our clenched hands to my mouth, kissing her fingers, ending with the one I hope will bear my ring before we leave the island.

I can’t ask her tonight like I’d planned. She is raw and vulnerable. Her eyes still a bit clouded with memories.

I can wait. I would have asked her the day we met, but I’ve been accused of being impulsive in the past.

“Care for your revolting tea now?”

She laughs and shakes her head. “My tea is not revolting. It has flavor.”

“Yeah. Flavor. Come. Your education in the proper way to drink tea starts now. I’ll not be seen with you sipping the vile shite you call tea in public.”

“What about in private?”

“No, not even then.”

Her laughter follows me out, the pillow missing my head by inches as I leave for the kitchen.

“Tea snob.”

“Damn right.”

CHAPTER FOUR

NATALIE IS prone on the bed before me, naked except for the bath towel across her backside. She claimed it was for modesty. I thought covering her luscious arse would help me focus.

Habana touchdown against New Zealand in 2012.

My thumbs press into the thick band of tissue supporting her arch from heel to toes. Her plantar fasciitis was bothering her a bit after our two-hour walking tour of the small island. It’s a good thing we didn’t do this when we first arrived six days ago.

“That hurts so good.” Her voice is hoarse and breathy. Sexy.

Habana’s NFL-style block against New Zealand in 2013.

“This part won’t be so pleasant. You ready?”

“Uh-huh.” Her response is distracted and drawn out on a sigh.

I drag the knuckles of my left hand in a fan-like motion across the width of her arch. The pressure increases with each successive pass until her body contorts to wrench her foot from my grasp. Those deep guttural groans of pleasure devolve into threats to my bollocks and an imaginative cursing streak.

Cheeky wench.

Speaking of, the towel has dislodged and one rounded bronzed cheek peeks out from beneath the stark white terry cloth. Time for a distraction.

“Do you like poetry, love?”

“What?”

“Do you like poetry?”

“I do. It’s an odd question.”

“I’ve always been a fan of poetry.”

“Who are some of your favorites?” She is relaxing into the bed once again. Her feet are wrapped in a cold towel to reduce the tension and tightness, and I’ve moved on to her dick-hardening legs. Strong and thick—

“Graeme? Who are your favorite poets?”

“Oh, I’ve a few, but I revisited one about a year or so ago.” About three weeks after we met to be exact.

“Who?”

“Jackie Kay.”

“I’ve never heard of her, he, or them,” she replies. “What do you like about their poetry?”

“She is—well, I started reading her again because of you. Because of what happened to you in the street with the smashed weegies.”

She pauses for a bit, and I allow her pleasure-addled brain to figure out the reference. Her shoulders tense before she responds. “The drunk guys from Edinburgh?”

“Aye.” I respond. My hands haven’t stopped the massage of her right leg. I press deeper into her hamstring as I continue, “It’s not something I’ve ever considered. They, I mean. The Black Scottish. No, that doesn’t sound right. I - I’ve since learned it’s wrong to say, but I never saw color. They were Scotsmen and women to me.”

“And persons,” she adds.

“Aye, and persons.” I smile at her correction. “I see color now. I started seeing color that day in Edinburgh.”

I tamp down on my anger. Not the time. I continue, “Jackie Kay is a Black Scotswoman and poet. A lovely woman. She finished her term as the Makar—our poet laureate—in 2021.”

Her whispered “wow” breaks the silence as I switch from her right to left side and dribble more heated oil into my left hand. My forearm rests against the skin of her calf. I can’t stop touching her.

“As I was poring over her body of work, I ran across this poem called “Late Love.” Well, it is not about what I thought it was about.” I snort at the memory.

“Oh?” I turn to see her face. Her eyes are closed but she is smiling.

“Ms. Kay said it has to do with the differences between those in love and those who have fallen out of it. She calls it an ‘exploration of both states.’”

“Bummer.”

“Agreed. It starts well enough.” She listens as I recite the first stanza.

She smiles broadly, “Oh, she’s calling people out in the third line. I like her. Do you know the whole thing?”

“Aye, and she is. The next stanza is more of the same. The third stanza is the flipside.”

She listens again then snickers, summarizing the first line. “We’re all a hot mess when we fall out of love?”

“So she says.” I pause. I’m stalling. We leave tomorrow, and I’ve run out of time. “How are you, love?”

“Amazing.” She stretches as she turns over, and I divert my eyes.

“Care for one last walk on the beach?”

She frowns. “Oh, damn. We leave tomorrow, don’t we?”

“Aye, but we can always come back.”

“We can.” She smiles up at me and in that moment, I understand the phrase “with love in her eyes.”

“I could live here,” she continues. “For a few months out of the year at least. I would miss my modern conveniences.”

“You’ve done well without your Starbucks for a full week.” I stand and walk toward the door. “Well, cover up my favorite bits and let’s go. It’ll be dark soon, and I promised you one last sunset.”

“Yes, you did.” Her voice carries out into the living area where I moved my pack earlier today.

“Which is your favorite bit?” She calls out from the room as my hand closes around the small box.

“Oh, love,” I respond to her last question when I reach the doorway, “I’m partial to the whole package.”

“THE LAST TIME I saw so many stars, I was on a school field trip to the planetarium.”

We are standing on the quartz black basalt and white shell beach of Laig Bay. The swirling lines and fern-like patterns in the sand spread out before us in another postcard-worthy sunset. We passed a few campers along the way, including a group lighting a small bonfire.

Natalie is stunning in the dying light of the day. I can’t help smiling like a bampot. I’m happy. It’s different than winning a match, Stephan’s birth, or writing an elegant piece of code. I want more of it. I want it all with this woman.

My arms wrap around Natalie as I pull her into me. I forget sometimes how short she is, and I chuckle at how far down I bend before whispering in her ear.

She shudders. “Which stanza was that?”

“The second.”

“Pretty. Is there more?” She sways in my arms.

“There is.” With the light fading around us, I release my love and drop to one knee behind her.

“Graeme?” she questions as she turns and stops. She gasps. Love and joy shine on her face. Her hands fly up to cover her mouth as tears form in her gorgeous brown eyes.

I take her left hand in mine then reach up to cradle her face with the other. Her eyes close as she leans into the small embrace.

“Natalie?” I speak above the sound of the waves.

“Yes, Graeme?”

“Open your eyes, love. I have something I need to ask ye.”

Her body shakes as the tears fall. I retrieve a handkerchief from my pocket. The embroidered, white linen cloth is from my grandmother’s trousseau – a gift from her to Natalie.

Wiping away her tears, I continue, “I love you, and I am grateful you return that love. I don’t say this enough, but I respect you—who you are, who you were, what you will become. The experiences that brought you to Scotland and me. I love your quick, sharp mind. You keep me on my toes, woman. Do you understand how rare that is? You packed up and flew to Scotland to experience a bunch of eejits walking around half naked setting a ship on fire to start the new year. Something you’d seen on YouTube and read about in books. You went after what you wanted. That takes courage, love. More courage than most. A woman like you deserves a mate who recognizes the fire in you and matches it with his own. A woman like you deserves no less than the damn world at her feet.”

I breathe in, desperate to ask, but aware of the import of this moment to her, to us. I exhale, “Something shifted in me when I saw you on the street in Edinburgh, and not just my cock. Oh, aye, you were—are—beautiful and sexy as fuck. That isn’t what stopped me. It was your strength and sense of humor when confronted. Your poise. Your grace. When I heard you speak in your little American accent—all those open vowels and swinging diphthongs—I fell so damn hard, lass. I tried to be ‘chill.’ We know how well that went. Spending that first day with ye was like coming home after being away for a long time. You already own my heart, Natalie. We should make it official and make me yours.” I shift and my knee sinks deeper into the wet sand.

I reach into my pocket and remove the black box I’ve had tucked away in me mum’s safe deposit box for the past eight months. I recite the last stanza to her.

She gasps when I finish the poem and open the box. A small beam of light illuminates the layered facets and high crown—the so-called “hall of mirrors” look—of the stone nestled inside.

“Natalie Lorraine Pearson.” Her eyes lock with mine as I try to clear my throat. “I want to be your partner, lover, husband, and best friend. Put me out of my misery and be my wife.”

Shite. I blew it with that last part.

She looks down at me not saying a word. I hold my breath when she moves one small step, her face now hovering above mine. Brown eyes stare back, echoing my love. Her mouth moves before she kisses me, “Pòs.”

I close the box in my hand and return it to my pocket when she kisses me. I kiss her back, putting everything I have and feel and want us to be into the motion of my lips on hers. It is a kiss of intention and claiming.

She responds in kind. Giving and taking. Claiming.

We break apart amid catcalls and yells from the group we passed near the entrance to the beach.

“Did she say yes?” someone shouts.

“I think she did from the look of them!” a woman yells.

“Looks like they’re ‘bout boff on the beach,” a different man guffaws.

They whoop and applaud, and we laugh. I reach for the box again and open it, ready to put a ring on it.

“Put it back. What if you drop it?”

This woman. “Then I’ll file a claim and get you another one.”

“Are you insane?”

“No, but I’m beginning to believe ye are a wee touched.”

She smacks my shoulder, then shrieks when I pretend to fumble the box.

“Give me your hand, Natalie. I need to see my ring on your finger.”

The End

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THE HUNTER’S ASSISTANT

A.R. HALL

CHAPTER ONE

CAROLINE

IF SOMEONE ASKS if they can pay you to serve food for a party, always ask for more details. If I had done that, there might be a chance I wouldn’t be lying on a table naked in front of strangers. As for the serving of food, I’m currently covered in it. I’m being paid not to move or make a sound. It’s not exactly easy when their fingers linger a little too long against my skin.

In reality, I could’ve said no when Damian gave me the details. This wasn’t exactly what I’d signed up for. There was a chance to turn around and leave when I realized the uniform was non-existent. I could have turned around and walked out the door.

But I didn’t.

Call me intrigued. What kind of people had a party like this? Monsters, apparently. I’d love to be able to tell friends how I ended up here, if I had any, but it was part of my secret life. Non-disclosure agreements will do that—keep people quiet.

I came to New Orleans a few months ago because I was seeing a therapist online. I knew she did in person sessions here occasionally and I’d always wanted to see its history. After all the progress she helped me make, I wanted to thank her in person. It’s not everyday you hire a sex therapist to break down barriers and help you reach the big O. I didn’t plan on staying more than a couple of days, but then I witnessed her assistant quitting.

The next thing I know, I’m moving into her guest room. It was supposed to be temporary. I wasn’t even looking for a job; I loved bartending back in Austin. The pay increase was too tempting to turn down though. It’s not like I had a college education to fall back on.

The job was mostly scheduling appointments, a bit of organizing, and helping her stay on track timewise. She’s not the most organized person. The first week went easier than expected. Halfway through the second week is when things changed. She ran in late, covered in what appeared to be blood and spots of this dark, inky goo.

The second NDA came into play with her then. I learned her secret. She comes from a family of monster hunters. We’re talking about hundreds of years back. The only thing that got passed down in my family were heart problems and a risk of diabetes.

I didn’t want to believe it at first. There’s a difference in imagining there are unexplainable things out there and having someone actually tell you it’s all real. Then, coincidentally, I got attacked by a real life vampire. It was way scarier than the movies. I thought I was mentally prepared, but it still gives me nightmares. The truth is that I saw it coming, but I didn’t believe it until it was looking back at me with fangs extended. She said she wanted to use me as bait. It wasn’t until I saw the monster that I believed.

I did not sign up to be monster bait, but when your sex therapist boss is secretly a monster hunter, you just got with it. One time turned into two; the next thing I know is that this is basically part of my job description. I didn’t know what to expect when I saw my first monster; now I know appearances aren’t everything.

Three months of being the bait has shown me things that will haunt me until I’m old and wrinkled. Surprisingly, they’re not scary most of the time. Monsters, most of them, have this weird glamor ability. It’s like monster magic that makes them appear human to humans, but beautiful. These filters basically make them too good looking. We’re talking epic spank bank material.

My boss calls it an afternoon delight. And yes, I get an extended lunch break in case I want to do an act of self love. I don’t know anyone else in history giving their employees breaks to masturbate, but she isn’t like anyone I’d met before.

Back to my current predicament, the reason I’m part of this party’s decor. Oh yeah, I’m not the only one. Several bodies are painted and forced to hold positions as if they were statues. A few others are bent over with glass resting on them, serving as tables. I feel like I got the easy job; I just have to remain still.

What the hell did I get myself into?

The organizer of this interesting affair came into my boss’s office earlier under a false name in her appointment book. It’s not the first time; the monsters that meet with her all come in disguise. No monster wants it getting around that they’re working with a monster hunter.

I should’ve known something was up when the two of them came out of her office staring at me with big smiles. The only surprise was that I wasn’t monster bait this evening. She didn’t need me to run. I was in.

Of course, I’m here at this party on business. My hot boss, Hailey, asked me to be her ears at this party. She suspected something might be said, and it’s not like she could hang out and listen for herself. Haven’t they heard of hidden cameras and microphones? Surely, that was an idea at some point.

I’m trying to stay focused and use my ears to listen in on every conversation. I need to know what people around me are saying. It seems casual, but Hailey says it’s all important. It’d be easier to listen and blend in if everyone couldn’t see me.

Like, all of me.

It’s harder than it looks. I didn’t think this would get me worked up, but holy fuck! My skin feels like a live wire. It’s not the strangers though.

It’s Damian.

His touch isn’t as innocent as his guests’. It’s like he wants to torture me. He knows what I’m here for, and yet he’s trying to get a reaction out of me. Fuck, is he good to look at too.

Damian is lean, but muscular. Like the type you see on the cover of those fitness magazines or centerfolds. Olive-colored skin that my hands itch to run over. Deep brown eyes that dare me to be pulled in, as if he could see into my soul. He’s got a little scruff on his face that I want marking me up.

The idea of being marked has never turned me on, but he’s a werewolf. I’ve heard the rumors. This man, with his sexy smirk, has me wanting to roll over and let him have his wicked ways with me. I’ve seen him a handful of times now since working with Hailey, and each time he’s all I can think about after.

My rose has gotten more work since he’s entered my life than before… and we’ve barely spoken a dozen words to one another. Those afternoon delights are something I look forward to, especially since he tends to show up right after lunch.

He’s currently reaching across my body. He acts like he doesn’t know which piece of food to pick off, all while his fingers keep brushing the tip of my erect nipple that was recently uncovered by him grabbing food. The gesture sends shocks directly to my core. Pulsing with need, and I don’t know how much longer I can last.

I need to relieve this ache.

CHAPTER TWO

DAMIAN

WHEN HAILEY ASKED for an invitation to the monthly mixer between the factions, I thought she was joking. She knew I couldn’t have a monster hunter be seen at this kind of gathering. It was bad enough she had me come all the way to her office where people could see. There were already rumors going around that we were friends. I had a reputation to keep, and being friends with her didn’t help.

No matter how much she offered, this was something I had to put my foot down on. Everyone knew her and her family; they were a legacy for a reason. Then she asked if her assistant could be there. I knew she only wanted to know what was being said.

I couldn’t blame her. A lot of interesting topics were brought up at these mixers. It was the only reason we were able to stay in line. The leaders of each group had to be in communication. It should make me sick to my stomach to allow a hunter access to this privileged information. Maybe I would feel that way if I wasn’t currently being dick-stracted.

I’ll never forget the first time I saw her new assistant, Caroline. Even my animal side felt on alert. Who was this woman hiding behind glasses? Something about her pulled me in. After Hailey told me her plan of having Caroline be of service, I was in. Anything to get this woman in my bed.

She was attractive, mid-twenties, and had this fresh eagerness for life about her. I admired it. There was an adventurous spirit about her. She had to be if she was the assistant to a monster hunter. Rumors had already started to spread that a monster hunter had someone acting as bait, but nobody had been able to confirm it yet.

Nobody in this room knew the danger lying on this table. Not that she was in danger. Caroline was mine to protect for this evening. It was hard enough to see others barely touch her when they picked food off of her. I should have kept her in the back, but the idea of seeing her bare had been too tempting.

Hailey told her the uniform would be provided and to just show up in comfortable clothes. I’d assume she would wear her usual slacks and blouse that she did at work, hiding her body. She’d shown up in joggers and a hoodie; it threw me off. I hadn’t realized how much cooler it’d gotten. One of the perks of being a werewolf, I ran hot.

The clothes hid her body more, but then I saw her undress. It took everything in me not to grab her, throw her over my shoulder, and show her my inner beast. The desire to claim her was so strong, I thought maybe she wasn’t just human. There was something about this girl that called to me.

I wish I’d made her show up earlier, before the others hired for the party. There wasn’t enough time before the party started. Naturally, I decided to see how many buttons I could push on this girl. I had my doubts, but she’s been doing better than I expected. She hasn’t made a move or sound. Even now, as I toy with her nipple, she remains still.

I know she’s affected. Her nipple is hard under my touch and goose bumps are raised along that side of her body. Her breathing isn’t as steady as it was, and I can smell how wet she is. She loves this. One more hour of this party and then she’s mine for the night.

If I can wait that long. This has been a long time coming, like an itch I need to scratch. If I fuck her, then I can move on and concentrate on the business in the French Quarter, like I’m supposed to be doing at this gathering. I should be talking things over with one of the leaders of the Unseelie, but I can’t concentrate on anything other than Caroline.

“Damian! Great party, as usual!” Ollie’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard as he walked across the room and closer.

I faked a smile at the alpha from the other pack. “Ollie. I’m surprised to see you here.”

To keep things on good terms, I always send an invitation to every leader. We’ve always respectfully declined with one another. It’s the way things have been for generations. The two packs would fight for this territory otherwise. It would be messy, with too many casualties.

“I can only stay for a moment. There is something I wanted to discuss in person.” Ollie looked down at Caroline spread out on the table.

“What is it?” I needed to draw his attention off of her.

Ollie’s eyes slowly leave her body and turn to mine. “One of mine has taken a liking to yours. Normally, I’d assume it would pass, but things seem to be getting more serious. There’s a chance one of them will wish to jump between packs.”

“Thank you for bringing it to my attention.” Even though I already knew. “Perhaps we can discuss this with them to see what they’re wanting to do first.”

Matt told me last month he was serious about the girl. He didn’t want to leave our pack, but if it came to it, he would choose her. I wasn’t happy, but this was about their lives. I had to support the decision.

“Excellent! I’ll reach out next week about scheduling something.” Ollie turned his eyes back to Caroline. “Now, please tell me about this lovely display of food.”

People had been touching her for the last two hours as they grabbed food or admired her. It hadn’t bothered me because they kept their touches innocent. As soon as Ollie’s fingers moved up her inner thigh, it was like a switch flipped. I couldn’t handle it.

“That’s enough.” The order came out and had everyone pausing to stare.

Ollie continued to get closer to the apex of her thighs. “Are you sure?”

“She’s mine!”

His eyes met mine as his hands flew up in surrender. He didn’t have a choice but to back away. Two big steps and he slowly nodded.

“I see.” He laughed. “My apologies. I didn’t know. Never thought I’d see the day Damian Martin made a claim. I’ll be sure to spread the word. We wouldn’t want anyone messing with her.”

“It’s probably best if you leave.” Lydia, my Beta, came out of nowhere and stood next to me.

“We’ll be in touch.” Ollie continued to step backward until he was at the front door, careful not to give me his back after that taunting.

Smart wolf. Terrible man.

“Should I tell the pack?” Lydia snickered next to me.

“Shut it.” My eyes looked down at my second. “The party is over.”

I looked back at Caroline to see the questioning in her eyes. She didn’t have a clue what just happened. It was something I swore I would never do, take on a human. Within hours, everyone would know.

It was supposed to be one evening, but I just verbally claimed her in front of the leaders of every faction.

Fuck!

CHAPTER THREE

CAROLINE

HE DIDN’T EVEN LET me get dressed. I wasn’t allowed to move or get off the table until the final guest left the room. Lydia laughed as she passed me a robe and led me to the bathroom to clean up. The food wasn’t sticky, but it would definitely feel good to shower anything residual off of me.

I half expected to see people, at least from his pack, still here when I crept down the stairs half an hour later. It was eerily quiet except for the soft steps as Damian paced the formal living area. It wasn’t until he gestured for me to sit on the leather chaise that I realized we were completely alone.

We’ve never been in a room alone before. We’ve never been around one another for long before tonight. My hands clutched the robe closed as I sat and watched him pace. He’d pause for a moment, pinch the bridge of his nose, then resume his path.

“What’s going on?” That sinking feeling kicked in, weighing me to my seat.

His eyes met mine before slowly approaching. He kneeled down in front of me with caution. As if I were a small child or animal, afraid I might run at the first chance.

Part of me wondered if that wasn’t exactly what I was supposed to do.

“These meetings aren’t usually this exciting.” He smirked as he leaned in closer. “What I’m about to tell you… don’t overreact.”

I’m sure my eyes grew as I felt compelled to both lean closer into his scent and jump away. “Does it have something to do with you declaring me yours?”

His warm hand brushed against her inner calf. “It wasn’t something I was planning on doing.” His fingers trailed up to my knee, and he gave a slight squeeze. “I never had any desire to claim someone before.”

As his grip grew more firm and slid higher up my legs, my heart felt like it might jump out of my chest. “Claim?”

The word barely escaped my lips and I heard the rumble in his chest. The growl of the beast, threatening to rip out. “You’re mine, Caroline.” His hands moved to the tops of my legs as he moved closer from his kneeled position. “An alpha’s word is law, and the leaders of every faction were here to hear.”

“What if I already have someone?” I tightened my grip on the robe, my hands fisting in front of my chest.

He chuckled. “I would have killed him the second I saw his hands on you.”

“What?”

His hands moved to mine. “I’ve wanted you since I first saw you.” His eyes filled with desire. “I didn’t want to make a move and bring you into this world, but your boss insisted. Now, I’m not so sure I want to give you back.”

“What if I don’t want you?” The smirk on his face revealed he knew the truth as much as I did, it was a lie.

“I can smell how wet you are for me.” His hand moved to my throat, and he squeezed, not enough to cut off circulation, but as if to show me his intentions.

I was his.

“What happens now though?” I melted at his hold on me. I should be scared, but all I felt was safe.

“I’m going to have a taste.” His fingers brushed against my lower lips and he groaned. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me.”

“And then?” My eyes closed.

“Eyes on me.”

I opened them in time to see him lower his face between my legs. The pad of his thumb rubbed circles against my clit as his tongue dipped out to lick me. This was so much better than my little toy that had been putting in overtime lately.

My body tightened and my head grew light before I came on his tongue. He moaned in satisfaction before lifting me from the seat. Having a taste of myself as his lips pressed to mine should have had me pulling back, but all I wanted to do was pull him closer.

His tongue dipped into my mouth as his hands tightened their grip on my ass. I scratched up his neck, wanting to bring his face closer to mine. I’d never wanted someone so badly in my life. I was wrapped around him and it wasn’t enough. I needed to feel him everywhere.

One second we were upright and the next I felt my back pressed against a plush mattress before being flipped over. He ground against my ass as his grip moved to my neck and his teeth grazed my ear.

“There’s no going back from this.” His voice was like a whisper as he pulled back.

I attempted to look back at him but gasped as his hands moved to my hips and pulled me onto all fours. His hard length slapped against my ass before pressing down my cheeks and rubbing across my wet center.

Without warning, his aroused member thrust until fully sheathed. It was what came next that had me whimpering. It was as if his cock was growing inside of me, brushing all the right spots.

He pulled out slightly, but the engorged end locked him inside of me. One hand moved to squeeze my breast as the other brushed my hair to one side of my neck. Soft kisses were placed up and down my shoulder, working closer and closer to the tender spot where my neck and shoulder met.

“I’m not going to let you go after this.” He pulsed inside of me, pulling out until his knot stopped him before thrusting back in.

“Is that a promise?” I tilted my head and looked back at him in time to see the smirk cross his face.

“I’m going to be the last cock that will ever fill you.” He groaned before his teeth scraped my shoulder.

His canines had extended, and I knew what it meant. I knew what all of this meant. He was claiming me forever. I should have screamed and attempted to run, but all I wanted to do was embrace it.

“As long as you promise to do it often,” I teased before the pain hit.

I gasped out as his teeth punctured my skin. It quickly turned to pleasure, and I came. My entire body lit up. It felt like sparkles against my skin as I felt his knot shrink as he filled me.

CHAPTER FOUR

DAMIAN

HAILEY WANTED TO MURDER ME. I could see the look in her eyes as she sat across the table from us at The Underground.

“This isn’t what I had in mind when I asked you to go to the meeting, Caroline.” Hailey shook her head.

“Look at it this way,” Caroline started. “I’m going to be the best assistant now.”

Hailey sighed. “This is going to complicate things.” She turned to face me. “You were worried about people seeing you around me.”

“Clearly, this changes things.” I gestured around the bar.

The Underground was a hidden bar under a public bar. This one was reserved for the monsters. A place where they could be themselves and not use glamor to hide. I knew it wasn’t Hailey’s first time down here. She was the only hunter ever allowed. She wasn’t a threat unless warranted.

If we thought the word of me claiming someone spread fast, it would be nothing compared to the knowledge of the business I had with a monster hunter. All because I claimed her assistant.

My inner beast had never felt so settled. As long as Caroline was nearby. Tomorrow would be interesting since it would be her first day back at work since I’d claimed her. The day job I could handle, it was the night activities that needed addressing.

“She can’t be your monster bait anymore.” I stared down at Hailey.

“First, obviously. Second, you know I wouldn’t let anything happen to her. Not only is she my assistant, but she’s become my best friend.”

I laughed. “You don’t have friends.”

“I didn’t. But considering you are now the partner of my best friend… we’re going to get closer too, wolf.” She smiled.

“Can’t wait.” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at the thought.

Friends with a hunter. What the fuck was my life turning into?

“A round on the house.” Theresa, the bartender, grinned as she put the three shots down on the table, then walked away.

“Is that…” Hailey paused as she picked up one of the shot glasses and sniffed. Her eyes grew before tossing it back. “So smooth.”

I grabbed one for myself, knowing exactly what the purple, smoky liquid was. A local witch, Tara, had been making magic-infused drinks for The Underground for years.

“It looks weird.” Caroline leaned closer but didn’t move to pick it up.

“I feel it working already.” Hailey stood from the table. “I’m going to go and find some company. See you guys later.” She walked up to the bar.

“It’s like an aphrodisiac.” I smirked at Caroline as I lifted her shot glass.

“I don’t think that’s a problem we have.” She licked her lips.

I shook my head. “I agree, but let’s find out what happens.” I tossed her drink into my mouth, grabbed her by the chin and stood above her before pouring the liquid into her mouth from my lips.

Her eyes filled with need as she swallowed, then licked her lips. “Now what?”

“Now I take you home and show you what it’s like to ride a magical high while I bring you to orgasm.”

I tugged her up from the seat and she leaned into me as I wrapped my arm around her. Eyes were on us, but it didn’t matter. She was all mine.

Forever.

About the Author

A.R. Hall has always loved to share stories. She often got in trouble when she was little by making up stories she shouldn’t have. She is a full-time mom, wife, and creator.

A.R. Hall writes mostly paranormal and fantasy romance. She loves telling a story that makes you say “that was weird and hot”.

When she isn’t writing or creating, she can be found playing in her backyard “hippie” garden or glamping in the woods with friends.

www.arhallbooks.com/links

THE STORY OF US

A MILLIONAIRE FOES SHORT STORY

AARTI V RAMAN

featuring Jordan Hallaran and Barry Menon

from In Bed With Her Millionaire Foe

CHAPTER ONE

NEW YORK WAS SLOWLY BECOMING home, Barry Menon-Hallaran thought with a gentle sigh as she stepped off the Penn Street Station subway.

The crush of people, all in a hurry to go somewhere, was so very uber-metro city, even with all the metal detectors and policemen posted all over the place. Everyone had their heads pointed down as they scrolled through their phones or walked straight ahead without jostling their fellow passengers, with a firm destination in their mind.

There was no other city that had the vibe of New York.

Even to a transplanted New Yorker like Barry. She’d moved here recently after being married to the sweetest, hottest man in the world. To his home. The first two years, they’d stayed in her home, the coastal city-town of Kochi while Jordan oversaw the construction and aftermath of the project that had brought him into her life.

Coromandel Coast Co-working Hub was being used as the benchmark for sustainable and grand construction, sort of an antithesis to the expensive minimalism of WeWork.

The infrastructure firm of Houston & Hallaran had even won a bunch of awards for the way they had phased the construction while causing minimal damage to the environment and for the beauteous façade they’d built. An early morning scene of the fishing nets of Kochi blowing in the wind while the sun rose majestically on the horizon.

Sheer. Genius.

Barry joined the throng of people spilling out of the subway station and onto Penn Street. Instinctively, she checked out the storefront for Sinful Meethas by Shruti – a premier South Asian fusion dessert café run by one of her closest friends, Shruti Merchant Jones-Tarrant. It was closed for the day, so she contemplated going back to the station to catch a subway to 86th Street and home.

Her belly tingled as she thought of her New York home and the man she shared it with. Jordan. It was a familiar occurrence for her, happening several times a day. A little bit of sweet love and fierce pride mingled with anticipatory lust. No one really was quite as hot as Jordan.

Her phone buzzed just as she debated between calling an Uber and the subway.

He’d read her mind and was texting her! The sweet, silly man.

Barry thumbed the phone open without bothering to see the sender. A goofy smile on her face reflected in the simple platinum band she wore on her left hand. Jordan had had it inscribed with her birthdate in Thai. The best birthday of both their lives.

The smile faded, leaving her sparkling amber eyes a dull withered brown. All pleasure leached out of her face while she made her decision.

She tucked her phone in and flagged a passing cab. “Queens. Now, please.”

IT WAS ALMOST two am when Barry staggered down the generous hallway of the Upper West Side apartment that served as their home base when they were on the East Coast.

She blinked back tears of exhaustion as she touched a small Baccarat vase that had been a wedding gift from Jamie and Aaliya, Jordan’s closest friends. And now, hers.

Jordan was home, so he’d filled it with a small bunch of purple tulips, hideously expensive flowers that he ordered for her every chance he could. Apparently, they smelled like her hair and he was obsessed with her hair.

Barry pressed a thumb to the keypad on the fancy door and the door swung open on soundless hinges. The vast living room was completely empty. The two overstuffed couches placed artfully to showcase the lamps and art on the walls were distressingly neat.

She glanced at the pilot light still glowing in the open kitchen. The kitchen too was spotlessly clean.

Barry could make out the used containers of Chinese food he’d thrown in the trash, though. She contemplated picking up some food from the neatly tucked containers lining the silver granite backwashed counter.

But her stomach churned at the thought of food.

CHAPTER TWO

“YEAH, the airport funnel is going to be a major bitch to overcome. We can’t put up a seventy-floor skyscraper and expect planes to not fly over city-owned airspace.” Jordan’s even tones carried over the quiet passage even before he came into view.

He paused at the bedroom entrance of the living room as he saw Barry, his light-blue eyes igniting from the inside as they always did when he saw her after a prolonged absence. “It’s the cost of doing business in Mumbai, Sam. You should know that better than most. You’re from the damned place.”

Jordan swiped off the call before Sam could respond. “Hey, honey. I thought you were done with work at six. I ordered your favorite. Sichuan chicken. It’s probably gone cold by now.”

He talked absently, checking stuff on his phone – urgent memos on architect things – his thumbs moving constantly. But his feet moved him in Barry’s direction. She stood on the foyer, coat and bag still on her. Too tired and heartbroken to move.

Jordan looked up when he reached her.

“Barry, love,” he spoke gently. He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, his fingertip grazing the shell as it often did. A quick, intimate, comforting gesture they’d long since perfected.

It shamed Barry that heat, instant and acute, filled her insides at his touch. She didn’t want to be aroused right now. She didn’t want to be anything.

Barry swallowed. “Hold me,” she whispered, her eyes huge with unsaid emotions. “Just hold me, okay?”

Jordan tossed his phone on the counter. It bounced to the floor.

Barry made a sound of distress but he just pulled her gently, inexorably toward him.

Enfolding her in his large frame, dressed in his customary loose pajama bottoms and worn tee-shirt. His arms were rock solid around Barry, banding her to him. His breath was calm, even, there as he cupped the back of her head so she could lean properly against him.

Tears that had flooded the back of Barry’s throat, hot and insistent, were battled away by the gentle but incredible pressure of Jordan’s hug.

The arms she’d held so tightly between them slowly crept around his waist. Then, she traveled up, up, to clutch at his solid back. Right over his shoulder blades, so his heart, beating so steadily, so comfortingly, only for her, pressed to her ear.

Barry made a broken sound and went on her toes, to mold her whole body against him. Suddenly boneless with grief and need.

JORDAN RUBBED a comforting hand over her back. “It’s alright, Barry. Whatever it is,” he spoke in her ear, his head buried in her curls. Low and remarkably self-assured. So incredibly sexy in his monotone. “It’s alright. I’ll make it alright.”

Barry leaned back, dropping to her toes. Looked up at her six-foot-three husband. Almost half a head taller than her.

“I believe you.” She was steadier now. “I love you, Jordan.”

Jordan gave her a half-smile. It started on the half quirk of his lips and ended in pleased pleasure in his lovely eyes. Melting the ice blue and turning them into warm waves she could drown in.

She touched his scrappy cheek, still unshaved, her fingertips touching the greys threading liberally at his temple. Crow’s feet crinkled the skin near his eyes, white against the golden tan of the rest of his square-jawed face.

“Okay now?” he queried.

She gave him a half-smile back. “Some.”

Suddenly she was starving. Dropping her coat in his arms, she went to investigate the contents of the refrigerator. Bending at the waist, she searched for the leftover bowl of her favorite comfort food.

Then she looked over her shoulder. “Did you already finish the shrimp curry, Jordan?”

Jordan stuck his hands in his pockets. A surefire tell. “Maybe the cat ate it.”

She gave him a please look. “We don’t have a cat. And we live on the fifteenth floor. It would have to be a very agile cat to climb all those pipes to reach us.”

She also pointed at the floor-to-ceiling windows gracing one wall of their home. They provided a dizzying, stunning view of the city. Like a miniature laid out just for them. “If it could unlock that fancy system and get in, in the first place.”

“This is New York, sweetheart. Anything could happen.”

Barry’s lips twitched as he tried hard to sell his story. He looked so cute and earnest that she let him get away with it.

She took out the carton of dumplings he’d kept for her, dumped it in a dish, and stuck it in the microwave.

JORDAN BOOSTED himself onto the counter, his legs swinging free as she assembled her food. They shared a silence that had been earned from spending two years of marriage on two continents while holding extremely demanding jobs.

Sometimes, one didn’t need to talk. Not even to ask how the day had been.

Once the microwave pinged, Barry took her plate and stuck two forks in it. Thoroughly washed her hands before wandering to the couch.

A fancy glass dining table set up was located at the glass-window wall. But she wasn’t in the mood to admire the city tonight.

Jordan’s phone buzzed so he didn’t follow immediately. She’d just kicked off her ankle-length flat suede boots and curled into the couch when he nudged her with his knee.

She scooted forward.

He settled himself behind her, her back touching his front as he played with her hair and she scooped up the dumplings. He also kept a glass bottle of her favorite VOSS on the table within easy reach, the top unscrewed.

When she’d had a few mouthfuls, she leaned against him. And, still looking at the skyline of the city murmured, “All the people, all the stories we never know of the lives being lived. It’s a little privileged, don’t you think?”

“Sure,” he agreed easily. “I could argue that, between you at The Adya Foundation and me with the company, we do more good with our privilege than most people.”

Barry sighed. She did love her job coordinating operations at The Adya Foundation – a not-for-profit organization that focused on victims of domestic violence and gave them a safe haven to skill up so they could gain their freedom and independence. It was hard, rewarding work that Barry had studied for all her life.

His argument was logical, bloodless. Faultless. Still…

“I hate it when you don’t let me be mopey.”

“Why are you mopey, honey?” He was so patient, tears again sprang to her eyes.

THREE

“COOMI AUNTY ASKED me to make an emergency round since she’s visiting Grandpa Bryce at Penderley.” Barry sighed, naming the woman who was responsible for the founding of Adya and Jordan’s godmother. “They’re an old couple, in Queens. Patel aunty and uncle. Their son works at a Silicon Valley startup. And they are all alone. Uncle had to be brought back from the ER.”

“I see.” He rubbed soothing circles on her back.

“Patel uncle was diagnosed with early-stage renal disease today. His kidneys aren’t functioning properly.” A single tear rolled down her cheek. She knuckled it off roughly. “There’s nothing the doctors can do for him. They’re just administering palliative care since dialysis is out of the question due to his advanced age.”

“And transplant? If it’s a question of money…” Jordan trailed off thoughtfully.

Barry sniffed and shook her head. “You’re so damn smart, Hallaran.” She gave him a wan smile.

“It’s not a money thing either way. It’s still an age issue. He’s so…they’re so alone, Jordan. Their son is across the country and won’t move here because he has a specific skillset that only works in tech. And,” she sniffed again, “I can’t help them bear this.”

Helpless, hopeless grief rolled through her. She placed the plate of food on the table and covered her face with her hands. Trying to contain the tears rising up again.

Jordan reached around her shoulders and tugged her wrists away.

Barry glared at him with wet eyes. “Why’d you do that?”

“Because you don’t have to hide your tears from me, sweetheart.”

Her lips trembled once, awesomely, before she firmed them. Let out a big gust of a sigh. “I really hate it when you make more sense than me.”

“I almost always make more sense than you,” he corrected her lightly. Then dropped a light kiss on the side of her neck. “You want to move them from Queens? See if we can find them something here in our neck of the woods? Palliative care is better in Manhattan anyway.”

Barry placed a hand on his cheek as he nuzzled her jaw. God, he undid her with his casual largeness of heart.

And the best thing? It wasn’t because of her. He was actually like this. Always.

Whether someone saw him or not. Whether she asked him to be or not. He’d do small things and large favors for complete strangers. And, for her, he’d move the whole world.

“I WAS THINKING about adding a senior citizens’ village to the Shelter back in India,” she murmured. “Somewhere all the displaced old people with far-flung family could live out their golden years in comfort and ease. And love.”

Jordan chuckled. “You want me to design this village, don’t you?”

“Would you?” Barry batted her lashes. Felt him suck his breath through the cavity of his chest and his heartbeat sped up, just a little. “Pretty please, Jordan?”

His thin, kissable lips quirked in acquiescence. “Isn’t it enough that I bowed out of the bid for the Shelter, designed and built the damn thing for you along with Coromandel Co-working?”

“Of course, it’s enough.” She turned around fully, laying her knees over his lap. “How can you even think that, you idiot man? Ende ishwara. Indha aallu–”

Jordan pinched her lips shut while she continued cursing in her native tongue of Malayalam. “While it’s very sexy being cussed out in Malayalam, it’s like one in the morning,” he said mildly. “And I’d rather not be.”

She shook herself free from his hold. “Then why did you?” She took in his shaking shoulders and the mirth filling his eyes.

He was jerking her around. The jerk.

CHAPTER FOUR

BARRY FLEW into Jordan’s arms and attacked him. He tried to put up a fight against her swats but she was quick and slippery. And soon he couldn’t keep up with her light, fluttering punches on his shoulders, chest, and biceps.

She grunted as she tried to gain the upper hand by trying to outright punch him, so Jordan did the expedient thing and rolled her under him.

Pinned her arms over her head and said firmly, “You’re going to fall and hit the table and split your stubborn head open. Be still.”

His very sexy and very curvy wife squirmed in his arms. Glaring daggers at him. Her curls a glorious cloud against the liquid brown of the couch. He leaned down and kissed her nose.

She tried to bite his off.

He leaned down and, despite himself, laughed breathlessly. “Your blouse is all unbuttoned.”

The blouse in question was an oversize cream shirt that flowed against her caramel skin and complemented the hipster jeans she’d paired it with. The long statement gold chain she wore with it rested against the lacy corset she wore beneath it.

His Barry preferred sexy lingerie to confining bras. Thank god.

Barry tried to escape his hold feebly. Moving her thighs under him.

It served to nudge his arousal from semi to actual. Uh oh.

“THAT’S NOT HAPPENING, MISTER,” she said tartly. “Don’t even think about it.”

He moved a scant inch and felt her suck in her stomach, her breath rippling through her breasts.

She wasn’t as unaffected as she was fronting. It was cute. Mostly.

“I was just messing with you, Barry. Don’t you know it’s my favorite thing to do with you?” Jordan dropped a kiss on the edge of her arousal. Considered darting his tongue inside her fragrant skin and taking a taste.

“Eww, Jordan. Let me shower first.” She pushed ineffectually against his light hold. She didn’t want to move either and they both knew it.

The movement brought her torso and pelvis against him. And he smiled. With just a hint of bite in it. “Well, not my most favorite, of course.”

Barry grinned. Affection and healthy lust turning her eyes that peculiar shade of honey he could happily stare at for hours. “Idiot man.”

“No.” He brushed noses with her again. This time she darted a kiss at him. “Indha aallu…”

HE DIDN’T KNOW if he slipped his lips a little lower or if she strained upwards, but the kiss, when it came…was languid, lush, and full of small, secret promises. The detritus of a daily love.

She tasted of the dumplings and her unique Barry taste that had done him in on a public elevator in a Thai hotel. Her tongue sought his, parried with it, sucked it into the warm cavern of her mouth and owned him in that moment.

He released her wrists to grip her closer by the back. Thrust slowly against the cradle of her thighs.

Barry sucked his tongue harder. She inched his tee up too and dug her nails into the exact spot between his hip and ass.

The Barry sweet spot, he’d started calling it.

When they broke apart, her lips glistened with him. It was sexy as fuck. He touched her lips with a questing thumb and she sucked the tip of his thumb in.

Jordan grew harder at her tender ministrations.

“Take your shower,” he ordered her gruffly. “Or prepare to be ravished on the couch, woman.”

Barry smiled. Slow, languid, knowing. “We’ve been married for two years, man. It’s not exciting to be ravished on the couch anymore.”

Jordan chuckled. “Why don’t you ever let me get the last word in, Shabari?”

Barry shrugged. “Stubbornness?”

They kissed again. But this time it was quick and affectionate. A punctuation to their conversation and not anticipation of other things to come. Jordan didn’t care. He was content.

This time, Barry ended their kiss. And ran a finger down his bicep which curled around her waist. A sweet Barry bundle for him to squeeze and cup wherever he pleased.

“I was thinking…”

CHAPTER FIVE

“THINKING WHAT?” Jordan asked, instantly wary. Barry thinking usually meant work or trouble for him. Usually both.

“That maybe it’s time for us to move home base out of the city. Be closer to your parents, Jordan.” She spoke softly, without looking at him. “They’re not as old as the Patels but they are getting on in years and I…” His wife sighed.

Raised her eyes to him. In her expression he could see the thing that had made him fall so incredibly hard and fast for this fascinating, contrary woman.

She was worried about his parents, concerned as to what it would do to him, and determined to find a solution. A happy one. No matter the personal sacrifice she had to make for it. Commuting to the city from Long Island was no joke on a non-traffic day.

The same way she’d stood up to him and the whole Menon clan more than two years ago when she’d decided to strip naked for a good cause.

Barry truly adored his laidback, suburbia-bound, blue-collar parents who’d adopted him when he was a baby and given him the best life they could. And they loved her back something fierce.

It killed him how thoughtful she really was. How much she valued their relationship and showed him so in millions of little ways.

“Barry—” he whispered.

“I know your work is in the city and all over the world,” she rushed on. As if she’d already prepared all the arguments.

“But, I was thinking I could commute a few times a week to Adya’s office here. Or figure out some kind of work-from-home deal. And when we travel for your work or visit the Shelter in Kochi they could come with us whenever feasible or we could get them full-time help.”

Jordan’s lips twitched. “There’s only one Pukamma, sweetheart.”

He named Barry’s childhood housekeeper, the real head of the Menon Theravaad (mansion) in Kochi, India. The crusty woman was the only mother Barry had known after her mother had passed away in a tragic incident when Barry was a young girl.

“And currently we are without her too.” He pointed between them. “Since she’s on her pilgrimage thing.”

Barry snickered. “She’s visiting all the famous movie sites in Chennai with her girl gang.”

“Sacred pilgrimage,” Jordan said solemnly. “Nevertheless.”

“We could clone her if we get her consent nicely,” Barry said thoughtfully.

“Now who’s the idiot?” Jordan slid down to lie down next to her. He played with the buttons on her shirt. “You’ve been giving this some serious thought.”

Barry smiled shakily. “They’re your parents, Jordan. They don’t come in spares.”

JORDAN SEARCHED her face for a long moment. But she was playing circles on his heart so she didn’t notice. There was not a trace of disingenuity in her. She meant every word she said.

Love so colossal he couldn’t contain it in a mere heart swelled out of him. Wetted his eyes, and made him clear his throat before speaking.

“I wish…” he said rustily. “I wish I’d met your mother, Barry. Just so I could tell her what a lovely woman her daughter has become.”

Barry raised stunned eyes to him. Her lashes clinging wetly to her eyes. “Jordan…”

“I’m so glad we don’t live in Kochi anymore,” he said slowly, fiercely. “I’m so glad I don’t have to watch you kill yourself over your family who don’t appreciate you or understand you.”

“I don’t care so much about them anymore, Jordan. Because I have you now. I’m so glad you let me bring Pukamma with me, Jordan. She’s the only family I’ve ever wanted,” Barry confessed tearfully.

They both knew it hadn’t been easy to pull strings at the Indian and American embassies and expedite a long-stay visa for Pukamma who didn’t even know a passport till Jordan had gotten hers made.

But, to Jordan, Pukamma was worth all the hassle and more. After all, she’d given him Barry.

JORDAN REMEMBERED the way the snarling old woman, dragon mother to Barry’s princess, had basically expected him to grow some guts and profess his love for Barry to the internet and beyond two years ago. How he’d felt it was okay to do that because Barry deserved him kneeling at her feet and looking at her as if she was his world. His home.

Because she was.

“Don’t forget Joya,” he teased her. “She still hasn’t totally forgiven me for bringing you halfway across the world.”

And it was true. Once the initial excitement of watching her twice-divorced best friend find her one true love had worn off, Joyena had become distantly miffed with him.

“Joya’s blind,” Barry said loftily. “She doesn’t know I’d go all the way to the moon with you, Jordan.”

This time, Barry cupped the back of his neck and urged him down to her. She was the one who parted his lips and kissed him. Slow, deep, sure. Forever. When her tongue snaked out to play with his, he let her take the lead.

Content to follow his Barry wherever she’d take him.

CHAPTER SIX

SHE SETTLED INTO THE COUCH, the pleather depressing with her weight.

Jordan settled deeper in the notch of her thighs, his erection, never fully subsided, springing to aching, beautiful life. He reared up a second to grab his tee shirt by the back and toss it over his head.

Barry lay slumberous and submissive in his arms, just looking up at him.

He unbuttoned the rest of her shirt impatiently, and she giggled when he came to the corset. The hooks were intricate and small so he could not fling them apart.

“Damn lingerie,” he muttered.

“You love me in it,” she reminded him. Combing her hands through his hair.

He gave up on the corset and bent down to devour Barry’s mouth. She participated enthusiastically, giving him access to whatever he wanted.

When he trailed his hot lips down her jaw, she turned her neck; when he bit the pulse beating on the side of her throat, she moaned brokenly. Her thighs falling open so she could rub against him.

Her clever, clever fingers finally managed to undo the buttons of the corset.

Jordan’s breath shortened as he carefully parted the two halves of the corset and looked at Barry half-naked. Her breasts were round and brown-tipped, red at the edges where the lace had rubbed against her sensitive skin. Perfect for his hungry mouth and needing lips and questing hands.

He palmed one, and Barry arched into him, gasping. She was so damn responsive it turned him on even more.

“WANT TO SHOWER, SWEETHEART?” he asked with what little snark and sanity he had left.

In answer, Barry wrapped her legs around his waist and shoved his mouth at her nipple.

He took the hint and set about arousing her. Quickly. Softly. With all the lusty passion she managed to rouse in him.

Barry wasn’t a silent spectator either. She made short work of his pants and palmed his butt, squeezing and raking her nails over it. Running her hands wonderingly over his back, his flanks. Her flushed face, her frenzied actions showing him how much he pleased her.

He kissed and sucked her while she writhed beneath him, trying to get as close to him as possible with all the layers of clothes between them. Sweat springing over her body with each caress, each movement of his skin against hers.

His heart and pulse thudded in unison with hers, a tidal wave in his ears. Because the world had narrowed down to the fragrant scent of the underside of her breast. The seductive hollow of her neck. The lush heaven of her lips.

They’d done this a million times. Hell, their relationship had begun with an elevator quickie, but it never failed to move him. The thing he felt pulsing between them when they touched each other like this. Free and unfettered and singular. Love.

JORDAN REARED up from trailing a blaze of kisses over her hipbones and scooped her up in his arms so she straddled his very active lap.

“Wha-what?” Barry asked, drunkenly.

Her golden eyes were filmed in healthy, naked lust. It was fucking gratifying that he could get her turned on so fast.

“Bed,” he answered. “Let’s go to bed, Barry.”

Barry nodded. Looping her arms around his neck. “No.” She kissed his nose again. “Here. Where the city can see us.”

He laughed. A freeing, ridiculously happy sound, considering the emotionally charged conversation they’d just had. “The city can’t see us. We’re halfway up the sky, Barry.”

This time her kiss was long and luscious and slowly stole his breath. One nip at a time. “I know. I married a very smart man.”

She spoke against his lips, driving his arousal hotter and hotter. With her nails scratching down his belly when she played with the elastic waistband of his pants. When she brushed her knowing fingers against his erection and the blood flowed straight down his head.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“BARRY,” he tried reasoning with her again.

“Jordan.” She cupped his jaw and looked up at him as if he was the only thing of note in her world. Her dewy brown eyes were soft with wonder, with longing.

Jordan sighed and dropped his forehead to hers. He never had a hope of holding out against Barry. Not when she set her mind to it. And, truth be told, he didn’t want to. Not when the reward was so sweet and willing.

That’s how life with Barry was. Unexpectedly freeing and bold in the middle of world-ending events.

In so many ways, Barry had saved him from a life of unending workaholism when she’d banged him senseless.

He knew she thought it was the other way around, because he’d given her the freedom to make her own choices without the pressure of family obligations.

The pristine Menon clan thought Barry to be somehow lesser than them because she worked for a living. Because she had passion and fire and ideas. For choosing to use her privilege to do some good in the world instead of raking in the shareholder dividends like some of her other cousins were doing as they sat on the Menon Board of Directors.

Not one of them, including her own damned father, had been able to accept her endometriosis, calling her a failure as a woman and a wife for having a fucking medical condition.

But they’d never know the truth about Barry. Not like he and a chosen few did.

Barry was magnificent. And when she wanted to be a mother, through whatever choice she made, he’d create the only family he ever wanted. For himself. With her.

But it wasn’t time yet for that. One day, soon, they’d have that conversation.

HE TURNED her toward the city that glittered at their feet. Tiny lights moving, tinier lights flickering all over, pulsing with life and feelings and stories.

“All of these stories in this city, Barry. All of the homes I’ve built all over the world,” he said quietly. “And I love the story of us the most. You gave me that, sweetheart.”

Barry wiped another tear with shaking fingers. “You idiot,” she whispered against his lips. “I love you more than I can bear sometimes.”

Their kiss, slow and drugging and empowering. It turned into a slow, concentrated loving as he undid her pants and shoved his own down. As he spread her thighs and felt her breathless laugh when her head tilted into the couch. As he fished out a condom from a hidden drawer in the coffee table, because they were both organized and liked to be prepared.

He slipped into her wet heat, and it felt…familiar. Easy. Whole. No matter how many times they were together, it still felt new. Maybe it was because he loved her more every day, or she understood him more every day.

Maybe love did have dimensions the longer you were with your beloved… Whatever it was, sex with Barry Hallaran was better than sex with Barry Menon. And sex with Barry Menon had been the best he’d ever had.

He moved again, a tiny inch, and felt her breath catch.

Jordan smiled. Oh, fuck yeah!

She drew her shaking arms down his back and caught his hands in her own. Kissed his work-worn knuckles while she kept her eyes trained on him, moving with him like the tide bringing him home.

Jordan smiled as he made Barry his all over again. Living another night of the happy ever after of his own story.

And it was the same and nothing as ever before.

If you’d like to read the whole eight-book series check out the series page: Millionaire Foes or if boxsets are your thing, then here’s the one with Jordan and Barry’s full romance along with their friends, Jamie and Aaliya, Shruti and Mason, Ansh and Kahini: The Millionaire Foes Boxset. Happy reading!

About the Author

Aarti V Raman is a bestselling romance author and TEDx speaker. She primarily writes contemporary romantic suspense with lovable heart and dizzy heat. Starring hot, possessive, and decent heroes and strong, stubborn, and independent women, set in a lush world full of passionate danger and emotional peril.

‘The Worst Daughter Ever’, Aarti’s desi chick lit novel is an Amazon Top 10 bestseller. Her international bestselling Millionaire Foes series is part of the Writers on the Moon Project - a time capsule to go to the actual moon. Her latest release Burn, is an Amazon India Top 40 Bestseller while Stand for Ukraine, a charity anthology Aarti was a part of is an Amazon International Bestseller.

Aarti is an amateur poet, aspiring screenwriter, and young adult urban fantasy enthusiast. She lives in Mumbai with her large and extended family in a version of her happy ever after.

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MAKE ME

A DRAGONS LOVE CURVES STORY

AIDY AWARD

CHAPTER ONE

A Little Help from a Kolache

FIRST DRAGON ABOVE, someone needed to help his mate. Jakob knew better than to tell her to calm the fuck down. But when Ciara got a bug under her butt to do some project, there was no stopping her.

First, it was the Halloween party and now she was trying to do an American Thanksgiving. He would happily fly to the farthest ends of the earth to get a million and two turkeys for her, but that wasn’t going to fix what was wrong.

His mate didn’t feel like his country, his land, or his home was also hers. She was the first Wyvern’s mate in centuries, the woman who broke Ereshkigal’s curse, a White Witch, and the most important woman in the world to him.

Still, she was unhappy, and he had to fix that. He just didn’t know how.

Was that the scent of baked goods coming from the kitchen? Ciara was upstairs rooting through some boxes that Wes had sent over from America. So, she wasn’t the one making something delicious.

He followed his nose and found Mrs. Bohacek pulling a tray of green apple kolache out of the oven. If his mouth wasn’t hanging open, it would be watering. “Mrs. Bohacek? I didn’t know you’d be here today.”

Or this week. Did she even still work for him? He didn’t remember her quitting, or even letting her go, so she must still work here. That was fine and dandy if she was going to make his personal favorite treats. Ciara was going to love these danish-like pastries. Poppyseed was the most common flavor, but he’d always been the fondest of the green apple ones, just because of the nod to his Wyr’s color.

“Sit, my boy. I’ve made something special for the Green Dragon Wyvern.” Mrs. Bohacek slid a plate stacked with three kolache onto the kitchen island. and Jakob immediately sat on the nearest stool. He wasn’t one to refuse a good dessert or an elder.

It took him only a few bites before melting into the feeling of his own mother serving up country home cooking. Between his muscles unclenching one by one, and the long-satisfied sighs from each bite, he relaxed. Shit. Maybe Ciara wasn’t the one who needed to calm down.

“Ciara is going to love these, Mrs. Bohacek.” He almost didn’t want to share them. Only for his one true love would he surrender his hoard of pastries. What was his was hers now and forever.

His arm stopped in mid-air, kolache number three halfway to his mouth. Not because he was full, a Dragon Warrior like him could eat three dozen of these. No, he froze because of the sudden squeeze on his chest, lungs, and heart. Great First Dragon, he was an idiot.

He plopped the kolache back down on the plate, eyed Mrs. Bohacek as she added four more, and gave her a small salute. “You are a crafty genius, Mrs. B.”

“Am I now? Well, good then. Off you go.” She waved him out of her kitchen with a nod and a smile.

Jakob took the stairs at the edge of the Villa’s great room two at a time, hurrying to his mate’s side. First, he’d ply her with these fresh, hot kolache, and then perhaps bury his head between her thighs. While he’d love to while away the entire day lost in her soft, plump body, the rest of the day wasn’t about his pleasure, but hers.

He just hoped his plan was what she needed to finally feel like the queen of her domain.

CHAPTER TWO

What’s Mine is Yours

CIARA SHOULD BE relaxed and happy, not pacing the floor of their expansive bedroom wondering what to say to her delicious dragon of a mate. She’d just spent the last hour having tea and yummy Czech pastries called koh-la-cheese and practicing her magic with Mrs. Bohacek.

She was getting better at the earth magic, especially when she brought the image to mind of her mate and his gorgeous green jewel-like wings wrapping around her, keeping her safe. That was the key to controlling both her magic and her emotions, his love for her and hers in return.

The lesson had gone well, her belly was full of baked goods, and she couldn’t sit still. There were plans to make and turkeys to acquire. This Thanksgiving for the Wyr needed to go really well so Jakob, his Dragon Warriors, and the lovely townspeople would want to do it again next year. She so wanted them all to accept her, even if she was the weird American who was mostly just a plain old human.

“Ciara, miláček, I’ve brought you something.” Jakob waltzed into the room, with a plate of more kolache and a naughty grin on his face.

Ciara loved that particular cocky-ass smile, because it meant there were orgasms in her future. But… and she couldn’t believe she was thinking this, orgasms were not what she needed right now. She grabbed the plate and set it on the bedside table. She had to distract him before he got her clothes off, because goodness knows she couldn’t resist that tongue once he got a hold of her.

“Will you take me for a ride?”

His eyes sparkled at her and his grin went from cocky to downright sinful. “That’s exactly what I was about to suggest.”

Eek. He was so stinking hard to resist. Maybe just one little tumble in the sheets. No. No. Well, maybe later. “I mean will you drive with me somewhere?”

“Anywhere you please. Perhaps into the forest for a bit of a chase before I get you under me and crying out my name as I make you—”

“I was thinking, over to Prague real quick? I thought I might be able to order a few things from the Tesco.” She knew perfectly well they could order anything and everything she might want online, and Wes was more than happy to ship stuff from the States that she couldn’t get in Europe, but she was feeling so dang fidgety that a trip to town sounded perfect.

Jakob eyeballed her, but then took her hand and led her down the stairs, out through his office to the lush garden outside. “Come, I want to show you something.”

The magic of his shift sparkled over him in a shimmer of green light, and he transformed into his enormous green dragon form. She’d seen him do it a thousand times and still it took her breath away. His beast was magnificent and powerful, and she had to remind herself over and over that this was real, and her life now. Like a fricking fairytale, except she didn’t need saving from this dragon.

He opened up his huge claw and she crawled in settling herself against his leg, wrapping her arms around him. He curled his talons, cupping her in his grasp, and took off into the air. He stayed low, gliding over the trees so closely that she could reach out and pluck the leaves if she wanted to.

The nearby small town was used to seeing Jakob and the other Dragon Warriors in their monstrous forms, but beyond their immediate area, they worked to keep their existence under wraps. But he went up higher and past the regular boundary. The wind whipped around her and now was the perfect time to use their special mindspeak. “Where are we going?”

“I’m showing you all that belongs to you.”

Wait. What? “Umm, can you say more words. What belongs to me?” Sure, she was his mate, and shared his house. But aside from her clothes and few things she’d brought from America, she didn’t actually own much of anything. She wanted for nothing because they had more money than God. So, she really didn’t understand what he was talking about.

“All of this is Green Wyr land. As the Wyvern, it belongs to me, and as my mate that means it also belongs to you.”

Yeah. But not really. It was all his. “Yes, thanks, that’s umm, nice.”

“I want you to feel that this is your home too. Everything that is mine is yours. You don’t have to prove yourself worthy. You already are the Queen of my domain and my heart, miláček.”

Wow. How did he know? She didn’t even realize she’d been trying to prove herself. The villa, the treasures, even the people and land didn’t feel like hers because she hadn’t done anything to earn them. Which is exactly how her mother had raised her. Nothing worth having, if it wasn’t fought for.

Ciara stayed quiet, mulling that old wound and the way Jakob soothed it with not just his words, but his total belief that she as a woman was whole and worthy of him and his world. They circled back toward the house, and for a brief moment, she thought he was going to dump her in their favorite haystack for a quick roll in the hay.

Instead, he went right up to the balcony off their bedroom and landed on the stone railing. He gently slid her out of his claw before shifting back to his human form and wrapping her in his arms. “I have been blind to see that you’ve been trying in your own way to insert yourself into my world here with your parties, and yet not actually changing anything so that it suits us, and not just me.”

She stroked the back of her knuckles over the scruff on his jaw. “Is that what you think I’ve been doing? I just thought I was introducing you to weird American holidays and traditions.”

Jakob chuckled and took her hand in his, kissing her fingers. “Yes, that too. But I want you to make your mark not only on my heart and soul, but to share your beauty with all who come to the seat of the Wyr.”

“And how, my sweet Dragon Warrior, do you propose I do that?”

He flashed her a smile. Not the cocky one, which was a little too bad. Although, he didn’t need it to get laid tonight. This was one she’d only seen a few times. This flash of his pearly whites meant he was going to open up that hoard and spend some gold on her.

“Remember, all that you see is yours to do with as you please.” He turned her to face the French doors to their room, so they were looking inside. “I don’t think the villa has had a woman’s touch since before my mother lived here. Why don’t you redecorate and make it feel like us, instead of the generations gone by?”

Oh, that did sound like fun. “I think I’d like that.”

He led her inside, and sadly, past the bed and out into the hallway. There were so many rooms in the house, she wasn’t even sure she’d yet explored all of them. They opened each and every door and a giddy delight imagining what she could do here had her all excited. “Now that we’ve broken the mate’s curse, I’m sure the other Wyverns will be coming to visit more often. These guest rooms should be made so that each element is represented.”

“Yes, I agree. That’s a perfect idea. I’m not surprised at all that you know exactly what to do. But there is one more room I want to show you.” They went down through the great room, more ideas spinning in her mind of how she could make these very green rooms more friendly and up to date. But Jakob kept dragging her along, and they went past his office, to one more door she’d never been through.

This part of the house felt more like his domain than hers. Jakob pushed the door open to reveal a small solarium with no decorations or plants at all. “This is yours, and yours alone. It’s sat bare for hundreds of years, waiting for the Green Wyvern’s mate to bring it back to life once again.”

Ciara stepped inside, her feet echoing on the cold stone floor. She spread her arms wide and spun in a slow circle. “This is fabulous, and I know exactly what to do with it.”

Jakob had given her exactly the right gift today. That of his love, and trust, and the ability to be who she wanted to be in her own life.”

CHAPTER THREE

Home is Where the Sex Swing is

EACH DAY, the house underwent a plethora of changes, each more perfect than the next. Jakob hadn’t even realized how stagnant and restrictive the house had felt since his father’s death until she made everything lighter, brighter, and so much more theirs. She showed him designs and fabric swatches, and paint colors galore, but he hardly needed to say a thing, they were so in tune with what worked for the Villa.

He’d seen everything except her solarium. He did feel the strength of the earth magic grow in there, as she added plants, and other natural features. It brought an extra peace into his office, and he could hardly wait for her reveal. Thanksgiving Day was the promised unveiling.

Yes, through all the redecorating, she’d still somehow planned a Thanksgiving feast for him and the other Wyverns, and a whole ass feast for the village. She’d even built a smokehouse for her imported turkeys out by the barn, and they were the proud owners of an enormous pile of pumpkins, though these ones were apparently for pie and not carved decorations this time around.

The Thursday morning of her party dawned and soon the other three Wyverns, plus Steele and his mate Fleur, and a handful of other Green Dragon Warriors who’d found their mates in the past month, thanks in part to her Halloween party, would be arriving for dinner.

Yet, his luscious mate was still in bed, fast asleep. He knew exactly how to wake her.

Jakob slid under the covers, kissing his way down her body. She moaned when he sucked on each of her nipples, sighed softly as he nipped and kissed his way over the round of her belly, stopping for a quick swirling lick around her belly button, and squealed and squirmed as he nibbled his way along the beautiful, jagged stretch marks along her hips.

Just as he spread her thighs, ready to sink his tongue deep inside of her, she jerked up, and threw the covers off the whole bed. “Oh, wait. Wait, wait, wait. You’re going to ruin the surprise.”

“Is there a surprise in your vagina?” He pushed her back down and gave her a deep kiss right over her clit. Her hands went into his hair and her knees started shaking. “Ooh, maybe I don’t care if you ruin the surprise if you keep doing that.”

He didn’t let up until she was calling out his name, but right before she was ready to climax, he lifted his head and licked his lips. “What was that about spoiling a surprise?”

“You’re a horrible giant flying lizard.”

Before she could yell at him anymore, he slid off the bed and crooked his fingers at her. “Come give me a little chase and I’ll let you come.”

“Oh! I’m going to pull off your tail, you dinosaur in hot dude’s clothing.” But while she might be threatening his manhood and his dragonhood, she also loved this part of their sex play and took off at sprint down the hall. She headed directly for her new solarium exactly as he’d hoped.

He could easily catch her, but it was so much fun to watch the globes of her ass jiggle. He chased her from just a meter behind until she burst into the solarium, then he put on a burst of speed and grabbed her up into his arms.

She giggled and wrapped her arms around him and gave him a good long kiss. She broke off before they could really get going. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re getting faster.” She wasn’t, but it was fun to tease her.

“No, of the solarium?” She waved her arms around indicating the room.

Jakob slowly spun and, with each step, his jaw fell open wider, and wider. There was an entire jungle oasis in here. There was a bubbling water feature, a fire pit blazing away, stained glass suns across the ceiling letting in the perfect rays of light, and then there was the flora. In less than a month, she’d grown full-sized plum, apple, and lemon trees, small bushes, and beautiful creeping vines. In the center of the room was a long farm-style wooden table, set with a cornucopia and beautiful tableware, all ready for her dinner, minus the actual food.

“My love, it’s amazing. Your magic is awe-inspiring. You’ve taken this space that was for you alone, and turned it into a place for us, our friends, and family. It’s amazing.” This was quite the surprise. But he didn’t quite understand how it had anything to do with him giving her lots of orgasms.

“You haven’t spotted the best part yet. Look through those trees.” She pointed past the plums to some tall, leafy trees that formed a dark shaded area.

“Is that… a sex swing made of vines?”

Ciara nuzzled his neck and gave his ear a little nibble. “Yep. Surprise. There’s lots more naughty surprises hidden all throughout.”

“I think Thanksgiving might be my favorite new holiday.” Jakob carried his perfect mate over to the swing, and this time he didn’t make her wait for that orgasm. Or the next one. Or the next.

As they snuggled together in the satisfied heat after their lovemaking, Jakob was indeed grateful. “Miláček. Do you feel at home now?”

“It took me too long to realize that I didn’t need to redecorate, or create this space to know that I’m always home, whenever I’m with you. But thank you for helping me see that. It was fun.”

Home. She’d made his villa into a real home, but she was right. No matter where they were, when they were together, it was their love that made them whole and happy forever after.

If you haven’t read Jakob and Ciara’s love story? Read Chase Me now to see how this curvy girl broke the curse on all dragonkind that’s kept them from finding their mates for hundreds of years!

For more fun bonus content like this one for all of Aidy’s Dragons and Wolf Shifter stories, join her Curvy Connection email!

About the Author

Aidy Award is a curvy girl who kind of has a thing for stormtroopers and dragons. She’s also the author of the popular Dragons Love Curves series. She writes curvy girl romance about real love, and dirty fun, with happy ever afters because every woman deserves great sex and even better romance, no matter her size, shape, or what the scale says.

Read the delicious tales of hot heroes and curvy heroines come to life under the covers and between the pages of Aidy’s books. Then let her know because she really does want to hear from her readers.

Connect with Aidy on her website. www.AidyAward.com, and on all kinds of social media including TikTok @AidyAward and join her Facebook Group - Aidy’s Amazeballs.

EXTRA INNINGS

ZOE AND ERIK

ALEXIS ANNE

THE LIGHTS FLASHED in our faces and, as usual, my first instinct was to flee the attention. But Erik placed his free hand reassuringly on the small of my back and dipped his handsome lips to my ear.

“I’m right here.”

He never left my side. Well, not literally. Of course he physically left my side all the time. I meant emotionally. Erik Cassidy was the most self-assured, confident, easy-going guy I’d ever met. He was steadfast and loyal. To me, to his teammates, to his family. I never once had to worry if Erik loved me.

He showed me all the time.

Especially when I was the center of attention. I still hadn’t gotten the hang of it after all these years. I was a bookworm. A writer. I was happiest at home in my pajamas. I didn’t even answer the door when someone knocked. So standing and smiling while people snapped pictures of me wasn’t exactly at the top of my list of favorite things. Erik knew that and always went the extra mile to make sure I wasn’t freaking out.

But today wasn’t about me.

Everyone was here to see Erik. Today was his turn in the spotlight, and I was excited for the change. He deserved this. All of this. And more.

“Erik! Erik! Will we see you in the Home Run Derby next year?” a reporter called from the side of the red carpet.

Erik stopped on his mark, our son Ben in his arms. Erik’s dark hair was styled and trimmed to perfection. This season he sported full facial hair and I had to admit it looked good on him, even if it was scratchy at times. Plus, it was hard to hate anything he did when he wore a suit. This one was custom made for today and accentuated his trim hips and broad shoulders. He was so sexy I almost didn’t mind walking the red carpet with him. Plus he wore my favorite cologne that always went straight to my head and made me want to make more babies.

Our current baby clapped and smiled in Erik’s arms, dressed in a miniature identical suit. To Ben this circus of press and attention was totally normal. His entire short life involved red carpets, flashing lights, and baseball games. He was every bit as comfortable here as he was on our quiet days at home in our jammies.

Calissa, a year and a half older, stood between us, her hand tightly clasped in Erik’s and barely hanging on to mine. She wore her “glitter dress” to match me. She loved the spotlight and attention. In short, she was my complete opposite in every way except looks. She was my tiny identical twin when it came to our appearance.

Erik laughed with the reporter. “I don’t think I have the Derby in me. I don’t know how those guys do it. The stamina is incredible.”

“Well then, I guess you’ll have to be an All-Star again next year because we absolutely need the Bear family back!”

Everyone took to calling us “The Bear Family” after Ben was born because we let it slip that we named both our kids after Erik’s baseball nickname: Papa Bear. Or, as he was more casually known around the clubhouse, Bear. I loved what it meant to us as a family. As Papa Bear, Erik was the strong, fierce, tender heart of the team. He mentored the younger players and kept the older ones in place. Especially Wes.

That’s who we wanted our kids to be: fierce and strong but leading with their hearts. To build families around themselves just like we had. Calissa and Ben were already the embodiment of their names, and I didn’t know it was possible to be this tired and in love at the same time.

“Calissa, who was your favorite player last night?”

My daughter lit up at the opportunity to answer a question. “Daddy!” Then she let go of our hands, twirled once, and latched back on to Erik.

“And how are you enjoying our red carpet, Zoe? Do we compete with Hollywood?”

The premiers of my movies and television shows were exciting but so overwhelming it usually took me a week to recover from the overstimulation. “This is a lot more fun,” I said, glancing from the reporter to Erik. “A lot more laughing and a lot less posing.”

“Well, you look like a movie star. Your whole family does. Ben is clearly following in his father’s footsteps.”

Hearing his name, Ben grinned and started clapping again. I leaned closer and made a face that got him giggling. Then he dove into Erik’s neck to hide before popping back up and giggling even more.

“Will we get some more Calissa Cam footage of the game today?” He looked expectantly at me since I was the genius who decided to let Calissa walk around with my phone doing a live video at the Home Run Derby. She went viral last night while she went from one player to the next saying hello and giving them bubble gum from a bucket.

“Well, we’ll be in the stands instead of down on the field, but you never know.”

Calissa started jumping and clapping, then suddenly bolted across the carpet when she caught sight of “Uncle Wes.” He scooped her up without missing a beat and kept on giving his interview.

This was the world my children were growing up in. Red carpets, reporters and paparazzi, book signings, movie premiers, and thinking it’s totally normal to have baseball players and movie stars in your house. It was so completely opposite from my own childhood that it scared me sometimes. Were we screwing up already?

But then my friend Eve, the woman who hired me when I desperately needed a job and thrust me into this life, reminded me that the one thing kids need most is love. And oh my goodness how these kids were loved!

We walked the rest of the carpet, stopping two more times to give longer interviews, Erik strutting with his children, excited to show them off every chance he got. It made my insides twirl. Just when I didn’t think he could get any hotter, this man went into full proud father mode. Hot didn’t begin to describe it. Fatherhood was sexy, but this? This was panty-melting, illegal levels of hot.

“He almost makes me want to have a kid,” Carrie, one of my best friends and Wes’s wife, whispered as she came to stand with me at the end of the carpet. Our husbands were soaking up every drop of the attention while we took a break. “I mean, not actually, but close. Really fucking close. I might need to babysit and cure myself of this terrible idea.”

“You can babysit any time you want. But it won’t help. My children are adorable.”

Carrie frowned. “No, you’re right. I need to find some terrible kids to babysit. Hey, Roman, are your kids free?”

Roman St. James, Erik and Wes’s agent, and husband of our friend June, glared at Carrie. “Funny.”

Carrie blinked several times and grinned. “June isn’t here to protect you. I’ve got to get my jabs in while I can.”

Roman just shook his head and then looked to me. “How is it possible Wes found his female equivalent, fell in love with her, and somehow convinced her to marry him?”

I bit back my laugh as Carrie almost went nuclear on him. “You’re freaking hilarious, St. James.”

I put up my hands. “Hey now, this is Erik and Wes’s big day. You two put the knives away.”

“Aunt Cha Cha!” Calissa cried out, falling out of Erik’s arms and into Carrie’s without asking. When Calissa wanted you, you had no choice but to accept her affections.

And now that Erik had a hand free again, he slid it around my waist and pulled me into his side. “Have I mentioned how sexy you look in this dress?”

I kissed his cheek. “I think you might have.”

His fingers pressed into my skin. “Good. Because you do and you should hear it at least a dozen times.”

“Says the man in the sexy custom suit. You’re dangerous, Erik Cassidy. Very dangerous.” Calissa wrapped herself around my leg, pulling us out of the moment.

Wes gagged as he wrapped Carrie up in his arms. “Get a room, you two.” Then he twirled and dipped Carrie for a kiss.

“If June weren’t ready to pop, I’d be worried you four are giving off so many pheromones I’d get her pregnant,” Roman grumbled.

“Don’t worry,” I assured him. “It’s time for the luncheon. We can only get into so much trouble when food and children are involved.”

Erik shot me a wink. “Oh, we can still get into plenty of trouble.”

AN HOUR before first pitch the entire Cassidy family gathered on the main concourse for pictures. Even Erik slipped away from the locker room for five minutes to stand in the middle of the group with a big goofy grin.

My heart melted all over again. I loved this man to distraction and all I wanted was to see him happy.

The photographer gave us a thumbs-up and Erik cupped my face in his hands. “I love you, Zoe. I love you so fucking much.” Then he kissed the life out of me before picking up each of our kids and covering them in kisses too.

“My heart and soul are happy,” Erik’s mom, Bernice, sighed as we watched him jog back to the locker room. “All I want for each of my kids is for them to know happiness. Success is a nice bonus. Erik has achieved everything he dreamed of and more, thanks to you.”

I would never get used to Bernice’s effusive love and praise. It was so foreign to me. “I don’t have anything to do with it. Erik accomplished all this on his own.”

Bernice shook her head and sighed before taking my arm and cuddling into my side. “One day I will get you to understand how amazing you are. It is my goal in life for each of my kids to know happiness. That includes you, Zoe.”

Tears sprang into my eyes. “I am happy.”

“You are. And you should be. But until you fully realize your greatness, you won’t fully understand deep, pure happiness. You love your children unconditionally. Why can’t you believe we all feel the same about you?”

The love of the Cassidy family always took my breath away. It was so easy for them. I wanted my children to feel that ease and never know my unease. Anyone who made them feel otherwise would get punched in the throat.

“That. That right there”—Bernice waggled her finger at my face—“is exactly how I feel about you.”

“I didn’t take you for a throat puncher,” I cry-laughed.

“World class, actually. I may be small, but I am mighty.” She beamed as Jack and Berlin snuggled the twins in their matching Erik Cassidy jerseys, then posed with Callie and Ben for more pictures. “Would Erik be happy as a single man today at the All-Star Game? Yes. Of course. But is his happiness multiplied because of the love you share? The family you’ve built together? Today is a triumph for him and it wouldn’t be the same without you, Callie, and Ben. Make no mistake that you are a significant part of his happiness.”

I ugly cried for a hot minute, then Bernice let me pull myself together while she helped Calissa with the bag of toys she brought to play with all her cousins during the game. Callie and the twins were only born four months apart and it was so much fun watching them grow up together. Especially since their situation wasn’t entirely different from ours. Plus Jack and Erik were closer to each other than the rest of their siblings.

I sniffed away the last of my emotions as Jack came over for a hug. “This is a fun game. Why are you so stressed?”

“I’m not stressed. Your mom just likes to make me cry.”

Jack gave me an extra squeeze. “She enjoys making us all cry.”

“Maybe she can make it a home run when you coach the All-Star Game next year.”

He scoffed. “I’m not coaching any All-Star Games any time soon. My team is rebuilding.”

“You never know. You just never know.”

We piled into our section and settled in. Kids laughed and jumped around while the adults got caught up in the rare excitement of having the entire Cassidy family together.

Roman appeared with a bucket of ballpark gum and a gleam in his eyes as he handed it to Calissa. I shot him a look, pulled out my phone and started a new live video. Calissa pranced through the rows of our section handing out the gum and cheering with the crowd.

“Did I do it because it’s good press for Erik? Yes.” Roman patted my shoulder as he walked behind me to his seat. “But did I also do it for my own childhood nostalgia? Also yes.”

I patted his hand back. “Then I’ll allow it. Besides, we’ll treasure these videos over the years. They’re so young they won’t remember all this otherwise.”

“Erik’s not done yet.” He sat down and leaned forward so we could keep talking.

“It’s crazy to think that he’ll have an entire successful career all before the kids start school.” Or at least close to that time.

“I still see Erik moving into the front office or coaching when his playing days are over. He’s so a part of this team that I can’t picture him doing anything else.”

I definitely didn’t see Erik sitting back and taking it easy. “I was worried when Eli Stirling took over that it wouldn’t happen, but everything worked out in the end.”

“And what about you? Have the bright lights of Hollywood lured you onto new career paths?”

I shot him another look. “June said something.”

“She did.”

It was a good thing she was a few thousand miles away and too pregnant to be angry at. “Yeah, well, it’s still writing. And I like new challenges.” With everyone so interested in adapting my other books into movies and television series, I didn’t expect Scott and Lucy to want to adapt my new romance series as well. But they actually came to me, proposing a series that would last at least three seasons.

And while I was a huge part of adapting my other series, I was never fully involved. I kept to writing my books and helping when it made the most sense.

But this time I wanted to do it all. Write, produce, everything.

“New challenges are good,” Roman agreed. “But what will happen to Wes’s career as a cover model?”

I laughed. “Well, maybe he’ll become an actor.”

“No.” Five different people turned to face us, all saying the same thing with the same terrified expressions.

“Absolutely not,” Jack said, shaking his head. “The world isn’t prepared for that much Wes Allen.”

I SCREAMED until I was hoarse when Wes and Erik tag-teamed throwing out Luke Ray at second when he tried to steal the base. I screamed even more when Erik hit a bomb out to left field that the outfielders had to run around chasing. He got to third standing up and then home on the next play.

By the time he was done with post-game interviews, the kids were asleep. Bernice took them back to the lake house we rented for the short family reunion and left me to make my way back with Erik alone.

“The kids with the family?” Olivia Kaine asked as she waited with me for the guys to finish dressing.

“Yep. Since the family has trouble getting together for holidays, we decided to make it a big family reunion. The next two days are nothing but family and relaxation. You?”

“Linc and Allie are with my sister back at the hotel. Our only plans are to sleep and swim.” Allison, their youngest, was also very close in age to Calissa and had been giving them a hard time. She simply wasn’t much of a sleeper, unfortunately.

“I certainly plan on sleeping quite a lot before break is over.” I constantly had to remind myself that breaks were as valuable as working. If I didn’t stop and smell the roses, what would I have to write about? Writing? Diaper changes? Which pajamas were my favorite? Not exactly hot romance novel material.

Which was why I was looking forward to some alone time with my sexy All-Star hubby. Family time would help, but first…alone time.

“Hey babe.” Chris Kaine threw his arm over Olivia’s shoulder. “Let’s get out of here. Oh, hey Zoe! Have a great night. Erik should be right out.”

“Good game, Chris. You pitched two great innings!”

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was as exhausted as Olivia. “Thanks. I’ll see you Friday?”

I gave him a short salute. “Wouldn’t miss a home game.”

And then I was in one of Erik’s infamous bear hugs as he kissed the top of my head. “There’s the sexiest wife in all of baseball.”

I burrowed into his strong, safe chest. “I’m so proud of you.”

He walked me backward as he kissed me. “I’ve got a lot of adrenaline pumping through me.”

“That’s okay. It’s kind of hot seeing you so wound up.”

He kissed my cheek and whispered, “Can’t be as free as I’d like with a house full of family, though.”

“Ah, this is where you thank your amazing wife for being so much smarter than you.”

He leaned back, eyebrow arched. “What has my brilliant wife done?”

I grinned. “I kept your All-Star hotel room. We can go to the house later. Or in the morning.”

Erik groaned low in his throat as he squeezed my bottom. “I love you so much, and I am going to reward you so hard for this, Mrs. Cassidy.”

“I was planning on it, Mr. Cassidy.”

We didn’t splurge on penthouse suites very often, but this was a very, very special occasion, and what was the point of making all this money if we didn’t use it to our advantage from time to time?

Since we never checked out we didn’t have to stop when we arrived at the hotel. We went straight to the elevators and up, up, up to the privacy and indulgence of the isolated suite.

Erik stopped inside the room, his hand holding mine. “Do you remember that day? At sushi?”

“When I was a hot-mess express? Hard to forget. Wasn’t I wearing two different shoes?”

“I don’t remember. You could have been wearing clown shoes and I wouldn’t have noticed. I was just so excited to be near you.”

If only I’d known what a good thing I was missing by keeping Erik at arm’s length. I wouldn’t have been so scared of getting close to him and I wouldn’t have run away that day like a frightened rabbit. “The more we want something, the more it scares us.” At least it used to. I was learning to be less scared of going after the things I wanted. “But now I know that I’m not alone, the things I want don’t scare me as much.”

Suddenly I was against the wall with his mouth on mine. “You deserve the world, Zo. Anything you want. Always.”

And that was why I never doubted how much Erik loved me. “Right now, all I want is you.”

“That’s what reminded me of that day at the sushi restaurant, actually.”

Well that was strange. “Me wanting you in a fancy hotel room reminded you of an awkward sushi lunch from years ago?”

“Sure does.” He pressed kisses against my throat, behind my ear, and nuzzled his nose along mine before looking so deeply into my eyes I couldn’t breathe from the intensity of it. “I could see it all. Always did with you, even though you kept running away from me. Whenever you were near, I could see forever.”

Well that was so sweet my teeth hurt! “Oh yeah? And what did forever look like back then?”

His hand slid under my custom-made baseball jersey with his name on the back. “It’s always the same thing. I’m on the floor of a big, bright living room. You’re sitting beside me laughing while I tickle one kid. The other crawls over and I cuddle him into my chest. Then all three of you are in my arms.”

“Fuck, Erik,” I breathed out. How could he see it back then? We weren’t even together. How could he imagine our kids?

“The details are easy to change,” he murmured. “Two, three, four kids. Whatever. The point is that we love each other and we’re so happy we can’t help being together and laughing. Today was an amazing day. One I’ll never, ever forget. But what I’m looking forward to most is spending my life with you and watching our kids grow up.”

“Are you trying to make me cry?” I swiped a tear away and burrowed into his neck.

“Maybe a little. I’m just so happy, Zo. I want you to understand how completely, deeply happy I am, but I won’t be fully content until you’re just as happy.”

“Oh, Erik.” I cupped his face in my hands. “I am just as happy. I am. Do I have my issues still? Sure. But the grip they have on me loosens every single day, thanks to you and the kids. It’s just a matter of habit at this point, I think.”

He lifted me up in his arms, even though he had to be tired. “Time to break those last few bad habits, then.” He turned us into the luxurious bathroom and sat on the edge of the large bathtub. He kept one hand on my waist while he reached back and turned on the faucet. “Love is unconditional or it isn’t really love.” He began unbuttoning my jersey. “Love is freeing. Love is light. Love is powerful.”

It doesn’t control, diminish, or hurt. I recited the negative words because Erik always refused to voice them. Steam began to creep up the mirrors, and the rhythmic whooshing of water lulled me into a state of relaxation. Love isn’t a scorecard. Love isn’t a transaction. Love isn’t a scrap you wait around hoping for a bit of.

“I love you, Zoe. Unconditionally. Forever and ever. No matter what.” He stood up and I began unbuttoning his dress shirt.

“Sometimes I feel ridiculous. Even after all these years, I still need to hear you say that.”

He took my hands in his. “It’s not ridiculous. I know you know how much I love you.” He dipped down so that we were eye to eye. “I know it. I also know how deep your wounds are. It takes a hell of a lot of time to heal. There is nothing ridiculous about healing, no matter how long it takes.”

“But you don’t deserve it.” I sniffled. “All you’ve ever done is love me. There is no reason you should be punished for someone else’s actions.”

There were very few times I saw Erik truly mad. And hoo boy was he mad now. “Loving you is not punishment. I love you. Not some version of you. I love the woman I first met, I love the woman standing in front of me today, and I will love the woman you become many years from now. We’re both works in progress, and if we only love each other for who we were at one specific point in time, then that love was conditional after all.”

God damn he was so emotionally healthy it was ridiculous. If there was one thing Bernice did right in raising all these Cassidy kids, it was this. And it was my mission in life to repeat that success with Calissa and Ben. “You’re right. I still can’t seem to stop blaming myself. It stops now.” I kissed him long and hard to seal my promise.

I meant it. It was time to be done with the past.

We crawled into the hot bath and held each other for a long time. Every stroke of a hand relaxed and every rub of my neck released that old grip on my heart until, suddenly, all at once, it was just gone. The last shadowy fingers of doubt and anxiety vanished from my life. It only took one marriage and two kids to finally convince me the only way to live my life was by looking forward.

I ran a finger down his chest, chasing a drop of water. “They say you’re entering the final act of your career.”

He chuckled once. “And?”

“And you picked off the leading base stealer in all of baseball and hit a triple today.”

He grabbed my hand and brought it to his lips. “See? What people think doesn’t matter. Maybe I finish this season and I’m done. Maybe I play ten more years. No one knows. Not until we live it.”

“I used to think not knowing what comes next was terrifying. But now I think it’s exciting. I really like doing life with you, Erik Cassidy.”

“I really like doing life with you too. But, unfortunately, I do know what happens next.”

“Oh really?”

He nodded, the look on his face gravely serious. “We both have orgasms. And then a fantastic night of sleep. And then breakfast in bed.”

“That is the only prudent way to celebrate a day like today.”

If you enjoyed Extra Innings, you might also like the Wild Pitch Series!

About the Author

Alexis Anne is the author of the steamy contemporary romance series The Storm Inside, Wild Pitch, Reckless Kiss, and The World of Tease. She used to spend her days as an archaeologist surveying undeveloped parts of Florida, but now she writes books for a living. She’s the mother to two men-in-training, wife to the Sexy Editor, hiker, bourbon expert, chocolate lover, and television show binger.

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RUTHLESS DESIRE

A RUTHLESS ROYALS EXTENDED EPILOGUE

AMANDA RICHARDSON

CHAPTER ONE

BRIAR

Present

I CAN’T REMEMBER the last time I felt something other than exhausted. Between potty training, preschool drop-off, and listening to other people’s problems as a therapist, I hardly have time to shower, let alone have sex with my four partners. Most days, I fall asleep half a page into the same book I’ve been trying to finish for a year. Talk about bone tired. It’s not like the guys don’t help—they do. And I’m lucky enough to have close friends, all of whom can commiserate with me.

Whenever we can schedule time to see each other, that is.

Being a mom to a young kid isn’t easy. My priorities have shifted, and I’m okay with that. Sometimes, though, I miss feeling sexy. Feeling wanted. My partners are wonderful, and they certainly make me feel like I’ve still got it. But gone are the days of wild, reckless sex. I’m lucky if I get one night with each of them a month. And we can never seem to coordinate days, either.

The days that I’m too tired are the days Ash doesn’t have an early campaign meeting, so we end up falling asleep while watching reruns of Conan. Same with Hunter—he’s on a completely different schedule than me, staying up late most nights to write. Which means he needs to sleep during the day. Samson is the easiest to coordinate sexy times with, as we both have demanding jobs. And Ledger? He’s Ledger, and he waltzes in and ravishes me whenever he sees fit. I love that about him, but I wish we could all have that—together.

There was once a time when we couldn’t keep our hands off each other—couldn’t resist dropping trou and having each other then and there. And when I got pregnant, those times got a little less frequent. I mean, when you’re nine months pregnant in the dead of summer, you don’t want anything touching you. Now, I’m four years into this mothering gig, and I can’t remember the last time we all had a night together.

Which is exactly why I’ve booked us into Hot Hot Heat—the new sex club in Boston.

They have no idea, of course. But I had to do something. The last time Samson came over to have sex, I’d dropped my sweatpants and we’d banged in the guest bathroom while Easton watched Blippi in the other room. It was nice, and it felt good, but I miss dressing up. I miss having sex and not having a timer going off to indicate that dinner is burning in the oven. I miss the lead up and foreplay. Mostly, I miss when we were all together and doing things like that.

I have about twenty minutes to shower and get ready, so I’m rushing around as the guys roam in and out of the bedroom, throwing clothes on and muttering about the dinner plans. I’m feeling particularly resentful, as I let my last client go over her time, and now I’m going to have to rush. I love my job—I really do. But I miss putting myself first. Which is why tonight is going to be great. Easton is with my mom, and the guys think we’re going out to celebrate Ledger’s birthday.

That couldn’t be further from the truth.

Luckily, we all moved in together last year. When I first had Easton, I needed my space, and we all had separate homes. Now, though? Between T-ball practice, preschool, my job, Ash’s crazy media schedule, and everything else going on, it made sense to share one space. I got the idea of pushing two king-size beds together from Lennon, my best friend. It’s a tight fit with five adults, but we make it work. Plus, Easton’s favorite thing to do on Sunday mornings is jump into bed with all of us and cuddle. I smile as I think about it—about all the love he has surrounding him.

I guess that’s a benefit of having parents who are in a polyamorous relationship.

I swipe on some dark lipstick, run a hand through my damp hair, and then I’m heading downstairs in a dress that’s a little bit too tight from my pre-pregnancy days.

“There she is,” Hunter says, walking over to me. He places a kiss on my temple. “Beautiful, as always.”

“Let’s go,” Ash says, the most serious of the bunch. He was a total jokester in high school, but now that he’s running as a representative for the state of Massachusetts, he’s turned into Mr. Serious Politician. But I secretly love the brooding demeanor he’s picked up from his job, even if his job is demanding. “I’m starving,” he adds, putting an arm around my shoulders and squeezing once.

I wince. “You may want to get a snack before we go.”

He scowls down at me, his eyes boring into mine. “Aren’t we going out to eat?”

I rub his arm. “Yes, but just in case there’s a wait. I don’t want you to get hangry.”

“I’ll pack us some snacks,” Samson says quickly, heading to the kitchen. He’s always the one who thinks ahead, who remembers the umbrella and sunscreen, and who never forgets to keep five adults and one toddler fed and comfortable.

I look over at Ledger, who is sitting at the dining room table with a sketchpad and charcoal pencil. Walking over to him, I peer over his shoulder.

“That’s good,” I muse, stroking his hair. He’s drawn a beach landscape—the same one he’s drawn repeatedly for months.

He shrugs. “I can’t get the waves right.”

I run a hand along his neck, and he moans, leaning back a bit. “You will,” I say, my voice soothing. “Tonight, though, let’s go have fun. It is your birthday dinner, after all.”

He looks up and gives me a wan smile. “I suppose I can take a break.”

I wink. “Trust me. You’ll want to take a break for this.”

He smiles, his hand coming to my ass. “Oh really?”

“Let’s go!” Ash calls from the kitchen.

I pull Ledger up and we walk to the kitchen. All three of them are chowing down on Easton’s leftover macaroni and cheese.

“I was going to suggest an apple or something, but that works too,” I joke. “Come on. We have a reservation.” I grab my purse, and the five of us head out to the car. Along with the supersized bed, we had to get a three-row minivan to fit all of us. I grab the keys from Hunter, smirking at his surprised expression. Opening the door, I toss my hair over my shoulder. “I’m driving.”

Once everyone loads into the car, I notice the guys looking at each other. Hunter looks over at me from the passenger seat.

“This is weird,” he says, his dark eyebrows knitting together.

“She’s up to something,” Samson says from the back seat.

“Definitely up to something,” Hunter says, quirking his eyebrows at me as he closes his door.

“I’m glad I ate something, because I don’t think we’re going to the restaurant,” Ash chimes in.

“But it’s my birthday,” Ledger whines, and they all laugh. I just smile and stay silent, driving us out of Greythorn and into Boston.

I turn on the new Lizzo album, and we all stay silent the rest of the drive. Every minute or so, I catch one of them looking at me. They have no idea what’s coming, and I can’t wait to see their faces once we arrive.

Thirty minutes later, we’ve gotten through the traffic, and I find a parking garage a few blocks from the address I have up on my phone. Once we park, we walk down the quiet road just outside the city. I walk ahead of them, afraid they’ll see the surprise in my expression. Ledger catches up with me and puts an arm around my shoulders.

“This doesn’t look like the way to DiMaggio’s,” he purrs into my ear.

I smirk. “Shut up and keep walking, okay?”

“What does my little lamb have up her sleeve?”

Goose bumps skitter across my skin at his words. None of them have called me that for… years. It sounded so silly around Easton, so we just stopped. I’m realizing now that we stopped doing a lot of things that made me fall in love with them.

Something that I’m trying to rectify tonight.

When we get close to the address, I turn and face my partners. “Just trust me tonight, okay?”

Hunter looks around, scowling. I worry about him—and Ash too. They’re possessive of me. I know they’re open-minded—hello, we’re in a polyamorous relationship—but I hope the sex club isn’t too much. We used to be kinky, but that was a long time ago. We’ve all changed. And even back then, we never did anything like this. But maybe that’s a good thing.

“What are we doing in this neighborhood, Briar?” he asks, looking all sulky and cute.

“You’ll see. I just…” I wring my hands together. “I really want us all to connect again.”

“We are connected,” Ash interjects, stepping forward. I wring my hands together, suddenly realizing where I’ve brought him. He’s the mayor—the freaking mayor of Greythorn—and I’m dragging him to a sex club. He’s up for a seat in Congress this fall. What the hell was I thinking?

“I meant… on a primal level,” I add, sweat beginning to drip down my back. I shift my weight from foot to foot. “But on second thought, maybe this wasn’t the best idea.”

Ledger steps forward. “Then show us.” He eyes the building we’re about to enter. “You went to all of this trouble.”

Samson smirks from the back of the group, eyeing me knowingly. He fidgets with a cufflink, his eyes twinkling. “I’m interested to see what you have planned.”

I look at Hunter and Ash, and Ash shrugs. “If it seems sketchy, we’ll leave.”

“Agreed,” I reply, excitement flashing through my veins. My eyes find Hunter’s. “What about you?”

He scowls at me and rubs his lips. “Well, I’m outnumbered now.”

I cock my head and take his hands, pulling him into me. His eyebrows shoot up when I mumble my next sentence into his ear.

“Come on, stepbrother. What are you afraid of?” I ask, my voice sultry and low.

His pupils darken instantly, and his hands rove down to my ass as he thrusts against me. I arch into him as he bends down, licking the spot behind my ear. God, we haven’t acted like this in so long. Like horny teenagers. My stomach bottoms out as his teeth sink into the sensitive flesh on my neck.

“I’m not afraid, little lamb. But you should be.”

I gasp, nearly moaning. I’ve missed this so fucking much. Before I ruin the surprise, I pull away and look at my other three partners.

“Ready?” I ask, looking at them.

They all look back at me like a hungry pack of wolves, ready to devour every inch of me. I don’t wait for an answer as I twist around and march to the unassuming front door of Hot Hot Heat. The security guard lets us through, and we all sign non-disclosure agreements—which makes me feel so much better about Ash running for Congress.

I feel them behind me as we walk into the club.

My men.

My life partners.

I can feel the intense, potent hunger in the air. We’ve all been cooped up for far too long, giving ourselves to our son and our respective lives. But when was the last time we put our pleasure first?

My heart races as I think about what I’m giving them permission to do—what we’ve gone so long without.

And I’m not sure if I’m ready to awaken the slumbering beast inside of all of them, because I know they’re aching to unleash their brutal, ruthless sides.

The same ruthlessness I fell in love with ten years ago.

CHAPTER TWO

BRIAR

I’M NOT sure what I expected a sex club to look like, but a swanky bar is not what I envisioned. I suppose the idea of a sex club elicited images of dungeons, machines, whips, and chains. But now that my eyes are adjusting to the dark space, I can see that everyone is dressed just as nice as us—in suits, ties, dresses. There’s soft music playing, voices murmuring, glasses clinking. Everything is white—the furniture, the leather of the couches, the barstools, the walls—and above the bar is a giant, neon pink sign that says Hot Hot Heat. When I turn around to face the guys, they’re all looking around, wide-eyed.

“I’ve heard of this place,” Ash says smoothly, walking over to me and placing an arm around my waist.

“Yeah?” I ask nervously. He nuzzles his face into my neck, and I close my eyes. “You’re not disappointed that we’re not going out to eat?”

He chuckles, and the low timbre of his voice sends shivers down my spine. “Oh, I’m not hungry for food anymore. I’m hungry for something else.”

I nearly sob at his words. First Hunter and now him… I was so worried we’d never get this again. This primal, carnal part of us. I thought being parents had broken us, turned us into robotic roommates who sometimes have good sex, but it wasn’t exactly mind-blowing anymore. I couldn’t remember the last time we all had a sexual encounter that excited me, And for the first time in a long time, I feel my clit pulse between my thighs at the prospect of it.

Samson walks to the bar, and I see him order us drinks as Hunter looks around, giving me a dark, knowing smile when our eyes meet. I turn to face Ledger, and he’s scowling.

“What’s wrong?” I laugh, placing two hands on his chest. He grabs them and looks down at me, his brows furrowed.

“Am I the only one confused about why we’re in a fancy bar and why we had to sign an NDA?”

I smirk, wondering if I should tell him or play with him a little bit. Toying with Ash and Hunter has me in a playful mood, so I decide to mess with him. I’d done a little research on the place before booking. There are separate rooms to the left of the bar—like hotel rooms you can rent by the hour, if you want privacy. To the right is where we’re going, though. It’s called the Lair. It’s a lounge area that’s large enough for over a hundred people, and it’s not visible until you walk down into the sunken room.

As Samson brings us a tray of drinks, I lead us to the stairs as everything inside the Lair becomes visible.

There are leather couches, chairs, and tables. Sort of like an upscale lounge. Except, instead of people talking, they’re…

I feel Ledger stiffen beside me. “Are they…” He trails off, looking into the large, recessed room.

Where there are naked people having sex.

“Damn,” Ash says, looping an arm around my shoulder. “This is hot.” He smirks and kisses me on the top of my head.

My cheeks burn as I look at all the bodies, doing things in positions I haven’t even attempted since I pushed a baby out of my vagina. A sudden wave of self-consciousness washes over me when I think about what I might look like out there. Saggy breasts from breastfeeding Easton for two and a half years, a pooch in my lower tummy that never went away, the stretch marks on my ass…

“We don’t have to go down there right away,” I whisper, looking at Samson as I say it. “We can have a couple of drinks up here and then decide.” He’s the safest bet, right? He’ll tell me how ridiculous this is. As much as I want it, maybe getting naked in front of all these beautiful women was a terrible idea. I grab my drink and shoot it, wincing slightly as it goes down. “I mean, these women are so different from—”

“Are you joking?” he growls, handing the drinks to Hunter and walking up to me. He roughly pulls me into his firm body. “I can’t wait to show everyone down there just how good my girl can be, how hard she can take it,” he continues, his voice low and rough. I see his eyes find Ash’s in the dark room, and my skin begins to tingle. I love watching the two of them together.

Someone spanks my ass, and I twist in surprise as Ledger winks at me, walking down the stairs first.

“Happy fucking birthday to me,” he says, his voice giddy. His smile is akin to a kid in a candy shop.

I find Hunter’s eyes, and he cocks his head, nudging his chin in the direction of the Lair.

“You think we’d pass up an opportunity to fuck you in public?”

I blush. “I wasn’t sure if—”

Samson grinds against me, and I moan when I feel his hard length against my hip, and that’s all the answer I need.

We all walk down the stairs and into the Lair, where we’re met by a man in a suit. He’s holding a clipboard, and after I give him our names, he goes over the main rules.

“No touching strangers unless they ask,” he starts, looking behind him briefly. “This is a voyeur hall, so everyone here likes to watch and/or be watched. Touching is a whole other ball game. Got it?” I nod nervously, excitement skirting down my bones as he goes over everything else with us. “Protection is at your discretion, but we keep track of who came with whom, so if you decide to have a little fun with a stranger—”

“That won’t be happening,” Hunter growls from next to me. Ah, there’s the possessiveness.

After that, the man ushers us into the Lair.

“I thought I’d get a blowjob for my birthday or something,” Ledger jokes, looking around with excitement. “But this is so much better.”

“You can still have a blowjob,” I offer, winking. “Just in front of all of these people.”

His eyes narrow as he looks around. “That’s fucking hot, babe.” Before I can protest, he’s dragging me to the middle of the room.

“What are you—” He pushes me down onto the dais, and I gasp when I look around. “Here?”

I’m not sure what I expected coming here. I knew I didn’t want to book a room—I wanted a different experience than what I would get at home in a bedroom. I wanted excitement, maybe to watch and be watched from a dark corner somewhere. I did not expect for Ledger to drag me up onto the main stage of the room so brazenly.

“Of course here,” he growls, his hands already skirting up my dress. Hunter comes behind me, putting his arms under me and pulling me to the center. “I want every fucking person in this room to see how beautiful you look when you come.”

My whole body heats at his words. Samson and Ash are close behind, hopping up onto the dais and beginning to unbutton their shirts. I wish I had another drink to help with my nerves, but when I look at the tray Hunter set down, the glasses are all empty.

“I need another drink for this,” I whine. Ledger lays me down on the dais, and his hands begin to play with my lace underwear. My pulse speeds up as I prop myself on my elbows, and my breathing becomes heavier.

“You don’t need alcohol, little lamb,” Hunter says, his voice low. “Look around us. No one cares that you’ll be the loudest girl here. And neither should you.”

Cocky bastard.

My eyes dart to the male couple closest to us. The first man has his hands on his partner’s hips, pulling him onto his cock roughly. Both are crying out, and I nearly let out a whimper when I see the man’s hands curl around his partner’s neck.

“You like that, don’t you?” Ledger asks, roughly brushing my underwear aside and inserting a finger inside of me. His skin is calloused and rough from doing his art, and it feels exquisite as it stretches me. “Watching others?” I arch my back, groaning and bucking my hips. I guess we’re just going for it, then.

“I think she does like it,” Hunter answers from behind me, and I drop my head back to look behind me. His cock is hovering above me as he kneels. The end is already seeping with precum, and this time, I do whimper out loud. I lie down to get a better view of him. “Look how flushed she is,” he growls, bending down and painting my lips with the wetness coming out of him. “She’s ready for our cocks,” he adds, and I hear the fraying of his voice—the way he’s already coming undone.

Fuck.

Maybe we need to do things like this more often.

“Tell us what you want, Briar,” Samson says, pulling Ash close.

I see the lust blazing in their eyes. Once upon a time, they fucked like rabbits, and I loved watching every second of it. I utter the words I haven’t spoken out loud in years.

“Ledger, on the ground,” I say, the moans of the people around me making everything inside of me throb. I feel like I’ve been electrocuted in the best possible way. He does as I say and then I sit up and pull my dress over my head.

Nothing will ever compare to the way all four of them are looking at me right now. After being pregnant, giving birth, breastfeeding, and not taking care of my body because I was just so exhausted… I always worry they won’t find me attractive anymore. But as their eyes hover on my matching lingerie set, I can tell that’s not the case. I smile as I move myself on top of Ledger. He begins to pull his pants down, but I reach out for his wrist.

“Clothes on,” I beg, loving the idea of them being clothed and forbidden. Something about being on display, being nearly naked on top of him while they unzip themselves… it feels verboten.

Maybe I don’t just like to watch. Maybe I do like to be watched too.

Without warning, Ledger rips my underwear off, and I gasp.

“Bra off,” Ledger commands. I reach for the clasp and the black lace bra falls to the floor of the dais.

Completely naked now, I lower myself onto Ledger’s cock, and he groans as I adjust around him. Without them, I’d be humiliated right now. I’d be trying to find the most flattering position—one where the extra flesh on my hips doesn’t roll when I squat down. But as Ledger’s hands come to rest on that exact imperfection, I realize… it doesn’t matter. Because they love me. We’re here tonight for ourselves—and no one else. Sure, it’s hot to watch. But at the end of the day, we are all that matters.

Just a queen with her four kings.

“God, your pussy is so fucking perfect,” Ledger grunts, rubbing my skin and bucking his hips underneath me.

From my peripheral I see a few people close by look over at us, but I’m not paying attention to them. Leaning down, I kiss him, and I feel Hunter take his position behind me. One of them must have procured lube, because I feel cool liquid drip down my back and a warm thumb against my back entrance.

Ledger moves me up and down his shaft with his hands, coating it with my arousal. I drop my mouth open, groaning. His hands move back and his fingers dig into my ass as I roll my hips, giving him the friction he craves.

“You’re so beautiful, do you know that?”

His words make me smile, giving me the confidence to ride him harder. His nails work my ass on top of him, moving me roughly up and down his cock. His depraved grunts are going to make me explode soon.

Hunter comes behind me, his hand running up my back to the front of my neck. “You want this?” he asks, his grip tightening. “You like my hand here, around your pretty, little neck?”

I groan and nod. He chokes me as the head of his cock teases my ass. A second later, he penetrates the tight ring there, and I cry out, full of both men at the same time. This was my favorite position back in the day, and it appears that my body still loves it. I can feel my pussy flutter around Ledger’s shaft. Hunter breathes heavily behind me.

“Come here,” I beg, my voice hoarse and uneven as I look at Samson and Ash. “I want to watch you fuck,” I state.

They drop into position quickly—Ash going to his knees as Samson unsheathes himself. He knows I love his cock ring. I see his shaft bob in front of Ash’s mouth, and Ash takes him deep as he hisses.

It’s moments like this that make me realize how tight we really are—how close, how connected. Samson moans as he fucks Ash’s mouth. I whimper as Hunter’s hand tightens around my throat. Ledger reaches down to my clit, rubbing two fingers in circles. It feels like too much all at once—the pressure from both filling me and watching Samson’s mouth drop open as Ash takes him into the back of his throat. I love them, and I love this—the carnal, ruthless desire we all share. I’m so glad we’ve still got it—so glad we can still have moments like this.

Suddenly, a lightning-quick orgasm tears through me.

I feel my pussy contract around Ledger’s cock. I whimper as I say their names—all four of them. My body is pulsating, and my toes curl underneath me as I throw my head back. His fingers are still working my clit, and Hunter pounds into me from behind, making my orgasm roll seamlessly into another one.

“Choke me harder,” I beg my stepbrother.

Those are three words I never thought I’d utter again after having a baby, but here we are.

I spray Ledger’s chest as my pussy tightens around him, my second climax stronger than the first. I arch my back as he slaps my clit, and I’m shaking, trembling, completely and totally at their mercy as Hunter tightens his grip on my neck. I can feel him throb inside of my ass, filling it as Ledger roars, his face wet with my come.

Jesus.

Hunter pulls out and I finish riding Ledger. He moves me hard on his cock, and we both watch as he slows his tempo, his head knocking back onto the dais as ropes of come hit my cervix. His cock pulses inside of me, and I smile down at him as he closes his eyes.

“Fuck,” he says, rubbing his mouth.

Samson pulls out of Ash’s mouth. “My turn,” he says, his gaze dark and heady.

Ledger pulls out of me, his seed spilling out and down my thighs.

Instead of taking me there in the center of the dais, Samson pulls me up and hoists me around him so he’s carrying me. I wrap my legs around his waist, grinning as my arms curl around his neck.

“Be a good girl and let us come inside of you now,” he murmurs, and I gasp as he thrusts into me at the same time as Ash—who takes my ass.

“Oh God,” I whimper as Ash’s hands come around to Samson’s. Together, they hold me up—supporting me, lifting me, and pounding into me. I twist my neck to kiss Ash, and then I kiss Samson as Ash kisses the back of my neck. I feel so full, so stretched—so fulfilled.

“We need to do this more often,” Ash grumbles from behind me.

“We sure do,” Samson agrees.

I move my hips in response, and they both go still as I buck up and down their thick lengths.

“Fuck, Briar,” Samson says, pulling his lower lip into his mouth as he watches me fuck him. “This is so hot.”

“Come for us, little lamb,” Ash commands from behind me. “Ride our cocks until this dais is soaking with your come.”

I undulate my hips, somehow moving up and down enough to give them both friction. I feel Ash’s cock stiffen in my ass and then he grabs my hips as he comes. It sends a climax skittering down my spine, and I cry out as wave after wave of pulsing pleasure flash through me. I can hear how wet I am, and it only spurs Samson on. He roars as he fills me, as his shaft hardens even more and he empties inside of me.

Once we’re done, we stay locked together for a minute, breathing heavily. Finally, they place me back down on my feet, and I wobble a bit. Hunter is there to catch me immediately, laying me down so that we can catch our breaths.

I’m completely soaked with sweat, come, and who knows what else. My hair is sticking to the back of my neck. We’re all quiet, all coming down from the high. I look around, remembering where we are. God, did I just do that in a room full of people?

I’d forgotten there were other people in the room.

The guys are so good at making me feel like the only girl here.

“Well, that was fun,” Hunter says, reaching over and using a disposable wipe to clean me up.

“Where the hell did that wipe come from?” I ask, looking around.

Ledger smirks, fully clothed again. “They’re handing them out. Like on an airplane, except instead of your face, it’s for your—”

“Yeah, got it,” I say on a laugh. Hunter finishes, helping me up and back into my bra. “You ruined my underwear,” I tell Ledger accusingly.

“Worth. It,” he says, grinning.

When everyone is dressed, we walk back upstairs to the bar.

“Should we get another drink and then go to dinner?” I ask, looking at Ledger. It is his birthday, after all. The four of them just stare at me. “What?”

Hunter smirks, handing me a glass of wine. “Oh, little lamb. We’re just getting started.”

CHAPTER THREE

HUNTER

I FEEL THOROUGHLY SATIATED by the time the club closes. Satiated and completely emptied out. I smile as I drive us home—as I look over at Briar, who is sleeping in the back between Ledger and Ash. Samson is in the passenger seat, staring out of the window.

“I miss Easton,” he says, huffing a laugh.

I grin. “I couldn’t wait to get away for a night, but now all I want is to snuggle up with him.”

“Funny how that works, huh?”

I nod. “Yep. Now that he’s like a little kid, it’s so much easier. Remember how hard it was when he was a baby?”

“So much poop.” We both laugh, and Samson is quiet for a few seconds. “Do you ever want another one?” he asks, his voice unsure.

I look back in the rear-view mirror as I pull off the highway, nearly to Greythorn.

“Sometimes. I think of the love we have with Easton, and how awesome it would be to bring another kid into the world.” Shrugging, I look at Samson as I pull up to a red light. “But it’s not up to us, is it?”

Samson shakes his head. “I know. I’ll support her, no matter what.”

I smile when I look at Briar in the rear-view mirror again. The idea of another child has come up a few times since Easton was born. I know how hard pregnancy was for her, and especially the postpartum period. She wasn’t herself for a couple of years after he was born. I know she loves being a mom, but I wouldn’t fault her for stopping at one. After all, she has all of us too. It’s not like we’re lacking in the large family department.

At the end of the day, it’s her choice, and we’ll all support her, no matter what.

We pick Easton up from my dad and Aubrey’s house. He hardly moves when we bring him up to his bedroom and tuck him into his toddler bed. When I shut the door, I see Briar looking at me from the doorway of our bedroom across the hallway. I hear the other guys getting ready for bed in the bathroom, laughing about something. If there’s one thing our house lacks, it’s silence.

Walking over to her, I pull her into me, brushing her hair out of her face. She’s in her favorite flannel pajamas, and she has toothpaste on her lower lip. Her hair is pulled up into a ponytail, and her face is free of makeup.

“What?” she asks, tilting her face to look up at me.

I kiss her nose before trailing down to her lips, pulling away and smiling.

“As amazing as you looked tonight, I prefer this version of you,” I murmur.

I swear I see the hint of a blush bloom on her cheeks. “Really? But the whole reason I wanted to go out tonight was because—”

I place a finger on her lips. “This is our life, Briar. Tonight was great, and a hell of a lot of fun,” I say smoothly. “But I prefer our real life. The messy, crazy, rushed life we have here together with Easton.”

Her eyes twinkle. “You’re right,” she says slowly. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t go back.”

I smirk. “Or make more of an effort to make you come four times in a row.”

Her smile widens. “Or that.”

I reach down and pick her up, throwing her over my shoulder as she squeals.

“Starting tonight.”

Thank you so much for reading! If you’ve read Ruthless Crown and Ruthless Queen, I hope this extended epilogue was satisfying! If you haven’t read either of the Ruthless Royals books, you can start Briar’s story in Ruthless Crown here!

About the Author

Amanda Richardson writes from her chaotic dining room table in Yorkshire, England, often distracted by her husband and two adorable sons. When she’s not writing contemporary and dark, twisted romance, she enjoys coffee (a little too much) and collecting house plants like they’re going out of style.

Find out more here: www.authoramandarichardson.com

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FATE STEPS IN

AMELIA WILDE

CHAPTER ONE

ZEUS

SOMETIMES, on very pleasant days like this one, I think of the childhood my brothers and I had.

It’s a mindset issue, really.

It was awful at the farmhouse. Nothing like the idyll unfolding down below my balcony now. We got out as soon as we could, but we remained trapped there, each in our way.

We still needed each other, after all. Kept up business arrangements and various battles for years.

In the end, it was Demeter who brought us back together. Demeter, who just wanted to grow flowers and play games. She was our foster father’s only daughter. She never had a chance. He cultivated evil in her. He tried to do the same to all of us.

Love brought me back from the brink.

Brigit brought me back.

Innocent. Defiant. Heartbreaking when she stood up to me at the whorehouse.

Now she stands by the pool house with Ashley, my brother’s wife. She tamed me, even though I believed no one could. The same way the other women tamed my brothers.

Somehow, despite everything, we’ve become domesticated.

After the whorehouse burned and we turned it into a women’s shelter, I built a new home for myself. A beautiful, sprawling mansion. A place of comfort and refuge. Miles of marble and leather and softness. Plenty of space for my brothers and their families to visit and stay. Room enough for all our children—both the ones Brigit gave birth to and the ones we’ve adopted along the way. An expansive resort-style pool. Multiple waterfalls, two twisting slides, and a private grotto enclave.

Did I buy the two properties on either side of mine just in case?

Perhaps.

Hades followed me next. He still keeps his home on the mountain, but after Daisy begged to go to school, he and Persephone decided to brave the city. And so they built a mansion next to ours. Smaller, but even more sumptuous. There are drapes made of literal diamonds. It’s just like my brother to be a show-off.

We never expected Poseidon to join us. Poseidon, who loves the sea. Poseidon, who would probably die on that ship of his. But he saw how peaceful Ashley felt when they visited. Before the twins were a year old, he relented. Conveniently, the land on the other side of my house was available. Their home is full of windows and light and rough-tumble rocks. Walking through it feels like a seaside retreat—if that seaside retreat were built by a billionaire. Glamping meets Tony Stark. That’s what I told him when I saw the plans.

So now I live in a little neighborhood of three with my brothers.

We don’t have an HOA, unless you count me constantly harassing them.

There’s no neighborhood watch, unless you count Hades’s obsessive security measures.

We do, however, have a start-of-summer pool party.

We started the tradition when the kids were young. Now they’re growing up.

But it doesn’t matter how old they get. Everyone loves the pool parties.

There’s half an acre of water total, which is nearly enough for Poseidon. He sits at the shallow end of the pool, kicking his feet lazily below the surface. Calliope, my youngest, floats close to him on an inflatable unicorn. The twins chase one another, clinging to the wall at Poseidon’s side. Orion balances on the ripples nearby, up on his feet.

“Apollo, look,” he says. “See?”

“Impressive.” Apollo, nineteen and destined to be the leader of the free world at the rate he’s going, strolls across the patio. He gives Orion a lazy smile and thumbs-up like he hasn’t seen this trick a thousand times. Everyone loves him. “Watch the edge of the pool, though.”

Orion rolls his eyes and tips himself under.

When he resurfaces, he splashes at Calliope, who splashes back.

I stepped onto the wide balcony outside the main bedroom for a reason. Not to supervise the everyday, commonplace scene at the pool down below. My family, gathering for a party.

The children, all grown up.

Cook glides out of the house and approaches Ashley, who rises on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. She’s delighted by the tray of frozen treats he’s brought and takes it out of his hands.

“Stay for the party, Cook. Please?” She turns her biggest smile on him.

“Let my staff take over? No, no. When I’m old enough for that, you’ll be the first to know.”

Ares comes outside next. He puts Apollo in a headlock on his way past and drags him good-naturedly over to the sunshade. The two of them confer at the sound system. Most times, they’re brothers in a way that Hades, Poseidon, and I only learned to be later. Comfortable. Friendly. Kind.

Artemis and Daisy come from the opposite side of the house, arms looped together, Daisy murmuring something into her ear. They’ve coordinated their bathing suits and see-through cover-ups. I have the vague sensation of an impending heart attack. Shortness of breath. We’ve skipped time, somehow. Flown over the years.

The balcony door opens, closing again just as softly. Then Brigit is beside me. She puts her hand on my arm. “It’s okay.”

“Where’s the rest of the swimsuits?”

“It’s called a bikini.” Humor dances in her eyes. “There’s a top and a bottom, but no middle. You like them well enough when I wear them.”

“You’re not fifteen years old.”

“Artemis asked me, but Daisy already had permission.”

“I cannot believe that Hades would agree to that.”

“Persephone gave her permission.”

I curse, knowing I’ve already lost. I’d rather they wore heavy cloth from head to toe. After all, more than anyone, I know the evil men that lurk in the world. I used to be one. With Brigit, at night in our bedroom, I still am. “First the homecoming dance, now this.”

“They’re growing up.” Brigit pats at my arm.

“I refuse to accept that,” I say fervently, making her laugh.

It was just yesterday that Daisy, my niece, was born on the mountain. I’d been harboring a secret terror of babies. I told myself I was ambivalent. That I didn’t particularly want children. I’d do right by Brigit and the baby, of course. But I wouldn’t lose myself in parenthood. I would maintain a professional distance. I’d keep myself at a safe remove.

And then Daisy was born.

I expected that Brigit and I would leave immediately following the birth. I expected that Hades and Persephone would want to be alone. I was wrong. When it came time to leave the hospital wing on the mountain for their private space, Persephone screwed up her courage and asked Brigit if we had any plans in the city.

“What kind of plans?” Brigit looked so beautiful then, with her hands on her belly and a gentle smile on her face.

“Plans that you could cancel,” Persephone said. “Could you just cancel them and stay?”

We stayed.

When Daisy was two-and-a-half weeks old, I found myself on the sofa in Hades’s round living room at three in the morning. We’d all been on a strange schedule, keeping them company, and I couldn’t sleep. Persephone was still exhausted, and Brigit was very pregnant and very tired. I thought it was one of the rare nights that Daisy slept, too. She had no sense of night or day and Hades spent hours walking with her so his wife could rest.

Except then he appeared in the hall, Daisy in his arms. He stepped down into the living room and came to stand in front of me, his eyes black in the starlight from the windows.

“I can’t put her down.” Hades was matter-of-fact as he swayed slightly from foot to foot. “If I put her down, she’ll cry. If I leave her in the bassinet, she’ll scream.”

“What about—”

“She is swaddled to within an inch of her life. I am the world’s foremost expert on swaddling.” He was serious. Daisy was a tiny, perfect burrito in his arms. Hades had met with three separate consultants on infant care while Persephone slept. “She’s had a bottle. There’s another bottle waiting in the kitchen.”

“What did the night nanny say?”

“I fired the night nanny.”

“Hades, why?”

“Because I can’t do it.” I barely recognized his expression. “I can’t walk away when I can hear her crying. The sound makes me sick.”

That was perhaps the most concerning development. Sick for Hades would result in a headache, and a headache would result in much worse.

“What can I do? There are other nannies, I’m sure. I’ll call right now and see if—”

“I need you to hold the baby.”

I’d held her a few times by then, for brief periods. “Now? You want me to take her now?”

“I’m going to lose my mind.” Hades was just as matter-of-fact about this. “I’m so tired I could die. But she’s too small. I could crush her if I fell asleep with her, and—” My brother shook his head. “She doesn’t cry with you. Just—” He leaned down and put her into my arms. “Don’t cry,” he said as he lifted his hands away. “Please. For an hour. Don’t cry.”

“I won’t,” I said.

He backed around the coffee table until his knees hit the curve of the sectional. Hades sat heavily and held his breath.

Daisy didn’t cry.

She was so small. Nearly weightless.

Hades stretched out and buried his head in his arms, and then I was effectively alone with my baby niece.

She wriggled her body, working one arm out of the swaddle by increments. A tiny hand popped above the fabric. Then she opened her eyes.

“Hello, Daisy,” I said. “No need to be alarmed. We can talk, but it would be best to remain calm. Your father is taking a nap, and if you cry, he’ll never forgive me.”

Another stretch. I felt her try to turn and decided it would be polite to help. Daisy pulled her legs up under her body and settled against my chest. I folded the blanket over her. Smoothed it out.

She went back to sleep.

That was when I knew it would be all right with Brigit. That was when I knew I had just been a coward. A liar. I wanted children, desperately.

We sat together until the sun came up.

We spent many hours like that while Persephone recovered and Hades slept. I learned about bottles and diapers and the steady way she liked to be patted on the back. I learned that it was going to be all right.

Seven years later, Daisy and Artemis came after us in a coordinated attack. They wanted to go to school together. Insisted upon going to school together. In the city, they said.

Any school, as long as it was together.

“Please, Daddy,” Daisy said, and I could feel Hades folding like a house of cards. We were downstairs in the living room. Calliope was still a round-cheeked baby who found her cousin Orion fascinating. Ashley was pregnant with the twins.

“We’ll have to discuss it.” Hades hated to tell her anything but yes. I could feel it in the air.

Later that night he disappeared. After an hour I went looking. His voice floated out of my office.

“—anything about schools. I’ve never even—what am I supposed to do, let her out on the curb and watch her walk away? Let her spend all day with strangers?”

I’d never heard him so horrified.

“You trust them?” he asked next.

There was a long pause.

“She’s happy there?”

Another pause.

“The windows. The lights. She can’t go unless—it would be an extensive renovation to manage before next year, and that’s if—” Footsteps. He was pacing. “What standing would I have to—are you sure?”

He sighed. Waited.

“I’ll meet you there tomorrow. Oh, fuck off, Leo. My best behavior is light-years beyond—” He laughed. “Fine. I’ll take your word for it.”

Construction on the house next door started a month later. His friends from the city were insufferable, constantly bothering the contractors and insisting on perfection for every detail.

Down below the balcony, Daisy laughs and jumps into the pool. The fifteen years since the living room have gone by in a blink. Artemis follows her, the two of them racing for inflatable rainbows.

One of the back doors bangs open, and Hercules strides out onto the patio. He’s seventeen and surly. Bristling, even at a pool party. He stalks around the pool to the sunshade and hovers near Ares and Apollo, his arms crossed over his chest like he’s daring them to attack. Even his tattoos, spiraling out from under a black T-shirt, seem pissed.

So angry. I shake my head. I’m exasperated, yes, but it’s a warm exasperation. Like the summer heat. Hercules is more like Hades than either of them want to admit. My son exasperates me in the same way that Hades used to. I want to call down to him—if you would just relax, everything would be okay. But, like Hades, Hercules seems constitutionally incapable of relaxing.

I can only hope he’ll grow out of it. Or at least be less pissed off about it. For his own sake, not mine. If he stays angry for the rest of his life, he’ll still be my son.

Music starts, Ares adjusting the volume. It’s a new song, and Poseidon laughs. “Who put you in charge of the music? Play something good.”

Ares shoots him a dark look and taps at something on his phone. An old-as-hell song from before anyone’s time except maybe Eleanor’s blares from the speakers. “Better?”

Hades’s side door opens, and he and Persephone come out. They make their way across the lawn at an easy pace, his arm around her shoulders. Just as they cross into the yard, he leans down and says something into her ear. She laughs, bright and happy, and everything is all right. It’s good. School is done for the year, the kids are home for a pool party.

But soon—

“Zeus?” Brigit tips her face toward mine. God, she’s so beautiful. Her smile dims a little. “Are you crying?”

“What? No.” I swipe at my eyes and pull her close. “It’s the heat. That’s all.”

She relaxes into my side and looks down at the pool. The yard. Our family. “They’re beautiful, strong, smart teenagers. And soon they’re going to be beautiful, strong, smart adults.”

“It was easier when we could just pick them up and flee the scene.” Soon they’ll be out in the world without us. I thought Hades was being a bit over-the-top about school, but now I think the same thing. What are we supposed to do, send them off to be with strangers?

Brigit’s expression softens. “I thought you were working, but you’re just basking, aren’t you?”

“Like a lizard?”

“Like a proud dad.”

I clear my throat. “I’m not sure I had much to do with it.”

“Please.” It’s a gentle scold. “You’ve given all these people as much as you could. Every choice. Every opportunity.”

“You don’t ever wish you’d flown away when you had the chance?”

“And left my heart behind? No. I never, ever wish for that.”

Daisy swims to the side of the pool and climbs out. She steps under the sunshade, grabbing for a towel. Hercules leaves as soon as she touches the shadow, stepping out into the sun. He goes around behind Poseidon and sits on a pool chair, scowling.

“It’s a shame those two don’t get along.”

Brigit laughs. “I think it might be better this way. We don’t want them to get along too well.”

Hades has taken a pool chair under the sunshade, and Daisy swings her towel at him until he snatches it out of the air. Persephone emerges from the house with Ashley.

“They’re cousins.”

Brigit scrunches up her nose. “Not really. And plus, they’ve always been interested in each other.”

I glance between Daisy and Hercules, who are not paying any attention to each other whatsoever. “They are not. I used to run the city’s best whorehouse. I would know.”

“You’re so cute as a dad.” Brigit leans into me. “So sweet. So clueless.”

I tip her face toward mine. “Clueless? I met you in that whorehouse. I left it behind for you. I know things.”

“Mm-hmm.”

I don’t care if she thinks I’m clueless. Let her. “Are you going to swim?”

Brigit grins, her eyes lighting up. “I already have my bikini on under this.”

“Show me.” I have the hem of her cover-up halfway up her thighs before she stops me. “You can’t be serious, little bird. Take off the dress. Then take off the rest, too.”

“We are on the balcony.” I sweep her off her feet and take her through the bedroom doors, kicking them shut behind me. “Zeus, our friends will be here any minute. Zeus, we—”

I strip the cover-up over her head to reveal her bikini. “Fuck, Brigit. How did you expect me to survive this all afternoon? Take it off.”

“We don’t have time. People are going to be here, and—”

“Then fuck me fast.”

“They might hear.”

I slide my hand over her mouth. “Problem solved. Hurry, Brigit, the party’s about to start.”

CHAPTER TWO

BRIGIT

IT’S my favorite day of the year.

The pool party started as a joke that quickly turned serious. It was just us the first year. Poseidon sailed in and all of us spent the day swimming and floating and eating. Cook sent out tray after tray of food and snacks. He sent coolers full of popsicles. When the sun set, he sent stacks of blankets, and all the kids slept in the living room.

There are even more children now, though some of them are in college now. Ares and Apollo come back for family dinners and visits and, yes, pool parties. Hades has friends with children of their own who go to school with Daisy and Artemis. We’re all friends after so many years, I suppose. The party expanded to include them, too. It’s a close circle. A family.

I know it’s only temporary.

I blinked and Calliope was seven. One more blink, and she’ll be fifteen. One blink after that…

Persephone comes to my side, a drink in her hand, and sighs happily. We stand a few yards back from the pool. Patio lights come on one by one as the sun sinks. “It’s good,” Persephone says. “Isn’t it?”

“It’s my favorite day.”

“Better than Christmas?”

“It’s so cold at Christmas.”

“Oh, I know. We should go to the island this year.”

“We should.” But it’s not Christmastime yet. The rest of the summer stretches out ahead of us. “Hey, listen. When the others got here—”

“Nobody noticed you were gone.” Persephone’s eyes are bright, the corner of her mouth quirking with a smile. “Very cute bikini, by the way.”

My face heats up. Over fifteen years with Zeus, and I still turn beet red at the drop of a hat. “How did we get so lucky?”

“It wasn’t luck.” Persephone’s expression turns faux-serious. “It was fate.”

I look across the pool, where Zeus is standing with Hades and two of their friends from the city. Their wives stand nearby with Ashley, heads close together, chatting. My husband is telling a story. I can’t hear the words, but I can feel it. Light and happy. The subtlest warmth in the air. “Do you think they’ll ever go gray?”

Poseidon sprints across the patio and does a cannonball into the deep end. The younger children scream, and then he’s in the center of a splash battle.

Persephone laughs. “No. Probably not.”

Daisy and Artemis perch on the edge of the hot tub, dangling their feet in. The other girls take turns joining the conversation, hopping up every so often to get drinks or food or towels.

The boys have staked out an area across the pool. Ares, Apollo, and Hercules play cards with Mason Hill’s oldest son. Ares seems absorbed, like it’s a life-or-death battle instead of poker. Apollo smiles. He’s a charmer, like Zeus.

But Hercules is staring.

Not at the cards. At Daisy, in the hot tub.

I hold my breath.

I can see his face in the glow from the pool. In the warm lights blinking to life all around the patio. His expression is stone-cold. Jaw set. The tension runs down through his body. Hercules holds his cards in a light, casual grip, but nothing about the way he holds himself is casual.

That carved-from-marble expression hides hunger and longing. They’re palpable.

I know what he’s like. He could be across the patio in a few long strides, confronting her. Confronting himself.

“Hercules,” Apollo says. “It’s you.”

He blinks, looking down at the cards. Then he tosses one down on the table and reaches for a can of pop.

I let out the breath I’ve been holding.

“Is something up?” Persephone’s silver eyes meet mine, concerned. “That was a heavy sigh.”

Did she notice Hercules staring? I don’t think so.

“I’m just glad the school year is over. It makes the days go by so fast. I turn around and it feels like months have just disappeared.”

She takes my hand and squeezes. “I know what you mean.”

My heart aches for her. Persephone loves the big parties we have. She loves family dinners and the vacations we take to the island and the way the kids squabble with each other and make up at the end of the day. Daisy’s her only child. There hasn’t been another baby to postpone the inevitable empty nest.

But my heart also aches for Hercules.

He can’t have what he wants. He’s my son, and I love him. But I also know that it’s probably for the best if he and Daisy don’t get together.

It’s impossible to predict what the fallout might be.

My husband is close with both his brothers. It wasn’t always a pleasant closeness. Their childhood bonded them, but that bond didn’t soften their rough edges. They had no one else to rescue them and no one else to fight with. No one else to love. No one else to hate.

So when they fought, they fought like brothers. Vicious. No holds barred. Knowing every possible weak spot. Going after every single one.

Things are different now, obviously. Still, if Hercules and Daisy got closer?

It’s anyone’s guess.

Hades tries to pretend he’s not constantly worried about his daughter. And Zeus would go to bat for any of his children. I would never call Daisy fragile, but she’ll always have to be more careful than the average girl. And Hercules…

Hercules is rough. The few details he’s given us about his past have suggested a childhood on par with Hades’s or worse. His juvenile record was about a mile long before he came to us in the spring.

We enrolled him at Pembroke, where he scowled at the tutors we hired. There were only a few months left in the school year. With the time he’d spent in juvie and on the streets, nobody expected him to be up to speed with academics.

One Friday, after four weeks of constant death glares, he came home and dropped a folder on the table. “Fire those people,” he snapped. “I’m not stupid.”

I opened the folder. It was page after page of test results. Every one of them declared his performance appropriate for grade level.

When I looked up from the pages, I caught a flash of fear in his eyes. It was a certain fear. He was braced for me to kick him to the curb, I’m sure. It took him another month after that to let his shoulders down.

“I know you’re not,” I said. “I’ll send an email tonight.”

He clenched his jaw. Several long seconds ticked by. “That’s it?”

“No.” I smiled at him, even while my heart broke at how defensive he was, how hurt, and how hard he tried to hide it. “Do you want some pizza rolls?”

Hercules folded his arms in front of him like I’d asked him to fight. “What, now?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t care about dinner?”

Ares and Apollo were supposed to come that night. Hades and Persephone and Daisy. Poseidon’s ship was due to dock any second. The house was going to be full of people, and Hercules was sure I’d be more concerned about that.

“No. I care about you.” I turned away and tapped at the keypad on the oven. While it started to preheat, I went to the freezer and pulled out the bag of pizza rolls. Hercules watched while I took a big baking sheet from one of the drawers, ripped open the bag, and let all fifty pizza rolls fall onto the tray.

I tapped out the email to his tutors while the time ticked down on the oven. When it beeped, I looked up from my phone to find Hercules holding out a can of root beer to me.

“How’d you know I wanted this?” He didn’t smile back when I grinned at him. Not quite. But his eyes softened, just a little.

I let all the pizza rolls slide onto a serving tray and put the tray in the center of the kitchen island. Then I took the seat across from him. Then we ate pizza rolls together in silence.

Across the patio, Hades laughs, choking on his drink. At the card game, Hercules laughs, too, the sound short and unpracticed. “Do you really think you can defeat me?” Poseidon shouts, heaving Orion into the water. Calliope tiptoes toward the hot tub, her face lighting up when Artemis pats the spot next to her.

“This is such a happy ending,” Persephone says. “Let’s go be part of it.”

“Let’s.” I loop my arm through hers, ignoring the pang of worry that this is all going to be over too soon. Happy endings might not last forever. But if nothing else, we’ll have tonight.

Thank you so much for reading FATE STEPS IN! To read more about Hercules and Daisy, check out their intense, angsty romance in HERO WORSHIP! Or meet the broken billionaire Hades along with his brothers Zeus and Poseidon in KING OF SHADOWS!

About the Author

Amelia Wilde is a USA TODAY bestselling author of steamy contemporary romance and loves it a little too much. She lives in Michigan with her husband and daughters. She spends most of her time typing furiously on an iPad and appreciating the natural splendor of her home state from where she likes it best: inside.

To learn more about her books, visit her online at https://www.awilderomance.com.

CATCH AND RELEASE

AMIE KNIGHT

CHAPTER ONE

“FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE, move over, Harmony. I think I’m sitting on an anthill,” I ordered my sister, shoving her body with my own as best I could under the circumstances.

And the circumstances were complete shit, considering a little over two hours ago Harmony and I had asked our parents to chain us to the oldest tree in the oldest park in the smallest town of Abbeville, South Carolina.

And now I had literal ants in my pants and couldn’t even move because the chain was doing its job a little too well.

I squirmed against the tree while Harmony attempted to scooch over.

Her efforts were futile. “Crap, Luna. I can’t move at all.” She poked her bottom lip out. “Looks like Mom and Dad did too good of a job this time.”

Just as I was about to attempt to slide my hand down and hopefully into the back pocket of my denim bell bottoms to give my parents a call for help a familiar form started walking across the park toward Harmony and me.

So instead of wiggling and jiggling for relief like I wanted to, I put on a stoic face and straightened my back, prepared for a fight.

Approximately ten seconds later, Clint stood in front of us, clad in his usual orange hard hat, dirty jeans, and a black t-shirt. “You girls have to be fucking shitting me,” he growled, shaking his head and roughly rubbing at the scruff on his weathered face.

“We aren’t shitting anything,” Harmony fired back. “You aren’t cutting this tree down today, Clint. I’ll die first.”

He rolled his eyes and whispered, “Now they talking about me fucking killing them. Fucking ridiculous.”

I held in a giggle. My poor sister. Her heart was good and always in the right place, but she most definitely wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed.

And Clint. He was used to our family’s hippie antics. He looked around the park that was already half demolished and flattened and then glared back at us. “You ladies know how this is gonna go. I have a lot to get done today. And I don’t have time for the usual bullshit.” He stopped to give me a pointed look. “I’m gonna have to put in a call, Luna,” he threatened, before turning and heading back in the direction that he’d come from.

Shit. I squirmed against the tree. And it didn’t have a damn thing to do with the ants in my pants. He was putting in a call. That was never a good thing for me.

“Fuck,” Harmony breathed next to me. “He’s putting in a call, Loons. That means we’re done.” She looked around the park before looking up into the branches of the big oak that hung over us. “And so is our tree.”

I let out a sigh before blowing my long blonde hair out of my face and turning to my older sister. Her blue eyes collided with mine. We looked almost too much alike. So much so, that people often mistook us for twins. ‘It’s okay, honey,” I said, trying to console her but my heart wasn’t in it.

I leaned my head back against the tree and looked up. I told myself that this wasn’t the first time I’d lost a fight and it definitely wouldn’t be the last. I took one last long look around the park that had been here since before my thirty-year-old self was even born. Way before, in fact. But the town had voted and unfortunately what was left of the old park would be gone in a day or two and in a few more months a hotel would stand here instead. Mostly all that was left was this old tree and a decrepit merry-go-round fifty feet away.

It sucked but it wasn’t the end of the world and it damn sure wouldn’t stop me from fighting the good fight.

“That didn’t take long at all.” I heard Harmony mumble from beside me. My head snapped down and my eyes immediately landed on the big, dark-haired man heading right for us.

Well, shit.

CHAPTER TWO

MY HEART KICKED up a notch even as I swallowed hard at the sight before me. I felt a bead of sweat roll down my back between my shoulder blades and the ants in my pants were long forgotten.

There he was in all of his beautiful, horrible existence coming right for me. My gaze ate him up, starting at his black shoes and then straight up to his tight black pants that were incredibly and indecently snug across his muscular thighs.

I felt my mouth flood with saliva at the sight of his trim waist and black Abbeville Police Department uniform shirt. I could see the tic in his scruffy jaw as he drew closer and his dark as night eyes landed on mine.

“Oh, shit,” I whispered to Harmony just as his well-over-six-foot self came to stand right in front of us.

Oh, shit was right.

And don’t think for a second I didn’t notice the giant bolt cutter in his right hand and the absolute arrogance emanating from his black eyes.

He stood there, legs spread, and looked back and forth between the two of us. His skin was tan and gorgeous, the morning sun glinting off his lush, thick, almost black hair. Jaw square. Nose straight and hard. The thickest eyelashes I’d ever seen. He looked good enough to eat.

The gorgeous bastard.

I stared up at him, dumbfounded, as he ran a hand through that ridiculously beautiful hair and said, “Well, girls. What’s it gonna be today? The easy way or the hard w—”

“The hard way,” my mouth blurted before my mind could tell me to shut the fuck up.

My damn mouth. It had written many a checks that it couldn’t possibly cash.

Before I could even attempt to take my words back, sexy-as-hell pain-in-my-ass Abbeville PD was leaning over and snapping our chain in half.

And my sister, my gullible naïve sister, was praying to sweet baby Jesus. “Lord help her.” I heard as a masculine, woodsy smell overtook my senses, making me plain dumb.

As the chain fell away from our bodies, he leaned back and ordered, “Get up.”

I squinted up at him, the sun shadowing half of his face. “You’re not my dad, Officer Pierce.”

See, dumb.

And I realized exactly how dumb when I saw his eyes flash hot and angry down at me.

“Have it your way,” he barked before leaning down and grabbing me under my arms. And before I knew what was happening, I was up and over his shoulder, my ants-covered ass in the air, my face buried in his divine-smelling stupid back.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I screamed at the top of my lungs but no one was there to hear me, except my sister.

So I turned my head over as far as I could until I could catch a glimpse of my sister holding her hand to her ear and whisper-yelling, “Call me later.”

A lot of help she was, so I stuck my tongue out at her before letting my body go slack against the officer’s. Because there was no way in hell my five-foot-one ass was going to win against this behemoth of a man.

About ten seconds later, I felt his gait slow and then heard him open a car door and then all of a sudden a big hand came down hard across my ass, shocking the hell out of me.

“You’ve been a bad girl today, Luna,” he growled before unceremoniously chucking my tiny ass into the back of a police cruiser and slamming the door.

Shame and something more burned through me.

What a freaking asshole.

CHAPTER THREE

“THIS ISN’T THE STATION,” I sang from the back seat, my forehead pressed to the bars between the back and front of the car that separated me and copper. I’d spent the better part of our ten-minute drive trying to annoy the shit out of him to no avail. I was pretty sure the only thing I’d managed to do was give myself one hell of a headache. The man was a damn rock.

I looked at the house in front of us. No, we definitely weren’t at the station, and trust me, I’d been there enough times to know.

Officer Asshole slid out of his seat and came around the back, opened the door, and stood there. “Out,” he commanded.

But I just shook my head and gave my nails a good shine against my tie-dye shirt before studying them like I went to school for that shit. “Nah, I think I’m good.”

And before I knew what was happening, he was leaning in and I was up and over his shoulder again.

It was a position that I was oddly becoming used to.

He breezed across the yard and right up to the front door before he reached into his pocket with his free hand, grabbed his keys, and unlocked the house. He pushed the door open and stepped inside before kicking the door closed. Hard.

That was when I knew. I was in big, big trouble.

But trouble was my middle name. So while his long legs made their way up a flight of steps, I tried to bite the fat on his back.

But the sexiest butthole alive didn’t have an ounce of fat on him so all I managed to do was close my teeth around a tiny bit of skin. That only resulted in him giving a growl that I somehow felt right between my legs.

Fucking great.

CHAPTER FOUR

I LANDED on a large bed with an “Oomph.” And somehow during the transition from over his shoulder on to my back, I’d lost my colorful t-shirt.

And since your girl was firmly a member of the itty-bitty-titty committee and the free ya girls movement, I was very, very naked from the waist up.

I told myself that my nipples hardened because of the cool air and not his intent gaze so I made to cover those bad boys with my hands but he was down and on top of me before I could.

He pushed my arms up and over my head and brought his face close to mine, his nose brushing the tip of my own, his eyes hard and hot.

Cradling my wrists up by the headboard in one of his large hands he asked, “I’m not your dad, huh?”

“Huh?” I breathed between us, confused, completely overwhelmed by his sheer size. Never mind, his warm body pressed between my jean-covered thighs or the scent of his minty breath mere inches from my lips.

If I thought I was dumb before, I had absolutely nothing on this moment. I was in a complete stupor.

I heard the clang of metal before I felt it around my wrist, and as quick as lightning, I realized I was handcuffed to the metal headboard. I jerked my hand, praying and hoping that I was imagining damn things but nope, it was firmly locked to the headboard and my assailant and kidnapper moved up my body until he was straddling my stomach, kneeling all around me.

“I said, I’m not your dad, huh?” His big, tanned hands covered my nipples before giving them a hard pinch.

I sucked in a breath, shocked, and turned on beyond belief. “Listen, Aa—” I started but he quickly cut me off.

“Eh eh eh,” he said, rolling my nipples between his fingers, hovering over me, fully clothed while I lay beneath him completely at his mercy.

And I knew what he wanted so I gave it to him. “Listen, Officer Pie—” I started again but this time he squeezed my pink tips between his fingers and thumbs so hard that I arched my back and pressed my head into the mattress, letting my eyes fall closed on a long moan.

“Daddy,” he corrected.

My eyes flew open and my head shot up. Well, as much as it could with me handcuffed to the headboard and a giant man practically sitting on my stomach. “I am not calling you daddy! Are you insane?”

His hard mouth hitched just barely on one side and I knew he only found me entertaining. “We’ll see about that.”

Then the cocky bastard gave me one final pinch before pulling his hands away, slowly unbuttoning his shirt.

And of course, I watched like the maniac I was because who wouldn’t? He was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen and I didn’t want to miss a second of him exposing his smooth tanned, muscled body to my eyes. He pulled the last button through on his shirt but didn’t take it completely off before moving down to unfasten his pants

My mouth watered as he undid them and pushed his hand inside of his dark underwear before pulling out his long, thick cock.

He stroked it right there. Right in front of me and I felt myself get warm all over at the sight. It was just right. God, he had a perfect cock. And I wanted to taste it more than anything in my entire life.

And the bastard knew it, so he walked his knees up my body until he was straddling my chest, finally, and I moved my head forward but still, he was too far away.

I whimpered and he chuckled low.

God, I hated him and wanted him so much at that moment.

So I watched as he used his thumb to collect the moisture right at the tip of his cock before bringing it to my mouth where he rubbed the pad of it along my bottom lip. “Why don’t you tell Daddy how much you want to taste me?” he growled as I sucked his thumb into my mouth.

He tasted like I knew he would and I felt almost drunk on him but I still wasn’t drunk enough to call him Daddy, so I made sure to give his thumb a hard bite before releasing it with a pop.

He grinned down at me and leaned forward, rubbing the head of his cock all over my lips where I lapped at it greedily. Still, he wasn’t close enough for me to suck him deep like I wanted and it was driving me crazy.

He was driving me crazy and he fucking knew it.

“Fuck,” he growled as he rubbed himself all over my lips and I knew I was getting to him, too.

“Fuck my mouth, Officer,” I begged.

He moved back and stared down at me again. “Daddy. Fuck my mouth, Daddy, is what you meant to say.”

I barked out a sarcastic laugh. “No, it definitely wasn’t.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, moving down my body and taking my jeans and underwear along with him until he was between my legs.

Pushing my thighs wide, he admired the space between them while I blushed down to the tips of my toes. Here I was fully naked, handcuffed to a damn bed, and the man was still almost fully dressed with only his abs and cock hanging out.

It was so bad. So naughty. And yet so, so good.

“You’ve been so bad today, Luna,” he said low as he ran a single finger down my slit, starting at my clit and ending at my opening.

I trembled, wanting to beg him for more. I wanted to plead with him to use his fingers, his mouth, his beautiful, perfect cock but I didn’t dare. Because he’d made his stipulations clear and I’d be damned if I was calling the brat Daddy.

“I don’t know if you deserve my mouth,” he said, almost like he was talking to himself. Debating on what he would give me, it made me all the more hotter. “But I do love your taste and I don’t want to punish myself,” he finished, sliding one thick finger inside of me and pumping it hard.

I ground down on that digit shamelessly.

“That’s right, baby. Fuck Daddy’s finger.” His deep voice slid over me like hot syrup on biscuits.

I glared up at him but kept right on going because I couldn’t have stopped if I wanted to and the asshole knew it.

And I was soaking wet. So wet, I could feel it running down my backside.

“Maybe just a taste,” he groaned, and then his face was there between my legs and I used my free hand to grab that gorgeous hair so that I could ride his face.

And I did. I so did. He licked me clean all the way up my slit before sucking my nub hard and making sure to slip two fingers inside of me this time.

“Oh, God,” I cried loudly into the room.

He tongued my clit quickly one time before stopping and looking up at me from between my legs. “Not God, baby. Just your Daddy.” He smirked.

And I wanted to knee him in the face, but instead, I pushed him back into my pussy where the mofo belonged.

But the tease would only eat me and fuck me with his fingers until I was close to the brink and then he would stop every time.

Up and down he’d take me, relentlessly torturing me.

“Please,” I cried out finally, near tears. I needed to come more than I needed anything in my life.

“Please, what?” he asked, kneeling between my legs with a shit-eating grin.

“Please, now,” I responded with my own shit-eating grin because fuck him. He was not my dad!

I felt a hard slap against my clit that had me screaming out so loud, I hoped the neighbors didn’t call more cops. And then all of a sudden, I was flipped over onto my stomach and rough hands jerked my ass into the air until I was on my knees.

Oh, God, he was going to give it to me. He was going to give it to me so good.

But instead, he stopped and got really quiet. So, I looked over my shoulder to find him studying my ass cheeks intently.

“Did you sit in another ant pile?” he asked angrily. “I should spank your ass for this.”

But he didn’t spank my ass even though I was more than ready for it.

It was a shame, really.

Instead, he leaned over giving each itchy bite an open-mouthed kiss before tonguing them and driving me mad.

It itched. It felt like fire. It felt so good. I was going to die. “Please, Officer. Please fuck me,” I begged. I was throbbing with need.

“Then, say it,” he said against the skin of my ass cheek, giving it a bite and sliding his fingers along my wet core. “Just, say it. And I’ll give you everything you want.” He pressed kisses along my ass and up my spine until he was leaned over me and his cock was pressed to my wetness. “Come on, Luna. Give us what we both want,” he ground out through clenched teeth as he rubbed his cock against my opening.

And I couldn’t hold back any longer. I pressed into him. And the feeling of his head barely inside of me pushed me over the edge, making me more than stupid and dumb together.

And I gave in like the wimp I was. “Please, Daddy. Please fuck me. Right now!” I ordered and not a second later, he slid home on a long groan that had me burying my face in the blankets and biting them to keep from crying out.

“That’s where I’m supposed to be. Right in this tight, wet cunt.” He pounded into me, the sounds of our sex loud and obscene.

It wasn’t long before I was crying out, fireworks exploding behind my eyelids, my core tightening around his cock, milking him.

“Fuck, yes!” he yelled, his seed pouring into me, filling me up, and then his body fell on top of me, all slack and satisfied.

His body was warm over mine and it felt so good. And I was so very absolutely content that it lulled me right into a deep sleep.

CHAPTER FIVE

THE CREAKING of what sounded like the front door opening had my eyes flying open with the quickness. I noticed the early evening sun coming through the window. Shit, I’d fallen asleep. I tried to sit up quickly but soon realized that I was indeed still handcuffed to the bed. I looked around in a panic as footsteps came down the hallway outside of the room I was in. I heard the shower running in the bedroom I was in and knew I was completely fucked.

Because Officer Ass Face was in the shower and I was still restrained to his bed and to make matters worse someone was in the house. At least he’d had the decency to cover me up before leaving me.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I mumbled, trying to use the pillows and covers to hide the handcuffs and my stark nakedness but it was all in vain.

Because I’d missed the tiny person entering the room who was now standing next to the bed staring at me.

I stared back because what the hell was I going to do now?

I gave her big eyes.

She gave me big eyes.

“Mommyyyyy,” she sang. “Were you and Daddy playing Cops and Robbers again?” She looked accusingly toward the pillow that was covering my handcuffs and I knew I’d been caught.

I used my free hand to give Lilah’s small belly a little tickle. “We sure were. You caught me,” I admitted, smiling at my sweet girl.

“Oh my God, Mom. You cannot be serious. When is this going to stop?” I heard and looked toward the bedroom doorway where my sixteen-year-old angel girl was standing, clearly judging the hell out of me.

“How was Nana’s?” I asked her, ignoring the gagging face she was making.

“It was fine,” Layla said before fleeing the room like she couldn’t stand to look at me one second longer. And who could blame her? I was naked and handcuffed to my bed in the middle of the damn evening.

I couldn’t help but snicker. Teenagers were so dramatic. It was just a little kinky sex with the man of my dreams.

Speaking of the man of my dreams, the bathroom door opened, and in sauntered Officer Aaron Pierce in nothing but a towel around his waist, a grin on his smart mouth. He looked amazing and I debated calling my mom and begging her to come get these kids again, but this time for the night.

Damn him.

“Hey, baby girl,” he said to our five-year-old, picking her up and holding her high in the air before kissing both of her sweet cheeks.

But she wasn’t nearly as impressed with him as I was. “Y’all played Cops and Robbers without me, Daddy,” she accused.

I noticed his pink cheeks and held in a giggle.

“Aw, baby,” he said, setting her down and giving her blonde hair a ruffle. “Why don’t we play now? Why don’t you go hide and I’ll come find you?”

She narrowed her eyes, debating whether to forgive him before she finally grinned and agreed, “Fine, but make sure to count to one hundred.” She turned and started toward the door but stopped on her way out to add, “And no cheating this time.”

He crossed his heart at her and she flew from the room and he headed toward me.

“I can’t believe you left me handcuffed to this bed,” I said, laying back with a sigh.

“You were sleeping so good. I didn’t want to wake you.” He pulled on some boxers before sitting on the bed next to me.

He leaned over my body and I heard the click on the handcuffs unlocking as he placed a kiss to my lips and with his nose pressed to mine he said, “I just got a call that they still haven’t torn that tree down.”

I smiled big up at him. “Well, then move the hell out of my way, big guy. I got shit to do.”

I wrestled my way out from underneath him, found my clothes that had been thrown on the floor, and put them on swiftly before turning to him. “You’ll feed the kids dinner?”

“You know it,” he answered, pulling on a pair of comfy pants that made me want to put my pajamas on and stay home with my family, too.

But I had to at least try. So, instead, I pushed up on my tiptoes, placed a kiss on my man’s lips, and whispered, “Thank you for understanding.”

He smiled as I slipped my feet into my Birkenstocks.

“You know I’m never going to change, right?” I asked, leaving the room as he followed. I always told him this because we spent a huge amount of time on opposite sides of the law.

He rolled his eyes and grinned. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And I knew with my whole heart that he meant it.

About the Author

Amie Knight has been a reader for as long as she could remember and a romance lover since she could get her hands on her momma’s books. A dedicated wife and mother with a love of music and makeup, she won’t ever be seen leaving the house without her eyebrows and eyelashes done just right. When she isn’t reading and writing, you can catch her jamming out in the car with her two kids to ’90s R&B, country, and showtunes. Amie draws inspiration from her childhood in Columbia, South Carolina, and can’t imagine living anywhere other than the South.

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A WOMAN’S RIGHT TO LIVE AND LOVE

A HISTORICAL ROMANCE SHORT

AMY QUINTON

CHAPTER ONE

England 1861

The Road to London

JAMES CARVILLE, 7th Duke of Buckshire, rode for London as if the hounds of hell were on his heels, his mind filled with worry and more than a little dread. Not for the state of his soul, though some would suggest he should be otherwise concerned.

No, this morning, his sister Hester dominated his thoughts.

Her babe was set to arrive far earlier than it should. Too early.

Damn the physician who’d ignored Hester’s complaints, discounting her concerns with a patronizing tone and undisguised disbelief. If Hester died, James wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet through the blackguard’s heart. Though his brother-in-law would likely beat him to it, and rightly so.

As the miles raced beneath his horse’s hooves, James contemplated life, Hester, death, mistakes, the future, and the monumental task that lay before him, which only served to increase his concern; for he’d made many blunders in his life, but none so egregious as those he’d made against Lady Olivia Merriweather… the very woman he rode like a madman to see.

Once the love of his life, Lady Olivia now found his presence intolerable, deservedly so.

As such, he hadn’t exchanged more than a handful of words with her since their very public estrangement…two years, three months, and fourteen days ago, if one were counting.

Which he was.

For he’d missed her every damn day they’d been apart.

He’d be lucky if she let him through the door, much less hear him out—much the same as every other time he’d tried to see her over the years…too many times to count. Regrettably, he deserved her ire and more. And if she refused to return with him, he couldn’t much blame her, another fault to lay at his feet. This time, a potentially deadly one.

Yes, recruiting Olivia’s help was a long shot. But she was, quite literally, his only hope. Or more importantly, his sister’s only hope.

Despite the harsh words she’d likely toss his way in a matter of minutes, James was looking forward to seeing her again and wasn’t that a remarkable sign of how very much he held her in high regard?

James blew out a harsh breath and willed away his worries. Now wasn’t the time for doubts….

Aye, it was time to seek out his wife.

TWO HOURS LATER, James learned his Olivia wasn’t in her office; nor her townhouse. It seemed she’d spent the entire night sitting with a patient.

He tried his best to suppress his mounting concern as he raced through the city streets of London and into St. Giles without slowing. It was approaching noon, the danger would be minimal in such questionable environs.

His heart raced as he thought of his wife in the stews all night long. Why did she have to be so bloody careless with her person?

He really shouldn’t be surprised. It wasn’t the first time she’d done the like… such a lack of concern for her own safety had been the subject of numerous arguments between them before she’d walked out of his life. Why would she change?

Oddly enough, it was the very traits that drove her to behave so recklessly that he admired in her, which he knew was ludicrous on his part, but no less true.

Ten minutes later, James approached a dark and narrow alley. He heard her before he saw her. Her voice was unmistakable and, oh, so dear.

Still, he wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted him when he turned into the alley. For she stood in the middle of the street, arguing with a big brute of a man…an irate bruiser, at that, while brandishing a bloody knife. She literally stood there, legs braced and waved the knife in the air in the direction of her adversary.

Bloody hell. She was going to get herself killed.

Worse, a crowd had begun to gather.

Olivia had her back to him, and the man she faced looked ready to murder her in the street. James wasted no further time. He leapt from his horse as her voice rang out. “You need to find some suitable contraception or keep your damn hands off her!”

“She’s me wife!” the man yelled back.

“And she nearly died this night. You must understand she won’t survive another pregnancy.”

If he weren’t so terrified, he’d laugh at the idea of his wife lecturing another man on the use of contraceptives.

“I have me rights…”

“Aye, and eight children who need their mother to live.”

The man growled and looked prepared to lunge. James, slowed by the gathering crowd began pushing his way, “Move, damn you!” he yelled. He was nearly through the throng, when another man stepped into his path, a gun, steady and sure, aimed at him.

James drew to a stop, eyes narrowed. “You better know how to use that because if that man takes another step toward her, you’re going to have to shoot me to stop me.”

James ignored Olivia’s gasp of surprise.

The man’s lips twitched into a half smile, and he dipped his head, but he kept his gun trained on James. “Hold steady, your lordship.”

“Who are you?”

The man shook his head. “I’m the man asking the questions here.”

At that moment, Olivia, her back still facing him, finally spoke up. “It’s all right, Frank. Stand down.”

Frank eyed James carefully a moment more before dipping his head once and lowering his weapon, only to point it at the bruiser with the apparently out-of-control pecker. Frank nodded to James. “You know this man, Olivia?”

With a sigh, Olivia finally turned about and faced James.

Despite everything, he hadn’t been prepared for the sight of her. His soul screamed – finally! And he clenched his hands into fists, lest he reach for her and pull her into his arms. God knows, she wouldn’t appreciate that.

But damn, she was breathtaking—despite the obvious exhaustion from a long night tending to a patient. Her hair was half fallen, her clothes wrinkled and in wild disarray, and a smudge of dirt marred her right cheek. Yet he’d never seen anything quite so beautiful or desirable.

In that moment, he would have given anything to hold her. To erase the past. To start over. And, God, did his heart ache to know he no longer had that right.

Olivia gave the knife in her hand a considering look and a diabolic grin chased the frown from her face, which had him squirming to pull at his cravat. He refrained. Just.

“Yes, I know him.” Her tone of voice suggested she wished she didn’t. “Frank, this is His Grace, James Carville. The Duke of Buckshire.” She sighed, then added, “And my husband.”

Frank was clearly surprised by this revelation followed by a look that had James ready to tear the man apart with his bare hands.

As if she knew his thoughts, Olivia smirked. “Your Grace, Mr. Frank Reeves, a friend.” Her voice softened on the word friend, and James felt his heart crack the tiniest bit.

Frank raised one brow and looked James up and down. James returned the favor. When Frank spoke, he addressed Olivia. “You’re married?”

Olivia lifted one shoulder. “Eh. No body’s perfect.”

James forced a biting smile. “Good morning…wife.”

CHAPTER TWO

AS FRANK DISPERSED the gathered crowd and took care of the irate ‘new father’, Olivia’s mind turned to less productive matters.

But gracious. Why did her husband have to look so…delicious?

He’d clearly ridden hard for some time, judging by the state of his clothes, which were muddy and disheveled, and still he looked heartbreakingly magnificent. Virile, even. Perhaps, a touch arrogant, but in all, perfect.

He hadn’t changed in—how long had it been? She couldn’t quite recall, but more than a year, surely, and still he looked as good as the day she’d married him.

With a start, Olivia slammed the door on her errant, misbehaving thoughts—she really didn’t have time for…whatever this was. Shoving aside her inadvisable curiosity, she gave James a curt nod, and with a tone laden with sarcasm, said, “Your timing, as always, is impeccable, but as you can see, I’m incredibly busy. You’ll have to crawl back into whatever hole you crawled out of on your own, Duke.”

She didn’t wait for his response, simply turned on her heel and marched back to her patient’s home.

Surprisingly, his low chuckle trailed her, and she nearly tripped as the sound skated down her spine, leaving a trail of shivering heat in its wake.

The James she knew would have started an argument, not saw the humor in her biting words. Why—

No. No whys. She didn’t need to know. Olivia squared her shoulders and entered her patient’s home.

The fact that James followed close on her heels was inescapable; she felt his presence deep in the heart of her where she kept her secrets good and buried, and she itched to slam the door in his face. To show him nothing had changed.

Alas, she curbed her impulse. Her patient, Mary, nearly died giving birth last night, and an argument between Olivia and James might unnecessarily upset the poor woman, putting Mary’s life at further risk.

Unfortunately, ignoring over six feet of masculine virility was a difficult prospect, even at the best of times…

But not impossible.

Olivia pulled on her full last reserves of strength and faced her patient.

Mary’s home was low ceilinged and cramped and made up of only one room. The lone bed (only one despite having a brood of seven, now eight children) stood in the far corner, and Olivia washed up before approaching her patient, leaving the knife she’d been carrying on the washstand. She sensed James take up position against the wall somewhere behind her. She grit her teeth as she fought not to turn and look.

Mary, weak as the newborn fast asleep next to her, opened her eyes, just as Olivia settled beside her on the edge of the bed. The young woman’s lips trembled as she attempted a smile, and Olivia reached for Mary’s free hand. “You did well, Mary. You did very well, indeed. You can rest now, my dear.”

Mary’s reply was barely a whisper. “B-bart?”

Bart was Mary’s husband. “He won’t bother you anymore today. And in future, we’ll make sure he employs the appropriate methods to prevent conception.”

Mary shook her head, growing agitated, and Olivia worried the woman would injure herself further. She faced a long recovery.

Despite that, Mary’s grip was surprisingly strong when she squeezed Olivia’s hand. “I n-need someth— to—”

“Shhhh… it’s okay. I know what it is you seek.”

Mary began shaking her head. “H-he won’t do it.”

“It’s all right, Mary. We have alternatives. I have the female pills.”

Which did nothing to comfort the woman as she still shook her head.

Olivia rubbed the back of Mary’s hand. “If it comes down to it, I’ll perform the operation. You needn’t worry. Rest now, my dear. You need your sleep. The babe needs your sleep.”

Mary smiled down at her newborn, then sighed with obvious relief, and with a small nod, closed her eyes. She was back asleep in mere minutes.

Olivia dropped her head and drew in a deep breath. Having eight children in twelve years, all by the age of twenty-six…and being only a petite woman to begin with, had taken its toll on the poor woman. Abortion was illegal, and now, thanks to the arsehole men in government, both the abortionist and any woman seeking an abortion for herself, could be charged with a crime.

Women knew abortion was necessary and despite the new law, very common. And not just for the Mary’s of the world.

Olivia could be arrested. If something happened to Mary, Olivia could be charged with murder. Hanged even. It was a daunting prospect, no doubt.

But if an abortion could save Mary’s life, Olivia wouldn’t hesitate to perform it. Despite the risks.

“Olivia…”

James’ voice was gruff with emotion, and Olivia, too drained to stand strong against him, closed her eyes and held up her hand. “Not yet, James.”

James snorted, a familiar refrain. “It seems the time is never right…”

Ah. There was the husband she knew so well.

Olivia sighed. “If you want an argument, I’ll happily oblige, but not here…”

As she made to pass him, he gently stopped her with a touch. She was surprised to see his brow furrowed with concern. Was there true fear in his gaze.

He surprised her by asking, “Must we argue?”

She shrugged. “I suppose we must. It’s what we do, isn’t it?”

He shook his head. “Not always.” His words were low, careful. “But I didn’t come here for a fight, Olivia.”

“No?” Olivia did not know what she expected to see when she searched his face, but it was not the trace of fear she detected in his gaze, and she couldn’t stop a twinge of concern. James? Afraid?

Eventually, she nodded. “ Wait outside. All right?”

He dipped his head once and did as she bade.

While James waited outside, Olivia left instructions with her assistant for Mary’s care, then she grabbed her medical bag. Her assistant, bless her, had already cleaned and stowed away all her tools, including the knife she’d left by the washstand.

Confident Mary was in good hands, Olivia left.

James stepped away from the wall, the reins of his horse gathered in one hand, and gestured toward her bag. “May I?”

“I’ve got it, thanks.”

His horse whinnied her own greeting, and Olivia rubbed the mare’s nose in return. “Good afternoon, Artemis. I see you’re still keeping company with this bloke. He treating you well?”

Artemis nodded her head as if answering in the affirmative and James and Olivia chuckled, which was startling. And achingly familiar.

Determined to ignore the reminder, Olivia said, “Come. You can talk while we walk.”

But James didn’t follow. She’d only taken a few steps, when she turned to see why, and her heart skipped a beat at the look of deep fear that had returned to his face.

His jaw twitched as he spoke. “It’s Hester. She’s in trouble.” His voice cracked on the last word. “Her babe is early, and something is wrong—”

Olivia raced back to James and gripped his arm. “James. The doctor—please tell me she’s not seeing that ‘quack’ Timson.”

He dipped his head once.

With an unladylike curse, Olivia shoved her bag in his arms, then hitched up her skirts. “Put out your knee.”

He did so without question, and Olivia mounted Artemis in one fluid move. Once settled, she held out her arm, and James handed over the bag.

“Olivia, she’s in Sussex.”

Olivia shook her head. “I don’t care.” She pulled her foot free from the stirrup. “Let’s go…”

James mounted behind her, and they were off.

CHAPTER THREE

Rambledown Estate

Sussex

THE MOMENT they arrived at his sister’s home in Sussex, Olivia raced up the stairs, directly to Hester’s room. She ousted James’ brother-in-law, Nigel, from the birthing room the moment she crossed the threshold, and her commands hadn’t ended there. James had merely raised a brow, when Olivia followed with, “You too, James. Out.”

Hester laughed, which helped ease their worry… somewhat.

But Olivia was in his sister’s room for no more than five minutes when she’d ripped open the door and sent the servants rushing to gather supplies. Towels, hot water, and more. Then, she’d slammed the door once again, and they hadn’t seen her since.

An hour later, Nigel—hair on end, cravat askew—was a wreck…hell, they both were. Worry for the women you love tended to do that to a man. The pair of them paced the floor, Nigel’s deepening anxiety evident in the droop of his shoulders and in every line of his harsh countenance. James tried to hand the man a drink several times, thinking it would help take the edge off, and though Nigel took the tumbler in hand, he never once took a sip. Instead, he rather absentmindedly set it aside every time a noise sounded in the hall.

From what they’d managed to piece together from the few servants who occasionally raced in and out of the room on specific errands, the baby was the wrong way around and in distress. At one point, he heard Olivia demand, “I don’t care if you have to pull the sheets from his Grace’s room, just bring me more cloths.”

It was a sobering remark.

But at least, the screaming had stopped.

“I’m never going to touch her again,” Nigel swore. “It’s not worth it.”

James nodded his agreement but had nothing to add. What could he say? Childbirth was not simple by anyone’s measure and so often deadly for the mother-to-be.

“I don’t know what I’d do without Hester. I don’t work right without her.”

James understood this feeling all too well. He hadn’t worked right in over two years. Not since Olivia walked out of his life. “Our women take on so much for having so few rights afforded them.”

Nigel nodded. “Ain’t that the truth of it.”

“I only hope—”

A door opened, and the two men spun on their heels to face the open doorway. Olivia stood there, exhaustion evident, but still, she smiled. “Your wife is resting, Nigel. May I present to you, your daughter?”

Nigel broke down sobbing just then, his daughter cupped ever so gently in his arms, and James couldn’t stop the moisture from flooding his own eyes. He laid a hand of support on Nigel’s shoulder as the man sat in a chair and openly wept.

James looked to Olivia, who stood there with a serene smile on her face. God, she was remarkable.

And in that moment, James vowed to himself to do whatever it took to have her back in his life, though he would leave the ultimate choice up to her. He respected her too much to do otherwise.

Abruptly, she straightened, but when Olivia’s gaze met his, he read the utter exhaustion she could no longer hide.

Worried, he asked, “When did you last eat?”

She stifled a grimace. “Yesterday…”

“Olivia—,” When she glanced at him, she wavered on her feet, and he reached out a hand to gently steady her. “When did you last sleep?” At her sheepish look, he added, “Let me guess. Yesterday?”

She lifted her chin defiantly as if to dare him to criticize her. He wouldn’t dream of it—he’d learned his lessons well.

Unfortunately, her willful glance lasted but a moment, before her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed in his arms.

James felt a moment of panic; Olivia had never fainted in her life, but when he gently called her name, she responded with an indelicate snore, and he knew she merely slept.

With a chuckle, James swept up his exhausted wife and carried her to bed.

Moments later, James settled Olivia in his bed, and after removing everything but her shift, he crawled in beside her. She might chew his head off in the morning for it, but she needed a solid night’s sleep, so he did what he had to do.

Not that it was a hardship by any means.

He stared at the extraordinary woman in his arms while fighting valiantly against his own creeping exhaustion. He didn’t want to miss a moment of whatever time he could have with her, even if all she did was sleep. He’d been the luckiest bastard alive when he married her, and the worst bastard alive when he lost her. “My God, I love you, Olivia Carville. Sleep well, my dearest one.”

CHAPTER FOUR

THE DREAM WAS WICKEDLY DELECTABLE.

In it, her husband cupped her breast with one broad hand while he thumbed her nipple and kissed a path a fire down the side of her neck. His other hand wickedly strummed her woman’s nubbin while one long finger plunged steadily in and out, stroking her from within.

Oh, God, such sweet bliss. He’d always been a master at carnal relations.

Desperate for more, she could not hold still, and she ground against his large erection, which pressed insistently against her backside while she begged him to diddle her harder, faster.

But when James’ voice crooned, “Wake up, darling… yes, that’s it… I cannot carry on without your consent, my love,” reality came crashing down around her.

This was no dream.

Startled awake, Olivia unerringly elbowed her husband in the stomach, and he rolled away with a satisfying “Oomph,” as she gathered her bed clothes and scrambled out of bed.

She spun to face him, the sheets held up to her chest for modesty, though she still wore her shift.

A mistake. “You scoundrel—”

But the words died in her throat, for in her hasty exit, she’d managed to uncover her very naked, very aroused husband.

Her eyes were drawn directly to his formidable cock as if compelled to do so, and in that moment, she lost her entire train of thought. It had been. So. Long.

His root was ruddy and stretched and as thick as her wrist, and after a moment, it bounced once upon his stomach under her continued scrutiny.

She bit her lip, as she pondered reaching for his cock—why deny herself such a gift when they were still married?—but his overconfident chuckle broke whatever spell had left her tongue-tied and thinking such dangerous, worrisome thoughts. With frustrated reluctance, she managed to drag her eyes away.

When she met his gaze, his arrogant brow was raised in question, and suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug look from his face. “How dare you, you scoundrel…”

He shrugged. “But you asked so nicely.”

“I was asleep.”

“And wanted me.”

“Irrelevant.”

“Ollie…”

“Don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me that anymore.”

“I’m sorry, Olivia.”

What was this? An apology? She lifted her chin. “You should be.”

“I hadn’t intended to fall asleep, and things had, er, progressed before I was fully awake.”

“You shouldn’t have been in bed with me to begin with, then none of this would have happened.”

He held up both hands. “You’re right.”

His easy capitulation took the starch out of her ire.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

He seemed genuinely concerned. And to be honest, she didn’t feel violated. She’d never stopped wanting her husband—attraction had never been their problem. In fact, the bedroom was the one place where everything was always right.

Ultimately, she dipped her head.

“It won’t happen again,” he added.

She nodded again. It’s what she wanted, right?

An urgent knock at the door made her jump, and James called out. “Just a minute.”

“I apologize for the interruption, Your Grace, but I’m afraid the magistrate is here to speak to you.”

Olivia and James shared a troubled look. Considering how the trained physicians in this country were so determined to control, if not get rid of outright, female midwives—through whatever means necessary—not to mention their desperate desire to control women, the magistrate’s presence was cause for concern.

With a frown, James called out, “I’ll be down in a moment.”

Olivia began to gather her clothes. Her heart thundered in her ears, and it took her a few minutes to realize her husband had been calling her name.

“Olivia…”

When she met his gaze, his own face mirrored her concern. “Stay here. Please.”

She nodded, but she’d be damned if she did as he bade. She understood his concern—knew the way he thought—if she wasn’t ‘here,’ they couldn’t arrest her—but she wanted to hear exactly what they had to say first hand.

She wanted to know if they meant to arrest her…and why.

CHAPTER FIVE

JAMES ENTERED his brother-in-law’s study to find the local magistrate and several official looking men, hats in hand, arguing. At once the men ceased talking the moment Nigel stood to acknowledge James’ arrival, concern once more etched upon his brow.

Nigel glanced passed James, and he forced a smile in what could only be called relief.

Because Olivia isn’t with me?

“James,” Nigel began, “This man is Mr. George Shuler, our local magistrate. The other gentlemen here are from Scotland Yard.”

George Shuler was on the heavier side, and neatly turned out. His face was grim as he approached.

“Your Grace, I’m sorry to meet you under such trying circumstances.”

James decided to pretend ignorance. “Nonsense. The birth of my niece isn’t trying at all, what?”

All around him, the gentlemen shifted uncomfortably. “Yes, well. Naturally. However, that is not why we are here.”

“Oh? Yes, well go on then.”

“It seems these gentleman are here to arrest your wife.”

James congenial smile froze in place. “Ollie?”

He’d spoken only one word, but there was a wealth of meaning in his icy tone. The men, as one, noticed.

“Yes, yes, terrible business,” Mr. Shuler all but sputtered. “And I’m sure there’s been a terrible misunderstanding—”

“Quite,” James bit out.

“Ahem, yes, well, unfortunatel—”

“The charges?”

Mr. Shuler all but pulled at the collar of his shirt and a bead of sweat appeared on his brow. “She’s been accused of performing an illegal operation.”

James narrowed his eyes. “What sort of illegal operation?”

“Well, as to that, it was. Well—a feminine one.”

James raised one brow in question and folded his arms.

“An abortion. She’s accused of performing an abortion.”

“Nonsense. My wife has done no such thing. Is that all?”

“James.” This time it was Nigel who spoke up, his tone soft with regret, “She’s being charged with murder.”

Murder. The word threatened to make James break out into a cold sweat. It took every ounce of willpower to hang onto his self-control. “Preposterous. And precisely who is she meant to have murdered?”

Mr. Shuler glanced down to the official looking document in his hand. The paper in his hands shook as he held it up. “Mrs. Mary Smythe, lately of St. Giles.”

James shook his head. “That’s impossible,” he stated, but inside, his mind raced. This was bad. Very, very bad.

“I’m afraid your wife has been identified by Mrs. Smythe’s widowed husband.”

“And I’m telling you my wife did no such thing. The very idea is ludicrous.”

Mr. Shuler fidgeted with his hat as he replied. “I’m sorry, Your Grace, but my hands are tied. These men are here to take her into custody until a trial can be arranged.”

Over his dead body. “But I tell you she did not do this thing.”

“Of course, Your Grace. And I’m sure the truth will come out in the end. You shall see.”

Like hell it would. The men pressing for murder charges had an agenda. They wanted to make an example out of his wife.

Think. Think. Think. “But…my wife couldn’t possibly have done this.”

“Oh? Does your wife have an alibi?” To give the man credit, Mr. Shuler did look hopeful.

James nodded, inspired. “That she does, gentleman. You see, she couldn’t have done what your witness claimed seeing as how the late Mrs. Mary Smythe…is my patient.”

At his proclamation, all hell broke loose. The men from Scotland Yard began shouting at Mr. Shuler, but they were silenced with a heartfelt plea of “No!”

James spun at the sound of his wife’s voice. Naturally, she hadn’t heeded his command to stay in their room. He closed his eyes on a prayer as she fell into his arms.

“What are you doing, you foolish, foolish man.”

“Not now,” he whispered in her ear.

One of the men from Scotland Yard scoffed. “Come now, Your Grace. You?”

James, his wife in his arms, locked eyes with the man. “Are you calling me a liar? I’d think carefully before answering if I were you.”

The man was livid, clearly, but he held his tongue. Eventually, however, he said, “So be it. Men – arrest this man.”

“No. No. No. NO….” Olivia looked prepared to speak. To ruin everything. To avoid that happening, James risked angering her by talking over her.

“Give us a moment, gentlemen, will you?”

Mr. Shuler cut off what was clearly going to be a denial from Scotland Yard by saying, “Yes, we can do that.”

Once the men left the room, Olivia turned to him. “James, what are you doing? They could hang you.”

James shook his head as he brushed away her tears with his thumbs. “Are you crying for me, love?”

She shook her head. “Don’t be daft. I don’t cry,” she said on a sniff.

He chuckled, then sobered. “Don’t worry, love. They’re not going to hang a duke.”

“You don’t know that.”

“And I won’t have you spending a single minute behind bars. Too many people don’t survive it. Besides, I need you to find your friend Frank and figure out what happened—to clear my name. I’m counting on you, love.”

She shook her head. “But what if I fail—what if—”

He cut her off with a gentle kiss. “Oh, love, you would never fail. But even so, even if you somehow did, perish the thought—well, know this…the women in this world need you, too much. Better me than—”

“Don’t you dare finish that thought, James Carville.”

Despite the dire circumstances, he couldn’t suppress a smile and a surge of hope. “Care about me that much do you?”

“Only because if anyone is going to kill you, it’s going to be me.”

James touched his forehead to hers. “Fortunately, I don’t think it will come to that.”

CHAPTER SIX

Scotland Yard, London

IN THE END, it didn’t take Olivia long at all to prove James’ innocence. In a way, she could thank a man’s tendency to overlook the women in their world; in this instance, her assistant Jane, who had witnessed everything.

From there, it was easy to convince Mr. Smythe to admit his guilt—he’d ‘accidentally’ killed his wife by demanding she prepare his dinner the night after the difficult birth, and the woman had collapsed under the strain of it all.

Mr. Smythe even admitted to being bribed by some local physicians to accuse Lady Olivia of having performed an illegal operation on his wife in exchange for a handsome sum—which he’d promptly spent on drink.

Standing in the offices of Scotland Yard, Lady Olivia paced the floor as she waited for someone in any sort of official capacity to bring her husband out.

The lead detective on the case marched into the room, shaking his head. “Your husband admitted in front of a magistrate, and several of my men, that he performed an illegal operation on a woman, resulting in the woman’s death.”

“Actually, I didn’t.”

Goodness, the sight of her husband standing there looking slightly worse for wear left her with a profound sense of relief.

He returned her smile with one of her own, his eyes never leaving hers. “I merely stated that Mrs. Mary Smythe was my patient. Everyone else presumed all the rest.”

You clever, clever man.

With a curse, the detective tossed his papers in the air and stormed out, mumbling, “I suppose you’re free to go.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

London

Buckshire Townhouse

JAMES CARVILLE, Duke of Buckshire, had dreamed of this day for more than two long years. And finally, after many failed attempts, his wife stood across from him in the library of their Mayfair Home. It had always been her favorite room in the house. And his.

They both opened their mouths to speak at once.

And simultaneously laughed at themselves.

James dipped his head. “You first.”

“I heard your speech.”

“Speech?”

She nodded. “You spoke out admirably against the Offences Against the Person Act.”

“Fools. The lot of them.”

“It isn’t going to stop women from seeking out an abortion.”

“I know it. An unplanned pregnancy for many women would mean the difference between life and death.”

“I don’t plan to stop helping women. Women’s health care is my life.”

James nodded, proud of the fierce passion in her voice. “I know it. I never wanted you to quit helping women.”

“When you forbade me to help the women of St. Giles… it felt like you’d crushed my soul. Like you didn’t know me at all. Your ultimatums gutted me.”

He regretted every harsh word spoken that fateful day. “I was an unmitigated arse. A terrified one, but an arse all the same.”

Olivia nodded, then added, “I suppose I knew you were acting out of fear. And I did listen. I hired Frank for protection not long after.”

“I’m relieved to know it.”

“I suppose we both let pride get in the way of common sense.”

“I suppose so.”

Olivia sighed. “I suppose there’s nothing for it, but to…try again?”

For a moment, every thought flew from his mind. Then, in a tide of relief, James fell to his knees before his wife…the love of his life. “I would like that above all things, my love.”

She nodded as tears flowed freely down her cheeks, and she joined him on the floor. “Me, too, darling.”

“I love you, Lady Olivia Carville. Physician for women’s health.”

“I love you, James Carville. Keeper of my heart.”

About the Author

Amy Quinton writes humorous historicals…with heat from her home in Summerville, SC. She lives with her husband, two boys, two cats (Astrid and Toothless), and one dog (Bear). In her spare time, she likes to read, go camping, crochet/knit, read, hike—oh, who is she kidding, what spare time?

http://amyquinton.net

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ANNA MICHAEL

CHAPTER ONE

TATE

“YOU MEAN to tell me this is how you’ve been spending your Saturday nights?” Her voice is dripping in disbelief, but I’m not exactly trying to impress this woman. And I’m definitely not embarrassed about spending time with my best friends, no matter what other people may think.

I level her with the most fake smile I can summon, the one that has a knife buried in it somewhere. Then I shrug ever-so casually. “Now that you know my dirty little secret, you can quit acting like you have to babysit me and be the one to personally keep me out of trouble.”

Erica Ridley, my perpetually short-tempered assistant, laughs in my face. “You’re always in some kind of trouble. And it’s usually messy, public trouble. You absolutely do need a babysitter, and it makes the most sense for that babysitter to be me.”

I force my face back into the sharpened smile from before. “Well Miss Ridley, given your youth and relative inexperience—” I smile as her face flushes at the brazen innuendo in my words— “it seems like you might be the one who needs a babysitter.”

She coughs out a profanity, but I pretend not to notice. Instead, I raise my hand to knock on my friend Ethan’s humongous door, but it swings open right before my knuckles can connect. And without any warning at all, the best little girl in the entire world throws her body against mine with the force of a small, exuberant hurricane.

“Uncle Tate!” She wraps her arms around me and squeezes me much harder than any small child should be able to. “Daddy! It’s Uncle Tate, the most wonderful of all my uncles.”

At that pronouncement, my face melts into a warm, genuine smile. I love Katy Alexander, my best friend’s little girl, probably more than any other human being on the planet. It feels so good to be her favorite person.

Well, top three at least. Her Daddy and his new wife Zoe are definitely above me in the pecking order, but that’s only to be expected.

I love being her first choice amongst our group of poker buddies—four billionaire best friends who get together and play hands of hold ‘em for the chance to make one another do various ridiculous or humiliating tasks.

The real highlight of having poker nights at Ethan’s place is getting to spend time with my best girl, Katy. She’s made no secret about the fact that she has a bit of a crush on me, and there’s nothing that feels better to me than being someone’s special person. Especially when it’s Katy, whose love isn’t easy to earn for the rest of the world.

After years spent in the limelight with a heavily tarnished and extra cringe-worthy reputation, it means everything to me to be able to be myself here and feel accepted and loved just as I am, including by the best six-year-old kid in the world.

Ethan, Jackson, and Sebastian took me into their inner circle when I was at the lowest point of my life, and never once let me feel like anything other than family. And when little Katy got old enough to have a favorite uncle, she chose me.

My eyes flick over to my stern, no-nonsense assistant, but Erica’s purposefully giving me space to snuggle with my cutie pie Katy, and when I do finally snag Erica’s gaze, she looks oddly upset before looking away.

“Hey Katy, give me just a moment. Can you please go tell your Daddy and Zoe that I’m here to win the pot tonight?”

Katy laughs a little longer than she ought to, but she’s right about how rare of an occurrence it is for me to win the pot at our poker games. I have the lowest number of overall wins of all four of us, but it’s all for the best. I made the guys do a hilarious karaoke night in superhero costumes last time I won and the YouTube video of it has over two million views.

“Daddy, you won’t believe the funny thing that Uncle Tate just said.” She skip-runs back into the caverns of Ethan “Big Balls” Alexander’s giant mega mansion, and I’m finally able to turn my attention back to Erica, both the best and worst assistant I’ve ever had.

Her face is blank again, and it’s difficult to tell what she’s thinking. Her eyes are down on the ground but her hands are bunching up the sides of her clothing in that way that lets me know she’s deep in her feelings about something.

I reach over and cover the hand closest to me with one of my own—larger, scarred, heavily callused fingertips, and a shade of orange-tan that only comes artificially at the local tanning salon.

Fucking Jackson. He won last month’s pot and made us all get spray tans, saying it would make us look healthier or more athletic or something. Now, an entire month later, the four of us still look vaguely like extras for an Oompa Loompa photoshoot.

Gross. If he ever wants me to look like I spent more time outdoors, then I’ll have to figure out a way to actually get outdoors without getting mobbed by the paparazzi. I’m never doing the Cheeto Spray of Shame again.

“Please come on in, Miss Ridley. You’ve already met Katy, so it’s all going to be a little disappointing after her, but the guys are all nice.”

I pause. “Well, they’re all nice except Sebastian. Whatever he says to you, the best way to deal with it is to just ignore him.”

Her eyes pinch up but she stops the anxious movements of her hands. “You’re really making this sound like this is going to be the worst time I’ve ever had in my entire life, Mister Bossy. Honestly, you have a terrible way with words.”

This woman always says and does the exact opposite of what everyone else I know would do. My entire life, I’ve been surrounded by people who would lie, cheat, and steal to find a way to get invited to these game nights.

Meanwhile, Erica couldn’t be any less impressed. She hates being here, and she definitely hates that I’m rich and famous and spending the evening with a group of other rich and famous people.

But could it be? Could this be a new tactic for women to win their way into my pants? What’s that thing that some guys do? Negging?

I know Erica says she has no idea who I am, but that seems almost impossible. Unless she’s been living under a rock for the last year, I can almost guarantee that she’s heard my most famous single, Eating Out.

And whether she knows about me or not, the way she always pushes back against everything I say in that half-teasing sort of way drives me crazy. Partly that’s because she never says anything that she doesn’t absolutely believe is true. And that’s the most painful part of being her friend. Frenemy. Boss. Whatever it is the two of us are doing.

I feign innocence. “I can’t believe you’re standing here telling me that I’m terrible. Terrible as in worse than when you chased me into the elevator, caused a scandal in my lobby, and then basically forced me to give you this job?”

Her face heats again, and I love it. Getting her riled up is my favorite pastime, right after making her blush. She’s so innocent that it makes something deep inside me yearn to ruin her, despoil all of her sweet young naivete and bend her to my will. And by far the easiest way to defeat her typical icy composure is by poking at her until she shows her temper.

“Despite your terrible behavior, that episode turned out quite well for us, actually. I have a job guarding the moat of heavily armed alligators circling around your ongoing disaster of a personal life, and you only manage to irritate me on days of the week that end in the letter Y.”

Behind us, a cold voice says, “That’s every day, if you haven’t done the math on it, Tate.”

Of course. It would have to be Sebastian.

He has this way of always sounding mean every single time he talks, like he’s about to laugh at me for being so stupid. The only reason I’m still his friend is because he treats all of us like this. We all have our flaws, and Sebastian’s is that he always sounds like he’s mocking everyone he talks to.

Or maybe the joke’s on me and he really is making fun of everyone all the time. Well, someone is going to get the better of him one of these days and it’s going to be delicious watching him finally give in to someone other than his own massive ego.

I flash him my newspaper smile and bat my eyelashes at him. “You know I’m not exactly famous for my math skills, Sebastian.” I reach for my hair and start to pull it up into my typical bun, leering at him while I do so.

Ethan Alexander calls out to us. “Are you actually coming inside or are you messing with your hair, Tate?”

I let my hands drop from the knot I was pulling my long locks into and scowl in the direction his voice came from.

Erica cackles. “Jeez. That man really knows you.”

Sebastian peers at her curiously, leaning in closer and invading her personal space. “We all know almost everything about our friend. But none of us know you, now do we?”

I grip his arm and push him back a little ways, creating additional space between Sebastian and Erica. “Look. Don’t mess with her. She’s here with me.”

Beside me, Erica lets out a little gasp and then shoves her way past me into the entryway, where she’s greeted by Ethan and his wife Zoe.

“You must be Erica. I’m so glad you’re here.” Zoe beams at Erica, who has frozen mid step, her eyes on the fancy marble flooring.

Ethan snuggles his new wife against his body. “You must have your hands full trying to keep Donovan Tate out of trouble.”

At that, Erica looks up and her face lights up. I love it when she feels at ease long enough to let people close to her, even if it has to be at my expense.

“He’s more than a handful. He’s an absolute boatload of trouble. An entire barge’s cargo of drama and messiness, all on his own.”

Ethan cackles. “I’m glad someone else sees through the messy man in the press to the actual messy guy underneath. Welcome, Erica.”

She glances at me, but when she sees I’m still smiling, returns her attention to our hosts. “Thank you for letting me attend. I’ll try not to bother you.”

Ethan shakes his head. “Any friend of Tate’s is a friend of ours. Besides, we already have a guest who’s going to be an entire handful tonight and it isn’t you.”

Erica looks from Ethan to me to the door, shuffling her feet as if she’s weighing her options for escape. “I’m not sure we need an entire handful of trouble. Mr. Tate’s had quite a busy week already.”

Sebastian flashes his teeth at her. “Yes, well that’s standard for the Donovan Tate.”

I wave him off and then reach for Erica’s elbow. “Come to the poker room and let’s see who’s going to be causing problems tonight at Big Balls’ poker palace, okay?”

She nods and lets me wrap my hand around her elbow, leading her down the hall toward the poker room.

“Did you say ‘Big Balls’? Why would you call your friend that awful nickname?”

Oh Erica. Sweet, innocent girl who exists outside all of our Page Six machinations.

“I’ll tell you all about it later, okay?” I give her arm a little squeeze and pull her a little bit closer.

The door swings open, but I’m momentarily rendered speechless by what I’ve found in the poker room.

Because it looks to me like we may well be in over our heads.

CHAPTER TWO

ERICA

THERE’S a naked woman lying on the table. You’d think I was immune to the ongoing plague of scandal following my boss around, but there’s always some new, unexpected level to it. His level of disastrous is the gift that keeps on giving.

Even here at his so-called friend’s house. But I have never felt more surprised by someone I like. Ethan’s wife, Zoe, seemed like a good person. Not the type to let naked women just lie around on a table in her husband’s house either.

I mean, I guess even when you know people, you can still be surprised at who they really are. Even when they tell you. Even when there are red flags everywhere. I should have learned that by now.

I focus on Tate, who is standing in the doorway, mouth agape. It’s not easy for me to tell if he’s horrified or just regular surprised. From everything I’ve seen so far, this is very on brand for him.

Well, either way, this is exactly the type of situation that I am here to handle for him. I plant myself in front of him and grab his arms. I give him a little shake until he looks at me and then the weirdest thing happens.

He blushes. Serial bad boy Donovan Tate blushes, and then lets me shove him away, back toward the direction we came from.

Honestly. What we this man do without me?

Once he’s far enough away, I head back to the poker room and close the door. Then I turn my attention to the naked woman on the poker table.

She’s got a headful of golden blonde curls and the top of her shoulders poking out above two mounds of poker chips. Then there’s another batch of chips over her lap.

“Hi,” I say gently. I don’t want to make whatever this situation is worse. Like if she was hired, then that’s her business, but I can’t have my boss anywhere near something like this. He’s supposed to be repairing his reputation, not writing the sketchy epilogue to the latest chapter of his tabloid scandals.

The woman flashes me an innocent look that I don’t believe for a moment. Even I can tell she’s up to mischief. She offers up a little fingertip wave to me, but the motion makes the chip piles slide away from her lingerie.

“Hello there,” she says warmly. “Would you mind giving me a hand here? We can make a deal that will work for both of us.”

What do you think Naughty Granny wants me to do? I’m low key scared to find out, but also this woman isn’t exactly leaving me another option.

When the woman gestures for me to come closer though, I’m basically stuck. Like is there some option other than to help her? Whatever that might entail. I can’t exactly call security at someone’s house, right?

I think about it again, more carefully, but the best choice has to be to just help her. I move to her side. “I don’t live here or anything, but I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to be up on the table.”

The woman bats her eyelashes at me. “If you help me get a few photographs and an autograph from Donovan Tate, I’ll get down right away and even clean up.” She tilts her head and gives me angel eyes. “Don’t you want to help a sweet little old lady out?”

I can’t help but snort. “Quit that. I don’t mind helping sweet little old ladies out, but I’ll also help you too. But I’m sure you know that Donovan Tate hates giving autographs.”

Her grin tightens, and then she pats my hand. “He’ll do it if you tell him to.” She gestures toward the other side of the table. “My camera is in the big pink furry bag over there.”

“Of course it is. No point in just having a regular purse. This is much better for all your naked table emergencies.” I shake my head, but then go ahead and head toward her purse to locate her camera.

“I’m not naked. I’m definitely wearing my underwear,” she calls out as I root around in her giant purse. I swear this thing is larger on the inside than it appears.

“Thank you for telling me that you’re not naked.” I finally locate the camera she sent me to look for, and turn toward her.

It’s surprisingly large and looks expensive, with a telephoto lens like one of those nature photographers. I can’t help but wonder how she got a giant contraption like this to fit into a purse. I’ll bet she’s the kind of person who sneaks an entire sheet cake into the movies, and I can’t help but tell her so.

“A split of champagne too,” she says proudly, peering over her shoulder and giving me her best sultry eyes. “Ah, the good old days.”

I shake my head. “Don’t act like your best days are behind you. Neither one of us believes that. If you keep your clothes on the next time I see you, we can go to the movies together and sneak in a cake for old time’s sake.”

She beams at me, so I snap a few pictures of the woman who has draped herself across the table. Then she gives me sultry eyes that make me a little uncomfortable, and finally I have to tell her we have plenty of good shots. I reach a hand over to help her down. “Come on and let’s clean this up.”

The lady gives me a quick squeeze and shimmies back into her clothes—a skintight pantsuit in bright red. Not exactly typical grandma clothes but I mean, get it girl. Please let me turn into this kind of wild old lady someday.

“Do you want to know what my favorite part of being me is?” The little old lady helping me clean up potato chips from the felt peers at me. “Once you get to be a certain age, people are afraid of you. They can’t seem to tell you no even if what you’re asking for is ridiculous.”

I stare at her, keeping my face blank on purpose. “I’m sure you’d never ask for anything ridiculous. Especially not from a stranger who just took pictures of you in your underwear. Or, for instance, Donovan Tate.”

She winks at me. “I’ve met him before, so he’s not exactly a stranger, now is he?” Then she pats me on the hand. “And you have been nothing but kind. I love how protective you are of your man though. He’s lucky to have you.”

I shake my head. “He’s not my man. He’s my boss. Don’t get the wrong idea.”

The little old lady with the mile-wide naughty streak laughs right in my face. “It’s a short trip from boss to boyfriend. Especially with a man who looks at a woman the way he was looking at you.”

I hate blushing, but I do it anyway for the second time since I got here. Was he really looking at me? Does this wild grandma see something that I’m missing?

Surely not. Donovan Tate seems like the type of man who exclusively dates expensive celebrities. Like not even reality show types, but the real deal. There’s no way he would look at me like that when I’m just his ridiculous, overpaid assistant.

His self-appointed mean babysitter. Whatever it is we’re doing.

The feisty little grandma squeezes my hand. “Listen to me, honey. I’m the best matchmaker in the entire state of Indiana, and if that man isn’t at least a little bit crazy about you, my name isn’t Opal Marie Hopf.”

I shake my head and go back to clearing up the poker chips. And potato chips. I don’t know how many minutes this woman was left unattended, but it was apparently far too long for her own good.

Finally, the table is clear and my face has stopped burning, so it’s probably safe to go retrieve Tate and his friends. I’m assuming if they get on with their poker game, it’ll keep this lady entertained enough that she doesn’t get undressed again.

I get her settled back into her chair and grab a plate of snacks for her, just to keep her out of trouble.

“I’m going to get the guys. Can you keep yourself out of trouble while I’m gone?”

She beams up at me. “Where’s the fun in that? Also, don’t forget that you promised that you’d get me an autograph from Donovan Tate if I was good.”

This feels like a trap, but I finally nod. “Okay, I’ll make him do it.” I narrow my eyes at her, but decide to make a break for it while the getting’s good.

She laughs as I slip out into the hallway.

CHAPTER THREE

TATE

I ABSOLUTELY CANNOT BELIEVE I had to autograph that wild little old lady’s butt. “Do you think she’s actually going to get the tattoo?”

Erica frowns. “I’d say anything is possible when it comes to Aunt Opal.”

I sigh heavily. “You want to tell me how it is you ended up promising I would sign her butt cheek anyway?”

She winces at the sharpness of my tone. “Nope.”

“Sounds to me like you made a sucker’s bet.” I shrug. “It happens to all of us sooner or later.”

Erica pokes me with her pointy little index finger. “I’ll have you know that I’ve never lost a bet in my life. I simply negotiated with Aunt Opal, and the price paid was an autograph from the Donovan Tate.” She laughs. “Like you’re such a big deal. Pfft.”

Ouch. “I am to some people,” I protest. I really don’t like it when Erica makes fun of me, even if she is only teasing.

She puts her hand on my upper arm, halting me in my tracks. “Mister Bossy, I hate to break it to you but you’re not a big deal in any way, shape, or form. You’re just a guy who lost at poker. Again.”

I straighten up and pin her with a look that would wither a lesser man. “At least let me get home before we start bickering like an old married couple, okay?”

She shrugs noncommittally and waves me off. “Whatever you want. As long as you’re happy, I can deal with it.”

“Well, I am happy. This entire night was epic.” I stretch my arms above my head and walk in front of Erica to my car.

She sniffs. “Epically ridiculous. I’ve never seen a group of grown men act more like a bunch of children.”

I shrug and slow down until we are next to one another again. “We’re best friends. We don’t have to be anything for one another except for ourselves.”

She glances at me sideways through the curtain of her hair like she is sizing me up and finding me wanting.

I always feel like I’m at a deficit with her. Erica is so painfully honest that she sees through every layer of protection I have built up over the years, and she can see how little I have underneath my protective shell.

“I’d love to have even one friend like that,” she says, just barely a murmur. “Someone who let me be exactly who I am without making me feel bad for it.”

Even though I know she isn’t talking about me, her words simply hurt. I want her to have that kind of acceptance. She deserves it. We all do.

And more than anything else, I know how painful it is to miss out on that kind of friendship. I waited for so many years for someone to see me, to take me as I am, faults and all.

“You know, we could be friends, Miss Ridley.” The words are out before I can second guess them, but they make me feel nervous and a little bit desperate for her to agree.

She wriggles a little, from her neck down to her toes. “Get real. You’re my boss. Not my friend.”

Maybe it’s the leftover excitement from tonight’s game talking, but I can’t seem to let this go. I don’t want anyone to feel as lonely as I did before I had my best friends. Especially if the person feeling so lonely is Erica.

“I tell you what. You’re always saying that you’re not one to back down from a challenge. So, let’s bet on it.”

Is this a terrible idea? Probably no worse than hiring someone who doesn’t know anything about me or the music business as my assistant.

But I want Erica to say yes. If she can’t open herself up to friendship with me without this sort of protection in place, I can understand that reluctance.

I don’t want her to feel isolated for any longer. She’s too good of a person to feel so cut off from others like this.

Her nose wrinkles. “What exactly did you have in mind? Are we doing a coin toss on whether we end up friends?”

She’s going to go for it. I can already picture her saying yes and then falling into my arms, embracing me the way she did Zoe earlier tonight.

“My game of choice is poker.” I take off my jacket and toss it over my shoulder, watching her eyes watch my movements.

She licks her lips. “I’ve never played poker before.”

“As you saw earlier, it’s easy. You watched me play with my friends tonight, and if you have questions, I’ll answer them along the way.”

She’s already shaking her head. “One hand of poker for some vague promise of friendship isn’t going to cut it with me.”

That’s not a no, so let’s see how far I can push it with this woman. “What did you have in mind then?”

She straightens up and pins me in place with her gaze. “We can play poker, but the stakes should be higher.”

I’m already shaking my head at her. “I won’t play a game you’ve never tried before for money. Not when I know how hard you’re working to pay off your loans and get ready for graduate school.”

I watch the energy leach out of her. “Okay,” she says, then fixes her gaze back on the ground as we head toward the car.

“But what about something else?” I pause, holding my entire body quiet and still in the night.

“I’m not getting a spray tan, so forget about it.” She folds her arms across her chest and I swear I don’t stare at her body. “And I’m not going out for karaoke or anything either, so that’s also out.”

My lips form a pout, one that has been photographed repeatedly over the several decades of my existence. “Well what do you suggest then?”

She waits an interminably long time, shifting her weight from side to side along the ground. “How about strip poker?”

The breath leaves my body as her words penetrate my brain. I swear and then plant myself in front of her. “That’s not the kind of thing you should joke about, Miss Ridley.”

She frowns at me. “I’m not joking. I never joke and you know it.”

I do know it. Erica is not the kidding around type, but I can’t make sense of the words she just said. My heart is pounding like I’ve just run a marathon and my mouth is completely dry. “Seriously.”

Her shoulders pinch up defensively at my tone, but then she straightens her spine and stares at me. “Why shouldn’t I? It’s my body, my choice.”

Every alarm bell in my brain is blaring at what an impossibly bad idea this is, but I can already predict the future on this one. And if I mess up enough of the poker hands on purpose, then she’ll get embarrassed and make me leave.

I’m probably doing her a favor by teaching her not to make crazy strip poker bets with men. Especially not men like me who have filthy reputations.

“Fine.” I turn from her and stomp the rest of the way to my car.

“Fine,” her voice drifts into the air behind me, and I can’t decide if I’m furious or turned on or both right now. Whatever it is, I’m going to do everything I can to keep Erica Ridley safe. Even if it’s from me and my own questionable choices.

The silence on the car ride home is thick with tension, both of us attempting to determine whether the other person is going to chicken out. But then we’re at her place, and I’m opening her car door and before I can even ask her if she’s sure about all of this, we’re in her little tiny apartment.

It’s hot in here. I’m sweating, and I move to loosen the top couple of buttons of my Henley.

She raises an eyebrow at me. “Do I get the first one for free or something? It’s like you don’t even want to win.”

I swallow down the words that are threatening to escape, and give her one of my most wolfish grins instead. “Maybe I think you need a head start.” I slowly roll up the cuffs of my sleeves, and she tracks the movements of my hands with her eyes.

“I told you that I’ve never lost a bet.” She sits on her couch and crosses her feet at the ankle. “I’m not going to lose tonight either.”

She’s right. I’m going to throw every single hand we play until she gets embarrassed enough to call this off. As long as she knows I’m not here to take advantage of her, but that I want us to be closer.

Closer as friends, though. Not people who take their clothes off and end up pressed against each other, mouths seeking respite from all the busy thoughts in our heads.

Oh no. I definitely need to stop thinking about us kissing. That would be a terrible idea. I need her too much for that.

“Let’s make an agreement first. No matter what happens tonight, I don’t want anything to change between us.”

She laughs. “I’ll keep babysitting you as long as you need me, Bossy. Don’t worry.”

“And after this, I want to hear you say that we’re friends. Real friends. Not the weird angry frenemy thing that we’ve been doing.” This is the important part. I need for Erica to understand that she’s precious to me, long before either one of us removes even a stitch of clothing. Even if this is just a game.

She looks at my hands and forearms, then meets my gaze and nods. “I trust you. You’re one of the only people I’ve ever considered a friend.”

If I were smart, I’d take this as a win right now and get out of here and go back to my big empty house for the night. But it’s become clear that I’m a complete idiot when it comes to the feisty little woman seated on her beat up sofa.

So instead, I take off my shirt. One handed and from behind my neck, the way that women like.

At her gasp, I can’t help but preen a little. I know what I look like, but now she knows too. And not because she did an internet search for “shirtless rockstar photos” but because she invited me to have this little wager with her.

This shirtless wager, that leaves me feeling like my skin is overheating.

“Do you want me to deal?” I lean forward, not-so casually propping my chin up on my hand, letting the length of my hair spill down my neck.

“Deal what?” Erica’s voice is breathier than usual, her eyes darkened as she drinks me in.

“The cards, Miss Ridley. If we’re playing, then you’ll need to get the cards.”

Should I still lose on purpose? Or should I play to win this match and see what secrets Erica is hiding underneath her long, color blocked dress?

She stands up, then sits down again. “I um.”

I stare at her, wondering if the sight of me shirtless has rendered her speechless. I am too a big deal, so take that.

“You um what, Miss Ridley?” We can both hear the sex dripping in my tone, and I can feel my breathing speed up to match her own.

She covers her face with both of her hands and makes a noise of distress. “I don’t have any cards, you weirdo. Don’t you have some with you?”

I run my hands along the tight jeans I’m wearing. “Where exactly would I be hiding them, Miss Ridley? Did you want to pat me down and check?”

I move closer until I’m sitting next to her on the couch, every millimeter of space between us electric and thrumming with tension.

“What on earth are we supposed to do instead?” I purr out at her, reaching for her hands and removing them from her face. Then I reach for her jaw and make her face me.

“I should go.” She pulls away from me and stands up again, staring around the room like she doesn’t even recognize her own home.

“Don’t be silly. This is your home, Erica. I can go right now if you don’t want to spend any more time with me.” I’m hoping she can’t hear the disappointment in my voice, so I cover it up with a wink.

She sits again and takes my hand in hers, purposefully not looking at my body or my face. “We could always do something that friends do. If you meant the friends thing you said.”

“Like what?” I manage, hoping she means some sort of kissing. Preferably shirtless.

“A movie?” she squeaks out, and I move even closer to her, until she is next to me, every inch of us connected, my bare skin against her silky dress.

“If that’s what you want, we’ll do it.” I wrap my arm around her shoulders. “We can do whatever you want, Erica.”

She picks up the remote and puts on some sort of anime. I swallow the sigh that threatens to erupt because I can’t read the freaking subtitles, so I have no idea what’s happening.

“Hush,” she murmurs, and then relaxes against me. She feels so good that I have to force myself to remember this is just us as friends. And that’s more than enough, for now at least.

“Okay. I won’t complain about what we’re watching as long as you admit that you lost and I won.” I grin at her even though she isn’t looking at me because I know that’s enough to get her riled up yet again.

She rests her head against my chest for a moment before she answers, and I try to breathe as normally as possible but this feels so intimate. More intimate than any sex I’ve ever had in my life.

“I’m keeping you out of trouble, watching Cowboy Bebop, and I have the not-at-all-a-big-deal Donovan Tate shirtless on my couch for the night. I’d say that’s a win.”

I brush my lips over the top of her hair, a tiny kiss that I can deny happened later. “It may not be an autograph on the butt, but I’d say us becoming better friends is definitely a win, Miss Ridley.”

She turns her head and looks at me again. “Just like I told you, Tate.There was no way I was going to lose.”

Maybe tomorrow we go back to our regular banter and teasing, but for tonight, we cuddle up together, and I feel closer to Erica Ridley than I’ve ever felt to another woman in my entire life. And for me, that’s definitely a win.

About the Author

Anna Michael writes contemporary romance with delicious first kisses, lots of schmexy times, and butt stuff. She’s very passionate about happily ever afters because the world is a tough place and we should all have books that makes us feel good.

She lives with her two naughty but awfully cute kids, a cat who doesn’t know how to be a cat, and their stormy dog who they rescued after Hurricane Katrina.

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QUEEN MOVE

A COMPASS SERIES SHORT

ARIA WYATT

Lena Hamilton

“ARGH, MATEY!” shouts the pirate on my doorstep, waving his little wooden sword like a hellion. “Gimme that candy, or I’ll make you walk the plank!”

I feign horror and turn toward the plump calico at my feet. “Did you hear that, Hermione? He’s gonna throw us overboard.”

My cat slow blinks in response, the tip of her tail twitching like she’s not amused. As usual, she’s been supervising all evening, but unlike her skittish brother, she’s not the slightest bit fazed by the parade of children that descended on our Brooklyn neighborhood.

It was adorable. There were ghouls, goblins, and clowns. Princesses, superheroes, and ballerinas. Even a cowboy or two. My personal favorites were the twin girls who dressed up as a Starbucks barista and a mocha Frappuccino. I need caffeine to live, and I’ve never met anything chocolate that I didn’t like, so I gave them extra candy. Tonight’s costumes were definitely cuter than last year’s. Or maybe I’m becoming more attuned to them as I get older. Hopefully one day I’ll get to be part of the procession, instead of a bystander. A wistful sigh escapes my lips at the thought of having my own munchkins to dress up. Time will tell, I guess.

The redheaded swashbuckler shoves his eyepatch onto his forehead and peers up at me. “I betcha my sword is more powerful than your broom.”

“You’re probably right, Tim.” I point to the orange pumpkin bowl on the chair I dragged into the foyer. “But I have the treasure you seek. And if I’m not mistaken, I don’t think I heard the magic words.”

His face lights up when he spots the remaining candy. “Please!”

Chuckling, I shake my head. “That wasn’t the magic word I was referring to, but I appreciate your manners. Think Halloween, silly.”

“Oh, yeah.” He excitedly hops from foot to foot like an off-balance kangaroo. “I mean, trick-or-treat!”

“That’s better.” I grab the bowl and deposit two Twix bars, three bags of M&Ms, and a handful of miniature Reese’s cups into the reflective sack he’s carrying.

“Wow! Thank you.” Eyes widening, he flashes a toothy grin and motions to the empty bowl. “I was joking about the plank. You didn’t hafta give me all your candy.”

I tip my pointy black hat at him. “Well, this witch is super tired. Plus, I have eyeball stew cooking in my cauldron, so I need to go check on it.”

The neighbor’s kid wrinkles his freckled nose. “Eyeballs are gross.”

“Depends on how they’re cooked. Don’t knock them ’til you try them.”

“C’mon, Timmy,” calls his mother from the sidewalk. “Thanks, Lena.”

I give her a wave, knowing she won’t be thanking me when she discovers the amount of sugar I just gave her already energetic son. Although, it is a holiday, and Tim has been active since the moment he was born, so she ought to be used to it by now. He certainly keeps me on my toes when I watch him from time to time.

“You’re welcome, Jen. I threw some extra in there for you. Your favorites, of course. Happy Halloween.”

“You’re the best.” She laughs. “Believe me, I already told him any Reese’s he scores are mine.”

“’Bye, Lena. Thank you!” Tim bounds down the steps to join her.

“You’re welcome. Make sure you share with Mommy.”

“I will.”

A blast of wind chills me and sends dead leaves skittering down the sidewalk as I linger on the stoop for a moment, watching them make their way to the elderly woman across the street. Smiling, I head back into the shared foyer, turn off the outside lights, and lock the door. While I’m not actually tired, it’s almost curfew, and I’m all out of treats. Besides, right now, I’ve only got one warlock on my mind. My stomach cartwheels with the reminder of what I have planned for the rest of the night.

“Let’s go, girlie. You’ve done enough socializing this evening.” I scoop up my chunky feline, snag the empty candy bowl, and head upstairs to my apartment, sliding the deadbolt behind me.

Harry is waiting for us in the kitchen, eyeing his food dish with utter disdain.

“Really? It’s three-quarters full, dude. No reason to give me the evil eye.” I grab the bag of kibble from the pantry and fill both dishes to the brim. “There you go, my lord. It’s not what you’re hoping for, but you’re gonna have to deal.” I know what he really wants—wet food—but he already had his portion for today. I lean down to scratch his head, then abruptly sidestep Hermione, who gallops over like she hasn’t eaten in months. Unlike her brother, she isn’t snobby about the amount in her dish, as long as there’s food, period. I quickly refill their water bowls and make sure the coffee pot is ready for tomorrow morning. Something tells me it’s going to be a late night.

With both cats occupied for the moment, I rush to my bedroom and secure the door. The last thing I need is their nosey asses barging in while I’m trying to do my thing. I’m sure they’ll be scratching at the hallway carpet soon enough.

The cartwheels in my belly morph into somersaults as I shed my witch costume and freshen my makeup. Thankfully, I painted my nails earlier. There’s no way I could do it right now with the way my hands are shaking.

Breathe, Lena.

It’s my boyfriend’s thirty-fifth birthday. I have more than a few tricks and treats prepared for our celebration, but it’s going to be a challenge because there’s currently an ocean between us. Why? He’s a ridiculously famous movie star. I still can’t fathom how this snarky New York nurse ended up with a Hollywood A-lister.

Sometimes reality is crazier than fantasy. Or the line between them blurs, and you aren’t sure whether you’re awake or dreaming. We’ve all had those what the fuck? moments when we question our sanity because the events unfolding in our lives couldn’t possibly be happening to us. Well, guess what? Life doesn’t care if you believe in the cards you’re dealt. Sometimes the decision is made for you, and the only logical course of action is to go with the flow. Certainty isn’t permanent, and there’s a fluid balance between what we know and what we think. It only takes one tiny glitch in the matrix to trigger a domino effect of change. It happens whether you embrace or fight it, believe or deny it. When those twists of fate redirect you, and the paths you were following no longer exist, it’s in your best interest to merge. Whether you call it luck or serendipity, a coincidence or a curse, these turning points have the power to rewrite your future.

I should know. The past few months have been a surreal whirlwind of insanity.

Everything changed back in August, when my boss forced me out the door for a mental health leave of absence while simultaneously offering me a promotion. Talk about a mindfuck! I had two weeks to kill, and life-altering decisions to make. Luckily, my best friend convinced me to take an impromptu solo trip to Alaska for some much-needed relaxation. He knew as well as I did, there was no chance of me staying away from my hospital with our unit so short-staffed. The plan was to soak up nature’s tranquility while deciding my future, aka un-fucking my mind.

Nothing could have prepared me for what happened.

Fate has a funny way of putting unsuspecting hearts in checkmate. If someone had told me three months ago, I’d be in a serious relationship with heartthrob Australian actor, Wes Emerson, I would have died laughing. I’m talking a snort-cry-wheeze hyena laugh with the power to threaten my bladder’s integrity.

The universe clearly didn’t give a fuck about my pelvic floor when she dropped me into Wes’s lap on a tiny plane in Fairbanks. It turns out I’d crashed a celebrity guys’ trip when I snagged the last vacancy at a remote resort in the Far North. Who knew I’d find myself stranded in the arctic with a trio of hot famous dudes? Or that one of them would become mine?

Thanks to my shitty history with men, pre-Alaska Lena had made peace with being single. I had a knack for dating assholes who didn’t appreciate me. Trust me, my track record includes four years clinging to a hollow relationship, and a broken engagement, to prove it. Turns out you can’t heal people who don’t want to be healed, and it’s easy to wound yourself trying. I spent a long time loving a man who didn’t want to be loved. Forcing a bond that was never truly there to begin with. Lesson learned.

After my love life imploded, my job became my sole focus. Until even that got to be too much. When an unspeakable tragedy overwhelmed my hospital, I fell apart. My collapse was inevitable. I’d long reached my limit but kept pushing those boundaries because I didn’t know any other way to function. Autopilot isn’t a failsafe. Sometimes we don’t recognize a tailspin until we’ve crashed and burned. I didn’t need a man to fuel that fire. Besides, my brownstone was loaded with book boyfriends and enough battery-operated toys to keep my lady bits happy.

Or so I thought.

Anyway, Alaska was a brutal hostess. We spent three weeks at Mother Nature’s mercy after a planned excursion went awry. I learned more about myself than I cared to, but at the heart of it all, I discovered I’m stronger than I ever gave myself credit for. Even though I crumble now and then, I’m not broken. It feels cliché to call the trip a life-changing adventure, but that’s exactly what it was.

I’m a comfort zone kind of girl. Change and the unknown have always terrified me. Leaps of faith were out of the question, so my fears trapped me in a safe, stagnant purgatory for years. I am not an adventurous woman. The decision to travel alone was so out of character for me, I still can’t believe I went through with it. Alaska was the riskiest endeavor of my life. Uncharted territory and new frontiers don’t exactly jive for a woman whose idea of fun means curling up on her couch with a book. Let’s not forget my famous travel companions. I’d never felt more out of my element than when I realized Wes genuinely wanted me, the bigmouthed Brooklyn girl who refused to fall at his feet. Yeah, he had nothing to lose—I was the only woman for miles, and we could’ve died out there—but that didn’t matter. He saw my worth. In doing so, he opened my eyes.

The ordeal gave me the perspective I lacked, and the courage to make changes I’d shied away from for far too long. The metamorphosis from life spectator to participant has been the most rewarding part of the trip’s fallout. As a bonus, I gained a hot boyfriend and two close friends. Chosen family is a concept I’ve always embraced. Make no mistake, the four of us became a family during our time in the wild. We had to—our survival depended on it. I’ll be forever grateful for the bonds I forged with Wes and his friends.

Even though our relationship currently involves a lot of alone time.

Wes has been traveling for the press tour promoting his upcoming movie release, The Aegean, which is the third installment in the Olympus Fire franchise. Like in the first two movies, he stars as Ares, the hunky, muscled, Greek god of war. I had the pleasure of attending The Aegean’s screening in Los Angeles a few weeks ago, and let me tell you, the world is not ready for the film’s level of hotness. My man is a sexy beast. He has a few days off from touring, so he flew home to Australia to visit his family. Even though we’re not physically together, I fully intend to make this a birthday to remember.

I step into the silky, red thong I’ve chosen, and shove my boobs into the matching lace bra, tightening the straps to hoist them up. Once satisfied, I hide the sexy lingerie beneath red silk pajamas and cover up with a robe that’s, well, not at all sexy.

A shiver of excitement races down my spine, knowing Wes will lose his shit when I finally reveal my “costume.”

I glance at the clock on my nightstand. The time difference between Brooklyn and Melbourne makes staying in contact tricky, but we’ve adapted our routines. My bedtime falls around his lunchtime. We usually talk on the phone or video chat until I fall asleep.

My birthday boy will be getting one hell of a visual this evening. As long as I can calm my nerves enough to execute my elaborate plan.

Taking a deep breath, I weave my long hair into a braid and check my reflection. My makeup is subtle, yet sexy. The belt cinching my waist accentuates my curves, and my bra gives the girls the support they need. Even with my fluffy leopard print robe, I look pretty fucking hot, if I do say so myself.

Before meeting Wes, my bedroom confidence—and libido—was pitiful. No joke, my ex’s neglect left me in a dry spell that could put the Sahara to shame. We broke up ten months ago, but I went years without true pleasure. The physical aspect was never anything to write home about, and the last year and a half of our relationship was essentially sexless. Now, as I peer into my mirror and truly feel desirable, I know the next chapter of my life has begun. I barely recognize the woman staring back at me. I’m awed by her strength. Her boldness. Her power. I’m not a peasant begging for scraps of attention, I’m a fucking queen.

Wes is the embodiment of strength, safety, and warmth. No, forget warmth. He’s a sun-kissed inferno. At six foot five, with muscles carved by the gods, cobalt blue eyes, and the world’s sexiest accent, hot doesn’t begin to describe him. Best of all, the man is an animal in bed. He’s domineering, intense, and unlike my ex, Wes knows his way around a woman’s body.

I didn’t plan to fall in love with him during our insane wilderness odyssey, but he gave me no choice. Wes Emerson is the kind of man I thought only existed in romance novels. Yes, he’s gorgeous, but beneath his cocky charisma, he hides a soft heart and genuine soul. He’s brave, thoughtful, and intuitive. After four years with a man who barely looked up from his phone when I walked into a room, his attention is refreshing as fuck. Deeper than that, he sees the real me and loves me for who I am, flaws and all. He listens and hears me, which is a game-changer for a woman with my history.

Bottom line, I’m not an afterthought, I’m a priority. I never realized the staggering difference between the two until I met Wes.

It’s amazing what true romantic connection can do for a person. He makes me feel seen and heard in the best of ways. He holds my heart in the palms of his hands. And my soul? Let’s just say I’ve found my true north.

And mind-blowing orgasms.

My insides flutter and heat with the thought. I’ve got all my props laid out on my bed, and my new costume is good to go. My palms are sweating, my heart is racing, but I’m as ready as I’m going to get.

I grab my phone and try to force the slight tremor from my hands. If I pull this off, it will be the boldest sexual experience of my life. Tonight, I plan to step beyond my boundaries and embrace the unknown. I’m ready to take our relationship to the next level and give Wes more of myself than I’ve ever shared with any man.

Tonight, I’ll show him my queen move.

With a deep breath, I tap on the icon with his name. “Okay, Hamilton. It’s showtime,” I whisper to myself, waiting for him to pick up.

His handsome face suddenly fills the screen, and those obscenely blue eyes knock me senseless. “Good evening, sunshine.”

“Howdy, Ace.” I originally gave him the nickname in Alaska as a sarcastic jab for being a prime physical specimen. He was a bit cocky, and I needed to knock him down a few pegs. As our feelings grew, and I realized he was so much more than muscles and an ego, its meaning deepened. Now, I use it as an affectionate reminder that he’s my number one person. “Happy birthday, my sexy Halloween man.”

Although, technically, it’s already November first in Australia, so I’m a day late. However, since his family had planned a party for him on his actual birthday, and I’d offered to accompany my best friend to his AA meeting last night, Wes and I agreed to push our virtual celebration to tonight.

He smiles. “Thank you. I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too. Can you call me back from your iPad or computer?”

“Sure, love.”

“Excellent. You’re gonna want a big screen for this …”

His sharp exhale gusts through the phone, and those cobalt orbs widen as he reaches for the laptop on his kitchen table. “Are you planning to do a striptease or put on a sexy costume?”

“You’ll see,” I singsong, spotting the large package I’d shipped him in the background. “Grab the box and head to your bedroom. Oh … and I recommend you lock your doors and close the blinds.”

He stares at my face on his screen. “If you’re trying to turn me on, it’s already a success.”

It still blows my mind the Wes Emerson is attracted to me. I remember watching the second Olympus Fire movie with my coworker and fantasizing about what it would be like to meet him. Here it is, one year later, and he’s mine. Sometimes I need to pinch myself to make sure I’m not imagining it.

“Well, since I couldn’t be with you today, I wanted to give you the next best thing.” I flash him a wink, then abruptly end the call and set my phone on my dresser. Excitement courses through my body as I hustle over to my bed and snatch my laptop. The thing’s already making a bunch of noise with Wes’s incoming call.

I answer with a grin. “You ready?”

The image on my screen shakes as Wes jogs from his kitchen to his bedroom, flinging the door closed behind him. He locks it and heads for his bed, gift box in tow. His eyes meet mine as he plops it onto the mattress and settles with his laptop. “You said you wanted to give me the next best thing. What, exactly, might that be?”

I smile wider, ready to wow him with my creative gift-giving abilities. “A curated journey of the senses. Here’s the deal. For the remainder of this chat, I’m in charge. You’ll do what I ask, when I ask it—no exceptions. Do you think you can handle that?”

“Yes.”

Unlike him, I’m not the bossy type in bed, so this role reversal should be interesting. There’s nothing like cutting your safety net now and then.

“Good. You may run the show when we’re together, but right now, consider me your alpha.”

“I’m listening.” The corners of his lips twitch with the smirk he’s trying to suppress.

“All right. First things first, I want you to strip down to your boxers and get on the bed.”

Standing, Wes lifts his t-shirt up over his head and tosses it onto the floor, exposing his muscled frame. My insides heat as my eyes travel from his broad chest and shoulders to his sculpted pecs and washboard abs. I know how it feels to have his body moving on top of me, and the ache to feel him again is almost unbearable. He sheds his board shorts, revealing gray boxer briefs and powerful thighs. His prominent bulge tells me he wasn’t bullshitting about being turned on.

“Open the box.” He follows my order and tears it open, peeking at the contents as I motion to my screen. “You’ll notice several smaller boxes inside. See those labels?”

“Yeah.”

“Take them out and line them up in numerical order, but don’t open them yet.”

Nodding, he removes the gold-wrapped packages of varying sizes and shapes. He inspects each numbered gift closely before setting it on the bed.

“When I was thinking about what to get you, I must admit I struggled. What does one give the man who has everything? But then the answer came to me a couple weeks ago. Instead of things, I decided on an experience. And by that, I mean a shared experience. I want to make this a birthday to remember.”

“I’m bursting at the seams, love.”

“Good.” I give him a wicked grin. “When I’m done with you, there won’t even be a thread.”

Wes exhales audibly, the hunger in his eyes making me feel like a goddess as I unfasten the belt on my robe. I slowly shrug out of it, unveiling my silk pajamas, then toss the robe aside.

“I love the red, sunshine. I see you painted your nails too.”

I’m not used to men noticing tiny details about me. His observation means he’s paying attention, and that makes me swoon.

I wiggle my fingers. “Oddly enough, this polish is called ‘red hot sex.’ Seemed fitting for the occasion.” I lick my lips and motion to the packages again. “Grab box number one and open it. We’ll call this the gift of scent.”

He unwraps the paper and pulls an unmarked jar candle from the box. After turning it over in his hands, he lifts the lid and lowers his nose to the wax. His eyes flutter closed with his inhalation. When they reopen, surprise registers in his gaze.

Wes raises an eyebrow. “How’d you do this?”

“I had a candle made using my perfume. Now, I want you to put it on your dresser and light it.”

He rushes across the room to the huge chest of drawers, locates a box of matches, and lights the candle. He stands there for a moment, breathing in the warm, vanilla-coconut aroma. Smiling, he approaches the bed once more.

“Open box number two,” I command, growing more excited by the second. “Behold the gift of sound.”

He shreds the paper and pops the lid, withdrawing a Bluetooth speaker and a mini-MP3 player, along with my handwritten notes.

“I made some playlists with songs that remind me of us as a couple. The first one is called ‘Northern Reflections,’ which is mainly lovey-dovey songs. I listed them out on that page.”

Unfolding it, he reads what I’ve written, and his face softens. “I see you put our dancing song on here.”

Though it’s several years old, I couldn’t help but add John Legend’s “All of Me.” When I visited Wes in California for the film screening, we had some alone time in our hotel room. Turns out he slow dances with the same expertise as he fucks.

“Of course. I listen to it all the time now, and I can almost feel your arms around me, us swaying in the suite. Candles lit, rose petals everywhere.”

He smiles. “You liked that, huh?”

“It was the most romantic day of my life.”

“Mine too.” He touches his computer screen, the wistful expression on his face enough to bring tears to my eyes.

Blinking rapidly, I clear my throat. “Back to your gift. Stop distracting me.”

“Right, sorry.”

“The second playlist, which I’ve titled ‘Lioness,’ is mainly sexy songs that come to mind when I think of you. I’ve preloaded both playlists on that MP3 player. I want you to turn the speaker on and select ‘Lioness.’” I shimmy my hips for effect. “I’m thinking we need a little background music.”

Wes does as he’s told and selects the playlist I indicated. One of my favorite sultry tunes is an older, obscure, J. Lo track called “Come Over.” Her voice fills his room, and he sets the speaker on his nightstand before turning back to his computer.

I meet his expectant gaze. “Box three. The gift of taste. Open it.”

He immediately follows suit and pulls out a small package of chocolates, a bottle of caramel syrup, and a little velvet bag.

“Put the bag aside and open the gold box—those are Giorgio’s truffles. Best chocolates in New York. Go ahead, eat one.” I show him my own container, then pop one of the decadent treats into my mouth.

“Wow.” Wes moans as he chews, sheer bliss transforming his features. “This is divine.”

“I know. They’re my favorite—so smooth and sweet.” I hold up my bottle of caramel syrup. “But this stuff is the nectar of the gods. I put it on ice cream, in my coffee, in various baked goods.” I reach for the banana lying among my other props, meeting his gaze as I peel it. “I make this amazing dessert called Bananas Foster. It’s my favorite. I’ll make it for you sometime. Go ahead, squeeze some into your mouth.”

Wes moans even louder when the sticky sweetness coats his tongue, the sound sending a flare of heat to my lower belly. “My God, this is amazing.”

“Yeah. The next time we see each other, you’re going to lick it off me. And I’ll be sure to return the favor.” I drizzle syrup on the banana and make a show of dragging my tongue through it. Then, with my eyes locked on Wes, I deep-throat the fruit like a porn star. It’s over the top, but I don’t care—a little theatrics never hurt anyone.

“Holy fuck.” He groans, slowly shaking his head. “Lena, you’re killing me.”

I bob my head twice more, then swirl my tongue on the tip as I withdraw it from my mouth. “I’m just getting started, Ace.” I wrap the banana in a tissue and set it on my nightstand with the syrup and truffles. “Box number four. The gift of sight. Open it.”

“Wait, you forgot the little black bag.” He holds it up for me to see.

“That’s for you to open later. When it’s quiet and you’re missing me a little.”

His gaze snaps to mine. “And what if I open it now?”

“Then you’ll miss out on the rest of the gift. I’m in charge, remember?”

“At least tell me what’s inside. Otherwise, I won’t be able to focus.” A sinful smile curves his plush lips.

I know damn well he’s baiting me. That’s fine. Two can play this game.

“Those …” I bring the computer closer and lick my lips. Slowly. Deliberately. With exactly the kind of attention I’d show his cock if we were together. “Are butterscotch hard candies for you to suck on.” I flutter my eyelashes at him. “I seem to recall you comparing a certain part of my body to those confections.”

“Lena, you’re gonna get it when I come to New York.” His growled warning tightens my nipples.

“Get what? The hard fuck and spanking you owe me?” I bite my lip. “If that’s not what you mean, then I’m sorry, I’m just not interested.”

He clenches his jaw. “I’ve never wanted you as badly as I do right now.”

Wes has a deep, booming voice during ordinary conversations. I swear, I could listen to the man talk for hours. But it’s those rare moments when he’s quiet that really rev my engines. Whenever he’s turned on, his Aussie accent thickens, and his voice drops to a panty-saturating rumble. It’s the smoldering calm before the firestorm. I’ve seen him combust. Felt the savage, primal side of him. Right now, the heat in his eyes could burn me alive. I only wish we were together so I could experience him in beast mode.

I raise a brow. “Never?”

“Never.”

“We’ll see about that.” I wink. “Open box four.”

His movements are a blur as he shreds the box. He stares openmouthed for a moment before pulling out the lacy, red bra and matching silk panties nestled inside. Shoulders heaving with each breath, he rubs the material between his fingertips and meets my gaze again.

I stand at the foot of the bed and slowly unbutton my pajama shirt, drawing out the act just because I can. Heat flares in his eyes when I remove it to reveal the same bra he’s holding.

I slide the pants down over my hips, exposing identical panties. “Noticing a theme yet, Ace?”

He opens and closes his mouth a few times, but no words come out. No one has ever looked at me the way he does. The reverence and raw hunger in his expression steal my breath. Lust rolls off him in waves, each one crossing time and space to pull me under. The man is holding on by a thread.

Little does he know, but I’m about to introduce my metaphorical scissors.

Loosening my braid, I keep going before I lose the nerve to finish the scene I’ve rehearsed in my head countless times. The brazen goddess inside me is ready to let her hair down, figuratively, and literally. As the long tresses cascade down my back, I follow her lead with sure steps. I slowly slide the bra straps over my shoulders, then reach around to unhook it.

His eyes darken when I set the garment aside. My breasts feel full and heavy as my nipples harden to taut peaks in the cool air. Trailing my fingertips down my neck, I caress my skin and travel lower. My hair is partially hiding my chest, so I give him a pointed look and toss the caramel-colored locks behind me.

Wes’s shoulders heave as he watches me cup my breasts and brush my thumbs over my nipples. He’s a self-proclaimed “boob man” and loves getting his hands—and mouth—on mine. My sensitive nipples tingle as I continue to rub them beneath his heavy-lidded stare, feeling more aroused by the second. Moaning, I slide my hands lower and hook my fingertips in the waistband of my panties. I pause for a few beats to bask in his attention and rile him up even further. Then, when I’ve tortured him enough, I tug the thong off and throw it on the floor.

“You are so beautiful,” he says through gritted teeth.

I slowly spin in a circle, letting him see all of me. Every plush curve. Every scar, stretch mark, and imperfection. Even through a computer screen, the heat in his eyes is volcanic. I’ve never felt more desired. His molten gaze travels over my body and lingers on my pussy. My earlier apprehension dissipates, leaving behind a woman who is confident and free. This sexual empowerment is a heady experience. Something I could get used to. I’m holding the reins, and it’s crystal-clear Wes will follow wherever I lead him.

I settle on my bed and reposition my laptop. “Enjoying the view?”

“You have no fucking idea.”

“Good. Now, watch closely, Ace.” I trail my hand down my stomach, feathering my fingertips over my clit. I’m so turned on right now, the light touch makes me gasp. “First, I’m going to let you watch me make myself come.”

Wes yanks his computer closer to him, like he’d crawl through the screen to get to me if he could. I massage slow circles on my clit, and allow my legs to fall open, showing him everything he desperately wants to see. We might be on different continents, but the connection we share is potent. Right now, he isn’t an ocean away. Time zones and distance don’t matter. All that exists are the two of us.

His gaze is riveted to the screen as he clenches his hands in the lingerie. Flickering candlelight dances on his walls, and sultry music floats from the speaker as Ariana Grande belts out “God is a Woman.” He’s breathing in my perfume, and I’m sure he can still taste traces of chocolate and caramel. I’ve engaged four of his five senses, and the man is ready to detonate. Just seeing the desire in his eyes heightens my arousal.

I move my hand faster. I’m wet and aching for him. My hips flex into my touch, my body craving the release that’s barreling toward me. I moan, opening my legs wider. Stroking. Rubbing until my toes curl. Pleasure coils around my spine, pooling between my legs. I’m seconds from falling apart.

“I’m almost there.”

“You are so fucking hot, Lena.” Wes growls the words, gripping the lingerie like it’s the only thing keeping him from going into orbit. “I wanna fuck you senseless.”

Beast mode activated.

“Oh, God, Wes!” Back arching, I wail his name as my orgasm slams into me. Wave after wave of ecstasy rolls through me. I’m flying and falling. Sinking and floating. Knowing he’s watching makes it even more intense. “Box number five. The gift of touch,” I say on a gasp.

Wes annihilates the final box and holds up the bottle of lube I sent.

I motion to him. “Get naked. Now, it’s my turn to watch.”

While lying on his side, he lifts his hips and sheds the boxers, freeing his huge cock. No joke, he’s the biggest man I’ve ever been with, and goddamn, does he know how to use it. He stares down at his dick, almost like the idea of touching himself in front of me makes him nervous.

Too bad. I’m not letting him off the hook. Queens don’t back down.

“Angle your screen so I can see you.”

His hands shake slightly as he tilts the screen. He squeezes some lube into his palm and grips his hard cock. Those gorgeous cobalt eyes meet mine. His eyelids flutter as he starts to stroke himself, and it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

“Use both hands. Hold it tighter,” I say in a husky whisper. “Like when my body squeezes you.”

Wes groans and rolls to his back, giving me a mouthwatering side view of his dick. Gripping himself with both hands, he rubs harder, with his head still turned toward the screen so he can watch me. “You’re killing me, sunshine.”

“Keep stroking it, baby.” I show him the bright red vibrator I’d hidden beneath my pillow. “I’m gonna join you. This doesn’t come close to you, but I’m going to close my eyes and imagine it’s you deep inside me.”

“Oh, fuck, Lena …” His guttural groan makes my body even wetter. “I want you so badly.”

“I want you too, Wes. Now, I need you to feel yourself inside me.” I slip the toy into my pussy, moaning as it fills me.

I don’t bother turning it on because I want this to feel as natural as possible, and sadly, real dicks don’t vibrate. It’s a shame, honestly. That’s one of the first things I’d change if tasked with creating a new prototype for the male body. That, and I’d make sure their mouths knew how to locate a clit. None of this is an issue with Wes—he knows exactly how to use his tongue, his hands, and his massive cock—but the concept of women always getting shafted in the pleasure department still unnerves me. It’s fucking rude. Our collective lady bits deserve better. At the very least, someone should’ve asked for my opinion.

Widening my legs, I leisurely stroke the vibrator in and out. It’s one of the bigger ones I own, and it feels amazing, but it doesn’t compare to the fullness Wes gives me. Every time we’re together, the initial bite of pain quickly yields to pleasure when my body adjusts to him. There’s a wanton, primitive woman inside who loves that he’s almost too much for me, and how the tenderness can linger for days afterward. He’s not rough unless I ask for it, but the reminder of his intensity makes me feel like he’s staked his claim. The thought sends a shockwave of heat to my pussy.

I didn’t think I could crave someone this deeply. He’s so fucking gorgeous, he makes it hard to breathe. Lying here, watching him fuck himself for me, I’d swear it’s my birthday. The tanned Adonis stretched out before me is a gift. A fucking work of art. Strands of his golden-brown hair fall over his forehead as he moves. His thick, hard cock glistens with the lube he’s using. I’m soaked and spread open for him. We’re lost to the sensations gripping our bodies.

“Match my rhythm.” Alternating fast and slow thrusts, I fuck myself with shallow strokes. My pussy clenches around the silicone dick like she’s begging me not to stop. As much as I want to fall apart, I don’t want this experience to end. I need more. I need him here. “Do it harder, Wes.” I plunge the toy deep inside, simulating how it feels when he slams into me. The force makes me cry out. “I want you to fuck me.”

Wes groans and moves faster, roughly handling his cock. I love how his muscles flex with each stroke. How he bows off the bed and squeezes his dick tighter.

My god of war is ready for battle, his eyes glued to my pussy. Like the fucking queen I am, I smile and spread my legs impossibly wider.

“Lena.” His feral snarl warns me he’s ready to lose control.

I love this wild version of him. Something tells me the next time we get together, he’s going to fuck me until I feel him inside me for a week.

And I’ll welcome that level of savagery with open legs.

The toy rubs my g-spot with every thrust, and I can feel myself unraveling. Hearing Wes grunt as his hips flex into his touch, the slick of the lube against his huge palms, and his panting breaths, sends me higher.

I move even faster. “Feel me, Wes. Feel it and come for me.”

It only takes him a few more strokes.

“Oh, fuck, Lena …” His mouth drops open, and his cock jerks and spurts his release onto his chiseled stomach. I love the rough, animalistic sounds leaving his chest, and how he digs his heels into the mattress as he comes. Groaning, he keeps moving until he’s given everything he’s got.

I follow him over the edge seconds later, in an explosion of color and sound. Chaos and serenity. It’s an orgasm that burns through me, scorching my body and soul with the desperation of a wildfire. My pussy spasms around the toy. Back arched, hips bucking, I writhe on the mattress, wailing his name.

If I’m queen, he’s my king, and there’s no one I’d rather share my throne with.

For a moment, Wes wasn’t an ocean away. I could swear he was thrusting inside me, making me scream my pleasure. Reality is a cruel bitch though. I’d give anything to reach out and touch him, feel him pull me into his strong arms. Fall asleep with my head on his chest.

Both gasping, we stare into one another’s eyes on our screens. We don’t speak—we simply bask in the afterglow of our shared experience. It was beautiful, raw, and real. It was us.

“Happy birthday, Ace,” I whisper when I finally catch my breath.

“Lena, I … you just … I fucking can’t …” He shakes his head in disbelief.

His loss of words makes me chuckle. “Was it good for you?”

“You own me, sunshine,” he rasps, his breathing as ragged as I feel. “You fucking own me.”

I touch his cheek on my screen, wishing I could feel his stubbled jawline. “Right back at you.”

He cleans himself off with his boxers, then throws them across the room before rolling onto his stomach. With a blissful sigh, he props himself up onto his elbows and rests his chin in his hands, staring at me like a lovesick teenager.

I reposition myself to mimic his pose. “So … thoughts?”

His reaction to my gift tells me everything I need to know, but there’s a part of me that still craves his reassurance. His validation. I haven’t yet mastered that whole “validate yourself” business, but I’m working on it in therapy.

“I’m in awe of you.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

Relief courses through me. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Wes laughs. “Enjoy doesn’t begin to cover it. You’re a supernova, love.”

“Have you ever done anything like that before?” As much as I don’t want to think about the women in his past, I’m curious whether I ticked the originality box for this experience.

“Which part?”

“Well, any of it.” I flush, suddenly shy for some reason. “Have you ever touched yourself?”

He laughs again. “I’m a man, Lena. What bloke hasn’t?”

“Good point.” I’m sure if I had a dick, I’d play with it all the time.

“I’ve never done it in front of a woman, though. Nor have I ever had cyber-sex in any capacity.” He tilts his screen a little. “You’re my first.”

Satisfaction curves my lips, my inner sex goddess in full gloat-mode now. “Excellent.”

Wes lifts an eyebrow. “And what about you? Have you ever put on that kind of show for anyone else?”

“Only you,” I murmur, wishing I could convey more of what I’m feeling without getting too sappy.

“Good.” His satisfied smile tells me I boosted his ego a little. “Although I find that shocking with how comfortable you appeared.”

“Comfortable?” A laugh bursts from my lips. “You should’ve seen the pep talks I gave myself all day to make it seem like I knew what I was doing. I was so worried about being awkward.”

“The only awkward part of the occasion was how close I came to fucking my laptop.” Grinning, he sweeps his hand over his keyboard in a lover’s caress. “I mean, right now I feel like I should probably go run a hot bath for it.” He chuckles and brushes his tousled hair back from his face. “Maybe fan it with a palm leaf, and I dunno, like, feed it grapes or something.”

His comment makes me cackle. “The next time we’re together, I’m totally making you fan me and feed me grapes.”

“I’ll feed you anything you want, sunshine.” He reaches for the chocolates I sent and pops one into his mouth. “And just so you know, I’m gonna eat the fuck out of these truffles.”

“That’s why I gave them to you.”

“Honestly, Lena, the amount of thought you put into this gift …” He meets my gaze. “I’m blown away. The candle, the mood music, and the desserts were perfection.” He motions to the speaker on his nightstand. “I’m gonna listen to all the songs you picked out.”

“You may want to save the ‘Lioness’ playlist for when we’re together. Some of the songs get pretty spicy.” SoMo croons “Ride” in the background to prove my point.

“I like spicy.” He waggles his eyebrows.

“Me too, but I’m just warning you, your wrist might get tired,” I tease, flashing him a sultry wink and giving the air a hand job.

“Oh, please. I’m a pro. How do ya think my forearms got so toned?”

“You do have amazing forearms.”

“Thanks. In all seriousness, seeing you take charge of the situation was the best part.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Is that so, Mr. Bossy-alpha-male?”

He laughs. “You know I love running the show, but I gotta tell you it was refreshing to hand over the reins.” His expression sobers, and his eyes burn into mine. “Your empowerment was so fucking sexy. The whole time, I kept asking myself how I got so lucky. I never imagined meeting a woman like you. Truly. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

My heart swells. I’m not used to being treasured in a relationship. Hell, forget cherished, I wasn’t even appreciated by my ex. Or acknowledged. I can’t explain why I tolerated it for so long. Looking back, my weakness infuriates me. I’m a smart woman. I knew I deserved more than what I was getting, but I couldn’t summon the strength to leave. I was so desperate to fix Marc, that I allowed him to break me. Thank fuck I had the wherewithal not to marry him.

When you always give someone the benefit of the doubt and make excuses for them, it’s hard to see their neglect for what it is—a form of abuse. I spent four years aching for the affection and attention of the man I loved. Four years pouring my heart into the relationship until it damn near dried up. I’ve always been a giver. It makes me happy to please others, but I’m used to draining my emotional well. Wes is the first man to refill it. Now I’m overflowing with feelings I didn’t know I was capable of.

“Thank you. I’m lucky too,” I whisper, fighting the sting of welling tears. Nope. Not happening. I refuse to cry about my past when my future is staring into my eyes.

He slowly shakes his head. “And everything felt so … real.”

“It did. Maybe we’ll have to make cyber-fuckery part of our standard long-distance repertoire,” I suggest, waving my vibrator around like I’m casting a spell. Too bad I can’t abracadabra his dick inside me.

“You’re goddamn right we will.” He rubs his jaw. “You were so fucking perfect. Confident and beautiful. I still can’t get over the fact that you’ve never done anything like that before. All that time together, and your ex seriously never watched you touch yourself?”

“Nope. He had weird, archaic views about self-love, so I never even attempted it. He once found one of my toys and made me feel dirty for owning it.”

Wes blinks. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Yep.”

“There is nothing sexier than a woman taking ownership of her body, her pleasure.”

“Glad you think so. Like I told you before, Marc didn’t give two shits about my pleasure. He was always more interested in his phone. I could’ve pranced around wearing pasties and ass-less chaps, swinging a bullwhip, and he wouldn’t have noticed.”

“He’s a bloody fuckwit.”

“True story.” I clear my throat. “Let’s not talk about him anymore, please.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No, no. You’re good. I’m fine. Sometimes I get frustrated with myself when I think about the shit I put up with and how dumb I was.”

“He was the dumb one. While I hate that you experienced it, I’m grateful for his stupidity.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. His carelessness and callous disregard for your feelings gives me the opportunity to heal the damage he inflicted.”

“I don’t need you to fix me, Wes,” I snipe, unable to force the indignance from my tone.

“That’s not what I meant. You don’t need fixing—I said it wrong. Gimme a minute, will ya? I mean, you just virtually fucked my brains out. You’ve gotta bear with me while I gather my wits.”

“Sorry. Gather away.” I smooth my ruffled feathers and tell my inner warrior to chill her tits. “Didn’t mean to jump on you.”

“For the record, you’re always welcome to jump on me.” A wolfish grin curves his lips. “Preferably onto my dick though.”

“Noted,” I say with a snort. “I’ll work on upping my dick-jumping game. Don’t you worry, Ace. I’ll be ready for the Dick-Jumping Olympics by the time we see each other again. Gold medal, here I come.”

He barks out a laugh. “You’re a bloody firecracker. I dish it out, and you give it back harder. I love that about you. Never change.”

It’s refreshing to have a man who accepts my quirky, perverted self, exactly as I am. I don’t need to change. I’m so used to people trying to mold me into the version of myself they’d like me to be. Not Wes. He loves the authentic, smart-mouthed Lena Hamilton who doesn’t take any of his shit. I don’t need to put on a show for him. My life’s dizzying compass has finally stopped spinning, and the needle points directly at him.

My true north.

Wes clears his throat, running his hand down his face. “What I’m trying to say is, he gave me a gift. I get to be the one who opens your eyes to your strength. Your beauty. Your compassion for others. I get to show you the attention you deserve. I get to love you. Kiss you. Hold you. Make love to you. Fuck you until we forget our names. I get the chance to prove to you again and again how fucking thankful I am that we crossed paths in Alaska. You’ve changed me for the better and enriched my life in ways I never imagined. You are a gift, love. And you’re all mine. I’m gonna spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

“I love you,” I blurt, the words rushing past the tears clogging my throat.

We haven’t talked much about our future, but his declaration gives me hope. Bold, beautiful hope. Maybe we do have what it takes to withstand the noise, chaos, and media attention. Maybe we can spend our lives together. God knows I’d give up my soul to share forever with Wes.

“I love you too, sunshine. With all of my heart.”

Determined not to dissolve into a blubbering mess, I redirect. “So … tell me more about how you plan to fuck me until I don’t know my name.”

His eyes darken. “You have no idea what I wanna do to you.”

“How about you enlighten me?” I love when he talks dirty, and right now, I need something to distract me from the ache of his absence. “C’mon, tell me. Gimme some of that take-chargey alpha shit you know I love.”

“Christ, Lena. You’re killing me. If I didn’t have this press tour, I’d be on a fucking plane right now.”

“Oh yeah? And what would happen once you got here?”

He rubs his jaw for a moment before speaking. “Well, I’d call you from the airport and tell you to take off your clothes.”

“Shocking,” I murmur, casually twirling a piece of my hair like his words aren’t going straight to my clit. “Here I thought maybe you’d wanna play a game of Monopoly when you arrived.”

A dark chuckle rumbles in his chest. “We can play Monopoly if you want. We can also play chess, checkers, or hell, even Candy Land.” He pauses for a few beats and reaches down to adjust himself. “But if you know what’s good for you, you’ll have that lush body spread out on your bed, wet and ready for me when I get there.”

I arch an eyebrow. “And why’s that?”

“So I can monopolize your pussy.”

“Well-played, Ace.” I snort a laugh. “You gonna collect your two hundred bucks?”

“More like two hundred fucks.” He’s got the devil in his eyes when he adds, “Think you can handle it?”

Yes, the fuck, I can.

“Bring it.” The rational side of my brain points out that he’s never been to my brownstone, and he doesn’t have a key. He knows my address, so he could find his way here, but still. I sure as hell won’t be answering the door stark naked—I’d give my nosey, elderly neighbors heart attacks—so we’ve reached a theoretical roadblock in his little plan. “But how will you get in? We don’t keep our doors unlocked around here.”

“You’ll leave a key under the mat for me, so I can let myself in.”

“What if I forget? And maybe I don’t have a mat,” I challenge, smirking at the thought of my Fuck off, I’m reading! doormat I’d flipped over so the trick-or-treaters wouldn’t see it. “How would you handle that situation?”

“Easy. I’ll break down the goddamn door.”

“I bet you’d be fuming if you had to do that. Even more so if you found me fully clothed, don’t you think?” I murmur, loving his growly tone and how he morphed from describing what he would do, to what he will do. A sexual inevitability.

“Furious,” he agrees, tilting his computer screen again. “I’d have to punish you for disobeying me.”

Um, yes, please.

“Punish me, how?”

“I’ll rip your clothes off and take you over my knee. Heat up my palms making that pretty arse of yours pink.”

My body is in flames, imagining how the scenario would play out. I know damn well he’d make good on his words, but I love pushing his buttons anyway. I want to make him lose control. While we’ve already had sex multiple times, he’s cognizant of his size and strength, so he holds himself back out of fear of hurting me. I know better. He won’t truly hurt me—my body was made for him. I’ll take what he gives me, and then some. I crave him full throttle. Raw and unhinged. I need him as feral and desperate for me as I am for him. Maybe I’m just as much of a beast as he is. Or maybe his intensity reminds me of what it’s like to feel alive. Whatever the case, I’m ready. The desire to unleash him is making me squirm.

“Promises, promises,” I taunt, nibbling my lower lip like a vixen who’s trying to feign innocence. “I’ll believe you when I get that spanking you keep claiming you’ll give me.”

“Mark my words, Lena. You’re gonna fucking get it.”

“Uh-huh. Then what?”

“I’ll throw you onto the bed and bury my face between your thighs.” He clenches his jaw. “Then lick your sweet pussy until you’re screaming my name.”

“Maybe I won’t be loud,” I counter with a wicked smirk because I love rattling his cage. “My downstairs neighbor wouldn’t appreciate that.”

My best friend lives on the bottom two floors of my brownstone. While I’ve overheard plenty of Garrett’s fuck fests, he’s never been on the receiving end, likely because I never knew what sex was supposed to feel like until I met Wes. Fuck fests of any variety are a novel concept in my life. Garrett may need to buy some noise-canceling headphones because something tells me payback is going to be a bitch.

“I don’t give a koala’s dick about Garrett. Let him call the cops if he wants.” He presses himself up onto his knees in front of the laptop, his muscular thighs spread open to show me his hard cock. “You’ll scream for me, sunshine. That’s a promise. And when you can’t take anymore, I’m gonna fuck you.”

“That so, Mr. Man-of-action?” I tease, wishing I could teleport into his room.

He grips the base of his cock. “See how hard you make me? Do you know how badly I wanna be inside you?”

As badly as I want you there? “Why don’t you tell me?”

“That bed you’re lying on?” Wes juts his chin toward the screen and strokes himself from base to tip, rubbing his thumb in circles over the thick head of his cock. “I’m gonna fuck you through the mattress.”

Heat pools in my lower belly, my pussy clenching with need. “Through it?”

“Yes, through it. And through the fucking floorboards too. Got news for you, sunshine. I don’t care if we crash through Garrett’s ceiling. Hell, if we land on his couch, we can watch a movie with him. Or, better yet, let him watch us. Think he’d go for that?”

Garrett lives and breathes sex. I have no doubt he’d enjoy watching people fuck, even if I were one of the participants. Unlike me, he has the uncanny ability to factor weirdness out of a situation. And while Wes is always the center of attention, my approach to the spotlight is one of fierce avoidance.

So why the hell does the idea of an audience—one that does not include my best friend, of course—suddenly exhilarate me?

Unable to decode my newfound exhibitionist urges, I focus on the practical. “Garrett’s like a brother to me. Besides, his living room isn’t below—”

“The point is, the next time I see you, I’m going to show you how much I’ve missed you. Over and over and over again. I’m gonna be so deep inside you, you’ll feel me in your chest. I don’t care if you pull my hair, claw my back, or bite me. We’ll keep going until neither of us can walk. I want your pussy sore and your voice hoarse from screaming my name.” His arm flexes as he strokes his hand up and down his cock. “That work for you?”

I open and close my mouth a few times. He has me so turned on, I can hardly breathe. Stringing words into a coherent sentence is out of the question. My body clenches in anticipation, and I don’t think I’ve ever been this wet. Wes has awakened something I never knew was hiding inside me. He calls out to my inner lioness, beckoning her closer with promises of pleasure. Empowerment and adoration. Make no mistake, this queen has finally claimed her throne.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He motions to the red vibrator beside me. “Whaddya say, sunshine? You ready for round two?”

If you enjoyed Queen Move, you’ll find much more Lena and Wes in my Compass Series. Book #1 is called True North: https://books2read.com/TrueNorth-AriaWyatt

About the Author

Aria Wyatt is a pharmacist mom who spends the inhumane predawn hours with a cup of coffee and her laptop, gleefully indulging in her passion for romance. Her novels range in heat from steamy to scorching, and she doesn’t shy away from writing flawed characters who face real life issues.

She resides with her husband and two children in New York’s picturesque Hudson Valley, near the Catskills and iconic Woodstock. The avid reader balances marriage, motherhood, her pharmacist career, and her romance author dream. When not writing, she dabbles in photography, using the natural beauty of the region to her advantage. She’s a self-proclaimed cat lady who cannot live without coffee, chocolate, music, and books.

Author of True North and the Compass Series, Aria has a soft spot for those who are searching, yearning, and ultimately, finding. Whether on a mission to find themselves, find love, find forgiveness or solace, she believes the answer is out there somewhere.

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THANK you for reading and for supporting our cause! As a woman in healthcare, I’m proud to be part of this important project and grateful to the amazing team of organizers, authors, and industry professionals who’ve made it happen.

Our bodies belong to us. We won’t stand in silence while we’re stripped of our rights. It’s queen move time.

BOUND BY BEAUTY

A BETRAYED BY BEAUTY HEAVEN’S GUARDIANS MC EXTENDED EPILOGUE

ASHLEY LANE

CHAPTER ONE

OAKLEY

THE SUDDEN, shrill ring of our doorbell sounded through the apartment followed immediately by a vicious right hook to my bladder from my overdue bundle of joy.

From my position on the couch, I glared at the front door and willed the lock to turn. When my telekinetic powers failed, I closed my eyes and tried for option B.

“Jesus, I know we haven’t always been on the best of terms… but if you could make her disappear just this once…” I hadn’t even finished my barter when the doorbell went off again. I guess that answered that.

I took a deep breath to quell my rising temper. Pregnancy is a beautiful experience… for some people. And then there’s me.

A girl passes out once at work and the world ends. Angel didn’t even wait for the ambulance to arrive before he threw me, with the care and precision of someone carrying a bomb about to detonate, into his truck and rushed me to the ER. Twelve hours later, I was living my best life being waited on hand and foot by my two men as I served what I thought would be the first of many easy days on bedrest.

The joke was on me. Color me surprised when I found out that it was actually not all that easy to park your pregnant whale ass on a couch every day for five months.

I’d left the apartment a grand total of twenty-two times in the past five months—all to go to doctors’ appointments—and I thought back on each of them regularly, reminiscing about life on the outside of my pregnancy prison.

The doorbell rang a third time and I knew if I didn’t get up to answer it, Mama would have lights rolling on every emergency service from here to Timbuk-fucking-tu.

I gave myself three rocks back and forth before hefting my massive weight off the couch. I glared at the offending piece of furniture as if it had personally wronged me. Maybe it had. I used to love that couch, until it unwillingly served as my prison cell. I knew I was being dramatic, but I was seventeen years pregnant with a future linebacker and by God, I had more than earned the right to dramatics.

Channeling Jax along the way, I hobbled on swollen ankles to the prison gate and snatched the door open without checking the peephole. There was no need. I knew who it was. She arrived every morning at the same time like clockwork. The lock had barely cleared the latch before she pushed her way inside.

“Good morning to you too, Mama.” The sarcasm in my voice couldn’t be missed, but like always, Mama Mendez took every ounce of pregnancy venom I could spew in stride.

“I told Jax that you wouldn’t have to come let me in each day if he would just give me my own key,” she grumbled as she slammed a carton of eggs onto the counter.

And I told Jax that if he ever gave his mother a key, not even Mama Mendez herself could save him from me. Looks like he took me seriously for once.

It had been almost a year since Angel and Jax had come into my life. Nine months since the first time I drank the soup which I’ve since come to call ‘Mama’s pregnancy potion’, (she still and forever would take full credit for the creation of her grandchild, as if having two virile bikers pumping me with swimmers every chance they got wasn’t cause enough) and seven months since I went to the doctor for the stomach flu. But instead of leaving with antibiotics, I left with enough prenatal vitamins that I could make a nun’s pregnancy test turn positive.

“What time is your appointment with Dr. Porter?” Mama asked, pulling me in for an awkward hug because of the sheer size of my bulging belly.

I closed my arms around her and soaked up the warmth and love she so freely gave. Those were the times that I couldn’t ignore the ache in my heart. What I wouldn’t give for my own mom to be with me in those moments. To hold me and tell me everything was going to be alright. I missed her more than anything, but I was also incredibly thankful that I had Mama. She was another thing on the endless list of what Angel and Jax had given me.

I stepped out of her embrace. “It’s not until after lunch,” I replied, hoping she didn’t catch my anxious tone.

She gave me a questioning look. “Is Angel taking you?”

I shook my head. “Jax is taking me this time. Angel has some things he needs to take care of with the club.”

She said something else but I didn’t hear her, suddenly too focused on the acrobat in my stomach. An especially painful jab had me doubling over, one hand going to support my poor kidney, the other gripping the countertop for dear life.

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take.” Any other time I would have cringed at how whiny I sounded, but I was beyond caring about anything other than getting this baby out of my uterus.

Mama cradled my beach ball and rubbed soothing circles along my aching round ligaments. “He will come when he’s ready and not a minute before.”

She said that to me every day and I wondered if she knew that I wanted to jab her in the eye each time.

Lost in my disturbingly violent and vivid daydream of causing my much loved mother-in-law bodily harm, I wasn’t prepared for the next round of kicks nor the rush of warm liquid that poured from between my legs.

Oh shit.

CHAPTER TWO

JAX

WE’RE SORRY, the mailbox for the person you are trying to reach is full. Please try again lat—. I stabbed the button on my steering wheel abruptly ending the call. If I had to hear that fucking robotic message one more time, swear to God I was going to track him down and spank his ass for every unanswered voicemail I’d left.

Despite my rising frustration and fear, there was no ignoring the tingle that spread through the palm of my hand nor the rush of blood to my dick.

Fuck. This was not the time.

Keeping one hand on the wheel, I lifted the other and ignored the visible tremor in my fingers as I attempted to rub away the tension forming between my brows.

Twelve minutes ago, I almost didn’t answer when I saw Mama’s name on my caller ID. But the old bird was persistent and I knew she would call right back until our morning chat was out of the way.

As soon as she said my name, I knew something was wrong.

I planted my foot on the gas until I was going twenty miles over the speed limit, praying like fuck I didn’t get myself killed before I got to see the birth of my child.

Holy shit. The birth of my child.

This was it. It was finally here. Oakley’s pregnancy had passed painfully slow for all of us. I’ll never admit it aloud for fear of losing certain appendages, but as hard as it was on Oakley, it was just as difficult for Maddox and me.

Oakley may have been tasked with growing our baby and keeping him safe and sound, but Maddox and I were constantly plagued with worry over not only our son, but our wife as well. We would be men consumed by grief if we ever lost either one of them… but the possibility that we could lose them both nearly drove us mad with fear.

Stomach rolling, I adjusted my grip on the wheel seeking a bite of pain that I knew would pull me back from the dark direction of my thoughts. My wedding band squeezed into my finger, pinching the sensitive skin and providing the reprieve I needed.

We’d been married nearly seven months and I still caught myself staring in awe at the black titanium band. For me, there was never any question on who would marry who. Maddox had spent nearly his entire life in search of a family of his own making. One that would accept and love him for who he was. Yes, he’d found a brotherhood within the MC but it was about more than that.

He longed for the binding promise of forever. So that’s what I gave him.

Standing by his side, I held his hand as we watched Oakley walk down the aisle to him… to us. There, the three of us bound ourselves together as husbands and wife. Since Angel got the privilege of being the one legally bound to Oakley, I decided to give them both something of mine. And until my dying breath, I’ll never forget the way the world stopped the first time we were introduced as Mrs and Mr’s Mendez for the first time.

My phone rang through the Bluetooth in my truck and this time I accepted the call without checking the caller ID.

“Hey babe, I just saw your missed cal—”

“Where the hell have you been, Maddox?” My voice was harsh, laden with the fear I was trying desperately to keep at bay.

Maddox was instantly on alert. “What—“

I interrupted him again. “I’m on the way to the hospital. Mama called, Oakley’s water broke about twenty seven minutes ago.”

I heard a crash in the background and I had a moment of pause wondering if I should have called Priest to drive Madd. As much as Oakley and I needed him here, we wanted him to arrive at the hospital as a visitor, not a patient.

“Maybe I should call,” I started but he interrupted me.

“No. Listen to me, I’ll be fine. I’m leaving Corrupt right now and I’ll meet you in Labor and Delivery.” I latched onto the steady tone of his voice.

“I’m scared.” I felt like such a pussy admitting that to him. After all, I wasn’t the one about to push a baby out of my body. But it didn’t change the fact that I was terrified of what the next hours would bring. We couldn’t lose her… we couldn’t lose either of them.

“It’s okay to be scared, Jax. That’s our wife, our son. It would be more worrying if you weren’t scared. But she’s the strongest person I know, and that baby inside of her that’s part you or me, the other part her—he’s the strongest one of all.”

A beat of silence passed before he continued. “Now pull yourself together and focus on the road. I’ll see you soon, Daddy.”

CHAPTER THREE

ANGEL

I PARKED my bike in a designated Labor and Delivery visitor space in the parking deck. Pocketing my keys, I ran full speed through the double doors that would lead me to my wife and husband. And soon, our son.

Never in my life had I run so fast toward something that scared the absolute shit out of me. While I was scared as fuck about being a dad, I had never been more sure about anything in my entire life. Already, the love I felt for my son was so overwhelming there were times I thought I would drown in it.

The hospital had top notch security, a detail I loved when we toured the facility the first time. But what once was a comfort, was now a pain in my ass as the guard dog nurse manning the door wouldn’t let me through.

“I’m sorry sir, my records indicate that Mrs. Mendez’s husband is already inside with her. As she’s in active labor, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until after the baby is born for your visit.”

“Listen lady, I know you think you’re just doing your job, but if you don’t let me inside in the next twenty seconds, I am going to make a scene that I’m sure we’d all like to avoid.”

The nurse paled and dropped her eyes to my cut, eyeing it with fear. Her hand moved toward what I was sure was a silent alarm and the muscles in my shoulders bunched in preparation to fight my way inside.

Just before she could reach her destination, the double doors behind her opened revealing my husband. I smirked inside knowing that nurse Rambo was about to get one hell of a show. Stress made my man handsy, and there was nothing more stressful than having to stand by and watch as our wife brought our child into the world.

Nurse Ratchet turned, her worry bleeding into satisfaction at seeing Jax. Her posture relaxed as false glory settled in. To her credit, she attempted to push down the wrinkled smirk. “Oh, Mr. Mendez, perfect timing. I was just explaining to this gentleman that he would need to wait until after your wife gave birth to visit. But since you’re here, I’m sure you would like to tell him yourself.”

Jax stared at me, his chest heaving and lifted a questioning brow.

Oh yeah, he was ready to put on a show.

A subtle nod was the only indication he needed before stepping forward and pulling me into his arms.

Our mouths met in an explosion of tension and emotion. Jax’s large, roughened hand cradled the nape of my neck, his thumb stroked my thrumming pulse as his fingers pressed firmly against the back of my neck anchoring my lips to his own.

When he finally pulled back, we were both breathing heavily and our semi hard cocks were perfectly aligned between us, thankfully hidden by our bodies.

He gave me a quick once-over asserting that I was okay before his dark depths lifted to settle on something over my shoulder.

“Nurse Richman, if you could please give my husband a visitor’s pass. I’m certain our wife is wondering where we are.” Venom dripped from each word and if Nurse Bitchman hadn’t been such a, well… bitch, I may have actually felt sorry for her.

The double doors opened once again and Jax gave me a gentle shove forward. “Go, I’ll get your pass and bring it to you. Room 411.”

I moved quickly down the hall while searching for the room number. Why the fuck do they need so many rooms? There can’t seriously be this many women having babies. I glanced up when I neared the end of the hall to see Oakley’s room up ahead, but I was stopped in my tracks by doctors and nurses running past me.

Alarms blared and someone called out a code over the intercoms. As I took another tentative step forward, the frantic team rushed into a room… not just any room, Oakley’s room.

“Fuck!”

My attempt to get into the room was abruptly halted by a pair of small, soft hands against my heaving chest. “I’m sorry sir, but we need to get her to the operating room now.”

“Operating room? Is she—Oakley!” I shouted over the alarms and frantic commands of doctors and nurses.

“Angel?” Oakley’s voice shook, but hearing it… hearing her, alive and well gave me the strength to rein in my panic. Over the chaos, I caught her eye. “I’m right here, beautiful. Everything’s gonna be okay, you hear me?”

As Oakley’s bed was wheeled past me, I snatched her hand and gave it a quick squeeze before releasing it and taking the offered scrubs from one of the nurses. “Here you go, Dad. Put these on and someone will come get you once we have her set up.”

Frantically, I pulled on the scrubs, my eyes scanning the hall for Jax as I followed the team toward the operating room. Before I could make it inside, shouting caught my attention and I turned to find Jax racing toward me. “Where is she?” Jax choked out, panic evident in his eyes.

My menacing glare aimed directly at the nursing staff had them stepping back as Jax gripped my hands. They were obviously smarter than they looked. Or maybe prey always recognized a predator.

“They rushed her to the operating room. They haven’t told me what’s going on.” Still holding Jax’s hand, I pulled him to where the nurse told me to wait. I rummaged through the cabinets until I found another pair of scrubs and pulled them out for Jax to put on. Minutes later, a nurse appeared.

“Erm… so only one of you can go in.” I was about to inform her that under no circumstances were we not both going to be in there, but my impending tirade was cut off by the growl of our fierce lioness.

“If you don’t let both my husbands into this room right now, I swear on all that is holy, I will—” Oakley’s sinister threat was cut off by a heartbreaking sob. “Please,” she begged, “I can’t do this without them.”

Fuck fuck fuck. Before the nurse could breathe another word, Jax and I were ushered quickly inside the operating room where we took our places on either side of Oakley’s head. Jax smoothed back her sweat dampened hair, and I leaned in to get my first good look at my wife.

“You look so fucking beautiful,” I said when our eyes met.

Oakley gave a half-hearted laugh that quickly transformed into a sob. “What if something’s wrong? They—they said that his heart rate was dropping with my contractions, and with him being overdue…” she trailed off.

“Hey, don’t talk like that. You see his daddies? Our boy is so damn strong, baby. He probably just can’t wait to meet his gorgeous Mama is all.”

Encouraged by the nurse to take deep, calming breaths, Oakley nodded as the doctor told us he was about to begin. Long, tense minutes passed before he told us we could watch our son being born. Following his instructions, Jax stood taller to look over the sheet as the doctor pulled a healthy, screaming baby from our wife’s belly.

Jax squeezed both our hands as he got a first look at our boy. While he watched over our son, I focused on Oakley.

“You did good, Mama.” Overcome with the wave of emotions, I had no chance of stopping the tears that streamed down my face. “You did good.”

CHAPTER FOUR

OAKLEY

THE SOFTEST WHIMPER I’d ever heard pulled me from the best sleep I’d had in months. I lifted my head to follow the sound and found my husbands wrapped around each other, between them, the sweetest bundle of pink I’d ever seen.

That’s right. Pink.

Maddelyn Quinn Mendez.

When the ultrasound tech told us at sixteen weeks that the baby was being shy, she spent ten minutes determined to give us a glimpse of our baby’s gender. We didn’t see much at all, but she was confident we were having a boy, and we were ecstatic.

We’d spent months preparing for a lifetime of skinned knees, lifted toilet seats, and all things blue.

The moment I spied the tiny pink bundle, I couldn’t remember a single bit of it. In an instant it was all replaced with ruffles, ballet slippers, and a rainbow of pastel pinks.

I lifted my eyes from my sleeping babe to find my husbands focused solely on me. The emotion shining through them took my breath away.

From the moment we found out we were expecting, Angel and Jax were both adamant about not having any genetic testing done to find out who the biological father was. It didn’t matter to them. It sounded so cliche, but all we truly wanted was a healthy baby.

But looking at the soft wisps of blonde hair that peeked out from under her hat, there was no denying who her daddy was.

Being careful of our sleeping princess, Angel unwrapped himself from Jax’s arms. He triple checked that our girl was safe and secure in her dad’s arms before he climbed into the hospital bed and snuggled up beside me. “Thank you,” he whispered before pressing a long slow kiss to my lips.

My husband once believed that he was betrayed by beauty.

But today, beauty gave us something greater than anything it had ever taken.

It gave us her.

See how it all began…

Heaven’s Guardians MC

About the Author

Ashley Lane lives in the small town of Gray, Georgia with her husband and two sons. Being the mom of 12 and 5 year old boys means she lives off iced coffee and cereal crumbs.

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SYMPHONY OF CHAOS

A HOLLYWOOD DEMONS SHORT STORY

AUTUMN JONES LAKE

If you’ve read the Hollywood Demons trilogy, the events in this story happen about two years after the final chapter in Wheels of Fire. If you’re meeting Chaser and Mallory for the first time, welcome to their world!

CHAPTER ONE

CHASER

THE INCESSANT WHUMP, whump, whump of helicopters overhead invades my sleep. Mallory’s warm body is snuggled close to mine. But something about her breathing or her rigid posture drags me fully awake.

“What’s wrong?” I whisper, blinking at the light spilling around the curtains.

“Today is going to be utter chaos.” Worry amplifies the slight Russian accent she’s tried hard to hide in Hollywood.

I slide my arm under her body and pull her closer. “It doesn’t matter.” I kiss her forehead. “None of it matters.”

She wriggles, closing the small gap between us, presses her cheek against my chest, and throws one arm around my waist. “It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding,” she murmurs, her soft, warm breath tickling my bare skin.

“Good thing we’re already married.”

She props her chin on my chest and stares up at me with big, serious eyes. “Those memories of our perfect day will be the only thing keeping me sane all afternoon.”

“Same, little dove.”

The horde of my Devil Demons MC brothers who descended upon our Hollywood Hills home earlier in the week had been bad enough. Mallory’s Russian mafia boss of a father—fresh out of prison—coming to town gave the tabloids fodder for days.

Motorcycle clubs and mafia families hanging out together seem to make law enforcement nervous. The FBI had visited Mallory on the set of her show. They also stopped by the studio where I was recording a track for another artist to ask a bunch of questions I didn’t have answers to.

Part of me can’t help wondering if Anatoly DeLova did this on purpose. As a way to force his daughter out of Hollywood and back home under his thumb.

I don’t bother sharing that theory with Mallory. She’s too stressed for conspiracies this morning.

The phone next to the bed rings and Mallory rolls away, yanking it out of the cradle. “Yes.”

A high-pitched whine fires off a bunch of words. Sounds like Mallory’s agent. I can’t make out what she’s saying but she’s definitely not calling to wish us luck on our wedding day.

Mallory slams the phone down and sits up. “Scout Southgate is threatening to enforce the morality clause in my contract and have me written out of Ocean Ave. I can’t believe this is happening. Again.”

I sit up and rub my hand over her back. “Pretty bold move considering we’re having this circus of a wedding at his estate.” I gesture to the ornate room we stayed in last night. “Because he thought it would bring great PR to the show.”

“Well, it’s getting covered by the media but not the way he thought it would.” Her jaw sets in a firm line. “Those post-prison interviews my father sat for didn’t help at all.”

No, they didn’t. Neither have the hundreds of Devil Demons roaring on their Harleys through downtown LA. I love my club and appreciate their support, but the spectacle has brought two parts of my life together in a public and jarring way.

“Let’s just pray our fathers don’t kill each other today.”

Mallory glances over her shoulder. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not laughing.” Mallory’s father would love nothing more than to stop this wedding.

“As long as my father doesn’t find out we’re already married,” Mallory says.

Anatoly’s feelings are the last thing I’m worried about. There are already rumors the fucker tried to put a hit on me to stop me from marrying his daughter. My father hasn’t been able to track down anything solid yet.

I’ll have to watch my back until we finally say “I do” in front of everyone.

CHAPTER TWO

MALLORY

SHARING all my worries with Chaser somehow makes them fade away. I lean against him, taking comfort from his strength. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me. We’ll get through today, then jet out of town for our honeymoon.”

“Our second honeymoon,” I remind him.

He grins at me. “I’m not complaining.”

How did I get so lucky to marry this amazing man not once, but twice?

The relentless thump of helicopter blades returns, souring our sweet moment. I glance up as if I can see through the ceiling to the sky. “What a nightmare.”

He waves his hand in the air in a dismissive gesture. “All this gossip will die down while we’re away. They’ll hound someone else in no time.”

I doubt that. My gut tells me my father’s using our wedding to strengthen his criminal alliances. To show his associates that he didn’t lose his grip on power while he was in prison. And I’m sure Chaser’s father is doing something similar. The Devil Demons MC has at least two charters in California.

Someone knocks on our bedroom door. “Mallory!”

“It’s Madeline.” I throw the covers back and grab a robe.

Chaser rolls his eyes and gets out of bed, heading for the bathroom. Madeline’s become one of his least favorite people.

“Morning.” I open the door to find a newspaper with “Two Crime Families Merge: Mafia Princess to Wed Motorcycle Gang Prince” splashed across the top.

“Ugh, really?” I snatch the paper out of Madeline’s hand, crumpling it in the process.

“My father’s having kittens,” she says.

“So I hear,” I snap.

She pauses and studies me. “I won’t let him fire you from the show, Mallory.”

So it’s true. Great. “Why would he fire me? I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I know, I know!” She holds up her hands as if I accused her of stealing my underwear. “I’ll talk to him.”

The buzz of another helicopter vibrates overhead.

“We’ll do everything we can to keep reporters off the property and away from you.” She points up. “The helicopters are a problem, though. I sent someone out to buy balloons.”

I’m not sure what that will accomplish but she says it like it’s the most natural solution to the problem. “Thank you.”

She leans in and hugs me. “Hurry. Cindy will be here soon.”

I’ll need a map to find the room Madeline said I’d be using as a “bridal suite” today. “I’ll grab my things and head down in a few minutes.”

“Great. I’ll make sure there’s something for you to nibble on.”

My stomach lurches. I don’t think I could eat if someone put a gun to my head.

After she leaves, I close the door—double-checking the locks. I toss the paper on a small side table. I don’t need to read an article about my criminal family, I’ve already lived it.

The patter of water on tile reaches me and I hurry to join Chaser. He already has the glass box full of steam when I enter the bathroom.

“Coming in?” he asks.

“May I?”

He pushes the door open and leans out, a sinful smirk curling his lips. “Anytime, wife.”

Two years we’ve been secretly married. Two years, and a thrill still runs through me every single time he calls me “wife.”

Since he’s still watching, I turn and slowly slide the robe down, stopping to peek at him over my shoulder.

He rumbles a growly noise of approval. “That’s enough teasing. Get in here.”

Laughing, I drop the robe on the counter and hurry to him. He takes my hand and helps me into the shower.

“That’s better.” He pulls me against his slippery chest and leans down, running the tip of his nose along my jaw. He stops beneath my ear, his mouth teasing my skin. Warm water rains over us. My knees weaken. His lips trail down the side of my neck, stopping to stroke his tongue against my pulse. I let out a shaky sigh and fully lean into him.

One strong arm remains clamped around my waist as he reaches behind him to shut off the water.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re doing this backward. Let’s get dirty first, then clean,” he explains, opening the shower door. He steps out, then offers his hand. Water drips from our bodies, splashing onto the gleaming, white tile floor. I reach for a neatly folded towel on the counter.

“Later.” Chaser swings me into his arms and marches us into the bedroom.

“We’re soaking wet,” I laugh, teasing my fingers through his damp, dark hair.

“I know.” He drops me on the bed. I hurry to the center of the giant king-sized mattress, watching him prowl along the edge. Intense eyes lock on mine. He lifts his chin. “Move up by the pillows.”

I scoot back until our soft wall of pillows stops me. “What are you doing?”

Chaser responds with a kiss against my thigh. “I need a few moments with you,” he jerks his head toward the door, “before all of that.”

“What for?” I tease. It’s obvious what he has in mind.

“You’ll see.” His sinful voice drips with the promise of orgasms. “Relax for me.”

He presses a knee into the mattress, coming for me like a sensual predator.

A shiver of anticipation prickles over my skin.

He wraps his hand around my ankle and tugs. “Open.”

I lean back, resting on my elbows and part my legs. He nuzzles against me, trailing kisses along my inner thigh. Every few kisses, he flicks his gaze up, devouring me with his eyes.

Then he devours me with his mouth. Licking and sucking—oh my, that feels amazing. My back bows, and I twine my fingers in his hair. He’s relentless, licking and nipping, driving me wild until I’m gasping and shifting my hips up to get closer.

“There, there,” I beg as my back arches and I push my hips higher.

He flicks his tongue against my clit, soft at first. Heat builds in my center, racing over my skin. “Ch…Ch…”

He clamps his hands over my thighs, keeping me pinned open and lashing me with his tongue over and over.

My toes curl. Heat builds and rushes through my body. My fingers tighten in his hair. Stars pulse behind my eyelids. I squeeze my legs tight, probably crushing Chaser.

When I can draw a breath, I open my eyes and peer down at his satisfied smile. He kisses my thigh, then moves to my hip, my stomach. His bright eyes meet mine, promising more. I hold out my arms, urging him closer.

“God, I love the sounds you make.” He settles over me and kisses my cheek, my forehead, and finally my lips. “Wasn’t that a better way to start the morning?”

My racing heart and tingling skin haven’t slowed. I raise my legs, wrapping them around his waist. “Yes, but I hope we’re not finished.”

“Never.”

HALF AN HOUR LATER, I’m slipping into a lavender button-down shirt when someone else knocks on our door.

“I got it this time,” Chaser says. Wearing nothing but jeans, he tosses a T-shirt over his shoulder and opens the door.

“Today’s the day, son.” Stump’s big, booming voice fills the room. I hurry to the door to greet my father-in-law.

“Morning, Princess.” Stump clasps his big hands over my shoulders and draws me closer, dropping a quick, fatherly kiss on my forehead. “Ready for this?”

I press my hand to my stomach. “Not really.” I cast a glance down the long hallway. “I’m worried about my—”

“Don’t worry about a thing, Mallory. Everything’s under control,” he promises.

“I’m sorry about—”

“Don’t.” He holds up one finger as if he’s about to press it to my lips. “You’re not responsible for your father’s actions.” He curls a hand around Chaser’s neck and draws him closer. “You make my son happy. That’s all that matters.”

I bite the inside of my cheek to stop the smile threatening to break loose. Stump didn’t always feel that way about me. By the wry tilt to Chaser’s lips, I bet he’s having the same thought. He winks at me as his father releases him.

“Put on a damn shirt.” Stump waves a meaty hand at Chaser. “Have some class.”

Chaser snorts and pulls his shirt over his head. “I was getting dressed when you showed up to spread your special brand of cheer.”

“Ingrate,” Stump snorts. “Come on. The high-strung one says Mallory’s supposed to be downstairs getting hair and makeup done.” Stump rolls his eyes my way. “Don’t know why. You’re beautiful just like you are.”

Warmth spreads over my cheeks. “Thanks, Pop.”

Stump may not have been thrilled about Chaser and me in the beginning. But somehow in the short amount of time I’ve known Stump Adams, he’s treated me with more fatherly kindness than my own father has shown me in my entire life.

Tally and a few of Chaser’s MC brothers I don’t recognize join us. I cast a quick glance at the Devil Demons MC cuts every member is wearing and secretly snicker at what my father’s reaction will be. The more sobering thought of what all the guests downstairs will think follows. Industry people. Actors I work with. Producers. Directors.

It doesn’t matter. If I’m forced to make a choice, I’ll choose family over Hollywood. I hope Chaser never doubts that.

Chaser shakes hands and gets a few backslaps from everyone. He introduces brothers from the Southern California charter. I smile, say hello, and try to remember everyone’s names.

An elevator dings from further down the hallway. A few seconds later, Alvin joins our party in the hallway. Happy to see another familiar face, I lean up and give him a quick hug.

Chaser hooks his arm over Alvin’s shoulders. “Torrin, you remember my drummer and best friend Chipmunk.”

Alvin rolls his eyes at the nickname he’ll apparently never shed. When Chaser finishes the round of introductions, he slaps Tally’s shoulder. “Will you and Chipmunk walk Mallory down to her bridal suite?”

“Yeah, brother,” Tally answers. “Whatever you need.”

“I hope you know where it is,” I say. “I’m all turned around.”

Alvin pulls a wrinkled piece of paper from his back pocket. “Madeline gave me this map.” He moves closer, so we can both look at the crude drawing. “You’re supposed to be here.” He points to an area marked with a red star that must be somewhere on the first floor. “Chaser’s here.” He points to a green star that appears to be on the opposite side of the mansion from where I’ll be getting ready.

Alvin winks at Chaser. “We’re getting ready above the wine cellar. I don’t think they thought that one through.”

Tally chuckles.

“I don’t need an escort.” I glance at the map again, confident I can locate the room now. “I’ll find my way there.”

Chaser’s lips flatten. “I don’t want you going anywhere by yourself.” His tone doesn’t leave it up for discussion.

“I need to talk to you,” Stump says to Chaser.

Sounds like my cue to leave. “Let me grab my bag.” I push into our room and gather my few items.

Chaser steps in with me, closing the door behind him.

“What are you doing?” I motion toward the hallway. “Didn’t your father want to talk to you?”

“He can wait.” He steps closer, brushing his knuckles under my chin. “Are you okay?”

“Just nervous.” I press my hands to my stomach. “I should be used to having terrible things written about me but having reporters digging into my father’s business leaves me feeling guilty and exposed. And I didn’t even do anything wrong.”

He frowns. “Don’t worry, they’re having a field day with all the big, dirty bikers attending the wedding too.”

“Sure.” I poke him in the stomach. “But it only enhances your bad boy rock star image.”

He nods to concede the point. “It’s not fair, but you’re right.” He glances at the door. “Speaking of bad boys, Chipmunk says Garrett brought Pamela as his date, and Andrew’s lurking around without a date.”

I groan and flick my gaze toward the ceiling. “Why’d we invite him again?”

Chaser cocks his head. Business reasons force us to remain friends with Andrew. To his credit, he’s behaved. I’ll still never trust him completely, though.

CHAPTER THREE

CHASER

“EARTH TO CHASER.” My father snaps his fingers in front of my nose.

I tear my gaze away from Mallory wedged in between two of my closest friends. While I trust them to look out for her, I’d rather be by her side, keeping her safe.

“What?” I swat my father’s hand out of my face.

He pushes me inside our room. The brothers from our SoCal charter follow.

“I didn’t want to talk about this in front of Mallory, but I worked out some things with DeLova,” my father announces.

“Already?”

He cocks his head. As annoying as all the publicity has been, the papers aren’t necessarily wrong. The heads of two East Coast criminal organizations are using our wedding to widen their networks.

My father slaps Torrin’s shoulder. “SoCal will help DeLova’s crew set up distribution here , and Vasily will probably visit more often to keep an eye on things. But he’s not to go near either one of you for any reason.”

Why am I not reassured?

“He shouldn’t even be at our wedding,” I say. Mallory’s father insisted his lieutenant—or whatever the fuck Vasily’s title is—needed to be here today. Never mind the guy thinks he should be the one to marry my wife one day. Hope he enjoys the show.

“He’d be suicidal to try anything,” my father says.

I hold up one hand. “Anything else I need to know?”

“No,” Torrin says, casting a glance at my father.

“I’m telling you this so you don’t worry. DeLova has too much to lose if he fucks with you,” my father explains.

“I’m not worried about myself. I can handle Mallory’s father. I’m worried about what all of this,” I wave my hands in the air, indicating the whole event, “will do to Mallory’s career. They’re threatening to write her off the show—”

“We can take care of that.” The corner of Torrin’s mouth lifts and he slams his fist into the palm of his hand.

Yeah, that’ll make things better. “Appreciate the offer, but I don’t think it will help.”

I grab my wallet, keys, and take a quick look around the room. My thumb automatically rubs my ring finger where my wedding band usually rests. Mallory will be giving it back to me at the ceremony but I still feel naked without it. I pat my pocket where the box holding her ring is safely nestled.

“Let’s go.”

NO ONE NEEDS to venture into the wine cellar. A whole bar has been laid out in the groom’s suite. I need all my senses to get through the rest of the afternoon, so I haven’t touched anything but water. Doesn’t stop everyone else from enjoying themselves.

“We’ve encountered a lot of money people out here.” Alvin tosses a handful of M&Ms in his mouth. “But this place is rich-rich,” he mumbles around the candy. “Like, generations of wealth.”

“Yeah.” One of many reasons I don’t trust Madeline or her megalomaniac television producer father. “Madeline told Mallory her father used to have snow trucked in and spread over the front lawn for Christmas when she was little.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” Alvin chomps on another handful of candy. “Why not just take the private jet somewhere snowy?”

I’d had the same thought when I heard the story.

Alvin picks up the tie I am apparently wearing today and twists it into a noose. “I liked your beach wedding better,” he says in a low voice.

I reach over and snatch the tie out of his hands. “So did I.”

Tally tugs the tie out of my hands and swings it around his head like a lasso. “You know the club’s still gonna make you throw another big party next time you come home, right?”

“I expect nothing less.” I glance around the room. “Where’s the can?”

Tally jerks his head toward the door. “Down the hall.” He sets the tie on the dresser and falls in step with me.

“Wait.” I press a palm to his chest, stopping him in his tracks. “I don’t need an escort to the bathroom.”

“DeLova’s guys are crawling all over this place.”

“We have them outnumbered four to one. He’s not going to touch me.” I take my hand off his chest but keep it in front of him. “I don’t need you to hold my damn dick.”

“Whatever.” Tally raises his hands in the air. “Something happens to you, your dad will have my head.”

He and Alvin follow me into the hallway but at least that’s where they stay.

A brass plate screwed into the wall indicates the bathroom. I slam my palm against the shiny, dark wood swinging door. Inside looks like it wants to imitate a five-star European hotel but misses the mark by fifteen gold fixtures too many. Four stalls with heavy floor-to-ceiling doors, a long marble counter with a mirror and bright lights. Tacky as all hell.

After taking care of my needs, I’m washing my hands at the sink, staring in the mirror.

How the hell did we end up here?

I want this circus over. A few weeks away from all the madness alone with my wife. It’s not too much to ask for, is it?

Creak.

In the mirror, I stare at the four stall doors behind me. Is one of them open now?

The bathroom door opens.

Vasily.

It’s been a while, but he looks as clueless as I remember.

“That is what you are wearing?” he sneers.

I glance down at my black jeans and T-shirt. “Haven’t gotten changed yet, but thanks for your interest in my outfit.” I yank a paper towel off a stack on the counter and dry my hands. “I’m not in the market for a stylist but Mallory might be able to help you with your new career path.”

“Always running your mouth.” He steps closer.

He can’t be serious? The last time he went after me, I left him on the floor unconscious. And now, with his boss and my father working together, he’d be nuts to try and work out some petty grudge.

Even so, I turn to face him, keeping my feet apart, hands loose at my sides. Got no problem laying this fucker out again.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch movement in the mirror.

Rough cloth slips over my head, blocking my vision.

“Motherfucker.” Instead of trying to rip the hood off, I kick out, slamming my foot into the leg of whoever’s behind me.

He screams and punches my side. I scrabble to get the fabric out of my way.

Another fist slams into my stomach. I gasp and wretch, desperately trying to pull in air. I sense another blow and grab the hand, giving it a vicious twist.

Vasily yelps and curses.

An arm wraps around my neck and squeezes tight, tight…tighter.

CHAPTER FOUR

MALLORY

THE BRIDAL SUITE was bustling with people in and out of it when I arrived.

Madeline should’ve been a drill sergeant. “Come on. We don’t have a lot of time,” she insists when I take too long going over the makeup options with Cindy.

I left my Swatch at home, but the gaudy, gold clock on the mauve wall to my right says we have at least a couple of hours. “It’s okay. We’re going for something simple,” I say, hoping she’ll chill out.

Madeline clamps down on my shoulder. “Your friend Audrey is here.”

“Oh good.” I turn, searching for Audrey. I could use her calming presence.

An hour later, I’m fully made up and Cindy’s finishing my hair. Most of the other girls in my “bridal party” are friends of Madeline’s or people from the show. Madeline’s father wanted to show the world the cast of Ocean Ave. is all one big, happy family to combat some of the rumors about his daughter’s behavior on the set. While I get along with everyone, we’re not particularly close. My experiences in Hollywood have taught me very few people can be trusted.

“How is your father handling everything?” Audrey asks, pulling a pink velvet chair closer to mine.

“Not great,” I admit. My gaze skips to Madeline and the other girls clustered around a large wall mirror. “Are they treating you okay?” I ask quietly.

She shrugs. “I couldn’t care less what Madeline Southgate thinks of me.” She lowers her voice and tilts her head toward the door. “I just hope I don’t run into any former clients out there.”

“Doug will be with you. And I let my father-in-law know you’re important to me, so he’ll keep an eye on you too.”

She lifts two thin, sculpted eyebrows. “Now I understand why your husband’s so damn fearless.”

I snort-giggle into my hand. “That’s one way to describe Chaser.”

“Generous with the orgasms is another way to describe him!” Madeline yells across the room.

My cheeks heat but I force a quick smile. “That too.”

Audrey rolls her eyes and squeezes my hand.

“We’re going to check on things out there. You good, Mallory?” Madeline asks.

I nod quickly and wave to her.

“You’re a saint for putting up with her shenanigans,” Cindy mutters, as she carefully twirls a chunk of my hair around a thin curling iron.

“I appreciate her family planning and hosting this whole thing,” I say with a practiced smile. For an actress, I really should try to sound more convincing.

“Hmm,” Cindy grumbles, working on another curl.

After another hour of painstakingly curling, pinning, and spraying my hair, Cindy declares that I’m finished.

“Let’s get you into that dress.” Audrey stands and claps her hands. “Is Madeline coming back to help us?”

“I don’t know. We should be able to do it.”

Cindy fluffs the train of the dress. “All right.”

Barefoot, I glide over the thick carpet and study the dress. It’s been a few weeks since I tried it on. “I hope I still fit into it.”

“You’ll be fine.” Cindy waves her hand. “Hurry.”

Careful not to chip my perfectly painted French manicure, I unbutton my blouse and toss it over a chair. Then I shimmy out of my leggings. Holding Audrey’s hand for balance, I step into the dress. Audrey helps me into the long, lacy sleeves while Cindy tugs on the laces at the back.

“Oh, it’s beautiful, Mallory.” Audrey takes a step back.

“I feel a little naked.” Even though it’s floor-length, the dress is constructed entirely of white lace, panels of sheer white material, and pink embroidered flowers. More skin than I realized peeks out from between the lacy design.

“No, you’re covered.” Audrey cups her breasts and squeezes. “It’s designed to show off your fabulous ta-tas.”

I chuckle and glance down. “Lord, if I drop anything in my cleavage, I’ll never see it again.”

Laughing, Cindy carefully tugs the laces at my back into place. “I like the pink embroidery. Very subtle.”

“Thanks. Wearing solid white didn’t feel right, all things considered,” I laugh.

Cindy chuckles. “All right. Veil.”

They have me sit in front of the mirror again. I try not to breathe too deeply as Cindy fixes the veil into place. “Perfect.”

Two sharp, quick knocks against the door draw our attention away from the mirror. Audrey hurries to answer, then groans.

“It’s Andrew,” she announces.

Anxiety twists my stomach. He shouldn’t be here.

Why is he here?

CHAPTER FIVE

CHASER

DAMPNESS.

The whir of a machine.

Cold.

Several parts of my body ache.

Whispers in another language. Russian?

Vasily. He and one of his pals knocked me out. And brought me fuck only knows where.

My fingers tingle and I jerk my hand, only to find it stuck to something.

I blink.

Murky darkness. I squint, trying to see through the material covering my face.

“You awake, Mr. Rock Star?” a thick Russian accent asks in a snide tone.

Fabric rustles and the hood is yanked off my head. Rows and rows of wine bottles line the walls. I glance down. Wrists bound to the arms of a chair. I kick but my leg doesn’t move. My ankles are also bound to the chair.

“The fuck are you doing, Vasily?” I rasp.

“What should have been done a long time ago.” Vasily’s fist slams into the side of my face with the force of a wrecking ball.

The whole chair rocks sideways.

He’s a powerful motherfucker when my hands are tied and I’m unable to defend myself.

I lean all my weight in the opposite direction, righting the chair. “Mallory’s gonna be pissed if my face is all bruised up in our wedding photos,” I warn, wiggling my jaw from side to side.

“My apologies.” He slams his fist into my gut.

All the air rushes out of me. For what seems like an eternity, I can’t draw a breath.

Vasily’s face twists into a deranged sneer. “That better?”

“Much,” I gasp. “Thanks.”

So much for my father’s promise that everything is under control.

“You think you’re still marrying her?” Vasily seethes, shaking out his punching hand. “Biker scum. You’re not worthy of kissing her feet.”

“Couldn’t agree with you more.” I suck in a deep breath. “Thank fuck she loves me anyway.”

“She’s too dumb to know better.”

“You don’t know a damn thing about her.” Even though my head and face are throbbing, I twist, trying to map out my location. Door? Window? How the hell do I get out? Who else is down here with us?

Vasily rests his hands on his knees and bends down to get in my face. “She will never be your wife.”

“That’s what this is about?” I choke and sputter with laughter even as pain crackles along my jaw. “Joke’s on you, big guy. She’s already my wife.”

Vasily staggers backward. Guess it never occurred to him that we might have eloped and this whole wedding is for show.

“What are you talking about?” he whispers.

“Did you really think you’d…what? Kill me and my club wouldn’t notice? Then you’d run off into the sunset with my wife?”

His mouth twists with disgust.

“Is kicking off a war with the Devil Demons MC how you plan to soothe your ego? Because you lost a woman—who was never yours to begin with—to some dirty biker?” I laugh even harder. “Anatoly’s out of his mind for giving you authority to do anything but spit shine his shoes.”

“Is that what you think?” another voice echoes out of the darkness.

Speak of the devil. Should’ve known the old fucker wasn’t far away.

“Hey, father-in-law.” I smirk in the direction of his voice. “You come to put the bullet in me yourself? Can’t let this clown do your dirty work, now can you?”

Vasily slams his fist into the other side of my face. The tang of blood fills my mouth. I glare up at him. “You’re going to pay for that, motherfucker.” I spit at his feet.

“Enough. Leave,” Anatoly says to Vasily, ignoring my question. Expecting to be obeyed, he doesn’t wait to see if Vasily follows the command.

Sulking like an overgrown child, Vasily clomps up a set of stone steps.

“What is this story?” Anatoly glides closer to me. I sweep my gaze over his ridiculous red suit.

Now isn’t the time to insult his fashion choices.

“You already married my daughter? Without me there?”

I snort and shake my head. “You’re a fucked-up dude.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

I tip my head back and look him straight in the eyes. “Remember the day we came to visit you—to tell you about our engagement?”

“I remember.”

“Yeah, well. We walked out of the prison and she told me point-blank she wanted to get married as soon as possible. She already had her dream wedding in mind and didn’t want to wait. Or be forced into some big affair by you.” I jerk my chin toward the stairs. “You know, like the whole circus that’s going on up there.”

Might as well remind him a horde of Devil Demons brothers is going to be looking for my ass soon.

“What was this dream wedding my daughter wanted, if not this?” He holds out his hands.

“I gave her the beach wedding she asked for.”

His forehead wrinkles, as if I said we’d gotten married on the moon. “Beach wedding?”

“Did you ever take the time to get to know who your daughter is as a person? Or did you assume she was nothing more than what you projected onto her?”

“You are very brave for a man tied to a chair.”

“You’re not going to kill me, Anatoly.” I sit back and try to act casual. “You know damn well if you do, you’ll never see Mallory again.”

He raises two fuzzy, gray eyebrows. “You think so?”

“I know so.” The thought of this asshole killing me and not being here to protect Mallory sends rage through me. “Your daughter’s stronger than you think.”

He nods once. “She is brave.”

That’s quite a compliment from him.

“She’s everything to me.” I swallow hard, pissed that he still hasn’t untied me. I jerk my head toward the stairs. “You think a man like Vasily would take better care of your daughter? Love her?”

“Vasily obeys me.”

“Yeah, I’ll never do that. But I’ll protect her with my life. So will my family.”

“Your father seems fond of her,” he concedes.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure he likes her better than me,” I joke.

“Can’t imagine why.”

The corner of my mouth twists. “Got a sense of humor after all, huh?”

He stares at me.

“Look, like it or not, I’m your son-in-law now. I suggest you make the best of it. Anything happens to me, and all those deals you’ve been setting up with my father’s contacts are up in smoke. My father will bring every Devil Demons charter in this country down on your head and exterminate your whole crew.” I cock my head. “That’s what you’d do if someone hurt Mallory, right?”

He’s quiet. Thoughtful.

“Or maybe not,” I prod. “She’s just a girl, so not as useful to you?”

“That is not true.”

“Cut the shit, Anatoly. Kill me or let me go to my wife before she loses her mind worrying about me. She’s nervous enough about today. I don’t want anything stressing her out more.”

His hard expression actually softens. He jerks his head and one of his minions limps out of the shadows.

“You the fucker who put the hood over my head?” I stare at his remarkably flat face. The guy’s built like a slab of concrete. He unsheathes a knife and slices through my restraints without answering.

I rub my fingers over my cheek and glare at my father-in-law. “That better not bruise.”

“Yeah, yeah. Your wedding photos.” Anatoly waves his hand at me. “When will you give me grandchildren?”

My jaw drops. “A minute ago, you wanted to kill me. Now you want to know about grandkids?”

He shrugs. “You seem to be of hearty stock.”

I’m not sure what to make of that.

“Time moves so fast,” he says in a wistful tone. “You will discover that on your own when you become a father.”

“Well, we’re not in any hurry.”

“But you’ve thought about it?”

“Of course we have,” I snap, uncomfortable having this conversation with a man I barely like. “Jesus Christ, I wish you’d been this concerned about her life when she was a little girl.”

“Has she told you I was a bad father?”

I won’t betray the things Mallory’s confided in me, but I also have an issue with the way he treated her while she was growing up. “More that you were indifferent. Absent when she needed you.”

He purses his lips and nods. “I did not handle my wife’s death well. But Mallory was cared for. She had everything a little girl could desire.”

“She didn’t want stuff. She wanted her father.” I blow out a breath. “Now, she wants your respect.” In a gentler tone, not meant to insult, I add, “She’s a strong, smart, brave woman with a mind of her own. She’s kind and funny—”

“You did not mention beautiful.”

What is it with this guy? “She’s so much more than that. You should get to know her.”

“That is hard to do when she ran to the other side of the country to get away from me.”

“To follow her dreams. Christ, you have an ego the size of the damn country. Not everything’s about you.”

His lips twist into a smirk.

“You’re out of prison. Got enough money to afford the plane ticket. Get your ass out here and spend time with your daughter.”

“And you will allow me to stay with you?” he snorts. “In your home?”

“For fuck’s sake. You’re family. I guess so.” The horror of looking over the breakfast table to see his ugly mug washes over me. “Rather put you up in a hotel, honestly.”

The fucker roars with laughter. “That would probably be best.”

“You killing me or not?” I flex my fingers, willing the tingling sensation to go away. “What are we doing here?”

“No, I’m not killing you, Russell.” He casts a disapproving gaze over me. “You dress better, I might make you my second-in-command.”

My father would love that. “Listen, your daughter got me into a suit for this wedding. Ain’t happening again. And I have my own family business to help run.”

“Ah, but you said it.” He taps the air in front of my chest, then his own. “We’re family now. Who else will I leave things to?”

“You plannin’ on dying soon?”

“Never.”

“God help us, you’re probably right and will outlive us all.” I stand and wince. My fucking knee doesn’t want to straighten. “Fuck.”

Anatoly slaps both hands on my shoulders, jostling me to face him. “You love my daughter,” he states.

“More than anything.”

“You will do anything for her. I see that now.”

“Yes,” I answer carefully. “For her. Don’t think you can use that to bend me to your needs, sir. Ain’t happening.”

“You are more clever than you appear.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot.” I jerk my head toward the stairs and limp my way over. “Come on. She’s waiting for you to walk her down the aisle.”

His face wrinkles with annoyance. “But you are already married.”

I swear he sounds like a pouty kid, and my own inner child is giggling with glee that we thwarted him. Petty, sure. I’m okay with it. “So what? This is the show for every single person in our lives who means something to us. The other wedding was for us.”

“Who walked her down the aisle at this beach wedding?” He says the word beach the way some might say toxic waste dump.

I take two fingers and walk them in the space between us. “She used her own two legs to make her way to me.” For a second, I close my eyes, savoring the memory. “She was beautiful. If you’re nice, I’ll show you the photo album.”

“Careful, son.” His mouth twitches. Shit, the old man might have a real sense of humor hidden in there. Plus, I suspect that as much as my give-no-fucks attitude pisses him off, he respects me for not kissing his ass.

His goon walks up the stairs ahead of us. Anatoly stops me with a hand on my shoulder.

“I am sorry about this.” He points to my face. “Vasily went overboard. I will not object if you seek retribution.”

As if I need his permission to kick Vasily’s ass. “Let’s save retribution for the after-party.”

CHAPTER SIX

MALLORY

“CAN WE HAVE A MINUTE, AUDREY?” Andrew’s solemn tone sends a skitter of fear through my stomach. Did something happen to Chaser? No, Stump wouldn’t send Andrew to tell me anything.

“You’re joking, right?” Audrey shoots a death glare at him. “I’m not leaving you alone with her.”

Andrew scratches the side of his head and gives me a sad golden retriever puppy face. “Is there anyone you and Chaser didn’t tell?”

Audrey folds her arms over her chest.

I cast another look at Andrew’s anxious face.

“It’s okay, Audrey,” I say.

“I’ll be right outside the door.” She gets on her tiptoes and wags a finger in his face. “You have exactly five minutes, Andrew. Or I’m bringing Mallory’s scary-ass father-in-law back with me.”

“Got it.” Andrew pales but a smile twitches at the corners of his mouth as he watches her leave. “I always liked that chick.”

I stand and curl my fingers around the back of the vanity chair. “Andrew, please tell me you didn’t come to my wedding to declare your love for me.” Direct and to the point is the only way to communicate with Andrew.

Guilt clouds his expression and he stares out the window behind me. “That’d be a real shitty thing to do to you, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes. It would.” I keep my hands on the chair. For the first time, I take in his over-the-top white tuxedo with black trim and blood-red tie. On anyone else, it’d probably look like a clown costume. But it suits Andrew’s long, lanky frame and outlandish personality. Still, I don’t trust him. “Don’t make Chaser regret giving you an invitation.”

“You didn’t want me here?”

“Honestly? No.”

“Ouch. Chaser and I have been working together on the album. I thought we were all getting along.” He presses his hand against his chest and steps forward. “But I guess I understand.”

“Good.”

“I thought we moved past…things.”

Having him loom over me is unnerving. I circle around him, edging closer to the door. “We have. That doesn’t mean I trust you completely. Why are you here?”

“I wanted to give you this.” He pulls a long, slim box out of his jacket pocket. “Like, a wedding gift. For you.”

“A toaster would’ve been fine.” I accept the box and cautiously pry off the lid. Inside, a glittering silver bracelet with a tiny blue butterfly charm suspended in the middle rests on a thick piece of dark blue velvet. Guilt for being cold toward him crawls over my skin. “It’s so pretty.”

“It reminded me of you,” he says, excitement speeding up his words. “And you know, it’s something blue. And new.”

“I already have both. Dress and—” I gesture to my sapphire blue engagement ring, lest he think I’m referring to my underwear, although that is a shade of the palest baby blue. But that’s not something I’d ever share with Andrew.

“Oh. Yeah.” He deflates like a child’s balloon. “Makes sense.”

I hesitate, not sure my wedding day is the appropriate time to wear jewelry from a man who once claimed he wanted to fuck me. Even if the wedding is just for show.

“I was going to ask Chaser if it was all right to give it to you,” he says.

“And?”

He shoves his hands in his pockets and glances at his shoes. “I couldn’t find him.”

How hard did he look? “He was supposed to be somewhere near the wine cellar getting ready.”

“Yeah, his scary biker family didn’t look very approachable.”

I shake with laughter and brace my hand against the back of my chair. “You don’t say.”

“Chaser doesn’t have to worry. If I was gonna try to convince you to run away with me, I’d give you something way bigger than a bracelet.”

My smile fades. “Andrew, really?”

“Yeah, like a powder blue Mercedes convertible or something,” he says with a questioning tone and raised eyebrow, like if I look out the window, I’ll find that exact car waiting outside.

“I can’t be bought for a car, Andrew.”

He nods, his shaggy hair dancing over his shoulders. “Yeah, I know you’re not that kinda woman.” He shrugs. “I just wanted to give you something that, you know, said I’m really happy for you. You don’t have to wear it today or anything.”

All the other jewelry I’m wearing came from either Chaser, or my father. The little butterfly is pretty. We’re even releasing butterflies at the end of the ceremony. Did someone tell Andrew that?

“Thank you. It’s beautiful.” I replace the lid without taking out the bracelet. “I love it.”

He holds out his hands. “Do you want me to put it on for you?”

“No,” I say gently. I hate being put in a position where I feel bad for hurting his feelings. But I just can’t wear a gift from Andrew when I vow to love, honor, and cherish Chaser for the rest of my life. Even if it is our second wedding and by some miracle Andrew’s intentions are honorable. “I’ll wear it the next time we all go out to dinner together,” I promise, hoping it will take the sting out of my rejection.

“Rad!” He pumps his fist in the air. “Let’s do that when you guys get back from your honeymoon. Please?”

The corners of my mouth curve. “Deal.”

The door swings open and Audrey aims her scowl at Andrew. “Time’s up, Mr. McMassivePenis.”

Andrew grins and sweeps his hand near his crotch. “So, you’ve heard the good word?”

“I’ve heard rumors.” Audrey rolls her eyes. “Now, go find your seat with the other guests.”

“Congratulations, Mallory.” Andrew reaches out and gently pats my shoulder. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you two. You’re both lucky to have each other.”

I swallow over the lump in my throat. “Thank you.”

He shoves his hands in his pockets and meanders out the door like a sad giraffe.

“Geez, what’d you say to him?” Audrey whispers, closing the door.

“Nothing.” I hold up the box. “He gave me a bracelet. I think I hurt his feelings because I wouldn’t wear it today.”

She snatches the box from my hands and opens it. “It’s beautiful.” She replaces the lid and sets it on the vanity. “But you made the right call. You can’t wear that today.”

I blow out a relieved breath. “Thank you. I thought I was being too—”

“Absolutely not. Chaser’s head would probably explode. And he has enough to deal with today.”

“Have you seen him?”

She shakes her head. “Not since earlier. Why?”

“Andrew said he tried to look for him to ask if it was okay to give me the bracelet but couldn’t find him.”

She tilts her head. “Yeaaaah.” Her tone drips with disbelief. “How hard do you really think he looked?”

Chuckling, I pick up the bracelet box and stuff it into my overnight bag. “Not that hard.”

The door opens again and Madeline whistles at me like a train conductor. “Showtime!”

“I’m ready.” I stand straighter and hold out my arms. “Let’s do this.”

The girls crowd into the room, fixing my veil and dress. I step into my heels.

Audrey reaches for me and squeezes my hand. “Ready?”

“I can’t wait another minute.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHASER

“WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN?” Tally shouts as soon as I return to the suite. “And what the fuck happened to your face?”

I close the door behind me. “No time for that. I need to get dressed.”

“Whoa.” Alvin blocks my path. “Who did that?”

“My father-in-law’s lapdogs.”

“You fucking kidding me?” Tally jumps off the sofa and heads for the door.

“Easy.” I step in front of him. “No retaliation right now. I’m not turning our wedding into a circus of violence.”

“We can’t let this go unanswered,” Tally insists.

“I know. We’ll deal with it. Right now, I need to get my ass to that altar.” I glance around the room. “Where’s my father?”

“At the chapel.”

“Who the fuck has a chapel at their house?” Alvin asks.

“Rich people.” I brush past both of them and grab my suit.

“Guess you needed me to hold your dick after all, huh?” Tally asks with a smug tone.

“For fuck’s sake,” I grumble. “Yes, I should’ve let you come with me to the bathroom like I’m five.”

“See, that’s why you’ll be a great MC president one day.” Tally busts out a shit-eating smirk. “You can admit when you’re wrong.”

Too bad I’m not planning to go home and run the club anytime soon.

Ignoring Tally, I turn toward Alvin. “How rough do I look?”

“Go see.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder toward the mirror.

I stare at myself and wince. There’s no way to hide this from Mallory.

“Come here.” Alvin grips my shoulder and turns me to face him. He dabs something that stings like a bitch over my lip.

“Thanks,” I mumble when he’s finished.

“Got lots of practice cleaning each other up over the years, yeah?”

“Sure did.”

Tally passes me a handful of ice wrapped in a T-shirt. I press the cold, lumpy bundle to the worst of it on the left side of my face.

Impatient, I strip off my clothes while keeping the ice on my face as much as possible.

“Your ass is blindingly white,” Alvin says, making a big production of shielding his eyes. “Sit out in the sun or something while you’re honeymooning.”

Tally busts out laughing.

“Jackasses, both of you.” I finish getting dressed without any more insults.

“You clean up nice, Mr. Adams.” Alvin salutes me.

“Not too shabby,” Tally agrees.

Someone knocks and pushes the door open. The “wedding coordinator” Madeline insisted we use pokes his head inside. “Groom! You’re needed at the altar.”

“On it.” I check my pockets.

“Nervous?” Tally asks me.

“Not even a little.”

MALLORY

SOMEONE TAPS on the door to the bridal suite. This time, Madeline answers.

“Mr. DeLova,” she sings in a high, nervous voice. “Come see. She’s a beautiful bride.”

“I expect so.” He glances around the plush room, nodding hello to the other girls. “Can I have a moment alone with my daughter.” His tone is more statement than question.

“We’ll go get ready,” Madeline assures me.

Audrey stops and squeezes my arm. She peers into my eyes, lifting a brow. “Are you okay?” she whispers.

My throat tightens, appreciating her concern more than I can express. I bob my head up and down.

My father watches her leave with too much interest for my taste.

I force a little brightness into my tone. “Well, what do you think?” I hold out my arms and spin in a tight circle.

“What do I think?” He steps closer, gripping my upper arm and leaning in to kiss my cheek. “I think you did not tell me you already married him,” my father whispers in my ear.

My heart stops. How does he know?

No. I’m not going to be intimidated by him. I’ve made too much progress to revert to acting like a little girl because my father might be angry with me.

I yank my arm out of his grasp and take a step back.

“That wedding was for us,” I say without any apology. “This one is for our friends and families.”

“He said something similar.” He snorts. “I don’t like him. Or his family. He is not good enough for you.”

Pain stabs through me. I don’t want to argue with my father, but I won’t let him disrespect my husband either. “I get to judge who’s good enough for me, Father. Chaser is the kind of man you should want me to be with.” I wrap my hands around my bouquet even tighter and hold it in front of my chest. “Now isn’t the time or place to discuss this.”

My father’s cold eyes drill into me. “You’ve grown up, Mallory. Changed. I’ve missed so much in the last few years.”

“Yes, you have,” I bristle.

He lightly rubs his knuckles against my cheek. “You look so much like your mother. I wish she were here to see you.”

“So do I,” I whisper.

He lets out a sad snort of laughter. “She probably would have loved your husband. Appreciated his…cheekiness, she would have called it.”

“You think so?”

He laughs again, this time with more humor than melancholy. “Yes, but she had terrible taste in men.”

Shocked laughter bursts past my lips and I hurry to cover my mouth. I can’t remember my father ever making a joke at his own expense.

He holds out his arm. “I suppose I cannot stop you. Even if I tried, it wouldn’t matter since you are already wedded to this man. But I appreciate you allowing me a small part of this ceremony.”

Oh boy, I sense the wounded pride under that concession. Someone’s going to pay for this, and I just hope it’s not Chaser or his club.

Or me.

“Thank you,” I say as sincerely as possible, lacing my arm through his. Together, we step into the hallway. Brody, our wedding coordinator, beams at me.

“Goddess,” he gushes. “Right this way.”

We follow him through a maze of hallways to a separate wing of the house that holds a chapel.

The traditional “Here Comes the Bride” melody signals it’s time to move down the aisle. We take slow, measured steps but my heart’s fluttering too hard for me to absorb many details. I keep my eyes straight ahead, focusing on Chaser waiting for me.

Audrey, Madeline, and the other bridesmaids stand in a neat row across from Chaser’s groomsmen. Chaser steps away from his place to meet us.

I tuck my flowers in the crook of my arm and hold out my hand to my husband. The second his fingers curl around mine, all the nervous tension running through my body evaporates.

“You’re radiant, little dove,” he whispers.

“Thank you.”

Chaser gives my father a tight nod and my father reluctantly releases me, stepping away to take his seat.

My gaze lands on Chaser’s split lip and what looks like a bruise forming around his left eye. “What happened to you?” I gasp.

He shakes his head. “Later. Everything’s okay.”

The hell it is. I shoot a glare over my shoulder at my father. But his face remains calm, almost smug. Damn him.

Too many eyes are on us. And we’ve endured enough gossip. I paste on a smile and let Chaser lead me to the altar.

CHASER

HOW DID I get so lucky to marry this woman not once, but twice?

I’d do it a hundred more times.

After the ceremony, the party moves to a massive outdoor tent. People say the food is good but I’m too busy staring at my wife.

“Come dance with me.” I stand and hold out my hand.

She looks so damn uncomfortable as she totters to her feet and carefully drops her napkin on the chair.

“Are you okay?” I ask once we move away from our table.

“No, I’m furious with my father.” She casts a vicious glance around the room. “Notice he’s been avoiding me all night?”

“Mmm, come here.” I clasp her hand in mine and slide my other arm around her waist. “You’re sexy when you’re all fired up.”

She stares up at me with sparks of defiance lighting up her eyes. “How many times have you protected me? Defied your father. Risked your career—everything—to take my side?” Her gaze drops. “And I can’t protect you from my father for one afternoon?”

“Hey.” I rest my finger under her chin and tip her head back. “It’s not your job to protect me.”

“The heck it’s not.” She releases my hand and drapes her arms around my neck, leaning up to kiss my cheek. “It’s you and me against the world, Mr. Adams.”

I touch my forehead to hers. “Forever and always, Mrs. Adams.”

She melts against me, and we continue dancing. Behind her, I spot Vasily talking to Frisco, one of the brothers from our SoCal charter. Frisco catches my eye and I give him a quick nod. At the head table Mallory and I vacated, our fathers are engaged in a tense conversation.

In another corner, Madeline and a few of Mallory’s costars are gathered, talking and glancing at us every few seconds.

“Hear that?” I whisper in Mallory’s ear.

She picks her head up and stares into my eyes. “The symphony of chaos around us?”

I quickly close my eyes, hoping I remember to write down that line later. “Yup.”

She tilts her head, a soft smile flickering over her full lips. “Why do you look so happy about it?”

“That frenzy will follow us for the rest of our lives.” As the words come out of my mouth, the gravity of them weighs on me. I hug her tighter. “But as long as we’re in each other’s arms at the end of the day, we will survive any storm.”

If you’d like to read more about Chaser and Mallory, their first book is Kickstart My Heart, available here: https://books2read.com/KickstartMyHeart They also make frequent guest star appearances in my Lost Kings MC series.

About the Author

Autumn Jones Lake is the USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestselling author of over thirty novels, including the popular Lost Kings MC series and the Hollywood Demons series. She believes true love stories never end.

Her past lives include baking cookies, bagging groceries, selling cheap shoes, and practicing law. Playing with her imaginary friends all day is by far her favorite job yet! Autumn lives in upstate New York with her own alpha hero. Visit her at www.autumnjoneslake.com

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INTO THE CLEAR WATER

AN EXTENDED EPILOGUE

B. CELESTE

CHAPTER ONE

EASTON

THE SCRUFFY MAN sitting up in the leather chair examines the fresh ink on his arm with an approving nod. “Looks good, man. Think we could book for next month to finish off the arm?”

Every tattoo decorating his body is from me over the years. When I left my apprenticeship and started my own parlor, he came with me as my first client. It’s his Benjamin Franklin framed on the back wall behind the counter. “It’s going to have to be the end of the month. I’ve got track meets and appointments to go to with the family.”

Burt, the man pulling out his wallet from the jeans that looks older than me, huffs out a laugh with a shake of his head. “Keep forgetting you’re domesticated and shit now. The wife finally popped, yeah?”

I roll my eyes and accept the bills he passes me of the agreed upon amount before heading over to the register to make change for him. “Yeah. The twins are a few weeks old. Pissing on fucking everything.” He chuckles at my tone. “But they’re great. Poor little dudes already look like me.”

Piper said it was unfair that she spent eight and a half months carrying them only to see that they took after me. I wouldn’t have minded red hair on their little heads, or the pretty hazel eyes that I’ve loved waking up to every morning after we finally figured our shit out. Agreeing to be her roommate all those years ago was the best thing I could have done because it led us here. Choosing to be roommates with benefits may have complicated things, but once we pulled our heads out of our asses it worked out in the end.

I never thought I’d love getting pissed and vomited on, but here I am doing it twice over to give my wife a break as much as I can.

“My daughter always waited until I was done changing her to shit all over herself,” Burt tells me with an amused grin on his face. He takes the change I offer and shoves it into the tip jar I leave on the counter. “Just wait for the blowouts. Those are fun to clean up, especially if you’re in public when it happens, and you’re not prepared.”

I don’t think I’ll ever have to be worried about being unprepared for anything. Piper has emergency bags packed in both our cars in case something like that were to happen. She even has a wide selection of diaper sizes that she plans on changing out as the boys grow.

Considering Ezra and Eli are only weeks old, they produce more shit than I ever knew two tiny bodies were capable of. “Thanks for the heads up, man. So, we’ll book for end of October?”

The front door opens as Burt is leaving. I’m about to tell the walk-in that we’re closing when I see the strawberry blond curls that I learned to braid over the years. When her brown eyes lock on me, she knows she’s about to get lectured again.

“Did you run here?” I ask, taking note of the workout clothes covered in sweat. “We talked about this, Dudette. It’s not safe. You’re not even wearing bright colors.”

The almost eleven-year-old who I consider my own after all this time looks down at her attire with a frown. She knows I’m right, but she still lifts her hands and signs, “I stayed on the sidewalk this time.”

It’s because of Ainsley that I learned American Sign Language. She’s been select mute since I’ve known her and Piper. The tragic loss of her father is what supposedly caused the condition that left her silent, but we’ve always been able to communicate because they started taking sign language classes when Ainsley was young. Piper has always wanted the little girl she gained guardianship of to be comfortable with who she was and how she communicated.

It’s one of the reasons I fell for her.

Burt is long gone when I turn scolding eyes to the girl grabbing a bottle of water from the mini fridge I keep stalked. When she turns to me, I both sign and say, “Anything could have happened to you. Does your mother know you’re here? She’s got to be freaking out. You can’t do that to her when she’s got her hands full with the boys too.”

A guilty frown weighs down her lips as she lowers the water bottle. “They’ve been sleeping, so I thought I’d come see you. I thought babies would be more fun.”

I can’t help but laugh at that. “Give it time. Once they get older, you can do more with them.” Putting my arm around her, I guide her toward the counter. “Give me a few minutes to lock up and we can head home. How about we grab some food on the way? Your mom has been wanting burgers.”

There have been a lot of times over the past five, almost six years, where my wife has tried converting me into an omnivore. She always makes me vegetarian and vegan dishes, but it never stops her from taunting me with cheeseburgers, bacon, and whatever other meat she thinks will eventually change my mind.

When I bring up food, there’s a moment of hesitation on Ainsley’s face before she slowly nods. I study her for a second or two before offering her a smile and getting ready to finish for the day. I used to stay open later, and sometimes will let the other artists stay and close that way they can accept clients later, but ever since I found out that Piper was pregnant, I knew I wanted to change routine. Be there for them. Spend time with them. Experience the firsts.

After I grab the keys to the front door, I open my arm for Ainsley to slide under and walk us out the door. She watches me lock up before I guide her to my car parked by the front curb and open the door for her.

I say, “Everything okay?”

Her eyes seem dull with contemplation. I’ve noticed the expression before. Distant. Withdrawn. Lost in thought. But like always, Ainsley simply curls her lips upward and nods her head once before signing, “Let’s get milkshakes too.”

CHAPTER TWO

PIPER

EXHAUSTION WEIGHS down each step as I walk toward the kitchen to get the bottles prepared. From the corner of my eye, I see Ainsley sitting on the couch with the TV on in front of her and her best friend, Milo, sitting beside her. A familiar cartoon they typically watch every Saturday morning is capturing both their attentions as it plays on the screen.

I’m pulled out of the observation when two long arms wrap around me from behind. “Let me get the bottles, baby,” East says, kissing the back of my head before pecking another kiss against my cheek. “Get some sleep. You were restless last night.”

Instead of addressing that, I turn in his arms and ask, “Have you noticed something different with Ainsley? She’s been acting off lately. She didn’t finish her waffles this morning and when she came home from school yesterday she didn’t want her usual snack.”

East glances in her direction before focusing back on me, one of his hands moving a piece of hair behind my ear. “She might have the bug that’s going around. A few people were talking about it the other day at the shop.”

“She’s running a lot more too.”

His brows pop up. “Is there something you’re worried about?”

Lips rubbing together, I lift my shoulders and loosen a sigh. “Being her age is tough. I remember all the thoughts and feelings I had. It only got worse as I got older. I just worry about her in school. She has Milo, but she doesn’t seem to have any other friends.”

Her uniqueness has always been something I’ve loved about her, but I know how adolescent children can be. Cruel. If they don’t understand you, they make you an outcast. The last thing I want is for her to feel that way after all the progress she’s made over the years.

“Want me to talk to her?” my husband asks softly.

We both turn our eyes to the living room, where a set of contagious giggles sound over whatever is happening in their show. It’s a peaceful sound that eases my tense shoulders.

Eventually, I shake my head. “Let’s just keep an eye on her for now. She seems happy enough.”

I think we both know the reason for that. She’s always this way whenever Milo James is around. If their friendship, bonded strongly by his deafness and her mutism, is enough to make a difference in her life, then it’s good enough for me. Isn’t our children’s happiness all parents want from life anyway?

When the sound of a baby crying through the monitor breaks me out of my concerned state of mind, East and I get to work on the bottles. “I mean it,” he tells me. “Get some rest. I’ll bring you something to eat after you’ve gotten more sleep. Okay?”

One sleepy smile later, I find myself pecking the top of Ainsley’s head before walking back to the room I share with the man currently taking care of our babies.

And thinking about the beautiful life we live together is what I fall asleep to, a big smile on myself despite how little sleep I’ve been getting because of it.

I’M CARRYING A SLEEPING Ezra downstairs when I see the flickering TV screen in the otherwise dark room. A smile forms on my face knowing what sight I’ll see when I enter the living room.

East is sound asleep under a blanket that it looks like Ainsley draped over him. She’s on the other side of the couch with her feet crossed under her and her eyes plastered on the screen.

I walk around the side of the couch and brush her shoulder gently. Her eyes move to me, then down to her little brother nestled into the crook of my arm.

The infomercial on the screen is for a Betty Crocker cake mold that I didn’t think existed anymore. “How long has he been asleep?” I whisper, looking at my snoring husband.

He’d stayed up all night last night with a screaming Eli who’s struggling with colic. Then he had to go into work for a few hours to make up some appointments. By the time he got home, he’d insisted on cooking dinner and helping get the boys to bed.

Ainsley signs, “Only a few minutes.”

It’s always been their tradition to watch TV in the middle of the night. It started when she was young and gotten sick. He stayed up all night watching animated movies with her and making sure she stayed hydrated.

I nudge her and gesture toward the kitchen for her to follow. I’m preparing a bottle when I hear Ainsley walk up behind me and open the fridge door. I watch as she shuffles through the door until she produces a bottle of water. When she was little, she used to beg me for soda at any time of day or night. I’d never give it to her because the last thing she needed is more sugar, especially at nine o’clock at night.

But now… “Are you okay, nugget? You barely touched dinner and I noticed you didn’t finish your lunch.”

She toys with the cap of her water, not making eye contact with me. Worry creeps into my chest the longer she evades her eyes, and I know there’s something that she’s not telling me.

“Ainsley?” I ask, stepping toward her.

Her head shakes lightly. “Stomachache,” she signs, grabbing her water. “Some of the girls on the team got it.”

I frown at the news. Normally their coach is good at keeping us updated on things like that, especially when they’ve got a meet coming up that they’ve been training hard on. “Are you going to be okay to do the meet? I can talk to Coach Priestly about postponing it if there are multiple girls out from the bug.”

She stands straighter and shakes her head rapidly, her fingers gripping the bottle until it crinkles under the pressure. Letting it go, she replies, “I’m fine. I promise.”

I know being on the track team means something to her. She feels included and she’s good. The last thing I want to do is take that away from something that makes her feel good. Smiling, I say, “Tell me if you change your mind.”

She won’t, but she nods anyway.

Walking up to me, she pecks my cheek, then bends to kiss Ezra on the head. She signs I love you before heading to the stairs. I listen to each footstep until her bedroom door opens and closes, and only then do I look down at the baby in my arms and let out a sigh.

I head into the living room to turn down the sound on the TV when I see East slowly starting to sit up and look around. “She just went to bed. You were right about the stomach bug.”

He gives me a sleepy smile. “Told you.”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t look too smug. That means you’ll have to see Milo give her the googly eyes at the track meet.”

My protective husband deadpans. “Not funny,” he grumbles, rubbing his eyes. He opens his arms for me to put his son into his arms. “I’m telling you we’re going to have to keep an eye out on those two when they get older.”

I giggle and let him cradle Ezra, watching as he nuzzles his nose against our son’s head before kissing it. The first time he ever held the boys will forever be my favorite moment. Everything in his scared, fearful demeaner changed when he did skin time with one of the boys while I did the same with the other.

“We’ll cross that road if we get there,” I tell him quietly, squeezing his knee. “But there’s far worse Ainsley can do than Milo. He comes from a great family.”

“I know he does.”

“And he treats Ainsley with respect.”

He sighs. “I know he does, baby.”

“If there’s anyone who will be patient with her, it’s him,” I reason despite the face he makes.

The groaning sound rising up his throat makes my smile grow wider. “She’s too young for us to be having this conversation. Let’s not rush it.”

I don’t remind him that she’s growing up fast. Soon she’ll be a pre-teen. Then a teenager. Things will happen, and I have no doubt some of those things will occur with the boy in question.

I lean my cheek against his shoulder and we both watch the baby sleep peacefully in East’s tatted arms. “I don’t want any of them to grow up either,” I reassure him. “But one day they’ll have to. I have a feeling they’ll all be just fine.”

He hums.

I kiss his shoulder.

Then Ezra makes a disturbing noise in his diaper that causes both East and I to start laughing.

About the Author

B. Celeste is a new adult and contemporary romance author that gives voices to raw, realistic characters with emotional storylines that tug on the heartstrings.

She was born and raised in Upstate New York where she still resides with her four-legged feline sidekick Oliver “Ollie” Queen. Her love for reading and writing began at an early age and only grew stronger after getting a BA in English and an MFA in English & Creative Writing. When she’s not writing, she’s working out, binge-watching reality game shows, and spending time with her friends and family.

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PRANKED EVER AFTER

B.L. OLSON

CHAPTER ONE

SIENNA

ETHAN GIVES me a bewildered look as he gestures at the very full trunk of suitcases. “Woman, how do you have more packed for a trip that is just us than one that also includes the twins?”

I retort, “Maybe one of those is full of lingerie? Have you ever thought about that, Wiley?” It’s a bit of a stretch to call it a full suitcase, but I did pack some lingerie, damn it!

It’s hard not to when your mother and grandmother show up on the eve of your departure to pick up your twins and inspect the quality and quantity of said items of clothing.

Cause you know, it’s a requirement for this sort of event according to the duo.

And they do this for every. Single. Anniversary.

We spend every year at the place where Ethan finally wore me down, Applewood Manor. Or if you ask him, it was at a destination wedding where his pranks won over my heart.

Potato, potahto.

As he pulls out some suitcases and sets them on the cement between us, I can’t help but take a moment to appreciate the lip-bitingly good arm porn occuring in front of me.

Sweet mama, five years of marriage and my husband still does it for me.

Ethan may have slowed down professionally after I put a ring on it and shared I was pregnant with him, but you wouldn’t know by looking at him. If anything, he has more abs than when we first got together and I don’t know how that is physically possible.

They procreate like freaking rabbits, I swear.

Something that Ethan and I haven’t been doing ourselves, thank goodness. When we found out we were having twins, I was overwhelmed to say the least. While I always knew there was that chance, I was also barely prepared for one kid on top of a new marriage and a career. But like with everything else in my life, I went into motherhood with twins as prepared as I could be but also knowing that some things, often the best things, cannot be prepared for at all.

I did shut down having more anytime soon, though, when I was pushing out our first baby boy, Theo. I had screamed at my husband that he was never touching me again. My reasoning was that this circle of hell was worse than the one where I saw my mom and grandmother on a stripper pole, and I still stand by that statement.

We talked it over again when things calmed down and both agreed that we would wait to have any more, but now that the twins are in preschool, and starting elementary soon enough, I know I am ready.

In fact, I came into our anniversary vacation with only one goal; to have my husband put a baby in me. Fingers crossed it’s only one this time around.

Ethan turns just in time to catch me appreciating the view rather than, you know, helping him and gives me a cheeky grin. “You can’t give me that look until after we get checked in and make it to our room. Have some self-control, woman!”

I roll my eyes at him and respond flatly, “I’ll attempt to keep it in my pants until then.”

Ethan moves as if to start grabbing the luggage but suddenly freezes for a long moment. He lets out a pained groan and rubs one of his large (*wink wink*) hands over his face.

“Suitcase full of lingerie. That’s what your mother and grandmother brought last night, isn’t it? Lingerie?”

I grin at my husband and shrug casually. “Guess you won’t know until we get up to the room to unpack.”

Ethan shakes his head at me and his usual devilish grin and sinful dimple returns to his handsome face. “Nah, babe. You would never accept lingerie from anyone but me, and especially not from those two.”

I shiver in horror. “Can you imagine? You know, you could be more grateful as I did us both a favor shutting that shit down. You know if you found out who picked it out, you wouldn’t have been able to get hard for a month.”

It’s Ethan’s turn to shiver. “Just suggesting it may have set us back a few hours.”

I waggle a finger in his face and make a tsk sound. “We can’t have that, Wiley. I have plans for that dick, so you just start reminiscing over our first time in the Manor’s supply closet and get yourself ready for what’s to come.”

My husband reassures me with a wink and promise. ”Oh you’ll come, woman. Don’t you worry about that.” He sighs wistfully. “I have missed that supply closet, though. Maybe we should make a detour on the way to our room and utilize it? You know, for nostalgia’s sake.”

“You know that’s gonna be a hard pass from me. After our last few visits, I’m almost convinced this place is haunted like Tillie suggests. I don’t need a ghost slut shaming me for getting it on in the supply closet.”

The jerk laughs at me. “Even if it is haunted, you’re forgetting we already had sex in there. Not only that, but a ghost would be able to watch and judge us from our room just as well as from the closet.”

“Semantics,” I mutter under my breath.

I stoop to grab as many of our suitcases as I can physically maneuver. Before I can even take two steps toward the front door, Ethan slaps my ass and causes a yelp to escape my mouth.

I shoot a half-hearted glare at my husband over my shoulder but otherwise say nothing else as I continue my journey to check-in.

I have to set both suitcases I’m carrying down before I can open the door, but once inside I find two of my favorite people, Tillie with baby Isla strapped to her chest, at the counter.

Since meeting for my sister’s wedding, Tillie and I became fast friends. Her sunshine personality and kindness are infectious, and spending time with her never fails to leave me feeling uplifted.

When Tillie meets my own excited gaze, we both squeal in unison and rush each other with our arms spread wide for hugs. We do so awkwardly as not to crush Isla, who coos between us.

I drop a kiss on the baby’s head and get a whiff of that intoxicating baby smell. A pang of wanting washes through me, but I suppress it and focus my attention instead on the woman before me.

“It’s so good to see you, Tills! If Isla gets any cuter, I am going to up and steal her from you,” I gush.

She lets out a sweet, tinkling laugh. “You’re welcome to try. Tanner has been itching for a new challenge lately. I bet you wouldn’t make it past the county line before he finds you. You know,” she crooks an eyebrow at me, “you could have your own adorable baby, instead.”

Making sure the coast is clear to spill my plan, I glance out the window to the parking lot where I see Ethan is stalled and talking animatedly with Tanner, Tillie’s grumpy boss turned slightly-less-grumpy husband.

I turn back to my friend and whisper conspiratorially, “I could be after our anniversary trip, if I have my way.”

Tillie pumps her first in the air. “Yes! We might finally be pregnant at the same time.”

I blink in shock at my friend. “Holy shit. Are you saying-”

“I am!” Tillie squeals again and claps her hands.

I laugh happily and pull her in for another hug. “Damn, girl. You and Tanner work fast. Isla is only eight months old.”

“Yeah, well. Tanner convinced me to start casually trying and then boom, baby on board.” She shrugs, a look of content stamped on her face.

“You two do make pretty cute babies.” I smile warmly at Isla.

“So do you!” Tillie counters.

At the sound of approaching voices and footsteps I hurriedly whisper to Tillie, “Ethan doesn’t know yet, I am talking to him tonight, so don’t mention anything to him.”

My friend mimes zipping her lips and throwing away the key. I give her a smile of thanks and turn to greet our husbands with excitement and some nervousness running rampant through my veins.

CHAPTER TWO

ETHAN

FIVE YEARS OF MARRIAGE LATER, and my sweet wife honestly believes I don’t know what’s been occupying her pretty little mind as of late. When she started getting wistful over the twins’ old baby photos and videos a few weeks ago, I began to wonder if she wanted another baby.

Watching her gaze at baby Isla down in the lobby not long ago with such intense need and longing, I know Sienna is ready. And by the lingerie she packed that I may have taken a peek at before we even left Seattle, my wife is bringing her A-game.

Five years of teasing affection and love may have softened Sienna a little, but time, thankfully, hasn’t managed to wear down her determination or single-minded focus. Knowing her, she already has a proposition and seductive plan in place.

When my wife wants something, she tends to get her way. The exception being when she claimed she wanted me to stop my pursuit of her. Sienna just needed to get out of her own way and I showed her how to do it.

This time around at Applewood Manor, however, Sienna can have what she wants and I am looking forward to giving it to her.

Giggity.

I know, I know. Dad jokes, dirty edition.

This is a kid-free trip, no judgments. ’Kay, thanks.

Five years and a twin pregnancy took my wife from smoking hot to a blazing inferno. She laments her stretch marks and complains they make her look abhorrent, but I am always quick to dispel those untrue self-criticisms.

My wife is a smoke show and if she doesn’t listen to the words I am saying, I make sure to show her in other ways. Kissing and loving the marks that meant she had carried our beautiful children inside her. Nipping her waist that’s gotten just a little bit wider.

Detailing to her every night, when she is wrapped up in my arms and exhausted after a long day, how much I admire, treasure, and appreciate her.

As a woman, as my wife, and as a mother.

Now that we are blessedly alone in our room, I wait patiently for Sienna to show her hand. Knowing that she prefers to unpack everything immediately, rather than living out of our suitcases for a few days, I unzip the nearest piece of luggage and begin the task.

We make quick work of the suitcases together with Sienna seemingly lost in thought. I patiently wait for her to work out whatever she’s ruminating on.

Once the last suitcase has been stored away, a change comes over my wife. No longer lost in thought, Sienna saunters across the room with a calculating purpose. She puts a little extra sway in her hips, using a weapon in her arsenal that she knows will hit its mark.

Reaching me, she slides her hands up my chest and looks up at me from under her eyelashes seductively. “Alone at last, Mr. Wiley.”

I brush a soft kiss across her lips. “Wasn’t that your plan all along, Mrs. Wiley?”

Her eyes shine in merriment and she smiles widely. She asks, “What would you know of my plans?”

I grip Sienna by the ass and manhandle her into my arms, giving her a confident grin. She wraps her arms around my neck and grinds herself against my chest, seeking some much needed friction.

“Baby, I’m insulted you think I haven’t figured out what has you so distracted lately.”

She looks surprised for a moment but composes herself quickly. She demands, “And what has me so distracted, Mr. Know-it-All?”

I lower my wife to the bed, caging her in with my body and nipping at her neck. Sienna lets out a low moan and spreads her legs wider to give me better access. Wrapping a fistful of Sienna’s hair in my hand, I pull on it just enough to make sure her full attention is on me.

“You want another baby, don’t you, Sienna?” I ask with the confidence of someone who already knows the answer.

She nods, giving me a devilishly devious grin. “You think you’re up to the task, Wiley?”

“Up to the task? Just for that, it’s going to be triplets this time around,” I growl at her.

She giggles. “That’s not how it works, but okay. Do your worst, Wiley.”

Taking her lips in a harsh kiss, we get to work on the rest of our forever.

About the Author

B.L. Olson, or Brit to those she is not in trouble with, is a self-proclaimed hot mess who survives off of a daily vat of coffee and copious amounts of pizza. While she is a Pacific Northwest girl through and through, she currently resides in the desert where she balances reading, writing, and earning a degree in tarantula avoidance. She’s happy to report it has been all A’s across the board thus far.

You can find more books by B.L. Olson on her website: www.authorblolson.com

Curious as to how Ethan managed to prank Sienna for her heart?

Find out in Heart Pranked here: https://amzn.to/2XWsQYY

OPERATION BIRTHDAY PRINCESS

A SECRET BILLIONAIRES EPILOGUE

BLAIR BABYLON

A VERY ENGLISH TEMPER TANTRUM

ARTHER

BEING a spy for the British Secret Intelligence Service, commonly known as MI6, is never as glamorous, but occasionally as dangerous, as it is portrayed in movies.

Well, rarely as glamorous.

Arthur Finch-Hatton strolled through the Monte Carlo casino in Monaco feeling like James Bond, though Arthur would have most vehemently denied being an MI6 spy, for that is also part of the job. He wore a midnight blue Tom Ford couture suit, as befitted his station in life, and had chosen a silvery-blue tie that he knew matched his eyes because he needed to be anything but covert that night.

Indeed, he needed every eye in the historical casino on him. Every one of the American tourists dressed in what they thought were upscale clothes but Arthur would have considered to be only suitable for digging fence post holes on the estate of his earldom, every one of the French people who lived just a few miles away and had come to the casino for an amusing Saturday night, and every one of the travelers from all the countries around the world who had converged on the tiny principality of Monaco for whatever their reasons that evening. All of them needed to be looking at him.

And so, His Lordship Arthur Finch-Hatton, the Earl of Severn, a peer of the realm and English nobleman, as serene and reserved and dignified as an English lord could be, prepared to throw a temper tantrum.

If necessary. Arthur prayed that it wouldn’t be necessary.

He sat at the baccarat table, artfully fiddling with black poker chips. Baccarat was the perfect game for spies in the middle of an operation, which was probably why James Bond was always playing it. It was a game of pure chance and required absolutely no skill or attention, other than to accurately position poker chips in one of two rectangles and wait for the dealer to take them or double them.

If there was a strategy at baccarat, it was to always bet on the “dealer’s hand” for a slight statistical advantage, even though the dealer played both hands.

Arthur, nevertheless, placed his wager on the rectangle that denoted the player’s hand.

The other gamblers around the table placed their chips on their own rectangles. Everyone was eyeing what everyone else played, even though it made no difference in the odds. Baccarat was a drunk’s game, a patient game, and it lasted until the gambler threw caution and all sense to the wind and started betting on the fourteen-to-one “tie” space out of sheer boredom, much like betting the double-zero in roulette.

Arthur held his own at the baccarat table for an hour as he watched his associates move into position.

Casimir van Amsberg stood by the blackjack table, his auburn hair almost alight in the warm glow from the chandeliers above. His Nordic good looks were drawing attention too.

Excellent.

The petite woman standing beside Casimir was a zaftig peach of a woman, and she was giggling as he lost at blackjack.

As Arthur scanned the room, his eyes pausing at no one in particular, Casimir nodded and appeared to throw something onto the blackjack table, actually signaling a five with his spread-open fingers.

Operation Birthday Princess was a go.

The newly crowned Princess of Monaco had a birthday that week, and thus her husband, Prince Maxence of Monaco, had summoned his lifelong friends Arthur and Casimir, and their wives, to sneak Andrea “Dree” Grimaldi and himself into the casino for a night of mingling with the plebians. The princess was, as she said in her New Mexican vernacular, sick and tired of being cooped up in that oversized chicken coop, and by chicken coop she meant the Prince’s Palace that had stood as a fortress for nearly a millennium on the headlands above the harbor of Monaco.

Maxence had told Arthur something different, however. His wife was mourning and needed friends and distraction, and her birthday was that weekend.

Arthur also knew from his wife, Gen, that the month before, Princess Dree had suffered a loss that she could hardly bear in a medical emergency that had required quick work at the hospital to save her life and health. Gen had flown from London to Monaco to stay with Dree for over a week while she was in the hospital and after. Her hospitalization was not discussed publicly, for it had never been announced, and now Dree did not want to answer questions about it.

It was private.

It was personal.

It was between the princess and her doctors and no one else.

But it was always a difficult experience.

A night in the casino without being the center of attention would surely distract Dree’s mind.

And thus the covert Operation Birthday Princess had been hatched.

Arthur felt his cell phone twitch in the breast pocket of his suit.

Four minutes.

A simply stunning brunette with an hourglass figure approached Arthur at the baccarat table and asked, “Howdy. Are you winning?”

SPEAKING IN CODE

GEN FINCH-HATTEN

GENIEVIEVE FINCH-HATTON—EXPATRIATE Texan, the Countess of Severn, a first-rate British litigating attorney, and Arthur’s wife—checked out the baccarat table. “Howdy. Are you winning?”

Gen only said howdy when she wanted to emphasize her Western Americanness or just to rankle her husband because it was funny.

With a glance at the cards on the table, Arthur removed half the chips and shoved the remainder to the area to bet on the dealer’s hand. “Yes.”

When Arthur moved his chips, two other people at the table moved their bets too.

The pile of chips in front of her husband appeared smaller than before, but he wasn’t answering her question about the card game. Her question had been code as to whether their plan to sneak their friends Maxence and Dree into the casino incognito for the night was still on track.

Max and Dree were also the Sovereign Prince and Princess of Monaco, the royals thereabouts, which made it doubly hard.

But Operation Birthday Princess was on track.

Maxence could have just cleared the tourists out of the casino with a word, but that wasn’t the point of the evening. If they’d wanted to spend a night with just the six of them, they could have gone to Casimir and Roxanne’s compound in the hills above Los Angeles, or to Arthur and Gen’s manor house and estate in the English countryside outside of London, or just stayed in the fortress of the Prince’s Palace just a hundred yards away.

But no, the point was to get Dree out with people. Because, sometimes, Dree needed to just be herself in a crowd.

And so the casino was crowded with tourists, and the plan was afoot.

ROYALTY IN DISGUISE

MAXENCE

PRINCE MAXENCE of Monaco tugged at his shirt cuffs, barely visible below the ill-tailored suit jacket he wore. The abomination of a suit was “fitted” in the American style, which meant the jacket and pants were as baggy as elephant skin. The fabric hung off his shoulders and from his belt and swayed when he moved.

He’d also been directed not to shave that morning, and his thick black stubble hollowed Max’s cheeks and made him look gaunt. His black hair was brushed … wrong. It lay forward on his forehead and was stick-straight. A judicious amount of contouring had been applied to the sides of his nose and face, thinning his features.

His regular stylist would have been horrified and banished him back into the closet and the bathroom to clean himself up, or he might have called the royal physician, for surely Maxence must be near death to allow himself to look so ghastly.

Maxence’s wife, Dree, walked out of their suite’s bathroom wearing a flowing hippie dress, her long blond hair crimped into curls and flowing around her shoulders. Her makeup changed her face somehow, widening her jaw so that she appeared to have a square chin rather than her adorable elfin face.

She looked as fresh and beautiful as ever, though different.

And her fingernails were still long and painted a gorgeous shade of pink.

Dree looked at Maxence and laughed. “Oh, wow. Elfie sure did disguise you!”

Another blonde—shorter and wearing unrelieved black—swaggered as she walked out of the bathroom behind Dree.

Elfie Areleous examined the two of them, her blond braids swinging. “I think you two’ll pass for normal people for one night.”

Elfie was—Maxence gathered his thoughts—the wife of the drummer of the world-famous rock band that Max’s crazy-ass cousin was the lead singer for. Elfie had been a roadie for the band and assigned to keep the drummer, Tryp, out of trouble, and they’d fallen for each other. She was exactly the rock that Tryp had needed.

“So, we pass inspection, then?” Maxence asked.

Elfie shrugged. “I suppose. Good luck with this, though. When Tryp and I tried it, his disguise lasted for about an hour before someone saw through it. So, go and have a good time, but don’t push your luck.”

After Elfie had left, Dree began fidgeting with her clothes. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

“Come on,” Maxence told her. “It’s your birthday weekend. Roxanne and Gen have been talking their husbands’ ears off about how they can hardly wait to see you. Everything has been arranged. You wouldn’t want Elfie’s hard work to go to waste.”

Dree nodded, biting her lower lip so much that it disappeared into her mouth. She mumbled, “Yeah, okay.”

A few minutes later, Maxence and Dree were riding the back seat of a moonlight-gray Alfa Romeo Giulia, an unassuming four-door sedan and certainly not one of the usual black Porsche Cayennes the palace used for the royal family.

He took her hand. Dree had been suffering since the unexpected loss of a pregnancy, and Maxence had been doing what he could to try and comfort her. He grieved, too, because no one wants to go through such a thing.

When she’d been in the hospital with doctors caring for her, Maxence had gone to the chapel because his soul had compelled him. He’d begged God for Dree’s life and health. He’d raged at God for endangering the woman he loved.

To anyone looking on, he’d been silently praying a rosary on his knees, as befitted the sovereign prince of their country.

Dree had physically recovered within a few weeks, but Maxence had cancelled all her appearances for three months and would not hear of reinstating them.

The shock of Dree bleeding and the rush to save her had rattled him.

Yes, rattled.

Just rattled.

And then Dree had stopped leaving the palace.

Or their rooms.

And for a sunny extrovert like Dree, that was concerning.

Their driver drove them around the back of the Monte Carlo casino, where a palace guard stationed there opened the rear doors for them.

Maxence and Dree slipped inside, emerging in the back corner of a room, and slid through the crowd over to where Casimir, Roxanne, Arthur, and Gen were standing.

The women hugged it out, while Maxence shook hands with his best friends. There were more hugs and soprano chortles of “Happy Birthday!” and “Let’s ditch the men.”

Casimir looked around them. “So far, so good. I see an interesting number of your friends in the room.”

Max chuckled. “They insisted.”

Thirty bodyguards in various levels of evening wear were playing poker badly. Every female member of the security services was in attendance. Most of the women were scowling about going undercover in evening gowns while the men got to wear suits.

Maxence looked down.

Dree was missing.

When Max gazed over the crowd, however, he saw their three wives bustling toward the bar.

The urge to follow Dree and glower at anyone who got too close obsessed him, but Max couldn’t make a scene. People would look at him.

He couldn’t have people looking at him.

Instead, Max twitched his head at the security guards, who fanned out through the crowd and scurried after his wife.

Casimir turned and herded him toward the blackjack table. “Come on. Let’s play some cards.”

Maxence pulled some chips from his pocket and anted up.

The dealer was squinting at Max, his hands stilling on his chips, examining him too closely.

To Max’s right, Arthur leaned over the green-felted table and reached for the dealer’s chips. His upper-class British accent became more Cockney as he said, “I say there, I need change in chips for this bees a’ honey. I’ll just take five of those black ones—”

The dealer slapped his hands down on his chips and scowled at Arthur. “What change would you like, sir?”

Maxence and Casimir moved to another table while Arthur distracted the dealer.

There, the dealer obliviously scattered cards for blackjack across the table, concentrating on her work rather than whether somebody might be a celebrity or the ruler of the country.

She did examine him a little bit once when he was deciding whether to take a hit on sixteen, even though he knew he should.

Maxence pasted his stupidest grin on his face. “Howdy. How’s y’all doin’, then? Hit me.”

Arthur and Casimir dropped their gazes to the table and cleared their throats.

The dealer smiled a curt grimace and dealt him a card.

The rhythm of the card game and nonchalant banter of his friends soothed Maxence, but dread still pierced every muscle and tendon in his body.

FIVE

BLAIR BABYLON

GEN, Roxanne, and Dree settled onto barstools in the crowded bar and perused the cocktail menu.

“Tequila shots?” Gen suggested to Dree, who rolled her eyes. “There’s a Buddha Bar on the other end of the casino. We could reenact that first time we met two years ago.”

“Never again.” Dree ordered a nice cocktail with plenty of fruit juice and fizz. “Never again will I let you two vipers talk me into doing shots.”

Gen laughed and turned to the bartender, ordering her own drink, a scotch and soda.

They talked about frothy stuff for a while, celebrities and work and friends and family, until someone behind them announced loudly that they were pregnant and buying the whole bar shots to celebrate.

Dree’s heart clenched. She stared at the polished mahogany under her glass.

Gen and Roxanne’s arms wrapped around her shoulders.

“I’m okay,” she told them. “It was just a surprise. That’s all.”

“It’ll get better,” Roxanne told her.

Gen said, “And we’re always just a phone call away.”

“There’s just so much going on up here.” Dree waved her hands around her head. “I mean, the loss, the what-might-have-been. Max is on the verge of falling apart, even though he won’t admit it. He is very aware that he might’ve lost me.”

“Pregnancy is always a risk, but you had good medical care,” Roxanne said. “With good medical care, things like this are a hiccup, but you know that. You had good care like I would have in California.”

“Or I would have in London,” Gen added.

“Yeah, but I was a nurse in Arizona before I met Max,” Dree said. “Arizona has banned all pregnancy termination healthcare based on a law from the 1800s that was passed before they even became a state. If I’d still been in Arizona, I would have died or had to be an inch away from dying before they even tried to save my life. When I was working there, I saw women die or have their long-term health damaged because some damned politician thought their own religion was more important than people’s lives. Any time you restrict any kind of abortion for any so-called reason, pregnant people die.”

Gen held on to Dree’s shoulders.

“These politicians want to live in a theocracy like Iran,” Rox said. “They want the old, white-bearded, out-of-touch men to be running everything. You know, the ones who start every conversation with, ‘Those people shouldn’t be doing that,’ and it’s always something that doesn’t affect them at all. They’re scared and weak and need to mind their own damned business.”

Gen nodded. “America is a democracy, and religions shouldn’t be making laws in a democracy.”

“Yeah, they want a Protestant Christian theocracy, but they’re wrong on everything about the Bible and Christianity,” Dree said. “They’re hypocrites, all of them. ‘Oh, Jesus said this,’ and ‘Jesus said that.’ Funny how their version of Jesus always agrees with them, and yet they’re always wrong about what’s actually in the Bible.”

Gen nodded. She was a full-fledged barrister, a British litigating lawyer, despite her native Texas accent. “They think they’re Christians, but they can’t even get the Bible right.”

Dree chuckled. “Maxence can argue people like that under the table. He can recite whole chapters of the Bible and Church doctrine. Never argue with a guy who trained to be a Jesuit. It’s brutal to watch.”

“A friend of mine is a Jew,” Gen said, staring off into space. “She says that according to Jewish law and religion, a body is not considered alive after it has taken its last breath and will breathe no more. The soul has gone. That body isn’t alive. Likewise, a fetus that has not and cannot take its first breath isn’t alive. The soul hasn’t entered it yet. Abortion has been legal under Jewish law for 5,782 years.”

Dree nodded. “Jesus was a Jew. That’s what Jesus Christ, Himself, would have believed, if you want to go there. It’s just another example of those politicians telling you stuff about Jesus that is wrong. When Jesus disagreed with Jewish law, he said and did something about it.”

Rox nodded. “Like flipping the moneylenders’ tables at the temple. He went biblical on them.”

They snorted, chuckling.

Dree said, “And Jesus’s first public act ever was to collect grain on the Sabbath, which broke Jewish law about working on the Sabbath. He publicly broke laws that He didn’t agree with.”

Gen said, “Jesus said to love and not judge other people, and that charging interest for borrowing money was an abomination. You know, like credit cards. But He must have believed that a fetus that has not taken and cannot take a breath isn’t alive and doesn’t have a soul. He never said or did anything else, so He must have agreed with Jewish law. Otherwise, He would have said something.”

Dree nodded. “So, to recap Jesus: you must love all people with your whole heart and not judge them, credit cards are an abomination against the Lord, and ending a pregnancy for any reason whatsoever is legal and no one else’s business.”

Gen, ever the barrister, nodded. “And if you want to go Old Testament, in Exodus, a woman is a person. The murder of a woman invokes lex talionis law, an eye for an eye, a life for a life. The punishment for causing a miscarriage in someone else is only a fine, like if you broke someone else’s vase. A fetus is treated as property. Breaking your own vase voluntarily is perfectly legal.”

“Yeah,” Dree said. “Besides, the Old Testament also forbids tattoos and piercings, and I like Maxence’s backpiece tattoo.”

Gen and Rox laughed.

Gen said, “Yeah, those tattoos that the three of them have are hot.”

“Right,” Roxanne said, staring off into space. “People should be able to get tattoos and piercings if they want without other people passing laws against it because it’s against their religion. People should be able to choose which medical procedures they want for the exact same reason. Because it’s their own body, and other people’s religions don’t have the right to control it.”

Dree and Gen nodded.

“You can’t force other people to give up their right to do what they want with their own bodies so that other people can stay alive. If the government is going to do that, then the government should force everyone to donate bone marrow, one kidney, and part of their liver. Your liver will grow back in less than a month. You can live fine with one kidney. Yes, your health will suffer some and there are risks during the donation surgery and recovery is a bitch and can take months if you ever really get over it, but pregnancy has even greater risks. Fifty thousand people die every year from not getting a kidney transplant in the US alone. And it’s another fifty thousand deaths from liver disease. But we don’t do that because the government cannot force you to put your life and health in danger, even if it’s to save someone else. Because it’s your body, and no one should tell you that you have to risk your life and health so that someone else might or might not live.”

Dree laughed a little. “I mean, as a nurse practitioner, I can tell you that according to medical ethics, abortion should be offered and encouraged in every pregnancy. The complication rate for early medical abortions is less than 1.3%, while for pregnancy it’s around 8%. That means that carrying a pregnancy to term is fourteen times more dangerous to your life and health than an abortion.”

Gen shook her head. “Geez.”

“And that 8% complication rate is just the pregnancy. That doesn’t include ‘normal’ outcomes like tearing the hell out of your pelvic floor during delivery. It’s unethical not to offer and encourage the medical route with the better outcome. That’s like you having cancer, and the doctor not offering you chemotherapy because it’s against a politician’s religion. And now, they’re criminalizing it.”

“It’s obscene,” Roxanne said.

Dree nodded. “Deaths related to pregnancy go up 30% when abortion is outlawed for any reason. More women die. That’s a proven fact. Outlawing abortion kills people.”

“Those laws are draconian.” Rox shook her head. Her extensive experience as Casimir’s paralegal was about the same as going to law school. “Miscarriages and ‘spontaneous abortions,’ which is just the medical name for natural early miscarriages, happen all the time, and people need medical care that is covered under these goddamn laws to survive it. If you talk to your friends, well over half of us have had a pregnancy that didn’t make it, no matter how much we wanted it or not. I’ve had two early losses.”

Gen nodded. “One.”

They hugged Dree because hers was still so recent.

The woman sitting on the barstool beside them, a chubby woman whose short legs were dangling, turned on her barstool. “Five. Sorry, I couldn’t help overhearing.”

“Oh, that’s fine.” Dree stuck out her hand. “I’m Dree Clark.”

The woman smiled, a bit of mischief in her brown eyes, and shook Dree’s hand. “I know. I’m Blair. Blair Babylon.”

Rox leaned in and lifted an eyebrow. “Quite a name.”

Blair laughed. “Yeah, well, alliteration happens. Anyway, five, for me. And if any one or all of them had been able to make it, I wanted them. But it just wasn’t to be. And the last one, my body couldn’t finish getting rid of the placenta and heal right. I had to have a D&C, because otherwise, I would have gone into septic shock and died. No one survives that. You just die, horribly and screaming. It was ten years ago. But that procedure to finish what nature had started and save my life would be illegal in a lot of US states now.”

“Yeah,” Rox said, lifting the side of her nose in disgust. “The right to choose your own healthcare is literally your right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Interfering with people’s health care is Big Government Overreach. It’s a government death panel. It’s Big Brother and Soviet Union Communist dictators. I mean, communist dictators outlawed abortion.”

Gen shook her head. “Forcing people to be or remain pregnant against their will is literally a war crime forbidden by the Geneva Convention.”

Blair nodded. “Yep, and if I would have died ten years ago, you three ladies would never have met her,” Blair points toward you, the reader, who is reading this story. “Those laws that are being enforced right now would have killed me.”

Dree, Rox, and Gen turn and look at you, staring directly into your eyes.

Blair continues, “Because I would have died back then, I wouldn’t have written their books. My then-eight-year-old kid would have grown up without a mother, all because some politicians and unelected judges think they know more about pregnancy than doctors and the person who’s pregnant, and they think they know more about God and what’s moral than Jesus Christ.”

Rox, Dree, and Gen nod.

Blair sat back on her barstool. “Nice to see you, ladies. Have a good night.”

She turned back to her drink, leaving Rox, Gen, and Dree to talk.

Dree sighed. “It’s good you girls came. I was feeling alone.”

Gen and Rox hugged her. “Anytime.”

OPTIONS

MAXENCE

MAXENCE LED his wife into their suite in the Prince’s Palace of Monaco. “Did you have a good birthday?”

Dree giggled as she traipsed behind him, her boho hippie dress fluttering around her as she walked. “Hell, yeah.”

After drinks and cards, the six of them had danced for hours in the nightclub. In the dark and flashing lights, no one stood a chance of recognizing Maxence and Dree, and the stress of trying not to be recognized fell away.

But in those moments of Dree’s throaty laughter and luscious, wiggling body in his arms, dread had settled over Maxence.

Given a slightly different turn of fate, Dree might not have been in his arms that night, that moment. Her body might have been lying in a drawer in the cold hospital basement as Maxence arranged another royal funeral.

Like his father’s.

Like his mother’s.

Like his uncle’s.

Like his brother’s.

Ice crawled down Maxence’s back.

Not another one.

Not Dree.

Later, he’d splashed cold water on his face in a sink of the club’s bathroom, trying to stop the stabbing thought.

Even then, in their apartment, Maxence wiped the side of his face with his hand, and it came away clammy with cold sweat.

Dree flopped herself on their couch and pushed her hair away from her face. Blond strands clung to her face as she struggled with it. “Now that was a birthday party.”

Maxence lowered himself to the couch beside her. “I’d like to speak to you about something.”

She straightened. “Uh oh. What’s up?”

“I would like to put forward our plan to have a family for negotiation.”

She frowned at him. “The doctor said I should take three months off before we try again.”

“That’s not what I meant. These last few weeks have changed my perspective.”

“I know you’ve been treating me like I’m made out of spun glass.”

Maxence took a breath and stated his case. “I don’t want to have children.”

Dree’s eyebrows gathered, and her voice was smaller. “Why?”

“Please,” he told her. “Let’s stop trying. I can’t lose you. I can’t.”

“Oh.” She breathed in and then sighed. “But we agreed that we wanted children. I want kids. You said that you wanted kids.”

“I changed my mind. It’s not worth it. Either you’ll do something permanent about birth control, or I will.”

“Look, Max. I’ve always planned my life around having a family. Our priorities are the same. I knew having kids would be part of the deal when I signed on to marry you. You’re the Prince of Monaco. If you don’t have a kid, and probably a son at that, Monaco will cease to exist. You said France would reabsorb it.”

He brushed his hand through the air because Monaco’s line of succession was the least of his concerns. “I’ll abdicate. Xan can have the throne.”

She snorted. “Xan will literally murder you if you try to force him onto the throne.”

“Then Monaco can hold another council to decide who’ll get it. I don’t care. You’re more important to me than Monaco or having children or any of it.”

Her worried little face softened, and she smiled faintly at him. “Maxence, my darling, my prince. It was a health scare. People have them all the time. Not getting pregnant won’t mean that nothing will ever happen to me. Car accidents happen.”

“I will lock you in the palace.”

She mocked him. “You can’t do that.”

Maxence shrugged, a wry smile winding up his features. “Actually, I could.”

Dree snorted. “I’m a New Mexican farm girl. You’d try, but I’ve been climbing out of windows and up trees since I was knee-high to a grasshopper. I could scale these walls in a heartbeat. But it wouldn’t change anything. Living is precarious and precious. Cancer happens. People fall down and crack their heads open. With all these royal banquets we’ve been going to, my money is on a massive heart attack taking me out at some point.”

He grasped her hands. “But we can eliminate this risk.”

“I don’t want to eliminate it. I want to have a baby. Heck, I want to have babies.”

Maxence shook his head. “We can adopt if you want a family. The line of succession in Monaco allows it. I have an ancestor who was adopted, and the throne passed through her to her children. It’s been done before, so we can do that.”

Dree held on to his hands, and Maxence gripped hers back. She said, “Adoption isn’t an alternative to pregnancy, Max. It’s always a trauma. It should be handled gently and with love and kindness, but it’s not harmless. Besides, I want to grow our kids in my own body if I can. I know this was a scare. It scared me, too, but it hasn’t changed my mind.”

Maxence gathered her into his arms, her body comparatively so small against his, and he held on to her because he wasn’t going to allow death or anyone to take her. “Then we’ll wait.”

“Yeah, we’ll take a break, but we’ll be okay. I want us to have a family together, Maxence. It’s not just for Monaco. You can abdicate if you want, and we can go live in France or England or in a shack on an island somewhere. But I want to have a family with you.”

Maxence squeezed his eyes shut and rested his chin on the top of her head. “Then I’ll give you a family, but I have to make sure you’re safe.”

“We just proved that I am safe, Max. A thing happened. It could have been a dangerous thing, but we had the medical resources in place to handle it. Healthcare, including abortion, is legal here. It’s safer to have a baby here than somewhere that abortion is illegal. We proved that if something happens, good medical care is available and I’ll be okay. You can stop worrying.”

He didn’t relax his arms. “I’m not worrying.”

“Right,” Dree said from somewhere near his chest. “You’re not worrying at all. You’re a great, big, totally-not-worried rock.”

He ducked his head and kissed her, murmuring against her lips, “You’re back on the pill, right?”

She nodded. “Yeah, the doctors said to, more for psychological reasons than physical, I think.”

“Good,” he said, “because we’ll need to practice if I’m going to properly get you pregnant again.”

“By all means, then, your serene highness. Let’s practice.”

NEXT TIME, ON SECRET BILLIONAIRES

ARTHUR

ARTHUR FINCH-HATTEN WHO, as has been stated before, would vehemently deny being an officer in MI6 or any of Britian’s secret intelligence services, strolled through the Monte Carlo casino somewhat after two-thirty in the morning.

The slot machines had been turned off. The banks of them stood silent and dark, leaving Arthur more time to attend to the casino’s Capriccio and Belle Époque architecture, a melding of the gorgeous styles of French and Italian culture.

A few dozen remaining patrons were moving toward the building’s entrance, some ambling with reluctance to leave a good time, some stumbling with drink.

One tall man staggered out from between two banks of silent slot machines, gazing around as if befuddled by alcohol or drugs, and stumbled sideways toward Arthur.

The man hadn’t looked directly at Arthur, but if he had, Arthur knew the man’s eyes would have been pale gray with glimmers of teal and green, like opals.

Jesus, God Almighty, what was Micah Shine doing in Monaco?

Arthur caught Micah as he flopped on Arthur, struggling to help him upright.

Sometimes, an absence is the clue, the proverbial dog that didn’t bark.

Micah didn’t reek of alcohol, and his eyes were not bloodshot or dilated from drugs.

As they bobbled, Micah’s hand brushed Arthur’s suit jacket’s pocket, his fingers dipping inside for the briefest instant.

Arthur struggled with Micah, steadying him on his feet. Arthur announced for the cameras and microphones of the casino, “I say there, old chap, are you quite all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks,” Micah slurred and stumbled toward the casino exit.

Later, in the safety of Arthur’s hotel room that his friends had swept for listening devices and cameras, Arthur removed the slip of paper from his jacket pocket.

I’ve been inducted into the White Russian bratva. I know you’re interested in taking them down. We should work together.

Micah Shine had just become a player in the Great Game, and Arthur was his handler.

This should be interesting.

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed meeting Micah Shine in this tiny preview of my next book!

Shine is Micah’s fall into the world of the Russian mafia. But to take down the White Russian bratva, he needs the help of a small-time con woman who’s just trying to survive in Atlantic City. But he never counted on falling in love with her, and now they’re both in danger.

Get SHINE from your favorite bookseller HERE.

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A BRIT UN-COMPLICATED

BRENDA ST JOHN BROWN

I’M MAKING popcorn on the hob when my mobile rings with a call from Bradley. I smile as I answer, saying, “Let me guess. The client wants to go for drinks and you’re going to be late.”

“I’m going to be a little more than late, unfortunately.” Bradley’s voice sounds like he’s coming off a three-day bender.

My shoulders straighten as I turn down the heat on the burner. Never mind that he’s not the bender type, I know Bradley has been working all day. He crawled out of our bed – reluctantly –at six a.m. to catch the train to Paris, texted me at three o’clock from a meeting back in London, and left a voicemail on the way his business dinner by Borough Market. It’s the kind of schedule that would have me dragging, but days like this energize Mr. Waring-Smith. My old-fashioned popcorn making is just a way of killing time while I wait for him to come home and ravish me.

He’s earned his Bradley Walking-Sex nickname a thousand times over in the years we’ve been together.

“What happened? Is everything okay?” I straighten a little more as I speak, as if good posture can ward off whatever Bradley’s about to say next.

“I’m, um, in the hospital.” Bradley’s voice falters and, I swear to God, my spine might break from the way I snap to attention. I don’t get to say anything before he continues. “I was hurrying to catch the train and I missed a curb and fell. I twisted my ankle, but when I fell, I also gashed my arm. I’m waiting for someone to stitch me up now, and I need an X-ray.”

I turn off the stove and race out of the kitchen as I speak. “What hospital are you in?”

“Guy’s and St. Thomas,” Bradley answers as I stumble to the couch to pull on a boot. “But you don’t have to come down here. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re in A&E. I’m not going to let you stay there by yourself.” I pull on my other boot, dropping my phone in the process. When I pick it back up, I say, “I’m leaving now. Can you stay on the phone or do you need to go?”

“I need to call Amelie in New York. Something tells me I’m not going to make my trip on Sunday.” Bradley lets out a sigh on the other end of the phone.

I can’t help barking out a laugh, but there’s not much humor in it. “I’m sure Amelie will appreciate the fact that you’re in A&E and you’re worried about your business trip.”

“It’s a distraction.” Bradley’s voice softens. “I’m more worried about you. Promise me you’ll take a taxi. It’s late.”

I glance at my Apple watch – a gift from Bradley – and say, “It’s nine-thirty.”

“Please, Scarlett.” There’s no exasperation in Bradley’s tone. He’s seriously the most even-keeled man I know. Before we were together, I assumed he was cold and aloof. Now I know he’s exactly the opposite, but he can still rein in his emotions like nobody’s business.

“Fine.” I bite my lip, but I can’t help letting a sigh escape. I am not one to rein in my emotions and Bradley knows it. “I’ll take a cab.”

“Thank you, darling.” Bradley’s smile is in his tone. “And thank you for coming. I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you. Be nice to your nurses.” I pick up my keys from the bowl by the door and shove my arms through the sleeves of my coat.

I take one last glance around the flat and pause. Should I bring Bradley something more comfortable to put on? He’ll still be in the suit he’s been wearing all day. Surely if I were in the hospital, I’d want my coziest fleece joggers and one of his sweatshirts. Dammit. I’m supposed to be on my way already, and I’m second-guessing casual wear? Although what if he has to stay in the hospital for some reason? He rocks a suit, but not at three a.m. trying to hobble to the toilet with a bum leg.

Grrrr. I run into our bedroom and grab a backpack, shoving in the joggers Bradley wore last night and a long-sleeve t-shirt. I also pick up his book from the bedside table just in case. Bradley’s not one to zone out on his phone, but if we’re there for hours he’s going to need a distraction and there’s only so much I can do in a public place.

By the time I get a cab, it’s nine-fifty and I silently curse myself for taking so long. I could have been there by now if I’d left the house the minute I hung up the phone. The cab driver looks in the rear-view mirror trying to engage in conversation, but he stops after my series of one-word answers. Now that I’m not running around, I let the fact that Bradley’s in the hospital wash over me and it feels a bit like getting knocked off my feet by a rogue wave.

I twist my yellow diamond engagement ring on my finger – my go-to move when I’m anxious. I love this ring almost as much as the man who gave it to me. When he asked me to marry him last year on a surprise birthday trip to the Maldives, I could hardly stop shaking long enough for him to slip the ring on my finger. It was a far cry from my usual confidence and Bradley teased me about it afterwards.

“It’s not like you didn’t see this coming,” he’d said, stroking a finger down my ribcage when we were in bed later.

He was right. We’ve been fully committed to each other since the day I stopped working for him and, although we never really talked marriage, I assumed it would lead there someday. Five years from now someday. Not…yet.

If anyone asked me when I planned to get married, my answer was always: A) I didn’t plan to get married; and B) If I did, not a second before thirty-five. There was too much of the world to see first, and too many men to see it with.

Yet here I am. Twenty-nine with a rock on my finger and only scant memories of salivating over another man.

And no wedding date in sight, which I suspect is Bradley giving me space. He’s heard my thirty-five proclamations like everyone else and I suspect he’d wait if that’s what I wanted. But is it?

I don’t get to think about it anymore as the cab slows in front of the entrance to Guy’s and St. Thomas hospital. As I dig bills from my wallet, my pulse picks up again. Here I am questioning my life choices and my fiancé is in A&E with God only knows what kind of injuries. Oh, I know he told me what happened, but Bradley also has a habit of downplaying things so I won’t worry.

It worked until I saw the big red Accident and Emergency sign.

I push through the doors and the waiting room is chaos. The NHS has been struggling for years with A&E bearing the brunt of the overwhelm, but it’s been a long time since I’ve seen it in person. There are at least fifty people slumped in chairs around the room in various states of distress and a guy at the window is holding a bloody dish towel against his ear. I recoil, but before I have time to fully process what’s happening with him, a person behind the desk calls out, “You, Victoria Beckham. Can I help you?”

I look around, but I’m the only other person standing in the queue. I point to myself as she rolls her eyes and I scurry forward. The first words out of my mouth are, “Victoria Beckham? I’ve never heard that one before.”

“It’s been a long night, love. How can I help you?”

“My fiancé is here. Bradley Waring-Smith? He needs stitches and possibly a cast after a fall?” I hate sounding so tentative, but this woman threw me at a time when I’m already off my game.

It doesn’t do me any favors. She glances down at her computer screen and back up at me, saying, “He’s being seen to. You can have a seat. It may be some time, but don’t worry, he’s being taken care of.”

“No, I don’t think you understand. I’m here to see him. He asked me to come.”

“We don’t allow visitors in A&E, miss.” The woman looks back at her computer screen.

She’s done with me. I can tell, but if I thought my heart was pounding when I walked in here, it’s nothing compared to now. Now it’s a bomb in my chest, ticking so loudly I’m surprised it doesn’t clear the room. I glance at her name tag and my voice is high and thin when I say, “Please, Tracey. I know you have your policy, but you don’t understand. Bradley doesn’t ask for anything and the fact he asked me to come down here means he’s probably not as fine as he wants me to believe. I mean, he’s not fine, obviously. He’s in A&E. But you know what I mean. If you let me sneak back there, I promise no one will know I’m there. I just need to see him.”

“You and half of London.” Tracey rolls her eyes. “I let you back there and every drunk who comes in here needs his mates to hold his hand as he gets sewn up from his self-inflicted injuries.

Understanding dawns on me. “Oh, Bradley’s not drunk. He was at a client dinner. He’s American and he doesn’t believe in getting pissed with clients at all.”

“You’re with the American?” Tracey raises her eyebrows, studying me with more interest. “Suddenly the Victoria Beckham thing makes sense.”

I’m not sure what she means, but it doesn’t matter. I narrow my eyes. “Does this mean you’ll let me slip back there with him? I promise I’ll be good and I won’t tell a soul.”

“Fine, but your American said something about brownies?”

I can’t help smiling. My first one since Bradley called. “When do you work again? I’ll organize it right now.” I pull out my phone to text Bess of Bess’s Brownies in Borough Market. She and I are friends now, which means I throw more business her way than I did before. And we meet for lunch every Wednesday because her flat is right around the corner from my office. Lucky for me, it also means she’s available for an emergency brownie delivery pretty much anytime.

“I work nights all week.” Tracey gets up from her wheelie chair and points to the door to my right. “I’ll buzz you in.”

I shoot off a text to Bess as I walk to the door and press send as I step through into the ward. “Done. Bess’s Brownies will be here tomorrow night around seven, compliments of the American.”

“You have a brownie fairy at your fingertips?” Tracey smiles and it makes her look a million times more approachable.

I know better than to say that, so I just smile and say, “Definitely the next best thing.”

She nods with a knowing look and says, “Your American is in exam room three, which is the third door on the left.”

“Thank you. You’re amazing. I promise I won’t forget this. I owe you forever and ever.”

“Don’t they all.” Tracey rolls her eyes but I don’t even care.

I flash her a grin and race down the hall towards room three.

When I push the door open, Bradley’s lying propped up in bed dressed in a hospital gown, his dress shirt and suit abandoned on a chair. He has a gauze bandage wrapped around his forearm and he’s only wearing one sock, so I can see how swollen his sockless ankle is.

“Oh my God, you really hurt yourself.” I feel how wide my eyes are, but even if I couldn’t, I’d hear it in my voice. I go over and perch on the edge of the bed, resting my hand on his stomach.

“Did you think I was faking it?” The corner of Bradley’s mouth curves up.

“No, but I didn’t expect…this.” I wave my arm in his general direction. “Are you in pain? Should I get the nurse to give you a painkiller?”

“I got some already and it’s working its magic.”

“What about your clothes? I brought you some joggers to change into if you want to be more comfortable?” I set the backpack down on the chair on top of Bradley’s suit.

“I’m okay in this. Honestly, I think if I move too much, the Zen of the painkillers will wear off,” Bradley says.

“We can get you more. Just tell me and I’ll call a nurse. I have an in with Tracey at the front desk.”

“I bet you do.” Bradley grins. “I do have a naughty nurse fantasy I should tell you about sometime, but I’d prefer to wait until we’re somewhere where we can act on it.”

“Well, who says we can’t?” I can’t help smiling and I feel my pulse begin to slow for the first time since Bradley called me almost an hour ago. If he’s making sexual innuendos, he can’t be that poorly. “But first, tell me what happened.”

“I was running for the train and I missed the curb. There was a cyclist coming and I was paying attention to him instead of where I was going.” Bradley grimaces. “When I fell, I gashed my arm on a construction sign, so in addition to stitches, I’ve also gotten a tetanus shot. They sewed me up pretty quickly because I was bleeding everywhere. Small blessing, I guess, because it pushed me to the front of the line. Now, I’m waiting for an X-Ray, which could be awhile.”

“There are a lot of people out there. You’re lucky.” I walk my fingers up his chest. “Why were you taking the train?”

Bradley has a driver who takes him almost everywhere. I used to think it was an indulgence, but it allows him to multitask, which commuting like a normal person does not.

“I gave Ivan the day off. I figured I could get by on cabs and public transit, and I was doing well until I wasn’t.” Bradley twines his fingers with mine. “Enough about me. Tell me about your day.”

“My day was completely average, at least comparatively speaking.” I lean over to kiss Bradley because I don’t want to talk about my mundane day. I want to bleed every detail of Bradley’s accident from him because I obsess when I’m worried and information is a balm to my anxiety. If I know every detail, I won’t be taken by surprise. As I slowly pull away from Bradley’s lips, I say, “Do they think your ankle is broken?”

“They refuse to speculate.” Bradley smiles and clasps my hand. “Stop worrying. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I’m glad you’re here because I knew you’d never forgive me if I didn’t call to tell you what happened.”

“Bloody right, I wouldn’t.” I try to yank my hand away, but Bradley doesn’t let go. “Were you considering it?”

“Only for a minute.” Bradley’s expression softens. “Thank you for coming. I hate hospitals, as you know.”

I do know. Bradley’s aunt died after a long battle with cancer when he was a teenager. While most of his peers were out getting drunk and sneaking into clubs, Bradley was helping to shuttle his aunt to chemo and watching her getting eaten alive by cancer. Needless to say, it made him wary, and he’s never even been to the GP since I’ve known him.

“Well, it’s good I’m here to distract you then, isn’t it?” I grin and lean over to kiss him again.

With a lot of guys, kissing is a prelude to sex and they treat it that way. Bradley kisses like it’s the main event and he is here for it. His kiss is soft and gentle until it turns insistent and sensual, and I’m crawling up his torso like we’re not in a creaky too-small hospital bed.

“You’re going to get us kicked out of here if you don’t stop, you know,” Bradley says with a grin.

“Nah. What time were you last seen?” I glance at the clock above the blood pressure machine.

“Nine o’clock, maybe?” Bradley shrugs.

“So, wait, you didn’t ring me until after you’d already gotten stitches?” I pull back, brow furrowed.

“I was hoping I’d be in and out.”

Bradley looks so chagrined, I have to smile while shaking my head. “You know better.”

“I do.” He bites his lip. “I also didn’t want to worry you unnecessarily.”

I think of my swirling thoughts in the cab and almost give voice to them. But I don’t want to have a life-changing conversation in A&E. So, I do the next best thing. I walk my hands down the front of Bradley’s hospital gown, letting them play on his thighs at the hem.

“You don’t want to worry me unnecessarily, huh?” I grin.

“I think I’m going to regret that, aren’t I?” The expression on Bradley’s face does not look like a man full of regret.

“I don’t think you’re going to regret it nearly as much as you think.” I slide my feet to the floor and kiss him hard on the mouth before starting my way down his neck.

“Someone could come in at any moment, you know.” Bradley’s tone is rough and he catches his breath as my lips move to his collarbone.

“We’ve got at least an hour and you know it.” I let my fingernails scrap along Bradley’s thigh and he opens his legs for me. “Besides, giving you a blow job in a public place is on my fantasy list.”

I kiss my way down his torso, lingering over his chest for a minute. I can’t lift his hospital gown without asking him to sit up but I don’t need to. I’ll see all his ab-ilicious glory later. My hands tug at his boxer briefs beneath his hospital gown and I push them down his thighs with one hand as the other cups his balls gently.

“You’re going to kill me, Scarlett,” Bradley groans.

“Well, good thing you’re in the right place, just in case.” I grin up at him before lowering my head between his legs.

It’s an awkward angle – I’m standing at the side of his hospital bed and Bradley’s still mostly clothed. But when I feel his hand grip my hip and hear the way his breathing accelerates, I feel not only powerful, but aroused. It fuels my enthusiasm and I run my thumb over the tip of his penis before taking it into my mouth.

Normally, I’d savor him. I like oral sex – both as the giver and the recipient – and I especially like it with Bradley. But being in an exam room in A&E necessitates a quickie and my hand and mouth do double time, sliding down his hard shaft in a way I know he loves.

Case in point? He rasps, “Christ, Scarlett. I’m going to come any second.”

Good.

I don’t let up and in the next minute Bradley stiffens, lets out a loud groan and releases into my mouth. I suck him until he pushes gently on my shoulder, then cup his balls one more time before I straighten. He yanks me to him, kissing me roughly, and I clench at his hospital gown.

“I’m making that up to you when we get home,” Bradley growls.

“Make it up to me by calling me next time you’re going to the bloody hospital, not when you’ve been there long enough to get stitches.” I bite my lip to keep from smiling outright as I continue. “Although, obviously, I’ll also take any orgasm you want to give me.”

“Obviously.” Bradley kisses me again, but then we hear commotion outside the door and break apart. We both fumble to pull up his pants – his arm with stitches is sore even with the painkillers and not very mobile – but we’re fully respectable when the door opens and the nurse walks in.

Things move a bit more quickly after the nurse checks Bradley’s vitals again. He’s taken for an X-Ray, then sent back to our little examining room, where we wait for a doctor for what seems like ages. I crawl up in bed with him and we both doze off and on until the doctor comes to tell us his ankle isn’t broken, but there is a hairline fracture, so he’ll be leaving with a boot. I bite my tongue to keep from saying a fracture sounds like it’s broken to me, because it’s clear the doctor is harried and doesn’t need me making her night worse with a bit of snark.

When we finally leave it’s four a.m. and while Bradley’s getting his follow-up instructions, I message his assistant, cancelling his meetings for the day. Then I message my boss and tell him about my evening, ending with a cheery I’ll be working from home. My boss doesn’t believe in working from home, but there’s no way I can be in the office in five hours.

“You know, when I was twenty, I’d stay out until four a.m. and go to work no problem. Now I’m wondering how I did it,” I say in the cab on the way back to our flat.

“Are you admitting my age is catching up with you?” Bradley squeezes my hand. He’s ten years older than me, so this is a running joke between us.

“Possibly.” I shrug and my earlier thoughts come rushing back. This isn’t a conversation I want to have in the back of a cab any more than I want to have it in a hospital A&E, but this time it’s too insistent for me to ignore. “I wouldn’t have it any other way though. You know that, right?”

I mean, considering we live together and we’re engaged, I think this is pretty much a given, but I’m going to need the reassurance before I blurt out what I’m thinking.

“Of course, I know that.” Bradley peers at me in the dim light of the cab. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Bradley has always been astute at picking up on my insecurities. Damn him.

“I was just thinking on my way to the hospital how we’ve been engaged for a while and you’ve been so patient with me about not setting a date.”

“You have your whole thirty-five thing.” Bradley smiles. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know, but…” I bite my lip. This shouldn’t be hard. And yet. “I might, like, not think waiting until I’m thirty-five is so important anymore.”

“What do you mean?” Bradley’s tone is careful and he rubs his thumb on my denim-clad knee.

I take a deep breath. Then two more. Finally, I blurt out, “I think we should set a date. I want to marry you, Bradley Waring-Smith. Soon.”

Bradley’s expression is impossible to read until he breaks out the biggest smile I’ve seen in ages. “You want to marry me?”

I’m tempted to make a joke, but I find my eyes welling up with tears instead and I barely manage to choke out a reply. “More than anything.”

“Scarlett St Julien, I thought tonight was going to be pretty terrible, but you just turned it around completely.” Bradley bends his head and kisses me softly. “We’re going to set a date.”

I nod, squeezing his hand. “We are going to set a date.”

The cab driver eyes us in the mirror, making me think he’s heard our entire conversation, but I don’t care. Bradley grins and says, “So how do you feel about being Mrs. Waring-Smith?”

I can’t help laughing. “One thing at a time, okay?”

“Deal.” He sticks out his hand.

But I shake my head and lean over to kiss him. This is one deal that can only be sealed with a kiss.

About the Author

USA Today bestselling author Brenda St John Brown is a displaced New Yorker living in the English countryside. She’s lived in the UK long enough to gain dual citizenship, but still doesn’t understand Celsius. However, she has learned the appropriate use of the word “pants”. And how to order a proper bacon bap/barm/buttie. Because, well, bacon.

Brenda writes contemporary romance to make you giggle and swoon. When she’s not writing, she enjoys hiking, running and reading. In theory, she also enjoys cooking, but it’s more that she enjoys eating and, try as she might, she can’t live on Doritos alone.

Find Brenda online here: http://brendastjohnbrown.com

Read Scarlett and Bradley’s story: https://books2read.com/ABritComplicated

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INSTANT CHEMISTRY

A POINT OF NO RETURN STORY

BRENNA AUBREY

CHAPTER ONE

WHAT THE HELL was I doing at a club? I never go to dance clubs. Like ever…

But when in Rome… or rather… when in Colorado Springs, you did what the other cadets did after completing Basic Cadet Training.

You celebrated. In an acceptable way for US Air Force Academy freshmen “doolies” to do so, of course. This meant a restrained mixer with some dancing, respectable music and soda drinks at Arnold Hall on campus.

Regardless, it was not my scene. I’d had almost no social life in high school. Being a high-achieving student required that. Having an overprotective Middle Eastern father who didn’t believe in teen dating had only compounded the matter.

“Lexie! There they are—the hot football players from our BCT squadron.” Charlotte nudged me hard. Then she steered us closer to the clump of boys. Not one of them looked like they had any intention of dancing. Why was Charlotte getting her hopes up?

Not that I cared much. I had no idea how to dance. I fancied myself just here to observe the average Academy cadet in their natural social habitat. Like they were an alien species, and I was an expert anthropologist, trying to observe social interactions, nourishment patterns and the strange gyrations in time to music happening on the dance floor.

Now I turned my observations to the visual feast before me. The cadets were all dressed alike—as we always had to be—in uniforms. We’d been ordered to wear service dress—dark blue pants, light blue, short sleeve button-down shirts with the fourth-class shoulder boards we’d received earlier that day at the acceptance parade.

I had to admit that the tall cadet—the one from Hawaii, Cadet Katoa—was very, very fine. Like, as in one of the handsomest boys—scratch that—men—I’d ever seen. Dark eyes, wavy hair, tanned skin, and the physique of an Adonis. My gaze soaked him in for a moment—bulging biceps that threatened to tear the short sleeves that hugged them, broad shoulders, solid chest, trim waist, fit form. Yum.

Charlotte pulled me toward the bar to “refresh our drinks.” Her cup was half empty and I’d only taken a sip of mine. I followed along, happy to continue my study of this new species—young, hot cadets—from a closer angle.

One of them turned to the others and said, “Dude, we can’t just stand here all night. We should all ask someone to dance.”

Another one looked around him. “I’m interested in a few.” Then he turned to the hot Hawaiian. “What about you, Mika? I saw that girl you had your eye on during Basic. Haddad, right?”

Charlotte turned to me, eyes as wide as dinner plates, just as shocked as I was to learn that Cadet Katoa “had an eye” on me. I blinked, doubting I’d heard right. Charlotte mouthed, Oh Em Gee and I waved her off, anxious to hear how Mika Katoa would reply to his buddy’s comment.

“Haddad?” Katoa cocked his head, then shrugged those huge shoulders. “Eh. I thought she was cute at first. Maybe it was basic training goggles and sleep deprivation. She’s all right. Not my type, though. Not planning on dancing tonight, anyway.”

Cue the humiliation from every social nightmare I’d ever had.

Charlotte’s face was comical, going from pleasant surprise to shock to anger in seconds. Her brows knit and she leaned into me. “Well that’s some bullshit, right there. What a jerk.”

I swallowed. The thought of standing here a moment longer made me feel like puking. I set my cup down on the bar and made a beeline for the bathroom. The only problem? I ended up having to cut right in front of Mika Katoa and his buddies. I would not look.

“Dude, I think she heard you,” someone said to him as I force-marched myself to the bathroom.

Great. Well, this was just the cherry on the cake. I shut myself into a stall to swallow the embarrassment. And berate myself for attending this function in the first place.

“Lexie? You all right?” Charlotte asked on the other side of the stall door. I took a deep breath, in and out, trying to calm myself but didn’t answer. “He’s a dick. Not worth hiding in here over. Doesn’t matter how pretty he is on the outside. He’s a flat-out jerk.”

“Charlotte!” I hissed through the door, mortified that someone might overhear.

“There’s no one else in here. I checked. Remember, there’s a 70 to 30 percent gender ratio here. That means the men outnumber us by more than 2 to 1.”

“I can do math, Charlotte. Thanks.”

“What I mean is, that aside from having access to nearly empty bathrooms at all cadet functions, there’s an advantage in other areas. Especially on the dating scene.”

I huffed. “What dating scene? Dating is discouraged during doolie year, anyway. Four-degree cadets don’t date—they drill, they march, they live, eat, and breathe the military. That’s why we’re here.”

“But we aren’t blind. Or dead. We can still look, assess, and cadets are fine to date after first year. What I’m trying to say is, as girls here, we have the power.”

“Well apparently I’m only okay-looking and not anyone’s type so…”

She laughed. “Only if you listen to that guy who’s so stuck-up he can’t notice anything beyond his own big dumb muscles. He’s too in love with his own reflection to notice anyone else. Forget Mika Katoa. There are tons of other hot cadets out there who’ll love your gorgeous, shiny dark hair, your pretty blue eyes, your curvy body. You are a total babe.”

My fists closed. “I didn’t work this hard for so long to get into one of the most exclusive schools in the country just to shop for guys on the meat market!”

She tapped on the metal door between us. “No one said you were shopping on the meat market. I’m not here for that, either. But we’re eighteen, freshly minted adults, and it’s our first time away from home. Time to enjoy life a little…or as much as the Air Force will allow. Time to leave the toilet, Lex.”

I blew out a breath and laughed. “Fine.”

I unlocked the door to my stall just as two other cadets entered the restroom. Charlotte whispered to me as we washed our hands. “He needs a good angry hair-flip in his general direction.”

“Angry hair-flip? What does that mean?”

“It means you flip your hair at him while you jerk your head away to emphasize that he’s nothing to you.”

I snorted. “That sounds like something straight outta junior high school. Besides, none of us has long hair here or we have to wear it in a bun. How do you flip hair you don’t have?”

“It’s a symbolic gesture. I’m telling you, it works. It will make you feel better. Like you’re brushing him off.”

“Like he’s some kind of bug? Like a tick?”

She shrugged. “Sure, if that works for you.”

When we exited the bathroom, I was quite sure that I would not be performing an angry hair-flip.

But when we practically collided with a group of guys—the very same group that had mentioned my name to him, that big handsome lug at the center of the man-clump—I had no idea what to do.

A few of them turned to me. One of them nudged Cadet Katoa, who followed their gaze. Our eyes met. My heart raced at the base of my throat in icy mortification.

In the corner of my vision, Charlotte literally cringed. My fists clenched at my sides and, holding that gaze, I froze like an armadillo in a crosswalk.

And then, I panicked.

Spinning on my heel, I jerked my shoulder around, a sudden turn of my head and—yep, I’m ashamed to admit that I did an angry hair-flip at him.

The fatal flaw in a maneuver, however, was that I wasn’t looking in the direction I was walking. I was too busy sticking my nose in the air. But to my horror, I jostled a busboy I hadn’t seen, who in turn, dropped his bin of empty plates and half-full glasses…which crashed against the bar and all over the guys I’d just rebuffed.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” I said to the busboy. “I didn’t see you there.”

He tensed his jaw, clearly irritated, and bent to retrieve his bin. And that’s when I saw it—the damage my stupid little maneuver had caused.

The ice and half-filled glasses had only splashed most of the guys, but one guy in particular had taken the full brunt of the spillage. Cadet Katoa stood, stone-faced, dripping from head to toe, liberally splashed with every color of sugar-sticky carbonated liquid imaginable.

“You should be apologizing to him, not me,” the busboy snapped.

Mika Katoa stared at me with a kind of bewildered rage that threatened to haunt my dreams in days to come. He definitely looked like a pissed-off rodeo bull who’d just bucked off his rider and was ready to charge and trample.

I swallowed as, instead of charging at me, Katoa spun and stalked off towards the men’s room, arms stiff, hands clenched in fists. Half his buddies followed, and the other half snickered, joked and stared at me.

A hand clamped on my arm, mercifully dragging me away from the humiliating scene. Fuck.

Charlotte whispered in my ear. “It’ll be okay. He’s not in our squadron anymore and I doubt you’ll even see him much this year. We’ll all be super busy.”

“Well, that’s fortunate. If I never see him again, it will be far too soon.”

CHAPTER TWO

“NEVER” came eight days, sixteen hours and some number of minutes later.

It was the first day of classes. I was finally getting my fresh start. All the appropriate school supplies had been purchased, labeled and organized. The familiarity of the process had comforted me. I’d done this every semester in high school, fixing to succeed. All that effort had led up to this day—my very first day at the academy.

I already had a long “to do” list by the time chemistry lab rolled around later in the day. We’d start by getting a partner assignment and completing a full safety orientation.

It was our instructor, Captain Forsyth, who paired everyone up as partners and assigned them a table. But I ended up being the last one standing. I hovered near the front of the classroom, hugging my notebook and biting my lip, feeling like the last kid on the playground picked for the team.

Would I have to work alone all semester?

“Your partner is on his way. He had a schedule conflict he needed to resolve. Sit tight while I check in with the other partners.”

I nodded. “Oh, great. May I ask who—”

But she was no longer listening. She was focused on something behind me, and at the same time, I heard someone enter the classroom behind me.

“Ah good, Cadet Katoa. Glad that didn’t take as long as you thought. I was just telling your partner, Cadet—”

I spun on my heel, shocked by the name, and we locked gazes. Mika Katoa stopped in his tracks and instead of speaking to the teacher, he stared straight at me.

“Haddad,” he finished for the instructor.

My intestines immediately took a deep dive toward the floor.

“You two have met? Great. Table seven, over in the corner.”

I blinked, unmoving. “But—”

“Is there a problem, cadet?” Captain Forsyth arched a brow at me.

I blinked, tearing my eyes away from Katoa’s glare. “N—no. No problem, ma’am.”

“Good, table seven so we can get started on safety protocols.”

Sheepishly, I made my way to the table indicated, throwing my hulking new partner a sidelong glance. He trundled after me. This revelation that we were now lab partners couldn’t be any more pleasant for him than it was for me.

We barely exchanged pleasantries or much of any conversation as we progressed through the lab safety orientation. We were given matching light blue smocks, gloves and goggles to protect ourselves and our uniforms while we worked.

The few times I inadvertently made eye contact with him, he jerked his gaze away, saying nothing. And me, well I just sat at that table, slowly dying inside. In my head, I replayed, over and over again, the image of crashing with the busboy and that bin full of drinks dumping all over him, his uniform, red liquid dripping off the tip of his nose while he stood frozen.

He probably thought I’d done it on purpose.

“Listen,” I began as we stashed our safety equipment in lockers and gathered our books, ready to leave an hour later. “About last weekend…”

He raised a large hand and, grimacing, said. “Save it, Haddad. You need to work on that clumsiness if you want to make it here. I don’t just want, but need a good grade in this class. That’s the only thing I care about. Don’t mess it up for me. No fumbling, no clumsy accidents, nothing that warrants a half-hearted apology. You bring your A-game to this lab and we won’t have any problems. Got it?”

My jaw had grown progressively tighter during his entire speech. I suspected he’d spent the entire hour composing it in his head. Maybe that was just me projecting, because it’s totally what I would have done. Now my temples were throbbing and steam was about to escape my ears. This guy didn’t care who he rubbed the wrong way.

I simply gave him a tight, “Got it.”

Even if I had been able to come up with some tart reply, he would have been long gone before I could get it out. It always seemed to work out like that.

This didn’t bode well for the rest of the semester.

In spite of that inauspicious start, things went okay for a few weeks. But I would never go so far as to characterize them as smooth. We never communicated outside of class and only barely while working on our lab experiments. His typical contributions to any conversation were monosyllabic or plain old grunting.

It wasn’t super pleasant.

Charlotte wasn’t helpful when I complained to her about it while we were cleaning our rooms and remaking our beds in preparation for room inspection. “He’s totally into you,” she declared with certainty, eyes lighting up.

“Uh, if that’s showing he’s into a girl, then how does he express loathing someone? You seriously have a one-track mind.”

She shrugged. “Jemison said that Katoa liked you.”

I rolled my eyes and tossed a pillow at her. “It was a one-off remark that Katoa completely denied. Guys teasing each other—or something.”

“But you still think he’s cute, right?”

I sighed but refused to answer. Of course, I thought he was cute—hot—delish—fill-in-your-euphemism of choice. “There’s more than just physical attraction.”

It would not do to dwell too long on his tall, dark good looks, the solid body, the muscley arms. That thick, dark hair that begged for me to run my fingers through it. Not that I’d have anything to compare it to. Casual dates were about as far as I’d gotten in high school. There weren’t many guys with the type of looks that threatened to distract me from my studies in my small hometown of Rosado, Texas.

As for Mika Katoa… men really shouldn’t be that handsome. Or if they were, they should come with a warning label. Danger when hot. Hot all the time.

I’d never thought myself the type to get twitterpated over a guy. That quickening heartbeat whenever our fingers brushed or when he bent over me to watch what I was doing while titrating a solution into the mixture, or while we cleaned up our workspace at the end of the class. It was so pervasive that it was starting to get nerve-wracking.

It didn’t help that I couldn’t keep from noticing the way he’d shown up with wet hair and smelling of soap from a very recent shower. I knew his squadron usually worked out with a long run before class. And for some reason, though we both wore the same uniform every single day, his was extra-hot. Maybe it was the practically-dripping dark hair. Maybe it was the way his veins bulged on his arms, muscles pumping with blood post-workout.

I blew out a breath in frustration. So, the grumpy, laconic, Hawaiian flyboy was cute. Get over it already, Lex.

But easier said than done.

By the time our first midterm for chem lab rolled around, these thoughts had been rolling around in my brain for a while. I had the reminders not to notice him on a constant loop, remembering the abrupt way he’d told me, Don’t mess it up for me. No fumbling, no clumsy accidents…

He arrived already tense and no chattier than usual. Me? I was nervous, unpacking our kit with slightly shaky hands while rereading the instructions on how to perform the lab.

In spite of my determination, however, it was hard to concentrate. Okay, fine, nearly impossible. It didn’t help that he muttered under his breath just before we started the timed experiment, “Okay, don’t fuck this up.”

I clenched my teeth in irritation. Now I was extra jumpy.

I started to add to the water in our mixture when he stopped me.

“Goggles, Haddad.”

“Oh, right.” I pulled them down from the top of my head and adjusted them over my eyes. “Thanks.”

He shrugged. “They’ll take off points for ignoring safety regulations.” As if he honestly didn’t care if I burned my eyeballs out of their sockets as long as he didn’t get points docked. Gee, thanks.

I raised a brow at him. “Your goggles are fogging up. Nervous, Katoa?” I smirked cheekily. They were so fogged up, it looked seriously impossible to see through them.

With a sigh, he pulled off the goggles and began wiping out the insides. I grabbed the chunk of sodium with the lab tweezers and waited.

But the motion of his hands, the movement of his forearms… I was fascinated. Then shook my head and turned back to what I was doing but…

“Wait—” he muttered, fumbling with his goggles, dropping them, then bending to pick them up.

Distracted, I let the sodium slip from my tweezers and into the solution, which immediately turned bright pink. That’s when I remembered—far too late—that I was only supposed to put in a chunk a third that size. I dodged the instant flame that shot up and out of the container as the alkali metal melted in the water. Katoa picked that exact moment to straighten from retrieving his goggles.

The flame flashed full in his face in an instant and was out, sending up a billowing cloud of smoke. We both jumped back, coughing furiously. “Are you all right? Are you burned?”

His face was covered in black soot but that wasn’t the obvious problem… he now had no eyebrows. Like none.

He was still holding his goggles and reached for the nearby towel, which I yanked out of his hands. I turned and grabbed a clean one from a container.

“That has chemicals on it. Use the decontamination shower—”

Ohhh. Damn. This was so not good.

Katoa hadn’t moved. Just glared at me, looking like he wanted to wrap his hands around my neck and squeeze as hard as possible.

Our instructor was there in two seconds flat, fire extinguisher in hand, while everyone in the class turned from their work and stared. There wasn’t anything left to extinguish.

“Decontamination shower, Katoa.” He complied by poking his head under the fixture and yanking on the chain. Without a word, I handed him the clean towel to dry off.

Mika Katoa continued to fume, murderous glare intact, arm muscles flexing in time with his fists opening and closing in rage.

Gulp.

I blinked. “Uh…”

“Katoa, no eyewear? Are you all right?” Captain Forsyth barked.

He had no answer for his superior officer, so I jumped in.

“It was my fault. I added too much sodium, too quickly. It’s entirely on me.”

She turned to me only briefly before fixing her gaze back on Katoa. “Well yeah, that’s obvious. Not paying attention to instructions directly impacts your score. Failing to follow essential safety protocols, however, gets you both an automatic fail on the midterm.” She rounded on him, her shoulders squaring. “In addition, Cadet Katoa, I’m not liking the attitude. You’ll be staying after to clean up the entire lab so that it’s spotless. That’s every table, every container, every beaker and test tube. Floor swept and mopped. Got it?”

Mika snapped to attention immediately. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll—I’ll help you,” I told him, when our instructor went back to supervising the rest of the class who, after briefly rubbernecking at us, turned back to their own work.

Upon closer inspection, I could see that not only were his eyebrows completely gone, but also a good part of his thick, dark lashes. The flame had flashed so briefly that, while hot enough to singe his facial hair, hadn’t left any burns on his skin, thankfully.

Nevertheless, he looked… pretty funny now. Like permanently shocked or deeply afraid.

Despite the fact that we’d failed our midterm, he put those goggles back on his face, returned to our station, and sat down, folding his arms and brooding. His jaw bulged where he clenched it and relaxed. Over and over and over.

I busied myself, trying not to look at him, while scrubbing our station from top to bottom.

When class was over, he told me to go so he could carry out his punishment. But I ignored him and worked my way from the far side of the room back toward our station. I was used to cleaning, so I was faster than him.

Once I got closer, I could hear that he was muttering to himself. “What the fuck did I do to deserve a walking bombshell of a partner?”

“Hey!” I turned, gesturing at him with a rag in my hand. “I resent that. You’ve been uncooperative and rude for weeks.”

His eyes narrowed and again, without the aid of brows and lashes, it didn’t have the effect I think he was going for. “People tend to react that way when you spill drinks all over them at social events.”

“That was an accident!”

“Was it? Or were you butthurt because you overheard me telling Stilson that I wasn’t going to ask you to dance? You were totally getting back at me in the most immature way possible.”

I frowned. “I admit it wasn’t mature, but it wasn’t on purpose. I was… I was doing an angry hair-flip.” Jesus, the humiliation of admitting that. I needed to tell Charlotte where she could shove her angry hair-flip maneuver.

“A what? Are you for real?”

“Are you for real? I mean, be a dick and hold a grudge if you want. Believe me or don’t, but I wouldn’t purposely spill drinks on someone unless they grabbed my ass or something like that. Your comment wasn’t worth the effort. It. Was. An. Accident.”

He shook his head. “You’re a walking disaster. A bombshell.”

“Well you’re just a… huge, angry… a big lug,” I stammered.

He tried to raise his eyebrows at that… but he didn’t have any. I would have laughed, had it not been my fuckup that had caused his current state of hairlessness.

“You’re not helping. Just go. This is my punishment.”

I almost stomped my foot. “Two-thirds of the lab is clean. I’m not leaving. If you have to skip dinner for this, then so do I.”

“We’re failing the class now.”

I nodded. It was early enough in the semester that this could be salvageable—with a more amenable partner.

But with one who stared at me like he couldn’t stand the sight of me? How could I work with that?

CHAPTER THREE

THE ANIMOSITY between us grew much faster than his eyelashes and eyebrows. We were getting by on our various joint assignments, but things weren’t pretty. Neither was our joint grade.

I was outscoring him on every test, which seemed to piss him off even more. Under normal circumstances, I’d feel bad. But he was doubling down on the jerkiness.

Regardless, I was so determined to get an A in this class, I was willing to eat crow to do it. And I most definitely wasn’t going to let some big angry lug stand in my way.

We need to meet up and talk about chemistry class, I texted him one day, about a week later. I added a smiley emoji, hoping that might take the edge off.

From the looks of his reply, it didn’t appear to have helped. Bombshell, anything you gotta say to me, you can tell me in class.

I heaved a sigh. Fucking A. However, I had an ace in the hole—I happened to know where his squadron was housed, not far from mine. Since everyone ate dinner at roughly the same time, and Academic Call to Quarters was shortly after that, I knew when I could find him there.

I accosted him in the commons room, where I’d been waiting. He did not look happy to see me. Well, that made two of us, damn it.

“Hey there, Cadet Katoa.”

When his gaze landed on me, he froze. He still had that strange scared-old-man look to him without the eyebrows and the lashes. I was aware that some of his buddies had been teasing him mercilessly, calling him “Alien.”

Do not laugh at him. Do NOT laugh! I had to swallow a laugh regardless of my improvised mantra.

He just stared at me without a word.

I held up the bottle of Vitamin E oil I’d purchased online. “Hey, I brought a peace offering. Can we talk?”

His eyes narrowed, clearly suspicious. But he cooperated when I waved to a seat so we could sit down and I could explain. He ushered us to the far corner of the room, as if afraid to be seen with me. When we sat, he shook the pill bottle and threw me a skeptical look. “What am I supposed to do with this? Take a pill? How do I know you didn’t lace it with arsenic?”

I glared at him. “You’re annoying but not worth the murder charge and possible life sentence in military prison.”

He blinked. Without eyelashes, the effect was comical.

“You don’t swallow it. You open up the gel capsule with a pin.” I pulled one off the collar of my uniform and poked a hole in a vitamin gel. “You use the oil inside and smooth it on your eyebrow area. I wouldn’t do anything for the eyelashes. This stuff would hurt if it got in your eyes. So yeah, it will help your eyebrows grow in faster.”

He watched as I squeezed the gel and he took a little oil on the tip of his finger, then smudged it somewhere in the vicinity of his former eyebrows.

“No, you’re doing it in the wrong place. It doesn’t go under the eye ridge. The oil will irritate your eyes. Here.”

I stood up and smoothed my thumb, catching some of the sticky liquid and moving it across his strong brow ridge. “Right where your brows were—are. You might want to use a mirror for applying it.”

I reached down, got more liquid on my thumb to repeat the action on his other missing eyebrow. Though I was focused, I was aware that he’d opened his eyes and was watching me. I swallowed, suddenly feeling nervous under his scrutiny.

Then I made the mistake of looking down into his eyes once I was done. Our gazes locked and—instead of being awkward, it was…. There was tension between us, but it wasn’t anger or conflict.

It was something else. Heated and intense.

My cheeks flamed and I stepped away, grabbing a tissue from my pack to wipe off my fingers and to recover from—from whatever that was.

When I dared a glance at him, he was frowning, tracing a finger over his own brow. “I’m just supposed to walk around with this stuff on my face?”

I handed him a tissue to clean up. “Well, you could do it at night. For right now, just wait a minute for it to seep in and then rub it in or wipe it off if you’re in a hurry somewhere.” I pointedly checked my watch. Academic Call To Quarters wasn’t for another forty-five minutes, which meant I still had time to approach him about the chemistry partnership.

“You sure this will work?” he asked.

“Girls buy Vitamin E oil by the gallon to help their hair grow faster.”

He stared at me, clearly doubtful. However, he wasn’t wiping off the oil, either, which was a good sign. I cleared my throat to break the awkward silence that followed. “I’m really glad you weren’t seriously injured.”

His cheek bulged where he clenched his jaw. “No, just my pride.”

I laughed and an unexpected smile split his face. He seemed quite pleased with himself that he’d gotten me to laugh.

I tilted my head. “I really am sorry.”

His shoulders seemed to relax. “You don’t have to keep repeating that. You’re trying to make it right. Ho’opono’pono, as they say in Hawai’i.”

I raised my eyebrows hopefully. “So does that mean we can move past it?”

He gave a shy smile and nodded his head slowly.

I sighed, relieved. “Good, because… I wanted to talk about our chem grade.”

He suddenly sobered. “What makes you think I have a bad grade? I’m not just some dumb jock, you know.”

My eyes widened in disbelief. “I never said you were a dumb jock.”

“You called me Big Lug.”

“That’s just… well—”

He tilted his head as if urging me to answer.

“It has nothing to do with me thinking you were dumb. It’s just in reference to all the—all the—” I waved at him vaguely.

“All the what?”

“The big—the tall—all the muscles.” He blinked, and I continued. “And besides, I needed something to say back to you when you called me Bombshell.”

“All the muscles? You mean these?” He flexed his bicep and I watched, fascinated, as the material of his sleeve strained around the bulge. I visibly gulped, and a wicked smile crept across his face.

My own face burned. It might not have been due to a chemical reaction but definitely due to a hormonal one. That thought made me blush even harder. I looked away, suddenly nervous.

A light smile danced on his lips. “There’s more than one meaning to Bombshell, you know.” Then he lifted those chocolate eyes, still beautiful in spite of the missing lashes, and met my gaze. “So what did you have in mind?”

I blinked. Hard. My eyes fluttered. “Uh, what?”

“About our chem grade. You have some proposal?”

Oh yeah. That. Focus, Lex. Stop marveling at the beautiful man.

“Uh, well, I think we can fix this if we work hard at it. Together. We need to go over our procedure and supplies list together ahead of time. Also, we could prep a dry run the day before class, so we know exactly what we’re doing.”

He appeared to mull that over as if he were thinking about it and ultimately going to reject the offer. So I couldn’t resist adding. “Unless you’re only here to fly planes and play football.”

He darted a look at me. “Don’t forget about working on my big muscles.” He flexed again, this time both arms, and laughed when my eyes bulged. He was having way too much fun teasing me.

“We could also study for tests together, if you want a study buddy.”

He frowned. “Study buddy?”

I shrugged, looking away. “Yeah, well. I’m doing pretty well on the tests despite the disaster we seem to be in the chem lab. But I could, um, use someone to bounce questions off of.”

He nodded. “Okay. That’s fine.”

A minute later, he stood, still gripping the vitamin bottle. “Thank you for this. Text me your schedule and we’ll make it work.”

I stood too, nodding. “Great.”

And with that, I acquired a large and sometimes-grumpy chemistry study buddy—and hopefully a more cooperative lab partner.

CHAPTER FOUR

FOR THE MOST PART, our pact to study together four times a week went well.

But our days consisted of waking up at 0500 and working out before a full day of classes. Then military education and drills in the afternoon, while squeezing in meals. It made for full—and exhausting—days.

One night, we were studying across from each other in the commons room of his dorm building. It was Friday night, so many upperclassmen had left for the weekend. As 4-degree cadets, we weren’t allowed that privilege. Nevertheless, the commons room was empty as people were hanging out with friends, studying in the library, or catnapping. The football season had ended the week before. We had one short month before finals and the dreaded final semester grades.

The test on the following Monday required our full attention, so the weekend was devoted to intense quizzing.

“So, noble gasses do not bond because…?” I asked him trusty notecards in hand.

He sighed. “Because they can’t be bothered? They like the single life?”

I cracked a smile, acknowledging the joke, then waited for the answer. He finally shrugged. “I’m blanking, sorry. I need a refresher on which ones are the noble gases.”

I turned my book around on the coffee table between us.

“If you look at this column on the periodic table of elements, you see that they’re all lined up by…”

I pointed it out upside down. He frowned, his not-quite-grown-in eyebrows furrowed in confusion. I was pointing to the wrong column.

“Oops, sorry. I guess I fail at reading upside down.” I craned my head and he scooted over on the couch, pointing to the empty spot.

“You could just come over here, so you don’t have to explain it upside down.”

Without a word, I complied. The couch wasn’t huge. It was more like a love seat, and with his big frame it was… cozy. We only touched each other when one or the other moved an arm or leg. Sometimes we brushed each other by accident.

“So these are the gases with a full exterior shell?” he asked.

“Yes, so they don’t need electrons from another molecule to fill the electron vacancy.”

I stifled a yawn against the back of my hand, not quite realizing how exhausted I was until I’d settled into the soft cushions. I have no idea when I drifted off, or when he drifted off, for that matter. But a while later, his roommate shook us awake.

“Guys, it’s nearly Taps. We gotta get to our rooms before curfew sweep.”

My eyes cracked open to find myself slumped over the hard, muscular body of my chemistry partner. He was leaning way back in his seat, head lolled to the side and—the most perplexing thing—his thick, strong arm was across my back, as if holding me in place while I used his wide chest as a pillow.

And worse, up close like this, he smelled amazing, like coconut and soap. A rush of heat crackled through my body, shaking my dozy brain awake.

I straightened and then shook Mika’s shoulder. “Hey. Time for Taps.”

I stood, collected my books and other study materials, and bent to shove them in my sack. Checking my watch, I saw that I had three whole minutes to get back to my dorm and up one flight of stairs. I hardly had a moment to think about how it had felt to wake up after sleeping on him with his strong arm wrapped around me. Or when I straightened from loading my bag and turned to tell him goodbye—only to catch him staring right at my ass before he realized I saw and looked away.

But I sure had plenty of time to reflect over it later. I wondered… was Mika as attracted to me as I was to him?

On Saturday, we chose a safer spot to study. Or at least, what I thought would be a safer spot… in the library.

We were seated at a table, near his study carrell on the all-too-quiet engineering floor. Way back in the hinterlands, where the stacks collected so much dust you could run a Mars simulation.

And there we studied.

We had to sit close to each other—as you do, merely to keep our voices down to a respectful level. We shared notes and writing implements and looked up answers to study questions. We also quizzed each other.

Surprisingly, even back here, we were occasionally disturbed by people walking by.

I completely ignored it. However, Mika seemed to grow agitated.

When the third group passed by, he blew out a breath and ran a hand through his dark hair. My eyes lingered on that hair, so shiny and gorgeous, like the rest of him. I wondered if his hair smelled as amazing as his skin.

I swallowed and shook my head to clear it of the thought. “What’s wrong?” I whispered after the pair had vanished.

“People are coming back here to go make out in the stacks.”

I frowned, staring after where the others had vanished. “What? No, they aren’t… what makes you think that?”

“They’ve all been couples. You didn’t notice that last couple was holding hands?”

I blinked. Well, no. I sure hadn’t.

“They’re back there… having sex?” I whispered, shocked.

He laughed. “No, probably not, but I bet there’s a lot of kissing and groping going on.”

I refused to believe him until he dared me to get up and go further into the stacks to seek out where they’d disappeared. He followed me.

When we heard movement in the next aisle over, Mika stopped me with a heavy hand on my shoulder and I turned to him. He laid a finger on his lips to silence me, then slowly reached over to pull out a stack of five books from the shelf beside us. I hardly had time to marvel at how big his hands were that he could hold that many books in just one.

I bent to peer through the hole he’d created. There were books on the facing shelf into that aisle, but I was able to get a glimpse of what was happening and…

Wow, it was a doozy. There were wandering hands, smacking noises, lots of tongue. They were going at it so passionately that it looked like they were trying to eat each other’s faces off.

I backed up with a semi-loud gasp of surprise that I hadn’t planned to release. He shoved the books hastily back on the shelf and, in doing so, one dropped and bounced open on the floor between us.

I bent to pick it up… at the same time he did. Our hands on the book touched and something sizzled right through me. But the really intense part of it happened when I looked up and met his gaze. Those dark brown eyes burrowed into mine and not in the angry, annoyed way I was used to seeing them.

No, there was something else there… something that reflected back to me what I was feeling right now. More than curiosity or interest, more like… hunger.

I swallowed and we froze, standing there holding that stupid book for too many minutes as we stared at each other like the other had grown a third eye in their forehead.

Then, almost as if someone had flicked a switch, he released his hold on the book at the same time he broke the gaze. With a deep breath, he took a step back, giving me space I didn’t necessarily want.

The moment, whatever it had been, was over, the spell broken. But my heart was sure racing like I’d just done a twenty-minute 5k followed by two hundred jumping jacks. And maybe several dozen pushups besides.

Gulp.

Well it wasn’t long now before the semester would be over. Would we see each other that much afterward? Probably in passing, here and there. He was an engineering major, and I was in biology. Different squadrons. Signs didn’t point to yes.

But as I made my way back to the table, I couldn’t help but wonder why that thought made me depressed.

CHAPTER FIVE

OUR FINAL DEMONSTRATION project went off without a hitch. Just as we’d spent the previous two days practicing in about half a dozen dry runs.

Our lab instructor even complimented how well we worked together. Whenever I anticipated needing some implement or ingredient, he had it ready for me before I even reached for it. Our safety protocol was spot on and everything went perfect, smooth.

As we recorded our findings on our respective laptops, we exchanged a discreet fist bump under the lab table. Unless something bizarre happened, we’d not only pass the class, but receive high enough marks to bring our grade up to a high B or low A. We’d even calculated how many points each of us needed to do that ahead of time.

The night before, as we’d done that math and he went over his various test grades, he sincerely thanked me for helping him study. He pointed to the higher scores on the spread sheet. “See? This is when we started study-buddying. I have you to thank for that.” His smile seemed all the brighter with his dark, bushy eyebrows and lush lashes, now replenished as if nothing had ever happened.

Moved that he wasn’t too caught up in some sort of toxic masculinity to acknowledge my help, I smiled. “I was happy to do it. My grade went up, too.”

My gaze met his and… there was a silence, a small smile, a spark of something. Where the touch of his eyes struck an almost physical blow to my chest—threatening to knock the wind out of me. I blinked and stared, feeling like I’d jumped out of a speeding cargo truck wearing full gear during a drill. And slammed on the ground, knocking my breath out. It left me trying to catch my breath, heart banging and with a throat so tight I could barely manage a swallow.

It felt good. Thrilling.

We’d just had another one of those moments. They came more and more frequently since that day in the library. They’d ceased to be awkward, transformed into something more… charged. Like the building blocks of chemical elements held together by a universal, magnetic force.

After I finished up my lab report, fixing typos, we exchanged laptops, as rehearsed, to proofread each other’s descriptive findings before submitting them. My hand brushed his as I returned his laptop. And from the surprising shakiness in his reactions, it appeared that some of my protons had zapped some of his electrons.

Our eyes met… a smile, a shock and a crackle.

And then… me turning away as I tried and failed to suppress a heated blush.

Once class let out, he nudged me. “After finals tomorrow night, my squad is hosting an end of the semester party. Do you want to come?”

I arched a brow and turned to him, trying hard but probably failing to show my surprise. I opened my mouth to answer, feeling a rush of flattery until…

“I mean, I’ve been tasked with asking all the girls I know, so it would be great if you could come. And bring your roommate.”

I blinked, hugging my books to my chest, suddenly deflated. “I’ll, ah, think about it and let you know. Good luck on the rest of your tests.”

“Thanks, Bombshell. You too.”

I stared after him as his large form vanished into the crowd. Could I have imagined his interest? Had I been projecting? I wasn’t that experienced with men, but… I couldn’t have been that far off, could I?

Maybe I should take the risk and ask him out? I set my teeth. Damn it. If only there were some way to read someone’s mind and truly know how they felt.

With a sigh, I reminded myself that there were still finals to take—and worlds to conquer. I couldn’t afford any more minutes thinking about that Big Lug. Even if I really wanted to.

CHAPTER SIX

WHEN I LOGGED in the next afternoon after my last final, I clicked straight on the chemistry lab results and saw it—97 out of 100 on the final exam and an A- in the class.

I was over the moon.

Snatching up my phone, I texted Mika.

Did you see our final exam grade? Did you?

While I waited for his reply, I scrolled through my other grades, all excellent. With the song of victory singing in my veins, I felt like I’d just climbed Everest or swam the English Channel.

Or my real goal: earned my astronaut wings by launching past the Kármán line. Someday. When I finally got to do that, it would probably feel something like this.

My phone chimed with his reply. Just logged in when I got your text. That is badass.

I knew you could do it, Big Lug.

His response came back immediately. I’m very happy with my B in the class, thank you. I hope you did well with your final grade.

I smiled, keying in my reply. I did. A-. I’ll take it!

Just wanted to ask again to come hang out tonight. I hope it didn’t sound like I was inviting you just because. We can celebrate our victory over punch and cake.

A thrill snaked through me, and my heart might have fluttered a little bit. To say nothing of that silly grin on my face.

Well if there’s cake, then I’m all in. Save me a slice.

Charlotte was enthusiastic about coming with me and “scoping out the dudes” in Mika’s squadron. She nudged me in the arm sharply, a sly grin on her lips. “With reluctance, I’ll leave the stunningly handsome Cadet Katoa to you, since he obviously digs you as much as you dig him.”

We were almost to their squadron’s floor in the dorm. I shushed her. “Keep your voice down. What even makes you think—”

She shook her head, laughing. “Denial, Lexie. You are so deep in it that you’re seeing the Great Pyramid and Sphinx. You talk about him. All. The. Time.”

I shushed her again and chose not to argue or she’d do something stupid and say his name again—loudly. In front of his squad mates.

We went in search of the dorm room with the cake in it. They had fashioned some makeshift tables by pushing desks together. There were streamers and balloons—in Air Force blue and gold, of course. And signs, One down, one to go, speaking of the semesters left until we became upper classmen and could throw off our 4-degree shackles to gain extra privileges.

I finished my first piece of cake and snatched another one as discreetly as I could before I almost dropped it when Mika appeared at my side. His dinner-sized plate had no less than three pieces piled on it.

“I guess it takes a lot of cake to fill up a Big Lug,” I teased.

“At least you didn’t pull a Bombshell move and drop yours—”

“The night is still young.”

We tried talking further, but it was so loud and getting more crowded as the word spread that there was free cake. Mika asked if I wanted to sit somewhere quieter and I followed him out of the room.

That ‘somewhere quieter’ ended up being down the hall, in his dorm room. A few others milled about—his roomie and a couple other guys sat on his bed playing some game on their phones. Mika and I sat on his bed and munched our cake in awkward silence.

“So tell me about Hawaii. I’ve never been there. Which one of the islands do you live on?”

He wiped his mouth with a large blue party napkin. “I’m from Kaua’i. I think there are only two others here from Kaua’i.”

“I imagine the Navy is the bigger choice for armed forces there?”

He made a face and I laughed. Apparently I’d touched a nerve.

“I’ve helped out with my family’s inter-island transport company for years. Got my pilot license at sixteen. It was a no-brainer that I’d go Air Force. How about you. Have you flown yet?”

I nodded, telling him I’d gotten my civilian pilot’s license the spring before graduating high school. And we talked like that, at ease, for hours—most of the night. We munched on cake, sipped our bright red punch, laughed, and went back for seconds or thirds or whatever. There wasn’t a word of discussion about chemistry, but there was plenty of chemistry happening in that room. And as time passed, we didn’t even notice when the others had left and we were alone.

Maybe it was a sugar high making my head spin. Maybe it was the headiness of victory over a first semester well-finished.

Or maybe it was the nearness of him.

His uniform—and him underneath it—smelled amazing. I sent him a dopey smile.

He stopped what he was saying and gave me a quizzical look. “What?”

“You have frosting on the corner of your mouth.” I laughed. “I’ve been staring at it for the last ten minutes.”

His brow knit and he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. But it was the wrong side. So I reached out and nabbed it for him. I have no idea what possessed me to do that. Maybe it was my fascination with his delicious-looking lips. If I kiss him now, would it taste like cake?

He watched as I did it, then looked up at me, his eyes fixing straight on my mouth. “You have a red punch mustache.”

Our eyes locked and there it was again. That feeling… that crackle and buzz, like the hum of electricity.

“Do I?” I asked quietly, not even ashamed at how my voice trembled when I spoke.

He reached out a strong finger and touched my top lip, tracing along it. “Right there…”

I blinked, suddenly unable to breathe under his touch. “Is it gone?”

He bent his head, as if getting a closer look, but his eyes locked straight on mine. He wasn’t looking at my mouth when he whispered. “No.”

And a second after that, his mouth was on mine. And we were kissing. His frosting and my punch, mixing together in a tasty combo. Oh my God. It was as delicious as I’d anticipated.

Heat rushed through me as he dipped his head to land another kiss. Then another. Then he pulled back, and before he could get very far, I looped my arms around his neck and pulled him back to me, going in for a kiss of my own.

When his arms closed around me, hands moving on my back, I let out a long sigh. My mouth opened when the tip of his tongue traced my lips.

I didn’t have much experience with kissing, but it didn’t take any kind of expert to know that this was downright amazing.

A sizzle and thrill far more powerful than a sugar rush coursed through my heated veins. Like I’d been living inside a block of ice for years, and now, suddenly, thawing in a rush. For those long minutes, my entire world was nothing but these sensations, the feel of his hard chest pressed against me, the taste of his lips, the hands sliding across my back to hold me in place, the smell of him. The entire sensual experience that was Mika Katoa.

He only stopped once. It was to ask if I was okay because I was trembling.

I didn’t answer, just dove in for more. And with a laugh that was soon stifled by my persistent attentions, he went with it. And never stopped again to ask.

We made out for hours. Once in a while, a person popped their head into the room—and then out just as quickly.

But for those hours, the two of us existed in a world all our own… And it had taken only this small taste to know that this was a world I wanted to visit much more often.

I would not be a one-time tourist here. Nope.

I was hooked.

I have no idea when we drifted off to sleep but I was mortified when I woke up and we were entwined together on his bed.

His roommate nudged us awake with a smirk. “This is getting to be a habit.”

It was Friday night, but curfew was still in effect. “Your roomie—what was her name again?—she told me to come find you and then wandered back to your room.”

I stretched and nodded, thanking him, aware that Mika lay close beside me, unconscious. The roomie left, toothbrush in hand, and I tried to squirm out from under the massive limb that pinned me down.

But his arm suddenly tensed and he pulled me closer.

“I have to go,” I whispered.

He moved his mouth to my ear, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “But you’re coming back soon, Bombshell. If I have anything to say about it.”

I turned my face and looked into his eyes, reflecting his wide smile back at him. “I might. But I’m here to study—not to date.”

“Oh, you’ll have all the time you need to study. But we’ll be negotiating that dating part.”

“Hmm.”

He lifted his head to look down at me. “No hmm. As soon as Recognition Day is in the books and we get privileges, you and I are gonna date. It’s a done deal, Bombshell.”

I laughed. “You must be talking in your sleep, Big—”

But his mouth was on mine, stifling the rest. And who was I to argue?

Turned out, he was right. It was a done deal.

CHAPTER SEVEN

WE WENT THROUGH ALL the steps, actually. Once we were upperclassmen, we were inseparable—as much as our packed schedule could allow, anyway. And we shared all our firsts. Every thrilling one.

Including the day, almost exactly to the date, three years after the night we’d shared kisses and cake that we found ourselves in Kaua’i, Hawaii for Christmas break. This was my second trip there, and this time, I’d brought my family, who’d fallen instantly in love with his.

On Christmas Eve, we broke away from the crowded house to get a little alone time. Mika took me on a hike to view the sunset at a nearby secluded waterfall. He couldn’t wait to show it to me, off the beaten path.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to being this warm on Christmas.”

“But… you’re from Texas.

I shrugged as I followed him up the steep, grassy trail. “Christmas can still get chilly in Texas, even if it’s a hell-furnace in the summer.”

We were now first-degree cadets, with only one semester remaining of our undergraduate education. Hardened by military training, the hike barely caused us to lose our breath. We were both in the best shape of our lives. As Mika was leading the way, I had a lot of opportunities to stare at his hard, perfect ass as we climbed higher.

We sped up when we heard the rush of water, but as we approached, I heard something else. The faint musical strains of… I hesitated on the trail and Mika turned back to me, just as the falls came into view.

“What’s wrong?” he asked in response to my frown.

“Wait, is that… is that ukulele music?”

He blinked at me and shrugged. “I don’t hear anything.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, instantly suspicious of that mischievous sparkle in his dark eyes. I recognized it all too well. He was up to something.

I walked closer to the edge of the pond to both get a better look at the falls but also make out that it was, indeed, a ukulele playing Over the Rainbow. And over by the tree… were those candles?

“You mean to tell me you can’t—” I spun to face him and cut myself off. Mika had taken a knee.

I blinked, frozen as he pulled out a small black box from his pocket. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod….

And then he was speaking, as if rehearsed, but excited and all in a rush.

“Lexie… you’re the one. You’ve always been the one. I knew it the minute we met in basic training. I was an idiot at the beginning because that realization scared the shit out of me. I was a stupid teenager who’d just left home for the first time, and girls still terrified me.”

“Mika—”

“I got more, babe. Let me get this out because I’ll probably pass out if I don’t. I knew you were the one. I still know you’re the one. And I want to be the one for you. I’ll be there for you through all the rest of this. I want us to be there for each other through the good and the bad. To pull ourselves up and work together through tough times, like we did way back in that chem lab. I want us to achieve our dreams together. And start a family someday. I want to be with you for all of it—all the rest of this life we have on earth. Please say you’ll marry me.”

I blinked, my heart pounding harder than a great plains stampede. What a beautiful speech that he’d had the privilege of composing and practicing and rehearsing in his mind for days or weeks or whatever.

And here I was barely able to utter an intelligible syllable in response.

I shook my head and he frowned. The emotion was choking me up, tears stinging my eyes. I took a step forward and he stood, a sliver of worry plain on his face. And all I could do was launch myself into his arms.

He started to laugh. “Does that mean yes?”

“Of course it does, you big lug. Yes, yes. Always yes.”

I have no recollection how long he held me tight like that or how long we stood, holding each other, kissing each other without words. Words weren’t needed.

Lexie and Mika will feature in two more upcoming books, High Stakes and High Gains, in the Point of No Return series. Mika Katoa, aka “Hammer,” is also a character in the following of Brenna’s other books: High Risk, High Reward and For The Taking.

To find out more about Brenna’s books, join her newsletter: http://Brenna.news

About the Author

Brenna Aubrey is a USA TODAY Bestselling Author of contemporary romance stories. Her debut novel, At Any Price, is currently free on all platforms. Her books are on over a million e-readers worldwide and have been translated into German, French, Italian and Dutch. They’ve also been adapted into an interactive app game.

Look for the Point of No Return series and her extremely popular Gaming The System series.

She has always sought comfort in good books and the long, involved stories she weaves in her head. Brenna is a city girl with a nature-lover’s heart. She therefore finds herself out in green open spaces any chance she can get. She currently resides on the west coast of the US with her husband and children (both human and furry).

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THE BROKEN CROSS SERIES

BONUS SCENE: ANAIS AND DAMIEN

BRI BLACKWOOD

ANAIS

I TWISTED my engagement ring around my finger for the one hundredth time as I waited for Damien to wrap up the conversation he was having to my left. The conversation I’d been involved in had ended and I didn’t want to interrupt him, especially while he was talking about the topic of the conversation so passionately.

Tonight, we were attending a political fundraiser for someone running for a state congressional seat at Olympus Hotel in New York City.

I could guess how other people saw my fiancé, Damien Cross, as I studied his profile. I couldn’t believe how fortunate I was.

Many would say I was “lucky” for having a billionaire choose me to be his future wife, but that wasn’t the case at all. I was lucky to have some who loved me to the end of the earth and back and would do anything to make sure I was safe and happy. Anything.

The start of our relationship had been rocky but once we solved our differences and dealt with some people who wanted us dead, things just got better and better. Now I had his ring on my finger, not the one he’d given me for our fake engagement, but the one that he knew I would love and cherish forever. We were planning on getting married. Well, at some point we would be.

I had to admit that the holdup was me and I could see the frustration in Damien’s eyes when wedding planning was brought up. He didn’t care how we got married as long as it was soon, but I was the one with the conflicting feelings about how I pictured my ‘dream wedding’. The thought of putting together a wedding felt daunting. The thought of running to City Hall, one of Damien’s suggestions, was growing more and more appealing by the day. But I knew I wanted a bigger affair. Since money wasn’t an issue, it wouldn’t take much to have someone plan the wedding and the only thing I would basically have to do was have a dress fitting and show up at the venue the day of. However, I really wanted to be involved, so wedding planning had been put on the backburner for now.

I sighed because the endless battle between what I should do about wedding planning made me tired. What I really wanted to be was away from this political shindig and in his arms. Didn’t matter where we were, as long as it was just the two of us and we were preferably naked. When I felt Damien’s hand on the small of my back, I knew it wasn’t a coincidence. He must have heard me.

Damien hadn’t turned to look at me, but I knew that I had his attention. When he added more pressure, a shiver went down my spine.

I looked at him, wondering what that was all about, and he finally looked my way. The look in his eyes told me exactly what he was thinking: how quickly could he get me alone.

Damien turned his attention back to the man in front of him and said, “My fiancée and I need to head home but call my office on Monday morning and we can discuss this further.”

The man in front of him beamed. “Thank you, Mr. Cross. I will do just that.”

He held out his hand to shake Damien’s before he turned and shook mine. When he walked away, Damien turned to me.

“Growing impatient, Spitfire?”

“Yes. I’d rather be at home with you.”

That caused a smile to form on his face. “The feeling is mutual. I think we’ve reached our quota of socializing for today. How about we go home?”

“Those are the words I’ve been waiting for you to say all night. I can’t wait to take off these shoes.” I glanced down at the three-inch black strappy heels that I had on. While they looked cute and had been comfortable at first, having to stand in them for a long period of time had forced the heels to wear out their welcome.

“There are some other things I want you to take off as well.”

I couldn’t fight back my smile. It tickled me sometimes how a man who was so revered and buttoned up in public, would be ready to drop just about anything if it meant he could make love to me.

Damien held out his hand and when I slid my hand into his, I couldn’t help but admire how well mine fit into his. How well we fit into each other’s lives. He gave my hand a gentle squeeze and together we walked out of the hotel’s ballroom, through the lobby, and into the crisp night air.

Rob, our driver, was waiting for us, making me wonder if Damien had planned to leave around now this entire time. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d had an escape plan for an event like this. The ride home was uneventful, with us mostly chatting amongst ourselves while we cruised through the New York City streets. We’d decided to stay at the penthouse tonight, so it took us no time to get there. Damien opened the front door of our suite and ushered me inside. I turned around as soon the door clicked shut and found Damien looking at me. The intensity from his stare was enough to set my entire body ablaze.

“I’ve been wanting to remove that dress from you all night.”

I looked down at the sleek black gown I had on before gazing back up into his eyes. “Oh really? We’ve barely spoken to each other since we arrived at Olympus.”

He took a step toward me. “Doesn’t mean I wasn’t thinking about ripping that dress off of you. Inch. By. Inch.”

A shiver ran through my body, covering me in goosebumps. The promise of what was to come was there and while I couldn’t wait, I enjoyed the game we were playing. It was as if he was the predator, and I was the prey and I couldn’t wait for him to stake his claim to my body.

He took another step and then another, until he was standing in front of me. I bit the corner of my lip as I lifted my head so that my eyes could meet his. He tucked a piece of my brown hair, which had fallen out of my updo, behind my ear before his hand made its way to my chin to tilt my head up. He stared at my lips for a moment before his descended onto mine.

The rush I felt from kissing him was unlike anything I’d ever felt. It was the thrill from the connection we’d made, plus the anticipation of what was to come.

Or so I thought.

Our kiss came to an abrupt end when his phone rang. His groan made me chuckle. He was as into our kiss as I had been, and annoyance was bouncing off of him in droves.

As he glanced down at the screen, I had to assume that it was another member of the Cross family calling this late.

“I’m going to take this call, but I’ll wrap it up quickly.”

“Who is it?”

“Dad.”

I nodded, giving him a small smile before I turned away. I swayed my hips more than usual and could feel him burning a hole into my back. He’d get snappier with anyone who was on the other end of the phone because he wanted to do nothing more than to fuck me.

I decided to give him some privacy and walked into the master bedroom. I sat down on the edge of the bed and removed my shoes, enjoying the feeling of my bare feet on the floor versus standing in painful heels for a second longer. I walked over to my dresser and removed the jewelry that I’d put on for tonight’s event. The only piece I left on that had become a staple in my life since he’d given it to me was my engagement ring. I couldn’t help but grin at it before turning and walking into the bathroom.

Once I was in there, I removed the hair pins that were holding my hair up and shook it slightly as my hair fell along my shoulders. I maneuvered my body and managed to unzip my dress. I was holding onto it just before I heard Damien approach. I watched him in the mirror as he leaned against the doorframe, and it was then that I realized he’d removed his suit jacket.

“This is a welcomed sight. Turn around.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes. Dad needed an answer to something urgent, but it was a quick call. Turn around.”

This time, I followed his directions and let my dress fall to the ground. I was left standing in a matching strapless bra and thong.

“That was on purpose,” he said before he stalked toward me.

When he was standing in front of me, I almost said something, but his kiss made any other thought disappear. My fingers grabbed at his shirt, enjoying the way that his muscle felt under my touch. My hands made their way down his body until they reached the front of his slacks. It was easy to feel how much he wanted me.

He adjusted his head. “I told you what I was thinking about all night.” He gave me a small grin before his lips met my neck.

I sighed as the feel of his lips on my skin felt like heaven. He ran his fingers along the tops of my breasts, just above the where the strapless bra met my skin. He stopped kissing my neck and reached behind me to unsnap my bra. He removed my bra and tossed it over his shoulder.

“Now that’s better,” he said, barely above a whisper.

With him having access to both of my breasts now, he palmed one before taking my other breast’s nipple into his mouth. My back arched as I tried to get closer to his mouth and his fingers were keeping my other breast entertained. My head flew back as I gripped the counter, in hopes of keeping myself in place due to his assault on my body. When he switched to my other nipple, I cried out. The pleasure that he was building within me was immeasurable.

His free hand made its way down to my thong. He shifted my underwear out of the way, much like he did my top, baring my pussy to his fingers.

My nipple left his mouth with a loud pop. “I bet you’re soaked right now.”

“That wouldn’t be an incorrect assumption.”

He chuckled and when his fingers touched my clit, I groaned.

“Is this what you want, Spitfire? My fingers playing with your pussy? My cock fucking you so hard that you’ll forget your own name?”

Before I could respond, he slid one finger into me, and I sighed. This was the prelude to what I’d been wanting for most of the night. My head flew back, and my eyes shut as I enjoyed the sensations that he was the root cause of. His motions increased and before I could reach my orgasm he stopped.

My head snapped back to its rightful position and my eyes shot open. “But—”

“There will be time for more orgasms tonight, but I need to be in you now.”

I nodded my head and watched as he pulled down the black pants he’d worn to the fundraiser tonight. With his cock in his hand, he guided himself all the way into me. I bit back a cry of pleasure. When he started pumping in and out of me, I realized he was right. I was at risk of forgetting my own name.

“Damien—” I gripped the countertop tighter as his hand moved to hold on to my waist. His thrusting quickened as one hand moved to massage my breast before he slapped it lightly. Then he did it again.

I groaned as the pleasure coursing through my body increased. One of my hands gripped his shoulder as he pounded into me. My moans started low, but soon my cries got louder as he brought me closer to the edge.

The hold I had on the bathroom countertop slipped as I grew closer to reaching my orgasm. That was a sign to Damien because he picked up the pace and tightened his grip on my waist.

When I careened over the edge, he groaned. He continued pounding into me until he followed me off the cliff and into a land of orgasmic bliss. After we took a few moments to catch our breaths, he slowly removed himself from me and said, “Now that we are all dirty, it looks like we need a shower.”

“And is that an excuse for you to take me again?”

Damien couldn’t hide his smirk. “Maybe.”

This story features Anais and Damien from the Broken Cross Series. Their story begins in Savage Empire.

About the Author

Bri loves a good romance, especially ones that involve a hot anti-hero. That is why she likes to turn the dial up a notch with her own writing. Her Broken Cross series is her debut dark romance series.

She spends most of her time hanging out with her family, plotting her next novel, or reading books by other romance authors.

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WE CAN TURN A BLIND EYE

CARA DEE

CHAPTER ONE

BLAKE O’CONNOR

“DAD, I SWEAR,” I grated out. “You’re supposed to rest. Go home!”

He’d asked my brothers and me to take care of the pub while he recovered from his accident, so why was he fucking here?

“I’m goin’!” He grunted and limped out toward the kitchen on his crutches.

A classroom full of first graders was easier to handle.

I returned my attention to the toddler on my hip and made funny faces with her till she giggled up a storm.

For a popular Irish pub in the middle of downtown Philly, our lunch rush was slow, so I had no problems watching this little darling. In the meantime, her daddy was having lunch with a merry band of fellow undesirables.

The “alleged” mobsters of the Sons of Munster came here all the time.

“I thought you were going home, Pop,” I heard Mikey bitch in the kitchen.

“I fuckin’ have to now, don’t I?” Dad was just as bitchy. “The pumpkin insists.”

“The doctor insists, you big oaf!” I hollered.

“Mick go!” the baby girl babbled.

“Yeah, Mick’s going home,” I chuckled.

She wasn’t even two years old. If she knew my dad by name already, she spent way too much time here.

I threw a glance over at Finn’s table.

At this point, I was certain my family had been directly involved in the Sons of Munster back in the day. My money was on my dad’s father and uncles. Dad had opted for another route, thankfully. He’d settled for running the joint where all the Sons wanted to have lunch and host sit-downs.

It could be worse. He could be sitting over there with Finn O’Shea himself.

To be honest, it was still strange to me that Finn was the head of the Sons. He was just a few years older than me. He wasn’t some pompous, untouchable old man stuck in a penthouse. He’d taken the reins at the end of an in-house war that’d rocked the city, but that didn’t get him out of diaper duty and, evidently, bringing his daughter with him to work. Which I wasn’t sure his wife would approve of…

A couple minutes later, Kellan walked through the door with two associates.

“Hey, hon.”

“Hey, yourself.” I tilted my head. “Are you and your goons staying for lunch?”

He laughed and walked toward me. With a slight nod, he silently told said goons to join Finn. “Yeah, I come for the stew. Those two come for your verbal beatings.”

I grinned.

He was charming, Kellan Ford. Gay and happily married and probably a murderer. I refused to be fooled by their charisma. Just because he was an outgoing, happy dude, didn’t mean he hadn’t committed heinous crimes.

Sometimes, though, we were willing to turn a blind eye.

I had my reasons. And it wasn’t because I was friends with his younger sister and I’d grown up around these people.

“Mikey and Tommy around?” Kellan asked.

“Depends. Are you still trying to recruit them?”

He placed a hand on his chest. “You wound me. Would I do such a thing?”

I rolled my eyes and went to pour three beers.

The exciting life of a temporary bartender on summer break from her students continued.

I CLEARED TABLES. I served. I poured beer and fetched soda. I sat in a corner of the bar and doodled in my notebook.

Still, I wouldn’t change my shift to the night shift for a million bucks. That was when this place came to life. It was my two elder brothers’ headache while Dad recovered from the car accident. Mattie and Tommy had drawn the short straws while Mikey and I had marked said straws and known which ones to pick.

I took a sip of my water and wrote “30” over and over on a new page.

Three weeks left of my twenties.

Earlier this summer when I’d wished my students a wonderful break, I’d walked out of the school and heard a loud ticking in my skull. Almost like a flip of a switch, I had changed. It was as if my body demanded to be mounted like some animal, to the sound of my biological clock ticking, while my brain still wanted quiet evenings with wine and zero interruptions in my sleep.

30. 30. 30.

A couple lunch guests left, and another man came in. I did a double take when I saw who it was. Oh, I’d been hoping. He’d come in twice last week, and then nada.

Detective Reid Hanna. He was my brand of eye candy. Rugged, scruffy, gorgeous, a fair bit older than me.

Growing up on the fringes of Philadelphia’s organized crime world, I’d picked up a thing or two when it came to profiling. And I’d bet he looked good naked. In my bed.

He ran a hand through his short, disheveled hair, appearing distracted, and walked up to the bar. “Hey. You’re still serving lunch, right?”

“We sure are. What can I get you?” I grabbed him a menu from underneath the bar. He’d sat on the other side of the bar last week, but now he slumped down on the nearest stool.

“Water’s fine to start with.” He eyed the two-page menu and scratched an eyebrow with his car key. “And a medium-rare steak. Can you switch out the potatoes for something else? What’ve you got?”

“Fries, mashed, tots, onion rings, salad. I don’t recommend the tots.”

That earned me half a smirk. “Onion rings will be great.”

Comin’ right up.

I gave the order to the guys in the kitchen, and then I got him his water with ice along with a bread basket. No lie, the bread was amazing.

Exactly like last week, the detective wanted to pay up front, and I set the card reader on the bartop and got another glance at the name on his card.

I only needed confirmation on his profession. I’d gotten a glimpse of his badge so far, but I didn’t think he was an officer with a regular beat. For one, he didn’t wear a uniform. He sported well-worn jeans, Henleys, and a leather jacket.

He took a swig of his water and got lost in his phone, which suited me fine. I loved to people watch, and I had a fine specimen to profile right here. Discreetly, of course.

I was guessing he had a past in the military too. They always sat, stood, and moved a certain way.

He had to be a detective. Unless he came here before his shift, but then he wouldn’t be carrying his service weapon, would he? He kept it fairly hidden, only visible when he unzipped his jacket. A jacket he possibly only wore for that reason. I mean, it was July.

Okay, I’d stared enough. I had tables to clear, and I wasn’t destined to find out how he had gotten that small scar on his chin. Or if anything besides age had given him those laugh lines and the silver in his scruff.

Detectives were good at getting divorced, weren’t they? Maybe he had three ex-wives and four kids somewhere.

After wiping down the tables and bringing dishes to the kitchen, I picked up a bag of lemons and figured I might as well get started on the prep for the evening shift. All the containers needed to be filled with cocktail garnishes.

“Mikey, can you serve the guest at the bar when his steak is done?” I asked. “My fingers are about to be citrusy as hell.”

“No problem, shortcake.”

“Thanks, ogre.”

Growing up with three older brothers who were behemoths had been fun.

Detective Hanna appeared to be just as tall, as in, two skyscrapers and four inches, but he wasn’t a monster who looked like he could lift a car.

I cleared a spot a few feet away from him and found a cutting board and a knife.

As if a thought had struck, he glanced up and squinted to himself. Then he cocked his head at me and asked, “It’s Wednesday, right?”

Riveting question.

“All day long.” I quirked a smile and snatched up three lemons from the net. “There’s no game tonight.” I threw that out there in case he had sports on his mind.

“No, it’s not—it wasn’t that.” He raked his teeth across his bottom lip and eyed his phone again. “Just making sure I don’t forget my niece’s birthday.” He cleared his throat. “Again.”

I chuckled. “I’m sure your brother or sister appreciates that.”

He offered another faint smirk, then nodded with a dip of his chin, and that was that.

I wasn’t going to bother the man. He was here to eat lunch. I had work to do.

CHAPTER TWO

SIMILAR STORY THE NEXT DAY. Hanna came in for lunch and informed me he’d wished his niece a happy birthday with a new Lego set, and he seemed pleased with her reaction to it. I did the polite thing, smiled, and offered a comment, after which he returned his attention to his food.

I gawked very subtly. He struck me as someone who was equal parts polished and rough around the edges. Someone who could both be awkward and suave.

He paid in advance and tipped twenty percent in cash when he was done.

Then he rose from his seat and appeared to hesitate.

I kept him in my periphery, not wanting to be that girl.

“I, uh…I like what you did with your hair, by the way,” he said. “Have a good one.” Without another word, he walked out.

My mouth stretched into a smile, and a rush of pleasure coursed through me.

Go me for having been so bored last night that I’d bought highlights in a box.

I released a breath and realized I really needed to get back in the dating game if a single compliment meant so much.

Finished with today’s tasks, I emptied the trash under the bar and aimed for the kitchen. Mikey had already gone home, and Sullivan, Dad’s only daytime employee, was in the process of closing down the kitchen.

“I can take that too.” I saw he was about to clear the trash by the griddle, and since I was already heading out there…

“Cheers, hon. Just be careful with this side—there’s broken glass in there.”

Good to know. I accepted the heavy trash bag and held it away from me on my way out to the alley.

Perhaps I needed to visit a gym more than I needed to date. Christ. My arms protested as I pushed open the back door with a grunt, and then I swung out the trash bags and nearly flew out with them like a bad cartoon. But I managed to steady myself against the doorframe. At the same time, I caught movement next to the dumpster, and I felt my eyes widen in shock.

“Get back inside!” Detective Hanna snapped.

I went rigid instead. I absolutely fucking froze, with two trash bags preventing me from being able to shut the door. I had not imagined things. I’d seen money and something else changing hands. And the guy standing next to Hanna narrowed his eyes and flinched toward me.

The detective halted him with a hand to his chest and said, “Leave her to me. Get outta here.”

“I ain’t takin’ any fuckin’ chances,” the goon growled. “That’s Mick’s daughter. I’m dead if they find out.”

Oh my God.

That did it. I snapped out of my useless, immobile state and kicked the trash bags out of the way before I slammed the door shut and locked it. All three locks. Holy fuck. My heart started pounding.

I’m dead if they find out.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that “they” were the Sons of Munster.

With my heart lodged in my throat, I pulled off the most impressive acting stint since high school when Dad had found cigarettes in my bag and I’d managed to convince him they were a friend’s.

Sullivan was wiping down the bar, so maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t heard anything. If he’d been in the kitchen, he definitely would’ve.

“See you tomorrow, hon,” I said casually, grabbing my purse. “I locked up in the back, so you can take the front exit when you leave.”

“Got it. See you tomorrow.”

Deep breaths. Quick steps and deep breaths.

I was almost out the door. Adrenaline pumped freely, my breathing was difficult to regulate, and my skin prickled uncomfortably.

Freedom.

I pushed the door open and disappeared into the crowd on the sidewalk, and that was when my mind started reeling. Holy fuck, holy fuck. Okay, bus home. Bus home. I swallowed dryly and shook my head, trying to clear it. Screw that. I was sitting my ass in a cab. I didn’t even want to bother with an Uber. I had to get home and lock my door behind me.

The sun shone brilliantly as I crossed a busy street, aiming straight for the Marriott where I could find a cab.

Who the hell did I call about this? Most people would automatically call the police, but my world was a blurry, undefined area in between law-abiding and law-breaking. I wasn’t a damn mobster, but my dad sure hung out with several. Two of my brothers may or may not be connected. A cop was involved, whether or not he was a detective working a case.

He could be corrupt for all I knew!

I WAS ALMOST home when I realized my leg hurt something fierce. I brushed my hand over it, and all I saw was blood. The broken glass in the trash bag had obviously punched back, and the adrenaline surge had prevented me from feeling anything.

I dug through my purse for my tissues and did my best to wipe it off, but it seemed like I was going to play nurse the second I got home.

“Shit,” I whispered.

Peering out the car window, I exhaled when I saw the church my parents went to every Sunday. Alongside dozens upon dozens of Sons of Munster associates and high-ranking members. Including the boss man himself and his wife and children.

What a clusterfuck.

I didn’t want to be involved, and yet…

I’d attended countless christenings with these people.

They all knew me as Blake, Mick’s daughter. The schoolteacher who never showed up for Mass but was always there when someone popped out a new kid.

I’d babysat Finn’s youngest at the bar the other day. I’d hugged his wife Emilia and exchanged recipes with her more than once. Kellan’s little sister and I had gone to school together and had plans to go get our nails done next week. I’d been a bridesmaid at her wedding, where I’d had a one-night stand with Colm, who I was fairly sure was Finn’s head of security.

If I ever got married, Finn and his family would be the first to receive invitations, and they would show up as a sign of respect for my dad.

No, I couldn’t fucking call the police.

I ENDED up not calling anyone at all.

With the door locked behind me, I tossed my purse on the hallway table and let out a huge breath.

I was a mess. Blood all over my leg, blood on my hand. I felt sweaty and gross and nervous.

To ignore everything that’d happened today became my goal. I was gonna shove it all out of my mind. It was just me here in my tiny one-bedroom, turn-of-the-century apartment where the faucet in the bathroom leaked, the radiator in the kitchen didn’t work, the AC whirred too loudly at night, and pretty much every floorboard creaked. I had the most beautiful crown molding but no access to laundry facilities. A stunning wrought-iron-fenced French balcony but very little water pressure in the shower. A gorgeous little place, in short, that was about to fall apart.

First thing I did was place a bottle of wine in the freezer for rapid cooling.

Next, I took a shower and washed away the day.

“Seriously?” Stepping out of the shower, I noticed the wound on my leg was still bleeding. I better not need stitches. The laceration was approximately four inches long, and maybe it was deeper than I’d thought.

I grabbed my first aid kit from under the sink, and—

Someone knocked on the door.

CHAPTER THREE

I TIGHTENED the towel around my chest and left the bathroom. The front door was a mere six or seven steps away, and I looked through the peephole.

Fuck my life.

The nervousness came rushing back, tightening my stomach.

Detective Hanna.

With zero intention of opening the door, I spoke up. “What do you want?”

He snapped his gaze to the peephole. “Can you let me in?”

“How did you find me?”

“Is that relevant?”

Uh, yeah!

Then I groaned internally and wanted to kick myself for what I was about to say, but I had to play a certain card. “Listen, I know this is gonna sound dumb,” I said, “but I have about twenty numbers I can call, and you’d be toast.”

Maybe five numbers. Whatever.

To my surprise and annoyance, Hanna smiled a little and scratched his jaw.

“I actually don’t doubt that,” he replied. “Chances are I have the same numbers in my phone, though. I’m not the enemy here, Ms. O’Connor.”

He knew my name, and he had the digits for mobsters. Great! I guessed we could tick the box for dirty cop.

“Are you in their pocket?” I had to ask.

He fucking chuckled. “How about you let me in so we can talk? I’ll put Ford on speaker if you want.”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. The mention of Kellan obviously bolstered his case.

“Yeah, that’s what I want,” I told him. “I’m not opening the door until I hear his voice.”

“Fair enough.” He brought out his phone and showed it to me, then scrolled for a bit before he flashed his screen again to reveal an outgoing call to “Ford Support.”

I lifted a brow. The name he’d given Kellan was telling. If someone found the phone, Hanna didn’t want them to see Kellan’s name.

“What car do you drive, detective?” I asked.

He tilted his head. “What makes you think I’m a det—” He cut himself off as Kellan took the call.

“Oi! Too early for a status update, man.”

“It’s not for me,” Hanna responded. “I’m at Ms. O’Connor’s place, and she understandably has some trust issues.”

“Put her on,” Kellan replied quickly. It sounded like he was in a car, surrounded by people honking.

I’d heard enough. I unlocked the door and opened it about a foot or two, just enough for me to poke my head out. After all, I was only wearing a towel.

“What the fuck is going on, Kellan?” I asked, avoiding making eye contact with the detective.

“It’s nothing for you to worry about, hon,” he replied. “Listen to Reid, and then you can forget today ever happened. Deal?”

I mean, I would love that…

“All right,” I replied warily.

“Take a left up here. Blake, I’ll check in with you later,” he promised, before ending the call.

The silence in the hall that followed was uncomfortable, and I didn’t know what to say. If Kellan told me I had nothing to worry about, I trusted him. So why should I let the dirty cop in? I didn’t need any details. In fact, the less I knew, the better.

He cleared his throat and pocketed his phone. “Mind if I come in now?”

Very much so, yes.

I said nothing, but I opened the door wider to let him in.

“I’m, uh, just gonna get dressed.” With that said, I went back into the bathroom.

Perhaps the day had simply become too weird for me to react accordingly to every little new development. Either way, I felt calm when I knew I shouldn’t. This was the time to freak out, wasn’t it? Or at least cry and call Daddy to come save me?

I had a good idea of what was going to happen, and I was sure the man who’d tried to come at me earlier knew too. He knew he was currently being chased down.

“Hey, what happened to your leg?” Hanna asked through the bathroom door.

Crap. “I kicked the wrong trash bag. It’s fine.” I hurried to dry off and pull my hair into a haphazard bun, and then I put on a pair of pajama shorts and a tank top before I figured it was time to deal with the wound.

I’d brought the wrong clothes, dammit. Too-short shorts and a tank with no bra underneath were definitely reserved for when I was alone. As I patted a damp paper towel over my wound, I glanced around me. Not even an old hoodie hung in here. My bathrobe was here, though that one was practically see-through. No dice. I’d put on something else later.

I hissed and peered down at my leg again. Fuck, that actually hurt. This wasn’t gonna go away with a couple Band-Aids. I needed better lighting too. I kept my makeup mirror in the kitchen for a reason.

Time to face Reid Hanna.

I brought my first aid kit and opened the door, finding him right there in the hallway. No snooping around first, then?

He eyed me briefly, very briefly, before averting his gaze.

“Yeah, I wasn’t expecting company.” It wasn’t like me to feel self-conscious, and I’d had no complaints about my curves in the past, but the way Hanna acted made me feel like I’d done something inappropriate. Like I was inappropriate.

To hell with him. It was my home, my extra pounds, and my bloodied leg I was about to patch up.

I limped into the kitchen and sat down in the chair closest to the window where the afternoon sun poured in. Given the size of the space, only two people could sit at my table, and I told him, “I can’t imagine you staying long, but have a seat if you want. There’s water, beer, and soda in the fridge. Or coffee if you can wait till I’m done here.”

He looked on with his brows pinched as I hauled my leg up onto the table, in what must be the sexiest way ever. “I’m fine,” he answered distractedly. “I’m not sure you are, though. Can I have a look? I was a combat medic once upon a time.”

I’d freaking guessed he had a past in the military. Nailed it.

“It’s okay. I work with kids who insist on running with scissors.” I was a semi-pro.

The detective didn’t appear to trust me. He sat down and unzipped his jacket, while never taking his eyes off my leg, and he pressed his lips together in a thin line when I ignored disinfecting the wound first and went straight for ripping open a pack of gauze.

I’d literally stepped out of the shower seconds before he’d knocked on the door. The wound was clean.

“Are you going to talk or stare?” I asked.

He didn’t look happy. “I suppose I can multitask—but you really oughta check if the wound is deep. You might need sutures. And you’re not using—oh, for chrissakes.” He stood up abruptly and rounded the table. “Let me do this.” He immediately started rummaging through my kit.

I scowled but couldn’t muster any energy to fight him. Partly because my leg was hurting more for every second, partly because I knew the gauze shouldn’t be the first step. I needed compresses, more padding, before I wrapped it up.

“At least you have everything in here,” he muttered.

Once he’d gathered what he wanted, he went down on one knee and gently placed my foot on his leg.

I liked that part.

“The man you saw in the alley won’t bother you again,” he said.

“Yet, here you are.”

He didn’t look up from my leg, but the grin he flashed was bright and genuine. And gone in two seconds. With a compress in one hand and a bottle of wound disinfectant in the other, he carefully cleaned the laceration, his touch so gentle that it took away some of my annoyance.

“So, are you one of those corrupt detectives?”

“In the eyes of the law, sure, yeah.” He opened a packet with a sterile cotton swab and used it to inspect the depth of the wound. “You cut yourself on glass, you said?”

“I was a little too freaked out to check, but I knew there was broken glass in the bag.”

He hummed in acknowledgment. “You know who Finnegan O’Shea is, right?”

“Of course.” It was mesmerizing to watch him work, to be honest. He sure as heck knew what he was doing.

He fastened four butterfly bandages, so I assumed he’d decided I didn’t need stitches.

“His old man once saved my sister from an abusive marriage,” Hanna admitted. “I was overseas at the time.”

Oh. Damn. Fuck. That hit close to home. Almost too close.

He moved on to apply both an antibiotic cream and antiseptic spray. “I’d had my run-ins with that waste of space she called husband before, and he wasn’t a stranger to being arrested either. But he always got out with a slap on the wrist. Until the time I was in Afghanistan and Shannon O’Shea stumbled across him as he was beating the shit out of my sister in a parking lot in the middle of the night.”

I flinched and looked away, out the window, not wanting any of my own memories to rush back.

I’d healed. I’d grown stronger. I’d moved on.

“There was nothing for me to deal with when I rotated back home,” Hanna went on. “The sick bastard had finally gotten more than a slap on the wrist.”

He didn’t have to spell it out. The Sons had dealt with the asshole.

“So I made a deal with them.” He grabbed another pack of compresses from the table. “I was willing to turn a blind eye to certain things if they kept doing what they did to the men who use their wives as punching bags.”

Turn a blind eye.

“Because if the law won’t protect my sister, who will?” His question was rhetorical. “Say what you want about the Sons—I wouldn’t consider befriending them over a beer and casual conversation about their latest heist or murder—but they protect and defend their women and children by any means necessary.”

They sure did.

I swallowed hard and peered down as he wrapped the gauze around my leg.

“Why are you telling me all this?” I asked quietly.

He sent me a quick, polite smile before he grabbed a roll of surgical tape. “Because you grew up with the O’Sheas, Murphys, and Fords, Ms. O’Connor. And because you have a similar story.”

I stiffened and snapped my stare to meet his. How the fuck—

“I saw it in an old case file.” He showed his palms in caution. “I didn’t read the details—you have my word. I just caught the gist, how you were brought to the hospital by Patrick O’Shea after an assault when you were sixteen. Perpetrator unknown, no charges, no arrests.”

He’d done his homework. Deliberately, to boot. He’d looked me up. He’d searched for stuff about me.

Finn’s big brother, Patrick, had saved me that night. Had he not stepped outside for a smoke at that party, my screams would’ve gone unheard, and I wouldn’t have gotten away with just a couple fractured ribs and bruises.

I couldn’t defend all the things Patrick had done. He’d been to prison, he’d robbed art galleries, he’d extorted people, he’d killed, he’d stolen. But he’d also saved my life, and he’d put that motherfucker who’d assaulted me underground.

“I apologize for bringing it up,” Hanna said. “It was partly selfish. I don’t particularly enjoy being called a dirty cop.” He cleared his throat, finished with my leg, and rose from the floor. “My conscience is clear. I’m not doin’ this for a quick buck, although the money doesn’t hurt. I’m doin’ it because the law isn’t always what I hitch my moral compass to. The law isn’t always right.”

I didn’t know what to say. I busied myself by stowing away the gauze, tape, and bandages, and in the end… I mean, I got it. I did. Life was packed with gray areas, and some were even black-and-white at a certain angle but gray from another.

“I agree with you,” was all I could say. “Thank you for fixing my leg.”

“No problem. Leave it for a couple days so the wound can close. You’ll probably have a scar.” He scratched his eyebrow and remained standing while I threw the trash under the sink. “They didn’t teach us finesse in the Army.”

I didn’t need finesse.

Unsure of what to say, I leaned back against the counter and folded my arms loosely over my chest. Now that we didn’t have the distraction of my cut-up leg, his presence in my tiny kitchen felt immense. He was incredibly tall and more built than I’d thought at the pub. He looked like he ran ten miles every morning and went to the police station’s gym in his spare time, all while that didn’t fit my amateur profiling of him.

“So today…” I trailed off. Because, did he have more details to share before he was off?

He nodded with a dip of his chin. “Today I was checking something for O’Shea. They’ve been suspecting that guy’s a rat, so they sent in the dirty cop.”

I smirked slightly at his rueful smile.

“How did you know I’m a detective, by the way?” he wondered.

My smirk morphed into a triumphant grin. “I didn’t. It was a guess—and I was right. I mean, service weapon but no uniform, clichéd leather jacket and well-worn jeans, a badge you keep poorly hidden…”

He sniffed and pushed up the sleeves of his navy-blue Henley, revealing a pair of sexy forearms. “There’s nothing clichéd about my jacket.”

I chuckled. “If you say so, Detective Hanna.”

He opened his mouth to respond, only to snap it shut and lift an eyebrow. He had good eyebrow game. “You know my last name.”

Oh, come on.

“I see it every time you use your credit card to pay for lunch.”

“I’m well aware. It’s more interesting that you remember it—and take the time to profile me.” He looked a little smug for a hot second, though he was quick to change the subject. “Unfortunately, you’ll be stuck with me for a while longer. I don’t want to leave until I hear back from Ford and his crew. They’re…taking care of a problem.”

I knew what that meant too, and I appreciated the topic change. He’d wasted a good opportunity to embarrass me for practically admitting to having a staring problem.

As for his staying a while longer…? I could think of worse things.

“I’m familiar with the Sons’ guard dog ways when a woman might be in danger,” I replied. “I will happily accept, and don’t feel the need to share any details. Ignorance is bliss. Besides, you’ve already spilled more beans than they would. What Kellan said—I don’t have anything to worry about? That’s their usual line, and they leave it at that.”

That guy in the alley today—I didn’t know if he deserved to die. All I knew was, I didn’t want to pay with my life for having opened a door to the wrong place at the wrong time.

“I’d make a shitty mobster,” Hanna said bluntly. “After a handful of failed relationships where I was constantly accused of not talking enough, I started doing the opposite with everything I’m allowed to discuss.”

Oh wow, quite a bit to unpack there. Another point for me, though. I’d guessed he might have some ex-wives in his closet. Ex-wives, ex-girlfriends, whatever.

“But you can still keep a secret?” I teased.

He smiled. “Absolutely, miss.”

This day was certainly turning around.

“Coffee?” I offered.

“Won’t say no to that.”

Good. It gave me something to do.

If he was staying a few hours, I should find something we could have for dinner too.

While the coffeemaker started making its gurgling noises, I opened the fridge and freezer to see what I had. And the detective apologized again for bringing up what’d happened to me all those years ago.

“It’s fine,” I answered honestly. “Thanks to Patrick’s intervention, I managed to move forward a lot faster than…” Yeah. If he hadn’t. “But I get it, you know. The part with turning a blind eye. I do the same. Not just for what Patrick did for me, but for how freakishly charitable those thugs are.”

Historically, it was common for crime syndicates to donate a lot of money to charity. It looked good and opened up a whole network of connections to higher places. But the Sons of Munster had zero to gain from donating money to our local women’s shelter, where I volunteered from time to time. Many of the donations even came in anonymously. But we knew.

“We pick our battles,” Hanna murmured.

Truth.

“Speaking of battles, Detective,” I said. “Lamb chops or chicken for dinner?”

“Oh. First of all, call me Reid.”

I poked my head out from behind the fridge door. “If you call me Blake and not miss like some little girl.”

He was definitely trying to hide some amusement there. “Blake, then. You don’t have to make me dinner. I was prepared to be your guard dog, as you so eloquently put it, out in the hall.”

I made a noise, ’cause that was fucking absurd. “Reid, if you’re here to help keep me safe, I’m cooking you dinner. So choose. Lamb chops or chicken. I have salmon too, but that’s gotta be defrosted.”

He chose lamb chops with a humble smile on his gorgeous face, as if he wasn’t used to…whatever this was. A simple, home-cooked meal. Surely he had that all the time.

CHAPTER FOUR

I HAD to make a move on this man. He was not going to do it, because over three cups of coffee, I’d learned several things about Reid Hanna. For one, none of his relationships had made it to the altar, he had no kids—“sadly”—and he’d declared himself a monk for life because dating apps were “worse than boot camp” and one-nighters held no appeal. For two, he was the perfect combination of a grumpy old fella and an incredibly kind man with a big heart. He adored his sister and spent twenty minutes sharing childhood stories about her—and their upbringing outside the city. For three, he referred to me as “you youngsters” on the topic of how one spent a summer evening hitting up clubs and such.

I liked going to bars, not clubs.

“You’re gonna have to exclude me from the general populous there,” I said. “Not that I believe a majority of thirty-year-olds still go clubbing, but those days are over for me.”

He lifted his coffee mug. “You’re thirty?”

“In a few weeks.” Now I had to ask. “You?”

He let out a laugh and shook his head, then finished his coffee. “Not thirty.”

“Come on. You don’t look a day over forty-five, so it can’t be that bad.”

Maybe I’d just made it bad, because he frowned. “I’m forty-three.”

Welp.

“There you go—spring chicken! I think it’s time to start dinner.” It was time to take the wine out of the freezer too, and hopefully he’d want to share it with me. After grabbing our mugs, I made a move to stand up and instantly felt my leg go the hell you are before my knee caved. “Goddammit.” Reid was out of his seat in a flash, but I managed to steady myself on the table right away. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” I also managed to knock over one of the mugs. “I hit a weird angle, that’s all.”

“That sure as fuck isn’t all. You need to rest your leg,” he argued.

“I’m fine.” I was almost completely honest. My leg had barely hurt while we’d been sitting here talking. I brought the mugs to the sink and left them there.

“Ms. O’Connor, I may not have what it takes to be a mobster, but I have an excellent bullshit detector,” he told me firmly. “You’re in pain and need to rest. Moreover, you shouldn’t have been sitting out here. Don’t you have a couch where you can elevate your leg?”

I couldn’t help but scowl at him. “What happened to Blake?”

“She injured her leg.” He didn’t miss a beat. And that joke robbed me of the readiness to show him how stubborn I could be. “I had to put some gravity into what I said, so I figured calling you Ms. O’Connor would help.”

He was downright cute sometimes.

I fought a smile. “It didn’t.”

He looked to be fighting a smile too. “The fact remains. You shouldn’t be on your feet. We’re ordering pizza instead.”

Well, fuck. Pizza did sound…less demanding, but I was on a mission. How could I impress and flirt by ordering a freaking pizza?

“I wanted to cook for you,” I admitted.

To my sexual frustration, Reid only looked puzzled. He really didn’t get it.

“Why?”

Yeah, good question. What was I doing? He’d been nothing but a gentleman, but one who simply wasn’t interested. Lamb chops weren’t going to change that.

As hard as it was, it was time to shove Reid into the friend zone, where he clearly already had me. Actually, that was a stretch. We weren’t friends. He was here to make sure nobody tried anything in their escape from the Sons of Munster.

I deflated.

“You know what? Pizza sounds great.” I half limped over to the fridge, snatching the pizza menu from there, and fetched the wine bottle from the freezer. “Let’s go sit down in the living room.” On my way, I grabbed two wineglasses and my phone too. “What kind of pizza do you prefer?”

“I’m not picky. Mind if I use the bathroom first?”

“No, go ahead.” In the meantime, I trailed down the hallway and into the living room.

Setting the wine on my coffee table, I side-eyed the chair on the short end and figured Reid was going to pick that one. And definitely not because it was comfortable. Small living room, small couch. He’d keep a professional distance. More often than not, the chair was a dumping site for my jacket and purse. The occasional shopping bag too.

I opened the balcony doors to let some life in, and a breeze caused the billowy drapes to dance before they settled. One story below, people were meeting up for happy hour as the last of the rush-hour traffic faded. Outdoor dining areas glittered with bistro lights, and everyone played music. Completely different kinds. Irish folk, mainstream pop…the barbecue joint directly downstairs went with slow, Southern rock.

I loved the city noise. It was like having a roommate.

At the sound of a muffled voice, I turned around and tilted my head. Was Reid on the phone in the bathroom? I was sure I heard something. Perhaps it was Kellan.

After pouring a glass of wine, I stepped out onto the balcony and rested my forearms on the railing. It was a shame I couldn’t sit out here. Not even a lawn chair would fit. I had a decorative little stool with a small lemon tree in a pot on it; that was all.

I took a deep breath and let the early summer evening fill me with contentment. To think, just hours ago, I’d walked into a situation in a back alley that I wasn’t supposed to see.

I grinned when I heard Father O’Malley’s laughter. I spotted him across the street in the Irish pub’s outdoor seating area, having supper with two others from our church. Even though I never attended Mass with my family, I liked that old man. Maybe because he focused a lot less on sins and much more on acceptance, inclusion, and shelter.

“There you are. I almost didn’t see you behind the drapes.”

I glanced over my shoulder. “There’s wine on the table if you’re interested.”

“Perhaps when the pizza gets here.” He mirrored my stance and rested his arms on the railing. “Did you order?”

“I was waiting for you,” I answered. “Does pepperoni work?”

“Absolutely.” He tipped his head my way and raked his teeth along his bottom lip. “I should tell you something.”

Here we go. Update from Kellan. Reid was leaving.

“I didn’t stumble across your file on my way over here or anything,” he said, looking out over the street. “I covered all the stalking last week.”

I knitted my brows, utterly confused.

“I guess this is where I’m not the most upstanding citizen,” he admitted. “But when I came into the pub last week for lunch, expecting to see Mick behind the bar and I saw you instead, I got curious. I wanted to know more about you.”

Really.

“So I took advantage of the access I have, and I’m not sure how I feel about it.”

It was insane how quickly those words ignited a flicker of hope in me.

Had my upbringing fucked me up if I didn’t see any red flags?

I turned to him a little and felt my heart beat faster. “How are you supposed to feel?”

He chuckled and scrubbed a hand over his mouth and jaw. “Like a douchebag for invading your privacy, I’m pretty sure.” He mirrored my position again and faced me. Only, he stood up straighter, so I had to lift my gaze. “Regardless, I should’ve had the balls to—” He cut himself short and cleared his throat.

Hoo-boy, that flicker morphed into a flame.

Go on.

“What I wanted to do…” he amended, “was…pay for my lunch and say, ‘By the way, my name is Reid. I happen to think you’re out-of-this-fucking-world beautiful, and I would like to take you to dinner on Friday and ask what the hell you’re doodling in that notebook of yours.’”

Fuck me sideways.

A breathless little laugh slipped out as heat bled across my cheeks, and I had to fight the urge to bury my face in my hands.

“I doodled to distract myself from being accused of having a staring problem,” I confessed with an embarrassed grin. “I can turn a blind eye to your…curiosity…if you don’t make fun of me for gawking at you.”

That earned me a full-fledged smile, pronouncing his faint laugh lines and brightening his hazel-green eyes. Then he reached out and touched my cheek, and the humor faded and gave way to something much heavier. I swallowed against the sudden dryness in my throat, and he dipped down slowly and brushed his lips to mine.

“The last thing I wanna do is make fun of you,” he murmured.

It didn’t take more than that to set me on fire, evidently. I all but melted into him and deepened the kiss, and he pulled me closer with a hand on my lower back.

He took my wineglass from me just as he swept his tongue into my mouth with a sensual push, and I shivered. I didn’t even know what he did with the glass, and I didn’t care. He was kissing me—it was all that mattered right now.

I stood up on my toes and locked my arms around his neck, getting lost in the kiss so quickly. Every move he made was unhurried and measured, as if he was carefully testing the waters and slowly disarming me. Kiss by kiss, he took charge.

“I’m serious about the date. Have dinner with me tomorrow.”

“I’d love to.” My voice came out all breathless. I couldn’t help it. “Kiss me again.”

He did, and he left trepidation and carefulness behind. He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me hungrily, and then he was walking me backward into the apartment.

We ended up on my couch, with me on his lap, and he slipped his hands down my shorts to knead my butt cheeks roughly.

I moaned into the kiss.

“Goddammit,” he exhaled. “My self-control is about to take a hike.”

Good.

“Self-control is overrated.” I kissed my way down to his neck and breathed him in. God, he turned me on. “Can’t we be reckless instead?”

I swiveled my hips over his cock, feeling him, all of him, so fucking hard that it made me whimper.

He growled under his breath. “Reckless is all I’ve got left. Let me see you.”

I flicked the tip of my tongue against his, then leaned back and pulled my tank top over my head.

He clenched his jaw, his gaze so intense and lust-filled, and he didn’t hesitate. Closing the distance again, he left a trail of openmouthed kisses down my chest until he reached my breasts.

“Tell me what you want,” I breathed.

He chuckled darkly and palmed my tits, pushing them together. “I want too much.” He captured a nipple between his teeth and sucked on it. “I wanna know everything about you. I wanna get drunk with you. I wanna know how many men I gotta keep away from you, how you like your eggs in the morning, how wet I can make you, and how hard I can fuck you.”

Oh my God.

I grabbed his face and kissed him hard, and he groaned as I pressed myself against his cock. “Lose your clothes, Detective. I’ll be right back.” I kissed him once more before I wrenched away and slid off his lap.

I was only going to my modest liquor cabinet across the room, next to the TV, so he didn’t have to wonder for long. In the meantime, I wanted to get the necessary evil of discussing protection out of the way. Because I meant what I’d said. I wanted to be reckless for once in my life.

“I’m not in the habit of walking around with rubbers,” he admitted. “That’s not me.”

Hard not to take pleasure from that.

I had a condom or two at the bottom of my nightstand drawer; I just didn’t wanna use them with him, which I confessed as I grabbed a bottle of Jameson from the cabinet.

So…do we have anything to worry about?

No. Birth control?

On it.

When I turned around again, he’d lost his shirt and unzipped his jeans, and he was scrubbing his hands over his face. Then he let his hands fall, and he stared at me with the same hunger in his eyes as earlier, if not more.

“As long as you don’t play games with me, you can shake me down however the fuck you want, Blake.”

I wasn’t a player.

I returned to him and uncapped the whiskey bottle. “No games. I want you to be here in the morning.”

Those appeared to be the magic words, and he summoned me closer.

I took a sip of the whiskey before handing him the bottle, and then I sank to my knees in front of him, completely ignoring the pain that flared up in my leg. I had priorities.

He shook his head and lifted the bottle to his lips. “You gotta be a fuckin’ sin, woman.”

I smiled salaciously and tugged down his pants and boxer briefs. Christ, he wasn’t small anywhere. I leaned forward and maintained eye contact as I wrapped my fingers around him and dropped a kiss to the head of his cock.

He watched the entire time, even when he took a generous swallow from the whiskey. “I’ll give you thirty seconds before it’s my turn.” He combed his fingers into my hair, and at first I thought he was going to control my movements, but he was removing the rubber band and letting my hair down. “I want this wrapped around my fist soon.”

Looking forward to it.

I sucked him into my mouth and swirled my tongue around him, and I grew so hooked on watching the raw desire in his expression.

“You sure you want to be reckless?”

I nodded and withdrew, only to take him in again, all the way to the back of my throat.

CHAPTER FIVE

I WAS STILL TASTING the salty pre-come on my tongue when he threw me down on my bed. The mindless, uncontrollable kissing made a swift return, and Reid Hanna in charge was a whole other man. One I desperately wanted to get to know and get fucked by.

And still, he was sweeter than sugar.

“Where did you go to school?”

I laughed breathlessly and nipped at his bottom lip. “’Bout five blocks away from here.”

He wanted to get to know me. While we were having sex—or preparing to.

I was happy to play along, though. “How many siblings do you have?”

“Just the one sister. Two nieces, one nephew. More on this later.”

I gasped as he slid his hand between my legs, and I hurriedly squirmed my way out of my shorts. He’d been a good detective by losing his threads on the way in here.

“You’re stunning.” He sat back and stared at me.

I flushed at the heat in his voice and pushed myself up on my elbows.

He exhaled heavily and dropped his gaze to my legs. He parted them, my injured leg more gently than the other, and stroked his palms up my thighs. Down between them, where he brushed the backs of his fingers along my slit. His hungry gaze never fucking left my body, and he made me feel so damn desired.

“I’m not gonna lie,” he said, getting comfortable between my legs. “Those flimsy clothes have tested me all goddamn afternoon.”

I sucked in a breath and bit down on my lip as he closed the distance and kissed my pussy. And those were his last words for a while. He teased me mercilessly with ghosting touches and soft, openmouthed kisses, seemingly not giving a crap when I got impatient and tried to shift closer to him.

He hummed and dipped his tongue between my lips, and I could’ve fucking cried.

“Please, Reid—”

“Quiet. This is for me.”

I moaned and collapsed against the pillows, and he kept going. He applied pressure and licked my clit, then backed off to tease me again. He went all in and groaned as he sucked on the sensitive flesh around my opening, then eased off and nuzzled my inner thigh.

It wasn’t until I was literally trembling that he gave me what I craved. Sliding two fingers deep inside me, he wrapped his lips around my clit and tongued it sensually. It was how he went down on me; he kissed me like he’d kissed my mouth. He made out with my pussy and pushed me toward orgasm so fast that I lost my grip on reality.

The waves rushed over me, causing me to cry out and arch my back, and he offered zero recovery time. Before I knew it, he was replacing his fingers with his cock and gathering my hands in one of his above my head.

“Oh my God,” I whimpered.

He pushed in hard and wrapped my legs around him. His groaned curse rocked the bed, and fuck me if he didn’t rock my world too.

“HARDER,” I panted. “I need more.”

“Beg me.”

I cried out as he fisted my hair tighter and pulled back. I wasn’t freaking sure I could do better; I wasn’t sure I could form another goddamn word. He was fucking me so perfectly, right at that angle, from behind, his pelvis slapping against my ass each time he slammed in.

I white-knuckled the sheets, feeling another orgasm begin to surge within me.

“Please,” I begged breathlessly. “Deeper, Reid. Don’t stop—please, please fuck me.”

He groaned and went faster, his free hand finding its way between my legs to rub my clit. “I’m gonna come. Fuck.”

I nearly choked on the pleasure that erupted. Knowing he was about to come inside me, fill me up with his cock, pushed me to the edge.

“Goddammit,” he gritted out. Then he released my hair and kneaded one of my ass cheeks, his touch greedy and hard, and he didn’t stop there. His large hand made impact with a sharp smack, and I fucking lost it. As the fiery sting spread throughout me, he fucked me straight into climax.

Jesus Christ, the neighbors were going to complain soon. I wasn’t usually so loud.

“HOW’S YOUR LEG?”

“Barely hurts. How’s my butt?”

He chuckled and dropped a kiss right where he’d spanked me. “Sexy as fuck.”

I grinned lazily and tilted my head up. The hot water cascaded down on us, and I gave us approximately five minutes before it turned cold. Showering in the evening had to be a quick affair in this building.

Reid rose to his feet again and dipped down to kiss me. “Christ, you’re beautiful.”

“So are you.” I reached up and touched his chin. “How did you get that scar?”

He turned and kissed the inside of my hand. “I know I’m supposed to have a badass story from my deployments, but the truth is, I threw myself on the pavement when I was teaching my niece how to ride a bike. She fell over, and I was trying to catch her.”

That was both badass and wonderfully sweet.

“Be careful,” I replied with a soft smirk. “You’re turning into my dream guy.”

He shook his head in amusement and kissed me once more, apparently not believing me.

“REALLY? You can’t even wait for me to finish my slice—fine, just jump on that cock.”

I fucking did it too, with a grin on my face, ’cause he was adorably huffy and cute. While he sat there against my headboard, chewing on a mouthful of pizza, I straddled him and took his cock inside me again. It was his fault for getting hard and making me need more.

“This is on you,” I said. “You shouldn’t have teased me.”

“I teased you?” he retorted incredulously. “If you sit there and eat pizza naked and drop fuckin’ pepperoni on your tits, expect a man to rise to the occasion.”

Oh my God, I cracked up. I giggled like a damn schoolgirl and buried my face in the crook of his neck, at the same time as I tried to focus on fucking myself on his delicious cock.

“Stop giggling,” he chuckled through a groan. “It feels too good.”

All of this felt too good. He was amazing—and it was time for me to say so. He hadn’t exactly held back on the compliments.

“Hey.” I framed his face with my hands and kissed the corner of his mouth. Boy was still chewing. “It’s not my fault I can’t help myself around you, okay? If you don’t want me to take every opportunity to ride you, you gotta quit being so damn irresistible and wonderful.”

It was the sweetest damn thing. His scruffy cheeks actually felt warmer under my hands by the second, and the look in his eyes told me he hadn’t seen that coming. Maybe he wasn’t even used to hearing stuff like that, which was less sweet and more sad.

He tossed the crust into the box on the floor and reached for a napkin. I didn’t want to put him on the spot, so I focused on kissing him instead. His cheek, his jaw, his neck, down to his shoulder. Then his arms came around me, and he squeezed me tightly.

I wove my fingers through his hair and scratched his scalp lightly, earning me a hum of approval as he kissed me softly.

“I’m keeping you,” he murmured. “I’ll buy duct tape and chains first thing in the morning.”

I smiled into the kiss. “Not necessary—” Reid’s phone buzzed on the table, so I threw an annoyed glance at it. “I bet that’s Kellan. He’s known for his impeccable timing.”

He chuckled and checked his phone. “You’re right. And it looks like you can sleep safely tonight.” He showed me the screen and Kellan’s short message.

All done. Before you leave, tell Blake I’ll call her tomorrow morning.

I exhaled and glanced back at Reid. “But you’re not leaving.”

He shook his head, abandoned his phone, and took over again, flipping me onto my back and covering my body with his.

“Not until you kick me out.”

I sighed with absolute pleasure as he sank deeper into me. “Not gonna happen.”

EPILOGUE

One Year Later

“…AND I just assumed my radar was broken. There wasn’t a chance in hell this woman was flirting with me,” Reid said. “So there I was, calling my sister in Blake’s bathroom, wanting her take on things.” He smirked as everyone started laughing, including me, even though I’d heard the story several times now. “Yeah. Sarah would’ve slapped me through the phone if she could’ve, but at least she kicked my ass into gear and told me to make a fucking move.”

I smiled so hard and carefully wiped my fingers under my eyes.

“Best decision I ever made.” He peered down at me with so much love in his eyes, then raised his glass and faced our guests. “To my beautiful wife.”

A loud chorus of “Sláinte!” and “Cheers!” rang out across the restaurant, and I struggled not to get emotional again. It’d been a trying day. I’d cried embarrassingly much, but I blamed that on the mini detective kicking up a storm in my belly.

Reid sat down again, and I squeezed his hand.

“I love you so much.”

“More than words, sweetheart.” He draped an arm along the back of my chair and kissed my temple. “It looks like they’re bringing out the cake soon.”

That cake was my mom’s pride and joy, because it was one of the few things I’d let her be in charge of. Reid and I weren’t flashy people; we’d wanted a small and cozy wedding with our closest. My parents had pushed for huge and traditional.

We’d landed on seventy-six guests, including a mixed bag of mobsters and cops, which had made for an interesting night with lots of wine to get through the seating chart planning.

When Finnegan O’Shea and his family had come up to congratulate us, Reid’s boss had almost popped a vein in his forehead.

A lot of people turning a blind eye here tonight.

But hey, this was our family. More than that, this was the path Reid and I were choosing together. It was our life. It was going to be our life, for as long as we lived. A messy world of rights and wrongs and gray areas. Sometimes looking the other way, sometimes picking a battle to fight, sometimes following the law, sometimes breaking it.

“Penny for your thoughts, wife?”

I smiled and shook my head. “Just beyond ready to spend the rest of my life with you, Detective.”

He furrowed his brow. “You’re supposed to call me ‘husband’ so we can be ridiculously cute and cheesy together.”

He definitely made me laugh, that husband of mine.

About the Universe

We Can Turn a Blind Eye is a standalone short story from Cara Dee’s This Life Universe, with full-length novels about her Irish mobsters in Philly, with much more to come.

About the Author

I’m often awkwardly silent or, if the topic interests me, a chronic rambler. In other words, I can discuss writing forever and ever. Fiction, in particular. The love story—while a huge draw and constantly present—is secondary for me, because there’s so much more to writing romance fiction than just making two (or more) people fall in love and have hot sex.

I’m a writey person who loves to write. Always wanderlusting, twitterpating, kinking, cooking, baking, and geeking. There’s time for hockey and family, too. But mostly, I just love to write.

Get social with Cara

www.caradeewrites.com

www.camassiacove.com

Facebook: @caradeewrites

Twitter: @caradeewrites

Instagram: @caradeewrites

THROUGH THE DARK PLACES

A SOUTHBOUND SERIES STORY

CARMEN JENNER

CHAPTER ONE

LUNA

Magnolia Springs, Alabama, 2022

I DON’T WANT to be here. My breakup with Jeremy is too damn fresh, and the last thing I want is to be perceived as one of those dim-witted girls who go running right back to a cheater. But my friends got tired of my moping and practically dragged me out by the hair. Besides, they needed someone to be the designated driver, which—yep, you guessed it—falls to me.

I glance around the room, and lock eyes with tall, dark, and handsome who seems to be just as bored as I am. He’s surrounded by people, but he looks miserable as he nurses a solo cup in his big hands, his gray T-shirt pulled taut against an insanely muscled chest and broad shoulders.

He’s cute, in a dark melancholy kind of way, and I’m just about to point out the new hottie to my best friend Annabelle, when he locks eyes with mine. I swallow hard and glance away as heat claws up my neck and cheeks. When I look up again, Jeremy is standing in front of me, his breath washing across my neck and face as he leans in and kisses my collarbone.

And there goes any chance I had of talking to the mysterious new hottie.

I shove at Jeremy. “Ew. Get off. I don’t make out with cheaters.”

“Come on, baby.” Jeremy leans against the wall beside me, thrusting a red solo cup full of beer in my direction. I glare at it. “Have a drink with me? Let’s talk this out.”

“I have nothing to say.”

“It was an accident, babe.” He tucks my hair behind my ear, and I jerk away from him and grab the cup because I need a damn drink after all.

I drain the beer and wrinkle my nose, gagging a little before I thrust the empty cup back at him. “So, what you’re saying is that she just fell on your dick?”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it. I don’t want her. I was just drunk.”

“Well, that makes it so much better. Hey, maybe I can get drunk and deny responsibility for my actions too because I can’t handle my liquor.”

He takes a deep breath in through his nostrils and pinches the bridge of his nose, like I’m the one giving him a migraine. I head outside for some fresh air, the balmy breeze washing over me and making my head spin.

“Luna, come on. Just talk to me, baby.”

“Leave me alone, Jeremy.” I head for my truck, at least there’s one good thing about being a designated driver, I can leave whenever the hell I want. I really should’ve done this sooner.

I open the door to my truck and prepare to climb in when Jeremy whispers, “Luna, I fucked up. I made a mistake, please just hear me out.”

I turn and lean against the frame, staring up into a face I’ve loved and studied every inch of for two years. My head swims and I end up sitting heavily on the step and placing my head between my knees. Nausea roils in my gut. I have the urge to be sick, but even though I hate the boy standing in front of me—and he totally deserves it—I couldn’t bear the humiliation of puking at his feet, so I take several deep breaths and lean into his strong arms.

“Hey, look at me. Let me see those pretty eyes.”

I lift my head. I can barely keep my eyes open. All I want is to lay down on the bench seat of my truck and sleep, but I look at him, blinking several times to bring his face into focus. “Jeremy, I’m not feeling so good.”

He smooths the hair behind my ear and whispers, “It’s alright, baby. Let’s get you a little more comfortable.”

He lifts me into the cab of my truck. My head hits the edge of the steering wheel as I fall back against the cracked leather seat, and I press a hand to my temple to ease the sting. My fingers come away sticky and wet, and I see double when I raise them in front of my eyes.

“Jer?”

His hands slide up my thighs, under my skirt, and inside my panties. I try to push him away, but all the strength leaves my limbs, as if they’re floating up, up, up into the midnight sky like a wayward balloon.

“No. No … stop.” I groan in protest and shake my head as he invades my body, but he doesn’t stop.

“I know it’s a trip, baby,” Jeremy whispers. “But don’t you worry about a thing. I’m gonna take real good care of you.”

CHAPTER TWO

LUNA

Magnolia Springs, Alabama, 2029

QUIETLY, I close the door to my six-year-old’s room and tiptoe to the lounge. It’s been harder and harder to get her off to sleep lately because she’s a damn live wire from dawn till dusk. I flop down on the couch, and just focus for a beat on the fact that we made it another day. No one got hurt or injured, and apart from a few dishes soaking in the sink, my housework is done. And then I notice the pile of laundry in the basket beside the coffee table. Almost done.

I pour myself a tall glass of wine and turn on The Bachelorette, getting lost in the fantasy of thirty men all vying for my affection. She should take those damn roses and go run herself a bubble bath. Still, my eyes are riveted to the screen for the next ten minutes. And then, my obnoxious new neighbor blasts his death metal music and revs the engine of his muscle car, over and over again.

I fasten the tie of my robe, open the front door and storm across the yard to his porch. I bang my fist on it repeatedly, but there’s no response. Not as though I’m surprised. No one could hear me banging over the racket he’s making.

I give up on the front door and stalk across his driveway to the garage. The roller door is ajar, so I pound my fist on that. “Hey, asshole!”

A dog starts barking, just adding to the cacophony of noise that I know is going to wake my daughter. A beat later, the door rolls up to reveal a man wearing only a pair of ripped jeans and a little mechanic’s grease. His shirt is missing, his broad chest peppered with tattoos and—are those scars?

In the doorway leading to the rest of the house is a baby gate, and behind it, one of the biggest Boxers I’ve ever seen. He barks again and I jump back a little.

“Roofus! Sit,” the man commands. His dark eyes roll over me from head to toe and settle on my fluffy slippers, and then his lip turns up in a cocky smirk. “Hey. You must be from the welcoming committee.”

“What the hell is wrong with you? It’s past eight.”

He holds up one hand in a warding gesture, a thick silver wrench firmly clasped in the other. “Whoa. Calm down, hellcat.”

“Calm?” I scowl and stare pointedly at the speaker on his tool bench. “Would you mind turning off your shitty death metal?”

He squares his jaw and folds his arms over his broad chest. “Ask nicely.”

“Fuck you!” I storm into his garage and hit the power button on his pill-shaped speaker. “I just put my six-year-old to bed. I don’t know if you’re intellectually stunted from your steroid use, but revving your piece-of-shit car and blasting wannabe death metal doesn’t exactly win friends in the suburbs.”

“Sorry.” He tosses the wrench in the toolbox and takes several steps toward me. His dark eyes are hooded and molten as he holds my gaze. “I didn’t quite catch any of that—”

“Oh, so now you’re stupid and deaf?”

“Only in one ear. Had a run in with an IED in Afghanistan. You wouldn’t believe the headache you get afterward.” He whistles. “Anyway, lost total hearing for a while there, but at least my limbs are still intact.”

I open my mouth and close it again. Guilt worms its way through my gut as I look at him with fresh eyes and catalogue all the scars on his torso not hidden by tattoos.

“Shit,” I whisper.

He cups a hand to his ear. “What was that?”

“Just, keep it down.” I fold my arms over my chest. “And keep your damn dog from barking.”

He stands at attention and salutes. “Sir. Yes, sir.”

I throw my arms up in exasperation and push past him, out onto the drive.

He stands just outside the garage, his eyes burning into me as I stalk across my lawn. “Nice to meet you, neighbor. I’m so looking forward to gettin’ to know you better.”

CHAPTER THREE

LUNA

THE BRIGHT BLUE lights of the alarm clock come into focus as I yawn, and blink open my bleary eyes. “Oh no, no, no.”

I jump out of bed and race into Birdie’s room. She’s still sound asleep too. I’m not surprised considering it took me half the night to settle her after my idiot neighbor’s antics.

“Up, up, up.” I gently shake Birdie’s shoulder. “Come on. We’re late.”

My six-year-old rubs at her eyes with tiny fists. “I’m sleepy, mama.”

I nod, tearing around her room to find an outfit for her to wear. “I know, honey, but it’s time for little birds to spread their wings and fly for the day.”

“If we’re late, does that mean I have to spread them really wide and flap really fast?”

“Sure does.”

“Okay.” She sits up and throws her arms wide “Flap, flap, flap.”

“How did you get so dang cute?”

Her eyes go saucer-wide. “Mama, you custard.”

“I cussed,” I correct. “And I’m going to be cussing a lot more if you don’t move that cute little heinie of yours. Now, come on. Put something on and meet me in the kitchen in five minutes.”

She sighs and looks up at me with big blue eyes. “Toaster strusel again.”

“Toaster strudel, and I know it’s the second time you’ve had it this week, but I promise I’ll cook you something delicious and nutritious soon.”

“Okay, but if I have to eat it once more this week, I’m gonna have to report this to the afourities.”

I laugh. “Deal.”

I leave her room and brush my teeth as I pull my clothes from the wardrobe, then I slide into a pair of low pumps and slick my hair back. I wish I had more hands. Spitting out the paste in the sink, I shove the toothbrush in the holder and then splash some water on my face. Guess I won’t be wearing makeup today.

“Birdie, you almost ready?”

“Yep, yep, yep.”

“Don’t forget to brush your teeth.”

“Oops. I’m not ready, mama.”

“Hurry up, please. We’re so late it’s practically tomorrow.”

She giggles and it’s my favorite sound in the whole world.

Ten minutes later, we’re piled in the car, Birdie’s buckled in with her strudel in hand. I set my travel mug of coffee in the holder, turn on the ignition, and back out of my drive before putting on my seatbelt. Behind me, the deafening screech of tires forces my heart into my throat. Burned rubber assaults my nostrils and I glance at the rear-view mirror and notice a black muscle car almost on top of my bumper.

“Son of a bitch!”

“Mama?”

“Stay in the car, Birdie.”

I climb out of the vehicle. The offender has already exited his, and he takes a step toward me. “Are you okay, ma’am?”

“Are you insane?”

He blinks, taken aback. Hopefully it’ll teach him not to run over people with his hunk of junk. “I’m sorry?”

“You should be. My daughter is in the backseat, and you almost flattened us with your big dumb car. What the hell is wrong with you?”

He chuckles. “My big dumb car?”

“You think this is funny?”

“Clearly you don’t, but if I recall correctly, it was you who pulled out in front of me.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Says the woman yellin’ at me in the street. Again.”

I twist my mouth into a sneer and storm off, back to my shitty Cimarron and climb in. I don’t have time for my annoying neighbor right now, no matter how drop-dead gorgeous he is.

“Are you okay, mama?”

I buckle my seatbelt and adjust my mirror, giving her a tight smile. “I’m great, baby.”

I press the peddle to the floor and take off with a screech. “Woah. Are you gonna start racing cars with Uncle Jake?”

“Jake doesn’t race cars, honey.”

“He does when he picks May May and me up from school.”

“Oh my God.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and just breathe. I’m going to kill Jake and then I’m going to murder my new neighbor. Slowly. Painfully. Over and over.

AFTER DROPPING BIRDIE AT KINDER, I fly into the parking lot at Paws for Cause. I’m just about to swing into my park without looking clearly when I notice a big black muscle car sitting in my spot. “Son of a bitch!”

Is he following me?

I park the car right in front of his, effectively blocking him in, and grab my purse. Then I climb out, slamming my door and stalking into the front office. He’s there leaning against the counter, flirting with my boss Olivia, his black jeans hanging low on his hips, hair still wet, and shoulders every bit as broad as when I was facing him earlier.

“You!” I demand.

He straightens and turns, those pretty chocolate eyes glinting as one corner of his mouth tips up in a smile. “I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but … are you following me?”

“Me? Follow you?”

“Have you two met? Luna this is Wren—” Olivia says, but I hold my hand up to stop her.

“You took my spot,” I say.

“I’m sorry?”

“My parking spot. Not only did you almost run me and my daughter over this morning, but now you’re here, stalking me, and taking my parking spot.”

“Your spot?” He frowns. “You work here?”

It’s my turn to look confused. “Yes, I work here. A fact you well know because you dang followed me here.”

“How could I follow you here when I got here first?”

And … okay, he has a point, but before I can reply, Olivia pulls my focus by making wild hand gestures behind his back. “As I was saying, Luna, this is Wren. He’s our new dog trainer.”

“What?” I demand of her, but I don’t dare take my gaze from the snake in the grass.

“Hi. Wren Sawyer.” He holds out a hand for me to shake. “Otherwise known as big, dumb car guy.”

“You work here?”

“First official day. Gotta say though, Magnolia Springs really needs to work on the welcoming committee, they’re a little … abrasive.”

“Abrasive?” I demand, smoothing my shirt and skirting around his large frame behind the desk because I really feel the need to put a little distance between us. I plonk down in my chair, which rolls a little as I settle my weight and I have to grab the edges of the desk and scooch back in. “You took my spot.”

“And your terrible driving almost saw you back into me this morning.”

“You’re the one who nearly ran into me.”

“Hmm, probably doing you a favor. It is a Cimarron, after all.”

I scowl, and I’m just about to spit out another biting retort when Olivia says, “So I take it you’ve figured out you two are neighbors?”

“Yeah, we met,” I say bitterly.

“This morning when you almost crashed into—how did you put it? My big, dumb car.”

I glower, and he smirks. God, I hate a smirker.

I furiously click my mouse, trying to get my computer to wake up. The sooner I can get into my work, the sooner I can stop looking at this jackass. “You must be suffering memory loss too because we met last night. When the decibels coming from your garage woke my six-year-old.”

“Oh.” Olivia grimaces. “Well, I hope you both got it sorted and that no one was hurt.”

“No one was hurt, just my big, dumb ego.”

“Well, I’m sure it’s large enough to take a substantial beating and still pull through.”

He laughs—he actually laughs—and I want to hit him even more than I did when he almost crushed my car this morning. “I changed my mind. I like the welcoming committee just fine.”

CHAPTER FOUR

LUNA

2022

I STARE DOWN at the double lines on the pregnancy test and tears flood my field of vision. “Jesus.”

Bile rises in my throat, as I lift a shaking hand to my mouth, and then I vomit into the bathroom sink.

I’m pregnant. I’m fucking pregnant. My asshole ex raped me and left me for dead, and state laws say I can’t terminate his baby. I’m pregnant with my rapist’s child. I sink to my knees on the bathroom tiles, unable to breathe as guttural sobs leave my mouth.

Jeremy stole more than just my choice from me that night, he stole my whole fucking future, and there are no ramifications for him. But I’m forced to carry a monster’s offspring to term and to care for it for the rest of my life.

He took my fucking choice from me. Men took my choice.

Shaking with rage I get to my feet and stagger into my bedroom where I pull a wire hanger from the closet and slowly unravel the hook. Trembling, I make my way back into the bathroom and slip out of my skirt and panties.

I take several shuddering breaths, spread my legs, and insert the sharp metal. I pull the hand towel from the rack and bite down hard to cover my silent screams.

Blood gushes out of me, onto the white bathmat at my feet, and I clutch the counter and hold on for dear life to keep from falling over as my head swims and my body tremors with shock.

“Luna, are you in here?” my mother calls, but she sounds so far away.

My vision blurs, all the blood in my body runs cold, and I hear birds, flocks of them, singing in the live oak outside the window.

“Oh my God!” my mother cries. I’m vaguely aware of her hands on me, clutching me to her chest, but the room is so fucking cold. “Oh, Jesus. Luna what have you done?”

“M-my … c-choice,” I stutter, as I fall to the cold floor, and everything turns black.

CHAPTER FIVE

LUNA

2029

“MAMA, we’re late for story time,” Birdie tugs on my skirt as I put dinner in the oven. I widen my eyes in shock and glance at the clock. How is it four pm already?

“Well, then. You had better go get a book before the book monster comes and gets you.” I brace my hands in front of my body like claws and wriggle my fingers as if preparing to snatch her favorite. Birdie squeals and tears through the kitchen to the living room, jumping up onto the couch—our designated safe zone—while I’m hot on her heels.

I glance at the hard copy of Alice in Wonderland and just know I’m not getting anything else done before dinner. I take the book from her hands, and we cuddle up with cushions and soft blankets as we prepare to follow Alice down the rabbit hole.

I STARTLE AWAKE to the sound of the alarm on the oven and sit up. It’s dark inside the house and the TV is on, but Birdie isn’t in front of it.

“Little bird?” I call as I slide off the couch and stretch. I turn the oven off and walk the hall to her room. Pushing open the door, I flick the light switch. “Honey? You in here?”

I scan the bed and wardrobe and then I get down on hands and knees to check under the bed because she sometimes likes to hide there when she’s in trouble. “Birdie, come on out now. This isn’t funny.”

I check the bathroom and the hall closets, but she’s nowhere to be found. My heart hammers against my ribs. Oh my God. Where is my daughter?

I grab my phone from the coffee table and dial work. “Pause for Cause, Olivia speaking.”

“Olivia, it’s Luna.”

“Well, hi, honey. What are you calling for after hours? Couldn’t get enough of me at work, huh?”

“Birdie. Birdie’s missing.”

“Oh my God. Did you call the police?”

I shake my head. I didn’t even think to call them. Why didn’t I dial them first? “No. I just panicked and called you.”

“Hang up now and call 911. August and I are getting in the car right now. Don’t you worry, honey. We’ll find her.”

“Oh my God. I just fell asleep for a minute. Birdie has been up all night and I haven’t slept properly in days.”

“It’s okay. We’ll be there soon. You just sit tight.”

The curtain over the back door billows and icy dread slides down my spine.

“No!” I throw my phone and head through the door into the yard. “Birdie!”

I scream, running toward the water’s edge. I scan the bay in the dark, there’s no movement, save for the ripple of the wind on the obsidian surface. The moon hangs in the sky, reflecting in the black water. “Birdie!”

“Mama?” she calls from behind me, and I turn and run to her, falling to my knees, and scooping her up in my arms as I cry.

“Oh my God! You scared me half to death. Where were you? I thought you’d drowned.”

“Mama why are you crying? I was here the whole time.”

Someone clears his throat and I glance up. Wren is standing over us, his crazy dog nudges my side and licks the tears from my cheeks.

“She was with me. Wandered into my yard.”

I transfer Birdie’s weight to my hip and get to my feet glaring up at him. “Are you in the habit of entertaining little girls in your backyard?”

He sighs, as if I’m acting like a crazy person. “Luna.”

“Don’t.” I stalk toward the house. “Don’t come near me or my daughter.”

“Luna?” August yells from my front porch.

“She’s here,” Olivia says, as she comes around the side of the house. “Oh my God, you found her.”

“Yeah, no thanks to Wren.”

“I thought you could use the sleep,” he calls, and I turn back to him. “I don’t sleep much either. I see your light on most nights.”

“So, you thought it was a good idea to kidnap my daughter because I’m an insomniac?”

“You know you should be thanking me.”

“Thanking you?”

“What might’ve happened if she’d made it to the lake?”

“Are you calling me a bad mother?” My lip curls up in a sneer. It might not have started out that way, but my daughter is everything to me.

“Nope. I’m just sayin’, she could have been a lot worse off. I fed her pizza. We sat by the bay with Roofus and then we had a tea party. Ask her.”

I glance at my daughter’s wide eyes. She may not understand what’s happening here but I’m sure she can tell from my body language that mama’s not okay. I reach up and stroke her hair back from her face. “Is that true, little bird?”

She nods. “We had pepperoni, and it burned my tongue, so I fed mine to Roofus the Doofus.”

“Did Wren do or say anything else? Did he hurt you?”

“I’m not a monster, Luna.”

Birdie shakes her head, resolute. “We had tea parties, and Roofus tried to eat Mr. Snuffles, but I told him no, Roofus. No!”

My shoulders sag in defeat and I press a kiss to Birdie’s hair, swallowing back tears.

“You know,” August says leaning in to play with Mr. Snuffles. “She could’ve been in much worse hands. I hate tea parties.”

Sirens cut through the air and several tires squeal to a stop in my yard.

“Luna?” Ellie calls. I’d met Ellie and her husband Jake six years ago at the local Mommy and Me group and our daughter’s had been best friends ever since.

“Back here,” Olivia says.

I close my eyes and wish I’d had the forethought to check next door before I called Olivia, and Ellie called the police.

“I’m gonna go and chat with the officers,” August says walking toward the front yard. “Let them know everything’s fine.”

“Oh, thank God, she’s safe.” Ellie presses a hand to her heart and exhales noisily as she glances at Jake. “What happened?”

“I fell asleep,” I admit, my voice breaking over the last word.

“She was with me the whole time,” Wren says.

“Yep.” Olivia nods. “Turns out Wren was on tea-party duty.”

“Well, thank God Jake and August weren’t here. They’re the worst at tea parties.” Ellie laughs and gently squeezes my arm. “You doing okay, hun?”

“Oh, I’m pretty far from okay right now.”

She holds her arms out for Birdie. “Birdie, what do you say we have a sleep over tonight?”

“A sweep over? On a schwool night? Yeah!”

“Oh, no,” I protest. “It’s—”

“I insist,” Ellie says, giving me a look that brooks no argument.

“Pweese, mama?” Birdie begs.

“I don’t know, honey.”

“Come on, Maybelle’s spent the entire day with Spencer babysitting, she’s probably hopped up on sugar. You’d be doing us a favor.”

Olivia says, “You’re taking the next three days off anyway.”

“What? No. I can’t,” I pause and lick my lips, I’m not sure why I glance at Wren before finishing my sentence, but I lower my voice and say, “I can’t afford time off right now.”

“You can and it’s done.”

“Olivia.”

“I can’t use you if you’re exhausted. Someone could get hurt. Take the time off. Ellie and Jake will have Birdie for a few days, and you’re going to give yourself a damn break.”

“I can do my job just fine.”

“I know, but when was the last time you had a night off and just looked out for you?”

I open my mouth to answer, but the truth is … never. Not since I became a mom. Parents don’t get time off, especially not single parents.

“That’s what I thought.” Olivia frowns.

“We don’t mind, Luna. She’s no trouble. It’ll help us keep Maybelle entertained. Live a little.” She glances at Wren and a devilish smile twists her angelic face. “Maybe even invite a special friend over to work off a little steam.”

I gape at my friend and try to hide the blush stealing across my cheeks.

August comes through the back door, but his easy expression hardens when he sees the devious smiles Ellie and Olivia are giving me. “Okay, that look says you two are up to no good.”

Olivia wraps her arms around his waist, and he dotes on her, giving a secret little smile before steeling his features and addressing me, “The police want to verify that you and Birdie are okay, so I had them wait inside. If you’re all good here, we’re gonna split.”

“Come on, Birdie,” Ellie says, taking my daughter’s hand. “Let’s go get packed for your little staycation.”

Olivia takes August’s hand, and they head for the house.

“I’m not a charity case,” I call after them.

Olivia turns. “No one thinks you’re a charity case, Luna. You work so hard taking care of Birdie, but who’s taking care of you?”

My shoulders sag and she turns and walks away again, “I’ll see you at ten am Tuesday, and not a second before.”

I shake my head, knowing there’s no point in arguing with her on this. “Yes, boss.”

I glance at Wren, who’s still standing in my yard, probably waiting for a thank you. Jake’s gaze darts between us and then he backs up and says, “I’m gonna go help Ellie. I’m sensing you two have some things to discuss.”

Thanks, Jake. I roll my eyes and glance at Wren. “I’m sorry.”

He nods. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s really not. I should not have said what I did. I know that’s not who you are.”

“No, it’s not. But I get you were stressed out. I should have just brought Birdie back home. I just … don’t take this the wrong way, hellcat, but I saw how tired you were. I thought I was helping out. I was wrong.” He turns and takes several steps toward his yard. Roofus trailing along behind him.

“Thank you. For taking care of her.”

“You’re welcome.”

I point to the house and give him a sheepish smile. “Hopefully the police don’t call social services.”

“You’re doing the best you can,” Wren says. I search his face, wondering how he knows exactly how I’m feeling, and how to make me feel better when he barely knows me. “She’s lucky to have a mama like you. Not everyone gets that.”

I hug my arms and shrug. “Maybe my best just isn’t good enough.”

He smiles, but there’s a shadow in his eyes that betrays his brevity. “Nah, I don’t believe that. She’s a great kid, and she’s gonna turn out just fine.”

I don’t know why his words force a lump into my throat that I just can’t swallow around but I turn before he can see my tears and head for my living room to face the firing squad.

CHAPTER SIX

LUNA

THE HOUSE IS TOO quiet without a rambunctious six-year-old. After cleaning each room from top to bottom, and cooking enough food to feed an army, I pace back and forth around the living room, wringing my hands.

“This is stupid,” I tell the silence, and I head to the kitchen and pull out an empty casserole dish. There’s absolutely no reason for all this food to go to waste.

I slide the door open and walk across my yard into Wren’s. Roofus barks, and then tears free of his tether, bolting for me on gangly limbs that shouldn’t be able to carry the weight of his giant head.

“Roofus. No!” Wren calls and I close my eyes and brace myself for the out-of-control boxer barreling toward me. When I don’t hit the ground, but feel the air stir around me, I crack open an eyelid and stare down at the half-naked Marine splayed over a dog large enough to take off my leg. Thank God he’s friendly. I’m not so sure I can say the same about his owner.

“Hey.” Wren casually smiles up at me as if he just saved the day. Again.

“Hi.” I shift the casserole dish in my hands trying to avoid burning the pads off my fingertips.

Roofus’s tongue sweeps out and licks Wren’s face, and he laughs and climbs off the dog, grabbing him by the collar before he can jump all over me. “Sorry, seems he’s just excited to see you.”

“Seems that way.” I stare down at the casserole.

“Let me guess,” Wren’s smile is smug as he eyes the dish in my hands. “You made too much and thought you’d bring me a plate?”

I frown, annoyed that all he seems to do is mock me and read more into my words and gestures than he really has a right to. “Well … I … yeah, but I can always just take it back if you’re not interested.”

“No, no. Let’s not make any hasty decisions,” he says coolly. “It’s real nice of you to ask me to dinner.”

“I’m not … I … what?”

“That’s what you’re doin’, isn’t it?”

“I just came to deliver this—”

“Have you eaten?”

I frown. “No.”

“So, you are asking me to dinner?”

“Oh my God.” I resist the urge to stamp my foot. Sort of. I do actually lift my leg off the ground, but I set it down as gently as I can, so he won’t see how rattled I am. “My six-year-old uses her words better than you.”

Wren cants his head as he studies me. “Did you just stamp your foot?”

“No.”

“I think you did.” That grin busts out on his face again and I am one more smart remark from turning and leaving, but the smile falls, and he wets his lips. “I tell you what, how ’bout we call a truce, you and me?”

I arch a brow. “I didn’t know we were at war.”

He just grins like the Cheshire. “Come on, hellcat. Plates are inside.”

I glance nervously at his house and then back at him. Aside from at work, I’m never alone with any man, and warning goosebumps make my hair stand on end. I can see this kitchen through his open back door from here, but I can’t move my feet.

Wren seems to pick up on my hesitation and gives me that easy smile of his. “Tell you what, why don’t you give me the casserole and I’ll serve things up inside and bring them out?”

I nod and relinquish my hold on the dish, and then I settle into the deck chairs on his lawn and wish that I could glue my feet to the ground, so I can’t run. It’s not that I feel unsafe with Wren that’s the issue, it’s that when I’m around him, I can’t shake the feeling that we’ve met before, that I feel safe and comfortable with him, which is completely nuts. Aside from the few times we’ve interacted here and at work, I don’t know this man at all. So why the hell was I dying to come over here?

AFTER CONSUMING an entire bottle of wine, I stand at the water’s edge between our houses while Wren takes our plates inside. Roofus sits at my feet, his warm belly covering my toes.

“Don’t do it,” Wren says from behind me. “Don’t jump.”

I shake my head, it’s after midnight, and I have no desire to go swimming after the wine has done its work and lowered my inhibitions.

“You look kinda pensive out here all by yourself.”

I turn and level him with a meaningful look. “I like the quiet.”

“Well, I guess I ruined that. Now, didn’t I?”

I laugh. “It’s okay. I kind of like knowing I’m not the only one awake in the middle of the night too.”

His brow pinches together and he lowers his gaze. “Yeah, night terrors will do that to you.”

“What do you dream about?”

“You first,” he says and pulls his sweater over his head with one hand—seriously, how do guys do that and manage to look so effortlessly sexy—and he throws it on the bank. His T-shirt comes next, and I can’t help but stare at every inch of muscle. My fingers twitch at my sides, longing to touch him.

“What in the world are you doing?”

“Going for a midnight swim, Luna Bay, what does it look like?”

“You’re crazy. I bet it’s freezin’ in there.”

“Have you never been skinny dippin’? The air might be cool, but the water is warm and smooth as molasses. It always is on nights like this.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it.”

He holds his hand out to me. “Why not just take a chance?”

I stare at his outstretched palm for a long time, too long, so long he retracts it and takes a step backward with that cocky grin of his. His belt buckle clangs as he unfastens it and shoves his jeans down his hips, then he steps out of them. He’s wearing boxers—praise Jesus—and thankfully, he leaves them on as he races down the beach and dives into the water.

“Come on, Luna. What good is living on the bay if you don’t go swimming at midnight?”

I shake my head, unable to believe I’m about to do this, but I pull my sweater off and toss it on top of his. Then I peel off my jeans and stand on the bank in my bra and panties. It’s the most exposed I’ve been in years, and I thank God I can’t see his expression in the moonlight because I might lose my nerve. I wade into the water, surprised to find he didn’t lie about how warm it is.

Apparently, I’m moving too tentatively for him, because he skims his palm over the water, splashing my torso and face. I shriek, but I wade a little further and sink down. Roofus comes splashing in after us and doggy paddles toward me, and then I’m being drowned by the mini horse who has no idea how large he really is as he tries to hold onto my shoulders.

“Doofus, no!” Wren shouts, and then he breaks out into peals of laughter as his dog tries to hump me.

“Get him off me. Wren! It’s not funny.”

Wren comes closer and pries his dog off of me and then he orders him to go sit by the bank and wait. Roofus dogpaddles away from us, and I meet Wren’s gaze with a sheepish smile. He’s only a hairsbreadth away and my eyes follow the water droplets that stream down his face. He’s frightfully beautiful, something I tried to ignore every time we’re in the same room. His smile fades and then he reaches out and pulls me to him, pressing his lips to mine.

Fear knots in my belly and I push him away. “No!”

I make a beeline for the bank, wading through the water as if it were mud trying to swallow my steps.

“Shit,” Wren says.

Roofus’s tail wags as I get closer, but I ignore him. I don’t bother stopping to pick up my clothes either, I just scramble away as fast as I can.

“Luna, wait.” Wren reaches out and grabs me, his fingers digging into the flesh of my upper arms.

I swing, hitting him in the face. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

His eyes are wide as he studies me, but he backs up a step with his hands held out in a placating gesture. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I should have asked.”

I’m shaking but it’s not from the cold. Rage and fear war within me, but the latter wins out and I spin on my heel and sprint towards my house.

“Luna!”

I shove inside and slam the door, sliding the deadbolt in place. A fist pounds on the other side, making me jump, and I back away and sink to the floor. “Luna, please?”

I slide my knees up to my chest and hug them tight as I sit shivering on my kitchen floor, and I don’t move from that spot until long after I hear him walk away.

CHAPTER SEVEN

WREN

Magnolia Springs, Alabama, 2022

I STARE at my watch. 00:47 hours. I guess it’s early by civilian standards. I didn’t want to come here. What the fuck is there to celebrate? My mama just died, and my buddies are likely being blown to smithereens in a desert halfway across the world.

I crush my empty solo cup and toss it into the trash, meeting the gaze of a girl across the room. She’s pretty—long blonde hair, sad blue eyes, and plush, full lips. She looks like she wants to be here as much as I do.

Some douche steps in front of her and leans in to whisper in her ear, practically pissing all over his territory. I clench my jaw and watch her take the drink he offers and down it in one go. She shoves him back and heads for the nearest exit, and I relax a little because it’s none of my fucking business.

He’s probably giving her shit for making eyes at me. She’ll yell, he’ll yell louder, and they’ll have makeup sex in the back of his truck. Meanwhile, I’ll be wheels up in a few hours, heading back to a war I’m not sure I even belong in.

I move toward the exit, but my high school buddy Trenton claps a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, man. Where are you going? Party’s just getting started.”

“Just need some air,” I reply on autopilot. I don’t bother telling him that coming here was a waste of time, or that I’m on a plane back to a war zone tomorrow.

What’s the fucking point, of any of it? Being here with these assholes just makes me realize how great the divide is between civilians and those who serve.

“Come back, soon, yeah? I got someone I want to introduce you to.”

“Sure,” I say over my shoulder, but I have no intention of coming back inside. I’m done. I want out of here.

Outside, the party spills onto the porch and into the yard. I cut through the legions of empty trucks, until the noise of the party gives way to the quiet Alabama night. A muffled plea comes from one of the trucks nearby, and I stop dead in my tracks.

“Oh, yeah, baby. I love how fuckin’ wet you are.” Clearly someone’s having a better night than me. “That’s it. Take my cock in your ruined little cunt. I’ll fuckin’ teach you to break up with me.”

Jesus. I shake my head and keep walking, but the hair on the nape of my neck stands on end and I stop, waiting, listening, I don’t even know what for. And then I hear it, as clear as the stars above, “No. Stop.”

I’m over the fucking tail gate of the nearest car in a heartbeat, pulling this asshole off of her, and slamming his face into the side of the truck until he’s not fighting anymore, but falls to the ground with his limp dick hanging out and half his face bashed in. I glare down at him for a beat longer, just to make sure he’s not getting up anytime soon. When I realize he’s out cold, I take a look at the girl. Fuck. Blonde hair is splayed across the seat, mattered with blood. Her sad blue eyes open and close as her face contorts with pain. That fucker must have roofied her.

Blood and semen cover her thighs and the leather seat, and I strip off my flannel and cover her body from view as I gently slap her cheek. “Hey, can you hear me?”

She groans. And I waste no time in rounding the truck and climbing into the driver’s seat. I lift her head to rest it in my lap—because there’s no way she’s capable of sitting up—but my fingers come away sticky with blood.

“Hang in there, okay? You stay with me. I’m taking you to a hospital.” I fumble with the visor, searching for a spare key. It falls into my lap along with a photo of the girl with her arm around the cunt who raped her. I shove the picture in my pocket, slam the keys in the ignition, and throw the truck in drive.

CHAPTER EIGHT

WREN

2029

ROOFUS LOUNGES ON THE COUCH, so deeply asleep his little paws are running in place as he’s chasing squirrels, cats, or maybe Birdie in his dreams. I run my fingers over the photo in my hand and slip it back in my pocket. Since I figured out my gorgeous-as-fuck neighbor and the girl I saved all those years ago are one and the same, I haven’t been able to talk to that picture since. Probably for the best. This town already thinks I’m a big enough weirdo.

I pick up my wine and finish the glass, setting it back down on the coffee table. And then I stand and pace in front of the window. I shouldn’t be drinking on my meds. I shouldn’t be drinking alone because I can’t switch off my brain. I can’t stop thinking about that night six damn years ago when the world as I knew it fucking imploded. I should have told her. I should tell her.

Lighting illuminates the sky, midnight and deep purple with the white-hot glow of electricity. Sometimes, in storms like this, I think about walking out in it. Just standing in the rain, the water pooling at my feet, my head thrown back to the sky and my fate at the mercy of the gods. I can’t do that though. I’ve stormed Afghani strongholds with my brothers, run toward the sound of chaos without a second thought for my own self-preservation because it’s what was expected of me, but I can’t tempt fate like this, because I’m not sure I shouldn’t be struck down for all the awful shit I’ve done.

Roofus sits up on the couch, sensing the change in my mood, picking up on my agitation. His ears prick as he narrows his eyes on the back door and lets out a deep growl.

I throw open the door and stalk across the grass in the rain. Sandy soil sticks to my bare feet, and the rain soaks me through as I surge toward the figure running for me.

“Luna, what the hell are you doing out here?” I grab her shoulders, but she shoves me back.

“You were there that night, weren’t you? Weren’t you?” she demands as she steps toward me, and I have no choice but to back up or be run over. “You were there. I couldn’t figure out why I knew your face, why you looked so goddamned familiar, but you were at that party.”

My shoulders fall. I didn’t want her to find out like this. I wanted to tell her myself, I just didn’t know how without coming off like some whack job.

She covers her mouth with her hands, and swallows hard. “Oh my God.”

“Come inside,” I plead and grab her hand.

She jerks out of reach. “Don’t you dare touch me! Don’t touch me!”

I hold up my hands in a placating gesture. “Please, let me explain.”

“Did you know him? Did you know my ex?”

“No! Jesus. No, I didn’t know that sick fuck. He’s lucky I left him breathin’. It would have been so goddamn easy to squeeze the life right out of him, I wanted to, and then I saw you, bleeding and unconscious, beaten, and I knew I couldn’t walk away.”

“All this time, you let me believe we’d never met. Why?”

“I didn’t even know it was you. Not at first.”

“Did you figure it out before or after you kissed me?” She backs away, suddenly so afraid.

“Luna!”

“Stay away from me, Wren!”

“I didn’t know him. I stopped him. I took you to the hospital.”

She turns back to me, her brows pinched together. “What?”

I clear my throat. “I pulled him off you. I started swinging, I didn’t stop until he was unconscious, but I wanted to fucking kill him. The second I approached the cab of that truck, I could …” I wipe the rainwater from my eyes and stare down at my feet. “I could smell the blood, the semen.”

My stomach twists, but I swallow down my revulsion, my fear, and the injustice of what was done to her. “There isn’t much to tell after that. I covered you in my shirt, and I took you to the hospital. I wanted to stay, more than anything, but I had orders to ship out early, and I didn’t know nothin’ about you. I didn’t think after what you’d been through that you needed a strange man hanging around.”

“When? When did you figure out who I am?”

“Last night. I have these night terrors.”

“The screaming.”

I nod. “Last night I was back there. I couldn’t save you. I wasn’t quick enough.”

Her face crumples and she pleads, “Why didn’t you say nothin’?”

“What the hell was I gonna say?”

“I don’t know, that you were there? That you saved me?”

“I couldn’t. How could I when I’m falling in love with you?”

“What?”

“Shit … I … I didn’t mean that. I mean, I didn’t mean to say it now, not like this.”

“You don’t even know me.” She backs up a step, shaking her head.

“Luna, wait.” I reach for her, but she turns and runs. The water beats down on us like a deluge, and I grab her arm and turn her to face me. “I do. I know you. I know you sit up late at night because you can’t sleep. I know you don’t trust men, with good reason. I know you’d do anything for your daughter. I know you’re the reason I’m here. You kept me alive over there.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I took this from your truck that night.” I take the picture from my pocket and glance at it one last time before I hand it over, before the rain destroys it, before I lose the girl in that photo forever.

“I only took it for identification purposes, but when everything happened, I forgot to give it to the nurses, and then I shipped out.” I move a little closer to her, wanting her to really hear my words. “At night, it’s so hot and hard to sleep with the sound of gunfire in your ears and the scent of char and dust in your nose. I talked to you out there, in my bunk when I couldn’t sleep, when we were on assignment beyond the wire. I wrote you letters, but I didn’t have an address to send them to.”

Her hand covers her mouth.

“I know you, Luna. I know what keeps you up at night, I know all the dark places in your past, and I want to be the light in them, just like you were the light in mine,” I shout as the rain pelts down on us. “And I know you feel this too.”

She grabs a fistful of my soaking shirt and yanks me down to her, sweeping her lips across mine. I cup her face and pull her closer, and then she drives her tongue into my mouth, and I die a little inside because the woman I’ve thought about night and day, the woman I’ve wanted for so damn long, is finally in my arms.

I slide my hands from her face down her body to cup her ass. She jumps and wraps her legs around my hips, and I walk us out of the rain, onto my front porch. She strips my shirt over my head and throws it on the floorboards, and then her arms wrap around my neck again and we devour one another.

I can’t keep my hands off her, though I know I need to be so careful, like defusing a damn bomb, she could detonate, and I’d miss any chance to ever get this close again.

With her legs wrapped around me, I walk us through the back door of my house and into the dimly lit living room.

She trails cold fingertips over my scars, feeling the rough, raised edges. I try my best not to flinch, but as her eyes meet mine there’s a hint of a challenge in them.

I ease her onto the floor and settle into the space between her legs. Luna grabs the hem of her T-shirt and I help her pull it over her head. It lands on the carpet with a wet thud, and I glance down at her shivering body, no bra, just smooth, milky skin, and wet jeans. She writhes against the hard-on straining the fabric of my sweats, her moans driving me fucking crazy.

“Is this what you want, darlin’?” I hate myself for asking, because I want her so bad, I feel like I might die if I don’t get to touch her, love her, sink myself deep inside her, but someone else took that choice from her once, so I need her to know she has one with me.

Hungry doe eyes meet my gaze, and she nods.

“I’mma need you to say it, hellcat.”

“Please, Wren?” Her voice catches. “Take me, please.”

I bow my head and take her nipple in my mouth. My fingertips trace the swell of her breasts and the soft flesh of her abdomen, and then I grasp her waistband and yank her closer. A gasp escapes her lips and I smile apologetically

I peel the soaked jeans from her legs and toss them on the floor with her shirt as she looks at me with wide, pleading eyes. Trailing my fingertips between her breasts, I watch her nipples harden and her whole body breaks out in goose bumps. Her skin is cool from the rain, and it acts like a balm because I’m on fire just touching her.

I lean in and kiss her again, cupping her face with my hands and forcing her to open wider for me, to let me consume her, because one kiss will never be enough. She shivers as she presses her bare breasts against my chest, and her arms come around my neck, and then her rib cage shudders, and I realize she’s softly crying.

“Hey, hey. Don’t cry, darlin’.” I lean in and kiss the saltwater from her cheeks, and then I pull away so I can study her face as I whisper, “Don’t cry. We don’t have to do nothin’ you don’t want to.”

I roll us so that she’s on top, stretched out against my body, but I’m careful not to touch her, it’s important she knows she has the power here, she always will where I’m concerned.

Those blue eyes are filled with sadness, but I think I see longing in them too. “I want to. I’m just … I’m terrified.”

“You set the pace, and I’ll follow. If you don’t want to do anything, or if you want to do everything. I’m okay with that,” I say. I cup the nape of her neck and trail my hands down her back as she sits up. Her hips are still several inches above mine and I long to touch her, to taste her, but I relinquish control. Not something I’m used to doing. “Can I touch you?”

She nods and I trace a finger up her inner thigh to her pussy. She lets out a shuddering breath as I gently tease her lips apart, caressing her soft flesh, and enticing her to open wider for me. I slide my thumb over her clit. Her body jerks involuntarily, but she closes her eyes and rocks her hips against my hand.

“I need you, Wren. Please? Make love to me, please,” she begs, trailing kisses down my neck and torso while her fingers tug at the drawstring on my pants.

I curl my abs and sit up, taking one nipple in my mouth while I continue stroking her. Our bodies are pushed closer together now, and she lifts her hips and shoves my sweats down, reaching for me. Her hand wraps around my dick, stroking from root to tip, and then she lines my cock up with her entrance and sinks down onto me, impaling herself with one swift movement.

“Fuck.”

She opens fever-bright eyes, her mouth forming a perfect little “O”. Her breaths are heavy as I kiss her, thrusting my tongue into her mouth, forcing her to open to me, to give it up to me. I snake my hands across her body, cup her full, beautiful tits as our kisses deepen. I pepper her neck with kisses, wanting to taste every inch of her. I palm her breasts and suck one nipple into my mouth. Luna threads her fingers in my hair and throws her head back, a moan escapes those perfect pillowy lips. I can’t stand not moving inside her any longer, so I thrust underneath her and she cries out as she takes every inch.

“Jesus,” I groan, as she begins rocking her hips back and forth in time with my thrusts and then setting her own pace, one that makes her beautiful tits bounce.

I can’t keep from touching her. One hand grips her hip, while my other strokes her body—breasts, ass, and finally her clit. Her breath hitches and she shakes when I circle her clit, throwing her head back with a moan as she milks my cock and rides her high.

Soon after, I’m chasing my own high as I pump into her a final time and then pull out and spill my seed over her soft, pink pussy. We stay wrapped in one another, panting and breathing the same breath, and then I lean in and kiss her forehead, hardly able to believe that I found her, that I’m the lucky bastard who gets to make things right.

CHAPTER NINE

WREN

DARTING OUT MY TONGUE, I lick Luna’s pussy from entrance to clit. Her flavor rolls over my tastebuds—rich and sweet—and so fucking unforgettable.

“Wren, Wren … oh, fuck.” She threads her fingers in my hair. I bury my face in her pussy, and lick and suck her clit until her legs shake. But her cries—and presumably her orgasm—are cut short by the pounding on my front door.

“Shit.” I wipe the moisture from my beard with the back of my hand and lick it clean as the pounding intensifies.

Luna’s eyes flicker with desire and then she pouts. “You should probably get that.”

“They’ll wait.” With any luck they’ll just fucking go away.

Olivia shouts, “Wren, are you home?”

“Fuck.”

“What?”

“I gave them a fucking key. In case …” I swallow hard and meet her gaze. “In case I didn’t show up for work. In case I got a little too caught up in my head, and tried to hurt myself.”

“Oh, Wren.” She sits up and wraps her arms around me.

“I’m okay, but unless you want everyone to see your pretty pink pussy dripping on my bed, you should probably cover up.”

No sooner than I’ve said the words, Olivia pokes her head around my bedroom door, and Luna hides under the covers.

“Wren, are you in here?” Her eyes are shielded, but she peeks through her fingers. “Oh shit. I am so sorry. I didn’t realize you had company.” She turns her back on us and says, “Um, have you by any chance seen Luna? She’s not home and we just came to drop Birdie off.”

“Hi, Olivia,” Luna says.

Our boss squeals in delight. “Oh my God! I am so, so happy for you guys. I’m just gonna go so… forget I was even here.”

“Olivia, where’s Birdie?”

“Oh, she’s in the car with August but don’t worry. I forgot we promised to take her for ice cream. We’ll see you two later.”

She beats a hasty retreat through my house and out my front door and I grin down at the beautiful woman before me. “Looks like we only have a few hours before we’ve gotta face the firing squad.”

“Looks like.”

“We should probably make the most of it then.”

“Proba—oh, God!”

I’m already one step ahead of her, burying my face in her sweet cunt, and savoring every second, because I’ve searched for her for so long, and I have no intention of ever letting her go.

Want more of the Southbound Series?

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About the Author

Carmen Jenner is a USA Today and international bestselling author.

A hardcore red lipstick addict and a romantic at heart, Carmen enjoys books—duh!—long walks through Sephora, tattooed boys, and eyeliner so sharp it could kill a man. She lives in small-town Australia, where she wrangles her two children, a French Bulldog named Busy, and her very own manchild.

Carmen always gives her characters the HEA they deserve, but not before ruining their lives completely first…because what’s a happily ever after without a little torture?

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YOU WERE ALWAYS MINE

C.L. MATTHEWS

CHAPTER ONE

SERENDIPITY IS his rough hands trailing up my thighs. Yearning is pulling away before we finish what we started. The irony is acknowledging that he’s my father’s best friend.

Uneven torrents caress my body, climbing, reaching for every inch they can consume. I moan as they pinch my nipples and rub soothingly after.

His teeth nip at my sensitive throat, ensuring I feel each movement. “We shouldn’t,” I hiss as he rubs indecent circles over my clit. A grunt is the only response he offers me.

“You’re mine, Little Bit,” he rasps, his tongue flicking over my pulse point. “Mine to taste, mine to enjoy, and mine to fuck.”

“Please,” I beg, wanting him inside me, to finally give into our torturous game. Over and over. I whimper, waiting for him to take me.

“Carter, dude, wake up!” Lori calls out to me, shaking me from my daydream. Shit. Not again. I close my eyes, shame hitting me square in the chest.

It’s been like this for years.

The push and pull.

He’s off-limits, twice my age, and my father’s best friend.

Is it acceptable? Probably not.

Does he reciprocate? No, no, he doesn’t.

“Seriously, you’re going to be late for graduation!” she yells again.

Groaning with the bed as I rise, exhaustion hits me. My internship ended two weeks ago, and it could’ve led to so much more.

Unfortunately for me, journalism for the everyday kind of news isn’t what I want. Celebrity gossip, though? Sign me up.

I want to do journalism for celebrities.

I want the scoop.

“Coming!” I holler back, knowing she’s right. Last night, we both, along with a few of our friends, got wasted, wanting one final celebration before we moved out of our dorms and split up.

They say friendships at the age of twenty-five are forever. As someone who is about to be twenty-five, I disagree.

Friends ebb and flow, rising to the occasion and ending when they’re meant to. I’ve not had a longtime friend, ever.

It doesn’t help that I grew up when gossip magazines were everywhere, constantly discussing who was screwing who and what personality I reflected most. I lived for drama, and not all of my friends enjoyed the same niche.

I haven’t changed much since then. My addictions are the same. Celebrity mags and rumors were what keep me entertained. Don’t even get me started on reality TV shows. They are my bread and butter.

“I’m leaving in twenty,” Lori calls out, and I drag myself to my closet. Our gowns are black, and we’re required to wear a dress underneath. I love dresses. However, black is not my color. Pink, teal, green, and even burnt orange are my go-to’s. Black, not so much.

Grabbing the black number I got just for this, I press it against me. The mirror reflects me, showing me how off it feels. It’s not happy and free.

“Give me thirty!” I finally respond, knowing five minutes have already passed as I stared at my choice of outfit.

I hurry to put it on, skipping the bra. My chest isn’t huge, and not wearing a bra will make the spaghetti straps look better. Also, it’s soft and comfortable against my skin. At least that’s a plus.

Rushing to the bathroom, I brush my teeth. I won’t have much time for makeup, but a simple winged look and some eyeshadow should suffice.

After I’m ready, hair naturally curled and a simple face, I pull my gown from the hanger and head toward the kitchen. Lori leans against the counter, drinking her coffee with a grumpy, tight smile.

“Thank you for letting me crash.” A few weeks ago, I caught my boyfriend—now ex—with someone from his undergraduate class in our bed.

“It’s no biggie,” she responds, polishing off her drink. “Sorry for yelling at you. I didn’t sleep much, my hangover is killer, and I hate that we’re graduating… again.”

I nod, thinking of how we technically don’t have to walk. However, Dad always enjoys seeing my success and convinces me every time to walk so he can scream and cheer.

“Yeah, next time—if there is one—I won’t be walking again. Waking up early to get there, and then waiting an extra four hours isn’t exactly what I call appealing.”

She directs her head to the fridge. “Picked you up the cold brew you like. Hurry and make a tumbler full, and we can leave.”

Letting out a breath of relief, I hug her. “You’re the best, thank you!”

Hangovers are more bearable with cold brew coffee or caffeine in general. I hurry and mix my drink, taking a quick gulp before Lori shoves me out the door.

THE EVENT ENDS with an exhausting speech and waiting for everyone to grab their diploma. Lori, I, and a few others from our journalism class stand and take pictures as I wait for my dad. His voice carried in the stadium when they called my name. No one yelled and whistled louder, and my cheeks burned with pride and shame coming from his show of love.

After we take group photos, I search the crowd, and before spotting my dad, my eyes lock onto dark ones I’m not expecting.

He’s never been to my university graduation. For high school, sure. Since then? No.

It’s been awkward for a few years for reasons neither of us speaks of. Not so much on my end. I’d do just about anything to repeat that night.

He’d rather die.

It’s apparent in his behavior since then.

My eyes lock on his dark brown hair. It’s always styled with gel or mousse unless he’s working. When he’s out of the office, it’s messy. Today, it’s in disarray.

Dresdon Ackerley.

“Bitty,” he sounds out as if he’s forgotten what the words sound like on his lips. His tone is thick with that familiar rasp that sends chills through my frame. Bitty—Little Bit—he’s called me that since childhood. I’ve always been small. Well, short. I’ve got soft curves for days, wide hips, and an overflowing waist.

“Acker,” I exhale breathily, thinking of the dream I had of him this morning.

“I’ve missed you.” He pulls me in, embracing me. His usual warmth and spice hit my nose, overwhelming me with pleasure. There’s something about his cologne that’s both welcoming and masculine. It consumes me. I fall into him as he holds on a little too long. No one says anything or acts as if it’s out of character, but I know it is, taking advantage of every breath that passes.

Taking one last inhale before he lets me go, I soak in the endorphins it offers me. Fuck, the hold this man has on my heart. Of course, it’s wrong and immature for me to garner feelings for a man twice my age, but somewhere along the way, my emotions went from comfort to all-consuming.

“I can’t believe you came.”

A little smirk tilts his lips, and every part of me ignites, wondering if he still tastes of cinnamon and forbidden heat.

Cupping my jaw, he brushes a thumb over my chin. “Miss you graduating for the last time? Not a chance.” My eyes flutter at how much I read into his words. He’s being kind and nurturing, but the big part of me obsessed with him holds onto hope.

“Baby girl, is that you?” Dad hollers from the crowd, breaking our lapse of judgment. Acker drops my chin and turns to his best friend.

“Was wondering if you got lost, old man,” Acker jokes, but there’s a worry etched on his forehead. Dad can’t see me from this place, but his footsteps rebound as he makes his way to me. His eyes light up, happiness and relief filling his soft umber eyes.

“Hey, daddy,” I croon, closing the distance for a hug.

He’s not sober; his emotion-filled gaze tells me that. But as he engulfs me, the scent would’ve given him away. No wonder Acker seems concerned.

“I missed you so much, sweet girl. It feels like it’s been so long.” I missed our last few dinners, so it has been over a month since we’ve seen each other. Holding me to him, I hold him tighter. Acker moves to where he’s back in my sight, acting as if he wasn’t just holding me as if I mattered.

Dad lets me go slowly, holding my face before dropping a chaste peck on my forehead. He seems so tired, and I wish that would melt away so he can be himself again.

“I’m so proud of you, Carter. Your mom would be so proud too,” he praised me, emotion welling up.

Tears come in, thinking of my mom and how much I’ve missed her. She passed away two years ago from cancer. Now, she’s kind of a memory that keeps me going.

She’d be proud of my success, but she’d definitely question my longtime crush on my dad’s best friend and how when she died, we both crossed a line.

CHAPTER TWO

GRIPPING my bag from the passenger side of my car, I head toward my family home. The steps outside our home are the same as usual: spotless, leaf and dirt-free. Somehow, I still feel weird.

Once inside, I take a large breath, steeling myself for Dad’s newest bedmate. Every week, we have dinners. We always try to keep that tradition, even with Mom gone.

After Mom passed, Dad started going off the rails with spending and his need for escape…in women. He’s still the sweet, protective, and loyal man, but he’s less than himself. Empty.

It got so bad that I never knew what to expect when I came home, except for Dresdon Ackerley, or Acker, as I call him.

Dad would literally rip him apart if he ever finds out Acker touched me in a way no father would approve of.

We are well off, always having had money and a place where we could live. We paid for a cook, a cleaner, and even a nanny when I was young and Acker was busy.

This time is a little different. It’s after graduation. It’s where Mom’s presence is missed the most. She celebrated my wins as if they were her own. But, my cousins, Dad’s friends, and Acker will be here, and I’ll be struggling through the worst of awkward conversations.

Like, why my longtime boyfriend Tomas—now ex—isn’t here and why I didn’t warn anyone that I’d be coming alone.

Voices drift over the low tunes playing. Dad probably has a pianist on payroll tonight. He tends to do that when he wants to announce something or feel extra special.

Whether he admits it or not, I know he isn’t coping well. May it be a bottle or a blonde, Dad escaped a lot. He’s always there for me, always loving, but he’s also sad. And so, so lonely.

When I started my last semester, Acker told me to be easy on Dad. That he didn’t know how to cope after being married to mom for twenty years and quickly losing her within six months of her diagnosis.

It’s hard.

I miss when he used to take me to the movies or when we’d go watch the races at the track and drink on the patio around the fire.

Now, it’s just me. Sometimes, Acker too, but mostly me by myself.

Jonas Almas—my dad—is still young. Forty-four, tall, still works out religiously, a healthy eater when he’s not on the bottle, and barely graying at his temples. He’s a catch. Mom dying aged him internally, though. It destroyed us both but took an essential part of him that I haven’t since seen.

He and Mom met in college. According to Mom. They were a whirlwind. There were parties, angst, and sex. She pretended she didn’t love him, and he chased her. Very quickly, they had me. They got married soon after and were hopelessly obsessed with one another. I’ve never seen someone love like them, and when cancer ripped her away from us, I never saw my dad smile like he once had.

Rounding the kitchen, I’m hoping for a distraction before facing him. After my last night with my journalism team, I promised Dad I’d come here for the celebration—not expecting him to throw a party for it.

When my eyes hit two people near the fridge, I inwardly groan. Acker leans against the counter, a brunette in his arms, nestled between his spread legs. His mouth is on her neck. She’s cuddled against him… too close.

A surge of heat and annoyance hits me. Heat, because a part of me recognizes how he towers over her, knowing the powerfulness of his hugs. The annoyance stems from the longwinded crush I’ve carted for years.

Jealousy.

It’s such an aching awareness, trapped between the clogging air we share.

He doesn’t notice me at first. His hands grip the random woman, forcing her neck up to his mouth. A shudder runs through me as I imagine her being me. The way his warmth would spread and engulf me, devour my every sense, and consume my every thought. When she whimpers, his eyes peer up, spotting me with heated cheeks and a frown.

The woman he holds freezes. Her frame is stiff before she turns to me and smiles kindly. “Oh my god, I am sorry!”

“It’s fine,” I concede, trying to be nice when I want to rip her hair out all at once. But instead, I let out a breath. My reaction seems irrational, being angry over the fact that she’s touching someone who isn’t mine and never will be.

“You must be Carter,” she continues, reaching out her hand. Acker lets her hips go, but I just curtly nod. Then, shaking her head with a bit of embarrassment, she places her hand at her side. “I’m Gina.”

I stare at her extended hand and ignore the narrowing of Acker’s eyes. Then, finally, I suck in an angered breath and respond.

“Nice to meet you.” I relent, not meaning a single word.

No, it’s not nice to meet you.

No, I don’t want to see Acker kissing you.

No, you’re not welcome here.

I say none of that.

Once he lets go, Acker approaches me without his magnetized woman. She seems nice, but all that fills me is hatred. She could be the best person in the world, and I would not give a single fuck.

His lips brush against my ears as he leans in. “Better for you to stay away and bottle up that jealousy, Bitty.”

“I’d rather hate her. It’s easier,” I growl venomously.

Before his rebuttal comes out, Dad comes into the kitchen with a bright smile.

“Where’s Tomas?” My dad interrupts the cascading emotions overwhelming me. His eyes scan the room and behind me. I can’t seem to look away from Acker’s eyes, the attention there. He raises an eyebrow as if also waiting for the infamous last words. How the hell do I tell them Tomas cheated on me? And that I was so embarrassed the only person who knew was Lori.

Acker isn’t like guys my age; his eyes don’t leave mine. When I talk, it’s direct, he listens, and he’s passionate about everything I talk about.

You see, Acker is why I picked a career in journalism. He owns Spice, the biggest celebrity gossip magazine out there. I’ve always admired him and the work his team does. They’ve been under fire since the last case they covered, but somehow, they made it back and are more popular than ever.

This is why I’m going to mention I don’t have a job in hopes something comes to fruition. It’s my dream to work with him and his team. Dad ushers me into the dining room, where the family awaits my arrival.

The table is set. Rosalia and Toliver, my cousins, are here with their spouses. Patrick, Parker, and Jarett, my dad’s oldest friends, have joined us as well, with their respective partners. Acker’s flavor-of-the-day—Gina—sits on his right.

Dad sits on my left and Acker on my right, the close proximity making my knee bump his every time it taps with nerves. It’s exhausting, being in the room with so many while my mood is still sour.

“Going to mention why your boy toy isn’t here?” Acker pushes as dinner is served. The staff hands us all our plates as if we’re at some type of banquet. Of course, they know I’m a vegetarian, so they always make my meal a lot different from the rest.

The fact that they respect my beliefs enough to use different cutlery and different dishes, in general, is something I can never appreciate enough.

Gripping my fork, I ignore him and his amused smirk, digging into my food. Unfortunately, Dad doesn’t recognize my unease and digs a bit deeper.

“Yes, where is this musician you’ve spoken so highly of?”

I peer at him, mouth full, trying not to show my hurt or discomfort. He waits as I chew slowly, making the time go slower and slower. Finally, swallowing with dread, I close my eyes.

“We ended it.”

I don’t want to drone on about how he cheated and I was made a fool. Sympathy isn’t a thing I like, and being the daddy’s girl I’ve always been, Dad will just baby me. He cares too much, and he doesn’t need more stress.

He sets his fork and knife down, his steak partially cut and disgustingly rare. I close my eyes and avert my head. “What did he do?” But, of course, his sweet daughter could never be why someone left.

“Nothing,” I say nonchalantly, shrugging, wanting this conversation over. Dad doesn’t take the bait, sitting up straighter.

“Do I need to contact the board of directors?” he growls, his voice low. When I said Dad was protective. I wasn’t lying. The thing is, I can handle myself and some loser who used me.

“Dad, no.” My exhale is audible, and Acker stares at me with interest. “We didn’t work out, and I’m okay with it.”

I’m not okay. Not that I loved Tomas or anything, but it hurt knowing he slept with others while pretending to care about me.

Cheating didn’t exactly show devout love or anything.

Rule one about rock stars: don’t date them while they’re touring.

“I’ll kill him,” Dad responds, but I place a hand on his arm.

“What’s more important is that I graduated and am looking for work, boys are a distraction, and I need a job.”

Dad lets out a shaky exhale, his anger barely abated. His eyes narrow and then widen. Then, shifting, he cups Acker’s shoulder. “Dres can hire you,” Dad called Acker Dres. I didn’t prefer it, and when I was younger, I could only say Acky.

It stuck.

Acker’s face almost pales. Is the thought of being around me that bad? I raise an eyebrow wondering why he acts as if I were a burden. He never seemed to care before.

He shakes his head before responding. “I actually don’t need any help—” he begins, his excuse not feeling realistic. Spice could always use an extra and vivacious person.

“What?” Dad asks, exasperation in his tone as he turns more toward Acker. I’m hidden from view. The hushed whispers tell me nothing, but I try to hear anyway.

“You start Monday,” Acker gruffs a moment later, trying to hide his discomfort. Did I miss something? Acker and I’ve always gotten along well. We fit. Our music tastes, movies, and even hobbies are a match.

“Great,” I murmur, the excitement only halfway there. This could change my life. However, it doesn’t seem like Acker feels the same.

“But, Bitty, if for a second you don’t follow my rules and be on your best behavior, you’re gone,” he explains, using his thumb to show the symbol for it. Did he think me some child? I may only be twenty-four, but I’ve experienced a lot in life.

“Understood, sir,” I taunt, watching heat flicker in his eyes.

Got him right where I want him.

CHAPTER THREE

ACKER

THIS COULDN’T BE HAPPENING. Hire my best friend’s daughter, allow her around me for hours upon hours? No. Absolutely not. She’ll unravel me, bait me, unnerve me.

I can’t deal with this.

She graduated last week. I was there. I always make sure to support Bitty. She’s a good kid, someone who can reach for the stars and become the best of the best.

Just not with me.

Fisting my hair, I tug, needing something to calm me. Carter starts in thirty minutes. I didn’t have a ton for her to do. I’m full of reporters, editors, assistants, and proofers, and the staff is vast.

Jonas is my best friend and reminded me how he saved my ass, and I couldn’t say no.

My stomach felt like a pin cushion, readying for the next needle, pressing, needing more than I could offer.

Before I’ve had the chance to breathe and truly accept that Carter Almas would be working as my right hand for a while, there’s a soft knock at my door.

“Come in,” I announce, thinking it’s Zander from reception.

It’s not.

It’s her.

She’s dressed impeccably like a sweet flower, readying to be defiled and crushed by the world. She’s beautiful. With dark hair, dark eyes, and lips that haunt my every thought, I’m undone.

It’s wrong.

Unnerving as it is, my eyes scan her in appreciation. I knew this day was coming. Not the fact that she’s in my office or that her eyes watch my every movement, but graduation dinner.

I knew she’d ask me for a job. That’s what that chick was doing in my arms. I needed that moment, the hurt on Carter’s face, the buffer of a wall. She needs to hate me so I can’t ruin her.

She stands here now, her defiance and determination etched across her face. I feel a tightness in my pants and hate myself all over again.

This is unreal.

“I’m early,” she chirps, her smile lighting up the room. Freckles dance across her nose and cheeks, a few on her lips, and I find myself lost in their star-like quality, a constellation of beauty to unravel and discover.

“Too early,” I gripe. Carter needs to know I’m the one with the power. Not her. “Next time, be on time. Not before, not after.”

She rolls her eyes, her sass apparent.

Bitty is frilly dresses, pretty makeup, soft curves, sharp words, sexy smirks, and unnerving sass.

She’s stunning and feminine, in love with every color in her wardrobe, and isn’t scared to show the world that. Since she was young, she has always loved dresses and skirts, anything that made her look like a pretty princess.

I’ve always appreciated her ability to love herself and all she is. She doesn’t question her style or way of life; it’s unique.

“Don’t be grumpy, Acker. I’m just excited to be here outside of visiting,” she teases, tracing her fingers across the furniture’s upholstery.

I don’t want you here; I want to say but don’t. Carter being here will threaten everything I’ve worked for. The shift should’ve never happened. The one where she grew up and stopped being my best friend’s daughter and became a woman I noticed.

Being a man and seeing her as a woman is gross, especially when I watched her grow. She needs stability and a man who isn’t tied to her life.

I’m no hero, not in her story.

I’m the villain who’ll defile her and make her forget ever fluttering her eyes at me.

“Sit,” I offer, unable to get up without wondering if I’ll be too stiff. She’s smiling when she sits, one leg crossed over the next, waiting for me. My eyes caress her skin, scanning every dip and curve.

“Can you believe I’m a journalist?” Excitement fills her face, and it’s the sweetest thing.

“Not yet,” I tease, trying to fall into the typical banter between us. But whether Carter sees it or not, it changed.

Two years ago.

Did she forget in her drunken stupor?

Because I sure as fuck couldn’t erase that entire memory from my mind. No drink could dissolve it, and no matter how often I told myself that it didn’t happen, I knew. My dick sure as hell did too.

I was stone cold sober that night. Tired, sure, but no alcohol in my system.

“So, I know you have several junior editors, reporters, and many more, but you didn’t say what I’d be doing.”

“Research,” I answer immediately, knowing that her being my research assistant wouldn’t turn out well for either of us. She’ll destroy me before the end of this job.

“Oooh,” she lets out, her eyes lighting up. “For who?”

“Me,” I answered, my voice a little too low for comfort. If she thought I’d let Cameron or Holden have her as an assistant when she’s just broken off a year-long relationship, not a chance.

I refuse to admit or address what that could possibly mean for me.

“What are you working on?” she asks, not waiting a moment to get gossip. Instead, her eyebrows are high, expectant. Since I can remember, Carter has been into gossip magazines. She’s followed all the drama sites on every social app. She knows just about every type of rumor and conspiracy theory.

“I’m actually working on a piece about Reaver,” I whisper, not wanting anyone to hear. Sure, it’s not new that people wonder who he’s dating. But I want to be the first to tell the world. Or anything really, he’s a vault.

“Oh my lanta,” she gasps, placing a hand over her chest. “Anthem Riot’s lead vocalist?” I nod, wondering if she listens to them.

They are metalcore, something I couldn’t imagine Bitty listening to. She’s so soft and perky. Pop seems more her jam.

“Don’t look at me like that, Acker,” she chastises, and I smile, feeling my dimple appear. She knows me too well. Far too fucking well.

“Not sure what you mean.”

Her cheeks darken a few shades, and I swear to all that’s fucking godly, my body heats at it. I can’t help it. Of course, I’ll never act on it again, but fuck, if I don’t want to.

“You’re looking at me like I listen to classical music and pop,” she groans, rolling her eyes. A smile escapes her pouty lips, though. “I’m into classic rock, screamo, metalcore, and even some heavy metal.”

I laugh, unable to contain it with the exasperation on her face. Then, again, she rolls her eyes, and I love how it makes her seem even more adorable.

Fuck.

“Yeah, can’t see it.”

“Then you’re lame. Ice Nine Kills and Pierce the Veil are my favorites, alongside Anthem Riot. I’ll even mosh, okay?”

A full-on chuckle comes out of me, and I can’t remember the last time I laughed this much. She blushes again, her embarrassment evident, but she’s so goddamn charming.

“Fine, I’ll believe you. I want you to go to The Underground and see who Reaver’s around and with.” I begin, and she’s whipping out a notepad, writing it down.

“I’m so ready for this!” she exclaims like she just won the lottery. “Reaver is kinda hot.” The way she adds that and bites her lip gives me pause, and I loathe the way it heats me up. Possessiveness as clamoring as people at night searching for a plug hits me.

“Business,” I rasp, anger coating my words. “Absolutely no flirting.”

She stops smiling, raising an eyebrow. “I’ll do what’s necessary to get answers.”

“That’s not how we work at Spice,” I lie boldly, knowing that’s not the case.

She snorts, a mocking sneer on her face. “So, you’re telling me the tabloids lied about you fucking Tera Conquest?”

“How—” I began, and she cut me off, setting down her notebook. She leans forward, her eyes piercing my own.

“I’m a journalist, Acker. I know what it takes, and I know you fucked her because I’m that good at what I do.”

The breath is taken from me as I realize she knows dirty secrets she shouldn’t. This isn’t a game. It’s dangerous having secrets about people. Especially ones with money or those in power.

“Be careful who you speak to like that, Bitty,” I warn, slicing each word like glass.

Standing, I crowd in her space. “Rule one, never tell someone what you have on them until you have the information you want. Leverage is meant to hold for usage, not freely given to be cocky.”

She gnaws her bottom lip, and I wonder why I’m so attuned to the movement. “I wouldn’t use anything to hurt you,” she quickly explains.

“You just tried to use it for a foot in, and you made your point. But what if this was someone with power? You could easily be killed,” I let out, thinking of her in trouble. My skin itches to reach out and grasp her jaw, cradle it in a way that forces her to listen. To truly hear me and the gravity of her situation.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Acker. No one wants to kill me yet.”

Yet. Does she expect to become a liability to herself?

CHAPTER FOUR

CARTER

WALKING INTO THE UNDERGROUND, my heart races. Adrenaline courses through me as the music vibrates my skin. The pace of the tempo and the flashing lights are not what I’d expected. To be fair, I expected to be greeted with an empty venue. It’s a freaking Wednesday, not the weekend. Anthem Riot isn’t even on the list for tonight because it’s a secret show.

Or so Acker explained.

The atmosphere seems so welcoming. People chat, drink, and dance without inhibitions. It’s like being here is freeing. It’s not my everyday scene. I’m more likely to convince my fashion blogger friends for tickets to galas and balls.

There are far more opportunities for gossip there.

After staring openly at everyone and everything, my steps are halted by a bouncer. “Someone in the VIP area is requesting you,” he explains, his gruff voice loud and steady. “Follow me.”

He turns without waiting for my response, heading toward a stairway with a roped-off area. In TV, this is normal. In real life? It feels fake.

Who wants to see me anyway?

Loud voices echo around me as I ascend the staircase. There are no words exchanged as the bouncer leads me to a room. It’s bigger than expected, with a floor-to-ceiling window area with a view of the entire club.

Warmth hits me as I realize it has to be someone famous inviting me here—that or someone with power. I’m dressed very sensually tonight in comparison to my regular sweet attire.

When I’m undercover, researching, and scoping out a story, I constantly alter my appearance so I can blend in and be more accepted. Yet, for some reason, women dressed extremely feminine is frowned upon and seen as childish in show biz.

“Here’s our stop,” the bouncer announces before leaving me by my lonesome. No one’s in here. I’m all by myself.

Who invited me?

Sweat lines my palms, making my skin prickle. Ignoring red flags is how Tomas cheated on me so quickly. So now, I’m walking past many and hoping not to be hurt. I’m trying not to be too suspicious, but I’ve just been invited into a secret room without a person.

Taking a deep breath, I attempt to calm my nerves. The window beckons me, bringing me to the overhang above the club.

I can see so much here. Dancing bodies, kissing couples, and the girls above, in cages, losing all inhibitions.

“Wow,” I let out, never having been here before. The Underground is a very inclusive club. Queer folk and like-minded people all felt safe here. That’s probably why Anthem Riot found comfort here. There’s something unique about being included in a place where no fear and judgment have to exist.

No more than the typical overly touching patrons with alcohol consumption.

“Beautiful isn’t it?” a voice—deep and gravelly announces. I’m stock-still, wanting to show no movement other than breathing. They say prey that stands still for too long lose their chance of escape.

My focus is on acting casual and safe.

It’s where I’m most confident.

“It is,” I let out, not taking any time to respond.

“What’s a pretty person like you doing here all by yourself?” he asks, and somehow, I know he’s nearing me, closing the distance. He has the advantage with me turned away.

“Someone invited me up here. I’m guessing it’s you?”

Before he can reach me, I’m turning to face him. Soon realizing, I’m facing Reaver himself. I take in a breath, wondering how this is possible. Then, attempting not to choke on my own saliva, I exhale shakily.

“I—I,” I stammer over introducing myself. Dammit. Acker shouldn’t have given me an assignment to a band I’m obsessed with.

Swallowing down my nerves, I feel parched. Dryness makes my palm sweat worsen. “Reaver,” he introduces, not reaching out to shake my hand. I’ve heard of his affliction to touch. Spending too much time on Reddit threads was the loss of my productivity in grad school.

“Chloe,” I lie, letting it slip easily. It’s close enough to my name to feel natural. I need to not be a fangirl when on the job. To be this close to answers is the coolest thing ever. I’ve never actually done anything this risky and brazen at any point in my life.

Unless my mother’s wake was an option…

“You remind me of someone I know,” he lets out, standing near me. His eyes scan the crowd outside. “Someone important?”

“The most important, actually. They like to pretend to be someone they’re not when being sneaky.”

“Sneaky?”

“Yes.”

Not the answer I’m searching for but close enough to make a guess. I’ll have to continue this digging session. Whether it’s somehow becoming important to this man or finding a way to follow close.

“Have fun, Chloe,” he states, emphasizing my name like I’m a terrible liar. “There’s a backstage pass on the coffee table. You’ll be able to meet the others.”

“That’s assuming a lot,” I muse aloud, thinking of how cocky this man sounds. He smirks, his eyes glittering with mischief.

“I’m never wrong.” He turns and heads toward where we both appeared from. “Enjoy the show, Chloe. Tell Dresdon I send my regards.”

A pit hits my stomach immediately, knowing that this man knows Acker somehow. Without another word, he leaves me wordless and breathless. Was this a plant? Did Acker want me to fail, or does Reaver know he’s being watched?

CHAPTER FIVE

ACKER

WHEN REAVER LEAVES the room I’ve been watching for the last ten minutes, the rage goes from a simmer inside me to an erupting volcano.

He stops at the bottom of the stairs, smirking as if he knows I was watching him from my hidden corner.

Did she fuck him? I know she meant what she said earlier about doing what it takes. I’ve been watching Anthem Riot for eighteen months, trying to get any type of info on them before their Kerosene Kisses tour starts.

They’re elusive. Always able to hide and sneak around. It’s unfortunate for me, but I’m not one to easily back down. I’ve got the skills, the leads, and connections, and until tonight, I’ve never felt shaken.

Carter is here, up in that room surrounded by drunk lecherous rock stars and their groupies. Anger pushes me through the crowd of tangled bodies up the stairs. I didn’t plan to use her as bait, but she’s a fucking gorgeous woman. I knew they’d at least have some interest.

She’s not mine. She’ll never be mine, but knowing he could’ve touched her and I left her alone…it doesn’t sit right.

Jonas would kill me if something happened to her while working for me, especially since I sent her out alone.

Sucking in my anger and burying it deep down, I sneak past the bouncer and head up. This place isn’t exactly a maze, but there are several doors. Tugging the handle on the first one, it barely moves. Locked.

Furthering my distance, I go for the next, and the knob turns. Opening it, Carter stands in front of the windows against the entire west wall.

“Back for more?” she teases, and I growl, walking up to her. I don’t think twice; I don’t even allow myself a modicum of restraint.

Grabbing her wrist, I twist her around to me, and humor shines in her beautiful eyes. My chest hammers with nerves. Need and the desire to rip her apart with my cock rise, overwhelming me and taking away all sense.

It happened only two years ago, but fuck, if it hasn’t lived in my head on repeat since. My chest aches as her eyes descend on my mouth, and the restraint I’ve kept under lock and key snaps.

I snake my hand up to her throat, holding her hostage in my grasp, and I take what I’ve been begging to take since she fucked with my mind two years ago.

Carter moans beneath my lips. Her sounds make me ache in an entirely new way. She molds to me, her mouth pressing softly against mine. I’ve fucked plenty of women, none of which I’ve had actual feelings for.

She’s different, though. She’s a fucking wet dream, and it’s disgusting that I’m touching her this way, kissing her as if she’s mine. Her tongue tentatively touches my bottom lip, seeking refuge and exploration.

I give her access, needing to know what she tastes like, desperate to see if she allowed Reaver to touch what has always been mine.

My sweet girl.

My Little Bit.

I caress her jaw as our tongues meet, sensual, slow, each swipe meeting in a new way than before. Finally, she whimpers when my other hand cups her ass, forcing our mouths apart.

I should be strong, stop us, and tell her it was a mistake.

But I can’t.

Little Bit has had a claim on me for too long, and as she pushes against me, reaching for my pants, I feel myself fold.

A grunt escapes me as she cups my cock. It’s painfully hard, needing her, desperate to be touched. Forcing myself backward, I don’t allow myself to take more.

This is wrong.

Jonas would kill me.

Jonas.

He’s been my best friend since birth. Our parents were best friends and raised us as such. Every venture in life, we experienced together.

But fuck, if his daughter doesn’t mean more to me than existing.

“We can’t,” I rasp, my body on fire and in need of a cold fucking shower.

“We can,” she argues, pushing against me once more. “I’ve wanted this—”

“No,” I groan, removing her hands from my hips. Fuck, this is so wrong, and I can’t seem to pull it together. “You’re my best friend’s daughter, for fuck’s sake.”

She rolls her eyes, stepping toward me as I step back. “Dad doesn’t have to know.”

“He’d know.” I’d never be able to hold a secret like this. It was hard enough hiding the fact that we fooled around after Lulu’s funeral. If Jonas weren’t grieving so badly, he’d have noticed. How I avoid her, circumvent dinners unless he’s present, refuse to take her to events and festivals. It’s very apparent how big of a part I’ve stepped away from.

She snuck in by accident.

It still feels wrong, even if I wasn’t aware she was drunk.

“He doesn’t know what happened,” she pokes, and that’s it, isn’t it? She remembers.

“That night was wrong,” I admit, feeling the ache in my chest. That was a weak moment, a time when we were both distracted and hurting. A time when I might have been half asleep, but I let her continue to do what she did.

“Don’t lie, Acker. You enjoyed every moment.”

I shake my head, knowing she’s right, but refusing to admit what part I played in this entire thing. “We were drunk.” A lie. I may have been half asleep but not drunk whatsoever.

She smirks now. “I wasn’t, not really.”

My eyes met hers then, the emotions clogging my throat, having me gasp for air.

I think back to that night and what I could’ve done to change it. No matter what conclusion I come to, it’s never one that I’ll accept.

I wanted her, even then, and somehow, I allowed that sparse part of me to take over.

“Just once, please,” she begs as if seeing my mind stop. Her fingers trace my bottom lip, touching. “Then you can pretend it didn’t happen just like last time.” Fuck.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” I rasp, lifting her hips and carrying her to the window. Setting her on the window sill, I lower to my knees. Our eyes meet as I stare up at her, admiring the way her body opens for me. Then, sliding her panties to the side, I lower my mouth to her cunt and take what I’ve been craving since that night.

With one swipe of my tongue, I’m a goner. I lick her slit, the wetness maddening. Sweet and slick, I lick her.

A loud moan escapes her when I wrap my lips around her clit. “Fuck, Acker,” she hisses, her voice husky and unnerved.

“Open,” I command, bringing my two fingers to her mouth. She licks around them slowly, surely baiting me. Pulling them back, I use them to sink inside her. Then, swirling my tongue around her clit, she cries out, her legs shaking.

One taste won’t be enough for me. Her cunt tastes like it’s always meant to be mine.

“More, please,” she whimpers, her fingers tugging on my hair. I love her like this, desperate, wet, begging.

“What do you want, Bitty? Use your words.”

She peers down at me, her eyes warm and dilated. “You, Acker. I want you.”

“Be more specific,” I growl, sliding my fingers deep, curving them on that spongy flesh. Carter’s eyes flutter as she moans, clenching around me.

“Your cock, inside me. Fuck me.” Her words are laced with heat, and I know what I’m about to do is something neither of us can come back from. I’m not sure how I’ll face her dad, knowing what her cunt tastes and feels like around me.

I stand, harder than I’ve ever been in my life. I’m about to defile my best friend’s baby girl, and fuck, if I hope she doesn’t regret it later.

“Did you plan on letting Reaver fuck you?”

Her eyes blink twice, slowly, like she’s trying to remember her own name. Pulling my fingers out, I suck them into my mouth and groan at her taste. “Did you want him to fuck you here, right against this window where everyone could see?” She licks her bottom lip and smirks at me.

“Maybe,” she muses.

“Were you going to beg him to take you like your cunt is begging me right now, Bitty?”

“And if I was?” she taunts, lifting the hem of her dress, exposing her wet pussy for anyone to see.

I can’t handle the rage and jealousy that fills me, forcing me to unbutton my slacks. My cock springs free, and then I lift her, needing to escape inside her.

Sliding my cock up and down her pussy, I hiss at how it pulses against her. Then, rocking her hips up and down, I press my head against hers.

“Are you on the pill?” I ask, wanting to slam inside her.

She whimpers and nods. “I want you, bare.”

That’s all I needed. My cock slides down once more before I thrust home.

The initial contact has my balls throbbing. “Shit,” I grunt. “Your cunt is dripping for me.” Finally, our eyes connect, and she tugs on my bottom lip.

“Fuck me,” she whimpers, dragging her teeth against my shoulder. I pull out, slamming into her once more. “Yes, just like that!”

I fuck into her like it’s my last time because it has to be, filling her and taking her screams with my mouth.

Her body hits the glass over and over, and a part of me hopes that fucker, Reaver, sees me inside her, bare, knowing he’ll never touch her.

She’s the first one I’ve ever fucked without a condom, and if I had one, I don’t know if I would’ve wanted to use it.

“Tell me you won’t fuck that guy,” I growl, biting her neck, sucking, and leaving marks as I continue to lose myself inside her body.

“Only if you tell me you won’t fuck another woman.”

“This is our only time,” I rasp, hating the words. “After we leave this club, we have to forget, act as if this never happened.”

“No,” she refuses, sucking on my throat. She nips and pulls back, moving up and down my length. “You can’t pretend this didn’t happen. Your cock is inside me. Your cum leaking down my thighs. You are mine, Acker. After this, we can’t pretend.”

“Your father–”

“Hush,” she silences me with her mouth, flicking her tongue against mine. “This cock is mine now. No one else’s.”

My heart hammers with her demanding tone. Fuck, I want her so badly, but my mind sticks to her dad, the fact that I helped him raise her.

“This is wrong, Little Bit.”

She settles her legs down angrily, forcing me out of her. “You’re telling me you don’t want me?”

I shake my head immediately, my cock still rock hard as she adjusts her dress. “Of course I fucking want you. I’ve never wanted anyone more.”

“Then what’s your problem?” Sadness paints her features.

“You’re practically family!” I yell, feeling my face redden with anger and shame.

“Yeah, and you probably watch best friend’s daughter porn, thinking of me, yet you won’t give me more than a quick fuck in a club?”

“That’s all we have,” I say. Carter folders her arms against her chest.

“Then I’m not interested.” Then, with disappointment on her face, she walks right past me.

Shit, shit, shit.

CHAPTER SIX

CARTER

FOR THE LAST two weeks since the club, I’ve pretended Acker doesn’t exist. I go to work. I update him on what I’ve found by writing my reports. Nothing more, nothing less.

Dad has been asking me to come over for dinner, but I’ve been avoiding him. It’s bad enough his best friend was inside me, and he couldn’t own up to what happened two years ago or that he wants me.

Don’t get me wrong, it hurts.

Grabbing my coffee, I head toward the meeting room. The team–me, included now–waits for Acker, and I’m lucky to arrive before him.

They all sit around the table, chatting, smiling. A couple of them have laptops. And like me, others have a pad and paper.

Holden waves me over, his flirting smirk one I’ve gotten used to. He’s a fuckboy, through and through. He doesn’t know I want our boss and doesn’t need to.

“Hey, newbie,” he teases, touching my wrist. People don’t seem to have a sense of boundaries, but I let it slide, knowing if it goes too far, I’ll stab him with my pen.

“Holden, hey,” I respond, sitting down. Crossing my legs, I sit up straighter, hoping my assignment is to sneak into tonight’s concert.

Anthem Riot has a concert going on tonight, and I’ve been invited. Something tells me that Reaver is trying to mess with Acker. Why else would he invite me other than to rile the old man up?

Ten minutes pass, so I pull out my phone, checking if he’d texted. Nothing. Pulling up the usual socials, I search up Anthem Riot.

“What are you looking at?” Holden asks, leaning over my shoulder, far too close for comfort. His breath smells of mint, so at least it isn’t rank. I let out a huff, moving my phone to his view.

“Seeing if they post anything, any little tidbit that gives anything away.” He shakes his head, grabbing my wrist to pull the phone closer.

“Nah, they have a social media manager,” he explains. “Nothing that’s written is them.”

I grunt in frustration, wondering why I didn’t immediately think of that. Obviously, they’d have a manager for socials. I’ve heard they party too much to be allowed to have access to socials of this magnitude.

“Shit,” I pout, wanting to smack my own forehead. Instead, Holden leans into my shoulder, bumping it.

“It’s no big deal, newbie. But I’ll give you a tip, Reaver’s best friend Carson posts secret shit on them often. His username is @carspathey.”

“Thank you.” I turn, our faces too close. I offer a smile, meaning it, but the door’s closing forces my view to rotate.

Entering the room is the man who steals my every thought, the one who inspires all my late-night masturbating times.

Fuck, he looks good.

Dark eyes, sharp jaw, a tick in it, and fuck those lips I could ride all night long. Since we messed around, he hasn’t done his hair. It always looks messed up, unkempt, like he runs his hands through it repeatedly like I want to.

Right now, it’s in disarray, and his eyes are narrowed in anger. “My office, now.” He directs this at me but everyone stalls, wondering who he said it to.

I’ve known him too long to argue, so I stand and follow him out. We get to his office quickly, anger making his strides swift and brutal.

The door opens, and as soon as I enter, he shuts it and locks it. Then, closing his blinds, he turns to me.

“Why the fuck was he touching you?”

“Really?” I bite out, placing my hands on my hips. Acker ignores me for the better half of two weeks, and suddenly…he now has jealousy issues?

“Yeah, really. You both were fucking close to kissing!” His voice rises, and I hate that he’s so unhinged over this. If he’d just ask, I’d be his.

He storms me, pressing me against his desk. His nose traces my throat where he left several hickeys weeks ago.

“You smell like fucking peonies and grapefruit, Bitty.” Then, taking a nip at my throat, I moan in response, allowing him to take out his anger. Even while I want to smack him for his lack of decision-making skills.

“We need to go back,” I interrupt his exploration of my throat. He pulls back, raising his hand around it. He presses on the side, tilting my neck.

“It’s a shame they’re gone,” he rasps. “Then that fuck would leave you alone.”

“He’s just looking for a quick fuck,” I admit. “I could easily–” he stops me with his mouth, taking my words away, erasing them from my brain.

He holds me as his tongue punishes mine. Our bodies are melded together, not even a breath between us. His thigh rests between mine, pressing against my pussy in a purposeful manner.

Pulling back, his eyes are molten, his lips swollen and red from my lipstick. “Open your legs,” he demands, and I shake my head.

“You can’t pick and choose when you want me, Acker. It’s either forever or not at all.”

He closes his eyes slowly, then opens them, locking on my own. “Forever, it is,” he rasps, his eyes scanning over my shocked face.

He doesn’t even have to press hard for my legs to separate. There’s nothing I want more. “They’re going to wonder what’s happening. Why we’re taking so long,” I moan as his fingers dig into my plush thighs.

His eyes meet mine, hunger there, possessiveness too. “Let them fucking talk. It’s their job anyhow.”

He tugs on my lace panties, ripping them off me. I’ve always wondered if that could really happen. Now, I’ve got my answer.

“On your elbows, Little Bit. Show me your pretty cunt.”

I widen my thighs, leaning back and exposing myself to him. Licking his lips, he leans forward and licks my slit like it’s his only meal for the day.

His mouth locks onto my clit, and I moan. Covering my mouth, embarrassment fills me. We’re only three doors down, not far enough for sound not to be heard.

“Give me your noises, Carter. Don’t fucking hold back on their account.”

“I–I can’t,” I whimper as he nips at my swollen flesh.

“I want to hear you as you cum, and you better make a mess on my desk.” At his words, I groan, and he continues his ministrations. Ultimately, when his fingers slide inside me, curling, I lose all sense of my brain and let out a loud whimper.

He doesn’t stop, continuing his movements in unison. When I start gripping him, I peer down at his face between my thighs, and our eyes meet.

“Come for me, Little Bit. My cock needs that wetness,” Acker rasps, sucking my clit back into his mouth. I fall apart as he thrusts his fingers inside me and licks slowly and deliberately.

“Acker!” I call out, and he doesn’t stop until my thighs shake.

He rises, taking no time to undo his pants. Before I can muster words, he’s lifting my thighs and thrusting into me.

It’s so perfect and whole and a much better angle than at the club. This isn’t as rushed, but it’s as angry. Maybe one day it won’t be this way. Maybe we’ll fuck for the sake of it and not because he’s fueled by anger.

His cock pulses inside of me, forcing me to face him. “That’s right, look at me while I take what’s mine.”

“Yours,” I confirm. His movements are brutal and fast, a chase and a dare all in one. Our eyes are locked, filled with many questions.

What do we tell dad?

Is this only good because it’s forbidden?

Will you stay?

My heart races as he leans forward, cupping my jaw. “I’m not going anywhere, Carter. We’ll figure our shit out,” he promises, kissing my jaw.

“Together,” I cry out as we crest simultaneously. Acker grunts as he fills me, and his lips descend on mine when he finishes.

“We have time,” he admits, and now, hopefully, that fuck will know he’s not welcome to have you.

Smacking his chest, I wonder where life will take us from here. His rough hand cups my jaw, turning it toward him.

“We’ll tell your dad together. I’m yours.”

The words I wanted so badly to hear from him leave his lips, and I can’t help the emotion that fills my eyes. He’s mine. For real this time.

“We should probably cancel the meeting,” I muse, and he shakes his head vehemently.

“No, they can think what they want. One thing’s for certain, they won’t doubt who you are to me.”

“Everyone loves a little nepotism,” I joke, knowing it’s my least favorite comparison to women being strong, independent, and hardworking. No matter how far I go, succeeding beyond what they expect, they’ll always say it’s because we’re together.

“They can deal,” he grunts, helping me up. His release leaks down my thighs, and I wonder how awkward this next step will be.

CHAPTER SEVEN

CARTER

Two Years Later

AFTER ANOTHER YEAR of hassling Carson and the entire Anthem Riot family, I come to find out all the juicy details.

Madden is dating his step-aunt, Carrig. Stony and Carson have something going on, and Memphis is still silent.

Cars told me that he’s seeing someone, though in secret. I’ve become a part of their crew. Someone that they leak stories to in advance to control the narrative. It’s lucky too. When people came out and said his relationship with his aunt was incestuous, I went on the defense and filled the papers with their real love story.

They still haven’t told me the scoop on Windowless Skies and what happened to Donnie. That’s something I’ll have to learn more about in the future.

“Carter!” Acker hollers from the other room. A few months ago, we truly started dating. Sure, it was backward. But, having slept together after pining over each other for years, we finally got it right.

I walked out onto the private balcony at our shared condo. It has a hot tub and a pool. Acker lays on the reclining chair and sits up to see me.

I’m in a barely-there bikini, if you could call it that. His eyes slowly drag down my body, and when our gazes meet, he smirks.

“You look good enough to eat,” he growls, standing. His shorts are tented now, and his eyes are devouring me with every step in my direction.

“Guess you should eat then,” I tease. “Wouldn’t want to starve you.”

He grabs my wrist, dragging me inside. Laying down on our futon, he taps his face. “Sit. Your throne is ready for sitting.”

I laugh at that, and he pouts. “I polished it just for your cunt, princess. Now distract my mouth and fill me up.”

Climbing up his body slowly, I kiss his hips, the sexy Adonis belt showing, all the way to his nipples. Nipping at them, I rise and box in his head with my thighs.

“If I suffocate you, I’ll cry.”

“At least I’ll die with a full stomach,” he rasps and brings my hips down, his mouth doing wonders to my clit.

He enters, spearing into me like he’s trying to fuck me. My hips begin moving of their own volition. Back and forth, I move on his face, using his tongue to get me off. His hands dig into my thighs, and he smacks my ass repeatedly.

The orgasm builds inside me, rising, and I’m screaming his name while riding out my high. Finally, when I’m basically jelly, he flips us over, kissing me immediately.

“My favorite meal, princess.” He nips at my lips and then pulls down his board shorts. His cock juts out, ready to fill me. “Now flip the fuck over and give me that ass.”

I roll over and arch for him. His hand immediately makes contact with my left cheek, a hard smack sounding out as I moan. Then, after a few hits, he enters me in one swift motion.

“You always clench around me so good when I spank you,” he grunts, fucking me with heat and love. I push back into him. His thumb presses against my asshole as he pistons his hips against me. “Such a perfect ass. I’m going to fuck this soon. Lick it until you’re a mess of tears and begging, then I’ll make you come until you cry. Then, you’ll beg me for my cock in you.”

“Please,” I whimper, loving the sound of it.

A loud small on my ass startles me. “Not yet. Need to prep you for a while. Then I’ll take you.”

I nod as he pounds into me. Deliberate thrusts, hitting deeper and deeper with each movement. His hand wraps around my hip and reaches for my clit, rubbing circles over it.

“Now come for me, Little Bit. Let me hear you fall apart.”

So, I do, and when he comes, he makes sure to shove all his release back inside me. He promised me he’d give me a baby when I was ready.

I’m finally ready.

About the Author

C.L. Matthews is queer Latine USA Today Bestselling Author and lives in lala-landia with her partner and invisible friends. She wants to riot the lack of authentic Mexican food in her state, but she’s an introvert at heart. She enjoys tacos, Red Bull, and warm water, because she’s crazy. She’s an oddball, and realizes it’s been mentioned before, just go with it. Her joys in life consist of writing unconventional romances, making book covers, causing havoc to her reader’s hearts, and genre hopping when she needs a change of scenery. She’s a special kind of weird and enjoys every moment of it.

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THE GIRL BEHIND THE RED DOOR

THE EPILOGUE AFTER THE EPILOGUE

CASSIE GRAHAM

For the broken.

You’re worthy of feeling whole.

PART ONE

CHARLIE

KNOCK. Knock.

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and attempted to memorize every second of this moment. I wanted to remember just how perfect my dress fit. I wanted to remember how the birds chirped outside the window and how even though I had everything I could possibly want in this life, I kept getting rewarded every single day.

I assessed my appearance in the mirror in front of me, my makeup was the most beautiful balance of mysterious and natural. My red lips made my blue eyes pop in a way that nearly took my breath away. I didn’t look like me, but in a strange way, I did. This Charlie was always there, waiting to be set free. I hadn’t felt this beautiful – ever.

It took nearly two years to get here. My wedding. Our wedding. With the most beautiful people at the most wonderful place.

Home Sweet Windsor Bed and Breakfast.

Reed had taken over the family business nearly nine months ago, and it felt like a second home now. We loved it and spent most of our time there, but we still exclusively lived in Weasley in our little house with the red door so I could be close to my shop, Better Than Revenge, which was still thriving, thankfully. Reed’s parents, on the other hand, retired very begrudgingly after Reed graduated college, purchasing an acre of land just outside the city with the most beautiful little farmhouse with a barn and enough room for all the chickens they could save. Farm life suited them.

Home Sweet Windsor was the perfect place for our wedding. There was no other choice than to marry the love of my life here. We had made far too many memories at this bed and breakfast to get married anywhere else.

Knock. Knock.

Oh, I had completely forgotten someone was at the door.

I smiled at my reflection, taking a mental picture, as I said, “Come in.”

Blake popped her head in, the overwhelming feeling of déjà vu cascading over me. How had it been nearly three years since we were in this same predicament? Wedding dress. Flowers. A venue full of guests. Same bride.

Different groom.

Reed Windsor. God, I loved him so much. I didn’t know it was physically possible to love someone the way I loved him.

“I have something for you,” Blake said, opening the door to my bridal suite wide, showcasing the most perfect little girl sitting on her hip.

Bright, red curls and the clearest seafoam eyes, I couldn’t help but jump from my seat the moment I saw her.

“Baby girl,” I cooed, reaching for her, the tightness of my dress constricting me a bit. “You’re up from your nap?”

“Yep,” Blake said, handing my sweet daughter over to me. “Auntie Blake thought she had another ten minutes but turns out, Noah had different plans.”

Noah brightened at the sight of me, her hazy regard dissipating. “Mama, mama, mama. Pretty,” she muttered, playing with the fabric of my dress with her tiny, little hands. She was the cutest flower girl there ever was, outfitted in an evergreen dress made just for her.

I giggled, nudging Noah’s neck with my nose, breathing in her familiar baby scent. She always smelled so good. Like, newness and Reed. I wanted to bottle it up and spray it all over myself. Reed had told me once that wanting to smell like a baby was weird, but he obviously didn’t know what he was talking about. Who wouldn’t want to smell like new human and the love of your life?

Addictive.

Perfect.

Equal parts sweet and clean.

“I also have this for you,” Blake said, pulling something out of the top of her dress. The white envelope had my name elegantly scrolled across it, and I felt my breath hitch, my insides involuntarily constricting in a way that made me nauseous, my equilibrium tilting slightly.

If I hadn’t had one hand gripping Noah, I’m pretty sure I would’ve stumbled back, my past slamming into me like a freight train of anguish. Vague images of my first wedding – nearly three years ago – began playing like a bad movie in my mind.

I hated that movie – it was the worst – bound to have the lowest rating on Rotten Tomatoes. A negative score, even.

I could feel that infuriating sting in the back of my eyes, my bottom lip quivering.

“Don’t,” Blake said sharply, snapping me out of my haze like any good best friend would, “don’t do that. This is Reed we’re talking about. He’s not snack pickle sized Brandon.” I couldn’t help but laugh at Blake’s description of my ex. “Open the letter, fall deeper in love with Reed, quit being dramatic, and marry the hell out of the love of your life.” She made her way to me, taking Noah out of my arms.

Noah, never reluctant to be with her Auntie, smiled at me and then at Blake as she rested her head on Blake’s shoulder.

“I’m going to give you some space,” Blake told me, her intent clear in her eyes. “But I’ll be back in thirty minutes to get you for pictures. You better not cry and mess up your makeup. I didn’t pay an actual shit-ton for an amazing artist to make you look drop dead gorgeous, just for you to ruin it after a couple of sweet words from your adorable, yet annoying wordsmith of a fiancé. Keep it together, Oded. You’re getting married in t-minus sixty minutes.”

Noah laughed at her aunt’s expression and tone, softly touching her face, causing Blake’s expression to soften.

I saluted my best friend, and then waved at my daughter, watching as they left me alone.

Hiring and paying for our favorite makeup artist was Blake’s wedding present to me and the moment she told me who it was, I cried.

I wouldn’t cry again. At least, not for that reason and not for the Brandon reason, either.

I cry too much, I annoy myself.

Even though Brandon and I made amends, mostly my fist smashing into his nose – felt great, by the way – I didn’t want this day to be about my heartbreak prior to Reed.

I had moved on.

I had happily moved on.

Today was about Reed. It was about me and Reed and the unconventional love we had somehow found in the halls of Hesher University.

I took a deep breath, my shaky hands calming as my fingers touched the delicate paper that I recognized from Reed’s secret stash he kept hidden away in his office desk. The soft click of the door behind Blake and Noah told me I was alone, so I sat down in front of the vanity once more. I took a long look at myself and slid my finger under the flap. I never knew the exact beautiful words Reed would grace me with, but I was certain of two things.

He was forever.

My forever.

And Blake was absolutely right, Reed was a wordsmith. I had no doubt his words would become a core memory.

Pulling the letter from the envelope, I used a light touch, careful not to smudge or ruin anything Reed had prepared. Folded in half, I couldn’t keep the smile from my lips, the mere sight of his handwriting sending my stomach aflutter.

Dearest love,

You’re stunning. I’m so lucky.

I scoffed to myself. He hadn’t even seen me yet.

Yes, I do know you look downright exquisite. That’s simply who you are. Hush, that’s not the point of this note. Take a deep breath, Love.

I did as he said, breathing in deep through my nose and releasing all the air and tension out of my mouth.

Good girl.

My body shivered. His praise with his British accent had become a kink, and I could hear his velvety voice in my mind.

I’m sure you’re probably – definitely – having a fit, wondering if this is going to be a repeat of your first wedding.

How did he know absolutely everything about the inner workings of my mind? It was rude and sweet and all things wonderful.

He had it wrong, I was the lucky one.

We’re going to erase that day, my beautiful bride. That dreadful day, so many years ago, it will be as if it never happened. Those moments, the terrible ones you lived through, we’re going to make those go away forever. We’re rewriting a very sad and complicated chapter together, scribbling out the nonsense, revising bad storylines, and correcting the grammar. This will be a final edit to the most beautiful book ever created.

Tears began to form on the lids of my eyes, and I pulled my gaze away from the letter, looking up to the ceiling, willing the damn drops to stay put. Thankfully for me, because Blake would lose her actual shit, they listened.

Those horrendous moments, though, my darling Love, they got us here. They brought us to this perfect day. Soon, you’re going to get up, dry your eyes (because, yes, I know you’re a sentence away from opening the floodgates) and you’re going to walk down the aisle to see me standing there, waiting for you. I promise my eyes will see only you. I promise I’ll always wait for you. I promise my heart is only yours. I promise today is the beginning of our forever.

My bottom lip quivered, and I was slowly losing the battle with my tears.

Charlie Oded, today, you’ll become Charlie Windsor. That has a beautiful ring to it, huh? I’m so fucking excited. And even though you might think today will be the happiest of your life, I guarantee there will be even better days in our future.

His words spoke to every broken piece of my soul, repairing it with every swoop of his handwriting.

It was hell getting here, wasn’t it, Love? We had many bumps in our road, so many tears, a lot of sadness, but during all that, we somehow managed to have even more laughter. We really worked to get here.

I raised my eyebrows in agreement. By no means has the last two and a half years been easy, but it has been worth it. All of it. It was worth everything.

Sometimes we must hurt to know true happiness. This is the moment. This is THE moment.

Tell me something real, Love.

My breath hitched in my chest as I read the last line.

Turn around, Charlie.

My shoulders shook with anticipation, and I turned around, my eyes falling to Reed standing in the door. He was dressed in a deep green suit, perfectly matching our dark, imaginative theme. His gold cufflinks glinted in the lights above us as he adjusted his navy tie. All of it perfectly matched my ivory gown with intricate flowers and patterns. It was elegant and whimsical, an actual story on fabric. Light pink roses for Reed, the national flower of Britain, small, white pinecones for Maine, our home state. There were scatters of apple blossoms for their meaning. Peace and harmony. Completely different patterns that all somehow worked together.

Material printed in Britain, sewn in Maine. It was the seamless combination of Reed and me – of who we are. Dream gown achievement: unlocked, without a doubt.

“Reed,” I said, breathless. “Hi.”

“You enjoy my letter, Love?” he asked in a confident, yet timid tone – Reed was the epitome of balance.

I licked my lips. “Very much so.”

His radiant smile stretched across his face, his red hair ruffled in a way that made him look like a movie star. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his pants. “I was right, you know?”

Still five feet from him, he assessed me with hungry eyes. Something dark flashed behind his gaze, his radiant smile replaced by something ravenous.

My favorite expression.

My body clenched in anticipation. “About what?”

One step forward. “Something incredibly important.”

“Mmhmm?”

Three more big steps and a sharp inhale. “You’re fucking beautiful, Charlie. Absolutely glowing.” His accent was thick as he reached for me, taking my hands to twirl me in a circle so he could get the full effect of my look. He touched my naked shoulders, the tips of his fingers tracing down to the soft fabric of my dress. His eyes followed the path of his hands, animated and excited as he explored every inch of my exposed skin. He brought me in close, my arms immediately clutching his shoulders. When he looked at me like this, I genuinely thought I might float away.

“Perfect,” he growled.

I quirked an eyebrow, loving just how easy it was to unravel him. Electricity crackled between us, and that ever-present need to be with him gnawed at my insides. I nearly pawed at his body in response. He looked so handsome. I had seen him in his suit before – we picked it out together – but something about him in it on the actual day of our wedding made him look even more charming – deadly. I badly wanted to take that suit off him.

Counterproductive? Of course, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t help myself from going to that place – the place where my mind stopped working and my heart and, more importantly, my libido took over. It happened a lot more lately. Reed had opened my eyes to every sexual fantasy I could imagine. Although, he was a virgin when we got together, he had somehow taught me more about my body and desire and feeling sexy than anyone had before. I wasn’t sure if I was ever going to tire of him. I didn’t want to. I wanted to feel this way forever.

“Charlie, your eyes look downright ravenous right now. Is there something you’d like to do?” he teased with a sexy tone, as his grip skirted down to my hips.

My hands were already on the button of his pants, moving out of his grasp, making quick work of his button and zipper.

Reed cleared his throat as he watched me. “What are you doing?”

I ignored him, unable to quiet my want. “You’re not supposed to be here, Reed. You’re not supposed to see me before we take pictures.”

He groaned, throwing his head back. “Traditions aren’t really our thing, are they?” he said with a smirk, looking back down at me as his pants hit the ground with a satisfying thud.

I shook my head, the image of his erect dick sending shivers all over my body. I wanted it in my mouth, I wanted to taste it, but we didn’t have the time. “We have twenty minutes before Blake comes back.” I lifted my body on the vanity as gracefully as I could. “Fuck me, Reed.”

Stepping between my legs, he just barely placed himself in between my center. I shuddered in response, forcing myself not to move forward, shoving him into me. He had a look of control in his eyes. Confident and sure. I didn’t want to take anything from him.

Reed met my lips, holding my face fiercely with his grip. He was careful not to ruin my hair, but I knew my makeup was going to be a mess. I didn’t care. Everyone could wait.

His tongue met mine, and I couldn’t stop from moaning in appreciation. “

“That’s my girl,” he whispered wickedly in my mouth between hot kisses. “Always so talkative.”

I smiled against him.

His hand glided from my face, down my shoulders, lightly making his way down the bodice of my dress to the skirt. His hand seductively traveled up my thigh to cup my ass.

“Reed,” I said, my voice husky as he slid into me, filling me so wholly that my mind went blank.

Reed’s eyes fell closed for a moment as he stilled, simply waiting as I adjusted to him. When he opened his foggy expression, he slowly pulled back, allowing my body to feel every inch of him – every throbbing vein. I spread wider as he pushed forward, his hands cupping my butt to bring me closer to him.

I braced my hand against the edge of the vanity, his thrusts coming harder with every passing second, the waves of pleasure hitting us like a rough thunderstorm in the middle of summer. Roars of thunder rolled in my mind, brilliant lightning striking behind my eyelids, Reed’s blue eyes darkening to the color of the angry ocean. His intense gaze moved from my eyes to where we were connected for a moment, a dangerous smile pulling at his mouth as he moved in and out of me.

I loved when he did that, heat pooling in my belly. Something about the way he smiled as he observed us made me feel like I had won a prize no one else could even compete for – our own game.

With my free hand, I moved up his arm to the back of his neck, guiding his mouth to mine. Mint and sweet and heat, he tasted of pleasure and excitement. The inebriating combination plus the feel of him inside me nearly pushed me over the edge.

“Fuck, Charlie,” Reed growled as he pulled away from my mouth, his hand moving from my ass to the crook of the back of my knee. He lifted my leg, taking the last bit of space he could muster, pushing and pulling with a harsher severity, the smooth fluidity of his movements intoxicating me – my mind fuzzy.

I threw my head back, forcing myself to not outwardly moan. There were people in the room next to us, my bridal party getting ready, but I was so close, and the pulse of Reed told me he was close, too.

I scooted to the edge of the vanity, wrapping my legs around Reed’s waist and that was all it took. Reed’s hips rotated, our desire exploding as my body slammed into his with jarring desire.

“Charlie,” his voice cut through our headiness, stars bursting behind my eyes as he thrust in and out.

His movements were rough, every crash rattling my head with growing lust. I wanted him slower, I wanted us to take our time, but that wasn’t an option. Almost without my consent, I began to constrict around him. Gritting my teeth, I rode our rolling wave as long as I could.

“That’s it, Love. Come with me.”

Biting my lip, my body fell off the cliff, grabbing onto Reed at the last second, plummeting headfirst to the ground. I didn’t want a parachute this time, no. In fact, I wanted the exhilaration of the collapse. Everything about this moment with him meant I’d never actually hit the bottom – I’d soar forever.

Reed’s passion filled me with a warm embrace, and I clung to him, kissing, and nipping at his neck as he met his end.

Shaking and giddy and maybe a little sweaty, I pulled back to take a good, long look at him.

“What is it?” he asked, a ruddy color on his cheeks.

I shook my head, biting my lip as I assessed him more. He’d for sure need to go see the hairstylist again and by the looks of his lips, I’d definitely need the makeup artist to fix my face. “We’re going to get in so much trouble.”

Reed laughed, catching his breath, his blue eyes clear of the storm. “Worth it.” He leaned down and kissed my lips once more, his teeth catching my bottom lip. Then he groaned and pushed into me again, creating the most delicious friction.

I leaned against the mirror, my limbs soft, but my want for him waking up for the second time.

Hissing through his teeth, Reed quickly pulled out and grabbed at his face, his hand dragging from his forehead to his chin. “No,” he said, more to himself than to me. “You sorceress. No.”

Oh, okay, maybe he was talking to me. I giggled at his complex expression, forehead wrinkled, hair sticking out in different directions, and I reached forward to kiss him.

With a contented sigh, he got himself together as I quickly went to the bathroom to clean up. Once I was done, I gave myself a good once-over in the mirror and accepted my fate.

Blake was going to shit an actual brick.

“Hey,” Reed said as he poked his head around the door. “I need to get back. Ham is probably wondering where I am. I told him I had to go to the loo. I’m sure he’s figured out I escaped to see you.”

“Amateur,” I said under my breath. Ham promised to keep a close eye on Reed for me to make sure he didn’t become overwhelmed by everything. Not that I was complaining, I was grateful he had lost sight of my soon-to-be-husband.

Reed nodded, standing behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “I’ll see you out there.”

“Try to seem surprised at our ‘first look’,” I told him, now sort of dreading my upcoming pictures – I wasn’t a good actor. Everyone was going to know what we just did. “We still have pictures to take.”

He glanced down at his watch. “Shite.” He kissed my neck and bolted out of my room, but not before shouting, “I love you!” before the door closed behind him.

I shook my head at my reflection as I fixed a few stray hairs sticking out of my elegant bun.

Just as I bent forward to get a better look at my makeup mess, my eyes went wide at what I saw behind me.

Both Blake and Amelia stood with their arms crossed over their chests, their eyebrows raised into their foreheads.

“Charlie Oded-almost-Windsor!” Blake shouted while Amelia reached over my shoulder to give me a fist bump. “You just had sex!”

My jaw fell open and as I tried to clear my sex-ridden, shocked mind to explain, Blake simply laughed.

Amelia joined in as she said, “Well done, Charlie. You scoundrel.”

I could feel the blush falling into my cheeks. Red, hot embarrassment was clearly evident on my face, the makeup no longer there to camouflage it.

Blake, with her phone in her hand, feverishly texted, and with one last click, she slid her phone into the front of her dress and placed her hands on my shoulders. “Okay, put your panties – clean ones – back on.” My mouth fell open for a second time. “Mikayla will be here in two minutes to,” she stopped to point at my face in the mirror, “fix you. You look a mess.” I scowled but she didn’t care. “Look alive! You have the, evidently useless ‘first look’ in ten.”

I gave her an innocent smile as Amelia laughed again.

“Cheater,” Blake grumbled under her breath before she said, “You just couldn’t keep your vagina to yourself. I shouldn’t have left you alone. I only have myself to blame.”

“Damn right,” I said, moving past Amelia, who was sitting on the couch, to make myself comfortable in front of the vanity. Flashes of my time with Reed played in my mind, a satisfied smile pulling at my mouth.

“Quit thinking about it, you perv!” Blake said, standing behind me, fixing my hair, her eyes meeting mine in the reflection before understanding registered. She covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh my god, you totally had sex on the makeup vanity.” She cautiously stepped back, her eyes skirting around the room. “Nowhere is safe. Can I sit on this chair?” She pointed to the beautiful vintage reading chair in the corner that Reed and I picked up at a second-hand market a few months ago.

I laughed, nodding. “You’re safe.”

Blake sighed and fell into the chair, my sexcapade clearly stressing her out. I mean, I understood, I did just possibly set us back some time by having to fix my untidy face.

“You’re lucky I love you, Oded,” Blake said. She was quiet for a moment before she whispered to me with a maniacal grin, “Was it amazing?”

Amelia immediately plugged her ears, shaking her head. “La, la, la, I know I was happy you got some pre-wedding fornication, your stressed-out ass needed it.” She stopped to give me a pointed look.

Okay, so I was a little anxious before. So much so, I might have needed a shot – or two – of tequila. And when I said “might have,” I mean, I totally did and downed two shots around noon. Come to think of it, that’s probably why I was so intent on having Reed – liquor made me ambitious. My inhibitions were at an all-time low when tequila entered the chat.

“But,” Amelia continued, “I don’t want to know how good it was. That … that crosses some sort of sibling line, I’m sure. I want like, zero part of it.” She fake-gagged. “I’m wholeheartedly tagging myself out of this conversation.”

Even though Amelia had become one of my closest friends, she was, in fact, standing at the alter for Reed. First and foremost, Amelia was Reed’s best friend – as close to a sister as Reed had.

I laughed. “Note taken.”

Blake psst in my direction, covering the side of her face closest to Amelia, whispering even lower, “So?”

“Okay, time for water or a lobotomy! I’ll decide when I get out of this damn room and out of earshot because I seriously might vomit,” Amelia exclaimed with an exaggerated gag as she stood up, moving past us in a flash, passing Mikayla on her way out.

Blake pouted in the corner, but before Mikayla could begin working on my face again, I turned to her and rolled my eyes back in my head, as if to say, oh my god, amazing.

My reaction was enough. An animated smile broke out on Blake’s face, and she fist-pumped the air in celebration.

I couldn’t help but laugh. Sure, Blake wasn’t exactly happy that I had ruined my very expensive makeup, but more than anything, she wanted me to be happy. That unequivocal fact meant everything. Finding a best friend who cared about me in every aspect of my life was by far one of the most wonderful things I could imagine.

I tried my damnedest not to bounce in my seat too much as Mikayla began to work on me, but I couldn’t help myself.

It wasn’t even five minutes before I got a text.

Reed: Tell me something real …

I didn’t hesitate, excitement bubbling in my belly once more.

Me: I’m craving waffles and whipped cream.

I snickered to myself. I mean, it was true, and I was sure he was looking for something super romantic, but it was an honest answer. I’m positive he expected something sassy. Not to mention, waffles sounded delicious. Especially now. Sweets after sweet? Sign. Me. Up.

Reed: Mmm, somehow, I knew you’d have a cheeky answer.

Me: Would you prefer something else? Something a little more … risqué?

Reed: ARE WE ABOUT TO SEXT RIGHT NOW?!

I snorted, trying to hide my phone from Mikayla, who was currently attempting to save my eyeshadow that had smeared into my forehead.

Reed and I didn’t sext often, much to his dismay. As a matter of fact, we haven’t done it in nearly a year – a shame, I know. When you live together, work together, and have a toddler taking up all your free time, there wasn’t much time for sexting, but his response made me want to pat myself on the back for thinking ahead. I was sure my next text to Reed was going to send him into a complete tizzy.

Earlier this morning, before my wedding party got here, I might’ve snapped a picture of myself in my very suggestive lingerie.

Mikayla moved to the bathroom to obtain something, so I quickly pulled up the picture, attached it to the text and sent it. My attempt at holding in my laughter was thwarted by my best friend.

“What are you doing over there, Oded?” she asked, extending her neck to try to see my phone.

I slapped it to my chest, hiding the screen, and Blake gave up, but not before playfully scowling, turning her attention to her own phone.

Reed texted back and I slyly tried to read it, turning my body away from the mirror.

Reed: Tell Blake and the makeup artist, I can’t remember her name! But tell them to leave. Now. We’re about to be even later.

Immediately, he sent another text.

Reed: You dangerous minx.

“Charlie!” Blake scolded over my shoulder, much closer to me now, clearly seeing mine and Reed’s texts. “Tell your fiancé to keep it in his pants! You have five minutes and there isn’t a chance in hell I’m going to let you get it in a second time because you sent him a nude.”

Mikayla, still in the bathroom rooting around for a product, cackled and then tried to rein herself in before sniffing to cover up her laugh.

My forehead scrunched in rebelliousness. “I … I was covered up.” I gulped. “For the most part.”

“Not the point.” Blake snatched my phone from my needy, little hands and shoved it in my purse sitting on the couch across the room. She pointed in my direction, reprimanding me, much like a parent would. “You. Makeup. Now.” She had the decency to look angry before she smiled, winking in my direction.

Like the dutiful best friend, I listened. I clamped my hands in my lap, playing with the soft fabric of my gown as Mikayla made her way back to me, spraying my face with some sort of mist.

As I stared at myself in the mirror, thoughts of Reed and Noah and my family drifted into my mind – they always did in moments of calm.

My parents, of course couldn’t make the wedding, because, and I quote, “We went to your first wedding, honey, and honestly, we were kind of bored.” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at the recollection. I’d be more upset if Reed’s family hadn’t all but adopted me into their loving and warm home. I missed my family, but I’d see them for Christmas when they came into town, and I was sure they’d demand to watch the wedding video.

Was I sad? I didn’t think so. If anything, it gave me less to worry about. Their absence was their wedding gift. Their words, not mine. Knowing my mom, she’d be running around like a crazy person, and Dad, he’d be fixing every flower, plate, and fork out of place. I loved them – really, I did – but they were a lot to handle in high-stress situations.

I had my chosen family with me today.

And that was all I truly needed.

PART TWO

REED

Six Months Later

“YOU CAN PUT that stack of poster board over there,” I said, pointing to the huge round table in our newly purchased building which we lovingly named Welcome, Windsor. We signed papers and closed just five weeks ago, but our plans to take our time and open slowly didn’t exactly go according to plan.

We didn’t get the choice to properly get ready. We had to open when the time arose, and it had risen. Very quickly. Were we prepared? Not totally, but we’d make it work for the community.

I still ran Home Sweet Windsor, and it was no doubt a full-time job, but I had a good staff of people who were certainly able to take over when I wasn’t around.

“Babe,” Charlie said from behind me and for a moment, my breath caught in my throat. She looked gorgeous. In a black and red flannel, with a crop top underneath and slouchy jeans, she was just effortlessly beautiful. In her arms, she held two boxes of food and another box full of office supplies. “The volunteers are here, and they want to know what to do. I told them we needed signs, but I’m sure you have a better grasp on what’s necessary.”

I rushed to her, taking the boxes from her grip, and set them down. “Thank you, Love. That’s good. We need to fill the shelves with food and hygiene products, but signs are the most important right now. The protest starts in a few hours.”

Charlie winked, slinging her long hair over her shoulders. “Got it.” She sighed, looking around the big space, full of boxes, products, food, cleaning supplies and extra bodies that decided to come together to amplify something near and dear to our hearts – the hearts of our country.

Just one month ago, the rights of women had been threatened. Being someone who has tried their hardest to be an advocate for women, I felt it in my heart to step up and do something good with my money.

So, together, with the help of Charlie and my parents, we decided to pool our resources, and open a space for women. All women and children. Battered. Struggling. Those who needed important medical care or those who simply needed a safe place. We had medical staff on-hand down at the local hospital to handle questions and free care. Our goal was to be a support system for women and their dependents in all aspects of life. No questions asked, no judgement.

Turned out, planning, and implementing charity efforts while I was at Uni, at Hesher, had, thankfully, gained me some recognition within the community. Four years in a row, we worked hard to raise funds for the local women’s shelter. Because of our efforts, local stores and brands had even agreed to donate to our cause – every month, even every week, if needed. We had enough products, bedding, clothing, and food to stock our space for more than a year.

I was overwhelmingly grateful.

Not to mention, any food that wasn’t used at the bed and breakfast would be brought here. There were even plans to build a fully functional kitchen and hire a chef to provide and serve hot food every day, three times a day.

We’d get there soon, with the help of the community, I had confidence in that much.

“I can’t believe we’re having to fight for our right to our own bodies.” Charlie shook her head, a slight agitation in her hands as she reached into a box with instant noodles, placing them on the shelves next to microwaves. “It all feels so unfair, so unjust.”

“It is. I’m so sorry. It’s – all of it – is wrong, but,” I stopped, standing behind her, “we’ll fight, my love,” I promised, placing my hands on her shoulders. Things were out of control now, everything felt huge, and it all felt too big to combat, but if I knew anything about women – especially the fierce women of this wonderful town of Weasley, Maine – it was that they were fighters. It boiled my blood, of course, women shouldn’t need to fight like this, but watching women persevere in the presence of malice has always been so admirable. They’re warriors.

I felt helpless in these times. I wasn’t a woman, I didn’t understand their struggles, but I knew one thing was for sure. I’d be there for them, in any way I could. I’d fight like hell alongside my wife, my daughter, and the women of this country. It was the least I could do.

Charlie laid the back of her head on my chest, allowing us a peaceful moment during the turmoil. She was always the quiet in the chaos. “Thank goodness for you,” she whispered, cuddling into me, my arms wrapping around her shoulders. “Noah and I are lucky to have someone love us the way you do.”

Blake came up behind us, setting her head on Charlie’s shoulder, wrapping her right arm around my back and her left arm around the front of Charlie. “Hey lovebirds, I think we’re all lucky to know Reed. Look at what he’s done. Look at what you’ve both done.” She took her arm from around me as Charlie and I looked around the wide-open shop.

There were groups of people assembled all over, each collection working toward a common goal. Some were setting up tables, placing vases of faux flowers in the center. A group in the middle of the room were reading directions, putting chairs and cabinets together. Some hung paintings to make the place look more lived-in and comfortable. Others were unraveling twinkle lights that needed to be put up. There was a group of people coming in through the front door with a couch and side tables. Blake rushed over to sign the delivery slip.

Ham and Amelia were by the front of the shop, filling the wall-length fridge with water, juice, soda, and milk. They whispered and giggled to each other, in their own world. Watching them slowly fall in love brought me immense comfort knowing they had each other in times like these.

Mum and Dad were somewhere in the back, playing with Noah while taking inventory.

Everyone seemed content, happy to be here.

I smiled to myself, proud of what we’d accomplished in such a small amount of time. There was still so much to do, still so much to work toward, but with these people, this town, there wasn’t anything we couldn’t do.

The darkest days brought the brightest sun.

Unrelenting storms make way for the clearest skies.

This moment in time, it wasn’t easy to live. We were stuck in a storm without an umbrella and no shelter in sight, but no matter the outcome, we had hope.

Light and clarity were ahead. I could feel the warmth just out of my grasp.

We’d endure together, hands clasped tight.

We could do this.

We were strong enough.

Our empathy was going to save us.

“Come on, Love,” I said to Charlie, turning my head to kiss the side of her temple. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

She smiled up at me, uncertainty clear, but something else behind them – gratitude.

My anxious energy quieted for a moment, indebted for her love in times like these. I’d look at her forever. Even through the hurricane, she was clear in my view.

“You ready?” I asked.

Charlie nodded. “I’m always ready as long as we’re together …” She cupped my cheek, a look of adoration on her face. “Tell me something real, Reed.”

I closed my eyes, breathing in deep, pushing farther into her hand. “I’ll love you forever.”

Charlie smiled, the promise of our future brilliant in her misty eyes. “Forever.”

THE END

Read Charlie and Reed’s full story on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited here

About the Author

An avid K-pop listener (BTS ARMY, where you at?!), K-drama connoisseur and a reader of all kinds of love, Cassie Graham has been writing stories since she was thirteen years old. With nine books published since 2014, she prefers getting lost in her own love stories. Both the real one she lives with her sweet husband and the fictional ones she writes to feed her soul. A mother to the most wonderful kid in the world, you’ll likely find them fangirling over BTS together or walking the streets of Main Street USA in Disneyland - our second home. Currently studying hard to learn the beautiful language of South Korea - Hangul, she can’t wait to travel the world.

The author of feel-good romances like Maybe Ever After, The Girl Behind the Red Door and Thank You, Next Chapter, she also dabs her big toe in Paranormal Romance with her previously released novels, Enchanting Wilder and Surviving Wilder. She’s on Instagram, TikTok and Facebook.

You can read all her books at Amazon

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BREAKING AND EXITING

CELIA KYLE

CHAPTER ONE

AIDEN GRIPPED the handle as his dad, Ricker, gunned the engine of the SUV, bouncing over a concrete speed bump. Ricker spied an empty parking spot and whipped into the space.

His dad turned in his seat and stared at him and Brody. “All right, you know this place is going to be an absolute madhouse and you might need a translator because these people do not speak English.” Ricker’s gaze flicked between Aiden and Brody. “Above all, retain control.”

Control. The number one requirement for anyone venturing into the human world. Not that he and Brody needed the reminder. Sure, all three of them were tiger shifters and they had to guard their shifter secret, but they were also part of the SSD—Shifter Shadow Division—formed by the shifter council. They trained hard and were the best shifters had to offer.

“All right. In and out in sixty minutes. Tops.” Aiden reiterated their plan to rush.

Brody cocked an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Aren’t you planning to get ice cream?”

Aiden glared at his brother. “Yes, and I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

Brody grumbled. “Aiden, we all know you take forever. You’re always saying we’re going to be in and out in sixty minutes, and then three hours later you’re fussing over which ice cream to order.”

Aiden scoffed. “Ridiculous. I always get Rocky Road.”

Their dad groaned and exited the Hummer, slamming the door.

“That’s what makes it all the more annoying.” Brody reached for his own door. “You’re as bad as Aunt Maya with ice cream.”

Aiden snorted. “You’re exaggerating.” No one was as bad as Aunt Maya.

He followed his brother and dad, exiting the gunmetal gray Hummer, and followed their dad into Westview Plaza Mall in Charlotte, North Carolina.

He jogged and caught up with the other two, falling into step beside his father. “Hey, Dad, why are you buying mom a gift again? It’s not her birthday.”

Ricker turned to Aiden and grinned. “For the upcoming Gaian Moon. I think it’s time we tried for a girl.”

Brody gagged and Aiden’s belly twisted. He didn’t feel like thinking about his parents doing the horizontal mambo. He shook his head to clear it of the awful imagery and stepped inside the mall.

The mall spread out before them and one young white man with locs held up a flashing light phone case. “Yo, check it out, man. You can’t be fly if you don’t have an authentic Korean knock off of the latest Apple LED phone case.”

“See what I mean?” Ricker murmured. “That doesn’t sound like English.”

“The words were English, but they made no sense,” Aiden added.

“Dad, why did you bring us along to shop for something sexy for Mom?” Brody shook his head. “I mean, talk about gross.”

“Be a dutiful son, Brody,” Aiden elbowed his brother. “And remember that the old man can still kick our asses. He’ll fart a lot, but we’ll go down.”

“I can hear you little turds,” Ricker grumbled. “Makes me wish your mother let me eat you when you were young.”

Aiden snorted and patted his dad’s shoulder. “Sure Dad, whatever you say.”

As if their lioness mom, Maddy, would have ever let anything happen to her cubs. After Aunt Maya gave their mom “badass lessons,” the Sensitive lioness was fierce.

They meandered through the mall, looking at nearly every shop. Aiden sincerely hoped his father was not planning on visiting one of the lingerie stores.

Bored with his father’s wandering, Aiden checked out the mall with his beast’s senses. His keen ears picked up snippets of conversation from all around. One man in the food court two levels above spoke to another about how he’d discovered a boil on his foot.

Aiden decided he’d heard enough and focused on his sense of smell. The mall could be overwhelming, so he was careful not to inhale too deeply. His first whiff brought him the last vestiges of cinnamon rolls, and a hint of exotic smells from the store nearby.

They passed the bath and body store and without the competition from the pungent aromas of the shop, his sense of smell exploded into new awareness. He caught something on the air conditioned wind. His human mind couldn’t interpret it on a conscious level, but he caught a flash of something primal as the tiger identified the scent: rabbit… mate!

He shook his head. Rabbit mate? It made no sense. They were in a mall.

“Rabbit mate?” Aiden muttered.

“What’s that? Rabbit meat?” Brody gave him a look. “Oh, you must be smelling the pet store that’s a few levels away.”

“Pet store?” Aiden frowned.

“Yeah, a pet shop. You said rabbit meat, right? You must be hungry.”

“For fuck’s sake, boy,” Ricker grumbled. “You just ate before we left the house, what’s wrong with you?”

“I’m not hungry,” Aiden tried to explain, but Brody talked over him.

“Hey, you know what? Just stick it out a little bit longer, and we’ll take you to the food court, all right? Sheesh, you always have been a total bottomless pit, Aiden.”

Ricker snorted. “He’d eat us out of house and home if the wallpaper were edible. Do you remember when the neighbor brought us a plate of cookies and he ate the entire thing?”

“I did not eat the entire thing,” Aiden protested.

“Close enough,” Brody said.

Aiden couldn’t stand it any longer. He inhaled deeply and felt the same sensations from his inner tiger as before. Rabbit… Mate.

“Aiden, where are you going?” Brody called after him.

“You two go on ahead. I’ll catch up.” Aiden waved at the duo, not even turning around. He was focused on a new mission—he had to follow the scent.

Aiden reached the escalator and stepped onto the metal steps. He rose, testing the air with his nose. The scent grew stronger, but then he got a cross breeze from the HVAC system. Dammit. Now, he could only smell the foul chemicals used at the hair salon. Aiden groaned and rubbed his irritated nose. He tried not to inhale again until he reached the top, but he sneezed halfway up. He doubled over with every sneeze, further spoiling the scent. By the time he got to the top of the escalator and stepped off, Aiden found he could no longer catch the aroma.

Aiden turned in a slow circle, testing the air. Now he found himself on the same level as the food court. The aromas of cooking food ruined any chance he had of picking up the scent again.

He cursed, then remembered what his brother Brody told him. There was a pet shop in the mall. Where else would one expect to find a rabbit?

Aiden looked over and saw one of the mall maps. He stepped over toward it, worried that someone might see him. Everyone knew alpha males didn’t need directions. He edged his way over to the map and peered at the colorful depiction of the mall. He squinted his eyes as he tried to match up the numbers and letters to the names of the shops on the wall. At last, he spotted a square on the fourth floor with the designation Scruff and Fluff: Pets and Companion Animals.

He took the escalator up two more levels and turned toward where he would find the pet shop. As soon as he drew within a hundred feet, his nose picked up the scent again—rabbit… mate!

His heart thundered and he found his legs pumping ever faster as he drove himself toward the pet shop. The smell grew more pervasive, thickening in his brain.

He stopped cold outside the pet shop, Scruff and Fluff, and stared at the two big display windows that flanked the entrance. On one side a bunch of kittens rolled about and frolicked. Normally, he wouldn’t have been able to resist watching the kittens play, because they were astonishingly cute and cousins to his tiger… of a sort. It was a testament to how strongly he felt compelled to seek out the source of the scent that he only had eyes for the other display window. Sitting on top of a pile of straw was a white rabbit with pink eyes.

The rabbit was the source of the intoxicating, compelling scent. It had to be. But what did it mean? He breathed deep, gathering more of those intoxicating aromas.

She’s a shifter. I’m sure of it. Just like I’m sure she’s my mate. But what’s a shifter doing for sale in a pet shop?

Aiden tapped the glass and spoke to the rabbit. “Hey, I’m going to get you out of there.” He sighed as the rabbit’s ears twitched in apparent confusion. “You probably can’t hear me. Well, I’ll get you out of there soon enough.”

Aiden entered the shop and the different aromas hit his nose. His tiger thought they’d walked into a smorgasbord of live prey. It wanted out and to hunt, but because the rabbit-mate was present, Aiden had no trouble maintaining his focus.

He pushed past a couple of slow patrons and bellied up to the register. The man behind the counter gaped as he stared up… and up… at Aiden. Aiden stood well over six and a half feet tall and had more muscles than a pro wrestler thanks to his tiger nature.

“Um, can I help you, sir?”

“Yes, you can.” Aiden pointed toward the entrance. “That white rabbit in the display window?”

“Yeah?”

“I want it. How much do you want for it?” Aiden reached into his back pocket and fetched his wallet.

The man behind the counter held up a hand. “Whoa, slow down, sir. Didn’t you see the sign? The rabbit’s not for sale.”

Aiden stared at him for a long moment, not blinking as only a feline can, then cracked his neck before flexing his muscles. He wasn’t above physical intimidation. “The purpose of a display window is to display merchandise for sale. Right?”

“Oh yes, of course.” The clerk bobbed his head up and down.

“Right. So can we agree that the things displayed in said display window are by default considered to be for sale?”

“Um, sure?” The clerk tilted his head to the side as if confused.

“Therefore, you can sell me the rabbit.”

“Oh no, sir, I’m very sorry but I can’t sell you that rabbit. Would you like a sugar glider instead? They’re adorable.”

“If I’d wanted a sugar glider I’d have asked for a sugar glider. What’s the deal, man? Why won’t you sell me the rabbit? I’ll pay you a thousand dollars. Cash.”

The clerk gaped. “That’s a lot of money, but it’s out of my hands. I can’t make that decision. I don’t actually own the rabbit.”

“Then who does own the rabbit?” Aiden pushed the words through gritted teeth.

“The owners of the shop.” The clerk shrugged. “They’re planning on domesticating and then breeding her.”

Aiden’s eyes snapped open wide. “Breeding?” he whispered, but the clerk heard him.

“Yes, breeding. She’s got beautiful coloring and she could have a whole lot of kits very soon.”

Rage boiled through him. Breed his mate? How dare they even suggest it? His tiger roared deep within his soul and Aiden’s canines extended, nails emerging to curl into wicked claws as his body hair thickened.

“Aiden.” His father slapped a hand on Aiden’s shoulder and dragged him away. The sound of his father’s voice and sudden contact snapped him out of his rage.

“What the hell are you thinking?” Ricker hissed. “You almost shifted in public! And for what, because that pimple-faced punk didn’t want to sell you a rabbit?”

“Ha, pimple-faced punk,” Brody said with a grin. “I like that, Dad. Can you say that five times fast? Pimple-faced punk, pimple-faced—”

“Shut the fuck up, Brody,” Aiden snapped. He turned to face his furious dad. “Look, I had a good reason for being ready to explode.”

Ricker’s eyes narrowed. He pulled Aiden over to a quiet area near a shop still under construction. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Dad, that rabbit, the one the clerk won’t sell me. She’s one of us.”

Ricker’s eyes narrowed as he stared across the wide hall. “If that’s true, then this is an SSD issue. However, there’s only three of us—not a full team—and we need official sanction—”

“Dad, I can’t wait for orders. They’re talking about breeding her.”

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

Aiden took a deep breath and then blurted out the truth. “Dad, she’s my fated mate. I knew the moment I scented her.”

Ricker and Brody gaped in astonishment. They exchanged glances, then looked back to Aiden.

His father spoke first. “Are you sure?”

“I know, Dad. You told me that when I found my fated mate, I would simply know. One sniff, and I would be sure. I’m sure.”

Ricker considered his son, then slowly nodded. “All right, son. I believe you. The rabbit is your mate, and they won’t sell it to you.”

“They won’t sell her, Dad.” Brody grinned. “We have to get her out of there, Dad. Not just for my bro’s sake, but because it’s what we do.”

Ricker sighed. “It is what we do.”

Aiden was a bit taken aback. “So, you’re going to help me bust her out?”

“Yes, I’m going to help you.” His dad nodded.

Aiden spun toward Scruff and Fluff, stalking toward the store with purpose.

Ricker grabbed him by the arm—again—and dragged him back. “Are you fucking stupid? Not right now. We do this the SSD way. At night, when no one is around, and we leave no trace.”

Aiden cocked an eyebrow. “But Dad, there’s only three of us. Not a full SSD team.”

Brody laughed. “Come on, bro. It’s a fucking shopping mall. It’s not like we’re breaking into Fort Knox or the White House or something.”

“Your brother is right.” Ricker agreed. “The three of us can handle this and I’ll deal with any fallout.”

“Not to mention Dad is an ex-Tracker.” Brody gestured at Aiden. “And we’re walking slabs of muscle. We’ll be fine.”

“Don’t get cocky,” Ricker snapped. “If we’re going to do this, we’re doing it by the book. We don’t get overconfident, we don’t make mistakes. We follow procedure, we get the rabbit out, and then we fade into the night.”

Aiden sighed and turned back to look longingly at the rabbit. She had hopped over close to the glass, her nose twitching as she regarded him.

And she was looking at Aiden. It was not the dumb animal stare of a normal rabbit. He could sense her humanity. He could feel her soul, and how scared and frustrated she was.

Aiden swore he would get her out, no matter what. And if he had a chance to maybe punch the guy who threw her in the pet shop in the first place, well…

All the better.

CHAPTER TWO

MIRA RIVERA GLARED at the teen squirting Windex on the display case. The kid was more interested in rushing through the job than worrying about a rabbit’s glare. The mall foot traffic had thinned out to almost nothing, and the big glass double doors down the mall hallway looking out on the parking lot now displayed streetlights against a jet black sky.

The mall would close soon, and the teen wanted to finish his tasks and punch out as quickly as he could. Mira could relate. When she’d been that age, her part time job had seemed tedious.

Reminiscing about her past was about all Mira could do. Exactly how she’d ended up in the pet shop continued to remain a mystery. One moment she’d been in rabbit form in the meadow on her warren’s land, rolling about in golden dandelions and tall, waving blades of green grass. The next thing she knew, she woke in a pile of shredded newspaper with the distorted faces of children staring at her.

Mira would have shifted into human form and escaped days ago, except for one problem—the damn security cameras. Between the cameras watching the mall itself and those inside the pet shop, she was under constant video surveillance.

There was one rule to being a shifter, no matter if you came from a pack, a streak, or a clutch… That rule was simple—never reveal the existence of shifters. Ever.

So, Mira suffered the ignominy of her situation with as much grace she could muster. She drank stale water from a bottle and nibbled on tasteless pellets to maintain her energy. She tried to sleep as much as possible but was seldom tired enough to slumber for long.

Mira heard what the humans working the pet shop said about her. She was going to be domesticated and bred. At some point they would move her, and that would be her chance to shift into human form and escape. One second not under direct observation and she would be gone with the wind.

The human teen finished wiping the glass display case and Mira relaxed as the lights switched off in the mall proper while the workers complained about their closing chores.

The workers exited out the front of the pet shop and last out was the manager. He fussed with the security gate until it came down across the front door and windows.

She hopped about her enclosure, periodically stopping to stare at the security camera unsure how much longer she could take the confinement.

They have to have a security center or something where all of the surveillance footage goes. That means I can find it and destroy it.

It wasn’t a great plan and she was this side of too cautious to try. Yet. Mira knew that eventually her frustration and despair would override good sense and she’d break out.

But not tonight. Maybe they’ll move me out of here in the morning.

She gathered up the newspaper into a pile. Then she lay on top and sighed, her eyes drifting closed. Mira focused on the fact she would escape someday. Mira drifted off to sleep, dreaming of sun-drenched meadows and beautiful daffodils, of shaded glens and babbling brooks perfect for curious little rabbits.

Something stirred in the small hours. Her long white ears pricked up and she rose to her haunches, nose testing the air. A noise teased her ears, a hushed scratching like a snake’s belly sliding across grass.

She lifted her gaze toward the ceiling. It sounded as if something were moving. Immediately her mind conjured an image of a secret agent sliding through the ventilation ducts. It couldn’t be that, though. For one thing, the ventilation duct over a pet shop was bound to be rife with animal dander. Anyone attempting to go through the ducts would have a reaction—

“Achoo!” The sliding stopped, and a whispered voice followed the sneeze. “Shit.”

The sliding continued, accompanied by the occasional sniffle. Mira considered the other disadvantages of using the air ducts. Like the fact that the ones in the mall were wide, sturdy, and stable. The duct work inside of the pet shop was probably much shoddier. Whoever crawled through it banged and slammed, metallic echoes passing all through the pet shop, waking the other animals.

She heard a loud curse—a male’s voice—and an echoing crack. A moment later a huge black shape dropped through the tray ceiling, destroying the fragile panels. He landed on a display of flea repellent spray, sending the cans shooting out in all directions. The groaning man lay there for a moment, and then leaped to his feet with catlike agility. He was at her display case in a flash.

As he worked to open it, the security alarm sounded. She folded her ears against the bleating screech, repeated every other second like some endless serenade. The man reached into the case, clearly targeting Mira.

Now she got a strong wave of his scent. Her eyes widened, and a shiver traveled through her furry body. Primal impulses shot through her mind with a ringing certainty—mate!

This male was her mate. He’d told her he was going to come back for her. She’d not thought much of it, but she hadn’t scented him then. A rabbit’s nose was nowhere near as keen as other shifter’s.

She heard him just fine through the opened door now. “Come on, let me get you out of there.”

She hopped closer and he scooped her up. She couldn’t see his face, as he wore black head to toe, but his scent was enough for her.

The man carefully tucked her in his arm and held her to his side. She hung on, using her claws to cling to the black fabric. The man stepped carefully over the spilled cans of flea repellent as he headed for the back of the shop.

“God damn it, Brody. You said the fucking ceiling was going to hold until I could reach the manager’s office and kill the security.” He stopped and peered down an aisle, then continued on. “Now I have to find an alternate exit.” He glanced over his shoulder at the narrow entrance to the shop. “No way they take their deliveries through the front. There’s got to be another door.”

He bulldozed his way through a thin but locked door and they found themselves in an employee break area. Her mate carried her though the break room to the next area. Here it looked like some sort of stock room with bare drywall, concrete floors, and unadorned wooden merchandise racks. He carried her through the darkened stock room. For a moment he peeked his head in through an open doorway. It appeared to be the manager’s office. A laptop sat folded up on a battered wooden desk.

Mira had no idea who her mate was but knew two things for a fact—he was an alpha through and through and a predator. She breathed in his scent… or tried anyway. She was a little thwarted by his clothing.

She wondered what kind of shifter he was. Based on his size, he had to be a bear or something. He didn’t strike her as a bear, though. She couldn’t put her paw on it, but he had something other than big bear energy.

He took her to the rear of the store, where a big metal door blocked their path. It didn’t have a conventional doorknob or handle. Instead, it had a big, red paddle in the shape of a stop sign. It read Emergency Exit Only. Alarm will sound.

Of course, the alarm was already sounding. Her mate shoved the paddle hard and the door swung open. A different, localized screech emanated from the door itself.

They found themselves in a bare hallway, with more unadorned drywall and plain concrete floors. Now they were faced with a confusing maze of hallways. Most of the doors lacked any designation at all other than a number, though some did have a store logo emblazoned on them in a small panel.

“Shit. I’m going to kill you, Brody. Which way is the street? Fuck!”

He pivoted for several seconds, as if trying to decide which way to run. The sound of footsteps at the end of the hallway heralded the arrival of the security guards. Her mate turned and bolted in the opposite direction.

Well, I guess that settles that. Damn it, there’s security cameras back here, too. Is there anywhere I can shift back to human?

“Hey, you, stop!” one of the guards shouted.

Her mate skidded around a sharp corner, ran for a dozen more feet, then was faced with a three way junction.

Mira wished she could help, but she was just as confused. They’d taken so many twists and turns she doubted she could even find her way back to the pet shop. This labyrinth of hallways was a hidden world of danger just below the surface of the mall.

He eventually went to his right and continued to run, but they soon came to a dead end, and he cursed.

“Fuck me. Brody, I’m going to kick your ass when I get out of this.” He paused for a moment, and then glanced at her. “Um, listen, sorry about all the cussing. I’m just worried. I won’t let them put you back in that cage, okay? I promise I’ll take care of you.”

Then he was off and running. Mira felt her heart melt a little bit. It was nice he’d taken a moment to reassure her.

Only she worried that may have been a moment they couldn’t afford. He returned to the three way junction and found two paths blocked off by security guards. He went down the only way he could, the doors of different shops flashing past.

At last, he pushed his way through a set of swinging double doors and they found themselves in a vast warehouse filled with pallets. He raced through the stacks of goods and high shelves and took shelter behind a forklift.

The security guards entered the room, and shone their flashlights around in a cursory manner, but didn’t stay long. One of them shouted something out in the hallway and the rest of them tore off running.

Aiden rose and crossed the darkened warehouse, pulling open a door to reveal a server hub.

“This should take care of the security cameras.” He unplugged one of the servers and the lights went dim. She noticed the red lights over the cameras had blinked off.

He placed Mira on top of a waist-high crate and took a step back.

“All right, just stay in rabbit form for a moment. I’m going to get us out of here, but we’re going to have to use a… creative way of escape.”

He pulled off his mask, and she saw the handsome face she’d remembered from the other side of the glass. His eyes were intense, but softened with affection when he spoke to her. “It’s going to be all right.”

He pulled his shirt off next, revealing a thickly muscled torso. Mira was astonished by his broad shoulders, chiseled-in-stone chest, and the elegant taper of his waist. He kept going, doffing his pants next.

She felt a stirring of excitement when he took off his black boxers. He had the total package in more ways than one.

He glanced at the doors where the security guards had vanished and took a deep breath. “Here goes nothing.”

His nose elongated, teeth growing larger and sharper as fur sprouted from his skin. His form flowed like water as he changed from two legged man to four footed tiger. Her mate’s powerful haunches flexed as he padded over to the crate where she stood.

He put his paws up on the crate. Mira wondered what he was up to.

Does he expect me to like, what, jump onto his back? I don’t see a rabbit sized saddle.

Her mate nuzzled her a bit with his nose.

As long as he’s not going to try and carry me out of here in his mou—

Her mate opened his mouth and—very gently—clamped his jaws around her white furry body. She squealed as he lifted her from the crate and turned his big head toward the double doors.

He took great care not to hurt her as he carried her across the darkened warehouse. Only there was nothing he could do about his saliva and her fur soon grew wet.

I’m inside a tiger’s mouth. Where no self-respecting rabbit ever wants to be. I know he doesn’t have a choice, but… yuck! Totally gross!

Her rescuer brushed his shoulder into the double doors and pushed them open, then carried her out into the maze of hallways once more. Well, she doubted the security guards were going to want to mess with a tiger.

CHAPTER THREE

AIDEN PADDED THROUGH THE CORRIDORS, silent as a shadow in spite of his tiger’s great bulk. He was careful not to dislodge his mate from his mouth or squeeze too hard with his jaws.

In his ear, the techno-magic comms crackled. “Aiden, it’s Ricker. Brody thinks he’s got the bugs worked out. What’s your status?”

The techno-magic comms would have allowed Aiden to respond with words… if he wasn’t a tiger and didn’t have a mouth full of rabbit.

As it was, he had to rely on his shifter abilities and his connection to his father. He concentrated on his dad and sent an image of his current status. No words needed to be spoken for his father to pick up on the essentials.

“Brody,” Ricker said over the comms, “Aiden has the client.” Even though this wasn’t an official SSD mission, Ricker insisted on playing it by the book. “He’s being pursued by multiple soft hostiles.”

Soft hostiles was a misnomer. It meant that the security guards were enemies to be treated with kid gloves.

Aiden growled deep in his throat. His father now had him thinking in mission detail terms, too. At least it would help Aiden keep his wits about him as he sought an escape.

He’d decided to name this place the Corridors of Doom. Aiden had no idea this hidden city within a city existed inside the mall. The only real way to navigate it was experience. Or a map. Neither of which he had. Perfect.

Fortunately, now that Aiden had shifted into his tiger body, he had a pretty big advantage on his pursuers—his feline senses. Aiden could hear the footsteps of security guards searching for him several corridors away. He caught sight of their shadowed forms at a greater distance with his tiger’s keen eyes.

His sense of smell exploded into new awareness. Myriad scents reached out to him and triggered the primal areas of his brain. It was hard to focus on anything other than his mate’s scent, especially with her being in his mouth.

Aiden pushed past it and focused on the other aromas. The floor was the most confusing, so he let its array of odors meld into background noise while he focused on the doors leading into shops.

When he lifted his nose toward the handles, he got a whiff of those who used them most frequently. He found one scent heavily laced with cigarette smoke.

The logic was simple. A cigarette smoker wouldn’t be able to do so inside the mall. That meant they had access to an outdoor area to indulge in their habit. If he followed the cigarette smoker’s trail, Aiden was sure to find a way out of the mall. He followed the scent down a long hallway, then turned a corner and spotted an open doorway at the end. He caught a glimpse of metal stairs, and a whiff of fresh air.

A stairway—one that opened up to the outside. He moved down the corridor, keeping his posture low. His nostrils tested the air and he suppressed a growl.

He smelled a security guard, two of them in fact.

Aiden crept up to the edge of the stairwell on his belly, getting his first look at the men. They were both on the portly side, with scraggly neck beards and an entirely too casual attitude for people who were responsible for public safety.

“Yeah, this is the only way out other than the north end, and that’s guarded by three guys. Why do you think this guy’s trying to rob a pet shop?”

“How the fuck should I know? It’s not our job to figure out the motivation for his crime. It’s our job to take him down.”

Aiden groaned inwardly. Those rank amateurs were the only thing between himself and freedom. The fact he couldn’t get past them was frustrating.

He concentrated on his dad and sent another thought picture sequence.

“I read you loud and clear. Brody, you know what to do. Go and give your brother a distraction so he can reach Checkpoint B.”

“I’m on it Dad. They’re going to be chasing two tigers in a minute.”

Aiden hung back in the hallway and waited for his brother to arrive. In short order, Brody’s tiger form padded near and they locked gazes for a moment as Brody went past.

Then Brody’s roar shook the building. The two security guards screamed and he heard them racing down the hallway. Aiden shrank back further into the shadows. The guards ran right past Aiden in their mad flight from Brody.

Brody trotted along behind them, not even trying to keep up. Judging from the way his brother’s tail stuck up like a flagpole, Brody enjoyed himself.

Aiden waited for Brody to pass and then took the corridor in the opposite direction. He rounded the corner and entered the concrete stairwell. The tang of fresh air hit his nostrils. Aiden moved up to the heavy steel door—no alarm, just a push bar this time.

He put his paw on the push bar and his weight did the rest. The door swung out and he slipped outside into a courtyard tucked right in the middle of the mall. It was a small green space and connecting hub for several parts of the mall. It was also a short distance from Checkpoint B.

Aiden surveyed the landscape in the small area. A scrap of moonlight slashed through the elm’s branches, creating a pool of radiance near a door that read “Stamford and Sons.”

Aiden made for the door, stepping into the moonbeam. The rubber mat in front of the door was more than it seemed. It weighed Aiden and took his biometrics, then transmitted the command to open the door.

He slipped inside, glad his father had been able to hack the store’s security. From there he padded through a bulk candy store and finally came into an area still under construction—Checkpoint B—where clothes would be stashed.

Aiden padded over to a sofa and deposited his mate on the cushion. He rooted around underneath the sofa until he came up with a duffle bag in his jaws. He shifted into his human form and unzipped the bag, revealing clothing within.

“We should be safe for the moment if you want to shift back to being human. I’ve got you some clothes.”

The rabbit stared at him, nose twitching. Her form flowed like water, expanding in the space of a single breath into a naked human woman. His eyes widened, and his heart skipped a beat—his mate was utterly gorgeous and totally his.

She sat on the sofa, knees to her chest, eyeing him with more wonder than suspicion. Thick hair so dark brown it was nearly black hung down in waves past her shoulders to mid-back. Her big brown eyes stared out at him from a heart-shaped face.

Aiden spoke first. “What’s your name? I’m Aiden Croft.”

She licked her lips, and then replied with a soft Spanish accent. “Mira Rivera. Sorry, it’s been about a week since I actually spoke.” Her eyes flashed over to the duffel bag. “Thanks for saving me and all, but um, you don’t happen have a towel in there? Maybe some wet wipes?”

“A towel? I don’t think—I mean, you could use my shirt, I guess. What’s wrong?”

Her angular brows climbed high on her forehead. “What’s wrong? Look, thanks for saving me, I really do appreciate it, but you carried me. In your mouth. For like an hour, and now I’ve got tiger drool all over me.”

“It was nothing like an hour… um… here.” He grabbed a nearby roll of industrial shop towels and handed it to her.

She accepted it and then cleared her throat. “Um, you can get dressed any time.”

He looked down at himself and felt a flush of embarrassment. “Right, sorry. You spend a lot of time naked when you’re SSD.”

Her eyes widened as he dug in the duffel bag for a pair of boxers. The ones he found had Pikachu all over them.

I’m going to fucking kill Brody.

“You’re SSD?”

“You’ve heard of us?” He quirked a brow.

“Only rumors.”

“Probably all true. In the name of all that is good, we fight dirty.”

Aiden donned the silly boxers and glanced at her. She’d slipped into a pair of plain cotton panties and matching sports bra. She looked good, with lusciously curved hips he longed to feel against him. Soon.

“How did you end up in that pet shop?” Aiden rummaged around in the duffel bag until he came up with a pale blue t-shirt. Aiden never wore blue, and his older brother knew this.

“I’m not entirely sure.” Her brow furrowed as she stepped into a dark blue denim skirt with ruffled trim. The skirt only came to mid-thigh. More of Brody’s bullshit. This would be the last time he let his brother put together the clothes duffel. “I was at a meadow in my warren’s territory, perfectly safe. I’d been there hundreds of times before. The next thing I knew, I was waking up in the display cage.”

“You didn’t see who nabbed you?”

“No.” She slipped on a white sleeveless shirt that clung to her body. He found himself distracted by her once again. “I didn’t see a thing.” Mira pursed her lips. “If you’re done ogling me, you can put on some pants or something.” Her gaze dropped down to his boxers. “I mean, I know you’re my mate, but I’m not about to let you claim me in a defunct furniture store.”

Her lips parted in a smile, the first one he’d seen on her face. He found himself smiling back, a giddy warmth spreading over his chest. He basked in her scent, her smile, the way her bangs almost but not quite hung in her eyes.

He stared at the shirt he’d just slid on, the tacky blue one. It had a graphic that read Hufflepuff in the Streets, Slytherin in the Sheets.

“Fuck you, Brody,” he muttered as he slipped on his pants… which turned out to be out of style skinny jeans.

“Huh?” Mira frowned as she looked up from her shoes. “And what are these? What is this brand? Pro Wings? There’s nothing professional about this stitching and I don’t. Do. Velcro.”

“You could go barefoot,” Aiden replied. “I didn’t put these bundles together, but we’re going to have to make do.”

She rolled her eyes and snorted. “All right, fine. I’ll wear the Pro Wings.” She slipped them on and groaned. “Just as I thought, not one whit of support. Who designed these arches, the Marquis De Sade?” Mira glanced up at him as he finished pulling on a pair of orange and yellow camouflage pattern crocs. “You realize I’m about seventy five percent just fucking with you, right?”

He straightened, lips twitching. “No, I didn’t.”

“Well, I am. I’m not some ungrateful brat.” She ran her gaze up and down his body. “I just didn’t want you to see me for the first time dressed like trailer trash.”

“Mira, you could wear a potato sack and you’d still be gorgeous to me.” He took a step closer to her. “Ever since I caught your scent, I’ve been driven to find you.”

“You could smell through that glass?” She glanced around the darkened store and frowned. “So, what’s the plan now? We still need to get out of the mall, and if they catch us we’re likely to be arrested.”

“And neither of us have any ID.” He replied. “Hold on.” Aiden put a finger to his temple. “Dad, are you there?”

“I’m here, Aiden.”

“Mira and I… that is, the client and I are at Checkpoint B. Can Brody give us a little distraction?”

“I’ll get him on it. Hang tight.”

“Who were you talking to?” Mira interrupted.

“My father. Living legend, former Tracker, and huge pain in the ass. But I know he’ll get us out of this in one piece.”

“A former tracker? Are you some kind of big deal or something?”

“Not so much. Not like my father. My brother, Brody, and I have been in his shadow for a long time. It’s not so bad, though. It’s a good problem to have, it’s opened a lot of doors for me.”

She took a step closer to him, her nostrils flaring. “I just can’t believe that my mate is a tiger… I mean, tigers eat rabbits in the wild.”

“If they can catch them,” Aiden agreed. “I get the feeling you can move like lightning.”

“Well, I didn’t move fast enough in the meadow, now did I?” She grimaced.

The temporary drywall door to the furniture store swung open with a bang. Mall security had found them. Thinking quickly, he grabbed her in his arms and drew her into a kiss.

Mira stiffened initially, her body taut as a bowstring. Then she moaned into his mouth, as if in relief, and melted into his body. Her taste exploded across his tongue and he growled with the flav—

“Hey, what are you doing?”

Aiden pulled away from her and flashed the guard a frown. “What does it look like we’re doing?”

“You can’t be here. The mall is closed—” A tiger’s roar split the air. Something huge and orange dashed past the open doorway. The mall cop stared after Brody in shock, then turned his gaze back to Aiden and Mira. “Just… just get out of here. Just go! It’s not safe. There’s some kind of animal on the loose.” The security guard took off running after Brody.

Aiden stared after the man to make sure he was gone.

“Um, I think the coast is clear. You can let go of me,” Mira muttered.

Aiden realized he had his hand at the small of her back, pulling her up onto her tip toes and crushing their bodies together. His cock gave a hard twitch and lengthened due to their proximity.

“Sorry.” He set her down before she noticed his growing erection. Judging from the sidelong glance she gave him, he’d been too late. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

He took her hand and led her out of the furniture store. They’d chosen this place for its seclusion and because it was only yards from one of the mall’s exits.

Aiden led her to the set of four glass doors. They made their way out of the mall and into the open air.

Aiden sighed, taking in the sweet taste of freedom. “My father should be waiting for us behind that water tower.”

“I can’t believe we made it out. Who was that other tiger?”

“My brother, Brody. He’s the one who stuck us with these clothes.”

She looked down at herself. “Well, his taste in shoes is abysmal, but I like the skirt, and the top’s not bad.” Her gaze went to him and she burst into laughter. “Now you look ridiculous. Your butt looks fantastic, though.”

Aiden found himself chuckling with her. “Yeah, well, turnabout is fair play. Next time I’m going to make sure his clothing drop is bell bottomed jeans and platform shoes from the seventies. Maybe throw in a feather boa.”

She flashed him a teasing smile. “Are you sure you’re some elite soldier?”

“You’d be surprised how often we hear that.” He led her around the base of the water tower, and their SUV came into view. Aiden saw his father in the front seat, blowing smoke out the window as he puffed on a cigar. “There’s my dad now.”

Aiden led her to the SUV and held the back door open for her. She took his hand and clambered inside.

He followed. “Mira, this is my father, Ricker. Dad, this is Mira. My mate.”

“The rabbit,” Aiden’s father said, offering his hand for a shake. “Nice to meet you, Mira.”

“Nice to meet you… Richard?”

“No, Ricker.”

“Tricker?”

Aiden’s father frowned. “No, Ricker. R-I-C-K- “

“Susan?”

Ricker closed his mouth. Mira gave him a shit eating grin. Ricker turned around in his seat in a huff. “Now you’re doing it on purpose. What do I expect from a rabbit shifter.”

“Not present is my brother Brody,” Aiden said, ignoring the old man’s muttering and hoping Mira would, too. “He’s out playing tag with security and probably having entirely too much fun for his own good.”

She nodded, casting an anxious glance at the mall. He could understand her urge to be as far away from it as possible.

Aiden took her hand. She started, then turned to look at him and offered a weak, anxious smile.

Aiden vowed he would never let anyone terrorize his mate again.

CHAPTER FOUR

MIRA SHIFTED in her seat as she stared out the tinted window at the darkened shopping mall. They were still waiting on an appearance of Brody.

Speaking of her mate, he noticed her scrutiny and turned a frown her way. “Are you all right?”

“I think I’m going to be okay.” Mira squinted her eyes as she gazed at the mall’s blocky structure. “You know, it occurs to me that this is the first time I’ve seen this mall from the outside. It’s a lot smaller than I thought, but everything seems big when you’re in a tiny enclosure.”

He sat up a bit straighter in his seat and fixed her with an intense gaze. “I’m sorry. That must have been a nightmare.”

“Just your bad luck they put you in a spot with security cameras,” Ricker added from the front seat. Apparently he was over her being snarky with him.

“Yeah. I don’t know how much longer I was going to be able to put up with all of that, to be honest with you. I was planning on somehow getting to the security station and deleting the tapes of me shifting or something.”

“Sounds like a great plan,” Ricker muttered from the front seat. She tossed him a miffed frown.

“Dad,” Aiden grumbled. “Don’t be rude. It’s not a bad plan at all, it’s basically what we did when we cut power to the server farm housing the security feed’s memory.”

“No, it’s all right, Aiden.” She tried his name out on her tongue. She decided she liked the way it felt. “It was a dumb plan. At least you got me out before they tried to make me mate with an actual rabbit.” She shuddered. “Talk about disgusting! I would have clawed somebody up if they’d tried that with me.”

“Clawed somebody up?” Aiden’s lips twitched.

“Yes, rabbits have claws. Front and back. How do you think we dig burrows?”

He didn’t laugh, so she poked him in the ribs until he yelped. Ricker laughed heartily from the front seat. “Oh, you’ve got yourself a firecracker, son. The rabbit has a tiger’s soul.”

Aiden smiled. “Yeah, I’m a lucky guy.”

“Lucky? Look at all of my gray hair. That’s your mother’s doing, and she’s a firecracker, too. Of course, she makes up for it with pelvic sorcery.” Ricker’s eyes grew distant. “Have you ever heard of the dance of the seven veils? Well, she does all seven of them—”

“For fuck’s sake, Dad,” Aiden groaned, covering his face with his free hand. “Don’t scare Mira off when she’s only been here ten minutes.”

“She’s family now, she might as well get used to it.”

It warmed Mira’s heart to hear him say she was family. On the other hand, she had to set some things straight with Aiden. “Aiden, I know we just met and all, but can you please stop acting like I’m sheltered or something?”

“Sheltered? Well, aren’t you? I mean, the whole shoe thing—”

She held up a finger and he stopped talking. “Okay, I’ll grant you I’m a bit of a priss. I prefer the term fashion plate. However…” Her lips parted in a sly grin. “My appreciation of decent attire has no bearing on the amount of experience I’ve had in the world.”

Aiden’s lips drew into a thin, tight line as he digested what she’d said. She thought he might believe she was mad at him, and that wasn’t the case at all. She felt the need to say something more.

Mira continued, “In other words, Aiden, when someone says ‘do it like a rabbit’ what do you think they mean?”

He caught onto her meaning. His nostrils flared, and his gaze grew smoldering with heat. She felt as if she would melt into a puddle under his hungry-eyed gaze.

“I don’t know why it got so damn quiet back there all of a sudden,” Ricker said without looking back “but nobody’s getting down with Hanky Panky in this vehicle.”

Aiden and Mira exchanged glances, then burst into laughter.

“Hanky Panky? Did… did your dad seriously just say Hanky Panky?”

“Hey, two words, capitalized, Hanky Panky is a Nomenclature, isn’t it Dad?”

“Well, I guess the two of you making fun of me is better than listening to you play tonsil hockey.”

“Oh, tonsil hockey,” Mira picked up on the game. “That’s a nomenclature, too. I’ve always thought hockey was a bad metaphor for kissing anyway. Isn’t it more like dueling? You know, like with swords?”

Aiden laughed, Ricker sighed and tapped the side of his head.

“Brody, are you done in there or are you on fucking vacation? What’s your status and why the fuck aren’t you out here yet?”

Ricker’s eyes grew distant as he accepted Brody’s return communication. Then Aiden’s father cursed and slammed the idling SUV into drive.

“God damn showboating little punk ass!” Ricker tore out of the water tower’s shadow and zoomed across the parking lot.

“Dad, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, Brody decided to improvise. He’s three blocks away trying to get the security guards to drop dead of a heart attack.”

“That idiot,” Aiden sighed. “I guess we’re on our way to get him?”

“You guessed right.”

The SUV tore off into the darkened streets. Ricker drove into a rougher area, pulled into a dark alleyway, and waited. The only things visible were the glowing lights on the dashboard, and a silhouette of Aiden’s face.

Her keen ears picked up the approach of another predator. It had to be Brody. She was not surprised when a dark shape dropped from the roof of a nearby building and landed in a crouch beside a dumpster.

“About damn time,” Ricker muttered. Brody’s silhouette changed as he shifted into his human form. His shadow moved toward them until the passenger’s side door opened, illuminating Brody’s grinning features.

“Brody, cover your shame, there’s a lady present,” Ricker snapped.

“I’m on it, Dad.” Brody slipped on a pair of boxer shorts.

Aiden glared at his brother. “What’s the big idea of the shirt and the boxers, you dick?”

“You don’t like Pokémon and Harry Potter?”

“I’m not a nerd.”

“Your shirt says otherwise.”

“Can you not embarrass me in front of my mate?”

Brody finished dressing as Mira laughed. He thrust his hand into the back seat for a shake. “Hey there. I’m Brody, Aiden’s brother. It’s nice to meet you. As a human, I mean.”

“Nice to meet you, too. Thanks for the help in springing me out of the slammer.”

“I know, that was fucked up.” Brody’s face scrunched up in confusion. “So how did you…?”

“She doesn’t know,” Aiden growled. “And it doesn’t really matter. Pet shop suppliers poach from the wild all the fucking time and then pretend like the rabbits have pedigree and shit.”

“Well, you’re safe now.” Brody assured her.

“She won’t be safe if you don’t get in the fucking car,” Ricker growled. “Or do you want to just stand there with the door open, chatting all goddamn night?”

“Jeez, Dad, you sound downright sentimental.” Brody got into the SUV and closed this door. “I guess you’re on your best behavior for Aiden’s mate, huh?”

Ricker turned a sullen glare on Brody before returning his gaze to the alley. “Next time don’t improvise.”

He drove toward the end of the alley. Mira gasped when one of the mall cops jumped in front of the truck and waved his arms.

“What the fuck is this bullshit?” Ricker slammed on the brakes and laid on the horn. “Get the hell out of my way.”

Another mall cop trotted up to the driver’s side window. “Excuse me, sir, but we’re looking for a thief who broke into the mall. We need to search your vehicle.”

Mira cringed, but all Ricker did was sneer. “Son, I can see by your uniform you’re a mall security guard. Not a cop. You’re not searching my vehicle, and if your tub of lard friend doesn’t get the fuck out of my way, I’m going to run him over.”

Ricker rolled up the window, almost trapping the security guard’s head. He gunned the engine and the security guard blocking the alley way leaped to the side. They were free!

Mira sighed and relaxed into her seat. She realized she’d been squeezing Aiden’s hand.

They drove through the streets of Charlotte, leaving the bad neighborhood behind. They entered the downtown area and the bright lights and glitz and gleam of the city made her feel better.

“I’m so glad to be out. Being in that glass cage really sucked.”

“I heard of a baboon shifter who got caught in a zoo exhibit once. He was there for four years until SSD was able to get him out.” Aiden smiled. “I’m glad you didn’t have to wait that long.”

“I didn’t have to wait that long because of you.” She grasped his hand in both of hers. He was just so gigantic, so much larger than life in almost every way. “Thank you.”

“You’re my mate, Mira. I’d do anything for you.”

She felt warmth blossom in her heart. She lifted his hand to her lips and kissed it softly.

Ricker interrupted them, of course. “That sounded like a kiss. I mean it about the Hanky Panky.”

“There’s that term again,” Mira said, dropping Aiden’s hand with a laugh.

“Just wait until dad tells you that you’re smart as paint,” Brody chimed in. “He’s got a lot of old timey phrases that make no sense.”

“Some of them make sense,” Aiden added. “Can’t find your ass in the dark with both hands and a flashlight is a good one.”

Mira laughed along with the brothers. Ricker shook his head but Mira believed his impatience was largely feigned. Anyone could see, and feel, the warmth between the man and his two sons. They might have been bad asses who fought for shifters in dangerous situations, but they were also a family.

Aiden leaned forward to talk to his dad. “Are we at the hotel yet?”

“Almost. One more turn.”

They came around the corner and the Ritz Carlton appeared at the end of the block. The hotel seemed a bit elegant for how she and Aiden were dressed.

“Are they going to let us in the door dressed like this?” she murmured.

“You don’t like the duds?” Brody frowned.

“Other than the shoes, I like it just fine,” Mira replied.

Brody laughed. “Ha! I told you, bro. Rabbit shifter chicks love anything that comes out of Forever 21.”

“You got her shoes from Walmart, though.”

“I was in a hurry. And don’t complain, I saved both your asses back there and we all know it.”

Ricker pulled up in front of the hotel lobby. He opened the door and let fresh air and street sounds into the SUV. He tossed the keys to the sleepy-eyed valet as the others got out. Aiden got out first, and then turned to offer her a hand for assistance. She took it, smiling in gratitude. She smoothed her hair out of her eyes as she set her feet down on the street below.

They made their way into the lobby, Aiden taking her hand as if on instinct. He wasn’t about to let her leave his side now that he’d saved her. Not that Mira minded, at all.

The staff didn’t so much as blink an eye at them as they made their way through the lobby and Ricker checked them in. In a few moments, Ricker came over to them, holding two plastic key cards contained inside of paper envelopes with room numbers written on them.

“All right. We’re all checked in. This way to the elevator.”

Brody stifled a yawn. “Hey, Dad, do they have one of those free breakfasts here?”

“How the fuck should I know?”

“They usually mention that stuff at check in.”

“I wasn’t really paying attention. I know the important stuff, and I can find the damn elevator.” Ricker led the way to the elevator and pushed the call button.

Mira leaned against Aiden and he bent down and kissed her on top of the head. A happy bubbly feeling tickled her from temples to toes.

The doors slid open and they boarded the elevator. Ricker pushed the top floor button, and the car lurched upward.

At the top floor, the doors slid open and they found themselves on the penthouse level with only two rooms—a suite on each side of the hallway. They walked down the hallway until they reached the doorways, slightly askew from each other on opposite sides of the corridor.

“Here.” Ricker handed over one of the keys to Aiden.

“Brody and I are taking penthouse suite one. You and Mira get penthouse suite two.” He pointed at the room across from their own. “I picked this hotel for a number of reasons. For one thing, its centralized location makes it an ideal base of operations. For another, the stairwells and the elevators require a key card to access. No one can just wander in from the street. Thirdly—”

“Okay, Dad, I get the point. We should be relatively safe here tonight. That’s the bullet point of what you’re saying, right?”

Ricker closed his mouth and glared for a moment. “As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, there shouldn’t be any trouble tonight. However…” He pointed at his door again. “Brody and I will be right across the hallway from you and Mira. One shout for help, one tiger’s roar, and we’ll be there to back you up.”

“I understand, Dad. Thanks for all the help in rescuing my mate.”

“Yes, thank you, Susan,” Mira added. She just couldn’t resist.

Ricker sighed and rolled his eyes. “All yours, son,” he muttered “All yours. May god have mercy on your soul.”

Ricker and Brody headed into their own suite. Brody threw them a smile and said good night before shutting the door behind him.

Aiden used his key and the door swung open to reveal an opulently appointed penthouse suite. Aiden led her on a brief tour, culminating in the bedroom.

“We stay here sometimes on SSD related business. It’ll be nice to actually relax here for a change.”

“You really don’t think that anyone’s going to bother us here?” she asked.

“Oh no. The staff are excellent about keeping strangers away, and you’ve got three tiger shifters with ears and noses for trouble.”

“Good,” she said, smiling and chewing on her finger. “That’s really good.”

She stood right next to him and rubbed her fingers across his forearm, feeling the hard lines of muscle there. He growled low in his throat, and then took her in his arms.

Mira had a feeling she would get little sleep tonight… and it didn’t bother her a bit.

I’ll sleep when I’m dead…right now, after being caged for so long, I want to feel alive.

I want to feel alive in Aiden’s arms.

Forever.

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About the Author

Ex-dance teacher, former accountant and erstwhile collectible doll salesperson, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Celia Kyle now writes paranormal romance, science fiction romance, and urban fantasy.

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GORGEOUS SAVIOR

A MARCHETTI MAFIA STORY

CHARITY FERRELL

CHAPTER ONE

CELINE

WHEN PEOPLE ASK, “What’s it like being the daughter of the most dangerous man in the city?”, I tell them I have no idea.

It’s different when you’re the illegitimate child of Cristiano Marchetti—the head of the Marchetti Mafia family. Well, he was the head of the family. Now, he’s dead.

Murdered.

His funeral is packed, unsurprising. He was admired and feared by many.

I keep my head down as I walk into the church.

“It’s not a good idea for you to be here.”

My back straightens like steel, and I halt at the familiar voice behind me.

Santos Caruso.

Years have passed since our last conversation, but I’ll never forget that deep and demanding voice I’d fallen in love with so long ago.

Arguing with him is a bad idea. If people see me, it’ll end up in nothing but my ass being thrown out of here. So I clench my fist, ignore him, and move deeper into the church. Back then, I’d never worry about him ratting me out, but times are different now. He could announce my arrival and cause chaos here.

I’d dressed to blend into the crowd—wearing black, of course, a fascinator hat, and dark makeup.

“Celine,” he hisses my name so low it’s barely audible as he follows me.

His keeping his voice down confirms he won’t tattle on me. I gasp when my elbow is gripped and nearly trip on my heels when I’m shoved into the back corner of the church. Santos’s grip stays on me, his touch burning into my skin as he whips me around to face him. I open my mouth to tell him to drop his hands, but he continues walking, backing me up to the wall.

When he releases me, he slams a hand on each side of me on the wall. “You know you can’t be here.”

“No one will see me.” I gulp in fear that my words aren’t true.

“I see you.” Santos runs his hand over his shaved face.

My gaze zeroes in on those hands, remembering how he used to pleasure me with them so well. I stare at him, taking in his black suit that fits his slim but muscular body perfectly, and I hate how much my mouth waters.

I stare into his dark eyes. “Pretend you don’t then.”

“Celine—”

“Stop, Santos.” I raise a finger before thrusting it into his hard chest. “He was my father too. If I want to attend his funeral, I’ll attend his goddamn funeral.”

“This will cause trouble,” he says around a stressed breath.

“I’ve been considered trouble with this family my entire life.” I smirk. “Why stop now?”

Our bodies are so close, our chests pressed together, the sexual tension bleeding through the church when it shouldn’t. He’s doing me a favor, though. His large stature blocks anyone’s view of me.

I shiver when he raises his hand and strokes his thumb along my jaw. “Don’t.”

He bows his head to whisper in my ear, “You look good.”

I inhale a deep breath.

Then slowly exhale.

Calming myself.

“And you look like an ass.”

He cups my jaw. “Aw, baby, that’s not nice.”

“I don’t need nor want your compliments.”

“Baby, I’ll admit all day, every day that you’re fucking gorgeous. What I’ll also admit is we’re incompatible as fuck.”

“Glad you finally came to that realization.”

Something flickers across his face—a mixture of hurt and hate. “Oh, trust me, I have.” He turns, giving me his back, and peers over his shoulder. “If you want to stay, you do it behind me.”

“Who said you make the rules?”

“If you don’t like it, you can go sit by Maria.”

I shove his shoulder.

“Watch the fucking funeral, Celine.”

I spend the next hour peeking over Santos’s shoulder, and no one notices me. If my father’s wife, Maria, spots me, all hell will break loose. The woman hates me as if I’d been the one to break my vows to her. It was my father who betrayed her, not me.

Maria dramatically sobs from the front row while my half brother, Cristian, delivers the eulogy. Now that my father is gone, Cristian will become the head of the family—the youngest to do so. I don’t know where that takes my future.

When the funeral ends, Santos keeps his back to me. “Be at my office at noon tomorrow for Cristiano’s will reading.” He doesn’t give me another glance before walking away.

I HAVE TOO much history with the old red-bricked building I’m walking into.

The Law Office of Caruso & Sons

The office screams old money—matching just about everything in this life. It’s where my mother collected her child support checks from my father or, more specifically, Santos’s father. My father gave it to his attorney, and I could count on my two hands the number of times he’d been there during our pickups in the eighteen years he’d supported me.

Mafia men’s secret babies typically stay in the dark, but unfortunately for him, he’d chosen the wrong woman to be his mistress. My mom might’ve been okay keeping their affair a secret, but she wouldn’t allow me to be kept a secret. So she made sure people knew that I was his child, resulting in him having to step up or he’d look like an asshole. Family is big in the mafia.

I hear conversation from Santos’s office when I walk in. The door is open, so I don’t bother knocking. All attention shifts to me. Cristian, my older sister, Helena, and Maria are in the room. Goose bumps cover my skin as I slowly slip my gaze to Santos sitting behind his massive oak desk.

His eyes are glued to me, and at first, I refuse to meet his stare. That only lasts a second, because I won’t miss this opportunity, in case we never see each other again.

This is the man I’d fallen in love with before even getting my first period. Santos was the only boy who’d speak to me without judgment and never looked down on me, like most in this world. He was the only one who didn’t see me stained as a bastard child. Memories flood through me as our stare off continues, neither one of us wanting to be the first to look away.

Sneaking behind the building to make out when our parents talked.

Our first date at the local diner.

The night we lost our virginities to each other.

And the one memory I don’t want to remember: when I broke our hearts.

My ex-boyfriend looks better than ever—matured, now in his late twenties. He’d fallen straight into the mold that his parents had planned: law school, work at his father’s firm, and handle all the Marchetti’s legal needs—mainly covering up their criminal activities.

The longer we stare at each other, the more our eyes burn, but Cristian clearing his throat throws water on that fire.

“Celine, thank you for coming,” Cristian says, his words almost sounding like an announcement.

I blink a few times, tearing my gaze away from him, and take the seat next to Helena.

Helena shoots me a friendly wave, and I ignore Maria’s nasty glare.

Santos clears his throat louder than Cristian had and stands. “Now that everyone is here, I’ll get to it.”

Why am I here?

Cristian called last night and asked—no, demanded—I come today, as if he hadn’t known Santos told me yesterday.

Santos doesn’t pay me another glance as he begins reading my father’s will—rattling off his wife and my siblings’ inheritances. I’m not expecting much from my father.

“Celine—”

All attention swings to me when Santos says my name and continues his reading, “In order to receive your inheritance and remain protected by this family, you will need to marry. The man I’ve chosen for you to marry is …” Santos stops speaking, and his entire body tenses.

My heart races. “Marrying … marrying who?”

Santos’s face pales, and he rereads the sentence under his breath as if he hadn’t read it correctly.

“Marrying who?” Maria snaps.

Santos clenches his strong jaw. “Me.”

“I’m sorry …” My voice shakes. “What?”

“Keep reading, Caruso,” Cristian orders.

No, no, I don’t want to hear any more.

“You and Santos are to marry within two weeks of my death.” Santos’s nostrils flare. “There are no exceptions.”

My heart is beating so hard I can feel it in my throat, and I jump up from my chair. “Hell no. I’m not marrying him. I don’t care about money, or protection, or any of that. So forget it.”

“Sounds good to me,” Maria says. “Get you out of our lives for good.”

Cristian shoots her a hard look before sliding his annoyed glare to me. “What’s the problem? You two have already dated—which makes things extremely complicated since men in this life prefer to marry women who—”

“Are virgins,” Maria says, cutting him off. “Everyone knows Santos and you were fucking.”

“That’s enough, Maria,” Santos snaps, surprising me.

Not many disrespect someone of her status because it could cost them their life.

“Santos is a good man,” Helena says, brushing her hand down my arm. “You two liked each other at some point.”

“No,” I say, nearly tripping over Helena’s feet as I dash toward the door, my eyes refusing to meet anyone’s. “I don’t need an inheritance nor protection.”

My body shakes, my mind running, as I walk out of the building and leave.

On the ride home, a conversation with my father creeps into my thoughts. He’d asked to choose a husband for me years ago, but I refused to be married off—refused to be some business transaction for him. Every decision Cristiano Marchetti made was to benefit himself.

He wasn’t happy, but I wouldn’t budge. And he said, “One day, that will change.”

Cristiano Marchetti always gets what he wants—even from the grave.

Well, the mafia boss won’t win this time.

CHAPTER TWO

SANTOS

I SLAP Cristiano’s will onto my desk and snarl at Cristian when Maria and Helena leave. “Why would your father pull that shit?” My mouth turns dry. “Marrying Celine?”

At one point, she and I had discussed marriage, kids, our futures.

But hopes of that ended years ago.

Cristian grabs a paperweight from my desk and plays with it in his hands. “My father liked your family, Santos. You’re the best attorneys we’ve ever had on the payroll. We’d like to keep you with us.”

“We’ve been your attorneys for decades without having to be married into your family.”

“Wrong.” Cristian tsks. “Your mother and father had a similar arrangement, remember?”

Fuck.

I forgot my grandfather was deep in the Marchetti business before his passing. The difference is, my mother was happy in her marriage. She wasn’t married to a man she didn’t like. My grandfather made sure she liked my father before allowing their marriage.

“We pay you good money, Santos,” Cristian adds.

“And you don’t make it goddamn easy,” I huff. “It might not be worth the headache anymore.”

“You either marry her or I’ll find a random attorney, hire him, and give him Celine as a retainer.”

He smirks when I bare my teeth at him.

The fucker knew that comment would draw jealousy out of me. He knows I care about Celine, and I’d never allow her to be married off to some random scumbag. No other motherfucker deserves her.

I shake my head. “She’ll never agree to it.”

“I’ve seen you in court. You can be persuasive.” He tosses the paperweight back onto my desk. “Make it happen, Caruso. You know what happens to those who decide to step away from the Marchetti family … that includes you and your possible future wife.”

“Don’t take this out on Celine. She never causes your family trouble.”

“You have twenty-four hours.”

When he leaves, I grab the paperweight and hurl it across my office. It hits a picture, the glass paperweight shattering against the glass photo. Mafia psychopath or not, no way will I allow Cristian to force Celine to marry some fucking sleazebag attorney.

That leaves only one option: convincing her to marry me.

But Cristian doesn’t know how fucking stubborn his half sister is.

CELINE ATTEMPTS to slam the door in my face when she finds me on the other side, but I kick my foot out to stop her.

“Don’t play games with me, Celine,” I say, my nostrils flaring as I walk into her house.

I ignore her stumbling back to allow me space. I’m entering her apartment whether she likes it or not. We have shit to figure out and don’t have much time.

“And what game am I playing, Santos?” she asks, slamming her door behind us.

“If we don’t get married, it’ll be both of our asses on the line.”

She scoffs. “That’s your own fault for jumping into legal bed with psychopaths.”

I arch a brow. “You’re speaking of your family.”

“You don’t think I know who my father was … who Cristian is?” She throws out her arms and stomps into the living room. “I’ve watched my father kill men in cold blood, and then your father made sure he didn’t go to prison for it. I’m sure you’ve taken over for your father after his death, doing the same thing.”

She slumps down on the couch in defeat. Her silky black hair is wet, my guess freshly washed from the shower, and her nipples show through her tank. My cock stirs—the same way it had when I saw her at the funeral and my office. When Celine is around, all I think about is her. I’m surprised I didn’t stumble over my words while reading the will.

We’ve avoided each other for years since our breakup. When I saw her at the church yesterday, I told myself I was only approaching her to tell her to leave, but that wasn’t why. I wanted her there, in my space—so I could touch her, smell her, taste her.

“Cristian will marry you off to someone else.” I make sure my voice is loud and clear before settling myself on my knees in front of her. “It’ll either be another attorney, one of their soldiers, or someone in an opposing family in exchange for something that favors him.”

Her breath quickens, and I clip a strand of loose hair behind her ear. My voice softens. “Baby, it’s me, who, yes, is involved in their business, but I don’t fucking kill people nor am I a lunatic.”

She shivers when I run the back of my hand along her cheek, the skin soft against my rough hand.

Fuck, I’ve missed touching her.

Kissing her.

Just being near her.

I bow my head, brushing my lips against her ear. “Don’t act like we didn’t have amazing chemistry, baby.” I lick her neck, and she cocks her head to the side, giving me better access, so I suck on her skin. “Marrying me won’t be that bad.” I lower my hand and run it along her bare thigh, and she sucks in a breath. “We can do this.”

Her shoulders settle, and she relaxes into my touch but then suddenly swats me away. “Don’t.”

I grin into her neck. “We loved each other.”

She’s quiet.

“You agreed to marry me before.”

She pushes me away from her, and anger sparks in her eyes. “You were marrying me to make my father happy, just like you are now.”

“Bullshit,” I snarl, returning the anger. “That was your cowardly excuse.”

She snorts.

“I asked your father for permission. He said yes and was happy. Why in the motherfuck would that make you mad?” I shake my head before returning my hand to her thigh and cupping it. “Would you rather spend the rest of your life with someone Cristian chooses? I know you don’t want involved in that world, but trust me, baby. I’m the furthest you’ll get from it.”

Her chest is heaving as she blows out deep breaths, and I pull away, slipping a velvet box from my pocket. Even though I’m already on one knee, I situate myself more like a man proposing to a woman.

Her hand flies to her mouth when I open the box. “It’s … it’s the same ring.”

I nod. “The same ring.”

A shiny six-carat solitaire on a band of diamonds. I had it custom-made with our initials engraved into the band years ago.

Her eyes flutter as she stares at me. “You kept it?”

“I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it. Maybe, in the back of my mind, I thought something like this would happen, and I’d get you back.” I lower my voice. “Marry me, Celine. Be my wife.”

“Santos, I—”

“Just say yes. I promise to keep you happy.”

Instead of answering me, she smashes her lips into mine.

Celine is good—making me forget her avoiding the question by slipping her tongue into my mouth. I groan, kissing her back, and fuck, she tastes so damn delicious. Our kiss is familiar as if no time has passed between them.

“Santos,” she whimpers into my mouth.

I drop the box onto the floor, giving no fucks about the diamond, rise, and push her onto her back. She slides her legs together in anticipation when I climb over her on the couch. She looks breathtaking as I stare down at her, ready for whatever I give her. Her nipples beg to be sucked, her thighs opening to give me access to everything I want. My cock throbs as I settle between her thighs and return my mouth to hers, hungrily kissing her. She grinds her waist against mine, rotating her hips, and moaning. Our bodies slide against the others, needy and frantic.

I’ve missed this.

I need this.

“Do you want me to play with this pretty pussy, Celine?” I ask, lowering my hand between us and cupping her.

“Yes,” she whispers.

“Like this?” I brush her shorts and panties to the side. As much as I want to take this slow, I can’t.

Her back arches off the couch, and she gasps my name when I thrust a finger inside her. When I add another, a grin plays at my lips. I love how she responds to me pleasuring her.

“So tight, baby,” I whisper into her ear, playing with her pussy. “So wet for me.”

I drive my finger in and out of her, my thumb playing with her clit while sliding against her thigh. As much as I love pleasuring her, my cock begs for attention.

“Santos,” she moans, lifting her hips, begging for more. “Right there. Oh my God, right there.”

“What, baby?” I grip the side of her face with my free hand and lick up her cheek.

“Please.” She squirms beneath me, and her head shoots forward when I withdraw my fingers. “What the …?”

I reach down and grab the ring box. “Say yes, and I’ll keep touching you. I’ll get you off with my fingers, then my mouth, then this hard cock that’s missed you.”

CHAPTER THREE

CELINE

“SAY YES, and I’ll keep touching you.”

Santos has always had a way of making me fall apart under his touch.

I’m panting for more of him.

For all of him.

God, I want him inside me so bad.

I shake my head and refuse to look at him.

He squeezes his eyes shut, contemplation on his face. “This might be the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.” Dipping his head down, he plants a single kiss on the inside of my thigh.

I raise my hips in hopes that his tongue will be there next.

I’m so wrong.

When he pulls away from me, I move the fastest I ever have in my life and grab his wrist to stop him. Then I attempt to push his fingers back inside me. He curses under his breath, warring with himself, but jerks out of my hold. I stare up at him, eyes wide, as he pushes himself off the couch.

“You can’t be serious?” I slap my hands along the cushions before sitting up straight and gesture to the erection under his pants. “You want this, Santos. I want it.”

“I want you to be my wife more.” He straightens his cuff links before dropping the ring onto the table.

I’m holding my breath as he walks away, praying he comes back and is just playing a game, but my shoulders slump when I hear the door slam shut.

That bastard left me confused, desperate, and wanting more of him. It seems some of my father’s evilness has rubbed off on him.

I look up at the ceiling. “Damn you, Dad. You can’t ever let anyone live in peace, can you?” Then I shake my head and look down at the carpet. “My bad, I forgot where you were sent.”

“MARRY HIM,” my mother says after I finish telling her about my hell of a day yesterday. She’s always the one I can vent to and will never judge me.

“Mom, that world isn’t for me.” I grab my glass of wine and stare at her from across the table. “Look at what it did to you.”

My mother is a beautiful woman and has aged much better than Maria—most likely because she has a damn heart—but she wasn’t smart enough to step away from my father. She loved that devil of a man. She hasn’t dated in decades, unable to move on because my father considered her his property up until the day he died. She was a convenient lay for him—along with his list of other mistresses—and he couldn’t lose that. No man would dare touch her, or they’d die. And she probably would have too.

I will never be with a man like that—never live a life like that.

Her voice softens. “Santos isn’t your father.”

I snort. “They all end up like my father.”

“He’s a good guy, honey. He used to worship the ground you walked on.” She shakes her head. “They could’ve tried to give you worse.”

I shudder at her words. “Mom, when a woman gets married, it should be her choice when and to who. I shouldn’t be forced into a marriage.”

She sighs. “You’re right, but this is a different life, Celine.” A smile tugs at her lips. “I would be fighting this more if I didn’t know you still loved Santos. That’s why I told your father if he were to ever have you marry, it had to be Santos or no one. If there was anything he could promise me, if he never wanted me to try to leave him, he’d let you be with a good man.”

Her confession has me at a loss for words.

“And I know your father well enough to know Santos isn’t being given much of a choice either,” she continues. “He’s a good attorney, and they want to keep him. They’re not below blackmailing a man over the woman he loves. Santos would do anything to keep you safe and to make sure Cristian doesn’t marry you off to some lunatic. Because, baby, your father isn’t here anymore. Cristian now holds the keys to the Marchetti world, and he’s just as ruthless—if not worse.”

Her words are a harsh reality check. They’re playing with Santos’s life as much as they are mine. It’s not like they’re giving him a choice either. I saw the pain on his face when he mentioned Cristian marrying me off to someone else. I’d lose him, he’d lose me, and we’d both be stuck with someone else.

Is that what I really want?

My heart beats like a chaotic drum when I leave my mother’s house. So many emotions are driving through me I can’t think straight. Before I can change my mind, I make a U-turn and drive to Santos’s office.

RELIEF FLOODS me to find Santos’s black S-class Mercedes parked in front of the office.

I take an indecisive breath as I walk into the building. This is how it needs to be. If I spend too much time thinking, my anxiety will take over, and I’ll probably end up leaving the country or something.

Santos drops his pen when I lightly knock on the door. “Celine?”

Here goes nothing.

“It, uh …” I run my sweaty hands over my summer dress. “It seems everyone is adamant that we marry.”

His lips form a flat line. “It seems so.”

“I’m just … confused.”

He rolls his chair out and stands. “I asked you to marry me years ago.” He straightens his tie. “And you said yes …”

A tear slips down my cheek. “I had my reasons for walking away.”

“You said yes, we made love all night, and then the next morning, you wrote me a breakup note and left it with my ring.” He walks around his desk and sits on the edge of it. “What happened?”

“I’ll never marry an unfaithful man.”

He winces as if I’d slapped him. “I was never unfaithful to you.”

“But the men in this world are,” I whisper, my voice cracking.

He’s quiet for a moment as if processing my every word repeatedly, and the hurt expression remains.

“My father slept with multiple women, and no one said a word, as if it were normal,” I continue. “Which I later found out it was—the same with them choosing our husbands, which I was also scared he’d done.” My voice hardens. “I’ll be damned if my husband sleeps with another woman and then comes home to me.”

“Celine.” He inches toward me, and I shut my eyes, loving the way he says my name. “Did I ever cheat on you when we were together?”

I bite into my lip, shaking my head.

“Fuck, did I even look at another woman?”

I shake my head again.

“That’s what I fucking thought.” He circles an arm around my waist, drawing me to him, and I lose a breath. “If there’s one certainty you’d have of me as a husband, it’s that my dick is yours and yours only. I don’t give a shit about what people in your family do because that’s not me. My father had no mistresses and respected my mother. I learned from him. Not the men I work for.”

“Santos …” My voice cracks as I rest my hand on his chest.

He bows his head and lowers his voice. “Kiss me, Celine.”

And that’s exactly what I do.

I grab the back of his head, dragging him into me, and kiss him as if I’ll never do it again. I kiss him as if we’re nineteen again, loaded with emotions and horniness, and nothing matters in the world except for us.

He tastes like coffee and peppermint. I lose a breath when he picks me up, wraps my legs around his waist, kicks the door shut, and carries me to his desk. He shoves everything off the desk in one motion, and my blood heats when he settles me onto the desk, my ass halfway off. I gasp, struggling to breathe when he spreads my legs and settles himself between them.

As if that’s his home.

Where he’ll always belong.

“Celine,” Santos hisses through clenched teeth before balling the hem of my dress in his fist, pushing it up to my waist, and revealing my black panties to him. My legs shake, feeling useless when he licks his lips.

With one swift motion, he drags my panties down my legs, opens a drawer, and shoves them inside.

“Fuck.” He grips my thighs, his fingers digging into them so rough I’ll be bruised in the morning. “Every inch of you is so damn beautiful.” Then he shoves two fingers inside me. “You still get so wet for me.”

I shut my eyes, throwing my head back, and meet his fingers, thrust for thrust, as he pleasures me. My head flies forward when he adds something to his fingers, his tongue, and licks straight up my slit.

“Oh my God,” I hiss, lowering my hand and shoving it into his hair. “Don’t you dare stop.”

“Never,” he groans into my core. “I’ll be here as long as you want, baby.”

He fingers me. Licks me. Sucks on my clit.

Until I fall apart.

I catch my breath as he pulls away, and when I can gain control of my thoughts, I lift myself up on my elbows and stare at him. His hand is on his cock, stroking it through his pants, and need is in his eyes. I know Santos enough that he won’t ask me to suck his cock, especially given our situation. He’s always been a man who cares about a woman more than himself.

His eyes are closed, so he doesn’t notice I’m watching him.

I stare at the outline, at his hand moving up and down at it.

I want to stroke him. Suck him. Fuck him. Pleasure him as much as he pleasures me.

“Let me suck you,” I moan, reaching out to him.

He halts, shaking his head. “This was about you. Not me.”

“Then let me suck your cock.”

He doesn’t move for a moment, and I hold my breath. That breath releases when he unbuckles and unzips his pants before shoving them down his thighs. Just as I’m about to fall to my knees, to admire the cock I’ve missed, he slams his hand down onto my chest. I let out a humph at the same time I’m pushed back down, and he shoves his cock somewhere else.

Straight into my warmth.

His thick cock stretches me.

My pussy tightens around him.

My legs clench as I wrap them around his waist and drag him closer.

“Fuck,” he groans, throwing his head back. “I’ve missed this pussy.”

I moan, rotating my hips, meeting his every thrust.

“Tell me you’ve missed this cock.”

“Yes,” I moan. “I’ve missed your cock.”

He moves faster, his waist slamming into mine roughly. “Fuck yes, you have.”

When he rotates his hip, I know I’m close.

“Oh my God.” I tighten my hold on him as warmth spreads through my body. “I’m close.” My words are said through harsh pants.

He flicks my clit. “Come on my dick, baby. Come on this cock and tell me you’ll be my wife.”

I stay quiet but don’t stop raising my hips to meet his.

“Say it, Celine,” he grinds out, stopping.

He might be still, but I’m still moving against him, grinding my hips, hitting the spot where I need him. I see the conflict on his face. I know I’ve won when he groans and starts slamming his hips into mine, fucking me wildly, just like the past few days have been.

Getting our aggressions out on each other.

When my orgasm hits me, I moan out his name.

He gives me three more pumps, then pulls out and comes on my dress.

A quick fuck.

I should feel dirty.

But I don’t.

Santos is out of breath when he peers down at me. “Swear to God, if that doesn’t convince you to be my wife, I’m laying you down on this table and eating your pussy until you can’t take it anymore.”

I slide off the desk. “Thanks for the orgasm. I’ll keep both marrying you and you eating my pussy until I can’t take it anymore into consideration.”

He stares at me, unmoving, shocked.

I kiss his cheek. “Until next time, Santos.”

I’ll marry Santos.

But that doesn’t mean I won’t be a pain in the ass about it.

CHAPTER FOUR

SANTOS

“DID you get my thickheaded sister to agree to marry you yet?” Cristian asks, strolling into my office as if he owns the place. Behind him is a man maybe crazier than him, Rocky, his puppy dog who worships the ground he walks on and will kill anyone at the snap of Cristian’s fingers.

“You ever heard of fucking knocking?” I snap.

Rocky’s hand inches to his pocket, but Cristian holds up a hand, stopping him from most likely blowing my brains out.

“You’re lucky I don’t feel like covering up a murder today,” Cristian says, his tone annoyed.

“You won’t have anyone to help save your ass when you’re arrested for it, so be my guest.” I smirk at him.

Celine left my office an hour ago, and even though I’m thoroughly fucked, that doesn’t mean I lost all my frustrations. If anything, there’s more. Now that I’ve had Celine again and been back inside her, there’s no way I’m letting her go.

“My sister?” Cristian asks.

“I’m working on it.”

“Work harder. I’m ready for this to be checked off my goddamn list.”

“You could easily take it off your list.”

He flicks his hand through the air. “Nice try, Caruso. Your wedding is on Saturday.”

“That’s in two days.”

Cristian taps his Rolex. “Tik tok, then.” He glances at Rocky, a threat to me.

“You need me,” I say between clenched teeth.

“Attorneys are replaceable.”

“Bullshit, you and I both know I’m not replaceable.” I stand from the chair and straighten my jacket. “Which is why you want me to seal the deal with Celine so much. Not for her, for you. Your family has given two fucks about Celine her entire life, but now suddenly, she needs to be protected and in the family.”

“Enough!” Cristian slams his hand onto the desk. “My father always made sure Celine was protected, and you know that. My sister and I were never cruel to her.”

I snort. “Yet you allow your mother to treat her like trash.” I’m playing with fire here, but when it comes to Celine, I’ll run through the damn flames if I have to.

“I’ve spoken to my mother. She’ll watch her mouth going forward.” He grins. “Celeste used to look at you like you have a golden dick. My father and I decided to have her marry you because neither of you would be miserable in marriage. Get her to marry you.” He curses under his breath. “It’s like I’m dealing with goddamn toddlers. Saturday. Clear your schedule. I will drag your bride there if need be.”

“If she’s not okay with it, there will be no wedding.”

He lets out a vicious chuckle. “It’s your death wish, Caruso.”

CHAPTER FIVE

CELINE

AFTER A TENSE MEETING with my lunatic half brother, I text Santos.

Me: I’ll see you on Saturday. I’ll be wearing white.

Santos: Celine, you don’t have to do this.

Me: Yes, I do.

Santos: I’m coming over.

Me: I won’t be here. They’re making me stay at Cristian’s mansion, most likely to make sure I don’t make a run for it.

Santos: I guess we’re doing this?

Me: We’re doing this.

THE WEDDING WILL BE in Cristian’s flower garden.

Helena took me on a tour earlier this morning. For a man so cruel, my brother sure enjoys being surrounded by beautiful things.

I exhale a breath, run my hands down my white dress, and stare into the mirror. I’d asked my mom and Helena for a moment to myself before walking down the aisle. I’d fought with myself on whether to agree to this marriage. Like so many have said, it could always be worse.

I haven’t spoken to Santos since we had sex in his office, but he’s all I’ve thought about since. I love Santos, and if there’s anyone I’d want to be with, it’s him. I guess sometimes it just takes a forced wedding to drag out the truths you’ve tried suppressing.

A knock turns my attention to the door. Before I get the chance to say, “Almost ready,” the door opens. I expect my mom or Helena, but it’s Santos standing in the doorway.

He looks breathtaking in his black tuxedo—everything I’d ever dreamed of when we were younger. He doesn’t look like a man forced to marry a woman he doesn’t want to be with. But he also doesn’t look happy. He looks … concerned.

“It’s bad luck to see your bride before the wedding,” I say but don’t attempt to cover myself.

Nothing about this wedding is traditional anyway.

“Is this what you want?” He stalks toward me. “Do you want to marry me?”

My eyes nearly bulge out of my head. “You’re asking me this on our wedding day?”

Is he bailing on me?

Will I become some cliché left at the altar story?

He nods, running a hand through his hair, messing it up. “Yes. Everything happened so fast, but if you don’t want to marry me, I won’t force you.”

My head spins. “Is this … is this your way of saying you don’t want to marry me?”

He flinches. “Fuck no. I’ll marry you in a minute, but I don’t want you to feel as if you don’t have a choice in the matter. This is your future too.”

“But Cristian—”

He presses his finger against my red lips. “I care more about you than him or any consequences of us not agreeing to his demand.” He kisses my cheek. “This is your decision. Not mine, not Cristian’s, yours.”

He’s asking me what I want—no matter the consequences if I say no. Santos was right. He’s nothing like my father, like Cristian, like any of the men standing outside waiting for me to get married.

Santos stares at me with hooded us, awaiting my answer that’ll determine our futures.

I smile, biting into my lip and smudging my lipstick. “Yes.”

“Yes?” His voice is shaky. “You want to be my wife?”

“Yes. I want to be your wife.”

“Thank fucking God,” he mutters before crashing his lips onto mine. I kiss him back, not caring about my makeup or hair when he digs his hands into it.

We get lost in each other as we make out, and I can’t stop myself from laughing when Santos pulls at my dress and asks, “Can we get you out of this?”

It’s a stupid move, but I turn around and motion toward the zipper in the back.

Our breathing is frantic with need as he unzips it.

“It won’t be easy getting you back into this, but I swear, I’ll do my best,” he says, raining kisses along my neck.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

He stops kissing me. “For what?”

“For making sure I’m okay with this.” I wiggle out of the dress with his assistance, and it pools at my feet. “Most men wouldn’t respect a woman’s choice or put his ass on the line for her.”

“I’ve respected you since the day we met—when I asked you to share your Skittles and you handed me one and said that’s all I’m getting. I loved you while we dated and even after you left me—”

“Yeah, about that, I’m sorry.”

He whips me around and presses a finger to my lips the same way he had earlier. “That’s the past, baby.”

I shiver when he runs his hand down my arm, squeezing my hand and keeping his hold on it as he takes a step back before slowly dropping it.

His canine tooth bites into his lower lip. “You’re so beautiful, Celine.”

I shut my eyes, taking in his words as warmth shines through me.

Wasting no time, I attack his mouth again and walk him backward, unbuckling his pants as we make our way to the couch. He groans when I push him down onto it, jerk his pants down, and release his perfect cock, precum at the tip.

I slip out of my panties and straddle him but am stopped before taking him inside me.

“Wait, isn’t this supposed to happen on our honeymoon?”

“Oh, don’t worry. It will then too … plenty of times.”

He laughs against my mouth and holds me back from dropping onto his cock. “I love you, Celine. So fucking much.” It’s as if he had to get that declaration out.

I wrap my arms around his neck. “I love you, Santos. I never stopped loving you.”

We moan together when I lower myself fully onto his cock.

He feels so good inside me.

“Yes, baby,” I moan.

He unhooks my bra, shoving his face into my breasts before sucking on a nipple. I ride him fast and hard and wild.

“I love this pussy,” he grunts beneath me. “My wife’s pussy.” He grips my waist and slams me onto him. “This is all yours, baby. All yours. I’ll never need anyone else.”

I’m not sure how loud we’re being, but at this point, I really don’t care.

It’s only the two of us making love, and no one else matters.

My legs shake, tingles shooting through my body as I ride him harder until I’m crying out his name.

Santos pumps his hips up, fucking me ruthlessly, and holds me in place as he comes inside me. “I am yours, and you are mine. Forever and always, Celine.”

SANTOS IS HELPING ME—AND somewhat failing—put my dress back on.

“Why the fuck do they make things so fucking complicated?” he mutters.

We jump at the bang on the door. “You have a goddamn wedding to get to,” Cristian barks from the other side. “Now, if you’re not fucking naked, open the door.”

Santos finishes helping me and gives me one more kiss before swinging the door open. Standing in front of us are Cristian, Helena, and my mother.

“Well, she looks thoroughly fucked,” Helena says.

Cristian glares at her.

“What?” She shrugs. “Good for her.”

“No wonder my father hated his life half the time,” Cristian hisses before shaking his head and walking away. “No one can just do as they’re fucking told.”

Santos smiles at me, and I can’t help but burst out in laughter.

My eyes don’t leave Santos’s as Cristian walks me down the aisle.

And as we say our vows, I marry into the world my father wanted, but to a man nothing like them.

He might work for them, but his heart is different.

Warmer. Lighter. Kinder.

I never wanted a man in the mafia world, but I had no choice.

Thank God for Santos—my first love, my husband, my everything.

And we live happily ever after in a world of chaos and crime together.

WANT CRISTIAN’S STORY?

Get his in Gorgeous Monster

About the Author

Charity Ferrell is a Wall Street Journal and USA Today bestselling author. She resides in Indianapolis, Indiana with her boyfriend and two fur babies. Her passion is writing about broken people finding love while adding a dash of humor and heartbreak. Angst is her happy place. When she’s not writing, she’s on a Starbucks run, shopping online, or spending time with her family.

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FALL FOR ME

BONUS EPILOGUE

CLAIRE WILDER

CHELSEA KELLY

“LOOK AT HIS BUTT!” Newly five-year-old Jack bent over, clutching his little belly and laughing hysterically. The little black pug he was playing with—Mischief—wagged his tail eagerly as he eyed the tennis ball in the boy’s hand that his whole body shook.

Cass and I looked up from our poolside loungers at the sound of Jack’s hooting, unable to keep from laughing ourselves. It was our nephew Jack’s fifth birthday, and he was playing catch with his dad—our brother Jude—and Seamus.

My Seamus.

Amazingly, the whole family was going to make it to this informal party. Our dad, who promised he’d be sticking around more these days—and had constrained his latest trip to Central America to only a month to prove it—plus four of the five of us adult siblings were already here. Only Cass’s twin Eli was missing, but he’d texted me to say he was on his way. He’d been acting weird lately, but it reassured me that he was going to at least come through for Jack.

I picked up my pencil, peering back down at the photo of little Jack I’d tucked inside. He’d asked that I draw a picture of him to give to his Dad for his own birthday—classic kid non-logic.

“He gets cuter every year,” Cass said, eyeing the photo and then the boy.

“I agree,” I said.

But when I looked out to the guys playing ball, my eyes didn’t go to the adorable five-year-old. They locked on Seamus, running for the ball Jude had thrown too hard. When he leapt for it, his worn t-shirt stretched up and a healthy strip of his taut stomach was exposed above his swim trunks. I practically licked my lips.

“Woot!” I shouted, as he caught it.

Cass snorted, and across the grass, Jude rolled his eyes.

Maybe that was a little overly enthusiastic, but I couldn’t help it.

Then Seamus winked, making my stomach plunge with that familiar, swoony feeling I still hadn’t gotten used to since we got back together.

“You know I was talking about Jack,” Cass said.

I cleared my throat. “Oh. Yeah, he’s adorable too.” He was, with his dark hair and ruby cheeks still chubby with baby fat. But I couldn’t help notice the look on Cass’s face as she watched him. This was, I realized, at least the third time I’d seen or heard her mention a little person in the past week.

But soon Cass looked back to her novel, and I tried to get back to my sketchbook. But now Seamus lifted up his shirt to mop sweat from his forehead and I snapped the book shut. It seemed indecent to be drawing a picture of my nephew when my mind was turning to considerably less pure things. Like how a few hours ago, I’d made the mistake of changing into my bathing suit with Seamus in the room.

He’d actually growled.

“I don’t think it’s safe to wear this in public,” he said, coming over to me and pulling me by the hips toward him. “All three of your brothers are going to be there today, and I won’t be able to stop thinking about what I want to do with you.”

“We’re going to be late.” I’d laughed, pressing my hands against his chest. But then he used his thumbs to shift the flimsy elastic fabric across my breasts aside and then his mouth was on me and time kind of flew out the window.

I felt heat rise in my cheeks at the memory. If I wasn’t careful, this drawing might go in a very different direction, and Jack would have to be content with a hastily-drawn stick figure.

I forced myself to focus. It was funny—if I’d been in this exact position last year, spending a summer afternoon by the pool with my family, with the late afternoon sun heating up my skin, my sketchbook on my lap, and the sound of water lapping against tile next to me, I probably would have thought it was the happiest moment of my whole year.

And it had been a terrible year.

Finding my familiar quiet life left too glaringly empty without Mom, I’d spent the bulk of it trying to drown out my grief around her passing with nonstop partying.

And last year, Seamus Reilly—sweet, sexy, gorgeous, kind Seamus—had just been my brother Eli’s best friend. I still couldn’t believe where we were now—so in love my chest hurt when I thought about it too hard.

Jack caught the ball next, and threw it in the opposite direction of Mischief, to where Seamus’s and my dog Lola set off on a lopsided run to catch it.

When I found out Seamus had bent over backward to adopt Lola, the dog who hadn’t belonged to me, but had been my lifeline back when things were so rough, it had been the cherry on top of the best day of my life. Seamus showing up at that café, when I felt like I wanted to drown myself in the coffee Eli had ordered us, had made every ounce of pain and suffering I’d ever known crumble away. He’d been all that mattered at that moment. But when he’d driven me to the cottage he’d been staying at, and Lola was bounding around the backyard, drenched and hyped up like she’d never been more excited to see anyone in her life, I’d been too overcome to speak.

Lola barked, and Seamus, out on the lawn, gave her a side-eyed look. “We’re supposed to keep it down, remember?” Apparently this neighborhood—the most expensive in Quince Valley—wasn’t much for loud kids and dogs.

Lola laid down on her paws, chagrinned, until Seamus ruffled her behind the ears and she jumped up and barked again. He looked over at me and winked, sending warmth fuzzing through me.

“He sure loves that dog,” Cass said. “Almost as much as he loves you.”

“Sometimes I wonder.” I laughed.

That rainy day when I met Lola as the dog I’d get to keep, he’d told me he knew he couldn’t count on us getting back together. But he always thought of Lola as my dog.

“Our dog,” I’d said. He’d looked at Lola as he gripped my hand, but I could tell he was trying to keep it together.

“So, how’s the long-distance thing been going, anyway?” Cass asked, tossing the book aside and picking up her drink. We were drinking Radlers—a beer and grapefruit juice mix in a tall can I’d thought would be disgusting when Reese, our hotel’s restaurant manager, had introduced them in the restaurant last month. But they were actually incredible. Low alcohol, refreshing citrus—it was the perfect summer drink, though I limited myself to one just in case I found them too delicious.

“It’s not bad,” I said, and it wasn’t, not totally. At first, Seamus and I couldn’t bear to be apart, and I’d spent most of April and May in New York State. But my fledgling business, Chelsea Kelly Events Management was at the point where I needed to actually hold the events I’d been planning for my new clients. As timing would have it, Sarah, the new manager at Reilly Contracting who’d been staying at Seamus’s place, found a house of her own in town, and when Seamus had suggested I move in there, I only hesitated for a half-second. Sure we were brand new, but we wouldn’t actually be fully living together for another year and change, when Seamus’s contract in New York was up. He’d be back on the weekends, and best of all, I’d get to hang out with the chickens and get Lola as much as I wanted. It was absolutely win-win, at least until Seamus got back, then it would be win-win-win.

“We make it work, but I have to say, it sucks being apart even for a night,” I confessed.

“Tell me about it,” Cass said.

Cass had told me about how it had been tough with Blake still traveling for his job.

“Is everything going okay with you guys?” I asked, laying the sketchbook aside. I couldn’t help but think her comments about cute kids and her inability to focus on her novel might be connected.

Cass hesitated. Then, worrying at a thread on the towel next to her leg, said, “We’ve been talking about maybe”—she lowered her voice to a whisper—“adopting.”

I gasped, my heart swelling. “Cass, really?”

“Shh!” she said. “You can’t tell anyone, Chels. We’re not in a place to do it yet, not with Blake still away so much.”

I saw the hurt in her face and guilt shot through me. I hadn’t been around for her as much as I should have been. At all, really, not since the accident.

Not since Mom.

We talked about what she’d looked into so far with the adoption process. “Did you know it can cost up to $70,000 for an adoption?” she asked, after telling me about what was involved.

“Damn!” I exclaimed. I’d had no idea.

“It’s not about the money, though,” she said. “I know that sounds ridiculous, especially considering how we were on the brink of losing everything earlier this year.” Cass pinched her lips together. “But things are different now. Blake makes good money with his business. Even if he didn’t, his brother Mitch is… well, he’s featured in a lot of top 40 under 40 lists in those financial magazines.”

My eyes widened. “He’s a millionaire?”

Cass pointed her thumb up.

“A billionaire?” I gawped. I’d never known one of those before, and now he was going to be married into our family. I glanced over at Blake, who was getting his ear talked off by Dad over at the barbecue, trying to imagine him with a brother who was as rich as royalty.

“So, the money’s not the issue,” I repeated. “What is?”

Cass pulled on her sunglasses, and I knew she was trying to hide her eyes. I reached for her hand.

“I’m just not sure it’s ever going to happen. Blake’s still traveling so much, and I’m so involved in the redevelopment of the hotel…”

“If you want it, it’ll happen, Cass.”

My sister smiled, her lips wobbling a little.

“Hey.” I squeezed her hand. “Do you want to do a rom-com movie marathon? Next week, when both our guys head back out of town?”

Cass grinned. “Do I get to pick the movies?”

“Obviously.”

“Well then yes, obviously.” She sat up and gave me a huge hug. “Maybe we should watch Pride and Prejudice,” she said. “The BBC version.”

“Isn’t that a whole miniseries?” I asked.

“We have a lot to catch up on! Besides, Colin Firth is the superior Mr. Darcy.”

I hadn’t seen it, but I decided not to tell her I wasn’t sure how the Kiera Knightly version could be topped, given how passionately she was waxing on now about 1990s Colin.

I laughed, thinking about how good it was going to be to get close to the people I cared about again.

And Cass was just the beginning.

I’d spent my whole life turned into myself, not opening up with people I loved when I could have. Only people who chased after me—like Jude, with his golden retriever energy—got to find out what was really going on with me. But being with Seamus had shown me that being vulnerable actually made people care more, not scared off. That opening up led to deeper friendships, not more volatile ones.

After Cass turned back to her novel, I saw that Dad had followed Blake outside to the barbecue. Poor Blake—he’d appeared interested in some of Dad’s travel stories earlier in the afternoon and now Dad wouldn’t let up.

Then a pang of guilt hit me. Dad was lonely. I knew he traveled so much not to only to ‘explore the world,’ as he said, but because being in Quince Valley—and around us kids—reminded him so much of Mom.

I thought again about what Dad had given me when I’d picked him up at the airport last week and the guilt intensified—along with something more tender. It was what he’d been trying to tell me about for months.

“I wanted to talk to you about these,” he’d said, passing me a taped-up shoebox. “But I think it’s best if I just give them to you and let you see for yourself.” When I opened it, I’d found a stack of three leatherbound books. At first I hadn’t understood what they were. Then I opened the front cover of the one on top and immediately recognized Mom’s sweeping handwriting.

My chest had clenched. “Dad?” I’d choked out.

He smiled, his eyes watering. “They’re your Mom’s journals, from the time we were separated.” That had been before I was born—before any of us siblings were born.

He’d wanted me to see them first.

“I kept them with a friend of ours down there,” he’d said.

I remembered vaguely that Mom and Dad had gone on a few vacations to Costa Rica after the five of us left home. She’d obviously wanted to keep the diaries far away from us.

“I know how close you two were, Peanut,” he’d said. “I only opened the first one, and when I saw the dates, I closed it right shut again. That was a bad period of our lives, and for all I know, she did something she’d regretted, too.”

“What do you mean, ‘too’?” I’d asked him, but he’d seemed to realize what he’d said and cleared his throat.

“Nothing—just… we weren’t together then. I don’t think she’d want me reading them. But you should.”

“Would she have wanted me to? She kept them off the continent.”

“Yes,” Dad said, without hesitation. “She never wanted to hide anything from you kids.”

My throat had gone thick, and I’d been distracted enough by the gift of getting to be with Mom again—in this small but priceless way—that I hadn’t thought much more about it. I’d given Dad a teary embrace, then tucked the diaries away. Only Seamus knew about them, but I knew I had to tell the others.

And I’d start with Cass. I was just opening my mouth to tell her, nerves fluttering, when Blake hollered from across the deck, “Cass, babe, I need you.”

Beyond him, I could see Dad whistling through the sliding doors next to the kitchen. I could tell it was Blake’s first reprieve from Dad’s overly enthusiastic anecdotes.

The diaries could wait. It wasn’t like they were going anywhere.

When Cass went to Blake, he pulled her into what could only be called a passionate embrace, making her giggle. At least whatever issues they had with Blake’s work, there was nothing to worry about with their love for each other. Cass stroked Blake’s hair from his forehead as she whispered something to him. They were both so enamored with each other that I knew they’d sort it out.

And adoption… the thought made my heart swell.

Just then a hand slid onto my shoulder. I turned to see Seamus, kneeling next to my chair. “Hey,” he said.

If my heart had swelled before, it positively bloomed now. “Hey,” I said, smiling.

When Seamus kissed me, a tingling of stars ran over my skin. Would it always be like this, I wondered? He ran a thumb over my chin. “You look beautiful,” he said.

“You’re biased.”

“Want to take a dip?” he asked after finally pulling away. He snapped the waistband of his shorts, making me laugh. God, I loved this man.

But his shirt was damp with sweat, and moisture beaded on his temples, too. It was hot on the grass with the dogs—I’d been playing with them earlier.

“I dunno, I’m pretty comfortable here,” I said, sipping my drink.

“Suit yourself,” Seamus said, then in one quick movement, he peeled his shirt off, revealing his rigid torso, the hard V of muscle dipping into his shorts.

I set down my drink and took off my sunglasses, laying both on the side table next to me. “Actually yes. Yes, I do.”

Seamus grinned. He knew exactly how he affected me. He saw the way my eyes dipped lower, below the waistband of his loose-fitting shorts.

Before I knew what was happening, or maybe to distract me from salivating over his body in front of my family, Seamus scooped me up with an arm under my back and the other under my knees, and strode to the edge of the pool, his lips at my ear.

“I saw where you were looking, dirty girl.”

I laughed, even as a trickle of heat rode down into my stomach.

He bit my ear, quick and hot. “Ready?”

I nodded. But instead of jumping in with me, he took a step forward and unceremoniously tossed me into the pool. I shrieked, making everyone turn and laugh, then I was lost in the cool embrace of the water, bubbles shooting up around me. Seamus was in a moment later, scooping me up once more, pressing together both of our now wet bodies.

“I’ll get you for that,” I swore, smoothing the hair off my face.

“You better,” he said.

We kissed once more, and from somewhere in the distance I heard little Jack. “Ew, gross! Why does everyone around here like kissing so much?”

I laughed, and Seamus angled us so we were deeper in the water, our bodies hidden.

“Jack, you want to see something cool?” That was my brother Griff, I think, who’d come back from a phone call he’d taken inside. “I found a dead rat!”

“What?” Jude exclaimed, making a grossed-out face. “Where?”

The three of them strode down toward the lower half of the yard, which was out of sight of the pool.

Seamus grinned. “Bless you, Griff,” he said under his breath. Then he slid his hands over my ass underwater.

“And RIP Mr. Rat,” I said.

“Let’s not talk about dead animals while I’m thinking of ravaging you,” Seamus said as he kissed my neck.

With them out of sight and Cass, Blake, and Dad inside, we were finally alone.

I looped my arms around Seamus’s neck. “So where did you see me looking before you tossed me in the pool?”

Seamus grinned. He’d slicked his dark hair back from his face, and in this moment was quite frankly the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen. Though I think I’ve thought that every moment.

“Right here, he said, glancing over my shoulder to verify we were truly alone—we were—before taking one of my hands and drawing it between his legs. He was soft, but jumped to life as I closed my fingers around him.

“God, Seamus,” I breathed, giving him a soft stroke. He closed his eyes as he thickened under my touch. “Do I get to see more later tonight?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“If I get to see what’s under that swimsuit.”

“Want a sneak peek? I asked? I angled us so my back was to the house and yard, and pulled my swimsuit aside. Seamus groaned and covered my nipples with his thumbs, where they hardened into tight buds.

“Don’t tease me or we’ll be cutting out of this party way too early,” he rasped.

But it was him who pinched my nipples, pulling them into soft tugs before letting me go and pulling my suit back into place. “Naughty girl.”

“I can’t help myself around you,” I said.

He pulled me against him, and I could feel his fully hard cock now, right at the V of my legs. He whispered in my ear, “I just can’t get over how the woman I’m so madly in love with happens to be the hottest woman on the planet.”

After a scorching kiss, I pulled back, brushing his thick, dark hair off his forehead. “I love you, Seamus,” I said, as if I didn’t say it every other second already.

“I love you too, baby.” He kissed the scar on my forehead then, so soft and tender. It was what he did when he said that this close. Always.

Then a voice rang through the yard. “Did we miss it?”

I whirled around to see Eli cutting down the path from the fence. I raised my hand over my eyes to shade them from the sun, squinting.

“Oh my God,” I whispered. “Eli’s with a woman.” I was so shocked that for a moment I lost my words. The last person Eli had dated was well over a year ago—maybe more, and it had gone terribly. Then Cass had hired her at the hotel, and I hadn’t seen him do anything but be bitter about his love life since.

“Oh,” I said finally, finding my voice. “Hey, Eli.”

I repositioned myself so I had my arm resting on Seamus’s shoulder, safely side-by-side as Eli and the mystery woman approached the pool deck. “Hey,” Eli said to Seamus.

“Hey,” Seamus said back.

Eli still sometimes got awkward around me and Seamus together—he was his best friend, after all, but right now I could tell he was more than awkward enough by the stiff arm he had around the woman’s waist.

What the hell?

“Um, you going to introduce us to…” I turned to the woman, trailing off.

Then I froze, raising my hand to my forehead to shade my eyes. I squinted in the bright sunlight. “Reese?”

Reese, who I only ever saw with her hair tied up in a tight bun, dressed all in black—her uniform as the manager of the Rolling Hill’s signature restaurant, L’Aubergine—had her dirty blonde hair down and flowing over her shoulders. She was wearing a gorgeous, gauzy white sundress. But that wasn’t what I was looking at. What I was looking at was Eli’s arm around her.

Reese was the woman Eli had dated after his divorce, the one Cass had hired despite his furious protests.

Reese smiled almost nervously. “Hey, Chelsea.”

This was not computing. I loved Eli, and I loved Reese, but seeing them together was… wrong. These two hated each other. Eli had broken her heart. She’d been a rebound relationship for him, but from what I could tell, he’d been a lot more for her.

My brother had been a dick.

“Uh… so you guys are back together?” I was too surprised to word it more delicately.

Reese was stiff, and seemed unable to confirm, but Eli nodded. “Yep. Just in time for the visit from the Chef’s Apprentice next week.”

“Wait, the TV show?” Seamus asked, incredulous.

“That’s the one,” Eli said.

I blinked in surprise. “Seamus loves that show. As you can see. But what are you talking about, a visit?”

“The producers asked us if they could film a segment at L’Aubergine,” Eli said.

Reese shot him a look like he was skipping over something important. But she only pinched her lips tight.

Eli pulled his arm from around Reese and scratched the back of his neck.

I frowned. “Why are you being so weird, Eli?”

“Eli knows one of the producers,” Reese filled in, clearly as sick of Eli’s hedging as I was. “Or more specifically, the producer’s wife.”

I raised my brows. As far as I knew, Reese had been Eli’s only post-divorce relationship, and since that crashed and burned, he’d told me himself he was done with anything resembling a relationship.

“He knows her very well, in fact,” Reese said, her voice clipped.

Maybe he’d changed his mind.

Eli shrugged. “I… uh… ran into her awhile back, when I was picking up some of my stuff.”

He glanced at me briefly before looking away, and that’s when my mind started clicking. Eli had driven me to see Seamus in upstate New York, when I was hoping he’d still want to be with me. Eli’d offered to drive because he needed to clean out a storage locker nearby, which he’d shared with his ex-wife.

Then the pieces landed.

“It’s Kelly!” I exclaimed.

Seamus frowned. “Wait, your ex-wife is coming here? But you guys can’t stand each other, she left—”

I elbowed Seamus in the ribs and he coughed.

“Kelly was a news broadcaster, right?” I said, remembering. “She worked in TV.”

“And now she’s married to the producer of Chef’s Apprentice,” Reese said, her words clipped.

“One thing led to another,” Eli said, “and Ted”—he spat that name out—“offered to film a segment here.”

“So, Eli said yes,” Reese said, folding her arms. “Which means we’re all going to be on TV. For the world to see.”

“Does Cass know?” I asked, incredulous.

Eli glanced at the sliding glass door. “She will. Anyway, this is a great marketing opportunity for us. I couldn’t exactly pass it up. And I don’t have to run everything by Cass.”

He was right, he didn’t. He was COO, and though Cass was the CEO, they ran the Rolling Hills as a team. For the first time, I felt a tinge of disappointment that I now ran my own business and wouldn’t be at the next staff meeting of our family business. While I was still part-owner, I wasn’t part of the managerial team anymore, since I no longer worked there. But the staff meeting where Cass and Eli would have to put on a united front about this—when he made a decision without her—would be… interesting.

Cass was going to blow her top.

But none of that explained why Eli and Reese were suddenly… together.

Eli smiled, putting his arm back around Reese, as if reading my mind. “So, we figured, you know, that it was a good time to come clean about our relationship. Right?” He looked over at Reese, who smiled. She didn’t smile back until Eli’s turned into a grimace. Then Eli cleared his throat. “Right. Well, better go let the boss know, huh?”

With that, he and Reese strode across the deck toward the kitchen.

While they were walking away, we got out of the pool, grabbing towels and watching them do their awkward introductions to Jude and Griffin, who were coming back up from the lower yard.

“What the hell was that?” Seamus said, once they were out of earshot.

“I have no idea.” I flipped the towel over my hair. “But things at the resort are about to get very interesting.”

“And Chef’s Apprentice?” Seamus said, his eyes lighting up as he remembered what was clearly the far more important part of that weird interaction. Seamus loved to cook, and Chef’s Apprentice was his favorite show on his favorite network.

Looking at his face, as hopped up as it had been when I’d told him I loved him for the first time, I forgot all about the weirdness between Eli and Reese.

“You want a front-row seat?” I asked. “Because I know someone with an in.”

He tucked his towel at his waist and pulled me toward him. “I’ll do anything.”

I laughed. “Good. I’ll start making a list of all the dirty favors I’m going to need in order to pull some strings.”

“Throw her in again, Thaymuth!” Jack hollered from behind his dad, the dogs at his heels.

“Yeah, Seamus! Throw her in!” Jude yelled, then clapped a hand over his mouth as he glanced toward his crotchety neighbor’s yard.

“If they insist,” Seamus said.

“You’ll have to catch me first.” I laughed, feinting left.

“I already did,” he said, throwing his arm out and hooking me around the waist as I ran right. He pulled me close, whispering in my ear, “And I’m never letting you go.”

He kissed me, long and deep, to Jack’s disgusted protests.

When we pulled apart, he reached for my hand. “I love you,” I whispered.

“I love you too,” Seamus said back, dropping a kiss on my scar.

Then, laughing, we threw off our towels and jumped in together.

Thank you for reading this Fall For Me bonus epilogue! Fall For Me is available now and can be read as a standalone. Get it here.

About the Author

Claire writes steamy small-town romance novels (and the occasional sweet & sexy short story) set in gorgeous natural locales, featuring real life women and the sexy, wounded men who love them. To learn more about Claire’s books—and to receive an exclusive steamy story not available in stores—sign up for her Wilder Women newsletter: https://geni.us/touchingwoodfree.

PLAY HAPPILY EVER AFTER

CRYSTAL KASWELL

IT ISN’T LIKE the movies.

I don’t feel an exhaustion I can’t explain. I don’t wonder why I’m nauseous and tired. I don’t throw up in a trash can and blame bad shrimp.

I know I’m late right away.

I see the reminder on my fitness tracker.

Period due tomorrow.

It doesn’t come.

The next day.

Or the next.

Sure, at first, I don’t think too much of it. The app isn’t exactly reliable. It constantly loses the data I’ve added, throwing off the estimates. But once I hit five days late?

I don’t sit around, wondering.

I find a test in the bathroom (Kara donated her extras after the last time she and Drew tried to get pregnant). I pee. I wait three minutes.

I see it right there, in bold pink.

Two lines.

Pregnant.

HE’S on tour for another two weeks. I don’t want to tell him yet. I don’t want to deliver the news on the phone. Or the news of what I want to do.

We’ve talked about it, sure, but it’s always been a hypothetical, like winning the lottery. It’s not quite that unlikely, but it’s close. A one in 500 chance. It sounds absurd. But that still leaves one in 500 women in this situation. If all 46 million US women on birth control opted for an IUD, almost a hundred thousand would have an accidental pregnancy. Fifty thousand a year.

It sounds different in those terms. Way more likely.

But he hears it in my voice the second he calls, and for once I don’t try to talk him out of coming home.

He takes the first flight. He arrives home in the middle of the night, climbs into bed, presses a kiss to my forehead. “Go back to bed, baby.”

I murmur an objection.

“Need to shower before I have my way with you.”

I shake my head.

“No? Need to do it now?”

Usually, the promise of physical release is enough to ease the tension in my shoulders. The promise of connecting with him, my skin on his skin, my body in tune with his.

And his voice is every bit as caring and sexy as it usually is.

But my body?

It’s not in tune with me.

How could it do this?

How could this happen?

I thought I was safe. I’m not stupid. I understand statistics well enough to do my job. But every gynecologist I’ve ever had talked about an IUD like it was bulletproof. The perfect birth control. Flawless.

But it’s not.

“You want to shower with me?” he asks.

“Pete—”

“What happened?” He slips on top of the sheets.

I try to find the words, but I can’t. I’ve never imagined this moment. Not like this. When I was younger, maybe. Before Mom left and things with Dad got tough and I realized there were all sorts of options for women beyond mother and wife.

Those things satisfy so many people in my life.

I love being Mrs. Pete Steele. I do.

And I love my nieces and nephews. I love the law students I mentor at work. I love the teenagers Pete mentors through his outreach program.

But I don’t want this.

I’m a married adult woman in my thirties.

I’m supposed to want this.

“Jess?” His voice softens. “Baby. It’s okay.” He cups my cheek with his palm and wipes a tear with his thumb.

I’m crying. When did I start crying? “I don’t know how this happened.”

“How what happened?”

“No. I do know. I flew out to see you in New York. And, after we visited with Maddie and dad, we spent the entire weekend in the hotel room. How many times did we go?”

“I didn’t keep track.”

“Five? Ten?”

He lets out a low chuckle. “I’m not twenty-five anymore.”

“Only five, not ten?”

“Yeah.” He wipes another tear. “Wait. Last time. You…” Realization spreads over his face. Even in the dark, it’s obvious. “You’re pregnant?”

I nod.

He freezes, stiff, confused. “What do you want to do?”

“What do you want to do?”

“You know what I want.” His voice is soft. “It hasn’t changed.”

“But that was abstract, like being hit by lightning. Did you really think it could happen?”

“No,” he admits.

“It’s different for some people when it happens.”

“Fuck. This is my fault.” He shakes his head. “I should have volunteered to get a vasectomy a long time ago.”

“It would still be possible.”

“Yeah, but you’ve carried the weight of this for a long time. That’s not fair.”

“Where did you learn to talk like this?” I ask.

“Willow.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Wait. Did Tom get the snip?”

He mimes our secret. “He was an idiot about it. The same way I was. Thought maybe it would make him less manly. Less potent. Fuck, baby, I’m sorry.”

“Maybe after this.”

“I’ll support whatever you want to do.”

“I’m supposed to want to keep it,” I say.

“Why?”

“I’m thirty-seven,” I say. “I have nieces and nephews. I have a stable career and money and a loving husband.”

“You do.”

“And you’d be a good dad.”

“Anything I don’t do well?”

“Cook.”

He laughs. “Still, yeah.”

“But I don’t… I don’t want to be a mom. I don’t want my life to change.”

His shoulders relax.

“You’re relieved?”

“You disappointed we’re on the same page?”

“I don’t know… there’s something romantic about the idea of undertaking a project together.”

“A project?” He chuckles. “Yeah, I guess that’s fair.”

“And this is probably it… my last chance.”

“So?”

“So… I’m supposed to change my mind. That’s what everyone says. I see the way Kara and Drew look at us, like we just can’t possibly know the true meaning of happiness because we don’t have kids… Willow is better about it, but I see that look in her eyes.”

“She doesn’t think that.”

I raise a brow.

“Really. She thought about it, too.”

“She had an abortion?”

“She wasn’t sure, the second time. She thought about it.”

Right. They never planned on having biological kids. They always planned on adopting. But adopting was a lot harder in reality than it was in theory, so they did things the old fashioned way. (They managed to adopt two older kids, eventually). Then, a lot of years after their first baby, she got pregnant again. “She did?”

“Yeah. And then… two years later, it happened again, and there was an issue, and she didn’t want to risk it.”

“Really?”

“I thought she told you.”

“No.”

“She’d probably talk about it,” he says. “If you need to talk to someone who gets it.”

“But she loves being a mom.” And she still did this. It was risky, yes, but it was possible.

“You guys really didn’t talk about it?”

“The four of you gossip way more than the four of us.”

He chuckles. “That’s true.”

“And Tom is your brother.”

“Tragically.”

A laugh spills from my lips. It’s the first lightness I’ve felt since the test. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Not at you.”

“It’s not—”

“Yeah. It is. But I know that’s not perfect either.” He pulls my body into his. “Did you make an appointment with your doctor?”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t do terminations. And she didn’t have a referral. And…” I don’t want to end up on TMZ. It’s not that I’m embarrassed or ashamed. I just don’t want to announce my health decisions to the entire world.

I wish I did. I wish I was the kind of person who wanted to be a role model, to stand up and say I had an abortion and it was no big deal. But I’m not. Not yet, anyway.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he interrupts. “I know who to ask. I’ll take care of it.”

WHEN WE’RE ALONE, Pete is a normal guy. Well, he isn’t normal—he’s never been normal—but he’s down to Earth. We talk about books and work, we watch TV over takeout, we have intense sex.

He doesn’t mention his fame or money or power. Not often. I admit. I’m used to our lifestyle. The all-electric car, modern house on the beach, cleaner once a week, independent designer clothes, vacations on private islands—all of that is a part of my day to day. But, mostly, it feels… well, it feels like I’m another well-off lawyer at the firm. I forget we visit private islands because my husband is famous and we’ll attract too much attention in Waikiki.

But fame and money have their perks. And this is one. Twelve hours after our conversation, we’re sitting in a doctor’s office in Malibu, in an all-white waiting room with a view of the ocean.

The doctor enters with a friendly hello. She’s older, in her sixties maybe, but she’s easy going. Grey hair in a messy bun, boho dress covered by a lab coat.

She spots Pete with a note of recognition. Not the kind I usually see—the hey, aren’t you that guy in Sinful Serenade. With something else. Oh, a husband, here with his wife. She sizes him up, deciding if he belongs here or not, but, ultimately, she leaves it to me.

“Would you like your husband to stay for the exam?” she asks.

I nod. “Can he stay for the procedure? To hold my hand?”

She smiles, relieved. “Yes, of course. But we will have to talk alone first. Policy.”

I nod. “Do you want to sit outside for the exam?”

“Dunno. Never seen you up that close.”

My cheeks flush.

She chuckles.

“Promise you’ll find me if you need me?” he asks.

“I promise.”

He leaves with an I love you.

And it’s just me and the doctor.

“He seems like a nice guy,” she says. “Have you been married long?”

“A long time. My first year of law school.”

“So, what, three years?”

I laugh. “You flatter me.”

She motions a little and sits at the stool in front of the table. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” I scoot towards the edge and put my feet in the stir-ups. “Is it going to hurt?”

“You’ve never had an exam?”

“No, the procedure?”

“If you opt for twilight sedation, you won’t feel a thing. With only the local, there is some discomfort. Since you have an IUD, we need to do a surgical abortion. To make sure we remove the IUD.”

“How did it happen?”

“Sometimes, it just does. Sometimes, the IUD slips out of place.”

“My doctor didn’t warn me.”

“They usually don’t. IUDs are the best birth control we have, but they aren’t perfect. A lot of docs focus on the former and forget about the latter. And we often have so little time with our patients… we aren’t able to get into it.” She lifts the gown. “Feel my fingers.” She starts the exam.

It’s like every other gynecological exam. The odd pressure of her feeling my organs, checking for signs of trouble. She spots it right away: the IUD is out of place. It slipped. It’s not anyone’s fault. It’s just a thing that happens, sometimes.

After, she finishes and washes, I sit up, and we talk.

“I have to ask you these questions,” she says.

I nod.

“Are you aware of your option to continue this pregnancy?”

“Yes.”

“Are you here of your free choice?”

“Yes.”

“Is anyone pressuring you to terminate?”

“No.”

“Has your partner ever messed with your birth control to try to get you pregnant?”

“No.”

“Has anyone forced you to have sex?”

“No.”

“Do you feel safe with your partner?”

“Yes.” How many women answer these questions the other way? It can’t be as many here. Or maybe it is. It’s not like our upper middle class lifestyle made dad’s alcoholism any better.

“Okay.” She stands up. “Easy.” She goes through the instructions for the next steps. A nurse comes in with an IV. Then Pete. He holds my hand, but a few seconds after they start the IV, everything blurs.

I come back in recovery, with a nurse checking my vitals, Pete sitting at the chair in the corner. He catches my eyes and smiles, softly, an it’s going to be okay kind of smile.

And, like I always do, I believe him.

After we finish, he takes me home, he brings me water and chocolate and fixes my heating pad. For a few days, I feel horrible. The cramps. The rush of hormones.

He stays the entire time, has the band bring someone else in to finish the tour. I don’t try to talk him out of that, either. I know better.

And I don’t tell the world, but the next time Tom and Willow are over for dinner, expressing their mix of love for their kids and appreciation at a night of only adults, and she asks me if I’m feeling better, I tell her.

“I wasn’t sick. I had an abortion,” I say.

“Oh. Ow. Sorry, babe. Have the cramps stopped?” She smiles, the kind, generous woman I know well.

She doesn’t judge. Tom either.

I think. It’s hard to tell with him.

“They’re better,” I say.

“Does this mean you’re finally doing it?” Tom asks.

Pete nods.

“Oh my god. How can anyone love talking about their vasectomy this much?” Willow asks.

“Are you kidding? I can fuck my wife as much as I want, however I want, and I never, ever have to worry about an accident.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she says.

“You love it,” he says.

She kisses him and it’s another night with the Steele brothers.

No big deal.

Normal.

Read Pete & Jess’s full novel in Play Your Heart Out

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About the Author

Crystal Kaswell writes smart, sexy new adult and contemporary romances. Most known for her well-rounded, flawed characters and realistic depictions of addiction and mental health struggles, Crystal loves pairing nuanced characterization with super steamy scenes. Originally from southern California, she now resides in the Pacific Northwest, where she spends the rainy winters dreaming of sunny skies and balmy beaches.

BROKEN

DAKOTA WILLINK

CHAPTER ONE

HARPER

THE CROWD APPLAUDED as I stepped away from the microphone on the stage at the Women Rise fundraiser. I ducked my head in an attempt to hide my blush. Their praise was unexpected, and I was moved by their reaction to my speech.

They were giving me too much credit. All I did was recap stories of the women helped by Women Rise, a branch of The Stoneworks Foundation, the non-profit organization where I worked. Their focus was on gender equality, and they’d hired me to be the Director of Advocacy four years ago. In my short tenure, I’d watched many struggling women break through the social norms by fighting to achieve income security, decent work, and economic autonomy. Their stories were inspiring. This night was about them and all the women we would help after them.

“You killed it, Harper!” Justine Andrews, my boss and friend, said as I approached where she stood near the bar. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders in a congratulatory hug. “If donors don’t open up their wallets after that, I’ll be surprised.”

I glanced over at the large projector screen on the wall. A computerized graphic of a woman’s fist pushing up toward the sky filled the screen. The image was partially lit, the pink neon color rising just past the wrist. The goal was to raise enough money throughout the night to light up the fist completely, making it shatter the digital glass ceiling hovering at the top of the screen.

“Londyn from the Center for Reproductive Rights is supposed to speak next. Hopefully, she’ll get us halfway up the hand. The sooner that big fist turns all pink, the sooner I can relax.”

“The hard part is over. At least now you can grab a drink and mingle,” Justine said, holding up her pear martini. “You’ve got catching up to do! Let me grab a drink for you.”

I contemplated my options and decided I wanted a classy drink to match the sophistication of my black evening gown. The rhinestone spaghetti strap dress had been a rare splurge—one from which my bank account would take months to recover.

“I’ll have what you’re having,” I told her.

“One pear martini coming right up!”

Angling her body toward the bar, she motioned to the bartender and then pointed at her drink. Within two minutes, he had another pear martini served.

“Thanks,” I said to Justine as she handed me the glass.

“No problem. So, do you see that guy over there?” she asked, pointing over my shoulder. “Navy suit, red tie.”

I turned my head and followed the direction of her finger.

“Yeah, I see him.”

“That’s Noah Jackson from the Smith and Jackson Law Firm. And before you ask—yes. It is the Noah Jackson, the firm’s founder.”

“Okay, so what about him?”

“He’s the number two reason I came here tonight.”

“And the number one?”

“I’m the Head of Relations and Fundraising for The Stonework’s Foundation. It wouldn’t look good if I didn’t show support for one of our divisions. Plus, I believe in the good work happening at Women Rise. But Noah Jackson? Mm, mmm,” she said with a smack of her lips. “I’ve been single for long enough. My sister-in-law, Krystina, told me I should start dating again, and I think she’s right. It’s been four years since my divorce. I think I’m going to try talking to Noah later on and see if he wants to grab a bite to eat with me later this week.”

Noah Jackson was attractive. I couldn’t deny that. But he also had money, and if I knew Justine, she wouldn’t be just cozying up to him for a date. She’d also be looking for a donation to tonight’s fundraiser. I glanced around the ballroom and thought about the guest list. Everyone here was rich. Very rich. And everyone was a potential donor with whom I needed to connect throughout the night.

While I took in all the faces, I couldn’t help noticing the elegance of the crowd and the room. Chandeliers sparkled in the dim lighting of the room. Round tables spread across the floor, with pink tablecloths and centerpieces made of glittering lilies. As I scanned the large space, the hired band began warming up, preparing to entertain guests between the multiple speeches scheduled for the evening. A few members of Congress were in attendance. That made me happy to see. We needed federal support now more than ever. I made a mental note to thank them at some point during the night.

My eyes continued to roam until I was suddenly overcome with the feeling of being watched. I could feel it blazing from somewhere on the other side of the room like pulsing energy. The sensation was all too familiar. I should have known better than to look, but there was nothing I could have done to stop myself. I knew who I’d discover standing there. Only one person could make me feel that sort of blistering heat.

I slowly turned, and my eyes landed on Greyson Hughes. All that invisible energy crashed like the sun’s flares, searing as the flames licked my skin. My legs seemed to wobble on my four-inch heels.

My hand shot out to clutch Justine’s arm, bracing myself so I didn’t fall. Justine grabbed my hand, and I sensed her searching my face.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” she asked.

The answer seemed to lodge in my throat, and I felt starved for oxygen as my gaze stayed fixed on the gorgeous man across the room. He was the man who broke my heart, only to return ten years later to tell me it was all a big mistake. I’d run into him at the Stoneworks Foundation after he’d taken a lofty position at Stone Enterprise working security. Since then, Greyson had spent the better part of the past two months trying to convince me he still wanted me, but I’d rebuffed his advances.

But oh, how I wanted him—desperately.

My body ached for him, but my heart had a long memory. Allowing Greyson back into my life again would only bring more heartache.

I cleared my throat and turned my back to Justine.

“He’s here,” I whispered.

“Who?” she asked with a frown.

“Greyson Hughes.”

“Greyson? As in the Greyson? You’ve got to be kidding me,” she hissed.

Justine knew about Greyson because I’d confided in her about him shortly after she’d hired me to work for Women Rise. She’d also been present at the office for one of his many attempts to win me back over. She still laughed about how easily he managed to charm a group of staunch feminists to do his bidding. The way the entire office staff scrambled to find vases and a place for Greyson’s personal delivery of ten dozen long-stemmed red roses wasn’t something easily forgotten.

“Considering who his family is, he certainly has the means to be here,” I mused. “I just hadn’t expected him to come.”

“That man can’t take a hint. Where is he?” She pushed away a lock of sleek black hair that had fallen free from her updo as she searched the room.

I pointed blindly in a general direction over my right shoulder. She looked behind me for a few moments before recognition flashed across her face.

I thought about what his being here could mean. I didn’t have the luxury of entertaining his wiles today. Not here. I had a job to do. Networking with donors needed to be my focus, and I knew his presence would be a distraction I might not be able to keep at bay.

“God, Justine. I can’t have this right now. Not tonight.”

“Do you want me to tell him to leave?”

“No. It’s fine. I’ll figure something out.”

“Good. But whatever you decide to do, I think this cat and mouse game you’re playing isn’t doing you any good. I know you worry, but I’ve seen how you look at him. Maybe it’s time you stop avoiding him. Ten years can change a person, Harper. Just think about how much you’ve changed.”

“I don’t know. Maybe you’re right.”

“I’m always right, sweetie. You know that,” she added with a wink. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a sexy lawyer I need to cozy up to.”

Justine gracefully walked off in search of a date with Noah Jackson, leaving me to collect my thoughts. I looked back to where I’d seen Greyson, wondering if Justine was right. Perhaps I’d avoided him long enough. Deciding to confront the situation head-on, I moved in his direction.

I knew Greyson had already spotted me but he was making a good show of pretending otherwise. He didn’t appear to be with anyone and looked like he was trying to find someone. A younger version of myself wanted to believe he was looking for me, but the grown woman who remembered how he’d once crushed me knew better than to get my hopes up.

As I approached him, I took in his fitted, expensive black tuxedo over a crisp white shirt and platinum tie. It made him look even more broad-shouldered than usual. His hair was cropped short, leaving nothing to obstruct the view of his gorgeous face. If anything, it accentuated his strong jaw and prominent cheekbones. A shiver ran down my spine at the sight of him.

When he turned his head, his eyes locked on mine. I felt pinned beneath them and had to remember to put one foot in front of the other. His lips curved into a gorgeous, plush smile made for kissing. I suddenly found it hard to swallow.

A flash of the young love I once felt for him ricocheted in the depths of my heart. It was a love I’d convinced myself I had given up on, knowing that waiting for him to come back to me would cause me to lose myself entirely during a time when I’d already lost so much. Yet here he stood, appearing taller, broader, older. He watched me as if he knew what I was thinking, his expression full of something dangerous, possessive, and alive. He still made my heart flutter.

All those things, combined with the memory of a young girl’s emotions, only made him that much more appealing. I wondered if that appeal was messing with my brain or if what was building between us was bigger than I wanted to admit.

CHAPTER TWO

GREYSON

SINCE THE MOMENT I met Harper, she had the power to drop me to my knees. Time hadn’t altered that. She was so stunning that I couldn’t think straight, a reaction I seemed to have whenever she was around.

Tonight, her auburn hair was styled in loose curls cascading down her back in silky waves. Even from where I stood, I swore I could feel the warmth emitting from her very essence. She moved with devastating grace, her body wrapped in a black satin dress meant for sin. Those tempting curves had been my sin once upon a time. Taking her, then leaving her, had been the biggest mistake of my life. Nevertheless, here I was again, feeling that same intense lust overtake me. It was so forceful that it made me dizzy.

I sucked down a breath and took a few steps toward her, closing the remaining distance between us.

“Small world,” I remarked with a playful smile. I took her hand and brought it up to tenderly brush my lips over her delicate fingers.

“Small world indeed. It’s funny. I didn’t see your name on the guest list,” she noted, eyeing me suspiciously.

My hand migrated to her wrist, giving it a subtle squeeze before releasing her. “That’s because I wanted to surprise you. Did it work?”

“Oh, it worked alright.” Then, turning her head, she surveyed the room. “I didn’t think this was your kind of crowd.”

“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. God knows, I’m going to be in a world of trouble for being here tonight,” I admitted with a light laugh.

She cocked her head to the side, her blue eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Why is that?”

“My father is tired of being the Minority Whip, so he’s pushing to become the New York State Republican Senate Majority Leader after the next election—assuming they win the majority, which I think is doubtful in a blue state. I don’t think his party will look kindly on his son coming to a fundraising event for reproductive rights.”

The scowl on her face was fierce when she said, “So, why come?”

“I wanted to see you,” I answered matter-of-factly, acting as if I didn’t notice her cynical tone.

“Is that so?”

I suppressed a sigh, second-guessing my decision to be honest with my answer. My father and I were the complete opposite. He was a staunch conservative, while I leaned left of center. His votes never strayed from the party line—including the most recent State Senate vote on a package of bills aimed at protecting abortion seekers and providers. My father voted against it, and Harper knew this. I would be wise not to bring attention to my connection to him—especially here. I needed to distract her.

Glancing up at the stage, I noticed the band had finished their warmup and was about to strike up their first song. Taking the glass Harper was holding, I placed it on the bar.

“Please allow me the honor of the first dance, my lady,” I said with an exaggerated bow and a teasing wink.

Her irritated expression melted away to a smile. Then she laughed softly, and the sound reminded me of a time when we’d been young, carefree, and innocent—when she’d been mine.

However, instead of taking my offered hand, she stepped back.

“I’m sorry, Greyson. I can’t. While the band is playing, I need to be on the floor talking to donors. They’ll play for thirty minutes, and then we’ll break for our next speaker. Do you see that partially lit neon pink fist over there?” she asked, pointing to a wall of large panels placed together to make one large, wall-sized flat-screen. “I need to make the fist shatter the glass ceiling. I can’t do that if I spend all night dancing with you.”

“Just one dance,” I insisted, wrapping my arm around her waist and leading her to the dance floor.

“Greyson…” she warned.

I chuckled and pulled her against me just as the band’s female vocalist began to sing a cover of Annie Lennox’s “I Put A Spell On You.” Splaying my palm firmly against her lower back, I guided her into a slow dance.

“You look beautiful tonight.”

She blushed but tried to conceal it with a roll of her eyes.

“Stop that,” she scolded.

“You never could take a compliment. But, I guess some things never change.”

“Yet a lot of other things did change, Greyson.”

“Very true, but what truly matters remains the same,” I said with utmost sincerity, hoping she would actually hear me this time.

I felt a shiver run down her body, and I grinned in satisfaction. I knew I was getting to her, slowly breaking down those walls she tried so hard to hold up. I’d spent the past two months trying to tell her that my feelings for her never died—that she’d been the one who I foolishly allowed to get away.

But so far, she’d refused to listen to anything I said.

“That’s what you’ve been saying, but…” she trailed off, confusion evident in her eyes. She started to say something but seemed to hesitate.

“But, what?” I prodded.

Her body moved with mine to the music as I led her around the dance floor. Our feet shuffled in time effortlessly as if she were made to be dancing in my arms.

“Nothing,” she insisted. “This isn’t the time nor the place for serious discussions.”

“So when is the right time? I mean, you’ve been going to great lengths to avoid me. I’m here now with you in my arms. It’s only you and me, baby. Nobody is listening. If you have something to say, say it.”

She pressed her lips together in a tight line as a civil war waged in her eyes.

“Fine, Greyson. If you want to know, I’ll tell you. I just ask that you don’t overcomplicate what you’re about to hear. Tonight is too important, and I can’t allow my past to collide with the present, potentially screwing up everything I’m trying to do here.”

“I understand how important tonight is for you, Harper. I won’t do anything to mess it up.”

She still seemed cautious, and when she finally spoke, she sounded resigned.

“Things happened after you left. We were so young, and I…” She let the sentence linger as if she were collecting her thoughts. “I was only seventeen when you enlisted. You were gone, and I was alone. And I was pregnant.”

I froze, but not before I saw her flinch at the last word.

“I’m sorry, but did you just say you were pregnant?” I asked incredulously.

“Yes. I didn’t find out until after you left for basic training. My parents pushed me to get an abortion. I refused. In my young naiveté, I somehow thought a baby would be like having a piece of you. I also thought maybe it would mean you’d come back to me, even though I knew deep down that wasn’t possible. You were going away to be a soldier—to a life I wasn’t old enough to be a part of.”

I thought back to the day I’d left her ten years ago. I’d been reckless in my youth, living it up more than I should. My conservative father thought the Army was the answer—especially after I’d come home high as a kite in the middle of a Wednesday afternoon. He’d marched me straight down to the recruitment office, not caring one iota that I reeked of pot smoke, forcing me to enlist.

One week later, I left for Fort Benning to begin basic training. I didn’t know where I’d be after that, so I broke it off with Harper. I didn’t think it was fair to make her wait for me. Even if I wanted her to come with me, she couldn’t. She was a year younger and still in high school. She had her whole life in front of her, free to do as she wanted—or so I’d thought.

Pregnant. I’d left her alone and pregnant.

“You said you’d refused an abortion. Does that mean…” I couldn’t finish the question. Shock rendered me speechless as the idea that I might be a father slowly sank in.

“No, it’s not what you think. You—we—don’t have a child. I would have told you if that were the case, but I ended up having nothing to tell. Regardless of what my parents or I wanted, I had no choice but to terminate. The pregnancy was ectopic. I could have died if I didn’t abort.”

I stared almost disbelievingly, unable to comprehend what she’d endured while I’d been completely unaware. As I processed her words, I began moving our bodies into a slow dance once again.

“Harper…” I pulled her tighter against me, not caring about who was watching. Every pro-life politician in the country could be here and reporting back to my father for all I cared. Harper was all that mattered at that moment. I leaned in close to whisper in her ear. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I wouldn’t have been able to leave basic, but I would have figured out some way to help you through everything. You shouldn’t have had to go through it alone.”

“It’s fine, Greyson. It was a long time ago. Everything happens for a reason, right?”

“I came back after basic training. Did your father ever tell you?”

She sucked in a sharp breath, and a look of shock came over her face, but I continued, needing her to know exactly how much I thought of her over the years.

“I went to your house after I completed my ten weeks. I only had three days’ leave before stationing in Fort Bliss, but I had to see you. Your father answered the front door but refused to let me talk to you or tell me anything about you. He said you’d moved on and that I should too. Still, even after all the discipline taught in basic training, I was never one to follow directions. At least not back then. So, I called your house, but the phone number was disconnected.”

“You said it was right after you finished basic?”

“Yes.”

“That would have been around the time I had the abortion. It was a rough time for my parents and me. I was devastated about so many things and not speaking to them much—if at all. My parents also dumped the landline around that time, and we all switched to cell phones. Based on what you’re telling me, I wonder if that was a coincidence or by design. I didn’t know that…” she trailed off, her eyes becoming glassy. “I didn’t know you came back for me.”

“After the Army, life went on, but I could never forget you. There were women, but nobody serious. Something about them just never felt right.”

“I know what you mean,” she murmured.

“When I ran into you at The Stoneworks Foundation, I instantly knew why the other women didn’t seem to fit. It was because they weren’t you. I wanted you, Harper. Always. It was just you.”

I watched her as we moved ever so slowly across the dance floor, the beat of the music somehow matching the beat of my heart. Her expression went from astonishment to hopeful to sadness in a split second, but I also saw regret.

As if on a cue, the band changed songs. I instantly recognized the acoustic guitar rhythm as it rippled across the room. Soon, the lyrics to “Broken” by Seether began to sound.

I looked down at Harper, studying her face. Her eyes were wide. She blinked rapidly, almost as if she were fighting back tears, and I understood why.

Every teenage couple had a song. This had been ours. It became our song because it was playing on the radio when we had sex for the first time. We were an awkward, twisting mass of limbs in the backseat of my father’s Buick, but she’d been so trusting, giving me her virginity without an ounce of hesitation. She knew I loved her. In hindsight, I’m embarrassed about how I’d first taken her. She deserved so much better than the backseat of a car in Corona Park.

“That was one dance, Greyson. Thank you, but I have to go now,” Harper whispered and pulled away.

“Wait,” I said, reaching out to her.

She didn’t pull away again but let me guide her slowly back into my arms.

“Just one more,” she whispered the warning like she didn’t really mean it. But she knew what I was feeling—she felt it too.

I could barely breathe as the female vocalist sang. Her range was uncannily similar to Amy Lee’s, making the moment all too real. It brought me back to another time and another place. Even the smell of Harper was the same—that jasmine scent I’d never forget. While the song lyrics were sad and certainly unfitting for two teenagers in love, it was fitting for who we were today. For ten years, I’d been broken.

I just hadn’t known it.

A lump formed in my throat, and I swallowed, wanting to beat myself for wasting so much time. I should have tried harder to get in touch with her. Now, I worried that too many years had gone by.

“Harper, I know you don’t want to believe me, but I truly have spent the past decade regretting my choice to end our relationship. A part of me wishes I’d asked you to wait for me, but I also know how I was back then. I had no direction, and when I see how accomplished you are now, I think staying with me would have held you back. But you must know I’m not the same person I was then. I was eighteen years old with no future in sight. I—”

She silenced me by placing a finger on my lips.

“Shhh…don’t ruin this moment by talking about the past.”

We fell silent and moved to the music, her body moving with ease against mine. The song ended all too soon, and I didn’t want to let her go. When she began to pull away a second time, I didn’t hold her back. She had a job to do, and it was wrong of me to get in her way.

“Duty calls,” I said lightly, trying to break the intensity in the air.

“Yes, it does. I need to go work on lighting up the fist.”

“Can I get another dance later?”

“Maybe.” She said it so quietly that I barely heard her over the final guitar riff. She stared at me for a beat, her expression impenetrable. Then, without another word, she turned and walked away.

I must have stood there like a fool for another three minutes at least, stunned by the connection I still had to this woman. I shouldn’t have been surprised. It had always been there, but now it was burning brighter than the sun. I shook my head, forced myself to leave the dance floor, and headed to the bar.

“I need a fucking drink after that,” I muttered under my breath.

After ordering a Henry McKenna Single Barrel neat, I scanned the crowd until I spotted Harper. I watched her work the group for a while, completely in awe of her ability to move efficiently around the expansive ballroom, never lingering too long with one guest before moving on to the next.

She was beautiful—the whole package—and not just in appearance. It was her entire persona and the way she presented herself. There was so much goodness in her, and I wondered if she even knew it. I always knew she was destined for greatness, and tonight was proof.

The music stopped, and another speaker took the stage, but I barely heard a word of the speech. I was too focused on Harper. I never wanted her more than I did right then, to feel her pressed against me in another dance. I recalled the feeling of her tight little body, the way she moved with me in time to the music, and I began to envision more. Being with her again. Inside her. Hearing her scream my name. I could almost picture her just as she was in the back of my father’s Buick, eyes wide with desire. I wanted to see that look on her face now, but this time as a grown woman.

I looked up at the pink fist on the flat screen. It was more than three-quarters of the way lit, the lights barely grazing the curved knuckles. The sooner that fist shattered the glass ceiling, the sooner I could have Harper all to myself.

On impulse, I headed to the area where workers were accepting donations.

“How much more do you need to make that thing light up?” I asked the young girl behind the table.

She looked down at her computer screen, then back up at me.

“We are hoping to hit one hundred thousand tonight, and there’s about nineteen more to go!” she announced cheerfully.

“Oh, nineteen hundred isn’t too bad.”

“Oh no, sir. There’s nineteen thousand more to go. Not nineteen hundred.”

Nineteen thousand.

I nearly cringed. That amount would take a sizable chunk from the deposit I planned to make on a late model Sea Ray boat I’d been eyeing up at Montauk Marina.

“Would you like to donate, sir?” the girl prompted, eyeing the line of people standing behind me. “You can do it right here, or we have a website where you can donate anonymously through your smartphone.”

Fuck it.

Harper was more important than a boat. Without further hesitation, I pulled out my wallet.

“Does the website take credit cards?”

CHAPTER THREE

HARPER

THE ENTIRE BALLROOM erupted into cheers, causing me to pause the conversation I was having with Alexander Stone, the CEO of Stone Enterprise and founder of The Stoneworks Foundation. I turned around to see what the commotion was all about and saw the shattered glass ceiling. Bright pink lit up the flat screen, illuminating the entire room.

“Well done, Harper,” Alexander said.

I looked back at him, my mouth curving in an ear-splitting grin.

“Thank you!”

“I guess you don’t need a donation from Stone Enterprise after all.”

“It’s funny you should say that. I was just speaking with your wife,” I said knowingly, thinking about the conversation I’d just had with Krystina Stone about adoption rights for the LGBTQ. “She’d like The Stoneworks Foundation to help fund programs at Women Rise that offer guidance and legal counsel to LGBTQ couples looking to adopt. So anything we raise above our goal tonight could go to that.”

He offered me a wry smile.

“My wife always has an agenda,” he said with a chuckle. “I’ll head over to the donation table right now. If I don’t, Krystina will never let me hear the end of it.”

I laughed as he walked away and scanned the room for the heads of my partner organizations in this endeavor. They were gathered with their staff in celebration as well. I smiled to myself. Today was a good day.

The band took the stage for another set, starting with an upbeat tune to match the crowd’s excitement.

“Now that your work is complete, I believe you have more time for dancing,” said a low voice from behind me.

I slowly turned to see Greyson behind me. I smiled, feeling overcome with excitement from the jubilation that emitted throughout the room. Not waiting for me to respond, he grabbed me by the arm and twirled me onto the floor with the other dancers.

Another hour passed in what only seemed like five minutes. We danced and talked, our conversation jumping from one topic to the next. Some dances were fast while others were slow, but the slow dances differed from the first two we shared. There was this buzz in the air that made it seem like everything had a sexual undertone. The awkwardness from earlier was gone. Greyson’s flirtations were deliberate, as were his hands, which shamelessly roamed over my back and hips. He made all the little hairs on my body stand on end, and my nipples went painfully hard every time I pressed against him. My body seemed to hum to life with only a single look from him.

After a while, we both needed a break and headed to the bar. Once our drinks came, Greyson turned to me and leaned in close to my ear.

“Room twelve-ten. Fifteen minutes,” he whispered. Then he pressed a plastic card to my palm before leaving me alone and slack-jawed with a keycard to a hotel room in my hand.

As I stared down at the black plastic, my heart thudded loudly in my ears. I wasn’t naïve. I knew what the invitation meant without him even saying it.

I can’t go to his room. Or can I?

I managed to bury the past for a while tonight, but I wasn’t sure if I could take the next step with Greyson. Overwhelming panic consumed me. I searched the room for Justine. I needed a friendly ear—a sounding board to help me work through this—but she was nowhere to be found.

Dammit!

I took a long swig of pear martini number two. I wasn’t a big drinker, so having already consumed a martini and a couple of glasses of champagne, this one was going straight to my head. I set the glass down on the bar, knowing I needed a clear head. I still had strong feelings for Greyson that had never died with time. Tonight had been fun with him, but I was flirting with danger.

After ten minutes of indecision, I knew what I had to do. I couldn’t bury my feelings for him any longer. Justine was right. Greyson and I had left too much unfinished.

MY HANDS TREMBLED as I fumbled to insert the keycard into the slot of the hotel room door. When I entered, I found more than just the average hotel room. Greyson had reserved a suite, complete with a sitting area and separate bedroom. Music played softly in the background.

Greyson stood near the couch, and the entire space seemed consumed by his presence. He’d removed his tuxedo jacket, leaving it tossed haphazardly on the back of a settee. His tie was loosened at the neck, and one hand rested in his pants pocket while the other ran anxiously over the top of his head. His presence pummeled me, so powerful and raw, and energy seemed to crawl up the walls.

His eyes showed hesitations as he took me in, but there was also desire.

“I’m glad you came,” he said huskily.

Memories—flashes of another time—ricocheted through the depths of my being, causing a shiver to race down my spine. I saw us as we once were, a fumbling ball of passionate limbs.

“I’m glad, too,” I breathed.

“Strawberry?” he asked, pointing toward the coffee table.

My gaze followed his finger toward a platter of strawberries, each artfully arranged to surround a bowl of whipped cream. Champagne had been poured, the little bubbles slowly rising to the surface of two crystal glasses.

I hadn’t expected this. It was seduction in every sense of the word and so different from the Greyson I once knew. It was what he’d been saying all along—that he was different now.

“I, um…” I faltered, words just seeming to ramble from my mouth. “Sure.”

I felt rooted to the spot, undecided on my next move. But, as it turned out, I didn’t have to decide because Greyson did it for me. He was already moving closer, possession in each measured stride. He leaned in and pressed the gentlest kiss to the curve of my neck. His spicy and masculine scent clouded my senses. I trembled when he reached up, his fingers softly brushing along the side of my cheek. I dared to look into his eyes; gray pools swirled with something fierce.

“Let’s sit down.”

He led me over to the couch, and we sat. I stared at the plate of strawberries, my mind in a daze. I blinked once, then twice, trying unsuccessfully to break free from the spell he seemed to have me under.

“Greyson,” I began, attempting to find some sense of balance. But anything I might have said was silenced by the strawberry he brought to my lips.

“Taste,” he demanded.

Oh, God…

So much more was laced in that one little command. My already pounding heart began to race faster and faster. Every single dirty fantasy I’d ever had about Greyson over the years wanted to come to life right here in this room. I thought I might combust just from the images conjuring in my head. I needed to rein it in—to try harder. My heart demanded it or risked being shattered all over again.

Except this time, I wasn’t feeling schoolgirl emotions. I was a woman with complex ideologies and sentiments. If I lost him again, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to recover.

“Greyson, I know you said things would be different, but—”

“It killed me to walk away from you,” he interrupted. Stark vulnerability oozed from his truth. My throat tightened with an onslaught of emotions. “If nothing happens here tonight, I need you to know that much, at least.”

“You took a piece of my heart when you left.”

“And I left my whole heart with you,” he confessed, grief written in his expression. I nearly broke from his words as his head dropped to rub his nose against the side of my face.

“You say you’ve changed, but I’ve changed too,” I began again, ready to lay it all out on the table. There were parts of me I’d tucked away, hid from, and ignored, but they would always belong to him. He needed to know how badly he could hurt me if he walked away again.

My mouth felt dry. I unconsciously ran my tongue over my lips to moisten them so I could speak. Greyson’s eyes dropped and followed the path of my tongue before finally making their way back up to mine. As I was about to speak, his lips crashed down on mine.

I didn’t even attempt to protest, surrendering to his hot, merciless kiss. Our tongues quickly found each other, his more aggressive than mine. This was not the kiss of a high school boy I once knew. This was so much more. It had the ferocity of a hot-blooded male taking complete and utter control.

“I never meant to hurt you. I’m so sorry,” he murmured feverishly against my lips.

Tears sprang to my eyes, confusion winding through the very depths of my soul. Layer by layer, he was stripping me bare, peeling away the hurt to expose the love I’d kept buried for far too long.

“I would have waited for you,” I whispered between kisses.

“I couldn’t let that happen, Harper. You deserved more. So much more.”

His hard contours pressed against the softness of my body, and I found myself reaching up to thread my hands through his cropped hair. Greyson groaned when I tugged on the short ends, pulling me tighter against him. I’m not sure when or how it happened so quickly, but we went from kissing to fervently groping each other in a matter of minutes.

My fingers found the buttons of his shirt, and I worked my way down, the desperate need to feel his bare flesh under my palms becoming all-consuming. He caressed a hand down my back, along the zipper of my dress, and settled at my waist. Shivers raced down my spine, wishing he’d tug the zipper down. He made me want things that I’d never wanted with anyone else. Every time he was near, I felt an unexplainable connection between us, like an invisible line that remained unchanged over time.

Greyson pulled back slightly, leaving us both panting. He was a disheveled mess, his hair sticking up wildly. His shirt was twisted, only having been partially removed. His chiseled abdomen rippled as he shrugged impatiently out of the rest. Once it was off, he reached for me again, but I froze when I caught sight of a tattoo. It was high on his right arm, a thick line with jagged edges wrapping around his bicep up to his shoulder like a snake. In the center near his shoulder, the word Broken was scripted in a tribal font.

My eyes widened in shock. I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. I shifted my gaze to meet his, terrified of what I’d find but still desperate to see his expression. He pressed his forehead to mine. I almost couldn’t breathe.

“When did you get that?” I whispered, fearful of what his answer might be but needing an explanation, nonetheless.

“Seven years ago. It was after I completed my three-year commitment to the Army and before I started working security at Stone Enterprise. I told you, Harper. I’ve never stopped thinking about you. I’ve never stopped loving you,” he said in a voice low and throaty with emotion.

Loving me.

Greyson just admitted that he still loved me after all this time.

I clutched a hand over my drumming heart. All the oxygen seemed to vacuum from the room. I would have accused him of lying if he’d said that to me a few weeks ago. I would have assumed it was some fairytale designed to dupe me into dropping my panties. I pulled back a few inches to study his face. I saw the torment in his eyes, but there was also devotion and love. I couldn’t doubt his words. He was speaking the truth.

I choked back a sob.

“Greyson, I…”

“I don’t want to live in the past anymore, Harper. I want what I have here. Right now. I want to be with you.”

Elation raced through my veins like a potent drug. He was all around me, his presence thick and consuming in a way only he could be. It had been so long since I’d wanted—and I mean, really wanted—anyone. I’d fantasized so many times about what it would be like to make love to Greyson again, but never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d have the opportunity.

I closed my eyes as he pressed soft kisses down my neck. He exuded testosterone, drugging my senses until I was high on him. I soared, my blood heating, my flesh on fire.

When he brought his lips to mine, he hovered over them, barely touching. My lips parted, and we breathed together, slowly inhaling each other’s need. I’d never loved anyone the way I had loved him, and at that moment, I realized I never stopped. It was still as potent as it had been ten years ago. My body, the shell that had lain dormant for ten years, had finally awakened because of Greyson. My Greyson. Only he could make me feel this alive.

I gave in and felt my body melt into him, burying all fears of a broken heart and letting go of every ounce of resistance.

CHAPTER FOUR

GREYSON

I SENSED the moment she surrendered. Her cheeks flushed, and her eyes darkened, the color turning a deep blue and brimming with possibilities. I knew I should take my time despite the electric heat burning through my system. I had planned to take her to dinner first, then maybe to see a show on Broadway. I had wanted to give her romance like I never did all those years ago.

But then tonight happened. After feeling her warm body pressed against mine and her hips gyrating against me on the dance floor, I threw any thought of taking things slow right out the window.

Now, I could barely believe she was here in my arms. What Harper and I had was nothing but pure and good. It was real. I’d missed her, and I had missed this.

“It’s been too long. Just too damn long,” I whispered against her mouth before running my tongue over her perfect lips, demanding she open to me. I kissed her. Tenderly. Passionately. Desperately. I wanted her to feel everything I felt—to feel the relief from finally having something we’d denied ourselves for so long and to bridge the distance time had left between us.

My arms banded tightly around her, and I hauled her to my chest, carrying her tight body to the bedroom. I never took my lips from hers, guiding her as I plundered her mouth. Once there, I carefully set her back on her feet, turning her around to press her back against my chest. I held her close, palm splayed across her firm abdomen as I leaned in to graze her ear. My breath was hot on her neck as she tilted her head so I could nibble down to her shoulder. A shiver rocked her body, and she moaned.

“Greyson…” she sighed and tried to turn to face me. I stopped her, keeping her back firmly against me. I wasn’t in a hurry. I wanted to savor every moment with her.

“I don’t want to be rushed. I want to take my time and make you feel good.”

“I need to touch you,” she persisted.

“We’ll get there. But, first, let me relearn your body. I want to feel every curve, to memorize you with my hands. With my tongue. I want to taste every inch of you.”

She shuttered again as I moved my hand up her back to the zipper of her dress. Slowly, I tugged it down to expose the delicate curve of her spine. Then, looping a finger under each strap at her shoulder, I slid them down until the silk pooled at her feet.

I pressed my lips to her shoulder, trailing soft kisses along the hollow at the side of her throat as I reached around to cup her breasts through the black strapless bra. The material was rough yet soft against my palms, feeling nothing like the basic cotton she had worn all those years ago. What she wore now was lace. It was sexy. Intimate. And all woman.

I groaned my approval as my cock strained in my pants. I thought I might come on the spot. I restrained the mad desire I felt for her, forcing myself to do exactly as I’d promised, and went through the motions of memorizing every delicious inch of her body. My mouth moved across her shoulders, working my way down her back and over her hips.

More lace. And a thong, no less.

“You’re unbelievable. You don’t know what you do to me,” I uttered as I cupped her ass and raked my tongue over the curve of one cheek, then the other, before moving down and up each of her legs. “Your taste. Your scent.”

Working back up her body, I finally turned her to face me. Pure lust thrummed through my veins, and I felt my jaw tighten, desperate to see everything underneath the few scraps of black, sexy lace. I reached around to her back with slow, purposeful grace and unclasped her bra. Perfect mounds and pink nipples spilled free.

“Oh, God,” she gasped.

I cupped her neck and ran my tongue down the base of her throat, over her clavicle, until I captured one hardened peak in my teeth. I relished her startled cry as I rolled the other nipple between my thumb and finger. I lured her back toward the bed until the backs of her knees hit the mattress. Legs buckling beneath her, she sat down.

“It’s just you and me, baby. That’s all it was ever supposed to be. I’m sorry for leaving you. Now, lie back. I’m going to take care of you,” I told her.

She hesitated, her eyes fraught with an emotion I couldn’t identify, and my stomach sank. I nearly swore, hoping like hell she wasn’t having second thoughts now.

“Harper, don’t look at me like that. Don’t tell me to stop.”

“Then stop apologizing. I don’t want to be confused about the past. I want this, Greyson. I need it—I need you. No more talking. Just touch me, please.”

“No talking? I’m sure I can think of something to keep my mouth occupied,” I teased as I coaxed her back, eager to remove that final barrier of clothing so I could taste her. If she didn’t want to remember the past, that was okay. I didn’t want the chains of history to hold us down any more than she did.

Sliding down the lace thong, inch by beautiful inch, I tossed it aside and dropped to my knees between her legs. Grabbing her ankles, I pushed her legs apart, carefully assessing her expression as I did. Desire pooled deep in her ocean blue eyes, the delicate blush moving from her cheeks to her breasts.

Tearing my gaze from her face, I allowed myself finally to look down at her now exposed sex.

So fucking gorgeous.

I slid the pad of one finger gently over her clit. Her back immediately arched, and a gasp wrenched from her throat.

“Oh!”

I parted her folds and slowly sank one finger inside her heated well, a sharp hiss escaping me.

“God, you’re exquisite. So wet. So ready. So damned tight.” I slid another finger in, stroking her inner walls while my thumb traced slow, leisurely circles over that pulsing bundle of nerves.

She gasped again, and I sank low, unable to go another minute without tasting her.

“Tell me you want me, baby. Tell me you want this.”

“Yes, yes! I want it,” she unashamedly begged.

Wedging my shoulders between her legs, I rested my face against her inner thigh and inhaled her sweet scent. Dipping down, I swiped my tongue over her entrance in one long lick. She tasted as good as she smelled.

Her hands reached down and grasped the ends of my hair, searching for something to hang onto as I explored every nook and crevice of her most intimate parts. I dipped into her core before laving her oh-so-sweet spot, making her writhe beneath me. I pressed my tongue flat against her, rolling until that beautiful nub began to pulse. It was only a matter of time before she came apart.

“That’s it. Let go, baby. Let me taste you on my tongue. I want you to feel it. I want you to feel everything I was meant to make you feel.”

“Oh, God. Please!”

She pushed up against my mouth. I glanced up to find her head lolling from side to side, auburn hair splayed out on the bed, desperate for the release that was so near. Harper, without inhibition, was intoxicating. I could drown in her. Her hips bucked, but I held her still, bringing her to new heights.

Her body stiffened, and she inhaled sharply. When she came, she screamed out my name, and it was the most glorious thing I’d ever heard.

I toed off my shoes and shed my pants, leaving only my boxer briefs in place. I eased her body up the bed and blanketed her with my weight, sinking us deeper into the mattress. My throbbing cock pressed against her abdomen as I worked my hand up her thigh, peppering light kisses along her collarbone.

“Do you feel how hard you make me?” I whispered.

She looked into my eyes, and I saw something shift.

“I feel you, Greyson. And I want you to know that I’m yours, just as I was ten years ago. I’m trusting you with my heart again. Promise you’ll be careful with it.”

I had the power to crush her. I knew this, yet I wasn’t concerned about it because I knew it would never happen. Not again. There was something about the way she curved into me, the way she smelled like jasmine and sunshine, that made everything else in life fall away. She was the only woman I could ever remember wanting to hold on to for more than a fleeting moment, and I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that I still loved her. We belonged together. She might not realize it now, but I trusted her with my heart just as much as she trusted me with hers.

“Harper, I love you. I always have—I promise you that. I’ll stop now if you want to slow things down, but baby, I’ve never wanted anything more than I want you right now.”

She reached up to cup my face.

“Then what are you waiting for?” she asked.

Not wanting to spend another moment hesitating, I got up from the bed and opened the nightstand drawer to remove the box of condoms I had placed there earlier.

“Were you planning this all along, Mr. Hughes?” she teased, but there was a hint of suspicion in her question as well.

I chuckled.

“I know how it looks, but no. I shot over to the corner store while you were schmoozing donors. After dancing with you, I figured I should grab them just in case.”

I shed my boxers and made quick work of the condom. Before climbing back onto the bed, I took a moment to appreciate her nude body spread out before me. Harper was like a feast I couldn’t wait to devour. She was always beautiful, but a naked, luminous Harper was something poets could write sonnets about.

I crawled up her body, and she bent her legs, cradling me. Positioning myself at her entrance, I pushed forward, barely sliding through the arousal between her lips. Her slender arms clung to my neck encouragingly, and I drove all the way in. I sucked in a gasp so hard it made my lungs hurt. The effect she had on me hit me like an earthquake. Lacing my fingers through her hair, I captured her mouth with mine.

“Greyson,” she whimpered as my forehead rocked against hers.

“Do you remember what I told you the first time you gave yourself to me?”

When she responded, her voice was thick with emotion.

“You said I was beautiful, and you loved me.”

“I meant what I said then, just as much as I mean it now. I love you, Harper.”

“I love you too, Greyson. I’ve always known. I was just afraid to admit it.”

I continued to push into her, our words hushed as our bodies moved together.

“Nobody has ever fit me the way you do. Night after night for ten long years, you crept into my dreams. I dreamed about touching you. Kissing you. Fucking you. I let go of you once. I promise I won’t ever do it again,” I declared, the words a breath of a whisper against her lips.

She moved her hips, matching my thrusts as she gripped my shoulders. It was as if she couldn’t get close enough, and it was a feeling I understood all too well. I felt it too. I had to remind myself to go slow when every fiber of my being wanted to fuck her hard and claim her as mine once and for all.

Her nails raked down my back to my ass. I felt their bite against my skin as she made those little gasping noises that made me impossibly hard. Nothing had ever felt or sounded so damn good. She was perfect. There was just the right amount of give-and-take as I drove into her deep and hard. The air in the room seemed to come alive—the energy and the connection the most genuine thing I’d ever felt. I could worship her all night long.

I tried to keep some modicum of control, but it was to no avail. I could feel her desire building as she moaned my name. Our bodies were slick with sweat, pleasure bound, and full of need. When I felt her start to fall apart again, I pinned her arms above her head. I plunged into her, possessing her, the tightening of her perfect body making me feel like I could live forever.

My body raced, my dick pulsing with need, hard and desperate. Hunger ravaged my veins, and every muscle in my body tightened, rippling with an unbearable force. I slammed home, and my world flashed white. So bright. A blinding light that left me quaking in her arms.

We lay there panting for what seemed like hours, but it was probably only minutes. After a time, I rolled off her, and she snuggled into the crook of my arm. Her arm draped across my torso, so warm and familiar. It was where she was meant to be.

She looked up at me, her eyes searching for something. What it was, I didn’t know. I reached out and brushed my thumb across the bottom of her swollen lip. Old hopes mingled with new ones filled my mind. They were thoughts of what once was and what could be.

When she reached out and pinched my arm, I jolted. It wasn’t a hard pinch, but it surprised me nonetheless.

“What was that for?”

“Just making sure you’re really here. Is this real, Greyson? Are you really with me?”

“I was a fool to walk away ten years ago, but I’m here now. This is as real as it gets.”

I hope you enjoyed BROKEN, a short spin-off of THE STONE SERIES, an international bestselling billionaire romance. Harper and Greyson are side characters in this steamy five-book series that follows the epic and unforgettable saga of Krystina Cole and Alexander Stone.

Click HERE to start reading.

About the Author

Dakota Willink is an award-winning contemporary romance author from New York. She loves writing about damaged heroes who fall in love with sassy and independent females. Her books are character-driven, emotional, and sexy, yet written with a flare that keeps them real. With a wide range of published books, a magazine publication, and the Leave Me Breathless World under her belt, Dakota’s imagination is constantly spinning new ideas. To find out the latest, visit www.dakotawillink.com.

THE CABIN BETWEEN US

DANI RENÉ

CALANDRA

COOL AIR HITS me the moment I step off the train. The din of the city engulfs me as I make my way up the steps. It’s been so long since I’ve been here that even the chatter of passengers assaults my ears violently. I never wanted to come back here, to see the town that stole my heart and then spit me out like an old piece of gum.

But I needed to return. My mother’s wishes brought me all the way back to the Big Apple. When I hit the sidewalk, I flag down a yellow cab. Like a tourist, I feel out of my depth with the busyness of New York.

“East River Apartments, please,” I say as I slip into the back seat of the cab. He nods before pulling out into the crowded street. Nothing’s changed since I last saw the metropolis. I’ve always loved it, but the day I turned eighteen, I told my mother I’d be moving to LA. I wanted nothing more than to become an actress, to land a leading role in some big Hollywood blockbuster. But when I got there, I found it harder than I’d anticipated.

As we weave through the bustling streets, I can’t help but wonder if things would be different if I’d stayed. The city looks exactly the same, and with every corner we pass, memories take hold, reminding me of the day I decided to walk out on the one man who owned my heart.

It was a mistake to leave, but he never came for me. I wanted him to follow, even though I knew he wouldn’t. I wanted him to tell me he loved me, even though I knew I should’ve said it first. My stubborn nature held me back, and my independence cost me the relationship.

By the time we reach the apartment building, which overlooks beautiful Central Park, I’m anxious, my stomach twisted in knots at the memories this city brings back. Once I’m out of the vehicle with my suitcase beside me, I look up, taking in the skyscraper, realizing that right at the top, my mother awaits.

Sighing, I push forward and make my way through the doors. It’s now or never. I know if I had refused to come back, my mother would never have let me forget this. So, I find myself back in New York, coming back to the apartment I grew up in.

As the elevator lifts me to the top floor, I wonder just why she decided this was the weekend I needed to come home. My father’s death was hard on both of us, but her choice to sell the cabin upstate came out of nowhere. She knows how much I love that place, and her announcement about putting it on the market shocked me.

When I told her I’d be home to help her oversee the movers packing up the place, she jumped at the suggestion. Normally, she needed to be in charge, but after our talk, I have a feeling she’s up to something, and it’s not going to take me long to figure out what it is.

My chest tightens at the thought of not being at the cabin on our summer vacations. Even though I haven’t visited in almost five years, that little home has a place in my heart that nobody could ever replace. Although, what I haven’t told Mom is that the cabin was where Kolton and I first had sex. It was also the last place I saw Dad before he died. Everything poignant in my life happened there, and now she’s giving it away to someone else.

I can’t be selfish and expect her to keep something that brings her heartache, but maybe, just maybe, I can talk her into selling it to me. I can get a loan; I can pay it off. Sighing as the silver doors slide open and deposit me in the hallway, I take a deep breath and steel myself for my mother’s snarky comments. If I’m going to pull this off, I need to show confidence and not whine like a teenager, which is something she’s told me time and again I sound like.

My mother is hard work, but I love her. And I’m about to prove to her that I’m all grown up.

KOLTON

THE DOOR SWINGS OPEN, and my chest tightens. She’s breathtaking even though she looks like she’s about to skin me alive the moment her eyes land on mine. I never thought I’d see her again. She had dreams of making it big, but now that she’s here, I realize that something went wrong. When Calandra walked out, she promised never to return. Yet here she is, standing in front of me in her mother’s foyer.

“What are you doing here?” Her biting words are drenched in ice.

What she doesn’t know is what I’ve done in the past few years since she left. She got on that plane and never said goodbye. The scathing look in her eyes makes me grin, which I know will annoy her even more.

“Your mother and I have been spending time together since I was the only one left to help her through the tough times,” I respond, shoving by her without another word. There isn’t too much luggage, and I wonder if Cally is planning on leaving again after we pack up the cabin.

“We don’t need you here.” Calandra speaks from behind me, but I don’t turn to look at her. Instead, I ignore her, moving through the apartment toward the kitchen, where I open the fridge and pull out a beer. The click of her suitcase wheels causes me to glance over my shoulder. I didn’t offer her any help, which I know will have rage burning through her veins.

I can practically feel the heat from her as she seethes through clenched teeth. Her delicate hands fist at her sides, and I take a long sip of my drink before I offer her a smile. “Your mother needs me here, and if you can’t deal with that, why don’t you go back to La La Land where every angel is a devil in disguise?”

“Don’t you dare tell me what my mother—”

“Kolton.” Eleanor’s voice comes from the hallway. Seconds later, she glides into the room as if she’s floating on air. “I’m so glad you could help me out today.” She swishes through the vast space toward me and grips my shoulders. Pulling me toward her, she places a kiss on each cheek.

Fire and venom flare from Calandra’s gaze, hitting me right in the chest. She was the one girl I loved, and when she stole my heart, she never turned back. I thought it was forever, but at nineteen, we were on different paths toward very different futures.

“I was just dropping by to make sure everything was okay,” I tell Eleanor. My attempt at ignoring her daughter isn’t working because when my eyes drift upward, they lock on the beautiful gray that always reminded me of the day we met.

There had been a storm rolling in, slow and steady, and the clouds had hovered overhead for so long I’d thought they would never break. The moment they did, all hell broke loose as the students ran for cover. And there she was. In the midst of a booming thunderstorm, Calandra came walking through the quad in nothing more than a short denim skirt and white tank top that was slowly becoming more transparent with every second.

“Is your driver ready for me?”

“Yes, Eleanor,” I tell her. “If you need anything else, let me know.”

She turns to her daughter, a smile plastered on her lips as she says, “I’ll be back after my appointment, and we can go over all the details of your visit then.”

And with that, her mother is out the door, and I’m left in the kitchen where I first kissed Calandra. The living room beyond is where she gave me the first of many blowjobs, and the lush throw rug in front of the fireplace is where I licked her sweet pussy until she screamed my name. That was her first orgasm from someone other than herself.

“Why are you in my home?”

“Your home?” I ask, my brow arching to my hairline in shock at her words. She’s never claimed this apartment as her home. Yes, she grew up here, but I knew her wants and dreams. She had stars in her eyes and thought of New York as the ugly sister to the glitz of Hollywood.

“Yes, my mother, my home.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest, the motion forcing me to drop my gaze and take her in. Her blouse is filmy, black lace under sheer-looking fabric. Her cleavage beckons; my mouth waters. “Stop it, Kolton.”

“Stop what?” Lifting my gaze, I lock my stare on her big, steel eyes. There’s still a wildness to her. And I still want to get trapped in the storm that she is. It’s been a long time since I saw the lightning that dances behind her tempestuous orbs.

“You know what you’re doing, and I don’t like it,” she spits back. Frustration laces every word, which only makes me smile harder. I took pleasure in making her angry because that’s when our bodies would fuse with passion that burned me from the inside out. I craved her with a hunger I’ve never felt for any other woman.

“From what I remember, you always loved what I did to you,” I counter, tipping the bottle toward her before taking a long draw of the cool liquid. But even as it fizzles down my throat, it doesn’t chill the heat slowly building along with my need for her.

Calandra huffs before she spins on her heel and makes her way down the hall. The bedroom door slams loudly, the sound bouncing off the walls as it reaches me in the living room. I can’t stop smiling when I pull out my phone and tap out a message to Eleanor.

CALANDRA

THREE HOURS TRAPPED in a car with Kolton is not my idea of fun. At least, not anymore. Even though he’s still as hot as he was when I was eighteen, I can’t allow myself to recall all those nights we spent looking at the stars. I don’t want to reminisce about how he was my first everything, or how he promised to be my last. I can’t remember that he stole my heart and broke it. Once it was shattered, he left me to pick up the pieces and try to make something of my life.

For years, I believed we were made for each other. And then the truth hit me right in the face. I saw it in his eyes when I walked into his apartment that night. When I watched him kiss someone else while looking me right in the eye. And he didn’t run after me. No. He allowed me to race through the streets, crying as my heart broke into a million pieces. And when I got on the plane, he didn’t come to say goodbye.

“Are you looking forward to seeing the cabin again?” he asks. Every rasp of his voice ignites need inside me. Just like when I was younger. I had always crushed on him, and when he asked me out, I was elated.

“No.”

I can practically feel him smiling. Kolton always took it upon himself to drive me crazy. He told me he loved the thunder that I exuded. I want to slap him. To make him feel the hurt I felt when he didn’t come to me. And even though he smells good, I have to focus on the reason he’s driving me up here, because Mommy dearest said that it’s a surprise and Kolton was in charge.

“The cabin sold quickly.” He speaks again, which only annoys me more. When I asked my mother if I could buy it, she said it was already signed over. All I had to do was empty it. Pack away memories that will forever stick with me.

“Why do you care so much, Kolton? You’re not part of my family. And to be honest, I don’t think you should even be here.”

“You’d be surprised just how much I’m part of this family.”

“What do you even mean?” I know he’s only trying to force me to talk to him by speaking in riddles. And that grates at me. The cabin isn’t far, which means thankfully I’ll be out of the car soon enough, and I won’t have to be so close to him. As much as I want to deny it, he still affects me.

“You’ll see.” That’s all he says before we’re left with no more words to spew at each other.

Even with the sounds of the radio filling the silence between us, the tension is thick, unyielding, as we turn onto the dirt road. Seconds later, the cabin comes into view. It looks just like it always has—like home.

The moment Kolton kills the engine, I push open the door and exit the vehicle, needing to inhale fresh air instead of his intoxicating, manly cologne. I grab my overnight bag from the back seat and leave him at the car. Pulling out the key, I unlock the cabin door and push it open. The familiar, musty scent assaults me, and a memory of the time Kolton brought me here to consummate our relationship hits me square in the face. My chest hurts with the heartache of knowing we’re no longer that—a couple.

Inside, I try my best to ignore Kolton, but he’s everywhere. The cabin isn’t massive, and the rooms are cozy at best, and Kolton takes up every square inch of the place. There are boxes everywhere, and I head up the steps to the loft and the bedroom where Kolton and I first had sex.

Tears burn my eyes when I remember that night. The gentleness with which he worked me over again and again. I never thought a first time could be so magical, but he did it; he made sure I found pleasure under his touch.

Swiping at my face, I blink away the sadness and go back downstairs, where I notice Kolton moving boxes around and pulling the TV cabinet away from the wall. Deciding to help him, I move closer, but the moment I do, he tugs backward, knocking me onto the sofa.

He spins around, shock lighting his face as he hurries toward me. Luckily, the sofa is soft, comfortable. Kolton reaches for me, his hands gripping my waist.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he says in a rush, but his foot tangles in the cables, and he flops beside me, making me laugh out loud. He tugs me closer to make sure I’m okay, which has me practically crawling in his lap. And as much as I know I should push him away, I don’t.

I can’t.

Because this is exactly where I want to be.

He’s warm, and the possessive hold he has on my hips makes my body come alive and heat pool between my thighs. It’s been so long. Far too long. Kolton is all man, tall and broad, with toned muscles and a tapered waist that leads to thick, muscled thighs.

He’s everything a man should be.

And I’m on his lap, taking note of every hard ridge and each of those deep dips.

“Thank you, I’m okay,” I tell him, but my voice comes out in a whisper laced with need. I want to cringe, but I know the moment I make a move, he’ll know he has this power over me.

“Are you?” he asks then, drawing me out of the cloud of lust and into the cold, heartbreaking present. Am I okay? No. I’m not. I’m still broken. From the moment I realized he wasn’t coming after me until now, as I stand here in front of him.

“I’ve never been okay, and I doubt I will be again.” The honesty in my voice causes him to go still. This is the first time since that night we’ve spoken about our feelings. I didn’t want to hear his fake apologies and lame-ass excuses, so instead of hearing him out, I ran.

KOLTON

TENSION GRIPS ME. It holds me fucking hostage, and I know I can’t walk away from her again. How the fuck I did it the first time is beyond me. Seeing her here, in this same room where I felt her for the first time, is jarring. I know she feels it, too, because the way she’s looking at me right now is hunger laced with desire and drenched in the heartache she so clearly feels.

“I fucked up, Cally,” I tell her honestly. I know I did. There’s no denying I should’ve run after her that night. But then again, I should’ve never let her get on that fucking flight in the first place.

“Yeah, you did,” she whispers, her gray gaze locked on mine.

My body is inches from hers, the heat of her scorching me, but I don’t move away because it feels like I need this. I want to be burned so I can pay for my sins. After all these years, she still feels the same. She still feels like warmth and love, affection and need. My hands grip her hips, holding her against me. I want to pull her closer, to keep her above me, make her find the pleasure I know I can give her.

“Is there any way you can forgive me? Let me make it up to you and explain what really happened that night.” My voice is thick with emotion. The pain of seeing her walk out on me is etched inside my heart. It was as if time had taken a sharp blade and scored her hate on every inch of me, and I was never the same again. I waited for months, but she didn’t come back. We were both too stubborn to apologize or allow the explanation that was so needed to be spoken.

“Are you going to tell me it was a mistake? That you tripped and fell, and her lips caught you?” Cally retorts hotly, and my fingers twitch with the need to dip inside her and make that feisty mouth moan instead of sassing me.

But I shake my head, focusing on the fact that she’s here, and she can’t leave, so I take my chance and speak. “I wasn’t drunk. I didn’t make a mistake. And no, I didn’t trip and fall on her lips. I did it because I was afraid,” I admit.

“Afraid?” Her brow arches, her eyes widen, and the corner of her mouth tips upward into a sardonic grin. Disbelief is painted on her beautiful face.

“My father had pulled me into the office only hours before that kiss,” I tell her. “And he spoke to me, telling me about what he expected of me. Then he asked me if I thought of proposing to you because he didn’t want a single playboy to run his company. He asked me if I loved you.”

Her mouth falls open, but nothing comes out. She doesn’t say a word, and I realize just how stupid I was back then. I was young, immature, and even though I knew I loved her, I couldn’t bring myself to say it. I wanted nothing more than to keep her as mine, but actually muttering those words, confessing my feelings, was unheard of. At least to me.

“What did you tell him?” she finally asks, her eyes turning glassy, and I’m sure she’s about to cry, but I know Calandra. She’s strong. She won’t show her emotion until she truly can’t hide it anymore.

“I told him I didn’t know,” I admit. “I wanted to say yes. In my mind and heart I was convinced I loved you. I knew there was never going to be another girl for me, but fear held me back, and I walked out of his office with the order to tell you that I needed to move on.”

Cally blinks, and salty emotion trickles down her flushed cheeks. Soft pink glittering against the pain that falls from her eyes.

“My father would’ve taken everything from me, and back then, he was my fucking hero. I thought he was always right.” She doesn’t move when I reach for her, my thumb and index finger gripping her chin as I pull her closer. “But I realized too late that he was wrong.”

Her mouth is inches from mine. The heat of her body engulfs me. The sweet scent of berries wafts from her, and I can practically taste her when she whispers, “What was he wrong about?”

Every nerve in my body is sparking, alight with the need to have her. To finally claim her like I should’ve that night. To tell her just how much I love her. But before I can utter a response, her lips brush against mine, and all the restraint that was holding me back snaps.

Our mouths fuse in a heated kiss. Her tongue seeks mine, and I dip inside her, tasting her sweetness that I recall from years gone by. She hasn’t changed. Her flavor is still the only aphrodisiac I need. My dick hardens against my zipper, needing to feel her warmth once more.

A whimper tumbles from her mouth, and I steal it as mine. I take every sound she makes, and I devour them along with her beautiful, plump lips. My hands trail down her back, gripping her ass to pull her closer toward me. Her hips roll, pressing her covered center against my hardened cock.

“If you keep doing that, I doubt my control would last very long,” I tell her between kisses.

A small smile curls her lips. “Oh? And what exactly does that entail?”

“You and me naked, and you screaming my name over and over again until you’re a trembling mess on that mattress upstairs.”

“I don’t just take my clothes off for anyone,” she sasses me. “Only someone who can be honest with their feelings.” The way she looks at me makes every inch of my body, inside and out, come alive. My heart stutters, then begins racing, banging against my ribs in a way I’ve only ever felt with her.

“Well, it just so happens that I love you, I’ve always loved you, and I know that I’ll always love you. And that’s why I bought the cabin. It’s now yours.” My voice is filled with confidence, and my words drip with raw truth. I don’t blink. I keep my gaze locked on hers.

“What?” Shock paints her pretty face, and I can’t stop grinning at her. “Are you serious?”

“Of course, I am. Would I make something like that up?” Even though I’m challenging her in a way that I know normally makes her blood boil, I can tell she’s happy from the way her eyes shimmer.

“Thank you, Kolton. I can’t… I mean… I don’t know what to say.”

“Tell me you’ll give me a second chance. I should’ve told you that night how I felt, how much I loved you. I should’ve fucking proposed,” I bite out as frustration flows through me at my stupidity. “I figured if I could show you how much this old place means to me, you’ll be able to see I do love you,” I tell her earnestly. This time, I pull her closer. I need to feel her, to really feel every tremble and shiver.

Cally lays her head on my chest before she admits, “I love you.” Her voice is timid, but I can hear the smile in her words. And I know I’m about to claim the one woman who’s always held my heart in the palm of her delicate hand.

About the Author

Dani is a USA Today Bestselling Author of dark and deviant romance with a seductive edge.

Originally from Cape Town, South Africa, she now lives in the UK where she explores old buildings and cemeteries while plotting her next book. When she’s not writing, she can be found binge-watching the latest TV series, or working on graphic design either for herself, or other indie authors.

She enjoys reading books about handsome villains and feisty heroines, mostly dark, always seductive, and sometimes depraved. She has a healthy addiction to tattoos, coffee, and ice cream.

You can find more information on her website, www.danirene.com, or find her on social media, Instagram and Facebook being her favorites. Along with her newsletter, which you can sign up for here - https://bit.ly/DaniVIPs

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PROLOGUE TO ANGRY DEVIL

DANIELA ROMERO

CHAPTER ONE

AARON

RUBBING A HAND OVER MY FACE, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes are bloodshot, my face haggard. I look like shit, and, unlike a chick with makeup, I have no way to cover it.

This shit is going to get me killed. I need an out, but fuck if I can find one.

My phone buzzes on the counter where I left it and I flick up the screen to see a message from my handler, officer Dylan Pratt. Clenching my jaw, I look to see what the fucker wants.

Pratt: Drop still happening tonight?

He knows it is, but I respond anyway.

Me: If it wasn’t, I would have said something.

Pratt: Don’t be a smartass. Would hate to see your time extended for insubordination.

God, I hate this guy. Six months. All of this shit was supposed to end after six months, but it’s been nine now and this asshole is threatening to drag it out even longer. Fucking prick.

He arrested me two summers back. Minor in possession on top of driving while under the influence, not that I’d been drinking.

It’s bullshit if you ask me.

I had some weed in my pocket I hadn’t had the chance to smoke yet, and I didn’t touch a drop of alcohol that night. But I crashed my ride with passengers in the car, one of which being the Chief of Police’s son, so I was given a closer look than I would have been had I been alone.

They got me for the stimulants in my system and the handful of pills I kept in my glove compartment. I didn’t have a prescription at the time, though I could have. Back then, I was self-medicating, not knowing that the mess in my head was due to undiagnosed ADHD instead of my brain being broken or some other shit. None of that matters now.

I consented to a blood test when I shouldn’t have. It was Roman’s dad who asked and I could never say no to the guy. As Sun Valley’s Chief of Police and my former best friend’s father, I looked up to the guy. It didn’t even register that my test would come back dirty because I hadn’t been drinking and it’d been weeks since I smoked any weed, but it did and well, here I am.

Chief Valdez got me a deal. Six months as a C.I. for the Sun Valley P.D. and I’d be free and clear. No jail time, no fines, and nothing to hit my record. I took the deal. Obviously. Didn’t even need to talk to my lawyer to know it was a better deal than I could have hoped for—though I did anyway. I’m not an idiot, and yeah, my lawyer confirmed it. So I accepted the deal and assumed what they wanted from me would be easy.

I was wrong.

I thought I’d be giving them the lowdown on petty dealers targeting other high school kids like myself in Sun Valley.

But, the Sun Valley P.D. doesn’t give a shit about the small fish. They want the men at the top and the deeper I got for them, the more dangerous shit became.

Somehow, I’ve gone from a kid who smokes some occasional weed and pops the periodic pill so my head is on straight, to a full-fledged dealer for Petr Sidorov, a scary fucking Russian I have the misfortune of knowing by name and have zero desire to meet in the flesh.

But if tonight goes as planned, I’ll come face to face with the infamous criminal.

What’ll happen to me after that?

Tossing my phone on the counter, I strip for the shower, needing the cold water to clear my head. Shit has gone too far. I’m in over my head with no way out. Even if Pratt doesn’t make good on his threat and tonight really is my last drop, how the fuck am I going to get out after this?

I’ve spent nine months weaseling my way into the Sidorov syndicate. They know who I am. They’ve seen my face. And after tonight, Petr Sidorov will know what I look like. He’ll have a face to my name. And then what?

“Fuck.” How did I let shit get this far?

I consider calling Roman’s pops. No way would he be okay with this, right? At least, I don’t think he would be. But after they assigned me my handler, he washed his hands of me. Roman and I aren’t friends anymore. None of me and the Devils are. They washed their hands of me too, not that I can blame them. From their perspective, I fell further and further over the edge. I stopped returning their calls or texts and started kicking it with the wrong crowd. I had to. I needed to get P.D. the information they needed and I had to make sure my friends didn’t get involved in the shit I was in.

I rinse off and climb out of the shower. This is the bed I’ve made. Time for me to lie in it.

CHAPTER TWO

AARON

I PULL up to the pier in my blue Subaru WRX. Killing the engine, I wrap my hands around the steering wheel with a white-knuckled grip and take a deep breath. “You’ve got this. One more job. After tonight, you get to walk away.”

Steeling myself, I take one last look at my phone, deleting the message stream between Pratt and I before flicking my phone to silent mode and shoving it into my back pocket.

With my shoulders hunched and my shaggy blond hair hiding part of my face, I head for the docks. I’ve learned from past drops that I can make a cleaner getaway if I run, so I make it a point to leave my ride about half a block back so I’m never blocked in.

Most dealers are trigger-happy and prone to paranoia. I’ve never been the target when one of them has gone off the rails, but I sure as shit do what I can to get out of their line of fire.

I take in the row of black SUVs from my vantage point as I trudge up the road. Five. More than usual. Then again, tonight isn’t like other nights. I laid the groundwork for Pratt, dropping enough bread crumbs for Sidorov’s men to develop an interest in his cover story. He’s an up and coming dealer on the Eastside of Sun Valley with access to the spoiled brats of Suncrest Academy.

It’s taken months of careful planning to get here, but after Sidorov’s men did whatever background checks they needed to, they decided Pratt was worth a conversation. He’s supposed to buy eight hundred grams of molly tonight.

Four hundred, if convicted, is an automatic seven-year sentence. Who the hell knows the kind of time Sidorov and his men will face with eight hundred, but the Sun Valley P.D. aren’t taking any chances. They want them off the street and will stack up the charges however they need to to make it happen. With any luck, they’ll get enough time to forget all about my involvement in what’s about to come next.

Reaching the SUVs, I nod to Sebastian and Ricco, two younger guys playing lookout that I happen to recognize while I wait for Pratt to show up. It only takes a few minutes before his car rolls in. A bright yellow Dodge Challenger. Bumblebee wannabe. His ride is pretentious as fuck, but it gives off the image he expects it to.

With a roll of my eyes, I push off from the wall I’d been leaning against and join him as he puts the car in park and climbs out. Pratt doesn’t kill the engine. No one here does. Makes for a faster getaway if the cops show up. Little do they know, one already has.

“Hey, man,” Pratt says, taking my hand and slapping my back like we’re old friends.

“Hey.” I dip my head, much more subdued in my greeting. “You brought the cash?”

He grins. “Sure did.” He turns and grabs a duffle bag from his back seat. “Got it all here.”

I nod and flick my attention to the waiting SUVs. Sebastian and Ricco are the lookouts, leaving the others to wait comfortably in their rides, but as Pratt and I near the clearing between their cars and his, several doors open and men start spilling out.

One. Two. Six. Seven. Fuck. There are eleven men. Thirteen, counting Sebastian and Ricco. The hairs on the back of my neck rise. This big of a show of force is never a good sign.

“Something is off,” I mutter beneath my breath.

Pratt grabs the back of my neck, never losing his smile as he says, “Get it together, kid. Stay cool. We’re good.” He keeps his voice equally low, but there’s a warning there too. “Don’t fuck this up.”

Shaking out of his hold, I put more space between us and take the lead to where the men are waiting, scanning their faces for anyone familiar. I recognize most of the men in passing, having come across them here or there when I was picking up some new product or attending a party, but I freeze when my gaze lands on Petr Sidorov before I force myself to keep walking.

I’ve seen pictures of the man before. He’s not the head of the Sidorov syndicate, but he’s up there, and none of the pictures prepared me for what it’d be like seeing him in person. There’s an air of hostility that surrounds him. He doesn’t even have to speak for you to know he’s dangerous. It’s written in the sharp lines of his face and the stiff set of his shoulders. There’s a scar that wraps around his neck, thick and angry, like someone tried to slit his throat but failed.

Petr Sidorov is not someone I want to mess with.

His dark blue eyes land on me, causing goosebumps to break out along my skin. He has the eyes of a predator and they’ve sighted me as prey. Fuck. Pratt either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care because he walks right up to Petr Sidorov and holds his hand out, as if the bastard will actually shake it.

“Hey, man. I’m David.” He offers him his cover name. “Nice to meet you.”

Petr looks down at Pratt’s hand in disdain before flicking his attention back to me. “You vouch for this man?” he asks, his voice gravelly like he smokes a pack a day. Or maybe it’s that his vocal cords were torn when whoever it was that went after him took a knife to his neck.

“Guess so.” I shuffle my feet and shrug.

Pratt cuts me a glare, but what does the guy expect? If I give him a glowing recommendation, it’ll come across suspect as shit. I’m supposed to be a messed up tweaker kid. I trust no one. Least of all the flashy dealer Pratt is pretending to be. I know my cover story. The asshole should remember his own.

“Not a glowing recommendation,” Sidorov says, quirking a brow. His accent is thick, making it clear that English isn’t his first language.

“He’s never done me dirty,” I tell him with a shrug, unwilling to dig the hole I’m in any deeper. “Until he does, I guess he’s alright.”

Pratt laughs. “Kids, I tell you. You look out for them and this is the sort of thanks you get.”

Sidorov’s eyes flick back to him, and when they do, I notice the person standing just behind him.

My breath catches.

A pretty girl around my age eyes me curiously around Petr Sidorov’s form. As soon as she sees me returning her look, she jerks back, but not far enough to hide her from view. She has waist-length blonde hair that hangs past her shoulders in thick, glossy waves. Her mouth is full. Cheeks round. She looks sorta like a young Scarlett Johansson, but with eyes so crystalline blue, they’re almost clear.

Peeking her head around Petr once more, she offers me a hesitant wave, one I find myself returning.

She’s pretty. Beautiful, really.

Petr catches her movement and the next thing I know, the girl is on the ground, clutching her cheek as a small whimper escapes her lips.

“Glupaya shlyukha,” he barks at her, and without thinking, I take two steps forward only to freeze when guns are suddenly drawn, at least four of them pointing my way.

“Whoa, whoa,” Pratt says, but I barely hear him.

There’s a violent roaring in my ears. He hit her. He fucking hit her. And for what? Because she waved at me? Eyes narrowed, I look from her prone form on the ground to the bastard who struck her. “What the fuck?!”

Petr’s dark blue eyes cut to me. “What?” he snaps, like he doesn’t understand my anger.

Pratt moves beside me, one hand now clasping my shoulder to hold me in place. “We’re good. All good,” he says to Petr before telling me, “Relax, kid.”

I ignore him. “You hit her.” Balling my hands into fists, I remind myself of where I am and who I’m talking to, but it doesn’t stop my question from pouring out of my mouth or curb the anger rioting through my veins. “What the fuck did she do, man? She didn’t deserve that.”

Petr laughs like my question amuses him. “Why do I, how you say it, hit my woman?” he asks, his English broken and accent thicker than before. “She had eyes for you, pretty boy. The bitch knows better than to behave like a common whore.” He spits on the ground at his feet, narrowly missing her.

Swallowing hard, I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood. “She didn’t have eyes for me,” I tell him. “And I didn’t realize she was your girl or I wouldn’t have looked at her to begin with.”

The thought of her belonging to him makes me sick. I’d have assumed she was his daughter first. I’m seventeen, and she can’t be more than a year or two older than I am while Petr Sidorov is a man well into his late forties. Maybe even early to mid-fifties. What is a girl like that doing with him?

Grabbing her by her hair, Petr drags the girl to her feet. She stumbles, clutching at his hold on her head, but she remains quiet, letting him manhandle her without protest.

“Now you know. This one,” he shakes her like a doll, “she’s mine. Don’t covet that which does not belong to you.”

Pratt’s fingers dig into my shoulder, a silent reminder to tread carefully. “Yeah, man. Of course. Like I said, I never would have looked at her if I knew she was yours. My bad. Won’t happen again.”

Satisfied, he releases her, and she slumps her shoulders while resuming her place at his side. Sidorov’s men visibly relax after that, putting their guns away while Pratt captures everyone’s attention, doing what he does best. He tells the guys about his plans for the drugs, drawing them in with talk of all the money to be made. I can’t help but flick my eyes to the girl while he talks, but I make sure no one catches me.

She’s an enigma, a puzzle I want to solve, but not once does her gaze flick to me again.

The drop is coming to a close. Pratt’s handed over the money and Ricco’s taken it to the side to be counted out. As soon as he gives Petr the all clear, they’ll hand over the drugs and that’ll be the end. Sun Valley P.D. will swoop in, arrest these assholes, and I’ll be done.

What will happen to the girl?

“Ist alles da?” Petr says. I don’t know what it means, but it’s clear he’s asked a question.

Ricco nods his head.

“Gut,” Petr says. “Töte sie und fertig.”

The girl’s head jerks up at his words, panic bright in her eyes as her gaze seeks me out. Petr’s back is to her as she mouths one word.

‘Run.’

A gunshot goes off and Pratt stumbles back on his feet.

Diving behind his Challenger, I dodge the spray of bullets directed my way right as Sun Valley P.D. lights up the clear night sky with flashes of red and blue, making their presence known. Sirens roar but do little to cover up the sound of shouts and gunfire as Sidorov’s men rush to get away.

Adrenaline surges through my veins, my heart pounding as it threatens to tear itself free from my chest. A bullet tears into the ground by my feet and I scramble to tuck my knees closer to my chest. Fuck.

Chest heaving, I peer over the hood to see Sidorov’s men spread out, guns raised as they take aim at the police. Pratt is still on the ground but he’s moving, army crawling on his knees and elbows as he desperately tries to find cover. A trail of blood follows in his wake.

Tires squeal and men cry out all around me. Fisting my hands at my sides, I hold back my flinch at the sound of a bullet lodging itself into the Challenger’s side.

Goddammit.

I can’t stay here. But I can’t leave Pratt behind either. Shifting to the balls of my feet, I move around the car until I reach the other side, giving myself a clear line of sight to Pratt’s body.

Everyone else’s attention is on the cruisers quickly surrounding them, if I’m going to move, I need to do it now.

My chest rises and falls, my breaths loud in my own ears, but everything else around me falls away. My vision narrows, all of my focus lasered in the direction I need to move. You’ve got this. Come on. Gritting my teeth, I bounce on the balls of my feet one last time before surging up and jumping out from behind the car. I sprint for Pratt’s prone form, pumping my arms and legs as a spray of bullets peppers the ground behind me.

Diving for a mountain of pallets, I slide on my knees, not slowing to breathe before rolling to my feet and twisting around the pile of wood until I’m face to face with an unmoving Pratt. Sonova— He was crawling only a few seconds ago.

Reaching down, I grab for the vest I know he has hidden beneath his shirt and pull with everything I have and goddamn he’s a heavy fucker. My muscles strain as I drag him into cover and sweat drips down my brows.

A stray bullet takes him in the leg and a pained grunt slips past his lips, but he doesn’t cry out. I don’t know if that’s a good sign or not. After a few more heaves, I drag him further away from the fight, letting his brothers in blue handle the mess they’ve created.

Rolling him to his back, I take him in, my eyes frantically searching for his injuries. His face is pale, a cold sweat dripping down his face.

“Where are you hit?” Tearing the buttons open on his shirt, I survey his vest. Three bullet holes mark the center, but I don’t see any blood. The vest did its job, but he’s bleeding somewhere and it’s bad. He left a fucking river behind us.

“Shoulder,” he grunts.

Shifting my focus, I peel back his shirt to find the bullet wound he mentioned. “Fuck.” Yanking my own shirt over my head, I ball the fabric up and press it to the wound. “Hold this,” I tell him, replacing my hands with his so I can check out his leg.

Pulling the pocket knife from my back pocket, I cut through his jeans, exposing his right calf. Shit. Mind racing, I unbuckle my belt and wrap it around his leg, pulling tight to stem the bleeding.

Pratt’s lashes flutter and his eyelids close.

“Hey!” I snap, louder than I should. Gunshots continue to ring out around us. I know better than to call attention to our hiding place, but he does not get to die on me. Not after I stuck my neck out for him after everything he’s put me through. This asshole has to live.

Smacking the side of his face, I slap him again and again until his eyes open and his glazed eyes flicker to mine.

“You do not get to pass out, got it?” I growl.

“You…” he wheezes before hacking up a cough. “You did good, kid.” Blood paints his lips. Shit. It’s in his mouth. He’s got internal bleeding or something.

“You’re not dying,” I tell him. “So don’t fucking compliment me. You’ve been a prick since day one. Don’t bother changing now.”

He laughs, the sound raw and wet as blood paints his teeth. He’s not going to make it.

I’m about to take my chances, head back into that shit storm and find one of his boys to carry his ass out of here, when a firm grip takes hold of my wrist, taking me by surprise.

“What?” I ask, brows drawn as I look down at Pratt.

His eyes drift behind me before he dips his chin down, his expression earnest. I follow the line of his gaze, taking in the gun he has tucked into the waistband of his jeans. Eyes wide, he looks back over my shoulder and I know with that one action that someone is behind me.

Blood draining from my face, my mind whirls through possibilities.

How many, I mouth.

Pratt blinks once. Twice.

Two.

Chest rising and falling at a rapid clip, I keep my movements casual as I pretend to look Pratt over all the while reaching for his gun. Checking to see that the safety is off, I place my finger on the trigger and steal one last breath. Pratt’s hand is still on my wrist and he gives me one final squeeze before I whirl around on my feet.

Faster than my conscious mind can register it, I take in the two men sneaking up behind me, sight the first, and fire. My arm rocks as the gun discharges and his head snaps back, his death instant as his body crashes to the floor but I don’t wait to see him hit the ground. Bile rises in my throat but I lock my emotions down, refusing to think about the life I took as my body moves on instinct, knowing there’s another threat.

Shifting my focus to the second man, I squeeze the trigger, but the gun’s previous discharge throws off my aim and instead of hitting the second guy between his brows, I peg him in the shoulder. He staggers back on his feet, his gun arm dropping, but he keeps coming for me, his arm lifting back up again despite the pain he has to be in.

I fire again. My second shot takes him in the neck. Blood sprays and he crashes to his knees. The contents of my stomach threaten to make an appearance. I fire a third shot, hitting him between the eyes before a sound behind me has me spinning on my feet, Pratt’s firearm still raised in my hand with my finger on the trigger.

Clear blue eyes meet mine. “Shit.” I drop the gun to my side. “What are you doing here?” She should be long gone by now, but instead she’s crouched down at Pratt’s side, her tiny hands putting pressure on the wound at his shoulder.

He’s passed out now, unaware of Sidorov’s girl trying to help him, not that he’s in any position to object.

“You’re police?” Her voice is soft. Timid. But there’s a hint of steel in her gaze as she voices her question.

“No,” I tell her, shaking my head. “But he is. Why?”

She huffs. It wasn’t the answer she wanted. “I—“

“Pratt?” A voice calls out.

“He’s over here,” I shout just as a man in blue turns the corner.

“Fuck. Where’s he hit?” the guy asks, barely sparing the girl or me a glance.

“Shoulder and left calf,” I tell him.

Expression grim, he nods. “You the C.I.?”

I nod. “Alright. Ambulance is on the way. Clear out while you can. Pratt or someone else with the department will reach out to you later.”

“Did you guys arrest them all?” I can feel the girl shift behind me, like she doesn’t want him to notice her, but he does.

“Who are you?”

“She’s with me,” I tell him, wrapping my blood-stained fingers around hers. I’m still holding Pratt’s firearm in my other hand and I quickly pass it off to the cop. “Here. Pratt dropped it when he passed out,” I tell him, not bothering to mention that I’m the one who killed the two men behind us.

“Thanks, kid,” he says, checking the chamber before he shoves it in his waistband. “You got a ride?”

“Yeah. I’m good. Thanks.” I pull the girl to her feet behind me, still not relinquishing my hold on her. “You got them all though, right?”

“Yeah, kid. We got them.”

Good. Not needing to hear more, I jog for my ride, tugging the girl behind me. She stumbles a few times and I force myself to slow my steps, my longer legs eating up more distance than her petite frame can.

“Where are we going?” she asks. There’s a hint of fear in her voice.

“Away from here,” I tell her. “Getting somewhere safe is all I care about right now. That okay with you?” The adrenaline is wearing off and I know I’ll crash soon. I don’t want that to happen while we’re out in the open.

Her full lips purse together. “Safe?” It’s like she’s tasting the word.

We stop beside my car and I release my grip on her hand to open the door, immediately missing her warmth. “Yeah. Safe. That okay?”

“I can’t stay long.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, drawing my attention to the thin scar that runs down her face from temple to jaw. Without thinking, I step into her space, cupping her face in my hand as my finger traces the raised edges of her scar. “Who did this to you?”

Eyes wide, she takes a step back, but I follow her.

Shaking her head, her hair once again covers the mark, but I know it’s there and seeing it makes liquid fire race through my veins. “It’s nothing. Happened years ago.” She brushes off my question and it’s clear she wants me to drop it.

It’s not safe to linger out here, so despite myself, I let it go. “Can I give you a ride somewhere?”

She eyes the open door of my ride before licking her lips. “Petr was arrested,” she says, like I don’t already know.

“Does that upset you?”

She scoffs and shakes her head. “No. But it’d be better if he was dead.”

Can’t say I disagree.

Brows furrowed, a new look flickers over her face. “The police won’t hold him for long. A day, maybe two, before he’s free again. You need to be careful. Move somewhere far. Get a new name.”

“Nah,” I tell her. “Tonight should see him locked up for a long time.”

“No. He’s too well connected. He’ll get out.” I don’t like the resignation in her voice, or the certainty in her gaze. No way is she with Sidorov by choice, so why do I get the feeling she has every intention of going back to him?

“What will you do?” I ask. “If he gets out, or even if he doesn’t?” I want to ask her where she’ll go. If she wants to come with me. But I don’t want to scare her away. She’s so small. Fragile. I have this overwhelming urge to protect her. But if she’s right and Sidorov gets out, if he comes for me, I don’t know that I can.

“I have to go back. No matter his fate, I have—” She clears her throat. “responsibilities. Someone who depends on me.”

“I can help. I’m not police, but I know a lot of them. If you need—”

Her smile is sad when she places her hand on my chest to stop me. “You are kind,” she says, “but no. I have to go back.” She hesitates. “Maybe tonight,” she takes a breath and offers me a wistful smile, “maybe tonight I could be,” she bites her lower lip and whispers one last word, “safe.”

“Okay,” I tell her, wishing I could offer her more than one night of safety. “I’ll keep you safe.”

Ducking beneath my arm, she slips into my car and I close the door behind her. I don’t know what her story is, but I’ll give her what she’s asking for. I’ll keep her safe, for as long as she lets me.

CHAPTTER THREE

SAIRSE

MY PALMS SWEAT so I rub them on my jeans while the boy with blond hair and kind eyes drives us away. I should never have gotten into the car with him. We were only a few blocks to the main road and while I don’t have a phone, I could have found a bus, maybe hailed a cab. I don’t know.

Stupid. This is very stupid. Yet I don’t ask him to pull over. To let me go.

His blood-stained hands grip the steering wheel and I can’t help but greedily drink him in. Upper body bare, I take in the hard planes of his chest and chiseled abdomen. There is a smear of blood on his right side where he must have run his hands over himself and a streak of crimson along his temple likely from pushing back his hair.

Seeing Petr’s hands bathed in blood always makes my stomach roll and fear coat the back of my tongue but I don’t feel either of those things right now.

When the shooting started, I ran for the back of Petr’s SUV like he ordered me to do, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be able to get us out of there, despite his assurances. There were too many police and we were quickly surrounded, but I hid like I was supposed to and I waited while Petr’s men were cut down one by one and Petr himself was brought to his knees.

Satisfaction thrummed through me when an officer took his hands, dug his knee into Petr’s spine, and cuffed his wrists behind his back, even knowing they wouldn’t hold him for long. Seeing him overtaken, even if only for a moment, was the reminder I needed.

Not even Petr is untouchable

He met my gaze when they hauled him away and I knew what his dark blue eyes were ordering me to do. It was the same thing I’d told the boy to do when Petr accepted their money before ordering his men to kill both of them.

Run.

Only this time, it wasn’t to save a life. It was to protect a secret. The police couldn’t discover who I was. Who I’ll never again be allowed to be.

For a split second, I considered defying Petr’s silent demand, but too much was at stake.

Anya needs me and I refuse to abandon her. I accepted my fate long ago.

But then I saw the boy with kind eyes trying to save the man he arrived with. He could have run when the shooting started but he didn’t. He stayed to help, and I guess I stayed because I needed to know why?

He put the fallen man’s needs above his own.

Does that make him trustworthy? Good? If I asked him to, would he help? A million questions raced through my mind and a blossoming curiosity unfurled inside of me leading me to where I am.

We drive for twenty minutes down side streets and back alleyways while city lights bleed into dense forest and asphalt turns to gravel.

That we’re moving far from the city should worry me, but I can’t find it in myself to care. I don’t think this boy with messy hair and kind eyes can do any worse to me than what Petr and his men have done before, so for once, my fear abandons me, leaving behind an anxious energy instead.

There is something about the boy, a feeling I can’t quite describe. I don’t disobey Petr’s orders and I don’t get into vehicles with strangers, but I’ve done both of those things tonight with no explanation beyond this curious need to be near him. To understand the way his mind thinks.

Slowing the car, he turns into a clearing ringed with cabins before pulling up to one of them and putting the car in park.

We’ve arrived.

The engine idles as I take in the view before me. It’s quiet here. Peaceful. I exhale a soft breath, rolling my shoulders as the tension from earlier tonight melts away.

Killing the ignition, he opens his door and climbs out of the car without uttering a word.

With a deep breath, I unbuckle and move to follow suit, but before I can open my door, he’s there. Holding it open and wearing a cautious smile on his face, he holds out his hand and waits for me to take it and without any hesitation, I do, slipping my hand in his, he draws me from the car and leads me up the wooden porch steps.

Silence greets our steps save for the chirp of insects.

Here, we are truly alone.

With his free hand, he unlocks the door before flicking on the lights and leading me inside. Mismatched furniture greets me, but it looks comfortable and clean. There’s a small living and dining area on one side of the cabin and an equally small but efficient kitchen on the other. A hallway bisects the the house, leading toward the back where I assume the bedrooms and bathroom lie.

I look at the boy and second guess my decision to come here. Is there one room or two? Will he expect anything in return for bringing me here? And if he does, do I care?

It only takes a few seconds to realize I don’t, and only a few more for shame to slither up my spine and accept it. If he demands payment for his kindness, I will offer it.

With a loud exhale, he leads me to the living area and drops down onto the couch, subsequently dragging me down with him. I fall into the space beside him, shifting in my seat so I can face him fully.

The pad of his thumb draws lazy circles on my hand. A subconscious action, I think.

It’s … nice.

His hands are warm. His fingers smooth and without calluses. He’s young. Younger than my eighteen years, I think. And unmarked by the hardships of life, at least from what I can tell on the outside though after what happened today, I doubt the same can be said about what marks he has on the inside.

Our deepest scars are often the ones unseen.

“What’s your name?” I ask, unable to keep my curiosity at bay.

Blond brows pull together and he frowns. “I—“ He hesitates and my stomach plummets to my feet. He doesn’t want me to know.

Disappointment churns in my gut and I look away, face heating beneath his apologetic gaze. Of course he doesn’t want to tell you his name. Why would he? You’re Petr Sidorov’s girl. Untrustworthy. A threat.

I open my mouth to tell him to forget I asked when he clears his throat, drawing back my gaze. “Aaron,” he says. “My name is Aaron.”

I taste his name on my tongue. Aaron. It suits him. I don’t bother asking for his last name, that he’s given me this is more than enough.

The corners of my mouth curl into a smile and I return his show of trust and offer him my own. Not the one Petr and his men call me, but the one I was given at birth and have longed to hear these past three years from a mouth other than my own.

“Saoirse.”

Aaron matches my grin, his green eyes brightening. “Saoirse,” He repeats, getting the pronunciation right on the first try. Sur-shuh, like the actress. “Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.”

My cheeks heat at his kind words and an irrational rush of butterflies find their way into my stomach.

“Thank you for …” I look around the room, struggling to find the right words to say, “for bringing me here.”

“Yeah. I mean… it’s no trouble.” He drops my hand to run his fingers through the long strands of his hair, some of the previously dried blood flecking off to fall against his bare chest but he doesn’t seem to notice.

His hands tremble when he brings them back to his lap and his knee bounces with anxious energy. Shock. He’s still processing everything that’s happened tonight but now that we’re here, seemingly safe, his body doesn’t know what to do and he needs an outlet if he’s going to keep the panic I see bleeding into his eyes at bay.

Tonight was not a normal occurrence for him. He wasn’t prepared for the possibility of a gun fight and I think … I chew on my lower lip, remembering how he shot two of Petr’s men who’d been sneaking up behind him. Is that the first time he’s taken a life? I’m tempted to ask but don’t want to make the strain bracketing his mouth or clip of his breaths any worse. I didn’t notice it while driving but he’s barely holding it together.

“So, uhh—“ He gives me this helpless look and before I know it, I’m laughing, and then he’s laughing, hesitant at first before he gives in to the buzzing energy around us and hunches over at his waist, a full bellied laugh spilling from his parted lips.

The sounds coming from the two of us are manic and strange but offer a much-needed reprieve. When I was first forced into this lifestyle, there were moments when I didn’t know how to push past the grief and the pain and I’d struggle to breathe. It took months before my panic no longer paralyzed me and a year before I discovered that humor was a sufficient method of coping.

It was forced at first, but over time I learned to turn even a necessitated laugh into a genuine one.

From the looks of it, forced humor can help him too.

Gasping for air and wiping the unshed tears from my eyes, I look at Aaron, having gotten closer to him during our fit of laughter.

His smile reaches his eyes as he looks down at me and reaches out, tucking my hair behind my ear, his hands no longer trembling. That’s good.

“Why do you hide yourself?” His voice takes on a husky quality. “You’re beautiful.”

He’s called me that once already but hearing it again makes my breath catch. Once might have been an accident. Twice is a choice. A conscious decision. I stare into his eyes, searching for the truth in his words as I silently pray for him to utter those words again.

I’ve been called hot and sexy before. A lot of Petr’s men make comments about how I’m a fine piece of ass, but not once has anyone looked at me the way Aaron does now, and never before have I been called beautiful.

I was little more than a girl when I was first taken and now, with my scar—ducking my head, I swallow past the lump in my throat. “You don’t have to say things like that to me.” You don’t have to lie.

With a gentle touch, he tips my chin up until my eyes once again meet his gaze. “Why wouldn’t I?” he asks. “It’s the truth.”

Leaning into his touch, his hand shifts from my chin to the side of my face as he cups my cheek, stroking a finger along my jaw.

“So …” His Adam’s apple bobs and I get the feeling he’s fighting back the urge to kiss me. The heat of his breath fans across my cheeks, his body now leaning more toward mine.

I think I want him to. To kiss me, that is. Moments before, I told myself I’d repay his kindness with whatever he required of me but he’s not making any demands. In fact, he’s keeping himself in check despite the clear desire in his eyes. The need. I’m not vain enough to assume it’s there solely for me. He needs a reprieve after tonight’s events.

So do I.

What would it be like to kiss a boy like Aaron? Does it feel different when a kiss is given freely instead of taken?

I imagine it does.

“You’re with Petr Sidorov?” The question is spoken softly but it might as well have been shouted in my ears with how loud each word echoes within my mind.

“I’m not with Petr,” I tell him, steel filling my voice.

Aaron’s brows furrow. “But—“

“I’m his girl,” I say, needing him to understand. “His property. I am not with him. Not by choice.”

His lips flatten. “You don’t have to—“

Placing my one hand over his on my cheek and the other on his chest, I stop him. This is dangerous. Already, I’ve crossed lines, taken a chance that puts not only my own life at risk but his as well and not once did I pause and explain my situation. I’ve omitted the danger he’s placed himself in by bringing me here. By showing me even an ounce of kindness. I won’t make matters worse by accepting yet another kindness from one. One I do not deserve.

“I do,” I say. “There is someone counting on me. I have to go back.” Despite how desperately I wish it wasn’t true.

A few seconds pass between us and I know he wants to ask more questions but with a defeated sigh, he nods, his eyes soft and filled with a silent understanding.

“How long can you stay?”

“For the night.” Any longer and I risk Petr being released before I’m able to make my way back to his hotel. He won’t return to Richland without me. That much I am certain of. But if he’s released from police custody and I’m not there, waiting for him as I’ve been ordered to, he’ll send his men out to find me and I’ll have to face the consequences of his efforts.

I have one night and, unsurprisingly, I am desperate to make the most of it.

Leaning forward, I press my lips to the smooth skin of his jaw. He stills beneath my touch before his hands move, fingers sliding into my hair.

“Saoirse?”

“I want to be a normal girl for tonight.” Pulling back, I meet his stunned gaze. “Would that be okay?”

Making sure he understands what I’m suggesting, I rise to my knees and eliminate the space between us to straddle his lap.

His hands fall to my hips and his throat bobs. “We don’t—“ he clears his throat, “we don’t have to do anything. I’m not—”

Shifting in his lap, I rock my hips against him, rubbing myself along the hardening length of his erection.

A soft moan slips between my lips right as Aaron hisses between his teeth.

“I want to,” I tell him before remembering what it’s like to have my choices taken from me. Shit. Is that what I’m doing? I pause and bite my lower lip. “But only if you want to, too. I—“ Doubt worms its way through me. Oh God. What am I doing? Aaron doesn’t know me and he hasn’t said or done a thing to indicate that he wants me in this way. I just assumed—because he’s been nice—I am such an idiot.

Is that all it takes? For someone to show me an ounce of kindness and I’ll just throw myself at them?

Self-loathing sinks into my chest and I lift up from my seat, but Aaron’s hands on my hips pull me back down against him.

“Hey?” His eyes search mine but I can’t look at him, too afraid to see disgust or worse, pity in his gaze. Is this the part where the boy lets the girl down slowly? Am I truly this pathetic?

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.” I try to wave all this away but he doesn’t release me.

Keeping one of his hands on my waist, the other wraps around the side of my neck and he turns my gaze back toward him, pausing until my eyes flick back to his own.

“Saoirse. I do,” he says.

I still in his lap, breath seizing in my lungs. “You do?”

He offers me a boyish grin. “Yeah. I do.”

Oh.

Not waiting for a response, he pulls me close and with a gentle touch, presses his mouth to mine. Aaron’s lips are warm but firm as he tightens his hold on me, fingers flexing on the side of my neck and at my hip.

A shiver races up my spine.

The kiss is chaste at first, but doesn’t stay that way for long. Parting my lips on a soft sigh, my hands splay over Aaron’s bare chest, and his lips pry mine farther apart and his mouth slowly devours my own. His hand frames my face, fingers threading into my hair while the other presses along my lower back, encouraging me closer.

His tongue sweeps into my mouth and the taste of peppermint and cherries explodes along my tastebuds. A groan, raw and low vibrates at the base of his throat to tingle over my tongue.

More.

Threading my fingers into the longer strands of his hair, I mash my breasts against his chest and give myself over to his kiss. He responds with another groan and meets every bruising press of my lips with a desire-laced kiss of his own.

His erection presses between my thighs, hard and demanding to be touched

Hands slipping beneath the hem of my shirt, I moan into Aaron’s mouth, giving him all the encouragement he needs. Peeling the fabric up, our mouths part as he tugs the fabric over my head, exposing the soft pink lace of my bra.

Aaron stills, though his chest rises and falls with each of his harsh breaths as takes in my newly exposed flesh. His eyes heat with desire, only to be quickly followed by rage.

“Who did this to you?” he asks, both voice and expression hard.

His fingers trace the raised scars that crisscross over my ribs and stomach to disappear. Oh. I forgot those were there.

Aaron presses gentle fingers to a yellowing bruise on my left side before dragging his hand over to another thick scar, this one reaching nearly from hip to hip.

My scars are hideous. I don’t usually have a reason to hide them. The only other man to see me like this is the one who put them there but seeing the look in Aaron’s eyes makes embarrassment sweep through me. I should have kept my shirt on.

“Sorry, I—“ There’s no doubt in my mind that any desire Aaron had for me is long gone after seeing my ruined skin. “I’m so stupid.” I shake my head with a mocking laugh, blinking hard against the flood of tears filling my eyes. “I forget about my scars. I didn’t even think—”

“Hey.” He captures my face in his hands, his thumb tracing a tear that’s leaked out from the corner of my eye without my permission. “You are beautiful. No scar can change that.”

Shaking my head, I swipe at the moisture in my eyes. ”But—”

He shakes his head, expression firm. “No buts. You are beautiful. And these…” he trails off, his eyes imploring me to understand, “these just mean you’ve lived a harder life than you should have, but they do nothing, you hear me? Absolutely nothing to detract from how fucking perfect you are.”

Where did he come from and why couldn’t I have found him before?

“Thank you,” I whisper.

He presses his forehead to mine, his breaths mingling with my own.

“Don’t,” he whispers, “I feel like the worst sort of asshole for taking advantage of—”

“You’re not.”

“Aren’t I?”

With more confidence than I feel, I reach back to the clasp behind me and unhook my bra, letting the material fall between us.

Aaron curses, eyes trapped on my chest, and in that moment, I believe him. I believe that he thinks I’m beautiful.

“You can’t take advantage of me if what I offer is given freely.”

He lifts one hand toward me. “I don’t deserve you,” he says. “But I’m too greedy of a bastard not to accept.”

He palms my breast, green eyes filling with wonder as he gently massages my flesh.

I gasp and arch into his touch.

“So sensitive.” He leans forward, capturing me between his lips. “So sweet.” Aaron kisses and licks at my breast before shifting his attention to the other. A needy moan climbs up my throat and any lingering doubts we might have had evaporate between us as he drags my hips along his length and thrusts up, pressing his erection to my core.

It’s not enough. My fingers explore the smooth expanse of his chest, ignoring the dried blood that still peppers his skin as I grind my pussy against him.

I tug at the strands of his hair before drawing my nails down the back of his neck, over his shoulders, and down the hard planes of his chest, curious to see how he responds.

He groans and desperation claws at my insides, needing him closer. Needing more.

Gripping me beneath my thighs, Aaron hoists me into his arms and climbs to his feet. He carries me to one of the bedrooms while I kiss my way down his neck, sinking my teeth into the sensitive skin near his shoulder. With a grunt, he lays me back on the bed, his hands moving to the button of my jeans as he deftly drags my pants down my thighs, taking my panties with them.

Naked and exposed, Aaron towers over me, holding himself up with one arm while his eyes drink their fill of me and I try not to squirm or seek out the revulsion in his eyes. Not that I needed to worry. All I see within the depths of his gaze is the same need and want he finds in my own.

Reaching for his pants, I lower his zipper, keeping my eyes on his as I work to set him free.

His erection bobs between us, thick and heavy. He rises back to his feet to tug his pants off the rest of the way, kicking them aside and offering me an even better view.

My mouth waters and he grins, catching my blatant perusal of his body before he crawls back over me. “Like what you see?” he asks.

“Mmmhmm.”

His thumb traces my bottom lip before he dips down and steals a kiss, his tongue darting out to meet mine. Spreading my legs, Aaron settles himself more firmly between my thighs.

My pussy throbs, so turned on now that I can hardly see straight as Aaron kisses me once more before lowering himself between my thighs. His lips trail kisses down my body, pausing on every one of my scars as he kisses and lavs at each old wound before settling his shoulders between my spread thighs.

There is something insanely erotic about seeing him like this. Not once has a man ever kissed my scars nor has one ever gone down on me before. My pleasure has always been an afterthought and more often than not, something I am forced to find on my own.

I don’t know what I expect, but it isn’t the lightning bolt of sensation that races up my spine at the first swipe of Aaron’s tongue against my clit.

“Holy fu—“

He grins. “Mmm.” Aaron licks me again, mouth pressing between my thighs as he alternates between sucking, kissing, and licking at my clit. My fingers find their way into his hair, tugging hard at the strands as he works me into a frenzy the likes of which I have never experienced.

“Tastes so good,” he groans before pressing a finger to my aching center and working the digit deep inside of me.

My back arches off the bed. “Oh, God.” My teeth dig into my bottom lip as a second finger joins the first and I cry out, the sensations almost too much to bear.

“That’s it,” he croons. “You’re almost there.”

How is this happening?

Aaron fucks my pussy with his fingers while his expert tongue works over my clit and the next thing I know, the feelings coursing deep inside of me intensify as an orgasm unlike anything I’ve felt before tears through me, hard and fast, sending me flying high into an explosion of bliss.

I cry out his name, my chest heaving as I come down, legs trembling on either side of his face.

With a satisfied smirk, Aaron kisses his way back up my body, his teeth scraping along my skin.

My stomach clenches and my thighs quiver, aftershocks of pleasure still thrumming through me.

“Feel good?” He kisses my lips and I taste the heady flavor of my release on his tongue.

“So good,” I murmur.

He chuckles and draws one of my knees up and out, giving himself more room. “Do you still want this?” His cock brushes against my folds.

“Yes.”

Aaron reaches across my splayed body to the nightstand and fumbles around inside the top drawer before finding whatever it is he’s looking for. Tearing open the foil square in his hands, he rolls the condom over his length and lines himself back up with my center. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him not to bother. I can’t get pregnant. Not anymore. But speaking up will lead to more questions. Ones whose answers I’d like to keep to myself, so I say nothing while Aaron presses himself between my folds, a hiss spilling out between his clenched teeth.

Bracing himself over me, Aaron kisses me deeply as he sinks inch after inch of his length inside me. We groan into each other’s mouths, our gazes locked on one another. When he’s fully seated, he pauses, kissing my lips, my cheek, my jaw, and giving me time to adjust to his size. His shoulders shake with the strain of keeping still, but I’m ready for more so I roll my hips, encouraging him to move.

Aaron withdraws, leaving just the tip inside me before plunging back between my folds again and again. The bed frame creaks with each of his thrusts muted only by our combined moans in the quiet cabin.

My fingers dig into his shoulders, clinging to him as he quickens his pace, and I struggle to muffle my cries of pleasure. It’s never been like this before. Not even close.

“Don’t,” Aaron grunts, eyes narrowed in concentration. “No one is around for miles.” Sweat dots his brow and I gasp into his kiss. “I want to hear you, Saoirse.” He thrusts into me, grinding his pelvis against my clit as he sinks deep. “I want to hear your screams when you come again.”

Tension builds inside of me. I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but I can feel the tell-tale signs of another impending release. Oh, God. It’s too much. I can’t. Not again.

“Breathe, baby. Take a breath. That’s it.”

My head falls back, neck straining and my legs start to quiver. My release hovers at the edge of my being, so close yet so far. It’s terrifying how desperate I feel, how addictive Aaron’s attention is.

“I’ve got you.”

“Aaron!” I cry out. I’m right there.

“Fuck,” he grunts. “Say my name again.” His green eyes bore into mine in demand right as my second orgasm of the night tips me over the edge and into oblivion.

“Aaron!” I shout, thighs clenching around his hips. Seeing my response, Aaron pistons into me, his thrusts somehow harder. Deeper. His forehead falls to mine, his hips working furiously as he chases his own release before his eyes squeeze tight and with a groan, he empties himself inside me.

With a harsh exhale, he presses a kiss to my shoulder before rolling beside me. Boneless, I lie there as he gets up and walks across the room. He gets rid of the condom in a nearby waste bin before strutting back to the bed, his erection still somehow at half-mast.

He crawls back onto the bed beside me and pulls me into his arms while tucking my head beneath his chin.

“That was—“ I don’t have the right words to say.

“Mmm. I agree.” With a chuckle, Aaron tugs the blanket up and around us and I burrow myself into his warmth.

My fingertips trail over his broad chest and I listen to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. “Thank you,” I whisper, so quiet I’m not sure he can hear me, but his arms tighten around me, making me think that he does.

“It’s not too late,” he tells me. “You can stay.”

I shake my head before pressing a kiss to his chest. “Just for the night,” I tell him. That’s all that I can give him.

He presses a kiss to my temple before turning to climb out of bed.

“Where are you going?”

He looks at me over his shoulder. “I’m going to shower and get this blood off of me. Then I’m going to bury myself inside of your tight pussy again and again.”

I gasp at the promise in his words.

“If I only have one night with you, Saoirse, I won’t be wasting a single second of it.” He walks across the room, gloriously naked, and opens a door leading to the ensuite bathroom. “You have until I’m finished to rest. Or…” He quirks a brow. A question. Maybe even a dare.

Throwing the covers off, I rise to my feet. “Or I could join you?”

He nods, lips curving as I close the distance between us. “I won’t be wasting a single second either.”

His lips crash down on mine and his hands wrap around my waist as he drags me into the bathroom with him and kicks the door closed behind us.

“Good.” His cock hardens between us. “But, the shower will have to wait.” He spins me around and presses his hand between my shoulders, forcing me to bend at the waist. My hands brace my weight on either side of the sink as his feet kick out between my legs, forcing my stance wide. “I’m ready for you now,” he growls behind me, hand dipping between my thighs. “Are you ready for me, Saoirse?”

I moan as two thick fingers sink into me, finding me wet and wanting.

Withdrawing his fingers, he keeps his gaze locked on mine in the bathroom mirror as he brings them to his lips, groaning as he sucks them clean.

The next thing I know, he’s tearing open another foil packet, lining himself up with my entrance and thrusting his cock deep inside me. I cry out, the new position allowing him to sink inside of me deeper than before.

“All night, baby. I’m going to be right here, all fucking night.”

“Yes.” There isn’t anywhere else I’d rather be.

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IF WE WERE VILLAINS

DEE GARCIA

CHAPTER ONE

MILANIA

WHITE-HOT TEARS STREAM down my face as I lay in a pool of blood, staring up at the ceiling. It’s not mine, but it might as well be, and despite the overwhelming grief seizing me from the inside out, my mind is still clear. I have no doubts about what happened here.

The Costas.

They’re one of the largest, most powerful mafias in all of Philly… and my family’s long-time rival. Vito Costa always promised my father would get his, that karma would be dealt by his hand and he’d wipe out every last Fiorino from Pennsylvania—aka my family.

And he finally made good on that promise.

My father, my mother, even my twin sister, Evelina, and our older brother, Corrado; gone, murdered violently by the looks of the zip ties still cinched around their wrists, and all the scattered lead now decorating my living room. Had I not been out, overlooking one of Pa’s incoming shipments off the port, I’d be dead, too.

A part of me wonders if he knew this was coming, if he asked me to keep his men in line and ensure said shipment arrived as planned in an attempt to keep me breathing. After all, he deemed me heir to the throne upon his death, making me the most valuable player on the field by default. Of all his children, I’ve been most involved in the family business. Corrado was always too busy partying and fucking every woman within a twenty-five-mile radius to give a fuck, and Evelina forever had her nose in a book, studying her life away in hopes of one day becoming a doctor.

Me, though… I hate school, have no five-year plan, and refuse to waste my time with men after the noxious heartbreak that was my ex.

Ma never approved of me serving as my father’s shadow, begged me time and time again to find a normal 9-5, but I was happy helping my dad. It gave me purpose, made me stronger, and perfected my leadership skills. I’m more organized, crafty, cunning when need be, and quick on my feet.

All the things a mafia boss should be.

“Did you know, Pa?” I whisper, raking a silvered, blood-stained strand of hair out of his face as those incessant tears blur my vision. “Did you know they were coming tonight?”

He doesn’t answer, of course, his usual warm, olive-toned skin now cold and pallid beneath my touch. Setting a lingering kiss to his forehead, I wipe the moisture rolling down my cheeks and crawl through the sea of crimson to my twin. Her clear jade eyes, ones identical to my own, stare back at me. Even in death, I can still see fear frozen in their depths, can all but feel it coursing through my being as if I lived this horror myse—

“Hello, Milania,” a velvety tone suddenly booms above me.

A tone that belongs to a voice I couldn’t forget if I tried.

Every single hair on my body rises at attention, goosebumps dotting my skin as I inhale a fortifying breath and turn toward the source. Starting at his polished dress shoes, I work my way up slowly, from the finely tailored all-black suit clinging to his well-built frame, up to those striking hazel eyes that belong to the one and only Dominic Salvatori.

One corner of his mouth hikes up in a lopsided smirk as our stares intertwine. “It’s nice to see you again.”

I almost scoff, ire sweeping through my veins at lightning speed as sirens finally blare in the distance. He can’t be serious. “Is it, though?” I carp. “If my memory serves me correctly, you couldn’t wait to be rid of me.”

Dominic chuckles mirthlessly and drops to his haunches, lifting my chin with the barrel of his Beretta. “I was protecting my son. You can understand that, can’t you?”

His son. My ex.

I don’t reply, pushing his weapon away with a quickness. “What are you doing here? Did you do this?”

He didn’t. He’d have no reason to. Then again, he’s the only other living, breathing person in this room, and he’s armed…

“Why would I murder your family, Milania?” he questions, cocking his head aside. “Your war with the Costas has nothing to do with me and mine.”

“Then why are you here?” I press.

“Because you’re in grave danger… and I’m the only person who can help you.”

CHAPTER TWO

DOMINIC

THE AUTHORITIES rarely run to help where the mafia is concerned, which explains why it took them so goddamned long to show up. By the time they inspected the scene, transferred Milania’s family into body bags, and took our statements, it’d been at least two hours since the bloodbath went down. Tiresome as it was, though, that was the easy part.

Getting Milania into my car after forcing her to take a quick shower was an entirely different story.

She fought tooth and nail, leaving me with no choice but to throw her over my shoulder and force her into the passenger seat. Once we got on the road, she calmed a bit, but the moment we pulled into my driveway, we were right back to the same song and dance.

Kicking, screaming, scratching—the works.

Tossing her into one of the wingback seats situated before my desk, I cage her in to discourage her from possibly bolting and wait until she shuts her mouth before even attempting to open mine. Being the smart little thing she is, she picks up on that rather quickly, boring into me with those translucent jade irises, her chest heaving from exertion.

“Are you done?” I question gruffly, leaning in another inch closer. Foolish on my part because she slaps me not two seconds later, testing every shred of my patience. My blood pressure spikes, an instantaneous tinge of red occluding my vision, but I breathe through the rush and rein it in, turning my head back toward her. “Are you done now?”

Milania doesn’t reply, crossing her tattooed arms with the deadliest expression settled on her angelically beautiful face.

“Just fair warning… You bolt and you’ll run headfirst into three men who’ve been instructed to bring you right back. Are we clear?” She nods, prompting me to push off her seat and plant my ass on the edge of my desk, mirroring her posture. “I’m going to cut right to the chase here, mostly because pussy-footing around the bush isn’t in my repertoire. Do you understand why you’re in danger?”

“Because I’m the only living Fiorino and Vito Costa knows I’m fully capable of running the show without my father,” she carps.

“Can you, though?” My brow perks. “Whatever manpower your father had, they were loyal to him, not you.”

“I was second in command.” Her gaze narrows as she says this. “They’ll fall in line when they learn my father is dead.”

And that’s exactly what I needed to hear. Makes my next question not so farfetched. “If you’re so certain about that, then how would you feel about doubling your manpower? Building an army so large, the Costas would never dare to come after you?” They’d undoubtedly cower, which benefits us both.

That gets her attention, hoisting one of her dark brows in a curious arch. “How would I do that?”

“By marrying me,” I state matter-of-factly.

Milania simply blinks at me, once, twice, three times before throwing her head back and laughing like that’s the most absurd thing she’s ever heard. “Marry you? Are you insane? What good would that do me?”

“What’s mine is yours.” I motion around the surrounding opulence of my office. “Anything and everything.”

“Really now? And what, pray tell, would be in it for you?” Her head cocks dubiously to one side, another action I purposely mimic.

“The very same. What’s yours is mine.” The ports especially. The Fiorinos staked a claim to it decades ago, and that’s where the money is. If I can import and export as my heart pleases, I can cut the bullshit dealings in the city.

“I’m not marrying you,” she scoffs, bordering incredulous and disgusted. “You could be the last man on Earth and I still wouldn’t do it. I hate you.”

“No, you hate that I forced you and Renzo apart. However, now that your family has been slaughtered, you can understand why I made that call, yes?”

She doesn’t reply immediately, mulling it over for a moment or two. Judging by the way she bites the inside of her cheeks, it’s clear she doesn’t want to agree, but nods, nonetheless.

“I’m not the villain here, Milania. I want to keep you alive while also helping you expand your father’s legacy. The merge of our families would make it greater than it already was,” I reason, hoping the amiable tone of my voice will plant a little seed. “I don’t need an answer tonight. You’ve been through hell and deserve the time to grieve. We can discuss it more in depth in the morning. Come, I’ll show you to your room.”

“Woah, woah, woah, hold the fuck up.” She’s on her feet, head rocking from side to side defensively. “What do you mean, my room? Who said I was staying here?”

“Where else are you going to go? Your home is a crime scene,” I deadpan. Yellow tape, pools of blood, scattered casings, holes in the walls. “Besides, how else am I to protect you if you step foot outside these walls? The Costas are probably already out there searching for you.”

Taking that into consideration, she expels a deep breath and rolls her eyes. “Fine, whatever. What about Ren, though?”

“What about me?” my son’s voice rents the air, snapping both our heads in his direction.

I hadn’t even heard him come in, and if the disgruntled pinch of his brows tells me anything at all, it’s that he heard every word… and he’s not remotely happy about it.

CHAPTER THREE

RENZO

I’VE NEVER BEEN MORE furious with my father in my entire life.

Forbidding me to be with Mila was one thing. Yeah, it broke me. I loved her. Shit, I still do. But this? Marrying her for protection? He’s out of his fucking mind if he thinks I’m letting it happen.

She’s mine.

And the second we clear the threshold of her room, I make that much known.

The door slams in my haste as I shove her into the nearest wall, my breaths labored as if I just ran five miles. “You can’t do this,” I growl, one hand on either side of her head.

“Believe me, I don’t want to.” She’s not remotely faased by the sudden flare in my temper. “Unfortunately for me, though, he’s right. Vito’s gonna have every motherfucker out there looking for me, and my dad’s army only extends so far.”

“So marry me. Not him. I’ll keep you safe. I’ll actually love you, Mila. I never stopped loving you.”

Her palm meets my chest, gently nudging me back to slip away as she shakes her head. “Marrying you would mean nothing to the Costas, Ren. You’re not at the head of the table.”

“No, I’m not, but I’m heir to the throne, and that counts for something. They’d be foolish to murder my wife when I’m next in line.” I pivot to face her, watching as she paces in front of the bed.

The sight of her here in my home is surreal, honestly. I haven’t seen her in months, our break-up coming up on a year now. Yet, somehow, it feels like nothing has changed. I still want her in the same fierce way I did then.

“It doesn’t count, and you know this,” she sighs, falling back onto the mattress in a heap. “I either stand beside your father as queen, or I’m as good as dead.”

“Tesoro, please,” I beseech her, the old pet name slipping of its own accord. She was always my greatest treasure. That’s why I used to call her that. I didn’t discard her because I didn’t want her anymore. I let her go because I had to. “Don’t do this.”

Releasing another breath, Milania scrubs a hand down her face, those hypnotizing greens pinning me in place as she turns her head toward me. “What other choice do I have? Would you prefer I claim the bullets Vito has reserved for me?”

“No. I’d prefer you claim me. With your family out of the picture, there’s no reason why we can’t be together.”

“Gee, how utterly sensitive of you.” She glowers, sending her eyes for a spin.

“You know what I meant,” I grit. “Your family’s rapidly escalating war with the Costas was what drove my father to forbid us from being together. They’re gone now, and yes, I’m sorry that you’re having to live through that, but I’m not sorry that I want you by my side again.” My fingers curl and stretch, balling into fists over and over again. It’s the only thing keeping me grounded, the only thing keeping me from crawling over her and reminding her of what we had.

How good we were together.

Lifting onto her elbows, she all but glares at me in disbelief. “Do you want me dead? What part of marrying you won’t mean shit to the Costas don’t you understand?”

Fuck this.

Abandoning my spot by the door, I bring myself to the very edge of the bed and quickly spread her legs. “The part where you’d be my dad’s wife—my fucking step-mom for all intents and purposes, rather than mine.” I’m on her a breath later, dropping all my weight on my arms. “If you’re gonna bear the Salvatori last name, I want it to be because of me.”

“I’d still be a Fiorino. As the last one standing, I can’t let that name die along with the rest of my family. Salvatori would be hyphenated.”

“Hyphenated or not, you’d still bear it. Let me be the reason.”

Milania presses her lips together, staring up at me with a myriad of different emotions in those piercing orbs; anguish, frustration, ire, fear, defeat. Tentatively at first, she reaches out, running the very tips of her fingers along my cheek.

Regardless of being nothing but the slightest touch, my body still responds, begging for more. I nudge into them, pressing my lips first to her palm, then a feather-light trail down her arm. “Don’t go through with this, Mila, please,” I whisper, dragging the tip of my nose up her neck, my teeth nipping at her bottom lip. “I know you still love me. I can feel it.”

“I do,” she nods, taking my face in both hands. “And I’ll always love you, Renzo. But if I don’t do this, you’ll need to start picking out a casket for me, ‘cause Vito will find me, and he won’t hesitate to pull the trigger.”

CHAPTER FOUR

MILANIA

HEARING the morning news regale the world of what happened to my family with some fabricated story makes me sick. I can’t even eat the delicious plate of food set before me. That’s how ill I feel. Then again, I didn’t wake up feeling all that great, either, exhausted after hours of tossing and turning, and endless tears. Between continuous flashes of the state in which I found my family and Renzo’s pleas ringing out in my ears, sleep evaded me, and by the time the early morning sun peeked through the sheer ivory curtains, I was tired of lying in that bed.

So now here I am, sitting at the table between my ex and the man who’s to be my husband with my stomach in knots. The tension is so thick, you could slice it with a butter knife.

“Have you come to a decision, Milania?” Dominic inquires around a sip of his coffee.

I feel, rather than see, Ren’s hazel gaze—one that matches his father’s—immediately flick my way, churning my stomach impossibly more. “Yes.” I nod, pushing my plate away. “Although, the decision was kind of made for me, really. I either do this or inevitably sign my death sentence, and I’m not looking to die under Vito’s hand, so…”

“Or you can just marry me and the same level of protection still stands,” Renzo chimes. “I would never let—”

Dominic’s fist meets the table, cutting my gaze to find him engaging in a staring contest with his son. “We talked about this last night, Renzo. Vito Costa will not retreat if she’s not reigning as queen. If you love her, you’ll do whatever it takes to keep her alive. This marriage is simply for protection. I’m not expecting her to magically fall in love with me.”

“So you’re good with me fucking your wife, then?” Ren quips, his tone free of any amusement. “‘Cause if we’re nixing the no Milania rule, then I’m taking my girl back, and she was a big fan of my dick.”

I nearly choke on my next breath at the same moment Dominic growls in protest. “I know damn well I taught you more manners than that. Have some damn respect.”

“Why?” my ex scoffs. “You didn’t respect me when I told you I loved her.”

“And you know the why behind that,” Dominic counters. “That could’ve been you last night, leaving me to plan a funeral rather than a wedding.”

“Ugh, a funeral,” I grumble at the daunting realization, dropping my face into my hands. “How the hell am I supposed to plan something for four pe—”

“We have some time, piccolina,” Dominic offers gently, and while I know it was meant to be comforting, hearing that nickname—little one—makes me wanna break out in tears all over again. That’s what my dad used to call my twin—Evelina Piccolina.

“Please don’t call me that.” The words come muffled against my palms. “That’s what my dad used to call my sister.”

“Yeah, old man,” Renzo chimes in. “Don’t call her that. She’s your soon-to-be wife, not your daughter.”

“Forgive me, Milania,” Dominic grates, the vexed undertone directed at his son. “As I was saying, we have time. We can’t do much until the coroner releases the bodies anyway, so for now, let’s focus on the wedding. The sooner we do this, the better.”

I glance up at him then, a fresh dose of anxiety sweeping through my veins at lightning speed. “How soon?”

He hitches a shoulder and pops a strip of bacon into his mouth. “Two weeks, I’d say, but it’s up to you.”

Two weeks? The thought makes me wanna blow chunks all over the table. Getting married to the man who put an end to my relationship is hard enough. Now I have to do it in days’ time? Fuck my life. “I…” I don’t even know how to reply to that.

How does one go about planning a wedding in such a short amount of time?

“You’ll have help,” my soon-to-be husband offers because, evidently, that wasn’t an internalized question. “Everything from color scheme to cake flavors will be taken care of. All you’ll have to do firsthand is select a dress.”

Color scheme. Cake flavor. A dress. My head spins a little more. These are all things I thought I’d be doing later on in life, with a man I loved, with my family by my side. “Who’s going to walk me down the aisle?” I whisper, moisture burning the backs of my eyes as the awareness slaps me across the face.

My dad’s gone.

He can’t give me away.

Can’t kiss my cheek and tell me how beautiful I look or how proud of me he is…

A firm yet equally gentle hand reaches over and seals around my wrist. “I will,” Renzo states. “I’ll hand you off to my father with the promise that, although you’re married to him on paper, you’re mine. Mine to love, honor, protect, and when he takes his last breath, then you’ll be my wife, my queen.”

I meet his awaiting stare, nothing but veracity and resolution in their brownish-green depths, then quickly cut over to Dominic, who’s also watching me intently. He nods just once in concession and reaches over, sealing his large hand around my other wrist.

“Like I stated earlier, I don’t expect you to love me, Milania. I know your heart still belongs to my son and vice versa. If it were enough for you to marry him, we wouldn’t be doing this, but you know how these things work. Once we unify our family legacies, the Costas will have no choice but to fall back. Unless, of course, they’re willing to wage a war they’ll never be able to win.”

CHAPTER FIVE

DOMINIC

IT’S BEEN a few days since Milania settled in, most of her belongings now brought over from her family’s residence. I hired a company specializing in forensic clean-up to make the place spotless and ready for sale, along with some help in the funeral planning department. After watching her break down halfway through casket shopping yesterday, I knew there was no way she was going to be able to do this alone.

Today, though, we’re not focusing on any of that. Today, I’m taking her dress shopping. Milania wasn’t pleased I’d be tagging along, claiming it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her dress at any point before the wedding, but I’m not a superstitious man. It’s not like we’re marrying for love. We’re marrying for her protection, merging two families and their businesses to create an empire and an army to match.

So here I am, the only male inside this dainty boutique, nestled on one of the couches in the showroom. She’s tried on five dresses at this point, some white, some ivory. They fit her beautifully, in my opinion, but she’s abhorred every single one. Now, she’s trying on a black dress. The saleswoman seemed rather taken aback when Milania inquired if they had any in the dreary color. I was, too, to be honest, but as the woman scampered away to find something my soon-to-be wife might like, she explained it was in honor of her family and the fact they couldn’t be there with us.

That was enough for me to be on board. Who am I to protest, anyway? I don’t need her in a traditional white gown to spout off vows that will, essentially, mean nothing.

“Dominic?” she calls out from the dressing room, grappling my attention away from my phone. When I cut my gaze upward, she’s poking her dark head out. “Can you help me with the buttons? I don’t know where the lady disappeared to.”

“Of course.” I nod, pocketing the device and striding over to her.

Not that she hadn’t looked stunning in the others, but as I lock the door behind us and pivot toward her, I find myself sucking in a heap of air at how exquisite she looks in this dress. Fitted with long sleeves, floral lace detailing, and buttons lining the back. It’s the sheer black lace that makes the dress dark, though. The slip beneath is more of a lighter gray. The gown clings to her subtle hourglass figure, flaring out about mid-thigh. Even undone, she’s a vision if I’ve ever seen one.

I can feel her eyes on me through the mirror as I get started on the buttons, working my way from the bottom up. As the last one fits through its hoop, I smooth them all down, my hands instinctively settling at her hips of their own accord.

“There,” I murmur, meeting her stare in our reflection. “Fits perfectly.”

“What do you think? Is it too much?” She regards herself as she asks this, tilting her head aside.

“It’s not too much at all. I think you look striking and radiant as ever.” The truth, too. She may be twenty years my junior, and she’s not mine, but she’s no less beautiful.

Her cheeks bloom, that much I don’t miss, a small smile quirking her lips. “I actually like this one.”

“So do I, and I’m willing to bet Renzo will like it, too,” I offer quietly, engulfing the small room in silence for several moments.

Milania turns to me then, peering at me beneath her lashes. “You know he was joking the other day, right?”

My brow perks curiously. “Joking about?”

“About, um, you know… having me while I’m married to you,” she clarifies.

“No, he wasn’t,” I chuckle, low and deep in my throat. “And as I stated, it’s okay. I’m not expecting anything remotely romantic from you, Milania. I tore you two apart, which I’m still hoping you’ll both understand some day, and while I am sorry to have caused you any pain, I won’t apologize for protecting my son. Unfortunately, you can see how serious the Costas were, and I didn’t want him possibly wrapped up in their vendetta against your family.”

“I do understand,” she nods, setting a small hand to my forearm. “I mean, I didn’t up until now that all of this has happened, but I do. He could’ve been killed and it would’ve been my fault.”

Precisely why I did it. Forbidding their relationship was nothing personal against her. She was good for him, is good for him. Her family’s ongoing war with the Costas, however, was not. “Perhaps one day you might find it in you not to hate me so much, then?” I probe gently, throwing in a thoughtful smile for good measure.

My future wife nods, giving a little squeeze to my arm. “As you pointed out the other night, I don’t think I ever truly hated you, per se. I hated the fact you split us up. It’s in the past now, no use in dwelling, all things considered. We need to focus on co-habitating and liking each other enough to work together for the sake of our business.”

I already like you, I think to myself, but I don’t relay as much. I can’t. She’s not mine, she never will be, and the least I can do after ripping her and my son apart is allowing them to have a second chance to be together.

Even if I’m the one she’s to call her husband.

“I both respect and appreciate your maturity.” Setting a feather-light kiss to her cheek, I spin her around to face the mirror once more. “It only reassures me you’ll make one hell of a mafia queen.”

CHAPTER SIX

MILANIA

I’M surprised at how easy it’s been to work alongside Dominic. He lets me speak, doesn’t make decisions for me, takes my concerns into consideration. We wrangled my father’s men and held a meeting regarding our desired coalescence. They agreed, of course, proudly stating they’d promised my father their continued allegiance to me should something ever happen to him. I never doubted them, but it was comforting to hear and only made me that much more confident that Dominic was right.

The Costas might wield a lot of power in this city, but they’re no match for a blended Fiorino-Salvatori army.

Knock, knock!

“Miss Milania?” one of the housekeepers pokes her head into my room. Giulia, I think her name is.

Freshly showered with a towel still wrapped around my body, I give her my full attention as I run the comb through my wet hair.

“Mr. Salvatori would like to see you in his office,” she states.

“Noted. Thank you,” I dismiss her with a small smile and she disappears with a gracious tip of her head, leaving me to dress swiftly and get my ass down there.

Five minutes later, I’m swooping inside his office with a quick rap of my knuckles to the open door. “You wanted to see me?”

Dominic nods from behind his desk, a pair of thick-framed glasses perched on his nose, and motions to the chairs facing his workspace.

His silence is rather unnerving, but I sink into one of the upholstered seats as instructed, crossing my legs and waiting for him to finish up whatever he’s doing.

“I wanted to talk to you about the ceremony and something that’s been weighing on my mind,” he starts, dropping the stack of papers in his grasp and reclining back in his throne.

Okay…

“What about it?”

“Well,” he sighs, removing his glasses and setting them on the oak surface before him. “When the reverend announces us as husband and wife, I’ll have to kiss you. You do realize that, correct?”

I mean, yes, that’s usually what happens at weddings, but I… hadn’t given it much thought. Until now. The idea of kissing Dominic is… I don’t know what, but my stomach somersaults, and I actually find myself gulping.

“I’ve already discussed it with Renzo,” he continues at my silence. “He understands it’s a necessary evil—his words, not mine, by the way. That said, I think we should at least familiarize ourselves with one another beforehand, so it’s not so… awkward when we’re on the altar.”

“What do you mean, familiarize ourselves?” I question, and why the fuck am I suddenly sweating?

His mouth pops open to reply, but nothing follows. He simply stares at me, and after a beat or two, rises to full height. “Stand up for me.”

Oh no.

My pulse skyrockets at the same moment my heart nearly falls out of my ass. I oblige to his request, though, gingerly rising from my seat as he saunters around his desk and stops within inches of me.

“Close your eyes,” he commands, his tone gentle and austere all at once.

I don’t, staring up at those striking tawny pools with what feels like a hoard of chaotic butterflies deep in my core as his scent invades me. It’s intoxicating, honestly, spicy and woodsy; leather, patchouli, a hint of sandalwood.

My head spins.

“Come on, work with me here. Close them,” he tries again, inching a step closer.

With my heart now hammering against my chest cavity, I follow his command, knowing exactly what he’s going to do, yet, somehow, completely taken by surprise when his capable hands seal around my face, and his lips gently press against mine.

There’s no instantaneous fireworks,nor does the sky open up with a chorus of angels singing Hallelujah, but my brain still seems to malfunction—severely—because Dominic Salvatori, the man who I’m forced to take as my husband in less than a week, my ex’s father who split us apart, is kissing me… and I… I like it?

What the fuck?

I, apparently, like it so much that when he eases back, I’m left feeling bereft, the softest whimper of protest bubbling in my throat. “I won’t break, you know…” I breathe, holding his gaze like a vise. “You can kiss me harder than that.”

Dominic’s eyes flash at my challenge. Inching another step closer, he sinks his hands in my hair and tugs my head back. “Are you saying my kiss lacks passion, Mila?”

I nod as best I can around his grasp, idly noting this is the first time he’s ever used the shortened version of my name. “Passion, force, dominance.”

“I was trying not to make you uncomfortable, considering I’m not Renzo,” he husks out. “I can assure you, though, my kiss lacks none of those things had I done so with intention.”

“Then do it with intention, Dom,” I coax him. The hell is wrong with me? “Kiss me the way a man is supposed to kiss his wife on their wedding day.”

And he does, God, does he ever. His grip tightens to the point my scalp prickles as his mouth crashes into mine all over again. He kisses me like his life depends on it, as though there’s a gun to his head or satisfying my demand is the key to his next breath.

What. The fuck. Is happening? That’s the most prominent question of them all. The immediate thought following?

But Renzo…

CHAPTER SEVEN

RENZO

I’VE MADE myself scarce the last few days because, truthfully, I just can’t fucking deal. The constant wedding talk is driving me up the goddamn wall, for one, and two—he kissed her. My father locked lips with the love of my life—a practice run, he claimed—and it’s taking everything in me not to lose my shit. He promised she’d be mine in every other way and now he’s falling for her? I’m not stupid. I see the way he looks at her, the little smiles he throws her way, the subtle touches.

And the worst part? She’s into it, too. I know what Mila looks like when she enjoys something, and she’s starting to enjoy his company more and more with each passing day, like she used to when she and I were dating. They always had a good relationship back then. Wasn’t until Dad split us up that she grew to hate him. Now she’s back in my life because of him and I feel like the third fucking wheel.

What’s next? He’s gonna fuck her, too, and claim it’s another test run?

The thought makes me instantly murderous as I burst into the house after a long, much needed gym session and stalk straight into the kitchen for my post workout shake. Low and behold, there’s Milania sitting at the island, digging into a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Phish Food.

“Hey, Ren,” she greets around the spoon, dragging it clean between her lips.

“Hey.” That’s all I offer, dropping my bag onto one of the stools. I shouldn’t take it out on her, I know, but I can’t fucking help it. She’s marrying him instead of me.

“How was the gym?” she inquires.

“Good.” Yanking open the fridge, I pull out the necessary ingredients and set them onto the counter. I hit the pantry next, grabbing the remaining components along with the blender.

Her focus is solely on me as I silently go about measuring everything out. When it’s clear I’m not going to elaborate or make small talk, she hops off the stool, stores the ice cream in its rightful place, and drops the spoon in the sink. Then she sidles up next to me, arms crossed, purposely inserting herself in my line of sight.

Blender now on full-blast, I flick my gaze to those rapt green eyes. “What?”

“What is your problem?” Her voice carries over the noise.

“Nothing.”

She’s not buying it, though, hitting the off switch before I can stop her. “Spit it out, Ren. What the hell is your problem?”

My eyes narrow of their own accord. “You know what.” And you know it damn well, too.

“I don’t, hence why I’m asking you,” she carps back.

The fact she’s playing stupid right now… Only irks me that much more than I already am. I have to inhale a deep breath and count to ten before replying. “Enjoy kissing my pops?”

“Ren,” she sighs after a beat or two, shaking her head. “You know it’s not like that. It was a—”

“Practice run? Yeah, I know,” I chuckle mirthlessly. “Let me ask you something… Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“No, but you’re acting like a dick when you know this is all—”

“For your protection, yeah, I know. But I see the way you two look at each other. He’s falling for you and you’re right behind him. Where’s that gonna leave me?”

“Right here.” She fists the front of my shirt and yanks me in her breathing space, smashing her lips into mine.

I’m stunned stupid for five seconds before instincts kick in and I’m pressing her flush to the counter’s edge. I kiss her like my father and this arranged marriage doesn’t exist, like she was still mine and there was no threat of someone ripping her away from me.

“You’re supposed to be mine again, Mila,” I mumble against her mouth, “Not his.”

“I am.” One last kiss and she pulls back, her grip on my shirt cinching tighter. “Regardless of the fact he’s allowing us to have a second chance, though, I have to be his, too.”

No, you don’t.

“Being married to him for the sake of protection and actually relishing his company are two different things. That little practice run altered shit in your brain.”

“I can’t deny the fact I felt something, yes, but I’m sure your dad didn’t set out for it to be that way. It just happened. I love you, Ren.” She shakes me a little. “I always will.”

“While you love him, too,” I grit.

“I don’t love him,” she emits.

“Yet. You don’t love him yet. Attraction leads to feelings and feelings lead to love.”

How can she not see that?

“I can’t think that far ahead. I can only think about right now. So yes, I want you and yes, I’m… somewhat attracted to him, too.”

I can’t even look at her, turning away as ire rips through my veins. “This is fucked.”

“It’s complicated.” She turns me back toward her, boring into me. “The Costas made it this way.”

“It’s fucked,” I stress. “I have to share my girl with my old man? The fuck?”

“For the sake of protection, yes. We’re all a team. A united front. You promised me you’d protect me.” Palms smoothing up my chest, she locks her arms around my neck, luring me in for another chaste kiss.

“I will, above all else.”

“Then let’s focus on that.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

DOMINIC

I KNEW RENZO WAS UPSET. He’s made that much clear since I propositioned Milania to marry me. Overhearing them last night, however, has made me feel like the biggest piece of shit.

Father of the Year Award goes to…

Protection or not, I promised my son he was free to rekindle their relationship, that he was free to have her in every way but marriage. And yet, here I am, finding myself more and more attracted to her as the days carry on. I knew she felt something when I kissed her; the way she melted into me gave her away. But hearing the confirmation that she’s somewhat attracted to me is… I don’t have words for it, honestly.

All I know is, regardless of what Milania said, for the sake of my son, I cannot allow myself to fall captive to her charms. We can stand as a united front without me inserting myself into a pre-existing relationship that I tore apart, albeit with good reason, but still tore apart, nonetheless.

Which is why, as we sit here at Bella Vita, enjoying a nice dinner in a secluded part of the restaurant, I focus more on my risotto and less on the woman I’ll be calling my wife in less than twenty-four hours. I’ve felt her eyes on me more than a handful of times, same as Renzo. I’m sure they’re curious about my silence, how aside from simple replies when spoken to and nodding at all the appropriate times, I’m virtually not here.

“Pa,” Renzo calls then, cutting my gaze up to where he sits.

“Mmm?”

“What are you so deep in thought about over there? You’ve said all of fifty words, if that.”

I’m about to reply when a sudden movement from my peripheral captures my attention. My head snaps that way so fast, I’m surprised it doesn’t snap clean off my neck. I’d say I’m taken aback to see Vito Costa and a few of his men clearing the threshold of the private room, one of them closing the doors to avoid the general public’s prying eyes, but I’ve been waiting for him to make his move. It’s no secret Milania has been under my protection since he slaughtered her family. We’ve been out in public purposely for his eyes and ears to catch wind.

“Well, if it isn’t Milania Fiorino,” he purrs quietly, fiddling with the button of his navy blue suit. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, piccolina.” Little one.

Milania stills for only a moment before rising from her seat and facing him head on. “What for? You got what you wanted. My family suffered at your hands.”

Vito chuckles mirthlessly, shaking his graying head. “And yet you’re still breathing, which means my problem is unsolved.”

“Looks like said problem will grow to be a permanent thorn at your side because Milania is to be my wife tomorrow, and if you touch what’s mine, you’ll swiftly earn yourself another enemy,” my voice booms, as I rise to full height and situate myself in front of her at the same moment Renzo slinks out of his seat, too.

The insufferable bastard rears almost his entire body backward. “She’s marrying you? That’s absurd.”

Why, ‘cause she’s fucking gorgeous and significantly younger?

“Mmm, yes, well, whether or not you think it’s absurd, she’ll rule over the Fiorino army along with the Salvatori faction by my side. You make a single move on my wife and you’ll have a war on your hands bigger than you’ll have the means to handle.”

“I have a well-built army, Dominic,” Vito titters. Your threats are—”

“Factual,” Renzo grits, now firmly at my side, blocking Milania from his view. “Take a look around, Vito. This isn’t even a quarter of our men. So unless you’d like to see yourself stripped down to a handful of your soldiers, I suggest you step down while you’re ahead.”

Said men from both the Fiorino clan and mine ascend from all the tables around us, glowers and trained gazes firmly set on the man intent on taking my wife’s life.

He wasn’t expecting that, clearly. While his stance and expression remain stoic, I don’t miss the way some of the color drains from his face as he scans the perimeter of the dimly lit room. His men flank him, of course, sensing imminent danger should they react, but even they don’t seem remotely confident. There’s four of them, five including Vito, against fifty.

And as my son stated, this isn’t even half of them.

“Wasn’t she your girl once?” Vito then directs at my son, drawing my stare on him to find his jaw tick for a moment, tattooed hands balling into fists at his sides.

“She is my girl,” he growls. “And she’s his, too. She’s ours.”

My chest puffs up with nothing but pride, righting my stance all the more. He might not be fond of my arrangement with Milania, but he’s mature enough to stand beside me and ensure her safety. In the end, that’s all that matters.

“Well… That’s different,” Costa quips, brown eyes flicking back and forth between me and my son in revolted confusion. “A bit incestuous for my tastes, but whatever floats your boat, I suppose.”

“She’ll be the Salvatori queen,” I assert, taking a step toward him and easily towering over his slim frame. “I needn’t remind you of what that means in our world. Touch her and, so help me God… you die.”

CHAPTER NINE

RENZO

FAMILY AND FRIENDS fill the pews of the cathedral, all of them patiently awaiting for the ceremony to start. My father stands beside me, looking his absolute best in an all-black suit. I want to be mad at him, I really do, because I’m still not fully on board with this whole thing—but it is what it is. Mila’s safety is top priority, and I think we made that more than abundantly clear to Costa last night before he took off with his men. Unless he has a death wish, he’ll stay far the fuck away moving forward.

“You ready?” I ask my dad.

He’s jittery as fuck, continuously messing with his tie even though it’s perfectly fine.

Dad scoffs, keeping his stare trained on the aisle ahead. “I haven’t been married since your mother, Ren. What do you think?”

“I think she’d say you’re doing the right thing. I’m sure she’s smiling down proudly right now.”

She never got to meet Milania, killed in a wreck a few years before her and I got together, but I think she would’ve loved her. And knowing that this is all to save her life from a family we’ve never backed? Yeah, she’d support this and my dad, regardless of their divorce.

Miss you, Ma.

“You think so?” he hedges.

I bob my head, and after exchanging a few words about how proud of me he is and how he plans to uphold his promise, he takes off for the altar, leaving me to shut the doors before Milania makes her way downstairs.

Which is sheer minutes later and leaves me fucking breathless, to be honest. For starters, the black dress… Wasn’t expecting that in the slightest, but she looks stunning as all hell. It suits her, makes those damned alluring green eyes somehow greener.

“Hey, Ren.” She smiles softly. “You look nice.”

“Me?” I chuckle. “Almost stunned me speechless, baby. You’re a vision in black.”

“Stop it.” Her elbow meets my side playfully, that smile stretching into a full-blown megawatt grin. “No need to flatter me. I know I look like Morticia right now.”

“A beautiful as hell Morticia,” I correct, holding out an arm for her. “I’d offer to be Gomez, but…”

A hiccup passes before she wraps a hand around my bicep. “Ren, don’t.”

“It’s fine, Mila. Cards we were dealt and all that. King status or not, you’re still fucking mine.” We may not have had much time to truly rekindle anything just yet, but once this wedding is over—game on.

“I thought you told Costa I was both of yours?” The question meets my ears just before the doors open again.

I turn my head toward her, dropping my gaze to fuse with her awaiting stare. “Oh, you are, but you were mine first. So although you’ll bear the Salvatori name because of him, you’re my queen just as much as you’re his—if not more.”

CHAPTER TEN

MILANIA

IT’S OFFICIAL.

I’m fucking married.

To Dominic Salvatori.

And I don’t know how I feel about that.

I mean, yes, there’s an attraction there… but we’re married… He’s my husband and I’m still in love with his son…

Fuck, this is nuts.

“I have something I’d like to show you,” Dominic says as we make our way into the house after the reception.

I glance up at him curiously, dying to get the hell out of this dress and stuff my face with my cheeseburger. I’m starving.

“Come on.” He offers a lopsided grin and tips his sparsely graying head for me to follow, starting up the stairs without another word.

I want to ask where we’re going but find myself following behind before the words work their way out of my mouth. Idly, I note we’re not only passing what’s been my bedroom for the last two weeks but trailing to the very end of the hall—better known as his bedroom.

Oh my God, is he about to show me his…

I can’t even help the thought as it races through the forefront of my mind. I mean, what else could he possibly have to show me in his room? My heart rate spikes, pulse thrumming wildly in my veins as my stomach does one of its trapeze flipping acts. I’m not entirely opposed to getting better acquainted with Dominic, but in the same hand, I have to worry about Renzo, too. He loves me… I don’t wanna hurt him by sleeping with his father when we haven’t even had the chance to be intimate ourselves. There hasn’t been much time between planning the wedding and that godforsaken funeral.

It’s virtually dark and utterly quiet when we make it inside Dom’s chamber, save for the slivers of moonlight peeking in through various windows lining the far side of the room. I haven’t even gotten a chance to really take a look around when his palms come around my eyes, shrouding me further in darkness. I gasp at his unexpected touch, a sharp inhale breezing past my lips.

“What are you doing?” the question leaves me on a breath.

Dominic doesn’t reply, carefully urging me further into his private space. It’s not until we come to a full stop that I feel his lips settle beside my ear. “Consider this my wedding gift to you, Milania.”

He removes his hands and the first thing I see is Renzo sitting at the edge of the bed, no suit jacket or tie, the buttons of his dress shirt completely undone.

The sight of that still very familiar body and all those tattoos sends a rush of lust licking up my spine. “Ren?” I couldn’t sound more confused if I tried, stare flicking back and forth between him and Dominic, who’s now at my side.

“What did I tell you before we walked down the aisle, Mila?” Ren’s voice pulls my focus away from his father.

“That I was yours.”

He tips his head, as if that explains everything. It doesn’t, prompting me to turn back to Dom, arms now crossed over his chest.

“Renzo is my gift to you, Milania, as promised. You deserve to enjoy your wedding night just as every other bride,” he imparts, and that’s when it clicks for me.

Attraction or not, he didn’t bring me up here for his pleasure. He brought me up here to consummate our marriage with his son rather than himself.

“I’ll give you two some privacy.” Another crooked smile and he makes way to leave.

Makes way being the operative words because I’m reaching out for him, sealing a hand around his arm before he takes three full steps. “You deserve to enjoy your wedding night too, Dom. Stay.” I know it’s wrong. I can’t possibly belong to or keep both men, not like this anyway, but I wouldn’t feel right letting him walk out of here when he just did something so selfless.

When he expects absolutely nothing from me other than to be his wife on paper.

Those hazel pools darken, his gaze tracking back and forth between me and his son. Renzo must give him some sort of approval because he erases the space between us, wrapping an arm around my waist. Purposeful fingers seal around my chin, locking our stares like a vise. “I don’t want you to offer yourself up to me out of pity, Mila. This isn’t part of the arrangement, and I know your heart belongs to my son.”

“It does, but there’s a flame burning for you too,” I whisper, hating the fact Renzo has to hear this in real time. “It’s new and different, and still developing, but there’s something there. I know you feel it, too.”

He nods, visibly swallowing down a lump in his throat. “I do, yes.”

“So stay then,” Renzo chimes in, closing the distance between us as well. “There’s no reason for you not to if you want her.”

“Son, I can’t,” Dominic sighs.

“You can. Will it be hella weird sharing my girl with my dad? Yeah, probably. But it’s about her, and she’s right… It’s your wedding night too. Stay. Watch. Participate. I don’t give a fuck as long as I get to have her for a few minutes by myself.”

They share a silent exchange… with me caught in the fucking middle. My heart feels like it’s about to blast up my throat and out of my mouth, the vein in my neck throbbing in time with the now overzealous pulse of my clit. I’ve never been with two men at once, let alone a father and his son, but my body is not remotely opposed to the idea. The moment Dom’s gaze slides down to meet mine, I feel Renzo’s trained on the back of my head.

Not for long, though.

Dominic spins me around, my focus colliding with Ren’s as he shrugs off his dress shirt and brings himself just inches away. Claiming my face, he fuses our lips and wastes no time seeking entrance into my mouth, his tongue playfully caressing the seam. As our tongues duel it out, I reach back for Dominic, humming appreciatively when I feel the heat of his presence at my back. I ease back from Ren’s mouth long enough to direct him. “The buttons. Undo them.”

My husband obliges, working each one effortlessly through the loops while his son tongue fucks my mouth. They work together to peel the sable garment off my body, letting it pool at my feet. I’m left in nothing but a lacy thong, my breasts exposed, the slight chill in the air puckering my nipples in excitement. Evidently, I’m not the only one who’s excited. Neither man hides their admiration for my body, matching groans renting the air around us.

“Clothes off, my kings. It’s only fair,” I purr.

Acquiescence times two. Renzo’s pants drop to the floor, meeting his shirt and my gown, in nothing but seconds as my husband shuffles off his own clothing behind me. When the jingle of his belt rings out, I know he’s as bare as the beautifully inked masterpiece in front of me. Crooking a finger at them both, I urge them closer, relishing the feel of being sandwiched between their bodies as my hands head south. With no clothing in the way, their impressive lengths are mine for the taking, allowing me to work them simultaneously as Renzo seizes my breasts, thumbing my nipples. Between him and Dominic’s lips along my shoulder, I’m shuddering right along with them.

“Fucking hell.”

“God-fucking-damn.”

I don’t know who says what, too lost in the delicious sensations zipping through my body. My only desire is to bring them to the edge, to please them both and make this good for them, comfortable for them. It’s not every day a father and his son share a woman at the same friggin’ time.

Pulling from Renzo’s mouth, I turn my head, allowing Dominic his rightful turn. He dives right in, a feral groan blasting past my lips as I squeeze his length and pump him harder. He’s as long as Ren… but thicker. Not that Renzo is lacking in the girth department, but holy fuck, this man’s cock is going to wreck me.

“Get on the bed, husband,” I mumble against his mouth. “Let me make you feel good.”

Dom eases back almost instantaneously, those hazel eyes boring into me, searching for I don’t know what. Uncertainty, perhaps? He finds none, obviously, a wicked smirk curling his lips before he slips from my line of sight. He’s already situated on the bed as I push Ren back toward it, my arms around his neck.

“Take my panties off, Ren. I want you to fuck me while I suck him off.”

“You’re gonna ruin us,” he growls, his tone playful yet utterly aroused, making quick work of stripping the black lace down my legs. “I better get the same treatment when he buries his cock deep inside you.”

“You know I will,” I grin. “Or maybe I’ll just have you both fuck me at the same time.”

Without waiting for his reply, I climb onto the bed and situate myself between my husband’s legs. His cock stands proudly at attention, waiting for me and all wicked plans. Seeing him like this does all types of shit to my brain. He’s literally an older version of Ren, minus the tattoos, a light smattering of dark hair taking residence on his chest instead. The man might be in forties, but let me tell you, his body looks just as good.

Taking hold of the base, I flick my tongue against the tip, my greens locked his hazels as I tease him, and the satisfied pinch of his brows as he watches only fuels me onward. No sooner do I begin my descent, bobbing up and down on his length with his hand threaded in my hair, when Renzo climbs behind me, throwing in his own brand of teasing to the mix. The head of his cock probes me, sliding between my pussy lips, priming me for his length. Doesn’t take much, to be honest. You can hear how wet I am, how aroused I am at the knowledge that I get to have Salvatori men at once.

“You ready, baby?” Ren husks out, slapping his length against my soaking cunt.

I nod with his dad’s cock in my mouth, wiggling my ass tauntingly.

Nothing but a breath and he’s pushing in, burying himself to the hilt until he literally bottoms out. He eases out and back in thrice, coating himself in my juices before going for it full force. The pads of his fingers dig into my hips for leverage, his strokes savage, frenzied, grunts and groans sounding off behind me as he fucks me with abandon. I try matching his tempo, eager to bring Dominic to ecstasy, but I can’t keep up, nearly choking on his length with every thrust.

Apparently, I don’t need to, the way he’s throbbing an obvious tell I’m giving it to him exactly the way he likes it.

“Where am I coming, Mila, ‘cause I’m right there,” he warns, pulling me off his cock.

“My ass, use it as lube,” I moan, vigorously working him with my hand. “Ren, get on your back before he comes.”

The younger Salvatori indulges me, quickly pulling out and falling onto the mattress with a grunt. I’m on top in a blink, sliding right back onto his cock, dropping all my weight on my arms to present Dominic with my ass. He’s behind me in sheer seconds, pumping himself, trailing a palm along both globes.

“Who would’ve thought such an angelic face could have such devilish thoughts?” he muses, giving my ass a quick slap before pressing the tip to the place only his son has ever taken.

And as he comes, shooting his hot load deep inside me, he slowly pushes his way in, too. Sliding out, and back in, out, and back in, over and over again until he’s filling me in entirety, and I’m so damn consumed by both men I have no clue where they start and I end.

It’s euphoric.

A little wrong and definitely unconventional.

But this is my life now, a queen adored in every way possible by two very capable kings, and aside from wishing my family were still breathing, I wouldn’t change it for the world.

I am Mrs. Milania Fiorino-Salvatori… and this is my story.

About the Author

Self-published romance author Dee Garcia was born and raised in Miami, Florida. A voracious fan of romance novels and long time lover of the written word, her mission is to craft unique, compelling, and deliciously dark stories that will give her readers a thrilling escape from the monotony of everyday reality. With fierce, headstrong heroines and sinful, possessive Alpha males weaved into her rousing tales, Dee hopes to leave her mark on the indie world, one decadent plot twist at a time.

To stay up to date on all things Dee Garcia books, sign up for my newsletter here or visit my website at https://www.authordeegarcia.com.

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THE COMIC CON

EXTENDED EPILOGUE

DEE LAGASSE

BIRDIE

I HONESTLY DON’T KNOW if I’ll ever come down from the high of the Suffra-Jette premiere. A theater filled with applause and the eruption of cheers when the credits started rolling were unimaginable when I first began this journey. I’m still waiting for someone to shake me and wake me up from this endless dream that has become my life.

While the crowd inside the theater was still abuzz, much to the security team’s dismay, Atticus and I snuck out and found fans lined up outside. By the time Shawn and the security team figured out where we were, we’d signed everything handed to us and took countless photos. I was awestruck by the number of cosplayers dressed as Jette.

The afterparty was just as memorable as the premiere itself, but that was just for us. There was no fanfare. It was just a celebration of love—love for each other and the movie we’d all created together from my little indie comic book. And champagne. So much champagne.

Atticus and I didn’t get back to our hotel room until close to three. I wish I could say that once it was just the two of us, we did some celebrating of our own, but equal parts punch-drunk and champagne drunk, we fell into each other’s arms and crashed shortly after our bodies hit the bed. Honestly, I’m surprised we managed to catch our eight o’clock flight back home to Boston.

At this point, I’m not sure if I’m delirious from the lack of sleep or if I’m still riding the wave of emotions from last night but being greeted by Parker at the door has me crying on the floor as he nuzzles into me. You would have thought we were gone for weeks instead of a day by the way he jumps all over me, peppering my face with puppy kisses. Within seconds, Atticus is on the floor with us. His eyes pinch with worry as he tries to both console me and give our Husky the attention that he’s demanding.

“It’s okay, baby,” Atticus says as he wipes the tears left on my cheeks. “We’re home now.”

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” I apologize, shaking my head. “I’m just overtired.”

“You’re not a mess,” he reassures me as Parker continues to jump between the two of us. “You just had a crazy night with very little sleep. Nothing a hot shower and a nap can’t fix.”

“That sounds perfect,” I agree, kissing Parker on the nose before pulling myself up from the floor.

With a Husky at our heels, Atticus and I head up the stairs together in silent synchrony. It’s a dance we’ve done together many times since I moved in. Atticus knows I won’t take time for myself without being prompted. When he’s home, it’s not out of the ordinary for him to get a bath started when I’ve been holed up in my office working or to bring me water and snacks. He’s also been known to send a masseuse when he’s away on set or schedule lunches with his aunt and sister to ensure I actually get out of the house more than my weekly trip to Maine for work.

Even now on very little sleep himself, he’s setting up the bathroom for me. The act may seem small to many, but for someone who spent years only relying on herself, these moments mean more to me than anything. It’s when we’re just Atticus and Birdie. There’s no paparazzi. No meetings with producers. No social media schedule or deadlines to worry about. We’re not an actor and a comic book writer. We’re just us.

When I step over the threshold into the bathroom connected to our bedroom, the scent of my favorite lavender shower steamer sends a wave of calmness over me.

“What did I do to deserve you?” I ask, taking a deep breath as I walk into the room.

“I ask myself that same thing every day.” Atticus smiles as he closes the space between us and presses a kiss to my forehead. “I’ll just be downstairs.” His hand softly grazes my stomach as he passes by. “Gonna go love on our boy a bit.”

Our boy. For someone who was so overprotective of Parker, it still warms my heart every time Atticus refers to him as “ours” or calls me “Parker’s mom.”

The lights are dim—a feature Atticus had installed after I moved in when he found out that taking scalding hot showers is my favorite form of self-care.

In fact, most of the bathroom has changed since my stay has become permanent. From the massaging showerhead to the speaker system currently playing soft rain sounds, Atticus went above and beyond to give me a space I could relax in. And the bathroom isn’t the only change he made…

One of the spare bedrooms was turned into an office space for me. I still go up to the Coolidge Comics office space every Wednesday, but the rest of the week, I bounce between the sunroom and my home office. Pictures of my family are scattered throughout the house. Our friends come over for game nights. The neighbors recognize me and wave when they see me out with Parker every morning. This is my home now too.

After I strip out of the sweatpants and the t-shirt that I traveled in, I step into the shower. The beading of the hot water massages my skin. I didn’t realize just how tense my shoulders were until they begin to drop and relax.

When I’m done in the shower, I throw on the oversized Captain America t-shirt I grabbed and a pair of boy shorts and make my way downstairs. I’m fully expecting Atticus to give me the side-eye when he sees me heading to my office. This isn’t the rest he was suggesting. I had an idea for the next issue of Ash when I was in the shower, though, and I know if I don’t jot it down, it will be lost forever.

I make it to my office without being detected. Midway through sifting through the pile on my desk, I remember the last place I worked before the premiere was in the sunroom. My idea notebook must still be in there.

The house is eerily quiet. As I walk down the hallway, I suspect I’ll find Atticus and Parker napping together on Parker’s favorite lounge chair. Atticus was so busy taking care of me that he didn’t acknowledge his own exhaustion, but he was also running on caffeine and very little sleep today. And Parker would be all about that snuggle life.

Sure enough, I find Atticus and Parker in the sunroom, but they’re not napping. There’s a lot to take in. Giant bouquets of tulips and daffodils fill the room. A bottle of champagne and two glasses are sitting in an ice bucket off to the side.

“Atticus?” I ask, glancing around the room. “What is all this?”

Parker seems unfazed by all the commotion. Stretched out on his favorite chair in the room, he picks his head up just long enough to see that it’s just me before he lazily drops it back down onto the cushioned fabric.

“Birdie!” Atticus exclaims, his eyes widening. “I didn’t hear you come down. Shit, shit, shit.”

My brows pinch in confusion as Atticus looks around, panicked. His shoulders fall as he exhales, but his defeat only lasts a moment. A small smile grows on his lips as the blues of his eyes grow brighter.

“Well, since you’re here,” Atticus begins. In one motion, he reaches for my right hand as he drops down on one knee. With his free hand, he motions for Parker to join us. With everything else going on, I didn’t notice the bright blue bowtie attached to the front of Parker’s collar. Sunlight catches the solitaire diamond ring hanging from the middle of the bowtie and I gasp when I realize what’s happening. “Parker and I have a question for you.”

My heart races with anticipation as butterflies flutter joyously in my stomach.

“Yes. Yes. Yes.”

“We didn’t even ask yet!” Atticus laughs as he unfastens the bowtie from Parker’s collar and slides the ring off. His eyes find mine once again before he continues, “We couldn’t imagine a life without you in it. So, Parker and I would like to know if you’d do us the honor of spending the rest of forever with us.”

“Yes.” My voice cracks as I nod my head. “The honor would be all mine.”

When he’s back on two feet, Atticus slides the ring onto my finger. The second that it’s securely placed, his hands cup my face and his lips crash down on mine. The world around us stills. It’s cosmic and completely unexplainable how everyone and everything cease to exist as I’m pulled under by his touch. Atticus Cohen is a force of nature, and his love is a tidal wave I’m willing to spend the rest of my life drowning in.

An opportunity I’ll now get, as promised by the ring on my finger. When he pulls backs, breaking our kiss, Atticus reaches back down for my left hand.

“I know the ring might not be what you were expecting or hoping for, but it was my mom’s.”

At that, the tears welling in my eyes begin to fall freely. There isn’t another ring on this earth that could mean more than this one. I know Atticus wishes his parents were here, and I would give anything to make that possible, but instead I will spend the rest of my life being a wife worthy of wearing his mother’s ring.

“It’s better than anything I could have ever hoped for,” I assure him as he tries his best to catch a stream of tears cascading down my cheeks. I’m surprised after the last twenty-four hours there’s any water left in my body to produce tears. “Speaking of moms, I better call mine soon. She’ll be so upset if she’s not the first one to know her daughter is engaged.”

“Oh, they know. I asked them for their blessing weeks ago.” Atticus smirks. “And let me just clarify I did not ask for permission. I knew if you found out I asked ‘for permission’ to marry you, this engagement wouldn’t last very long. I did, however, want to make sure they were okay with this. I know how much your parents mean to you and, admittedly, I wanted to walk into this moment knowing everyone is on our side. My aunt knows too—she had my mom’s ring. I didn’t tell Campbell, though. You’ll definitely want to call her.”

The fact that Atticus didn’t assume my parents, who have made it crystal clear they adore him, would be okay with him proposing is just so him. I can just picture my dad stringing him along before pulling him into a bear hug. Mom cried, for sure. Especially if she knows about Atticus’s mother’s ring.

But the icing on this already extremely sweet proposal cake is that Atticus understood I would still need someone to genuinely squeal with, so he didn’t tell my best friend.

“You know, if I had known you were going to propose, I would have at least put on pants.” I laugh, looking down at my bare legs.

Atticus chuckles as he pulls me close to him again. “Nothing went as either of us expected this moment to go. But that’s pretty on par for us, isn’t it? Nothing like what either of us expected and still, somehow, exactly as it should happen.”

“Oh, man.” I groan, looking up at Atticus. My fiancé. God, I can’t wait to just say that all the time. Atticus Cohen, my fiancé. “Can you imagine what our wedding is going to be like, then?”

“I can’t wait.”

About the Author

Dee Lagasse is a mom of three from New England. When she isn’t writing, she can be found hiking in the woods with her family, reading comics, or harassing her husband to reach for something on the top shelf.

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THE DOM SHE NEEDED

BONUS EPILOGUE

DEIDRE-ANN ANDERSON

GABBY

TIME STILLED as I slid down to the ground next to the toilet and watched as Chloe set the pregnancy test down on her bathroom island next to the sink.

A baby would change everything.

Pike wasn’t ready for a baby … was he?

Horrid thoughts rotated through my mind as the clock above the sink barely moved.

It had been a little over two years since Pike and I agreed to give our love a try. But we had both known that we’d need time before diving into a fully-fledged family or marriage.

Pike and I had joint forces and saved enough to purchase an art gallery. The plan had been to give it a few years to take off before making any major decisions.

Having a baby?

Hell, that was one of the biggest decisions I’d ever have to make in my life.

Chloe slid down next to me and grabbed my hand. “Come on, Gabs, you’ve got to relax.” She paused to hold in a laugh. “Besides stressing isn’t good for the baby.”

I lowered my eyes at her and squeezed her hand hard. She burst out laughing.

“That’s not funny Chlo,” I said with a sigh. “Pike and I agreed to take things slow, remember? Plus, we’re only just getting his gallery off the ground. We aren’t ready … Scratch that, I’m not ready to have a whole little human growing in me.”

Chloe sighed the opened her mouth as if to say something, but the timer went off before she could respond.

She met my eyes, and I shook my head so hard I was surprised my neck remained intact.

“I can’t look,” I admitted, pulling my knees into my chest, and hugging them. “I can’t.”

Chloe nodded, stood, and walked over to retrieve the test. My eyes were trained on her.

“What does it say?” I asked as soon as she had it in her hands.

I was filled with a mix of emotions. I was scared as shit, but a part of me, a really small part, knew how great of a dad Pike could potentially be, and wanted to share that experience with him.

“Chloe,” I yelled when she hadn’t responded that very second.

“Don’t freak out, okay,” she said turning to face me, a huge smile on her face.

My heart stopped.

“Gabby, you’re gonna be a mom,” Chloe said, all smiles.

I stared at her for what felt like forever before finally speaking.

“Are you sure?” I asked, reaching out for the test.

Chloe handed it over and I looked down at the pink cross in the control window.

“I’m pregnant,” I whispered more to myself than to her.

Chloe nodded, fell to her knees, and pulled me into a hug. “You’re going to be an amazing mom, Gabs. I just know it.”

I nodded but said nothing. I wasn’t sure what to say or do. But I knew I had to make a decision, and I needed to tell Pike … after work.

“I should probably get back to the gallery before Pike starts getting worried,” I said pulling back, my mind still running on overdrive. “He believes I just went for a coffee run.”

Chloe nodded and stood before helping me up.

“Do you mind not telling anyone about this, yet?” I asked.

The excitement on her face faded a little but she nodded.

“Of course. Your secret is safe with me.”

I blew out a breath and nodded. “Thanks, Chlo. I’ll see you soon.”

“Yup,” she said walking me to the door. “And don’t worry, everything will work out the way it’s supposed to.”

I wasn’t so sure about that, but I nodded and forced a smile before making my way to the coffee shop, the pregnancy test boring a hole in my purse.

I had a lot of thinking to do, and not much time to do it. Luckily, today was a design day for me so, I wouldn’t have to face Pike until I was ready. Even if I was ignoring him, he’d assume I was just concentrating on my digital paintings.

The drive to the coffee shop happened in a blur. I was still in shock, and part of me still didn’t believe it. How could I be pregnant? I mean, I knew it was possible, but …

I walked into the coffee shop and made my way to the counter.

“Hi, what can I get you?” The barista, a young girl with bright blue hair smiled at me.

“Just a coffee, black please,” I said, my mind still elsewhere.

I paid for my coffee and made my way back to the office, lost in thought the entire time.

I had to tell Pike. He deserved to know, but … how? And when? After work, tonight seemed like the best option, but I was scared. What if he freaked out? What if he didn’t want anything to do with me or the baby?

I couldn’t think like that, I scolded myself as I walked into the office and made my way to my desk. I had to trust that Pike would do the right thing, no matter what that meant.

I sat down at my desk and pulled out my phone, sending Chloe a quick text letting her know I made it back to the office safely.

After a few minutes of just staring at my phone, I finally put it away and turned on my computer, determined to get some work done.

But try as I might, I couldn’t focus. My mind kept wandering back to the pregnancy test and what it meant for my future.

I was going to be a mom.

The thought both scared and excited me, and I had no idea what to do next. My phone rang out pulling me from the fog building in my mind.

Shit, it’s Pike.

I took a deep breath, not wanting to spill my guts to him over the phone and answered as casually as I could.

“Hey baby.”

His voice was like a balm to my frayed nerves. “I missed you today.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “I just had some stuff I needed to take care of.”

“Oh, okay,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “I was just wondering if you wanted to grab dinner tonight. I know you said you had a lot of work to do, but I miss you and I thought maybe we could take a break.”

I hesitated, not sure what to say. I wanted to see Pike, more than anything, but I didn’t want to lie to him.

“Babe?” he asked, concern lacing his voice. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I said quickly. “I’m fine. Just thinking.”

“Okay,” he said slowly. “So, dinner tonight?”

I took a breath and blew it out before answering. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

“Good,” he said, sounding relieved. “I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“Sure,” I said, my stomach fluttering with nerves.

“Great, see you then.”

“See you.”

I hung up the phone and stared at it for a moment before setting it down on my desk. I had to tell Pike tonight, there was no way around it. I just hoped he would understand.

I PACED BACK and forth in my apartment, waiting for Pike to arrive. I had changed my outfit about five times, finally settling on a pair of skinny jeans and a flowy blouse. I wanted to look casual, but still nice.

There was a knock on my door, and I took a deep breath before answering it.

“Hey,” Pike said, pulling me into a hug as soon as I opened the door. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” I said, burying my face in his chest and inhaling his familiar scent.

He pulled back and looked at me, his eyes searching my face. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been really quiet since you got back from your break.”

“I’m fine,” I said, giving him a small smile. “Just tired, I didn’t sleep well last night.”

That much was true, I had been so nauseous last night that I couldn’t even lie down in one spot, much less sleep. That was the main reason I decided to take the stupid pregnancy test today.

“Okay,” Pike said, still watching me closely. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” I said, reaching up to kiss him.

He kissed me back eagerly, his hands coming to rest on my hips.

“Let’s go,” he said, pulling away reluctantly. “I’m starving.”

“Me too,” I lied, my stomach in knots.

We made small talk on the way to the restaurant, and I was relieved when the conversation stayed light. I was grateful Pike didn’t seem to notice how preoccupied I was.

We ordered our food and Pike reached across the table to take my hand.

“I’m glad we’re doing this,” he said, smiling at me. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” I said, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’ve just been really busy lately.”

“It’s okay,” he said, brushing his thumb over the back of my hand. “I know you’re busy. But I’m glad we could finally have a night to ourselves.”

I smiled at him, but the knot in my stomach was growing tighter by the second. I knew I had to tell him soon, but I was having a hard time getting the words out.

“Pike,” I said, finally mustering up the courage to speak. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“What is it?” he asked, his brow furrowed in concern.

I took a deep breath and blew it out before answering. “I’m -”

The waitress returned with our order before I could finish my statement, and I sighed.

“You’re what?” Pike prompted after the waitress had left.

“Nothing,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s not important.”

“If it’s not important, then why were you going to tell me?” he asked.

I hesitated, trying to think of a way to stall for time. “It was just something that happened at work today. But it’s not a big deal, so don’t worry about it.”

“Okay,” Pike said, though he still looked concerned. “If you say so.”

I nodded and forced myself to take a bite of my food, even though I had lost my appetite. I knew I couldn’t put it off any longer, I had to tell Pike tonight. He was the most understanding man I knew so, I had no idea why it was so hard to just say the words.

“So,” Pike said, after a few moments of uncomfortable silence. “Will I ever get to see those digital paintings you’ve been working so hard on?”

“What?” I said, thrown off by the sudden change in subject.

“Your paintings,” he said. “You’ve been working on them for weeks now, but you won’t let me see them.”

“Oh,” I said, my mind racing as I tried to think of an excuse. “They’re just not ready yet. I’m still working on them.”

“Okay,” Pike said, though he looked doubtful. “I just want to see what my girl is up to, that’s all.”

“I know,” I said, reaching across the table to take his hand. “And I promise, as soon as they’re done, you’ll be the first one to see them.”

“I’d better be,” he said, smiling at me.

I smiled back, but my stomach was in knots.

He studied me for a second before nodding to someone behind me.

He smiled. “I have a surprise for you.”

I turned around to see what the surprise was, but there was nothing there. When I turned back to face him, there was a small black ring box in his hand.

“Pike,” I whispered, my heart pounding in my chest.

He slid out from his seat and went on one knee before opening the box to reveal a beautiful diamond ring.

“Marry me, Gabby,” he said, his voice shaking slightly. “Make me the happiest man in the world.”

My eyes went wide.

“I know we said we would wait, but these past two years have been like heaven on earth to me. You are the only reason I even look forward to the future. So, there is no world that I can see that has me without you.”

Tears streamed down my face, and I could barely see him through the blur.

“Of course,” I said, nodding furiously. “Yes, Pike. A million times yes.”

He slipped the ring on my finger and stood up to pull me into a hug.

“I love you,” he whispered, as he held me.

Cheers erupted from behind me, and a camera flash went off. I turned, in shock to see Chloe, Drew, and Nico cheering behind us.

“We knew you would say yes!” Chloe squealed, as she came over to give me a hug.

“But how?” I asked, still in disbelief.

“Pike called us yesterday and told us his plan,” Nico said, smirking at Pike. “He was so nervous he could barely string two sentences together.”

“I had no idea you guys were here,” I said, turning back to Pike.

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” he said, shrugging. “But I guess the cat’s out of the bag now.”

I laughed and hugged him again.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “This is the best surprise ever.”

“I love you,” he said, kissing me gently.

“I love you too.”

Chloe moved to stand behind Nico so, I could see her mouth to me to tell Pike I was pregnant. But, before I could even open my mouth, he beat me to it.

“So, are you ever going to tell me what’s really been going on with you?” Pike asked, pulling back to see my face.

I pulled in a breath, there was never going to be a better time than this.

“We’re pregnant,” I blurted out, much louder than I’d anticipated.

“What?” Pike asked, his eyes going wide.

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I know we weren’t planning on this, but-”

“But it’s perfect,” he interrupted, pulling me into another hug. “Absolutely perfect.”

He pulled back and kissed me again, this time with more passion than before.

“I love you,” he said again, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “Do you know what would make this a perfect night?”

I met his eyes, concern building in me. “What?”

“If we went home as husband and wife.” His eyes grew dark as they met mine. “What do you say?”

It was my turn to have wide eyes. “You want to get married right now?”

He nodded, a small smile on his face. “I know it’s not traditional, but I can’t think of anything I want more than to complete our family.”

“Yes,” I said, without hesitation. “Let’s do it.”

Nico and Drew whistled while Chloe let out a squeal. Chloe came over to hug us again.

“We’ll go get the car ready,” Drew said, as Nico and Chloe started to herd us towards the door.

“Are you sure about this?” I whispered to Pike, as we were being shuffled out.

He nodded and squeezed my hand. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

We got married that night in a small ceremony at city hall. Chloe and Drew were our witnesses and Nico took pictures as we signed the marriage certificate.

It was perfect.

Just like our family.

Did you enjoy this bonus epilogue? Check out the novella, The Dom She Needed in my Nightcap Novella series currently on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited!

About the Author

Deidre-Ann Anderson is a Jamaican-born author living in Canada, and full-time freelance writer, who firmly believes that with hard work and dedication anyone can make a living from what they enjoy.

She has been a storyteller for most of her life and cannot wait to share all the rigorous love stories of the characters living in her head.

To find out more about books, news, and more, sign up to Dee’s Writing Corner!

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SHARDS OF HOPE

DONNA GRANT

CHAPTER ONE

DREAGAN

ULRIK ROLLED over and reached for Eilish. His hand met the cool sheets of the bed. Instantly, his eyes were open. He looked from the empty spot beside him to the room at large, but his mate was nowhere to be seen. This was the fifth night in a row that he had reached for her and she wasn’t there. Usually, she was in the room, but not this time.

He threw off the covers and rose from the bed, grabbing a pair of sweatpants that he had discarded over a chair. He shoved his legs inside them and was out the door. Once in the corridor, he peered first one way, then the other. The manor was quiet with light coming from the moon spilling through the windows and the soft glow of a lamp from beneath the bottom of a couple of doors.

Ulrik knew Eilish wouldn’t disturb any of the other couples, but he was concerned enough to find her. He strode toward the stairs and looked over the banister. He caught a glimpse of her robe before it vanished out of sight. Ulrik launched himself over the rail and landed silently on the main floor.

He turned his head the direction Eilish headed and followed. Her silver robe billowed behind her as she walked through the moonlight as silent as a ghost. She paused outside the library and reached for the handle. Ulrik stilled, watching. Waiting. A red-orange glow of firelight seeped beneath the bottom of the doors. A feminine laugh sounded from within, followed by a deeper, masculine chuckle. Another Dragon King and his mate were inside. Eilish lowered her hand and continued walking. Ulrik followed her, his unease growing.

He started to call out to his mate when she diverted and headed into the conservatory. He was some twenty paces behind her when he slipped into the room. It was easy to spot her long, dark locks and the bright sheen of her silk robe among the greenery. As she meandered through the plants, her hand rose, fingers caressing each leaf and flower. The long, bell-shaped sleeves of the robe fell back to expose the winding tattoos on her arms, made of the same special red and blink ink that marked each King with their dragon tattoos. There were more of the winding tats on her legs. They were from a time when he had nearly lost her. She had been trapped… somewhere. They still didn’t know where it had been, but he’d found her and brought her back, none the worse for wear other than the new tattoos.

They didn’t bother her, or so she said. But Ulrik knew that she had received them for a reason. They might not know what that was yet, but he suspected they would eventually. What bothered him the most was how her tats were the same color as a King’s. Magic gave them their tattoos. Was that what had marked Eilish? Was that what kept her up?

Ulrik saw her profile when she turned to the side. Her beautiful face was pinched in worry lines. His heart clutched. What was wrong with his mate that she couldn’t tell him? They shared everything.

Or they usually did.

Something bothered her enough to keep her from sleep. And from telling him. That would end tonight. Whatever it was, they would deal with it. Together. It’s how they had defeated his uncle. It’s how they approached everything.

Ulrik cut through one of the aisles of plants and started toward her. The tall, potted trees prevented him from keeping his eyes on her. When he emerged, he saw her glide through the hidden door that exited into Dreagan Mountain, a place he and the other Dragon Kings used before and after their patrols of the sixty thousand acres they called home in the Scottish Highlands.

He trailed Eilish into the mountain. The tunnel was lit by the magic of the Dragon Kings. They could see as well in the night as during the day, but the mates didn’t have such an ability. Her steps were purposeful as she strode through the twisting shaft, passing openings that led to other tunnels and caverns they used for meetings, interrogations, and, not so long ago, even as a prison.

Eilish stopped once she the tunnel opened up to the cavern at the back of the mountain. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared out the massive opening that was vast enough for the largest of them—which included himself as King of Silvers, and King of Dragon Kings, Constantine—to fit through when they were in their true form. The cavern itself was enormous, with a ceiling that soared high above them and allowed natural light to spill in and showcase the dragon carvings that graced the walls. Many that he, himself, had etched into the rock.

She walked to one and stood before it. He hung back, watching curiously as she lifted a finger and traced the carving. When she sighed loudly and rested her forehead against the stone, he’d seen enough.

Ulrik came up behind her and covered her hand with his. Her head lifted and swung to him. He looked into her green-gold eyes and saw pain. “I think it’s time you told me what’s going on.”

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

At the strain he heard in her American accent tinged with Irish, he pulled her against him. She wound her arms about him and rested her cheek against his chest. Ulrik kissed the top of her head and tamped down the mounting unease.

“Whatever it is, lass, we’ll deal with it. Just tell me.” When she didn’t immediately reply, he said, “Please. I doona like you hurting. Let me help.”

“I’m not sure you can.”

“I know I can no’ unless you share what’s keeping you from sleep. And our bed.”

Eilish raised her head and met his gaze. “I fall asleep. That’s not the problem.”

“Then what is?”

“The dream.”

He frowned. “Dream. One dream?”

“The same every night for the last five.”

His stomach clenched in dread. “What is it?”

“A cave.”

Ulrik paused, wondering if he heard her right. “A cave? This cave?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Come,” he said and took her hand to lead her back to the manor. “We’re going to get you some tea so you can start at the beginning and tell me everything.”

She threaded her fingers with his. “I wasn’t excluding you. Or I didn’t mean to make it feel as though I was. I’m just…” She shrugged.

“I know, love,” he said and lifted her hand to kiss it.

They didn’t speak again until they were in the kitchen. Ulrik sat her at the table and heated the water in the electric kettle. He lifted two bags of loose-leaf tea, both of which had come from Zora, the realm where their dragons resided. The tea was crafted by Nia, a resident of Zora who fell in love with Shaw, the quietest of all the Kings.

“Lavender chamomile or matcha rose?” he asked.

She shrugged, not bothering to look at either. “You pick.”

Eilish loved tea. She chose her blends based on her moods. The fact that she was uninterested spoke volumes. Knowing his mate as he did, he made a cup of each. He leaned against the counter as they brewed. Eilish stared out the window with a faraway look, her dark waves falling becomingly against the silver of her robe. Beneath was a short slip of a gown in a slightly darker silver.

Ulrik added honey to both cups and brought them to the table. He sat the lavender chamomile before Eilish.

“Thank you,” she said and wrapped her hands around the cup. After she warmed them, she took a sip of the brew.

Ulrik folded his hands together atop the table and waited.

She licked her lips and played with the handle of the mug. “There isn’t much to tell. It’s a cave.”

“Describe it for me. We dragons tend to love caves. If I doona know of it, one of the others might. One way or another, we’ll find it.”

She took another drink, then set it aside and reached for his cup. After two sips, she wrapped her hands around the matcha rose blend, claiming it for her own. Ulrik grinned at her swap, but it wasn’t unusual.

“It’s dark and cold,” Eilish said, a small wrinkle marring her brow.

He frowned as she shivered, as if she stood in the cave at that very moment. “Is anything in there with you?”

“No. I’m alone. Something keeps bringing me to the cave, to that exact spot.”

“Can you see anything around you?”

“Rocks,” she stated, shooting him a flat look.

Ulrik rested his hand atop her arm. “Did you see an entrance?”

“There is light. It’s faint and coming from the side. In the dream, I try to turn toward it, but I can’t. I’m staring at a wall.”

“What’s on it?”

“Carvings.”

A fission of awareness shot through him. “What kind?”

“There’s no design to it. It’s like a child was let loose in there. Etchings on top of others. No discernable pictures or writing. At least none that I can make out.”

Ulrik sat back and dropped his hands into his lap. Shock reverberated through him. It couldn’t be. Surely not. He looked away as his mind struggled to make sense of what Eilish had told him. It had been eons of time, but no matter how much time passed, he’d never forget that cave. But…how could she know it? He’d told no one what he’d done within its walls.

And he wanted it to stay that way.

“The wind.” Her gaze slid to him. “I hear wind in the cave. It howls, as if I’m—”

“Verra high up.”

Her lips parted in shock. She searched his eyes for a long, silent minute. “Do you know this cave?”

Unfortunately. “Aye.”

“Where is it?”

“The Caucasus Mountains.” He had to be wrong. Please let him be wrong, but even as he silently said the words, he knew he wasn’t. Whether it was something to do with Eilish being a Druid, or the magic that welled up on Dreagan, she had been shown his cave.

She nodded firmly. “I need to see it in person.”

Blood rushed in his ears as dread soured his stomach. He broke into a cold sweat.

Eilish rose. “Let’s go now.”

“I-I’ll tell you where it is.” He could barely get the words out.

Slowly, she sank back down and studied him. “Tell me?” she repeated softly. “Why not take me?”

“I swore I’d never return. I willna. I can no’.”

Her face went slack, and she squeezed her eyes closed briefly. “Of course. It’s where you were during your banishment.”

He nodded, unable to speak.

“The dreams want to show me something. I need to go,” she told him. “I understand if you can’t. I wouldn’t want to return to a place like that either. But I have to go. There’s something there for me to see.”

“There’s nothing there.” He knew that for a fact.

She squeezed his hand. “I have to do this. I can’t explain why.”

Ulrik was so lost in memories that barely felt her lips on his as she kissed him. He watched her walk from the kitchen. He wanted to call her back, or to follow, but he couldn’t. Those horrible recollections had hold of him. He thought he had faced them and accepted the past, but he hadn’t. Not fully.

There was no reason for Eilish to see that cave, to see him at his worst. When madness had taken him. She would see how crazed his mind had been, how utterly unhinged. She might even discern how many times he had attempted to take his own life, only to continue to live. He had cursed the fact he was a King unable to be killed except by another King. He had cursed Con and the other Kings. He had cursed everyone and everything, his hate turning him into something that he hadn’t recognized.

That place was a reminder of everything he had lost. When he’d ventured from that cave the last time, he’d vowed never to return. In all the centuries since, he hadn’t.

He’d come back from that time of his life he wished he could erase. He had once more taken his place with the other Kings at Dreagan, and he had found his mate. He wasn’t that same person.

Or was he?

Was that what kept him away? Because the cave would show who he truly was? If Eilish saw, would she still love him? She could leave him and find another, but dragons mated for life. He was bound to her, heart and soul, for the rest of his life.

Ulrik stood up so fast the chair toppled backward. He rushed from the kitchen and took the stairs three at a time after her. He burst into their room to find Eilish dressed and putting on the silver finger rings that allowed her to teleport.

“Doona go,” he pleaded.

CHAPTER TWO

EILISH HAD WITNESSED her mate in many circumstances, but she’d never seen him gripped by such trepidation. His breathing was rapid, and his eyes held a wild look about them that frightened her.

But his request cut her to her very soul.

Despite the many times they had spoken of his past, Ulrik was still held by it. The only way he would ever truly be free was when he faced it, and she wouldn’t force him. It would have to be on his own terms. She knew he’d get there eventually, but that wasn’t his issue tonight. It was about her seeing his past.

A part of him that remained forever, waiting for someone to stumble across it. He didn’t care if it was strangers. They would never know who had marked up the walls or what he had been through that brought him to such a place. No, his concern was her seeing it.

She walked to him and placed her hands on his chest. “I love you. Heart and soul, sweetheart. There is nothing from your past that scares me. You’ve told me all of it.”

“Telling is one thing. Seeing…is quite another.”

“You think I’ll look at you differently.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw. “I know you will.”

“Then you don’t know me at all if you believe that.”

He turned away, shaking his head. “You willna be able to help it.”

“It’s just some drawings.” She didn’t point out that she had seen some of them in her dream. That might make things considerably worse.

He halted with his back to her, his hands braced on the wall, as if that was all that held him up. “I might have…glossed over some things when I told of you of that time.”

“Do you remember when we met? You were still banished from Dreagan. You and Con so at odds that you wanted to challenge him for the position of King of Kings.”

“Aye. I recall all of that.”

“You told me then that you recognized the darkness I carried.” She walked to him but didn’t touch him. “You saw that darkness because you carried it as well.”

He turned his head slightly. “You might have had some, but it was nothing to what I possessed.”

“That darkness was anger, love. Rage and exasperation. And frustration. It might have consumed you for a time, but you set that aside. You joined Con and the other Kings to defeat your uncle. That decision led you back into the fold with your brethren. That’s why you were so lost and enraged. You need them. You need Dreagan.”

Ulrik blew out a breath and dropped his arms. Then, slowly, he faced her.

She cupped his face and stared into gold eyes as a lock of black hair fell over his forehead. He was a Dragon King. Commanding, powerful, cunning. Drop dead gorgeous. And hers. He had helped her through rough times. Just as she was going to be there for him now.

“I see you. The man who was betrayed by a lover, whose friends loved him so much they sought revenge on his behalf.”

“A dragon who began the war with the humans and ruined everything.”

She shook her head seeing some of the panic fade from his eyes. “That war would’ve happened eventually. That isn’t solely on you. And trust me, Con knew what he did when he and the other Kings searched for your lover. You know what else I see?”

His gaze searched hers. “What?”

“I see a man who was utterly lost once. His soul adrift in a world he didn’t understand or want. A man who came back from the very brink and found a path that he could walk. Maybe that path was originally set on bringing down his best friend, but in the end, that road led the two to reunite and wipe the past away. That path led you to me. To this very moment.”

His shoulders dropped as he pulled her against him. She held him tightly, pouring all of her love between them.

They remained like that for several moments. Then, Eilish said, “One day, you should face the cave and whatever hold it has over you. I think it’ll be what fully heals you so you can release the past once and for all.”

“Your right,” he whispered. “I’ll go with you.”

She pulled back and shook her head. “That’s not what I meant. You need to go on your own time. If it means that much that I don’t go until then, then I won’t. Not until you’re ready.” As much as her dreams were shouting at her to find the cave, she would ignore them for him. Because she loved him that much.

“You said you needed to see the cave,” Ulrik replied.

Eilish shrugged. “It can wait.”

“The dreams are trying to tell you something.”

“Maybe I’m reading too much into them.”

He gave her a stern look. “You’re a Druid, love. You never read too much into anything. We’ll go.”

“Honey, no,” she said, trying to hold him when he walked away.

He paused and looked at her. “You’re right about everything you said. I need to face the past.”

“Not tonight.” Why hadn’t she realized the cave still upset him? She should’ve seen it, should’ve recognized his hesitation. If only she would’ve kept her mouth shut about needing to go that night.

He grinned, his eyes filled with an abundance of love. “I’m verra lucky. Do you know why?”

“Why?” she asked suspiciously.

His smile widened. “Because I have a beautiful, intelligent Druid who stole my heart. We do this. Tonight.”

She started to argue, but he slipped out of her grip and walked to the closet to change. Within moments, he was back. He paused beside the bedside table and put on the silver cuff bracelet given to him by a Dark Fae imbued with their magic which allowed him to teleport.

It was a running joke among the Dragon Kings that the only two non-Fae at Dreagan who had that ability were mated. She never parted with her finger rings, but Ulrik was known to lend his bracelet to Kings who had need of it.

His shoulders lifted on a breath as he faced her. His features were set in determined lines as he returned to her side with a coat for her. Once she had it on, he held out his hand, waiting for her. Eilish eyed it as she considered refusing to go, but she knew that look in her mate’s eyes. Ulrik was going with or without her. There’s nothing on this Earth or any other realm that would prevent her from being with him in case he might need her. She slipped her hand in his.

“Prepare yourself,” he said as his fingers closed over hers.

In the next instant, they stood within a dark cave. The cold was the first thing that she acknowledged. The wind whistled against the cold stones, but her gaze was locked on Ulrik. His breathing was shallow, his hold on her hand tight.

“It’s just a cave. It’s just a place you spent some time,” she told him. “It has no hold over you.”

He squeezed his eyes shut as a shudder went through his body. “Being here brings it all back in horrifying detail.”

“Let’s go home. We’ll do this another time.”

“Nay,” he stated firmly. “I need a minute, is all.”

She kept her eyes on him, ready to return to Dreagan on a moment’s notice. But, as she watched, the tension began to ease from his body little by little. Eventually, he lifted his head and opened his eyes. He whispered something and his magic created light to fill the area.

“It’s just a place,” he murmured, repeating her words. “It’s just a cave.”

Her eyes burned with tears of pride. She couldn’t imagine the onslaught of emotions he experienced, but he stood his ground, once more proving why the magic of this world had chosen him as King of Silvers. His gaze began to move over the walls. He didn’t push away the emotions, but greeted each one, accepting it. Revulsion, alarm, panic. He flinched a couple of times, but gradually, it became easier for him to look at everything. Only then did she chance a look herself.

Her heart missed a beat when her eyes locked on the wall nearest her, because it was exactly as she had seen it in her dreams. Scribbles and marks that looked as if they might have been creating something before another image was drawn over it. A part of her wanted to try to discern each layer, but Ulrik tugged her after him as he ventured deeper into the cave.

That’s when the drawings became clearer, more concise. They were remarkably done. The skill alone was mindboggling. Most of what Ulrik carved were dragons. Different sizes and in different situations from flying to sleeping to battling. Some were as small as her hand and others taking up most of the wall. Among the dragons were carvings of deer and an eagle or two.

As beautiful as these were to behold, she didn’t know why she’d dreamed of this place. Perhaps there was nothing there for her. Maybe the dreams had been to remind Ulrik that he should come so he could heal fully.

Ulrik released her hand when he squatted down to peer at a carving near the ground. She walked around him to continue her perusal. All thought vanished like smoke when she found herself staring at…herself.

Her heart skipped a beat. She’d never felt so discombobulated before. Simultaneously like a rug had been snatched from beneath her as well as if a piece of a puzzle had snapped into place. Eilish reached out a shaking hand and touched the markings of a face that was so exact it was like looking in a mirror. “How is this possible?”

“I have no idea,” Ulrik said from beside her. “I drew everything, but I doona remember this.”

Eilish turned and looked at the opposite wall. There, among more dragons, was her face, again and again. Some smiling, some serious. Some in profile, some facing forward. But there was no doubt it was her.

This was what she was supposed to see. “What does this mean? Did you see someone who looked like me?”

“Nay. I hated humans. I didna go near them. And they never ventured here.”

She swung her head to him. “Does that mean…”

He met her gaze, shock reflected in his gold depts. “I saw you. Thousands of years before we were to meet, I knew your face. Every beautiful contour. I captured her courage, your beauty, and your power as precisely as you are.”

There was no refuting what she saw, but she could hardly wrap her head around it. She swallowed and looked at one of the carvings. There was only one explanation for this: they had been destined for each other all along.

“I need to see something,” Ulrik said.

She didn’t have time to respond before he teleported them again. The light was gone, leaving her bathed in inky darkness. Ulrik began to pull her after him. She went two steps before tripping.

“Wait,” she bade.

He might be fine striding in the blackness, but she wasn’t. Eilish called to her magic and readied a chant to create fire, but Ulrik beat her to it. Another small ball of light rose above them.

“Sorry,” he said with twisted lips. “I’m just in a hurry.”

“Where are we?”

“My ancestral home in the Andes Mountains.”

Another place he hadn’t been back to since the war with the humans. There was excitement in his eyes as he studied her, waiting for her approval. She nodded. “Lead the way.”

They set off with the light keeping pace with them overhead. The tunnel was large enough that she suspected Ulrik had traversed it in his true form. They didn’t walk long. He drew her into a tunnel that branched off to the right which led to a sizable cavern.

The light rose, setting the entire space aglow and showing that it was filled with carvings. More of Ulrik’s work. She grinned when she spied dragons. There also jaguars, llamas, and a condor or two.

“This way,” Ulrik said.

She forced her gaze away from the walls and followed him as he searched for something. She hungrily ate up every little nugget that she saw of his past as questions filled her mind. She had to bite her lip to keep them to herself until later.

Suddenly, he stopped and pointed to a place on the wall where she saw her face again.

“After the mortals arrived on the realm and we shifted for the first time, I came here and drew for hours,” he told her, his gaze locked on her drawing. “Half the time I didna know what I carved into the stone. It was here,” he said and tapped his head, “and I needed to get it out.” He looked at her. “You were with me even then.”

Eilish looked back at her face carved in the stone, the eyes locked with hers. “Then we were destined.”

“Aye, love,” he said as he wrapped an arm around her. “It took eons to find you, though.”

“Pretty sure I found you.”

“Nay, lass. I did the finding.”

They shared a laugh as she slid her eyes to him. It was amazing—startling—to know that Fate or destiny or whatever was at work had known all along of their love. It proved that each person had to navigate tricky terrain before they could find their person, the one that was the other half of them. But once they were found, everything made sense.

Ulrik’s fingers caressed her face. “If you hadna dreamed of the cave, I would’ve never returned, and I would’ve never known that you’ve always been with me. Even in my darkest days.”

“That means you were always with me, too.”

He grinned. “We have proof. I wonder if any of the other Kings do?”

“I’d like to keep this our secret. This is ours.” She glanced at the carvings. “I’m not sure it was meant to be shared with others.”

“Anything you want. It was your love that helped save me.”

She grinned and slid her arms around his neck. “You were already on that road. You just didn’t know it. I only gave you a little push.”

“I knew from the first that you were my mate. This confirms it. If you had any doubts.”

“I never any doubts about you, our love, or our future. Now, shut up and kiss me.”

He chuckled. “Bossy, wench. I like it.”

“I know,” she whispered right before his lips claimed hers.

About the Author

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Donna Grant® has been praised for her “totally addictive” and “unique and sensual” stories. She’s written more than one hundred novels spanning multiple genres of romance including the bestselling Dragon King® series that features a thrilling combination of Dragon Kings, Druids, Fae, and immortal Highlanders who are dark, dangerous, and irresistible. She lives in Texas with her dog and a cat.

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CONFESSIONS

ECHO GRAYCE

Jackson and Savannah are a beloved couple from my prequel novella, Penalty Box. If you’d like to read their story that takes place before this addition to their journey, I’m offering it to you free here: https://BookHip.com/RBTVZAL (no sign-up required).

JACKSON

I GLANCE at my phone and wince.

I should have been at Savannah’s by now.

Dammit, I should have been in Savannah by now.

Instead, I’ve got a front row seat to Rockabilly’s invoices and an empty glass of whiskey.

I don’t dare pour another.

I don’t dare not pour another.

Fuck.

I scrub my hands over my face only to have my elbows droop under the weight of my secret. Before I know it, I’m propped on my desk, my face in my palms shrouding the bitter lines I feel bracketing my mouth despite the power of 80 proof.

Every bit of me feels as old as the bones of this rink that’s been in my family for over fifty years. Hidden behind one of a dozen facelifts the place had gotten over the years, they’re solid and reliable.

Me? Not so much.

Aged with a sea-worn patina as familiar on the coast of Maine as lobster rolls and homemade blueberry ice cream when my grandfather bought it, this place, this destiny I resented for so long, it whispers memories to me.

Generations of families spilling through the doors for birthdays, family reunions, family nights, first dates—I hear it now that I’m not that defiant shithead I was as a teen.

Echoes of life haunt this place. Of laughter from the kids who finally ditched their walkers and braved taking off on their first set of wheels.

And dared to fall.

The whispers of a lust-filled breath slipping from lips right before first kisses. And the sobs of heartbreak when first loves broke up.

They’re here with me. Even tonight. So much more alive than I am despite sitting here in the flesh, heart chugging along in my aching chest.

Frozen.

I’m so fucking frozen in this moment, trapped under the weight of what I’ve done.

I let this go for too long. My confession settled inside me, anchoring itself deep where it poisons me slowly from the inside out.

Infecting what I’d begun building with Savannah.

And I let it happen.

She’s all I’ve wanted since I was that sullen asshole, high all the time, pissed off, and hell-bent on getting out of this town, or die trying.

Now that I have her, I finally fucking have her, and I’m letting a future with her sift through my fingers.

My phone pings and a message pops up from my dad.

Just checking on you, son. Seen the lights on late at Rockabilly’s every night for the past couple weeks. Give us a call.

Christ, even my father noticed I’m off. And cares.

My eyes lock on the word “son” before it disappears, and a rush of warmth snakes through me.

Maybe I’m not dead inside just yet.

But I’m working on it. Without even trying, I’m working on it… and succeeding.

The back door rattles and I lean back in my chair.

Somehow, I know who it is.

I always know when she’s near.

The door flies open and Savannah shoves through, all temper and indignation blooming crimson on her cheeks.

“Breaking and entering now?” I force a hint of banter into my words. Something that usually comes naturally to me. At least, most days. “Did I save you from a drug charge just so you could regress into mediocre petty crime?”

A flash of attitude streaks through those dark, fiery eyes and I swear the challenge there spikes my cold blood, sending it flooding through my veins.

She does that. She’s always done that.

Woken me up… even when I’m almost dead.

“The only one backsliding here is you.” She holds up a hand and gives me a smirk.

“And I have a key.”

I narrow my eyes on the familiar flash of brass in her hands. “Where the hell did you get that?”

“Your father.”

Her eyes twinkle. That’s the only way to explain it. With smug mischief. My hand itches with an urge to spank her.

Hard.

Repeatedly.

A united front between the two most stubborn people in my heart. I sink under the weight of that too, knowing I don’t stand a chance. “Traitor.” The muttered word sounds suspiciously like the douchebag I thought I left in the past.

One more ghost.

“He loves you.”

I’ve got nothing for that. He does. In his own fucked-up, carrying-baggage-from-the generation-before way.

Not that I can judge him for baggage. I’m building up one hell of a load for myself considering I’ve never married and have no kids of my own. Still, the burden I carry threatens to bury me under its stifling weight.

Shoulders back, her hair slipping from the mass of dark waves gathered at the nape of her neck, Savannah heads right for me and doesn’t stop until she wedges herself between my lap and the desk.

Her gaze travels over the paperwork, the empty glass, and she crosses her arms. Those perfectly arched eyebrows rise with pure, raw, fed-up-with-your-bullshit attitude.

I reach out and catch the soft, flowing fabric of her skirt and rub it between my thumb and index finger before letting it go. “What is that you’re wearing?”

She smirks. “A dress.”

“Nah. I’ve seen dresses.” I scrape my hand over my chin. “That’s not a dress, that’s a fucking invitation.” A series of buttons running from between her round, soft breasts to just above her knees seduces me. The way the fabric bunches slightly, the straining just enough to resurrect a not-so-distant memory of the soft, round, dusky-tipped perfection she hides under it.

They lure me in until my fingers almost meet the fabric once again, this time with every intention of peeling it off her one button at a time.

I want to curl against the warm valley between them and let the rhythm of her heart lull me, anchor me from dark memories reaching from the depths, their tentacles weaving around my present and stealing me away from this.

From her.

But they have a hold on me—the memories are here between us—but this time, they’re gripping my throat, squeezing until I confess.

The splash of his body hitting the water, the way he slipped under and never resurfaced—vivid and full of sound, they lash at me.

To punish me.

The goddamned soundtrack of my tattered soul dying again and again.

But at least it’s not happening to her. I saved her that. Because I know the fire in her heart, the fierceness of motherhood strengthening her resolve. Driven to protect her little girl, she would have put her ex in the ground.

Taking care of Skye would distract her. She’d go a hundred miles an hour until Skye slept peacefully in her bed at night and that’s when they’d strike.

Memories haunting her in the quiet moments. The collide of necessity and conscience encapsulating her one layer at a time, driving a wedge between her and the child she sacrificed so much to protect.

No, the torture and self-loathing is better left to me.

The replay tempers my instinct to claim her until my fingers are curling into my palms and my knuckles turn white.

“You look like the ocean.” The words tear from my throat in a jagged whisper. Full of hunger. “Like a fucking sea goddess storming right out of the turbulent waves to take what’s yours.”

The white frothy color stretching over her breasts bleeds into a warm gray before plunging into a deep, rich blue. I don’t know what she hears in my words. With my torment swallowing me almost whole, nothing is clear.

Except… that I don’t deserve her.

Her reaction says more than any words from her velvety lips can—the way her arms fall to her sides, her face softens, and her eyes shift from anger to worry.

I’m hurting her.

And every time I do, the ache has a direct line to her little girl.

The thought steals the air from my lungs and a rough sob breaks free before I can catch my breath. “If I hold this in anymore…” My voice is raw. The words want out and they won’t hesitate to skin me from the inside out on the way if that’s what it takes.

My soul screams at me to free them. My chest aches as though my ribs are the only thing containing my sins. And they’re cracking, splintering, sending jagged shards of pain through me.

“It’ll destroy me.”

They’re stealing everything.

Every smile, every laugh, every goddamned dream so close now, but still so far away.

The very soundtrack of my own life will one day echo within these walls.

“Tell me,” she murmurs with a quiet demand lacing her voice. She slides her warm hands along my cheeks and threads them through my hair. I sway toward her, desperate to lean into her heat.

It’s so fucking cold where I am now.

She tilts my head back, exposing me, giving me no escape from those haunting dark eyes I’ve coveted and cursed over the years. A hot tear blazes a damp trail down her skin.

This is us now. These aren’t tears for our mistakes, for the time lost, for the pain we suffered at the hands of others.

This is pain I’m inflicting. The damage I’m causing every time I put distance between us. Whenever I let shame keep me silent. I’ve told myself a thousand times carrying the burden would protect her from pain, guilt—from feeling complicity.

But I’m not saving her if I’m burdening her with twice as much.

I blink and my eyes burn. “You know what I did.”

Her lips part on an intake of breath and her tongue darts out, sweeping along her bottom lip. “You saved us.”

There was no glory in her words. No fist shot in the air on a burst of triumph.

Just acceptance.

Heartbreak.

And so many apologies she never has to utter because I made this choice.

I’d make it again.

I force my fists open, reach for her, and bury my face against her stomach. Locking my fingers around the soft flesh of her hips, I hold on to the only solid thing in my world, while I take the first step in blowing myself apart.

“There was this sense of twisted fate that night. I was getting ready to head out on the water, what I had been planning—what I told myself I was ready to do—just a mere thought when he stopped and introduced himself. I thought I’d have to work at getting him on the boat. You know, finesse him a little.”

Her fingers curl around the nape of my neck, the tips soothing the miserable tension there as the memory sucks me back.

“But no, he started talking about his wife and daughter.” My gut twists with jealousy. I hate how he referred to Savannah as his wife when they were divorced. I hate even more that he’d ever had the right to call them his at all.

Maybe most of all, I hate myself for giving her a reason to run from me all those years ago, leaving her vulnerable to monsters like him.

Savannah’s thumb caresses the locked muscles running along the side of my neck and I focus on the relief there.

“The fucking audacity of that. I didn’t think he could surprise me, not after everything you told me about him, about what he did to Skye, but fuck, his gall was just staggering.”

I’d never been a big talker. Sure, I could hold my own in a conversation, crack jokes, but I’d never been one to command the attention. In this moment though, the spotlight shone right on me and the more the words came, the more I wanted to spill them all to her. Purge every fucking memory of that night.

The night I made sure Colton could never come back.

Every sweep of her thumb along my skin bewitches me, drawing out another word—and another—until the finality of confession unravels and becomes absolution.

“He made it easy to get him out on the water. I should have known. Nothing’s that simple. I was too confident and he’d been calculating the whole time.”

She drags her nails through my hair and over my scalp. With each stroke, the cold recedes, leaving a safe cocoon between us.

Lost in the memory, the coppery tang of blood fills my mouth all over again. The throb in my skull from Colton’s cheap shot that night pulses with new life.

“After he hit me, when I came to, I knew then, even if I wanted to change my mind, I couldn’t. He knew about us and if he made it back to shore… I—he… the things he said he’d do to you, to Skye—” A shudder quakes through me.

The way Colton said the words, gained pleasure from the way they rolled off his tongue, he brought the horror to life. The thought of Savannah and Skye suffering even one second of his sinister plan—no. Never.

The promise in Colton’s tone stole my free will.

There were no choices then.

I never intended to tell her what Colton had in store for them, but I need her to understand. Taking his life, even Colton’s piece of shit life, it’s not who I am.

She dances her thumb over my lips and my eyelids drift closed. She seduces me with slow, methodical touches, easing the agony and leaving longing in its wake.

I want to drown in the solace there, but I can’t let her distract me. She has to hear it all and I fucking hate that I’m going to put this image in her head. Loathe the idea that I may see this confession flicker in her eyes for the rest of our lives.

“He had a plan. How he would keep you and Skye in line. Mutilate you so you wouldn’t stray.”

Her fingers still.

I’ve inflicted the first crack.

“He’d do the same to Skye so she’d have a desire for—Jesus, tell me you understand because I can’t say it.”

The only sound between us is our agonized breathing and her muffled sob.

“If that wasn’t enough, he would hand out Skye to his business associates.”

Another crack.

Bile burns the back of my throat.

Another crack is fine so long as she’s not broken like me.

I slam my fists down on either side of Savannah, sending an instant throb of pain to my elbows. Blind hatred leaves me in a fog of rage with nowhere to put it.

“Jay,” she whispers, her fingers curling into my shoulders.

“The thought of what they would do to her—I couldn’t let him walk away, Savannah. I had to turn myself into him, to stop him. There was no other way.”

The sorrow rolling from her in waves shifts and before I know it, she cups my cheeks and forces me to look at her. “You are not him. Do you hear me! You are not him, Jay.”

Her delicate fingers slide down over my shoulders and dig into my flesh. “You put yourself between us and a monster. He wasn’t some asshole you saw abusing his wife at the bar after a few too many. He told you what he would do to us.” Her chin wobbles and fresh tears well in her eyes. “I know better than anyone that he would have done all of everything he promised and then some. The taste of cruelty and pain only made him lust for more. More of our cries. Until our cries weren’t enough anymore. And then he’d take our screams.”

My shoulders lock tight, bracing for the fight my instinct to protect demands.

The fight that will never come.

Because I can’t kill him again, no matter how much in this moment I want to.

SAVANNAH

HOLDING JACKSON, I stare down at the storm he’s become in my arms. I gulp back the lump in my throat and pray I’m not about to make the worst mistake of my life.

He’s carrying so much for me, for us—and I’m going to make him carry more with words I’ve never said out loud.

“He raped me.” My confession is so quiet on trembling words, but thunder louder than this place when it’s packed wall to wall.

Jackson’s venomous growl thunders through the office, leaving us both shaking. I never planned to tell him; I didn’t want him to hesitate to touch me. I couldn’t bear it. I didn’t want that part of my past alive in my present.

But guilt is eating him alive and I don’t know any other way to reach him other than to trust him with my secret too.

“Just once, but it was enough. It was violent, cruel, and he drew it out as long as he possibly could.”

Tension spirals off him, every huff of breath telling me how hard he’s battling for control. “I was rough with you. That night at my cabin, the way I—”

“Stop it!” I tilt his face up and brush my lips over his, needing to taste him, to hold him, to try to get through to him that I’m not letting us go. Not ever.

“I am not a victim. Do you hear me? And I don’t for a minute want you to stop touching me the way you do. He doesn’t get to steal that too.”

“Savannah…”

I drop to my knees between his legs and meet his anguished eyes. “No. I mean it, Jay. I won’t have him between us. Especially not in that way. That’s ours. Only ours.”

“There’s only one way to stop a man like him. One, Jackson. The only regret I have is that it was you who did it, and it’s eating you alive.” I wish he could see what I’m seeing right now. Behind the anger and sorrow. He’s showing me his whole heart.

And it’s always been mine.

How fucking lucky was I that it waited for me. All these years, miles, and experiences dividing us, and he’s still here.

Still mine.

He was a fuckup as a kid. Resentful and rebellious, he pushed every button his family had, a hundred times over. He flouted the rules and the law—because he was in pain. No one asked him about his dreams; instead, they heaped a mountain of expectation on him.

But look where he sits today. In the very business he resented then.

And he loves it. He’s damn good at it. He loves people, kids, and his family’s legacy, even if he won’t admit it.

“You’re the best man I know,” I say quietly. “When you touch me, the way you touch me, it only makes me want more. It makes me want your mornings, your nights, and the all of the minutes in between. It makes me want forever.”

His red-rimmed, anguished eyes are locked on me. Everything I’m hungry for reflecting there.

“And your baby growing inside me. Fight your way back, Jackson. Back to me. Back to Skye… so we can have everything.”

Desire flashes in his eyes and a second later he’s on his feet, his commanding mouth taking everything, my confession obliterated by his wordless response to my dreams—for the both of us.

His lips devour me and his tongue seduces while stealing my very breath from my lungs.

I want to ride this wave. Instinct and desperation drive me to cling to the familiarity and escape the unknown. It would be so easy to sit back, let him tease me with every release of a button, until I’m bare to him and his powerful mouth settles between my thighs and drives me out of my mind.

But we’re not done. We haven’t finished exorcising our pasts and until we are, we don’t have a future.

I wrench myself free, the two of us facing off, our chests heaving with every drag of air into our lungs.

“She used to hear them. The echo of our mutual screams. They haunted her as she fell asleep.”

His cheek jumps as he grinds his teeth, and his thick eyebrows snap over his haunted glowering eyes. Snatching me to him hard, he presses his forehead to mine and shakes his head, wordlessly begging me to stop.

But I can’t. He needs to know all the ways his sacrifice gave us our lives back. Forever.

“They reached right out of her memories every time I turned out the lights. They waited for her to be alone, vulnerable, waited for the moment she felt small, and tormented her just as much as he did.”

He stiffens as his lips graze over the corner of my mouth. Long, powerful fingers tangle in my hair, locking in the strands with a quick tug.

“I spent years surviving his game, waiting for a chance to get out. I can’t erase those memories. But I can give her happy ones. One day she’ll know more happiness than fear. It’s already started… with you.”

Jackson looms over me, all broad shoulders and impressive height, and despite those qualities, I never feel small.

The instinct to cower—it never comes.

His thumb glides over my cheekbone and his palm settles in to cup my cheek. “He’ll always be the man who hurt you, hurt Skye—but I’ll always be the man who intentionally ended a life. I’m trying to reconcile that. I am… I just—” His gaze slides away and his throat works frantically, swallowing everything he wants to say—needs to say.

“Trust me, Jay. Tell me.” I wrap my arms around his neck, giving him no escape. Pressing my lips to the flutter of his heartbeat under his salty skin, I drag in a lungful of his long-faded musky cologne. “Please.”

Something inside snaps on the whispered plea and he sags against me. Curls into me.

“I want to be Skye’s father, but how can I ask that?” His raw voice dances along the shell of my ear, full of longing. “After what I did? Knowing who I am?”

I cup his chin and turn his face to mine. “You’re the perfect man to teach Skye about good men. Being protected, cherished, and loved, her foundation will start with you.”

He tips my chin up, his thumb smoothing along my bottom lip. “It started with you, Savannah.”

Eyes locked on mine, he studies me. Just when I start to wonder if there’s anything I can say, anything I can do, the hold the past has on him slips. His shoulders relax, the grim lines bracketing his mouth soften, and those lines of worry on his forehead ease.

“I’m just the lucky son of a bitch you trust to make it stronger.” He dances his lips over my neck, sending lust rioting through me. “You’re sure?” he mumbles against my skin.

“This is the one thing in my life I’ve never doubted for a second. I’m just waiting for you to catch up.”

He grumbles out the first hint of a laugh and it sends adrenaline streaking through my blood as I let go of the overwhelming fear that I might just lose him for good this time.

He’s mine.

He’s always been mine.

And if I need to be that goddess storming from the sea to lash out at every one of the demons threatening to steal him away, well, bring it, because I’ve seen worse.

So much worse.

I let my head fall back and memorize every warm bite he sinks into my flesh. With every stroke of his tongue he uses to soothe the sting, my skin grows hot and impossibly tight.

“Drive me to your place?” he whispers over the skin just below my ear, making my eyes roll back and the hair stand up on my neck.

“I have a better idea.” Bracing my palms, I slide onto his desk, the stacks of papers shifting before fluttering to the floor. Hooking my fingers through the belt loops of his jeans, I pull him between my thighs and nip at the stubble under his jaw. “This is your safe place. Who you were then, who you are now, and who you’re destined to become, it lives and breathes here. We should too.”

His hands begin their trek along my thighs. Bunching the skirt around my waist, he stares down at me, his mouth parting and his tongue darting out to swipe his bottom lip.

“The sea goddess turns into a sea seductress,” he whispers as he grazes his knuckles along my wet pussy. A rough groan rumbles from his chest. “I told you this dress was a damned invitation.”

I yank the snap on his jeans, making his hips jerk. Gliding my hand over his, I show him what I want when I settle his palm over my wet heat. He doesn’t hesitate. Looking straight into my eyes, he sends one perfect finger deep, curling it just right.

He’s known my body from the first moment. Tender and turbulent, he wrings me out. My body lights up and my eyes threaten to roll right back in my head. His other hand glides under my skirt, smoothing over my hip, before skimming up my spine. Splaying his hand over my upper back, he draws me in until our breath mingles between us, my pants fanning over his lips.

“Only for you, Jay. Every single time, only for you.”

If you’ve already read Jackson and Savannah’s story head to book one in the series where Maisy and Cain are ready to rip your heart to shreds…don’t worry, I’ll put it all back together before it’s done.

About the Author

Echo Grayce mercilessly jabs her Pilot V5 gel pen straight into the heart of her readers. Whether she’s delivering steamy small-town, sexy heart-hammering romantic suspense or taking you for a walk on the hot and flirty side with the single-in-the-city relatives of your small-town favorites, every one of her books holds a dose of angst, a double shot of romance, followed by a scorchin’ hot sexy times chaser that will leave you panting for more.

Born and raised in New England, she’s got Ben & Jerry’s pumping through her heart and real Vermont maple syrup dripping through her veins. She has an insatiable addiction to Fall Out Boy and a new, rather concerning obsession with tattoos and piercings.

If you’re searching for her, she’s usually found sitting at her command terminal, planning to take over the world. When she takes back the pen she’s stabbed into her readers’ hearts, she creates beautifully brutal romance between fierce women and the men who topple off their alpha thrones for them. She adores every last one of you who picks up one of her stories and makes her dreams come true.

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FOR THIS MOMENT

EILEEN AITKIN

CHAPTER ONE

THE PASTA WAS OVERCOOKED, the sauce far too salty, and the garlic bread a shade too dark. But as far as Kat Carlson was concerned, it was the best meal she’d ever had. She helped herself to another piece of garlic bread, choosing one that wasn’t quite as crispy as the others.

“Sorry about dinner,” Andy said as she dipped the bread in the salty marinara. “I’m really not much of a cook.” He shrugged. “Maybe I should have ordered something, but it didn’t seem right to treat you to takeout when you came all this way.”

“It’s perfect,” Kat said with a full mouthful before reaching for the glass of wine she’d hardly touched since they’d sat down. “Honestly, Andy. It’s been such a crazy week of going nonstop, I’ve hardly even had a chance to sit down and eat a meal. Let alone a home-cooked one.”

She’d been in Vancouver for four days at an advanced hair styling workshop she’d managed to wangle an invitation to. The entire workshop was totally out of her comfort zone, but that’s exactly why she’d wanted to attend. The only way to get better at her craft was to push herself. And she’d done just that. Kat was completely exhausted. But not too exhausted to accept the invitation for dinner from her childhood crush.

“I’m just so happy to see you, Andy, and—”

She bit the inside of her cheek and silently cursed herself for being so eager. Truthfully, she was surprised it had taken her so long to say something stupid.

Sure, she might no longer be the awkward, flat-chested seventeen-year-old with braces, acne, and an unfortunately short haircut that made her orange curls frizz up around her head like a combination between an overgrown Orphan Annie and a clown straight from the circus. But even now that she was twenty-three, with straight teeth, clear skin, and a generous C-cup, she was no less awkward. At least not when it came to Andy Fisher.

“I’m happy to see you, too, Kitty Kat.” Andy flashed his signature smile.

The same one she used to pray he’d flash in her direction whenever he’d come over to her house to hang out with Craig, her older brother. And the nickname he’d given her…no one ever called her that. Only Andy. Kat could still remember with almost perfect accuracy the first time he’d said it. She’d been fifteen. It was the first time her brother had brought Andy home from school with him. He was new to their small town of Trickle Creek and had been assigned the locker next to Craig, the brother she was closest to growing up because they were only two years apart. All the other siblings, a mixture of step siblings and full siblings, were all quite a bit older than her, and to say they were a close family…well, it’s not that they weren’t close. But at any given time, there was a lot going on with the Carlson clan. It could be hard to keep up. Even for Kat.

“What’s your name?” Andy had asked when she’d walked into the kitchen to find an after-school snack. The boys were sitting at the table, a plate of leftover fried chicken between them.

She hadn’t been expecting to see anyone but Craig, let alone the most beautiful boy she’d ever seen in real life. His jet-black hair and sparkling blue eyes made him look like a movie star. And when he smiled…she was completely dumbstruck.

“Her name is Kat,” Craig answered for her when no sound came out of her open mouth. “Kat the brat. She’s my little sister. Ignore her.”

Kat’s face bloomed in embarrassed heat, but Andy only smiled in her direction. It was the first time she’d felt important. Seen.

And a moment later, when he said, “Hi, Kitty Kat. I’m Andy. It’s nice to meet you,” she fell head over heels in love.

Just like that.

“No one really calls me that anymore,” she said, in an attempt to remind him that she was no longer a kid. Maybe the curves in all the right places, the dress that she knew showed them off to their fullest potential, and the hair that she’d carefully styled in long, luscious waves over her shoulder wasn’t enough to get that particular point across. She might have to up her game. Not that she had any. Kat had always been completely hopeless when it came to men. She reached for the glass of wine again.

“Right.” He dragged out the word while he twirled his fork in his pasta. “But did anyone else ever call you that besides me?”

Ha. He caught her.

She ducked her head, but not in time to hide the small smile that crossed her face.

“I really am happy to see you, Kitty Kat,” Andy said again.

This time he spoke slowly, his voice deepening. Or maybe it was her wishful thinking. Could it be, that after all these years, and the distance between them, that Andy might finally think of her as something more than Craig’s little sister? It was probably too much to ask for that he might even think of her as a woman. Still, it wasn’t going to stop her. She had nothing if not hope. Not when it came to her love life.

It had recently come to her attention from her best friend, Annie, that the entire reason Kat was still single was because on some level she was still comparing every man who crossed her path to Andy. At first, Kat had blown it off, but then when she really let herself think about it, she’d realized Annie was right. And there was only one way to move past it: she needed to get Andy out of her system one way or another. Which was exactly what she was going to do.

Kat let the wine swirl around her mouth a moment longer than absolutely necessary before she looked him in the eyes and said, “I missed you.”

He sat back in his chair and his mouth fell open.

Shit. It was too much.

She never should have said that. She never did know how to be subtle. She really should have taken Annie up on her offer for flirting lessons.

“I meant, it just hasn’t been the same in Trickle Creek since you moved out to the coast.” She shrugged as casually as she could. “I know Craig misses you, too. He even mentioned how maybe he could convince you to move back and scoop ice cream in the Sugar Shack instead of finishing your degree.”

Craig hadn’t mentioned anything of the sort. In fact, her big brother was ridiculously proud of how smart his best friend was and how Andy was putting all those smarts to good use by getting his master’s degree in physical therapy. No doubt, if Andy even mentioned quitting in favor of working in Craig’s candy and ice cream shop, her brother would drag him back to Vancouver himself and tie him to his desk if necessary.

But if Andy knew any of that, he didn’t say so. Instead, he smiled slowly, his lips curling up in a way that made her stomach flip. “I sure do miss Trickle Creek,” he said. “And everyone there.”

He reached across the table and took her hand in his, surprising Kat. She caught herself before jerking away from the touch.

Her mind raced. He was holding her hand. Her hand. He was looking into her eyes and holding her hand.

What. Was. Happening?

Certainly, she was dreaming. She had to be dreaming. But if she were, Kat had absolutely no interest in waking up anytime soon.

“How’s the family?”

The last thing Kat wanted to talk about was her family. It’s not that she didn’t love all her siblings. She did. Mostly. But there was always drama with her oldest step siblings. Especially when it came to her father. Even recently, when the patriarch of what was the wealthiest, most influential family in town, had fallen ill earlier this year, things between her oldest brothers and sisters still hadn’t calmed down. It was all quite exhausting.

“I don’t really want to talk about it right now,” she said with a small shake of her head.

Andy nodded and moved on. “I’m really glad that Craig told me you were coming to Vancouver,” Andy said, her hand still wrapped in his. “I think the last time I saw you was—”

“Two years ago,” she blurted. “At the Sugar Shack grand opening.”

His eyes twinkled, looking bluer than they already did, which was some sort of miracle of nature. “You’re right. I had a break in semesters that worked out. I wouldn’t have wanted to miss that. I’m so proud of what Craig has done.”

Kat really didn’t want to talk about her brother. Not now. Not when Andy was holding her hand, and now…now his thumb had started to stroke small circles on her skin. She swallowed hard and willed herself to stay calm. It was a herculean task. She’d dreamed about him touching her. Fantasized about the way his lips would feel on hers. And gone over and over in her mind in vivid detail exactly what it would feel like to finally have him take her to bed.

Damn. Annie was right. No man stood a chance until she worked Andy out of her system. And considering there was no way a relationship between them would ever happen in a million years, there was only one way to do that.

THERE WERE a million reasons why Andy shouldn’t be doing what he was doing. What he should be doing was yanking his hand away from Kat’s smooth, silky skin, tucking it into a pocket or running it through his hair or doing pretty much anything with it besides touching her in any way. More importantly, what he wanted to be doing—which was running his hands down her body so he could explore all of those brand-new curves properly before pulling her in for the kiss he’d been wanting to take since he’d seen her two years ago at Craig’s store opening—could never happen.

It was only when he’d walked into the Sugar Shack for the first time that there, beside the display case full of fresh fudge, he’d laid eyes on Kitty Kat, all grown up—her red silky hair cascading over her shoulders when she tipped her head back, laughing the throaty laugh that made every single thing in Andy’s body come alive.

And that’s when he knew with a hundred percent certainty that the feelings of warmth and affection he’d always had for his buddy’s little sister—the one he could never make sense of since they’d been kids and he’d helped her with her science project and defended her from Danny Paulson, who’d snapped her bra and pulled her hair one too many times—had been more than just brotherly protection. A lot more.

But just because he had those feelings didn’t mean he should act on them. Hell, it probably meant the exact opposite.

No. He knew it meant the exact opposite.

But this woman had curves that would not stop, and the dress hugged each and every one of them, leaving just enough to his imagination that, from the moment she’d set foot in his apartment, he could not stop picturing what it would be like to run his hands down her body and pull her in close until she was pressed up against him.

Damn.

He needed to stop thinking about Kat that way. She was his best friend’s little sister. Which meant, in no uncertain terms, Kitty Kat was off-limits. Always had been. Always would be.

Not a problem while she was safely in Trickle Creek, building her stylist business, and he was hours away in Vancouver, going to school. The distance might not make him forget about her, but it sure as hell helped when it came to behaving. But now…she was here. In his apartment, looking at him with those heavily lidded eyes, licking her lips to make them moist and so very kissable, and—

No.

He never should have invited her to his apartment. When Andy heard that Kat was in the city taking a course, there was no way he could let the opportunity pass to see her. In hindsight, he should have taken her to a restaurant. Somewhere they could have a drink, an easy, delicious meal, and not be tempted to scoop her up in his arms and take her to bed.

“Andy?”

He blinked and pulled his hand away, unsure of how long he’d been lost in his thoughts and fantasies.

“Sorry, I didn’t—”

“I was just asking you how your classes were going and if you liked it here.”

He tried to cover by taking a deep sip of wine. “Classes are good,” he responded reflexively because, classes were good, if not a little mundane. “I’m ready to be done,” he added more truthfully. “It’s been a long haul. Only one semester, a practicum, and a few major exams left, and I’ll be a fully licensed physical therapist.”

“Oh.” She grinned. “Is that it? Seems easy enough.”

They both laughed and once again, Andy was brought into the moment with Kat.

“And you like it in Vancouver…” She held her glass of wine up, but didn’t take a sip. “Do you have a lot of friends? Someone to keep you company in between all your studying?”

“Someone? Like a—”

“Girlfriend,” she finished for him. “Are you seeing someone?”

He needed to tread carefully. Of course there was no girlfriend in his life. Even if he had time in his busy schedule to date someone, he hadn’t met anyone who was worth the effort. Not for a very long time. And the one woman he had found was completely off-limits, even if she was currently sitting in his one-bedroom apartment, looking very much like she would be worth every bit of the effort to strip her out of that tight dress and—

“No,” he said quickly. “I’m not.”

Her eyes widened with renewed interest. She set her wine glass down and looked him straight in the eye. “I think you probably know I’ve always had a crush on you, Andy.”

Holy. Shit.

Obviously, he wasn’t stupid. He’d known. Sure. But that was when they were kids and…

“I think when we were in school, I must have known, but you’re Craig’s little—”

“I don’t know if we need to talk about my brother right now.” She reached across the table and this time, she took his hand in hers.

Her long, slender fingers laced with his until he was completely unable to pull away. Not that he wanted to. Quite the opposite, really.

“No,” he agreed. “But I think it’s fair to tell you that when I saw you a few years ago at your brother’s store opening, I may have also developed my own crush on you.”

“A crush?” Her eyelids fluttered and her tongue slipped from her mouth, just enough to moisten her lips in a way that had Andy’s entire body responding.

“Oh yes.” He nodded slowly. “A crush that completely consumed me with thoughts of kissing you until you were begging me for more.”

It was not what he’d planned to say. Hell, it was the exact opposite of what he should have said. And it was only going to lead to the kind of trouble that he might not ever be able to come back from. What he really should have done was lied and told her how he always had and always would think of her as a little sister. But that really would have been a lie because the thoughts racing through his mind at that moment were decidedly not familial.

Kat’s breath caught in her throat, and her chest strained against her dress as she clearly struggled to keep her composure. “And now?” She’d asked the question on a throaty breath. Her hand tightened in his. “How’s that crush now?”

He could still stop this from happening. He could pull away, tell her he didn’t think of her that way anymore, and save them both from the moment.

“Kitty Kat, I think there’s only one way to answer that question.” Andy stepped up from the table, and with his hand still in hers, he pulled her up to follow suit until she stood in front of him. Before he could talk himself out of what he very much wanted to do, he ran one hand down the side of her curves until it rested on the delicious swell of her hip. It was only then that he released her hand to slide it through her silky red hair, cup the back of her head, and pull her into his lips for the kiss he’d been dreaming of every night as he’d fallen asleep for the last two years.

CHAPTER TWO

HE WAS KISSING HER. Andy Fisher was kissing Kat Carlson. And it wasn’t just in her fantasy. It was real. It was very, very real, judging by her body’s response.

Her entire body vibrated. If Andy hadn’t been holding her—oh, and was he ever holding her—she might very well levitate straight off the floor.

Sure, Kat had been kissed before. More than once. But never like this. Never before had there been so much…passion and electricity between her and a man. Yes, it was cheesy to think of it like that. As if Andy were some sort of hero in a romance novel who made her come alive after so many years of lying in wait. But there was no other way to think of it, because that’s exactly what was happening.

A low moan filled the air around them.

Was that her?

Oh, God. That was her. She might have been mortified if Andy hadn’t responded with a groan of his own as he tugged her even closer to him, as if he couldn’t get enough.

Good.

Because she couldn’t get enough, either. She wanted more. She wanted everything.

Kat had always known that a kiss with Andy would never be enough.

She could feel him hard and thick with need, pressing against her belly as he sucked gently on her bottom lip before he pulled back from their kiss.

“Why don’t we take this into your bedroom?” She hoped she didn’t sound too eager, but there was really no other way of telling Andy what she wanted from him in no uncertain terms. And she did know what she wanted. What she’d always wanted.

His eyes shut momentarily, and when they opened again, they were clouded. He took a step back from her, and his hands slipped down to rest on her hips. “Kat, I…”

“It doesn’t have to be a thing, Andy,” she said quickly. “I mean…that kiss was—”

“Fucking amazing,” he finished for her, sending a surge of pleasure through her body.

She hadn’t misread the situation at all. Not that she thought she had. Not really. It was true that Kat didn’t have a ton of experience with men, but she knew enough. And judging by the way Andy looked at her, and the heat in that kiss, her feelings were right on track.

“It really was amazing,” she said softly and took a step to close the distance between them. “But you know what else would be amazing?”

Kat couldn’t even believe the words that were coming out of her mouth. Maybe it was the few sips of wine she’d had that had loosened her tongue. Not that it mattered. Not when she meant every word she said.

Andy didn’t immediately say no. He didn’t pull away or stop touching her, details that only fueled her resolve.

“Taking this into your bedroom would be pretty amazing.” She leaned in and fluttered her lips over the sensitive skin just below his ear. Andy’s scent overwhelmed her senses, and she sucked in a breath before catching herself. Hold it together, Kat.

“Kat…I…”

“You want this,” she murmured in his ear. “As much as I do.” As much as I always have, she stopped herself from adding.

His response came in the form of a groan. His body shuddered from her kisses. “Damn, Kitty Kat. I do want this, but—”

“No.” She pulled back and looked him in the eyes. “There is no but, Andy.”

“Ahh.” He released his grip on her and stepped away.

She felt the loss immediately. Hot tears sprang to her eyes, but she bit her bottom lip to keep them from spilling over. She would not cry. He’d never see her as the grown-up woman she was if she acted like a child. No.

Kat watched as Andy battled with himself. He turned his back to her and scrubbed a hand over his face before threading his fingers through his hair. Still, he didn’t turn around.

“Andy?”

He didn’t move.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” He spun back around and faced her. “It’s not okay,” he said, softer this time. “You’re…and your brother…”

“Never needs to know.”

Andy’s face twisted with confusion, and Kat rushed to make her point.

“There’s no reason Craig ever needs to know,” she continued. “After all, it’s not like we’re going to have a relationship or anything. That’s not what this is about. I mean, we don’t even live in the same city. Like I said, this doesn’t have to be anything more than…a friendly hookup.”

It almost killed her to say the words out loud, but she wasn’t stupid. Kat had always known that there would never be anything real between her and Andy. Even if he wasn’t her brother’s best friend, they lived eight hours apart. She’d already made peace with it.

“But you’re—”

“A grown-up.” She stepped forward, pressing her breasts out so they strained against the fabric of the dress she’d brought with her in the hopes that she saw Andy. With a boldness she didn’t know she possessed, Kat ran a finger down the front of his shirt. “I’m not a little girl anymore.” She kept her voice low and took a step closer. “I don’t believe in fairy-tale endings of happily-ever-afters. I believe in happy-for-right-nows, and I think we can make each other very, very happy.”

She stopped inches in front of him, bit her lower lip, and looked up through her lashes into his eyes.

Andy let out an animalistic half groan-half growl. And then everything was okay because his hands were gripping her face and his mouth was on hers, devouring her.

OH FUCK YES.

They could make each other very happy. Of that, there was absolutely no doubt in Andy’s mind. The chemistry between them was absolute fire. And she was right. It’s not as if there was ever going to be anything between them. Nothing more than one night, anyway. And if she was okay with that…

“You are so delicious,” he murmured against her lips. Was one night going to be enough? It was going to have to be. Even if things were different and they did live in the same city, and she wasn’t his best friend’s little sister, he wasn’t in a place with his life that he was looking for a relationship anyway. “Happy for right now?”

He needed to hear it again. He needed to be sure. After all, this was Kitty Kat. His Kitty Kat.

“Happy for right now,” she repeated as she slid her hand behind the back of his head and threaded her fingers there, tickling the base of his neck, a move that sent a thrill through him. “We’re not children anymore, Andy. We can be very happy for right now.”

That was all he needed to hear. With another growl, Andy again caught her mouth in his.

Fuck. She tasted good. So good. Sweet and spicy and like he needed another taste. A deeper one.

“This dress.” He got the words out through gritted teeth.

“You like it?”

“It has to go.”

Her eyes widened.

“Now.”

Andy didn’t wait for Kat to process what he wanted, or even to do anything about it. Instead, he spun her around, so her belly was against the kitchen counter. She put her hands out to steady herself, her ass pressed out toward him. He barely contained a moan at the sight of her presenting herself for him in such a way, and for a moment considered exactly how much he liked that particular position. But no, he needed to see her. He needed his mouth on those sweet lips.

He swallowed hard and tugged down the zipper on her back, revealing smooth, pale skin sprinkled with a smattering of the same delicate freckles that adorned her face. He’d always teased her about them but that’s only because whenever he did, she’d reward him with that smile. But now there was no teasing, because those freckles were the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

Until now.

With a tug, Andy pulled the tight dress down and off Kat’s shoulders. His fingers traced a pattern on the sweet sun spots before pulling her up against him so he could press his lips to the skin and kiss his way across the delicate marks he’d only ever admired from afar.

She squirmed under his touch, but he wrapped his arm around her waist and held her tight.

“You’re so beautiful, Kitty Kat.” With his free hand, he roamed around her body to the front of her thigh, where the hem of her dress landed. A small sigh escaped her lips, encouraging him, as he traveled up the sensitive skin there. He hesitated at the elastic of her panties, but only for a second before he ever so lightly fluttered his finger over the silky fabric.

Kat gasped and, at the same time, her knees buckled a little. Andy tightened his grip on her, pressed one last kiss on her shoulder, and spun her around once more so he could see the look on her face as he pleasured her.

And he was not disappointed.

“Damn, Kat. I had no…I never imagined…” Unable to finish his thought, he shook his head and reached for her. Once more, his mouth took hers into a deep kiss. He was beyond ravenous for her. He’d never let himself imagine what kissing her would be like. Not really. Because it could never happen. No matter what feelings he had for her, how strongly he was drawn to her, or how much his body responded from the smallest smile in his direction, he could never have her.

But now…

Maybe he still couldn’t have her in any real way. At least not in any way that would go beyond tonight in his apartment. What if it wasn’t enough?

It would have to be.

“Andy?”

He hadn’t realized he’d stopped kissing her or pulled back at all.

Kat’s eyes were wide with question, and she watched him warily. “Are you…if you don’t want to—”

He shook himself out of the thoughts that threatened to screw up what promised to be a very good thing. “What I want,” Andy reached for her, “is to make you scream.” Without hesitation, he scooped her up and set her on the kitchen counter.

She let out a squeal of surprise as he rucked up her dress and tugged her panties down. But the squeals very quickly turned to moans of pleasure the moment he buried his face between her legs.

CHAPTER THREE

HIS TONGUE WAS AMAZING.

No.

It was pure freaking magic.

Never in her life had Kat felt anything like what was currently going on between her legs with Andy’s attention.

Her entire body felt as if it were going to explode. She could barely control the trembling that had started in her toes and was taking over her entire body.

“Andy?” Kat’s voice came out as a strained whisper. She swallowed hard and tried again. “Andy, I—”

He lifted his head and looked up at her from between her legs with the sexiest grin on his face. “Yes?”

“Oh my God, don’t stop.”

He laughed and dove back down to resume his hard work.

She threaded her fingers through his hair to hold him there, but a moment later he did something with his tongue that made her cry out and throw her head back. She needed to use her hands to brace herself against the cool surface of the countertop.

“You like that, hmm?”

“Andy, don’t…ohhh.”

“Don’t what?” He raised his head again and gave her a wink.

“Don’t stop.”

“Your wish is my command, Kitty Kat.” He licked his lips, and if Kat hadn’t already been completely lost with need for the man, that’s all it would have taken. “I don’t plan on stopping for a very long time.”

But he did stop. Kat watched with disappointment as he got off his knees and stood in front of her.

“Kitty Kat…” Andy grinned and kissed her thoroughly. “Don’t worry,” he said when he pulled back. “I told you, I’m nowhere done with you yet.”

Before she could respond, Andy had scooped her up as if she weighed nothing. He pulled her close to his chest and kissed her tenderly. “But I think we’re way past time that I need you in my bed.”

A full-body spark raced through her. Yes. His bed was exactly where she wanted to be.

Kat reached out to cup his cheek and deepen the kiss, but he bit down on her lip ever so lightly and pulled back.

“Wait,” he said. “First, I need you naked.”

Her body thrilled at his words. She’d dreamed about Andy speaking to her in such a way. Taking her to bed and doing all the things that would make her body light up. But now it was actually happening.

It. Was. Actually. Happening.

She had to concentrate. She had to hold it together and be the mature, no-strings woman she needed to be to finally have Andy. Even if on the inside she was screaming and waving her arms around in the air like a teenager at a boy band concert.

“I’m not the only one who needs to be naked.” She worked hard to keep her voice low and controlled and hopefully full of sex appeal. His nostrils flared and his grip on her tightened as he moved through the apartment toward the small bedroom in the back, so she must have been successful.

“Strip,” he commanded a moment later when he set her on her feet. “As much as I’ve enjoyed that dress, I think we’re—”

His words died on his lips as Kat shimmied out of the fabric, pulling it all the way down to her feet before stepping out of it. Andy had already relieved her of her panties, and because the dress wasn’t the right style for a bra, she stood in front of him completely naked. Her long auburn hair fell over one shoulder, the ends tickling the top of her breast. Her nipples hardened under Andy’s gaze as he stood motionless in front of her.

“Damn, Kitty Kat. You are…”

She’d always loved when he called her that, but hearing the nickname with lust in his voice was without a doubt the sexiest thing she’d ever heard. It gave her more confidence as she stepped toward him and tugged at his shirt.

“Your turn. You’re still wearing far too many clothes.”

He let her pull his shirt off and over his head, but stopped her with a hand on hers when she reached for the buckle of his jeans.

Andy patiently waited while she worked the leather of his belt and then slowly undid the button and zipper of his jeans. She slipped her hands inside the denim, taking her time to travel down his smooth, hard muscles.

He groaned and shook his head, the only indication that she was driving him crazy.

“You’re going to need to hurry this up, Kitty Kat.”

She didn’t need to be asked twice. Kat shoved his jeans down so he could step out of them.

Kat only had a second to take in the magnificent sight of him before he was moving toward her again.

“There’s still something I need to take care of.” His hands fluttered over Kat’s sides until they finally rested on her hips. He walked her backward until her legs hit the bed and she fell back onto the comforter. “And I’m going to make you purr.”

She couldn’t help it. A giggle slipped from her lips.

“Oh, you think that’s funny?” Andy shook his head, but there was a grin on his lips.

A devilish grin that sent shockwaves through her body, directly to her core.

“I told you I was going to make you purr, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

Before she could react, Andy dove onto the bed and directly between her legs. She cried out when his tongue once more found her sweet spot and a moment later, the only thing she could focus on was the intense pressure building in her body that finally exploded in a kaleidoscope of color as her climax completely consumed her.

SHE WAS BEYOND DELICIOUS, and making her come apart and lose control so freely was the biggest turn-on he’d ever experienced. Everything about Kat was more. And he knew exactly why.

Kat.

He waited, giving her a moment to come back to herself before slowly pressing one more kiss to her core. She shuddered under his lips, and it took all the restraint he had to keep from tasting her one last time before he slowly moved up the bed until he was lying next to her.

Andy propped himself up with an elbow and gazed down at her. Kat’s rich auburn hair was spread out on the pillow beneath her head, properly tousled and sexy as hell. Her eyes were closed, but she was still breathing fast. His eyes traveled down her body to her full, round breasts that rose and fell with every breath.

Her eyelids fluttered open and her beautiful lips curled up into a small, satisfied smile when she caught him looking at her. “I don’t know about making me purr, but…damn.”

Andy traced a finger up her front, between her breasts. “Oh, you purred all right.”

She caught his hand in hers and held it tight. “Now I think it’s your turn to purr…” Her gaze flicked down to his now exceptionally hard erection.

He couldn’t think of anything he’d like more than having Kat make him purr. But despite the teasing tone in her voice, he could see the exhaustion on her face, the way her eyelids fluttered with the need for sleep, and the lazy way she rolled to her side to face him.

Never mind how she’d only very recently finished telling him how busy her week had been and how little sleep she’d had. As much as he’d love to take things further, he was a gentleman. And considering he was already breaking about a million Bro Codes, maybe he should just quit while he was ahead.

“You’re exhausted, Kitty Kat.” She didn’t object when he moved closer on the bed and gathered her up in his arms. Andy shifted her so she was sprawled over him, her head on his chest, her bare breasts pressed against him—a detail that was doing nothing for his increasingly painful erection—and her arm draped over him.

It was perfect. She was perfect.

“Rest,” Andy murmured as he stroked her hair and her breathing fell into the easy rhythm of sleep.

Happy for right now?

Fuck yes. Right now, like this, he was immeasurably happy. And tomorrow morning, when Kat was properly rested…well, it made him even happier simply to think about it.

CHAPTER FOUR

KAT WAS HAVING the best dream.

Only it wasn’t a dream. It was real.

When her eyelids fluttered open in the early morning sun, she confirmed it. Andy was sleeping next to her. His bare chest was turned toward her. His arm was lazily draped over her and resting lightly on her hip.

Holy shit.

Kat blinked hard. And then again.

Yes. It was definitely not a dream. This was real. What they’d done was real. His mouth on her pussy. The way he’d pulled so much pleasure from her—and so easily, too.

Her body shuddered just remembering how amazing he’d made her feel. But then…

She’d fallen asleep.

Kat’s hand flew up to her face, and she only barely stifled a groan. How could she have fallen asleep after what they’d done? How was it even possible that her body would shut down when—

She knew exactly how. She’d been exhausted after all the early mornings and late nights at the styling conference. She’d been going nonstop for days, and then the wine…she hadn’t had much. But then again, she hadn’t needed much. No wonder she’d fallen asleep.

She let her eyes drift over Andy’s body. His chest moved up and down as he continued to sleep peacefully, completely unaware that she was watching his every move. And memorizing them. The blissful memory of this moment would have to last her for years to come, because she’d meant it when she told Andy she didn’t believe in fairy tales. And she certainly didn’t believe in happy-ever-after. Not when it came to the two of them.

Kat wasn’t surprised that her instincts had been right when it came to how he’d felt about her, too. Her own crush on Andy had been building for years, but when she’d seen him at Craig’s grand opening, Kat hadn’t missed the way Andy had looked at her. Like he saw her for the very first time. She’d noticed the way his nostrils flared, just a little bit. And the way his pupils dilated when she’d tossed her hair.

She’d seen every bit of it.

Because she’d been watching.

As much as Kat would have liked to lay there and watch Andy sleep all morning, the growing pressure of her bladder had other ideas. She’d take a moment to freshen up and then she’d wake him up. After all, she wasn’t anywhere near finished with him. They’d agreed on happy for right now, and as far as Kat was concerned, there was a lot more happiness to be had for both of them.

With a grin on her face, she slipped from the bed and padded out to the living room where she’d left her purse.

It wasn’t until she was safely in the privacy of the bathroom that she pulled her phone from her purse.

Six missed calls and at least ten text messages. All from her best friend back home, Annie Darling.

She hesitated to tell her best friend what had happened, but only for a second before quickly typing in a text to Annie.

You’ll never believe where I am right now.

It only took seconds for Annie to reply.

Andy’s bed.

A laugh bubbled up from her throat, but Kat covered her mouth quickly. Annie knew her too well. As her best friend for pretty much her entire life, Annie had been subjected to far too many I’m so in love with Andy conversations and late-night text messages. She’d also been the one to encourage Kat to finally put her infatuation with Andy behind her. No matter what it took.

Which was a big part of why Kat had found the courage to…well…it was pretty much why she was there.

His bathroom, she corrected her friend. I just woke up. Next to him.

Kat could practically hear Annie squealing from miles away. Still, she didn’t want to give her the wrong idea.

We didn’t have sex. I fell asleep.

Seriously? Annie’s response came with a wide-eyed emoji.

Can’t talk. Kat typed quickly. I need to get back.

She put her phone down and rushed through a morning routine in Andy’s bathroom. She used a squeeze of toothpaste on her finger to freshen her mouth and splashed some water on her face. It was only when she was about to leave to return to Andy’s side that she picked up her phone again and saw Annie’s text.

Maybe you shouldn’t. Maybe it’s not a good idea, Kat.

Not a good idea? It was the best idea. Besides, she was already feeling lighter, like she could successfully move on from the childhood crush that had held her back for far too long. That was the whole point of this, after all. She didn’t believe in a happy ending, not with Andy. But that’s exactly why she needed to see this through.

THE CLICK of the bathroom door woke him up. Andy took a few minutes to blink the sleep from his eyes and come fully awake. He stretched his arm across the bed. The sheets were still warm with the memory of Kat’s body.

Falling asleep next to her had been…too damn good. In fact, he’d fought sleep for hours so he could watch her and memorize the slight rise and fall of her chest, and the cute way her breathing got deeper until she woke herself up with a little start. Not quite a snore, but…damn, it was sexy.

Not as sexy as it would be to have her beneath him while he—

His phone chimed on the bedside table where he’d left it plugged in the night before.

The second he looked at the screen, Andy regretted it.

Craig. Kat’s big brother. And his best friend.

Hey. Were you able to see Kat last night?

Did he ever? Shit.

Sure did. Cooked her dinner.

There was no point to add unnecessary details.

Thanks, man. I know it’s dumb, but I worry about her in the city alone. Glad she has you to look out for her while she’s there.

Andy couldn’t bring himself to respond. Instead, he put the phone down face-first on his nightstand as guilt flooded through him at what he’d done.

How had he talked himself into what had happened? He knew better. Dammit. He’d always known better.

But Kat had looked so damn good and so grown up and…they weren’t kids anymore, and…

It didn’t matter how he tried to justify it. He’d crossed a line with Kat, and he knew it. Hell, he’d known it when it was happening.

He couldn’t change what had happened. But he could prevent the situation from getting worse. There were certain things he’d never be able to come back from.

Down the hall, he heard the toilet flush and knew he had to move quickly. His entire body was screaming to stay in bed and finish what they’d started the night before. But with Craig’s untimely reminder that he’d just broken the number-one rule of best friends, there was no way that would be happening now.

Andy quickly grabbed a pair of jeans and a clean T-shirt, dressed in record time, and sprinted to the kitchen only moments before the bathroom door opened and Kat padded down the hallway. She had her back turned to him as she headed to the bedroom, which afforded him a very nice view of her backside. He swallowed hard, turned away, and busied himself by filling the kettle.

“Andy?”

“I’m in the kitchen.” He forced his voice to be light and easy. The worst thing he could do now was make it a thing. They’d had an amazing night, but that was all it could be. Besides, hadn’t she said it herself? Happy for right now.

If his throbbing cock was any proof, he was definitely not happy at the moment. But there didn’t seem to be any other option.

Kat appeared a few minutes later, wearing one of his T-shirts. The fabric hit her upper thighs, barely covering her.

Andy swallowed hard and forced himself to look away. “Coffee?”

“I didn’t think you were awake yet.” There was a question in her voice that he chose to ignore. “I was hoping you’d be—”

“I’m starving.” He cut her off. “And I’m dying for a cup of coffee.” He took the now boiling kettle and poured it over the grounds he’d prepared in the coffee press. “You still take yours with four sugars and three creams?”

She laughed, the sound filling the space between them. “Not since I was a teenager. I drink a much more adult, two sugars with one cream, now.”

She’d moved so she stood next to him. Her hand reached tentatively for him, as if she were feeling out the situation in the light of day.

He couldn’t blame her after his hasty exit from the bedroom. Still, he hated that she was questioning things.

“That is much more mature,” Andy said as he turned to face her. With one hand, he cupped her chin and kissed her tenderly. He was way past playing with fire, especially considering he knew exactly what could happen if he wasn’t careful. It was a fine line between throwing her over his shoulder and picking up where they’d left off, and the much more responsible behavior, concluding this little…whatever it was…in the best possible way. “I had a lot of fun last night, Kitty Kat.”

“So did I.” She pressed her lips to the tender skin beneath his ear and purred, “But I don’t think we’re done having fun yet.” Her hands trailed down his side, and his entire body vibrated under her touch.

A groan escaped his lips, and he swallowed hard. Turning away from her would be the hardest thing he’d done in a very long time. But there was no other option.

Andy captured her hands in his and held them between them. “I would love nothing more than to continue what we started last night, Kitty Kat.” He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “But I totally forgot I offered to pick up a shift at the clinic this morning. It’s not my usual shift, but I need the hours and…damn. I’ll call in sick.”

“No.” She stopped him, the way he knew she would. “Don’t call in sick. Especially if you’re covering for someone. That’s not fair. And I know you need the hours.” Her pretty lips curled down in a frown, but she caught herself quickly. “Do we have time for a coffee at least?”

Andy once more pressed his lips to hers in a sweet kiss. At least until they stepped out the door of his apartment, they could have this. “Of course we have time.” He released his hold on her and stepped back. “Go get dressed. It’ll be ready in another minute or so.”

CHAPTER FIVE

KAT DRESSED SLOWLY, taking her time to pull the skin tight dress up and over her body before tugging her long hair back into a ponytail.

It’s for the best.

She’d been repeating the same four words over and over since walking away from Andy, and she was finally starting to believe them.

Yes, she was disappointed. Beyond disappointed. Why had she fallen asleep?

It would be a question she’d be asking herself for a long time, she was certain. Still, it had been a fun night. And even if it hadn’t happened exactly the way she’d fantasized about, her girlhood dream of being with Andy Fisher had come true. And that really was something. Besides, now it was done and out of her system, and she could move on.

Andy would always hold a special place in her heart. He’d forever be the standard she held all men to. If they’d actually made love, Kat couldn’t imagine that she’d ever be able to find a man who could come close to meeting the expectations he would have set for her.

With a smile on her face, she left his bedroom and joined Andy in the kitchen.

He handed her a cup of coffee. “You know what? I’ve always thought you had the best smile.” His hand brushed her arm and lingered for a second. “I noticed it the very first time I met you.”

“You did not.”

“I did.” He sat down across from her. “And then every time I came over after that, I made it a point to make you smile. Especially if Craig upset you.”

“He always upset me.” Kat shook her head.

“That’s what big brothers do.”

“I guess.” She shrugged. “And that certainly hasn’t changed.”

“I bet it hasn’t.” Andy’s voice dropped. “And I’m sure he’s just as protective of you as always.”

There was something in his voice that Kat couldn’t quite read.

“He is.” She set her coffee down and looked Andy in the eyes. “If you’re worried about him being upset about what happened…” she started. “Don’t. He never has to know. In fact, he never will know.” She waited until she saw the acknowledgment on his face. “I meant what I said last night, Andy. We’re all grown up now and this…last night…that’s all it ever needs to be. All it ever will be. I’m not looking for the fairy tale.”

Not with you, she almost added, but bit down on her bottom lip to keep from blurting it out.

Andy reached across the table and took her hand in his. He threaded their fingers together. “How did you put it…happy for right now?”

She grinned and nodded. “You got it.”

“And are you?”

He looked at her with so much expectation on his face, Kat wasn’t sure what he was hoping the answer would be.

“I am,” she answered honestly. She waited for his response, hoping that he was all right with what had happened between them. But even if he wasn’t, for any reason at all, Kat would be okay. She’d made her decision long before accepting his dinner invitation, and no matter what Andy’s response would be, she would be fine with it because she really and truly was good with it.

After a moment, Andy’s lips curled up into a smile. “Me too.”

He squeezed her hand one more time before releasing it, and Kat knew that signified the end of their time together.

She left her coffee, abandoned on the counter, and prepared herself to leave. “Thank you again for dinner, Andy. After a busy week in the city, it really was the best way to end my trip.” And then, feeling a little wicked, she added, “And dessert was truly delicious.”

He laughed out loud. “You’re nothing but trouble.”

“You have no idea.” She winked at him and blew a kiss in his direction.

Andy walked her to the door and opened it. Right before she moved to walk out, he grabbed her hand and pulled her back into him.

She was breathless while he kissed her, only taking a breath as he pulled away.

“You really are something special, Kitty Kat.”

“I know.”

They both laughed.

“You are, too, Andy,” she added more seriously. “Honestly. Thank you for…well, thanks for the great night. Next time you’re in town, ice cream at the Sugar Shack is my treat.”

He shook his head, and she laughed again.

If she were being honest, it surprised her a little how okay she was with the way things were being left between them. But she was. It felt right and like it couldn’t have happened any other way.

“Bye, Andy.”

She turned and stepped into the hallway of his building.

“Kitty Kat?”

She turned slowly to face him.

“I get the whole happy-for-right-now thing,” he said softly. “But I really hope that one day you do believe in happy endings, because you deserve nothing less.”

Kat let the smile lift her lips as she took his words in. “You never know, Andy.” She blew him a kiss. “Maybe one day.”

Click here to get an exclusive novella and learn more about Kat, Andy and everyone else in the brand new small mountain town series, Trickle Creek coming this Fall!

www.elenaaitken.com/DissentTrickleCreek/

About the Author

Elena Aitken is a USA Today Bestselling Author of more than fifty romance and women’s fiction novels. The mother of ‘grown up’ twins, Elena now lives with her very own mountain man in the heart of the very mountains she writes about. She can often be found with her toes in the lake and a glass of wine in her hand, dreaming up her next book and working on her own happily ever after.

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STORMS AND SEX CLUBS

SAINT VIEW SHORT AND SMUTTY

ELLE THORPE

A Saint View High, Saint View Prison, and Saint View Psychos Crossover Story

CHAPTER ONE

BLISS

“REMEMBER that time Nash almost got his dick pierced?” Scythe winced, pausing his TikTok scrolling to glance over at the rest of us sprawled across the couch.

War tossed a piece of popcorn into the air and caught it in his mouth. “Remember how he backed out like a pussy?”

Scythe grinned. “I just watched a video of this guy’s face while he had his done. Classic. I thought he was gonna pass out.”

It was typical Scythe to enjoy watching other people’s pain. I loved the man, but he was a complete psychopath.

I grabbed the popcorn bowl from War and settled it on my lap. Every day there was less and less room there as our little baby grew inside me. “Leave Nash alone. It’s not like either of you have anything interesting pierced.”

Scythe held up his phone so we could see the video in question. “I would at least not look as green as this guy. I thought he was gonna cry.” There was sheer delight in his voice.

I couldn’t even blame him. He didn’t get to maim and murder the way he once used to, working as a hitman for his family business. He had to get his fix somewhere now that he’d turned over a new leaf.

He shoved the phone closer to Nash’s face. “See the tears in his eyes? Lucky you backed out. You would have embarrassed yourself.”

Nash tugged me closer, pressing his lips to my hair, and ignoring Scythe’s gleeful teasing. He was well used to it by now, and Nash always took it in stride, knowing Scythe only mocked people he loved. “Actually, I was thinking again about getting it done. The idea is growing on me.”

Scythe threw down the phone so hard it bounced off the couch cushions and tumbled to the carpet. “Let’s go do it now before you back out!”

War put his hand on Scythe’s thigh and squeezed it. “Settle down there, before I assume you’re as into Nash’s dick as you’re into mine.”

Scythe winked at him. “You know I’m a one dick sorta guy.” Then he glanced at me with a laugh. “Unlike some people around here who need three to be satisfied.”

I rolled my eyes and tossed a piece of popcorn at him. “One is fine. Three is just better.”

War raised an eyebrow and glanced at the other two guys. “Did anyone else take that as a challenge?”

“Fuck yes,” Nash murmured, his deep growl vibrating through my chest and settling pleasantly right between my thighs. “If I’m going to be out of action for a few weeks, I need to get my fill of you now.”

I twisted so we were facing each other. “You’re seriously going to do it?”

“I talked to Dax at the tattoo parlor the other day. He said if I ever grow the balls to do it, he’ll fit me in any time. We’ve got time before we’re meeting Lacey and Mae and everyone else at the club…”

Heat flared at the thought of Nash’s ten-inch cock pierced with a barbell. About how it would feel, having it hit places deep inside me.

Nash moved in so his lips hovered over mine. “I won’t be able to use my dick for a few weeks, but that just means I get to go down on you every day instead.”

At just the idea of having him between my thighs every morning, a breathy moan slipped from my lips.

Nash caught it with his mouth, stealing a kiss before he pulled away, murmuring, “Yeah, it’s happening. Look how hot it’s got you. Fuck, I love when you look at me like that.”

I pulled away. “Your unpierced dick needs a good send-off first.”

“Hear! Hear!” Scythe called out. “Time for a little male-male action, huh, Nash? You finally going to join in with us?”

Nash grinned and shook his head. “Nope. I’m good watching. Got all I need right here.” He squeezed my thigh.

A warm glow lit me up at his words, and I got to my knees on the carpet. Nash widened his legs so I could fit between them. I stroked the growing bulge beneath his gray sweatpants.

Scythe shrugged, watching me feel Nash up. “I hear you. Watching is good.”

War raised an eyebrow. “That so?”

Scythe grinned at him. “You know I love watching you suck my dick. Or Bliss’s pussy. I’m an equal opportunity voyeur.”

War groaned and joined me on the carpet. Heat flared in Scythe gaze as he leaned back on the couch, mirroring Nash’s position.

War grabbed the back of my neck, twisting my head so I’d look at him. His smile was playful, full of mischief. “Did this just become a competition?”

I kissed his mouth, pressing my tongue past his lips to stroke against his before I answered. “Race you.”

I tugged on Nash’s drawstring, loosening the waistband enough that he could lift his ass and drag his sweatpants down. His thick cock was already hard from my fondling and watching me kiss War. I gripped him with both hands, sliding up and down his impressive length until he was fully erect, the blunt head of him just begging for my mouth.

With one hand still wrapped around his base, I licked the underside of his cock, running my tongue along the sensitive vein, before putting my lips around him.

Beside me, War did the same thing to Scythe, matching my movements, bobbing his head over the other man’s lap.

I squeezed my thighs together. I liked watching just as much as they did. The sight of two guys as into each other as Scythe and War were never failed to make me hot.

Nash speared his fingers into my hair, gathering the long auburn strands up into a ponytail he could wrap his fingers around. My scalp prickled deliciously at the slight tug he used to capture my attention again, and I rewarded him by taking him deep into my mouth.

With every plunge, he seemed to grow, and I flicked the tip of him with my tongue. Soon there’d be a bar through that, making the whole thing even more sensitive. I couldn’t wait to watch him unravel when I finally got to try it out.

“War, fuck. Faster,” Scythe groaned, jacking his hips and fucking into War’s mouth with abandon.

War took every thrust, his own dick thickening behind his pants. I worked Nash harder and faster, determined to catch up and have him on the verge, just the way Scythe was.

War won the game. Scythe came with a shout of ecstasy that drowned out the movie still playing in the background. War swallowed thickly, taking everything Scythe had given him, and then crawled up his body to kiss him. “Fucking love you,” he whispered, dragging Scythe’s T-shirt over his head, getting him completely naked. “But now I gotta make my girl come too.”

Excitement lit me up inside, knowing what was coming, and more than eager for it. Nash’s thighs tensed beneath my hands, and I knew he was holding back, trying to drag this out for as long as he could.

Behind me, War lifted my skirt, exposing my thong and ass cheeks. He took two handfuls, squeezing my ass deliciously before slipping his fingers beneath the fabric of my underwear. “Fucking love when you wear these little scraps of nothing. And even better when they’re as soaked as this one is right now. You horny, baby girl? You like watching him come in my mouth?”

I moaned my reply, not willing to stop working Nash for even a moment. War knew exactly how I felt about him and Scythe. It was why the four of us worked so well.

He had my thong off in a second, threads ripping in his haste to get me naked. Scythe slipped to the floor beside him, squirming his broad shoulders beneath me from one side. He rubbed a hand over my baby bump but it was his tongue that found his way to my clit.

“Oh!” I shouted around Nash’s dick, so the cry came out muffled. But that first touch of Scythe’s tongue was everything I’d been wanting. Everything I craved whenever I was around the three of them. Scythe sucked and licked me relentlessly while I did the same to Nash. Nash’s precum coated my taste buds, tangy and hot, just the way I liked. Scythe licked every inch of my arousal from between my folds, like it was honey he couldn’t get enough of.

War’s palm slapped my ass cheek, making it jiggle and he groaned. “Gonna get inside you now, baby girl. Can’t wait any longer.”

“Yes!” I moaned, pulling off Nash’s dick to pant with need. The pleasure surging through me was intense, need coiling deep just from Scythe’s tongue and Nash’s cock in my mouth. Those second trimester pregnancy hormones seemed to always have me sensitive and needy.

Thankfully, I always had men willing to help.

War pushed his cock inside my pussy, stretching me wide to accommodate his size and making me howl wantonly. “Oh, God!” I shouted, the pleasure of having them both work my body so intense I could feel the orgasm begin to take hold. “Not yet!”

I couldn’t come yet. I hadn’t had my fill of the way I felt when the three of them worshipped me like this. I never felt more loved or adored or as sexy as I did when all three of them wanted me at once.

War pulled out and Scythe eased up on my clit. When I glanced down between my legs at them, I nearly came again, watching War thrust into Scythe’s mouth before pressing back inside my body.

“Fuck,” Nash muttered. “Gonna come, Blissy girl.”

He always warned me. Always gave me the chance to pull away. I never took it. His hot cum hit the back of my throat and I swallowed him down, pleasure coursing through me at every drop, knowing it was me who’d done that to him. Me and my belly rolls and jiggly ass made this beautiful man come undone.

Nash was sinfully hot when he came and I drank in the sight of his abs flexing, and his head thrown back, cushioned by the back of the couch, as his orgasm stole over him. It rendered him completely helpless for a few minutes, and I reveled in the control he gave up to me so willingly.

I loved him with everything I had.

I loved all three of them with every ounce of my being.

I dropped my head down onto Nash’s lower abs, pressing my lips to his tightly muscled torso, while War and Scythe worked my lower body into a frenzy of lust and need.

Nash recovered quickly, pulling my dress over my head, and unsnapping my bra. “Up, Blissy girl,” he commanded. “Want your tits in my hands when they make you scream.”

I loved when they talked like that, bossing me around, telling me exactly what dirty things they wanted to do to me. It only built the need inside me, and I did as I was told, straightening so he could pull my bra off and cup my breasts. He tweaked my sensitive nipples, rolling and playing with them between his thumb and forefinger until sharp darts of pleasure zoomed all over my body.

“I need to come,” I moaned, my legs beginning to shake with the overwhelming need inside me.

War wrapped an arm around me for support as he fucked me from behind. His thick forearm fit perfectly beneath my breasts but above the bump that was our baby. His fingers splayed out protectively over her, holding me tight in the process.

Not one of them had a problem with my changing body. In the same way they’d all accepted I was never going to be a tiny, stick of a woman, they’d accepted my fuller breasts and baby bump without blinking an eye. They’d never once given me a chance to feel like I wasn’t still attractive to them. If anything, they were even more obsessed with me, taking care of me lovingly when I’d had morning sickness, and stepping up to the plate when that had passed, and I’d hit the second trimester horniness.

Nash leaned in and kissed me deep, drilling his tongue into my mouth, stealing my breath in a gasp. I hooked my arms around his neck as the orgasm whipped around my body, setting alight every nerve ending.

“Oh!” I screamed, breaking away as the thread holding me together snapped and I spiraled into myself. “Oh, God.” I buried my face in Nash’s neck and let the feeling overwhelm me. Every muscle gave out beneath the intense pleasure, and deep inside me, War came with a cry of his own.

All three of them were there to catch me on the downfall, War pulling out gently, leaving me aching and sensitive in the most perfect of ways. He picked me up easily, and I knew better by now than to fight him about my weight being too much. He deposited me gently on the couch once more, covering me with a blanket when, completely sated and satisfied, I closed my eyes and reveled in the afterglow.

But then there was a thump inside me, and my eyes flew open.

All three of their expression changed from relaxed calm to worry when they took in my expression.

“What?” Nash asked. “What just happened?”

I grabbed his hand and guided it to my belly.

The baby gave a resounding kick, well, hard enough that Nash’s eyes went wide. “Is that…”

Scythe shoved Nash out of the way in his haste to get a hand to my belly and was rewarded with another nudge from our unborn child. His grin turned wide. “Did the baby just high-five me?”

I took War’s hand and pressed it into the same spot. It took a moment of waiting, but then the little one inside me gave her third daddy a solid kick to his palm.

“Is that what you’ve been feeling the last few weeks?” he asked me, all three of their hands protectively on my stomach as the baby put on a show.

I nodded. “Not this strong. But she’s getting bigger.”

She settled down, and one by one, they gave up getting any more kicks from the baby they’d meet in just a few months. Scythe was the last to give up, but as soon as he did, he eyed Nash with a wicked grin. “Now that you got your dick sucked, ready to go get it pierced?”

War and I looked to Nash. I didn’t know about War, but I was fairly surprised when Nash nodded.

But within ten minutes, we were on our way to Saint View Tattoo, ready to get a Prince Albert.

IT HAD RAINED the last time Nash and I had found ourselves at Saint View Tattoo Parlor. Today was no different. Rivulets ran down the glass shopfront, but the inside of the store was warm and dry. The walls were decorated floor to ceiling with Dax, the owner’s art, as well as that of his three brothers.

Scythe and War wandered around the room, inspecting each piece like they were in a museum.

Nash sat nervously beside me on the waiting room chairs while Dax sanitized his workspace, which consisted of a chair that looked like it belonged in a dentist office, and an array of equipment that looked like something out of a medical horror movie.

I caught Nash’s bouncing leg and squeezed the spot above his knee. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

He was slightly green, just like the last time we’d tried this.

Scythe sniggered. “You’ve still got the other nipple to pierce if you want to back out.”

I bit my lip, fighting back a laugh. Nash was never going to live it down if he backed out again. Scythe would tease him endlessly. Though that was pretty standard practice at our place.

Dax patted the padded chair with a chuckle. “Come on, big boy. Up you get.”

The nickname was fitting. Because Nash’s dick had a reputation for its size. Which was one-hundred-percent warranted. It was a monster.

Nash stood, pulling me up with him, his fingers clutched tightly between mine. He swallowed so thickly, I could hear it, then led me slowly toward Dax, palm slick with sweat. He stopped about a foot away and stared at the piercing equipment in Dax’s hand.

“Does anyone have any water?” Nash’s voice was dry and raspy, as he ran a hand across his forehead. He wobbled again and I tried to let go of his hand to grip his biceps in an attempt to steady him.

Dax’s teasing smile dropped from his face. His eyes widened, and like he was suddenly in slow motion, he lunged forward, reaching for Nash. “He’s going down!”

As Dax predicted, Nash’s wobble turned into a full-blown buckle and his knees crashed to the ground.

I screamed, trying to catch him, but I was no match for his height and weight. He hit the floor hard, only narrowly avoiding face-planting into the tiles because Dax was quick enough to dive for his head.

“Oh, wow.” Scythe crossed his arms over his solid chest, watching the scene unfold. “And you all think I’m dramatic.”

War shoved him out of the way and knelt at Nash’s side. War tilted his head, studying Nash, and then slapped his cheek a few times. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty. This ain’t the place for a nap.”

I punched War on the arm, but my main concern was making sure Nash was okay. I tried to calm my racing heart, knowing stress wouldn’t be good for the baby.

Nash was coming to anyway. He blinked a few times, looking around from his new vantage point on the floor, then groaned. “I’m never gonna live this down, am I?”

Relief fueled me. I brushed his hair back off his forehead. “Unlikely.”

Dax shoved his fingers against Nash’s wrist, checking his pulse against his wristwatch. After a moment, he dropped his arm, satisfied. “I think you’ll live. But perhaps this piercing isn’t for you.”

Nash struggled to sit up, batting War and Dax away when they tried to help him. “No, I’m doing it.” He tried to stand, and sat right back down on his ass again, looking dazed. “Somebody else get something tattooed and give me a minute to recover, will you?” he grumbled.

“I will!” Scythe with his golden retriever energy bounded over.

But War blocked him, plonking himself down on Dax’s seat before Scythe could beat him to it. “Me first.”

Dax and I helped Nash off the floor and into the waiting room chairs again, but once Nash was settled, Dax cracked his knuckles. “War stepping up to the plate! What’s it gonna be?”

“A Care Bear!” Scythe called gleefully. “The one with the rainbow on its stomach.”

War flipped him the bird, but then he softened, looking at me. “Actually, I want Bliss’s name.”

“Seriously?” I asked.

He nodded, pulling his shirt off. “Across my chest. Like Scythe’s.”

Dax raised an eyebrow in Scythe’s direction. “Show us what you got, so I know what I’m working toward.”

Scythe froze, his gaze planted firmly on War. Then slowly, he peeled his shirt off, revealing the crude scars Caleb’s knife had left in his skin.

They weren’t tattoos. They were trauma. A mutilation. But Scythe had worn them with pride. Every time I’d touched my lips to them and cried over how he’d suffered on my behalf; he’d told me my name in his skin would always be beautiful.

Tears pricked at the backs of my eyes, knowing War wanted his to match.

To Dax’s credit, he didn’t comment. Just nodded. “Give me ten minutes to get something sketched up.”

Hours later, War walked out of the tattoo parlor with bandages across his chest.

Scythe and I walked out together, his arm slung around my shoulders, the two of us picking up the pace to avoid getting soaked in the worsening rain.

And Nash walked out with his reputation restored, and an icepack on his pierced junk.

CHAPTER TWO

MAE

ROWE SHIFTED and squirmed on the backseat of our new minivan. He smoothed his palms over his pants, and rolled his head from side to side, until something in his neck popped audibly.

Liam glanced over at him from his spot across the vehicle. “Nervous about going to a sex club?”

Rowe glared at him. “It’s fine for you and your public sex kink. But for the rest of us mere mortals, who generally prefer privacy over audience, it’s a bit awkward.”

“No one is indulging in any kinks outside the four of us.” Heath gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Don’t even fucking think about it.”

I reached over and put my hand to the back of his neck, stroking my fingers through his hair soothingly. “Nobody is having sex tonight. Bliss said there’s no party, it’s their night off. They’re only opening for us. This is just a catch-up with friends. No funny business to be had.”

Rowe grumbled, staring out the window at the rain that was getting heavier by the minute. “This storm is getting worse. We should just go home.”

I shook my head determinedly. “Nope. Nobody is going home, you grump. Vincent has worked at this club for months now. He and Bliss have invited us multiple times, and we’ve chickened out of every one.”

“The baby…”

“Will be just fine with Tori and Perry.” I twisted around to look into the back where my two big guys were squished either side of our son’s car seat. “Please? We haven’t had a night out since Jay was born. We aren’t even thirty yet—”

“Speak for yourself,” Heath mumbled.

“What he said.” Rowe nodded his agreement, even though he was barely thirty himself.

A smile lifted the corner of my mouth. “Fine. Some of us in this car aren’t thirty yet.” I eyed Rowe because he was the worst perpetrator. “And we stay at home every night like we’re eighty.”

Liam grinned. “Nothing wrong with staying in. I don’t hear you complaining when the four of us, ‘watch a movie.’” He said it with air quotes, and I blushed, knowing exactly what he meant. The last time we’d all watched a movie together it had ended up in an all-night foursome, with me in the center, and coming more times than I could count.

But that was pre-baby. It had been a long while since we’d done that.

“I just wanted one night to get dressed up, put on clothes that don’t have baby puke on the sleeve, and feel pretty.”

“You’re pretty even when you’re covered in baby puke,” Rowe offered.

I smiled at him. “Charmer. But that’s not going to get you out of this. It’s just a couple hours of hanging out with our friends, and then we can go back home, and put on sweats while it rains outside. Deal?”

He didn’t get a chance to confirm or deny, because Heath was pulling into the parking lot of a huge gray building, with the most terrifying looking clown logo painted over the doors.

“Oh my,” I whispered, sitting back in shock at the horrifying image.

Heath chuckled. “Ah, there’s my Providence-born girl, coming out to play. Changed your mind?”

The trees around the parking lot thrashed in the wind, and thunder boomed overhead, giving the bar deep in the seediest part of Saint View an even creepier vibe. If I hadn’t just given Rowe a hard time about being a hermit, I might have suggested we go home after all.

But our friends were inside waiting for us, and ever since Bliss had told us about her club, where they held regular sex parties and kink nights, something inside me had been insanely curious. It had been me who’d pushed for this meetup, claiming the fact we wanted to support her business as an excuse to come here.

“We’re late. Everyone will be waiting for us. Let’s go.” I pushed open my door, squealing as the cold rain hit my skin. In an instant, Heath had rounded the van, holding his jacket over my head and we ran together toward the terrifying clown mural with Psychos painted in place of teeth.

We crashed through the doorway, Liam and Rowe catching up with us as we entered the lobby.

“You made it!” Bliss came running over. “I wasn’t sure if you would. It’s getting pretty gnarly out there.”

I hugged the other woman, mindful of her growing baby bump. “No way was a little bad weather keeping us from this catch-up. Look at your belly! You’re twice the size you were the last time I saw you.”

Bliss rubbed her bump proudly as Vincent came over. Or was it Scythe? I’d gotten to know Vincent when he’d been an inmate in my prison classroom, and I’d only gotten brief glimpses of his alter ego during that time. “Which psycho?” I whispered to Bliss.

“Vincent,” she whispered back. “Scythe was around earlier, but he knows you’re V’s friends more.”

If I hadn’t asked, I would have known the minute he opened his mouth. “It’s nice to see you, Miss Donovan.”

I smiled warmly at the man who’d saved both my life and my family’s lives more than once. I fought off the urge to hug him because I knew he didn’t really like it. “You know you can call me Mae, right?”

“I know.”

“But you’re not going to stop with the Miss Donovan thing, huh?”

“No.”

Heath gave a little chuckle and shook hands with the other man. “Good to see you, kid.”

Like Vincent would probably always call me Miss Donovan, Heath would probably always call Vincent ‘Kid.’ Vincent was anything but a child. He was tall and lean, fit and strong. But Heath had put himself in that father figure role when the two of them had shared a prison cell, and he probably wouldn’t ever see their relationship any differently.

Despite Vincent’s psychopathic and violent tendencies, he didn’t seem to mind the nickname.

I tucked my arm through Bliss’s. “So, give us the grand tour of this club we’ve heard so much about.”

Bliss’s eyes sparkled. “Let’s start with the party rooms.”

Heat flushed my face. “By party you mean…”

“Sex parties. Yep. We aren’t exactly known for our corporate events.” She let out a giggle. “Might be the clown on the door. Or the whips and bondage gear on the walls? Who knows?”

She led us through a door I wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t pulled back the curtain covering it and ushered us inside. We dropped our coats onto hangers in a coatroom, and with my heart thumping a little too fast, I followed Bliss through a door on the other side, and into a much larger space.

“So this is the main room.” Bliss waved an arm around. “Imagine dim lights, low music, and everyone in various states of undress. The bar is over there, that gets pretty busy on party nights. People like to congregate around it. But we also have waiters who walk around and serve drinks. We like to keep everyone pretty liquored up.” She grinned. “Helps ease inhibitions.”

I would definitely need to be very drunk to do the things I imagined happened in this room. “What are those for?” There were several huge gold cages on wheels, pushed to one side of the room.

Bliss grabbed my hand and towed me over to one. “They’re performance cages. We stagger them around the room, and have performers come in. They’re strictly for people to watch, unless invited to touch.”

I did a double take. “Wait, when you say performers…”

“I don’t think she meant jugglers.” Liam put his arm around my shoulders. “Right, Bliss?”

Bliss shook her head. “We normally have a solo female, and a solo male, who’ll dance, strip, and masturbate. Then we’ll have a couple. And normally we have a threesome or foursome as well.”

My eyes went wide. “And they just…”

“Have sex while an entire roomful of people watch.” Rowe finished the question for me. But I didn’t miss the deepening in his voice, or the way he stood a little closer to me, his heat radiating through my back. The urge to reach behind me and see if he was getting turned on struck me, but I stopped myself before I could.

We weren’t alone. Though the four of us were no strangers to foursomes, it had been a long time since we’d been spontaneous or public about it.

They’d been treating me so reverently since I’d had the baby. We’d had sex of course, I couldn’t have kept my hands off them that long, but it was one on one, and them treating me so gently. Like I was breakable. I loved being a mother, and the deep respect and love these men showed me, but I kind of missed how we’d been before. When they’d thought nothing of pulling over on the side of the road and fucking me until I couldn’t even get a word out, except, “Yes!”

Sometimes, I kinda just wanted them to completely disrespect me and shove me up against a wall.

Not that I’d told them that.

“Let’s keep going.” Bliss led our little group to the far side of the room, weaving through couches and tables and large mattress-shaped benches. “So people can do whatever they want out here in the main room. Watch. Participate. Go solo or join a group. Anything goes. But down here…”

We entered a wide hallway, and Bliss flicked on a light switch, illuminating the space gently. Then pointed to the first door. “This is my office, but that’s the only boring room on this side of the club.”

I laughed. “Why does that sound slightly terrifying?”

She grabbed my hand and towed me farther down the hallway. “You sound like me when I first got here. I promise, it’s anything but terrifying.” She wriggled her eyebrows suggestively as she opened the door to another room. “We’ve got all sorts of private rooms along this hallway that can be hired for the night. Some are pretty tame. Most people start with these ones along here that just have peepholes.”

“Peepholes are tame?” I choked out.

Bliss pointed to the room across the hall. “Comparatively. This one is attached to the room next to it, with a window so you can watch another couple. We’ve got several toy rooms, and then down the back are the bondage rooms. Do you want to see them?”

“Yes, please,” I answered so quickly that Liam glanced sharply at me and raised an eyebrow.

I elbowed him. “What?” I hissed. “I’m being polite.”

We walked down the hall side by side, and he laughed at me. “Polite. Sure. You answered so quick you should have won a gold medal for kink interest.”

“Shut up.” I hurried forward a few steps, leaving him behind me because the man knew me way too well, and I knew if I stood there next to him for a moment longer, he’d realize exactly how interested I really was.

I tucked my arm into Bliss’s and looked back over my shoulder to check the guys were all preoccupied by their own conversations. They were busy talking with Vincent, so I took the opportunity to quench my burning curiosity. “Do you…have you tried out any of these rooms?” I whispered to her.

She winked at me. “All of them.”

The two of us burst into laughter. She pulled me a little closer, keeping her voice low too, the conversation just for us girls. “Which one strikes your fancy? I happen to know the owner. I can get you in.” She laughed again.

I found my gaze straying to a room that had straps hanging from both the ceiling and attached to the bedframe.

Bliss nodded encouragingly. “That’s probably the best room we have. We charge a fortune for it because it’s a bit of everything. We call it a bondage room because of the installed restraints but there’s all sorts of goodies in there. You’re more than welcome to use it.”

“Where is everyone?” Nash called from the coatroom. “Lacey and the guys are here. You all coming out?”

Saved by the bell.

Bliss and I followed the guys back into the much more regular looking side of Bliss’s premises. This side was more like a sports bar. There was a big screen TV on one wall, that silently played an old episode of Friends, but I’d bet was mostly used for games. There were a couple of pool tables at the back of the room, and a bar with an attached kitchen taking up the other side. In the middle were a dozen or so tables that had all been pushed together to form one long one for our group to sit at.

Lacey jumped up and came rushing over to us, throwing her arms around both me and Bliss. “I’m so sorry we’re late! That storm is a doozy. Luna was scared and needed extra cuddles before we could get her down for the babysitter.”

Lacey, Bliss, and I had all formed an instant friendship, based on our unique relationship statuses. Lacey had three partners, one of them, Colt, worked with me and Rowe at the prison. His relationship with Lacey, and their other two partners, Banjo and Rafe, was the entire reason I’d realized I didn’t have to choose just one man when I’d fallen for three of them. They were the youngest of all of us, but they’d known what they wanted, and that was each other. They’d defied everyone around them, developing their own relationship, no care given to other people’s opinions, all care given to the feelings between them. They had been relationship goals since the moment I’d met them, and I was endlessly grateful for it. I couldn’t imagine my life any other way, and now Bliss seemed to feel the same. But it was Lacey, Colt, Banjo, and Rafe who had normalized it for all of us.

We all settled into the seats, each foursome naturally mixing ourselves up, so we could all talk. I found myself next to Banjo, and across the table from Vincent. With the group being so large, we fell into smaller, more personal conversations with whoever was close enough to hear without shouting over the storm that continued raging outside.

Vincent watched me with warm eyes, like he always did, content to sit and listen while I asked Banjo about how his football career was going. He answered politely, and continued the conversation, asking how our sons were, and if I’d gone back to the prison after my maternity leave.

But the more he talked, the more bothered I became. Normally, Banjo was sweet and kind and thoughtful, but also full of life and energy, barely able to sit still long enough for a meal before he was ready to go kick a ball or head to the beach for a surf. There was none of that spark in him today.

I touched his tanned arm gently. “Tell me to butt out if you want, but are you okay? You seem off tonight.”

Rafe leaned over from farther down the table, clearly having overheard our conversation. “I’ve been asking him the same thing all day.”

Banjo forced a smile when all of the others stopped their conversation to look our way. “I’m fine. It’s Augie’s birthday today, and I just feel a bit weird about it.” He glanced in my direction, but his words were loud enough for the entire table to hear. “Augie’s my brother.”

“Ah, shit.” Rafe raked a hand through his hair. “I didn’t realize the date.”

“Did he die?” I asked.

Banjo laughed. “No, sorry. I’m just being dramatic. We had a falling out a couple years ago. It’s no big deal.”

I cocked my head, studying him. “Kinda seems like it might be a big deal.”

His shoulders fell an inch. “You might be right. Things happened. At the time, cutting him out of our lives was the right thing to do. But now…” He shrugged. “I don’t know. Now I can kind of see it through his eyes, and maybe it wasn’t as black and white as I thought back then. He’s got this great little niece he’s never even met… He’s Luna’s only uncle…”

“You miss him.” Lacey got up and made her way along the table to wrap her arms around Banjo from behind. “He’s your only family.”

“You’re my family.”

She kissed his cheek. “You know what I mean. If you want to reach out to him, you can. He’s literally right around the corner.” She lifted her head and addressed the rest of us. “He works at Saint View Strip.”

Vincent sat up a little straighter. “My younger sister works there. Fawn. She doesn’t speak to me either, so other than finding out where she was, I don’t have any contact with her. She wants nothing to do with our family. And I respect that because I’m constantly trying to distance myself from our parents too.” He eyed Banjo. “But if she reached out to me, saying she wanted me back in her life, I’d be very pleased.”

Banjo nodded slowly. “I’ll think about it.”

Vincent gave him a nod of solidarity, but then the thunder outside cracked so loudly, I jumped a mile. Something crashed outside with an earsplitting bang.

“What was that?” Bliss cringed, clutching a hand over her chest.

We all scrambled to our feet, rushing for the windows at the front of the room, each of us cupping our hands around our eyes and trying to see through the sheets of rain outside.

Nash groaned. “Shit. It’s that huge tree near the driveway.”

I grimaced. The massive tree had been happily flapping around in the breeze when we’d driven down the private road that took us to Psychos parking lot. Now that same tree was very still, lying silently on its side across the road, ripped up from its roots by the gusty winds.

“Thank God the bar was closed to the public tonight.” Bliss wrung her hands. “There would have been cars parked there if this had been a party night. Someone could have been hurt.”

“But nobody was,” I assured her, trying to ease the worry lines that had popped up on her forehead. “We’re all fine. Safe and dry…”

“And stuck,” War supplied, staring at the huge trunk blocking the only road in and out. “There’s no way anyone’s cars are getting around that. I’ll get some of the guys from my club out here in the morning with chainsaws and we’ll make firewood of it. Hopefully the power stays on until then.”

“Even if it doesn’t, we have a generator,” Bliss assured us all. “There’s plenty of food in the kitchen and help yourselves to anything behind the bar. Looks like we’re here for the night.”

CHAPTER THREE

MAE

I WAS A LITTLE BIT DRUNK. We all were, except for Bliss who was very patiently watching over all of us with an amused smile for her tipsy friends.

“Having fun?” she asked, handing me a drink across the bar top where she’d been mixing up cocktails.

I really was. “Is it weird how much I needed this? I love Jay and Ripley…”

“Of course you do!”

“They’re the best things that ever happened to me, bar their daddies. But God! This feels so good. No responsibilities! No worrying about bedtimes, or Ripley’s homework, or…” I laughed. “Being quiet while we have sex!” I clapped a hand over my mouth. “Sorry, was that too much information?”

Bliss laughed. “Not at all. Nobody likes sex on mute.”

“Right!” I definitely was a bit tipsy because I was really running my mouth right now. “Sometimes you just wanna grab their hair, hold their faces to your pussy, and ride their tongues until you scream. But you can’t do that when there’s a baby asleep in the next room.”

Bliss moved the drink away from me. “Okay, sex mama. I think you’re cut off.”

I snorted and stole the drink back. “Stop. I’m fine. But it’s true. Seriously, Bliss, ask Lacey. Enjoy all the loud orgasms now before you’ve got a bassinette in the corner of your bedroom. You’ll love that baby endlessly, but they’re total mood killers.” I glanced around the room. “Where is Lacey? She needs to back me up on this one.”

Bliss jerked her head toward the curtained off door, and the party rooms beyond it. “She, Colt, Rafe, and Banjo called it a night. They went looking for a bed.”

My eyes widened, and I twisted on my seat to stare at the door. “They did not!” I leaned into Bliss. “Which room did they choose?”

She winked at me. “Toy room, I think.”

“Go, Lacey. I’m impressed.” I bit my lip. “Where are you going to sleep?”

Bliss was trying to hold back her laughter. She put her elbows down on the bar top, resting her chin in her hands. “We’re going to take one of the peephole rooms. And we’re going to shut the cover, because friends don’t need to see friends in the position I’m going to be in tonight. You know, since you just warned me to get it while I still can.”

I slapped her arm. “Get out, you horn dog!”

She cracked up laughing and straightened to wipe her hands on her apron. “Hey, I’ve got second trimester pregnancy hormones to blame. What’s your excuse?”

I glanced over at my guys, all three of them standing around the pool table. Liam with his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows to show off his forearms. He’d worn his glasses tonight and, damn, he looked sexy. Rowe and Heath stood side by side, Heath an inch or two taller and thickly muscled. His tattoo curled up the side of his neck and into his hair and I had the strong urge to trace it with my tongue. Rowe had loosened up considerably and was definitely a little on the drunk side. I could tell he was feeling the alcohol and the vibe of this place as much as I was, because when our gazes collided, heat flared in his. “Them,” I said to Bliss. “They’re my excuse.”

She glanced over at her own guys and nodded in understanding. She rounded the bar, pausing beside me to drop a small gold key into my palm. “The bondage room is yours for the night, Mae. Have fun.”

With barely a glance in their direction, War, Nash, and Vincent abandoned their drinks and followed Bliss through the coatroom.

I leaned back on the bar top, suddenly needing something to support me as a flood of heat rushed me. It was just me and the three men I loved left, and we had no where to be, and nothing to do.

Except each other.

I wandered across the room to them, and watched Heath shoot the final ball into the pocket of the pool table. It went in effortlessly, and he grinned as he straightened. It was only then he noticed the entire room had emptied out. “Where’d everyone go?”

“To bed.” I held up a key and dangled it in front of him. “Bliss gave us one too.”

A wicked glint gleamed in his eye as he took the key from my fingertips. “That so?” He turned it over in his hand, but then shoved it deep in his pocket. “What if I don’t want to go to bed?”

He moved in closer, caging me in so the edge of the pool table pressed against the back of my hips. “What if I want to indulge the thoughts I’ve been having all night…”

He dropped his hands to the table edge, bringing our heads to the same height.

“What thoughts would they be?” I asked.

I wasn’t a tiny woman. I was curvy—even more so since having Jay—but Heath lifted me easily, sitting me on the pool table.

He pushed my knees apart, making room for his big body in between, and brushed his lips over mine. “I’ve been thinking about lifting your skirt and taking you on this table ever since we got here.” His lips slipped to my neck, sucking a hot trail of open-mouthed kisses over my pulse. “I haven’t seen you wear one of these skirts in so long. I’d forgotten how good the access is.”

His hand ran up my inner thigh, gathering up the material of my long, flowy skirt as he went. He was right. I’d ditched my skirts in favor of sweat pants lately, but as Heath’s fingers found my clit, I vowed to start wearing them every day again. I clutched his shoulder as pleasure spiked from his touch.

“I thought we weren’t doing anything kinky tonight,” Liam said with a chuckle. But he and Rowe leaned back on the wall, behind Heath, watching me intently while Heath worked my body. “Not complaining though. We should make full use of our child-free night if you ask me.”

“We have a room,” I whispered when Heath thrust two fingers up inside me. “We shouldn’t be doing this here. Someone could come out.” But at the same time, despite my protests, I undid Heath’s belt and jeans and freed his thick cock.

“Too late, sweetheart,” he said into my neck. “Been too long since I had you like this. Gonna make you come but I gotta fuck you first.”

A thrill shot through me. This was the way we’d always been before the baby had been born. We’d been spontaneous. Public. Passionate. All of us so desperate for each other we couldn’t wait until we were safely home, in the privacy of our cabin.

“I’ve missed this,” I admitted to them, drawing Heath closer, notching his dick at my entrance. We’d had sex since the baby, but not like this. Not hot and dirty and raw.

“We didn’t want to push you,” Heath said carefully, pulling back to check my expression. “You birthed a child, Mae. That’s a lot.”

I leaned in and kissed him. “You aren’t pushing me. I want this. I want you. All of you.” I clutched at his hips, pulling them forward, encouraging him to take me.

He sank inside, and we both moaned gratefully. I hadn’t needed a lot of foreplay. I never had when I was around them, though all three of them loved to torture me with buildup until I was pleading for them to let me come. But not tonight. Tonight, Heath and I would do this hard and fast, before anyone caught us.

He kissed me deeply while he thrust in and out of me, each one bottoming out, his pubic bone hitting my clit deliciously. I wanted to be naked, stripped bare for him to suck and feast on, but there’d be time to slow this down later. Right now we both needed to come, just once to take the edge off.

My panties ripped in Heath’s grip, and he pushed me back gently, so I was laid out on the green felt table. “Bring your legs up,” he encouraged, lifting my skirt all the way so my lower half was fully exposed, coolish air wafting over my wet clit. I drew my legs up so my heels also rested on the tabletop.

Liam groaned from his vantage point, but neither he nor Rowe got up to join us. They would have been welcome, but they instinctively seemed to know what I needed.

Heath pressed two fingers to my clit, rolling and rubbing it in time with his thrusts. It was hard and fast, punishing sex that felt so freaking good. The good feelings turned into a storm that matched the one still howling outside. Each push of his hips, each touch of his fingers, had me closer and closer to climax until I was panting with need. “Heath,” I moaned.

As always, he knew exactly what I wanted. He slammed into me, pushing me over the edge with his talents and experience and knowledge of my body.

He never came first. None of them did. It was some unspoken rule the three of them had created, and they stuck to it like it was a law. He made me come, my body squeezing around his and setting off his own orgasm. He kissed me hard, and I swallowed down the noises he made, his cum spilling inside me.

Our bodies clenched and pulsed together, and when my head stopped spinning, I kissed his neck softly, but my words were for the two men standing behind Heath, their gazes trained intently on me. “Take me to bed.”

Heath buttoned his pants again and scooped me up. He strode through the club like he’d done it a hundred times, expertly navigating the sort of secret door and coatroom and carrying me to the back of the hall where our room waited for us.

I didn’t miss the low moans coming from two other rooms, both doors closed.

But then Heath was placing me in the middle of the large bed, clearly made for more than just two people. Rowe and Liam followed us in, eyeing the restraints, and the array of toys in a glass cabinet.

Rowe’s gaze was so hot it seared me. “Did you ask Bliss for this room?”

A blush glowed over my skin. “I might have expressed an interest.”

“Why this room?”

My heart thumped behind my chest. “Because I want us back. The pre-baby us. The four people who tried new things because we couldn’t stand not touching each other.”

“I can’t stand not touching you right now,” he whispered.

“Then touch me.”

He crawled over me, pulling my elastic waist skirt down when I lifted my hips for him. In a second, he had my top off, and then my bra. It had taken him less than a minute to strip me naked, all while he remained fully clothed.

I reached for him, but he caught my wrist, pinning me to the bed. “You asked for this room because you want us to tie you down?”

I squeezed my thighs together and admitted the fantasy I’d been imagining since I’d caught a glimpse of this room on the tour Bliss had given us. “Yes.”

Liam joined Rowe, the two of them pinning my arms above my head and fastening the cuffs around my wrists. Heath moved forward and spread my legs, exposing my weeping pussy. Liam and Rowe locked in my ankles, but Heath stared down between my thighs, swiping the thick cum that seeped from inside me.

“You look so fucking hot, lying there like that, with my cum sliding out of your cunt.” He pushed it back inside me, fingering me again, and starting up that slow orgasm build he was so good at.

He moved aside when Rowe and Liam were done and let them take their turn. Rowe’s hands grazed up and down my body, exploring every curve, stretchmark, and dimple on my post-child body. He always did this, revering every bump and bulge, loving on each one in a way that had made me love them too. This body had carried a baby. Given him life and fed him for months. I had nothing but love for myself, because these men had shown me that this body was desirable, and worthy of their love.

Like he’d read my mind and was determined to prove it, Rowe cupped my breasts. He’d always loved how they overspilled his hands, and now he pushed my breasts together, so he could alternate kisses and licks to each nipple.

Liam moved between my legs, using Heath’s cum to lubricate my clit, before moving lower, fingers pressing between my ass cheeks, touching that spot in between that never failed to take me to some higher place of need. He rubbed his slick fingers over my ass, kissing my inner thighs, and chuckling at the tremble in them. He rimmed my asshole, stretching me, getting me ready for what he knew I wanted.

I ached to touch them. To feel their warm skin and hard muscles beneath my hands. I reached for them, but the cuffs pulled at my wrists, not hurting but tightening pleasurably. “Let me taste you.”

Rowe looked up from my breasts, desire in his eyes. He leaned forward and kissed me, thrusting his tongue into my mouth. I fell into his familiar taste, though it hadn’t been what I meant. So when he pulled away, I stated exactly what I wanted. “Let me suck you.”

He made a sound of approval in the back of his throat as he stood, pulling his T-shirt over his head and dropping it on the floor. I forced my gaze to stay on him, even though need curled through me from what Liam was doing. The urge to throw my head back, close my eyes, and completely give into them was overwhelming.

But I wanted to see him naked. I hadn’t gotten nearly enough of his skin in the last few months. Or the strong, thick erection that sprang free when he lowered his pants. “Come here,” I whispered, voice husky with need. “I need something else to concentrate on before Liam makes me come too quickly.”

Liam grinned around a mouthful of pussy.

Having Rowe’s dick in my mouth was exactly what I needed. He was soft velvet over steel, warm and delicious as he prodded past my lips, moving slowly at first, his knees digging into the mattress beside my head. I stared up at him through my lashes, my eyes hooded with desire.

He reached down and brushed aside a lock of my hair. “Is this what you wanted?”

I nodded and moaned when he started a shallow thrust into my mouth. I ran my tongue along the underside, flicking at the sensitive vein that ran along his cock, and a gush of arousal bloomed between my thighs. He pushed his hand into my hair and took what he needed from me.

He knew me. He knew what he could take and what he couldn’t. We’d done this so many times before, it was practiced and precise, no errors made when we knew each other’s bodies the way the four of us did. Time hadn’t let any of us forget.

Heath moved in behind him, and Rowe groaned at his touch. Heath had gotten himself naked, his dick hard and strong again, this time not for me but for Rowe. “Liam…”

Liam looked up from between my thighs, and instinctively knew what Heath needed.

I moaned when Heath’s fingers found my core, gathering up my arousal, Liam’s saliva, and his own cum. He wrapped one arm around Rowe’s muscled torso, holding him tight to his body while he coated his dick.

Rowe’s dick pulsed inside my mouth when Heath took him from behind. He stilled for a moment, trembling while Heath fucked him slow. But gradually, Heath’s thrusts and grip pushed Rowe in and out of my mouth, the two of us building him up until his abs were flexing and his precum hit my tongue.

I gasped when Liam replaced his mouth with his dick. He moved slowly, entering me inch by delicious inch, until I was physically humming with need for him. The alcohol I’d consumed mixed pleasantly with everything they’d done to my body, all of it going to my head.

Heath picked up his pace, fucking Rowe harder now, his teeth pressed to the meaty part of Rowe’s shoulder in biting kisses that would probably bruise.

Rowe clearly didn’t mind at all. The sounds that left his mouth matched mine, taking the railing because it was what we both wanted. Liam’s dick was hard and perfect, just like the rest of him. He’d left his glasses on, and he was so effortlessly sexy it didn’t seem fair for all of that to be contained in one human being. Everything he did pushed me higher and higher, each thrust taking me closer to that breaking point my body so desperately desired.

He unstrapped my feet with a quick pull of the restraints, and I shouted around Rowe’s cock. Liam lifted my legs, hooking my knees over his forearms to change the angle.

It was everything I hadn’t known I needed. He plowed into me, taking me over the edge in an explosion of fireworks and shouts of ecstasy.

Heath groaned out his release, letting go inside Rowe’s body, and I eagerly took everything Rowe had to give. He came into the back of my throat, cum hot, eyes burning with desire.

Liam was the last to release. His final strokes were sure and strong, throwing me into a third orgasm when he let go of one leg and reached between us for my clit.

I shouted, not caring how loud I was or if the others could hear me. I wanted them to. I wanted the entire freaking world to know that these three men claimed me. My body, it’s bumps and rolls, and stretchmarks included. I wanted to scream from the top of my lungs that they were mine, and always would be, because I was never letting them go.

Liam flopped down on top of me, and Rowe and Heath spooned in against my side. All four of us breathed heavily, our skin sticky with sweat and arousal and cum and none of us caring one bit.

I sighed contentedly, a rush of feeling overcoming me.

I felt like me again.

Mae the woman, not just the mother.

It made me brave. I needed this. More of it.

Hours later, after we’d showered, slept, and the sun had risen on a calm clear morning, when Bliss winked at me and asked if we’d like an invitation to the next party they held, I didn’t hesitate in saying yes.

THE END

This short story included characters from all three Saint View reverse harem trilogies. If you’d like to read more of these characters, start with Lacey, Colt, Banjo, and Rafe’s story in Devious Little Liars.

About the Author

Elle Thorpe is an Australian author, best known for her dirty talking, small town cowboys, and her super smutty dark reverse harems. You can find out more about her, her books, free stuff, and signed paperbacks at www.ellethorpe.com or follow her on social media.

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DESPERATE HOUSEWITCHES

ELLIS LEIGH

CHAPTER ONE

“HE’S COMING TODAY.”

“Who’s coming?”

“Him. Gabby’s him.”

“Ooooh. Gabby’s him.”

The witch who had just remembered my supposed twin flame would be arriving on Wisteria Way slid a glance my way, trying hard to look sly. The other—my mother and the one who wreaked the most havoc on the lane—stared directly at me. The woman didn’t need to be subtle. She’d been forcing the same information on me for weeks.

And I’d had enough of the speculation. “Not every witch gets a twin flame, and even if I am to have one, there’s no proof he would come today, of all days. Not all the way out here to Fairview.”

Because while the Fairview coven’s neighborhood had always been a lovely place to make magic, it certainly wasn’t the tourist center of Port Charlie. That honor was reserved for the pack of wolf shifters in the pine valley—they brought in the travelers.

“But he’ll be your—”

“It’s enough,” I said, trying hard not to snap at my elders. “There’s no reason for him to be here. On Wisteria Way. In Port Charlie. Looking for me—a thirtysomething spinster witch with no social life or time to date. Just…no reason.”

“None of that matters,” my mother said, holding up her perfectly styled head with her chin pointing my way. “I see him arriving today, Gabriella. And I am never wrong.”

Her tone had turned icy, a sign she’d dug in her heels and could not be swayed. I wasn’t about to argue with the woman again. Bree Van de Kampus did not take to her daughters talking back.

“Fine.” I headed for the stock room, irritation making me feel anything but fine. “My twin flame is coming today. Woo-hoo. Everyone, get ready to see the magic.”

I escaped into the back of the store to hide and catch my breath. Running an apothecary had always been my dream, and I’d worked hard to build my business from the ground up. I loved helping my friends and fellow witchy neighbors. But my very nosy mother living at the end of the street and feeling as if she could pop in whenever she wanted to harass me and gossip with the witches of Wisteria Way drove me batty. Especially when the gossip was about me. Not that there was much to gossip about—I went to work, smiled and chatted, went home, and went to bed alone. Nothing exciting had ever happened to me, which meant a twin flame showing up would be a ridiculous concept.

“They’ve picked the wrong Van de Kampus sister.”

“Which of us is the right one?”

I jumped, ready to shoot hexes at the intruder. Mary Alice—sister, best friend, and fellow Wisteria Way shop owner—quickly shut the back door behind her as she crept inside.

“What are you doing here?”

“I saw Mother walk in half an hour ago. I figured you’d be ready to pull your hair out by now.” She gave me an impish grin. “Should I do a gentle banishing spell to get her to leave?”

“She would kill me.”

“That’s why I’ll do it.” She looked past me through the door into the front of the shop. “Go. I’ll do a little spell work to encourage the negative energy to leave and invite the good in. You won’t feel a thing.”

“I doubt that.” Still, I’d had enough of my mother and her friends for a lifetime, especially since she’d started seeing this twin flame coming into my life. From that moment, my days had been filled with gossip and speculation and a lot of impatience from the older witches who, while excited for me, wanted to see a twin flame introduction. Apparently, they could drug the entire town with the power of the love and bring about a neighborhood bliss spell or some such nonsense. I wouldn’t know—we hadn’t had a twin flame joining in my lifetime—but apparently we were about to get one, and I was the lucky witch who would be forever tied to a man I had never met. Wonderful.

The banishment spell hit me right as I stepped into the front of the store. It started as a tingle under my skin, a sudden, uncomfortable sensation urging me to go. I wanted to leave, to run out the front door, to be anywhere but inside.

“Gabby?” My mother watched me cautiously, her brows furrowed in what I could only imagine had to be concern. Her friend looked on as well, watching me in almost excited interest. Wonderful.

“It’s fine,” I said, feeling anything but fine. Fighting the urge to leave turned out to be impossible. I edged past the women in my store, mumbling an apology under my breath and plotting Mary Alice’s demise for after I regained control over my body. A little spell work to make Mother leave, she’d said. She had me almost running out of the store, while my mother stood there, watching me go. Talk about a magical misfire.

“Excuse me. Sorry. Spell gone wrong. Coming through.” I kept apologizing as I practically ran down the center of Wisteria Way, passing fellow witches and random locals from the other enclaves of the area. The witches stepped out of the way with a quickness born of understanding—I wasn’t the first of our kind to be under the spell of someone else. The rest…well… Shifters, vampires, and fae were quite common visitors to Fairview, so they were likely concerned but nonplussed. One did occasionally see other locals on the witch side of town. I had a couple of minotaurs and a mermaid who were occasional customers, and the sirens loved my bath bombs. Certainly they wouldn’t hold my very odd and far too public escape against me. I hoped.

It wasn’t until I reached the bridge connecting Wisteria Way to the rest of Port Charlie that I stopped running. Or rather, that I ran straight into another person and nearly tumbled to the ground along with them.

“I am so sorry,” I said, trying my hardest to regain my footing as a crowd formed around us. “By the gods, this is not how a banishing spell should work.”

Mary Alice appeared at my side, looking winded and pale. “I never cast the banishing spell. Gabby, are you okay?”

“Why does the world smell like cookies?”

Mary Alice’s eyes widened, and her face went pale. “Vanilla.”

The scent of love and connection. Something like dread took hold in my gut, a sensation of weight where none should have been. She had never cast the spell, which meant something else had influenced me. Had made my body react the way it had. I was well warded and protected, thanks to the power of my family magic—no one should have been able to do such a thing. Which meant…

“Oh no.” I shook my head, refusing to look up. Absolutely terrified of what might happen if I did. This was it. The moment of truth. My twin flame stood before me, arms on mine. Holding me in a way that suddenly felt like too much and not enough.

“Are you all right?”

His voice washed over me, the tone warm and soothing. I tried to resist—tried to keep my eyes on his shoes—but there was no use. The gods had chosen for me, and resisting their power was an act of futility. My head moved of its own volition, my eyes sliding up his body as I cringed and tried to inch away.

He ducked to my level, words forming on his thick, pink lips. “Hey. Are you—”

Our eyes met, and reality disappeared. I sank into the light hazel depths that practically swallowed me whole right there at the end of Wisteria Way. I had the briefest impression of silver-streaked hair and a face that showed more age than mine before those eyes devoured me and the scent of warm cookies rose between us. I felt no urge to fight, no need to run. I stood exactly where I wanted to be. Which was with him.

“Hi,” I murmured. “Sorry for running into you like that.”

“It’s no problem whatsoever. You’re…” His smile grew wider, happiness practically radiating from him. “You’re a witch.”

I nodded, wanting so much to wrap myself around him. Needing to touch and feel and listen and absorb the man into my senses. “And you’re…not?”

“No. I’m not. I’m a very boring human in a town filled with not-at-all-boring individuals.”

“Humans are okay.”

“I’m glad you think so.” He glanced at the crowd that had converged around us, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “Uh, any idea why it seems the entirety of Fairfview is gathered here? And why do I smell vanilla everywhere?”

Oh, right. Human. Which meant he didn’t know about twin flames and gods and fate and all that fun stuff. This would be…interesting.

“Well, you see—”

“Gabriella has met her twin flame,” my mother called, making me cringe. Her voice rang out loud and boisterous, having the worst timing in the history of the world. “Let us all welcome this man to our community, to our families. Let us offer them love and protection as only we witches can do.”

A wave of absolute horror washed over me. “I am so sorry about this.”

“About wha—”

But he didn’t get to finish his question before herbs and spices rained down from above. The women encircling us called out in joy, chanting indistinguishable words as each said their personal prayer for happiness while tossing their spells our way. Spells for love, fidelity, and, if I was catching bits and pieces correctly, fertility.

My flame leaned closer, speaking directly into my ear, and sending chills down my spine. “What is happening here?”

There was no way to explain. Not in the chaos of a witchy community building themselves up to a fervor of love. I shook my head, thinking fast.

“Will you come with me to my shop? It might be easier to talk there.”

“Of course, Gabriella.”

“Just…Gabby.”

“Gabby. I’m Callum.”

“Well, Callum, we may need to be a little pushy with these ladies.” I reached for his hand, ready to lead him through the crowd, but froze when we touched. A pulse of pink radiated outward from our point of connection, practically pushing the witches back. They all gasped as the aura passed over them. The energy around us increased, the feeling of joy and happiness and warmth building until it finally exploded. Until it crested and brought a sensation of pleasure unlike any I had ever experienced. The witches cried out in bliss, some beginning to strip off their clothes as if they were about to dance under the full moon. Some grabbing their partners and spouses, coming together for deep, intimate kisses right there in the crowd of people. An orgy was likely to break out on Wisteria Way. One my human twin flame didn’t need to witness.

“Come,” I said, dragging Callum behind me. “We need to hurry.”

My mother appeared at my side, guiding us through the crowd. “Run home, my love. You two have set off something we haven’t seen in generations.” She giggled, spinning in a circle and waving a red ribbon in the vanilla-scented air. “The town council is going to be furious with us.”

She laughed harder, obviously enjoying the chaos and the overall sense of love hovering. Pink dust danced in the air, and what could only be the fae hung sparkle lights in the big oak trees that lined Wisteria Way as the scent of vanilla enveloped the neighborhood. The entire enclave looked magical and alive…but I wanted quiet. I wanted calm and intimate. I wanted to be alone with my twin flame.

I tightened my grip on Callum’s hand, and we ran.

CHAPTER TWO

“WHAT IS THIS PLACE?”

I closed the door behind me, leaning against the glass-and-wood panel as Callum walked into my shop. “It’s my business. I own this apothecary.”

He turned, giving me a smile that made my knees go weak. “You sell…herbal remedies?”

“Mostly. Some of the local witches buy supplies from me, some buy tinctures and salves because they don’t want to make them or don’t have the time. And then the rest of Port Charlie…well, some like to come and feel exotic by buying from a local witch. Some have specific health issues I can help with. And some like to eat the herbs.”

He laughed, the sound warm and inviting as it filled the space around us. The apothecary sat mostly in shadows, the slowly setting sun leaving a single golden trail of light in the middle of the floor space. Callum made his way around the shop, looking over every shelf and table. I had always been confident in my work, always been confident that my apothecary was the best around, but his casual perusal had me wringing my hands and worrying my lip.

“It’s gorgeous,” he finally said, releasing me from my anxiety. “Seriously, this is impressive.”

“As are you.” I pushed off the door, letting the desire to be close to him rule my actions. Letting the pink haze that had followed us inside give me the confidence to act.

“What is this feeling, Gabby?” Callum asked, closing the distance between us. Both of us under the spell of our connection. I wanted so much from him, especially in that moment, but he had to know. To understand. I needed him to fully grasp what was happening, because otherwise, he wouldn’t truly be able to consent.

“Have you ever heard of a twin flame?”

He frowned, his hands finding their way to my hips. Pulling me in tighter against him. “Maybe. Tell me about it.”

“It’s sort of like…soul mates.” I pressed myself against him, unable to resist. “But for witches.”

He moaned a response, the sound making me shiver. As did him leaning over me and nuzzling into my neck. My head dropped back, my mouth falling open as he laid a soft, warm kiss against my collarbone.

“We’re like…fated to be together?”

“Sort of,” I mumbled, trying to keep my brain on track while his lips and hands began moving in wicked ways over my body. “More that we are each other’s perfect matches. Two halves of the same soul.”

“Does that mean we would be happy together?”

“Blissfully.”

“Interesting.” He tugged me all the way against him, hands sliding to my thighs before he picked me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist on instinct, every part of me in contact with every part of him.

I was about to kiss him, my lips mere millimeters from his, when the pink haze swirled and the sound of women laughing and cheering broke in to our bubble.

“Oh, frog’s toes.”

Callum pulled away, turning along with me to look out the front window. “What’s happening out there?”

“There hasn’t been a twin flame joining in decades. Apparently, the souls welcoming each other home gives off this…” I waved at all the pink floating around us. “It makes witches happy.”

“So we basically got them high on love?”

“Pretty much.”

“And is that why I can’t seem to take a single step away from you?”

“Yeah.” I sighed and leaned into him, resting my forehead against his chest. “It’s the connection. We can ignore it if you—”

“Is that what you want?”

I shook my head. Callum didn’t let me get away with hiding, though. He put a finger under my chin and forced me to look up at him. To meet his gaze.

“What’s holding you back?”

I sighed. “We don’t know each other. And you’re human, so all this witchy stuff is new to you. And the magic surrounding us is influencing decisions you might not make normally.”

Callum carried me to the counter, turning his back on the parade of witches outside, and set me down before leaning back just enough to look me in the eye.

“My name is Callum. My grandmother and mother were witches, though they each died when I was young. I grew up with stories about the magic they brought and with my aunts performing magic around me, so none of this is new to me. More than I’m used to, but not new. I’m forty-eight, and I’ve never been married. I work as an independent financial consultant, mostly with small businesses and individuals who need a little guidance on the basics of building wealth. And if I had crossed your path on the street without this twin flame connection, I would have stumbled all over myself to talk to you and get your number. I would have begged and pleaded with every deity I could come up with for you to give this old man a shot. Your turn.”

I took a deep breath, fighting back a smile. “I’m Gabby. I’m thirty-five. Never been married or even close to it. This store is my life, this enclave of witches is my home, and I have no interest in leaving any of it. I have six nieces, which means I also have no interest in having kids of my own. I’m fine with your age if you’re fine with mine. And had you walked into my store today, I would have absolutely been hitting on you, even without the twin flame connection. You’re…very handsome.”

“Perfect. Now that we’ve got that out of the way…” Callum leaned in, surrounding me with his scent. Making the room spin and turn pink with the force of our connection. He stopped before he touched my lips, his breath washing over my face as he whispered, “May I kiss you?”

I was a sucker for a man who asked permission, so I breathed a yes. His lips met mine, warm and soft and gentle at first. I would have called the kiss timid, but Callum grabbed my hips and tugged me to the end of the counter, clutching at my thighs before diving in for more. For deeper. There was nothing timid about the kiss—the man seemed to like to give me a chance to say no. A fact I appreciated, even if no wasn’t going to happen.

Outside, the roar of the witches lining the street grew louder, and the pink haze and scent of vanilla on the air grew stronger. I didn’t care—Callum and I had a connection. One I wanted to explore. Unfortunately, the witches outside distracted Callum. He broke away from the kiss to turn and look toward the front windows as a cheer erupted.

I ran my hand down the side of his face until his gaze returned to mine, giving him a soft smile. “It’s the twin flame energy. They’ll be basking in it all night.”

“What would they do if we just…left?”

I sat back, frowning. “Left the island?”

“Well, yes. If we went somewhere so we could be alone.”

“They would be very unhappy with me. This sort of event is a rare gift. It’s to be honored and celebrated, not hidden away.”

He nodded, leaning in to kiss me again, his hand finding its way up my skirt to squeeze my hip. “Then we stay. But I wouldn’t mind some privacy. Is that fair?”

“Very.” I grabbed his hand from my hip and tugged it out from under my dress. “Come with me.”

Callum followed without question, walking through the stock room and into the alley. I led him around the side of the building to the stairs and began to climb. He moved his hands to my hips, a low moan rumbling through the night.

“You’re pure temptation,” he said as we reached the landing at the top. He crowded me, kissing my neck and wrapping me in his arms to pull my back against his chest. The pink haze followed us along the white stairs, and the smell of vanilla hung thick on the air, pure magic surrounding us.

“Come.” I opened the door to my apartment over the store. “We can have privacy in here.”

Callum dropped his hands from my body and walked past me, seemingly enthralled with the interior of my private space. Bottles and jars lined my floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and mini altars decorated a few flat surfaces around the living room. Crystals sat on every windowsill, charging in the moonlight, and spell jars sparkled in the low light from their hiding places among the many plants. Dark walls, darker floors, and heavy furnishings decorated the space, making it a place of comfort and security. It was my second favorite place on earth, and if Callum didn’t like it, I had no idea—

“It’s gorgeous,” he said, interrupting my thoughts. “Your shop is so bright and airy—this is the perfect counterpoint to that.”

“I didn’t want my home to feel like where I work, even though I love them both so much.”

“Understandable.” He grabbed my hand, tugging me toward him. Keeping his eyes locked on mine, likely looking for any sign of hesitancy. For the consent he seemed so keen to secure. His lips met mine in another scorching kiss as his hands explored my curves, and the energy between us grew louder and brighter. Hotter. From pink to red, the vanilla deepening like caramel on the stove. Sweetness growing richer.

“My bedroom is in the back,” I whispered when he broke away to kiss a line down my neck. Without hesitation, Callum grabbed me and picked me up. I held on as he strode down the hallway. No question, no need for clarity. No wondering if he should or not. The man carried me straight into my bedroom and laid me gently on my bed, covering me with his body as I spread my legs around him and returning for another kiss. A deeper one that had me writhing underneath him. Needing more.

“Can I…” His question faded, his thought incomplete. He had the bottom of my dress in his hand, though. Slowly tugging the hem up my legs. Exposing more and more of my skin to his heated gaze. I bent my knee to allow the fabric to rise higher, giving him a smile when his eyes met mine.

“Yes.”

A simple answer to a question not quite asked. He nodded and dove in for a kiss before rising onto his knees between my legs and sliding his hands under my dress. With a little help from me and a few laughs, he tugged the fabric over my head and tossed it to the floor, sitting back to stare down at me. I knew what he had to be seeing—simple white lace bra and panties over golden skin, my dark hair splayed out across the dark green bedding. I had no qualms about my figure—I knew I had ample curves and a softness that wasn’t as appreciated on movie screens as it was in intimate situations like these. I was a soft woman, a witch who loved her tea and cookies, and I refused to apologize for that. In fact, I felt it should be celebrated. Thankfully, it seemed Callum felt the same.

“You’re so sexy.” He fell over my chest, tugging my bra cup down so he could lick and suck on my nipple. Making me arch into him and sigh. “Is this okay? Can I take this off?”

“Yes, please.” I rolled slightly to help him, even reaching down to remove my panties once the bra had gone the way of the dress. I lay naked beneath him, needing so much more connection. Wanting to feel his heat against me. “Take yours off.”

Callum took direction well. He rose back onto his knees to yank his shirt off, tugging the back of the neckline over his head in the way men did. He then rose to slip out of his pants, ending up naked before me. We made quite the picture in that moment—me, naked and lying on a bed of green velvet, while he stood at the end, his body on display in the same way. And it was a fantastic body. More dad bod than chiseled, more a sign of enjoying life than living at the gym. And him. Hard and thick, jutting up in an arc that made my toes curl. Everything about the man appealed to me, especially the fire burning in his eyes as he looked me over.

With gentle hands and more restraint than I could even contemplate, he grabbed my calf and lifted my leg so my ankle sat on his shoulder, turning his head to kiss down to my knee. He slid a hand down my leg, squeezing my thigh all the way up. His knuckles brushing against where I sat ready and wet for him. Where I wanted so much more attention.

“Is this okay?”

By the goddess. I sighed and reached for him, dragging his hand the rest of the way to my pussy. Using my own fingers to guide his for a moment and sighing when he took over for me.

“It’s all okay. Everything. Whatever you want to do to me. I’ll let you know if it’s not.”

He smiled, eyes darting from where he had slipped a finger inside me to my eyes. Obviously wanting more but still watching me. Looking for hesitancy where he would see none.

“I swear,” I said. I twisted enough to reach him, running my fingers up the length of him to the head. Slipping my thumb through the precome before bringing my hand back to my mouth and sucking the salty flavor off. “You don’t need to worry—I want this as much as you do.”

His lips turned up into a wicked smile, a second finger joining the first. “Good. Because this pussy is soaking wet and ready for me. I gotta have a taste.”

Without warning, he removed his hand from inside me and grabbed my hips, tugging me down the mattress until I nearly hung over the edge. Before I could even take a breath, he dropped to his knees and dove in, his tongue meeting my clit and getting to work. I dug my fingers into his hair and arched, my mouth falling open as I closed my eyes and hung on. As I surrendered to the pleasure he brought me.

“So good,” he murmured against my skin, sucking on me in a way that sent a sharp note of delicious pain up through my abdomen.

I couldn’t hold my tongue. “Callum. Please. I need more.”

“I’ve got you, my witch. I’ll make your pretty pussy sing before I’m done.”

And I had no doubt he meant what he said. That hand returned, those two fingers slipping back inside me. The sounds of his mouth working me over and his fingers plunging in and out of me filled the room, the thick vanilla scent building around us. Soft velvet contrasted with the slightly rough feel of his body against mine, the hair on his face and along his chest adding a texture to our play that awakened my senses even more.

I came quickly, my thighs squeezing his head as pleasure rippled through me. Callum didn’t stop, though. He moved us up the bed, still lapping at me. Still twisting and working those fingers to drag out my orgasm. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t focus on any one sensation. All I could do was ride the wave and clutch at his shoulders, wanting him to fill me. To cover me. Wanting more and more even as he gave me so much. I was a greedy witch, but thankfully, he seemed to like that.

“Your pussy just sucks me in,” he said, giving said pussy one final kiss before gliding up the length of my body. Kissing me from hip to stomach to ribs to breast. Stopping there to lick and suckle. To use his wet fingers to pinch my nipple as I arched higher. To spoil me with so much teasing and attention. “I bet it’ll do the same to my cock. You’re going to unman me in seconds, my sexy witch.”

“That’s fine,” I whispered, my eyes meeting his as I reached for him. “We’ve got all night to get this right.”

He leered up at me, eyes holding mine as he opened his mouth around my nipple and bit down. The slight spark of pain ignited something inside me, making my hips dance below him until he popped off. “Oh, there’s no need to worry on that front. I’ll get it right. Right enough to make you mine forever.”

He finished his trek up my body, sucking on my collarbone and neck. Coming back to drop a deep, soul-searing kiss on my lips. The pressure around us grew, the pink haze turning magenta as his body covered mine. As he reached down to grab my ass and angle my hips just so. As he brushed his knuckles against my clit while guiding his cock to my entrance. And when he thrust inside, when he finally filled me, I dropped my head back and sighed, my call to the universe a moan of pleasure impossible to contain. The cheers from outside grew louder as if the witches below could hear me. As if they knew. The sound rose quickly, breaking in to our private space. Callum didn’t stop moving, though. He simply smiled down at me as he worked himself inside, sighing when he sat deep within me. Pausing even as I clawed at his back.

“You were made for me. Your pussy is fucking perfect.” He pulled out slowly, groaning as he slid almost all the way to the entrance of my pussy before thrusting back inside. Hitting all the right places to make me mewl and writhe and want. “You’re mine, Gabby. All mine. Forever.”

And I would be. Twin flame or not, Callum and I would be together for the rest of our lives. I didn’t need a strong intuition to know that.

“Forever,” I whispered, calling out our fate with intention. Matching my movements to his so we could come together. So we could seal our connection.

So the Fairview witches of Port Charlie could have a twin flame in their coven for the first time in decades. Such a gift to the witches. Such a gift to me.

Port Charlie is a magical town filled with creatures of all varieties who believe healthcare should be left to the professionals and not the politicians or clergy. While DESPERATE HOUSEWITCHES is the only story based in Port Charlie, you can find plenty of works available from other series. If you like steamy, funny, paranormal romance, try CANDIED WOLF, the first in Ellis’ Kinship Cove series of paranormal romcoms.

About the Author

A storyteller from the time she could talk, USA Today bestselling author Ellis Leigh grew up among family legends of hauntings, psychics, and love spanning decades. Those stories didn’t always have the happiest of endings, so they inspired her to write about real life, real love, and the difficulties therein. From farmers to werewolves, store clerks to witches—if there’s love to be found, she’ll write about it. Ellis lives in the Chicago area with her husband, daughters, and a German Shepherd that refuses to leave her side.

Ellis can also be found writing tropey, erotic shorts with her bestie Brighton Walsh as London Hale, slipping into the contemporary world as Kristin Harte, or taking her signature style into the mystery realm as Millie Thorne.

DUST AND ROSES

EMILY COLIN

RAE

“IT WAS A DARK AND STORMY NIGHT,” my father intones.

Groaning, my stepmom, Abby, and I pelt him with packs of miniature candy. He catches a Hershey bar before it hits him in th45e face and rips it open, grinning at us.

It’s Halloween in Kill Devil Hills, the Outer Banks beach town where we live. Some people say the town’s named for rum that was strong enough to “kill the devil.” Others claim that a greedy banker summoned Lucifer and trapped him in some sand dunes. The most prosaic story I’ve heard is that the name is a take on the local killdeer bird. Whatever the case, on Halloween, Kill Devil Hills comes into its own.

My parents and I have a ritual: wait for trick-or-treaters to show up at their house, while we drink margaritas and compete to see who can tell the best ghost story. At twenty-seven, I’ve got an apartment of my own, and maybe I should be out partying, like my best friend Kate. But what can I say? I’m a sucker for tradition, and Paranormal Margarita Night is a big one…even if the usual grand slam winner is conspicuously absent for the first time.

You don’t want him here, I tell myself. You’re better off. Maybe if I say it enough, I’ll start to believe it.

My dad shoves the entire Hershey bar in his mouth, earning a disapproving glare from Abby and an eye roll from me. “Like I said, the weather was less than optimal,” he goes on through a mouthful of chocolate. “And the beautiful Ellery vanished from a party at her family’s estate. Some say she rode into a swamp after a lover’s quarrel, and drowned in the freezing water. Others say she went out riding, and her horse was found abandoned, wandering the road where she’d last been seen. Either way, they buried her in the Drummond Cemetery, deep in Nags Head Woods.”

He turns to look at me, the firelight transforming his craggy, cheerful face into an ominous visage. His voice drops to a low rumble. “But she didn’t stay there.”

Despite myself, I shudder, and my dad chuckles. My whole family knows I’m a wuss when it comes to scary stuff. My stepbrother, Alex, used to hide behind doors and jump out at me all the time, then laugh his ass off when I shrieked and ran. It annoyed the crap out of me…though where Alex and I are concerned, that’s the least of our issues.

I grab a couple mini-packs of Reese’s Pieces off the living room carpet and drop them into the skeleton-patterned bowl we always use for trick-or-treaters, willing myself not to think about Alex. He’s not here, after all. And if he was, we’d probably be fighting, ignoring each other, or…

It’s the or that’s the problem. And I really, really don’t want to think about that.

My phone saves me, chiming the theme song to Friends in the middle of my father’s tale about how Ellery showed up the very next night, claiming to anyone who’d listen that she’d been buried alive. I know that’s the most cheesy, overdone ghost storyline imaginable, but it still creeps me out.

Raising a finger for my dad to press pause on Ellery’s tale of woe, I grab my phone. “Hey, Kate,” I say, walking out of the living room and onto the back deck, which overlooks the ocean. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t sometimes come here for the view.

“Rae!” She has to shout over an impressive amount of background noise. “I’m at The Jolly Roger for the costume contest. Come out and hang with us! I wanna introduce you to someone!”

I’ve had two of Abby’s famous margaritas, and I’ve got a nice buzz going. But Kate’s on another level entirely. She sounds so happy, it makes me grin—even though crowded bars aren’t my thing. “I’m good,” I tell her. “But thanks.”

“Oh, you are not! You’re sitting at home, freaking out about your dad’s stupid stories, being a sad drunk, and thinking about Allllexxxx.” She draws out his name. “And I bet anything you went to a psychic again today. Didn’t you?”

I trace a nervous figure-eight on the railing, biting my lip. “So what if I did?”

“Rae!” Drunk Kate has morphed into Bossy Kate. “We talked about this. Don’t waste any more money on that shit. They’re all liars and frauds, out to tell you what you wanna believe. It’s been twenty-five years. If you ever find out what happened to your mom, it’s not gonna be from one of them.”

She’s probably right, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying. I mean, nothing else has worked. So why not this? Everyone says that Halloween is when the veil between the living and the dead is the thinnest. It doesn’t matter how much ghost stories terrify me. If my mom’s on the other side, trying to communicate with me, I’m not ever going to give up reaching out.

My dad had her declared dead long ago. He married Abby. And if he had any idea how much money I’d dumped into paying psychics to find Mom over the years, he’d have a conniption. Only two people know about my little habit: Kate and Alex, who only found out because he caught me coming out of Madame Sylvia’s one Halloween in our junior year of high school. I expected him to tease me until the end of time, but he was surprisingly kind. He took one look at my tear-streaked face, bought me ice cream, and drove me to the beach, where we sat and talked until I was ready to go home. Alex is usually as sarcastic as they come, but he didn’t make fun of me that day. Not once.

Every year, I find a different psychic to visit. It’s as much a tradition as Paranormal Margarita Night. Kate knows I have no intention of giving it up, so I just say, “You party your way, I’ll party mine. Go have fun, okay? I want to hear all about it tomorrow.”

“Rachel Tess Brautigan, don’t you dare hang up!” she howls at such volume, I have to hold the phone away from my ear. “I found a guy for you. A very-much-not-Alex guy. And you have to come here and meet him before it’s too late.”

I knock my head against the split-shake siding, so hard it hurts. Kate is always trying to set me up with someone, even though I’ve told her that between my work as a graphic designer and the painting business I’m trying to start on the side, that’s the absolute last thing I have time for. “Who is it now?”

“His name is Jonas!” she shrieks, as if overcome with joy.

“And is he standing right there?”

“Nooooo,” she drawls. “He’s at the bar, silly. With Eduardo. They’re playing Star Wars trivia because they are nerds.”

“What a stellar recommendation.”

“I love nerds! Nerds are the best!” she says. “And Jonas is a priest. Or he was, I guess. Something happened, and now he’s not. But he plays the cello. And he’s nice. And cute. And we had a naked race on the beach!”

You’ve got to be kidding. “I’m hanging up now, Kate.”

“No! Don’t hang up! I love you, Rae. And you hafta come down here and meet Jonas. I’m telling you, he’s awe—”

Before she can finish that sentence, I disconnect the call. My phone rings again immediately, but I don’t answer. Kate’s tried to set me up with more guys than I can count on both hands, but a former priest-turned-nudist is a new one. I can’t wait to give her crap about it tomorrow…or to get the real scoop from Eduardo, her boyfriend, whose self-appointed job in life is to keep Kate on an even keel.

My phone buzzes again, this time with a text. STOP THINKING ABOUT HIM, it reads in shouty capitals. LET IT GOOOOOOO. Beneath that is a gif of a pole-dancing, scantily-clad Elsa.

I should never have told Kate about the…thing Alex and I have had going since we were teenagers. It’s not as freaky as it sounds. We met before our parents did. And we’ve never actually dated. I don’t know what the hell we are, except to say that we have crazy chemistry, but every time we’ve kissed, Alex has let go of me like I’m dipped in poison and then run away…literally. Right now, for instance, he’s in Antarctica.

I swear to God I’ve tried to move on. I’ve dated other people, though never for long. But I never feel half of what I’ve felt the few times Alex has had his hands on me. And I could swear he feels the same, except for the way he ghosts me every time we’ve crossed the line…no pun intended. I should return the favor, but I have feelings for him with a capital F. It’s annoying, and stupid, and—

My pity party’s interrupted by the doorbell. “Rae!” Abby hollers from inside. “Would you mind getting the door? There’s something going on with the blender, and your dad—” The rest of what she has to say is cut off by a whir of metallic blades, followed by a flurry of creative expletives.

“Sure,” I yell back, happy to have something to distract me from what’s increasingly becoming a blue mood. Walking back into the house, I smooth the front of my semi-witchy black velvet dress, grab the bowl of candy, and yank the front door open, ready to greet our first costumed guests of the evening.

And then I freeze.

On the porch is Alex, wearing jeans and a blue t-shirt, his black hair tumbling into his eyes and his backpack slung over one shoulder. He grins at me, but his smile trembles a little around the edges, as if he’s not sure if he’s wanted.

“Trick or treat,” he says.

ALEX

RAE GAPES at me like she thinks I’m some kind of hallucination, and I do my best not to stare right back. She’s sexy as hell in that black velvet dress, which clings to all of her curves. But she isn’t mine. She can’t be.

It doesn’t matter what I want. What I could swear sometimes she wants, too. Rae is a good person. My messed-up shit is the last thing she needs.

I just wish I could explain it, in a way she’d understand. But that’s off the table. And I don’t blame her for hating me.

“What are you doing here?” she says, breaking the silence. “Why aren’t you in Antarctica, filming penguins?”

I give her my best charming smile. “What, and miss Paranormal Margarita Night? I gotta hold onto my championship title.”

“You expect me to believe that you flew here from the most remote place on the planet for Paranormal Margarita Night.” Her gorgeous brown eyes are wide.

“We wrapped early,” I say with a shrug. Which is the truth, as far as it goes. “So here I am. But I’m getting the distinct impression you’re not happy to see me.”

“I—” she begins, just as I hear my mother’s voice behind her.

“What are you doing, Rae?” she says. “Giving out all the candy to our first customer? Because if—oh. Alex!”

I’ve been gone for three months, but my mother doesn’t hug me. She never does, and for good reason. I know better than to hug her, either. Rae’s dad, Birch, took to calling me The Cat long ago. He said I come around when I please, and God forbid anyone tries to touch me. I laughed, but it wasn’t fucking funny. If he knew why that was, he probably wouldn’t want me in his house. My mother only tolerates me because we both pretend that I’m not who and what I am.

Who knows what Rae would think. She freaks out when someone yells ‘boo’ and covered her eyes during half of Scream 2, which is basically a comedy. Better for her to be mad at me for all the wrong reasons than to know the truth and run screaming.

“Hi, Mom,” I say, turning my smile up to maximum wattage. “Can I come in?”

RAE

IF I REALLY BELIEVED IN things that went bump in the night, I’d think I summoned Alex. Or maybe Kate did. She’s the one who sent me the pole-dancing Elsa gif.

He slid right into Paranormal Margarita Night like he’d never been gone, handing out candy to a record number of trick-or-treaters with his trademark growly voice, whipping up an extra batch of drinks, and then, as the fire burned low, launching into a story about how the place where his crew stayed to film a documentary in Bali last year was haunted. “Every night,” he says, “as soon as I lay down to go to sleep, I heard strange noises coming from the second floor. Like someone was up there, dragging something heavy. But as soon as I’d stand up to investigate, the noises would stop.”

I shiver, and across the room, he catches my eye, lifts his glass in acknowledgment, and grins. Bastard, I think, and rub my arms to chase the chills away.

He takes a bite of the peanut butter cup he snaked from the candy bowl. “I figured maybe it was a rat,” he goes on. “Several really big rats. So I grabbed the heaviest thing I could find and started climbing up the ladder to the loft, which was kind of half-built. And that’s when I heard it.”

Just as he pauses for effect, a log splits and cracks in the fireplace, and I jump, spilling my margarita. Abby hands me a napkin, and I dab at my lap. When I look up, Alex is staring at me. Unsettled, I look away—but even with my gaze fixed on the leaping flames of the fire, I can still feel him, like it’s his hands on me instead of just the weight of his clear green eyes.

Well, two can play at this game. Emboldened by tequila, I sit back on the couch, curl my legs under me, and shift so that my dress clings to my body, outlining every curve. Then I reach for my margarita glass, make sure neither of our parents are looking, and, very delicately, lick the salt from the rim.

Alex’s eyes widen, and he fidgets on the loveseat, crossing his legs. Innocently, I set the glass back on the table, gratified when his eyes shift away from mine.

Oblivious to our little byplay, Abby says, “What did you hear?” and nibbles her fingernails in exaggerated curiosity. My dad smiles at her, like she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. I wonder if he was that way with my mother. I wish I could remember, but I don’t recall anything about her other than her perfume. It smelled like roses.

“Well,” Alex says, clearing his throat, “that’s the creepy part. Kids’ voices, whispering. They sounded terrified.”

He turns his head to look at me again, a slow smile lifting his lips. “Should I go on, Rae? Or is this too much?”

“Go ahead,” I say, a challenge. “I’m fine.”

“Uh huh. Anyway, I got up to the loft and it was empty. The noises stopped. No kids. No rats. Nothing that could’ve made the sounds I heard. But…” He pauses, looking between each of us. “The next day, I talked to some of the locals, and they said that loft had caught fire a few months before. That’s why it was only half-built. There were children trapped up there. And all of them were killed.”

Silence follows this pronouncement, broken only by the loud sputter of a log in the fireplace. Then my dad lets out a long, slow whistle. “Jesus, Alex,” he says, and downs the rest of his margarita. “That’ll give Rae nightmares, for sure.”

“It will not,” I protest, but we all know better.

“So,” Alex says, stretching like the cat my dad nicknamed him for, “do I get to keep my title?”

I try not to look at the way his biceps bulge when he reaches his arms above his head, or the golden-brown expanse of skin that’s revealed when his t-shirt rides up. But it’s hard to help myself. Having him show up unexpectedly like this is no good. Nor is being around him when I’ve been drinking. Both make me want to throw caution to the wind.

The doorbell rings again, and my dad gets to his feet. When he comes back from giving Eleven and Mike from Stranger Things the last of the Snickers, he says, “Abby, want to run down to Publix with me and get some more candy? The kids can stay here and hold down the fort.”

Oh, no. No, no, no. I do not want to be alone with Mr. Mixed Signals. “I’ll go,” I offer, getting to my feet and almost tripping over the ottoman in my haste. Or maybe I should blame the tequila.

My dad looks me up and down. “I don’t think so, sweetie. Abby, you up for it?”

“Sure,” she says, grabbing her purse from the hook behind the front door. Even in my semi-inebriated state, I can’t help but think how it’s weird that she wasn’t more excited to see Alex—although the two of them aren’t close. There’s a distance between them that I’ve never understood. Maybe it has something to do with Alex’s dad, who might as well not exist. Alex has no idea who he is, nor does he have any desire to find out. Unlike me, who would do anything to discover what happened to my mom.

The door slams shut behind them, and then it’s just me and Alex, alone together. I can’t remember the last time that happened. My heart pounds, fast and furious as a trapped bird’s.

I spare a glance in his direction. He’s sprawled on the loveseat, fingers linked behind his head and eyes half-lidded. When he sees me watching, his lips curl up in a half-smile.

I cannot with that smile. It does terrible things to me. Nervously, I edge from the room. “I’m going to get some food,” I babble. “To counteract all the candy we’ve eaten. Abby made enchiladas, before. Are you hungry?”

He hoists himself to his feet and prowls into the kitchen after me. “You just don’t want to be alone, after my scary story.”

“Was it true?” I ask, opening the refrigerator. Every shelf is choked with organic goodness, from dill-and-garlic goat cheese to the carcasses of two humanely—and locally—slaughtered chickens.

He shrugs. “Of course it was. All the best stories are.”

The man has the best poker face I’ve ever seen. I can’t tell if he’s serious. Deciding to ignore him, I locate the enchiladas and pull them out, setting the dish in the microwave to revolve. The delectable smell of melted cheese and tangy sauce fills the kitchen as I boost myself onto the counter, waiting for them to finish.

Alex comes to stand in front of me. I add the way my skin tingles every time he’s near me to the list of stuff I’m choosing to ignore. “So,” he says, neatly changing the subject, “how was the psychic today?”

I shoot him a wary glance, but he doesn’t seem to be mocking me. “Pointless, as usual. I don’t know why I bother. Maybe it’s some kind of addiction.”

He shakes his head. “No. You want to find Meg, and you don’t give up. It’s one of the things I love most about you.” His voice catches on the word, as if he didn’t mean to say it. “You have faith that something beyond this world exists. That’s the same reason you’re scared of ghost stories, I think. Because they might be real.”

Hearing him say my mother’s name is weird; no one else does, except my dad. Beyond that, I try not to dwell on the fact that he said love. Saying you love a quality about a person isn’t the same thing as saying you love them, after all. “And you don’t?” I ask him. “Have faith, I mean.”

He shakes his head again. “I’m more cynical than that, I guess. But the fact that you aren’t…it gives me hope.”

This close, I can see the dark circles under his green eyes, a small scratch high on his left cheekbone, above the line of dark stubble that I know represents at least three days without shaving. Before I think better of it, I reach out to touch his face. “You haven’t been sleeping,” I say.

“What else is new?” He strokes my hair, letting his fingers linger for a second. “I’ve missed you.” His voice is low. “I always forget…well, never mind.”

“Don’t do that,” I say. Suddenly it seems like the most important thing in the world that we be honest with each other. We’re here, together. We’re alone. When will we get another chance like this? “What were you going to say?”

He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans as the microwave dings. Neither of us move to retrieve the enchiladas. “Nothing, Rae. Not a damn thing.”

For every inch he gives, it feels like he retreats eight miles. “You’re such a liar, Alex.”

“Maybe so. But you don’t have to know everything I’m thinking. You know me too well as it is.”

“Really?” I say, leaning back against the cabinets. “Because I could swear I don’t know you one bit.”

He shifts his weight, looking uncomfortable. “There’s a reason for that.”

The tequila has stripped me of my tact. Or maybe I’m just tired of his hot-and-cold routine. “Fuck you,” I say, and shove him.

I expect him to laugh it off. But instead he says, “Anytime,” grinning wider. He steps in closer, touches a corner of my mouth with his index finger. “Chocolate,” he says, raising the finger to his mouth and licking it clean.

“You’re drunk,” I accuse him.

“So are you.” He runs the finger that was in his mouth down the side of my face until it traces my lips. I bite him, because really, are we going to do this again? It never ends well. I should learn from my mistakes.

“Ow,” he says, and then he’s kissing me. His hands clench the velvet fabric at the small of my back, pulling me against him, moving lower. “Rae,” he says, and his voice scrapes bottom.

He steps between my legs, pressing against me with an eagerness that spurs my own. I can feel his heartbeat, pounding in rapid cadence with mine. Through my margarita-induced haze I wonder what, exactly, we are doing. Then I decide I don’t care; whatever it is, whatever complications might ensue, there’s nothing I want more. I run my hands under his shirt, and he grips my hips, tugging me against him. His fingers tangle in my hair, and he says my name again, urgency and wonder clear in that single syllable. There’s such unguarded happiness in his voice, I can’t help but smile.

With diabolical timing, the doorbell rings, heralding the arrival of more trick-or-treaters, and Alex freezes. His eyes are wide and dazed. “Should we—”

“Don’t you dare,” I say, and grip the front of his t-shirt, pulling him down to me.

When he traces my lips again with his index finger, this time I open to him. I touch my tongue to his skin, taste chocolate, peanut butter, and salt, from the margaritas. It’s an intoxicating blend, made more so by his sudden intake of breath and the way his fingers tighten in my hair.

His free hand drifts lower, cupping my breasts, and heat floods me. We have never gone so far. Maybe I’m hallucinating, I think as he finds his way beneath my dress. Maybe I fell asleep on the couch, and this is some kind of vivid dream.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all night,” he says, his lips warm against my ear.

“Really?” I say in surprise, and he laughs, a husky chuckle.

“What do you think? I’ve been obsessing over it since you opened the door.” His fingers trail up my thigh, and I make a low, inarticulate sound. “Then again, I always want to do this,” he says, and then he’s kissing me again. His mouth is hungry, demanding. I kiss him back the same way, and he fits his hips to mine.

I know we should stop this, I know my dad and Abby could come back at any moment, but instead I knot my fingers in his unruly hair and whisper his name. He lifts his head and looks at me. His expression is fierce and lost, all at the same time. His eyes look odd—the irises have narrowed to a thin rim of green, like a cat’s in a dark room. “Tell me what you want,” he says, his hands all over me and his voice hoarse, his face an inch from mine.

That’s when it happens. An image rises in my mind, as clear as the kitchen itself—a darkened bedroom, the sheets crumpled, a form huddled beneath the quilt. The sight is somehow familiar, but I can’t think where I’ve seen it before, much less why it should come to me now. The longer it lingers, the more detailed it becomes. I can see the folds of the sheets, the spill of a woman’s hair. I can smell the air, stale and unmoving but tinted with the scent of roses. And I can hear other people in the room, talking, though I can’t make out the words. Fear rises in me, along with an overwhelming sense of loss.

“What the—” is all I manage to get out.

Then Alex’s touch is gone, and the image vanishes, like he’s stolen it away.

ALEX

I TAKE A DEEP BREATH, trying to steady myself, and step away from Rae.

This ought to help, but now I can see her, her dress rucked up around her waist, that gorgeous dark hair spilling everywhere, color burning high in her face. I want her, the Seeing Thing and our parents be damned.

But this—what just happened—is exactly why I can’t have her.

I close my eyes and tug her dress down, so it covers her. I’m not trying to be funny, but when I open my eyes again, she is smiling at me. It’s such a trusting, open smile, and guilt sweeps through me, for all the things she doesn’t know, all the things I haven’t said. “God,” I say, “I’m sorry, Rae.”

Her smile fades. “What are you apologizing for?”

“Ravishing you in the kitchen. Taking advantage of you when you’re drunk.” Plus, losing control enough so that she saw what she did: The woman in the darkened bedroom, hunched beneath the quilt. It was an old memory, I could tell, but I felt Rae’s terror just the same. Whoever that woman was, whatever it means, it was my fault. Regret seeps through me, with a familiar chaser of self-hatred.

Rae frowns at me. “You didn’t take advantage of me,” she says, sliding from the counter to the floor, hands on her hips. “You’re drunk too,” she points out. “Maybe I took advantage of you. And besides. What the hell was that?”

I can feel my face shut down, settling into the mask I use to disguise what I’m feeling. My heart picks up speed, thudding in my chest. “What the hell was what? I said I was sorry.”

“Not that. The—” She waves her hand in the air, and with a sinking feeling, I know she’s talking about what she saw when I touched her. I do my best to look puzzled—after all, how could I possibly know what’s in her head?—and after a moment she lets it go. “Never mind,” she says, rubbing her eyes. “Is that all you have to say? Sorry? You’re sorry?”

“Yeah,” I say, relief warring with disappointment. I was so close to telling her the truth, I almost wish I’d gone ahead and gotten it over with. If things go wrong, we could always blame it on the margaritas. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You’re always sorry,” she says, glaring at me. “How come every time this happens, you freak out? Is there something wrong with me?”

I can feel the last of the guard slipping over my face, filling my eyes. “What, you think it’s a good idea for us to make out in the kitchen when our parents might be back any second? When we’re both drunk and bound to do something we’ll regret?”

This last comes out harsher than I meant it to, and I see hurt flash across her face before she lifts her chin in defiance. “No, I don’t. But it’s never mattered where we were. Or when, either. We could be on a deserted island in the middle of the Pacific, and you’d still be like this. Are you trying to drive me crazy?”

“Yeah, that’s it, Rae. I’m a tease.” My voice is heavy with sarcasm.

“Then what? Explain it to me, because I don’t understand.”

“I can’t explain it,” I say, shifting from one foot to the other. Strictly speaking, this isn’t true. I could explain it, all right. But if I tell her the truth—what I’m capable of, what I can do—I’d be willing to bet she’d run as fast as she can in the other direction and never look back.

“Why can’t you? I don’t care about our parents, Alex. Do you hear me? I don’t care.” She reaches out and touches my hand. “I know it’s awkward. I know it’s weird. But if that’s the only problem, we can work it out. And if it’s not, just tell me, for God’s sake.”

I pull away, feeling a renewed surge of remorse. “It’s got nothing to do with you. It’s me, all right?”

“It’s not you, it’s me. There’s a new excuse. At least have some originality.” She opens the microwave and yanks out the dish of enchiladas. I bet she’s considering hurling it at my head.

“It’s not like that,” I protest, but she ignores me.

“You are such an ass,” she hisses. “A mercurial, manipulative ass. I can’t believe I fell for this again. You do whatever you want, whenever you want to do it, and expect me to just go along, is that it? Well, no fucking more! Either tell me the truth, or I’m slamming the door on whatever this is”—she gestures between us—“for the last time. Either be honest with me, or next time, don’t bother coming home.”

I feel myself go pale. “You don’t mean that.”

“Come back to Kill Devil Hills all you want, I can’t stop you. But you won’t be coming home to me.” She looks up at me, meets my eyes, and flinches. I’m sure my pupils are still dilated, leaving only the thinnest line of green. Strong emotion will do that to me, every time. It’s a warning, a sign that I need to pull myself together before I lose control—before the ability to see other people’s memories that I keep locked down tight escapes the cage I’ve built for it and comes out to play.

The thing is, this time I don’t feel like listening. Maybe it’s the margaritas, maybe it’s my mood, who knows—but I am sick of pretending to be normal, sick of pretending that our parents’ relationship is the real reason I’ve played hard to get all these years. With a sickening swing of vertigo, I realize I want to tell her the truth, and hang the consequences.

We stare at each other, poised on a knife-edge of anger and indecision. Then I say, “The hell with it,” and close the distance between us, heart pounding like a drum.

RAE

FEAR FLASHES THROUGH ME, a white-hot danger signal, and I feel my muscles tense. I have no reason to be afraid of him—for all of Alex’s moodiness and contradictions, he’s never laid a hand on me in anger, has rarely even raised his voice. But something about the way he steps toward me triggers a response that has nothing to do with my conscious mind. It screams predator, and as he backs me against the refrigerator, one hand on either side of my head, I have to fight the instinct to escape.

After everything I’ve said, though, I’ll be damned if I’m the one to run away. I straighten my spine, force myself to look directly at him.

“You want the truth?” he says, his voice a caress. “I’ll tell you, Rae. But I don’t think you’ll like it.”

“What do you mean?” I say, and now I do try to edge out of the box his hands have made. He traps me, holding me still.

“Who’s running now?” he says, lowering his head to brush his lips across mine. This kiss is different—there’s anger in it, and a barely tempered sense of possession. It frightens me even more than the way his eyes look, or the way he moved, like a big cat advancing on its prey. Over all of the years I have known him, all of the turns our relationship has taken, he has never once kissed me like this.

“I just thought I’d do this one last time,” he says. “Because I’d bet money you won’t let me put a finger on you again after you hear what I have to say.” The corner of his mouth rises in a self-deprecating, mirthless smile.

“Alex, you’re scaring me.” I try to read his face, but it’s a useless pursuit.

“Am I?” he says in that same distant voice. “Already?” He puts his hands on either side of my face, cradling it. His touch is gentle, but I shy from it just the same.

“Show me your mom, Rae,” he says. “Show me Meg.”

I start to ask him what the hell he means, to squirm out of his grasp and tell him to stop being an ass, but the look on his face stops me. There’s no humor on it anywhere, no sense that this is a ploy he’s taken one step too far. He looks as serious as I’ve ever seen him, and sad.

One moment I’m staring at him, at the thin rim of green that remains around his pupil. Like a cat, I think stupidly. Then the black eats the green. I fall into his eyes and I am gone.

ALEX

I AM inside Rae’s memories. I see what she sees, through her eyes, as if I were there with her. The boundaries between us blur, time unspooling and running backward, until we land in a dark bedroom, blinds drawn against the sunlight.

The smell of dust and roses rises thick in the air as Rae and I stand in the doorway, clutching a brown bunny, fur worn down with age. The bunny’s plastic nose digs into our side, but we don’t mind. We are wearing pink pajamas with feet. They have rainbows on them. In the hand that doesn’t have the bunny, we’re holding a picture. We made it with Daddy, for Mommy. Mommy is in the Dark Place. Maybe the picture will help her come out.

But now Daddy is here, and he is angry. “Goddammit, Meg,” he says to Mommy. “You don’t mean that. You need help.”

The covers move, and for the first time in days Mommy is sitting up. She looks tiny in the big four-poster bed. Her hair is a mess, tangled and sticking up. The blanket falls to her waist and we can see she is wearing her blue nightgown, which she has had on for a long time. It smells funny, but she will not take it off, even when Daddy says he will wash it and give it right back. She just rolls over and turns her face to the wall.

Now she is sitting up though, and we are happy. Maybe she will get out of bed and play with us. Maybe she will get out her paints and brushes and make something pretty, and she will give us some paper and crayons so we can make something too. The time when she used to do this is almost too far away for us to remember, but not quite. We remember that Mommy, the one who smells like flowers, who laughs big and loud, who picks us up and dances with us around our room. This stranger has taken her. We want her back. We have been waiting so long.

But when Mommy speaks, we know the stranger is still here. Her eyes are all scary, wide and too white, like the moon. “What I need,” she says, “is for you to do what I ask. Or I swear to God, I will drop her right in the Sound. You take her, Birch. Take her far away from here.”

Daddy looks scared then. He rubs his arms like he is cold. “You don’t mean that, Meg,” he says again. “You would never do that.”

“Don’t tell me what I do and do not mean,” Mommy says, and it is the stranger talking, it has to be, because her voice is low and hisses like the snake we saw at the zoo last week. “You have no idea what I’m capable of. You have no idea what I can do. You don’t even know me.”

“How can you say that? I love you. Rae loves you. We’re your family.” Daddy is on his knees next to the bed. He reaches for her, but she pulls back quick, faster than we have seen her move since she went into her room and made it night all the time and wouldn’t come out, even when we said please and cried. She hugs her knees to her chest, a little ball of Mommy.

“If you love me, take her and go,” she says. “She’s better off without me. I don’t want her to see me like this. You, either.”

“We love you,” Daddy says again. “When you love somebody, you stick around for the bad times, too. What kind of person would I be if I walked out on you now? Who does that?”

“Someone who respects what I want,” Mommy says. She is staring down at her knees now, and we can hardly hear her. Maybe we don’t want to hear.

“I respect you, Meg,” Daddy says, rubbing a hand across his eyes. He looks so big, there next to the bed, with his beard and his blue-and-white flannel shirt and his green pants with the ridges in them. They are Cord O Roy, like the bear in the books Mommy used to read to us. He looks like Outside, like something real. We look over at Mommy, and hug Bunny tight. It is like she is disappearing into the bed, getting smaller and smaller like Alice down the rabbit hole. She is all tangled-up red hair and big starey eyes.

“You’ll get better. You need to see a doctor. You need medicine,” Daddy says in the everything’s-okay voice he uses to talk our dog, Grizzly, out from under the house before a thunderstorm.

“Why? So it can just happen all over again? I can’t do this anymore, Birch. And I don’t have to. But you take her, you take her first. You take her and you go.”

“What are you saying?” Daddy says, and now his voice sounds all strange, like he is crying. We have never seen Daddy cry, and we would do anything to make it stop. We run into the dark room and jump on the bed. “Get better, Mommy,” we say, throwing our arms around her. “I don’t want to go away.”

Mommy’s arms rise up robot-slow, and she hugs us. Underneath the dirty-nightgown smell there are others—the vanilla she leaves in a bowl so that her art room isn’t all painty, her rose perfume in the glass bottle that we’re not allowed to touch. The smell of Mommy. We hide our head in her neck and she pets our hair. She hasn’t touched us in so long. We hold very very still, so she won’t stop.

“I know you love her,” Daddy says. “How can you say you want us to leave?”

Mommy laughs then, an ugly unhappy laugh. The laugh frightens us. It goes with her stand-uppy hair and her spooky eyes and the mean way she talked to Daddy before. “It’s because I love her,” she says, hugging us tight. “She deserves better than this. And you can give it to her. I want her to remember the good things about me. Not this.”

“She won’t remember anything,” Daddy says. “She won’t remember you.”

“You make her remember, Birch,” Mommy says, petting Bunny. “Tell her whatever you want. Whatever you think is right. I trust you.”

“You want me to lie for you?”

We feel Mommy nod once, twice, against our face, and we know that means Yes. Why would she tell Daddy to lie, when lying is bad? We scrunch our eyebrows up, trying to figure it out.

“Please,” Mommy says, and we can feel wetness on our cheek where it touches hers. Even our braids are wet, our funny coming-apart braids that Daddy fixed for us this morning with the pink ponytail holders, our favorites. “Please do this.”

There is quiet all around us then, and we think that maybe Daddy has gone. We smooth out our eyebrows and lift our head to see, but he is still there, on his knees next to the bed. He breathes in, lets it out, looks at us. And then he says, “I won’t leave you, Meg. Jesus. Hate me all you want, but I won’t.”

Mommy squeezes us even tighter, so that it’s hard to breathe. “I knew you’d say that,” she says to Daddy, who does not answer. Then she holds her hands to our ear, and we hear the sound of the sea, same as when you listen to one of those big curly shells. How can Mommy have the sea in her hands?

“Rae, honey,” she says into our ear. She is so close, it sounds like her voice is coming from the inside of our head, like we are thinking the words. “Violet of my heart,” she whispers. “Sweet girl.” She kisses the top of our head, butterfly-light. “Be brave. Be free. Shine.”

She opens her arms then, and even in the dark room we can see that she is crying. We lift our hand to wipe the tears away, but before it can reach her face, she catches it and holds it to her lips. She kisses our palm and folds our fingers over to make sure the kiss won’t get away. Then she drops her hands to her sides.

We sit on the bed in our pink pajamas, hugging Bunny. “Mommy?” we say. “I can stay with you. I won’t make any noise. I’ll be good. I promise. We don’t have to go away. Bunny and me will wait. We’ll just wait ‘til you’re ready to come out again. Okay? Okay, Mommy?”

Mommy makes a terrible sound then, like she is choking. “Birch. Please. Enough.”

Daddy is shaking his head, over and over. He holds his arms out to us, but we won’t go. “Mommy needs me,” we say, and so he waits. We chew on the end of our braid, waiting too.

We meant for Mommy to feel better, but instead she cries harder. “For God’s sake,” she says. “Have mercy, Birch. Don’t do this.”

“Right back at you,” Daddy says, his voice snow-cold. “Come on, Rae, sweetheart.” When he talks to us, his voice is gentle. He bends down and picks us up. We reach our arms out to Mommy, but she turns away and pulls the covers over her head. She is in the Dark Place again, and she won’t come out. We watch her over Daddy’s shoulder as he carries us out of the room, into the light. She doesn’t say goodbye.

RAE

I COME BACK to myself on the floor of the kitchen, kneeling on the hardwood. Alex has my hands in both of his, but as soon as my eyes flicker open, he lets go. This time, though, I realize it’s not because he thinks I’m poison. It’s the other way around.

Maybe it’s always been the other way around.

“Shit, Rae,” he says, his voice breaking. “I wanted to show you…but I didn’t mean for you to see…”

What did I see? Was that my mother? In my heart, I know that it was. And that she was begging my father to take me away. But I don’t understand.

“How?” I whisper. “How did you do that?”

“I thought it would be a gift. Something good I could give you. But instead—” He shakes his head violently, as if he’s trying to shake his thoughts out of it, and with a dull thud of shock, I realize that, impossible as it is, he must have seen the same thing I did. “I’m a goddamn idiot,” he mutters. “So stupid, to think I could do anything but hurt you.”

“Wait.” I cut him off, grabbing his hands again and refusing to let go when he tries to pull away. “You made me see that, right? And you saw it, too?”

He ducks his head, but not before I see an expression of utter self-loathing streak across his face. Head bent, he nods. “I call it the Seeing Thing,” he says to the floor. “It’s fucked up as hell, I know. Comes out when I…feel things. And you”—his head comes up now, and he looks me right in the eye—“you make me feel too much. All the time.”

It’s both a confession and an accusation, but I can’t process either one right now. “Do it again,” I whisper.

He gives an incredulous laugh. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“I saw my mother.” My voice is rising. “If you do it again, maybe you can help me find out what happened to her. Even if she’s really d-dead. You can do it on purpose, right? You just did. Please, please do it again.”

“I can only see what you see.” His hands grip mine, so tight they hurt. “Know what you know.”

“But maybe I saw something! You can help me remember.” I squeeze right back. God, my poor mother. “She wanted to protect me. She tried to make my father take me away. But then, what happened to her? Please, Alex, we have to try—”

Alex stares at me like he can’t believe I’m real. “Hold up.” His voice is a whisper. “How can you just accept this?”

That’s a good question, and I don’t have an excellent answer. But then again, I’ve always believed there was more to the world than what I could see. And what Alex has just done for me…he’s given me back a part of myself I lost long ago. He’s given me back a memory of my mom, even though that memory breaks my heart.

I sink back on my heels, looking up at him. “Maybe it’s the margaritas. But I don’t think so. You’re talking to the girl who’s spent every Halloween for the past decade talking to psychics. And now here you are, right in front of me, and you just…you just…” I bite my lip. “You’re a miracle,” I decide. “Even though what I saw was awful, the fact that you can…do that…is incredible. Why would you hide it from me all this time?”

“You don’t hate me?” He peers into my eyes, as if trying to divine the truth. “You don’t think I’m a freak?”

My eyebrows knit as what I just saw begins to sink in. “Why would I hate you? Who I’m angry with is my father. He knew at least this much, and he never told me. Even if he was trying to honor what my mother asked him, that’s not right. I deserved to know. But you…what you’ve given me is a gift.”

Tears fill my eyes. They overspill, making their way down my cheeks, and he winces. “Oh, baby, no,” he says, freeing a hand to wipe them away. “Please don’t cry.”

An hour ago, the fact that he’d called me baby would’ve blown my mind. But now, my mind is far too blown for that to make much of an impression. “She called me ‘violet of my heart,’” I tell Alex. “She loved me.”

“Of course she did.” His lips set in a grim line. “How could she not?”

Something about the way he says that gnaws at me, and I look up at him again, sniffling. “Your mom,” I say.

“What about her?”

“Does she know?” I gesture at him.

“Of course she does.” He swallows hard. “Years ago, when I first figured out what I could do, I showed her something terrible. I didn’t mean to. It was an accident. But my biological father…I guess he could do the same thing. And he used it against her. She thinks it’s a curse.” His voice drops so low, I can hardly hear it. “She’s scared of me. It can happen—when I touch people. You’ve seen. She won’t let me near her.”

So much suddenly makes sense. The way Abby avoids being close to Alex. The fact that his job takes him all over the world with a camera in his hand, never staying in one place for long. The flings that have always stood in for his relationships. And, of course, the way he is with me.

“So it’s not that you’re my stepbrother,” I say, laughing through my tears. “Or that you don’t want me. Or that you’re just messing with my head. It’s…this.”

“I’ll admit, the stepbrother thing isn’t great. But I’m not normal,” he says, eyeing me like he’s waiting for me to run out of the room screaming, the way I used to when he jumped out from behind a door at me. “I’m the furthest thing from normal there is. When I’m with you, Rae, like we just were…I can’t keep it locked away, like I normally do. All of my defenses fall down. And then—well, you saw what happened. I can call anything to the surface like that. And I’ll see what you see. You won’t be able to keep me out of your head. Why aren’t you frightened of me?”

“Because,” I say, wrapping my arms around him. “You would never hurt me.”

He mutters something into my hair that sounds like “…delusional.”

“You’ve been trying to protect me,” I say. “From yourself. Is that the kind of thing someone does when they plan to hurt another person?”

Alex snorts, and I feel his warm breath against my neck. “You’re scared of ghost stories,” he says, holding me tighter. “Of weird noises, for fuck’s sake. But not this?”

I pull back enough to see his face. “You’re not scary,” I tell him, feeling an undeniable sense of conviction fill me. “You’re mine.”

“I am,” he says, sounding more tentative than I’ve ever heard him. “If you want me. But be aware you’re getting the shitty end of the deal.”

That sense of conviction transmutes itself into joy. “I don’t believe that for a second. But I do have one question,” I ask him. “Why did you really come home?”

He sighs. “We wrapped early, like I said. But I knew you’d be going to that stupid psychic. And that she’d probably crush your dreams again. I just…I didn’t want you to have to go through it alone.”

“You came home for me,” I say, just to make sure I understand.

“Well, that and to keep my goddamn title. Didn’t want to lose the Paranormal Margarita Night Grand Slam to a dude who steals a story straight out of the OBX Ghost Walk’s playbook every year.” He arches one black eyebrow at me, but then his half-smile fades. “Seriously though, Rae. Are you sure you want to deal with…this?” He gestures at himself, his shoulders braced, as if to bear the weight of my rejection.

The irony that Alex came home to help me cope with seeing yet another useless psychic, when he turned out to be the one who led me straight to my mother, doesn’t escape me. I vow in that moment to protect him, the same way he’s protected me. I know in my heart he never meant to hurt Abby, whatever he showed her. Somehow, together, we will make her see.

“Before,” I tell him, “you said the fact I didn’t give up on stuff was one of the things you loved most about me. Well, I didn’t quit on learning what happened to my mom. I still won’t, until I find out the rest. And I won’t quit on you. Not unless you want me to. I just need you to promise to always tell me the truth.”

He’s looking at me like I’m a star that just streaked across the sky on the darkest night imaginable. And then he takes me by the shoulders, gripping hard, like he never wants to let me go. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this,” he says. “And maybe I’m dreaming. But just in case I’m not…I love you, Rae. I’ve loved you since we met. If I ever gave you another impression—I’m sorry.”

“I love you too,” I tell him.

The smile he gives me lights up his entire face. I’ve never seen him look like this—unfettered and bright, like he has nothing to hide.

“So,” he says, stroking my palm with his thumb, “what do we do now?”

As if on cue, the front door creaks open. Abby and my dad are back. They’ve only been gone thirty minutes, but in that half hour, my whole world has changed.

“Alex?” my dad calls out. “Rae? Where are you? We’ve got reinforcements.”

“Coming,” I yell, trying to get my head around what needs to happen next.

Alex pulls me to my feet and then tries to drop my hand, but once again, I hold his tight. I know one thing for sure. “If I’m yours and you’re mine,” I tell him, “we’re not going to hide it.”

“Okay,” he says, his wary gaze on my face. “Well, this will be a shitshow.”

It probably will be. But after everything my dad’s hidden from me, and Abby’s hidden from both of us, I don’t think either of them have a leg to stand on.

“I hope you have a plan,” Alex says. “Because I’ve got nothing.”

I raise a single finger on my free hand. “First,” I say, “I’m going to tell them about us.” I raise a second finger. “After they finish freaking out, I’m going to ask my dad for the truth about my mother, everything he knows. I’ve got a feeling he was trying to protect me, just like you were—like my mother was—but that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it. I know what I’m going to hear isn’t pleasant. But I’ve been waiting a long time, and I’m ready.”

“All right,” Alex says, still watching me.

I raise a third finger. “Somewhere in all of this, you and I are going to sober up the rest of the way. And then,” I say, raising finger number four, “I’m going to drive you back to my apartment, which has zero parents and a very comfortable bed. All right?”

His laugh shakes us both. “I’m partial to counters myself,” he confides with a glance at where I’d been perched before, his voice husky. “But as for the rest of it…it’s about goddamn time.”

Hand in hand, we walk into the living room, ready to face our future.

About the Author

Emily Colin’s debut novel, THE MEMORY THIEF, was a New York Times bestseller and a Target Emerging Authors Pick; she followed it up with THE DREAM KEEPER’S DAUGHTER. She co-edited and contributed to the young adult anthologies WICKED SOUTH: SECRETS AND LIES and UNBOUND: STORIES OF TRANSFORMATION, LOVE, AND MONSTERS, which was a Suspense Magazine “Best of” 2021 pick as well as a 2021 Foreword INDIES Award finalist. Emily is also the author of the young adult romantic dystopian Seven Sins series. SWORD OF THE SEVEN SINS, the first book, was a Foreword INDIES Award finalist, won the YA fiction award of the North Carolina Indie Author Project, and was shortlisted for the 2021 Manly Wade Wellman Award for North Carolina Science Fiction and Fantasy. The second novel in the series, SIEGE OF THE SEVEN SINS, was a 2021 silver IPPY Award winner and Foreword INDIES finalist. Emily is a writing instructor, editor, and book coach.

You can find her at www.emilycolin.com and on IG at @emily_colin.

KISS OF NIGHT

A THORNE HILL STORY

EMILY GOODWIN

CHAPTER ONE

“YOU HAVE no idea how turned on I am right now.” Eyes wide, I reach out and run my hand over cool bottles of red wine. “I can’t believe you kept this from me.” I whirl around and Lucas’s hands land on my waist, long fingers curling against my flesh. A shiver runs through me, both from the chilly air of the wine cellar and from the way Lucas—my new husband—is looking at me.

God damn.

“We did go over all my assets before we got married,” he reminds me and steps in closer, lips curving into a smirk. “Though I seem to recall you scrolling through social media on your phone the entire meeting.”

“Guilty,” I say, resting my hands on his muscular shoulders, inhaling deep so my breasts brush against his chest. Lucas draws his fangs and closes the distance between us, mouth going to my neck. The sharp points of his fangs press against my flesh just hard enough to cause a little bit of pain but don’t break through the surface. My hands slip down his chest, not stopping until my fingers hook around the waist of his pants.

“We are alone, aren’t we?” I ask. We arrived at the California vineyard a little after midnight and Lucas is giving me a private tour. We started in the wine cellar, of course.

“We are,” he replies, deep voice rattling right through me. “But if we weren’t, it wouldn’t matter. I will fuck you whenever, wherever I want. Especially on our honeymoon.”

“Mmm.” I sink my teeth into my lip, looking into Lucas’s deep blue eyes. I never thought I’d be this okay with being with someone as controlling and possessive as Lucas. I’m independent and don’t like to be told what to do. But damn, I love this man and there’s something so fucking sexy about the way he sees what he wants and just takes it.

In a swift movement, he picks me up and sets me down on top of a barrel. Then he drops to his knees, parting my legs and bunching my black dress up around my waist. I lean back, cool bricks pressing against my back and let my eyes fall shut.

Lucas puts his mouth to my thigh, sending a jolt of pleasure through me. His fangs graze against my skin as he turns his face in, teasing my clit over the thin fabric of my underwear. I bring one hand down, tangling his thick, dark hair through my fingers.

And I know he’s right: if anyone else was here, it wouldn’t fucking matter.

“DAMN IT.” I turn the bottle upside down, watching the last little bit of sweet red wine pitifully drip into my empty glass. “Anyone want to accompany me to the wine cellar?” I look over at Binx, Freya, and Pandora, my familiars, and shake my head. Taking on the form of cats, it’s almost easy for me to think they’re just regular felines sometimes by how willingly they play the part. And right now, all three are lounging in the sun with me.

Stretching my arms out in front of me, I stand up, blinking a few times from the head rush. I’ve been alternating between drinking on the pool deck and drinking while floating in the pool. It’s been a while since I’ve eaten anything, though right now all I want is more wine. Pulling the tie out of my hair, I shake out the messy bun and go into the house.

As soon as the glass door shuts behind me, Lucas grabs me around the waist and throws me down on the couch.

“You smell like the sun,” he says, nuzzling his face against my breasts.

“And probably a little like sweat,” I admit, lips curving into a smile as I curl my legs around his waist, feeling his cock harden against me. “Though I have to admit this whole heat with low humidity thing is nice. There are covens in the area I could join.” I raise my eyebrows, trying to sound serious.

“I’d go anywhere in the world with you, my love, but we both know you’re not leaving Thorne Hill.” He rakes his fingers through my tangled locks and slides one hand under me, pressing my breasts against his chest.

“Well, I wouldn’t be opposed to coming back here for a weekend or two in the winter. Especially after Christmas.”

“We can most certainly do that.” His lips go to my neck, gently kissing the two bite marks he left just this morning. We’re on day three of our honeymoon and have spent more time naked together than doing anything else, just how a honeymoon should be spent. Lucas had the ambitious goal of fucking me on every surface possible in every room of this house, and we’ve made good on it so far.

This house is more than twice the size of my little brick house back in Thorne Hill, though I’m definitely not complaining. Lucas, my forever business savvy vampire, has bought and sold real estate over his sixteen hundred undead years and has created a bit of an empire, and that’s being modest. He purchased this Napa Valley vineyard back in the 1940s and has kept it “family owned and operated” ever since, letting the original owners’ descendants rent the land and keep the vineyard under their well-known family name.

My eyes fall shut as Lucas kisses his way down my neck, going down to my collar bone. Running my fingers through his hair again, I bring his face back to mine and kiss him, tongue going into his mouth. Using magic, I push him off me and force him down on the couch so I can climb on top. Eyes glimmering, Lucas hungrily watches me reach around and pull the ties on my bikini. I grind against his pelvis, rubbing myself against his cock. He undoes the ties at my hips, and I lift up just enough for him to pull my bottoms off, tossing them on the floor next to my bikini top.

Moving with vampire speed, he flips back over, scoops me up, and carries me into the sitting room in the front of the house.

“I’ve already fucked you on the couch,” he growls, pressing my back up against the wall right next to the large windows that overlook the vineyard. People are taking tours on it now, and while we’re a decent way away, it’s still more than possible to be seen. Warm sunlight shines through the glass, illuminating both of us. It took forever to enchant every window in this large house, making it possible for Lucas to daywalk while inside.

I keep my legs fastened around him as he kisses me, holding me with ease up against the wall. Sex with vampires was rumored to be better than anything, but it wasn’t until Lucas and I started dating that I realized superhuman strength is a much-added bonus I never considered before.

Holding me with one arm, he leans back a bit and moves his free hand between my legs, rubbing my clit until I’m on the verge of coming. Then he drops down, moving fast yet graceful. I plant one foot on the ground and hook the other over his shoulder while he works his tongue against me like magic.

“Oh, god,” I moan, pressing my back against the wall to try and keep my balance. Lucas pushes two fingers inside me, going right to the sweet spot that always pushes me over the edge. He holds them against me for a moment, and the added pressure does me in. I come hard against his face, and he licks up every drop I give him.

Pussy still pulsing with pleasure, he gets back to his feet, holding me steady since he knows the world is spinning around me at the moment. I’m trying to catch my breath as he undoes his pants, and then I feebly bring him to me. He picks me up and lays down on a padded bench below the window, with me on top. I’m still panting and my heart is still racing as I wrap my fingers around his big cock, guiding it in.

I cry out with pleasure as I sink down, feeling him fill every inch. Lucas’s large hands grip my waist as I ride him, rocking back and forth with increasing speed. I pitch forward as I come for the second time, and Lucas keeps moving my hips, coming only seconds later.

Letting out a breath, I lean against Lucas. He brushes my hair back and slowly sits up, kissing me once more.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers, lips against my ear. He’s literally still inside me and I’m getting turned on all over again. “My wife.”

My lips curve into a smile. “Husband.” I rest my forehead against him and laugh. “We’re so that annoying newlywed couple right now. At least no one has to put up with it.”

“Don’t worry about anyone else,” Lucas says. He’s never been one to let anyone else’s opinion sway him in any way, and it’s one of the things I love about him. Slowly, we break apart and I go into the bathroom to pee and clean myself up. Still naked, I come back out and go into the kitchen to get some water.

“Where’s Scarlet?” I ask, realizing I haven’t seen my hellhound, who’s glamoured to look like a golden retriever puppy, in a while.

“Look on the front porch,” Lucas says, opening his laptop. He said he wasn’t going to work while on our honeymoon, but with him stuck inside to wait out the sun and me going out to lay by the pool, I won’t bring it up. Wrapping a blanket from the couch around myself, I go through the house and look outside, letting out a snort of laughter when I see my hellhound stretched out on the porch swing, sound asleep.

“I think she’s taking lessons from your familiars on how to act the part.” Lucas wraps his arms around me, and I step back, leaning into his embrace.

“Right? Though it’s only been a few days since she helped me vanquish a demon. I hope she doesn’t get bored.”

“You know she’ll help you vanquish more demons sooner rather than later,” Lucas says ruefully.

“That is very true. And you know what else is true?” I spin in his arms, letting the blanket fall to the ground. “I’m out of wine.”

“There are a dozen or so bottles in the pantry.”

“Let me specify I’m out of the sweet wine. But the beauty of living on a vineyard is being able to walk down to the wine cellar. I do prefer the sweeter wine, but if you want to taste anything later, I’ll drink it.”

Lucas chuckles. “I fucking love the way you taste regardless.” He kisses the top of my forehead. What I eat or drink makes just the slightest difference to the way my blood tastes, though if I’m drunk enough and he feeds off of me, he’ll get a very short-lived buzz. It’s only happened a few times, and drunk-Lucas is hilariously endearing.

Breaking apart, I go upstairs, put on a dress and underwear and then brush out my tangled hair. I curl it with magic as I go back downstairs to find my sandals. “Come on, guys,” I say to my familiars. Pandora and Freya shadow forward and Binx slowly winds around my legs, wanting me to carry him.

“Fine,” I huff, acting like I’m annoyed though secretly I love how cat-like my familiars act. I pick him up and nuzzle my face against his fur as I walk down the path from the house to the commercial buildings, where the wine cellar is located. Since I’ve only been here after hours, I’ve yet to meet any of the staff members and get by pretty much unnoticed.

I set Binx down when we get into the wine cellar, and I regret not bringing my phone to take pictures to send to my friends, playfully teasing them for not relaxing at a vineyard having crazy good sex like I am. I’m running my hand over different bottles of red wine, thinking that maybe I should try something other than the sweeter wine I usually drink, when the wine cellar door opens.

A man dressed in khakis and a button up shirt steps in and gasps, startled to see me.

“Oh, sorry,” I say, knowing he wasn’t expecting anyone to be here. “I’m Callie King,” I quickly add so he doesn’t think I’m some random tourist just wandering around by myself. “Lucas King’s wife.” I have to try not to smile as I say it. Callie King…Lucas King’s wife. Yep. I’m definitely annoyingly over the top right now.

“Oh goodness.” The man quickly closes the door behind him and then looks like he instantly regrets it. “I am so sorry if the sunlight was too much.”

“What—oh, I’m not a vampire.”

The man visibly relaxes. “Good, I mean, not that it would have mattered. Because I support vampire-human rights. It’s just, I, uh, I—”

“It’s okay,” I interrupt. If this guy has met Lucas at all, then it is shocking to think my ancient vampire settled down with some regular old human, but it’s not like I can tell this guy my mother was a witch and my father is a freaking archangel. “And these are my cats. They, uh, go everywhere with me. Even my honeymoon.” I wince as the words leave my mouth. Though, again, not trying to claim I’m normal here.

The guy smiles as Pandora comes over, tail in the air. He crouches down and lets Pandora rub against his hand. “Maybe they can help us.”

“With what?”

“I swear we have a rodent problem.” He looks up, meeting my eyes for half a second. “We’ve had two different companies come through and say there are no rats or mice. But little things have gone missing and more than a few bottles of wine have had their corks chewed right out.” He widens his eyes, thinking he said too much. “I know how much reputation means to Mr. King, and trust me, we’ve been doing everything we can. I even set up cameras in the kitchen at night that record when they detect movement.”

“Have you caught anything?” I ask, looking around for cameras in here. He certainly caught some movement from me if there are some.

“Yes and no. Things have been knocked over and something keeps trying to take the sacks of sugar and the fruit from the fridge. But by the time the camera starts recording, whatever is doing it is gone.” He laughs. “Maybe this place is haunted. Random things go missing only to turn up in an even more random place. It’s like someone is playing pranks on us. Could be a poltergeist.” He chuckles, thinking it’s ridiculous to even suggest it. “Because rats can’t fill the saltshakers with garlic powder.”

This place isn’t haunted, I’m positive, but I can think of something else that causes mischief and has an affinity for sweets.

Motherfucking pixies.

CHAPTER TWO

“WE HAVE A PROBLEM.” I set the three bottles of red wine I brought back with me on the counter.

“You drank all of that sweet red you like?”

“Hah.” I hold my hand over one bottle and use magic to pull the cork out. “That would be an even bigger problem. It seems pixies hitched a ride with the shipment of Yarg that was overnighted a few weeks ago for a wine and cheese event.”

Lucas raises his brows, staring at me incredulously. “You didn’t drink a bad bottle of wine on your way back do the house did you?”

Pursing my lips, I stare right back at him. “No, I did not.”

“Pixies?” he questions, holding back laughter. “Really?”

“That’s where you draw the line? You’re a vampire married to a Nephilim, but pixies are too much to believe in?”

“In all my years—”

“You avoided other supernaturals,” I remind him. “And pixies usually don’t take up residence in vampire or werewolf dwellings.”

“Okay, what makes you think there are pixies in the vineyard?” He closes his laptop.

“Greg, the manager, said things have gone missing, they hear scurrying, and something is getting into food in the kitchen. They thought it was mice or rats and had someone come out, but no one found any evidence of rodents.”

“I still don’t see how that concludes to pixies.”

“They’re trying to drag the bags of sugar away and are able to get into that big fridge room. Pixies are pranksters who love sweets, and one of the cooks said he saw hedgehogs scurrying through the parking lot. They’re not native to the area, and pixies often shape shift into them.”

“So, how do we kill them?” Lucas asks slowly, still not sold that pixies are real.

“We’re not going to kill them. Pixies are pains in the ass, but they’re not malevolent. We need to catch them and I’ll get ahold of a coven in the area to come and collect. They can actually be helpful when they live with witches. Once the restaurant closes for the night, we’ll go in and get them.”

“You sound way too excited about this.”

“I haven’t seen a pixie since my third year at Grim Gate. They fall into that so ugly they’re cute category. Don’t expect Tinkerbell. Think more like a badly made Play-Doh person with dragonfly wings.”

“That’s not making me want to spare their lives.”

“No murder at least for the rest of the honeymoon, okay?”

“Fine,” he huffs. “How do we catch them?”

“You have to befriend them, which I can do. Then I’ll get them into an enchanted jar or something they can’t get out of and will hand them off to the nearest coven.”

“Why does that sound easier said than done?”

“Oh, because it is. Pixies are assholes.”

“Are you sure we can’t kill them?”

“No murder!” I press. “They like gifts of cake and wine, which means we already have something in common. Getting them to come out probably won’t be hard, but getting them in the jar will be. Once they realize what’s going on, they freak.”

“Can’t you cast a sleeping spell on them and just pick them up?”

“I wish. They can’t be spelled. I could telekinetically shove one into a jar, but we should be careful not to hurt their wings.” I take a drink of wine and look at Lucas, smiling sweetly. “So be gentle.”

“That’s the first time you’ve asked me that.”

I let out a snort of laughter. “Oh, I like it rough, but pixies are small. Like Chelsea-doll size.”

“What?”

“She’s Barbie’s little sister.”

“What?”

“Seriously, you’ve been on this earth for sixteen hundred years and you have no idea who Barbie is?”

“I know who Barbie is.”

“Did you know her last name is Robinson?”

Lucas raises an eyebrow. “Why do you know that?”

“I was a kid, remember? And before I played with daggers and spirit boards, I did have normal toys. Abby and I played together and then I forced Evander to play with me over the summer once I lived with the Greystones.”

“In between summoning poltergeists to marry?” he teases.

“Hey, that only happened once.”

Lucas comes over and wraps his arms around my waist. I take another drink of wine and set the glass down so I can twirl in his arms.

“You do have a knack for getting into trouble,” he muses, moving my hair to the side so he can kiss my neck.

“It’s just one of my many talents.” I slide my hands over his chest, feeling his cool skin beneath his t-shirt. The lack of a heartbeat against my palm used to unsettle me, but now I find it comforting. “At least I’m not in danger this time.”

“Don’t fucking jinx it.” His lips brush against my skin as he talks, and I close my eyes and rest my head against him.

“I thought you didn’t believe in jinxes.”

“I didn’t, and then I met you.”

We both laugh, but there’s truth behind his words. Because as nice and carefree as this honeymoon is, we have to go back to reality eventually. And my reality is danger.

“AND NOW WE WAIT.” Using magic, I pull a cork from a bottle of Moscato and pour some into my own glass. Lucas leans against the wall, eyeing my little setup. We’re in the kitchen, which seems to be the epicenter for pixie activity, and I laid out a cloth napkin on the floor like a picnic blanket, and filled shot glasses halfway with wine, and have a piece of cake on a plate in the middle.

“They’re not coming out.”

“And I thought you said vampires were patient,” I chide. “They’ll come out eventually.” I take another drink of wine and sit on the floor near the pixie picnic. “You guys can come out,” I call. “It’s okay. I know what you are.” I enchanted an empty wine barrel and have it stashed in the bathroom. The plan is for Lucas to speed out and get it once the pixies make their way out. They won’t be happy to be captured, and as soon as they realize what’s going on, they’ll hide.

Lucas picks up a bottle of red wine vinegar from a shelf and looks at it for a moment before setting it back.

“Posca,” he says softly.

“What?”

“Posca. It’s the last human food I consumed. Technically, it’s a drink not a food.”

I tip my head up, eyes on my husband. He rarely talks about his days before being turned into a vampire. Not even Eliza, who’s been with him for some three-hundred years, knows much about Lucas’s days as a Gladiator.

“What is it?”

“Water and vinegar.”

“That sounds disgusting.”

“It was,” he admits. “We didn’t have much of a choice.”

“Right, because you were captured.”

“Yes.” He turns toward me, and I try to imagine him as a human, heart beating and chest rapidly rising and falling, out of breath after being forced to fight in the Colosseum. I’m positive he was intimidating even as a human, and he was good at fighting even back then.

It’s why he was turned into a vampire, after all. Only the best human fighters were turned against their will and then forced to fight other vampires. I can only imagine how traumatic all that was.

“I’m surprised you remember. I can’t remember what I ate before bed two days ago.” I look at my wine glass. “I’m sure that has nothing to do with it. But hey, we’re at a vineyard.”

“I remember everything from that night,” he goes on and comes over and sits next to me. I loop my arm through his, feeling closer to him than ever before. “My arm was broken from a fight days prior. I was bandaging it so I could fight again in the morning. I knew if I couldn’t fight, they’d kill me. When a soldier came in to get me, I thought that was why.”

“Fuck,” I mumble and Lucas just shrugs.

“Instead, he led me to a room I’d never been to before, and I was turned.”

“Just like that? I mean, I wasn’t expecting them to wine and dine you, but that seems…anticlimactic, I guess.”

“It was business for them. I wasn’t the only one turned that night either.”

“I feel like I need to say sorry, because that’s awful, but I’m going to be selfish and also say I’m glad in a way it all happened because I wouldn’t have met you.”

“You know I like being a vampire. It made me—” He cuts off abruptly and speeds forward, grabbing a pixie from behind a cabinet. Oh, shit. So much for getting them to come out willingly. I scramble to my feet as the pixie screams in protest, trying to get out of Lucas’s grasp.

“It fucking bit me!” His hand tightens around the pixie, who lets out a squeal. The other swarm at Lucas, and a bag of flour tips over, billowing in our faces.

“Don’t hurt it!” I cough, waving my hand in the air. The dust settles and three more pixies swarm at us, swooping like birds.

“The little fucker bit me.” He opens the microwave and throws the pixie inside.

“Don’t you dare!” I shout and throw a hand out, creating a telekinetic shield to keep the other pixies from attacking us. “We’re not going to hurt you,” I tell the pixies. “Right, Lucas?”

His finger hovers over the add one minute button and I know it’s taking everything in him not to press it.

“Right, Lucas?” I ask again through gritted teeth.

“Right,” he finally replies and lowers his hand. The other pixies are still swarming and swooping, hitting my telekinetic shield over and over. They’re not the smartest, and the one trapped in the microwave never would have bitten Lucas if it knew he was a vampire.

“I’m going to let your friend out now,” I tell them. “We don’t want to hurt you, I promise. You can’t stay here, though. I already talked to a nice witch at the Redwood Coven, and they offered you a home at their academy. You won’t have to hide and steal food. And think of all the pranks you can play on the students, yeah? Kids are easy prey.”

Lucas looks at me, raising an eyebrow. “And I’m the bad guy here?”

“For pranks, obviously. Not for—you know what I mean.” I lower my hand, hoping the pixies will back off. They flit away, going back to hiding. “You can let him out now,” I tell Lucas.

“It would be more fun to catch them and see how long it takes before they explode in here.”

I give him a blank stare and then shake my head. “The fact that I find your murderous and violent ways so damn hot says more about me than it does you, but it’s not the way to catch pixies.”

“Fine,” he huffs and opens the microwave. The pixie flies out and Lucas flashes his fangs, unable to help himself…which actually gives me an idea.

“I know you can hear me,” I go on, talking to the pixies. “And I know you’ve liked it here, stealing from the kitchen and breaking into the wine cellar. But as you can see—” I motion to Lucas. “—this place is owned by a vampire and tomorrow night is vampire night. There will be so many vampires here and I really don’t want you to get hurt.” I extend my right hand, conjuring a string of blue magic that I release into the air.

Like moths to a flame, the pixies creep out of their hiding spots, attracted to the magic.

“I give you my word,” I tell them. “You’ll have a new home and I’m sure the younger students will leave treats out for you. I definitely would have.”

We wait a beat and a cabinet door slowly opens and a small pixie comes out. I conjure another string of magic and flick my fingers, sending it over to the pixie. It reaches out and touches it, getting a little static shock that makes the pixie giggle.

“This is so fucking weird,” Lucas grumbles and I elbow him. We’re making progress, here.

Another pixie comes out from its hiding place as well, and I direct the strings of magic to the little picnic area I set up for them. Lucas and I stand still, waiting until all the pixies come out of hiding. With some more coaxing, I get them into the wine barrel willingly, along with more snacks, of course.

The witch I spoke with earlier is already her way, and meets us only a few minutes later to get the pixies. She’s excited to take them back and assures them that they’ll be welcome as long as the pranks don’t get too out of hand.

“For all the things I thought could have happened on our honeymoon, this definitely wasn’t one of them,” Lucas says as the witch drives away. We’re on the porch, with the moonlit vineyard in front of us.

“I gotta keep you on your toes somehow.” Smiling, I snake my arms around Lucas.

“You do.” He pulls me to him, raking his fingers through my hair. “I love you, Callie King.” My smile grows, hearing him call me by his last name—our last name. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

About the Author

Emily Goodwin is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of over a dozen of romantic titles. Emily writes the kind of books she likes to read, and is a sucker for a swoon-worthy bad boy and happily ever afters. She lives in the Midwest with her husband and two daughters. When she’s not writing, you can find her riding her horses, hiking, reading, or drinking wine with friends.

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ONE WILD NIGHT

ERICA ALEXANDER

CHAPTER ONE

“BOSS?” I look up to see David, one of the concierge staff on duty tonight, at my open office door.

I narrow my eyes at him. I hate when he calls me boss, and he knows it.

He clears his throat before trying again. “I’m sorry. Miss Grant, we got a call from the Blue Presidential Suite. Our guest is not happy.”

What now? The presidential suites cost more per night than I make in a week. I can’t imagine that anyone could find fault in it, but occasionally someone does.

I save the spreadsheet I was working on and give David my full attention. “What’s the problem?”

“Our guest says he found a woman’s lacy underwear in the bed, stuck to the sheets.” He smirks and quickly covers it up when I glare at him.

My assistant handles our VIP guests’ check-ins, and I’ve been so busy I have yet to review the VIP list today. “Who are our guests?”

“Just one guest. Mr. Reed. I have already called room service to change the bedding, but thought that you would want to know about it before you leave for the day.”

I check the time, 8:30 PM. I should have left over an hour ago. “Thank you. You’re right. I want to know everything that goes on in my hotel.”

I wrap my work. I can finish it tomorrow. Before I go home, I should check on our guest. Bring a peace offering. I lock my office, grab my purse, and stop to speak with our sommelier on the way out. He gives me a gourmet cheese and fruit platter, and a bottle of Melanson Vineyard Cabernet Sauvignon. At three-hundred-dollar each bottle, the wine is a splurge. But also, something our VIP guests are used to, and I really have to make up for the underwear incident. I take the elevator to the top floor. Check myself in the mirror. Hair in a bun, my gray skirt and white blouse look perfect. I’ll apologize for the hotel mishap and be home within the hour.

The elevator door opens, and I walk to the Blue Presidential Suite. My steps are silent on the thick burgundy carpet.

I knock on the door rehearsing the apology in my mind and find myself face to face—no, revise that—I find myself face to a naked chest. A very large and very muscular naked chest. A sun-kissed, golden chest with a dusting of blondish hair. My gaze drops and gets snagged on the ridges on his abs. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Holy shit, he has an eight pack. My eyes continue their exploration and track down until the line of hair disappears under the band of well-worn jeans, the button undone. And behind the zipper, a generous bulge. My mouth goes dry.

I don’t know how long I stood there admiring all those taut muscles and golden skin. It could have been seconds or months. I might still be there admiring that piece of man art if not for the clearing of a throat and the deep, husky voice that broke my spell.

“May I help you?”

I look up. Alarm bells go off in my mind. What am I doing? Oh, my God. He caught me staring like a perv. My face burns. I’m a pervy-perv now. Okay, get it under control, Callie. That’s so unprofessional. I pride myself on never losing my cool. And here I am, acting like a horny teenager. Well, truth be said, it has been nearly a year since I’ve had sex and even longer since it was any good.

He looks at me, a crooked smile on that beautiful face. Blond hair is slicked back and damp from a shower. Long, dark lashes and bright-blue eyes full of mischief. He looks familiar. Is he an actor? I bet this guy is good. Bet he can give me an orgasm in under five minutes. Heck, he doesn’t even have to do anything. He can just lie there and look like sex on a stick, and I’ll do the rest. His smile is one of amusement and the crinkles on the corners of his eyes tell me this is a man who laughs often.

I swallow the growing embarrassment, resist the urge to fan my face. Not that I could. Both of my hands are full. Try to regain a semblance of aloof control. Then it hits me. Reed? Mr. Reed is Jayden Reed. The Jayden Reed. All of America knows his story. First pick on NFL, some nine or ten years ago. MVP and Super Bowl winner on his first year as a pro player. An All-American quarterback who was adored even by the opposing teams. He was that good and that charming. And it all lasted less than two years. Halfway into season two, he suffered an injury during a tackle and never returned to the field. But he put his double major in business and marketing to work instead. And two years after that, his sporting goods line was as well-known as any of the big ones that dominate the sportswear world. And the fact that he’s just thirty-two, a retired pro-player, CEO, spokesperson, and model for his own company just makes him even more successful. Even the gossip pages and TMZ have nothing negative to say about him. Everyone says he’s kind and incredibly generous with his time and money.

Jayden Reed is standing shirtless before me. I punt my inner fangirl to the curb and step into my professional persona. “Good evening Mr. Reed. I’m the hotel general manager. I was informed of what happened and want to apologize in person. And bring you this as a token of appreciation for choosing to stay with us. We value all our guests and I want to express how sorry I am for what happened.”

His smile widens, he leans a shoulder in the doorjamb, and I catch a trace of whatever soap he uses. Citrus and spicy.

He’s so charming. My worries about dealing with an angry guest evaporates. I’m immediately at ease and yet hyperaware of just how devastatingly handsome he is. “This is for you.” I show him the wine bottle and the covered platter. “I must say, that was a first for us. Never had this particular complaint before.” I smile. Am I flirting with him?

He looks at me, a sexy twinkle in his beautiful eyes. “I will accept your apology,” he looks at my nametag, “Callie, if you have a glass of wine with me.”

Wait, what? Could I do this? It’s against the rules for sure, but … look at him! Yes. Yes, I can. “Hmm, I am technically off the clock.” Oh, my god, who am I right now?

He takes the bottle and turns into the room, leaving the door wide open. “Come in then.” He moves like a panther, sleek and sure of his steps, and I follow him, my gaze taking in every inch of him, the broad shoulders, the muscular back, and his ass. Gosh, looking this good should be illegal. I stop in the middle of the suite’s living room, not sure of what to do now that I’m here.

He gently takes my hand, giving me the chance to pull away if I want to. I don’t. Jayden guides me to the large chocolate-brown leather couch, his thumb caressing the back of my hand the entire time. Shivers run up my arm and go straight to my core. I’ve never been this aroused before.

I sit, my purse slides off my shoulder, and I lay it on the carpeted floor. He lets my hand go, sets the wine bottle on the table, then takes the platter and sets next to the wine.

I look at the still open door and the hallway beyond. I’m breaking so many rules. I should get up and leave, but I don’t want to. I want to be here with him and for once in my life, don’t worry about the consequences.

He follows my gaze. “Do you want to leave? You can if you want to.”

I nibble on my lip. Leaving is the last thing I want to do. “No, but I probably should. I’m breaking a few hotel rules right now.”

He tilts his head. “I don’t want to get you into trouble, but I would love if you stayed. Do you want me to close the door?”

And this is it, decision time. Stay or go. If I stay, and he makes a move, I’m 99% sure I’ll sleep with him. Or regret it forever if I go. Screw it. I throw caution to the wind. “Yes, please.”

He walks back to the door, his easy steps so feline. He closes it and locks it. The click loud in the quiet room. My gaze never leaves him as he returns and sits on the coffee table in front of me and leans back, bracing himself on his hands. All that beautiful, sun-tanned skin on display.

He looks at my hands as I fidget with a ring. “Are you married?”

What? “No. Much to my mother’s disappointment. According to her, thirty is too old to be unmarried.” I laugh.

“A fiancé or boyfriend, then?”

“Neither. I’m single.”

He glances at my hands again, and I look down. “The ring? It was my grandmother’s. A family heirloom. I have no attachments.”

His easy smile is back. “Good.”

Good? I am reading him, right? Is he is interested in me, and this is not just him being the friendly person everyone says he is?

He stands up and walks to the bar in the room’s corner, the muscles on his back flex. I could pay good money to drag my nails down his back. He walks back with two wine glasses and a bottle opener. He sits in the same spot, but his legs are much closer to mine now. I can feel the heat of them warming my bare skin. My pencil skirt has risen a bit and stops just above my knees. His gaze takes in every inch of my exposed skin. And then travel up my body, lingering on my breasts. My nipples betray me by going hard and poking through my bra. The thin, silk, sky-blue bra I bought just yesterday which has no padding to hide my arousal because my girls are a generous C cup and padding makes them look even bigger.

His eyes darken, and he licks his lips. My horny imagination pictures him and his tongue between my legs. I squeeze my thighs together.

He opens the bottle and pours a glass and hands it to me.

I take it, squeezing the stem to keep my hand from shaking.

He fills his glass and clinks it to mine. “To chance encounters and what may come from it.”

He takes a sip, and I do the same. The sweet scent of the wine encases me. When it touches my tongue, I close my eyes, and I let the flavor sink into me. This is the best wine I have ever tasted. When I open my eyes, his wine glass is paused on his lips, and he is watching me with a hungry gaze. He drinks half of the glass, and his eyes never leave mine.

Holy shit. This is happening.

He takes my glass and sets it on the table, grabs both my hands in his. His hands are so big, mine disappear between them.

“Callie, I think you can tell I’m very attracted to you, and normally I would ask you on a date, get to know you better, have fun together before anything else happened between us. But my time in town is short, I leave tomorrow. We’re both adults and single. I would love nothing more than to have you spend the night with me.”

I swallow. “Spend the night?” Is this for real?

“I think you’re as attracted to me as I am to you.”

I open my mouth, but I have no idea what to say, and the only sound I’m capable of producing is a tiny whimper.

His thumbs draw gentle circles on the back of my hands. “I can see your nipples through two layers of fabric, and how you’re pressing your legs together right now tells me you are just as aroused as I am.”

He’s not wrong.

“What do you say, Callie? Do you want to stay and spend the night with me? And it’s okay if you say no. You can go and maybe I can see you again next time I’m in Manhattan. I won’t pressure you.”

My whole body is vibrating with need. I’m so wet already. I don’t even think I’d need foreplay. “I want to stay.” I do, more than anything, I want to stay with him and give myself this gift. One wild night.

He smiles, kisses the back of my hands, and sets them over my trembling knees. An eyebrow raised in question? “Are you sure?”

I nod my assent. I never do anything like this. My friends in college called me Sister Callie because I was always the responsible one, doing what’s right and expected of me. Not tonight. Tonight, I want to do something reckless. I want him.

He’s standing in front of me now. He takes my hands and pulls me up. My head barely reaching his shoulders. And that’s with the three-inch heels I’m wearing. He tugs at the clip holding my hair in a bun and tosses it to the table behind him. Then runs his fingers through my hair and arranges it around my shoulders. “Can I kiss you?”

I might die if he doesn’t. “Yes.” My voice is breathy, husky.

No sooner is the word out, his arms go around me. He surrounds me. He kisses the corners of my mouth and nibbles at my lips. A small gasp leaves me, and his tongue comes out to play. He tastes like rich red wine and lust. His huge hands cup my ass and bring me up and flush with him. Behind the denim, he’s hard and ready. He wraps my long hair in his hand and gives it a gentle tug. His lips go to my neck, and he traces the curve of my jaw and collarbone with his lips and tongue. I have never, ever been so turned on in my entire life.

He makes quick work of my blouse, and before I know it’s on the floor. Jayden walks backwards towards the bedroom. His mouth is on mine the entire time. He devours me. Jayden Reed has some serious tongue skills. The thought of his tongue somewhere else in my body makes even wetter, and I moan. He must like it because he groans back at me. I lose my skirt by the double French doors going into the bedroom, and my shoes go shortly after. I drag my hands down his back and his muscles flex under my touch. He’s so much bigger than me, he could easily overpower me, and yet I feel completely safe. He stops when my legs bump into the bed and reaches around me to pull down the covers. Thank goodness, no underwear stuck to the sheets this time. He steps back from me and takes his fill. His eyes gaze up and down my body. Two small pieces of fabric still left.

He unzips his pants, and they are off in a second. Oh mama, he is going commando. His cock springs free and mother of all dicks and cocks! That’s more cock in a single guy than my last three boyfriends combined. I have doubts about this, but my va-jay-jay is greedy, and I can practically hear her saying, ‘bring it on!’

He picks me up and tosses me on the bed like I’m made from nothing, and my 130 pounds doesn’t even register. He comes to the bed then. His knees on either side of my thighs. His hands find the hook on my bra, and he slides it off me. My breasts rise with each breath I take, and I am sucking air like I have been running a marathon. His hands find my breasts, and he cups them. His fingers pull at my nipples. He bends closer and sucks on one peak, and then the other.

“I love your tits. They’re the perfect size to fill my hands.” He plays with my breasts, sucking, biting, licking, and twisting my nipples until I’m so lost in lust that I think I could just come from it.

“You want to come?” He asks me.

“Yes.” I don’t recognize my own voice. Who’s this wanton woman writhing under him?

“Not yet. I haven’t even started with you.” His mouth closes on a breast while his huge hand squeezes the other. He is not gentle. Not at all, but he is not hurting me either. I like this. I like the intensity. I like being manhandled, and it surprises me. None of my previous lovers had been this intense, and that might explain my lack of orgasms in the past. I could always give myself one, but it is so much better if someone else can get me off. There is something about someone scratching my itch that feels way better than when I do it myself. It’s been a while since someone else got me off. Well over a year ago. Maybe even two.

He moves down my body, leaving a trail of kisses and nibbles. I rake my hands into his hair. It’s just long enough to grab on to.

He is licking his way down my belly, and my hips move up to meet his lips. When his mouth reaches the edge of my panties, I gasp. The sound of his chuckle vibrates on my skin. I expect him to pull down my underwear now, but he doesn’t. Instead, he positions himself between my legs, pushing my thighs open with his massive shoulders and sucks at me through the silk fabric of my panties.

He nibbles and licks at the edge of my panties and pulls them down with his teeth. He lifts my hips, then slides the fabric down, and I’m naked before him.

The hungry look is back. “I’m going to eat you, then I am going to fuck you and eat you some more. Now, spread those legs, and let me have that pretty little cunt of yours.”

My face burns with his words. No one has ever spoken to me like that. I don’t even get offended by the word cunt, which normally would irk me, but him saying it makes it sexy instead. This man I barely know has me twisted in so many ways in his more than capable hands. I am nothing but a puddle of lust. I let my legs fall back and he licks at me and swirls my clit until I can’t take it anymore. I take turns between tugging at his hair to pull him away from me and pulling his face closer. He is toying with me, bringing me all the way to the edge, and then pulling back just when I’m about to come.

He takes turns tongue fucking and finger fucking me, and I’m so ready to come that it borders on rage. “If you don’t make me come right now, I’m going to kick your ass,” I grit through my teeth.

He halts, a look of delighted surprise on his beautiful face, and a laugh bursts out of him. Then he puts two fingers back inside me and curls them, hitting that magical spot, and sucks on my clit at the same time. I explode. I’m coming so hard and so violently, it’s almost painful. He doesn’t let go. He keeps at it and the intensity makes me try to pull away, but he is having none of it, and I come again and again. When he finally lets me go, my body melts into the bed. I can’t move. I think I will have to stay here until next Tuesday, and it is only Wednesday. I’ve never had multiple orgasms before. I never even thought they were possible. He’s moving around me. Then the telltale sound of a foil wrapper being ripped. I muster enough energy to open one eye and catch him rolling the condom down his cock.

Holy shit! I forgot how big he is. “I don’t know about that. I don’t think it’s going to fit.”

“Don’t worry. You’re soaking wet. It will fit.”

He positions himself above me and guides my legs open with his knees. He grabs himself and pushes into my opening. He slides in, bit by bit, and I can feel every inch of his cock as he pushes in slowly. I love every second of it. He’s holding his weight off me. He’s so tall and muscular—he’d probably crush me if he let go. I want to touch him everywhere, and I have had little chance yet. I was too busy getting devoured by him and my brain was at a total loss when he had his fingers and tongue in me. But I touch him now, his shoulders and back, his arms—God bless weight training and gyms everywhere—I’m in love with his biceps.

He is increasing his speed now, building a tempo and letting me have it. I have never felt this full before. I didn’t think that I could come again, but there’s a tingle building low in my belly. “Not yet,” he tells me.

“What…oh…do you—oh, my God—mean not yet?”

He stops me from coming by pulling out. He’s off the bed and standing on the floor.

“No, no, no. Come back.”

He takes my ankles and pulls me to the edge of the bed, flips me over. I’m on my knees now, and he is taking me from behind, his hands squeezing my ass. I thought he filled me up before. I was wrong. He’s even deeper now.

He’s fucking me from behind, and he has me angled in such a way his balls are hitting my clit. I didn’t know that was possible.

He pumps into me at full speed now. He’s trembling behind me, his movements more erratic, desperate even. I’m so close. He reaches around my waist, and his fingers find my clit. He changes the angle of his hips, and it does something inside me.

I’m coming again. He grunts, and he is right there with me. It lasts forever and a day. He is still slowly pumping into me, even after we are both done. The only thing holding me up is his arm around my waist. When he finally stops, pulls out of me, I flop to the bed. He walks to the bathroom to get rid of the condom. Then the sound of water running. A minute later, he’s back. He grabs the pillows that end up all over the floor and sets them against the massive headboard. He lies down and pulls my limp body on his chest, brushes my wild hair away from my face, kisses me on the forehead.

“Now that we got that out of the way, I would like to get to know you, Callie.”

CHAPTER TWO

I’M naked and half-sprawled on top of him. My breaths finally getting to a normal rate. He did all the work, but he barely broke a sweat, and his breath is even. I guess I have to up my workouts. He runs his hands through my hair, combing his fingers through the matts from our … what do I even call it? Sex is too bland a word to describe what just happened. Fuckery bliss? I’m in a state of fuckery bliss. That is what I’ll call it. I’m exhausted, so fully satiated I have no words to describe it. My body cools down, and a shiver runs down my back. He wraps an arm around my waist, holding me closer, and pulls the blanket over our bodies. Adrenaline is gone, and my body relaxes into the after-effects of all the orgasms he gave me. I’m a little tender between my legs, and the muscles in my stomach ache like I did a hundred sit-ups.

My eyes are heavy with sleep. I worked a 12-hour shift today, and after that glass of wine on an empty stomach and four orgasms, I have nothing left in me. His warm body wraps around me, lulling me to sleep, and the night claims me. I think he just said something, but I’m too far gone to register it.

WHEN I STIR AWAKE, the first thing I notice is how comfortable I am. My bed never felt this good. I must be dreaming still. The second thing that filters into my sleepy state is the warm and wet touch of lips on my spine. The tip of a tongue tracing down the arch of my back, fingers light as feathers tracing the curve of my butt. My skin pricks in anticipation, my stomach dips, and my thighs squeeze together. The sweet ache in my center tells me my body wants more. As I open my eyes, the last wisp of sleep leaves me. The room is in shadows. Amber light from the living room filters in through the French doors, casting shapes on the walls.

His hands trace the side of my hip and down my thighs and legs. He positions himself, so that my right leg is pushed up, and he settles between my legs on his knees.

I suck in a breath and release it with a moan. “Hmm, I don’t know what you’re doing to me, but for fuck’s sake. Do. Not. Stop.”

He chuckles and responds with kisses over my bare skin and a nibble on my ass that has me giggling and jumping. He stays me with his hands on my hips and continues his exploration of my body. Hands, lips, tongue, and teeth, all take turns over my back, butt, thighs. He licks the back of a knee, and I moan. I don’t think anyone ever even touched me there before. Who knew it would feel this good?

He continues his exploration in excruciatingly slow steps, mapping my body—a touch, a kiss, a lick at a time. I’m so aroused, I find myself grinding into the mattress, but its softness denies me the friction I need.

“Shh.” His voice is low. “I know what you want. Don’t worry, you’ll get it.”

I don’t know how much longer I can wait. I’m about to take matters into my own hands, literally, and that’s something I have never done with a guy watching before, but I’m beyond shame or embarrassment right now. I’ve never felt this needy, and I can’t even blame it on the wine this time. It’s all him. It’s all Jayden Reed.

When he’s had enough of exploring my back, he turns me over. I’m facing him now and I no longer have the cover of the white cotton sheets to hide me. I take in the golden tint of his tanned skin, the broad shoulders, the way his stomach muscles contract as he takes a deep breath. I love the band of veins around the muscles in his arms. He’s the most beautiful man I have even been with, and part of me is thrilled, but another part is disappointed in myself.

Would I be in this bed right now if he was not Jayden Reed? If it was any other man who looked exactly like him, would I have had sex with him? The realization needles me because I don’t know. I’m not this woman. I’m not a groupie or a cleat chaser. We’ve had plenty of famous people in the hotel. Movie stars, rock stars, politicians, and even a prince or two. I’ve never felt the slightest inclination to have sex with any of them. Shame washes over me.

He frowns. “What is it?”

I pull the sheet up to my chest and cover myself. “I shouldn’t be here. I have to go.”

He sits back on his knees, his cock standing proudly between us. My gaze goes to it, and I look away. When I meet his eyes again, his gaze is gentle, caring. The lust is gone from his face. The only indicator of his arousal is the erection he’s still sprouting.

“What is it? What happened? Did I hurt you?”

I press my lips together and hold the sheet to my chest tighter as I sit up. He probably already forgot my name.

“Callie?” The single word proves me wrong.

I look away. How can I explain what’s happening when I don’t understand it myself?

“Callie, look at me. What is it? What did I do? Did I hurt you?”

I force myself to meet his eyes. “No, you didn’t hurt me. It’s fine. I should go. I shouldn’t be here. That’s all.”

He doesn’t say a word when he steps off the bed and pulls his jeans on. I watch from the corner of my eye as he zips himself up, leaving the button undone. He walks to the side of the bed and sits on it.

There’s something sad about him. “You regret this.” It’s not a question.

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Do I? Do I regret being with him? No. I don’t. I loved every minute. I regret I will be just another fuck for him. One of dozens, hundreds, thousands maybe. What did I expect? Pictures of him on the gossip magazines and online always have a different girl in them. They’re all gorgeous. Gorgeous and models. I guess that’s the type of girl he’s used to being with. All young and beautiful models. And I’m just a regular girl, carrying a few extra pounds. I’m far from the women he’s used to, and the thought intimidates me. I’m substitute pussy. Third string at best. And this bites at me. That lust got the best of me, and I thought … I don’t know what I thought. I allowed myself to be just another notch on his bedpost. Someone soon to be forgotten.

He nods, presses his lips together. The corners of his mouth turn downward. “I’m sorry you regret being with me. Did I—did you feel pressured into being with me? Did I push you into doing something you didn’t want to?”

Did he? He was forward, yes, but I didn’t feel forced into having sex with him. I wanted to. “No.” I shake my head for emphasis. “That’s not it. I didn’t feel coerced into having sex with you. Not at all.”

He looks uncertain. I reach to him and touch his arm. Muscles flex under my touch. “I don’t regret it.”

“You said you did.” There’s no accusation in his voice, just concern.

“I know. But I didn’t mean it like that.” His tense shoulders relax a bit, but not by much. I look around the room as if the walls could give me the right words to explain what I mean and not look like an idiot. I decide on the truth. I have never been good at making up excuses on the fly, always got in trouble growing up. I could never lie well enough to get away with anything. Pathetic, I know.

“I don’t regret being with you. I don’t regret anything we did. I liked it. I more than liked it, and I think my reactions showed that.” I pause to gather my thoughts. He stays silent. Waiting for me. He’s trying to read my face for the truth or lie in my words.

“I’m upset, not because of anything you did wrong, but because it was amazing, and none of it means anything to you. I’m nobody. Just another woman you took to bed, and as soon as I leave here, I’ll be forgotten. I regret knowing I won’t matter.”

He narrows his eyes at me. Thoughts crossing his mind. He must think I’m nuts.

“Oh, gosh, this is not coming out right. I’m not expecting a marriage proposal.” I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “I’m not expecting anything, really. It’s just that I don’t do this. I have never jumped into bed with someone I just met. I don’t engage in any kind of personal relations with guests. This is extremely unprofessional of me, and I could be fired over this—”

He stops me then, with a slight hand gesture.

“Okay, let me get this straight. You are okay with what happened, but it bothers you how fast it happened?”

I nod.

“You’re concerned that being with me will get you into trouble because of your job?”

I nod again.

“And you’re also upset because you think me being with you is so meaningless to me that as soon as you leave this room, I will forget you ever existed and all that happened between us tonight. Did I get it right?”

I hesitate. Yes, that is exactly right, and it makes me feel so stupid hearing him repeat my words back to me. Most girls would be ecstatic and tweeting about it with pictures as proof it really happened and not give a damn if Jayden Reed remembered them or not.

I find my voice again. “Yeah, that about sums it up. I didn’t come to your room looking for sex. I didn’t even know it was you until you opened the door. I was told that a Mr. Reed had a complaint, and its hotel policy to have the manager on duty address issues in the presidential suites and the penthouses. It took me a minute to realize who you were when you opened the door. I feel so stupid now.” I clutch the sheets closer to my chest. Being the only one naked in this conversation doesn’t make it any easier.

“Would it make you feel better if I told you I saw you before today and had my eyes on you?”

Wait, what? “What do you mean?”

He smiles, and it makes him look younger. “I saw you yesterday morning when I checked in. You didn’t see me. You were talking to a famous actor, I forget his name, and your smile captivated me. I thought you were with him. I hung out in the lobby for a while watching you. Then I saw you go behind the front desk, and I knew you worked here. I wanted to talk to you, but I had meetings all day and was already running late. I thought of asking about you, but didn’t want to be like a creep. Imagine my surprise when there’s a knock on my door and there you were. I thought it was a gift from the universe. And I never question gifts from the universe.”

My mouth is hanging open the whole time he’s speaking. I close it and try to wrap my mind around what he just said. It’s true, I welcomed an A-lister yesterday morning. “You saw me? Yesterday?”

“Yes.”

“And my smile captivated you? Why?”

He runs a hand through his bed-hair. “Because it was so real.”

I frown. “And other people’s smiles aren’t real?”

He shrugs. “They used to be before I was famous and rich. Money and fame change the perception people have of you. They behave differently.”

“I guess I can see that. People changing, I mean.”

He smirks. “I also wanted to get you in my bed, but I was planning on buying you dinner first.”

At the mention of dinner, my belly growls. Loud enough to register a 3.5 on the Richter scale.

He laughs, and I blush.

“Looks like I still owe you dinner.” He grabs the phone from the nightstand. “Burger and fries?”

I nod, at a loss for words.

He places the order and adds two Cokes to it. He walks to his luggage, sitting on a chaise, and grabs a t-shirt. Walks back to the bed and tugs the shirt over my head. I let go of the sheets and fit my arms through.

He pulls my hair from under the collar, tucks a lock behind my ear. “Are we good?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. I feel stupid. I don’t know how to do this.”

“No, you’re not stupid. Don’t say that. I should apologize. I came on too strong. When I saw you standing at the door with a bottle of wine, all I could think was that I was the luckiest SOB in Manhattan. I was sure I’d be leaving and not see you or even find out your name. Can we just be two people having a bite to eat and getting to know each other?”

I’m stunned. “I think I can do that.”

He plops on the bed next to me and turns on the TV. “What do you want to watch while we wait for the food?”

I have no idea. My brain is whirling. “You pick.”

He finds an episode of Friends, and we watch it like we’ve done this a thousand times before.

A KNOCK on the door makes me jump. “They can’t see me here.”

“No worries. No one will see you.”

The layout of the suite allows me to hear but not be seen unless the staff comes into the living room to set the table.

Jayden opens the door, and the waiter offers to set the table for him and his companion.

“No, thanks. No companion. Just me and I’m starving. I can do it myself.”

The door clicks locked a moment later.

“You can come out now. The coast is clear.”

I walk into the main living area, and he has pushed the cart near the sofa in which I sat earlier. Two covered platters on the coffee table. He pours the sodas into the glasses. “Come. Let’s eat while it’s warm.”

His shirt stops mid-thigh on me, and I’m very aware I have no panties on. It requires some maneuvering to sit and not to flash him. The smell of the burger and fries makes my mouth salivate. My belly grumbles again.

We eat in silence for a few minutes.

“Can we start over?” Jayden asks.

“Start over?”

“Yeah. I really don’t go around picking up strangers to fuck.”

I take a bite of my burger, raising an eyebrow in clear disbelief.

“I don’t.” He takes a sip from his drink.

I chew, swallow. “You don’t have to pick them up. They come to you.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. Well, they come to me, but I don’t automatically sleep with every woman that knocks on my door.”

“No?”

“No. Believe it or not, I’m picky.”

“I guess I should feel special.” My voice is dripping with sarcasm.

He tilts his head at me as if in reproach of my answer. “It’s true. I have always been very picky.”

“I guess when you are rich and famous and have women throw themselves at you, you can be picky.” I’m angry at myself and at the bullshit line about being picky that he’s trying to feed me. I take a big bite of my burger before I say something that will leave me naked in the hall and locked out of his room.

“You don’t believe me.” He seems genuinely surprised I don’t believe him.

“I have no reason to lie.”

“Every time I see a picture or you, you have a different girl on your arm. Or a different model, or movie star, I should say.”

“That’s just media stuff. Free publicity.”

“Sure, and you fucked none of them.” I roll my eyes. Why am I acting like a jealous girlfriend?

“I’ve dated some of them. Sometimes there was sex, sometimes not. I certainly didn’t fuck them all.”

“You know, never mind. It is none of my business. I’ll consider myself lucky to be chosen and one day, I’ll tell this story to my grandkids.”

He studies me for a long minute. “You’re mean, when you’re hungry. Eat.”

I’m about to deny it, but he’s right. I get mean when I’m hungry, and I have eaten nothing since lunch, some twelve hours ago. So, I shut up, and do as he says and finish everything on my plate.

“Feel better?” He’s sitting on the other side of the leather couch. His legs stretched in front of him.

I drink the last sip of my Coke before I answer him. “I do. Thank you.”

He looks at me for a long moment and sighs, pulls both legs up and crosses them under him. He’s so tall, his legs so long, he looks awkward and not entirely comfortable in that position. He leans his elbows on his knees, steeples his fingers and clasps his hands, then rests his chin on them. “Before, when I said that I wanted to get to know you, I wasn’t lying. It wasn’t just a line to get you in my bed. And you were there already, so I didn’t have to say or do anything else. I meant it. I’m smitten by you.”

Smitten? “What does that mean?”

“I want to see you again.”

His words don’t really register. He wants to see me? Or does he mean he wants to fuck me one more time before sending me away and never thinking of me again?

“You have that confused look on your face again. Tell me, what’s going on in your head this time?”

“What do you mean, you want to see me?”

“Exactly that. Go on a proper date. Do the things couples do when they are getting to know each other.”

I can’t wrap my brain around what he’s saying. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you want to know me? I’m nobody. You rub elbows with models, and movie stars, and athletes. I’m just a hotel manager. Nowhere near as beautiful as the women you are used to. You’re completely out of my league. We don’t fit together.”

“First, you are not nobody or just anything. Second, you are a beautiful woman who got my attention from the first time I saw you. Third, you are not out of my league because I don’t have a league. Never did. Never will. You are here because somehow, someone’s underwear ended stuck to the sheets in my bed. I don’t know whose panties they were, but I’m eternally grateful to her for leaving them behind because it brought you to my door. Just when I thought I would not get the chance to meet you, you showed up. And finally, we fit perfectly together, and if you already forgot how perfect we fit, I’ll gladly show you again.”

My face burns at his mention of us fitting perfectly. Not what I had in mind, but he took it there. I can’t wrap my mind around the fact that he is interested in me. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes. Say we can get to know each other better.”

“How? You don’t even live in New York.”

“We can talk, we can text, we can Skype, FaceTime. I’m in New York often enough that I can get to see you in person at least a few times a month. In fact, I already have a trip back here booked for next week. It’s for two days, but I can extend it over the weekend. Say yes, Callie. Say you’ll go on a date with me.”

“An actual date?” If disbelief had physical weight, I would weigh a ton right now.

“Yes, an actual date. Why is it so hard to believe I want to go on a date with you?”

“I don’t know.” Because I am me, and he’s Jayden Reed. That’s why.

“Go out with me, or I’ll buy a dozen pairs of underwear and plant them all over the room, so you’ll have to come up and apologize each time I call to complain.”

I laugh. I can picture him doing just that. Mischief and hope dance in his eyes. “Okay, I’ll go on a date with you.” Something inside me breaks free. I feel giddy. But I tamper it down. Better not get my hopes up. Less disappointment later. A lot can happen between now and when he comes back.

CHAPTER THREE

Six Months Later

JAYDEN IS asleep next to me. We have one more day together before he has to fly back to Houston. But like always, I awaken in a panic in the middle of the night again. Searching for him in the dark, listening for his breath to make sure he’s still here. I hate the night before he has to leave. Hate this sense of doom. What if this is the last time I see him? What if the next text is a breakup message?

Everything has been so perfect. How long can it possibly last?

That first week when he came back wasn’t just one date. It was a half a dozen dates, squeezed into four days. He extended his visit, and I took a couple of days off. One week turned into two, and then into three, and they added up. The long-distance relationship and seeing him only a few times a month leave me unsure, even with the ridiculous number of calls, texts, and FaceTime we do. Everything is perfect when he’s here with me, but as soon as he leaves, the doubt sets in.

Stalking his Instagram feed makes it even worse. Seeing him with gorgeous women, modeling his sportswear, hits me hard. I keep thinking at some point he’s going to tire of me or tired of spending hours on a plane every week and thousands in hotel stays. Add to that, him being secretive about his reasons to visit New York so often, and the little, ugly voice in my head is getting louder and louder.

Jayden turns on his side with a soft snore. I close my eyes, push the thoughts away, and try to fall back asleep.

“GOOD MORNING, SLEEPING BEAUTY.” A kiss on my forehead follows the greeting. “I already ordered coffee and breakfast.”

I cover the bottom half of my face with the sheet and mumble a good morning back at him.

He drags the sheets off me, exposing my naked body. His hand wraps around my ankles and travels up to my side in a soft caress. “Come on. Get up, get in the shower, and get dressed. We have places to be today.”

Ah, yes. He said as much last night. That he wanted to show me something today, but he wouldn’t tell me what.

“You joining me?”

He smiles. “Not today. I already showered.”

He did. His hair is damp, and he’s already dressed in jeans and a long-sleeve shirt. One from his clothing line. Maybe that breakup will come in person instead of a text message. I shut down the ugly little voice. We are here now, and I’m going to enjoy being with him for as long as I can. Don’t borrow tomorrow’s troubles and all that. I walk to the enormous bathroom in the suite and turn on the shower.

THE UBER DROPS us off on Fifth Avenue near one of the entrances for Central Park. Jayden takes my hand as we cross the street. A doorman welcomes us into an opulent building. White and gray marble under our feet. Soft music playing in the background. A chandelier hangs from the high ceiling. I slow my steps, trying to take everything in. “Where are we?”

He tugs at my hand, and we stop at a bank of elevators. “You’ll see.”

When we get into the elevator, he swipes a keycard, and the top floor lights up. The penthouse.

The elevator opens to a foyer, the same white and gray marble floors.

Jaden unlocks the single door and pushes it open. Excitement dances in his eyes. “Come and see.”

I step through the door and my mouth drops open. The wide-open space houses a large living room, a dining area, and a modern kitchen to my right. It’s beautifully decorated. Modern, clean lines, but also homey and inviting. Dark hardwood floors and area rugs, warm the space. But that’s not what has me gaping. It’s the view. I walk farther into the room, my steps taking me to the floor-to-ceiling glass panels that invite the outside in. Central Park is visible below, the yellows and oranges of an early fall like a living picture, framed by the wall-to-wall windows.

He comes up behind me, his hands on my shoulders. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful. I could just sit here and watch the park all day.” I imagine what it would be like throughout the different seasons. I get a glimpse of fall now. But what would it look like in winter, everything white, and then spring filled with flowers, and summer vibrant greens?

He takes my hand. “Come, there’s more.”

I follow him on legs that feel like Jell-O. “What’s this place?”

We walk down a hall. “There’s five bedrooms, and they all have their own bathroom.”

He shows me the empty bedrooms. “They’re all empty for now. Except for the master bedroom.”

“The master?” I repeat like it’s a foreign word. I don’t understand why we’re here. My brain is sluggish and refuses to process whatever is happening.

“Here.” He lets go of my hand to open the double-doors.

I walk into the room. The same huge windows facing the park. On the opposing wall sits a king-sized four-post bed. They decorated the room in shades of gray with deep, red accents. A fireplace to one side and more doors to the other.

“Through those doors there’s a walking-in-closet and the master bathroom. You’re gonna love it, it’s even bigger than the one at the hotel.”

I walk in a circle, taking everything in. The place is absolutely beautiful, something out of a dream. I look at him. “I don’t understand. Why are we here? Who owns this place?”

He stands in front of me. Takes my face in both of his hands and kisses me. Smiles like a little boy on Christmas morning. “I do. It’s my place now. I bought it.”

“What? Why?”

“I’m moving to New York.”

Hope is a butterfly fluttering its wings in my chest. “You are? What about your company?”

“I’m moving it here, too.”

I hold on to his arms, lock my knees in place. My legs shaking. “How? Why?” I’m not capable of more than single word questions right now.

“The truth? For a while now, I’ve felt that the great state of Texas is out of alignment with my personal beliefs, and the vison I have for my company. I’ve been visiting different states sounding out locations. It was a toss between California and New York.”

“And you chose New York?” That flutter in my chest is multiplying.

“I chose New York because of you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you are the tipping point. I chose New York because I hate every single minute I’m away from you. It will take a few more months to finalize the company move. But until then …” He pulls a card from his back pocket and gives it to me.

“What is it?”

“A keycard. For the elevator and this place. I want you to move in with me.”

I try to speak, but no words come out. My mind is a jumble of thoughts.

He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “I’m tired of hotel living, and you worrying about your job. I want to come home and find you here. I want to cook together and fall asleep on the couch reading a book next to you. I want to watch the seasons go by outside those windows with you by my side. So please, say you’ll move in with me.”

Tears prickle at my eyes and wash away every doubt and fear I have. “Yes. Yes, I’ll move in with you.”

He wipes the corners of my eyes. “Thank God. I was so scared you’d say no.”

I smile through my tears. “I could never say no to you.”

He pulls me closer, his lips against my ear. “That’s good to know. Because in a year or so, I’ll ask you to marry me.”

About the Author

Erica Alexander dreamed of being a writer her entire life.

She lives in New Jersey with her husband, two teenage sons, two cats, a dog. When she’s not writing, Erica likes to read, bake, watch Netflix and Prime marathons. She’s currently trying to make friends with the skunk who live in her backyard.

Find Erica at:

Website

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HIS WRONG NUMBER

A NORTHERN CALIFORNIA COWBOYS STORY

ERIN PARISIEN

CHAPTER ONE

Unknown number: It was great meeting you tonight.

Lea: I think you have the wrong number.

Unknown number: This is Drew. From the pub. You gave me your number.

Lea: Sorry. Still the wrong number.

Unknown number: You’re not Diane I take it.

Lea: Nope. *sad face emoji*

Unknown number: Sorry to bother you.

Lea: Sorry she gave you a fake number. *sad face emoji x3*

Unknown number: Me, too. Clearly I didn’t make the impression I thought I had.

Lea: Well, I appreciate that you text in full sentences and know the difference between your and you’re, so I’m impressed.

Unknown number: I don’t want to say you might be easy to please, but… *shrugging emoji* *laughing emoji*

Lea: Hey! I was trying to be supportive. Build up your ego, which has clearly taken a hit tonight.

Unknown number: I think I’m starting to see why Diane blew me off.

Lea: Aww, now don’t take it to heart. She clearly didn’t realize what she was passing up on.

Unknown number: And what is that? *thinking emoji*

Lea: A guy with great grammar?

Unknown number: *laughing emoji* Is that a question?

Lea: *laughing emoji*

Unknown number: Thanks for keeping me company on my ride home.

Lea: You’re welcome. I’m sorry your night didn’t end how you were hoping.

Unknown number: I don’t know about that. I’m thinking it ended pretty perfectly *smile emoji*

Lea: Diane is clearly a fool.

Unknown number: *shrugging emoji*

Lea: I’m Lea, by the way.

Unknown number: Goodnight, Lea.

Lea: Night.

ONE MONTH LATER

Lea: I have a confession.

Drew: Yeah?

Leah: I found you on social media *frown emoji*

Drew: OK

Lea: I wasn’t stalking you or anything, I promise.

Drew: OK

Lea: That’s it?

Drew: Yeah???

Lea: You’re not freaked out?

Drew: Why? Isn’t the point to socialize with other people online?

Lea: *tongue sticking out emoji*

Drew: This also assumes I haven’t found you on social media.

Lea: *side eye emoji*

Drew: *shrugging emoji*

Lea: Why didn’t you send me a friend request?

Drew: *shrugging emoji*

Drew: Why didn’t you send me one?

Lea: Why didn’t you tell me you’re in the Army?

Drew: You never asked.

Lea: *side eye emoji*

Drew: LOL. Any plans for tonight?

Lea: Nope. Gotta work in the morning. Breakfast shift comes early.

Drew: Gotta?

Lea: I was trying something new.

Drew: It’s not working.

Lea: *tongue sticking out emoji*

Lea: Goodnight, grammar police.

Drew: Night.

A FEW MONTHS LATER

Drew: How did the interview go?

Drew: I’m still waiting… *clock emoji* *flat mouth emoji*

Drew: Come on. Don’t leave me hanging here! I’ve been waiting all day.

Lea: LOL! It’s not my fault you live all the way on the other side of the country. It’s only 2:00pm here.

Drew: Now you’re just quibbling.

Lea: Quibbling?

Drew: *eye roll emoji* *flat mouth emoji*

Lea: What? I’m just saying it was a choice, that’s all… *angel emoji*

Drew: And now you’re dodging!

Lea: The interview went great. The principal and I really vibed. She was great and seemed to like me. Nothing’s confirmed, but…

Drew: Fuck yeah! I knew you’d kill it.

Lea: *blush emoji*

Drew: That school is about to get their best teacher ever.

Lea: *blush emoji X3*

Drew: You know it’s true.

Lea: Stop! You’re seriously making me blush.

Drew: I bet you’re cute when you blush.

Lea: *eye roll emoji*

Drew: LOL!

Lea: I’ve got to get back to work. Talk soon.

Drew: Bye!

A FEW MONTHS LATER

Lea: I don’t know what to say. Good luck doesn’t seem right.

Drew: It’ll be fine. I promise.

Lea: How can you say that? You’re being deployed to a war zone!!!

Drew: Because that’s my job.

Lea: I know. And that makes you amazing.

Drew: You’re going to make ME blush.

Lea: Please be careful.

Drew: I’ll do everything in my power to come back in one piece *wink emoji*

Lea: Please don’t joke about this.

Drew: I’ll be careful, I promise. Does that mean you’re going to miss me?

Lea: Every day. I wish I could hug you goodbye.

Drew: Me too, Beautiful.

Lea: Talk soon?

Drew: As soon as I’m able.

CHAPTER TWO

A FEW MONTHS LATER

Drew: Hey, Beautiful.

Lea: WHY ARE YOU TEXTING ME RIGHT NOW?

Lea: YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE AVAILABLE!!!

Lea: IS EVERYTHING OK?

Drew: I’m okay.

Lea: What’s going on?

Drew: We were on our way into town and we hit an IED

LEA’S HEART slammed into her throat so hard, she could barely breathe. Reaching back, she blindly searched for the seat while staring at her phone screen. An IED. They hit an IED.

She sank onto the sofa, her finger pressing the call button. It was the first time she’d ever called him, but she needed to hear his voice, needed to know he was really okay. Anytime the possibility of them actually speaking had come up, she’d managed to put him off. She wasn’t sure why, just that the idea of talking to him would change things.

But she needed to hear his voice. Now.

“Hey, Beautiful. You’ve never called me before.” His voice was surprisingly deep. The kind of deep that would feel like a caress, if the right words were spoken. He sounded exhausted, and not a little defeated.

“Well, you’ve never been in an IED attack before.” Her voice came out shaky. Probably because she was shaking like her family’s dog during the fireworks on the Fourth of July.

He sighed, and she felt it in her bones. “And I never want to be again.” His voice turned ragged. “I’ve never…” He cleared his throat. “I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

“What happened?” She pulled her knees into her chest.

“We were heading out. Everything was quiet, no issues. It had been quiet for a couple days, which was a nice change. I should have known that all fuck was about to break loose.” He laughed, but it was hollow and humorless.

She stayed silent, unsure of what to say.

“Next thing I know, there’s this massive boom and we’re flying. It’s all a fucking blur to be honest.”

She licked her lips, dreading the next question. “Did… did… was everyone…” Shit. Why couldn’t she say it?

“No one was killed.” He blew out a breath, and she let go of the one burning her lungs. “But my CO was injured. Badly.”

Her entire body ached for both Drew and his CO. She wanted desperately to tell him it would be okay, that things would work out, but she couldn’t make those kinds of promises. “Are they going to be alright?”

“I think so, but the higher ups aren’t being really forthcoming with information. The truck caught fire, and he got burned, I think. But I’m sure there were other injuries, too.”

A tear slid down her cheek and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. “Are you okay?” Her voice was watery, but she couldn’t help it.

“Shit, maybe?” He laughed again, the same sad sound. Another tear slid down her cheek. Followed by another and then another. “I think I broke something in my hand, and I’ve got a bunch of bruises. Probably won’t be able to move tomorrow.”

“Oh, Drew, I’m so sorry.” A sob escaped.

“Don’t cry, Beautiful. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“I’m the one who’s supposed to be saying that to you.” She sniffled, willing the tears to stop.

He chuckled, the sound tired and only somewhat upbeat. The murmur of other voices came through in the background. Drew said something, but it was too muffled for her to hear. He must have put his hand over the phone.

She wiped the tears off her face with the back of her hand, and blew out a couple of deep breaths. Her heart was still lodged firmly in her throat, but at least she could breathe.

“Sorry, Beautiful, but I’ve got to go.”

“Okay.” Her voice wobbled.

“It was great to hear your voice.”

“Call me as soon as you can.”

“I will. I promise.”

CHAPTER THREE

A FEW MONTHS LATER

DREW PRESSED the call button on the computer. His hands were ridiculously sweaty, so he wiped them on his pants. He’d like to blame the oppressive heat, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to convince himself that was the case. At least not entirely.

Lea had finally agreed to do a video call with him. She’d always previously resisted, quick with an excuse as to why she couldn’t. Her tablet was about to die, she wasn’t going to be at her place, her camera wasn’t working properly. He hadn’t pushed, even though video chat was the best, most stable way to communicate with people back home, because clearly it made her uncomfortable. He’d just hoped that one day she’d trust him enough to say yes.

Today was that day.

The screen flickered and then she appeared. The feed wasn’t great, the picture a little grainy, but his pulse kicked up all the same. It was also really dim on her end, almost like she was sitting in the dark, but it didn’t stop his gaze from roving over her beautiful face.

“Hello, Beautiful.” His cheeks ached with how big his smile was.

“Hi.” She tucked a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. “How are you?”

He leaned forward. “I’m good, especially now that I get to see you when we talk.”

“I don’t know why seeing me is such a big deal. I’m just plain old me.”

He made a sound in the back of his throat. “There is nothing plain about you.”

She rolled her dark brown eyes and he laughed. No one had ever met had made him laugh the way Lea did. She was funny and sweet and so damn smart. He loved talking to her, even though sometimes, he felt like an idiot. But she never made him feel that way, was always interested in his thoughts and opinions. Never talked down to him even though she was way more educated.

“How’s your hand?”

He flexed his fingers for the camera, letting her off the hook about the blatant topic change. “Good. No permanent damage.”

“That’s good.” Her gaze danced around, like she didn’t quite know where to look. He’d never admit it out loud, but he was feeling the same bit of nerves.

“How’s work?” It was the most boring topic, and they were way beyond such stupid small talk, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

She gave him a genuine smile. The kind that lit up her face. And damn near knocked him on his ass. “It’s good. I survived my first official field trip without losing anyone, so I’m taking it as a win.”

He chuckled. “I’m glad everyone was alive and accounted for.”

“You and me both. I’d hate to have to explain to a parent how a trip to the farm could go so horribly wrong. ‘I’m sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Little Billy was there, and then the next minute, he was gone. We think there might have been an incident with the pigs, but without any witnesses, we can’t be sure.’”

He laughed at her valley girl imitation, warmth spreading through him. She was so damn cute. “Thankfully there was no need to call in search and rescue.”

“Can you imagine?” She widened her eyes to comical proportions. “I can hear the whispers now. ‘That’s the one, the teacher who let Billy Smith get eaten by rogue pigs at the farm. We should shun her.’” This time she imitated a snooty, high-pitched person.

He laughed again. She was so ridiculously cute. And there was a part of him that wanted to tell her he was attracted to her. But he couldn’t, because why would someone like her be interested in a lunkhead like him? She was so smart and accomplished. He swallowed down the confession before he could embarrass himself.

“I’m sorry, Drew, but I’ve got to go.” One side of her mouth ticked down.

The disappointment that crashed through him was massive and unexpected. He bit the inside of his cheek to stop from saying something stupid, like begging her not to go. He cleared his throat. “Got a hot date?” Maybe she wouldn’t notice the weirdness sin his voice.

“Ugh, yeah?” She screwed up her mouth. “Well, not really.”

Jealousy turned his world green. He didn’t trust himself to say anything, so he tilted his head and gave her what he hoped was a questioning look.

“My mom set me up on a lunch date with some guy from her church, and I couldn’t get out of it. So, now I have to go and get ready and stuff.” She stuck out her tongue and made a face.

Some of his tension evaporated, although not all of it. Just because she didn’t pick this guy didn’t mean they couldn’t hit it off. Was it wrong to hope it went terrible? He’d been a good guy for most of his life, he deserved something to go his way.

“Well, have fun.” His voice was still strained, and he silently cursed himself for being such a doofus.

“I doubt it, but thanks.” The smile she tossed him was so beautiful, he could barely breathe. “Same time next week?”

“It’s a date.” His smile felt so phony he was convinced she’d never buy it. “I’ll let you know if something comes up and I can’t make it.”

“Okay.” She waved and ended the connection.

Drew cut the feed, envy churning through him. Which was dumb because it wasn’t like Lea had ever hinted she was interested in him in that way. They were friends, nothing more. And he’d better get used to that fact. No matter how disappointing.

CHAPTER FOUR

SIX MONTHS LATER

LEA PUSHED the answer button on the incoming video call. Drew popped up on the screen and she couldn’t help but smile. “Hey, you.”

The connection was crappy, and the video flickered. “Hey, Beautiful. Ho… are… ou?”

“I’m good. Just finished setting up my classroom today, so that’s good.” She shifted on the sofa, getting comfortable.

“Nice.” He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. It was probably more than a hundred degrees in Afghanistan. If she was there, she’d be nothing but a puddle on the floor. “You’re go…ing to … great.”

Her heart fluttered at the compliment. He was always so supportive, her biggest cheerleader. “Now that I’ve got a full year under my belt, I think this one will go much better.”

Not that last year had been bad, it just hadn’t been great. She seemed to always be playing catch up and never really felt like she’d gotten her feet under her. This year, she’d vowed, would be better.

“I ha… no …oubt you’ll k…ill it.”

Her heart did another flutter, this one big enough to make her breath stutter. He had to stop being so charming. She was already harboring a massive crush. And him being so damn sweet was not helping her get her head out of the clouds. Nothing was ever going to come of it. She wasn’t an idiot. People as handsome as Drew were never interested in bookish, plus-sized girls like her.

Time for a subject change before she made a fool of herself. “So, how many days left now?”

The smile he threw her was dazzling, even over the crappy connection. “Less than a mon…th …ow. Not that I’m count…ing or anything.”

Her fluttering heart shriveled to dust. Their unconventional relationship was fine while he was overseas. It somewhat made sense for him to keep in touch with her, considering that most of his communications were electronic. But once he was discharged, he could get back to his regular life, which meant no more late-night text sessions, or silly early morning phone calls.

“I’m so happy for you.” She tried to keep her voice upbeat, although she wasn’t sure she managed it.

In typical Drew fashion, he didn’t seem to notice. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m proud of my service, but I am looking forward to heading home. It’ll be nice to see my old friends and stuff. My mom has already started planning the welcome home party.”

She smiled, although it felt brittle, like one wrong twitch and it would crumble right off her face. “That’s awesome.” Her voice cracked, and she covered it up with a cough.

“So, what else is new with you? We haven’t chatted in a bit.” He looked at her expectantly, completely oblivious.

She rolled her eyes. “We just texted yesterday.”

“Yeah, but that was text. I couldn’t see your beautiful face.”

She blew him a raspberry. He didn’t really mean it. No one ever really meant it. Even the people that were supposed to love her unconditionally always thought up ways she could be better, or more attractive. “Nothing else is new here.”

“How can I live vicariously through you if you don’t do anything fun?”

She shrugged. “That’s what you get for hitching your wagon to a homebody.”

He laughed, the sound rich and deep even over the connection. Warmth bloomed in her chest, and she couldn’t stop the corners of her mouth from ticking up. Why did he have to be so amazing?

“Nothing wrong with being a homebody, Beautiful. I spent many a night on my couch watching movies or playing video games. Looking forward to doing a whole lot of nothing when I get back. At least for a little while.”

She nodded, and forced the smile to stay on her face. Every cell in her body screamed for her to flirt with him, ask if he wanted a cuddling companion on that couch while he did a whole lot of nothing. But she couldn’t. She wasn’t exceptionally great at flirting to begin with, and trying to do it over a video call while the government listened in was just a disaster waiting to happen.

Besides, how would that even work? He was heading home to Massachusetts, and she was in Northern California. They weren’t even in the same time zone, let alone the same zip code. The idea of anything actually happening between them was ridiculous. For both geographical and not so geographical reasons.

He held up a finger, and then pressed the mute button. There were often interruptions and distractions during their chats, so she was used to it. He turned his head so he could speak to someone, and she marveled at the line of his jaw. The long column of his throat. She wondered what his brown skin would feel like against her fingertips. Against her lips.

Heat flared inside her, and her cheeks burned. No doubt she was bright red. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice.

She really needed to stop because she was going to get hurt. This wasn’t the first time she’d had an unrequited crush, and it wouldn’t be the last. Their time—and relationship—was nearing the end of its shelf-life. Once he got back to his regular life, he was going to forget all about her. She needed to remember that.

He turned back to the camera and pressed the unmute button. “Sorry about that.”

“No worries. Everything okay?” Her voice sounded weird, a little too high, a little too squeaky.

“Yeah, the usual stuff.” Because he was a nice guy, he ignored her awkwardness, which was one of the many reasons she was crushing so hard on him. No matter what she said or did, he never rolled his eyes or made fun of her. He always listened, and was thoughtful with his responses. He didn’t talk over her, or expect her to just listen to him, but asked for her thoughts and opinions.

Why did the universe have to be so cruel? Bringing him into her life, but making it so she couldn’t keep him? Not that she’d ever wish for them to never have met. Because, if she was being honest, she’d rather have him in her life as a friend, than not at all.

“I’ve got to cut tonight short, unfortunately.” One side of his mouth quirked, and she couldn’t help but notice how full his bottom lip was. And how badly she wanted to bite it.

She shook her head to loosen that less than helpful thought. “I understand.”

“You’re the best. Same time next week?”

She nodded, the urge to sigh so big, she was surprised she managed to hold it back. “See you then. And if anything changes, just let me know.”

“Bye.” He waved and then cut the connection.

Lea turned off the tablet and tossed it on the sofa beside her. The time difference meant that his Sunday night was her Saturday morning. And, as usual, she was up and dressed—including a bit of makeup, and her hair done—way too early. It was dumb, but there was no way, once they started video calling, that she was rolling out of bed and right onto camera.

Making an effort made her feel better, like she was putting her best self out there, even though deep down she knew it was pointless. As she’d told herself every week for almost two years, nothing was ever going to happen between them. Drew wasn’t interested and the faster she got over her infatuation, the better off she’d be.

She sighed and pushed to her feet. Maybe she’d call her best friend, Allie, and convince her to meet for brunch. It was definitely a Mimosa kind of day. A little day drinking might take the focus off her aching heart.

She went into the kitchen and grabbed her phone from where it was charging on the counter. It woke up and the chat with Drew from yesterday popped onto the screen. Just seeing his name made her heart do that fluttery thing again.

Day one in her let go of Drew plan, and already she was failing. Why did this have to be so hard?

CHAPTER FIVE

A COUPLE OF MONTHS LATER

DREW STEPPED off the plane and marveled at the warmth in the air. It was a particularly chilly October back in Boston this year, with temperatures hovering around the fifty-degree mark. It was downright balmy here in Redding in comparison. Good thing he’d taken Major Callahan’s advice and packed a bunch of stuff that would work in this climate.

He walked across the tarmac and into the terminal. It wasn’t a massive airport and it didn’t take long to be through and out into the pickup area. His stomach was jumping around, his mouth suddenly dry. He was going to blame the flight, even though it was smooth and he’d never been a nervous flier.

The Major stood near the exit, next to a pretty blonde woman. He looked much better than the last time Drew saw him, which had been just over a year ago, right after they’d hit the IED. Seeing his CO looking so healthy, and happy, sent relief coursing through him.

He stopped in front of them and saluted. “Major Callahan, sir.”

One corner of Major Callahan’s mouth lifted. “At ease, soldier. And it’s just Mason now.”

Drew nodded and relaxed his posture. “Yes, sir.”

The Major chuckled. “Old habits and all of that, eh?” He turned to the woman beside him. “This is my fiancé, Grace. Grace, this is Lieutenant Drew Howard. The one who refused to leave, and pulled me out of what was left of the truck last year.”

Drew smiled at her, thrilled for his former CO. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” she said, her eyes tearing up. “I really want to hug you. Would that be okay?”

He glanced at the Major, who gave a half shrug. “Sure.”

Grace lifted up on her toes and pulled him in for a hug. He wrapped his free arm loosely around her. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hug her—he’d been told by his old girlfriend that touch was his “love language”—but the Major was right there.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice wobbly. “Thank you for saving him.”

“It wasn’t anything he wouldn’t have done for me, or any of us, really.” He kept his voice low, so it was just between them. “But, you’re welcome.”

She gave him a squeeze and then stepped back. The Major wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side. “You okay?”

She nodded and wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Drew shook his head. “Nothing to be sorry about. I’m just glad he made it, or I wouldn’t be about to become a cowboy.” He winked at her and she laughed, the mood lightened as he’d hoped.

The Major chuckled again, and indicated the exit with a tilt of his head. “This way. The ranch is a little way out of the city, but it won’t take long to get there and then we can get you settled.”

Drew tightened his grip on his bag and followed the couple out of the airport, through the parking lot, and into an SUV. The Major got behind the wheel and maneuvered them out of the city and onto the highway. Grace, who was in the passenger seat, kept turning around and asking questions about Drew and his life.

While he was polite and answered her as best he could, he couldn’t say she had his full attention. Half of his brain was filled with thoughts of Lea.

He hadn’t told her he was heading out here, or that they’d be in the same city. Mostly because this was a trial run. He’d initially reached out to Major Callahan just to check in and see how his former CO was doing, and somehow it had ended up in a job offer. The timing had been perfect because Drew had been feeling a bit lost since returning home. Nothing was quite the same. His old friends, his neighborhood. Himself. He felt a bit like a square peg. The offer for a change of scenery and direction couldn’t have come at a better time.

His justification for not saying anything to Lea was, if it didn’t work out, he didn’t want to get her hopes up. And while that was true, it wasn’t the whole truth.

He was also afraid that, if they were finally together in person, he wouldn’t be able to stop from telling her how he felt, and that she’d reject him. Cowardly, sure. But ever since he’d gotten back to the States, she’d started to pull away from him. Nothing obvious, just little things. Letting his calls go to voicemail, not replying to his texts right away. And there had been no more video calls.

It hurt way more than he’d expected, and he wasn’t sure he could handle her stomping on his heart face to face. Maybe once he was settled, had a steady job and something to offer, he’d let her know he was in the area. Then, if she rejected him, he’d know it wasn’t actually meant to be.

The disappointment that crashed through him made his breath catch, but he smiled and nodded at Grace’s most recent question. He wouldn’t think about Lea not wanting a relationship with him. He had other things to worry about first, like working on a ranch owned by his former CO. When had this become his life?

LEA BUMPED the car door closed with her hip and shoved her keys in her purse. One more stop and then she could head home. It had been a rough day on top of a crappy week. She was looking forward to grabbing some takeout and a bottle of wine, and vegging on the couch with a movie.

A pang of loneliness hit her. And quick on its heels, the longing to be cuddling on the couch with Drew while they did a whole lot of nothing. He’d been back in the States for more than a month now, and even though it hurt, she’d slowly been weening herself off of him. Not taking his calls right away, no jumping to answer immediately when he sent a text. The first time he’d tried to video call her, she sat staring at her tablet, wanting so badly but refusing to press the answer button, tears streaming down her face.

But it had to be done. They both needed to move on. Well, she needed to move on because it was far to easy to imagine Drew cuddling on the couch with someone this very minute, and it just hurt way too damn much.

She hurried toward the diner, looking forward to wallowing once she got home. Maybe a good cry was in order tonight. If she watched a sad movie, then it wouldn’t seem quite so pathetic, right?

The bell over the door tinkled as she entered. The diner was busy, which was typical for any night, but most especially a Friday. Not surprising because the food—a mix of typical diner fare and the most delicious, authentic Mexican food—was delicious. Of course, since she worked here while in University, she might be a little biased.

She waved at Isabella, the manager of the diner and made her way over to the empty stool at the end of the counter. Her gaze caught on someone in the corner and she glanced that way.

Everything stopped.

No music. No voices. No clinking of cutlery against plates. No breath in her lungs, no beat of her heart.

Drew sat in the booth in the corner.

She blinked, sure she must be seeing things. But no matter how many times her eyes opened and closed, he was still there. Still sitting in the corner booth.

And then, as if he sensed her staring at him, he looked over.

Their gazes collided and it was like she touched a live wire. Every cell in her body hummed to life, sizzling with electricity.

She was frozen, staring at him, her mind whirring a mile a minute, but no actual coherent thought landing except, what is he doing here, and why didn’t he tell me he was coming?

He pushed to his feet, the long-sleeved Henley he wore doing nothing to disguise the breadth of his shoulders or the strength in his arms. Her mouth dried, like she’d just sucked on a handful of cotton balls.

“Lea?” His deep voice carried across the diner, sending goose bumps to attention along the length of her spine. And then he was striding toward her, his long legs eating up the distance far too fast.

“Drew?” Her voice had gone breathy, filled with surprise and not a little yearning.

And then he was there, in front of her, taller than she’d imagined. She had to tilt her head back to stare up into his beautiful face. Sharp cheekbones, straight nose, square jaw with the dimple in his chin. His hazel eyes were filled with so many familiar emotions. The same emotions that were churning through her. Happiness, fear, excitement, doubt, longing.

Unable to hold back anymore, she launched herself at him. He caught her, wrapping her in his arms and spinning them around with a laugh. He smelled incredible, like a rainy day, and she wanted to bury her face against his neck and just breathe him in.

He squeezed her tighter, as if he didn’t want to let her go. Not that she was trying to get away. Being pressed against him felt like heaven. The heat, the long, strong length of him. If she had her way, she’d spend the rest of her life in his arms.

That thought threw a bucket of icy water over her, and she stiffened. As if sensing the shift in her, Drew set her down and stepped back. She wanted to snatch him back into her space—and possibly never let him go—but she couldn’t do that, not without humiliating herself.

She curled her hands into fists to stop from reaching for him. Or maybe punching him. She wasn’t sure which. “What are you doing here?” Her voice was still a breathy mess.

“My CO is from here. He offered me a job at his ranch.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” Hurt bounced through her.

Uncertainty clouded his gaze. “I didn’t want to say anything, in case it didn’t work out. I’ve only been here for a few days.” His cheeks turned red, almost like he was embarrassed.

She nodded, although it didn’t lessen the hurt, even though it made perfect sense.

“I’m really sorry I didn’t say anything.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I was just afraid—”

“Everything okay, Lea?” Isabella and her almost ex-brother-in-law, Jake Callahan, walked up to her and Drew. Lea’s cheeks burned, and she glanced around. The whole diner was looking at them. She looked back at her old boss.

Isabella’s eyes twinkled, although she was doing her best to suppress a smile. Jake, an incorrigible flirt, was way more transparent. The smirk on his far too handsome face was way too cheeky. “Drew, do you two know each other?”

Lea frowned. “Wait. How do you know each other?”

Drew kept his gaze locked with hers. “Jake is one of my new bosses. I’m working at the Triple C.”

“Oh,” she said, because she didn’t know what else to say.

“It’s clear you’ve got some catching up to do.” Jake clapped Drew on the shoulder. “I’m going to go meet Claire. Let me know if you need anything.” Jake gave Isabella a quick half-hug and then strode out of the restaurant.

Isabella gave Lea a knowing smile, and then spun and headed over to take the order of a table that had just come in. Leaving Lea and Drew alone again.

Drew rubbed the back of his neck and glanced around. It made her feel slightly better that he was uncomfortable too. The whole situation was weird. She’d spent so much time talking with him over the last couple of years, and yet now that they were face to face, she was nervous. It was so dumb.

“I’m sorry,” she said, trying to get some part of this evening back on track. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your dinner. Or your plans for tonight.” She pointed toward the door. “I’m sure you can catch up with Jake, you know, if you want to go.”

The corners of his kissable mouth squeaked down. “Did you want me to go?”

“No.” The word whipped out of her way faster and more forceful than she anticipated. She swallowed. “I mean, not if you don’t want to go.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to go.”

The relief that washed through her made her knees wobble. “Oh, good.”

“Here you go.” Isabella appeared on the opposite side of the counter with a large paper bag that she pushed toward Lea. “I’ve got your favorite tamales, along with some Chile en Nogada, an order of corned beef hash, some cream of mushroom soup, and pumpkin pie.”

“Umm,” Lea said, unsure what to say. It was enough food to last her a full week. “Thanks?”

Isabella threw her a radiant smile. “You’re welcome.” And then she turned and walked away.

“I’m sorry,” Drew said, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. And she wasn’t noticing how well they fit him. “I didn’t mean to ruin your plans.”

“My plans consist of take out and watching a movie from my couch.” She grabbed the bag of food, which smelled incredible, because she didn’t know what else to do with her hands. “Nothing too exciting.”

He nodded, as if it was now his turn to not know what to say.

The silence stretched between them, filled with tension, and making her itchy and uncomfortable. Her thoughts tumbled over themselves, different scenarios running through her mind. What did she want the most? What would make her happiest, even though it was the scariest?

It was a no-brainer. “Do you want to come back to my place?”

CHAPTER SIX

DREW HELD HIS BREATH, not quite sure he’d heard Lea correctly. Because he thought she’d invited him back to her place. He waited for her to take the words back, or laugh it off as a joke. Anything to tamp down the hope surging through him.

She stared up at him, and he couldn’t believe how beautiful she was. Even more breathtaking in person than he’d imagined. And he’d imagined a lot. Her dark hair was shiny and soft-looking, and his fingers itched to dive into it. She had a smattering of the cutest freckles across her nose, just light enough that they’d never come through on the camera. Her cheeks were rosy, her lips plump and perfect for kissing.

He wanted to hold her in his arms again, feel her soft, luscious curves pressed against him. Kiss her like he’d imagined doing for so long now. Tell her how much he wanted her, how much he craved her.

“You don’t have to come, if you don’t want to.” There was a vulnerability in the words, and the pink in her cheeks darkened. But she didn’t look away. Kept her gaze locked on his.

Relief that he hadn’t misunderstood her made his knees weak. He smiled. “I would love to have dinner with you, Lea.”

The smile she gave him was so radiant he almost needed sunglasses. “Do you have a car, or do you need me to drive? It’s not far, we could walk if you want.”

He took the bag of food from her. “No car, so I’m at your mercy. Lead the way.”

Turning, she headed out of the diner, and he followed behind. Trying not to look at the way her hips swayed as she walked, or how the dress pants she wore hugged her curvy ass. He failed miserably.

She led him to a small, older model compact hatchback, and he couldn’t help but admit it was quintessentially her. Practical and efficient, but with a touch of whimsy. Her seat covers were pink and fluffy, and there were also a pair of fuzzy dice hanging from the rearview mirror.

They got in and were off. It didn’t take long to get to her apartment building. She parked the car and then ushered him into her third-floor walk-up. Like her car, her apartment was the perfect combination of practical and fun. Her sofa was a basic charcoal grey, but was strewn with pink pillows and a soft looking floral throw blanket. The walls were painted off white, except for one, which was a deep purple. There were a number of bookcases, every shelf almost overflowing with books and knickknacks. Photographs lined the walls, and he’d bet anything they were all of her family and friends.

“Sit, sit,” she said, taking the food from him and placing it on the counter. The apartment was open concept, so the kitchen and living space were separated by a small breakfast bar. “Do you want something to drink? I’ve got wine. Or soda. Water? There may be a beer in the fridge.”

He sat on the sofa, which was surprisingly comfortable. “If you’ve got it, beer is fine.”

She nodded and then turned and rummaged through the fridge. He had to look away because the way her ass looked when she was bent over made all the blood rush to his cock. Wandering around with a hard-on was definitely not the way to make the best impression.

“Here you go.”

He looked over at her. She held a bottle of beer out to him, a glass of white wine in her other hand. He took the bottle with a smile that felt strained.

“Are you hungry? I can grab the food?” She pointed toward the kitchen.

He shook his head. “No, I’m good for now. Have a seat.” He indicated the spot on the sofa next to him.

For a second, he thought she was going to refuse, and the disappointment that crashed through him was almost painful. But then, her shoulders straightened and she lowered herself next to him. They were close enough to touch, but not quite. He wanted to close the gap, but didn’t want to spook her, so he took a sip of his beer instead.

The silence stretched between them, not quite awkward, but close. They’d spent the last almost two years telling each other all kinds of things, but now that they were finally in the same room together, he couldn’t think of anything to say.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He could think of plenty of things to say. Like how badly he wanted to kiss her. How beautiful she was, both inside and out. How many nights he’d dreamed of holding her, touching her, loving her.

“So, how’s the ranch thing going?” She took a sip of her wine, watching him over the rim of her glass. Her dark brown eyes were cautious, guarded, and he hated it.

“It’s going well, actually.” He placed his beer on the table and turned so he was facing her, his arm stretched along the back of the sofa. “I like working outside, and they guys are really great. Didn’t think in a million years I’d end up being a cowboy, though.”

Her mouth twitched, and she took another sip of her wine to cover it up.

“What?” He cocked his head. “Out with it.”

Putting her glass down on the end table, she turned to him. Her cheeks darkened, but she didn’t look away. “If you must know, I was just thinking that cowboys are hot.”

Surprise arrowed through him, heat pooling in his belly. And lower. He leaned forward a little. “Really?”

She licked her lips, and his gaze followed the sweep of her tongue. He wanted to taste her so badly. “Definitely, although some are hotter than others.” Her voice had gone breathy and low.

“Is that so?” He lowered his voice to match hers.

She leaned forward. “Mm, hmm.”

He stared into her dark eyes, and everything else fell away. All he could see was her, and how beautiful she was. “I really want to kiss you.”

The words were out before he could stop them, low and quiet, teetering on the knife’s edge. But he didn’t want to take them back because he was done being afraid. He wanted Lea to know how he felt.

“You do?” She leaned closer, the whispered words almost a brush against his skin.

He nodded, leaning in. Only an inch separated them now. His heart crashed against his ribs with every hard beat. Time seemed to stand still…

And then she closed the distance between them and pressed her lips to his.

The kiss was soft, tentative, and it made his chest ache like it did when he looked at the ocean. He tilted his head and brushed his tongue against the seam of her lips. She opened immediately and he slipped his tongue inside. She tasted as sweet as he’d always imagined. Sweet and addictive.

He slipped his arms around her and pulled her forward. Her softness crashed into him and he growled deep in his chest, loving the feel of her against him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning into him. Her tongue slid against his, tangled with his.

She moaned, and the sound slid along his skin and right to his cock. He cupped her ass, squeezing her soft flesh. The feel of her in his hands was perfect. They fit together like puzzle pieces, made for each other.

He pulled away from her lips, trailing kisses along her jaw. She tilted her head in blatant invitation, and he took full advantage, kissing and sucking and nibbling on the smooth skin of her throat. Trailing his free hand up her side, he cupped her breast, cursing the barrier between them. He wanted to feel her skin to skin.

With a gasp, she arched her back, pressing her breast into his hand. He squeezed lightly, feeling her nipple bead against his palm, even through the fabric. His mouth watered for a taste. But he didn’t want to rush her. They had plenty of time.

She eased away from him and he sat back, giving her some space. Her cheeks were rosy, her lips plump and slightly parted. Heat and longing sparkled in her dark gaze. She was so fucking beautiful he could barely breathe.

Her gaze remained on his, but she swallowed hard. “Do you want to go into the bedroom?” There was a vulnerability in her voice, caution in the question. Like she was afraid he was going to reject her.

The idea made him want to laugh, mostly because he was barley holding himself back from jumping up and fist-bumping everyone in the city. But he swallowed it all down. Being dumb and giving her the wrong impression, having her change her mind was not on the agenda. And there was no way he was screwing this up.

He stood, and then reached down and pulled her to her feet. She gave him a shy smile, and his heart nearly burst out of his chest. Intertwining their fingers, he led her over to the bedroom.

Like the rest of the place, the bedroom was all Lea. Light blues and yellows, fluffy pillows and soft blankets. More bookshelves stuffed to the brim. The bed took up most of the space, the wrought iron head and footboard bringing thoughts of Lea tied to it while he had his way with her.

He groaned, the vivid picture making his cock throb behind his fly. One thing at a time. He spun around, backed her against the wall, and brushed his lips against hers. But, as he was quickly learning, it wasn’t enough, and he opened his mouth and deepened the kiss.

The kiss turned dirty quickly, all lips and teeth and tongue. It was a battle, each of them attacking and then retreating, licking and sucking, tasting and teasing.

She slid her hands under his shirt, her fingers tracing the lines of his abs. Teasing his bellybutton, making him twitch. Pulling away from her lips, he yanked his shirt off over his head and tossed it on the floor.

“Wow.” Her awed whisper was more like a sigh.

His gaze found hers. She was staring at his chest and arms and abs, and he had the ridiculous urge to preen and flex. He sent a silent thanks to the universe that he’d decided to head to the gym when he was bored. Which had been a lot after he got back.

She looked up at him, her cheeks bright pink. Color he suspected was due to more than just arousal. He lifted his hands to the front of her shirt, sliding the buttons free, one after the other. The v widened until it was completely undone. Her large breasts were barely contained by her bra, the creamy mounds just begging for his lips, his teeth, his tongue. Just before he pushed her shirt off her shoulders, she grabbed his wrists.

“Do you want to stop?” His voice sounded like he’d swallowed a bucket of sand.

She shook her head.

“Talk to me, Beautiful.” He swept his thumbs over her throat. Goosebumps sprouted on her skin, and he wanted to chase them with his tongue.

“I’m just nervous.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. She blew out a breath. “I know I don’t have a great body…”

He frowned, although didn’t stop touching her, couldn’t stop touching her. “You’re gorgeous. Your body is gorgeous. You have no idea how many nights I dreamed of it, of you.”

“Y-you did?”

He nodded. “You’re smart and funny and gorgeous, Lea. Honestly, I have no idea what you could possibly see in a dummy like me.”

Her mouth dropped open. She was so damn cute he could hardly stand it. “Are you kidding me?” Her voice had gone squeaky high, and he fought to stop his lips from tilting up. “You’re the gorgeous one. All tall and broad shouldered. And have you seen the size of your arms? And don’t get me started about your abs. They don’t even look real.”

Something that felt an awful lot like disappointment stabbed at him. He let one side of his mouth quirk up, hoping to mask the hurt. It was fine. He knew he didn’t have much to offer her. At least she found him attractive. That was something.

She cocked her head, a little crease forming between her brows. “I’ve said something wrong.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s fine. It’s me, not you.”

She cupped the side of his face, and he leaned into her touch automatically. “Don’t do that. Don’t shut me out like that.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice rawer than he’d like. “I know I don’t have a lot to offer. I didn’t go to college, didn’t even like school, but—”

Her frown deepened. “What are you talking about? You’re strong and brave and funny and smart and so damn sweet I can hardly stand it sometimes. Meeting you, getting to know you, is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

Joy burst through him, so fast and so strong he was surprised it wasn’t radiating out of the tips of his fingers.

She reached back and unsnapped her bra, sliding it off and tossing it aside. His thoughts scattered, lust and heat rushing through him. He couldn’t stop the groan that escaped. Wanted to drop to his knees and worship her like the goddess she was. As he devoured her with his gaze, her nipples hardened, making his mouth water.

He bent down, wrapped his arm around her waist, and licked her nipple. She pulled in a quick breath, which turned into a whimper when he started to suck.

She cradled his head in her hands, holding him against her while he feasted. Little mewling sounds escaped the back of her throat, spurring him on. He lashed her nipple with his tongue, and then nibbled and sucked until she was writhing in his arms. And then he kissed his way across to her other breast and treated that nipple to the same attention.

When her nipples were rosy and distended, he gave one last lick and then dropped to his knees. His fingers rested on the clasp of her pants. Waiting a beat, he tilted his head up to look at her and held his breath. If there was any hesitation in her, he would stop immediately.

Keeping her gaze locked on his, she reached down and undid her pants, pushing them and her panties over her hips. Gravity took them to her ankles, and she kicked them aside.

He let his gaze roam over all her soft flesh and rounded curves. So fucking perfect. Especially her beautiful pussy. He leaned in and nuzzled her soft curls, unable to stop from tasting her. At the touch of his tongue against her fold, she whimpered and spread her legs a little. The sound landed straight on his cock, which strained against his fly, eager to come out a play.

“You ready, Beautiful?” He wasn’t sure she heard his rough whisper, but he didn’t wait. Just lifted her leg over his shoulder, opening her up for him, and feasted.

CHAPTER SEVEN

LEA SQUEALED—HONEST to God, squealed—when Drew’s tongue slid through her folds. It was a sound she’d never made before, but then again, she’d never had Drew between her thighs before.

He was relentless, sucking and licking like he couldn’t get enough of her. She rolled her hips, trying to get closer, and then pulling away when it became overwhelming. He didn’t let her get far, though, clamping his hands over her hips to stop her retreat.

She grabbed his free shoulder, digging her fingers into his skin. He growled and started sucking on her clit. Electricity sparked through her nervous system, setting everything inside her alight. She pressed her shoulders against the wall, a gasping cry slipping past her lips.

If she’d thought he was relentless before, it was nothing compared to the way he ate her now. With singular focus, like she was what sustained him. She closed her eyes and let the sensation consume her.

Her skin tingled, from the soles of her feet to the roots of her hair. Every cell in her body crackled, burning hotter and brighter with each press of his lips, lash of his tongue. It was incredible and perfect and overwhelming, all rolled into one. And any second now, it was going to break her.

The orgasm crashed into her with so much force, it sucked the air out of her lungs. She opened her mouth to scream out her pleasure, but all that came out was a high-pitched whine. Her entire body tightened for a painful heartbeat, and then shook right to the very marrow of her bones.

She sagged against the wall, her body refusing to move. “I think you killed me.”

He chuckled, although it sounded strained around the edges. He stood and pulled her into his arms, lifting her off her feet. She squeaked and wrapped her arms and legs around him. Her sensitive center came in contact with the very prominent bulge in his pants, and she groaned. He growled again and strode over to the bed, placing her down on the mattress with such reverence, it made her chest ache.

Pressing a quick kiss to her lips, he stood. She pushed up onto her elbows to watch him. He was so damn gorgeous. All brown skin and flexing muscle. He unsnapped his jeans and she held her breath. He pushed them past his hips, taking his boxers with him. His cock sprang free, hard and thick. Her mouth watered for a taste and she licked her lips.

Drew groaned. “I need to be inside you.”

His ragged words sent a spike of heat through her. Her core pulsed, achy and empty. He kicked his jeans aside and then reached down and grabbed his wallet. When he pulled a condom out of his wallet, she couldn’t help but laugh.

“A bit cliched, don’t you think?”

One corner of his mouth ticked up. “Do you have any condoms?”

She scrunched up her nose. “Good point.”

He tore open the wrapper and slid the condom over his erection. She couldn’t pull her gaze away. And then he was climbing on the bed, kneeling between her splayed thighs.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, sliding his hands up and down her inner thighs. And for probably one of the first times in her life, she actually felt beautiful. How could she not when he was staring at her like that?

“I need you,” she said, reaching for him.

He crawled over her, and his heat enveloped her. She spread her legs wider, and he lowered his pelvis to rest against hers. His cock seared the skin of her belly. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a dirty kiss.

His tongue tangled with hers, his chest hair rubbing against her sensitive nipples, making them ache. He reached between them, caressing her belly before moving lower to palm his erection. He broke off the kiss so he could stare down at her, his hazel eyes locked to hers. She lifted her leg, wrapping it around the small of his back, opening herself up to him. He slid the head of his cock through her wetness and they both moaned.

And then he was pressing inside her, stretching her. She gasped, tilting her head back. He was thick, thicker than her last boyfriend, and it had been a while.

He made a sound that was half groan, half growl. “You’re so hot and wet.”

She tilted her pelvis up, urging him deeper. “Please, Drew.”

He thrust hard, seating himself completely. She grunted, feeling so incredibly full. The pleasure outweighed the ache, but the ache was good too.

“You okay?” He brushed her hair off her forehead, his concerned gaze searching her face.

She nodded, rubbing the back of his neck and his upper back. “Don’t stop.”

He pulled his hips back and then pressed forward. She made a noise in the back of her throat, a noise she’d never made before, and rocked her hips against his. He leaned down, captured her lips, and thrust again. So freaking good.

It took a minute, but soon they found their rhythm. A breathtaking stretch and glide. Each thrust sent a shower of sparks cascading through her. Every cell in her body tingled, inching closer and closer to the edge.

Drew shifted his hips, finding a different angle, and she moaned, her toes curling. “Oh, right there. Right there.”

He slid his hand down, cupping her butt and pulling her tight against him. He pushed deep, holding himself there, and rocking his hips so there was direct pressure on her clit. It was enough to send her over the edge.

She threw her head back and screamed. Her entire body pulsed with pleasure, and she shook from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Her inner muscles clamped down, and he groaned, pulling back and starting a driving rhythm, thrusting hard, chasing his own pleasure. Each thrust sent an aftershock through her, making her tremble harder.

With a sexy grunt, he pushed as deep inside her as he could and stilled. He buried his face against her neck, and she could feel him pulsing deep inside her. She rubbed her hands over his back, cooing and humming in contentment.

He lifted his head and rained kisses over her face, murmuring words of praise and affection. Her heart, which was already overflowing, melted into a puddle of goo. There was no way she was ever letting him go.

“I love you,” she said, the words slipping out in her bliss. She froze, panic making her stiffen up.

He pulled back, staring down at her, shock plain on his far too handsome face. And then his lips tilted up in the most beautiful smile she’d ever seen. Joy sparkled in his hazel gaze. “I never thought I’d ever hear you say that to me.” He leaned down and brushed her lips with the sweetest, most tender kiss. “I love you, too, Beautiful. And I have for a really long time.”

She laughed and sank back against the mattress, pulling him down on top of her. He chuckled and rolled them over so they were one their sides. He brushed her lips with another kiss and then slipped off the bed to go and deal with the condom. She watched him go, admiring the tightness of his butt. How had she gotten so lucky?

He came back into the bedroom and crawled onto the bed so he was facing her. She pushed him over onto his back and snuggled up against his side, her head on his shoulder. “So, what now?”

“That’s the beauty of it,” he said, sifting his hand though her hair. “Whatever we want. And as long as I’m with you, I’ll love every minute of it.”

She pressed a kiss to his shoulder and tilted her head up to smile at him. The adoration in his gaze mirrored hers, she was sure, and it made her breath catch. She couldn’t help but send a silent thank you to Diane, wherever she was. Lea would be forever grateful for that wrong number, the one that led her to the love of her life.

If you’d like to see how Mason and Grace got their happily ever after, check out His Saving Grace.

You can find Erin and all her goings on at erinparisien.com

SOUTHERN HOSPITALITY

EVA CHARLES

CHAPTER ONE

DANIELA

“WHAT ARE YOU THINKING?” I ask my husband, who’s regarding me with mischief in his eyes. Not the playful innocence of a boy, but the wanton gaze of a dark prince fueled by lust and debauchery. My favorite kind of mischief.

“I’m thinking about what we’d be doing to pass the time from Porto to Charleston if Valentina wasn’t with us.”

Tell me more is on the tip of my tongue, but there’s no sense starting something we can’t finish.

I glance toward the back of the private plane where the preteen is engrossed in a movie. Valentina lost her mother—my oldest and dearest friend—less than a year ago. Although she’s experienced some bouts of profound sadness, the clouds come and go. She’s strong and resilient, and very much loved. I’m so proud of her, and while Antonio is grousing right now, he adores her, too.

“What are you thinking?” he murmurs, tugging gently on a lock of my hair.

“I’m thinking about Valentina, and Isabel, and about the last time I was in the US.”

He wraps a strong arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer, and presses his lips to the top of my head. “Before I lured you across the Atlantic and forced you to uphold a betrothal contract?”

“It sounds so romantic when you put it like that, but don’t forget the part where you held me prisoner until the wedding.” I narrow my eyes and flash him a weary smile. It wasn’t his finest moment, but it was uniquely Antonio. That’s for sure.

“Any regrets?” he asks, not with his usual bravado, but with a rare vulnerability in his voice that makes my heart clench. The events of the last few months have coaxed his human side to the forefront, and I do everything in my power to encourage it.

“My only regret is that I didn’t confide in you when my father died.” I squeeze his fingers. “It would have changed so many things. For everyone.” A heavy sigh escapes, weighting the air around us. “You?”

He doesn’t hesitate or hedge. It’s almost as though he’s thought about this before—many times. “I should have never let you run away to the US. If I hadn’t been so hell-bent on building an empire and shoring-up power—if I’d forced you to stay…” His voice trails away, and my gorgeous husband peers into my face, but his eyes are glassy and faraway as he broods about what might have been.

I press my fingertips to his lips. “We can’t change the past. Not even you. This is the journey we were destined to travel.”

“I don’t accept that,” he snaps, creating space between us. Not just physical distance, but emotional too. “It didn’t need to be so damn hard for you. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

Oh, Antonio. “I’ve forgiven you. I love you. I always have.”

He says nothing, but his restlessness rattles my bones. My love isn’t enough to heal the wounds in his soul. But it will be, one day. I’m sure of it. Until then, there’s no cure for the tormented, only temporary reprieves.

My usual ways of distracting him aren’t available to me. While I try to come up with a distraction that doesn’t require me to take off my clothes, a tortured growl spills from the man beside me. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness. Or your love. And I certainly don’t deserve you. But I’m never letting you go. Never.” Antonio drags me off the bench seat and onto his lap.

“Be careful with your shoulder,” I urge.

His shoulder is a painful souvenir that will nag him for a long time. A stark reminder that life is fleeting, as though either of us needed to be reminded.

“Fuck my shoulder. I want you right here where I can feel the warmth of your skin.”

I don’t bother to argue. It’s pointless trying to reason with him when he’s in a mood.

This trip to the US has roused all sorts of emotions—for both of us, but especially for Antonio. Even after I settle into his lap, I sense his lingering regret. It’s out of character for the man who makes difficult decisions and metes out justice without a shred of remorse. From the moment he opens his eyes in the morning until he lays his head on the pillow at night, he’s responsible for the entire valley and a multi-billion-dollar Port industry that keeps the region afloat. Antonio can’t afford misgivings, and he doesn’t normally indulge them.

I nuzzle his neck, letting my caresses speak the words he’s not ready to accept.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispers into my hair. “I’ve missed us.”

“I’ve rarely left your side since you came out of surgery.”

“Too many people cluttering our orbit. Too many goddamn distractions. I need you to myself, Princesa. All of you.”

“We’ll carve out some time, just for us, while we’re in Charleston.” Although I’m not sure how we’ll manage it. Shortly after we land, there’s a pre-wedding dinner and the ceremony is tomorrow at five. Not to mention we have a child in tow. It’s going to be a whirlwind. We didn’t arrive earlier in the week, because we wanted to spend Christmas at home. We’ll make something work. I need him too.

“Have you decided whether Valentina can stay with the rest of the bridal party at JD and Gabby’s?” he asks, holding me tighter.

It’s a simple question, asked with a casual tone, but still, I stiffen in a knee-jerk response. The Charleston crew—the Wilders—are like family to him, but aside from Delilah and Gray, the bride and groom, I don’t know them.

“Hey.” He lifts my chin until I meet his eyes. “Don’t be pressured into any decision that makes you uncomfortable. You don’t have to cave to pressure from anyone. Certainly not from me. Not about this,” he adds, parsing hairs. “Don’t forget it—no matter how much of a whiny asshole I become.”

My lips twitch at the corners. Antonio doesn’t whine, he demands, and he expects his orders to be fully obeyed. Most everyone is compliant, although I pick and choose. But he didn’t need to say it. He would never expect me to put Valentina’s safety above his needs.

She’s a junior bridesmaid, and the girls are all staying at Gray’s brother’s house tonight. I was invited to sleep over, too, if it would make it easier for Valentina to stay—easier for me to let her stay. But the almost thirteen-year-old going on seventeen huffed about me worrying too much and hovering over her like she’s an infant.

She’s right. I do worry too much—with good reason—but still, it’s not fair to dump my crazy on her.

Besides, the bride will be there. There’s no one better to protect a preteen girl than Delilah. I’d stake my life on it. If only my head and emotions could get on the same page.

“She can stay at the Wilder’s,” I mutter, “unless I see anything that gives me a bad feeling.” Although I doubt I will. We’re traveling without much security, which means my husband, who trusts so few people, trusts them.

“If you’re a good princesa,” Antonio murmurs, with a lasciviousness that makes my pussy flutter, “I’ll take you to play in Gray’s club after dinner.”

I slide my thumb over his stamped leather belt, and trace the silver buckle in a prolonged tease, my fingers, occasionally, brushing against his cock. Each time they do, he draws a ragged breath. There’s no doubt if we were alone, he would have already flung me over his good shoulder and we’d be halfway to the bedroom.

“Wench,” he hisses when my fingers slip, again. He grabs my hand, impatiently, and presses it to his hard cock so I can feel his arousal. “I hope you’re enjoying your little game, meu amor because it’s going to cost you.”

“I only indulge my whims, if I’m willing to pay the price. Whatever it might be.” I grind my palm into his thickening cock, until he swats my hand away.

“We’ll see how far you’re willing to go.” He smirks. “We’ll see.”

CHAPTER TWO

DANIELA

WHILE I’M CONTEMPLATING my husband’s delicious threat, the flight attendant comes to tell us that we’ll be landing shortly.

“Should I have Valentina turn off the movie?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “I’ll talk to her. But if you wouldn’t mind taking your seat, Senhora, that would be wonderful.”

Antonio, who isn’t ready to let me go, scowls at her, as I slide off his lap. “I ought to fire her scrawny ass,” he mutters under his breath when she walks away.

Before I have my seatbelt fastened, Valentina pops into the seat across from us. “Okay, I want to practice. Let’s see if I have everyone straight.”

It’s a small wedding, which is a bit surprising since the Wilders are a prominent Charleston family. Gray’s father was president of the United States. But even despite the intimate size, there are a lot of people to keep straight.

“Go on,” Antonio encourages, with an indulgent smile.

“JD is Gray’s older brother,” Valentina says confidently. “He’s married to Gabby and they have a daughter Gracie who is going to be the flower girl and a baby named Davis. The dinner tonight is at their house. Chase is Gray’s younger brother. He’s not married and he doesn’t have kids.” She scrunches her nose. “Is there something else about him I’m forgetting?”

Antonio shrugs. “If you figure out Chase, let us know. He’s a mystery. Even to his brothers.”

Valentina nods, as though taking him literally. “Smith is walking Delilah up the aisle,” she continues, “because Delilah doesn’t have a father.” Like me. She doesn’t say it, but a dark cloud descends, and I distract her before it puts a damper on her excitement.

“What’s Smith’s wife’s name?” I ask.

“Kate,” Valentina chirps. “She’s a redhead, and she’s going to have a baby soon. And Jake is coming, too.” She grins at Antonio. “You, and Gray, and Jake were besties in college.”

The corner of Antonio’s mouth curls. I’m sure he’s thinking if only you knew the half of it.

“Does Jake have a girlfriend?” she asks.

“Not that he’s bringing to the wedding.”

“I saw pictures of him online.” Valentina sighs with a gooey smile. “He’s pretty hot. Maybe he’ll dance with me.”

“No,” I chide, much too sharply. “He’s pretty hot.” I’m not ready for this.

“Why not?”

“Jake’s an adult and you’re a girl,” I explain, with a measured tone. “Maybe there will be some boys your age to dance with.”

“Do you think?” she asks, eyes wide, ear-to-ear smile, and the flush of a schoolgirl dreaming about dancing with boys.

Antonio bristles. “If you want to dance, you can dance with me.” He’s thrown the gauntlet, with a ring of finality. Finesse isn’t his strong suit. “You’re too young to be thinking about boys.”

“I’m a junior bridesmaid,” she harrumphs, as the wheels touch down and the plane screeches to a stop.

Despite the noisy landing, Antonio’s not finished teaching Valentina about the male species. “Boys are trouble. Big trouble. Never forget that.”

“You were a boy.” It’s almost a challenge, but her tone is very respectful.

“Exactly. That’s how I know they’re trouble.”

“The teenager years are going to be fun,” I quip, as we prepare to deplane.

“You and me,” my husband whispers, his lips grazing the shell of my ear. “Alone. Where I own your pussy for the entire night.”

I tip my head back until I catch his eye, and smile coyly. “Maybe I’ll be the one doing the owning.”

“Oh, Princesa. Keep it up.” His tenor is cloaked in a luscious threat that makes my knees weak.

As we descend the airstair, he splays a possessive hand at the small of my back, confidently guiding my body. His touch is firm and his dark eyes glitter dangerously.

Every nerve-ending is awake, swaying in anticipation. I want to hand over my panties, now.

But first, we have dinner to get through.

CHAPTER THREE

ANTONIO

WE’RE TRAVELING with fewer guards than we normally would, but I’m not concerned. The Wilders know all about tight security, and they’ve assigned us a detail. Plus, Mia and Santi, Valentina’s guards, are already in Charleston.

I have a surprise planned for Daniela, and if she changes her mind about Valentina staying at the Wilders, Mia and Santi will babysit.

“Wow!” Valentina cries, as the driver proceeds up JD and Gabby’s long driveway. “It’s so pretty with all the lights. Although, the trees look a little spooky.”

“That’s Spanish Moss hanging from the branches,” Daniela explains. “It makes the trees appear, almost, haunted—maybe even a bit weepy. Imagine how spectacular they are during the summer when everything is lush.”

“Do you think we can come back in the summer?” Valentina asks as the vehicle pulls up to a gracious front porch draped with greenery and white Christmas lights.

“Sure,” Daniela replies. “Although maybe not this summer.”

The driver helps them out of the car, while I grab a case of my finest Port from the trunk. JD has been begging me to send him a bottle for well over a year.

“I’ve never been in a wedding, and now, I’m going to be in two. First Delilah and Gray’s, and then yours.” Valentina links her arm through Daniela’s. “I’m so excited,” she squees, as my wife rings the bell.

“Remember what I said about not talking about our wedding,” Daniela reminds the girl. “We don’t want to take anything away from their day.”

Valentina pretends to zip her lips. “I won’t say a word. And since you’re already married, no one will ever suspect.”

Daniela and I are getting married, again. We’re going back to the beginning. It’s not exactly a fresh start, but it’s the best way forward for us.

“Ladies,” the broody bastard who opens the doors drawls, “what have you dragged across the Atlantic with you?”

“I’m happy to go back where I came from,” I lift the case of Port a bit higher, “but this baby is coming with me.”

“Let’s not be rash,” JD mutters, reaching for the Port, as his lovely wife appears beside him. I don’t know how she puts up with his bullshit. But considering what Daniela puts up with from me, I probably shouldn’t judge.

“Are you going to leave our guests on the doorstep all night?” she tuts, before turning to us. “I’m Gabby. We’re so happy you’re here. Please, come in.”

Within seconds of our arrival, the foyer is teeming with Wilders. After taking our coats and a round of introductions, Gabby, Delilah, and Kate take Daniela and Valentina upstairs to see bouquets and dresses, and JD disappears with the Port.

“You jittery, yet?” I ask Gray, mostly in jest.

He laughs. “No jitters. I wanted to pull the trigger a long time ago, but Delilah’s been dragging her feet. She’s so stubborn.”

He hands me a crystal tumbler. “It’s Jake’s whiskey. Aged in one of your Port barrels. Pretty damn good. Don’t tell him I said that.”

I take a sip. “Wow. It is good. Nice finish. Is he here, yet?”

Gray shakes his head. “On his away.”

“The last time I talked to him, I got the feeling he was up to something.”

“Payback,” Gray mumbles. “He’s got the world eating out of his hand, but he won’t be happy until he exacts some revenge. I’m worried about him.”

I’m concerned, too. Unlike Gray and me, Jake didn’t grow up with a silver spoon in his mouth. He spent some time in jail as a kid, before his fortunes changed. Although he hasn’t quite put the past behind him. I know that story. Revenge is a nagging whore, never satisfied, and dirty as fuck. Jake needs to stay far away from that shit. “I’ll talk to him. You just worry about getting your bride down the aisle.”

“How’s the shoulder?” he asks, pivoting to the nasty reminder of my own bloody thirst for revenge.

“It’s fine.”

“Now that the small talk’s behind us, why don’t you ask me the burning question.”

I chuckle. “You are an insufferable asshole.” But he’s right. I’m like a kid waiting for Santa Claus. “Are we set?”

“Oh, baby, are you set. I’ve been tempted to try it on for size, but it’s your brainchild.” His face lights up. “That thing has all the bells and whistles. The designers walk you through?”

“I got a web tour first thing this morning. I’d like to give it a whirl tonight if that works.”

“Club’s closed for two weeks for the holidays. Play whenever you’d like. No one’s around but security. Feel free to have them turn off the surveillance, just remind them to power it back up when you’re finished.”

Perfect. I want all cameras off. All of them. No one, but me, gets to see my Princesa’s luscious body, or her beautiful face as she falls apart. “Appreciate it.”

“No sweat. But you’ve got to let me buy that playground from you. It would be a very popular attraction. I don’t know why I didn’t install one before now.”

“I don’t need to be compensated. It’s yours. Just have it fumigated before we visit Charleston, again.”

“The word is sanitized, and I don’t fool around with anyone’s health and safety. Speaking of which. Despite your generosity and our relationship, the rules apply while you’re in the club.”

Gray knows I hate rules—unless I’m the one making them. It’s a pointed reminder that the club isn’t a free-for-all. I don’t need to be reminded to take care of Daniela. Her safety is always my most pressing concern. “She’s my wife.”

“Don’t care. Playing at Wildflower requires precautions, consent, aftercare, and a safeword that you will respect. I’ll personally kick your ass if you step out of line.”

I have no intention of stepping over any lines, but I will be pushing some boundaries.

My Princesa is getting my full attention tonight.

CHAPTER FOUR

DANIELA

“SO THIS IS what all the fuss is about,” a devilishly handsome man with sandy blond hair drawls, as he saunters over to Delilah and me, chatting in the first-floor library. “The women who have turned my boys into—” he pauses for a moment, “respectable men.” There’s a twinkle in his eye that suggests pussies, not respectable men, is what he’s actually thinking.

“You must be Jake.” I hold out my hand and he takes it, before saying hello to Delilah. They seem to know each other.

“The one and only,” he replies drily. “Is it tales of my surly disposition or bad manners that precede me?”

Before I respond, Gabby calls Delilah’s name.

“Are you going to be okay alone with him?” Delilah asks, as only she can. “Or should I leave you a gun?” She glares at Jake, who’s eating it up.

I pat my purse. “I came prepared.”

It’s quiet for a moment as she leaves. “I hope being alone with me doesn’t make you too uncomfortable, because that would spoil all my fun when your husband discovers us schmoozing.”

He’s as smooth as silk, with that sexy drawl, and tailored jacket made of fine wool. But there’s also a rough edge about him, as though danger lurks under the polished veneer.

“A man who lives for trouble,” I observe, good-naturedly.

Jake presses his back into the oversized console, eyeing me carefully. “And how do you know that, Mrs. Huntsman?”

“I recall seeing your picture all over the internet, with my husband, while you were throwing lavish parties in Marrakesh.”

His mouth slides into a slow lazy smile. The casual charm is disarming. “I’m always up for an adventure, but your man was only interested in hunting bad guys and getting back to you. He’s become such a spoilsport.” Jake’s bright blue eyes sparkle madly as he shares the little secret.

Antonio, Gray, and Jake must have made quite a splash on their college campus. They’re very different from one another, but they each give off a dangerous bad-boy vibe that’s irresistible.

“All kidding aside,” I say quietly, “thank you for letting us land on your island in the spring, and for helping Antonio round up the—”

“Monsters?” he asks before I finish my thought. “It was my pleasure. Antonio has come to my rescue many times. But he never asks for favors. I knew it had to be important when he called, and that you must be pretty special.” The cheeky quips have bled away to something earnest. “I was honored he turned to me for help.”

While I’m still appreciating his candor, Antonio strolls in, and wraps an arm around me, tucking me into his body. He smells divine. “Don’t listen to a word he says.”

My husband is a possessive man, and he chafes at the mere thought of another man paying me any attention, but it’s different with Jake and Gray. He’s holding me close, but he’s relaxed, and the acerbic barbs and big guns stay packed away.

“I was hoping to get under your skin when you found us alone.” Jake smirks. “But I guess age has made you more trusting.”

“Only of her.”

Jake tosses his head back and laughs, before clinking his glass against Antonio’s. “I’m going to freshen my drink. It was very nice to meet you, Daniela. Try to keep him honest. Call me if he gives you any trouble.”

“At first I wasn’t sure about him,” I murmur when we’re alone. “But I like him. Although he seems like he might be even more of a handful than you. If that’s possible.”

Antonio puts down his glass, and slides his fingers into my hair, tipping my head back until I’m gazing into those sultry dark pools. “Tonight, when you’re on your knees at Wildflower, worshiping my cock, and later, when I’m destroying your pussy, I’ll be the only man you’ll be thinking about.”

You’re the only man I ever think about. I grin shamelessly, as the shiver of anticipation skitters through me.

“You’re a dirty princesa,” he murmurs, pressing his ravenous mouth to mine. “There’s no denying it.”

No, there isn’t. And I expect to be a dirtier princesa by the end of the night.

CHAPTER FIVE

ANTONIO

DINNER WENT ON FOREVER.

As much as I enjoy my friends, by the end of the evening, I was aching to be alone with my wife.

On the plus side, Daniela didn’t have any trouble leaving Valentina behind. It was obvious that she would be in good hands. The worst that might happen is she stays up too late or falls into a dessert-induced coma. But I have a feeling Gabby won’t let either of those things happen.

When we arrive at Wildflower, I tell the burly guard to turn off the security cameras. Gray’s called ahead, so he doesn’t blink an eye at the instruction.

“I’ll be right here all night if there’s anything you need. Either of you.” He looks directly at Daniela. “There’s a box at the entrance of each room and several in the hallways that can be used to contact me, either by pushing the black button or using the intercom system. Don’t hesitate to call. It’s self-explanatory. You won’t have any trouble figuring it out. The red button,” he continues, “is for emergency services. The equivalent of a 911 call. I don’t recommend using that button unless you need the EMTs.”

As he speaks, I feel Daniela tense beside me. This is new for her, and the mention of EMTs, I’m sure, conjured up the boogeyman in her wild imagination.

“Gray said you have a key.”

“I do.”

“Do you know where you’re going?”

I nod. “Goodnight,” I mutter, before leading Daniela to the elevator, where we wait in silence. The kind of silence that makes the air heavy with uncertainty. Not mine. Hers.

“You okay?”

She nods, with that tiny forced smile she flashes when she’s not okay.

“You’re lying, Princesa.” The elevator doors open, and we get in. “The warning about emergency services does not pertain to us. The only reason we would need to call the EMTs is if your pussy milks my cock so hard it gives me a heart attack.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she teases with a smile. A real smile this time. “I’m not worried about anything happening. I’m just a little nervous because this is new to me, and—”

“And?”

“Have you played here before?” She knows the answer is yes.

“Do you really want to spend what little time we have together combing through my sex life before you? Because I don’t.”

Fuck. That wasn’t the right response. It was too gruff. Too dismissive. I have more sexual experience than she does, and most of the women before her were more experienced, too. But not one of them can hold a candle to her. Not a single one. Daniela knows this too, and normally she could give a shit about anyone from my past. But she’s nervous, and it’s spilling out in ways it doesn’t normally. She needs a little reassurance.

“I’ve played here. But not where we’re going to play tonight. It will be a new experience for me too.” The doors open before I finish, but she’s still inside her head, and I don’t want to let this go. “Hey.” I pull her out of the elevator and force her to look at me. “I think you’ll love what I have planned. I’m sure of it.”

She rolls her eyes, and whatever was bothering her seems to have lessened. “You are so arrogant.”

“True. But you like that about me.” I take her hand. “Let me show you around.”

CHAPTER SIX

DANIELA

WE STEP into an elegant foyer with a Persian rug, club chairs, and framed artwork depicting the hunt. It all seems like old money. Very old money. “This place has an uber-masculine feel, like a swanky men’s club.”

“It feels classic to me, although I can see how you get a masculine vibe. But don’t kid yourself, half of the members who play here, regularly, are women.”

It doesn’t surprise me that half the people who play here are women, but I am surprised that they’re members. In some strange way, it’s reassuring.

We pass by doors with shiny brass plates: The Stable, The Palace, The Queen’s Quarters, The Dungeon. It goes on and on. “Does the nameplate depict what’s behind the door?”

“For the most part. Each room is a self-contained fantasy,” Antonio explains while we walk. “No cost has been spared.”

“Are we going to play in these rooms?” I’m vacillating between an excited child and a nervous Nellie. Although I can’t explain where the nerves are coming from. I want this experience—at least I think I do.

“We’re not going to play in these rooms. Are you curious about what’s behind the doors?”

“Of course I am. If you didn’t know, wouldn’t you be curious?”

Antonio snickers. “Maybe tomorrow I’ll borrow a key and give you a more comprehensive tour.” Comprehensive slides off his tongue in a way that makes the beat between my legs stronger.

“If we’re not playing here, what are we doing?”

“I had a fantasy designed especially for you. ”

I stop, and draw a heavy breath, gazing into my husband’s beautiful face, with its strong jaw and day’s-worth of scruff. Some couples bond over a shared love of music, or movies, or even food. We enjoy those too, but our greatest connection has always been through exploring our sexual fantasies—mostly exploring mine.

Antonio has shattered boundaries to take me places that I didn’t know existed, or that I was too ashamed to imagine. Tonight’s going to be one of those nights.

“You designed a fantasy for me? You’re out of control. And I love you for it. But why are we still standing here?” I tease, brushing my fingertips over his dark stubble, before reality hits me like a steel plate dropped on my chest.

“Does everyone know about this?” I choke out. “Does Gray know we’re here? What about Delilah?” Oh my God.

Antonio places a hand on each of my upper arms. “Of course, everyone doesn’t know. But it would have been impossible to bring my idea to life without telling Gray. It is his club.”

I feel the color drain from my cheeks. It’s one thing to have kinky sex with Antonio, it’s quite another for our friends to know the dirty details.

“How am I ever going to be able to look him in the eye tomorrow?”

“He’s getting married tomorrow. As sexy as you are, somehow I think he’ll be more preoccupied with the bride than with you.” Antonio’s tone is light, but not dismissive. Something about it soothes my worst fears.

I take a calming breath. And then another.

“This is business for Gray,” he adds. “While there’s some personal sense of satisfaction in making fantasies come to life, even for a few hours, he isn’t some fuckboy who gets off thinking about what people do in these rooms.”

Antonio gives me a moment to chew on his words. “If you don’t want to do this, we’ll get on that elevator and never look back. If you think I need anything down here to own your pussy, you’re crazy.”

I feel childish. And foolish. But still a bit embarrassed about having sex in Gray’s club. Although, I will be disappointed if we leave now.

“What I won’t do,” Antonio continues, “is force you to play here, or decide for you.” He tips my chin up. “Even though I think you’d love for me to take the decision out of your hands.”

The bastard put his finger on it. That’s exactly what I’d like. At times like this, submission is freeing, especially for someone, like me, who grew up in a strict environment and was taught that sex isn’t about fun. I’ve certainly come a long way. Antonio’s been a patient teacher, but he’s not afraid to call me out. Like now.

“I’m quite capable of making my own decisions,” I huff. “But I want to see more—to know more—before I decide.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” He doesn’t gloat, but he knows he’s won. Actually, it’s a win for both of us.

We turn left at the end of the hall and continue to a door with a shiny brass plate, like the others. This one has The Labyrinth engraved on it.

I glance at my husband, with unchecked lust in his eyes, raw and salacious. The devil has come to Charleston and he wants to play.

Sliding my hands across his chest, I trace the contours slowly, enjoying the hard muscle beneath my fingertips. “The Labyrinth?”

CHAPTER SEVEN

ANTONIO

“IT’S A MAZE. A GRAND MAZE.”

“I know what it is.”

I doubt you have any idea, Princesa.

“Why a labyrinth?”

“It has ancient roots in erotica, dating back centuries. Men, and women, chased all kinds of prey through intricate paths, sometimes toying with them, before cornering their prize and going in for the kill. The kill didn’t always mean death—it depended on the predator, and of course, the prey.”

Her chest heaves as she nods, the flush of arousal staining her delicate skin. My balls are already tight, and we haven’t even started.

We stand outside the door, but I don’t move to open it. I want her to decide if she’s going to play the game. Most of the time I decide, and she comes along, happily. But there are times, like this, when I tempt her into the shadows. When I force her to embrace her sexuality—her darkest desires and the pleasure that comes with them. It’s not always easy for her, but it’s empowering. And she’s getting so much better at it.

I’ll stand here all goddamn night if that’s what it takes, but after voicing concerns about Gray, she has to own this decision.

“Are we going inside?” she asks in that sassy tone that makes my cock weep, “Or are we just going to stand in the hall until you’re too old to have an erection?”

She’s decided.

My control is fraying at the edges. It takes everything I have to hold onto some semblance of composure. This is her fantasy, but it’s mine, too.

“Be careful what you wish for, Princesa.” I wrap every syllable in the kind of warning that makes her wet, before unlocking the door and turning on a lamp.

She’s quiet as she enters. I can almost hear her heart pounding. I’m not sure if it’s excitement, or fear, or perhaps both. The one thing I am sure about is that she’s unlikely to change her mind now. She hates weakness, especially in herself, and I’m too much of an asshole to give her an easy way out at this point. I want her too much.

“That’s a dressing room to the left and a lavish bathroom beyond it. There’s a bedroom here,” I direct her attention to the right, “with a small refrigerator, extra blankets, and a basket of snacks, including your favorite chocolate. We’ll relax here when we’re done.”

Daniela takes a few steps into the bedroom but doesn’t utter a peep while she lets it soak in.

“Is this what you expected?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know what I expected, but not this. It’s classy and comfortable, even a bit cozy with the fireplace. And clean.”

“The people who belong to this club are politicians from all over the world, kings, and queens, CEOs of Fortune 500 companies, and the like. They’re big into creature comforts. And cleanliness,” I tease.

She presses her lips together to hide a wide smile, but the gold flecks in her eyes are dancing. “Is there a labyrinth, beyond that archway?”

I cradle her face in my hands, and lower my mouth to hers, biting on that full bottom lip as I pull away. “See for yourself.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

DANIELA

LEAVING ALL MISGIVINGS BEHIND, I step through the graceful arch to embrace the fantasy. I might not know what’s on the other side, but I trust Antonio implicitly. And I want him with every cell of my being.

I stop just inside the doorway, awed by what he’s created for me. For us.

The space is dim, but there’s a full moon and a smattering of stars overhead. A well-groomed hedge takes up almost all the expansive space. It’s tall—maybe seven feet—with twinkling white lights woven through the dense foliage. Large lanterns and two stone urns, with sculpted topiaries, flank what appears to be the entrance. The ground is covered with soft grass as far as the eye can see, and the air perfumed with plum, bayberry, and musk.

It’s magical. There’s no other way to describe it. Magical.

“Are you going to chase me through the labyrinth?” I ask, with the excitement pulsing through me, reflected in my voice.

“I am, Princesa. I’m going to hunt you down, and when I capture you, I’m going to do every filthy thing you can imagine, and a dozen that have never crossed your mind.”

My mouth is so dry, I need to swallow before I can form words. “What if I make it to the end before you catch me?”

“Then it’s lady’s choice.” He waggles his brow, playfully, like a man who doesn’t believe he can lose. “You get to choose what happens first.”

“You’ll do whatever I want?” Antonio happily taking instruction in the bedroom—or anywhere—seems so far-fetched I almost laugh out loud.

He circles my breast gently, before massaging my nipples between his thumbs and index fingers. “Within reason. You’re not shoving a butt plug in my ass if that’s what you’re imagining.”

I laugh softly and press my hands to his chest. Even my wildest imaginings would never include Antonio wearing a butt plug. “I’m thinking more about what you’ll be doing to me from your knees, my dark prince, not what I’ll be doing to you.”

I hear the low hiss and feel the rumble under my fingertips. It infuses me with a heady sense of power that’s intoxicating.

“I have so much to say about how amazing this all is, and so many questions about how you managed to pull it off, but they’ll wait until we’re resting, later. Right now, I’m dying to walk into that labyrinth.”

“You can go in, but not before the stopwatch begins.” His voice is low and husky, and his eyes pitch black. “I’m going to give you a head start. But I would recommend running, not walking if you expect to beat me to the center.”

“This reminds me of the time in the Port cave. Although it’s not exactly the same.” Thank God.

“That was my intention. You bring up that night often—often enough to convince me you’d like to repeat the experience. Although this setting is more befitting a princesa. But don’t let the serenity fool you. Nothing is ever tame when you’re being chased—even if it’s through an exquisite maze.”

“Oh, I’m not fooled. Nothing is ever tame with you. Certainly not this kind of game.”

“Is that a complaint?”

I gift him my best sultry smile while slipping off my shoes. “My only complaint is that we’re still talking.” With provocative glances in his direction, I put on a little show, slowly undressing, until I’m wearing only a red lace bra and matching thong.

“I learned from that time in the cave that clothing rustles and can give away your location.”

Antonio’s wolfish gaze roves over every inch of my skin. For a moment, I’m certain he’s going to abandon the game and fuck me right here.

“Do you have an idea how much I want to hunt you?” I think I do.

“If I had known I’d be hunted tonight, I would have worn camouflage.” I place a hand over his thumping heart, reminding us both that it belongs to me. “Do you have any idea how much I want you to hunt me?”

He lowers his arm and dips two fingers into my thong, not to pleasure me, but to measure my arousal. It’s brazenly possessive, meant to make me feel a twinge of shame to heighten the experience. But I feel none. Not a single drop.

“I know exactly how much you want it,” Antonio murmurs, his gaze searing as he sucks his glistening fingers into his mouth.

I back away, inching to the entrance of the labyrinth, because if I don’t move, now, we’ll end up devouring each other, on this spot.

“Wait,” he cautions, taking what looks to be a ribbon necklace, from a hook on the wall. It appears to have a small remote dangling from a sturdy clasp.

Antonio carefully places the long satin ribbon over my head and adjusts the remote dangling between my breasts like a charm. “This is your safeword tonight. If you press the button, it beeps and the lights go on so I can get to you quickly.”

I hold the remote in my hand. I understand all about using safewords in case the play gets out of hand. Mine is red. But I’ll be navigating a maze. Under normal circumstances, that shouldn’t get out of hand. These aren’t normal circumstances. This is Antonio. “Why do I need this remote?”

“If you trip and fall, or if the special effects frighten you more than I expect. You press this button,” he taps his finger on the remote, “everything stops, and I’ll be able to find you in seconds. The maze looks enormous, but it’s not. The difficulty in reaching the center is in its intricacy.”

“Special effects?”

His dangerous glint tells me whatever he has planned will take us toe-to-toe with the fires of hell. Where the rules—most of them—go out the window, while we indulge his most primal desires. And mine.

“Special effects,” he repeats matter-of-factly, but I’m not fooled by the casual tone. “Unless you’d like to play without them.”

It’s a challenge. I lift my chin. “Where’s your remote?”

He laughs, but his eyes flicker with menace. “It’s the prey that needs protection, Princesa, not the predator.”

We’ll see.

“I’ll give you a ten-minute head start.” He pulls a small stopwatch out of his pocket and holds it up for me to see. “There’s a waterfall at the center of the maze, whoever gets to it first, wins.”

“Don’t make me wait too long, or I’ll have to take matters into my own hands,” I taunt, as I take off into the maze.

CHAPTER NINE

DANIELA

ONCE I ROUND the first corner, I pull off my bra and drop it on the path for him to find. It lands as all the lights go out. Fortunately, the moon and stars are brighter in the dark, and I can still see, but it’s not as easy to find my way.

I make a wrong turn and end up at a dead end, but I quickly retrace my steps and take a different route. My bare feet sink into the soft grass as I run, but the path is unlit, and I begin to worry that I’ll step on something and cut myself.

Don’t be silly. This is a highly-controlled environment. I know it is, but the darkness, or maybe the chase, has the adrenaline flowing, and it’s already altering my perception. But I don’t stop.

A few moments later, I slip off my thong and toss it on the ground like a breadcrumb. That’s when the baying begins.

My heart pumps viciously, even though I know there are no wolves in the labyrinth. As if mocking me, the baying becomes louder. Closer. A lone wolf crosses the path ahead, and I skid to a stop and freeze. My heart’s in my throat, taking up so much space, I can barely breathe.

The necklace hangs heavy around my neck, as the wolf growls, before disappearing into the thicket. Although, I’m not sure it’s gone. There’s a murky shadow, where the powerful animal last stood. Maybe it’s lying in wait.

I still for a moment, deciding whether to go forward on the path or turn around.

My pulse races, as I finger the remote. Don’t be ridiculous. The wolf is a decoy, meant to send you off course. It’s not real.

While I’m paralyzed by the terror that’s captured my imagination, an owl swoops down. I don’t see it until it’s almost on top of me. Without thinking, I scream and cover my head, falling to my knees before it makes another pass. It just misses me.

It’s a hologram, Daniela. They’re holograms—that’s all.

Before I surrender to my fears, I force myself up and run, and run.

After several minutes, I slow to a walk to catch my breath and listen for any sign of Antonio. I’m not sure I’ve made any progress toward the center.

It’s mostly quiet, except for some rustling on the other side of the hedge. Maybe it’s him. I shouldn’t have screamed. Now he’ll know exactly where to find me. Get moving, Daniela. Now!

I make several more wrong turns which frustrates me. It’s getting warmer, and my skin is covered in a light sheen. “Princesa!” I hear from somewhere behind me. “Princesa!” Antonio calls again, but this time his voice is coming from up ahead. He can’t possibly be moving that quickly. It’s a trick. “When I catch you, I’ll hold you captive until I’ve fucked every sweet hole, and squeezed every drop of pleasure from my beautiful angel.”

Even with terror coursing through my veins, my pussy clenches at his filthy talk, and I take off, determined to find the center of the maze.

I don’t know how much time passes, but the wolves are baying loudly and a cloud is covering the moon, making it even harder to see.

“Princesa, I’m so close I can smell your arousal.” His powerful voice echoes through the labyrinth, as a small rabbit runs across the path in front of me. I stop short, my pulse racing, but I don’t scream.

This is maddening. It feels as though I’m backtracking. I’m never going to find my way to the center.

After running for what seems like hours, dipping around sharp bends that take me nowhere, I stop to catch my breath, again. The smell of plum and berries is more pungent now. I listen for any sign Antonio’s close, but there’s nothing. Nothing but bubbling water.

Bubbling water. The waterfall. I hear the waterfall. Yes! I’ve reached the center! “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” my better sense chides. It’s probably just a special effect to lure me off the path, but I’m going to follow it, regardless.

The water sounds like it’s coming from just the other side, but the hedge is too tall to see over.

I continue for about fifteen feet and make a left at the crossroad where a pack of wolves waits up ahead, blocking my way. While they’re a chilling sight, I know, then, that I’m on the right path. You can do this. You’re almost there.

As desperate as I am to win, I don’t run toward the fierce animals, I creep slowly, not taking my eyes off them for a second, but never making eye contact.

They growl and bare their teeth as I approach.

They’re not real. But they look real. They sound real. Very real. Stop it! You’re working yourself up. Stop!

I focus on the trickling water while inching toward the pack. When I’m an arm’s length away, they disappear, and just beyond is a muted light. I’ve reached the center.

To my delight, when I arrive, Antonio is nowhere to be found, but there are bottles of water on ice. I grab one and take several gulps, before wiggling my hips in a small victory dance.

As my breathing calms, I become acutely aware of my nakedness, but the excitement of beating him overcomes any embarrassment.

I stand in the center of paradise, lit by lanterns and votives, and take it all in, while the gurgling water soothes my nerves.

A wooden platform, the size of a single bed, sits at one end of the oasis. It’s covered with thick white quilts and rose petals. A large cask sits on the other end. It’s not so different from the barrel he fucked me over the night he chased me through the caves. In between the two, there’s an elaborate raised throne. In the center of the throne, lies a perfect red apple and a crown of flowers and ribbons, befitting a wood nymph—or a princesa.

This filthy fantasy is wound with fairytale trappings that arouse a sense of make-believe that my grown-up self has never experienced. It’s addictive.

Climbing the gilded step, I take a bite of the apple before settling into the intricately-carved throne. While awaiting my dark prince, I arrange the crown on my damp hair, eyeing the barrel, with its gleaming wood. The longer I stare, the more it beckons.

I’m struggling with temptation when Antonio appears, wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants, so thin I can see the outline of his thick cock. He steals my breath, again, although he’s not even winded.

“You let me win?”

“Never,” he replies, although I’m not convinced. “It never mattered who got here first. In this game, we both win.”

“What does your heart desire, Princesa?” He removes the ribbon, and runs a finger between my breasts, in a slow agonizing tease. “Name it, and it’s yours.”

Without a pang of shame, I hook a leg over each arm of the throne. “Lick me until I scream.”

CHAPTER TEN

DANIELA

WITH A GHOST OF A SMILE, Antonio kneels between my legs. “I tracked the scent of your arousal as I hunted you, Princesa. The evidence is on your thighs, and here.” His fingertip glides over my pussy and I gasp. “I think you liked being chased through the woods. Hunted like a wild animal.”

His gaze is dangerous, and having my legs open, like this, gives him too much control. But when I move to slide them off the arms of the throne, he pins them there.

“Oh no, meu amor. You can decide what happens first, but I never said you could be in charge of the details. I will lick you for as long as I choose, and you will keep your legs spread wide, and take everything I give you. My mouth, my hands, my cock—you’ll take it all.”

I close my eyes and let the tremor run through me. The devil that has come to play, will not be exorcised until he’s had his fill.

“First, tell me one thing.” He runs a thumb across my cheek. “I caught you eyefucking the barrel when I got here. Why didn’t you choose it? I hope you didn’t bypass the barrel because you were shy about embracing what you want. What you need.” His voice is low, but his words are laced with an ominous threat. His guess is not even close to being right.

I peer into his eyes and shake my head. “Part of my prize for winning is that I choose this, with all its power, but the other part is that I choose to submit. The cask is a wicked prop for submission.” I feel the smile and the flush at the same time, a warm surge beginning and ending deep in my core.

“A greedy, princesa. My favorite kind.”

Without another word, his face disappears between my legs. I let my head fall back to the velvet cushion, and enjoy his warm tongue sweeping circles over my sensitive flesh. It’s heavenly, and I don’t bother to keep the sighs and whimpers to myself.

Antonio tongues me with abandonment, before clamping his lips to my clit with the skill of a master and the depravity of a demon.

I arch my back and squeeze the arms of the chair until he releases his punishing grip, running his flat tongue ruthlessly over my flesh, lapping up my pleasure, and sending me spiraling—but before I come, he pulls away.

“No!” I whine. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop. I’m so close.”

He smirks like a smug bastard who knows he took me right to the edge. A sadistic lover who enjoys my pleas.

“I want you hungry for the entrée. Ravenous. I want you grinding your pretty pussy into that oak barrel without inhibition—chasing the orgasm until your face is red and you’re panting like an animal.” He gently brushes the hair off my face. “Were you panting while I chased you through the maze?”

Yes, just like I’m panting now. “I hope your balls are so heavy and tight that they ache.”

“Oh, Princesa,” he tuts. “You need to mind your manners. It doesn’t matter how much my balls ache, it’s going to be a long, torturous slide to the edge for you. But your sassiness just earned you a spanking.” There’s the evil smirk, again. “When I’m done with you tonight, you’ll need to be carried out of this labyrinth.”

I moan. It’s loud and shameless, straight from the gut. My pussy is throbbing so hard that my entire body is shaking. I want his cock, and right now, I’d do anything for it. Anything.

Antonio scoops me off the throne like I weigh nothing. “Your shoulder,” I cry as he carries me to the cask. But he doesn’t hear me, or he’s as worked up as I am and doesn’t give a damn.

My body hums as he sets me astride the barrel. The cool, polished wood is heavenly on my overheated pussy, and I squirm against it for a bit of relief.

“Don’t you dare,” he growls, pulling off his pants. “That orgasm is mine to rip from your gorgeous body.” I palm the wood, digging in my fingers to stay upright as I admire his cock. It’s heavy and thick, jutting out beneath a trail of dark hair. I attempt to lap the milky bead from the crown, but he steps out of reach.

“Do you remember how good that cork stopper felt against your clit in the cave?” I do.

The sensations inside have reached a crescendo, and I abandon myself fully to the fantasy. To him. The ground shifts as the words and the play become visceral, more desperate, dirtier.

He places his hands on my arms to steady me. “Scoot up and wedge your cunt against it.”

I slide toward the large stopper, that’s not made of cork. It’s smooth and rounded and feels—almost like— I shudder when it vibrates. “What-What is it?” I pant, not really caring what it is as long as those delicious pulses continue.

“A special wand made to fit the cask. Hold on tight,” he instructs, pressing my upper back forward until my belly is flat on the wood. The vibrations are dull and erratic against my clit, now, meant to build pleasure not release it. It’s another tease that makes me wild.

You’re a sassy Princesa and you need to learn a lesson.” I whimper. “Just my hand. I want to feel your ass warm as I strike it. No barriers. No boundaries. Just us. Skin to skin.”

The vibrations stroke my clit roughly as his hand comes down, and the sting blooms. Crack! I gasp and try to squirm away, but he keeps a tight grip on me.

There’s no escape.

His flat palm comes down on my ass, again, and again, and again. Crack! Crack! Crack!

My cunt is hot and wet. My clit swollen, aching to burst. The vibrations are powerful and deep. Demons. “Antonio,” I plead, but he has no mercy for me, only breathtaking torment that drives me closer to the edge.

Every muscle in my belly coils tight. The sweat trickles into my eyes as my body trembles with each new flood of sensation. I slip into another universe, one where there is only pleasure. Only us.

“I’m coming,” I squeal, as the orgasm engulfs me, yanking me into a furious whorl. My tortured cries fill the air while I sink deeper and deeper into the dark.

“Fly, meu amor,” Antonio urges. “Give it all to me. I’ve got you. Let go.”

He’s on the barrel behind me, now—I don’t know how he got there. But he holds me against his chest, his mouth caressing gently as the muted vibrations lick my clit. I ride out the orgasm in the safety of his arms. My back to his front. His steely cock wedged between us.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, pulling my head up so I can look into a gilded mirror positioned in the hedge. I hadn’t seen it before. More magic. “So beautiful,” he coos. “Inside and out. So good. Do you know how much I love to watch you come apart?” His voice is low and hoarse, like a thick layer of honed gravel underfoot. “Do you know how much I love you? You’re my life, Daniela. There’s no close second.” He smooths my hair, pressing tender kisses along my skin until every muscle in my body unspools.

It’s when I’m lulled into a sense of peace, that he sinks his teeth into the tendon running along my shoulder.

“Ahhhh.” The sound emerges as a groan and I begin to tremble, again.

“I’m not done, Princesa. I’ll never be done with you.” He lifts my hips, and impales me on his hungry cock, filling me completely. “Fuck. You feel so damn good.”

Guiding my hips in a savage rhythm, he whispers in my ear, his hot breath and dirty talk arousing me, again. I’ll never get enough of this man. Never.

“This is only the beginning for us, Princesa. We have a lifetime to love each other.”

Thank you for supporting this project of my heart! If you have read A Sinful Empire Trilogy, Southern Hospitality is bonus content that falls between the last chapter of Envy and Epilogue I. If you enjoyed Southern Hospitality and want more of Antonio and Daniela’s epic love story, begin with Greed https://books2read.com/eva-charles-greed. If you want more of the Charleston crew, begin with Depraved https://books2read.com/eva-charles-depraved.

About the Author

Eva Charles is the bestselling author of steamy romantic suspense featuring dangerous billionaires, strong heroines, and jaw-dropping twists and turns. You can chat with her in the usual places:

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AS PLANNED

EVA MOORE

THE STRONG FOREARM draped across her chest tightened, and she smiled. The firm erection against her ass had her arching her back for more. But it was his sleep-rough voice in her ear that made her heart flutter.

“Hello, sunshine,” Jake whispered against Frankie’s neck as he kissed her awake.

“Mmmm,” she replied, rocking her hips back into his in encouragement. She knew from experience that sexy times with her fiancé was a wonderful way to start the day.

When he slid his hand over her hip, anchoring her against him in the tiny bed, she lifted her sleep shirt to allow his pinned arm easier access where she wanted him.

Her breasts were sensitive this morning, and his gentle caress was ticklish instead of tantalizing. Frankie gripped Jake’s hand more tightly against her and was rewarded with a growl and his other hand making a beeline for the aching spot between her legs. Hard and fast suited her just fine.

Jake put his mouth to work, biting her shoulder and saying all the right filthy things to get her dripping wet. His fingers awakened her clit, her orgasm rising surprisingly quickly.

“Now, Jake.”

“Who’s the director, here?”

“If you want to keep your title as dick-rector, you need to get inside me right now. This wake-up party is happening with or without you.”

With a sleepy chuckle, he gave her what she wanted, the fullness and complete connection she’d only ever felt with him. They’d been together for two years, and every time still filled her up with a love and contentment that surprised her.

Today was no exception. He lifted her top leg and draped it back over his hip, entering her from behind while continuing his teasing torment on her clit. He pumped his thick length inside her over and over, swelling her heart with every thrust until she burst, shaking and shuddering, his own release following right behind. Jake had become the king of the quickie, finding an impressive number of places for them to spend a bit of private time despite their busy filming schedule. But these quiet moments in their RV, wrapped up in the cozy cocoon of their bed were her favorite.

Definitely an excellent start to a busy day.

Frankie rolled and groaned.

“Stay,” Jake murmured into her pillow, still recovering himself, flinging a feeble arm in her direction.

“No rest for the wicked, and I need a shower.” She pushed to her feet and the room spun, so she sat back down with a quiet ugh. Every bone in her body ached from the packed filming day they’d had yesterday, and she longed to curl back under the cool covers and burrow for another hour minimum.

“You okay, babe?”

“Yeah, just tired and sore. I’m fine.” She pressed her eyes closed until the nauseous spinning stopped.

“I’ll make you coffee.”

He’d make the coffee as much for himself as for her, but he’d bring her one just the way she liked it, so it counted as sweet and not self-serving.

Conquering the dizziness, Frankie stepped into the tiny shower stall and let the hot water wake her the rest of the way up. She rushed a bit, needing to be on-set early to talk to the safety supervisor and tree specialist.

Wrapped in a towel, Frankie opened the bathroom door to find Jake waiting with a steaming mug of the magic bean juice he mainlined all day long. He inhaled over his cup deeply, his eyes rolling back in his head, but her stomach rolled right along with them. Ugh, indeed. With a queasy groan, she stepped back. “No, thanks.”

“No coffee? You okay?” Jake moved the offending cup away. Frankie couldn’t be sure if he’d done it for her comfort or the safety of the coffee, but she’d give him the benefit of the doubt.

“I think there was something off with the fish at craft services yesterday. My stomach feels wonky.”

He put his hand on her brow, and she sighed at the cool comfort on her face and in her heart.

“I hope you’re not getting sick,” he murmured.

“I know. We have a packed schedule getting the park ready to re-open and hitting our production deadlines.”

“Or maybe I just don’t like knowing you don’t feel well and I can’t fix it. Maybe not everything I worry about is show-related. Do you need to take a day?”

“Bite your tongue. No, I’m fine. I’m sure I’ll feel better once I get moving.” Frankie pushed past him into the cramped bedroom. She leaned over to get a pair of jeans and a clean t-shirt from the bottom drawer and regretted it immediately. She swayed, and Jake took her hand to steady her against him, before kissing the beautiful diamond ring he’d put on her finger, promising a lifetime of chasing dreams. She wore it on a chain around her neck while she was working, but she liked to feel the weight of its promise on her hand while she slept.

Unfortunately, his sweet gesture brought his coffee breath into close range, and it was all Frankie could do to get past him into the tiny RV bathroom before casting the meager contents of her stomach into the black tank.

Pulling back her hair into a finger-grasped ponytail and rubbing gentle circles on her back, Jake made a shushing sound and flushed. It helped. It always surprised her when his soft side came out, but it shouldn’t. She knew it was there, just below the chiseled surface, hers whenever she needed it. Frankie leaned back against the shower stall, and Jake offered her a glass of water.

“Where was that from?” she asked, well aware that his parents had been more interested in the paycheck he brought home as a child actor than his physical welfare.

“Season four, episode seven. Britt was supposed to have the flu and Brenda took care of her. I paid attention.”

“She was good for you.”

“She was the best. Now let me take care of you. I’m cancelling your morning.”

“The hell you are. I’m fine. Now that I’ve got it out of my system, I’ll feel better in no time.”

“Frankie,” he began. She cut his determination off at the knees.

“No. Our deadlines are tight, we’ve got the special crew on site for the tree day, and I’m not going to let a little bad salmon cost us thousands.” She gripped his face to make him look and see the truth. “I’m fine. Just maybe no coffee today.”

“For me or for you?” he asked, his mock horror earning a laugh.

“For me. God forbid you go a day without the elixir of life.”

“For you, anything.”

JAKE STEPPED into the narrow hallway of the cozy RV they’d parked at the Big Basin Redwoods State Park. Their building location was too remote for daily commuting, so he and Frankie were currently living on site. He cranked open the windows over the sink to air out the kitchenette and poured the rest of the coffee into a sealed travel mug, before rinsing out the pot and throwing away the grounds. He tied off the grounds and took them outside along with his morning hit of caffeine. The cool coastal air soothed his heated skin, and calmed his racing mind. She just ate something funky. It’s an upset stomach. She’ll be fine.

Frankie. Indomitable and fearless, stronger than she looked and stubborn with it, it felt unnatural for her to be sick. When she’d caught the flu last winter, he’d almost worked himself into a panic attack trying to help her feel better. He’d been woefully ill-prepared for the experience.

Just now, he’d told her a half truth. It was true that he remembered his show-mother Brenda holding back his show-sister’s hair, but after last winter, he’d spent one of his show-dad Martin Milton’s famous BBQ’s holed up with Martin’s wife, Joan, peppering her with questions about how to take care of someone when they’re sick. There were odd gaps in his education thanks to shitty parents. But he was moving beyond that and actively repairing his relationships with the people who truly cared about him, namely his show-family and his soon-to-be in-laws.

The Valentis were a tight-knit family, and now that he was joining the fold, he needed to hold his own when it came to protecting their youngest member. Although with the three toddlers running around thanks to Frankie’s older siblings, he supposed she didn’t qualify as the youngest anymore. But Frankie would forever be Dom’s little girl, and Jake was still learning the many ways that impacted his relationship with the woman he loved.

The bonus to having such fertile siblings was that the pressure was off. Frankie had made it clear that kids weren’t a priority for her, and he happily agreed. He’d had a horrible childhood and the idea of keeping such a tiny thing alive, let alone raising it to be a decent human being felt impossible. He had zero life experiences to pull from and the stakes were sky high. He was happy to be Unkie Jake for all of the Valenti crew. Dad? No, thank you.

He walked down the cleared dirt path towards the hive of activity already buzzing near the newly constructed visitor’s center. They’d built this together. With his drive and funding and Frankie’s personality and energy, their plan to start their own network was off to a great start.

He surveyed the build site, camera crew in place, sub-contractors plumbing out the new shower house, and tree climbing specialist coiling his ropes at the foot of a massive redwood. Everything rolling out just as they’d planned.

“Good morning,” he called out as he crossed to the park ranger on his way to the Sequoia sempervirens Frankie would be climbing this morning.

Antonio Ramirez, the park ranger assigned to their crew, waved in response, busy sipping his own coffee.

“Are we ready for the tree climb today?” he asked when Jake got closer.

“As we’ll ever be, I think. I need to check-in with the specialist, but we should be good to go. Everything good on your end?”

“All good here. The permits have cleared, and we’re lucky we’ve hit a relatively low fog day. But I do need to talk to you about the opening day events and the governor’s requests.”

STANDING in the middle of four people, all waiting for him to solve their problems, was where Frankie found him fifteen minutes later. Jake was always at the center of every swarm. His confident command and endless knowledge made him an excellent director. Winning his approval was a heady drug, as Frankie well knew. She didn’t begrudge anyone trying to earn his smile.

She’d hit the jackpot when she’d earned his heart.

Leaving him to put out the various and sundry spot-fires that cropped up on an active film set, Frankie crossed to the towering coastal redwood she’d be climbing today. Just arching her neck to see the top made her dizzy. This tree was nearly six hundred years old and had survived the fire that leveled the historic visitor’s center of the popular state park. It would likely live for another six hundred along with the new redwoods already sprouting up at the base of charred parent trunks.

It would surely survive her climbing it with a Go-Pro on her head to get a survey shot of the site and a bird’s eye view of the ocean.

Their new network featuring renovations for a cause had done better in their first year than she’d dared dream. Fifteen regular shows under contract, plus longer limited series events, linked fundraising platforms, and social media accounts, all taking off. And her show, her ideas, firmly at the center of it all.

Together, she and Jake had driven this dream to reality, but centering her meant that viewers expected to see “signature Frankie.” They wanted the antics and fearless risk-taking she’d become known for on Million-Dollar Starter Home.

So here she was, getting ready to climb a tree older than her country. Anything for a good gasp. She stepped into the harness and put on the helmet the tree specialist handed her and waited patiently while he tightened and adjusted her straps. She checked them again herself for good measure before glancing at her watch. It was go time.

Jake was still engrossed in morning triage, so she turned to the camera crew on the ground herself.

“We good?”

“Yep. All charged and set.” An assistant stepped in front of her to turn on the camera attached to her helmet and then snapped a slate in front of her face and again in front of the camera on the ground.

“Action!” Frankie said nodding at the crew. “So, you’ve seen the beauty of this park from our vantage point, firmly on the ground. But the real star here at Big Basin are the trees. And what better way to show off this park, than to show you what they see, towering above us.”

Frankie gestured to the tree behind her, recalling all of the safety instructions from the day before delivered by both the ranger and the specialist, and began to climb. On the ground, the climbing specialist manned the belay rope in case she slipped.

From here she could see Jake crossing to the base of the tree, a frown on his face. She wondered what problem put the crease between his eyebrows and almost lost her grip leaning back. Shifting her weight forward and her attention back to the moment, she resumed her patter as she steadily ascended.

“Just look at this view! On the ground, we’ve showed you the forest floor coming back to life, but up here, the tops are starting to green up as well. These gentle giants are made to withstand the heat of fire, their bark being a natural deterrent. By the time we finish the visitor’s center, the park will be ready to welcome you with open arms.”

She gestured around her, with one hand, as she perched on a branch. That would be a good shock value shot.

Frankie glanced down to get a shot of the construction site from above, and everything went sideways, including her sense of balance. Tethered to the trunk of a tree three hundred feet in the air was a terrible place to get dizzy. Her vision started to blur around the edges and she over-corrected by leaning back as her grip on her safety line slackened. She fell backward from her seat, the world continuing to spin on the way down. A swift sizzle filled her ears as the rope slipped too fast through the hooks above her. She cracked her knee, shoulder, and hip against the massive trunk before the rope caught her weight.

“Get her down now!”

Jake’s panicked shout was the last thing she heard before she cracked her head on the trunk and the world went dark.

PAIN. Dull throbbing pain everywhere, pulled Frankie from the darkness. Her shoulder and hip were on fire. Her knees and elbows burned. Her head throbbed with every heartbeat, but at least that was proof she was alive and not in hell.

Jake. I need Jake.

She’d managed the words with closed eyes, but at the sound of the door opening she managed to open them a slit before wincing. She was in a hospital room, connected to beeping monitors and an IV bag. But the person at the door wasn’t Jake. It was a nurse in green scrubs who looked too young to have even graduated from high school let alone med school. Where was Jake?

Frankie closed her eyes against the pain and disappointment.

“Welcome back, Ms. Valenti. You gave us quite a scare.”

The nurse’s voice was just perky enough to slice directly through Frankie’s pounding skull, and she winced.

“What happened?” she whispered.

“You tried to dance with a tree on the way down.”

Right. The tree. She remembered getting ready to climb it, but then things went black.

“You know, I just love your new show. I think what you’re doing to bring back the park is so special.”

Frankie nodded and immediately regretted it. Her stomach rolled and pitched, and pain lit up everywhere in her brain. She gagged, and the nurse immediately shoved a bed pan in her face to catch whatever was left in her stomach.

“Careful! You’ve got a nasty concussion along with a dislocated shoulder, fractured pelvis, and myriad scrapes and contusions. In fact, the only good news we found in our assessment was the baby.”

“I’m sorry?”

“For what? Throwing up? No worries. We deal with that all the time.”

“No, before that.”

“You’ve got quite the list of injuries.”

“After that.”

“Oh, the baby. We did a blood panel when you came in, and it confirmed your pregnancy.” The shock must’ve shown on Frankie’s face because the nurse began to clue in that this was news. “You didn’t know.”

Pregnancy. The state she had celebrated for her sisters but had hoped to never experience herself. Panic gripped her. She was in no condition to handle this by herself.

Frankie caught herself before she shook her head and rattled her brain again, but the tears began to fall against her will.

“Jake. I need Jake.”

“Of course. Now that you’re awake, I’ll bring him back. The doctor will be in to check on you soon.”

Pregnant. She’d watched and waited as both Sofia and Natalie had labored through their pregnancies. Three new babies had joined her niece Daisy in the last two years. She was happy for her family and content to be Aunt Frankie, but had zero desire to follow their lead. Hell, just holding her niece and nephews was nerve-wracking experience. She couldn’t imagine being responsible for everything else involved with keeping them happy and alive. Knowing that the babies that turned careers and bodies inside out were very much wanted, made it no less terrifying to witness from the outside. And that’s what she felt when she thought about having a child herself. Total mind-blanking terror.

After her older brother Gabe had died, Frankie had spent a lot of time thinking about the mortality of her family. She’d watched her parents fall apart, their marriage in shambles, after losing their son. She’d thought she’d gotten a grip on her fear, but watching the people she loved do this dangerous thing to grow a fragile baby they’d then have to keep alive had put her anxiety back through the roof.

And now she was the one who would have to turn her life upside down to do the same. The fear was immediate and visceral. Her body trembled, and she didn’t know if it was delayed shock from the fall or panic or both. But it hurt, and she couldn’t think straight through the pain. One thought cut through the noise. She didn’t want this.

And Jake, he didn’t want this either. Oh God. This was such a huge surprise. How would he react? How could she tell him?

“Jake,” she whispered closing her eyes.

JAKE SAT in the emergency room, terror racing through his veins. By the time they’d gotten Frankie’s too-still body down the damn tree, the on-site medic was waiting to assess her, and paramedics were en route. Their remote location and her persistent unconscious state had him ordering a medical evacuation to the best trauma hospital on the peninsula.

He’d relayed her medical information clearly. Current medications: Advil for her rolled ankle. Allergies: None. Any health concerns: potential food poisoning. Pregnant: IUD. He’d called Jo and Dom before they’d left the ground and again when they arrived. They were en route. He’d started the insurance paperwork as best he could from his phone.

The hustle of the crisis had helped him keep it together, but here in the sterile waiting room, with absolutely no control over the outcome of the situation, he was falling apart, brick by brick.

He needed action, a plan, anything to focus on beside the fact that his heart was somewhere behind those closed doors. Was it beating? Was she okay? What was taking so long? He began to pace.

They were just getting started. He had so many plans for their future. He couldn’t lose her now. Hell, he couldn’t even bear to think that thought, lest fate decide to test him.

She had to be okay. He had to hold on to hope.

“Mr. Ryland?”

He snapped his head toward the nurse in scrubs at the impenetrable door.

“She’s asking to see you.”

He followed her back through the warren of pulled curtains and beeping alarms, each ratcheting his fear higher, before they hopped in an elevator. She’d been moved from the ER and given a room. That was a good sign, wasn’t it?

When the nurse finally indicated a door at the end of the hall, Jake couldn’t help but run.

“Frankie? Frankie! I’m here. I’m here, love. What did they say?”

She looked so pale and fragile, the big white bed swamping her. It was easy to forget that her oversized personality was contained in such a small frame. But in this moment, as she lay too still with tears running down her cheeks, it was the fear in her eyes that scared him the most. He wanted to bundle her up in his arms and carry her home so he could protect her. She’d probably deck him for the impulse later, but it would be worth it.

“Jake,” she whispered as he took her hand. “Help me. It hurts.”

“Any way I can, love.”

Before he could say more, the doctor arrived.

“Francesca Valenti?”

“Yes,” Jake and Frankie replied in unison.

“Looks like you had quite a tumble, young lady. What were you doing up a tree in your condition?”

What the hell did that mean? She was in peak condition, running and working a physical job, and she’d never been stronger.

“We were filming for our upcoming renovation special. How bad is it, Doctor? Why is she still in so much pain? Shouldn’t she have something for the pain?”

The doctor ignored him and gave his full attention to Frankie.

“Do you want this man here for our discussion, or would you prefer to keep your medical information private?”

“He stays. I need him,” Frankie whispered, her eyes closed again.

The doctor nodded and looked down at the chart.

“She’s got a bad concussion, a dislocated shoulder, a fractured pelvis, and multiple scrapes and contusions. We’ve stabilized her, but we’ve been conservative with the pain medications until she woke and could give informed consent.”

“I don’t understand,” Jake cut in. “If she was unconscious and in pain, why would you wait for her to wake up before treating her?”

“Because of the baby. Some mothers have definite opinions about the use of narcotics despite studies showing them to be safe and effective…”

The doctor kept talking but Jake took in nothing beyond the baby. He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed and looked at her. She’d forced her eyes open again, and the tears were flowing down her cheeks again. Jake saw her worry and pain as she waited for his reaction.

“I’m right here,” he whispered. “We’ll figure this out together.” He had to be strong for her in this moment even though his gut was on the floor. He had to wipe that fear from her face. Without breaking eye contact with Frankie, Jake raised his voice slightly and spoke to the doctor. “I’m going to need a moment alone with Frankie.” He tightened his grip on her hand. “Please,” he added when the doctor didn’t seem inclined to move.

The moment they were alone, Jake leaned carefully over Frankie’s tiny form in the bed and held her, as she began to cry in earnest. His heart was breaking to see her in so much pain.

“Did you know?” he asked, keeping his voice low in deference to her concussion.

“No!” she cried. “Do you think I would keep something like that from you?”

So, they’d both been caught off guard. And she’d had to deal with hearing the news alone. Better and better.

“No. I know you wouldn’t hide it from me, but you might not have had the opportunity to tell me yet.”

“I had no idea.”

They’d talked about babies and families several times over the course of their engagement. It was hard not to when the Valenti crew had nearly doubled in the time they’d been together. And it seemed like an important discussion to have with the person you planned to marry.

Personally, he’d never felt the impulse to have kids. His own childhood had been far from ideal, despite playing America’s favorite son on television for fifteen years. He liked his life, and the plans he’d made to spend it with Frankie. Finally, their careers were thriving. The next few years would be intense to solidify their gains, but their network was going to make a real difference for people. Adding children to the mix wasn’t part of the plan.

He and Frankie had agreed on that completely, one more point of compatibility on a long list of reasons she was perfect for him. Better to be the cool aunt and uncle and keep the population stable. But all of those discussions had been hypothetical. He had no idea how she’d feel about it now that it was a reality. Would she change her mind?

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“How could this have happened? I have an IUD! Oh my god, a baby?” She blinked at the ceiling, tears running freely from her eyes back to her hairline, washing clear salty tributaries through her stage makeup. Jake wished he had any of the answers she needed. “All of our plans…” She trailed off.

“Are still on the table. Listen, I know the expected line from TV is I’ll support whatever decision you make. But that’s bullshit. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. We will figure this out together, and then make whatever that new plan looks like a reality together. You are not alone, and you don’t have to decide on your own.”

She gripped his hand firmly in hers, her eyes frantic.

“I don’t want this. I can’t do this.”

“You don’t have to.”

She calmed a bit at his reassurance. Finally, he’d said something that helped.

“I’m going to go talk to the doctor and get you more information. Try to rest, okay?”

Exhausted, she lay back on her pillows and blew him a kiss. Jake leaned down to kiss her good hand on the ring he’d put on her finger and vowed to be worthy of it, of her, of the promise they’d made.

“I love you.”

“DOCTOR, A WORD?” Jake asked as he stepped into the hallway. “She’s resting. Can you give me more details about her condition?”

“Of course. The concussion is bad and will likely take a few weeks to resolve. The dislocated shoulder has been stabilized, but she’ll need to see an orthopedic surgeon for an opinion on treatment. She might need surgery to repair it, or she might be able to get away with physical therapy. The pelvic fracture is concerning. She’ll need bedrest for two to three months, but that’s assuming that the growth of the baby doesn’t slow her recovery.”

“And the pregnancy? Neither of us knew, and she had an IUD. Will that complicate things? How far along is she?”

“According to the ultrasound, she’s about eight weeks along. The IUD looks like it’s dislodged, but it’s too dangerous to remove it because of where the embryo has implanted. And it’s possible she’ll need to be on bedrest for the rest of the pregnancy to keep weight off the healing fracture as much as possible.”

The idea of keeping Frankie in bed and inactive for nine months was a terrifying prospect. Hell, he wasn’t looking forward to the two months she’d need just to heal. And to save a pregnancy she didn’t want? At the potential risk of her health and her livelihood? There was no way she’d be able to do it and stay sane.

“And if we opted to terminate the pregnancy?”

The doctor went quiet.

“Doctor?”

“I hadn’t considered that, since you’re engaged and she’s otherwise healthy.”

“I am gathering information so that I can help her make a clear decision. Don’t you think that’s an important detail to discuss?”

“No, you’re right. I assumed and that was wrong. We have medicinal options, or we could do a short procedure while we wait for her shoulder to stabilize enough for surgery if she needs it, and that would remove the stressors on her pelvis and the IUD.”

“Thank you, Doctor. We’ll talk soon.”

BY THE TIME Frankie woke up again, her mom and dad had joined Jake in his anxious pacing in her hospital room. She smiled. Jo and Dom Valenti were no stranger to ER visits as the parents of four children, but surely, they’d thought those days were behind them.

“Hi Mom. Hi Dad.” Her voice was still not as strong as she’d like, but it was loud enough to be heard and not drive a spike of pain through her eye, so she counted it a win.

“What the hell were you doing up in that tree?” Dom blustered as he crossed to her and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“Her job, Dom. We’ve been over this. Hi, baby. How are you feeling?” Her mother deftly handled her father’s bluster. Now that their marriage was on the mend, their banter was back and made Frankie smile.

“Like I fell out of a tree and hit every branch on the way down.” Her attempted laugh came out as a sob.

“Shh. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.” Something about her mother smoothing her hair back unsettled her. Would she have to do this for someone? The panic swelled again, and she found the strength to look at Jake. He shook his head. He hadn’t shared their secret with them. She lowered her eyes in relief.

“Jo, Dom could I ask you a favor? I haven’t eaten all day. Could you track down some food for me? I promised her I wouldn’t leave.”

Jo looked from Jake to Frankie and caught the unspoken messages flying back and forth.

“Sure, honey. We’ll be right back.” She kissed Frankie’s forehead and towed her still muttering husband from the room. Once the door closed behind them, Frankie found the strength to speak again.

“Thanks for not telling them. I don’t know how they’d react, and I don’t have the strength right now to handle that.”

“I wouldn’t do that without you. And we can tell them as little or as much as you’d like. But I thought we could use a little privacy while we figure this next bit out.”

Calmly and quickly, Jake relayed the information from the doctor that she’d missed and some more details he’d dug up on the internet while she’d slept. She wanted to cry again, but with relief that he was her person and that he was using his considerable talents to help her cope.

“So, with all of that, what are you feeling?”

“Completely overwhelmed.”

“That’s understandable. This is a lot to process.” He was so controlled. Was he holding back so she wouldn’t worry?

“And you? How are you feeling?” She pressed. “Be honest.”

His shoulders slumped a little, and he focused on his fidgeting hands when he finally spoke. His nerves relieved her.

“Honestly? I’m scared. I know we talked about this before, but it’s real now. And I’m afraid that will change your mind. And I promised to be your partner in life, so if you want to do this, I will try and figure out how to be the best parent I can be. But it scares the shit out of me.”

Frankie released the breath she hadn’t been aware of holding.

“Me too,” she whispered. “I’m so scared, Jake. Every time I poke the idea of being pregnant in my mind, I get an electric jolt of panic. My feelings have not changed. I don’t want to do this.”

Before she finished speaking, he was gently pulling her into a hug.

“Then we won’t.”

FRANKIE OPENED her eyes and blinked against the bright lights in the recovery room. Her concussion still made her eyes sensitive, and she groaned as she tried to lift her arm to block the light before being painfully reminded that she could not do that. Panic and pain put her head on a swivel, trying to find a doctor to ask how it all went.

“Hello, sunshine.”

She closed her eyes and smiled. Jake was there. She could relax and trust that all the details were being taken care of.

“How did everything go?” she whispered hoarsely. Jake held a glass of ice chips to her mouth, and she gratefully sucked on one to soothe her throat.

“The orthopedic surgeon said that the surgery was textbook. She was able to repair the labrum and tighten your tendons, but you have to rest your shoulder and your pelvis for the next few weeks completely so you’ll be healed enough for physical therapy.”

“But the project…”

“Is in your capable siblings’ hands at the moment. All you have to do is rest and heal. Adrian and Enzo are all over this, and I’ve got everything under control on the back end. And I couldn’t keep Dom away if I tried.”

“Okay.” And it was. Remarkably, she was okay with resting and letting her family pitch in to help. She was okay with Jake running the show. And she was okay with the result of the other surgery she’d had last week to end her pregnancy.

They had decided against the pills because they needed to be sure they got that damn IUD out too. Since she was still on bed rest at the hospital, it had been easy enough to schedule the procedure, and that had gone like clockwork as well. The moment she’d woken, she’d felt an incredible sense of peace and knew they’d made the right decision.

Everything was going to be okay. She had a long road to recovery ahead of her, but she’d climb it, one step at a time.

When her eldest brother Gabe had died, she’d felt like she’d had the rug ripped out from under her, and she’d spent the following years flailing to regain her balance. But this time, when life made her dizzy, she’d had Jake to catch her and steady her until she was ready to stand on her own two feet again. Instead of fumbling through it on her own, they’d come to a decision together. What a difference two years in love could make.

Funny to think that when they met, they’d been at each other’s throats and manipulating each other behind the scenes over a $100,000 bet. And now they were managing a cable network, producing and directing multiple shows, and planning to get married at some point.

She didn’t have to hold onto control so tightly anymore, because she trusted her partner to share the burden, and that was a gift.

Having him firmly in her corner had helped her make the difficult decision to terminate. Having his steady presence by her side as she’d gone into and come out of multiple surgeries had kept her calm and confident. And the promise of his steady support into the future reassured her that all would be well.

She had faith that they would tackle any challenges side by side. They’d keep chasing their happily ever after together, exactly as planned.

This story is a second epilogue for Roughed In, Book 3 in the Exposed Dreams series. Click here for more from the Valenti Family as they tackle love and renovation on their reality TV show: books2read.com/rl/EvaMooreReadingList

About the Author

Eva Moore writes sexy contemporary romances featuring compelling characters finding love in the modern world. Pulling up her Chicagoland roots, she has chased adventures around the globe, with stints in France and Singapore. Eva now lives in California (at the wine end, not the movie end) with her college sweetheart and three gorgeous kiddos. She loves hearing from the outside world while she’s hiding in her she-shed. Please visit her at www.4evamoore.com for signed books or follow her on Facebook or TikTok for updates and shenanigans.

MY BIG FAT SOUTHERLAND WEDDING

EVELYN ADAMS

“DADDY!” Jude Southerland’s daughter whisper-shouted at him, her small face peering around the door. “I need you.”

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He followed her, the concern on her face kicking every one of his protective instincts into gear. “Do you want me to get your momma?”

He’d left his wife in the barn where the wedding ceremony was being held while he’d gone to help his cousin, Gabe, move the guest sign-in table for the bride—or rather, for her sister, Becca. He loved all his cousins, but neither he nor Gabe wanted to get on the wrong side of Becca. The woman was formidable and determined her sister’s wedding go off without a hitch.

“I made a big mistake.” His daughter tugged him into the room, pulling the door shut behind them.

Jude Southerland looked into his daughter’s panic-stricken eyes and realized for about the hundredth time there were precious few things he wouldn’t do to make his little girl smile. She still was his little girl, at least for now, despite the lip gloss the makeup artist for the bridal party had applied.

“Tell me what happened,” he said, grateful her mistakes were still of the eight-year-old variety. That wouldn’t last either.

“I took the rings.” She pushed nervously at the crown of flowers pinned to her dark curls—so much like her mother’s it made his heart ache. “And…well…I lost them.” The last two words came out in a whisper.

Marion Rose was a miniature of his wife Autumn, the woman who’d come into his life and made everything make sense to him. Who’d given him a family, a reason to get up every morning, and a safe place to land every night. He smiled the way he did every time he thought of the woman he loved and the family they’d made. And then his daughter’s words cut through the wedding-induced love haze.

“What do you mean, you took the rings? Why would you do that?” His daughter was like her mother in more ways than physical appearance. She followed the rules and did what was expected of her. Her little brother might be shaping up to be a bit of a hellion, but Marion Rose’s sense of right and wrong was ironclad.

“That best man guy—the one who kept banging on his glass with his spoon and then hooting when cousin Amanda and Michael kissed—kept making jokes about losing the rings and them having to cancel the wedding. I wanted to help—I couldn’t let that happen.” She pulled back her shoulders, righteousness momentarily replacing misery. “When he set the box on the table and just left it there, I took the rings and put them on my finger for safekeeping.” She flexed her hand in front of her, and he didn’t need to hear the next words to know what happened. “They slid off and fell in there.” She motioned to the grate in the floor, her big blue eyes going watery.

Aw, dammit. The last thing he wanted was for her to start to cry.

“Okay. We are going to revisit you taking the rings later with your momma.” He didn’t want to wade into that parental minefield on his own. He’d only met the best man once at the rehearsal dinner, but the guy was exactly the kind of person who’d end up on a Reddit thread for Terrible Things the Best Man Did at Our Wedding. He could almost see his daughter’s point, even if he didn’t approve of her methods. “For now, let’s just get them back where they belong.”

Jude knelt beside the grate, hoping there was a sensible bend inside to catch the rings and not a tunnel to the center of the earth. Turning on his phone’s flashlight, he scanned the louvered metal, making sure they weren’t hanging onto the edge of something before he tried to pry the grate from its opening. It didn’t budge, which meant the screws at either end were locked in tight, and they were going to need more than brute force and good intentions to get it out.

“Can I help you with something?” A slightly older woman with a warm smile and an air of authority stood in the open doorway, looking down on them as if they had designs on father-and-daughter B&E.

“There’s been an incident with the wedding rings. I’m Jude Southerland, father to the flower girl,” he said, scrambling to his feet, offering the woman his hand, and trying not to seem guilty.

“I’m Grace Winters. This is my farm. And you must be the flower girl.” She shifted her attention from Jude to Marion Rose.

“Yes, ma’am. It’s my fault.” His daughter looked wretched, which, despite his previous thoughts, felt appropriate at that moment.

“I’ll let you and your daddy work that part out. Why don’t we concentrate on getting the rings back first?” She pulled a multi-tool out of the pocket of her black slacks and took Jude’s spot by the grate. “If this doesn’t work, we’ll go for bigger tools.” She smiled up at Marion Rose, whose eyes appeared slightly less owlish than before.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” said Jude, crouching on the other side of the grate out of Grace’s way but close enough to help. “My cousin Becca doesn’t need the extra stress.”

Grace glanced up from the screw she was loosening. “Much better to keep this between the three of us. I heard she made the florist cry.”

Jude laughed, and Marion Rose covered her mouth with her hands. “Southerland women are a force to be reckoned with, and Becca is not going to let anything disrupt her sister’s wedding.”

“Let’s not change that.” Grace finished loosening the second screw and gently pried the grate out of the opening. “Do you have your light?”

Jude directed the phone flashlight beam into the hole, and the three of them peered inside, heads close enough he could smell the roses pinned in his daughter’s curls.

“There they are! I can reach them.” Before he could stop her, Marion Rose reached into the duct, shifting to lay on her side when her arm wasn’t quite long enough.

“Do you need help?” Jude watched his daughter’s arm disappear to the shoulder and then watched her shoulder disappear as well, oblivious to the dirt that would have mortified her in her pale-blue dress just the day before.

She twisted her slim body to gain the few extra inches she needed.

“No. I’ve got them!” Excitement filled her voice as she rolled to her knees, pulling her arm from the duct, and clutching the wedding rings in her hand.

Grace took the rings and polished them on the edge of her blouse while Jude helped his daughter smooth her skirt and straighten her crown.

“We’ve got a problem,” said the best man, bursting through the door, clutching a ring box in his hand, his gaze fixed on Grace. “But you have to promise not to tell Becca. She’ll kill me.”

“Looking for these?” Grace held up the rings, and the man took them, tucking them into the empty box and gripping it tight in his fist.

“Oh, thank God! Where did you get them? Never mind. No time,” he said, racing off in the direction of the ceremony.

“Everything okay now?” asked Grace, handing Marion Rose wet wipes she’d pulled from somewhere.

“We’re fine. Thanks so much,” said Jude when his daughter just nodded.

“I’ll leave you to it then and go check on the bride. You look beautiful, sweetheart. Break a leg.”

“It’s a phrase that means good luck,” Jude said when he was alone with his daughter, who still seemed scared despite the averted crisis.

“Daddy, I don’t think I can do it. I don’t think I can walk down the aisle by myself in front of all those people.”

Jude looked at his daughter, only slightly disheveled, in the dress she’d been so proud of, and thought about the conversation—it came close to becoming an argument—he’d had with his wife over her wearing lip gloss. Autumn pointed out that their daughter was growing up and it was their job to help her get ready to venture out on her own. He’d made the compelling argument that Marion Rose growing up and leaving them was exactly what he wanted to avoid. It was an argument he’d lost.

Watching her now, looking so small with her big blue eyes wide with fear and most of the lip gloss gone from nervously biting her lips, he realized he was going to have to be the one to help convince her she didn’t need him. That she could do this and all the other things that came after it without him. And wasn’t that a kick in the teeth? This being a parent thing wasn’t for lightweights.

Steeling his nerves, he reached for her hand and curled his fingers around her much smaller ones. He might have to learn to let her go, but he had a decade to get used to the idea…or at least try to make his peace with it. “You can do this. I know you can. You made a promise to cousin Amanda when she asked you to be part of her wedding.”

“But what if I mess things up? What if I trip or something? I didn’t mean to drop the rings; it just happened. Momma says that’s why they’re called accidents—because you didn’t plan them.”

“Your momma is right.” About that and about everything else. He could spend forever trying to figure out things—especially about people—that his wife just seemed to know. “But the accident—assuming it happens—isn’t the most important part. What you do after is what matters most. So, if you trip and fall, which I doubt you’ll do, but if you do, what are you going to do after? Cry? Run away? Pitch a fit?” Marion Rose hadn’t had temper tantrums even as a toddler, and the idea elicited a small, watery smile.

“Get up and keep going,” she said, as if the whole thing were unimaginable.

“Exactly. And you know everyone out there loves you and wants the best for you. We’re all here to help cousin Amanda and Michael celebrate getting married and creating their own family together. You’re a part of that.” As he spoke, Jude could see some of her innate confidence fill her small frame. “Are you ready?”

“I think so. Thanks, Daddy.”

“No problem, cupcake. I will always be here if you need me.” He would, but he still hated that his job was to teach her not to need him.

She threw herself into his arms, and he squeezed her tight, careful not to crush the flowers in her crown and grateful she was, for the moment at least, still his little girl.

“There you are!” Becca Southerland blew into the room like a force of nature. She may have been decked out in her maid of honor dress, but her attitude was all business.

Jude sent up a small silent prayer of gratitude that she hadn’t walked in ten minutes earlier when his daughter was halfway inside the grate, reaching for the rings.

“Everyone’s lining up. We need you. Are you ready?”

Marion Rose glanced from Becca to him before smoothing her hastily cleaned hands over her skirt and nodding. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Call me Becca. Ma’am makes me feel old.” She smiled at Marion Rose, and the tension in the room dropped several notches.

“Okay…Becca.”

“Here.” His cousin pulled a tube of lip gloss from the tiny purse dangling from her wrist and bent to slick some over his daughter’s lips before leaning back to admire her work. “Perfect. Does your dress have pockets?”

“It does!” Marion Rose stuck her hands in her pockets and pushed out her hip, striking one of the many poses she’d been practicing since she got the dress.

“Excellent. This can be yours. Tuck it into your pocket in case you need it.” Becca handed the lip gloss to his daughter.

Jude opened his mouth to protest and then thought better of it. Drill Sergeant Becca was not to be trifled with, especially this close to the wedding.

“Thanks!” His little girl beamed, excitement replacing any lingering wariness.

“Of course. Us girls need to stick together. Now let’s go make sure that goofball best man is in place and then we can get this show started.” She held out her hand, and Marion Rose took it, casting a last glance over her shoulder at him before following Becca out of the room.

Jude’s heart squeezed a little tighter as he watched her go.

“EVERYTHING OKAY?” Autumn made room for her husband on the wooden bench.

Small bouquets of peonies and roses hung from the end of the benches nearest the aisle. Two of the groomsmen had covered the old wooden floorboards with a long white runner in anticipation of the bride’s arrival before joining the groom and best man under the flower arch at the front of the barn. It was the perfect blend of rustic and refined. Exactly like the couple getting married.

“With Marion Rose or me?” Jude put his arm around her, tugging her close as the guitarist started to play.

“Both.” She nestled against him, grateful for time with just the two of them, even if it was in the middle of another great big Southerland wedding.

“There was an incident with the rings, but we got it sorted. She was just a little nervous. Becca is with her. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

“And you?” She reached up to push an errant strand of hair off his forehead. The sandy blond didn’t show gray, but this close, she could see the start of it at his temples. It only added to his appeal and made her want him more. Watching him parent their two children had a similar effect on her libido. There wasn’t much sexier than a good dad who put his family first.

“I just realized that someday I’m probably going to have to walk her down the aisle. I don’t love that idea.” He shook his head, a rueful smile curving his mouth.

“Cheer up. It won’t happen for another fifteen years or so. And then only if she’s lucky enough to find someone who loves her the way I love you and you love me. You’ve set the bar pretty damn high.” She tipped her head up to kiss him, sighing when his lips met hers.

They’d been married eight years—she’d been pregnant with Marion Rose when she walked down the aisle—and she doubted she’d ever get enough of him. With two kids at home and the demands of his small-town doctor’s practice, it was hard to make time for just them. Even so, she didn’t want to wish any of it away. She loved being their kids’ mother, but she loved being Jude’s wife, too. He’d given her a family, both his own with all the siblings and cousins, and the one they made together. It came with a sense of belonging her haphazard childhood hadn’t been able to provide. But when the time came and their children were out on their own, she’d be ready to just be her husband’s lover again. That part hadn’t dimmed, regardless of how busy the rest of their lives got.

“I don’t think I realized that helping them grow up meant helping them learn how to leave. It’s not just figuring out how to stop holding them back. To do the job right, we have to help them to go.” He shuddered, and she rested a hand on his thigh.

“We’ll figure it out together,” she said as the music picked up, and the bridesmaids started down the aisle.

He gripped her hand as Marion Rose, looking so poised, made her way to the front of the barn, tossing rose petals in her wake.

“That kid. She’s amazing. Like her mother.” He murmured the words against her ear as they stood for the bride.

Amanda was lovely in a simple tulip-shaped silk sheaf dress with a delicate necklace and earrings made of pearl flowers with gold vines and leaves. Her groom couldn’t tear his gaze away from her, and when they clasped hands, the love they shared was palpable. They’d written their own vows, and by the time they promised to love each other and choose each other every day for the rest of their lives, there were sniffles all around. Even the best man, who’d been mugging it up for the first part of the ceremony, seemed moved by the couple’s words.

Moments later, the officiant pronounced them husband and wife, the groom kissed his bride, and they started back down the aisle and into the next stage of their life together. Marion Rose followed the bridesmaids and groomsmen, beaming at her parents as she passed.

“Would you do it again? Knowing everything you know now, would you marry me again?” Jude took her hand in his, searching her face for the answer he had to already know.

For a moment, she simply stared at him. She couldn’t imagine life without him. She didn’t want to imagine it.

“In a heartbeat. I chose you eight years ago, and I choose you today and every day that comes after this one.” She blinked against the tears filling her eyes.

“I love you in sickness and health, for better and for worse, while the kids are at home and when they’re gone.” He squeezed her hands, and she smiled at the man who owned her heart. “I am yours and you are mine.”

He leaned over to kiss her, tender and sweet, full of everything they’d shared together and the promise of everything still to come.

“I love you,” she said when she managed to catch her breath again.

“I love you too. Let’s go collect our flower girl and her brother. And then, maybe later, after everyone’s asleep, we can try that kiss again. Naked.”

About the Author

I fell in love hard with the Southerlands. They are the family of my heart. If you’d like to read Jude and Autumn’s love story, Feels Like Home, or Grace’s sexy got her groove back story, you can get your free copies by following the link below. Thanks so much for reading and for supporting reproductive rights! Reproductive care is health care. https://www.authorevelynadams.com/dissent-anthology

PROPERTY OF A HERO

KINGS OF ANARCHY MC

GLENNA MAYNARD

CHAPTER ONE

OPHELIA

THE UNMISTAKABLE ROAR of motorcycles thunders outside my bedroom window, drowning out the haunting voice of Lana Del Rey as I listen to her on repeat. There’s nothing sexier or more dangerous than the growl of a motorcycle vibrating through your bones. Sitting up from where I lay on my bed, I peer out through the broken slats of my blinds as their engines cut on the street in front of my home. I switch the music off as I hear my father muttering a curse or two under his breath as he stomps down the hallway. “Fuck. Shit.”

Bang. Thump. Boom. “Open up, Dave,” a gravelly voice grits, sending a shiver down my spine.

I count four motorcycles. Four large men covered in menacing dark ink, wearing jeans and black leather vests. I suck in a breath at the club’s name on the back of one. Kings of Anarchy MC. Everyone knows you don’t fuck with the Kings.

I gulp as the pounding at the front door rattles the entirety of our doublewide trailer. Crack. The splintering sound of wood breaking splits through the air. The hair on my arms rises. What the hell did my father get tangled up in this time? I always suspected the Mob would come for him one day due to his gambling habit, but not a group of scary ass bikers. The gaze of one of the club members cuts to my window. His dark eyes narrowing in on me. I drop back from the window and hit the floor. Crouching at the foot of my bed, I’m debating another glance outside when my bedroom door flies open, bouncing off my dresser as it breaks away from the wall. The hinges and all coming right for me. I throw my hands up in a protective manner in a poor attempt to shield myself from the impact. Braced for the pain, I squint my eyes and grind my teeth while wondering if this is the moment that I’ll die for the sins of my father.

I wait a beat for the door to hit me, but it’s slung sideways and propped against the dresser. My gaze meets that of one of the bikers. Mossy green eyes so deep and dark I could disappear in them like I did often as a girl in the forest behind my house. “Don’t move,” that same gritty voice from moments ago instructs me.

I don’t know why I nod. Only that I do.

“Back door,” he barks at someone as they move past him.

I study the man before me, wondering what he wants with my father and what he plans to do whether he locates him or not. I’m not surprised that he ran away. My mother always said he was a spineless coward, but he at least stuck around to raise me. Even if he did a shitty job. He stayed when she didn’t. Until now. It appears daddy dearest has left me to the wolves or rather the KOA MC.

I continue observing the biker. The patch over the right pocket on his vest says he’s the Vice President. I’ve heard stories about the Kings. None of them good. Some call them outlaws. Men who live outside of the law. They make their own rules. A code they abide by at their will. Like cowboys, only their horses are made of steel.

“Where’d he go?”

“Who?”

“Who?” He rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, who?”

“You’re not a bird. Don’t play stupid, little dove.”

“Wouldn’t that make me an owl? Ya know. Hoo. Hoo,” I mock the sound at him.

His lips twitch, giving way to a small smirk.

“Where’s he keep his stash?”

“Huh?”

“Money. He got a safe?”

“Why would I tell you?”

“Because he owes me fifty grand.”

My heart drops to my feet at the same time my eyes widen. “Fifty thousand dollars? As in real cash money?” Bile shoots up my throat in a fiery trail. Oh my God. This can’t be happening. The room begins to spin as though I’m a kid again on a merry-go-round. I tilt my head to focus on the scar that slashes through his right brow. My stomach rolls and boils with the urge to vomit, and I know without a doubt I’m going to pass out. That little voice who lives in my subconscious screams at me to run. Only my body has decided against fight or flight all together.

Dots float before my vision. The sensation of my head filling with water takes hold. I blink and stare at his angry scar until it no longer exists.

“Fuck,” I hear the word clipped from his cruel and punishing lips as the world fades to black, and I’m free falling into an unknown abyss of despair.

ROUGH FINGERS STROKE my cheek as I shake my head side to side attempting to escape the unfamiliar touch.

“I think she’s coming to,” a gruff voice rumbles, causing my pulse to spike.

Fluttering my lashes, I come to with a violent jerk.

“Hey. Easy there. You passed out.” My gaze zones in on the tip of his tongue as it darts out to wet his lips.

The corners of his lips curve upward as I continue to stare at this gorgeous specimen of a man. Confusion clouds my head. I blink a few times and force myself out of the sexy biker fog I’m induced under.

Realization and reality set in. I don’t know this man with dark ink staining his neck and light facial scruff carpeting his jaws.

“Stay away from me.” I go to scramble back realizing my head is in the lap of the biker from earlier or moments ago. I’m not certain how much time has lapsed since he told me the bad news.

The latest fuck up my father is embroiled in.

“Jesus. I’m not going to hurt you.” The rough pad of his thumb swipes away the tear forming in the corner of my eye.

“You expect me to believe that?” I shake my head as he pushes up on the back of my head, allowing me to sit up. Now seated next to him on the couch in my living room I know I should make a run for it. My legs are wobbly. “You and your gang busted into my house, and you kicked my bedroom door in like some sort of psycho.”

“First of all, we’re a club. Second, I thought your old man was hiding in that room. Third, your father fucked me.”

I scrunch my nose. “I don’t think you’re really his type.”

“Fuckin’ smartass,” he gripes as someone chuckles.

“I like her.” I glance over at another biker. He’s huge. Big muscles rippling under his vest as I notice he’s not wearing a shirt underneath.

“Whatever situation or entanglement my father has with you has nothing to do with me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. He left you here to pay his dues. I want my money or my product.”

“I don’t know what that even means. Your product?”

“You can do yourself a favor and tell me where he’s gone or pay me what’s due.”

“I don’t know where he is and even if I did, why would I tell you? You’ll probably kill him.” My father is likely hiding in the woods. He knows them like the back of his hand as I do.

“Just here to collect, but since you don’t want to cooperate and your father isn’t here, you’ll be coming with me to see Big Daddy. Maybe he can get some answers out of you.”

He shoves up, planting his motorcycle boots firmly on the dingy carpet that’s soiled with liquor stains and cigarette burns, then grips me right beneath my right shoulder, forcing me up.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Cute you think you have a choice. Let’s go.” He drags me kicking and screaming out the busted front door. I claw and scratch at his arms or anywhere I make purchase with my fingernails but none of my attempts to thwart his actions are of any consequence. The jerk biker ignores my pleas all together.

None of my neighbors bat an eye as I’m kidnapped but why would they? They too know like everyone else in this town no one fucks with the Kings.

He lets go of me to swing a leg over his motorcycle. This is my chance to escape. I turn to run only to smash into the hard chest of the dude with big muscles.

He stares down at me as he towers over me. “Get on the bike, sweetheart.”

“Ooh, whatever.” I stomp my foot in protest, scraping the heel on the hot asphalt but do as I’m told. They’ll have to let me go at some point. I’ll go see this Big Daddy character and explain that I don’t know shit about fuck when it comes to my father and his dealings with them. He’ll see that this is all a misunderstanding. This has nothing to do with me.

I go to climb on his sleek black motorcycle as he rakes his gaze over my body. I’m only wearing a black tank top paired with denim shorts and no shoes. “You got boots?”

“Nope.”

“Yo, Kidd. Grab her shoes.”

Kidd? I can only imagine what this jerk calls himself.

“You got a name, little dove?”

“Ophelia.”

The crinkles around his gorgeous green orbs soften. “Pretty name.”

“Let me guess. You go by the name Pain.”

“Pain,” he parrots on a snort.

“Yeah, you know…cause you’re a real pain in the ass.” I smirk.

“I really like her,” the big guy behind me states again, and I don’t know if it’s a good or bad thing.

Mr. Vice President of the club cuts his murderous gaze to him. “Don’t even think about it.”

Yikes. Okay not a good thing. Noted.

“Shoes.” Another biker I’m guessing is Kidd drops my white leather Adidas with the black stripes at my feet. There’s a patch on the back of his vest that says Prospect. I don’t know what that means. Though his vest is different from the others. His doesn’t have the club’s nefarious insignia. A skull with a menacing grin adorned with a crown.

“Today, Ophelia.” He starts the motorcycle signaling to get my ass in gear. No more stalling.

“Right.” I slip my shoes on and climb on to find that I don’t even have a seat. My ass drops to the rear fender, and I already know this is going to suck.

“Hold on tight and watch your legs on the pipes.” He goes over a few more instructions about not leaning and making sure I don’t shift my weight.

I circle my arms around his waist, pushing my crotch up against his ass, my thighs pressed to his, and I still don’t know his name. His leather vest smells of smoke, sweat, and dirt. Like the forest when it rains after a campfire. I breathe in, getting a whiff of his scent. The smell sparks something inside me I can’t explain. The taste of freedom. An escape from this hell hole. Excitement of the unknown dangers awaiting me.

Every cell in my body vibrates as we shoot onto the road. The purr of the engine rattles through my bones as we ride. Knees in the breeze, my hair whipping around and stinging my face.

CHAPTER TWO

OPHELIA

OUR RIDE ENDS AT A MASSIVE, gated estate that I wasn’t expecting. In my mind the way here I conjured many scenarios. A scary biker bar. A junkyard. Being taken to a remote location and my brains splattered in the dirt or the like. But nowhere in my thought process did I imagine a mansion. Charcoal gray with huge columns. I count three stories, not to mention the eight door garage off to the far side of the driveway. Where the hell am I? Not in my neighborhood, that’s for sure.

I stare in awe at the fountain in the center of the circle driveway. These dudes. The Kings have a lot of money. I don’t know if I should be impressed or terrified.

My captor or whatever he considers himself parks and the others follow lining up in a perfect row.

The second the kickstand is down I scramble off the back. My teeth still chatter from the vibration of the ride and my legs shake as though they may give out at any moment. I look like a newborn calf as I stumble away from the motorcycle. I don’t make it far before my biker is on me, hooking a thick tattooed arm around my waist. His warm breath blows on the shell of my ear. To a stranger’s eye we’d appear to be in an intimate embrace. My lover holding me tight and whispering sweet nothings.

Only I still don’t know this asshole’s name and we are far from lovers.

“Be cool. I’ll take you to Big Daddy and see what he wants to do with you.” His teeth practically skim the lobe of my ear as he speaks. In an ultimate act of complete betrayal, my insides warm as tingles shoot through me at the sensation and the roughness of his voice. A tone that says I’m a bad ass who drinks and smokes too much and I will absolutely fuck you hard.

The front door opens and a blonde headed chick with tattoos and facial piercings runs out with the biggest smile stretched across her heart-shaped face. “Hey, Hero,” she coos. Then her eyes meet mine and that smile falters.

Hero, huh. Not what I would call him but whatever.

“The old man around, Sissy?”

Does everyone here go by some biker nickname? I’m assuming old man is code for Big Daddy.

She recovers quickly from whatever irritation she’s experiencing at my presence. “Of course. He’s been waiting for you.”

Hero’s hand moves to the small of my back. “Inside, little dove.” He gives me a nudge forward. “Kidd. See to the bikes.” Kidd must be some type of lackey. Guess that’s what the prospect patch represents.

The inside of the house is another surprise. Straightaway I know this isn’t your average home. There’s a motorcycle on display in the entryway. I keep striding froward, noting the art on the walls. Black and white portraits of bikes, men, and nude women. I don’t get close enough to investigate as Hero has wrapped a hand around my wrist. His hold isn’t hard like he’s afraid I’ll try to escape. The way his fingers bite into my skin screams possession. The way he moves with me is as though he’s protecting me. I don’t understand the act, yet I welcome it all the same.

The entryway opens into a larger room with a staircase that overlooks the front of the house. At the top there’s no mistaking the older man stroking his dark beard streaked with silver. Wearing a black vest like the others, he dons the president patch. He must be Big Daddy and the ruler of this bizarre biker kingdom.

I feel the heat of his stare assessing me as I glance up at him. He doesn’t speak or give any indication how he feels about my intruding albeit against my will.

He waits.

For me.

For Hero.

“Upstairs.” Hero propels me forward.

Everything in my nature tells me I should run. Scream that I’m a prisoner. Tell them I’ve been kidnapped. Would that Sissy chick help me? I look behind me and notice that the rest of our party has dispersed to locations unknown.

“My office,” the older man growls, giving a flash of his pearly whites before they disappear again behind the curtain of his facial hair. His expression is void of any emotion. Man has a great poker face. No wonder my father is in deep. Probably got suckered into a game that he had no business playing in. Wouldn’t be the first time. However, the stakes have never been this high.

Not only is my ass on the line, but these guys also expect fifty grand. We move up another set of stairs to a loft area that looks over what appears to be a bar inside the house. The layout is weird and confusing. Big Daddy sits behind his desk. Hardlines are etched in his forehead and around his eyes. His eyes are dark, maybe brown. His skin is weathered like tough leather. He’s a hard man who’s spent a lot of time in the sun. There’s something attractive but dangerous about him. Everything about him and Hero says don’t fuck with me. But there’s something about these men that makes me want to fuck around and find out what they are about.

I’ve never been more terrified and intrigued.

“She doesn’t look like Dave. Tell me you’ve got my money or the trailer with my product. Do not tell me you brought me some chick with small tits in his place.”

Hero grips my wrist tighter. “Dave is in the wind. This is his daughter. Figure we can use her to flush the rat bastard out or to earn out his debt.”

Big Daddy narrows his eyes all dark and scary. Bang. His fist pounds down on the desk and I jump. Hero’s hand falls away.

“You got something worth fifty k?” His attention is solely on me.

My brain blanks and one word comes to the forefront of my mind. Virginity. All I have is my virginity. People do that. Auction themselves off to the highest bidder. I’ve read articles claiming success. Girls using the money to pay for college or whatever. Heat creeps up the back of my neck and spreads like wildfire over my cheeks.

Thump thump. Thump. Thump thump. Thump. My heartbeat pounds like a tempo in my ears. “Me,” I whisper. “I could sell my virginity to the highest bidder.” Tears burn in the backs of my eyelids at the repulsive suggestion but it’s all I’ve got. I’m all I’ve got. My father hung me out to dry. I can do this one thing in exchange for his life. One night of my life for him to live out the rest of his. Then I’m done.

Done with him and this town.

Big Daddy scratches his chin. “You think your snatch is worth fifty?”

I lift a shoulder.

“Can you dance?”

“Like on a pole?”

“Nah, sweetheart. Tap dance in a princess costume. Yeah, on a fuckin’ pole.”

“It can’t be that hard.”

A gritty chuckle rips from deep within his gut and reverberates through the room. His gaze cuts from me to Hero, assuming he’s still behind me and the expression he wears is murderous. “Since you fucked this deal up by hiring her ol’ man for the job, I’ll leave it to you. Audition her for Legends. If she can’t dance, guess you got yourself an auction to organize or a debt to pay.”

“Prez,” Hero growls.

“Your dude Dave fucked us. You brought her into the situation. It’s your mess to clean up. I don’t care how you do it. I want that money or that trailer. Both would be preferable. Now take your charity case and get the fuck out of my office.”

Hero doesn’t argue. My knees knock together as though they are begging to be let out of the gates of Hell.

“Don’t faint on me again,” Hero’s voice wraps around me in a velvety caress that washes a calm sensation over me.

Why do I trust him? He’s the one who forced me into this chaos.

My virginity. Do I think my snatch is worth fifty thousand dollars? Dancing on a pole can’t be hard. I’ve lost my mind. I must be in shock. I don’t even like trying on clothes in dressing rooms and I’m going to audition to be a stripper.

“Fuck me. You better not be a pain in my ass,” Hero grumbles and jerks on my wrist, tugging me back down the stairs.

“Where are we going?”

He stops at the next landing and faces me. “There is no we. So, get that shit out of your head.”

“What? It was a basic question. Like slow your roll, psycho. In the history of never would I ever hedge a bet on there being a we where you and I are concerned. Thank you very much. You’re the last horse I’d hitch my cart to. So, how do we set this up?”

“I’m taking you to Legends. No offense, little dove. As cute as you are. No one worthy will pay fifty grand for the privilege of fucking you.”

“Like you care. What does it matter as long as you get your cut, right?”

“You think the kind of men who would offer up that kind of money would wine and dine you? You live in some kind of dream world. Men like that will do a lot worse than fuck you. Carve you up and harvest your organs. Shit like that. So, if you’re going to help me get that money or find that trailer, your ass will put on a G-string and start earning soon as you can. Your ol’ man is of any count. He’ll pay up once word hits you’re whoring to cover his ass.”

“You think he gives a damn about me? The man who left me to face down a biker gang on my own?”

“Fair point. Doesn’t change the fact that you’re my problem now. You’ve got a fine ass. I’ll give you that, but it isn’t an ass I’m going to wager fifty k on.”

CHAPTER THREE

HERO

OPHELIA STARES AT ME, her hazel eyes glittering with unshed tears. She’s got gorgeous eyes. Brown and green flecked with hints of gold, framed with thick lashes. However, I can’t allow myself to be taken in by her because she’s got a nice ass and stunning eyes. I tug on a tendril of her dark brown hair that has sun kissed streaks of blonde that are only visible when the light hits a certain way. She continues to gaze at me waiting for something. Like maybe I’ll live up to my name and be her hero. I’m anything but. “How old are you?”

Ophelia plants a hand on her hip. “Shouldn’t you have, I don’t know, figured that out before taking me hostage.” She might look all sweet with her big doe eyes, but she’s got a mouth on her, that’s for damn sure.

“You’re not my hostage.”

“So, I’m free to leave anytime I please?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Which is it then? Either I can walk out of here right now of my own free will or this is a hostage situation.”

“Knew you were going to be a pain in my ass.”

“Sounds like a personal problem that could be easily remedied if you’d, you know, let me go.”

“You got fifty-thousand dollars hidden in that virgin pussy of yours?”

“No,” she snaps as a rosy color tints the apples of her cheeks.

“Didn’t think so. Let’s go.” I lead her back outside to where my Softail Harley waits.

“You could at least take a car or something with a seat since I need to shake my ass. Kinda hard to do when it’s sore from riding your fender.”

“You don’t cut the attitude your ass is fixin’ to be tanned red when I bend you over my bike and spank you for mouthing off every five seconds.”

“Ha. Funny.”

“Do I look like I’m joking,” I growl, getting in her face. This shit isn’t funny. “Does Big Daddy strike you as a man who will wait patiently for you to cough up money? Don’t answer. He may live in a nice house but don’t get it twisted. Our club has a reputation for a reason. We don’t bake cookies and knit blankets.”

“I know that.” She shrinks back from me, and I feel like an asshole. Ophelia needs to comprehend how real this is. We’ve killed over lesser offenses. If she were her father, she’d already be in the basement under the barn in a barrel of acid. Fifty grand is nothing to Big Daddy, but he won’t tolerate the disrespect and until Dave pays it’s a target on our backs. A sign to our enemies that we’re going soft. The second they think there’s a crack in our defenses they won’t hesitate to make a move.

I sling a leg over my bike and start her up. The engine purrs to life, the sound never gets old. “Let’s go.”

Without complaint, thank fuck, Ophelia climbs on, pressing her body to mine, molding against me like a perfect fucking fit. I hate it and love it. The way her hands press against the walls of my stomach under my shirt. Her touch setting my skin on fucking fire with desire. The thoughts running through my mind. The ones wondering if she’s really a virgin and what it’d be like to claim that sweet pussy for my own.

I shake my head.

I can’t be getting caught up in pussy when our associates are awaiting news of their shipment and the payday that comes with it.

I ride out to Legends. A strip joint owned by our MC. Most of our money comes from running drugs and guns for the cartel. The bars and other shit are all a front for laundering the money. We aren’t good men. We don’t go around rescuing puppies and kittens. We’ve built an empire on the backs of weaker, lesser men. We run this town and everything in it.

Dave must have a fucking death wish pulling the shit he did. It won’t matter if Ophelia turns some money for the Kings. Big Daddy will still see him with a bullet between the eyes. My little dove might as well kiss her daddy and her old life goodbye.

She’s in our world now.

She’s our property.

She’s my property.

And though she may hate it, in time this sassy mouthed little bitch will appreciate the protection our name affords. No one fucks with the KOA, and they damn sure don’t fuck with our property and live to tell about it. Which is why it’s imperative I find her father and deal with the bastard accordingly as soon as possible.

I escort Ophelia into the club through the back entrance using my key. We’re closed on Sunday mornings, so we have the place to ourselves.

“Where is everyone?” she peers over my shoulder, taking in the empty dressing room.

“Afraid it’s just you and me, little dove. Whatever notions you’ve been running through your head the ride here about getting someone to help you, you might as well stop dreaming.”

“Can I use the restroom or is that against the rules too?”

“Knock yourself out. But I’ll warn you. Don’t go trying some dumb shit that will piss me off and trust me. You won’t like me when I’m pissed.”

“As if I like you now. Pfft. Please.” She rolls her eyes and I hold the bathroom door open for her.

“Five minutes. A second longer and I’m coming inside.”

“You wish.”

“Smart ass.”

She saunters past me, and I release the door. It’s a basic bathroom. One toilet, one sink, and a mirror. No window. No exit point or weapons to be found. I pull out my cell and dial Tyrant, our SA. Sergeant at Arms. “Any movement yet?”

“Got eyes on the woods behind the house. Your new pet probably knows exactly where he’s hiding. Bastard will surface sooner or later. Got a call in to Chavez to borrow his hounds. He won’t outrun them fuckers.”

“Perfect. Talk later, yeah.”

“Later.”

I end the call as Ophelia exits the bathroom. “You ready to strip for me or are you going to give your daddy up?”

“Why would I tell you anything? You’ll just use whatever I say to hurt him.”

“The longer this drags out the worse it’ll be. If he turns over the goods now Big Daddy might be generous enough to spare his life.”

“Right. Because what was it you said? You guys have a reputation. I think I’ll take my chances getting naked.”

“Suit yourself.”

I take her further into the club to the front room where the stage is.

“Who am I auditioning for anyway?”

I lick my bottom lip. “Me. Stage is all yours.” I help myself to a beer from the cooler behind the bar.

“Little early, don’t ya think?”

“Nah. It’s five o’clock somewhere.” I take a seat at one of the smaller single stages. One pole on a platform with four chairs around it. “Right here will do.” Using the corner of the stage I pop the cap off my longneck bottle of Bud.

She sneers at me then kicks off her shoes, using a chair as a step onto the platform. “I need music.”

“Your wish. My command.” With a few strokes of my fingers across the screen of my cell I bring up something on YouTube and hit play on ‘Love Is a Bitch by Two Feet.’ “Show me what you got.”

Ophelia’s gaze settles on me as she wraps a hand around the pole to execute a slow spin. I lean back in the chair, cradling the bottle of Bud in my grip. She has no damn rhythm and yet I can’t tear my eyes from her as she continues to shimmy and shake up and down the pole. All innocence with the eyes of an angel. She’s too pure and sweet for the likes of Legends. An angel thrust into the hell I call home.

Her fingers make work of the buttons on her denim cut offs. As inexperienced as she is, fuck me, she’s making me hard. I never get a fucking erection due to a woman taking her clothes off. Before I climbed the ranks to VP, I’d work security here on the weekends. Once you’ve seen a couple strippers naked you feel as though you’ve seen them all. Ophelia though…she’s different.

Something about her sweet appearance and smartass mouth appeals to me. Dares me to reach out and touch her. To claim her as my own.

The slow tease performance continues. Still fully clothed, she has my complete attention. Another song starts. ‘Freakout by Gianni Canetti.’ She comes down off the stage and grabs my beer, taking a hearty swig of liquid courage. Her nose scrunches and her mouth screws into a disgusted pout, exposing the fact she’s not an avid drinker.

I smirk and watch, waiting for her next move. Wondering how far she’ll go. With another hard pull from the bottle, she finishes the drink and places the empty on a nearby table.

My little dove circles me. Eyes on me as though I’m her prey. In this moment I suppose I am at her mercy. I’m hard, pissed off, and horny. Not a great combination.

Dangerous.

Deadly.

Fuckin’ explosive.

Bending over in front of me, she jiggles her fine ass. An ass I’m eager to spank, bite, and fuck. It takes all my self-control not to give into the temptation. Don’t even know her and she’s already in my veins and boiling my blood. Got me twisted up in knots. Torn between being a good man who’ll let her walk away and the asshole I’ve always been and never letting her go.

Either way I’m fucked. Her body rolls as she dances around me. She doesn’t have big tits from what I can tell but I know they’d be just right. Straddling my lap, she pumps her hips, thrusting that sweet cunt over my dick, practically dry humping me into getting off.

Ophelia toys with me. Grinding on me as she whips her tank top off to expose a virginal white lace bra complete with a pink bow resting between her breasts. Looking like a present I’m about to rip open, she’s pure temptation. She leans in close, her beer-stained breath fanning over my lips, daring me to taste hers. I’ve gotta resist the primal urge to throw her on the floor and fuck her right here.

I’ve never been more turned on in my life. Not sure if it’s simply her or the idea of her being a virgin that has me about to lose my sanity. To throw away everything for a piece of ass. That’s what I’ll be doing if I go against Prez and claim her for my own.

CHAPTER FOUR

OPHELIA

I HAVE no idea what I’m doing. Trusting my baser instincts and letting my body move in ways I hope will get men’s blood pumping. Or rather one man in particular at the moment. Hero. The scary biker who makes me crave things I shouldn’t. I never drink but it was either calm my nerves or throw up. The taste is bitter but tolerable. Hero seems to be enjoying himself. He’s leaned back looking like a sexy tattooed God clad in jeans and his leather vest. If I didn’t know he was a kidnapping dickhead, I’d want to kiss him right now.

I lean in close like I may do just that very thing. I know he’s turned on. His raging hard on pressing between my thighs and the hungry look in his eyes gives him away. Good to know he’s not made entirely of stone.

That a hard ass like him feels more than hate. Not that it matters to me. I’m merely doing whatever it takes to survive this messed up day. I don’t have much experience navigating sexual encounters. I’ve barely made it past second base. I gave my senior year prom date a hand job and that’s as far as it went. He got off after about two pumps of my fist.

A man like Hero though. I know he’s experienced and probably has sex all the time with anyone he chooses. I should be turned off by the fact he likely fucks around with anything that walks. However, I can’t deny this curiosity burning inside me. The one that wonders if he’s good in bed. If he’d rock my world. Take me for the ride of my life and I don’t mean on his motorcycle.

I grind on him, rolling my hips, fluttering my lashes while decreasing the distance between our mouths. The bristles of his facial hair scrapes along my jaw as he closes the gap. His arm snakes around my back and coils me against his chest, holding me right where he wants me as he strikes, claiming my lips. Wildfire shoots through my body. The heat of his kiss nearly burning me alive as his mouth moves over mine. Rough and savage, he takes what he wants without care. And what he wants in this moment is me.

I’m not strong enough to resist him. I yearn for this man to dominate me in every way. To give into his basic nature like the villain I know him to be and defile me. His tongue prods along the seam of my lips, demanding entrance. Unable to deny him, I part them and invite Hero in. He kisses me hard and deep. It’s a passionate, wet kiss with lots of tongue. His hands roam the contours of my body, touching me anywhere and everywhere he desires to do so. The man knows all the right spots to stroke to get a rise out of me. We go at each other like wild animals in a game of give and take. We’re a storm ready to decimate anything in our path. He’s a man who thrives on control and I eagerly submit.

His lips glide along my jaw and down the column of my throat nipping and sucking, carving a path to the valley of my breasts as he yanks a lacy cup down, freeing a nipple for his mouth to claim.

“Ah,” I gasp on a long moan.

Hero doesn’t disappoint and he damn sure doesn’t stop. Thrusting a hand down the front of my shorts and underwear, he finds my clit with a swipe of his thumb, nearly detonating the ticking time bomb inside me that’s ready to pop off at any moment now. Warmth coats my lower belly and wetness pools between my legs.

I’m ready to beg for him to have mercy and get me off. He stokes the flame, building the fire burning inside of me higher and higher with every caress of his deft fingers as they fondle me in places I’ve only ever dared to touch myself. No one else has ever gotten me off. And I’ve never brought myself pleasure this quickly.

Everything about him is erotic. Hero oozes sex appeal.

I cry out, hearing the voices of angels singing in a cappella, only to realize it’s me, cooing in his ear as I get off, coming harder than I ever have.

“That’s it, little dove. Ride my fingers.” He pistons them in and out of my pussy, fucking me with his thick, rough digits. I can’t get enough.

“More,” I whimper into his mouth, kissing him. Our tongues wage a war for control that he ultimately wins. A shudder ripples through me and I cry out in agony at the loss of his touch. I watch pissed off and fascinated as he licks his fingers clean of my juices.

“Stand up,” he growls.

I do as I’m told like the good girl I aim to be for him currently. In a flash he jerks my bottoms to my ankles and drops his ass off the chair and to the floor. With the back of his head resting on the chair he orders me to sit on his face. “Don’t get shy on me now, babe. You wanted more. This is me giving you more.”

‘Closer by Kings of Leon’ plays through the speaker of his phone. I can’t imagine getting any closer than this as I straddle his face. Hero hooks his arms around my thighs and holds me where he wants me so he can devour and fuck me with his tongue.

I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’m in a strip club being ate out by a filthy biker who will kill my father if given the opportunity. His teeth graze my sensitive skin. Every nerve in my body hums like a live wire as I ride Hero’s face. He licks me from clit to ass, taking me to the edge and dangling me there. I’m on the verge of another orgasm when I hear the buckle of his belt followed by his zipper being undone. Playfully, he taps my ass and without him telling me to I move down the front of him, my knees hitting the floor on either side of him as he drives his hips up and slams inside me. My eyes roll back in my head as he pushes completely in. My body stretches to accommodate him in a painful full sensation that has me biting my lip till I taste the metallic and coppery flavor of blood.

“Fuck me, little dove. Fuck me straight to hell,” his gritty voice demands. He wraps a fist in my hair and yanks my head back, forcing my back to arch. Lips meeting my throat, his teeth sink into my skin, branding me with their bite. Claiming me. Owning me.

Beads of sweat roll down my back, dripping to the crack of my ass.

Hero grips my hips, guiding the pace as we move as one. My knees burn from the friction of the utility carpet. My skin breaks but I don’t dare stop. I ride him, taking every brutal thrust he meets me with.

This isn’t how I ever imagined losing my virginity. The same virginity I was ready to offer for sale I’ve given to a man I hate for free.

Warmth floods me as a low rumble leaves his throat. Every bone and muscle in my body aches with delicious gratification as our movements slow. Hero’s gaze meets mine as a sated smile crosses his features.

“This mean I passed the audition,” I tease and his hand wraps around my throat, giving me a squeeze in warning.

“Don’t try to be cute with me.”

I gasp as he squeezes harder, his thumb pressing into the base of my throat.

“I wasn’t…I.”

“Just came in you. That don’t mean shit to you?”

I stare at him unsure what he expects from me.

“You just play me for fifty k?”

“What?”

“Jesus. Fuck,” he clips and shoves me backwards by my shoulder, pushing me to the side as he does up his jeans.

His come runs down my thighs and it all hits me. Him taking me, me offering my body, how quickly I fell under his spell. No one will pay for the privilege of fucking spoiled goods. Tears roll down my cheeks.

“The fuck are you crying for? I’m the one who has to come up with fifty grand. I’m the one who just signed on to foot your father’s debt to my club.”

I snatch my clothes from the floor. “Sorry to be such a disappointing lay. Don’t worry about my father or the money. I’ll figure it out.”

“You’re a real pain in my ass. Pay the fifty to not put up with your sass.”

“Fuck you, asshole.”

“Think you just did that, babe. Be expectin’ that ass whenever I call on you.”

“You don’t strike me as the kind of man who needs to pay for pussy.”

“Get dressed. I’ve got a payment to make.”

I jerk my underwear up my legs followed by my shorts. I’ve barely gotten my shirt and shoes on before he’s forcing me back onto his motorcycle. I don’t know what I expected after, but this isn’t it. This dirty, raw wound has opened inside me and is festering with every passing second I have my arms wrapped around this outlaw. Does he imagine he owns me now?

That I’m his to do with as he pleases?

He brings me to a white house in an average middle-class neighborhood complete with a white picket fence. The yard is overgrown, and the fence could use a fresh coat of paint. The amount of motorcycle parts under the car port has me curious if this is Hero’s place. It’s a far cry from Big Daddy’s mansion. That’s for sure. Though it’s nicer than where I grew up.

He shuts off the bike and orders me off. I should run fast and hard from him, but my legs don’t seem to listen. I stay rooted in place as he puts the kickstand down. No words pass between us, yet I follow him inside. We enter through a side door that opens into a laundry room.

“Help yourself to the kitchen or whatever. I’ll be a few minutes.” He leaves me standing in the space between the kitchen and laundry room. I watch him strut down the hall and disappear into another room. There’s nothing to keep me here but I stay. What do I really have to go back to? My father is on the run. I have a job I hate answering the phone at an automotive detailing shop. I only took the job because I thought Grayson was hot only to find out the guy is a complete douche who cheats on his girlfriend all the time.

I explore the living room, not finding much other than a worn couch and busted TV. No personal effects. Nothing that has Hero’s personal stamp. Though if my father is anything to judge by men don’t need much to survive. Beer, cigarettes, sex, and pizza.

Hero’s footsteps thunder down the hall. He has a manila envelope tucking it into an inner pocket of his leather vest. “Let’s go,” he barks, and I hop to it at the urgent tone of his voice.

CHAPTER FIVE

HERO

A KNOT FORMS in the back of my throat the minute I pull up at Big Daddy’s. Twenty-five grand in my fucking pocket. I take Ophelia to the bar loving the fact that my come is still crusted on her thighs. I must be fucked in the head. She’s tainted me with her voodoo pussy. That’s what we call it when a brother gets stupid over a cunt.

But fuck me if she’s not got the sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted. I knew she was going to be trouble, just not of this variety. God knew exactly what he was doing when he created her. My greatest temptation and I fuckin’ failed the test.

“Stay here.” I plant her ass on a stool. “Keep an eye on her, Kidd. No one talks to her, and she doesn’t leave this area till I come back for her.”

“You got it, man.”

“Behave,” I warn Ophelia.

She glares at me, only I know if I want it, she’ll go down on her knees for me. She may hate me, but she wants me.

I leave her with the prospect and go off in search of Big Daddy. I check my watch. He should be having lunch in his office.

I find him there with his daughter. Sissy’s brat ass. Spoiled little bitch who gets away with too much shit. Prez shoulda sent her ass to boarding school after the last stunt she pulled.

“What’s this?”

I take out the envelope and drop it on his desk. “Twenty-five in there. Down payment on Dave’s debt.”

Big Daddy grins a sly smile. “Already fucked her, didn’t you?” he shakes his head with a chuckle as Sissy shoots me a dirty look.

I know she’s got it in her head that someday I’ll take her on as my Ol’ Lady. Never fuckin’ happen. Sooner or later her crush will fade. She’ll find a man who’ll cater to her princess ways. That’ll never be me. She’s too damn young for me for one thing and not my type.

“Hope you know what you’re doing,” Prez says. “Your pretty little pussy cat won’t like you much once you kill her Pops.”

“Be my problem, won’t it? Like this deal going south.”

“Gonna let that slide this once. Warned you about Dave. Next time, you’ll fuckin’ listen.”

“Right,” I mutter. “Later.”

“Church tomorrow.”

I nod and shove a cigarette between my lips. Sissy jumps up to offer me a light. She’s wild as fuck and Big Daddy lets her get away with it. Spoils her rotten. Brat always gets what she wants, except for me. She can wish in one hand and shit in the other. I take a hard drag and hit the stairs. Sissy keeps walking with me like a fucking stalker.

“So, is this chick your woman now?”

“None of your business.”

“She’s not too young for you but I am?”

I stop and turn to face her. “Told you before and this will be the last time we have this conversation. I think of you as a kid. A spoiled little brat in need of a spanking. But it won’t ever be me who takes up that task.”

“Do you even know how old she is?”

“This conversation is over.”

My cell vibrates. I swipe to accept a call from Tyrant. I stomp off from Sissy to take my call in private.

“Fucker was in the woods behind his house, but the dogs lost his scent by the railroad tracks. We’ll keep looking.”

“I’ll press the daughter.” I end the call and make my way back to the bar where I left Ophelia after finishing my cigarette.

I find her sitting at a table with Sissy. Immature bitch is probably filling her head with a bunch of bullshit no one has time for.

“Just watch your back is all I’m saying.” Sissy cuts her eyes to me.

“Ignore her. She’s got diarrhea of the mouth. We need to talk.” I grab Ophelia by the arm and don’t give her a chance to sass me about it.

I keep a room here. Where I took Ophelia to earlier was a stash house. I mainly use it when I need a break from the bullshit that comes with being VP to the club. Other times it serves as storage when I need to sit on a shipment.

I lock the door behind me and scrub a palm over the back of my neck.

Ophelia sits on the edge of the bed. “Now would be a good time to start talking. Your father have a woman he keeps? Any friends he’d go to?”

“Just because we fucked doesn’t mean I’m suddenly going to trust you.”

“I don’t know what bullshit Sissy fed you, but she has her own motives behind whatever she said. She’s got a crush on me. Thinks one day I’ll take her father’s place at the head of the club with her at my side. I’ve got no intention of ever looking at her as anything more than a spoiled bitch. Now that’s a check you can cash.”

“Who you fuck or not isn’t any of my business. As soon as this is done, I’ll be on my way.”

“You think it’s that easy? That you can enter this world and walk out when you choose to? Doesn’t work that way. The twenty-five grand I just handed my Prez as a down payment on your father’s debt makes you mine. You belong to me now, little dove. Guess you can call me the highest bidder.”

“Then I’ll work it off or if you let me go find my father, I’ll get him to hand over whatever it is he lost, or you think he stole from you.”

“You believe for one second that he misplaced a trailer with our drugs in it, you’re mistaken. Doesn’t work like that. The fifty thousand is just what your ol’ man was paid to drive the truck. He was driving a truck with a street value of three million. So, babe. The men who own that shipment not gonna give a fuck about no fifty grand. Now is it setting in? You being mine is a fucking kindness. What do you think they’ll do when they get his name from Big Daddy? You better pray I find him first. You better pray that my patch is enough to save your life and mine, because if I don’t get that shipment Big Daddy will be the least of our fucking problems.”

“What do you mean? I thought Big Daddy was like your boss or whatever?”

“Clue in, Ophelia. We run drugs for the cartel.”

“Oh my God. Holy shit.”

“C’mere.”

She shakes her head. “And you didn’t think to tell me this first?”

“Thought you’d crack before shit went this far.”

“So back there at Legends or whatever. Was that real or did you think fucking me would make me fall in love with you and I’d tell you whatever you wanted to know?”

“Not big on repeating myself. Come here.”

She fucking listens. I wrap my arms around her, holding her gaze. “Listen to me. Fucking you was no hardship. Me eating you and fucking you raw was real as it gets. I didn’t force you to participate. We’re in this together, yeah?”

She nods.

“Now you ready to talk?”

“I know where he might be. There’s a waitress he’s got an eye for. If I tell you, I want your word that you won’t kill him.”

“Babe. Word gets out…it’s more than our asses on the line. If he gives over the money and leads me to the trailer, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Okay. Her name’s Leslie. I don’t know where she lives but she works at this diner near the gas station he usually fills up at before he takes off from town on a job.”

I dial Tyrant and repeat what she told me. He’ll call me the second he has the bastard. I know what I promised Ophelia, but she’s got to understand we’re not dealing with men who give a fuck about any of us. No one gives a shit about what happens to my little dove but me.

“Now what?”

“Now we wait. The shipment isn’t expected for a few more days.”

“Then how did you know my father fucked you over?”

“Shouldn’t be telling you club business but being you’re caught up in the web you deserve to know. Whenever a shipment comes through, the club rides along for protection to make sure the delivery goes smooth. Normally Wicked handles shit but the fucker just had surgery and I stepped in. Thought I could count on your father. I’ve used him before. This time was different. He ditched my guys. Didn’t think he’d be stupid enough to turn up at home, but someone spotted him, and we showed up at your place. You know the rest.”

“Why would he be so stupid?”

“Was hoping you’d tell me.”

“I don’t know anything.”

“Doubt that.”

“The cartel,” she whispers, repeating what I’ve already told her. I kiss her temptress lips to distract her but mostly myself.

AN HOUR later I get another call from Tyrant. “We got a problem.”

I glance over at a sleeping Ophelia laying in my bed naked and thoroughly fucked proper. “Tell me about it.”

“Someone really doesn’t want us finding that shipment. Found Dave and his woman carved up like fuckin’ Christmas hams.”

“Cartel?”

“You think they’d go to such trouble to steal their own shipment?”

“You think it’s the Depraved Sinners making a move on our territory?”

“Looks like their handiwork.”

Knock. Knock. “Pull your dick outta your woman. Church in ten,” Torment calls out as he bangs on all the doors to alert the brothers.

“Take it you called it in to Prez first. See you soon.” I end the call. Whatever else there is to say, I’ll hear it with everyone else at church.

Stroking a finger over Ophelia’s swollen lips I smile amidst the hell that’s breaking loose. Then I remember I’m going to have to tell her about her father. Will she believe that my club didn’t do it?

“Babe. I’ve got a meeting, but I’ll be back soon as I can.” I kiss her and my cock fucking twitches in excitement, ready to reunite with her pussy.

She barely stirs. I wore her ass out.

“I’ll be back,” I repeat. “You need anything, I’ll have Kidd take care of it.”

She seems to nod in understanding.

I grab my jeans off the floor and take one last look at the woman in my bed.

OPHELIA

I’VE BEEN WAITING for nearly two hours for Hero to return to his room at Big Daddy’s mansion. That Kidd guy brought me a sandwich, but I can’t eat. I have a sinking feeling that something terrible has happened. Something concerning my father. The prospect said he doesn’t know anything, but I doubt he would tell me if he did unless Hero told him to do so.

Hero. The thought of him makes me smile though it shouldn’t. He brought me here as basically his prisoner then he paid part of the money he says my father owes. It’s all too much to process. Then I had to go and sleep with him again like some sort of addict. Like I had a taste of his cock and fell in love with his magic dick. What’s wrong with me?

He’s a dangerous man indebted to men worse than his club if that’s even possible. I’ve heard plenty of rumors about the Kings of Anarchy. The cartel though, they make these guys seem like choir boys in comparison. Sure, both organizations have killed people. Only I’ve never heard of the Kings hurting innocent people. Not intentionally, anyway. The cartel though. They don’t give a shit who falls victim in their street wars.

I can’t believe I’m comparing the two and find myself defending Hero, like he will live up to his name.

He wants to kill my father.

I’ve lost my mind. I mean, he did say he’d try to help him. Can I truly trust his word? On one hand, he did kind of buy me. He has no reason to lie to me. He told me all that other stuff about my father and the deal he had made.

I pace the room unable to think of much else.

The door opens and the second Hero’s gaze meets mine, I don’t know how I know, only that I do. My heart shatters into a million pieces.

“It wasn’t me. You’ve gotta trust me on that.”

I nod as my tears fall. I believe him even if I shouldn’t. I don’t think he’d lie. Not about this.

“An enemy of our club. House is on lockdown. No one in and no one goes out.”

“What?”

“Babe, listen to me. I’m going to find the bastards who did this shit. I’m going to make them pay.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re mine and no one fucks with my property.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’re mine, little dove. Mine to fuck. Mine to protect. Mine to love.”

I swallow hard. It’s too much.

He catches me as I fall to my knees.

“Look at me, Ophelia.”

I give him my eyes.

“I promise you I’ll make it worth it.”

“What?”

“A life with me.”

I gulp, accepting my fate. As I gaze into his mossy green eyes, I see his soul shining back at me. He may not be everyone’s hero, but right now he’s mine, and I’m in need of saving. His lips meet mine, kissing away my tears.

He seals his vow with another kiss. “You’re mine, little dove. Mine to fuck. Mine to protect. Mine to love.” His claim replays though my head on a loop.

My father’s dead. There’s a war brewing between bikers and possibly the cartel. And me. I’m property of Hero Miles. I don’t know if I want him to let me go.

Not now.

Maybe not ever.

About the Author

Glenna Maynard is a Wall Street Journal & USA Today Bestselling Author best known for her gritty motorcycle club romances. She has a passion for writing antiheroes and romance as dark as her heart with over sixty titles published.

When she isn’t arguing with the voices in her head or drinking reader tears, you can find her curled up with a good book or attempting a new craft with her kids and husband in Eastern Kentucky.

Loved Property of Hero and want to know more about the Kings of Anarchy MC?

Visit https://www.glennamaynard.com for more information.

HIDE & SEEK

H.D. CARLTON

ADDIE

“WE’RE MOVING into a new era, my brothers and sisters, and it’s nothing to be scared of. Take my hand, and I will lead you there…”

Snarling, I click off the T.V.

“Was that Gabriel Dubois?” Daya asks through the phone. I almost forgot she was there.

I sigh. “Yeah. Can’t fucking stand the dude, and for some godforsaken reason, he’s only getting more popular.”

He’s nothing more than another psycho maniac claiming to be God’s disciple. Really, he’s a regular, ordi-fucking-nary man that’s convinced himself he’s special.

“Zade will correct that real soon, especially considering who he is,” Daya says. “Are you home alone?”

“Yeah,” I answer, sipping from my wine glass. The rain patters loudly against the bay window, the lights flickering from the severity of the storm. I’m rocking in Gigi’s chair, laptop resting on my legs while I go over my manuscript before sending it off to my editor.

Nights like these are my favorite.

“Well, as alone as I can be,” I correct. “Even with Claire gone, Zade refuses to relax and keeps security around the property. I swear to God, they’re so bored, I saw one of them jacking off behind a tree the other day.”

“That’s disgusting,” she responds dryly.

I cringe, almost regretting saying that when I remember that my fiancé is a psychopath. “Don’t tell Zade that. He’ll chop off the dude’s dick.”

“How would he even know which guy it was?” she challenges.

I bite my lip, remembering the time when he delivered Archie’s hands in a box on my doorstep. Still extremely fucked up. And still slightly pissed about that.

But it’s the least traumatizing thing I’ve been through and well… he did deserve it.

“You’re right. He’d chop them all off and call it a day.”

I can’t see her, but I’m confident she just rolled her eyes.

“He’d chop off their dicks for less. I have no plans to say anything.”

The lights flicker again, and my heart flutters with excitement. I’m not exactly looking forward to having no power, but Parsons Manor being cast in complete darkness with the entities that roam the halls, sounds positively dreadful. And I fucking love that.

“Thanks,” I murmur, the sound of footsteps creaking from above, disturbing the steady sound of rain bulleting into the house. It pulls a grin out of me.

My phone buzzes in my hand, distracting me from the restless spirit. I pull the phone away long enough to glimpse who messaged me, and my heart flutters with excitement.

“Daya, I gotta go.”

“Okay, but don’t forget about wedding planning tomorrow!”

Now I’m rolling my eyes. “I told you, nothing extrava—”

“Shut up, this isn’t about you. It’s about me and fulfilling my maid of honor dreams.”

“Yeah, well, I’m still holding out until we find Sibby anyway,” I remind her. “No one would fulfill flower girl better than her.”

It’s only been four months since she’s been gone, but her absence weighs heavily on us. Parsons Manor isn’t the same without the little creep wandering around.

I miss training with her, and I miss her eating all the Pop-Tarts.

Worst of all, I just hate that we don’t know where she is.

Daya sighs. “I know. We’ll find her. And then, you will have the most over the top wedding imaginable. In the meantime, I’m bringing over cake tomorrow.”

I snort. “As long as there’s options. I’m hanging up now.”

I end the call in the midst of her singing adieu, a grin on my face while I click on the new message.

UNKNOWN: You’re so pretty when you smile.

Said smile widens, and I suck my bottom lip between my teeth as I read it over again, knowing exactly who it’s from. Yet, I feel adrenaline zip down my spine anyway.

Another message appears.

UNKNOWN: But you’re prettier when you cry.

Bastard.

He’s a sick fuck, yet somehow, I’m in love with him anyway. I look out the window, squinting to see through the blurry glass, but he’s not out there. At least not that I can see.

A moment later, all the lights cut out, drowning me in near darkness. I have a fire going, but the light isn’t strong enough to brighten more than ten feet or so, leaving most of the living room and kitchen completely shadowed.

I’m not so sure the storm was the cause.

Heart pounding, I set my laptop on the stool in front of me and stand, every little creak in the manor amplified. Already, my eyes are playing tricks on me. Shadow fingers skirt across the edge of light, and for a second, I swear I see something standing by the TV.

My phone buzzes in my hand again, and I nearly jump out of my skin from the unexpectedness of it, a yelp slipping free.

Jesus fucking Christ, I’m going to have a heart attack by thirty at this rate.

UNKNOWN: Hide, little mouse. If I find you, I fuck you.

Immediately, heat courses through my veins, and I’m clenching my thighs as I read over the message a second time.

How tempting to stay put. But I can’t deny the thrill of being chased by my shadow.

ME: No watching me through the cameras. Let’s see how good of a hunter you really are.

Tucking my phone in my back pocket, I scamper to the stairs and begin to quietly creep up them right when a flash of lightning blares through the windows, highlighting the living room in a moon-white glow for half a second. Part of me expected to see Zade standing there, hiding in the shadows, but I knew he wouldn’t make it so easy.

Hurrying up to the second floor, I keep one hand planted against the wall as I make my way down the hallway. I can’t see shit, and the adrenaline polluting my system like smog is making me feel dizzy.

I could use my phone’s flashlight, but what’s the fun in that? It would also give me away, and I won’t make it so easy for Zade, either.

It’s freezing, the unusually cold temperature only heightening the foreboding feeling clinging to my bones like marrow. As if to prove a point, something breathes down the back of my neck, sending an ice-cold chill down my spine.

That lights a fire under my ass. I scurry into the first room on my left, softly closing the door behind me. The hinges are flush with the corner of the room, so I tuck myself in the alcove. That way, when he opens the door, it will conceal me.

My heart thuds heavily in my chest as silence presses in around me. I’m shaking, and I’m not sure if it’s because of the adrenaline or because of the ghost that was way too close for comfort.

Several minutes tick by before I hear a distinct creak from down the hall. There’s no way to tell if it’s Zade or a spirit.

Footsteps slowly trail toward me, the pace casual, not a care in the world.

It’s Zade.

I bite the inside of my cheek, my stomach somersaulting when the footsteps cease outside my door. Hiding in the first room is too easy, we both know that. But I have no intentions of staying or letting him catch me.

Tension builds as the silence drags. The fucker is playing mind games with me.

Right when I’m convinced that he’s moved on, a loud bang reverberates on the door, the sound thunderous. Just barely do I slap my hand over my mouth before a startled yelp escapes.

That didn’t come from outside the room.

It came from the inside.

My wide eyes are locked in the direction of the closet, where the noise originated from. Someone is in there, and I’ve lost all confidence on who is in this room with me, and who is outside.

My heart is pounding wildly against my chest, and I think the adrenaline mixed with the terror is making me feel a little nauseous.

Before I can decide what the fuck to do, the door next to me is slowly creaking open.

Thank fuck. I’m desperate to get the hell out of here.

Zade’s profile appears as he enters, but I’m not sure if that makes me feel better or worse that he’s not the one in the closet.

Carefully, I slide along the wall until I reach the edge of the door while he walks deeper into the room. I’m fully prepared to slip out and make a run for it when Zade stills, his back to me, and his hood over his head. I freeze, too, hoping he doesn’t turn yet. Surely, he can hear my pulse from where he stands.

“Little mouse,” he calls dangerously.

Fuck this.

I dart out from my hiding spot and race back into the hall, plunged into complete darkness once more.

Zade’s deep laugh follows me as I sprint down the steps and into the living room, his footsteps close behind. I’m aiming for the sunroom when I hear Zade coming down the hall that’s on the other side of the steps, headed my way.

Shit.

I pivot and race back toward the staircase, my mind racing. I can either try to sneak out the front door or go back up to the second floor.

Or—I could come up behind him in the corridor and slip into one of the bedrooms down there, though I haven’t been in any of them since I renovated the place.

Biting my lip, I tip-toe past the stairs, and pop my head into the hallway, listening for my shadow. I hear nothing, so I slowly creep down toward one of the bedrooms, keeping my left hand planted on the wall to ground me. Straight ahead is the sunroom, but there’s nowhere to hide in there.

My hand brushes against wood with ridges in it, and I stop, remembering that there’s a closet here. I don’t use it, so I completely forgot about it. There’s a chance Zade has forgotten it exists, too.

Backtracking, I quickly open the door just enough to slip through and softly close it. It’s a spacious closet, but I stay close to the exit in the case I need to make a run for it.

A stillness descends over me, and if I’m not careful, Zade will feel my breath through the shutters once he passes by. My breath is stuttering out of my throat, broken up by the erratic pulse of my heart.

For several minutes, it’s quiet. Until it’s not. There’s a low creak from down the hall, stemming from the direction of the sunroom.

Heavy footsteps start my way, and I can’t help but take a step back, the doom of being found hanging low over my head.

Alarm bells blare as the footsteps near, and while the danger is definitely outside the closet door, it feels as if it’s also inside. Behind me. The hairs on the back of my neck rise, an ominous feeling needling into every one of my pores.

A warm gust of air fans lightly across my nape, and like a judge, it calls the goosebumps on my skin to all rise.

I freeze, every one of my joints locked as someone presses against me, molding their front to my back. My heart drops into my stomach, flipping it over until I feel like vomiting it back up.

Fuck. Me.

“Do you think it can smell your fear, little mouse?” he whispers before his finger feathers along the column of my neck. “Or maybe it can hear how hard your heart is beating—feel the pulse in your throat.”

I work to swallow, feeling like a rock is in my throat, but I can’t deny the low thrum beginning between my thighs.

“Fuck off,” I whisper unevenly, just as the footsteps pause outside of the closet.

His hand circles around my throat, the act as deadly as if it were a python.

“Shh,” he hushes darkly, punctuated by a low creak outside the door. Heat gathers low in my stomach, and I clench my thighs, the only thing that abates the need throbbing in my pussy.

Whatever is outside isn’t friendly. But I’m used to the foul spirits that reside in Parsons Manor. They don’t scare me any more than the predator at my back, playing with its food before going in for the kill.

Gradually, he severs my oxygen supply while something shakes the closet door violently. Despite myself, I flinch in Zade’s hold, the malice radiating from outside this confined place I’m trapped in unmistakable. His other hand glides across the waistband of my leggings before slipping beneath it. A gasp gets stuck in my throat as his fingers lightly brush across my clit.

“Maybe,” he starts again, his deep voice dropping lower, sending chills down my spine. “It can smell you.”

The moment the last word leaves his mouth, he plunges a finger inside my pussy. I can’t make a sound, the vibrations of a scream redirected to scatter across every one of my nerve endings.

My back bows, and the closet door shakes again.

“It must be hungry,” he murmurs, a low growl emanating deep from his chest when he adds a second finger, feeling my arousal flood around him.

Blackness licks at the edges of my vision, and the panic is steadily climbing as I struggle for oxygen. He pumps in and out of me, the noises emanating from his movements obscene.

Whatever is outside rattles the door again, harder this time, but it’s difficult to focus when Zade begins to circle my clit with his thumb.

He loosens his grip around my throat just enough to allow a sliver of oxygen through. I breathe in desperately, though it comes out choked when he adds a third finger.

“Zade,” I rasp, my hips involuntarily rolling into his hand.

“What do you think will anger it more, baby? The fact that it’s not fear that’s making you tremble or that the only monster that can hurt you is me?”

An uneven moan is the only response I’m capable of, though it bleeds into a sharp gasp when the negative spirit hits the door, causing me to jerk against him.

My heart jumps into my throat, and I’m convinced all my organs have decided to go AWOL, an attempt to abandon me and leave me with the beast. Whether it’s the one outside or the one behind me doesn’t matter. They’re both intent on possessing me.

As if to prove a point, his teeth clamp down on the delicate flesh beneath my ear, earning another husky moan.

My stomach is tight with a quickly growing orgasm, and I know the moment he pulls away, I’ll feel fucking empty.

He pumps his fingers quicker, and the sounds pouring past my lips are becoming cruder as he brings me closer and closer to the edge.

I think the door rattles again, but I’m past caring. My tunnel vision is focused on how fucking good he makes my pussy feel.

“Oh, God,” I groan.

“I’m here, baby. Now show that demon outside who truly possesses you,” he whispers, pressing firmly on my clit.

I squeeze my eyes shut as the knot in my stomach snaps, and I’m erupting all over his hand.

My head kicks back, a staccato scream surging from my throat as I’m swept away by a force that can only be wielded by a god.

A deep growl rumbles against my back, and I can feel Zade tensing as he continues to pump his fingers, drawing out my orgasm until I’m boneless. I collapse in his arms, but he holds me steady, and I can feel the slickness between my thighs, causing my leggings to stick to my skin uncomfortably.

Panting heavily, I lean a hand on the door, right as it stops shaking. I hadn’t even realized it had started again.

“Fuck,” I wheeze, though the word barely makes it out.

He pulls his hand away, and I can’t see a damn thing, but I can hear him licking his fingers clean. Even post orgasm, that turns me on, which is incredibly annoying.

And also, the perfect time to make an escape. He may have briefly distracted me, but I’m not ready to admit defeat.

There’s no time to give myself a mental pep talk, so I just act, whipping open the door and barreling into the hallway.

Fuck the ghost, I have an actual murderer chasing me.

I hear the door hit the wall as he charges out behind me, a deep growl following me as I sprint toward the entryway by the staircase, past them, and into the living room. The fire is still going, casting dancing shadows across the room that are suspiciously lifelike.

The adrenaline rushing through my system is convoluting my common sense, but the only place I can think to go is the sunroom.

Of course, the fucker doesn’t let me make it three more steps before he’s fisting my hair and jerking me back. Before my brain can catch up, I’m falling backward, though he controls my descent and softens the blow just enough that I won’t need to visit any hospitals tonight.

I yelp, curses pouring from my mouth as I struggle in his hold, desperately trying to break free. It takes a few seconds before my training kicks in and I outmaneuver him, but he’s already two steps ahead of me and easily counters my attempts. He’s always two steps ahead of me.

My hands are trapped on my sides, in between his thick thighs, and he sits on me heavily, preventing me from doing nothing more than wiggling like a worm on a hook.

Bastard.

Heaving, I glare up at him, huffing through my nose like a raging bull. The bright, orange glow from the fire creates a startling effect on his face. Light and darkness wage a war across the sharp planes of his features. His light, blue eye is brightened, the scar slashing through it prominent, while his dark eye retreats into the shadows.

He seizes my face between his fingers, pinching my cheeks roughly as he gets in my face.

“If I find you, I fuck you,” he snarls.

“Fuck off,” I bite out, more contrite that I lost. I’m a sore loser, and the dickhead knows it. So, I do the worst thing possible and spit in his face. Because self-preservation is so last season.

He rears back in shock, enough time for me to wiggle one arm loose and send my fist flying into his cheek.

A wicked laugh booms from his throat, and he catches my wrist easily, squeezing hard enough to give me a warning.

I don’t listen. I buck beneath him, and the power struggle renews. I’m able to land one more punch with my other fist, but within seconds, he’s pinning my arms above my head with one hand, and once more rendering me useless.

“Asshole,” I spit, right as he grips the collar of my t-shirt and rips it off in a single move, my bra quickly following. My mouth drops open, helplessly watching the tattered remains be tossed to the side.

“I liked that bra.”

He ignores me, and I feel him grab the waistband of my leggings next. I struggle hard, but to no avail, and my anger spikes when they briefly tighten around my waist, only to be ripped from my body.

“Zade!” I shout, growling as he turns me over onto my stomach, locking my wrists behind my back. Instantly, I freeze, my eyes widening with true panic, and my stomach revolting.

For a moment, it’s not Zade behind me anymore, but Rocco.

Convinced of it, I renew my fight, but he’s bearing his weight down on me.

“Get off of me!” I shout, desperate to break free. My thoughts race a mile a second, tripping over themselves as I try to find a way out from his hold.

“Say my name again, baby. Let me hear it,” he demands roughly. I scream at him instead, but he persists. “Say it, Adeline.”

His sharp command pierces through the panic long enough for his name to slip out.

“Zade,” I whisper, though I refuse to still completely. Terror is pumping into my system steadily, and my vision is tunneling.

“Say it again,” he orders, his palm gliding over my asscheek and up my waist, the action possessive—claiming—yet comforting.

“Zade,” I choke out, my voice broken with too many emotions to sift through. Rocco is disappearing, but my chest aches with how hard the muscle within beats.

“Good girl,” he praises, rolling his hips into my backside. I feel the hard press of him against my spine, and the bite of his zipper. “Focus on me, and only me.”

He pulls back enough to tear at my thong, the material biting into my skin and offering a small dose of pain to ground me. Then, his teeth are sinking into the apple of my ass, drawing a hiss from between my teeth. I arch into his mouth, pain and pleasure threading together like a strand of DNA.

His wet tongue glides up toward my hip before he takes another savage bite, a groan releasing from his throat, mingling with my own.

Just as the pain becomes too much, his fingers brush against my pussy, dipping inside me briefly to gather my arousal on the tips, before sliding them up to my clit.

My eyes flutter, my stomach tightening as his mouth gradually ascends my body, delivering sharp, unmerciful bites. Within moments, I’m shuddering, my teeth chattering as his fingers continue to work me skillfully.

“Say my name,” he demands roughly, then clamps his teeth down on the back of my shoulder.

“Zade!” I gasp, and as a reward, he sinks two fingers inside me, causing my eyes to roll.

His teeth release me, only for him to crowd over me, his hot breath fanning across my ear.

“Now scream it,” he whispers. Before I can open my mouth, he’s gone, only to reappear between my legs. In seconds, my wrists are free, giving me just enough time to balance myself on the floor as he lifts me up by the hips.

I don’t even have a moment to breathe before his tongue is swiping up my pussy before sucking my clit into his mouth.

Unconsciously, I heed his demand and scream his name.

How silly of me to think I had any choice.

He growls against me, the vibration running through my entire body as he feasts on me. My legs tremble violently while he trades between licking and biting me.

“Ahh! Oh my God, Zade, oh fuck,” I chant, arching my back impossibly farther, desperate to feel more of him yet already feeling too much.

He groans again, lapping at me sensually, dipping his tongue inside me, only to circle back to my clit once more.

“You’re told to get on your knees to pray so you can make it into heaven,” he starts, his voice a deep rumble. He can’t resist licking me again before continuing, “But I’m your God, and the only way I will take you is when I’m on my knees.”

I bite my lip, overcome with sensation as he quickly brings me to another orgasm. It rips through me like lightning, and it feels like I’m exploding from the force of it, until only stardust remains.

A scream rips from my throat as I seize against him, my head dropping heavily to the floor, my moans turning into sobs.

Right as I come down, he bites my clit, and the outcry that bursts from my throat is one born of overstimulation and pain.

“Zade!” I shout, squeezing my eyes shut as he relentlessly suctions it into his mouth, until I’m quite literally kicking at him to get away.

I manage to land a solid kick to his shoulder, knocking him away enough to free myself from his hold. By pure instinct alone, I start crawling away, the checkered tiling digging into my knees uncomfortably.

I hear him chuckle darkly from behind me, which only serves to heighten the adrenaline churning in my stomach.

A startled yelp escapes when I feel his hands clamp around each ankle and drag me back toward him, my nails clawing into the floor. It feels like I’ve stumbled my way into a horror movie, the psychotic serial killer hunting me down and dragging me into the depths before brutally taking my life.

And while Zade would never kill me, my life has always been his for the taking.

I kick at him while he wrangles me onto my back, allowing me to put more strength behind my strikes. He easily overpowers me, though, and forces his body between my legs, hands on either side of my head while he grins manically in my face.

“Where are you going, little mouse?” he taunts, before leaning in close, delivering a sharp nip to my jaw. “I’m not finished eating my dinner.”

“Oh, fuck off,” I gasp.

My back arches when he rolls his hips against mine, the sharp bite of his zipper grinding directly on my sensitive clit, concealing his hard cock.

I’m not sure the sound that leaves my lips is one of protest or encouragement, but it wouldn’t matter either way. Nothing would stop Zade from taking what he wants.

My mouth falls open when he grinds against me a second time, and he seizes the opportunity by capturing my lips with his, dipping his tongue inside and curling it erotically along the roof of my mouth.

Electricity pulses under the surface of my skin, and I’m simultaneously melting and coming alive beneath him.

My hands shove at his hoodie, forcing him to break our kiss while I tear the offensive fabric from his body. He descends back onto me immediately, and I slide my palms along his chest, feeling the raised texture of the rose scar carved over his heart. I trace the other one on his chest down to the contours on his stomach, brushing the pads of my fingers across a third scar.

He’s heartbreakingly beautiful.

Not wasting any more time, I pop the button on his jeans and slide the zipper down, reaching beneath his briefs to grip his cock. It’s almost disturbing how tiny my hand feels when wrapped around him.

A growl resounds in my mouth, and his teeth gnash savagely at my lips while he rolls his hips deeper into me.

I shove down his pants impatiently, prompting him to kick them and his briefs the rest of the way off, completely baring himself for me.

Instantly, his cock slides against my pussy, and we both groan into each other’s mouths. He grabs himself and glides the tip through my slit, a low growl radiating from his chest.

Slowly, he pushes inside me. I’ve no idea how many times Zade has fucked me by now, but every time feels like the first time.

His breath fans across my neck, traveling to right below my ear before delivering a sharp bite.

“Oh my God,” I breathe, shuddering as he sinks deeper, his palm sliding up to my breast and cupping it tightly.

I feel him grin against me before he whispers, “I am your God, and you, little mouse, are my favorite creation.”

My eyes roll as he fills me completely, the sound erupting from my throat choked and high-pitched.

He doesn’t let me adjust any longer, immediately pulling his hips back only to drive inside me to the hilt, his body slamming into me hard enough to slide me up the floor an inch.

My hands fly to his shoulders, nails digging in deep to anchor myself as he sets a harsh but steady pace, pulling more otherworldly moans from my mouth.

It’d be embarrassing if I hadn’t already gotten used to the sound of my body falling apart.

“Shh, baby, the ghosts might hear you,” Zade murmurs, the glow from the fire highlighting the devilish grin on his face.

“Let them,” I bite out, my brows furrowing when he rolls his hips just right.

Curling my legs around him, I force him closer until he’s grinding against me, his pelvis rubbing my clit and causing my nails to dig deeper.

“You like being watched, Adeline?” he questions darkly. “What do you want them to see, hm? I could bring you to the brink of death, get them excited that maybe you’ll be joining them soon.”

His hand brushes across my throat threateningly, the act as sinister as the words coming from his mouth. Butterflies unleash in my stomach, my instincts remembering just how often Zade follows through on his promises.

“You’re psychotic,” I breathe, though my eyes are threatening to cross from what he’s doing to my body.

He hooks his arms underneath my thighs and lifts them, my knees nearly up to my ears. I cry out, the sensations sharper as he continues to grind against me, keeping up the movements that he knows drive me wild.

Then, his hand is closing around my throat, causing my heart to drop with fear.

“You won’t do it,” I challenge, my oxygen quickly depleting as his grip tightens. “You couldn’t live without me.”

“No, little mouse, I couldn’t. I’d follow you in death, and then you’d never be able to escape me.”

I bite my lip as he clamps down on my neck completely, and whatever words that were on my tongue dissipate alongside the air in my lungs.

Deep in the pit of my stomach, an orgasm is forming—like a storm brewing, beginning with a few storm clouds and growing into a hurricane.

He hits that perfect spot inside me that has my thighs tightening and my toes curling. The pressure in my stomach sharpens, creating a desperation that never seems to wane, no matter how often Zade makes me come.

No sound can breach the constriction around my throat, causing my heart to pick up with adrenaline and panic. I flail, but he doesn’t relent as he fucks me harder.

“Do you hear that?” he whispers.

I didn’t—at least not at first. But now that he’s brought attention to it, there are footsteps pacing the floor behind me. My heart pounds harder, the terror swirling in my veins only intensifying the pleasure.

The crease between my brows deepens, and I know my face is on the verge of turning purple. My vision is fading, yet the orgasm only grows stronger.

I tap at Zade’s hand, desperate for air, but he only unhooks his other arm from my leg, reaches between us and firmly circles my clit.

Then, my vision does blacken completely and moments later, I’m exploding. Immediately, Zade releases my throat, and the breath I suck in is obnoxiously loud as I completely unravel.

My first scream is almost entirely silent, overcome with the climax that is ripping my insides to shreds and battling with my body’s instinctive need to fucking breathe.

When I can finally suck in enough air, the second scream begins as a cry and ends in a sob.

Zade doesn’t relent. He continues to drive into me, his teeth clamping down on my neck in a savage bite that has my eyes crossing and another wave of ecstasy rolling through me.

“Fuck, oh fuck, Zade,” I cry, the words garbled.

Shudders are racking my body, and I’ve lost control over all functions.

Right when it becomes too much, his arms move to slide underneath my back, and then he’s standing, bringing me with him. I clutch onto his shoulders while he walks us to the fireplace, tension building in my muscles as we near. My orgasm has retreated enough for me to regain my senses, and a part of me wishes I hadn’t.

Any other woman would find this romantic, to be fucked in front of a fireplace—if they were dating a normal man. And while Zade is romantic, he also finds every opportunity to push my boundaries, and I have a sinking feeling this will be no different.

“Zade,” I hedge, his name coming out as a warning.

He doesn’t answer, instead sinking to his knees right before the fireplace, my back directly to it. I peek around my shoulder, the heat sinking into my skin and making me uncomfortably hot.

“Zade,” I try again, my voice pitching with hysteria.

Still, he stays quiet and reaches beyond me to grab a gothic candelabra that sits next to the pit, the five candles halfway melted down to the black ornate arms.

“Lean back on your hands,” he orders. I hesitate. I’m on his lap, his knees spread wide as he balances on his heels and his cock trapped between our bodies. Moving back would put me too close to the fire for comfort.

He meets my eyes, a feral expression on his face, all his sharp edges and harsh lines even more prominent. His icy, blue eye looks like moonlight, and just like the ocean tides, it sucks me in.

It’s enough to suspend my heart in my chest. Swallowing nervously, I do as he says, the heat intensifying as I near.

He gives no warning before he’s lifting my hips and sinking inside me once more, my previous orgasms offering only a small reprieve from his size as he stretches me. It doesn’t abate the burn, but right now, it’s the only one I welcome.

My back arches, my head beginning to fall back and instantly causing me to flinch, scared that my hair is going to fall victim first to the flames. I’ll be so fucking pissed if that happens.

Reaching forward, he grabs my jaw and pushes me back farther, and my entire body cements into stone, a startled gasp slipping past my lips.

“Do you feel as I do?” he asks, a snarl forming as he sinks inside me, jerking my body even closer to the heat. “Like you’re burning alive, and the one holding you over the flames is the one you can’t live without?”

I can only stare at him with widened eyes as he releases me, then grabs one of the candles and sticks the tip into the fire, the wick igniting instantly.

“Do you trust me?” he questions, flicking his mismatched eyes to me.

“Yes,” I whisper without hesitation. “But you’re also a freak, and that’s a little scary.”

His answering grin is wolfish. My heart pounds inside my chest, uncertainty holding me hostage as he brushes the bottom of it down through the valley of my breasts, across the planes of my stomach and to my pussy. I tense as he uses it to circle my clit, the flickering flame inches from his own stomach.

I shudder, my thighs stiffening as he coaxes pleasure from between my legs, the wax beginning to slowly melt in his hand. Then, he begins to roll his hips seductively, the movements slight but effective.

“Oh,” I breathe, my eyes fluttering. “That feels so good.”

He’s watching what he’s doing closely, but I can’t look away from him and how fucking devastating he looks beneath the flames. His long lashes brush across his cheeks, and his lips are slightly parted. The defined contours of his physique thrive beneath the firelight, and more than anything, I wish I could capture this image of him forever.

Sensing my stare, he lifts his yin-yang eyes to mine, suspending the oxygen in my lungs. A slight smirk tips up the corner of his lips, and my stomach clenches from the sight.

He’s an unnatural being that has no business walking this earth.

“But is it enough?” he questions.

Before I can ask, what he means, the first drip of hot wax has a sharp yelp rupturing from my throat as it burns a trail down the inside crease of my thigh.

“Fuck,” I curse, my voice breathless.

My eyes fly to the candle just as another drop lands on my flesh, drawing a hiss from between my teeth.

He hums, the sound of a beast that’s been caged for too long. “Your cunt looks so pretty when I make it red.”

Gradually, Zade quickens his pace, and I’m helpless to stop the low moans from breaking free. More drips of hot wax land on my pussy in quick succession. My entire body flushes, the heat at my back as relentless as the wax burning vengeful trails down between my legs. A thin layer of sweat coats my skin as euphoria builds beneath his ministrations.

My arms are trembling, and I’m no longer in control over myself. My own hips are rolling to meet his thrusts, no longer caring where the hot wax lands—it feels too good.

It doesn’t take long before I can no longer hold myself up, so I drop onto my upper back. He raises up on his knees, my back arched, and ass now completely lifted as he drives into me. One hand holds onto my hip, while the other continues to swirl the melting candle on my clit.

Sharp cries fill the empty space, broken up by Zade’s own moans, and the sounds of his cock sliding in and out of me.

“Fuck, you take it so good. You make me so proud,” he rasps, enraptured by the sight of him fucking me.

“Yes, yes,” I moan, the word saturated with desperation. “Don’t stop.”

“Look at you, begging for my cock like a greedy, little slut.”

I shake my head, incapable of uttering a single word when sharp pleasure is building too quickly for me to grasp onto.

He lifts the candle from my clit, and the loss of pressure has a mewl slipping free, though it quickly bleeds into a cry as a hot trail of wax drips up my stomach and to my breasts. He lets it melt onto each nipple, my cries growing sharper from the stinging pain. His hand is covered in the white coating, trails of it leading across the back of his hand and down his wrist, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Greed, lust… you know those sins are deadly,” he admonishes. “And you know what happens when you sin, don’t you, baby?”

The only response I’m capable of is a gargled shout when the searing trail leads back down toward my pussy. He angles his hips, hitting that spot inside me that sends my eyes rolling to the back of my head.

“Oh my God, Zade!” I sob, my hands flying to my breasts, the cooled wax cracking beneath my palms as I squeeze tightly.

“That’s right, little mouse. And I will make you burn.”

Then, he hovers the candle directly over my clit, setting it aflame, though careful to keep it away from my entrance.

My mouth falls open on a silent scream, the flames sinking into my skin, merciless as he fucks me. The raging fire is right before my face, and when the orgasm crests, I open my eyes, lost in the inferno as he takes me over the edge.

Vaguely, I hear something hit the ground before his thumb swirls firmly across my clit. My back bows until only my head remains on the tiled flooring. My soul is being ripped from my body; an exorcism performed by a godly being.

He is the one who dragged me under, and he is the only one who can bring me back.

Something carnal is ripped from my throat, but it’s lost to my ears. I’m no longer of this earth, of this plane of existence. I’m somewhere deeper—hotter—somewhere eternal.

I’m burning alive.

A roar rips through the static in my head, and Zade fucks me faster, filling me with his own release while I contract around him.

I think my body is shaking, and my lungs are no longer functioning as I lose myself to the waves of bliss coursing through me.

An indiscernible amount of time passes before the orgasm wanes, and I slowly regain my senses.

He pulls out from me, settling my body flat on the cool tile and dragging me away from the fire.

It takes a few moments for my vision to filter back in, and when it does, I find Zade crowded over me, his lips gently pressed into the rose carved over my heart.

Breathing heavily, I toss my limbs out to the side, utterly spent.

“I totally let you win that game,” I pant.

His chuckle vibrates against my chest, and he lifts his head to meet my eyes, lifting his hand to thumb my bottom lip fondly.

“As if you could ever escape me, little mouse.”

I grin. “As if I’d ever want to.”

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About the Author

H. D. Carlton is an International Bestselling Author. She lives in Ohio with her partner, two dogs, and cat. When she’s not bathing in the tears of her readers, she’s watching paranormal shows and wishing she was a mermaid. Her favorite characters are of the morally gray variety and believes that everyone should check their sanity at the door before diving into her stories.

Learn more about H. D. Carlton on hdcarlton.com. Join her newsletter to receive updates, teasers, giveaways, and special deals here.

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VIRTUOUS LIES

A LIES OF THE UNDERWORLD EXTENDED EPILOGUE

HALEY JENNER

VINCENT

“YOU DIDN’T TELL me you owned a plane.”

Bianca’s eyes widen as she takes in the private jet, shifting in her seat and securing her lap belt like she’s on a passenger flight.

“I don’t.”

She stares at me. “Okay, you didn’t tell me the family owned a plane.”

I turn my face to hide my smirk. “They don’t.”

“You’re being purposely obtuse, and it’s pissing me off,” she bites, arms crossing over her chest, a thick sigh puffing from her chest.

“I rented the plane, wife.”

Her arms unfurl from their defensive hold, her eyebrows rising with surprise. “You rented a plane?”

“I’m taking you on the honeymoon you never got, which means I plan on fucking you as often as I can. I can’t really have you screaming my name on a passenger jet. You’d scare the kids.”

She pushes my arm, and I grab her wrist, enjoying the way her cheeks darken with desire.

“You want to have sex with me on this plane?” she whispers, afraid the single crew member and pilot will hear her.

I touch my lips to her wrist, the subtle scent of her perfume making me inhale. “Multiple times. I plan on stripping you naked and gaining access to the body you’ve kept from me for almost a week. I’m gonna kiss every inch of your skin, from your ankles to your eyelids, and make you come a dozen times before I slam my cock inside you and watch the way your lips part while I fill you up.”

Her gaze drops to my mouth, her tongue dipping out to wet her lips. “I haven’t kept my body from you.”

“Dolcezza,” I rebuke. “I haven’t seen you naked in almost seven days. Why?”

“Where are we going?” She ignores my question.

I sit silently.

“Vinnie?”

“I’ll answer you when you answer me.”

She rolls her eyes. “How mature of you.”

The flight attendant moves through the cabin, smiling as she approaches. “I hope the takeoff was smooth for you both. We’ll be in the air for about eight and a half hours. Should you need anything, please don’t hesitate to let me know.” She gestures to a call button by our seats. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“I’ll have a whiskey. Bianca?”

“Water, please.”

The hostess dips her chin.

“When we have our drinks, we’d like our privacy.”

Read. Make yourself scarce unless voyeurism is your kink and you enjoy the sight of a man pushing his wife to the brink of pleasure, only to yank her back time and time until she’s a puddle of malleable desperation.

She smiles knowingly. “Of course, sir.”

I’m not the first asshole to fuck on this plane, and I sure as shit won’t be the last. That’s half the cost, isn’t it? Their invisibility so I can do all the depraved things I want.

Returning with our drinks only moments later, the hostess disappears, leaving Bianca and me alone.

“I’m just going to use the bathroom.” She stands and walks away before I can stop her, and I scowl at her retreating form.

I sip my whiskey, annoyed that Bianca has once again disappeared when I’ve all but kidnapped her to have time alone with her. She’s made excuse after excuse this week every time I attempt to touch her. I’m about to lose my fucking mind. Every drop of blood in my body has drawn itself into my cock, and I can’t fucking think straight. Before Bianca, I’d go months without sex, and I wouldn’t feel anywhere near as crazed as I have been for the past seven days. The woman has me by the balls, and they’re about to explode.

I’m tempted to follow her into the bathroom, but I didn’t hire a private jet to fuck her in the bathroom like I’m flying cattle. I want space to fuck her the way I need to, and I’m not interested in maneuvering around a box barely thirty inches wide. I have an entire plane to explore her body. Fuck hiding away where people piss and shit to avoid being caught.

I retrieve my cell from the table in front of me, flicking through messages and emails in an attempt to distract myself. It doesn’t work.

The bathroom door opens, and I throw the phone onto the table without hesitation. She has my full attention, and I plan on securing her to her seat until she tells me what the fuck is going on.

I move to speak when she comes into view, but my words catch in my throat. She’s spent her time changing, her body now encased in only a silk robe. It rests on her shoulders, and I struggle to swallow, my mouth dry. She hasn’t secured the tie, and the silk drags across her skin. My hand grips my whiskey glass. I’m afraid to move. Afraid I won’t be able to control myself if I give in to the need to claim her the way I long to. I shift in my seat, making room for the way my cock swells in my pants. I want her at my mercy, my mouth itching to open, to demand she crawl to me. But I’d lose the vision of her naked skin, so my words remain in my throat, breaking away with every step as she moves closer.

“I haven’t kept my body from you because I don’t want you,” she murmurs, and her voice is barely audible over the heavy draw of my breath. “I would never keep my body from you in that way.”

Dragging her fingers over the opening of her robe, the material brushes over the stiff peaks of her nipples, and her chest shudders with her quick intake of breath. I want to pluck at them with my fingers. I want to take them in my mouth. I want to lick them, suck them, bite them.

“But I have a surprise for you,” she interrupts my salacious thoughts. “And I needed to wait.”

My ears are pounding, restrained desire holding on by a thread, fraying away and relinquishing the need to control my urges. “Wait?” I choke out.

“Mm,” she hums, moving closer and closer until she steps between my legs, my knees bracketing hers. I tip the remainder of my whiskey into my mouth, dropping the glass to the floor without regard.

Lifting her leg, she slides her foot between my legs, inching it toward my crotch. Her foot pushes against the hard line of my cock, and I hiss. Eyes trained on hers, it takes everything within me not to drop my gaze to her exposed pussy.

“Baby.” Her hands grip her robe, pushing the material off her shoulders to let it fall to her feet. “Look.”

I swallow, glancing down. My gaze seeks out the smooth touch of her pussy, but it snags on her inner thigh, and she pushes her knee out, exposing herself completely.

The palm of my right hand grips her thigh, my left hand stabilizing her when she falters in her one-legged stance.

My nostrils flare, a stamp of greed and ownership imprinting itself over my heart like the scar of her initial forever carved into my skin. My name reads out in thin, cursive lettering inked into her upper thigh. Vinnie. High enough that when I make her pussy cry, her orgasm would kiss my name in gratitude.

“Did a man do this?” I’m elated and pissed off. A sense of pride blooms in my chest, squashed only by my possessive need to know who was permitted access to this intimate part of her body.

She smirks, and I’m annoyed the ink is only days old because I want to taste my name on her skin.

“I haven’t touched myself in seven days. I want you so fucking bad.”

My grip on her leg tightens. “Bianca,” I warn. “Did a man do this?”

Her hand moves down her stomach, fingers reaching for her cunt, but I grab her wrist, and she growls in frustration.

“Tell me right fucking now before I have them turn this plane around and search all of New York City for the man stupid enough to put his hands on my wife’s upper thigh.”

“Would you kill him?” she breathes, and my eyes shoot to hers.

Her pupils are dilated, wide with intrigue and lust. This side of her still manages to shock me when it appears. My gentle and innocent wife preens at the thought of bloodshed in her name.

“Would that turn you on, Bianca? To watch me strangle a man for touching what belongs to me?”

She bites her lip. “Killing turns you on,” she tells me. “The control you hold in your hands turns your dick to stone and makes you fuck like a man possessed. That turns me on. My dangerous Vinnie.”

Fuck.

“If you let a man touch you here…”

“It was a woman.” She sighs, regret fanning her lashes against her upper cheeks as her eyes close. “Now, I’m pretty sure you promised to make me come a dozen times before filling me with your cock and cum.”

The truth is, I couldn’t give two shits if the person had a dick or a cunt—a need to maim, to hurt, to kill ignites in my gut. Someone touched her. Someone put their hands close enough to her pussy to smell it. Someone who wasn’t me.

“You can have as much ink as you want, Bianca. But if anyone—I don’t give a shit if they’re a fucking priest—touches you, and I’m not there, they die. Am I understood?”

She raises an eyebrow.

“Do not test me on this, wife. Touching you is my privilege and my privilege only.”

“I can remove that privilege.”

“You can. But you won’t.”

She can pretend all she wants. But my wife loves me with the fire I do her. Nothing else exists in this world where we’re concerned. I’d die for her, and I know she’d do the same for me, though I’d destroy the world before that was ever a necessity. We’re one fucking soul, and while I know she’s destined for heaven and me for hell, I’ll bond myself to God to make sure we aren’t separated in the afterlife.

“Tell me you understand me.”

She licks her lips. “I understand.”

“Good. Now put your fingers in your pussy.” I release her wrist, and she complies immediately, her index and middle finger sliding between her folds and pushing inside.

Her stomach presses in, her mouth opening on a silent moan of pleasure.

“What do you feel?” My thumb brushes under my name over and over again, my obsession with the fine line tattoo growing with every shuddered breath from her lips.

“Wet,” she whispers.

“Dripping,” I echo.

“Mm,” she agrees. Rolling her hips into her palm, she pushes her fingers deeper. “Warm.”

My memories spark, and my fingers heat with the recollection of how snug and hot her cunt is. I know her warmth. I can feel her nectar all from memory.

“Feels so good.”

“Are you throbbing?”

“Throbbing. Vinnie.” My name is a plea wept from her lips.

“Don’t come.”

She whimpers. “Vinnie,” she repeats, more desperate than before.

“Don’t. Come.”

Her eyes open, lids lazy as she scans my face. “Please.”

I almost give in to the desperation in her prayer. “No.”

Pulling her hand out just enough to remove the pressure of her palm from her clit, she continues to stroke her inner walls.

“I don’t care if your entire body has been tattooed and you’re given strict instructions to abstain from physical touch. You never keep your pleasure from me. Do you understand?”

Her eyes flutter close.

“Look at me.”

She opens them.

“I don’t have to touch you to make you feel good. Understood?”

She nods. “Yes.”

“Good girl. Now take your fingers out of your sweet cunt before you come.”

Her face falls, a wanton cry echoing between us.

A sound of warning tickles my throat.

Reluctantly, she pulls her hand from her pussy, sliding her slippery fingers over her clit one last time. She bites her lip.

“Now take those fingers and suck them.”

Her chest heaves, but she does as she’s told without argument. Her tongue dips out first, her fingers resting there as her lips move to cover them. She sucks, dragging them through her lips, cheeks hollowed, a soft moan echoing the wet sound of her tongue.

“Taste that?” I tilt my head, watching her eyes burn with heat. “That’s the flavor of desperation, and right now, it’s just the beginning. You want delayed gratification, my little whore? I’m gonna give it to you in a way you’ve never experienced.”

Her fingers slide over her bottom lip, pulling it down.

“I haven’t pumped my cock since you began this little abstinence act, so you’ll spend the next while making it feel good for being so fucking selfish.”

Her knees drop to the plush carpet of the plane before I command her to do so. “So eager,” I muse. “Your cunt gets so slick when my dick is in your mouth. You’ll be so wet by the time I finish, you’ll be dripping over my name, begging me to take you.”

“I’ll beg you now.”

I smirk. “I bet you fucking would. No.” I shake my head. “This is better. I want you to feel as desperate as I have these last few days.”

“You know I’ve been as desperate as you have.”

I lift a shoulder. “You were the only one holding back.”

I expect her to move straight for my pants, the tented material straining for attention. But she moves into me, a single finger hooking over the neck of my shirt to pull me toward her. “Kiss me.”

I don’t deny her.

Bianca’s tongue licks out, dragging itself over my lips, and I suck her tongue into my mouth, groaning at the lingering taste of her pussy. She deepens our kiss, frenzied need electrifying us both and causing our teeth to clash and tongues to war.

Her hands grip my shirt, and she flicks at a button or two before I growl in warning. She swallows the sound, clutching at the material before yanking it apart with a forceful tear. Buttons rip away, and her palms slide onto the naked touch of my chest. She moans into my mouth.

Her mouth moves away from mine, lips and tongue caressing my jaw and moving down my neck. My hands itch to touch her, to throw her to the ground and bury my cock deep in the lubricious walls of her cunt. But I hold back.

Her tongue flicks over my nipples, her teeth following. I breathe through my nose, knowing my dick is leaking in my pants, begging for more. She licks up the line of barbed wire on my side, tasting my sins and letting them fire her need. She kisses down the heavy divots of my abdominal muscles, and my heart pounds loud enough in my chest that I can feel the pulse in my neck throb. Her lips continue their assault as she unbuckles my belt and undoes my pants.

“You’re so thick, baby.” She grips me over my boxers.

I growl. “Bianca.”

“Are you throbbing?” Her teeth bite into her lip in an attempt to disguise her smile.

“Put it in your mouth and decide for yourself.”

She lets go of her smile, the gesture moving across her entire face. “I love you,” she whispers, the words full of truth and affection, and I am almost tempted to pick her up and carry her to the bedroom tucked away at the back of the plane and make love to her so I can watch her face as she moans those same words over and over again.

“Te amo, dolcezza,” I murmur, loving the way her chest expands with the endearment. “Now kiss my cock and make me come.”

A soft bark of laughter filters between us as she reaches into my boxers and grabs my dick.

I groan, head falling back and my hips lifting in encouragement.

Her tongue hits me first, a gentle graze as she licks around my head, sliding over my slit and letting the beads of precum dance in her mouth.

Humming in pleasure, she swallows more of me down, the wet embrace of her mouth making my balls tighten.

Storm clouds rouse in the very pit of my stomach. The way her tongue grazes my cock shoots through every nerve ending in my body. I’m weak. She sucks, and I have never felt more fragile, ready to explode into a million irredeemable pieces.

I glance down and meet her eyes. Keeping our gaze, she drops down farther. Her small cough of resistance has me thrusting forward, opening her throat to my intrusion. Her eyes water, and my chest expands at how powerful she makes me feel. I demand respect in my everyday life. I live in the realms of power, and others respect that. But here, with just Bianca and me, her on her knees, pushing herself to please me, I’m invincible. The soft slide of her tongue and the salty touch of her tears are her silent way of begging me to come, to empty into her mouth and let my cum slide down her throat as a reward for making me feel good. My control undoes us both, and as she grips my thighs, I read her implicit request to thrust forward, to fuck her face and make her choke. My hand grabs at her crown, gripping her hair. She whimpers around me, her body shifting as her thighs rub together, seeking friction.

“You want me to fuck your face, little whore?”

She moans.

“I can’t hear you.” I push her head down, making her swallow more of me.

Her saliva leaks down her chin, dripping onto my balls. Her mouth is wet, and my dick is hard, and my balls tighten with every inch of me she swallows.

I loosen my hold on her head, and she pulls back. She sucks on my tip, her tongue wrapping itself around my crown.

My hand tightens, and I consider pushing her back down and releasing into her mouth, but I pull her off instead.

Her lips are bruised and swollen from running up and down my cock. The black line of her mascara is smudged beneath her eyes, and her cheeks are flushed red. She’s beautiful and dangerous and exquisite and all fucking mine.

“You’re going to sit in this chair and sling your legs over my shoulders so I can bury my face into your slippery cunt and make you come with my mouth.”

Her eyes flutter closed.

“And when you’ve screamed my name in a decibel I deem loud enough, I’ll pick you up, flip you over, and bury my cock so deep inside your pussy that you’ll be crying tears of pain and pleasure.”

My cock throbs in protest when I stand. She looks up at me through her lashes.

“Stand,” I tell her, holding my hand out to help her up.

Sliding her palm into mine, she pushes her body against me. Her lips press against the serrated B forever carved into my chest.

“I love you so much,” she whispers.

Hand wrapping itself around her jaw, I lift her face. “What’s wrong?”

She shakes her head. “I get so overwhelmed by what you make me feel sometimes that I think I’m living in a fantasy.”

I push my lips against hers. “We are living in a fantasy, dolcezza. We’re just lucky enough that it’s real fucking life. Now sit so I can hear you beg me to make you come.”

She moves to sit, but I pull her back. “I love you,” I tell her. “My world begins and ends with you.”

Leaning up, she presses her lips to mine in a chaste kiss.

I shun my torn shirt, discarding it on the chair behind me. She takes my seat as I tuck my dick back into my boxers, not trusting myself not to fuck her if I’m naked.

Kneeling before her, I caress the line of her calf muscles, gripping her behind her knees and lifting her legs. I move in closer, her knees securing themselves over my shoulders. My focus drifts to her exposed pussy. She glistens, her excitement coating her lips and daring me to taste.

“Vinnie,” she whispers. “Kiss my cunt.”

She does that to make me wild. She says that to fracture the very last tendrils of my willpower and possess me only the way she can. She forces me back to stolen nights in the cabin where she believed her secrets were hers and I’d take her life if I discovered the truth. Even held captive by her fears, she unraveled her hesitations and opened herself up to me. Completely. The night that she fell to her knees and offered me what I so desperately craved. Control.

Sliding my nose through her slit, I inhale her pleasure, letting my tongue follow the same path. Her dewy excitement explodes against my taste buds in a grenade of sweet and salty strokes. Her pussy is like silk under my tongue, and I tickle her clit, growling in appreciation at the way her hands rip at my hair, pulling me harder into her flesh. Her hips undulate, grinding against my face in a violent need to come. Using my thumbs, I separate her lips, circling my tongue over her clit.

She cries out.

I suck the tightened bud.

She bucks her hips on a groan.

I hum against her skin.

“Vinnie. I’m so close.”

Let me come.

It’s the words she doesn’t speak that twist my insides. Her silent pleas curled around the only words she can find in her oblivion.

“So good.”

I could spend my life like this. On my knees for my wife, worshiping her salacious needs and carving them more significantly into her character. This is who she is. Needy and open and unafraid of her pleasure. Her body longs to be stripped apart and venerated by the depth of my devotion. She’s insatiable in her expectations of love; commitment, passion, intimacy, and infatuation. Love for Bianca is unconditional. It’s all-encompassing. And all of it is mine to take.

When I slide a thick finger into her heat, her hips rise, and I push them back down.

“Yesss,” she breathes.

I retract my finger, pushing a second in alongside it, loving the way her mouth opens on a quiet cry. I love stretching her this way. Eyes fixed on the way her pussy swallows me. Her cunt is greedy; consuming any part of me I offer up. My fingers, my tongue, my cock.

Her G-spot is plump, thick with her desire, and I push against it. She lets go of a throaty whimper, and I want more of that sound.

Palm flat on her mound, I press down, the pressure of my fingers inside her heightening at the unexpected heaviness.

I tap my fingers against the lusty patch just inches inside her. Her hands grab at her tits. She pinches her nipples. She begs me for more.

Curling my fingers, I stroke her sweet spot.

“Like that,” she moans, the words dragging out on a heavenly moan.

As my fingers continue their assault, my tongue lingers against her clit, quick flicks to tease the bundle of nerves.

Her back arches, pushing her hips forward and her cunt powerfully into my face. My lips close around her clit, and I suck, gently at first, building as she throbs against my mouth. I increase the weight in my suction, and she comes apart, her body quaking and her cunt clamping down on my fingers.

Her orgasm is brutally restrained, every muscle inside her holding on to the tension coursing through her veins, afraid to let go of the feeling. She holds my face savagely against her pussy, grazing her sensitive flesh against my tongue in wide rolls of her hips while she rides out her orgasm. A scream latches itself to the sides of her throat, scratching along her vocal cords, abrading tightly into the air in a raspy ahhh.

Finally, her muscles uncoil, and her body falls back into the chair. Her hand releases the punishing grip on my hair in a sigh of contentment.

Smiling to herself, she runs her top teeth over her bottom lip. Her eyes open slowly.

“Such a pretty cunt to kiss,” I murmur, placing one final kiss on her clit.

Her thumb finds my lips, wiping across her release in affection and gratitude. “Such a pretty kiss to give.”

I stand, using the back of my hand to wipe my mouth. “Knees on the chair, little whore. Chest against the backrest.”

She moves languidly, her muscles heavy from her climax. Twisting in the seat, she climbs up, knees on the seat, ass pushed out, her arms stretched over the headrest.

“Always so eager to please. My good fucking girl,” I murmur, trailing my fingers over the divots of her spine.

Grasping a thick handful of her hips, I pull her back farther, and she yelps out. Using my right hand, I slide one of her knees as far as it will go, nudging it against the chair arm. Satisfied it can’t go farther, I move to her other leg, repeating the move until she’s spread out like an ultimate sacrifice.

She dips her back, pushing her ass toward me. Hand dipping into my pants, I grab my cock, squeezing it. I’m so hard I ache. My dick throbs, pleading with me for release. And I’m tempted. Tempted to stroke myself rough and fast and decorate her asshole and spine with what she chose to live without for the past week. But I know how it feels to blow ribbons of cum inside her. So I refrain. Pulling my dick from the confines of my boxers, I drag my palm up and down, enjoying the view of my wife spread out for me a little too much to put her out of her misery and fuck her.

“You gonna beg me, little whore?”

She growls, her forehead falling against the leather she’s pressed up against.

“Come on, baby. Tell me how much you want it, how much you need it, how you’ll die without the thick line of my cock stretching you open.”

A pained whimper muffles itself into the chair as she bites down, leaving teeth marks imprinted in the leather grain.

Pushing my cock between her ass cheeks, I let her globes swallow me, squeezing each luscious cheek and driving them together to make a snug channel to jerk myself.

“Feel that?” I tease. “That’ll slam inside you as soon as you ask nicely.”

“Please.” She turns her head, letting our gazes connect.

I thrust my hips back and forth, the kiss of her ass cheeks dancing across my dick and tightening the heavy pull of my balls.

Her eyes struggle to remain open, and her lips fall apart.

“Vinnie,” she whispers. “Please, baby.”

“Please what?”

Her top lip curls upward, her frustration growing.

“Fuck me. Let me feel you. Rip me open.”

Rip me open.

My lips open in a grin that spans the entirety of my face. “My pleasure, my sweet whore.”

I slide inside her in one swift thrust. Hard enough that she juts forward. Fisting the swell of her hips, I pull her back, lodging her onto my length harder still.

She screams out, the outcry a melody of thrill, bliss, and gluttony that echoes off the walls of the aircraft and bounces back in a plea for me to do it again.

And again.

And again.

“Vin-nie.”

I’m deep inside her, but I crave more of her. I hold complete access to the very depths of my wife’s soul, but I want her to consume me. I ache to feel her everywhere.

Nothing matters to me in this life except for moments like this. Unrivaled need pouring off each of us, a thirst never quenched. This is how it will always be. A hunger to delve deeper into her heart, firing the way I claim her, the way I love her.

Sliding my hand over her spine, the divots massage my fingertips. They long to push down. To bruise her skin and let me replay what we did here for the remainder of the trip. Turning her head, she watches me expectantly. No words drift between us, but a silent conversation passes in a storm of love and longing and possession.

Palm cupping the side of her neck, I edge it farther around, gripping her throat. Fingers stretching, I readjust my grip, curling my fingers back over the delicate line of her trachea. Her pulse beats thick and heavy against my hand, and I inhale deeply through my nostrils, consumed by how dainty she is against my strength.

I pull her up by her neck, and she comes easily, her back fitting itself to the firm line of my chest. Resting her head against my shoulder, I tighten my grip on her windpipe, and she coughs, choking at the immediate loss of air.

Her pussy throbs, and I continue to thrust inside her in slow and sharp movements.

“So frail. Completely at my mercy.”

Her throat bobs, an asphyxiated moan pulsing against my hand and forcing me to squeeze tighter.

Her entire body quakes. My lips find the line of her jaw. Tongue dipping out, I taste the fine gloss of sweat forming on her skin. Her face turns toward me, and she sucks my outstretched tongue into her eager mouth.

I grab her pussy with my free hand, knowing it’ll make her whimper and wanting to taste the breathless sound. She gives it over like I knew she would, and my eyes close over in ecstasy.

I let my fingers dance over her clit, rubbing wide circles over the tightened nub. All the while, my hips continue their movements. Thrusting forward and back, rolling to caress the inside her cunt and make her squirm. And writhe she does. Caught between her need to feel me deep inside her pussy and her want for me to tease her clit to bring stars to her eyes, she arches her hips, in, then out, crying out in frustration.

“You can have both.” I bite her bottom lip, sucking the plump cushion into my mouth.

Pushing up on my toes, I impale her on my length, pinching her clit between my index and middle finger.

Hand still tight on her neck, she struggles to scream. I loosen my grip.

“Vinnie,” she inhales. “Baby. I—”

“Come, dolcezza,” I grind out, barely holding off my own release. “Give it over.”

She screams loud enough to be heard in every pocket of the plane, and my lips spread into a wide grin.

“Vinnie,” she repeats, louder this time.

“Scream,” I whisper, biting down on her shoulder.

“Vinnie!” she howls my name, the syllables dripping with wanton pleasure and lust.

Her orgasm rips through her body, her hand reaching up to grip the back of my head to keep her upright. Her muscles twitch at random intervals, limbs shaking with the electrifying current of release.

Her pussy clamps down on my cock, squeezing. Hand flying back to her neck, I use my grip as leverage, yanking her onto my dick without finesse. Bianca’s body moves like that of a rag doll, lazy with gratification and pliable with indulgence.

“Fill me up.” She manages to speak.

Her choked-out words are all I need. My cock pulses, releasing thick ribbons of cum deep into her pussy, filling her up, just like she asked.

I stumble forward, a hand grabbing at the armrest of the chair to save me from falling.

“Fuck, Bianca.”

My head is filled with clouds. My vision is blurry, and my ears are ringing. I can’t recall a time I’ve ever come so hard.

I want to tell her I love her. I want to tell her that her body slays me like nothing else. But words fail me, so I settle for placing a soft kiss between her shoulder blades and holding it there.

“You’re incredible,” she whispers.

I pull my lips from her skin reluctantly. “It’s all you,” I tell her honestly. “Your body is so fucking receptive to everything I do. It dances and bends and cries for me. It wants to break under my touch, and I crave the way it shatters like nothing else, dolcezza.”

She twists, pulling my face down to her lips. Tongue forcing its way into my mouth, I take it greedily, the taste of her frenzy quickening the rhythm of my heart. I let her kiss me, gorging on her love and eager submission and gluttonous libido.

Bianca pulls from our kiss first, eyes taking a moment longer to open. She smiles at me. I place a gentle kiss on her forehead.

Forearm wrapped around her waist, I take her with me when I lean backward. Retrieving the ripped cotton of my dress shirt. Holding it beneath us, I drag my cock out of her heat slowly, eyes closing in satisfaction as I do. I keep it pressed against her pussy.

Her hand meets mine. “I got it.”

“Sit down.” I kiss her shoulder.

She does as instructed.

“Wait there.”

I’m back within seconds, a warm washcloth folded in my hand. Nudging her hand out of the way, I hold it against her used flesh.

She smiles down at me, and I smile back.

I clean her up, removing the excess mixture of our cum from her body, paying extra attention to her new tattoo.

“Do you like it?” she whispers.

I place a soft kiss against it, hating that I wipe it away almost immediately with the warmth of the washcloth. “Feeds my obsession.”

“Good,” she says.

I laugh quietly.

“I couldn’t handle it if you ever stopped being obsessed.”

“Most women would loathe a possessive man.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t believe that. But even if it is true, I’m not most women. You’re my obsession, Vincent. I’m deranged by how powerful it is. If you ever tried to leave me, I’d stalk you until you put me out of my misery or took me back.”

“You never have to worry about that, dolcezza. I was infatuated with you for years before you ever considered me an option.”

“But the reality of me…”

“In my fantasies, you were perfect, Bianca. In reality, you’re fucking ethereal and the only heaven I’ll ever be granted access to.”

Hands cupping my face, she pulls me upward, chasing my lips. “I love you.”

“What have I told you?” I murmur against her lips. “Il mio core è tuo.”

My heart is yours.

And has been for fucking years, I don’t add.

“Come.” I reach for her hand, pulling her up and moving her to the long couch on the plane. “Sleep.”

I grab the discarded silk robe from the floor, tucking myself back into my pants and securing them in place.

Sitting on the sofa, I beckon her to do the same. “Lie down, Bianca. We have hours before we land.”

Resting her head in my lap, she stretches her legs out. Covering her with her robe, I rest my hand underneath, securing itself to the swell of her hip.

“Will you sleep?” She yawns, and I grin. A few orgasms and she’s spent.

“I have some work to do.”

She grunts. “I thought we were on our honeymoon.”

“Why do you think I’m finalizing what I need to do now? Don’t worry, wife. You’ll have my full attention in Italy.”

She sits up. “Italy?”

Fuck.

“Fuck, I love you.” She pushes her lips against mine, lying back down. “I can’t wait to explore.”

All the ways I’m going to fuck her flash through my mind. “Me too, baby.”

She’s asleep within minutes, and I hit the closest call button for attendance.

The air hostess appears within seconds, ignoring my half-undress.

“Can I grab a whiskey on the rocks?”

“Please,” Bianca murmurs in her sleep.

“Please,” I add.

The flight attendant smirks. “Of course, sir.”

“Are you able to pass me my phone as well?” I gesture to the chair I fucked Bianca on moments prior.

“Please,” my wife mumbles again.

“Please.” I sigh.

Drink in hand, Bianca breathing heavily in my lap, face now relaxed in complete unconsciousness, I unlock my phone.

I send off emails and reply to text messages. I open a new message for the boss, closing out of it and calling instead.

“Landed yet?” Enzo greets into the line.

“Few more hours,” I reply. “Bianca’s asleep, so I thought I’d get some work done while she’s crashed.”

“I hear fucking on an airplane produces the best orgasms. Barely hours into your belated honeymoon, and you’ve already destroyed your wife.”

Wife.

The fucking elephant on a communications satellite. We haven’t spoken a word about it. It’s been weeks, and we’re both acting like nothing is amiss. Yet inside, a storm is brewing. My best friend just married my sister with no fucking forewarning. Anyone else, they’d already be dead.

“She has plenty of time to recover before we get to the good stuff.” I ignore my animosity.

But I don’t hide it well enough if the prolonged sigh that drags over the line is anything to go by. “Leo’s in Chicago.” Lorenzo finally speaks.

I sit up straighter, stroking Bianca’s side when she stirs. “What the fuck for?”

“He says he’s working.”

I frown. “On what? Bianchi’s just caught jail time. We don’t need his side thinking we’re planning something.”

“You don’t think I’ve fucking told him that?” he bites out, the slap of authority making me bite my tongue. “I’ve ordered the motherfucker back, but he’s ignoring me. He’s making me look weak. My own fucking brother.”

He’s not wrong, only I don’t know how we’re supposed to fucking handle it. Leonardo is an underboss. He knows fucking better than this. He’s also valuable and usually an asset.

Lorenzo clears his throat. “He and Gabriella had a huge fucking fight.”

“What?” My confusion settles itself in the word.

“He turned up after… after everything. It was messy. She told him she couldn’t trust him anymore or some shit. He bailed right after.”

I rub my jaw. “You’re the boss. Fix it.”

It’s not my problem, I don’t add.

“You’re my advisor.”

“Am I?” I ask.

“Vin.” He exhales heavily.

Quiet descends over the line, and holding my cell between my ear and shoulder, I pinch the bridge of my nose, wishing I’d brought my barbed wire with me to feel the bite of it in my palm.

I take a deep breath. “Your brother needs to keep his head down.” I give in, doing my job. “Tell him to visit Salvatore in lockup and offer our assistance. We need to reassure him that his and Caterina’s union is still a priority for us. Armando also needs to be made aware that his daughter is still moving to Chicago the moment she’s eighteen. She can remain under the guard of Bianchi’s men while he serves his time.”

“Good,” Lorenzo agrees. “And Vin—?”

I cut him off. “Make sure Leonardo knows that if he wants to run away like the little bitch he insists on being, he can do it our way. That is, if he fucks up again, he’s a dead man. You can’t look weak because of him, Lorenzo. You’ve worked too hard to prove the opposite.”

“Vin,” he calls again.

“I’ll speak to you when I’m home. This week is about Bianca. No one fucking else. You fuckers can wallow in the drama you’ve created for yourself.”

I hang up before he can speak again, knowing that if anyone else spoke to the boss the way I just did, their belt would kiss their face in a caress so violent they’d lose an eye.

“You okay?” Bianca sits up, moving her arms into the robe I had thrown over her to keep her modesty for the staff.

“I thought you were asleep.”

She shrugs. “I was dozing. I—”

“Dolcezza, I meant what I said. This week is about you.”

“About us,” she corrects.

I nod. “About us.”

Cupping my cheek, she looks into my eyes. “Okay,” she finally concedes, leaning forward to kiss me.

We kiss for a long while. Our lips never break contact as they push together, our tongues stroking in a tender caress.

“Do you want me to be a good little whore and crawl for you?” She speaks into my mouth. “Do you want me on my knees and begging for your cock?”

My dick hardens almost immediately, the word yes balancing on my tongue, but I refrain, needing something more.

“Just sit on my lap, dolcezza. That’s all I need right now. You. I just want to bury myself deep inside you and stay there with your lips on mine.”

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About the Author

A blonde. A brunette. A tea lover. A coffee addict. Two people. One pen name. Haley Jenner is made up of friends, H and J. They’re pals, besties if you will, maybe even soulmates. Consider them the ultimate in split personality, exactly the same, but completely different.

They reside on the Gold Coast in Australia’s sunshine state, Queensland. They lead ultra-busy lives as working mums, but wouldn’t want it any other way.

Books are a large part of their lives and they are firm believers that reading is an essential part of living. Escaping with a good story is one of their most favorite things, even to the detriment of sleep.

They love a good laugh, a strong, dominating alpha, but most importantly, know that friendships, the fierce ones, are the key to lifelong sanity and fulfillment.

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FIRST DAY OF FOREVER

HEIDI MCLAUGHLIN

CHAPTER ONE

LIAM

HARRISON IS SITTING at his drum set when I enter the studio. His headphones are on, and his head is bobbing to whatever beat plays in his ear. I think about slamming the door, but it’s unlikely he’ll notice. Instead, I toss the pad of paper onto his drum, getting his attention. He removes his headphones and taps his phone.

“What’s up?”

“I’m stuck.”

“On a lyric?” he asks.

I shake my head slowly. “My wedding is tomorrow, and my vows aren’t done,” I tell him. “Josie and I agreed we’d write our own vows because we have a lot to say to each other, but I’m stuck.” My hand goes to my hair, and I tug on the ends. I’m frustrated. “I write songs for a living. Songs about falling in love, and I’m fucking stuck on what to say to my girl. Ugh.” I turn toward the wall, thinking maybe it has the answer, even though I know it doesn’t.

“Let me look at what you have.”

I cackle. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

“I see that,” Harrison says. He sighs dramatically for emphasis. “So, let’s write some shit.”

“That’s just it. Everything I put down feels like shit. Josie deserves better. Hell, she deserves better than me.”

“Don’t say that. You deserve happiness, and Josie is your happiness. You just need to channel how you feel into words. You’ve done it before with ‘Wake-Up’ and ‘Painkillers’. If you can write songs about her, you can write down the words you want to say to her when she’s standing in front of you on your wedding day.”

“I’ve tried, man.”

“So, you’re what, just going to give up?” Harrison throws the pad of paper at me. I don’t bother to catch it and let it fall to the ground at my feet. “You sound like a child right now.”

“Don’t be mean. My soon-to-be wife has done hers and she’s gloating.”

“Don’t be a brat,” he fires back. “This isn’t the recording studio where if a lyric doesn’t work, we have a team to change it for us. This is your life. This is the opportunity you’ve waited for—to tell the woman you’ve loved for most of your life exactly what she means to you. And instead of writing down how important she is, you’re whining.”

“Yep, you’re officially mean, and I don’t like you right now.”

“Good,” he says. “Pick the pad up and let’s get to work. I’ll make you a romantic if it’s the last thing I have to do. At least one of us needs to be in love. Lord knows it’s not me, and there’s no way in hell JD is ever going to settle down. We need to live vicariously through you, so pull yourself together, soldier. We have vows to write.”

“She’ll come around.”

Harrison scoffs. “I’m not so sure. Would you want to be involved with someone who is at the mercy of paparazzi? Think about it. At any given time, some rag can post a picture, true or not, and completely ruin a relationship. Part of me doesn’t blame Katelyn for bailing. I probably would as well.” He grabs his phone and stands. “I never thought I’d find someone who makes me … well, think about the future. It’s always been Quinn and me, and now I want my life to be a family of five or more. But if I try to convince her to move on with me, I feel like I’m cheating her out of her own decisions.”

Harrison James, the drummer for my band, 4225 West, and his son Quinn moved to Beaumont a year ago after laying eyes on Katelyn Powell, single mom to twin daughters, and recent widow. Harrison’s in love with Katelyn, but she’s mourning the loss of her husband, Mason. The whole reason I ended up back in Beaumont. If I hadn’t read about his death, I would’ve never come back.

The third member of our band, Jimmy “JD” Davis currently travels between Beaumont and Los Angeles, while he waits for us to decide what we’re going to do. More so, while Harrison and I wait for JD to realize living in Beaumont has many, many benefits.

“Relationships are complicated.”

Harrison chuckles and slaps his hand down onto my shoulder. “Spoken like a groom who is struggling with his vows. Come on, let’s go to Ralph’s. I need a beer and you need a shot of whiskey or something.”

“Loose lips sink ships,” I tell him.

“Loose lips blab. The more you blab about Josie and how much you love her, the more your vows will come together. Now, let’s go before I change my mind and make you do these by yourself.”

We ride our motorcycles over to Ralph’s. The place is fairly empty, and we find seats at the bar. Harrison motions to Ralph and he comes over and takes our order. Well, Harrison’s. He orders for me and tells Ralph to keep the whiskey coming.

“Getting me drunk is only going to make me say stupid shit.”

“I never said you were getting drunk. Loose lips, remember?”

“Sure.” I sigh heavily. Harrison pushes the pad of paper toward me and sets a pen down. I stare at the blank page. “How long do they have to be?”

“Why in the hell are you asking me? Do you think I’ve done this shit before?”

I shrug. “Just thought …”

“I’m sure a paragraph is sufficient. Hell, I’m sure you could say something like ‘I love you, let’s bone forever’ and call it good. Josie may not appreciate that though, especially with her parents being there and you breaking her heart years ago. But if that’s what you fancy, do it.”

“Fancy? Who are you, JD?”

Harrison shrugs. He thanks Ralph for our drinks and motions for me to down my whiskey. I think I hate Harrison right now, but of my two friends, he’s the only one I trust when it comes to matters of the heart. JD would write exactly what Harrison said, “let’s bone” and call it good.

“Fuck it.” I pick up the glass with a one finger shot and down the liquid. “Damn, that burns.”

“You could’ve just sipped.” Harrison takes a drink from his beer.

“You said shot.”

He shrugs. “I say a lot of shit, but people rarely listen. Come on, let’s get this done. I have plans with Quinn and Noah later.”

“What are you doing with my son?”

Harrison gives me the side eye. “Have I ever asked you what you’re doing with my son?”

“No, but—”

“No, buts, Page. I trust you with my kid. Trust me with yours. Wait, is Josie taking Page as her last name or Westbury?”

“I do trust you, and she’s taking Westbury. Page is nothing more than a stage name now that she’s back in my life,” I tell him.

“Good, now write. Start by putting her name down.”

I do as he says, and then stare. Fuck, I’m going to need more booze because now all I can think about is writing, “I love you, let’s bone.”

CHAPTER TWO

JOSIE

AS SOON AS I step into Whimsicality, I curse under my breath. I’d hoped one of the high school kids would be behind the counter, and not Katelyn. I’m supposed to be home, relaxing. But she doesn’t understand that home is where Liam is and if Liam is there, the only thing I want to do is hump his brains out, and while that’s technically relaxing, he’s really stressed about something. He assures me it’s work related and has nothing to do with our wedding tomorrow. Still, I worry. What if he has cold feet?

Katelyn glares at me. She sets down whatever was in her hand and crosses her arms over her chest. “What are you doing here?”

“I want coffee before I go to my appointment.”

“What appointment?” she asks. “I know your schedule by heart, and we’ve had our spa day. Your nails and toes are done. And you’ve had your wax …” she smirks. The esthetician asked if I wanted a design, something special for Liam. I jokingly asked if she could wax an L and she said yes. Panic rose and I told her no, just normal. When I was done, I was so embarrassed I had to tell Katelyn. She doesn’t believe I didn’t go with an L.

Katelyn takes her matron of honor duties very seriously.

“I called Liesel, and she had an opening.”

“For what?”

I play with the hem of my shirt and try not to make eye contact. “I’m going to cut my hair.”

Katelyn’s eyes widen. “The hell you are. It took us months to find the right style for your veil and dress. Months, Josie! You’re not cutting your hair. I won’t allow it.”

“It’s my hair.”

“No, it’s not. It’s mine,” she spits out. “So, help me, God, Josephine Preston. If you put scissors anywhere near your hair, I won’t show up tomorrow and neither will my girls. And I’ll tell Jenna to stay home as well. You’ll have no one. Oh …” She points at me. “Worse, I’ll shave your head. I’ll march across the street to the salon and shave your head. I won’t even make it a clean shave. Something tells me Liam won’t be impressed.”

Katelyn comes around the counter and stands in front of me. She places her hands on my shoulders and gives me a little shake. “Tell me what’s really going on. You’re supposed to be at home, sitting with your feet up. Packing for your honeymoon. Doing the nasty with Liam. Why do you want to cut your beautiful hair?”

“I’m bored.”

“You’re bored?”

I nod.

“You’re bored the day before you’re set to marry the love of your life, and you think the answer is to cut your hair?”

I shrug.

“How about we go to the mall and go shopping? Certainly, shopping can cure boredom.”

“Oh, there is a store I want to check out. It’s in Allenville.”

“What store?”

“Escape.”

“The …” Katelyn sighs. “The porn store that just opened up?”

I bite my lower lip and nod.

“What on earth do you need from there?” She shakes her head and puts her hand up. “No, don’t. I don’t want to know.”

“Crotchless and edible panties.”

“Stop. I don’t want to hear about this stuff. Lalalalala.” Katelyn plugs her ears. As soon as she pulls her fingers out, I continue.

“So, we can go?”

She shakes her head but goes behind the counter and into the kitchen. I wait a couple of minutes for her to return. When she does, her purse is in her hand. “I’m driving.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t trust you.”

“Are we going to stop at the store?”

Katelyn says nothing as she walks to her car. I follow behind, wondering if I should poke the bear anymore. It’s true, I’m bored and thought cutting my hair would be a good thing to do today. She’s also right—it’s not. However, my true intention is to help her open her eyes about Harrison. I fear she’s making a mistake and doesn’t realize it. She will, though, once he’s gone, and I don’t want that for her.

My best friend drives us to Allenville in silence. When we drive by the museum, her breathing catches. I reach across the console. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize the store and the museum were near each other.”

“It’s fine.”

Except it isn’t. The enormous banner with Mason’s picture still hangs for everyone to see. Looking at it, I get teary-eyed. I miss him so much, but know if he hadn’t died, Liam wouldn’t have come back. It’s hard to quantify my happiness against my best friend’s suffering. While she lost her husband, I’m gaining mine. Sometimes I feel like Mason planned this so my son, Noah, could have his dad. I know it seems silly, but I can’t help but think about Mason’s death this way.

Katelyn pulls into the new store and sighs. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

I elbow her. “You can stay in the car.”

She shakes her head and opens her door. “Nope.”

Once we’re both outside, I say, “Maybe you can find something for you and Harrison.”

“There is no me and Harrison.”

“Sure, whatever you say. I know you enjoyed having sex on the motorcycle. Which, I have to admit, isn’t easy.”

“You tried it?” she asks.

“Yep, last night. Liam was more than eager to test things out. Thank God he’s tall because I don’t know how else we would’ve done it, unless I bent over the seat, but I can’t see how that qualifies as motorcycle sex. That is just using the bike as a prop.”

Katelyn shakes her head. “Sometimes I wonder why we are friends.”

I scoff. “Oh, okay. Don’t forget about you and Mason in the shed.”

“And his truck. Front and back,” she pauses. “I need to lock the girls up. If they’re anything like me … nope, not even thinking about it. Come on, let’s go get your strawberry flavored underwear.”

“And crotchless panties.”

“Right, can’t forget those.”

CHAPTER THREE

LIAM

NOAH COMES INTO MY BEDROOM, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. I give him a questioning look. He says nothing as he goes into the walk-in closet I share with Josie. When he returns, the black bag holding his tuxedo dangles from his fingers. I had no idea his tux was even in there. The last time I saw it, I hung it in his closet.

“What’s up, bud?”

“I thought we could get ready together. Unless you need time alone.”

“Noah, I’d be honored to get ready with you.”

His smile beams.

Every day I wake up and wonder if this is real life or if I’m stuck in some time warp. I have a son. An eleven-year-old whose life I missed. I have years of groveling to do to make up for being absent. Whether I knew about him or not, I should’ve taken Josie with me to California and started a life with her. I never gave her a chance to accept me for me, and not the version my father insisted on.

The doorbell rings and Noah announces he’s going to get it. He races out of my bedroom and is halfway down the stairs when I get to the hallway. As soon as the door opens, I smell her perfume. My steps are quick as I go down the stairs, wondering why she’s here.

“Bianca.” I use her name instead of “mother” or “mom” when I enter the foyer. I stand next to my son and hold the door with my hand, ready to slam it shut at a moment’s notice. “What are you doing here?” She’s dressed to the nines and looks sober. It’s been almost six years, but I still keep expecting her to fall off the wagon.

She inhales deeply and then meets my gaze. “I thought …” she pauses and smiles at Noah. “Well, I wondered if you and Noah needed help.”

“With what?” I ask, playing stupid. I’m sure she’s heard about mine and Josie’s wedding, but there is no way in hell she or Sterling received an invitation. In fact, if I get to the church and find them there, I’ll have security escort them out. That’s the fun part about being Liam Page—whatever I say, my team does, it doesn’t matter who you are. I won’t stand for anything getting in the way of Josie’s happiness. I don’t want either of them there.

Bianca looks off to the side with a pensive look. I have a feeling she’s trying to remember something. “I thought today was your wedding day.”

“Still is,” I say.

“Liam …” she pauses. “I know I have no right to be here or to even ask this of you, but would you mind if I helped you and Noah get ready?”

I glance at Noah. He shrugs. He’d never say no, either way. He’s only known her for a short time, and I have to give Bianca credit, she’s trying with him. She’s shown up when he’s invited her to things. She doesn’t sit with us, and keeps to herself, but she’s there and I notice.

I hold the door open wider and she steps in.

“Grandma, would you like me to take your coat?”

“Always a polite young man.” Noah helps my mom out of her coat and hangs it up for her. When he turns around, she’s holding an envelope. “I know Christmas was a couple of days ago and I wasn’t here, but I wanted you to have this. And this is for you and Josephine.”

“Thanks, Grandma.” Noah tears into his envelope and his eyes light up at the piece of paper in his hand. “Cool.”

“What is it, bud?” I step forward and look at what he’s holding. I blink a few times making sure I’m seeing straight.

“Mother,” I say pointedly. “What’s this for?” Noah holds a statement saying he has eleven thousand dollars in a trust fund.

“College tuition,” she says and holds up her hand before I can balk. “I know you don’t need it, but it’s there and will mature. It’s the very least I could do for him. Because of me, you missed so much.”

“You don’t need to buy him,” I tell her.

“I know,” she says quietly and motions for me to open my box. I do and find a pair of cufflinks. “Those were my father’s. You deserve to have them. He would’ve wanted you to have them.”

I go to her and hug her for the first time in what feels like twenty years. “Thank you.”

As soon as I let her go, she ducks her head to wipe away her tears. “Okay, Westbury men, there is a church full of people waiting. Let’s get you both dressed and out the door. I think the bride has waited long enough.”

After Noah and I dress, I help him with his bowtie and put my grandfather’s cufflinks through his shirt’s cuffs. As much as I’d love to wear them, I had custom ones made. Each one reads, “Jo.”

“Mom is going to think you’re so handsome.”

“That’s the goal, bud.” I take one last look in the mirror and head downstairs. I know my mom wanted to help, but honestly, there isn’t much she could do for us except pin on our boutonnieres.

When Noah and I get downstairs, JD, Harrison, and Quinn are in the living room. My mom is tying JD’s bowtie. I look at him oddly because I know he knows how to tie one. We’ve been to enough black-tie events that we’ve mastered it.

“Grandma, look.” Noah shows my mom his cufflinks.

“I’d love to wear them, but I had some made specifically for today,” I tell my mom when she looks from Noah’s wrist to mine.

“Your great-grandfather would be so happy to see you wear these,” my mother says without missing a beat. “Come on, let me pin your rose to your lapel.”

“My mom made this,” Noah tells Bianca.

“She’s a brilliant florist.” She pins the flower onto Noah’s tux and then does the same to mine. “You and Noah look so handsome.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t get an invite.”

Bianca shakes her head. “I didn’t earn one, Liam. Your bride has every right to keep me away from her big day. I hold nothing against her.” She fixes my lapel and offers me a smile. I can tell she’s sad though.

“Harrison, can you take some pictures of me with my mom?” This changes her demeanor, and she lights up. Harrison takes photos of us, along with Noah, and some of Noah and his grandma. Harrison shows them to Bianca, and she has him email them to her.

A horn honks and we usher outside. The stretch limo waits for us. The driver holds the door open while Harrison, Quinn, and JD climb inside. Noah hugs my mom, and I do as well, thanking her for the gifts.

“Go,” she says, giving me a little push. “Don’t keep that girl waiting any longer.”

THE LIMO DROPS us off in front of the church. Guests haven’t started to arrive, which is fine with me, but there are fans on the road with signs. Our security detail surrounds us instantly when someone yells my name, and then Harrison’s, and then JD’s. Of course, he’s the one to wave.

“Mr. Page, it seems people found out about your nuptials today.”

“No worries,” I tell the guard. “Just keep them outside. If they don’t have an invite, they’re not allowed in. I don’t care if they say they left it at home. Everyone on the guest list has strict instructions.”

“Yes, boss.”

The five of us start to make our way up the stairs and the pastor greets us. It takes me a moment to catch my bearings after I step into the vestibule. The last time I was here, it was to walk my best friend down the aisle and to his final resting place. He should’ve been here for this. Harrison and I head to the room where we wait, while the boys and JD usher guests to their seats. I told JD the boys could do it, but he said he wanted to walk women down the aisle because he’s never getting married, and this will be his only chance to pretend.

Inside the room, the ring bearer pillow sits there, with our rings tied together by a ribbon. We had them engraved with the date, not that I’ll ever need a reminder.

“Are you ready?” Harrison asks.

I nod and pat my chest. “My vows are right here. Just in case.”

“You can remember thousands of songs, but not your vows?”

“If you were as in love with Josie, as I am, you’d forget your damn name. This woman makes me weak in the best way, and I know that as soon as I see her, I won’t be able to say a coherent word.”

“Yeah, I hear ya there,” he says with a sigh. I know he’s in love with Katelyn, and in all the years I’ve known him, he’s never been this heartbroken over someone. I wish I could fix things for him. For her. For them. Josie’s tried to help Katelyn see things differently, but that woman is headstrong and trying to protect her heart. I get it. I know what it’s like to live with a broken heart. I did it for ten years.

The door opens and JD walks in. He has a shit-eating grin on his face, and I can only imagine he’s managed to score numbers off Josie’s cousins. I suppose it’s my duty as their in-law to warn them about JD, but then again, he’s pretty damn famous for being a cad.

“It’s time,” he says.

“Really? I feel like we just got here.”

“The church is full, the doors are closed, and the boys and I have made sure everyone is in their seats. It’s now or never.”

“All right then. Let’s do this.”

Harrison opens the door that leads to the church. JD’s right. One quick glance tells me people have packed the pews. Funnily enough, I don’t remember sending out so many invites.

I stand on the top step, adjust my jacket, and focus on the double doors at the end of the aisle. It’s different, being in this church for a joyous occasion and seeing it full of flowers, ribbons, and happiness. Any tears shed today will be joyful ones.

The music starts, and while I know the melody, for the life of me I can’t place the song or the musician. It’s like I have tunnel vision, waiting for those doors to open.

My life is behind those doors.

My son.

My Josie.

My Jojo.

My girl.

They finally open and Noah walks toward me. We practiced the wedding march, but let’s be honest, when you practice there aren’t hundreds of people staring at you, commenting on how adorable you are and trying to take your picture. Noah’s steps are a little too fast, but the kid shines like the future rockstar he is. He poses for pictures without missing a beat. I can hear Quinn giggle, which tells me Noah planned this. I shake my head, but can’t help smiling at my boy, entertaining the crowd. Noah gives me a high five when he reaches the altar. All I can do is grin.

Coming down the aisle now are the twins. They take each step with the most serious expression on their faces. They drop handfuls of rose petals onto the aisle and don’t make eye contact with the guests. When they reach us, Peyton and Elle stand next to Noah and Quinn.

Jenna walks down the aisle next and ushers the twins over to where she stands. Katelyn comes next and it makes me wonder what Mason thought when he saw his bride for the first time, walking toward him. Katelyn’s gaze locks onto Harrison’s and she somehow makes it to the altar without missing a beat. I chuckle and mutter that they both have it bad for each other.

The music changes and everyone stands. Despite it being December, I’m sweating. I see Mr. Preston first and my heart begins to race. As soon as Josie comes around the corner and appears in the open doorway, everything in my life starts to make sense.

Each step my girl takes toward me brings a new wave of emotion for me. I am who I am because of her. When she gets to the stairs, I step down and wait for the pastor to start.

“Welcome,” the pastor says. “Today, we gather to witness the union of Liam Westbury and Josephine Preston. Who gives this woman to this man in matrimony?”

Mr. Preston clears his throat. “Her mother and I do.” He sets Josie’s hand into mine and I mouth “thank you” to him. I know this isn’t easy for him, but he’s doing what his daughter has asked of him. If I were him, I would’ve kicked my ass.

“God, you’re fucking gorgeous,” I tell her as I lean back and really look at her dress. I don’t know shit about fashion, but this is the most beautiful dress I have ever seen.

“I’d really like to skip to the good part,” she says as she looks me up and down.

“Is a tux your thing?” I ask, waggling my eyebrows at her.

“You’re my thing, Page.”

Check please!

The pastor motions for us to come up the stairs. Katelyn’s behind Josie, fixing her veil and making sure her dress is perfect. I glance at Harrison, turn slightly and whisper, “How’s my ass?”

He shakes his head and mutters something unintelligible.

The pastor begins talking to the guests about love, life, and finding someone who makes you happy. Josie and I look into each other’s eyes the entire time he talks. It may be rude not to look at him, but there’s no way I’m taking my eyes off my girl. Not today. Not ever.

“Liam and Josephine have chosen to write their own vows. Liam, please recite your vows to Josie.”

I roll my neck and shake my shoulders. The guests laugh and I need it. I need the room to be chill and not so stoic. They need humor.

“You’d think because I’m a musician this would be easy, but let me tell you, finding the words to say to this woman is very difficult.”

I clear my throat and look into Josie’s eyes. “Josie, in your eyes, I have found my only home. In your heart, I have found my only love. In your soul, I have found my only mate.

“Josie, with you, I am whole, full, and alive. You make me laugh. You allow me to cry. You’re my every breath and every heartbeat. I am nothing if you’re not mine as I am yours.”

Josie and I both have tears in our eyes. I lean forward and whisper. “Please don’t cry, my girl. I meant every single word. I love you.”

“I love you,” she says quietly.

The pastor nods for her to recite her vows. She takes a deep breath and readies herself. “Liam, I promise to encourage your individuality, because that’s what makes you unique and wonderful. That’s what makes you mine.

“I promise to nurture your dreams, because without them, we wouldn’t be standing here today.

“I promise to always be your best friend, your lover, your wife, and most importantly, your partner.

“I promise to share with you the joys of life, because with you, they’ll be that much sweeter.

“Liam, lastly I promise to you perfect love and perfect trust, because tomorrow will never be enough.”

I am speechless and let the tears flow from my eyes. Only after the pastor asks for our rings, do I wipe the tears away. Noah hands Josie and I our bands and I give my son a fist bump. We do the whole “I do” thing and finally get to one of the good parts.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. Liam, you may kiss your bride.”

CHAPTER FOUR

JOSIE

JENNA OPENS the door and I spot my dad. He’s standing in the hallway, tugging at his jacket. When he married my mom, he didn’t wear a tuxedo. This is the first time, and I can tell how uncomfortable he is. Katelyn kisses my dad on his cheek and sets my bouquet on the table. She knows I need a moment with him. I step to him and his eyes glisten.

“You’re beautiful, Josephine.”

“Thanks, Dad. Here, let me fix your bowtie for you.” I straighten his bowtie and make sure it’s centered. I brush my hands over his shoulders and then fix the lapel of his jacket even though there isn’t anything wrong with it.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

I nod. I am. I wasn’t until Jenna opened the door and I saw my dad. I know I’m making the right decision.

“Are you?” I ask him.

He scoffs. “As much as I don’t want to admit it, I like the boy. I mean, man. He stepped up as soon as he learned about Noah and did what he needed to do to show you how much he loves you. I wanted to kill him, though, when I saw him back in Beaumont.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Me too, sweetheart. Me, too. Come on, you have a groom waiting for you.”

I take my dad’s offered arm and pick up my bouquet. As soon as the music changes, we start our walk. We turn the corner and that’s when I see the man I love with my whole being.

Liam.

I start to walk faster, but my dad holds my arm steady. “He’s not going anywhere, sweetie. He’s waiting for you.”

“I love him, Daddy.”

“I know you do. Let’s just walk. Let Liam take you all in. Men live for this moment.”

“How do you know?”

“Your mom reads Cosmo.”

I chuckle lightly and thank him. He’s keeping me calm and in check. If I didn’t have him next to me right now, I would’ve bulldozed my wedding party out of the way in order to get to my groom.

We reach the altar and Liam steps down and meets my father’s gaze. I think, years ago, there would’ve been a time that they’d be best friends, but now their relationship is a work in progress. My dad understands why Liam did what he did, but he’ll never get over Liam missing out on Noah’s life and not being there when his son was born. Neither will Liam.

The pastor talks, but I’m focused on my handsome groom. I’ve seen him in a tuxedo before, but this one … the one he’s wearing, he chose it specifically for me. It’s not for some gala, fundraiser, or walk down the red carpet.

Liam finally takes my hand and says, “God, you’re fucking gorgeous.”

“I’d really like to skip to the good part,” I tell him as I look him up and down. I have no shame. I’m checking out my man.

“Is a tux your thing?”

“You’re my thing, Page.”

Liam’s eyes turn serious. I know I have unleashed the beast inside and I welcome it. I want to undress him slowly until he can’t stand it anymore and growls. I want him to take me, mark me as his, and make me his forever.

He’s all I ever wanted.

And I finally have him.

When Liam recites his vows to me, it takes everything in me to not buckle at my knees and sob. He’s been my everything for as long as I can remember, but it took the death of our best friend for him to realize I was his everything, and he could have his rocker life and his family, and still be happy.

“Please don’t cry, my girl. I meant every single word. I love you.”

“I love you,” I say quietly.

I recite my vows. Pouring years of love and heartache into this moment. His expression morphs from happiness to sadness, to remorse, to full on love. I tell him that no matter what, I’ll be his rock. His foundation. I’ll be by his side, no matter what hills lie before us.

We exchange rings and the pastor tells Liam he can kiss his bride. Everyone around us whistles and Liam takes me in his arms, presses his lips to mine and dips us. When he rights us, he takes our hands and raises them in the air.

This time, I rush down the aisle and take Liam to the bridal room. Once inside, I lock the door and pull him into my arms. “I love you, Liam Westbury.”

“I love you more, Josephine Westbury.”

Now, when he says my name, I know he’s not going anywhere. This is us, together for the rest of our lives. Our first day of forever.

“Hey, Mr. Page. I’m not wearing any panties.”

“Thank fuck,” Liam growls.

About the Author

Heidi McLaughlin is a New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of The Beaumont Series, The Boys of Summer, and The Archers.

In 2012, Heidi turned her passion for reading into a full-fledged literary career, writing over twenty novels, including the acclaimed Forever My Girl. Heidi’s first novel, Forever My Girl, has been adapted into a motion picture with LD Entertainment and Roadside Attractions, starring Alex Roe and Jessica Rothe, and opened in theaters on January 19, 2018.

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BODY WORK

HOLLY MORTIMER

CHAPTER ONE

“YES, Mark. Fine. I can have a look at his sister’s car. I mean, it’s not like I don’t have ten other cars to get to today, I’d be happy to drop everything and help your best friend out.”

“Navy, he just called me in a panic, okay. I’m sorry. He’s stuck at his parent’s house, his sister’s car is a piece of garbage, and he needs to be able to get back to the city tonight. I told him you’d do me this favor.”

My brother, Mark, was the worst for sending his friends to my garage and promising them a “friend discount.” But this friend was different. This friend was Leo Langdon. My teenage crush. The guy that I’d lusted after most of my teens and early twenties and if I was being honest with myself, occasionally in my thirties. This was the guy I had let creep into my brain while in bed with my ex-husband every once in a while. Reg flag number six hundred and twenty-two with Lex the Ex.

But Leo was also the one guy I could never hit on. My brother’s best friend had always been off-limits.

When I was a teen, it was because my brother had always said Leo was a player and he was protecting me from him. And over the years, when I asked about him, he said to forget about my crush on him, because he hadn’t changed. Mark also said he’d made sure Leo knew I was a hands-off situation, and that if he ever caught us together, he’d have his balls.

My brother was a dramatic moron.

But still, I didn’t need the hassle, so I’d kept well away from his best friend. Men were idiots. That was the only explanation I could feasibly come up with at this point as to why my brother had issues with me getting together with his friends, but I didn’t care anymore. He and the rest of the male species could all fuck off. Now that I was divorced, I had found that I actually preferred Vicky the Vibrator to men these days..

“Fine,” I said, anxious to just get off the phone and back to work. “When the tow truck brings in his car, I’ll have a look at it. But that’s about all I have time for today. Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll let him know. By Naves. Love ya.”

Before I could return the sentiment, he’d disconnected and moved on with his day, as per usual, so I took his lead and got back to fixing the cars that never gave me half the attitude my family did.

Later that day, I’d just popped the hood of the SUV I was about to work on when I heard a horn signal the arrival of the tow truck and cursed Monday’s all over again. I assumed it was Leo’s sister’s heap of a car, but I knew I’d need to pause what I was working on and go check it out.

I needed to hire someone to help, pronto, but finding another female mechanic was hard enough, let alone one willing to move to Princeton, population five hundred and five when it was farming season and four hundred the rest of the year.

Slamming the hood back down, I stuffed my hot pink wrench—custom painted by me to deter tool thieves—in my back pocket and went to meet Randy, the tow truck driver who thought women belonged in the kitchen and/or on their knees in front of him. He was a pure delight to work with.

“What do we have, Randy?” I asked him, ignoring the eyeroll he was giving me.

I put up with a ton of sexist bullshit in this business. It was why I only hired women for my garage. Admittedly, my business wasn’t huge, but our mission was to put all car owners at ease while working through a potentially expensive and stressful problem. I had found that male-owned garages felt a lot more intimidating to women than female-owned garages and ever since I’d opened, I’d been enjoying a steady revenue growth pattern. Women came from neighboring towns and cities because we made them feel welcome and valued.

So, I could deal with small dick Randy. I’d seen his dick. It was small. And no, I’m not going to elaborate on how I’d come to be in the wrong place at the wrong time for that knowledge. That was a short story I needed to forget, pun totally intended.

“Piece of shit Jetta. Had a call this morning to go pick it up and take it to you, but I was busy, so it took me a while.”

How magnanimous of him. “Anything else? Like who it belongs to, what’s wrong with it?”

“I got the name but not what happened. Figured you knew about it so didn’t bother getting anything other than payment and where they wanted it towed. The tow was paid for by a guy named Leo.”

And with that, he walked away from me and began to offload the car. The Jetta had seen better days, but it would get the same treatment from me as the fanciest of cars. Better, in fact. In my experience people that drove beat-up older cars did so for a reason. It was what they could afford, and I respected that, no matter how shitty the car was. I guess I’d have to wait to see if the owner showed up. I didn’t have time to go chasing them unless the car was still here tomorrow when my schedule eased up.

“Great doing business with you,” I mumbled to Randy and walked back into the garage’s offices to let my administrator work on the paperwork and deal with Randy.

“What’d Randy bring in?” Flo asked. She was literally the best office manager I could have ever hoped for. Took all the bullshit off of my hands and either handled it herself or distributed it elsewhere. She was the main reason people loved it at Trager’s. It certainly wasn’t my incredible ability to small talk. And frankly, I had zero interest in small talk so I happily left it to Flo.

“Well, it looks like a Jetta, but the jury’s still out. It belongs to a friend of my brother. I think we can just wait until he shows his pretty face around here to check in with us. Oh, and Randy will want to get the paperwork done. Since he and I rarely enjoy each other’s company, I figured you could help him out?” I trailed off, looking at her sweetly with my eyes bugged out.

“On it. You let me handle Randy and you get back to doing what you do best.”

“Thanks, Flo. You’re incredible, as always.”

“I’m aware,” she said as she dismissed me and got out the paperwork she’d need to record the car and the tow.

I spent the rest of the day moving through the services that were waiting for me, too busy to pay attention to the time or anything happening around me, until I heard Flo talking very loudly to someone in the reception area. I poked my head out from under a hood to make sure she wasn’t being harassed by some douche canoe and had an immediate heart attack. Or what felt like one anyway.

The man currently being berated by Flo was none other than my brother’s best friend, Leo Langdon. Also known around my bedroom as Leo the Lion because I’d imagined myself wrapped up in his arms most nights, with him ferociously taking care of my business. He hadn’t known this of course, until one fateful day that I’d thought it was time for him to man up and get with me. I knew that if my brother had ever found out that I lusted after his best friend, I would have never lived through the pain and humiliation he would have delivered, but I was done caring. He and I were meant to be together, I had just known it.

Even though I’d known he was most likely going to show up at the shop, when I saw them both turn to look at me, I panicked and performed a technique that I’d mastered years ago. It was the stop, drop and roll maneuver, but not like the fire safety version. The rolling was done by the low platform on wheels that I used to get under a car when it wasn’t up on the hoist and I needed to not be seen by a client.

I scrambled onto the rolling cart and shoved myself under the car, not caring that the problem I was fixing was up top or that I’d forgotten to bring any tools with me in my hasty getaway.

“You can’t go in there. We’re not insured for normies in the bays,” I heard Flo yell at him.

“Normies?” His voice. That fucking voice that both haunted and fueled my dreams.

“Yeah, normal people. That aren’t employees here. Normies.” Flo had coined that name and it had stuck. I had a bad habit of calling most people who didn’t know me normies now. I needed to reel that in.

“It’s okay. Navy and I go way back.”

Oh shit, shit, shit. He had breached the defenses. Well, the single defense. I did not want to talk to him. The last time I’d seen him, I had thrown all of my cards on the table with dismal results.

He’d stood there while I’d professed my love at the tender age of sixteen and he was nineteen. Me, bravely surging forward, not caring about the horrified look on his face. My heart had broken into a million pieces and he had stomped all over every single one of them with his rejection.

“Navy? I know you’re in here. I swear I just saw you a second ago.” His voice was so deep. Like, almost scary deep, but it was the kind of deep voice that sent shivers of pleasure rocketing up and down my body. It looked like time didn’t matter when it came to my reaction to him. I could sense his nearness with that reaction to his voice alone.

“Um, sir?” I could hear Flo’s unsensible heels following him at a quicker pace than she was used to, and it almost made me laugh out loud and give myself away. And yes, I was aware of how ridiculous it was that I was still pretending he didn’t know where I was.

“It’s Leo.” They were close enough I could hear Flo’s quick intake of breath. Leo had a presence that most females responded to without him even talking, but when he did talk, it was with the smallest amount of words needed, delivered with the highest amount of impact. His simple delivery of his name had me squeezing my legs together in an effort to keep my body from hyperventilating and my core from spontaneously climaxing.

I turned my head to the left and a pair of shoes stopped directly in line with my head under the car. Fuck. He had made me.

I stared as suddenly his feet were replaced with his long, broad body, lying on my garage floor. What the hell was he doing? He’d ruin his clothes, the big idiot.

“Navy.”

I was looking directly into the eyes of the man I’d unsuccessfully spent the past twenty years trying to forget.

“Leo.” My voice was barely a whisper. He’d changed. His eyes were framed by laugh lines and strong, full eyebrows and his face was tanned and had some casual stubble that I knew was by design, not just a lack of grooming. “What are you doing here?”

“I need my sister’s car fixed.”

“No, on the floor. You’ve probably destroyed your shirt with grease.”

You’ve probably destroyed your shirt? That’s the best I could do? I scared the men around here. I was hell on wheels and took no shit. I wasn’t afraid of anything or anyone. But this man had reduced me to mush and I didn’t know how to pull myself out of it.

“Well, you were hiding from me. So, I’m down here now.”

“I wasn’t hiding,” I said, feeling my voice come back to life.

“Were too.”

“Was–” Fuck, right back to where we started when we were teenagers. A battle of words and wills. I gave up and swung my board out from under the car, hoping I didn’t look like a complete mess, as per the norm. I never put much effort into what I was looking like on a day to day basis. Why should I? I just threw on coveralls and pulled my hair back most days. Makeup only got covered up by sweat and grease. It was completely pointless.

Moving like a graceful tiger, he swung himself up to face me with a slight smile on his face. “Navy, what the fuck? Why were you hiding?”

I looked over at Flo, who hadn’t said a word since Leo had lain down, and silently begged her not to leave me alone with him, but apparently it was my day to fail at everything, including telepathy, as she smiled brightly at me and turned to Leo. “I think I hear my phone. I’ll just leave you two to figure things out now.” She turned and hustled in her heels back into reception, committing to her story by picking up her phone and pretending dramatically to talk into it.

I scratched my neck and looked anywhere but at Leo as my brain tried to come up with something intelligent to say. A swing and a miss on that one. “I wasn’t hiding.” Oh, Navy, well done, well done. He won’t think you’re at all as awkward as when you were fifteen and totally crushing on him.

He crossed his massive arms over his chest and stared at me with a disbelieving look. “Sure. You weren’t hiding. So, that’s my sister’s car out there. Can you have a look at it? Mark said you’d be cool with it.”

Well, that snapped me out of it. “I heard. Look, I’m really busy. It’s a Monday, the weather was great this weekend, and a lot of people appear to have been out and about with car trouble. I’m not sure I can get to it today. It’s nearly three now, and I’ve still got three cars I’ve promised to customers who actually picked up a phone and made appointments.”

He re-crossed his glorious arms across his chest and I mentally recited the reasons why restraining myself from climbing him like a tree was a bad idea.

Big brother is a pain in the ass and Leo is a player.

There, that was better. No embarrassing climbing of bodies.

“Look,” his face softened and he pulled the corner of his lip into his mouth. “I know this is a huge pain and I’m really sorry. I don’t have a car, but my mom and dad needed help with something. I’m in-between jobs, so I borrowed Nora’s car, if you can call it that, and came out to help them. Except that hunk of fucking junk died a few kilometers outside of town, and I had to walk the rest of the way. And then I had to sleep on their couch because they don’t drive or have a spare room anymore. I really need to get far away from them tonight, if possible, so I don’t irreparably damage my relationship with them, so if you could just, for old times and friend’s sake, have a look at her, I’d really appreciate it.”

Damn. Damn, damn, damn. This was why I was so far behind all the time. I had zero boundaries and virtually zero ability to say no.

“Fine. But before I can give you a timeline, I need to know what’s wrong with it.” It was official. I was a complete pushover. But it was hard to say no to the man standing in front of me. “Why are you between jobs, anyway? Last I heard, you were in Toronto, scouting for the NHL.”

“I was. But now I’m not.”

“I see.” But I didn’t. I just couldn’t think of anything else to say. “Leo, is everything okay?”

He was wearing his classic uniform of relaxed jeans, a faded gray t-shirt, and since it was summer and hot as hell most days, mandals. Sandals for men, which I was into on his feet.

Hands in his pockets, he stood there staring at me, and I began to wonder if we’d slipped into an alternate universe with the stillness.

“Leo?”

“I’m fine. How about you?”

“Me?”

God, I was the conversation queen today. I needed to pull it together. Also, I had a business to run so I needed to figure out what he needed and then see if I could possibly move on with the rest of my customers’ jobs.

“Okay, look, I’m great, thanks for asking. Let’s start with the car. What happened?”

“I don’t know. One minute I was driving, the next minute, the car started beeping, and then it just stopped.”

“That’s it? It just stopped?”

“Yeah, it just fucking stopped, okay Navy.”

I lifted my hands to the side and found myself getting very, very frustrated. “Fine, okay. It just stopped. Any smells? Strange noises? Indicator lights coming on?”

“No smells. No weird noises. I was close enough to town that I could walk in and deal with it later and It was dinnertime and my parents love their routines. As for the indicator lights, I don’t remember. They all kind of look the same. It’s been a long time since I’ve driven a car, Nave. I don’t own one and haven’t for a very long time. I typically use a car service, so I didn’t notice.”

I let out a deep breath and tried to reset the situation. “Why don’t we have a look, okay? Then you can tell me why the hell you came to help your parents, and then I can tell you when you can expect to get back to Toronto. Sound good?”

He took a moment and I felt kind of bad being a complete dick to him when he was clearly stressed and out of his element. “Yes, fine.”

When I walked around him, a breeze blew by and shoved the smell of his cologne right up my nose. In an instant, I was transported right back to the late nineties, when we spent so much time together in our basement doing stupid shit while I pretended I didn’t have the hots for him.

I made it to the car without falling over and hopped into the driver’s side and turned the keys in the ignition. Not much happened. I got out and made a few quick checks on the most common problems I saw from cars of this brand with that mileage and made a probable diagnosis.

“I think the fuel line is compromised. Not a huge expense, but I don’t think I can get to it today. I’m waiting on a few parts and deliveries have been slow. I can run to a friend’s garage in the next town to see if they have what I need, but that’s still not going to get you home tonight, even if they have the part.”

“That’s fine,” he said, sounding resigned to his fate as he came around to the side I was leaning against. “You don’t happen to know if there are any nice Airbnbs around here, do you? I can’t take another night on my parents’ couch.”

I looked at him like he’d grown a second head that was full of hot air. “No, Leo. There are zero Airbnbs here. This isn’t on anyone’s map of places that require accommodation.”

He wrapped a hand around his neck and tugged on it, and I knew what was about to happen. No, no, no. This wasn’t cool. I was me, Navy. Mechanic by day, hermit by night. Flat as a board, completely average when it came to my looks. Brown hair pulled back, no makeup, leggings, t-shirts, and Converse. Online gamer after work but worked most hours of the day. Had a house that reflected all of that.

He was Leo. Financially well-off. Sports superstar. Used to luxury and fine linens on his beds. Dated women with boobs and micro-skirts. And he was still my big brother’s best friend. He was undoubtedly not interested in me and still one-hundred percent off-limits. Been there. Done that. Bought the parting gift. No returns. No, he could not ask me to stay for a sleepover.

“You think you could put me up for the night? Please Navy?”

I shoved my hands in my pockets and clenched the fabric in frustration at my inability to set good boundaries, but then relaxed, realizing that nothing was going to happen if he slept over. I wasn’t a cretin without any ability to keep my hands off of a house guest, and he certainly wasn’t thinking that anything was going to happen. I uncurled my hands. What could possibly happen?

“Fine. You can stay, but don’t expect the Ritz or whatever you’re used to. Since Dean and I split, I’ve enjoyed doing absolutely nothing for anyone and the state of my house reflects that. My house isn’t always clean. Dinner is often cereal. And I leave cups on the side tables. Deal with it.”

I turned and started to walk away, but he put a hand on my elbow to stop me. “Hey, Nave. Thanks. I appreciate it. And, ah…” He looked uncomfortable and awkward, and I turned around to be fully present for this unique occasion.

“Yes?”

“I think about you a lot.”

Well, that was a weird statement. Shit. I was in the upside-down. Best to pretend that what he’d said meant nothing and walk away while I could still stand up. “I’m going to have Flo call around and see if they can find the part I need while I get back to work. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. The waiting area has a fancy espresso machine Flo convinced me to buy, books, and comfy chairs. I’ll let you know when I’m ready to leave.”

And with that, I gave him my back, resisted attempting a sexy walk away for fear of throwing out my hip, and headed straight to my private bathroom for a good round of nervous diarrhea.

CHAPTER TWO

I BLASTED through reception in a hurry to find Leo and get the night over with but stopped abruptly when I found him surrounded by Flo and a few of her friends who were going to go grab takeout and then come back to the garage for their book club meeting. It was another one of Flo’s ideas to attract women to the business, and I reluctantly admitted it was working. We were trying to make the space like nothing anyone had seen in the car repair industry. A place not just to go when your car needed repairs, but a gathering place. Thus the fancy drink machines and comfy chairs.

It was really working. Women drove from far away to have their cars fixed by me, but that was also a huge problem. It was just me at the time, and I was committed to hiring only women to work for me, so I was struggling to find another full-time mechanic to help out with the load. But I’d find her. If not, I’d train the next woman I found who was half into cars to work for me. It was getting out of control.

“Book club starting early, ladies?” I asked as I glared at the center of their attention, Leo.

Yes, he was smoking hot. Yes, he was smart and respectful. And okay yes, he was a former NHLer, which was actually kind of cool. But he was Leo. And for some reason, the first word that bubbled up from deep inside my repressed emotions box was, mine.

Which was ridiculous. He wasn’t mine at all. But a jealous streak I hadn’t seen in play since high school came roaring out of me.

“Langley. Let’s go. We’re going on a road trip to Lucan. If we leave now, we’ll be able to grab the part I need to send you home first thing in the morning.”

“Well, Flo has invited me to the book club and I thought–”

“No men are allowed in book club. It’s the first rule of book club. And as far as I can tell, you’re very much a man.”

I crossed my arms intentionally under my non-existent boobs, trying my best to prop them up to a solid B cup, because I could not compete with the cleavage in my reception area. He smiled at me, and I was detoured slightly from my plan but pulled myself together and got on with dragging him out of my garage.

“Come on,” I said as I tugged him to my car. “Let’s go, Romeo.”

“Bye, ladies, enjoy your book. I’ve heard that one has an incredible climax.” He waved goodbye as I tugged on his rock solid bicep while rolling my eyes and laughing at his dumb joke.

“Have you even read this month’s book?” I asked him as I opened my car and got in.

He folded himself into my small, efficient car and grimaced at the lack of legroom. “No, but they did a good job at outlining it for me. Sounds fucking hot.”

“Jesus. Buckle up. I’m not going to be the one who kills the infamous Leo”

We take off out of town, heading a quick ten minutes north to a friend’s garage who said he’d sell me the part. I’d had to do some serious negotiating and now owed him a crazy amount of Tim Horton’s coffee just to make sure I could remove temptation from my life as fast as possible.

“What do you want to listen to?” I asked as the silence in my little car became unbearable.

“Nothing.”

“Oookay.”

“Sorry, I’m just in kind of a bad mood today.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

A beep came through signaling an incoming text, and I immediately panicked, remembering that my phone was connected to my car’s audio system and automatically alerted me to who was texting and gave me a preview of the text in writing.

This particular text came from Flo, and I knew I was facing impending doom. I should just find the nearest bridge and drive off of it because this wasn’t going to go down in my favor.

I could see the preview text that said, “Holy fuck, Naves. Your friend is…” and thankfully nothing else could be seen, except while I was keeping my eyes on the road, the man with the lightning quick reflexes jabbed his index finger on the alert, which allowed the car to read the text aloud. I had a choice to make—pull over and immediately turn off the car, or keep my eyes on the road and hope for the best.

It didn’t matter which option I chose. I wasn’t fast enough. In the crisp British accent I’d chosen for my phone’s AI voice, the rest of the message was read out loud and clear.

“Holy fuck, Naves. Your friend is fucking hot! Is that the guy you’ve been into since high school? The one you were talking about last week? And he’s sleeping over? This is it. It’s time to ditch the dry spell and Vicky the Vibrator and get some real man D. See you tomorrow. Luv ya.”

Oh my God. It was just as bad as I thought it was going to be. In fact, it was worse. I was sticking with my plan to face forward and pretend nothing had just happened. I was nothing if not committed to a plan once I’d decided on a pathway and this was no reason to make any drastic personality changes.

I could feel his eyes on my face, but I refused to look his way. Not even a quick side-eye check. We only had five or so minutes to go until I got to Nick’s garage. I just needed to hang on until I could get a break from being so close to him.

I turned up the radio from the control on my steering wheel and welcomed the low background noise as we barreled down the highway toward our destination. Leo finally turned his head to face forward without talking about what he’d just heard. I let out a breath, but for some reason, wasn’t sure why I had a weird, tiny feeling of frustration deep in my core. I was asking for heartache if I let myself think he’d respond positively to the information delivered on that text. I would need to decide how I’d murder Flo tomorrow, though. It was clear she was a personal liability.

After another three or four minutes of silence, I pulled into Nick’s garage. I parked and let out a huge sigh, frustrated that my day had taken such a turn, but still full of nervous anticipation and anxiety that Leo was literally a foot away from me.

“I’ll be back in two minutes. Hang on.”

“Sure,” he answered with a strange look on his face that I wasn’t mentally available to interpret.

I got out when I saw Nick striding toward us and met him halfway up the parking lot. “Hey,” I said as he enveloped me in one of his incredible bear hugs. He was a big guy and super touchy-feely. He’d been a good friend to me after my divorce and occasionally we’d helped each other through the lonely nights. It had been a few months since I’d seen him last, and I found I’d missed his companionship.

“Hey, Naves. How are you, sweetheart?”

“I’m good. I’ll be better when I get this part into my friend’s car and get him on his way. Thanks for giving me your last one. I’ll bring the Tim’s over next week.”

“Damn right, you will. We can drink it next weekend, what do you say?”

“She’s busy.”

The voice came from close behind me, and I jumped a bit at the sound of it. I turned to see Leo beside me, giant arms crossed, legs spread. It looked like he was having some sort of silent pissing contest that was encoded in a man’s caveman DNA download with Nick.

“I am?” I asked him.

“Yes, you’re busy for the next few weekends. Is that the part we need?”

Nick tilted his head and looked at me with raised eyebrows. “Hi,” he said, waving a hand at Leo. “I’m Nick. I don’t believe we’ve met before. I’ve known Navy for a long time and she’s never talked about a friend that looks like you.”

Oh Jesus. This was not happening. These two cretins were not figuring out how to vanquish the other one. And over me. Ha. What a joke.

“He’s Leo and he’s leaving. Right, Leo? I’m almost done here, okay?”

I glared at him until he slid one of his free hands down my back, stopping at the curve of my ass and giving it a light squeeze before turning around and heading back into my car. What in the ever-loving hell? I was still in the upside-down.

Nick handed me the part and smiled. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full. Why don’t you call me if you’d like to hang out, okay?”

“I’m so sorry about that. That was really weird. And thanks, I’ll drive the Tim’s over later this week maybe.”

“Sounds good. Be safe, Navy. I’ll see you soon,” he said as gave me a light kiss on the cheek, handed over the part and walked back into his garage.

I turned on my heel and angrily stalked back to my car, got in and started it up, not trusting myself to speak to Leo at that moment. We drove back out of town, and once we hit the rows of fields with only the sound of the occasional tractor coming through, I pulled over into this very strange, very random picnic area with lots of trees, surrounded by fields. I’d never been inside of the spot, but now seemed like a good time to get some privacy.

“Okay, buddy. You want to tell me what that was back there,” I asked Leo. “Because who I see is none of your business.”

“Do you really name your vibrators?”

“What in the actual fuck?”

“What Flo said. On the text.”

I was going to do more than murder Flo. I was going to get creative and torture her for a while, then murder her.

“She was just messing around. She knew you’d read that text. Don’t get ahead of yourself. And yes, I bought and named Vicky right after Dean left and I could finally get a good orgasm. But that’s not the point. Why did you go all caveman back there?”

He had turned to fully face me, and I could see he was working through some shit. I didn’t know what crazy mojo had followed us into my car, but the past twenty minutes had me upside down and I imagined he was somewhere in the same space.

“I don’t know.”

“Oookay, well–” I started to say but he reached across the console and grabbed my face in his hands, pulling my mouth toward his with so much force, I yelped in both shock and fear. But that fear quickly dissolved into lust. A deep, haze-inducing, panty-melting need for the man I’d wanted for as long as I could remember.

“What’s happening?” I mumbled through our joined lips.

“God, I want you, Naves. Just stop talking,” he whispered back against my mouth.

I pulled back and realized my hands were clutching his t-shirt and I was already out of breath. “We can’t do this, Leo. This is bad, bad. No, no, no. Mark…”

Oh shit, I was sliding into a panic attack of epic proportions. My brother had really done a number on me. Thirty-six years old and still totally afraid of his disappointment and anger.

Leo smiled at me. He was close enough I could reach a finger up and trace the laugh lines around his eyes. I trailed that finger down the side of his face, through his rough stubble, ending as it fell off the sharp cut of his chin.

“Navy, we are two consenting adults and what your brother thinks doesn’t matter. Whatever he’s told you about me, forget it.”

“He told me you were a player. That if I ever slept with you, I’d just be a number.”

He sucked in the corner of his mouth and frowned. “He might have been right a few years ago, but honestly, I’ve always had a thing for you.”

I raised one eyebrow, completely skeptical. “Sure you have.”

He leaned his forehead against mine and let out a soft breath. “Remember that day in your room when you told me you were into me?”

“I’ve spent a lifetime trying to forget, so yes, I remember.”

“I wanted you so bad, but I knew your brother would have killed me and made your life a living hell. And we were so young, and I was moving toward a career in professional sports. It wouldn’t have worked out, but I left your house that day sporting an aching cock and a ton of regret.”

Fuck it. My brother wasn’t in charge of my love life. I tilted my chin up to grab his bottom lip with my teeth and tug him closer. I’d never fooled around in a car and things were going to get challenging, but with that revelation, I was all in. I’d waited so long for this moment and I wasn’t going to let a cramped car take it away from me.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, keeping him close to me while his hands found the edge of my shirt and ducked underneath to light little fires across my skin. Moving them around my waist, he shoved them under my leggings to grab my ass, roughly squeezing and kneading. I quickly realized we needed an exit plan. He was too big and this car was too damn small for us to get anywhere in this position.

“I should drive us home,” I said, even as I contradicted myself by obeying his command to lift my arms. He slid my shirt up and off of my body, releasing my breasts that pebbled at the feel of the cool air.

“Here,” he said. “Now. I need you, Navy Trager.”

Fuuuck, that was hot the way he had said my name. Hot enough to get me to agree to stick it out and have the full teenager car sex experience we never got.

“Climb on top of me, baby.”

He didn’t have to ask me twice. I scrambled over the center console so fast we crashed right into each other. He shoved his seat all the way back and lowered it nearly flat as I ground my hips against his thriving erection.

“Fuuuuckkkk,” he whisper-yelled. “Please stop. I’m going to come inside my pants and totally embarrass myself.”

I smiled down at him and felt a surge of power move through my body at the view. I had Leo Langdon underneath me and it felt as incredible as I’d always imagined it would.

He dug his hands into the back of my pants again and guided my hips into motion. Delicious pockets of heat and electric sensations moved through my lower half, while he used one hand to leverage my back downwards until he could slip a tiny nipple into his mouth. I moaned and braced myself against his chest, trying to simultaneously run away from the overwhelming sensation and get closer to the mouth that was causing all the chaos inside of me.

“Perfect. Just as I knew they would be,” he said with one of my nipples in between his teeth.

“There’s not much to them,” I countered.

“You let me be the judge of that.” He released the nipple he’d been working into a frenzy with a wet, soft pop, and I sighed. None of my previous lovers had paid attention to my small chest like this. They’d all looked kind of disappointed whenever we had gotten that far.

Our mouths crashed together, locked in tandem while each tongue fought for supremacy and lost because the other was just as desperate to find its control. I sat up, grinding against his impressive erection. As if I predicted it would be anything but.

“Do you have a condom on you?” I blushed. “I mean, if you want to, you know…” I trailed off at his amused smile.

“I have a condom and yes, I’d love to use it. Right here. Right now. I need to be inside of you, Naves. Please. Don’t make me beg for it, but I will if you want me to.”

He used a hand to reach into his back pocket, finding his wallet and handing it to me. “Zippered pocket. Hurry,” he said as he took my other nipple into his mouth, encircling the tight bud with his tongue and teeth, making it very hard to stay on the task at hand. I finally managed to get it out and handed it over.

“You do it,” he ordered me.

I ripped that damn foil as fast as I could. I was part so turned on I couldn’t wait and part terrified someone was going to see us.

I unbuttoned his jeans with one hand, slowly lowering the zipper, and reached in and pulled out his large, thick cock from inside his boxers, taking my time, exploring the feel of him in my hand until I could delay the inevitable no longer. Squeezing the top of the condom, I slowly rolled it down onto his thick cock and felt my core liquify.

“Hurry,” he whispered with a pained voice. “I can’t take this much longer.”

“On it,” I said and then laughed at my sad little joke. “Literally.”

Thanking my tendency to wear leggings every day, I slid the stretchy pants down over my hips just far enough to slide down on him, but not far enough to fully wrap my legs on either side of him. I liked the feeling of my legs being restricted and the friction would be that much more incredible with my legs tight and nearly closed.

I impaled myself fully on his length and braced my upper body with my hands on either side of his head against his chair. Our eyes connected and I began to move. Neither of us said a word, but both of us seemed to understand that something different was happening to us at that moment. It was bigger than whatever we’d both experienced up until then and it might just kill us when it came crashing down.

Leo grabbed a hold of my hips and helped guide my movements, starting out slowly, but quickly increasing our pace to match our growing need for each other. “Navy,” he ground out between his teeth. “Why did this take so long to happen?”

“No questions. Only sex.”

“On it, babe.”

Babe. That was one word that I always pretended made me want to puke, but when it came out of his mouth, my core went nuts, which meant my hips went nuts. We were crashing into each other. Hands, mouths, bodies colliding, trying desperately to catch the elusive high that we were chasing, until suddenly, I could feel it. The low, burning heat that started deep inside of me, slowly building with every pump of his dick inside of me.

“I’m coming.”

“Navy. Yes.”

It was all the encouragement I needed. I moved faster as he reached between us and began to circle my clit with his talented fingers at the exact right pace. “Oh God, Leo. I’m coming. Please, please.”

“Come for me, baby. You got this. Come on now.”

And I was powerless to do anything but what his body commanded from me, and so I came, followed closely by his release. We rode out the waves of pleasure, neither wanting to come to the end. I was unsure about where we went from here, but was trying to set that aside and just live in the moment, and the moment had been pretty freaking spectacular.

CHAPTER THREE

I COLLAPSED on top of him, panting, sweaty and so very satiated. I turned my head to the side and rested it on his shoulder, not quite ready to look in his eyes for fear of what I’d reveal to him and what I’d see back. I didn’t know where we went from here, what he wanted from me, or why this had even happened, and I wasn’t quite ready to have it end before it really got going.

“Stop that brain of yours. I can feel it working overtime,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around me, stroking my hair that had half fallen out of its bun and was probably heading off in a million directions, making me look like I’d hit it pretty hard. Which, in fact, I had.

I got brave and pushed up on my elbows, still able to feel him inside of me, and gave his dick an involuntary squeeze with my core. He raised his eyebrows and smiled, and my heart gave up the fight. Damn, shit, fuck. I knew this was going to happen.

“Navy, stop,” he said as he traced my frown with one of his fingers. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Everything your brother said was not true. I’m capable of being in a relationship. I’ve just never wanted to before.”

“Before?”

“Before you. BN. Before Navy, I was an idiot, a dumbass, and yes, a player.”

I smiled and sunk back down on top of his chest, playing with the light dusting of curls spread across the hard planes of his body. “BN.”

“I left my job and am starting a new one as a scout for another team. I was coming home to help mom and dad with some financial shit they’d gotten themselves into, and I’ve got an appointment next week to look at some lots out in the country. I want to be closer to them. And you.”

“You’re just adding me in to make me feel better.”

“Nope. Not true. You can ask my sister. She’s the one who pushed me to reach out to the realtor and to come and find you. Our parents are getting older and doing stupid shit on the regular. One of us needed to move closer. Even though it’s not that far from Toronto, it’s far enough that by the time one of us got here, it’d be too late.

“I told her you still lived here, and she said something weird happened to my face. And she was right. I’ve thought about you a lot over the past few years. I wanted to see you again, but I wanted to have my plans all settled first. Turns out, fate and my sister’s shitty car sped up my stupid timeline.

“So, anyway, my weird face and head want you, Navy. We want to see if we can make something work between us. So, you can tell your stupid brother that he’s wrong. I can commit. I can change, and I’ve always been into you.”

“Oh.”

“That’s it? Oh?”

“I’m very overwhelmed right now, Leo. I mean, this morning I came to work thinking my day would end with some Halo, ramen, and a shower. And now I’ve just had sex in my Ioniq with you of all people, and you’re moving here. It’s a lot to process.”

“Take your time, babe. We’ve got as long as you need.”

I leaned in and lightly kissed his mouth, resting my forehead against his and closing my eyes, wondering how I’d gotten so lucky. “How about first, we get ourselves sorted so no one comes along and peeks in. Then, we grab some food and head back to my place and see where the night takes us?”

He kissed the tip of my nose and wrapped me a little tighter in his arms. “Sounds like a plan.”

I lifted myself off of him, still in a bit of a state of shock that I’d had him inside of me, and tugged up my trusty stretchy leggings while trying not to knock my head against the roof of the car and still look a little bit sexy. Who was I kidding? I totally wasn’t the girl who pulled off the sexy look after sex. I was more the “woke up late for class” girl with smudges around my eyes, hair flying in every direction, and flushed cheeks.

I scrambled over to the driver’s seat, snatching my t-shirt along the way. We both got ourselves dressed, and Leo went to the trash can in the picnic area to dispose of the condom. When he got back in, we locked eyes and just started laughing. We laughed and laughed and laughed because now we weren’t sure what was so funny, but surely that was super funny. I laughed away years of stress, and laughed with relief at things working out just the way they were meant to. I had initially been laughing at the both of us looking like guilty teenagers who’d totally banged in the front seat of a car, something I’d never managed to do when I was an actual teenager, but my laughter had just morphed from there.

Our laughter slowed, and we were left with huge smiles and full hearts. I leaned over and gently placed a soft kiss on his full lips, scraping my fingernails through the stubble on his cheeks and through the black curls at the nape of his neck.

“I don’t want to jinx this, but fuck, Navy, I’m falling for you. When I think about it, I have been since you were sixteen and asked me to make out with you. Reconnecting with you today felt like the perfect new beginning.”

“I did not ask you to make out with me.”

“Did too. I was there. I heard it with my own burning ears. I was terrified. I won’t forget that anytime soon.”

I kissed him again and then pulled back and barked out a harsh laugh. “Is this what we can expect from now on? You and me, laughing, having sex in cars, and lying about our youth?”

“Yup, ‘fraid so,” he said through a beautiful grin.

“Then I’m in. And yes, I’ve been falling for you since I was fifteen, for the record. I just got brave enough at sixteen to proclaim it. And no, I didn’t ask you to make out with me. I simply nudged you in the direction I needed you to go. Too bad it took you twenty bloody years to get there.”

“I’m here baby. Let’s get moving so I can prove it to you one more time.”

With a huge smile on my face, my t-shirt on inside out, and my high bun coming out of the side of my head, I drove Leo back to my house, where he proved to me he was all in and where we rehearsed how we were going to tell my brother about the two of us without making his head explode.

I never actually got around to fixing that fuel pump that day or the next.

The End

About the Author

Holly Mortimer is a contemporary romance writer whose mission is to create stories for strong women over the age of thirty, about strong women over the age of thirty who are looking for their happily ever after. Holly’s stories reflect real entrepreneurial women on the page that empower more women to never stop searching for their own fierce love story and defining their own life.

She is currently publishing her tenth book, Influenced and owns and operates Holly Darling HQ, an email marketing firm for authors.

You can follow her on Instagram

WHEN SHE CONTINUED

HOPE JONES

CHAPTER ONE

HENLEY

THE PINK plus sign stared back at me.

Holy shit, I thought to myself. I mentally started counting days down since my last period and realized that I was likely around five to six weeks pregnant. Just pregnant enough to start having symptoms, which is why I decided to take a pregnancy test. I hadn’t actually expected the positive result that was glaringly obvious.

Graham, my husband, and I weren’t trying to prevent pregnancy, but we weren’t actively trying. Regardless, I was deliriously happy with the results. I knew based off Graham’s reaction to my pregnancy announcement with our first child, Wyatt Samuel, that he would be just as happy with this new baby.

I flushed the toilet, washed my hands, then set about getting a baggie to put the test in. After hiding it in my purse, so Graham wouldn’t see, I went in search of my two-year-old son. Graham owned a tire shop. He was usually so busy because he only had one or two technicians at a time, however, after everything that happened with my sister two years ago and my almost death, he decided to hire more technicians and hire a part-time office manager that could be there when I couldn’t. My life had gotten way more hectic and busy since having Wyatt, especially after he hit his terrible-twos. Everything I’d ever heard about the terrible-twos was more than accurate.

I found Wyatt in the living room, sitting in front of the TV with a cup of fruit, munching away like it was his last meal. He hadn’t noticed me yet, so I took a second to stop and admire the beauty that was my son. He looked like an exact replica of his father, golden-brown hair, and mossy green eyes. He even had the laugh lines starting at the corner of his eyes, leading into his temple, like Graham. Wyatt looking like his father was something I’d prayed for almost daily when I was pregnant with him. His father couldn’t be more handsome in my eyes, so why wouldn’t I want that for my son?

Wyatt giggled in his baby voice at something on the TV and snapped me out of my stupor.

“Hey, baby, wanna go to the store with me?”

Wyatt’s head bounced in my direction like I’d scared him then his eyes lit up with excitement. “Uh, yeah,” he said like I was silly for asking.

Who was I kidding? I was silly for asking Wyatt such a question. He loved going anywhere with his mama. I knew I’d still have a mama’s boy for a few more years, so I was soaking it all in and taking advantage of it. I dreaded the day that he no longer wanted my kiss on his cheek because it wasn’t ‘cool’ anymore.

“Cool beans, dude. Let’s go get cleaned up then.” I held my hand out for him to walk in my direction then lead him up the stairs to my bathroom.

As I walked into the room and set him on the counter to begin washing him off, I caught the scarring on my chest in the mirror. I ran my hand over the angry, puckered skin and didn’t wince like I had for months after I was shot and had the surgery that saved my life. It no longer hurt, but I’d still winced for months and months because I knew how close to death I was from what Graham had told me. Tuesday’s, my best friend, husband, Sam, was the paramedic that arrived on scene the day I was shot. He literally saved my life. Had he not gotten there so quickly, I likely wouldn’t be here to wash my son’s dirty face and fingers. My husband wouldn’t be able to have the son he’d always wanted. I wouldn’t be here to celebrate being pregnant, and there wouldn’t even be a baby. Because of Sam, I had my life, my husband, my son, and this new life growing inside of me. I’d been so grateful after everything that I’d named Wyatt after Sam. Wyatt Samuel Vano was his full name. I felt there was no better man, aside from Graham, to name my son after.

I shook the thoughts off, hating when my mind traveled to that dark place. Lacey, my long-lost sister, had been the one to shoot me. She was not happy with my mother for giving her up for adoption, and she was not happy with me for ‘taking’ the happy life she felt she deserved. I can’t say that I would shoot someone over those circumstances, but I could understand her feelings of resentment toward me and my mother. I wished that I could have done something more to help her before she got to the point of so much anger that she’d willingly shoot me, but I hadn’t even known about her until shortly before I was shot.

Pulling Wyatt off the counter and tugging him back down the stairs toward the garage, I thought about my sister. I’d spent a large amount of time since the shooting contemplating whether I should visit my sister in prison. Yes, she shot and almost killed me, but she was badly abused growing up. She wasn’t adopted out into a good, loving family. I hated that for her and desperately wanted to know how she was doing since that fateful day more than two years ago. Graham was vehemently against it with every fiber of his being. In his eyes, Lacey is the person that almost took his wife’s life, and the life we had together. I understood, as I was sure I’d feel the same way if the roles were reversed.

I buckled Wyatt in the car and headed toward town, knowing exactly where I was going and how I planned on telling Graham that we were having another baby.

CHAPTER TWO

HENLEY

I LISTENED as Graham’s truck pulled in the garage and felt my stomach drop to my knees. I wasn’t nervous because I thought Graham would be angry. I was nervous because I wanted him to be as happy as I was. We weren’t planning another baby so soon after Wyatt, so I wasn’t sure if he’d be indifferent or ecstatic.

Finishing the dinner I had on the stove, I turned the burner off and listened for the noises I always heard when Graham got home from work and Wyatt was still awake. Wyatt always stood at the garage door, waiting for his daddy to walk in so he could throw himself in Graham’s arms. Graham would give him a raspberry on his neck, where he was ticklish, and Wyatt would squeal in an ear-piercing tone. Wyatt may have hit a note I was sure Mariah Carey couldn’t even attempt, but the noises of my son and husband put me at peace.

I listened to the squeal, the sound of Wyatt’s feet hitting the hardwood floor when Graham set him back down, and then utter silence. I had our dinner bowls pulled down from the cabinet and started pulling silverware next, but the deafening silence gave me pause.

Surely, Graham would’ve seen what Wyatt was wearing. The letters were in the biggest font I could get on the shirt without it wrapping around the back of the shirt. He had to have seen in.

Wyatt’s feet pitter pattered on the floor as he came hauling ass into our kitchen, slamming into my back, then using my shirt to stop himself from falling. I laughed and hugged him into my side.

Suddenly, I felt the hair at the nape of my neck being swept to the other side, and my husband’s lips met the sensitive skin under my ear. I hadn’t even heard him walk into the kitchen. He was too quiet for his own good and I scared too easily. Graham’s hands wrapped around my waist, as his lips traveled down my neck toward my shoulder.

“My baby’s in there?” Graham whispered after a few beats of silent kissing, squeezing where my stomach would be rounding in just a few months.

I nodded my head and felt moisture begin to gather in my eyes. Graham was happy, if his voice was anything to go on, more than happy actually.

That’s all I’d wanted in life. The peace that came with having a happy, loving, and laughing family. I was surrounded in that kind of peace every single second of my life. I’d hoped that I could give that to Graham too.

I couldn’t trust my voice not to wobble with my tears, so I nodded my yes to him. Graham spun me around, dislodging Wyatt from the hand he had on my shirt, but catching him before his tush could hit the floor.

Graham’s lips hit mine in the softest, yet most possessive way I’d ever been kissed before. His tongue slowly came out and traveled along the edge of my lips, teasing me. I captured his tongue with my teeth gently before releasing it and giving him a taste of his own medicine. He groaned but tore his mouth from mine like it caused him physical pain. Whimpering, I looked up at him with my vision cloudy from pure lust.

Graham’s eyes moved in the direction of Wyatt still leaned up against both our legs and the room came back to me. Graham had kissed me so deeply that I’d completely forgotten where I was, what I was doing, and who was in the room with us.

I face-planted into Graham’s chest to hide the blush that was working its way along my cheeks and down to the top of my cleavage. Even though we’d been together many years, Graham still affected me like we were two horny teenagers trying to have a make-out session before our parents caught us.

With my head in the same direction of Wyatt, I caught sight of his shirt and smiled, happy that Graham picked up on it immediately. His shirt read, “Every superhero needs a sidekick, now you’ll have two, Daddy.”

Wyatt looked up to Graham like he was a superhero, and I know I did the same, especially after he found me in our house, bleeding to death. Graham kept his cool, applied pressure to the gaping bullet wound in my chest, and then held on even longer when I was taken to the hospital and immediately taken back for emergency surgery. Because the bullet was only two inches to the right of my heart, the surgery took hours, especially with my blood pressure tanking and coming back multiple times throughout the procedure.

He was my rock throughout our entire relationship. When I was in the car accident that took literally every memory I’d had of him, even our first meeting and wedding day. Holding my hand and gently guiding me without forcing me when I was trying to regain those memories. To the day I finally got those memories back and we’d had the best sex of both our lives, save for the night I told him I was pregnant with Wyatt. He’d held my hand as I’d bled out on our living room floor, telling him my goodbyes because I was sure I wouldn’t live to see the next sunrise. Helping me come to terms with the fact that I’d had a sister I never knew about. Encouraging my healing process when I’d have nightmares after I’d had the surgery to remove the bullet that was two inches away from my heart.

Graham Vano had done more for me in the few years we’d been together than any other person on the planet. He was my rock, my superhero. I couldn’t imagine what my life would look like without him in it, or if I would’ve survived up to the point I was at.

I was sure fucking happy I didn’t have to find out anytime soon.

Graham grabbed my chin with his fingers and gently titled my face until my eyes met his dark, mossy-green ones.

“Wait until tonight, baby, I’ll show my appreciation.”

That sounded absolutely delicious, and I couldn’t wait to see what he had in store for me.

Click Here To Read How Graham and Henley’s Story Started

Make sure to read When She Remembers so you can see how Graham and Henley’s story started! There’s so much more to love about them and many more characters!

About the Author

Hope Jones is the wife of her very own alpha male and the mother of four beautiful daughters. She lives in a small town in South Carolina, but was born in Brunswick, GA. She’s always had a love for reading, even at a young age, thrillers always interested her. As she got older, romance mixed with some thriller/suspense became her obsession.

If you can’t find Hope glued to her Kindle, you’ll usually find her chasing her girls around, running her hectic household, and plotting stories for the alpha men that have taken over her mind.

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ON THE WINGS OF LOVE

INES JOHNSON

KIPEPEO’S SENSES WERE TINGLING. She was near. A warming sensation went through him the moment she entered the door. He closed his eyes and he could see her clearly. Her presence was like a supernova in his mind.

She didn’t come to him immediately. She was a social butterfly, and she flitted amongst the chatty gnats, whose incessant droning irritated him. She gave a droll shake of her head to the lazy slugs slowly inching their way to the exit. She even waved a cheery hello to the freeloading parasites who were on their third glass of complimentary water. The sugar dispenser, which Kip had filled when he’d opened the cafe this morning, was conspicuously empty.

Though his eyes were closed and his back turned to all this action, Kip saw the events play out as clearly as though he were beside her. In all his years, he’d never seen anyone as clearly as her.

“Hey, Kip!”

“Good morning, Mishaundra.”

Kip turned to her. The sun was still stretching its rays into the morning sky, but her radiance nearly blinded him. It was pointless to shade his eyes at it. He’d still see every lash that shaded her hazel eyes, every freckle that dotted her brown cheeks, every crease in her full red lips.

Those lips stretched wide enough to warm all of creation now. “I told you to call me Mitchie.”

“Yes, of course. How are you today, Mitchie?”

“I’m good. Thank you so much for opening up for me today.”

Mitchie slipped on an orange apron. The lettering on the fabric blazed her name across her chest in white embroidery. She slid her brown forearm behind her nape to free her shoulder-length braids from the collar. She was wearing jeans, boots, and one of her trademark T-shirts. Before the apron covered it, Kip saw that today’s T displayed the TV icon, Rerun, below a banner that read “What’s Happening?”

Kip felt plain next to her urban chic. Underneath his apron, he wore his usual khaki pants, plain cotton shirt, and close-toed crocks. Any other material was confining to him.

Besides, hiding in plain sight was how he’d survived for so long. Color attracted too much attention. For someone like Kip, interested eyes were the last thing he wanted.

Mitchie moved past him and to the prep station. Vegetables were diced and in covered containers. The measuring cups were laid out by the flour in preparation for the pastries. The pots and pans were all lined up on the stove in the array she preferred.

Kip watched Mitchie’s brows raise in delight. A soft smile played at the corner of her lips. When she turned to him, the smile grew and the fabric of his breathable pants constricted.

Kip turned his back to her, something he would never do out in the wilds of the city streets. Something he normally didn’t do inside the four walls of Mitchie’s Cafe. There were predators seated at the counter and in the corner booths. He wasn’t the only critter Mitchie attracted with her sweet and savory fare.

“You noted that today’s lunch special is chicken and gravy,” he said. “But we’re out of white flour.”

“We don’t use plain white flour here.” Mitchie went to a cupboard and pulled out a red box with a dark skinned woman smiling in the corner. It read Aunt Jemima Pancake Mix.

Kip frowned, not making the correlation as to how pancake mix would stand in place for gravy.

“Don’t tell me you’ve fried chicken without Aunt Jemima?”

He didn’t answer. Both because of the double negative and the ignorance of the woman.

“They don’t have this in Africa?” Mitchie opened the red box.

Kip wasn’t sure. Though his accent had been honed in the villages of Western and Southern Africa, and his fake passport stated that Nigeria was country of origin, Kip hadn’t been back to the continent in decades.

“This will make it better,” she said. “Trust me.”

Mitchie poured the pancake mix into one of the bowls. The white powder coated her brown hands, and the flakes fell into the mixture as she stirred.

They worked in harmony, like a practiced machine. Kip dipped the breasts into the eggs and then handed them to Mitchie to coat with flour. She brushed her hand over her face, leaving behind a streak of white Jemima flour.

“You have…” Kip pointed and then reached a tentative hand to her cheek. The moment his skin made contact with hers, a wave of heat shot through him. He could taste her warmth, feel her sweetness. Mitchie was a pure delicacy; like the sun on a honeysuckle blossom.

“Kip?”

“Hmm?” He rubbed his thumb across her cheek as he gazed into her hazel eyes. She let out a shaky breath. That breath hit his palm and Kip felt an electric charge ignite within.

They were speaking in hushed tones in the cafe. No, actually the cafe was quiet. Kip only looked up when he noticed the silence in the room. It was tense and thick, like the darkness of night. All compound eyes were on them.

A croaking sound brought the two of them apart. Over in the corner booth, an owlish man leaned his curved back over a cup and saucer. His eyes were small and beady, set in a wrinkled face covered by a downy white beard. He looked down his hooked nose at the two of them.

“I’ve been waiting for a refill for ten minutes,” crowed the old man. His wrinkled hand shook as he lifted his empty coffee cup. If the mug had been filled, its contents would’ve splashed onto the table.

“Sorry, Mr. Bundy, I’m coming.” Mitchie picked up the coffee pot. She scooped up a brownie as well. “I’ll bring you a treat on the house.”

Mr. Bundy’s small, beady eyes grew wide with greedy delight. At the same time, they narrowed at the corners, focusing on Mitchie. When Mr. Bundy’s white teeth flashed, Kip’s hand instinctively went out to stop Mitchie. His fingers grazed the fine hairs of her forearm. His heart pounded in his palm at the thought of Mitchie getting too close to the predatory old man. She had no idea of the dangers that creeped and crawled and slithered and landed in her cafe each day.

Kip turned to her with a smile. “You handle your pancake gravy. I’ll take care of the old man.”

“Be nice. He’s one of our regulars. My business thrives on customers like him.”

Mitchie handed Kip the pot with a smile and turned back to the stove. Kip made his way over to Mr. Bundy. He was careful to keep the rest of the customers in his line of sight, which wasn’t too hard, as his peripheral vision was excellent. Unlike the customer before him, Kip didn’t need to turn his head in order to see what was coming at him.

Kip placed the brownie down first. Mr. Bundy eyed the dark treat like prey that had been cornered without escape. His grin spread under his beaked nose and a bit of water dribbled off his lower lip. The sight turned Kip’s stomach. He turned his direct gaze from the old man and focused on filling the coffee cup, but he still watched the old man’s deceptively effortful movements. Kip wasn’t fooled.

In a civilized move that Kip wasn’t expecting, Mr. Bundy picked up a knife and fork in his gnarled hands. His fingernails were long and sharp enough to slice the chicken frying up in the pan. Mr. Bundy used the butter knife to slice through the gooey dessert.

The brownie’s crispy skin cracked and split, causing its molten contents to ooze out. Mr. Bundy carved out the inner carcass, reaching underneath the outer shell to scoop out the brown innards.

“Sweet girl,” Mr. Bundy said around a mouthful. The brown guts of the treat coated his sharp teeth as he spoke. “She has a special touch, doesn’t she? What’s the saying? Oh yes, the food’s so good she must put her foot in it.”

The smell of Mitchie’s brownies had brought Kip into the shop two weeks ago. The taste of her baked chicken had brought him back for dinner. The Seasonal Help Wanted sign in the window had given him a reason to stick around up until the winter holiday.

He’d watched her cook day in and out for the last two weeks, waiting to spy what secret ingredient she used to bring forth such a delicious result. But there was nothing special about any of the recipes or instructions she gave. And, contrary to the current theory, Mitchie was far too concerned with the health department for such an unsanitary practice.

“I’m sure it’s the old pans,” Kip said. “They’re from her mother, and her grandmother before that. So, they carry generations of flavor.”

“The pans aren’t all she got from her ancestors.” Mr. Bundy licked the entrails of the brownie from his fingertips. “That little half-breed makes me reconsider my decision to become vegetarian.”

The old man chuckled. It was a screeching sound that made Kip’s shoulder itch, as though a predator were on his back. Kip’s shoulder blades pressed together, as a burning sensation lit the center of his spine.

“What did you say?” Kip said.

Mr. Bundy turned his head until his beady eyes were narrowed on Kip, that grin spread predator wide. “With all your many eyes and extra senses, you can’t tell me you didn’t know.”

Kip turned back to the counter, his every sense on high alert. Mitchie was smiling and chatting with two abnormally tall women. Their limbs were so long that their knees bent and their feet touched the floor even though they sat on bar stools.

Like the old man before him, they weren’t human. They were ants. There were only the two of them now, but if they liked what they tasted, more would return. They were eating Mitchie’s sugar cookies, which meant they definitely would return with more of their army.

That would be good for business. For Mitchie’s business. But not good for Kip.

He’d survived so long by staying away from others like him. Where many came to congregate, predators would soon follow. The entire cafe was filled with supernatural critters, mostly prey. But the hunters would swoop in soon enough. Case in point; he’d just topped off the coffee cup of an owl.

Something was off with his fight-or-flight reflexes. He should be half out the door by now. Instead, Kip’s gaze went back to Mitchie.

A half-breed? He’d never heard of such a thing.

“When the colonizers came to the motherland,” said Mr. Bundy after a gulp of his coffee, “humans weren’t the only thing that they stole. They just didn’t know it.”

“She’s an Aziza?”

“Not a full blood like us. Half-breeds are rare, but they exist.”

“She doesn’t know?”

“It’s unlikely. Most half-breeds have too much blood and not enough magic. She may never go through the change. Doesn’t change the way she tastes. Why do you think this cafe is crawling with insects? You’re not the only one with a sweet tooth.”

Everything zoomed into focus, magnified by his twelve-thousand eyes. Mitchie turned from the ants who pinched apart the edges of their sugar cookies, away from the flies discreetly spitting on their scrambled eggs before putting a forkful into their mouths, and the cockroaches gnawing on the napkins they’d just used to wipe their mouths.

Kip ignored all these sights that he’d seen many times over his life. He focused on a sight he’d never noticed in the last two weeks.

Mitchie stirred the pot of thickening gravy made from pancake flour. Round and round her brown arm went with the ladle. She sprinkled in a bit of Old Bay seasoning, and as she did so, Kip saw a few flecks of her skin tumble into the pot with the salty spice.

Every species shed its skin in some way. It was a part of the growing pains. A butterfly spent a good portion of its life shedding its old skin and growing into new skin. The old owl was right.

She wasn’t putting her foot into her food. But she was putting a bit of herself into the mix. Mitchie was molting.

Silverware clinked against glass dishes as the customers gobbled down the fruits of Mitchie’s labor and held up plates for more. But Kip couldn’t move. Not toward Mitchie to help serve, not away from her to get to safety.

This was his worst nightmare. He’d done everything he could to make himself either invisible or unappetizing. Where Mitchie was unknowingly offering up a taste test. And her customers were ravenous for more.

He should do something. But should that something be to fly to her or to flee from her?

The bell over the door dinged, announcing someone else hungry for a taste of Mitchie. The nightmare got worse when this new customer slithered across the threshold. The lanky man in an expensive suit flashed his slitted eyes at Kip as the door closed behind him.

Silence reigned inside the cafe. The cockroaches went still. The gnats held their buzzing breaths. The ants fell into formation.

Kip saw Mitchie’s ears twitch. She might not know what she was, but she sensed that danger had come through her door. Still, she turned with a smile on her face to greet her new customer.

“I’ve been hearing so much about this place,” the sharp-dressed man hissed in a quiet voice that sent shivers down the spines of all in attendance. All but the owl who picked at the outer skin of his brownie. “I decided I must come in for a taste of my own.”

The reptile glided toward the counter in two smooth strides. The ants broke rank and backed away, making space. Mitchie held her ground and her smile, but Kip saw the shudder skitter across her delicate shoulders at the snake’s approach.

“Mitchie, I presume?” The snake lifted his long, thin hand across the counter.

Mitchie stared at the proffered hand and hesitated. Kip looked from Mitchie’s smooth flesh to the harsh scales on the back of the serpent’s wrist. Kip’s hands, hands that had had a direct taste of Mitche’s sweet flesh just a moment ago, balled into a tight fist.

But his feet stayed rooted to the spot where he stood. Years of holding still and waiting for the danger to pass, of fleeing fast without looking back, of not forming attachments so that nothing could hold him down when he had to fly away, would not let him go to her.

Mitchie held up her mitted hands. The snake’s brows drew in displeasure at the thick material that kept him from his taste test.

“My name is Mr. Yoka. I’m having a holiday party for a few close friends, and I want to hire your… services.”

“As a caterer? I’d be happy to take your order. You can pick up as early as Christmas Eve.”

“The party is on Christmas Day and it’s at my mansion.”

“I’m sorry.” Mitchie’s amiable smile held, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m not available on Christmas Day.”

Mr. Yoka’s body shook with annoyance. The gnats moved toward the door for a hasty exit. One of the cockroaches unfroze and headed for the bathroom.

“Isn’t there a saying that the customer is always right?” hissed the snake.

Kip felt the heat of the change crawl up his back and grip his shoulders. His wings ached to unfold and… what? He had no defense against a reptile with its fangs and venom. He would only get both himself and Mitchie killed.

But just as she’d proven before, Mitchie was more than met the eye. Her voice didn’t crack. Her smile didn’t waver.

“Until they’re wrong. It’s not a reasonable request. You’re welcome to order off the menu during business hours or seek business elsewhere.”

The only sound that could be heard in the cafe was the fly slumping against the wall in shock. The remaining cockroach turned its head slightly, as though peeking to see if it was safe to move. The owl chuckled as he slurped the remaining contents of his mug.

“I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again.” And with a slight bow, Mr. Yoka turned from the counter.

Before he crossed the threshold, his gaze connected with Kip. The reptile took a deep inhale. His nose wrinkled with distaste, but his eyes didn’t lose their interest.

Great. Exactly what Kip needed. To gain a predator’s notice.

The moment the door closed behind Mr. Yoka, Mitchie gave her body a shake, as though shedding it of the distasteful interaction. She took off the oven mitt, picked up another coffee pot, and began making her way around to the tables, topping off her customers’ mugs.

Kip decided then and there that it was time he moved on. That was the way he would take care of himself. He couldn’t stay in a place that was filled with snackable supernatural beings. A place that was in the sights of not one but two of his natural predators.

He wouldn’t make it to Christmas Eve as he’d originally promised. Today would be his last day at Mitchie’s. But he wouldn’t leave until he’d cleaned up after the dinner service. He wasn’t a louse.

Kip shoved through the back door using his foot. He hefted two trash bags up and into the garbage bin. As he turned, he cursed his bad luck. He should’ve run when he had the chance. But the thought of Mitchie falling under the venomous trap of the serpent had halted him. That and the desire to have one more taste of her against his palms. He’d been distracted all day since his first true taste of her. That was why he didn’t sense the danger lurking in the shadows.

Mr. Yoka stood, blocking the door back into the restaurant. The man had slithered up when Kip’s back had been turned. He was never this careless. At least he’d never been before he’d met Mitchie.

“I don’t want any trouble,” said Kip.

The reptile held up his hands. “Neither do I. We want the same thing.”

“I think you want to eat me and I’d rather keep breathing.”

“You’re not palatable to me.”

It was another of Kip’s defense mechanisms. His wings were rimmed with poison that another venomous predator could smell. But at his center, he was just as sweet as any other butterfly.

“We’re civilized in this country,” continued the snake. “It’s not like in the old world where our kind were a bunch of savages.”

“Then, as a gentleman, I’m sure you’ll let me pass.”

Mr. Yoka didn’t budge. “Not so fast. Neither of us has gotten what we wanted. You want the half-breed. My associates and I would like a sweet treat. Perhaps we can come to an arrangement.”

“I’m not following.” Because he truly wasn’t. Kip might not be a hero who would thrust himself into harm’s way for another, but neither was a sycophant who would toss another in front of himself to save his own hide.

“Let me be clear,” hissed the snake. “We want your babies.”

“Babies?”

“You know what she is. We know what you are. You fuck the girl and make babies. Give us the eggs and we let you both live.”

Kip couldn’t form words. Eggs? Butterfly larvae? That’s what this was about?

In her lifetime, a female butterfly could lay as many as 150 eggs. The female Aziza carried these eggs in a sack just on the underside of the skin surrounding the abdomen. Or as humans called, the love handles. After mating with a male Aziza, the female would lay the fertilized eggs on the underside of plant leaves.

Try as they might to conceal their offspring, Aziza eggs were a delicacy amongst supernatural predators and natural ones alike. Concealment was the only protection Aziza parents had to offer. Once their duty was done, and the eggs laid, both mother and father were off to live their lives, never looking back at the children they left to fend for themselves.

“With a bit of venom, you could put her under and cut the eggs from her sack without her knowing. Then repeat the process until her sack runs dry. Not only would you be saving your own hide, but we’ll pay you handsomely. Think about it, you could walk away a wealthy insect.”

The sad thing was that as the snake slithered into the night, Kip did think about it. Not about the money. With his nomadic life, he had no need for excess funds. He’d always crashed into a town. Worked when he needed. Then left without a trace.

He had no intentions of putting down roots or opening a bank account. Hell, he didn’t appreciate pants with pockets. He didn’t like to carry anything on his back, much less in a back pocket. What he did think about was the other thing the snake had said.

“You heading out for the night?” Mitchie asked as she tossed a cleaning rag into the sink.

The cafe was empty of customers. The pots and pans were shining brightly in the fluorescent light. The food for tomorrow was prepped and put away.

Her scent was a misting cloud over the antiseptic cloying of the cleaning products. His eyes zeroed in on the pointed curve of her ear, another trademark of his kind. How had he missed that detail? There were sepia, chestnut, and ochre highlights in her dark hair. A reddish glow rested on her high cheekbones. It was too late in the day to be makeup. Plus, Mitchie rarely wore any due to the fact that she worked over high temperatures all day. It was her natural coloring.

“Yes,” he said, drawing closer to her. “I’m leaving.”

Mitchie’s gaze rose to his. She tilted her head in a very insect like manner. Her long lashes fluttered and her pupils dilated. “You don’t just mean for tonight, do you?”

Yes, she was definitely Aziza, with the ability to see more than people let on.

“It’s better this way,” he said.

“Not for you.”

“I’m not doing this for me. I’m doing this for you.”

“Well, I don’t want you to leave. I want you to stay. No one should be alone on the holidays. Unless you’re headed home to family?”

Kip shook his head. “They’re all dead.”

“I’m so sorry. How?”

“Snake bite.”

“All of them?”

“Yes.”

“The same snake?”

“Yes.”

Aziza in clusters were easy to spot, to hunt, and to kill. So Kip kept to himself and kept moving. He stuck his antenna out for no one and didn’t expect anyone to do the same for him.

Mitchie reached her hand out to him. Kip braced for the impact. The feel of her bare skin on his had left him hungry for more. He’d assumed she’d place her hand on his shoulder. He was wrong.

She reached for his palm. Butterflies tasted with their hands and feet. A palm to palm touch was the same as a kiss. And when she twined her fingers with his, it was as though they had tumbled down onto a mattress.

She was talking to him. Saying words. They all muddled as the sweet heat of her sent shock waves of pleasure through his entire body. Instinct took over, and before he could rationalize what he was doing, he pulled her closer.

Mitchie’s eyes widened as their heads came closer and closer together. In their dark depths, Kip saw reflected a few dozen gazes. He paused in his descent to stare in wonder.

“Don’t stop,” she breathed.

He had no intentions of stopping. Not now. Not ever.

He came in for a landing. She was a zinnia. She was nectar. He deepened the kiss, but more importantly, he pressed his palm into hers with one hand. He roamed her body with the other. He tugged at the apron, pulling it free and giving him more access. Only one layer left to shed.

“We need a condom,” she breathed.

“Why?”

“Protection.”

Right. “I’m clean.” As a supernatural being, he was immune to all human disease.

“Me too, but there’s the other thing…”

Right. That thing. That threw cold water in his face. What was he doing taking it this far? He was supposed to be leaving. But Kip couldn’t take his hands off Mitchie.

“You should know that I can’t get pregnant.” The taste of her sweetness soured slightly as she said the words. “I know this is not what you want to hear just before we… you know. And I want to… you know. Have since the day I hired you. But I want to be completely honest with you about who I am.”

The truth? She was giving him the truth. He owed her the same.

Kip took a deep breath. “For the first time in, well ever, I feel like I want to spread my wings to the world, which is difficult for me because it would leave me vulnerable.”

“That is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“It’s the truth.”

Kip pulled her to him, capturing her lips. He reached for both of her hands and pressed their palms together. With the twining of their fingers, they both shuddered as though they’d reached their climax, but they were only getting started.

Somehow they made their way upstairs to the apartment she occupied over the cafe. Their layers of clothing were shed in a matter of minutes, and they cocooned themselves around each other. Kip buried himself inside of her. His wings burned, his shoulder blades aching to be set free. At some point in the night, he pulled her back to his front and thrust inside again. With her face buried in the pillows and her eyes closed in ecstasy, he let his wings free.

When they were both spent, Mitchie rested her head against his heart. Kip was sated, and he slept. But insects never truly slept.

He kept his hands roaming over Mitchie’s body. He pressed his feet against her thighs and surrounded himself with her. He decided then and there that he was never leaving.

He didn’t know if she was right about her infertility? But he did know that butterflies laid eggs in the spring. It was the start of winter. He had time to decide what to do.

Over the next few days Kip couldn’t keep his hands off Mitchie. They rose at dawn from a night of delectable lovemaking. As they baked the morning fare and prepped for the lunch rush, Kip’s hands were never too far from Mitchie’s flesh.

He feasted directly on her skin, the sweat, the salt, the sweat. Humans only ever saw butterflies sipping the nectar of flowers or munching on leaves, but their appetites were much more varied. Mitchie’s body was a never ending buffet that he snacked on morning, noon, and night.

The underside of her breasts were better than beignets. The taste of her inner ear was sweeter than Godivas. And between her thighs was the spiciest of curries.

He pitied the regular customers who only got the minute shavings of her skin cells. But he also had no intention of sharing his sweetheart. Because somehow, while he’d been busy nibbling at her ears and sucking at her toes, Mitchie had stolen away with Kip’s heart.

“Christmas is just a couple days away,” she said after one morning’s lunch rush.

“Are you expecting a gift?”

“You said you’d only stay through Christmas Eve. I was just wondering if I’d have to put up the Help Wanted sign?”

Kip put his hand on her shoulder, then snaked his pinky finger under the sleeve to get a contact high. “I couldn’t leave if I tried.”

Kip pressed his lips to hers and drank directly from the well. A few cleared throats and catcalls from the waiting tables broke them apart. None of the customers seemed surprised at their union. They carried on as though it were inevitable. It seemed as long as they could share in the small piece of her they got in their food, they were content.

“There’s something new on the menu,” said the owl when Kip stopped by to refill his coffee mug. “About a half dozen buns in the oven.”

Kip froze. “What are you talking about?”

“Do you want me to be crude?”

Kip turned to watch Mitchie as she served a group of bumblebees. They leaned in and sniffed her when she wasn’t looking. Her hips weren’t protruding. She looked as slender as ever.

“That’s not possible,” he said. “It’s the dead of winter.”

“She’s part human. It doesn’t work the way it would normally.”

Could it be? Kip had been so preoccupied with tasting every part of her that he hadn’t paid attention to what might be happening inside of her. Kip inhaled, and he smelled it too. The sweet smell of new life and he’d been fertilizing her on the regular.

The bell over the door dinged. He felt the danger slither over his skin before he turned to meet the slitted gaze of Mr. Yoka.

“I see you have something for me,” hissed the snake.

Kip held his breath. He kept still, like a cockroach in the light of danger. Mitchie’s gaze connected with his. Her bright smile dimmed with worry as she took him in.

It wasn’t his life that flashed before Kip’s eyes. It was hers. Hers and the children who would be swallowed whole before ever having a chance to taste the sweet nectar of a zinnia or their mother’s cooking.

Kip’s beating heart shoved him into action. He turned to face the snake, blocking the reptile’s view of Mitchie.

“We won’t be able to serve your party,” said Kip. “You need to leave.”

“Not without those eggs,” hissed the snake. “I’ll rip your babies from her belly if I have to.”

“Over my dead body,” said Kip.

“That’s the idea. You’ve already served your purpose. It’s the girl I want. Do you know how rare those eggs are.”

Mr. Yoka flashed his fangs. Kip reached over to the nearest pie on the counter, grabbing a carving knife. But before he could brandish the weapon, the snake flicked out his tongue. The knife clattered to the floor leaving Kip defenseless.

The snake rattled and shimmered. His skin went dark and scaly as the change took him.

Kip wasn’t looking directly at Mitchie, but he could taste her confusion. Worse, he could taste her fear.

He felt her movement. He knew what she was doing before she moved. She was going for the knife.

Mitchie grabbed for the blade and put herself in front of her customers. Kip let lose his wings and put himself between Mitchie and the snake. Her confusion and fear increased, but she held her ground.

“This is a place for community,” she said. “Whatever you are isn’t welcome.”

The snake hissed a chuckle. “Your children are bound to be spicy. I’ll make an entire meal out of them with a side of bumblebee.”

The snake opened his mouth to spit his venom. Kip spread his wings wide to protect Mitchie and he caught the venom with his wing.

Poison met poison. The acid burned him from the tip of his wing down to the roots in his back. He’d saved Mitchie, but for how long.

He sank down on one knee. He was dying, but the reptile was still alive. He tried to stand but the weight of his poisoned wing weighed him down. He would be fodder in the field as other prey trampled him to run for their lives.

But no one was trying to head out the door. Instead, the insects had all shifted into their true form. They were all standing at Mitchie’s back, poised on the balls of their many feet as though they were ready to charge.

Kip glanced up at the snake. Mr. Yoka’s confident grin had slipped a few degrees. He slithered back a step, but was met with the form of Mr. Bundy and his wide, predatory smile.

Kip assumed that the owl took the first bite. What he heard next was a sound that had terrified him in his youth. It was the sound of a feeding frenzy.

But he saw none of it. With thousands of eyes, all he could focus on was her.

Mitchie came over to him. Her fingers touched his intact wing, and he shivered from the contact. Then they came to his face. Kip knew he’d do it all again for her. For just this one moment gazing into her eyes.

“I wouldn’t have let him take our babies,” said Kip.

“Babies? Kip, I don’t understand what’s happening. I don’t understand any of this. There are life-sized insects brawling in my cafe. And my boyfriend is a butterfly.”

“You’re one of us. You’re like me; a butterfly. But you’re better than me. You’re better than all of us because you gave yourself to us. I love you, Mitchie.”

“I love you too. Kip? Kip, did you hear me?”

He did hear her, but he couldn’t answer. The world went black. And he slept. It was a true sleep, not the rest of a tupor. Kip fell into blackness and he dreamed.

Death didn’t hurt so much. He was surrounded by the memories of Mitchie’s sweetness. He could taste her in his every breath.

Breath?

Kip opened his eyes. He saw the most beautiful wings he’d ever seen in his life. They were brown with hints of sepia, chestnut, and ochre.

“So, a butterfly, huh?” Mitchie had metamorphosed into a Monarch butterfly.

Kip reached out to her. He put his hands and feet on her to feel her realness, to taste her sweetness. He was alive. She was alive. They were alive. Or were they? Had they both died.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“We’re inside my cocoon. Mr. Bundy said I was already molting. With a little magic, everyone helped to kick me into metamorphosis. I took you with me and you were healed while I transformed.”

“You saved my life.”

“Heck yeah. I wasn’t taking care of these babies by myself.”

Kip reached down to her hips and felt nothing. Just another difference between a half-breed. Mitchie carried the babies in her belly. Kip sensed six lives growing within. A fierce wave of protectiveness ran through him.

“Six kids?” she said. “It’s a miracle when I thought I’d have none.”

He’d tell her later that this was only the first batch of a large brood. Now, he only wanted to concern himself with the lives currently in his hands.

“Ready to get out of here?” he asked.

“How?”

“We have to eat our way out.”

“We have to eat our way out of this cocoon that’s made of my skin?” Then she took a bite. “Wow, that’s sweet.”

“Now you know why you have such loyal customers.”

About the Author

Lover of fairytales, folklore, and mythology, Ines Johnson spends her days reimagining the stories of old in a modern world. She writes books where damsels cause the distress, princesses wield swords, and moms save the world.

You can sign up for her mailing list and receive alerts and free reads at https://ineswrites.com/ReaderGroup.

UNEXPECTED

IRIS MORLAND

CHAPTER ONE

IT WAS A CRUEL IRONY, Greta Markham thought to herself, that she was stuck in an office while the beach beckoned outside her office window. She could sit and watch beachgoers all summer long as she kept typing her life away.

She’d rather have a cubicle with zero windows than be continually reminded of what she could never have, in all honesty.

“Greta,” her boss Nancy said, making Greta start. “Lunch is starting. Are you coming?”

Of course she was going to the staff lunch, she thought as she waited for the cheese dip she’d made at midnight warmed up in the microwave. Nancy never asked; she commanded. And anyway, at least Greta got away from that damn window that mocked her.

“I love my job. I love my job,” she muttered to herself. “I have benefits. My deductible is only seventy-five dollars. It’s worth it.”

The microwave pinged. Greta grabbed the bowl, only to realize it was way too hot to touch with bare hands.

And then in a moment that could only be described as pure chaos, she turned, aiming to set the hot bowl of cheese on a nearby table. But right as she was turning, she collided with another human. The cheese went flying, promptly coating the nearby vending machines and floor with orange goop.

“Motherfucker!” a man shouted. His shout drew everyone else into the break room, which then resulted in everyone exclaiming at once. The man—Greta realized after a beat that he must be the new hire—was at the sink and trying desperately to get the cheese off his suit jacket.

“What in the world?” Nancy made a beeline to Greta. “What happened?”

Greta ignored Nancy, worried that the cheese had burned the new hire. When she tried to help him get his jacket off, though, he said brusquely, “Haven’t you done enough?”

He said the words in a haughty, English accent. Combined with his light blue eyes, sharp jawline, and muscled body, he was like some Greek god.

If Greek gods regularly were covered in cheese dip.

“I’m so sorry,” Greta kept repeating. “I didn’t see you!”

“Obviously!” he drawled. His handsome face turned into a sneer. “How about you leave me be before you make everything worse?”

Greta bristled at that. It was one thing to be upset at the situation. It was another to be an asshole just to be an asshole.

She had the urge to find more dip and dump it on his head. Mess up that perfectly coifed hair of his. She’d love to see the look on his face if she did that.

After she and a few other coworkers had cleaned up, Greta returned to her desk to find a plate of food. It included some crackers, pigs in blankets, and a few veggies, along with an unidentifiable dip.

Try not to spill this everywhere, the note read. It was unsigned.

Greta scowled and crumpled up the note.

HIS NAME WAS ROGER LANSING. Greta watched him come into the office every morning, his suits immaculate, his shoes shined to perfection. Why he’d agreed to move to piddly Hazel Island in Puget Sound, population around one thousand, Greta had no idea.

Sure, the architecture firm was more profitable than ever. Despite its size, Hazel Island had seen a boom of new buildings going up as tourism increased year over year. And when the top engineer had left for a cushy position down in San Francisco, it had taken a hot minute to find someone to move to Hazel Island.

Greta learned that Roger had left his London firm to come here. As she watched him out of the corner of her eye as he moved about the office, she found herself fascinated with him.

Morbidly fascinated. She didn’t like him. Besides the cheese fiasco, their other interactions had consisted of him asking her to make a pot of coffee for a meeting (not her job, but whatever, there’d been no one else around) and asking her to order him a bunch of office supplies (also not her job; she gave the order to their office manager).

“He’s pretty hot, isn’t he?” said Maggie, Greta’s one good friend in the office, while they were out to lunch one day.

“If you like smarmy jerks, sure,” replied Greta.

Maggie rolled her eyes. “He’s just British.”

That remark made Greta laugh. “That’s no excuse. Besides, you’re acting like he’s some Mr. Darcy. All cold on the outside, warm on the inside. With ten thousand a year on top of it.”

“I mean, you never know. He definitely has some secrets.”

Greta couldn’t disagree. Roger made zero attempts to make friends with anyone in the office. When they went out to happy hour, he always declined the invitation. He often kept working during staff lunches. It got to the point that people simply just stopped inviting him to anything that involved socializing with his coworkers.

Greta chalked it up to him being a douche. He’d decorated his office like he was Don Draper, all mahogany and dark leather. He even had a sideboard with liquor.

Once, when Greta had needed to get something from him, she’d dared to touch a large plant in his doorway. He’d snapped at her, making her feel five inches tall.

No, Roger was no Mr. Darcy. Or if he was, he was Mr. Darcy without an Elizabeth to get him to shape up.

She might get a little weak in the knees whenever she saw him roll up his shirtsleeves to expose his tanned forearms. She might shiver when she heard him laugh on a rare occasion.

She might even wonder if he ever let himself come undone, relax, be vulnerable. Would he even let his hair be disheveled in bed?

Greta had to admit to herself it was hard to imagine.

CHAPTER TWO

WHEN GRETA WAS STARING out the window one sunny morning in August, she didn’t even notice someone stepping into her office. It was only when that person cleared their throat that she swiveled her chair around.

Roger Lansing, wearing a dark navy suit, a striped tie, and a coordinating pocket square, was standing in her office.

Greta waited for the inevitable request that wasn’t a part of her job description.

“The copy machine isn’t working,” he said, gesturing vaguely. “Can you look at it?”

Greta might not be an architect, but she wasn’t some low-level intern either. She mostly handled government contracts, which sounded as exciting as it was. But even after three months, Roger apparently hadn’t gotten the memo of what, exactly, she did.

“What do you think my job is around here?” she asked, genuinely curious.

Roger blinked. “Office worker?”

“We’re all office workers. We work in an office. Which means…” She stood up and leaned over her desk. “You can either fix the copy machine yourself or call somebody. Maybe the company that makes those machines? Just a thought.”

Roger stared at her. Greta waited for the snarky reply, but he seemed taken aback. As if he were expecting a docile lap dog and instead encountered an ankle biter with sharp teeth.

“You’re offended,” he said.

“I’m not offended. I’m just clarifying some things.”

“Was the sarcasm necessary?”

That accent of his made his words drip with disdain. Normally, Greta was all about English accents like any other red-blooded American.

She shot him a toothy smile. “No sarcasm here. I think if anyone’s offended, it’s you.”

“I’m not offended.”

Greta wondered what the hell was in the water today. Or if Roger had finally lost his marbles. Maybe being stuck in a small town in the middle of Puget Sound had broken him.

“You sound offended,” Greta pointed out.

Roger sighed. He even ran his fingers through his perfect, probably silky soft, hair. “This is pointless. I’ll fix the damn thing myself.”

“Good luck!” Greta called out.

If she admired his ass as he walked away, well, she was only human.

BETWEEN WORK, sleeping, and going grocery shopping, Greta knew she didn’t have that exciting of a life. Even as she gazed at the beach and longed for freedom, it wasn’t like she used her free time to explore the world outside.

She usually preferred to stay home, get takeout, and watch trashy reality shows.

As far as dating? She hadn’t been on a date in a year. Maybe longer, if she were being honest. She had a vibrator, and she told herself that was good enough.

But more and more often, she’d have dirty dreams. At first, the other person involved was too vague to make out. When the vague shadow man morphed into none other than Roger Lansing, Greta woke up with her body pulsing at the same time a cold sweat appeared on her forehead.

When she went to work the following Monday after a particularly dirty dream about Roger and her, Greta struggled to concentrate all day. Every time she heard Roger’s voice—that posh drawl—her body responded. Her nipples tightened. She had to fan herself multiple times. She ended up closing her office door just so she could get some work done.

Until Roger knocked on her door and asked her some inane question. Something about the fax machine?

“Pretty sure they got rid of the fax machine twenty years ago,” Greta replied.

Roger held up a document. “The client needs this faxed.”

“What, to 1982? Tell him to get an email account. And maybe sign up for AOL while he’s at it.”

Roger leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. His hair was longer than usual. Greta wondered if he’d missed his scheduled hair appointment. She knew he got his hair cut every four weeks, because he’d asked her for stylist recommendations months ago.

“I thought Americans were all about the customer being right,” he remarked.

Greta laughed. “Only middle managers who don’t have to deal with customers say that.”

“Are you saying I’m a middle manager?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Considering how often you bother me about random things and thus keep me from getting work done… Well, you just might be.”

Roger smiled. Smiled! Greta scowled. She thought of the dream she’d had, when Roger had gone down on his knees and then slipped her panties off, exposing her completely—

“You really don’t like me, do you?” he said casually.

Greta flushed. She looked away, mostly because she felt called out. Or maybe because she didn’t know how she felt about him.

She was attracted to him. But she also thought he was annoying and condescending. How to reconcile those opposing forces?

“I don’t know you,” she replied, staring at her monitor now.

“Yet I know a lot of things about you.”

That remark made her face tingle. “Such as?”

“You drink two cups of coffee before noon. You only use creamer, no sugar. You eat at your desk most days. You arrive generally at five after eight every morning, except on Fridays, because you go to Starbucks first.”

“So you’ve noticed my eating habits?” She laughed. “I can always get you a Starbucks next time I go.”

“You never wear your hair down,” Roger continued, counting on his fingers. “The times you do, you play with it, especially in meetings. Whenever Darren gives a presentation, you stare at your notepad because you want to laugh whenever he mispronounces collaborate as coala-brate.”

Roger moved farther into her office, closing the door behind him. Greta felt absurdly small, sitting in her chair, with Roger standing over her.

“You also know more than Darren, but you never give any presentations. Why is that?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Because I don’t want to?”

Roger shook his head. “I don’t believe that.”

Greta frowned up at him, completely at a loss. “What is all this even about? Because now I’m worried you’re going to start hiding in my bushes and watching me at night.”

“How do you know I don’t already?”

Greta reared backward. Roger laughed, and she realized he’d been joking.

“Fuck off,” she said, pushing her chair back and standing up. She might be shorter than him by a lot, but she wasn’t about to have him standing over her like some child. “I have work to do.”

“Go out with me.”

“What? Why?”

His smile made her stomach flip. “Because I know you want to.”

“Holy shitballs, how arrogant can you be?”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He handed her a card with a number scribbled on the back. “My mobile.”

“I’m not going out with you!” she called back, but he just laughed as he left her to seethe in her office.

CHAPTER THREE

GRETA WAITED for Roger at the bar for an entire hour. She texted his mobile three times, but there was no answer. When the bartender pushed a drink toward her and told her it was on the house, she knew she’d been stood up.

How humiliating. She did not understand what Roger’s game was. One second, he was flirting with her, asking her out. The next, he was flaking out on the date he wanted to go on?

Greta wasn’t even annoyed. She was just disappointed that she’d been silly enough to believe he’d had decent intentions.

The bustling restaurant, Lyn’s Eatery, was a popular spot for locals and tourists alike. The head chef was a ballbuster, or so Greta had heard. Considering the food was amazing, Greta had a feeling the ball busting was necessary.

Greta ordered a plate of macaroni and cheese balls that she’d definitely dreamed about before.

“Greta!” Alexandra Gray, the owner of the local bookstore, waved at Greta. Alex was not more than an acquaintance, but she’d always been absurdly cheerful any time Greta had gone into her store.

“You waiting for somebody?” Alex asked, her eyes shining. A large diamond flashed on her left hand. Greta had also heard that Alex had gotten engaged recently.

Greta smiled stiffly. “For my mac and cheese balls? Yes, I’m impatiently waiting.”

“You know, I told my sister to add those to the menu,” said Alex.

“Really? You deserve an award. Maybe the Medal of Honor.”

Alex laughed. “I’ll be sure to tell Jocelyn that. She always says it was her idea.”

Greta’s smile turned to shock when she saw Roger, of all people, coming toward her.

Alex also spotted Roger and shot Greta an amused look. “So maybe you were waiting for more than the mac and cheese balls?”

Roger was stopped by some middle-aged man, giving Greta a few moments to regroup.

“I was waiting for him,” Greta admitted, “but he was supposed to be here at six P.M.”

Alex raised her eyebrows. “And here I thought I was the worst at being punctual. I think he might win.”

“I texted him three times and called him twice. Nothing. Who does that?”

Alex didn’t have time to answer, as Roger was striding toward the bar. He took the chair to Greta’s left and then said to Alex, “Can I get a menu?”

Alex’s lips twitched. She patted Roger on the shoulder and just said, “Good luck, buddy.”

“Does that mean she’s getting me a menu?” he asked Greta. “Americans are so strange sometimes.”

Greta gaped at him. She barely even noticed when an actual waiter came over with the mac and cheese balls.

“Are you serious right now?” she asked.

Roger had the audacity to reach for a ball. In a fit of pique, Greta smacked his hand away. “Those are mine,” she said.

He laughed uncomfortably. “All right, then.”

“I’ve been waiting for you for over an hour. I texted you. I called you. Nothing. And you show up here without so much as an apology? What the hell? Seriously?”

She started eating a mac and cheese ball. She was so annoyed, though, that she couldn’t even enjoy its crispy, cheesy goodness.

“You know, from the beginning, you seem to think my time isn’t valuable. You constantly come to my office to ask me to do all these things that are not in my job description. Now, I know you were new, so I gave you a pass at first. But in the last few months? When I told you multiple times to go to our literal office manager for your requests? You never did.

“And now, you make me wait an hour for a date I did not request.” She popped another ball into her mouth. “So, is this just like psychological warfare? Are you just bored? I know island life can be unexciting, but you could take up a hobby—knitting, for example—rather than spending all your free time getting on my damn nerves.”

Roger just crossed his arms and cocked an eyebrow. “Are you done?” he drawled.

When her jaw dropped, he tapped her under her chin. She had to restrain herself from biting his finger.

“To answer your questions,” he said, his tone still condescending, “my mobile died. I dropped it and I haven’t gotten a new one yet. I also thought we were meeting at seven, not six. My mother is German, and we lived in Germany when I was younger, so I still use twenty-four-hour time. So I must’ve screwed up the conversion.”

He leaned forward. “As far as wasting your time, you have me there. Why do you think I’ve spent so much time in your office? Asking you inane questions? You realize I know I should ask anybody else? I know that. It’s because I wanted to talk to you.”

Greta inhaled his spicy scent. The sound of his voice sent shivers down her spine. “You could’ve talked to me about anything else,” she stammered.

“Maybe. But I could tell from the beginning that you didn’t like me. Not since the day you tossed a bunch of cheese on my head.”

“I didn’t do that on purpose!”

“I was pissed at you that day, I’ll admit. It was my first day, and I wanted to make a good impression. Then I ran into an annoying woman with a bowl of cheese and everything went to shit.”

“Like I said, the cheese incident was an accident. Besides, you ran into me.”

Roger placed his hand on the back of her neck, and Greta was annoyed to find that she melted at that simple touch. “I wanted you since that day you came in, your skirt too short and your blouse nearly bursting open every time you breathed,” he said.

Greta flushed. “I can’t believe you even noticed that.” She hadn’t realized how much that outfit had shrunk when she’d put it on, and she hadn’t had time to change.

“I told you,” said Roger, his pupils dilating, “I’ve noticed everything about you.”

Greta felt like she’d entered an alternate universe. “Is this you saying you have a crush on me?”

Roger grinned and then popped a mac and cheese ball into his mouth. “Something like that.”

“Um, you haven’t been exactly nice to me. What about that time you snapped at me when I touched your dumb plant?”

“Do you have any idea what that dumb plant costs?” When Greta shook her head, he said, “Over a thousand, probably more now that it’s just added two new leaves.”

“A thousand dollars! It’s a plant.”

“It’s a Monstera albo. Anyway, I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m also sorry for being late and making you wait. Both things were unconscionable.” His expression turned serious. He took her hand and kissed the back of it. “Forgive me?”

Greta had to restrain a smile. She did not want to admit his charm was working on her. “Well, don’t do either again, or your monster plant is going through the shredder.”

GRETA WASN’T sure how it happened. One moment, she wanted to wring Roger’s neck. The next, he was taking her to his fancy house in the hills and wining and dining her properly.

When he kissed her the first time, it was like fireworks exploded inside her. When his hand inched up her blouse, she arched into his touch.

She quickly discovered that Roger did, in fact, let himself be disheveled. After sex, he had such a terrible case of bedhead that Greta had laughed for nearly a minute when she’d awoken the next morning.

“I like your laugh,” said Roger languidly.

Greta blushed, reaching under the sheets. “As much as I like this guy?”

Roger groaned. “We have to go to work.”

“So?”

He climbed on top of her, kissing her slowly. “Do you believe I like you now?” he asked.

“Even more than your ridiculously expensive plant? Scenario: If you had to save me or your plant from a burning building, which would you choose?”

“Considering I could make way more money off the plant—”

Greta poked him.

“I’d still choose you.” He kissed her nose. “Now, how about I show you exactly what I mean?”

And he did show her, entirely to her satisfaction.

Need more small-town romance? Then don’t miss FOREVER MINE, a steamy, friends-to-lovers romance set on Hazel Island.

About the Author

A coffee addict and cat lover, USA Today bestselling author Iris Morland writes sparkling, swoon-worthy romances, including the Flower Shop Sisters and the Love Everlasting series.

If she’s not reading or writing, she enjoys binging on Netflix shows and cooking something delicious. She currently lives in Seattle with her partner, two cats, and an excessive number of houseplants.

Find her online:

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FOREVER IN LOVE

J. SAMAN

AUSTIN

“I HAVE the most exciting news ever!” my best friend, Tate, screams in my ear to the point where I have to pull the phone away for a moment so I don’t perforate my ear drum. “I mean it. You’re not going to believe it when I tell you.”

I laugh, unable to contain it. Tate’s infectious joy is the first breath of light in my longer than long day. Leaning against the wall just outside of the SICU (Surgical Intensive Care Unit) on hour seven of my fourteen-hour shift, I momentarily close my eyes. Right now, I need food. And some rest. And to get off my feet for a bit before another surgery comes in. Being a resident trauma surgeon in a level one trauma center is nonstop.

But I figure I can steal five minutes for Tate.

“Okay, let me guess. Hmmm,” I muse, pretending to give this some consideration. “You scored front-row tickets to Wild Minds. Or your boss finally decided to stop being a dick to you. No, wait, Lincoln is flying you to Paris for the weekend.”

And with that last one, I try to keep all bitterness and jealousy out of my voice, though, I know some leaks through anyway. That’s what happens when you’ve been in love with your best friend since the first moment you saw her freshman year of college.

“Lincoln and I broke up.”

For a moment, my heart stops, only to remember itself and start beating again. Hearing that should have me smiling. It should have me jumping for joy and fist-pumping the air. But Tate and Lincoln have broken up at least five times in the three years they’ve been together, and within days—if not hours—they always get back together.

“But that’s not my most exciting news ever, though, it does partially have to do with it.”

My eyes blink open, and I stare across the hall at the cream-colored walls, my eyebrows pinched. “I don’t understand,” I admit.

“I officially accepted an attending position in Boston. I’m moving up there next week,” she squeals.

Now, my jaw drops. “W-what?”

A tinkling of a laugh into the phone and then she’s repeating herself since my higher-level brain function is officially shot at those words. Even if my heart has picked up a few extra beats.

“I am now the newest OB-GYN attending at MGH. I accepted a position just this morning.”

I’m shaking my head. “Explain.”

Her voice lowers, her excitement slipping as she declares, “I can’t work in this state anymore, Austin. It’s too scary to be a woman’s health provider here now. It feels impossible to treat my patients and whenever I do prescribe or recommend or even perform a procedure that might be considered questionable under the new state laws, I’m terrified I’m going to lose my license, or hell, get freaking arrested. I have to check with legal on practically everything now. I saw the writing on the wall weeks ago, before they even overturned it, and so I applied and was accepted. I’m not the only one. States that are putting these sorts of laws into place are going to lose a lot of their medical talent.”

“I completely agree. It’s unsafe and terrifying for both patients and providers. I’m glad you’re making the move.”

“Me too. Lincoln was furious with me. He refuses to leave even though he works remotely and can work from anywhere. I told him I was going with or without him and that was that. We’re done. For good this time.”

“You’re moving up here? To Boston? And will be working in my hospital?”

“Yes to all of the above.” She laughs at my incredulous tone.

I must blink about ten thousand times before the biggest fucking smile cracks clear across my face. My heart is thrashing through my chest, jumping up and down and not even caring if it feels like I’m now having a heart attack.

“You’re absolutely right. That is the best, most exciting news ever.”

“I told you. Eeek! It’ll be like college and med school again, only better. I have a million things to do before I move. I haven’t even started looking for a place yet—”

“You can stay with me,” flies out of my mouth before I can even attempt to stop it. But now that it’s out there, I realize, why the fuck would I want to stop that. Tate is single. Lincoln is gone. She’s moving here. She’s going to be working with me in my hospital.

This is my chance.

My chance to finally have a shot at being with her. To tell her how I feel, and hopefully—hell, this has to finally happen—win her over. I’ve pined and dreamed and craved, all the while trudging through as her best friend. The guy eternally by her side. The one she could always count on. But now I could be more than that to her.

I could be everything to her the way she is to me.

“Are you serious?” Now she’s the one who sounds incredulous.

“Of course I’m serious. You can stay with me. Stay as long as you want. Stay forever.” I wince at how overzealous I sound. “I have the spare bedroom and it’s yours.” Now I wince again because I don’t want her in the spare bedroom. I want her in my bed, but I remind myself that I can’t bludgeon her over the head with this. I have to do this the right way. With finesse.

You don’t just go from being best friends to lovers overnight. It’s a slippery damn slope to navigate.

“O-okay. Um. Sure. Yeah. I mean, that likely makes the most sense. I don’t exactly want to stay in a hotel, and finding a place online without seeing it in person first probably isn’t the best idea.”

I grin, rubbing at my lips. “Why do you sound nervous?”

“Nervous? I’m not nervous. Why would I be nervous about living with you?”

Except she just said all of that way too fast, and her tone was about five octaves higher than her normal one. A woman who considers a man solely as a friend wouldn’t be nervous about moving in with them. We’ve had our moments over the years. Drunken ones. A kiss one night that I know she regretted afterward. But there has definitely been flirting, touching, things that I would have sworn were reciprocated, only for her to pretend none of them happened the very next day.

Or maybe I’m posturing. She’s never seen me as more.

“Good,” I say. “Now that we’ve cleared up that you’re not nervous about living with me, send me all your details so I have them.”

“I will.”

“Excellent. And Tate?”

“Yes?”

“I’m really looking forward to living and working so closely with you.” I hold in the full force of my innuendo, so I don’t totally scare her off.

“Me too.” Her voice is low and a little breathy, and I can’t contain my smile. Not for a damn second. “I have to go. I’ll see you soon.”

“Can’t wait.”

She disconnects the call, and I push off from the wall, heading toward the cafeteria, practically whistling, “Zip-a-dee-doo-dah,” and skipping along like a fool. But I don’t care. Because Tate—my Tate—is not only moving up to Boston, she’s also about to be my new roommate.

The first moment I laid eyes on her, it was like coming out of a fog or falling into the dream you never want to wake from. It was like someone had finally breathed life into me. A life I didn’t even know I was missing. But one look at her managed to change everything I thought I knew.

She wasn’t doing anything other than sitting in her seat and taking notes. That’s it. But I couldn’t pull my gaze away from her profile. Definitely couldn’t ignore the way my chest tightened in a way it never had before. I couldn’t even explain what it was about her. I just knew she was different somehow. Sometimes you just get a feeling. Something deep in your gut that tells you to pay attention. That tells you this moment is going to change everything.

And in a way, it did.

I didn’t talk to her that first day in class. Or even the second or third. I couldn’t. Everything about her said unapproachable. She’s a million miles out of my league. But that didn’t stop me from staring at her like some fucking creeper for the entire forty-two minutes of our anatomy and physiology class. It didn’t stop me from daydreaming about her incessantly.

I never even knew women like her were real.

But she is.

A woman who made my mouth turn to sand, my heart race, and my palms sweat. Just like now. Just like every time I see her or think about her. The fact that my feelings haven’t dissipated, not even an ounce over the years… well, that makes this game on for me.

TATE

SINCE THE MOMENT I made the choice, I’ve had zero regrets. Zero second thoughts. Not even when my on-again-off-again boyfriend of three years, who I was living with, tells me he won’t move with me. Not even when the hospital I did my residency in and who had offered me an attending position in my last year of residency begs me to stay.

Not even with the massive retention bonus they were willing to offer me, did I even for a moment reconsider my decision. No, I was a walking on sunshine, excited as a motherfucker, woman taking on the world.

Then I talked to Austin a week ago and since then I’ve been a sweaty, panting mess. And no, I obviously don’t mean that in a sexual way, though my filthy dreams about him would beg to differ. Austin and I have been best friends since I was late to our A&P class one day and I had to scramble in and take the first available seat I could find.

A seat beside him.

I thought he was the most gorgeous guy I had ever seen.

Blond hair and blue eyes and a chin dimple that would make Superman jealous. Big and athletic with a delicious hint of quiet, shy nerd. In a nutshell, perfect. My total dream guy. We started talking and then he asked me out for coffee right after class. And I thought, yeah, I could totally date the hell out of this guy.

Until he friend-zoned me.

On our second coffee ‘date’, his friend saw us in line together and Austin introduced me as his friend.

Boom. That was it. Party over.

A guy never throws out the term friend unless they fucking mean it. That’s like rule one in their handbook because they know that means sex is automatically off the table.

Since that moment, that’s all we’ve ever been. He never even flirted at more with me. Except that one time I got drunk at a party and kissed him, only for him to pretend the next day like it never happened, and naturally when he did that, I did the same.

Ugh.

But here’s the thing… I’ve never, not once, only considered him just my best friend.

I’ve been a mushy pile of obsessed since that first day I sat beside him. If he had ever asked me to be his, I would have jumped on him like a trampoline that very second. Our timing was never there. He dated cute coeds and I dated jocks and then medical school happened, and well, nothing between us happened. Then we went our separate ways during residency, and I convinced myself that we weren’t meant to be anything beyond besties.

But now, all that’s changed.

I’m here in his state, walking up to his front door that is now my front door.

So yeah, sweaty, panting mess.

My finger presses in on the buzzer for his condo and immediately my already rapidly beating heart takes off into a sprint. I suck in a shaky breath. The Boston summer sun is beating down on the back of my neck, each second an eternity of a ticking time bomb. Finally when Austin opens the door, I do the nutty thing I’ve done so many times upon seeing him; it’s instinct at this point. I launch myself at him, wrapping my arms and legs around him like a baby monkey, forcing him to catch me.

“Hey,” he says with a startled laugh, his hands on my lower back, holding me tightly against him. “You’re early. I wasn’t expecting you for another half an hour at least.”

“Flight got in early, and my bags were first off the belt. Not to mention I didn’t hit a bit of traffic,” I murmur into his neck, breathing in the masculine, clean scent of him that never fails to send a bolt of lust straight through me. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too.”

I pull back, staring into his summer sky blue eyes. “I can’t believe I’m here.”

He sets me down and his hands cup my face. “I can’t believe it either, but now that you are, I’m never letting you get away again.”

My lips part on a silent, sharp inhale at the intensity in his expression. His eyes hold mine, our bodies practically lined up, and this is it. I think he’s going to do it. I think he’s going to kiss me. His body inches in and mine does the same. My head tilts up and his dips down. I lick my lips, and he tracks it, the blue of his eyes growing just the tiniest bit darker.

“Ma’am?” A voice shatters our kissing moment, cutting through us like a scalpel. We split apart and Austin takes a step back while I spin around. The guy has the decency to look sheepish. “Sorry, but you left this in the car.” He holds up a brown, leather tote.

My work bag. Right. That’s sorta important.

“Oh. Thank you so much.”

I jog down the few steps of Austin’s brownstone and collect my bag. The driver gives me a small wave and then heads back toward his car. “Hope you stay safe and dry.”

“You too,” I reply automatically, only to scrunch my face up in confusion and stare up at the cloudless blue sky. I spin back around to Austin. “What the Sam hell is he talking about?”

“The hurricane that’s coming in tomorrow.”

“The what?” My eyes bulge out of my head.

“Hurricane Jackie is set to come up the coast and hit Boston sometime in the early morning.”

“Um…” I climb back up the steps as Austin drags both of my heavy suitcases into his house. “How am I just hearing about this now?”

“Because you never check the weather unless you’re going on vacation.”

It’s true. I’m usually wearing scrubs and in the hospital, so weather doesn’t exactly apply. I wear long sleeve shirts under my scrubs because the OR and the labor and delivery floor, no matter the season, are always cold.

“Don’t worry,” he says, reading my uneasy expression.

I hate storms and he knows this. I’m like a dog that barks at thunder and then hides under the bed until it’s over.

“Relax, Tate. I have plenty of food, flashlights, and water. We’ll be fine, even if we lose power.”

Loser power. Gulp. “Great. Good. Grand. I’m fine,” I toss out that last one when he glances at me over his shoulder.

“You’re not fine, but I promise we are.” He smiles reassuringly, and that smile can convince me of anything.

“Do you think it’s a bad omen that the day I move to Boston, a freaking hurricane is rolling in?”

Austin doesn’t answer, but I don’t exactly expect him to. Even if he did, I doubt I’d be able to focus on his answer because I believe Austin and I almost kissed. I haven’t seen him in a little over three months, and the last time I did, we were at a conference in Vegas, but Lincoln had tagged along to visit a buddy he has out there.

We didn’t exactly have a lot of one-on-one time, not to mention I was there with my boyfriend, and I think, if memory serves, that Austin had been casually dating a woman here. But now we’re both single and there is nothing left to get in our way… well, other than ourselves and this pesky thing we call an important friendship.

I don’t even know if Austin thinks about me that way. The way I think about him.

If you had asked me before that almost moment, I would have said no.

Here’s hoping I’m wrong about that.

I follow him through his brownstone, up a flight of stairs to the second floor. There are three bedrooms here, and I never understood why he needed so much space other than Austin comes from family money and didn’t even sprout a gray hair when he bought this place for a ridiculous amount.

“I put you in here. This was the room you stayed in the last time you came to visit.”

The room is the biggest on this floor since his master takes up the entire third floor above us. It also has a nice view of the gated-in backyard he has as well as a connecting bathroom.

“This is perfect. Thank you.”

“You okay?” he asks, and my gaze snaps over to him.

“I think so,” I tell him honestly. “It’s just… you know… weird. I feel like I’m starting from scratch. I don’t even have furniture. I was living with Lincoln, and it was his place before that, so it was already furnished. Anything that was mine, I sold off.”

He crosses the room, his hands on my shoulders. “Do you miss him?”

Do I miss him?

“Not really.” And I think most of that has to do with Austin. That and the fact that Lincoln and I broke up close to a half-dozen times in the three years we were together. I didn’t exactly allow myself to get overly attached to him despite the fact that I was living with the man. I think I always knew it would end at some point.

Austin gives me a sexy smirk. “Good. I’m glad you don’t.”

“Me too.”

That smirk grows. “This is your home now, Tate. Boston. Here with me. The kitchen and laundry and bathrooms and TV so you can stream Outlander as much as you want. All of it. You don’t have to ask, and you don’t have to tiptoe around me.”

My heart swells. “Thank you. You’re the bestest best friend ever.”

He frowns, his eyes flickering back and forth between mine. “I’ll always be your best friend, and I’ll always be here for you. No matter what happens or doesn’t happen between us.”

I tilt my head, ready to question that, but then he’s stepping back away from me and turning for the door.

“I thought we’d grill tonight before the weather turns. I was about to marinade some steaks when you got here. Make yourself comfortable and I’ll be downstairs in the kitchen if you need anything.”

And with that, he’s gone, shutting the door softly behind him and leaving me here alone to get settled into my new room. While I try not to think about my new roommate and everything that’s happened in the last twenty minutes.

AUSTIN

I DON’T KNOW what I’m doing. Why I’m coming on so strong, so fast. I nearly kissed her the second I saw her. Then I practically put all my damn cards on the table before she even had a chance to unpack. I’m risking our twelve-year friendship by being careless.

If I’m going to convince Tate to give us a real shot, I have to woo her into it.

She’s never been there in the past, and dumping everything on her head all at once is reckless. Which is why I got out of her room as fast as I could and am now creating a marinade for the steaks. Food. Wine. The two of us catching up…

Baby steps.

That’s what I have to remind myself.

I’ve made it twelve years, I can sure as hell show some patience and restraint now.

I finish chopping the garlic and add it to the stew before I shake it up and then pour it over the meat. Then I start slicing up the veggies and making a salad because steak and salad is Tate’s favorite meal. Outside, the sky still has that calmness to it. Tomorrow when we wake up, all that will be different, and I have to remember to tie up all my outdoor furniture so it doesn’t blow away.

First hurricane of the season and it’s going to be a direct hit up here. Not stronger than a category 1, I don’t think, but still plenty strong enough to do some damage. Fingers crossed it’s less severe than they think it will be. Although I wouldn’t mind spending some time with Tate in the dark surrounded by a lot of candles and her sexy body.

Speaking of, I hear Tate’s light footsteps coming down the stairs. I spin around, a smile already glued to my face, but the vision before me stops my heart and shutters the breath in my lungs. She’s wearing a tiny tank top that cuts up around her belly button and clings to every delicious curve she has, along with tiny jean cutoff shorts. Her long deep brown hair is wet as if she just showered, and her face is clear and bright.

It’s a damn good thing I’m standing behind the counter right now and she can’t see how my cock is ready to stage a coup against my jeans in order to be set free. Because holy fucking hell…

“Wow.” Yep, that slipped out, but nothing I can do about it now. And judging by the blush now staining her lightly freckled cheeks, she doesn’t mind the compliment at all.

“I might be a touch obsessed with your shower.”

I might be a touch obsessed with you. “It’s your shower now, remember?”

“Right. Weird getting used to that. We’ve never been roommates before.”

No. We sure as hell have not.

She crosses the kitchen and hops up on the counter beside me, and I’m having college déjà vu from the sight of it. This was her thing, sitting on counters and always finding a perch. Chairs were too conventional for Tate.

“Can I help?” she offers, swinging her legs, and I’m hit with the scent of her body wash. Cherry blossoms and vanilla or something incredible like that.

“No. You can continue to sit there and look pretty while you tell me about your new position. I can’t believe you didn’t mention anything to me sooner.”

She shrugs as she reaches out, grabbing a piece of tomato from the salad and popping it into her mouth. “I was afraid of jinxing it. I knew once the Supreme Court started in on Roe, this would be the outcome, and I knew in the state I was living in, my ability to treat my patients would be greatly restricted. So, I applied up here. One, Boston hospitals are the best in the country, and two, my favorite person in the world lives here.”

I grin, smacking her hand away when she goes for the cucumber next. At this rate, knowing her, she’ll pick until there’s no salad left and then pout about it later. “I’m assuming I’m your favorite person?”

“Well, my Uber driver was pretty special. But yes, that’s you. Even if you’re trying to deny me my snack.”

“Here.” I toss her a bag of pita chips that she catches and then go for the container of hummus in the fridge. “Munch on that.”

“Aw, you do love me. You even bought me my favorite brand.”

For a moment, I freeze, lost in her words. I know she said that in jest. Her tone implied nothing but humor. But hearing her say that knots me up. I want to run my fingers through her hair and stare into her eyes, and say, yes, I do love you, just to see how she’d respond.

Before I can make a move either way, she snatches the hummus from my frozen hand and pops the top on in, and I decide now is not the time.

“You don’t think it will be strange or strained living and working together, do you?”

“No.” I go to the wine refrigerator and pull out a bottle of her favorite white, opening it up. “I think it’ll be fine. We’re in different departments, but we’ve never had a problem like that before. I could spend all day with you and never grow tired of it.”

A smile lights up her face as she accepts the glass of wine from me. “Good. That’s how I feel too. I mean, it’s a little late now.” She laughs lightly as she takes a sip and then sets her glass down.

“True. But I love that you’re here and I love that you’re working with me.”

“Perfect.” She plants a kiss on my cheek and then hops off the counter. “I was going to go for a walk, check out the neighborhood a bit. Want to come with me? Show me around?”

“Sure. I just need ten minutes so I can take a quick shower.”

“I’ll finish unpacking while you do that.”

Wine glass in her hand, the two of us head up the stairs, her going toward her bedroom and me continuing up to my master on the third floor. Shutting and locking the door, I quickly strip down and then start up my shower. But all I can think about is how she looked in the kitchen just now. And the fact that her bedroom is beneath me right this very second.

My cock has been a hard, straining monster since the second I set eyes on her and if I’m going to make it through the night without attacking her like a savage, I need to come and I need to come now. I have a feeling I’m going to be doing this a lot now that I’m living with her. It’s like since I conceived this plan in my head, my body is jumping ten steps ahead, ready to get in and seal the deal.

Stepping into the warm shower, I glance down at my dick and groan.

“You’re not helping us. I need her to fall in love with me. Well, with you too, but yeah.”

I groan again because I’m trying to rationalize with my dick and he’s just not hearing me, nor does he care. He needs satisfaction and he needs it now. I squeeze a small amount of shampoo into my hand and step into the spray, moving until I’m leaning against the marble wall.

Gripping my cock, I give it a squeeze and then slowly drag my hand up and down my shaft, creating a lather while I conjure up exactly how I want Tate in my head. It’s not difficult, given how she was before I came up here. Sitting on my counter.

With my hand, I push her back so she’s forced to hold her weight up on her hands and I have a better view of her naked. My fingers graze down the center of her body, ignoring her heavy breasts and hard nipples because I know it will drive her crazy. And sure enough, she whimpers in frustration.

I grin, inching in and spreading her thighs wide open. And fuck, the sight of her. So pink and swollen and wet. She’s so wet for me, and I emit a ragged, low moan as I rub my thumb over my crown and slit, only to continue to pump my cock, my pace growing a bit faster.

I’m desperate to be inside her, and when I tell her that, she begs me to stick it in her. She tells me she can’t wait another second to feel me fill her up. And the way she says my name… fuck. It has me moaning louder as I get closer and closer. It’s not even taking me all that long, which should be embarrassing, but considering the fact that she’s waiting for me, faster is better.

Slowly, with both our eyes on my cock, I start to press into her opening until I’m fully seated inside her. Her head falls back, her eyes closing. She tells me I feel big. Almost too big, but that I also feel amazing. Better than anyone else ever has. And yes, I realize I’m feeding my male ego here, but hey, it’s my fantasy.

I start to fuck her. Hard. My body pounding into her, watching how I slide in and out of her. Loving how her tits bounce and jiggle. Listening as she screams my name over and over.

She tells me she’s going to come, and I tell her I’m there with her because I am, and I can’t hold off any longer. And when I come, I come on a louder than I intend growl that practically bounces off the walls along with her name from my lips. Ropes of cum spurt out of me, hitting the wall and practically knocking me to my knees.

My eyes blink open and I catch my breath, only to quickly go about washing my hair and body and get out of the shower. Time to go for a walk with my girl. Only jerking off didn’t sate my hunger for her. It was merely the spark that is setting my whole damn world on fire.

TATE

THE STORM ARRIVED EARLIER than anticipated. It started with wind and rain. Then thunder and lightning. Then some serious fucking wind and rain. Now it’s somewhere near four a.m., and I can’t sleep. But it’s not only the storm that’s keeping me awake.

I heard him.

I heard Austin moaning and then I heard him moan my name.

He was in his shower and apparently there must be some vent or something that carries sound from his shower into my bedroom, because yeah… I was quiet on our walk, and I was quiet all through dinner, using the excuse of being tired from traveling and nervous about this new job and blah, blah. I was a fucking liar.

Because Austin jerked off to me.

And even though I’ve been obsessed with him forever and have wanted him more than my next breath, I still needed a moment to figure everything out. Because crossing that line, well, that changes everything. There is no going back.

It’s not like if it doesn’t work out between us romantically, we can say, oh yeah, sucks, but hey, we’re still besties. Because that never happens. It’s all or nothing from here on out. It’s cutting out twelve years of the best friendship I’ve ever had. I know, I know, it’s making it something potentially much better.

But what if we have no chemistry? What if he sucks in bed or I do? What if we want each other, but we’re not the stuff of happily ever after?

Which brings me back to the storm and four a.m.

Climbing out of bed, I walk into my bathroom and flip on the light. It clicks on and then pops out with a small crack that startles me so badly I scream. There is nothing but blinding darkness, and I spin around, suddenly terrified out of my mind. Strange house in the middle of the night in the middle of a fierce storm and now the power is out.

Dammit, I am not prepared for this!

I feel my way back into my room and naturally knock into the dresser with my shoulder. The sting sends a whimper past my lungs, and I give myself a second to try and allow my eyes to adjust while I rub my smarting shoulder. An indiscernible noise out in the hallway startles me again, and I must yelp because then I see a flash of flight and Austin is holding me.

“Hey. Shhh. It’s okay. It’s just me. The power went out and I heard you scream. Are you okay?”

“Yes. I just got… a little freaked out is all. I hate storms.”

“I know, baby. But we’re safe here. I have flashlights and batteries and my stove runs on gas so we can still cook. We’ll be okay.” He holds me tighter, tucking me into his chest. My ex never would have done this. He would have teased me—as he always did whenever we had tornado warnings—that I was being overly dramatic and a wimp.

But Austin is holding me as if I’m the most precious thing in the world to him and he’s doing it in such a way that makes me feel unbelievably safe in his arms. And wow, is there anything more incredible in this world than that? And he was jerking off to me, which tells me he wants me just as much as I want him.

So I think my mind is made up. I think I’m going to throw caution into the seventy-five mile an hour storm winds and watch it get whisked away.

Pulling away from his chest, my fingers trickle up his back and into his hair. I search his face in the darkness, partially illuminated by the flashlight that’s pressed against my back. He looks worried about me, but with each pass of my fingers through his hair and as he registers the no doubt hungry look in my eyes, his expression morphs from concern to confusion to desire. Yep, that’s all the confirmation I need.

“Tate?”

It’s a question I can only answer one way. Reaching up onto my toes, I touch my lips to his.

His grip on my back tightens, his body turning rigid against mine. “You don’t have to do that because you’re scared.”

“I’m not doing this because I’m scared,” I tell him, pecking his immobile lips once more. “I’m doing this because I’m tired of not doing it. It’s all I’ve thought about for twelve years.”

His eyes round. “It is?” He’s utterly flummoxed.

“Yes. I never thought… I never thought you felt the same way back, and then yesterday, I swore you almost kissed me and then I heard you…” I lick my lips. “I heard you in the shower. I heard my name while you were in the shower.”

His eyes darken instantly, his gaze pingponging back and forth between mine as he absorbs what I’m telling him.

“You heard me in the shower jerking off to you?”

Hard swallow. “Yes.”

He nods as if it all makes sense now. “That’s why you were so quiet all night last night.”

“Yes.”

“And now that you’ve had time to think about it?”

“I think I’d like to know how deep this goes for you, because for me, it goes as deep as it can get.”

“God, Tate.” He drops the flashlight and then his hands are in my hair and his mouth is fusing with mine. His tongue doesn’t hesitate before diving into my mouth, tasting me. He breaks the kiss just as quickly as he took it, his hands now on my face, forcing my gaze to his. “I’ve been in love with you every second of every minute since the moment I first laid eyes on you.”

“You have?” My voice quavers.

“Yes, baby. But hearing that it’s been the same for you?” He shakes his head before picking me up and walking me over to the bed. Setting me down, he climbs over me, his face hovering above mine as the storm continues to rage just outside my window. “I can’t do it anymore. I can’t just be your best friend. Not now that I know you heard me and that you want me too. But I need all of you, Tate, and I’m pretty damn positive I’m going to need all of you forever.”

I reach for the hem of his t-shirt and rip it up and over his head, gripping the strong muscles of his shoulder blades. “Forever sounds a little short to me, but I’ll take it if that’s what you’re offering.” With that declaration, I drag him down on top of me and kiss him. Letting him feel precisely what this is to me. Everything.

Any concerns or doubts or questions I had about whether we’d have any heat or chemistry are instantly expelled from my mind. Because kissing him, feeling his large, warm body on top of mine… I can’t get enough. And it seems, I’m not the only one. My breath shudders in and out as his hand claims my breast with a greedy, deprived growl.

It was the same sound he made right before he came in the shower and all I could think about then was wanting to know what he looked like as he made that sound. Was how he was thinking about me and if his thoughts were as filthy as mine were. It took everything in me not to touch myself while he was touching himself, but I knew if I did that, he’d see the evidence of it all over me.

But now, there is no more hiding.

It’s a beginning instead, a long overdue one, and with that, I want everything all at once. My impatience is consuming.

“Tate,” he rasps into my mouth as I go for his shorts, anxious to push them to the ground and touch and lick and see what I’m feeling pressed between my legs. “Slow down.”

I shake my head. “Can’t.”

“Then I’ll have to make you.”

Oh fuck. “Yes. Do that. That sounds good.”

With a chuckle, he grasps my wrists and extends my arms over my head, planting them into the soft bed. He holds them there in one hand, using his other to side my shirt up, baring me to him. Only he doesn’t remove my shirt. Instead, he twists it into some sort of complicated knot at my wrists, binding them together.

I moan, already dripping for him.

“There.” He pulls back to survey his handiwork. “Better. Keep them up there, pretty girl.”

“Yes, sir.” It’s a half tease, but it still strikes a devilish smirk to his lips. Twelve years of friendship, I know he likes control in the bedroom. We might not have ever crossed this line before, but we’ve certainly talked about our preferences enough.

“Good girl.”

See what I mean.

His mouth slams back down on mine, both of us like the storm beyond the window. Loud and violent and beautifully charged with electricity. We’re tongues and teeth and lips. Kisses and moans and grinding. My legs wrap around his ass as he thrusts up between my thighs. I’m not sure how much longer I can take before I lose it completely.

His mouth drags down my neck, nipping and sucking at my tender flesh until he reaches the mounds of my breasts, thrust up and pushed out for him. Heavy and tender and so damn needy, I whimper before he even gets to my nipples. His teeth scrape up the swell and then latch onto one peaked bud. The clamp of my legs around him tightens.

“Please,” I beg and instinctively he knows. He knows what I need.

His hand comes in, toying with me as his mouth continues its sensual assault on my other nipple, all the while he continues to grind into me. It’s heaven. It’s an erotic tease. It’s making me a panting, writhing mess because it’s so much, and yet, not enough.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve dreamed of these.” He squeezes my breast. “How many times I’ve dreamed of you.”

With that, I ignore his command about my hands and drop my bound wrists around his neck, dragging him back up to me because I need to kiss him. How we got here like this feels like the most natural thing in the world and yet also the craziest.

“I love you,” I whisper into him.

His forehead meets mine. “Love you.”

“I need you inside me.”

“You do?” He exhales the breath from his lungs. “That’s exactly what I imagined you saying to me when I was in the shower. But I want to make you come first, Tate.”

I shake my head. “We have our whole lives for foreplay, but right now, I need to feel you.”

He pulls back, untying my wrists and removing my shorts. He stares at me, a wanton creature of the night as he takes in every inch of my body with such primal lust in his eyes it sets my whole body ablaze. Slowly, he lowers his shorts, his gorgeous cock springing free, and holy shit, this is happening.

“Tate.” He says my name as if he’s having the exact same thoughts as I am.

“I have an IUD and I’m clean,” I tell him. “Please don’t make me wait any longer.”

His tongue drags along his bottom lip and then he’s sliding me by my ankles down to the end of the bed. Hiking my knees up to his shoulders, he lines himself up with my entrance, and then slides inside of me with a hiss.

“Fuck, you’re tight.”

“And fuck, you’re big.”

I wheeze out a laugh and he does the same, our eyes meeting. Softness comes over him, his hand gliding across my cheek to the side of my face. “You’re so beautiful and you feel so good. I haven’t moved yet and I already know you’re the best thing I’ve ever felt. I love you, Tate. I hate that it took me so long to finally tell you and for us to finally be here.”

“Me too. But we’re here now and that’s all that matters.”

He bends down, folding me in half to kiss my lips as he slides back almost all the way out of me only to push back in to the hilt. We moan into each other’s mouths, the sensation out of this world. He’s so deep and I’m so full with him, and it’s like he said, he’s the best thing I’ve ever felt.

Planting his hands into the bed on either side of my head, he starts to pump his hips, thrusting his cock in and out of me. At first, it’s a steady pace. One meant to feel and build. But soon, we’re both too frenzied to hold back. My hips speed up. My hands all over him. He pistons faster, louder, harder, the smack of our skin fighting the pounding of the rain and crashing of thunder.

It’s all I can do to hold on as he fucks me and fucks me and fucks me to the point of oblivion. To the point of an orgasm that unexpectedly rocks through me, only for him to keep going through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw. He moves both my legs to one shoulder, pressing my thighs together, and entering me like this, so I’m restricted and extra tight. It’s so insanely wild I can’t breathe.

He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow.

He fucks me, watching me come apart a second time, and then he follows me over the edge, yelling out my name along with his release inside me. With a growl and a “Fuck,” he falls on top of me, only to roll us so I’m on top and he’s holding me. His lips plant into my hair and he keeps me so close, tucked right into his chest.

And I know, in this moment, this is how it will always be with us. Forever.

AUSTIN

Six Months Later

THE FIRST CRACK of gray light clears the morning sky and I watch as snowflakes trickle past the window. I don’t mind the snow, especially when it’s like this and I don’t have to get up. Tate isn’t so used to it yet. She never had to deal with much of a winter before, but she’ll adjust. Just as she has with everything else.

Speaking of Tate…

“It’s too early. Go back to sleep.”

I grin, knowing she can’t see it from where she’s positioned, her face smashed against my chest.

“Happy anniversary,” I murmur into her hair.

Her grip on me tightens and I feel her eyes open, her lashes tickling my skin. “Um. Right. Six months. I haven’t exactly… you know…”

“Gotten me anything,” I supply for her.

“Yes. That.”

“That’s okay. I didn’t get you anything for it either.”

“Oh.”

I chuckle at the sad tone of her voice and the obvious frown on her lips.

“I was thinking since we both have the day off, we could go out for breakfast and then maybe take a walk.”

“In the snow? It’s cold out there.”

“It’ll be beautiful. You’ll look like a snow angel.”

“A frozen angel, maybe.”

She shifts, propping her chin on my chest and swirling a finger around my nipple. It instantly has my cock thickening, and she gives me a wicked smile when she feels it. But today, I am a man on a mission. A Tate mission, and not even the sexy, naked feel of her on top of me will detract me from that.

“Breakfast and a walk.”

“Now?” She pouts.

I reach beneath the covers and squeeze her ass. “Now.”

“Ugh.”

With a roll of her eyes, she plants a kiss on my chest and then scoots off me, heading for the bathroom and shutting the door behind her. These past six months have been the best of my life. Being with her like this, I have no idea how I lasted so long as only her best friend.

They say best friends make the best lovers and I think I can officially attest to that.

Climbing out of bed, I quickly get dressed and when she exits the bathroom, I go in and get myself together. In under a half an hour, we’re eating breakfast in our favorite brunch spot and then after we’re both full beyond capacity, I hold her hand and lead us toward the Boston Public Gardens.

It’s quiet as we cross Arlington and enter through the large wrought iron opening. Snow continues to fall, and Tate is adorably bundled up, pressed into my side for extra heat.

“Okay, you win,” she says, glancing around the snow-covered park. “This is beautiful. Almost magical.”

“See. It’s perfect.”

Her head snaps back in my direction. “Perfect for what?”

“For this.”

I stop her on the top of the bridge overlooking the frozen pond. With my eyes on hers, I slowly lower to one knee. She gasps, her eyes instantly glassing over as the hand in mine starts to tremble.

“Austin.”

That’s as far as she gets.

“My beautiful Tate. If it had been up to me, I would have done this months ago. Years ago even. I’ve waited so long for you. Forever it seems. I love you so much. Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” she cries, throwing herself on top of me and tackling me back into the wet snow, peppering me with kisses. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you.”

With a laugh, I dig into my pocket and pull out the small black box. Shifting, I open it up and show her the diamond ring that was my mother’s. “If you don’t like it or it’s not what—”

She silences my words with a searing kiss. “I love it,” she murmurs into me. “I love you. I love us.”

I slide the ring onto her finger, already knowing it will be a perfect fit since I had it sized for her. “I love you too, baby. Happy anniversary.”

“Happy anniversary,” she replies, her eyes on the large sparkly rock on her hand. “Moving up here was the best decision I ever made.”

“Jerking off in the shower was mine.”

She giggles, her head dropping to my shoulder. “Two kids.”

“Three. Each two and a half years apart.”

“Maybe.”

“As long as I have you, I don’t care.”

Her eyes meet mine. “You’ll always have me. Forever, remember?”

“Forever.”

The End

Thank you for purchasing this incredible anthology. Your donation is vital now more than ever and we appreciate your love and support for women’s reproductive rights. As you likely gathered from my story, the ability to provide safe medical care to women is something I’m very passionate about.

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About the Author

J. Saman is a USA Today and Amazon top 50 bestselling author who is addicted to Diet Coke, sour candy, and indie rock. She swears way too much (especially after a glass of wine) and has a penchant for sarcasm (or so her husband and children like to tell her).

J. is an admitted lover of second chance romances, enemies to lovers, and the perfect amount of angst. She is best known for writing funny and emotional contemporary romances filled with smart, strong women, and sexy alphas who have a softer side - especially for their women.

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WILLA & AJ

A BROTHER’S BEST FRIEND LOVE STORY

J. STERLING

HELLO LOS ANGELES

WILLA

I STARED out the first-class window as we approached the airport, squinting at the long line of brake lights that filled the freeway. At least, I assumed it was a freeway. The sun shone brightly through the small windows, and in the distance, the ocean looked a deeper shade of blue than I ever could have imagined. I’d had no idea that LAX was so close to the water.

When I stepped onto the jet bridge, the warm air filtered through the vents, and I was grateful for it, especially considering that I hadn’t even thought to pack a coat. I’d never had a non-ice-cold winter before, and I welcomed the change, even though it was a tad unsettling. This entire trip was about making new memories and having experiences. I’d been a shell of myself for too long.

Tossing my carry-on around my shoulder, I followed the signs toward the exit, walking slow as I took in all the shops and people. Everyone moved so quickly, darting around my body like they were in a race and I was stopping them from winning. When I came down the escalator, my eyes scanned the massive area, landing on a man holding something that read Willa in large block letters.

This was surreal—being picked up by someone I didn’t know, my name on a sign as people stared at me.

“You are Willa, yes?” the man holding the sign asked me as I approached him.

He reached for the bag, pulling it off my shoulder and carrying it for me, as I said, “Yes.”

Am I supposed to let him take my things? What if he starts running with all my stuff and leaves me here?

“I am Amel. Mr. AJ sent me. This way.” He smiled before walking out of the glass doors and through the crowd of people, keeping a watchful eye on me to make sure I didn’t fall behind.

We crossed a street, and even though I wanted to stop, breathe in the warm air, and take note of every single thing that surrounded me, I didn’t.

Once we were in a parking garage, Amel pointed toward a blacked-out Range Rover, and my jaw dropped slightly. With the click of a button, the trunk popped open, and he gently placed my bag in there, like the contents were fragile even though there was nothing of any real value in there. He proceeded to open the rear door for me, and I slid into the seat and buckled my seat belt before looking around. I’d never been in a Range Rover before. It was so nice. And it still smelled brand-new, the scent of leather permeating the air around us.

“It shouldn’t take us too long to get to Mr. AJ,” he said, and I bit back a giggle at hearing him refer to AJ that way.

“Does he live far from here?” I wondered aloud.

Amel shook his head as he paid the parking fee and navigated out of the terminal. “Not far. And the traffic is light.”

“That was light?” I asked in a surprised tone because I had seen all of the stopped cars on the freeway. They hadn’t even looked like they were moving at all.

“We’ll take side streets. No freeway. You’ll see.”

I craned my neck, so I could peer out of the window and look toward the sky. There were so many palm trees dotting the landscape. It was just like all the things I’d seen on TV and in the movies. The sky was blue. The trees were green. And there were people everywhere.

“How do you know Mr. AJ?” Amel asked, breaking through my observation.

“We’re old friends. I’ve basically known him my whole life,” I said with a smile as his eyes glanced at me in the rearview mirror before focusing back on the road. “How do you know AJ?”

“I drive for him sometimes. His agent hires me. He’s very nice.” Amel smiled before clarifying, “AJ. Not his agent.”

“Is his agent unkind?” I asked, feeling a knot form in my stomach.

“He is not kind. But most of them aren’t.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” And I was. Truly.

The last thing I wanted was some asshole being the one in charge of AJ’s career and future. Maybe he wasn’t a jerk to AJ the way he was to Amel. I could at least hope for that small blessing, but my gut told me that I would be wrong.

“So, Miss Willa, how long are you visiting?”

“A week,” I said, trying to sound excited, but I was distracted now. And concerned.

“And you’re from …” He looked like he was searching his thoughts to remember where AJ’s hometown was, but he couldn’t locate the memory that stored the information.

His eyes met mine in his rearview mirror again as I answered, “Michigan.”

“That’s right!” He snapped his fingers in the air. “Michigan. It’s cold there, yeah?”

Cold didn’t even begin to describe it.

“A little,” I answered with a laugh before adding, “It’s freezing. When I left this morning, it was ten degrees.”

“Ten degrees!” he shouted. “This is much better. Warm. Never cold. At least, in my opinion.” He smiled, and his eyes almost disappeared as he did.

“Yeah. The weather is much nicer out here,” I agreed.

I continued staring out the window, fancy cars passing us on the left and right. I’d never seen so much opulence in one place before. We passed houses that looked like mansions, gated driveways, and high-rise buildings that stretched up into the clouds. Everything appeared so glamorous in my eyes.

“Did you have a nice Christmas?”

God.

It was such an innocent question, and Amel had asked it so cheerfully. It was an inquiry that would have caused no reaction from me at all two years ago. But now, the question hurt. It ached. It stung with loss and tasted like bitterness. My stomach turned, and I forced back the tears that threatened to fall.

“I’m sorry, Miss Willa. I’ve upset you,” he said, noticing my discomfort or whatever I was currently trying not to project and failing at.

I gave him a smile out of courtesy, but he kept quiet for the rest of the drive, which wasn’t long. I almost couldn’t believe that this was what California looked like during the holidays—snowmen made out of sand, palm trees decorated with Christmas lights, and pictures of Santa in a swimsuit. I definitely wasn’t in Michigan anymore.

“Almost there, Miss Willa.” Amel’s voice broke through my thoughts, and I nodded my head at him. “I bet Mr. AJ will be happy to see you.”

My chest filled with relief at the thought of seeing AJ. Up until this point, it hadn’t been real. Somehow, in the past few months, AJ had turned into a figment of sorts, someone who was no longer there.

“He’d better be,” I said with a laugh.

Amel made a left off the street and pulled around the circular drive, stopping in front of two oversize glass doors, where a man in a suit stood, waiting. “This is the entrance to Mr. AJ’s building. You’ll need to tell the doorman who you are, and he will bring you up.”

As I exited the car, the warm air wrapped around me like a hug, and I thanked Amel for everything as he pulled my single bag from the rear and wished me a happy New Year.

I’d forgotten all about that. And I was going to be with AJ for it.

SHE’S HERE

AJ

I WATCHED her for a minute before I went outside to get her. Her long brown hair was blowing in the breeze, and she stood, staring up at my high-rise apartment building, her mouth slightly ajar. I wasn’t sure what was running through her mind, but I couldn’t wait to ask.

It had been way too long since I’d last seen her. I’d thought I knew what missing her felt like before now, but I’d been wrong. The weight of my decisions came crashing down on top of me. I was surprised I could still stand under it all.

The second I stepped out of the lobby doors, she whipped her head to the side, her eyes catching mine and holding. She dropped her bag and practically sprinted to me. I hadn’t been expecting that kind of excitement from her, but I’d take it every day of the week if she let me. She leaped into my arms, and I grabbed her by the ass as she wrapped her legs around my waist. Her body melted against mine, all of her curves fitting perfectly into mine.

“God, I missed you,” I said as her head dipped lower to look at me, and I kissed her like she might never let me do it again. Even though I was hopeful that she would. I had a plan.

We stood that way, my hand gripping her ass as our tongues crashed without a care in the world. When we finally stopped, I almost forgot where we were or what we were doing there. Nothing else mattered, except having her in my arms, my mouth claiming her like she belonged wherever I was.

Her body slid down mine as I released my grip on her. My dick was hard, and as much as I wanted to hide that fact, I couldn’t. Willa noticed but pretended not to.

“I can’t believe this is where you live,” she said, and her apartment building flashed in my mind, the contrast between the two obvious.

“I know, right?” I agreed because I couldn’t believe it myself sometimes. “But it’s not like its mine. I mean, the agency has a bunch of furnished apartments that they provide to their artists on a temporary basis.”

“So, your agent owns this?”

I shook my head. “The agency he works for does. It’s a huge company. Hundreds of agents. All kinds of talent, like actors, actresses, writers, singers.”

I leaned down and picked up her bag, slung it over my shoulder, and wrapped my free arm around her waist as I led her through the entrance to my building. “Thank you, Marcus. This is Willa.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Willa. I was starting to think AJ didn’t have any friends,” he said with a grin as he gave me the side-eye.

“He doesn’t,” she added quickly, and I stood there in shock. They were picking on me.

“You’re one to talk.” I gave her a shove with my hip before instantly regretting the words that had tumbled from my mouth in jest.

She looked sad for only a second before she recovered. “It’s not my fault my family died,” she blurted out, her tone sarcastic, but Marcus wasn’t sure what to say or how to react, so he stayed quiet.

“We’re going to go now. Bye, Marcus,” I said as I pulled her toward the bank of elevators, her bag hitting the side of my hip with every step.

“Yeah, bye, Marcus,” Willa shouted before giving me a grin. “I was only teasing. Bad joke, I know.”

I looked into her eyes. The pain and hurt still filled them. “It’s not funny.”

She sucked in a long breath, her chest rising before falling slowly again. “I know,” she said.

I pressed the button, and the elevator doors opened instantly. The building was almost eerily quiet, as so many of the residents were gone. I had no clue where they went during this time of year. I only knew that they didn’t stay here. When we reached the seventh floor, the doors opened again, making a loud sound as we stepped off and into the hallway.

“I’m right over here.” I gave a quick nod in the direction of my front door. “Number 723.”

I watched as Willa looked at the numbers displayed on the side of each door before reaching the correct one and smiling. “Found it!” She sounded childlike and joyful. It made my heart soar.

“Door’s unlocked,” I said.

She turned the knob and walked inside before saying, “Holy shit.”

Laughing as I entered my apartment, I knew exactly what she was seeing. The floor-to-ceiling window took up an entire wall and led to an oversize balcony. Even though the view was mostly of other buildings and the hustle and bustle of Wilshire Boulevard, it was still pretty spectacular.

“Yeah. I could never afford to live here on my own. Just saying.”

I put her bag on the couch before walking up behind her and wrapping my arms around her. I half-expected her to maneuver out of my grasp and away from me, but she leaned into it instead. I held her for as long as she let me, breathing in the scent of her hair and trying to memorize the way her skin felt against mine. Eventually, she turned around, leaned up on her tiptoes, and kissed me.

“This place is incredible. Thank you for flying me out.”

“I’d do anything for you,” I said without thinking even though I one hundred percent meant it.

“I know.” Her hand ran down the length of my arm, and when it reached my hand, she intertwined her fingers with mine. “Are there two bedrooms here?” she asked as she finally gave the rest of the space and not just the window a once-over.

I nodded. “I have a roommate. But he went home for the holidays.”

“Is he a singer too?”

“He is. Robby Darling?” I said his name like a question because I thought she might have heard of him.

“Robby Darling? Seriously?” She made a face, and I grinned.

“He’s doing the tour with me.”

Willa fidgeted, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, and I knew she wasn’t comfortable. “Um, I don’t know what tour you’re talking about. I haven’t really been keeping up with things.” She sounded almost ashamed, but I didn’t blame her at all.

“It’s okay, Willa. I’m not mad at you for ignoring me. I would have done the same thing.” I needed her to understand that I didn’t hold any grudges. I’d forgiven her long before she ever apologized.

“I really am sorry,” she breathed out, stepping toward me and wrapping me in a hug. “I was just so mad.”

Grabbing her chin, I tipped it up and pressed a soft kiss against her lips. “I know. I could have handled things better.”

I was to blame too. I’d walked away without even telling her good-bye, and even though I’d tried to reach out, I’d known deep down that she wouldn’t give in. I’d been too cowardly to face her before I left.

“No,” she argued, moving away from the warmth of my body and heading toward one of the couches before sitting down, tucking her feet underneath her. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

I followed her lead, sat down next to her, and put my hand on her thigh. “But I knew you’d be upset. I knew exactly how you’d react. I basically ran away.”

“What do you mean?” She stared through me, and even though the conversation felt tough to get through, my gut told me that we’d be okay.

“I knew if you disapproved, I’d never go. I didn’t give you the chance to have an opinion. I couldn’t handle it, so I left.”

She nodded her head. “I would have told you not to go. And I would have been wrong. I refused to see past my own hurt. My own pain. And for selfish reasons, I wanted you to live in that place with me,” she explained, but I’d already known all this.

I’d had numerous discussions with my grandma, talking about all of those things. We’d both been hopeful that Willa would forgive me, but to be honest, I’d never thought it would happen this soon.

“You left. You moved on. And I was still stuck with no way out and nowhere else to go,” she added, giving me an opening for a conversation that I’d planned on putting off until way later in her trip but it felt like the perfect time. The right moment might not come up again so easily if I waited.

“I never moved on. Not from you. I could never.” If I hadn’t known that truth before leaving Michigan, I sure would have figured it out pretty quick. Being here without her felt all wrong. “And here’s the thing, Willa. I need you in my life.”

Her legs moved out from under her, and she extended them onto the coffee table. “I need you in my life too.”

It was such a simple sentence, but it carried more weight than she knew. She wasn’t getting it. I didn’t mean that I only required her friendship or acceptance. It was so much more than that.

“No.” I gave her a crooked smile. “I want you here with me.”

“You know, your grandma said something like that the other day.” She shook her head before her eyes roamed, like she was searching the recesses of her mind for a conversation she couldn’t quite remember. “What am I supposed to do? Follow you around on tour?”

I wanted to laugh, but hell, that was exactly what I hoped she’d do. Be with me everywhere. Even though it technically wasn’t fair. Her life shouldn’t revolve around me and my dreams.

“I need a manager. Someone I can trust. I only trust you, Willa.”

“But if Davey were here …” She said her brother’s name with a smile instead of a wince, and I felt my body release some of the tension it had been holding.

“Yeah. It would be him,” I said with a laugh.

Willa was processing the little information I’d given her. I could tell she was thinking by the way her brows furrowed.

“Why do you need a manager if you have an agent?”

I’d known that question was coming. It was the same one I’d asked my roommate, Robby, when he suggested that I should be looking for one. He explained the difference between the two and was the one who gave me the idea of hiring someone I trusted in the first place. Robby’s brother was his manager. He said it worked well, but he also warned me not to let business get in the way of friendship and to make sure that if I hired an old friend, they were smart enough and savvy enough to handle the job.

Willa had popped into my head right after Davey did. Davey would have been great. But he probably would have tried to sleep with every hot girl at our concerts, so maybe it was a good thing he wasn’t here to accept the role.

“I need a manager because the jobs are different. My agent only makes money if I do. He makes a percentage of whatever I’m paid. So, he’s constantly trying to book me gigs because—” I said before she cut me off.

“Because the more work you have, the more money he makes.”

See? She was already getting it.

“Exactly.”

“Okay, so what does a manager do?” I could tell by her tone that she wasn’t sold on the idea. Not of me having both a manager and an agent, but of her taking on the position.

“A manager gets a monthly fee regardless of what I earn. But the biggest difference is that my manager would watch out for me. They would listen to me and care more about my health than the money I’m making.”

“I’m not qualified to do that, AJ.”

I reached for her hand and held it. “You’re not qualified to care about me? To protect me? To keep me sane and make sure I’m not being overworked?”

She gave me a look that told me I was being unreasonable. “Of course, I could do that. As your friend, I’d want to do that anyway. But I don’t have any business experience. Not like this.”

As much as I wanted to argue with her and convince her otherwise, she was right. About everything, except the friend part.

“We’re not just friends, Willa.”

HE’S LOST HIS MIND

WILLA

“WE’RE NOT JUST FRIENDS, WILLA.” AJ’s voice reverberated in my mind even though he’d just said the words.

I stared at him, drinking him in because he was delicious to look at, and it was like I was seeing him for the first time in a whole new light.

“What are we then?” I asked, pushing him to define us because we both knew that I wouldn’t be the one to do it. It couldn’t come from me.

“Together?”

“But we live in different states.”

“Move. Here. Then.” He emphasized each word, and I knew he wasn’t going to make this easy on me.

I rolled my eyes and pushed up from the couch, so I could pace, or stand, or something. I had no idea what the right thing to do was. I thought about how Davey would probably be pissed off at the idea of his best friend and his sister dating.

Would he be mad?

“Willa, listen,” AJ spoke softly, and I turned around to look at him even though the look in his eyes made my knees weak. He stood up, and took two steps toward me. “I want to be with you. My heart is yours. And it will be, no matter where you live.” He reached for my shoulders, taking them with both hands, his grip strong, but not painful. “I belong to you, no matter your location. But I’d really like for it to be here. With me.”

I inhaled a breath so sharp that it hurt. The realization that I had no excuse to say no to him hit me hard. There was nothing keeping me in Michigan anymore. Nothing, except my own decisions and choices. “If I leave, will it look like I don’t care about them anymore? Like I’ve moved on and forgotten?”

His hands left my shoulders and wrapped around my back instead, pulling me against him. “Oh, babe. No. Of course not. No one would ever think that.”

Tugging away slightly, I angled my head up. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because no one has said anything like that to me since I left. Everyone has been really supportive.”

“You still talk to people from home?” I asked, the knowledge that he was talking to other people from our town but not me stung even though our silence had been my doing.

“Only in DMs and stuff. They send messages and post comments. No one has ever said anything mean. That would have wrecked me.”

I contemplated what he was saying, little strings of truth tugging at my heart. AJ knew that I was getting overwhelmed. By opportunity, choices, options. It was messed up how losing my whole family had opened up my entire world. I could do anything and go anywhere. But without AJ, I’d be doing those things alone. And honestly, being without him didn’t appeal to me in the slightest.

“So, what do you think about the manager thing?”

Shaking my head, I stepped away from him. “I don’t think it’s a smart business move,” I said, and his eyes closed briefly. “I don’t have any knowledge about this business. I can’t start doing that for you blind. I’d end up doing more harm than good.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. You don’t negotiate contracts or gigs. That’s all on my agent. But you do fight for me, for my time, for the things I want to do and don’t want to do. You stand up for me. You have my back.”

“Against who?”

“My agent mostly.”

“I’m really not comfortable with doing that,” I said, and his face fell. It made me feel horrible to let him down. “At least, not yet,” I added, and he perked up.

A smile exploded across his face. “What are you saying?”

“That I’ll consider it, but I’d have to take classes or meet other managers first. I need to know what I’d be getting into. Realistically. It needs to make sense.”

He nodded. “You’re right. I made this emotional.”

“How can you not be emotional about your career?” I smiled softly. “I get it, AJ. I really do. And I understand why you asked me. Thank you. I just want to do the right thing by you. And I can’t imagine people from Hollywood respecting your girlfriend from Michigan speaking for you.”

The grin reappeared. “My girlfriend. Say it again.”

“Girlfriend,” I said with a giggle.

“And what does that make me?” he pressed.

“My boyfriend?” I choked out. How the hell had Davey’s best friend become the most important person in my life?

“That’s right. I’m your boyfriend.” He laughed. “I bet Davey is watching us, shaking his head right now, telling me there’s no way I landed you. He’s probably so pissed he owes me a hundred bucks.”

My eyes started to water. “Why does he owe you a hundred bucks?” I asked. We’d talked about this once before, but I wasn’t sure what money had to do with it.

“He knew I had a crush on you, obviously. I already told you that. Even when I tried to tell him that I didn’t, he always called me a liar.”

“Why?”

“Because he always caught me staring at you. In the kitchen. In the living room. Wherever you were, my eyes followed. He usually hit me after that,” he added, like being punched by my little brother was no big deal… something that happened all the time.

A giggle escaped from between my lips. “I did see him sock you in the arm quite a few times. I never knew what it was about and never cared enough to ask.”

“Well, it was about you.” His lips curved up into a sly grin. “It was always about you.”

“You know, he never said a thing to me. Not once. Not ever,” I said, remembering the last time I searched my mind for an instance of Davey mentioning AJ being into me or anything of that nature. I’d come up blank then, because he never had. He’d kept his perfect little mouth shut about that particular subject.

AJ blew out a loud breath, followed by a quick laugh. “Yeah, no shit. That’s because he told me I had no shot with you and never would.” He shook his head slowly, the memory clearly replaying in his mind. “That’s when we made the bet.”

“Tell me about it.” I demanded with a grin, because I knew it had been harmless. A game between friends.

“I told him that one day you’d fall in love with me. He said birds would stop flying if that ever happened and then he stuck his hand out and said ‘a hundred bucks my sister never even looks at you.’ I grabbed his hand so quick and gave him the hardest shake. I remember him laughing, telling me all the ways he was going to blow the money once he won it from me,” he added and I felt my heart pinch with the story.

I could see it so clearly in my head.

“What an ass,” I said with watery eyes. “I can totally hear him saying it though.”

“I miss his voice. Thank God I have a voice mail saved from him on my phone. It’s quick, but it’s enough.”

Swallowing my emotions, I pressed my eyes closed for a moment before reopening them again. “I have some videos on my phone. It’s weird to see them so alive and happy when I know they aren’t either of those things anymore.”

Walking into AJ’s kitchen, I hopped up on top of the oversize granite island, the way AJ used to do in my tiny apartment kitchen. He followed, eventually stopping between my legs.

“How’s the house?” he asked, referring to my family home.

I sniffed, wiped at my nose, and avoided looking into his eyes. “I still haven’t gone.”

His hand reached for my face again, tilting it up. “Look at me.”

I did as he’d asked.

“We’ll go together.”

“I need to do it soon. I think I want to put it on the market,” I added before my shoulders grew tense as I waited for his overreaction.

“Really? You’re sure?”

“I’m not sure about anything, but it’s not like I could ever live there again.”

He had to know that my living there wasn’t an option.

“What do you think?”

He took a few steps backward until he hit the countertop and stopped. “I fully support whatever you decide.”

“Then, why do you look so concerned?”

“I don’t want you to regret letting it go. Like, years from now. I don’t want you to be sad that you sold it if you didn’t have to,” he said before his eyes pulled together in deep concentration. “Do you need the money? No, you said your parents had life insurance policies, right?”

I forgot that AJ didn’t know the details about what I’d gotten. The only person I’d told the specifics to was his grandmother, and she’d been so relieved and thankful that my parents had been smart enough to have policies in place. She’d said that people usually thought about those things after it was too late or they continued to put it off, thinking that they had all kinds of time, when the truth was that you never knew when bad things might happen.

“Yeah. Things were split equally between me and Davey, but since Davey died, too, it all came to me.”

“Is it enough for you to live off of?” he asked, and I knew the amount didn’t matter to AJ. And if I chose not to tell him how much I’d gotten, he wouldn’t ask or push.

“I’d never have to work again if I didn’t want to,” I said, and he nodded in understanding.

“Okay. You don’t need the money from selling the house. So, do you think that you would eventually regret letting it go?” He circled us back to his original question.

It was a fair thing to ask. “I don’t know. Your grandma thinks selling is the right thing.”

“What do you think?”

“I don’t want to hold on to something that will do nothing but bring me pain,” I explained. “I want to sell it.”

“Then, we’ll sell it.”

GOING HOME

AJ

ONCE WILLA HAD MADE up her mind about the house—and I’d agreed with her decision—neither one of us wanted to wait to deal with it. Even though I’d just gotten her here to California with me, this seemed to take precedence over all of that. Not to mention the fact that I already had the time off from performing, and who knew when I’d get that many days off in a row again?

If we didn’t go back home now, we might never get the chance. At least, not anytime soon.

We’d spent the rest of that day and night talking about our future, the fact that we both wanted one with each other and how to go about making that happen. I had already known that I wanted her with me all the time, but Willa took a little convincing. She was afraid to leap with both feet into the unknown and leave her comfort zone. Change was always intimidating.

“Were you scared?” she’d asked me that night, and I nodded and let out a gruff laugh.

“Terrified. But I knew I had to try. For Davey. For you. For your parents.” I’d rattled off the list of people who meant everything to me and who I knew would have wanted me to go for it.

I held her hand as we walked through LAX, a few people giving us stares and pulling out their cell phones. My ego soared at the idea that I was being recognized, but the small-town kid in me shoved those thoughts down.

“They’re taking pictures of you,” Willa whispered.

“Nah, there’s probably some actor near us or something,” I disagreed even though I knew she was right.

We neared our gate and sat down side by side, whispering to one another and people-watching.

When the speaker announced that it was time for us to begin boarding, Willa turned toward me and said, “I can’t believe I’m already leaving. I just got here.”

“But we’re coming back. Together.” I emphasized the last word because we had made a deal.

We planned on going home, handling the details of her parents’ house, and moving Willa to Los Angeles with me.

“I think I’ll keep my apartment still though. It’s not expensive, and it would make me feel better to have somewhere at home to come back to whenever we wanted,” she’d confessed to me last night, and I knew she was secretly bracing for me to argue against it, but I had known better.

Plus, I liked the idea.

The flight was uneventful, and Willa fell asleep on my shoulder for most of it. She was still sleeping when the attendant asked for my autograph on a napkin. I obliged, reveling in the moment and wondering if this was only the beginning for my career. I sensed that it was even though I struggled to picture it. Everything that had happened already was so surreal, but it hadn’t wavered or slowed down in any way. If anything, my popularity and bookings amped up with each passing day.

When we landed and exited through the jet bridge, the bitter cold filled the small space, and I couldn’t believe how quickly I’d forgotten how cold it got here. I’d been in LA for only a few months, and my blood had already thinned.

It was freezing. Reaching for Willa, I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her body as snug as possible against my own while still walking.

“You’re using me for my body heat, aren’t you?” she asked, calling me out on the spot.

“I’ll never tell,” I said, and she pressed even tighter into me.

“You’ve already gone all Hollywood on us,” she teased, and I looked down at her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“You will too,” I said with a laugh, and she just shrugged and accepted her fate.

We passed through the empty airport and into baggage claim, where my dad stood, waiting, a smile taking up his whole face as soon as he spotted us.

“You called your dad?” Willa sounded surprised, and I only realized in that moment that I’d forgotten to tell her.

“We needed a ride,” I explained as I dropped her hand and walked over to the man who had raised me. I fell into his open arms.

“I’ve missed you, son,” he said, and I tried to keep my composure.

“I’ve missed you too. But you have to come see us. You’ll love the weather.”

My dad’s face twisted a little, and I knew he was processing the fact that I’d said us instead of me.

“But you’ll hate the traffic. And the crowds,” Willa added as he leaned down to hug her.

“You’re going back with him, aren’t you?” I heard my dad whisper in her ear, and she nodded instead of responding. “Good. That makes me so happy.”

And all was right in the world.

Minus the parts that would never be right again.

THE NEXT CHAPTER

WILLA

HAVING AJ’s dad approve of what we were doing made me even more excited to go through with it. It wasn’t that I’d second-guessed my decision to move to LA, but I still liked having an adult’s perspective on the matter. He hadn’t told us we were crazy or being foolish. Instead, AJ’s dad, Mick, had said that we were just what the other needed. AJ and I shared a knowing look.

We couldn’t have agreed more.

“Are you ready to do this?” AJ asked the following morning as the three of us stood in the kitchen, sipping freshly brewed coffee.

Mick had insisted we stay at his house last night, and neither one of us wanted to disappoint him, so we agreed. It was nice though. We’d shared memories of my family, and he’d offered to help with the house, which I one hundred percent took him up on.

I needed them both with me today.

Looking into AJ’s eyes, I sipped my coffee before putting it on top of the counter. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” I said, stealing a phrase that my dad used to say all the time.

“Do you have a plan?” Mick asked as we loaded into his truck and drove toward the only real home I’d ever known.

“What do you mean?”

“A plan for all the things? What you want to keep, sell, trash, stuff like that,” he said almost cautiously, and the enormity of what we were about to do hit me like a ton of bricks.

I was heading to my family home to go through everything they’d ever owned, and I had to decide what was important enough to keep and what was okay to throw in the garbage and never see again.

As I swallowed around the lump in my throat, AJ squeezed my hand.

“I hadn’t gotten that far,” I admitted.

“It’s okay,” Mick reassured me. “We’ll figure it all out when we get there.”

“Okay,” I agreed, willing my heart rate to slow down. It had sped up with my self-imposed anxiety.

When we pulled into the driveway, Mick cut the engine, and I was overcome with emotion. The entire neighborhood was still decorated for Christmas with the exception of my house, which stood bare and dark, like a blemish on an otherwise perfect street. I knew for a fact that the decorations had been up when they all died, so someone must have taken them down. I was grateful and heartbroken at the same time.

“I feel guilty for not coming earlier,” I admitted as I spilled out of the truck and into AJ’s arms.

“Don’t do that. You weren’t ready. You’re here now.”

One of the next-door neighbors peered out of her window before stepping onto her front porch, waving. “It’s nice to see you, Willa. I’m really sorry about what happened. How are you doing?”

“I’m okay. Thanks, Mrs. Carlisle.”

“I’ve been collecting the mail.” She started walking toward us, a large bundle in her arms. “I made sure there was nothing time-sensitive. All the bills seemed to have been paid.”

How had I not even thought about stopping the mail?

I met her on the sidewalk between our two homes. “It completely slipped my mind. I’m sorry. Thank you for doing that. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course. Are you going to move back in?” Mrs. Carlisle swallowed, clearly unsure of how to handle the topic.

“I’m going to sell it,” I said the words out loud and choked on them.

“Oh, that’s too bad. But of course. It would be too hard to stay, I imagine,” she added softly.

“Yeah. I can’t,” was all I could muster up in response before thanking her once more and turning away, the mail spilling over.

AJ and Mick appeared in that moment, taking the envelopes and packages from my arms.

“We’ll go put these in the truck,” AJ said before disappearing.

When I pulled out the house key from my pocket, it felt heavy and cold as I brushed my finger across it and headed toward the red front door. My mom had been so excited to paint it a bold color. My brother and I had told her not to do it, but in the end, she had been right, and the door looked fierce.

Taking two steps up the concrete stairs, I pushed the key into the doorknob and turned, hearing a loud click. The door turned easily, as if it had been doing it every day when I knew it hadn’t been used in over a year. Part of me assumed that it was going to be difficult, refusing to budge, but it swung open, as if welcoming me home.

The scent hit me first—cinnamon and spruce. My mom always had candles and oils that complemented the season. I guessed the smell hadn’t run out yet.

“That smell,” AJ said as he walked up behind me, breathing in the air in long, deep inhales.

I had been thinking the same thing.

That was before I noticed all the decorations. The house was exactly as it had been when they left to come see me that fateful morning. Christmas spilled onto every crevice, corner, and up the staircase. This was going to be a task. One that would take much longer than a single day. How could I have been so naive to think that twenty plus years of memories could be sorted through quickly and easily? There wasn’t a single thing about this that was going to be easy or quick.

In the end, it had taken the three of us five full days to go through the house and divide things into piles. I couldn’t bear to keep any of the furniture, so Mick said that he would handle it. He offered to sell anything that I didn’t want to donate or keep so that I didn’t have to worry about people bartering over my memories.

We donated their cars to charities, AJ took a few of my brother’s T-shirts, I put some things I couldn’t part with in a storage unit I rented and the rest of the stuff that would fit comfortably in my apartment, which we were currently lugging inside.

“Who’s in here? I’ll call the police!” Gladys’s voice hit me, and I felt my heart pang, knowing that I’d be leaving her soon.

“It’s just me, Gladys,” I shouted out before she actually called them.

“Oh! Did you miss your cats?”

“I don’t have any cats,” I said through my laughter. I was really going to miss her.

“Why are you back so soon? You still have a few more days before you’re supposed to be here. Did you break my grandson’s heart already?” She made a sound that came out like a growl before AJ magically appeared from who knew where, giving me a look.

“You were going to break my heart?” he asked, and I scrunched up my face and shook my head.

“You brought me back a souvenir!” She walked over to AJ and pulled him into a hug. “My beautiful grandson. What are you doing here?” She looked at AJ. “Did you bring me a friend?”

“A friend?” he asked, clearly clueless to all of my and Gladys’s inside jokes. Although I wasn’t entirely sure that Gladys had been kidding when she asked me to bring her back Channing Tatum.

“No. We did not bring you a friend.”

“Rude,” Gladys huffed out in response. “Now, tell me why you’re both here.”

“We came back to settle the house,” I let her know, and she nodded in understanding as she took inventory of the boxes scattered all along the floor.

“How long have you been back?” She moved toward the couch and sat down, bouncing a little.

“We got here a few days ago. We’ve been at Dad’s,” AJ informed her, and she seemed to accept that answer.

“And this is all you’re keeping?” She cast me a wary look, as if the plethora of boxes filling every empty space wasn’t good enough.

“This is all I wanted to keep at the apartment since I won’t be here much,” I said without thinking. AJ and I would be heading back to LA together as soon as I packed up my things.

“What do you mean, you won’t be here?” Gladys leaned forward, her elbows on top of her knees as her eyes bounced between me and AJ. “Oh”—she pointed a finger toward her grandson— “you’re stealing her away.”

“I’d like to think she’s a willing victim.” AJ grinned.

“This is good,” Gladys added as she leaned back, letting her head fall against the overstuffed cushions. “I’ll feed your cats.”

“Gladys, I swear,” I let out a gruff laugh, and she waved me off before lifting her head up and pushing to a stand.

“I’ll let you both get back to it. Stop by and say good-bye before you abandon me. I have issues, you know.” She walked out of my apartment before either one of us could answer her.

AJ sauntered over to where I stood, my back leaning against the kitchen counter. He wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me to him, his lips pressing against mine, saying all the things his words didn’t.

“We should start packing your things now,” he suggested, and I worked on steadying my breath after a kiss like that.

“I feel like I won’t need half the stuff that’s here.” I thought about all the jackets, sweaters, and cold-weather items I owned that were shoved into drawers and hanging in the closet.

“You won’t. They should stay here for whenever we come back.”

“We will come back, right?” I suddenly got filled with anxiety, like once we left this place, we might never return to it.

Who knew what life had in store for us? And as much as being here hurt, I couldn’t fathom never returning. My family was buried here.

“Of course we’ll come back. This is our home, Willa. Nothing will ever change that,” he said before pressing a kiss to my forehead, and I knew that he meant it.

No matter how successful he got or what happened in Los Angeles, it would never be the same.

Michigan had raised us. And it loved us, even when we didn’t love it back.

ONE YEAR LATER

WILLA

AJ’S CAREER had taken off. If I’d thought he was in high demand before, I’d had no idea what was to come down the road. No longer was he opening for bigger names. He was the headliner, selling out every show he booked. The concerts were still technically considered small, most of them at clubs that held only a few thousand people, but I was constantly impressed, and he was always awed.

Neither one of us took anything for granted. We’d learned too early that life was short and nothing was guaranteed. A lesson both of us would have taken back in a heartbeat but couldn’t. So, we moved forward the best we knew how.

Nothing would ever be the same, and there would always be pieces of us that were missing, but they’d suddenly become tolerable. I didn’t wake up each morning with the ache of loss pounding in my chest. There were days when I had to remind myself that my family wasn’t here. Guilt quickly followed whenever that happened, but even that emotion was lessening with each passing day.

“Mick and Gladys land in two hours,” I said as soon as AJ wrapped his arms around me from behind. I leaned my head against his chest and closed my eyes.

“I’m sorry I can’t go with you to pick them up.”

He had already apologized a hundred times, but being a famous musician meant that he had an insane schedule. Even though his shows were in the evening, there were still sound checks, mic checks, and AJ liked to get familiar with an event space before anyone else was in it. He liked to see all the places where his fans might be, so he could give them attention and make them feel as special as they made him feel.

He was damn good at his job.

And he was only getting better.

I turned around to face him, the breeze at my back. “Stop apologizing. We’ll see you at the show tonight.”

While I’d been dealing with the paperwork regarding the sale of my family home, AJ had been working on securing us one of our own in Santa Monica. He’d gotten us a condo that faced the water, had a balcony that I sat on more often than not, with an extra room for guests. It was a ridiculous amount of money, but since neither one of us was struggling financially, it was totally worth it.

“I can’t wait.” He smiled, and I knew exactly how he felt.

Mick and Gladys were the only family we had now, and it sucked, being thousands of miles away from them. We kept trying to get them both to move out here, but they refused to budge. Gladys kept talking about my nonexistent cats, and Mick would never leave Michigan. We understood, of course, but we still continued to ask.

“I’d better go,” he said before giving me a look.

“I know that look,” I teased.

He glanced down at the watch on his wrist and waggled his eyebrows. “I can go after.”

“After what?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“After this.” He reached for me, pulled me hard against him, and pressed a kiss against my mouth, his tongue hot and wet.

This wasn’t going to be slow or sweet. There wasn’t enough time for that, and my boyfriend was far too turned on.

I fell into him, willing to give him whatever he craved because I adored this person without even trying. Loving AJ was as natural as breathing. And being loved by him was what romance novels and movies were made of. And it was my life.

We lay together on the living room rug, having barely moved off of the balcony, our breaths racing as AJ pushed up on one arm.

“Okay. Now, I really need to go. I’ll see you tonight. I love you so damn much.”

“I love you too,” I said before he pressed a kiss to my lips and hopped up, reaching for his discarded clothes and pulling them back on.

AJ and I had fallen into such an easy routine of being together. Even though fame definitely had its challenges and women were vying for his attention all the time, I’d never once felt threatened. I knew that we had something no one else could touch regardless of our ages.

He and I were a team. Everything and everyone else were on the peripheral end of our bond. You could try to break us, but it wasn’t ever going to happen.

And as annoying as it had been at first, AJ had been right about the managing part of his career. He needed a manager. And it had to be me my technical inexperience be dammed.

“No one else will care about my future the way you will,” he’d said once we finally got settled.

“But what if I’m too close? Everything about you will be too personal for me. I won’t be able to separate the business from the personal,” I’d argued, but in the end, I’d agreed to meet with a couple of managers of musicians, like I’d originally promised to do.

Apparently, a manager’s job was to look out for their client’s best interests, and they were the one person who told the agent no when their client didn’t want to do something. Managers didn’t negotiate any of the deals, and so I wouldn’t have to learn any entertainment paperwork or SAG scale rates. Basically, I was a glorified middleman, taking the stress off of AJ’s shoulders when it came to things like tour dates, locations, scheduling, and possible opportunities. Everything his agent received went through me, to AJ, and then back again with an answer.

I had been nervous at first to tell AJ yes, but he forced me to at least try. He said that if I hated it or it wasn’t working out, I could stop, but I was the only person on the planet he truly trusted. And honestly, if our situations were reversed, I would do the same thing with him.

To my surprise, I actually loved handling all of the details, organizing chaotic schedules, and being involved in AJ’s career and his future. If I wasn’t a part of it all in that way, I would have been on the outside, tagging along and following my boyfriend around to all his gigs. At least this way, I felt more useful and like I was actually contributing. I was at all of his events because I belonged there.

WE ARRIVED at the club on Sunset Boulevard at promptly six o’clock. The show wasn’t for another two hours, but I wanted Mick and Gladys to be able to see AJ before he performed and get comfortable. There was already a line outside.

“All of these girls are here for him?” Gladys asked, her voice a little surprised.

“Yep,” I said as I linked my arm through hers and walked up to the door, knocking hard.

Gladys peered behind us before making an annoyed sound. “There’s no men here. How am I supposed to find a boyfriend if no men come to his shows?”

Mick shook his head. “Ma!”

“Don’t Ma me. A woman has needs,” she added, and Mick covered his face with his hand while I tried not to laugh.

The heavy door swung open, and a familiar face appeared.

One of the roadies, Marcellus, grinned wide. “Willa!”

“Hi! This is AJ’s dad and grandmother.”

Marcellus stepped aside, holding the door open for us as we walked through it and into the dimly lit space. “It’s so nice to meet you both. AJ is a really great kid.”

Mick smiled and shook his hand. “Thanks for saying that.”

“I mean it,” Marcellus said before waving for us to follow him. “Come on. I’ll bring you to him.”

We walked through tables and chairs, weaving our way through the red leather booths until we reached a back door that led to a long, narrow hallway with multiple doors painted black with chipped paint. The air felt heavy, thick with nostalgia and the aura of musicians who had come before. The energy was unreal.

Packing the walls were framed photos, some of them signed, of bands like Nirvana, No Doubt, The Rolling Stones, The Doors, The Police, Guns N’ Roses, and so many more. Marcellus stopped in front of one of the doors and knocked before AJ’s voice rang out.

“Come in.”

We stepped through the threshold and into a room that was filled with multiple makeup mirrors and chairs. The woman messing with AJ’s hair stopped and said she’d give us space before leaving us alone. AJ hopped up, the smile on his face all consuming, as he practically ran to his dad and hugged him.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he said before turning his attention to Gladys.

“There are no men outside.” She thumbed toward the door, a small snarl on her face.

“Sorry about that. My music doesn’t really appeal to them,” he explained before looking at me.

“It doesn’t make any sense. Plenty of men liked Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin. Why wouldn’t they like your sappy shit?”

“Ma!” Mick shouted before Gladys swatted his shoulder.

“Stop yelling at me. I’m just asking,” she complained.

AJ shrugged. “It’s a different time now, I guess.”

“They’re all stupid, is what I’m hearing,” she said and moved toward one of the makeup chairs before sitting in it. “Think your lady will make me pretty for the show? Maybe Channing Tatum will show up after all. I need to look my best.”

I pressed my lips together to stop the laugh that wanted out, but I found myself doubling over and letting it out instead. Mick and AJ quickly joined in as Gladys looked at us all like we were insane.

And now, with the four of us together in this historical venue, looking forward to watching AJ perform in front of four thousand screaming fans who were waiting outside to come in, it all felt right. All the pieces of our lives, especially the broken ones, had led us here, to this moment. There had been tremendous pain to get to this point, but there was also grace and gratefulness. I was currently filled with both.

And as a chill passed through me, causing me to gasp audibly, my eyes started to water as I was overcome with emotion. When AJ’s gaze met mine, I knew he was thinking about my brother the same way that I was.

I closed the distance between us before pressing a kiss to his cheek. “He’s here,” I whispered in his ear, and AJ nodded in understanding, his eyes misting over as well.

“I know.”

“Think he’s grossed out that we’re together?”

His lips cocked up in a smirk. “I think he’s never been happier for us,” he said, and I chose to agree with him.

I believed that my family was watching over us, cheering us on and rooting for our success in every way. They would have wanted me and AJ to be happy and in love, and I liked to think they would have been overjoyed that we’d found it in one another … even if it had surprised them at first, the way it had me.

You see, life was filled with so many parts that we couldn’t control. And of course, there would always be things we wished we could go back and change or stop from happening completely. But that wasn’t how it worked. Life was about moving forward, no matter how impossible that sometimes felt.

Time continued to pass by the second, not caring if you needed it to stop so that you could catch your breath or not. It paused for no one and nothing.

And I’d finally understood that by doing so, it had done me a favor.

It had forced me through the pain so that I could come out the other side.

“For as long as I live, I will spend my days and nights loving you,” AJ had confessed quietly to me one afternoon, and it had since become our motto.

He had surprised me the other day by getting the words tattooed on his arm, and I looked at it now, the ink still dark and fresh as I drank in its meaning.

Of course, I would choose to have my family back in a heartbeat if that were a possibility, but it wasn’t. And in the wake of their loss, I’d been given the most unexpected gift.

A love I could have only dreamed of.

A love I would never let go of.

A love that would last as long as we both lived.

THE END

About the Author

Jenn Sterling is a Southern California native who loves writing stories from the heart. Every story she tells has pieces of her truth in it, as well as her life experience. She has her bachelor’s degree in Radio/TV/Film and has worked in the entertainment industry the majority of her life before she started writing. She has one son, Blake, who plays professional baseball.

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ALWAYS YOU

BONUS STORY FROM THE INTO THE FIRE SERIES

J.H. CROIX

CHAPTER ONE

MAISIE

I BRUSHED an errant curl off my forehead as I hurried down the hallway. My son was crying and hiccupping. Rushing into the room, I stopped by Max’s bed. His crying ceased immediately as he looked up at me, his big green eyes visible in the light from the hallway.

“I want Daddy,” he announced firmly, almost as if he were my supervisor at a job.

Sliding my hips onto the bed beside him, I rested my hand between his shoulder blades and moved it in a soothing circle. “I know you do, sweetie. Daddy will be home soon.”

I surreptitiously leaned to the side, glancing into the plastic wastebasket positioned strategically beside the bed. No vomit. “Hooray for small favors,” I silently cheered.

Max curled his small hands into fists and rubbed his eyes before taking a deep breath and letting it out in a sigh. “I want Daddy,” my five-year-old son repeated.

My heart gave a sharp twist in my chest. I missed Beck. I always missed him when he was gone. As a hotshot firefighter, he was often gone during fire season, usually for weeks at a time. Seeing as I was the main dispatcher at Willow Brook Fire & Rescue in Willow Brook, Alaska, I was well-acquainted with the life and times of living with a hotshot firefighter.

“When is soon?” our son pressed.

I looked over at him, my heart feeling squeezed as if clenched by a fist. Max was our first child together, and he looked so much like Beck that sometimes it took my breath away. Max’s dark curls were messy and a little sweaty. I reached over with my other hand, brushing them off his forehead while covertly checking for a fever with the back of my hand.

“Today is Wednesday, and he’ll be home on Sunday,” I replied.

“Can you call him and tell him to come home sooner?”

If only I could, I thought to myself.

I smiled softly at our little boy, my hand dropping away from his curls as I shook my head. “He won’t even get the call, but he’s due home Sunday. It looks like you’re already feeling better. Maybe a little?” I held up my hand with a tiny gap between my thumb and forefinger.

Max’s head dipped down, his chin falling to his chest as he stared dejectedly at the floor. “I guess so,” he mumbled. “I haven’t thrown up since this morning.”

“I think you’re getting to the other side of feeling so yucky.”

My son eyed me suspiciously and then let out another sigh, this one sounding as if he was an old man who’d been waiting forever. “Can you tuck me in?”

“Why don’t you take a quick trip to the bathroom first?”

He studied me doubtfully before he shimmied his hips off the bed and trotted down the hallway. A moment later, I heard a stream of urine hitting the toilet, followed by a flush. I waited, seeing if he’d remember to wash his hands. He almost forgot. I heard his feet start coming out of the doorway and down toward his room before he reversed his steps and turned on the faucet, calling, “I’m washing!”

After I tucked him in and sat beside him for a few minutes until his breathing settled into that of a sleeping boy, I tiptoed down the hallway to check on Carol. She was a year younger than Max and had been such a good sleeper since she’d been born.

Peering into her room, I curled my lips into a smile. She had one arm flung above her head on her pillow and one leg kicked out from under the covers — always. She was sound asleep.

I returned to the bedroom I shared with Beck, climbing in and tucking the covers around me. I rolled onto my side, my eyes sliding over his empty pillow.

“I miss you,” I whispered into the darkness.

I did miss him. Parenting two small children was a shit ton of work. There was no other way to slice that. Beck was incredibly helpful when he was home, and I never took it for granted because I knew what it was like when he wasn’t here.

Of late, though, a sense of uncertainty had started to unspool inside me. We’d gone through the hardest challenge of our marriage recently, and it felt as if we couldn’t find our way back into our groove. I’d read about these things. How after the rush of babyhood and the frantic madness of chasing after more than one toddler settled down, life as a couple could start to feel, well, stale. I felt like I was always tired. I was usually tired.

Beck was too. He had a beyond challenging job. But his playfulness and flirtatiousness with me had started to fade. I tried to tell myself it was all in my head, but I knew better.

Before Beck and I had gotten serious, my nickname for him had been Fun-time Fireman. He came by it honestly because he flirted with everyone and everything. The man was just as likely to flirt with an elderly grandfather as he was with an attractive woman.

I hated the sneaking suspicion that I’d been foolish to think I could hold his attention for that long. I rolled over onto my back, clenching my teeth and trying to kick my insecurities away. Old habits die hard and all that. My childhood had been one of instability and uncertainty. I thought I’d hit the jackpot when I inherited my grandmother’s house and even got her job as a dispatcher at the local fire and police station. Marrying Beck had me wondering if I was asking too much from the universe. Then we had two healthy babies. That seemed like an extravagance.

“Shut up, Maisie,” I mumbled in the darkness. “You’re just making things up to worry about.”

Maybe I was, but once worries started chasing in my thoughts, they just kept circling like an obnoxious squirrel.

CHAPTER TWO

MAISIE

“BABE, I don’t have time for breakfast here,” Beck said as he stepped out of the shower.

I glanced over from where I stood in front of the mirror. My breath hitched, and my heart rate kicked a little faster. Maybe I was worried about things getting a little stale, but my hormones would never tire of a quick look at Beck Steele.

His muscled chest glistened with drops of water rolling off it as he snagged a towel from the towel rack. His black curls were damp and his green eyes bright as he glanced over at me.

“Okay,” I said because he seemed to be expecting a response.

In a flash, he was dressed, his delectable chest disappearing behind a T-shirt. He was buttoning his jeans when he stopped behind me where I remained in front of the mirror.

He looped his arms around my waist and leaned down, hooking his chin over my shoulder. “You okay?”

Our eyes met in the mirror, and I nodded. “Yeah. Just a little tired.” I angled to look up at him, adding, “I’m glad you’re home.”

He dipped his head, pressing a quick kiss on my cheek as he stepped back. “And I’m glad to be here.”

After he left the room, I shook my head, forcing myself to untie the belt to my robe and turn on the shower. I was still fighting fatigue. After Max had gotten over his stomach bug, he’d passed it to me and then Carol, all inside of three days. Fortunately, it was one of those quick ones, only twenty-four hours of hell, but my energy was still lagging. Between my own sickness and too many nights of poor sleep, I could’ve slept through a few days.

Beck’s mother, bless her heart, had come over this morning to pick up the kids. I took a shower, my eyes lingering on the stretch marks on my waist. After I dried off, I studied myself in the mirror again. I had brown curls and brown eyes and brown freckles. All in all, my looks weren’t exactly dramatic.

I forced myself to look away and got dressed, hurrying into the station. Beck’s most recent stint of hotshot firefighting had lasted three weeks in the Alaskan wilderness. I hoped he was in for the winter so I wouldn’t have to worry.

I got to the station, only to discover Beck wasn’t there. No one on his crew was there. When Susannah came strolling in from the back area, I glanced over, asking, “Where is Beck’s crew?”

Susannah was one of only a few female firefighters here. She was also a good friend. Her strawberry-blond curls were pulled back into a ponytail and her eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled over at me. “They went out to do that high school exercise where they get to set a totaled car on fire.” Susannah shook her head. “The kids think it’s great. I just hope they learn something from it.”

“Oh.”

My friend leaned her elbows on the counter that encircled me in my “command center,” as Beck teasingly referred to it. She cocked her head to the side, her concerned gaze skating over my face. “You okay?”

I opened my mouth to lie and pretend my life was fine, but instead, a sob slipped out, startling me.

“Hey, hey,” she said soothingly. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

I tried again to say something else, but once again, a sob came out. I dropped my face into my hands and gave in to it. All the sorrow I’d been trying to avoid for months rolled through me in shuddering waves. It felt like a tide rushing in and then flowing back out.

I heard motion and felt when Susannah rounded the counter and slipped behind the desk with me. She sat in the other wheeled chair and moved close to me, curling an arm around my shoulders. She waited with me as I gathered myself.

When I lifted my head, she thrust a box of tissues at me. They were conveniently located on the corner of the desk near her. I always kept them there, not for me—I wasn’t the type of woman who typically burst into tears in public, usually not even in private. But when you worked as the main dispatcher responding to emergency calls, it wasn’t unusual to have someone crying in the lobby.

I blew my nose noisily, balling the tissue and tossing it in the wastebasket. Susannah promptly handed me another. I dabbed at my eyes before finally mustering up the nerve to look into her face and meet her concerned and understanding gaze.

That was when you knew someone was the best kind of friend. When you could burst into tears in front of them, and they had no idea what was going on, yet they were still right there, just letting you cry.

“Deep breath,” she said when I opened my mouth.

I did as she said and took several deep breaths. I finally met her gaze again. “I had an ectopic pregnancy. It was awful.”

“Oh no! When did this happen? You didn’t mention anything.”

I blinked quickly, lifting one shoulder in a tiny shrug. “I know. It happened three months ago. Beck is the only one who knows. Well, him and my doctor. You know we wanted to have another baby. Like an idiot, I thought since my first two pregnancies were so easy, this one would be too. It wasn’t.”

Susannah regarded me quietly, dipping her chin slightly.

“I guess they’re not that uncommon,” I offered. “We were going to do like we did before and just not say anything until after the first trimester, but the doctor knew right off it was a serious problem.”

“I haven’t had that experience, but a friend I knew from college did. That can kill you. There’s no way for a baby to survive in that situation,” she said matter-of-factly.

“No,” I whispered softly. “There’s not.”

Even now, even when I knew I was okay, my mind scurried away from what I’d learned about my situation. Ectopic pregnancies were the leading cause of maternal mortality in the first trimester. With modern medicine, that statistic was shocking to me.

“How are you and Beck?” she asked, her tone soft.

I sucked in a breath and shrugged. “Okay, I think. This has just been a hit, and I think both of us are afraid to really talk about it. It’s been three months, and we’re still tiptoeing around each other.” I held her gaze. “I’m worried he’s getting tired of me.”

Susannah pressed her lips together, one of her brows arching up. “Beck adores you. He loves you, loves you.”

“Loves me, loves me?” I repeated, snorting a little.

“I mean the real kind of love, the messy kind. There’s all the excitement at first. But, in the long run, being there for each other when it’s not easy is what matters. I have faith that Beck loves you. Ward and I have been together for a while too, so I know how it is. Sometimes things feel a little more fresh and exciting, and then after cleaning up some vomit, or maybe tracking dog shit through the house —” Her lips twisted as she shook her head.

“This sounds like it really happened,” I interjected.

“It did!” She rolled her eyes. “Ward stepped in dog poop and walked all through the house without even noticing it. I cleaned it up because he was running late.” She let out an annoyed huff.

I giggled. “Ward loves you. He loves you, loves you,” I teased.

Her gaze sobered. “I’m sorry about what happened. If you need me, I’m here. Do you want to talk about it?”

I shook my head quickly. “No. I guess I just needed to put it out there. Also, fuck all this crazy shit with the politics these days.”

She looked at me quietly. “You mean the abortion mess?”

“Yeah. I cannot deal with it. It’s all I could think about when the doctor told me what was going on. Fortunately, I live in a state where I don’t have to worry about that. But in other places, for women with ectopic pregnancies, they’re waiting until the women almost die. When everybody knows there are only two options, that’s insane. Either they operate and the woman lives or not. Survival for the baby-to-be isn’t even possible. Like who would say it’s pro-life for both to die? And that’s not all! I mean, it’s nobody else’s business. Not allowing women to have a say over their own bodies feels like we’re heading back to the dark ages. Although, if anyone actually read history, they would know abortion has been around for a long time. Benjamin Franklin even had a recipe for it in one of his books! Everyone has a right to their own opinion, but not to force others to live by it.”

“I completely agree, but then I’m sure you’d have guessed that. I told Ward he needed to get a vasectomy.”

I burst out laughing at that. “Really?”

She nodded, all casual. “We don’t want any more kids, and it’s not something I want to have to worry about. We use birth control, but since we know what we want, I don’t see any reason for him not to get a vasectomy. He’s on board.” Her gaze sobered again as she looked over at me. “Are you going to try again?”

I shook my head quickly. “This was scary, and my doctor said I’m at an increased risk of another one now that this has happened. I started birth control, and Beck is looking into getting a vasectomy.”

Her palm slid off my shoulder, resting between my shoulder blades before moving in a slow circle.

“You’re comforting me the way I comfort my kids when they wake up in the middle of the night,” I offered as I grinned over at her.

She smiled. “Same thing. Do me a favor.”

“What’s that?”

“Make sure you talk to Beck. You can come across as tough—”

“Um, you’re the tough one. You’re a hotshot firefighter!” I interjected.

She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. All I’m saying is make sure he knows how you’re feeling.”

CHAPTER THREE

BECK

“HUH?”

Susannah rested a hand on her hip. “I’m just saying.”

“Saying what?” I pressed.

Susannah, another firefighter and friend along with her husband Ward, rolled her eyes. “Ward and I are trying to do date night once a month.”

As if on cue, Ward appeared in the kitchen area at the back of Willow Brook Fire & Rescue, looking askance at his wife. “We are?”

Susannah rounded the table, sliding her hand through his elbow and squeezing. I was an observant guy, and I noticed that she squeezed him pretty hard.

“Yeah. Remember?” she prompted.

Ward ran his free hand through his dark hair, looking befuddled as he nodded slowly. “Uh, sure. Where did you say we were going next?”

It was obvious he was just following her lead because he didn’t know what else to do. I had to bite back a laugh.

“Next week, the pizza place.” Susannah spun to look at me. “I’d invite you to join us, but it’s a date night,” she said pointedly.

Ward’s eyes met mine as he shrugged. I hustled out of there and headed toward home. I didn’t know what was going on, but I sensed I needed to worry about Maisie.

After a short drive home, I burst through the front door. My wife, the one and only love of my life, was standing in the kitchen. She was staring down at our son, Max, while gesturing with a spatula.

“Max, you know the answer. You already had a snack.”

Max turned to look at me, clearly grateful for the distraction of my entrance. “Mama said I can’t have a popsicle,” he announced, his tone mulish.

If I thought I did one thing really well, it was parenting. I was somehow good at it. Nobody ever had to tell me the rule that if your kid tried to get you to give a different answer than the other adult in charge, you never did. Never. That was just asking to be played against each other. Maybe we didn’t always agree, but Maisie and I sorted that shit out behind the scenes.

This one was a no brainer. “You can’t have a popsicle,” I said promptly.

Max crossed his arms and turned, walking out of the kitchen on his sturdy little legs and over to the corner where his toys and books were.

“Daddy!” Carol called. She was sitting in the middle of the living room floor with some toys scattered in a messy circle around her, wearing a pair of overalls with a strap falling off one shoulder over a T-shirt that said Kick A** Construction, a business owned by some good friends of ours.

“Be there in a minute,” I said, holding a finger up.

I stepped closer to Maisie, reaching for both of her hands and stopping in front of her.

“Hey, sweetheart,” I murmured as I dipped my head and brushed my lips across hers. It felt as if a flame passed between us. With the audience of both of our children, I resisted the urge to deepen the kiss and lifted my head.

My wife’s big brown eyes blinked up at me. She looked tired. Her skin was a little paler than usual. I spun one of her brown curls around my finger, tugging on it lightly. “How about I call my mom?”

Maisie looked puzzled. “What for?”

“We’re having a date night. Tonight. The kids are going to spend the night at her place.”

She looked baffled, but, hey, I was winging it, and I could take a hint. Susannah indicated I should do date night, so I was doing date night. Tonight. I was not a guy to blow things off.

“Are you sure?” she pressed.

“Absolutely. You have one thing to do. You go sit over there.” I gestured to the kitchen table. “Have a glass of wine if you want. I will get the kids packed, then call my mom and take them over. If you want to ride with me, you can, but it’s not necessary.” I squeezed her hands, grinning when she cast a bemused look at me before dropping the spatula in the sink and walking over to sit at the kitchen table.

I gave Carol a quick hug and a smacking kiss on the cheek because that never failed to elicit a giggle. I spun Max in the air before hustling them both upstairs to pack a bag for a surprise trip to Grammy’s. My mom was the best and was always happy to take the kids. I texted her while we made a game of packing their bags.

In short order, we were back downstairs. Maisie stood from the table. “I’ll ride with you.”

“Come on then.” I reached for her hand.

CHAPTER FOUR

BECK

MAISIE FINGERED the edge of her collar. Seeing as I hadn’t planned ahead for this, we were dressed casually. I wore a pair of faded jeans that were a little worse for wear and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Maisie wore a pair of stretchy leggings, which I personally loved because they showed off her curves so wonderfully, with a scoop neck blouse. The fabric was thin and faded, and I knew she thought the shirt was just nothing. For me, I loved the way it dipped down so I could see the shadowed valley between her breasts.

I reached over, catching her other hand where it rested on the table and lacing my fingers through hers. “Hey, sweetheart—”

Her thick lashes lifted, her eyes meeting mine. I didn’t like the uncertainty I saw flickering in the shadows of her gaze. “Hey?” she replied with a lilt of a question at the end.

We’d had a rough few months. I’d been trying to give Maisie space. I knew her well enough to know she hated dwelling on emotional things. She was an intensely emotional woman, yet she preferred to process her feelings internally. She only talked when she was ready.

Ever since the startling and frightening news about her ectopic pregnancy, I felt like both of us had stumbled and lost our balance. For me, I’d mostly been terrified that I could’ve lost her. I was sad about what happened, but I’d talked at length with the doctors and looked it up myself. There was no circumstance where a fertilized egg in a fallopian tube could survive. Without modern medicine, the doctor had told me the tube would’ve ruptured, and Maisie could’ve died.

I couldn’t even say what I’d been experiencing was grief because it wasn’t. It was sheer terror. Even now, it still reverberated through me.

I squeezed my fingers around hers, swallowing through the lump of emotion tightening in my throat and chest. “I missed you,” I said huskily.

Maisie blinked, her lips curling a little at the corners. “I always miss you when you’re gone. Max was not entirely satisfied with me taking care of him when he was sick. He said he wanted you.”

I grinned. “Yeah. Whoever is not there is always the one he wants,” I said lightly. “You know that.”

Her smile widened as she nodded. “True.”

“I’m worried about you.” My words slipped out.

Her eyes got round, and I took the moment to simply study her. The spray of freckles on her cheeks, her wide mouth and plump bottom lip, her messy brown curls, which I’d always loved so much.

“What are you worried about?”

I took a breath, marshaling my courage. I hadn’t planned this. On a whim, I’d decided we had to do date night because Susannah suggested it. I sensed Susannah knew something maybe I didn’t.

“I haven’t wanted to push you,” I said, forging ahead before my nerves got the best of me. “But we haven’t talked much about what happened. Are you okay?”

A sheen of tears glistened in her eyes. I felt as if someone had stabbed a spear through my heart, hot and burning. We were out in public, and I couldn’t fall apart. I knew she didn’t want to fall apart, not right now.

She squeezed my fingers, shrugging the tiniest bit. “I think so. I guess I made the mistake of thinking since I had two really easy pregnancies that this last one would be too. The whole thing kind of freaked me out. Are you okay?”

I almost automatically said yes, but I decided to be honest. “Yes and no. Mostly yes, but, truthfully, the whole thing terrified me. I realized I could lose you. I don’t ever want that to happen. I love you.”

Maisie’s hand dropped away from where she’d been fiddling with the edge of her collar to press against her chest. Tears splashed on her cheeks. “I’m fine,” she said firmly. “But I don’t want any more surprises. I don’t think we should try for another baby,” she said quietly.

“I know,” I said quickly, my heart hammering in my chest. “We already talked about that. I’m going to schedule a vasectomy so you don’t have to worry about birth control. Your reproductive system has been through enough.”

We looked at each other quietly, and I felt pressed to ask, “Is there something else going on?”

Her lips twisted to the side, and her gaze dropped to the table. On reflex, I reached over, nudging my knuckles lightly under her chin. Her eyes lifted to mine.

“I thought maybe we were getting stale. Maybe… I don’t know—” She gestured up and down her body. “I have stretch marks. I’ve had two babies, and it feels like I didn’t bounce back well after that surgery. You haven’t tried—”

I squeezed her hand tightly, leaning forward and pressing my other palm on the table. “Maisie, we’re not stale. You’re still sexy as hell to me, but I know your recovery was rough. I was there. I haven’t wanted to push things, to talk about them or to, I don’t know, have sexy times if you’re not ready yet.”

She looked so uncertain. I released her hand, slipping out of my chair, and rounded the table to the other side. I reached for both of her hands when she turned a face to me as I knelt beside her chair.

“We’re in a restaurant!” she shout-whispered.

“I don’t care.” I held her gaze, willing her to see into my heart. “I love you. You have absolutely nothing to worry about. I just hope I’m not stale for you,” I said honestly.

Her lips twitched as she looked down at me. “Beck,” she protested. “You’re totally hot, and you know it.”

I shook my head a little. “Sweetheart, we’re past the way things were when we first met, but we can get it back. I guess maybe I should’ve checked in a little bit more. I just assumed that you knew we were solid because we are to me,” I said earnestly.

CHAPTER FIVE

MAISIE

BECK’S EYES HELD MINE, his gaze open and so earnest that my heart flipped in my chest. I felt raw and exposed and so cherished I didn’t even know what to do.

“We are solid,” I whispered before taking a deep breath. “I guess I let my insecurities get in the way.”

“We all have those,” Beck said, one of his thumbs brushing back and forth in a soothing pass on the inside of my wrist. “Promise me something?”

I couldn’t even speak through the rush of emotion inside, so I nodded.

“The next time you’re worried about us, just say something. It’s always you. For me.”

I leaned forward, letting my forehead fall to his. He released one of my hands, his fingers sliding into my hair as he brought his lips to mine. We both forgot we were in a restaurant because, before I knew it, what started as a gentle kiss was a full-on, tongue-tangling, overwhelming kiss.

The sound of a throat clearing nearby broke us apart quickly.

Beck, because he was the man I loved and married, was entirely unrepentant. “I love you, and if you doubt me, I’m gonna kiss you again. Right here.”

The man at a nearby table offered, “Clearly, he loves you.” He cast a rueful smile toward Beck. “He’s making the rest of us look lame. We’ve all got a high bar to clear when we take our partners out to dinner now.”

My cheeks were flaming hot. Beck straightened and shrugged. “Hey, I screw up too. Take my lesson as your own.”

He rounded the table and sat down across from me. Our food came, and we started eating and chatting casually. Somewhere along the way, he offered, “So Susannah is the one who suggested I needed to do date night with you. Did you talk to her about us?”

Beck was rarely uncertain, so when he was, it was endearing. I squeezed his hand. “Not like gossip. I kind of had a crying meltdown about the whole ectopic pregnancy. I’m okay now,” I said hurriedly when he started to look worried. “Then I told her I was afraid you were bored.”

“Ahhh,” he said slowly. “She’s just trying to help things along. I could tell Ward had no idea what she was talking about. She insisted they did date night.”

I burst out laughing. “I guess maybe they should, then. It’s working out for us.”

My husband met my gaze with a slight smile. “It is. We’re going to do more of these. And…” He paused, mischief glinting in his eyes.

“What?” I prompted.

“Date night is not over.”

CHAPTER SIX

BECK

“HERE?” Maisie squeaked.

I spun her around. She took a step back, bumping into the fire truck. After dinner, I told her I needed to swing by the fire station for something. It wasn’t technically a lie. The something was we were going to do the dirty in the garage. Or so I hoped.

Back when we were first getting together, and I basically couldn’t keep my hands off her—still a problem for the most part, but I was older, and I did have a little more restraint—I’d had her right here. In this very garage.

Maisie looked around wildly, her curls bouncing on her shoulders. “We work here!” she shout-whispered.

“I know.” I leaned forward, my mouth maybe an inch away from hers. “Nobody’s here. It’s late. We don’t do the spend-the-night-in-the-fire-station thing around here. You know that.”

Her cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink. She looked up at me, and I could hear the sharp intake of her breath. My fingers itched to touch her. I kept my hands in place with my palms flat against the cool metal of the fire truck behind us.

As a hotshot firefighter, I wasn’t typically running around in a fire truck. The three hotshot crews housed here shared the station with the local crew. They had a truck.

“Beck,” she whispered.

I lifted one hand, reaching it to curl around hers, and placed it over the thick length of my arousal. I was straining against my jeans. “We’ll make it quick,” I rasped.

Fuck me. The mere thought of a hot and dirty quickie with my wife in the fire station and my cock leaped. I knew I had her when her fingers molded over my cock and slid up and down, just a little bit.

She leaned up, pressing a kiss on the side of my neck. I bit my lip as I let out a growl before taking her mouth in a demanding kiss. Her tongue met mine, stroke for stroke. I pressed against her, savoring the feel of her soft curves and the way she let out these little whimpers and moans in the back of her throat.

We yanked at each other’s clothes. After I shoved her shirt down, I lifted my head to savor the sight of her breasts plumped up over it, straining against the lacy silk of her bra.

“Fuck, I missed you,” I murmured as I dipped my head. My lips closed over her nipple, and I gave it a hard suck, right through her bra.

Her fingers speared my hair as she cried out, arching into me. She unbuttoned my jeans, stroking up and down the length of my shaft. I undid the clasp between her breasts as she shoved my shirt up. We let out ragged sighs when our skin pressed together.

I held her gaze. “Come here, sweetheart.”

I lifted her against me as her legs curled around my hips. She giggled. “Where are you taking me?”

I rounded the back of the truck, aiming for the stairs that led up to a storage area. “Here,” I said as I carefully lowered myself to sit on the stairs with her in my arms.

“You’ve still got it, babe,” she teased.

I looked up into her laughing eyes, letting out a breath. “I do work out, but I wasn’t so sure I could sit down without dropping you.”

She giggled again, and I held her close, my heart beating out the staccato rhythm of my love for her.

We were kind of clumsy, but she rose up and shimmied out of her leggings with a little assistance from me. A moment later, she straddled me, rocking her hips over the hard ridge of my arousal. I almost came right then. She was slippery with need, and I wanted her so fiercely.

“Maisie.” My hands gripped her hips, holding her still. Her lashes lifted. “I love you,” I said huskily, meaning it with every single beat of my heart.

“I love you too,” she whispered.

And then, she was rising up, and I felt a slick kiss of her core before she slowly lowered herself, sheathing me in the very heart of her.

CHAPTER SEVEN

MAISIE

MY FOREHEAD FELL to Beck’s when I settled myself over him, rocking my hips just a little. He rose to meet me, seating himself fully inside me.

One hand gripped me on the hip, and his other palm slid up my back, stopping between my shoulder blades. His touch was a safeguard, steadying me in the whirlwind of emotion and need rushing through me like a storm.

“Maisie,” he repeated.

It took an effort, but I managed to open my eyes and look at him. He leaned forward incrementally, his lips brushing across mine. When he leaned back, he repeated, “I love you.”

My voice came out hoarse when I spoke. “I love you so much,” I whispered. “I’m sorry I freaked out.”

He released my hip, pressing two fingers over my lips. “Don’t be sorry. Life is messy. Next time let’s not forget to check in with each other. And never forget, it’s always you for me.”

On the heels of a breath, we were rocking together. My release hit me swiftly. I trembled over him, crying out, savoring the sound of him calling my name as I felt the heat of his release filling me.

He wrapped his arms around me, holding me close as we breathed together.

CHAPTER EIGHT

BECK

Three Months Later

“I WANT MAMA,” Max demanded, his lips pressed in a line.

“She’ll be home soon,” I said encouragingly.

Conveniently, I heard the downstairs door open just then. Max had a cold. He’d just started kindergarten this year, and, holy hell, those kids swapped germs like it was a competitive sport.

“Mama!” Max called.

I waited where I was, seated beside him on his bed. His sister was blessedly asleep in her room down the hallway. Maisie had gone out for card night with her friends.

A moment later, she was standing in the doorway of the room, her lips twitching at the corners.

“Hey, sweetie,” she said as she crossed over, brushing a kiss on Max’s forehead and pushing his hair back. “Something tells me you should be asleep.”

“What tells you that?” Max questioned.

“The clock,” I offered dryly.

Maisie choked on the laugh. “Did you take your medicine?”

“Daddy just gave it to me, and it tastes gross.”

When her gaze slid to mine, I shrugged. “I agree. It tastes gross.”

Max actually laughed a little at that.

“What did you give him?”

“The honeybee stuff to soothe his throat.”

Maisie helped tuck him in. A few minutes later, he was asleep when we left the room, stopping together to check on Carol, who was still sound asleep.

I waggled my eyebrows at my wife when we walked into our bedroom a minute later.

“What?” she asked.

I lifted a hand, trailing my knuckles along her collarbone and dipping down between her breasts, letting her T-shirt slide down. “You’re hot,” I teased.

“Max has a cold,” she said, although her lips were curling into a smile and pink was cresting on her cheeks.

“Exactly, and he’s asleep now.”

Maisie giggled, and then we were kissing. A little bit later, she was gasping, naked, her skin soft and dewy. My hand moved in a lazy circle between her shoulders as my fingers teased through her curls.

“I think I’m fully recovered,” I offered.

She rose up on an elbow, a furrow between her brows. “I thought you were cleared a few weeks ago when… Wait a minute. Did you lie to me?” she demanded.

I’d had a vasectomy last month. “No, I swear.” I lifted a palm. “I’m just confirming. You’re good. I’m good. When’s our next date night?”

She studied me quietly. “Do we really need date night? I mean, I think we’ve been doing pretty well.”

I grinned. “Oh, you’re stuck with me. Date night, twice a month. Forever.” I rose up, resting beside her.

“I love being stuck with you.” She dipped her head, pressing a kiss on the base of my throat.

I fell asleep not much later, thinking I was one lucky man.

Finding love could seem kind of easy in hindsight. Staying in love was more challenging. You just had to keep your focus on what mattered.

Thank you for reading Always You – I hope you loved it!

For more smoking hot firefighter romance, Lucy & Levi’s story is next in the Into The Fire Series in Burn So Bad. Get ready to swoon when Levi sets out to win Lucy’s heart. “A roller coaster of emotions and chemistry that’s off the charts.” Don’t miss Levi’s story! https://jhcroixauthor.com/into-the-fire-3/

About the Author

USA Today Bestselling Author J. H. Croix lives in a small town in Maine with her husband and three spoiled dogs. Croix writes swoony contemporary romance with sassy women and alpha men who aren’t afraid to show some emotion. Her love for quirky small-towns and the characters that inhabit them shines through in her writing. When she’s not writing, you can find her cooking, counting the turtles in her backyard pond, and running with her dogs, which is when her best plotting happens.

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NEVER FORGOTTEN

AN RH STORY

J.L. BECK & C. HALLMAN

All I ever wanted was a happily ever after, and I thought I found that, only it was with three men, not one. My parents refused to let me see them. The town spread rumors about me, so I disappeared.

I thought they would forget me, but two years later, I realized they never did.

CHAPTER ONE

BLINKING MY EYES OPEN, I try to make out anything besides the white walls of the room. It’s bright and cold. The thin blanket draped over me doesn’t do much to keep the chill away. My fingers are stiff as I move them over the scratchy material of the shirt I’m wearing.

My memory kicks in a second later. The hospital. I had to go to the hospital because… Bradley. That bastard. Did he bring me here? Oh my god, is he still here?

Fear has me moving to sit up. My eyes adjust, and my vision clears. The movement sends a sharp pain shooting through my side, making me sink back into the mattress a moment later.

That asshole probably dropped me off and rolled away while I was too dazed and in too much pain to do much about it. He wouldn’t want anybody knowing he was responsible for this.

“Hello?” I wince from the pain in my throat and the foreign sound of my voice, which resembles a frog’s croak.

When nobody answers right away, I fumble for my purse. Somebody was nice enough to leave it on the table next to my gurney. I can only wonder how long I’ve been here.

A glance at the clock tells me it can’t be more than a couple of hours. There’s so much activity and noise outside the glass-partitioned room. They must have gotten busy and forgotten about me. I guess I’m not as bad off as some of the people here.

But I’m bad enough to be in a room, I remind myself. I pull out my phone, my hands trembling, tears welling up in my eyes. I’m greeted with three unread messages from Bradley. I delete them without opening them. He can rot in hell.

I navigate to the contacts in my phone, hit the name home, and then press the green call button. What will I tell my parents? They were so determined that I went on this date. I know they want me to marry Bradley—that’s what this is all about. Maybe their minds will change once they discover what he did to me. It turns out, I don’t have to worry about that because nobody answers the phone. Finally, the answering machine picks up.

“Mom? Dad? Are you there?” I wait a bit, imagining my raspy voice echoing through the downstairs hallway. Wherever they are in the house, they have to hear me. Still, no answer. “Something bad happened tonight. I’m at the hospital. Please, can you come? I’m all alone.”

When no one picks up the phone, I sigh in defeat. “I’ll call back later.”

The curtain separating me from the hall flies open, and I flinch. “Sorry, miss.” Oh my god, it’s a cop, followed by another one. I try to sit up a little straighter, but everything hurts, so all I can do is lie back against the pillow and pull the blanket up to my shoulders. Not that they can see anything with this gown I’m wearing. I don’t even remember putting it on.

“Why are you here?” I whisper.

The two men exchange a glance. “That’s what we’re here to ask you,” one of them murmurs while the other pulls out a notepad.

“The nurse called us,” his partner explains. “We spoke to the doctor once your X-ray results came through. No breaks, but a lot of heavy bruising that couldn’t have been self-inflicted.” Yes, and although I haven’t looked at myself in the mirror, I’m sure there must be bruises around my throat and on my arms. I look down to find both wrists encircled in purple bracelets. He was determined to get what he wanted, but I wouldn’t give in.

“I wasn’t raped,” I blurt out. I don’t know why that seems so important.

“We know that. The rape kit came back negative.” They exchange another uncomfortable glance. “Are you Thea Price? As in Mayor Price’s daughter?”

Yes, and this will be a messy little scandal for my father. I really wish he’d answered the phone, if only to handle this for me. I know that no matter what I say, it’ll end up embarrassing him.

“I was on a date. He wanted to take things further than I was comfortable with. And when I said no enough times, he…” A memory of last night flashes through my mind. His fist slamming into my cheek. His fingers digging into my skin. His cruel words screamed into my ears. “He did this to me.”

Is all of this real? It feels like it should be happening to somebody else. Never in my wildest dreams would I imagine giving a statement to the police, not about something like this. This kind of thing happens to other girls. Not to me, the mayor’s daughter, the good girl who always does what she’s told.

“And who did you go on the date with?”

It doesn’t occur to me to lie. “Bradley Jones.” I even give them his address since that’s where we were when this happened.

“You don’t have to worry about him hurting you again.” I’m not, really, but I see how they’d think that.

Once they’re finished, they leave me alone, but I’m not that way for long. I guess now that everybody knows I’m awake and talking, they’re not avoiding my room.

“You’re all set for discharge,” the doctor tells me a few hours later. He leaves a small bunch of papers on the foot of the gurney. “There’s a prescription here for a painkiller. Otherwise, you should be fine after a few days of rest. Can you call someone to come pick you up?”

This is all happening so fast. “I don’t know. I called my parents… but nobody answered…” The doctor doesn’t even wait until I finish my sentence before he moves on. With his clipboard in hand, he leaves the room as if he can’t get away fast enough.

Great. What am I supposed to do? I guess I could call a cab, but where would I go? I don’t want to face my parents yet. As a matter of fact, I don’t think I could handle what I know would be disgust from my parents. I know they’ll blame me for not giving Bradley what he wanted.

Getting my phone out again, I scroll through my contacts for a few minutes until I come to the conclusion I have no one else to call in this town. I didn’t realize until now how few true friends I have.

Who can I count on if I can’t even count on my own parents?

It wasn’t always like this. There was a time when I was surrounded by people who loved me. People who took care of me, who cherished me for who I am and not for what I could do for them. Now I have no one, and it’s all my fault.

When I left town two years ago, my parents deleted their numbers, but the truth is, I knew Rylan’s cell number by heart… I still do.

What would I give to hear his voice? To have him tell me everything will be okay. He would probably try to make me laugh like he always did. Old memories mixed with new possibilities swirl around my head. Now that the seed has been planted, I can’t seem to let it go. Should I call him? What would I say? What would he say?

So many questions, but only one way to find out.

With nothing to lose, I dial his number and hold the phone to my ear.

Unlike my parents, he answers right away. “Who is this?” he barks. The sound of his familiar voice chokes me up. My lips part, but nothing besides a scared whimper comes out.

It’s him. It’s really him.

“You have two more seconds before I trace this call and teach you some manners.”

“I-It’s Thea,” I finally manage to get out.

Silence settles over us. My palms are so sweaty I almost lose the grip on my phone. He remains speechless. I’m about to end the call and curse myself for being so stupid when he finally mutters, “Why do you sound like that? Is this a joke?”

“No. I…” Shit, what am I going to tell him? Where do I even start? “I’m back in town. I need help, and I didn’t know who else to call,” I admit.

“Where are you?”

Here goes nothing.

“I’m in the emergency room at Memorial Hospital. They want me to leave, but I’m pretty banged up, and I need somebody to pick me up. Can you help me, please?”

When he doesn’t answer immediately, my heart sinks. I should’ve known better. The way I got up and disappeared on him and the others. I have no right to expect any of them to give a damn about me anymore.

“I’m twenty minutes away—but I’ll make it in fifteen.” I close my eyes, and a tear trickles down my cheek. I still have a friend in the world, after all.

CHAPTER TWO

AT LEAST IT’S dark out here. I don’t want anybody to see me if I can avoid it. My left eye looks the worst, blue and swollen, just like my right cheek. To round up the look, I have a busted lip to go with it.

My throat burns like it’s on fire. I still can’t believe he did this to me. A part of me blames myself for being so stupid and agreeing to go to his house. I should have known better. I’m twenty years old, but instead, I acted like a naïve teenager. What makes things even worse is that I made better choices when I was a teenager. I was happy with Ry and the guys, but I let my father come between us.

When a blood-red Mustang skids to a stop in front of the bench, I’m sure it must be a mistake. Someone who’s coming to pick up another patient. Except when the driver emerges, I’m face-to-face with Rylan himself.

My heart bangs against my rib cage painfully, and my eyes fill with tears for a different reason. He’s here. He came for me. A saving grace I don’t deserve.

Two years haven’t done much to change his looks—same unruly dark hair and same athletic build. His features are darker and more mature. There’s a sharper edge to him than there ever was before, and the rage on his face is different.

“Thea! You didn’t tell me… what the fuck?” He closes the distance between us in a few long strides until he hovers over me like a tall oak tree. He takes me by my shoulders and gently helps me off the bench, his dark eyes darting over my face.

I suck in a breath of air, but all I get is the soothing, familiar scent of his cologne. It takes every ounce of strength not to give in to the urge to lean into him, to bury my face into his chest and let him hold me until everything around us fades away.

“You said you were banged up, but I figured maybe it was a car accident.” His gaze lands on my throat and stays there—that’s when his eyes narrow, becoming slits, and his nostrils flare. “Who did this to you? Tell me.”

“It’s not important right now. I just have to get out of here. I’m so tired.” All I want to do is jump in his arms and cry myself to sleep.

He sighs like he’s disappointed but helps me to the car. He’s overly gentle and considerate before closing the door and jogging around the front of the car. He doesn’t give me much time to come up with an excuse for why I don’t want to go home.

I can’t bear to look at him once he gets behind the wheel. “I don’t want to go home. We can go anywhere, just not there.”

There’s a heavy moment when it seems like he’s contemplating his next move. “Right,” he grunts before peeling away from the curb and rocketing us through the parking lot. I’m too embarrassed to say much else and hope he’s not in the mood to ask any further questions. Closing my eyes, I rest my head against the seat and try to think of the good times.

Only when the car comes to a stop and he kills the engine do I open my eyes to find us in a downtown parking garage. If I was with anyone else, I’d be worried right now, but with Ry, I only feel safe. “Where are we?”

“It’s where I live with Landon and Vex.”

“All three of you?” My heart seizes. I don’t know if it’s happiness or dread gripping it. We didn’t leave things on good terms—actually, we didn’t leave on any terms since I pretty much ran away after high school graduation once the whole town decided I was a whore for being in love with all three of them at once. We tried to keep it a secret for as long as possible, but there was no keeping anything from my father. He never did confirm it, but I know he must’ve had me followed.

“Yeah, we built a company from the ground up.” He always was a joker, but I don’t think he’s joking now. There’s no smirk, no chuckle. “Come on. They’re working up there now.”

“This is a lot,” I whisper, my lip trembling. It seems like he’s forgiven me, but what about the others? I never thought I’d see any of them again, but all three at once, all while looking like I was hit by a bus.

“I know. I didn’t expect to hear from you, either.” Still, he gives me no choice, getting out of the car and coming around to help me out. “Nobody is going to bite your head off. Right now, I’m just glad you’re okay, and I know they’ll feel the same way.”

I hope so. I really do. Because now I understand how much I’ve missed them. Just having Ry’s arm to hold as we walk through the garage to the elevator means everything.

“I don’t get it, though,” I murmur once we’re in the elevator, where he presses the button for the penthouse. “You guys didn’t go to college? What about your football scholarships?” That was their ticket, their way out. What they wanted more than anything, or so I thought.

“Shit happened. But this is better.” He hits me with a strange look, his dark eyes unreadable. “Sometimes things turn out the way they were always meant to.”

As the elevator doors begin to open, I only hope the other two loves of my life feel the same way.

CHAPTER THREE

“THIS IS WHERE YOU LIVE?” I look around the place in awe. The open floor space is huge, and the sleek furniture and modern art have this apartment looking like a catalog for upscale home interior design.

“Come on. Let me show you around.” The penthouse has incredible views of the city. It’s wide open, with high ceilings, shining floors, a fireplace, and so many other things that all come at me at once. I’m too overwhelmed to make much sense of it. I only know this place puts the mayor’s mansion to shame.

God, I wish my father could see this. He was always so proud of his wealth. He’s a pauper compared to these men.

“How do you guys make your money?” I ask as we pass the kitchen, full of stainless steel appliances.

“You remember how Landon was always a big computer geek, even when we played ball?” I nod, and he continues. “He came up with a big idea. We figured it made sense to start our business right away instead of waiting to finish college. There’s no need to worry if that’s what you’re getting at. Our entire gig is legit.”

Yes, and a far cry from the way life used to be for them. Back then, they were from the wrong side of town—something Dad held over my head when he found out I was seeing the three of them. He said they weren’t our kind of people. What would he think now?

“This was supposed to be a master suite,” he explains, leading me into a large, airy room. “But it made more sense to turn it into our base of operations.” Instead of a bed, the room is full of computer towers that line one wall and a long desk that lines the wall perpendicular to them. There are three stations set up, each with multiple monitors.

And at two of those stations sit Vex and Landon. The other two pieces of my heart.

Landon practically jumps up from his chair, arms outstretched—until he gets a good look at me, then his arms fall to his sides. “Who hurt you?” Vex hasn’t moved except to clench his jaw while staring at me.

“Bad date.” That’s all I can bring myself to say. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go. Ry was nice enough to bring me here.”

“Ry is such a nice guy, isn’t he?” Vex glares at him, which only ends up hurting me. I didn’t expect a warm welcome, but his venomous tone has my heart aching in my chest. He hates me.

Landon puts himself between us, smiling warmly even if he still looks concerned. He reminds me of a sexy teacher with his glasses and the rolled-up sleeves of his button-down. “It’s good to see you, and you can ignore the asshole.”

“Shouldn’t be hard. She has plenty of practice ignoring us.” I can’t help but flinch at Vex’s hateful comment. I wish he knew how much I missed him and how often I thought about him. How many nights I cried myself to sleep wishing I’d never left.

“Not now, prick,” Rylan snaps before turning his attention back to me. “What do you need? Do you want to get cleaned up? Are you tired? We have plenty of room if you need a place to stay.”

“I’m tired.” And I’m sure nobody will miss me at home, anyway. “If you don’t mind, I’d love to lie down for a little while.”

In unison, Rylan and Landon reply, “Of course.”

While Vex growls, “Sorry, we have no vacancies.”

They both turn to glare at him, and even through the heavy bruising on my face, I can feel my cheeks heat.

“Again, ignore Vex. He seems to have a hair up his ass.” Ry curls his lip as he speaks. “You can stay in my room. Let’s get you some rest, and then we can talk about what happened.”

Though I’m not looking forward to the talking part, I am very tired. I let him lead me to his bedroom—another room with killer views and the addition of a king-size bed—before showing me to the adjoining bathroom and grabbing an oversized tee for me to wear. “Take your time.”

Now I have the opportunity to look at myself in the mirror. Aside from my blond bob, not much of me is recognizable. My face is bruised and swollen.

But it isn’t full of fear. Not anymore. For the first time in two years, I feel like myself. Black eye and all. And I know it’s because of them. Like my heart’s been frozen, waiting for this all these years.

When I’m finished washing up, I find Rylan waiting for me, sitting on the edge of the bed. Seeing him like this stirs up countless memories.

Judging by the way he looks at me, I think he feels the same way. “I turned down the bedding for you. It’s clean.” I climb in, chuckling. Only when he starts stripping off his Henley and jeans do I freeze in confusion.

“I could use a nap as well, and since it’s my bed…”

I can’t help but smile, moving over to make room for him. As always, he knows exactly what I need, and right now, his nearness is what I need more than anything. The comfort of his familiar arms around me. What a surprise gift this is. I think after what I went through tonight, I deserve it.

Of course, he’s reading my thoughts because he always did. “I could kill that fucker for what he did to you, whoever he is.”

“He’s not worth it. As far as I’m concerned, I’ll never see him again.”

“How will your parents feel about that?” When I go stiff, he sighs. “Sorry. Sore subject?”

“You do know they were the reason I ran away, don’t you? They told me everybody in town thought I was a whore for being with you guys. I was ruining my father’s career, causing a scandal. This isn’t how I wanted it.”

He presses a soft kiss against my forehead, and I melt into his embrace. “I knew it had to be something like that.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize. You did what you thought you had to do.”

The door opens, and we both turn to find Landon walking in. “You’re having a sleepover, and you didn’t invite me?” He’s already unbuttoning his shirt before he reaches the bed.

“Who said that wasn’t on purpose?” Ry teases.

Landon only grumbles before lifting the comforter and sliding in behind me. I’m sandwiched between them, and nothing in the world has ever felt so right.

“We’ve missed you.” He places a hand on my hip, tender and comforting, before grazing my ear with his lips.

“I’ve missed you too, all of you. So much.” I reach behind me and cup the back of his neck with my hand. Our eyes meet, and I want nothing more than to kiss him, but my lips are too sore.

Instead, he touches his lips to my cheek while his hand slides down my thigh. I feel him growing against me, his hard cock poking against my ass.

After what happened earlier, this should be the last thing I want. Turns out it’s the only thing I want. I’ve craved them for two years. Nobody has ever lit me up inside and made me feel connected and cherished the way the three of them did.

“Touch me,” I whisper to Ry, and when he cups my breast, I sigh with relief. I’ve missed his touch.

“You sure about this?” he asks even as he lifts my leg and drapes it over his hip.

“Yes. Remind me of the good. Help me forget what happened.” He responds by delving into my panties, and the slightest touch is like an electric shock running through me. Just being this close to them was enough to start getting wet, but now it’s like a flood pouring from me.

He’s gentle, stroking my slit before dipping deeper. I arch my back, straining against Landon, whose soft caresses over my ass cheeks leave me whimpering for more. He begins rubbing himself against me, sliding over my satin panties, and even that is almost too good. Knowing they still want me the way I want them.

They work the panties off together, and Landon tosses them aside while Ry works the shirt up over my chest. He fondles my nipples with one hand while running the head of his dick through my wetness. “Oh my god,” I rasp, already so close to the edge when they’ve hardly done anything to me.

“Slow down.” Ry chuckles before rolling his hips and thrusting, filling me like only he can. Tears of joy spring to my eyes, and my mouth falls open before my gasp rings out.

Meanwhile, Landon works his dick up and down between my ass cheeks. “How many nights have I dreamed about this?” he whispers in my ear. “Jerking off. Imagining you. Your body, your taste, your scent…” He runs his lips over my shoulder, followed by his tongue. I answer with an approving whimper while Ry fucks me slowly. Sweetly. I feel every inch of him, and it’s so good. I forgot how incredible it felt having him inside me.

Having both of them inside me. I barely know what’s happening before he slips out, and Landon takes his place, skewering me with his slightly longer cock. My eyes roll back, and I’d swear I’m speaking in tongues. Ry takes the opportunity to play with my clit while tenderly sucking my nipples. I take hold of his slick shaft and begin pumping him in time with Landon’s thrusts, the vibrations from his groans running through me.

My body is on fire, the pain forgotten in favor of sweet, searing pleasure. They go back and forth, with me stroking whoever isn’t inside me. There’s nothing in the world but this, the three of us tangled together, both of them focused on my pleasure. On making me feel good. Safe. Wanted. Whole.

The tension builds and builds, the heat growing until there’s nothing for me to do but give in to what I need most. “Make me come,” I beg in a whisper as Ry withdraws and Landon surges forward. “Please, I want to come.”

“Come for us.” Ry fingers my clit in tight circles, his tongue darting out to meet mine. I might not be able to kiss, but I can do this, and one touch is all it takes to throw me over the edge. I scream wordlessly, my body going stiff before the tension breaks, and I’m left shaking, sobbing in relief while bliss rolls over me one delicious wave after another.

I’m still trembling when Landon pulls out, and immediately I roll onto my back and take both of them in my hands to jerk them furiously, now desperate to make them come like they did for me. It happens all at once, both of them letting out one final groan before ropes of cum splash across my stomach, mixing together in a cocktail that is uniquely ours. I relish every second of it, satisfied beyond anything physical by the time they’re both spent.

Halfway through the two of them cleaning me up, I drift off into a happy, deep sleep.

CHAPTER FOUR

“YOU’RE STILL HERE?”

It takes all my concentration to keep from wincing at the way Vex says it. Like I’m something dirty, disgusting, and not fit to be in his presence. After three days, he hasn’t softened up even a little bit. Landon and Ry keep telling me he will, but I don’t believe them. He won’t even hear me out the way they did—and if they told him anything, it hasn’t made a difference. What else does he need me to do?

Rather than be sarcastic, I shrug. “Yup. Still here. In the flesh and feeling better every day.” Not that he’s ever asked.

“And when will you not be here?” I’d like to think he doesn’t know how much he’s hurting me, but that’s not the truth. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and I guess from his perspective, I deserve it.

I look down into my bowl of cereal, but there aren’t any answers there. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Nothing. I don’t want anything from you. That way, I know I won’t be disappointed.” He makes a big deal of slamming his way around the kitchen—closing cabinet doors much louder than he needs to and banging the refrigerator shut hard enough to make me jump. He was always the biggest and strongest of the three of them, and he’s making sure I know it now.

“Are you ever going to give me a chance to explain myself?” I’m a little tired of this now, dropping my spoon into the bowl and turning myself on the stool in front of the kitchen island to face him. Or rather, to face his bare back, which he keeps turned to me while putting together a protein smoothie after his workout. Even now, with all this tension and unspoken anger between us, I can’t help but drool a little over his defined muscles.

“Can your explanations erase the past two years? Can they make up for you disappearing? You never even warned us you were leaving.” He snaps the carafe into the blender and almost punches the button to turn it on. For a few moments, there’s nothing but loud whirring between us.

He can’t run the damn thing forever. Eventually, it goes quiet. “Do you think it was easy for me? I didn’t want to leave. But I had to. I was humiliated. My parents were about to kick me out.”

“You could have come to us.” He spins around, smoothie forgotten in favor of glaring at me. “Why didn’t you come to us?”

I hate hearing the pain in his voice, but at least the truth is coming out. “For one thing, I was afraid of what would happen to you if I did. Do you understand how determined my father was to make sure I never saw you guys again? You had your whole future ahead of you. Football scholarships and everything. He told me he’d find a way to get them revoked.”

Vex shrugs. “Not that it mattered. We never used them.”

“Which I now know, but I couldn’t have known that at the time. You didn’t know, either. Why didn’t you go to college? You had your whole life planned out. You wanted to go pro.”

He’s been glaring at me this whole time, but that question is enough to make him lower his gaze. “Nothing mattered as much anymore. What was the point? And then Landon got his big idea by the time summer was over, so we figured there was no point in going to college. We could make all the money right away. A lot less wear and tear on the body, too. A lot more security.”

I’m too overwhelmed to speak, but then my phone rings and grabs my attention.

When I see who’s calling, my stomach churns. “Shit.”

“I wondered when they would start asking questions.” Vex snorts before turning away, going back to his smoothie. He didn’t need to ask who was calling. Only one number makes me feel sick when I see it on my screen.

“Hi, Dad.” He hasn’t bothered checking on me in three days even though I flat-out said on the answering machine that I needed help.

“Exactly when do you plan on coming home? I know you’re no longer in the hospital.”

How could a man this stupid get elected mayor in the first place? “No, I’m not in the hospital. I’m staying with friends.”

“What friends?” He makes it sound like I don’t have any at all. Like who would want to be friends with me?

“Does it matter? I’m healing. Feeling better. Thanks for asking,” I add, making Vex snort.

“Do you know how embarrassed your mother and I have been since the disaster you caused? I’ve been on the phone night and day, doing damage control.”

“Disaster? How did I cause a disaster?” The look on Vex’s chiseled face tells me he can hear everything Dad says, but then, he’s not trying to be quiet, either.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Why are you spreading all these nasty rumors about Bradley?”

I almost can’t believe it. I should be able to, right? I’ve known the man my whole life. But this is low, even for him. “I didn’t spread any rumors. I told the police the truth about him beating me when I wouldn’t sleep with him.”

Vex stiffens but says nothing, though his jaw twitches like crazy while he runs a hand through his sweat-dampened black locks.

“Thea! Don’t forget who you’re talking to.”

“I’m talking to somebody who couldn’t bother to answer the phone when I needed you at the hospital.” My chin trembles, and there are tears in my eyes, but this needs to be said. “And now you’re taking his side over your own daughter. How could you?”

“Bradley is the only chance of you having a future.”

“No. He’s the only chance of me having the future you want, and it’s not going to happen. Sorry to disappoint you, but then we’re all used to that.”

“How dare you? You ungrateful little—”

Vex snatches the phone from my hand before my father finishes cursing me out.

With my mouth hanging open like a fish out of water, I stare at my empty hand while Vex starts yelling into my phone. “From now on, if you have anything to say to Thea, you can say it to me. And as far as I’m concerned, you can fuck right off. What kind of cold-hearted bastard blames his daughter after some douchebag beat the shit out of her? You are an even bigger prick than I remember.” He ends the call, snarling, then drops the phone on the island before storming around, grunting, baring his teeth like an animal.

I can’t believe he did that. Nobody talks to my father like that, but he did. He defended me.

He still loves me. At the very least, he still cares for me. He proves it when he comes to a stop in front of me, buries his hands in my hair, and draws me close.

“He’s never going to hurt you again. None of them will.”

“I should have never left. I’m sorry…” I can barely get the words past the giant lump in my throat, but I force them out anyway. “I want you to know I haven’t been with anyone else. I mean the past two years. My parents set up the date for me with Bradley because they thought I couldn’t find anyone on my own. The truth is, I wasn’t looking.”

He silences me with a deep, searing kiss that curls my toes and leaves me clinging to him like a raft in the middle of a stormy ocean. Finally, I feel complete.

“I love you,” I whisper between kisses, my cheeks wet with happy tears. “I’ve always loved all of you.”

“And we love you.” He presses his lips to my forehead before letting me rest against his chest. “We always will. You’ll always be ours.”

Theirs. I can live with that.

CHAPTER FIVE

I LOOK OVER THE ISLAND, covered in take-out containers. “You think you ordered enough food?” I ask with a giggle. I’m surprised the granite doesn’t crack under the weight.

“Big appetites.” Vex fills his plate, glancing up at me with a grin. “Gotta stay strong for those workouts.”

This is so nice. Now that he’s forgiven me, and I know Ry and Landon have, these past few days have been like living in a dream. A happy one, for once.

I only wish my heart was fully in it, but all dreams have to come to an end, don’t they? I can’t stay here forever without money or a job. I can’t expect the guys to keep paying everything for me.

I’m not getting anywhere by putting off the inevitable, either. “I have to go. You know that, right?” The idea makes me sick, but I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and it’s the only way. I have no other options, as much as I wish I did.

Like magic, the three of them drop their forks in unison. “Excuse me?” Landon finally chokes out.

“Nothing like dropping a bombshell,” Ry mutters, staring at me like I grew a second head.

“I can’t stay here forever. You’ve all been so generous, and I love you for it, but I have to leave at some point. I don’t have any other options. I don’t have any money, a job, or a finished degree. I have to do something besides leech off you.”

“That’s it? That’s the reason you want to leave?”

“I don’t want to leave, but it’s the right thing to do, Vex.” This time when I meet his gaze, he doesn’t look shocked or pissed anymore. Now the corner of his mouth twitches up into a grin.

“Who says we’re gonna let you?” Ry glances at the others before turning to me. “Don’t we get a say in this?”

“Please. Don’t screw around right now. This is serious.”

“We are serious.” Vex gets up, spins me on my stool until my back is against the island, and places a hand on either side of me, blocking me in. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“We really do want you to stay with us,” Landon explains behind me. “We were going to ask you tonight. That’s what this whole feast is about.”

I look up into Vex’s blue eyes, searching for the truth. The way they crinkle at the corners while he grins softly tells me what I need to know. They are serious, at least for now.

“I believe you are okay with me staying here now, but what about in a few months? Eventually, you’ll resent me for spending all your money and eating your food.”

Ry steps up beside me. “Trust us, you can and will stay here with us, and we will never care how much money you spend. We want to take care of you in every way we can.”

“But if you’re worried about it, you could always work for us,” Landon chimes in. “You could help us keep track of the schedule.”

“Fuck yes, like our sexy personal assistant.” Vex beams.

“You guys are serious?”

“Yes,” all three of them agree in unison.

I’m still dumbstruck by all of this. Apparently, my expression shows it. Ry cradles my face with both of his large hands, swiping his thumbs over my cheeks. “Is it too much for you?”

“No! Are you kidding? This is exactly what I hoped for. I just didn’t think you’d want me here. You have your whole thing going on, your apartment, your business. You deserve someone else, someone better.”

“There is no one better than you, Thea. You are our life.” Landon stands at my other side, reaching out to run a hand over my head. “None of it matters without you. You’re the missing piece.”

Just like they were the missing pieces from my life. But again, everything happens for a reason. If I hadn’t blown off college and left town when I did, they wouldn’t have built their business and become millionaires. And if my father hadn’t forced me to come back with my tail between my legs, I would never have found them again.

This is the way it was meant to be. It was always meant to be us.

“I love you.” I look at the three of them in turn and see my love reflected back at me a hundred times over.

I finally settle back on Vex, and now there’s something else in those baby blues. He arches an eyebrow, smirking in the sexiest way. “You know what? On second thought, I’m not so hungry for Chinese anymore.”

Ry and Landon chuckle, but I manage to keep a straight face—though my pussy has other ideas, moistening all at once. “No? Was there something else you’re more in the mood for?”

“Could be…” Never breaking eye contact, he lowers himself to his knees, and parts mine gently but firmly. “I haven’t gotten a taste of this sweet pussy in way too long.”

“Our food’s going to get cold,” I point out in a trembling whisper while his hands begin gliding up my thighs, only covered thanks to my knee-length T-shirt.

Landon snickers before leaning in, tracing his tongue over the curve of my ear. “That’s what microwaves are for, gorgeous. I’m hungrier for you, anyway.”

Ry, meanwhile, is already running his tongue over my throat as Vex places my knees on his shoulders, so my thighs fall wide open.

With a grunt, he tears my panties free before plunging his head down to devour my dripping pussy. His tongue moves through my slickness, giving me no choice but to grasp the back of his head with both hands and hold it in place. His animal grunts only make it all the more intense. Dirtier. Hotter.

He focuses his attention on my clit, sucking gently while driving his thick digits deep inside me. “Oh my god, yes!” I gasp, rocking my hips as he eats me like a man starved. He massages my wall, pressing against my G-spot, and the sensation is heaven. “Harder. Suck it harder.”

“Greedy girl,” Landon whispers. “You do know when the time comes, you’ll have to suck us just as hard, right?”

“And fuck us harder,” Ry adds, removing one of my hands from the back of Vex’s head and placing it over his hard bulge.

My head falls back, eyes closed, mouth hanging open. “Yes! Make me suck you. Make me fuck all of you. Please…” I can’t believe this is coming out of me. Like the dam has broken, and years of pent-up longing are pouring out all at once.

And then it all crashes down over me, and I come until my ears ring, and I have to beg Vex to stop. I open my eyes as he lifts his head, grinning, my juices making his lips shine.

“That was a nice appetizer,” he growls, licking his lips. “Let’s go to the bedroom for the main course.”

Nothing could stop me.

The End

Thank you for reading Never Forgotten.

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J.L. Beck and C. Hallman are a USA Today and international bestselling author duo who write contemporary and dark romance.

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A LOVE SO FAR

INK MACHINE

J.M. WALKER

CHAPTER ONE

ETTIE

“I’M GOING to travel across Europe.” I paused and waited for my dad to blow his top. Not literally, of course, but the vein in his forehead throbbed, and I knew that a lecture was coming. I was twenty-one, and going to Europe had been a goal for a long time.

As much as I wanted to go back to school, traveling around Europe and visiting historical sites and museums would give me greater knowledge than sitting in a classroom listening to a teacher speak and reading. I wanted to experience the culture, eat the food, meet the people. And I wanted to do it by myself.

My dad still hadn’t said anything, and I had been in his office for about five minutes. I led the conversation with, “Hi, Daddy, how are you?” And he knew instantly that I wanted something or that I was going to give him bad news. I didn’t think it was bad news.

Even my mom told me that it was a great idea to experience life at my age. I wanted her to tell my dad for me. But she told me that if I wanted to act like an adult and go to another continent on my own, I had to tell him myself.

So now I was standing in my dad’s office at his work, Crane’s Ink, and waited. For what, I wasn’t exactly sure. But I needed his approval, because I couldn’t go to Europe with him being mad at me. I had come up with a whole entire speech on how I would convince him that traveling across Europe was a wonderful idea. But instead, my mind was blank and all I said was that I wanted to travel across Europe.

He probably didn’t even think I was serious.

But I was.

I was very serious.

If I didn’t have his blessing, I would still go. I’d be upset about it, of course. But he would get over it. He had to.

“Are you going to say anything?” I asked him.

Dad leaned across his desk, placing his elbows on top of the dark mahogany wood. He was well into his fifties, but he was still fit and large. His size contradicted my mom’s tiny stature.

My brother took after our father, and I took after our mom.

It didn’t help that my dad had an eyepatch that made him look scarier and meaner, when really, he was a big teddy bear. To my mom and me anyway.

Dad opened his mouth to say something, but it was almost like he thought better of it and snapped his mouth shut instead. His lips pulled into a thin line. That vein in his forehead throbbing even more as time went on where neither of us said anything.

I couldn’t take the silence anymore. So I took a deep breath and thought back to the conversation I had with my mom. I had practiced with her on what I would say to him. Although practicing didn’t help when I forgot everything I had said in the first place.

“I know that I’m only twenty-one and that traveling across Europe by myself is a big deal. But I have an itinerary. I have the hotels I want to stay at. I can text you and let you know exactly where I’m staying too.”

“No,” Dad said, interrupting me.

“But I will,” I insisted, refusing to back down. “I promise I’ll keep you in the loop.”

“No, it’s not that. You will call me.”

I shook my head, unable to believe what I was hearing. “Wait, what? You approve of this?”

“No, I don’t approve of it. But I know that you are exactly like your mother and that even if I said I didn’t want you to go, or that I forbade you to go, you would still go. I really don’t want you to be pissed at me. I can’t handle it when either of you are mad at me.”

“So you really approve of this? I mean, you’re giving me your blessing?”

Dad looked at me and let out a deep sigh. “I think it’ll be good for you. Not for me, though, knowing my baby girl is on another continent. But I wish that when I was your age, I had the chance to go to Europe. I never did, and I don’t want the same for you.”

I really couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I thought my dad would automatically say no and that he would lose his mind over the fact that I wanted to travel thousands of miles away.

I was grateful that he gave me his blessing. “I’ll definitely keep you posted on where I’m staying. I’ll tell you all of the addresses for the hotels, the museums, the restaurants, and every single place I visit.”

“Good.” Dad started placing some of the paperwork on his desk in a pile. “I do need to get some work done here, sweetheart.”

“Okay.” I went up to him and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Daddy. I really appreciate it.”

“I know, baby girl, and you are welcome.”

I kissed his cheek again and quietly left his office.

Closing the door, I leaned against it. Excitement rushed through me, forcing a smile on my face.

“What’s got you so happy, beautiful?” A deep voice coming from down the hall instantly shattered my good mood.

“What do you want, Pearson?” I bit out, not liking how his deep, smooth voice sent a flutter through my belly.

A slow smirk spread on his face. He ran two fingers along his full lips, his eyes roaming down the length of me. “I’m not sure you want me to actually answer that question.”

The innuendo wasn’t lost on me, and while it made my heart flutter, I played it off like it didn’t.

“You’re disgusting,” I grumbled, pushing past the man who had invaded my fantasies ever since I first met him years ago. I had been sixteen when my parents hired him at my dad’s tattoo shop. Business had picked up over the years and my dad wanted to semi-retire so he could spend more time with my mom.

Pearson Hawke was everything my parents did not want me to end up with. He was the epitome of a bad boy. With his shaggy, auburn hair, dark scruff on his strong, chiseled jaw, and tattoos that lined most of his exposed skin, he was everything I wasn’t interested in. Or that had been what I told myself.

As I took a step around him, a firm hand caught my upper arm. The rough, calloused touch made my breath catch.

“You won’t think I’m disgusting when I have you coming all over my cock,” he whispered, his mouth brushing along the shell of my ear.

My cheeks heated at the image he put in my head.

Shoving away from him, I needed to get myself together before my dad caught us in a compromising position. It didn’t matter that Pearson and I had been flirting on and off ever since I first met him. It didn’t matter that he was five years older than me. None of it mattered. Because I knew that we would never end up together. Every time I was single, he wasn’t, and vice versa. I especially made sure to date guys who didn’t look or act like him. My feelings were childish and I would have to get over them.

“This needs to stop.” Last I heard, he had a pretty blonde who warmed his bed.

“Oh? And what exactly needs to stop?” he asked, tilting his head.

“This flirting. It’s not right when you have a girlfriend.” I wasn’t sure if that last part was true or not or if she was just a plaything for him, but it had never stopped him before. It wasn’t right. I knew that. But he had always reassured me that the women he dated were never serious. So I had just assumed that the flirting between us was to get under my dad’s skin. Even though Dad had heard from time-to-time what Pearson had said to me, he never fired him because Pearson was amazing at what he did. He helped bring in a larger clientele and also helped with the social media side of things. My dad may have been a hacker back in the day, but social media and putting himself out there, were things he couldn’t wrap his head around. No matter how hard my brother, myself, and our mom tried, Dad refused to let his face be seen. He said it was because he was old as fuck and no one wanted to look at his ugly mug.

“You think I have a girlfriend?” Pearson asked, crossing his thick arms across his broad chest.

“You always have a girlfriend,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, and you always have a boyfriend,” he threw at me.

“I do not,” I said, placing my hands on my hips and glaring up at him.

“No?” In a quick move, he grabbed my hand and tugged me along until we reached a storage closet.

“Pearson.” I tried pulling from his grip, but he was too strong for me. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Shut up.” He shoved me into the small space, closing the door behind him. There wasn’t a lot of room, so neither of us could move without touching each other.

“What—”

“I said, shut the fuck up,” he growled, clicking the lock into place.

“You know, that’s not any way to talk to a lady.” I crossed my arms under my chest, lifting my chin defiantly.

“You don’t listen at all,” he bit out, flicking on the light switch.

Once the small room lit up, I realized just how close we were to each other. I could smell his spicy cologne, see the heat in his eyes that was directed at me, and practically feel his heart beating.

“I listen,” I muttered, my voice not as sure as I would have liked it to be.

“A little birdy told me that you’re going to Europe.”

My jaw clenched.

“And you’re going alone.” Pearson snaked an arm around my middle, pulling me flush against him.

A small gasp escaped me at being this close to him. A man I had wanted but could never have.

“Why do you care?” I would have fought to get out of his arms, but it wasn’t like there was anywhere for me to go.

“Because I refuse to let you go to another damn continent. On your own.”

“You are not my father.” I pushed him then, but he didn’t budge. “My daddy gave me permission—”

“Your daddy gave you permission because he knew that you would have gone anyway because that’s how you Crane women are.”

“So now I need to get your permission, Pearson?” My body heated, anger simmering through me that he could even suggest such a thing.

When he didn’t respond and only stared at me instead, I shoved him. Hard.

He grunted but kept a hold on my waist.

“You don’t own me.”

“Not yet I fucking don’t.”

Before I could ask what he meant by that, his mouth came down hard on mine. My eyes widened that he was finally kissing me. After all of this time. After years of having a crush on him and wishing that we had been single at the same time.

Pearson ran a hand down my back to my ass, cupping a cheek and pulling me even closer.

Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I slipped my fingers through his hair and pulled.

He growled, shoving his tongue between my lips.

A moan left me. But as much as I enjoyed kissing him, he needed to know that he couldn’t control me.

Getting an idea that I was sure to regret, I bit down.

He jumped, a low grunt leaving him.

When he only kissed me deeper, I bit his lip again.

“What the fuck?” He pulled away, licking his tongue along the split in his lip.

“You can’t just kiss me like that, Pearson.” My words came out breathless.

“I’m single. You’re single. Why the fuck can’t I kiss you?”

I rolled my eyes. “One, we’re in the storage closet at my parents’ place of work. Two, my daddy will kick your ass if he finds us in here. Three…” My voice trailed off when I couldn’t think of a good enough reason for number three. “It doesn’t matter. This can’t happen. Not now. Not ever.”

Much to my surprise, Pearson laughed. He actually fucking laughed.

“What the hell’s so damn funny?”

“This. Everything.” Pearson leaned against the door, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s funny because you act like you didn’t actually want me to kiss you. You act like you didn’t want my tongue in your mouth. My hands on your body. My cock pressing up against you.”

“Nope. I didn’t want any of that. At all.” I lifted my chin, staring at him head on. “And you would be smart not to try that again or else I’ll go to my daddy and tell him that a boy was being mean to me.”

The smile fell from Pearson’s face. “You act all fucking innocent, Ettie. But I know what’s inside of you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No?” He pushed away from the door and closed the distance between us. It wasn’t like I had a chance to get far from him. Especially with the small space we were currently enclosed in. “I know that you’re not a virgin. As much as that pisses me off, I can’t do shit about it. But I will promise you this. I will make you forget your first and all of the bastards you fucked after. And I promise this as well. I will be your last, baby.”

I snorted. “Right.”

“You think I’m joking?” Pearson raised an eyebrow. “You think that I don’t mean what I say? You should know by now that when I want something, I do whatever I can to have it. Consequences be damned.”

“What do you want from me?” It was a loaded question, but I needed to know. As much as I liked to deny these feelings rushing through me or the excitement over the fact that we had finally kissed, I couldn’t handle it if he hurt me.

“You know what I want, but if you need to hear it, listen up.” Pearson cupped my shoulders, pushing me back until I hit the wall behind me. When he pressed his waist against mine, a low growl rumbled through him. “Look at me.”

My eyes met his.

A slow smirk spread on his face. “I want you, Ettie. I want to date you, go to bed with you at night and wake up next to you in the morning. I want to make you laugh. But I especially want to make you blush.” He leaned down to my ear, his nose brushing along the soft skin. “I want to fuck you,” he purred, his hot breath fanning over the side of my face.

I swallowed hard, my eyes fluttering closed, and just listened to his words.

“I want every inch of you. I want to know what my name sounds like when you scream it.”

“Why?” I whispered.

“You know why, baby.” He trailed his lips along my jaw before capturing my mouth in a bruising kiss. While he spoke his truths, his kiss told me more than his words could ever say.

CHAPTER TWO

PEARSON

ETTIE MELTED INTO ME, giving in to the kiss that I was so damn desperate for. Sure, I meant what I said when I told her that I wanted to fuck her. But kissing her was so much more. More than I was ready for. More than I could handle. More than I could ever be grateful for.

I had been in love with her for as long as I could remember, but the timing had never been right. Whenever I was single, she wasn’t. But I’d had enough.

When I saw her come into Crane’s Ink and head to her dad’s office, I followed and overheard her telling him that she was going to take a trip to Europe.

I shouldn’t have been eavesdropping, but I woke up that morning determined to make her mine. Their conversation about her little trip gave me the kick in the ass I needed. Add to the fact that there was no way in hell I would let her go to another damn country without finding out everywhere she was staying and visiting.

Ettie’s moan pulled me from my thoughts.

As much as I wanted to continue this, there was no way that our first time together would be in a storage closet.

Breaking the kiss, I ran my thumb along her swollen mouth.

Her dark eyes seared into mine. Her chestnut brown hair was a mess of curls that I couldn’t wait to pull.

“Have fun on your little trip, but just remember, wherever you are, I’ll be there. Doesn’t matter what city you’re in or even what part of the world you’re in.” I pinched her chin, tilting her head back. “I will be there.”

Leaving her with that thought, I pulled away from her and left the storage closet. Good thing too, because her father took that moment to come down the hall.

“You have an appointment in ten,” Lucas Crane told me. “Simple cover up.”

While he explained what tattoo the client wanted, I saw Ettie leave the storage closet. When her gaze met mine, her cheeks flushed. That blush went down to her chest, and it was a color that I wanted to keep on her skin.

Lucas snapped his fingers in front of my face. “You hear me, kid?”

“Simple cover up on a butterfly tattoo that was done when she was sixteen. Got it.”

“You need to stop daydreaming about my daughter.”

I caught the smile that flashed across Ettie’s face as she walked down the hall away from us. She gave me a wave and rushed out the back.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Before I said something stupid, and because I respected the hell out of Lucas, I made my way out to the front of the tattoo shop. He was also a large fucker, and I didn’t need him kicking my ass.

“Don’t lie to me, Pearson. I like you. You’re a hard worker and you’re making it easier for me to retire, which then makes my wife happy.”

“Aww, Lucas. I never pegged you for a softie.”

“Careful.” He scratched his chin. “I can make your life very fucking hard just by pressing a few buttons.”

I stopped at his words. “Whatever you think my intentions are with Ettie, you’re wrong.”

“So, you weren’t just in the storage closet with her?”

My stomach sank. This was it. Today was the day I was going to die.

“Listen, I may be blind in one eye, but I don’t miss anything when it comes to my kids.”

“How…” It was a stupid question. Lucas knew everything that went on this place.

“You’ll never know.” He smirked, coming toward me. “I don’t know what you want with her, but I do know that you’re a good kid. If I find out that you hurt her, though, I will make it so the only thing you’ll be able to drink out of is a straw.”

“Noted.” There was no point in telling him that I wouldn’t hurt her. He needed to know that I understood his threat. And I did.

“Good.” Lucas cupped my shoulder, digging his fingers into the muscle. “Now that we understand each other, get to work.”

CHAPTER THREE

ETTIE

STANDING OUTSIDE OF THE VATICAN, my heart was full.

Italy had been on my bucket list ever since I was a kid. I had already been traveling for a week, visiting every museum I could, seeing every country I could in a short time, and eating all the food.

While my trip had been one that I would never forget, something still felt off.

As people rushed around me, I checked my phone. I should have been happy. I should have been elated that I was in one of the most famous places on earth and that a lot of people would never make it there.

Checking my text messages, I clicked on the last one from Pearson. It had been from the day before. He told me to have fun and be safe.

My fingers lifted to my mouth, remembering the kiss we had shared. I didn’t have any more alone time with him after that incident. I had booked my trip rather quickly instead, and I knew that it was because I was running. The feelings that kiss sparked, scared the shit out of me.

“Thinking of me?”

My heart jumped to my throat. There was no way.

Slowly turning around, I stared up at… “Pearson,” I gasped.

He tilted his head, that sexy-as-hell smirk spreading on his face. “Miss me?”

“What are you doing here? How did you find me? When did you arrive? Answer me.” I shoved him gently when he didn’t answer my barrage of questions.

He chuckled, pulling me into his arms. “I found your itinerary and have been following your adventure on social media. But you gotta be careful with that shit, Ettie. Anyone could show up.”

“Yeah. You, you creeper.” As much as I tried being mad that Pearson showed up out of nowhere in another country, I was beyond happy to see him.

“So, did you miss me?” he asked, his voice low.

“No,” I whispered, running my fingers through his hair.

“Liar.”

Before I could argue, he lowered his mouth to mine.

I sighed, breathing him in.

A soft growl rumbled from him. Slipping his hands to my ass, he pulled me closer and kissed me as people walked by us. Although we were in public, as time went on, it was like everyone else slipped away and it was just us.

Pearson broke the kiss, giving me a small smile. “I missed you.”

My heart stuttered. “I missed you too.”

“Yeah?” A cheeky grin spread on his face. “How much?”

I laughed, shaking my head. Taking a step away from him, I looked around me. The weather was perfect. Not too hot and not too cold. The sun was out and the man I had been missing, was with me. Everything finally felt right.

“How did you know I was here?” I asked him as he came up to my side.

Pearson slipped his fingers in mine, kissing my temple. “You posted on Instagram that you were here.”

“Oh. Right.” I stared up at him. “You really came all this way to see me?”

“I did.” He brought my hand up to his mouth and kissed my knuckles. “I also didn’t like the fact that you were so far away and all by yourself. It’s not me being controlling either. It isn’t safe.”

“Lots of people travel alone,” I told him.

“I know that, and I also know that you’re strong as hell and can handle your own, but it still didn’t help me sleep at night. Your dad has also been moodier since you left.”

“My dad needs to get over it.” But I did appreciate their concern. “I’m fine, though. You can clearly see that I’m fine.”

“I know you are.” Pearson let his gaze roam down the length of me. “And, yeah, you’re definitely fine.”

I giggled, gently pushing him.

He chuckled. “So tell me, Ettie. What’s on the agenda today?”

CHAPTER FOUR

PEARSON

ETTIE and I spent the day together. We visited the Colosseum, stuffed our faces with pasta, and drank way too much wine. Now we were stumbling back to Ettie’s hotel. Or she was stumbling, and I was doing my best to hold her up.

Every time she tripped over her feet, a burst of laughter would leave her. It put a smile on my face and warmed every inch of me.

I had arrived in Rome the night before. I didn’t know exactly where Ettie was staying, so I rented my own room and decided to search her out the following day. Thankfully, she had posted on Instagram everywhere she visited, so it wasn’t overly hard to find her. Even in the crowded city.

I went into this day with every intention of bringing her back to my room, but with the wine we drank, I decided against it. But I would have her in my bed before her trip was over. I didn’t have as much wine as she did because I needed to make sure I was sober enough to take care of her.

“Did you know that you’re hot as hell?” Her question pulled me from my thoughts.

“Oh?”

“Mmmhmm…” She stepped in front of me, wobbling on her feet. “So hot,” she slurred.

I chuckled, shaking my head. “You’re drunk, baby.”

“So”—she slapped my cheek—“are you.”

“Not as much as you.” I pulled her against me, crushing my mouth to hers.

She sighed, grabbing hold of my shirt and pressing herself against me.

The movement made my dick twitch.

“Alright, Ettie.” I nipped her bottom lip. “That’s enough.”

“Aww, but why?” She pouted. “Don’t you want me?”

“Of course I want you, but not like this, and especially not when you’re loaded.” I had done a lot of morally gray things in my life, but I wouldn’t fuck her when she had a hard enough time standing on her own two feet.

“Fine, be a tease.”

“I’m a tease?” I lowered my mouth to her ear, slapping her ass. “Who rubbed their body against mine a second ago? You’re lucky that I’m a gentleman, Ettie, because the things I want to do to you should be fucking illegal.”

Her breath caught. “Tell me more.”

“Not here.” I grabbed her hand and all but dragged her to her hotel. She didn’t argue and led the way even in her drunken stupor.

Once we stood outside her room, she looked up at me. “Spend the night with me?”

“I’m not going anywhere, baby.”

“Good.” Ettie unlocked the door and stepped into the small room with me following behind her.

As soon as I shut the door, she started stripping.

I probably should have stopped her, but with the wine making my head fuzzy, I decided not to. Even though I wouldn’t fuck her yet, having her naked body against mine would at least hold me over.

For now.

CHAPTER FIVE

ETTIE

I WOKE the next morning not remembering much from the night before. I recalled Pearson and I spending the day together and then going out for dinner, but once we got into the wine, the rest of the night was a blur of images that I couldn’t quite make out.

Shifting in the bed, I suddenly realized that I wasn’t alone.

A warm body stirred beside me and a heavy arm pulled me closer.

My eyes widened when it all came back. I had invited Pearson to spend the night with me, and I remembered stripping.

With the sun streaming in through the window, I lifted the blanket and saw that we were naked.

“Something wrong, Ettie?” Pearson asked, his voice rough with sleep.

“Nope.” I lowered the blankets, but I couldn’t look at him. Although I liked that he was beside me, it still didn’t mean that I wasn’t a little ashamed over how I acted the night before. I hadn’t been that drunk in a long time. It forced me to let my guard down, knowing that Pearson would take care of me, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

“Are you sure?” With his arm around my middle, he pulled me even closer. His naked body pressed up against mine.

I could feel him.

All of him.

And it set every inch of me on fire.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I whispered.

“Hey.” Pearson cupped my jaw, turning my head and forcing me to look at him. “Talk to me.”

“I’ve never done this, and I don’t want you thinking any less of me. I was drunk and…” I chewed my bottom lip, unable to voice the rest of my thoughts.

“If you woke up next to another man, I’d react differently. But you woke up next to me, Ettie. Me. And we were both drunk. Not just you. But nothing happened. Please don’t think something happened, because it didn’t.”

“I know.” I placed my hand on his cheek, the scruff of his beard making me wonder what it would be like to feel it between my thighs. “But I wish something did happen.”

“Are you still drunk, baby?” he asked, rolling me onto my back and kneeling between my legs.

“No.” I couldn’t help but look at him. Truly look at him. He was completely naked. Tattoos of all shapes, sizes, and colors marked his skin. “Are you?”

“Not at all.” He leaned down to my ear. “But you really need to stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what? I meant what I said last night.” I turned my head, our lips lightly brushing. “You are hot as hell.”

“I’m in love with you,” he confessed.

A light gasp left me.

“I’ve been in love with you for a while, and I know I should have said something sooner, but every time I got the balls to tell you how I felt, you were dating someone. It’s just never been the right time.”

“Until now,” I added.

“Until now.” His gaze roamed down the length of me. “I also know that it’s border line creepy that I followed you to Rome, but I needed to see you. I couldn’t wait anymore. I don’t just want you, Ettie.” His eyes locked with mine. “I need you.”

My heart jumped.

Cupping his shoulders, I ran my hands down his muscular arms. Could I tell him? Could I finally tell him that I had been in love with him for a while too? “I’m in love with you too.” My eyes welled. God, it felt so good to get that out.

“Yeah?” A cheeky grin spread on his face.

“Yeah.” I laughed, wiping under my eyes. “But I thought you weren’t interested. Not at first anyway. And then my stupid feelings made me fear that you would hurt me.”

“I will never hurt you, Ettie, but I understand that fear.” He paused. “We should have talked long ago.”

“We should have, but better late than never, right?” I ran my fingers through his hair.

“Definitely.” Pearson kissed my forehead.

“I need…”

“What?” He lifted his head. “Tell me and I’ll make it happen.”

“I need you inside me.” As soon as those words left my lips, I was flipped onto my stomach.

It was like something switched at that moment. Something that became so much more between us.

Pearson fisted my hair, his hot breath fanning the side of my face. “Are you sure? Are you sure you need me inside you?” he asked, pushing his waist into the seat of my ass. His growing erection pressed against me. That alone had me spreading my legs for him. A dark chuckle sounded through him. “You hinting?”

“Yes,” I breathed.

“I should make love to you,” he murmured in my ear. “I should be gentle and sweet. But it’s been so fucking long, that I don’t know if I can be either of those things.”

“I don’t want it. Not that way.” Would he judge me for wanting that passion? That fierce ecstasy as he forced pleasure from me?

“What do you want then, Ettie?”

“I want you to fuck me.”

A low raspy growl left him. “How? How do you want me to fuck you?”

I wasn’t actually sure how he was in bed, so I said the first word that came to mind. “Rough.”

“Fuck,” he whispered.

I was suddenly forced to my knees with my body completely bare to him.

“Look at you.” Pearson trailed a finger down my spine. “Such a good girl. Kneeling for me. Bare for me.” When his finger reached the spot between my thighs, a groan left him. “Wet for me.”

White knuckling the sheets beneath us, I waited for him to take control. “Pearson, please.”

“Beg all you want, baby. I’m taking my damn time with you.” His finger ran back and forth over my slick center. “So fucking sloppy.”

My body vibrated, wishing he would hurry up and do what we both wanted. But at the same time, I enjoyed this side of him. A side I never thought I would see.

As if he could hear my thoughts, he ran something soft between my legs.

I moaned, pushing back into his touch.

“Such a greedy girl.” He chuckled.

“God, Pearson. I just…it’s been way too long.”

“How long?” He continued rubbing whatever it was between my legs.

“Six months or so,” I panted, moving my hips in tune with his touch. I realized then that it was the crown of his cock that he was using to tease me. To tease us both.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Yes,” I whimpered.

“Good.” He cupped the back of my neck. “Sex should be enjoyed.”

Before I could comment, he thrust into me in one smooth move. The impact forced a cry from my lips.

“I’m making you a promise, Ettie.” He pushed into me as deep as my body would let him. “I promise that you will forget them. All of them. I will show you what it’s like to be fucked. Truly fucked. But also loved at the same time.”

“Yes, please.” I tilted my hips, taking him even deeper.

Pearson cupped my hand, linking our fingers. “I also promise that I’m not going anywhere. That this is it. You are mine. And I am yours. Forever.”

“Yes, God, Pearson, yes.”

He released my hand and the back of my neck. The only part of him touching me was his thick length. “Then be a good girl and show me what you want.”

I wasn’t exactly sure what he meant, but I really needed him to move, so I took it upon myself to do just that.

Lifting to all fours, I began moving, fucking myself on his cock.

“Yes, just like that. Such a good girl.”

His words of encouragement made me pick up speed. I moved back and forth, side to side, taking him deeper and deeper into my body.

Sounds of pleasure left me. Sounds I had never heard before. While the previous guys I had been with were good, they weren’t this good.

“Keep going, Ettie.” Pearson towered over me, but he still kept his hands to himself.

“Please touch me,” I whined.

“No. Not yet. I want you to make yourself come.” He muttered a curse. “Such a good girl.”

My thighs shook, my body tingling as I continued to impale myself on him.

CHAPTER SIX

PEARSON

I WASN’T GOING to last long. Not when it had been a while for me as well.

Watching Ettie fuck herself with my dick was the hottest thing I had ever experienced.

I didn’t know if she had any plans for the day, but it wouldn’t matter. If she did, they were cancelled because I needed to make up for lost time.

As much as I needed to be in control, having her use me to make herself feel good made me feel powerful just the same.

Ettie’s moans pulled me forward.

“Faster,” I instructed, my balls tightening.

Her sounds of pleasure grew louder, my name leaving her lips repeatedly.

“Faster,” I barked.

A hard scream suddenly left her, her body shaking around me.

“Fuck,” I bellowed, my own release following hers.

Once we both calmed down, I slowly pulled out of her.

“God, that was…wow.” She flopped onto her stomach, rolling over and staring up at me.

Before I could stop myself, I thrust a finger into her, making her jump. “This is yours,” I told her, pushing my cum deeper into her body. “And it will eventually get you pregnant. Maybe now, maybe not. Just know that it belongs to you.”

Ettie spread her legs, grabbing hold of my wrist. “Then I think you should fuck me again and keep giving it to me.”

“Giving what to you?” I knew what she was referring to, but I needed to hear her say it.

“Your cum.” A tinge of pink hit her cheeks.

Lowering my mouth to hers, I nipped at her lips until they were swollen from my touch. “You want more?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“You want me to fill you up and put a baby in you?”

“Yes,” she repeated, licking along my bottom lip.

“Then be a good girl and hold on.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

ETTIE

Sometime later…

“OH, PEARSON. MORE. PLEASE MORE.”

My husband chuckled, thrusting into me from behind. “Fuck, I love how you love this position.”

“It’s my favorite.” I moaned, pushing back into him and meeting him thrust for thrust.

Over the next hour, Pearson gave me what I had needed all day. I practically jumped him when he got home from work, so I was thankful that he had gotten the hint right away.

“How are you feeling?” he asked me later that night and placed a soft peck on my swollen stomach.

“Nervous but good.” We were overdue with our first baby. Our son was supposed to be born a few days earlier, but he decided that staying in my stomach was better for him.

“I’m proud of you.” Pearson laid down beside me, keeping his hand on my belly. “I can’t wait to see you with him.”

“And you can’t wait to fuck another baby into me,” I added.

Pearson gave me a cheeky grin. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I laughed, pushing him onto his back and straddling his waist. “My husband is a dirty, dirty man.”

“Yeah, and my wife is even dirtier.” He winked, running his hands up my thighs.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said, using his words. I reached between us and curled my fingers around his growing length. Giving it a couple pumps, I lined the tip of him up with my center.

He groaned, his fingers digging into my thighs. “What do you want, baby?”

“For you to fuck me.” My grin grew. “Daddy.”

About the Author

J.M. Walker, a Canadian author, is an Amazon bestseller who also hit USA Today with Wanted: An Outlaw Anthology. She loves all things books, pigs and lip gloss. She is happily married to the man who inspires all of her heroes and continues to make her weak in the knees every single day.

Want more?

https://linktr.ee/authorjmwalker

PROTECTING HOPE

JANE BLYTHE

CHAPTER ONE

March 20th

10:35 P.M.

SHE HAD to be the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on.

Falcon Oswald couldn’t take his eyes off the gorgeous redhead. Tonight she’d left her long auburn hair loose. It hung down her back like a cascade of fiery waves. Her dress was simple yet elegant, a stunning shade of green that matched her gray-green eyes to perfection.

She was perfection.

And Hope Delancey was his.

Soon, the forever they’d talked about was going to become a reality.

As he watched as she said farewell to one of their guests, his fingers found their way inside his jacket pocket, curling around the little black velvet box.

There was only one woman in the world that he would wear a tux for and that was his gorgeous girlfriend, hopefully soon-to-be fiancée. Okay, in reality, he would also wear one for any of his three sisters, his sister-in-law, or his niece, but tonight was all about the woman who had managed to penetrate his cold, dead heart and fill it with life.

He was dark and she was light.

At first, he’d been worried that his darkness would extinguish her light. but Instead, her light had banished away the darkness that lived inside him.

Falcon owed her everything.

When she caught him staring at her, she twinkled her fingers in the cutest little wave, kissed the older couple on the cheeks, and then came towards him.

Just the sight of her was enough to make him wanting to grab her, drag her into his arms, and kiss her like she was the only thing that gave him sustenance. In a way, she was. She was everything: beauty, intelligence, heart, and strength.

So damn much strength.

Hope had survived being caught by human traffickers, tortured and abused, fought for her life in a dangerous trek through the Colombian rainforest, and then managed to rebuild her life once she came back home. She was so much stronger than he, because she hadn’t just survived her ordeal; she’d come out the other side an even better person.

Unlike him.

He’d only grown more angry, more closed off, more shut down. But he was trying to do better. Because of Hope. She was an inspiration. She was his inspiration. His everything.

“Tonight was perfect. Thank you for setting this up for me,” Hope said as she wrapped her arms around him and crushed her mouth to his.

For the last month or so, he’d been talking to her about setting up an exhibition of some of her photographs. Hope had been a photojournalist, but after her ordeal in Colombia, he’d hoped that she would decide not to return to her dangerous job. While he had hoped the exhibition would show her there were ways she could make money doing what she loved without risking her life in the process, there was a secret component to the night’s events Hope didn’t know yet.

“You did amazing. Everyone loved your work,” he told her.

“I sold all my pieces! All of them! Can you believe it?” she exclaimed. Despite the cool evening, her cheeks were pink with excitement and she was practically vibrating against him.

Smiling at her, Falcon pulled her in for another kiss. “I can believe it. You’re amazing at what you do, sweetheart.”

“Do you know that one-sided smile thing you always do is so sexy, it makes me want to nibble on those delectable lips of yours.” Hope pressed up against him and lifted a hand to smooth along his lips.

Sucking her finger into his mouth, he swirled the tip of his tongue along the pad of her fingertip. If they weren’t at the park he’d have her naked already, showing just how sexy his lips could be.

“Later, I promise. You better go say goodbye to the last of your guests.”

Taking a step back, she eyed him shrewdly. “You’re in an awful hurry for everyone to leave, considering the exhibition was your idea.”

Because he was both anxious and impatient to get on to the secret part of the evening. The Oswald name and money had secured them a secluded part of Central Park to hold the event. With the addition of strings of fairy lights strung up between the trees and candles everywhere, there was a magical feeling in the air.

Or maybe that was just because he knew he was about to propose.

As soon as everyone left and it was just the two of them, he was going to sing her a love song he’d been working on ever since they got back from Colombia, a song he’d written just for her, and then he would get down on one knee and pop the question.

“You’re being weird, Falcon Oswald,” Hope told him.

“You’re imagining it. I just don’t like being around so many people.” Not completely a lie. Outside of Hope, his family, and the men and women who worked for Prey Security—a world-renowned private security company owned and run by him and his siblings that did everything from black ops for the government, to hostage rescue, to private security—he didn’t like being surrounded by people.

“Okay,” Hope said slowly, like she didn’t quite believe him.

The wail of sirens caught both their attention and they turned in the direction the sound was coming from.

“Wonder what that’s about?” Hope said.

This was Manhattan—of course the sound of sirens wasn’t unusual, but that sounded close.

A moment later came the unmistakable sounds of a crash.

“Finish up saying goodbye to your guests, honey, I want them all gone by the time I come back.”

“Where are you going?”

“To check if anyone needs help.”

“My grumpy hero,” she teased.

Giving her a quick kiss, Falcon ran off in the direction of the crash. A tiny little delay in his plans for the evening wouldn’t hurt. He just couldn’t wait to get back to his girl. There was a ring in his pocket waiting to find its home on her finger.

CHAPTER TWO

March 20th

10:46 P.M.

HOPE WATCHED Falcon run off with a rather heavy dose of suspicion.

He was up to something, no doubt about it. There was a little spark in his eyes that wasn’t usually there.

While she never doubted for a second that Falcon loved her completely and without reservations, he certainly wasn’t Mr. Warm and Fuzzy. Not that she wanted him to be. All she wanted was for him to be himself.

After all, it was the fact that he was strong and tough that had made her fall in love in the first place.

Their story sounded like something from a romance novel. He’d come in like a hero: saved her from the hell she was trapped in, protected her in the jungles of Colombia, then risked his own life to make sure she made it home alive. Then, he’d done the sexiest thing of all: He’d battled his inner demons and come for her, pledged himself to her, offered her all that he was as well as all that he had, and won her heart in the process.

Now she lived this amazing life, dating a billionaire, living in a gorgeous penthouse in Manhattan, surrounded by Falcon’s amazing family. Her life felt so full, so perfect—almost too perfect.

The kind of perfect fate can’t help but meddle with.

No more bad in their story, they’d both been through enough, both together and personally before they met. Now it was time for happiness, and joy, and bliss, and every other synonym of happy that existed.

Falcon had long since disappeared, and Hope rubbed her hands up and down her arms as she turned back to the beautiful exhibition he’d organized for her. She knew he’d done it because he didn’t want her going back to work as a photojournalist, but also understood that she didn’t just want to be some pampered trophy wife who spent her days shopping and eating cucumber sandwiches.

Her thoughtful guy…

While Falcon might not be soft and mushy, he showed her in a million little ways how much she meant to him, and honestly, that was all she had ever wanted in a partner.

Smiling to herself, she looked around to see if there were any guests still lingering.

Tonight’s guest list had included mostly wealthy New York families along with a few of her friends and Falcon’s family. His younger sister Sparrow was still serving in the military but her boyfriend had come. Likewise, Falcon’s younger brother Hawk was serving, and the baby of the family, Dove, was still in London. But Eagle and his wife Olivia, Raven and her husband Max, along with their teenage daughter, had come to support her.

It was nice being surrounded by family. Hope had grown up with just her dad, her mom and had died during childbirth, along with what would have been Hope’s twin sister. She had her cousin Phoebe, who unfortunately hadn’t been able to make it to the exhibition, and her aunt and uncle, so she’d never been lonely, but she also hadn’t been surrounded by this many people who considered her family.

No one seemed to be about. Maybe the few stragglers had left while she was talking to Falcon, or they’d gone to check out the sirens and the crash. She, on the other hand, had no desire to go and see what had happened. Tonight had been amazing and she didn’t want anything to dampen the high she was still riding.

Not sure how long Falcon would be, Hope began to gather up the photos she’d displayed tonight. Falcon had been so amazing planning this all out for her, going to so much trouble, and it was kind of cool to think that people actually wanted to buy some of her photographs and display them in their homes or offices.

The sound of footsteps caught her attention, and she turned. “Oh, sorry, I thought everyone had already…,” she trailed off as a figure stepped out of the shadows.

It wasn’t anyone she recognized from the guest list, and did the man have…blood on his head?

Was he from the accident?

Maybe he’d been injured and was disoriented, wandering off into the park.

“Are you okay?” Hope took a step closer, but then immediately backtracked.

The man was wearing a prison jumpsuit.

He might have been involved in the crash, but if he was, then he was likely the cause of it. Because it looked like he had escaped from prison and was now in the park.

Alone with her.

That couldn’t be good.

Quickly she scanned the dark park, praying Falcon was already on his way back. If this man really was a prison escapee, then as soon as Falcon learned that, he’d panic and come looking for her.

Right?

And someone would tell him that right away, surely they would.

He’d come.

He had to come.

Hope didn’t even realize that she was edging backwards until the man moved with more speed and power than she’d thought was possible.

One second she was creeping away, the next she was yanked up against a huge chest, a man who had to be close to seven feet tall towering above her. One of his arms was clamped across her chest, and although she knew the chances of her getting away from him were virtually zero, she couldn’t not try.

Every single one of the self defense moves Falcon had taught her failed.

She failed.

A chuckle rumbled through the chest she was held against, and hot breath washed over her ear as he laughed at her. “You’re a very pretty ticket out of here. Wasn’t expecting to find such a hottie my first day of freedom. I’ve been locked up for a long time, sweetheart. Gone without a lot if you get my drift.”

Oh, she got his drift.

And she understood it meant bad things for her.

When something cold touched her temple and she realized it was a gun, she also realized her perfect evening had just gone to hell.

CHAPTER THREE

March 20th

11:01 P.M.

CARNAGE.

That was what Falcon thought as he reached the road and took in the overturned ambulance and two wrecked police cars.

Approaching the nearest vehicle first, he found two dead cops inside. Since he had a bad feeling about this, he hurried to the ambulance, which was between the two cop cars. One had slammed into the back of it and from the look of the front of the vehicle, he doubted anyone had survived.

There was only one reason he could think of that two police cars would be escorting an ambulance anywhere.

The patient was a criminal.

The ambulance was on its side, and as he looked into the back of it he found the EMT deceased, which left him with just one chance at finding out just how bad this situation was. There were several people milling about on the streets. He assumed someone had called 911, but there was every chance that the criminal being taken to hospital was out there somewhere because the gurney in the back of the ambulance was empty.

Clambering up onto the top of the vehicle, he wrenched open the passenger door and carefully maneuvered himself inside, making sure not to hurt the driver. The woman was covered in blood. It streaked down the side of her face, drenched her chest. If she was still alive, help had better get here quickly because it looked like she was bleeding out.

Balancing himself, he reached down and touched his fingers to the woman’s neck. At his touch, the driver stirred.

“Help is on the way,” he assured her. Playing the role of calm, reassuring rescuer wasn’t his strong suit, although he was sure Hope would disagree with him on that, but since he was the only one here at the moment, it wasn’t like he had a choice.

“Came out of nowhere,” the woman mumbled.

“Who did?”

“Big black van…hit the escort in front of us…couldn’t avoid the crash,” the woman related haltingly.

So someone had come to break the prisoner out. This was a planned set up, with a fake illness, possibly induced by some sort of drug, that would ensure that the prisoner would be taken to hospital rather than the prison’s own infirmary.

There was no black van anywhere he could see, which meant that it had taken off as soon as it had caused the accident. If they were smart—and so far it looked like this was a well-thought-out plan—then the van had already been ditched and they had moved on to another vehicle.

“He’s alive,” the woman continued.

Falcon knew that, given the back of the ambulance had only the other EMTs body.

“Saw him run off.”

“Did he get into the van?” It was the most likely scenario, but that didn’t mean he should assume it was the correct one. Criminals did all kinds of stupid things and there was a chance the escaping felon had run off on foot.

“He’s dangerous…convicted of seven sexual assaults and murders.” The woman looked like she was fading. Her skin was taking on a grayish tint and her words were slurring more with each sentence she uttered.

“Did he get into the van?” Falcon repeated, already reaching for his cell phone. This wasn’t a Prey case but this man needed to be found and locked back up behind bars before he got a chance to hurt anyone else. Prey would likely be able to find him before the cops just because they had access to better resources than the police department did.

“Ran into the park.”

Falcon froze, his finger poised in the air mid-type.

Into the park?

The park where it was dark and there were virtually no people?

The park where the woman he loved was alone and vulnerable?

“Hold on, help is coming,” he said as he climbed back out of the car. Staying and performing first aid was the right thing to do. Chances were that this escaped felon was nowhere near Hope, yet there was no way in hell he could stay here and not go after his woman.

Hope was his world. Nothing was more important than her.

So he jumped down from the ambulance and took off at a dead run.

There was only one thought in his mind, one thing he cared about—making sure that Hope was safe.

Fear for her gave him extra strength and he made it back to where just thirty minutes ago, he’d been watching in awe as Hope flitted around talking to the guests at her first exhibition, in wonder at how talented she was. The ring had been in his pocket and he’d been waiting for everyone else to leave so he could sing the song he’d written for her and get down on one knee and propose.

Now, she could be in danger.

Anyone who dared to put a hand on her, he would gladly tear to shreds. Falcon would burn the world down for Hope. No one touched what was his and that woman owned him body, mind, and soul.

“Please, I won’t tell anyone I saw you,” Hope’s terrified voice floated through the air, and white-hot rage gripped him in a vice.

Slowing his steps took serious effort, and he slipped into the cover of the trees. There was enough light from the fairy lights and candles for him to see what was going on.

Hope was pinned against the chest of a large man dressed in a blood streaked orange prison jumpsuit.

The escaped rapist and murderer.

Pressed against her temple was the barrel of a gun.

When he’d planned this exhibition he had specifically chosen the date because today was the first day of spring.

Spring was supposed to be about new birth, new beginnings, new life. Tonight was supposed to be about the first day of their new lives together, not about him starting a new life without the woman he loved.

CHAPTER FOUR

March 20th

11:10 P.M.

THIS WAS BAD.

This was so very bad.

The worst part was that Hope couldn’t see a way out of it.

Sure, sooner or later Falcon would realize what was going on and come looking for her but who knew when that would be. He was a good man. He tried to hide it behind his gruff exterior and reserved personality, but he cared. Cared about more than her and his family. He cared enough to help anyone who needed it.

By the time he knew that, there was an escaped felon on the loose and that she was caught in his crosshairs.

The guy was on the run. He’d somehow broken out of prison, in some sort of faked accident, if the blood was anything to go by. It wasn’t like he was going to take his time and hang around. She was his ticket out of here.

“Just go, please,” she begged. It was pointless. The man was a criminal, and he’d already made it more than clear that he intended to rape her, take her with him, and then probably kill her when he lost interest.

“I’m going, sweetheart, but you’re going with me.” His arm tightened, lifting her so that her feet were no longer on the ground, and began to move backwards, away from the light of the candles and fairy lights.

Away from her only chance at safety.

If the man got her away from here, then by the time Falcon knew what was going on and came to check on her she’d be long gone.

He’d never find her.

She’d disappear, her body buried in some shallow grave no one might ever find, or dumped like trash somewhere.

“I won’t tell anyone I saw you, you can just disappear.” It was a lie and they both knew it. There was no way Hope would ever pretend she hadn’t seen him but she didn’t have a lot of options here so she had to play everything out just in case something worked.

The man laughed. “I don’t think so, sweetheart. You’d squeal and we both know it. The only squealing that will be coming from you is when I have you beneath me. Nothing turns me on more than a woman’s screams of pain.” To make his point one of his large hands grabbed her breast and squeezed hard enough that she couldn’t hold in a whimper of pain.

A growl so feral it hardly sounded human came from behind them and the man spun around, grinding his weapon into her temple.

Falcon.

Her heart stuttered in her chest at the sight of him. He looked all dangerously protective standing there, a weapon of his own she hadn’t even known—although should have realized—he had on him tonight.

Although though the man holding her hostage had several inches on Falcon and matched her boyfriend in the muscle department, Falcon had a lethalness to him that would intimidate even the toughest of opponents.

The one with a gun to her head was no exception.

“Get your hands off my woman,” Falcon’s voice was low and steely, and completely steady. While she knew he had to be afraid for her you couldn’t detect an ounce of worry in his tone.

“Your woman was in the wrong place at the wrong time tonight. I’m not going back to prison. You want to live disappear, you want to join your woman in the afterlife then stay right where you are,” the man warned.

Hope had been afraid for her own safety but that was nothing compared to the fear she felt for the man she loved. Falcon had saved her life, risking his own in the process. He’d opened himself up to her, something she knew was hard for him, and he’d done his best to become the man she deserved even though she’d thought he was perfect from the moment they met.

Okay, not perfect, but perfect for her.

He was everything and she wasn’t letting him die tonight.

It was already too late for her. The man wanted sex from her and he was going to use her as a human shield to get himself to safety. Her fate had been sealed from the moment the man grabbed her. Falcon’s was not.

She wouldn’t let it be.

“I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you,” Falcon growled. Why did he have to go and be so stubborn? And why was she surprised? He would rather sacrifice himself to save her than run like a coward and save himself.

Obviously irritated, the man’s grip on her tightened. He was holding her high enough that she blocked his head and torso. Falcon could try to shoot him in the leg but that wouldn’t stop the man from putting a bullet in her brain.

This wasn’t the easiest hold to get out of, but Falcon and several members of his family had all drilled her in self defense moves. She’d been confident that she could get herself out of any hold in any situation, but there was a big difference between running drills in Prey’s gym with people she knew would never hurt her, and being in a real life situation.

You’ve survived way worse than this.

That was true.

She was a survivor, and she absolutely wasn’t going to be this criminal’s ticket to freedom.

“Should have listened to me,” the man said as he moved the gun away from her temple.

That was all she needed to make her play.

Hope performed several moves simultaneously. She rammed her head backwards, connecting with the man’s head hard enough to see stars, she ripped her nails through the flesh on the hand clamped on her shoulder, and she let her weight drop so that he had no choice but to compensate.

Compensate he did.

A gunshot ripped through the night.

The man released her and she dropped to her feet, already spinning to face him.

He growled, aimed at Falcon.

She didn’t think.

Just acted.

Another gunshot split through the quiet park.

Followed by another.

Pain shredded her chest and as she fell she prayed that Falcon hadn’t been hit.

CHAPTER FIVE

March 20th

11:18 P.M.

HOPE HAD TAKEN a bullet for him.

Overwhelming terror and pride warred within him. His woman was strong, a fighter, she didn’t give up and didn’t shy away from fighting for her life and those she cared about whatever the consequences.

But this time the consequences might be her life.

On shaky legs Falcon ran towards the woman he loved, who had just dropped lifelessly to the ground where she hadn’t moved.

The criminal—whoever he was—was dead. There was no point in checking. After years as a Delta Force operator, and then at Prey, Falcon knew how to hit what he aimed at, and he only ever took a kill shot. When Hope had pulled her little self defense move she’d saved his life, sending the man’s shot wide, plowing into a tree instead of Falcon’s gut. Hope had still been in the way, not giving him a clear shot, then she’d jumped in front of the man’s second bullet.

Where had it struck her and how badly was she hurt?

Hitting his knees at her side the first thing he saw was the blood drenching her chest.

Damn.

A heart shot?

If the bullet had pierced her heart, if she wasn’t dead now, then she would be before Hope could arrive. He’d hit the emergency alert button on his cell phone, which meant that his family had been alerted, and would come running, as would any Prey operatives anywhere nearby.

Help would come. The only question was whether it would get here in time to save the woman he adored.

“Hope?” he whispered as his fingers curled under her jaw, searching for a pulse.

There!

The weakest of fluttering beneath his fingertips reassured him that it wasn’t already too late. They still stood a chance. As long as she was alive, then he could save her.

He had to save her.

Without her he was nothing.

She hadn’t responded to his voice or his touch, but he wasn’t going to let her die.

Ripping off his suit jacket, he spread it over Hope. She was losing too much blood too quickly, heading towards hypovolemic shock, if she wasn’t there already. His shirt came off next and he balled it up and pressed it firmly against her wound, desperate to staunch the flow of blood that was pooling around them.

The pain of having someone press against her wound was enough to rouse his sweet girl. As relieved as he was to see her stirring, her whimper of pain gutted him. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her, but he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. If he didn’t put pressure on her wound she would bleed out. If he did, then he was adding to her pain.

“Honey, can you hear me?” he asked desperately. He needed to hear her voice, needed something to hold onto, hope that his Hope wasn’t about to leave him.

“Falcon?” Her voice was far too weak, the merest hint of a sound, but at least she was coherent enough to know he was here.

“Right here, honey, right here.”

“Did he…” she trailed off as though the effort of speaking was too great, but then somehow managed to rally a little more strength. “Did he hit you?”

That was what she was worried about right now?

Him?

While she was lying there, bleeding out in front of him, she was more worried about him than herself. If that wasn’t the epitome of the woman, he didn’t know what was.

“No, honey, he didn’t hit me. Because of you. You threw yourself in front of the bullet meant for me.”

“Course.” She said it like it was obvious.

“We are going to have words about that later,” he warned, praying there was going to be a later.

“Love you…would do anything for you,” she murmured, sounding even weaker than she had a moment ago.

“I love you too, honey, which is why you are never allowed to do that again.”

“I would.”

He knew she would too, which was what terrified him. Hope loved with her whole heart, her whole being, her whole soul, which meant there was nothing she wouldn’t do for those she loved. And she loved him as much as he loved her.

“Can’t lose you, baby,” he whispered, lowering his forehead to rest against hers.

“Sorry…didn’t mean to…get hit.”

“I know, honey.”

“Don’t want to…leave you.”

“You won’t…you can’t. You fight, Hope. Okay, baby? You don’t give up and you don’t let go.” If he could order her not to die he’d do it in a heartbeat. But there was no order he could give that would stop each beat of her heart bringing her closer to death.

“Try.”

“Normally that would be enough, baby, but not this time. This time you can’t fail. I can’t go on without you.”

Lashes fluttered against cheeks that were unnaturally pale, and then very slowly her gray-green eyes opened. They were hazy with pain, the effort it took for her to remain conscious evident in the bracketed lines around her mouth. But his girl never gave up.

“You…can,” she said softly, but insistently. “Always…love you…Falcon.”

Her eyes slid closed and he felt her fade away.

Leaving him.

“No!” he howled into the night. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and in his pocket sat the engagement ring that might now never have a chance to sit on the hand of the woman it was designed for.

Before him, his very life was bleeding out, dripping away one scarlet drop of blood at a time until nothing would be left.

Nothing but a man who had thought himself incapable of falling in love, who had somehow been lucky enough to find a light in the dark calling out to him, guiding him home, only to have that light snuffed out.

Leaving him alone, once again, in the dark.

CHAPTER SIX

March 21st

10:22 P.M.

PAIN.

So much pain.

Only it wasn’t her pain that Hope felt.

She was wrapped in a bubble. Light, warm, safe, anchored to this world by a hold on her hand, of all things.

As easy as it might be to give in to the feeling to let go, float away, to a place where this was only peace and joy, Hope couldn’t allow herself to do it.

Leaving would bring too much grief and sorrow.

Grief and sorrow she couldn’t be responsible for.

Her mom was waiting for her in that place, along with the twin sister who hadn’t been given a chance at life. While she loved them both they weren’t Falcon.

Her man needed her.

So she couldn’t let go.

Instead, she fought her way back.

Fought through the fluffy white clouds that engulfed her, through the confusion that made it difficult to think, through everything and anything that stood between her and the man she loved.

His pain was a constant guide, leading her like a lighthouse through the ocean separating her from the one person who needed her the most. She couldn’t stand him hurting, wanted to wash it all away, and the only way to do that was to come back to him.

It seemed to take a very long time.

Slowly things began to filter into her subconscious.

Smells came first; the most notable, an antiseptic fragrance that screamed hospital.

Next came sounds: the soft beep of machines, the faint whisper of voices.

Memories were next: the photography exhibition, the park, the man with the gun, the shots, the pain, the blood, the knowledge she was dying.

Then came her sense of touch. As the roaring pain from her wound came back, so did the hand clutching hers.

Falcon.

Her hero, her savior, the man she would take a bullet for, and fight off death’s clutches to come back to.

Her everything.

Vision was the last of her senses to return, and as her heavy eyes blinked slowly open the first thing she saw was the man she loved sitting hunched in a chair beside her bed. His head rested on the mattress beside her hip. Both of his hands were locked over one of hers, even in sleep maintaining his protective hold.

Hope opened her mouth, tried to speak, but found she couldn’t. Her throat was sandpaper dry.

Instead she concentrated all her energy on the hand Falcon clutched, and focused on just wriggling her fingers.

The movement was barely anything, but it was enough for Falcon’s head to jerk up.

His eyes were bloodshot. There was more scruff than usual on his jaw even though she was sure she couldn’t have been out for more than a day, and if she wasn’t mistaken there were tear tracks on his cheeks.

Tear tracks.

Falcon never cried.

As soon as his gaze landed on hers and he saw her looking back at him, she felt him relax.

“My beautiful strong, sweet, stupid girl,” he murmured, standing so he could lean over her and touch a kiss to her forehead.

Hope drank in the feel of his lips on her, so the kiss was to her forehead instead of her lips, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he was here, and she was here, and the escaped villain was presumably dead, and…

“Did you call me stupid?” she asked, her voice came out scratchy and insubstantial, but the indignant tone she’d intended was still there.

Giving her that one-sided smile she knew so well and loved so much he lowered the railing and perched on the bed beside her. “Well you did take a bullet for me, can’t say as that’s too smart.”

“Hey.” If she had enough strength she would have punched him in the shoulder.Instead she was just content to lie here, resting against her pillows, and stare at the man she could have lost.

“Not a good trade, baby. You for me, never going to be a good trade off.” From the look on Falcon’s face, he believed that with absolute sincerity. “I’m the one with the training. I save you, you don’t ever try to save me. Understand.”

Oh, yeah, she understood.

He’d been utterly terrified that he was going to lose her, and if he had he would have blamed himself.

“No deal,” she croaked, and he frowned at her even as he reached over and grabbed a cup of cool water with a straw, holding it to her lips.

“The only deal.”

Hope took a long sip, let the water soothe her dry throat. “Nuh uh. Never. I love you, you love me, I’m never going to not try to save you if I can.”

The smile he gave her was tender, and his knuckles brushed across her cheek. She probably should ask about her injuries, how long she’d been in the hospital, if the man who had tried to kill them was dead, but truth was she didn’t care about any of that. She had everything she needed right here.

“This is not the way I wanted to do this. I had it all planned out. After the exhibition, once everyone had left, I was going to do it then. With the lights and the candles, it would have been romantic, I even wrote you a song I was going to sing to you. But I don’t want to wait. I almost lost you, and I can’t ever go through that again.” Falcon pulled something out of his pocket.

A small, black velvet box.

Her eyes flew to his.

The sparkles drew her gaze back to the box as the ring inside caught the dull light in the hospital room and used to sparkle incandescently.

“Hope Delancey, will you make me the luckiest man in the world and marry me?”

Tears streamed down her face. Nothing would make her happier than marrying the man she loved more than life itself.

“Yes, of course, always, I love you,” she babbled.

Falcon slipped the ring on her finger and then leaned in to very gently kiss her lips.

“You were going to sing for me? You wrote a song for me?” After his mother’s murder Falcon had stopped singing, but he’d done it for her when she was sick in Colombia, and she had a feeling he had likely sung as he kept vigil over here in the hospital.

“I’ll sing it for you another day. Maybe at our wedding.”

“Now,” she murmured, her energy reserves depleted, Hope could feel herself fading, her body needing sleep to recover. What better way to drift off than to her amazing man singing to her, proving his love for her day, after day, after day, until they shared an entire lifetime of love.

Want to read how Falcon and Hope met and survived battling human traffickers deep in the Colombian Rainforest? Read their action-packed, emotional story in the military romantic suspense Prey Security series!

Protecting Falcon (Prey Security #3)

About the Author

USA Today bestselling author Jane Blythe writes action-packed romantic suspense and military romance featuring protective heroes and heroines who are survivors. One of Jane’s most popular series includes Saving SEALs, part of Susan Stoker’s OPERATION ALPHA world! Writing in that world alongside authors such as Janie Crouch and Riley Edwards has been a blast, and she looks forward to bringing more books to this genre, both within and outside of Stoker’s world. When Jane isn’t binge-reading she’s counting down to Christmas and adding to her 200+ teddy bear collection!

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THE FIRST DATE

JANET BERRY

CHAPTER ONE

CHECKING HER WATCH, Maggie sighed.

He’s late.

Ignoring the pitying looks from the next table, she flagged down her waiter and ordered a second glass of chardonnay. He set it down and asked her if she wanted to order, but she told him she would wait a couple more minutes.

Why did you agree to this blind date again?

Because when your cousin sets you up on a blind date with someone she says is perfect for you, you don’t argue. Especially not with Harper.

Maggie could only hope that he wasn’t always late for everything. She hated to be late and was always early. She arrived at Cru ten minutes early, standing outside until seven, then coming inside to be seated.

She checked her watch again. 7:25.

“A half hour late,” she whispered with a sigh.

I think I’ve been stood up.

She reached over to the chair next to her and grabbed her purse, pulling her phone from the bag.

Unlocking it and opening her texts, she typed a message to Harper. She was about to hit send when the restaurant door opened.

She had to physically restrain her jaw from dropping when the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen walked in, his brown eyes pinning her to her seat when he looked in her direction.

“Maggie?” he asked, walking over to the table.

She sat frozen for a moment before she realized he’d spoken to her.

“Yes!” she said, covering her mouth, a pink flush covering her face. “Yes, sorry.”

She stood and held out her hand. “Grant Cooper, right?”

His large hand engulfed hers, his grip firm as he shook her hand.

“That’s what my mother calls me,” he replied, his supple lips kicking up at one side. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

He released her hand and came around to help her with her chair.

Smoothing her hand down the short, dark-blue dress she wore, she sat down, scooting in easily with his assistance.

“Thank you,” she said, watching him sit.

It was like Henry Cavill was sitting across from her.

He’s gorgeous. Thank you, Harper.

“I wanted to apologize for running late,” he said. He grabbed his napkin, tucking it into the lap of his tailored blue suit.

He wore no tie, and his white button-down had two buttons undone at the top, exposing a subtle dusting of dark chest hair.

A sliver of heat raced through her as she eyed the soft skin there, wondering what it tasted like.

Been that long, huh?

It really had.

“I hope everything’s all right,” she said, taking a sip of wine to try to calm her racing heart.

“It was,” he replied, setting his napkin in his lap. “There was a woman and her son on the side of the road trying to replace a tire. I stopped to help since it looked like they might have been having some trouble.”

She hid her smile behind her glass, pleasantly surprised by him. She’d known a lot of selfish people who wouldn’t stop to help.

“Hopefully, you didn’t get too dirty,” she said, motioning to the grease stain on his undone cuff.

He shook his head. “Not at all.” He tugged the blue fabric up to reveal the clean white shirt underneath.

“What are you drinking?” he asked, pointing to her glass.

“Chardonnay,” she replied, taking another sip. “This is, admittedly, my second glass.”

He flagged the waiter down, ordering a glass for himself. “It’s that good?”

She nodded. “It is.”

Maggie wouldn’t tell him she drank the entire first glass in a nervous rush.

They exchanged a little small talk about the food while they browsed the menu, Maggie finally deciding on what she wanted.

Maggie set the menu down. “Are you ready?”

He looked up at her. “I am. You?”

She nodded, the thick, curly hair on her head shifting ever so slightly. She could only pray that the army of bobby pins she put in would hold the chaos in place until the date was over.

“Great.” Grant raised his hand to signal the waiter.

He arrived at the table and they ordered, Grant treating the waiter with respect and courtesy.

So hot. Who didn’t like a respectful man?

She could tell a lot about a man based on how he treated a waiter.

The menus and waiter removed from the table, he looked at her, a super sexy smile on his face.

His teeth are so white. Wonder what kind of toothpaste he uses?

She shook those thoughts away when his lips moved.

“So, where should we start?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” She arched a dark brow.

“Where should we start with getting to know one another? Should we start with work or family? Or interests?” At the last question, his brown eyes heated.

Her face warmed, and she reached out to grab her glass of wine, taking a big gulp.

“How about family?” she asked, certain that talking about her parents would kill her arousal.

“Okay.” He set his elbows on the table, clasping his large hands together.

A brief image of his hands skimming her naked thigh flashed across her mind, and she looked away, shifting in the chair to relieve some of the pressure throbbing between her legs.

“I have twin younger siblings, a brother and a sister. Parents are still together and happy.” Grant took a sip of his wine, then continued, “Twins are thirty; one is married, and one is engaged. She’s getting married in December.”

Maggie’s lips kicked up at the side. “Parents on you to get with someone too?”

A small chuckle escaped him. “They are indeed. Are your parents the same?”

She sighed, clapping her hands together dramatically.

“Oh, yes.” She put her hands down. “My mother is so upset that my baby sister is married with two babies at thirty, and I’m thirty-three and don’t even have a boyfriend.” She glanced down at her hands. “It’s not that I want to be single. I want to find what they have. That fun, serious at times love where you grow old together.” Maggie looked over at him with a shrug. “I just haven’t found it yet.”

“I’m thirty-six and still not married. My mom made a joke the other day when I was visiting that if I don’t have a girlfriend by the time I’m forty, she’s going to look into a matchmaker.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I love my mother, but I want the same as you. Someone who I’ll keep falling in love with through the years.”

Her heart pitter-pattered, and she shoved it away, determined not to fall immediately in love with the gorgeous man in front of her.

Everyone knew insta-love wasn’t real.

“We’re on the same page there,” she quipped. “What about work? Harper told me that you’re a lawyer.”

“I’m a lawyer, yes. I’m currently working with the Center for Reproductive Rights and their teams to fight the abortion bans that are being put in place by the states.”

Maggie’s brows shot high, her attraction to this man increasing with every new thing she learned about him.

“Is that something you believe in?” she asked, praying for his response to be the one she wanted for the first time in a long time.

“Of course. A woman’s right to choose is fundamental, and the precedent this act sets will hurt many people.” Purpose lit the dark chocolate of his eyes. “If I didn’t believe in it, I wouldn’t have volunteered to join the team.”

“That is so sexy,” she said, a smile brightening his face.

“Thank you,” he replied. “What about you?”

“Oh, I’m one hundred percent for the right to choose. My sister had an ectopic last year and if they hadn’t gotten her into surgery immediately, she would have died. Two little girls would have lost their mother.”

Tears welled up, and she took a deep breath, calming herself.

“I’m sorry,” she said, dabbing her eyes with her napkin. “It makes me so angry.”

Grant placed his hand over hers, and Maggie did her best not to jump at the spark that slipped between them.

“My sister had two miscarriages in the last year,” he said, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. “I’m fighting for her. And all the women in my life.”

“We appreciate it,” Maggie replied. “Giving up is not an option. I’m so glad the firm I work for supports women’s rights and is doing their part to ensure that their employees have access to the healthcare they need.”

The waiter appeared with their dinners, and Grant pulled his hand from hers with a gentle squeeze.

Everything was placed neatly on the table. Grant ordered another glass of wine, the waiter disappearing once again.

Cutting into his dinner, he asked her, “What are you usually doing on a Friday night?”

She glanced at him, her blue eyes rounding. “I’m not out every Friday night if that’s what you’re asking.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t mean it like that. I was wondering what else you do on Friday nights. I’m usually reading briefs or filling out paperwork on my couch, so anything is better than that.”

The side of her mouth kicked up into a smile, the slight lift lighting her face.

“You’re very beautiful,” he said, her jaw falling open a bit.

“Oh, thank you,” she replied, a pink tinge covering her cheeks.

He took her in, his desire ramping up as he devoured her voluptuous curves, tucked so wonderfully in that short blue dress she wore.

She wore black stilettos, his dick hardening further at the image of her sprawled on his bed in nothing but those heels.

Calm down, Grant.

Clearing his throat, he said, “You never did answer my question.”

“About what I do on Fridays?”

“Yes.”

She took a bite, and he could see her mind working to come up with something interesting.

He leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, “It’s okay if you sit on the couch and watch funny shows or horror movies. That’s what I’d like to be doing.”

She covered her mouth with her hand as she giggled, taking a moment to swallow before she replied, “Well, that’s pretty much it. You know all there is to know.”

Maggie set her silverware down, crossing her arms on the table. “Most Fridays, I sit in front of the TV watching Food Network. I love food shows, but I’m hopeless when it comes to cooking. I’ve tried though.”

She resumed her meal. “I even took a cooking class. The poor chef in charge felt so bad for me, but he politely asked me to leave when I accidentally set fire to the stove.” Her face turned a lovely shade of pink. “I felt so bad I refused the refund they tried to give me.”

He covered his mouth, trying to choke back his laughter. “I’m so sorry. I’m not laughing at you, I promise.”

Maggie waved her hands. “It’s okay. I’ve accepted that I’ll never be the wonderful cook my mother is.” Her chest puffed up. “I can make a mean boxed macaroni and cheese, though.”

“I like boxed macaroni and cheese,” he replied, taking a sip of his wine. “Mom used to make it for dinner all the time when we were growing up, and it’s still a regular favorite.”

They fell into a companionable silence as they ate, a layer of tension falling over the table.

Shifting in his chair, his foot bumped into hers, the stiletto catching in the lace of his dress shoe.

“I think I’m stuck,” she said, leaning down to inspect the situation, giving Grant a delectable view of the tops of her breasts.

His dick stirred, hardening against the tight fabric of his pants.

“Let me,” he said, lifting his long leg. His knee bumped the table so he angled his leg, drawing her heeled foot with him.

He leaned to the side to get a better angle and reached down to wrap his hand around her ankle.

He felt the shiver go through her and coughed to cover up his smile.

Reaching underneath her shoe, he untied his lace, setting the stiletto free.

As he adjusted his leg back down, his hand slipped up hers, teasing the soft skin under his hand. A small sound slipped from his dinner companion, and his trousers got even tighter.

With a gentle squeeze of her calf, he let her go, the heel landing with a soft click on the tiled floor.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice breathy and light. She settled her napkin back in her lap and grabbed her wine, taking a big drink.

He shifted in his chair, adjusting himself.

Maggie was tall and lean with soft auburn hair, some curly strands hanging down to frame her face. Her face was slim, and her nose was petite, her lips pink and pouty.

Her blue eyes were almost gray, a soft heat lingering there.

She is gorgeous. Thank you, Harper.

She tucked one of the loose curls behind her ear as she set her glass down.

“Did you enjoy law school?” she asked. She took a bite and grabbed her napkin, dabbing at the sauce that dribbled down her chin.

Without thinking, he reached over and wiped away the leftover sauce. He bit back a growl when she caught his thumb between her lips and licked the sauce off.

Her tongue was soft and warm against his thumb, the heat sending a thrill down his spine.

“Thank you,” she said. A sultry smile teased her lips.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, pulling his hand back to resume his dinner.

They were quiet for a few minutes before he remembered she had asked him about law school.

“I loved law school,” he said, taking a drink of his wine. “It was rough, but a lot of fun.”

Their eyes met over his glass. “I don’t miss it, though.”

Grant sighed, placing the glass down on the table. “I know some people say they’d do it all over again for the memories, but I wouldn’t.”

Maggie laughed and swallowed her bite of food. “I know that feeling. I was asked once if I’d go back to college. Even though it was one of the best times of my life, I wouldn’t want to go back. I’ve grown a lot and am moving forward.”

He grabbed his glass. “To moving forward.”

She clinked her glass against his, the sound tinkling around the table. “To growing up.”

They both took a quick drink and set their glasses down.

“Have you lived in Austin all your life?” Grant asked between bites.

The curls bounced when Maggie nodded. “Born and raised in the Hill Country. You?”

“I lived in Dallas until I moved to Austin to go to UT. I decided to go to UT for the name and the prestige, not to mention one of the top-rated law schools.”

Her auburn brow arched high, and she asked the one question he’d heard so many times over the years. “What about Harvard?”

He laughed, confusion coming over her face. “Harvard is great. And yes, it is the top law school in the country. However, I wanted to stay close to home and my family, so I chose to go to UT.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “Does that mean you didn’t get in so you decided to stay here?”

Grant sighed a dramatic sigh. “Looks like you caught me.”

Her brows shot up. “Really?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I really did go to UT so I could be near my family.”

He pinned her with a glance. “What about you?”

“I went to A&M. Yes, I know, I know,” she said as soon as he reacted. “I got my bachelor’s in Finance with a minor in Economics. I then went on to get a master’s in Finance.”

“You lost me at A&M,” he said, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “I’m not sure I should even be seen with an Aggie.”

She rolled her eyes with a laugh. “It’s not a big deal, okay? Geez! Sound like everyone at my office.”

Her fork clanked against the plate when she set it down. “Besides, my boss is also an Aggie, but his wife went to UT. If they can get along, so can we.”

“I give, I give,” he said, holding up his hands. “A master’s in Finance? That is very sexy.”

“What is?” she asked, the pink flush creeping up again.

“Your brain,” he replied, staring into her eyes. “Smart is very, very sexy.”

The flush deepened, and she tugged at her lip with her teeth.

Grant suppressed the urge to lean over and show her how sexy he thought she was.

“Thank you,” she whispered, looking down at her hands. She looked back at him, a sparkle in the gray-blue depths, along with the heat he’d seen earlier.

The waiter arrived a few moments later and asked about dessert.

Grant glanced at the waiter, then back at Maggie. “I’m delightfully full. How about you?”

Maggie set her elbows on the table, clasping her hands together. “I think I’m finished.”

“Great,” Grant said. “We’ll take the check now.”

CHAPTER TWO

THE WAITER BROUGHT THE CHECK, and Grant paid, insisting on covering it for them since Harper was her cousin, and she’d set them up.

Once the bill was paid and the waiter generously tipped, they left the restaurant. The familiar strains of Sunday Kind of Love by Etta James filled the small courtyard outside the restaurant.

“I love this song,” she said, sliding the gold chain of her purse over her head.

“Would you like to dance with me?” he asked, pointing to another couple who was already dancing.

Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of his hands on her. She swallowed roughly but replied, “Yes, I would.”

They stepped close to one another, and Grant placed his hand on the small of her back, taking her hand in his.

She placed her free hand on his shoulder, hoping the one in his wasn’t too sweaty from her nerves.

Tucking her firmly against him, he began to move.

Maggie took a couple of deep breaths and tried to relax. His large, warm hand on her back made it difficult, heat building as they moved.

Grant leaned his head against hers, and she melted into his arms. He released her hand and moved his to her waist, the heat from his palm sinking into her hip.

Her arousal heightened. She tried to calm her racing heart. His woodsy cologne filled her nostrils, notes of sandalwood and vanilla a pleasant mix. She placed her hand on his chest, the beat solid under her palm. His soft breathing in her ear sent chills through her.

The song ended, but he didn’t let go, continuing the dance into the next song.

Soft chirps of crickets filled the warm August night, the slight breeze rustling through the trees above.

“I can’t remember the last time I felt so relaxed,” he whispered. Goosebumps covered her arms at the low timbre, his voice breathy but firm, the sound intoxicating.

“Can I tell you something?” she asked. He drew back, the dark mahogany gazing at her.

“Of course,” he replied. Concern clouded his gaze.

“I can’t remember when I’ve felt this relaxed either.” The concern receded, in its place a scorching warmth.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” she whispered. She placed her hand on his clean-shaven cheek and leaned up, brushing her lips over his.

Grant’s lips were soft beneath hers, the fruity flavor of the chardonnay lingering there.

She sighed and moved her hand to the base of his neck, threading her fingers through his thick, dark hair.

A soft growl escaped him, and she thrilled, molten heat gathering at her core.

He squeezed her waist and moved his hand to her bottom to cup the firm globe, her gasp slipping between them.

Leaning back, he broke the kiss. “I think we should go somewhere a little more private, don’t you?”

She took a deep breath. “I do.” Pointing to the apartment building across the street, she said, “It’s a good thing I live right there.” She grabbed his hand. “Come on.”

He followed close, stopping every few feet to press her against the wall to kiss her or touch her, fanning the flames inside her.

After ten achingly long minutes, they arrived at her apartment. Maggie fumbled in her bag for her keys, and a soft moan slipped from her lips when he grabbed her hips and pressed his firm body to her butt, nipping at her neck with his perfect teeth.

Voices filled the hall, and he whispered, “Hurry.”

“I’m going,” she replied, a relieved sigh escaping her when the key slid into the lock with ease. She unlocked the door and shoved it open, dragging him inside.

The door was barely closed behind them before his hands were on her.

He skimmed his hands down her sides, tracing every dip and curve along the way. Halting at the edge of the fabric, he traced it with his fingers, goosebumps rippling down her spine.

Placing her hands on his head, she pulled his lips back to hers, wrapping her arms around his neck. He pressed further against her, and she realized she was still wearing her purse, the small bag crushed between them, her keys still in hand.

Breaking the kiss to push him away, she removed the bag. She set it and her keys down on her small dining table and tugged him back to her, resuming the kiss.

He hauled her into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist of their own accord, then asked, “Bedroom?”

She pointed, and he headed that way, shoving the door open with his foot.

A meow permeated her lusty haze, and she turned as best she could to see her cat, Ginny, curled up on the bed.

“You have a cat?” he asked, putting her down. Walking over to the bed, he kneeled on the floor, placing his hand on the pumpkin-colored comforter in front of Ginny.

She sniffed his presented hand and got up, rubbing against his fingers.

Her brows shot high. “Well, call me surprised.”

He glanced back at her. “What do you mean?”

She came over to the bed and sat, reaching out to pet the orange tabby. “She hates all men.”

His brows scrunched adorably. “Really?”

Purring filled the bedroom. “Really. The only exception is my dad, and sometimes my brother-in-law.”

He scratched Ginny’s ears, then her chin, the cat shoving herself against him for more love.

“I like her,” he said, looking at the cat. His dark eyes turned to her. “I like her owner, too.”

Her face warmed for what felt like the tenth time tonight, the blushes getting out of control.

“Well,” she said, drawing the snuggly cat into her arms. “I like you, too.”

She left the bedroom with Ginny, placing her gently into her favorite spot on her cat tree before handing her a toy mouse to play with.

Coming back into the bedroom, she shut the door behind her.

Grant was seated on the edge of the bed, his blue jacket draped over the dark-purple chair in the corner.

He slowly unbuttoned his cuffs, moving to the buttons on his shirt as she watched. When he reached the bottom, he stood, pulling the shirt from his pants to undo the rest.

Molten heat spread through her with each inch of skin revealed, the sprinkling of chest hair she saw earlier trailing down to disappear into his trousers.

He dragged the shirt from his broad, muscular shoulders and tossed it on the chair.

Maggie reached up and pulled the bobby pins from her hair, releasing the curls from their prison. Freeing the last curl, she tossed the last pin to her dresser. Reaching behind her, she grabbed for her zipper to pull it down.

She shimmied out of the dress, placing it on her dresser with the pins.

He kicked off his shoes and unbuttoned his pants, dragging them off one leg at a time. Tossing them to the chair, he put his hands on his waist.

“You look amazing,” he said, breaking the silence.

“Thank you,” she replied, tucking a curl behind her ear. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

A grin appeared. “Thanks.”

She pointed to his feet. “Socks.”

He looked down, then reached down to remove them, the small pieces of fabric sailing off into the abyss behind her bed.

Her eyes wandered over his body, drinking in the sight of his rugged forearms and biceps, the broad shoulders narrowing into a lean but muscular chest.

The grin he wore shifted to a heated gaze, and he crossed the room to her. Dragging her into his arms, he kissed her, pressing her to the wall next to her bathroom door.

A gasp came from between her lips as the cold wall met her warm, naked skin, the sensation a surprise.

She threaded her fingers through his hair, his hands on her thighs, squeezing and teasing her.

He moved his hands to her waist, and she sucked in a breath, the heat from his hands searing her skin. He skimmed one hand across her belly, and her body tightened in anticipation.

Breaking the kiss, he whispered, “Relax.” Her body instantly softened under him.

His hand lingered at the band of her lace panties, then slipped underneath, his fingers dipping into her wet heat.

Sparks shot through her, desire crashing over her in small waves.

Maggie murmured something unintelligible when he firmly teased her clit, her legs falling open to give him better access. He sank a finger inside her, and she moaned, taking deep breaths to try to calm the storm raging inside her. She didn’t want this to end yet.

She had great sex before, but this was different. She wasn’t sure why, but she liked it.

He slipped a second finger inside, and she cursed, grabbing his hand as he pleasured her.

Grant thrust his fingers in and then pulled them out, repeating the torture.

She held onto the wall with her other hand as she rode his, his long fingers playing her body as easily as an instrument.

Maggie squirmed against him, her desire racing higher. Her legs shook beneath her, and she was worried she would fall if he let go.

That would be embarrassing.

His hand on her waist slid behind her, the black strapless bra she wore dropping between them.

A nervous giggle slipped out. The same hand that undid the bra moved between them to toss it away.

Her amusement disappeared, and her attention was drawn back to his fingers deep inside her when he arched his fingers, changing the angle of his thrusts.

“Grant… yes…” she whispered, her body tensing as her back arched off the wall.

He cupped her breast in his hand, rolling the tender nipple between his fingers, his warm mouth closing around it and drawing it deep.

He nipped it gently, and she gasped, heat racing between her chest and pussy, pushing her orgasm closer to the edge.

So close.

He removed his hands from her body, ripping a frustrated groan from her. Then he dropped to his knees and stripped the lace from her hips, burying his face in her pussy and sucking her clit deep into his mouth.

Maggie cried out, grabbing his head as her orgasm exploded through her, her thighs clenching around his head with each shudder.

His body slid up hers, penetrated her lustful fog, his voice drawing her back to the moment.

“Maggie,” he said, cupping her face in his palms.

Her vision cleared, and she saw him standing in front of her.

“Maggie,” he whispered, running his thumb over her cheek.

“I’m all right,” she blurted out, a grin reappearing on his face.

“Good.” He leaned down and kissed her, their mouths mingling for a few pleasant moments.

His hard, now naked cock bumped her stomach. She reached down, grabbing his dick in a firm grasp. Stroking him from base to tip as she pleasured him, a loud groan rumbled in his chest. He planted his hands on the wall beside her and leaned his head on her neck, switching between bites and kisses.

He was thick, easily more than a handful as she worked her hands on his rod. He thrust in her hand, small grunts filling her ear, his pleasure stoking the fire of her arousal.

“Maggie, where are your condoms?” he gritted out. Maggie released him with a final squeeze.

“In the nightstand,” she whispered, watching him open the drawers to grab one, his hard cock jutting out as he walked.

Moving to the bed, she waited for him.

Grant turned to her, and she pointed to the bed. “Lie down.”

His brows shot high, and he had to tamp down the excitement that threatened to make him come before he was even inside her. He hadn’t been this randy since he was a teenager.

He lay on the bed, a soft grunt dragged from him when she straddled him; the heat of her body on his cock was almost too much for him.

She leaned down and kissed him, teasing his dick with her soaked pussy. He dug his hands into her hips with a growl, her tinkling laughter escaping.

Taking his gloved cock in her hand, she guided him inside her, a groan accompanying the exquisite slide down his cock.

As he leaned up and cupped her breasts, her hips moved slowly at first, then with more enthusiasm. Drawing one of her dusty rose nipples into his mouth, he sucked it deep, pinching and rolling the other in his hand with care.

A dark-red flush covered Maggie’s face and chest and desire rushed through him, heat gathering in his balls at the sight.

He took her other nipple in his mouth and slipped a hand between them, pinching and teasing her clit.

“Fuck,” she grunted, her nails digging into his shoulders as her body shook, her orgasm hitting her.

Her pussy clenched his dick tightly. He buried his face in her neck, thrusting into her. Grabbing her shoulders, he thrust into her once more, his balls tightening as he exploded inside her.

Their shivers finally subsided, and he removed and disposed of the condom, coming back to gather her into his arms under the covers.

“That was pretty fantastic,” she whispered.

“I agree,” he replied, soft snoring reaching his ears as she fell into sleep.

He chuckled at the new revelation and pulled her close, tucking the comforter over him as he nodded off.

CHAPTER THREE

MAGGIE CRACKED her eyes open and stretched. Sad laughter filled the room at the cracks of her joints.

“You sound like me in the morning,” Grant said, coming into the bedroom with two hot cups of coffee.

She took a cup from him, taking a sip.

Her eyes widened. “This is perfect,” she said. “Really perfect. How did you know?”

A sheepish grin came to his face, and he put a hand on the back of his head. “I might have texted Harper and asked her what you liked.” He looked at the ceramic mug. “She also might have brought the coffee here.”

She held hers up, trying not to laugh. “I appreciate all the effort. It’s amazing coffee.”

They were quiet for a few minutes.

“Well,” she said, setting her coffee cup down in her lap, “Today is Saturday. Are you, um, doing anything today?”

He put his hand on his chin in contemplation. “Well, I do have these files to go over and some other things.”

Disappointment settled in her belly.

“But,” he said, setting the coffee cup down on the nightstand, “I’m going to spend the day in bed, with you.”

He grabbed her coffee cup and put it on the nightstand.

“Oh, you are?” she asked, leaning back as he crawled into bed with her, letting the covers fall away from her naked body.

“I am,” he replied. “And I’m going to do this…”

She groaned as he slipped his fingers into her wet heat.

“Oh…” she sighed, a squeak echoing through the room when he pinched her clit.

“And this…” he whispered, showing her what he meant.

“Oh, I like that…”

About the Author

Janet Berry is a Texas-based author of multiple novels spanning a variety of romance sub-genres. She still has the first book she ever wrote when she was 14 (and she uses the term book very lightly.)

When she is not hiding in her office writing, she enjoys watching cop shows, military shows, and lots of cooking shows. (Even though she isn’t that great of a cook!) She also constantly annoys her fur children (and probably her human child, too) by taking way too many photos of them and they often end up on her Instagram.

She also enjoys streaming on the web streaming service, Twitch.tv and you can find her there playing video games.

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DANCE POLES AND TEA FOR TWO

FAKE START BONUS

JASMIN MILLER

HUNTER WALKS into the kitchen and moves his large hands around my midsection from behind, sneaking under my tank top to squeeze my naked flesh.

He kisses my shoulder. “What are you still doing down here? I thought you wanted to come to bed?”

A look at the clock confirms his statement. Damn it, how did twenty-five minutes pass in a blip?

“I did.” I hold up my phone so he can see the screen. “I was looking up something for the boys and Lily when the notification from my photo app popped up. You know how much I love seeing old photos, and today there were some from our weekend retreat.”

“Aaaaah.” Hunter’s hands wander around under my shirt, gently caressing my skin. “The famous weekend that started it all.”

“Sometimes I still can’t believe I agreed to fake-date you. I mean, who does something like that?”

He chuckles. “We did. And thank God for that. Best decision ever, not to mention, so many good memories too.”

I try not to rub myself all over him, even though I feel his hard length pressing into me. “Oh, yeah? Do you have a favorite one?”

His fingers skim along the edge of my sleep shorts. “Mmmm, definitely the hot tub. I’ll never forget the moment I first saw you naked, and the way you looked sprawled out at the edge of it while I ate you out.”

“I wanted you so badly.” Tingles run through my body at the memory, mixing with the flames licking at my skin from Hunter’s touch.

He was the first man who touched me after my divorce, and he made me feel like a million bucks. No one had ever made me feel the way he did, the way he still does.

“How badly, baby?” His fingers push past the waistband and between my legs. “Fuck, you’re so wet.” His voice is rough next to my ear, his breath harsh on my skin.

I drop my head back and lean on his shoulder. “Just as badly as I want you now.”

Hunter takes advantage of the newly exposed skin on my neck by sucking and licking on it while also pumping one, then two fingers inside of me at a leisurely pace. I whimper when he pulls them out, but moan quietly when he moves them to my clit to rub it in firm circles. Just the way I like it.

He groans. “Do you remember how I first fucked you on the bathroom counter?”

“God, yes.”

“I was so desperate for you.” After another few firm circles, he pushes back inside of me. “Did I ever tell you, that was the moment I realized I’d fallen for you?”

“W-what?” My brain takes a moment to catch up, this conversation taking a totally different turn than I’d expected.

“I’ve always liked you, even while you were married to that douchebag. Does it make me a bad person because I was secretly happy when your brother told me you guys were getting a divorce?”

The lust fog is thick and hard to break through, but eventually, I succeed. “Wait a second.”

His fingers pump into me. Once. Twice.

So good. So tempting.

Somehow, I manage to pull away from him, the loss of his fingers filling me making me feel empty. “How did I not know about this?”

“About what?”

“That you felt this way. I knew you’d noticed Daniel’s lack of attention and our issues over the years, but you never told me you felt this way.”

Hunter shrugs. “I don’t know. It never came up, I guess. Not only were you married, but you were also my best friend’s sister.”

I huff.

The corner of his mouth lifts. “Noah’s very, very hot older sister.”

I shake my head at his boyish grin. “You’re impossible.”

He closes the distance between us and pushes me against the kitchen island. “Just telling the truth. When I first saw you, I thought you were the hottest thing I’d ever seen, and I wanted you so badly, but couldn’t have you. You were starting a family … with your husband. And I knew you only saw me as your little brother’s younger friend. You weren’t ready for me yet, and I needed some more time to grow up too. Thankfully, for me, your ex did a fantastic job of screwing things up by himself. And now you’re mine, forever. No takebacks.”

My mouth opens and closes. My brain is going at warp speed, yet there are no words to say. Because, holy shit, what started as a fluttery feeling in my belly has me shaking now. I didn’t think I could feel any more for this man, but he just proved me wrong. To know he felt like this from the sidelines, and I had no idea, does something to me. But he’s right, I was married and having kids, and then later when I got divorced and was “allowed” to like him, I thought he was way too young for me. He’s still younger than me, of course, but now the five-year age difference doesn’t matter as much anymore because we’re both in our thirties.

Without another word, I grab his hand and pull him after me until we’re upstairs in our bedroom. I lock the door behind him because we definitely don’t need to be interrupted by either our tween or our teen—I’ve had enough nightmares about this to last a lifetime.

I lead him to the couch that’s a few feet behind my dance pole and stare up at him. “Get naked and sit down. Right now.”

He licks his lips and grins. “Yes, ma’am.”

Once he’s sitting, I step back and swing around the pole a few times. Then I climb up until I have a good grip on it and hang upside down. I close my eyes and squeeze my breasts, knowing how much this little act turns both of us on. When I open my eyes and see his hard cock in his hand, I bite my lip. A shiver of desire runs through me as my core tightens and I get even wetter for him.

I slide down the pole, and once I land on the soft carpet, I crawl toward my husband, eager to please him as much as he always pleases me.

His eyes are full of lust when I move in the space between his legs and immediately lick up his hard length. We both groan at the contact, and he pulses against my tongue right before I take him into my mouth.

“You’re so fucking hot.” Hunter moves his hips, pushing his cock farther into my throat. “Ah yes, just like that.”

I take it, just as turned on as he is, moving up and down his hot length with my mouth and hand in tandem.

After a few minutes, Hunter’s hand brushes over my hair before trailing down my cheek. “Time to stop, baby.”

I give him one more long stroke and lick before giving his head a kiss. Hunter grabs the back of my head and smashes his lips against mine. The contact is almost carnal, and I love every second of it. Every stroke, every lick, every little groan and moan. I just love being with him.

When we pull apart, we’re both panting. Hunter takes my hand and pulls me over to the bed.

He lies down and gives me a scorching look. “I want you to sit on my face. Right now.”

I bite my lip and climb on the bed. Instead of going straight for his face, I slowly make my way up his body, stopping at his cock to give it some more attention.

“So, so naughty.” Hunter’s hands find their way into my hair as he surges up. A few moments later, he groans, “Fuck. Ride my face, baby. Now.”

The pull on my hair grows stronger, so I let go of him and make my way all the way up his body until his head is under me and right between my thighs. I hold on to the headboard, but before I can fully lower myself, he surges up. His tongue makes contact with my pussy, and I moan loudly.

My movements are slow at first, rhythmic back-and-forth drags until I grow feverish and my body takes over, rocking harder and faster. Hunter’s hands are on my ass cheeks, squeezing and applying the perfect amount of pressure to add to my lust-filled frenzy.

When I come on Hunter’s tongue and mouth, the pleasure is so strong that I almost suffocate him. But his strong hands hold me up before he helps me climb off him.

I lie down on the bed, completely spent. “Oh my God. I can’t move.”

He chuckles as he trails a slow path up my legs with his fingers, over my soft stomach, and up to my breasts. Squeezing one at a time before pinching my nipples.

His soft lips close over one of my hardened buds, sucking it into his warm mouth at the same time as his cock lines up at my pussy and he squeezes in inch by delicious inch.

“Yes.” With my head thrown back, my whole body bows for him.

He plays me so expertly, all I can do is feel the pleasure build once more in my body while I’m encapsulated by our moans and groans until I pull him down for a kiss. A kiss that swallows my screams as the second orgasm tries to pull me under tonight.

“Oh, fuck.” Hunter follows me into oblivion, his cock pulsing as he empties himself inside of me.

The sigh that escapes me feels almost too good, like there shouldn’t have been all this tension in my body in the first place. But I guess that’s how things generally go when you have three kids and a busy life.

Hunter rubs his nose against mine and I stare up at him. His brown eyes are filled with satisfaction but also love and his usual mischief. Just the way I know and love him.

I rub my hands over his back in lazy circles, enjoying this calm moment with him. The baby monitor comes to life, but a quick glance assures us Lily was only babbling in her sleep and that everything’s okay.

I scrunch my brows together. “Why does it feel so wrong to think about the birthday party for your two-year-old after you just had absolutely amazing sex?”

Hunter chuckles. “The question is why are you thinking about it right now?”

I study him. “What are you thinking about?”

He grins. “Absolutely nothing.”

I shake my head, and we both laugh. Typical Hunter.

“Seriously though.” He brushes his thumb from my eyebrow to my hairline in a soothing motion. “Stop worrying about the party. You and Harper planned everything down to the smallest detail. It’s going to be amazing and Lily will love it.”

I exhale a shaky breath.

His eyes bore into mine. “And stop worrying about your brother and Chloe. Everything will work out tomorrow.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so.”

Then his lips find mine, distracting my mind once more.

THE NEXT DAY is party day, meaning we’re celebrating our little girl Lily’s second birthday. Since we all love getting together, we turned it into a big production. Or rather Harper did, since she planned most of it. Over the years, she’s turned into the personal party planner for our friends and family, and she absolutely adores it. Even when she goes a little overboard sometimes. But we’ve all come to embrace that too.

For Lily’s party, we went with a “Tea for Two” party theme that turned out way cuter than I thought with lots of pink, gold, and lace throughout the house and the backyard. Harper outdid herself by finding tea kettle treat boxes, the cutest, colorful, mismatched tea cups and saucers I’ve ever seen, delicious tea party cookies, and even a teapot piñata.

And, of course, there’s a big bowl of pink Starburst too. Since everyone knows how big of a role the little candy has played in our relationship—including Hunter’s crazy proposal—it’s present at every party and gathering.

I put my arm around Harper’s shoulder and pull her against my side as we look out over the backyard. “Thanks again for helping with this. Everything looks so beautiful.”

Her arm slings around my waist and she squeezes. “You’re so welcome. You know I love this shit.”

I chuckle because we all know she does. “Are you still planning on starting a party planning business once Elias starts kindergarten next year?”

She purses her lips. “I think so. I’ve got to do something productive with my time or I’ll go crazy. Or drive one of you nuts.”

Before I can answer, a swarm of squealing kids comes our way, followed by our friends. Jace and Millie with Tanner, Wendy, and James. Harper and Ryan’s little ones, Izzy and Elias, join the group, followed by our kiddos, Mason, Alex, and Lily. The noise level rises by several decibels, but that’s something we’ve all gotten used to after years of get-togethers like this.

Harper leaves to chase her kids, and I look around until my gaze lands on Lily, who’s dragging Hunter to one of the small kids’ tables. She’s dressed in an adorable floral dress that I’m pretty sure is already dirty with something. After having two boys, it’s been a fun experience to dress a girl, but I quickly discovered they get just as dirty as the rest of them. Lily even more so because she has two older brothers.

Lily sits down, her dad trying his best to squeeze into the little chair opposite her but, somehow, he manages. Our little girl looks so much like him with her brown hair and her brown eyes. She’s absolutely everything I could have ever wished for and all of the boys absolutely adore her. And she knows it too, having them all wrapped around her little finger. The proof comes a second later when she pours Hunter some tea and spills more than half of it on the tablecloth and his lap. I bite my lip to keep from laughing because I’m pretty sure she talked him into doing it by herself.

A second later, the stomach flutters set in, as they so often do when I watch Hunter with Lily, or with my boys. Some days I still can’t believe this is my life now, that I got a second chance at love, at marriage, and at building the family I’ve always wanted.

Which reminds me of someone else, or several someones I’m desperately waiting for. Hunter’s head snaps up at that moment and he winks at me. Then he looks somewhere behind me, and a huge grin spreads across his face. He gets up and hauls Lily into his arm before he walks over to me, his fingers reaching for me before he’s within reach.

“They’re here.” He grabs my hand without stopping his stride, and barrels on.

I have to consciously keep up with him to not fall, but I don’t even care when I see who finally arrived.

“Uncle Noah,” Lily yells loudly, clapping her hands as she also spots the newcomers walking toward us.

But of course, Noah’s not alone. Chloe is right next to him, as is Oliver. My brother catches my gaze and he nods almost violently. The shininess in his eyes is visible from several feet away, and my eyes immediately start burning too. When I see that Chloe’s whole face is red and blotchy, the first tear escapes me.

Lily struggles in Hunter’s arm, something she does when she doesn’t want to be carried, so Hunter puts her on the ground. It only takes her a few seconds to reach the group and to throw her little arms around Oliver’s legs.

“Olli.”

Oliver’s downward cast lifts as he ruffles her hair. “Hey, Lily. Happy birthday.”

She squeezes his leg tighter. “Birthday party.”

Hunter walks up to the gangly teenager and squeezes the boy’s shoulder. “So happy you’re here.”

He gives Hunter a shy smile. “Thank you.”

The urge to pull Oliver into my arms is so overwhelming, my brain’s practically screaming at me. This poor boy lost his family in a tragic accident last year, and Noah and Chloe have been fostering him ever since. He’s immediately become a part of our family, and we all love him dearly. And now it’s official because today will forever be his gotcha day. He’s legally one of us, and I couldn’t be happier for him or my brother and sister-in-law.

Alex and Mason must have spotted Oliver too because they call him over, and Oliver takes off with Lily in tow, but not before sending a glance and a smile at Noah and Chloe.

Now, officially, his parents.

It takes me two seconds to stand in front of them and to wrap my arms around them both, just as a sob escapes Chloe. Their love story hasn’t been easy, and they’ve had to overcome so many hardships and obstacles to get to this point. I squeeze them hard.

Quiet tears stream down my face as we all hang on to each other. “I cannot tell you how happy I am for you guys.”

“Thank you.” Noah pulls back and kisses my forehead and accepts the bro-hug Hunter’s giving him.

Hunter’s eyes are shiny too, as are our other friends’ as they make their way over to us, all of us thrilled for them to have their wish granted of being parents to this wonderful boy.

Nothing can beat our big family, and they’re everything to me.

Hunter sidles up next to me, and we take a step back together to give the others room to congratulate them as well.

“I love you.” He pulls me against him and kisses the corner of my mouth. It’s featherlight, the barest of touches, but I feel it all the way in my toes, and in my soul

I meet his gaze and grin. “I love you more.”

He shakes his head. “Impossible.”

About the Author

Jasmin Miller is a professional lover of books and cake (preferably together) as well as a fangirl extraordinaire. She loves to read and write about anything romantic and never misses a chance to swoon over characters. Originally from Germany, she now lives in the western US with her husband and three little humans that keep her busy day and night.

If you’d like to know more about Jasmin and her books, please sign up for her newsletter on her website. She’d love to connect with you.

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THE SOUVENIR

J.D. HOLLYFIELD

I CAN’T BELIEVE I’m going through with this.

I’ve officially hit a new level of desperation. Actually, if there was a level below desperation, I’ve probably reached that too. If this doesn’t scream rash, extreme behavior, then I don’t know what does.

I stare up at the prestigious hotel as guests flow in and out. Businessmen. Fancily dressed women. Families, followed by their nannies and butlers. They walk by, not even glancing my way. Which means they don’t see the neon sign above my head that flashes ‘crazy person, stay clear.’

I look up to make sure I really don’t have a sign above my head because, at this point, nothing would surprise me. I bring my nervous gaze back to the entrance. I should go in. He’s probably inside waiting for me. But my legs refuse to move. This was a seriously stupid idea. Yes, it was. Now go home and continue crying into a bowl of ice cream like other normal, grieving people do.

I turn to jump back into the Uber, but he’s already pulling away. “Shit.”

“Excuse me, Miss. Do you need help with your luggage?”

I whip around to the bellman standing in front of me. “My, uh…” Bags? Yeah, I don’t have any. Because I’m not here to check into a hotel room. Nope. I’m here because I’ve completely lost my marbles. I signed up for some discreet sex website and propositioned a stranger to meet me so I can pretend he’s my dead fiancé and have sex with him in the service elevator. Like I said. Whole new level. “No, I’m okay. Not staying. Just meeting a friend for lunch.”

Food is the last thing on my mind. My stomach is in knots. Like tight Army knots that are never meant to release, and I may vomit or pass out before even stepping a foot inside the hotel. Why did I think this was going to solve all my problems? Jonathon just not dying in the first place would have been a better solution.

But he did.

And I can’t take it back. He’s not coming back.

The pit in my stomach grows. It’s been there for the past eleven months. Made itself at home, all cozy and shit. Probably has a TV, Wi-Fi, and snacks in there. Basically, three reasons to never leave.

I would have had to find acceptance and heal to hand Gus the Pit his eviction notice. The way my life’s going, that doesn’t seem to be happening any time soon. And yeah, I named it. He’s been there long enough, I figured we might as well be on a first-name basis.

But in grief, all I have is time. Time. Time. Time. It takes time, they say. My therapist says time heals. My friends say in due time. My parents, well, I’m pretty sure they’re way past consoling me and about ready to commit me. Death. It’s a doozy.

They don’t understand. They’ve never had the love of their life ripped from them. Jonathon was my everything. The reason I woke up. The last person I got to see when I went to bed. We were going to get married. Have a billion kids, a dog, and a house with that stupid clichéd white fence.

Instead, he was at the wrong place at the wrong time. A hijacking gone bad. Stubborn man refused to give up his wallet. He always believed that people should work for their money. Life was indeed not free, he’d say. But life is meaningless if you’re not actually living it. He was shot, and the burglar ended up with his wallet anyway, along with his car and my happily ever after.

I hated that he worked such late hours. Especially in the city, no less. The crime was getting worse, and even if his building was in the nicest part, it didn’t stop thugs and murderers from shooting people. It didn’t stop the gang member from shooting Jonathon.

My heart died that day with him. It’s been eleven months, and the pain has yet to subside. I can’t stop wishing I had one more day with him. One more moment. One more kiss. But that’s asking for the impossible. Hence why I’m standing in front of this fancy hotel—the place where Jonathan and I met—hiring a scandalous website to send a guy to say the right things, touch me in the right places, and make me feel as if, after all these endless night and prayers, I’ll get that final wish.

Except it’s going to be a complete stranger, not Jonathon, and again, complete— “Yep. Out of my damn mind.” I twist around to run like hell down the street and plow into a fortress. Or a human that’s built like one.

“Whoa there.” His monster hands wrap around my arm, saving me from plunging to the sidewalk. “In a hurry?” He has no idea.

“Wow, sorry. I…” My eyes raise to thank my savior, but the words lodge in my throat. Piercing blue eyes gaze down at me, stealing my breath. “I…” Have no idea what I was saying.

“You good to stand?” he asks, and I realize he’s still holding me.

“Shit. Shoot. Yeah. I’m good. Thanks. Yeah. I was just—” Done making an ass out of myself. “Just going inside. Thanks.” No! Wrong way! Run away! I smile and turn around, putting one foot in front of the other and walk into the hotel.

“Jesus,” I mutter under my breath. My heart may be dead, but my libido sure seems to be working. Pull it together, Hailey. I’m not here to drool over a sexy god, built like a house, with nice eyes who smelled lovely— “Shut up, Hailey.”

I shake my head and inhale a breath. Then I get back to the reason I’m here. “Shit!” How are sites like this even a thing? How did I even fathom looking for one? Wine, Hailey. Lots and lots of wine made you do it. Just when I thought wine would never betray me, it told me it was a good idea to get on the internet and Google men who roleplay. Why couldn’t it just convince me to go to a bar and find some random stranger to have sex with like a normal human? Why wine, why?

The logical answer is there is no logical answer. And that I’m pathetic. And desperate. Let’s not forget the magical word of the day. I brush my sweaty palms down my flowy summer dress and adjust my hair. “You can do this,” I coach myself. “If not, you’re out five hundred bucks.” The small detail that I paid for sex gets shoved under the rug because we’re never mentioning this to a single soul. So it’s almost like it never happened. What money? Exactly.

I dig into my small clutch and grab the folded piece of paper. The dirty details. I need to take the service elevator to the seventh floor. When the doors open, my guest will be waiting. He will enter the elevator and say the secret word so I know it’s him and don’t jump a perfectly harmless bystander. He will talk sweet to me, and we’ll have spontaneous elevator sex. Just like the first time I met Jonathon.

I know. What a hussy. But we were young. He was too attractive for his own good and, well, YOLO. It was the start of a wonderful relationship. Life. Then it was gone…

I close my eyes as my thumb rubs along the bare finger where my engagement ring used to be. The memory weighs on me, and I’m not sure anything I do will be as special as that day. But I just need to feel something. Anything. It’s a messed-up way to get closure, but if it works, this site is getting a great rating from me. That and I also need to fire my therapist. Or give her a raise. Having to deal with me after this disaster will earn her one. “Screw it.” Before I can back out, I hit the button on the elevator.

The doors open, and I step in, turning as the doors close. “This is crazy.” Yep. Like this is Cuckoo town, and I’m the mayor. “You need this,” I argue with myself. “You deserve this.” That and a seventy-two-hour psych hold. Get in and get out. Pretend it’s Jonathon. Say all the things you’ve been wanting to say since he died, then go home and move on with life. Easy peasy. Cuckoo! Cuckoo!

Deep breaths. My nerves are going berserk. Great, I’m sweating. What if I smell? I lower my nose to my shoulder and discreetly smell my armpit just as the door opens on floor seven.

I wish I could say I pulled it together before my hired dead fiancé impersonator saw me. But I don’t. I have my nose in my armpit. But that’s not my biggest problem. That’s like way down on my list of problems. Because the guy standing outside the elevator doors is the hot, built like a house, has dreamy eyes and smells good guy from outside.

Get the fuck outta town with this.

“It’s you.”

“You.”

We’re frozen in a stare-off. He seems just as surprised as me. Maybe it’s not him, and this is just a coincidence. “Crocodile?” Shit. Nope. It’s him. The secret word has been thrown down. Just like we’re about to—shit!

My expectations were set low. Like my dignity. I wasn’t expecting anyone special. Just someone who had shaved, showered, didn’t smell bad, and wasn’t old enough to be my father. Or shit, young enough to be my son. Why am I so weird? The point is that I certainly did not expect him.

He walks in, taking up half the space. Or just a third, it is a service elevator, so they tend to be—shut up. “So, hi. This is awkward,” I start as he turns and presses the close button. Then, as instructed, he hits the emergency stop button. Oh god. The elevator jerks and stops, as does my breathing. He turns, electric blue eyes stopping me in my tracks, and slowly eliminates the space between us. “I—uh, this is probably weird for you. I don’t normally—”

His hand reaches out, capturing my waist and tugging me into him, and his lips crush over mine. Okay then! Right to it. But then again, that’s how it went. The only thing different was that back then, I was drunk off too many mimosas, riding the liquid courage wave.

“Relax,” he hums against my mouth, and I realize I’m stiff as a board in his arms. Easy for him to say. I attempt to relax just as his tongue slides into my mouth. My knees buckle, and I almost slip out of his hold. His grip tightens, and a small squeal leaves my throat when he lifts me up. “Wrap your legs around me.” I was raised to have stellar manners, so I do as I’m told. He doesn’t make it easy since he’s like a huge tree trunk of a man, but I manage. He kisses me slowly, his tongue exploring my mouth. It’s strange because it’s been so long since I’ve kissed someone besides my parents, and even then, I wasn’t French kissing it up. Ew gross. Why am I thinking about my parents right now?

Focus, Hailey. Hot hunk. Kissing. Right… His lips are plump against mine. He tastes like mint and sin, and I’m enjoying this. I play catch up and kiss him back, our tongues dancing perfectly together. His hands grab my ass cheeks to squeeze, and a strange sound falls off my tongue. A moan? I just moaned. Hell yeah, I did. My arms lock around his neck as he presses me against the wall. It also causes his monster hard-on to brush up against my lower belly. He slides a hand up my thigh, creating goosebumps in its wake. His mouth breaks from mine, and his wet lips press soft kisses down my neck. I rest my head against the wall as he does his thing, slowly torturing me with each seductive kiss.

“You have nice lips,” I moan when he gets to my collar bone.

“You have amazing skin. Like kissing silk.”

Okay, that compliment alone was worth the money.

His hand works its way up my side until he’s sliding the spaghetti strap of my dress off. I watch as it falls, exposing one of my laced-covered breasts. He brings his lips down and suckles one in his mouth. “Shit,” I hiss or moan. That feels really good.

“If we weren’t tight for time, I’d make you take this off so I could enjoy them fully. Squeeze and pinch them until they’re swollen. I’d even consider sliding my cock between them and fucking them.”

Frankly, my schedule just opened up, and I have all the time in the world. His teeth drag over my nipple, and he gently bites down. My hands slither through his thick dark hair as he sucks the tender flesh of my breast. To be honest, I don’t care if we even have sex. As long as he keeps doing more of—“Oh god.” Another soft moan floats off my lips when I feel a hand between my thighs. He pulls back the thin material of my thong, grazing my cunt.

“You’re soaked, fuck. I want to put my mouth here.” He spreads me open and, torturously slow, slides a finger inside me. “I bet you taste like perfection.” He pulls out and works his finger back in. “Sweet.” Same song and dance, but this time, he grants me another finger. “I’d be so gentle at first, sliding my tongue along your wet pussy. Fucking you with my tongue. Just thinking about you coming in my mouth makes me fucking hard as hell.”

Well, if it makes a difference, I’m way passed hard. Or, well, in female terms…wet, turned on. Definitely taking back the whole not caring about having sex thing. My body trembles with every thrust. I’ve been so deprived of a man’s touch that my walls start to clench too soon. “Fuck,” I moan, working my hips, needing more of what he’s offering. He gets what I’m asking for and works me harder, deeper. He pulls out, thrusting three digits inside me, and my walls collapse around him as my orgasm detonates.

I’m still spasming as he pulls away. His hand is in my face, sliding a finger into my mouth. “Taste yourself. Know how fucking sweet you are.” Shamelessly I suck on his fingers, which only intensifies how turned on I am. I want to lick them clean. He works his finger as if it was his cock, and there’s nothing more I want to do than to suck him off. Feel him in my mouth. “Put me down. It’s my turn,” I say, desperate to do just that.

His sexy mouth curls into a devilish grin. “No time.”

Like a skilled elevator sex for hire, he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a condom. While still holding me perfectly in place, he undoes his pants and slides his jeans and boxers down to his thighs. He rips the condom with his teeth, which is super sexy, and slides it onto his—“Holy bejesus.” Where is that thing gonna go?

He lets out a low chuckle. Condom in place, he pulls back, his steely gaze grabbing mine. “You ready for me to fuck you raw?” he says. My cheeks must blast an ugly shade of how drunk was I when I filled out that suggestion form?

Thank God he doesn’t bother waiting for an answer. A small gasp echoes in the space when he tears my thong right off and tosses it to the ground. Wasting no time, he spreads my legs wide and powers inside me. You’d think it was the Fourth of July with all the stars blasting in front of my eyes at the euphoric sensation of him thrusting inside me. The issue of fitting is not actually an issue, and he slides out only to slam back in.

How did I go so long without this? Don’t answer that. Think of the now. Hot. Built like a—“Oh god, yes.” An unattractive moan spews from my mouth when his finger presses against my clit. Shit… shit… shit… This feels too good. His hands clench around my ass, and my heels dig into his back as I meet him thrust for thrust.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he hisses. Thrust. “Your pretty little cunt wrapped around me.” Thrust. “So fucking wet. You’re coating my cock.”

It’s about to be a waterworks show if he keeps up this dirty talking. Clearly, wine-drunk me spelled sweet wrong. Sweet. Dirty. Kind of the same. I’m losing my mind. My hands grip his hair, and I hold on for dear life as he works his cock in and out. His lips find mine, and he kisses me as if he’s been starved. My pussy clamps around him, and I don’t want this to end. But I can’t fight the inevitable, and the most intense orgasm tears through me. He swallows every moan, kissing me like it’s his destiny.

His control finally slips, and he powers into me like a madman, so deep it triggers another orgasm. When I feel him expand, I know he’s lost the same battle. With a deep growl, he explodes.

I can feel his heart hammering in his chest as it presses into mine. I don’t think I’ll ever catch my breath. He pulls back, and his eyes meet mine. His gaze cuts into me. We’re both thinking the same thing. What the hell was that? That wasn’t just mystery sex. That was…

Banging on the door breaks the connection. Without a word, he pulls out and sets me down. He discards the condom and tucks himself back into his pants. Me, on the other hand, am in a daze. My legs barely hold me up. I look down at the pair of panties on the ground, which will have to stay there because if I bend down to get them, I’ll topple over. Thankfully, he crouches down to pick them up. But instead of handing them to me, he puts them in his pocket.

“Souvenir,” he says and winks. Just as I open my mouth to say something, the doors open, and two hotel staff are on the other side.

“Our deepest apologies. Are you two okay?”

Not really.

“We’re just fine. You should really have your staff investigate this faulty elevator.” He doesn’t look back. Not even a simple ‘see ya around’ or ‘great times.’ Maybe a ‘nice ride, dirty little minx.’ He simply steps around the gentleman, tosses the evidence into the garbage and disappears down the hall.

“Miss, can we escort you to your room?” He extends the hand holding a card. “Or offer a complimentary drink at the bar?”

No, you can explain to me what the hell just happened in here? Well, I know what happened. Hot sex was had. Hot, steaming explosive, panty-tearing, dirty-talking—okay, I get the point. What I mean is what or who was that? Not only did I get my money’s worth, I feel like I owe them money. Their match pairing? Five stars. I mean, I may have completely forgotten the reason I did this in the first place. Jonathon was the farthest thing from my mind.

Jonathon.

This was supposed to be about him. Us. Me letting go. Not once did I think of him or imagine it was his hands on me. Inside me. Kissing me. The guilt settles in my gut, takes a seat next to Gus, and my post-sex high disappears. I just had sex with a complete stranger in a hotel service elevator who, may I add, stole my panties for nothing.

I snatch the card out of his hand. “Give me that. You know what?” I snatch the one the woman is holding too. “What kind of hotel are you running here? You better hope I don’t write this experience in my Yelp review.” I storm off toward the bar with my two free drink tickets because I’m sexually satisfied, mentally unstable, emotionally ruined, and now broke.

If you enjoyed this, you’ll love Chicks, Man!

About the Author

USA Today Best-selling author, J.D. Hollyfield is a creative designer by day and superhero by night. When she’s not cooking, event planning, or spending time with her family, she’s relaxing with her nose stuck in a book. With her love for romance, and her head full of book boyfriends, she was inspired to test her creative abilities and bring her own stories to life. Living in the Midwest, she’s currently at work on blowing the minds of readers, with the additions of her new books and series, along with her charm, humor and HEA’s.

J.D. Hollyfield dabbles in all genres, from romantic comedy, contemporary romance, historical romance, paranormal romance, fantasy and erotica! Want to know more! Follow her on all platforms!

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THE DARKEST NIGHT

A BEACON GROVE SHORT STORY

JEN STEVENS

CHAPTER ONE

A LOUD GASP startles me awake, jerking me out of a deep slumber. In a sleep-filled daze, I realize a little too late that it was my own and push the covers off my legs to rush toward the open balcony doors. Into fresh ocean air. I want to avoid waking Remy up, though I have no doubt he’ll notice my absence within minutes. I always need these few beats of silence to recalibrate.

The same dream pulls me from my sleep each night.

I suppose it’s less of a dream and more of a memory.

Rough hands are wrapping restraints around my wrists and ankles, pinning me to a wooden cross as a crowd fights their way toward me with knives lifted into the air, ready to carve into my skin. The faces before me aren’t random or blank as they would be in regular dreams. No, they’re the faces of the people I’d grown to know and love in the town that I thought was my home. My regular barista, the waitress at my favorite diner, the thorny librarian I’d grown to love. They’re coming at me with pure venom in their expressions, as if I’m their one true enemy.

The flames are licking at my toes, blistering them more with each pass. And despite the physical assault and betrayal I’m experiencing, it’s the sound of his voice echoing through my thoughts that terrifies me the most. The wicked laugh he releases as I thrash around to avoid one person’s hand, only to send my skin right into the blade of another. The way he guides his followers into violence with an eerily calm voice.

Until I manage to center myself enough to focus inward, on my gifts—the ancient powers that sat dormant in my body until I was reunited with my mate.

Until I’m able to use those gifts to pull water from everywhere—the soil beneath me, the gas-soaked wood before me, the ocean beside me, miles away.

And only then does his satanic laughter end. Only then do the blades leave my skin and the restraints loosen on my limbs.

Because that water? It obeys me.

It bends and gushes and rises and falls for me.

So, when I called for it, it came. And it destroyed everything it’s path to get to me. It released me and healed me enough to escape my attackers. It doused their flames and stole away their weapons.

And when everything was over and I had escaped, it receded back to where it came from, leaving its victims—my attackers—confused and bewildered.

Remy often asks me what happened that night. He felt every ounce of pain I’d experienced and tried like hell to get to me before they ended my life. But I couldn’t explain it.

I somehow dug deep inside of myself to a place I had no idea existed and conjured up powers that reached beyond what I thought was possible, and that terrified me.

By the time he got to me, it was over. The crowd had cleared, he had left, and I was injured worse than I realized.

I tried giving the names of those I remembered seeing to the police, but they shook me off, claiming that I was too distraught to remember clearly. The people I named each had strong alibis and I was forced to live my life surrounded by those who were willing to watch me die before their eyes.

But they were wrong. I remember everything.

And I have no plans to forgive.

“Another one?” Remy whispered in a soft voice.

He waited for me to face him before he approached me, all too familiar with what would happen if he had startled me out of one of my trances.

I want to brush him off and send him back to bed, insisting it was not a big deal. I wanted to work through this burden alone without weighing him down.

But our bond was stronger than that. Even if I had tried to turn him away, he’d sense my true feelings and call me out on it. There have even been times that I’ve accidentally projected the dream into his subconscious, allowing him a startling glimpse at the thoughts that haunted me. That hadn’t gone over well, either.

I blew out a frustrated breath. “When am I going to get over it?”

He stood beside me and leaned his forearms on the balcony, staring out at the vast ocean. The sun was hardly peeking over the horizon, splashing the sky with a peachy tint as it woke up.

“I know you don’t want me to patronize you by reminding you that you’ve quite literally been through hell and back. And I know you don’t want me to tell you to just get over it, either. I think you need to find what it is about that night that’s bothering you so much and work through it.”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. What was bothering me about that night?

Everything.

“One thing you can’t do is allow them to steal away any more joy. You won, Storie. They tried to take you down and you rose up against them and proved that you can’t be stamped out. If you don’t hear anything else I say, I want you to hear this: You’re stronger than any of the things that are bringing you down right now. You can get through this.”

He reached out and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side, so he could kiss the top of my head.

“I don’t want to disappoint you,” I mumbled into his chest.

My head shook with the rumble of his soft chuckle. “You could never disappoint me.”

That didn’t seem true. I felt like I disappointed him each day I spent cooped up in our home, refusing to see anyone but him unless absolutely necessary. But I kept those thoughts to myself as we turned back toward our room and laid back onto the bed. Remy tucked me into his side, and it wasn’t long before his soft snores filled the room. I watched the day break in silence, refusing to fall back asleep and go back to that place.

CHAPTER TWO

WINTER SOLSTICE IS TOMORROW.

Remy has planned for the rest of the Quarters to come over and celebrate with us. Up until now, I’ve managed to avoid being around them using every excuse I could possibly think of. Though, if I complain about another headache, I’m positive Remy will insist that I get checked.

It just feels impossible to be around them when I know the answer to the question they’ve been obsessing over for months now. Even when Remy brings up the fifth Quarter, I quickly feign disinterest and change the subject.

He has no idea that she’s already admitted it to me—that I’ve been sworn to secrecy about it until the time was right. It was an impossible position to be in, stuck between my Quarter and my best friend, and I had a hard time balancing it.

So instead, I avoided it altogether.

“It’ll be fun,” he insisted when he sensed my hesitation.

I threw out a lame excuse about the house not being ready for a holiday. I’m still getting used to living in our home, and entertaining guests wasn’t something my father or aunt did growing up. I have no idea where to begin with preparing for a holiday like this or how to do it any justice.

“They practically grew up here, Storie. They won’t care one way or another.”

I looked down at my wringing hands and he pushed off the counter he was leaning against to stand before me, wrapping his own hands around mine.

“If you really don’t want to, we’ll cancel. We can stay in and just hang out together.”

That wasn’t what I wanted, either. I can tell he’s growing tired of being isolated from his brothers so much on my account, especially when they’re vulnerable without their Counters.

“It’s fine,” I mumbled into my chest, lifting my eyes to watch him through my lashes. I was ashamed of my behavior.

Since that night, when I’d been pushed to the brink of death and forced to summon powers I hardly believed existed in this realm, nothing looked the same to me. My body felt foreign and my mind was a constant storm of self-doubt.

Watchtower coven had accepted me as one of their Counters, allowing me to join without going through the grueling initiation process I’ve heard horror stories about. At first, it was nice to feel that sense of community. The Quarters ran one unofficial covenstead and I could tell that things were starting to look up for the coven and town.

Except, any time I looked too deeply into one of the faces of the people before me, I was taken back to that night at the bonfire. To watching their excited expressions as I was nearly killed right before their eyes.

It grew to be too much, and that feeling of community quickly morphed into something toxic and terrifying. So, I pulled back from everything. I hadn’t even gone back to see my grandmother, Lunet—too afraid she’d have more cryptic mesages for me. Isolation was made much easier for me given Mayor Douglas put a temporary ban on all public celebrations until they figured out how to deal with the Movement.

The Grangers were the only people I felt that I could fully trust outside of Remy, and they had gone through their own transition as Blaire struggled to accept her fate. Like me, she pulled away from everyone, too. We both distanced ourselves from each other.

Which only left Remy. Up until now, that was fine with me.

“I can have my mom help us prepare if you’d like…” he began hesitantly, trailing off when I lifted my gaze back up toward his onyx eyes and gave him a look that said that was the exact opposite of what I wanted.

I hated that he allowed them to stay in the house.

After they were exposed, the other Quarters sent their parents away from their homes, either into the old outhouses on their properties or, in Rhyse’s case, in the dungeons beneath his estate. Remy was the only one who let his parents stay in the main suite of the house.

For the most part, they stayed in their own living quarters and out of our way. But I could tell that the staff respected them as the heads of the house more than me or Remy, and after everything that happened, that didn’t sit well with me.

Remy had been lied to his entire life about being a Quarter. His mother claims she had no idea that his father was secretly keeping his Counter right under her nose as the head housekeeper, but I found that hard to believe. She was either extremely ignorant, or she chose to ignore the things that made her uncomfortable. Neither of those options were respectable.

While it was officially my new home, the Winters estate was a bleak, lifeless place. I’ve lived here for nearly two months, yet each day I wake up in Remy’s bed, the coldness of his home still shocks me.

Nothing is the same as it was when I first arrived in Beacon Grove. Nothing was even the same since the first night I moved in.

He reminds me daily that it’s not just his, but I don’t feel it—that undeniable sense of home. I used to, back when I first took the one-lane road into my family’s hometown just five short months ago. But since the Movement’s bonfire, I don’t feel comfortable anywhere in Beacon Grove.

The common rooms are still decorated in his mother’s tastes. Cool, neutral tones are splashed all around the spotless home, a stark contrast to the warm chaos that I’d always grown up around with from my father and aunt.

Remy urges me to redecorate. Each time he finds me standing in a room, lost in thought, he tells me to make it my own.

I just can’t bring myself to care.

If I think too deeply about what my life looked like a year ago, I get overwhelmed. It’s like peeking into the door of someone else’s reality. In the blink of an eye, I’ve found the love of my life—and not just love, but my mate—nearly died twice, uncovered family secrets that never would have come to light, and inherited a host of powers I thought were only found in fantasy tales.

So, who gives a damn if the house feels warm and cozy when everything else has gone to shit?

The only thing I need is Remy, and that’s not even a personal choice. The gods graced me with codependency.

But I can see the smugness in his mother’s face each time she makes her way into the main living area and it remains untouched. I can sense the entitlement whenever she has lunch with Remy and the staff obeys her orders over my own. I think in another life, we could have gotten along. There’s just too much history and resentment that was planted into the foundation of our relationship before we had a chance to truly meet, and I can’t forgive either of them for their role in the fateful events that unfolded.

“Fine, then we’ll do it together.”

I don’t miss the worried gleam in his eyes as I turn to walk away, done with the conversation.

CHAPTER THREE

OUR HOME HAD BEEN TRANSFORMED into a winter wonderland in the following days. As it turns out, the celebration of Yule and the winter solstice wasn’t far off from a regular Christmas celebration growing up. For the first time since I’d moved in, the house staff was eager to help once they caught on to what we were planning.

A pine tree was cut down from the north side of the property and brought into the great room for us to decorate.

One of the cleaners taught me how to make a wreath out of evergreen to hang on the front door.

“I’ve missed those boys,” she admitted excitedly as she picked around the prickly branches to perfect her creation.

Guilt sunk to the pit of my stomach. A small voice convinced me that if it weren’t for me, they would have been around much more. Maybe that was why the staff hated me.

I left her alone to finish and hang the wreath and found Remy across the house, digging through a box of ornaments for the tree. I was too afraid that he’d sense my negative thoughts, so I quietly sat beside him and listened as he recited anecdotal stories for each small decoration.

“All mine are in storage,” I explained with a sad smile once we transferred everything from the box to the tree. He had put on some soft holiday music to play in the background as he circled the tree. The ornaments glistened brightly against the white lights that were strung along the branches.

It reminded me of Aunt Ash’s Christmas tree. We fought every year about using white lights instead of colored ones. She claimed the white purified the space, and I thought the colors would be prettier. Of course, she always won. Turns out, that was just another piece of her childhood that I missed.

The memory snuck up on me and my mood lifted a tad. As if she were nudging me out of the dark place my thoughts had been in all night.

“We’ll have to get them out so we can add them to the tree next year.”

I nodded and my smile broadened at the thought of adding my own things to my new home.

“We should get everything from storage anyway. There’s no use in paying for it when we’ve got all this space. We can unpack it together if it’s too hard for you. Or just keep it all boxed up. It’s up to you…” he rambled nervously.

My hand found his arm and caressed it softly. “I’d love that.”

“I want you to feel comfortable here.”

“I know.”

He closed the distance between us, reaching his hand out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear.

“This… situation we’re in isn’t normal. I know that. But it isn’t temporary, either. You’re here for good, Storie. As long as you want to be.”

His fingers drifted along my jaw to cup my chin, gently pushing it up so I was forced to meet his earnest gaze.

“You’ll never be uprooted again. You don’t have to run from him anymore.”

I nodded into his palm. “I know.”

“Tell me what I can do to make this easier for you. How can I make you happy?” The words came out in a painful whisper. He usually restrained these desperate thoughts around me.

My eyes fell back to the floor, as the answer popped into my head.

Nothing. There’s nothing he can do.

But he used his hand to force my chin back up again. “Don’t do that. Come back to me.”

“I’m here.”

“No you aren’t. Your mind has been somewhere else for weeks. I don’t know how to help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

I shoved his hand away and took a step back. “I don’t know what’s wrong. I’m trying to figure it out, too. But I can’t do anything with you breathing down my neck. Or with your parents wandering around the house as they please. Or with a staff of people waiting on me who would rather slit my throat.”

My tone was harsher than I’d intended for it to be, but I didn’t cower or apologize like I would have done before.

He shook his head, brows pinched together in disbelief. “You want my parents out? Done. You want me to fire the staff and find someone new? Done. If that’s all I have to do to make you happy, consider it done.”

A loud, frustrated growl erupted from my throat. From the corner of my eye, I saw one of the maids who was carrying a box from storage quickly turn on her heel and head back in the direction she came from.

I didn’t want to uproot anyone’s lives just to make me happy. But I couldn’t stand how suffocating they all were, either. I was conflicted and tired and frustrated with the fact that he was so eager to cut everyone off just for me.

“I want things to go back to normal. But none of this is normal for me.”

He lifted his arms as if he wanted to reach back out toward me, but stopped mid air. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to make things easier on you and I seem to be doing the opposite.”

I shook my head. “No, you’re not.”

It was all catching up to me—the loss of my family, the secrets I exposed when I got to Beacon Grove, the trauma I’d endured. I tried to outrun it, but it was too fast.

“We can cancel tomorrow.”

“No. I want them to come over. I want to celebrate the holiday with you.”

“Are you sure?”

With a forced smile, I placed my hands on his shoulders and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Of course.”

Though it may not have been entirely true, it seemed to placate him enough. He tugged me into his arms and his lips crashed against mine, siphoning all the emotions we were just battling into it. He leaned down to wrap his hands behind my knees and pull me up into his arms, then blindly carried us to the stairs and up into our room.

CHAPTER FOUR

BOXES AND BOXES of candles were brought out of storage and placed all around. Each one was lit with a prayer, and I was told they were meant to encourage the light and warmth of the sun on the darkest night of the year.

I found that to be fitting.

Maybe I was experiencing my own winter solstice. Maybe if I could just get through this seemingly unending tough time, dawn will break and the sun will shine once again.

Remy lit the Yule log in the fireplace with the house staff behind him reciting their prayers before disappearing somewhere in the house to prepare our dinner or do our laundry or something else that I found to be completely unnecessary. It wasn’t long before the other four Quarters were making their way through our front door. They invited themselves in as if they owned the place, and I envied the sense of familiarity and camaraderie they felt for one another.

Luckily, his parents stayed out of sight. I had a feeling he said something to them about not coming around us, but I was too embarrassed about my outburst to ask.

Conversation came easily between the four men. There were a few times I caught myself so enthralled in watching them interact freely without the heavy burdens they carried in the outside world, I realized I hadn’t spoken in a few minutes. Remy usually picked up on it soon after and brought me back into the conversation, his eyes holding a hopeful sparkle.

He wanted me to accept them. His parents, his staff, the town—none of those people mattered as much to him as the three men that sat in our living room. They were the only ones he cared about keeping around.

These were the ones he didn’t want me to ask him to give up.

With that thought in mind, I shoved down all the negativity I’ve been feeling and focused on enjoying the night with them. I didn’t allow my thoughts to stray far from tonight. And at some point, I began to feel the similarities between my new life and the one that was stolen from me. Small, familiar pieces of my childhood had been scattered around the house that I hadn’t ever noticed before. Little habits that my aunt and father adopted from their childhood here in Beacon Grove.

Colorful crystals littered the shelves along the main walls. Lavender hung in the showers. Cinnamon sticks sat in each window.

They’ve been here with me all along. I was just too dense to notice it.

“Cheers,” Rhyse yelled after a few too many drinks. “This year is the year. We’re going to get him.” Him. He meant Rayner.

“And we’re going to find our Counters, too,” Enzo slurred, lifting his drink in the air.

“Amen to that,” Rhyse agreed, taking a large gulp from his cup. “I’m sick of those little assholes hiding away from us.” His eyes lifted from his cup to meet mine across the room. “No offense.”

I shrugged and Remy pulled me into his side proudly. I felt Lux’s stare on me and shifted my gaze to meet his. He wasn’t as rambunctious as the rest of them, always too busy analyzing his surroundings to really let loose. As if he were haunted with truths that no one else knew.

He was protective of his brothers, that much I knew. But of the three of them, he was the one Remy related to best. The one I needed to impress the most.

I raised a brow at him in a silent question. We hardly knew each other, but the way he was watching me with that far away look sent shivers down my spine. What was he seeing?

As if my face had shaken him out of his trance, he gave his head a stiff shake and tucked his chin into his chest, stubbornly refusing to share. When he looked back up at Rhyse and Enzo trying to arm wrestle on the coffee table, his features had completely neutralized, erasing any indication of our stare off.

I sunk my teeth into my bottom lip and made an unsettled attempt to do the same. Remy grabbed my hand into his, and I made a mental note to ask him what Lux’s gifts entailed before pushing the experience from my thoughts altogether.

“THANK you for putting up with them tonight,” Remy whispered into my ear. His arm was draped across my ribs, fingers toying with the hem of my shirt. Everyone had just left, and we were lying in bed. The balcony doors were wide open, but the sky was too black to provide any light.

“I wasn’t putting up with them,” I argued. I propped my head onto my hand. “I like them.”

And I did. I realized early on in the night that avoiding them to keep Blaire’s secret was a silly mistake and they deserved better. Especially from me—one of their own. I just hoped they felt the same way about me when they figured out that I’ve been holding out on them.

He leaned forward, placing soft kisses into the crook of my neck. It wasn’t long before innocent kisses turned into hungry nips, his teeth digging into my skin tantalizingly.

I leaned away long enough to turn in my spot and face him, my hands quickly finding the bottom of his shirt to scrape my nails up his back. This was one of the only times I felt like I was home—in his arms.

Our clothes were quickly stripped away, disappearing somewhere in the dark. When there weren’t any barriers between us, he allowed his hands to roam up and down my body. I wanted to push them away and rush into it, but Remy liked to take his time. This was his favorite part: the pain and pleasure we experienced from simply feeling the other’s skin against our own. The buzzing I always felt around him had fizzled into a low hum that I’d learned to tune out but Remy admitted that he enjoyed the reminder that we were more than lovers. We were mates, chosen for each other by the gods themselves.

When we were like this, it was like our bodies were crying out for that connection. For more. And we always gave in.

I allowed him a few more seconds of exploring before swinging my leg and straddling his hips, grinding myself against his erection with a soft moan. His fingers moved up my thighs, drawing circles around my hips before closing in on the bundle of nerves that was pulsing in anticipation for him.

My back arched in response, pushing his erection further against my center as his thumb worked against me. I cried out my release moments later, never capable of holding off for too long with him. Once I was finished and my heart had slowed back down, I reached between my legs and grabbed his length into my hands, stroking a few times before lining him up with my slick center.

He let out a hiss and leaned his head back into the pillow, allowing me to control the speed. I started off slow, barely lowering myself onto him. I wanted him to be teased just as torturously as he had done to me. But I didn’t get a chance to continue with it long before he grabbed my hips and pushed me down, shoving himself into me as deep as possible.

We both groaned, pausing for a moment to give me a chance to adjust to his size before I lifted off and picked up speed. His hands remained on my hips, guiding me.

We each found our release, riding into euphoria together. I fell onto his chest and rested my head against his heart, listening to its beat as the excitement died down.

“I love you, Remy.”

He wrapped his arms around my back and squeezed. “I love you, too.”

“I can deal with everything else, so long as I have you,” I mumbled against his skin.

I didn’t want to be another problem in his life to have to solve. I didn’t want to force him to choose between me and his family. To fire the people who have been loyal employees to his family for years, so much so that they consider each other family.

Whatever the future held for us, I was prepared to deal with it by his side.

About the Author

Jen Stevens was born and raised in Michigan, where she enjoys the weather of all four seasons in a single day. After obtaining her Bachelor’s degree, she quickly realized the corporate world wasn’t for her, and instead took on the daunting role as her children’s snack maid. Reading has been an obsession for as long as she can remember, while writing has always been an escape. Jen could quote The Office word-for-word and proudly refers to herself as a romance junkie. She could live off anything made of sugar and has recently obtained the title of Lady. Most of all, she loves connecting with readers!

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The Darkest Night is a short story in the Beacon Grove series. You can read the rest of the books here.

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A REAL MAN SHORT

JENIKA SNOW

CHAPTER ONE

PENNY

GOING out to the bar certainly wasn’t what I planned, but after getting screamed at by my boss—in front of everyone, mind you—getting a lower than expected grade on one of my university master’s classes, and coming home to my dog having used my couch as his personal chew toy, I just wanted to say fuck it all and toss back some drinks.

Which, to be honest, was probably the worst idea. Drowning your sorrows in booze only led to more problems, but a girl could only get so much shit thrown at her in one day before she snapped.

I pushed open the door to Pigglies, the local bar and grille in our small town. Really, it was the only place to get a decent drink, but it was a good exchange, seeing as we had mountains on two sides of us, a massive lake that hosted a yearly water ski tournament, and of course we had the hottest lumberjacks around.

The hostess led me to one of the small bistro tables, handed me a one-sided menu, then left. I glanced around, seeing a few locals, some suit-wearing out-of-towners—who were obvious by how out of place they looked amongst all the flannel-dressed, wood-chopping men.

After placing my drink order, I glanced around before turning my attention to my phone. I never went out by myself, so I felt a little uncomfortable as I tried to busy myself with checking email and social media on my cell.

When I saw a shadow pass across my table, I set my phone aside and glanced up, a smile on my face for the server and my first—of many—alcoholic drinks of the night.

But that smile slowly faded as I stared into the too blue eyes of Ryan Black, one of our town’s local lumberjacks.

His grin was already in place, his straight white teeth flashing, his smile infectious as I felt mine grow. Everyone knew Ryan because he was probably the most friendly and extroverted person in town. I knew him because we’d gone to school together. All twelve years of elementary and high school.

“Hey, Penny.” Ryan’s voice was deep and husky, and God, why did he always have to look so good?

So rugged and manly and just a hot piece of ass.

“Hi, Ryan.” The server came by and set my drink in front of me, glanced at Ryan, and gave him a saucy little smile that annoyed me, but when I glanced at Ryan, I could see his focus was solely on me.

“Mind if I have a seat?”

I nodded and felt this flutter fill my belly.

Ryan was a big man, strong with arms like tree trunks, a scruff-covered jaw, and dark hair that was a little on the longer side because it hung over his forehead.

“Anything to drink, Ryan?” the server asked, and I didn’t miss how she popped out her chest, no doubt trying to get his attention.

“Just a beer. Thanks,” he said with zero emotion in his voice.

And still he stared at me.

“How’ve you been?” he asked and leaned forward, ignoring the server until she finally took the hint and left.

“I’m fine.” I didn’t bother saying I was stressed as hell because right now, with all his attention trained on me, it was hard to find anything to bitch about.

“Good. That’s real good, darlin’.”

Oh good lord. His praise made all my girlie parts tingle in the most sexually humiliating ways.

The server set his beer on the table. He thanked her again without a glance, and for the next twenty minutes, we just talked about anything and everything.

And it was the most easygoing, comfortable conversation I’d had in a very long time.

“How about we get out of here?” he asked once the silence descended on the table.

He braced his elbows on the table, his flannel button-down shirt rolled up his muscular forearms.

For a second, I was transfixed by his arms, at how he was tanned and hard and how the veins roped underneath. I felt a flush steal over me, a spark settling right between my legs.

“Get out of here?” Was that my voice, all breathy and… expectant?

He shrugged and grinned broader. “Yeah, why not? We can check out the crew setting up the lights for the water show this weekend. I like watching them fumble around with them.”

I laughed softly, and when his expression changed to something more serious, my cheeks felt hot, and I sobered.

“Hey, don’t stop,” he said low and deep. “You’ve got the prettiest laugh I’ve ever heard.”

I snapped my head up and instantly felt embarrassed because it seemed way too eager or maybe shocked. Was Ryan… coming on to me? He’d never been known as a flirt, never ran around town with women on his arm. He was known as a hard worker and one of the leads at the lumberjack company, and because of that, his life pretty much revolved around wood.

Oh God… there went my mind. Right in the gutter.

“Okay,” I said, and when he smiled at me and looked downright happy about my answer, I laughed softly and felt like a damn schoolgirl who’d just gotten attention from the popular boy at school.

Girl, you need to get out more.

And I guess that’s what I was doing now.

AFTER CHECKING out the lights at the lake, and Ryan teasing the guys working on them—which had been in good fun as the men laughed and flipped Ryan off—he insisted on walking me back to my place.

Once at my doorstep, I glanced up and got lost in his blue eyes. “Thanks… for it all. It was a really nice night, and not one I thought I’d have, to be honest.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, and he took a step closer, which had me taking one back. Suddenly, my dress felt too tight, my breasts too sensitive, my pussy too… wet.

He braced his hand on the door above my head, and I had to crane my head back to look into his face. At thirty-eight, I had experience in life with men and how they made me feel. And at five-foot-seven with a curvy, womanly body, I’d never felt “small” in the sense I was dainty.

But having Ryan’s six-foot-three hard and muscular body crowding me and blocking out everything else, I felt damn near breakable.

“Can I be honest?” His voice was husky, his focus on my mouth.

“Okay,” I breathed out. My breasts had never felt so heavy or full. My nipples had never felt so sensitive. And was it normal to be this wet?

He inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring as he slowly trailed his gaze up my face to look into my eyes. “I want you.”

I sucked in a sharp breath.

“I’ve wanted you for a long time.” He stepped even closer, his chest now brushing against mine.

“Y-You have?”

He hummed low, and when he moved his lower body closer to me, I made another startled sound when I felt how hard he was.

“I have. Maybe I was too much of a coward or life just got in the way, but I regret never saying anything.”

I licked my lips. “Why now?”

He was silent for long seconds. “Because life is too short. Because you’re gorgeous, and I want you—care about you—and there’s no time like the present.”

I didn’t know how to respond. I’d wanted Ryan for longer than I would ever admit, but I wasn’t a forward type of person so I’d never made the move to tell Ryan how I felt.

But with a few drinks in me and a wonderful night that had whisked the stress away, I was feeling brazen and warm and ready for… it all.

“I want you too—” That last word didn’t even make it out of my mouth before he slid his hand along the side of my throat, bent his upper body forward, and slammed his mouth on mine.

CHAPTER TWO

RYAN

I DIDN’T KNOW how we found ourselves in her bedroom, but as we stumbled in, I knew I wouldn’t be able to control myself. When she mewled and cried out against my lips, I’d give her fucking everything.

I’d be hard and rough, raw and demanding. Because this woman I was fucking obsessed with—had wanted for so damn long I probably looked like a stalker if she knew how many times I’d watched her—was finally going to be mine.

This wasn’t a fling nor a one-night stand.

This was a forever kind of thing, whether she knew that or not.

The lights stayed off, and I forced myself to let go of her. Right away, she took a step back and turned to face her bed, maybe having second thoughts. I knew she wanted me, wanted this. Her body told me as much by her breathing, her dilated pupils, hell, the sweet and musky scent of her wet pussy that I could fucking smell.

I stared at her ass as it popped under that little dress she wore, so plump and juicy, and one I’d fuck. Tonight.

I forced myself not to grab my cock and stroke the thick, hard fucker like a lewd bastard, but hell, I wanted to. I needed to relieve some of the pressure in my balls.

I’d never been this hard in my life, and the longer I stared at Penny, the more my dick throbbed and ached.

Her long black hair hung in loose waves over her shoulders, slightly tangled from when I gripped the strands while kissing her.

“The way you’re looking at me,” she finally whispered, breaking up my obscene thoughts of me parting her thighs and sucking on her clit and pussy lips.

“And what way is that, darlin’?” I did grab my erection then, moving my palm up and down the length slowly, leisurely.

“Like you’re starving.”

I watched the pulse at the base of her throat beat rapidly.

“Sweetheart, I’ve never been more hungry in my life than I am while looking at you.”

She let out this breathy moan.

I took another step forward and started undoing my belt. Once it was undone, I pulled it from the loops and tossed it aside so it made a clank as it hit the hardwood floor.

“Go on, sweetheart,” I growled. “Let me see how fucking gorgeous you are under those layers.”

I started unbuttoning my flannel, keeping my gaze locked on Penny, taking in every aspect of how perfect she was. And when she obeyed me so easily by slipping the straps off her dress and letting the material fall to the floor, I quickly shed the rest of my clothes until I was naked and hard and leaking pre-cum like a motherfucker.

She kicked the dress aside, and I hummed in male appreciation when I saw she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her tits were big and round, her nipples large and hard.

“Turn around,” I all but snarled like some kind of fucking feral beast.

She was breathing so damn hard as she listened and did as I said. When her perfect fat ass was on display, the twin globes a dark tan and perfect as they jiggled from her slight movement, I felt a copious amount of pre-cum dribble out the tip and slide along the underside of my dick.

And what made me harder was the fact her thong tantalized the sight of those apple mounds.

“You’re so fucking hot, so perfect.” Without warning, I walked up to her and brought my palm down on one ass cheek so hard the crack echoed in the room, but it couldn’t hide the gasp that spilled from her lips. “Fuck, Penny… this ass was made for spanking and fucking.”

She glanced over her shoulder at me, her eyes wide, her straight, white teeth nibbling at her red, full bottom lip.

“I-I didn’t realize you were such a …”

I palmed her ass, smoothing the sting away, feeling how soft and warm her flesh was. “A nasty bastard?” She made a soft, sweet sound, and I moved close enough that I could drag my dick up and down the crease of her ass, smearing my pre-cum all over her flesh.

“Have you always been this … intense?” she asked and turned around, licking her lips slow and seductively, although I didn’t think she meant to.

“Penny, baby, when it comes to you and the fact I finally have you right where I desperately need you, all my self-control is about to fucking snap.”

“As hot as you are with that little thing on, that tiny strip of fabric teasing your pussy slit and asshole, I want it off so I have easy access to your cunt. Bend over and spread your legs,” I demanded.

When she obeyed me instantly, I grinned even though she couldn’t see me. I felt my heart race when she turned back around and bent at the waist.

“Fucking spread your legs and grab your ankles like my good girl.”

Her tits swung freely as she parted those thick, lush thighs and curled her hands around her ankles.

“Mmm.” I still stroked my cock as I took a solid minute to just stare at the way that white string hid that tight little asshole from me. I reached out and palmed her ass, then smacked the side of it, the cheek jiggling again. “Yeah, just like that, baby.”

I hooked my finger under the elastic and pulled up, letting it snap back against her skin. I knew that stung, but she also lifted her ass for more.

Lifting my cock, I bounced the head on her ass, more pre-cum dripping from me before I used the crown to smear it all over her. I was on my haunches behind her a second later, my stiff cock bobbing between my thighs as I gripped each cheek and spread her wider. And then I leaned in, dragging my nose right through her center.

“You’re fucking soaked, all but dripping through the fabric, sweetheart.” I pulled the string aside, letting me see how swollen and wet and ready she was for me. And then my tongue dragged from her pussy hole to her clit before I moved back up and thrust my tongue inside her.

With one more smack to her ass, I stood and helped her to stand, facing me.

I grabbed both of her fat tits, molding my fingers around the soft flesh, and lowered my face to those luscious mounds. I licked at the turgid peaks, sucked on them until she was breathing hard for me and had her hands on my shoulders, her nails in my flesh.

I pulled back and saw her areolas were tight, her nipples elongated from my suctioning, the scent of her primed cunt filling my head and making me drunk.

“I bet you feel so empty right now, don’t you?”

She whimpered and nodded.

“Want me to take care of that? Want me to shove this big cock in your pussy and make you come with it?”

She closed her eyes and panted, nodding again.

I rubbed my thumb along her bottom lip, thinking of all the nasty, filthy fucking things I wanted to have her do with that pretty mouth of hers. Hell, there wasn’t enough time in a day for all the lewd shit that played through my head where Penny was concerned.

It was to the point when I was almost too far gone to care if I was going too fast right now.

Penny glanced down, and I stroked myself quicker, harder, squeezing the root before dragging my palm up so she could see how much pre-cum I had for her.

“You’re really big, Ryan.”

My cock jerked at hearing her say that.

“Think you can take all this dick in that pretty mouth and throat?”

She lifted her gaze back to my face.

“I want to hear you gag. I want to feel your throat tighten around me as I come and force you to swallow it all.” I grinned. “Now, how about you do what Daddy says and drop to your knees so you can choke on my dick?”

Her lips parted a second before she whispered, “You’re a nasty bastard.” And then she sank to her knees and opened wide as she stared into my eyes.

I reached out again and stroked her lips, forcing my thumb into her mouth, waiting until she instinctively started sucking on it.

Penny swirled her tongue, and I kept jerking off, letting her see what was to come. I pulled my thumb out and took hold of her chin, tilting her head back and forcing her to look at me.

“You ready?”

She slowly shook her head but opened wide.

“Good,” I said and grinned. “Because you haven’t seen anything yet, sweetheart.”

CHAPTER THREE

PENNY

GOD. This was the single most erotic experience I’d ever had in my life.

And I was here for it.

Ryan’s cock was huge, thick, and long, and as clichéd as it sounded, I didn’t even know if he’d fit comfortably inside me. Was a vagina made to take something that big?

But he was a big man all around, and to have all that raw power wrapped up in an over six-and-a-half-foot frame was almost too much for a woman to handle.

Almost.

I felt his hand slide along the back of my neck, gripping my nape tightly and pulling me forward. Bracing my hands on his muscled thighs, I ran my tongue over the flared head of his cock. Ryan groaned, then started fucking my mouth.

In and out. Harder and faster until his cockhead hit the back of my throat.

When I gagged, he moaned and started thrusting into me with more force.

“I want inside you, Penny baby. I want my dick in your sweet little cunt so fucking much my balls ache.” He hummed and started really fucking my mouth then, hitting the back of my throat, his salty pre-cum spilling down and into my belly. “Yeah,” he grunted. “So fucking good.”

His hold on my nape loosened, but only so he could slide his hand to the back of my head and grip the strands. He jerked me back, his cock slipping out of the tight suction of my lips with a resounding pop.

“As much as I want to keep doing this, I need to taste you. I need to feel your pussy gripping me like a vise.”

He helped me off the ground, and with a hand on my waist, he pulled me flush with his body. All his hard, defined lines were flush with my softer, fuller ones. My thong was so wet it rubbed uncomfortably against my slit.

He ran his hand along my side, over my belly, and grabbed the soft flesh, pulling on it and then groaning.

“God, I love your body, love how I can grip you, and you can take it.”

The praise he gave me, the way he looked at me and saw so much beauty I couldn’t even comprehend it, made me feel so… powerful.

“I could tell you over and over, for the rest of my life, how pretty you are, how hot and fuckable you are, but it wouldn’t be enough. It’ll never be enough.”

The slow glide of his lips along my jaw had me closing my eyes and letting my head fall back, giving him better access. Ryan used his other hand to grip my ass, squeezing the mound hard and almost painfully. But it turned me on even more.

“And this ass, fuck, it’s so big and round, and I want to bury my face between the cheeks and feast on you.”

“You want my mouth on your pussy, want me licking you until you come all over my face, don’t you?” His voice was so deep and rough that it was like a wild animal growling.

A shiver worked through me, and I couldn’t verbally respond, so I just nodded.

His mouth crashed against mine.

“On the bed,” he groaned when he broke away. “And spread wide so I can feast on your pussy.”

RYAN

I FELT like a wild fucking animal as I watched Penny climb up on the bed with her ass in the air as she crawled on her hands and knees.

“Wait,” I managed to grit out. Walking over to her, I gripped the edge of her thong and ripped it off her body in one swift move. The string dug into her skin a second before it ripped.

“The hell—”

Her words died when I brought her thong to my nose and inhaled deeply, all the while holding her gaze with mine.

“I’m keeping these,” I said and let the strip of material fall to the floor before moving closer to her. “Now… spread your legs and let me see that sweet pussy of yours.”

Penny stared at me for a second, but then she complied, spreading those gorgeous thick legs and letting me see that pink center. Fucking hell, she was pretty. All soaked and swollen and mine.

I moved onto the bed and took residence between her legs. Placing my hands on her inner thighs, I pushed them open even farther, watching as her pussy spread even wider for me. Her cunt was all smooth and glistening with the arousal I caused in her. She was primed for me, but I wanted her soaking, dripping with nectar until she soaked the bedsheets.

I lifted my hand and ran a finger down the center of her cunt. Her body visibly shook, and even if she couldn’t see me, I smiled, loving that just the slightest touch affected her so much.

Placing my thumb on her clit, I started rubbing small circles around it, gently at first before adding more pressure until she writhed for me and begged me to give her what she needed.

“You’re making a fucking mess, baby, and I fucking love it.” I slipped my finger into the wet, hot depth of her body, grunting when her pussy sucked the digit inside. “Yeah, my girl is fucking hungry for my cock, isn’t she.” I didn’t phrase it as a question. She’d be getting it, all of it. All of me.

I finger fucked her in long strokes while I rubbed her clit in hard, slow circles. The breathy cries that came from Penny had my dick cursing me out for torturing both of us and just not fucking her right now.

“God. Yes, I’m so close, Ryan…”

The way my name fell from her lips, all breathy and full of need, had me baring my teeth in a snarl.

I continued to push my finger into her, then added a second, then a third.

“That’s too much—”

“You’ll take it all. My cock is bigger than three fingers, sweetheart, and I have to open you up so I don’t hurt you.” I twisted my fingers in her, and I knew she was close to getting off. I could feel it as her inner muscles tightened around the digits, and the fact she was now fucking herself on them.

I pulled my fingers out just as she looked over her shoulder at me, and I brought them to my mouth and sucked them clean. Then I had my face buried in her pussy, all that sweet, musky cream covering my cheeks and chin as I licked and sucked on her pussy lips, as I growled and swallowed all that honey that spilled from her tight little hole.

For long minutes, I gorged myself in all the nectar Penny gave me, her pussy the best fucking thing I’d ever tasted. Only when I was seconds away from coming did I force myself to pull away, give her ass a swat, then grip her waist and flip her over.

She fell onto her back, her legs falling open on their own, and those glorious tits shaking from the motion.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll be sore come morning.”

I placed a hand on each of her legs, feeling the soft flesh of her inner thighs still slick from our combined fluids, and made a primal sound of need.

Placing the very tip of my dick at the entrance of her cunt, I lifted my gaze to her face and pushed into her. Nice and slow. Both of us gasped at the feeling.

Penny’s mouth opened wordlessly, and her back arched. And when she lifted her hands to grip those mounds and pull at her nipples, it was the hottest fucking thing I’d ever seen.

I looked at where we were connected and watched as I thrust in and out. I fucked her this way until I was sweaty and feeling like I was about to lose my fucking mind. I pulled out, but only long enough to flip us so I was on my back and she was on top.

“Ride me, baby, work for my cum.” Her pussy lips were smooth and bare, and she had a rimmed thatch of dark curls above her swollen clit.

Penny gripped my dick, all wet from being inside her, and placed the crown at her entrance before she sank down. Her hands landed on my pecs as she took me inside her. When our pelvises were flush, she panted as she gave herself a moment to adjust to this new position. I was even deeper now, hitting different places that would have her gushing all over me.

And then she rose up and down, working that pretty, tight pussy on my dick. Her wetness coated my shaft and her inner thighs, the sloppy sounds of her body sucking at mine so damn loud and obscene I had to grit my teeth or I’d come.

I was riveted to the sight of my cock disappearing into her body, then re-emerging.

“Fuck, Penny. That’s it.” I spanked her ass over and over again, and she let her head fall back slightly and closed her eyes. The moan that came from her and how she started moving faster, seeking her own pleasure, had my balls tightening painfully.

There was no amount of holding back this time. I was going to come, fill her up with all my seed, and she would go right over the edge with me.

“More. Give me fucking more.” I tightened my hold on her outer thighs, squeezed her lush flesh as my orgasm started to rise, and wasn’t going to stop myself from getting off again. “Jesus Christ.” I lifted my hips, pounding my dick into her every time she pushed down.

And then I came. I reached up to grab her bouncing tits, squeezing the big, juicy mounds.

I growled as I came, filling her with my release.

The pleasure made me delirious, and I flipped us over and pounded into her like a madman, knowing I was probably hurting her. Still, she held on to me and moaned for more.

I collapsed on top of her, breathing in her scent as I tried to return to reality.

“My Penny,” I murmured and ran the tip of my nose along the side of her throat.

For long moments, I just held her, and when she wrapped her arms around me, I groaned at how good it felt.

“So,” I said as I rolled us over, her back to my chest, but kept her in my arms. This was where she was meant to be. “What would you say to me staying the night?”

She glanced over her shoulder at me, her gaze hooded from her post-orgasmic high.

I felt my cock start to thicken again. The hard length nudged the crease of her ass, and she popped it out more, a silent invitation that she was ready for round two.

“Seeing as we both live here… you’re kind of stuck with me.”

Grinning, I buried my face in the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply. “What are you trying to say, Mrs. Black?” I closed my eyes when the sweet scent of everything that was my wife filled me.

“I’d say you’re insatiable, Mr. Black.”

I growled, not denying it. “When you suggested a little role play and pretend we do a one-night-stand, I have to say, sweetheart, I didn’t realize how hard it would make me.” I thrust said hard cock against her ass, and the length slipped between the cheeks.

“It was exactly the stress reliever I needed.” Her voice was warm and soft.

After ten years of marriage, sometimes we needed a little spark to make things fresh again. Sometimes you needed to be reminded of how good you had it.

“I didn’t think I could get that wet,” she admitted and pressed back against me.

I knew she was a mess between her legs, my cum and her pussy juices making everything sticky and turning me on again.

I started pushing forward and retreating. Over and over again until she was all but begging me to fuck her again.

“You want this, baby?” I gripped her hip hard enough I knew it hurt, but then she gave me a hot little mewl and whispered, “Yes.”

“I’m fucking you in the ass this time.” I kissed the side of her throat before licking it. “Get the lube because you know how big I am, and I need that ass to open for me, baby.”

She gasped but did exactly what I wanted because she knew nothing sounded better than ending the night with her husband’s dick in her ass and my fingers on her clit.

The End

About the Author

Jenika Snow is a USA Today bestselling author who has published over 300 smutty romances since 2009.

Want to read more in the Real Man series: Check them out here: https://jenikasnow.com/series/a-real-man/

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LOVE LIKE CRAZY

JENNA HARTLEY

CHAPTER ONE

ISABELLE

“HELLO!” I called as I pushed open the door with my elbow, dragging after another long day as an occupational therapist. “Anyone home?”

The kids laughed in the other room, and I frowned. They never laughed when Mrs. Schneider was over. In fact, they almost always complained when they knew she was going to be taking care of them after school. I felt bad, but I also didn’t have much of a choice.

There was no one else besides me.

My parents and I had stopped talking a few years ago after I’d testified against my sister, Lina. Then Mom had the gall to accuse me of stealing Lina’s kids. Even now, two years later, her hurtful words still took up space in my head.

I can’t believe you’d do this, Isabelle. To your own sister. How could you?

I kicked off my sneakers, wanting to push away those memories like the kids’ shoes that were shoved in a messy pile by the door. Steal? I was the only one who’d ever looked out for Dara, Navi, and Stellan. Loved them the way a parent should.

I was the one who’d uprooted my life at twenty-three. Who’d worked several jobs at once. Who’d put my dreams on the back burner. Who’d completely given up on the idea of having a social life, of finding love.

Because, really, what guy wanted to raise three kids who weren’t his own?

Three kids who were beautiful and unique in their own ways. Who often struggled because of everything they’d been through. You couldn’t be abandoned by your own parent and not have some issues. I would know.

Add to that the fact that I barely had enough energy to parent three kids who ranged from four to ten at the time. Well, forget about a romantic relationship.

“Hello?” I called again, winding through the house. When I reached the kitchen, I went to set down my bag on the counter by the door, but everything seemed to happen in slow motion. For a moment, time froze as I drank in the scene before me.

Dara, Navi, and Stellan were all standing at the counter in a line, their faces screwed up in concentration. A man’s back was to me, but I’d know that ass and those tats anywhere. I just didn’t know what Asher was doing here, in my home. Teaching my kids how to make pastries, of all things.

He leaned over and instructed Dara on the proper technique for holding the piping bag before turning for the fridge and catching sight of me. He scanned my body with his eyes, his lust undisguised even though my hair was a frizz ball of epic proportions and my scrubs were plastered to my body with sweat. I felt disgusting—or at least, I had until he’d looked at me.

But when Asher turned those soulful brown eyes to me, the whole world stopped and I became someone else. Someone sexy and confident. The object of all his desires. At least that’s what he’d told me the other night when he was coming down my throat. And I’d believed him.

I still wanted to believe it was true, even if his usual cocky smile was currently a bit less self-assured and a smidge more sheepish than normal. “Hey.” He rubbed the back of his neck, and I tried to ignore how good he looked in my kitchen. Talking with my children. Making them laugh.

“Isa!” Dara jumped off her stool and came to give me a hug, adding a flour smudge to the stains and sweat that already marred my scrubs. “Have you met Asher? He’s a famous pastry chef.”

“Mm.” I crossed my arms over my chest after she moved back to the sink. My eyes nearly bugged out of my head at the sight of my six-year-old voluntarily washing her hands, and with only one pump of soap. Not the ten she so often defaulted to.

First, the laughing. And now this? Who were these kids, and what had Asher done with mine? More importantly, what the hell was he doing here?

He wasn’t supposed to be here.

“We’ve met,” I said, my tone unamused. “Where’s Mrs. Schneider?”

“Do you think you guys can pipe the dough like I showed you?” Asher’s tone was both confident and assertive when he asked. It was the same tone I’d often heard him use with his own staff. Or during our trysts. I squeezed my thighs together.

“Yes, Chef,” they said in unison, starting immediately on the task.

My head jerked to my children then back to Asher. Yes, Chef?

Aliens. That had to be the answer. My children had been abducted by aliens.

“Navi, you’re in charge until I get back,” Asher told my eldest.

“Yes, Chef,” she said again, her expression solemn.

I could barely get my kids to put away their laundry and make their beds. Now they were saying, “Yes, Chef,” and piping pastry dough with the type of concentration I’d seen reserved solely for video games.

Asher placed his hand on the small of my back, leading me into the living room. I tried to ignore the way my body responded to even that little, innocent touch. But it felt as if I’d been electrocuted in the best possible way.

It was too much. And it wasn’t part of the deal.

Sex? Yes.

Meeting the family? No.

Feelings? Hell to the no.

“There was an emergency,” he said.

“What?” I nearly choked on the word, my mind spinning with possibilities. “What kind of emergency? Is Mrs. Schneider okay? Why didn’t she call me?”

Why hadn’t Navi called me? She had a very basic cell phone specifically for such a purpose.

Out of instinct, my attention immediately went to the kids. I could see them around the corner, but they couldn’t necessarily see us—at least not where we were currently standing. They all looked fine. Happy, even.

“She fell out of her attic. About a six-foot drop.”

“Oh shit,” I whispered, covering my mouth with my hand. What was she doing in the attic? Alone?

“Yeah.” He grimaced. “She’ll be in the hospital for a few days before she moves to rehab. At least that’s what my gran said earlier. She tried to call you to let you know.”

In that case, I supposed I’d be seeing Mrs. Schneider soon. I was glad I’d have the opportunity to help her and maybe repay some of her kindness toward me and the kids. I just wished it was under different circumstances.

“Your gran…” I frowned. I wondered if that was the number I hadn’t recognized.

We weren’t allowed to take personal calls during our shift at the rehab facility. Even if we were, treating patients required my full attention as an occupational therapist. Not to mention the fact that I had a well-established habit of ignoring unknown numbers since my sister had the uncanny knack for calling at the most inconvenient times.

“She’s Mrs. Schneider’s neighbor,” Asher said. “She knew Mrs. Schneider was supposed to come watch the kids today, so Gran asked if I could help. I was here when the kids got home from school.”

“Thank you,” I said, but then another thought occurred to me. “But how did you get them to agree? My kids aren’t very trusting. And they know better than to let a stranger into the house.”

“Mrs. Schneider FaceTimed with them on my phone. And she’d already given me the secret passcode.” I could tell from the way his lips twitched that he was trying not to laugh.

“That was their idea,” I said, referring to the song selected, a rendition of Baby Shark with the word “poop” substituted for “shark” and a bunch of fart noises for the singing. How embarrassing!

Though, I guessed Asher should’ve been the one embarrassed. He would’ve had to sing it to them to prove he was trustworthy. Now that would’ve been worth seeing.

“But she’s doing okay?” I asked, returning to Mrs. Schneider.

“As well as can be expected,” he said, then briefly explained her injuries.

I was relieved Mrs. Schneider was going to be okay, even if she had a long recovery ahead. She really was a sweet woman. But now, I was out a sitter. I’d have to find someone new, and I had a feeling anyone else would be more expensive. Significantly so.

Fuck-diggity.

I scrubbed a hand over my face, trying to ignore the curiosity blazing in Asher’s eyes. It was as tangible as the scent of his freshly baked pastries when I’d first seen him at Fall River Estates. He knew I had kids; it was impossible to keep something like that a secret in a small town. Especially in the AV where there was a freaking gossip blog like The Vine.

But he’d always known better than to ask about them. We’d purposely kept that part of my life firmly out of our interactions. I didn’t ask about his past, and he didn’t inquire about mine. It was better that way.

I finally asked him the question that had been bugging me since the moment I’d stepped over the kitchen threshold and into an alternate universe. “Why are you here, Asher?”

“I wanted to help.”

I barked out a laugh that sounded hysterical even to my own ears. “Help?”

Somehow, I found that difficult to believe, despite how nice everyone had been since we’d moved here. Liam Beaudin had once loaned us cash at the grocery store when I’d left my wallet at home. Bennett Nash had given Stellan a ride home from school several times, even offering to let him play with River. And Tristan Lockwood had stopped and given my car battery a jump when I’d broken down on the side of the road.

Asher’s three best friends…hmm.

Now that I knew Asher better, now that I knew more about the social structure of the AV… Well, I was beginning to wonder if those weren’t, in fact, the “random” acts of kindness I’d believed them to be. But instead, Asher’s best friends had helped me specifically because they knew about our relationship—if you could even call it that.

“Yeah.” Asher stepped closer, tucking my hair behind my ear. “Helping.”

I wanted nothing more than to lean into his touch, knowing the escape he could provide. But one of the kids might walk in at any moment, and my head was still spinning after discovering my fling hanging with my family as if it were an everyday occurrence. It honestly felt like it could be one—it was all so…natural.

But this couldn’t become a regular thing. So, I took a shaky breath and a few steps back, my eyes firmly on the floor.

“I should work on dinner,” I said, my skin prickling with awareness. It was getting late. I needed to get him out of here before this got even more awkward and complicated than it already was. “Thanks for watching them.”

Asher frowned. “We already had pizza.”

I opened my wallet and held out some cash. “Hopefully this will cover it,” I said, afraid it wasn’t nearly enough. And not just for the pizza. For how kind Asher had been and how happy the kids were. I would’ve made a joke about finding another way to “repay” him, but now he’d ruined that.

He was supposed to be a fun, sexy, no-strings fling. The one thing I did for myself.

And then he’d broken the rules. My hot, tattooed friend with benefits had come to my home. Taken care of my kids. Freaking showed them how to make pastry. Heck, not only was he good with my kids, he even seemed to like them.

“No need.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “We made it from scratch.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and heard the rustle of his clothes as he shifted closer.

“What are you doing?” I whispered, scared to open my eyes. Terrified of letting him in.

Because suddenly, this fling had become something else. Something more…dangerous. And potentially heartbreaking.

“Making profiteroles,” he said.

“No.” I shook my head and opened my eyes once more. “You know what I mean.”

He placed his finger beneath my chin, lifting until my eyes were level with his. “Having fun.”

I wasn’t sure whether he meant with the kids or me, but his answer was both reassuring and disappointing.

Make up your freaking mind, Isa!

“Chef?” Stellan called. “We need assistance, please.”

Asher smirked. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have chefs-in-training waiting and profiteroles to finish.”

I stepped back and took a minute to catch my breath. When I finally joined them in the kitchen, the kids begged me to let him stay. I couldn’t have said no even if I’d wanted to.

So much for keeping things separate.

CHAPTER TWO

ISABELLE

I’D JUST FINISHED PUTTING the kids to bed when my phone vibrated with an incoming text from Asher. It had been a few days since he’d filled in for Mrs. Schneider, and the kids had been begging to see him again. I didn’t blame them. I wanted to see him too, but I didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea about what this was.

Because when it ended, which it inevitably would, when Asher realized the amount of work that went into having kids or he grew tired of me, he’d leave. And then I’d be stuck picking up the pieces of everyone’s shattered hopes and broken hearts.

Outside, there was a distant rumble that sounded like the engine of a motorcycle. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking because it reminded me of the night I’d ridden on the back of Asher’s bike. I’d felt more like myself, more carefree, than I had in years.

My sigh was filled with longing. A wish that we could go back. That things hadn’t gotten so complicated.

No. I shook my head, grabbing Stellan’s backpack from the floor and setting it on the bench by the door. This was better for everyone. But Asher didn’t seem to want to take the hint.

He’d been asking to meet up more. Texting me randomly with pictures of pastry. Funny GIFs. Asher, the brooding guy who rarely joked about anything, let alone pastry.

Had he done this with other women? I wanted to believe I was special, but I told myself to stop being foolish.

Even so, I couldn’t stop myself from reading his text message.

Asher: Can I come by tomorrow night after work?

The past few times, I’d ignored his texts or responded by claiming that I was busy. Or that I had work. A small part of me didn’t want to let him go, even though I knew I had to.

I took a deep breath and typed out the words, my fingers hovering over “Send,” until I finally hit the button.

Me: I don’t think that’s a good idea.

Asher: I just want to see you and the kids.

Gah! Why did he have to add that in there—the kids?

It was something so simple, yet he’d done it automatically. Like it was no big deal. It was a huge freaking deal.

Asher: How about now instead?

My attention darted to the door. I tiptoed over to the front window and peeked out from behind the curtain.

Sure enough, a motorcycle was parked along the street. Not just any motorcycle, but Asher’s. Fuck-ditty-duck-duck.

I hesitated, and he must have sensed it. My phone buzzed again. A gentle nudge that felt more like being pushed off a cliff.

Asher: Come on, Isabelle. Let me in.

Let me in. His words rang through my head. And I knew he wasn’t going away. Asher was stubborn and headstrong and sexy AF. He wasn’t going to give up. He wasn’t going to let this go.

I just needed to get this over with. Put an end to it. Us.

No. I shook my head. There was no “us.”

I smoothed down my hair, adding a fresh layer of clear lip gloss in the mirror by the front door. I didn’t know why I was going to so much effort, especially if I was planning to end this.

When I swung open the door, my mouth went dry at the sight of him leaning against the front column. His face was cast in the shadows, the angles more severe, his eyes glittering in the darkness. He looked almost sinister, and yet I’d never been more turned on.

His dark hair was messy as if he’d been running his hands through it. His dark T-shirt clung to his chest, tattoos snaking their way down his arms, over his hands. Reminding me of all the places I’d touched him.

Dark gray jeans hung off his hips, a flash of his powerful quads clinging to his motorcycle, making my own thighs clench in response. I didn’t want to want him, but I did.

I closed the door behind me, thankful the porch light wasn’t on so my neighbors wouldn’t see us. Not that I cared what they thought about me or my personal life. But thanks to The Vine, gossip spread like the wildfires that sometimes plagued the region. And I would never want to do anything that would hurt my kids or make their lives more difficult.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “What do you want?”

He scoffed and rubbed his hand up and down his bicep. “I want to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I said. “That’s one of the perks of our arrangement. No strings, no complicated conversations.”

He stepped closer, the scent of vanilla and leather wafting over to me. “So that’s all this is?”

“That’s all this,” I said, gesturing between us, “can ever be.” Even though I didn’t want it to be true.

The past few weeks with Asher had been…life-changing. He’d helped me rediscover myself, and my sexuality, after a long period of dormancy. I’d forgotten what it was like to have fun. To be carefree, reckless even. Until Asher.

He invaded my space, his body mere inches from mine. His scowl was somehow both sexy and intimidating, and I simultaneously wanted to push him away and never let him go.

God, I was such a mess.

“Isabelle,” he rasped, cupping my cheek. “Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not—”

He placed his finger against my lips. “Is this about the kids? Did you think I’d somehow find you less attractive because you’re a mom?”

He dragged his finger down my lips, my blood heating at the blatant desire in his eyes. This was what we excelled at. Our chemistry was off the charts, and part of that was due to the fact that our relationship—if you could even call it that—wasn’t complicated. And that’s how it needed to stay.

“I’m…” I swallowed hard, not even sure how to answer that question. But the fact that he was standing here, asking me, pleading with me to let him in made me want to tell him. “Yeah, I guess so.” I let out an exhale, anxiety and relief all mixed together at that admission.

He shook his head, smoothing his hands over my shoulders, down to my hips. “If anything, it makes you more desirable to me.”

I couldn’t help it. I asked, “You’re kidding, right?”

“I’m the son of a single mother. My older brother and I had to help around the house. I volunteered to cook, and I’ve always loved experimenting in the kitchen. So, I’m sorry if I inserted myself into your life in a way you didn’t appreciate, but I saw myself in your kids. And I wanted to give them something I couldn’t give myself as a child.”

Well, damn. Here I was, ready to break up with him. Instead, he’d burrowed himself a little deeper into my heart.

“Well, um, thank you,” I said, shifting. The wood porch was cool beneath my feet. “I know they absolutely loved it. They will not stop talking about the pizza and profiteroles.”

“Yeah?” His lips quirked up at the side.

“Yeah.” I smiled, softening. He looked so boyish sometimes, despite the tattoos marking his skin and the facial hair that lined his jaw.

Asher wasn’t the grump everyone believed him to be. Nor was he a bad boy, as one might suspect from his tattoos. He was so much more than that. Caring and patient. Intense and also funny.

“We could make it a regular thing,” he said, swaying my hips from side to side as he backed me toward the edge of the porch then down the side of the house where the shadows completely obscured us from view. “Pizza and profiterole night.”

“Mm,” I said, tapping my chin as if I were actually considering it. “Tempting, but I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

He scoffed, then slid his hands up my ribs. I arched my back on a quick exhale, my nipples pebbling in response, my core throbbing with need as our chests brushed against each other. His eyes darted to my chest, growing hooded.

“So, you won’t miss this?” he asked, sliding his hand beneath my shirt. His palm was warm on my bare skin, and I nearly yelped when he pinched my nipple gently. It felt good. Too good.

I shook my head, though it took considerable effort. “Nope.”

He slid my shirt up over my breasts, sucking my nipple between his teeth. I bucked my hips, delving my fingers into his unruly hair as if seeking purchase while I was drifting away. Floating above my body. Ohmygod, that feels good.

“Asher,” I growled, careful to keep my voice low.

“Isabelle.” His voice was gravelly as he kissed his way down my stomach, kneeling before me.

“What are you doing?” I asked, unable to hide the desire from my voice as he tugged roughly on my shorts and underwear.

He peered up at me, and even in the darkness, his eyes glittered with mischief as he lifted my leg over his shoulder. “Reminding you of all the reasons we’re so good together.”

That was just it. We were good together—in bed. But in the real world…

My eyes rolled back in my head the moment his tongue hit my clit. Oh sweet baby Jesus.

Screw the real world. I spent enough time there as it was. For just a little while longer, I was going to allow myself to live in this fantasy.

CHAPTER THREE

ASHER

ISABELLE MELTED IN MY ARMS, her supple body even more pliant after her orgasm. I held her close, inhaling her scent. I didn’t know when it had happened, but I’d let her in. And now I didn’t want to let her go.

I knew it wouldn’t be easy, between my scars and her kids, but I wanted to try. I just needed to make her see. I needed to remind her of how incredible this thing was between us.

“This is the last time,” she said through clenched teeth.

“Sure you don’t want to reconsider?” I taunted, turning her so her back was to me.

Her dark curls cascaded down her back, the scent of her shampoo driving me mad. I had dreams of her scent. I’d even tried to recreate it in pastry cream form.

I leaned in, inhaling deeply. She smelled warm and romantic with hints of cardamom, pineapple, citrus, and something else. Something I’d never been able to replicate, no matter how many hours I’d spent in the kitchen or how many flavor combinations I’d tried. It was unique and delicious, just like this woman.

I guided her hands to the wall, pressing them to the siding. While we sometimes met up at my place, we were often too impatient or short on time. We’d had sex at the winery where I worked. In her car at a park. And so many other places around the AV, it was a miracle no one had caught us and shared the dirty details with V from The Vine.

Isabelle was surprisingly adventurous for someone who came off as such a rule-follower, and I loved that about her.

When I leaned in to nip at her ear, she glared at me over her shoulder.

Fuck, she’s beautiful.

I’d expected her to protest some more, but the next words out of her mouth were, “I’m sure. Now get inside me,” which only made me want to pound into her until she forgot everything but my name.

Instead, I took my time, dragging this out. I didn’t want this to be the last time, but if it was, I was sure as hell going to make the most of it.

I slid on a condom and lined myself up with her core. I pressed against her entrance, filling her slowly and making her moan. Teasing her and delaying her pleasure, just the way I knew she loved. Until I was fully seated, my front pressed to her back. Our bodies completely connected in the most intimate and thrilling of ways.

It was different with Isabelle. It had been since the beginning; I just hadn’t wanted to admit it.

Now, faced with the prospect of losing her, I couldn’t deny it any longer. I wanted Isabelle. And not just for a night or a fling. I wanted something more with her.

I brushed her hair over her shoulder and leaned forward to rasp, “Liar,” in her ear.

She didn’t challenge it. In fact, her body clenched around me tighter as if to agree with me despite her protest. I smirked and reached around her to pull her even closer, sliding my hand down to her clit and rubbing. All the while, she wiggled her ass against me, almost as if she couldn’t help herself.

Oh yeah. I hissed as I slid into her again and again, my own release building like a distant thunderstorm. This was happening. We were happening.

When she started to call out moments later, I cupped my hand over her mouth. “Shh, Isa,” I whispered. “You don’t want anyone to know about us, do you?”

The words were said hastily, almost angrily. And it wasn’t until I’d voiced them aloud that I realized how much I wanted to be more than her secret fuck buddy.

She nipped at my palm, and her feistiness only made me more aroused. With one hand on her mouth and the other on her pussy, I fought off my release until I felt her clenching around me. Biting down on my hand as she struggled to remain silent while she came.

And then I couldn’t hold back anymore. I jerked my hips, losing control as I spilled into her. Like lightning exploding out of me and into her, striking us both with its electric intensity. Until I could barely hold us up any longer.

“Wow.” I staggered backward then kneeled at her feet once more. Fuck.

I gently pulled up her underwear and shorts, entranced by the marks on her skin from where my fingers had been. The scratches on her breasts from the siding. I kissed them gently, delighted when goose bumps broke out across her body.

And then I replaced her shirt and stood, cleaning myself up. I’d have to wait to dispose of the condom until later, but it seemed like a small price to pay.

I stepped closer, removing a leaf from her hair. “When can I see you again?”

“I told you—” She gnashed her teeth, crossing her arms over her chest. “This was the last time.”

My stomach dropped as I ran my hand through my hair, gripping at the short strands. I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt more…used. I didn’t like it. But I also didn’t buy it.

“Why?”

“I have responsibilities. I can’t just think about what I want.”

So she did want this. I knew it.

“Maybe not, but you also can’t push aside your needs for everyone else’s.”

“That’s part of being a parent. Doing what’s best for your kids.”

Nope. She was using them as an excuse.

“Don’t put this on the kids. Don’t blame them for pushing me away. This is your choice, Isabelle.”

“You’re right. This is my decision because I’m their parent.” She jabbed a finger into her chest. “I was in the delivery room the moment each of them took their first breath. I changed their diapers. I fought for them. I went to war with my own family to get custody of my sister’s kids. And I strive every day to be the parent they deserve.”

By the time she’d finished, her chest was heaving, her breath sawing in and out. And she’d never been more beautiful to me than in that moment. The proud mama bear defending her cubs.

But I needed her to know—she didn’t have to do it all alone. In the short time I’d spent with Isabelle’s family, I was already falling for her kids. Just as I was falling for her.

“Isa.” I stepped closer, my hands spread as if she really were a mother bear who might attack at any moment. “I would never want to take away from what you’ve done. I see how much you love your kids.” I placed my hands on her arms. “And how hard you work to provide an amazing life for them.”

She scoffed and glanced away. “Not sure I’d call it amazing.”

“I would,” I said, hoping she’d see the sincerity in my eyes when I lifted her chin. “But you don’t have to do it on your own. And you certainly don’t need to protect them from me.”

“Of course I do. I have to protect them from everyone and everything.” The fire was back in her eyes, blazing with a heat that was both sexy and intimidating. Isabelle was fiercely protective of and loyal to the people she loved. A lot like my own mom.

I nodded. I could only imagine how difficult it was for Isabelle to rely on someone else. Even from what little I knew of her past, her own family—the people who were supposed to be there for you and love you unconditionally—had betrayed her. But I also understood a bit about that too.

I thought back to Bianca and how different things had been with her. A few months after the accident, we’d called off the wedding. At the time I’d needed her most, she’d abandoned me. Isabelle had never been anything but accepting.

“I know you think you’re protecting them, but in shielding your heart, you’re denying them the chance to experience real love. To understand the power of vulnerability and the depth of relationships.”

She scoffed. “Wow. Would’ve never expected such romantic and eloquent words from the AV’s resident manwhore.”

Her words stung, but they weren’t undeserved. After the accident and what had happened with Bianca…I’d sought out superficial relationships and casual sex to cope with the pain. To numb it.

But there was no numbing it. Not the pain, the shame, or the guilt.

It was only after Tessa’s death and watching my best friend Tristan go through something so awful, to then find love again, that I realized just how wrong I’d been. And meeting Isabelle and then Dara, Navi, and Stellan had merely confirmed it. I’d been an idiot. But I didn’t want to live like that anymore.

“I’m—” I gnashed my teeth, cursing V and the damn Vine. I’d lost count of how many times she’d posted about my exploits—real or imagined—in her gossip blog. What she shared wasn’t even always true. But unfortunately, most people believed it was.

I took a deep breath. This was important. “I can’t change my past. But I want a different future—one with you and the kids. With you and Dara, Navi, and Stellan. I want to try.”

She leveled me with a gaze. “Why?”

I cupped her cheeks, not wanting to hold back. “Isn’t it obvious?”

She shook her head.

I dropped my forehead to hers. “Because I care about you.”

“I—” She swallowed hard. Blew out a breath. Seconds passed, but it felt like hours. Waiting was agony. And then she finally whispered, “I care about you too, Asher.”

“Then give me a chance. Give us a chance.”

She pulled her bottom lip into her mouth, and I knew that meant she was considering it. “Between the kids and now you, I’m fighting a losing battle, aren’t I?”

“Yes.” I grinned, thrilled that I had the kids’ support. They were fucking awesome, and I knew their opinion was important to Isa. It was important to me too.

She let out a deep sigh. “No PDA in front of the kids. No sleepovers.”

I grinned. Fuck yes, she was agreeing. I didn’t care what her stipulations were. I’d follow every rule she laid out. Though I had a feeling they wouldn’t last long, at least not if I had my way.

She leveled me with a glare. “I’m serious, Asher.”

“So, is that a yes?” I asked, scared to get my hopes up. It had been a long time since I’d allowed myself to truly want anything.

“Yes to what, exactly?”

“Yes to being my girlfriend.” God, that sounded corny. The Vine was going to have a field day with this—the woman who had finally tamed the AV’s notorious player. “Or whatever. Yes to trying.”

“I guess it is,” she said, shoulders relaxing as I pulled her into my arms.

“Don’t sound so excited,” I teased before kissing the top of her head. I felt at ease for the first time in longer than I could remember.

“I was supposed to break up with you.”

“I much prefer this outcome,” I said, smiling when she gave me a squeeze.

“So do I,” she sighed. “But I’m scared.”

Which was why I was going to love her—and the kids—like crazy.

I was going to prove that I could be exactly what they needed. Because I knew with absolute certainty that they were what I wanted.

Thank you so much for reading Love Like Crazy. I hope you enjoyed this preview of Asher and Isabelle’s story.

Want to lose yourself in a small-town romance with big feels?

Check out the rest of the Alondra Valley Series, where jilted brides and brother’s best friends find their happily ever afters among this tight-knit community known for its love and acceptance, nosy online gossip blogger, and alpacas.

Take me away to the Alondra Valley!

About the Author

Jenna Hartley writes romance about strong women and the men who dare to love them. Her stories feature sexy, sweet, and laughable moments that reflect real love.

When she’s not reading or writing, Jenna is chasing after her daughter or enjoying another episode of the Great British Bake Off with her husband. She lives in Texas with her family and loves nothing more than a good book and good chocolate.

You can find out more about Jenna and her books at her website

Or connect with Jenna and keep up with the latest news on her upcoming releases, giveaways, and more by signing up for her newsletter

TURNING POINTE

JENNA LYNN

CHAPTER ONE

CHARLOTTE

“C’MON, CHARLIE,” my best friend, Felicity, sighs as she sits on the end of my bed. “There’s no point in practicing all night. You already have the entire routine down and it’s absolutely flawless.”

I smile at her words but know in my heart that perfection doesn’t just come easily. Though dancing is in my blood and I’m good at it, the only way I’ll get to where I want to be is by humbling myself and being realistic about my goals. Going out and getting shit-faced will only distract me.

I start back in a demi-plié and rise up en pointe, bringing my arms up in a perfect oval. The music plays and I raise my leg gracefully, making sure to keep my center tight and my balance steady.

“Ughh…” She moans, now dramatically flopping herself across the entire bedspread.

I drop down from my raised position and turn to her with an eye roll. “Fine. I’ll go. But just this once and I can’t stay out long.”

We’re nearing our annual senior conservatory showcase and, though I graduate soon, I refuse to allow my priorities to shift. It’s so easy to fall into the I’m almost done mindset, but to me, it’s always been so much more than that. There’s a whole new world outside of college and I’m so close to having to navigate through it on my own—find a grown-up job, get an apartment, pay bills. It’s terrifying. If I start slacking off now, it’s going to become entirely too easy to continue with that cycle.

“Hey, I’ll take what I can get.” She smiles a mischievous grin, flipping her honey-blonde hair over her shoulder. Felicity and I met the summer before our senior year of high school when we were both auditioning for the Charlotte School of Dance program. We each chose to major in different types of dance–me in ballet and her in hip-hop, with both of us minoring in contemporary. “Get ready. I’ll text you the address.” She jumps up from the bed with an added pep in her step and storms out, the door slamming obnoxiously loud behind her as she goes.

I untie the ribbon laces of my pointe shoes and slip them off, setting them neatly next to my barre. The room is small, as are most dorm rooms, but that didn’t stop my dad from surprising me with a collapsible wooden ballet barre last Christmas. It’s definitely come in handy because now, instead of staying up late and practicing in the reserved studios, I’m able to do it in my own space.

My phone rings and I pick it up, smiling. I know without looking that it’s my dad. He calls every day at the same time, like clockwork. “Hey, Daddy.”

“Hey, peanut,” I roll my eyes at the nickname–one I’ve told him repeatedly not to use. “How’s practice?”

“How do you know I’m practicing?” I question back, a smirk tugging on the corners of my lips, already knowing what his response will be.

“I know you, Charlie. You’re more like your mother every day. It was like pulling teeth to get her out of the studio, too.” I can hear the pain in his voice from missing her. It’s always been there for as long as I can remember. He once told me a long time ago that he’d rather be sad and talk about her, than be sad and not talk about her. Over the years, I think we’ve both needed it and it’s been really nice hearing stories about how wonderful and special she was.

“Okay, I might’ve been,” I giggle, “but now I’m getting ready to go to a party with Cici.”

I swear I can hear my dad tense up at my words. “Be careful, Charlie. Don’t take any drinks from anyone. Stay with your friend at all times. Don’t get into a stranger’s car. Keep your pepper spray on you and ready.”

I laugh at his warnings that I’ve heard time and time again, “I know, I know, Dad.”

“I know you do, sweetheart, but I’m not going to stop telling you.”

I want to tell him that I’m 21 and I’m not a little girl anymore. I can handle myself, but it probably wouldn’t make much difference. An overprotective dad isn’t likely to change. I’m his life and nothing I say could ever stop him from worrying. I won’t be out late, anyway. I’ll be fine.

“Well, I love you, Dad. Talk soon.”

“Talk to you tomorrow, peanut.”

“Okay. Bye.” I end the call and sit on my bed thinking about my dad, wishing he had the guts to put himself out there and find love again. He’s still young-ish and good-looking for a dad. I’m sure there are women who would love to date him. I laugh at the idea of my dad setting up an online dating profile as I start flipping through the outfits in my closet.

That’ll be the day–my old man on a dating app.

CHAPTER TWO

CHARLOTTE

THE PARTY IS in full swing by the time I arrive; a sea of people ebbing and flowing as if controlled by an invisible force. Several couples are gyrating provocatively to some pulsating techno-type music while others are playing tonsil hockey on some nearby dingy couches.

I’ve never considered myself a prude. I mean, I’ve done my fair share of college experimenting. Who hasn’t? But it’s never been in this type of setting—where others are obviously watching, doped up with ample amounts of drugs and alcohol.

“Hey, sexy.” A random guy rubs up against me, his hand gravitating to my ass as he pulls me toward him. I stumble at the abrupt violation, not knowing how to respond to this complete stranger touching me—one who, from the strong scent of alcohol on his breath, is severely intoxicated.

In an attempt to distance myself from him, I take a step backward, but he meets my movements, stepping forward while teasingly pulling me back. I stumble and fall into his chest as he vibrates with laughter.

“Don’t t-touch me,” I mumble, frantically pulling away from him, but his arms only grasp me tighter. “I said, don’t fucking touch me,” and, though my words come out sounding fierce, the glint in his eyes eager for a challenge sends a shooting spark of fear down my spine. He’s not willing to back down.

“Don’t be like that, baby.” The corners of his lips turn up smugly. “I’ll show you a good time.” One of his hands continues to grip my ass and the other begins to slip underneath my shirt, his fingers grazing my skin as he reaches up to toy with my bra clasp. I can feel my hands start to shake, but I remind myself to stay strong and force them to move seductively up his chest. With a deep breath, I push as hard as I’m able.

“Leave me the fuck alone,” I hiss.

I can feel eyes on us and I wait, expecting someone to care enough to come to my defense, but no one does. They only watch with curious eyes or go back to doing whatever they were doing, leaving me defenseless. For a brief second my thoughts flash to Cici. Where is she? For fuck’s sake. I glance around quickly, hoping to spot her in the crowd, but I don’t. My eyes quickly return to the guy who’s been harassing me. He stumbled pretty hard with my push, but is now standing fully upright.

His eyes squint into a glare as he points up and down my body. “Your ass and tits aren’t even worth it.” I hear him mumble “bitch” underneath his breath as he walks away to no doubt find a girl who will put out.

My heart feels as if it is going to burst out of my chest and fall to the ground with every breath I take. I stand there for a couple seconds willing my unshed tears to stay at bay before I allow my feet to guide me through the crowd in search of my friend.

Though I’m tempted to just leave and go back to my dorm, I stick it out. Felicity’s got to be somewhere. My eyes scan every person and room on the first floor of the frat house, but she’s nowhere in sight.

I climb the stairs, barely able to maneuver past the legs of couples sprawled out on the steps. One girl covers her mouth with her hand, turning as I rush past her. I don’t have to look back to know she’s puking. The gagging noises and the “Ew, gross,” from the guy she’s with are enough. I make it to the top of the stairs, glancing to the left and right, as if I’m getting ready to cross a road.

I open a random door and, spotting two girls and a guy half-naked on a dirty, wrinkled bed, I quickly cover my eyes and shut it again. I tap on the next door and slowly open it a crack. On the bed is a man on top of a girl. I start to close the door and give them their privacy when the girl’s hand falls off the side of the bed. My eyes are immediately drawn to her bracelet—the one I gave Felicity for her 21st birthday—two gold bangles fused together with an ‘F’.

“Felicity?” I shove the door wide-open. The agitated guy sits up enough to provide me a view of my very unconscious best friend, her hair draped across her face.

“Get out. We’re busy.”

“N-no.” I say, standing my ground. “Get off of her.”

I recognize the man immediately. I draw on all my strength to walk toward him, pushing away the fight or flight thoughts that are telling me to run. I can’t leave her behind, and I certainly can’t leave her with him.

The man turns back to her, his hands digging into her hips as he starts violently thrusting into her, ignoring my presence altogether.

“Hey,” I grab his shoulder. “I said to get the fuck off of my unconscious friend, you sick ass pervert.” His head whips around to meet mine, his eyes practically raging at my words. He pulls himself from her and begins to stand, towering inches over me as if he’s trying to intimidate me—his dick just hanging there unabashedly.

Fuck it.

I reach my hand up and start to spray. I continue spraying as the man falls to the ground clutching his eyes.

Thanks, Dad.

Years of his constant reminders to stay safe and keep my pepper spray in my hand when I’m feeling uncomfortable or threatened havefinally come in handy. Though the guy is doubled over, howling like a baby, I don’t stop. I start to kick, heels and all. I continue kicking as hard as I can, slowly nudging him toward the door. His dick remains out as he flings his body inch-by-inch dramatically with each connection of my stilettos.

Once he’s out in the hall, I slam the door and lock it. I rush to Felicity’s side and shake her, but she doesn’t move. Silent tears begin to stream down my cheeks as the reality of the situation hits me like a goddamn freight train. The moment I decided to leave the confines of my dorm room and step into this party, I felt unsafe. Targeted and victimized. And while those feelings are one-hundred percent valid, something more traumatizing took place—my best friend was raped.

By the visiting student choreographer. The severity isn’t lost on me, but I need help.

My hands are trembling as I begin picking up random clothing and moving things around the floor to look for Felicity’s purse and phone. I take out my phone and dial her number, hoping her ringer is on. In seconds, I hear the familiar doo-doo-doo-doo of the Kim Possible ringtone coming from beneath the bed.

I pick up her phone, using my forearm to wipe away the tears blurring my vision. I punch in her password and scroll through her contacts list. Not her parents. I take a deep breath and go for it, hitting the call button. As it’s ringing, I start to pace back and forth, mentally debating whether I chose the wrong person.

“Sis?”

“N-no,” I stutter. “I—I know we haven’t formally met but I’m Charlotte, Felicity’s best friend. I’m kind of freaking out and I didn’t know who else to call and I can’t get her to wake up and the guy is in the hallway and I’m scared he could come back and—”

“Charlotte, calm down,” he interrupts. “What do you mean she won’t wake up?”

“I don’t know if the guy drugged her or something, but I tried shaking her and she won’t wake up. I don’t know what to do.”

“Airdrop me your location. I’ll be right there.” I nod as if he can see me, even though I know he can’t. I sit down and take a deep breath.

“Take care of my sister.”

“Okay.”

Felicity’s twin brother hangs up and I brush more tears off my cheeks. I reach out and put two fingers against the side of her throat, like I’ve seen people do in movies. Though it’s faint, I can feel her pulse and see her chest rising and falling. I pull her dress down so she’s not exposed and put my hands over my face.

I’m never going to a college party ever again, I promise myself.

I don’t know how long I sit–just staring at her, continuously reaching out to make sure her breathing hasn’t stopped–whenbanging on the door breaks me from the cycle.

“Charlotte, it’s Maverick.” I rise to my feet and rush to the door. As soon as I swing it open, Maverick rushes past me and lifts Felicity into his arms. “Let’s go.”

“W-where?” I ask, but he doesn’t answer. I follow closely behind him, my eyes scanning the now-much more deserted house. He carries her down the stairs and out to his car, gently placing her in the backseat.

I don’t speak a word as I climb into his empty passenger seat, making a mental note to pick mine up in the morning. The JeepWranglershakes as Maverickclimbs into the driver’s side and slams the door, the noise causing me to jump ever so slightly.

“Are you okay?” He reaches out to cover my shaking hands. I nod in response, my eyes coming up to meet his. I will myself to look away, but it’s like a magnet is forcing the contact. His expression initiates a fluttering in the base of my stomach. He looks different from all the photos I’ve seen. More handsome, muscular, and more rough around the edges. Dayum.

Maverick quickly pulls his hand back and places the keys in the ignition. “Which building is her dorm in?”

“We can take her to mine. Her roommate will ask too many questions.”

“What about your roommate?”

“I don’t have one.”

That seems to be enough for him. He looks away from me, immediately maneuvering out onto the road toward campus. The man drives faster than he should, barely coming to a complete stop at stop signs before accelerating again. I look back at Felicity and the tightness in my chest returns, bringing with it a fresh layer of tears.

“It was most likely just a roofie. She’ll sleep it off.”

He parks in a parking spot near the building I point to. “What if it’s something else? What if she gets worse?” He turns in his seat to look at me, the nearby street light casting an angelic glow on his dirty-blonde hair.

“I’m a nurse in the Marine Corps.” I’ve always known he was in the military, but I wasn’t aware he was in the medical field. That’s…convenient. “I can take care of my sister. Don’t worry, Charlotte.”

“O-Okay,” I mutter, choosing to leave the questions for another day. “And you can call me, Charlie.”

After climbing out, he lifts Felicity back into his arms and carries her into my dorm building behind me. In a matter of minutes, we’re settled in my room and Maverick’s tucking her into bed. He says she’s doing well, but as I look at her still body, I feel only fear. I wouldn’t wish this experience on my worst enemy.

“You sleep next to your sister. I have an air mattress,” I say, sending a huge thanks to my dad for his constant visits requiring me to keep one. I reach up into my closet, standing on my tippy toes.

“Here, let me get that for you.” He brushes against me lightly as he reaches past me to grab the box. I can’t help the quiet gasp that escapes my lips at his touch, but to my dismay, he pulls away far too quickly. “I can sleep on this.”

“Please, no. I’d feel much better having you with her, since you’re the one with medical experience and all. I barely know how to use Band-Aids. I doubt I’d be much help.”

“Fair enough.” He raises his hands in mock surrender. “So you’re a dancer?” He nods in the direction of my barre and pointe shoes.

“I’m sure you already knew that.” I brush some hair behind my ears as I start pulling out the squished, folded-up mattress. “We might not have met before, but I have known your family for almost four years.”

“Right,” he says, awkwardly.

“It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Likewise.” He reaches out to shake my hand and I can’t help but giggle. He’s already proving to be more awkward than me. My hand slips into his and he shakes it, his blue eyes remaining locked on mine. “We should probably get to bed.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” I say, even though my instincts are telling me otherwise.

CHAPTER THREE

MAVERICK

CHARLOTTE IS different than I thought she’d be.

I’ve heard a lot about her over the years from my parents—who have not-so-subtly hinted at getting the two of us together for years now—and from my sister. But I’ve never been into the types of girls that my sister’s been friends with.

Charlotte is a bunhead—overly dedicated to dance. I know without having to get acquainted with her that she stays up late, six days a week practicing. She’s always cast as a principal for shows. She has aspirations to join a dance company post-graduation. But most of all, I know that my family loves her as if she’s their own.

When it really comes down to it, I know she’s a good person. I can tell that by how she stuck by my sister. How she came to her defense when the man was raping her. She could have easily left like most people these days would’ve done.

“W-What happened?” Felicity looks at Charlotte and then me, utter confusion laced on her delicate features. “What are you doing here, Mav?”

“I called him. What do you remember about the party?” My sister’s brows furrow at Charlotte’s question for a second, her head lowering in defeat. “I-I was afraid of that.”

“You were drugged,” I tell her, beating around the bush.

“By Vincent—”

Felicity holds up a hand and covers her eyes, stopping her friend from going on. She tucks her legs to her chest and buries her face, her body shaking with silent sobs.

“Cici?” Charlotte moves toward my sister and wraps her arms around her cocooned body.

“It really happened, didn’t it?” my sister asks, her voice barely above a whisper. With a little nod, the tears pour more rapidly.

“You should report him,” I say, in finality. There’s really no other choice. The man has to pay for his crimes.”

Charlotte looks at me with a glare. “Not now, Maverick.”

I am immediately taken aback by her words. “What do you mean not now? She has to file a police report. She needs a rape kit and to be tested for STD’s. This is serious shit, Charlotte.”

She stands, placing her hands on her hips. “No shit. I was sexually assaulted last night, too, so believe me when I say I understand the gravity of the situation. But right now, Cici is hurting. She’s hurting far more on an emotional level than she could ever feel physically. Let her hurt. Let her cry. Let her rise up like the badass phoenix she is, when she is physically and mentally able to do so. Do not push her before she is ready, so help me God.”

It’s obvious I’ve pushed a button, and I honestly don’t know how to react to the near-instant anger. She’s right in the regard that I’ve never been in this position and know absolutely nothing about what the two of them are going through, but medically, time is of the essence. The DNA will only remain so long.

“Think smart about this, sis,” I plead, but my sister only turns away and buries her head into the pillow sobbing uncontrollably. I go to her side and lean down, whispering just loud enough so she can hear. “I love you and I’m always on your side. I’ll give you time.”

I don’t look over at Charlotte as I angrily walk past her and out of the dorm. I think I need a moment.

CHAPTER FOUR

CHARLOTTE

I STAY CURLED up with my friend for a while while she cries, mumbling incoherent words. At times I cry right along with her because I feel things have changed. What was supposed to be an innocent college party during our last two weeks of school has become an event that will forever affect the way we see others. We will no longer see the world through rose-colored glasses, life now covered in an ugly shade of skepticism.

“How can I perform in the showcase now?” Felicity asks, her fingers toying with her hair. “How can I go to rehearsals and see him?”

I shake my head at her question, because when it comes down to it, I don’t know. I’m facing those same questions myself—I went head-to-head with the naked guy. I don’t think I can be nice.

“You know, you didn’t need to be so aggressive with my brother,” she says, changing the subject. With the sad tone in her voice, I turn to her. “He was just trying to help. He’s always been the levelheaded one in the family, you know.”

“So I’ve heard… but you were raped, Cici, and any normal person is going to take time to come to terms with that and grieve.”

“I—I know,” she says with a sigh. “But Maverick is also right, too. Vincent did force himself on me and I do have to see a doctor.”

“I’ll take you—”

“No.” She cuts me off. “You have rehearsal today. Mav can take me. I’ll just have him wait in the lobby.”

“This is more important than the showcase.” I’m surprised that she doesn’t want me there. If it were me, I’d need her by my side to get through it.

“I love you, Char, but dance is your dream. There will be scouts there and—” She chuckles. “—you kind of need all the practice you can get.”

“Rude.” I chuckle, tapping her with my elbow.

“I only speak the truth.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mm-hmm. That’s why I know you like my brother.” She winks. “He’s a handsome, strong Marine who’s fought for his country. What more could you want?”

I scoff at her words.

“Nah. I mean, he’s sexy as fuck, but that air of authority?”

“That’s his way of showing he cares, Char. The military changed and hardened him in a lot of ways. He can’t show feelings or emotion out there because it poses a safety risk. You didn’t get a chance to know him before he enlisted, but deep down, he’s a softie. A decent, stand-up guy that’d treat you right.”

Wow, she’s trying extremely hard to sell me on him.

“Give him a chance. He might surprise you.”

“I guess we’ll see.”

Our heads turn at the light rap on the door. Maverick cracks it open and peeks his head in. With one glance at us, he takes a deep breath and pushes it all the way open to make way for his broad, muscular frame. “I brought coffee and donuts.” He holds them up with a smile.

“Oh, how kind of you, Maverick. Always thinking of the ladies,” Felicity says with a smug smile in my direction. Maverick looks back and forth between us quizzically and shakes his head, as if he’d rather not know.

I stand up and go to him, taking one of the coffees from his hand. “Thank you for this.” Maybe it’s because of my bff’s not-so-eloquent nudge, but I reach out with my free hand brushing some of the longer hair on the top of his head out of his face. He looks at me intently, leaving me breathless as if he’d just thrown me up against a wall and devoured every inch of me.

“What’s the consensus? Are we reporting this guy?”

“No.” My friend responds firmly. I’m just as shocked as her brother, but I choose to remain quiet and take a sip. “But you will be taking me to Planned Parenthood today.”

“Okay,” he says, not missing a beat. “Why aren’t we reporting him?”

Felicity rubs her hands together with a mischievous, Cheshire Cat grin. “Because we’re getting even instead. He took something from me that he had no right to take. I want my payback.”

Maverick turns to me. “Did you put her up to this?” I shake my head at his question, but it’s obvious by his hardened demeanor that he doesn’t believe me. “For fucks sake, Charlotte. You’re supposed to be her best friend.”

“I am.” I’m definitely irritated at his mere allegation that I’m forcing my friend into some sort of scheme. “But I’m not the person behind this idea. I don’t deserve to be accused of something I didn’t do.” I look past him to my best friend. “If you need anything, you know where I’ll be. Lock up as you leave.” I pick up my bag and walk out.

It might be my room but if I don’t get out of here, I may end up smacking a Marine. That man is one helluva rollercoaster ride.

CHAPTER FIVE

MAVERICK

“YOU WERE WRONG, YOU KNOW.” She sways in her white plastic seat waiting for her name to be called, “Charlie didn’t talk me into this.”

“She didn’t talk you out of it, either.”

“Dude, I love you. But shut the fuck up. She didn’t know what I was planning or she would have tried to talk me out of it. She’s a lot more focused on her end game and always thinks things through—you two are a lot alike in that regard. You don’t know her. So stop acting like you do.”

“I know her type.”

“Maybe so, but did you know her mom passed away from cancer when she was a baby? She was a dancer and it’s the biggest reason that Charlie is one as well. It’s always been her dream to follow in her mothers footsteps.”

My eyes soften. Of course I didn’t know any of that. From the moment I found out Charlotte was a dancer, I knew I wanted nothing to do with her. It didn’t matter how much my family raved about her—I had to protect myself. First-hand experience has shown me how vicious and cutthroat dancers are.

“For the past four years while you’ve been deployed off and on, she’s been there. She’s listened to me cry about your deployments. She’s helped me study when there was a class I was struggling with. She sat by Dad’s side while he recovered from getting those two stents placed in his heart. Charlie is an amazing person and you’re not giving her enough of a chance. You’ve written her off like all those superficial bunheads that I danced with back home. She’s not Cassandra.”

“Don’t bring her into this.” I growl.

“How can I not? You can’t seriously tell me that woman hasn’t shaped your perception of ballerinas in general. Charlie isn’t your ex-girlfriend. She’s not the person who cheated on you after high school graduation just so that she could get a spot at Juilliard.”

“It’s not about Cassandra.” I can see the smug smile on my sister’s face, as if she’s figured me out. “I promised myself I’d never like another dancer after that, and I certainly would never date one.”

“So you like her, huh?” She waggles her eyebrows, “I was just talking about being nice to her and, you know, maybe apologizing for being a complete dickhead. But this is much better.” Her smile widens for a split second but immediately falls when her name is called.

“Felicity Daniels.”

“You got this, sis.” I pat her on the shoulder as she stands, taking a deep breath. The nurse holds a clipboard tightly to her chest as she stands holding a door open for my sister to walk through. The fact that Felicity’s nervous is obvious, but everything is going to be okay–I hope.

Without her sitting beside me, my thoughts drift to a certain blue-eyed brunette. I don’t know what to think about Charlie. Whether it’s because I’m hard-headed or jaded, the mere fact that the people I love the most, love her, does make me question my thinking. Was I disrespectful to her? I was. Was I upset about everything that has happened? Sure, but it’s not an excuse for my behavior.

I can’t gauge how long I’m sitting here before my sister walks out, snapping me directly from my thoughts. It’s clear she’s been crying by the puffiness of her eyes. Despite that, her shoulders are pushed back and her head is held high. The amount of strength my twin has will forever amaze me. She’s been through a lot and hasn’t allowed it to break her.

“What’d they do?”

“The usual, I guess. They examined me, gave me the morning after pill, tested me for STDs, and then collected some evidence in case I decide to press charges later.”

“I still think you should.” I say.

“I know you do, but with the world we live in, Mav, I know no good will come from it. Women are vilified and persecuted while the male counterparts get a slap on the wrist, if that.” She gulps. “I don’t want to go through that. I just can’t.”

“So you’re gonna let him get away with this?”

“Not a fat chance in hell.” She winks at me, and I groan. I have no idea what’s up her sleeve, but I’m scared.

CHAPTER SIX

CHARLOTTE

MY HEART IS POURING out through my movements, my arms and legs extended with perfect precision. I spin, building up my momentum to go into a barreled calypso, the beginning of the end of my routine.

My hair whips around me as I tighten my center, going into a high chaîné followed by a low chaîné. My right leg brushes up while my left leg goes into attitude derrière. I tuck my body and roll, accentuating every movement and portraying the emotions vividly as if I’m a book and the audience is reading my thoughts and feelings through my expressions and movements. I don’t fully come upright; instead, I swing out my left leg and arch my back with one arm holding my weight as my other curves up above my head.

I see you in my dreams.

In all I could hope to be.

In the love you poured into me.

Everything I am is because of you, and I just need you to know, wherever you are, I will always love you.

The song lyrics play, and I can’t help but picture my father and my mother. I never had the chance to know her, but despite that, who I am is because of her and the sacrifice she made to bring me into the world when she so desperately could have chosen to save herself, instead.

As the lyrics I love you, forever fade off into the background, I fall into my ending pose, my right leg bent beneath me while my left one extends in front of me, my arms and body curved over and reaching toward my toes, like the petals of a flower that have yet to open.

Clapping follows and my head snaps up, my eyes landing on my best friend and her infuriating, gorgeous Marine brother who are sitting in the back of the auditorium.

“This is supposed to be a closed practice.” I smirk as I push myself up from the floor. They stand from their seats and walk down the aisle toward me. I pick up my water bottle and take a couple swigs. I’m acutely aware of the sweat dribbling down my brow. Not cute. I tuck some stray pieces of hair behind my ears and use my hand to smooth the frizzies.

“Girl, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” Felicity says.

“It’s not you I was talking about.” My eyes meet Maverick’s for a moment. Though his face is expressionless, the look in his eyes scares me. The intensity pulls me in despite all my resisting.

“If I have to tell you two to play nice one more time, so help me God, I will bang your heads together.”

“Wow. You really sounded like Mom right there.” Maverick chuckles and I start to laugh.

“He’s right, you really just did.”

Felicity gasps, smacking him lightly on the arm. “You take that back right now.” I try not to follow her movements, but my eyes are drawn to her brother’s strong, muscular biceps straining against the shirt. He starts to laugh this deep timbre that immediately sends a wave of heat to my lower stomach. I have to squeeze my thighs together and look away, but as I do, his eyes find mine.

Dayum. He saw.

“For what it’s worth, Charlotte—” Maverick begins, but I cut him off.

“—I told you to call me Charlie.”

“Okay, Charlie.” I try not to let on how sexy my name sounds rolling off his tongue, my internally, I’m swooning. “For what it’s worth, I think you dance beautifully.”

“And he doesn’t usually compliment dancers, so take it as a win, girl.” I look at Felicity and practically roll my eyes so hard I can see my brain.

“Well, thank you, Maverick. That’s nice of you to say.”

“My pleasure.”

“Okay, do you have to talk so formally, bro?” Felicity throws her hands up in the air and walks back toward the double doors. “I’ll see you back at the room. Have fun…talking.” She roars with laughter. Her meddling is ridiculous.

Once she’s out of earshot, he finally speaks. “I just wanted to apologize for how I treated you. It was uncalled for and I guess I took my frustration with this entire situation out on you.”

“You guess?”

“I mean, I know I did.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m angry. I was expecting there to be a different course of action. I desperately want that guy to pay for what he did to her. I was hoping she would be realistic about things, but I can see now that I was wrong.”

“I didn’t expect this either, if I’m being honest. Though, after knowing her four years, I shouldn’t be surprised she’d want revenge.” I take a breath, my eyes meeting his. “I didn’t put her up to anything–I’m not like that.”

“I’m gathering that.” He takes a step toward me, his fingers reaching out to intertwine with mine. “I’m truly sorry, Charlie.” His touch and my name on his lips is enough to sway me to throw all caution to the wind.

Fuck it.

I drop my water bottle, bringing my free hand up to the nape of his neck, and close the space between us. My lips meet his for a brief second, and it’s as if everything feels–right. He kisses me back and just as I’m about to deepen it further, he tenses and pulls away completely.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” I blush and look to the ground, releasing his hand and stepping back. I can’t help but feel so stupid for throwing myself at him.

He sighs and places his finger beneath my chin, bringing my eyes back to his. “I-I just wasn’t expecting that.”

“Yeah, me either.”

His fingers intertwine with mine again, but neither one of us makes an advance.

“You know, Mav,” I say, needing to change the subject, “if I was in her shoes, I’d file a police report on the guy, but we can’t force her to do something she doesn’t want to do,.”

“No, I suppose not. He’s gonna get away with what he did to her, though.”

“He might, but we have to follow her lead. This is her story, her experience, her path. I’m more concerned about how she’s going to mentally get through this. It could leave her with lingering mental health issues. Insecurities. PTSD. Mood swings, I don’t know what else.”

“I didn’t think about that.”

“I know you didn’t.” I say, “but she’ll get through it, with us by her side.”

“Damn straight.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHARLOTTE

AS FELICITY STANDS and gets ready to rehearse her routine in front of the entire class, a dark presence walks in. Maybe I’m being dramatic, but it almost feels as if all the air has been sucked from the room. The other students don’t seem to notice the tension, but it’s so thick, it’s almost suffocating me.

“In position, Ms. Daniels.” Vincent, the student choreographer from the showcase, barks. The very same man who had drugged and raped her. Felicity subtly stiffens, but I don’t think anyone but me notices. She does as he tells her to, but I’m already mentally preparing to intervene.

Vincent glances across the room at the other students, his eyes lingering on mine for a split second. He subtly smirks and turns back to my friend who’s standing center stage in her starting pose.

“Proceed.”

The music begins to play and she rises en pointe, one of her legs rising upward, her arms raised above her head in an oval shape. Before she’s even able to bring her leg down, the music stops.

“Your foot was sickled. Start again.”

Though I am by no means a pro, I do know for a fact that she looked perfect. Felicity’s biggest flex is she’s always technically perfect. She puts most of us to shame in that area. She gets back into position. The music starts again, but this time before she even has a chance to get her leg fully up in the air, Vincent yells out again.

“Where the hell is the height?”

“I-I didn’t even get a chance to get it up—”

“I don’t care for excuses, Ms. Daniels. Again.”

My blood boils as he continues to start and stop the music, nitpicking over non-existent flaws. The fourth time he stops it, he slams his fist down on the armrest of the chair, rising to his feet. I can feel the shock from my fellow classmates as he walks up the stage stairs. No one says anything, the room so silent a pin drop would seem loud. He walks up to her, hissing at her to start again.

Felicity grimaces as she rises up en pointe. Vincent reaches down and grabs her leg, forcing it up as high as it can go. His hand remains on the inside of her leg, inches from her bikini line.

“This, Ms. Daniels, is how you properly position yourself in order to gain enough momentum to come down and progress into the next step.” He leans in and whispers something in her ear, and I can see her eyes gloss over.

“Enough, Vincent.” I rise to my feet, others gasping at the mere fact that I had the nerve to speak out. Joke’s on them. “You’ve made your point. What do you think you’re gonna gain from making an example out of her? That you’re some big shot man? Give us a break.”

Felicity bites her lip to keep from laughing.

“Ms. Cahill, I suggest you watch your tone.” His words, though a warning, do nothing to dissuade me.

“I mean, I’m just saying. You’re here teaching a bunch of nobody college students. I feel that speaks volumes about you and your career. Want to make a fool of someone, just look in the mirror.” I place my hands on my cocked hips.

A couple girls snicker, while a few others are still struggling to pick their jaws off the floor. Can’t say I blame them. Usually I’m the obedient one, but I can’t and won’t stand by while a rapist makes a fool of his victim—my friend at that.

“Out of my class.”

“Oh, how kind of you, letting me out of class ten minutes early.” I nod my head in the direction of the exit. “Coming, Cici?”

“Like you have to fucking ask.” She turns her head to Vincent, his hand still on her. “I suggest you remove your hand from me before I report you to the Title IX office.” His face flushes momentarily. I watch my best friend lean in and whisper something, before practically skipping across the stage, down the steps, and toward me.

“See you at the showcase, Mr. Shaw,” she shouts back. I lean down and pick up my bag, maneuvering past the other girls to leave. Glancing up at him one last time, it’s clear we’ve rattled him.

“Nice going,” I say to her, the two of us linking elbows.

“You too.”

“What’d you whisper to him?”

She giggles at my question. “How I’ve never seen a micropenis before and how he should maybe invest in a magnifying glass. How embarrassing for him.”

I cover my eyes with my free hand and laugh so hard, I have to clutch my side to ease the ache. “Genius.”

“It was him, wasn’t it?”

I jump at the deep voice, dripping with anger. I don’t know why I didn’t think about where he was during our class. His fists clench and unclench at his side, and I can tell he’s trying hard to stay in control.

“He’s not even worth it, Maverick,” Felicity tells him. “Char had my back.”

Maverick’s eyes soften and he mouths a thank you to me. I shrug lightly with a smile. It was the right thing to do; no thanks needed.

As the class pours from the auditorium, I can see Maverick’s eyes searching through the crowd of women for the guy.

“He touched you again.” He looks to Felicity with pained eyes. It’s obvious how it’s taking everything within him to forcibly remain calm.“Who the fuck does he think he is?”

“A piece of shit.” I say, knowing I’m probably only adding fuel to the fire. But I can’t say I blame him, I’m pissed, too.

Everything goes by in a blur. I see fists flying before my eyes can even register what is happening. Vincent walks behind us and before anything can be said, a fist flies past me and hits him directly on the side of his face. He falls to the ground, clutching his cheek and moaning.

“You want to be a fucking man? Stand the fuck up and be a man!” Maverick roars.

I’m too shocked to say anything, which is probably a smart choice on my part. Luckily for us, all the other students have piled out of the building, so there aren’t any witnesses.

“I said, stand the fuck up, pussy.”

Vincent pushes himself up from the ground, glances at Maverick’s sheer size, and then bolts. I rub my eyes thinking maybe I’ve just imagined it, but by Cici’s cackling, I know I haven’t.

“Wow, he really was a pussy,” I mutter and Maverick laughs, droplets of blood beading on his knuckles. “C’mon, let’s go get that cleaned up.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

MAVERICK

IT’S JUST Charlotte and me.

I’ve purposely tried to avoid taking an interest in her, but it didn’t work in my favor. She’s real. She’s kind. It’s impossible to not like her. I’m sitting on the bathroom counter watching her lean over the sink, running her beige-colored nails underneath the water until it gets warm enough. Her chocolate-colored hair drapes down her shoulders, and while she’s not looking, I use the moment to see her—maybe for the first time ever.

What she lacks in height, she makes up for in personality. She has a thin, angular face with big, bright eyes, perfectly plump lips that are desperately begging to be ravished, and the cutest button nose. I try to keep my eyes on her face, but fail desperately as they travel down her fit, perfectly-toned body.

“U-hm.” She clears her throat, snapping my attention back to her, “I saw that.”

“Sorry.” I chuckle, unashamed. “I wanted to tell you thank you again, for everything.” I’m not used to saying those words, but I couldn’t owe her enough thanks for what she’s done. “For protecting Felicity—at the party and in class.”

“I would do anything for her.” Neither one of us makes a move to break the gaze and it’s almost become a competition to see who’ll break first. I reach out to her and cup her cheek, my thumb grazing against her soft skin. She nuzzles into my hand, her body instinctively moving in-between my knees.

I lean down, claiming her lips with my own. The kiss starts off innocently enough but quickly intensifies. Her tongue slips into my mouth and rhythmically dances with my own, her nails lightly running through the buzzed hair on the back of my neck. My free hand pulls her tightly against my chest, eliminating any free space.

Charlie awakens something in me I buried long ago and was so sure would never come to the surface again. The want to be with someone. She has a smart mouth and I can never predict what will come from it and, though it might piss me off–a lot–she’s not one to back down from a fight. She’s passionate about dance–which is something I was sure I could never look past–and she’s an amazing friend and protector to my sister.

How can this be wrong?

“I thought you said we probably shouldn’t do this.” She pulls away, her cheeks flushed and her lips red and swollen.

“Fuck it. I give up resisting you,” I say with a smirk and she laughs.

“What would Cici think?”

“She’d love it. She and my family have been hinting at us getting together for a while now.”

“Really?” I nod my head at her question. “I’m not surprised, actually. Last time I got lunch with your mom, she kept talking about how excited she was that you’d be back soon and how it’ll be nice to have a strong young man back home.”

“There aren’t any coincidences with that woman.”

Charlie pulls away, and I immediately have the urge to pull her back into my arms. Instead, I let her take my hand and run my bloody knuckles beneath the now-hot water. It stings a little, but it’s nothing compared to some of the pain I’ve experienced while deployed.

“You nervous for the showcase?”

She shakes her head. “But I’m beyond ready for Felicity’s scheme, still not sure how she’ll pull it off. But if she can, it’s gonna be the best part of the show.”

“I’m glad I’m going to be surprised.” I wink at her. She pretends to shoot me one back—but it’s clear winking is not one of her many talents.

Damn, she’s cute.

“Okay, you’re all good.” She places a couple of pink Band-Aids on my knuckles and steps back with a smile, admiring her handiwork. “I may not be a military nurse, but I’d say it’s pretty damn good.”

I’d never have the nerve to tell her otherwise.

CHAPTER NINE

CHARLOTTE

I OPTED NOT to be involved in Felicity’s plan. Not because I don’t trust her. It’s more due to the fact that this showcase is going to ultimately affect the rest of my life. I need to focus, stay in the zone. Visualize my routine from start to finish. Mentally block out the recent events—and a very special, hot Marine—and keep my mind on what I have to do. I can’t worry about my family in the audience or the dance company scouts who are going to judge my every move on-stage.

I have to concentrate on me—only on me.

I’ll sit in the audience and watch Felicity’s routine afterwards, but right now, I’m waiting in the wings to go on. My nerves are making themselves known, and I’m hard at work keeping them at bay.

I can do this.

Once the curtains are closed, I take position front and center. As the ballad begins, they open.

I feel my body bowing down to the will of my heart. Every movement I make is precise, but I allow myself to live out the music, my body swaying and weaving, each step molding into the next in one fluid movement. My eyes well with tears as I think about her—my mother, the woman I never had the opportunity to know, but love with every fiber of my heart.

I see you in my dreams. In all I hope to be.

I think about the dancer she was, of the videos I’ve seen where she lives her life through her dancing. She was beautiful and graceful. She was inspiring. I may have started dancing for her, but along the way, it became my dream, too, and I couldn’t be more grateful for that legacy she passed onto me.

I progress into the barreled calypso and before I even have time to blink, the dance is over and the crowd erupts into cheers and applause. I wipe a fallen tear from my cheek and bow, rushing backstage. I waste no time in exiting from the side stage door and sneaking out into an empty seat in the audience.

It’s time—for justice to be served.

The curtains open and standing there with a mic in her hand is Cici.

“This is for all the girls who’ve been sexually assaulted or raped by their visiting student choreographer. Stand up, Vincent Shaw, and show the world what a piece of shit you really are.”

He does stand, but instead of turning toward the crowd, he rushes out of the room. I know that this will become a massive thing later—her calling him out by name in front of a very-full audience, but you know what?

Good for her.

“This dance is for anyone who has been violated in the worst of ways. For those who lie awake at night with flashbacks of what happened to them—bits and pieces of a broken memory. To those who seek help, but are turned away or treated poorly while the attacker gets not one single repercussion. To those people, you are seen and we’re united.”

She drops the microphone off the front of the stage. It’s loud, the bounce echoing and drawing the audience in even further as the music begins. She may have a flare for the dramatics but it works.

We weren’t always broken and afraid of the world around us.

Felicity takes a couple steps back, rising en pointe. Her right leg kicks out, raising toward the ceiling. She balances before touching back down.

We used to be happy, bubbly, and bright, looking forward to life.

Another girl enters. She walks in with her shoulders held high, jumping into a grand jeté. Pausing just inches behind Felicity.

Until all we knew was stripped from us.

Stolen without a care.

Without a second thought of who it would hurt.

A third girl enters from the opposite side of the stage, immediately propelling herself into a firebird leap, landing on the opposite side of the formation.

The three women weave a dynamic story—one of heartache, pain, and betrayal. It tells the story of three complete strangers who were hurt and ultimately banded together in a time of need to seek revenge.

Familiar.

As Felicity flows into a barreled calypso, she curls up on the ground on the corner of the stage, her arms and legs curving inwards to protect herself from what she’d experienced. It’s clear that the girl has been beaten down and shattered, her black dress scattered around her broken body.

The second dancer comes up to her and reaches out her hand, pulling her up from the ground and bringing her into a safe space with the third girl. The two twirl around Felicity before parting, and with it, shedding off the black dress that symbolizes the harshness of the past and bringing her into the light to revel in the truth—her truth. Felicity looks absolutely stunning in a white beaded dress, a flower crown adorning her head. Together, the three dance in complete unison, twirling, leaping, and flowing. It’s almost hard to tell where one person ends and the next begins.

We don’t have to be broken anymore.

Together we stand.

I brush away tears that flow down my cheeks as the girls come to a complete stop and the song ends.

No one makes a move to stand. Or clap. We’re all shocked. Amazed. And overall in awe of the magic we’ve just witnessed.

No one talks about the sheer amount of strength that’s needed to stand up for what you believe in. To say enough is fucking enough. To power through all those feelings of doubt and the massive number of insecurities that come from vividly displaying your experiences on a silver platter, opening yourself up to judgment and critique.

To lay yourself bare and naked for all to see.

“Woooo, Felicity!” I shout, cupping my hands around my mouth. When others join in and the room erupts, I feel the need to step away from the audience and seek cover.

As I go through the door leading backstage, I’m immediately greeted by Maverick.

“Hey, Beautiful.” He smiles the most gorgeous smile I’ve ever seen from him, and I can’t help the heat that rises to my cheeks at his words. It’s the first time he’s called me that. “You killed it.”

“T-Thank you.” I barely get the words out before his arms tightly circle my waist and his lips smash against mine. My hands clasp behind his neck, pulling his head toward me, deepening our kiss. Just as his hands are snaking through my hair and I’m getting ready to let his tongue meet mine, I’m instantly brought back to the present by a loud throat clearing.

I break our kiss and turn, my eyes immediately locking with Felicity’s. My face heats and I can’t help but bury my head in his chest for a few moments while he rumbles with laughter.

“For what it’s worth, I’m not ashamed.”

I look up at him and smack him lightly on the chest. “Hey.”

“What?” he asks, feigning confusion, his lips tugging into a smirk. “One sec.” He pulls back and takes a few steps, picking up two bouquets of roses set on a nearby table. “For you two.” He hands one to me and one to his sister.

“Great job, sis. I was blown away.”

“Thank you. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately and it wasn’t until I was doing research and talking to some classmates that I realized my experience with Vincent was not an isolated incident. There are several girls who’ve had encounters with him—some worse than others—and I felt as if I needed to be their voice. Some of them have reported him to Title IX, others haven’t, but when it comes down to it, he’s never been held accountable for what he’s done. He deserves to be.”

“I agree,” Maverick and I say in unison.

“For transparency, here’s where I stand. I need time. Time to heal and come to terms with what’s been taken from me. To figure out how I feel about what happened and how I feel about myself. I need my body to be my own again and that’s going to take time—but since you two are the most important people to me, I feel I should tell you that I did go ahead and file a police report. Whether something comes of it remains to be seen, but at least I can say I tried.”

“I’m proud of you.” I give her a side hug, tears welling in my eyes.

“I’m proud of me, too.” She chuckles. “And I think you two make an adorable couple, but next time you’re planning to make out, give me a heads up so I can leave the room.”

“Sis?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to make out with my girlfriend now.”

“Say less.” Felicity throws her hands up in the air as Maverick pulls me back to him.

“Girlfriend, huh?”

“It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?” he asks with a wink and I nod, claiming his lips with my own. I can certainly get used to it.

EPILOGUE

CHARLOTTE

Six Months Later

“SWEETHEART, I’M HOME!” I let out a nervous breath as I hear our apartment door close and lock behind him. I’m acutely aware of my hearing as I listen for anything to give away Maverick’s precise location. “Charlie?”

“Back here!” I shout, my stomach full of nerves in anticipation.

Moving in together was a massive step. My father wasn’t totally down for it, and might have pitched a little hissy fit, but he’s finally come around to the idea. Even going so far as to install additional locks on my bedroom door—purposely blind to the fact that the two of us share a bedroom, having turned the spare into a guest room.

Despite that, we’ve chosen to take it slow as a couple. It took one night of the two of us getting ready to take the next step to trigger a panic attack. One minute we’re making out and he’s getting ready to unclip my bra, the next I’m sobbing and hyperventilating. Maverick held me until I calmed down and promised me he’d never force me into anything I wasn’t ready for. And he hasn’t.

But now… I can’t take it anymore. I want to be with the man I love in every way humanly possible. I’m done waiting.

Maverick steps into the doorway, his jaw immediately falling to the floor as he sees me laying across our bed in lingerie and fuck-me heels. “Babe?”

“I’m–I’m ready, Mav. I need you.” My words come out seductively. He walks toward me pulling his shirt off. I sit up on the end of the bed and reach out, unclasping his belt buckle, his pants falling and pooling at his ankles.

“Are you sure?”

“More than I’ve ever been sure about anything in my life.” I bite my lip, sliding his boxers down, his cock springing free. I waste no time in pulling him down on top of me as his lips claim my own.

He pulls back, searching my eyes as he reaches behind me to unclasp my see-through lace bra. “Charlie, please sweetheart, tell me to stop if you need me too.” I can tell he’s scared, I am too.

“I love you, Mav. You won’t hurt me.” He nods and takes a deep breath before undoingthe clasp and peppering soft, delicate kisses down my neck and chest. He doesn’t stop there and I writhe against his lips, begging and pleading for more.

And fuck, does my man deliver.

The End

Author’s note:

With life comes turning points—moments that make you question your life and your experiences. But it’s those tough times that make us truly appreciate the great ones.

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CAMPUS PLAYER

BONUS EPILOGUE

JENNIFER SUCEVIC

ROWAN

Three and a half years later

I SHOVE the key in the lock and throw open the door to our condo. The high-rise is located across the street from Lake Michigan and has a million-dollar view. There’s something about the vast stretch of deep blue water that never fails to soothe the soul.

As soon as the heavy door closes, I call out, “Babe?”

My voice echoes throughout the cavernous 3000-square-foot condo.

I pause for a moment or two, ears perked for a response.

When the place remains quiet, disappointment crashes through me. I’ve had my fiancée on my mind all day, and I’m itching to get my hands on her.

I’ve been obsessed with that girl since her father recruited me for the Western Wildcats football team the summer before freshman year of high school. One look at the gorgeous soccer player and it was game over. She was a constant presence in my head until we met up on campus.

For me, there was never anyone else.

Was she surprised to discover our senior year of college that I was still a virgin?

More like stunned.

Especially since I had a reputation for being a major player. I could have screwed around with plenty of girls, but what was the point?

If I couldn’t have Demi, I didn’t want anyone else.

Here’s a bit of irony—the gossip surrounding me is one of the reasons she always steered clear. Convincing her to give me the time of day wasn’t easy. But once I did, there was no looking back.

I drop my bag in the entryway before strolling toward the main living area. There’s a spacious kitchen to the left. It’s all sleek stainless steel, a sea of white marble, and high-end white cabinetry, along with an ocean of hardwood that runs throughout the place. It’s a chef’s dream. In the off season, I like to dabble with recipes. I’ve become famous for my beef stroganoff. All right…maybe not famous, but it’s damn good.

Demi always appreciates coming home to a dinner that’s ready and waiting. And I thoroughly enjoy how she shows her gratitude.

One peek into the kitchen reveals that it’s empty.

No Demi in sight.

Hmmm.

I hate not knowing where my girl is.

I’m just about to whip out my phone when I see her sitting at the table on the balcony. My feet falter as I’m struck by a tidal wave of love. No matter how much I steel myself, my first glimpse is always like a gut punch that knocks me on my ass.

She’s wearing little black shorts and a pale pink tank top that accentuates her sun-kissed skin. My gaze drops to the curve of her breasts. My guess is that she’s not wearing a bra. It’s usually the first thing that comes off after she walks through the door.

And hey, you won’t hear any complaints about it from me.

Her knees are tucked against her chest and her chin rests on them. From her huddled position, it would appear her attention is riveted on the whitecapped waves that roll toward the shoreline. Aviators sit perched on the bridge of her nose, and the long mass of her hair is pulled up into a messy bun at the top of her head.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look more beautiful.

Demi glammed up in fancy clothes and high heels is a sight to behold, but this is when I like her best. Simple. Casual. Relaxed.

Even though we’ve been together for more than three years, there are times when I wonder if I’ll ever be able to get enough of her. The more I have, the more I want. She’s like an addiction pumping wildly through my blood, and I can’t see that ever changing.

Before I realize it, I’m on the move again, striding across the living room and pushing out through the glass door onto the balcony. Her head turns just enough for our gazes to collide. Electricity zips through my veins as I swallow up the distance and slide my hand around the nape of her neck, cradling the back of her skull in my palm before tilting her head so that my lips can crash onto hers.

“Mmm, you taste good,” I growl.

Her lips twitch against mine. “So do you.”

The second she opens, my tongue slips inside her mouth to tangle with hers. It’s so tempting to wrap my arms around her and cart her off to the bedroom. Instead, I tear myself away and drop onto the chair parked on the other side of the table.

My gaze falls to her lips, which are now swollen from my kisses. I fucking love marking her as my own.

Does that make me a bit of a caveman?

Probably, but I don’t give a damn.

I want everyone to know who this girl belongs to.

When her tongue darts out to moisten her lips, another growl rumbles up from deep in my chest.

“I’m about two seconds away from throwing you over my shoulder and having my wicked way with you.”

A slow smile spreads across her face as she arches a dark brow. “Is someone stopping you?”

The way her nipples tighten, poking through the thin fabric of the tank top, is all it takes for arousal to burst to life inside me and my dick to stir in my athletic shorts.

“Goddamn, I love when you don’t wear a bra.”

“I know.” A smirk settles across her face.

When she pulls off her sunglasses and lifts the bottle of water to her lips, I say, “I’m surprised you’re not sitting out here with a glass of wine. Seems like the perfect evening for it.”

Demi’s never been much of a drinker. But now that she’s no longer playing soccer, she likes to sit on the balcony at the end of the day with a glass and enjoy the setting sun.

Something flickers in her dark gaze. It’s there and gone before I can decipher exactly what it means.

The question tumbles out of my mouth before I can stop it. “What? Are you pregnant?”

If I thought she’d burst out laughing at the joke, that’s not what happens.

Her eyes widen as her body stills. It’s as if she’s become frozen in place.

I blink, thrown off by her strange reaction, before straightening on my chair like someone just rammed a two-by-four up my ass.

“Demi?” My voice comes out sounding as if I’m being strangled from the inside out. “Are you pregnant?”

It’s almost a shock when she presses her lips together and jerks her head into a tight nod.

My heart skips a painful beat as I whisper, “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. I took two tests just to be sure.”

“When?”

“After I got home from school this afternoon. I missed my period last week, so I stopped by the pharmacy.”

Holy shit.

We’ve spent hours talking about what our future looks like and when we’ll start a family. It’s always been a distant idea sometime down the road. Now that we’re finally living in the same city, we wanted to take a little time and enjoy being together, along with planning our wedding.

“Are you mad?”

Mad?

I shake my head as a huge smile breaks out across my face. “Why would you even think that?” Before she can answer, I swiftly rise to my feet and close the distance between us before wrapping my arms around her body and hauling her to me. Our faces are so close that I can feel the warmth of her breath drifting across my lips.

“Because we had a plan. And that included me finishing graduate school and getting a job while you focused on the NFL.”

“I don’t give a shit about our plan. All I care about is you. And the fact that you’re going to have my baby.”

Relief weaves its way through her voice. “Okay…good. I was kind of worried.”

I press a reassuring kiss against her lips. “There was never any reason for you to be concerned. This is the best news you could have given me. I hope you know I’m over the fucking moon about it.”

Her shoulders loosen as a tentative smile breaks out across her face. “Me too.”

“Babe, you should have called if you had any doubts. I would have told you right away how amazing it is.”

She lays her head against my chest. “Deep down, I knew you would be thrilled. It’s like I said, I started thinking about all our plans and how they’ll change.”

“You’re right, they will. But you know what? I’m looking forward to it.”

“Really?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” I pause. “I didn’t realize you’d stopped taking the pill.”

Demi’s been using the contraceptive since college. We had a pregnancy scare a couple years ago when she had to take antibiotics, but other than that, we’ve never had to worry.

“That’s the thing. I didn’t.”

“Oh. Wow. I thought the pill was foolproof.”

She shakes her head. “So did I. But it’s only ninety-nine percent effective and mishaps can still occur.”

“I guess we’re lucky this happened now and not when we were in college.”

She sucks in a deep breath before gradually releasing it back into the atmosphere. “I wouldn’t have been ready at twenty-two to be a mom. I still had a lot of growing up and maturing to do.”

“Me too,” I admit.

“At this point in our lives, even though it’s unplanned, we’re in a better place to deal with the responsibility.”

“Definitely. And we’re going to be great parents.”

Her brow furrows. “Do you think we should move up the wedding?”

I shrug. “Whatever you want. I’m good either way.”

Her expression softens, the worry evaporating as if it had never been there in the first place. “I love you, Rowan.”

“Right back at you, babe.”

That being said, I carry my soon-to-be-wife into our condo before swinging toward the master suite. Once inside the spacious room, I carefully set her in the middle of the king-sized bed before straightening to my full height.

Just looking at her is enough to get my dick hard.

My fingers grip the hem of my T-shirt before dragging it over my head and dropping it to the floor. The shorts and boxers get shoved to my ankles until I’m completely naked. Her eyes travel down my length before stopping to rest on my cock. The longer she stares, the more ramped up I get.

Her gaze has that effect on me.

Always has.

“I think one of us might be overdressed for this occasion,” I growl, ready to rip every shred of clothing off her delectable little body.

“Since you’re not wearing anything, it must be me.”

“Yup.”

With that, my fingers tighten around her shorts and panties, pulling them off with one swift yank. They get dropped onto the growing pile of clothing before I crawl onto the bed and strip off the tank top, leaving her gloriously bare.

There’s nothing I love more in this world than being naked with Demi. Instead of delving in and taking her the way every instinct is prodding me to do, I sit back and appreciate the gorgeous picture she makes with her dark hair fanned out around her. Her nipples are tight little peaks that beg for my attention. Even though she no longer works out like she used to, her body is still muscular from years of training. Her belly has the slightest curve to it, and her thighs are sleek and supple. Her figure has always turned me on.

It’s fucking sexy as hell.

But now it’s even more so, because she’s carrying my baby.

Unable to help myself, I settle over her lower abdomen before cradling her belly in one large hand. It seems unbelievable that life is now growing inside her.

Life that we created.

Glancing upward, I meet her gaze. “I love you so much.”

I feel bonded to her in a way I didn’t realize was possible.

Softness fills her eyes as she tunnels her fingers through my hair. “I love you too. More than anything. I hope you know that.”

I do.

My lips drift across her belly before sinking lower to her pussy. Her legs widen until I’m able to glimpse every delicate inch.

Fuck, but she’s beautiful.

And mine.

She’ll always be mine.

Just like I’m hers.

My tongue darts out to lap at her softness before dragging it from the bottom of her slit to the top and circling her clit. That’s all it takes for a whimper to escape as she grows restless. My hands settle on her thighs to hold her in place as I continue to eat her up. The more I lick, the creamier she becomes.

I could lap this girl up all day.

Actually, I have.

Best twenty-four hours of my life.

When I nibble at her clit a second time, her muscles tighten, and I know she’s seconds away from splintering apart. It won’t take much—

Her back bows off the mattress as she moans out her orgasm. I don’t relent until every last spasm has been wrung from her body and her muscles loosen. I glance up, only to find an expression of utter bliss on her face.

My chest expands with the knowledge that I’m the only man who gets to see her like this. The only one who will ever make her feel like she’s been propelled into the atmosphere to touch the stars.

The truth of the matter is that she does the very same for me.

I press one last kiss against her pussy before carefully crawling up her body until my mouth can hover over hers. She lifts her face so that our lips can meld. When she opens, our tongues mingle. With my arms flanking her shoulders, I hold myself up so that my full weight doesn’t settle on her. Now that I know she’s pregnant, I’m afraid of crushing her or hurting the baby.

“I need to feel you inside me,” she whispers.

My cock nudges the swollen entrance of her body. One flex of my hips and I’m sliding inside her warmth. A sigh of contentment escapes from me as I bury myself balls deep. There’s no better feeling in the world than this.

It doesn’t take long for us to fall into a steady rhythm. We fit perfectly. We always have. Our gazes stay locked as I make sweet love to the woman of my dreams.

And this time, when she shatters, I’m right there with her.

The End

About the Author

Jennifer Sucevic is a USA Today bestselling author who has published twenty-three New Adult novels. Her work has been translated into German, Dutch, and Italian. Jen has a bachelor’s degree in History and a master’s degree in Educational Psychology. Both are from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. She started out her career as a high school counselor. She currently lives in the Midwest with her husband and four kids. If you would like to receive regular updates regarding new releases, please subscribe to her newsletter here.

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HERO SOCIETY

A NIGHT OUT

JESSICA FLORENCE

CHAPTER ONE

LILITH

“OH, STAR!”

“Yes, right there!”

“I love it when you do that!”

The sexy hands of my husband, Leon, were equivalent to magic. They amazed me by all the delicious ways they shot fireworks into my vision and curled my toes.

“You’re gonna kick me in the face if you keep moving your foot like that.” His voice wrapped around me like the sweet melody of smooth jazz. I looked into his sweet brown eyes and fell all over again. Not only did this man save our city and the world, but then he came home to rub my swollen feet. I’d overdone things today with training. Even though our resident ex-villain, Dr. Dorian, said I could train the new lots of heroes while pregnant, I could feel when my body had enough. Too bad one of the gentlemen didn’t know who I was and made a comment about girls not being as good of fighters as men. Hence the overdoing it.

As a retired spy goddess, I could have annihilated him. Even thought about it for a few seconds. I was what people liked to call a morally gray person. My husband was the light, the goodness in my life, and a bright star in this sometimes dark world. I’d do anything for him, and in order to remain part of the Hero Society, I had to choose the higher route versus the easier one.

“I heard about the trainee today. I’m surprised he still wants to be a part of the club.” The man stopped rubbing my feet, and I groaned.

“He made a comment about how women sucked as fighters. I only bloodied his nose.” I didn’t even break bone.

“And he didn’t run.”

“Nope. I think he had grown up around other men who said women sucked in a fight. Once I showed him how easy it was to defeat him, pregnant belly and all, his whole mindset changed. He took five minutes to clean up, then came back to work and kept his mouth shut.” I’d honestly been impressed by the male’s willingness to grow as a human. Not everyone could do that, and I had to give the man props when due.

“I never doubted you’d change that attitude. No one can resist you when you’re kicking ass.” That big body of his leaned over and kissed me briefly.

“If memory serves me, you resisted me.” My fingers wiggled up his chest to slowly scratch my nails along his blond head. Leon and I had an interesting start years ago. He’d strolled into the club I danced at to drain his sorrows away when I waltzed over and sat on his lap. Hours later we were married, but he’d forgotten about that little detail the next morning. We’ve been through a lot over the years, but I’ve never regretted marrying him so quickly.

“Resisting was futile.” His tongue flicked my lips, and that was all I needed. Swollen feet be damned. I needed to exercise my body a little bit longer. A few reps of horizontal and vertical tangos wouldn’t kill me.

“I thought you said you were tired when I came home.” Leon smiled and I tried to shush him with my tongue.

“Resisting is futile, remember.” I grabbed his hands and placed them over my tits. He didn’t need to be told twice what I needed. His fingers caressed my piercings, eliciting a moan from my mouth into his.

Then someone knocked on the door.

“We’re not home! Come back another time!” I yelled with a smile before I kissed along the sexy untrimmed jawline in front of me.

“It’s girls’ night!” Rose, one of the OGs of the Hero Society, sang from the other side of the door. I forgot about our planned night out. Today had been so stimulating the thought had fled my mind. Leon laughed but switched from teasing my tits to hot kisses on my collar bone. Normally, I’d be strutting out the door ready to cause chaos with the ladies.

But oh, those hands.

“You made us promise to not take no for an answer!” another voice from the group sounded off, and I knew they were all standing out there waiting for me.

“Want me to get your shoes?” Leon barely kept in his laughter. I was stuck between a hard dick and a rock. Or something like that. It was impossible to think when my demon of a husband lowered his mouth to my nipples.

“We’re going to do your favorite thing tonight!” I listened as the girls tried to get my attention while Leon played tongue the barbells.

“I can do your favorite thing tonight too, darling.” He nailed me right in the hormones. The way he called me darling got me every time. Like a match to a puddle of gasoline, I was blazing hot and ready to burn.

“Give me five minutes or you’re gonna get to see how babies are made!” I hollered and heard a few of the ladies giggle before their steps were leading away.

“Five minutes?” Leon’s eyebrow arched, and I patted his shoulder.

“Your superpowers are strength and speed. I believe in you.” We’d had many quickies, and I knew he could make me come multiple times within those five minutes. I was primed and ready to go, and he wasted no time rising to the challenge. Sounds of ripped clothes and hot kisses filled the small room as hands gripped my thighs, promptly lifting me up and impaling me on my favorite thing on tonight’s agenda.

CHAPTER TWO

LILITH

“OK, so if nobody’s gonna ask, I guess I’ll be the one. What is the arm bench?” The beautiful, and usually stoic, raven-haired Echo prodded. I was surprised her warlock husband hadn’t held her up for a magical bout of arm bench sex.

“I’m glad someone asked. I’ve heard a lot of stuff, working with teens all day, but I hadn’t heard of that one yet.” Rose leaned in close after shoving a fried pickle chip in her mouth. Our girls’ night consisted of three members from the Hero Society who weren’t working or busy. Rose, Echo, and Hazel. All of whom worked hard and fucked even harder, based on the conversations we had since arriving.

“Agreed, spill the details.” Hazel pulled her hoodie further over her head to further hide herself. Poor thing, sometimes she couldn’t breathe without someone recognizing her. The lifestyle of a famous singer didn’t sound fun at all. I was more of a dancer than a vocalist anyways.

“Ok, so visualize this. Leon’s got me resting on his arm, ya know.”

“Don’t know.”

“So, I’m just resting with my back on his arm, his hand near my neck, with my legs on his shoulder. And he both slams into me and moved me back into him. He is just the strongest.” Tingles rolled over me just thinking about it.

“Super strength has its advantages.” Rose blushed and I vigorously nodded. My pregnant belly wasn’t large yet, but we still needed to be creative.

“You should all tell your guys about it. I bet they’d love to try it. Echo, you could have Asher lift you up magically. I’m sure Draco could make it work for you Rose; he had to have picked up some skills in his long-lived life. And Hazel, hello, your man can manipulate air. Ya have got to have tried anti-gravity sex.” My animations and sex talk gathered the attention of some nosey table neighbors behind our booth.

“You should find yourself a superhero lover. They do the most wicked things,” I admitted, and the older woman gasped.

“I know, it would change your life. Definitely get on that.” I pointed a finger in her direction to drive my point home. All three ladies at our table held back their laughter, but I didn’t say anything funny. Superhero men were the shit in bed. So were their women too.

“There they are!” Rose squealed but with a lower and more covert tone. My other favorite thing to do. Stalk the heroes’ computer genius when he went on dates. I’d subtly, not-so-subtly, adopted the teen since I met him. Whenever A.J. went out on dates, I was there. Someone had to look after the not-so-much a kid anymore.

“I’m surprised he hasn’t seen us already. He has to know we are here,” Rose mused, and I was curious as well. Maybe he was purposefully ignoring us. I instantly shook my head with the thought. A.J. fought my theatrics at first, but over time he’d come to appreciate me crashing his dates. If a woman couldn’t handle me or the chaotic life, then she wasn’t a fit for him. That young man lived in a reality where villains, superheroes, threats of death, and magic occurred daily. She had to be strong and up for the challenge.

“He just waved. We’re good,” Echo noticed, and I smiled widely to the sweetest nerd in the world.

“I’d knock anyone on their ass for that little shit.”

“You’re gonna make a great mom, Lilith.” Hazel winked and I shined, knowing that her words were not sarcastic but a true compliment. I’d gone through hell in my life and rose like the damn fire bird I was. I gave no fucks and lived my life how I wanted. My hands drifted over my exposed belly with love.

“You’re also gonna be the hottest mom while I’m over here looking like a toad.” Rose gently held her own baby bump, and I shook my head.

“You’re a hot ass pregger. I mean, have you looked at those tits today? Beautiful! Draco sure as hell worships that body. The proof is in the babies ya made.” She blushed and I opened my mouth to keep complimenting the goddess when someone had the audacity to make a comment nearby about pregnancy belonging in the kitchen.

All thoughts screeched to a halt. Four glaring lady heads turned to look at the four dudes eating cheese fries, simply carrying on like that hadn’t insulted us. Their women had their heads cast down at their plates.

“Did they just say what I think they did?” Hazel asked, and one of the men with a backwards cap on his head glanced our way.

“Oops, I think we pissed the ladies off. Listen, it was just a joke.”

“I love comedians. I saw one the other day that had me laughing so hard I totally peed. I’d love to hear another joke.” I scooted out of the booth, grabbed a seat, and plopped it and my ass at the end of their table. Everyone in their group tensed, and I enjoyed their unease from my lack of respecting their personal space.

“Dude, it was a joke. Don’t need to be weird about it,” another male tried to interject, but instead of moving, I settled in like a child at story time.

“They really didn’t mean anything by it. Some women like being at home when pregnant. That’s all.” One of the wives or girlfriends scooted closer to her person, and sometimes it hurt to watch women attach themselves to men who would toss their ass under a bus. But she had the choice to do so, and who was I to take that away?

“Since you guys are boringgg, I’ll tell a joke. It’s about this pregnant woman. Because you know the best jokes start with pregnant women. We are hilarious. She was sitting at a restaurant one day, eating, minding her own pregnant ass, when a bunch of dickbags made a sexist comment and she beat their ass with her belly on full display. Do you get the punch line?” I laughed hysterically before standing smoothly from my chair and placing it back where it belonged. The men both avoided me and looked angry. I must have bumped into their egos a little too hard.

They could have come at me, maybe even yelled in my face, but the sound of gunshots stopped them.

CHAPTER THREE

LILITH

I CONNECTED eyes with my group, and instantly we ducked under the table to discuss quickly.

“Echo, figure out the situation.” I rattled off orders to the shifter and watched as she turned into a bird, then took off.

“Rose, see if you can calm the crowd down before they get themselves killed.” The empath rubbed her hands together with a deep exhale.

“Hazel, I saw a potted plant hanging by the register.” The singer nodded, and I highly doubted everyone’s talents were necessary in this holdup, but we’d get things done sooner rather than later.

“What about you?” Rose asked between deep breaths. My fingers dug through my purse until I found my phone and earbuds. I popped them in, and Rose had her answer. I was gonna do what I did best: kick ass, dancing style. A song came to mind, and five seconds later, the music replaced the scared screams and angry robbers.

Echo’s face came into view and let us know the situation. I read her lips and cataloged how many we needed to take down. Five males in heavy armor guarded the doors, while two men raided the register, and lastly three men grabbed the owner and dragged her into the back. Not exactly a typical robbery of the diner. This was bigger and needed the Hero Society’s intervention for sure.

“I’ve got the register.” Hazel called her players, while Echo and Rose would take on the doorkeepers. I’d handle the men in the back after I checked on my little ward.

“Go team.” I winked and hit play on the new remix of “Cold Heart.” As soon as the beat dropped, I rose on a slide to the right. Echo shifted into an alligator and hauled ass to the first two guards at the double doors nearest us. They shot at her with wide as fuck eyes and missed multiple times. Rose passed people who instantly chilled by her presence, and the guard debated whether he should relax too or shoot her.

My hips wiggled with hypnotic rhythm as I danced my way to the table A.J. had been at. Vines shot past me, and I gently stepped over and around as Hazel tangled up the register dudes.

“Good?” I asked the youngin who had his gun drawn, ready to take on the baddies. Such a good boy. He didn’t need me right now.

“Careful,” he mouthed, his eyes dropped to my belly.

“Don’t worry, your brother or sister is safe.” He knew he didn’t need to worry. Pregnant women may need their swollen feet rubbed and pee a little when they laugh, but they could still become the warriors that gave the world life. We were literal goddesses, and mere men shall not fucketh with us, or they will face our wrath.

I evaded angry Echo in bear form now and more vines as I made my way to the kitchen door. As I twirled into the room, bullets flew past my shoulder, and I spun on my knees toward the first douchebag. Rising with a headbutt that would give all hair-flipping metalheads a run. I wiggled against the man while my hands gripped his arm and twisted. He grunted behind me as I pushed my hips back and pulled his arm forward. His heavy body rolled over mine, and I punched his temple on a quick beat. One down, more to take out before my song ended.

I kicked the next door open and sang the lyrics as I shimmied my way into the hall of offices. A tall male dressed in tactical gear like the others ran at me, a knife in each hand. I laughed, then reached down to take off my heels and grip them tightly. He’d have been better off with a gun. I ducked and twirled around him with a heel already coming down on the meat of his neck. It took a lot of force to dig a heel into someone’s skin, but unfortunately, fortunately, I’ve had practice. I grinned and went to kick him in the back to knock off his balance, but he shifted his position. His thick hand gripped my leg and knocked me against the wall.

He spat at me, and while I appreciated his anger taking over, he wouldn’t be too happy when he remembered I had another heel in my other hand. A heel that was on its way to some very important parts as he wrapped a hand around my throat.

His eyes widened as the heel made contact with his sack. His whole body deflated in a crumpled ball on the floor. Poor man, but he touched me, and I didn’t like being touched.

I had about thirty seconds left on my song, and I refused to pick another. I rushed to the last door with my non-embedded heel still in my hand. The gunman had his weapon against a crying woman’s temple. Before he could react, I whipped my shoe at his head and rolled across the desk as it smacked him in the face. As the hero, I tried not to kill anyone, but when I saw what the goon had planned on doing to the owner, my plan changed.

I’d been used, I’d been treated like a toy, and I’d be damned if I’d let anyone be treated that way again. The attacker came for me with a pistol, but I was too close. I kneed him in the gut and thrust my palm up and straight into his nose. The crunch beneath my hand was only the beginning.

“Run.” I commanded the owner to get out of here while I finished off the asshole. She didn’t need to see him meet his end.

“Don’t kill him,” she pleaded, and I elbowed him in the chest and noticed her face shift from fear to anger. I gripped his throat and squeezed his carotid. He’d pass out soon enough but not without a fight. I kicked his legs out from beneath him and pressed my bare foot against his neck.

“He was trying to intimidate me to drop the charges on his boss and give up my diner.” She straightened herself up and looked him in the barely conscious eyes.

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?”

“Thank you,” she breathed and watched as her intimidator lost his fight with staying conscious. The song had ended at least a minute ago, but I wasn’t upset. This is why I did what I did. I could be the muscle that brought evil to their knees while those they tried to hurt stood up to them.

“Lilith!” a familiar voice echoed down the hall.

“Oh, my honey bun is here!” I released the man beneath my foot and took off for my star. He reached me first with his speed, and I leaped into his arms.

“We’re ok, Star.” I kissed his lips to reassure him that the baby and I were ok. He sometimes struggled with the need to protect me from danger by wishing I’d stay behind. But we both knew I’d never be a caged bird again. I was a firebird, and firebirds rise and firebirds fly.

“Here’s your shoe back. I grabbed it from the guy in the hall.” He lifted my bloody heel with a knowing grin.

“I think running around barefoot gets me another foot rub when we get home.” I pouted my lips, and the man barked a laugh.

“Let’s wrap this mess up and go home.” His hand touched my belly between us as his mouth gently caressed mine. Two pecks later, police rushed into the office to collect the unconscious tool and get a statement from the owner. Leon carried me to our friends, who waited with the police and smiles of success. No one was hurt besides the baddies.

“These guys were a new drug dealer’s goons. Turns out the owner saw the boss murder a woman and will testify to put him and his men away for good.” A freshly-clothed Echo stepped away from her detective colleagues to fill us in on the details of this seemingly random crime.

“We’ll keep an eye on her until the charges are finalized.” Hazel stepped into view, her hoodie still drawn tight around her head. Having plant magic was so badass. She didn’t even break a sweat wrapping the dudes in the once-small potted plant’s vines.

“Women stick together.” Rose walked into view with a grin.

“Fuck yeah, we do. If you pick a fight with one of us, you picked a fight with all of us.”

“Say it, Rose.” Echo nudged the empath, saying my line.

“You guys are ridiculous. I swear you want me to say it every day.” She shook her head, but I knew she’d do it. It was the perfect way to end our hero act of the day.

“We are heroes in the darkest times, and we will always rise to fight the shadows of the world of mankind. It’s what we do.” The group hugged and parted with more big smiles.

“Now let’s all go home and have superhero sex with our super-hot husbands.” I cheered as my super speedy husband understood the memo and raced us home for another few rounds of foot rubs and arm bench sex.

About the Author

Jessica Florence writes the stories that her fellow nerds yearn for.

From Superheroes to Sexy Truckers, Jessica is known to give readers unique tales of hope where love conquers all. Stories that melt away reality and take you on a journey with the characters. If escapism is what you are looking for, then look no further. Jessica is the Queen of weaving the tales you may not normally pick up but find yourself not being able to put down.

Jessica’s always had a love of reading, and her love of books lead her to start writing in the 9th grade. She quickly learned that storytelling was her passion. Inspired by movies, music, and her personal life she writes like it’s the very air she breathes. Through her writing it’s evident that she lives for the stories she creates.

Jessica currently resides in North Carolina with her daughter, husband, and many animals. She loves to be outside, write in her hammock, and collect tea mugs.

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BIRTHDAY GIRL

JILLIAN LIOTA

SAVANNAH

“GIN AND TONIC, PLEASE.”

I turn at the sound of his voice, the raspy quality sending shivers down my spine and immediately piquing my interest.

“Hendrick’s if you have Fentimans. Nolet’s if you don’t.”

My lips kick up at the side. “That was specific,” I say, surprising myself a little bit with the forwardness of my words. I wouldn’t normally say anything to a man who happens to sit next to me at a bar, but this afternoon, my own gin and tonic seems to have loosened my tongue.

His eyes find mine when I speak, and the way they pierce through me, shrewd and instantly assessing, has me worried I’ve said the wrong thing. But within a flash, they warm, and his lips curve into a lazy, charming smile I’m almost certain has broken more than a few hearts.

“I’m a picky guy,” he replies, shifting to the side and leaning an elbow on the edge of the bar.

At that, I smile, knowing without a doubt it’s true. A man who is that selective about his tonic water isn’t going to be Mr. Go-with-the-Flow in other areas of his life.

“Here you are, sir.”

We both look at the bartender, who sets down a rocks glass on a thin coaster before turning to me.

“Can I get you another drink?”

I open my mouth to protest, knowing one drink at two in the afternoon should be my limit if I hope to avoid an evening hangover, but before the words come out, the man beside me speaks instead.

“On me.”

My eyes flick back to him, the warm brown of them telling me another drink on a Sunday afternoon at a hotel in the middle of the city is exactly what I want.

And I know he’s right.

So instead of declining, I nod my head. “Another, please.”

The bartender turns to do…whatever it is he needs to do to prepare my drink, and I continue to stare at the man next to me, enraptured by his commanding nature. It isn’t usually my thing, but today is different.

Today, this man before me, the man who has already sent more than one shiver through my body and seems to have just compelled me with only a few words…is exactly the kind of thing I want.

Maybe even need.

“Sebastian,” he says, extending his hand toward me.

I blink a few times, the name sounding so formal and well-to-do, before reaching out to slip my hand into his.

“Savannah.”

“Nice to meet you, Savannah,” he says, looking toward the bartender, who has returned with my newly refreshed drink.

In that brief few seconds when his eyes are focused elsewhere, I allow myself a chance to hastily peruse him. His jeans fit comfortably over a well-shaped ass and muscular thighs, the dark wash pairing nicely with the blazer he’s wearing over a casual, thinly striped shirt. All of that rests on broad shoulders and what I assume are muscular biceps if the way the material of his jacket shifts and creases is any indicator.

Maybe that’s what it is—that element of casual in stark contrast to his commanding demeanor.

Well, whatever it is he’s giving off today, it’s working for me, and a small ripple of anticipation threads through me when his eyes meet mine again.

“So, Savannah, what brings you into the city?” he asks as I reach out to pull my drink closer.

“What makes you think I’m visiting?” I ask in playful reply.

He smirks. “Call it…intuition.”

I chuckle. “Well, your intuition is correct. My mother lives in the city and I try to visit her as often as I can.”

Sebastian’s head bobs. “And you don’t stay with her when you visit?” He lifts his drink to his mouth and takes a sip.

At that, I let out a real laugh. “Sometimes I do, but this weekend I wanted to pamper myself a bit. A little birthday self-care.”

His eyebrows rise. “It’s your birthday, huh?”

I nod.

“Well…” He raises his glass to me. “To the birthday girl. May she get everything her heart desires.”

At the devilish way his voice dips when he says ‘everything,’ I uncross and recross my legs, feeling the beginnings of need as it pulses low in my belly.

“I don’t think I’ve ever gotten everything I wanted on a birthday before,” I reply. “Though the idea does sound good.”

“Maybe I can help with that,” he says, leaning just the slightest bit forward. “Tell me something you want for your birthday, and maybe I can give it to you.”

My neck flushes when he says the last few words, the temperature of my body rising several degrees.

I clear my throat.

Based on the way his eyes lock on my legs, I can tell where we both are hoping this is headed, and it’s many floors above us in a king-size bed.

“It doesn’t feel fair to ask someone I don’t know for anything,” I say in response, wishing I could be a bit trampier, a bit sluttier, to move this along to the good part. “Besides, not every wish should be shared.”

Just say it, my inner harlot tells me. Just tell him you want to be good and fucked for your birthday.

At even just thinking the words, I can’t help but giggle, and Sebastian’s smile becomes wolfish when I bite my lip to cut off the sound.

“Oh, now…you can’t tease me with something like that,” he says, shifting even closer.

Sebastian dips slightly so our eyes are just inches apart.

“Tell me what ran through your mind that made you laugh like that.”

I lick my dry lips then revel in the way it feels to have Sebastian’s eyes drop to focus on the tiny movement before they rise again to connect with mine.

SEBASTIAN

I CAN SEE her pulse thumping at her neck, her delicate skin revealing her thoughts to me even though her mouth stays firmly shut. She wants something to happen as much as—if not more than—I do, and her body is telling me in more ways than just her racing pulse.

It’s in her shallow breaths.

Her arms, covered in goose bumps.

The dilation of her pupils.

But Savannah isn’t the forward type. You can tell from the way her cheeks flush every time she says something even remotely bold, like she’d prefer to rewind time about ten seconds to reconsider whatever she just said.

I like it, though. That hint of a flush. The little bit of nerves.

She’s already sexy as hell, and the idea that I might be able to pull something dirty out of her…it turns me on in incredible ways.

“How about this…” I say, not wanting to scare her off. “I’ll tell you what I’d like to give you for your birthday if you promise to tell me what you actually want.”

She giggles nervously again.

“You want to give me something for my birthday?” she asks, the innocent nature of her question sending a flurry of activity through my body.

“Oh, Savannah, you have no idea,” I reply, allowing my voice to lower to the depth that had her blushing earlier.

She licks her lips again and glances at her half-finished gin and tonic before turning her eyes back to mine.

“Alright,” she says, and I can tell it makes her fidgety to even say that much. “Let’s hear it, then.”

The list of things I could say races through my mind, some things too crass to consider, others not dirty at all. Ultimately, I settle on something I think is just enough to get her riled up, something that will make her break out of her usual reserved cocoon to become the sexy butterfly I know is in there.

“For your birthday,” I start, leaning close, making certain my words are for her alone. “I want to run my lips and tongue over every inch of your skin until you’re soaking wet.”

She swallows thickly, and I can see the way my statement affects her in the way the little hairs at the nape of her neck stand on end. Her breaths are shallow as her eyes rise to meet my gaze, and I watch her sway toward me slightly, as if there is a magnet drawing her being toward mine.

“Now, your turn,” I tell her, hoping what I said was just enough to push her forward.

I watch her swallow again, her eyes darting to my lips for a brief second before she looks around nervously. I don’t have to peruse the room to know what she sees because I know exactly what’s going on around us.

The bartender is polishing glasses at the other end of the long bar.

Two businessmen are having some sort of meeting in a pair of loungers near the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the hotel’s lobby atrium.

And another couple is scrolling on their phones with boredom at a booth in the corner.

I took it all in when I first stepped into the second-floor bar at the Sheldon Hotel ten minutes ago and eyed Savannah sitting alone with her half-gone drink, and I doubt anything has truly changed in that amount of time. I’m confident she’s able to confirm everyone else is far enough away that they won’t hear her when she whispers what she wants for her birthday, but I have to say, even I’m a bit bowled over when she finally musters the courage to vocalize the thought on her mind.

“I want you to take me upstairs and fuck me,” she says, her words low but sure.

I blink twice but try not to let my face show how much what she just said has affected me, though I definitely have to shift my hips to hide my growing erection.

Instead of actually acknowledging what she said, I tug my wallet from my pocket and toss down a few twenties on the bar, sure that will more than cover our drinks.

“Then come with me, Birthday Girl,” I say, slipping my hand into hers and giving it a slight tug.

She slips off her stool with ease and walks with me out of the bar and through the lobby until we reach the elevators that will take us up to my room on the eighteenth floor. The air between us sizzles with tension, and we eye each other in the silver mirrored doors while we wait several long moments for the elevator to come collect us.

A soft chime sounds and the doors open. Savannah’s hand gently squeezes mine, her sweetness and excitement easily visible as she steps quickly into the waiting car.

For whatever reason, we part ways then, standing on opposite sides in the small space, facing each other as we lean against the side walls.

And then we make our slow ascent to the room I have just for tonight.

SAVANNAH

I WOULD NORMALLY NEVER DO something this wild, but today is my birthday, and just once, I want to feel like I’m doing something completely outlandish, like going to bed with a stranger. I’ve been a rule follower for my entire life, and tonight, I’m breaking them.

Sebastian leads me from the elevator down the hallway to a room at the end, then swipes his card and holds the door for me as I enter the lavish space. I’ve stayed in this hotel once before when I was much younger, and I know the view of the city from this height is breathtaking.

But I’m not interested in a tour.

I’m not interested in anything but Sebastian following through with his promise to make my birthday wish come true. If he wants to fuck me up against the window so I can watch the city below us, maybe then I’ll care about the view.

We stare at each other for a few beats as the door slowly closes behind him, the loud click of the latch seeming to be the release that has us both launching forward, our bodies coming together in a mess of heat and need.

Our kiss is just on the soft side of angry, our mouths opening and tongues tangling, the flavor of him combusting on my taste buds. We are an explosion of lust, a collision of desire, and I become a desperate, wanton thing in his arms. His hands explore my curves, and he groans out his own relief at being pressed against me.

“God, I thought we’d never get here,” he mutters before his mouth is back on mine and his hands slip under my shirt to expertly unlatch the hooks at the back of my bra.

“Me neither,” I say as he begins kissing and sucking his way down my neck, my own hands fumbling with the button on his jeans a few times before I finally get it.

Within less than a minute, we’ve managed to strip off most of our outerwear, each of us down to our undies as we continue to kiss and caress while moving slowly through the room toward the bed.

“Tell me again,” he whispers in my ear as he tugs my bra off. “Tell me again what you want.”

My heart races and I open my eyes, the look of urging on his face making me feel brave.

“I want you to fuck me,” I say, this time without any further prompting. “Hard.”

His eyes close for just a few seconds, as if he’s reveling in my words, and when they reopen, I catch a shimmer of mischief before he presses me into the bed.

“As you wish, Birthday Girl,” he says, shoving me back slightly then spreading my legs wide.

Sebastian pulls my panties to the side and drops his mouth to the center of me, the heat and slick wetness of his tongue brushing me from core to clit in one thorough motion that has my fingernails digging into the fancy comforter beneath me. His fingers part my folds, and he proceeds to stroke me with his tongue, back and forth, up and down, over and over, as one finger gently circles that little ball of need.

I squirm, my body becoming a desperate mess in just seconds at his ministrations, at the expert way he plays my body. It feels like far too soon when that warm tingle begins to pool in my pelvis, my orgasm looming in the distance, waiting for the right moment.

A moment that comes only a short while later. Sebastian’s tongue replaces his finger and he closes his mouth over my clit, sucking in a gentle rhythm as two fingers slide into my pussy. One, two, three pumps plus a few flicks of his fingers inside of me and I launch over the edge, almost startlingly fast, crying out with a whimper of pleasure as lightning flashes through me, white hot and branching outward from my core.

He doesn’t say anything as I come, just continues to suck gently and lick up the juices he has managed to pull out of me.

“How was that?” he says a minute later as my body finally stops shaking.

I nod my head, as if that’s any kind of answer, and Sebastian just chuckles.

“Well, I’ll take speechless as a telling response,” he jokes, climbing up the bed toward me until he’s hovering right above my body. “But I hope you don’t think we’re done.”

My eyes widen, and that’s when I feel his boxer-clad erection stroking my thigh, my mouth watering and my pussy instantly clenching with need, as if the orgasm he wrung out of me didn’t just happen.

“Is it time for you to fuck me now?” I ask, spreading my legs wide again and wrapping them around his hips, bringing his dick against my wetness, the two of us only separated by a thin layer of cotton.

I’d be shocked at my own boldness if I wasn’t so desperate to have him inside me.

I feel a ripple or some kind of shiver as it runs through his body, and I watch as his lips tilt up in appreciative surprise at my question.

“A promise is a promise, right?” he replies, his mouth dropping to mine to give me a long, wet, lusty kiss that has me squirming against him.

I use my feet to push his boxers down, then reach between us to take him in hand and guide him to my entrance. I can’t help but enjoy the way his eyes close as the head of his dick kisses the open lips of my pussy, the heat and wetness enough to make both of us take deep breaths to try to get ourselves back under control.

Then Sebastian winks, right before his hips slam forward and the entire length of him slides snugly into me, the pleasure-pain making me cry out and toss my head back in surprise.

“Fuck, Bas,” I say, shifting my hips against his, then matching his rhythm as he thrusts into me over and over again, both of us lost in a hunger that can only be satisfied by clinging to each other and riding this thing all the way to the end.

“You feel so good.” His hips are still punching, his balls slapping against me with every thrust. “So tight, and warm, and wet.”

I moan, squeezing my inner walls around him, and revel in the way his movements stutter as he’s almost overcome.

“Not yet,” he tells me, almost like he’s irritated that I can bring him so close to the edge. “You first.”

He reaches down and strokes my clit, circling and circling as he continues to do exactly what he promised: to fuck me.

That warmth pooling within me pulls taut, like a cord being tugged to the brink of breaking, then it snaps loose and my entire body floods with warm, delicious pleasure that races to every single finger and toe.

“Jesus, Sav,” he barks before stilling atop me, his eyes latched to mine as he pumps hot and wet inside of me. With a whispered “Fuck,” he sinks his body weight on top of mine for a long moment, kissing me with that same slick neediness, and then he rolls off me onto the mattress.

I turn on my side and look at the man next to me, my eyes raking over the hard planes of his body and the smooth, tan lengths of his skin.

God, he’s gorgeous.

“Take it all in, babe,” he mumbles, his voice soft and his lips tilted up. “Take it all in.”

I snort and shove him lightly then roll my eyes when he turns to give me a full smile.

“What?”

“What do you mean, what?” I wave a hand at my body and affect a deeper voice. “Take it all in.”

He chuckles, but his eyes roam over my naked body. “I do, every chance I get.”

And then he’s crawling on top of me again and resting his body between my legs so his face is tucked against my chest. The little bit of roughness from his not-yet-five-o’clock shadow stings my breasts slightly, but he just grins and rubs his face against my nipples on purpose.

“You barely went for my breasts,” I tell him.

He gives a small shrug, then begins sucking lightly on one nipple before switching to the other, the action sending pings of need down to my core again. I want to swat him away, my body too tired to have him begin playing with me again, but he grabs my hands and holds them down on the mattress.

“I might normally be a boob guy, but that doesn’t mean I can’t change it up every so often,” he says. “Besides, if you’re going to critique my bedroom skills, be prepared for me to prove you wrong,” he adds with a smile.

“Bas, I cannot go again. I’m exhausted.” I turn my head to look at the clock next to the bed. “And we have to be at my mother’s in an hour to pick up the kids.”

He smirks. “An hour? Honey, I only need a couple minutes.”

I burst into laughter, and his face contorts when he realizes what he just said.

“Wait, that’s not what I meant.”

I just keep laughing until he returns his mouth to my nipples, sucking tightly on one and jerking me back into a needy, writhing mess.

Sebastian has always made me feel lust-filled like this, desirous in a way no other man ever has, but eighteen years of marriage doesn’t always allow for the most spontaneity. So, every once in a while, we drop our kids off with my mom and spend an afternoon at a hotel in the city. Sometimes, we just soak in a tub together. Other times, like today, we play little games and act like strangers.

There are only so many new things you can learn about someone after being together for nearly two decades, though I’m pretty sure we each learned something new about the other today.

“What was that I want you to fuck me, hard stuff?” he asks, his tongue tracing around my nipple, which is now a hard bead on top of my breast.

I squirm. “I just wanted to shock you,” I say with a half-smile.

“Well, consider me shocked.”

“And consider me horny. Can you please touch me or something?”

He chuckles then licks me again. “I am touching you.”

“You know what I mean, Sebastian.”

He laughs again at my use of his full first name outside of our game earlier since it’s usually the way he knows I’m irritated at him.

“You gonna use your words again? Tell me what you really want?”

I huff. “Fuck me, Bas.”

He looks into my eyes with a grin. “Is that an official request?”

“It’s a demand.”

Sebastian laughs once more before he seems to mentally settle on what he’s going to do next.

“Anything for the birthday girl.”

About the Author

Jillian Liota is a Southern California native currently living in Suwanee, Georgia. She is married to her best friend, has a three-legged pup with endless energy, and acts as a servant to a very temperamental cat.

Jillian writes contemporary and new adult romance, and has had her writing praised for depth of character, strong female friendships, deliciously steamy scenes, and positive portrayal of mental health.

To connect with Jillian:

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COMPLICATIONS

A HER BILLIONAIRES STORY

JULIA KENT

This story is dedicated to Minnie, my grandmother’s best friend. She is the reason my grandmother, born in 1917, donated to reproductive rights organizations until the day she died.

DOCTOR ALEX DERJIAN walked into Jeddy’s Diner feeling like he’d just been hit by a truck, except the truck was three centimeters wide.

“You look horrible,” his wife said as he plunked himself down on the torn vinyl seat in the booth, Josie scooting her perfect ass over to make room for his lumbering, exhausted form. As he settled in, bones grateful for the break, he leaned forward and shoved his fingers in his hair, curling them in and tugging lightly.

Anything to stop his racing mind.

“I feel horrible.”

Their eyes met as he looked up, Josie’s widening. “Oh, no. Fetal demise?”

Working as an OB-GYN and being married to a former nurse meant his life was filled with medical shorthand and utterly correct terminology. Unfortunately, this wasn’t true for some of the people in their life, like Josie’s best friend Laura, who began choking at the phrase “fetal demise.”

As one should.

“Yes. No. It’s… complicated,” he said in a rumbly voice that could only be made better by coffee, even at nearly eight p.m. Maybe decaf. He was well into his thirties now, and they had a baby at home. Caffeinating this late wouldn’t be smart.

Or maybe it would. Baby Luci was teething. He might have a middle-of-the-night shift with his own kid, depending on whether incisors were conspiring against him.

Besides, he had plenty of adrenaline in his system already. Wired exhaustion was the hallmark of physician life, but now that they had ten-month-old Luci at home, it was simply a way of life as well.

“You saved the baby, I hope?” Laura asked in a trembling voice, her spoon in her hand, the long sundae dish in front of her half-full. Hot fudge clustered in erratic patterns around melting clumps of vanilla ice cream, with crushed cookies and something that looked like peanut butter brickle scattered through the sweet concoction.

Jeddy’s Diner was an up-and-coming foodie joint, formerly a scrappy little hole-in-the-wall mostly serving burgers and morning specials. Eggs, toast, and coffee for three dollars a few years ago, but now that the cook was a culinary institute graduate, the menu was far more sophisticated.

But the place still felt like home.

On the table before him were assorted appetizer dishes, all of the coconut shrimp eaten, dots of batter left on the plate. Samosa sat at crooked angles next to each other, the formerly stuffed plate now just a geometry lesson of triangles, exactly four left. What looked like tempura-battered zucchini ribbons rested on white wax paper in a plastic basket, begging to be consumed.

Chicken fingers, a crispy golden color he never could match at home, practically called out his name.

The menu changed regularly, but Jeddy’s stayed the same.

While his appetite was low, his need for protein was high. A lone chicken finger called out to him.

He ate it in one bite.

“He’s going to make us wait in suspense, isn’t he?” Josie declared, hip checking him as Alex chewed quickly, the savory taste of the chicken making him crave more. How could he explain how it felt cutting a woman open on the table to save her life when the fetus inside her had no chance?

The thought made his stomach tighten, appetite in check.

“Ectopic,” he said, finally, as soon as his mouth was cleared. Josie winced, nodding slowly. Her exhale meant what he thought: she’d been worried he’d attended to a stillbirth, or worse—a live birth where the baby died within hours.

Not today. He’d seen fetal demise cases before, but thankfully, not today.

“Ectopic?” Laura asked, looking to Josie for an answer as Alex craned his head around them, searching for a waitress. His grandfather’s girlfriend, Madge, owned Jeddy’s, and for some reason he couldn’t explain, he really, really hoped she was working right now.

Alex tried not to sigh, flipping into explainer mode, but his wife beat him to it.

“It’s when the fetus doesn’t implant in the womb. Implants in the fallopian tube most of the time, but it can implant elsewhere,” Josie steadily explained, her voice clinical.

“I know what it is,” Laura said softly. “But surgery?”

“It’s the only way to save the mother. The fetus can’t survive at all,” Alex said slowly, his eyes finally landing on Madge, who was chewing out her grandson, Caleb, for something that upset her, her hands in the air, waving wildly. Dry and winkled like a raisin, she was a hair’s breadth to ninety and still worked too many hours here. Alex half expected to see his grandpa Ed tomato-staked to a booth by the register, decaf coffee and slice of strawberry pie before him.

But not tonight.

Nights were bad for his grandfather, whose Alzheimer’s was worsening. Madge and Ed had found each other in the final years of their mortal forms, and they were a blessing to each other in their late eighties.

Alex reached for his wife’s hand and squeezed as she tilted her head, sharp brown eyes meeting his.

“That bad?”

He kissed the back of her hand, savoring the soft skin under his lips. “The mother is fine. It’s all good.”

Both Laura and Josie relaxed instantly.

“You do surgery on lots of ectopics,” Josie noted. “Why do you seem so upset?”

“This was a very, very close case. The mother didn’t know it was ectopic. Has polycystic ovarian syndrome.”

“Like me!” Laura commented, leaning in, giving Alex a compassionate look. “Did she know she was pregnant?”

“No. Came in with severe abdominal pain. And no wonder—she was around fifteen weeks along. Most ectopics don’t make it beyond twelve to thirteen weeks, so risk of rupture and maternal death was elevated. She’d always had erratic periods. Thrilled when the ER med assistant did the pregnancy test, then horrified to learn how ectopic pregnancies work. The look on her face when I explained I needed to do surgery to save her life, and that the fetus can’t be saved was…”

“Oh, honey,” Josie murmured, kissing his shoulder and rubbing his back with a light touch that made him feel loved.

“Yeah. There’s only one way to ‘fix’ an ectopic pregnancy: abortion. You remove the fetus to save the mother. No matter what, the fetus cannot survive. It’s a no-win situation, but thankfully we can save the mother. The fetus was about to rupture her fallopian tube, and if that had happened…” He shuddered.

“Thank goodness she had you as a doctor! You did the surgery. Now she’s safe,” Josie said emphatically as Madge made her way on over, waving with a grin.

“You look like warmed-over shit,” she said to him as he stood to get a hug, her voice shaking with laughter as he bent over for the embrace.

“And your compliments are always a ray of sunshine during dark times,” he muttered into her ear, practically folding in half to be able to hug the tiny, hunched woman.

“Did I hear the word ‘abortion’?” Madge asked, pulling away, looking pointedly at the women with a puzzled look.

“I had an ectopic case tonight,” he explained. Madge nodded in sympathy.

“You have a lot of those?” she asked as she turned away, took three steps toward a station, and came back to refill their water glasses and deliver a fresh one for Alex.

“You don’t have to wait on us,” he insisted. Josie looked at him like he was nuts.

“Of course she does. She’s a waitress.”

Madge glared at her. “I wait on you because I love him. Not because I work here. Not even because I own the place. If I had my druthers, you’d be PNG.”

“I’d be a bank in Pittsburgh?” Josie joked, knowing full well Madge meant persona non grata.

Madge ignored her and focused on Alex. “You look like you need a thigh sandwich.”

Laura’s eyebrows shot up. “Is that chicken thighs?”

“Nope. Salmon.”

“Why do you call it a thigh sandwich, then? Fish don’t have thighs,” Alex asked, the words out of his mouth before he realized the more lascivious way one could take that phrase.

Madge gave him an evil grin. Josie elbowed him. Laura just started laughing.

Hard.

“I’ll take a grilled thigh sandwich with a side of sweet potato fries,” he announced over the giggles, some of his tense muscles melting as Madge input the order through her little electronic device. It was eight p.m. on a Tuesday night and the place was surprisingly empty. Nights like this were rare, as Caleb’s incredible cooking and the atmospheric renovations turned shabby Jeddy’s into a chic retro foodie place.

Done entering his order, Madge caught his eye again. “I had an ectopic pregnancy, you know.”

He knew, but the look on Laura’s face made it clear she didn’t. Josie startled in surprise.

“You did?”

Madge nodded. “Scared the hell out of me. I’m tough. High pain tolerance. But that pain was horrible. I’ll never forget it.”

“Did you have to have surgery?” Laura asked.

Madge nodded. “Yep. I already had my girls. While the doctor was in there, I told him to give me a tubal. He refused.”

Anger began to boil up inside Alex.

“When was this?” Josie asked. “1970s?”

“1979. I was forty-seven. Knew damn well I was done having kids. This one wasn’t expected. Blew out the one fallopian tube anyhow, so I asked the OB to fix the other one. He said I needed my husband’s approval, and when I told him what I thought about that, he just sewed me up and told me I must have been compromised from the anesthesia and not in a rational state.”

“That’s so condescending,” Josie snapped as Laura’s eyes cut over to Alex, making him feel a swirling mix of revulsion for his profession’s worst doctors and pride that most of his colleagues were far more enlightened.

“It still happens,” he said. “I had a twenty-two-year-old come to me recently, asking for a tubal. She had good reasons and understood what she wanted. Insurance refused to cover the procedure.”

“Why not?” Laura asked, earning a snort from Josie.

“Who knows?” Josie huffed. “It’s so hard to get procedures covered these days.”

“Did you do it?” Madge asked, forcing Alex to look up. “The tubal, for that kid?”

“Yes.”

“And you took her three grand?”

Answering that was hard. He wasn’t allowed to waive his fee, and he couldn’t do the procedure in the parking lot. “I connected her to a hospital social worker who was able to explain patient assistance programs. She was low-income, so the bills were covered.”

“That is wonderful!” Laura said as the electronic device in Madge’s apron pocket buzzed. Turning toward the kitchen line, Madge made her way to get what Alex assumed was his order. He felt bad not getting up and bringing it over himself, but Madge always insisted.

“Do ectopic pregnancies happen often?” Laura asked.

Josie jumped in. “About two percent of all pregnancies.”

“A hundred thousand women in the U.S. every year,” Alex added.

“So many!”

“Yes. And it’s heartbreaking,” he said with a sigh. “Patient tests positive for pregnancy. Comes in. Heartbeat detected by doppler. But then they go for an early scan, and they can’t find the fetus. More typically, they start to have symptoms that lead to finding the sac in the fallopian tube. And suddenly, a very much wanted baby has to be managed by abortion.”

“All of them?” Laura asked.

“Yes. Ectopic pregnancies are never viable. They have to be managed via medication, abortifacients, or surgery. Mothers die otherwise.”

“It’s our one night out while a babysitter watches Luci and we’re talking about this,” Josie remarked. “Aren’t we fun, Alex?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just… fresh.”

“That wasn’t a critique.” She nuzzled his shoulder. “Just an observation.”

A gorgeous panini appeared before him, the scent of lime and dill assaulting his nose, grilled onions spilling over the edges of the seared bread.

“I can’t wait to get my mouth into that thigh sandwich,” he quipped. Did Josie actually blush?

Hah. He learned new things about his wife every day.

“Speaking of much-wanted babies, how is Luci?’ Madge asked as she motioned for Laura to move over. Josie’s best friend seemed honored by Madge’s gesture, beaming at her.

“Perfect, as always,” Alex replied before taking a bite of what turned out to be honey-grilled salmon, the burst of flavors on his tongue too much to hold in. If he moaned in front of Madge, a string of orgasm jokes would be the result. Instead, he held back making a sound, but it just felt like he was edging.

Thigh sandwich edging.

As the food hit the spot, more emotionally satisfying than filling as he was just starting to eat, he felt a layer lift off his shoulders, the weight of responsibility slowly receding.

His patient was fine. Sad, but fine. She survived. He’d performed his duty.

His sworn oath.

Lots of people knew the “do no harm” part of the Hippocratic Oath, but Alex was always drawn more to another part:

I will remember that there is art to medicine as well as science, and that warmth, sympathy, and understanding may outweigh the surgeon’s knife or the chemist’s drug.

His patient had cried in his arms, her husband out of town on a business trip, unable to provide comfort for hours, until finally Alex had been off shift and come here to Jeddy’s.

He wouldn’t know how it all ended, but he hoped somewhere, a guy named Sean was stroking Claire’s hair and just holding her, the way you hold your partner after a pregnancy loss.

The way Alex had held Josie eight times.

Eight miscarriages before the one that stuck, leading to little Miss Luci, their perfect baby daughter.

As he made his way through the rest of the sandwich, Madge, Laura, and Josie talked about baby Luci. Alex’s grandpa was too far into Alzheimer’s to think of Alex and Josie’s daughter as anyone but baby Alex, often handing the baby off to Alex’s mom to tell her to breastfeed. The first time it happened, everyone was sufficiently shocked, but now it had become a ritual, a touchstone in a life that was in its sunset, intersecting with a baby whose journey had just begun.

“You’re allowed to chew, you know,” Madge needled him, refilling his water and smiling at him.

The ding of the bell over the main door made them all look up, an expression of surprise covering the face of the dark-haired, red-lipped woman entering.

“Charlotte?” Josie and Laura asked as she walked in, followed by a woman who looked like a much older version, with gray hair and bright, sharp eyes. Shorter than Charlotte, she walked with a hesitation that spoke of age or pain.

Likely a little of both.

Charlotte Greyson looked like a rockabilly pinup girl. Bright red lipstick, dark brown hair with straight-edge bangs, she wore a red dress with a wide black belt and an expression of excitement in her big, wide eyes. Normally calm and hard to fluster, she seemed different to Alex.

More emotional.

Charlotte was engaged to Liam McCarthy, one of the members of the band Random Acts of Crazy. Josie’s cousin, Darla, managed the band, though how she came to do that was quite the tale.

A tale involving stolen peyote, a naked singer hitchhiking from Massachusetts to Ohio, and a chicken named Mavis.

Alex had crossed paths with Charlotte here and there over the years, but they weren’t close by any stretch. Darla’s life bisected Josie’s on the margins, the two thick as thieves, cousins raised under tragedy back in rural Ohio. An unfortunate car accident when Josie was eleven and Darla four had changed their lives forever, both of their fathers killed, Josie’s mom a traumatic brain injury survivor.

Darla’s mom lost a foot, a husband, and half her soul that night.

“What are you all up to?” Charlotte asked with a sly grin, eyes bouncing to each person, the woman behind her giving the crowd a onceover, slow and studied.

“Eating,” Madge said, pursing her lips and narrowing her eyes. “You’re one of the band groupies, right? Seen you in here before.”

“I’m engaged to Liam, yes. Darla’s a friend. You’re Madge, right? We’ve been coming here for years.” Charlotte turned to Josie, Alex, and Laura. “This is my mom, Caitlyn.”

“Hello. Nice to meet you all,” Caitlyn said, the crisp British accent taking Alex’s already exhausted senses to a slightly surreal place. She was pleasant and polite, and looked at the spread of half-empty dishes on the table, pointing at an onion ring so big it could double as a baby’s headband. “That looks tasty.”

“It’s all tasty,” Laura groaned, patting her stomach. “That’s the problem.”

Chuckles resonated all around. Alex took the moment as an opportunity to finish the rest of his sandwich.

“Actually,” Charlotte said, eyeing him shyly, “it’s a bit of a coincidence to run into you, Alex.”

Mouth still full, he had that moment everyone experienced while dining out, where the words formed in your head but the hardware to say them was utterly occupied. Awkward silence filled the air, ballooning as each second ticked by.

“I’m sure he’d like to enjoy his time off,” Caitlyn said gently, somehow drawing a boundary without making it seem like she was shaming her daughter. As Alex chewed and held up one finger, he flashed forward to a time when he would be the graying parent and Luci would be in her early thirties, the slow tilt from child to parent wobbling on its axis.

It was a bit harder to swallow, suddenly.

Time marched on, giving love a piggyback ride.

“It’s fine,” he replied, going into physician mode, knowing that’s what Charlotte meant.

“I just came back from my hematologist.”

Caitlyn linked her arm through Charlotte’s. “We both did,” she said with a gentle laugh.

“And,” Charlotte continued, “he said there’s no reason to worry about future pregnancies. Everything’s fine.”

Josie reached for her hand and squeezed it, the gesture so out of the norm for his wife that he did a doubletake. Not exactly the warm and cuddly type, Josie was relaxed and affectionate with her inner circle.

Sharing the sad bond of multiple miscarriages must have pulled Charlotte into it.

“That’s wonderful. When you and Liam are ready,” Josie said, letting go of Charlotte’s hand. “When is the wedding?”

“In six months,” Caitlyn piped up, clearly excited. “Although I don’t know how on earth a small wedding is going to top Liam’s big proposal!”

Alex chose that moment to fill his mouth with more food and just smile, letting the others take over the conversation.

Liam McCarthy, a singer and guitar player with Random Acts of Crazy, had proposed to Charlotte on New Year’s Eve.

Plenty of people propose that night.

But he did it in Times Square. On stage.

Before billions.

Alex didn’t generally feel anxious, but the thought of that kind of public scrutiny made him a bit sick. Good for Liam.

Alex proposed to Josie in a much more intimate way, but he wasn’t judging.

Just happy everyone was getting what they wanted.

Someday, he hoped, Liam and Charlotte would overcome the two miscarriages they’d experienced, and that through good medical care, or reproductive assistance if needed, they’d have the children they wanted.

He and Josie knew all too well the long road they’d been on. Ten-month-old Luci was wonderful, and sometime next year, they hoped to give her a little brother or sister.

Eight miscarriages, though.

Eight.

Alex and Josie had gone through eight of them before little Miss Luci decided to stick around and check out this big old marble revolving around the shiny yellow ball in the sky.

Speaking of which…

“We need to get going,” Josie said sheepishly as Laura and Alex stood, Josie turning to Charlotte and Caitlyn with an apologetic look. “Our babysitter’s about to turn into a pumpkin.”

“That’s one way to butcher Cinderella,” Caitlyn replied with a grin as Madge handed her two menus and motioned to the booth next to them.

“I have to go too. Jilly has a science project tomorrow and I have to get some neon duct tape for her.”

“What’s the topic?” Charlotte asked politely.

“She has to make a replica of the respiratory system. Lungs that inflate. She insists that because lungs are pink, she needs pink duct tape.”

“What’s the tape for?” Alex asked as he pulled out his wallet and threw some twenties on the table. Madge frowned at him, but he didn’t make eye contact. If he didn’t show fear, she would take his money.

“Who knows?” Laura said with a laugh. “I’m not arguing with a headstrong ten-year-old!”

Ten.

The number hit him hard, like a sucker punch.

Had it really been ten years since he’d met Josie during little Jillian’s birth, the resident on call, so clueless and naive about what medicine and fetal-maternal care was about?

Walking into a birth with two fathers had been a shock, but it was Laura’s best friend who had truly taken him by surprise.

He’d never expected to fall in love during a birth.

But Josie was like that.

Nothing but wonderful surprises.

Every part of who he was had now become intertwined with her, his sense of identity separate, for sure, but never wholly untouched by her. Dark corners of who he was might still have some shadows to evacuate, but she knew the curves and sharp lines of every piece of him.

The next decades remaining in their journey together would deepen their understanding of each other, layer by layer, but it was much like filling in a map.

The edges were known. What remained to be explored was the detail work.

Hugs all around meant that Madge gave his cheek a paper-cold rub with her hand, and Charlotte’s mother offered a handshake, but by the time he and Josie headed out to their car, he was full of friendship and connection.

Not worry and responsibility.

“She’s fine because of you,” Josie said as they walked to their car. They still lived in Cambridge, currently hunting for a house in their price range.

Talk about unrealistic hope, but they were optimists.

Or, at least, he was.

“How do you know that I need to hear that?”

“Because you’re looping every moment of your time with that patient through your memory banks, combing over it all to make sure you met her needs.”

“I am.”

“Alex, I’ve been with you long enough to know all the ways you make yourself suffer.”

That made him stop short, looking down at her, marveling how the moon made her look like a fairy. Small-boned and childlike in some ways, she was also all granite and steel, her will a force of nature.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do I do this?” he asked as he walked around the car to the driver’s side, the two of them popping into the mid-sized sedan they’d bought a few months ago when Josie’s ancient clunker had finally died. As he started the car, he looked in the rearview mirror and frowned at his own reflection.

Tension.

His face was nothing but tension.

“Because you’re a deeply good man.”

“Look at me. We wasted our babysitter time on this. Me and work.”

“Not wasted,” she said softly, her hand on his as he shifted gears. The car was a rare one with manual transmission, and the way her palm covered the back of his hand instantly reduced his tension by half.

He could see it in his reflection.

They were twelve minutes from home, the streets fairly empty for Boston, making this so much easier.

“No, not wasted, but Josie… I want more time with you. With Luci.”

“We have way more of you now. You reworked your schedule. You’re almost underfoot,” she joked.

“I know. It just never feels like it’s enough.”

“You are enough. Always.” She squeezed his hand.

The light before them went from green to amber, and as he pressed the brake, he let himself believe her. Not one to dwell on himself too much, he lived by a code of honor that said serving others was how he felt good about himself.

When torn between patients and home, he always felt inadequate, and he hated that feeling.

On impulse, he took a right, asking Josie, “How much longer will Ivy stay with Luci?”

She gave him a sidelong glance that made him rev a little. “We could give ourselves another forty minutes or so. Why?”

“I’m thinking about a very fun way we could spend about twenty of those minutes.”

Her hand moved to his thigh. “If it’s what I think you’re thinking, you overestimate your abilities, Bucko. Give it seven minutes.”

“Seven?”

“That includes foreplay.”

“Is there a good park nearby?” he asked, searching his mental knowledge bank. When he and Josie had first met, it had been surreal when each had admitted to the other that they enjoyed what Josie called “air fucking.”

Sex outdoors.

In public.

Mostly hidden, but with the thrill of almost being caught.

It had been over a year since they’d done it, and as Josie pointed to a side street he’d never noticed before, he slowly hardened, arousal warming his skin, the barrier between him and Josie about to narrow, then close.

When he was in her, he gave freely, all his boundaries dissolved by the force of his love for her.

The intensity of his need felt like a reset, a claiming, a way to show her and himself and the world that all was right. Parking the car turned out to be easier than he though, Josie’s laughter on the light night breeze making him feel so carefree, so human, so alive.

The crush of his mouth against hers as they found a tiny alcove behind a church made his hands eager to have her naked, but that’s not how it worked outside. Pulling her neckline down, he found her braless, popping one perfect breast into his mouth, the nipple obeying his tongue’s order to tighten. Josie’s groan made him nearly come on the spot, the instant rush of passion wiping his brain of all coherent though.

In her. Now. Need warmth. Need Josie.

“You’re a fucking iron rod,” she gasped against his ear as her hand stroked his shaft, then she unbuttoned his fly with one hand. How she did that was a mystery, but he was so grateful.

Beyond grateful.

“And you’re about to come all over me while I prop you against this wall,” he replied, her legs wrapped around him, one arm and hand on her ass enough to hold her up.

“Put me down so I can pull these pants down.”

Thank God for leggings.

Second later, she was in his arms again, back against the wall, the moon shining behind him, their shadows moving fast and hard, as if racing them to the climax. He licked her neck and tasted salt. She bit his jaw and her teeth scraped against his five o’clock shadow.

His orgasm was there, fast and shuddering, the sensation dizzyingly speedy and making it hard to breath. Josie clamped down on him, her fingers digging into his bare ass, the tips brushing against his tight sac, the touch making him groan.

No condom. No diaphragm. No birth control at all. After years of trying for Luci, why bother?

And it made spontaneous moments like this so much easier, even if they never had the time or bandwidth anymore.

Josie nipped his neck and curled her fingers into his shoulder blades as she came, the tight silence of her deep orgasms worthy of his awe. She went inward, always, her sexual pleasure still a mystery, but knowing he gave her that meant the world.

“Come, Josie,” he murmured as he moved his hand between them, finding her clit, her unexpected cry of ecstasy making him smile. She writhed under him, but he enjoyed bringing her to new heights, their lovemaking these days more love than making, more simple than sensual.

Good enough, but not this.

They needed more of this.

She reached forward and bit his shoulder as she rode his hand and cock at the same time, his ass and thighs moving to stay in concert, the rhythm making him wish he could come more than once too. The female body was a wonder in that sense; so complex, so nuanced.

So misunderstood.

“Alex, I—” Her moans grew louder and he realized they’d draw attention soon, his hand moving from her clit to her mouth as he thrust deeper, moving up, hitting the spot he knew would make her world collapse into the nothingness of release.

As she came and rasped into his hand, he was vaguely aware that she was biting him.

Her pussy was so tight it nearly took him with her wherever she was right now.

So close, but not quite.

Watching her in the throes of sex made him feel like he’d served her well, done a fine job of helping her access a piece of herself she could only find with his help.

Plus, it felt fucking amazing.

“Well,” she muttered around his hand, which he slowly peeled from her mouth. “Apparently, we are still very good at doing that.”

He thrust into her, his body tight as she pulsed around him, grinding hard until his own release was right there, forceful and a little too fast, the excitement of sex in public making it simultaneously a victory and so damn hot. Breathing against her neck, his forehead pressed into the wall, his thighs propped them both up, his arms tensed.

Hands always on her, never on the brick. Surgeons always protected their hands.

“I don’t think it’s something you forget,” he finally answered, his voice hoarse, his waist cold from being bare

“No, but my hips are rusty, and you forgot to pull my shirt down, so my back now looks like an old coffee table being sandblasted before a fresh layer of varnish.”

He gently pulled out of her and set her down. They each righted their clothes, then looked at each other. A fine blush pinkened Josie’s cheeks, and her face was filled with a happiness he hadn’t seen in a long time.

Shared fun mattered too. Mattered as much as meeting obligations and being dependable.

Might matter even more.

Bzzz.

It was Josie.

“That’s Ivy. Just making sure we’ll be back in time.”

“Will we?”

She looked at her clock. “Hah. Six minutes. Told you.”

“That was round one.”

“You expect a round two?”

“I expect nothing, Josie. I’m just happy when life gives me more of you.”

As she stood on tiptoes for a kiss, he let himself get lost in her embrace, turning into nothing but air.

EVERY DAY, Alex was grateful for what life had given him, for however hard the struggle had been. The only child of a mother who had him the summer after graduating high school, he’d been abandoned by his father, raised by his loving Armenian-American family in Watertown, Massachusetts. Grandpa Ed was Alex’s father, for all the important purposes, and as he and Josie checked on sleeping Luci, her little, soft snuffly sounds a direct line to his heart, Alex was awash in a level of appreciation for the good things in life that he’d never felt before.

Peak gratitude.

The afterglow of their outdoors quickie, the exhaustion of a long shift, the beauty of holding his daughter in his arms—it all felt connected, each strand of life blending into the other; the good, the bad, the tragic, the joyful.

All he could do was be a peaceful witness to each person’s journey and honor who they were.

And that, he realized, was more than enough.

To read more about Alex, Josie, Laura, Madge, Charlotte, Caitlyn, and Julia Kent’s worlds, go to http://www.jkentauthor.com and start with the Her Billionaires series. An ongoing series since 2012, the sprawling world intertwines three different series (Her Billionaires, Random, Obedient), but you can just start with book 1 and go from there.

Happy reading. ;)

COME AWAY WITH ME

A MISFIT INN SHORT STORY

KAIT NOLAN

“TO MOSES LINDSEY! Best interim sous pastry chef since… well, me.” With a grin, Tennille Sterling lifted their martini glass high. The frothy, orangey-pink liquid inside caught the light.

The man of the hour lifted his own glass to join in the toast with his coworkers from Délicieux. His pint of Deuchars IPA tasted as bittersweet as this last outing. Over the past couple of months, he’d grown attached to all of them. From Tennille, with their wicked sense of humor, spiked blonde hair, and unparalleled skill with caramel, to Antonia Hawthorne, who ran the front of the patisserie with flawless style and service from the wheelchair they all knew perfectly well was her throne, to shy Marcella Creevy, the intern from Manchester, who’d started right before he had and was only just now coming out of her shell.

And then there was her. Zuri Patil. Executive pastry chef and the genius behind Délicieux. Moses had been crushing on her professionally long before they ever met, being absolutely in awe of the confections that emerged from her Edinburgh kitchen. But working side-by-side with her, he’d gotten to know the woman herself. Warm and vivacious, she ran her patisserie like a family, and absolutely nothing could convince him that all that love wasn’t what made her pastries taste so damned good. She sparkled, and it showed in the depths of her espresso-colored eyes and the easy flash of her smile.

Was it any wonder he was half in love with her?

Not that he’d done anything about it. He’d known his time in Scotland was temporary. Just the latest stop in a once-in-a-lifetime, year-long trek around the world, studying with some of the best pastry chefs in the business. And even if it hadn’t been, she deserved better than the likes of him—an ex-con who’d learned the basis of his trade in a prison kitchen.

He’d come a long damned way from that guy, but he understood there were limits to how high he could rise. Because of the second chance he’d been given by Chef Athena Reynolds at her Michelin-starred restaurant, Olympus, in Chicago, he’d already done more and come further than he’d ever dreamed he could, and he was grateful for that every day. She’d become so much more than a boss over the years. She was one of his closest friends. But she’d moved on from Olympus and helped him arrange this tour of kitchens. The tour was coming to an end, so it was time for him to move on, too. Tomorrow. For tonight, he didn’t want to think about his impending flight back to the U.S. He just wanted to enjoy the company and soak up as much of Zuri’s warmth as he could before he returned to his pre-furnished flat for the last time.

Antonia set her empty glass on the table with a thunk and eyed the club. “I’m going back to the bar to convince that very fine lad in the leather vest he wants to buy me a drink. Does anybody need anything?”

“I’m good on libations, but I need to move,” Tennille declared. “C’mon, Marcella. We’re going to dance.” Without waiting for her acquiescence, they pulled her out onto the dance floor, leaving Moses alone with his boss.

Zuri wasn’t sparkling tonight. Those melted chocolate eyes seemed outright sad, which was a nice boost to his ego, even as he wanted to do what he could to make it better.

“You okay?”

She tapped a finger against the copper mug holding her Moscow Mule. “I am not. You’re going home, and I don’t know what we’re going to do without you.”

“We” not “I.” It was a good reminder that theirs was a professional friendship.

“Find another sous chef, I imagine. Délicieux was doing just fine before I stepped into your kitchen. It’ll do just fine without me.”

Zuri scowled, which wrinkled her adorable button nose and made her look like nothing so much as an angry Indian sprite. Did they even have something like sprites in Indian culture? Moses wasn’t sure.

“It won’t be the same. You’re different.” She lifted her gaze to his. “Special.”

Because his heart began to trip, Moses took another sip of his beer. She didn’t mean it like it sounded.

“You’re brilliant. I’m sure you won’t have any trouble finding someone else who wants to learn from you. I know this has been, by far, my most educational stop on this culinary tour.” And he’d take all those lessons home to his next posting. Whatever that might end up being.

She didn’t seem pleased with the compliment. “That’s not the point. They won’t have your sense of humor or your sense of calm. You showed up, and everything just clicked into place in the kitchen. I didn’t even know anything was missing until you did. And now… I just wish we had more time.”

But they were out of time. He wouldn’t be going back to the patisserie before his flight tomorrow. They only had tonight to say their goodbyes. And if a part of him wished that was somewhere other than a noisy pub in Cowgate, well, he wasn’t gonna go ruin two months of good behavior now.

Moses lifted his glass for another toast. “To an unforgettable experience and an equally unforgettable baker.”

After only a moment’s hesitation, Zuri clinked her drink to his. “Same.” She drained the last of the Moscow Mule and slapped the mug on the table. “Do you want to dance?”

He should say no. Dancing with her was just going to fuel fantasies about something he couldn’t have. But he couldn’t bring himself to do anything other than rise and hold out his hand. The slim fingers that slid into his were cold. Moses fought the urge to warm them and instead led her out on the dance floor, using his bigger bulk to weave a path through the crowd. The song changed as they found an open spot, the up-tempo dance beats giving way to something slow and sensual.

Zuri didn’t balk, just moved into him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Moses swallowed hard. They’d worked shoulder-to-shoulder often. He’d learned from her, talked to her, and laughed with her. But he’d never held her before. She topped out at his shoulder, so she had to tip her head back to look up at him. Those eyes snared him, and his fingers itched to comb through all that thick, black, curly hair she so rarely wore down. Instead, he held on, struggling to be respectful, while still painfully aware that she was a woman, with softness and curves in all the right places.

They swayed to the beat. Her mammoth sigh pressed her breasts against his chest, and Moses began to count backward from a thousand in increments of seven. If Zuri noticed she didn’t let on.

“I’m going to miss the hell out of you. You’ve really become a part of the shop and part of our team over the past couple of months.”

“I’m gonna miss y’all, too.” That truth was easy to admit. He’d loved every minute of his time at Délicieux.

A dimple fluttered in one cheek. “Everybody?”

“Sure. Everybody.” And in the false intimacy of the dance, he admitted, “Especially you.”

Relief and pleasure lit her gaze for an instant before hardening into something that looked a hell of a lot like resolve. The hand on his shoulder slid around to cup his nape, and she rose to her toes, pressing her lips to his in a soft, questioning kiss. Ignoring every alarm bell clanging in his brain, Moses curved around her, pulling her body flush to his. This was all they could have, but God, it was worth it to satisfy his curiosity. Angling his head, he answered by tracing the seam of her lips with his tongue until she opened for him. She tasted of ginger and lime and an indefinable sweetness that had to just be her. Complex and lovely, as all her confections were.

The moment and the kiss spun out until someone bumped into him, jostling him out of his stupor. Moses lifted his head, realizing the music had changed back to something fast and rowdy. They stood in the middle of the dance floor, breathing hard, staring at each other. Zuri’s lips were pink and a little swollen from his. Her fingers flexed at his nape before she slowly dropped back to her feet.

“I know you’re leaving tomorrow, but I had to know.”

“Know what?” His voice came out like gravel.

“If it would be as good as I imagined between us.”

Her answer didn’t matter, but he couldn’t resist asking the question. “And?”

Regret tinged the smile he loved. “Better.”

Moses indulged himself, skimming his fingers across her cheek and through that thick mass of silky hair, committing the textures to memory. “You’re amazing, and you deserve a lot better than me.”

A furrow dug in between her brows. She opened her mouth, clearly prepared to argue the point, but he stepped back.

“I think I should go.” He lifted her hand to his lips, brushing a soft kiss over her knuckles. “Thank you for everything. I’ll never forget it. Or you.”

Trailing his thumb over her fingers one last time, he released her and walked away, regretting every step.

AS THE MIRROR glaze on her opera cake slid right off the top to pool in an iridescent puddle that looked more like an oil slick than the galaxy she’d been going for, Zuri snarled a string of curses.

The kitchen door swung open, and Antonia rolled in. “Okay, look, you’ve really got to do something about this.”

“About what?” In an ill-tempered huff, Zuri slid the entire cake into the bin.

Antonia just arched one perfectly tweezed auburn brow above her black-framed glasses. “Really?”

“What?” She didn’t need this. She had to start all over on this opera cake because she’d made careless mistakes. She never made careless mistakes. Or hadn’t before the last few weeks.

“You’re seriously going to deny that you still have a thing for Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome who went home to the U.S. a month ago?”

Heat bloomed in Zuri’s cheeks. She’d said nothing to her staff about her interest in Moses. But as she’d known it would, the kitchen felt different without him in it. And she hated it. “What does Moses have to do with anything?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you’ve been a bear since he left? And I don’t mean the adorable teddy kind.”

From her prep station, Marcella lifted her head. “We all miss him.”

Zuri lifted her hands and dropped them again in defeat. She had been in a shite mood since he’d walked away from her that last night. She didn’t know what she’d been thinking when she kissed him. Maybe that he’d be so overwhelmed by their chemistry that he couldn’t help but change his mind and all his plans and stay.

Of course, he hadn’t done that. And that’s what she got for waiting until the absolute last minute to do anything about the attraction that had simmered during their time together. But she’d been his boss. There were boundaries that shouldn’t be crossed.

And you didn’t ask him to stay.

That thought had haunted her every freaking night. But how could she ask that of him when he’d so quickly shut anything down? It was the nicest rejection she’d ever experienced. Damn him. Now he was gone, and she was afraid she couldn’t look at her beloved kitchen the same.

But her staff didn’t deserve to bear the brunt of that poor decision.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Be brave,” Antonia insisted.

Before Zuri could ask what the hell Antonia thought she should do about it, the back door swung open and Tennille strode in. Excited energy practically crackled around them as they hung up their messenger bag and snagged their chef’s jacket off a peg on the wall.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Zuri observed.

“Did your date with that rugby player turn into a long weekend?” Antonia waggled her eyebrows.

Tennille clutched their chest in a mock swoon. “Yes. And it was glorious. But that’s not what has me excited.”

“Don’t keep us in suspense.” Marcella perched on a stool, assuming the position for the spilling of the tea.

Swinging toward Zuri, Tennille pressed their lips together, as if bracing themselves. “Darling, I’m going to need you to sit down.”

And Zuri knew. Her stomach pitched and everything in her revolted. She gripped a kitchen towel in both hands. “Don’t tell me you’re leaving, too.”

Tennille gently extracted the towel from her death grip and took her hands, tugging her into a hug. “You knew this was coming. That I’ve been interviewing. This is an opportunity for my own kitchen. Head pastry chef at a five-star hotel. It’s my dream.”

It was what Zuri had been training them for. But she hadn’t expected things to change this fast. “I know. God, I know. And of course you should take it. But I just—” She sniffed. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without you, too.”

As one, her entire staff chorused, “You’re going to call him.”

Zuri gave Tennille the side eye. “You weren’t even here for that discussion.”

“I’m not blind. You’re utterly miserable without him. When I go, you’ll have a free position and the money to bring someone else in. I think you know very well who that should be.”

Her heart began to pound as she considered it. Her sous chef wasn’t wrong. Them leaving gave her staffing budget the latitude it hadn’t had. And bringing on another pastry chef as talented as the one she was losing could open up additional business opportunities. She could see how it might work. But would Moses be willing to come back? It was one thing to take a deliberate year off to travel and train. Would he want to pick up and leave everything he knew of his life in the States and truly move to Scotland?

“We haven’t even texted or emailed since he left.”

“And whose fault is that?” Antonia demanded.

Zuri opened her mouth and closed it again. She’d been waiting for him to contact her. Hoping for some sign that he missed her. But maybe he’d been waiting for the same. Or maybe he’d determined that cutting off contact entirely would be easier to handle than the reminders of what he clearly believed they couldn’t have.

“What would I even say?”

“‘Tennille got a new job. We miss you. Please come back to work with us and so I can jump your bones,’” Marcella declared.

Zuri’s mouth dropped open, and Tennille and Antonia all but brayed with laughter.

“Oh ho! Our shy girl isn’t so shy anymore. I approve.” Antonia rolled over and gave her a high five.

Marcella jerked her shoulders. “We were all thinking it. Especially since we all saw that kiss the night he left.”

Tennille nodded. “True story.”

Zuri’s mouth fell open. None of them had said a word about seeing the kiss. But she had chosen the middle of a crowded dance floor to do it, so what did she expect?

“Okay, okay, fine. But I can’t just dump that in a text.”

“Email. Phone call. Zoom. There are options. Just say you’ll do something. I’m begging you, Z.” Antonia folded her hands in supplication.

Zuri checked the clock and did some quick math. Nine in the morning in the States. Before she could talk herself out of it, she picked up her phone and scrolled to a familiar contact. It rang twice before a distracted voice picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Zuri. I need a favor.”

MOSES STEPPED through the automatic doors at the McGhee Tyson Airport in Knoxville, waiting a moment for his eyes to adjust to the sudden glare of the Southern sun. A piercing whistle drew his attention down the curb to a familiar figure with long brown hair and a mile-wide smile.

“You are a sight for sore eyes!” Chef Athena Reynolds Maxwell opened her arms wide.

Moses walked straight into them, giving her a big squeeze. “It’s good to see you, Chef.”

“Oh, come on now. We’re not in a kitchen, and you don’t work for me anymore.”

“Old habits.” He stepped back to take her in.

The soft, plaid flannel shirt was rolled to her elbows, and faded, well-worn jeans covered her long legs. The boots she wore looked comfortable and broken-in and were so far from how she’d dressed in Chicago, he almost laughed.

“Your Tennessee is showing.”

“As well it should. You forget, underneath all the training, I’m a farm girl at heart.”

“It looks good on you.” She was put together and comfortable in her skin in a way she hadn’t been all those years in Chicago.

“Let’s get your bag in the trunk and get out of here before somebody starts honking that I’m taking up space at the curb.”

She led him over to a massive SUV and popped the liftgate.

Moses stared. “You have a mom car now.”

“Necessary evil between the dogs and the kids. Gotta have room tote people and stuff.”

He loaded his carry-on and settled in the front passenger seat. “How are the boys?”

“Growing like weeds. Dylan’s already taller than me, and Jesse’s not far behind. They wanted to come with me to pick you up, but I wanted you all to myself, so Logan’s keeping them occupied on the farm.”

Athena had come a long damned way from her reputation as a female Gordon Ramsey. She’d been brilliant but temperamental in the kitchen, and that perfectionist streak had earned her a Michelin star and a James Beard Award when she’d been barely twenty-six. Now she was married, and she and her husband had adopted two boys. Moses would never have thought this life would suit her down to the ground if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes.

“You look happy. It’s good to see.”

Her smile flashed again. “I am happy. Of course, Logan and the boys have a lot to do with it. And who would’ve imagined I’d love being a mom to two teenagers? But it’s not just love and family. I finally figured out the life I wanted, and I built it. On my terms. There was a lot of shit to overcome, and I overcame it. So yeah, I am happy.” She glanced over from the driver’s seat. “Now it’s your turn to do the same.”

Moses stretched his legs. “Tall order.”

“I was hoping that this last year of travel was really going to give you some direction about what you want to do next.”

His mind shot straight to Scotland, to the little patisserie just off Princes Street. Zuri wasn’t an option. Délicieux wasn’t an option. So, he avoided the question.

“The trip was incredible. I met so many awesome people and learned so much. And I got to visit all these countries, all these places, I never imagined I’d get to see. I owe that to you. To your connections.”

“I just made the introductions. It was your talent that got you in the door. Same as it did at Olympus.”

“Well, either way, thank you. I appreciate it.”

Her shoulders twitched, betraying her discomfort with gratitude. “So, what’s next? You’ve been back for a bit over a month.”

Wasn’t that the million-dollar question? “I’m still figuring that out. I’ve been doing some temp work, filling in at various restaurants around Chicago while I send out resumes and start trying to figure out where I might like to go.”

“You want to leave Chicago?”

“It’s not the same since you left. I’d definitely like a new scene, so I’m applying all over the place.”

“Oh yeah? Any offers yet?”

“A couple I should really consider.”

“Should? What’s stopping you?”

“Well, thanks to you, for the first time in my life, I’m not in a position where I have to take the first thing that’s offered. I can actually think about what I want, long-term. I definitely don’t take that privilege for granted.”

“Fair enough. It’s a good place to be in. And hopefully, while you’re in town visiting me, you’ll have some time to do that thinking.”

“That is the plan.”

“I am going to make you work for your keep,” Athena warned. “I want you as a guest on The Misfit Kitchen.”

Part of that life Athena had built for herself was a wildly successful web series, where she featured both the produce and meats from her husband’s huge organic farm. The show made farm-to-table cooking feel accessible to regular folks. She’d used it to launch a recent cookbook around the same theme and regularly had guests on to join her in the specially built studio kitchen.

“You know I’ll never turn down a chance to cook with you.” And maybe getting in the kitchen with her again would give him some clarity.

With a grin, she offered her fist for a bump.

They talked the entire two-hour drive back to Eden’s Ridge.

When she bypassed the turn to The Misfit Inn, the bed-and-breakfast run by the rest of her sisters, he straightened. “Am I not staying at the inn?”

“Of course not. You’re family. You’re gonna stay at the farm with the rest of us.”

It wasn’t the first time she’d called him family, but the sentiment always gave him a feeling of warm, gooey caramel in his chest. His relationship with his own family hadn’t been great before his stint in prison for the mere crime of being a black man in the wrong place at the wrong time. His attempts to mend that connection when he got out hadn’t been met with welcome, so he’d leaned into the found family of restaurant life.

He thought again of the one he’d left behind in Edinburgh, wondering how everyone was doing. Had Antonia actually gotten a date with the bookshop clerk she’d been crushing on? Was Marcella still coming out of her shell? Had Tennille had any luck with their interviews? Was Zuri missing him?

He didn’t know any of it.

He could ask. In fact, he felt kind of like a dick for not asking. But keeping up would’ve been too hard, made him too homesick for a place that hadn’t been home for more than a couple of months. That was his story, and he was sticking to it.

He’d give it some time and then reach out later, when he was settled, to give everybody the update and see what was going on with them. They’d understand. And by then, maybe he’d have stopped aching from missing them all.

“YOU OKAY?”

Zuri looked up from the cup of tea in her hands. “What?”

On the other side of the counter in the big farmhouse kitchen of The Misfit Inn, Rachel McCleary, the in-house baker, offered a sympathetic smile. “A lot on your mind. Do you prefer to feed the nerves or starve them? I’ve got a batch of chocolate chunk cookie dough on standby for afternoon snacks later. I can totally throw some in the oven.”

Rachel, like all the other Misfit Inn staff—most of whom were related to Athena one way or another—had been nothing but warm and welcoming since her arrival the day before. Zuri genuinely liked the woman and appreciated the fact that she hadn’t minded Zuri camping out in her kitchen all morning while waiting for her guest slot on The Misfit Kitchen. Like everyone else, she’d been filled in about the plan and was fully supportive.

“Oh, thank you, but no. I couldn’t possibly eat right now.” Apparently, she couldn’t drink either. The tea had gone tepid.

“I get it. It took half a magnum of champagne for me to work up the courage to make the move with Jonah.”

Zuri eyed her. “How’d that go?”

Rachel winced. “Messy. But worth it in the end.” She lifted her left hand to flash a sparkly engagement ring.

Marriage. A life. Those were all huge commitments. “Oh, well. That’s getting rather ahead of things.” She was just here for a chance to see where things could go. She couldn’t expect more than that.

“My point is that you never know how it’s going to turn out until you ask. And it’s worth the ask.”

With a slow exhale, Zuri set her mug aside. “Well, that’s why I’m here.” And she certainly wasn’t going to chicken out after flying across an ocean to see him.

“This is so romantic!” With a feigned swoon, Athena’s niece, Ari, dropped into another seat at the table. The teenager had appointed herself General upon Zuri’s arrival and was organizing everything. When Zuri had questioned Athena about it, she’d shrugged and said the kid had a good track record with her and all of her sisters and then some, and had advised just rolling with the whims of the resident matchmaker. It wasn’t like Zuri had better ideas.

“Well, I really hope he doesn’t freak out about being ambushed.”

“He won’t,” Ari assured her. “Moses is a really laid-back guy. And he’s going to be so excited to see you!”

Feeling about sixteen again herself, Zuri straightened. “Did he say something?”

“Well, I haven’t actually seen him since he got in yesterday, but I know he will. You two are gonna be so cute together!” Her phone buzzed, and she glanced at the readout. “Okay, you gotta put your game face on. My cousin Dylan just texted to say they’re wrapping up breakfast. That means they’ll be incoming in about half an hour. I’m gonna take you over to the studio so our camera guy can walk you through everything.”

“All right.” Zuri pressed a hand to her middle, wishing desperately for a batch of ginger biscuits and her mother’s chai to settle her stomach.

Rachel offered a double thumbs up. “Good luck!”

Zuri’s answering smile was more of a grimace. She followed Ari out the back door and down a brick path that led to the building housing The Misfit Kitchen. With curiosity, Zuri took in what her former classmate from Le Cordon Bleu had created. The kitchen itself wasn’t huge. It didn’t need to be with just Athena and a guest or two. The interior was made up of exposed brick walls and a lot of wood and stainless steel. It was homey, comfortable, with excellent lighting, as any good kitchen ought to have. A young twenty-something guy fiddled with settings on a camera from his perch in the large open space in front of the kitchen. A few large tables were folded and stacked against one wall, and she remembered that Athena also taught some small cooking classes.

“Zuri, this is Scott, our cameraman and jack of all trades. He’s going to fit you up with a mic. Scott, this is one of our guests today, Zuri Patil.”

The guy flashed a grin. “Nice to meet you, Chef. Have you ever been on camera before?”

Camera. She’d known she’d be on camera when she’d asked Athena to do this. But somehow, she’d convinced herself she could talk her friend into tossing the footage. This didn’t sound like that. “Uh, no.”

“No worries. I’ll just go over a few things about how all this will work.”

Zuri listened as Scott explained how to control the mic pack and where the cameras would be located. He outlined what would be expected of her, and she tried to soak it all in, but her mind was buzzing like a swarm of bees.

“Most of all, don’t get nervous. This isn’t running live, so if something doesn’t go as expected, you’ll have plenty of opportunity to try again.”

But as Scott set her up in the kitchen doing test runs to check lighting and sound levels, Zuri could only think that this was her one shot. She’d blown the opportunity she’d had while Moses had been in Edinburgh by sitting on her feelings. And in the six weeks since, she hadn’t done a damned thing to let him know the kiss had been more than simple curiosity. He’d had all this time to apply for other positions. What if he’d already accepted another job? What if he didn’t want what she’d come here to offer? If Moses didn’t jump today, she didn’t think she’d get another chance.

“Okay, people! They are officially on their way,” Ari announced. “Zuri, it’s time for you to hide. You remember what I told you about your cue?”

Because nerves had dried all the saliva in her mouth, she just nodded.

Ari took both her hands and squeezed. “It’s going to be great. You’re going to do great, and he’s not gonna know what hit him.”

That was part of what she was afraid of. But she followed the teenager back to her designated hiding spot to wait. When the girl left her, Zuri crossed her fingers and toes and prayed this all went as well as she hoped.

MOSES STOOD PATIENTLY while Camera Guy Scott attached his mic pack.

“Since you’re the guest, the intention is for me to be your sous chef,” Athena explained. “You’ll be instructing.”

He grinned. “Just think… I could use this as payback for all that time at Olympus.”

With feigned insult, she pressed a hand to her heart. “I was the soul of patience.”

Athena’s niece, Ari, snorted with unrestrained laughter. Moses just arched a knowing brow. Athena was many things. Patient had never been one of them.

“Literally nobody believes that,” Ari stated.

“Tiny speaks the truth.” Moses held up a hand, and the girl slapped it in a high five.

“Lies,” Athena declared. “Both of you. Remember, I have final say about what makes the cut. I can put in all your kitchen goofs, or I can make you look like a kitchen god.”

“With great power comes great responsibility.” He looked around, absorbing the inherent welcome of the space and noting the placement of tools and staples. “This’ll be a lot different from cooking at Olympus, anyway.”

She hooked on her own mic pack. “That it is. Is this something you might consider? You could always start your own web show, even if it’s not intended to be a job necessarily. TikTok is huge these days. Is it something you think would be fun?”

“I have no idea. I like sharing my love of food, but I’m not sure how I feel about the format. I guess we’ll see. Why?”

She kicked back against the counter and jerked her shoulders. “Just curious. You’ve been pastry chef at Olympus, worked in hotel kitchens, made bread from wheat you harvested and ground yourself, been sous chef to several dedicated patisseries. At this point, you’ve done a little bit of everything in the world of pastry. What was your favorite?”

“The patisseries, hands down. I loved working with you, but some of the other dynamics of restaurant life are not my bag. I prefer the hours of a baker over the kind of hours we kept at Olympus. It’s just a different vibe that works better for me. Less stress.”

“You think you might want to open your own place?”

“I don’t know. Seems like that would take a lot of capital I definitely don’t have. Plus, I like working with other people. I like the camaraderie and the friendships of the kitchen. You know?”

“Definitely. Why do you think I keep bringing people on as guests? I miss cooking with other professionals. What was your favorite stop on your travels? Your favorite kitchen to work in?”

“Scotland. I loved working at Délicieux in Edinburgh.” Even he could hear the wistfulness in his voice.

“You really loved it over there, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. A lot more than I thought I would.” A chuckle rumbled through his chest. “Not something you’d expect from a guy who grew up in the less savory parts of Atlanta.”

“You’re way more than your beginnings. And anyway, it was good experience and will look fantastic on your resume. In light of that, I’ve got a potential job offer from another friend of mine for you to throw in the hopper for consideration.”

“Oh? I mean, I’m certainly open to talking about it. I’m all about welcoming new opportunities.”

She briskly rubbed her hands together. “Excellent.”

Noting the twinkle in her gray eyes, he narrowed his. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing.”

“I know that twinkle.” She was plotting something. In the old days, that had been far more likely to be kitchen pranks. Now, he wasn’t sure what to expect.

Athena just grinned and waved him off. “We’ll talk about it later. Meanwhile, we’ve got to get rolling.”

“Fair enough.” After the show, he’d pin her down and get to the bottom of whatever was cooking in that devious brain of hers.

He took his place on the mark Scott directed him to and waited for his cue.

“Welcome back to The Misfit Kitchen! I’m Athena Reynolds, and today I’m joined by one of my dearest friends, Moses Lindsey. Not only is he an incredibly talented pastry chef and the brilliant mind behind most of the original desserts at my restaurant Olympus, he’s one of the nicest guys I know.”

Moses flashed a smile at the camera. “Thanks for having me, Chef.”

“In addition to Moses, I have yet another surprise for you viewers at home. An old classmate of mine from back in Paris, she’s come a very, very long way to be a guest on the show today.”

Moses’s heart began to thud because that twinkle in her eye was amplified, and it suddenly looked a whole lot like the one Ari regularly sported. Usually when matchmaking was afoot.

“Please welcome the executive pastry chef from Délicieux in Edinburgh, Scotland, Zuri Patil!”

He tried to look everywhere at once, not knowing where she’d come from or whether this was some kind of joke.

It definitely wasn’t a joke.

She emerged from the emergency exit tucked behind the pantry, dressed in trim black pants and one of the flowy patterned tops she favored when she wasn’t in her chef’s jacket. Her hair was down, curling around her shoulders, as it had been that last night. She joined them at the long counter, tossing an absent wave in the direction of the camera, but her eyes—those wonderful, dark chocolate eyes—stayed fixed on his. A hopeful smile curved her lips. “Hello, Moses.”

His brain decided that moment was the perfect time to replay every nanosecond of their kiss and how she’d felt in his arms, the softness of her skin and the silkiness of that hair.

“Zuri.”

They stared at each other, and his hands flexed to keep from reaching for her. He didn’t know how to greet her after how they’d parted. She was right there. Close enough to touch. Staring at him with what he hoped was as much hunger as he felt.

“As you may have surmised, Moses and Zuri spent some time working together, and we here at The Misfit Kitchen thought it would be fun to give them a chance to cook together again.”

Athena’s voice finally pulled his attention away from the woman who’d haunted his dreams. His friend was completely and totally smirking. He’d kill her later. After he hugged her neck.

“Shall we get started, you two?”

They both turned their focus back to her.

“Yes, Chef.”

ZURI WONDERED if her nerves were painted all over her face for the camera to see. She couldn’t quite read Moses. It seemed as if he was excited and happy to see her. She thought she saw that instinctive recognition and jump of pleasure, but she couldn’t say for sure that it wasn’t her own wishful thinking.

“Well, Chefs, what are we making today?”

Apparently easier with the camera than she was, he turned toward Athena.

“Well, we’ve got this basket full of gorgeous apples from Whitaker Orchards, here in Eden’s Ridge.” He picked one up and tossed it so the beautiful, unblemished golden skin caught the light. “These are Golden Delicious apples, which stay pretty firm, so they hold up beautifully to baking. They’re great pie apples, and if it was just me, I’d probably go for a Dutch apple pie. But I know how much Zuri loves caramel.” Apple in hand, he caught her eye and winked.

Her belly jumped. Was he flirting? She could do this. Talk about the food they both loved on camera. “You’re thinking tarte tatin.”

“It’s one of your favorites.”

It was. That he’d chosen that said something. Didn’t it? That he knew her at the very least.

“It is. One of the beautiful things about tarte tatin is that it’s incredibly forgiving. No matter how it looks when it comes out, it will taste divine.”

“Tarte tatin it is,” Moses confirmed.

They were on the same page in this, at least. “I’ll get the flour to start the pastry. Athena, where’s your food processor?”

Once the ingredients were gathered, Zuri lost herself in the process of cooking, pausing now and again to explain what she was doing. By the time she’d placed the plastic-wrapped pastry dough in the fridge, Moses was grabbing a knife and describing the best way to peel and core the apples. As he talked, Zuri moved around him, pulling together the components of the caramel sauce. This was what she’d missed. This familiar rhythm of dancing with him in a kitchen.

She melted the butter in a skillet over medium-high heat, then reached for the sugar. Moses was there, handing it over, his big hand brushing hers. To anyone watching, it would’ve appeared casual. An accident. But Zuri knew the touch was deliberate. They’d spent two months never touching, never pushing the envelope. So that simple, easy contact had gooseflesh rippling up her arm, bringing with it a profound physical awareness of his proximity. His size. He was a big man, who moved with an unexpected grace she’d always found absurdly attractive.

Somehow, she didn’t drop the sugar. Only flashed him a smile as she added it to the skillet and began to stir. Once the mixture began to bubble, Moses stepped close to add the apples, his chest pressing against her back as he reached around her. Zuri sucked in a breath and forced herself not to lean back against him. They walked through the rest of the process, cooking down the apples until they were caramelized and the sauce had darkened to a deep amber. She’d outright forgotten about Athena until the other woman brought out the prepared round of pastry dough. With quick efficiency, Moses turned all the apples curved side down and arranged them in concentric circles. Then Zuri draped the round of dough over the top of the pan, carefully tucking the edges and pricking it with a fork before sliding the whole thing into the preheated oven and setting the timer for twenty-five minutes.

“And cut!” Scott announced. “We’ll come back in twenty to film the finished product.”

“Synchronize your watches, people.” Athena set the timer on hers, then snagged Ari and Scott. “We’re just gonna leave y’all to talk.”

The three of them were gone almost before Zuri could blink. Then she was alone in the kitchen with Moses for the first time. The nerves came back with a vengeance. She stared at him, having no idea what to say or where to start.

He had no such problem. “What are you doing here?”

Because his tone was mostly disbelief and wonder, Zuri relaxed a fraction, twitching her shoulders in a shrug that suggested more ease than she felt. “I missed you.” It was the absolute truth. “Nothing’s been the same since you left. So, I called Athena and arranged all of this to see you again. I wanted the chance to say what I didn’t say before you left.”

He didn’t come any closer, but she sensed the tension in his big frame. “What’s that?”

She swallowed, aware her hands were trembling. This was the moment. The chance she’d gone to all this trouble to make. She couldn’t chicken out now. “Don’t leave. I want you to stay. Or, rather, I want you to come back to Edinburgh. Come work with me.”

Did he understand what she was asking? It was vital that she made it clear she wanted him to work with her, not for her. No more problematic power dynamics. No more boss-employee relationship. “Tennille is leaving to go work their dream job in a five-star hotel kitchen. There’s a big hole in mine. And, in truth, there was a hole before Tennille got the job. I need someone I trust to partner with me. I want it to be you. If that’s something you want.”

She’d been so sure when she’d made the call and got on the plane. Her whole trip had been full of plans and dreams of how it would be. She had only to ask him, as she should’ve done weeks ago.

But his dark face didn’t change expressions. He barely even blinked. The total lack of reaction had fresh anxiety spooling in her chest. What if she wasn’t enough? What if she’d come all this way and laid out her heart for nothing? What if she’d misread the entire situation?

Zuri didn’t know how she’d even finish out the episode, let alone the rest of the trip. As the silence spun out, past shock and directly into awkward, she wondered if she could change her return flight to tonight because she couldn’t stay here one minute more if his answer was a rejection.

MOSES WAS REELING. Zuri had flown all this way, gone to all this trouble, and she’d just offered him his dream job, working with her, giving him the chance to go back to his favorite place to work with some of his favorite people. But it was too good to be true. The latest in a line of things that had happened to him that felt too good to be true. Her even being here didn’t feel real. Her coming for him on a personal front didn’t feel real either, but here she was.

Those gorgeous, melted chocolate eyes shifted from hopeful to worried, and her usually proud shoulders rounded. Moses realized he’d waited way too damned long to say something.

“Why me?” He thought he knew, but he wasn’t about to risk getting it wrong.

Zuri frowned, shaking her head. “I don’t know how you can ask that.” A little crease settled between her brows, and he recognized determination as she took the two steps to close the distance between them. “I didn’t act on the things I was feeling because I was your boss. I’m not asking you to come back to work for me. I’m asking you for you to come back and work with me. And if that’s too weird for you, then I can help you find another position in Edinburgh. I just want you to come back.”

Too weird for him? Did she have any idea of the gift she was dangling in front of him? His dream job and her? Moses wanted them both almost more than his next breath. But saying yes wasn’t such a simple thing. Not when she didn’t know everything.

“You deserve better than me.”

She made what he thought of as a Scottish noise in the back of her throat. “Bollocks. You are one of the most talented pastry chefs I’ve ever worked with and one of the best men I know.”

He sighed. Knowing he had to give her the truth. “I got my start in a prison kitchen.”

Her fierce expression didn’t change. “So?”

“As an inmate,” he clarified.

She simply blinked at him. “And?”

Hadn’t she heard a word he’d said? “You can’t not care about that.”

Zuri arched both brows. “Did you hurt anybody to get there?”

He almost recoiled at that. “No.”

“Of course you didn’t. I know you better than that. You would never hurt anyone. So no, I don’t care.” She reached up, cupping his cheek in her cool palm. Moses couldn’t stop himself from turning into the touch. “I want this. I want the chance to try things with you. To see what we could be. Don’t you want that?”

Of course, he wanted that more than any damn thing in the world. But he couldn’t just jump without making sure she’d considered all the angles.

“What if it doesn’t work out?”

Her shoulders rose and fell. “Then it doesn’t work out. But at least we’ll know. And we won’t spend the rest of our lives wondering. I can’t think of anything more tragic than letting all of this just pass us by. I crossed an ocean because I couldn’t do that. Can you?”

He’d walked away from her once, and every minute since had simply sucked. Moses didn’t know if he had it in him to do it again. Didn’t he owe it to her to trust that she knew her own mind? That she’d considered the risks and wanted him anyway? What kind of man would he be if he walked away from the gift of that kind of trust?

He reached for her, curling his hands around her hips and lowering his brow to hers. “I want what you’re offering. I want to work with you. I want to work with Marcela and Antonia. To see Tennille again. I want to see where this goes. But I need you to be absolutely sure this is what you want.”

Zuri’s hands snaked up around his neck. “Moses, I’m here. I’m sure.”

He breathed out a sigh. “Thank God.”

This time he was the one who took her mouth, sinking into a kiss that was everything he’d never thought to have. Home, comfort, partnership with a woman who’d earned his undying respect and devotion. She melted against him with a little whimper that fired his blood. Skimming a hand up her back, he threaded his fingers into that glorious mass of curls, angling her head to take the kiss deeper. He wanted to get lost in her, to make up for all the time he hadn’t acted.

The hiss of a whisper nudged at his consciousness, pulling him out of the fog of lust and happiness.

“—can’t just interrupt that!”

“The timer’s about to go off.”

“Then we’ll make another one. I refuse to let you get in the way of romance!” Footsteps scuffled from somewhere nearby.

Ari. That was definitely Ari.

Moses lifted his head, resigned to the fact that their moment was over. “The fact that I can hear y’all kinda overshadows Tiny’s attempt at intervention. But the effort is appreciated.”

Laughing, Zuri buried her flaming face against his chest.

Scott picked up the camera and readied for the next series of shots.

Smirking, Athena strode by them to check the window on the oven. “I’m guessing you’re gonna take the job.”

Keeping one arm around Zuri, Moses glared back. “I am. I can’t decide whether to kick your ass or kiss you.”

“How about inviting me for a visit once you’re settled?”

“That seems only fair.” Zuri beamed a smile at him that felt like sunrise. “Let’s finish that tarte. We’ve got a lot of details to sort out before we go home.”

Home.

The thing he’d been looking for all his adult life. Now he’d found it in the most improbable of places, and he was never walking away from it—or the woman who’d given it to him—again.

Thank you for reading Come Away with Me, a Misfit Inn Short Story. If you’d like to check out Athena’s story, please grab Stay a Little Longer, Misfit Inn Book #3. If you’re in love with Ari and her matchmaking, go back to the beginning of The Misfit Inn series with When You Got a Good Thing, where she’s first introduced. You’ll find she makes cameos in almost all stories set in Eden’s Ridge, Tennesse. They’re all standalones and can be read in more or less any order.

You can find out more about all my books at https://kaitnolan.com and get a free Misfit Inn novella if you sign up for my newsletter.

About the Author

Kait Nolan is a RITA® Award-winning Mississippi author who calls everyone sugar, honey, or darlin’, and can wield a ‘Bless your heart’ like a Snuggie or a saber, depending on requirements. She believes in love, laughter, and that tacos are the world’s most perfect food. When she’s not writing, reading, or wrangling family (both the two-legged and the four-), you can find her obsessively watching The Great British Bake Off.

FOUR NIGHTS TO A SECOND CHANCE

A WILD MONTANA NIGHTS STORY

KAT LATHAM

CHAPTER ONE

The First Night

ANN WILDER HAD the best kind of date lined up for the evening: a glass of wine, a sexy novel about rugby players, and no one asking for extra ketchup or a refill of their coffee. No spills. No grease. No noise.

Just her, some glorious reading, and absolute silence.

The thought of a night curled up on her sofa was especially promising because fat snowflakes were already falling through the gold-leafed trees outside the diner she managed, and it was only a matter of time before the roads turned icy. She couldn’t see much of the sky from behind the counter, but it looked darker outside than it should be at this time of day in mid October.

She quickly finished locking up the cash from the register and looked through the hatch at Mirabelle in the kitchen. “How’s it going in there?”

Mirabelle tossed a rag into the laundry bag as the throaty growl of a motorcycle sounded outside. “Finished! And just in the nick of time because I think I hear Jesse.”

Glancing out the big windows to the parking lot, Ann called back, “Yep, they’re here. You two have a lovely time tonight. Doing anything special?”

“The usual—each other.” Mirabelle grinned as she grabbed her helmet and bag and strode through the swinging door that separated the kitchen from the counter. “And maybe dinner and a movie, if we can summon the energy.”

Ann laughed and unlocked the front door for her. A chilly breeze swept through and nipped Ann’s cheeks. “All right, I know I’m going to sound like a mom, but I can’t help it—drive safely. I don’t like the look of that weather.”

Mirabelle walked past with a big smile. “You don’t need to worry. We’re going straight home, and Jesse’s always careful on the roads, bad weather or not.”

“Good to know. You love birds have fun. I’ll see you in a week.”

“Enjoy your time off and your shopping trip tomorrow. I’m sure you’ll find something great.”

“Hope so.” She needed a mother-of-the-groom dress—her first one, though she suspected she would be wearing it to more weddings in the coming year or two. All four of her babies were grown up, had jobs they were passionate about, and were in relationships with people who adored them. Seeing their successes filled Ann’s heart to overflowing, and her pride only grew as her family expanded with new partners, spouses and kiddos. Next weekend, when her youngest son Gabriel got married, Ann would officially gain an adorable thirteen-year-old grandson. Since her furthest-flung family members were flying in to Bozeman airport this week, she would also get to spend a few days doting on her talented nineteen-year-old granddaughter and playing with her chubby-cheeked baby grandson—her daughter Camila’s children.

Her kids were thriving. They had fulfilling careers and a strong support network of loved ones and friends. Ann may have torpedoed her own life to smithereens, but she’d done all right by her kids. Mostly, they had probably learned what not to do by watching her, but as long as they were okay, she didn’t mind—much.

Mirabelle put on her helmet and swung her leg over the motorcycle, and Jesse raised their hand in goodbye. Ann waved back, shouting to be heard over the motorcycle’s engine. “Have a good night!”

“Thanks!”

She started to close the door but pushed it back open on impulse. “Ride safely!”

She just couldn’t help herself.

She shut the door, locked it, and finished closing up so she could get home to her sofa and books. She had a full week off to look forward to, but every minute of it was already planned out and bursting with family activities. She would take tonight to rest and mentally prepare for the onslaught—especially the one thing she’d been trying not to think about.

Twenty minutes later, her pickup was winding its way through the forest, and snow was falling faster and heavier. As she rounded a corner, her headlights shone on a familiar truck parked along the side of the road.

Damn it. The one thing she’d been trying not to think about.

She squeezed the wheel and pulled over behind Aaron’s truck. His door opened and he slid out, a friendly smile turning into a slight grimace as he faced the glare of her lights. Because of them, he wouldn’t be able to see who she was, but she could see every devastating bit of him. Hair more silver than blond these days. Face lined with easy laughter and years spent toiling in the sunshine. Broad shoulders covered in a fleecy jacket and plaid flannel. She kept her truck idling and the lights on because it was too dark out here without them, but seeing him unexpectedly was always a sucker punch to the heart. Even after all these years.

When she got out of the truck, his smile wavered only a little.

“Hey.” She pushed her fists into her jacket pockets as her boots crunched through the thin layer of snow. “Need help?”

“Hey. I do, yeah.” His voice was a soft hum. When they’d first met in high school, it’d been a boisterous roar, a homerun hit in a packed stadium on a sunny summer’s day. Now it was a groundskeeper patiently repairing divots after the crowds had gone home.

This voice was more her speed.

“Can you give me a lift to the old cabin? I don’t think it’s safe to tinker with the engine on this road when it’s so dark. I’ll come back for the truck in the morning.”

Another change. Once upon a time, he would’ve chosen danger over sense—and he never would have admitted he needed help. She bit back a smile. “Hop in.”

He locked up his truck and got in the passenger seat. He had to give her directions. It’d been so long since she’d driven to the old cabin on the horse ranch his family owned—used to own, until they lost it. The bank had foreclosed on it soon after his parents had passed away. He still managed the ranch, but it was no longer his. The blow had come years after they’d separated, after they’d finished navigating the challenges of raising children in different houses. The anger and resentments, the stress, and the eventual truce for the sake of their kids and their own mental health—those had all simmered down from their initial boiling point, but she hadn’t told him she was sorry he’d lost the ranch because their peace had still been fragile, and she didn’t know how he would judge the sincerity of her words.

If age had taught her anything, it was to follow her instincts more and to worry less about what others thought of her, so she dove right in. “I’m sorry about the ranch, Aaron. I never said it, but I am.”

His head jerked round, but she kept her concentration on the road. She heard the wry note in his voice. “Better late than never, huh?”

“Something like that.”

“Well… thanks. That’s nice to hear. It doesn’t hurt like it used to, but that’s probably because it’ll be back in my family again soon. Maybe one day my grandkids will own it, if I have any, and that means something to me.”

Their oldest son, Wyatt, was engaged to the woman who owned the ranch now. Ann smiled. “Funny how life turns out sometimes, isn’t it?”

He laughed. “Yeah, I guess it is. You and me sitting here having a conversation—couldn’t have predicted that thirty years ago.”

“No, me neither.” She swallowed hard. “And we’ll be seeing each other tomorrow night…”

“And at the wedding.”

“Yup.”

The truck filled with a thick silence, until Ann’s fuck-it bucket overflowed again, and she decided it was better to speak than to assume the worst. After all, he would understand the situation better than anyone. “Have you been as worried about that as I have?”

He blew out a deep breath. “Worried’s probably not the right word. More like nervous.”

“Nervous?” Another thing he never would have admitted when he was younger. The surprises just kept coming. “What about?”

“The wedding’s at the ranch. The last one there didn’t exactly go to plan.”

She chuckled. The bride had run off with Wyatt. “That worked out for the best in the end, though. And I don’t see Molly leaving Gabriel at the altar, if that helps you be less nervous.”

“I’m not nervous about one of them bailing at the last minute. I just want everything to go well for them. No snafus. What are you worried about?”

“Something similar, I guess,” she admitted. “I’m worried people will talk. Bring up my past. And while I can stand up for myself perfectly well these days, I can’t bear the thought that it’ll cast a shadow on Gabriel and Molly’s wedding. My kids had to survive that when they were growing up. I won’t stand for it now.”

Aaron shifted in his seat, and his gaze warmed her cheek. His voice dropped to a low, firm promise. “It’s our past, not just yours. And I won’t stand for it, either. What happened between us is nobody’s business but ours and our kids’. We both made mistakes, and we both hurt each other. I may not have understood that when I was in my twenties, but I sure as hell do now. So if you’re worried about people bringing it up, please know that I’m on your side, and I’ll face everyone with you. If you want me to, that is. Turn left here.”

It took her so long to absorb the words that she almost didn’t make the turn. The snowy dirt road was pitted with potholes, so she slowed the truck down to a crawl. Everything else sped up. Her heart. Her thoughts. Her healing.

Her throat swelled. The road in front of her blurred, and she had to blink hard to see again. She cleared her throat, but the words still only barely eked out. “Thank you. I appreciate that. And I’m so sorry. For all the pain.”

She stopped the truck outside the cabin but kept the engine idling as he got out. His lips twisted into a grin. “Thanks for stopping. It would’ve been a cold night for me otherwise.”

She shook her head. “Thank you, Aaron, for what you said.”

“I should’ve said it years ago, but I never got up the courage.”

“Same. But thank you anyway. I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear it.”

He closed the door and gave her a wave before he disappeared into the cabin. She turned the truck around and forced herself to concentrate on the road ahead of her—the literal one she was driving on. Because the other road she was navigating, the one she’d thought she’d finally figured out, had just taken an unexpected detour.

CHAPTER TWO

The Second Night

AARON STOOD at the edge of the dance floor and watched the sexiest woman he’d ever seen boot-scoot her way across it with her son. Her long blond hair, shot through with gray that glinted in the country-western bar’s ceiling lights, swished against her shoulders as she tipped her head back and laughed.

That smile… It did things to him.

Always had, no matter how he’d tried to deny it.

“Hey, Aaron, can I get you a beer?”

He glanced down to where the squeaky voice was coming from and shook his head in amusement. “Josh, you’re thirteen. They’d better not be serving you.”

Josh rolled his eyes. “They’re not. I’m serving you. Mom’s letting me make some extra money by acting as a server. I’m working for tips.”

This party tonight was for Josh’s mom, Molly, and her fiancé, Gabriel—the man Ann was cutting a rug and laughing with. Molly and Gabriel were getting married in less than a week, and the bride’s best friend had hired this bar in Bozeman to throw a party for both families. On Molly’s side, Josh and a few friends were the only guests. But Gabriel’s family had come from far and wide for the wedding, and, considering several were bringing back new loved-ones and children, this was the first time they’d all been in a room together. Ever.

It was set to be a humdinger of a night.

“You know what, kid? I think I’d better have some water.”

“One water coming right up.” Josh spun his wheelchair around and rolled off to relay the order to the bartender.

Aaron stayed put and fought the feeling of being an outsider. His sons Wyatt and Austen were here with their fiancées, but they were Gabriel’s half-brothers, so they belonged here. Aaron himself wasn’t actually related to Gabriel.

He was just the guy Ann had been married to when she got pregnant with Gabriel and his twin, Camila.

Josh brought him his water, and Aaron tipped him ten dollars. Josh’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely. The service here is great. Keep it up.”

“Thanks!” Josh wheeled away.

On the dance floor, Gabriel spun his mom again and bent her back in a low dip. Their laughter reached him over the music, drawing him like a drug.

He’d spent last night in his cabin mentally replaying old memories, shocked to find they didn’t hold the sharp pain they once had. Some tender moments had mixed their way in—the day he first noticed Ann, as she’d pitched a no-hitter for their high school softball team. The joy on her face as she jumped into her catcher’s arms when they won. The same joy when she jumped into his arms a few months later, after he’d pitched a fastball at their county fair to win her the biggest stuffed bear.

They’d loved each other once. They’d been too young and unprepared for the responsibility of family life, and they’d messed up badly. But as he looked around the honky-tonk at Wyatt, Austin, Gabriel, and Camila—and the loves they had found—he realized they’d all messed up at some point in their lives. The younger generation had learned from their mistakes, though, and opened themselves up to the possibility of second chances. And look how happy they all were now.

He gulped his water down, set the empty glass on a table and strode across the dance floor. It was high time he made peace with his estranged wife.

In public, this time.

He got to her and Gabriel just as the song ended. “Mind if I cut in?”

Gabriel gave him a startled look, glanced at his mom and held up his hands as if he were about to start ballroom dancing. “All right, but I’m warning you, my hands are a bit sweaty.”

Ann laughed, and the awkwardness of the moment melted away. “I’ll save you from Gabriel’s sweaty hands. I’d love to dance with you, Aaron.”

Aaron’s heart did a strange kick, a feeling he remembered getting from this same woman over forty years ago. Gabriel kissed the top of his mom’s head and said, “Have fun. I’m going to find Molly and some food.”

The strains of the music changed to a slow love song as he walked away, and Aaron took Ann into his arms. His body remembered the fit of hers in his embrace. The softness of her. The warmth and sweetness. She stepped closer, her head tilted to meet his gaze. She smiled up at him, and his heart kicked again.

“Not worried now?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Everyone here is family. They won’t judge me. The wedding is what’s giving me stress dreams.”

His hand squeezed hers. “I need you to know something.”

“What?”

“I’m still nervous.”

“Why?”

He couldn’t quite put the words to the complicated mess of his feelings, but he tried. “Talking to you last night… it helped me see some things. I realized how different things are for me now, but that they might not be for you. I hadn’t known you were worried old gossip would hurt Gabriel and Molly. I hadn’t realized you still get confronted with the past, still have to cope with it.”

“For the most part, I don’t. They were really hard times, but it was a long time ago, and I was a different person then. But as much as I know that, it still comes up sometimes, and I’d do anything to spare my kids that pain. Gabriel and Molly deserve a beautiful wedding without my past getting in the way.”

“Our past,” he corrected automatically. “As much as I wanted to absolve myself of responsibility at the time, I didn’t cope with being a teenage husband and parent any better than you did. Hell, I threw myself into the ranch so I could escape. You didn’t have a way out. You were on your own with a colicky baby and my mother. I don’t know which of those was worse.”

“Your mother.”

He bit out a bark of laughter. “Yeah, actually I figured that was the case.”

“Apparently you were the perfect baby because she was the perfect mother.”

“Well, I don’t know about myself as a baby, but that second part sure isn’t true. I mean, I love her, but she was as flawed as anyone, and one of those flaws was making other people feel bad about their imperfections. It wasn’t something I understood when I was eighteen, but I do now. You were young and vulnerable, and I should’ve protected you from her better.”

Her eyes squeezed shut, and she swayed almost imperceptibly closer—but he felt it. He felt the hitch of her breath, the slight tremor that ran through her. His words had done something to her. Uttering them aloud had done something to him, too, something he couldn’t explain. Like he’d closed a door on a past life that had been instrumental in making him who he was but no longer had the power to hurt him. The only thing he drew from it now was strength and a desire to lend that strength to anyone who was hurting. Because he’d been there and knew how it felt, and if he could protect others from that pain then he would damn well do it.

“In the spirit of better-late-than-never,” he said, “there are a lot of things I understand now that I didn’t then. We weren’t ready—neither of us was. I had ways out that you didn’t have, until you found one of your own. I won’t lie—it hurt like hell, but I know I hurt you, too. Sometimes I wish we could go back and redo things, but I honestly wouldn’t be eighteen again for all the money in the world. I know who I am now, and I know the value of the people in my life. They’re… priceless. Gabriel and Camila might be Ángel’s kids, but they’re incredible people and I’m proud to know them. And I agree completely about Gabriel and Molly deserving a beautiful wedding. So I had an idea.”

An idea that made him nervous as hell, as did the tears making her eyes sparkle under the overhead lights.

“I’m listening,” she whispered.

“What if we spent some time together this week, just the two of us? Got to know each other as we are now, instead of making assumptions based on who we used to be. If we’re comfortable and relaxed around each other, other people will be too.”

The muscles of her throat flexed with a hard swallow. His fingers instinctively tightened against her ribs, drawing her into his strength. “Ann, I’m not the sullen kid who dealt with problems by walking away and ignoring them. If you’re worried and I can do something to help ease your mind, then I’d like to do it.”

The tip of her tongue wet her lower lip as she considered his reasoning. He fought the urge to lean down and take her words into his mouth.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s do that.”

For a second, he thought he’d spoken his urge aloud and she was agreeing to a kiss. But then she said, “When?” and he had to shake his head to clear the foggy image of the two of them entwined.

“Uh… tomorrow afternoon?” Did that sound too eager? He didn’t care.

She shook her head. “I promised Molly I’d run some wedding errands while she’s teaching, then I’m treating all my girls to a fancy afternoon tea. But in the evening?”

“That works for me.”

“Where should I meet you?”

“How about the ranch? You can get used to the place privately instead of waiting until the wedding day. Plus, there’s something I want to show you—if being there doesn’t bring back too many bad memories.”

She grinned. “I think I’m ready to start replacing those bad memories with good ones, Aaron.”

“Good. Me too.” He twirled her around on the dance floor and pulled her back into his arms.

CHAPTER THREE

The Third Night

THE SETTING SUN was painting the sky pink when Ann parked her truck in front of the barn at the ranch. She tilted the rear-view mirror to check her face. Mascara on lashes, not raccooning the skin around her eyes—check. Lipstick on lips, not teeth—check. Hair twisted up and clipped out of her way—check.

She gave her reflection an encouraging nod. “Here we go,” she whispered to herself.

She slid out of her truck onto the snowy ground, shut the door, and walked toward the barn, trying to ignore the echo of Aaron’s mother’s voice from the day she’d moved in. He had his whole future ahead of him. You trapped him. You should be ashamed of yourself.

Mostly she’d felt violently ill from morning sickness and the frantic beat of panic in her chest telling her that Aaron wasn’t the only one trapped. Especially since she’d had her whole life ahead of her too, plus her parents telling her she had one option—marry the boy. You made your bed and now you have to lie in it.

Rock. Hard place. Terrified teenagers stuck in between, and a shocking lack of compassion from the adults who should have known better. Having eventually become the mother of a pregnant teen, she had a better understanding of the panic their parents must’ve felt, but they’d dealt with it in such damaging ways. It was why, when Camila had gotten pregnant at sixteen, Ann had helped her explore all her options and supported her through the one she’d chosen.

She shook the memories free as Aaron stepped out of the barn. He must’ve read the emotions on her face—something he’d been able to do incredibly well before they’d separated—and he jogged over to her, boots sinking deep into the snow. He lowered his face to be on her eye level and gently laid his hand on her shoulder. “Is it too much? We can go somewhere else, if you want.”

With that small gesture of care, the memories fizzled and lost their power. She squared her shoulders and smiled. “I’m good. This is good. I’d rather do this alone with you now than in front of guests on Saturday.”

The corner of his lips twitched, like he wasn’t sure how to respond to that much honesty. He squeezed her shoulder and dropped his hand. “Okay then. Come with me.”

He walked alongside her toward the barn. His hand settled on the small of her back, so lightly she almost couldn’t feel it through her coat, but the slight brush of it was definitely there, sending tingles up and down her spine. Once they got inside, he stepped away and she felt the loss of his closeness.

He introduced her to the horses one by one. She stroked their soft noses, fed them treats, and whispered words of adoration to each one. She’d always loved horses. Could never afford to own one herself—hell, for decades she’d pinched pennies so hard she wouldn’t have given herself the luxury of even a pet hamster—but now that her kids were grown and she could spend her income on herself, she went riding whenever she could.

By the time they’d worked their way past every stall, all the remaining tightness in her shoulders had eased. She nuzzled the last horse and murmured, “I still can’t believe you get to work with these beauties every day.”

“I’m a lucky man.”

She smiled and pulled away. “What’s next?”

He reached for her hand, almost as if unconsciously, and taking it seemed as natural as breathing.

“I want to show you one of the outbuildings. It’s the thing I really wanted you to see.”

The ranch had several outbuildings, a couple of which had been built since the last time she was here. He gestured to one—a white-painted barn in a traditional style—and said, “That’s where the reception will be. We plan to hire it out for events, but this’ll be the first one. We’ve also renovated the old chapel, so if the weather’s not okay for an outdoor ceremony on Saturday we’ll move it in there.”

Ann hadn’t been part of those wedding plans. She’d gone wedding-dress shopping with Molly, cried with her when they’d found the perfect dress, told her how proud her mom would be of her. She’d helped pick out wildflower arrangements at the florist’s. She’d tasted food from the caterer. But she’d protected herself by not asking for details of the day itself. Somehow she’d thought she’d feel less anxious about revising the place where she’d spent the toughest years of her life if the picture in her head was vague.

She’d thought wrong.

“Want to see inside?”

“Maybe just a peek.”

He led her into the events barn, where collapsible tables and chairs lined the walls, a stage dominated the opposite side, and a dance floor took up the middle. “We’ll set everything up on Friday before the rehearsal dinner so the florist and caterer can finish the job Saturday morning. Are you coming along to help?”

She shook her head. “I’m spending Friday spoiling my grandkids. All three of them.”

She couldn’t control the excited shimmy of her shoulders, and he laughed. “I guess that’ll free up their parents to get things done here.”

“That’s how I sold it to them, but really I just want to fill those sweethearts up with sugar and cuddles.”

“You’re so altruistic.”

She chuckled. “Yeah, I’ll be filling myself up with sugar and cuddles, too.”

“Good. You deserve it.”

The words slid through her like brandy, warming her from the inside out.

They went back outside and walked through the snow for about five minutes before reaching a large building set among newly planted trees. Aaron’s excitement was palpable the closer they got. “This is the project I’ve been working on with the kids for the last year. We’re getting closer to done, and I think we’ll be ready to open in the spring.”

The kids were all in their thirties, unless he was including Josh, who’d certainly been instrumental in the project. All four of her kids and their partners had kept her up to date with their plan to turn parts of the ranch into a camp for folks with disabilities. Gabriel had come up with the idea after Josh’s injury, but they’d all jumped aboard quickly to make it happen. Wyatt’s fiancée, Nancy, owned the ranch and had raised a tremendous amount of money through her Hollywood friends. Austin and his girlfriend, Lacey, had done local fundraising and provided a lot of elbow grease alongside Wyatt, Gabriel, Molly, and Aaron. Camila, who owned a camp in the mountains outside Los Angeles, had been advising them, and her rugby-coach husband, Ash, was searching for sports trainers with the right expertise.

When her kids were young, Gabriel and Wyatt had fought so much she never could have imagined them growing up and being in the same room, much less working on something together. The fact they’d made amends and were finally building trust—maybe even a friendship—filled her maternal heart to bursting.

It also made her think more about the power of letting old wounds heal so new bonds could form.

Aaron slid a set of keys from his coat pocket and unlocked the door. “Ready?”

“Can’t wait.”

His excitement was infectious.

He pushed the door open and followed her in. Her breath caught in her throat. “Oh, Aaron. I never imagined—”

It was huge. An indoor tennis court, a basketball court, and in the far corner… “Are those batting cages?”

“I thought you’d like that.”

“Holy shit, like doesn’t cover it.”

He laughed. “Nancy decided to rent this sports center out to community groups when there isn’t a camp here. Teams’ll be able to keep their skills up all year round.” His shoulder bumped hers. “Including your old softball team.”

“I don’t know what to say. Molly told me there’d be an indoor sports center, but I was picturing a small clubhouse with foosball tables, not this.”

“Well, a small clubhouse was our original aim, but a lot of very rich people love Nancy—and Ash, too. He’s gotten sponsorship from pro athletes around the world.”

“They didn’t tell me.”

“I only know because I get to see the accounts. They’re very modest about the whole thing.”

“This is amazing. I didn’t think I could get any prouder. I was so wrong.” She nudged him. “Let’s go see if you’ve still got it what it takes.”

His brows rose. “I’ve still got it, all right. Some things improve with age, you know.”

She winked. “I know.”

Flirting… with her husband. She’d forgotten how fun it was.

She crossed to the batting cage and pulled a metal bat off the wall. Testing its weight, she tossed him a look over her shoulder. “Think you can strike me out?”

His only answer was to pick up a baseball and a mitt and walk to the pitcher’s mound as she settled a helmet on her head. He threw the ball into his mitt a few times. “Let me know when you’re ready for the heat.”

A different kind of heat swept through her as she stepped into the batter’s box and raised the bat in a pose that felt so familiar. “Let me know when you’re ready for the heat.”

“Oh, I’m ready,” he murmured. “Been ready for a while now.”

She lowered the bat slightly. “Wh—”

He pitched.

She swung.

Crack!

The ball flew through the air and thunked against the padded wall on the opposite side.

“I think you just hit a homerun.” He gave her big grin.

She smiled back. “Yeah. I think I did.”

CHAPTER FOUR

The Fourth Night

BY SATURDAY MORNING, a thick blanket of snow covered the ground but the sky overhead was a brilliant blue. The wedding would begin in a half hour, and Gabriel had asked Ann to visit him in one of the chapel’s two private rooms.

Ann blinked back tears as her youngest son tugged her close and hugged her hard. She had to go up on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “I’m so proud of you, Gabriel. So proud. And your dad would be, too. I wish he could be here to see you. All the things you’ve overcome… and the man you are… so proud.”

Her voice broke as her memory flicked through all the horrible experiences he had survived, from the very moment he’d been born to his service in Afghanistan and beyond. Now he had Molly, one of the loveliest people Ann had ever met, and Josh, a kiddo who made him laugh. At one point, she’d thought Gabriel would never laugh again. Finding love had healed him in so many ways.

“I owe it all to you and him, Mom.” His arms gave her a quick squeeze, and she buried her face in his shoulder as she shook her head.

“To him, maybe. Not me. You did it all in spite of me, honey.”

“No way. You did your best with what you had, always. You’re a fighter too, Mom. You sacrificed so much for us.”

She hadn’t purposely put her life on hold, but as the single mom of four kids under three years old, splitting custody with two men, she’d done everything possible to help her family survive. She hadn’t always made the best decisions, but she’d certainly tried to protect her kids from the fallout.

He was right. She was a fighter.

“I hope you can start relaxing and enjoying your life now that we’re all doing well.”

“I relax just fine.”

He snorted. “You work your ass off. Listen, I know what it’s like to live your life in survival mode. When it feels like you’re hit by one trauma after another, and you’re struggling to keep from drowning. It can be hard to get yourself out of that cycle, to realize you’re safe and secure and can start living again. Molly, Josh, Camila, you—all of you helped pull me out of it, but I had to decide to trust and forgive myself first. It was the only way I could open myself up to all the good things life had in store for me.”

Shock settled deep in her bones. She pulled back far enough to look him in the eyes. “How did you get so insightful?”

“A shit-ton of therapy. And a lot of patience from the people who love me best.”

His words followed her as she walked down the aisle to her seat in the front row. In true Gabriel-and-Molly style, the ceremony would be low-key and relaxed, focused on their love for each other and their family and friends. Gabriel had made it clear that he didn’t want a bride’s side and groom’s side because everyone there should support them both, so Ann deliberately sat in a pew on the left.

Camila stood at the front as Gabriel’s best person. Molly had decided that she, Gabriel, and Josh should travel down the aisle together as a family. Right now, Josh was helping Wyatt and Austin seat guests, giving Molly and Gabriel time alone together in the bride’s dressing room. Ann suspected her son, who had never been comfortable being the center of attention, was grateful that his first glimpse of his bride in her dress would be a private one, rather than in front of a chapel full of people.

Ann twisted in her seat, watching as guests arrived and were seated. She didn’t pretend to fool herself about the man she was looking for. When Aaron finally arrived, her breath caught painfully in her chest. He wore a dark-blue suit, a happy smile, and his heart on his sleeve. Love radiated off of him. He was right—he wasn’t the same closed-off young man he’d once been. Nor was she the same young woman. She’d wrestled back control of her life and knew how to chart her own course.

He hugged Wyatt and Austin, then said something to Josh that had the boy grinning ear to ear. Josh’s reply made Aaron jerk in surprise as Wyatt and Austin roared with laughter. Aaron recovered quickly, leaned down to give Josh a big hug, and then let Austin lead him down the aisle.

Austin took him to the second pew on the right-hand side, so Ann called out, “Austin!” Both men turned to look at her. She raised her brows at their son and pointed to the empty seat next to her.

Aaron’s smile grew, and he clapped their son on his shoulder before crossing the aisle to her. As Ann straightened in her seat, she caught Camila’s wink.

Aaron settled next to her, his thigh brushing hers. She let her leg lean into the touch.

“What did you say to Josh?” she whispered.

He tipped his head towards hers, his voice low. “I asked if I could be part of his family. He said, ‘Sure thing, Gramps!’ and I felt my soul leave my body.”

She laughed. “I think I’ll have to call you Gramps from now on.”

“Do it and there’ll be consequences.”

She suppressed a shiver of excitement. Her voice turned husky. “What kind of consequences?”

He blinked at her, his expression becoming suddenly serious. “What kind do you want?”

Swallowing hard, she let Gabriel’s words about trusting herself guide her answer. “I’m not sure yet, but I’d like to explore the possibilities.”

Aaron didn’t hesitate. He laid his hand palm up on her thigh. She placed hers in his, and their fingers intertwined.

The ceremony made Ann cry, and Aaron used his free hand to wipe away his own tears, too. Watching Gabriel pledge his love to Molly healed the last bits of Ann’s aching heart.

Aaron held her hand throughout it all. Their bodies instinctively relaxed into each other, supporting and being supported by each other. By the time Gabriel and Molly walked back down the aisle to cheers and applause, followed by Camila and Josh, Ann had made up her mind about what she wanted.

THE GUESTS PARTIED for hours and hours, until the twinkle lights around the outside of the barn mingled with moonlight to cast colorful rays against the snow. After what must’ve been his hundredth dance with friends and family, Aaron returned to the one person he really wanted in his arms. She was laughing with some of Molly’s teacher friends when he approached. “Sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering if I could borrow Ann.”

No one batted an eye as she excused herself from the group and took his hand. He led her to the dance floor, and held her close. “How are you holding up, Mama of the Groom?”

“Much better now that I’ve ditched my heels.”

He glanced down at her stockinged feet. “I thought you’d shrunk.”

They swayed together, and she tucked her head under his chin. He tried not to let his hopes rise too high.

“Aaron?”

“Yeah?” he murmured against her hair.

“Do you have plans after this?”

“You mean… tonight?”

“Yeah.”

His arms flexed around her, and he fought to keep his voice casual. “Oh, you know… no real plans.”

She tipped her head back and looked at him. “Can I come home with you?”

“Hell yes.”

The rest of the reception passed in a blur. Molly and Gabriel left in a truck that his siblings had decorated in streamers. Camila, Ash, and their kids went back to Josh’s house with him, where they would all stay together for a week while Molly and Gabriel had a honeymoon. Aaron held Ann’s hand as they said goodbye to guests, and although people gave them curious or knowing looks, no one said anything.

When everyone had gone, Aaron and Ann went to their trucks, and she followed him to his house on the other side of the ranch. As soon as they stepped through the door, she kicked it closed and was in his arms.

He bent low, clasped her butt and lifted her off her feet so he could reach her mouth better.

“I missed you,” he whispered against her lips.

“I missed you, too. I didn’t realize how much.” She sifted her fingers through his hair.

“Me neither.” He slanted his mouth over hers, tasting her, relearning every soft, strong bit of her.

She pushed his suit jacket off his shoulders, loosened his tie. He helped her take it off, his mouth never leaving hers. Together, their fingers attacked the buttons of his shirt and his cuff links until he could shrug it off, leaving him naked from the waist up. Ann pulled back and stared, her nails skimming gently over his chest and stomach, leaving shivers in their wake.

“Good God, Aaron.” Her lust-husky voice brought him to his knees. Literally.

He knelt before her, his eager hands lifting the skirt of her dress as she leaned back against the door. He took off her shoes, rolled down her stockings, lowered her panties. She shifted her legs, an eager moan sliding out as she bit her lip.

He feasted on her.

Her fingernails dug into his scalp, holding him in the only place he wanted to be, for now and forever. When she broke apart, he stood and lifted her. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her mouth finding his as he carried her to his bedroom. He laid her on the bed, and she held him tightly, never letting an inch of space come between them. Her hands made short work of his remaining clothes. When he finally—fucking finally—stretched out against her—naked, needy flesh pressed to naked, needy flesh—reality pushed through his haze. “Ann, I don’t have any condoms.”

“I’m safe. And postmenopausal.”

“Me too. Safe, I mean.”

She smiled. “Then let’s do this.”

He took his time, savoring every sweet, torturous inch of her.

HOURS LATER, he woke up alone, but sounds in the living room told him she hadn’t left. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and got up, taking the time to pull on some warm sweats and a long-sleeved T-shirt. He had today off work, and he planned to stay home—hopefully with Ann—all day long.

She was kneeling in front of the fireplace, poking at the burning logs and wearing his dress shirt from the day before when she noticed him. “Good morning.”

“Better than good,” he replied. “The best morning.”

“No regrets, then?”

“Not a single one. You?”

She grinned. “Not a single one. I hope I didn’t wake you up. I’m used to being at the diner before dawn. Even on my days off, my body wakes me up early.”

“Same here.” He glanced out the window. The first rays of morning light peeked through the trees. He crossed the room and knelt next to her, taking the poker from her hands and laying it on the hearth. Nuzzling her cheek, he whispered, “Thanks for the fire.”

“I thought we could use a little heat.”

“I thought we created plenty of our own.”

She wrapped her arms around him and leaned her forehead against his. “Aaron?”

“Mmm?”

“This wasn’t a one-off, wedding-induced fling, was it?”

His fingers tightened against her hips. “Not for me it wasn’t.”

“Also not for me. I’d like to see where this thing between us goes.”

“Then let’s do that.” He kissed her softly. “Happy first-day-of-the-rest-of-our-lives, sweetheart.”

About the Author

Kat Latham is the award-winning author of contemporary romance novels with heat and heart. Her books have won the HOLT Medallion award and been nominated for three RITA awards. A California girl who moved to Europe the day after graduating from UCLA, she has taught English in Prague and worked as an editor for a humanitarian organization in London. She now lives with her husband and two young kids in a small college town in the Netherlands.

Four Nights to a Second Chance is part of the Wild Montana Nights series. Discover more of Kat’s books on her website or at your favorite book retailer!

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IN THE BEGINNING

KAT SAVAGE

RYAN

PEOPLE SAY your life flashes before your eyes when you’re about to die, but being that I’m very much alive and all, I wouldn’t know. What I do know, though, is the moment I looked down into this jewelry case and set my sights on the most perfect diamond ring to give her, my life did, in fact, flash before my eyes. Not just my life up to this moment, but all that lies ahead as well.

“This one,” I say. “This is the one.”

Declan walks over to where I’m standing and peers into the case, his hands uncomfortably fidgeting in his pockets.

“You’re sure?” he asks.

“Yes, I’m sure.” I motion for the sales associate.

“No, I mean…” Declan pauses. “Are you sure about this whole thing?”

“What do you mean?” I ask, my gaze still fixed on the ring.

“You’re young. She’s young. Are you sure this is what you want?”

Standing upright, I lock eyes with him. He’s my friend. I know he’s only looking out for my best interests. I know his thoughts and questions are only out of concern. But they have no effect on my decision.

I met Annalise Gray on the first day of our third-year psychology class. I walked into the lecture hall twelve minutes late and slid into the back row as inconspicuously as possible, but the professor still gave me “the look.” The cute girl sitting next to me shoved a page of notes toward me as I was scrambling to get out my own notebook. She gave me a look, too, though it wasn’t at all the same as the old guy teaching.

Her half-cocked smile was the first thing I noticed. The golden flecks in her green eyes were the second. And I’ve been hooked ever since.

“It took me two years to convince her to go on a date with me. It took me another year to convince her I love her. We’ve been officially together for six months with a committed title. Trust me, I’m sure.”

The man behind the counter places the princess-cut diamond in my hand and begins telling me all about it, though I can’t hear him. His voice fades into mumbled background noise for a few minutes before I cut him off to tell him I’ll take it.

Twenty minutes later, I walk out with a small black bag in my hand and a smile on my face not even a god could wipe away.

Declan has his doubts, his concerns, and I appreciate that about him. Despite how he feels, he still supports me. I think that’s what true friendship is about. We don’t have the same goals or life plans in mind, but we respect those paths and appreciate their differences all the same.

“How are you going to do it?” Declan asks. “And when?”

“We’re having dinner tomorrow night, and then I’m going to take her on a walk through the park where we had our first date. She’s not the type who wants a scene in front of a bunch of people at the restaurant. It’ll only be us.”

“That sounds good,” he says with a smile.

As we round the corner toward our apartment, my phone buzzes in my pocket. As I pull it out, Annalise’s face lights up my screen, and I can’t help but smile.

ANNALISE: I’ve got BIG NEWS! Can we move dinner to tonight instead of tomorrow?

RYAN: Yes, totally. See you then. Love you.

ANNALISE: <3

My heart leaps into my throat as the realization that I’ll be proposing tonight settles in my mind. I thought I had closer to twenty-four hours of preparation, and now I have a mere five. Five hours. Five. Hours. And my life will change.

“Well,” I say, looking toward Declan. “Should I go with the black suit or the navy?”

“Black,” he says. “But no tie. Keep it loose.”

“Right.” I shake my hands as if the nervousness might fall from my fingertips.

Once inside our apartment, I retreat to my room for a shower. I pull the red velvet box from the bag and place it at the edge of my dresser. It’s odd how such a small thing can hold so much significance.

I reach for my black suit hanging toward the back of my closet. It hasn’t been worn since… last year—my parents’ funeral. Hopefully tonight will help me associate my favorite suit with better memories.

After grabbing a towel, I head into the bathroom and strip down. Don’t ever let a guy tell you he doesn’t pause and look at himself in the mirror. They want to say we don’t. That women do it, but not men. But that isn’t true. I study the shape of the lines defining my pecs, the curve of my biceps, and even the muscle definition in my legs. Not because I’m vain, but because I’m human.

Hot water hits my shoulders as I step in, causing a wave of immediate relief. I didn’t realize how stiff my body was until now. Holding anxiety in your muscles will do that to a person.

It’s not that I’m worried she will say no. I don’t fear rejection. But Annalise is a creature of habit, of noncommittal maybes, because she has to think, analyze, and make sure. She has to weigh the pros, cons, what-ifs, what-if-nots, and anything else she can dream up. It has nothing to do with me and everything to do with her past. Given what she’s been through, I don’t blame her. And, in fact, I’m more grateful for her love because it isn’t easily won. It’s not really won at all, but rather earned.

But—like most triumphs—it’s not only worth the wait but it’s a badge I’ll carry with me always, and I’ll know that because she gave it to me, she truly means it.

God, that sounds sappy. I wasn’t this guy before I met her. I was the guy that was never going to get married, actually. I was the perpetual party thrower and goer. The playboy who had no interest in growing roots. Funny how things change.

I lather the shampoo into my hair, then rinse, letting the water pour over me on all sides. Rubbing my eyes, I catch a glimpse of her body wash and know what it smells like without even picking it up. Of course, all that does is make me remember the last time we showered together. It may be one of my favorite things to do with her.

Resisting the sudden twitch down south, I turn off the water and step out. Great. I’ve got a halfie and no preferred way to take care of it.

ANNALISE

TODAY IS the greatest day of my life. Or at least, I hope it is. It’s definitely the day I’ve been working toward for years—my dream job offered to me by one of the top companies around the globe. And the salary and benefits package? Way more than I was expecting to make so shortly after graduating college. But they were majorly impressed with my portfolio, and I’ll be working with several of the best in the field.

When I first expressed interest in becoming an architect, most of my friends and family were surprised. I hadn’t really shown any curiosity in the field or taken a liking to anything similar. But one day during my senior year of high school, smack dab in the middle of a personal crisis about not knowing what I wanted to go to college for, or hell, even do with the rest of my life, there was a career and college day.

At the booth for architecture, there was a professor from the university who spoke so passionately about it, I was entranced. I asked what felt like a thousand questions, looked at his sample portfolio, and fell in love. It was like art and math coming together to create beauty and function. I can’t explain it to this day. That was it for me.

So, this morning, I had a virtual interview with Zara & Hadick, a firm based in London, and they accepted me on the spot and sent over an employee contract that outlined salary, benefits, and a start date. Plus a plane ticket for tomorrow night. I know what you’re thinking. That’s soon, right? What about a work visa? They’re taking care of that too. Apparently, being a billion-dollar company allows them to expedite just about anything they want.

That only leaves one thing unresolved. Ryan. I wish I could say with some kind of certainty what this means for us. He’s currently building his reputation as Declan’s manager, and presence is everything. It feels selfish to ask him to come with me, to leave his dream so I can pursue mine. There’s always long distance, but that’s not exactly a long-term solution.

These thoughts have been quite intrusive since I got off the call. And given that my plane ticket is for tomorrow, I immediately texted Ryan asking to move our dinner to tonight because we have a lot to talk about.

A wave of panic hits me as I stand from my desk, and I’m going to throw up. I run to the bathroom, one hand over my mouth and the other clutching my stomach. Unfortunately, there’s nothing to actually throw up, which I find worse. I have been a nervous, jittery wreck since my alarm went off and can’t even force myself to eat so much as toast. So, I drank some Sprite, took an antacid, and reached for a Blueberry Red Bull to assuage my caffeine addiction.

Once finished, I straighten myself out and grab a towel for the shower. I might as well start getting ready for dinner. It’s not that far off now. Hopefully my appetite improves by then.

I SLIP inside the passenger seat of Ryan’s car as he gently pushes the door shut behind me. He’s always insisted on the chivalry, not that I’m complaining.

“Did I mention you look positively breathtaking?” he asks, sliding behind the wheel.

“Thank you. And you’re quite handsome this evening, as well.” I swear we’re not this cheesy, but we do step over the line intentionally on occasion. It’s a long-standing inside joke from our early days of dating.

“So, what’s this big news you want to talk about?”

I hesitate, completely unprepared to jump right into it while still in the car. If the conversation doesn’t end well, this could be one hell of a rough night all the way around. “Can we wait until we’re seated at the restaurant so we can give it our full attention?”

And to buy me time.

“Of course,” he says, reaching for my hand. He laces his fingers with mine, squeezing tightly for a moment.

A smile flashes over his lips and remains for the rest of the short ride. He seems to be in an exceptionally good mood. To be fair, he always seems to have woken up on the right side of the bed, but his energy is heightened tonight. For whatever reason, this kicks my anxiety up a notch.

The hostess seats us, and there’s a waiter taking our drink order almost immediately after. But once he departs, I know it’s coming.

“Okay, here we are. What’s up?” he asks, straightening his silverware. He turns his face toward me expectantly, and I’m on.

“Well, you know how I’ve been hunting for a position at an architecture firm that’s bigger than the one I’m at now?”

He nods, his gaze still fixed on me.

“So, I didn’t want to say anything too early, but I interviewed this morning and have been offered a position at one of the top companies, literally, around the globe,” I say. “And the salary and benefits are great.”

“That’s amazing, babe,” he says. “I’m so happy for you. I know you’ve been working toward that for so long.”

I raise my hand. “Wait, there’s more to it.”

Ryan’s features tighten, as I’m sure the first hint of concern has crept in.

“The position is with Zara & Hadick. Their offices are located in London,” I say.

Ryan leans back into his chair as the reality of the situation becomes more apparent.

“London, wow. And you probably wouldn’t be talking to me about it if you weren’t going to accept it. When?”

I sigh, deflating a bit as I gulp down the frog in my throat. “Tomorrow night.”

His eyes widen, and I’m sure the term shocked doesn’t even begin to cover what he’s feeling, because it’s exactly how I felt.

“That’s soon, A. Really fucking soon,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Plan?” I’m white-knuckling the edge of the tablecloth and praying for a miracle at this point.

“Yeah, the plan. Do you want to break up with me? Is this a breakup dinner?” he asks, his voice sounding distant.

“God, no. That’s the last thing I want. But I also didn’t arrive here with a plan. I was hoping to create one together. Unless you’re saying you want to break up?”

“That’s not what I want either. I’m really confused. I don’t know why you didn’t bring this up earlier—the possibility of it.”

“If I hadn’t gotten the interview or even been offered a job, talking about it would have worried us for nothing. I wanted to wait until it was real. I didn’t expect it to happen so soon.”

“I just feel like I could’ve prepared better,” he says. “I could’ve taken relocation into consideration when I was networking.”

“I know,” I say. “I’m so sorry. How do you feel about long distance?”

“I think it would ultimately fail,” he says, sighing.

I reach for a piece of bread from the center of the table, finally feeling like I can eat. I’ve always been in a constant state of not eating at all or eating too much during stressful times.

“It could work for a little while, though,” he says.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“I mean, I can’t pack up my life and wrap up all the loose ends I have in a day. But maybe we could do this long distance for a short time while I figure it all out. Then I could come over,” he says. “What do you think?”

There’s a relief in my chest I can’t fully express, but I do my best with the first genuine smile I’ve been able to produce since he picked me up.

“Yes,” I say. “It’s as good and reasonable as anything. I admit I was scared to come right out and ask you to come with me directly. I don’t know if it’s because I feared the answer or hated the idea of being that selfish. You’ve worked just as hard for your career as I have mine.”

At some point, unrealized to me, our drinks were delivered, but it’s not until Ryan reaches for his and takes a sip that I catch on. Still, he looks slightly worried. Maybe that’s to be expected.

After setting his drink back down, he reaches for my hand and clutches it firmly.

“Listen to me, A,” he says, pausing to capture my full attention. “I would follow you anywhere. I’ve loved you for so long. Hell, I think I loved you the moment we met.”

“You’re crazy,” I say, simultaneously laughing and getting teary-eyed.

“For you, A,” he says. “I’m crazy for you.”

RYAN

ANNALISE LEANS INTO MY CHEST, my arm wrapped around her as we walk through the park. She’s talking about London and how we’re going to love it there and all the things she wants to see. She’s talking about how big of an adventure it will be for us. Though, I can’t totally concentrate.

My hand periodically slips into my pocket, my fingertips grazing the velvet pouch hidden there. Inside it is the ring I’d planned to give her tonight—the ring that was going to change our lives. It feels wrong to give it to her now. I propose and then she leaves? Hardly feels like a fun engagement. Or I could do it now, and she says no due to all the changes already happening. That’s not desirable. My only real option is to wait. I’ll wait until I’m over there, until we’re together again, and then I’ll do it. It’s not what I want, but it’s what I’ll settle for.

The truth is, earlier today, the vision of my future was certain. I knew exactly how it was going to play out. And now that future gets blurrier by the minute. A hundred glass-half-empty scenarios flow through my head on a loop. What if she gets over there without me and decides she wants to have this adventure on her own? Or worse, what if one of those dashing British men with their dashing British accents sweeps her away? What if waiting for me holds her back from something truly great for her?

I push the intrusive thoughts to the furthest corners of my mind as I press a kiss to the top of her head. Her steps slow to a stop as she turns in to hug me. I wrap my arms around her, as I’ve done so many times, but this somehow feels different.

She tilts her head back to look at my face, and I study hers. Even in the faint glow of a nearby lamp, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Those green eyes. Those golden flecks. Soft pink lips. The lightest sprinkle of freckles over the bridge of her nose and cheeks. It’s enough to melt anyone into a drooling pile of mush.

“Are you sure we’re going to be okay?” she asks.

The palpable fear in her tone is almost more than I can bear. So, I pull her tighter to my chest, pressing my lips to hers. My tongue parts her lips, tasting her. Her hands clench the fabric of my jacket as the kiss deepens, and I get lost in the moment. We might’ve stayed like that for thirty seconds or thirty minutes—I really don’t know. But I press my forehead to hers, inhaling her scent.

“I promise we will be okay,” I say. “Cross my heart.”

We stay like that for a long while—embracing each other—frightened that if we let go too soon, it will surely doom us.

I don’t know what our future holds anymore. I don’t know what’s right or wrong. I don’t even fucking know what will happen next week. But tonight, I’m taking her home and making love to her until the sun comes up tomorrow morning. And I’m going to be there at the airport, not to say goodbye, but more like, until I see you again.

This is not the end for us. Not even close. A love this deep can’t be extinguished by distance or time. My love for her only motivates me to figure this out and get back to her as quickly as I can.

Annalise Gray is the love of my life. And there isn’t a thing in this world that could keep me from her.

To read more of A Chance at Love series, visit books2read.com/KatSavageBooks.

About the Author

Kat Savage’s unique brand of storytelling ranges from tragic poetry to swoony romcoms and—at times—even a little darkness. She uses her real-life experiences to fuel every

word she puts on paper, weaving perhaps too many truths into her work. Maybe that’s what makes it so relatable. Kat resides in Louisville, Kentucky with her three beautiful children, three spoiled dogs, and her hunky spouse.

Visit her at www.thekatsavage.com or on social media:

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INK

KATE CANTERBARY

ALEXANDRA

RILEY NUDGED MY LEGS OPEN, shifted my thigh for a better angle. “Should we talk about, you know, all the shit going on?”

“Is there specific shit you’re referring to?” I asked, my words muffled as I spoke into the mattress.

“Hmm.” I heard him click a marker cap closed, sift through his box for another. Another moment passed before I felt the cool swipe of ink against the back of my leg. “The women’s health shit. The abortion shit.”

I knew he couldn’t see my pained expression and that was probably for the best. He didn’t need to worry about me. “What about it?”

He was quiet as he drew along my thigh, up my hip, over my backside. I didn’t know what he was drawing and it didn’t matter. It always came out beautifully but more than that, I loved these moments where the only thing I could do was lie still. It was a slow, barely teasing type of foreplay. It didn’t matter how worked up I got, Riley wasn’t finished until he was finished. And god forbid I smudge his work. That was a one-way ticket to orgasm denial.

“I know we’re careful,” he said. “And I know we’re in a state with laws that don’t overtly hate women but I figure you’re probably upset about all this.”

“I am,” I admitted. “For a ton of reasons. It’s great that the state has protected my rights but who knows what could happen. I could catastrophize on that topic for days. Trust me, Shap and I have had that conversation. We’ve gone down that road and we hate everything about it.”

“Don’t catastrophize,” he said.

“I’m trying not to.” A slightly hysterical laugh shot out of me, and he pressed his palm between my shoulder blades, holding me still. Holding me down. “But the part that really bothers me as a surgeon is that med students and residents in states with these insanely restrictive laws won’t learn good surgery. Abortion is healthcare. Aside from the fact that pregnant people should have the same bodily autonomy as anyone else—dead or alive—abortion is the medical treatment for many life-threatening conditions. If someone comes in and they’re septic, we do not have the time to dick around with that. But these residents are going to learn that they have to find the time to dick around with second and third opinions, with extensive documentation, with fucking lawyers and administrators. All of which is a major deterrent to practicing good medicine.”

“I’m sorry, babe.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know that,” he said, rustling for another marker. “I’m still sorry about it.”

“People are going to die,” I said softly. “That’s what will happen. And it’s stupid. We have advanced to a level where we can reliably save lives in the cases of sepsis and ectopic pregnancy, and often do it without destroying that person’s chances of carrying a pregnancy to term in the future. Actively preventing doctors from doing that is criminal.”

“I hear that,” he said, “but how are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” I mumbled against the mattress.

“Really?” He ran the marker up the back of my thigh, his knuckles brushing between my legs as he worked. It was ridiculously rude of him to turn me on while I was busy being angry. “Because I’m a little devastated for you. Regardless of where we live, the clock turned back more than half a century and I want to go scream at some people.”

“What would you scream about?”

He gave a bitter laugh as he pushed my legs apart even wider. “The slut shaming. All these douche canoes out there talking about how people shouldn’t have sex if they don’t want to get pregnant. As if it’s a one-sided gig.”

His beard scruff scraped my inner thigh and I had to choke down a groan. “What are you doing down there?”

“Art,” he replied simply.

“While that sounds lovely, you have me popped open like an oyster here. Is this something I’m going to have to explain in the locker room this week? Is Shapiro going to have questions?”

“Is Shapiro sticking her head between your legs?”

“You do realize that I have to change in and out of scrubs, right? One leg at a time, and all that.”

Riley was quiet for a minute or two. Then, “It’s cactus. And succulents.”

“What?”

“What I’m drawing,” he said. “Cactus and succulents. All manner of thorny things that can survive in the worst of conditions.”

“And…you’re drawing that on the crease of my thigh and, I’m guessing, right up to the edge of my labia.”

“Like I said. Thorny things that can survive in the worst of conditions.”

I made an attempt at glancing at him over my shoulder but he didn’t notice, his head pillowed on one thigh while he drew on the other. “I’m not sure how you want me to take that, love.”

“I don’t know,” he murmured. “I’m not great with metaphors. I just…I don’t know. It’s what made sense to me.”

He turned his head, nipped a tiny bite into my backside. “Don’t start with that unless the ink is dry.”

“I’m not starting anything. What are you talking about?” He huffed out an indignant laugh. “You’re the one rubbing yourself on the bed.”

“I’m trying to get comfortable,” I said.

“Right, right, right. That’s what you call it. Comfortable.” He ran one finger between my legs, flicked it against my clit. I snarled into the mattress. “How’s that? Comfortable now?”

“You know I’m not.”

“Then talk to me about birth control,” he said, tossing a marker back into the box. “I want you to be protected.”

I sighed. “I know I have an IUD plus you’re a big fan of pulling out and coming on my ass. That’s not a fool-proof strategy but it’s something.”

“And your tits,” he said around a marker cap. “Don’t forget your tits.”

“How could I?”

“Do you want me to get snipped?” he asked, all trace of humor gone. “I was talking to Stremmel the other day and he said it can be reversed which honestly sounds terrible but I’d rather be the one in the terrible situation than you.”

I loved this guy. I really did. He was one of the best. There were moments when I looked at him and wondered how I was so lucky. There were other moments, like when he grabbed a handful of ass cheek and held me open in the most unflattering position possible as he drew, when I had to stop myself from laughing out loud. This man was an absolute gem.

“Yeah, they can be reversed,” I said.

“We can do that,” he said. “I can get the snip. You’ll have to hold my hand the entire time and probably sedate me for a week and no matter what you do, please don’t explain anything about the procedure.” He released one cheek then went for the other. “The less I know, the better.”

“You don’t need the snip,” I said. “We’re okay.”

He capped a marker, tossed it down. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. I’d rather be punched in the balls every day for the rest of my life than put you in a risky situation.”

To this point, I’d succeeded at keeping this issue medical, which made it remote. It wasn’t personal. It was diagnostic; it was surgical. I could put distance between me and the procedure as I always did with patients. I could think in terms of hospital politics and policies. I could focus on med school education and resident training. I didn’t have to worry about myself.

But now it was all I could think about. Me and everyone else with a uterus, and how our lives were different now. Did we even belong to ourselves anymore? And if we didn’t—who did we belong to?

Tears pricked at my eyes. I knew it was a bad idea to spiral down with worst case scenarios but I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t help but feel a tremendous loss—and an unholy blast of screaming fury. I imagined myself as Godzilla, razing cities and snatching up smug politicians who couldn’t fill a one-milliliter syringe with their reproductive knowledge. I wanted to crush this anti-woman, anti-choice, anti-science faction with my great lizard tail.

“I know we’ve talked about kids,” he continued. “But we don’t have to do that. Not unless you want to.”

“I do want kids,” I said with a ton of remorse. This would’ve been so much easier if I didn’t want a baby or two of our own. We had plenty of nieces and nephews to keep me high on new baby smell and remind me that I enjoyed sleeping in on the weekends too much to have one right now. “In a few years. When we grow up.”

“That seems like a lot of pressure,” he said. “The growing up. Not getting you pregnant.”

I laughed though it only sent the tears spilling down my cheeks. “We have some practice with that.”

He ran his fingers between my legs, around the hood of my clit. “Do you feel weird about practicing now?” he asked, his touch sure and steady as he circled me. “Does it feel—I don’t know—wrong? A little fucked-up? Because I gotta be honest with you, Aly, I feel”—he leaned in, scraped his teeth over the inside of my thigh—“like I’m taking advantage of you. Like every time I’m between these plush thighs, I’m asking for something that you might not be ready to give me considering the dumpster fire you’re forced to live through these days.”

“That’s not it,” I said over my shoulder. “It’s okay. If you were a random guy in a bar expecting me to fuck you because you bought me a drink or two, it would be different. You’re…different.”

“I appreciate that very much,” he said, “though I would have no problem playing strangers in the bar with you. Name the time and place.”

“That might be fun,” I said.

“Yeah? Would you approach me? Or would I pull some gross move like sending you a drink and winking my ass off from across the bar?”

“What if I sent you the drink?”

He hummed to himself. “Ohhh, so you’re willing to make the first move. I like the sound of that. Bold. Dominant. You know, until I have you face down, ass up, and begging for mercy.”

“Kind of like I am right now?”

He slapped my ass. “You’re nowhere near begging for mercy.” He shifted then, kneeling between my thighs as he organized his markers, straightened the sheets, arranged my legs as he saw fit. “If you sent me a drink, you’d have me licking it out of the palm of your hand in about five seconds.” He slid an arm around my waist and yanked me up. He traced lines over my backside, my legs. I couldn’t see what he’d drawn but it felt amazing. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes,” I replied. His cock was hot between the cleft of my ass, hot and unbearably hard. “I won’t even make you lick anything out of my hand.”

He dipped down and kissed the back of my neck, my shoulders. “I’d take you home and sit you on my cock,” he said easily, as if he planned casual hookups for us all the time. “But I wouldn’t let you bounce around until you showed me how you rubbed your little clit.” His fingers skated up my neck as he growled. “You’d have to tell me how you get yourself off. What you think about. Who you imagine. The porn you watch, the stories you read. I’d need those details.”

“What would you do with that information?” I asked.

Riley leaned back and edged my legs apart. He dragged his thumb over my back channel while two fingers dipped inside me. “I have a few ideas. Nothing you need to worry yourself with.”

“Then I’m not sure I want to be sitting on your cock,” I mused. “If you can’t deal me into the whole story, I can’t play.”

He slapped my ass again but his hand lingered there as his fingers moved inside me. “Maybe I’m waiting for you to ask me how I get myself off. Maybe I want to tell this strong-willed mystery woman from the bar about the filthiest things lurking in my mind. Who knows, maybe I want her to tell me that our filth matches up. Puzzle pieces.”

“Fuck me and find out if our filth matches up,” I begged. I bent my leg around his, urging him closer. “Fuck me right now.”

“There’s my good girl,” he murmured.

Then he was there, his hands on my hips and his shaft pushing inside me. We groaned together and I couldn’t think past the overwhelming fullness. His moved his hand up my flanks, over my shoulders, back down again. Pressing into me. Leaving marks. His mouth was on my shoulders, down my neck, kissing and biting and sucking like he was trying to steal a piece of me for himself.

“I love the way you fit my cock,” he rasped. “This cunt is mine.” He paused, his thrusts faltering as he smoothed his hands down my back. “Is that okay? Am I allowed to say shit like that?”

A sad, wild, devastated laugh slipped out of me. “Yeah. It’s yours because I let you have it.”

“Okay, good,” he murmured to himself as he gave the outside of my thigh a quick slap. “Back to business.”

Riley slammed into me with enough force to knock the headboard against the wall. He traced the seam of my ass down to the place where we were joined, his breaths coming in broken grunts as he pulled out until only his thick crown teased at my entrance. His hips went on bucking but it gave me barely enough friction.

“If I just met you tonight,” he started, “I have no idea how to give this cunt what it wants. You’ll have to tell me. Give me all the details. Show me.”

I pushed a hand beneath me, my fingers settling on my clit. “I want your cock. All of it.” I needed fullness and pressure. I needed the delicious weight of him. “And I want you to touch me.”

Riley shoved his fingers into my hair, held my head down. I didn’t know why that edge of control worked for me but it did. It always did.

“That’s it,” he murmured. He growled, nodding as I rocked back into him. His hold loosened, his fingertips massaging my scalp in small circles before sliding down my spine. “Yes, Aly. That’s fucking it.”

I glanced over my shoulder at him, watching as he dug his fingers into my ass, his thumb pressing against my entrance, and the only words I could manage were, “I want to feel you come inside me right now.”

If it was possible, he swelled and lengthened, and I knew I’d be feeling echoes of this pounding for days.

I reached for his free hand, dragged it to my lips. I knew what he needed.

“Yes, baby,” he said. I opened my mouth and tasted my arousal on him. “Suck me. Hard. Gimme some teeth. Make it hurt a little.”

I did, and after he growled loud enough to shake the walls, I unraveled. I moaned around his fingers, drowning in the heavy drag of his shaft, the pressure of his thumb on my asshole, the frantic scribbling of my fingers over my clit. It was so much. Too much. Like he could own me from the inside out but only if I owned him too.

I bit down on the pad of his index finger and his body tightened. Every muscle pulled taut, his hips like a battering ram, his hold on me bordering on painful. He pulled his fingers from my mouth and groaned into my back.

“This cunt is mine,” he growled.

“Yours,” I breathed.

Riley stilled and I felt it then, the telltale pulse and kick that signaled his orgasm. “I fucking love you,” he whispered as he gathered up my hair and dropped kisses across my shoulders and up my neck.

“Same,” I murmured.

Riley stayed there, his chest layered over my back, his big body pinning me to the mattress. “Does my mystery woman like getting licked clean after her hookup forgets to pull out?”

“She enjoys it very much,” I said, “but I don’t want that right now. Stay right here, okay?”

He wrapped his arms around me and held me close. Then, “I really want to pick you up in a bar. New fantasy unlocked, honeybee.”

“Yeah, that worked for me too.” I laughed. “What does that mean?”

He brushed my hair to one side and kissed my cheek. “I think we’re meant for each other. It’s a damn good thing too because there’s no better canvas in the world than your ass.”

I reached back, bending my arm to grab his neck and pull him toward me. I yanked him down to meet my lips. He kissed me and I knew now what I’d known for years: Riley Walsh was mine and I was his, and that was written in an ink far more permanent than anything he’d ever drawn on my skin.

Riley and Alex’s story can be found in Preservation.

About the Author

USA Today Bestseller Kate Canterbary writes smart, steamy contemporary romances loaded with heat, heart, and happy ever afters. Kate lives on the New England coast with her husband and daughter.

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EAST OF THE SUN, WEST OF THE MOON

FROM THE BLISSFUL OMEGAVERSE SERIES

KATE KING AND JESSA WILDER

WES WALKED INTO THE KITCHEN, a wide, playful grin plastered on his face. “Morning. How’d you sleep?”

I stared at him, unblinking. His hair was wet from his shower, and I swallowed hard as a rivulet slid down his bare chest, disappearing into the waistband of his low-slung sweats. Damn.

He waved his hand in the air to get my attention, and his grin transformed into a smirk. “Buttercup?”

I shook my head to clear it. Wait. What was the question?

My attraction to Wes wasn’t a secret—not that we’d ever act on it. Well, that wasn’t really true. I would act on it, but it was a clear no on his end. We’d been friends for over a year, ever since the day he carried me out of my first mate’s house and let me move in with him. He felt pretty strongly about not crossing any lines in our friendship.

At least Wes was self-aware enough to realize what he was doing to me and my omega hormones—as embarrassing as that was. He took pity on me, grabbed a rumpled sweatshirt off the back of one of the chairs and shrugged it on before sitting down. He eyed my large bowl of cereal with obvious envy. It was only a matter of time before he’d steal it—he had the appetite of an alpha.

“I asked how your night went?” he said casually.

Oh, you mean my night listening to you and Andrew have the best sex of your lives? Torture. I ground my teeth. “It was fine.”

“Uh-oh. Famous last words.” Andrew strode into the kitchen as though summoned by my dark thoughts. “Wes, what did you do to piss off our beautiful omega?”

Our. My heart squeezed in my chest, wishing he meant the word like I wanted him to.

“It was fine,” I said. “I went to bed early.”

Wes raised an eyebrow at me while simultaneously leaning toward his alpha. Andrew paused to give Wes an affectionate nip on the neck, and then his eyes too flew to mine.

“Sure, beautiful,” he said, blue eyes scanning me. “Is that why you look like a squirrel moved into your hair?”

My hand flew to my head and glared at Andrew when I touched the sleek ponytail I’d done earlier. He smirked at me, and I rolled my eyes in response. Wes’s alpha treated me like a little sister, which was so not what I was going for.

Where Wes looked like he belonged in a motorcycle gang with his long hair pulled back into a bun and a full sleeve of tattoos, Andrew’s hair was perfectly in place, and the blue of his scrubs brought out his eyes. You could see his upbringing shining through in the way he stood with perfect posture and the fastidious way he took care of his clothes. I thought he might even iron his scrubs—come to think of it, that might be a doctor thing more than a rich-people thing.

I met Dr. Andrew Easton about two years ago when a creepy alpha who wanted to mate my best friend, Bliss, kidnapped me, and I woke up in the emergency room. Andrew was my doctor, but it turned out he was also a childhood friend of Wes’s. They’d gone in very different directions in life and separated until they found each other again in my hospital room.

Andrew slid his hands down Wes’s shoulders and placed a possessive kiss on the mating marks on the side of Wes’s neck. “And how are you feeling this morning?”

Red crept up Wes’s face, and he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth.

Warmth pooled in my lower stomach. I had to stop this immediately before I found myself all wound up with no way to ‘unwind.’ “Ugh. Can you not?”

Wes smiled at me from across the table. His eyes danced with mischief. “What’s your problem?”

“What’s my problem? Only that you two are practically oozing love, and I’m over here single.”

Maybe if I was willing to date anyone else, I could change my single status, but…these two were endgame for me. Or, at least, that’s what I wanted. The idea wasn’t even that crazy…Andrew was an alpha, and Wes was a beta, and here I was, an omega, already living in their house.

After one of the sweetest and most frustrating courtships I’d ever seen, Andrew moved in with Wes and me three months ago. Wes seemed fun-loving and carefree, but when he dug into something, he was equally stubborn. In their case, he believed Andrew was too good for him. Old story of the wrong side of the tracks. One poor and one rich. Wes had it in his head that he’d never fit into Andrew’s world. The problem with Wes’s theory was Andrew didn’t care about any of that. He thought Wes hung the sun and moon. I understood the feeling.

Andrew fought for Wes. Honestly, sometimes I didn’t know if I should get between them or make popcorn. There was so much tension building. Then one day, it just snapped, and instead of pushing each other away, they fell in love. More accurately, they admitted their love for each other. I honestly thought they would kick me out, but both Andrew and Wes assured me that this was as much my home as theirs. Thank God for that because it might’ve killed me to walk away.

Now, if we could all get on the same page, that would be great, but today did not seem to be that day. Andrew searched my face for who knows what, but it was Wes’s expression that had my heart sinking.

“You lost your mate,” Wes said heavily. “You can’t just expect to go out and date right away.”

“Ha! I lost him?” I blinked incredulously. “We killed him. It’s been way more than long enough. How much longer should I have to wait to date?”

Andrew opened his mouth, but Wes gave him a look that clearly said stay out of it. Andrew squeezed Wes’s shoulders in some kind of silent signal I didn’t understand.

“We don’t know how long the effects of the broken mate bond will last. What if there’re repercussions if you date someone else?”

“Is there any data to suggest that’s the case?” I addressed my question to Andrew.

He shook his head. “None.”

“You still shouldn’t date,” Wes practically growled. “Alphas are assholes.”

Andrew laughed at that, and Wes met his gaze. “You don’t count. You’re my pack.”

Nerves racked through me as I tried to bring up what I wanted most. The old Flora would’ve just asked them out and damned the consequences, but now I would do anything not to lose them. “Will you guys start looking for an omega?”

Both Wes and Andrew’s attention snapped to me, their pause hanging in the air.

“Why would you think that?” Andrew’s tone was cool, smooth, cutting off any signs of how he was feeling.

I ignored the flush crawling up my cheeks. “You’re a pack now. At least part of one. I just thought…”

“Thought what?” His tone was soft, coaxing me to reply.

I shrugged, not meeting either of their gazes. “That you’d want to complete it with your own omega.”

Andrew’s fingers tightened on Wes’s shoulders. “One day, we’ll invite our perfect omega into our pack. We just haven’t…figured it out yet.”

Wes made a low rumbling sound, drawing my attention. “Is that what you want? To be with a pack?”

Desperately.

I had to be careful with my reply or else Andrew would smell my lie. “Well, I am an omega.”

Wes’s fingers gripped the table so hard his knuckles turned white. “And thanks to you and Bliss, omegas don’t have to be owned by packs. You’re free to do what you want with your life.”

I blinked a few times, fighting back the sting in my eyes. Wes’s words felt like rejection, even if he didn’t know that was what he was doing.

“I want to be in a pack.” I left out the word “your.” I wanted to be in their pack or no pack.

Andrew’s head tilted as he watched me, the corner of his lip lifting slightly. He was entirely too observant for his own good.

Wes, on the other hand, stood up, grabbing his plate a little too aggressively. “Careful. We don’t always get what we want.”

I looked between him and Andrew. They were exactly what I wanted.

“IT’S NOT FAIR.” I collapsed on Bliss’s sofa. The softness of the leather spoke to how expensive it was, even if it looked “rustic.” We had a million packets to prepare for this weekend’s omega event, but I didn’t feel up for anything except lying here and complaining.

Bliss stood in the kitchen, watching me. She leaned against the island, her violet-tipped hair pulled into a high, messy bun. “What’s not fair?”

She’d just put the twins down for their nap, and she looked like she could’ve gone for one herself. Guilt trickled in. I shouldn’t be bothering her with my petty problems. “You know what? Nothing. I’ve got this.”

She held up her hand and pointed at the basket full of event supplies. “You are not getting out of helping. Spit it out, Flora.”

I lowered myself to the floor and started stacking the papers on the coffee table. “Wes and Andrew don’t think I’m ready to date.”

She raised a brow and sat across from me. “Are you?”

I neatly folded one of the information packets. “So freaking ready.”

“You mean you’re ready to date them?” she said, taking the pages from me and placing them in their corresponding envelopes.

Uncharacteristic nervousness had me stumbling over my words. “Oh, well, you know…”

She dropped the envelope on the table and huffed. “Don’t bother denying it. You should see the way you look at them. For that matter, the way they stare at you. Honestly, there are days I’m surprised you don’t spontaneously combust.”

I went to disagree, but Bliss gave me a don’t argue with me look she’d mastered since joining a pack with four alphas.

“Okay, you know I’ve always had a kind of…connection with Wes. Well, that’s grown since he’s mated with Andrew. Now it’s more of an incessant pull. In both directions at once but not in a bad way.”

“East and West?” Bliss grinned. “Or, Easton and Weston.”

“Ha. Ha.” I said sarcastically. “The problem is they don’t feel the same.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“They straight up told me not to date. Wes was pretty aggressive about it.”

Bliss hummed in the back of her throat, mulling it over. “Do you ever think he’s jealous?”

Warmth flooded my chest, and I gave myself a moment to believe it before shoving it down. “Don’t you think they’d tell me if they wanted me to join their pack?”

“Have you told them?” she said, knowing full well I hadn’t.

“They think I’m fragile. They keep bringing up the broken mate bond…as if I wanted it in the first place. The effects only lasted a few months, which I assume is because I hated him.”

Bliss gave me a long look. “You really think they still believe you aren’t ready?”

I folded a piece of paper and jammed it into an envelope harder than necessary. “I know they do.”

“Alright, we just need to have them get to know you without their unfounded bias getting in the way.”

“How am I supposed to do that? It’s not like I can have a do-over.”

Bliss’s smile took up her entire face. “There is one way.” She reached over, grabbing her laptop from the couch. “Let me just pull up the site.”

I sucked in a breath when she spun the screen to face me. It was an alpha-and-omega dating site. A way to know for sure your instinctual hormones weren’t what drove your emotions.

“Bliss, that system is brilliant and all, but I don’t need help finding my pack. I already know who I want.”

“Obviously, but what if you could reach out to them anonymously? Keep all the history out of it.”

The sharp sting of a knife dug between my ribs. “They’re on this site?” They mentioned the possibility of finding an omega. I just didn’t think they meant right now.

Bliss gave me a knowing look. “I highly doubt it.”

“Okay…so it was a great plan and all, but if they aren’t on there, it’s not going to work. You can’t just reach out to anyone you want.”

She gave me a wide, mischievous smile. “Just leave it up to me.”

TUESDAY SEPTEMBER 6TH

(9:12 PM) DRALPHA92: So, what do we tell our kids about how we met?

A THRILL RUSHED through me when Andrew’s text popped up on my screen. “DRALPHA92” wasn’t fooling anyone.

When Bliss told me she’d not only managed to get them to sign up but also set us up, I was overwhelmed. A part of me hated that they’d joined. It meant they were actively looking for an omega, and it felt like a sharp object dug into my ribs when she explained everything. I took in a deep breath and straightened my shoulders. This was my last chance to convince them that I was their omega, and I wasn’t going to waste it.

(9:14 PM) BUTTERCUPPP: Hey. Um, IDK. I’m bad with this stuff.

(9:14 PM) BUTTERCUPPP: Good line, though.

(9:15 PM) DRALPHA92: Wasn’t a line. Serious question. How are you supposed to tell people you connected with a pack mate online?

I smiled down at the message, picturing Andrew in the break room at the hospital writing to me.

(9:17 PM) BUTTERCUPPP: Pack mate? Do you have a pack already?

(9:17 PM) DRALPHA92: Almost. I have a bonded, and we’re looking to build a pack.

It was nice to know he was being himself, at least—not that I would have expected any different. I tried to think about what someone anonymous would say. Someone who wasn’t me and didn’t know them—just a normal omega looking for a pack.

(9:19 PM) BUTTERCUPPP: Oh, that’s awesome *smiley face emoji*

(9:19 PM) BUTTERCUPPP: Same.

(9:19 PM) BUTTERCUPPP: Looking for a pack, I mean, not the bonded part.

I groaned and flopped back into my pillows. Why was this weird? I texted with Wes and Andrew all the time—aside from Bliss, they were like my only friends. I needed to relax.

(9:21 PM) DRALPHA92: I knew what you meant. *smiley face emoji* So what’s your name? Or do I just call you Buttercup?

(9:23 PM) BUTTERCUPPP: Buttercup is fine! Is that normal for this kind of thing?

(9:24 PM) DRALPHA92: I guess, I don’t know. I’ve never been on one of these apps before.

(9:24 PM) BUTTERCUPPP: Me neither.

(9:25 PM) DRALPHA92: Whatever works for you, Buttercup.

WEDNESDAY SEPTEMBER 7TH

(5:47 AM) DRALPHA92: Good Morning! *dancing emoji, smiley face emoji, dancing emoji*

I WOKE to the sound of my phone buzzing beside my face. Disoriented, I rolled over and blinked at the screen. Fuck.

Sitting up abruptly, I swung my legs over the side of the bed. It was only a tiny bit later—okay, thirty minutes later—than I’d meant to wake up. Dry shampoo would have to cut it this morning if I wanted to have any time for breakfast.

As I dashed over to my bureau, I remembered the reason I’d woken up in the first place.

(5:53 AM) BUTTERCUPPP: Hey! You’re up early.

(5:54 AM) DRALPHA92: Yeah. I really am a doctor, IDK if I mentioned that—I had the overnight shift, so I actually never went to bed.

(5:54 AM) BUTTERCUPPP: Ooh sorry, that must be hard.

(5:55 AM) DRALPHA92: Yeah, it is actually. Especially ‘cause I’m away from home about half the week.

I nodded along as I pulled my hair into a haphazard ponytail, as though Andrew could see my nonverbal response. It was hard for everyone that he was away so often. Well, it was a lot on Wes, and I definitely wasn’t supposed to care as much as I did. I loved that Andrew was so good at his job, though, and that he cared so much about helping people.

(5:58 AM) DRALPHA92: So actually, I was going to ask if you wanted to conference in my bonded? Like a group chat.

I glanced at the wall between my room and Wes and Andrew’s room. There was no way Wes was up yet, anxiously waiting to talk to Buttercup—I’d have heard him get up. I was only up this early because I had to meet Bliss at the Institute for another planning meeting, and we could only use the auditorium before classes started for the day. I looked back down at my phone and typed out a quick reply to Andrew…um, Dr. Alpha.

(6:02 AM) BUTTERCUPPP: Sure. Hang on, let me just figure out how to do that.

(6:03 AM) DRALPHA92: No problem, I got it. He’s anxiously waiting to be able to talk to you.

*DRALPHA92 added BETA4U to the chat*

(6:04 AM) DRALPHA92: There. I’m sure he’ll text when he wakes up. Have a great day! *smiley face emoji*

I MADE my way down the hall to the kitchen for breakfast, more awake than I would usually be this early. Maybe it was that I’d finally gotten some sleep, what with Andrew not being here to make noise through the wall, or maybe it was the idea of finally dating again—even if it was a little underhanded.

Down the hall, Wes’s bedroom door creaked open, and my head popped up eagerly. “Morning!”

“Smmmhh,” Wes mumbled.

The bathroom door slammed, and the water ran as he brushed his teeth. I laughed. I knew he wouldn’t be fully functional yet this morning.

He appeared five minutes later, his hair free of its usual knot for once and eyes half-open. “What’cha doing?”

“Um…” I glanced down at the cup of coffee on the counter I was stirring sugar into. “This?”

He scoffed, and I could practically hear him rolling his eyes. “I meant, why are you up?”

“Meeting Bliss. We have another meeting over at the Institute.”

“…Right.”

Wes paused for too long and spoke with a faraway tone, like he wasn’t listening. I turned around, confused. He was staring down at his phone, typing something so fast his thumbs danced across the screen.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I made no move to reach for it. I cocked an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

“Huh?” He jerked his head up. “Sorry. What’d you say?”

My phone buzzed again, and I shifted, wondering if he could hear the noise. “Nothing. I got to run.”

“Sure. Have a good day, Buttercup.”

I grabbed a protein bar out of the cabinet, put my coffee in a to-go mug, and dashed out the door. Pausing on the front step, I shifted the mug to the crook of my elbow and grabbed my phone. The buzzing was getting out of control now.

(7:02 AM) BETA4U: hey

(7:02 AM) DRALPHA92: What he means to say is: “hey darling, how’s your morning going?”

(7:03 AM) BETA4U: ^ this

(7:04 AM) DRALPHA92 *eyeroll emoji*

I snorted a laugh. That sounded about right.

(7:09 AM) BUTTERCUPPP: I’m glad to be in the company of such riveting conversationalists.

Wes’s reply came seconds later as I was getting into my car.

(7:10 AM) BETA4U: I aim to please, baby

My stomach did an annoying flip thing, and I flushed as I pulled out of the driveway. Somehow, I couldn’t help but take that to mean all sorts of things.

THURSDAY SEPTEMBER 8TH

(12:17 PM) BETA4U: hey…what’cha doing

(8:04 PM) BUTTERCUPPP: Sorry, I totally missed this earlier.

(8:07 PM) DRALPHA92: No worries. It worked out ‘cause I’m here now, too.

(8:07 PM) BUTTERCUPPP: Earlier when you asked, I was at my friend’s house helping with her kids. She has 1 yr/old twins, and she’s pregnant again.

(8:08 PM) BETA4U: lol I bet her pack is happy

(8:08 PM) BUTTERCUPPP: They are.

(8:09 PM) BUTTERCUPPP: Why’d you assume she’s an omega?

(8:11 PM) BETA4U: cause you are…not sure

(8:11 PM) DRALPHA92: What are you doing now?

(8:13 PM) BUTTERCUPPP: Nothing. Just about to head out to my car now, to go home and *sleeping emoji* My friend’s kids are probably going to be alphas, and my god, they are making that clear.

(8:13 PM) BUTTERCUPPP: *laughing emoji* They’re a handful but in a fun way.

(8:14 PM) BUTTERCUPPP: Sorry I keep talking about me…what are you guys up to?

(8:15 PM) BETA4U: nothing…waiting for our roommate to get home

(8:18 PM) BUTTERCUPPP: Oh, you have a roommate?

(8:20 PM) BETA4U: yeah since before we bonded

(8:23 PM) BUTTERCUPPP: Oh, why are you waiting for them?

(8:23 PM) DRALPHA92: We just like to make sure they get home safe.

I stopped short, about to get into my car, and leaned against the half-open door, my heart pounding. My thumb hovered over the keypad—I was tempted to push it. I could ask why…or something else. See what they said about me.

But I was scared to know.

FRIDAY SEPTEMBER 9TH

(4:10 PM) BETA4U: how’s your thing today

(4:10 PM) BUTTERCUPPP: Good! I’m ready to get out of here, but I’m really glad the students are happy.

(4:11 PM) BETA4U: what’s this event again

(4:13 PM) BUTTERCUPPP: Informational interviews for the students with women in leadership. It’s like a career day/networking kind of thing.

(4:13 PM) BETA4U: that’s amazing

(4:13 PM) BETA4U: seriously cool you do stuff like that

(4:15 PM) BUTTERCUPPP: Thanks. I really do love doing it. I’m just grumpy right now because my friend won’t let me eat any of the food for the speakers, and I missed lunch *laughing emoji*

(4:17 PM) BETA4U: what’s your favorite food

(4:20 PM) BUTTERCUPPP: Planning to cook?

(4:20 PM) BETA4U: fuck no I can’t cook anything other than basics…but I’m great at ordering take out

(4:22 PM) BUTTERCUPPP: *three laughing emojis*

(4:22 PM) BUTTERCUPPP: I feel so provided for, hunter-gatherer style

(4:22 PM) BETA4U: seriously what do you like

I FURROWED MY BROW. It was weird because Wes—my Wes—knew what I liked. But he wasn’t asking me; he was asking the omega he and Andrew were dating. Surreal.

(4:25 PM) BUTTERCUPPP: For take out? I’d keep it simple and go for pizza, but I like mushrooms and onions. Allllll the slimy things *laughing*

(4:28 PM) BETA4U: *skull emoji*

(4:30 PM) BETA4U: sometime I’ll get that for you

“Flora!” Bliss called from across the wide auditorium. Her voice echoed off the walls, and everyone in the vicinity turned to look. “There you are. I need you. What are you doing?”

“Sorry.” I grinned at my friend and stuffed my phone into my bag.

Bliss walked over a little slower than she normally would. She was barely showing yet, but she said her ankles ‘already knew’ this time around.

“Talking to the guys?”

“Yeah. We’re pretending to get to know each other.” I paused. “Well, I’m pretending. I guess they really are getting to know ‘BUTTERCUPPP.’” I made quotes in the air with my fingers.

Bliss rolled her eyes and pushed her purple hair out of her face. “If you wanted to be incognito, you picked a pretty obvious screen name.”

I shrugged. “I couldn’t think of anything else.”

Bliss wrinkled her nose as we both scented my lie. She raised an eyebrow at me.

“Fine,” I sighed. “I’m not trying that hard to be sneaky, I guess.”

Bliss grinned. “You could always move past the get-to-know-you stage. Just try and have a real conversation. That seems the most direct thing to me—” She paused, glancing up like she was thinking. “—given the circumstances, I guess.”

“How?” I whined, feeling like a preteen with her first crush. “I can’t have a normal conversation over text. I come off weird in writing.”

My phone buzzed again in my pocket, and I pulled it out without thinking.

(4:35 PM) Wes: this is what I feel like you look like right now

I swallowed a laugh. He’d texted me a picture of Andrew from the side, with his head lolling back against the couch, clearly asleep.

I snapped a selfie of myself, pretending to sleep standing up and sent it back.

(4:37 PM) Flora: What? Effortlessly sexy *laughing emoji*

“Sorry,” I said to Bliss absently. “Distracted.”

She gave me a bemused look. “Oh no, carry on. I’m just waiting for you to catch on, don’t mind me.”

(4:40 PM) Wes: I was going to say bored…but what you said works too

(4:41 PM) Flora: Yeah, sure. You’re lucky I’m not there to smell your lies lololol

(4:50 PM) Wes: when will you be home

(4:50 PM) Flora: An hour or two. Why?

(4:51 PM) Wes: I ordered from Sorrento’s…should be here when you get back

I glanced down at my phone twice to make sure I was in the right chat. I was—definitely, Wes ordering pizza for me, after ‘the other omega’ had said she liked it. Maybe it just made him think of it?

Maybe I was just hungry and being grumpy, but this time, the swoopy feeling in my stomach wasn’t so great.

SATURDAY SEPTEMBER 10TH

(7:08 PM) BUTTERCUPPP: How’s your Saturday night?

(7:15 PM) DRALPHA92: Oh, it’s been pretty relaxed. The ER is quiet tonight. Only one guy came in with a vegetable up his ass, that’s barely a third of my average.

(7:16 PM) BETA4U: what kind of vegetable

(7:18 PM) BUTTERCUPPP: *eggplant emoji*

(7:18 PM) DRALPHA92: Close. Squash.

(7:19 PM) BETA4U: Jesus fucking christ

(7:20 PM) BUTTERCUPPP: *crying laughing emoji*

(7:20 PM) BUTTERCUPPP: Well there goes my Friday night plans.

(7:20 PM) BETA4U: ??

(7:20 PM) BUTTERCUPPP: He took my idea, now what am I going to do?

(7:39 PM) BETA4U: come hang out

MY HEART POUNDED DOUBLE TIME, and I looked up at the wall beside me as though I could see through it to Wes’s room. I currently sat curled on our living room couch, half watching some episode of some new reality show. Wes was uncharacteristically absent, having hidden in his room for most of the day since Andrew had left for work. I frowned down at the last message, realizing he expected a response.

(7:50 PM) BUTTERCUPPP: Oh? What are you doing?

(7:52 PM) BETA4U: nothing. We could watch a movie or something

My stomach churned with dread. What the hell was he expecting me to do if I—er, the other omega—came over? Would I just stay in my room?

(7:54 PM) DRALPHA92: What? No way, I’m not there *winky face* Wait until I’m home.

(7:56 PM) BUTTERCUPPP: I don’t know…

An angry feeling, almost like jealousy, raged in my gut. Which was stupid. I couldn’t be jealous of myself.

(7:59 PM) BUTTERCUPPP: When will you be back?

(8:02 PM) DRALPHA92: My shift ends at 9.

I wrung my hands in the hem of my T-shirt, no idea what to say. I couldn’t exactly say I’d meet them at my own house. Granted, if I met them in general, they’d realize it was me.

(8:02 PM) BETA4U: how about dinner

(8:07 PM) DRALPHA92: I’ll drop you a pin.

My heart pounded with anxiety, but I couldn’t think of anything to say.

(8:10 PM) BUTTERCUPPP: Sure. Sounds great.

I WRAPPED a small section of hair around my hot iron as the question played through my mind. I watched the strand bounce in a perfect curl as I released the clamp.

I’d chosen a formfitting, royal blue dress that cinched at the side and emphasized my hourglass shape. My breasts were pushed up on full display, cresting the boatneck cut.

I finished the last curl and let it fall forward to rest against my shoulders. Pain radiated through my chest. What if they’re disappointed it’s me? What do they picture ‘the omega’ looks like?

They’d connected with someone they didn’t know. Someone they obviously cared about, but would all that change the second I walked through that door?

The sound of the front door opening and Andrew greeting Wes drew my attention. He must have gotten off work early and rushed home for their date.

“Heaven forbid he made the omega wait,” I grumbled under my breath.

I ignored the voice in my head telling me it was ridiculous to be jealous of myself—it didn’t have to be rational. The problem wasn’t that it was me; it was that they didn’t know.

They saw me every day but were still excited to see someone else. Whereas there was no one else for me other than them. It wouldn’t matter if a thousand alphas had reached out. There were only two men I would have considered.

I threw a robe over my dress, tucked my hair behind my shoulders, and opened the bathroom door.

“She’s ours now. Everything is going to be right.” Andrew’s soft voice was barely audible from near the front door.

“What if she’s disappointed?” Wes’s words echoed my thoughts. But unlike me, he was worried about a stranger—not the only two people he loved.

“She won’t be,” Andrew replied. “If the past several weeks have proven anything, she’s meant to be with our pack.”

The backs of my eyes burned, and I blinked heavily, trying to stop the tears that threatened to stream down my cheeks.

This had gone terribly wrong.

I wanted them to know I belonged in their pack. For them to look at me and just know like I did with them.

I backed up, closing the door quietly behind me, not wanting to draw their attention. I leaned my forehead against the cool wood of my door and clenched my jaw at the sound of keys jingling.

They were leaving to see their ‘new omega’. Leaving me.

The door vibrated with Wes’s knock. “We’re heading out.”

I choked down my sob, knowing what would come next. I took a deep breath and fought to keep my voice steady. “I’m going to call it an early night. Have a good time.”

A soft chuckle made its way through the door, and my fist clenched at my sides. What was so funny about them going out to meet an omega when I was right here?

“See you in a bit, Buttercup.”

I shouldn’t have used it as my username because the nickname stung. Did he think of me when he called her—me—that?

The second the door locked behind them, I left my room to pour myself a large glass of wine and prepared myself for the long night ahead. There was going to be heartache all around because I wasn’t going to that restaurant as planned. I couldn’t stand to see the look in their eyes when it was me and not some other beautiful omega.

Instead, I went back into my room, locked the door, and climbed into bed.

It wasn’t long before my phone vibrated next to me. I rolled over—regretting that I hadn’t bothered to change into something more comfortable before climbing into bed—and scowled at the phone.

(9:10) DRALPHA92: You lost, Buttercup? Need directions? *laughing emoji*

(9:30) BETA4U: are you alright. Do you need me to come get you

(9:45) DRALPHA92: We’re worried. Where are you?

My heart squeezed in my chest. I planned to ignore their text, effectively standing them up, then proceeding to ghost them, but there was a hint of panic in their messages that I couldn’t ignore.

(9:48) BUTTERCUPPP: I’m sorry, I won’t be coming tonight.

(9:48) BETA4U: is everything okay

(9:50) BUTTERCUPPP: Yes. I’m fine.

(9:50) DRALPHA92: There you go using that word again.

(9:52) BUTTERCUPPP: I just can’t.

(9:53) BETA4U: ok. We can reschedule

My fingers paused on the screen, knowing the next words were going to end it all. I thought this was my best shot, but it turned out to be our undoing.

(10:01) BUTTERCUPPP: No. This isn’t going to work. I’m sorry for wasting your time.

I turned my phone off, ignoring the flood of messages coming in. This was for the best.

I finished my wine in a large gulp before curling on my side and wrapping my arms around my spare pillow. It felt like my ribs were contracting on my chest with each breath. This was it. A cry escaped with the thought.

IT COULDN’T HAVE BEEN over fifteen minutes before the front door slammed open.

The scent of their anger and hurt was so strong it filtered in through the crack under my door. Expecting them to make a quick retreat to their room, I jumped when one of them pounded on the door.

“Flora, come out here.” Wes’s voice was hard, edged with anger.

Good. I had anger of my own. I hated feeling like I was the only one that wanted this relationship, but something deep down told me that wasn’t true. That if they just got out of their own way, they’d see what I saw. That we were already a pack. I pulled my shoulders back, tightened the belt of my robe, and opened the door wide, ready to fight them, fight for us.

Compared to how they looked leaving, they looked horrible. Wes’s hair was half pulled out of his bun, leaving strands around his face. Andrew’s tie was loosened partially, and the normally perfectly-put-together alpha’s clothes looked like he’d been pulling on them.

I placed my hands on my hips and hissed out the words “We need to talk—”

Wes growled, cutting me off. “Why didn’t you come to the restaurant?”

I froze in place as his words swirled around my brain, trying to make sense of them. “Why didn’t I come to the restaurant?”

“Yes, that’s what we want to know. Why didn’t you come meet us at the restaurant?”

The air whooshed out of my lungs with Wes’s words. “How? You didn’t know.”

“We knew. We never would have joined that site had Bliss not explained to us the plan.” Andrew’s gaze bore into mine. “We’ve always known.”

A sob broke through as I looked at them, and Wes pulled me into his arms. His warmth surrounded me, and I let him catch my weight. He kissed the top of my head. “I’m sorry. We should’ve told you sooner.”

I sniffed. This was stupid. “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have done it in the first place.”

Andrew chuckled. “It wasn’t all bad. You got Wes out of his own way. Honestly, it was pretty brilliant.”

A small, hesitant smile grew. “Did it work?”

“Yeah. It worked.” Andrew entwined our fingers, pulling me toward the kitchen. Wes stayed close enough that I could still feel his heat on my back.

I stood awkwardly in the kitchen, regarding them both. Andrew bent to grab a water, and Wes leaned against the counter, watching me.

I drank the entire bottle in a few sips and handed it back to Andrew’s waiting hand.

“Feel better?” he asked, tossing it into the recycle bin.

“A little.” I wrung my hands in front of me. “So, you knew all along?”

“Every second.” Wes’s tone was serious, leaving no room for doubt. He pulled me back to his chest and dropped his lips to my shoulder. “You never have to worry. You were always our only choice. You’re meant for us.”

My heart hammered, and I turned my head, capturing Wes’s mouth with mine. A low moan escaped my lips as his tongue dipped between my teeth. He kissed me like he was a man dying of thirst. Like I was the only thing that gave him life.

Andrew grazed my jaw with his hands, pulling my attention forward, and dropped his head to mine. “I know we haven’t known each other as long as you and Wes, but I swear you’ve been our destiny all along. You were made for us, and we were made for you.” He captured my mouth before I could respond, and I dropped my head back against Wes’s chest, reveling in the feeling of being pressed between them.

My heart swelled. Between them was where I belonged. Wes was fiery and intense, and Andrew was calm and steady, while I could be both. They were my east and west. My sun and moon.

I pulled back, taking a raspy breath, and the words were out of my mouth as if it was the easiest thing in the world. “I love you.” I turned to the side and kissed along the underside of Wes’s jaw. “I love both of you.”

“Thank fuck. I don’t think I could’ve lasted another day without hearing that,” Wes said, running his nose up the curve of my neck. “I think I fell for you the second I saw you. Broken on that bed. All I wanted…needed was to protect you. But you weren’t broken, were you, Buttercup? No, you’re the fiercest of all of us.”

Andrew pulled at my robe’s belt, and Wes helped slip it from my shoulders. I reached back and dug my fingers into his hair, pulling it out of its bun. Then I grasped Andrew’s shoulder and pulled them closer, needing their touch. He caught my mouth, his tongue sliding against mine, and devoured my needy sounds.

Andrew’s touch turned firm on my jaw, tilting my head until I met his gaze. “I love you more than I could ever express, but I promise I’ll spend the rest of our lives showing you.”

Warmth pooled in my stomach at the same time a giddy, tingly emotion floated through me. After everything I’d been through, I was getting everything I’d ever wanted. I trailed both my hands down Andrew’s chest and tugged his shirt from his pants. “Off. Now.”

He reached behind him, pulling it over his head with one hand, buttons tumbling to the floor with the force of it. Wes removed his shirt, and I moaned when the heat of their chests sank into my skin. “I need…I need.”

Wes bit my ear, and my clit throbbed. “We know what you need. Let us take care of you.”

Andrew captured Wes’s mouth beside me, drawing out a loud groan from him, and rocked his hard cock against my stomach. I’d seen them kiss, but it was intense knowing that this time I’d be a part of it.

Wes’s fingers skimmed my sides and reached below the hem of my dress before pulling it over my head.

Andrew took a step back and wet his bottom lip as his gaze trailed over my purple bra and matching panties. “You’re perfect. Beautiful.”

He lowered, sucking my nipple through the lace of my bra, and my eyes rolled back. The heat of his mouth sent tingles down my spine.

Wes slowly removed the straps of my bra and unhooked the back, letting the sheer fabric hit the floor. He growled from over my shoulder. “You’re fucking delicious.” He lifted my breast in his hands, feeding one of my nipples to a starving-looking Andrew.

He sucked it into his mouth, and I felt a direct pull in my core.

Wes worked my breast in his hands, rolling my nipples between his fingers as Andrew kissed his way down my stomach, dropping to his knees.

He nuzzled his nose against my panty-covered clit and looked up, directing his words to Wes. “She smells so fucking good.” He hooked his fingers under the thin, damp fabric of my panties and dragged them down my legs.

Wes growled into my ear, and his words set me on fire. “Spread for him. Let him see that pretty pussy of yours.”

I did as he said, and Andrew groaned. “She’s so wet for us. She’s dripping down her thighs.”

Wes gripped Andrew’s hair and pulled his mouth against me. “You better lick it up. We don’t want to waste it.”

“Fuck.” Andrew’s tongue licked up my thigh, and he let out a possessive growl, never stopping his slow, seductive laps. The closer he got to my clit, the more I ground against Wes.

“That’s it, Buttercup. Watch the way he eats you. Watch how much he loves it.”

Heat bubbled over as every one of my muscles strained in tension. “So close.” My words came out in a plea.

Andrew sucked my clit hard and thrust two fingers into me in answer. Gasping for breath, I shattered around them. He ran his tongue over my sensitive skin in slow, long licks until my legs gave out from under me.

Wes spun me in his arms, my breasts pressed against his chest, and placed gentle kisses along my temple. “That was so fucking hot. If I didn’t crave you so much, I could watch him eat you all day.”

He lifted me by my thighs. I wrapped my legs around his back, letting him carry me to their bedroom, and Andrew followed close behind.

Wes kicked off his pants and boxers without putting me down, and we both stilled as his cock glided through my slick folds. He placed us on our knees in the center of his king-size bed, running his nose along mine. “Fuck. If we’re not careful, I’m going to come too early.”

Andrew joined us, his now naked cock between the cheeks of my ass, and kissed the back of my neck. “I can’t wait to watch you fuck him.”

His words sent a thrill through me. It wasn’t them and me. It was us. A pack.

Andrew’s hand came between us. He cupped my breast before grazing down my stomach and grasping Wes’s cock.

Wes sucked in a breath, and his head fell back as Andrew stroked him. I suddenly understood why they enjoyed watching me with the other. It was one of the hottest things I’d ever seen. Andrew’s hand tightened, his thumb dragging Wes’s precum down his length, and asked me, “You ready for him?”

I was more than ready. My slick pooled below me, and I had no doubt Andrew could scent it. He guided Wes’s cock to my entrance, and we all groaned as he slid inside. I sucked in a shaky breath when he rocked his hips. A wave rose with the growing pressure until I was slamming myself against his cock, chasing the crest.

Andrew rubbed my clit between his fingers, matching Wes’s rhythm. “That’s it, beautiful. Come all over his cock.”

The agonizing pressure exploded through me with my orgasm, leaving me a whimpering mess against Wes’s shoulder. He slowed down, giving me time to recover.

I took a deep breath before lifting my head and smiled. “That was intense.”

Wes bit the corner of his lip. “You ready for more?”

I nodded. I would always be ready for them.

Andrew banded an arm below my chest, supporting me, and pushed the tip of his cock against where Wes already filled me.

I gripped Wes’s shoulders. I wanted it too much to stop them.

Andrew kissed just below my ear. “You want to take both of us, don’t you?”

He stilled, and I desperately needed more of him. “Yes.”

He bit my neck, not hard enough to mark. “Your next heat, I’m going to sink my teeth into you until everyone knows you’re ours.”

I whimpered, wanting to be claimed, wishing we didn’t have to wait.

Andrew grazed my ear with his teeth. “Such a good girl. I’ll be gentle.”

I met Wes’s stormy eyes as he slid out of me until only the head of his cock remained, making room for his lover. “Breathe, Buttercup.”

He took a deep breath, and I copied him as they both filled me. My sight went white with the stretch, and a moan pulled from my chest. My breath shook as my omega body instinctively stretched to fit them.

Andrew captured Wes’s mouth over my shoulder, our new position bringing us all closer together. “Wes, you feel so fucking good inside her.” He rocked his hips, driving his cock deeper as if to prove his words.

Wes cupped my face and met my gaze. “You ready?”

“Always.”

He smiled before thrusting hard into me and catching my moans with his mouth. Andrew matched his rhythm, bringing me back to the edge. Our hands traveled over each other until I couldn’t tell whose touch was whose.

I sucked in a breath as Andrew’s knot grew, increasing the delicious stretch around them.

“Fuck, I can’t last. You’re so tight.” Wes’s words tumbled out of him as his thrust turned jerky, his groan filling the air as he coated me with his cum before pulling out.

Wes’s mouth captured mine in a hungry kiss. “You are so fucking perfect.” He gripped my hips, holding me in place. “Make her come.”

Andrew growled behind me and moved in hard, shallow thrusts, his knot preventing him from pulling out completely. I whimpered with the rapid approach of my next release.

“That’s it.” Wes pressed his thumb to my clit. “Come one more time for us.”

His words washed over me, and I soaked Andrew’s knot with my orgasm, dragging him over the edge. His hot cum pulsed inside me until I could feel it leaking down my legs.

I struggled to take raspy breaths, my face buried in Wes’s chest. After a few moments, they guided me to lie down on my sides, surrounded by them, our legs tangled between us.

I yawned, stretching, enjoying the tug of Andrew’s knot. He kissed the crown of my head. “Get some rest.”

Wes leaned his forehead against mine, and a wide smile lifted his lips. “You’re going to need it.”

About the Authors

Kate King is an author, caffeine addict, and avid reader from Boston, Massachusetts. She began writing fantasy and romance at a young age, and hopes to publish thirty books before turning thirty. She lives in a converted church with her husband and two cats, and often writes in cemeteries.

Jessa Wilder is a Canadian author of steamy contemporary and unconventional romance. When not writing, you can find her chasing around her six-year-old son, walking her dog in the woods, and devouring Kindle Unlimited books.

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WORTH THE WAIT

A ROOKIE REBELS BONUS SHORT

KATE MEADER

CHAPTER ONE

MIA WALLACE WATCHED the skater weave between the two defensemen—defensewomen, actually—and make a mockery of the tender’s efforts to block the puck. Damn, she loved her job.

She nudged her sister-in-law. “I think we’ve found the jewel in our first line.”

Isobel grinned. “She’s almost as fast as you.”

Mia tried not to preen at the comparison. For the last three months she and Isobel had been scouting for talent to add to the roster of their new team, the Chicago Athenas, one of the new franchises expected to inaugurate the Women’s Hockey League expansion in the fall. It was weird stepping into this management role, especially as she also expected to play, but after the drama of the last couple of years—when she couldn’t play at all—she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Isobel checked a list on her iPad. “That’s the last one. I said we’d head over to Harper’s office and discuss player contracts.”

“Actually, I need to see Foreman.”

Her sister-in-law smirked. “Still in the honeymoon phase, huh?”

Yes, they were. But the news she had for him today might change all that.

“We’ve been married for less than a month. I’d say that qualifies.”

“You okay? You seem a little out of sorts.”

That was one way to describe it.

“I’m fine! I’ll check in with you later.”

Isobel smiled. “Okay. Say hi to that hot Russian for me.”

“Sure thing.”

Mia made the short walk over to the Rebels practice center to meet her husband.

She still couldn’t believe she got to say that about Cal Foreman. They’d had a rocky start, not helped by his status as one of her brother’s closest friends or the fact she had someone else in her crosshairs. The course of true love certainly didn’t run smoothly when Cal used Mia to break up with his then-girlfriend nor when Mia got her revenge by calling him out online.

Good times.

But they made it through and something magical happened as they did.

They fell head-over-skates in love.

Cal had supported her through her career crisis, so she was back on track to play professional hockey. But now those well-laid plans were about to get a jolt of cold, hard reality.

He stood outside the practice facility gym, chatting animatedly to her brother, and she took a moment to appreciate his solid build, great shoulders, and that strong neck curve she wanted to lick. But all those attributes paled to what was going on inside his head and heart. The man was kindness personified, a complete softie, and the guy of her dreams.

She was so lucky to have him in her life.

As if sensing her presence, he turned, his lovely, lived-in face splitting into a crooked grin. Drawn to his innate warmth, she moved in and threw her arms around him.

“Hey, hot stuff.”

Her brother groaned.

“Want to check out the equipment room?” she continued, drawing a cough of disgust from Vadim.

“Sestra, must you?”

She kissed Cal, savoring his amazing mouth, even though it risked pissing off her brother in a major way. The risks she took for love. After a few blistering seconds, Cal drew back, his color high, his grin wide.

“Hey, gorgeous girl, was that for me or are you just trying to freak out his lordship here?”

“Maybe a bit of both.” She turned to Vadim. “Hey there, light of my life, all-knowing sage, and the best brother a girl could have.”

Vadim looked slightly mollified. “We are going to lunch. You may join us.”

“Actually, I need a word with Cal. Can he catch up with you?”

“I suppose.” Vad kissed Mia’s forehead, then in an unexpected burst of affection—or humor—applied a kiss to the top of Cal’s head. “Until later.”

Smiling after his friend, Cal turned and drew her closer. “Did you really want to check out the equipment room? Because I’m pretty sure it’s empty right now.”

“I need a word in private, so maybe it’s not a bad idea.” Taking his hand, she led him inside and closed the door.

Cal’s brow creased in concern. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

Yes, it is, she assured herself, though only time would tell.

“I have some news.” She dragged in a deep, deep breath. “I’m pregnant.”

PREGNANT.

They’d been married for a month and it’d been the best few weeks of Cal Foreman’s life. Having this woman on his side, in his bed, and wrapped around his heart had changed how he saw everything. Food tasted better, the sky shone bluer, his dick felt bigger.

Okay, not completely true on that last one. But it certainly knew how it felt about Mia Wallace-Foreman. And now it seemed it was responsible for getting her into trouble.

Except it wasn’t trouble, in the traditional sense of the word. They were in a stable relationship, rings on their fingers, their whole lives together ahead of them. At the grand old age of thirty-two, Cal wasn’t getting any younger.

He wanted kids.

He wanted kids with Mia.

“How do you feel?”

“Physically, fine. However I’m eight days late and I took a home test. It might be a false alarm but I don’t think so. My body feels different.”

“And how do you feel up here?” He touched a fingertip to her head.

“Scared. Annoyed. Uncertain. I’m not sure this is a good time. In fact, I’d say this is a terrible time.”

Mia’s entire career as a professional hockey player had been put on hold because of a beef she had with the former head of the National Women’s Hockey League. That clusterfuck kept her away from the sport she loved and delayed her pro debut. But now everything was going gangbusters. Not only would she be co-managing the Chicago Athenas, she’d be on their roster, come the fall.

Or maybe not.

“I don’t even know how this happened,” she said, getting that cute crimp between her eyes when she was anxious. “I’m on birth control but I guess once we stopped using condoms, that opened up the floodgates.”

“My boys are shockingly powerful.”

Her smile was edged with worry. “Now you tell me.”

“Okay, so what are you thinking? Be honest.”

“If I have a baby right now, I don’t think I’ll be able to play professional hockey. That’s pretty much what it boils down to.”

Cal inhaled a ragged breath. That seemed hyperbolic, but he wanted to be careful about how he treaded here.

“It would delay things, for sure, but it doesn’t mean the end of your career.”

She took a long hard look at him. “How would you feel about being forced to take a year or more off work? Away from a job you loved? Before you had a chance to get any momentum?”

He wouldn’t like it, but conveniently that wasn’t the choice under discussion. Sure, that was male privilege talking but it was also reality.

“I just don’t want us to decide too quickly. We have time, right?”

“You really want me to go through with this?”

“I want you to think about it instead of knee-jerking and dismissing it out of hand.”

Her expression darkened. The room went cold. His balls might have shriveled.

Wrong thing to say, fuckhead.

“I’m not dismissing it. I’m thinking about how my life will change, and not necessarily for the better.” He saw the moment she tuned out. “Listen, you’re late for lunch with my brother.”

“Mia—”

“It’s okay, Cal. Just go do that and we’ll talk later.”

Lunch could take a running jump, but it might be good to get a little space. Neither of them was ready for this conversation, not when they were coming at it from opposite ends and likely to pass each other right by in the middle.

With verbal weapons drawn.

Cal watched her leave, a furious wind in her wake. Maybe he hadn’t handled that right, but he had an opinion here and a right to express it.

Didn’t he?

CHAPTER TWO

MIA SHOULD HAVE EXPECTED THIS.

They had talked about children in an abstract kind of way. The bottom line: when the time was right, kids would be awesome.

At no time had they talked about when the time wasn’t right.

No one ever talked about that.

All couples liked to think that their problems would be handled in a mature manner. Talking, listening to your partner’s point of view, a considered assessment of the pros and cons around any decision. Of course when hormones and babies and life-changing events were involved, maturity was usually the first thing to leave the building.

She waved at Tara, who had just walked into the coffee shop and was bounding over, looking her usual fresh and cheerful.

“Hey, babe, you got me my drink? You are a star!” She sat, arranged her purse on the other chair, and took a sip of her half-oat, half-skim caramel macchiato.

Closing her eyes, she exhaled. “I really shouldn’t be drinking this. It’s my second one today but the first one was decaf.” A small tap to her stomach was the shorthand for her reasoning.

Tara was about ten weeks pregnant. No one but Mia, Cal, and Tara’s fiancé Hale Fitzpatrick, the Rebels GM, knew. The prospective parents were over the moon, and Mia was reluctant to rain on their parade with her own problems.

But she really needed to talk, and Tara was her closest friend.

“So I have news.”

“Oh, yeah?” Tara frowned. “Mia, honey, what’s wrong? You look like Cal just dumped you. Which I know can’t be true, so what could possibly have you this upset?”

Deep breath. “I’m pregnant. And I don’t think I want it. And I think Cal does. And I’ve no idea what I’m going to do!”

Tara’s gorgeous green eyes went wide. “Pregnant!”

“Shush. I’d rather the whole world didn’t know.”

“Sorry,” she whispered, still fairly loudly but then this was Tara who typically shrieked to eleven on the volume scale. “Have you talked to Cal?”

She nodded. “He wants us to think about it. I mean, he’s not getting any younger, y’know.”

“Yeah, but the Foreman sperm isn’t going to suddenly lose its mojo. If anything, this proves you’re both capable of producing the goods. Sure, not the optimal way to find out, but still good information to file away. I’m guessing this is not the best time for you to be popping out a sprog.”

Mia swiped at a tear. “I shouldn’t be so emotional about this, but I want to play hockey professionally. I’ve wanted this for as long as I can remember. And when I thought I’d lost the chance, I was so depressed. The last six months have renewed my faith in the future.”

“And getting that chance again while finding the love of your life in Cal seems like the world is set to rights again.”

Mia nodded. “And now this? It’s like the universe is telling me I can’t have what I want.”

“No, it’s not.” Tara grasped Mia’s hand. “The universe is telling you that this is just one of many decisions you have to make in your life and that you still have free will. It’s your body, your choice.”

While Mia understood that in theory, the practice of it eluded her. It sounded like one of many catchy slogans that had no bearing on reality.

“And what about Cal? Doesn’t he get a say in this?”

Tara looked about as serious as Mia had ever seen her. “He gets to tell you about his feelings. He gets to talk about what he’d like to see happen. And you can listen and consider if what he says and wants and feels matches or outweighs what you say and want and feel. But the bottom line is this: you will be carrying this baby for nine months. You might be breastfeeding for a year or more. You’re a mother to this kid for the next eighteen years and if they don’t piss you off completely—or just as likely if they do—for many years after that. And as much as I’d love for us to raise our kids together, this isn’t about me. It’s not about Cal. It’s about you and whether you want this baby to be the center of your life for the foreseeable future.”

Mia could feel her eyes welling with love for her friend.

Or hormones.

Or both.

“I don’t want to diminish Cal’s feelings in this. And I don’t want him thinking I’m just paying lip service to what he’s saying because my mind is already made up.”

Tara smiled. “The male ego is a tricky beast, but Cal’s a great guy. He can handle what you have to say. You just have to tell him how you feel.”

Meanwhile back at Rebels HQ …

“YOU ARE PLAYING with your food, Callum.”

Cal looked up from his cobb salad at the man he’d known for over a decade. When he was traded to the Chicago Rebels last year, Vadim—his new captain and old friend—had asked him to help train his sister, Mia, for her Olympics tryout.

It turned out she wanted a different kind of training: lessons in how to seduce someone else.

Cal had gladly given it because getting closer to her was his prime objective. Mia was his prime objective. And now he might have screwed it all up.

“Guess I’m not hungry.” He placed his fork down.

Vadim leaned back and folded his inked arms, having already plowed through a salmon steak, a field’s worth of steamed asparagus, and a tiny salad. (The guy was not a fan of uncooked greens.)

“Did you have a fight with my sister?”

“Not so much a fight as … a disagreement.” He paused, not sure how much he should reveal. “Could I ask something personal?”

Vadim sipped his water. “You may.”

“Is there a reason why you and Isobel haven’t had kids? Is there something … wrong?” Vad and Isobel had been married for over five years.

“No, there is nothing wrong. We both like children but we prefer not to have our own. The choice has not been forced on us, if that’s what you’re thinking.” He smiled, almost secretively. “You are the first person to ask us in all the time I have been with my Bella. Even my mother maintains a delicate distance about it. And I thought family were supposed to be nosey!”

“You wish people pried more?”

Vad shrugged. “I would hate it if people kept asking, especially if there were health reasons. But as it is, we have chosen this way. There are plenty of nieces and nephews, and this way, I get to keep my Bella all to myself.”

The Russian was notoriously possessive, so it sounded like a couple-only deal suited him.

He raised an eyebrow at Cal. “Why the sudden interest? Are you thinking about starting a family? Because Mia is very young and she has a career to rehabilitate. You should not be in a hurry to get her with child—”

Cal held up a hand. “I’m not, but sometimes circumstances conspire to change your plans.”

Vadim’s blue eyes turned flinty. “You mean she is already …?”

“And not loving the idea.”

While Cal was getting more and more excited about it. A child.

His child.

“You like children, I think, friend.”

Cal nodded, his heart torn between his love and his desires.

“You see the other players and their families and wonder, why not you?”

It had crossed his mind.

“Mia has my marrow inside her. We are connected by more than blood.” Vadim had saved Mia’s life with a bone marrow transplant when she was sixteen. It was the first time they’d met and it forged a bond that grew stronger with each passing day. “When she has a child, it will be as much mine as yours. Because of this connection.”

Kind of tricky logic there, but Vadim was a man who felt strongly about bloodlines and the like. Cal was curious to see where his friend was going with this.

“Let’s assume that’s true.”

Vadim scowled. “It is. This child will be raised as a Petrov, with some Foreman genes mixed in—you are the father, after all—and will be a great hockey player. They will be adored and fussed over by their uncles and aunts. They will want for nothing. You, my friend, will be a wonderful father. I have no doubt, especially as I will be guiding you through this process.”

Cal rolled in his lips to hide his smile.

“But I think you know that it should not happen until Mia is ready. She must carry the burden more than us. No matter when this happens, she will be a wonderful mother, but you should not pressure her to give up her professional dreams so soon.”

“Women return to sports after giving birth all the time. Look at Serena Williams, Allyson Felix.” So, it was a Hail Mary pass. He already knew how Vadim would respond.

“Yes, but these women were established in their careers. They had a solid base to return to, had achieved success in the first place. Mia hasn’t had a chance to blossom yet.” He waved a hand. “This is a personal decision for the two of you, but don’t pretend it has an equal impact. This will affect my sister more than you.”

CHAPTER THREE

THE DOOR to Cal’s apartment opened—his and Mia’s apartment. He still hadn’t got used to calling it that.

He hadn’t got used to a lot of things.

Being part of a team of two.

Considering his wife’s feelings in everything.

His beautiful, precious wife.

Who had been through the ringer over the last couple of years, her career stalled, her life upended. He was supposed to make it better, support her all the way, not put obstacles in her path.

Gordie Howe, Mia’s exuberant little Pom, jumped off the sofa and ran to her. She hunkered down to hug him and to give herself a moment of respite, no doubt.

Finally, she looked up.

“Hey.” Her eyes searched his for clues about how this conversation would go.

He stood and moved in, arms out wide. “C’mere, gorgeous girl.”

To his relief, she came to him with no hesitation and once in his embrace, he felt the peace that always flowed over him when with this woman.

“How’ve you been?” he whispered after a couple of moments.

“Better now I’m with you. I’m sorry I snapped before.”

He drew back. “Do not apologize. I wasn’t listening to you and that’s on me. Did you tell Tara what a jerk I was?” It was strange that Mia was best friends with one of his exes, but he and Tara were also pals, so there was that.

“Oh, it wasn’t news to her!” Her mood turned serious. “It was a bit weird running it by her because she’s pregnant. I was worried she’d freak out.”

“But she didn’t. Tara’s a very practical woman. Not much can faze her.”

Mia nodded. “Can we talk?”

“Always.” He led her to the sofa and sat her down. Gordie Howe jumped up and took his place at her side.

“You and I talked about kids,” she started, “in the abstract.”

“That’s usually how it is until conception actually occurs.”

“And now that it has, I want to hear what you’re thinking.”

“Even if it means you’ll take what I say and overlay it with your own wants and desires here?”

He didn’t mean to sound sour, but when it came to a woman’s right to choose, the democracy of marriage was somewhat of an illusion.

“Even if it means that. I still want to hear it because it’s important that we communicate even when we don’t agree. Especially when we don’t agree.”

She was right. But then she usually was.

“To be honest, I never expected to get married because my parents put me off the whole thing. But now that I have, now that I’ve found the perfect woman who gets me and is willing to put up with my BS, I want the whole shebang. The house, the cookouts, the sleepy Sundays, the kids. And I think you want that, too.”

He paused to let her weigh in, if she wanted to.

Her eyes filled with tears.

“Baby, I’m not saying any of this to criticize your decision here. I just want you to know where I’m coming from.”

“Okay,” she croaked. “And you’re right, I do want all those things.”

“So, we’re on the same page there. Look at us: communication specialists!” He grinned and got a watery smile in return. “And I can’t deny that I’ve been thinking about my age—almost thirty three, can’t wait to see what you’ve got me for my birthday next week—and that makes me think about the future. How many good years I have left on the ice, what I’ll fill my time with afterward. I expect I’ll pull a DuPre and be a stay-at-home dad, but whether that happens when I’m thirty-five or forty-five doesn’t matter. Because you have plenty of time and a whole career in front of you, one you’ve been dreaming about since you were a kid. Someone tried to take that dream away from you, but they failed, and I won’t be the asshole standing in your way.”

“Oh, Cal,” she whispered.

He kissed her temple. “So, here’s what’s going to happen. We’re going to go to the doctor and verify that you are pregnant. Then we’re going to talk to the doc about options for termination. You’re going to return to your life, this amazing life we’re building together, and live your dreams. And I will be with you every glide of the blade.” He curled a hand around her neck and brought her close. “I’m sorry my initial reaction wasn’t one of support. All I could think of was what it meant for me, the opportunity I was missing. But this is your body, your choice, your decision. I want kids with you, there’s no doubt about that, but we can wait. My boys are obviously rip-roaring motherfuckers and your ovaries are tip-top.”

She swiped at a falling tear and Cal kissed her damp eyelids.

“Thank you for listening to me. It’s always been the thing I love best about you—about us. I didn’t think I’d ever get so lucky. I love you, Foreman. So much.”

And he loved her. Crucial to that love was respect for his wife’s wants and needs. Mia had a dream, and Cal’s own dream to be a father would come second to that for now, even if it broke his heart a little.

It would be easily mended with this woman at his side, and when the time was right, they would expand their family from two to three … or four or five.

Her brows drew together. “What’s that smile for?”

“Just thinking about the future and how perfect it is because you’re with me.”

“You’re imagining a big house filled with at least three kids, aren’t you?”

“Guess again.”

Her lovely eyes flew wide. “More than three?”

“One day, gorgeous girl. I want to home-grow my own hockey team.”

She sighed, relaxing in his arms. “You’re a complete softie and you’re going to rock it as a dad.”

It would be worth the wait. And until then, he’d enjoy the practice. “Any chance this pregnancy business has made you hornier than usual?”

With her typical athlete’s quickness, she repositioned herself straddling his lap and gazed at him with fire-bright eyes and a wicked smile. “Foreman, I thought you’d never ask.”

Want to know how Cal and Mia went from enemies to friends to more?

Find out in FOREPLAYER.

About the Author

Originally from Ireland, USA Today bestselling author Kate Meader cut her romance reader teeth on Maeve Binchy and Jilly Cooper novels, with some Harlequins thrown in for variety. Give her tales about brooding mill owners, oversexed equestrians, and men who can rock an apron, a fire hose, or a hockey stick, and she’s there. Now based in Chicago, she writes sexy contemporary featuring strong heroes and amazing women and men who can match their guys quip for quip.

Visit her website or follow her on social media:

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MY ANGEL GIRL

KATHY COOPMANS

I EASE my Harley to a stop behind my wife’s black Lexus and plant my booted feet on the ground. Cutting the engine, I pocket the keys, yank off my helmet, hook it on the handlebars, and swing off.

Fishing out my phone, I text my two good friends, Jude and Tyson, to make sure they’ve safely made it home. It’s routine when the three of us are out on assignment together. It seems the older we get, the rarer it becomes for all of us to be gone at the same time. It doesn’t bother any of us as it guarantees at least one will be home to keep an eye on each other’s families.

We’ve been friends since our military days. I wouldn’t have gotten through the war on the ground without them, especially when I had an emotional one raging like a violent storm inside me.

Mind dangling on the edge of bat shit crazy. My heart busted into a million unrepairable pieces. Back then, every enemy was the face of the man who took her from me. Every bullet I released from my chamber went straight through their black soul. Killed more pieces of shit people that way.

I was a man on a mission to set my tortured soul free.

It didn’t work, but at least I did my country proudly.

Stretching and taking a deep breath, I inhale the salty air. My ears tuned in to the sound of the crashing waves in the distance.

Fucking love this place I call home. Living the life Cora and I dreamed of when we were teenagers. The pretty, shy girl I fell in love with at first sight.

The good girl that grew into a little vixen.

All that tempting body and beautiful mind belong to me.

A few years after Cora and I married, we bulldozed both of our houses down and built another right in the middle of our plots. It gave us more room for a yard and a circular driveway, practically unheard of when the beach is your backyard.

My angel girl, Erika, our thirteen-year-old daughter, and our twenty-five-year-old son, Ethan, are my slice of heaven after living in hell. For years both Cora and I were sent to those flaming gates by her piece of shit brother. Bastard is now six feet under. The prick kept us apart for over a decade. Spewing vicious and vile lies.

Betrayal in the ripest form.

Shouldn’t have believed his bullshit when he told me someone kidnapped Cora, then killed her. Bastard told her I was dead too. He said he killed me because we were dating behind his back.

All bullshit over a spat between our parents.

Shoving those thoughts back underground where they belong, I let my gaze wander to the sky. Reds, oranges, and purples leave streaks of beauty as the sun begins its descent. Some of the pent-up aggression while in San Diego tracking down a drug-dealing punk fades now that I’m home after three weeks.

I was fucking worried we wouldn’t catch the little piss ant for me to get my ass home in time to see Cora on our fifteenth wedding anniversary.

For nearly twenty years, I’ve been an undercover narcotics officer, and I love my job. It’s rewarding as fuck to ruin a big party where the guest of honor is whatever drug of choice the slime balls make their profit from.

What I hate is being away from my family. As a cop, I know the kind of predators out at night just looking for prey, and my daughter and wife are the perfect targets. Especially now that Ethan moved out a few years ago after graduating from the academy.

My boy, whom I didn’t know existed until he was almost twelve decided to follow in my footsteps. He’s now working for LAPD. And our daughter is the spitting image of Cora. The girl just hit her teens and has the mind of a twenty-year-old.

Boy crazy and tripping over a new one every week.

Ain’t a one of them good enough. That’s all I’ve heard her carry on about when I call to check-in. I’m confident I’ll get an earful when I pick her up from her best friend Jenna’s tomorrow. The two are attached at the hip.

And my wife might be in her forties, but she doesn’t look a day over thirty. The woman is all sinful temptation—heavy on the tits and ass. Long legs I desperately need to get lost in between.

My cock is already twitching just thinking about her pussy gripping hold.

My feet pound the pavement toward the back of the house that faces the ocean. Reaching the door, I unlock it, snap it shut behind me, twist the deadbolt, and kick off my boots.

Striding across the hardwood floor, I unsnap my handcuffs, pull out my gun, lock it in the cabinet, and make my way up the stairs to our bedroom.

Unbuckling my belt, I pull it free from its loops, grabbing Cora’s attention when I drop it to the floor with a heavy thud. Thick mounds of blonde hair frame that gorgeous face as she whips around. Those emerald green eyes go wide with lust, with eagerness, with the challenge for me to do what she wanted for our fifteenth anniversary as they flit between the cuffs in my hands and the bulge growing behind my jeans.

She wants to be cuffed to the bed.

At my mercy.

She has no idea the things I’m going to do once I have her shackled. Might just take her pussy, her mouth, and her ass.

Know for sure that I’ll bring her to the brink over and over.

Drive her out of her pretty little mind.

A moan escapes those lush lips I want to be wrapped around my cock when I toss the cuffs on the bed.

“Love that sound, angel. Now get over here and give me that mouth.”

I love the noises she makes about as much as I do over the light kink we’ve come into over the years. A mixture in the bedroom my mind and body are always eager to jump on board with. Although, it wouldn’t matter if we were straight-up vanilla. As long as I’m buried deep in Cora’s sweet little body.

A growl rumbles in my chest when she lifts her brows in defiance and grips the hem of her shirt to fling it over her head, letting it rest for a second on the edge of her finger before dropping it to the floor. The swell of her breasts burst out of the black lace bra.

Those pretty pink budding nipples are hard as rocks.

Begging for my mouth.

“You testing me, baby? You know what your disobedience will get you, Cora.”

It gets her a very satisfied pussy.

“Oh, don’t be such a control freak all the time, honey.” Her eyebrows shoot up in amusement.

Control freak, my ass. She has it all. Any man who says his woman doesn’t is a liar.

Continuing to ignore me, she unties the bottoms of her nursing scrubs and shimmies out of them, smirking as she stands there in a pair of crotchless underwear, a garter belt, holding up black thigh-high stockings.

Fucking Christ.

She just doubled her torture.

And mine.

“What do you think, officer?” she asks, voice a hoarse rasp of seduction. “It seems I’ve been a naughty girl.” She smirks, purposely turning around and giving me a view of her tight little ass and bare pussy when she bends at the waist and runs her hands up the back of her legs.

I can smell her arousal now.

Sweet.

Intoxicating.

Mine.

“Jesus, Cora.” My breathing comes hard and fast when my eyes latch on the wetness shining on the insides of her thighs.

Going to work on the button and zipper on my jeans, I shuck out of them, and my boxers, my socks come next, and I peel my t-shirt over my head. My hand goes to my shaft, and I stroke.

“You want this, then get over here and give me that mouth. Not going to ask again.”

Cora straightens, licks her plump lips, and makes it to me in seconds flat, and I bury my fists in her hair, crushing her mouth with my own.

I kiss her like I’m going to fuck her.

Hard and long and deep.

Invading that mouth.

“I missed you so much,.” she says, sliding her tongue into my mouth and dueling for dominance she knows she can’t win as she wraps her arms around my neck, and I grip two handfuls of her ass, hiking her up my body. Those long legs twining around my waist. She tightens her hold on me, pressing her body against mine as I groan into her mouth.

Dragging my mouth away, I toss her onto the bed. Grip her by the knees and spread her legs. Wasting no time exploring between her legs.

“Riddick, please,” she begs. Eager for my cock.

I lift a brow, smirk, and sink a finger inside, finding that spot that will make her go boom.

“You’ll get what you want when I’m ready to give it to you.”

She huffs in frustration and snaps her hands into my hair.

Tugging.

Hard.

For a moment, I consider giving her what she wants. I don’t because I want to taunt, tease and make her come as many times as I can until I slide into her slick wet heat. Until she’s begging and threatening to cut my balls off if I don’t.

She cries out when I unclasp the front of her bra, her tits spilling out, and my mouth drops to a breast, my tongue swirling the nipple. Teasing and nipping until she’s writhing

Sliding my middle finger inside her, I pump my hand while taking the other nipple into my mouth. Sucking and biting in punishment for that little display she put on a few minutes ago.

When my thumb brushes her clit, she yanks my head up and gives me more of that sweet-tasting mouth. “Just remember paybacks are hell.” She breathes into my mouth and bites my bottom lip.

“Looking forward to it, Cora,” I mutter, continuing to finger fuck her until she falls apart.

Pulling out, I shove my fingers in my mouth, her taste exploding on my tongue. I take my time licking them clean, ignoring the slew of cursing coming out of Cora’s mouth.

“If you don’t stop messing around, I’ll roll over and sleep. I mean it, Riddick.” Sure she does. My wife is as hungry for me as I am for her.

She tries closing her legs, but I splay them wider.

“That so? Keep on with that sass, and I’ll blister your ass red right now.” She glances at my cock, and before she can sputter out more, I wedge my shoulders between her legs to take a long slow lick from the puckered hole of her ass to her throbbing clit.

I grind my tongue into her. My greedy hands slide under her ass, and I get onto my hunches, lift her hips, and feast on her pussy.

Starving for her taste. Lungs desperate to fill with her scent.

Her hips roll in my grip, bucking as I drag my tongue to her clit, sucking in the swollen bud so hard that a loud scream tears through her entire body. I relish in the sound as I usually have to muffle Cora’s screams with my hand or shove her head into a pillow when I take her from behind.

She’s always been a screamer when she comes.

“Give me one more baby, and I’ll shove my cock so deep into you, you’ll feel me in your throat.” She locks her knees at the side of my head in a vice as I continue to lick and lap and tongue fuck her until she gives me what I want. My face burrowing in further to eat her up.

Wiping my face on my arm, my dick is so painfully hard, balls so full that I have to grit my teeth, grinding them until my jaw aches to not blow my load all over her stomach.

That would indeed have her in a rage.

Climbing up her body, I thrust inside her.

Slamming home, my mouth closes over a tight nipple, and a hand wraps around her throat, gently squeezing.

My angel gives it all to me. Meeting me thrust for thrust and hooking her legs around my waist, I pound into her like I haven’t been inside her in a year.

My hips jut and jerk. She orgasms one more time, and I follow.

I take her twice more before we fall asleep and when I wake, my angel with a streak of black along the span of her wings has me cuffed to our bed. The shower is running, and I hear her laughing.

Yanking hard, I break the chains apart, bust the headboard, grab the key to the cuffs out of my pocket, and unlock them from my wrist.

My dirty little angel is about to see just how much hell paybacks are when I push her to her knees and shove my cock down her throat.

Want to know Riddick and Cora’s story? Check it out here.

About the Author

Kathy Coopmans is a USA Today and multi- Amazon Top 100 Bestselling Author. She lives in Michigan with her husband, Tony. They have two grown sons Aaron and Shane and her first grandchild, Oliver was born earlier this year. She is a sports nut. Her favorites include NASCAR, Tennis, and Football.

Eight years ago, she quit her full-time job as a hairstylist to fulfill her dream in writing. While growing up next door to a public library, she’d dream in the corner of writing her own book while reading story after story. She claims she can do several things at once and still stay on task.

Her favorite quote is, “I got this.”

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FRIENDBONED

KB CINDER

CHAPTER ONE

GABRIEL

“HAVE YOU SEEN HER?”

The four words linger in the air like pepper spray.

It’s a simple question, but I’d rather describe last night’s masturbation session—complete with sound effects, fantasies, and hand gestures—than broach the subject.

Hugh knows it, too, which is precisely why he’s asking.

Believe it or not, the son of a bitch is paid over a hundred bucks an hour to inflict this torture monthly, and I keep coming back for more.

Masochistic tendencies, if you ask me. A likely byproduct of growing up Catholic.

I nod once.

Hugh’s pen meets his frayed notepad. “And?”

“I went on with my day.”

What was I supposed to do? Ask for an autograph?

I’d grabbed the first package of cheese I could find and finished grocery shopping. Unfortunately, the cheese was Limburger, and Sunday dinner’s charcuterie spread smelled worse than Godzilla’s gooch, but I survived.

That wasn’t the first, nor would it be the last, time I’d run into my ex-wife. Bay Breeze doesn’t offer such luxury, even when tourists flood the barrier island for the summer. Locals can’t help but share Farrah’s latest happenings, no matter how long it’s been since our marriage imploded.

The battle-tested therapist looks up from his notes. “How did you feel? Angry? Sad?”

“Fine.”

I hold no ill will toward my ex-wife. No anger. No hurt. No jealousy. It’s the same indifference as passing a stranger.

In a way, Farrah is a stranger. She can’t be the same person I divorced over a decade ago. God knows I’m not the man she married. I bet she has all sorts of fun, new hobbies that don’t involve putting my friends’ dicks in her mouth. Maybe CrossFit or baking baklava. Either way, good for her. I hope she’s living her best life.

“That’s great to hear.”

Hugh brushes at the copper fur mottled on his slacks, courtesy of his tabby, Persimmon. There’s an online review of his practice complaining about the omnipresent cat hair, but the fuzz is a selling point in my eyes. I wanted a therapist with quirks. I found it in Hugh, a thrice-divorced British import with an affinity for shoes, golf, and attending protests with his daughter, Phoebe Jane. I can tell him anything without fear of judgment. He’s been there, done that personified with a splash of Goldblum zing for the road, as seen in today’s purple glasses and matching loafers.

“And how’s the family?” he asks. “It’s nice to see you made it through your cousin’s wedding in one piece.”

Annoyance runs through my veins, the first bit of emotion I’ve felt since arriving at his office forty-five minutes ago. “The family’s good and the wedding went fine. The marriage… not so much.”

“Oh?”

Here we go.

I’m surprised he hasn’t heard the gritty details already. Everyone on the island is talking about the scandal of the summer. The situation could be a soap opera storyline, complete with a busty cam model, a secret marriage, and a pregnancy. All that’s missing is amnesia.

“Annulled.”

He winces. “I’m sorry to hear.”

“It’s for the best.”

“Did that stir up any old feelings?”

“Betrayal,” I admit. “I hate that someone violated her trust. The family’s trust, too.”

Knowing Matthew Claxton’s past, my brothers and I took him golfing before the wedding to gauge his intentions, and in the end, he’d played us. One of the town’s most eligible bachelors wasn’t a bachelor. Instead, he’d committed bigamy with my cousin as an unwitting participant. With any luck, he’ll serve jail time and shit with an audience for a few months, but more than likely, his family’s money will buy him a ticket to freedom.

It’s amazing what sins can be absolved by donating to the right charity.

“That’s understandable. But you’re okay?”

“Yup.”

“And your mother? Is she still encouraging you to settle down?”

I snort. “More like demanding.”

According to Mom, sperm quality fades around forty. That’s still a few years away, but she brings it up often, fearing I’ll “forget.” As if that’s possible.

“How does that make you feel?”

“Like I’m sprinting from lava with a broken ankle while doing math equations.”

Hugh laughs and scribbles on his notepad. “So, it’s safe to say that meeting a new partner doesn’t interest you?”

“Not a chance.”

“Nothing wrong with being single if that’s what makes you happy.”

I shrug. “You make it look good.”

“Thank you.” He chuckles. “My ex-wives would all agree I’m a better friend than a husband. Which reminds me: How are things with Mallory?”

My best friend, Mallory Murphy, is a frequent topic of our monthly sessions. I swear Hugh’s half bloodhound and half Gossip Girl.

“Good.”

“She’s engaged, correct?”

Another flare of annoyance announces itself in my gut.

“No, that didn’t pan out.”

Nor did the lawyer before him or the doctor before that one.

“So, she’s single?”

“Nope. Dating someone new.”

The bitterness in my voice is obvious even to my ears, but I don’t give a damn. I am bitter. Each new boyfriend only gets worse.

“Have you considered discussing your feelings with her?”

“No.”

Hugh lets out a loud groan. “Pardon my French, but why the hell not?”

“I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

It’s an age-old problem, but I’d chew glass before jeopardizing my bond with Mal. Besides, it’s not like she’s single long enough for me to hint at any interest, either.

“But you love her.”

The L-word still lands like an uppercut. It always does.

I do love her. More than anything.

Hell, Mal’s why I started therapy in the first place. She deserves someone capable of loving her without fear. Someone mature enough to own up to their mistakes and fix them. I’ve done my damnedest to be that man with Hugh’s guidance, but it’s been a long, winding road, and I’ve missed my chance, time and time again.

“She’s with someone else. I can’t disrespect that and risk losing her.”

“But—”

I check my watch. “Got to run, Hugh. Catch you next month.”

***

“That is the ugliest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

I look up from my sketch and spot Dante in the corner of my workshop, scowling at a driftwood dining set due for pickup later. It’s beside the surfboard mirror he’s been eyefucking himself in since arriving twenty minutes ago.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. Mom still loves you.”

“Suck my ass, Gabe.”

My little brother holds a middle finger high, knowing damn well he’s the most blessed Esposito in the looks department, with the tall, dark, and handsome schtick down pat. It’s three-thirty on a Thursday afternoon, and he could be the star of a Men’s Health photoshoot in his fitted black tee and gray sweatpants. The outfit isn’t for a gym session but rather a carefully coordinated uniform to lure eyes when he heads into the Blowfish later. Once there, he’ll change into a button-down and jeans, apply copious layers of overpriced cologne, and make panties moist with a smile.

Dante’s somewhat of a local landmark, like a lighthouse but with a penis and questionable morals. Honestly, he should have an entry on TripAdvisor. It could prevent needlessly broken hearts.

I grin. “We can’t all be beautiful.”

Jokes aside, he has a point. The dining set is the strangest creation I’ve ever made, and some oddball pieces have left my shop over the years, including the mouth Adirondack chairs for Dr. Fetter’s dental practice and Nonnina’s colosseum bookshelf.

But the set isn’t ugly.

It’s…

Okay.

It’s fucking ugly.

However, it’s what the buyer wants, so I’m not complaining. If the New York tech tycoon wants his guests to dine on a table resembling something from a Mütter Museum exhibit, that’s his business. He paid in full. That’s all I care about.

“Speaking of beautiful,” Dante says, turning from the mirror with every strand of his inky hair in place. “Are you coming later? It’s singles night.”

“No.”

Attending a singles event at my family’s bar is more like a fuck no in my book. I can already hear Dante and Gia harassing me with kissing noises.

“Don’t be a lump. Grab a drink for once.”

With a shake of my head, I return to sketching the Beauty and the Beast armoire. “I have plans.”

“With who? Your palm and a bottle of Eucerin?”

“First of all, her name is Bath & Body Works Warm Vanilla Sugar, and no, that’s not in my plans.”

Last night’s session with my hand was enough to get me through the week. At least until a certain redhead turns my dick to stone again.

“Is it your therapist?”

“That was earlier today. You should see one. Might help with your douchebaggery.”

“I’m being serious, asshole. Pop in for a drink. It’ll be fun.”

“Did Mom slip you a twenty to coax me into going?”

He scoffs. “I’m not that cheap.”

“That’s not what I heard.”

“I heard Mallory will be there.”

“And?” I say, trying to play it cool.

It’s a challenge since the very-taken Mal shouldn’t be at a singles night. She’s dating Brock, a man as horrid as his chicken-sound name implies. I keep tabs on these things. Not willingly, obviously, but through Mal, who regularly shares her dating woes. Hearing them is as pleasant as gargling habanero salsa, but I hold my post, listening to every excruciating detail.

But if she’s going to be there tonight, Brock must be history.

Thank fucking God. That guy put the tool in tool bag.

“She could use a glowering bodyguard to battle the influx of crypto creeps, for one,” Dante replies, shrugging. “Two, you can finally fuck and get it over with.”

My first instinct is to deny, deny, deny, but that’s immediately canceled out by anger, as the last thing I want to do is just fuck Mal. Hearing him say as much pisses me the hell off.

Smartly, my little brother recognizes the shift in my mood and quickly tacks on, “You know what I meant. Fuck. Date. Get married. Open a bed-and-breakfast. Domestic shit.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He groans. “Stop already. Everyone knows you two are a Netflix binge away from bumping uglies.”

“Speak for yourself. Mine’s not ugly.”

“Stop deflecting.”

“Stop making up rumors.”

“Not rumors, bro. Facts. You can’t say with a straight face that you aren’t in love with Mallory Murphy.”

“I’m not in love with Mallory Murphy,” I parrot, setting down my pencil since my sketch is getting nowhere fast with the six-foot-smartass babbling away. “Now, what else do you need besides a handsaw and the last bit of my sanity?”

“For you to head up to the Blowfish tonight. I don’t want to be the one chasing guys away from your girl. I have work to do. Just make sure you dress like a lumberjack. Don’t ask. It’s the theme. Gia’s idea.”

Son of a bitch. Way to force my hand, Fate.

This might be my only chance to shoot my shot before Mal shacks up with another walking red flag. If she finds someone decent, I risk losing the opportunity entirely. I might lose her, period.

I blink away the horrible thought.

“A lumberjack? In July? People will melt.”

The light in Dante’s eyes says he knows I’ve taken the bait. He heads for the door, snickering. “Good thing air conditioning exists. See you there, brotato.”

CHAPTER TWO

MALLORY

“YOUR PHEROMONES ARE HEAVENLY.”

The honeyed voice obliterates “pheromones” as “fair-ah-moh-neez” less than an inch from my ear, bringing tonight’s people-watching adventures to a halt.

I turn, but before I can fire off a well-earned what the fuck to the hot-breathed ear invader, he straddles the open barstool beside mine. The man’s wearing tattered jeans and a starched polo, its collar popped high like Bay Breeze’s own Count Doucheula. If he threw on a puka shell necklace, he could pass for an early aughts time traveler, right down to the gelled shark fin he calls hair.

Leaning as far away as possible without tipping over, I create much-needed space between us. “Excuse me?”

He deserves an earful of expletives, but with a cover band wailing across the bar, there’s a chance I misheard him because, let’s face it, who in the hell says that?

Then again, singles nights at the Blowfish can be downright feral during the summer. He may be another rabid Casanova hungry for a round of jackhammering a hole and twiddling a woman’s labia, thinking it’s her clit. Unfortunately, while the wilds of singles night have lured me in the last few Thursdays, they also require a fair amount of fending off creeps.

“Your pheromones,” the stranger says, butchering the word a second time as his eyes anchor to my chest. Only a sliver of cleavage is visible above my sundress’s neckline, but you’d think my nipples were frolicking freely with the glint in his eyes. “I can smell them.”

What is he talking about? He smells something? I showered after work. I don’t stink.

Maybe he means fragrance?

“I’m wearing, uh, coconut body spray.”

The “body spray” is actually Coconut Craze Canine Cologne courtesy of my stage-five clinger of a dog, Fizzgig, but it doesn’t matter. This guy doesn’t care. They never do.

He slides a hand toward mine over the bar top, the fingers a troubling shade of pink. “Not your perfume, silly girl. Your pheromones. The chemicals that—”

“I know what a fucking pheromone is,” I snap, snatching my hand away. “I also know how to pronounce the word. Try Googling it.”

I won’t sit here and listen to some kid mansplain pheromones or call me a “silly girl.” The dudebro looks to be in his early twenties, tops. I’ve known the word’s definition longer than he’s been an ex-resident of someone’s womb lands.

His thin lips curve into a cocky smirk. “Biologically, we’re drawn to one another, baby.”

Barf. What podcast host is responsible for this atrocity?

“Well, vocally, I’m asking you to leave. Now.”

His attention rises to my face, though he doesn’t make eye contact, preferring to linger over my lips. “Your place or mine? I’m Brett, by the way. And you are?”

Of course, he’s a Brett. I swear they’re all shit stains on humanity.

“I’m not interested. Beat it, or security will haul you and your pheromones out of here.”

His smirk vanishes, and anger floods clear to the tips of his ears in a red tide. “Damn, bitch. No wonder you’re alone.”

With his fists balling at his sides, it’s obvious he wants to say more, but he storms off.

Good riddance.

Let’s hope any looming wooers caught sight of our exchange and buzz off.

This is my window of calm before the Friday rush, when my family’s venue, Blacktip Manor, roars to life for the weekend. I handle the marketing, though I always get roped into helping my sisters, whether it’s event planning with Dani, combing through spreadsheets with Leah, or battling vendors with Jo. It comes with the territory of being the sole single child of Roger and Bertie Murphy since only those with spouses and/or children are permitted social lives. At least it seems that way.

Coming here allows me to tune out and let go.

With the creep gone, the stool beside me is fair game, so I fold a napkin into a flower to mark the seat as taken, but it’s too late.

The metal stool scrapes along the floor, and a large figure fills the vacancy, carrying a cloud of a familiar wooded scent.

“Your pheromones are showing, M².”

That fucker.

I bet he watched the whole exchange with Brett.

“Way to save me,” I mutter, reaching for my Malibu Sunset with the night’s first genuine smile.

Gabriel coined my M² nickname our freshman year of high school. Back when he was the hunky six-foot-stunning baseball player, and I was the band dork with a million freckles and an oh-so-sexy flute.

I still have the freckles, but I lost the flute to an unfortunate color guard incident.

My best friend rumbles out a deep laugh. “You don’t need a knight in shining armor.”

He’s right, but it would’ve been hot to hear him tell a guy hands off.

After a swig of my cocktail, I look him over, taking in the clean top and jeans on his burly frame. There’s not a hint of sawdust on him for once, but his flannel top doesn’t mesh with the heatwave raging outside. His dark hair is too tame too. It’s usually mussed, driving his mother bananas.

“What are you doing here?”

Singles night is the last place I’d expect to see him. He hasn’t dated since his divorce, much to the disappointment of the lion’s share of our town’s female population. It’s a miracle no one has mauled him yet.

Gabriel is and has forever been the complete package. His business is one of the most beloved in town, and he’s nailed the perfect balance between grumbling giant and nice guy. It also doesn’t hurt that he’s easy on the eyes, with rugged good looks that have only improved in the second half of his thirties. He’s solid man and muscle, and as a furniture maker, he’s impossibly good with his hands.

Well, at least I imagine the latter is true.

As his long-time best friend, I’m a permanent resident of the friend zone.

In fact, he’d once declared that I’m like a little sister after we pecked during spin the bottle in tenth grade.

Talk about a kick to the clitoris.

That chaste locking of lips made my summer. No—my year. I’d finally kissed Gabriel, only to be on the receiving end of a devastating blow.

But tonight’s singles event could also be irrelevant. He might be checking in on his siblings. Two of them run the place now that his parents are semi-retired, and sometimes things get out of hand, requiring the other four Esposito kids to roll up their sleeves.

“More importantly, why are you here?” He leans back to check the stool to my left, currently occupied by a blonde. “Where’s Brock?”

The name sours my mood in a flash. “How should I know? We broke up.”

“When?”

“Memorial Day Weekend.”

His blue eyes search mine. “What happened?”

“Nothing. We weren’t right for each other.”

“If nothing happened, why haven’t you mentioned it for almost two months?” His stare pins me to my seat, and it may be my imagination, but his strong jaw looks tighter under its layer of end-of-day stubble.

“I didn’t realize it was need-to-know information.”

“You always tell me about the turds you date. Especially when you flush them.”

“I don’t date turds. What are we, seven?”

I date mama’s boys, thank you very much. And meatheads. And the occasional fuckboy.

“What do you call them? Dingleberries?”

I fire off my best knock-it-off glare. “Are you done?”

He holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Come on. Brock was definitely a turd. I hated him.”

“Gee, I never noticed,” I say, feigning surprise. “I’ve met peacocks more subtle.”

“You’ve met a peacock?” he teases. “But seriously, I don’t know what you saw in him. He was patronizing as fuck. Not to mention he smelled like a hoagie.”

“He did not.”

“You can at least admit to the hoagie stench. He made my eyes water.”

I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. “He drank apple cider vinegar twice a day. It’s an excellent fat burner.”

Honestly, I’m not sure if that last bit is true. Brock could’ve easily seen a Reddit comment with upvotes and ran with it.

Gabriel groans. “Great, he pickles himself. Now he’ll live to be two hundred and torture humanity with tales of epic deadlifts.”

“Who cares? He can marinate in llama milk if it makes him happy. I’m not dating him.”

“But why?”

Because he’s not you.

I wave him off. “Enough about Brock. Why are you here?”

All his skirting around the question has my stomach in knots. Gabriel’s always brutally direct and to the point, evading nothing. It’s one of his best attributes.

“To support the family.”

His flat tone doesn’t match his words, and the deep blue eyes I adore shift away, scanning the packed bar of locals and tourists alike.

He’s lying.

He’s here for tonight’s mingling.

I should be happy he’s ready to move on. I should order us shots, wish him good luck, and act as his wingwoman to find the perfect match.

But I can’t.

Why would he lie to me?

I study him as he takes in the room, noting his tense posture. The casual comfort that makes him feel like home in so many ways is gone. Now he’s on edge.

Awesome. So not only is he lying to my face, but he’s also uncomfortable around me.

Me, of all people.

Does he think I’ll judge him for being here? He should know better.

No. He wouldn’t get uptight about something so minor. He’d volley back with jokes and tell me to stuff my critiques up my tailpipe.

He hasn’t been this tense since declaring he and Farrah were getting married.

Could he know how I feel about him? Maybe he’s trying to soften the blow.

It’s not like I’m terribly skilled at hiding it.

My sisters still torment me over the crush. A crush that somehow survived and was the direct cause of my two failed engagements and an assortment of short-lived romances, including Brock. I haven’t sat around pining after my best friend. I’ve actively tried to move on, but in the end, I always pull the plug, knowing the person doesn’t compare to the man holding my heart. I won’t settle for less than how Gabriel makes me feel, which kind of sounds like an episode of Snapped now that I think about it.

Yikes.

I force a laugh, pulling on my big girl britches. “So, they’re finally auctioning you to the highest bidder? That’s why you’re all handsome for tonight. You want to fetch top dollar so they can renovate the bathrooms.”

Grinning, he nudges my shoulder. “Shucks, M². You think I’m handsome?”

I roll my eyes. “Stop fishing for compliments, Esposito.”

A small sigh leaves his lips. “Okay, the actual reason is sitting next to me, but you still haven’t told me why you’re here. Spill it, Mal.”

It’s my turn to check the stool on his other side, finding a beautiful brunette in a gingham crop top and shorts. She’s sipping a pink margarita and eyeing Gabriel with hunger in her eyes. Her long hair is styled to perfection in loose waves, and her makeup flawless, a far cry from my freckled complexion and damp tangle of red held high in a clip.

Ouch.

“Just people-watching,” I admit before downing the last of my cocktail and slipping my crossbody bag on. “But I’ll let you get back to her.”

The room goes blurry as I slide off my stool and weave through the throngs of patrons toward the rear exit. If I slip out the back, there’s less of a chance someone I know will snag me for small talk and risk a public tear fest.

Gabriel dating again was inevitable. I knew it was, and I’m happy for him. Truly. He has every right to move on. After Farrah, he deserves a happily ever after.

I just need one big ugly sob with Fizzgig, and I’ll be good as new.

Pushing through the rear door, I’m greeted by hot, briny air, offering little relief to the heat flooding my face. The deck space is barren, with the air temperature still leaning toward Armageddon at 9PM.

The solitude shatters my control over my emotions, and tears fall under the cover of darkness.

Halfway across the deck, the rear exit creaks open. It’s probably someone looking to grab a cigarette between drinks. I pick up the pace, eager to erase the four blocks between my bed and me.

“Are you okay?

Gabriel.

I wipe my cheeks before turning around. He’s coming across the boards toward me, his frame still rigid.

“I’m fine.”

“You practically ran away from me. What’s wrong?”

“I needed some air.”

“It’s hotter than hell out here.” Skepticism drips from his voice.

“So? It’s fresh air.”

He makes a show of sniffing the breeze like a dog. “Hm. Smells like salt and bullshit to me.”

“What?”

He folds his arms over his chest, still stalking over slowly. “You’re running.”

“Am not.”

“You always run.”

“No, I don’t.”

I can’t run for shit. He knows that. One of our gym teachers called me Molasses Murphy for being so slow.

“You can’t lie to me. What’s going on? First Brock, now….”

“Nothing!” I close my eyes before more tears can fall.

Fingers hook under my chin, lifting my face ever so lightly. His fingertips are rough, a testament to the years working with his hands. I’ve felt his touch a million times, but never this… intimately.

But my eyes remain closed.

This is nothing more than pitying comfort, and I don’t want it.

I want him to look at me with longing. With lust. With love. Not like a broken baby bird.

“Mal, look at me.”

“I need to go home.”

“No. You need to tell me what’s happening before I track Brock down and remove his broccolini.”

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. “That’s a felony.”

“You’re worth jail time.”

“I don’t know about that. You don’t look good in jumpsuits.”

“Liar. Have you seen my ass in one? It’s fucking juicy.”

And this is why I fell in love with this man.

Why I can’t not love him.

He wears the big, bad protector armor well, but inside, he’s nothing but a cinnamon roll of a goofball. Time hasn’t changed him one bit.

Smiling, I open my eyes, seeing him looming above. His fingers are still hooked under my chin, and his sole focus is on me. The broadness of his shoulders blocks the dim light of the bar’s exit, sealing me away in a protective cocoon.

When his gaze meets mine, his concern morphs into anger, hardening his features.

“Why are you crying?” he demands. “I’ll fucking kill—”

“Easy, tiger,” I say, brushing his fingers from my face, though I wouldn’t mind leaving them there forever. But I need to break away before I really lose it. “I had a long day at the Manor. I’m exhausted.”

“That doesn’t explain why you didn’t mention the breakup with Brock.”

Not this again.

“It wasn’t important enough to bring up.”

Brock and I weren’t serious. My life has barely changed since calling off our relationship. The only big adjustment came when I switched gyms to avoid crossing paths with him. I’m not a fan of awkward encounters.

“It’s important to me.”

“Why?”

He swears under his breath before looking up at the night sky. “Because you are important to me.”

Frustration boils over, both with this conversation and myself. It spills over the hurt, scalding any lingering sadness. I can’t take it anymore. “I know. I’m your best friend, your sister from another mister, your—”

“Everything.”

Wait. What?

He either said I’m his everything, or I’m hallucinating.

Please tell me I’m not hallucinating.

Because if I’m not, his head is lowering toward mine, and he’s about to kiss me.

CHAPTER THREE

GABRIEL

SO. Fucking. Sweet.

Pineapple dances across my lips as they brush over Mallory’s, the remnants of her cocktail lingering on the delicate skin.

I want to kiss it away and taste her. Not some goddamn fruit.

Every fiber of me wants more of her. Craves more.

I’ve waited years for this moment.

My heart thunders in my ears as my hands move to her waist, trembling as they settle on the soft curves. She regularly criticizes the same softness, no matter how often I tell her she’s perfect. That she doesn’t need to change a goddamn thing to appease anyone.

Lips unmoving, she’s frozen in my hold. It’s impossible to gauge if she’s on the brink of pushing me away or simply too stunned to react. Either way, it can’t be good.

Shit. I fucked up royally.

She hadn’t been on the verge of telling me she sees me as more than a friend. I’d misinterpreted the moment entirely, and in one stupid move, I ruined everything. We’ll never come back from this. I’ll forever be the man that macked on his best friend against her will.

My hands fall from her waist as I pry myself away, eyes barely cracking to face what I’ve done.

Please don’t hate me.

Before my eyes can find hers in the dim moonlight, she grips the front of my flannel and hauls me down, bringing our mouths together again. The suddenness throws me off-balance, and I stumble forward as she lets out the faintest of laughs against my mouth.

I want to pound on my chest and roar in triumph.

That’s the sweetest fucking sound I’ve ever heard.

Her laughter fades, and her lips part to move with mine, all traces of hesitancy gone. Our tongues meet in the practiced rhythm of lifelong lovers rather than a pair who’d shared one juvenile kiss. We know each other better than anyone, giving and taking in a perfect balance.

My dick springs to life, straining against the zipper of my jeans.

She has always affected me like this, a devastating pull that melts the world away. The smallest details can send me scrambling to the bathroom for a date with my hand. That sweet perfume she only wears on the most special of occasions. The way she bites her lip while she works out a problem. Things I should be able to tune out but can’t because she’s Mal.

This is my first real taste of her, and I can’t get enough.

I don’t notice we’re moving until her backside hits the deck railing, anchoring us in place. She’s caged against my body, so soft and warm and mine. But she’s not close enough. Not with this stupid fucking flannel or that glorified bandana she calls a dress in the way.

My fingers fall to her waist again, but I lift her to sit atop the wooden handrail this time. She gasps and clutches at my forearms to steady herself as she dips backward.

“Shh. I have you.” My left hand finds a home in keeping her balanced.

That’s all it takes for her to melt into me and relax. I nestle between her thighs, the short skirt of her dress leaving the silky skin bared. My free hand slides over every inch of it, making her squirm. She’s so goddamn responsive to me. If she’s this riled up from mere touching, I can’t imagine how she’ll be with my fingers inside her.

She whimpers into my mouth as my fingers slowly trail up her inner thigh, meeting the thin fabric of her panties. Cotton, unlike the lacy little things I’ve seen her run around in before.

“It was laundry day,” she mutters. “Don’t laugh, or I’ll cut your balls off.”

Not heeding the warning, I laugh anyway. “Mal, you could be wearing a diaper and still turn me on.”

Her nose scrunches. “Keep that to yourself next time.”

I silence her with kisses, though she lets out a whine of protest when I remove my hand from her panties. I won’t risk the world hearing her come on my fingers. That’s for my ears only.

I cup one of her breasts, finding its nipple hard against my palm.

“Laundry day means no bra, either?”

She shakes her head. “Nope.”

“Invite me over for laundry day.”

Her ankles hook behind my knees and haul me to her, bringing my rock-hard dick between her thighs, flush against those goddamn cotton panties. “Feel free to come tonight.”

Fuck.

I shut her up with kisses before I blow a load listening to her talk in that breathy little voice.

“Well, well, well. What’ve we got here?”

Our mouths fly apart, and I turn, still keeping my hand on Mal’s hip to balance her while I shield her with my body.

It’s Gia, standing outside the exit with a hand on her hip. “What are you doing out here, Gabriel?”

“Panic attack!” Mal squawks before waving at my sister over my shoulder. “Hey, Gigi.”

“A panic attack requires mouth-to-mouth and a boob squeeze?” Gia taunts. “Third base is an interesting remedy.”

“That’s actually second base,” I correct.

Mal swats my arm.

I shrug. “I won’t lie.”

I’m not embarrassed about kissing her. Sure, I would’ve preferred that my little sister hadn’t interrupted us, but I don’t regret a damn thing we’ve done. We’re all adults here, well into our thirties. It’s not like anyone’s a virgin anymore.

Gia weighs my words before nodding in agreement. “You’re right. Third base involves fingers or mouths below the belt. Don’t do that in public. You’ll wind up on a registry.”

“You can’t dish out advice on PDA,” I counter. “I don’t know how you still have a mouth with how often Hudson’s in it.”

And that came out wrong.

Both Gia and Mal laugh at my misfortune.

“Want to rephrase that, big bro?”

“No. I would like you to go inside and give us some fucking privacy, you menace.”

“Hey. Don’t get snappy with me. I innocently came outside when I saw you two engaged in a round of How to Tame Your Dick Dragon on the deck.”

Grumbling, I turn and help Mal down from the railing. “We’re leaving.”

I’m not sticking around for any more of this. My dick is about to explode, and not in a pleasant way.

“Go ahead,” Gia says, indifferent. “Run along before Mom wanders by and sees you two sucking faces. She’ll declare Bridgerton.”

“What the hell is that?” I ask.

Gia’s dark eyes roll with force under the exit light’s glow. “Seriously, Gabe? Do you watch anything besides paint drying?”

“She means your mom will force us to marry,” Mal informs.

“How is that—”

“I’ll explain on the way home.”

Gia’s eyebrows go high. “Ohh. He’s taking you home?”

“No, he’s walking me home,” Mal clarifies. “I have to be up early. We have back-to-back weddings tomorrow at the Manor.”

“You know, a great way to ease your mind before bed involves move number two of the Kama Sutra Workout.”

I shoot daggers at my sister with a glare. “Knock it off, Gigi.”

She sighs dramatically. “I’m just saying that if you run to her place, you’ll still have time to burn some calories, make up for years of lost time, and sleep like rocks when you’re done. Wins all around.”

I intend to continue the battle with my sister until Mal’s eyes meet mine, pleading.

“Have a good night, Gia,” Mal calls, lacing a hand with mine. “Let’s go, Esposito. Time for a crash course on Bridgerton.”

THE DEADBOLT on Mal’s front door turns with a loud click, piercing the silence of the narrow stairwell.

Her apartment sits above Turtle Toys, a mom-and-pop shop that has sold handmade dolls and rocking horses here since my grandmother, Nonnina, was a kid. The third-generation owners moved to a house inland a few years back after welcoming their second set of surprise triplets. A half dozen children weren’t harmonious with the unit’s two-bedroom setup.

A second after the lock releases, Fizzgig is yapping his head off on the other side of the door while his nails click against the foyer’s tile floor.

“Quiet down, Fizz,” Mal soothes, pushing the door wide and flipping on the lights. “It’s just Mommy and Unc— er, Gabriel.”

She catches herself at the start of Uncle, a title she bestowed upon me when she welcomed Fizzgig as her adoptive furry son.

The small, black creature immediately settles, sitting back on his haunches with a groggy look on his little monkey face. He’s an Affenpinscher, which up until Mal brought him home, I hadn’t realized was a breed of dog. As a puppy, he was adorable, but now that he’s reached maturity, the three-year-old canine looks like a pouting patch of pubes most of the time.

Mal places her keys on the set of hooks by the door, followed by her purse, a crocheted over-the-body type she’s had for years.

This is it. My signal to get the hell out.

She asked me to walk her home, not fuck her. If I stay here any longer, I’m going to bed her over the loveseat and go to town. Not exactly the best option when I have zero condoms on me.

Now that I think of it, I have none at my place either, so guess who has to go to the store tomorrow and stir up all sorts of drama? Unless I Prime some peen suits for one-day delivery. Though a day sounds like a year. How am I supposed to stay away from her now that I’ve had a taste? My balls could compete with Papa Smurf’s at this point.

“I’ll see you after work tomorrow?” I ask, deciding that no, my ass is driving inland first thing in the morning to buy some rubbers. Multiple boxes of rubbers. That way we can enjoy a night at my place. A long, exhausting night.

“Sure,” she says, smiling shyly. “But… we haven’t finished what we started.”

“We’ll pick up where we started,” I promise.

After I squeeze the life out of my dick and balls when I get home later. And acquire a crate of condoms.

Her fingers find the buttons on my flannel. “Why are you wearing this tonight?”

My eyes lower to her hands, watching her undo the brown buttons amid the sea of red plaid. “The theme was Lumberjack Night.”

She frowns. “Was it? No one told me.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to think that either no one knew about such a theme or that Dante is a massive fucking liar.”

She giggles. “I’d bet money on the Dante deception.”

“Hey, he told me one truth,” I reveal. “He said you’d be there man-hunting tonight.”

“It seems I’ve bagged a keeper.”

“Not yet.”

Her fingers continue working over the buttons, unfastening them leisurely. “Oh, we can change that.”

“I don’t have any—”

She rises to her tippy toes and presses a kiss to my mouth. “I’m on birth control and was given a clean bill of health last month at my annual checkup. You’ve been on sexual ice for over a decade, and I know you get tested every January just in case a toilet seat monster gets you, Mr. Paranoid. Plus, you’d tell me if you so much as had a pube out of place.”

Well, that offer nuked any bit of resolve I’d had about going home.

“That’s an awful lot of words to say you want me to fuck you.”

She laughs and falls to her knees, hands going to my belt and making quick work of it and my jeans before tugging them down, boxers included. My dick flings free in the process, bobbing high at full mast and coming dangerously close to cracking her in the nose.

“Holy shit, Gabriel.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t you ever apologize for that,” she says, eyes wide as she stares at my dick.

“It almost hit you.”

“You didn’t warn me that you had a police flashlight for a cock.”

I laugh, but the sound is doused when her mouth lowers to the head, sucking me in slowly. She’s only halfway down when I have to grip her hair, finding the clip still holding the damp red strands high. I free them from their prison, letting them fall around her shoulders in a wave before grabbing a handful, needing something to hold onto while she takes me deep into her mouth.

Bottoming out, I feel the heat of her lips against the base of me, and when I look down and see my dick fully sheathed in Mal’s mouth, all I can do is grunt and look up at the ceiling.

“Mal, couch. Now.”

As amazing as this is, I could come right now, and I’m not ready for this to be over. Not before I feel her pussy clenching. Before I watch her come with me inside.

She obeys without a fight and slides my dick from her mouth. I help her to her feet and swat her on the ass as she turns toward the small living area, earning a tiny yelp and a laugh before she skitters toward the loveseat.

Lifting my jeans and boxers, I right them the best I can and follow. Any other day, I’d strip us both entirely, but the need to feel her around me takes over. Years of desire demand urgency.

She stands near the sofa, fingers fumbling with the hem of her dress as I make my way to her. I can already tell she’s self-conscious, her eyes shifting toward the hall light invading the space. When she opens her mouth, I shake my head. Her brows pinch in confusion, but before she can speak, I spin her around and bend her over the sofa’s arm. Her hands grip the arm as mine slip under her dress, gripping her panties at each hip. In one tug, they’re sliding down her thighs, and when I get to her feet, I remove the garment along with her flip-flops.

My hands retrace their path up her legs, making her shiver as I stay kneeling. When they reach her thighs, they take her skirt with them, revealing inch by inch of skin until finally, her pussy is bared to me. It’s already slick and ready for me.

Fuck.

She sucks in a startled breath as the apartment’s cool air meets the sensitive area, and one of her hands immediately darts for her skirt.

“No!”

She immediately stops and replants the hand on the couch.

Before she can second-guess for one fucking moment that she’s perfect, I lean in, tongue meeting her center with a long pass. It’s everything I fucking imagined and more.

She cries out at the contact, hips bucking. “Oh, God.”

“Gabriel,” I correct against her skin. “My name is Gabriel.”

Just for that slip-up, I take off the gloves, lapping at her pussy at my desired rhythm instead of the slow building I’d started with. A strangled cry leaves her lips, fingers clawing at the couch.

I focus my tongue on her clit and work a finger into her, swearing softly at the heat. After a few easy strokes, I add another, relishing as her cries pick up speed to match my tongue’s pace. My fingers maintain a steady rhythm, driving in just enough to ready her for what’s coming.

I suck her clit into my mouth, and it’s over, a choked sob exploding out of her as she comes on my fingers. “Oh, Gabriel! Fuck! Gabriel.”

Her insides clamp around me, milking my fingers for what they’re worth as her entire body shakes.

Keeping my fingers where they belong, I rise to my feet and let my jeans and boxers fall around my ankles again, where they pool atop my boots.

Yes, I’m fucking her in boots. A flannel too. Like some kind of goddamn lumberjack Winnie the Pooh.

I’ll make up for it.

She whimpers as I slide my fingers free from her pussy, but when the head of my dick meets her opening, she goes completely still.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

She nods.

I give her ass a gentle squeeze. “Say it, Mal.”

“I’m okay.”

She might be, but I’m not. I need her so much that it physically hurts. I don’t know how I’m standing. How I’m even breathing.

Gritting my teeth, I sink in, my eyes nearly rolling back in my head at how goddamn perfect she feels around me, still clenched tight from her orgasm. I could come right now.

“Tell me you can take off tomorrow,” I grind out, tilting my head back and staring at the ceiling to get a sliver of control back as I go still inside her.

She laughs hoarsely. Her body shaking with humor almost makes me chew my fucking lip off to keep from coming. “My mother would drag me in by my ear. “

“I’ll hide you.”

“Your place is the second place she’d look after checking here.”

“I’ll hide you in my truck,” I counter. “She’ll never know. Plus, I have tinted windows. We could fuck all day, and no one would know.”

“Someone would hear,” she says, sighing. “Thank God that the new people next door are on vacation and that the other can’t hear for shit. Otherwise, Mrs. Mazlak would be at my door squawking with her cane.”

Honestly, that doesn’t sound so bad right now. A pissed-off old lady could buy me some time. I’m barreling toward a premature blast that even sixteen-year-old me would feel shame over.

“Fuck me,” Mal begs, having realized I’ve frozen over inside of her. “Give it to me hard. Please. I’ve been waiting so fucking long for this.”

God.

My brain is screaming slow your roll, but my hips don’t get the memo, driving in deeper and eliciting a throaty moan from Mal. I sink into the hilt, entirely sheathed in her, and for the second time tonight, I want to pound on my chest like a fucking ape.

I’m fucking Mallory. My Mallory.

She’s mine.

I pull back and slam forward again, coaxing another cry from the woman I love. My pride joins my brain to slam on the panic button, but it’s no use. I can’t stop. Instinct and desire take over.

My body pumps into Mallory without abandon, fighting to stave off orgasm as she takes every thrust readily. My fingers bite at her hips as I lean back, watching my dick slide into her, over and over. It’s the hottest fucking sight I’ve witnessed.

Too fucking hot.

I can’t last. Not like this.

I lift one of her legs to the armrest, angling it for more leverage as my body moves with a mind of its own, filling her to capacity before sliding almost free. A frenzied pace that isn’t sustainable.

One more orgasm.

If I can just get one more orgasm from her, then I can come and not look like a total disappointment. That’ll buy me time to calm down and stir more out of her with my mouth.

Mal’s lost to the world, moaning unintelligibly, the sound of our sex filling her quiet apartment.

Fizzgig chooses now to leap onto the couch, eyeing me with disdain from the opposite end while I fuck his mom raw.

“Fuck off!” I mouth, pointing a hand toward his bed in the corner. A bed I made by hand, with four wooden posters and a functioning curtain. It took me two fucking weeks to make that damn thing, and it was worth every swear because it made Mal happy.

Rather than jump down, the dog holds my gaze.

Absolutely not. I will not come with this fucking dog staring me down. Any other day, we’re friends, but not right now. I’ve waited too long to have his gremlin face etched into my memories surrounding tonight.

“Don’t nut yet,” Mal begs, finding her voice. “Keep fucking me.”

Think of Fizzgig.

Her voice.

No. His little monkey face.

Her words.

No. His scruffy Brillo pad fur.

Her pussy squeezing the hell out of me.

NO! His big eyes.

It’s too much. I lose it.

With a roar, I close my eyes and fill her, driving in with everything I have. My dick pulses, draining my balls deep inside her, and it’s the most amazing sensation I’ve ever experienced. Like the angels themselves are smiling down on me.

It’s short-lived, however, as my brain kicks back into gear and highlights that I’ve maybe lasted all of three minutes. Not a score I’d brag about.

When I open my eyes, Fizzgig’s still staring at me, this time with judgment.

“Sorry,” I mutter, beyond mortified. “Normally, I…”

What? What the fuck am I saying? Normally? I don’t have sex enough for anything to be normal anymore. Well, until now.

“It’s okay,” she soothes, gasping as I slide out of her. “Things got hot fast. I have work in the morning anyway.”

Ouch. I think one of my balls just curled inside my body to die like the Wicked Witch of the East’s leg over that comment.

I have work in the morning anyway.

Fuck. She might as well have said, “You get an A for effort, buddy.”

I just blew my chance in a lifetime with Mal. She won’t want some three-minute miracle.

She turns and hugs me close. Fucking bear hugs me, really.

“Thanks for walking me home.”

And that, my friends, is how you get friendboned.

CHAPTER FOUR

GABRIEL

IT’S NEARLY ONE O’CLOCK, and she hasn’t texted.

No, “Good morning.”

No, “Hey, is your dick still attached?”

No, “Thanks for the quick dickdown.”

No, “Wow, that sucked.”

Silence.

I’m going out of my mind in the shop, trying and failing to finish any task. I can’t seem to wrap up the armoire sketch and knocking out small projects feels next to impossible. Even sweeping feels like climbing Everest on my knees.

Last night was a blur of tossing and turning, dreading sunrise. I fully anticipated receiving a “better off as friends” text, but hearing nothing from her wasn’t on my radar.

She never goes radio silent. Not since my engagement, at least. Back then, I’d figured she was pissed I was marrying Farrah since the two of them liked each other as much as grapefruit and toothpaste. Half of me wonders now if it’s because she had feelings for me way back then, despite her boyfriend at the time. He’s one of a sea of nameless faces. Men I’d envied, even with a wife of my own.

A knock sounds at a quarter to two. I’m debating ignoring it until I realize it’s a soft tap, unlike a bear paw of a strike my brothers might land.

That can only mean it’s one of the women in my life, and none of them deserve to be ignored. Not Mal, Mom, Gia, or most certainly Nonnina. Though I doubt it’s my grandmother. She lost her license a while back after a rash of fire hydrant rammings.

I set down my pencil and head to the door, opening it to reveal Mal. She’s in her usual head-to-toe black, the simple sheath dress and flats serving as her uniform from Thursday to Tuesday. A high ponytail holds her red hair hostage, and her pink cheeks grow red when our eyes meet.

“Howdy.”

“Uh, hi?”

I raw-dogged her over her couch last night, came in record time, and the first thing she says to me the day after is “howdy?” What in the cowboy hell is going on here?

“I need a favor.”

What the fuck? I don’t like the look in her eyes. She seems nervous.

Like that, my nerves calm, and the need to protect her fills the void.

“Anything. What is it?”

Her throat bobs with a swallow. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Spill it.”

“My bed broke.”

“You can’t blame that on me,” I tease. My dick stirs at the thought, only to be numbed when a twinge of something I don’t quite recognize blossoms in my gut. Jealousy, maybe? What the fuck?

“Obviously,” she says, blushing to hell and back. “But you might be able to help.”

“You want me to patch a bed another man broke?” I ask, feeling like Punk’d cameras are about to fly around the corner any second.

It’s been less than 24 hours since my mouth was between her legs. I really must’ve been terrible.

Her eyes go wide, and she sputters, “What? No!” She dips under my arm to step into my shop. “Another man didn’t break it. Well, maybe two did.”

Two? Christ, I’m an amateur. Am I just a hot piece of ass to her? A notch on her belt?

“Enough.” I shake my head. I can’t hear another word of this, or I’ll have a stroke.

“The moving men,” she amends, rubbing at the base of her neck. “I had a new bed delivered, and I think they broke it.”

Thank God. Suddenly, the world doesn’t feel like it’s ending anymore.

“You think, or you know it’s broken?” I ask.

“Know. Four points are loose.”

“I can check it out now.”

“I have to get back to work,” she says. “Want to stop by tonight? We can watch a movie or something after?”

“Or something,” I echo. “Something like…?”

“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

Dread hits my stomach. “You don’t have to.”

Honestly, I don’t want her to say the words. I can’t take hearing them. Not now, at least. I need time to forget how it feels to kiss her. To hold her. To fuck her. A long fucking time. If the feat’s even possible.

Her eyes search mine. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

She sighs. “Fine. Something like you eating my pussy until I speak alien again. Then I’ll suck your dick, make you come, and start riding your face. Once your dick is back up and running, we can fuck all night. That’ll lead to an exhausting day of work tomorrow and plenty of soreness, but you’re worth it. There: I said it. Happy?”

I blink, as it’s the only action I’m capable of.

“But now,” she says, reaching for my belt. “I need you to give me a preview during my lunch break before I tell my monster of an afternoon bride to cram her carnations up her ass.”

I let out a relieved sigh. “Holy fuck, Mal. I thought you were about to give me a just-friends speech.”

She grins, sliding a hand into my jeans to grip my dick, the organ way ahead of my mind in rising to meet her challenge. “Gabriel Esposito, do you think you can get rid of me that easily?”

Laughing, I lower my mouth to hers, discovering she tastes like mint and honey today. “That sounds like someone caught feelings.”

“A woman never tells her secrets,” she muses.

“What if I can get them out of her?”

She’s already stepping out of her panties, a lacy red thong she tucks in the right rear pocket of my jeans once removed. “I’d like to see you try.”

Game on.

“Famous last words, M².”

Gently, I kiss her first, my lips more teasing than torturous. Her hands fall to my chest, gripping my t-shirt and silently pleading for more.

With her distracted, I slip my fingers under her dress, nudging her legs apart with my knee for easier access. The delicate flesh is as hot as I remember and, based on her yip into my mouth, just as sensitive. She’s already wet for me, allowing my fingers to glide inside smoothly, pumping two before easing in a third.

I fuck her mouth with my tongue at the same tempo while using my body to guide her back against the cleanest workbench I have, not wanting to soil her dress. The slightest hint of sawdust will give her away when she returns to work. Once her ass bumps the corner, I lift and settle her on the edge before freeing my dick.

“You sure you don’t want to fess up now?” Might as well offer her one more out.

Breathless from our kisses, she shakes her head, chest rising and falling in pants.

Gripping my dick, I rub the tip against her clit in small circles, coaxing a low hiss from her. “You’re sure?”

“Never.”

So be it.

I alternate between slow loops around her clit to teasing her entrance, sheathing just the tip until pulling out to repeat the process. With every round, her breath quickens, the tiny cries between them growing more strangled.

It isn’t long until she’s the one losing control, falling victim to the same frenzy that overtook me last night. Her legs shake on either side of me, hinting at what’s to come.

As she nears the point of return, I pull back and take a step away.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Waiting.”

“Oh, no. That wasn’t the plan. You were supposed to fuck it out of me.”

“Was I?” I ask, smiling. “Well, change of plans. I like my way more.”

“I don’t.”

I glance at the clock perched high on the wall. “Hm. Someone’s wasting time. Your lunch break is rapidly drawing to a close.”

“This is torture,” she seethes. “You’re not playing fairly.”

Stepping in, I brush my lips against hers softly. She tries to deepen the kiss to no avail, her teeth nipping at my lower lip as I pull away once more. “Not according to Lyly.”

“Who the fuck is Lyly?” she demands, eyes blazing.

God, I love that fire.

“John Lyly,” I clarify with a chuckle. “The author of Euphues.”

“Never read it,” she mutters, aggravation obvious.

“But you know of it.”

She shakes her head. “Not a clue. Sorry. Let’s get back to the sex before I’m forced to go back to work clam dammed and thoroughly flustered.”

“His famous proverb, maybe?” I ask, raising a brow.

Again, she shakes her head.

“All is fair in love and war. Does that ring a bell?”

The irritation melts away from her features. “Yes.”

“Just this once, I’ll let you win,” I offer, stepping back between her legs. I line up our sex and thrust inside, both of us sighing in relief when I’m fully immersed. “I’ll go first.”

Her head falls back with a groan.

“I love you, Mallory Murphy.”

She jolts to attention, straightening. “What?”

I nod, repeating, “I love you.”

Her eyes go wide, unshed tears flooding the sea of honey brown. “Really?”

“More than anything.”

Seemingly forgetting what intimate dance we’re currently engaged in, she drags me in tight for a hug, making us both gasp as I grind against her, bottoming out.

“I love you, too,” she cries, raining kisses across my face, lips gliding along my jaw. “I’ve loved you for so long.”

“But…” I trail.

“But?” she repeats.

“But for the next ten minutes, we’re going to fuck like we hate each other, deal?”

She laughs then, cackling through the happy tears. “Deal.”

About the Author

KB Cinder writes kissing books with heat, hahas, and HEAs. When she’s not writing her face off or reading something she shouldn’t in public, you can find her scaring the daylights out of her husband, Panda.

You can catch her on Facebook, TikTok, and Instagram.

Friendboned is part of the Bay Breeze series, available on Amazon. For a taste of something darker, check out her other pen name, Karina Light.

IN A SNAP!

KD PROCTOR

CHAPTER ONE

WHEN I WAS in drivers ed, I remember the instructor telling us about “highway hypnosis.” It’s where you operate a car, often driving for long distances, but you have no memory of what took place.

In my case, I think I have a similar condition known as “hallway hypnosis”—where I was just able to walk from the mailbox in our on-campus apartment building, up two flights of steps, and into the apartment I share with my roommates, all while reading the most disappointing letter of my life—and not running into anything.

“God. Don’t tell me you’ve caught that flu that’s going around,” my twin sister Morgan mutters. With an underhand toss she chucks wet paper towels into the trash can and stashes the disinfecting spray under the sink. “You look like you’ve been run over.”

“I didn’t get in.” The words taste bitter coming out of my mouth.

There has to be a mistake. I’m first in my class. While internships take place senior year and technically, I’m a junior, the Neurology chair assured me that there would be space.

Toeing off my boots, my jacket and book bag land in a pile on the floor. Morgan walks up to me and pulls the letter out of my hand. “Didn’t get into…what?”

“My pre-med internship. My last name, Channing, should be between that kid with the horrible bad breath, Carlson, and the girl Christenson, who got caught in the chem lab last spring making out with the person with bad breath.” I gesture towards the paper she’s holding. “And trust me. I’ve looked under every letter of that freakin’ alphabet. I’m not under the C’s, the A’s for Ashley or under the J’s for my middle name, Jane.”

Morgan scans the list herself, even though it’s pointless. A moment passes and when she flips to the second page, a smirk tugs at her lips. My stomach plummets to the floor. I’ve been on the receiving end of that look since birth and it’s never, ever good. I rip the letter out of her hand to see for myself.

The second page is a form letter outlining the reasons why I was denied. At this point I’d rather cut open a jalapeño and then rub my eyes because that won’t sting nearly as bad as this does. Phrases like, “…needs to branch out…” “…not ready…” “…craves routine…” litter the page. At the bottom is Dr. Phillips’ loopy signature. He’s been my academic advisor for the last three years and suddenly it feels like this has all be some evil trick. He knows how important this is to me.

A low chuckle comes from Morgan’s direction. I slowly turn my gaze towards her and she’s now got a hand covering her mouth as more giggles try to escape.

“This isn’t funny. You know how—”

“So, let me get this straight.” She holds up a hand, cutting me off. “The internship you’ve been dreaming of since, like, junior year of high school was denied.”

“Correct.” I toss the letter on the counter and grab a bottle of water from the fridge.

The second I do, I know it’s a mistake. Morgan swoops in and grabs it, dramatically holding it out at arm’s length like she’s in some Shakespeare play about to recite a sonnet to the audience. “Because you’re a…what did they say? Ah, yes. A predictable, creature of habit.”

“Technically it said ‘craves routine’.” I say more to my water bottle than her.

“And you’re just supposed to…?” She cocks her head to the side, tapping her chin with her finger, like she’s deep in thought.

With a heavy sigh, I mutter, “Branch out.” Defeated, I shuffle to the living room and collapse into the couch. Morgan follows and plants herself on the ottoman, blocking my view of the television I hoped to lose myself in a binge watch marathon.

I’m officially in Dante’s Circles of Hell. All of them. All at once.

She plucks the remote out of my hand. “Do you even know how to branch out? Like, how to be a regular college student? You know there isn’t a class for that, right?”

I hate being a twin sometimes. We may not be identical, but we have been known to read each other’s thoughts by just being in the same room. We’re also exact opposites. She is no doubt loving this. Me, the science, data, logic, straight A’s since pre-school. Her, the carefree, live in the moment, doesn’t sweat it if she earns a B-. Using all the force I can muster I kick the ottoman. It doesn’t budge. “Why don’t you show me how it’s done then?”

Her gaze locks onto mine and she mimics my statement in a snarky tone. But a second later she tosses the remote on to the couch and hops up, pulling me by my arms.

“Get up. Go get your coat.”

I groan. “What? No. I was joking. I’m not moving.”

“Too late. Get up.” Morgan claps her hands. “Let’s go. If there is one thing I know how to do, that’s how to be a regular ol’ college student and I, dear sister, am going to show you how it’s done. There’s a basketball game tonight and we’re going.”

JANUARY IN MAINE isn’t exactly balmy, and the idea of going to a game has me wishing I was back in the neurology lab where it’s quiet and warm—with no requirement to be a normal college student anywhere in sight.

“Mmmm. I could go for a mocha. Want one?” Morgan points to the campus coffee house, The Beanery, just a few yards away.

“Yes. And you’re buying.”

The place is packed, the line nearly out the door. Looks like everyone else had the same idea tonight. When I look over the crowd, everyone is dressed in their maroon and gold gear. Classes started mid-week this semester, and normally on Thursdays, everyone is headed downtown for dollar beers and cheap appetizers. At least this coffee will warm us up before going back outside where the temperature is hovering at “freezing my knickers off.”

“Well, if you’d grabbed a hat, you wouldn’t be so cold.” Morgan gives me the once over, shaking her head at me as I hop in place.

“I’ve got a hood.” I yank it up, knowing it won’t be enough to shield my ears from the bitter wind. My sour mood had clouded my judgement, and I hadn’t thought to grab a hat. Not that I’d admit that to Morgan.

“You’re going to get frost bite.” She pulls her knit, Milton University hat off her head and shoves it down onto mine. It’s ridiculous. A golden grizzly bear sits front and center, and there’s no way the earflaps or the long, braided cords that hang down to my elbows serve any purpose other than to look like an idiot.

I open my mouth to protest, but she throws me a look that makes me snap my lips shut. This is who Morgan is. She takes care of people. Since our mom got sick with ALS, she’s really stepped up into the caregiver role. Our dad—a lobster boat fisherman—has had to take on more trips to help pay for our mom’s care. Mom’s illness is also why I chose neurology.

Sometimes I just had to pick my battles, and this is one I wouldn’t win. Never mind that I’d just donned the most hideous thing I’ve probably ever worn.

We order our drinks and wait with the masses. The baristas froth milk and grind espresso as fast as their little machines will let them. One of the staff calls out four orders all at once. Without so much as a glance, I reach for my large peppermint mocha at the same time as someone else. Our elbows bump first. Then our wrists.

“Oh, sorry,” a smooth voice says, making me warm all over. “Too many of us all at once.”

Our hands dive in again, but this time, I catch a glimpse of a tiny swatch of purple checked gingham peeking out from under his dark gray jacket. That flash of color serves as a giant flashing arrow, directing me to look up and feast my eyes on a pair of broad shoulders that meet a rugged jaw—with just the right amount of scruff. My mouth goes dry when I come face to face with a pair of dark rimmed glasses that highlight a set of baby blue stunners that make my stomach barrel roll.

Just when I think it can’t get any better, I take in his messy but neat hair that is—I don’t care what anyone says—sexy as hell. A smile tugs at his lips, and I bite back a groan. He’s got one tooth that is slightly off kilter, and holy guacamole…he’s got a dimple too?

Is this really happening, or am I in a coma?

Holding up his coffee in a see you around kind of gesture, he heads for the door. But not before glancing back over his shoulder and flashing another toothpaste commercial smile. My knees go weak. A millisecond later, reality smacks me upside the head. What if that smile isn’t for me but for someone else instead? Like the barista? I spin around. No barista. In fact, the only thing there is a display of holiday mugs on clearance.

Holy crap. That smile was for me. I whip back around and catch a partial glimpse of his nicely toned behind, that—thank God—isn’t covered by his jacket. He holds the door open for a family coming inside before he slips out the door.

Hot and a gentleman.

I crane my neck to try and see which direction Mr. Purple Gingham went, but some chick with a giant fur hat moves in front of me as she waits for her drink.

“Aspen! Aspen! Large peppermint mocha.”

“It’s Ashley, not Aspen.” I crash back to earth as Morgan corrects the guy. When I turn around, the tassels of her ugly hat brush against my neck and I groan.

Of course. The time I rub elbows with a hot guy not only did I forget to sneak a peek at his cup to find out his name, but I’m wearing a hat I wouldn’t be caught dead in any other time of the year.

At least he didn’t hear the barista call me Aspen.

“What’s gotten into you?” Morgan shoves my drink into my hands.

“Did you see that guy?” I grab a paper sleeve.

“What guy?”

“The guy who almost took my drink. Well, his drink.” I can’t hold back my smile. “He…I mean, we. We both reached for…and he’s got this purple…and a huge dimple…”

“You’re babbling.” Morgan takes a sip of her mocha.

“I might seriously be in love.” Okay. Not really in love. But a heavy amount of lust.

Her eyes go wide, and she flashes a smirky grin to match. “Really? That good, huh?”

I make my way to the door. “Forget a new laptop. I want him for my birthday. Gift wrap optional.”

Outside the coffee house, we walk toward the arena. I can’t help but scan the crowds to see if the mystery man is anywhere in sight. Like most of the students in my major, dating is a rarity for me. Those of us jockeying the top ten or twenty spots in our class would rather spend our Saturday nights cuddling up to mice in a lab or bacteria in a petri dish.

I mean, we’re not taking chastity pledges or anything. I’ve had a hook up or two now and again, but Camden, Maine isn’t exactly the singles mecca of New England. Adulting sometimes means sacrificing hot guys for a top-notch pre-med education.

Then again, could this be the “branching out” Dr. Phillips wanted me to explore?

Once we get inside the arena, the crowds are massive. If anyone has issues with personal space, they’re screwed. Food vendors have lines ten people deep, and the souvenir shop is swarming with people too. As we make the climb to the student section and find a seat, a volunteer in our section gives Morgan a flyer.

Snap your story tonight using the Milton University Snapchat Feed

Morgan squeals and pulls out her phone. Tapping the screen a few times, she points the camera right at me. I, however, am not in the mood.

“No.” I turn away from her.

“Calm down. It’s Snapchat.” She waves her hand at me. “It’ll be deleted in 24 hours. Come on—give your sister a little sugar.”

I give her the finger.

She hauls out that death stare again, the same one she used when I tried to take off her hat. I dish it right back, but it’s no use. With a sigh, I take a pause, preparing myself for a photo I know Morgan will save to her phone and use as blackmail later.

“Tell me the best part about tonight?” She shoves the phone closer to my face like some nosy newspaper reporter trying to get the latest scoop.

“I’m here with my big sister, what else!” I pucker my lips, complete with fake kissing noises.

“Glad to know I outrank the hot guy who practically gave you an orgasm.”

I can feel my face flush. Morgan has always taken an interest in my love life. For years, she tried setting me up with her friends, but I awkwardly fumbled through it. For once, though, I don’t brush off her comments.

I sip my drink and look at her from over the edge. Humming into my cup, I toss out an eyebrow waggle. “I wouldn’t mind steaming up his glasses.” I lower my voice, a grin tugging at my lips. “I also wouldn’t mind finding out what’s under that purple gingham shirt.”

“I bet you would.” She snickers as we take our seats.

A few taps on her phone’s screen and that’s that.

As the game moves close to the end of the first half, I have to admit it isn’t so bad. Morgan and I are having so much fun taking selfies and busting a move when the DJ plays songs to get the crowds pumped up that I almost don’t pull out my phone as it buzzes against my thigh.

But the vibrations are coming steady, rapid firing one after another. I dig out my phone from my jeans and find a text from my friend Will.

You’re trending on Twitter.

CHAPTER TWO

WILL IS CONSTANTLY MAKING up stuff just to have someone fall for it. I learned my lesson with him long ago. Rather than say he’s “just kidding”, he points and laughs at your stupidity instead. I’m about to shove my phone back in my pocket when he fires off another text, this time with a link. Like hell if I’m going to open that. It’s probably porn. I close out of his message, but another text pings from my friend Trish.

And another from my lab partner, Jake.

Followed by one from our neighbor Mark.

Texts are rapid firing one after another to the point that the people around us are throwing me dirty looks for my phone blowing up.

I tap on the message from my friend Julia and for once Will wasn’t being a jerk. Her text is six tiny words but they might as well be as big as a billboard on the interstate.

You have to find Purple Gingham!

Julia even went as far as to attach a screenshot of Twitter. When I punching the screen, the thing zooms open. There I am, stupid hat and all with a hashtag—#snapchatlovestory.

“Holy cats!” I elbow Morgan. “Look!”

She snatches my phone and gasps. After a few additional taps of the screen, she holds up my phone to show me what she’s found on Twitter.

I’m not only trending…I’m a GIF.

There I am, on an endless loop, mouthing the words, “I wouldn’t mind steaming up his glasses.”

I clap a hand over my mouth. That’s going to be all over the pre-med building tomorrow.

Morgan buries her nose in her own phone now. No doubt she’s telling all her friends about how I’m now in Twitter’s GIF library. A few seconds later, she squeals, hopping on the balls of her feet so fast she stumbles and falls back into her chair.

“They posted my video on the Milton University feed! On Snapchat!”

Though I’m on social media, I never got into Snapchat, so I have no idea what in the world that even means. I sit down, and we both huddle over her phone. There I am, front and center, gushing about the hot guy in gingham. While it’s crazy that my clip is out on Snapchat, it’s even crazier that several other people have jumped on the feed, posting their videos too.

“Wait. People have seen this?” I face Morgan, whose cheesy grin is twice the size it was earlier.

“Yeah! That’s the point! Milton has a public feed where everyone can upload their videos, and then they randomly select some to spotlight for their followers to see.”

She taps the screen and more videos pop up.

Seriously? Has anyone seen this Gingham dude? We need proof!

I need to know if Goldie has found Gingham.

I slump. Lovely. I’ve been nicknamed after the stupid Milton University mascot, Goldie the Grizzly.

Okay, Goldie? You’re adorable. If you don’t find Gingham, my brother is available.

Stupid nickname aside, I do find their curiosity appealing. But at the same time, all this does is make me feel like an idiot for yammering about him to begin with. This guy is probably long gone. Knowing my luck, he stopped in to get a coffee before heading home for the night to his perfect partner, and now they’re lounging together on the couch doing things I haven’t done in months.

My stomach morphs into a ball of knots. For someone I’ve only seen for a grand total of six seconds, I’m suddenly jealous of whoever is sharing his couch space.

“Okay. I’m done. Can we please just enjoy the game?” My tone resembles a ten-year-old who got screen time taken away. A heaviness flows down my spine, and I drop into my seat with a thud. I tap the screen to close out of it, but it doesn’t. It advances to the next video. I groan and start to shove Morgan’s phone away when I do a double take.

It’s him.

Gingham.

When it finally registers in my head who I’m seeing, my heart races, and I jump back to my feet. That lopsided grin is warm and inviting and makes me melt just like it did when we reached for our coffee. The video plays so fast, I miss his message, and in a blip, it’s gone off the screen.

“Morgan! That was him—he left a message.” I point at the screen. “But it’s gone! Damn it. Now I’ll never know what he said.” I scowl and reluctantly hand her back her phone.

She scoffs. “Just replay it.”

“I thought you said they disappear?”

“The feeds are different.” She taps the screen, and sure enough, the same messages we just saw plays again. When his sexy face fills the screen, I yank the phone out of her hand and crank the volume before I press the speaker to my ear.

Hey, Goldie. I’m here at the game, grabbing a beer with my friends outside section 108. How about you come find me?

What just happened? Is this even for real?

The video ends, and I stare at the other videos on the feed. There are more videos wondering if we’ve found each other, and I’m so stunned that he wants to meet me that my insecurity and doubt give me an instant headache. I’m usually not like this when it comes to guys. This has so much riding on it. What if he’s a jerk? Or worse, this is just a giant joke and I’m the butt of it?

Morgan plucks her phone from my hand, and the next thing I know, she grabs my elbow, pulls me into the aisle of our section, and then zips down the steps.

“Where are we going?” I call after her. The buzzer overhead blares, and when I look up, we’ve reached halftime. More people spill out onto the staircases to hit up the concession stands and bathrooms.

“Where do you think? Section 108!”

“Morgan! Wait!”

She stops and spins around. Her jaw is set, and she’s fidgeting with her hands. I know this look. I’ve seen it a zillion times.

The people in our section move around us like the we’re two large boulders in a river. Try as I might to say something, nothing comes out right away. This is nuts! Who posts a video, gets the whole campus fired up, and then gets invited over for a drink? I’ve been trying to embrace Dr. Phillips’ suggestion to relax and loosen up, but it’s like I’ve gone from zero to seventy in the blink of an eye.

Morgan sighs heavily. “I need this.”

Her voice cracks. My heart sinks.

“Ash. It hit me the other day that we’ll graduate next year, and then you’ll be in medical school. And I’ll be here. With you gone and Dad out on the boat, I’ll be taking care of Mom alone. I need some fun memories to remember when things get hard. Okay?”

After a particularly rough lobster season last winter, where I was holed up in the neurology lab and Dad wasn’t around, Morgan had said she felt like the world was just…dark. Worried, I begged her to see someone at the university’s counseling center. She now goes a few times a month. I don’t know what my sister needs to stay above the darkness, but I made her promise me that she’d ask when she did need something. And when she asked, I’d do my best to deliver.

That’s exactly what she’s doing. She’s asking. And I’m putting on the brakes, not living up to my part of the bargain.

I straighten up, the tassels of that stupid knit hat hitting my chin and neck. I try and concentrate on the half time show where Milton’s cheerleaders tear up the court with their routine, but it doesn’t do any good. None of this makes sense.

“Ashley. Please?”

There’s no way that this could be a joke. People don’t go onto a public Snapchat feed and tell someone they bumped into while getting coffee to find them. And he’d have to be single for it to even work. Who invites someone to come find them if they’re in a relationship? After all, Dr. Phillips did say I wasn’t a risk taker. I liked routine and predictability. As a scientist by nature, I like probability and trying to figure out the odds on if my hypothesis will ever actually work.

This is so ridiculous.

“Fine. Open Snapchat.”

Her eyes light up like the dance team dressed in their rhinestone studded outfits. She fumbles with her phone as my mind is a scrambled mess of thoughts. What if I sound like an idiot? What if he sees me as a total pre-med nerd who dreams of brain stem smears on slides? Or worse, what if I sound desperate or whiny or…or…

Why is flirting with a hot guy so difficult?

Morgan points her phone’s camera right at me and gives me a nod.

“Hey, Gingham!” I give a one-handed wave and try to smile. But not too wide. Or too toothy. Or too cheesy. I run my tongue over my teeth. Inside, I groan because I cannot believe I just did that. I smile again and continue. “We…me and my sister…we’re headed over to section 108. Maybe I can buy you another coffee? Or a beer? Or nachos or…something?”

It’s official. I want to dive into a janitor’s closet and never come out. Seriously, this guy is going to think I’m such a dork.

Morgan squeals. I’m guessing she’s uploaded the video because she slides her phone back into her pocket and drags me out onto the crowded concourse.

“Ashley! That was perfect.”

“Really?” My hands are pressed to my cheeks. A tiny laugh pops out. “That sounded so lame.”

She turns and locks her gaze on mine. Always needing to make sure I’m taken care of, she smooths out my jacket. Her smile is warm, almost calming. She grabs ahold of my shoulders and gives them a squeeze. “No. It was ‘perfectly Ashley.’”

My nerves downshift from a thirty-five to a solid fifteen. Anytime I’ve ever needed to be talked off the ledge—before a science fair presentation, soccer rivalry game, awards banquet—that’s what Morgan would say to me. She always has faith that I will succeed because everything I do is “perfectly Ashley.”

Morgan’s eyes sparkle, and a minute later, she hops on the tips of her toes and does this little skip before we’re taking off zigzagging between people getting beer and hot dogs. I keep my eyes peeled, trying to find Section 108 of the arena.

We’re almost to his section when someone shouts, “Hey! It’s Goldie! She’s going to find Gingham!”

I have no idea who said it, but I spin and around mid-run and shout, “Wish us luck!”

We make it to Section 108, and I bend over at the waist to catch my breath. “Oh my God!” Morgan squeals, shoving her phone under my nose. “This thing is blowing up the Milton University feed!”

Goldie and her sister just ran by! Gingham better not be a douche.

Oh my God! Goldie is going for it! GO GOLDIE GO!

Is Goldie’s sister available? She’s pretty cute!

Morgan giggles. “That’s sweet.”

“One Snapchat connection at a time, okay?”

The next video snippet plays and it’s him. That killer smile and crooked tooth sends a jolt straight to my chest. It’s going to be hard enough to run all over this arena, let alone on the verge of a heart attack.

But for him? I’d do it.

He turns around and three people—one girl, two guys—crowd into the screen.

“Hey Goldie!” They all say in unison. Gingham shakes his head a little and the girl grabs the camera. “This guy is my best friend and I promise, he’s the real deal. We’re headed over to The Red Pepper to get something to eat before making our way down to The Local.”

“Damn it! They left?” I pull the hat off my head, cool air hitting my scalp. “No way in hell I’m running across campus in the cold. I’m already a sweaty mess!”

“The Red Pepper is just over in the Union. It’s a couple of blocks, tops. Come on.” She grabs her hat and shoves it back down on my head. “That hat is like a pregnant person in labor.”

I scoff. “What?”

“Think about it. When a pregnant person goes into labor, they can part a crowd like Moses parting the Red Sea. With you in that hat, people are going to move. Everyone knows your story, Ashley.”

As we head for the exit, the TV monitors at the arena display an ad for the Milton University School of Medicine. Dr. Phillips is there talking about our placement rates. Seeing his face reminds me that it’s his fault I even got into this mess.

But this is what college is all about, I guess. Fun, spur of the moment, butterfly inducing decisions that toss all logic and common sense out the window. I’ve never done anything this risky or crazy in my life.

Time for that to change.

“Let’s do it.”

CHAPTER THREE

MORGAN WASN’T JOKING about the hat.

Outside, the bitter January air whips past us. The idea of actually getting to talk to Gingham in person makes the bitter cold blasting against my cheeks somewhat tolerable. Back to school parties rock the fraternities and sororities as we dash down University Avenue.

We roll past the Alpha Kappa Mu house that’s holding a giant beer pong tournament with trashcans painted red, and instead of a ping-pong ball, they’re using a basketball. From across the yard, our other roommate, Cody, flags us down.

“Morgan!” He leaps over a snowbank, beer cup in hand, and doesn’t even spill a drop. When he reaches our side, he throws his arm around Morgan’s shoulder and pulls her to him. “Come play a round with us!”

Though it’s dark outside, the streetlights give me a perfect view of Morgan’s face. She’s currently in a state of bliss cuddled into Cody’s side. It’s no secret that Morgan’s had a crush on Cody since we were in the eighth grade. She’s dated her fair share of guys, but he’s always been her Mt. Everest.

Morgan gives me that look—the one I’ve been on the receiving end of since we were kids. She wants to stay and play. But I know she also doesn’t want to miss out on finding Gingham either. Problem is, he and his friends are on the move, and if we don’t catch up to them soon, we’ll be out of luck.

I rest my hands on my head, blow out a breath, and look down the street toward the Union. Gingham’s probably watching the door and waiting for me to walk in—goofy hat and all. But they did say they’d be going to The Local after that too.

I hold up one finger. “One round. Then we have to go.” Cody whistles so loud it could wake the dead and heads over to the beer pong set up. I grab Morgan’s elbow from behind and pull her back.

“I know. I owe you,” she mutters as she rolls her eyes.

I drop my voice. “I’m serious. One round.”

“Relax! Beer pong doesn’t take that long.”

TWO HOURS and three rounds later, Morgan is buzzed and can’t stop hanging all over Cody—who doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, a few times tonight, I’ve caught him whispering in her ear and brushing the side of her head with his lips once or twice.

When the final basketball is dunked into the opponent’s trash can, I swoop in and peel Cody and Morgan apart. I know my sister, and while she’d love to have a night with Cody, I also know it won’t end how she wants. She’ll want more. He’ll want less. And I’ll be stuck in the middle as our apartment turns into the Land of Awkward Hookups and Broken Hearts.

“You’re leaving?” Cody whimpers, complete with a lip pout. “We’re going inside to play flip cup!”

My sister turns to me wide eyed and excited about another drinking game. I make a face. “No. You promised.”

“Promised what?” Cody asks.

Morgan points toward the student union. “She’s meeting a guy.” She sings the last word, and his eyes fly open in surprise. I groan. Cody will be like a dog on a bone with this. He won’t let up, and he’ll pester me at every turn. He’s worse than Morgan sometimes.

“It’s not a big deal.” I nod toward the Union. “Come on. Let’s go.”

She shakes her head and pulls out her phone. Within seconds Snapchat is open and she’s sharing the feed with Cody. He sees our back-and-forth responses and I can feel my cheeks warm. Hearing all the videos replay again—including Gingham’s calm and smooth-as-butter voice—sends a flood of pinpricks over my skin. Everyone who has submitted a video seems to be really excited for us to connect. Pinpricks wash over my skin. Maybe I should’ve posted something when we got dragged into the never-ending game of beer pong. At least to let him know I was planning to swing by.

“Oh my God. You have a private message!” Cody points to the screen.

“What?” I rip the phone out of Morgan’s hand. “How do you know it’s from him?”

He points to the screen. “That icon means you have a private message.” He then looks at Morgan. “I mean. I’m assuming it’s from him. Unless it’s for Morgan?” His tone changes from his usual, teasing way to something more curious.

She flushes and clears her throat. “You only get one shot to see it. Here, do this.” She taps her screen and hands it back to me a minute later. “Whatever you do is recording. So you can see it again if you miss something.”

We don’t have time to play around, so I tap the icon. Gingham’s private message pops up, and I swallow hard when I realize he sent it almost two hours ago.

“Hey. I just wanted you to know that if you don’t want to meet up, no hard feelings or anything. It would be nice to meet you though. We’ve changed our plans, and instead of The Local we’re headed down to Whitey’s.”

Damn. Whitey’s isn’t close to campus at all. And since his message was two hours ago, he’s probably long gone. I hand Morgan her phone and try not to show my disappointment.

“Ready to go home?” I hitch my thumb over my shoulder and inch down the sidewalk.

“No!” Cody holds up his hand. “You’re not going back to the apartment. You’re going to Whitey’s.”

I shake my head. “That message was hours ago. He’s probably gone.”

He scowls at me. “No. You’re not giving up that easily. My God, Ashley. You flirted with this guy over a public Snapchat feed. He’s interested. You’re interested. I haven’t seen you this excited since junior year of high school when Mark Wiseman made you so tongue-tied you could barely do your calculus homework.”

Morgan grabs my arm and yanks me into the fraternity house, a pace behind Cody. “Where are we going?”

“Whitey’s,” they say in unison.

It’s no use. If I tried to go home, these two would follow me in Cody’s car as I walked down the street. We step into the frat house, and a few of the guys shout and point in my direction.

“Hey! It’s Goldie!”

They crowd around me, asking rapid fire questions about Gingham. And in that moment, the pit in my stomach grows a little bigger. So many people are invested in this, watching a modern-day fairy tale play out on social media. I can’t help but wonder if I’m going to let people down if it doesn’t turn out just like they’d hoped.

“Morgan!” I shout. She’s several steps ahead of me, moving through the crowds like a snowplow. “Wait.”

She turns to look at me. Though we don’t speak, I know she can read my thoughts, my fears. She makes her way back to me and grabs me in a giant bear hug. Our cold, sweaty cheeks press against each other.

She whispers, “I’ve got a good feeling about this, Ash.”

“Yeah?”

Morgan steps away and grabs my hand. “The best.” She pulls out her phone and holds it up like we’re going to take a selfie. Instead, she opens Snapchat, and with a few taps of the screen, we’re recording.

“Hey Gingham!” I smile sweetly at the camera. “Sorry we got held up…but we’re on our way to Whitey’s. I need to make good on my promise to buy you that drink.”

Morgan leans in close to me, getting her face barely into the camera frame. “It’s my fault we’re late, but I promise, my sister is worth the wait. Don’t leave!” With a tap of the screen, we send the message off into the Snapchat universe.

Twenty minutes later, we arrive at Whitey’s. I pause before going in, my hand frozen on the door, and swallow hard. I pull in a deep breath.

No pressure. It’s just a guy.

A hot guy who has you running all over.

“Ready?” Cody asks.

I nod. I catch my reflection in the glass of the door. Yanking off that stupid hat, I use my fingers as a comb to smooth down my hair. Morgan and Cody both give me a thumbs up.

Inside, the place is packed. I scan the crowd on my tiptoes, but I can’t see him anywhere. The three of us nudge our way to the center of the room. Morgan taps a guy on the shoulder. “Hey. Mind if I use this for a second?” She points to the barstool. “I promise, you can have it back.”

He slides off his seat and she climbs up, using it as a small stepladder. She starts on her knees but eventually moves to her feet as she scans the crowd.

“See him?” I bounce up and down on my toes, but I can’t see anything.

She shakes her head, winks, and sticks two fingers in her mouth. Oh no. I grab the leg of her jeans to try and stop her, but it’s too late. An ear-piercing whistle cuts through the crowd, and the place falls somewhat silent.

“Anyone seen Gingham? From the Snapchat Love Story?”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd, picking up in intensity. People mumbling about seeing me, and some girls gasping about how sweet it all is. Another group of girls take out their phones and start snapping pictures. The pit in my stomach grows as big as the Grand Canyon.

Geez. No pressure or anything.

From across the room, someone screams and waves their hands back and forth. “Over here!”

Morgan jumps down off the stool. The crowds part for us as we get closer. The girl who took over Gingham’s Snapchat a bit ago jumps up and down. She throws her arms around Morgan’s neck and then mine. She smells like fruity perfume and beer, and her eyes are glassy.

“Shit…I can’t believe you showed up!” She gives me the once-over and leans in to whisper—only it’s really not a whisper at all—“You two are going to make a cute couple!”

I blush. “Nice to meet you too.”

I still don’t see him. I spin to look at the bar, but I can’t find anyone in purple gingham.

Or glasses.

Or a gray coat.

“Hey! What are you guys doing here?” A voice calls out to us, but it’s not his voice. I turn around, and one of the guys from that group message waves to me. “Didn’t you see his last Snap? You just missed him. He got called into work.”

“Shit!” Morgan pulls up Snapchat.

My heart flutters as his face fills the screen. He runs a hand through his hair while he speedwalks down a street with a steady flow of traffic, nowhere near Whitey’s.

“Hey, Goldie. I’m sorry. I’m a first-year resident at Camden General. I just got called in for a trauma. If you make your way to Whitey’s, my friends are there.” He looks into the camera and speaks directly to me. That smile of his turns my insides to Jello. “Get my number; let’s do this for real and grab dinner or something.”

My heart takes off like a kite in a windstorm and I can’t contain my smile.

Morgan fist pumps in the air in the air. “Yes!”

I roll my eyes and Gingham’s friends laugh. “You realize the number is for me, right?”

“Get out your phone!” Morgan gestures toward my jacket, and I laugh as I reach inside one of my pockets. And then another. I pat down my coat and the back pockets of my jeans. My heart sinks.

“Son of a bitch! My phone’s gone.”

“What?” Morgan groans. “Are you serious?”

We were in so many crowds tonight: at the coffee house, the arena, even over at the fraternity house. Not to mention all the running around we did. It could’ve easily fallen out of my pocket or worse, been stolen. Without missing a beat, one of his friends takes a paper coaster from their table and scribbles his number onto it, shoving it in my hand. “He’s a damn good guy. I promise.”

“And he’s not a creeper,” the girl says, slurring her words.

I chuckle at what he wrote on the coaster.

Gingham

CHAPTER FOUR

AFTER ALL THAT RUNNING AROUND, I’m exhausted. Morgan nods like she knows—she always knows—and we say our goodbyes to the group. As we head out, I turn in the opposite direction of Morgan and Cody. I don’t want to be antisocial, but I also wants a few minutes alone to collect myself.

Morgan grabs my arm. “Where are you going?”

“I need some time to myself.” I shrug. Tonight was fun. It was fun to chase a possibility of meeting a cute guy and getting to know him better. I’m not used to having fun that doesn’t involve a lab and microscope. It’s hard to wrap my mind around it.

“No! Come on!” Morgan pouts and paws at my arm. She stares at me for a minute before pulling me into a hug. “At least take my phone.” She pulls away and reaches into her pocket.

I kiss her on the cheek and walk away from them. I wave over my shoulder because I can feel Morgan’s worried gaze. “I’m fine! I promise. I’ll see you at home later.”

I pull my sister’s stupid hat down over my head again as I shuffle my way down the frost-covered sidewalk. It’s colder than it was when we were playing beer pong, and after a few blocks, I begin to question my decision to be outside walking around. I should’ve just gone back to the apartment.

My mitten covered hands are shoved into my pockets and I feel the coaster Gingham’s friend gave me. My heart kicks out an extra couple of beats at the idea of texting him and getting to know him outside of this whole Snapchat business.

Without even realizing it, The Beanery’s downtown location is just a block head, and it brings a smile to my face. I could definitely use some warmth and another cup of coffee. I duck inside, and the bell over the door dings. Two baristas gasp and point at me as I approach the counter.

“Did you find him?” they ask in unison.

I sigh. “We found his friends, but he got called into work.”

They both slump.

“Sorry. What would you like?” One of the girls looks around and then says in a whisper. “On us.”

I laugh. “Sure. I’ll have a peppermint mocha. It’s what started this whole thing after all.”

I listen to the baristas chat as they make my coffee. They’re talking about the possibility of snow, and how romantic it would be for me to kiss Gingham as the snowflakes falls from the sky. While that does sound pleasant, I have no interest in slogging home in the snow.

I pull out Morgan’s phone and open the voice app. We sound enough alike that it listens to me. “Look up local cab companies.”

“I can take you back to campus if you want.”

My insides warm going from chilly to flaming, and it has nothing to do with the fireplace or the espresso machines.

It’s him. Gingham.

He slides up next to me and places his order. When he leans in to pay, I catch a faint hint of spice. Man alive, I thought the purple gingham and grey coat were hot, but the scrubs are hotter. It dawns on me that Camden General is just two blocks down the road. Somehow, I’d managed to walk right by his work without meaning to.

Maybe the universe knows what it’s doing after all?

“I thought you had to work?” I take my mocha from the now speechless and smitten barista.

He nods toward my cup. “I needed coffee.” He flashed me that crooked smile, and I’m sure I’m going to melt into a pile of goo right here. “That and they had too many residents on the shift tonight. So, they let me go home.”

“Lucky me,” I say into my cup before I take a sip. He catches my gaze as he bites back a smile. That pinging sensation in my chest intensifies and I feel a little woozy.

Gingham grabs his coffee and nods. “Lucky you. And me too.”

We look at each other, and I swear it’s like every cheesy Hallmark movie my sister makes me watch when she needs a good, sappy lovefest. I always thought it was an editing technique to make everything blurry around the couple as sound fades away like they’re underwater.

It’s not fancy editing. It’s really real.

He takes a step closer to me. “May I take you home?”

I bite my lip to hold back my smile. I love that he asked permission.

I nod and hold up my index finger. “On one condition.”

His takes another sip of his coffee. “Name it.”

“Please stop calling me Goldie. My name is Ashley.”

He swallows his drink and laughs. “Oh, thank God. I hated Gingham. I’m Tanner.”

Somehow, we’ve floated out of the coffee shop and down the sidewalk to his car. I’m only half aware of the world around us. But once we stop in front of his car, I giggle.

“What?” He clicks a button, and the car unlocks.

“I just…I don’t know. I expected you to drive like a Land Rover or something. A Lexus maybe? Not a—”

“Honda Civic?” He slaps the roof. “Paid for.”

I open the door. His car is as neat as a pin—not a stray coffee cup, soda can, or fast-food wrapper in sight. The cup holder in the center console holds some loose change, but otherwise, it’s in incredible condition.

We bump elbows on the shared armrest as we get situated and it hits me that this is how it all began. When we first saw each our arms touched. That’s it. It morphed into this crazy Snapchat universe of people wanting us to get together. The insecurities I’ve grappled with tonight come barreling back to me. Am I getting my hopes up for nothing?

Tanner starts to put the key in the ignition but hesitates. He does this endearing half sigh, half laugh thing. “This is nuts, right?”

Oh, thank goodness I’m not alone in thinking that.

“Bonkers,” I say with a head shake.

“I mean. What if—”

My heart kicks up a notch. I’m crazy. This is crazy. I reach out and put one hand on the back of his neck, the other on his forearm. He falls silent. I lean in, but I don’t get anywhere close to kissing those lips and that lopsided smiles.

We lock eyes, and I mumble, “Get out your phone. Open Snapchat.”

With one quick motion, his phone is out and opens the app.

I nod. “Ready when you are.”

“What are you going to say?”

“The truth.”

He starts recording, and right on cue, we both smile to the camera. I can’t help myself.

I laugh and shrug at the same time. “Look who I found?”

On the screen, I see him turn to look at me, not seeming to care that everyone at Milton will be watching this. He grabs one of the tassels from my sister’s hat and brushes it against my cheek. I turn to face him, and with that same tassel, he lightly swipes it across my nose before giving me a tiny boop. That sweet little gesture sends at least a million goosebumps all over my skin.

He leans in, shrinking the space between us. My heart speeds up as his tongue darts out just a tiny bit, wetting his bottom lip. When he raises his eyebrow, just a smidge, I give a tiny nod of approval. Gently, he presses his lips to mine. We linger there for a second before he pulls back, just enough to be able to look from my lips to my eyes.

With a wink, he whispers, “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

About the Author

KD Proctor loved college so much that when it came time to graduate, she didn’t want to leave. Trading in her textbooks for student handbooks and policy manuals, she began a career in College Student Personnel and she fulfilled her wish to stay on a college campus forever. Working on a college campus gives her lots of book ideas—and her mother is just happy she’s finally using that English degree.

KD is a multi-award winning author and lives in West Central, Minnesota with her husband and fur-kids. Her characters are smart, funny, and a little quirky. And yes. They always get their happily ever after.

Visit KD Proctor at her website.

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BAPTISMS & BABIES?

A GRIEVANCES & GLITTER SECOND EPILOGUE

KELLY MAHER

TINA WALKED AROUND THE BACKYARD, rocking the baby in her arms. Only a month old, he was ready and willing to scream at the top of his lungs if the rhythm didn’t meet his exacting standards. She paused to let the stream of children race past her.

Little Patrick did not appreciate the stoppage time and began to yell. “Tell that to your Uncle Jericho, buddy.” In fact, it was time for Jericho to take over godparent duty with the little man.

She headed for the house, stopping a few more times to let the under-tens continue their races. When she got to the patio, a few of the aunts saw her and grinned. Not wanting to get caught up in a conversation she refused to have with them again, she kept moving.

“Tina, where are you going?” Aunt Julie started to push up from the lounger.

“Sorry, he needs a change.”

Julie immediately plopped back down.

“Bring him back when you’re done. We need some cuddle time.”

“Um-hmm.”

Once inside, she headed for the game room. Since Jericho had joined the family, it had become an unwritten rule that there must be a Guitar Hero tournament at every gathering. The only rules were that Jericho couldn’t pick any Tinseland song or any that he had written.

He’d argued against the latter since it wasn’t a guarantee that the game had programmed the version he’d written, but everyone had stood firm. Especially Tina. Even with some very creative bribing of the judge on his part.

Shouts emanated from the game room. When she walked in, she spotted Jericho in his usual place in the Player 1 position, but it was Mikayla, Laurie, and Larry’s three-year-old in the Player 2 position.

And, if the screen was to be believed, Mikayla was beating Jericho’s top score. With a Tinseland song. When the song ended with Mikayla as the winner, she jumped up and down with all the cousins and uncles who were watching.

Jericho grabbed her controller right before she bopped herself in the head with it, then lifted her up onto his shoulder.

“High five, Mik!”

She nearly toppled over as she slapped his one hand with both of hers. Jericho laughed but walked her around the room as the winner. Once the victory lap was over, he set her down and handed her the Player 1 controller.

Johnny, her oldest brother’s thirteen-year-old, picked up the Player 1 controller.

Jericho caught her eye and grinned. He walked over to where she stood rocking Patrick, and she shivered. Watching him move was one of her favorite activities. He didn’t do it on stage as much as Benny or Rob, the lead guitarist, but he had his own moves.

He leaned in and kissed her until a couple of her uncles whistled. He broke the kiss and winked at her, then bent and kissed Patrick’s skull.

“How’s the little man doing?”

“He’s fussy and wants his Uncle Jericho to rock him.”

“That’s because he knows I’ve got all the rhythm.”

“You do, indeed.” She passed Patrick over to Jericho. Once the baby was safely ensconced in his arms, she stepped back.

When Mikayla had been born, she’d come back from London for two weeks. But she hadn’t been able to spend much time with her niece as she would have liked until the last couple months, when she’d quit her job and returned to the States full time.

With Jericho’s income from Tinseland, and his contract work for creating and refining algorithms, she didn’t have to work. But she was in the process of setting up a boutique consulting firm because while she didn’t have to work, she loved doing meaningful work.

She glanced over to Jericho and realized that Patrick had fallen asleep. “Stay away from the aunts.”

“What?”

She went up on her toes, and he bent down so that her lips were near his ear. “I said, stay away from the aunts. I don’t want any of them asking when I’m going to make you a daddy since you’re obviously a natural.”

“Yeah, that’s a no.”

She kissed his cheek. “I love you.”

He kissed her back. “Love you, too. Let’s get this guy somewhere quiet.”

In a house filled with Hallorans and Fitzgeralds celebrating Patrick’s baptism, finding a quiet space was hard, but they eventually got him up to the nursery.

Laurie rushed in behind them. “Oh, thank God. I wondered who had him. It’s time for his nap. Tina, you said you would make the chicken salad.”

“Already done and in the fridge, Laurie.”

“What about the cupcakes? I’ve got my hands full with two kids.”

Biting her tongue, Tina patted Laurie’s shoulder. “I’ve got you. Don’t worry.”

Jericho passed over Patrick and rubbed the baby’s back as Laurie took him over to the rocker in the corner of the room. They closed the door behind them and headed back to the kitchen.

Jericho paused while they were still on the stairs and looked at her. “You okay?”

“You mean other than the fact that my sister is yet again rubbing in the fact that she has two kids, and I don’t have any?”

He wrapped his arms around her. “You know I support whatever you want to do, right?”

She let out a breath. “Yeah. I do.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and just sank into the feeling of being surrounded by him. Since that Christmas day he’d shown up at her parents’ door, still bandaged up and arm in a cast thanks to that wannabe killer deer, he’d stood as a bulwark for her against the world and her family, whenever she needed it. He almost always knew what she needed before she did.

“How much time left until we can leave?”

Tina laughed and lifted her wrist so she could check the diamond-encrusted watch he’d given her for Christmas last year. “At least a couple hours. We still haven’t opened the gifts yet.”

He groaned. “We don’t have to wait for Patrick to wake up, do we? Little man has no clue what’s going on beyond if he’s being adequately fed, changed, or rocked.”

“Tina.” Her mom’s voice echoed down the hall from the kitchen.

Jericho squeezed her before letting her go.

“Coming, Mom.” She tugged on Jericho’s hand, and he stopped. “I’ll be good. Go play with the kids.”

He laughed. “I’ll head for the backyard. Those kids aren’t as competitive as Mikayla.”

She frowned. “You let her win, right?”

He laughed again and shook his head. “I didn’t have to do much. She’s a natural at the game. I need to ask Larry if they’re planning on getting her into instrument lessons.”

Tina shook her head. “Like mother, like daughter.”

“Looks like.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Come get me if you want to leave before the gifts.”

“I’m good. You’re here.”

“Always, babe.”

She watched him walk away before heading into the kitchen to help her mom out. They got the dessert platters set up, along with refilling some of the other food platters. Laurie came in at one point and fluttered around before heading back out.

When it was just the two of them in the kitchen, her mom came over and slung an arm around her shoulders. “You know I’m proud of you, Tina, right?”

She leaned her head down on her mom’s shoulder. “I know, Mom.”

“And you know that all I and your dad and I want for you is that you’re happy, right?”

“Yeah, Mom. I know.”

“We’re really glad you found Jericho, but we don’t want you to feel pressured to have kids or anything. Not from us. Want me to speak to the aunts and Laurie?”

She hadn’t said anything at all to her mom about the aunts’ or Laurie’s needling, and she had to swallow the feelings that wanted to fountain up. “We’re good, Mom. I can handle it.”

Her mom squeezed her. “Honey, being able to handle it doesn’t mean you have to handle it. Whatever your decision is about having kids is yours alone. You shouldn’t have anyone questioning you about it.”

She turned in her mom’s embrace and hugged her hard. It meant the world to her that even though they had never discussed this, her mom made it clear that she supported her.

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Tina, stop hugging Mom. It’s time for gifts. I wish I hadn’t needed to put Patrick down for a nap, but Larry’s parents need to head out, and they have to see everything.”

Laurie headed back out of the kitchen, and her mom sighed. “I need to have a talk with that girl one of these days.”

Her laugh, when it came, was a bit watery. “Just remember, you were the one who raised her.”

“Says a whole lot about my parenting skills.” Her mom was shaking her head as she released her.

Tina smiled. “Hey. You raised me and the boys perfectly fine. Laurie just happens to be the hyper-competitive baby of the family.”

“It doesn’t give her the excuse of acting the way she does.”

They carried the dessert platters out to the dining room where the rest of the food had been stationed. Her dad cleared a space for them, and then pounced on the cupcakes as soon as her mom set them down.

“Ryan!”

He just grinned around the cupcake as he took a bite.

“Mom. Dad. Come sit next to us. We’re going to open presents. Tina, can you be the list maker? I don’t want to miss anything.”

Tina held back a sigh as one of her cousins handed her the paper pad and pen she’d been prepared to use. “Sure thing.”

She made note of every card and gift. From the handknit baby blanket, to the checks, to the rosaries, and special intention candles. She wasn’t sure what Patrick was supposed to do with intention candles as a baby, but maybe he’d grow up with a pyro streak. Her brother Kevin certainly had one.

“Oh, Tina, thank you so much. You shouldn’t have.” Laurie held up a wooden toy set of Noah’s Ark and the animals. Jericho had been the one to spot it in a specialty shop while on tour and had it shipped home. “And a check, too!”

Tina made the appropriate noises as she noted down their gifts. She and Jericho didn’t make a point to spoil the kids too much because it wouldn’t be good for them, but she also knew that Laurie kept track of the gifts.

As soon as all the gifts had been opened and the list of who had given what was turned over, Tina made her and Jericho’s excuses, and they headed out. Mikayla didn’t let them leave until Uncle Jericho promised to come back and help her practice, so she could beat him even bigger the next time.

Jericho lifted her into the passenger seat of his SUV and closed the door. She looked out the window and waved to her mother.

As he turned off Laurie and Larry’s road, he reached over and clasped her hand.

She let out a breath and gave voice to the thoughts swirling in her mind. “I need to say something.”

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “I’m listening.”

“I want to get my tubes tied.”

He glanced over at her. Then let out a breath. “Okay.”

She shifted in her seat and cradled his hand between both of hers. “You’re good with this?”

“Honey, I told you earlier, I’m good with whatever you decide. It’s your body.”

“I know. Neither of us have been particularly keen about having kids of our own. And with starting up the new practice, I don’t want any accidents happening.”

“All good reasons. Do you know when you want it done?”

“No. I’ve done some research about the procedures, but I haven’t decided on anything.”

He pressed on the brakes for a red light and squeezed her hand. “As soon as you figure out what you want done, let me know, and I’ll get it on my calendar.”

ONE MONTH LATER

TINA WENT OUT onto the secluded patio of Jericho’s apartment. He’d left an hour ago to spend the day in the studio with the rest of the members of Tinseland. They were working on their second album since reuniting, and she didn’t want to worry him with this.

Some things, you just needed your best friend for.

She pulled up Viv’s contact info and called her.

The call rang a couple times before Viv picked up. “Hey, bestie. What’s going on?”

“I need help, Viv.”

“What’s wrong?”

Tina sighed and began pacing. The patio wasn’t that big, but she needed to be outside and didn’t feel like having this conversation out on the streets of Manhattan, even if people mostly ignored you. “I want to get my tubes tied.”

“Whoa. Didn’t you tell me Jericho got snipped last year?”

“He did. But I don’t want any accidents. Not even vasectomies are a hundred percent effective.”

“Okay. You want to get your tubes tied. What’s the problem?”

“The problem is finding a doctor who will make an appointment with me by myself. As soon as they find out I’m married, they insist that Jericho accompanies me. What the fuck, Viv?”

Viv let out a long sigh. “Give me a second, will you?”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to be in front of coworkers while we have this conversation.”

Tina winced. In her fury, she’d completely forgotten that Viv would likely be in the office. The fact that she even answered was a testament both to her work being at a lull point and their friendship.

She waited, listening as Viv moved through her office, and then hearing the loud click of a door. “There. All private. I’m sorry, Tina. If I’d known you were looking to do this, I would have given you the name of a doctor I know before now.”

As far as Tina knew, Viv hadn’t decided against having kids even though they were now in their forties, so had never considered calling her best friend before this. “How do you know them?”

“You’re not the first of my friends who’s called me with this issue. After my cousin was venting to me at a family party a couple years ago when the doctor wouldn’t take care of her after the birth of her third kid, you know, in case her husband wanted to try for a boy…”

Tina groaned. “The fuck?”

“Exactly. I did some research for Helena, and found this gender-inclusive doctor, who had really great reviews. The thing is, you’ll likely have to pay up front as getting insurance to cover the procedures can be a pain in the ass and then some.”

Tina rubbed her forehead. Even if Jericho and his money weren’t in the picture, she did well enough to pay for a procedure like this. Likely.

“What kind of money are we talking about?”

“It depends on which procedure you want to have done. I’ll send you the information and have Helena contact the doctor’s office to let them know you’ll be calling.”

“I need a referral?”

“Yeah. Once word started getting around that they’re not assholes, it got really hard to get an appointment with them.”

“How many people have you and Helena referred to them?”

“Let’s just say a lot.”

TWO MONTHS LATER, Tina walked out onto sidewalk in front of an unassuming brownstone on Manhattan’s Upper East Side. Technically, she and Jericho didn’t live that far away, only on the other side of Central Park and up a couple blocks, but she felt worlds away from home.

She opened her purse again to make sure the instructions she’d been given were still nestled in the pocket where she’d stuck them. She was scheduled for surgery in a month. She hadn’t expected it to take this long to get an appointment with a doctor, let alone a date for surgery, but reality slapped her in the face.

She was crossing the street to enter the park when her phone rang. Fishing it out of her pocket, she checked to make sure there was no oncoming traffic or cops around before she crossed against the light.

Checking the screen, she saw it was Jericho. She answered. “Hey, babe. What’s going on?”

“How was the appointment?” His deep voice was soothing in a way she hadn’t realized she needed at that moment.

What would be even better was if he was here in person and hugging her. “Good. I’ve got a date for my surgery.”

“When?”

She gave him the date and he hummed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m just checking my calendar to make sure no one’s booked me for anything.”

“Damn it. I’m sorry. I didn’t even think to check with you. It was the only date they had available in the next three months.”

“It’s all good. I’ve got one thing on my calendar, but I’ll deal with it. You’re more important.”

Emotions choked her. She needed him right now. “Where are you?”

“In the studio. Get a cab and come down. We’ll go out for lunch. Or go home. Whatever you need.”

She raised a hand to hail one of the cabs that were streaming down Fifth Avenue. “Just you.”

Tina spent the rest of the day with Jericho and Tinseland in the studio. She’d spent the day with them before, and she wasn’t the only spouse who was there. Benny’s wife, Sondra, was also there with their youngest, who wasn’t even a year old. The little one wore the cutest pair of earmuffs with koala stickers on the casing.

When the band was finished for the day, they streamed out of the booth. Jericho grinned at her and bent down to smack a kiss on her mouth. “How are you doing?”

“Great.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Let’s get out of here.”

“I thought we were going out for drinks, man?” Benny picked up his youngest and gave them a hug.

Jericho laughed. “I’ve got to get my beautiful wife home. How about tomorrow?”

The band made plans to do drinks the next night and an all-family get together over the weekend depending on some of the kids’ sports schedules.

They walked out into a still muggy evening, though it was cooling down a little as the sun set.

Jericho pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Do you want to do dinner out or delivery?”

“Delivery. I don’t feel like being in public tonight.”

“Fair.” He raised a hand to hail a cab. At this time of night, they had to wait a bit before an empty one pulled over to the curb. Jericho gave their address, and they settled into the seat for the ride uptown.

“What do you want for dinner? Sushi? Thai? A burger?”

She lifted her chin and kissed his jaw. “A burger with the greasiest fries we can get.”

He kissed her back, slow and deep. Each kiss they shared wrapped another vine around her heart. “Bacon cheeseburger with greasy fries it is.”

He called in the order, and they spent the rest of the ride making out in the backseat of the taxi like teenagers. As they were getting out, the driver turned around in her seat. “Hey, man. When’s the next album coming out?”

Jericho shot his patented Moz grin at he. “Not sure yet. We’re working on it though.”

The driver winked at Tina. “Thanks for sharing him.”

Tina grinned back at the cheerful statement. “I couldn’t hold him back. Have a good night.”

Tina headed up to their apartment while Jericho waited in the lobby for their delivery. The weight of the day slid off her shoulders as she got changed into her comfiest clothes. From the fridge, she grabbed a bottle of Jericho’s favorite beer and a bottle of wine she’d picked up the other day.

By the time Jericho came in, arms laden down with multiple bags, she was resting against the sink, a glass of wine in hand. “What did you get?”

“They had some new appetizers on the menu, so I thought we could do a tasting.”

“Did you get my favorites?”

“Yep. Potato skins with cheese, bacon, and scallions with sour cream on the side. I also got beef bites with a homemade spicy sauce, crab pattie dumplings, and bacon-wrapped pear and fig cheese bombs.”

Tina was drooling by the time he finished reciting the selections he’d made. Every day they were together, he made a point of showing her love and care without calling any attention to it. “Get the air fryer out. We’ll stick the fries in there when we’re ready for them.”

Jericho put the burgers and fries into a warming oven, and they settled onto the couch to watch their favorite in-no-way edifying, but entertaining-as-hell shows. By the time they were three episodes into the secluded island of singles, Tina felt more relaxed than she had in the last couple months.

She curled deeper into Jericho’s embrace. “Thank you.”

He pressed a kiss onto her head. “I love you.”

That was all they needed to say. She lifted her face, and he bent down to kiss her. The appetizers and mind-candy TV were soon forgotten as Jericho stripped her pants and underwear from her.

She threaded her fingers through his hair. “Jericho.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Make the world go away.”

“Always.”

And he did, first with his mouth and hand, and then again with his dick. She arched up when he coaxed a third orgasm from her.

He kept stroking into her, his mouth near her ear. “Come on, baby. I know you can fly again for me.”

She squeezed down with her inner muscles at the words, and he grunted. The best thing about him being a bit older is that he could last longer. And he made it his mission to give her all the orgasms he could. Raking her nails down his back to his ass, she squeezed the very firm globe. “Give it to me.”

He growled and tilted her hips up. The change in angle had her cresting again. “Jericho. Now.”

He bit down on her shoulder as he jerked inside her. Another shudder of pleasure rippled through her body.

As their bodies began cooling down, she had the thought that they were going to need to get a new couch soon as this one had seen its fair share of workouts of the adult variety.

She was tempted to close her eyes for a bit but knew that she needed to take care of business. After Jericho disengaged, she headed into their master bathroom and cleaned up.

When she was refreshed, she headed back into the kitchen. Jericho was still in their second bathroom, so she pulled the burgers and fries from the oven.

The cheese on her burger was a melty mess but smelled delicious. The fries were warm, but they were best hot, so she tossed them into the air fryer for five minutes.

Jericho came back in and wrapped his arms around her from behind, nuzzling her neck. “You smell delicious.”

She laughed. “I bet I smell like bacon and cheese.”

“Um-hmm.” He nipped the tendon that ran down her throat and reached for his burger. “Like I said, delicious.”

She turned her head and pecked a kiss against his beard-rough cheek. “The fries will be ready soon.”

“Do we have any of that dipping sauce left?”

“In the fridge.”

He grabbed what he was looking for and headed back to the living room. When the air fryer was done, she poured the fries onto another plate and went to join him.

She settled down next to him again.

He put an arm around her shoulders. “You okay with everything?”

She let out a deep sigh. “Yeah. The doctor was really kind and confident. We talked about everything I was worried about, and she didn’t discount my worries.”

“The recovery period?”

“I decided to go with the laparoscopic method. Provided I don’t have any complications, I should be fully recovered in about three weeks.”

“Do you want me to be there, or do you want Viv?”

“You, please.”

He kissed her. “Done. I’m glad you were able to find someone you’re comfortable with for the procedure.” He grinned at her. “And when you’re all healed, we can have all the wicked, sexy times.”

She laughed. He always knew exactly what she needed.

Loved Tina and Jericho? Check out their origin story, Grievances & Glitter.

About the Author

Kelly Maher has been publishing romance in a variety of subgenres for 16 years. She is moving to a new pen name and expects to release her first novel under that name in 2023. You can find Kelly online at https://www.kellymaher.com.

RIDE IT, DARLIN’

A RYKER RANCH SHORT

KIM LORAINE

TRISTAN

WHERE THE FUCK was my wife? I walked through the house, calling her name, anxiety climbing up my throat at the answering silence. She was supposed to be here.

“Hazel? Where are you, darlin’?”

But there was no answer. No clue of where she could be. My girl was independent; she always had been. But she let me know if she was gonna be gone. It wasn’t like her to miss one of our date nights. With two small kids underfoot and a thriving nurse practitioner practice, not to mention how busy the ranch was, Hazel and I had to make time for each other if we wanted to see one another. My dad always said, date your wife, and I hadn’t understood him until now.

But how could I date her if she wasn’t where she was supposed to be?

I climbed the stairs, taking them two at a time before popping my head into each of the kids’ rooms, expecting to see her playing with one of them or reading a book, but they were gone too. When I went inside our bedroom, I found an envelope propped up on a pillow on our neatly made bed. Written in her tidy handwriting were the words to my cowboy.

“What are you up to, Mrs. Ryker?” I murmured, dragging a hand across my rough stubbled jaw.

Excitement replaced the anxiety coursing through me, and I snatched the envelope off the mattress, tearing it open and pulling out a note card.

Mama’s keeping the kids tonight. Meet me in the loft. I’ll be waiting, but to tide you over, here’s a sneak peek at what you’re going to find.

Behind the note card, I found a small Polaroid photo of my girl. She was lying on the bed with her head at the end. Hair splayed out, back arched, her beautiful eyes focused on the camera. A black lace … thing covered her curves, but just barely. Every part of my body stood up and took notice. I was ready for date night right the hell now, but I couldn’t storm over there like this. Not when I smelled like horses and sweat. I’d rather she get me sweaty later. So I stripped out of my dirty clothes, threw ‘em in the hamper—because a real man cleans up after himself, thank you very much—and jumped in the shower.

I scrubbed myself clean using the body wash I knew she loved, washed my shoulder-length hair, and shaved my jaw clean. I’d taken to growing out a beard over the past few years, but I knew how much my woman loved to run her tongue along that cut jawline my dad passed on to all his sons. She always said it was a waste to hide it under my golden blond stubble. But I wouldn’t dare touch my long hair. Hazel liked tugging on it too much.

“Settle down, boy. You’ll get her soon enough,” I said, glancing down at my semi-hard cock. Just the thought of my wife running her fingers through my hair was enough to give me a hard-on. She might be a witch.

After getting dressed and giving my hair a rough towel dry, I snagged us a couple of beers and made my way to the loft. It was a new addition, and one I fucking loved. After a catastrophic tornado hit the ranch, we’d used the opportunity during the rebuild to add on and take care of some things we needed. One of those was building a small barn that wasn’t used for livestock, but as a gathering place. We rent it out for events of all kinds. It also had a loft space we decorated with hanging lights and comfy couches, and from time to time, we used it for our own purposes. Just like tonight.

I knew she was there the moment I heard soft music coming through the open door. I couldn’t fucking wait to see her.

“Darlin’,” I called as I walked in, but I didn’t see her.

“I’m up here, cowboy.”

Her voice floated down to me, making me sigh in relief and happiness. The night I met her was the night my life changed forever, but she hadn’t understood just how special she’d been to me. The moment we looked into each other’s eyes for the first time, I knew she was the one. I’ve spent every day since trying to prove exactly what she means to me. I’d never stop trying to make sure she knew.

I ascended the stairs, the rustic setting reminding me of the small cabin she’d stayed at when she and her sister had come to the ranch to find me.

“What are you doing up here?” I asked.

She sat on a soft fluffy rug, a red sundress covering her lush body. Fuck, I loved her in red.

“I thought we needed a movie night. I see you got my note.”

“Yeah, I got your note. Who took that picture, by the way? It better have been one of the girls.”

“I took it myself, caveman. Settle down.”

“How’d you do that?”

“Well, there’s this thing called a timer. I used it.”

“Well done, baby. You look so fuckin’ pretty.”

“I’m surprised it took you this long to get here.”

I chuckled. “If you were gonna look that good for me, I wanted to look good for you.”

She got to her feet and strolled across the space, stopping when she was right in front of me. With a gentle hand, she reached up and slid her fingers across my freshly shaven jaw.

“I like it smooth.”

Shivers raced down my spine. “I know you do.”

“I like scruffy too.”

I laughed. “Yeah.”

“I hope you don’t mind that I took the lead tonight. I just thought we needed something different.”

“I don’t mind. I just want to be with you. We could be sitting on the porch watching the sun go down, being with each other, and I’d be happy.”

A bashful smile twitched her lips, cheeks going pink as she lowered her gaze. “Is one of those for me?” she asked, reaching for my hands, which still held the beers.

“Yeah, I didn’t know if I should bring anything or …”

“I have a couple of cold ones in a cooler, but we can have these first. And we’ve got a picnic waiting for us.”

I slipped my now free hand around her waist and tugged her close to me. “Is it on ice?”

“Why?”

“I just need to know if I’m allowed to distract you or not. Don’t want our food going to waste, darlin’.”

“Distract away, cowboy.”

I tipped my head and kissed her, the brim of my cowboy hat pushing up as it touched her forehead. She reached up and took my hat off, and I very nearly scolded her for the bad luck that came along with doing that. But then she parted her lips and let my tongue dance with hers, and I forgot all about anything superstitious. I just wanted her. If she was in my arms, bad luck couldn’t touch me.

We kissed in the quiet, with the soft strains of some singer-songwriter in the periphery. My entire world was right here in my arms. The life we’d built together all came together in this moment.

We finally broke apart, her eyes shining, lips swollen. I pressed my forehead to hers and stared into her eyes.

“I love you.”

She smiled. “Love you too. Now, we’ve got all night. Are you ready?”

“That depends on what we’re doing.”

She pointed to the white sheet that was hung up along the wall. “Movie, remember?”

“Which one?”

“I thought we might go with a classic.”

“Oh yeah?”

“One of my favorite cowboy movies.”

“And which one is that?”

She chuckled. “You’ll see.”

As we settled on the soft rug, snuggling into each other in the pile of pillows and blankets, she dimmed the lights with the remote and then took a moment to turn on the projector we’d installed in the ceiling. When the credits for Blazing Saddles began to roll, I laughed out loud.

“God, my dad loved this movie. We watched it all the time.”

She beamed. “I know. Your brothers told me.”

We sat together, her cheek resting on my chest, me stroking her hair, and we watched the movie until the very last name was listed on the credits. Until our picnic was nothing but crumbs and all we had left was each other.

“How was your day at the clinic, darlin’?” I asked softly, running my fingers up and down the soft skin of her upper arm.

“Eventful.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yup. Broken arm, sprained ankle, a concussion, and an unexpected positive pregnancy test.”

“All one person?”

“Two. But I can’t tell you who or why.”

A laugh rumbled from deep in my chest. “I know, I know. Privacy laws.”

“Let’s just say this pair is going to need all the help the town can give them if they decide to go through with the pregnancy.”

“You think they won’t?”

“I think she’s got all her options before her, and she should be able to choose for herself.”

I raised my beer bottle and clinked the neck with hers. “Fuck right, she should. And once you can tell me—if you ever can—you’d better believe we’ll all be there to support her.”

“God, I love you. You’re so much more than a pretty boy dreamboat.”

I waggled my eyebrows at her.

“Am I allowed to open my present now?”

“Present?” she asked, eyes going wide. “I didn’t get you a present. We aren’t doing presents on date night now, are we?”

“Oh, darlin’, that’s where you’re wrong. You’re definitely my present.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. Course you are. I want to see you in that sexy little lace number you teased me with. I think I deserve an award for waiting so long.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah, I do. Especially”—I reached behind her and untied the thin strap that held the halter on her dress—“when I know all it takes is one little tug to open it.”

The straps fell down, baring her full, round tits covered in sheer black lace.

“When did you get this?” I asked, my voice hoarse. It was fucking sexy.

“A couple of weeks ago. I’ve been dying to show it to you.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t show it to me sooner.”

“Things have been busy. We’ve been busy.”

“I’m never too busy for you, baby. Now stand up for me, darlin’. Let me look at you.”

She got to her feet as I asked. The red dress caught on her full hips as it fell, so I tugged it down until it pooled at her feet and she was standing there clad in nothing but her little corset and panties.

“Damn. You know, I think I’m glad you didn’t tell me about this. It would have been torture waiting to see you in it before getting to take it off you.”

“Now you know how I feel every time you put on a pair of Wranglers.”

I smirked. “I give you plenty of naked cowboy shows.”

“That’s true. My favorite is the shower show.”

“Oh yeah? You like that one?”

“Yeah, I do. I like it when you stroke your cock under the water while I watch.”

I had to clench my jaw to keep from tearing the lace off her there and then. Instead, I got up on my knees and gripped her full ass in my hands.

“Come here.” My mouth landed on her inner thigh. Soft kisses at first. Then grazes of my teeth as she moaned under my attention. I nestled my face between her thighs, inhaling her perfume, groaning like a starving man being shown his favorite meal but not being allowed to touch.

“Tristan,” she whimpered.

“That’s right, darlin’.”

I pulled her panties to the side and kissed her right there where she was wet and warm and soft, then I backed away, lying down on the pillow. I tilted my chin up as I waited.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting ready so you can sit on my face until you come. That’s what I’m doing.”

She bit her lower lip, then shimmied down the panties and did as I asked, her moans of pleasure filling the loft as she rode out her release. Grinding against my mouth, pussy still fluttering, breaths still coming in soft, ragged pants, she stood, then dropped to her knees between my thighs and worked my pants open. Her mouth engulfed me, making my toes curl and sending a harsh bark of pleasure through me, but I didn’t want this to be over before I could get inside her. I gently took her face in my hands and pulled her off me.

“No, darlin’. I want you riding me while I watch you in that sexy lingerie.” She sank down on my straining dick, and I thought I might meet my maker when I came. At least I’d die with a smile on my face. “I’m gonna remember this for the rest of my fucking life,” I bit out. The rest of my words were mostly incoherent murmurs until I finally found my release and the two of us fell back into the pile of blankets and pillows she’d laid out for us.

“God, I can’t believe I married you. So fucking lucky.” My voice was a rasp I barely recognized.

She giggled in response. “Well, that’s true. You were the best one-night stand I ever had.”

I growled. “Damn right.”

Her soft sigh had me wrapping my arms tight around her and pressing a kiss to her head.

“I love you, Tristan.”

Contentment radiated from my chest at the sweet words. This was it. Everything I ever wanted, and I had it here in my arms. I was never letting her go. “I love you too, darlin’. Forever.”

Head to Ryker Ranch to read the rest of the Ryker boys’ stories

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About the Author

Kim writes steamy contemporary and sexy paranormal romance. You’ll find her paranormal romances written under the name K. Loraine and her contemporaries as Kim Loraine. Don’t worry, you’ll get the same level of swoon-worthy heroes, sassy heroines, and an eventual HEA.

When not writing, she’s busy herding cats (raising kids), trying to keep her house sort of clean, and dreaming up ways for fictional couples to meet.

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SECOND CHANCE HEX

WITCHES OF WILLISTOWN

KYM GROSSO

CHAPTER ONE

ZARI SMILED. The once weathered beach cottage had been modernized with white siding and mirrored windows. The palm leaves needed to be trimmed back, their seeds dusted the front porch steps of her aunt’s home. As she approached, she took notice of a newly added rooftop deck that offered a perfect view of the ocean. A warm feeling settled around her as she stepped onto the veranda. Home.

Willistown. The small beach village had once been magical. Tales of the Willistown witches had been rumored for over a century. At Halloween, children dressed up as high priestess, Sadie Willis. Both a healer and leader, she’d welcomed all to her town. She’d gifted the town with prosperity, a spring overflowing in the otherwise desert coast.

It was alleged she could turn rattlesnakes into cats with only a few words. When a group of armed bandits attempted to kidnap her, they’d simply disappeared overnight. Townsfolk said from that day forward, no one ever spoke a mean word again. She encouraged her citizens to embrace nature, both land and sea, to thank the Goddess for the bounty of the Earth.

Present day Willistown, however, was simply a southern California beach town, filled with tourists during the summer, both families and retirees. When her mom died ten years ago, Zari lost herself in grief. She no longer found happiness living in the quaint coastal community.

In dire need of change, Zari applied for med school in Washington. The rain suited her damp mood, and she hoped with the vast greenery, others wouldn’t notice the occasional dead leaf or sprouting tree. Immersing herself in her studies, she learned to focus her thoughts. Over time, as the sorrow eased, she pretended the coincidences her aunt called magic didn’t exist.

“Zari.” Her aunt’s voice shook her contemplation, but the memories lingered. Would she be able to control the magic? “Oh my goodness. It’s so good to have you home.”

“Aunt Deb!” Zari hugged her aunt and pushed her worries to the back of her mind.

“It’s so good to see you.” Her aunt released her tight embrace and looked her over from head to toe. “You look beautiful. How do you feel?”

“I feel great. I’m good,” Zari hedged. She’d given her notice to her practice and wouldn’t be returning.

“Hmm…great, huh?” Aunt Deb gave a disbelieving smile and shrugged.

She knows I’m lying. Change the subject. “So how’s the garden?”

“It’s overflowing with zucchini this year. Wait until you see it.” She looked at Zari’s shiny luggage sporting bright red strawberries. “I’ve got some of those too.”

Zari smiled, the warmth of family and home hitting her like a wave of comfort as she stepped into the foyer. The beach-themed décor set the tone for anyone questioning where they were. Pictures of her mom and dad hung on the walls, reminding her of better times.

She set her suitcase down in the living room and followed her aunt to the kitchen. Her stomach growled in response to the delicious scent that filled the home.

“How long are you in town?” Aunt Deb asked casually as she made quick work of setting lunch onto the table.

“A while…I’m thinking of maybe starting a practice here.”

“In Willistown?” Aunt Deb’s eyes widened. “Now don’t play with me. Oh my gosh. This is too exciting. I knew you’d come home.”

“It’s just the weather in Washington—”

“I thought you liked the rain.”

“It was okay. I guess at the time…I don’t know. After I did my residency, it made sense to stay. But now…” She sighed. “I don’t think my current practice in Washington is a great fit for me.”

Aunt Deb looked at the table and offered her a plate. “I’ve made all things zucchini for lunch today. Zucchini bread. Zucchini salad. Zucchini pancakes. Hope you’re hungry.”

Zari smiled, her eyes lit with amusement at all the dishes on the table. She sat down without her aunt asking. I’m home.

At the first bite of bread, Zari’s soul sang with joy. “Hmm…this is so good.”

“When you’re ready, you know you can tell me what happened,” Aunt Deb continued.

“I quit my job,” Zari blurted out with a half-smile. “It just wasn’t doing it for me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but if you’re not happy, it’s time for a change. You know, the flowers never lie.”

Zari grimaced. She didn’t like to acknowledge ‘her curse’, let alone talk about it.

“When you’re ready to accept who you are and what you are, the magic will flourish in all parts of your life. Your medical practice, your flowers…love, perhaps,” she said with a knowing lilt to her voice. “You know it’s waiting for you. I see it in the cards.”

“Love?” She laughed. Her love life was more dead than the dried-out flowers she’d left at her apartment. “I think you might need to get a new tarot deck.”

“You know Quinn McKenna is back in Willistown,” her aunt said with a coy smile.

Quinn. Zari’s stomach tightened at the sound of his name. He’d been her first and only high school love. Soon after she’d left for Washington, she’d made the logical decision to end things. Med school and residency was a sleep-deprived life that left little room for a relationship. Quinn, in the Navy, often worked overseas in classified military operations and could rarely visit her.

With barely time for even a conversation, fate intervened. One late night, a woman had answered his cell phone, claiming to be his girlfriend. The goodbye text Zari sent had shattered her heart. Quinn never chased her to reconcile, and she let it be. Sometimes you had to cut off the leaves to save the plant.

Zari sighed and looked to her aunt. “We broke things off a long time ago. I haven’t spoken to him in years. I would have thought he would be stationed down in San Diego or maybe Virginia Beach.”

“Nope. He’s back home.”

“You don’t say.”

“That’s right. He’s been back for a year now. He has a construction company. I saw him last week. He’s helping me with the rooftop deck. Did you see it from the outside? I’ll take you up there once you get settled.” Her aunt reached for a bowl and spooned salad onto her plate. “I didn’t see a ring on his finger.”

“I’m sure he’ll make someone very happy, but I’m not interested.” As the lie rolled off her tongue, she caught sight of red flickering lights dancing over her aunt’s pink curlers. What in the fresh hell kind of sparkler magic is this now? She glanced down to the last bit of bread she was about to stuff in her mouth, attempting to ignore it. “What’s in this bread? Are these cranberries? It tastes unusual…good but unusual.”

“Secret recipe,” she winked.

“Please tell me you didn’t put anything in here.” Her eyes narrowed in on her aunt. “Is there a love spell in this?”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about. You know I never dabble in love hocus pocus.”

“Yeah, sure.” Zari popped the bread into her mouth and looked to the heap of zucchini on the kitchen counter. Nearly fifty of them had been piled into a pyramid.

“Besides, you don’t need me for love spells. You know what’s brewing in you, baby.”

“There’s nothing brewing in me.” Zari didn’t want to talk about magic. If magic existed, her mom would still be alive.

“Yeah, yeah. I see that little sparkle in your aura. You know what I’m talking about.” Her aunt stood from the table and began placing the vegetables into a large woven basket.

Oh, she knew all right. Zari averted her gaze to her food, attempting to avoid the conversation. The ‘coincidences’ began shortly after her mom died. She couldn’t explain it with science, nothing in her studies helped her to understand it. At first, her plants had begun dying. Not just one plant, but wherever she went, leaves fell from the trees, petals shrunk until they floated to the ground. In the rare moments of joy, roses bloomed. Her aunt called it the birth of her magic, she called it a curse.

“Some day when you are ready, dear doctor. I’ll teach you our ways.” Aunt Deb looked up to her, catching her gaze. “You can’t ignore it forever.”

“I’m not ignoring it.” One hundred percent I am. “I just prefer to focus on what I can control. Besides, just because something happens doesn’t mean we made it happen. Associations aren’t causation. There are scientific explanations for everything.” Not always, a voice in the back of her mind reminded her.

“That’s not how the Goddess works,” her aunt told her. “But don’t worry. Now that you’re back, we have plenty of time for lessons.”

“Lessons?” Zari inwardly cringed. She’d come home to relax, and she wasn’t about to open the Pandora’s box that was magic. I don’t want to be a witch. I’m not a witch. “You know what, Auntie. How about we just talk about it later?”

“You know we will. Can’t hide it forever.”

“What can I do while I’m here?” She changed the subject. “I’d be happy to help you with the garden.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think you’d better stay out of the garden for a while. Your energy is still a little off, and I’m thinking until we start our lessons, I’d like to keep my tomatoes.” Aunt Deb laughed.

Zari bit her lip, knowing better than to argue with her aunt. “Okay, what can I do then? I want to help. I was going to run into town to see if I can talk to a realtor about setting up office space. Can I pick anything up for you?”

“No, but I could use help with this zucchini. I promised the library committee they could give it to the bakery downtown. They’re going make some zucchini bread for the Mermaid fair. It’s just a small fundraiser for the new library but every little bit helps.”

“You’ve got it. I’ll stop at the store and pick us up dinner for the weekend. I could make Mom’s meatballs,” Zari said, determined to do something useful. Between suppressing her magic and knowing that Quinn had returned and was working on her aunt’s deck, her stomach had begun to tie itself into a knot.

“Would love to have them but I promised Charlotte we’d meet her over at Casa de Magia for margaritas. They have the best burritos ever. And tomorrow is the festival, so maybe Sunday? Don’t forget,” she held up a finger, “tomorrow’s the full moon. We’re doing a circle with some of the folks in town before the music starts. Charging our moon water. Setting intentions. All the good stuff.”

“If moon water really worked on people, I think we’d be using it in medicine.” Zari didn’t quite believe in the very magic that flowed through her own veins.

“It’s magic, darlin’, not a miracle. That’s why the Goddess gifted us with doctors like you. Best of both worlds.”

“Ah, maybe.” She conceded for the sake of her aunt. “Well, I always did love the full moon over the ocean. And Lord knows I have a few intentions I’d like to speak to the universe.”

“That’s the spirit!” Aunt Deb lifted the basket and handed it off to her. “Keep your mind open, Zari. Sadie Willis may even join us tomorrow. You never know.”

“I think I do know but okay.” Zari laughed as she made her way out of the kitchen and to her car. She’d only been in town for two hours and already she’d gone from discussions of diagnosis and science to witchcraft and spells.

But the only magic on her mind was Quinn. It had been years since she’d seen him. Her heart pounded in her chest, the mere thought of him sent adrenaline zipping through her body. She recalled his wicked sense of humor which had always brought a smile to her face. Her thoughts turned to his kiss. His lips on every part of her body had shown her the only mystical experience she’d ever wanted.

She’d have to avoid him as much as possible. There’d be no other way to deal with the situation. Recalling how she’d ended the relationship, she didn’t want to open old wounds. It would crush her. No spell or magic would ever mend her heart.

FOR SO LONG Willistown had been her home and in a blink of an eye, her mom had died and then it wasn’t. Years later, the town appeared familiar but different all at once. Everywhere she looked she saw her mom, but no longer would she hear her voice, feel her comforting arms around her. Sadness loomed but she fought it, refusing to let the grief win.

Zari shook off her sadness as she drove her convertible along the coast. As always, the sight of the spectacular Pacific Ocean took her breath away, the sound of the waves calming her soul. Sea air rushed into her lungs and she blew out a cleansing breath. Peace flowed through her. I made the right decision to come home.

She drove a few more miles until the road morphed into the main street. She parked and stole quick glance at the heaping pile of zucchini in the passenger seat. Zari got out of the car and gave a grunt as she lifted the heavy load and kicked the door shut with her foot. As she spun around, a car horn beeped and snapped her attention to the cars passing, warning her to traffic. She crossed the street and made her way down the sidewalk. A small strip of stores on both sides of the road served the fast-growing community.

Busy tourists buzzed like bees in and out of the stores. Live music drifted in the air from a bar down the far end of the block. While she inwardly wished that their secret, small town beach community could stay small, she recognized the attraction to new families. Just like people, growth was inevitable.

Zari smiled as she looked up to the sign. Bewitching Bakery. Some things never changed…there was no escaping the magic in Willistown.

A sympathetic patron seeing her predicament held the door open so she could enter the bakery. An impending sense of anticipation washed over her as she stepped inside the shop, the scent of fresh baked cookies teasing her nose. Even though she’d just eaten, a craving for cookies stirred in her stomach.

As she peered through the pyramid of zucchini stacked high, she navigated her way toward the counter. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied a large potted palm with pink flamingo lights wrapped around its trunk. Something about its bobbing head struck her as funny, and instantly, her magic seeped through, causing a new leaf to instantly sprout.

Anxiety caught in her chest at the sight. Hoping no one noticed, she quickly reined in her emotion, but as she took another step, she lost her balance. The basket smacked onto the counter and sent the perfectly balanced zucchinis falling in all directions onto the floor.

“Oh my God.” Embarrassed, Zari inwardly cursed, her cheeks flamed with heat. She knelt and frantically picked up the veggies, gathering them one by one into her arms.

“No worries. Let me help you.”

“I’m so sorry.” Zari glanced up to a familiar face. “Isabella? Crest High School?”

Isabella Martínez. Homecoming queen, most likely to succeed and salutatorian. They’d been friendly competitors, but Zari had edged her out as valedictorian. She’d been the most beautiful girl in school, both inside and out, but they’d lost touch after they’d both gone to college.

“It’s me all right. It’s been forever and a day. How have you been?” Isabella knelt next to her.

“Oh my gosh. It’s great to see you…perhaps not this way.” Zari glanced to a zucchini that had rolled into the corner. She leaned over, snatched it up and held it up into the air. “God, I’m such a mess today. Got it!”

“Oh honey, we all are. That mercury retrograde hit hard this cycle but we’ll be back this weekend. Full moon.” Isabella made quick work of stacking the veggies back into the basket. “This weekend should be a good one for our fundraiser, though. I can feel it.”

“How are you?” Zari took notice of the pentagram hanging around Isabella’s neck, but quickly averted her gaze.

“I’m great…busy, as always.”

“Sorry about the mess. I’m supposed to drop these off to the baker. Charlotte.” Zari gestured to the basket.

“Oh, no. They’re for me.” She laughed. “Charlotte sold me the business four years ago. She said she was going to retire but she got bored after a month and opened Conjuring Candles.”

“Wow. Really? Congratulations. It’s so good to see you. Guess we kind of lost touch.”

“Yeah, you know how it is. It’s hard when you’re busy in college.”

“Yale, right? You wanted to be a lawyer.”

“Yeah.” She shrugged with a smile. “I did get that law degree, but the east coast wasn’t for me. Neither was working all day as a lawyer. So when the bakery came up for sale? I don’t know…it was just an impulse. But now it’s a full-time job. I still do a bit of estate law on the side, but I love having this place.”

“That’s awesome. I’m so happy for you.” Zari looked to the enormous lemon meringue pies in the glass refrigerator. “Did you make those? They look delicious. They’re Aunt Deb’s favorite. I’d love to get one, if you don’t mind. I’d like to surprise her.”

“Of course. It’s on the house.”

“No, no, no…I can pay.”

“I won’t hear of it. Consider it a welcome home gift. I’ll just go grab one out of the back.”

“But you really don’t have to….” Zari sighed in resignation, spying another lost zucchini that had rolled behind the potted palm. As she knelt to pick up one last rogue veggie, she froze at the sound of Quinn’s familiar voice. What is he doing here?

“Look at all this zucchini, Izzy. Deb Williams wasn’t kidding when she said she had extra. Where do you want me to put all of…” Quinn’s eyes widened as his focus landed on her. “Zari? Is that you?”

“Hey—” Zari inwardly cringed, her words failing her. Hey? That’s all you can manage? She attempted to recover her composure and stood, brushing the dust off her knees. “Um, hello. I, uh, hi.”

“Zari,” he repeated, his voice soft.

“Quinn.” With her eyes locked on his, she gave a tight smile. Her heart caught in her chest. She fought the unexpected emotion that rushed back into her. Anger. Jealousy. Lust. Love. No, girl. Not love. He cheated on you. Just hand him the damn vegetable and get the hell out.

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” he told her.

“I, um, grew my hair.” She fiddled with one of her long braids.

“No. It’s not just that. You look…” he smiled, “happy.”

“I guess, well, yes. I am happy. Sunshine was always good for me. The rain was getting to me and, well,” She fumbled for her words, attempting not to ogle every inch of him. Dressed in a well-fitted T-shirt, his biceps straining the fabric, he appeared more delicious than the pies. She glanced to the street and back to Quinn. “I’m happy to be back in California.”

“You stayin’?” He raised an eyebrow, a corner of his mouth ticking upward. “Willistown sure could use a good doctor.”

“I think so.” One hundred percent I’m staying. Quit my job. She nervously picked up a zucchini and fiddled with it. “I’m actually going to look for some office space after I get done here.”

“I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other then.” He looked to her hands and back up to her with a smile.

She froze, realizing she’d been clutching the phallic vegetable. Her face flushed. Oh my God. Don’t act thirsty. Get it together, girl. “Maybe. I’ll probably be pretty busy.” I’ll be alone every night watching movies by myself. “I’ve got a lot of work getting things set up. So how are you? You look—” Hot as fuck. “Great. I mean…you look like you’ve been working out.” Jesus. Stop talking now. “Healthy.” Oh my God, what is wrong with me? “Good.”

“Yeah, mostly.” He glanced to his hand, which was badly scarred.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice soft. Her mind swirled with guilt for breaking it off the way she had. “What happened? Are you okay? Do you have pain?”

“I’m okay now. Shattered a few bones. Only hurts when it rains.” He shrugged. “Good thing we’re in California. Not much of that around.”

“I can take a look at it if you need me to. I’m in orthopedics.”

“It’s okay, really.”

“What happened? Are you still in?”

“Nope. I did an eight-year contract. A few months before it was up, we had a critical aircraft malfunction over the ocean.” Quinn gave a sad smile. “Nearly lost my hand. My buddy didn’t make it.”

“I’m so sorry, Quinn.”

“I decided to give civilian life a try for a while. I’ve been helping Izzy with things around here. She’s building a new office in the back and needs help every now and then. She keeps me busy. It’s good to be back.”

Zari inwardly cursed the jealous streak that stabbed through her. “Looks like she’s done a great job with the place.”

“It’s getting there. Conjuring Cookies was good, but this place has the morning crowd going crazy. You can grab a latte and a breakfast sandwich too. Izzy won’t admit it, but she’s really turned this place into a successful business. I’m really proud of her.”

Are they together? Of course. They are definitely together. Stop. Zari forced her racing thoughts to the back of her mind. Jesus. “Sounds like I need to stop by and have breakfast sometime soon.”

“Absolutely.”

She locked eyes with his, emotions tight in her chest. Time froze and he smiled at her. Her gaze fell from his eyes to his lips. The sound of Isabella’s voice, calling from the back of the store broke the silence and Quinn looked over his shoulder.

“I guess I’d better get these to her so she can get baking. I can help you with that.” He reached for the zucchini, his fingers brushing over hers.

His touch sent magic flowing throughout her body, every cell recalling how he’d set her on fire with pleasure. So many years had passed but within seconds her heart beat fast for the love she’d once left behind.

“I’d better get going.” She snatched her hand back as if she’d been burnt, stunned at the rush of emotion.

“Hope to see you at the fair.” He turned and placed the last zucchini at the top of the pile.

“Please tell Isabella I said goodbye. It was great seeing you.” Zari turned and headed toward the door. She stopped in her tracks as she heard him call her name, his low voice as sexy as ever.

“Zari.”

“Yes?” Her heart caught in her throat as she turned her head toward him.

“Have a nice day.” He winked at her as he turned and walked through the double doors into the back of the store.

She hurried outside and took a deep breath of fresh air. She brought her hands to her face and rubbed her eyes. Her magic tingled through her skin. What is happening to me? Quinn looked so delicious she’d forgotten the pie. But there was only one thing she was interested in tasting and pie wasn’t it. Sweet baby Jesus, I’m in so much trouble.

CHAPTER TWO

THE SCENT of incense lingered in the salt air. The sound of a band warming up cut into the lull of the ocean waves against the shore. Zari smiled as she opened her eyes and looked around the group of women who’d come to learn from her aunt. Though she’d participated reluctantly, she couldn’t deny the positive influence her aunt gifted the women who shared their positive intentions under the light of the full moon.

Zari considered her legacy, her denial of the magic. She’d spent so many years attempting to suppress it, to control her feelings, she’d never recognized the power of a coven. Maybe if she took her aunt up on her lessons, learned to control the magic, it would lend itself to her medical practice. Killing fewer plants by accident might be a nice perk.

Her thoughts drifted to her recent encounter with Quinn. Seeing his smile again, hearing his voice, and losing herself in his eyes for mere seconds had brought forth a rush of both lust and confusion. The instant attraction had steamrolled over her as if they’d never been separated. She couldn’t stop thinking of the brush of his hand on hers. One sizzling touch had brought back a wave of memories.

But it appeared Quinn and Isabella were involved. Zari suspected he helped her with more than construction. Zari loathed the jealousy that balled in her stomach. Isabella had once been a good friend and if she planned on settling back in Willistown she’d hoped to keep her as one.

“The band’s getting ready to play,” her aunt called, shaking Zari from her contemplation.

“Sorry, I zoned out. I was just so relaxed.” She looked up to her aunt who’d begun gathering her things. “Can I help you with that?”

“Yes, thank you. Here.” Aunt Deb passed a large crystal bowl to Zari, beaming with excitement. “You’re going to love this band. They play a little of everything. I’m so glad you’ve come home.”

“Me too.” Zari smiled as she walked across the beach, her toes pressing into the cool sand. “I really needed this. All of this. Seattle is beautiful but I just needed to come home. To the beach.” To Quinn.

“I heard the zucchini bread was a big hit tonight. I heard Isabella made over two hundred loaves and sold all of them. That’s nearly a thousand dollars for the library.” Aunt Deb pointed to an open spot on the beach and began spreading out a blanket. She returned the wave of a friend who sat closer to the stage.

“I saw her today. Isabella. The store looked great.”

“I agree. Conjuring Cookies was good but honestly, Bewitching Bakers beats them with their pies. Charlotte took Tommy’s death hard. Didn’t want the memories of running the store. Her heart just wasn’t in it. So it all kind of worked out in the end. Isabella came home at the right time and snatched up the store. Char got a change of scenery. It was a win-win for both of them.” Aunt Deb settled onto the blanket and patted it, indicating for Zari to join her. “Come sit. Let’s have some wine. Here, open this.”

“Oh wow, this is beautiful,” Zari said as she took a box from her aunt and peered inside, admiring the spread of cheese, meat, and nuts. “Look at these pepperoni roses. Fresh daisies. Honey. Where did you get this?”

“I know right?” She reached for a slice of peppered salami. “Charming Charcuterie is the best in SoCal. Do you remember my friend Patti? She’s in my coven. Elemental witch. Anyway, she runs it. Does such a great job.”

Zari laughed. “Doesn’t anyone here ever wonder why there are so many woo-woo names in this town?”

“Come on, girl. You know this is California. Anything goes. Besides, just look at Mother Nature’s paradise. Whether you are looking out over the cliffs to the ocean or the summit of a mountain, there is no denying the magic. It’s gorgeous.” She handed Zari a glass and poured her a drink from a collapsible wine pouch. “Isabella has begun coming to some of the coven’s events.”

Zari coughed on her wine and quickly dismissed the pang of jealousy that pricked at her. “Really? She’s in your coven?”

“She’s not a full member, but she does join us for events. You know, kind of like a baby witch. She’s still learning.”

“Speaking of Isabella. Today when I went into the bakery, there was a palm tree in the store,” I kill plants. “Out of the blue, it sprouted a new leaf. Like right there. I know I don’t like to talk about it.” My curse. “But I was just taken off guard because this kind of thing hasn’t happened in a while. But today…being home…I was feeling so happy. And then it just popped out. A grown leaf.”

Her aunt laughed and placed a comforting hand on her knee. “It’s who we are, Zari. We are the daughters of Sadie. The magic is within us. Yes, you can deny it if you try, but in Willistown…it’s bound to be harder.”

“It’s not logical,” Zari insisted. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“It doesn’t have to. There are many things we don’t understand but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t have a place in our lives. For us…for you, it’s intrinsic to our very being. To our souls.”

“Well, it feels like a curse.”

“It isn’t a curse. It’s a gift like anything else in life, and it is what you make of it. Magic has been passed down throughout the centuries in our family. It’s who we are. Some witches deny their gifts, choose to hide them. And I suppose there’s good reason why. We’ve been forced into hiding, too powerful for the men who know the true power of the divine feminine. Those who fear us often just want to force their beliefs on others.”

“Well, I know this much. Being back here, it’s harder to control. And I’m just thinking that if I want to stay, which I do, then I have to accept who I am. Doing the circle tonight was peaceful. And I really enjoyed it.” Zari took a sip of the crisp pinot grigio. “I’m thinking maybe I should take you up on some of those lessons. Who knows? It might help with my practice. At the very least I can learn how to control it.”

“Oh Zari. Really?” Aunt Deb gave her a quick hug and smile. “I know you’ve been holding it all in for so long. And I know why. But I promise you won’t be sorry. Your magic isn’t just about flowers. Oh, no, no. That’s just your spark. You’ve got so much more inside you. I just know it. It will be fun.”

“Fun? Well, I don’t know about that. But I do think being away from home has given me time to appreciate the sun. And today when I saw Quinn…” Zari’s eyes lit up as she spoke.

“Quinn?” Her aunt shot her an inquisitive look, her lips curling up into a knowing smile.

“Yes…Quinn.” Kari glanced to her glass of wine, reflecting on her feelings. “He was there when I dropped off the zucchini. He looked so…” Delicious. She exhaled, willing her body to stop responding to the memory of seeing him. “Good.”

“Is that right, now?” Aunt Deb sipped her drink, all ears, focused on Zari’s revelation.

“Yes, he did. But I guess you knew that.”

“It’s been great having him back in town. Russ used to do a lot of construction here in Willistown. But he and his wife bought an RV about two years ago. Had plans to roam the country with it. He was ready to retire but his kids didn’t want to take over his business. Life rolls on, you know. It’s how it is.” Aunt Deb shrugged and looked to the stage. “Quinn’s arrival was serendipitous.”

“I’ll admit when I saw him today… for just a moment, I had that feeling you get. We have so many memories together.” She shook her head, struggling to articulate her thoughts. “It’s not that I regret breaking up with him. I mean who knows who that girl really was, the one who answered his phone. But we were young then. It’s not like he tried to fix things either. All I know is that I made the right decision at that time. I was in med school. My residency was coming up. I loved being able to devote all my energy to my career. And because I did that, I help people. I love what I do. It was my choice and I know I made the right one. But today…that feeling…ugh. It just got to me.” Do not catch feelings. “Dammit.”

“You can’t fight destiny, girl.” Aunt Deb reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Second chances aren’t just for hexes. They sometimes work for ex’s too.”

Second chances. Maybe too many things had gone down. Even if that weren’t true, he wasn’t available and the last thing she needed was an unavailable man. Not happening. Zari held the glass up to the stars, resignation in her tone. “It doesn’t matter what I feel. He’s got Isabella. And I’m not going there. Who knows? Maybe the universe has some perfect guy for me, and I just haven’t met him yet.”

“What does Isabella have to do with Quinn? I don’t think they are—” Her aunt’s words trailed into silence.

Zari glanced up to the familiar muscular silhouette she’d recognize anywhere. His face came into view as he knelt to speak to them. “Quinn.”

“Zari. Hey, Miss Williams. How are you?”

“Good to see you again, Quinn.” Aunt Deb looked over her shoulder and quickly snatched up one of the wine bags. “Would you excuse me for a minute? I see Charlotte over there. I forgot to bring her this special brew I made today. I’ll be right back.”

“Aunt Deb. You don’t need to go,” Zari protested.

“Already gone. You two need time to catch up.” She waved and headed across the sand toward her friend.

“I’m glad you made it,” Quinn said, his voice low and smooth.

“It was great seeing you today,” Zara blurted out, staring into the deepest blue eyes she’d ever known. The woodsy scent of his cologne teased her nose. Why did he always smell so good? Her heart pounded faster as he drew closer and sat down next to her.

“I always hoped I’d see you again. What happened all those years ago…we never talked but I need you to know, Zari. The person who picked up my phone was a bartender. I’d accidentally left it at the bar the night before I was deploying. I don’t know what she said to you, but I didn’t even know her. And when I got your voicemail the next day, I just thought that maybe it was what you always wanted. I know it’s hard being with someone who’s never around. And you were busy at school. We both were headed into some heavy stuff. It wasn’t fair to either of us.”

Relief tore through her at his words, confirmation that he’d never cheated, but also guilt for breaking things off the way she’d done. “I should have handled it differently.”

“I never stopped thinking of you,” he confessed.

Zari’s chest caught with emotion. She opened her mouth to respond but words failed her. Why was this so difficult? It had been years since they’d made love, talked until the wee hours of the morning. But they couldn’t go back. None of it mattered anymore. Isabella.

“Quinn, I—” The band roared to life, offering a welcome break in the tension.

“Dance with me.” Quinn extended his hand to her.

Whether it was the rhythmic reggae or magic in the night air, she couldn’t resist. Zari instinctively placed her hand in his, allowing him to pull her to her feet and into his embrace. Her cheeks flushed as her traitorous body heated with arousal. A small breath rushed from her lungs as he tugged her close.

She struggled to contain the feelings roaring to life as they moved into a slow dance. His hand traveled to the small of her back, his fingertips brushing over her exposed skin. With her body against his, she lost herself in the music. Her nipples strained against the fabric of her shirt, her body igniting with desire. She wanted him, around her, on her, in her.

As the song came to an end, the sound of waves breaking against the shoreline replaced the music. In the silence, Zari reluctantly pulled away, her eyes locked on his. Her focus fell to his lips, recalling the magic he alone could create when he touched her body.

“Quinn…I—” Tempted by the only man she’d ever loved, her body flushed with arousal. Conflicted, Zari released his hands. “I’m sorry. I know you’re involved. I can’t…”

“Involved? Me?” He laughed, holding up his palms. “No, ma’am.”

“But Isabella…you two are—” she began.

“Hold up. You think…me? With Isabella? Oh, no, no, no.”

“But I thought you two were—”

“Yeah, no way. I think her fiancée, Emma, might have an issue with that.”

“But you are her—”

“I’m her partner.”

“Her partner?” Zari’s heart sank.

“Mostly silent but like I said, I help out a little when she needs me.” His smile faded, his expression serious. “I’m not the cheating type, Zari. Never was. Never will be.”

“I’m sorry, Quinn. When I saw you there in the store…I shouldn’t have assumed.” Out of the corner of her eye, she spied Isabella slow dancing with her fiancée. She glanced back up to Quinn, regret churning in her gut. “They look really happy.”

“All those years ago…I wasn’t cheating on you. I’d never do that. But we both had other commitments.”

Zari nervously bit her lip, guilt threading through her. “I had no right to break it off the way I did. There was so much going on at school, and I just thought…I don’t know. She said she was seeing you. I didn’t want to hold you back from your dream.”

“It wasn’t just you. It was me too. I chose to let it go. I told myself there were a million reasons why you shouldn’t be with me. I was about to put myself into some seriously dark situations. I knew what I was getting into, and I didn’t know if I was going to make it back alive. You needed to concentrate on your studies, not worry about me. It was for the best. But Zari, you’ve got to know that I didn’t want to let you go…not ever. It was the hardest damn thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

“Do you believe in second chances?” she whispered, her pulse racing as she placed the palm of her hand to his chest.

“I believe that some things are meant to be. I believe in us.” Quinn cocked his head and shot her a sexy smile. “We just needed a little bit of time and a little bit of magic.”

Zari’s stomach flipped as he reached for her hand and pulled her toward him. His muscular chest brushed against hers, sending a jolt of arousal throughout her body. As he leaned toward her and whispered in her ear, her body broke out in gooseflesh. “Can you feel the magic?”

The air rushed from her lungs as he captured her lips. A rush of emotion threaded through her as Quinn devoured her mouth. Zari lost herself in his devastating kiss. As he tore his mouth from hers, she released a ragged breath, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Is this happening?” she whispered in disbelief.

“Let’s get out of here. I’ve got something to show you.”

CHAPTER THREE

“I CAN’T BELIEVE you built a house here.” Zari stood in awe of the incredible view. The full moon shone bright upon the ocean, reflecting light off the smooth-as-glass water.

“I loved it here. I loved you,” Quinn confessed, his voice soft.

Zari melted inside at his words, memories flooding back, warming her soul. “How many times did we sit on the beach dreaming of the perfect home?”

“I know, right? We must have spent hours looking up at those cliffs. At Mr. Benson’s lookout.” He sighed. “When the lot came up for sale, I bought it. Those days on the beach with you…it was the best time of my life. There was nothing more perfect than a day of surfing with you.”

“Do you remember all the firepits we’d make? Hoping not to get caught by the beach patrol.”

“Remember when you talked that one guy out of giving us a ticket?”

“I ate way too many marshmallows.” She laughed. “Do you still play guitar?”

“Hell yeah.” He nodded.

“Surf?”

“Of course. You’re never too old.”

“I don’t know about that.” She smiled and shook her head. “It’s been years for me.”

“Ah, come on now. You’re never too old. I see seniors out there shreddin’ it.”

“It got away from me when I moved to Seattle. Haven’t been out in the ocean in ages. On a boat maybe, but not my board.” She shrugged. “Washington was a different vibe for me.”

“But you’re back now. For good?”

“I am. I’ll miss Seattle, for sure. It’s beautiful. But I’ve grown tired of the rain. It’s time to come home. I see my future here.” Her flirty smile matched the desire twisting through her.

“Let’s go surfing tomorrow,” he suggested, enthusiasm in his voice. “We’ll go over to Dee’s. Pick you up a new board.”

“It’s a date,” Zari said without thinking. A date? She knew better than to presume he wanted more than one night. She turned her back to the sea and admired the pool area, noting the flowerbeds that appeared in dire need of water. Her attention went to the stacked boxes that lined the rectangular pool, and she changed the subject. “You must have an incredible view during the day.”

“Yeah. It’s amazing. Hopefully you’ll stay and see it in the morning. I…” Quinn reached for her hand and brought her palm to his chest. “I’m sorry. I know this is presumptuous of me, Zar. Look, I don’t know if you’ve got a boyfriend, but I never stopped thinking about you. Not one day. I’m not going to let you go this time.”

A huge smile widened on her face, happiness threading through her. Zari closed the distance between them, her heart pounding. “I don’t want to let you go either. But—”

Disappointment flashed in his eyes, and she continued.

“There’re just some things about me. Things you don’t know. I’ve got to tell you before we go any further.” I’m a witch. I come from a long line of witches. He’s going to think I’m crazy.

“There’s nothing you could tell me that will make me change my mind,” he insisted.

She sighed and looked to the wilted hibiscus. “Do you see those flowers over there?”

“The red ones?”

“Yep.”

“I know. It’s kind of a mess, right? With the renovations, the beds got dug up and now they’re dying. I think it’s safe to say I don’t have a green thumb. The landscaper is coming next week to replace them.”

Zari smiled up at him. If she had a shot at this relationship, it would be based on honesty. No more lying to herself or Quinn. She could no longer deny the magic in her veins. Embracing her legacy was the only way to have happiness.

She glanced once more to the dying flowers. “Kiss me.”

“Any day all day.” Quinn smiled, his lips brushing against hers.

Zari released all her inhibitions as she kissed him. Embracing her true nature, she released the magic. Her arousal rose, and she ached for more, but reluctantly pulled away, ready to share the truth. “Quinn, I don’t know if you will understand this—”

“I told you there’s nothing you can say that will change my mind about you, I know—”

Zari looked to the flowers and back to Quinn. The dried, shriveled-up leaves and petals had been replaced with new growth. She braced herself for his reaction, silently holding her breath as he took in the sight of the abundant plant, red flowers blooming everywhere.

“I was wondering when you’d be ready.” Quinn smiled at her.

“Ready?” she asked, her eyes wide.

“Ready to show me, to talk about it. It was never my place. I could tell it made you uncomfortable.”

“You knew about the…” Her lips drew into a tight smile as she mustered the courage to blurt out the word. When she finally managed to say it, her voice was but a whisper. “Magic?”

Quinn took her hands in his, his thumbs stroking her palms. “Zari. I’ve always known. You’ve got magic in your soul.”

“But…how? Did my aunt tell you?”

“I come from magic,” he confided. “My family is one of the original families in Willistown. My sister is a witch. My mom too. This town we live in…you know it’s always been filled with magic. Supernatural happenings. All the ghost stories we used to tell on the beach had an ounce of truth to them.”

His comforting smile permeated her very soul as he spoke to her. “Zari. There’s nothing you could tell me that would make me not accept you. You just needed to accept yourself.”

“I’ve tried so hard to control it but now that I’m back…I think it’s time. I’ve wanted a meaningful change in my life. And the only way I can do that is to explore the magic. So if you’re okay with replacing flowers every now and then until I learn how to make it work,” she shrugged and laughed, “and whatever else I might be doing in the future, then I’d really like to see that sunrise.”

“You sure you want to do this?” he asked, wearing a seductive smile. “Because I’ve been waiting ten long years for this night. And I’ve got some plans for you.”

Zari’s body went on alert as he pulled her toward him, his erection brushing against her hip. Anticipation laced throughout her body, a throbbing ache pulsing between her legs. She squealed as he lifted her into his arms and carried her into the house.

BREATHLESS, Zari kissed him, her body on fire with arousal. They’d torn off each other’s clothes on the way into the house and only made it to the family room. He broke their kiss long enough to give a voice command that ignited the fireplace and dimmed the lights

Her heart raced at the sight of him standing nude before her. At six-foot four, he’d grown muscular, his washboard abs ripped down to a v. Her attention was drawn to a foot-long scar that ran from his ribs to his hip. As she reached to touch him, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist. “Ah, ah, darlin’… not yet.”

A broad smile crossed her face as he pulled her against him and pressed his lips to hers. With a demanding urgency, he kissed her. She sighed into his mouth as his fingers brushed through her wet folds and he pressed a digit deep inside her. Her hips moved in rhythm against his hand, her body on fire with arousal.

“Please,” she begged, desperate to relieve the ache between her legs. She grasped his shoulders, her forehead resting against his chest as he fucked her with his fingers.

“You’ve been a bad little witch,” he growled. “My witch.”

“No, no, no don’t. I—” Zari shook her head in protest as he withdrew his fingers.

He reached for her waist, setting her on the edge of the sofa. “I’ve waited a long time for this.”

Her body quivered in anticipation as he spread her knees wide open, his strong palms traveling up her inner thighs. As his warm breath danced over her skin, she moaned.

This man had been her everything. Starved of his touch, his love, she’d never stopped thinking of him. And now…she’d live free to be herself, her heart full, knowing he accepted her for who she was. He embraced her mind, her legacy, her magic.

Every kiss on her inner thigh burned with excitement, and she let go of inhibitions. She gasped as his tongue brushed over her clit. Like a master he played her while a strong finger pumped inside of her.

“I love the way you taste, baby. Hmm…I’ve missed this,” he groaned.

Zari’s head lolled back against the sofa as Quinn cupped a hand over her breast and squeezed her nipple, the sweet slice of pain sending a jolt of arousal to her pussy. With each slow, deliberate lap over her swollen bead, Zari edged toward orgasm. His thumb stroked her clitoris, two fingers teasing the sensitive strip of nerves deep inside her.

“Quinn…” Zari clutched at the cushions. In sync with each stroke of his tongue, she pumped her pelvis toward his mouth. “Oh God. Please. Yes. Suck me.”

Zari screamed as he sucked her clit between his lips and flicked at her quivering bud, her core tightening around his fingers. He ruthlessly lapped at her pussy driving her over the edge. As her climax seized her, her body shook with pleasure.

She gasped as Quinn withdrew his fingers and lifted her up off the sofa. She’d waited what felt like lifetime to be in his arms again. Her heart pounded as he laid her onto the soft lambskin rug in front of the fireplace. She watched in anticipation as he tore open a condom and sheathed himself. Like a ravenous wolf, he pinned his prey to the ground. Zari lost herself as she focused on Quinn’s face, a hungry passion swirled in his hazel eyes.

“I’ve missed you…I’ve missed us,” she confessed as he settled himself between her legs, his rock-hard cock pressing at her entrance.

“It was always you.” Quinn told her, easing himself inside her tight channel.

“Yes,” she cried as he stretched open her tight pussy, his thick shaft filling her.

“It will always be you,” he grunted, thrusting deep inside her once again.

Quinn’s lips crushed down upon hers as he commanded both her body and soul, sliding in and out of her. Zari kissed him back with a desperate ferocity, her heart full of emotion. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her hips meeting his in rhythm.

“Ah, yes, Quinn,” she moaned as he thrust into her.

“Fuck yes, Zar. You’re everything.” His head dipped to her breast and teased his tongue over her nipple.

Flesh meeting flesh sounded, the scent of sex lingering in the air. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders, her climax rising as he fucked her harder.

“Yes, please,” Zari begged. “Oh my God.”

Without warning Quinn withdrew and flipped her onto her stomach. “On your knees,” he commanded.

Zari complied with his delicious demand and pushed up onto her hands and knees. The touch of his palms to her ass sent a fresh jolt of desire to her pussy, her entire body lit with arousal. She moaned as his thick crown pushed inside her.

“Ah yes. Fuck me now. Please. Quinn,” she pleaded, impatient as he teased her, slowly filling her to the hilt.

“Jesus, Zari. You feel so good,” he grunted, plunging his cock in and out of her.

“Please…ahh,” her core contracted around his shaft as a firm slap stung her cheek.

“That’s my girl.” He palmed her ass, still slowly fucking her. He licked a thumb and brought it to her back hole. With his other hand, he reached for her pussy.

Zari sucked a breath at his touch, his finger circling her puckered hole. Her head lolled forward as his fingers played over her clit. She braced herself on her forearms, moaning with pleasure with each strong thrust of his cock inside her. He played her body, teasing her anus with his thumb, sliding it inside her.

As he increased his pace, her body hurled toward orgasm. “Yes, yes…fuck me, oh God. Please, please—”

“That’s it, oh yeah…God you’re beautiful,” he told her as he teased his fingers around her throat, dipping a finger into her mouth, allowing her to suck it.

“Quinn, oh my God,” she cried, her climax crashing into her. Her body shook with ecstasy, pleasure dancing throughout every cell of her body.

He eased himself from her and rolled on his back, still panting for breath. Zari rolled to her side and wrapped an arm around him. She rested her head on his chest, the sound of his racing heart beating in tandem with hers.

Together with Quinn, the one and only love of her life, Zari embraced the moment. I love you. The words danced on the tip of her tongue.

“I love you, Zari.” He placed a kiss to the top of her head.

Her heart burst at his words. “I love you too.”

True love could never be thwarted by distance or time. They’d found their way back together, back home. Second chances, one love…all they’d needed was a little magic.

The End

About the Author

Kym Grosso is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the award-winning paranormal romance series, The Immortals of New Orleans. She also writes a contemporary romantic suspense series, Club Altura. In addition to romance novels, Kym has written and published several articles about autism, and is passionate about autism advocacy. She is also a contributing essay author in Chicken Soup for the Soul: Raising Kids on the Spectrum.

Kym loves traveling just about anywhere that has a beach or snow-covered mountains. On any given night, when not writing her own books, Kym can be found reading her Kindle, which is filled with hundreds of romances.

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CHASER

A FIREBALL POSTLUDE

LAINEY DAVIS

This story is written in honor of Marjorie Jean Coulter and Veronica Gandee—real women from the Pittsburgh region who lost their lives seeking abortion care before it was legal.

CHAPTER ONE

AJ

I REACH for Samantha’s arm, seeing her staring off into space. “What’s on your mind?” In the year since we moved in together, she’s only been this quiet when sleeping. Her noise is one of the things I love about her—how she mumbles to herself while working, recites mantras, talks herself through problems.

She turns to face me, eyes wide. “Oh.” She stretches and closes the lid to her laptop, which she brought with her to bed despite promising not to do that anymore. “I’ve been thinking about a client.”

I arch a brow and cross my arms. “I thought you hired Lyra to think about the clients so you could think about your technology.” Sam owns a tech company and serves as the chief technology officer, designing all sorts of software that helps scientific researchers streamline their work. Her new CEO is a whiz at landing clients, especially in healthcare research.

Sam nods and inches toward to me. I lift an arm around her shoulder, snuggling her in closer. “Right.” Her voice is muffled by my shirt and I can tell she’s sniffing me. I like it, the way she loves to smell me. The way she doesn’t think I notice her huffing me like my students with the Mr. Sketch markers. “It’s just that this one stuck out to me and I was reading about their work.”

“Mm.” I trace a finger along her arm. “Want to tell me?”

“What if I seduce you and we pretend I wasn’t worried about it?”

I pinch her upper arm gently, causing her to squeak. “What if you tell me about it first?”

She sighs. “The client is developing genetic testing for all different things. They’ve got some promising new tests for cancer gene markers.”

“Very useful.” I stroke her hair, patiently waiting for her to tell me what’s really got her verklempt.

Another deep breath and Sam traces her own fingers along my chest, mirroring the movements of my fingers along her temple. It’s nice, this circle of soothing. She clucks her tongue. “They just got FDA approval for a test that can show genetic tendency for blood clots. Like my mom had…”

“Ah. Oh, babe, come here.” I pull her onto my lap, cradling her head with one arm and squeezing her thigh with my other. Samantha’s mother died young from a pulmonary embolism. The family doesn’t talk about it much and, as far as I know, her brother and sister would prefer to pretend it all just never happened. That’s not Sam’s way, though. “You want to take the test?”

I feel her nod. “Is that weird? Is that a conflict of interest? There haven’t been very many predictors and…you know I get my physical every year. But Mom was healthy, too…until she wasn’t.”

“Well, I don’t know about a conflict of interest. But you’re definitely not weird for wanting to know the secrets hiding in your genes.”

“Once I know, then I’ll know, though.”

“Mm.” I know she likes the deep rumble of my voice. I feel her press her cheek against my chest so I make the sound again.

“You’re like one of those massage chairs at the nail salon. Oh, take your shirt off and rumble so I can run my hands through your pelt.”

“We’ve moved on to the seduction portion of the evening, I see.” I laugh but wriggle until I can pull my undershirt over my head. I’m not entirely sure why my beloved is so fascinated with my fuzz, but who am I to deny her?

Samantha distracts herself with my chest hair as I hum Shabbat table songs. I never imagined I’d have this sort of intimacy, a person who accepts me as I am and loves me because of it all. I sing to her in Hebrew about peace and comfort, words I’ve chanted my entire life surrounded by family and food and safety. Words I always just sang by rote, never really focusing on the meaning.

It’s different now, singing to a woman I love.

Eventually, I realize the impact of what she said. If she finds out she has some sort of inherited condition… I kiss the top of her head. “You know I’m here no matter what, right? Test or no test, healthy Sam or not-so-healthy Sam. I’m not going anywhere.”

She looks up at me with tears on her lashes. I kiss them away, the salt sealing my promise. Sam adjusts herself on my lap so she’s straddling me, her hands on my shoulders. She looks into my eyes, her expression vulnerable. I lean forward and kiss her lips, pulling her against me and holding on tight. “You can’t know that, though.” She traces my mouth with the tip of one finger and I nip at her playfully.

“I do know it. You’re stuck with me, Samantha Vine.” She draws in a ragged breath and nods, sliding off my lap again, reaching over me to turn off the bedside light. We cuddle tighter in the dark and I listen to her breathing, noticing when she falls asleep. I lie awake pondering how exactly I might help her understand that I’m serious. That I’m committed to her. That this is forever for me.

Asking her to marry me seems perfunctory somehow, like something she’d view as archaic. But maybe Samantha Vine needs tradition? I start to imagine the wedding we’d have, probably a small to-do with food and drink at her friend Esther’s bar. She’d bring all her rowdy feminist friends, I’d bring my family and a few guys from work. Maybe I should just ask her. Maybe.

CHAPTER TWO

SAMANTHA

I WAKE up in the middle of the night, AJ breathing slowly in my ear with his arm slung around my belly. It’s nice, but I can’t fall back asleep. Rather than wake him and ask him to sing for me again, I decide to text my friends.

We call ourselves Foof…Fresh Out Of Fucks. We’re entrepreneurs, engineers, grandmas, authors. We meet a few times a month at our friend Esther’s bar, Bridges and Bitters, to support each other in meeting our goals. No matter what those goals are. But we’re more than just a club. These women have had my back during my darkest days, and I guess it’s not bragging to admit that I’ve been a shoulder for them to lean on, too.

So yeah. I’m texting them at two in the morning. Someone is bound to be up with a baby or a hot flash.

Me: Any of you ever have genetic testing?

Orla Brady’s name pops up on the screen with a message.

Yeah, when I was preggo with Kellen.

Me: Really? I thought they just test for birth defects or something.

Now I see Maddie Brady’s name on the screen.

They can test for lots of stuff. I’m in a trial with Arlan to see if there’s a genetic marker for my diabetes.

Orla: Yeah, they can see if I’m genetically predisposed for cervical cancer like my mom had.

I wasn’t expecting this sort of frank discussion of all my friends’ family history, but I’m not sure why not. We talk about everything in Foof. I sat around nearly comatose with worry all evening, thinking about what it might mean if I signed up to see if I maybe have whatever killed my mom. I should have reached out to my friends sooner.

Me: Weren’t you worried about what you’d find out?

Maddie: Yes. But it’s better to know.

Orla: Definitely better to know. I can be proactive. Not that I have yet…

AJ mumbles something in his sleep and rolls over. I rearrange my pillow so the light from my phone screen won’t disturb him if he wakes up.

Me: So you only did the testing because of kids? I don’t even know if I want kids.

Maddie: Well I already knew I had the beetus. For me it was about contributing to research.

Orla: Before I had kids I was having random, condom-ripping sex with strangers at weddings, so it’s not like I was super responsible.

I laugh out loud, remembering the night Orla met her husband.

Me: Well I did encourage you to go to a clinic after you did that.

Orla: And I ignored you.

Me: Okay, fair.

Maddie: Wanna tell us what’s up?

Me: Next meeting I will. Thanks, friends.

I’M irritated to be dealing with all these feelings. Up until I read up on this company, life was going great. The leadership transition at work has been amazing. Lyra pulls in companies from all over and sets all sorts of growth targets that Vinea demolishes. My friends are all killing it as they reach for their dreams. I was even thinking about asking AJ to marry me.

He seems to really tolerate my obsessions and almost never groans or throws pillows at me when he wakes up to find me coding from bed in the middle of the night. I glance over at him again, watching his face as he sleeps. Earlier when I was upset, he just held me. He held me and I felt so safe as my mind reeled and I thought about what I’d do if I learned I have the condition that killed my mother.

If I take this test and find out I might have an embolism, I’d feel like a time bomb walking around waiting to explode. I bite my lip. When I’m upset like this, I usually just make big donations to organizations researching cardiovascular health. I dive into my work to avoid thinking about my fear. Or my sadness. I don’t think I can just donate money to this testing company…or any company right now if my company is about to partner with one of these orgs.

I make a note for myself to ask my lawyer in the morning.

I still can’t sleep.

I roll on my side to stare at AJ some more. I consider reaching out to touch him. I peek under the sheets to see if he’s visibly hard, but it’s too dark to tell. He has to teach in a few hours. I wonder if he’d be mad if I just…rubbed myself against him for a little while. I’m relatively sure that would help me fall asleep after.

“I can hear you thinking.” His voice is a low rumble and my eyes fly wide open when I realize he’s at least partially awake.

“Was I thinking out loud?”

“Ungh.” He grunts and wedges an arm around me, his big palm squeezing my butt. He drapes his far arm across both our bodies and strokes my hair. It’s not the sensual touch I thought I wanted, but as he idly traces his fingers along my skin, I realize it’s the comforting sort of touch I need. I fall asleep gradually, tangled up with this man who mysteriously, magically understands me.

CHAPTER THREE

AJ

I PROBABLY SHOULDN’T REACH out to Sam’s co-workers without her knowing, but then again she did barge into my classroom when we first met and derailed a middle school biology lesson. Surely it’s okay if I ask Lyra about a gift for my gal?

I waffle about it through my first period lesson on cell membranes and decide it’s not fair to the students if I’m this distracted. I use my prep period to compose an email that shouldn’t be so difficult. I try to sound chill, when really I know the weight of what I’m asking, what I’m proposing to do.

Hey, Lyra. Hope you’re doing well! Thanks again for setting up a field trip for my science students again this year. We all know last year was a roaring success :D

Anyway, Sam said you’ve got a new client who does genetic test kits. I’d like to order some at-home kits for me and Sam to do together. Can you set me up?

As I press send, I feel the weight of it leave with the message. It’s out there now, a thing I’m going to do. I’ve been spending a lot of time lately thinking about how I should show Samantha I’ve got forever feelings for her. She’s not a words gal. I know I need a gesture, and I already used up my best ideas getting her to date me to begin with.

I have this idea that I can set up candles and soft music, pull out the test kits, and ask her to swab cheeks with me. Maybe if we both delve into the secrets of our DNA, she’ll see me laying myself bare to her. At a sub-cellular level. Whatever we find in there, we can tackle it together.

My computer pings a few seconds later, a new email from Lyra flashing in my notifications.

AJ: I’ve got a mountain of test kits here. Courier will deliver along with field trip invites by end of day. Take good care.

“Huh.” I grunt it loud enough that my friend Leo, passing by my open door, squeaks to a halt, his dress shoes chirping on the tile floor.

“What are you growling at?” He leans on the door frame, eating an apple.

“That wasn’t a growl.” He furrows his brow. “It was a note of surprise!” When he gestures for me to continue, I try to deflect by explaining that Sam’s company, Vinea, will host the entire seventh grade again for a field trip. “They’re even tossing in another round of tablets, transportation, the works.”

Leo grins. “We could get used to this royal treatment.” We both laugh as the lights flicker. Teaching in an urban public middle school is not glamorous. Our building lacks the grandeur of Sam’s elegant space. But she and her colleagues are committed to creating opportunities for our kids to land tech jobs someday. It’s one of the things I love most about her.

Leo gestures at me with his apple. “I know you’re not telling me the whole story, dude. Spill.”

At this, Doug Rogers from the English department pokes his head over Leo’s. “Ooh, is AJ revealing dark secrets?” He rubs his hands together. Doug’s been married for ages, and the more his wife reads steamy romance novels, the more Doug inserts himself into his friends’ love lives. I swear, they must go home and compare notes.

I blow out a breath and shake my head. “I’m working on a grand gesture for Sam.”

Leo’s brows shoot up and Doug nods. “You in the doghouse again?”

“Nothing like that. I…” I hold up my palms. “I’m ready for forever.” I shrug as Doug and Leo whoop and rush toward the desk to pound my back. I like that I’ve told them. It feels more real now, like I’ve committed to the process. It also seems like less of a gamble than I’d feared.

Years ago, I planned to ask another woman to marry me. She broke my heart and messed with my self-esteem. This feels utterly opposite. Exciting rather than terrifying. An offering of myself, rather than me begging someone to be with me.

I grin up at my friends as the bell rings. Doug points a finger at me. “Please don’t allow kids at the wedding, dude. I want a night out with my wife for a change.” I laugh as he backs into the hall, where a sea of middle schoolers waits to distract me from planning my proposal.

CHAPTER FOUR

SAMANTHA

MY FOOF FRIENDS pester me all day, wanting to know more about my late-night questions. We eventually plan an impromptu happy hour at Bridges and Bitters, and I’m stunned by the turnout. Every babysitter in Pittsburgh must be working to care for the huge brood of Foof kids so all their moms and even grandmothers can come sip cocktails and force me to spill my guts.

By the time I walk in the door with Lyra, Esther’s got a full house of kick-ass women swarming her bar. Esther beckons for me to help her with a tray of cocktails. She always tests her new ideas with Foof before serving them to the public at large. She tries to give us the drinks for free and I always shove cash in her jeans pockets when she’s not looking.

“What’ve we got tonight, friend?”

Esther grins. “I call it Purgatory, Sam.”

I roll my eyes at her. “I told you I’d tell you all about it today.”

She laughs. “Yeah, but you made me wait.” Lyra and I each take a sip and I immediately moan in bliss at the flavor explosion. Esther nods. “Rye, green chartreuse, lemon zest, a little water. And Benedictine. You getting the floral notes?”

Lyra nods, sipping again and smacking her lips.

Esther pats my arm. “Okay, you’ve had your monk-made booze. Now spill.”

I sigh and sit at the bar. My friends, as if they can sense my arrival, quiet and lean in, hooking their high heels around the rungs of their stools and sipping their green, honey-sweet drinks. “Well,” I stammer. “I’m scared.”

Nicole Brady rolls her eyes. “Yes, yes, we can tell. About what, exactly?” I can always count on her blunt assessment of any situation and I squeeze her leg in appreciation.

“I think I’m in love with AJ.” My friends squint at me and I roll my eyes. “I mean like in love, in love. Like maybe forever.” I take a sip of my drink while they all get their oohs and aahs out of the way. I gesture at Lyra. “But then I got thinking about mortality. It’s Lyra’s fault. We’re partnering with some genetic testing folks…”

I drift off, hoping I won’t have to elaborate further. They all know I lost my mother too young, that her death meant I had a tremendous burden in raising my siblings, that it’s very hard for me to trust anyone else or accept any form of help as a result.

Orla sets her empty glass on the bar. “You’re scared to find out you might have whatever killed your mother, just lurking in you.” I nod. She leans in, her expression serious. “We can do the tests together if you want. I’ll find out about the cervical cancer, one way or another.”

I squeeze her hand, feeling a tear slip down my cheek as one by one, my friends commit to finding out about their health histories. I remember that I’m not alone in these experiences or these fears. I realize how complete my life feels in this moment, surrounded by good friends, knowing I have a good man at home waiting for me.

“Oh, shit, AJ!” I realize I never checked in with him or told him I’d be late. When I pull my phone out of my purse, I see a bunch of missed calls and texts.

Lyra purses her lips, wearing an odd expression. “You should probably go home to him.”

I frown at her. “What do you know?”

She waves a hand at me. “Just go home. We’re good here.”

I nod and gather my things, pulling up the app to call for a ride since I think Esther went hard on the whiskey in my drink.

IT’S FULLY dark by the time I get home, and I don’t see any lights on in the house as I burst in the front door. “AJ! I’m sorry! I’m here—“

My words catch in my throat when I see him in the dining room, the table covered in lit votive candles, two cardboard boxes set up on placemats, much too small to contain any sort of food. “Come here,” he says, and I’m already en route to him, drawn to his flame like one of the moths he was studying with his students.

I shouldn’t be thinking about moths when my boyfriend is doing something romantic, but I can’t stop thinking about metamorphosis, about how the caterpillars enter the cocoon and emerge something entirely new, something with the power of flight.

“You make me feel like a moth,” I whisper, taking his hand as he helps me into one of the seats. “I don’t know what this is, but I love it already and—what is this?” I pick up one of the boxes, seeing the logo from the new genetic testing client we formally landed today at Vinea.

“Samantha Vine,” he kneels on the floor in front of me, reaching for the cardboard box and pulling out the cheek swab, its packaging crinkling in his hand. “Will you do me the honor of gathering my saliva?”

I shouldn’t burst out laughing, not when my handsome lover is gazing up at me, his dark eyes gleaming in the candlelight. Not when he so obviously has some deep, symbolic meaning he’s trying to convey.

But I do laugh, and his eyes smile. “I want to delve into my genetic secrets with you.” He splays his palms across my lap. “I want to find out whatever I can, and prepare for it, and make a plan with you. Because I’m here with you, Sam. No matter what.”

When I start to cry a little bit, he reaches up and cups my face. “I spent a lot of time worrying that a regular marriage proposal wasn’t quite right. Not for us.” I hiccup. Did he say marriage? Am I the sort of person swooning about marriage? I remind myself I was considering proposing to him anyway.

AJ’s thumb is warm and gentle on my cheek. “So, here we go, I guess. Sam, I love you. I want to make a life with you. I want to continue this amazing life we have together.” He shrugs. “So I thought we could do these tests together. Find out whatever it says and commit to being together whatever the outcome.”

My heart thumps rapidly in my chest, and then slows, because he’s right. This isn’t a revelation. This is what we’ve been building toward. This is just…what’s next for us. “I love you,” I whisper, and turn my cheek into his palm, feeling the warmth of his hand on my skin.

“I love you, too. So, what do you say? Swab cheeks with me?”

I nod and he opens his mouth. I giggle as I pull the cotton swab from the package and swipe the inside of each of his cheeks. He uncaps the collection vial for me and I insert the swab, squeezing his hand as he seals it all shut and tucks it into the envelope to mail back to the lab for processing. AJ arches a brow, a silent question, and I nod, nudging the other box toward him.

I never imagined it could feel erotic to gather saliva samples. But then, AJ and I have had a lot of erotic scientific moments. I flush, remembering the night we made love in the park after counting chimney swifts. I know he’s thinking of that moment, too, as his gaze turns hot while he seals my test sample in its envelope.

“I have another surprise for you.” His breath is hot against my ear as he leans toward me. My heart pounds as I wait. AJ walks across the kitchen, sliding another cardboard box from the fridge, this one pink and branded with the logo of our favorite bakery.

“Oh, shit, you bought me cake?”

CHAPTER FIVE

AJ

SAMANTHA and I first fell in love over floor cake.

I’ll never forget the sensation of licking frosting from her collar bone in some secluded office at a dinner party.

Now, the decadent layer cake with extra buttercream is a tradition for us. I break out the cake when I mean business. And tonight, after that swell of emotions and promises made, I’m ready to claim her, to mark my territory with frosting.

Samantha, who sprang from her seat when she saw the bakery box, backs up against the counter as I slowly unwrap the giant slice I bought for us to share. “Oh, AJ,” she whispers, licking her lips as I sink a fork into the very tip of the dessert.

I walk around the counter and nestle between her legs, placing the cake beside her. “Open up,” I growl, and slide the fork between her lips. She makes a sound that shoots directly to my pants.

I fork another bite of cake and she opens for it, but I slip it into my own mouth at the last second and laugh as she growls in frustration. “You’re a brute,” she says, grabbing onto my hair and pulling my mouth against hers. She licks the sweet icing from my lip as she kisses me, and I taste it on her tongue.

We kiss for a long time, her pulling me closer and tighter against her body as I try not to rut against her with the counter edge digging into her back. When we come up for air, panting, Samantha scrambles for the cake. “I’m starving,” she says, a mouthful already wedged in her cheek.

“I’ve got something I can feed you.” I grin and grab the fork from her, taking my time as I eat my own bite. She laughs and reaches for my pants, yanking the zipper down. “I wasn’t serious, but obviously I’m not gonna say no.”

She shakes her head. “I just want to squeeze it a little.” Her hand is warm and fits around me expertly, sending shivers of pleasure up my spine. She strokes my length with one hand, using the other to feed herself chocolate cake while I try not to pass out. “You should take off your shirt,” she commands, and the second I do, she dots chocolate frosting on my chest.

I glance down, awestruck as she licks my skin. Her tongue is warm and soft, swirling along my nipple. I snatch at the fork, promising myself just one more bite before I get down to the business of making her come. I want her to remember tonight, both because we vowed to stay with each other, for always, and also because I’ll make her orgasm so hard she sees stars and names the constellations in our honor.

“God, I love you,” I breathe into her ear. I ease a hand up her blouse, untucking the neatly tailored shirt from one of those pencil skirts that drive me insane with the urge to yank them up over her hips while I drive into her. “You turn me into a feral, sex-crazed monster.”

She shakes her head. “No. A hairy wolf. My beast.”

Damn right I’m yours, I think, yanking down her own zipper and grunting as I shove the skirt to the ground. It pools at her feet as I get to work on her buttons. She’s tugging at my pants, too, and soon, the two of us are naked in the kitchen with chocolate frosting smeared on our skin.

I duck my head to draw one of her nipples into my mouth, my fingers gently teasing the other as she moans. I can’t be certain, but I think she’s continuing to eat cake as I work her sensitive breasts. When I glance up at her, the smug, satisfied look on her face confirms my suspicions. “Dis is hot,” she says, around a mouthful.

I drop to my knees, trailing kisses along her belly. I hear a clatter as she drops the fork, her fingers darting into my hair as my mouth approaches her folds. I reach in with my thumbs, gently pushing her legs wider, pressing kisses to the tops of her legs as she yanks on my hair just past the edge of comfort. “AJ,” she breathes, and then pants when I lick her long and deep.

I chase her moans with my tongue, feasting on my Samantha until I feel her clench around the finger I slip inside her. I press a thumb against her clit and glance up, staring at her beautiful face as she comes, her body shuddering and her hand slapping against my head, letting me know she’s feeling too sensitive for me to carry on like this.

I rock back on my heels and she sinks to the ground with me, shoving me onto the tile floor as she climbs on top of me. I weave our fingers together on either side of my head, smiling. “Am I a fiancée?” She smiles and squeezes my hands as I nod, and we laugh together on the floor, naked and crumb-covered. “Are you going to fuck your fiancée?” Samantha grins wickedly and pulls her hands free, one of them wrapping around my cock again, this time with more intention.

I moan as she squeezes my balls with her other hand, adjusting her weight so she sits on my thighs, staring at me. “I’m so wet for you right now, AJ. I think we can do it just like this.”

My brows shoot up and I shift my weight onto my forearms, glancing down just in time to see her lower herself fully on my swollen shaft. “Holy shit, Samantha. Holy fuck.” She slides right onto me, slick and soft, and she rolls her hips as I sink back flat on my back. “Does this hurt your knees?”

“Shh,” she chides, pinching my nipple and then resting her palms flat on my chest as she rides me. We’ve made love a thousand times, and every time I forget how incredible it feels. How she always finds a new way to bring me pleasure.

“I need to kiss you,” I grunt, and she leans forward to oblige me. Our mouths connect and it’s like the first time all over again. Wild, desperate. “I need you, Samantha. So much.”

I dig my hands into her ass cheeks, feeling her powerful muscles as she moves on top of me. “I need you, too, Adriel.”

Oh, shit. When she uses my full name, I know she’s close. Samantha reaches for my hand and brings it to her stomach. I follow her lead and slide my thumb between our bodies, circling her bundle of nerves with gentle pressure as she moans and the curtain of her hair draws sparks along my chest.

I grit my teeth, trying desperately not to come before she does. I’m overcome by emotion as my future wife grinds her pelvis against me, squeezing my cock from root to tip inside her wet heat. “Oh, Adriel, I’m coming,” she pants, and I feel it as she does. I feel the rhythmic pulsing as she shudders and jerks on top of me.

“I’m coming, too.” I stiffen, feeling a knot of pleasure burst from me, spurting and scorching, again and again as we moan on the floor.

Finally, panting, Samantha rolls to the floor. “Mmm,” she says, blowing a stray hair from her eyes.

“Mmm,” I agree, closing my eyes, inches away from sleep.

“I can’t reach the cake,” she whispers, tapping her fingers on my shoulder as I glance up at the counter.

“Ungh.” I can’t summon the energy to help her, not after that.

She tugs on my chest hair and I yelp, pressing my hand over hers, but not opening my eyes. “If you really loved me, you’d stand up and get me the cake.”

I sigh. Resigned. And when I stand to get the cake, she swats me on the ass, causing me to drop the dessert.

Both of us stare at the remnants of the cake on the tile floor where she just fucked me senseless. “It’s still good,” she whispers, reaching for it.

I sink back down and dip a finger into the frosting. “Totally.”

CHAPTER SIX

SAMANTHA

I WILL NOT ASK Lyra if I can call about rushing the test results. I will not pull rank and jump the queue. But I also might die of anticipation waiting to find out if AJ or I have any of the things we checked on the list of test possibilities. The company uses exome sequencing. I know enough about the process to be annoying—it should take just a few hours to complete and their software makes generating the report an easy process. And yet I have no email.

I run over the list of things I can do to distract myself while I wait. I could finish debugging the code on our newest Vinea product. I could go mentor an intern. I could work out with Piper at her gym or hire her to come teach a class here at Vinea. I make a note about that last one.

I decide I’ll pace around my office listening to one of Chloe’s new audiobooks. She found a super sexy narrator for this latest steamy historical romance installment, and all the Foof gals say this is the best one yet.

But listening to that gravely baritone makes me think about cake sex on the floor with my fiancé, so I turn off the audiobook and give up the ghost.

“I’m going home,” I announce to the hallway. I laugh when I get no response from my declaration. I shake my head and drive to Franklin Middle School across town, where my grumpy, hairy wolf-man should be finishing up his last class of the day.

He no longer gets quite as upset when I show up at his workplace, but I’ve also learned not to interrupt him in the middle of class. I press the button for the intercom and once I’m inside, I make my way up to AJ’s science lab. I seem to have arrived after the students left for the day, and it’s oddly silent as my heels click along the hall.

I hear voices from the teachers’ lounge and I hang back, smiling when I recognize the voices of AJ’s friends Doug and Leo. “It looks like crap, dude,” Leo says.

“Totally agree. She cannot wear that.” Doug, shaking his head in disgust, walks into the hall and I wave. He grins and rushes toward me with open arms. “I hear congratulations are in order!”

I shrug. “Someone had to marry him, right?” He laughs and I step into the lounge. “Got a minute for your hot fiancée?”

Leo bursts out laughing and gives me a side hug. “Good to see you, Sam. Congratulations.”

AJ sits at a table, his hands clasped, smiling at me through his beard. “Hey.”

I pull out the cafeteria-style chair opposite from him and sit down. “I’m going crazy waiting for these test results,” I say by way of greeting.

“Babe, it’s only been two days.”

I nod. “I know, but the app thing says they received the samples. Have you been checking?”

He grins. “I checked once this morning. I figured you’d burst into my classroom if there were news.”

I mock a horrified expression. “I would never do such a thing.” We both laugh and I peer down at his hands, still oddly clasped. “What was Doug saying I cannot wear?”

His cheeks turn pink in the small space between the top of his beard and the frame of his glasses. “Oh. Well.” He waves a hand, clenching the other into a fist. “You know, we didn’t get you a ring yet.”

I arch a brow. “Maybe I was going to get you a ring. Did you think of that?”

He shakes his head. “I had not considered that, no.”

“Spill it, Trachtenberg.” I pat his fist, which he opens, revealing a lumpy brown…thing. “What is that?”

He sighs. “I tried to make you a ring in the metal shop.”

“This place has metal shop?” I look around the tiny lounge, stuffed with boxes and teachers’ materials.

“Nah. But we were visiting some of the career tech spaces and I asked one of the kids to show me some things.” He shrugs. “It wasn’t ever going to be your forever ring.”

“Let me see it.” He slides the ring toward me and I pick it up. I can tell he’s used brushed copper and I squint at the design. “Is that a vine? For me?” He nods as I spin the ring. “Oooh, and a double helix! For science. Is that you? Are we the vine and the helix?” AJ nods and I spring from my seat, climbing into his lap and kissing his cheeks. “It’s ugly and I love it.”

As AJ smiles quietly, I try to slide it on my hand, but it’s much too large for even my thumb. “Maybe it can be a napkin ring,” he whispers, but I shake my head.

“I’ll get a chain for it and wear it around my neck.”

“That sounds perfect.”

“You’re perfect.” He leans in to kiss me but stops when someone clears their throat in the doorway. “Ah. Hey, boss.” AJ pats my leg, but I don’t rise, until I see Kellie Vinelli, principal, standing in the doorway.

I climb to my feet sheepishly, but she smiles. “I heard a rumor that Mr. Trachtenberg was making engagement rings in metal shop this afternoon!” Endlessly perky, AJ’s boss approaches with a smile on her face. I nod and hold up the ring, like a hobbit showing it off to the elves. “A very hearty congratulations!”

“Thank you,” AJ says, and he seems like he wants to say more, but both of us whip our heads toward my phone when it pings.

“Oh my gosh. Results!” I squeal and reach for the phone. Kellie Vinelli gathers some papers from the photocopier, but AJ grabs my hand and tugs me from the room down the hall and into his classroom.

“Let’s look,” he pants, closing the door and gesturing at my phone. I nod and open the email.

“Samantha Vine, prothrombin mutation…not present. Not present!” I scan the list. “Not present. AJ! I don’t have any of these things.” I hold the phone toward him and I feel like I’m going to sink into the floor, but he wraps his arm around me and rests his chin against the top of my head as he stares at the screen. “You’re genetically absent,” he says. “There’s a better joke in there but I haven’t found it yet.”

“It’s okay.” I lean against him, breathing in time with him, slowly in and out. I don’t have any of the markers. None of the wonky proteins. None of the issues that led to my mother’s death. “I’m okay,” I say, quieter.

“You’re more than okay.” AJ runs his fingers through my hair and I slide the too-big ring around my thumb before I squeeze his hand. When he says it, I believe him.

CHAPTER SEVEN

AJ

SATURDAY MORNING, Samantha and I drive to pick up my Bubbe for services. I told her to expect us a little early, since I want to share our news with her in person and I don’t want her to pass out on the steps of the synagogue.

When I find a spot outside her building, she’s sitting on a bench in the shade, bundled in a fur stole, which makes Samantha cackle. “What’s all this about, Adriel? I could be inside!”

I pat her hand as I sit down next to her on the bench. “You could have waited inside, Bubs. We would have come up.” She waves a hand at me and and I squeeze it in mine. “I have happy news for you.”

Bubbe clutches at her chest. “You’re having a baby? Oh, oh, oh, this is the best day! My Adriel is giving me great-grandbabies!”

Samantha laughs as she squeezes onto the bench on the other side of my grandmother. “No babies, Mrs. Trachtenberg. Something better.” Sam winks.

Bubbe squishes her facial features inward. “What’s better than babies?”

I shrug. “Sam and I are getting married. Will that do?”

Bubbe chuckles and puts a gnarled hand on each of our knees. “Not as good as babies. But I’ll take it. Mazel tov, Adriel. Mazel tov, Samantha.” She leans in to kiss us, her fur tickling my neck. “Did you tell your father yet?”

I shake my head. “You’re the first in the family to know, Bubs.”

She claps her hands conspiratorially. “Just wait until I see the look on Rose Ackerman’s face when I tell her! My AJ is marrying a billionaire inventor.”

Samantha shrugs. Bubbe isn’t far off from the truth, although it does no good to correct her that it’s Sam’s company which is worth a billion bucks, if not my fiancée herself. The three of us wedge into my Honda Fit, Sam insisting on the back seat as Bubbe’s fur takes up the majority of the space up front next to me.

We drive to the synagogue as Samantha babbles happily about the genetic testing results. “It’s such a relief to know I’m not predisposed to an embolism, you know? Not that I’ll stop getting physicals.”

“Of course not,” Bubbe chides. “You have to look after yourself.”

“We didn’t get AJ’s results back yet, but I’m sure there’s nothing there we’ll need to worry about.”

“AJ’s results? What do you mean?” Bubbe frowns and looks at me as I downshift at a red light.

I shrug. “We both did the tests. I don’t have family history that I know about…but it never hurts to be sure.”

“Hmm.” Bubbe nods and taps on the dash. “There’s always that Tay-Sachs you hear about. Didn’t Rabbi Green say something about Tay-Sachs?”

I frown, pulling out when the light changes. “Wouldn’t Mom and Dad have gotten tested for that when they had me?”

“Pah!” Bubbe pounds on the dash. “They had no insurance then. Your father was a resident.”

My parents are the nurse and doctor for a neighborhood medical clinic. It hadn’t occurred to me that they’d skip out on such basic prenatal screening. We’re Russian Jews—we are the most likely to carry the debilitating disease. “Not even when they got pregnant with Avi?”

My grandmother shrugs. “You know how it is when people are busy.”

I drag a hand through my hair and meet Samantha’s eyes in the rearview mirror. She clenches her jaw and I see her fiddling with her phone in her lap. “Nothing yet,” she whispers as I turn to face her so I can back into a parking spot near the temple steps.

The three of us make our way inside, Bubbe spouting the news of our engagement with every step. By the time the cantor begins to sing, I’ve forgotten to worry about my test results.

THE RELIEF from my worry is short-lived. In between coffee hour and brunch at my parents’ house, Samantha squeezes my shoulder from the back seat of the car. “Results,” she whispers, as Bubbe cheerfully relives her glory moments telling the entire congregation about our impending nuptials. I nod and glance at my grandmother. Samantha shrugs.

Much as I’d like to figure this stuff out in private, I know there’s no escaping my family, regardless of what the kit discovered. “Go ahead,” I say to Sam, and Bubbe turns around in her seat.

“Go ahead what?”

Samantha clicks around on her phone and bites her lip. “Oh, AJ.” I pull over and turn around to face her. “You’re a carrier. For Tay-Sachs.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

SAMANTHA

I CAN’T BELIEVE how calmly AJ is handling this news. He took a few breaths after I told him and, as his grandmother began freaking out, he said he wanted to continue on to his parents’ house to discuss this as a family.

So here we are, wedged onto the sectional sofa with his sister on video chat as Bubbe squawks and his parents sigh and frown a lot.

Dr. Trachtenberg holds up both palms in a gesture of surrender. “The good news is that nobody actually has Tay-Sachs disease,” he says, and when AJ’s mom opens her mouth, he adds, “Nobody in this family. None of the Trachtenbergs.”

“And Samantha wouldn’t be a carrier,” Avi adds, her voice a little tinny as it emits from the cell phone propped up on AJ’s giant, uneaten bagel.

“That’s true!” Dr. Trachtenberg gets excited about this. “You can have all the babies you want and not worry…about that specific issue.”

AJ squeezes my leg as Bubbe fans herself in relief. “Well, then, what’s all the fuss?”

I watch as AJ’s family members all seem to figure out the concern at the same time. “Avi needs to get tested, Bubs,” AJ tells her. “She could be a carrier, too.”

“I could always marry a gentile like AJ’s doing,” she mutters and I can’t help myself. I burst out laughing. The mood is contagious, and soon the six of us are howling in the living room, startling the cat, who gets tangled in Bubbe’s fur where it’s draped over the back of an armchair.

Avi promises to call her doctor on Monday and the rest of us retreat to the dining room for food. Mrs. Trachtenberg pulls out a bottle of wine, declaring it a necessity for today. “To AJ and Samantha,” she says, raising her glass.

“L’chaim,” AJ’s dad shouts, his voice forceful.

I look to AJ for a translation. “To life,” he whispers, and it resonates powerfully. We drink to the life he and I are about to forge together, to a life we could potentially create in the future. To life persisting despite a typo in AJ’s genetic code.

BACK AT OUR HOUSE, AJ retreats to the office to work on his lesson plans for the week. Based on the muttering I hear, I can tell he’s going to talk with the students about punnet squares and recessive genes. I hear him shouting “blue eyes!” And “tongue rolling!” As if he’s trying to list some benign traits he can map with his middle schoolers.

I burrow into the couch with my laptop and start a deep dive into the published literature on Tay-Sachs disease.

I learn that while Jewish people are most likely to carry it, the fatal disorder is also found in French Canadians and Irish Americans. I work myself into a frenzy reading about what Avi might expect if she gets pregnant with a partner who is also a carrier. She’d have to travel to access the kind of healthcare she’d need to terminate a pregnancy if the baby tested positive. And I’m not even sure what states still allow embryo testing if she decided to go the IVF route.

I slam the laptop shut and take deep breaths. I can’t solve society’s problems today. I can’t magically make it so that everyone has access to gold standards of medical care. I’ve worked on these sorts of mantras in therapy before.

The legal counsel at Vinea asked me to hold up on personal charitable contributions to research fields, and my body physically itches to ignore this advice. But I think about all the employees who count on our company and all the good we are doing in streamlining the world of scientific research.

I’m panicking because I’m going through something scary, and I’m a little helpless. I feel myself wanting to solve, to go and go and go until I figure out some way to help.

After a few more deep breaths, I open the laptop and research some more.

“Aha!” I spring from the couch, laptop in hand, and run toward AJ’s office, where I find him leaning over the desk with reams of graph paper. “Babe, I told you, the students can use their tablets and chart those recessive traits on their Vinea sites. Then they can share and graph the data!”

He waves a hand at me and continues outlining punnet squares. I roll my eyes. “Anyway, guess what I found?” He grunts without looking up. “There’s a company researching gene therapy for Tay-Sachs. And they’re not currently a client.”

He pauses and turns to look at me, squinting. “What did you do?”

I bite my lip. “Nothing yet. But I’m going to go and call Lyra.”

“It’s a weekend, Samantha. She made rules about this.”

“I’ll go in late on Monday,” I lie. He shakes his head and leans back over his desk as I back out of the room and dial my CEO.

“Samantha Vine, it’s a weekend,” she chirps. “This better be a social call.”

“Would it help if I invited you for drinks?”

AN HOUR LATER, seated at the bar in Bridges and Bitters, I’ve bought Lyra a pitcher of Purgatory and promised to drive her home once she’s tipsy. “Okay, hear me out.” I tell her about the gene therapy research, a small project mostly funded by Jewish nonprofits.

Lyra squints at her glass. “This really is the most remarkable green color,” she coos, taking another sip before setting her glass down on the bar. She sighs and turns toward me. “I hear you, babe. You want to give them free access to our software. You want them to share their datasets with other researchers who can use these techniques and apply them toward other diseases.” I nod vigorously.

“This is why I created the company,” I tell her. “I want my software to help researchers find trends and correlations, to forecast their work.”

Lyra scowls at me. “You don’t have to tell me the mission of the company, Sam.”

“Sorry.” I fold my hands in my lap and gesture for her to continue.

“My hesitation is not because I don’t love the idea. I just feel like this needs to be a conversation we have with our chief finance officer, too.”

I perk up at that. “Oh, should I call Logan? She’s probably—“

“Samantha. It’s a weekend. Remember our talks about letting our brains and bodies rest? To give fuel to your best ideas…”

I nod. “Right. I’m working on it.”

Lyra pours me some of her drink and slides it to me. “It sounds like maybe you got some test results. From the new client?”

I raise my glass and tell her about my negative findings, about AJ’s positive ones. “Can you believe his parents are doctors and they didn’t get tested when his mom was pregnant with him?”

Lyra nods. “People skip all kinds of things when it’s not covered by insurance.” She jabs me in the chest with her index finger. “We are not delving into the world of insurance coverage at Vinea. That’s outside our scope of work.”

I laugh. “Noted.”

She takes another swig of her drink and gives Esther a thumbs up before chewing on the end of her drink stirrer. “Does AJ get that you dive in like this because you’re scared? And you love him? And all that?”

I nod. “Yeah. We both know I bury myself in proactive tasks when I’m upset. He’s doing the same thing, though. Revamping his lesson plans and teaching his kids all about recessive traits. I caught him drawing out grids by hand. By hand, Lyra.”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s like he doesn’t remember that his bride-to-be runs a cloud-based data management company.”

“Thank you! That’s what I thought.” We clink glasses and enjoy our Purgatory until it’s clear I need to call AJ to drive us both home.

CHAPTER NINE

AJ

One Year Later

“YOU ALMOST READY?” I glance at Samantha in the mirror as I try in vain to assemble my bowtie. She is, of course, stunning in a green gown, her blonde hair in waves draped over one shoulder. I know she’s wearing makeup because I watched her put some on, but I can’t tell what she did. All I know is she looks stunning. Perfectly poised to take the stage and accept a well-deserved award.

And I’ll be there cheering for her, if I can ever get myself into this tuxedo.

“Let me help you,” she purrs, reaching around my shoulders from behind. Her heels are high enough that her head is almost level with mine, and I like this new perspective of us. I inhale, sniffing her as she adjusts the silk around my neck. “There. Now nobody can tell you’re a hairy wolf-man under all that tailored material.”

I rub at the back of my neck, where the barber gave me a tight shave an hour before. “Depending how long this show lasts tonight, I think they’ll all see fur sprouting from my collar.”

Sam shakes her head. “Nope. It’s a secret pelt, all for me.”

She laughs and gestures her head toward the hotel door. Three months ago, her company expanded their free software access to all nonprofit researchers, not just students. In record time, gene therapy researchers began to share data with one another.

We make our way through the lobby and into the limo outside for the short drive to the award venue. I drape an arm over Samantha’s shoulders and she turns to face me, her hand pressed to my chest. “We’re here because I love you,” she says.

I arch a brow.

She sighs. “I mean that…because I love you, I wanted to solve a problem that affects you. When we got the test results, I was terrified.”

I kiss her knuckles. “I know you were, babe. I’m scared, too. But I’ve got you looking out for me.” I try to lighten the mood with a joke, and I think it works.

“I was so scared I’d get sick and die and leave you, or I’d get sick and you’d leave.”

“You’re stuck with me and my graph paper.”

She sighs. “It’s really so inefficient, AJ. We’ve talked about the importance of version control.” I smile and squeeze her hip and she leans her head on my shoulder.

“I can’t add the missing protein to someone with Tay-Sachs disease, but I wanted to help the people who do know how to do that.”

I run my fingers gently through her hair, careful not to mess up her curls. “You did help them. You put them all in touch with each other.”

“But I did it for you.”

“Not just for me. Right?”

She shrugs. “Mostly for you.”

INSIDE THE VENUE, I sit at our table near the front. I shake hands with brilliant researchers from around the world. I tell all of them, proudly, that I teach science in an urban public middle school. I gather their business cards to connect them with curious students for informational interviews.

Oh, and I brag that my fiancée is the guest of honor. Yes, I’m here with Samantha Vine. That Samantha Vine. The one I can’t wait to marry.

She takes the stage and begins to share her story, how she developed Vinea from her dorm room in college after realizing how many scientists were emailing spreadsheets back and forth to each other. My heart swells with pride as I listen to the laughter and applause around the room, and tears well in my eyes as photographers swarm Samantha when she’s handed her award.

One by one, scientists studying cancer and ALS and sickle cell disease come onto the stage and talk about the collaborations made possible by Vinea’s software. It’s an emotional ceremony that ends in a standing ovation.

A gray-haired woman in glasses leans in from the next table to whisper, “That’s quite a lady you’ve got there.”

“I definitely agree.” Even I struggle to be grouchy surrounded by all this brilliance and hope.

I feel a tug on my arm and turn to see Samantha at my side, wearing her coat, holding a plate wrapped in foil. “Let’s get out of here,” she whispers.

I frown and look around the room, where people are practically shoving one another to access her. “You’re the guest of honor, babe. Don’t you want to schmooze?”

Samantha grins and shakes the plate at me. “I want to eat cake, Adriel.”

My mouth forms an oh as I realize what she’s got under the foil. I have no idea how, in the middle of an elegant ceremony, she managed to procure a paper plate of cake wrapped in foil, but Samantha Vine has proved more than once that she can move mountains—of people, of data, and of emotions.

I let her tug my hand through the crowd, out into the crisp night, and down the sidewalk toward the hotel. “We’re just going to walk?”

She shakes her head. “We’re going to jog. And then we’re going to eat cake in the tub.”

I halt in my tracks. “The tub? At the hotel?”

She nods and pulls me forward again. “I thought about it, and the tub is the best option. You can feed me cake and wash my hair. Oooh, and massage my feet.”

“I’m beginning to like how you think.” I adjust my pants as I hurry to follow her down the street.

A few breathless blocks later, I fish the room key from my tux jacket and brace myself as she flings her body into my arms the second the hotel door clicks open.

“Samantha Vine,” I whisper as she yanks off my clothes, “I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Read the start of AJ and Samantha’s love story in Fireball, book one in the Bridges and Bitters series.

About the Author

Lainey Davis is rust-belt writer living in Pittsburgh with her 3 feral sons, 2 rescued rabbits, and 1 tired husband. Her books feature broody heroes, feisty heroines, hilarious antics, and sizzling heat. Find her at laineydavis.com or on social media @authorlaineydavis.

CARDIO

LARAMIE BRISCOE

“C’MON, KARI. REALLY?” Caleb groans as I walk into the living room.

“What?” I grin.

“You know what, I can’t believe you’re going to wear that.” He puts a hat on his head and reaches down to grab the car seat holding his three-month-old sister.

“It’s true.” I give him a smirk as I gaze down at the shirt I’m wearing.

Your dad is my cardio.

It’s written obnoxiously across my chest. Mason cracked up the first time he’d seen it and loves when I wear it.

“Alright, just gotta grab her diaper bag and the food we’re bringing.” I look around, making sure I have everything.

“I’ll help you.” Mason leans down to kiss my cheek, sliding his hand around my waist and down to squeeze my ass.

Caleb rolls his eyes. “I’m taking Kels out to the Jeep, we’ll wait on you. She’s too young to see this shit. Y’all better not take longer than ten minutes either. Longer than that, and we’re gone.”

I laugh as I watch the two of them walk out of the house. “We should screw with him, take eleven minutes, at least.”

He leans down nuzzling my neck with his nose. “You smell good.”

“I was able to take a shower earlier since Caleb’s here. A long shower. I was able to do everything I used to do before she was born.”

Mason’s arms tighten around me. “I’m sorry I haven’t been here as much as I should’ve been.”

“No, it’s not that at all.” I assure him.

“I know what you’re doing.” His voice is soft. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

Pulling back, he tilts my chin with the tips of his fingers. “You do know what I’m talking about, and if you’re not willing to admit it, I’m going to spell it out for you.”

I close my eyes and inhale deeply, before opening them and looking into those deep pools of honey staring back at me. “Why don’t you enlighten me?”

“You think you’re making things easier on me by making things harder on yourself.” He cups my face in his palms. “I see you, every night, making sure not to wake me up. You take every changing and feeding, never wanting to inconvenience me, to the point of running yourself ragged. You don’t do half the things you used to. Things I know that made you happy, that you needed to feel good about yourself.”

I hold up my hand to stop him. “I didn’t think you noticed.”

He gives me a smirk. “Is there anything I don’t notice about you, Rina? I mean, c’mon.”

“I can’t lie.” The emotion is overwhelming me. At what point do you stop having this post-partum bullshit? “I do worry about you. The first couple of weeks you were home with me and didn’t have to go to work? It was okay. The day you went back to work, it changed.”

“I know it did, but I want you to tell me exactly why it happened.”

Turning slightly away from him, I breathe deeply and do my best to explain not only what I’ve been feeling, but what I’ve been fearing too. I do my best to keep it together, but I fail, like they have so many times since I had the baby, my emotions get the better of me. Tears are already falling, and it’s hard to press the words out of my thick throat.

“The night you walked out the door, into the unknown, I got scared.”

“Rina,” he whispers. “You’ve never been scared before.”

“There was no reason for me to.” I wipe at my nose. “Caleb? He knows who you are. He knows everything about you. Me? I’ve come to know the man you are. I’ve been lucky to be loved by you. Some people never got that, not at all in their lifetimes. We’d be devastated, don’t get me wrong. Absolutely devastated if we couldn’t live the rest of our lives with you. But we’ve been able to Ie it.” I run my fingers under my eyes. “My fear now? It’s that when you step out that door to go to work, you won’t be coming back. Or if you do come back, you won’t be the person you were before.”

“Babe…” He cups my cheek with is palm.

“No, let me finish. Don’t belittle my worrying. I’m allowed to worry about you, just like you are about me. As a cop, you have a target on your back. People want to try you; they want to prove you aren’t the good guy I know you are.”

“That’s true,” he concedes. “But I’m used to it, I can keep my cool.”

“You can, but can they? Mason, I will sit here at night and watch body cam videos of officers who are surprised on traffic stops, home invasion calls, or whatever. Sometimes they can’t react quick enough. That split second changes their lives forever. Some of those officers don’t go home to their families. They can’t ever make another memory. Kelsea isn’t old enough to remember anything yet. There’s a video of her birth, some videos we’ve taken around the house and a couple handfuls of pictures.” I cry.

“C’mere.” He pulls me into his arms, holding onto me tightly.

I keep speaking. “So, I don’t want to bother you. I’d rather sit up and take all the feedings, diaper changes, and colicky nights. I don’t want you tired. What if you’re so sleep-deprived you miss one of the signs? I will never be able to live with myself if something happens to you and I could’ve prevented it.”

He sighs, letting me go from his embrace. Turning away from him, I gasp. “Shit.” I swipe at the tears rolling down my cheeks. “My milk is coming in. I haven’t had a chance to pump today. Every time I get emotional.”

Holding onto my boobs, I run through the house, breaching our bedroom. He’s hot on my heels. “You’re not running away from this conversation.”

“Look big guy, I’m not running away from you. My fucking boobs are going to leak. I really like this new bathing suit, and I don’t want it to stain, okay?”

Hurrying into the bathroom, I grab the Elvie system out, putting them on as quickly as I can, sighing when I feel the relief of the pressure in my chest.

“Your face almost looks orgasmic and it’s distracting the fuck outta me, Rina.”

“Keep it in your shorts. Caleb already thinks we’re in here, screwing.”

Walking out, I have a seat on the bed.

“Well maybe we should give him something to talk about.” Mason leans down, cupping my chin with his hand.

Leaning down, he brushes his lips with mine. I allow myself to lean into the kiss for a brief moment, and then I pull back. “We can head out; these can work while we’re driving. They don’t make a sound.”

“No, we’re not leaving yet. First, I wanna talk to you about your decision to keep me safe.”

I groan, knowing this isn’t the discussion I want to have.

“Nope, you’re gonna listen to me. It’s important. Since the moment we started dating, we’ve done things as a team. For you to keep me out of your plan isn’t cool, and there’s a better way for this to work, okay?”

“I’m listening.”

“I appreciate what you’ve been doing for me. God, I love you so much. You have no idea how often I think about you on-shift, how you and the kids are the last thing that goes through my mind as I’m about to breach a door. Every time I get out of my patrol SUV to run a license plate, or to check on someone who’s stopped on the side of the road, I shoot a little prayer up that I’m able to come home to you all. On those nights when things aren’t busy, I go through my phone. I look at those videos and pictures, committing them to my memory. Praying that I’ll be able to come home and make more. I worry every day when you go into the school to teach your classes. I run active school shooter drills every quarter, Rina. We both have dangerous jobs. I could lose you as easily as you could lose me.”

My hands grip his. I hadn’t realized how much my situation might be affecting him. “We’re trying to protect each other, huh?”

“We are, and I worry about you going in, being tired, too. Those times when you get there early to meet with students, how do I know you aren’t walking into an ambush? When you stay late to meet with parents, how do I know one of them isn’t going to take their kids bad grade out on you? Every fucking day, I wait for that call on the way home, Rina.”

“I love you,” I whisper.

“I love you too, which is why here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna take turns with her from now on. If I’ve had a rough night at work, I’ll let you know I can’t handle it. If you have a rough day, you let me know. We need to be a team; the team we’ve always been good at being. Just because we have Kels doesn’t mean we should change that. Being the couple who can pivot and do what needs to be done to be here for our family. That’s where we excel. Let’s not make our lives more complicated by trying to keep the bad parts away from each other. Deal?”

Leaning up on my toes, I kiss him along his jawline. “Deal. Now let’s get outta here. By the time we get to Ryan and Whitney’s I’ll be done with this,” I motion to my chest. “Which means, there’s gonna be milk for Kels, and I’ll be able to pump and dump.”

“Ohh,” he palms my ass. “Does that mean we get tipsy Rina tonight?”

“Sure does, and you know what happens when Whitney and I get together.”

“I seem to remember the two of you and some chair dancing at one point a month before we got married.”

“Who knows? You might remember it again tonight if you’re lucky.”

“C’mon.” He grabs my hand and together we head out to the driveway.

Walking me around to the passenger side, he opens the door, making sure I’m in before shutting it. For just a moment, I allow myself to watch as he struts around the front of the vehicle, all sexy and in control of everything. It’s one of my favorite things about him.

When he gets in, Caleb makes a noise.

“It’s about time y’all made it.”

“Since I’m driving,” Mason looks back at Caleb. “You can wait as long as you have to.”

“Should’ve brought my truck,” Caleb groans again.

I know it’s going to make him crazy if we sit here and don’t do anything. Mason knows too. He makes a huge deal out of checking his mirrors and adjusting the radio.

“What were you two doing in there for so long? It was longer than ten minutes.” Caleb asks from where he sits next to Kels.

“Exactly like my shirt says, my cardio.” I giggle as he groans.

“The first thing you need to realize, Kels,” he says as he leans over her car seat, “Is that our parents are going to embarrass the fuck out of you.”

Laughing at the way he says it, I reach over, and grab Mason’s hand. He turns to give me a wink, and with a smile on both our faces, we head to the cookout we’re attending at the Kepler’s. The sky is blue, the sun is shining, and my heart is full.

The way it’s been since the moment I agreed to meet Mason for dinner off a dating app. Who knew that one jump, one chance that I might not have taken, would change our lives forever.

If you would like to read the original story with this couple, you can do so here.

About the Author

Laramie Briscoe is the USA Today and Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author of over 40 books, with sales of over half a million copies.

Since self-publishing her first book in May of 2013, Laramie has appeared on the Top 100 Bestselling E-books Lists on iBooks, Amazon Kindle, Kobo, and Barnes & Noble. Her books have been known to make readers laugh and cry. They are guaranteed to be emotional, steamy reads.

When she’s not writing alpha males who seriously love their women, she loves spending time with friends, reading, and marathoning shows on Netflix. Married to her high school sweetheart, Laramie lives in Bowling Green, KY with her husband.

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HER DARK PRINCE

LAURA HALL

I RELEASED the woman’s hands and smiled. “You’ll be pregnant within the year.”

With a cry of joy, she flung herself at her husband. Over her shoulder, the husband mouthed thank you at me, tears in his eyes. I nodded, emotion clogging my throat as I tugged on my gloves.

I delivered a lot of bad news to clients, so it was a nice change to make someone’s day. A part of me wanted to tell them the rest—that they’d have twin boys—but I decided to let the universe deliver that surprise.

Besides, they’d only paid my flat rate.

Giving them space to celebrate, I slipped out of the small room where I did readings and into the main area of my shop, Alder & Rue. My part-time employee, Christopher, looked up from refilling our stock of sage, palo santo, and cleansing stones.

“How’d it go?” he asked.

“Really good.” I glanced around the empty store, then at my watch. “I thought I had an eight o’clock.”

“Oh, sorry. They called a few minutes ago and cancelled.”

I sighed, unsurprised. While on paper my services were booked solid for the next two years, the reality was that one out of every three clients chickened out. Though I happily kept their deposits, I couldn’t really fault them. Usually people turned to me in times of crisis or personal struggle, desperate to know what the future held. But by the time their appointment rolled around however many months later, the storms in their lives had passed. Optimism in the future restored, they cancelled their reading.

No one wanted to know the future when they were convinced it would be perfect.

A few minutes later, the couple emerged, arm in arm and beaming. We exchanged goodnights and they left. Less than a minute later, as I was preparing to settle the cash register for the day, the bell over the door chimed. I looked up to see the husband. Still teary-eyed, he strode to me and pressed a wad of cash into my hand. When I started to protest—they’d already paid in full and left a tip—he insisted.

“Take it, please. I can’t tell you what you’ve done for us. You saved our marriage. Thank you.”

I took his money and watched him go, then felt Christopher’s gaze on my face and schooled my expression.

“Do I want to know?” he asked softly.

“No,” I answered, popping the cash drawer open. “You don’t.”

While four-hundred years of practice had given me immaculate control over my gift, allowing me to focus at will on a client’s main question or need, it didn’t mean I didn’t see more. There were always peripheral flashes, usually of events associated with the focus. In this case, I’d seen the moment when the wife, heavily pregnant, discovered her husband was having an affair.

The bell over the door chimed again.

“Welcome to Alder & Rue,” said Christopher brightly. “What can I help you—”

“I found what I need, thank you.”

The deep voice rolled over me like a thundercloud, lifting goosebumps along my arms. My head whipped up, knowing who I’d find waiting but not quite believing it.

Gabriel de Fiore, master vampire and overseer of the city’s supernatural population, was in my store. As my eyes drank him in, my heart awakened from its slumber, pushing heat to my chest and face. I could no more control my response to him than I could bring rain from the sky, though right now, I’d give my hands to feel nothing at all.

Wearing a dark charcoal suit that fit his tall, leanly muscled form to perfection, Gabriel looked about as incongruous as a dragon in a teahouse. His dark hair was longer than when I’d last seen him, tousled and brushing his collar. But everything else was the same: perfect bronzed skin, dark bristles on a jaw that could cut glass, and cheekbones women paid money for. Only his eyes were different, icy emerald instead of the soft, verdant green that—for a fleeting decade a century ago—had held me in willingly in their thrall.

“Annabelle. I require a moment of your time.”

Twelve years in this city and he’d never darkened my door. My relocation interviews had been done by others on his staff, though the approval had come from his desk. For a time, I’d thought maybe, maybe, he’d come to me. I would explain, all would be forgiven, and we could… But he hadn’t come, and it was about ten years too late for a happy reunion.

As much as I wanted to tell him where he could shove it, one did not disobey a request from the reigning master vampire. Especially with human collateral in the vicinity.

I cleared my throat and closed the cash drawer. “Christopher, you can head home.”

I watched the struggle on his young face. He thought of me as an older sister or aunt and didn’t want to leave me alone with this strange man. But he was also a little afraid of me, and the latter instinct won out.

Smart boy.

When he was gone, I rounded the counter and crossed my arms over my chest. Gabriel’s eyes flickered from my gloves to my neck to my lips, and finally to my eyes.

“What do you want?” I asked, proud of how steady my voice sounded despite the host of conflicting emotions racing through me.

After my foolish hope of reconciliation had died an ashy death, I’d come to accept I’d never be this close to him again. Close enough to touch. As a master vampire of considerable power, he happened to be on a very short list of beings I could touch barehanded. All I’d ever picked up from him was an endless starry night—usually right after multiple orgasms on both our parts.

I wondered if that had changed, too. If I touched him now, would I feel that expansive calm and sense of belonging? Probably not. I’d probably be burned by an alien desert.

It was a small comfort knowing that just as I couldn’t read him—past, present, or future—his vampire mind tricks didn’t work on me.

“I need your help,” he said, voice tight like he’d rather eat coal than be talking to me.

“Is this a request or a command?”

His eyebrows twitched up. “Whatever makes you say yes.”

“A command. Very well.” I bowed formally, knowing it would annoy him.

Scowling, Gabriel reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a thick chain with a giant red gemstone attached. Awareness sizzled down my spine. My palms tingled, almost burned.

I shook my head. “No way. I’m not touching that thing with a ten-foot pole. What demon coughed that up?”

To my surprise, his eyes softened with the barest hint of humor. “I’d never let anything happen to you.”

Our gazes clashed, mine wide, his startled like he hadn’t meant to say that. Then he doubled down.

“Tesorina, per favore.”

My little treasure. My stupid heart raced, and my even stupider libido perked up.

“Don’t call me that,” I said hoarsely.

“I’m sorry.” Gabriel sighed, his head bowing briefly. When he looked up, there was a determined glint in his eyes. “Forget the command. A hundred-thousand pounds wired into your bank account for services rendered.”

There was no way on Earth I could say no to that kind of money. I had ample savings, but relocating and rebuilding a new life cost an arm and a leg. And we both knew my time in the city was drawing to a close. Unlike most supernaturals, I chose to live my life among humans—who were terminally curious in nature. I’d already had a few regular visitors to the store ask me about my skincare routine. Before long, things would get messy. They always did.

I squinted at the ruby in his hand, wondering how much I’d regret this.

“It won’t kill me?”

“You have my word. Whatever spell is in the stone is specific to me. I just need to determine its objective.”

Ignoring the shiver in my belly from his gravelly tone and ominous words, I pulled off a glove and wiggled my fingers. “Give it over.”

He closed the distance between us warily, like I might bite him even though he was the one with fangs. Without touching me, he dropped the necklace onto my palm.

Blood poured over my sight, a liquid haze of crimson. Shadowy figures moved beyond the red curtain. I heard voices—a woman and a man.

“And you’re sure it will work?” asked the woman eagerly.

“Positive. The longer it’s in his possession, the more he’ll weaken.”

“How long?”

“A week. We’ll kill him at the soirée. I have just the poison.”

I snapped back to the present, blinking up at Gabriel’s face, so close I could see the amber flecks in his irises. He had me by the arms, supporting almost all of my weight. The necklace lay on the ground nearby like it had been slapped from my hand.

“You were going to collapse,” he said, glancing at the stone. “Are you all right?”

I released a shuddering breath and took a step back. His arms fell, hands clenching at his sides.

I nudged the ruby with my toe. “Whoever gave this to you is trying to kill you.”

He grunted. “I figured as much.”

My gaze veered to his face. “How long have you had it?”

“Six days.”

I swallowed a spike of fear and tugged on my glove. “Get rid of it. Now. I don’t know where that thing came from, but the spell reaches peak effectiveness tomorrow.”

He dragged a hand through his hair, gaze rolling the ceiling. “Merda. I thought I had more time.”

I hugged my arms to my chest. “Who gave it to you?”

He didn’t look at me. “My future fiancée. We’re due to announce our engagement tomorrow.”

After a moment of shock, I laughed to cover an embarrassingly potent swell of pain. “You really know how to pick them, don’t you?”

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed on my face. Belatedly, I remembered that even if he couldn’t read my mind, he could hear my heart, which beat alarmingly fast. Whatever my pulse was telling him now was the opposite of what I wanted it to, which was along the lines of I don’t care about you so get lost.

“A political match,” he murmured. There was an awareness in his gaze that made me shiver. “I didn’t know you still cared.”

“I don’t,” I snapped.

But my galloping heartbeat gave me away. Damnit, get a grip. Steeling myself, I turned away and stared blankly at the cash register. I still needed to reconcile it and close down the shop for the night. Then I’d think about wine and ice cream and a Downton Abbey marathon to wipe this encounter from my mind.

“Good luck with everything. I’ll expect the money in my account by morning.”

I didn’t hear him move but he was suddenly right behind me. Strong fingers slid under my arms and splayed over my stomach. A wall of muscle met my spine. His breath skated against my neck, dark head bent close to mine.

“Annabelle,” he whispered, nuzzling my skin. “I had no idea.”

My traitorous body had a mind of its own, arching into him. I should move—run far away—but I couldn’t. I’d never been able to, and not because of anything so definable as vampiric compulsion. This was how it had always been between us. The closer we were, the stronger the gravity.

“What are you doing?” I asked shakily.

His lips grazed my skin. My heart leapt as my bottom half turned molten. “Reminding you why leaving me was a mistake.”

I swallowed hard. To this day, Gabriel didn’t know why I’d packed up and left while he was away on business. He had no idea that I hadn’t wanted to go, that leaving him—living without him all these years—had been the greatest challenge of my long life. But I didn’t regret it. I’d done it to keep him and countless others safe.

I’d break my own heart a thousand more times if it meant he was safe for eternity.

The ruby teased my peripheral vision. A sinking feeling took ahold of me as foresight tickled my senses, amorphous and thick with dread. Turning in his arms, I met his gaze with effort.

“Who is the woman’s sire?”

He blinked in surprise before his gaze narrowed. “Philip Rochefort. Why?”

My skin went cold and clammy. Rochefort was the very same master vampire who’d threatened to kill me—and every human I knew and cared for—if I didn’t leave Gabriel. I hadn’t been able to read the man, but he’d given me his signet ring to touch. The memories of what that ring held still haunted me.

I was an idiot. I’d thought whatever vendetta Rochefort had toward Gabriel so long ago was ended. It had been a hundred years, and Rochefort now lived on the other side of the Atlantic ruling his own city in the United States. I’d triple-checked before moving here.

I should have known better. Vampires were the kings and queens of holding grudges.

“How long has he been trying to secure a marriage between your families?”

“What are you getting at, Annabelle?”

“Just tell me.”

His thumb grazed my cheek. “You’re afraid,” he asserted softly, then answered, “Too long. A century, maybe more.”

“He hates you.” It was a relief to finally free the words.

His lips curved wryly. “I’m well aware.”

“You don’t understand,” I said, grabbing the lapels of his suit. “He’s never going to stop, Gabe. And now he’s found a way to kill you. Why on Earth did you agree to marry his daughter?”

“I haven’t. Not yet.” His eyes studied mine. “I’m sorry, Annabelle, that it took me this long to come to see you.”

“Don’t change the subject!”

“Too late.” His fingertips trailed over my jaw, eyes darkening with a look I knew well. One that set my body humming. One I was helpless to resist.

His head lowered slowly toward mine, giving me time to deny him. But I couldn’t. Didn’t want to. I’d missed him too much and loved him still. Always.

The first brush of his firm, full lips over mine lit up every nerve in my body. A soft, needy sound escaped me, answered by a rumble of agreement in his chest. One hand slid into my loose hair, cradling the back of my head, as he deepened the kiss. My mouth opened on a gasp, inviting his tongue to slide against mine.

Strong hands swept down my arms and settled on my waist, fingers stretching up to claim the space just beneath my breasts. My nipples tightened in anticipation, but he only teased me there with slow strokes, not moving any higher, as he took decadent, deep kisses from my mouth. Every cell in my body was screaming for more. But when I gripped his shoulders, arching against him expectantly, he lifted his head.

A soft smile tilted his lips. “I didn’t wait this long to rush.” His forehead dropped to mine. “I really thought you never wanted to see me again.”

“It was him. Rochefort.” Purging the truth shot my heart into my throat and brought tears to my eyes. “He said he’d kill you, me, and every human I knew if I didn’t leave you.”

Gabriel’s head reared back, his nostrils flaring, fangs glinting behind his lips. Between one second and the next, he stood five feet away. My skin ached at the sudden loss of his touch. My chest burned with misery at the betrayal and anger in his eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded.

I shook my head helplessly. “I touched his signet ring. He meant every word. I didn’t have a choice.”

The green of his eyes bled to black. Power crackled in the air, racing like electricity over my skin, and the smell of fire smoke and wet earth filled my nose.

“Gabe, please—”

“No.” His lifted hand stalled my words. “These past hundred years have been the longest of my unnatural life. Not knowing why you left. Wondering what had changed. And now I find out you didn’t trust me enough to protect you? Do you think me so weak?”

I swallowed thickly. “I never meant to hurt you. I only did what I thought was best. I didn’t want anyone to die for me. Because of me. Least of all you.”

His stony expression didn’t change. “You always saw the humanity in me, tesorina, but how easily you’ve forgotten what I am.”

The overhead lights flickered. Darkness swirled around Gabriel and when it dissipated, he was gone. The front door swung closed, the familiar chimes sounding dull, discordant.

My heart a leaden weight in my chest, I slogged through the closing routine then trudged upstairs to my apartment. It was a cozy space, full of eclectic furnishings and bright colors. Even though it was temporary—my homes always were—I loved it and would miss it. I’d especially miss the bathroom with its antique clawfoot tub, which was the perfect remedy for a night like this. That, and a bottle or three of wine. As I dumped lavender bath salts into the swirling hot water, I chewed my lips worriedly.

Practically, I knew there was nothing I could do to help Gabriel. I wasn’t a predator. My only defense was an ability to stun with my touch and run fast when needed. Demigoddess or not, I wasn’t a fighter.

Tonight, I wished I was.

Sinking into the hot water until it covered my shoulders, I closed my eyes and tried to relax. My heart wasn’t having it and neither was my mind, which threw periodic spears of worst-case scenarios. Gabriel bleeding. Hurt. Dead.

My centuries of life normally afforded me some perspective—even detachment—when it came to death. I’d certainly watched many I’d cared for grow old and pass from this world. It was the cycle of life. Grief was a natural side-effect of love, and I wouldn’t give up one to avoid the other.

You always saw the humanity in me.

He was right, I had, but the truth was dual-edged. From our first chance meeting, Gabriel had awakened a long-dormant part of me. The part that had been young once. Excitement, anticipation, lust, tenderness, curiosity… emotions that had long since faded from my life had returned tenfold the first time our gazes locked.

He’d brought me back to my own humanity. Reopened my eyes to the divine gift within me.

And now he might die.

Tears leaked slowly from my eyes as I lifted from the now-tepid water to dry off. My dark gold hair hung in damp tendrils I didn’t bother drying. Screw the wine—all I wanted now was the oblivion of sleep. Tossing my towel on a rack, I padded naked into my bedroom.

“Hello, love.”

I screeched, a hand flying to my heart at the sight of Gabriel sprawled atop my bed, looking as comfortable as could be with his arms tucked behind his head. His suit coat lay over a nearby chair, shoes and socks on the floor by the door.

Relief nearly bucked my knees but irritation quickly eclipsed it. He knew how much I hated surprises. Ignoring the weight of his gaze on my bare skin, I snatched a robe from a hook on the bathroom door and slipped it on.

Gabriel sat up, swinging his legs to the floor. “Forgive the intrusion, but I wanted to bring you a gift.” His lips quirked. “As you know, patience has never been my strong suit.”

He held out his hand. I gasped when I saw what rested on his palm.

Rochefort’s signet ring.

“You…” My voice failed me. Belatedly, I noticed the red droplets marring his pristine white shirt.

“Yes. He’s dead. Both of them are.” He paused. “You might be required to testify before the Conclave as to what you saw when you touched the necklace.” His green eyes were wary, his shoulders tense. He was worried I’d be repulsed. That I’d judge him for taking a life.

“Put that thing down,” I said, nodding to the ring. “Wait.” I crossed to a window and pushed it open. “Throw it as far as you can.”

I barely saw his arm move, only felt a slight disturbance in the air as something sailed past me into the night. Releasing a slow breath, I closed the window and turned.

“I’m sorry I left without telling you.” Alarmingly, my lower lip quivered. But my heart was shedding its weight, growing ever more buoyant with hope.

He was at my side in a second, his gaze serious, almost solemn. “I forgive you. Do you forgive me?”

“For what?”

“For doubting that you’d never leave me willingly,” he murmured.

Before I could respond, his lips captured mine. Melting with pleasure, I sunk my fingers into his soft hair and embraced the storm he created inside me. Fingertips parted my robe and whispered over my navel. I trembled, the light touch feeling like a brand. Like possession—a reclaiming of what was his. My head fell back, loose on my neck as I submitted to his increasingly passionate kiss.

Gabriel’s strong hands smoothed over my stomach, down my hips and around to cup and squeeze my ass. I pressed into his touch, but his hands didn’t linger. They flowed up my drying back, divesting me of my robe, then closed over my aching breasts. His thumbs swept over my nipples once, twice, and they tightened eagerly. Sultry warmth pulsed through me, waves upon waves, condensing in a near-unbearable ache between my thighs.

I was home. He was home.

“Tesorina,” he whispered against my mouth.

“Yes,” I whispered back. “Yes.”

Relief and joy spread from his eyes to his mouth, which curved in a soft smile. “Don’t leave me again.”

My heart soared. “Never. I promise.”

He claimed my mouth again, our lips and tongues tangling. Overcome with need, I yanked at his belt. Never breaking the seal of our mouths, he bent back to allow our hands room to work. The buttons of his shirt popped off. His belt clattered to the floor with his pants. Finally, his naked body pressed to mine. I whimpered at the sensation, at the starry night-scape that unfolded in my peripheries. Our unique bond, triggered by our touch. I almost wept seeing and feeling it.

He was still mine. Always mine.

Wasting no time, Gabriel hiked me into his arms. My back landed gently on the bed. “Can’t wait,” he mumbled between kisses.

“Don’t.”

His fingers dipped between my legs, and he hissed at my wetness. I gasped as two fingers sunk inside me, stroking deeply before retreating. “Sweet, sweet sibyl. My tesorina. My goddess.”

“My dark prince,” I whispered.

With one smooth, powerful thrust, he filled me up and wrenched a cry from my throat. The feel of him inside me was exquisite, new and familiar at once. Our bodies instantly fell into a shattering rhythm, each undulation of our hips a note in the perfect song the two of us created, tinged with the desperation of decades of longing.

But for the first time, it wasn’t enough. I needed more. All of him.

For whatever reason—his wariness of my acceptance, my own instinctive fear—in our ten years together, he’d never once fed from me during sex. That was going to change now. I suddenly wanted it more than anything before, driven by the need for him to know there was nothing he could do, nothing about him, that would take me from him again.

Breaking our kiss, I bared my throat to him.

He stilled. “Are you sure?” he whispered, eyes wide and not a little wary.

“Yes,” I told him, tugging on his hair. “I want you inside me in all ways, Gabriel. Now and forever.”

With a groan, he drew slowly from my body, then sunk back into me fast and hard at the same time his fangs found my vein. Pleasure unlike any I’d ever known exploded under my skin, arching bright and brilliant through me. The devastating cadence of his hips never faltered as I rode the shockwaves of the most intense orgasm of my life.

Only when I relaxed fully, panting and halfway-catatonic, did I realize he was once again still, though he remained thick and hard inside me. Braced on his arms, he gazed down at me with an expression of wonder I knew was mirrored on my own face.

“Annabelle.” His voice was weak. Vulnerable. His gaze soft and questioning.

“I never stopped loving you,” I whispered.

His eyes closed briefly with the depth of his emotion. Once again, I felt the starry expanse unfold around me, his unique power and love.

Then he opened his eyes and smiled fully, an expression I’d missed with every fiber of my being the last hundred years. A dimple creased his left cheek, eyes sparkling and bright and full of love.

“Nor I you, my treasure.”

There were no more words for a long while. At least, no intelligible ones. And when he slipped away before dawn, he left me with a soul-searing kiss and a promise to return at dusk.

He made good on his promise.

We both did.

Thank you for reading!

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MARRYING THE BOSSHOLE

A BEDDING THE BILLIONAIRE STORY

LAURA LEE

RONAN

I GROANED as something warm and wet wrapped around my dick.

“Christ, this is a great dream.”

Quinn moaned, the vibration from her mouth reverberating down my shaft.

I nearly wept when that warmth disappeared.

“Good morning, Mr. Maxwell.”

What the hell?

My eyes popped open as Quinn wrapped her lips around my cock once again. I clenched her blonde hair in my fist as she bobbed up and down my length. Fuck, she gave the best head. It was the perfect blend of suction, swirling tongue, and teeth lightly raking down my cock.

My hips thrust into her mouth involuntarily as she took me in deeper. “I hope you’re ready for a hard day of work.”

She released me with a pop. “Mmm, you know me. Always eager to please the boss.” The last sentence was spoken in a breathy, Marilyn Monroe-esque tone.

I smirked. It had been over a year since Quinn had served as my executive assistant, but she would indulge me in a little role play every now and again.

Hottest. Thing. Ever.

My beautiful fiancée resumed her task with remarkable effort. You could never accuse the woman of having a shitty work ethic. I moaned when her hand joined in the action, cupping my balls. If she kept this up, I was going to bust a nut in no time.

I needed to be inside this woman, STAT. I hauled her up my body so I could reverse our positions. The moment her back hit the mattress, Quinn wrapped her toned thighs around my waist.

Her spine bowed when I slid my cock back and forth over her clit. “Why, Mr. Maxwell, you seem awfully excited to see me.”

I kissed along the graceful column of her throat, kneading her full breast in my hand. With my other hand behind the firm globes of her ass, I lifted her, sliding into her tight heat in one smooth motion. We both cursed as I pulled back before pushing forward again.

I took her lower lip between my teeth. “I’m always excited to see you, Miss Montgomery. Even when you’re a pain in my ass.”

She dug her nails into said ass, rocking against me. “You love it when I’m a pain in your ass.”

I cradled her face in my palms. “I love you.”

She smiled. “I love you, too, Ronan.”

I brushed some hair away from her forehead. “Christ, you’re beautiful.”

Quinn’s brown eyes filled with unshed tears. “You getting soft on me, boss man?”

“Does it feel like I’m getting soft on you?” I slammed into her, angling my dick in that way she loved most. “In fact, I think we’ll need to work long and hard for quite a while yet. Do you think you’re up for the challenge?”

Her eyes twinkled in amusement as she bit her bottom lip. “Show me what you’ve got, Mr. Maxwell.”

“With pleasure, Miss Montgomery.” I glided my thumb over Quinn’s swollen lips as I stilled inside of her. “I can’t wait to marry you.”

She nibbled on the pad of my thumb. “Only a few more hours to go.”

I raised into a plank position so I didn’t crush her with my weight. “You know, I’ve gotta say. I was a bit surprised you threw that whole you can’t see the bride before the wedding tradition out the window.”

Quinn quirked a perfectly sculpted brow. “And miss the opportunity to give you that wake-up call on your last day as a single man? Never.”

I laughed, something I did more often than I’d ever thought possible since I made this woman mine. I was the grumpiest asshole I knew for pretty much my entire adult life. In fact, you could say I was an insufferable prick for the first two years Quinn and I had known each other. Despite this, our chemistry was explosive, and one late night at work, we gave in to temptation right on my desk.

After that, denying how badly I wanted her was futile. That doesn’t mean I didn’t try, though, to where I almost lost her entirely. My older brother once told me the right woman could make you a better man. It seemed impossible at the time, but Quinn Montgomery made me see the light. The day she forgave me, I promised myself I would never make her regret doing so for a single moment.

“That was quite the wake-up call. Maybe we should consider adding it to the concierge services?” Goose bumps scattered across her skin as I trailed a finger over her collarbone.

Now it was her turn to laugh. “It would certainly set Maxwell Hotels apart from the competition.”

“Indeed.” I grinned. “But no more business talk. I am officially off duty for the next seven days.”

As CEO of one of the world’s largest luxury hotel chains, work was a large part of my life. Thankfully, Quinn was every bit the workaholic that I was as head of finance for a boutique cosmetics company. When we decided to get married in Hawaii, at the same hotel where our professional relationship turned into something a lot more personal, we both knew I would turn this into a business trip as well.

Since we were spending the entire week on the islands before we exchanged vows, I had scheduled in everything I needed to do before our wedding day. Being my perfect match in every way, Quinn didn’t give me any shit for it. She knew I was a man of my word, and I had every intention of making her my one and only priority after we became man and wife. If I had my way, we would spend most of that time naked.

“Did you ever think we’d get here?” Quinn brushed some sweaty hair away from my forehead. “We spent so long hating each other. How did we go from that to walking down the aisle?”

“Clearly, I’m the luckiest bastard alive.”

Her brown eyes sparkled with amusement. “Or, you’re just really great with the dirty-talk.”

“That, too.” I gave her a long, lingering kiss. “For the record, I never hated you. I think part of me always knew you were my game changer, Quinn, but I didn’t want to accept it. I don’t know if you know this, but I can be a stubborn ass sometimes.”

“Oh, trust me, I am well aware.”

“Don’t act like you’re not equally pigheaded.” I pinched her ass, making her squeal, before pulling out of her tight heat. “But arguing with you is my favorite kind of foreplay, baby.”

“Hmm.” She tapped her lips in mock contemplation. “That is high on the list of my favorites. But there is one thing I love more.”

“Oh, yeah?” I slowly began trailing kisses down her torso, knowing exactly where she was going with this. “What’s that?”

Quinn fisted my hair, pushing me down even further. I loved it when she got bossy in bed. “Put your tongue on me, Ronan.”

I swirled the tip of my tongue around her navel. “My tongue is on you, baby.”

She applied more pressure to my head and huffed. “You know what I meant, you ass.”

“Oh?” I moved lower, blowing my hot breath directly over where she wanted me most. “Do you want me to lick your pretty pussy until you’re screaming my name?” I gave her one long lick from bottom to top to demonstrate. “Do you want me to devour your dripping cunt until you can’t possibly take anymore and you’re begging me to get inside of you again?”

“God, yes,” she panted as I feasted on her. “Oh, damn, right there.”

I inserted an index finger, thrusting in and out until the digit was well lubricated. Then, I pressed the tip of that same finger against her ass. “Do you want me to finger your ass while I eat you out until you’re begging me to put my cock there, too?”

My girl loved some occasional ass play, and I couldn’t say I was mad about it.

“Yes!” Quinn gasped as I pushed inside of her tight ass, rotating my wrist as I pumped my finger. “Less talking, more doing!”

“You love my filthy words,” I taunted. “They get you hot.”

I’d proven time and time again, some carefully crafted dirty-talk could bring Quinn to the brink of an orgasm. Sometimes, I barely had to touch her before she came for the first time. Lucky for my fiancée, I was a giver in bed, which meant I didn’t stop until she’d had multiple orgasms.

“Ronan, I swear to God—” I sealed my lips around her clit and sucked, cutting off whatever verbal tirade she was about to go on. After Quinn sufficiently suffocated me with her thighs, she blew out the breath she’d been holding during her climax. “Holy shit, I could wake up like that every damn day.”

I licked her through the final post-orgasmic tremor. “Sweetheart, all you need to do is meet me at the end of that aisle this afternoon, and you can count on that happening for at least the next fifty years.”

She chuckled. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

QUINN

I’D BEEN DREAMING of my wedding day since I was a little girl. I would spend hours on end looking through bridal magazines, oohing and aahing over designer gowns with cathedral trains, floral arrangements that were bigger than my entire body, and extravagant ballrooms that cost a fortune to rent. Back then, I had no idea how easily the expenses added up when you were planning an event such as this.

Ironically, since I was marrying a billionaire at one of his family’s Hawaiian resorts, cost wasn’t really an issue. I knew my soon-to-be-husband would’ve spent whatever it took to make my dream a reality. But the thing was, I didn’t want a big fuss. The only thing that mattered was Ronan and the life we were going to build together as husband and wife. As long as my groom was at the end of the aisle waiting for me as promised, that was all I needed to make this day perfect.

“Oh, honey. You’re the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen,” my dad said as he entered the cabana where I’d gotten ready.

I raised my brows as my mother’s green eyes twinkled with amusement. “What about Mom?”

He flushed and grabbed the back of his neck. “Uh…”

My mother swatted my arm with the back of her hand. “Oh, leave your poor father alone. I know this is your day, sweetheart, but maybe you can dial down the smartass just a tad today, huh?”

“I suppose I can try.” I sighed dramatically. “But if it doesn’t work out, you have no one to blame but yourself. I learned from the best, after all.”

My dad laughed. “Damn, Allison, she’s got you there.”

My mom flipped him off. “Bite me, Mark.”

“Name the time and place, babe.” He winked at her.

Gross.

I may have been in my late twenties, and lord knew I was no stranger to flirty banter, but that didn’t mean I needed to witness my parents doing it.

“Aw, you guys are so cute!” my best friend, Antonio, gushed.

I pointed a stern finger at him. “Don’t encourage them.”

“You ready to do this, Quinn?” My other bestie, Sylvie, handed me my simple bouquet of purple orchids to represent the island where Ronan and I first realized we were in love.

I nodded. “I am.”

My father peeked his head through the canvas curtain, signaling the musician we had hired. When he strummed the first notes of Jack Johnson’s “Better Together” on his acoustic guitar, Antonio offered his arm to my mom, taking the lead in our procession. As my maid of honor, Sylvie was next, blowing me an air kiss before disappearing behind the curtain.

My dad and I waited about thirty seconds before he turned to me and said, “You sure about this? Last chance to back out. I don’t know if you know this, honey, but I heard that guy can be a real asshole sometimes.”

I laughed at his joke. My parents knew how rocky mine and Ronan’s start was, but they could also plainly see how far we’d come. “True. But he’s my asshole.”

He smiled proudly. “Alright then. Let’s get you hitched.”

He stepped out first, holding the canvas aside for me. The moment I took his arm and we started walking down the makeshift aisle in the sand, I spotted my unbelievably handsome groom waiting for me beneath a small pergola, with his older brother Liam standing beside him. For the first two years we’d known each other, I’d never seen Ronan wearing anything but a suit, but I later learned he had a surprisingly vast collection of T-shirts and jeans which he wore well. Today, my groom was dressed in a white linen short-sleeved button-down shirt with a pair of tan chinos. His brown hair was freshly trimmed, the short strands blowing in the light breeze, and the ever-present stubble lining his jaw taunted me, reminding me of how it scratched my inner thighs just only a few hours ago.

God, I didn’t think I’d ever tire of looking at that man.

Ronan’s impossibly blue eyes drank me in as I walked down the aisle. I was wearing a flowy off-white strapless chiffon dress that fell down to my ankles with a pair of silver beach-friendly sandals. My gown was rather simple and fairly modest, but the hunger in his gaze would make you think I was in the middle of performing a striptease. I gave him a look that screamed, not the time to give me the I-want-to-do-dirty-things-to-you eyes, but in true Ronan Maxwell form, he didn’t give a damn, as evidenced by his sexy smirk. This was how he always looked at me, even back when we were both adamantly denying our attraction to one another.

And as much as I hated to admit it, I loved his over-the-top cockiness, or as Antonio liked to call it, his big ol’ dick energy. Well, sometimes, it drove me crazy, but that usually led to him using that big ol’ dick to give me multiple orgasms, so I forgave him.

The music quieted as I reached the altar, and my father placed my hand in Ronan’s before stepping aside to take a seat next to my mom in the front row.

Ronan leaned down as if he were placing a chaste kiss on my cheek, but I knew something filthy was about to come out of his mouth.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you see stars while you’re wearing this dress. And then I’m going to strip you out of it, redden your beautiful ass, and do it all over again.”

I bit my lip as he pulled back, side-eyeing the minister to see if he’d overheard that. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like it, or he was kind enough to pretend he didn’t anyway. I’d like to say Ronan’s inappropriately timed dirty-talk was scandalizing, but considering the man proposed to me while he was eating me out, I’d be lying.

“Aloha, ladies and gentlemen,” the minister began. “We are gathered here today…”

As Ronan and I exchanged vows, promising our lives to one another in front of our closest friends and family, my heart felt incredibly full. I had no doubt that Ronan Maxwell was my soul mate. There was most certainly a healthy amount of arguments in our future, along with an equal measure of makeup sex, but that was just who we were, and I wouldn’t change a thing about it.

And as we said our I dos, and the minister pronounced us husband and wife, the man who I once referred to as my bosshole, was now my forever.

Did you miss the beginning of Quinn and Ronan’s story? Check out BILLIONAIRE BOSSHOLE.

About the Author

Laura Lee is the USA Today bestselling author of steamy and sometimes ridiculously funny romance. She’s best known for writing the Bedding the Billionaire series and the Windsor Academy series. Laura spent most of her life with her nose in a book thinking of alternate endings or continuations to the story. She won her first writing contest at the ripe old age of nine, earning a trip to the state capital to showcase her manuscript. Thankfully for her, those early works will never see the light of day again!

Laura lives in the Pacific Northwest with her wonderful husband, two beautiful children, and three of the most poorly behaved cats in existence. She likes her fruit smoothies filled with rum, her cupboards stocked with Cadbury’s chocolate, and her music turned up loud. When she’s not writing or watching HGTV, she’s reading anything she can get her hands on. She’s a sucker for spicy romances, especially those that make her laugh.

For more information, check out:

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PROVE IT

LAUREN STEWART

CHAPTER ONE

RACHEL

THERE’S an old saying that goes: I’d never want to join a club that would have me as a member.

For me, a more appropriate version is: I never want to sleep with the guy who wants to sleep with me. And, of course, because the universe hates me, the only man I wanted was one hundred percent off-limits.

Proving my point was the guy heavy-breathing over my shoulder. “Baby, I’ll make you come so many times you’ll be begging me to stop.”

See what I mean? I set my drink down on the end of the bar and moved more of my dark, curly hair over to act as a shield between my bare shoulder and his bourbon breath.

“Wow,” I deadpanned. “Could you really?” As if I hadn’t heard it before. About a billion times. And guess how many times it had actually happened.

Yep, that’s right. A huge, cock-sucking zero. Unfortunately, it had taken a fair amount of cock-sucking before I figured that out. Let it be known I do my goddamn part. Now I knew to wait for confirmation the guy was willing to do his part before his zipper—or I—go down.

“Hell yeah, sweetheart. Give me a chance to prove it to you.”

If he could make me come once, it would be enough of a miracle to make me believe in a higher power. So yeah, begging him to stop?

“I don’t think so.”

“You need anything else, Rachel?” Rick asked as he wiped down the bar. Since he was staring down the wheezing idiot next to me as he spoke, I knew he was really asking if he should get rid of him. No wonder Rick was my favorite bartender in the city. One of my favorite men in the city. Too bad he was happily married to another one of my favorite men in the city.

“I’m fine, Rick.”

“Yeah, you are,” Wheezy slurred.

“Let me know if you change your mind, Rach,” Rick said, wiping a slow path toward the other end of the bar.

“I will.” But I wouldn’t.

I worked at a Fortune 500 company that was ninety-two percent male, despite the fact our founder and CEO was a woman. Hell, until corporate reshuffled our management a few months ago, I dealt with idiots like this on a daily basis. So while normally I would’ve stopped this conversation as soon as Wheezy had said a single lecherous word, I had a rough day. What should’ve been a career-making contract fell through. Months of blood, sweat, hopes, and dreams all crumbling in a single fifteen-minute meeting.

And frankly, I needed to take my frustration out on someone.

My intention for coming here tonight had been to take it out on the body of a man who could act as a sexual stand-in for Adam, my overly-gorgeous, unreasonably hot, completely-off-limits boss who’d transferred from the London office six months ago.

Unfortunately, since finding a decent Adam stand-in seemed impossible, teaching Wheezy some manners would have to do. After all, if he said this crap to me, he’d say it to some other woman—one who hadn’t suffered through a day like mine and who was too well-trained by society not to tell him that the person he should go fuck was himself.

“Come on, pretty lady,” he breathed. Heavily. “Are you really going to turn down an eight-inch cock?”

“Eight-inches?” I couldn’t get any closer to the bar, so I was stuck between wood and wood, except only one of them was thick, useful, and something I was willing to touch.

“Yeah, baby.”

“Prove it,” I said, not turning towards him in case he actually tried.

“I meant when it’s—” he sputtered. “Not right this second.”

“You expect me to put in work just so you can prove you have what it takes to pleasure me?” I lowered my head. Coming here had been a mistake. I should be home right now taking my frustration out on a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey and watching Vikings. Hell, maybe I should run for it—I’ve lived right above this bar since college.

“With you lookin’ the way you do, it won’t take but a minute,” he said. “And it’s so dark in here no one will ever know.”

I grimaced. “I’d know.”

He chuckled. “Come on, baby. It’ll be fun.”

“Will it?” I asked, not even trying to hide my skepticism. Men like him were exactly why I paid so much for cable.

“Yeah.”

“While that’s quite a deal you’re offering…” I turned and looked down at the puny little bump in the front of his unnecessarily tight pants. Unless he could do magic, that thing was never going to be fun for anyone. “You know there’s a limit to the ‘grow-er not a show-er’ thing, right?”

I took a long sip of my drink before continuing. “The only thing I’m going to do for you is offer you a piece of advice. Can I do that?” I didn’t wait for his answer. Since when did men like him want advice about women from an actual woman? “I suggest you look for a class on how not to sexually harass people and make them want to vomit. Because my guess is that everyone you know wants to either slap you or knee you in the balls, and any woman who’s ever taken you up on your offer was extremely disappointed even with her expectations set as low as I imagine they were.”

He cursed and turned to leave.

“Hang on a second.” I grabbed his shoulder. “If I had temporarily lost my mind and actually had agreed to something, how were you going to explain the absence of eight inches?”

He shrugged flippantly. “It’s close.”

“No, baby. It isn’t,” I said, shaking my head.

He complimented me as he walked away—being called a bitch is neither new nor insulting to me. In fact, it still kind of made me blush.

“That was well-handled.” It was a deep voice, sexy, and it came from directly behind me. But I didn’t look. I already considered tonight a total bust.

“No offense,” I said, “but unless you actually have an eight-inch cock and actually can make me come so many times I’ll beg you to stop, I’m not interested.”

“You should turn around then.”

Yeah, right. “Prove it.”

“Very well.”

I jerked when he lifted my wrist off the bar. He relaxed his grip and let go, immediately understanding he’d overstepped. Both our hands stayed frozen in midair about an inch apart. My eyes were frozen too, stuck studying his perfectly-manicured nails, crisp white cuff, and the expensive-looking sleeve of a dark suit.

I blinked, not understanding why I hadn’t elbowed him as soon as he touched me, or stomped on his foot, or or turned around to knee him in the balls. Instead, I felt an odd sense of familiarity, as if this had happened before, in a dream maybe. Or a deeply exciting fantasy.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said quietly. “May I try again?”

As he slid his warm hand into my frozen one and lowered it off the bar, I gulped loudly, realizing what he was going to do.

“You said you wanted proof.”

“I did say that, didn’t I?” I took a deep breath and relaxed my hand in his. I know better than to trust strangers, but apparently, I’m easily swayed by delicious cologne and sleeves of expensive suits. “You better not be lying. If you’re doing this for just a quick grope, you should know I can land one hell of a slap.”

“Duly noted, albeit unnecessarily.”

Apparently, I’m also a sucker for a man who used words like “albeit” properly.

I’m not saying I made it easy for him, but I didn’t make it hard. Although, I’d sure like to believe I made it hard—pun intended—because oh man…

I sucked in a breath when I felt him through his pants. And holy shit was there a lot to feel. He wasn’t even fully hard yet, and he was already double anything the heavy-breather from earlier might’ve been able to produce. The stranger kept his hand firmly over mine, so I couldn’t move to judge his length, but without meaning to, I curled my fingers around enough of him to estimate the radius of his cock and to fantasize about what the circumference would feel like. Good. Yep, it would feel really, really good.

I still didn’t turn around though. There was something primal and oddly enjoyable about not knowing what he looked like and judging him only by his scent, his sleeve, his voice, and his cock. So I relaxed into it and let myself be led by someone who oozed confidence and charisma.

Rick looked offended when I preemptively waved him off with the hand that wasn’t occupied. I couldn’t take the risk of him coming to this end of the bar and scaring away the stranger before he’d fully proven himself.

“I can honestly say this is the very first time I’ve ever groped a total stranger,” I said. “You should feel really special.”

“I feel all kinds of things right now.” His voice was low, strong without being abrasive. “Just say the word, and I’ll leave you alone, understood?”

I pressed my lips together and tightened my grip around him.

He groaned. “Did you hear me?”

I nodded. “I just didn’t know which word would make you leave me alone, so I didn’t want to risk using any of them.”

His laugh was guttural, hypnotic. What was it about a man’s laugh that could instantly double his sex appeal? Proof he had a sense of humor? That he enjoyed more than fart jokes and sexist comedies?

“Appropriate words would be along the lines of ‘no’ or ‘go away,’” he said. “Although I like to think I’m decent at picking up unspoken hints as well.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” I wouldn’t. I had no plans to use any of those words or be subtle about anything tonight.

I should not be doing this. Granted, I’ve thought that exact thing right before having a few of the best nights of my life, but this time wasn’t going to be like that. This time I was going to behave myself, take my hand back, say goodnight and thank you to the well-endowed gentleman, and go home.

He guided my hand along the length of his cock. His very thick, very long cock that was getting larger by the second.

Say goodnight and go home, Rachel. “Good…” What was I supposed to say again? “Good…God.” No, that wasn’t it. But that’s all I was thinking. “Impressive.” And also honest—if he wasn’t eight inches, he was awfully close.

When I tried to turn, he pushed my shoulder so I couldn’t. “Hey!”

“Patience.” Tsking, he put his hands on my hips and stepped in closer, his erection pushing against my ass. “There were two conditions to you turning around. I’ve already proven I meet the size requirement.” He leaned in even more, his breath sending an unearthly chill through me. Just like his whisper. “Although I’ve always been an overachiever.” He laughed at my whimper, his arm curling around my waist and then slowly starting to move down. “But I haven’t proven myself capable of your second requirement yet.”

CHAPTER TWO

RACHEL

OH DEAR GOD. He couldn’t possibly mean— “Here?” I squeaked. It was a weeknight, so Rick’s place was pretty empty, but he couldn’t mean right here, could he?

“Before you turn around,” the stranger said as he reached down and began gathering the fabric of my skirt in front, “I want you to be sure you’re making the right decision. So unless you tell me to stop, then yes, it’s going to happen right here. Until you’re begging me to stop for a very different reason.”

“What makes you think I won’t beg you to not start?” My voice was hushed but desperate, even as his fingers curled under the hem of my skirt and I inched my legs apart to make it easier for him. Damn it.

“A very healthy ego, a few kind women who offered me a lot of useful feedback in my younger days, and a whole lot of wishful thinking.”

Thankfully, when I twisted slightly to face the back wall, he followed. This way, if anyone happened to take a break from their drink and look our way, they’d only see his back.

I pushed the fabric down ineffectively. “What kind of man slips his hand up a woman’s skirt in the middle of a bar?”

“What kind of woman tortures every man she meets by looking like you do?” He ran his fingertips up my thigh. “I think we’ve both proven we’re horrible people. We should avoid subjecting the world to our horribleness by spending our time together, thus minimizing the damage we do to others.”

He flicked at the edge of my panties, making me squirm and try to adjust my position to force his touch. Before I started begging, he dipped under the fabric and ran his fingers along my slit, exploring my heat, teasing.

He groaned as I pressed back into him. I couldn’t even pretend it was accidental or that I was trying to get away from his fingers because no one on earth would’ve believed that—not anyone who’d felt fingers like his before, anyway. I arched my back again—couldn’t help it, swear—and grinded harder against his erection. I held on to bar like a lifeline, just so I wouldn’t do what I wanted—reach behind me, unzip his pants, and line his cock up so he’d be inside me in one single, hard thrust.

What the hell? Stuff like this didn’t happen to me. Not even in my fantasies. So it happening with a total stranger I’d never laid eyes on made this pretty much the weirdest and most surreal experience of my life. Note the words I didn’t use to describe it: disappointing, offensive, or unwelcome.

“Look,” I choked out, “I don’t need more convincing. I believe you can do it. So…ummmm”—that was an outright moan—“Let’s go somewhere. Now.” I think I started arguing with both of us at that point—begging him to stop, begging myself to stop feeling so needy. Those kinds of things.

Unfortunately, while I struggled to decide what the hell I wanted, he listened. He stopped caressing and simply cupped his hand over my pussy, his middle finger curled slightly more than his others, adding just the right amount of additional pressure to my clit. Although truthfully, it was just under the right amount of pressure, which is probably why I bent my knees to increase it.

“I thought you wanted to stop,” he said.

“I did say that, didn’t I?”

His laugh warmed my ear just like his body did at my back. I dropped onto my elbows and wished I had another drink—something ice cold and numbing.

As ridiculous as it was, I was afraid to turn around and face him. The stranger whose scent was warm and spicy, who in two minutes had gotten me closer to an orgasm than any man ever and damn near closer than my vibrator could, and who made me thank the stars that I’d worn a skirt today.

I wasn’t an overly superficial person, but what if I turned around and the sexiest man I’d ever encountered was actually a hideous monster? Or older than my dad? Or a frat boy?

Unless I wanted a stranger to get me off in public and then walk away never to be seen again, I was going to have to look at him eventually. And seeing how needy he’d left me, “eventually” should be now.

I took a deep breath, removed his hand from my panties, turned around…

And instantly regretted it.

The stranger wasn’t a hideous monster. He was far closer to my age than my dad’s and looked way too rich and classy to ever be called a frat boy.

What he would be called—at least by almost everyone who worked at the San Francisco office of Barton International—was “Boss.”

And that “everyone” included me.

Every bit of alcohol and lust flew off and was immediately replaced by panic and regret.

We stared at each other for a second…a few seconds. His tie was gone, the first few buttons of his shirt undone, and his five-o’clock shadow was a bit darker, but everything else looked exactly the same as it had been a couple hours ago when I left work.

“Hello, Rachel,” he said smoothly. Damn it. I hated being the only one freaking out.

“Adam? Wha—? Why are you—?” I swallowed and tried again, hoping shock hadn’t permanently ruined my ability to speak. “What the hell are you—?”

“Fancy seeing you here,” he said, running his fingers through his short hair and then rubbing the back of his neck. At least he managed to look a little embarrassed. Not as bad as I did because that would be impossible. I wished the flush on my cheeks was due to humiliation, but most of it was lust-induced, and that was one-hundred percent his fault.

“Why didn’t you— I had no idea— Oh my God! ” I stopped and looked at him more closely. Adam was British—think Henry Cavill but darker and less smiley—and had that easy, uncaring European way of being gorgeous without seeming to realize it. But the voice promising all that deliciousness definitely wasn’t. Granted, most of what I’d heard Adam say were things like, “Rachel, have you finished the draft proposal for Lee yet?” Or “Sorry, folks. I’m afraid we’re all going to have to stay late tonight to finalize the projections for next quarter.”

“Did you fake an American accent?” I asked.

“In my defense, you really should be able to recognize that bad of a fake.” When he held up his hands, I didn’t think about a white flag or submission. All I could think about was that one of those hands had just been up my skirt, in my panties, drawing beautiful little circles on a part of my body nobody ever expects the hand of the VP of their department to go.

Not that a similar image hadn’t crossed the mind of everyone on the seventh floor of the Montgomery West building—straight or gay— since Adam first walked out of the elevator.

“It was pretty terrible.” All American accents are terrible when compared to his. Which was why I’d heard of men faking British accents to pick up women, but never the reverse.

“I believe I owe you a drink.”

I humphed. “Among other things.”

The corner of his mouth curled. “You were the one who wanted to stop.”

Shit. “I’m not talking about orgasms with you. Now or ever. I meant you owe me an apology for pretending to be someone you’re not.”

“You’re right.” He nodded. “For that, I am sorry. I got caught up in the moment.”

“Didn’t you wonder what would happen when I turned around after we…finished…whatever that was?”

We both knew what that was—me being two minutes away from an orgasm. I could almost see the sarcastic reply form on his lips, but he caught himself just in time, probably knowing it was a bad time to make jokes at my expense.

“My mouth is suddenly very dry.”

I thrust my almost empty drink at him.

“To be honest,” he said after taking a sip and handing it back, “I’m not sure what I thought would happen. I hadn’t planned that far ahead. Once your hand was on my cock, I was a bit too distracted to think much of anything.”

I’d give him that. Men could have either thoughts or erections but never the two simultaneously. Whoever said, “Men have two heads but only enough blood to fill one at a time,” was a smart woman.

“All catfishing aside…” I took a deep breath because I needed it. “I think it’s best we forget all of this happened as quickly as possible.”

CHAPTER THREE

ADAM

I STUDIED HER FOR A MOMENT, wondering if I’d misjudged her or the situation. Not that I’d planned on any of this happening, but if Rachel truly regretted what we’d done, then I’d screwed up a lot more than an American accent.

There were many things about women no man would ever understand, myself included. However, I prided myself on not being a total idiot. I’d acted on impulse when I first approached her, a momentary loss of control, an utter absence of forethought. If she’d told me to fuck off as she so gracefully did with that other man, or if her shoulders had clenched in discomfort or nervousness, I would’ve stopped immediately. But she’d done quite the opposite. If she hadn’t been so responsive, so aroused, so wet, I wouldn’t have let it go as far as I did.

I didn’t regret a second of it, and I prayed she didn’t either.

“What if I don’t want to forget it happened?” I asked. “Perhaps I’d rather it continue somewhere more private and become more recurrent, more…” I swallowed, knowing I was asking for too much too soon. “More.”

“More more?” she repeated flippantly. “You mean like spending our lunch breaks fucking in the supply closet like teenagers?”

“Apparently you had a lot more fun as a teenager than I did.” I tapped down my smile but only a little. “Not what I meant, but yes, if that’s an option, fucking during our lunch breaks sounds incredible.”

“It’s not an option!” As soon as her volume registered, she glanced around to see who’d noticed. The few patrons here seemed to only care about what was in the glass in front of them, but the bartender was a different story.

He stalked towards us, looking as though he intended to vault over the bar and kill me. I’m not easily intimidated, nor am I unable to protect myself, but the last thing I needed was to get in an altercation with someone who wanted the same thing I did—for Rachel to be safe and happy.

I flicked my head towards the angry bartender. “Do you mind telling him I’m not doing anything to you?”

“But you are.” She shrugged. “You were.”

“Rachel.” I glanced at him again. “He might have a gun.”

“Baseball bat, actually.” She stopped him with just a raised hand and the words, “I’m fine, Rick. This is my boss. He’s harmless.”

“Harmless?” I forced a smile. “Ah, the descriptor every man longs to hear.”

Once Rick had turned around and seemed to settle for glaring at me from the other end of the bar, Rachel said, “I like my job, and I’m not giving it up to get laid, even if I really, really want to.”

I cocked my head to the side and furrowed my brow. “I’m glad to hear that—especially the last part—but why would you have to give up your job?”

“Because employee relationships go against the code of conduct, and you’re my boss.”

“Technically, that last part isn’t true.” Not until my mother retired in a few years and I took over as CEO for Barton International. But what good was it to be heir to the company if I couldn’t break a rule or two?

Not that anyone on either side of the pond knew who I was. Julia Barton didn’t have much of a maternal side to her, so very few people knew she even had a son, let alone that he would someday take over for her.

I inherited my surname from the man who raised me while my mother was off building an empire. Due to her noble-yet-highly-inconvenient disdain of nepotism, I had to work my way up just like everyone else. Granted, they didn’t have the benefit of weekly telephone calls with the company’s CEO to find out how close to being a disappointment they were. At least, not from age ten.

It had taken a while, but I finally understood why she hadn’t made it easy for me—so that when I reached the top, I would know it was because of what I’d accomplished, not who I was related to.

“Fine.” Rachel blew out a breath of air. “You’re technically not my boss. But we still work together at a company that doesn’t allow fraternizing between employees, especially between VPs and lowly consultants like me. So regardless of technicalities, I work under you.”

“I love the sound of that—you under me,” I said, avoiding the pertinent topic entirely, instead focusing on the far more interesting one. “Having you on top of me sounds delightful as well.”

“Adam!” When she shoved my chest, I put my hand on top of hers so she couldn’t pull away. Now that I’d touched her, felt her heat, pressed my body against hers? Nope. There was no way in hell I was letting go of her now. Not until I’d had a chance to find out if she felt even a fraction of what I did.

“We can’t do—” she started. “Well, I mean, we could, but it would be—”

“Incredible? Life altering?” I offered helpfully before deciding on, “Not enough.” I nodded. “You’re right. Once would definitely not be enough. That’s why I believe we should make it a regular thing.”

“We can’t! I’m not quitting my—” She pressed her lips together, tucking them between her teeth. Too bad. I loved those lips…and everything that came out of them. But her assumption that if one of us had to sacrifice something, it would automatically fall onto her confused me.

“Why do you think I would expect you to give up your job to sleep with me? Like I said, I have a healthy ego, but I’m not worth sacrificing your career for.”

“Good…I think.”

I’d been in the States for six months. Six lonely months of doing nothing but sleeping on an uncomfortable mattress in an extended-stay hotel whenever I wasn’t working for a company I felt nothing for but was born into. In all that time, Rachel had been the only pleasurable thing in my life. The only reason I rolled off that horrible mattress some mornings was knowing I would get to see her smile. If I were really lucky, we’d have some time to flirt, both of us knowing it would never go anywhere. At least, not until tonight.

For six months, I’d kept my mouth shut and my hands to myself, despite every cell in my body begging me to do otherwise. I studied her at a professional distance, watched her work, got to know her, discovered how brilliant, creative, and intense she was. Mistakenly believing I would do my time at our office here and then go back to London with nothing left undone and no loose ends.

Tonight, I caved. I tossed out all the rules I’d set in place and landed here, in a moment I hadn’t anticipated but was hardly sorry about. My will started crumbling three hours ago, when I overheard Rachel complain to a co-worker about her day. The new deal she’d been counting on had fallen apart, so she planned to spend the evening at her favorite bar crying into a drink unless she found someone to take home and help her forget about life for the night. When she caught me eavesdropping—accidentally or not—she awkwardly invited me along, knowing I’d refuse. I always refused. I knew what the office staff thought of me—the same thing people always thought about me. That I was the stereotype—a rich, entitled playboy with a different woman in his bed every night. And to be fair, I’d spent most of my early twenties proving them right.

But not anymore. I was older. I was smarter. And when I got back to my hotel room after work tonight and saw that empty goddamn bed, neither one of those things made any difference at all.

Without thought or plan, I gave in to dumb, impetuous need and went after the woman I wanted. I took a taxi here, saw that awful, undeserving man cozying up to her, threw on a bad American accent, and had my hand up her skirt before I realized what I’d put in motion. But it was too late to back down now.

“Adam,” she said more quietly, “we need to talk about this.” She gave up on getting her hand back, instead flipping it around and taking mine. “Come on.”

CHAPTER FOUR

ADAM

I FOLLOWED WITHOUT QUESTION. I didn’t care where she was taking me. She was holding my hand and wanted to talk. Yell might be more accurate, but I’d take what I could get.

Instead of heading for the exit, she pulled me to the other side of the room, said a quick goodnight to the bartender still glaring at me, and led me to a door in a dark alcove just off the bar area. After letting go of my hand and punching a code into the digital lock, she opened the door, exposing a thin wooden staircase.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked, making my voice quiver as if I were nervous.

“My place.”

Surprised, excited, and no longer just pretending to be nervous, I followed her up the stairs into an open loft area with red brick walls running up to high ceilings covered in duct work. Standing in the middle of the room, staring out the window, I patiently waited for her to start talking.

That’s when she tackled me, grabbing me by the lapels and pulling me down to kiss her. Her lips were soft and tasted of the vodka cranberry drink she had earlier. Before I had enough time to truly enjoy them, she ran her tongue across mine, demanding I respond in kind. As the kiss deepened, she unbuttoned my shirt, tugged it from my slacks, and slid both my suit jacket and the shirt over my shoulders. I helped when my cuffs caught, quickly unbuttoning them behind my back and yanking free of them.

“I thought we were going to talk,” I said as our mouths and bodies broke apart. “Not that I’m complaining, of course.”

“The way I see it”—she unbuttoned her own blouse and tossed it onto the couch—“we broke the rules as soon as your hand was in my panties, so anything else we do tonight doesn’t count.”

I flicked off my shoes and socks. My pants dropped at the same time her skirt did. “That makes perfect sense.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Laughing, she undid her bra and freed the most beautiful breasts I’d ever seen. “But I’m not going to think about it too hard. Speaking of hard…”

I stepped out of my pants and reached for her, grabbing her by the waist to draw her closer, leaving one hand free to touch her breast, tease her nipple.

Her moan cut off when I kissed her, our tongues exploring, heat rising. We’d barely begun what I knew was going to be a very memorable night, and my cock was already aching to be inside her.

“Where’s your bedroom?” Not that I wouldn’t happily have her on the couch, counter, or floor. When I picked her up, she wrapped her long legs around my waist and pointed towards a door that I practically ran to.

Inside her bedroom, I assumed there was furniture and knick-knacks, but all I saw was the bed. Once the multitude of pillows were gone, it would be the perfect size to roll around on and fight about who got to be on top. At least the first time.

It bounced when I tossed her onto it, and I couldn’t help but thank God we didn’t go to my place. Still on her back, staring at me with the exact level of intensity and passion I knew she’d have, she started grabbing pillows and throwing them off the bed as quickly as she could.

When she grabbed hold of the last one, I stopped her. “Put it under your ass.”

She looked confused but followed my direction, wiggling and lifting herself to get it beneath her.

“What now?” she asked, leaving the perfect amount of room for me between her bent legs.

“I believe we discussed something about making you come so many times you were begging me to stop.” When I laid down, most of my body hung off the bed, but my mouth was right where I wanted it to be. “I think we should start with that.”

I ran my lips up her inner thigh, spreading her wider as I neared her heat. She raised her hips for me as I dragged her panties off. I started softly, my lips barely making contact until I felt her thighs contract and her hips lift off the pillow as if reaching for my mouth.

“Oooh, shiiiiiit,” she groaned as I spread her with my tongue, increasing the pressure little by little. Relishing the taste of her, the softness, I brought her closer with one finger, then two. By listening to her breaths, her moans, I learned what she needed, and I gave it to her.

As she neared her end, she fisted my hair, each breath breaking faster than the one before. Neither one of us was going to last very long this round—she needed to come and I needed to be inside her.

When she came, she arched her back and screamed so loudly, I wondered if Rick and the bar patrons one floor below heard her.

“Who’s harmless now?” I chuckled, keeping my mouth on her until she slumped back on the bed, her arms and legs limp and useless.

In a perfect world, I would’ve let her enjoy the aftershocks of her orgasm, waited for her eyes to open before ramping things up again. But the world wasn’t perfect, and I had no time to waste. That we had all night didn’t matter as much as her determination that it would only be one night. Eight hours wasn’t a lot of time to prove myself worthy of breaking the rules for.

I scooted up the bed until my body was level with hers, leaving my hand behind to caress her. Probably fearing I would stop, she squeezed her legs together and laughed.

“What’s so funny?” I asked as I nipped her shoulder.

“I was just thinking of that guy from earlier—Wheezy. I wish I could thank him.”

“You want to thank him,” I repeated.

When I pulled away from her, she laughed even harder.

“Not like that, Adam!” She pushed me onto my back, climbed on top of me, and took hold of my cock like a joystick. “I just meant that I owe Wheezy a debt of gratitude. If he hadn’t been such an idiot, this might not be happening.”

“Ah, well then. I suppose we both owe him.” I shuddered as she started to stroke my length. “But first, please tell me you have a condom within arm’s reach, or you’ll have to stop doing that while I go get the one in my pants.”

She lunged for her nightstand and pulled a box from the drawer. Even better, the new position pressed her pussy to my abs, trapping my cock between them. With the most adorable look of concentration, she slid the condom onto me and raised onto her knees.

“We’re really doing this, aren’t we?” she asked seriously.

“God, I hope so.” I wasn’t trying to make light of her feelings or her fear this could be a mistake. “If you want to stop, we’ll stop…even though it’ll likely kill me.”

“I definitely don’t want to stop.” Smiling, she held my eyes with her own as she lowered herself, taking me all the way inside. I gripped both of her thighs so she wouldn’t move until I’d had a chance to enjoy how perfect she felt around me. She rocked back and forth gently as our bodies got to know one another.

As soon as I lifted my hands, first to the curve of her belly, then to her breasts, she was free to move faster. She closed her eyes, but I left mine open to watch her. I was falling for this woman. Or perhaps I’d fallen for her before tonight. Either way, the realization was almost more exciting than the movement of her hips. Almost.

“Rachel?” I whispered, wanting to come clean about who I was and how I felt about her.

She opened her eyes and smiled, then leaned down to kiss me. Both of us groaned at the change of position, of sensation, as our mouths met and her breasts pressed against my chest.

“Why don’t you take over for a while, boss?” she said with a soft laugh.

“Gladly.” I flipped us both over, all thought disappearing with one thrust that brought me deeper inside her. She grabbed my ass, pulling me in, then releasing to demonstrate the speed she wanted. For the most part, I listened. As her heaving breaths turned into quick gasps of air caught in between moans and her body contracted around me, I thrust faster, drove harder until I was as close as she was.

She went over first but just barely. When her pussy spasmed around my cock and she screamed my name along with a few prayers, I shoved in as hard as I could and let go, my groan possibly besting the volume of her cry.

I rested my forehead on hers while we caught our breaths. Then I kissed her softly, finally having a chance to enjoy her lips without hurry or a rush to feel more.

“Noooooo,” she groaned as I pulled out. I wished I could stay inside her forever, but I had to take care of the condom. I moved fast, but she was already half asleep under the sheet by the time I got back, climbed into bed beside her, and pulled her towards me.

“Goodnight, love,” I whispered as she adjusted her head on my chest and snuggled closer. We hadn’t discussed me spending the night or what would happen next. But the one thing I knew was I had no intention of letting her go.

CHAPTER FIVE

RACHEL

I WOKE up curled into Adam’s side, his arm around me. I lifted my head just enough to make sure I hadn’t drooled on his chest. Good, no drool. Fantastic chest. Before I could sneak away to see how “morning after” I looked, he stretched and blinked his eyes open.

“Good morning,” he said groggily.

“Morning,” I mumbled. Words we’d said to each other five days a week for the last six months suddenly felt different, and I couldn’t help but wonder how they’d feel the next time we said them—when we were dressed in business attire and other people were around.

“I haven’t slept that well in ages.”

“Must have been all the exercise,” I joked.

“No, that’s not it. I just really like this mattress.” He laughed when I smacked him in the side. “Okay, the exercise might have had something to do with it.” He pulled me in for a kiss. “As well as having someone next to me who’s warm and curvy and smells delicious.”

“I liked that part too,” I said, pressing halfway up.

“But it was mostly because of the mattress.” He winked. “If you think I’m kidding, next time, we should spend the night at my place.”

Next time? I loved that he was already thinking of next time and this hadn’t just been a night of meaningless sex for him. I’d had meaningless sex, and last night was nothing like it.

I rolled onto my back and rubbed the arm I’d been laying on. “I think I pulled a muscle at some point.”

He turned onto his side as if he were afraid of me getting away. “I hope it was worth it. “ The drag of his lips on my shoulder turned sharp as he switched to his teeth.

“It was definitely worth it.” Because the rest of me was still tingling. “Do you think a pulled muscle is a good enough reason to skip work today? Gill won’t mind, will he?” I thought about our head of operations who freaked out about everything.

Adam raised onto one elbow and looked at me, his gaze perfectly wicked. “I’m not sure about the pulled-muscle excuse, but I can think of a whole bunch of other reasons you shouldn’t go in, including this big one.” He held the sheet open, glanced down, and bounced his eyebrows comically.

I pretended to peek. “Meh. It’s not that big of a reason.”

“Ouch.” He feigned a look of hurt. “I thought we went through this last night, but apparently I have more work to do.” He took my hand and pulled it under the sheet toward his erection. “We should call in sick every day until I’ve provided you with enough proof.”

He had nothing left to prove, but I wasn’t about to tell him not to try. Except…

“I need to call Gill before you distract me too much.”

He pouted as I climbed out of bed and went in search of my bag. Along the way, I picked up my bra and underwear and slipped them on. Once I had my phone, I went back into the bedroom and sat on the bed next to him. “With my recent luck, the first time I call in sick after four years of working there is what gets me fired.”

“Or maybe today is the day you get that promotion you applied for.”

“Seriously, it’s taking Gill forever to make a decision.” Wait a second. Squinting, I turned to him. “How did you know I applied?” I was one of only a few people qualified for the open VP position, but I hadn’t told anyone I was going after it.

He fiddled with the sheet, leaving me to come up with my own ideas. None of them good.

“It’s a small office, Rachel,” he said finally. “People talk.”

“About me.”

“About everyone which, yes, includes you. You’re not exactly non-threatening to the others, you know?”

“Because I’m a woman.”

“Because you’re an intimidatingly brilliant, strong, imaginative woman who may very well leave us all in the dust some day.”

Sweet, but… “Yeah, right,” I grumbled. “I guarantee no one is going to Gill and saying, ‘Golly, that Rachel Simmons really deserves to move up in the company because she’s so brilliant and strong.’”

“I did.”

My jaw dropped. “You told Gill I should get the promotion?”

He nodded.

I stared at him, confused. That’s not how things worked in business. You didn’t just stick your neck out for someone else without there being something in it for you. What could he possibly have gotten—? Shit.

It would’ve still been a breach of policy, but two VPs sleeping together didn’t make human resource lawyers nearly as nervous as when the relationship involved a power inequity.

“You wanted me promoted to VP so we could sleep together,” I said finally, hating how much it hurt. If it had been anyone else, I could’ve blown it off, but not him.

“Don’t insult me…or yourself,” he said, his brow furrowed. “I backed you for the promotion weeks ago, well before I realized I had feelings for you.”

“Oh,” I said, rubbing my eye as if that would help my hearing. “That’s…nice.”

“Which part? That I think you deserve the promotion or that I have feelings for you?”

Huh. I guess I had heard that correctly. “Both.” I just needed more time to think about what that all meant. “Thank you.”

“I don’t deserve your thanks. I should’ve done something about both of those things much earlier. I delayed recommending you for the position because I knew that when you got it, your office would be on the other side of the building and I wouldn’t get to see you as often. Unfortunately, it took more time than I like to admit to see how incredibly selfish that was. And I was no better last night in the bar when I saw that horrible little man hit on you.”

“His name was Wheezy.”

Adam shrugged. “The reason I faked a bad accent and came onto you had nothing to do with me being nice or realizing I felt anything other than blind jealousy. I couldn’t bear the thought that he would get to kiss you, taste you, look into your eyes as he buried himself inside you. I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t told him off. For all I know, I might have assaulted him in the men’s restroom before he had a chance to take you away.”

“Wow, you’re right.” I crawled on top of him on my hands and knees, slowly bending my arms until our lips were an inch apart. “You’re not a very nice man.”

A smile slowly bloomed on his face as he caressed my cheek with the back of his fingers. “I told you: I’m a horrible person no one but you should be subjected to.”

He pulled me into a kiss, deep and lazy and not even a little horrible. With the sheet separating our bodies, I rubbed myself along his erection until he couldn’t take it anymore and started yanking at the fabric to try to get free.

When I heard the thunk of my phone falling to the ground, I sighed and pushed off him to grab it.

“The call can wait. I’m not sure I can,” he said grumpily.

I laughed and apologized as he adjusted his cock.

CHAPTER SIX

RACHEL

“I’LL BE QUICK—PROMISE.” I turned my back to Adam and pulled up the office’s main number.

Still grumbling, he climbed out on the opposite side of the bed. When I heard him curse loudly, I turned to see him glaring at his cell phone. He scrolled down the screen with his finger, cursed again, and flopped back down onto the mattress disgustedly.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“My mother. Last night and this morning, she called”—he swiped his finger again—“many, many times. That woman is relentless.”

After I asked the office receptionist to put the call through to Gill and was put on hold, I brought my focus back to Adam.

“Is your mom alright?”

He nodded. “I’ve been avoiding her calls all week. Last time we spoke, we had an argument, and I’m not ready to talk about it with her yet.”

“What did you argue about?” I asked before realizing I had no right to know. Whatever this was between us just started, and despite what he might think, neither of us had spent enough time thinking about it.

“She wants me to return to London. Now.”

“Oh,” I managed. That meant we had a lot less to think about, didn’t it?

Of course he was going to go back to London. It was his home. He was only here temporarily.

“Make your call, Rachel. Then we should talk.”

Finally Gill answered. “Bad timing, Rachel. Everything’s hit the fucking fan here. Grab me a triple espresso on your way in, would you?”

“Actually, I was hoping I could take the day off to—”

“No way! Not today. Barton’s here. In the states. In the damn office. The CEO of the whole fucking company is touring our office and complaining about the tea Edward offered her. Meanwhile I’m scrambling around, waking up the heads of as many other offices as possible and pissing them off royally as I do it. All so she can make her big announcement.”

“With no notice? I’m shocked Barton even remembered she has an office in San Francisco.” The name of the company was no joke—Barton International had offices, bigger, higher earning offices all over the globe.

“What’s going on?” Adam asked. He could probably hear just enough of the conversation to recognize that Gill was even more worked up than normal.

“Is that Adam? You’re with Adam. Good. Both of you need to get your asses in here asap. And tell him to bring some fancy tea.”

“What’s going on?” Adam repeated.

“Hang on,” Gill said. “I’m getting another call.”

“Wait!” I shouted uselessly into the phone.

Adam put his hand on my back. “Rachel, please answer me.”

Even though I was on hold, I covered the phone anyway. “Julia Barton is here. In person.” Oh shit, maybe we were all being let go. Maybe she was here to shut down the whole San Francisco office. I would’ve thought she had people to do that kind of thing for her, but she’d built a business empire by herself. She was used to controlling everything, and that included my career.

What could I say? “That…”

“Doesn’t have to change anything.” He sat up, his eyes locked on mine. “Tell me you think it could work between us.”

“What?”

He scooted over to me and took my hand. “Tell me that no matter what else happens you want us to become something real and permanent.”

We might be losing our jobs. Why was he asking about this now? And in such a hurry for an answer?

“Rachel, do you want to be with me, or was last night something you can move on from?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I need to think about it, consider all the factors.”

“We don’t have time to make a list of risks versus rewards. Just answer this question for me: If there were no rules, would you want to make this work or not?”

Quick decisions were a must in business, but so was research, considering every option, and being able to walk away from a deal if it came down to it.

In this case, I had none of that, especially not the ability to walk away from him.

“Come on, Rach. You have excellent instincts, so what does your gut say?”

I didn’t even hesitate. “I want to make this work.”

“Good.” He kissed me. “I do, too. More than you can imagine.”

“Great. How ‘bout we try to come up with a way to have this and not get fired now?”

“Over the next few decades, I will make you a lot of promises,” he said seriously, “and I will do my absolute best to keep all of them. The first thing I can promise is that you will not get fired for being with me.”

“That’s not something you can control, Adam.”

“Actually, it is.”

“What does that mean?” I didn’t like this cryptic side of him. In the last twenty-four hours, everything in my life had changed—from the biggest deal I’d ever gone after falling apart yesterday to what happened between Adam and me last night to whatever was going on at the office this morning. I didn’t have anything else. And it was quite possible I would lose all of it very soon.

“I’m back,” Gill said loudly. “That call was from New York. At least we’re not the only ones panicking. This transition could cause a lot of fucking problems.”

I took my hand away from the phone. “Be honest with me, Gill. Are we all being let go?”

“What? No!” he squawked. “Of course not. Why would you think that?”

“Because no one is telling me what’s going on!”

He ignored the comment. “Barton’s here to make her big announcement.”

“She’s retiring,” Adam said as he slid off the bed and pulled his boxer-briefs on.

My brow tightened as I watched him. “What makes you think that?”

“Hang up, and I’ll tell you.”

I shook my head and twisted away from him. He wasn’t making sense.

“Barton is announcing her retirement,” Gill shouted. “Putting her son in charge of everything. A son nobody knows anything about. Can you believe that?”

Ignoring the rest of his rant, I slowly lowered the phone and turned back to Adam.

Over the years, I’d seen a lot of pictures of Julia Barton in magazines like Forbes and Business Weekly, and in corporate media. One that I remembered well was from early on, just after the company went big. The photographer had obviously meant it to look candid—mega-powerful businesswoman still has time to take care of her family and home. Julia was sitting on a couch next to the husband she divorced a year later, and a little boy was lining up a row of toy trucks on the coffee table in front of them. There was nothing spectacular about Julia’s face or her ex-husband’s, but when put together, they created something special. Someone special.

“You look a lot different than when you were five,” I said numbly.

He took the phone from me and raised it to his ear. “Gill, tell Barton we’ll be there as soon as we can.” He ended the call, set the phone down, and continued to get dressed. “Like I said, we should talk.”

“Actually, I think you’re the one who should talk.” I went in search of some clothes. “Maybe start with clearing up all your lies.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

ADAM

“RACHEL,” I called as she yanked her top on angrily. “I never lied to you.”

“Right.” She laughed bitterly as she bent over to put on her skirt. “You just accidentally forgot to mention all of the truth.” When the fabric of the skirt caught on the curve of her hips, she finally looked at me. “Stop gawking—I’m confused and pissed, and I don’t like being either.”

I mumbled an apology, knowing she had every right to feel that way.

“You specifically said you weren’t my boss, Adam. Was it all just to get me into bed? Like some kind of fucked up show of power? Get the girl and the company all in one shot.”

“Of course not. When I said that, I wasn’t your boss. I didn’t figure out that my mother was retiring until thirty seconds before you did. I thought I had years before that happened.” Explaining my relationship with my mother and why I hadn’t told anyone I was her son would take too much time and ultimately wasn’t as important as letting Rachel know what I felt for her was real. “Until she makes that announcement, I’m still just a man you’ve been working with for the last six months.”

Her jaw dropped open. “How long have you been planning this?”

I would’ve thrown my hands up in frustration if they hadn’t been holding up my pants. “Why would you think I’ve had any control over this at all? If getting to this moment was part of some master plan, I sure as hell wouldn’t have waited six months to do it. I wouldn’t have tortured myself for so long.”

I took a breath and went towards her, stopping just a few feet away. “The only thing I’ve done for the last six months is get to know you and start falling in love with you. And the only thing I want now is you.”

I stared at her, trying to read every micro-expression to figure out what she was thinking. Just as I was about to beg for a do-over, I saw the smallest glimmer of a smile.

She took a step towards me and said, “Prove it.”

“Er…” I quickly wracked my brain but came up with nothing. “How am I supposed to prove that?”

“Introduce me to your mom,” she said, closing the distance between us.

I laughed. “You want to meet my mum?”

Her eyes grew, and she put both hands onto my chest. “Are you kidding? She’s one of my heroes. In business school, I did a paper on her.”

“Then, of course, I’ll introduce you.” I slipped my arms around her and held her tight. “I’ll say, ‘Mother, this is Rachel Simmons. Rachel is the smart, strong, imaginative, beautiful woman I hope someday soon to call my wife.’”

The End

Link to the first book in my Once & Forever series (now free!) Darker Water.

About the Author

Lauren Stewart lives in Northern California with two teenagers, two highly energetic kittens, and an elderly cat who hates all of them. Lauren loves emoticons and finds it annoying when people speak in the third person, so…

I strive to make readers think, laugh, and cry (not always simultaneously, although it’s great when it happens). While I mainly write contemporary romance and urban fantasy romance, regardless of the genre, you’ll always find the unexpected, along with a drop of angst, a splash of humor, and a bucketload of sarcasm.

Because what doesn’t kill us should make us laugh.

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IRRESISTIBLE CHANCE

LEA COLL

CHAPTER ONE

DEXTER

THE RAIN CAME DOWN in sheets, making it difficult to see the road. The swipe of my windshield wipers was relentless, yet alarmingly ineffective. Even with extensive defensive driver training as a police officer, I gripped my wheel tight.

The puppy wrapped in a towel in my passenger side seat whimpered. My fingers itched to comfort him, but I settled for my voice, “It’s okay, buddy. Almost there.”

At least I hoped so. I’d turned down the radio fifteen minutes earlier, hoping it would magically make the road more visible, but the glare from the streetlights made the lines blurry.

The back end of my patrol car fishtailed, and I carefully let up on the brake. I let out a breath when my headlights illuminated a familiar wooden sign for Annapolis Veterinary Care. I pulled into the empty lot, feeling hopeful when I saw the light on in the lobby and a lone figure moving around.

It would be Dr. Stoll. He never minded when I brought in a stray. In fact, I suspected he stayed late on nights like this for this specific reason. After our last call, I’d heard the puppy whining in the alley. It was soaked and looked so tiny sitting there. When I picked him up, there was blood and an open wound on his stomach.

I’d wanted to end the night with a beer, sitting in front of the TV, watching SportsCenter, but one look at the bedraggled puppy, sitting in the rain alone, and the vision dissipated. I couldn’t leave him there, not with the storm bearing down.

I tucked the puppy, along with the towel, under my jacket and strode quickly to the office. Opening the door, I blinked at the bright lights, wiping rain off my forehead.

“We’re closed.” A woman came around the corner and stopped behind the counter. Her blonde hair was slicked back into a ponytail, and she wore a white jacket, the name stitched on it indicating she was Dr. Lennox. Why did that name sound so familiar?

“I’m looking for Dr. Stoll.” I lifted one side of my jacket to reveal the brown puppy.

“Oh.” She let out a soft sound and came around the counter to stand in front of me. She was close. Too close.

I breathed in the smell of her shampoo, something soft and flowery. Her fingers fluttered over the puppy.

“May I?” She looked up at me with wide brown eyes flecked with gold and green.

I nodded, my throat suddenly constricting at the beautiful woman who stood before me.

“Thank you, Officer Cross.”

“It’s Dexter.”

She smiled at me before she carefully cradled the puppy in her hands and cooed unintelligible words. The puppy preened at her attention. I stood a little straighter, too, wondering what it was would be like if she turned those hands and soft voice on me.

“There’s a cut on his stomach,” I finally ground out, my voice sounding gravelly, like I’d swallowed rocks.

She carefully turned him onto his back. “I’ll need to get a better look, but I think he needs stitches. Where did you find him?”

I followed her to the exam room. She set the shivering puppy on the metal exam table, and I moved closer running a hand over his small head and down his back, hoping he’d settle at my presence.

“He likes that,” Dr. Lennox said, with a smile and a tip of her head toward where my hand rested on his back.

She washed her hands before giving the puppy a treat. After a few seconds, she looked at his eyes and ears. Then she rolled him onto his back and examined his stomach. She sighed. “He definitely needs stitches. It’s a good thing you brought him in. He wouldn’t have lasted long in this weather.”

I grunted, suddenly very uncomfortable with her praise. Dr. Stoll took the animal and did her job.

With one hand steadying the puppy, she said, “I should take care of it now before it gets infected.”

This is where I would normally have left, asked Dr. Stoll to keep me apprised of the puppy’s health and his efforts at either finding the owner or re-homing him.

“Are you here by yourself?” I hadn’t seen anyone when I’d come inside, but that didn’t mean anything.

“I sent everyone home because of the storm.”

My chest tightened at the thought of her being here alone, the unlocked door, the storm. Anything could happen. “You didn’t think you should head home, too?”

She smiled and threw a thumb over her shoulder. “I live over the garage.”

“Dr. Stoll’s okay with you being here by yourself?”

She sobered, her shoulders tightening. “He left me the business, so I’d say he’s okay with it.”

“He’s retired?” I asked carefully.

“He’s supposed to be, but he still comes in from time to time. He has a few favorite patients he can’t bear to part with.” Her voice was filled with affection.

“Hmm.”

Her gaze bounced from the puppy to me. “He told me there’s a police officer who brings in strays, and on nights like these, I should stay open for him. I assume you’re that guy?”

I nodded tightly, rolling my shoulders back.

She smiled up at me with admiration in her gaze. “I think it’s great.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, uncomfortable with her perusal. “Just doing my job.”

She smiled, amusement in her gaze as it traveled from my duty belt over my shiny badge to my face. “I thought your job was more people-related.”

“It is.” What was it about this woman? I couldn’t draw in a deep breath, and it had nothing to do with the uniform that was stretched taut over my bulletproof vest.

“Hmmm,” she hummed as she placed the puppy on his feet, her fingers probing his back.

If I closed my eyes, I could imagine the feel of her fingers ghosting over my chest, down my sternum, to my stomach. My abs contracted at the thought.

“Are you okay?” she asked me.

I opened my eyes, frustrated I’d let myself fall into a fantasy with her in front of me. “Of course.”

She smiled softly. “You don’t need to stick around. I can perform the procedure without any assistance.”

My jaw tightened. “I’d feel better if I did.”

She raised a brow at me. “That’s not necessary.”

“I want to make sure he’s okay.” I nodded toward the puppy, whose head was starting to droop from sheer exhaustion. That wasn’t the only reason. I didn’t want to leave her alone with the wind howling and the rain pelting the roof.

She studied me carefully before she sighed. “Why don’t you lock the front door? I don’t think you’ll be able to relax until you do.”

I spun on my heel and moved swiftly to the door; the pressure on my chest eased slightly when I turned the deadbolt.

The sky lit up with lightening, and there was a loud crack. The large tree by the road fell, blocking the entrance to the parking lot. The lights flickered and then went off.

“What happened?” Dr. Lennox rushed into the room with the puppy cradled against her chest.

It was dark, but I could see her face as she moved closer. She was scared.

“I think lightening hit the tree.” I gestured toward the parking lot.

“Oh no. It looks like you’re stuck here now.”

“We should move away from these windows.” Outside, the storm was still raging, and I was worried the other tree might be hit next.

I rested a hand on her lower back and used the authority I reserved for when I acted as a police officer to maneuver her back to the exam room. The lights flicked back on.

She handed me the puppy. “I need to get things ready. There’s a generator in case the lights go out permanently.”

I tucked him against my chest, his soft fur tickling the scruff of my chin.

She moved into the hallway behind the exam rooms and into a surgery room. She moved confidently, quickly gathering supplies. “He’s so sweet. You should keep him.”

My jaw tightened. My life wasn’t conducive to bringing home strays. “I’ve never kept one.”

She tipped her head to the side, considering me. “Why not?”

I tucked him against my heart, hoping the steady rhythm of my heart would soothe him. He was still shaking, either from being cold and wet or from the storm, or both. “If I adopt one, I might keep them all.”

She bit her lip as if suppressing a smile.

I wasn’t here to endear myself to her. I wasn’t even sure what I was doing. It was completely out of character for me to do anything other than to leave the stray in Dr. Stoll’s capable hands.

“You should name him before I put him under.”

My stomach dropped. “Why?”

She gestured at a folder with a blank intake form stapled to it. “I have to write a chart for him, and he should have a name.”

I looked down at the way he was sleeping peacefully in my arms, remembering how forlorn he was in that alleyway—forlorn and soaked through. “Lucky.”

She smiled, brighter than I’d ever seen. “It suits him.”

Warmth spread through my chest. “What’s your name?”

“Delilah,” she said softly as she gestured for me to set Lucky on the metal table.

Why did that name sound so familiar? It was unique and beautiful. Just like her.

“My sister’s boyfriend is a police officer.”

It could have been anyone’s girlfriend, but something about her name was tugging at my memories. “Are you Remi’s sister?”

The realization had my heart beating faster.

She smiled softly. “The one and only.”

Remi was dating my partner, Colton, and Delilah was her sister. “You’re Colton’s ex.”

Delilah shook her head. “We dated in high school. It seems like forever ago now.”

I’d counseled Colton on this very issue. Dating his ex’s younger sister. It had been years, and since their breakup was amicable, I didn’t see the problem. But now that my partner’s ex was standing in front me, confident, professional, and achingly beautiful, I wasn’t so sure about anything.

“Do you know him well?” she asked, and I wondered if she still harbored feelings for him.

“He’s my partner.” The words felt like ash in my mouth. Even if I liked her, anything would most likely be off-limits. I didn’t think Colton would appreciate me dating his ex.

Her mouth dropped open slightly as she gazed from the puppy to me. “I didn’t realize.”

It shouldn’t matter, but I had to know more about her. “You okay with Colton dating your sister?”

She straightened, considering me before answering, “I never believed in things like soul mates, but they are so in love with each other.”

“No hard feelings?” I wasn’t sure why it mattered, but it did.

She laughed. “Of course not. I want my sister to be happy. It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

I racked my brain, trying to remember any nugget of information that I’d heard from Colton. Delilah was older by a few years. They started dating in high school and broke up in college before he enlisted. Then I remembered what set Remi and her sister apart. “You were adopted.”

I’ve responded to enough neglect and child abuse calls to know what it was like for children to be removed from a parent’s home. It was never a good situation.

Delilah sobered. “That’s right.”

“You took care of her.” Colton admired that about her.

“It’s what any big sister,or brother, would do.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Few police officers took strays to the vet for care during an impending storm.

“She was my responsibility.” She pressed her lips into a firm line as if she were physically stopping herself from saying anything else.

“I was eight or nine. She’s three years younger.”

“You were too young to have any responsibilities.”

She smiled without any humor. “I’d do anything for my sister.”

She was a good person.

Delilah took the puppy from me. “My parents were more interested in partying than taking care of us. They thought they could drop us off with social services for a night and pick us up the next day.”

“That’s not what happened.” I knew the process. Any removal meant at least six months of parenting classes and counseling.

She shook her head slowly. “But our foster parents were the best thing to happen to us.”

“They adopted you.”

“Eventually. We went back to our biological parents until they screwed up again.

Anger coursed through my body at the selfishness of her parents. “Things were worse for you when you went back.”

“It was worth it because we got our adoptive parents in the process.” Her lips curved into a smile.

That may be, but she wasn’t without scars. Everything about her story intrigued me. Although, she wasn’t rescuing humans anymore. Instead, she took care of animals, nurturing them and finding them loving homes. My heart contracted inside my chest.

Delilah said she didn’t believe in soul mates. Did that mean she didn’t believe in love? She probably didn’t trust that people would stick around. How could she when her own parents gave up?

I wanted to get to know her, and from the sound of the storm gusting outside and the tree blocking my exit, we might have all night.

CHAPTER TWO

DELILAH

MY HANDS WERE a little shaky even though I knew my way around an operating room. It had nothing to do with the storm. It was the six-foot-something broad-shouldered police officer standing guard.

When he was holding Lucky, his entire body softened. Wet, dark hair fell over his forehead, and his chin was lined with scruff. His big hands cradling the small, defenseless puppy had my heart flip-flopping in my chest. His shoulders rounded as if he’d protect the puppy. I wondered if he could protect me from the storm raging inside me.

My parents gave us up twice. Then my one serious boyfriend, Colton, walked away without an explanation. I told my sister when she started dating him that it had been amicable, and I guess on his end it was. I was the one left holding the pieces, wondering what I’d done wrong. Why I hadn’t measured up. I’d concluded that there was something flawed in me that made people want to leave.

I hid those feelings from everyone, including my adopted parents. I never wanted them to feel like they hadn’t saved me and Remi when they had. The reality was I was broken. They couldn’t have fixed me if they tried, and in the back of my mind, I worried they’d send me back to foster care.

“I remember Colton saying that you worked at a veterinary practice in Virginia.”

“I did.” It hadn’t worked out because the owner’s son thought he should be in line to inherit the practice. Seeing the writing on the wall, I put some feelers out, and hit the jack pot with Dr. Stoll’s practice. He wanted to give his practice someone local, who’d allow him to pop in now and then to see patients.

“What made you come back?”

“I wanted to run my own practice, and Dr. Stoll was selling.” Technically, he’d agreed to an installment contract. I had a few years to pay it, but the pressure was on. “Plus, my family is here.”

“I think what you do is impressive.”

My shoulders relaxed at the change in topic. “I would think being a police office is more important.”

He hummed. “Not sure about that.”

I’d settled the already sleeping pup on his side and inserted the medicine through the IV. Cleaning the area around the wound, I asked, “Are you sure you want to stick around for this?”

Dexter nodded as he looked uncertainly at Lucky.

I bit back a smile. It would be interesting to see how long he lasted.

I worked quickly to suture the wound, eager to finish Lucky’s procedure, check on the other animals who were staying overnight for observation or were recovering from surgeries, and head home.

It was possible there’d be flooding downtown, and I suspected animals would get caught up in that and need assistance. I wanted to be well-rested so I could help tomorrow.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Dexter sway on his feet.

“You need to sit.” I moved to him, guiding him to the chair in the room.

He sat with his legs wide, his hands hanging between his legs. I pushed his head down. “Breathe.”

I pulled off my surgical gloves and rubbed his back. My fingers tingled at the way his muscles contracted under my touch. I told myself this was purely for medicinal purposes.

His head still hung, but his shoulders relaxed when he said, “Thanks.”

My fingers itched to move to his neck and massage the tension I saw there. But I resisted. This wasn’t a social call.

Dexter cleared his throat. “I’m okay now.”

I went to the kitchen to fill up a glass of water for him and to give myself a few seconds to breathe. I needed to get it together. I was in the middle of surgery. I shouldn’t be having naughty thoughts about the hot cop who saved puppies.

I drank a few sips, resting the cool glass against my forehead. I felt overheated, as if touching Dexter had lit a match inside me. I had a sinking feeling it would burn until he put it out.

I drained my glass before filling a second one for Dexter and then carried it to him where he still sat.

He lifted his head when I returned. He still looked slightly pale, but there was something else simmering in his dark eyes. Something that made me think he’d felt the same thing I had.

I needed to find a way to get him out of my system, or each time he came in with a stray animal, I’d be mush in his hands. He was literally irresistible.

I handed him the glass, my hand only shaking slightly as our fingers brushed.

“Thank you.” His voice sounded rough, like he was talking around rocks.

It rumbled through my chest, dislodging some of the doubt that had taken up residence the second he’d walked through the door, asking for my predecessor.

He drank the water, his Adam’s apple working.

I ripped my gaze away from the sight. “Let me finish up.”

“Does it bother you that I’m here?” he asked quietly.

There was something about his gaze, probably from his years of interrogation experience, that made it feel like he saw right through me.

“Not at all.” I’d gotten very good at half-truths and deflections over the years.

I felt Dexter’s steady gaze, but I focused on Lucky. He wouldn’t get an infection on my watch.

When I finished up, I washed my hands. “He’ll be okay. I’ll keep a close eye on him tonight.”

Dexter’s expression relaxed. “I’m going to check on the weather.”

He stood, dwarfing the room with his size, and walked down the hall, out of sight. I breathed freely for the first time since he showed up, moving Lucky to a bed in the kennel, where the other dogs were already sleeping.

I cleaned the surgery room and prepped it for the next day before heading to the lobby to turn out the lights. Dexter stood near the large window at the front, and slowly turned as I approached. “I don’t think I can drive in this, much less get past that tree.”

He tipped his phone toward me where the app was providing flood and wind warnings. “The roads are closed.”

“It’s a good thing I can walk home.” I sucked in a breath, my chest tightening. My place was small. Too small to share with Dexter.

He raised a brow.

It was a terrible idea but the only option I could offer him. “Did you want to stay until the roads are cleared?”

Dexter tipped his head to the side. “If you don’t mind.”

I smiled to cover my discomfort. There was only one bed. Would I be able to control myself around him? “Of course not.”

Do you need to check on the animals through the night?”

“I’ll probably bring Lucky with me. He’s the only one recovering from a recent surgery. That way I won’t need to go back and forth. The other animals can be checked on in the morning.”

“I’ll carry him. Where is he?” Dexter was already walking in long strides toward the kennel area. I followed him, quickening my pace to keep up.

“Just in here,” I said, brushing past him to push open the door.

Lucky slept on his side, the bandage around his middle making him look even smaller. Dexter picked up the bed with Lucky in it, and said, “Do you what you need to do to close this place up. We need to hunker down.”

I swear my pussy spasmed when he said that. Hunker down with Dexter? I was in so much trouble. I had visions of him sharing my one bed in my tiny studio apartment. Every inch of my skin tingled from the thought.

“You don’t mind if I stay?” Dexter asked as I walked through the building, shutting off the lights.

“Of course not.” Then I swallowed hard. I needed to keep my distance from him if I wanted to come out of this unscathed.

I grabbed my rain jacket and pulled up the hood up before Dexter pushed open the door to the parking lot.

As soon as I stepped outside, the rain pelted my face like sharp needle pricks. The wind gusted around us, making the walk to the garage treacherous.

A strong arm banded around my shoulder. Dexter had shifted Lucky to the other hand. I tucked my face into his chest to block the wind, breathing in his scent—leather and something spicy. I reluctantly pulled away from him when we reached the steps. My breaths were erratic from the proximity of his body.

I unlocked the door and pushed it open so Dexter could precede me inside. I followed and shut the door firmly behind us. We were soaked from the short walk.

Dexter gently placed Lucky and his bed on the floor. “I’ll start a fire.”

I peeled off the rain jacket, blowing warm air over my frozen fingers. “It’s bad out there.”

Dexter shot me a look over his shoulder before he crouched by the fireplace. “That’s why you shouldn’t have stayed open.”

“Then how would I have saved this guy?” I patted the still-sleeping Lucky.

Dexter stacked several pieces of wood into the fireplace.

I pulled off my boots. “I’m going to change quickly.”

Dexter didn’t answer as I grabbed clothes from my drawers and headed into the only private space in my apartment, the tiny bathroom.

I towel dried my hair, wondering how the evening had taken such a crazy turn. There was a police officer in my living room. One that saved people and animals. It was like he was sent by someone to tempt me.

I didn’t get close to many people, but maybe we could take advantage of the one bed. I could say goodbye to him in the morning, and maybe we’d have a repeat the next time he stopped by late with a hurt stray. There was no need to complicate things with talk about our pasts or emotions.

I peeled off my soaked clothes, dried my skin, and pulled on the soft sweatpants and T-shirt. In my haste, I forgot to grab panties and a bra. I blew out a breath. I couldn’t run back and grab them now; it would just draw attention to it.

I pulled a sweatshirt over the T-shirt, hoping it would hide my erect nipples. I pulled out my ponytail and drew a brush through the tangles before I opened the door. The room was lit with the fireplace casting a warm glow over Dexter’s face, where he stood with his arm braced against the mantle.

“It’s all yours.” I threw a thumb over my shoulder at the bathroom. “I’m sorry I don’t have any dry clothes for you.”

“I keep workout clothes in my car.”

I hated that he had to go back out in the storm. When he left, I sank onto the couch and drew the soft fleece blanket over me. I should be looking for food to offer him, but I was shaking, probably from a combination of the cold and the adrenaline rush. The sounds of the storm were more pronounced in my small space, the rain clamoring noisily on the roof, the wind shaking the small structure.

Dexter knocked softly before opening. I’d started to panic that he’d left. I shook it off because I was the strong one, the one who looked out for her younger sister. I didn’t need a man to take care of me. But taking in Dexter’s strong presence, I wanted to lean on him.

I moved to get him fresh towels and balanced them on the small vanity in the bathroom. When I turned, I found myself facing Dexter in the small space. My breath hitched.

Water dripped from his hair. His eyes were dark and unreadable.

Without thinking, I brushed one dark lock of hair off his forehead. I wanted to linger, to caress his cheek.

Dexter lowered his head, his mouth ghosting over my ear. “Thank you for letting me stay here.”

I should ease around him and give him space, but I didn’t. “Of course.”

Droplets of water fell from his hair onto me, leaving goose bumps on my arms. I grabbed one of the towels, intending to hand it to him. Instead, I pressed it to his cheek and forehead.

His eyes darkened, and I sucked in a breath at the heat I saw in them.

The rain beat a steady rhythm on the roof, in time with my heart. I had lots of ideas of what I’d like to do with this man. None of them good. He had me questioning all my rules.

He smiled like he knew exactly what I was thinking.

I wanted to touch the soft material of his shirt to see if he was as hard as he looked underneath. I wanted to trace the planes of his muscles, to feel them jump and quiver under my touch. I wanted to feel his mouth on mine.

“You like what you see, sweetheart?”

Yes. Yes, I did. The endearment had my heart flip-flopping in my chest, even though I knew he was merely flirting. He probably acted like this with every attractive female he encountered. I wasn’t special.

I should harden my heart against him, but the heat emanating from his body had me moving closer. I pressed my palms against his chest. Instead of muscle, I felt the vest he wore underneath.

One slip, and I knew we’d be on that bed, exploring each other’s bodies. Tipping my head back, I couldn’t remember why indulging in that fantasy would be a bad idea.

His eyes were heated, with a glint of a challenge in them. He seemed to be waiting for me to decide. It felt like time was suspended.

We had this one night. It didn’t have to mean anything.

Mind made up, I unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders. He took over removing the Velcro on his bulletproof vest and pulled it over his head. Finally, he was down to a white shirt.

I pulled the shirt up, my hands traveling over the skin of his abs. His stomach muscles jumped at my touch. If this is all we had, I wanted to savor it.

CHAPTER THREE

DEXTER

HER FINGERS GLIDED over my sensitive skin with a feather-light touch. Her damp hair fell down her back, and I wanted to test the weight of it, anchoring her to me so that I could kiss her lips.

Something about her and this evening had me barreling toward danger faster than I could stop myself. I wanted to get to know her, but my body was telling me to touch her, taste her, devour her first.

We had this one night where reality wouldn’t—no, couldn’t—penetrate. Tomorrow, the rain and wind would stop, the trees would be moved, and I’d be back on the street, patrolling the small town. Tonight, I was just a man who needed her.

“Are you okay?” I’d seen the way her eyes had sparked when I called her sweetheart. It had just slipped out, and it felt right. This woman deserved to be cherished. She was one of a kind.

I tried to remember what Colton told me about his ex. She was the older sister. She took care of Remi. She was smart, sweet, and caring.

I knew she’d burn hot, and suddenly, that was all I could think about. Not the storm or what would happen tomorrow. Not the possibility of losing power or being trapped in this tiny apartment with a gorgeous woman. I wanted her.

Her eyes closed and then flickered slowly open, and I saw everything she’d been hiding. Desire. Longing.

“I want you.”

Her eyes flashed with heat.

I traced a finger down her cheek. “I have a feeling you want me, too.”

My voice sounded rusty, as if I hadn’t used it in a while.

She nodded.

I leaned in close, my lips hovering over hers. “I need your words.”

“I want you,” she breathed across my lips, sparking the fire I’d banked all night.

I didn’t need any other encouragement. My hand dived into her hair, tugging her slightly back so I could lower my lips to hers. She was warm and sweet.

She arched so that her breasts pressed against my chest.

Her hand touched my cheek, and I pulled back.

Her eyes were full of emotion. “This is just sex. Nothing else.”

“Of course.” It was what I wanted, so why did a pang of disappointment fill my gut?

One night with this woman. No strings. No attachments. No promises of tomorrow. It was perfect. So why was I doubting everything?

Her hand caressed my cheek. “Please?”

With one soft plea, I was putty in her hands. I’d do anything she asked of me. I crowded her against the countertop and kissed her, pouring everything I’d held back into it.

I pushed her shirt up to expose her stomach and crouched lower to kiss her belly button, licking a trail down to the waistband of her sweatpants. She shimmied out of her pants, leaving her bottom half bare.

“You’re killing me,” I said as I breathed her in.

She rolled her hips, inviting me closer. She was musky and sweet.

I pushed her feet farther apart while she pulled her sweatshirt over her head. She wasn’t wearing a bra. I pressed a hand against my rapidly beating heart, trying to slow myself down. I wanted to lick her pussy and see what she tasted like.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked softly.

She was naked, her pussy already glistening. I could taste her here, but I wanted to take my time.

“Bed,” was all I could manage before I scooped her up and crossed the room, depositing her on it. I ripped my shirt off and pushed down my pants. My cock was hard and throbbing.

Her gaze drifted from my chest to my stomach and locked on my dick.

She licked her lips, and I moved over her. “Like what you see?”

Her lips quirked. “I love it.”

I growled as I sucked her nipple into my mouth, swirling my tong around it and biting it gently before giving the same attention to the second. She lifted her hips, rubbing against my cock. As her sweet heat surrounded me, all rational thought slipped away. I pulled back so I could line up my cock with her entrance.

“Condom,” she said before I could nudge her opening.

“Fuck.” I sat back on my heels, running a hand through my hair. I’d almost forgotten.

“You don’t have one.”

“I wasn’t expecting this. I was in my uniform.” I never carried protection on me at work. There was never a need, and if I had a date, I always went home and changed. I wasn’t prepared for her.

She pointed at her nightstand. “Top drawer.”

Thank fuck she was prepared. I tried not to think about how many other guys she’d invited back to her apartment over the garage. I leaned over her to pull open the drawer, revealing an unopened box. I pulled out a condom, dropping it on the bed next to us.

“You sure about this?” I asked, stroking my cock, and biting back a groan at the sensation.

“Uh-huh,” she said, her gaze locked on my hand.

I smoothed the latex on before moving over her and caressing her breasts as I slid my dick through her folds.

She moaned softly and lifted her hips. I watched her through hooded lids, needing to see the desire for me in her eyes as I plucked her nipple with my fingers. My muscles were taut with the pressure of holding back.

She wrapped her legs around my hips, and her arms around my neck pulled me down to her. She sucked the lobe of my ear into her mouth and gently bit it. “I’ll ask one more time. What are you waiting for?”

I chuckled, liking that I was driving her crazy. I slid inside her one excruciating inch at a time. I wanted all night, but she was calling the shots. I braced my hands on the bed on either side of her head, watching her expression as I slowly filled her. Her walls surrounded me—warm and wet.

“You feel incredible.”

Every word of praise made her soften more; her eyes lit with something indescribable. Emotion?

I wanted to keep stoking the fire I’d built, so I leaned closer to kiss her, alternating with sweet words of encouragement. You’re so beautiful. I can’t believe you’re mine. I want you.

Each word had her gripping me harder, kissing me deeper. This girl was a rocket waiting to go off, and I wanted to be there when she exploded.

My thrusts were shallow so I could grind my pelvis on her clit. Soft moans and pleas fell from Delilah’s mouth, but I wanted more.

I leaned back, moving to long thrusts. I tried a different angle until her moans because more pronounced, and I was satisfied I’d found that secret spot on the top wall of her vagina.

Her eyes had gone unfocused, her nails raking a path over the muscles of my back. “Dex, I can’t—”

I leaned down to kiss her. “You can.”

With an arm banded around her back, I lifted her so that her legs were spread over my thighs, and I sank deeper.

Delilah shook her head, her eyes a little wild, as the muscles of her thighs tightened over me. “It’s too much.”

I wanted her to lose control, and I squeezed her ass to lift her. Sinking down on me, she mumbled unintelligible words.

I suspected she was close, a mass of sensation. I leaned down slightly to suck her nipple into my mouth.

“Oh, God. I’m going to—”

Then she shattered around me, shaking and trembling, her pussy clamping down hard. Tingling erupted in my spine as I took over, moving her hips back to the bed and widening her legs so that I could thrust deeper. With one last snap of my hips, I shuddered and bit her shoulder, only to soothe it with my tongue.

Our skin was sweaty, my muscles protesting, but euphoria stole over me. I held her tightly to me, a little shell shocked. I’d never experienced anything like that before.

It felt like so much more than a chance encounter or a one-night stand. It felt like a free fall into something bigger.

I shifted to my side, brushing her hair out of her face. “Are you okay?”

She nodded. “I can’t move, though.”

I kissed her softly. “You don’t have to.”

I went to the bathroom to take care of the condom and grabbed a washcloth to clean her.

She hummed appreciatively when the warm cloth touched her.

When I gathered her to me, she said, “I’ve never had anyone take care of me. Not like this.”

I kissed her shoulder in response, unable to tell her what I was thinking. I’ll do the same thing next time, if you let me. I didn’t think she’d welcome words like that.

Instead, I tightened my arms around her as I listened to the sound of the rain striking the roof and the occasional wind gusts reminding me to stay alert. There weren’t any tall trees near her garage apartment, but I wanted to know if the power went out.

I had this overwhelming urge to protect her. I wasn’t sure she’d allowed much of that in her past, but I wanted to be someone she could count on.

I MUST HAVE DRIFTED off at some point. Soft kisses on my chest woke me when it was still dark outside. The wind was gusting occasionally, but it sounded like the rain had let up.

Delilah moved down my stomach and between my legs. I sucked in a breath when her tongue circled the head of my cock. I should have told her she didn’t need to do that, but I wanted her mouth on me.

I brushed the hair out of her face so I could see her better. The dwindling fire illuminated the sparkle in her eyes. My heart contracted. She wanted this. She wanted me.

She took me in her mouth, and I was lost. She alternated swirling her tongue around the head and sucking me down deep. I fisted my hands uselessly. She was too far away to touch.

“Come here,” I said, my voice rough with sleep.

She moved so that I could reach between her legs, my fingers sliding through her slick folds. The fact that this was turning her on sent me higher. I resisted thrusting into her mouth, not wanting to make her uncomfortable, but the act of holding myself back still heightened all my senses.

Her hair brushed against my hypersensitive skin; her nipples grazed my hips. I wanted more.

“Delilah.”

She responded by sucking me harder. I struggled to regain control of the situation because I wanted her on top of me. I wanted to watch her come undone.

I reared up and lifted her to straddle my lap. She licked her lips and guided my cock inside her. I sucked her nipple into my mouth as she slid down my shaft. Pleasure filled my brain. I loved how she felt in my arms, her slick heat surrounding me.

I lay back on the cool sheets, letting her take control. She set the pace, slow at first, but as she threw her head back, hair trailing over my thighs, her movements became jerky. I palmed her breasts, rubbing them with my thumbs. She moaned at my touch, rocking over me, chasing her orgasm.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Her eyes popped open then. I wondered how it could feel so good when we’d just met. There was a bone-deep connection I’d never experienced before.

She bit her lip when I moved one hand to where we connected, gathering the wetness to circle her clit. There was this sense of desperation. When the rain and wind stopped, it would erase whatever magical thing was happening between us.

When her orgasm hit, she shuddered and slumped over me. I carefully moved her to her back so that I didn’t slide out of her. I wasn’t ready to let her go.

She was slick and wet. I spread her legs wider, wanting to go deeper. Take her higher. I wanted to mark her so that she felt me in her soul. I resisted the familiar tingling in my spine, not ready for this feeling to end.

My orgasm washed over me like waves crashing against a rocky shore. I was spent, but I didn’t want the night to end. I didn’t want to see the light of day. I wasn’t ready for everything to change.

At some point in the night, we’d lost power. The clock on the microwave blinked twelve o’clock. I reluctantly got out of bed to put more wood on the fire, wondering what I was doing.

I wanted to know Delilah intimately, not just physically. I wanted to know why she wanted to be a veterinarian, why she’d moved back home, why she’d stayed open late for me. I wanted to know what it was like for her when her parents gave her up, when she went to live in a foster home, whether her adopted parents loved her like she was their own. If she’d had any serious boyfriends besides Colton.

This wasn’t a one-night stand for me, but while I stoked the fire, I vowed to take her cue on where we went from here. If she freaked out in the morning, I’d give her space. I’d bide my time because something told me she was worth the effort.

I moved back to bed and finally fell asleep when the sky started to lighten. The worst of the storm was over, and I could finally relax.

In the morning, the sheets next to me were cool when I woke. The smell of coffee had me blinking my eyes open.

Delilah placed a steaming mug on the nightstand before moving to stand next to the bed, cradling a second. “We lost power at some point, but it’s back on now.”

She wore a soft looking navy T-shirt that said Sweet Dreams over tiny white and blue tie-dyed shorts.

“Come here.” My fingers itched to touch her.

She sat on the bed next to my hip, and my hand settled on the expanse of bare thigh. “Lucky’s okay. I carried him outside to pee, fed him, and gave him pain meds. He’s sleeping again.”

I couldn’t believe I’d slept through all of that, but I could see us doing this. One of us taking the dog out, making the coffee, letting the other sleep in. It was so natural it had me longing for more.

Delilah’s gaze flicked away from mine. “On the news, they said it would take a while to get to all the downed trees.”

My gaze rested on my tan hand covering her thigh. Her skin was smooth and soft. My heart clenched at the idea of leaving. Hopefully, the storm cleanup would mean more time together. “How are you feeling this morning?”

She smiled softly. “A little sore.”

I growled, wanting to soothe her with my tongue. The urge was so strong, I tightened my grip. “You’re going to want to put that coffee down.”

Her eyes widened as she placed the mug next to mine. I lifted her and placed her higher on the bed, flat on her back. I was still naked from the night before, but she was wearing too many clothes. I wasted no time pulling her shorts down her thighs. She wasn’t wearing any panties.

I settled between her legs, anchoring my arms under her thighs. “Take off your shirt.”

She scrambled to comply once she realized I wouldn’t start until she was naked.

“Gorgeous,” I said, breathing in her scent.

She sighed, and I wanted to hear that sound for the rest of my life. I wanted to make her feel good.

“You want me to make the pain go away?” I breathed across her pussy, not touching her yet.

“Yes, please,” she said breathlessly.

Her hips moved restlessly, so I moved one arm to hold her hips down. With one last glance at her face where she was biting her lip, I licked her. Her hips bucked under my arm.

I wanted to make an impression on her, to make her delirious with pleasure. She probably never let anyone take care of her, but I was going to do that for her. I was going to make her realize how amazing it could be.

I alternated between soft and firm touches of my tongue, and brushes of my scruff against the soft skin of her inner thighs until she was trembling. Her arm was thrown over her forehead, and the other hand gripped the sheets.

“Dex, please.”

I loved that she’d shortened my name. I used my fingers to sink into her heat, using a come-hither motion. Her mouth fell open with a gasp.

I wanted to drive her wild with need, have her lose all sense of control. The need to soothe the soreness from last night quickly shifted to easing the ache inside her.

I shifted and wiped my mouth on the sheet before lining up my cock with her pussy. Right before I entered her, I realized I hadn’t grabbed a condom. I leaned over the bed to grab another one from the box.

She widened her legs as she watched me.

“You want my cock?” I asked as I lined up with her entrance.

She licked her lips. “Yes, please.”

“So polite.” I dropped my head so I could kiss her. She lifted her hips, chasing the feel of my cock against her. This woman would be the end of me.

When I entered her, I gathered her to me, whispering into her ear, “I want to stay inside you forever. I never want to leave.”

I kept my thrusts shallow, driving both of us up and up and up. I wasn’t ready to come down. I didn’t want that damn tree moved or reality to set in. Here, in this apartment, it was just her and me and whatever this was. I had a feeling that when I left, she’d regroup, and throw up her walls again, but I liked her like this—soft, warm, and pliant.

Mine. She was mine.

With a groan, I leaned back on my heels, pulling her with me, so I could thrust longer, deeper, harder.

She moaned with each pass, her eyes drifted shut.

I stilled deep inside her. “Look at me.”

Her eyes fluttered open; her eyes filled with an emotion I couldn’t quite read. With her gaze locked on mine, I moved. I wanted her to know we were in this together. That she couldn’t escape from whatever was happening.

I watched her as I drove her impossibly higher. She arched into me when she went over, and I wrapped an arm around her back, holding her to me as I followed her. Her soft curves fit perfectly against mine.

I kissed the side of her mouth, her chin, her neck. She was irresistible.

I moved my hands to brace myself on either side of her head. I needed to see her face. “You’re so beautiful when you come.”

She was beautiful all the time—when she was taking care of a puppy, recounting the news, or worried about the storm. I wanted to see every expression, feel every tremor, be there for every happy moment, and support her through the sad.

My chest filled with hope and something a little foreign—tenderness and protectiveness. She brought it all out of me.

CHAPTER FOUR

DELILAH

I’D NEVER FELT SO TAKEN care of, so cherished, when he held me to him while we orgasmed together. This was supposed to be just sex, a reprieve from real life, so why did it feel so intense?

He’d mumbled sweet things in my ears—how beautiful I was, gorgeous even. It would be so easy to believe him. It would be so easy to take what he was offering. A connection. Something I’d always avoided. I knew how loved ones could let you down. It was self-preservation to keep people at arm’s length.

Every time I tried to put distance between us, he’d pull me to him for another round, sucking me in deeper. He held me, murmured sweet things across my skin. He couldn’t be real. This was a dream. When the storm was cleaned up, we’d go back to our real lives.

I didn’t want to find out how Remi would react to the news of me sleeping with her boyfriend’s partner.

Dexter shifted to his side, propping himself up on one elbow so that he was staring down at me. He traced his fingers down my shoulder, my elbow, then my hip, and the curve of my butt. I’d never felt as naked as I did while lying in his arms, under his gaze. I felt vulnerable. Inside, I was trembling with the idea that he saw me like no one else ever had.

“I like you, Delilah.”

I licked my suddenly dry lips. “This wasn’t supposed to be—”

“Serious?”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak without my voice cracking. What was happening to me? Where was the strong woman with the tough outer shell? The one who protected her sister when our parents dropped her off with a social worker and watched them walk away. How had this man gotten under my skin so easily?

“I didn’t plan for this, but whatever it is, I like it. I want more.” His tone was a mixture of awe and admiration.

Could I have more than one night with him and keep feelings out of it? “I don’t know.”

“Have you ever felt like this before?”

I scanned my body, taking stock. I felt a little sore from the several rounds of sex, but it was a delicious memory of what happened. I felt good. Well-loved and cared for. I liked his attention on me. I liked it too much. “No.”

“I think it’s worth exploring, don’t you?”

I grasped on to the only thing standing in our way besides my relationship issues. “Colton is dating my sister.”

He raised his brow, his gaze issuing a challenge. “I didn’t date your sister. There’s no reason we can’t pursue this.”

“It’s not a good idea,” I said, even as my heart twinged at the idea of pursuing something more with him.

“I’ll take care of you.” He kissed my lips. It was sweet and soft. A promise.

I wanted to grab those words out of the air and place them into a jar, screwing the lid on tight. When I had doubts, all I’d need to do was look at them.

He must have taken my silence for acquiescence. “We should get dressed and check out the damage.”

“I need to check on the other animals.” My vet techs had called out due to flooding and closed roads, but the parking lot was inaccessible with the tree down.

Dexter insisted on making omelets since I’d let him stay last night. After we cleaned the kitchen, Dexter picked up what he could—branches and debris from the storm—while I called around to get on the schedule for tree removal. Most of the companies were helping with the roads first. Businesses and homes would be last. Afterward, Dexter joined me in the clinic, where I took care of the animals who’d stayed overnight. He helped me walk the dogs and feed them.

He loved animals. I couldn’t believe he didn’t have any pets of his own.

When we fed the last animal, Dexter said, “There’s not much more we can do.”

I led him back to my apartment over the garage to make us sandwiches. Thankfully, we had power, but according to the news, many places were out, and couldn’t expect to get it back for several days.

“The clinic was fortunate to only have a downed tree,” I said to him when we finished cleaning up lunch. I was especially grateful that Dexter had stayed the night. I would have been scared if I was alone, worried about another tree falling. But with Dexter here, I could relax. I didn’t have to be strong.

Dexter sat on the couch, pulling Lucky into his lap. My heart flip-flopped at the sweet sight. Lucky was his. He just didn’t know it yet.

I’d gotten a flurry of texts while we were at the clinic. Reading through them, I said, “Remi’s worried about me. My parents, too.”

I shot off messages saying that everything was okay, but that I was stuck with the downed tree.

Dexter set his phone aside. “I told Colton I was here. I can’t go to work with my cruiser stuck.”

I grimaced. “Remi’s going to put it together.”

I didn’t mention it. But I was positive she was going to show up when she was able to, and demand answers. She might have been the younger sister, but we were close because of our upbringing. Even though we had caring parents now, that hadn’t always been the case. For a long time, we only had each other. And that closeness never wore off.

He folded an arm behind his head. “You think they’ll show up?”

“Uh-huh.” A smile played on my lips because I was sure they would.

Dexter moved closer, settling his hands on my hips.

My stomach dipped.

His eyes darkened. “I guess we’ll have to make good use of our time alone.”

I didn’t answer because my skin was heating with his words, and I wanted more. When the tree was cleared and my sister showed up, this bubble we were in would pop. I wasn’t ready for that. I wanted to sink back into the connection we’d formed in this apartment.

He pulled me against him as he lowered his head to kiss me. I gave in and lost myself in him. I didn’t want to think about what would happen next, or what any of this meant. He took his time with me, slowly removing my clothes, baring me to him. He moved me to the bed, worshipping me with his mouth and hands. I was mindless with need by the time he slowly entered me.

With slow, measured strokes, he drew me up and over. I gasped when I crested. I’d never felt anything like this before. Each time was better, more somehow. More intense. More pleasurable. It was like each time drew us closer to each other, tied us together in some inexplicable way. It wasn’t visible on the outside, but I could feel it. The ties that were slowly binding us together.

He settled deep inside me, groaning into my neck. His body was slick with sweat; his weight pressing me into the mattress a welcome reminder of what we’d shared.

He rolled to his side. “I’m not ready to let you go.”

The words stuck in my throat. Me either. But I wasn’t sure how to do a relationship. I hadn’t been in one since Colton, and that had just fizzled out. This felt bigger somehow, more intense and meaningful, and I didn’t want to screw it up with my issues. The baggage from my childhood was sure to trip me up.

“Hey,” he said, running a hand through my hair. “We can just promise each other we’ll see where this goes. We don’t need labels.”

Could I make that promise? “I don’t know.”

He rested a hand over my heart that was beating a steady rhythm under his gentle touch. “How do you feel inside?”

“Full. Content.” Hope was simmering just under his hand. Could I have this? Did I deserve it? Or would I screw it up?

“You feel good.” It wasn’t a question.

“This feels good.”

His eyes sparked at my words, and he lowered his head to kiss me softly. I could get used to this, and that scared me the most.

“I’ll be with you every step of the way. We’ll navigate this together.”

Here, in this apartment, walled off from everything else, it seemed possible. I closed my eyes, letting the warmth of his hand and the weight of his words sink into me and fill me with hope and something else; was it the beginning of love? I couldn’t be sure, but I’d be an idiot not to pursue this. This one man had quickly gotten under my defenses, and I wanted to explore this with him.

“You’re irresistible. I don’t think I could stay away if I tried.”

His words filled the holes in my soul until it felt like every inch of my skin was tingling.

My phone buzzed, and I reluctantly grabbed it from the nightstand. It was Remi. She and Colton were here.

I grimaced. “They’re here.”

Dexter groaned. “We’d better get dressed.”

The last few hours felt like a dream. One I never wanted to end.

Before we headed outside, Dexter pulled me in for a hug. His arms wrapped tightly around me. I hadn’t felt this protected, this safe, in forever. I’d always been the protector. I melted into his embrace, allowing myself to enjoy it.

“Whatever happens out there, we know what’s going on in here.” He pressed a hand to my heart.

I nodded, and he kissed me softly before we headed out. It would have been a normal day except for the huge tree blocking the entranceway.

Colton’s truck was parked on the road. He stood, leaning against the driver’s side, his arms crossed over his chest. Remi stood in front of him, her eyes narrowed on us. I was positive Remi would see through us and know what happened last night. Sometimes it seemed like she was psychic about that kind of stuff.

Dexter helped me over the tree, and he quickly followed.

“Are you okay?” Remi pulled me into her arms as soon as I cleared the tree; the worry on her face was evident.

“We’re fine,” I promised.

“You’re going to tell me everything,” she whispered into my ear. It sounded like more of a threat than a request.

I bit my lip to hold back the laugh. “I don’t know.”

The guys were discussing the flooding in the downtown area. Both Easton’s shop and the marketplace were affected since they were so close to the harbor. But most of the shops were on higher ground and escaped the rising water.

“As soon as I can get this tree removed, the clinic can open.” And life would go back to normal.

Dexter raised his arm as if inviting me to his side. I hesitated, feeling Remi’s curious gaze and Colton’s protective one. I hadn’t planned on outing us yet. I’d hoped to confide in Remi when we were alone. Tell her it was a one-night stand, and nothing more, but there was something about the hopeful expression on his face. It had me moving toward him, my heart overflowing with emotion.

It felt good to be tucked into his side. Protected and cared for. All things I secretly longed for but didn’t dare to hope could be mine.

Colton rocked back on his heels. “You care to tell me what the hell happened last night?”

“Not really,” Dexter said to him, but his gaze was on me.

I smiled at him. My chest ballooned with hope. Maybe I could have what Remi and Colton shared. Love. Happiness. It could all be mine if I was brave enough to go for it.

“We’re stuck here until the tree is removed.” And he didn’t sound upset about that. We had more time to get to know each other. Maybe this was our new reality. I couldn’t resist finding out.

I hope you loved Delilah and Dexter’s story! Read book 1 of this series, Only with You.

About the Author

Lea Coll worked as a trial attorney for over ten years. Now she stays home with her three children, plotting stories while fetching snacks and running them back and forth to activities. She enjoys the freedom of writing romance after years of legal writing.

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PAPER RINGS

LEN WEBSTER

PROLOGUE

MANNY

YOU NEVER FORGET.

As hard as you might, you remember every detail.

Each drop of rain.

Suitcase wheels on concrete.

Goodbyes and hugs.

Then you remember the loud sounds of the airport melting into apologetic whispers.

But most of all, you remember how it feels.

How it cripples you and leaves you breathless.

You never forget the worst day of your life.

And with every day after, the jagged remnants of what used to be never leaves you until it hurtles you to face the consequences.

The mess that you left behind when you ran and never looked back.

CHAPTER ONE

MANNY

I MADE a lot of promises in the span of a year.

I’ve broken almost every single one of them. And it’s quite clear that breaking them meant the people I love the most have lost faith in me. My promises no longer hold merit, and I don’t blame them for the way they look at me. The skepticism, the pity … their disappointment hurts the most, but I’ve done nothing to change anyone of their mistrust in me. So my appearance back in San Jose, California, is a surprise to everyone—including myself. I wish I’d gone back on my word like clockwork, but even disappointing the people I love has become exhausting, and tiring, and sometimes I just want to stop being who I am and be who I was.

The person I was before breathing felt almost like dying, before my entire world erupted when I came home from Chicago. But I can’t go back. As hard as I’ve tried, I can’t, and moving on hurts as much as experiencing it all again. But thankfully, where I stand isn’t there, and maybe that’s some kind of mercy I don’t deserve but accept.

“Chicago.” Eva, who lives in the unmissable bright pink house down the street, sighs in awe. “Have you seen the Bean? You must have seen the Bean.”

I nod with a forced smile I easily make. “I have,” I say as I swirl the water in my plastic cup. “It’s bigger than you can imagine.”

“And do you love living in Chicago? Going to IIT?”

“I do,” I admit in all honesty. My plan was always to do my undergrad at the Illinois Institute of Technology because it was my dream school. Now it’s my escape.

“But you should come home more often, Manny.” I can’t fault her for trying. She’s on the brink of fifty and has the stamina of an NFL player to keep going. I suspect she’s been influenced by my mother.

“I know.” I nervously bring the cup to my lips, taking a sip and forcing a meritless promise from escaping. Better to hide than disappoint. “It’s just—”

“Chicago needs you,” my older sister, Monique, sasses as she approaches us.

My gaze drops from Eva’s, and I lower my cup. I love my sister, but Monique is also one of the reasons I haven’t been home in a year. Her judgment of me hurts the most. Her accusations—while justified—are venom in my veins. My eyes begin to sting from the memory of her last screams over the phone, but I hold them back. I force them at bay because I won’t cry here. I’m a lot of things, but I will not shed a tear here. He doesn’t deserve that.

Him.

Just the thought of him has me tightening my grasp on the plastic Solo cup. My sister gives me an awkward hug—that I know is for show—and I smile at her, hoping she sees the ceasefire on my face. I did this for her. For our family. And I hope she accepts that and reschedules her disappointment for behind closed doors.

“School’s—”

“Not more important than family.”

I notice Ava wince, then start searching for an exit. She seems to find one as she waves to someone behind me before she smiles. This time, it’s not regret I see. It almost appears she appreciates me trying—at least that’s what I tell myself. “It’s good to have you home, Manuela.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Ava.” And then she departs and leaves me with Monique. Setting the cup on the table beside us, I let out a heavy sigh that does nothing to ease the tightness in my chest. I knew coming home wouldn’t be easy, but I’d prayed we wouldn’t make a scene. “Please, Mon. Not here.”

She shakes her head, and I know she won’t let up. It probably doesn’t help that I’ve ignored her calls for weeks. Out of both of my sisters, Monique hurts me the most. Marcella understands, but Mon delivers blow after blow, and I give her the fuel to do so. I’m not the world’s best sister, and I thought I could try to mend my broken bridges by coming home, but I haven’t earned the right to even try to fix things.

“You refuse to accept reality, Manny!” she yells, her voice just above a whisper but audible enough that I can see people staring from the corner of my eye.

“I know,” I say, defeated. Mon’s right. I hide away in Chicago because it’s easier than accepting the pain that’s attached to San Jose. In every street I’ve ever walked and never passed. In every tall building and street sign. This is my heartbreak town that I never wanted to come back to. “But please, not here.”

“Then where? I’m tired of trying to make you see sense. You running away every time it gets hard hurts everyone else. It’s not just about you, Manny. It’s never been about just you. It hurts everyone. You’re not special in your pain.”

And my composure breaks as a tear trails down my cheek. “Mon …”

Monique throws her hands in the air. “Now I’m the bad guy. You just don’t care.”

“I do,” I retort like a child as I wipe the moisture from my cheek.

Regret simmers in her light brown eyes. Monique’s the beautiful sister, modeling in LA since she was eighteen and able to provide for our family in ways that I can never—especially since my IIT tuition eats up a lot of her contribution. I’m able to run away because of her, and I know she hates me for that.

“You never visit him,” Monique says, sounding defeated.

Then I feel it. The hand on my shoulder, the stroke of his thumb. He feels like home … like before, and that feeling is one of the reasons I haven’t been home in a year. Because of him and what he represents.

“Monique,” Marco Mendoza announces with that smooth voice women love—my sister included. She’s always been vocal about how attractive and what a catch Marco is. “Alvin is looking for you.”

Alvin being Marco’s cousin and Monique’s ex-boyfriend. Alvin, who made the possibility of Marco and me nonexistent.

The fire and strength in Monique’s stance bellows in, and she glances over to where I last saw Alvin by the barbecue. Her arms fold over her chest. “Why?”

Marco drops his hand from my shoulder. “We both know you’re the love of his life. Come on, I’ll act as mediator.”

Monique rolls her eyes and then finally nods. “Fine. But if he makes a scene, I’m blaming you.”

Alvin make a scene? I almost laugh because it’s always Monique who does when their together.

“We have more to discuss, Manny, but you’re right. Not here. Marco’s abuela doesn’t deserve that.”

I nod, and for once, we agree on something. Monique walks past me, and I feel reprieve in my blood as I let out a freeing breath since Monique ambushed me. I should have told her I was coming home, but it felt easier to just arrive than announce. Somehow I had reasoned with myself that an announcement was just going to be another promise I break, and I’d had enough of that.

“Manny?”

I turn and face Marco for the first time in a year. I knew I would see him. I’d planned to see him, but looking into his hazel eyes, my heart breaks all over again.

I feel it all over again. The rain, the tears, the way he held me and made his own promises. And though I’ve dreamed of this moment, it ruins me because I know I’ve hurt him, too. I just want to scream that I’m sorry, that I am so incredibly sorry for leaving, but I don’t.

I’m the fool who only says, “Thank you,” and keeps her apology locked away.

Marco grins at me like I hadn’t whispered a drunken forever last time we saw each other. I give myself a moment to stare at him. To take in that scar on his right eyebrow that I love or that lopsided smile I spent summers memorizing. “You’re welcome. Head up to my room. I’ll handle Monique. Go catch your breath.”

I nod, and the speech I’d been practicing on the plane this morning evaporates as I make my way up the three concrete steps and into the Mendoza family home. I smell the familiar roses—his abuela’s favorite flower—and smile at the family portraits on the dark green walls. As I make it to the stairs, I hear the unbelievable call of my name.

“Manuela?” I spin around to find her walking out of the kitchen with a covered ceramic bowl. “You’re home.”

“Hello, Abuela.” I glance over at the opened front door, and I can just see Monique and Alvin talking. “I’m sorry to have made a scene with Monique. Thank you for inviting us to your summer party.”

Abuela sets the bowl on the hallway table and wipes her hands on the stained apron. She collects my hands once she reaches me and presses her lips in a sweet, relieved smile. “You are always a part of this family, Manuela. I’m happy you’re finally home. And has my grandson come to see you?”

“He told me to head up to his room for a bit. My sister and I—”

She squeezes my hands. “You don’t need to explain. Go. I’ll have Marco bring you up a plate of food.”

“Thank you, Abuela,” I say before I make my way up the stairs, make a right down the hall, and head to the farthest room on the right.

I reach Marco’s closed bedroom door, and try to understand why I spent so many years accepting that we were never going to be together. First, Monique and Alvin brutally ended before she left for LA. There were a lot of reasons I never told Marco how I felt. The main one being that I was scared to lose him. Our fathers are best friends, and I suppose I was scared of what it would mean. Though we went to different high schools, we had our summers together until I dated his best friend, Jake, who was easier to be with than accepting that I was madly in love with the boy who hated chili corn dogs when I loved them.

I could live in denial than accept Marco’s love. There was always a connection between us. The longing stares. The sweet, hopeful smiles. Each summer I wished he’d take that leap of faith, but he never did. Nor did I because it meant I would never lose him, but I did.

Last year, Marcella told me that she overheard his cousin say he was dating someone at San Jose State University, and I’d lost my chance and accepted that Marco was a good guy who just never wanted to hurt me. I’m the friend he protected when her world fell apart, and that’s the kind of guy Marco Mendoza was and always will be.

As I push the door open, I remember he’s not mine to have but to lose. I’m not here to ruin his life or relationship. I’m back to make amends and finally apologize. To say the words I never said to ease the year of longing and loss I’ve endured. It’s not fair, but Marcella tells me he’s happy at SJSU, and I don’t want to hold him to my drunken promise.

Walking over to his bed, I sit on the single he used to complain was far too small when we were kids. Yet somehow, it was big enough to build a fort on. I take in his bedroom, and nothing’s changed. It’s a time capsule of nostalgia with baseball and movie posters on the walls. My eyes land on his desk on the other side of the room, and a sparkle catches my eye. I stand from his bed and walk over to the glimmer that makes my heart race. Picking it up, I shake my head, enthralled that it is as shiny as the day I gave it to him—though still as poorly constructed as I remember.

It’s the only promise I had intended to keep.

Someday.

And as the paper ring settles in my grasp, I wonder why Marco kept it. Maybe that day holds power over his heart. It rules mine, and the flashbacks come in waves that pelt me and swells that drown and terrify me as I shove the paper ring in my jacket pocket and leave his bedroom.

I don’t catch my breath. In fact, I’m holding it as if I’m about to lose my courage. I pass Marcella and my mother who’ve just arrived, but I just shake my head, determined not to back down. Hopeful to finally live up to expectations as I grasp Marco’s hand to many shocked expressions.

He turns and I’m met with his own shock, his own question-filled stare. “Everything okay, Manny?”

I shake my head and accept that I can run as far as my feet can take me, but I’ll never be able to hide. Because Monique is right. I can’t pretend forever. “Can you drive me somewhere?”

His eyes soften with a nod as I release his wrist. “To see your dad?”

I feel my sisters and my mom’s eyes on me. “Yeah.”

Then Marco leads me away and he announces, “We have a stop to make first, okay?”

“Okay,” I reply, knowing I’m about to lose Marco Mendoza for the final time.

CHAPTER TWO

MANNY

IT’S crazy how a packet of gum can mean the entire world.

I’m presented with so many choices, but my eyes land on just one packet. Yellow and familiar. So yellow it screams memories and warm hugs. The convenient store we’re in is the same one we frequented as kids. We’d always race to buy one packet of gum with the ten-dollar bill burning a hole in my pocket. We would split the change and the first to the supermart would always pick the prize we would share. For Marco, it was always slurpees, the brighter the color, the better. And for me, it would be the chili corndog I would make Marco finish because I could never eat it all. Then we would eat a piece of gum before walking home. So many memories revolving around a supermarket and a packet of fruity bubblegum.

Marco reaches forward and takes the last packet of yellow fruity bubble gum and turns to face me. “A sign?”

I laugh and realize it’s the first one to pass my lips in a long time. “A sign.”

I can see the memories have taken him too as his smile dips slightly and his eyes glimmer as if he’s holding back tears. I’ve seen Marco cry only twice in his life, and both times broke my heart. I don’t wish for a third. I’m back in California to mend bridges so that the road can take him and our families forward.

Because one day, Monique and Alvin will get back together, and Marco and I will never be.

“Race you to the car after I pay for this?”

Another flawless, easy and carefree laugh is produced, and I can’t help but think being happy means letting him truly go, and I’m not ready for that, but I know I have to. “You’re on,” I say as I dig my hand in my jacket pocket and feel the delicate foil for strength.

If this is my last day with Marco, I can only hope it’s a good one.

I USED to believe summer rain was the most spectacular phenomenon the universe could bestow upon San Jose. My dad used to tell me it reminded him of the Philippines and his childhood. And in fact, that’s where we were similar. My summer rain was filled with heat, memories, and Marco.

Somewhere between our freshman year and senior year, it all changed. We drifted apart to come back together every summer and be reminded of our two hearts. Maybe I always longed for Marco in ways he would never long for me. We had an understanding the moment Monique and Alvin started dating. Family was first. I love my sister, and Alvin made her happy for the time they were together. I’d give up Marco for her. Again and again, I would. Though, Monique hates me for turning my back on California, I would do anything and everything to make her happy. Maybe I should have been more selfish, but I’m reminded that my selfishness cost me everything as I stand under a large tree, shaded from the bright, scorching sun.

“I’m sorry,” falls from me like a choked sob. “I know I’m late, and I’m sorry.”

I hear Marco shuffle his feet behind me, letting me have this awaited reunion with my father.

“And I know I haven’t made things easy for Mom, Marcella, and Monique. I didn’t mean … I couldn’t …” Another sob. “Why? Why did you have to go?”

My entire body buckles under the weight of my unanswered question as my knees hit the dry grass, my tight fists settling on my thighs. I stare at the limestone, knowing I’ll never get an answer.

I take in every single letter of his name because I refused to last time.

Manuel Ferdinand Alonzo

My namesake, my father, my entire world.

The very man who would sneak me a yellow fruity bubblegum like it was a secret. Who would tell me to outrun the boy behind me and win a corndog. The man who would dance in the summer rain and talk about how much his girls were his world. The man who loved bridges and skyscrapers so much that I went to IIT to become an architect.

The man who lost his battle with lung cancer while I was on a plane back home to him. I never made it in time. I never got to say goodbye the way I should have. The moment I landed, rain blanketed San Jose and told me the city lost my dad. The man responsible for so many homes and many memories lost his fight with everyone but his youngest daughter by his side.

I will never be able to forgive myself for not being there when my father died, and I know neither will Monique. My mom and Marcella understood, but Monique has constantly told me that my father would never find peace because I wasn’t there. I’m forever haunted by knowing this. My family kept his cancer from me until it got bad. I had to be in Chicago for my finals, and as each exam finished, he got worse and worse. I ran to the airport, took the first flight out, but I was still too late, and he died while I was crying in coach. When I walked out of that airport and into that rain, I saw Marco’s face. I knew at that moment that I hadn’t done enough. I should have just failed my finals. I’ll never have that time back, I’ll never get to have that goodbye. It’s a regret that tears me up with every waking moment of my life.

Taking out the folded letter from my jacket, I’m grateful that he gave me this. Though I couldn’t say goodbye, my father did. He wrote me a letter and I could see his fight and his struggle with every written word. As I unfold the paper, Marco sits with me. My hands shake as I press my lips together, my fingers pressing against the ink and over the stains my tears have left in the year I’ve spent reading his goodbye. I set the letter on the grass and take a deep breath. Maybe I’ll never get to say goodbye to my father, but the truth is I don’t ever want to. He might be gone, he might have been my entire world, but as I reach into my other pocket and pull out the paper ring, I know I’m not ready to really lose another.

So I glance over at Marco and his eyes are wide to find that I’ve taken the paper ring from his bedroom and am holding it up to him for the second time in our lives.

“You said yes,” I remind him.

Marco nods firmly. “I did,” he says without a wasted breath.

I lower the ring, not reaching for his hand as I set in on the grass and whisper, “I’m sorry. I broke my promise to you.”

“Manuela,” he breathes my name as he pulls me close and wraps his arms around me. In his arms, I break. Because for the first time in a year, I feel vulnerable enough to allow my true pain and grief explode from me. In his arms, I’m his. And maybe it’s not forever, and maybe it’s only until the wind goes cold and we have to return home.

Maybe his mine until my tears dry and I can give my father the goodbye I couldn’t a year ago.

A lot of maybes fill my head and my heart, but I’m hopeful that come what may, Marco Mendoza will always be my summer rain.

CHAPTER THREE

MARCO

One Year Ago

MANUEL ALONZO’S funeral was the most depressing experience of my life.

His funeral wasn’t my first. My first being my abuelos’ when I was eight. But unlike my sick grandfather, Manny’s father was a bright man. It’s the best way to describe him. Even sick, he filled the room. He was a warm man, honest and true, who my dad would always say he was honored to be best friends with. Manny Alonzo Snr loved his daughters, but his youngest was his miracle child. I’d heard the stories, Manny was an impossibility, born on a hot and rainy summer’s day. The oldest Alonzo sister, Marcella, was the caregiver to the family, Monique was stubbornly independent, while Manny catered to her family’s happiness and love. She would devote her entire self to her family’s happiness.

So when Monique started dating my cousin, Alvin, it was over for us. We never quite made it because I never wanted to make Manny unhappy, and us being together after her sister and my cousin’s horrendous breakup would have hurt her. It would have been a betrayal to Monique that Manny could never do. Though her sister spited her, Manny adored her. And that, in turn, meant I watched Manny date my best friend and watched her come home from Chicago the past two summers and talk about Eric, some med student, she was seeing. I kept my mouth shut, and my heart chained up.

I only ever wanted Manny to be happy.

So when I met her at the airport when she came back home for the summer, I ruined her entire world when I couldn’t tell her that her dad was waiting for her. I was the one to tell her that he had died while she was on the plane. I was the one who held her and felt everything within her shatter. I never saw that happy Manuela Alonzo ever again. She never spoke a word after I drove her to the hospital. She barely looked at me at the funeral or the reception after. Her grief consumed her, and I didn’t recognize her. Her mother told me to give her time, but I felt as if we were all losing her, too. Marcella and Monique were there when their father died, but Manny wasn’t, and I know it haunts her.

So when Manny knocked on my door three days later with that drunken gleam in her eyes, I knew I couldn’t leave her and drove her to the cemetery. Watched as she reads her father’s letter he wrote to her before he passed away.

She reads out some lines, silently cries at others.

I remain quiet to give her this moment of strength. She’d spent two years away in Chicago, and I knew how much it hurt her to be away. I wish her family would have told her about her father’s cancer sooner. They had wanted her to concentrate on school. Though her father wanted to protect her, I can see that it’s only devastated her. I watch as she removed a piece of foil-covered gum from the letter.

“Never take life too seriously, my Manuela. Continue to dance in the rain, love chili corndogs the way you do, and when you miss me, chew this one for me. And wherever your life takes you, here or there, know that I love you. That I am incredibly proud of you. I know someday the sun will reach the skyline you design,” she read with sadness heavy in her voice.

Her tears land on the letter as she unwraps the piece of gum. It’s her father’s favorite flavor because it was the one Manny could afford as a child. So like a creature of habit, Manny’s father continued to chew the same flavored gum for the rest of his life. Just like he only liked pineapple juice for breakfast because it was Monique’s favorite juice or that he liked his eggs scrambled the exact same way as Marcella—with a pinch of hot sauce and cheese.

Then Manny broke the long piece of gum and handed me a half. For the first time in days, she spoke to me. “He loved you.”

I pop the gum in my mouth and chew. The banana flavor was not my favorite, but it was Manny’s, and it always reminded me of the sweet summers we’d run to the supermart together. We felt like kings with that ten-dollar bill. But it was never about the slurpees or the corndogs, it was always seeing the smile on Manny’s face. Sure, I’ve always loved her, but being in love with her was the challenge of my life because I don’t ever want her to think she has to settle for me or that being with me would hurt her sister or family. I watched her date my high school best friend even though it tore me up inside. And when I heard she was dating a future doctor from her sister, Marcella, I acted as if I was happy, but her happiness tortured me, and I let it continue.

“I love your father, too,” I reply as she starts rolling the foil paper between her fingers, nodding her head.

“Monique won’t look at me.”

“It’s not your fault, you didn’t know how sick he was.”

Another nod and then an exasperated sigh before she shakes her head. “I should have though. I heard it in his voice. I took my stupid finals and he still died. She blames me, and honestly, I don’t blame her. I should have just been here. Been by his side. I’m a horrible daughter.”

It’s my turn to shake my head, hating the self-blame in her tight voice. “You’re not.”

“I am. I drank his entire bottle of gin and it was awful. I can’t even look my mom in the eye because I wasn’t there. I was the only one who wasn’t there. You were there.”

It was horrible to see the once strong home builder so frail, but if Manny couldn’t be there, I thought I should have for her. Now I see that was mistake. “I should have asked you if it was okay with you.”

“Of course it was okay with me. I’m angry with them, and I’m hoping I’m so drunk I don’t remember how I feel or what I say tomorrow because it’s all unjust. I’m angry they kept it from me for so long. I hate them for thinking school means more than being here. I hate how Monique blames me when I didn’t know. I hate that Marcella took care of him and took all of that on when I could have helped her. I hate Mom for looking at me like I’m a disappointment.” Her sobs break through my chest and cut open my heart. I haven’t felt this weak or helpless in my life. I feel useless to her pain and there’s nothing I can do to take it away. I can’t look away from her light brown eyes under the moonlight. Or the messy waves of her black hair. I can’t look away from her or her pain. And all I want to do is ease her of her guilt. Her self-blame. But I can’t. “I hate you for comforting my family better than I can.”

“Manuela,” I utter because I had no idea helping her the way I thought was actually hurting her. “You have every right to hate me.”

Her gaze drops to the rolled-up paper she holds. “I couldn’t even if I wanted.”

MANUELA FELL ASLEEP SHORTLY after I buckled her seat belt in place after she had struggled. The drive back to her family’s house is the longest ten-minutes with my thoughts. I know she said she didn’t hate me, but there’s some resentment in the way she looks at me. I was there when her father died, and she wasn’t. That’s not something I can fix and I can only help her with her grief, but I wish I could just take it all away. Usually, I’m Mr. Reliable, but not this time.

As I pull up on the driveway, I watch the front door open and Manny’s oldest sister running down the porch steps to open the passenger side door.

Marcella is beautiful, all the Alonzo sisters are. While Manuela has sharper features, Marcella inherited their father’s full cheeks and kind smile. And when she’s not working in Silicon Valley for an impressive IT firm, she spends a lot of her time taking care of her kids and family. “Thank you,” she whispers as she looks over to me. “I was worried.”

I unclick my belt and reach over, picking up Manny’s letter and folding it. I tuck it into the pocket of her blue bomber jacket, staring at the drunken girl I was sure I would love for the rest of my life. I was too late in high school, I’m probably too late now and the future doctor is going to ask her to marry him someday, but her happiness means everything to me.

“She just needed to see your dad.”

Marcella nods. “I’m glad you were there for her, Marco.”

I release Manny’s seat belt. “I’ll carry her in. Can you get the door?”

“Yeah,” Marcella says as she stands and walks back to the front door, pushing it wider.

Pulling the door handle, I get out of my car and close the door as gently as possible before I make it to the passenger side and pull the door open. I scoop her into my arms, careful not to wake her, before I carry her up the stairs and into the home, leaving my car unlocked. The house is eerily quiet, no familiar Tagalog songs playing from the living room speakers, as I journey farther down the hall and into Manny’s bedroom. The faint smell of lavender should remind me of her, but instead it’s a reminder that she’s here only temporarily. The scent will fade until she comes home again. Until she can sleep calmly without her pain, but I know that won’t be the case. Manuela doesn’t cry often. She’s one to reserve her pain and tears behind closed doors. Her father used to be the one to comfort her as a child, and I worry I’ll never recognize her again. I worry she’ll never let me back into her life and heart.

And as I lay her in her bed and pick up the pale pink throw at the bottom of her bed, I wonder what our lives would have been like had I just told her how I felt at her high school graduation. I’d rehearsed my lines. Promises I was willing to make were said in front of my bathroom mirror, but I lost my nerve as I watched her get her diploma and was reminded that Chicago was her dream, and I would only hold her back. I would never jeopardize her dreams, and telling her that I never stopped loving her would do just that. So I cover her with her childhood blanket my abuela knitted for her and make my way quietly to the bedroom door.

Before I can step into the hallway, I hear her stir and mumble, “Marco?”

I turn to find her on her side, staring up at me. The drunken glaze is a reminder of her pain, of this situation, that Manuela Alonzo is not mine. “Get some sleep.”

She shakes her head and sits up. “I have to know.”

“Okay,” I say because I don’t know how else to answer her as I return to her side and my knees hit the rug that covers the red stain of the pinoy spaghetti we ate for her eighth birthday. “What do you need to know?”

Manny takes a deep breath, her silence wrapping around me like a vise and I find it to be one of the hardest moments of my life. Then she releases that breath and asks, “Was I ever an option?”

Her question is alarming. It should be exhilarating, but somehow I’ve failed her. I’ve made her question her place in my heart and life. Manuela is everything to me. Her happiness is all I’ll ever protect, but I know I’ve let her down. And beyond the grief in her eyes, I see how right I am.

So I take her hand. “Manuela,” I say gently. I know she has to go back to school. I know I’ll lose her to two more years in Chicago and a man with a successful future, but I take this moment. I let myself be selfish because I lie to myself and believe it’s for the best. But I know the truth behind my actions. I know she’ll be too drunk to remember tomorrow. So this is, as cowardly as it is, my chance to tell her.

“You’re it.” I take her other hand in mine because time is against me. She’ll get on a plane and I won’t see her until she decides to come home again, and I don’t know if that’s a year away or in the fall. “You were always an option.”

She nods as if she understands. “But why didn’t we do anything about it?”

Her question hurts more than I had ever thought it would. My heart breaks at my missed opportunities. I thought I was making Manny happy, but it’s clear that I never truly did. “Do you remember when you went to Chicago as a kid for the first time?”

Another nod. “Yeah.”

Licking my lips, I drop her hands and sit on the bed next to her so I can set my hands on her cheeks. It’s as intimate as I’ve ever allowed between us, but I allow it. I’ve longed for her, and for a moment, I have everything, the only one I’ve wanted. “You came back, and you told me how beautiful the skyline and Lake Michigan was. You said you were inspired. You gave me a postcard, and it’s still stuck on my wall at home.”

“Why?”

“Reminders of you,” I reply as I brush her cheek. “It serves as a reminder of your dreams. I’ll always support you, Manny. There’s gonna be a skyline in a major city with your building starring in it. That’s why I never let us be an option. Because you are always the only option, but us … we could wait. I can wait. I know we used your sister and my cousin as an excuse, but it was never about them. I guess, in all honesty, I was scared to disappoint you and not give you your dreams.”

My confession is as honest as it is raw. I was scared to have Manny love me back. I was also scared of the possibility that she never did love me. I was selfish in protecting my heart and keeping her in my life—in any way and capacity she could let me. And for years, that was her childhood friend, and it’s where I remained in her memories.

Her eyes widened as she reaches up, grasps my wrists in her delicate hands, and pulls mine from her face. Her eyes stare into mine as if she’s searching for answers. I hope she sees me. That she’s always been my only option. Summers with Manny were where I belonged, but I have always wanted more.

We’re silent, and I wonder if this silence is writing our ending—our end or our future.

Then she takes my left hand and whispers, “Marry me.”

Two words I always thought I’d whisper to her when we were older, and she was established and comfortable. I realize at this moment, they were always meant to be said by her first. Because I was always waiting for Manuela Alonzo, and this was my moment.

So I tell her, “Yes,” and I see all of my heart smile at me.

Then she drops my hand and reaches into her pocket. I watch in utter fascination as she lifts my hand again and wrap the silver gum around my finger as if it’s always belonged there.

“Promise me something,” I say.

Manny presses her lips together. “Okay.”

“Come home because I’ll be waiting.”

She smooths her thumb over the makeshift ring and then drops my hand. I know it’s her way to keep me, to find roots back home again. I know that if she wakes up and remembers, that those roots run deep, strong and true. I’m Manny’s fiancé until she retracts her proposal. Until she tells me that her drunk words mean nothing.

Manny whispers her own, “Yes,” and I know my heart is ready to wait, to continue to call her name as I kiss my fiancée’s forehead before she snuggles back into bed and falls into a silent sleep.

I stayed a moment longer than I should before I snuck out of her bedroom to find her sister in the hallway. Marcella was always the kinder of Manny’s sisters. The eldest, hoping to keep her family together after her father’s cancer diagnosis. The sister who promised her father on his deathbed that she would ensure Manny finished school.

“Be patient with Manny,” she says as she taps her thumb on the ceramic mug she holds.

“Did you hear?”

She nods. “I did. You’ve always been the one she’s been waiting for. Didn’t matter who tried to love her or loved you, it was always you, Marco. And I want to say she’ll wake up, and it’ll finally be your chance, but I don’t see it.”

The clench in my chest is the truth. I might have been Manuela’s for a night, but for now, there’s no forever in her grief. The very grief I took advantage of when I said yes. “As hard as it is to say, you’re right, Marcella.”

“I don’t want to be, but I don’t know who she’ll be with her grief. I don’t know if she’ll come home at all. I don’t know if she’ll want to forget you because our dad loved you the most. You’re the one he loved for her. Not Jake, and not that guy in Illinois. It’s you. Just be patient with my sister. She never wanted to hurt Monique, but you and Manny were first. You were both just kids when you fell in love. And I think Monique wanted that. She was always jealous of Manny. Someday, she’ll realize that. So there’ll be a day for you, Marco. There’ll be a day for you and Manny. I just don’t know when.”

“Me either,” I agree. The day Alvin told me he was dating Monique was one of the worst days of my life. It signaled that I could never be with Manny without hurting the sister she wanted approval from the most. “Keep an eye on her tonight for me?”

Her sister nodded. “I will. Good night, Marco.”

“Night, Marcella,” I say as I make my way out of the Alonzo home and hope that Manny woke up wanting forever with me.

CHAPTER FOUR

MANNY

I REMEMBER that night I proposed.

The night I made a promise that I broke. I had intended to keep it. I was drunk enough to be vulnerable and mean it, but the next morning, I ran. I took the next flight out of California and returned to Chicago. I know I hurt him. I hurt my family, too, but I couldn’t stay. My grief wouldn’t let me. My grief plagued me with memories of my father. And every single person I loved was wrapped in memories of him. Warm memories I longed for and wished were present moments. So I ran, and ran, and broke promise after promise.

Marco grasps my shoulders and pulls me back, shaking his head. “You didn’t.”

“I did,” I say in a tight voice. He was the one I didn’t want to hurt. He didn’t deserve my silence or pain. Marco is a good man who deserved more than waiting. More than a shell of the girl who used to laugh like she ruled the world and the sky above her.

“Manuela,” he whispers as he wipes my tears away with his thumbs. His gentle touch reminds me of that night I proposed. The night that wrecks me in my sleep. That guilts me with every breathtaking smile he gives me. Technically, I have a fiancé I’ve been running from. And I’m scared the moment I stop, he’ll tell me we have to be realistic and accept that night meant nothing between us. That he was being as kind as he is being cruel.

“I promised I’d come home, and I didn’t.”

A small chuckle passes his lips. It’s sweet and filled with hope I try to keep alive. “I didn’t give you a deadline because grief doesn’t know time. You’re here with me. You never broke your promise. I said I would be waiting, and I still will be because I’ve always loved you.”

And there it is. The love we kept at an arm’s length because it was easier than being in love with all the distance between us. I finally have him and his love. I finally have what my young heart longed for every summer.

I have Marco Mendoza’s heart and love, and I want to keep him forever, and love him long past this summer, but my heart betrays me when I realize … I’m not ready. I’m not ready to love the one good man I’ve wanted, and it’s revealing as it is devasting, and I think he knows that with the tears that roll down my cheeks.

I have to let him go to grieve and heal.

“I love you, Marco,” I reveal in a cracked voice I hate. I wish there was joy. I dreamed that when I told him I loved him it would be warm and a memory filled with happiness I’d replay over and over again. But I don’t feel joy. I feel impending heartbreak. “But I don’t feel like I’m at a place to love you right. I ended it with Eric after I left San Jose, but that’s not why I’m not an option. I might have been drunk when I asked you to marry me, but we both know I meant it. Asking you to marry me meant I’d stay. I’d plan a wedding with you. I’d stay here and be loved by you, but I can’t love you right if I can’t forgive myself. Like I’ve exiled myself for not being here when I needed to be. One day, I will, but I just need Chicago for a while longer. I need sunshine touching my skylines like I promised to my dad.”

I don’t see anger etched in the features of his beautiful face. Instead, I see understanding, pride … I see love for me I was blind to. Love for me that I accept with a more open heart than a year ago. I’m not yet ready to love him entirely and truly, but I am prepared to fight for him and his love.

“Marco?”

“Yes.”

I rub my lips together because I know my confession might not be fair and also a year too late. “Marcella told me she overheard that you’re seeing someone at SJSU.”

Marco’s hands fall from my face as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the wrapper from the gum we had just split. He rolls it perfectly and then takes my left hand, wrapping it around my finger like it belongs there.

It’s my own paper ring.

It’s his paper ring on my finger.

It’s a promise of his own, and one that I make to myself.

I’m coming home to him … when I’m ready.

“I’m not. My family thought I was, but I was waiting for you. There’s no one else for me because I promised you someday, right?”

“Yes, someday,” I accept with a smile as true as the beat in my heart.

Then Marco embraces me, and I know that Chicago is just a city, but not my heart or where it will rest and be happy.

My heart is Marco, and my forever is the paper ring wrapped around my finger that is heavy with sweet childhood memories of him, of us, and of my father.

And to walk away from him until I finish college will be the hardest pain I’ll endure, but I know it’s for the best.

Because grief knows no time, and someday, we’ll truly find each other.

MARCO DROVE me home as I stared at the paper ring. The weight of expectation should scare me, but for the first time in a year, it doesn’t. Marco made me realize that I never broke my promise to him. That I didn’t disappoint him. I’d kept my word, and I’m thankful to him. We’re silent as he parks on my family’s drive just as the sun begins to set. I’m about to thank him when I look up to find Monique standing at the top of the steps with her arms crossed over her chest. She doesn’t appear to be as furious as she was at the party, but I know Monique can be resentful and hold grudges—after all, she still blames me after an entire year.

“God, she hates me,” I say with a sigh as I unclick my seat belt.

“She doesn’t,” Marco assures me as he pulls on the car door handle. “Come on, I’ll walk you to the door.”

“Thanks.”

Once we’re out of the car and Marco is by myself, his palm settles on the small of my back, ensuring that I know he has me. At the bottom of the steps, he steps in front of me as his lips press into a smile, and he bends down. Then he whispers, “I mean it,” by my ear before he kisses my cheek.

Before I can even utter a word, Marco utters, “I love you, Manuela,” and glances over at my sister, whose eyes are wide with shock. “Good night, Mon.”

He’d said it for my sister to hear, for her to know that she was a reason to us never living up to our romantic potential—but she wasn’t the only one. I made my mistakes. There’s no one real person to blame but myself. I’d used Monique as an excuse not to be hurt by Marco, and looking at her is proof of my own insecurity.

So I turn and climb the three steps to be met by my sister. And before I can let her talk me out of loving Marco or how it is a betrayal, I tell her, “I’m sorry, Monique.”

My sister flinches, her arms falling from her chest. “W-What?”

“I kept promising to come home, and I used every excuse possible not to. You were right. I was scared to face reality. Dad’s gone. I should have been there. And I will always live with that regret, but you have to stop punishing me for it. I tried. I tried so hard to give him what he wanted and to also be there. I was just too late. I couldn’t make the plane go fast enough or finish my exams quicker. And I’ll make it up to you somehow, but I have to forgive myself first. I promise you, Mom, and Marcella that I will try to do better. I’ll be home more. I’ll answer the phone more, too. I promise I’ll try. I promise I’ll share my grief with you.”

Monique blinks at me before she glances over at the driveway, but I don’t dare look. I need Marco to see that I’m facing my battles. That I’m trying to get home to him, too. I want him to see that there’s fight in me. That my dad would be proud of me because he wouldn’t want grief to rule the rest of my life. Because I know my dad. He’d tell me it was okay to cry but not to stop living and trying. So this is me doing that. Living for him and his memory and legacy. It just took me a long time to see that.

It took me coming home to face my reality without him and future for him.

From our previous fight, I expect Monique to either berate me or remain silent, but she does not. Instead, I watch tears roll down her cheeks as her teary gaze meets mine. “I’m sorry, too. I had no right to blame you for not being here. You have college. You did everything right, Manny, and I punished you for that. I think I was mad because I couldn’t run away, but you could. I blamed you when we kept his cancer from you.” She glances back over at the driveway for a moment. “And I shouldn’t be the reason you let Marco go. I was for a long time, but I was wrong to let you think you could never love him. I always wanted the way he looked at you, and I was jealous. So I kept you both apart by dating Alvin because you’re both so loyal to our families. I’m a horrible sister and not worth the love you give me. You deserve to give him your love and not me. I’ve never earned it, Manny, but I’ll try.”

It’s the first time in my life Monique has ever admitted she was jealous of me. There was never a time to be. Monique was prettier and more successful in the fashion industry. Monique was everything I wanted to be, but she wanted to be me. She wanted to be loved the way Marco loved me, and I understand where she’s coming from. For so long, I’d been her when it came to Marco’s love.

“Monique—”

“Go to him. You deserve to be with him. He loves you. It’s so clear to see and hear when he speaks of you when I see him or he speaks to Mom or Marcella. I shouldn’t continue to be the reason you two don’t try to be together.”

I step forward and hug my sister because I haven’t done so in over a year. I feel her crumble as if she’s been trying to hold herself up with the brittle stone foundation she’d laid. Monique mumbles her apology, and I shake my head and pull back. “You’re not, Monique,” I reason. “I need you to understand that, okay? I’m not letting Marco go. Now’s just not the right time.”

“But there is a time?” The hope in my sister’s voice has me laughing. “Why are you laughing at me?”

“I don’t know,” I lie, knowing that my laugh is relief. That for a moment, Monique doesn’t hate me and there’s a chance that we can be sisters again.

“But you love him, right? Because that’s the first time I’ve ever heard him say that. It’s always ‘Manny means everything to me,’ but not that ‘I love Manny.’”

I nod. “I’ve always loved him, and I do. I always will.”

Monique grins. “Good. And don’t worry, I have your back while you’re at IIT, you know? You don’t have to worry about the house or Mom and Marcella. And if I’m a bitch to you over the phone again, just tell me. Because I love you, Manny, and I don’t mean to hurt you. And I’m sorry that I have been hurting you for the past year.”

“I know, but I let you because I felt like I deserved it. But I don’t think Dad would like the way we are and have been. I’ll try to be a better sister,” I offer.

“Me, too,” Monique agrees as the front door opens next to us.

“Thank God,” Marcella says, joining us on the porch. “You’re both so exhausting. And I’m sorry, too.”

“You’re sorry?” I ask in disbelief. Marcella has kept the peace for the past year, and I know it’s affected her marriage. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about.”

Marcella walks toward us and throws her arms around us in an embrace. She doesn’t elaborate on her apology, but she cries. And then Monique cries, and my own tears join the affair.

Nothing else is said, but this feels like holy ground to start anew with my sisters. I don’t let this moment slip away as I hear the summer rain pour down. Those tears turn into laughter as we all come to the conclusion that it’s somehow a sign from our father that he approves of our impending peace without him.

That we intend to live a life of peace in the memory of him.

I’m certain that is what he wanted for us, and peace is as heavy as the love tied around my finger with a paper ring that I intend to keep for the rest of my life.

EPILOGUE

MARCO

THREE YEARS AGO, I’d made him a promise.

On his deathbed, I promised I’d look out for his youngest and assured him that I would never love anyone as fiercely and as truly as I loved his Manuela. He cried when he confessed that he was scared. He wasn’t in fear of death but what he would miss.

And I made him one more promise, and that was that I would love his daughter and take care of his family for him. So for three years, I have, and I will continue until my very last breath. It was a way I could honor a man as good as Manuel Alonzo. A man who loved his wife and his daughters. A man who was the heart of our community and whose legacy will continue long beyond myself.

I stare at the glimmer before me and smile at myself and at the limestone headstone in front of me. I visit him often. For Manuela and for myself. I knew a great man, but I lost him, too. He was another father to me. And he is a loss that I’ll never get over. He taught me a lot, and I know my dad misses him every single day, as do I. He’s in every family gathering and memories we share.

“All I can do is hope she’s up for a trade, Mr. Alonzo,” I say as I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. I pull it out to see a text notification on my screen, and the screen lock picture of us together, before I open her message.

MANUELA: Are you on your way to the airport? Monique and Mom said you’re not at the airport yet. Please don’t miss your flight! I can’t not have you at my graduation.

I laugh as I text back.

ME: I wouldn’t miss your graduation for the world. Just making a pit stop to see your dad and tell him that I’m proud of you.

MANUELA: Tell him I love him, but please don’t miss your flight.

ME: I won’t. I’m leaving now.

MANUELA: Thank you.

Seconds later, she sends another message.

MANUELA: And Marco, I love you even more for doing that. I love you so much.

ME: I love you, Manuela. I’ll see you in Chicago soon.

Then I tuck my phone back in the back pocket of my jeans and eye the diamond ring in my hand. The very ring her mom helped me pick out after I asked her family for their blessing. They all knew about the paper rings and the drunken proposal, but I wanted to give Manuela more. I was prepared to spend years waiting for her, but she came back to me in the fall, and we never looked back.

And after two years, I was ready to love her and marry her in Chicago after she graduates, and I finally move to Illinois to be with her.

It’s not California, but it’s home with her until the end of her internship. I wasn’t ready to spend another summer away missing her. So this time we’ll spend summer in Chicago and go to the supermart near our apartment whenever she missed chili corn dogs and I needed a Slurpee. Truthfully, our reason for the long walks to the supermart was to reminisce on our way to buy more yellow gum so I could propose to her again and again.

But now I’m ready to trade the paper rings for the diamond ring I intend to slip on Manuela’s finger after she graduates from IIT and watch as she works at her dream architecture firm in the West Loop with the hopes that one day she fulfills her promise to her father and sunlight touches her skyline.

And I’ll be by her side, buying the first postcard of her skyline to place next to the Chicago postcard she gave me when we were just kids and the paper rings we gave each other over two summers.

The End

Meet AJ and Evan in the Popsugar “must read” angsty series, and start where it all began in The Theory of Unrequited

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MY BEST FRIEND’S SQUIRREL

LILI VALENTE

PART ONE

From the texts of Gillian “Gilly” McGregor

and Flynn Donovan

Flynn: Looking ready to meet and mingle, Gilly. Digging the just-rolled-out-of-bed-before-being-attacked-by-wolves look.

Gilly: Shut it, Donovan. We were busy this morning. I had to run to the store so Liv wouldn’t be “the only girl at camp without her own personal bottle of glitter glue.” Besides, I doubt the squirrels are going to be offended by my slob vibes.

Flynn: Squirrels aren’t the only things out in the forest today, Sunshine, and you know it. If I didn’t know better, I would think you were trying to tank mission “Find Gilly a Great Guy” before it gets started.

Gilly: Of course not! I can’t think of a better way to spend the first day of my kid-free vacation than tromping around in the woods with a bunch of depressed single people, wading through poison ivy and making painfully awkward small talk. I’m giddy with anticipation.

Flynn: You don’t know that they’ll be depressed. They could be shiny, happy single people, the kind you’ll want to take home and check for ticks.

Gilly: Ew, ticks! I forgot about ticks! Did you know that Lyme disease can make you allergic to meat? And Liv and I basically survive on frozen Swedish meatballs during the school year. I should probably skip this hike, right? I mean, guys are great and all, but what would I do without meatballs?

Flynn: Coward.

Gilly: I’m not a coward! I’m a responsible parent who doesn’t want to catch Lyme disease…and who has a lot of violent television to catch up on before the Liv gets home in seven days.

Flynn: You know they have these things called doors now, right? Things you can close while you’re watching violent television, so your kid doesn’t crawl in bed with you in the middle of Game of Thrones?

Gilly: Hmm, doors. Yes, I’ve heard of them, but Liv has no respect for these minor obstacles to our constant togetherness. And I seriously doubt Maddie does, either. Or is that just a really cute, ten-year-old barnacle on your back over there, tough guy?

Flynn: Touché. Maddie says hi, by the way. And that it’s silly to text each other from opposite sides of the parking lot.

Gilly: That’s because Maddie doesn’t understand that I have to stay away from you so you can’t seriously talk me into trying to date again. A singles’ hike is one thing; letting some strange dude into my house to steal my meatballs is another. Hi, Maddie. Tell your dad to leave me alone. I’m perfectly happy with Liv and the feral raccoons who’ve taken over the garage and do not need a boyfriend.

Flynn: Maddie says you should quit being a chicken. And that you’re old, not dead.

Gilly: LOL. Thanks, Maddie. At least I’m not as old as your dad. At forty-two, he only has a few studly years left, girl. He’s the one you should be pushing to date.

Flynn: Oh, she is. She expects me to have a girlfriend by the time she gets back from camp.

Gilly: Seven days. That’s a tight timeline.

Flynn: Exactly. So, I can’t afford to head out into the dating wilderness without my Wing Woman. You said you’d have my back, Gilly, and you know I have yours.

Gilly: Ugh, I know. But honestly, I don’t think I remember how to flirt. And I’m fine with being alone. It’s not a big deal anymore. I’m used to it. Sure, there was a time when it was hard, but now I’m fine!

Flynn: Fine.

Gilly: Yes. Fine.

Flynn: Would you want Liv to be fine? To grow up and just be…fine?

Gilly: You fight dirty.

Flynn: Well, would you?

Gilly: Of course not. I want way more for her than fine, dammit. Okay! You win. I’ll try to hike the Lover’s Lane trail with a minimum of eye rolling and an open mind.

Flynn: And you’ll brush your hair first?

Gilly: And I’ll brush my hair first.

Flynn: Maddie suggests a high ponytail and that I offer my assistance if you are unable to achieve the proper placement. Though my offspring currently coifs her own locks, there was a time when I was on lone ponytail duty. I know my way around an elastic is what I’m saying.

Gilly: I know you do. But despite what the pair of you think, I AM capable of fixing my hair…when properly motivated. I could probably even be persuaded to run into The Sports Locker on the way to the trailhead and grab some cute shorts and a tank top to change into if someone made it worth my while. Say with sugar of some sort?

Flynn: I have a box of iced sugar cookies from Becky’s in a cooler in my passenger’s seat with your name on them.

Gilly: You’re a god among men. Meet you at your truck after the girls get on the bus?

Flynn: Not so fast, my friend. No cookies until after we have a successful flirting in the forest experience.

Gilly: You realize it’s evil to withhold sugar from a woman in need, right?

Flynn: I’m not withholding, I’m postponing.

Gilly: *growling emoji*

Flynn: Don’t go feral on me yet, Sugar Addict. You’ll get your cookies when I get my Wing Woman with a good attitude.

Gilly: *eye roll emoji* You wouldn’t think singles events were such fun if you were a woman. It’s a cesspool out there. A cesspool teeming with men with no jobs and secret mug shots and wives and girlfriends and sweaty palms and obnoxious opinions and zero conversation game and no taste in cupcakes or petit fours. All sugar is not created equal. Is it so wrong to want to hold out for a guy who realizes that? Who is also not married or addicted to drugs or in a weird cult? And don’t say I’ll never find him if I don’t look. I’m not going to stumble into a unicorn in the woods today, either, bucko. Some things can’t be found because they are IMAGINARY.

Flynn: They’re opening the doors to the bus.

Gilly: Yes, I see that. Hug your kid, I’ll hug mine, and let’s get the Grown-Up Fun Week action started. I’m ready to sweat in the woods with strangers!

Flynn: That’s the spirit.

Gilly: *middle finger emoji*

PART TWO

Flynn

ON THE OUTSIDE, I probably look fine. I showered this morning, put on my good hiking clothes—sweat-wicking gray shorts with the zip pockets and a plain black t-shirt—and I’ve always had a good game face. But on the inside, I’m churning as my stomach fills with acid and my palms begin to sweat.

Copiously.

I swipe my hands on my shorts and force a smile for the people breezing past me, chatting as they make their way by the ranger’s station to the trailhead on the other side of the parking lot.

But “fake it ‘til you make it” isn’t working today.

The roiling in my gut is only getting worse.

It’s confirmed. I’m one of them—one of the sweaty-palmed goons Gilly is dreading crossing paths with today. And no, I don’t have a secret girlfriend, or chew with my mouth full, or leave the toilet seat up, but I also haven’t been in a relationship in six years, not since my ex ran off the week before Maddie’s fourth birthday.

She just disappeared. Kristen was there one day, laughing over a bowl of shitty chili I’d burnt while I was helping Maddie with her bath, and then gone the next, leaving nothing to explain what went wrong except a note that read, “I love you both so much, but I can’t do this anymore. I’m so sorry. Love, K.”

She just…couldn’t.

Couldn’t love us. Couldn’t stay, couldn’t explain herself, couldn’t be there to hold Maddie when she cried in the night, asking when mommy was coming back.

And I couldn’t, either. I couldn’t imagine opening up myself, or my daughter, to that kind of heartbreak again.

Kristen and I weren’t a love match—we decided to give marriage a shot after she got pregnant with Maddie on our fifth date—but I thought things were okay. I’d thought we were happy enough, and on the road to figuring out how to have a better marriage. The thought of being blindsided like that again shut me down for a long time.

After the divorce was final, I didn’t date for over a year. And when I finally got on one of the single’s apps, I made it clear I wasn’t ready for anything serious, stating in my profile that I was only up for “friendship and grown-up fun.”

Yeah, I was totally looking to get laid. Not too hard to read between the lines there, and I didn’t have any trouble finding women to assist me in having as much “grown-up fun” as I wanted.

It was almost embarrassingly easy. Not because I’m such a catch, per se. I’m in good shape and not bad to look at if you don’t mind a chin scarred from too many dust-ups in rec league rugby, but I’m no movie star. I’m just a regular guy who believes in treating other people—male or female—with respect. Apparently, in these tech-warped modern times, that’s ground-breaking enough to assure me my pick of single women.

I hate that the majority of the male population are losers who have left the women around here with Post Traumatic Dating Disorder, but I enjoyed making a couple new kissing friends and was digging the casual single life.

I thought I had this single guy shit hacked.

But I don’t have anything hacked.

That became clear about ten months ago when I stopped waiting to call Gilly to say goodnight until I was home from my date. First, I called on my drive home, then on the walk out to my car, then I got caught texting her from the bathroom of my final grown-up fun buddy, and the depths of my denial became clear.

I may have been in bed with other people, but there was only one woman on my mind.

Or in my heart.

I’m in love with my best friend. Well, the woman who became my best friend after my former best friend (her husband) was taken from both of us way too soon.

I can’t believe it took me so long to realize the truth, but you know what they say—denial ain’t just a river in Egypt. And falling in love with the woman who was married to your dead best friend is fraught as hell.

What would Dan think? Would he hate me? Punch me? Haunt me from beyond the grave for daring to try to put the moves on his Gilly?

And what about the girls? They might be thrilled to see us dating—they’d be sisters if everything worked out—or they might be horrified. It might even ruin their friendship. Or it could ruin mine and Gilly’s if the girls decide to pull a reverse parent trap and do everything in their power to keep us apart.

Our girls are sweet kids, but they’re also very smart, very stubborn, and easily embarrassed by everything we do.

I can’t laugh at a movie without Maddie shooting me a sideways glare and warning me not to be “embarrassing,” and Liv looked like she was about to crawl in a hole the third time Gilly kissed her goodbye this morning. Having their parents dating might send them both into such a deep state of mortification that they would turn purple, burrow into a hole, and never be seen again.

Which is why I have to find Gilly a wonderful man, a truly fantastic dude who, sadly, won’t be me.

Yes, I want Gilly for myself. I want to put all my knowledge of what makes her tick to work, wooing her so completely, she’ll have no choice but to give me a chance at her heart. But that would be selfish. I can’t put our daughters’ happiness—or Gilly’s—at risk like that.

Because sure, I think I could convince her to give dating a try, but I could be wrong. And if I’m wrong, and she has to shut me down, our friendship would never be the same. She’d feel weird, and I’d feel weird, and eventually the weirdness would destroy the support system we both depend on to keep our girls safe and happy.

As two middle-school teachers—Art for Gilly and Biology for me—our schedules can get crazy. There are days when I have to coach lacrosse late and need someone to pick Maddie up from ballet and make sure she eats a healthy-ish dinner, and Gilly always steps up. And when Gilly has to run the student art show or chaperone the Sculpting Club’s field trip to the museum in Atlanta, I do the same for her. We share a bulk food store membership, every streaming service password, and occasionally a car when Gilly’s hippy van is in the shop.

A bad break-up or awkward “Um, no, I don’t want to date you. At all. Ever,” could jeopardize all of that and throw our already frenetic, single parent lives into complete chaos.

So, I’m going to stuff all the things I feel as I watch Gilly spill out of her hippy van in a pair of robin’s egg blue shorts the same color as her pretty eyes and a tank top that says, “Ask me about my pet octopus,” down deep and pretend I never realized that this funny, goofy, beautiful, talented, sweet, wounded woman was everything I’ve ever wanted in a partner.

Pretend her smile doesn’t make my heart ache in the best way.

Pretend that I don’t dream about running my fingers through those inky black curls and falling asleep with her head on my chest.

Pretend I don’t want my best friend’s girl to be mine…

PART THREE

GILLY

“YOU’RE WALKING WAY TOO FAST,” I inform Flynn once I finally catch up to him thirty minutes into the hike from hell. So far, it’s as bad as I imagined, and not even my secret stash of trail mix could break the ice with the two meatheads I’ve had the displeasure to chat with so far.

Any man worried about the calories in a single cashew isn’t my type. At all. I can only imagine the shame he’d heap on me for my sugar cookie addiction, and I’m not interested in shame with my sugar. Only coffee. Or, in the case of scones, a nice English Breakfast tea.

Flynn jumps in surprise, whipping his head over his shoulder to pin me with his soulful brown eyes. “Why are you here?”

I tap a finger to my chin. “Um, let’s see, because my best friend made me. What a dick, right? I should do something to him. Like put salt in his coffee the next time it’s my turn to get lattes before the girls’ soccer practice.”

His lips quirk. “You know what I meant. Why aren’t you chatting with one of the eligible bachelors back there? There are actually some good-looking men here, right? A few of them seem nice, too.”

“I know,” I agree, much to my chagrin. The meatheads, aside from their cashew issues, were very cute and seemed friendly. “But I realized something important while Jake the insurance claims adjustor and I were discussing all the great places to trail run around here.”

“What’s that?”

“False advertising.” I sigh and flop my already wobbly-feeling arms at my sides. “My very presence here is false advertising. I don’t hike or trail run. I don’t even walk long distances unless I absolutely have to. I’m not the sporty date they’re looking for.”

“You are, too. You ride bikes with Liv and do yoga all the time.”

“But not the sporty kind of yoga,” I counter, “the meditative, gentle kind. And when I ride bikes with Liv, we don’t get in a hurry. We cruise and stop for cupcakes and always take the flattest route home.” I wave a breezy hand over my shoulder. “Those men would be disillusioned by date two and resent me for wasting their time by date three.” I punch his shoulder. “Besides, I’d rather sweat with my bestie. You won’t be weirded out when I start to smell like corn chips because my sweat weirdly smells like Fritos.”

Flynn sighs, looking more upset by my little monologue than I expected him to be.

But maybe he’s worried about me cramping his style.

There are cute women here, too, and I know at least two of them are pushing hard to catch up with Flynn and the other fit dudes near the front of the pack.

“But I can go if you want,” I say, pointing to the shaded trail before us, where the path winds gently toward a bend in the river. “Looks like it’s downhill for a while. If you take it slow, I should be able to pull ahead. I don’t want Ms. Right to think you’re already taken.”

“No, stay.” He reaches out, putting a hand on my forearm that makes my skin hum, even when he pulls his fingers away.

I used to tease Flynn about his electric touch, but I don’t anymore. The past few months, jokes like that have started to feel…dangerous.

Jokes like that might clue him in to the fact that I have sexy dreams about him, and that would be bad. I can’t control what flits through my mind while I’m unconscious, but I can control my behavior while I’m awake, and I intend to keep my jokes innuendo-free from now on.

I can’t let Flynn know that the thought of him kissing me makes my soul light up with longing.

I can’t let him know that the reason I’d rather be home watching Game of Thrones is that if I can’t be with him, I don’t want to be with anyone at all.

He was Dan’s best friend. Flynn would never be okay with the two of us dating. He would consider it a betrayal, I know he would, and I’m certain the thought of the two of us being more than besties has never crossed his mind.

I’m also sure the fact that I had a dream where Dan came to me, hugged me tight, and told me he wants Flynn and I to love each other, wouldn’t hold water with him.

Flynn isn’t a woo-woo kind of guy. He routinely refuses my offers to give him a tarot reading or pop a few moon-charged crystals into his coach bag on game days, even though the one time I snuck them in there without his knowledge our team won by a landslide. Flynn believes in things he can see, and words spoken by flesh and blood people. As far as he’s concerned, neither of us will hear from Dan again and there’s no way for him to give us his stamp of approval.

But I talk to Dan all the time, and I know he wants me to find love again.

He knows that, in the words of the prescient Britney Spears, “my loneliness is killing me.”

Sure, I put on a brave face at work and with Liv, but I miss having a significant other. I miss laughing in the kitchen, lazy Sunday mornings in bed, and daydreaming for a shared future. I miss having someone to talk to when parenting gets hard, when I don’t know if I said the right thing or if Liv will be rehashing our fight over screen time with her therapist in ten years.

But most of all, I miss waking up with my favorite person beside me and knowing they’re just as excited to spend their day, and their life, with me.

I miss being someone’s favorite, the person who brings them joy and hope and the only one who can make them smile when life gets tough.

I suspect I am Flynn’s favorite, but not in that way.

We’re just buddies.

Buddies, buddies, just good buddies…

“What was that?” Flynn asks.

“What was what?” I ask, wiping sweat from the back of my neck. I should have taken his advice on the ponytail, even though Liv told me my hair looks way better down.

“You were muttering beneath your breath,” he says, making me bite my lip and curse my scattered brain.

“Sorry. I haven’t had enough coffee. Want to get iced lattes after this? If I have an iced latte to look forward to, I’m pretty sure I can get through the last few miles without whining, crying, or asking for a piggyback ride.”

Flynn smiles, his eyes creasing at the edges in that sexy way that drives me crazy. I want to kiss those smile lines and then draw him just like this—happy and relaxed on a perfect summer morning with the sun catching the golden highlights in his sandy brown hair. “Remember after the fireworks show two years ago? I thought the girls were going to break us both.”

“They were so tired, poor things,” I say, grinning before my lips turn down hard at the edges. “Now they’re almost too big for piggyback rides. I don’t know about you, but this whole childhood thing feels like it’s zooming by way too fast.”

He sighs. “We’re going to blink, and they’ll be dating, driving, and lying to us about how many of their friends are trying drugs.”

I give his arm a gentle slap. “Don’t say that. None of their friends will do drugs. They’re all going to be perfect little angels, and you’ll come over before Liv’s dates to scare the boys away with your surrogate dad death glare.”

His smile is sadder this time. “Any time.”

“Thanks,” I say, tilting my head to get a better look at his downturned expression. “What’s wrong? You seem off this morning. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were the one who had to be dragged here under protest.”

Flynn shakes his head. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“And I’m going to bike 5k after I’m done with this walk.”

“Really, I’m fine,” he says with a soft laugh and a shrug of his broad shoulders. “Just a little bummed that you didn’t meet someone. I was hoping this might be a turning point for you with the dating stuff.”

I bristle. “I don’t need your pity, Flynn. Seriously. If I want to date, I will.”

“I know you will.”

“Do you? Judging by your tone, you’d think I was the last wallflower left at the ball.”

He rolls his eyes. “Of course not.”

“Or the spinster sister you’re planning to send to live in the attic with the spiders if I don’t straighten up and find a husband.”

“You’ve been reading too much historical romance.”

“There’s no such thing as too much historical romance and you know it,” I counter, still irritated for some reason. “You’ve gobbled up every book I’ve loaned you and asked for more.”

He clears his throat uncomfortably. “Well, yeah, but I’m only reading them for the dirty parts. They have really good dirty parts.”

“I rest my case,” I say. “I’m not a sad little book nerd. I’m a sexually literate woman who refuses to settle for a man who doesn’t want to get caught in a compromising position with me in the garden and then pull my hair and make me his duchess all night long.”

He clears his throat again. “Can we change the subject?”

“Why?” I snort at the pink creeping up his neck. “Are you blushing?”

He echoes my snort. “Blushing. As if. You’re blushing.”

“No, that’s just my out of shape hiker’s glow.” My grin stretches wider as his flush continues to spread. “But you? You are blushing, my friend.” I giggle. “Was it the hair pulling part? Come on, you can’t tell me you don’t enjoy a little hair pulling now and then. You’ve got a ‘likes to pull hair’ vibe about you.”

Flynn exhales an irritated breath then abruptly turns and charges in the opposite direction.

I nearly trip over my feet as I stumble to a stop and spin to call, “Hey, where are you going?”

“Back to the truck,” he says, speeding his pace.

“You can’t be serious,” I say, starting after him at a walk that quickly becomes a jog. “Flynn, what on earth? You can’t seriously—” My words end in a startled squeal as the fattest gray squirrel I’ve ever seen suddenly dashes into the trail in front of me, rearing up on its hind legs to bark at me with an intensity that’s oddly…communicative.

If I didn’t know better, I’d think the animal was trying to tell me something.

But, of course, it isn’t. It’s just scary—and likely rabid—a fact it proves by charging toward me at full speed, squeaking and grunting like I stole its acorn stash and trashed its nest, and it intends to make me pay.

In blood.

PART FOUR

FLYNN

I HEAR Gilly scream and spin to find her already racing in the opposite direction, fleeing a very large, very pissed off…squirrel?

Is that—

Yeah, it’s definitely a squirrel, but a giant, unusually aggressive squirrel.

And is it?

Surely it can’t be—

“Is that squirrel wearing a vest?” I blurt out.

“I think so, but it’s trying to kill me, so I’m not concerned about its fashion choices, Flynn!” Gilly shouts, careening faster down the hill toward the bend in the river. “Help! Adrenaline burst fading… Not built to keep moving this fast for this long!”

“I’m coming,” I call back, cursing myself that she had to ask.

If I hadn’t been so thrown by that hair-pulling conversation, I would never have let this happen. I’ve been her spider remover for years. Four in the afternoon or three in the morning, the second her spider emoji and half a dozen exclamation points hit my cell, I throw on my shoes and head for the door.

It’s further proof that dating Gilly would be disastrous. I’m a loyal, attentive, dependable friend. As anything else, I’d drop the ball.

The thought pings something deep in my gut, something that calls “bullshit,” and insists I would never let Gilly down. No matter what we were to each other, I would be all in with her.

And if that’s the real reason I’ve been trying to fix her up with someone else—that baseless fear—then I need to pull my head out of my ass before it’s too late.

“Cut hard to the left and run back the way we came,” I shout as I close in on the galloping rodent, who shows no sign of tiring, despite his bulk. “I’ll jump in front of him, distract him, and shoo him into the woods with my foot.”

“But don’t hurt him,” Gilly puffs.

“I won’t.”

“And don’t get bitten,” she adds, casting a fearful glance over her shoulder at her pursuer. “He might have rabies.”

The squirrel barks—almost as if he understands her and finds the rabies accusation offensive—Gilly screams, and I wish I’d brought my backpack. I don’t bring gear on small hikes, but it would be nice to have something made of sturdy canvas to put between me and this feisty little furball.

A series of rabies shots isn’t on my list of Fun Things to do While Maddie’s at Camp, but for Gilly?

Well, I’d do anything for her.

“Now!” I shout.

Gilly cuts left, and I jump in front of her assailant, keeping one eye trained over my shoulder to make sure the bait and switch is working. But the squirrel has already skidded to a stop. He plops down on his ample backside with an outraged huff, glaring up at me like I insulted his vest and stole the matching hat.

I turn to face him, lifting my hands in the universal sign for “I mean you no harm, please don’t bite me.” “Hey there, buddy,” I whisper. “How’s it going?”

“Careful,” Gilly warns in a hushed pant. “Sometimes we have one last burst of activity left in us.”

“We who?” I ask, keeping my gaze on the squirrel.

“Pudgy runners.”

“You’re not pudgy, you’re perfect,” I say, still focused on the panting rodent.

“Are you talking to me or the squirrel?”

“Both,” I say, earning another glare from Vesty, whose steely gaze accuses me of being a patronizing asshole. “But mostly you, Gil. You’re the most beautiful person I know. Inside and out.”

Gilly makes a soft, wounded sound, but when I risk a glance her way, she’s smiling as her eyes begin to shine. “Really?”

“Really. And I don’t want you to date any of these hiking losers. I want you to date me.”

Her hand flies to hover in front of her mouth, but I think I see a smile growing behind her fingers. “I thought you’d never ask. I was going to ask you, but I was afraid you’d think it was wrong.” She sniffs as her hand drops back to her side. “But I know Dan would be so happy for us.”

“I think so, too,” I say, suddenly feeling it. My best friend would want his wife to be loved and treasured for the one-in-a-million woman she is.

And I can do that.

I know I can…if we make it out of here without being infected with squirrel rabies.

“And even if we get rabies, we can get medicine,” Gilly says.

I grin. “Did you just read my mind?”

“Maybe.” Her eyes burn into mine with an intensity that makes me positive we’re going to make it out of the woods, today and every day. “I was just thinking there’s not much that can stop us now. Not even this little guy.” She glances down at the still-panting squirrel. “We both need to add a little cardio to our workout routine, don’t we, Mr. Chasey?”

The squirrel exhales a shaky breath and adds a resigned grunt that makes both of us laugh.

“See there,” Gilly says, crouching down to the squirrel’s level. “You’re not so scary. And I’m betting you’re someone’s pet, aren’t you?”

“Kind of hard to put a vest on yourself,” I agree. “When you’re a squirrel.”

Gilly nods. “Yep, sure is, so maybe you’d like to come back to the car with us? We can take you to the ranger’s station, see if anyone in the area has reported a missing squirrel gentleman? What do you think about that?”

“Careful,” I warn as she extends her hand, palm up toward the animal.

“We’re okay now,” Gilly says, reaching into her shorts pocket with her free hand. “And we’re about to be even more okay. I have an open trail mix in my pocket, and I think…” Her eyes light up as she apparently finds what she’s looking for. “Yep! Still have a couple cashews left.” She draws the nut out and drops it into the palm of her other hand. “What do you think, buddy? You like cashews?”

Before the words have fully passed her lips, Vesty lunges forward, grabbing the cashew and falling upon it with wiggling whiskers.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Gilly says, laughing. “Clearly, you’re starved for snacks. I know the feeling.” She stands, another cashew in her fingers. “Stick with me, and we’ll get you fed and back to whoever made that snazzy little vest. Clearly, you’re very loved.” She glances up at me, a promise in her eyes. “And then we’ll continue this conversation.”

“Over lunch at Logan’s by the Lake,” I say. “My treat.”

“And then lattes to go with our sugar cookies, my treat.” She starts back toward the parking lot, taking a few steps before dropping the second cashew on the trail. Vesty bounces after her, his cantankerous side seemingly banished by trail mix. But then, if being a dad has taught me anything, it’s that we’re all better squirrels—and people—when we’re rested and well-fed.

Which makes me wonder…

“Should we plan on keeping this from the girls until they’ve recovered from camp sleep deprivation?” I ask.

Gilly nods hard enough to make her curls bob around her face. “Oh, yes. For sure. I think they’ll be happy for us and excited to spend even more time together, but they’re always cranky after camp. Better to wait a few days then take them out to a big breakfast and share just as they’re slipping into a hash brown and pancake carb coma.” She shrugs and tosses Vesty another nut. “I mean, that’s assuming there’s anything to tell.”

“What do you mean?” I move to walk beside her, no longer concerned about keeping the squirrel’s rear flank covered. He’s clearly not rabid or a danger to either of us, at least not so long as the cashews keep coming.

“I mean, we might not be compatible in that way,” she says, a playful note in her voice that proves she hasn’t forgotten how to flirt, after all. “What if you’re a terrible kisser or I make whale noises during sex?”

“Then I’ll learn to speak whale,” I say as I turn, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her against me, needing to shut this line of conversation down ASAP.

Her breath rushes out in a startled laugh that becomes a soft, sexy moan as I kiss her like I mean it. Because I do, and not just because her lips are the softest bow-shaped lips ever to grace a face or because she tastes like burnt sugar and springtime and all the hope that I’ve been holding at arm’s length for way too long.

It’s because she’s my best friend, and I can’t imagine anything better than getting to spend the rest of my life with this woman who makes me think and feel and dream in brighter colors than I knew existed before I fell under her spell.

“Wow,” she murmurs against my lips when we finally come up for air.

“My kissing skills pass muster?” I ask, my arm still locked around her waist. Now that I finally have every inch of her against every inch of me, I don’t want to let her go. She feels even better than I imagined she would, like we were custom made to fit just right.

“Your kissing skills are dynamite,” she says, a dreamy look in her eyes as she pulls back to meet my gaze. “Where did you learn to kiss like that?” She shakes her head and presses light fingers to my mouth. “No, on second thought, don’t tell me. I don’t want to think about all the other women you’ve kissed. I want to pretend I’m the only one.”

“You are the only one,” I say. “From now on.”

She grins and loops her arms more firmly around my neck. “Your complete lack of playing hard to get is very sexy.”

“I hate games. And lies. And pretending I’m anything but easy to get when it comes to you, would be a lie.”

“Glad to hear it,” she murmurs, her face drawing closer to mine.

A sharp chitter-bark draws our attention to the ground, where Vesty is watching us with a disgusted look on his tiny face.

Gilly laughs. “I don’t think he’s a fan of romance in the woods.”

The squirrel barks again, as if to confirm her suspicion, and we both laugh as we step apart.

“I don’t think he’s a fan of anything that gets between him and food,” I add as Gilly tosses what looks like a pumpkin seed on the ground and starts back down the trail.

“Hopefully the staff at the ranger’s station will have more treats,” she says, shooting a worried glance my way. “I’m down to my last few trail mix scraps. Do you think he’ll bolt once he realizes my pocket has run dry?”

“No, I think you’ve won his heart,” I say, words that prove to be prophetic as we begin to pass other hikers headed in the opposite direction. Everyone comments on our new squirrel friend and one woman tries to call Vesty over for a bite of her granola bar, but he only has eyes for Gilly.

Back at the parking lot, he tails her across the faded gray pavement to the ranger’s station, where he waits patiently for her to open the door and let him precede her inside. Once through the doors, he runs to a nature display on the right side of the room, climbing a miniature mountain made of red stones to settle onto the smooth place on top, picking through the remains of what looks like sunflower seed shells scattered there.

“He acts like he’s been here before,” I whisper to Gilly as I search the seemingly abandoned space for signs of life.

“He certainly knew where the food was pretty fast,” she agrees, glancing over our shoulder. “The office is open today, isn’t—”

“Dan!” a feminine voice with a pronounced southern twang calls out.

Gilly and I lock eyes, the recognition of what that name means to us thick in the air.

“Oh my God, there you are!” the voice continues. A beat later a tiny blond woman appears from a doorway on the left side of the room with a cup of coffee she sets down on the reception desk before dashing over to Vesty.

He reaches his tiny paws into the air and the woman scoops him up, cradling him like a chubby little baby as she coos, “We were so worried. Don’t ever run off like that again! You don’t know how to survive out there in the real world.”

“He did seem to be struggling. And hangry,” Gilly says.

The woman glances up, seeming to notice us for the first time. “I bet. He’s been missing for days, and he really doesn’t understand the whole foraging concept.” She smiles. “Thank you so much for bringing him home.”

“Of course,” Gilly says, turning toward the door only to pause a beat before she asks, “What did you say his name was, again?”

“Dan,” the woman says, sending a shiver down my spine. “Dan the Man after my old boss when I first started at the station. He liked vests, too.”

I glance Gilly’s way, but her polite smile as she thanks the woman and reaches for the door gives me no clue what she’s thinking.

Outside, I murmur as we cross the lot, “Dan’s a pretty common name.”

“For a squirrel?” she counters with an arch of her brow. “I don’t think so. I think this was a sign. Dan definitely wants us to be happy.”

“And to eat lots of cashews?” I ask with an arched brow of my own.

“Yes,” she says, grinning. “And wear more vests. I love a nice vest, don’t you? Especially in the fall.”

“You know I don’t believe in signs, but…” I reach for her hand, threading our fingers together, loving how right it feels. “I’d wear a vest with you any day.”

“Even matching vests?” she asks, that playful twinkle in her eyes again. “Even itchy wool ones made from my family’s tweed?”

“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “As long as I get to wear it to the wedding.”

She sobers, dropping my hand as she turns to me with wide eyes.

“Too fast?” I ask. “I was kidding. Mostly.”

“I know,” she says, still serious. “But Dan and I got married in the fall in Celtic dress. I think a tweed-free spring wedding would be nice this time around. And it would give the girls more time to get used to the idea before we start asking whether they want to be old flower girls or young bridesmaids.” She shrugs. “Unless you just want to elope right now and spring it on them as a done deal when they get back next week.”

My breath rushes out. “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

She grins. “Yes. About the eloping thing anyway. The spring wedding, though…” She leans into me, nudging my arm with her shoulder. “We’ll see. Play your cards right, buddy, and in a month or two that might not sound so crazy.”

IT DOESN’T TAKE a month or two.

That afternoon, as we come together in Gilly’s mudroom, because we can’t wait the two minutes it would take to get to her bedroom, I know a spring wedding is in our future. Gilly has been my favorite person for a long time. Realizing she’s also the most amazing thing to happen to my body in my entire life is the icing on the cake and more than seals the deal.

“Let’s do this all the time,” I say, groaning as she shifts position, leaning forward until her breasts are in easy kissing reach as she grinds on top of me.

“Every second of every day,” she says, her breath catching as I press a kiss to her tight, pink nipple. “Though maybe in the bed next time. We don’t want to break your back on the hard floor.”

“Break me.” I grip her gorgeous ass in my hands, pulling her even closer, until I’m buried in her sweetness and feeling no pain. “Please, break me. Anytime, anywhere, as long as it feels like this.”

“So good,” she agrees, moaning as I suck her nipple into my mouth. “So perfect. I love your mouth on me.”

“I love you,” I say, no longer afraid of going too fast. We’re clearly on the same page, a fact she proves as she whispers, “Love you, too. So, so much.”

Not long after our mutual confession, she comes with a sexy moan that sounds nothing like whale song, and I follow her into a kind of bliss I haven’t felt in way too long.

Or maybe…ever.

Because there’s no other woman like Gilly, no other love like this one, and no chance I’m letting another moment I could be spending with her slip through my fingers.

By the end of the month, Liv and Gilly have moved into our place and Maddie and Liv are busy redecorating their shared room. Two months later, we’ve rented Gilly’s place to a nice couple looking to relocate to a better school system, and by the end of month three, my ring is on her finger and we’re planning that spring wedding.

The girls help pick the venue and the dresses and the flowers and are even happier to be sisters for real than we thought they’d be.

In May, Gilly walks down the aisle, stopping only to give Dan the Man, our honorary guest, a few cashews as a thank you for playing matchmaker. Dan, who’s looking dapper in a tiny tuxedo vest, accepts the gift as his due and patiently endures pets from the girls after the ceremony is over, proving he really is a gentleman of the highest order.

We dance late into the night with our friends and family, but we postpone our honeymoon until June, when Liv and Maddie leave for camp.

This time, we say goodbye to our girls together before heading to the cottage on the lake that we rented for the week, where I intend to show my wife how grateful I am that she’s mine.

“Honeymooning with my hottie is way better than hiking with strangers,” she says, taking my hand as we pull out onto the highway headed south. “I’m assuming those are sugar cookies in that cooler?”

“And scones for tomorrow,” I confirm.

She sighs. “Could life get any better?”

“Every day,” I promise. “As long as you’re my girl.”

Gilly squeezes my fingers and whispers, “Sounds like a plan.”

“It’s a promise,” I say, and it is, one I keep for the rest of my very lucky life.

The End

About the Author

Author of over 50 novels, USA Today bestseller Lili Valente writes steamy small town and laugh-out-loud romantic comedies. She lives in Vermont with her two big-hearted boy children and a corgi named Pippa Jane. She also writes dark romance as Everly Stone and paranormal romance as Bella Jacobs.

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TO LOVE AND TO CHERISH

LINNEA MAY

CHAPTER ONE

ELLA

NOTHING FITS. Nothing looks good on me.

Nothing.

I let out an anguished groan as I slump down on the daybed in the middle of the room. Settling in a half-seated, half-lying position, I let my tired gaze trail across the room, taking in the mess of piled-up clothes I’ve created – most of them thrown on the floor in agitated frustration.

An entire room full of clothes with scandalously high price tags, luxury brands with silky fabrics, clever cuts and eye-catching details, meant to deflect from my imperfections. Yet, I can’t find anything that doesn’t make me feel like a giant, hideous and pale sea blob. There’s simply nothing in the world than can make me look good at eight months pregnant.

Eight or nine? I count on my fingers and realize that it’s actually nine months. Wow. We’re getting close.

How am I this far along already? No wonder I feel like a bloated walrus all the time. A heavy sigh leaves my lips when I straighten up, summoning all of my strength for such a mundane motion. I’m in my maternity underwear, black and silky and as pretty as it gets in this state — but no shape wear in the world can make me feel better, it seems.

I don’t want to complain. I have no right — especially not today. Not on our anniversary. Gabe and I have been married for exactly one year today, and we’re doing so well. More than well, actually. My foundation was a great success, and I couldn’t have done it without Gabe. He supported me with everything from the beginning, not just financially, but by utilizing his large network and advising me along the way.

And then he proposed, taking me by complete surprise during our opening gala. We got married shortly after, a small and intimate ceremony, just like we both wanted. And when I jokingly said we should try for a baby during our honeymoon, he wasn’t shocked or appalled as I expected. No, he was excited about the idea, and suddenly I was the one who had doubts. Those doubts still lingered when I found out that I was pregnant a just few weeks later, but Gabe’s excitement was so contagious that it didn’t take long for me to join in his delight.

Everything went so well, so smoothly. My constant worries were never validated. I’m healthy, our baby is healthy, our life is good.

So, why can’t I be happy today? My moods have been all over the place for the past few months, but they have become especially erratic lately, a constant roller coaster, changing from sheer delight to crippling anxiety and sadness within minutes. Some days are better than others, but today is not one of them. Today I simply feel like shit.

But I have to be ready in less than an hour. We have plans. Gabe made reservations at an upscale restaurant downtown, with a very special five-course-dinner menu that has been designed just for us. I’ve been looking forward to this for weeks and I’m sure it will be lovely — so I have to look lovely. I have to feel lovely. But I just don’t…

“What the…”

His exclamation rips me from my whiny musings. Gabe is standing in the door, looking immaculate as always in his custom-tailored suit, black with a fir-green tie, his favorite color. He says it’s the perfect complement to my fiery hair.

Ugh. Why does he have to be so wonderful? And why does he have to look so wonderfully handsome?

I jerk up in my seat and try to cover myself with a nearby dress that’s been thrown across the daybed next to me. It’s a silly move, I know, but I’m not thinking, just following my instincts.

“I’m sorry,” I blurt out. And despite myself, I start wailing. The tears can’t be stopped, no matter how hard I try. Sniveling, I hide my face before him. I’m pathetic. This is so embarrassing.

“Hey, hey.”

He sits down next to me and wraps his arms around me while I continue to wail uncontrollably. His warm embrace is soothing and devastating at the same time.

“I don’t want to disappoint you,” I mumble, careful not to press my face against the lavish fabric of his jacket. I don’t want to ruin his suit on top of ruining our anniversary.

“Disappoint me?” He asks. “Ella, what’s wrong? What are you talking about?”

He squeezes me in his embrace, before he places a finger beneath my chin and lifts my face to his. I fight him at first, but he won’t have any of it.

“Ella, please.”

There’s concern in his expression and so much love that it breaks me all over again.

“You deserve better, so much better. I’m so…” I utter under tears. “I-I can’t even…”

His chuckle cuts me off midsentence. He’s laughing at me? Now!?

I frown at him. “Why are you laughing at me.”

“Because you’re funny,” he says. “And I’m not laughing at you. I wouldn’t dare.”

He plants a kiss on my forehead and wipes away another tear as it pearls down my cheek. “We can cancel and just stay in, if you’re not feeling well?”

“No!” I protest, struggling against his hold — but he keeps me close.

“No! We’re not canceling,” I repeat. “You went through so much effort, and we’ve been looking forward to it, and it’s so expensive, and-”

“And none of that matters if you’re not feeling well, Ella,” he cuts me off. “Seriously, I’d rather have you happy and at home than miserable at that restaurant.”

“I’m not miserable, I’m just…”

Well, what am I? What is wrong with me?

“…ugly,” I finish my sentence. “I’m too ugly to-”

“What?” He exclaims, and now he loosens his embrace to look at me. “You better be careful, young lady. That’s my wife you’re talking about!”

He smirks at me, and I can’t help but chuckle at how ridiculous I’m being. This is not me. I’ve never been like this, this needy, and whiny and… boring. For weeks I’ve barely left the house now, because everything has become such a hassle. Every step I take, every little thing I do has become so exhausting that I resorted to doing almost nothing. I go on walks and I decorate our home, following my nesting instincts which had me throw all my energy into creating the perfect nursery.

But I haven’t done anything else. I’ve felt useless and lazy ever since I stopped working for the foundation — which I miss dearly — but I also didn’t have the energy to do anything.

“You must think I’m boring,” I say eventually. “Boring and weak.”

He huffs. “You’re my wife, and you’re carrying my child, Ella. I love you; I’ve never loved you more than I do right now.”

“But I’m hideous!” I argue. “And lazy, and boring, and I don’t-”

“You are literally creating a human being right now!” He interrupts me. “That’s bigger, more exciting and more marvelous than anything I’ve ever done or will ever do!”

Another tear rolls down my cheek when he places his lips on mine, pulling me in for a kiss, so soft yet so passionate and loving. A warm tickle spreads throughout my core, living down the disgust I felt for myself just moments ago and replacing it with ease — and a hint of yearning. For more. For him.

“We should cancel dinner,” he suggests, and when I’m about to protest he puts his finger on my lips.

“Don’t worry, we’ll still be celebrating,” he insists.

I raise an eyebrow at him. “But-”

“Come, I have something in mind.”

And before I can protest again, he scoops me up in his arms, entirely unfazed by my extra weight as he carries me out of the room.

CHAPTER TWO

GABE

SHE DOESN’T PUT up a fight when I carry her over to the master bedroom. Her arms are wrapped around my neck while she presses her face against my chest as if she was trying to hide.

I hate seeing her like this. All this self-hate, doubts and fear. It’s not like her. Not like my sassy, strong-willed Ella, the girl who challenged me like no other — and who continues to mesmerize me with her fiery energy. An energy that has been misguided a lot lately, attacking herself instead of the challenges the world throws at her. I’ve never seen her like this before.

She needs me, more than she ever did before, and I’m pretty sure that’s what’s gnawing at her so much. She’s always been strong and independent, perfectly capable of coming through by herself, and now she has to rely on someone else — me — for so many things. Of course, she’s struggling to accept that. I get that.

But I can’t let her go down that rabbit hole of self-loathing any longer. I hate seeing her like this, and I especially hate to see her cry. Unlike me, she no longer sees the strong, beautiful and dazzling woman I married — but I know there’s nothing I can say to convince her otherwise.

I’ll have to show her.

“What are you doing?”

She squirms in my arms when she realizes that I’m carrying her over to our bed. I tighten my grip around her and don’t hesitate for a second, before I lower her down onto the silken sheets. She sits on the edge of the bed and there’s a kiss of reluctance on her expression when she looks up at me.

“Don’t…”, she protests when she sees me loosening my tie. “We will be late-”

“We won’t,” I say. “Besides, I’m exactly where I want to be right now.”

Her eyes flicker with desire when I take off my suit jacket and begin unbuttoning my shirt.

“And I have you right where I want you,” I go on, adding a little wink to my words.

She blushes. After all this time together, she still blushes like a young virgin when passionate desire tickles her.

“Stay,” I warn her, when she makes a move to get up from the bed. “You stay exactly where you are and make yourself comfortable.”

“But I’m so fat and ug-”

“Ella!” I raise a playful eyebrow at her, and she bites her lower lip as she obliges with a coy smirk on her face. She gathers a few pillows that she’s been using to sleep at night and piles them up to support herself as she lies down on her right side, her eyes firmly fixated on me.

“And if you keep insulting my wife, there’s going to be hell to pay, you understand?” I add. “It’s been a while since you got a proper spanking, maybe we should start with that?”

She blushes even more, and a little giggle escapes her. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

Our eyes remain locked onto each other while I get rid of my shirt and move on to my belt. Her gaze flits down to my crotch for a split second when I open the buckle, before she looks back up at me. A smile is tugging at the corner of her mouth. She’s lolling on the bed, her belly propped up on a couple of pillows and another pillow supporting her back while her lascivious gaze rests on me.

The sight of her never fails to excite me. Her beauty transcends every little change that came with pregnancy, making her even more stunning in my eyes. Whatever she’s seeing in the mirror right now, whatever she’s hating about herself at this time, I simply can’t see it. All I see is that brazen red hair, those sparkling, deep green eyes that convey her unique sass and wit which I’ve always loved most about her. Her hair is even longer now, cascading down in luscious red waves that frame her pretty face. It seems she’s already finished her make-up for our night out, her lashes thickened with mascara and her lips painted in a fiery red that goes along so perfectly well with the color of her hair.

I notice the nervous tremble in her hands and the way she swallows dryly when I come closer.

“You’re…,”

She doesn’t finish her sentence, but her eyes tell me what she was going to say. I’m rock-hard, my thick length pointing her way like a divining rod as I climb on the bed and partially on top of her.

There’s disbelief when she rolls slightly to the side and looks up at me now, an unspoken question traveling across her face.

“I’m about to make love to my beautiful wife,” I whisper, before I plant a soft kiss on her cheek. “Of course, I’m excited.”

She chuckles and reaches up to me, holding my face between both her hands as she draws me in for a proper kiss. Our lips meet with a blend of well-experienced lovers and edgy buzz of newlyweds. I love that we still have that spark between us, that breeze of newness and curiosity that usually defines a relationship that’s still in the making.

Ella’s and my history is so long, so intertwined and filled with ups and downs, dramatic changes, loss and rekindling under difficult circumstances. We’ve been through so much together — and apart — and yet, this domestic peace we’re living now still feels like a dream to me.

I break our kiss and begin to move farther down, leaving a trail of kisses along her neck, her collarbone, her shoulder. She shivers when I hook a finger beneath the strap of her bra and pull it over her shoulder.

“Relax,” I breathe. “Let me enjoy my beautiful wife.”

I can sense the protest dancing on her lips, but she’s smart enough to keep her mouth shut this time. Instead, she closes her eyes and releases a sigh as she sinks into the soft sheets beneath us.

I continue my journey across her body, and she helps me by lifting herself up just enough to pull down the other bra strap, before I reach behind her back. She’s a good girl and arches her back, giving me more leeway to unhook the bra within seconds.

Her breasts are bigger than usual, and her nipples are hard when I pinch them between my fingers. She moans when I take them both between my index finger and my thumb and I start squeezing.

“Good girl,” I praise, when she begins to writhe beneath me, wiggling her hips and arching her back in despair. It’s like a switch has been turned inside of her, replacing all her worries and self-doubt with a yearning for my touch.

I smile at my success and I relish the little gasp of disappointment that escapes her when I let go of her sensitive buds. But I don’t leave her hanging for long and lean forward to wrap my lips around her left nipple. She groans with delight and puts her hand at the back of my head, urging me to go on ahead. My tongue twirls around her hardened nub, teasing her before I begin sucking, hard.

She moans and curves her back even more, welcoming my assault and the mix of pain and pleasure my touch sparks. I release her for a bit, before I close my mouth around her tortured bud once again and repeat my motions from before. Pinching, twirling, sucking.

Her body is moving beneath me, coiling with every little motion while I continue to drive her crazy.

Another sigh of anguish leaves her lips when I let go of her left side and move on to the right, doing the exact same thing there. Her nipple grows even harder against my tongue, disclosing the elation she’s reached already.

I cup her magnificent tits with both my hands and release her nub from my torment. Her fogged gaze meets mine and her chest is heaving under erratic breaths.

“More,” she begs, and a smile plays at the corner of her mouth. “Please.”

“Good girl.”

She sucks in a sharp breath of air when I move south, my hands trailing along the outline of her curves in appreciation while I plant a trail of kisses across her belly. I journey further, finally reaching the hem of her black panties. She helps me to pull them down by lifting her perky ass for a split second, so I can pull them down in one quick yank.

Now that she’s completely undressed and no longer distracted by my toying with her nipples, she becomes self-conscious again, it seems. A crease emerges between her brows, and her body stiffens when I look at her.

But I have an idea how to help with that.

“Close your eyes,” I command.

Instead of obeying, she opens them wider and stares at me with bewilderment.

“But-”

“Close your eyes, Ella,” I repeat. “You won’t regret it, I promise.”

I give her a kiss, just a quick peck on the cheek, before I get up from the bed. Her eyes are closed when I look at her again.

“Good girl.”

My good girl, indeed.

She deserves a reward.

CHAPTER THREE

ELLA

IT FEELS as if my heart is about to jump out of my chest. It’s beating so wildly, driven by excitement and curiosity simultaneously.

“What are you-”

“Hush,” I hear him respond from the other end of the room. From the sound of it, he’s standing in front of the dresser that’s standing against the wall opposite to our bed. I know what’s in those drawers, a lot of things that we wouldn’t want anybody else to see.

What is he going to pick today? What does he intend to do with me in my state? He wouldn’t…

My rambling thoughts are cut off when I hear his steps approaching. He’s walking slowly, and I know he’s only doing it to tease me. Gabe is always big on building anticipation, and I love that about him. I love so many things about him that it’s hard to believe how lucky I am.

My breath hikes when he climbs back on the bed, and I’m fighting to keep my eyes closed like he told me to. I bite my lip, stiff with tension when I feel him climb on top of me.

A moment later, I can feel his hand on my face, stroking along my left cheek, before he places something over my eyes. A blindfold mask. He secures the elastic band behind my head and makes sure that my eyes are properly shielded, before he appears to reach for something else. I hear him fidgeting with something but have no idea what it could be.

I can feel his hand on my right breast first, gently kneading it before he pinches my nipple, causing me to flinch. But the little flash of pain his fingers caused is nothing compared to what follows. A fiery ache cuts through my nipple like a lightning bolt as he fastens something around it. A clamp, I assume. He makes sure that it is sitting tight as I breathe heavily, trying to cope with the intense pain, shaking my entire body.

Then I can feel his hands on my left breast. Same procedure, but this time he kneads and pinches my flesh a little longer, before he clings the clamp on my sensitive nipple. I flinch and whine, gasping for air as my body copes with the burning sensation that cuts through my skin. The moment when it finally starts to change into a gentler yet still somewhat painful throbbing is a blessing. I live for moments like these. The clamps feel heavier than other ones we have used before. They slightly pull on my nipples, increasing the sensation.

I sigh with relish, tilting my head back as I enjoy the sensual throbbing on my hard nipples. His eyes are fixated on me, I don’t have to see him to know that.

He gives me a few moments to adjust to the sensation, most likely watching with hungry eyes as I writhe beneath him, spurred on by the sweet agony on my sensitive nubs.

I moan when I feel his hands on me again, gently cupping my breasts before he follows the outline of my bulging belly, lovingly drawing circles around my bellybutton and tickling me in the process. I can’t suppress a little giggle when he tickles my side, knowing full well how sensitive I am there.

I hear him chuckling, and the smile on my face widens.

“Fuck me,” I plead, despite myself. I hate to hear myself begging, but I know he loves it.

“Oh, I will,” he promises. “But not before I’ve had a little fun.”

I mewl in despair when his fingers move between my legs, tenderly parting them to fully expose myself before him. A tremor rattles through my entire body when he slides between my wet folds, caressing my swollen clit in the process.

I sigh with defeat when he retreats, and I can no longer feel the tips of his fingers toying with me.

But then the clamps on my nipples suddenly start to vibrate. I did not expect that to happen and jerk up in surprise, letting out a little shriek in pain. It hurts! The pain is almost as intense as it was when he first fastened the clamps around my nipples. Fuck, it aches. My body needs longer to adjust this time. I am gasping for air as I try to adjust to this new sensation. Little drops of sweat start running down my temples as the burning sensation finally starts to ease down.

Just as I manage to turn the throbbing pain into a sweet kiss of hot bliss, I’m shaken by another sensation between my legs, but it’s not his fingers this time. I can feel his lips on the inside of my thigh, planting little kisses on my sensitive flesh as he journeys upward and closer to my center while he lifts my leg. I’m shivering with anticipation, chuting deeper to welcome his touch and egg him on to come closer, faster.

An outcry of delight escapes my lips when he encircles my clit with his tongue, drawing closer and closer circles until he finally laps across my most sensitive spot.

“Oh, my…”

My voice dies off when does it again, drawing lines and circles around my sensitive core and sending sparks of pure elation through my entire middle. I’m so close to coming already, but I don’t want to come just yet. Not like this.

“I want to feel you,” I beg. “I want to feel you inside of me.”

He doesn’t stop what he’s doing, and I feel the heat of his breath when he huffs in response. His tongue parts my lips once again, evoking sparks of heaven as he brings me closer to my impending climax with every lick.

“Please,” I mewl, wiggling my hips. “Don’t… I don’t wanna come before-”

I sigh when he withdraws and I feel him reposition himself between my legs. I spread them farther apart, inviting him in while I place my right hand right beneath my belly. Lying on my back is a challenge at this stage, and I know I won’t be able to last long – not just because of that.

Another moan leaves my lips when I feel the tip of his cock at my entrance. He moves forward, parting my channel with his thick length inch by inch. He feels so big, filling me to the brim and stretching me in the most delicious way.

“More,” I plead, biting my lower lip.

I have adapted to the strong vibrations around my nipples, no longer conceiving them as painful but as pure ecstasy. They are driving me insane, just like he is. He’s moving slowly, teasing me while he pushes himself inside of me with such caution, as if it was our first time together. I feel so tight around him, too, my muscles clenching with need as they are challenged with his size.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says in a low, raspy voice.

I moan in response and reach up to remove the mask from my eyes.

“I want to see you,” I explain when he casts me a reprimanding smirk.

He’s holding my thighs as he drives into me, still slowly but with a steady pace now, jolting my entire body with his motions. But it’s not enough. I want more, faster.

His fingers are digging into my flesh when he increases the speed and intensity of his thrusts, and I move my hand farther down until I find the sweet spot right above my entrance. I massage my clit, adding surges of pleasure to his rhythmic shoves while he fills me with his considerable size. How did he do it? How did he manage to transport me from a place of utter despair to this heavenly sensation? How do I deserve this love? A love I was stupid enough to leave behind all those years ago. It was fate that brought us back together, it must have been.

I feel so blessed, so loved — and so close to coming that I can no longer hold back. Crests of pleasure wash over me, blurring my vision as I float through my peak. My climax feels different this time, deeper, somewhat calmer and even more fulfilling than usual. There’s a serene comfort, hugging me like a soothing embrace as if to assure me that everything will be okay. I will be okay; our baby will be okay — we will be okay.

Gabe slows down, watching me as I ride through the last waves of my orgasm, until he stops moving altogether. He pulls out of me and slowly lowers my leg before he leans forward for a kiss.

“Happy anniversary,” he breathes into my ear.

I roll around, following his movements as he lies down next to me — and that’s when I feel it for the first time.

“Uh, oh,” I exclaim, holding my belly with one hand while I try to push myself up into a seated position.

Gabe shoots up in an instant, placing one hand on my belly while he helps me to sit up with the other. “What’s wrong? Are you… did we, what’s-”

“I think I’m in labor,” I say in disbelief.

His face derails. “A-a-are you sure? It’s-”

“Early, yes,” I cut him off, grimacing.

My due date is still almost four weeks away, but apparently our little girl decided to show up early. Like, today.

“We have to go,” Gabe exclaims. “T-t-to the hospital.”

I can tell that he’s torn between wanting to jump off the bed and not wanting to leave my side, his eyes flitting back and forth between my belly and the room as if he was searching for something.

“Are you sure?” He asks again, looking at me with wide eyes. “Did we do something wrong? Do you think we hurt-”

“No,” I cut him off because he loses it completely. “We’re fine. She is fine. We’ll just have to-”

I’m interrupted by another sting at my lower belly. It’s not super painful yet, but the contortions on my face are enough to make Gabe jump up from the bed and fetch his clothes.

My heart leaps.

It’s go time.

CHAPTER FOUR

GABE

“I CAN’T STOP CRYING.”

She looks at me, her cheeks flushed, puffy eyes and ruffled red locks falling over her shoulder as she rocks our newborn daughter in her arms.

Our daughter.

I still can’t believe that the tiny, eight-pound wonder in her arms is my daughter. I have a daughter.

I’m a father.

There was a time in my life when that thought would have scared me to death. In fact, it was the worst I could possibly imagine happening to me. And I never thought that would change.

But it did. It changed the moment I realized how much I love Ella and that I cannot imagine a life without her at my side. She changed everything. She changed me. My love for her changed me. With her, parenthood not only seemed doable but desirable.

She was joking when she suggested we should try for a baby on our honeymoon. She was only trying to scare me, to tease me — I knew that. And I’ll never forget the look on her face when I agreed to it. That open display of shock and confusion on her beautiful features

“I feel like my face has been coated with a salty crust ever since we got here.”

“How poetic,” I remark, and she lets out a tired chuckle.

I’m standing next to the bed, and Ella keeps telling me to sit down on the chair next to her, but I can’t. I’m too restless, feeling like I should be doing a million things all at once. My phone has been flaring up with notifications and messages from people asking for a status update. I haven’t answered to any of them. My girl has only been in this world for a couple of hours, and no matter how restless I feel or how much the outside world is knocking for attention — for now all I really want to do is to stand here and marvel at the magic of what just happened.

“We still need to come up with a name for her,” Ella says in a whisper.

Just like me, she’s looking down at the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen, this crumpled, little baby who is sleeping in her mother’s arms.

“I want her to have everything she ever wants,” Ella says, carefully stroking along our baby’s cheek. “And to be everything she ever wants to be.”

I huff, amused. “Of course. She will have everything.”

Ella looks up at me, an eyebrow raised. “I don’t just mean the things money can buy. I don’t want to raise her to be a spoiled brat.”

I know where the line between her brows is coming from. Ella didn’t grow up like that. She fought her way to where she is now, and unlike me, she’s very familiar with a life in poverty — a life that she mastered like no other. We’ve talked about this a lot and both agree that we’ll raise our kids to be sensible with money, despite our wealth, and to be appreciative of their privilege.

To me, that doesn’t mean I can’t spoil my princess, too. Just a little.

“I want her to make her own choices,” Ella goes on. “I want her to be empathic, and hard-working, and free and strong in her convictions.”

I smile at her words. “And a little idealistic, hm?”

“We all have to be,” she says, joining my smile when she looks up. “She’s lucky, I know she is. But she will face so many obstacles and choices and…”

Her voice breaks and Ella chokes up, her hand flying up to her mouth as tears pearl in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, I-”

“Don’t.” I come closer, leaning over the bed as I wrap my arms around her, careful not to wake our precious baby in her arms. Ella is trembling in my embrace, shaken by sudden bursts of tears.

Sniveling, she eventually frees herself from my hug and wipes away her tears.

“Ugh, those damn hormones,” she laments.

She’s laughing when she looks up at me, and I smile back.

“It’s a lot,” I say. “Don’t worry. We can do this. She will have everything that she needs — and more. And we’ll make sure she-”

“Gets to be who she is,” Ella finishes my sentence. “That’s really all I want for her.”

I nod along as she speaks. “I know, so do I.”

Ella lowers her gaze, taking in the sight of our charming daughter while she lets out an appreciative sigh.

“Alyson,” she whispers. “It means noble, but I once read that it also means ‘seeking freedom’. I like the sound of that.”

She looks up at me, almost pleading, seemingly worried that I might put in my veto, like I did with many of her other suggestions before. She doesn’t seem to remember that I was the one who proposed that beautiful name in the first place.

“Alyson,” she whispers, still admiring our girl in her arms. “Yes, I think that’s her name.”

“I love it,” I say, placing a gentle kiss on Ella’s forehead, before I turn to my daughter.

“Welcome to the world, Alyson Boulder.”

I hope you enjoyed this extended epilogue for Gabe & Ella!

If you want to know more about these two and dive into their turbulent love story, just click here to get your copy of Billion Dollar Chance: A Second Chance Romance.

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GORGEOUS EVER AFTER

A GORGEOUS DUET BONUS SCENE

LISA SHELBY

HAVEN

HER CHESTNUT HAIR IS UP, exposing her exquisite neck, and her favorite pink Catalina Island flower sits perfectly behind her ear. And her smile … her smile is simply gorgeous. Life-altering. I knew my life would never be the same from the first night I met her. Still, I’m not sure I could have predicted the roller-coaster ride we would journey on together or that I would be standing here watching her from a distance once again.

As my wife.

My everything.

The night has been perfect although I’m still unsure how I got here. It must be dumb luck because I certainly don’t deserve her. Frankly, there isn’t any man worthy of her. Olivia is the best of us. She is strength personified, all the while delicate but not broken.

Never broken.

She’s dressed in white. Her strapless gown is simple yet elegant, with intricate lace clinging effortlessly to her body. Watching her tonight, I find myself just as captivated by her as the first time I saw her across that ballroom in Portland. It’s impossible not to be.

When she came into my life, it was like I had entered OZ, and colors I never knew existed blindsided me. The only way to describe my life before Oliva is cold and gray.

Then I shook her hand.

Things have never been the same.

I had the money and, unfortunately, the fame, but I had no idea what love was. I didn’t know how it felt to live every waking moment for another person. My life consisted of work and was void of color and life.

Until her.

When I told Olivia to plan the wedding of her dreams, I wasn’t all that surprised when she confessed marriage had never been a dream of hers. Instead, she had spent her life looking over her shoulder, trying to outrun her childhood and survive each day as best she could. She worked her way to where she is now. Even though I was her boss when things between us started, Olivia got where she is today because of her talent, professionalism, and determination. She may not have dreamed about her wedding day as a little girl, but still, l told her to plan whatever she wanted. No limits.

But as she has proven over and over, when it comes to Olivia, she is steadfast in her belief that less is always more, and today was no exception.

Our ceremony took place as the sun set over the Pacific in the gardens at my Catalina Island resort, Haven. The hotel I dreamed up and brought to life before I knew a woman like Olivia Adams existed. The place where it all began. The gardens she fell in love with at first sight. The island where my heart opened to another person for the first time. It only took a couple of days, and I was ruined for all other women.

Neither of us has family to speak of. Her parents are deceased, and my family is a story for another time. But with Olivia by my side, I have walked away from their toxicity without looking back. So with only a small group of those closest to us, our chosen family, in attendance, she’s decided to do things differently. Being an event planner, she knows how to plan a wedding. But since this is our dream night, she has gone against tradition, making this day exactly how we wanted it to be.

Purposely, she planned our vows for the end of the evening for two reasons … One, because she wanted the beautiful sunset to be a part of the ceremony, and two, we didn’t want to have to wait hours to get back to our suite to consummate our vows.

We had dinner first, and all thirteen of our guests took turns toasting us and our new beginning as husband and wife. Ava, Evelyn, and Baxter gave touching, heartfelt toasts. But leave it to Ben and Richie to provide the laughter with their version of stories from our early years. Then we ate cake and did all the traditional things before the late summer sun set behind the garden gazebo. It felt more like a fancy get-together with our friends, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.

The unorthodox schedule was worth it as we repeated our vows to love and cherish each other for the rest of our days as the sun went to sleep over the ocean behind us. The tide rolling in and out in the distance and the occasional cry from a seagull provided the gentle soundtrack that went with our words of devotion and commitment. The sky gifted us a kaleidoscope of orange over the dark blue waters as it changed from a pale tangerine to shades so deep the sky was nearly crimson.

We sealed our vows with a kiss in time to watch the sun’s reflection on the water grow smaller and eventually disappear. Leaving us in the bluish dark of night yet full of light and love.

Tonight was Olivia’s version of a dream wedding.

For me, she is the dream. The sweetest kind of dream. The kind you don’t want to wake up from.

“You’re watching her, wondering how you got so damn lucky,” Baxter, my head of security and closest friend, says, joining me as I wait for my bride. He knows me better than anyone, so it’s not a question. It’s a statement.

“Look at her. After everything she’s been through … she’s happy. Truly happy.”

“You gave that to her, Ronan. You know that, right?”

“That’s what she tells me, but I still find it hard to believe.”

“Well, believe it. The woman loves you for you, and it’s as simple as that. She doesn’t care what you have or what you can offer her. All she wants is you.”

I let his words sink in and come to a realization.

If love is all she wants from me, she will be the happiest woman alive because no matter what other excesses I may have, my love for this woman has no bounds.

When she notices Baxter by my side, she smiles at him and heads our way. As she approaches, I keep my eyes on her but speak to the man next to me.

“Baxter, I’m sorry for all the time you’ve missed with your family over the years. You’ve sacrificed much more than I ever knew to work for me. I understand now, more than ever, what you’ve given up, and I thank you. I’m not sure how, but I hope to make it up to you and your girls someday.”

My sincerity takes him by surprise, and he clears his throat to speak. “Nothing to make up for, Ronan, but thank you.”

She reaches us and casually addresses Baxter, “Is everything ready?”

“It is, Mrs. McKinley. Ready when you are,” he replies with his arm out to the side, indicating we should go in that direction.

Not following his lead, I stand firmly in place. “Excuse me, but what are the two of you up to?” I demand half-heartedly.

“Patience, Mr. McKinley. I have a gift for you, but we need to take a little trip to get to it.” Before I can continue to question her, she places her index finger over my lips. “Shh.”

Oh, she’s playing with fire, and the glimmer in her eyes says she knows it. I like to be in control, and she’s aware I have limited—okay, maybe zero—patience when I’m not.

“We’re almost ready, Baxter. I just need one more thing.”

Her fingers expertly undo my black tie while her eyes look deep into mine, never breaking the connection as I feel her pull it free from my neck. This is the sultry side of her she usually saves just for me, and I can’t help but wonder what sort of naughty surprise she has in store for me. When she hangs the tie around her neck, I can’t help but recall all the times she’s greeted me in nothing but my tie and her glasses.

All I want to do is ravage her with a kiss, carry her to our suite, and make love to her all night. But I resist. Olivia is in control right now, and whatever she wants, it’s hers.

“Okay, Baxter, we’re ready.”

“Right this way.”

She takes my hand in hers as we follow him toward the lawns on the other side of the resort. No words are spoken, but she does lift our hands to place a kiss on my knuckles.

Once we’ve rounded the corner of the building, a helicopter sitting in the middle of the green grass comes into view, and disappointment greets me. I can’t help but think I would rather be upstairs with my wife than take a scenic flight over the coastline. Don’t get me wrong, I like a helicopter ride as much as the next guy, but would I rather be worshiping my wife’s body, making her come in all the ways I’ve imagined throughout the night? Damn straight. But I’ll play along because if it makes her happy, then nothing else matters. Although I’m pretty sure my tongue could satisfy her a lot more than a helicopter ride.

“Looks like our taxi is here,” she purrs. Her teeth pull on her lower lip, and her lashes flirt with me, knowing all too well what seeing her bite her lip does to my libido.

“What happened to less being more?” I tease her.

“There is always an exception to every rule. You know that better than anyone.”

“I sure do, gorgeous.”

“C’mon. Your present is waiting for you.”

“And where exactly are we going?”

“I’ll never tell.”

She’s smiling. Extremely happy with herself.

The pilot jumped out upon our arrival and is now holding the chopper door open for us.

“Mr. and Mrs. McKinley.” He gives us a little nod. “Congratulations, my name is Marcus, and I’ll be your pilot tonight. Conditions are perfect. It should be a nice flight to—”

“Thank you, Marcus.” Olivia interrupts him before he gives away our destination. She gathers her dress in her hands to be sure she doesn’t step on it as she takes her seat inside, but not before mouthing to the pilot that our destination is a surprise.

Once we’re seated, Marcus hands us our headsets not only to protect our ears but also so we can talk to one another. Next, he shows us the button that will switch our communication to just Olivia and me and how we can also switch it to speak to him if needed. Finally, after he loads our luggage inside, he closes the door and takes his place up front.

Looks like we won’t be coming back to Haven after our ride. Interesting, since our flight to Bora Bora doesn’t leave until late tomorrow morning.

“Where in the world are you taking me, gorgeous?”

“You’ll find out soon enough. But first …”

She lifts the headset from my head, setting it in my lap before seductively pulling my tie from around her neck. A wicked smile plays on her lips.

“Olivia, what in the world is going on?”

“Look that way, please,” she shouts over the noise of the rotor blades that have started turning, directing me to look away from her.

Things go dark as the cool silk of my tie covers my eyes, and she gently yet securely ties it in the back. Once she’s happy with her work, she places my headset back over my ears, and I turn in her direction even though I can’t see her. There is a sliver of light at the bottom of my blindfold, but nothing she would consider cheating.

“Can you see?” Her voice comes through my headset like a beacon, while the feel of her fingers finding their place between mine electrifies me. My senses are overwhelmed without the ability to see her.

“Not at all,” I assure her. “But let me just say, this is not how I envisioned our first go-round with blindfold play, but whatever you want, baby.”

“You’re so bad.”

“You wouldn’t want me any other way.”

We fall silent for a few minutes as the pilot readies for takeoff, and we eventually leave the ground.

“Marcus? Can you hear me, Marcus?” she asks a few minutes later, testing the headsets to ensure he can’t hear us. Her body shifts, and I sense she’s turning to face me, still holding my hand.

“Ronan, I’m gonna talk for a second, and I just want you to listen. Can you do that for me?”

I nod my reply, following her instructions.

“When we first met, I never could have imagined a life or a love like ours. I don’t mean the luxuries that come with wealth. I’m talking about the luxury your love has brought to my life. I grew up in turmoil and woke up every morning mentally and emotionally preparing for whatever battle the day would bring. But after today, I know I get to wake up every morning wrapped in your luxurious arms with a sense of peace. To know I don’t have to walk this earth alone and have you by my side is the greatest gift I’ve been given. You believe in me, respect me, and cherish me. To be on the receiving end of your love is the greatest of luxuries.”

I am desperate to see her face as she shares her intimate feelings, but she stops me when I attempt to pull the tie down.

“No, Ronan, it’s my turn. You have declared your love beautifully over and over again. I need a chance without you one-upping me.”

I huff out a quiet laugh but stay silent and let her have her moment.

“I love you, Ronan. You are my best friend, my business partner, and my dream come true. Well, a dream I never dared to dream until you pushed your way into my life. You are my favorite person. You are my person. When I was tied up in that warehouse, it was your moon that illuminated the darkness and kept me fighting to find my way out.”

She feels me stiffen at the mention of her kidnapping and gives my hand a squeeze.

“The world is a better place with you in it, Ronan, and getting to navigate it with you is something I will never take for granted. I would follow you anywhere, not just because my heart belongs to you, but because wherever you are is home. You are my home.”

“Olivia …”

“Shh,” she says as her thumb wipes a tear from my cheek. I lift our hands that are still connected and kiss the back of hers.

“I love you,” I whisper like a prayer against her hand.

She doesn’t shush me. Instead, she puts a hand behind my head and gently pushes me toward her bringing her lips to mine. The kiss is gentle. Loving. Reverent. Pulling back, she rests her forehead against mine. Soon after, the atmosphere in the helicopter changes, and I can feel our descent beginning.

ECLIPSE

“THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING, SMITH,” Olivia says to the driver who picked us up wherever it is we’ve landed.

The drive to what I can only assume is our last stop was under ten minutes, yet I still have no clue where we are. When we arrived, they spoke outside the car for a few moments, and then I heard our luggage being taken out of the back of the SUV. At first, Smith left me standing with Olivia, I assume to drop off our bags. Then he returned and babysat while Olivia did something … somewhere.

I may have mentioned that I’m not the kind of man to give up control to just anyone. Even when my family thought I was one-hundred-percent dedicated to the family business and under their control, I was busy setting up separate companies, preparing for the future they never knew I wanted. She knows what it means for me to have made it this far without pulling the blindfold from my eyes, but I think the torture may end with the departure of our driver. At least I hope so.

“My pleasure, Mrs. McKinley. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No, we should be all set until our pickup for the airport tomorrow morning. Thanks again.”

A beat later, the door to the SUV closes, and I hear it drive away.

“Well, gorgeous, it sounds like it’s just the two of us.”

“Finally,” she says, sounding needy. “Here, take my hand and let me guide you. We’re going up some stairs.”

Stairs?!

“Olivia, can’t I just take the damn tie off?”

“Once you get to the top of the stairs, I’ll take a lot more than that tie off.”

“Say no more. Lead the way.”

Besides her death grip on my hand, she is a great guide, or it could be that the stairs feel familiar because I’m climbing them somewhat with ease. Before I have a chance to decide which it is, we’ve reached the top of the staircase.

Standing in front of me, she reaches behind my head to untie my makeshift blindfold. The faint scent of the flower behind her ear gets my attention just before a gentle kiss is whispered across my lips.

“Okay, handsome, we’re here,” she all but purrs, slipping the tie from my eyes.

The instant I take in where we are, I know marrying this woman is the best decision I’ve ever made.

“I love you so fucking much,” I profess, dumbfounded by her gesture.

She pulls on my hand, leading me through the door into my tiny one-bedroom apartment that sits above Eclipse, my small art gallery that almost nobody knows I own. She was the second person to know it existed and the first woman to cross the threshold. This space was my oasis. My escape.

Once Olivia entered the picture, it became our escape. The fact that she went to such an effort to get us here on our wedding night shows it means as much to her as it does to me.

“YOUR SECRET LAIR, SIR.” She extends her hand, a la Vanna White, to show me exactly what she’s done to my secret lair, as she likes to call it.

Faux candles line the floor from the entryway to the covered patio, leaving a pathway for us to walk through.

“Our secret lair,” I correct her, taking her hand in mine. “How did you do all this?”

“I have my ways.”

Yes, she most certainly does.

“You left our posh penthouse suite, rented a helicopter, and planned all of this to spend our wedding in a tiny apartment you’ve been to countless times?”

“Of course, I did.”

Watching her as she walks in front of me through the candles and out to the patio is a vision. The way her dress hugs her curves while the candlelight dances on her skin is breathtaking. But she sets me on fire when she looks over her shoulder with a seductive smile.

Of course, she chose to be here on our wedding night. There is nowhere the two of us are more content.

“Olivia, are you trying to seduce me? You do know I’m a married man?” I ask when I see the bed of blankets and pillows spread out in front of the lit outdoor fireplace.

“I wanted to make love to my husband under our moon, and this patio has the best view. And don’t forget, we made love for the first time in this apartment. So it only seemed fitting we come back to the scene of the crime.”

“I can’t think of a better place to spend our wedding night. Thank you, Olivia.”

I pull her into my arms, and we simply gaze into one another’s eyes swaying to music only we can hear.

As we sway, her hands slowly reach under my jacket and slide it off my shoulders until it falls down my arms and lands on the ground. Then without a word, she slowly unbuttons my shirt kissing the newly exposed skin of my chest just over my heart. Once finished with the buttons, she frees the shirt from my pants so she can glide her hands up my torso to my shoulders, guiding the next garment off my body to the building puddle of clothes at our feet.

“You looked very handsome today, but I prefer what’s underneath.” My belt snaps out of the last loop of my pants just as she finishes the sentence.

“Is that so?”

When she bites her bottom lip and then points at my shoes, I take that as a sign to mean she would like me to remove them so she can continue her seduction. After my shoes and socks are off, I waste no time removing my pants. I know she’s seducing me, but I have never wanted her more than I do right now, and as much as I don’t want the night to end, the wait is killing me.

She turns around, pointing at the back of her dress, and I start the arduous work of getting her out of her wedding gown. “If I forgot to tell you, you looked beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you like my dress.”

“I love it,” My fingers slip on the button I’m working on. “But I would give anything to rip it off your body right about now.”

“Just a couple more, and then there’s a hidden zipper. You can do it.”

Knowing I’m so close to having her naked induces a determined focus, and I finish the job in seconds flat, letting her dress fall to the ground. Underneath her lace dress is more of the decadent material. White lace panties and a matching strapless bustier. She is the picture of perfection, and I need to feel her skin on mine.

Need her to claim me as hers and no one else’s.

I kiss her shoulder, slip my last piece of clothing off, then bend down to my knees; my lips connect with the small of her back. My fingers reach for the lace on her hips and slowly slide it down her legs as I trail kisses down the back of one thigh. I can’t help but relish the gasp I earn as I kiss my way back up her other thigh, and my lips brush oh, so close to an area I know she would love me to taste.

“Lift your foot, gorgeous.” I tap one of her ankles and then the other, setting her lingerie aside with her wedding dress. “Turn around,” I say, my knees still pressed into the soft bed of blankets below us.

When she turns, I am face-to-face with the most vulnerable part of her body, and she shifts her stance leaving me room should I want to take it.

I kiss her lower abdomen and then look up to see her watching me. “Thank you for saying yes.” I kiss her everywhere but the one place she so desperately wants my mouth, taking my time now that she has relinquished some of her control. When I don’t give her what she wants, she presses her thighs together to try to ease the ache.

Taking her hand, I gently pull her down to meet me on her knees. “Although you look ravishing, I prefer you without this.” I pull on the cup of one side of her bustier, releasing her breast, then don’t hesitate to take it in my mouth.

A quiet moan escapes her as her fingers comb through my hair. She wants more. And I intend to give it to her.

That is, once she asks for it.

Pulling away and breaking our contact, she reaches back to unhook the rest of her lingerie and tosses it to the side.

“Ronan?”

“Yes, gorgeous?”

“Make love to me.”

“Out here with our moon watching?”

“Don’t make me ask again,” she orders, just like she did the first time we made love.

“God, I love your sass.”

She takes my face in her delicate hands. “And I love you.”

Her eyes darken, and those four simple words, spoken with such deep respect and admiration, change the moment from one of want to one of pure worship and devotion.

Without saying it back, I help her lie down on our cloud of blankets with the black starry sky and the moon above us. I plan on showing her just how much I love her.

Once I’m hovering above her, she brings her hand around my neck pulling me closer, kissing me like I’ve wanted to kiss her all night.

Claiming me.

Telling me there is no one else.

I am hers, and she is mine.

My hand travels over her breast and down her body until I reach her most sensitive spot with my thumb. When one of my fingers enters her, she releases our kiss with a gasp, her head tilting back and her back arching, bringing her gorgeous breasts to my attention. I gently bite her nipple and then lick the sting away while adding another finger. She rides my hand, but when I feel her body tense with the beginning of her climax, her eyes open wide, and she shakes her head ever so slightly.

“Ronan,” she begs. “Not yet.”

“Gorgeous, we’re just getting started.”

“Please, I want you inside me. I want you to feel what you do to me.”

Her body begins to pulse around my fingers, and I know exactly what I do to her. But who am I to deny my wife what she wants on her wedding night?

Slowly stopping the rhythm of my fingers, I bring myself down on my forearms. Our eyes connect, and I know what she’s asking for with just one look.

She wants to feel our connection. She doesn’t want a screaming orgasm; although I plan on giving her many tonight, she wants slow and sensual. Leaving her sass behind and my control with it.

Never taking my eyes off hers, I lift myself just enough to slide inside, connecting us body and soul.

The outside world fades away, and the two of us are all that matters.

IF YOU HAVEN’T READ The Gorgeous Duet and want to read all about Ronan and Olivia’s moon and see just how much they went through to get to their wedding day,

About the Author

Lisa Shelby is an international bestselling contemporary romance author. She’s also a self-proclaimed love geek and cake-pop addict. Born and raised in the Pacific Northwest, this is still where Lisa calls home with her husband and their dogs. When she isn’t writing her next happily ever after, you can find Lisa with her husband traveling, listening to live music, and impatiently waiting for her next FaceTime call with her son, who is currently deployed with the United States Marine Corps.

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FOREVER HOME

LISSANNE JONES

LUKE WHITTAKER SMILED as he crouched down, his arms open wide. His three-year-old niece came running into them, and he scooped her up with kisses.

“Hi, Uncle Luke.”

“Hi, my favorite Aurora.”

The giggle she let out made his heart melt. “Did you see me walking down the aisle in front of Grandma?”

“I sure did! You’re the most beautiful flower girl I’ve ever seen.” Pressing another kiss to her cheek, he held her tightly as she wrapped her arms and legs around him.

It had been a big day for all the Whittaker children. The entire town of Aurora Springs, nestled in the mountains of Colorado, had come together to celebrate the wedding of Ruth Grant and Gus Collins.

Ruth’s daughter, Autumn, was married to Luke’s twin brother, Cody, the town’s deputy sheriff. Gus was the sheriff and Cody’s boss. They’d been dating for several years and had decided to make it legal. Both in their fifties, their joy at finally becoming husband and wife was plain to see.

The reception was in full swing on Luco Ranch, which the elder Whittakers, Diana and Bill, had named after their sons. They’d razed the original barn and rebuilt a much larger structure, suitable for holding several hundred people.

The large barn had been appropriately decorated for such a joyous occasion. Dozens of fairy lights were strung from the rafters up high. Fresh wildflowers, such as Indian paintbrushes, pink mountain heather, blue columbines, and blanketflowers had been woven through the large, white arch under which vows had been exchanged.

Each round table, able to seat eight, held a large glass jar filled with more flowers in the middle, and the finest crockery and glassware the Whittakers owned had been arranged carefully at every place.

Ruth and Autumn had baked their hearts out in the days before, making individual sized cakes for each guest as a thank you for helping Gus and Ruth celebrate their special day.

After Luke’s wife, Evie, had redone Luco Ranch’s website and managed to get the business advertised in several wedding magazines, it had taken off in a very big way.

It turned out brides and grooms all over the country loved the idea of holding their wedding in the crisp, clean mountain air, even in the winter when the temperature dropped to freezing.

To cater for their guests, the Whittaker men and their ranch hands had spent countless hours constructing new cabins on the vast family land, which had paid off in spades between wedding parties and guests, and the rental business they also ran for families and couples looking for a romantic getaway.

“Would you like to dance?”

The beautiful brunette in his arms grinned and nodded, her brown eyes wide. He wandered over to the dance floor and twirled Aurora around, the sound of her laughter making everyone around them smile.

The bride and groom were seated with Luke’s parents, enjoying their lunch. A smorgasbord of food had been cooked between the entire town, and everyone had brought a delicious dish or two for everyone to share.

His sister-in-law, Autumn, was seated next to Evie, Cody hovering over her protectively. He understood why. Everyone did.

When Aurora had been a year old, Autumn had gotten pregnant again. Sadly, she’d miscarried the baby at ten weeks.

Both Cody and Autumn had been devastated at losing their child, and all the denizens of Aurora Springs had rallied around them.

Some of the ladies had taken over the bakery Autumn and Ruth owned on the town’s main street, allowing it to stay open while Autumn recovered, her mother by her side. Others had made meals and treats. Diana and Bill had ensured their cabin remained clean and tidy.

Luke and Evie had taken Aurora home with them; no trouble since they all lived on the Whittaker ranch, albeit in separate cabins. It had given Cody and Autumn a chance to rest and grieve in private.

Cody had been strong for his wife and daughter but had not been afraid to turn to his twin for support and comfort, which Luke had willingly given. It had broken his heart to see his brother so upset, and he hated that he couldn’t do a fucking thing about it.

It had taken them a year, but Cody and Autumn had decided to try again and she’d gotten pregnant almost straight away. The first three months had been nerve wracking, but the pregnancy had progressed normally and she was now about two months away from giving birth to their second daughter.

Luke couldn’t wait to meet his new niece, but for now, he concentrated on the one in his arms.

He kissed her face as they danced, spinning her around in time to the music. Once they’d whirled through a couple of songs, they were both hungry.

He placed Aurora on a seat near her mother, gave his wife a kiss, and headed for the buffet. After making a plate for both himself and his niece, he went back to the table and sat with the Whittaker women, placing the smaller of the two plates in front of the little girl by his side.

“Do you want a drink, sweetie?” This came from Evie, who was already rising.

Aurora nodded. “Yes, please.”

She disappeared, only to return a minute later with a drink in each hand. She placed one in front of her niece and one in front of her pregnant best friend, then went back and got two more.

“Thanks, darlin’.” Luke accepted the glass his wife handed to him and brushed a kiss against the back of her hand.

They talked while they ate, Luke helping Aurora with her meal. He was halfway through his own when he felt a little hand tugging on his pants. “Daddy.”

Standing next to him was the youngest of his three sons, Charlie. Unlike his four-year-old twin brothers, two-year-old Charlie had taken after Evie in coloring. He shared her blonde hair and pale blue eyes, whereas Colton and Travis had his dark hair and brown eyes, several shades darker than his hazel ones.

“Hey, buddy.” Luke lifted his son up and sat him on his lap, pressing a kiss against his head. “Have you been having fun?”

There were easily a dozen kids running around the barn, laughing noisily as they played games such as tag and hide-and-seek. He spotted his twins zooming here and there, and after making sure they were okay turned his attention back to the son in his arms.

Charlie was a sweet, shy little boy who idolized his older brothers, who in turn adored him. Travis, the mischief maker, was the one often leading the other two into trouble, but all three boys brought love like he’d never known it into Luke’s life.

As had the woman sitting opposite him, chatting with Autumn. Evelyn Young had been his high school sweetheart, but all their plans to marry and raise a family had turned to dust the night her parents had been killed in a car accident.

Evie had fled Aurora Springs, unable to cope with her grief. They’d tried to keep their relationship alive, but the distance between them had been insurmountable.

Luke had believed any chance he’d had of finding happiness had left with Evie. When they’d reconnected upon her return to Aurora Springs five years previously, he’d known the moment he’d seen her again he wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.

He’d have followed her to the ends of the earth. Luckily for him, Evie had been happy to relocate back to Colorado and build the life with him they’d dreamed about when they were younger.

Their marriage was as strong as ever and they had three wonderful sons who were the lights of their lives.

The love of his went over to the buffet and returned with a small plate of finger food and a drink, which she placed on the table next to Luke’s.

Evie crouched down and stroked Charlie’s cheek. “Have something to eat and drink, sweetie. You’ve been running around for hours.”

“Okay, Mama.”

She gave him a kiss before rising up, then leaned over Luke to kiss him too. Her lips lingered on his, and he suddenly wished they weren’t surrounded by the entire town.

He gave her ass a pat as she sashayed back to her seat at the other side of the table, and he didn’t miss the way the corners of Autumn’s mouth were upturned.

He looked forward to kissing his wife’s curves later that night, once the boys were all tucked in bed and fast asleep.

Luckily for their parents, the Whittaker boys were all deep sleepers who rarely woke during the night, even when things got a little noisy in their parents’ bedroom.

After all the guests had feasted, the groom stood up and gave a short but heartfelt speech, which had all the ladies tearing up. Sheriff Collins was clearly in love with his new bride, and the way Ruth’s eyes shined at her new husband made it obvious she felt the same.

Diana Whittaker sent her pregnant daughter-in-law home once the festivities had ended, refusing to allow Autumn to help with the clean-up. Cody hadn’t objected, wanting his wife to get some rest. After kissing everyone goodbye and allowing Aurora to bestow hugs on all her relatives, the young family departed for their cabin nearby.

Luke and Evie helped for a little while, but when it became clear their sons were exhausted, they also departed, laden with containers full of leftovers, which meant they wouldn’t have to cook for several days.

They decided to skip bath time, given it was late and the boys were practically falling asleep on their feet. Not one of them put up any objection to changing into their pajamas and settled into bed with a minimum of fuss.

Charlie conked out the moment his little head hit the pillow, Colton right behind him. Travis fought it for a couple of minutes, but soon followed his brothers into slumber.

Once both parents had kissed three small heads and expressed declarations of love, the door to the bedroom all three brothers shared at their insistence was closed, a nightlight providing the only source of illumination.

Luke and Evie shared a glass of wine in the kitchen as they talked about the wedding and how lovely a day it had been. He relished days like this one, when everyone in the town gathered together for a joyous occasion. It gave him a sense of family no big city ever could.

He loved living in a small town, where everybody knew everybody else and nobody locked their doors. Neighbors could be relied upon for anything, and if someone was in trouble, the entire town rallied around them.

They wandered into their bedroom, the centerpiece of which was the large, king-size bed in the middle. Luke had originally bought a queen when he built the cabin, but the arrival of children and their tendency to crawl into bed with their parents at the crack of dawn had necessitated something larger.

Once they’d finished up in the en suite and changed into their nightclothes, Luke crawled onto the bed. It’d been a long day, getting up before dawn to feed the animals and tend to ranch duties before helping his family set up for the wedding. He was more than ready for some rest.

Luke noticed his wife was unusually quiet. Before bed was really the only time they got to talk privately, and she chatted away happily most nights.

But not this one.

“Everything okay, darlin’?”

She was sitting on the edge of the bed with her back to him, so he placed a hand on the small of it and rubbed it gently.

Evie sighed. “I’ve been thinking.”

The corners of his mouth curled up. “About what in particular?”

She got onto the bed and sat cross-legged next to him. “I…” Her voice trailed off as she gazed at him intently.

His hand continued to caress her warm skin. “Talk to me, Evie.”

“I want another baby, Luke.”

Of all the things he thought she might blurt out, that wasn’t one of them. He moved his hand to her bare thigh. “You do? I thought you said three was enough.”

She entwined her fingers through his. “I love the boys to death, you know that, but they’re growing up so fast. I miss having a baby in the house.”

“Come here.” He pulled her forward until she was lying on top of him. When she dipped her head, he kissed her long and slow. “You really want another baby?”

She nodded, her long, blonde hair falling around them like a curtain, enclosing them from the world. “I was talking to Autumn today and she’s so excited about the new baby. It made me realize how much I want another child, too.” She kissed his nose. “Maybe I’m just broody with the new arrival coming.”

His hands drifted down her back until they encased her ass and he squeezed it. “Maybe. But if you really do want another baby, I’m on board.”

He didn’t miss the gasp of excitement she let out, and when her lips pressed against his, he wrapped his arms around her. “Do you mean that, honey? Truly?”

“Truly. I’d have a dozen babies with you, Mrs. Whittaker.” He shivered as she pressed kisses along his jaw. “You’re the one who has to do all the hard work.”

“I don’t think you’re getting a dozen babies, cowboy.” Her smile lightened his heart. “Let’s start with another one and see what happens.”

“Or two, if we’re lucky.”

“Maybe we’ll have a girl this time. Wouldn’t that be wonderful, to add a daughter to our family?”

“It sure would be.”

“But another son would be just as wonderful.” She paused for a few moments. “As long as he’s not like Travis.”

Luke laughed. One little hellion was more than enough. “I guess it’s time for you to stop taking the pill.”

She nodded, giving him a beaming smile. “Yes.”

He tugged on her tank top. “Take this off, Evelyn. Let me see your beautiful body.”

Evie had long gotten over her hang-ups about her post-pregnancy body as Luke had done his best to reassure her he loved her all the more. It was important to him she understood how precious she was, how precious their sons were.

They stripped off their pajamas, Evie sitting up as she straddled his thighs. He let his gaze roam slowly over her creamy skin, his cock hardening as he took her in.

Cupping her breasts, he ran his thumbs over the hard peaks. They’d gotten bigger, heavier since having the boys. Her belly was rounder, her hips wider. She had stretchmarks, which had faded over time, but were still visible.

She was so fucking beautiful she took his breath away, and when he told her that, she bent down to kiss him deeply.

And then her lips began to trail down his body. She bit his nipple lightly, then blew on it when he yelped, making it hard. She kissed her way down his abs, following the dark line of hair which led to the curls surrounding his long, hard cock.

Evie gave him a sultry look as she wrapped a hand around his erection, dipping her head and licking her way from the base to the head before swirling her tongue around and around.

Luke canted his hips up, the feel of her tongue driving him insane. “Fuck, darlin’.”

“Soon,” she promised.

She toyed with him a while longer, teasing him with her tongue some more before wrapping her mouth around the head of his cock and sucking him deep. He tried to keep his groans quiet, but the feel of her warm, wet mouth was almost more than he could stand.

“Evie,” he panted. “Sit on my face, right now.”

His wife lifted her mouth from his cock, her pale blue eyes widening. “What?”

“Come ride my face, cowgirl.”

Her eyes glazed over before she scrambled up his body, making him smile. Once she was comfortable, her thighs on either side of his head, he grabbed her and pulled her down until his tongue was able to swipe through her folds.

She was already wet. He took his time, licking and kissing and sucking on her clit. Her moans went from soft to loud enough that she covered her mouth, but her hips moved back and forth as he ate her pussy with abandon.

And he didn’t stop until she’d come on his tongue.

He smacked her ass as she opened her eyes, her body trembling. “Go ride my cock, darlin’.”

Evie shimmied down until she was right where he wanted her, then lifted her hips and eased herself onto his cock so slowly he ached. She was wet enough to take him balls deep in one go, and they both moaned as he filled her completely.

“Fuck.” His hands flew to her hips as she rolled her nipples between her fingers. “You’re so fucking tight and wet.”

“Oh, Luke.” She gripped his forearms as she began to ride him. “Make me come, honey.”

Watching her take her pleasure on his cock was an experience he never took for granted. Could never get enough of.

She swiveled her hips sensuously, sliding up and down. He could see how wet she was making his cock, and he became even harder.

When she eased down, he suddenly thrust up, and the cry she let out told him he’d hit the spot he was aiming for.

Evie fell over him, bracing herself on her hands, which were either side of his face. Luke lifted his head to suck on her tits as he held her in place and continued to piston up inside her.

“Oh my God.” Her breath was coming out in short, sharp pants. “Right there! So good.”

He gave her nipple a gentle bite before releasing it and letting his head fall back onto the pillow so he could watch her orgasm, knowing it was his cock making her come.

And come she did, violently. All of a sudden, she let out a sharp cry as her head fell back and her toes curled. A gush of arousal made his cock even wetter, and he continued to fuck her through her orgasm.

It didn’t take long for him to join her over the edge, his balls tightening as his dick started to swell. He groaned as his release poured from him, deep inside her body. She collapsed on top of him, their bodies slick with sweat.

Luke brushed a lock of blonde hair off his wife’s face and kissed her forehead. “You okay?”

“No,” she moaned, making him laugh. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to move for the next week.”

He loved the weight and intimacy of her body on his. “So don’t.”

She lifted her head just far enough to look at him, resting her chin on her fist. “I don’t think the boys would appreciate scampering in here tomorrow morning and finding us like this.”

Long gone were the nights of being able to sleep naked and reaching for each other in the early hours unimpeded by clothing. Luke missed that sometimes, but he wouldn’t trade his three boys for the world.

They eventually got up long enough to re-dress, then settled back into bed together. Evie cuddled close and he wrapped his arms around her as they talked for a little while. She was already excited about the idea of welcoming another child, and he kissed her over and over as she chattered away.

They’d just settled down to sleep, his body wrapped around hers, when a little voice broke through the dark.

“Mama?”

Evie sat up and switched on her lamp. “Charlie, are you okay? What are you doing out of bed, baby?”

Their youngest came running over to his mother, since her side of the bed was closest to the door. “I had a bad dream.”

She picked him up and held him tightly, pressing a kiss to his head. “Oh no, you did? I’m so sorry.” She pulled back the bedclothes, laid Charlie down next to her, and covered him up, her arms around him.

Luke propped himself up on an elbow and caressed his sleepy son’s cheek. “Go to sleep, buddy. You’re safe here.”

They watched until he’d dozed back off again, then Evie turned the lamp off and they settled down. Luke kissed her nape and curled himself around her once more.

When he woke early the next morning, he wasn’t the least bit surprised to find the bed had five bodies in it. He kissed his wife and sons before jumping in a hot shower, then prepared for his morning tasks. The family took turns feeding the animals on Sundays, and he’d drawn the short straw that weekend.

It wasn’t long before he returned to the cabin. Evie was in the kitchen cooking breakfast while the boys were all parked in the large living room, happily playing with their toys.

He leaned on the wall, his eyes drinking in the sight of his wife. She’d donned a light robe over her pajamas and pulled her hair up in a loose bun. “Something smells good.”

She jumped a little, clearly startled. “Shit, Luke! I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Sorry, darlin’.” He pushed off the wall and sidled up behind her, his hands on her hips and his lips on the side of her neck. “Love you.”

“I love you, too.” She turned her head just far enough to press a kiss against his mouth. “Boys! Breakfast is almost ready. Go wash your hands, please.”

The sound of little feet running to the bathroom made him smile, and he set the table while Evie dished up breakfast. Their dining table would easily fit another couple of kids around it, and it wasn’t hard to envision a highchair in place.

As the family sat down to eat, Luke knew home would forever be where his wife and children were, and he was grateful for them every single day.

The Whittaker twins find love in COMING HOME, featuring Luke and Evie, and FINDING HOME, featuring Cody and Autumn. COMING HOME was a finalist in the 2021 Colorado Romance Writers Beverly Award for Best Contemporary Romance. The Whittaker children will feature in the upcoming series AURORA SPRINGS, so make sure you sign up for my newsletter to learn more about their stories!

About the Author

Lissanne Jones currently lives in her hometown of Sydney, Australia, where she works with numbers in her day job. However, she much prefers using words to write steamy romances in which her characters find their happily ever afters.

An avid bullet journaler, she owns far too many journals for one person but has plans to use them all anyway. She also loves to read romances and never goes to sleep without having read at least one chapter!

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THE BILLIONAIRE’S VALET

LUCY LENNOX

CHAPTER ONE

IGGY

“WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?” Lio asked. Even though I was almost 9,000 miles away from my best friend, he sounded just as loudly annoyed as if he were standing next to my ear.

“Cape Town, South Africa,” I admitted, feeling a little sheepish. To be fair, when most people got bad news, they drowned their sorrows at the local pub, drinking two—or twelve—too many pints.

When I got bad news—the worst news—I apparently made spontaneous safari adventure plans.

I sighed. “Don’t start.”

“I already started,” he snapped. “Everyone’s worried sick. Your father said you’ve barely spoken a word since you heard.”

I raked shaky fingers through my hair for the millionth time. No doubt I looked half-crazed, which was perhaps a good thing. My expensive clothes and Tumi carry-on made me a sitting duck in the crowd of travelers trying to find ground transportation.

Normally, I would have only needed to look for my name on a tasteful sign indicating the car and driver that my valet—who was also my bodyguard, secretary, confidant, and the gravity that kept my personal solar system aligned—had arranged for me. But nothing was normal about this trip, considering I’d booked it myself while drunk and sobbing on the marble floor of my foyer.

“What news?” I asked, feigning casual disinterest. “My valet quit. Big deal.”

Lio made a choking, sputtering noise. “Jon Banks has been with you since we were fourteen years old. He’s your best fucking friend.”

“You’re my best fucking friend,” I corrected, trying to ignore the fierce jab to my heart at hearing Jon’s name spoken out loud. “B-banks was an employee, nothing more.”

“Bullshit. I know you’re hurting. Did he explain? Give you a reason? Anything? I asked Arthur, and he said Banks has kept everything close to the vest.”

My lips felt numb as I thought about Jon’s fierce loyalty. Of course he wouldn’t have said anything to Lio’s valet. I could have shot Banks in the kneecap for a lark, and he would have told the authorities he tripped and fell onto a bullet. I could just hear his soft, familiar murmur. “Silly me.”

I swallowed around a lump in my throat and wondered if I’d reached humiliation’s rock bottom yet. If I had one shred of dignity left, I’d fling it merrily by the wayside with another desperate text or call to Jon’s number, but I wasn’t strong enough to wait for another response that wasn’t coming. Instead, I kept Lio on the phone as long as I could to keep myself from breaking my own damned heart.

“How’s Felix?” I asked, feigning a cheery grin. “Still worshipping the porcelain gods?”

Lio let out a fond sigh. “I keep trying to tell my husband, sympathy morning sickness isn’t a thing. Our poor surrogate though. She’s having a rough time of it.”

My best friend, the king of Liorland, the man I’d slept with a thousand times to help scratch my own itch and allow him to do the same while keeping his sexuality out of the tabloids, had finally found love. It had meant an end to our casual friends-with-benefits scheme and the beginning of a giant, excruciating, mostly dry spell for me.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Pregnancy’s hard enough without being watched by the entire world.”

“Yeah. Everyone has a fucking opinion—like it’s any of their damned business. But she’s hanging in there. She’s strong as hell.”

I let out a relieved breath. Talking about Lio and Felix’s pregnancy journey was a safe topic. They already had a son named Chris, who was the light of all our lives. Part of me hoped the next one was a fiery little girl who gave them a run for their money.

“Boy or girl, you have to promise to put Ignatius somewhere in her name. You royals like lots of names, so no one will ever notice.”

He scoffed. “You think I don’t notice you trying to change the subject, but I do. I know you’re hurting. And I know you’re hiding.”

“I’ve loved him half my life,” I whispered, the words so small I could barely hear them myself.

“I know.” Lio’s voice was affectionate and kind. “And you need to tell him.”

I barked out a laugh, enough for three women near me in baggage claim to edge farther away. “Been there, done that. Have the rejection memories—many of them, by the way—to prove it.”

Lio hadn’t always known about my crush on Jon. But then I’d lost control one night and blabbed to Felix, who’d gone straight to Lio to discuss “what we should do about Ignatius.”

“Iggy… confessing your crush to Banks as a young teenager doesn’t count. He was ten years older than your skinny ass and would have been arrested on the spot for even considering it. Confessing again in a blackout-drunken stupor on your eighteenth birthday was also a poor choice. Besides the fact your parents were in the next room for our Hotchkiss graduation, Banks had also just returned from his mother’s funeral in Arizona. After losing her, he couldn’t afford to lose his job, too. You’re a billionaire. He’s your servant.”

“Don’t call him that.”

Lio grunted. “Sorry.”

“I was so fucking selfish,” I said, rubbing my hand over my face. “What he must have thought of me.”

I didn’t correct Lio’s assessment of how drunk I was. It was easier to let him think I could hardly remember that night than to admit I remembered it all: The desperate plea in my voice. The calm look of tender pity in Jon’s eyes. The feel of his hands on my body as he carefully unbuttoned my shirt only moments before racing me into the bathroom to vomit.

My face flushed with embarrassment as though it had happened last night instead of years ago.

“You’ve never given up on anything in your life,” Lio insisted. “Banks loves you. Find him. Talk to him.”

I knew Jon loved me. He loved me like one loves an errant but earnest child. Like one loves a longtime coworker with whom they’ve shared hundreds of inside jokes. Like one loves a benevolent employer.

Meaning: not anywhere close to the kind of love I wanted from Jonathan Banks.

“I’ve tried. He won’t answer my calls.” The lump in my throat grew to threatening proportions. “He didn’t even say goodbye. Just thanked my father for his years of employment and said it was time to pursue a new dream. Time to move on.”

“Really?” Lio asked, sounding suddenly perky. “He said it like that?”

Across the baggage hall, an older man in a dark suit held a sign with my destination on it. I began walking in his direction.

“That’s what Dad said. But I’m not sure what it could possibly mean. Jon’s dream has always been a simple one: To have his own vegetable-and-flower garden. A dog. Peace and quiet. That’s it… that’s the dream. I’ve told him a million times we could move anywhere in the world to make that a reality. I can work from anywhere. I just wanted him to be happy.”

“He’d never ask you to go out of your way for him.”

“Or maybe his dream just didn’t include me,” I said lightly, like acknowledging that truth didn’t rip my heart from my chest. I took a deep breath and made eye contact with my driver, giving him a slight nod to indicate he had the right passenger.

“Could he have had a different dream? Something you didn’t know about?”

If he’d asked me two days ago, I would have assured him there was nothing I didn’t know about Jon. His fondness for schedules and dislike of movie remakes. The growl in his voice when I teased him for either. The precise scent of my pomade when he applied it to my hair, which was so much different and better than when I applied it myself.

But now Jon was gone, and I wasn’t sure of much anymore.

I handed my rolling suitcase off to the driver. “There was one other thing he mentioned a long time ago.”

“What was it?” Lio asked.

“He always wanted to take the Blue Train through South Africa. He wanted to go on safari.”

CHAPTER TWO

JON

I STEPPED onto the platform and took in the long line of sleek blue train carriages with a clean white stripe down the sides. Being here was bittersweet. On the one hand, I’d never expected to actually make it to my dream holiday. On the other, I’d only pulled the trigger on such an extravagant expense to get me as far away as possible from the man I loved.

After all these years, I never expected the final straw would be something as benign as a fancy-dress fundraiser, but it was.

As I’d helped him with his costume that night—a simple white tank top and baseball cap wig—Iggy had vibrated with excitement. He’d chosen it to create a stir, and as usual, once Iggy fixed his heart on something, nothing on earth would shake him. He’d considered that night’s costume his “funniest, sexiest” idea to date.

But as I stepped close to apply the large “No Ragrets” tattoo to Iggy’s waxed upper chest and prepared to watch him walk out the door without me once again, I began to feel the deep, soul-crushing irony of the tattoo’s message.

Had I stepped forward another few inches, the tip of my nose would have fit perfectly into the dip between his collarbone, smelling his Jo Malone Whisky & Cedarwood cologne and feeling the warm comfort of his skin against mine. I’d imagined it so often in recent years that it felt familiar. Right. Even though it was impossible.

When I’d come to work for the Corbridge family, I’d never imagined feeling this way. Back then, my charge had been a teen boy who was more legs than sense and had a mouth ten times bigger than he was. I’d felt more like a babysitter than a valet—a six-year veteran of the British Army, tasked to keep the chancellor of the exchequer’s son from getting into trouble.

Thanks to meeting an actual royal valet while there, the indomitable Arthur, I’d done my job well. Eight years later, I’d brought Iggy home safely with an Ivy League college degree as well.

I’d assumed Iggy would let me go then, no matter how fond we’d grown of each other, but I’d been pleasantly surprised.

He’d made me his valet and social secretary, entrusting me with everything related to his personal life—his house, his wardrobe, and his calendar. Moreover, he’d made me his friend, sharing with me a decade’s worth of dreams and aspirations, endless sexual conquests and near-misses, and all the failures and triumphs of the work he’d chosen to do.

Ignatius Corbridge was passionate about being out. He was loud and proud about his bisexuality and did his best to make sure others could do the same by lobbying European governments and advocating for global victims of hate crimes. With his high-level political connections, Iggy had become a force to be reckoned with.

In short order, the rebellious teenager I’d been fond of had become a determined, witty, kind, joyful man I needed like oxygen. I’d fallen deeply in love with him, despite our age difference. Despite being his employee. And I’d treasured every moment in his company so damn much that I’d thought, This is enough, Jon. If you only get to love him this way, you can be satisfied.

Which only made it harder to witness what happened next.

I couldn’t point to the time when his partying lifestyle began changing from simple good fun to something more. Maybe a few years ago, when his friend Lio had fallen in love with an American and shocked the world by coming out and marrying him. Perhaps more recently. But suddenly, the brilliant man who could do or be anything he chose had… changed.

Iggy no longer spent time with people like Felix and Lio who loved him, or with his sister and nieces and nephews, whom he adored; but with a crowd of hangers-on who only valued his name and status. He’d stopped encouraging me to attend events with him—invitations I’d always appreciated, though never accepted.

He didn’t talk to me about the parties he attended or the people he’d met, let alone the people he went home with on a near-nightly basis.

In fact, he hardly spoke to me anymore at all.

On the rare occasions he was home, there was a kind of restless energy to him, like he couldn’t wait to be away again.

It was clear that whatever place I’d had in his life was no longer mine. I couldn’t stop it, and I’d known, as certainly as I knew I loved him, that I couldn’t stand by and watch distance grow between us.

So I’d smoothed the tattoo over his chest, taking way too much time to press it against his hot skin. I’d waited for him to walk out the door. Then I’d packed my things and left.

For four straight days, I’d had to practically handcuff myself to the hotel bed to keep from flinging myself at his feet in apology and begging to come home.

I’d never wanted anything more than I wanted Ignatius Corbridge, but he wasn’t meant for me. There were a million reasons why—the twenty years of personal service between us, the fact that I was a former soldier with no degrees and no pedigree, while he was an elite member of the posh set, born with a silver-and-diamond chandelier shining down on him from above. But the most important was that Iggy was going places, and I was so very bone-tired of watching him go without me.

It was high time I went somewhere myself.

The train platform was busy, but not nearly as crowded as a commuter platform would be. This luxury liner carried fewer than a hundred passengers, which was good. I was in South Africa searching for peace and quiet.

The beginning of a new life, I thought as I stepped into the car. My fresh start.

Working for the Corbridge family had been lucrative. It was one of the reasons I stayed for so long, even when it started to break me. Taking a safari train through Africa was a dream come true, and I wouldn’t have been able to afford it without Iggy and his family. I was grateful, truly.

Now, I would use this journey to plan my future—a cozy life in a small, picturesque village somewhere outside of London where I could afford a cottage with a garden. A life where I wasn’t Iggy’s valet or Iggy’s friend or Iggy’s… anything. I would simply be—

“Jon!”

I closed my eyes and told myself I was imagining the familiar voice. I refused to waste this trip with a detour to a mental facility.

I opened my eyes and took another step, and then I heard it again.

“Jonathan Banks.”

I turned around slowly to see both the best and worst thing that could possibly be following me onto this train.

Ignatius Corbridge.

The absolute, without-a-doubt, hands-down love of my life.

CHAPTER THREE

IGGY

SETTING eyes on Jon’s primly styled dark hair and his trim figure made me nearly stumble into the porter passing me with a luggage trolly.

Unlike my own hot-mess self, Jon was dressed impeccably in slim-fit trousers and a pristine button-down. His polished brown leather shoes looked right at home on the burgundy-and-gold carpeting of the luxury train car.

I called out his name in shock, unable to believe he was really here. The Jonathan Banks I knew would never actually splurge on his dream holiday. He would have reasoned himself down to a budget-minded mini-break at the West Midland Safari Park back home.

But when I saw him hesitate at the sound of my voice, I knew it was truly him. Jon had spent twenty years responding to my voice, and it was most likely ingrained in him by now.

Which was why it felt so strange to watch him blatantly ignore it.

“Jonathan Banks,” I called, suddenly annoyed at being ignored.

This time, he turned. The hesitation was clear in the coiled muscles of his back. “No,” he said simply before continuing down the narrow hallway of the carriage.

I stared after him. ‘No?’ What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

“This way, Mr. Corbridge. Your suite is the second door on the left just here.” The porter seemed not to have caught the tension in the air between me and a fellow passenger, but I had. It had filled my lungs with sludge and threatened to choke me.

I followed the man without thinking, entering my private suite and nodding along as he pointed things out. My brain was too busy shuffling through possible reasons for Banks’s snub to pay attention.

Had he quit because he didn’t like me anymore? Or…

An idea blasted through my mind like a rogue firework shot sideways and racing straight for a crowd of people.

Was he sick? Was he dying? Had he quit his job and indulged in this once-in-a-lifetime trip because of some terrible, life-ending news?

I dragged in a breath. I needed to know if he was okay.

I thanked the butler, watched him leave, and immediately snuck out of the suite, creeping down the hallway like a criminal to the compartment I’d seen Jon enter.

I didn’t knock or even warn him; I simply opened the door… and found him staring out the window with his hands in his pockets.

There was nothing to see other than the dirty white side of another train.

“Jon…” I began hesitantly. I’d never been a hesitant person. Once I established what I wanted, I made it happen. But there had also never been a time in my life, before now, that I’d doubted Banks or wondered how he’d receive me. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t turn around, simply lowered his chin to his chest and sighed. “Why are you here, Iggy?”

“I…” How could I possibly answer his question without telling him of my desperation? Of the bone-chilling emptiness he’d left in his wake and my desire to do something, anything, to make me feel close to him again?

He shook his head and turned. His eyes roamed over me as if assessing how I looked, how I felt, whether or not I was fit enough to be let loose in the world.

It had been his job, after all. And old habits surely died hard.

“You followed me,” he accused. “On my own time. You…”

“No!” I said, too loudly. “I didn’t know you would be here. I swear. I came because I…because…” I rubbed my face with both hands before firming my jaw. “I missed you.” My voice broke a little. “And I can’t… I don’t… I…” Why was this so fucking hard? “I want to be with you.”

There. I’d said it. The words I’d needed to say to him, exactly as Lio had instructed. Now we could move forward. Banks would understand my feelings. He always had.

Instead, he laughed without humor.

“You don’t miss me. You miss having someone to clean up your messes. You miss having your life organized and handed to you on a platter, ready to eat. It’s not me you miss, I promise.”

His words reached into my chest and shredded my heart. How could he think so little of me? Of what we shared?

“You’re wrong,” I said, feeling anger well up like blood from a deep gash. “You have to know—”

“Go away, Iggy,” he said, suddenly sounding exhausted. “I came here for peace. For escape. You’re the opposite of that. It’s why I left.”

How long could a man stand in one place and continue to take armor-piercing rounds to the heart and gut?

“Can we talk about it?” I whispered.

He shook his head. I could see his jaw shift like he was clenching his teeth. Was this worse than I thought? Was it more than disinterest? Could it be… hate?

I nodded slowly and threw up a grin. I didn’t care. None of this mattered. See me here not caring. I will never care. I am the king of not taking things seriously.

“Yeah, good. I understand. No problem. Enjoy your… trip.” I gave him a jaunty salute like an absolute nutter and returned to my suite, where I could sit and stare into the side of the same dirty white train car.

Sometime later, the dirty white train began to move. It took me long minutes before I realized it was actually our train moving out of the station, not the other one.

It didn’t matter. I would simply stay here and feel sorry for myself in this tiny train suite until we arrived in Pretoria in two days. Then I would fly back home to London. To my work. To my social obligations. To the days and nights stretched long and lonely ahead of me…

Utterly Jon-less and gray.

The sulk lasted several hours. I missed the special high tea to celebrate our departure, but I couldn’t have cared less. It wasn’t until the butler arrived to inform me about the formal dinner service that I realized I would need to actually eat if I wanted to have enough energy to continue my righteous indignation.

Besides, I’d moved from self-pity to anger strongly enough to change my mind about staying out of Jon’s way. Why should I? I had as much right to enjoy my safari train vacation as the next arsehole.

I rallied by hopping in the tiny shower and banging my elbows and knees through a thorough wash before getting dressed in my trousers and shirt.

As soon as I realized what kind of shirt I’d packed, I nearly declared defeat.

French cuffs.

The kind that required cufflinks, eight hands, and a superhero level of patience I didn’t have.

The kind that required… Jon.

CHAPTER FOUR

JON

I COULDN’T DECIDE if Iggy was trying to make a point to annoy me or if it simply came naturally for him.

The banging and knocking between our suites were becoming comical. The man was over six feet of slim, strong muscle, so I had no trouble picturing him in the cramped quarters of a train car lavatory. But when I heard him bark out one of his favorite curse words and knock something over, I had to roll my eyes at the dramatics.

“Not my problem anymore,” I murmured to myself.

“Sorry, sir?” the butler asked from the half-open doorway to my suite where he’d come to offer me assistance dressing.

The irony of this wasn’t lost on me. I was getting a taste of Iggy’s life.

I hadn’t expected it to be so heartbreakingly lonely.

“Nothing. I was simply noticing my neighbor was awfully frustrated about something. It seems not everyone can relax on holiday.”

He gave me a polite nod, but I could see the tiny curl of a smile. “Between you and me, sir, I believe he’s attempting cufflinks for the first time. I told him I’d be in directly once I help you.”

I stifled a laugh. There was no way Iggy would let a stranger touch him. Not only was his pride way too great to accept help under the best of conditions, but he’d also experienced an attempted kidnapping at age ten that had given him an aversion to being touched or cornered by people he didn’t know.

There had been many times he’d called me in tears to come rescue him from uncomfortable situations. Thankfully, his aversion to touch had never included me.

“Good luck with that,” I murmured with a smile.

But as the butler left, my gut began to churn with guilt. If Iggy needed help and he wouldn’t accept it from the butler assigned to our carriage, maybe I…

No. I no longer worked for him. It wasn’t my job to help him with cufflinks.

But as a friend…

I bit my lip. I needed to remember that Ignatius Corbridge and I weren’t really friends. We’d been employer and employee for years. Yes, we’d been close. Intimate, even. But he’d pulled away. Shut me out. It wasn’t my place to offer to help him with—

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, it’s just cufflinks,” I spat into my empty suite. I moved quickly down the hall to Iggy’s open door just as the butler escaped with an apology.

We exchanged awkward, polite smiles before I slipped inside.

“I said no, thank you,” Iggy said between clenched teeth, looking down at his mangled cuffs.

“Alright then,” I said primly, turning to leave. “I guess you don’t need my help.”

“Wait!” I heard a footstep before he stopped himself from coming after me. “Jon. Wait. Please… would you mind? You know how I am with these blasted things.”

I moved closer and reached out a hand for the sterling silver cufflinks. When I saw they were my favorite pair, intricately detailed octopi with a tentacle for a stud, memory assaulted me.

“No mortal can do his own cufflinks, Jon. He’d need eight arms like this little creature. See?”

“Or he’d need to start buying button cuffs,” I’d said practically, grateful for the excuse to hold his thick wrist in my hands and praying he never made that choice.

“Or they could get a Banks. It’s the reason I keep you around, you know.” His affectionate smile had told a different tale. “Sadly for them, I’ve got the only one.”

I swallowed hard and reminded myself that had been before.

“Poor choice for traveling alone,” I murmured.

“Mmph.”

I concentrated on attaching the cuff while trying not to take a creepy, desperate inhale of his scent. While trying to ignore the warmth radiating off a body that had always run a full degree warmer than others. While trying not to meet his honey-flecked eyes.

It was nearly impossible. Keeping my calm with the man I wanted most in the world this close was going to break me.

“Why did you leave me?” Iggy’s question was laid carefully into the air between us as if too delicate to be flung in my direction.

I took a deep, painful breath.

I’d known I’d have to explain myself if he ever happened to find me. Had prepared a polite answer to just this question. But the me on the end—not just why did I leave, but why did I leave him—hit my heart like a shrapnel bomb, and too many truths swamped me to force the lie out of my mouth.

Because I want to run my hands up your chest to your neck and cheeks and hair. I want to feel for once what it would be like to touch you as a lover instead of as a valet. I don’t merely want to run your home; I want to be your home.

My fingers fumbled the cufflink, but Iggy caught it in the air, saving me from the degradation—and temptation—of getting on my knees at his feet to retrieve it.

While I secured the cufflink, I tried to ignore his long, strong fingers, the healthy veins under his tanned skin, the worn-out, faded cotton of a friendship bracelet that a child had made him at an outreach event. I had no doubt the boxer briefs he wore under his dark suit trousers were bright, brain-melting colors or novelty prints meant to give a laugh to anyone lucky enough to see them.

No matter how formal Ignatius Kirkwood Corbridge appeared, he remained the same caring, fun-loving Iggy underneath his clothes, and that reminder would be my undoing.

I ground my teeth and forced myself to remember how many people must have seen his underwear in recent years. He had very few limits when it came to who he slept with. Men, women, groups of both… it didn’t matter.

To him.

It mattered to me though. Very much. And that was one of a thousand reasons why leaving was the right choice.

“There you are,” I said, flashing him the same fake grin he’d pulled on me earlier. “Right as rain.”

“Answer me,” he demanded through his teeth. “Can’t you just answer me?”

“You don’t need me anymore.”

“You’re wrong,” he gritted out. “So incredibly, mind-fuckingly wrong.”

“Surely you can learn to dress yourself. Button cuffs are a simple solution.”

He yanked his arm away, and I knew he was remembering the same conversation I had. “It’s not about the cuffs, damn it. I don’t need a valet, Jon. I need you. It’s always been you. Don’t you know that?”

Iggy searched my eyes. God only knew what he was looking for because I didn’t.

“You’re the only thing that made it bearable,” he said softly.

His words slithered into my ears and took root like an unwelcome parasite. The parasite lied. But it was a seductive liar, one whose sibilant come-ons could very easily lead me down a dangerous path.

I saw a video once, of a machine whose sole job was to crush cars in a skip yard. I felt like my heart had somehow found its way into one and was being squeezed into nothing.

He didn’t mean this… any of it. Iggy was simply lonely. It didn’t have anything to do with me specifically, and I could prove it.

“You don’t know me,” I insisted. “Not really.”

“Try me.”

“What was my first car?” I asked.

His eyebrows came together. “You didn’t have a car for a long time. You had a bicycle and then a motorbike. Your first car was probably the Lexus my father supplied when we lived in the States.”

I swallowed. Lucky guess.

“And who was the first man I kissed?”

Iggy’s signature cocky grin appeared. “That’s easy. That wanker from Birmingham who tried to convince you to quit your job. You’d waited to hook up with another man all through the military and our time in the States only to end up with that sad sack.”

“False. You don’t know as much about me as you thought, Ignatius.”

His eyes flared. “I didn’t count the time I tried kissing you when I was in college. I was hardly a man at the time. Or so you said.”

My face heated. I needed to get out of his room. Immediately. “And I was right.” Even though it remains the most beloved kiss in my memory because it was you.

“Have dinner with me.”

It wasn’t a question but a command, and I longed to yield to it.

“No, thank you. Have a good evening, si—Iggy.” I’d almost called him “sir,” something I refused to do anymore…

At least outside of my fantasies.

I nodded awkwardly and left. When I made it safely into my own suite again, I let out a breath and clenched my hands into fists.

Why was he doing this? Why come here? Why ruin my great escape? For all his wealth and privilege, my Iggy had never been a spoiled brat.

He’s also never been a liar.

I pushed that thought away. He couldn’t possibly mean the things he was saying.

Could he?

I thought of the question I hadn’t had the guts to ask Iggy when he’d tried to prove how well he knew me:

What would I do for love?

The answer was as wide as the ocean and as vast as the wild lands surrounding us as we raced through the South African night.

CHAPTER FIVE

IGGY

HE WASN’T UNAFFECTED by me.

I twirled the thought through my mind as I made my way down the long, hushed corridors of the train to the dining car.

Jon’s hands had trembled as he’d held my cuffs. His cheeks had flushed as they always did when he stood close. And the scent coming off his warm skin was the cologne I’d given him for his birthday last year.

He didn’t believe I wanted him. That was the problem. He thought I was tagging along on his adventure from a selfish desire not to lose my valet.

It still stung like a bastard that he could misunderstand me so badly, but I could be patient.

It wasn’t like I had a choice.

When I arrived in the dining car, I was taken to a table for two. The uniformed server removed the extra place setting with a sympathetic frown—just in case I hadn’t felt pathetically lonely already, thanks very much—and I was halfway through my first martini when Jon walked past my table to the one ahead of mine.

I couldn’t help but drink in the sight of him, something I’d consciously tried not to do in the past. I hadn’t wanted Jon to feel uncomfortable, to see my longing for him and be unable to return it. In fact, I’d made a conscious effort not to speak to him much at all of late, to distract myself with other things and people as much as I could. I hadn’t wanted to give him a reason to leave.

See how well that’s worked out?

The server who sat him went through the same place setting removal and welcome spiel, leaving him sitting directly in front of me. Also alone.

“This is ridiculous,” I told his broad back. “Come sit with me.”

Jon’s body stiffened until his shoulders were by his ears. “No.”

“We’ve shared a thousand meals together.” A thousand easy conversations where we’d talked each other’s ears off, losing time telling each other stories or asking each other challenging questions about life and the world. “Why not one more?”

He stretched his head from side to side without responding.

“You know, Banks… I can help you with that tension problem of yours,” I said, unable to help myself. Wanting to get under his skin the way he currently lived under mine. “Anytime. Just knock on my door. Day or night.”

He didn’t reply. Meanwhile, my words conjured a vision in my head, and I knew I’d be up all night wondering how easy it would be to break the lock on Jon’s door and slide into bed beside him.

“Great, now you’re a creep,” I muttered to myself.

I took another healthy swig of the martini and wondered how long it would take for the server to bring the bottle of wine I’d ordered.

“If only I’d brought my phone,” I said a bit louder. “If only a certain arsehole hadn’t trained me that it was bad manners to bring my phone to dinner.”

“Live in the moment,” Jon had said. “Be present.” But I didn’t want to live in this moment if I couldn’t talk to him or see his face.

“Wonder what that arsehole would say,” I mused, “about the etiquette of not responding when someone is speaking to you.”

Jon sipped his water calmly, and the bubbling cauldron of want and need in my gut threatened to boil over.

“Fuck this.” I threw my napkin on the plate and shoved my chair back. I’d ask the server to send my dinner to my suite instead.

“Oh, for god’s sake, Iggy,” Jon said, turning around at last. “Come sit here, then, if you’re going to be an idiot about it.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him to fuck off and take his prim, judgmental attitude with him. But I was too desperate for his company. I was willing to beg for scraps.

I grabbed my place setting and moved to his table. “What a lovely invitation. Don’t mind if I do.”

He glared at me. “The condition of you sitting here is to stop this spoiled-brat routine. Understand?”

And now we were back to him being my guardian rather than my friend? “Yes, sir.”

Jon’s eyes roved over my face. “You haven’t been sleeping,” he accused. “Christ, Iggy, you know a night at home once in a while wouldn’t—” He shook his head once. “Why are you here?”

It took me a moment to find my voice. Jon cared. I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed that confirmation. “At your table? You invited me.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he did what he always did when he was unhappy with me. He waited me out until I started incriminating myself.

“I told you, I didn’t know you’d be here,” I began, dropping the fake cheer and sarcasm because it was exhausting. “Truly. I came because I remembered you talking about this train, and I…” I twisted my tongue inside my mouth, forcing it to say the words. “I wanted to be close to you. I missed you. Not the valeting. Not the managing. You, Jon. And I don’t know how I fucked things up or what I did to make you leave, but if you’ll come back with me, I’ll do anything—”

“Anything?” Jon looked down at the fork he was fiddling with. “Then tell me, why haven’t you had a serious relationship before?”

The question startled me, but I’d said anything. So, I’d be real with him, even if it scared him off. At least I’d know I’d given it—him, us—one last try.

I took a breath and laid my heart on the table between us. “I have been in love with the same man since I was fifteen. I would say fourteen, but I actually hated you a little at first. My father’s spy. The fun police. It wasn’t until I accidentally saw you with your shirt off that I realized how hard I could fall for a fun-killing prick.”

Jon swallowed. “You hardly knew me.”

“Don’t,” I snarled low. I didn’t want to make a scene, but I wouldn’t allow him to minimize what I felt for him. “I knew you. I’ve already proven that. I know you still.”

His eyes widened, but he didn’t argue. I continued. “You were happy to escape the army, get away from your family, lick your wounds where only a bunch of rich kids could see. I know you had nightmares from Iraq, saw things you wish you could erase from your memory. I loved you for that. For caring. For fighting. For being honest about it breaking you.”

I met his eyes. “Then I watched you come back from it. I knew you talked to someone when we moved to Cambridge. You became lighter somehow. You smiled.”

Jon looked back at the damned fork. “I shouldn’t have told you any of that.”

“Bullshit. You taught me that a man could define his own life. That I shouldn’t compromise. I came out because of you. Found my passion because of you. You helped me build a life worth living. How could I not fall in love with you, Jon, even if I thought you’d never love me back?”

Jon sucked in a breath but still didn’t meet my eyes, so I kept talking.

“I’ve been so terrified of scaring you off that I’ve tried my damnedest to put space between us. Even put space between me and every person who’d ask me about you. I’ve pretended to be carefree when I’m dying inside, to be sleeping around when I haven’t fucked anyone in months because none of them are you. But you left anyway. And I realized it’s not a life worth living if I can’t be myself. If I can’t have the man I love. So I’m not sorry that we’re both on this train. I’m not sorry that I get a chance to tell you these things. Because you should know that you have my heart, even if you don’t… if you can’t…”

Jon’s hand tightened around the fork, and I realized I was losing. Panicked, I blurted, “What would it take to convince you my feelings for you are real? That I know what I want?”

Jon looked up at last, and I was taken aback by the honesty in his eyes.

He wasn’t ignoring me. He was terrified.

“You would have to stay with me forever and promise me you would never leave.”

Tears simmered behind my eyes, threatening to fall. Could this be real? Was this happening?

After twenty fucking years, was Jonathan Banks finally going to give me a chance?

CHAPTER SIX

JON

IGGY STOOD and grabbed my hand, nearly tipping the table. Without sparing a glance at the diners around us or the poor servers who would have to deal with our aborted meal, he dragged me down the narrow corridor back to our train car.

Once he’d yanked me through the door to my suite, which was fractionally closer, he shoved me against the closed door. “Tell me this is real. Tell me you truly want this.”

Before I could say yes, fuck yes, he added, “Tell me you’re not going to have regrets,” in a broken voice.

Emotion vibrated off him. Fear, concern… love.

Iggy didn’t lie. He didn’t change his mind when it came to the things that mattered most in his life. If he said he’d been months without sex, he had been. And if he said I had his heart…

I brought my hands up to caress the sides of his face. “I have been in love with you since you were nineteen years old. I would say eighteen, but I actually hated you a little at first. You were a spoiled brat with a big mouth.”

Iggy’s laugh sounded like a sob. “You still think that about me.”

“True.” I smirked. “But when you turned nineteen, you finally had the body of a man to make me forget.”

He lunged forward then, crushing my mouth with his. I made an embarrassing sound, the kind someone makes after two decades of wanting something he couldn’t have.

The kiss was every-fucking-thing. Power and raw hunger, tenderness and delicate care, and jaw-dropping love in every single breath.

His lips were firm and warm, and he tasted of crisp gin and lime. I wanted more of it. I wanted to sip at his lips and swallow entire moments of this.

My hands gripped the front of his dinner jacket, the fabric smooth and familiar against my fingers. How many times had I fantasized about this while smoothing his lapels?

“Don’t hurt me,” I croaked against his mouth.

Iggy pulled away, suddenly worried he was physically harming me. It took only a glance at my face before he realized what I’d meant.

“Hurting you would be like cutting out my own fucking heart, Jon. Don’t you know how much I love you? How I want to spend my life with you? How I want to make you happy?”

The words washed over me then, clearing away the last of my fear. I wanted him as much as he seemed to want me. So what the hell was I waiting for?

I lurched awkwardly toward him, intent on another searing kiss. The noise he let out as our lips came together again was feral, like an animal finally released from a cage.

His body was a coiled spring, but his touch was tender and reverent. The way his thumbs skimmed my jaw, his nose brushed my cheek, his knee gently nudged my legs apart so he could get closer.

The cold wood of the door against my back had turned warm. The dim lighting was soft and intimate. The slight movement under our feet felt exotic and a little wild. We were somewhere in the sub-Saharan night, alone together on the brink of a new adventure.

Our best adventure.

As his hands moved, sliding my jacket off my shoulders, I realized I was the happiest I’d ever been. Finally, we were here together without the job between us. We could be equals. Partners.

Lovers.

For once, I pulled off his jacket without a single care for where it ended up. I yanked his shirt out of his trousers and shoved my hands underneath, relishing in the feel of his hot skin.

“Want you so much,” I admitted into the side of his face.

“Thank fuck,” he said on a laughing exhale. “I’m scared to death of disappointing you.”

“The infamous playboy is afraid of letting me down in the sack?” I teased.

“I’ve never made love before.”

Iggy had the ability to stop my breath. I stared at him while my brain slotted so many details into place. The careless attitude toward sex. The lack of serious relationships. The many times he’d only half-teased about wanting to be with me.

I’d never taken it seriously.

Until now.

“I love you,” I said, surprising myself as much as I’d surprised him. But it was the raw truth, and I no longer wanted to deny it, deny him. “And I’m sorry I didn’t believe you at first. I wanted it too badly to believe it could be real.”

Iggy’s eyes filled with tears that didn’t spill. “I’ve waited my whole life to hear those words from you,” he whispered.

I moved him toward the bed and lowered him onto the crisp, white bedding before taking my time removing every single piece of his clothing.

I’d done this for him a million times, but this time was so different. Every touch held twenty years of unspoken affection and a lifetime of love to come.

When he was finally fully naked, I began undressing myself slowly so I could watch the heat smolder in his eyes.

He was hard, cock jutting up thick and long. I could finally take the time to stare, to imagine the feel of it inside me… my mouth, my throat, my ass. I wanted him everywhere.

“Come here,” he begged. His cheeks and neck were as red as his cock, and his eyes were undeniably hungry.

After I’d removed the last of my clothing, I crawled onto the bed from the bottom, dropping open-mouthed kisses inside his ankle, his knee, his thigh.

When I was close enough for Iggy’s hands to reach into my hair, he took great delight in messing it up. “I’ve fantasized about holding your hair and choking you with my cock,” he said in a voice rough with desire. “Messing up your perfectly styled hair and coming all over your fucking face.”

To punish him for putting that hot image in my head, I nosed his sac before running the flat of my tongue up his shaft.

“Fucking fuck, Banks. Fuck.”

I took the head of his cock in my mouth and held it there, inhaling the musky scent of him and tasting the salty warmth of his precum.

Two could play at this game.

I pulled off him and dropped too-light kisses up his belly to his nipples before propping myself above him and lowering my voice to a sultry slide. “I’ve fantasized about you shoving me up against the fitting room mirror at Drake’s and fucking me raw, your hand clamped tight over my mouth to keep me from shouting out your name for everyone to hear.”

His eyes flitted back as if all the oxygen in his brain had been depleted, but his hands banded more tightly around my back to hold me close.

Iggy took a deep breath before flipping me over onto my back in one quick move. His hard cock ground against my inner thigh like a promise. “Do you want me to fuck you, Jon?” The words were a tease, a continuation of the game.

Rhetorical.

We both knew how it would be between us. One of the reasons we’d worked together in our roles for so long was because I was a natural submissive to him, and he thrived on dominating me. I would do anything for him, and he’d always made sure I’d wanted for nothing, that I was cared for and safe. Even when he’d thought that meant pulling away from me.

Our eyes locked together, and a million words flowed between us in the quiet room. The sound of our shallow breaths, the hard ragged thumping of two hearts on fire, and the silent begging of men who had so much to lose and everything to gain.

Iggy’s mouth dropped to my collarbone, the tip of his tongue sliding against my skin until I forgot to breathe. He continued down my chest, sucking on each nipple before nipping them and moving down more. When he finally took my dick in his mouth, I tried to memorize the sight of it. Of his full lips stretched wide around my cock. Of his tongue laving eagerly and his hands still trying to roam everywhere.

Within moments, he’d pushed my thighs up over his shoulders and moved his mouth down until his hot tongue was circling my hole and sending my heart rate into the stratosphere.

“Oh god,” I groaned, cursing and thrashing as my most tender skin felt the soft abrasion of his tongue and then the harsher abrasion of his stubbled chin.

After a few minutes of sucking and licking, he brought his fingers up to stretch me out until I was out of my mind with pleasure, with need, with stark desperation for release.

“Not yet,” he murmured against me. “Not yet.”

“Iggy,” I begged, reaching down to try and yank at his hair.

He pinned me with his honey-flecked eyes. “Not. Yet.”

I arched backward on the bed and squeezed the base of my dick.

I was nothing if not obedient.

CHAPTER SEVEN

IGGY

MY BRAIN WAS GOING to explode. I was naked in bed with Jon. I was fucking Jon. He was pliant and willing beneath my hands, beneath my tongue. He tasted like the world’s greatest treat, sweet and salty and made just for me.

I needed a condom and lube, but they were in my own suite, and we were in Jon’s room.

“Fuck,” I said, climbing off him. “Do not move. I’ll be right back.”

“Bathroom,” he blurted. “Toiletry kit. And stop glaring at me.”

“I thought you weren’t sleeping with anyone,” I said stupidly, taking the two steps to bring me to the tiny bathroom, where I quickly grabbed what I needed.

“I wasn’t. Yet. I was hoping to find someone to…”

Anger flared hot and sharp in my gut as I stared down at him. “I see. Someone to fuck who wasn’t me. Someone to help you forget who you belonged to. Someone else to—”

Jon yanked me down again and cut off my anger and jealousy with more kisses. I could have kissed him for hours and hours and hours without needing more.

Liar. I wanted more. Much more.

When we were both hard and desperate again, biting out curses and humping against each other’s sweat-slick skin, I grabbed for the lube and condom before suiting up.

“Tell me you’re sure,” I said again. So help me, if he even for one minute expressed regret after this, I wouldn’t be able to survive it.

“Inside,” he croaked. “Please.”

I folded him in half and began to press inside his tight heat. Jon’s body was incredible, perfect, made for me.

“Jon,” I breathed. “Fuck. So tight.”

“Go slow,” he urged, blushing over how long it had been for him.

I ran a thumb against the pink splotch on one cheek. He was so damned beautiful. His dark hair was messy against the white sheets, and his skin was damp with our shared heat.

“I will love you until the end of time,” I confessed into the shell of his ear. My hips rocked back and forth, earning ground inside of him. When I finally bottomed out, I let out a breath and stayed still to let him adjust.

His glassy eyes tried focusing on me. “Iggy, please.”

I pulled back and thrust several times until finding just the right angle. Jon arched his neck, cords set out in stark relief. I leaned in to nibble and lick them as I sped up my hips, and Jon met me thrust for thrust. This was entirely different from the sex I’d had in the past. It was full of meaning and promise.

How had I lived so long without this? The look on his face, the taste of his skin, the smell of his need… I was drunk with it.

“Want you to come,” I said roughly. “Want you to feel good.”

I could barely think with the way his body was clasping mine, but I remembered to reach for his cock, to stroke him in time to our bodies’ rhythm. He made the most incredible noises and filled the space around us with his pending climax. I both wanted him to come and never wanted it to end.

The sound of my name on his tongue, spoken between gasping breaths, was enough to bring me to the edge. Jon’s body contracted just as my orgasm hit, and I slammed myself balls-deep into him, holding him tightly and promising to any gods who would listen that I would take care of this man forever if fate would just… let me keep him.

Let him be mine. Please.

When I finally had to pull out, he made a disgruntled noise. I pressed a kiss to his sweaty cheek and murmured for him to stay there while I disposed of the condom and cleaned us both up.

Jon watched me as I moved around the small space, servicing him for once. I wondered what he was thinking, whether he would ask me to leave or beg me to stay. Break my heart or take it gently into his own keeping.

After returning the cloth to the small bathroom, I stepped back into the bedroom and tried to read his mind.

His face split in a mischievous grin. “You’re very awkward after sex. I never would have imagined.”

For once, I wasn’t in the mood for teasing. “Please let me stay.”

The smile fell from his face. “I thought that was a given.”

Air whooshed from my chest as I dove into the bed beside him and yanked him into my arms. “Thank fuck.”

Jon lay with his head on my chest for a few minutes while unspoken words filled the air around us. Finally, I couldn’t stand it any longer.

“I’m moving to Oxfordshire.”

He sat up to face me. “What? Why?”

“My parents finally gave me the cottage. I’m going to continue my work, but I’ll move there to oversee the renovations in my free time.” I watched him closely. He loved my family’s historic home in Oxfordshire.

“But… you love London,” he argued. “Your social life. Your friends…”

“… are exhausting,” I finished with a sigh. “I told you, I was trying to distract myself.” I threaded our fingers together. “From a very inconvenient attraction to my very sexy valet.” I nipped the tip of his finger with my teeth. “It didn’t work. Besides, I think I’d prefer working with a view of a nice garden instead of the city noise.”

Jon pinched his lip between his teeth. “Or… or I could oversee the renovations…”

I gripped his hand more tightly, but my voice was as gentle as I could make it. “Would you come to the cottage and be with me? Make it a home for us? Plant your garden and watch it grow with me?”

Jon’s eyes filled. “I want that. But are you sure—”

I didn’t let him finish that ridiculous question. Instead, I grabbed his face and kissed him before tumbling him down onto the bed beneath me and showing him with my lips and hands and body—and love—that he was mine and I was his.

As the train moved swiftly through the South African night, taking us closer to new adventures we could share together, I could honestly say I’d never been more sure of anything in my life.

EPILOGUE

JON

One Year Later

“I DON’T CARE if we’re not technically related. I still say you look like me,” the love of my life told his goddaughter, who was nestled in his arms as he sat beside me on a wrought iron bench in the autumn sunshine behind our cottage, our sheepdog at our feet. “Isn’t that right, gorgeous? Which is why you should have been called Iggianna. Who names an innocent child Penelope Henrietta Winnie Wilde Grimaldi, anyway?”

Penny clasped Iggy’s jumper in her chubby fists and chewed it, contemplating the question seriously. Then, without warning, the princess stiffened all four limbs simultaneously and let out a high-pitched shriek that echoed off the stone walls of the garden.

“See?” Iggy demanded, holding her out for someone else to take. “She’s horrified! And you two call yourselves parents. Don’t worry, love. You’ll always be Baby Iggie to me.”

Felix laughed. “I don’t know if Penny looks like you,” he said wryly, bending to claim his daughter, who immediately calmed in her daddy’s arms. “But I definitely see similarities. Stubbornness, for example.”

Iggy sputtered in disbelief. “I believe you mean decisiveness. Penny and I know what we want, and we make it happen.” He turned to me in appeal. “Isn’t that right?”

I thought about that morning. Our bed. His Ferragamo tie around my wrists and his cock in my mouth. My mouth tipped up in a smile I couldn’t have held back if I tried… so I didn’t. “You are very good at getting what you want.”

The look Iggy sent me was hot enough to melt glass—more than hot enough to melt a valet-turned-cottage-renovation-coordinator directly into his loving arms, especially when he slipped his finger into my belt loop, tugged me closer, and dropped his arm over my shoulder.

“I was thinking it was the late nights that they had in common,” Lio said, grinning at his husband. He paused the royal horsey ride he was giving his son to shoot Iggy a pointed smirk. “Or the periodically excessive drool.”

“Papa, go,” the toddler prince commanded, tugging on Lio’s hair, and with a grin at his royal consort, Lio obediently trotted off.

Felix gave the pair a besotted smile, reminding me of the bumpy road they’d had to their own happy ever after.

I’d once thought that kind of love was unattainable for me, but now I lived it every day.

Felix turned to Iggy and snorted. “Uncle Jon says no more late nights around here. Uncle Iggy’s boring now. Writing editorials about LGBTQ rights? Endowing a community center? Engaged?” He shot me a wink. As he danced Penelope away over the grass, he called over his shoulder, “Ladies and gentlemen, the notorious Ignatius Corbridge has settled down.”

“Pfft.” Iggy held me tighter. “That’s absurd.”

“Wellll.” I tucked my tongue in my cheek. “You did get an award for that editorial…”

“Yes, but—”

“And you did ask me to marry you.” I held up my hand to show off the gorgeous ring he’d commissioned for me. “Unless that was… someone else?”

“Definitely not,” he growled, grasping my hand possessively.

I grinned. “So maybe not ‘settled down.’ Maybe just… settled.”

“Maybe happier and more in love than I ever thought possible,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. Then, in a firmer voice, he added, “But definitely never boring.”

“Welll,” I said again, teasing this time.

“If you doubt me, Banks,” he warned, “I’ll simply have to prove it to you. Over and over again.”

The promise in his voice made me shiver. So I turned in his arms and whispered in his ear, “Yes, sir.”

Ready for Lio and Felix’s hidden royal story? Check out Felix and the Prince here: https://readerlinks.com/l/2652750. For all other Lucy Lennox books, including several free novellas, visit: www.LucyLennox.com.

NO REGERTS

MARY ANN MARLOWE

I CRAMMED my carry-on into the overhead bin, cursing fate. And time. And Jude.

Mostly myself.

I’d had one job. An eight-hour flight would be plenty of time to rue mistakes made, paths not taken.

One glance at the misspelled ink on my forearm, and my bile rose. Oh, the irony.

Yesterday—was it really just twenty-four hours ago?—I’d corralled Jude out of this same airport into a bright Paris morning, found our driver, and headed straight to Montmartre on a mission. Jude bounced with excitement to be away from his hovering stage parents, while I freaked the fuck out about babysitting the resident pop brat. All I had to do was make sure he recorded one song. We had twenty-four hours. What could go wrong?

The song, “Sans Regrets,” had been an unrelenting worldwide smash hit the entire summer, but because it was sung in French, the artist, Laurent Gilbert, hadn’t cracked the U.S. airwaves. Everyone wanted to capitalize on the wild success of the song, and so the idea was born to let Jude duet with the French singer. With Jude Delmonico on the remix, that catchy-as-shit tune would sweep the states, the DelManiacs would drive it to platinum, if not gold, and Laurent would gain an American audience. A win for everyone.

If I could keep the little shit in check.

On the drive, Jude didn’t stop listing everything he could do in Paris on my watch. “I’m old enough to drink here.”

I glanced up from my phone. “You’re not going out drinking. We’re here to record.”

He squared his shoulders, like this was a negotiation. “I could get a tattoo.”

And I could handcuff him to his guitar. “You can get a tattoo at home.”

“My parents aren’t here to stop me, though.”

“I’m here to stop you,” I reminded him.

“You’re not the boss of me, Boomer.”

“Millennial, and I beg to differ.”

I dismissed him with a yawn and watched the streets pass by. I’d never been to Paris, and I didn’t want to miss a thing.

When the agency had discovered this talented twerp, Jude wasn’t much more than image and charisma. A golden boy who’d been blessed with sex-machine vocal chords. He’d never known true loss, so his lyrics tended to sound like a Veruca Salt lament. Inexplicably, he’d won a Grammy and had a string of hits.

If all went well, my boss hoped she might entice the elusive Laurent to sign with our company, but for now he seemed content to remain with his team in France. There was a lot riding on the success of this one single.

At the corner of an alley, the car let us out, and I breathed in Paris. The air smelled of bakery and cigarettes and lavender. We’d rented an Airbnb near the studio, but we were short on time, so I ushered Jude straight to the address in my email, winding past closed shops, the narrow lane deserted and eerily silent.

“Did everyone die?” Jude asked.

I had to wonder the same thing. For a major city, Paris was sleepy.

When we found the studio, I dropped my carry-on by the door and peered through a window into darkness, dread tensing my muscles. Had the city been evacuated? Were they still locking down for the pandemic? I scanned the email to confirm we were there on the right day.

“They’re not expecting us for another half hour. Let’s walk around a bit, maybe find some food?”

Jude sagged, as if I’d suggested we visit a museum. “I’m gonna wait here.”

He pulled his hoodie up, obscuring his signature blond curls, slouched down the wall, headphones in, and closed his eyes.

Searching for civilization on my phone’s map, I turned a corner and ran face-first into a man’s chest with an oof.

“Pardonnez-moi, madame,” he said, as he held my shoulders to steady me.

“I’m so sorry. Pardon. Excusez-moi,” I blurted out, backing up to give him space.

He wore mirrored sunglasses, which struck me as odd at nine a.m. Navy blazer sleeves rolled up to display tanned forearms, and under that, he sported a lightweight gray sweater, a relaxed but elegant style. Sexy Europeans, man.

“American?” he asked, giving my jeans, faded concert T-shirt, and Converse sneakers a blatant once-over. I returned his scrutiny, studying his scruffy near-beard, his wavy hair, spiked up, like it had a mind of its own, the threads of silver betraying his age.

“I am,” I confessed.

“Lost?”

“Just looking for coffee.”

He turned back the way he’d come, hooking his arm for me to follow. “Come. I will show you the best place.”

I glanced around for witnesses. I’d always been deliberative, weighing the cost-benefit ratio before acting. Following a strange man in a country I’d never visited pinged my risk assessment hard. On the one hand, he looked nice enough. On the other, serial killers often did.

“I can find my own way, thanks.”

His radiant smile disappeared into a pout. “I insist. It is very near. Come with me.”

What decided me was an immediate need for caffeine. I figured as long as he didn’t try to lure me to a second location, he wasn’t likely to haul me into a van.

As we zigged and zagged, he asked, “Are you from New York?”

I laughed. “Not every American is from New York, you know.”

“Ah, true. Where are you from?”

I sighed in defeat. “New York.”

We emerged on a bustling thoroughfare where a dozen tables dotted a broad sidewalk. Here a few people read newspapers, scrolled phones, or chatted over fat mugs of steaming café au lait. Heaven.

I expected my spontaneous guide to make his excuses and bolt, but he slid out a wicker chair and gestured for me to sit.

“What would you like?” He plopped down across from me, hailing a waiter who smiled as though at a friend, or maybe a regular customer. “Espresso? Café au lait? Americano?”

Ruffled by his presumption, I stammered, “I, uh, don’t really have a preference. I take my caffeine however I can get it.”

“You—” His pretty lips pursed, “How do you say it? You glow with the flow?”

Unsure if I’d heard him right, I bit back a smile and said, “Yes, I’m easy glowing.”

I felt bad for even subtly mocking him. His English was excellent, while I could barely conjugate regular verbs without checking Google translate.

The waiter arrived, speaking French beyond my 101 abilities. It sounded so musical and sexy, I swore I’d subscribe to Duolingo as soon as I got home.

Coffee ordered, my companion asked, “So, what is your name?”

Maybe because of how directly he spoke, a sense of familiarity washed over me out of nowhere. Had we met? How could we have?

“Annie.” The more I tried to place him in my memory, the more the vague feeling dissipated, like chasing after the nostalgia in a subtle fragrance. “And yours?”

“My friends call me Enzo.”

“Enzo,” I repeated. “Like Ferrari?”

His eyebrow rose above his sunglasses. “Do you like cars?”

“My father.”

“Ah.”

“So, are you Italian?”

“My father.”

Touché.

The coffee arrived, frothed with cream, and smelling delicious. Enzo lifted his mug in a toast. “To the moments out of time.”

It struck me as poetic, perfectly describing this weird blip in our regularly scheduled program.

“I’ll drink to that.” And I did, moaning at the incredible flavor.

“I was right, no? Best coffee.” Enzo leaned back in his seat, relaxed, oozing confidence, like there was nothing at all strange in joining an unknown tourist for coffee and small talk. Maybe that was a French thing. Maybe it was an Enzo thing.

At least I no longer worried he was steering me toward his murder dungeon. He seemed easy going indeed. He was certainly easy on the eyes with his Roman nose, his plush lips, and that hint of scruff. I wished I could see his eyes beyond his shades. He smiled, and I added a slight dimple to the inventory.

He must have been cataloging my features too, because he said, “Your hair is dark, like night.” I sputtered at the flattery, thinking it was the start of a cheesy pickup attempt, but his true meaning became clear when he added, “Maybe you have some Italian, too?”

Ah, genealogy small talk I could handle. “Seven percent from my mother’s side. She’s mostly Slavic. My dad’s side is straight-up English all the way.”

“America. It’s the melting spot, right?”

I tried not to grin at the cute mistake. “Where is your family now?”

“Mostly in Marseilles. Yours?”

“Not in New York,” I teased.

“So, then California?” His lip curled up, giving away the joke.

I snorted. “Yes, because those are the only two places in the U.S.”

“There is also Nashville,” he laughed. “Country music capital.”

That seemed delightfully random. Then again, I’d be hard-pressed to name four major cities in France. “My family’s mostly from around Virginia. Do you know where that is?”

He started to answer, but my phone alarm trilled, alerting me that I had an event scheduled to start in ten minutes. I growled. I didn’t want this conversation to end.

Enzo glanced at his own watch. “I should go.”

He opened a wallet and dropped a colorful twenty-euro bill on the table, ignoring my protest.

When he stood, I followed suit, stretching out a hand to thank him for the coffee. He gripped hold, but rather than shake, he reeled me in, laying a solid kiss on my cheek. Up close, the telltale scent of cologne clung to his skin, a subtle spice I wanted to inhale. He dropped back and said, “It was lovely to meet you, Annie.”

I let go of his hand, parting with an odd pang.

It was an ending to one of those rare slices of life you don’t recognize until it’s over. Enzo had named it a moment out of time, and I took a mental snapshot, already regretting my failure to get a last name, his Facebook profile, anything. But even though he’d become something more than a stranger, we weren’t friends, and it was too weird to ask now.

This stranger-danger detour was already more daring than anything I’d done in a long time.

Enzo hesitated, like he was calculating the same odds, and I thought for a second, he might change his mind and come back. I swallowed, nervous to appear too eager, too pathetic. But the instant he started to turn, I called, “Wait.”

He paused while I fished through my purse and produced a business card, internally screaming at myself to be wary, not to give a potential stalker my contact info. Quelling my misgivings, I held the card out to him. He looked at it, then at me, before gently sliding it into his wallet, like it wasn’t something he’d toss in the dumpster as soon as he turned the corner.

“It has my social media on it.” My skin was on fire from blushing. I never did anything this forward.

He looked genuinely surprised, and I hoped it meant women didn’t casually throw themselves at him on a regular basis, but he had that comfortable-in-his-own-skin vibe that worked like a magnet. “Thank you, Annie. I know it sounds bizarre, but I was already regretting losing this connection.”

It would have sounded impossible to me even an hour ago, but I couldn’t shake the feeling we’d met before. Like I’d already lost him once and needed to hold that tenuous channel open.

As he walked away, I ogled his backside, enjoying the view. I’d given him the power to ghost me, but that was okay. The universe could decide if I’d hear from him again or if he was lost to the wind. Why I even cared was beyond me. We’d barely even spoken. I’d known him for less time than it took to solve a Wordle.

Convincing myself to forget about him, I turned back to find the waiter had set a basket of bread on the table with butter and tiny jars of strawberry jam. Blessing Enzo for ordering food, I dove in, savoring my Parisian breakfast, my tourist morning, my alone time away from Jude, and my temporary freedom from the music agency.

What if I could stay right here forever?

The idea stunned me because I didn’t do impulsive. My friends constantly nagged me to take more chances. What could be more impetuous than moving to France on a whim?

The fantasy soured almost as soon as it had started. I had responsibilities at home, a job, and I didn’t even speak French. Still, it was a nice little daydream, like imagining a winning lotto ticket.

My phone buzzed, and for a beat, I had the ridiculous hope Enzo might be sending me a friend request, but it was just Jude, urging me to get back to the studio. Laurent Gilbert had arrived at last.

With a sigh, I finished my coffee and wound back toward the studio, experiencing a surprise twinge of instant nostalgia when I passed the corner where I’d run into Enzo earlier. How silly.

Jet lag must be making me loopy.

The door to the studio opened onto a flight of creaky stairs, and I climbed to a large room with worn mahogany floors and an assortment of instruments dotting the walls. Behind a large window, in what I assumed was the production control room, I spotted Jude and hurried in.

“Hello,” I said, catching my breath, hoping to establish a professional tone with the two other men in the room. “I’m Ann Keaton, Jude’s manager. I apologize for arriving late, but—”

The man closest to the door lifted his head, and I stuttered out whatever excuse I’d been about to say.

It was him.

“It’s you,” he said, grinning.

With his sunglasses off, I might have recognized him by those denim blue eyes alone, but when I’d researched him, I’d paid more attention to pics from when he’d won a reality singing contest over fifteen years ago. He’d aged beautifully.

“Enzo?”

It took me a minute to reconcile the European celebrity with the random stranger I’d befriended. Had he known I was Jude’s manager from the start? Or was this some freaky serendipity?

“Lorenzo Gilberto by birth.” He held out a hand, as if we were meeting for the first time. “But my professional name is …”

“Laurent Gilbert,” I finished.

An older man to his left introduced himself as Pascale, Enzo’s sound engineer.

All of a sudden, “Sans Regrets” began to play over the speaker, and Pascale boasted, “I practically wrote this song.”

“In your dreams, old man,” Enzo laughed.

I’d heard the song about a thousand times now and hummed along, even managing a few words of the chorus. “Viens mon amour. Viens à moi.” Enzo, Laurent, shot me a glance, a sly smile playing on his lips, and it hit me that he’d probably written those words for someone. Come, my love. Come to me.

I wondered who. Lucky, lucky woman.

Enzo started flipping through a notebook with pages of dark black words half scratched out until he landed on one with the lyrics so elegantly penned, it might have been photocopied from a book of poetry.

They were poetry, his lyrics. I’d scoured them on the plane ride, wondering how Jude would suck the life out of them.

“I have translated the verses into English.” Enzo left the journal and moved to a stool, snagging a guitar on the way. “Let me show you.”

One foot propped, he strummed a simple rhythm, adding a flourish that showed off his mastery of the instrument, a bit of Spanish flair, and began to sing.

“Rain, rain on my parched stone,

Soak me to the bone.

Bring me your little death,

The steam of your breath.

Drench me tonight.”

Enzo’s eyes lifted and pegged me as he sang. I was trash for a beautiful man with a guitar, and those lyrics made me swallow. Hard. With suggestive lyrics like that, no wonder this song was so popular. I caught myself before I started to fan my face.

“Viens, mon amour. Viens à moi.

Ce soir, demain, toujours.

Sans regrets.”

When he paused, I sighed audibly. Jude glared at me, and I realized I was blushing.

Jude said, “I can’t sing filthy lyrics. My fans are fourteen-year-old girls.” He picked up another guitar, strumming a few chords. “I already rewrote it anyway,” he continued. “Listen.”

He riffed something new, a bit of ad-libbed intro before launching into his new verse.

“Shine, sunshine, through the clouds,

Smile so pretty, girl.

Now that you’re in the world

My heart beats so loud.

Be mine tonight.

Come on. Come on, be my baby.

Tonight, tomorrow, always.

No regrets.”

I mastered my expression against an eye roll. Jude’s lyrics tended to be nearly abstract in their meaninglessness. I figured it was so he’d have less to remember on tour. The sad thing was that it wouldn’t matter. With his highly commercial voice, edged in soulful grit, he could sell it. Throw in his trademark smolder, and he made virgins sweat and their moms spend money.

Jude’s version would sell if he sang about peanut butter and donuts. Probably even better.

When I eyed Enzo to gauge his reaction, Jude stopped playing. “Don’t look at him. This is my song. I decide what I sing.”

I squeezed my fists until I could control my tone. Acting as his manager, I was expected to get Jude whatever he wanted, but as the adult in the room, I’d had enough. It was my job to make sure the song got recorded at all. “Jude, remember, we agreed to leave the chorus in French. You’ll be singing that part with Enzo.”

He scoffed. “Whatever.”

With that reluctant agreement, Enzo dragged a stool over, ignoring my client’s appalling behavior, and patiently talked him through alternate suggestions. “I see where you are going. What if, instead of ‘Shine, sunshine, through the clouds,’ you tried, ‘Break, starlight, through the night’? Add a little mystery, no?”

Jude’s face shuttered. “Still too dark. Dawn,” he said. “Break, dawn, bring morning light.”

He was being stubborn, but it was better than what he’d started with. Enzo relaxed and moved to the next, worse line, catching my eye. We shared a long-suffering mental exchange, and that uncanny sense of familiarity intensified.

A couple of hours passed while they negotiated the rest of the lyrics and practiced the chorus. Jude boasted that he made French sound sexy. I managed to keep a poker face through the entire interaction. Enzo somehow never showed any signs of irritation. It was a pleasure watching him work, slow, competent, bringing out the best in Jude. And whenever he sang, my hormones lost their shit. Jude’s voice was honey, but Enzo had honed his for years and wielded it like a panty-dropping weapon.

Honestly, moments like this were why I’d become a manager. I didn’t have a lick of musical talent, but I recognized it, coveted it, admired those who had it. Witnessing the collaboration of two musicians at the top of their game kept me spellbound. I leaned against the wall, breathing in the smells of wood polish and must, and enjoyed my own personal concert.

Eventually, Enzo stood and stretched, setting his guitar on the stand. “Good start, but let’s break for lunch. We can hammer out the rest this afternoon.”

Jude said, “I saw a Five Guys when we were driving in. Can I go there?”

I groaned “You know we’re in Paris, right?”

“You don’t have to come with me. I can manage on my own.” His childish tone belied the assertion, but he was right. He was eighteen, and he’d been to Paris before, though usually with an entourage. He got around New York City on his own. Presumably, he could handle walking a few blocks to grab lunch.

“Should we meet back here around two?” Enzo asked.

Before I could object to a two-hour break, Jude shoved his phone in his back pocket, hoodie up, sunglasses on, and bolted for the door. “See you losers later.”

Enzo donned his own mirrored sunglasses. “Would you like to come with me?”

Come to me.

Suddenly, a two-hour lunch sounded perfect. “Where to?”

“This is your first time here, no? Let me take you on a little tour.”

My heart skipped a beat, like we had this secret friendship just because we’d met outside the studio.

But when he led me around the corner to where a dozen motorcycles were parked, I balked. “No way. I’m not riding on one of those.”

“We’re not going far. I promise, it will be safe. I’ll drive. You sit.”

He held out a helmet, and I started to shake. “It’s too risky.”

“I thought you liked to glow with the flow.”

“Not when it might mean breaking my neck.”

“Do you want to go with Jude? Play it safe?”

He had me there. I thought I was being open-minded because I was willing to expand my gastronomic experience, but I couldn’t do this. “I don’t want to ride on the motorcycle.”

He set the helmet on the seat. “Another time maybe.”

And that was it. He didn’t argue or try to convince me. He just gestured up the street. “If you don’t mind a little exercise, I can still show you.”

I followed him mostly uphill along twisty cobblestone streets until we stood at the base of an eternity of stairs. I couldn’t even see the top.

“It’s a bit of a hike, but the view is really worth it.”

I was getting used to his accent, how he said word it instead of worth it. Jude thought he made French sound sexy, but he had nothing on Enzo’s English. “Show me.”

“Come.” I shivered, hearing the echo of the sexy-times lyrics. I couldn’t resist humming the chorus, and he smiled, repeating himself in French. “Oui. Viens.”

He held out his hand, as though to encourage me, but once I slipped my palm against his, he twined our fingers, and together we climbed. It was exhausting but worth the trek if only for the feel of his hand in mine. I hadn’t realized how starved I’d been for this simple touch. Parched stone.

Once at the top, along a road edging a park, we looked out over the city, and I had to agree. “The view is stunning.”

“Very.” When I turned, I found Enzo looking at me. I inhaled sharp, and he bit the corner of his lip, like he was weighing his words. “I know this will sound like a …” He snapped his fingers, searching for the word. “A pickup?”

I braced for the come-on. Was he about to say he lived two blocks away and suggest we go to his place for a sexier view?

Instead he said, “When I saw you this morning, I thought maybe we’d already met.”

A chill skittered down my spine, but I didn’t confess I’d had the same thought, or how his eyes gave me the oddest sense of déjà vu. It was too far out there. “You must have seen my picture on the website.”

“Maybe, but no. It was stronger than that. Like I know you.”

“Where could we have ever met before? I’ve never even been to France.”

“But I’ve been to New York.”

“Surely, I’d remember meeting you.”

“Maybe we met in a previous life, then.” He frowned, gazing out at Paris below. “As I said, it sounds totally cocoa.”

Cocoa for Cocoa Puffs, I thought, hiding a grin. “I don’t believe in previous lives.”

“Maybe somewhere, our paths crossed. Who knows? It doesn’t matter now.” Enzo faced me. “I wish you were going to be here longer.”

Time stood still for a heartbeat, then rushed at me, urging me to kiss him, to grab life, to act rashly, carelessly, for once. If I stood on my toes, I could just lean in and—

But I didn’t take chances like that. I wasn’t built that way, no matter how much people tried to push me out of my comfort zone.

“Should we think about food?”

He held up a finger. “Yes, but first, I have one more surprise around that turn.”

A few moments later, we stood at the base of a landmark I recognized: Sacré Coeur. The basilica was even more spectacular in person. “Wow.”

When a voice beside us sang, “Viens mon amour,” I barely registered what I was hearing.

Then a second joined. “Viens à moi.”

A moment later, maybe a dozen people chorused, “Ce soir, demain, toujours. Sans regrets.”

Walking up to a tourist attraction in the middle of the day while being famous might not have been a brilliant idea. Enzo’s sunglasses only fooled me, apparently.

Fans approached from all sides, some singing, some chattering words I could only interpret from frequent proximity to musicians. I wondered if Enzo could go anywhere in Paris without being recognized. Well, besides a Montmartre side street at nine in the morning.

Enzo flowed into the role with ease, like it was nothing special, like he was no big deal. He signed some autographs, took selfies, and answered excited questions while I stood back, observing him as this different person, this public persona.

I wanted him back as my own, private friend. I was jealous of humanity.

My phone rang as he was trying to peel himself away, and I grimaced at the name on the screen. “This is Annie,” I answered.

My boss said, “Where is Jude?”

“He went to get lunch. We took a short break from recording. Everything was going really well this morning.”

“Then why are fans tagging him outside a tattoo parlor near the Gare du Nord?”

“What?” I put the phone on speaker while I opened Instagram, and there he was, the little hooligan, hanging around a lobby decked with tattoo art. “Shit. I’ll go find him.”

“Check your texts. I’m sending you a link.” After a beat. “He’s Jude Delmonico, Annie. He can’t just wander around wherever he wants. He’ll cause a riot.”

Great. I hung up as Enzo sauntered over. “That didn’t look like good news.”

“Jude’s started an international affair.” I opened the website. “How do we get to here quickly?”

“This way.”

We hurried to a side street where some tourists were exiting a taxi, and with a wave, we had our transportation.

The taxi deposited us near the parlor. Pushing through the throng on the sidewalk, we entered the shop, talked our way past the receptionist, and discovered Jude reclining in a chair as an artist bent over his forearm, wielding the pen. He already had the word No written out along with a capital R.

Jude glanced up and attempted a smile, but it turned into a wince. “I’m commemorating the song we’re recording.”

Honestly, it was kind of adorable, though I’d never admit it. “If you ever finish recording it.”

“The hard part’s done. Listen, I’ve been practicing the French.”

And with that, he began to sing the chorus. The tattoo artist paused and looked up with surprise. “Ah! ‘Sans Regrets’!” He nodded back at the half-finished tattoo with an Oh of recognition. Then he went back to work, now singing the song under his breath.

“Your parents are going to kill me.” My boss was going to fire me.

“Whatever, Grandma.” He tried to scoff, but it was ruined by a yelp. “You ought to worry less. Have fun. No regrets, baby.”

Spoken like an eighteen-year-old who’d been spoiled half his life.

“Yeah? I should just blow off my responsibilities?”

His eyebrow dipped. “I am not your responsibility.”

“And what if Laurent tells you to piss off because you’re more trouble than you’re worth?”

He snorted. “I’m worth a fucking lot.”

Like I said, spoiled. I wasn’t intimidated. “You’re not worth much to me. Not if I get fired for losing control of you.”

“How about I make you a deal,” he said, effecting a sly tone I didn’t like.

“Yeah? Like you pay me off, and I give you free rein? Ain’t happening.”

“More like, I won’t cause you any more trouble at all. I’ll finish the song and be a perfect angel.”

God, that was worth bargaining for. “And what do I have to do in return?”

“Get this tattoo with me.” He smirked, triumphant.

“Ha. Ha. You are hilarious.” I had no problem with anyone else deciding to permanently ink their skin, but for me? I didn’t even buy shoes without serious advance planning. “You expect me to write those words on my arm?” I had to laugh at the idea of me, me, with the words No Regrets inked on my body.

Enzo nudged me. “You know you don’t have to do this. We’ll go record as soon as he’s done.”

“You won’t if I don’t go back to the studio.” Jude had that smug certainty in his eye. He knew he could get whatever he wanted by virtue of who he was. He wasn’t wrong either. My boss would straight up murder me if we returned without the song.

Then again, did I want a job where I’d have to capitulate to unreasonable demands? “No.”

Jude scoffed. “It’s not like I’m suggesting you donate an organ. Just get a little tattoo.”

“There is no difference,” Enzo said, quietly, but I could hear steel in his voice. “It’s her body. Her choice.”

“I love you for saying that.” I didn’t want to explain how fraught that expression was right now back home.

A flicker of understanding crossed Jude’s face at Enzo’s words, either because it came from another dude, or because he heard the echo in the language from causes he’d come to support. I hoped to connect the dots for him.

“Jude, maybe one day I’ll want a tattoo, but not right now, certainly not like this. This isn’t a decision you should be making for me. You understand that, right?”

Jude groaned, like the lecture physically pained him. “I was only fucking with you anyway.”

I nearly punched him. “You promise you’ll behave now?”

He only snickered in response, but he followed us back to the studio once he’d gotten his tattoo care instructions.

After grabbing lunch, Jude and Enzo spent the next several hours working out the logistics of their vocals. Once they settled in, everything started to gel. It was amazing to experience the creative process from conception to completion.

“You guys sound amazing,” I told Enzo during a break.

“We have a lot to work with. Jude’s instincts are good.”

“Really?” I bit my lip. I shouldn’t have said that about our own client.

Enzo chuckled. “He’s just young. I would like to bury everything I ever recorded when I was his age. Go listen to the song I had to record after that reality show. It is to die for.”

I didn’t let him know he was using that phrase wrong. I loved his strange idioms. “What’s it like to be so famous that young?”

“To be honest, if I could find financial success with music but without fame, I’d take it.”

“Do you ever wish you could go back and start over? Not win a reality show? Not have radio hits? Live a quiet life, incognito?”

His lips quirked into a wry smile. “But then I wouldn’t have met you.”

I pushed at his shoulder, and it was a mistake because it only made me want to lay my palm flat and test that muscle, peel back the fabric, feel his skin. “Be serious.”

“I am. But no, why would I want to do things differently? I get to do what I love.”

“And the woman you wrote that song for?” I side-eyed him, feigning disinterest.

“Is a pushy Parisian man nearly twice my age.”

“Oh.” A boyfriend. I blinked back the foolish disappointment. Why had I thought he’d been flirting with me? He had been flirting with me, but maybe it was stereotypical European charm, and I was so enamored with Enzo, I’d let myself believe the attraction was mutual. “He must be very happy with the song.”

Enzo shrugged. “Pascale, are you happy with our song?”

Pascale looked up from where he was connecting a cable to the microphones. “I told Enzo to write a hit, and he did it. And then he paid me very well which makes my wife happy. I will be even happier if we can do that again.”

“So there’s no woman?” It was brazen, but if Enzo could open up, so could I. I didn’t have time to play it safe right now.

“No. Not now. There was once. Many years ago. We were never, uh, bien assortis. How you say? Well seated? Now I don’t waste my time chasing after women. I believe love exists, but I am patient to wait until she comes to me.”

Come, my love.

My knees weakened. I understood his hesitation so well. I’d tried dating apps and blind dates and set-ups, all awkward attempts to force a spark with someone, but it was like Enzo said: a huge waste of time. I wanted big love, not a place holder. I wanted someone who could make me swoon with a glance, someone whose words made me combust, someone whose touch I craved with a bottomless need. But the idea of risking my heart, chasing after someone, scared me.

Come to me.

“I think you did write that song for someone. You just haven’t met her yet.”

He blinked, then his eyes shot to mine. “I am optimistic.”

Enzo and Jude worked right through dinner, ordering some delicious steak frites. Enzo insisted I let the fries soak up the steak juices, and I moaned at the taste. He grinned and said, “That is what I like to hear.”

While they practiced take after take, I sat in the corner, Googling Enzo, almost hoping to unearth red flags so I could walk away without always wondering what might have been. But I found nothing. He did charity events, spoke out against injustice, and had a smile like sunshine through the clouds—to borrow Jude’s banal words. What if I’d met him in New York instead of Paris? What if we had more time to get to know each other? To see where this might lead?

Jude announced, “That’s it. We’re going to start making this worse if we don’t record the track now.”

Pascale shooed me into the soundproof room, and just like that, everything got serious. On the first take, Jude came in early, riffing nonsense, and Enzo nodded along, unfazed. He delivered his own parts perfectly. Well, not perfectly, but the imperfection in his vocals added character, and he leaned into the scratchy tone as he sang the sexy French lyrics.

Everything—the instruments, the vocals, the lyrics, Enzo’s tune, even Jude’s scatting—all crystallized into a moment of creative triumph. A hit song coming together before our eyes.

Just before midnight, they called it a wrap. I could rest easy now that my job was done. Pascale would work his magic in post-production for the radio single, and Jude could start performing the song live, maybe as soon as tomorrow night.

This cocoon of magic was ending. Our flight left in the morning, and I’d go back to my routine. Enzo would probably forget we ever met.

“You know, I still don’t want a tattoo, but …” I grabbed one of the million sharpies we kept on hand for whenever Jude got ambushed for autographs. “Would it be weird to ask you to write out the song title in your beautiful handwriting?”

“On you?” He tilted his head.

I nodded. It was low-stakes, but it might remind me in this moment to relax, to take some chances.

“Of course. If it’s what you want.”

I flattened my arm on the piano, and he bit his lower lip as he carefully wrote No Regrets on my skin. When he was done, I tried to imagine it as the permanent tattoo Jude had tried to force on me, as a forever reminder of this day. Maybe in a distant future I’d be ready for something like this.

But when I looked closer, I burst out laughing. Enzo had written: No Regerts.

He gave me a confused look, craning to re-read it. “Merde. I made an error.”

I snort-laughed again at the beautiful irony of it. And really, the mistake was the best part. It encapsulated how Enzo continued to get the smallest things wrong, coloring his near-fluent English with heedless optimism. It spoke to how he sang with confidence, imperfections be damned. How he took chances, rode his motorcycle, and did what he loved for a living without fear. He kept putting himself out there, despite mistakes.

I wished I could capture that joie de vivre, take risks, regret what I’d done instead of always second-guessing what I hadn’t.

And I swore to myself, I’d finally stop getting in my own way, stop being so afraid of failure that I never actually lived. Surely, I could handle a little hurt, a little love lost. I could put my heart on the line, take a risk.

I leaned against the piano, aiming for a casually inviting pose, and asked, “Where are you going after this?”

His eyebrow cocked. “Would you like to see where I live?”

I liked that he didn’t couch the question in excuses. No promises of a better view of Paris. No invitations to feed me.

“Let me make sure Jude finds his way back to the Airbnb.” Responsibility, then risk.

With an exaggerated yawn, Jude waved me away. “It’s been a long day. My tattoo hurts, and I just want to go pass out.”

Pascale offered to escort him, so I said goodnight to them both. As soon as I was alone with Enzo, butterflies exploded in my chest, but I pushed past the fear and the doubts.

“Do I have to ride your motorcycle?”

He laughed. “If you want, but it would be easier to walk.”

“You live nearby?”

“This is my studio. I have an apartment upstairs.”

I looked down at the message penned on my own flesh. I’d have so many regrets if I didn’t at least find out how Enzo kissed. “Show me.”

Enzo’s apartment was simple. White walls, aqua doors, French windows opening out onto a small balcony with a view of more rooftops and sky. It smelled faintly of Enzo’s cologne, a scent that now worked like an aphrodisiac.

The minute I crossed the threshold, Enzo spun me, pressing my back against the door, his fingers loose in my hair. He whispered something harsh, urgent, in French, the meaning clear enough, but I was greedy to know his thoughts. “English, please.” My voice sounded like sandpaper.

“More time,” he said, laying his palm on my cheek. “I want more time.”

Acting on sheer bravado, I took my chance, leaning in to catch his mouth in a kiss. He moaned and sucked my lips, tongue brushing mine.

Soak me to the bone. Drench me tonight.

He broke away with a sigh. “Today, I wanted to leave Jude at the tattoo parlor, board a train, and take you to the south of France.”

“Is that where you normally live?” I tugged at the hem of his shirt, slipping my hands under the fabric to skim his stomach. He had soft hair near the edge of his pants, and I wanted to see what he looked like, follow where it went.

What if we’d boarded that train? We could steal time.

“I work here.” He followed my lead, breathlessly answering questions between kisses, his hands roaming under my T-shirt. It was as if he were two separate people, one sitting at a cafe, carrying on a normal conversation, the other seducing me with his body. “I usually live near my family in Marseilles.”

His shirt came up and off, revealing a toned chest, not chiseled or buff, but real, imperfectly perfect.

My shirt followed his to the floor.

He took my hand, pressed his lips to my wrist, peppering kisses up my arm. His smile curved into my skin as he brushed the words he’d written, but his eyes lifted to mine, and I knew this was no joke. “I don’t want to be a regret.”

Enzo was always going to be a regret one way or another. I’d need to cheat the laws of physics to wake up in his arms tomorrow.

And then what?

I’d probably never see him again. The agency would never fly me back to France. Enzo would stay here. The most this could ever be was a one-night stand.

We might become online friends, chatting for a few months, promising to see each other again, then we’d drift, watching each other’s posts, commenting less frequently, until we were only acquaintances via algorithm.

But I wanted to regret what I’d done, not what I hadn’t, for once.

“No regrets,” I whispered.

“Come.” He led me into the bedroom, kissed my shoulder, and peeled down my bra strap, sending goosebumps dancing along my flesh. I popped his fly, and slid my hands across his back, forcing his pants down with my forearms. Then I nudged him to the bed so I could pull off each shoe, then his pants, until he sat before me, Laurent Gilbert, Enzo, total stranger to me until this morning, now completely exposed and beautiful. I drew in a breath at the sight. How was this man here, now, with me in this impossible moment?

Enzo was right.

“I want more time,” I confessed. It wasn’t fair. I couldn’t have everything. But I could take this.

Enzo pulled me to him and slowly undressed me, without urgency, wasting time decadently, like we had so much. I touched his chest, kneaded his muscles, tickled the hair on his torso, following my fingers with my mouth. When my hand reached his upper thigh, I couldn’t resist the temptation of his hard cock any longer. As I palmed the velvety skin, Enzo moaned so prettily. It gave me a wicked thrill to know I’d done that, and I dragged my thumb down his shaft just to watch him fall apart a little bit more.

He rolled toward a side table, slid open a drawer, and set a condom on the nightstand, without making a move to put it on, like that would be my decision. Like it was there, take it or leave it. And then he explored my body like I had his, thumb on a nipple moments before his lips followed. A palm glided over my stomach, moving with practiced ease, so smooth until his fingers grazed my pleasure zone, and I said, “Please. I want you tonight.”

Tonight, tomorrow, always.

He broke away for only an instant, tore open the package, and rolled the condom on one-handed. I only let myself wonder for a heartbeat at how quickly this was happening. It felt so right, so perfect, and I had the strangest thought that this spontaneity was somehow a long-time coming. When Enzo slid inside me, our bodies knew exactly what to do, rocking together, giving and taking. Enzo caressed me and then, with one finger, coaxed a powerful orgasm, leaning in to kiss me on the mouth as I came.

Bring me your little death,

The steam of your breath.

I gasped, chasing the endorphin-rush, then nudged his shoulder to push him onto his back so I could fuck him hard and fast, watching him the whole time. With my fingers curling in the hair on his chest, the taunting words on my forearm rippled, and I gave myself to the moment, confessing my desires in a whisper, making promises I could never keep. Enzo’s confessions remained a mystery shrouded in French, but when he came, he said my name.

We collapsed together, tangled bodies, until we could catch our breaths. Enzo got up long enough to ditch the condom and then snuggled me against his chest.

“Out in space,” he said, twisting a strand of my hair, “stars are exploding, right now. Entire planets are born and die all the time.”

Pretty words, but I was lost. “What does that mean?”

“These are enormous cosmic events, sucking in galaxies, star systems, far, far away, and yet, here we are.” He touched my nose. “You and me.”

I traced the happy trail on his stomach, not really caring about astrophysics. I just wanted to experience the wonder of one person. “Are you saying we’re insignificant and nothing matters?”

He turned on his side. “Au contraire. The world is vast, yes, but we have found each other.”

True. “That’s nothing to sneeze at.”

He repeated, “Nothing to sneeze at,” like he’d never heard that particular idiom before, and I could picture him filing it away, probably wrong. He hmmed, like he was turning it over in his mind, before he said, “It was summertime. So hot, the rain came in a torrent.”

“What was?” I rolled back a little to watch him speak. Up close, he was so easy to look at. I was half tempted to get my phone out and take a picture. I would take a picture before I left.

“In France, we say it was raining ropes.”

“We say cats and dogs.” Had we moved on to meteorological ramblings?

“Thunder rumbled almost at once with the lightning.”

“Are these song lyrics?”

He shook his head. “It was impossible to get a taxi. This annoyed me because I didn’t want to be at that party any longer.”

“What party?”

“A drummer in Brooklyn invited me to celebrate before his band went on tour. I don’t remember the party. I just remember the rain.”

Something clicked in my memory. I went to a client’s party in Brooklyn one summer. The rain that night … “I stood on the stoop, wondering if I should run for the subway station, but it was blocks away.”

“And I had an umbrella.”

I scanned his face, trying to recall the man who’d spent a soggy hour with me once, years ago. “That was you?”

“Do you remember?”

“I felt so out of place at the party, and I wanted to leave, but the sky broke open.”

We’d arrived at the subway station bedraggled, soaked to the bone. We rode back to Manhattan, giggling at how utterly drenched we were.

“That umbrella was worthless,” he laughed.

“I remember.”

“We talked on the subway until we had to part ways.”

Sharing that misery with someone else had turned a terrible night into a funny adventure.

I wanted to say I’d often wondered whatever happened to him after that, but I met a lot of people in my job. I couldn’t even remember what we’d talked about. Did we have chemistry? Or did we look too much like drowned rats? Had he invited me to his hotel? Had I turned him away out of fear?

“What made you think of that?”

“You, just now. That day, you said, ‘This weather is nothing to sneeze at,’ and it stuck with me. It was the first time I’d heard that one.”

“Mystery solved, huh?”

“And they say lightening never strikes a second time. Do you think it must mean something?”

The cynical part of my brain was crying out at the impossibility. “Is it any weirder than exploding stars in outer space?”

“It cannot be sheer coincidence.”

We both inhabited the world of music, so it could be coincidence. But it felt like fate. “You’re going to make a believer out of me.”

Enzo wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and I melted into him. This illusion would end in a few hours, but I wanted to indulge in it while I could.

My phone buzzed, and I sat up to dig through my purse for it, groaning as Jude’s name lit the screen.

“Annie. Can you come get me?” He sounded like he was crying.

“Where are you?”

“In jail.”

Fuck. “Where, exactly?”

He gave me all the information he had, and I repeated it to Enzo. “Does that mean anything to you?”

“It means we’re taking the motorcycle,” he said, jumping up and dressing quickly.

“Hang tight, Jude. We’re coming.” I followed Enzo out to the alley, my fears from earlier utterly forgotten in the face of certain unemployment.

He handed me a helmet. “I can go alone if you prefer.”

“I trust you.”

I climbed behind Enzo, familiar with his body now, but still thrilled at the chance to wrap my legs around his thighs. The rumble of engine crashed into life below us, and I held onto his torso. Why had nobody told me how sexy this could be?

Fame had its price, but the benefits came in handy at three a.m. in a Paris prefecture. When Laurent Gilbert walked into the station, the officers came alive. He translated to me that Jude was being held for his own protection after causing a scene at a local club. While we waited for him to be brought out to us, I checked Instagram, face-palming at all the tagged photos. He’d snuck out and managed to order a drink before chaos ensued.

I was going to kill him.

When Jude emerged, he didn’t look particularly chastened. Whoever called me crying had been swallowed up by this man child.

I grabbed his elbow. “Come on then. Let’s go get a taxi.”

We walked Enzo to his motorcycle, and as much as I’d resisted earlier in the day, I would have given anything to climb back on with him, one more time. Another ten minutes pressed into him. Another moment. Might as well ask for infinity. He took my hand. “Can you come back to my place after you get him settled?”

It was tempting. Two more hours. One. Anything at all, but I couldn’t. “It’s late. We have an early flight.”

“You could miss it? You could stay another day.”

I wanted to stay forever, but the clock had struck midnight. The bewitching hour was over. We each had our own worlds to return to.

“I have to make sure Jude gets home. He has a benefit concert tomorrow night.” I scanned the sky, dawn bringing the morning light. “Tonight.”

The concert would raise money and awareness for women’s reproductive rights. Jude wasn’t always mature, but he knew how to use his voice for good causes.

“You couldn’t send him home and stay?” The crack in his voice echoed my own regrets.

It wasn’t possible. Time was up. I leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I loved getting to know you, Enzo. Maybe use that card I gave you to contact me?”

He swallowed. “I’m going to find us more time.”

It was sweet that he thought he could. I flagged a passing taxi, and then with one glance back at my moment out of time, my love at first, or maybe second, sight, I climbed in after Jude. When he said, “Hey don’t look so glum. You old people need to learn to go with the flow,” I swatted the little jerk with the back of my hand.

A few hours later, I shoved my carry-on into the overhead bin and took my seat in coach, cursing fate. And time. And Jude up in first class.

Mostly myself.

The words on my arm mocked me. I had misspelled regrets all right. Had it been stupider to take the risk of opening my heart to an anomaly, a tear in time, a grief I could see coming a mile away? Or would it have been worse to sidestep the entire mini-affair to protect my emotions? It was the age-old question: Love lost or nothing at all?

I shook my head at my delusion. You can’t fall in love in twenty-four hours. You just can’t. Enzo had cast a spell on me, that was all. I’d desperately needed that connection, but now I felt like a damn fool, and my heart ached.

I’d never before believed love could strike like lightning. It was dumb to start now.

I closed my eyes, lost in self-pity.

Yesterday, I thought I’d known darkness, but today I held the dust from a star that had burned bright for a moment.

It hurt.

From across the aisle, a woman asked, “Wasn’t that Jude Delmonico? My granddaughter’s a huge fan.”

I exhaled, not wanting to think about the reason I was on that plane. If I cared one iota less about getting Jude home, about keeping my job, I’d walk off, take the risk, and run back to that little studio in Montmartre. The limitations that tethered me were both infinite and insignificant.

There was still time. I could make a break for it. Follow my heart instead of my head.

I got as far as unbuckling my seatbelt when the chatter of the passengers rose in that special way that meant Jude had breached the coach cabin, probably coming back to borrow headphones he’d lost, completely oblivious to the mayhem he’d leave in his wake. He hadn’t learned a thing from the night before. I twisted toward the window, hoping he wouldn’t notice me. But the seat beside me rocked, and I sighed.

“Is anyone sitting here?” a man asked. Not Jude. A Frenchman with a voice so impossibly like Enzo’s, I thought for a heartbeat the universe was fucking with me. “I bought a first-class ticket, so I’m hoping they don’t mind if I move back here.”

Not a voice like Enzo’s. Enzo’s. I swung around to face him. “What are you doing here?”

“I promised I’d get us more time, and what’s a better excuse to sit and talk for hours than a long plane ride.”

A forehead and a pair of eyes peered over the seat in front of us, and the couple across the aisle gawked at Laurent Gilbert sitting in coach with them.

I ignored them. “I don’t understand. Why are you here?”

“Do you want me to leave?” He started to stand, and my mind caught up as my hand landed on his.

“Stay. I want you to stay. But what are you doing here?”

“After my many failed attempts to get you to stay in Paris, I contacted your agency and suggested I might perform with Jude tonight, help launch the song.”

That gave us an eight-hour flight before we’d have to part ways. Again. “So you’ll be traveling with Jude?”

“For now, but if the single takes off like we hope, I’ll want to release some more English-language songs, you know. I’ll need U.S. management.”

My jaw dropped. They couldn’t fire me if I landed motherfucking Laurent Gilbert as a client. “No way.”

“And I requested you travel with me.”

That meant … We’d have time. “They agreed?”

“Only if it’s what you want.” He’d taken a gamble and still left the final decision to me.

“Yes. Of course, it’s what I want.”

“That’s a relief. I took a chance that this—” he pointed from me to him “—is, how did you say, nothing to sneeze?”

Okay, I laughed out loud at that. “What were you going to do if I’d gotten off this plane to come find you?”

He poked my nose. “That would not have happened.”

“Why not?”

“You don’t take risks. Lucky for us, I do.”

I leaned forward and kissed him, really kissed him, the rubberneckers be damned.

He’d done it. He’d found us time to explore our relationship and discover where it might lead. Somehow, he’d quashed my doubts and given me hope for a tomorrow without regrets.

And holy shit. I could kiss him, devour him, without a time limit—after we landed and found a room of course.

Suddenly, eight-hours seemed too long. “I cannot wait to get off this plane.”

He whispered something in French, and I sighed. “I am definitely going to buy Rosetta Stone so I can find out what you’re whispering to me.”

“I’m whispering that I cannot wait to get to know you, Annie Keaton.”

If you enjoyed this story, you might enjoy the first in her Flirting with Fame rock star romance series: Some Kind of Magic.

About the Author

Mary Ann Marlowe lives in central Virginia where she works as a computer programmer. She spent ten years as a university-level French professor, and her resume includes stints as an au pair in Calais, a hotel intern in Paris, a German tutor, a college radio disc jockey, and a webmaster for several online musician fandoms. She has lived in twelve states and three countries and loves to travel. She also writes as Lorelei Parker.

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JUSTIFIED

MAX HENRY

ONE

LOTTIE

I’VE NEVER FELT MORE aware of my body. Every tiny twitch, each little ache, they’re all amplified as I stare across the booth at the woman who gave me life. Who refuses to now help me save that vision of what she encouraged me to be.

“You can dress this up any way you like, Charlotte, but the truth remains: you put yourself in this position.”

Charlotte. She only refers to me by my proper name when she feels the need to make her anger clear.

“I took all the reasonable steps to avoid being in this position,” I argue. “This was not what I expected to happen.”

Her pale lips thin, and she turns her head away to glance across the crowded café at the other patrons as though to gauge who overhears—how deep her shame should run. “You’re a bright girl.” The venom in her words strikes a chill in my spine. “You took anatomy classes. You know what happens when you lie wanton for some boy.”

“Man.” I correct her. “I stopped being your little girl years ago, Mom, and the guys I date stopped being boys.”

“Then where is he?” she hisses, leaning into the table between us. “Why aren’t you asking the unreasonable of him?”

“It’s not unreasonable.” I swallow hard, an attempt to force my emotions back to the pit of my stomach. “And I have asked him. His response was much like yours,” I say with a roll of my eyes.

I’d pegged Chase early on as the kind of guy you didn’t imagine forever with. It wasn’t until this unforeseen problem arose that I realized how right I was.

“I don’t ask the world of you, Mom. Only a loan, so that I can travel before it’s too late.”

“Before it’s too late.” She mimics my words with a huff. “It’s already too late, Charlotte. Now is the time where you face the consequences of your actions, and do the selfless thing that is seeing this through.”

I slump against the booth seat, hands slung in my lap. She makes it sound as though I whored myself out with the sole intent of becoming pregnant. Chose to lie naked in the town square with a sign that read “50c a ride”.

“You don’t think this is a hard decision for me?” I whisper the truth between us. “That I haven’t agonized over this since I found out?”

“I wouldn’t have used a word as strong as agonized,” she snipes. “But regardless, isn’t your heartache evidence enough you’re making the wrong decision?” She lifts the coffee pot with the effortless grace I once admired in her.

Now, all I see is a robust woman so stuck in her ways that she can’t entertain the idea of hearing another person’s viewpoint, let alone try to understand it.

“I have to weigh the pros and cons,” I explain. “Take into consideration how this would change my life. What kind of life that would be for a child.”

I can sympathize with her and understand her beliefs. But Mom’s not the one who faces a future disadvantaged by best-laid plans being forced awry.

I started my degree with a purpose, despite warnings the course load was demanding and required the utmost dedication of time and energy. It didn’t matter to me, because I knew at a young age what I wanted to be when I grew up, and I spent the rest of my school years planning how I’d get there.

Having a child was never in that plan.

At least, not for another eight to ten years.

“Do you hear how selfish you sound?” Mom asks, dropping a sugar cube into her drink. “You deny a life because it doesn’t fit in with yours.”

“I’m being far from selfish,” I hiss in return. “I’ve accepted that granting this life would welcome it into one where nothing is promised. How am I supposed to house and feed a child when I live on campus? When I study day and night? When I can’t work? You know the current cost of living. I’m not in a position to support another person. How would that be fair, Mom?”

“You find a way.” She hesitates to take a sip from her mug. “You work as many shifts as you have to.”

“My tuition schedule doesn’t allow time to work one job, let alone two.”

“Then you ask your roommates to help and work at night while the baby sleeps.”

“They have an education of their own to worry about without me disrupting their sleep, you know.”

Her gaze hardens. “They may be more accommodating than you give them credit for.”

I shake my head and stare out the window. “I can’t believe you’d suggest I left a baby with strangers over its own grandparents.”

“You know our position on this.”

“That you disown me either way.” I scoff. “You care about what’s inside of me until it becomes your problem, too. Some fucking Samaritan you are.”

“Charlotte Anne,” Mom scolds.

My pulse rings loud in my ears, heat flaring in the clasped palms of my hands. “Truth hurts, doesn’t it?” It sure has for me the past three weeks. “Did you honestly believe I’d stay celibate until I married?”

“We’d hoped.”

I snag the paper napkin beside my plate. “You’d punish me for an honest mistake?”

“You’d punish a helpless child for the same?”

Paper screwed in my fist, I lean across the table, words gritted between my teeth. “It’s not a child yet.”

Her eyes widen.

“Rip it out of me, Mom. See if it lives.” I relax back into my seat, tips of my ears burning red hot. “I’m sorry. That was out of line.” My hands shake with rage, the frustration at trying to get her to see this from my point of view ripping the filter from my words.

My statement was harsh—I know—but the goddamn situation is equally so.

“Did you hear yourself just now?” she whispers.

“Loud and clear.”

“You sound like a murderer.”

I snap my gaze to hers. “Really?”

She lifts her eyebrows, coffee cup poised before her lips. “Truth hurts, doesn’t it?”

Ooo, this woman. “I’m your daughter,” I state, yearning for her to treat me so.

“And imagine how sad it would have been had I held the same opinion toward you when I fell pregnant.”

“I was planned.”

“Were you?” She lifts an eyebrow. “Are you certain about that?”

“Tell me, then,” I challenge. “What considerations did you have to take when you had me? What stage were you at with your education, your career?”

She lifts the spoon and drops it into her half-drank cup, idly swirling what’s left.

I have her there, and she knows it. The difference between me and my mother is she didn’t aspire for a career beyond motherhood. Content to support my father, she chose to stay at home and raise a healthy brood of five children. I don’t think any lesser of her for it, but I also know she couldn’t possibly understand the position I find myself in.

“I’ve thought this over, Mom. So many times.” I set the crumpled napkin back on the table, my gaze fixed on the wrinkled edges. “I’ve imagined a life with and one without. When it came down to it, I had to pick the path that saddened me the least.”

“You’d find having a child so abhorrent?” She seems genuinely perplexed, rather than derisive.

“Not abhorrent. Hard.” My nail clicks as I pick at the cuticle of my thumb over and over. “I want children, Mom. Just not right now. And not with a guy who’d walk away from the responsibility.”

“Then why date him?” she asks. “Why lie with the man if he had no intention of keeping you honest?”

“Because this isn’t 1955,” I snap. “Women are allowed to explore their sexuality without fear of shame.” I huff out my nose. “At least, I thought they could.”

“That’s what Mills and Boons were for in my younger years.” She smiles a little as though the memory amuses her. “There are safer ways to feel titillated than sleeping around, Lottie.”

Again, with the whorish references. “We dated. Spent time together before it became sexual.” I shake my head. “It’s not as though I went out every night with the express purpose to fuck a stranger.”

“Language.” Mom glances around the café again before settling on my fidgeting hands. “Whatever your justification, your father and I cannot morally stand by and allow this to happen without speaking our piece. We certainly cannot aid in the termination of a life, either.”

“It’s only money, Mom.” I push what remains of my cake aside. “Would you prefer I asked for a loan to get an apartment and lied to you? I honestly thought you’d respect my choice to be truthful.”

“I do. But that doesn’t change my mind.” She collects her purse from beside her and then sets enough bills on the table to cover the food and the tip. “I hope one day you see what I do is done out of love.”

“I wish you could see my choice comes from the same place.”

She rises, hands before her while she regards me. “I’m sorry, Charlotte, but this is one lesson you’ll have to learn the hard way.”

TWO

CALLUM

THE OLDER LADY in the long, pleated skirt leaves the café, but I’m fixated on the redhead she left at the table. The woman stays staring stoically at the empty cup before her, hands loosely folded in her lap.

I shouldn’t have eavesdropped on their conversation, but it was kind of hard to ignore the keywords when their voices rose with thinly veiled rage.

“I need you to shoot down the street and grab some candy.” I shove a couple of bills at the prospect across the table. “King’s kids are coming in later, and the little fuckers always empty the jar.”

“Yeah. Sure.” He rises and pockets the money. “Any preference?”

“You pick. They ain’t fussy.” I nod toward the street. “I’ll meet you at the bikes.”

He takes his leave, and I stay seated until the kid’s out of view. I like him, and he’ll make a good member one day, but he’s still young. Hence the sit down over coffee to double-check this is truly what he wants.

I love the club. Live and breathe the life. But even I can see the dedication it takes is a toll too much for some.

The pretty redhead gathers her coat when I return my focus to her, black-tipped fingernails clutched around a tattered purse. I rise from the table angled behind her and block her exit before she has a chance to stand.

“You mind if I join you for a moment?” I gesture to the seat her mom previously occupied.

She tilts her head back, a frown pulling the skin taut between startling, crisp, blue eyes. “Do I know you?”

“Not yet.” I take the seat anyway. “The name’s Callum.” I extend a hand across the table in hope.

She studies the tattoos across the back of my hand for a beat before tentatively placing her hand in mine. “Lottie.”

“Pleasure to meet you.”

She regards my smile with wary unease, her coat protectively clutched over her stomach. The woman is an unconventional beauty, but I’ve always loved the outliers. Her thick, red hair is pulled half back with a clip, the rest left to flow over her shoulders. Piercings line her ears, but I note she’s resisted the urge to place one anywhere it couldn’t be hidden in conservative company. Her choice of clothing, though, speaks volumes. Bright, girly colors printed over charcoal cotton. Her black jeans and printed T-shirt suggest she’d like people to leave her alone, but the rainbow of effects in the childlike image suggests she has a playful side. One she reserves for those closest to her.

“I have to start with an apology,” I say with a quick tip of my lips. “I overheard your conversation with your mom.”

She looks toward the window, jaw firm.

“I thought about walking away and respecting your privacy—”

“But why start now, when you already violated it?” she snaps.

Expected. “Look, I don’t know your story—”

“You’re right.” Her volatile gaze finds mine. “You don’t.”

Her pattern of cutting me off seriously grates already. “But I’d like to,” I say with no shortage of sass. “If you’d let me finish, I wanted to ask if you had time to take a walk.”

“With you?” Her eyes widen. “I’m sorry—Callum, wasn’t it? You introduced yourself to me, sure, but you’re still a total stranger.” Her jaw steels, focus sliding back out the window. “I find it a little hard to trust people right now.”

“I get that.” Which is why I came prepared with a backup plan.

She peeks at my movements as I lean forward and reach into my back pocket for my wallet. I slap the billfold on the table, then open it to retrieve my driver’s license.

I slide the info across the table toward her, and then lean back in my seat. “Take it. This way you know who I am, and how to find me.”

Her lips curl on one side, lithe fingers slipping the card into her possession. “Nice gesture, but it hardly stops you from murdering me and taking it back before you leave.”

I’ve got nothing. Blinking slowly, I turn my head to one side and lick my lips.

“What’s your number?”

I snap my head around and frown. “Huh?”

She nods toward my side of the table. “If I message you, authorities can track that.”

“You’re fully convinced I plan to dump your body in the backwoods, ain’t you?”

Her cocked eyebrow displays confidence. “You’re yet to prove you wouldn’t.”

I cede with a huff and slide a hand into my cut to retrieve my phone. “It’s the leather, ain’t it?” She stays silent while I open the device and navigate to my contacts. “Always puts people off.”

“Or perhaps it’s the circumstances in which you decide to enter my life,” she teases. “Most men with good intentions don’t piggyback on the back of a conversation around abortion.”

I smirk and shove the open device her way. “Well, I ain’t most men.”

“That’s becoming increasingly clear.” She ducks her head to tap out her details, the chime of her phone following shortly after.

“Guess this means you’re taking me up on the offer?” I accept my phone when she slides it back, glancing down at the sent message. “I’m not sure who’s more at danger here.”

She smiles. “Most definitely you.”

THREE

LOTTIE

“SO, how is it a woman as smart as you ends up in such a predicament?” Callum holds the café door open, sunlight glinting off the metal clasps that pinch his vest together.

“Are you suggesting I’d have to be stupid to fall pregnant?”

He visibly chokes on his words. “No.”

I relish his vulnerability—this big, broad biker.

He’s what dreams are made of. The kinds that quickly slip into nightmares. With kind eyes and an infectious smile, I can see why people—specifically women—would have a hard time saying no to the man. But if I’ve learned anything over the past year it’s looks can be deceiving.

A tidy, late-model car and well-kempt appearance mean fuck all when it comes to the morals of the person.

“Relax,” I say with a slight laugh. “I’m fucking with you.”

“The lady cusses,” he teases with a lifted eyebrow. “What other secrets does she have?”

“Well,” I deadpan. “You know the biggest one.”

He gestures for me to go first, falling into step beside me as I head toward my car.

I peek up at the guy in my periphery, at his easy gait and confident strides. “What is it you’d like to know?”

“Whatever you feel comfortable telling me.” He glances down with a kind smile. “Just figured you could use a neutral ear to work things out.”

“Who said I haven’t figured them out already?” I knew it: he’s another jerk who wants to press his opinion on me.

“Your torn expression when your mom left. It was as though she made you doubt yourself.” He swings toward a shopfront, holding a hand up as he does. “Wait there.”

I have half a mind to leave as I watch him dart inside the store. Why the heck I decided this was a good idea, taking a walk with an absolute stranger after having my mother tear me a new one, I don’t know. Maybe he has truth in his words though? I haven’t spoken to anyone neutral since finding out there’s a legitimate reason for my missed cycle. I spoke to Chase first, and then Mom, laser-focused on finding a solution to the predicament before I allowed myself time to process the myriad of emotions that keep me up at night.

Besides, what are the chances I meet this guy again?

“I hope vanilla choc-chip is okay?” He holds out a cone for me to take. “Didn’t know what you’re allowed to have and all.”

“It’s fine.” I seal my lips over the edge preventing any from dropping.

He stays frozen with his ice cream in hand, watching me eat.

Awkward. “I had an IUD,” I explain and start walking. “You know what that is, right?”

He chuckles. “Only one I know of is the kind you send the bomb squad in for.”

I smile. “Intrauterine Device.”

He hesitates, midlick of his ice cream, and then grimaces. “Sounds painful.”

“Not too bad.” I shrug. “Anyway, they have a minimal rate of failure. Like less than one percent.” I shake my head and then smile at him before saying, “Guess who was the anomaly.”

“Shit.” He takes a few more bites of his ice cream, and I find myself fixated on the way his full lips move across the surface. “The father doesn’t want to know?”

“Not at all.” I snap out of my lust-driven haze. Goddamn hormones. “He said it was up to me to make sure it didn’t happen, and if it has, then that’s my problem.”

“Sounds like he needs a fucking fact check.”

The growl in his tone elicits a strange reaction within me. Ice cream, Lottie. I lick the motherfucker as though my life depends on it.

“If he had supported you,” Callum says. “Do you think it would have influenced your decision?”

I study him while we wait to cross a side street. Does he want to criticize my choice? Or is he genuinely curious? It’s hard to tell with such well-practiced indifference written across his face.

“To be honest? I don’t think so.” I devour more of the melting confection before I continue. “As much as he would have been a support person for me, the lion’s share would have still been mine, you know? I would be the one up in the night, changing nappies, feeding, and all that. Not him.”

“And it’s your body which changes, too,” he points out. “Not his.”

The loud crunch of his cone stops me from saying anything in return. But with one statement, he showed I found someone who gets it. Who understands.

“Do you know someone who’s done this?” I ask. “Like…” I gesture to my stomach, over voicing the word for today.

“My sister.” He demolishes what’s left of the cone, then dusts his hands off. “She struggled with it, too.”

“And does she…?”

“Regret it?” He pins me with a sincere look. “Yes and no.”

I frown.

He gestures to a park bench and waits until I’m seated before continuing. “She’s always going to wonder what they would have been like—the kid. But she had two already and adding another unplanned child into the mix would have pushed them further over the poverty line. She made her decision based on what was best for the kids she did have, and that’s why I remind her she’s still a good mom. She did the best for her whole family.”

“Wow.” My stomach sours, yet I push through the last bite of ice cream before ditching the cone in a nearby trash can. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t finish it.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” Callum stretches an arm across the back of the bench, one ankle crossed over his knee.

It’s an intimate position and one I would normally shy away from, yet I’m perfectly comfortable sitting with his arm brushing against the back of my shoulders. It’s an indirect way of comforting me. I don’t know if that’s what he intends, but it’s sure how I feel.

“What are you thinking now?” he gently asks.

“That my situation doesn’t compare to hers.”

“How?”

“Mom said I’m selfish, right?”

He nods.

“What if she’s right? What if I’m supposed to do double shifts at a diner to make ends meet and forget about my degree?” My damn nail clicks on my cuticle again.

“That’s her opinion, though. Not yours.”

“Maybe it’s a valid one.” I search his gaze and find nothing but honesty. “Am I selfish for wanting to do this differently?”

“Only you can answer that.” His arm flexes, the muscles rolling as he moves it on the back of the bench.

A gentle tug makes me realize what he does—he toys with my hair. And I don’t mind one bit.

“You got to ask yourself if you’d feel guilty for bringing a kid into the world knowing you’d both struggle when you had the opportunity to make it better or worse for waiting until you can provide a full and advantaged life.” His fingers still. “I can understand why you’d want to wait. I grew up without most things, and if I had the choice knowing that meant my kids wouldn’t go without, then I would wait too.”

“Even if that meant sacrificing the child you already have?”

“You don’t have it, Lottie.” He brings his far hand forward as though to touch my stomach, but recoils. “You said it in your own words: what you have inside there right now, doesn’t have the ability to survive. It’s a thought, a possibility.”

“Then why do I feel like such a bad person?”

“Because society tells you this is how you should feel.” His jaw flexes, muscle twitching over the sharp angles. “Stop listening to other people. Stop allowing fuckers who ain’t in your shoes to do the talking for you.”

I regard him for a while—his unkempt, blond hair mussed up and tickling the shell of his ear, his strong profile, and significant smile lines. He seems like an easy-going person. A lover of life. Not one to willingly get involved in such a deep and sometimes destructive conversation. “You know, I didn’t think that was what you’d say.”

Callum slowly turns his head, rolling it to rest his cheek on his shoulder. “Yeah? What did you pick me for?”

“I thought you’d bully me into doing what you want.” I lift one side of my mouth. “What my mother wants.”

“Now, why would I do that?”

“Because isn’t coercion the only reason why people get involved in this discussion? To sway the others’ opinion?”

“Nah, red. Sometimes we simply want to make you feel less alone.”

FOUR

CALLUM

HER EYES WIDEN the slightest fucking bit, then the flare of her nostrils signals what comes next. Tears well in her eyes and, to her credit, she tries her damndest to hold them back. But the torrent wins over, and the pesky fuckers track her blushed cheeks.

“I’m sorry.” Lottie looks away, the back of one hand to her nose. “I guess this has been harder than I thought.”

“Hey.” I lift my fingers from her hair and gently set them to the back of her neck, applying the barest pressure to the hinge of her jaw. “Look at me.” She allows me to guide her head around. “You have no reason to feel ashamed.”

“I don’t.” Her smile falters.

“Then why are you hidin’ your face?”

Those amazing, blue eyes of hers dart back and forth, seeming to read whatever the fuck I have written across my features. I’d hope she sees my sincerity, but I’ve been told a time or two that I often have the male equivalent of resting bitch face when I’m serious.

“What are you thinking?” I can’t explain the burn to know, but the idea I might have disappointed her or insulted her, aches.

She was a sad woman in a diner who needed a little cheering up. That was all. But I’m thinking she could have been right when she said I was the one in trouble.

“Why do this for a stranger?” she whispers.

My fingers flex against the side of her throat. She doesn’t seem the slightest bit worried. “Because I don’t like seeing people sad.”

“Do you stop and take all the sad people you see for a walk?”

I match her wry smile. “I’m sure you know the answer to that.”

“So, why me?”

“Why not?” What was supposed to be a serious, yet light-hearted conversation has taken a dangerous turn into questionable territory. “Does it bother you, what I’m doing right now?”

I hold my breath and wait on her answer.

“Not at all.” She hasn’t broken eye contact, barely blinked.

I wet my lips and twist my hips ever so slightly toward her. “You wouldn’t mind if I kissed you, then?”

A huff slips out her cute button nose. “I’m broken goods, Callum.”

“We’re all broken, baby.”

She twitches a half smile, the peek of a dimple on her cheek, and then she removes any doubt from my mind that what I’m doing here is wrong. That I take advantage of her. How can I when it’s her lips that find mine with tentative strokes, questioning, pleading?

I return the kiss, holding her to me by the grip I still have on her neck. I don’t push it too far, simply enjoy the vanilla taste on her tongue as she teases mine.

Lottie lets out the smallest moan—satisfaction caught on her exhale—and then breaks free to press her forehead to mine. “I’m sorry.” She huffs a hesitant laugh. “You must think I’m crazy.”

I refuse to let her pull away, to hide and lose herself in the shame that has no place occupying this moment. “I think perhaps you needed that,” I say. “Somebody who wasn’t afraid to show you that you matter.”

She rolls her head and weaves out of my hold, shoulders square against the seat as she stares across the road. “You can’t be for real.”

The pink haze of what just went down vanishes with a pop. “Pardon?”

“I mean—” She fidgets with a worn patch on her jeans. “—you say all the right things. Act as though you care.”

“This ain’t an act.” I match her position, except I have my arms folded high on my chest. The only way that I can be sure I won’t shake some fucking sense into her. “Everything I said is genuine.”

“I didn’t mean to insinuate it wasn’t,” she backtracks, still unable to look me in the eye. “I guess… I don’t know. I’m skeptical.”

“I get that, darl’. But you ask anyone who knows me, and they’ll let you know I’m one of the most straightforward people you can meet.”

“That’s the problem, though.” She finally looks my way, apology in her soft smile. “I don’t know anyone who knows you.”

I shrug. “Everybody you know was once a stranger.”

“Sure. But I don’t go around kissing all the strangers to make them someone I know.”

I smirk. “Maybe you should.”

Her eyes narrow, and her smile grows. “Stop it.” The back of her hand collects my upper arm.

At least I made her laugh.

“Tell you what.” I shift to the front of the bench and prepare to leave. “You keep that license of mine I saw you pocket, and you come see me when you’re ready to get to know each other a little better.”

Her eyes grow wide. “I can’t do that.” She reaches for the damn thing. “What if you get pulled up by the cops?”

I rest my hand over hers. “Riding with no license would be the least of my worries.”

Lottie’s brow falls, eyes hardening. “You.” Her smile fights to be free. “You promise to be trouble, don’t you?”

“Only the best kind.”

FIVE

LOTTIE

CALLUM STANDS, his towering frame blocking the afternoon sun. I’m dwarfed by his shadow, yet his imposing size comforts me as well.

“I need to get on.” He thumbs over his shoulder. “But I meant every word I said to you, girl. The decision is yours, and yours alone. Don’t you let anyone tell you what’s best for you and your kind.”

I gather my coat and rise. “I’m not the best with heartfelt words,” I admit. “But I want you to know how much this conversation meant.” I swallow and look toward the ground.

Firm fingers find my chin, and he tilts my face up to his. “You’re doing the world a disservice hidin’ that pretty face of yours.”

One foot slides forward, and I move closer to him before I get a moment to consider what the hell I’m doing. “You really are a charmer.”

“Only for girls like you.”

Heat surges through me, a quiver snaking its way up my spine. “What sort of girl am I, Callum?”

The growl that resonates in his throat has me seriously considering my sanity. “The sort I find myself needing to kiss again.” He holds steady, breath whispering across my lips as though he waits for me to make the decision.

Such a tiny gesture, and yet one that has visions of me climbing this man like a tree flashing through my mind. “Then what are you waiting for?”

I allow him to set the pace, to control our connection, fighting to keep my hands in places appropriate for public. He devours my hunger, setting me on fire as my palms find the hard planes of his chest, hidden beneath the cotton of his shirt and shielded by leather. I snake my fingertips beneath the vest, finding his ribs, thumbs stroking the ridges of muscle.

This time the growl resonates through me, too.

“Woman…” Callum breaks the connection, palms on either side of my face. “You’re testing my reputation as a gentleman and a scholar.”

I can’t help myself—I laugh. The feeling blooms, my joy echoed when Callum joins in until our laughter dies down to a couple of goofy grins.

“You’re amazing. You know that?”

He grins, lopsided and unsure.

“I mean it.” I take a step back and nod toward the road. “As much as I could do this all day, you need to go. Plus, I’ll earn you a reputation if you’re seen with me.” My hands rest atop my small belly.

A frown mars his handsome face, and he shakes his head. “Don’t do that.”

“It was only a joke.”

“I know. But it comes from a darker place, Lottie. One where you don’t belong.” He carefully strokes my cheek with the palm of his hand. “Let me know when you’ve made your decision.”

“About the pregnancy?” I frown.

He nods and captures his bottom lip between his teeth. “And us.”

I hug myself, unsure who placed this big biker into my path today or why, but I’m glad they did. “There isn’t an us, Callum.”

“You sure about that?”

The pest doesn’t give me a chance to answer, turning his back on me and striding through a break in traffic to where two bikes are parked against the curb, one with a young guy waiting. My feet shuffle backward, and I drop to the park bench again, breathless and more than a little flustered.

I came out today with the knowledge meeting Mom would be hard. I barely slept the last two nights knowing this day would arrive, and with a few simple words and the kindness of a stranger, I’m… lighter.

Heard.

Everybody you know was once a stranger. His words echo in my ears as I watch Callum straddle the black machine, and then bring it to life with a roar. He lifts his head and faces my way—but doubt has me believe it to be nothing more than a coincidence.

Until my phone chimes with an incoming message.

See you when you’re ready, beautiful.

I lift my head, a smile toying at my lips, just in time to see the two men pull into the road and rumble into the distance.

Maybe today wasn’t so bad after all.

About the Author

Born and raised in Canterbury, New Zealand, Max now resides with her family in beautiful and sunny Queensland, Australia.

Life with two young children can be hectic at times and, although she may not write as often as she would like, Max wouldn’t change a thing.

An avid lover of stories from a young age, she enjoys nothing more than to get lost in the pages while the characters dictate what direction she takes. Her favourite genre to write is young/new adult and the events in her stories may or may not be related to real life experiences (only she will ever know for sure).

Find all Max’s social/store links here:

https://linktr.ee/MaxHenry

Check out a full up-to-date list of Max’s titles at:

www.maxhenryauthor.com/the-books

LAST CALL

MEGAN RYDER

CHAPTER ONE

“I’M LOOKING FOR MY FIANCÉE.”

The words echoed in the bar, hanging heavy in the sweltering heat of the late Saturday afternoon. The few regulars in The Salty Dog swiveled their heads and stared at the woman behind the bar, sensing gossip like sharks scenting blood in the water. Lacey LeBeau stared at the man standing in the doorway, the sun shining around him, blinding her. But that voice. She hadn’t heard it in over a decade, but late at night that dark rasp still echoed in her dreams. Zachary Channing.

“You’ve been M.I.A. for ten years. I kind of figured I was a free agent,” she replied coolly, trying to calm her racing heart, her hands wringing the towel she’d been using to dry glasses.

“You’re breaking my heart, darling,” he drawled and stepped further into the bar.

The boy she once pretended to be engaged to had matured into a dark and sexy man, possibly even more lethal to her than he was at eighteen. In moments of weakness, she had kept tabs on him via social media. His trips overseas, his photos in various magazine spreads, his dating history. Pictures didn’t prepare her for the sheer physical presence of the man, the raw masculinity he hadn’t exhibited the last summer he had been in Swan’s Creek. While he’d been just out of college, he’d still been a boy compared to the virile man prowling into her dive bar in coastal Maine. Though, as he came closer, she noted a stiffness to his gait, a limp, that belied the strength in the rest of him.

She cocked her hip and leaned against the bar, conscious of all the eyes on them. “Highly unlikely. You’re just someone I used to date.”

His eyebrow quirked, and a smirk crossed his face. “I’m touched. Don’t get so mushy, Lacey.”

“Now we know why she wouldn’t date me,” Cy Miller, a local lobsterman, leaned over to his buddies and spoke just loud enough for Lacey to hear.

Without sparing him a glance, Lacey snorted. “Trust me, Cy. That wasn’t the reason.” The bar cracked up with laughter and Cy grimaced but shrugged it off. Lacey refocused on Zach. “Besides, we were never really married. A fake engagement to keep bar flies at bay. Nothing more.”

Zach slid onto a bar stool, his left leg stretched out to the side. His voice lowered to a husky drawl. “If I recall, it wasn’t all fake.”

Her face burned, and she slung the towel over her shoulder. “Can I get you something?”

“A beer and a glass of water. Whatever you have on tap.”

She poured a draft of Seadog and set it front of him, a glass of water following a few minutes later. The rest of the customers turned back into their conversations or the ballgame, leaving her and Zach in their own bubble. She leaned over the counter and studied him, seeing the way his lips pressed together tightly, the fine lines of strain around his eyes, and the way he held himself stiffly. He shook out a couple of pills from his pocket and took them with his water, washing it down with the beer.

“Everything okay, Zach?”

He glanced at her. “Yeah, just a long drive. I’m a little stiff, that’s all.”

She sensed there was something else but she let it go. “What brings you to our little corner of the world? I would have thought we’re a little too small for the great world traveler now.”

He narrowed his gaze at her. “Don’t do that, Lacey. Don’t put yourself or Swan’s Creek down. I never once did that. Just because I wanted to see the world didn’t mean Swan’s Creek was lesser. I came to see Uncle Andy. I expected him to be here.”

Involuntarily, they both glanced at the stool at the far end of the bar, the stool Andy always sat when he wasn’t working. But it had been years since he’d worked the counter. Occasionally, he spent time in the office checking on the accounts and receipts. He left almost all of that to Lacey now and she reported to him weekly with their status. But the bar was unmistakably still his, since he wouldn’t allow a single change.

“He doesn’t come in as often as he used to. I manage the place now.” A hint of pride threaded her voice, and she didn’t bother to hide it. She loved The Salty Dog, had been working there since she turned twenty-one.

Zach scanned the place, a neutral expression on his face. “I see nothing has changed.”

While he hadn’t meant anything by his words, they stung, but she settled for being noncommittal. “You know Andy. He doesn’t like change. You’re here for a visit?”

She placed a subtle emphasis on the last word, a sly innuendo since he hadn’t been back for years. There had been a time when he had spent every summer there and professed to want to live there. But then he grew up and found new dreams, away from Swan’s Creek and Lacey.

He heard the underlying snark because he winced. “I’m taking a vacation and thought I’d check on Andy. It’s been a while and wanted to see how he was doing.”

She straightened. “You should have been here a few months ago when he had his heart attack, when he needed you. Don’t worry. People in Swan’s Creek look after each other. Excuse me. I have customers to look after.”

And she stalked away before she really let him have it.

THAT COULD HAVE GONE BETTER, not that he had any right to expect anything else.

Zach Channing took in the bar scene in a glance. Lacey was pouring drinks behind the bar, joking with her customers, a towel slung over her shoulder, avoiding him like he carried the plague. She wore a sleek black tank top that shimmered and seemed to move with the light, and a pair of well-worn, fitted jeans that molded to her body’s curves. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail and he remembered the feel of it draped across his body. She had always been the sexiest woman he had ever known and, after years of traveling all over the world and dating several women, and she still was. And she still didn’t take any bullshit from him or anyone else.

Nothing had changed in the ten years since he had been in Swan’s Creek. It had taken his eyes a few minutes to adjust to the dim lighting, but even then, The Salty Dog had seen better days. He’d bet the initials he and Bas LeBeau had carved into the back booth were still there, along with the other graffiti that criss-crossed the old dark wood in the bar going back to his uncle’s youth. The tables that were scattered around the bar appeared to be the same ones from his childhood, the same ones he used to stack at the end of the night. The pool tables seemed to have fared better, with the green felt not as worn, and the televisions that showed the patrons’ precious Red Sox were bigger than he remembered. But the open windows did little for the heat inside. The old ceiling fan creaked weakly and a few floor fans stirred the dead air around, but did little to cool it.

He rubbed his aching left leg. Five hours in the car was not what his recently healed broken leg needed. And right now, he was fucking jealous of the other men in the bar monopolizing Lacey’s attention, even if he knew she wasn’t interested in them. But he hated that she had brushed him off.

“How have you been, Lacey?”

She forced her attention back onto him, her gaze scornful. “Just fine, Zachary, as you would know if you had bothered to stop by once in the past ten years.”

Her low, husky voice shot straight to his groin, reminding him of the last time he had had sex, which was far too long for comfort. After his injury, he’d spent a few weeks recuperating in a small hospital near Kilimanjaro, then he’d been holed up in his apartment in Boston, trying to regain full function. Dating had been the last thing on his mind, and had been for months before Kili, to be honest.

He sipped his beer. “I’ve been a little busy building a career.” One that was over now.

She snorted. “I never expected to see you again.”

“I never expected to be here.” He swiveled on the stool and glanced around the bar.

There was one thing missing, a fixture he expected to be settled in his usual spot. Zach sipped his beer. Uncle Andy used to spend all of his time at the bar. Once his wife died, the bar had become his second home, with all of his friends here. If he wasn’t coming in, maybe things weren’t as good as Uncle Andy told them. Well, that was why he was there, wasn’t it? Recuperate and assess the situation.

He’d have to tread carefully with Lacey, though. She was like a momma bear with people she considered family. “I had some time between assignments, and I thought I would come on up to Maine, visit Andy, recuperate.”

“Took you long enough.” She wasn’t going to let it go.

Guilt reared its ugly head, but he faced her. “I was recovering from a broken leg for a few weeks near Kilimanjaro. I didn’t even hear about the heart attack until I got back to the States and then I was in no condition to come up.”

Her expression softened as she glanced at the left leg stretched out. “What happened?”

He flinched, not ready to share. “Long story. Suffice it to say, I shattered my tibia. Needed a rod and screws. Couple of surgeries.”

She looked horrified. “You almost died?”

He shrugged. “It was pretty serious, with internal bleeding and possible infection. If I hadn’t gotten treatment quickly, maybe. I was hiking with a Doctors Without Borders med student who knew what he was doing. But I wasn’t able to get here before now. I feel terrible about Uncle Andy going through this alone.”

She studied him for a long moment. “He wasn’t alone. He had us.”

“I know. But it’s not the same as family.”

Lacey narrowed her gaze. She set the glass and towel down on the counter. She braced herself on two hands and leaned forward. “Why are you really here? Don’t bullshit me.”

He finished his beer and stood, taking out his wallet to throw some money on the bar. “I’m here to take Uncle Andy back to Boston, where he belongs.”

CHAPTER TWO

LACEY SKIPPED out on Sunday dinner with the family. She half-expected a phone call or a visit from one of her aunts all day, since she rarely missed family dinners. Since Andy always went to dinner and Zach was staying with him, it was a safe bet they’d both be there. She took the cowardly route and worked at the bar. Tonight was her weekly dinner and sales update with Andy.

She’d convinced herself that Zach wouldn’t be hanging around with his great-uncle and would have found something more exciting to do, so she was surprised when she got to the front door and Zach stood there, shirtless and in khaki board shorts looking entirely too good for her libido. By the look of shock on his face, Andy hadn’t warned him that Lacey was coming, either.

She debated fleeing, but she’d never run from anything before, not even when her cousin Mike had dared her to jump off the tire swing into the swimming hole when she was six. Her brother had beaten the shit out of Mike for that dare, but she’d done it. And Zach wasn’t making her stand down, either. She could survive a night with her old crush. Her heart didn’t clench at all.

She shoved a plastic shopping bag into his hands, avoiding his surprised gaze. “Here, take this into the kitchen. Since you’re here, you may as well be useful. I have three more in the car. And put a shirt on.”

He smirked and headed for the kitchen in front of her. Her eyes drifted down to the angry scars on his lower leg. Her heart twinged at how much pain and fear he must have felt during that accident.

“Hi, Andy. Hope you’re hungry. I brought lasagna,” Lacey called into the living room as she passed.

She got to the small kitchen and Zach stood there, sucking all the oxygen out of the space. “What are you doing here?”

She put the insulated tote on the counter and preheated the oven. “Andy and I have dinner every Monday to discuss the bar. He didn’t mention it?”

Zach scowled. “This explains why he wasn’t interested in going out to eat when I offered to take him to dinner.”

She turned and folded her arms, ignoring the fluttering in her stomach. “Can you get the bags, please? I assume you’re staying for dinner. Provided you put on some clothes.” Not that she minded the view, which was hella nice, though it was wreaking havoc on her lady parts that wanted her to drag him into a dark corner and have her way with him.

“Depends. Do you want me to stay?” He smirked and leaned against the counter, folding his arms across his broad chest, as if he knew exactly how he was affecting her.

Good question. It would be far safer for her if he left, but this was his home and her parents had instilled manners in her. She couldn’t be directly rude. A part of her was happy he was here, the part that was enjoying the partially naked view in front of her.

“Put on some clothes and get the rest of the groceries,” she grumbled, and began unpacking. He left the room, laughter echoing behind him.

Once all the bags were in the kitchen, he followed directions, helping to put things away. “What’s all of this?”

She shrugged. “I bring Andy meals for the week and stock his fridge so he has something to eat. We all help where we can. There’s enough as I made double portions. Here are the directions for heating everything up.”

He frowned at the list she gave him. “Why do you do this? He’s not family.”

She resisted the urge to snap a reply and instead settled for a hand on his arm, forcing him to stop and listen. “Family is not always blood, Zach. It’s the people you choose. Why don’t you finish whatever it was you were doing?”

He flinched. “Nah, I’m fine. I was just doing some exercises. I’ll grab my shirt.”

He ducked out, leaving Lacey wondering what she did wrong.

DINNER WAS SURREAL. Andy was family, but Zach felt like the outsider, not knowing most of what Lacey talked about. She asked about upcoming appointments, medications, and rehab assignments, things family should know. Things Zach’s mother hadn’t discussed with him when she asked him to check on Uncle Andy. Now guilt weighed on him for not being there when his uncle needed him. Andy had taken him in every summer for years, provided freedom and space to be a kid, and introduced him to nature and photography that eventually led to his career. He owed him.

As dinner wound down, he cleared the table and let Lacey and Andy get down to business. While he did the dishes, he could hear her gently offering suggestions to the dwindling profits and the increasing expenses at the bar. But his uncle just shook his head and diverted the conversation. Lacey finally sighed and gathered up the papers. Andy wandered off to the living room and an old western.

Zach didn’t want her to go, not yet. He couldn’t deny he craved her company or the closeness they once had.

Zach opened the fridge and took out a couple of beers. “Time for a beer?”

She nodded, and they headed for the porch, past Uncle Andy dozing. They settled on the old swing that Zach had spent most of the day fixing. He stretched his leg out and rubbed it absently. Lacey noted the movement.

“Stiff tonight?”

He shrugged. “Every night. It was a bad break.”

Her eyes were drawn to it. “Can you tell me about it?”

He stifled a sigh, hating to revisit the accident that still haunted his nightmares. “It was a freak accident. We were coming down from the summit and were in the ash fields. The ash is thick and your leg sinks into it to your mid-calf. You can’t see what’s under it and you have to be careful. I stepped hard on a rock and went down. Shattered my tibia, the bone sticking almost out of the skin. The medical student with us helped splint it and get me down to the sherpas, then to a local hospital. I had surgery there and had to recuperate for a couple of weeks before I could be moved.”

He could still hear the horrifying snap, the rush of pain, and the terror that his lust for adventure would kill him. And that he’d die alone. Lacey stared at him in horrified silence and rested a hand on his thigh. Her touch burned a hole through the thin board shorts. Blood rushed south, and he prayed she wouldn’t notice his cock stirring.

“That sounds awful.”

“They had to straighten the bone and hold it in place.” He stared out into the dusk of the summer night, his jaw clenching as he remembered the long days and nights recuperating.

She turned his face to her. “You must have been terrified. Did they call your family?”

He nodded. “They called mom, but they were terrified to come to Africa. Dad worked on getting me home as soon as it was safe.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re their son. I can’t believe they wouldn’t go see you.”

He shrugged, not sure how to explain it to her. “My mom worried someone would kidnap her for ransom.”

A startled laugh burst out of Lacey. “You’re kidding me, right? I’d be on the first plane.”

He shook his head. “My parents love me, but they don’t understand me. And traveling to anything other than civilized places freaks them out.”

She shook her head. “I’ve met your parents. Maine is the wild frontier to them.”

He shrugged. “That’s who they are. They love each other and are very happy together.” He rested his head against Lacey’s. “Thank you for taking good care of Andy when he needed it.”

She smiled against his cheek. “He’s family, Zach. Of course, we’d be there for him.”

They stared out over the sloping hill in the back of Uncle Andy’s house, at the deepening dusk for several minutes, enjoying their beer. He also enjoyed the weight of Lacey against him, but he tried not to think too hard about it because his blood stirred south and he couldn’t hide his reaction to her, especially with how delicious she smelled, like garlic and sexy woman.

Finally, she broke the silence. “Are you really thinking of taking Andy away from here?”

Shit. That was a guaranteed mood killer, not to mention a topic that would start a fight. “He can’t stay here on his own. He’s eighty-three and has health issues. Winters are tough up here. If he’s in Boston, I can keep an eye on him.”

“Only when you’re in the country. What happens when you travel?” She shifted until she could face him. “He has people to look out for him. We’re all here for him.”

“It’s not the same.” But he wouldn’t address the elephant in the room, his travel. That topic was too raw, too tender for now.

“Bullshit. We’re the ones who were here for him when he needed us. Leave him where he has people and come visit more.”

Damn it, why couldn’t Lacey just leave it alone? “If he’s in Boston, my mom can check on him easier and he’ll have nursing staff at the assisted living facility. It won’t be a nursing home. It’s a nice place.”

She folded her arms and glared at him. “Does Andy want to do this? Or are you just forcing the issue without his consideration? Abandoning him while you gallivant around the world, taking your photos and sleeping with supermodels?”

“I won’t be traveling anymore. I can’t do any of that anymore. Not with my leg.” He shoved off the swing and stalked to the far end of the porch, leaving Lacey staring at him. “I had too much damage to my leg, and it’s too risky for me to be out on assignment. My career is over.”

CHAPTER THREE

LACEY DIDN’T SEE Zach for three days. His last words that evening disturbed her for many reasons, but when she tried to see him, he was never around. She called him, but he didn’t answer. She texted, and no response. She swung by Andy’s place but, Zach had just left. She decided more serious measures were required. And it would require her to get up at the ass-crack of dawn, which she hated. But he was worth it.

The next morning, she made her way up the hiking trails to the top of Mount Battie overlooking Penobscot Bay. As she suspected, Zach was perched on a boulder at the summit, staring at the sun rising over the Atlantic, an ATV parked nearby. She stood on the flat area near the stone tower and war memorial and watched him for a few minutes, trying to figure out what to say.

“You can come closer. I won’t bite, you know. Unless you want me to,” Zach called out without turning around.

She sat on the boulder next to him. “I wasn’t sure if you knew I was here. Wasn’t sure if you wanted company.”

“Would you leave if I said no?”

“Probably not. But I’ll share my homemade blueberry muffins with you. See if that sweetens your mood.” She held out a muffin and a thermos of coffee.

He glanced at the offerings and sighed. “Fine. I’ll suffer through it. But no talking.”

She mimicked zipping her lip and handed over the food and drink. They enjoyed their breakfast as the sun burned off the early morning fog from the bay.

“Remember when we used to do this every morning?”

He let out a soft sigh, as if knowing her promise of silence had been too easy. “You would just be getting off work, then head up here to meet me.”

“You’d bring your camera to see what shots you could get. Some of your best photos came from here. I loved those mornings.” A trace of wistfulness threaded in her tone and she leaned against him for a moment. “Did you bring your camera?”

He shook his head. “Why bother? These pictures won’t matter.”

“That never stopped you before. You took pictures for the pure joy of it. Look at how the fog is weaving around the inlets of the bay. You used to be able to see the magic in everyday things, capturing them with your camera. I envied your talent. My greatest talent is remembering drink orders and carrying a loaded tray.”

She hated that she sounded a little needy there, but it was true. The talent fairy had passed her by in the family. Her brother got drafted into minor league ball. Her cousin Mike could fix anything. Her? Serving drinks.

He leaned back and looked at her. “I never knew that. And you have more talents than drink orders. You make everyone feel special. You take care of everyone. That’s a special skill, Lacey. You care.”

She let a small smile cross her face. “I’m glad to hear you say that. Do you want to talk about your leg and this complete bullshit about not having a future?”

LEAVE it to Lacey to hunt him down at the one place he always went to when he wanted to soothe his soul, find peace, and guidance in these directionless times. In the past, when he was feeling unsettled or confused, he would come here, often with Lacey, and he would find answers. But today, answers, like peace, eluded him. Though he felt better with Lacey next to him, as if a missing piece had clicked into place.

“It’s not bullshit. Thanks to these rods and pins, it’s too risky to do some of the extreme adventures where I took most of my pictures. No more Amazon jungle trips, climbing mountains, Antarctica experiences. The risks of my leg giving out and being too far from medical care is too great. Maybe I can get a job taking prom pictures and baby’s first birthdays, or weddings.”

Maybe she should have skipped the coffee and brought some alcohol. Tequila would have gone perfectly with the sunrise, though hiking back home might be a bitch.

Lacey rolled her eyes. “Is why you came back to Maine? To whine and wallow like a little bitch? Not to help your uncle?”

He flinched. “Of course not, although I needed some time to recuperate, which I hoped would strengthen the leg. But I intended to use that time to convince Andy to come back to Boston with me.”

“And, when you’re healed, you would then abandon him in a new place with strangers to care for him? Not a great plan, Channing. In fact, it’s pretty shitty.”

He sighed. She was right, calling him out on his bullshit. “When my parents and I talked about this, I guess I wasn’t thinking about the impact on Andy. Bottom line, it’s better if he was closer to family, where we can see him and take care of him. I know you all have been watching out for him, but it’s our responsibility. And, since it looks like I’m not going anywhere, I’d like him closer.”

She pursed her lips and studied him for a long moment, then changed the subject. “Why didn’t you ever come back after that summer?”

And there it was, the question he’d been waiting for since he got back. Even Andy hadn’t asked him that, and he had more right than anyone else. Except for Lacey. Despite her saying it was a fake relationship, it had been real. The engagement may have been fake, but he’d loved Lacey. Then he’d left like she didn’t matter. What an asshole.

“I wanted to. So many times, I almost did. But I had to make something of myself, had to prove something.”

“You never had to prove yourself to me.” Her voice was barely above a murmur.

“I know.”

She stared out over Penobscot Bay as the sun spilled over the water, gradually brightening the sky. “Are you done?”

She always asked the tough questions. Of course, his leg made that decision for him, and now he was back to square one with no direction in his life. “I don’t know.”

Despite the unknown, there was one thing he knew. He had to taste her, had to know if she was as sweet and sassy as he remembered. He leaned down and brushed her lips with his, once, twice, as if testing his reception, then he settled more fully on her, deepening the kiss. She pressed against him. Softening. Opening. Welcoming. And it was just as sweet and hot as he remembered.

Voices came from the trail behind them, and she pulled away. “We should head back down.” She paused. “Will you spend the day with me? No questions, just today.”

He hesitated for a moment. Then he nodded. “I’d like that.”

A brilliant smile crossed her face, and she led him down the mountain. He followed her ATV, wondering if maybe he was back in Maine for more than his physical recuperation. Maybe his soul was healing, too.

CHAPTER FOUR

LACEY PULLED into the Hulls Cove Visitor Center, the beginning of the Park Loop Road at Acadia National Park. They didn’t have time to go to some of their favorite spots, nor did she have enough lead time for reservations. She hadn’t been sure what his leg was capable of. Could he climb Cadillac Mountain for stargazing? Could he hike the rougher parts of the park? She settled for bringing Zach to the place where he first discovered his love of photography to see if he could reclaim it.

Zach turned in his seat and stared at Lacey. “I think the hike up Mount Battie was enough for my leg. There’s no way I can hike the Park Loop.”

“Good thing I planned for us to drive it. I’m not in the same shape I used to be, either. I thought we could do the drive, stop where we want, and have lunch at the Pond House. It’s been years since I’ve been up here.” She pulled into a space. “Hang on. I’ll run in and get our visitor’s pass. While I’m inside, see if you have everything you need in here.”

She dumped a bag on his lap and ran like the coward she was, not waiting to see his reaction. When she came back out, he had the camera in his lap. “Where did you get this? I didn’t bring a camera with me.”

She grinned. “Andy told me what to get. I ran up to Belfast to find it. I know it might not be as good as the one you had, but we hope it’ll do the job.”

He caressed the camera, much like she wished he’d touch her, and nodded. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”

She gave him an innocent look. “I don’t know what you mean. We just know how antsy you get without a camera in your hands. Let’s get going. And, if you see something you want to shoot, let me know. Let’s start with Thunderhole. Can you do that walk?”

He sighed and nodded, his hands cradling the camera.

ZACH WANTED to be pissed off at Lacey and Andy for pushing him into taking pictures again, but damn it, he had felt itchy without his camera. His favorite camera had been destroyed in his accident and he hadn’t replaced it yet. Why spend that kind of money when he couldn’t make a living from photography anymore? But it sure felt damn good framing images today, finding the right lighting, capturing the moment in the lens.

He rediscovered his love of Acadia, and maybe more. Lacey kept them to the tourist road and the scenic overlooks, clogged with summer visitors. They hiked a bit off the road to find better angles, but his leg tweaked a bit, so he limited the detours as much as possible.

Lacey seemed to have as much fun as he did, laughing, posing when he asked her to, and taking pictures for groups with their cell phones. He snapped a few candid shots of her, something to remember her by, to update the ones he still had at home. But he still couldn’t capture her liveliness, her beauty, her spirit.

They ended at the Pond House, where they sat down to a late lunch of seafood and beer. While they looked out over Jordan Pond, Lacey eyed him.

“Did you enjoy your day?”

He took a long swallow of his beer before replying. “I had forgotten how beautiful it was here.”

She rested her chin on her hands. “There’s no place I’d rather be. I know Bas traveled for baseball, but I think he’s happy here, especially now that he’s found Rachel. For me, there was never any doubt that Maine is where I want to live and die. I’m a Mainer, through and through.” She gave a laugh. “We must seem provincial to you, after all of your adventures.”

He sipped his beer and looked out over the valley. “It’s true I’ve been all over the world and experienced many cultures. I wouldn’t trade that for anything. But none brought me the peace I feel here in Maine.”

She watched him for a moment, her eyes peering into his soul. “It’s home.”

He nodded, realizing that she was right. “It’s home.”

Their food was delivered, and they tucked in. He regaled her with stories of the strange foods he tried. They laughed and joked, and somehow, during the conversation, they became friends again. And maybe something more.

CHAPTER FIVE

AFTER LUNCH, they headed for home. Zach massaged his leg and tried to stretch it, but her Subaru didn’t have quite enough room for him to get comfortable. She made the executive decision to bring him to her place, where they could relax. And dare she hope… more?

In her heart, there had only been one man for her. They’d been too young to realize it. Played fast and loose with the boundaries. Then he broke her heart and left to pursue his dreams. Maybe now that he’d come home, they could have a second chance, assuming he didn’t take Andy and her dreams of owning The Salty Dog with him.

For today, to keep the peace and distract Zach, she wouldn’t bring it up. Besides, spending time in a more personal way fit with the theme of showing Zach he had other options.

She parked next to her small cottage that she and her cousin spent the past few years renovating. Zach glanced around in confusion. “Why are we stopping here?”

“Your leg is sore, and I thought you could use some help relaxing. Mike got me a hot tub last year off a holiday rental he was renovating. Thought it would help your muscles.”

Zach moaned. “That would feel amazing.”

Thirty minutes later, they faced each other in the warm water, sipping beers. Zach rested his head against the back of the tub and closed his eyes. “Nice choice, Lacey. I approve of this change of plans.”

She laughed softly. “Glad to hear it.”

After several minutes, he opened one eye. “We’ve talked about me and my adventures. What have you been up to? Any great loves? Any adventures?”

She stared at the blue sky and the white puffy clouds drifting across. “Nope. I’m an open book, Channing. I spend time with my family and I run The Salty Dog. Someday, I hope to buy it from Andy and keep it going.”

A laugh burst out of him, startling her. “That place? Lacey, it’s kind of a wreck. The air-conditioning doesn’t work. The interior hasn’t been updated since before Andy’s time, and profits are down. Why would you want to anchor yourself to a millstone like that?”

She splashed him with water. “It’s not a wreck. Okay, it’s not in the best of condition, but it’s a part of Swan’s Creek history. It’s been handed down through generations from Andy’s great grandfather. It’s part of your history. Did you know that?”

He grimaced. “Andy never told me that.”

She snorted. “You should look at some of the old photos on the walls. They’re not random. They’re your family, Zach. And a lot of them are mine, too.”

She leaned forward. “Andy hates change, but he’s also overwhelmed. He’s not ready to let go. When he is, I want to be there to take up the baton.”

Zach stretched his arms across the back of the hot tub and studied her with lazy eyes. “Looks like I’m the answer to your problems.”

How dense could one man be? “Yeah, not so much. While the bar may not look like much, I’m young and too much of a risk for the bank. The bar’s profits aren’t exactly stellar, as you pointed out. Another strike against me. If Andy leaves, the bar closes.”

THAT PRONOUNCEMENT kind of killed the mood. Zach hadn’t been exactly sure where the day had been going. When they had driven back to Lacey’s place, he had some high hopes that they might be on the same page, and maybe in the same bed that night. He hadn’t realized that his plans for taking care of his uncle would destroy her dreams, or that they were so entwined with the town she loved. Now, after all she had done for him that day, he felt like a world class asshole. Cock-blocked by himself.

Way to go, dumbass.

He laid his head against the back of the tub and stared at the late afternoon sky, wondering how he could salvage this day. He sipped his beer and gently flexed his leg. The muscles were still sore and tight, but the hot tub was helping. He’d have to stretch and work them out with a massage later, dig in with some of that cream the therapist gave him.

His leg brushed Lacey’s, and he glanced across the tub to see her studying him. “Is this helping your leg at all?”

“A little. But I’ll need to work out the knots later.”

She stood, water sluicing off her slim, toned body in her one-piece. She grabbed a towel as she got out of the tub. “Come on. I’ll give you a massage, work out those kinks. It’s the least I can do since I pushed you today.”

Maybe today wasn’t a total loss. Blood rushed south and he willed his dick to settle before he climbed out stiffly, being careful of the leg. By the time he followed her inside, she was wrapped in a robe and waiting by a door. “The bedroom would be the easiest. In here.”

“You just can’t wait to get me in your bed, can you, Lacey?” He couldn’t resist teasing her.

She arched her eyebrows. “It would be a nice change for us, wouldn’t it?”

“God, was it that bad?”

She laughed. “We were teens. Everyone did it in the fields, in their truck, wherever you could, as long as your parents never found out. I’m too old for that now.”

He paused in the doorway, caging her against the doorjamb. He traced her cheek with the back of his finger. “You’re still the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen, Lacey.”

He stretched out on the queen-sized bed, tense, which was stupid because she’d touched him plenty over the years. But he was unprepared for the heat that shot through him when she rested her hand on his left calf, then trailed it up the back of his leg, the path smoothed by some lotion that smelled oddly medicinal.

“This was left over from when I pulled a muscle playing volleyball. It’s supposed to be good for relaxing muscles. I thought it might help.”

She began at his hamstrings, then worked her way down, finding each knot and ruthlessly attacking them until they eased. When she was satisfied with the left leg, he thought she would stop, but she moved to the right leg, then to his back, which had been thrown off by his limping. He couldn’t stop the groans and cries of pain as she relentlessly bore down on each spot until he was boneless under her hands.

She finished with his neck and started to step away, but he reached out, his hand grasping her thigh. “Lacey, don’t go.”

It had been the worst kind of torture, and not just because of her attack on his muscles, but her assault on his senses. His face had been buried in her pillow, teased by her scent, aroused by her touch, and his cock was rock hard, pressed into the mattress, begging for relief.

She paused, and he eased his grip, slowly stroking the soft skin under her robe. Her breathing came faster, and he trailed his fingers higher towards her center, lightly teasing her soft skin. He turned his head and their eyes met, hers going darker with growing heat, her breath coming faster.

He shifted onto his side and her gaze involuntary drifted down his body to his aroused cock. He smirked. “What did you expect would happen when you had your hands all over me? Or maybe that was your plan all along?”

She climbed onto the bed, pushing him flat on his back, and straddled him. “Maybe it was. It took you long enough, Channing. You call yourself my fiance, but you ran harder than a scared rabbit.”

She bent down, her long dark hair cascading around her to drape around them, and she kissed him, grinding her ass against his hard cock. He groaned and gripped her hips, holding her in place so she wouldn’t rub against his very hard erection that threatened to make this whole interlude end way too soon. She nipped his lower lip and soothed it with her tongue.

That was enough. He flipped them, pinning her to the bed, settling between her thighs, and grinned down at her. “Behave, or this will be over too soon, and that won’t be any fun for either of us.”

She pouted. “I kind of hoped you learned something over the years.”

He grunted. “Trust me, I have.”

She barked a laugh. “Prove it.”

He slid a hand down the front of her robe and opened it, stroking over her one-piece. Her breath hitched and her eyes widened, then she moaned. This time, it was Zach who took control, claiming her lips in a thorough kiss, his tongue sweeping inside to tangle with her tongue and tease her. His fingers continued to move, slowly edging up, until he brushed the side of her breast. She gasped in his mouth and he chuckled.

“You couldn’t have worn a two-piece?”

She pulled back. “I didn’t want to make it too easy or obvious. I did all the work, anyway.”

He brushed her lips with his. “Shhh, lie back and let me do the work now.”

She grinned. “And think of England?”

“Trust me, if I do it right, you won’t be thinking of anything. Condoms?”

She gestured to the bedside table. “Top drawer.”

He opened the drawer and pulled out a string from what appeared to be a freshly opened box. He tossed them on the bed and turned his attention back to Lacey. “Now, how to get you out of this chastity suit?”

She wiggled a bit and pulled the straps forward until her top half was bare. He swallowed hard. “I’ve got the rest.”

He followed her back down and gently kneaded the soft mounds of her breasts, thumbing her nipples, which had tightened in the cooler air. He sucked one taut peak into his mouth, sucking lightly and nipping the tip as she used to love. Judging by her moans, she still liked a bit of pain with her pleasure. Right now, it had been too long for him to explore that. It would have to wait for round two.

He peeled the suit down her body as he nipped and sucked the other tip. Then he kissed his way down her stomach to the center of her body. He spread her thighs and kissed her, sweeping his tongue up her core to curl around her clit. She yelped and arched her back. He grasped her thighs and slid a finger deep inside, then another, fucking her deeply, while sucking her clit into his mouth. It didn’t take long for her body to tighten and explode around him.

He rose up above her and grabbed the condom, sheathing himself. He positioned himself at her opening, but waited until she opened her eyes. “I’d say you delivered on your promise.”

He gave her a tight smile. “We’re not done yet.”

He slowly pressed inside, rocking his hips until he was fully seated. Then he moved, slow, deep, unhurried strokes, her body still clenching around him. Her hips rose with him, her legs wrapping around his waist and her nails digging into his back. She pulled him down. “Fuck me, Zach. Now.”

Unleashed, he moved faster, harder, deeper, changing his angle to hit her somewhere else that made her cry out and come a second time within a few strokes. Thank fuck, because he didn’t think he could have held out any longer. He followed her over with a bellow and collapsed on the bed.

After a few minutes, he raised his head and looked at her. “Now I’ve delivered.”

CHAPTER SIX

THEY MADE love several more times that night, proving that Zach truly had improved over his younger self. Lacey thought she may have held her own, but she was stiff and sore. She was definitely not looking forward to a shift at the bar that afternoon. Zach came out of the shower and pulled her against him, kissing her deeply, then stealing her coffee.

“I see how it is. The old bait and switch. Fine,” but she laughed anyway.

It was fun having someone to wake up with, to have breakfast with. They sat on the porch, sipping coffee and eating her homemade blueberry muffins, and watching the sun rise.

Zach looked over at her. “You know, you could always move to Boston, too.”

She froze. “What?”

He casually lifted one shoulder. “You said you’ve been nowhere else. How do you know you won’t like somewhere else? Boston isn’t that far. Come with me. See if you like it. Spend time with me.”

“This is my home. I have a house here, family.”

“I’m not saying you need to sell everything, not right away. Give it a trial run.” He faced her. “The Salty Dog is not doing well. You know it purely from a numbers perspective. I heard it when you reported to Andy. There isn’t any money for upgrades, whether or not Andy stays. You need other options.”

“Have you been talking to my brother or Mike?”

He looked confused. “No, is that what they’re saying? Because they’re right. Mike does your repairs. He would know what it would take to renovate the place. Come with me. See another life. Maybe you’ll like it.”

“And what happens when you get an assignment and go away for months at a time? What happens to me and Andy? Am I there as his caretaker?”

He sighed. “Look, it would be nice for Andy to have someone there that he knows, but it’s doubtful that I’ll be going anywhere on assignment. It’s not in the cards for me.”

“But you don’t know the future.”

“No one does, Lacey.” He sounded exasperated, and she didn’t blame him because she was frustrated, too. He didn’t understand what he was asking of her. They came from two worlds and maybe they couldn’t meet. However, he was right about one thing. Mike had told her that the bar needed major renovations and there wasn’t any money to do them, not without a major loan from the bank, which was highly unlikely. Maybe she should consider a different future.

Before they could continue the conversation, his phone beeped. He glanced at it. “Voicemail. From your brother.”

She grabbed her phone and saw an identical voicemail. They both listened, and her blood ran cold. Before he even finished, she was up and grabbing her keys and heading for the door, Zach on her heels.

ANDY SCOWLED at them from his position in the hospital bed. “I’m just fine. I just got a little dizzy.”

“And ran into a building,” Zach spoke through gritted teeth.

“It was just a bump. No major damage.” Andy waved his hand.

Zach dropped his head into his hands. This what was he was trying to prevent. Keeping his uncle safe was his primary reason for coming to Maine. Instead, he was getting off with his ex-girlfriend. He never even checked in with his uncle or his phone.

He glared at Lacey. “This is why he needs to be in assisted living. He can’t be alone. He needs care.”

Andy struggled to a sitting position while Lacey looked stricken. “Is this why you’re here, boy? I wondered why you got a bee in your bum to come visit. Well, you can just let that idea go. I’m not leaving my home. I was born here and they’ll carry me off here.”

Zach groaned. “Andy, you aren’t healthy enough to take care of yourself. Admit it. We’re in a hospital, for crissake. And you were just driving to cribbage.”

“It’ll kill me if you take me away from my home.”

“It might kill you if you stay. No, you’re moving to Boston and that’s final. You made me your medical executor a few years ago and I can make this decision.”

Lacey’s jaw dropped as she stared at him in horror. “Zach, would you really force Andy to leave his home?”

“It’s for his own good. And yes, that means the bar has to be sold or closed, if we can’t find a buyer, which I doubt we could. I’m sorry, Lacey. But this is for his own good. Come to Boston with us.”

“What would I do, Zach? Be your live in fuck-buddy and take care of Andy when you go off on your adventures? No thanks. You’re not the man I thought you were. Andy, I’ll visit you as often as I can.” She stood and stared sadly at Zach. “Goodbye, Zach. I wish you hadn’t forgotten who you were.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

ZACH TRIED to see Lacey again before he went home, but she neatly avoided him, even had her brother and cousin intervene. He wanted to call her a coward but, honestly, he didn’t blame her. Once Andy had been discharged, Zach headed back to Boston to get things in motion for the move. It took longer for the opening at the facility near Zach’s home than he expected.

Finally, Zach was back in Maine, staring at his uncle, who was sitting in his recliner, not a single thing packed. “We discussed this. You were going to at least identify what you wanted to bring. You didn’t have to pack anything, just identify it. Sort your clothes, that kind of thing. What have you done since I’ve been gone?”

Andy looked up from his puzzle. “Well, I had dinner at Izzy’s. Lacey came by a few times. Went to the bar. Played in a cribbage tournament. We won, of course. The usual, I suppose.”

Zach let out an exasperated breath. “We have to leave in a couple of days. They won’t hold your place forever.”

Andy resumed his game. “Not leaving.”

Zach took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He sat across from his uncle. “We discussed this. You can’t stay alone any longer. Winters are hard, and your health isn’t what it used to be.”

Andy leveled a stare at him. “You discussed it. I wasn’t given an option. Where will you be?”

Zach reared back, the question taking him by surprise. “I don’t know. Given the state of my leg, I’ll need to find something else.”

Andy put the booklet and pen down and leaned forward. “Counter proposal. I stay here, and you move here.”

Zach rolled his eyes and got up, pacing the small living room. “There are even fewer options for me here than in Boston.”

“Really?” The older man sat back in his chair with a secretive smile. “What if I told you that the park photographer for Acadia National Park was retiring this year and looking for his replacement?”

Zach slowly pivoted. He’d spent many afternoons with Arnie learning about the park and nature photography from him. In fact, he’d given Zach the photography bug, much to his parents’ chagrin. “Arnie’s retiring? When?”

“End of this season. You’d be the perfect candidate to replace him. He’ll interview you tomorrow, if you’re interested. But you’d have to move to Maine.”

Give up his Boston apartment? Maybe. It felt like a hotel room to him, one his mother had decorated to her tastes, not his. If he moved to Maine, maybe he could fix the mess he’d made with Lacey, an idea that had been growing on him since he’d driven over the Portland bridge two weeks ago.

“Set it up, old man. And don’t think I don’t know you manipulated this.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

LACEY WASN’T TOO proud to admit she’d hidden out for the past couple of weeks—at the bar, her house… anywhere she could avoid a lecture on setting her hopes too high. The one person she never avoided was Andy. He needed her, relied on her. In her spare time, she made the rounds at all the local banks and those further afield, hoping one of them would take a chance on a bar manager without a lot of assets to her name. None did.

Andy assured her that he wasn’t going anywhere and Zach couldn’t make him. But Andy needed more help, and she understood Zach’s point, even if it pissed her off. Someone needed to be with Andy more than a drive-by. At least Zach cared enough to do it, whether or not she liked his methods.

When she heard Zach was back in Swan’s Creek, she almost bailed on the traditional Monday night dinner. Coward that she was. Her heart couldn’t take seeing him. But Andy called specifically, asking her to come, so here she was, staring at his front porch, dawdling like a toddler.

Damn it. Grow a pair and go inside. Get it over with.

She flung open the door, grabbed the fried chicken and sides and stalked to the front door. Andy met her there with a frown. “About time you got out of the car. Food’s probably cold. He isn’t here, you know.”

She brushed past him and headed for the kitchen. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Andy followed with a grunt. They ate in silence until they were just about done. Then Andy left the room and came back with a folder that he slid over to Lacey. She glanced over at him, but he just kept eating his blueberry cobbler.

She opened it to see a contract, transferring ownership of the bar to Lacey LeBeau. “Andy, what’s going on? I can’t buy the bar from you.”

“You’ve been paying me since the day you took over as manager, a little bit out of the profits every week. Going forward, you’ll pay a little bit out of the profits until you’ve paid it off. It’s all outlined in the contract. This way, I get a stipend every month and you can get to pay it off slowly. No banks needed. I assume the terms and outstanding amount are fair.”

She glanced at the last page with the amounts and almost fainted. “More than fair. But, Andy, this was your retirement. How can you afford this?”

He smiled. “The bar was never my sole income. I retired from the paper mill with a pension plus savings that my nephew invested for me. I’m not rich, but I’m doing okay. The bar was fun. Besides, this is what you do for family.”

She almost wept with gratitude. “I plan to make a lot of changes, you know.”

He scowled. “I suppose. It’s your place now. You understand how important it is and you’re the right person for it.”

Impulsively, she leaned across the table and hugged him. “It won’t be the same without you.”

“He’s not going anywhere. And neither am I.”

Lacey froze, her hand clenching Andy’s arm. Slowly, she released her death grip and turned to see Zach standing in the kitchen doorway, his hands buried in his pocket. “I thought you had gone out for the evening.”

“I had planned on being back here for dinner, but my appointment ran late.” He remained standing in the doorway as if blocking any escape she thought to make.

“Are you okay with your uncle’s plans for The Salty Dog?” She held her breath, waiting for his response.

A faint smile touched his lips. “It’s his bar. He can do whatever he wants with it. But, in this case, I heartily approve. It couldn’t go to a better person.”

“You don’t think it’s a millstone around my neck?” She shot back, his words from a couple of weeks ago still smarting.

He winced. “You’ll never let me forget that, will you? I still think the bar needs a lot of work, but you have the energy and ideas to turn it around. And maybe you could use an extra pair of hands occasionally to help.”

Hope was a tiny spark inside of her heart but didn’t want to fan the flames, having been disappointed before. “Speak plainly, Zach. Will you be stopping by in between your adventures?”

He pulled up a chair, sliding it right next to her so his knees pressed against her thigh. He gathered her hands in his, gripping them firmly. “The only adventures I’ll be having are right here in Maine. I’m the new park photographer for Acadia National Park. I’ll be spending the rest of this year working with Arnie, then the gig is all mine. I’m not going anywhere.”

Andy shoved his chair from the table. “Okay, I’m out. Let me know what you decide.” He took the blueberry cobbler into the other room and cranked up the television.

Damn it, that spark was growing. She swallowed against the lump in her throat, trying to calm the frantic beating of her heart. “You’ll be living with Andy?”

His lips twisted in that boyish grin. “The twin bed has seen better days. I was kind of hoping I could arrange an upgrade. Maybe with a certain bar owner? I’m willing to work for room and board, and the occasional…extra services.”

Zach cocked his eyebrow at her. “What do you say? I might be a bit broken, but I’m all yours for as long as you’ll have me.”

Well, damn. Now she had everything she’d ever wanted. Was she ready to take a hold of the last piece of the pie? She yanked her hands out of his and wrapped them around his neck, tugging him closer. “You’re not broken. You’re right back where you belong. You’re home, Zach Channing.”

She kissed him, letting him feel all her longing, her hopes, and her love, and she felt his own sense of peace in return.

“Get a room… and not here!” Andy yelled from the living room.

They both burst out laughing. She stood. “I have more cobbler at home.”

“Why are we still here?”

About the Author

Ever since Megan Ryder discovered Jude Devereaux and Judith McNaught while sneaking around the “forbidden” romance section of the library one day after school, she has been voraciously devouring romance novels of all types. Now a romance author in her own right, Megan pens sexy contemporary novels all about family and hot lovin’ with the boy next door. She’s also a master procrastinator–if only her cocker spaniel, Bentley, would let her focus on writing instead of playing ball all day!

To read the first book in the Last Shot series for free (Her Last Shot), sign up for Megan’s newsletter.

See other books by Megan at: https://www.meganryder.com

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BACKSEAT BABY

A HEARTBREAK FOR HIRE BONUS SCENE

MELISSA ANDREA

HIS PALM MOVED up my spine and up the back of my neck. His fingers tangled in my hair, wrapping the strands in a tight fist, but when he pulled it was softly. The restraint he used made me want to scream. My body was thrumming with sensation and flooded for him. I wanted my husband to release his beast on me. I didn’t want soft and gentle.

“You promised,” I complained, my voice horse.

He tensed against me, fighting between wanting to give me exactly what I was begging for and wanting to continue to take it slow and easy.

I wasn’t going to make it easy on him. I arched my back, pressing my ass harder against him, and I felt his fingers tighten in my hair.

“Please, Dylan.” I begged again. “Fuck me.”

My words sent him over the edge, and he thrust into me harder, throwing me forward into the bed. I turned my face against the bed, finding the mirror I had purposely arranged so I could watch him fuck me. His thrusts became urgent, pushing me closer. He grabbed my hips, shifting them slightly, and when he moved inside of me again it was like heaven.

I cried out, my orgasm crashing over me in a heated way of pleasure. It was too intense for me to keep quiet, and it was too late to worry if I had woken up our sleeping daughter. We would know soon enough.

Still, Dylan’s palm slid over my mouth as he railed me the way I had begged him to. He fucked me through my orgasm before he paused, his body tense and his low growl filling the room as he filled me.

I collapsed on my side, rolling onto my back. Dylan was there to pull me closer to him, snuggling into my neck and kissing my collarbone.

“Way to play, dirty, Mrs. Russell,” he breathed. His hand found my stomach and his fingers swept back and forth over my baby bump.

“You promised you weren’t going to hold back. I was determined to hold you up to it.” I chuckled, feeling more relaxed than I had in weeks.

His hand flattened protectively over my stomach, and our son kicked as if he was welcoming Dylan’s touch.

“You know why, Gwen.”

I did know why, but I was fine now. The doctor’s had assured me that the baby and I were healthy. Still, neither Dylan or I had any idea that I would go into pre-term labor in my second trimester. And even though it had nothing to do with our sex life, it had put Dylan on guard. I was put on bed rest for three weeks, and then I was given the okay by my doctor to resume life as normally as I could. Except Dylan was having none of that and treated me like I was going to break at any moment.

I covered his hand, moving it slightly so he could feel his son kick—so he could feel that our baby was okay and moving inside me. We were nearing the end of my pregnancy. Dylan getting a little rough and wild with me was exactly what my body wanted and needed. Not to mention, once the baby was here, I wouldn’t be able to do anything for six weeks.

My pregnancy with our daughter, Isabella, had been as easy as any pregnancy could be, and I had been thankful for that. When we found out I was having a boy this time around, I should have expected nothing less than chaos from him. He was already proving to be just like his daddy.

“It’s been two months since I’ve gotten the okay from the doctor, Dylan.” I reminded him. “We’ve been having boring slow sex since then. I’m fine, the baby is fine. I have three weeks left of this pregnancy before I’m out of commission for six weeks and not to mention that our lives are going to change once again when he gets here.”

His hand moved up my stomach, cupping my breast. When he looked up at me, there was a hunger in his eyes I hadn’t seen in a long time, and I instantly felt the warmth between my legs.

“You’re right,” he said, lifting himself over me. He kissed a line down the side of my neck before capturing my nipple in his teeth. He shoved my legs open and settled between them, nestling his hard cock between my folds. “It’s time I start making it up to you.”

And he did, several times, covering my mouth each time as he fucked me into a screaming frenzy.

MY EYES FLEW OPEN, and I laid there, not quite sure what woke me. The TV lit the room, but it was muted so it couldn’t have been the sound that woke me. Grabbing the baby monitor from the nightstand beside me, I watched the screen. Izzy was sleeping soundly and my heart beat resumed its normal pace.

After checking the time and see it was a little after four in the morning, I lay back against my pillows and tried to fall back asleep. Except, my bladder decided at that moment that I needed to urgently pee. Sitting up at my size was a chore, and the bed shook. Dylan shifted in the bed behind me before he turned on his side and began to snore soundly.

Once I was in an upright position, I pushed myself off the bed and a sharp pain shot through my lower stomach. I paused, breathing through the pain and gripping my stomach. It lasted a few more seconds before it passed.

I continued to the bathroom without any pain. I finished, wiped, and stood to flush, and that was when I felt it. Warm liquid trickled down my inner thighs and I frowned, sure that I had peed myself. My bladder control was officially nonexistent.

I bent to look down at my legs and a flood of liquid spilled and splattered to the floor.

My water had broken.

“Shit,” I muttered to myself.

The first thing that crossed my mind was Dylan and how he was going to think my going into labor three weeks early was his fault. It was going to upset him, but it wasn’t like I could hide it .

Part of me didn’t want to wake him and tell him, but that wasn’t something I could do. There was no going back from a broken water. Baby boy was coming, and I needed his father to hold my hand through it.

I grabbed a washcloth from the linen cabinet, and wiped my legs. I tossed the cloth to the floor before walking out of the bathroom. I could see Dylan’s face from the light of the TV, he was facing me sleeping peacefully.

Panic instantly set in. The last five minutes had been the calm before the storm, and I was realizing I wasn’t ready to have the baby yet. I didn’t have anything ready. My overnight bag, the baby’s stuff—none of it was put together. Thankfully, Nina, our nanny, was in her room and would be able to care of Izzy while we were at the hospital.

My stomach hardened with a contraction and I gripped the sink, trying to breathe through it. It wasn’t too bad, but I knew they were going to get a lot worse. I had an easy pregnancy with Isabella, but labor had been a different story entirely. Even with an epidural, the pain had been terrible.

Once the contraction let up, I started moving. I had things I needed to get done. First, I needed to shower and shave my legs. I wasn’t going to bother waking Dylan until that was done.

Another contraction rolled over me when I was showering, and quickly, I ran the razor over my legs knowing I was running out of time. I had time to get a shower and get dressed before another contraction hit me. I paused and breathed through it. They were coming quicker which meant I needed to move faster.

Thirty minutes later I had our bags packed and I knew it was time to wake Dylan. I was more nervous about his reaction than I was about pushing an entire human out of my body.

It was still dark outside when I finally stood by Dylan’s side of the bed. I reached out to shake him, but my stomach cramped with another contraction. My breathing was loud and hard as I tried to stay calm through the pain. They were getting stronger. If I didn’t get Dylan up and out of the house, I feared I would have our son in the front seat of our SUV.

“Dylan, wake up,” I whispered. He didn’t move. I shook him and he grunted. “Dylan, you need to wake up,” I said louder as I shook him once again.

He shot up in bed with wide eyes, throwing his long, muscular legs over the side of the bed before I could even comprehend his movements. “What’s wrong?”

His sleep-filled eyes moved over my body and another contraction came, I grabbed at my stomach and bent over, breathing deeply and practicing the breathing technics I had learned in Lamaze class.

“What the fuck, Gwen? Please tell me you’re not in labor.”

I held up a finger to tell him to please hold until the contraction passed and once it did, I stood and faced him.

“I’m sorry, babe, but I am. My water broke about thirty minutes ago and my contractions are starting to get stronger.”

His eyes grew wide and panicked. “Thirty-fucking-minutes ago! Are shitting me, Gwen? Why the hell didn’t you wake me sooner?”

“Can we please have this conversation in the car? I’d like to have our baby with doctors and not on the floor of my brand-new SUV.”

“We’re not ready. We haven’t packed our hospital bag, the baby’s diaper bag, and what about Nina? Did you wake her and let her know we were leaving?”

I nodded, feeling another contraction coming.

“Breathe, Dylan. I packed the bags and Nina knows she has to wake Izzy and do breakfast with her. I just need you to get ready so we can go.”

His gaze found the bags by our bedroom door and his shock nose-dived into anger. “You let me sleep this entire time while you’ve been getting everything ready? God damnit, Gwen, I could have been helping.”

“I’m sorry, but you know how I am, I would have wanted to do it all myself anyway.”

“That’s not the fucking point. I should have been up with you.”

He pulled me to him. I knew he wasn’t angry at me. He was scared. This wasn’t supposed to be happening yet.

“It’s going to be okay, baby,” I said, smoothing my palms down his naked back. “It’s not that early.”

“Your due date is three weeks away. It’s too early. I never should have…”

“Stop it, you didn’t do this. You didn’t make me go into labor. Do you hear me?” I pulled away from him and looked him in the eye, but he wasn’t going to agree with me. “Get dressed. I’m going to go give Izzy a kiss and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

He nodded, kissed me hard, and then walked toward the closet. I took a deep breath and moved toward the bags.

“I swear if you touch those fucking bags, Gwen….” He called from inside the closet.

I sighed, leaving them behind. I took the short walk from our room to Izzy’s room and pushed her door open. She slept soundly and so much like Dylan. I smiled, taking in her position. She was on her belly, her hands tucked under her stomach and her butt in the air. I had given her a bath before bed and her unruly curly hair was going in all directions. Her long, thick dark lashes touched her plump cheeks, and her full pink lips were set in a sleepy pout. She was so damn adorable my heart could hardly handle it.

Part of me was sad. I thought I had a few more weeks with just the two of us before the baby would be here. I didn’t realize until right now that I wasn’t entirely ready to share myself with someone else yet. I felt cheated out of time with her.

Another contraction came, and I gripped my stomach and breathed through it. Once it eased off, I walked into her room, kissed my fingers, and touched her forehead softly. I didn’t want to wake her. She loved Nina, but my heart ached to know she would wake up to me not there. Another contraction came, and I squeezed the railing of the crib. This one took my breath away, and I bent over, clutching my stomach. It wasn’t lost on me that my contractions were coming stronger and closer together.

“I love you, baby girl,” I whispered when I could breathe normally again. I ran my fingers down her cheeks, and then backed out of her room.

Nina met me at the bottom of the stairs. “Gwen, are you sure everything is okay?” There was worry in her voice.

“It’s okay. It’s not that early.” I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince more, her or me.

She nodded. “You’ll call as soon as you can?”

“I will.”

I started toward the garage and another contraction came just as I made it there. I leaned into the door frame of the garage. A second later, Dylan was there, rubbing my back and whispering into my hair.

“Breathe, baby. Just breathe.”

I turned into him, pressing my forehead into his chest and resisting the urge to cry over the pain. It wasn’t this intense last time. It felt like a lifetime before it finally passed and I could lift my head.

“Over?” Dylan asked, his face pinched with worry.

I nodded. “Yes.” I took a deep breath.

“Have you started timing them?”

“No.” I didn’t tell him I didn’t need to. They were now coming two to three minutes apart.

He nodded and kissed my forehead. “You’re beautiful.”

I laughed. “Thank you.”

“Come on,” he helped me into the garage and buckled me into the SUV, kissing my forehead yet again because he closed my door and put our bags in the back.

We made it to the end of our long driveaway when yet another contraction came. They were coming two minutes apart and I knew my worst nightmare was about to come true. The hospital was twenty-five minutes away and I knew we weren’t going to make it.

“Dylan,” I croaked. A contraction squeezed my stomach. “I need you to drive faster.”

Without a word, he pressed on the gas. “We’re going to make it, baby. Just breathe.”

The pressure on my cervix was getting intense and the urge to push was overwhelming. I unbuckled my seat belt and twisted in my seat.

Dylan panicked. “What are you doing?”

“Getting in the back.” I climbed into the back seat.

I found the diaper bag in the very back and pulled it into the backseat with me. I found the baby nose sucker I packed earlier and tucked it next to me before stretching out along the length of the seat. There was one of Izzy’s blankets, and I slipped it under me before pushing my maternity pants and underwear off.

“Why are you getting undressed?” Dylan called from the front seat, his eyes peeking into the rearview mirror every second. “We’re, like, fifteen minutes away.”

I reached down between my legs and my fingertips brushed my baby’s head. “I don’t know want to alarm you, but I can feel your son’s head.”

“What?” He turned to look back at me and the SUV swerved slightly. “Fuck. I’m pulling over.”

“No. Just keep driving.”

“Gwen, I need to be back there with you.”

“Please, Dylan, I need you to keep driving. Call the hospital and let them know we’re coming.”

The Bluetooth on the SUV picked up and I could hear him quickly dialing the hospital. There was a pause before the sounds of ringing filled the space.

“Oh, God,” I moaned loudly as another contraction took my breath away.

The pain was so intense I felt like I was going to throw up and pass out at the same time.

“Breathe, baby,” Dylan cooed. “Remember to breathe.” His voice was soothing. “You’re the strongest woman, I know, Gwen. We’ve been through hell and back. You can do this, baby. Push when you feel the urge.”

I nodded and took the position I remembered all too well with Isabella. It wasn’t long until I felt another contraction and this time I bared down. Pushing came naturally and my body knew exactly what to do.

“That’s my girl,” Dylan said, watching me from the rearview mirror. “Push, baby.” I did and he began to count. “One, two, three, four.”

I cried out when the contraction subsided. “Oh my God.”

“You’re doing amazing, Gwen. Tell me when you have to push again. We’re eight minutes away.”

“I can’t do this. It hurts so much,” I cried.

“Yes, you can, Gwen. Do you hear me? Yes, you can. We’re right around the corner.”

I screamed, pushing as hard as I could. My vagina felt like it was on fire, but I pushed against the pain. Reaching down, the baby’s head pressed against my palm. I couldn’t be sure but I felt like this is what they meant when they said the baby was crowning. I pushed again, one giant push, and then his head was out and I was holding the back of his head in my hand.

I wasn’t a doctor, but I knew I needed to push again to get him out so I could clear his nose and mouth.

“His heads out, Dylan! His heads out!” I growled through another round of intense pain.

“You’re fucking amazing, Gwen. So fucking amazing.”

I pushed around a groan and finally, my baby boy was free. I caught him in both hands and pulled him to my chest. I grabbed the baby nose sucker and started to clear out his mouth and nose. I was in awe. He was the most beautiful, wrinkly baby boy in the world. His hair was dark and full, his eyes were a dark navy blue. His lips and nose were mine, but everything else screamed Dylan.

“We’re here.” Dylan slammed on the brakes in front of the emergency room door. He was telling both me and whoever he was talking to on the other end of the phone.

“He’s here, Dylan, and he’s beautiful.” I continued to clean out his mouth and nose with the baby sucker, but it didn’t seem to be working.

Dylan opened the door with love and worry on his face. “He’s not breathing!” I panicked. The terror in my voice was raw and fierce. “He’s not breathing!” I repeated.

“I need someone now!” Dylan roared as the doors opened to the emergency room.

And then there were doctors and nurses surrounded the car.

“He’s not breathing.” I cried.

They cut the umbilical cord and took him from my arms before pulling me from the back seat and onto a stretcher.

“Where are they taking him?” Tears rolled down my cheeks.

Everything felt chaotic and I couldn’t see my son.

“Up to the NICU,” a nurse at my side answered.

I tried to sit up. “I want to go with him.”

With a soothing hand against my chest, she pushed me back. “I promise you he’s in the best hands, but right now we need to check on you.”

He couldn’t be alone. I could handle being alone, but not my baby boy.

“Dylan, please go with him.”

He paused and stared down at me in horror. He was caught between leaving me and being with our son.

“I’ll be fine. I promise. Go with our baby.”

He nodded and leaned down, kissing me gently on the forehead. “I love you so much.”

I cupped his cheek. “I love you too. Now go.”

And then he was gone, and I was left with doctors and nurses I didn’t know. I was put in a room where the doctor examined me and delivered the placenta before telling me everything else looked perfectly fine.

“You did amazing, Mrs. Russell. Natural birth is hard enough in a hospital, let alone in the stress of the backseat of a SUV.”

“Thank you.” I wasn’t going to tell him that if given the chance, I would most definitely pick an epidural over natural. “How is my son?”

He smiled. “Perfectly healthy. He was breathing by the time he got up to the NICU. Your husband will be down shortly with him.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, happy emotional tears rushing to my eyes. “Thank you so much.”

FORTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER, Dylan came in pushing our baby boy in a clear bassinet. He was swaddled in a powder blue blanket with a white knit cap covering his tiny head.

Dylan lifted him and laid him in my arms and everything that had happened up until that moment drifted away. I smiled down at his perfect nose and swiped at a lone tear that trekked down my cheek.

“He’s perfect,” Dylan whispered before planting a soft kiss on my cheek. “Thank you.”

I chuckled through my tears. “It takes two.”

He shook his head, a serious expression taking over his face. “No, baby, that was all you.” He moved closer, hugging me and the baby to him. “I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

He grinned at him. “But it all worked out.”

“Thankfully.” He sighed.

“You’re never going to have sex with me again, are you?” I asked, jokingly.

“Once I get over the trauma of watching you give birth in the backseat, I’ll think about it.” He winked.

I laughed.

“By the time six weeks is up you won’t be able to keep your hands off of me.”

“It’s going to be hell,” he said, sliding his palms down his face. “I might be dangerous by the time I get my hands on you again.”

“Oh?” I lifted a brow.

He chuckled. “Remember how crazy I was after Izzy?”

“I do. It was wonderful. I love you crazy and wild.”

He leaned down and kissed me. “No, you love me hard and fast.”

I laughed, kissing him once again and feeling relief that things had gone as smoothly as they had. While Ezra Anthony Russell came into our lives in a rush of chaos and happiness, I was looking forward to getting home and calmly relaxing with my little family.

And when six weeks finally came and the doctor gave me the okay to be sexually active again, I hoped my husband didn’t hold back as we worked on baby number three.

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TYING THE KNOT

MELISSA MARINO

CALLIE

AFTER A YEAR of planning the most spectacular wedding, the day was finally here. No one was expecting anything less from the top Chicago hotel and restauranteur, and my soon-to-be husband, Aaron.

People should learn to expect the unexpected.

Today was our wedding day, but we were about as far away from cold Chicago as you could be in December.

My burgundy hair blew across my face from the soft breeze coming off the ocean. If paradise was a place on earth it was found in Wailea, Hawaii, a breathtaking resort town in South Maui. The view from the balcony I was on was like something from a travel brochure. Both Aaron and I knew we didn’t want some overblown wedding. Based on his career, and the fact I preferred more intimate events, we knew our nuptials would take place outside of Chicago.

My eyes drifted to the turquoise water, the calmness of the waves, the smoothness of the sand that had not yet been flawed by the day. I couldn’t imagine this being a real place, let alone this being the place where a new chapter of my life was beginning.

How did I end up here? How was this my life?

Eight years ago, I applied for a job to be a nanny to a single dad of a four-year old. That was how I ended up here.

That one act. One chance I took. It changed everything.

What started as a fling quickly morphed into so much more. Although we fought it, and even separated for a short time, we couldn’t stay apart. Through careers, hot tub evenings, Fruity Pebbles French toast brunches, and now raising a preteen, we made it.

Now I was about to become Mrs. Aaron Matthews. I was also going to be Delilah’s stepmom, although I had already been the only mom she had ever known.

“All right,” Evelyn, my best friend and maid of honor, said stepping onto the balcony with her arms full. “I have bottled water, ginger ale, electrolyte drinks, crackers, bananas and toast.”

“I’m fine,” I said.

“It’s my job to make sure. You were barfing enough on that sunset cruise last night to dehydrate a horse. I haven’t seen you that sick since you ate that questionable chicken at Taste of Chicago.”

Evelyn set everything down on the small table next to me before she picked up the bottled water, unscrewed it, and handed it to me with a stern expression.

“Thank you,” I said, taking it from her and sipping. “I really am fine, though. Motion sickness with a side of pre-wedding nerves and my stomach revolted.”

“It’s a good thing I’m an expert at pre-wedding jitters.”

Evelyn had come a long way since her days as a wedding planner’s assistant. She advanced to full-fledged wedding planner followed by being owner of one of the most in-demand wedding planning companies in Chicago.

“This is how it’s going to go,” Evelyn said while scanning her tablet that had mysteriously appeared. “Hair and makeup are arriving at one. Delilah and Mrs. Matthews will be here around that same time. Photographer will arrive at two for our photos before hopping over to the boys.”

I heard every word she said, but I didn’t process any of it. None of it mattered at this point because the day would unfold how it was supposed to. Plus, I knew she had it under control.

She stepped in front of me, giving me a once over. “You need to get out of those ratty pajamas you’ve had since you were single and get into your wedding day pajamas.”

“Why do I need to get out of pajamas to get into other pajamas?”

Evelyn gasped. “Because it’s what brides do! We all wear matching pajamas to create a sense of togetherness while we get ready, so the photographs reflect clearly planned, but appearing impromptu moments. Geez. How do you not know this? You are the most anti-bride I have ever worked with.”

“Ah,” I said chuckling. “You aren’t working with me, Blondie. I’m sure the brides you do work with want all the pajamas and confetti and glitter you can provide for them. I’m not one of them.”

“Confetti and glitter, Callie? Do you have any idea what kind of mess that makes, both on apparel and decor? Plus, it doesn’t lend itself to any sense of elegance. Confetti and glitter are for a preteen’s unicorn birthday party and not for an upscale wedding. Plus, if—”

A knock on the door interrupted her and sent her rushing to answer to it.

“Hey, Handsome,” she said as Abel Matthews, her boyfriend and Aaron’s brother, walked in with large bouquet of flowers in a crystal vase.

“Delivery for the bride from the groom,” he said before leaning down to plant a kiss on Evelyn’s lips. “Hey there, Gorgeous,” he whispered to her.

“You two have been together for 5 years and still can’t keep your hands off each other,” I said.

“Look who’s talking,” Abel said setting the vase on the table. “You and Aaron act like two horny teenagers.”

He wasn’t wrong.

“How’s he doing?” I asked.

“He’s walking around with a goofy smile and that nervous pace he does. Marshall took him to go get breakfast. I’m sure once he gets a couple Bloody Marys in him, he’ll be okay, especially after the two screwdrivers he already had this morning.”

Before I could say anything, Evelyn beat me to it.

She smacked his arm. “You guys!”

“What?” He shrugged.

“You guys can’t show up for the wedding reeking of booze and appearing sloppy drunk,” she snapped. “It’s tacky.”

“We agreed no drinking before the ceremony,” I said. “It was Aaron’s idea.”

“A dumb one,” Abel said under his breath.

“Seriously?” Evelyn said.

“I was only kidding. I was joking. If you aren’t allowing a morning cocktail to take the edge off, I thought a good laugh would be a good replacement.”

“That was the best you could do for a good laugh?” I asked. “I expected more from you, Abel.”

He was the brother I never had. We teased each other relentlessly, got on each other’s nerves, but would fight any person who dared to cross one of us.

He brushed his hand across his dark beard while shaking his head in disappointment. “I’m out of my element here. Plus being a best man comes with a lot of responsibility.”

“Here is some more responsibility,” I said handing him a card I had placed in my pocket earlier. “See this gets to Aaron.”

“Will do,” he said. “Are you feeling better after last night’s puke cruise? Your skin, that had that lovely hue of green, seems to have returned to normal.”

“I’m so glad you’ll officially be my brother-in-law in a few hours so I can tell you what a dummy you are.”

“Come on, Cal,” Evelyn said. “Legalities never stopped you from telling Abel when he said something stupid before.”

Abel smacked Evelyn’s ass and bent down to kiss her. My best friend and Aaron’s brother were a match made in heaven.

Abel nuzzled her neck for a moment before heading toward the door. “I have important documents to deliver,” he said waving the envelope above him. “Something is shaking around in here. See you beautiful ladies at the altar.”

“The arch!” Evelyn and I said at the same time before bursting into laughter.

“What was moving around in the envelope?” She asked once the door shut.

I shrugged. “A card.”

“And?”

“And nothing.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Look at me. Why are you lying?”

It never failed. She could see right through me every single time.

“How do you do that?” I asked.

She nodded knowing exactly what I was talking about. “It’s a gift I have.”

“Fine,” I sighed. “It was a mushy-love card for Aaron and a few special photos.”

“Special photos?” She asked confused, her eyes moving around in contemplation before they grew wide “Are you serious?”

Panic began to creep in when I responded. “What?”

“Did you have boudoir photos done and not tell me?”

Whew.

I exhaled. “Yes. Okay, yes, I did.”

“I can’t believe you did that without telling me. It’s so unlike you to do something like that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I mean, come on Cal,” she said trying to suppress laughter. “Your idea of sexy is unhooking an extra button on your blouse. It isn’t taking photos in lingerie which striking provocative poses.”

“I can be sexy!”

“In your own way, I suppose.”

“Aaron happens to think I’m very sexy. I can be scrubbing toilets while wearing a burlap sack and he’d still want to get it on.”

She glanced at the clock before clapping her hands together. “You’ll have to show them to me when we get home. I understand why you’d want to show Aaron first.”

Yup. Aaron gets to see first.

Little did she know, she couldn’t always tell when I was lying.

“But for now,” she continued. “Why don’t you go take a nice, long-but-not-too-long relaxing bath.”

“How about I take a nice, long-but-not-too-long relaxing shower?” I asked. “If I get in the tub, I’ll probably fall asleep and drowning on your wedding day is frowned upon.”

I made my way to the bathroom but stopped at the table where the flowers Abel brought were placed. A small envelope was nestled between an overflowing arrangement of pink and red roses, white orchids, and blue irises. I plucked the envelope out and pulled out the card. In Aaron’s handwriting it read:

“Thank you for being my bride and making me the happiest man alive.”

My heart fluttered in that familiar way whenever Aaron let me know how special I was to him. He had told me, shown me, in a million other ways over the years, and it never got old.

“Oh good. You’re still on your way to the shower,” Evelyn said with sarcasm. “Please keep drinking fluids and take a bite of something.”

I responded with a nod as I made my way to the bathroom with an odd feeling of gratitude coming over me. Most brides have their mother, or at least some family, around them on their wedding day. There would be excited tears, words of wisdom and wishes of bright future.

I wouldn’t have any of that from my family because I simply didn’t have any.

My mother and I had been estranged for years. I never knew my father. If I had any siblings, I didn’t know of them. For so many years—most of my life—it was me and me alone.

Until I met Aaron and then I knew what family really was.

Family wasn’t by blood or shared DNA. It was who embraced you in every sense and never let go. They were the ones who would run into the fire to save you just as you would do for them. It was never being alone, always have a place to call home and people who loved you even when you didn’t know if you loved yourself.

Aaron and his family gave me that. Evelyn gave me that. Some of them were related. Some found each other by fate. In the end, I was surrounded by more love than the word ‘family’ could ever hold.

By the time I came out of the bathroom, Delilah and Aaron’s mom, Leslie Matthews, had arrived.

Delilah was on the love seat, her eyes not moving from her cell phone she was frantically typing away on.

“Hello there, Delilah,” I said in a loud voice.

I had to deal with this daily and I knew if my tone didn’t reach the exact octave that an almost 13-year-old girl could hear then she would say she didn’t hear me.

“Hey,” she replied not looking at me.

“Delilah,” Leslie said sternly. “What did your dad tell you about being on your phone?”

“I’m not on it,” she whined before tossing it on the cushion next to her. “I wanted to send a text, but the Wi-Fi here sucks.”

I tilted my head and crossed my arms across my chest as I waited for her to look at me. When she did, I raised my eyebrows at her, a look I had mastered over the years to let her know I was about to have words with her.

She sighed and stood, walking over to me before wrapping her arms around my waist. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “Happy wedding day.”

I kissed the top of her head which was inching closer and closer to me by the day. “Thank you and please don’t say anything sucks in front of your grandma.”

“Alright, ladies,” Evelyn clapped. “Your pajamas are laid out on the bed. I just got a text that the hair and makeup team has arrived. Photographer will be soon after so let’s get moving.”

“Auntie Evelyn?” Delilah asked. “There are literally three of us. Why do we need a team of anything?”

I snorted while Evelyn pointed her finger toward the bedroom. “Go.”

“You make a good point,” I whispered to Delilah.

The next 2 hours were a blur of curling irons, makeup brushes and flash photography. While chaos seemed to be coming off everyone around me, I was at ease. I knew the professionals, including Evelyn, had everything under control to make me picture-perfect and on time. Plus, I had waited for this day for so long, I wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of enjoying it.

My hair was styled in loose, shiny curls with a crown floral headpiece of white orchids, lily of the valley and roses, secured on top. My makeup was simple but had me glowing. By the time I slipped into my gown—an ivory lace V-neck sheath dress—I’d never been more ready for the walk down the sandy aisle.

Evelyn and Delilah looked stunning in similarly styled moss green dresses, while Leslie was as elegant as ever in a tea-length two-piece apricot-colored outfit.

“Okay, ladies,” Evelyn said, holding the door open with her hip. “It’s time. Grab your bouquets and let’s get this wedding moving. Delilah, go grab the elevator and spit out your gum. Mrs. Matthews, you have lipstick on your teeth. Callie, you left your vows on the dresser in the bedroom.”

“Thank you for remembering, Ev,” I said rushing to the bedroom.

The vows I had written were exactly where Evelyn said they were. I folded the paper a few times so I could conceal it under my bouquet. My eyes drifted to my reflection and although I did so many times since being made-up and ready, it still didn’t seem possible.

I jumped when I heard the door slam and rushed, as much as I could in a form-fitting wedding gown, back into the other room.

And there was no one there.

I grabbed my bouquet and exited the room thinking they were in the hallway or at the elevator down the hall, but they weren’t.

Three ladies who were all supposed to make sure I kept myself together today and they forgot me.

Without knowing exactly where I was going, and not wanting to accidentally run into Aaron before the ceremony, I decided to stay put. Once they exited the elevator or whatnot, they’d realize, and someone would come fetch me.

I turned the handle of the hotel room door and it had locked behind me. Now I was in a real pickle.

A pickle. A cucumber.

I have no idea why it popped into my head at that moment when I hadn’t thought about it in so long. The time Delilah found my toy ‘cucumber’ that I had bought as a joke.

I was newly hired as Delilah’s nanny and was moving my things into Aaron’s home when Delilah found it.

We were chatting in the kitchen when Delilah wandered in. “Callie, can I play with this?” she asked.

“Play with what?” I asked, trying to see what she was holding.

Both Aaron and I approached her, and as we got closer, my heart leaped to my throat when I recognized the box she was holding.

“Delilah, can I have that back, please?” I asked.

I went to go take it from her hands before Aaron could see what it was, but she yanked her arms back, bringing the box closer into herself.

“Where did you get that box?” Aaron questioned

“Callie’s room. She has toys in her boxes.”

Luckily with the box held close to her body, Aaron wasn’t able to see what kind of toy it was. If he could, he would’ve seen his daughter was holding my Rabbit vibrator in her hands. I was dying. It became harder to breathe, and I concluded all of my internal organs were shutting down. My body was trying to save me the humiliation of Aaron finding out I brought a vibrator into his house. I was going to get fired and kicked out at once for being a pervert.

“Callie’s things are not for you to be going through, young lady,” Aaron said sternly. “Now, go back upstairs and put that back where you found it right now.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “I’m heading upstairs right now and I’ll take it.”

I moved toward Delilah again to retrieve the box, but she jerked away again. Then, to my horror, she turned the box around and held it up to Aaron.

“But, Daddy, I don’t have one of these. Callie has a toy cucumber, and I don’t have one this big for my play kitchen. Plus, it has buttons to do stuff.”

I was frozen in complete and utter shame. Aaron’s eyes squinted at the box trying to identify what it was, and then once the realization hit, his eyes enlarged to the size of baseballs, possibly softballs.

“Give that back to Callie now,” he shouted.

Without waiting for her to decide, he grabbed the box out of her hands. He shoved it at me, crushing the box against my chest.

“Be right back,” I said, running out of the room.

I couldn’t believe I wasn’t fired on the spot, but it certainly gave us a laugh over the years.

“Oh my gosh. There you are,” Evelyn shouted. “What are you doing? Come on!”

“I…I went and then the door shut and—” I said moving quickly down the hallway.

“Someone could have seen you. Aaron could have seen you.”

“I know.”

I was breathless by the time I hustled down the hallway. Evelyn had the elevator waiting and I jumped inside.

“Now you’re shiny,” she said, opening her case of provisions and retrieving small squares of something that looked like tissue paper.

She pressed the paper against my face while mumbling something about being off her game because how was she expected to be a best friend, a maid of honor and a wedding coordinator all at the same time?

“Do you know how stressful today is for me?” She said, blotting her own her own face with a new stack of tissues.

“I’m sorry my wedding is causing you to be under so much pressure, Blondie. However, I promise when it’s your wedding, I’ll make sure to tell you the same,” I said.

After taking a deep breath, she began to laugh. “I’m holding you to that. I’m sorry for snapping. I just want everything perfect for you today.”

The elevator buzzed and opened to the marble floor of the lobby. Before I exited, I turned to her. “There isn’t anything that can happen that can’t make this day perfect.”

AARON

I’D WAITED eight years for this day. From the moment I saw her, I knew she would be my wife. I fought it at first, knowing that I couldn’t get involved with my daughter’s nanny, but it wasn’t long before we both confessed our true feelings. It hadn’t always been easy. In fact, there were times I didn’t know if we’d make it. Callie taking her place as Delilah’s mother, in every practical sense, building her career as I continued to reach new levels with mine, exes, and the loss of my dad a year ago were all faced together.

I paced the length of the marble floor in the lobby of the hotel we were staying at. Delilah was on her way down so we could do a first look photo-op together. I knew I’d be glad one day to have it captured by a photographer, but in that moment, I wanted it to be just me and my daughter.

My hand tapped at against one pocket of my pants that had a handkerchief made from one of my dad’s shirts. It was a small way to feel like he was there with me. In that same pocket was the vows I’d written that I’d be reciting to Callie soon.

In my other pocket was a photo Callie had placed in a card and given to me earlier. It was one of the most beautiful pictures ever taken and I wanted it with me when Callie and I married.

“Hey” said a familiar voice.

I turned around and my daughter was approaching me as flashes from a camera went off nearby.

She looked so pretty, and so grown up, I didn’t know if I would be able to hold back the tears. Everything from her long, white blond hair pinned up all fancy with flowers scattered atop, to her dress made her appear more like young lady than a little girl.

“Give me a hug, baby girl,” I said opening my arms.

She rolled her eyes before appeasing me. “Don’t cry, okay?”

“I’m not,” I sniffled.

“Then why did your face get all scrunchy when you saw me and your voice sound all weird?”

She broke our hug, placing her hands on her hips. “Seriously, Dad. Save the tears. If you want to cry, then wait until see you Callie because you’re going to freak out with how gorg she looks.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah,” she nodded as one of the small flowers from her hair fell out. Delilah stared at it on the floor “Crap. Don’t tell Auntie Evelyn I lost a flower.”

I chuckled knowing exactly how Evelyn was at details. “I promise I won’t tell.”

“You think we’re done here?”

“I’m sure the photographer got his first look pictures.”

“Good. I’m going back up to Callie’s room. My feet hurt in these shoes already and I want to sit until I don’t have to.”

“Hold on,” I said grabbing her hand before she could get away. “I wanted to have a quick chat with you before the ceremony.”

“Okay. What?”

I was hoping for a special father-daughter moment, but 12-year-olds would rather do pretty much anything else.

“I wanted to tell you how much I love you and even though things are about to change, I will always be here for you,” I said.

“I know,” she said, kicking her shoes off. “You told me hundreds of times.”

“And,” I continued. “It’s not going to be you and me plus Callie anymore. It’s going to be me, Callie, and you. A family. Forever.”

She rolled her eyes again. “It’s already been that way. We’ve been a family for as long as I can remember so literally nothing is changing.”

Not only was she right, but like she had always been, was wise beyond her years. She continually taught me things and even though at this age there was an undercurrent of passive-aggressiveness, she wasn’t afraid to express how little I knew. Delilah didn’t know yet that one day she would realize I was smarter than she thought. I didn’t know when it happened for me and my dad, but one day it became clear he wasn’t old-fashioned or dumb.

I wanted to say more to her, but the words didn’t come. Callie was also better at it than I was. She knew how to talk to her and make her listen with less drama than she had with me. She ran interference in a subtle way; often times neither Delilah nor I knowing she was playing both sides of the field.

Sometimes you had to know when to say when.

“Go on back to the room and rest your feet,” I said. “I’ll see you soon.”

I wanted to hug her once last time, but she took off, racing across the lobby, swinging her shoes in her hand.

The little girl who thought I created the moon and the stars, and never wanted to stop holding my hand, was becoming her own person. It left me with a pain in my chest that the older she got the further she was getting away from me.

“Love you, Daddy!” She said before disappearing into the elevator.

Once the elevator door closed, then I let the tears happen.

And the tears didn’t stop any time after.

I wiped away tears when I saw my mom being escorted down the aisle by my best friend, Marshall as I waited beneath a large arch adorned with palm fronds and plumerias.

I used the handkerchief in my pocket when Evelyn and Delilah followed, holding hands, and smiling.

By the time I got my first glimpse of Callie, emerging from behind a floral backdrop wall, there was no holding back.

Men were always taught that crying only showed weakness.

I said screw that.

Nothing could have prepared me for how stunningly perfect she looked as she moved her way toward me with my brother Abel beside her. Everything blurred around me, the swaying palm trees, the seabirds flying above and even my most loved because Callie was all I could see.

“Mind if I join you?” She whispered as she reached me.

“It’s about time you got here. I’ve been waiting forever.”

Abel handed her off to me and joined the rest of my family who were seated next to us. A minister began talking and before I even had a chance to be nervous it was time for our vows.

“Callie? Would you like to start?” The minister asked.

She nodded and began. “Growing up, I didn’t dream of the fairytales and the happily-ever-after. I dreamt of creating a life I was proud of, one in which there wasn’t a constant struggle for money or attention. One in which that included friends and adventures. One that made me feel strong enough to teach kids they were good enough, no matter the circumstances. And one that maybe included a man who saw all the best and worst parts of me but loved all of me anyway.”

“I got everything I dreamed of, but I also got the fairytale.”

“There really is no other word for it. Everyone here with us today knows how we met, was there with us in the beginning. They know the story as well as we do, and it belongs on a bookshelf.”

“But the part the fairy tale got wrong was you have to fight for the happily ever after. It isn’t as simple as fighting off dragons or finding the right shoe that fits that gets you there. It’s every day, and it’s work, both together and individually. We’ve had to climb mountains, and deal with more adversity than most couples do in a lifetime, and yet, here we are.”

“I promise to keep dreaming for both myself, and for us together. I promise to keep our family my utmost priority, and to be the best mother I can be. I promise to keep making you laugh, encouraging you and loving you the only way I know how. I love you for now and to the very end of our story.”

The minster handed her a ring and she slipped it onto my finger before gripping my hand tight.

I didn’t know how I was going to follow that up. The words I had written paled in comparison to what she had said, but as one hand squeezed hers, my other held the paper with my promises which I needed to share.

I unfolded the paper and read to her—to the universe—my vows to her.

“Calliope. You came into my life when I least expected it and have kept me on my toes ever since. You were the breath of fresh air, the color, and light my world was so desperate for, but didn’t know existed. For that, I thank you because in many ways, you saved me.

With a thriving career and amazing daughter, I had what most would envy. What people didn’t know was I wanted more. I wanted to share my life with someone and have them be a person my daughter could look up to. I wanted a dynamic woman who wasn’t afraid to speak her mind and be completely authentic. I want a woman to push me out of my comfort zone, call me out when I was being foolish and show Delilah not to take any bullshit from any partner. I couldn’t even conceive it was possible to have it all, so, I didn’t. I lived my life one day into the next, trying to be the best dad I could, without even trying to find a companion.

But you, my soulmate, found me anyway.

I realize the term ‘soulmates’ is often clouded by cliché, but when two souls who complement each other so completely what else could it possibly be? Terms like ‘soulmates’ and ‘love’ and ‘destiny’ are thrown around without merit, without knowing the weight in the words. I stand here today knowing exactly the gravity of my words and promises.

I vow to lift you when you’re down, and not leave coffee cups scattered all over the house. I promise to turn off all the lights if I’m the last one to bed, and let you lay your head on my chest after a long day. I swear to support your dreams, encourage your free spirit and remember to take the garbage out on time.

Most of all, I promise to be thankful for the life we already have and the one that will continue to grow because of my boundless love for you.”

I took the ring for Callie from the minister and slid it on her ring finger next to her engagement ring.

She beamed at me with teary eyes and complete devotion, everything I was experiencing as well. Without being told to, I reached for her face and brought her close to kiss. The minister continued while we continued to kiss, oblivious to anything but us. Then without warning, Callie let out a high-pitched squeak and pulled away at the same time as I felt something wet running down the side of my face.

“Holy” Evelyn shouted.

“Shit!” Abel said. “They just got shit on!”

He wasn’t wrong. Callie’s jaw dropped as she inspected the length of her arm which had obvious signs of bird, or some other flying animal, poop. I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand and found the same excrements.

A normal bride would burst into tears.

A normal groom would panic.

We were anything but normal.

We laughed. We opened mouth laughed, without sound, until we were breathlessly hunched over, and Evelyn interrupted with a stack of anti-bacterial wipes.

There was nothing more apropos for us. Shit on us and life kept going.

We disinfected ourselves and went right back to kissing until music began to play.

What followed was an incredible afternoon of drinks, speeches, and dancing. When it came time for dinner, we all sat at one long table on the beach lined with candles while the nearby palm trees were hung with Christmas lights. Evelyn had outdone herself seeing to it that no detail was missed. That woman was the sister I never had, and if Abel ever did anything to mess up, he was aware of the wrath he would receive.

Dinner was a feast of arugula salad with a ginger dressing, scallops, ahi tacos, braised short ribs with coconut jasmine rice and mango ice cream. As the sun set, all I wanted was to take my wife to our honeymoon suite and be alone.

“Can we please make an exit soon?” She whispered to me. “I don’t want to be rude, but—”

I stood from the table before she could finish and lifted a glass of champagne. “You all know just how much you mean to Callie and me. We couldn’t have asked for more. Everything from your support, to being here, and the love you’ve surrounded us with, we thank you from the bottom of our hearts. And while you all seem to be enjoying yourselves, Callie and I are going to sneak off for the rest of the night and let this little group of party animals keep at it.”

We all clinked glasses and after Callie and I did, she winked at me.

“Well done,” she said.

“Let’s get you out of here, Mrs. Matthews.”

We got no pushback for bowing out early. It was only hugs and well wishes. I expected nothing less from this family.

When we got to our suite, I lifted her over the threshold per tradition with her giggling as I gently set her down.

“Do you mind if I shower?” She asked. “I’ve been sweaty and pooped on and I’m not even sure how to find my skin under all this makeup.”

“Absolutely. You take all the time you need as long as you let me get in there first to do the same.”

“Deal,” she replied as she reached up on her toes to kiss me.

“Calliope?”

“Yes, Aaron?”

“We’re totally married.”

“That we are. It’s a trip, isn’t it? I think it will take me a long time to get used to it.”

I started to unbutton my shirt before making my way to the bathroom. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure I remind you often.”

After I showered, she took hers while I pretended to patient, but was anything but. It wasn’t like this was our first time or anything. We’d had sex thousands of times, but there was something different now. In fact, so much was different now from only a few months ago.

She emerged from the bathroom in a full-length, almost sheer, white negligée that skimmed her body showing previews of her curves and all my favorite parts. Her collarbone, the dip between her breasts and the spot where her waist hit her hips. I intended to pay long and close attention to them all night, or until our bodies gave out from exhaustion.

“Sorry it took me so long,” she said, crossing the room to join me. “There were like a hundred pins holding my hair and the crown in place along with a layer of makeup that took multiple rounds to remove.”

I wrapped my arms around her waist, my fingertips sliding across the smooth fabric of lingerie. “You’re always worth the wait.”

I bent down to kiss her, lingering on her lips before sliding my tongue in between to meet hers. “Always the sexiest,” I muttered against her lips.

She pulled away slightly with a giggle. “Evelyn told me earlier I don’t know how to be sexy.”

“Evelyn doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Besides, I’m the only one with an opinion on the matter,” I said, placing a kiss on her shoulder. “And I say you are the sexiest fucking woman I’ve ever known.”

She nuzzled against my bare chest before gazing up to me. “Thank you for the flowers.”

“You’re welcome. Did you like the arrangement I created? I told the florist exactly what colors to use,” I said with a wink.

“I absolutely did. The pinks and blue flowers with the Baby’s breath were almost a giveaway, but I don’t think anyone thought anything of it.”

“While we are on the subject of gifts,” I said. “Thank you for the card, but more importantly the picture inside the card.”

Her cheeks flushed. “Amazing, isn’t it?”

“When did you get it done?”

“I went to the doctor a few days before we left,” She explained. “Are you upset I did it without you there?”

“Not a chance.”

How could I be anything but ecstatic. I saw a little glimpse of a part of my future in that photo. A piece of Callie and me.

“I can’t believe we were able to keep this a secret. I thought me being sick on the boat and not drinking alcohol was obvious, but again, no one seemed to notice.”

“You hid it well. I’m glad it was only between us these couple months.

“Anyways,” She took my hand and began to guide to me to the bedroom. “What do you say about making this whole marriage thing official?”

“I’m right there with you.”

I loved everything about this woman.

And I loved that she was now carrying our baby.

About the Author

Melissa Marino is a full-time writer and part-time Storm Trooper collector. When she’s not writing, you can find her watching Friends reruns, mastering her cupcake frosting swirl, and hunting for the perfect red lipstick. Melissa lives in Chicago with her son and very opinionated dachshund.

You can find her at:

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FALLING FOR A FRIEND

A SOMETIMES IN LOVE NOVELLA

MELONIE JOHNSON

CHAPTER ONE

AS ALWAYS, Luna Ibarra rose before dawn. She awoke in silence, no need for an alarm. Her internal body clock had established this pattern long ago. She dressed quickly in the shadowy gray haze of her bedroom, no need for light. She knew where each and every item was. From the pair of jeans tossed over a chair in the corner, to the sweater hanging on a hook by the door.

She left her room and headed down the hall, the old farmhouse boards creaking with a comforting familiarity beneath her feet. Luna liked familiarity. Liked knowing where each and every thing was in her life. Including that which was most precious to her. She paused outside the bedroom closest to her own. The door stood slightly ajar, and she grinned as the soft buzzing sigh of tiny snores reached her ears.

The snores slightly increased in volume when she nudged the door open wider. Her smile broadened as she crept toward her son’s bed. He was on his side, curled like a puppy, knees tucked beneath his chin.

“Toby,” Luna whispered. The little snores continued unabated, chest rising and falling rhythmically.

“Toby,” she whispered again, closer to his ear.

His eyes flickered but remained closed. Suddenly the snoring got louder, his breathing less even.

Luna clucked her tongue. “Tobias.” She didn’t bother to lower her voice this time as she said his full name. “I know you’re awake.”

“No, I’m not,” Toby insisted, voice petulant. “I’m sleeping.”

“Oh?” Luna fought a smile as she asked, “You’re sleeping?”

Eyes squeezed shut, he nodded.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Luna eased down onto the mattress. “Come on now, mijo,” she said, unable to resist brushing the hair away from his brow. Still baby soft and silky, it had begun to darken in recent years, no longer the pale blond it had been when he was a towheaded toddler. “It’s time to get up. You’re coming with me to the market today.”

“Do I have to?”

“No,” she said, “but if you don’t, you’ll miss story time.”

Toby’s eyes snapped open, the irises a startling, bright robin’s egg blue. A gift from his father, a man he would never know. A man Luna didn’t want him to know. A man who didn’t want to know him. And that was fine. Toby was hers and hers alone. It had been Luna’s choice. The way she’d wanted it. And she was grateful she’d been able to choose. The way anyone in her position should be able to choose.

Her son shifted around in his covers, more like a puppy than ever as he eagerly wiggled into a sitting position. “Is Mr. Mark going to be there?”

“Probably.” The hopefulness in his voice tugged at her heart even as she pretended nonchalance. She shrugged. “But there’s only one way to find out.”

“Okay,” he grumbled. “I’ll get up.”

“That’s my little man,” she said and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I’m not little.” The grumble turned into a growl.

Luna nodded solemnly. “You’re right.” She agreed. “You’re not little. You’re a big boy now. Which means I should leave you alone to get ready.” She stood. “I’m going to start loading the truck. Meet me by the greenhouse in ten minutes?”

“Okay.” He yawned.

“And wear something warm, the mornings are getting colder.”

“Okay.”

“And don’t forget to brush your teeth.”

“Okay,” he said, in the annoyed voice of a thoroughly aggrieved nine-year-old.

Luna bit her cheek again. She knew Toby hated it when he thought she was laughing at him. But she wasn’t laughing at her son. She just found his grumpiness—like everything else about him—adorable. She paused at the door of his room. “Ten minutes.” Before her crabby puppy could bark at her again, she saluted him and headed downstairs.

Outside, the sun was inching over the horizon, turning the tall prairie grass lining the east meadow into a sea of glimmering waves. Luna paused to pull her phone out of her pocket and snap a few pictures. A gust of wind blew across the field, lifting the thick curtain of her dark hair and whistling down her neck. She shivered and wrapped her sweater tighter around herself. As she’d warned Toby, the mornings were getting colder. Summer was giving way to fall.

It was mid-September, the end of sunflowers and sweet corn, the beginning of mums and pumpkins. Luna loved this time of year. Harvest season. The air crisp with the kiss of autumn, the earth still warm from summer’s last embrace. She’d built her business selling the plants and vegetables she grew on a plot of land she worked herself. Slowly, respect and the reputation earned by the consistent quality of her products allowed her to expand the size of her garden and her business had grown.

Of the many farmers’ markets Luna attended throughout the year, Harvest Fest was by far her favorite. Held in the heart of her hometown, it was one of the last local markets of the season, before the brutal Midwest winter urged everyone indoors.

Sure, she’d sell pumpkins and corn stalks and haybales throughout the rest of fall, making sure everyone had the perfect autumn aesthetic to fill their Instagram feed. Luna had always thought the word “feed” an ironic choice. Or maybe not, since that’s exactly what it seemed those social media sites did—consume. The algorithm was always hungry for more content. People craving more likes and follows, starved for attention.

It was an observation, not a judgement. After all, Luna was one of those people, too. She could pretend she only did it because engagement was necessary for her business. Marketing. Building a brand. All that. But Luna couldn’t deny the surge of dopamine whenever someone liked one of her posts or the thrill that lit her up when a happy customer tagged her in a picture featuring her flowers or veggies.

It felt good.

But not as good as time spent in the fresh air and sunshine. So rather than stand there posting images of the sunrise with some generic inspirational quotes about starting the day early, she shoved her phone back in her jeans and got to work, determined to enjoy this glorious day in real time with her own eyes, not through a lens or a screen.

CHAPTER TWO

AN HOUR LATER, the sun had fully risen and all the stuff she’d loaded onto the truck had been unloaded again with a bit of help from Toby. Now everything was artfully arranged for sale. A rainbow of plump, fresh veggies and crisp, bright blooms. Relenting on her no screens policy for a moment, Luna grabbed her phone and snapped a few pics of their farmstand display while it was fully stocked and organized and looking its best. Then, she posted the images to her social media accounts along with info about the festival.

“You did good, mijo,” she told her son, pulling him in for a hug, which he accepted begrudgingly.

At nine years old, Toby was on the cusp of that age where he teetered between adoration for his mother and embarrassment. He wasn’t quite there yet, but Luna knew it was coming. Barely a week into fourth grade, her son was already showing signs of shifting to the dreaded side hug. Soon he’d be dodging her goodnight kisses and calling her mom in the annoyed flat tones of a perpetually unimpressed pre-teen.

But for now, he was still capable of being impressed. And much to Luna’s delight, he still adored attending the library’s story time, especially during the months it was held outdoors. Luna had Mr. Mark to thank for that. Toby looked up to him—all the kids did. Partly because the man seemed more suited to appearing on an indie rock stage than between the stacks of a small town library, but mostly because he was damn good at his job. He was an excellent librarian who adored books, was passionate about reading and literacy, and truly cared for the community.

Everyone was grateful for his service. Thanks to Mark, families could hold on to this piece of their kids’ childhoods just a little longer. Story time was always one of Harvest Fest’s most popular events. Even now, a crowd was gathering in a corner of the town square, awaiting Mr. Mark’s entrance in front of the library’s mobile book pavilion. Sure enough, moments later, cheers erupted as their pied piper appeared, acoustic guitar in one hand and a stack of books in the other.

“Mom!” Toby yelped in excitement, transforming back into a wiggly puppy. “Mom, it’s starting. Can I go now?”

“Yes, you may.” Luna nodded. “But make sure you pick a spot where I can see you,” she reminded him, attempting to steal one more hug. “And don’t wander off by yourself!” she called after him as he took off running across the square.

Luna was nervous, but not worried. With Mr. Mark in charge, Toby was perfectly safe. The librarian’s green eyes were as observant as they were charming, which was to say very. As he read a story about a cluster of bickering chickens, his gaze skimmed back and forth across the circle of kids like a lifeguard, constantly checking in.

Once she was sure Toby was settled in with the group in the square, Luna shifted her attention to her phone and texted her brother, Bo. He’d promised that he and his wife, Sadie, would meet her at the festival to help with the stand today. But it was well after nine and still no sign of him. Her brother was a lot of things, but unreliable was not one of them.

LUNA: Where are you? Your lazy butt better not still be in bed.

BO: I wish. My lazy butt hasn’t been to bed yet. On an overnight shoot downtown and stuck doing retakes. Going to have miss today. Sorry!

LUNA: No, I’m sorry. That sucks.

BO: Tell me about it. How much did setting up by yourself suck?

LUNA: Not too bad. Toby helped a lot.

BO: That’s my little man. Tell him Uncle Bo is proud of him.

LUNA: You can tell him when you see him at Sunday dinner tomorrow. Is Sadie still planning to come today?

BO: Yep. She should be there soon. Check the nearest donut cart.

Luna smirked as she read her brother’s last text. Bo was a stunt coordinator for film and television and spent a lot of his time on sets downtown. His wife, Sadie, was an actress. A movie star, really. Famous for playing the role of Luna’s favorite character of all-time, the rebellious heroine from a series of bestselling dystopian fantasy novels. She was also famous for her serious addiction to donuts.

Scanning the booths and stalls lined up around the market square, Luna searched for her sister-in-law, her gaze occasionally—more than occasionally—drifting to the corner where Mr. Mark was playing his guitar. His performance of a silly song engaged the kids and kept their attention, along with that of everyone else. More than a few heads besides Luna’s turned to linger on the librarian’s handsome face before drifting lower. From the broad shoulders encased in a Henley—a Henley for heaven’s sake—to the firm butt in soft faded denim, there was plenty to hold their interest.

As for Mr. Mark, he appeared oblivious to the fact he was being ogled by at least half the town, including her friend Priscilla, whose pastry booth stood next to Luna’s farmstand. And there, as her brother had predicted, was Sadie. She was standing at Priscilla’s counter, hovering over a platter of donuts.

Luna was pleased to note her sister-in-law was not among the rockstar librarian’s many admirers. Not that she expected anything less—Sadie only had eyes for her husband. And donuts. She continued to ogle the tray, violet eyes glued to the stack of cinnamon and sugar dusted pastries. The unusual eye color was a trademark of the famous actress and one of the many things the tabloids liked to claim was fake. But Luna had known Sadie since she was younger than Toby, and she knew for a fact the actress’s features were real, as real as the love Sadie felt for Bo.

“He’s getting so big,” Sadie said. “Every time I come back from a shoot it feels like he’s doubled in size.”

“Shoe size, for sure, anyway.” Luna laughed, turning to watch her son for a moment. “Too big, too soon.” She sighed.

“Did school start already?”

Luna nodded. “Fourth grade.”

“Wow.” Sadie shook her head as if she couldn’t believe it. “Fourth grade.”

“It goes so fast,” Luna said.

“It does, indeed,” Sadie agreed. There was a bittersweet melancholy that lingered for the briefest of moments in her sister-in-law’s eyes, a flicker of emotion that anyone other than Luna, and probably Bo, might have missed.

A few years ago, during the filming of the movie that had launched Sadie into superstardom, a secret had come out from her past. A secret involving both Sadie and Bo, who had been childhood sweethearts before teenage angst, hurt feelings, and misunderstandings on both sides had driven them apart. Luna too, had played a role in that break-up, though in a way she hadn’t fully understood until the secret was revealed over a decade later.

Sadie had been pregnant with Bo’s baby. It was the summer before she began college, the summer Bo, unaware of her condition and beset by doubts regarding his own worthiness, had broken up with her for fear he would hold her back. With her entire future on the line and not ready to be a mother, she’d chosen to get an abortion.

Bo hadn’t known. Sadie had tried to tell him, but Luna, also unaware of the details, had prevented that. Years later, when a tabloid exposed the story, Sadie didn’t run from the truth. She didn’t deny what she’d done or hidden the reasons for her choice. It was a private decision, like all medical decisions should be, but since it had been leaked to the public, she addressed it with her head held high, without shame.

Her actions encouraged other people to do the same. It was their life, and they deserved the right to choose. Sadie’s handling of the story also created a massive buzz around the film, leading to an avalanche of support from people who believed, like she did, that the right to choose was as unalienable a right as any and should never be forfeited.

Luna had faced the same choice, ironically at the same age Sadie had been. She’d chosen a different path for herself, but just like Sadie, she’d had her reasons. It didn’t make her decision any more right or wrong. They’d each chosen what they thought best. And because they’d had the choice then, neither of them lived with regret now.

Still. Luna knew Sadie sometimes had her moments. Not regret. Not doubt, even. Simply what-if. A moment of pondering. Luna did too. As did anyone when faced with a decision that could alter the entire shape of their future. It was human to wonder. Silently, she reached out and squeezed her sister-in-law’s hand.

The moment passed as quickly as it had come, and Sadie’s attention was once again glued to the pastries on display. She began to make her selections, and Priscilla loaded them into a box.

Luna eyed the stash. “Are all those for you?”

“Don’t worry, I plan to share,” Sadie promised. “But this one,” she said, plucking an apple cider churro donut from the box, “this one’s all mine.” She handed Priscilla a wad of cash before taking a bite. “Oh my God,” she groaned.

“Good?” Luna asked.

“Amazing,” Sadie said in between bites. She closed her eyes and moaned with pleasure.

“Look, I know my pastries are the bomb,” Priscilla said, watching Sadie in fascination, “and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but has anyone ever told you that you love donuts a little too much?”

Luna snorted. But as Sadie continued to devour her donut in a manner that bordered on pornographic, a restless energy filled Luna and she squirmed.

Catching her eye, Sadie licked sugar from her lips. “You look…hungry, Luna.”

“I don’t want a donut.”

“I wasn’t talking about food,” Sadie said slyly. She tipped her elfin chin in the direction of the town square. “Don’t think I didn’t catch you checking out the singing librarian.”

“I was not,” Luna declared then cringed. She sounded as petulant as Toby.

“Liar.” Priscilla snickered. “You were checking him out for so long he should be sending you a bill for late fees.”

“Well played.” Sadie laughed and nodded in approval. She turned back to Luna, violet eyes sparkling. “I have an idea.”

Luna recognized that twinkle. Her sister-in-law was up to no good. It was the same look Sadie got right before daring Bo to do something wild. “Whatever it is, I’m not interested.”

Sadie clucked her tongue in disappointment. “I didn’t realize you were such a chicken.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You’re as big a chicken as the ones in the story the man you definitely were checking out was reading,” Sadie taunted playfully. “Don’t you even want to hear my idea?”

“If it has anything to do with the possibility of me going on a date with anyone, then no.” Luna turned and headed back to her stand.

Undeterred, Sadie followed. She plucked a shiny red apple from a bushel on display and held it up. “You know what they say about apples?”

“That they are the source of all evil?” Luna suggested.

“Huh?” Sadie’s nose wrinkled in confusion.

“Original sin? Eve gave in to temptation and bit the apple, cursing women to suffer in childbirth forever more, blah blah blah.”

“Um, no.” Sadie shook her head. “Thanks for the reminder of how patriarchal bullshit has always loved to blame women for everything, but I was thinking something less biblical.”

“Like what?” Luna asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Sadie flicked the apple’s stem. “I was talking about the old superstition that if you twist the stem of an apple while saying the alphabet it will snap on the letter of your lover’s name.”

“Does that work?” Pris wondered, clearly eavesdropping from her booth next door, eyes bright with curiosity.

“Sure.” Luna snorted. “If you’re in junior high.”

“Come on,” Sadie teased. “I know you’re curious.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.” Sadie held up the apple encouragingly. “Try it. I dare you.”

“Unlike my brother, dares don’t work on me.” Luna smirked. “And neither do your charms.”

“Are you sure?” Sadie dangled the apple in Luna’s face. “You’re not even a little bit curious?”

Luna watched the apple sway in front of her. She swallowed and glanced toward the square, where the crowd was still singing along, something about pancakes now. “Fine.” She snatched the apple from Sadie’s hand, half-hoping the stem would snap right then and there. But the stubborn little thing held fast. Maybe if she twisted hard enough, she could get it to break quickly and end this nonsense.

With that in mind, Luna began to recite the alphabet, twisting the stem between her fingers with each letter. But despite her best efforts, the stem remained firmly attached. She should have known better. It was an apple from her own orchard, freshly picked, the stem still strong and supple.

She twisted harder. Finally, as she said the letter J, the stem loosened. On K, Luna heard a crack. She paused. “It’s going to break on L,” she predicted, voice rich with amusement. “Maybe this does work, since I do love myself.” She twisted again. The stem, however, had other ideas and remained intact.

“You were saying?” Sadie asked primly, a challenge in her violet eyes as she waited patiently for Luna to continue.

Luna reluctantly twisted the stem again, this time as gently as possible. With luck, she’d make it past the next letter. “M,” she mumbled, wincing as the stem snapped from the apple with a pop.

“How about that,” Sadie purred. “Hmm.” She tapped her chin. “Who do we know with a name that starts with the letter M?”

“That depends,” Luna decided to play ignorant. “Are we looking for someone whose first or last name starts with M?”

“Good point,” Priscilla chimed in. “Probably best if we find someone whose first and last name both start with M, don’t you think?”

Luna glared at her friend. “Mierda. How’s that for a word that starts with M?” Her mother was Mexican American, and Luna had grown up in a bilingual home. But outside her family, Pris, and a handful of customers, Luna rarely spoke anything but English. Save for curse words and endearments. Those often seemed to fall from her tongue in Spanish.

She’d forgotten the man affectionately referred to as Mr. Mark’s full name was actually Mark Martin. Shit.

“What is he, a Dr. Seuss character?” she grumbled. “Whose first and last names start with the same letter anyway?”

“Um, I don’t know,” Sadie said, her voice equal parts sweet and salty. “Let me ask my friends Cassie Crow and Bonnie Blythe.”

“Or Jack Johnson,” Pris added. “Now that I think about it, he kinda reminds me of Mr. Mark. Another hottie who is good with a guitar.”

“Fine,” Luna grumbled some more. “But it still doesn’t mean anything.”

“You’re right.” Sadie agreed. “This doesn’t mean anything unless you want it to. That’s how signs work.”

“She makes a good point,” Priscilla added.

Luna whirled on her. “Whose side are you on, Pris?” she asked, a shard of old jealousy piercing her gut. It stung to think her best friend was banding together with her sister-in-law, no matter the reason. Despite the deep love and affection Luna now felt for Sadie, those years of envy and bitterness had left their mark. It wasn’t logical or even very mature or her, but there it was.

“I’m trying to help you, puta.” Priscilla fisted her hands on the generous curves of her hips. “You claim you don’t want to date. Fine. Maybe, instead of focusing on what you don’t want to do, why don’t you consider something you do?”

“Like what?” Luna asked. “And if you say do him, I swear to…”

“That’s for you to decide.” Priscilla held up her hands. “But I will say this.” She glanced over her shoulder. Mark had finished another story and picked up his guitar again. He was now leading the crowd in a lively rendition of a song from a popular children’s movie. “From the moment he met you he’s made it clear he’d like to…f—” Pris paused meaningfully.

“He’d like to what?” Luna lifted one midnight brow in warning. Her elegant, sharply arched brows were one of her fiercest weapons, and she used them sparingly but to great effect.

“Feed you,” Priscilla supplied blithely. She turned to Sadie. “He’s asked her out to eat so many times I’ve lost count. To dinner. To lunch. To breakfast. To brunch.”

“And you said no?” Sadie asked Luna.

“Turned him down cold, every time,” Priscilla supplied before Luna could muster a response.

“I wasn’t cold, I was very polite.” Luna huffed. “I simply told him I’m not interested.”

“We all know that’s not true,” Pris teased. “I’ve seen the way you look at him. You are more than interested. Let the poor man feed you,” she said. “And fuck you,” she added under her breath. With a wink, she turned her attention to a customer waiting at the counter of her bakery booth.

“Not happening. I’m never dating,” Luna muttered. “Never.”

“Famous last words,” Sadie scoffed. “Never say never. I said the same thing about getting back together with your brother and look how that turned out.” She lifted the hand still holding the now stemless apple, her diamond wedding band winking in the sun. “You know, apple picking is what led to Bo and I getting back together.”

Luna frowned, wondering if Sadie was messing with her. “I thought it was the movie you both worked on.”

“Well that too,” Sadie agreed. “But at first, we were mostly fighting with each other on set, and not just the fake fighting he was teaching me as my stunt coordinator.”

“What changed?” Luna asked, curious despite herself.

“My best friend Ana—do you remember her?”

Luna nodded. “Of course, I do. The one with the catering company. She’s my best customer for garlic scapes.”

“I didn’t know that.” Sadie blinked. “I don’t know what garlic scapes are, either.” She shrugged. “Anyway. Ana wanted to go apple picking for all the goodies she was planning to bake for Rosh Hashanah and insisted I go with her. Somehow, your brother got roped in too. After spending the day with him—”

“And the night, I bet,” Luna added cheekily.

“You’d win that bet,” Sadie agreed, not bothering to deny it. “And oh, what a night it was. But it started that day. Spending time together opened the door to possibility. It provided an opportunity to get to know each other again. Gave us a second chance.” Sadie met Luna’s stare head-on. “But we still had to be the ones to take that chance.”

Luna dropped her gaze to the stemless apple. Temptation weighed heavy in her palm, filling her mind with thoughts of spending the day—and possibly a night—with a certain guitar-playing, glasses-wearing, bachelor librarian who was too cute for his own good.

She lifted her chin, eyes drawn to the man they spoke of. The man she very much desired. His sandy hair glowed in the late morning sunlight, so bright and pure he could have been Lucifer himself. People often thought the devil was a creature of shadows, dark and ugly, but she’d been taught he shone with a brilliance that was deceptively beautiful. All the better to be tempted. All the harder to resist.

Luna licked her lips, watching as he entertained the crowd gathered around him. The soft notes he strummed drifted across the market square, making her skin tingle. “Mierda,” she swore again and bit into the apple.

CHAPTER THREE

THE APPLE WAS GONE and Sadie with it by the time the bells in the clocktower at the other end of the square began to ring, marking the end of story hour. As the gathered crowd dispersed throughout the square, Luna tried to keep up with the increase in customer traffic while maintaining an eye on Toby. Panic sliced through her when she lost sight of him, but it was quickly dispelled when she spotted Mark leading her son toward her through the swarm of people now milling about the booths and stands.

“I didn’t know the library delivered,” Luna teased, giddy from the rush of relief knowing Toby was safe. And maybe a few endorphins from the sudden nearness of a certain man with certain initials.

“Only on special occasions.” Mark smiled. Behind the lenses of his glasses, his green eyes were lush and vibrant as ivy, wrapping around her heart. “I bring you one boy,” he said, patting Toby on the head. “And,” he continued, grin turning mysterious as he pulled a thick envelope from his backpack, “one book.”

“Is that…” Luna hesitated, too excited by the possibility to finish the thought.

“It is.” Mark nodded. “An advance reader copy of the final book in the series. It arrived only yesterday.”

“Did you read it yet?”

He chuckled. “I’m flattered you think so highly of my speedreading abilities, but no. I wanted you to be the first.” Mark handed over the book. “I know how long you’ve been waiting to get your hands on this.”

Luna gripped the edges of the envelope tightly. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say thanks, Mom,” Toby piped up.

Luna wilted. For a moment, she’d all but forgotten he was there. Her own son.

That was the problem with temptation. It messed with your priorities. Got in the way of what was really important.

“Thank you,” she managed to say, itching to tear open the package. But Luna knew once she saw the cover, she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from opening the book and reading a few pages, and then she’d be done for. The temptation to keep going would be far too strong. Stronger even than the pull of the man who had delivered it to her. The devil himself. Wearing a Henley and glasses. “I don’t know how I can repay you.”

“The look on your face is reward enough.” He grinned. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen such love for a book series. Any librarian would be thrilled.”

Luna’s breath caught. “Thank you again,” she croaked, sincerity clear in her voice despite the guilt and excitement and lust and longing and worry and doubt all swirling around inside her in a massive thicket of confusion. Let the man feed you. Priscilla’s words echoed in her head. Should she? Offer to take him out for a meal as a way of saying thank you? It’s the least she could do, though she certainly wasn’t planning on doing what else her friend suggested.

She dropped her gaze to Toby, who was inching toward Priscilla’s booth, a plate of cupcakes within range of his eager fingers. “Tobias,” she warned.

“I’m just looking,” he said, even as he continued to move closer to the cupcakes.

“Oh, let the boy have one,” Priscilla said. “My treat.”

“Fine.” Luna heaved a sigh. “But just one.”

“Here, mijo.” Priscilla handed Toby a cupcake. “Enjoy.” She stared at Luna pointedly. “There’s nothing worse than looking at something you really want and not being able to have it.”

“Pris,” Luna said, the warning tone now for her friend.

“Not being able to touch it,” Priscilla continued, her dark eyes alight with mischief. “Or taste it,” she added saucily, batting her lashes as she held up another cupcake. “Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Mark?”

“Uh, you can just call me Mark,” he said, avoiding both the cupcake and the question.

Luna’s lips twitched. Score one for the town’s sexiest librarian. “Mark” she repeated, enjoying the taste of his name in her mouth. “Mark Martin.”

“That’s me.” He turned to her, an amused, self-deprecating smile dancing on his lips. “My family is quite fond of alliteration.” His gaze drifted up to the sign above the booth, advertising Priscilla’s Panaderia & Pasteleria in bright pink and gold lettering. “Apparently, they’re not the only ones.”

“Not the only ones to do what?” Sadie asked, sidling up to their little group.

“Where did you come from?” Luna wondered. “I thought you left already.”

“I still have a few things to take care of,” Sadie said cryptically.

Suspicions aroused, Luna narrowed her eyes. She was about to press for more details when she realized her exchange had probably come across as rude. She turned to Mark. “I’d like you to meet my sister-in-law.”

“Sadie Gold Ibarra.” Sadie smiled and held out a hand.

“I thought I recognized you,” Mark said, shaking her hand politely.

“And I thought I recognized you,” Sadie purred. “Mark Martin, right?”

“Um, yeah.” A subtle lift of his eyebrows was the only indication he was surprised by her knowledge of his existence. “That’s me.”

“But I call him Mr. Mark,” Toby said.

“Mr. Mark works, too. Thanks Toby.” His smile was genuine, eyes warm.

Luna like the way he talked to her son, with care and respect. For that matter, she liked the way he’d treated her sister-in-law too. A lot of people got weird when they met Sadie, but Mark acted like she was just a regular person. Which she was, aside from the money, fame, and outrageous gorgeousness. But none of that seemed to faze him. The man was, in a word, chill. Luna liked that about him. A lot.

“Um, Mark, I was thinking…” Luna began. She clutched the book he’d given her closer, gathering her courage. “Maybe we could grab something to eat together sometime.”

“Really?” His face split in a wide grin.

“Really.” She nodded, lips quirking. It was impossible not to smile when he was looking at her like that, his green eyes lit up like a forest of evergreens on Christmas morning. Luna had green eyes too, but hers were more of an emerald color. Gemstones, clear and sharp. The green of Mark’s eyes was earthier. Richer. It made Luna think of lush living things like foliage and flowers. Her favorite things. “When would you like to go?” she asked.

“How about now?”

“Now?” Luna gulped. She hadn’t been expecting that.

“Sure. I’m free the rest of the day…” he paused, glancing around at the still bustling market. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” he apologized, immediately contrite. “You probably still have work to do.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Sadie interjected. “I’m covering for her.”

“You are?” Luna asked, trying to keep up with the sequence of events. For some reason, her brain was plodding along like it was trudging through marshland.

“Bo and I promised we’d help you today,” Sadie reminded her. “That’s why I’m here. But since he can’t be, I’ll need an extra pair of hands.” She turned her attention to her nephew. “What do you think, Toby? Can you step in for Uncle Bo and help me out?”

Toby nodded, little chest puffing up.

Luna bit her cheek. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” Sadie nodded. “And take your time. Toby can help me pack up the stand and we’ll drive back to the farmhouse together.” She shifted her voice to a dramatic stage whisper. “Maybe I can convince him to teach me how to make his Uncle Bo’s favorite dessert.”

“Coca cola cake?” Toby chirped.

“That’s the one.” Sadie winked at him.

Toby wriggled excitedly, already chattering about ingredients for the cake.

“I guess that settles it,” Luna declared. “I’m free for lunch.”

“Great!” Mark clapped his hands together. “Let me go grab my stuff from the library pavilion. Meet you back here in fifteen minutes?”

“I’ll be waiting,” Luna said, suddenly nervous.

She was on the verge of yelling for Mark to come back and calling it off when Pris bent over the counter and muttered in her ear, “If you cancel on him, I’m going to shove this spatula somewhere very unpleasant.”

“Pris!” Luna gaped at her friend. “You wouldn’t.”

“True,” Priscilla agreed. “I like this spatula too much.” She grinned and used the utensil to slice off a giant slab of tres leches cake and slide it into a pastry box. “Here,” she said, handing the cake to Luna. “In case you need some energy later.” Priscilla waggled her eyebrows.

“You’re too kind.” Luna’s voice was laced with sarcasm. Pris might have ended up with cake in her face, except for the fact there was no way Luna would waste a single crumb. If coca cola cake was her brother’s favorite, tres leches was hers. “Thank you,” she added more sincerely. She knew her friend meant well.

Priscilla nodded. Her attention shifted over to the farmstand where Sadie and Toby were already hard at work loading empty produce crates into the truck. “She’s a good egg, your sister-in-law.”

“She is,” Luna agreed. It had taken her a long time to figure that out, but she did, eventually. Ever since she could remember, since they were little kids, Sadie had everything—including the adoration of her brother. For years, Luna’s jealousy ate at her soul, the proverbial poison in the apple. She’d been rotten and had treated Sadie horribly. Luna had taken every opportunity to lash out at the older girl. She’d always been viscerally aware that her behavior was wrong, but had also felt her actions were, if not justified, then at least vindicated.

Over time, she began to realize how shallow that sense of retribution ran. How weak her reasoning. It took a lot of work and self-reflection, but slowly, she pulled the weeds of spite and jealousy from her heart, allowing new life to grow in the freshly turned earth. Strong healthy bonds of friendship took root and love bloomed. To Luna’s surprise, over the past few years, Sadie had become not just her sister-in-law, but a true sister.

There was a time, she never could have imagined it.

Never say never indeed.

CHAPTER FOUR

LUNA WASN’T sure what to expect when Mark returned, but she certainly hadn’t anticipated he’d come back with a blanket draped over his shoulder and a picnic basket tucked under his arm.

“I thought we could have lunch at the park across the street,” he suggested.

“That sounds great.” It sounded better than great, it sounded perfect. She’d been nervous about heading to a restaurant, afraid it would feel too much like a date, which she still insisted this wasn’t. A picnic at the park seemed easy and relaxed. An afternoon spent with a friend, nothing more.

She moved to place the cake in the basket and frowned. “This is empty.”

“It is right now,” he agreed. “I thought we could fill it together.”

“Ah.” She nodded at the pastry box. “Well, we can start with dessert.”

“Excellent.” He flashed her a grin. “I love to eat dessert first.”

Luna swallowed. There was no reason for her to interpret his comment as sexual, and yet, at the mention of eating dessert, an image of Mark’s head between her legs blossomed in her mind and she couldn’t seem to make it go away. In fact, the more she tried, the more details seemed to attach themselves. Her long dark hair spread across the blanket he was carrying. Her palms roaming over his bare back, warm from the sun as he crouched over her and feasted. His strong capable hands gripping her hips. The image was so real Luna swore she could feel the callouses on his fingers from the guitar strings tickling the sensitive skin of her thighs as he spread them further apart, opening her to him.

She cleared her throat. “Let’s get something to drink next,” she suggested, and headed to the section of the market that served booze. After enjoying a few samples of wine and beer, which helped Luna relax but did nothing to quell her imagination, they settled on a tart raspberry ale, and some sparkling water as well. From there they added a variety of cheeses, a loaf of fresh baked bread that smelled like heaven, and a few other tidbits to round things out, including dried fruit, nuts and olives.

When the basket was full to bursting, they headed toward the park. As they stepped off the curb to cross the street, Luna’s hand found Mark’s. It happened on instinct. Without thinking. Years of reaching for Toby’s hand before crossing the street had been hardwired into her system. The act was so embedded that they were halfway across the street before Luna even realized what she’d done. By that point it felt weird to drop his hand, so she didn’t, and kept walking.

His hand felt strong, fingers long and supple. The pad of his thumb brushed against her palm and Luna shivered. “That looks like a good spot,” she said, breaking the contact to point out a shaded area nestled in a circle of oak trees.

Mark nodded and followed her lead. Luna helped him spread the blanket, then kicked off her shoes and crawled onto it. He joined her, placing their basket of provisions between them. They worked in unison, setting out a spread worthy of any social media feed. But Luna wasn’t interested in capturing an aesthetic. She simply wanted to savor the moment.

This morning, she’d set the intention that all she’d wanted to do today was spend some time outside, enjoying the weather before it was gone. And now here she was. Talk about manifesting.

Once they’d stuffed themselves, and the supplies had dwindled to a few rinds of cheese and a stray olive or two, Luna rested back on her elbows, sighing with pleasure. Her belly was full, the September sun was gentle on her face, and a fall breeze drifted through the trees. Perfection.

“We haven’t even touched the dessert yet,” Mark said, his voice low and sleepy.

“Later,” Luna promised. She had a feeling he was as stuffed as she was. “If I if tried to eat anything else right now, I’d pop the button on my jeans.”

“Can I confess something to you?” Mark asked. Before she could answer, he bent toward her and whispered, “I already had to undo mine.”

Luna giggled. She wasn’t a person prone to giggling, but right now, full and happy and possibly tipsy, the laughter bubbled up easily. Spilling over like frothy champagne.

“I’m serious.” He lifted his shirt to show her the proof.

Sure enough, the button on his fly was undone, revealing a toned, if slightly swollen abdomen. But there was nothing funny about the sight before her. Bare skin, a dusting of hair circling his navel and dipping lower, disappearing past that open button. The giggles fizzled in her throat, and Luna choked, almost swallowing her tongue as she imagined where that trail of hair led, and what waited at the end of it.

“Sorry,” he said, dropping his shirt and patting his stomach. “You don’t want to see my hairy belly.”

Actually… Realizing she was staring at more than his belly, Luna forced her gaze somewhere else. Anywhere else. Her attention landed on the library ID badge hanging from a lanyard around his neck. “Why did you want to become a children’s librarian?”

“Why do you ask?” His green eyes grew shadowed. “Because you think it’s creepy?”

“Because I’m curious.” And I need something to distract me from further speculation about what’s inside your pants. “Why would I think it’s creepy?” If anyone was being creepy, it was her.

“I guess I’m a little sensitive about it.” He crossed his arms. “You know, a dude reading books to little kids and playing his guitar? Some people make assumptions.”

“Well, as the mother of one of those little kids, I say some people are ass hats.”

A soft puff of laughter escaped him, the tension in Mark’s shoulders easing but not dissipating. “When I was growing up, my dad wasn’t around much. And my mom, well, she really didn’t want me around, either. I spent a lot of time at the library.” A bittersweet smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Too much time.”

He plucked at a blade of grass. “The staff could have kicked me out for being there without a parent or guardian, but instead, they welcomed me and made me feel safe. The library became more of a home than my actual home ever was, and in a way, the librarians became my guardians. They suggested books for me to read, and after I’d read all of those, they recommended more. Little presents started to show up. Gloves, hats, new shoes…” He shook his head. “They made a game of it, like the story of the elves and the shoemaker.”

Mark tilted his chin and gazed at the clouds drifting overhead. “I think they were trying to protect my pride, but I knew it was them. And I was grateful. I started to do odd jobs around the building to say thank you. Shelve books, fix little things that broke. Whatever I could to help.”

“You became their elf,” Luna said, her voice tender, aching for the boy he’d once been.

“In a way, yeah.” He smiled. “Eventually, I was old enough that they could hire me for real, and when I graduated high school, I knew that’s want I wanted to do.”

“And here you are,” she said.

“Here I am.” He ran his hand over the top of the blanket, brushing away stray crumbs and smoothing out the wrinkles. “What about you?”

Luna hesitated. When she’d agreed to a casual lunch, she’d hadn’t expected things to get so personal, but Mark had shared his story, and while Luna knew she wasn’t obligated to share hers, she wanted to. At least some of it. “I’d planned to go away for college,” she said. “Study agricultural design in California.”

“California?” Mark whistled. “That’s a long way away.”

“And a long time ago.” It all seemed like a lifetime ago. In a way, it was. “But things happened, and I stayed here.” Luna waited for Mark to ask questions, to press for more information, but he didn’t. He knew about Toby. He didn’t need to be a genius to fill in some of the blanks on his own. Luna decided to fill in a few of those blanks for him. “Toby’s father knows he exists but isn’t a part of his life. He isn’t a part of my life either.”

Mark nodded. And still, he didn’t press for more details.

“After I found out I was pregnant, and knew I wanted to keep it, we talked. He agreed to set up a trust for Toby’s education, and I agreed to absolve him of further responsibilities as long as he signed away his parental rights. Toby is mine and mine alone.” Luna paused and forced herself to take a breath. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” She shook her head, the muscles in her back and shoulders tight with anxiety as she realized what she’d just revealed. “I’ve never told anyone about Toby’s father. Ever.”

“And neither will I,” Mark promised, voice solemn. He reached for her hand, holding it tightly within his own. “I’m honored—humbled—that you trusted me with these pieces of your story. I will guard your secrets well.”

“Thank you,” Luna said. Tension seeped from her spine, and she sank down onto the blanket next to him. After all these years, it had felt good to share that with someone, to share that with him. She trusted Mark with her son on a regular basis and knew she could trust him with her secrets too.

A comfortable silence settled over them. Beside her, Luna felt Mark’s body begin to loosen and relax, limbs going slack as he nodded off. Careful not to disturb him, Luna reached for the book he’d given her. With deft fingers she gingerly slid it out of the envelope and settled in to read while Mark napped.

Minutes drifted by, the afternoon passing so peacefully that Luna was shocked to glance up from her book and realize how late it was getting. Long shadows stretched across the park lawn. She was debating whether or not to wake Mark when he stirred, eyes slowly drifting open. She grinned at him over the top of her book. “Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty.”

He yawned and stretched. “How long have I been out?”

“Two hours.” Luna reached over and tugged a fallen leaf from his hair.

“I’ve been asleep for two hours?” He sat up straighter, blinking.

“At least.” She grinned. “I hope I haven’t been boring you.”

“Boring me?” He shook his head vehemently. “You could never be boring.”

“Everyone is boring once in a while.” Luna held up the book he’d given her. “Even the characters in this book. But I still like the story.” She set the book aside. “And of course, I’m boring sometimes. After all,” she reminded him, “I did put you to sleep.”

“Falling asleep on our first date.” He groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I think that means I’m the one who’s boring.”

“Who said this was a date?” she asked, skin prickling. “And you’re not boring. If you were, you have a pack of kids who would be sure to tell you so immediately.”

“I suppose that’s true.” Mark collapsed back onto the blanket with a rueful sigh. “They are honest, aren’t they?”

“Brutally,” Luna agreed. “To a fault.” Was she being honest with herself right now? She’d said this wasn’t a date. But it was certainly beginning to feel like one. She’d also said she never wanted to date anyone. But was that true either? Answers that had seemed clear this morning felt much less certain now.

“What about you?” Mark asked. “If I asked you a question, would you tell me the truth? Be brutally honest?”

She nodded.

“Are we just friends or is this a date?”

Damn. Mark wasn’t messing around, was he? Luna appreciated that. She liked that he wasn’t into playing games. She didn’t want to play games either. Not with her own feelings or his. Luna shifted to her side, elbow pressing into the blanket, chin propped in her hand as she studied him. What would happen if she changed her mind? Decided that she did want to date Mark? At least once. Or maybe twice. Just to see what might happen if she opened the door and gave them a chance. Gave herself—her heart—a chance.

Never say never…

“We are friends, but that doesn’t mean this can’t also be a date.” Luna licked her lips and gathered her courage. “Though I think for it to be a date, you need to kiss me.”

“Ah.” The softest smile imaginable lifted one side of Mark’s mouth, like the curl of smoke rising after a birthday candle had been blown out. The moment after a wish. His fingers lifted, stroking over her brow, brushing the hair back from her temples. And then he was cupping her cheeks, palms warm on her skin as he tilted her face toward his. “Then I guess this is a date,” he said, and covered her mouth with his own.

Luna leaned into him, deepening the kiss. Even the stroke of his tongue against hers was tender. Gentle and sweet. So sweet. It made her feel cared for. Special. Precious. When was the last time someone had made her feel this way?

“Since you asked for brutal honesty,” Luna said as she broke off their kiss, “I should probably tell you I might be falling for a friend.”

“Well, I think that’s good.”

“You do?” Luna pressed her lips together, but the question she was trying to hold back tumbled out anyway. “Why?”

“Because of the alliteration, of course.”

“Of course.” Her heart squeezed and Luna didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Well, there is that.”

“But more than that,” he continued, grazing her jaw with his knuckles. “It’s okay if you’re falling.” His touch drifted higher, thumb stroking back and forth across her bottom lip. “I’ll catch you.”

“You will?”

“I know I will,” Mark promised, his brilliant green eyes steady on hers, lush verdant forests she could wander for hours in. Get lost forever in. “Because I’ve already fallen for you.”

For more information on Melonie and her books, visit her website at meloniejohnson.com or sign up for the Writing Lush newsletter by clicking here.

About the Author

USA Today bestselling author Melonie Johnson―aka #thewritinglush―enjoys sipping cocktails that start with the letter m. She lives in Chicagoland with her husband and their two redhead daughters. A former high school English and Theatre teacher, Melonie now spends her days in her Star Wars office, dreaming up meet cutes. Declared a “writer to watch” by Kirkus and a “fizzy, engrossing new voice” by Entertainment Weekly, her smart funny contemporary romances have appeared on the Amazon Best Books of the Month list and been featured in Cosmopolitan and Woman’s World. Past works include TOO GOOD TO BE REAL, a Buzzfeed and Goodreads pick for best romances of the summer, and her award-winning Sometimes in Love debut series: Getting Hot with the Scot, Smitten by the Brit, and Once Upon a Bad Boy. Her next rom-com, TOO WRONG TO BE RIGHT arrives in Feb 2023.

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A TABLE FOR TWO

MIA SANDS

I HURRY down the sandy beach that leads to the patio restaurant. I’m only fifteen minutes late to dinner, and given my track record, that’s seriously award-worthy.

I even had time to dress up—or, the librarian equivalent: black flip-flops and a casual summer dress—sleeveless to avoid pit stains, mauve because it’s my favorite color, and baggy since form-fitting clothes and I don’t mesh. I love my body, but it doesn’t love being wrapped up in fabric like a freaking mummy. And I prefer eating a full meal with dessert without having to unbutton my jeans or worry a hem might split. No, thank you.

I place a hand on the crochet messenger bag thrown over my shoulder to make sure the hardcover romance novel I’m reading is safely tucked away inside, along with my e-reader for backup, of course. I can’t wait to get back to my room tonight so I can find out how it ends.

When I reach the restaurant, the patio is packed and bustling with conversation. A live band’s playing merengue on the stage while the sun slowly sets over the ocean, casting a warm hue over the red tablecloths and fancy china.

“Do you have a reservation?” The maitre d’, whose name tag reads Jorge, asks. His bushy eyebrows, which kind of look like caterpillars, pull together, and his graying mustache, which reminds me of a terrier’s, twitches.

“Yes. I’ve got the paper the receptionist gave me right here.” I tap my messenger bag. “But I think my friends are already seated.”

Not that I can see them anywhere, but it is a large patio.

Jorge holds out a hand and raises one caterpillar. I wonder if he’s named them. “May I have your reservation slip?”

I let out a resigned sigh. It’s doubled as a bookmark since I first got it, but I reluctantly remove it. It’s not like I’ll have any trouble finding where I stopped reading; I just like knowing I can open the book to the correct page without wasting time.

Jorge takes the reservation and checks the large, leather-bound daily calendar he’s got propped up on his host stand. He runs his finger down the page and clears his throat. “I have some bad news. Your reservation was for six o’clock…” he glances at his gold wrist watch, “and it’s six eighteen.”

I nod, because as far as bad news goes, it’s not all that bad.

“Unfortunately, we’re fully booked, and it’s restaurant policy to only hold your table for ten minutes.” He holds out the reservation slip and points to the fine print at the bottom. “When you didn’t show up, I gave your table away to another party.”

I try my best to smile at him. “Do you have another table?”

“For one?”

“For three.” I glance back down the beach, but there’s no sign of June or Emma. “My friends are just running late.”

I’m never on time, so it’s only fair that their resort reading lists got the best of them. I, for one, always prioritize reading one more chapter over being punctual. And lucky for me, Emma and June cover for me whenever I’m late coming to work.

“They’re probably reading,” I tell Jorge. “It’s so hard to put a book down once you get started. That’s why I’m late. I just had to know if Jana was going to become a vampire.”

The caterpillar above his left eye arches its back. “Did she?”

I tap the book cover. “You’d have to read the book to find out.”

The caterpillar drops. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I’m just going to check our group chat.” I rummage through my messenger bag and pull out my phone. “Oh, crap. I forgot I muted it. I didn’t want it to disturb me while I was reading.” I notice the missed messages and open up our chat.

“Is everything all right?”

I sigh. “My friends can’t make it. Apparently, June met a guy on this afternoon’s flight, and Emma’s stuck babysitting her sister’s kids.”

Neither caterpillar moves at that announcement, but the terrier mustache wiggles into a polite smile. His eyes drift down briefly, and I glimpse a novel hidden under his podium. He’s trying to sneak in some reading, too.

I debate heading back to my room. I could order room service and read in bed… or I could just read out here. I’ve dined with quite a few book boyfriends over the years, and they make wonderful companions. Often better than humans—especially when I’ve been forced to stop mid-story.

“Can I just get a table for two?” I tap the novel. “Well, one and a book?”

That earns me a chuckle. “I’m not supposed to do this, but I’m glad to meet yet another person tonight who enjoys a good book.” His caterpillars draw together. “I have an idea. Let me see what I can do.”

Jorge disappears across the crowded patio, and I turn to watch the ocean waves kiss the shore. It’s relaxing out here, with the cool breeze caressing my skin and the smell of the ocean mixing with that of barbecuing meat.

Jorge clears his throat to get my attention. “You’re in luck. Follow me.”

We cross the patio toward a table that overlooks the ocean. The view is amazing, and I definitely do not mean the sand and water—I mean the tanned, dark-haired man sitting at the table, reading. His broad shoulders stretch his white button-up shirt while his eyes remain glued to his book. Move aside book boyfriend, hello tall, dark, and handsome stranger.

Jorge turns to me. “The gentleman said he doesn’t mind sharing.”

The gentleman in question looks up from the mystery novel he’s reading, and his piercing brown eyes lock on mine. My heart! My ovaries! He’s every librarian’s kryptonite, and one look at those long fingers holding a paperback and I practically melt into a puddle at his feet.

“I’m Kai.” He extends a hand for me to shake, and I almost whimper. Shit. I am so doomed.

“I’m doomed. I mean, I’m Maeve.” I cringe. Clearly, I’m off to a great start.

“Doomed, huh?” He grins and gestures at the seat across from him. “I really don’t mind sharing. Especially with a fellow reader.”

My cheeks flame with heat. I’m acting worse than a schoolgirl around her first crush. Spoiler alert: I never even worked up the courage to speak to mine. I just kept leaving books by his locker like a cat dropping dead mice at its owner’s feet to gain favor.

If I look at the bright side, twenty-five-year-old me is light-years ahead of where I was a decade ago. Okay, maybe not light-years. Just years. Fine, days. Okay, hours. Minutes? Seconds? I’m still here, aren’t I?

Oh, who am I kidding? My heart is pounding in my chest, my face twitches when I try to smile, and I have to fight the urge to wipe my palms on my dress or check for drool.

But I’m also mentally stripping off Kai’s clothes, and I definitely wasn’t doing that as a teen. I’d been more into picturing myself and my crush locking braces. But graduation from make-out sessions to sex aside, I still don’t stand a chance.

Plus, I’ve got a perfectly good boyfriend between the pages of my hardback just waiting to be read. So the only rejection I’m interested in is between fictional characters, followed by a lot of groveling, passionate sex, and a happily ever after.

“I should go,” I murmur, not quite meeting his eye.

“Stay,” Kai gestures at his own book. “It’ll be like I’m not even here.”

Jorge pulls out my chair and raises a caterpillar in encouragement.

I have no choice but to sit or look ungrateful.

Here’s the thing about librarians. We’re an obedient bunch. Okay, fine… not all of us are. Cherry—whose wedding June, Emma, and I flew out here for—is more the type to convince us all to skip class and have too much wine while sobbing over Casablanca.

Meanwhile, my greatest act of rebellion is perpetually being late. Which is how I find myself seated across from Kai with my novel open in front of me… to a random page, not the page I stopped on.

I pretend to read, but for all I know, the book is upside down. Shit, is it? I let out a relieved exhale once I’ve made sure that it is not. But seriously, how am I supposed to focus while I’m seated across from a man who could put any book boyfriend to shame? My attention keeps being drawn to Kai, even though he seems to have completely forgotten I’m here.

His gaze is glued to his book. He hardly moves a muscle as he stares down at the page… the same page… for an inordinate amount of time… like maybe he isn’t actually reading. Interesting…

I count to ten in my head. Then two hundred and twenty. Either Kai is the slowest reader in the history of readers, or he’s faking it, too.

Is the book just a freaking prop? Is he that guy who shows up places with a novel so he can pick up women? I’ve seen it at the library often enough, but Kai doesn’t need literary help.

I raise an eyebrow. “Good book?”

Kai looks up, his eyes widening in surprise.

Yeah, yeah, I know. You never interrupt someone who’s reading. It’s like an unwritten rule that everyone follows, unless they want to be a complete social pariah amongst the librarian crowd.

But, Rule Number One only applies when the other person is actually reading. Not when they’re just pretending.

“It’s quite riveting,” Kai says with a tentative smile. He holds up the novel and shows me the cover, and launches into an animated book talk that could rival one of my own.

“You should be a librarian,” I tell him.

“Really?” He leans closer. “And why’s that?”

“Because even I want to find out who the killer is, and I don’t read mysteries.”

“What do you read, then?”

“Romance.” I hold up my book so he can see the man-chest and wolf cover. “It’s actually got a great plot, and it’s absolutely hilarious. All the characters are obsessed with chicken nuggets. I don’t think I’ve stopped laughing since page one.”

“I never say no to nuggets.” Kai examines the book. “I’ll be sure to recommend it to a few of my regulars who read paranormal romantic comedy.”

“Regulars?” I hold my breath as I wait for his answer.

“I am a librarian.”

“You are? Me too,” I gush, and all the awkwardness I’ve been feeling dissipates.

Even though there’s no way Kai is interested in me romantically, there’s one thing I know, and it’s books. And I can handle myself around fellow librarians, even when they’re so hot I can’t resist checking them out from time to time.

“So, where did you get your masters?” I ask, leaning forward in my seat.

And just like that, the conversation flows. We talk about our first jobs, trade library stories, and talk about crazy patrons. Every librarian has at least one story.

By the time the barbecue arrives, we’ve made a list of people we both know, starting with Cherry, whose wedding we’re both at the resort for. And then we talk books, and more books, and even more books. I could talk about books forever!

We’re still at the restaurant long after the sun has set. The live band’s just finishing tearing down when Jorge stops at our table to ask how we’re doing, and we realize all the other diners are gone.

Since we’re at an all-inclusive resort, there’s no bill. We just grab our books—though reading is the furthest thing from my mind—and move to a secluded part of the beach. The two beach chairs we settle on are half-hidden behind a palm tree, giving us the illusion of privacy, and butterflies take flight in my stomach. No one can see us back here, especially on the dark beach, but Kai doesn’t make a move. He doesn’t even look at me. He stares out at the ocean.

We are so not on the same page. I’m falling for him, while he just sees me as a colleague who shares his love of books.

“I think I should go,” I say, getting to my feet.

It’s that or I proposition him, get rejected, and spend the rest of my time at the resort too embarrassed to leave my room. It wouldn’t be so bad, since I’ve brought several print books and an e-reader in case I need backup, but it would also mean missing Cherry’s wedding. The wedding I flew all the way out here for. Yup, that’s definitely not happening.

“If I read again, will you stay?” Kai asks.

“In the dark?” I snort.

“Pretending to read last time seemed to work.”

“Wait, so you admit you were pretending?”

Kai nods, and a smile tugs on his lips. “You looked nervous, and I didn’t want you to leave. I still don’t.”

His words make my heart hurt, but I force myself to take a deep breath and just spit it out. “Look, Kai, I think you’ve got the wrong idea.”

Kai doesn’t reply. He doesn’t move a muscle, either, just like earlier when he’d been pretending to read. He stays perfectly still, and I wonder what that means. Is he waiting for me to explain? What do I even say? That I’m falling for him? That I’ve been picturing him naked since the moment we met? I’ll never live it down… or be brave enough to show my face at Cherry’s wedding.

Which is why I settle on a more vague explanation I can live with. “It’s like our taste in books. You like mystery, and I like romance.”

Palm leaves rustle overhead and the ocean waves hit the shore, filling the silence as Kai mulls over my words. A reggaeton beat plays off in the distance, where one of the resort shows is taking place. I’d give anything to be there right now instead of here. Should I just get up and go?

Kai leans forward in his seat, and for a second I think he’s about to stand. He places his hand on my arm instead. “I disagree.”

I frown. “With what? That you like mystery? Or that I like romance?”

“We’re not that different, Maeve,” he says instead. “We’re both librarians. We both love books. We’re both only children. And we both love mice… and cookies. It’s a lot more in common than most couples start with.”

I think my jaw drops. “Couples?”

“Yes, couples. In case it wasn’t obvious, I’ve been flirting with you all night.” His shoulders droop. “I thought you were flirting with me, too.”

I think I’m too shocked to form actual words. I just gape at him and try to process when he suddenly cups my face and kisses me.

Kai’s lips are firm and demanding, and he makes my toes curl in my flip-flops and my insides turn to mush. I melt into him, but the moment I do, he pulls away.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

His words are like a punch to the gut. He thinks I’m a terrible kisser. Which is totally unfair because he caught me completely off guard. I barely even got to move my lips. Which is why I take a page out of Kai’s book, grab a fistful of his shirt, and pull him in for a kiss.

This time, I give it my all… and I do mean all. I have one chance to prove to him that it could be good between us, and I plan to make it count.

His lips feel perfect against mine. Soft and sweet, not demanding like before. My toes curl in my flip-flops again, and of course Kai decides that’s the perfect moment to pull away. Why doesn’t he just buy me a bus ticket to blue clit city and be done with it?

“Maeve…” The way he says my name is filled with regret.

His rejection hurts so much I feel like I’m going to break. I jump to my feet, ready to run, but Kai grabs my hands and stands up too. He stares down at me, his expression serious. I wait for him to say ‘it’s not you, it’s me.’ I can take this. I’m going to be mature about it, and then I’m going to go back to my room and drown myself in all the ice cream room service has to offer.

“I know it’s too soon,” Kai says.

“Too soon to what?” Dump me? I guess it is, since we haven’t even started dating.

He runs his hand through his hair. “Maeve, when I first saw you at that restaurant, I was attracted to you. But—”

A sinking feeling forms in the pit of my stomach, because this is definitely a breakup.

“It’s more than that.”

I’m not sure how much more my heart can take, but I force myself to nod.

“I don’t think I’ve ever connected with anyone the way I do with you.”

I shake my head. “Kai, this is the weirdest non-breakup breakup I’ve ever had.”

He frowns. “Huh?”

“You could have just said ‘it’s not you, it’s me’,” I swallow hard and try to keep my voice light, “but you don’t owe me an explanation. Especially when that explanation is making zero sense. Just tell me you felt nothing when we kissed and—”

Kai covers my lips with his. His lips are rough and demanding. He backs me up until I hit the beach chair, and cups my ass, pulling me forward until I feel how hard he is against my belly.

I gasp.

Kai pulls away again. He’s breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling like he’s ran a marathon instead of kissing me. I know I’m panting, too, but the fact that Kai stole my breath away isn’t the point. The point is that his pants are tented, he clearly wants me, and he still pulled away.

“What is it?” I demand. “Are you married?” My gaze snaps to his left hand. No ring. No tan line. “Do you have a girlfriend? Are you an undercover secret agent who’s secretly a vampire werewolf hybrid alien who can’t be in a relationship right now?”

Okay, I know that last part made no sense, but between the blue clit, the confusion, and the frustration, I’m more than allowed.

“Shit. I’m screwing this up, bad, aren’t I?”

“If this is you telling me you’re not interested, yes, you are.”

“Of course I’m interested. Isn’t it obvious?”

I shake my head. “Not really.”

“Well, I am. I was from the moment I met you. And there is no girlfriend, or wife, or alien. I want to be with you, and if you’ll just give me a chance to prove that we’re good together—”

“Prove how? By kissing me and then pulling away?”

Kai groans. “I was trying not to rush you. I’m scared to death that you are going to walk away from me and I’m never going to find you again, Maeve. If all I have is this one night to convince you we’d be good together, I don’t want to screw this up.”

My heart melts. “You’re not screwing anything up. I’m into you. I was from the first moment I saw you. And you’re not rushing me. In fact, I think slow is overrated.”

Kai pulls his shirt over his head, revealing broad shoulders and hard abs.

“Wow,” I breathe as I take him in. I still can’t quite believe any of this is happening, or that a man who looks like that is with me. Or that he’s a librarian. Do you, like, lift encyclopedias in the stacks for exercise or something?”

“Not quite.” Kai clears his throat. “The gym has free parking. The library doesn’t.”

“You don’t have staff parking?”

“We don’t. And since I already paid for the membership…” He shrugs. “It’s a great place to listen to audiobooks.”

I take in his muscular chest and lick my lips. “You must really love audiobooks.”

Kai grins. “You know it.”

“Just so you know, I read on the couch,” I tell him as I reach for the hem of my dress. “Preferably with a glass of wine.”

“Sounds like a perfect second date.”

“I’m going to hold you to that,” I tell him and yank my dress over my head.

For a split second, I feel self-conscious. Not because I’m not proud of my couch-reading body, but because I never hook up with a man on a first date. Or really date all that much, so I’m completely out of my element.

But the way Kai is looking at me, like I’m a delicious dessert that just got served up with a new release by his favorite author, makes me forget both those things.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers hoarsely, reaching for me.

He grazes my lower lip with his thumb, and I gasp. My lip tingles with the need to kiss him, but the need to touch him wins out.

I run my hands along his bare chest, enjoying the feel of his hard muscles beneath my palms. I thought men like this only existed in books, but Kai is real and I plan to make the most of him.

Kai has other plans. He distracts me by running his thumb down my neck to my collarbone, making my breasts ache with need.

My nipples push against my lace bra. I need him to touch me, but Kai slides his thumb between my breasts to my belly button and then lower, to the waistband of my panties.

I gasp and arch my hips forward, trembling under his touch. I want to feel his thumb on me, and I’m so focused on the wetness pooling between my thighs I don’t notice him reaching for my nipple with his other hand until he pinches it.

I cry out and arch into his touch.

“You like that?” he whispers as he covers my lips with his.

“Yes,” I whimper into his mouth as he pinches my nipple again.

He runs his other hand along the waistband of my panties at my belly, teasing me. But he doesn’t go lower.

I decide I’ve had enough of his teasing, and cup him through his pants.

Kai groans and slides his fingers into my panties, right where I want them. He circles my clit and I cry out, the sound echoing down the beach, partially drowned out by the leaves rustling in the wind and the sound of the ocean waves.

I unbutton Kai’s pants and pull them down, freeing his cock. I run my hand along his length, making him groan.

“Not yet.” He grabs my hand and moves it to his chest, pressing it over his heart. “Let me make you feel good first. Tell me how you like to be touched.”

He circles my clit and slides two fingers inside me.

I moan. “Just like that, Kai. Exactly like that.”

“Do you like when I do this?” He flicks my clit again.

I whimper in response, already so close I feel like I might explode. “Yes. More. Please, Kai. I need more.”

Kai covers my lips with his. This time, he finally—finally—doesn’t pull away. He kisses me, drowning out my cries as he pumps his fingers in and out of me, bringing me closer and closer to release. The pleasure builds and I grab onto his hard biceps and hold on for dear life as my orgasm rips through me.

Wave after wave of pleasure courses through me, and I sag against Kai’s chest, completely spent. He scoops me up and sets me down on the beach chair and covers my body with his.

This time, our kiss is slow and sweet. He takes his time loving my mouth but makes no move to take things further.

“Kai,” I say between kisses. “I have a condom in my bag and I’m on the pill.”

“You come prepared,” he says as he kisses me.

I smile against his lips. “I’m a librarian.”

“So am I, and I have brought shame on our profession.”

I snort. “You really didn’t bring a condom?” How is this gorgeous man not packing twenty at a time for the number of women who throw themselves at him?

“I wasn’t prepared for this, or for you,” he says as he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear.

He picks up my bag from the sand and rummages inside it for the condom. Once he’s protected, he covers my body with his, slips his hand between my thighs, and groans. “You’re so wet.”

I gasp. “For you. Only you.”

For a split second, I worry I’m coming on too strong, but then Kai kisses me like a man drowning. The smell of the ocean and the waves hitting the shore serve as the perfect backdrop, and drown out my cry as Kai runs his cock along my slit.

“You’re so wet,” he repeats as he slides inside me.

I clench around his cock and marvel at how right this feels.

“You feel so good, baby,” Kai murmurs against my lips. “I can feel you squeezing me.”

I clench around his cock again, and he groans. He thrusts again and I gasp as his cock stretches me.

He grips my thighs, pulling them wider apart as he slams into me again. I whimper and arch my hips, urging him to move. “More, please. Don’t stop.”

Kai obliges, and I cling to him as I meet him thrust for thrust. His body feels hot against mine and the cool wind caresses my bare skin, sending my every nerve ending on edge. The pleasure inside me builds. My nipples feel so tight, and when he pinches one between his fingers, somehow instinctively knowing that’s exactly what I need, I nearly come on the spot.

“Kai!” I scream his name, no longer caring where we are.

“Come for me, Maeve.” He slips his hand between us and teases my clit.

Just like that, I shatter, screaming my release.

“Oh, Maeve.” Kai thrusts into me again, and then he’s coming, too.

I’m still trembling from the aftershocks of my release when he flips us so I’m lying on top of his chest.

I let out a satisfied sigh. “That was amazing.”

“You were amazing,” Kai tells me.

I snuggle into his arms, and listen to the sound of the ocean waves hitting the shore. It’s a beautiful night, and I wish we could stay out here forever, but the distant sound of voices reminds me of where we are.

“We should probably get dressed,” I tell Kai.

“Only for however long it takes to get back to my room. Because I plan to undress you again and keep you naked, at least until breakfast.”

I grin as he slides off me. “Are you an egg and bacon man?”

“Pancakes.” Kai slips on his boxers. “You?”

“Waffles.” I slip my dress over my head without my panties or bra, both of which are covered in sand.

“Waffles?” Kai places his hand over his heart, though all I can think about is how hot he looks shirtless. “No wonder you thought we were too different.”

“I did not.” I stuff my bra and panties in my purse. “I was trying to tell you I was attracted to you, but that I didn’t think you were attracted to me.”

“By telling me we had different tastes in books?”

“Um, yeah. I read steamy books and you read clean ones. It’s obvious.”

“It’s really not.”

“Is too.”

Kai chuckles. “Does this mean we’re having our first argument?”

“Maybe we are.” I place my hands on my hips for good measure.

Kai grins. “I’ve heard good things about makeup sex. And I definitely want to make up with you. Because I plan to keep you around for a long time.”

He pulls me into his arms and gives me a slow, luxurious kiss.

Thank you for reading A TABLE FOR TWO. I hope you enjoyed spending time with Maeve and Kai. For exclusive bonus scenes and early access to all my books, support me on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/miaverse. Want to know what happens to Maeve’s librarian friend, Emma? You’re going to love her story in MISTER FIT: https://geni.us/MisterFitPage You’re also going to love HER DONUT SHIFTERS by Mia Sands writing as Mia Harlan: https://geni.us/HerDonutShifters

About the Author

Mia is a USA Today & International Bestselling Author who writes quirky books guaranteed to make you laugh. A librarian by day and author by night, she writes as Mia Harlan and Mia Sands. You can find her on Facebook.

BREAKOUT

MIGNON MYKEL

CHAPTER ONE

NICO

“WHAT A FREAKING DAY,” my buddy Porter says as we stand on the wooden dock that extends into Lake Superior. Chuckling, I lift my New Glarus and take a sip from the amber bottle.

It’s the last day of the Prescott annual lake house gathering and we’re on supervisor duty, watching as the older kids jump off a platform into the lake. Every August for one weekend before the season starts, Caleb and Sydney Prescott open their northern Wisconsin lake house to family—and that term includes guys who play for Caleb in San Diego.

I still think I get the invite more because I’ve been Porter’s right hand man on and off the ice since his rookie season, rather than because I’m a valuable asset to the team, but I’ll happily accept either way.

It’s always a good time up here in northern Wisconsin. Usually not as exciting as this afternoon was, though.

I came into the Enforcers-Prescott fold after Porter’s brother Jonny got divorced but I got to meet the ex today…

That was fun.

“When are you heading back to San Diego?” Porter asks, and I shrug a shoulder.

“Not really sure. I think I’m going to swing by my parents’ this week. Probably get back around the fifth. You guys?”

“Ash has a couple of shoots scheduled this week, and then a Labor Day wedding.”

I grimace. Asher’s a great photographer. Her portfolio is mostly families and babies, but something about being a wedding photographer feels like a lot of work to me.

Porter catches my look and nods in agreement. “They said they only want her for an hour—ceremony and a few other pictures—but I’ll believe it when I see it. She’ll have her backup photographer with her though, in case she has any problems.”

“Someone’s phone!” is yelled from one of the house’s many decks and I look over my shoulder. The woman of the moment is waving the device in the air. When my gaze meets Porter’s wife’s, she points it in my direction. “Check your pockets. Pretty sure it’s yours!”

I tap my thighs and sure enough…

Groaning, I wave her off. “It’s fine,” I yell back. “I’ll get it when the kids come in.”

“It says ICE…” Asher supplies, and I’m hit with the knowledge that she knows…because my contact isn’t ICE—it’s ICE-T—and she left off the distinction.

“Who the hell is your ICE?” Porter asks, a frown on his face. “And should I be fucking concerned I’m not your emergency contact? Or is it still your mom?” He laughs at the idea.

“I change it based on where I’m at—” which is semi-true— “Why? You want to be my ICE? I’ll put you in rotation,” I joke. “You got this? I’ll be right back.” …Because this is a call I’ve been waiting on.

My friend grins, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’m good, but send my girl down here. The twins should still be napping. Gotta get what time I can with her…”

“Your damn fault for knocking her up again,” I laugh, walking back down the pier. I don’t need to look over my shoulder to see he has his middle finger directed at my retreating back.

Not many people know that Asher’s pregnant, and with another set of multiples, but like I said…

I’ve been Porter’s right hand man for a few years.

I also spent a lot of time with them the first go around, and I like to think I know a thing or two about a pregnant Asher.

Granted, she pukes her entire pregnancy so it’s really not that hard to spot. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole locker room is aware by the time training camp starts in four weeks.

“At least I’m getting adult time!” is Porter’s final remark as I leave.

Oh, the irony, I think, the image of a certain blonde flight attendant in my head.

I jog up the sandy embankment and take the deck stairs by two, until I meet up with Asher at the landing. When she hands me my now silent phone, she has a silly grin on her face.

“Whatever you think you know,” I say, taking the proffered phone, “just keep it to yourself.” No sense in denying. Asher’s a smart girl.

“How long?” She’s still grinning, but truth be told, it’s not Asher I’m worried about knowing.

It’s her husband and his entire family.

“Your reception thing,” I tell her honestly. Porter and Asher eloped right after he and I were traded to San Diego, but had a reception out here after Peyton and Presley were born. “Your hus—”

“Nico!” Asher cuts me off. “That was two years ago!” She looks off for a brief moment before nodding. “It was two years ago, this weekend!”

I’m well aware.

Time and logistics haven’t been on our side, although with each passing day I realize I want more with her. From her.

And I know that we have to have the conversation sooner or later.

“We met then, and started meeting up last—no, you know, why am I telling you this?” I laugh and point to the dock. “Your husband wants you. I mean, he needs… Fuck. Just… Porter told me to send you down.”

“You’re cute when flustered, Nico,” she steps around me, “and I’m pretty sure you gave Porter shit left and right when we first started seeing each other so… payback?”

“Asher…” I warn her retreating back. She gives me a grin over her shoulder, but then shakes her head.

“Your secret’s safe with me. For now.”

My phone dings in my hand with an incoming text message. The device wakes up with a shake of my wrist, and I pull the notification bar down.

ICE-T: I have two minutes.

Not wanting to take the call outside, I head into the room I occupied this weekend, closing the door behind me. A lot of the players who stayed have left already, and I passed the Prescott wives and sisters in the kitchen.

I should be safe to have my conversation.

Hitting the call back icon, I sit on the bed, facing the door…in case someone decides they want to chat.

“Hey,” she answers. “We’re boarding in just a couple of minutes, but I should be in Minneapolis-St. Paul in about four hours.”

“You’ll be at the Radisson?”

“Always.”

“I’ll head out of here in thirty or so, then. Should get there around the same time. You said it’s a twenty-hour layover?”

Usually she requests this weekend off specifically for the lake house gathering—and with her seniority on her airline and base, she almost always gets her requests met—but she made a line change with a co-worker that gives her a full seven-days off after this four-day trip.

“Yes,” she confirms. “The shuttle call will be at noon.”

“Plenty of time,” I grin, already anticipating the hours we get.

“Okay, I’ve gotta go.”

“Be safe.”

She laughs and I can imagine her shaking her head at me. “I’ll be sure to the tell the pilots to be extra careful, because I have plans.”

“Whatever, T,” I laugh back. “See you soon.”

CHAPTER TWO

NICO

IT ALWAYS TAKES time to get out of a Prescott house—whether it’s up at the lake, either of Porter and Asher’s homes, or Coach’s place.

Goodbyes are dragged out, some kid forgets to show you something, then a plate needs to be made so you have dinner later…

Always a production.

Before being in San Diego, I played for Charleston, where—as a veteran—I was paired with a rookie Porter.

The Rockets had a good atmosphere, very buddy-buddy, but the Prescotts take the club to an entirely different familial level. There’s Caleb coaching, Porter on ice, Jonny was between the pipes but announced his retirement shortly after we lost the Stanley Cup game in June, their sister Mykaela is in player relations, another sister Avery is the agent for a number of players on the team… The only Prescott sibling not attached to the club is McKenna, but her husband plays in D.C.

As for the non-Prescott players? Regardless if you’re in San Diego for a season or the length of your career, you’re family.

While driving across Wisconsin and toward Minnesota, I’ve been watching the flight tracker that tells me if her flight is delayed or landing on time. It may have taken me a while to get on the road, but her trip took less time than normal. She’ll probably get to the hotel before I do.

Sure enough, I’m barely crossing over the Mississippi, twenty minutes out, when the Bluetooth speaker in my rental cuts through the radio.

“Hey. You’re there?” I ask after connecting.

“I am. How far out are you?”

“Fifteen minutes or so.”

“Okay. I think I’m going to take a shower quickly, then. I’m in 213.”

“See you soon.”

“See you soon.” There’s a smile in her voice, and fuck, I can’t wait to see her again.

During the season, our schedules don’t line up the best. Granted, she bids on her lines—her schedule—and plays with it enough that she gets the flights and dates she wants.

Basically… Fuck.

If she wanted, our schedules could mesh better. Which is why I’m planning on having the conversation with her tonight.

The conversation where I tell her I’d like to be more intentional with our time together.

We started this “situationship” last year, after talking on and off for a year.

And the sex is great.

But I’ve noticed that I hate our time apart. I think about her all the damn time. I can picture her in my place.

I’d like something more permanent.

Last year, us keeping things under wraps…I got it. We moved from talking to fucking, and while she’s not a Prescott by blood, she might as well be.

Her father is Noah Prescott’s best friend, and Porter and his siblings grew up with Teagan like they were cousins.

Hell, Porter talks about her like he does his sisters.

And guys don’t fuck around with their friend’s sisters.

I want more from her now though.

I need more.

The thought of her saying no makes me nervous but I’m not getting any younger.

I’m way past the Snapchat age. I’m over learning favorite colors and foods.

Being an athlete doesn’t help matters, either. Most of the time, players are meeting their partners through friends and teammates, if they didn’t meet someone in college or hell, even high school. Outside of that, it’s hard to trust the intentions of the other person.

“Your destination is on the right,” the GPS interrupts my thoughts.

Even though it’s early evening on a Sunday, Mall of America looks busy. The surface parking lots are full, and I see groups of people milling around the south entrance. I pull into the Radisson-specific garage—finding a spot is easier than I anticipated. Grabbing my back pack, I bring it over my shoulder as I hit the lock button on the car’s fob, heading inside. This is a layover we’ve made work for us before and as I enter the hotel, I text Teagan to let her know I’m here and heading her way.

Once to her room, I lift my hand and rap my knuckles against the solid fire door.

The sound of the door’s swing bar opening and the deadbolt disengaging happen nearly simultaneously, and then the door is open and I’m being pulled inside by a vision in an oversized shirt.

Chuckling, I drop my bag on the floor and wrap my arms around Teagan.

“You’re here.” She smiles up at me, wrapping her legs around my hips as I lift her from the ground. The room smells of her shower, and I dip my nose into the crevice of her neck, breathing her in.

“Fuck, I missed you.” The words are muffled against her skin.

She leans back in my embrace but doesn’t unhook her legs. “How was the drive?”

“Uneventful.”

“And the lake house?”

I deposit us both on the bed, pressing her down into the mattress. “A good time, like always.” Her limbs loosen, but she doesn’t leave me. “You wearing my shirt, T?” Grinning, I attempt to pull away, but if anything, she pulls me closer.

“Shhh,” she laughs, “pay no mind to the clothes. They’re just going to end up on the floor, anyway.”

“You can’t keep stealing my shirts,” I tease, dropping my head so I can finally claim her lips with my own.

“But they’re so comfy,” she answers against my kiss.

Like always, when we’re together we’re explosive. These aren’t sweet, miss you kisses.

These are open mouth, exploring, demanding kisses. Ones that hint to what’s about to come.

It’s been a month since we’ve been together this way and my body instantly responds to hers.

“Miss me, big guy?” Teagan drops a foot to the bed, but only so she can grind herself from underneath me. There’s not much fabric to my basketball shorts to hide my growth, but that means there’s also not a lot of fabric to disguise how wet she is.

“Did you just…?” I push myself to the side to check if she left a spot on my shorts, just as she laughs.

“I hope you brought another pair of clothes, hockey boy. You’ve got a wet spot.”

I kneel between her splayed legs and push the shirt—yes, it’s mine—upward, exposing her bare pussy.

“There was no sense putting on a new pair of underwear for five minutes, knowing they were going to get wet right away anyway.”

“You anticipated this as much as I did?” I have my hands on her thighs, my thumbs brushing slowly back and forth precariously close to her glistening center.

“Dude, I pregamed,” she deadpans. “I was wet the moment we got off the phone before my flight.”

“You pre—”

“I got myself off in the shower, yes. But you do it better.”

“Teagan!”

“Nico!” She waves a hand between us. “I’m open and waiting for you to show me just how much better you do it.”

“Well, I don’t know… Your fingers, my mouth… Maybe I should just…” I press my thumb to her clit, and her hips jerk. “Yeah, I think that’s a fair comparison…”

Her hand grasps my wrist quickly. “Dominico D’Amaco, your mouth.”

“I think someone’s forgotten the rules. Four weeks away makes for a mouthy girl.”

“Then it’s a damn good thing that I’ll be with you for a week.”

Momentarily distracted by the news, I ask, “You’re going to come out to San Diego? We talked about it but I wasn’t sure…” I knew she was taking the seven days, but she never said she was spending them with me.

“Jesus, Nico, can we talk later?” She moves her hips, pushing her clit against my thumb in a small circle.

Considering I have something to look forward to, I let the bedroom teasing go and drop to lay between her legs.

CHAPTER THREE

TEAGAN

THE MOMENT NICO’S lips surround my clit, I let out a sigh, closing my eyes to enjoy the magic he brings. I may have caressed myself to orgasm in the shower, but it was done to thoughts of this right here.

I’ve always enjoyed sex, but sex with Nico is a twelve on a scale of ten.

The first time, I thought maybe it had been the anticipation from talking to each other for so long. Flirting. The nearly sexy pictures but never actually the full deal. It all gradually grew until one day he asked to take me for a drink at a wine bar I like back near my base.

After the first romp, we did it again for good measure, just to make sure we were as compatible as it seemed.

Then it became a thing. During the off season, he’d spend time with me, either at my home or wherever I had a long layover—like tonight. During the hockey season, though, I have to rely on west coast trips, and I don’t always get them. Most of the trips that fly into LAX end up being international trips, and sure, I’m quite senior, but not that senior. Not senior enough to get as many international trips as I’d like, in order to see him more.

“You’re not paying attention,” Nico growls against my core, pushing two fingers into me.

“Shit,” I moan, tipping my hips up, begging his fingers to find my pleasure point.

“Watch.”

I push up on my elbows. Satisfied, Nico grins wickedly at me before going back to work. It’s hard to pay attention, watching him, feeling him…

I squeeze down on his fingers, the need to come hitting hard. It takes everything in me to not drop my head back and get lost in sensation… One more push of his fingers against my clamped down center, and I know I’ll come…

But instead of continuing to finger fuck me while sucking my clit, Nico pushes away.

“Nico,” I pout. “No…”

He doesn’t listen. He pushes away from the bed—goes as far as getting off the damn thing—and grins down at me, nearly spread eagle over the comforter.

“I think a good edge will do the trick.”

I adjust my weight to my left arm to bring my right up. “I’ll fini—”

“Ah!” He stops my hand before I can make contact. “No, ma’am.”

“Did you just call me…”

With my wrist in his hand, he pins me back flat again. “I did. What are you going to do about it?”

“Nothing if you fuck me.”

“You wouldn’t do anything, even if I didn’t.”

God, his grin is my undoing. It makes laugh lines come out by his eyes, and the light brown orbs sparkle down at me.

Must. Not. Give. In. “You wanna find out?”

“Not particularly.”

“That’s what I thought.” When he remains hovering over me, I lift my brows. “You gonna get undressed?”

“Do I get to bring my shirt back home with me?”

“That’s a silly question.” No.

“Backatcha, T.” Pushing away, he quickly makes work removing his shirt and shorts, and as I watch him expose his cock, I momentarily wish I’d been in charge of lowering his shorts.

I’d have taken his cock in my mouth…

“Later,” he says, stalking to his back pack, butt-ass naked. When he strolls back, a condom packet in hand and his cock bobbing back and forth and up and down, I push to sit and then go to my knees. I can practically feel the weight of the mushroomed tip against my tongue.

“No. Now,” I answer, reaching for his hips, but he chuckles and dodges my hands.

“I’m three seconds away from blowing my load, Teagan. Let me sink in you.” His words are said as he rips the package with his teeth, then pulls the latex out with the same fingers that were in me moments earlier.

“Ugh, fine.” Of course, I say it good naturedly. Nico likes my blow jobs, so I know he means it when he says I can later.

“You gonna take off my shirt?”

I watch as he rolls the condom in place, semi-tranced, before pulling the extra-large Hanes, San Diego Enforcers provided, shirt from my body. After tossing it to the ground, I have a second of regret—I threw it closer to his things than mine. I may very well not be going home with that shirt.

But Nico doesn’t allow me to dwell on it long.

He’s got me back flat on the bed and hooks a thigh with his arm, opening me wide, before pushing his full length in with one sure thrust.

“So fucking wet,” he murmurs, holding still, pelvis to pelvis. “So good.” Then he slams his mouth down to mine, and our kisses are again frenzied, matching the energy of his thrusts.

We feel so good together. The way he fills me, the way our bodies fit…

He wasn’t lying when he said he was about to blow. Nico’s thrusts become erratic, and he hooks my other leg, effectively lifting my hips into a new position as he pounds against me.

“Nico!” I bring my hands to my chest, pinching both nipples between my index fingers and thumbs.

“Yes. Roll your nipples, T. Get yourself there. Let me see you.”

“It feels so good,” I moan, pinching harder as his cock strokes every inner nerve ending it can. “I’m so close, Nico. So, so close…”

Then he’s pinching my clit—when did his hand get there?—and my hips buck off the mattress. “Nico!” My legs involuntarily squeeze against Nico’s strong arms.

“Fuck, yes, T. Yes. Squeeze my cock, yeah. Yes. Fuck, fuck, fuck…!” He releases my clit and lands with his knuckles on either side of my body, slamming his hips against me once more. “Fuck!” I’m practically folded in half, but the way his cock feels—swollen and jerking with each jet of cum—has me orgasming again.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take him long to realize how he’s maneuvered my body, and he gently releases my legs, although he does remain seated in me. He easily has eighty pounds on me, but I’m happy to lay here, his weight a calming blanket, until he’s ready to move.

Contentedly, I run my nails up and down his back slowly, and when he starts to press slow, lazy kisses to my collarbone, I know he’s come back to earth.

“You’re gonna need another shower,” he whispers against my skin.

“There’s a reason why I didn’t wash my hair…”

“Do we shower now, or wait until later?” Nico lifts his head to look down at me. “Either way, I have to clean up and get rid of this condom.”

“Let’s just clean up for now. I give it an hour before we go again.”

CHAPTER FOUR

NICO

I STILL HAVEN’T TOLD her I want more from her.

It’s nearly one in the morning, and we’ve fucked every way to Tuesday. Who needs Kama Sutra when you’re as good together as we are?

The television is on but the sound down. Teagan prefers to sleep with it on and with the noise. It doesn’t matter to me; I barely hear the dang thing.

She’s sleeping comfortably against my side, her head on my shoulder.

We do this… We fuck and we sleep together, and it all seems like a normal relationship…but no one knows about it.

I don’t feel like her dirty secret, but I’d fucking hate it if she ever felt like mine.

Not sharing our relationship originally was due to the fact that the Prescott fold is all about the forever thing. Marriage and babies and love for everyone.

Having Porter find out that I was fucking his “cousin” without any thoughts on forever wasn’t high on my list. It wasn’t like I was just looking for a fuck buddy but…at the time, I wasn’t looking for a relationship, either.

But here we are, one, two years later, and I’m more in a relationship with Teagan than I’ve been with any female in probably five years.

I should close my eyes…

Find sleep…

T is thoroughly spent—I did that, I think with a small grin—and isn’t likely to wake up until morning. No use worrying about the future now…

WE ORDER room service for breakfast, eggs and toast for me, and a fruit and yogurt parfait for Teagan.

“There’s no way that’s going to hold you over,” I tell her, taking a bite of toast.

“First flight is only ninety minutes, then a two hour layover, change of planes. I’ll grab something then,” she says, stirring granola in.

She almost looks like she’s dreading something…

“You okay?”

“I’m good. Just thinking.”

“About?”

“Wednesday.”

The first day of her seven-off.

Is she thinking twice about what she said yesterday? Does she not want to spend it with me?

“I never even asked if you were going to be back in San Diego,” she says with a flippant shrug, although I’m sensing she’s not feeling as carefree as she’s showing. “Are you visiting with your parents?”

“I can be back in San Diego.”

Her lips quirk to the side. “No need to sound so excited.”

Pushing my breakfast plate to the side, I reach out to grab her hand. “I’m fucking excited. Seven days? You and me? Absolutely excited.”

“Even though we’re not… You know.”

“About that.” I give her wrist a gentle squeeze before releasing it. “I’d like to date you, T. Officially. Labels and everything.”

I don’t expect it when she looks down at the table, avoiding my eyes.

Fuck. She doesn’t want what I do.

“I can’t keep doing this, T,” I whisper. “This sneaking around behind the Prescotts’ backs. I want you. I want to be with you. I want whatever time you can give me, and I’ll do the same for you. Yeah, I know this coming week, most of the boys will still be in Wisconsin. I know Porter and Asher aren’t getting back to California for another two weeks. This week, it’s safe. You can be at my place and no one will be the wiser… But I want them to know, T.”

The quiet is deafening.

“There weren’t supposed to be feelings,” she finally says, still avoiding my eyes. “That’s what I told myself. I’d have fun with you and take what I could. But each trip, each layover, each night we have…” She swallows and looks at me, her hazel eyes swimming in tears. “There are feelings. And they scare me.”

My heart swells in my chest at her proclamation. “I have feelings too, Teagh.” I’m not sure that I can label them love but I definitely feel like the more time she gives me, the closer to that I’ll be. “I crave our time together. I want to be able to hold your hand in public, and shit, I want Porter to give me hell because I’m doing it.”

“I don’t want kids,” Teagan blurts out, her eyes wide and the tears spilling over as she shakes her head. “I don’t want kids,” she repeats, softly this time. “And you’d be such a good dad, Nico. So you see, these feelings screw everything up because I know I could love you with the right amount of time, but it will hurt like hell when you find someone else to be your forever.”

Frowning, I reach for her hand again. “Why are you putting an end to something that hasn’t even begun yet?”

“I can’t ask you to not be a dad, Nico.”

“Did I ever give you the impression that I wanted kids?”

“You’re so good with Peyton and Presley…”

“And I’m happy that the twins have beds in a house that isn’t mine.”

“You say that now…”

“T, I never really gave much thought on becoming a dad. I don’t know that guys think about it at the same length girls do. But I’d rather be with you than have mini versions of me running around.”

“But—”

“I was a shit teenager, Teagan. Don’t need another go-round with that,” I say, trying to get her to smile. “But you? Spending time with you? I’ll take that.”

“I can’t ask—” she tries again, but I cut her off.

“You’re not asking, T. I’m telling you—I don’t need kids. Don’t want them. But I do want you.”

“I want you too…”

I couldn’t stop my grin if I tried. “So we can—”

“Maybe not like…loudly announce on social media, or anything.” A smile is back on her face. “But we don’t need to hide it.”

“Damn, so no big reveal party?”

Finally, she laughs, and all feels right again. “No. No big reveal party.”

Tugging on her hand, I pull until she stands, then pull some more until she lands in my lap. “I’ll take it. However I get you, I’ll take it.”

We kiss, this time not as frenzied as last night but with a new level of feeling…

I didn’t think things could get better but here she goes, proving me wrong.

And then she has to ruin things with a grin against my lips.

“So, does that mean I can keep the shirt?”

Enforcers of San Diego

About the Author

Mignon Mykel, author of reader-favorite Prescott Family, loves books, dreaming, and espresso. When not writing, you can find her reading, hiking, or hanging out with her goofy mastiff-ish dog, Hager.

She loves to read books in large worlds where many books down the road, you get a glimpse at a former favorite couple. It is because of that, that every Mignon Mykel title you read is connected to any other title in some shape or form. However, everything is a complete standalone.

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THE COOKING INCIDENT

BEN & HOLLY (STUMBLING INTO HIM) BONUS SCENE

MOLLY O’HARE

“WHERE IN THE hell did he hide my stepstool? And does he really think that’s gonna stop me?”

Ben Richman leaned on the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched his curvy wife, Holly, grumble as she paced around the kitchen trying to… Well, he assumed cook something, which was an instant cause for alarm since this was Holly, after all.

His curvy, drop-dead gorgeous, trips over thin air, should win the award for the most klutzy person in the world, who could not cook at all, love of his life.

He didn’t call her Grace for nothing. Holly was as graceful as one could get. If by graceful, Ben meant she had a superpower to walk into walls, among other things, of course.

But hey, it was fine by him. Swooping in to save his accident-prone wife was an excuse to get his hands on her.

That would always be a win-win if you asked him. Although, his constant need to make sure Holly wasn’t about to accidentally make him a single parent left him lurking around corners when she’d get extra quiet.

Which is how Ben ended up where he was right now. He should have known Holly would be up to no good when he found her scrolling through the latest Cooking Can Be For Anyone blog the other night.

It was only a matter of time.

Something nudged at Ben’s leg, causing him to look down to see their very opinionated Corgi, Lord Waffles, giving him a concerned look, then darting his attention back to Holly.

Ben swore he should’ve been used to it by now, but even after all this time, the fact Waffles acted more human than dog constantly surprised him.

When Waffles nudged his leg again, narrowing his eyes at him, Ben shook his head. “Why am I the one who always has to save her? Why not give it a shot yourself?” he whispered, even though Ben knew he didn’t need to. When Holly was in one of her moods, there was no breaking her focus until something or someone intervened.

Waffles huffed out a grunt as his eyes flicked toward Holly and then back to him as if to say get on with it.

“Okay. One… two… Wait. I think I need to be farther away.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Ben shook his head as he watched Holly take a few steps back, as he assumed it would give her more room for a running leap to jump on top of the counter.

Yep, this was going to end in a disaster.

It wouldn’t surprise him if they needed to take a ride to Richman Veterinary Hospital to stitch her up… again.

Waffles whined from beside him before he trotted over to Holly, bumping his nose into her leg.

He had to give it to the pup for at least trying.

“Shhh,” Holly whisper-shouted. “You’re gonna rat me out. I just need to get to the mixer on the top shelf before—”

“Before what?” Ben pushed off the doorframe.

At his words, she screamed. And, in pure Holly fashion, she ended up spinning in a few circles, tripping over her own two feet — although Waffles might’ve helped with that. She was two seconds from ending up on her ass when Ben leaped into action and caught her under her arms.

“Hey!” Holly pushed her wayward hair out of her face as she glared at him. “Why’d you make me lose my concentration?”

“Holly,” Ben warned. “Are you really gonna blame this on me?”

“Who else am I gonna blame? I almost fell over. If you hadn’t come out of nowhere to scare me, none of this would’ve happened.”

He pinned her with his stare.

“Okay, well, there might have been some sort of incident.”

“You don’t say?”

“Ben Richman,” she growled. “I am perfectly capable of getting the mixer down myself.” Holly crossed her arms over her ample chest, with that adorable pout on her face Ben loved so much.

“That’s why you were about to catapult yourself onto the counter?” He cocked his brow. “You and I both know it would only end in one of two ways.”

Holly narrowed her eyes at him as she pursed her lips together in a standoff. “Shut your face.”

“Holly…”

“Fine. Whatever. With my track record, it might not have been my brightest idea, but I promised to make something for the fall potluck at the library.”

“You promised to bring something. No one said anything about you making anything.” Ben tapped his chin. “Actually, if I remember correctly, Mildred specifically said you weren’t allowed to cook anything.”

Holly huffed. “I was gonna put it in a plastic container from the store.”

“Nice.” Ben quirked his brow. “So when everyone gets food poisoning, you can blame the manufacturer?”

“Ben!” she grunted. “And when do I listen to Mildred? If I did, we’d have a sex dungeon in the house.” Holly scrunched her nose. “No, it’d probably be in the library. For an old lady, the ideas she has… hoo-boy.”

Ben threw his head back and laughed. “But you’ve got to love her.”

“Says you.”

“I do.” Ben’s eyes softened on his wife. “Now, what in the hell are you doing?”

Waffles barked.

“Don’t you agree with him, Mister, or no treats for you.” Holly snapped her face to their dog as she glared at him. Waffles then had the audacity to twitch his tiny brow at her. “Don’t give me that look. I’m serious. No treats for you.”

Waffles scoffed, turning up his nose before walking out of the kitchen, his head held high. When he got to the doorway, though, he turned to face them, his eyes hard.

With one last snort aimed directly in their direction, he walked out of the room.

“I can’t tell if you just offended him, or if we need to be worried that he might be planning something?” Ben chuckled with a shake of his head.

Holly shrugged. “It’s Waffles. When’s it not both?”

“True.” Ben nodded, his eyes honing in on the items placed on the countertop. “Wanna tell me what you’ve got going on here?”

“Nothing,” Holly innocently replied, her eyes rounding.

“Nu-uhh.” Ben shook his head. “Explain to me what you’ve got going on here. They’re my friends too, and as soon as you poison them, they’re gonna blame me.”

Holly’s hand shot to her chest. “Jerk.”

“Am I wrong?” Ben cocked his brow.

“Yes,” she hissed. “Not all intestinal problems after a potluck are my fault.”

“They are when you pass off your cooking as store-bought.”

“If I don’t, they won’t even try what I made.”

Ben’s whole face lit at Holly’s adorable pout. “With good reason.” He pointed to the ingredients on the kitchen island. “Why do you have a bag of powdered sugar on the counter?”

Holly mumbled, her arms crossing over her chest. “We’re out of flour, so I grabbed the powdered sugar. I don’t see why you’re giving me crap about it. They look exactly the same.”

Both of Ben’s brows nearly shot off his head. “That’s not how it works. We’ve had this conversation before. And I have a sinking suspicion the Allspice is out of place.”

“It says it has cinnamon in it!”

“For the love of…” Ben walked over to his wife, his hands going to her hips, pulling her in closer as he kissed the crown of her head. “You amaze me at times. I’m surprised you survived until I came around.”

Holly pushed out of his arms. “Hey! That’s rude. Me and Waffles were doing fine before you shoved your way into my life.”

“That so?” He laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he took in her annoyed stance, which only made Ben want to laugh harder.

“Yes. And while we’re at it. You were the one with the rogue frisbee that hit me in the face. I was just minding my own business at the dog park and then boom, I was on my ass.”

Ben barked out a laugh as he easily grabbed Holly by the waist as he hoisted her onto the counter before nudging between her spread legs. “I believe I’ve more than enough made up for that. Don’t you think?”

Holly scrunched her nose, but Ben saw her smile. “The sex is okay…”

“Just okay?” Ben cocked his head to the side as he squeezed her ass, bringing her closer.

“Ehh.”

“You little shit.” Ben grabbed the back of Holly’s neck, yanking her forward as he pulled her into a deep kiss. It was only a few seconds before he pulled back to rest his forehead on hers.

“Why’d you stop?” she panted, her eyes full of heat, which he knew matched his own.

“Reminding you what we’ve got.”

“Oh, I know. Trust me.” Holly’s smile lit the room as she wiggled on the counter. “Now, if you’d just get down the mixer for me, you can be on your merry way.”

Ben laughed as he pulled her into another kiss. “Not on your life.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’d prefer it if our friends still liked us afterward.” Ben leaned forward and kissed the tip of her nose.

“You are absolutely no fun.” She pushed him away. As soon as she was free, she wiggled to the edge of the counter, and with no surprise to Ben, stumbled off the edge and right into his arms. “Geez. I can’t even make a dramatic exit without you coming to the rescue.”

“Would you have rather I moved and let you fall into the sink?”

“It would’ve been nice.”

Ben barked out another laugh. “I’ll try and remember that.” He kissed her head once more. He released her and then strolled over to the wall with the scorch marks on it. The same wall that held one of his favorite things in the house. Other than Holly, the kids, and their pets, of course.

“Don’t you dare, Ben Richman,” Holly growled from behind him. “If you put a check mark, a star, or whatever the hell you choose on today’s date, you’re sleeping on the couch.”

Ben’s megawatt smile beamed at Holly as he looked over his shoulder to see her hands on her hips, her eyes shooting daggers in his direction. “Babe, what do you want me to do? I can’t not mark The Cooking Incident calendar. What would John think?” Ben opened the drawer next to him and grabbed a pen, still keeping his eyes on his wife.

“John can kiss my ass.” She threw her hands in the air. “I can’t believe he found someone to make a custom calendar to mark all the times I’m in the kitchen trying to cook. I will never forgive him.”

“I think Emma, Mildred, and your dad all chipped in too.” Ben uncapped the pen, his laughter filling the room.

“You better not!”

Ben shrugged, the corner of his lips quirking. “It’d be rude not to use the gift someone bought you.”

“Bennnnn.”

“I’m doing this out of love.”

“The hell you are.” Holly stomped over to him to grab the pen, but Ben held it out of reach as he laughed. “I don’t think so, Grace.”

“Stop calling me Grace. And you can’t mark anything I didn’t actually cook. Plus, the fire department wasn’t called. I thought this was only to mark the times they ended up here.”

Ben’s laugh deepened as he held the pen higher. “No, that’s when I use the red marker. The local station appreciates the statistics.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me.” Ben capped the pen and held open his arms.

It only took Holly a few seconds to sigh before leaning into his embrace. “You’re still a jerk, but I do.”

“Good. Now let’s get this place cleaned up, then we’ll head to the store and get something to bring that won’t cause any issues at the potluck.”

“I still don’t see where that’s fair?” Holly grunted, but then poked out her lower lip, giving him puppy dog eyes. She must have learned that trick from Waffles since that’s exactly how he gets away with everything. “I can make something I know I can.”

“You can make something alright, but I think people want it to be edible.” Ben placed a kiss on her cheek. “How about a compromise? I won’t mark the calendar, and I’ll do that thing you like with my tongue, in exchange for us not giving food poisoning to our friends.”

Holly’s eyes widened as her breath hitched before a mischievous smile appeared on her face. “What about you doing the thing with your tongue, we throw the calendar in the trash like I keep trying to do, but somehow it keeps reappearing… and I buy a cake from the local bakery and decorate it myself?”

Ben eyed her for a moment his lips quirking with amusement. “Pastries & Paws?”

“Of course.”

“Only if Riley agrees to watch you decorate it.”

Holly pulled back, her hand flying to her chest. “You don’t trust me to decorate the cake on my own? What harm can I do?”

Ben lifted his brows.

“Fine. Whatever. We’re getting dog and cat treats while we’re there.” She nodded her head. “And I’m getting a croissant.”

“Whatever you say, love.” As Holly moved to walk away Ben grabbed her arm, pulling her back. “Love you.” He kissed her lips softly, resting his forehead on hers.

“Mostly love you too.”

“I can always add the check mark if you want?”

Holly grumbled with a shake of her head. “Remind me again why I love you?”

“Because I’m always there to catch you when you fall.”

About the Author

Molly O’Hare is a USA Today Bestselling author of curvy/plus-sized romance books. Molly’s obsessed with all things animals, mainly Corgis, and body positivity. She grew up with severe dyslexia: trust her, spelling is not her strong suit. Over the years, she’s become a huge advocate of “just because you learn something a little differently than others doesn’t make you less.” To help herself fall asleep, she’d create stories in her head, always picking up where she left off the night before. Molly figured if she got enjoyment out of her imagination, others might as well. So here we are.

To find out more or sign up for her newsletter, check out her social page on her website.

BRUTE

MORGAN JANE MITCHELL

CHAPTER ONE

“AH. Chris. There’s no way it’s going to fit.”

“Just a little bit further, Jayne. Oh, come on. It’s almost in.”

“I can’t. It freaking hurts.”

“Be patient. I promise you, it’ll be worth it.”

“Maybe for you.” I gasped. “Ouch. It hurts too much.”

“Relax and let me do it.”

Uncurling my toes, I stretched my neck to the ceiling. I held my breath while I let him take over. “Is it all the way in yet?”

“Not quite. Only a little way to go,” his voice strained. “Ah. Yes. I think it’s in.”

“Really?” I tried to wiggle. “It’s too tight. I’m not going to be able to walk tomorrow.”

“Now promise me you’ll wear them to bed.”

Hitting him on the shoulder, I rolled my eyes. “I can’t believe she bought the wrong size.”

“It says it’s a seven.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.” I squeezed my foot into the second candy apple red stiletto all on my own. “Who the hell wears these on their wedding day?”

“Your friend has great taste.” Chris ran his hand down the back of my calf. “I’ve never seen you in fuck me shoes. I could get used to this.”

Crossing my arms, I huffed. “You won’t see me in them again after tomorrow.”

Oh. I didn’t know how right I was…

Never run in heels.

I should’ve let the bastard walk away, but I had to give him a piece of my mind.

“Christopher Jackson Noolan,” I bellowed.

He turned around, giving me a death glare. His normally stylish hair, now wet from the heat, stuck to his head in clumps. Yet, somehow his white linen shirt, billowing, and safari khakis, light years away from his usual attire, made him even more handsome.

Picking up the hem of my white dress, I stepped toward him and pushed out my chin. “I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man in Africa,” I declared, feeling the words deep.

His hands shot up in a show of ultimate aggravation before turning away from me entirely.

I ran after him.

I wasn’t finished.

Chris, the love of my life merely three minutes ago, continued to stomp off like a child throwing a fit into the honest-to-God jungle. All I’d done was catch the silly bouquet and do what any other thirty-year-old woman would do.

I didn’t make a fuss about it.

It wasn’t like Chris, my on-and-off-again boyfriend of the last ten years had ever asked me. Yes, ten years. Two fucking hands worth of ringless fingers. What was I supposed to do? Throw out another desperate hint? Act giddy because I caught some goddamn flowers? Have another conversation about how he thought marriage was overrated?

How did we get here?

MONTHS AGO…

“MARGO’S my best friend from childhood. Of course we’re going,” I’d told Chris the morning the invitation to her wedding in Africa arrived.

“Seems an awful long way to go. Didn’t she just meet the guy? Bit overweight, isn’t he? Won’t this be her third husband?”

“She’s in love.” My voice went high.

“We’ve been together longer than two of her marriages combined,” Chris grumbled as he tied his tie. A financial advisor, Chris tied the best double Windsor around. “Haven’t we?”

“Sort of,” I said under my breath, putting my hair up in a tight bun. A teacher, I had a job to go to, too.

Chris and I took some breaks in college and some after college. Our most recent one was last year. Easy to do since we’d never moved in together. By breaks, I meant he’d get cold feet and say we should see other people. We always ended up back in the same place, together for now. You couldn’t do that in a marriage. Well, you could, but it wouldn’t be my ideal marriage. As it was, when we were “on” again, we only slept over at each other’s apartments on the weekends, rarely on a Sunday. Therefore, this Monday morning, Chris was out of place, busy gathering his laptop and briefcase to head out my door.

As he went on, he hadn’t heard my lament, “Fifty percent of all marriages end in divorce, Jayne.”

I shook my head when he left without so much as a kiss goodbye.

In my mind, I planned to fly from Maryland to one of the largest destination wedding venues in South Africa, with or without him.

Mountains, bush plains, and tropical forests are all part of the landscape. Designed with lovers in mind.

Margo’s wedding sounded like the vacation I’d been longing for.

Two to three nights in a romantic safari lodge.

My oldest friend sure knew how to get people to her wedding.

Not another word passed between Chris and I about the trip. Therefore, when the first of July arrived, I couldn’t believe he agreed to come.

After a grueling eighteen-hour flight with one layover in Germany and a few bumpy rides, Chris and I relaxed in a lavish suite somehow topped like a straw hut.

The next day was to be the wedding. Then we’d spend the rest of our time in the magical countryside having the whole African safari experience, Margo informed me when she dropped off my red heels and a pamphlet.

With the panoramic river views from the pamphlet, our quarters had a handcrafted marble bath, indoor and outdoor showers, air-conditioning, and a minibar. The bed chamber opened to a private deck leading to the river. We ended our first night sipping tiny bottles of rum under an African sunset, beautiful enough to rival any in my lifetime.

Why hadn’t I ever come to Africa before?

“One of Africa’s largest game reserves with a high density of wild animals including the Big 5: lions, leopards, rhinos, elephants and buffalos, and hundreds of other mammals and diverse bird species. Morning and evening game drives are offered in open 4x4s, which are ideal for spotting a variety of general game,” our pamphlet read.

Oh.

“I don’t mind viewing game,” I told Chris. “If anyone starts shooting the animals, I will lose my shit.”

As we laid in bed, both too tired for romance, I heard a gunshot in the distance.

My fantasy vacation plans vanished.

Chris made fun of my ignorance. “What did you think, Jayne? Hunting is the point of these places.” However, he promised we’d find another resort after the wedding.

CHAPTER TWO

IN THE MORNING, I held it together for Margo. We had plans to leave camp soon after she rode off into the sunset. Chris and I would enjoy our time in Africa away from places like these.

As Margo and I prepped in her suite, she told me she had a choice of getting hitched in the bush at a scenic spot, on the banks of the river, or in the Baroque-style lodge chapel right outside her window. She chose to tie the knot under a beautiful tree with lots of shade.

Thank God. The short walk to meet her this morning had been enough heat for me.

In this heat, we’d already ruled out wearing makeup. We twisted our hair into natural-looking updos. Margo added sprigs of beads as if she were a florist, red in my light hair and white in her red hair.

“I’m having major déjà vu,” she said as she sprayed my thin hair, escaping the bun and trailing around my face.

“We wore our hair up for number one,” I reminded her.

“Hush. That was ten years ago.”

This would be the third time I was Margo’s maid of honor and never a bride. A couple of marriages under my friend’s belt wouldn’t stop her from wearing white.

“This is why my mother isn’t invited,” she joked as our dresses arrived.

Having wrinkled on the flight, they’d been freshly steamed by the staff.

“Can you believe she suggested I go to the courthouse this time?”

I nodded.

“Jayne, nothing’s worth doing unless you go all out. Why should the fact that I’ve been married before keep me from finding happiness now? Or celebrating as if it was the first time?”

“Nothing,” I said. “I love that you follow your heart.”

Margo’s fire engine red hair appeared beside me in the floor-length mirror. She cringed. “I hope you still feel that way when you see your dress.” Pressing her dress against my torso, she leered. It wasn’t her dress. Apparently, I’d be wearing white too. Our dresses were identical. Thin, white, and simply elegant but also like I’d imagine for Africa like we were Romancing the Stone or something.

“What the hell, Margo?”

“I figured it might be the only time you get to wear one.” She laughed heartily at my situation, throwing her head back and everything.

“Well, since you have a collection now….” I slammed with a smile.

The other bridesmaids came into her suite before she could react. They were all wearing the same white dress. Margo informed me that the men would be wearing white as well. My alone time with her over, I backed off to let her newer friends fawn over her and tell her how they absolutely loved their lodgings and planned to shoot a million pictures tomorrow on safari. Feeling relieved no one mentioned their dates or husbands killing anything, I thought I might stay, after all, to get more time with my old friend.

It wasn’t hard to back away and finish dressing on my own. With a laugh that could travel a mile, Margo had always been the center of attention. I, on the other hand, was plain. A plain Jayne like my name suggested. I’d even changed how I spelled my name, J.a.y.n.e., instead of the J.a.n.e. on my birth certificate.

It hadn’t helped.

I was still the little girl who didn’t stand out in the crowd. A woman who could disappear in a group of four. Dishwater blonde with average brown eyes, an ordinary nose, skin, teeth, and body. I was just plain unremarkable. My new bangs hadn’t helped, either. While the other women made their identical white dresses look distinct, I made mine plain.

Margo twirled, her dress flowing around her as her laughter filled the room. “How do I look?”

“You look remarkable, sweetie.” I hugged her before we all squeezed into our hooker heels. “But why these shoes?”

“George has a fetish of sorts,” she declared as we headed out the door.

I instantly regretted asking.

The whole party, minus the groom, gathered in front of the bridal hut. There were six couples counting Chris and me. The only singles were George’s best man, a recent divorcee, Rob Dashell, and the groom’s single cousin, Tara Lipman. None of Margo’s family attended.

At Rob’s direction, we all took a caravan of Jeeps across the plains to one of those African trees. The ones that looked like they started all life. With some help from Chris, I made it out of the Jeep. Agreeing to wear the stilettos had been a mistake. Dodging rocks and clumps of grass, we bridesmaids seemed quite drunk as we wobbled our way to a simple arch of flowers.

There waited the groom, George Peterson, a heavy-set, middle-aged man who’d made his quick fortune developing a social media platform. Beside him, the priest and five African women dressed in traditional red gowns received us with easy smiles as if it weren’t a million degrees outside. Unlike every other wedding I’d attended, there were no seats. The guests stood. Naturally, I stood beside Margo, holding her bouquet of hand-tied wildflowers, my absolute favorite. Though these were no wildflowers, I’d ever seen before.

A serenade from the African choir started the ceremony. The women draped in red gave me tingles. The bride and groom read their own vows, making my stomach twist with nerves for them both. I watched their faces light up for one another as they recited heartfelt words of undying devotion and knew my friend was in love yet again. That was a comforting thought as sweat ran down my back. With the beautiful backdrop of the bush and giraffes walking in the distance, the heat didn’t matter. I was in love with the moment. The couple kissed, sealing the marriage. I shed an overwhelmed tear.

Wiping my cheek, I stole a glance at Chris, who beamed my way. I smiled back, soberly, wanting to feel the same way I used to about him. I wanted to look at him all gooey-eyed like Margo looked at lumpy George. Like I had in the beginning, before all our “breaks.”

I couldn’t muster the sentiment.

For the reception, we congregated under the dimming African skies around a roaring fire, large enough that a tribe should’ve been dancing around it. Finally, we had folding chairs. I kicked off my heels. The women who sang earlier presented a lush dinner, course by course, ending with a whole roasted wild pig with an apple in its mouth. Staring at its stitched eye, I could hardly eat my vegan option. Not to mention, the lingering heat had zapped my appetite.

Instead, I chose alcohol since there was plenty of it. Margo and George swayed by the fire light for ages. They were in love enough to jump in with two feet. Chris and I had been together for ten years, and I couldn’t even get him to dance with me. Barefoot, I boogied to the drums alone while my boyfriend chatted it up with the groom’s cousin, Tara, about her portfolio.

Yeah, right. Portfolio, my ass. I wasn’t dumb or blind. More likely, it was her ass rather than her assets he was after.

I downed my fourth drink.

I lined up as usual when Margo announced she’d throw the bouquet. This was not my first rodeo. I’d never caught one before but knew how I’d react if I did. I’d seen grown women go berserk when they caught the flowers, as if marriage was the whole goal of their existence. Sometimes I felt like one of those women because I expected to get married to Chris someday. I hated the feeling.

Consequently, I made a point not to act the least bit excited. Even when the spray landed perfectly in my hands. Then I waved the bunch in the air, telling the wedding couple goodbye as they left on a freaking elephant’s back. They were heading back to their honeymoon suite. We’d see them again tomorrow if we stayed. I watched them fade into the sunset for far too long before walking back to Chris.

For the first time this evening, he sat all alone. Part of me wanted to snidely ask him if he’d had a good night talking to Tara but thought better of it. After all, he’d be going to bed with me, and I’d caught this bunch of flowers. Maybe it meant something. I sat beside him, holding the bouquet awkwardly on my lap, not knowing if I wanted to lay them down and risk flattening them or try to save them. Silently, we both watched the fire. Waiting for the Jeeps to take them back, the party still lingered around it.

Chris scooted closer as I squeezed my feet back into my heels.

“Marry me, Jayne,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

With a jerk, I turned to him, the shock on my face evident.

Chris still stared at the fire, the light dancing in his dark eyes. He sipped his drink. But he wasn’t drunk, I decided. Never turning to face me, he went on, his voice flat, “This weekend. Here.”

I didn’t know what to say. Truly speechless, I bit my bottom lip, trying to imagine how I’d explain an elopement to my mother. Never mind the fact that Chris had never, ever talked about marrying me before—ever.

Never.

Ever.

Ever.

I could add about a million evers to it, and that wouldn’t be enough. I sucked in a breath, waiting. Was I about to be elated? No. Through my shock, I searched for some sort of euphoria. All I found was anger bubbling up. Returning my gaze to the fire, I opened my mouth and shut it. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Chris turn to face me.

He spoke as point-blank as before. “You’ll never settle down, Jayne.”

I opened my mouth to argue.

But things got worse as he shot out, “It’s best to end this now.”

CHAPTER THREE

I died and was dead for at least a minute before I resurrected.

“Me?” I threw the flowers down.

He pointed at them. “You caught that bouquet like a robot, showing no emotion whatsoever. You never act like you want to marry me anymore.”

Laughing aloud, I sounded insane. I felt insane. People were watching us. It didn’t stop me from raising my voice. “Anymore? How long am I supposed to wait?”

With no response, Chris stood and walked off.

Crossing my arms, I gave Tara a dirty look for good measure and waited until everyone stopped staring at me before getting up. I watched Chris walk further away from the camp, heading the wrong way. I puffed a breath that made my bangs rise as I watched him pause. Maybe he realized he was heading toward the trees. At that point, I thought he’d come back, but he didn’t. He kept walking.

“What the hell is he doing?” I said under my breath.

The sun would set within minutes. Our ride was coming. Under my fury, I worried for him. There were dangerous animals about. I grew furious that his stunt took away from my outrage. Even though I’d just put on my heels, I started after him. Powerwalking, I called out his full name. He stopped and turned around, his white linen shirt wafting, his khakis rolled up, his dark hair a mess from the heat.

Taking a millisecond to gather my thoughts, I summed up everything I wanted to say. “I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man in Africa.”

Throwing his hands up, he gave me an exasperated look.

He’d given up.

Running, I chased him, tracking his white shirt through the beginnings of a freaking jungle. Chris was my prey. Through unshed tears, I had tunnel vision. Following him over felled trees and rocks, I didn’t want him to be in danger. My eye on the prize, I also ran over everything I wanted to say to Chris. Ten years of grievances balled up inside me, ready to be expelled. I became even more cross, thinking he probably needed another break to explore George’s cousin Tara’s portfolio.

My heart sank as I thought of every one of our breaks when I’d thrown myself into my hobbies, bettering myself. I’d been ignoring the truth. Chris was likely in and out of other women’s beds. Why else do couples need breaks? Not to stay faithful like I’d been. The awful fact kept me from crying. I clung to it even as my ankle twisted beneath me.

I kicked off my heels and scooped them up. Hobbling now, I noticed how dark it’d become and rushed as quickly as I could to limp over to the only light. Moonlight cut through the dense vegetation, spotlighting a clearing. I dropped the shoes. My hands shot to my hips as I took in my surroundings.

Well. Fuck.

This was a fucking jungle, all right. Trees, huge leaves, vines, darkness, and plenty of it. It grew scarier by the moment. Where the hell was Chris? And how would I find my way back? All these questions took a back seat to what I saw next, big reflective eyes. Two things happened at once. My muscles became too weak to move, and fear froze me anyway.

I was face to face with a tiger.

“Don’t run,” I chanted in my head.

I’d learned never to run in the presence of a big cat in the mountains in America. Confronted with a motherfucking tiger in the motherfucking jungle in Africa was a scenario I never prepared for. My eyes adjusted enough to see the tiger crouch down, reminding me of my cat, Doodle, when he was about to pounce. This time, instead of a catnip-stuffed mouse, I was the target. And I was stuffed with insides I wanted to keep inside.

I threw up in my mouth.

Then I screamed. As soon as the screech left my throat, I was tackled but not by the tiger. Like out of a dream, an immense, dark figure swung down from the trees and collided with my body, swooping me up in his arms and throwing me over his shoulder. My rescuer ran away from the danger with animalistic agility, all with me dangling down his back. Blood rushed to my head as we zipped through the dark jungle.

CHAPTER FOUR

Light interrupted my slumber, but the grunt woke me. Confusion lingered as my mind replayed a dream. My whole body felt the effects of sleeping on the hard ground. A stark-naked man stood over me, and I remembered last night like a nightmare, the fear still present. Averting my eyes from his nudity, I tried to move in a lurch. I couldn’t. My wrists were painfully tied together and tethered to a tree. The fact shocked me as much as the tiger had. Still in the white dress, I shuffled around in a fit of fright.

Not able to sit up, my gaze fell to the man again, the figure who swung out of the trees and rescued me, Tarzan style. He didn’t look frightening, per se, but savage all the same. His skin was as light as mine, although golden tanned and dirty as if he’d taken a mud bath and wiped himself halfway. And there was so much of him. I wasn’t just talking about the prominent, ginormous flaccid penis hanging like a hose before me, either. Yes, he wore a boa around his waist. Muscular, tall, and broad, the man seemed supersized. Long, dark blonde hair hung in crude dreadlocks way past his shoulders, though his face was clean-shaven. Before I had a moment to think about the odd combination, he spoke.

Sort of.

“Come,” he grunted, pointing to my tied hands.

“Come where? I’m tied up,” I whined.

Without saying anything else, he untethered me from the tree but held the rope attached to my wrists.

“Come,” he grunted again like it was the one word he knew.

I stared at the man’s face, realizing how handsome it was. His brilliant blue eyes held an intelligence as they bore into me. A slightly crooked nose seemed almost regal pasted onto his chiseled mug. Plump lips opened again and said a little bit clearer now, “Come.” He reached around my body to help me to my feet.

He heaved on the rope. My legs were weak, but I had no time to find my balance before the man dragged me along behind him. The back of him proved equally appealing. A carved, broad back led to a slim waist and gorgeous rock-hard butt. Below it were legs of steel with massive calf muscles I always found sexy. As much as I enjoyed the view, pain shot through my ankle. And nature was calling. I’d had my share of alcohol last night and felt it in more ways than one.

“Hey, you! I’ve got to go to the bathroom, if you know what that means.”

He stopped but said nothing as he let out a little slack and pointed to the right.

“Great.” I’d never peed behind a bush before, let alone in a jungle. I took the slack as far as it would go into the thick vegetation and limped behind a tree.

He followed me.

“Are you going to watch me pee?”

He didn’t move or turn around.

“Sicko.”

Strategically lifting my dress to allow me to urinate but still be covered from wild eyes, I let my panties pull around my ankles. I squatted and took the longest pee right on the ground. Refusing to use a leaf, I wiggled enough to shake dry.

Disgusting.

The barbarian tied the rope to his waist this time. We were on our way again to where I had no clue. In the daylight, I saw no signs that we were near the safari camp. I seriously doubted he’d be taking me back anyway. Sure, he saved me from certain death but to what end?

“They’ll be looking for me, ya know,” I told my rescuer turned captor.

He whipped his head around for a moment but made no response. As we walked, him in front pulling me along like a mule, I wondered if it were even possible for someone could live alone in the jungle. This man wasn’t a native of an African tribe. If anything, he resembled a Viking. Meaning he looked European—a white guy on a much larger scale. I wasn’t foolish enough to believe anyone could be raised by gorillas and survive. More likely, he’d been a naturalist to go nuts. Some people enjoyed traveling to the wilderness and pressing their luck. Survivalists, they’re called. Possibly he’d gotten lost at some point and returned to being savage.

We walked the entire day, only stopping to drink water droplets from wet leaves. It wasn’t nearly enough. My head pounded from my hangover, and I felt more dehydrated than ever. Sweat covered me, sticking the thin dress to my body like glue. Every other step, my ankle throbbed. Sharp pricks met my feet. I’d always had sensitive feet and couldn’t even walk on smooth pebbles. At first, I was too shocked by my situation to care. Eventually, I started howling from the pain. The big guy picked me up and tossed me over his shoulder like last night.

Face to butt with him, I sputtered, “I can’t travel like this. My blood is rushing to my head that already hurts like a motherfucker.”

Without a word, he put me down and continued tugging me along. I kept my mouth shut about my feet.

We arrived at a clearing in front of an opening to a cave. Half covered with a tapestry of leaves, there’d been an obvious attempt to make a door. Rocks made a fire ring beside a makeshift rack where he stored fruits, nuts, and dried meat. We’d gotten to his home, which I was positive was a bad thing.

Right away, he started eating like a wild animal. Kind of like I’d shove popcorn in my mouth sometimes. Pressing some dried meat to my lips, he tried to feed me, too.

“I’m not eating that,” I said but licked the salt from my lips.

He backed off and continued to eat.

My stomach rumbled, but I was too worried to eat. I could only assume Chris made it back to our hut. That’s if that tiger hadn’t killed him.

“I need to get back to my party. You know there’s a camp close by. You don’t have to live like this,” I tried.

He smirked, his eyes narrowing as he listened. I couldn’t tell if he understood me or not.

“I’m very grateful you saved me from that tiger last night, but I must get back to my life.” I was still going off the thought that he’d gotten lost at some point. “I don’t see why I can’t help you find your way back to civilization.”

He shook his head no.

Tugging at the rope around my wrists, I found fighting useless. I sat down in protest. “Why do you want to keep me here anyway? I’m just another mouth to feed. Unless you plan to eat me, I don’t see how I can be useful to you.”

Reacting to my words, he pulled on the rope and dragged me over until I laid on the ground, much like I’d woken up. Suddenly, he was on me. Sitting on my lap so that I couldn’t kick my legs. He untied the rope from his waist and tied me back up, my arms over my head, attaching me to a large stump. Once I was secure, his rough dirty hands seized the top of my dress and ripped it open like it were merely paper. His head descended. His nose traveled down my bra, my body. He sniffed my vag.

“Excuse you.”

The savage returned to his knees, his nostrils flaring as he stroked his erection that had come out of nowhere.

Staring at the gargantuan cock, I knew exactly what was on his mind. What I was useful for. What he planned to do with me.

CHAPTER FIVE

“A NAKED MAN, lost in the jungle, rescues a woman. Obviously, he’d want to fuck her. Simple caveman mentality,” I spat aloud. “It’s a good thing you’re gorgeous, and I’m mad as hell at Chris for putting me in this situation.”

Oh. Jayne. You’re pitiful.

This was precisely how I’d gotten through my breaks with Chris, looking on the bright side. Denial. Bargaining. I was now deciding this man was savage and didn’t know better. To him, I was his for the taking. He’d captured or rescued me and would have his way with me. Simple.

No matter how I justified it, the savage’s cock was supersized much longer and thicker than Chris’s. There was no way he wasn’t going to hurt me.

“I know what you want to do but don’t think that is going to fit,” I told him flatly as he stroked it.

This man didn’t care what I was saying as he tore off my bra with his free hand, snapping the straps. Apparently, he hadn’t understood. Powerless under his grip, I dreaded what might happen. His eyes burning into me and mouth falling open said he planned to fuck me all right.

Fuck that.

“Get off me, you big brute,” I hissed.

He quit stroking himself.

I was prepared to fight him, but his stunned stare questioned me like he’d never been refused before.

“What? Are you surprised that being tied up and taken against my will isn’t my idea of a good time? I mean, if we were dating and role-playing, that’d be a different story.” I was babbling. It wouldn’t do. I found my strong voice. “Listen. You brute. You need to untie me. Now.”

Like a switch flipped, he wasted no time freeing my hands. The man clearly understood me.

I rubbed my wrists. “That’s better.”

I went to cover my breasts. But he captured my free wrists. I thought I was in for a fight, but the savage shocked me by helping me to my feet. Too bad, I couldn’t stand at all. Yes, my feet still ached from running in heels, but swollen and purple, my ankle was undoubtedly injured.

Noticing, he helped me inside the cave and lit a fire like a boy scout—no lighter in sight. I twisted my dress around to cover my naked chest.

He disappeared.

Alone in the cave, I thought about what had just happened. The savage stopped when I told him to. Obviously, there was a civilized man behind this beast. When he returned, he brought a pot of water and cleaned my sore feet. Then he produced a plant and applied a little goo to my bruised ankle, which he wrapped in large leaves.

Without a word, he laid down and fell asleep beside me. I poked him. He snored. I could’ve run. Not far on a hurt ankle, but I could’ve escaped. Exhausted from the heat, I used his naked body as a pillow and closed my eyes.

The next few days, it became apparent that I was Brute’s… something. It was as if he was courting me.

Brute was my name for the savage.

“Me. Jayne. You. Brute,” I’d joke because he’d never said another word to me.

While he left for the day, I stayed in the cool cave. I felt safer than out in the open in an African jungle. Every time I stepped out, I saw a reason to stay inside, like a giant fluorescent bug or weird, scary reptile. So, the savage escorted me outside to relieve myself. When a poisonous-looking snake slithered right over my polished red toenails, Brute caught it with his bare hands, conked its head with a rock, skinned it, and roasted it over the fire. Snake tasted divine, like a skinny chicken from what I could remember from the days before I was vegan.

I could scarcely believe I was eating meat, but what choice did I have?

Brute was a steady guy. Every day he’d hunt, come back, and cook over the fire, feed me some roasted monkey or something. He knew how to bring home the bacon and then some. He’d always bring a pot of water for us to drink and sometimes to bathe in. He even brought me exotic flowers and small gifts like rocks and bones.

I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face once darkness fell and the fire went out. Every night he’d ignore his massive erection and let me cuddle next to him for warmth, for safety.

With the alternative being a tiger eating me or fighting with Chris, who never wanted to commit, I was okay. I was alive. And Brute was committed.

CHAPTER SIX

THE DAYS BEGAN to run together, but Brute changed it up. Hauling me out of the cave one morning, he carried me to a small stream to bathe.

Getting on my knees, I splashed my face in the running water. “Turn around,” I told him as I hiked up my dress to wash my privates.

Brute’s back appeared. The big guy had grown quite respectful since the first night. I was beginning to think he understood I didn’t plan to sleep with him.

Oh, how I was wrong.

When dressing, my bum ankle caused me to tumble. Brute materialized, catching me in his strong arms and laying me down beneath him in the grass. Hugging his thick neck, I thanked him. He drew back, revealing a broad smile on his dirty face. His eyebrow arched. For a second, I saw something more than a savage.

Damn, he was unbearably handsome. And thoughtful to boot. I admit, I swooned.

Leaning down, he did the unimaginable. His lips grazed mine. I responded, opening my mouth. Brute kissed me, full on the mouth, his tongue sweeping against mine. Dipping deep, his kiss made my heart race. He ended the kiss quickly, like he’d been trying it out, and decided he didn’t like it. Nevertheless, his brief kiss added fuel to my fire below.

I couldn’t help myself. I felt for his ever-present erection. My fingers rubbed the fleshy head of his cock. He went for my panties. His eager gaze dared me to grumble as he tore them away. He twisted my legs apart with his massive claws. His dreadlock-covered head plunged. Snarling, his mouth went to my pussy like it was a big hunk of meat. Brute was starved. Almost violently, he frenched the mouth of my sex as no man had ever before, drinking from me as if I were a coconut.

I had no complaints.

For a savage, he sure could eat pussy. His tongue swept up to my clit, giving it a tickle to rival anything in my nightstand at home. Then it ran down my slit and further back, wiggling into my puckered hole.

“Oh, my,” I pipped, suddenly feeling hotter than ever.

Rough hands heaved my ass cheeks apart, and he tongued my asshole, practically making me come. My other parts got jealous as tendrils of goodness ran up my belly and spine. My breasts longed for him to touch them. I could feel my face flush with need. Then Brute surprised me even more. While his tongue worked my clit again, he stuck his whole index finger in my butt.

What the hell? Ah. Oh.

I’d never had any play back there before. Brute pumped his finger once, and my pussy clenched, feeling empty. I came instantly, blathering as I did.

Brute didn’t care that I felt like a puddle of goo or that I needed time to recover. His sticky body covered the length of mine, and his giant dick pressed hard against my swollen pussy lips. My eyes fluttered as he scraped his girth back and forth along my sex to get to the right spot. His gorgeous but grimy face loomed over me. His expression became primal, famished for me.

Not knowing if I was ready to go all the way, I clawed him with my manicured red nails. He grunted, clearly enjoying the resistance, but my cries stopped him. As he removed himself, his wild eyes questioned me. He laid down beside me, breathing hard.

“Come,” he grumbled, his blue eyes piercing mine.

“Come? As in cum?” I laughed.

“Come?” He spoke again but as a question, like did I want to come? Or perhaps he was asking if I came.

“Look, I really enjoyed what you did there,” I purred. “You made me come, all right. Thanks.”

“Come,” he sang again, leading my hand back to his erection.

Squeezing his massive cock, my pussy recovered and grew jealous of my hand.

“Come?” He hummed again.

Caught up in the moment, I weighed my response. I’d been faithful to Chris during our breaks. In ten years, I hadn’t let another man touch me until what Brute had done moments ago.

I wanted more. No. I needed more.

“Yes,” I whispered. He could come all over me for all I cared.

Brute mounted me, instantly thrusting his big dick inside me, taking my breath with it. I dug my nails into his broad back as the rush surprised me. The pain from him stretching me, mixed with unromanced pleasure, dampened my eyes. I ran my nails down his back, scratching. He heaved in further, proving it possible. My stomach felt sick but in a good way. Somehow, he’d touched a hidden place, somewhere no one had before. I’d never felt so complete, so vulnerable, so taken.

The savage didn’t wait for me to adjust to his hefty cock. Driving my knees up, he spread my pelvis wider and went full force, dragging it out of my tight sleeve and plummeting it back into me. The sensation was maddening and satisfying. As the sweltering sun beat down, our labored breathing and the swimming noises of our sexual liquid were all that could be heard.

On my end, nothing had ever felt so perverse and grand simultaneously. Grunting in my ear, Brute practically buried me in the ground beneath us. When I came again, I cried, not because I’d felt desecrated and used. Rather, the act had been so nourishing. I’d thoroughly adored it, like a fine wine or a delicious meal.

Besides, it was the perfect fuck you to Chris for walking out of my life.

Brute roared when he came, sounding like Tarzan himself.

Damn, it was perfect.

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE FOLLOWING week passed much the same, except I’d given up on wearing my dirty white dress. I opted to play Eve to Brute’s Adam. Then, understandably, it was easier for us to fuck after Brute brought home dinner. And boy did we, like rabbits, every way I could imagine and some I couldn’t. Afterward, I’d talk until we both fell asleep.

Brute wasn’t much different than what I’d been looking for in a husband, in Chris. Someone to listen. Someone to care about me. Fuck me hard. Brute even did all the cooking and cleaning. I slept my days away, longing for the night when Brute would come home to ravish me. The only thing missing was my work life. Since it was summer break, I was technically still getting paid.

Tonight after we filled our bellies, Brute didn’t wait for us to clean up. He flipped me over and carted me to my knees, my ass in the air. He pressed my head down to the rough dirt and played with my vagina from behind while rubbing the head of his thick dick across my anus over and over.

God bless America.

He was going to fuck my ass. There wasn’t a CVS for thousands and thousands of miles. It’d be a lubeless adventure. Was I up for this?

Spreading my ass cheeks apart, he bent behind me and licked my brown rose like an animal before wiggling his tongue to probe inside, convincing me. I couldn’t help but react, in a good way, squeaking while my face scraped the ground. When I did, he came up on his knees, behind me again, jutting his fat dick between my cheeks.

Brute used his greasy hands from the animal we just ate to lube up his rod. Reaching around me, he clutched my breasts in his oily hands. I sighed in pleasure as he squeezed them. The savage used them for grip as he stabbed the head of his dick into my wrinkly pit.

“Oh,” I bellowed since I’d never done anal before. Not that Chris hadn’t begged.

Brute growled before powerfully punching forward.

O.M.G.

Before I knew it, his huge dick was all the way in my ass.

Then he moved.

Fuck.

The more it hurt, the better it felt. And the more he moved, the more my pleasure grew. My pussy wept, wanting some action. Brute ran his hand down to work my clit. I came way before he did.

Groaning, Brute came quicker than usual.

I rested my head on his massive chest, which felt like a giant, slippery rock. He wrapped me in his steel arms.

“You know, that was my first time. I was a butt virgin.”

Anal was my only sexual act gone undone. The only one I’d saved for my future husband. At least that was the excuse I’d given Chris. I’d always rambled on after we fucked, to keep my mind off the fact I was lost. I went on about how I thought I’d be marrying Chris someday until even the savage seemed annoyed.

He shifted about until I was no longer lying on him.

I shut up about Chris.

After about a minute, Brute carted me over to cuddle against him again. Listening to his heartbeat in the silent, pitch-black cave, I didn’t think anyone could’ve scored a more agreeable, sexier savage than I had in Brute.

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE NEXT MORNING after Brute left, I realized I didn’t miss my cup of joe. Then I got bored. The last couple of weeks, I’d slept off jet lag, my hangover, my lack of coffee, and an exhausting new sex routine. Today I felt wide awake. I needed to think of a way to leave Brute and return to my real life.

With the way our fight had gone and me missing for nearly two weeks, Chris had to be distraught by now. Right? Indeed, my mother would be beside herself. Poor Margo, she’d blame herself for my disappearance.

Assessing my ankle and finding it much improved, I planned my departure for the following morning.

When night fell, Brute burst into the cave with his usual offerings but blood bathed his naked form. Scratches covered his body.

I rushed to him. “What happened? Are you okay?”

Of course, he didn’t answer. Coming at me, he was high on adrenaline from his hunt and wanted to fuck me right away. As he approached, my pussy dripped in anticipation.

In a week, I’d become addicted to his enormous cock and company. He pressed down on my shoulder. I got to my knees quickly, the rough ground barely bothering me anymore. Brute stood before me, injured but pointing his stiff dick toward my mouth. I parted my lips as he gripped the back of my head. Without finesse, he rammed it inside my mouth, skidding it to the back of my throat. Brute’s dick went deeper, gagging me for a moment. He yanked it back, relieving me.

I ran my hands up to clutch his hard ass. With a mouth full, I sucked and licked, wanting to please him as he petted my hair. Hot cum shot into my mouth, and I drank it like a bitch.

He zipped me around to his knees and entered my soaking pussy from behind like an animal. Heaving my hair back and biting at my shoulder, he milled into me as I drove my body back to meet him. He roared like a caveman as he filled me with more of his seed.

I started bleeding the following day and thanked God for my IUD.

Brute didn’t care. He rolled over on top of me when he first woke and fucked me missionary style. Already covered in blood, his lips curved into a satisfied smile when he heaved out and saw his bloody cock. When he led me out to relieve myself, he noticed I could walk.

Brute took us on a longer trip down to a spring where we could bathe. With an eager grin, he dove in beside me and popped up like a rocket. Caressing his slick muscles, I helped him clean his bloody body. Then he washed me, rubbing his colossal hands all over me, over my breasts, and down the curve of my hips, rousing me again. The head of his dick bobbed on the water’s surface, saying hello. Lifting me easily in the water, he guided my arms around his neck, my legs circling his tone waist. My breasts smashed against his solid chest. Brute leaned in. His plump lips massaged my neck until they reached my mouth. My hands went in his wet locks. We kissed for ages. We had all the time in the world. Nowhere to go. Nothing to do but each other. My heart fluttered in my chest.

Fuck. I ended our kiss.

It would do me no good to fall in love with the savage. Sure, we had mind-blowing sex, lots of it, but I had a plan to get back to my life.

However, Brute’s expression was unmistakable. His heart fluttered, too.

“I’ve never had sex in the water before,” I changed the unspoken subject.

He drove my body down, impaling me onto his rigid shaft. I moved up and down with his help, his hands gripping my hips to move me. He moaned as we built friction. My ass clapped the water. My breasts slid against his firm pecs. But all the while, his loving expression never changed.

I tried again. “I’ve never even been skinny dipping with a boy before.”

“Me either,” he murmured, surprising the ever-loving fuck out of me.

I swam away from him so quickly that I don’t even know how we became detached.

“Jayne, don’t be upset,” he said in a rush.

CHAPTER NINE

WITH THOSE FEW WORDS, Brute was a different man. Beyond confused, angry, and hurt, I felt like I was drowning even though my head bobbed above the water.

“What the fucking hell?”

Brute swam to me.

Part of me wanted to swim away, but I stayed put.

His wet face twisted with conflict before he murmured, his lips barely moving, “I’ve been alone a long time. I thought you were a figment of my imagination. For a while.”

I exploded, “For a while! How long?”

“Once I realized you were really with me, every day. Not just some mirage,” he emphasized that word. “A fantasy,” he added. “It seemed too late to explain.”

“Are you going to let me leave now that we aren’t playing anymore?”

Brute nostrils flared. “I never said you couldn’t leave.”

“You haven’t said anything.”

“You consented to everything.”

At his words, I cried so hard that I hiccupped.

“Of course, you can go. God.” He seemed to chide himself. His arms circled me. “Jayne, don’t cry. I’ll take care of you until we’re rescued.”

Raising my head to look into his light eyes, I beat my fists on his vast chest. “Rescued?”

“Yes. And until then we can still enjoy each other. Right?” He smirked.

Escaping from his large arms, I couldn’t answer that. As much as I was mad at him, his voice and words made me find him more realistically attractive. However, anger gurgled again. “Is that why you pretended to be dumb? So you could play caveman? Fuck me?”

Brute smiled sideways. “You didn’t complain.”

“Didn’t you listen to me before? There’s a safari camp near here. I could’ve taken us there weeks ago.”

He shook his head like he didn’t believe me. His dreads danced as he spoke. “Jayne, I’ve been lost for… I don’t even know how long… I’ve been all over this jungle and can’t find where it ends.”

“How did you get lost?”

His brow pinched as he rubbed his head. “Plane crash,” he exhaled. “Five or six of us survived, but I got separated from the others. I’ve seen no sign of them since. Not even the plane. Once we ran out of supplies, peanuts, and soda, I went off alone searching for food.” He stroked his temple again. “I don’t remember. I’ve been alone too long with my own thoughts. I’m not sure what’s real or speculation on my part.”

“Maybe you ate them.”

“What?”

“Maybe you ate the others to survive.” I began imagining the worst.

“That’s sick.”

“I’ve told you. I was at a wedding party nearby. I could’ve been home by now if you hadn’t been pretending.”

“I wasn’t pretending. And is this about Chris? You want to get back to your Chris.”

“No. I see you listened about my boyfriend but ignored that I could lead us back to civilization.”

“How could I not listen, Jayne? He’s all you ever talk about.”

“You picked up my name but haven’t shared yours.”

Brute scrubbed his forehead yet again. “It sure as hell isn’t Brute, but I don’t….” The man became frustrated. He couldn’t remember his name.

While he struggled, I got out of the water. For a moment, I felt awful. The guy fell from the sky and probably had a head injury. I was being the asshole. That’s until he spoke.

“Brute…” He laughed. “I wasn’t the only one enjoying a fantasy.”

I huffed. “Fantasy?”

“Yeah, Brute kept your pussy wet.”

I blew out my nose like a bull. “If you know the spot you rescued me from, I can get us out of here. This can all be over.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes. Fantasy over. I need to get home. Not only to Chris, who will be worried sick. My mom. Margo. For God’s sake, I’m supposed to be back to work soon.”

“Then let’s go. Let’s find this camp you’ve been talking about.”

I insisted on going back to the cave first to dress. Brute didn’t have any clothes anymore.

He explained, “I used them for traps, I think, and for my bed… Hold on.” Under his bed of oversized leaves was a pair of dirty, ripped khakis. The burn marks seemed consistent with a plane crash.

Checking the pockets, he found a wallet. “I don’t think this is me.” He handed it over.

The license read Bram Stevens, who was apparently six foot six and two hundred pounds of muscle, with short blonde hair and blue eyes. Their faces looked identical.

“It’s you, without the long hair.”

Taking it back, he felt his clean-shaven face. “Is that what I look like?” This strange man stared down at Bram in disbelief, and I realized I hadn’t checked out the address or anything else in the wallet.

“Yeah. And how do you shave?”

“My knife. I don’t like the feel of a beard.”

I knew he had a knife. That’s how he gutted the animals. “How did you get a knife on a plane?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I found it like the rope and the pot.”

“Are we ready?” I asked him, wanting to get back to the real world.

Bram tucked his wallet away and stepped into his pants. It took the rest of the day to make it back to the clearing.

“This is the spot.” I picked up one red stiletto and wondered about the other. “What were you doing out here?”

“Hunting.”

“So late at night?”

Bram smirked. “I had nothing else to do at night until I found you.”

The reminder of all the sex we had zipped through me. I ignored the longing in the pit of my stomach. Twirling around, I recalled the direction I’d come from.

“This way,” I told Bram, then took off.

He followed me through the thicket. In my anger, I hadn’t remembered how long I’d followed Chris. Therefore, I was relieved when I spotted the bush with the unmistakable tree at dusk.

“There.”

“It’s a tree.”

“I recognize that tree.”

“Trees all look the same, Jayne. Trust me.”

I crossed my arms. “No, that’s where Margo and George got married.”

“You’re imagining things. It happens. Believe me.”

“You went from not talking to mansplaining in the blink of an eye. Come on.” Tugging Bram forward, I led him to the remains of a fire. “See.”

He bent to feel the ashes that were still warm, but his expression was hard. “I still don’t see any of the lavish quarters you spoke of.”

Blowing out a breath, I started to argue but then thought better. I supposed he was upset I quickly found the way out of the jungle when he couldn’t. I softened. “Of course not. We took Jeeps to get here. It took twenty minutes. The camp’s probably still pretty far off. Honestly, I didn’t pay attention on the ride.”

“We can follow the tracks. In the morning.”

Bram rekindled the fire. We sat beside it, both of us dressed for once.

“You can lay on me,” he offered.

“Nah.”

“You went from spreading your legs for Brute to a cold fish in the blink of an eye,” Bram mocked my earlier comment.

“You’re awful quick-witted for someone who couldn’t talk this morning.” We sat in silence until I had to know. “When did you realize I was real?”

Bram turned to me. I refused to look at him as he spoke. “I started to when you first fought me. But it took days of you being there.”

“Why didn’t you say something when you realized?”

“I wanted to, but I hadn’t spoken much in a long time.”

Finally, I turned to him. “You seem to talk just fine.”

Bram hung his head in his hands. “I practiced every day when I left the cave. I listened to you ramble on every night and something clicked. Once I got it right, I didn’t know how to tell you. When to tell you.”

“You lied to me.”

He huffed. “You assumed.”

“I had sex with you,” I barked.

“You loved it as much as I did.”

“No. I didn’t,” I lied.

We slept apart for the first time in weeks.

The next morning, we didn’t talk about our fight. Bram found the tire tracks. We spent a few hours following them until we spotted the remote resort.

“Fancy,” Bram remarked. “I wonder if Chris is waiting for you. Are you just going to go back to him?”

I wondered too.

CHAPTER TEN

A GUARD STOPPED Bram and me at the gates. He didn’t recognize me. I must’ve looked a fright after weeks in the jungle. I gave him my name and hut number, then explained we’d been lost.

“Should I notify the authorities?”

Before I could answer him, I spotted Chris in front of the main office. I yelled for him. He rushed our way, holding two coffees.

“Jayne, are you okay?” He looked Bram up and down.

Taking a coffee, I explained that Bram had rescued me.

“Thanks for taking care of my fiancée,” Chris said before he swept me toward our hut.

Looking back, I saw Bram pull out his wallet like he was trying to get a room of his own.

Chris got my attention. “I’m sure you want to shower.”

“Yes, and food.” I’d check on Bram later.

I ate first and then showered but couldn’t find any of my clothes. Chris gave me a robe and said Margo and George had flown home. They took my things with them.

“In case I needed to keep moving,” Chris explained.

“You planned to find me?”

“Of course. I was worried sick.” Chris stroked my upper thigh, a clear sign he wanted to make love.

“Sorry, I’m exhausted. And I’m on my period.”

“Of course. You need to rest.”

“I will. But I want to brush my teeth first. Can I use your toothbrush?”

“Of course. I’ll call the desk and get another.”

In the bathroom, I shook off how strange Chris was acting and loaded his brush with the minty fresh paste. He probably just missed me. I didn’t want to think about whether I missed him or not. Instead, I worried about Bram. Did he get a hut? How would he get home? Did he have a long-lost girlfriend or wife?

Plopping the brush in my mouth, I dropped the cap. Bending to retrieve it, I spotted a red, silky cloth. I picked up panties. They weren’t mine. I spat out the toothbrush and marched into the room to confront Chris.

“I don’t know where they came from,” he promised.

“Unlikely,” I hooted. I started to leave.

“I’ve missed you like crazy, Jayne. Don’t do this.”

When I opened the door, a woman stood behind it. George’s cousin Tara held a key card in her hand. The woman Chris spent the evening talking to at the wedding had a key to my hut.

“Jayne. I thought you went home,” she said, her eyes wide.

Staring back at Chris in disbelief, I realized he hadn’t been looking for me.

“What did you do?”

Chris reddened but spoke up. “I thought you were dead.”

“For fucking real? Where’s my luggage? My phone?”

“In the river,” Chris mumbled. “I thought I’d be suspected.”

Tara bolted, but Chris and I kept screaming at each other. Tears streamed down my cheeks.

“How could you?” I shrieked.

With a crazed look, Chris came out on the deck at me. “You can’t tell me you didn’t climb that tree in the jungle.”

“What are you talking about?”

Chris pointed. Bram watched our fight. He wasn’t alone. The staff gathered as well.

“You can’t tell me you didn’t fuck that big brute who rescued you.”

“Oh, Brute. I did fuck him. Every night.” I got in Chris’s face. “I loved every minute of it.”

That’s when Chris shoved me. I almost fell into the water. But Bram was beside me in an instant, steadying me. He moved me out of the way and reared back his fist, ready to knock Chris out.

But Chris pulled a pistol out of nowhere.

Fuck.

Where had he gotten that? Before he could even threaten Bram, I tackled him. We both splashed into the river.

Bram lugged me out of the water. “Some fiancé you got there.”

I dropped the soaking wet robe. “He’s not my fiancé. Never was.”

He didn’t bat an eye at my nudity. If anyone else had, I didn’t notice. I only had eyes for him.

“Hell, if I would’ve known, I would’ve never let you leave with him.”

“Really? You wouldn’t let me?” I rolled my eyes.

“Yeah, I would’ve done this.” Bram threw me over his shoulder.

Security dived in after Chris.

“Come,” Bram said, walking away from the scene.

As the blood rushed to my head, I smiled.

I knew exactly what he meant.

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HIS DARLING, MADNESS

NATASHA RAULERSON

CHAPTER ONE

WILDER

I SLID the knife through his throat before he knew what happened. The feel of skin severing, of the blade grazing against bone, sent a shot of glee coursing through me. His stark blue eyes widened in surprise during the initial spray. Now, crimson liquid trickled down, pooling into messy ink-blot stains on the white sheets beneath him.

The noise in my head quieted.

I sat on his chest in only red lace panties and a matching bra. The horror on his face as he clutched the wound fascinated me. Every kill had a distinct look. The shock and fear were never the same on any two people. It always went to their core. A visceral reaction. No one believed they would truly die. Not until they were faced with it.

Gregory Shaw stared down that reality now. “Whi-whitney?”

The name came out garbled and raspy, barely above the sound of a whisper. Moments ago, he’d pawed at me like a dog begging for a treat. He didn’t know how to touch a woman—he only sought his own satisfaction. The sight of life slowly draining from him made something tighten in my lower belly, evoking more pleasure than his slobbering, over-eager, and inexperienced kisses ever could.

I leaned in until my lips were barely above his. The smell of stale beer now mixed with the metallic scent of his blood. “That’s not my name.”

Each mark got a rotation of fake aliases that started with ‘W’. I used every single one I could think of except Wilder.

He reached for me. I caught his wrist and twisted as I sat up. My lip turned up in a snarl. “Deserving. For everything you did to him. If hell exists, I imagine you’ll go there. And there will be far worse horrors than you inflicted here.”

Eventually, if there was such a place, it’s where I would end up too. I wondered if it would be quieter, or if the demons would amp up the noise in my head until it was unbearable. It would be an absolute adventure to find out.

“Wilder.”

The familiar British accent made every muscle in my body tense as I looked over my shoulder. A thread of excitement rushed through me.

Shadows concealed Declan Booth, but his image was ingrained in my mind. Dark blond hair, deep brown eyes, and a scar that ran along the rugged line of his jawbone. A scar from a wound I’d inflicted when we’d met months ago—the first time he tried to kill me.

The only thing visible was the barrel of a gun.

Shaw made a strangled sound, and then his body stilled. I looked down at the corpse and frowned. “I missed the best part.”

“A bit dramatic, aren’t we, darling?”

“No.”

Watching the life drain from their eyes, that last speck of hope dying out—knowing I’d taken their choice the same way they had others—it’s what kept me going. What gave me the drive to oppose The Organization.

“You’ll slit another throat soon enough, I’m sure.”

Sighing, I stood on the bed before hopping onto the floor. Specks of Shaw’s blood cooled on my chest, shoulders, and face.

“Will I?” I took several steps in his direction, knife still in hand. “Or are you here to kill me?”

“As yet to be determined.” He pushed off the wall, slowly stalking toward me. The shadows moved and shifted until they were behind him. The entire gun was visible now—and it was aimed directly at my chest.

Declan was every bit as beautiful and dangerous as I remembered—scar and all. The buzz of noise in my head grew louder now that the thrill of Shaw’s death was over. But it was still quieter than usual.

Maybe that’s why I enjoyed our game.

The Organization hired him to kill me—the wild card who abided by no laws or customs. The woman who had once been a top agent—now a liability.

“What did this one do?” He nodded toward the corpse.

I rolled my neck, taking a slow breath. “A boy will sleep better knowing his personal monster is no longer breathing.”

He studied me with those deep brown eyes. What did they see? Did he see past the blood and scars? Beyond the noise in my head? Maybe, like my sister, he saw through it all.

Or he was just exceptionally good when it came to sex and it skewed my perception.

“So, no loss to the world, really,” he said in a mild tone.

“If anything, it gained a little peace.”

“While that may be true, darling, and I’m sure the boy is grateful, The Organization is another matter entirely.” He adjusted his grip on the gun.

“They can go to hell.” A giggle bubbled up despite the harshness of my words. Emotions swirled, twisting inside me like a knotted puzzle I could never figure out.

“Undoubtedly. But it would take quite a feat.”

“If you’re going to kill me, we should get started.”

Gregory Shaw’s blood still dripped from the knife in my hand. I had no desire to add Declan’s to it, but I would. Just as I had the last time he tried to put me down.

“You might end up with a new scar,” I said. “Or maybe I’ll wind up a Jane Doe in the morgue.”

A smirk curled the corner of his lip. “You, darling, are many things—psychotic, possibly being at the top of the list—but you could never be an anonymous or unknown thing in this world.”

“The only one who knows me now is you.”

My heart thudded. Once. Then again. The noise growing louder, echoing in my head like a swarm of bees.

Once I’d been known. But they’d seen the version of me they wanted. Not the person I was. Only my sister had seen beyond the charade of normalcy to the truth within.

“Is that so?” Declan arched a brow.

My hand tightened on the hilt of the knife.

“Now, now. None of that.” He pulled back the hammer on the gun.

“I thought you liked it when I played with knives?” One slow step in front of the other, I sauntered over to him and pressed the tip of the blade into the top button of his black shirt.

He caught my wrist with a tight grip. “As delightful as that sounds, we don’t have time…”

The noise kept his words from making sense. I kissed him, breaking off the rest of his sentence. The feel of his lips against mine brought a quiet to the world I didn’t know existed before Declan.

Considering the man had been sent to kill me on more than one occasion, and each of those occasions we’d wound up chorusing screams of pleasure instead of pain. I’m not sure what that said about us.

The knife fell from my fingers, landing with a soft thud on the carpet. I pressed against him, my nipples hard against his chest as my hands slid over his shoulders and behind his neck. He moaned into my mouth—the sound vibrated into my soul and liquid heat rushed between my thighs.

He gripped my hips, deepening the kiss for a brief moment before he pulled back. A growl of frustration bubbled up his throat. “Wilder, darling, we have bigger problems.”

“They can wait.” I reached down, cupping the bulge beneath the slacks. “I want you to fuck me.”

Those brown eyes darkened as he uncocked the gun, slid the safety on, and tucked it away. He moved his hands under my ass and lifted. I wrapped my legs around his hips as he walked over and slammed my back into the wall. The sensations of his cock grinding against me, and the slight shock of pain from the impact, had a cry escaping my lips.

As much as the thrill of the kill sent me over the edge, Declan’s touch brought a new sort of madness—one that I savored. I clung to each moment he offered, knowing that any second could be the last.

His hands gripped my bra and ripped the fabric. The bands bit into my skin, adding another sensation and compounding the pleasure building inside of me—increasing the anticipation.

My breasts spilled into the open, the cold AC washing over my already hard nipples.

He gripped them, massaging my sensitive flesh. The noise faded entirely, as it always did when he was close. It was as if he could chase away my personal darkness and bring a sense of serenity to my mind. The first time had been a surprise, but Declan seemed to accept me for the messy thing I was.

But only on the nights he was supposed to kill me.

CHAPTER TWO

DECLAN

WHAT THE BLOODY hell was I thinking?

I gripped Wilder’s arms and pulled us both to the ground. A bullet hit the wall where we’d been standing. Small bits of drywall rained down as two more followed.

It had been pure instinct. A tickle at the back of my neck that alerted me danger was looming.

I always listened to those instincts.

Her chestnut brown hair splayed out behind her. Her wide hazel eyes filled with surprise. A smile tipped on her lips and she giggled.

Of course, she did.

If there was one thing that any bloke knew about Wilder Kelley, it’s that the woman was emphatically mad.

I grunted and tapped her nose. “Only you would find this funny.”

“I’ve never been shot at during sex.”

I kissed her with bruising pressure. It was absolutely gobsmacked. Just like her—crazy, infectious—delirious. She enjoyed a bit of pain with her pleasure, as I’d learned our first time together. It never should have happened. Nor any of the following times.

The Organization assigned me to do her in. Yet, I couldn’t seem to stop shagging her instead.

I should. Kill her, that was. Right now. Just press the gun to her temple, and end it while still lost in her. It would be merciful. She’d never know it was coming.

I broke the kiss. “We weren’t having sex.”

Unfortunately.

“And this, darling, is exactly what I was trying to warn you about. The Organization hired someone new. They seem to be a bit miffed that you’ve eluded me several times.”

She grinned with red and thoroughly plumped lips. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“Perhaps we can discuss the semantics later. At this moment, it might be best to move.”

“Aww, you don’t want anyone else to kill me?”

The thought made my innards twist.

“Darling, if anyone is going to kill you, it’s bloody well going to be me.”

Only I wasn’t sure I could. And that was a slight problem.

The first night I’d met her, I hadn’t expected her to so easily slip beneath my skin. The Organization trained us to avoid such things. No emotional attachments, no sympathy—get the job done and get out.

And yet, Wilder made it seem as though that training never existed. One touch from her and my body felt pleasure in ways I didn’t know possible.

“Get dressed.” I rolled off her.

“Aww.”

Ignoring her, I dug my elbows and knees into the carpet as I army crawled to the window. “I’ve got a safehouse not far from here. We can plan our next move.”

She stood before I could draw the curtains.

“Damn it, Wilder!” I scrambled the rest of the way and grabbed the fabric, drawing them shut.

A bullet whizzed through a moment later. It slid by her. An inch to the left, and at the very least, her cheek would have been grazed.

“Huh.” She looked at the hole in the wall, shrugged, and proceeded to pull on a little red dress.

Absolutely bonkers that one was.

She twirled, but there wasn’t enough fabric to flare out—or leave anything to the imagination.

“Do you like it? I wore it for you.”

Of course, she had.

I walked over and gripped her bicep, pulling her toward the door—which was thankfully not in the line of sight of the window.

“Ah, I see. You just assumed I’d show up.”

She kissed me.

Instinctively, I wanted to continue it. To rip that little bit of fabric off her and taste every inch of her body.

But…

We did not have time for this. The woman they sent would not have the same sentiment I had for Wilder.

Her teeth sank into my lower lip and pain coursed through the tender flesh. I jerked away with a small yell. My blood stained her mouth, and she licked it clean in a sensual manner before grinning.

“Oh, absolutely. If you stopped trying to kill me, I’d be worried you were dead.”

“Darling, I’m not sure if that’s endearing or unsettling.”

She laughed. I shook my head before peeking out the door.

“Oh! Wait!” She ran back and grabbed her knife from the floor. “Can’t forget this.”

“Certainly not.” I took her hand when she returned.

The hallway was clear—at least for the moment. No doubt our foe would be along soon enough.

I removed the gun from my waistband and flicked the safety off. While the shooter had obviously been in a building across the way, it didn’t mean she wasn’t on the move.

Wilder skipped—actually skipped behind me.

No sense in trying to stop her. I did, however, deny her from attempting to slide down the banister in the stairwell.

Escaping with a psychotic woman might not be the easiest thing, but it was most certainly interesting.

As long as I got her to safety. That’s what mattered.

And for the life of me, I didn’t understand why.

CHAPTER THREE

WILDER

A MASHUP OF LONG OBSCENITIES, that may not have otherwise been strung together in human history, spilled from my lips. God damn son of a bitch shot me! Clipped me as we ran from the hotel to the car.

The bees swarmed louder in my head, whispering thoughts of revenge.

The safe house in a downtown area of Boston was much more elaborate than my brain had pictured.

What would a British man call it? Posh? Yeah. A posh pad with tones in white and neutral.

My blood would definitely add a splash of much needed color.

“Dec? With all these windows, we might have to play possum.”

“No worries there, darling. They’re bullet resistant. Besides, The Organization has no knowledge of this place. We’re safe.”

Crimson life force dripped from my arm, leaving a speckled trail on the light wood floors. He led me into a bathroom with a large shower, and one of those spa tubs on the side.

“Fancy.”

He pointed at the toilet seat. “Sit.”

A shiver rippled down my spine as I sat. “So demanding.”

He knelt in front of the sink and opened the cabinet. “Something tells me you quite like that.”

I giggled, despite the pain in my arm. The noise settled enough to feel the throb from the wound even more. The sound of laughter faded into one of annoyance. “Ugh!”

It was only a flesh wound. It had been sheer dumb luck—and I wasn’t upset at the universe for offering it. I had intimate dances with lady luck, took shots with situations of chance, and put every burning ember I possessed into each moment of passion.

Life was too short.

And our choices could be taken away in the blink of a gleaming eye.

I’d enjoy freedom while I still had it.

It’s why I did indeed like Declan’s demanding tone. His dominance turned me on—allowed me to let go. Stupid to trust him? Abso-fucking-lutely. But life was nothing if not a series of risks.

He pulled a trauma kit out and stood. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

He walked over to sit on the edge of the tub as he dug through the box.

“Who did they send?” I asked.

It had been the question since the first bullet hit the wall. I still wondered, even after he’d saved me, if this wasn’t a long game.

The Organization might be playing with me, and they would have no issue using Declan as their token.

Good thing the noise in my head whispered cheat codes and other ways to win against the house.

He hesitated for a moment and his fingers stilled. “Marissa Jones.”

“Wow. Oh wow!” I brought my hands up to cover the laugh. Pain shot through my arm, and I winced, but also smiled.

“Daft woman.” Declan inspected the wound.

“I’m honored. She is one of the best. But it also means they must be desperate.”

The fleshy, outside part of the muscle had been hit, but it was just that—a flesh wound. If the bullet had even grazed the bone, I’d be much more immobile. Not the first time I’d been shot, and most likely not the last.

“Perhaps.” Declan wiped the wound with a cloth.

Marissa Jones was the only other woman within The Organization who was as crazy as I. Only she had control—or so they assumed.

Sometimes, when you didn’t want anyone to know just how dangerous you could be, you let them think they had you on a short leash. That they could call their pet and make them do their bidding on command.

I grew tired of pretending.

“Of course, they might also be slightly cross at your antics.” He poured alcohol on the wound, and I snapped my teeth at him.

“Down, darling. This must be done.”

I blew him a raspberry.

The edge of his lip twitched. “You won’t need stitches, thankfully. Take a shower. I’ll bandage it up after.”

“Don’t want me to get blood on the sheets?”

He sneered as he set the trauma kit aside and stood to turn on the water. “Preferably not from the man you just killed, no.”

Ah. Right. The mark.

I’d almost forgotten about him.

By now, someone would have found the body. The authorities would find my DNA at the scene, but it wouldn’t lead anywhere. I didn’t exist. No agent, past, present, or future, did.

The Organization was worldwide. Most countries had a faction—but there were agents on every continent, in every major government organization, and in every branch of law enforcement.

“Come on, then.” He tested the water with his hand. “Nice and hot for you.”

I stood, stretching out and ignoring the pain. The wound still bled, and now the adrenaline was wearing off. Someone must have poured wet sand into my bones when I wasn’t looking.

“Going to join me?”

“I’ve got a few things to take care of. To ensure we aren’t found.” He smiled in an amused and seductive manner.

Another wave of goosebumps rippled over my skin. My toes curled.

I had no idea what it was about Declan Booth. The calm to my hurricane. The stillness to my monsoon.

If anything was something, and lies became true—I knew one thing for certain.

I couldn’t trust him.

CHAPTER FOUR

DECLAN

I HELPED Wilder into the shower and gave her some privacy. I left the door ajar slightly and walked into the bedroom. With distance between us, my brain worked at maximum capacity again. Christ, that woman did me in. Each time I saw her, it only grew worse.

I scrubbed a hand over my perpetual five o’clock shadow. There was no doubt that Marissa had seen us escape together. She’d report it to The Organization.

Bloody wonderful.

They’d had their suspicions, certainly, but prior to Wilder, there’d only been one mission I’d ever failed to accomplish. It had taken quite a long time to gain my status back. And yet here I was, putting it at risk again.

Over Wilder fucking Kelley.

What in the absolute hell was I doing?

I walked to the bed and sat on the edge, my dark slacks stark against the white bedding. I opened the drawer on the side table. A phone charged inside. While we had designated phones from The Organization, it was smart to keep a multitude of burners just in case. Each safehouse had one discreetly tucked away. Easy to use and dispose of.

Steam billowed out of the bathroom. The image of Wilder standing under the hot spray distracted me for a moment, before I shook the thought of her naked form from my mind. There were more important things to attend to.

I turned the phone on. It chimed as it booted up.

Once again, my thoughts reminded me that killing her would make all this much easier. There was no history. Not before seven months ago. I’d lived on the west coast of the United States for well over a decade. I still missed England, but The Organization had wanted me here—and when they could no longer tolerate Wilder’s antics, they pulled me in to handle the situation.

And yet…what? Was one woman worth throwing away my entire life for? Literally? Failing a mission came with consequences—but siding with the mark? That was a death sentence.

The screen flashed brightly in the dimly lit room. I scrolled through the contacts and tapped on Luigi’s Italian Restaurant. With a sigh, I put the phone to my ear.

Someone answered, but the silence resonated.

“The bridge is falling,” I said.

“Brick by brick, it tumbles down.”

“It’s been some time, hasn’t it, Lachlan?”

“Declan Booth.” His voice was low and rumbling. “I didn’t expect to hear from you again.”

“No. I suppose not, but I have a situation.”

“The anticipation is riveting.” The droll tone hung on the line.

He was most likely enjoying this far too much.

“I need to make someone disappear.”

“Isn’t that quite literally your job?”

“Yes, but the fact remains. I’ve been…compromised.”

Silence stretched between us for a moment. “The Organization?”

“Would not be amused.”

He grunted. “Putting me in a dangerous situation.”

“That is, quite literally, your job.”

“Smart ass.”

“Can you help or not?”

He let out a sigh. “Two hundred thousand. Send me the information. I’ll make sure there’s nothing left behind, but past that, no promises.”

My lip curled up in distaste. Lachlan always was quite crude.

“Forty-eight hours then. I’ll meet you at Pike’s Old Fishing Pier.”

“I know the place. I’ll text you the details in an encrypted file. It will delete after you read it. Five a.m. This will be easier if the sun isn’t up. Fewer witnesses.”

“Cheers.” I hung up and guilt gnawed at my belly like tiny piranha ripping me apart from the inside out.

I threw the phone in the drawer and slammed it shut with enough force that the wood cracked. My head fell into my hands as the pressure of a looming headache built.

I’m not sure how long I sat there before the cocking hammer of a gun echoed in my ears.

CHAPTER FIVE

WILDER

THE SURPRISE PASSED across his face for only a quick moment before he went stoic again. Something in my head said I’d be better off if I put the bullet into him now. If I killed him and continued on my way.

But there was still the problem of Jones. The Organization would always send someone else until I was good and dead.

The bees droned in my skull. He’d been on the phone. But I didn’t know with who.

“Trying to make me disappear?” I walked toward him. A blast of chilled air from the vent rushed over my nude form, cooling my skin after the hot shower. Goosebumps rippled across my flesh.

The wound on my arm seeped blood. It might not require stitches, but it would need butterfly bandages.

“Yes.” He gave one curt nod.

The answer made me bristle. Anger settled in my chest. “So you are trying to kill me.”

It wasn’t a question. Despite my attraction to the well sculpted man on the bed, and his better-than-average skills between the sheets—okay, his insanely excellent make-me-scream-with-ecstasy skills—I knew it would eventually come to this.

He needed me dead so he could keep his precious place within The Organization.

“I did say that if anyone were to kill you, it would be me.” He leaned back, resting his hands on the bed.

I walked over. My hair dripped cool rivulets of water down my shoulders. He looked so sure of himself. So extremely sexy just lying there. A bulge pressed against his pants.

My naked body did that.

That’s all it took.

Me walking into the room.

Yes, it could happen for many men, but there was something about Declan and his disciplined nature—and how I knew that having a hard-on in this manner was not in control for him.

“You should probably make up your mind soon.” I straddled him. Heat coursed between my legs, even as I pressed the gun to his chest.

Or maybe because I did.

“Are you in a hurry to die?” He lifted his hips slightly, that bulge hot and pulsing beneath me.

A moan bubbled up my throat and rushed into the air. “No, but The Organization might put a price on your head if you don’t do what they ordered. They aren’t great with patience.”

He sat up, making the barrel press harder against his skin. “It appears you have a mind to take care of that for them.”

His hands slid over my thighs, and goosebumps flourished for an entirely new reason.

Each touch set pulses of electricity through my nerve endings. The buzzing grew quieter.

“It’d be the smart thing to do.”

He shifted his hips again. The slacks between us kept me from feeling his skin—from him pressing inside of me. I needed that, as attested by the growing wetness between my thighs.

I almost forgot why I held a gun to his chest.

Almost.

Declan slid a hand around and roughly gripped my ass. “Killing me won’t solve your problems, though, will it?”

“No, but killing me will solve yours.” I moved the barrel up under his chin, even as I rocked my hips against him. “Who were you on the phone with?”

His head tilted back to relieve the pressure, but there was no fear in his eyes.

It almost disappointed me.

I would put a bullet in him if I had to. He couldn’t have any doubt about that.

“No one you need to worry about.”

My brows shot up. “Just say you’re plotting to kill me, Declan.”

His hands left trails of fire where he touched me. Each flame pulsed deep inside of me, bringing a light tingle of pleasure along with it.

“Right now, darling, I want to do other things. And they are much better if you are both breathing and willing.” He slid his fingers between my thighs, finding the heat at my center.

I gasped sharply as he caressed my most sensitive areas, igniting a primal need.

“And you’re very willing, aren’t you?”

I pressed the barrel harder against his chin. “Don’t play head games with me, Declan.” I leaned in until my lips barely brushed against his. “I’m better at them than you.”

A devilish grin spread across his face. “Truer words were never spoken.”

My chest tightened and the fog in my mind lifted a bit more. I uncocked the gun, lowering the hammer, and then flipped the safety on. “Even without a gun, I can still kill you.”

“I know.” He crushed his lips to mine.

Each touch set me on fire. Each kiss sent molten lava directly to my core. We made quick work of his clothes, and then…

Then he gave me exactly what I needed.

CHAPTER SIX

WILDER

DECLAN’S NAKED, sculpted body pressed against mine, completely quieting the madness in my mind and driving it into the void. He was everything. I didn’t know why. There was no rational explanation.

Then again, I’d never been rational.

We rolled and tumbled across the bed, eager and pleasurable sounds escaping us both. I explored all my favorite parts of his body. My fingers brushed over the inside of his thigh and made him groan. My lips pressed to the sensitive area behind his ear, and he gripped me harder. I found those spots, caressed his scars. I used my fingers, my tongue, my body, and each reaction he gave only heightened my own pleasure.

I sank to my knees in front of him and held his gaze as I took his long, thick cock into my mouth.

This must be what ambrosia tasted like, because nothing compared to his flavors.

He moaned and gripped my hair, tugging just to the point of pain.

It was glorious.

He bucked his hips, and his need shot through me like a primal language. There was a wildness to him he never showed outside of when we fucked. Declan prided himself on control.

With a growl, he pulled me away. Before I could protest, he hauled me up and threw me on the bed. A cry of surprise and excitement escaped me. I giggled. He grabbed my thighs and pulled me to the edge. His mouth covered my hot pussy, his short stubble tickling my skin. The laughs faded, replaced by sounds that a person only made when the rawest form of pleasure caught them off guard.

It was my turn to run fingers through his hair, bucking my hips, and crying out with desperation. The intensity built. I was close—so close.

“Declan.” His name, that one word, was filled with want and the need for him to drive me over the edge.

He slid a finger inside of me, his mouth sucking on my clit. The orgasm hit hard and fast. It pulsed from my center to every nerve in my body. I screamed.

Before I finished riding the wave of pleasure, he was at my entrance, driving into me with the force of a lightning bolt that strikes so close the energy crackles on your skin.

I ignited all over again.

“Fuck. Wilder.” He leaned forward, burying his face in my neck.

I gasped as he grabbed my wrists and pinned them above my head. He drove into me with chaos and desperation.

“Yes! Declan!” I wrapped my legs around his hips and dug my heels into his ass, driving him deeper. I struggled, trying to free my hands, but he didn’t relent.

It drove me crazy in an entirely new way.

I leaned forward, sinking teeth into his shoulder. The combination of flesh and blood mingled on my tongue before he screamed and pulled back.

He loosened his grip. I grinned and rolled us, my thighs tight to his sides so he couldn’t slide out. I didn’t want to lose the sublime sensations of him filling me.

I rode him, his thick cock touching the deepest, most intimate places inside of me.

It was so different from anyone I’d been with. When it came to Declan, there was no such thing as enough.

He gripped my hips, bucking up with hard, merciless thrusts. Our cries grew louder, more desperate.

“So bloody sexy.” He moved his hands over my body. He massaged my breasts as his thumbs flicked across my sensitive nipples.

The second orgasm crashed through me like a tornado through a trailer park. It ripped through every fiber of my being. I screamed in ecstasy.

Declan sat up and wrapped his arms around me. He slammed his lips against mine, thrusting harder as I shuddered, coming completely undone.

“Fuck! Fuck!” He thickened inside of me and drove into me with such force, I felt it deep within me as he came.

CHAPTER SEVEN

DECLAN

I TOOK Wilder two more times during the night. She made me utterly insatiable. No other person had ever graced the penthouse. The safehouses were my sanctuary. No one else knew about them. Yet, for some unfathomable reason, I had christened nearly every room with a madwoman who now laid beside me.

I imagined my neighbors below might put a noise complaint in tomorrow morning.

Her hair was still damp as I kissed the top of her head. It left a gentle, cooling sensation on my lips.

After both simultaneously getting dirty and cleaning up in the shower, I’d bandaged her arm, wrapped her in a fluffy gray robe, and brought her to bed. We relaxed together—which was more intimate than anything after our previous rows. Wilder became annoyed with the robes, so we’d discarded them on the floor, which left nothing at all between us. I rather enjoyed the feeling.

It was—odd. Because I found myself relishing it much more than I should.

“What happens now?” she asked.

What indeed. Things had become quite complicated. Wilder had been right before. Escaping the all-seeing eye of The Organization was no easy feat.

“If we’re honest, there isn’t much of a choice.”

“There’s always a choice, until they’re taken away.”

I tilted my head, looking at her curiously.

She shifted against me, moving closer as if I could shield her from the world. Wilder could take care of herself in every sense of the word. No doubt about that. But she was more vulnerable than she allowed people to see.

And I hated myself for what was to come.

“The Organization likes to steal choices away from us. Even if we don’t realize it.”

Couldn’t exactly disagree. The Organization expected their agents to abide by a certain set of rules. The entire reason Wilder was wanted was because she refused to adhere to that. Why she’d dissented and ultimately defected, I didn’t know.

“Yes. I imagine that’s true in some ways.”

“In every way.” Her nails dug into my chest.

I gently wrapped my hand around hers, pulling her away from my skin. I had plenty of marks from our many aggressive romps. But her physical reaction hadn’t seemed entirely conscious. Her gaze had gone distant, as if remembering something.

“What is it, Wilder? What is it that makes so much commotion in your head?”

She laughed, shrill and true to her name—wild. “There’s always been a…loudness. I just stopped hiding it.”

I stroked her arm, wondering why it might be like to live that way. To have such turbulence in one’s mind.

She tapped my chest twice. “No reason to pity me. This is how I was built. I know you don’t understand it. I didn’t for a long time. It’s…nice when the noise sometimes quiets. But this is who I am. Once I embraced it, I was much better off.” She frowned. “Only by then, it was much too late.”

A wave of grief rolled off her, as tangible as walking through a mist-sprayer in the summer. The weight of it settled on me, and more than ever, I hoped what was to come was the right decision.

“What made you leave The Organization?”

She let out a soft breath and squeezed those hazel eyes shut. “They killed my sister.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

WILDER

“WHAT?” He jerked his head toward me.

By all accounts, Eleanor Kelley, or as I called her, Ellie—yes, Ellie Kelley—had killed herself. Most thought it’s what sent me forcefully over the edge.

Nothing had pushed me. I willingly jumped. Jumped away from the constraints of what The Organization expected—of what and who they dictated I had to be.

I walked my fingers around a small patch of his chest hair. It was coarse and curly, and the texture soothed me. “They didn’t pull the trigger, but they put the gun in her hand when they tried to control her body.”

His grip tightened on me. “What do you mean?”

“She was in a relationship with Ian Marcone.”

He sucked in a breath.

“Yeah. No shitters, man. Talk about foul tastes in men.”

Ian Marcone had been one of the higher-level executives of The Organization. A legacy of the main council.

“Marcone died in a car accident almost a year ago.” Declan shifted, turning more so he could look into my eyes.

“That’s the official story.”

“Christ, Wilder. Are you saying you killed him?”

I cackled but didn’t answer. I wasn’t exactly sane, but I wasn’t stupid.

“Fuck. They never told me about any of this.”

“Why would they? It had nothing to do with the assignment.”

He leaned back again, looking at the ceiling. I imagined actual clock-like cog gears spinning in his head as he tried to understand all of this.

“What did he do to your sister?”

“Well, first he beat her. Which if I’d known…” I trailed off, remembering not to incriminate myself. “But then she got pregnant. And he forced her to keep it.”

“Christ.”

“The Organization backed his play.”

“Yes, I suppose they would.” He sounded almost resigned.

“Bad ass bitches can be abused, too.”

My throat tightened, thinking about all the pain she endured. I hadn’t been there. I should have been, but she hid it well. Never let me see it.

It all could have been avoided, like burnt popcorn.

Even though there’s a button on the microwave for it, and you think it will pop perfectly, you still have to watch it or else it will crisp and shrivel, leaving a bitter taste behind.

When she called—when she said goodbye, her words cut into my heart, sawing off a large chunk that she took with her to the afterlife.

Noise flooded my head. Memories and thoughts I didn’t want. Especially not of Ellie. But the conversations came back.

“Just breathe, Ellie.” My hand tightened around the phone. “We’ll figure this out. The Organization must have a reason.”

“The only reason is so they can control me. Control us.” Her voice was erratic, filled with pain. Something I’d been used to coming from me, but not her. Never her. She was the rock, the solid mountain that protected us.

Only she’d started to crumble.

“I won’t let them. Not anymore. They can’t have me, or this child.”

“Ell—”

“Listen to me, Wilder. Get out. Leave as fast as you can. I love you, okay? Goodbye, little sister.”

Her words carried a finality that made me shiver as my blood turned to ice.

I wanted to call 911, but that would not go over well. So, I called The Organizations own emergency line.

But we’d all been too late.

Every atom in my body burst with grief as it played like a 3D movie in my mind.

Declan caught my hand. I’d been pulling on my hair and hadn’t noticed it.

“That is absolutely abhorrent.” He brought my palm to his lips and kissed it.

It took a moment to realize that, as the story replayed in my head, I’d said it out loud. It should have been her choice. But The Organization wanted recruits. Ellie and I, we’d been young. I’d been eight, she’d been ten. They would have trained the child at a much younger age, and he or she would have been another legacy of the council.

I closed my eyes, but the noise in my head grew. It was more than whispers—there was a swarm of bees that drowned out any sensible thought. Everything inside of me wanted to find someone else to kill. To take my pain out on a bastard who deserved worse agony.

Instead, I grabbed Declan and pulled him on top of me, kissing him with an urgency and need that made me feel desperate. Maybe I was. Desperate to feel anything other than darkness—Declan harnessed my chaos. He read my body, even now. His hands roamed and explored. He pulled me closer and thrust into me, chasing the noise away.

I don’t know how we came to be like this—but I didn’t want to let him go. Not unless he really did try to kill me.

CHAPTER NINE

DECLAN

THERE WAS NO OTHER WAY. I had to do this.

In the early morning hours, we slipped from the penthouse. As far as Wilder understood, I was taking her to a drop off point so she could gather her things and slip out of town. The Organization would hunt her again. To be honest, sometimes it was almost too easy. As if she were leaving a trail for us to find.

Or maybe it was only for me.

But Marissa Jones was dangerous—and she took as many risks, if not more than Wilder. But in a different, more brutal way. She wouldn’t relent until Wilder bathed in a pool of her own blood.

Then again, Wilder might get to Jones first.

The problem was, there would be another. More ruthless and relentless every time until they had what they wanted.

This was a mercy. Whether Wilder knew it or not.

So why did guilt swim through the deepest parts of my soul?

Even now, Jones followed us. Her dark SUV was three vehicles back. The tinted windows concealed her face, but the vehicle had moved in and out of the lanes, staying away, but close enough to follow.

I pulled up to the lot for the abandoned pier downtown. It had been condemned two years ago, though several homeless and drug users still hung around. Only a few lingered this early in the morning.

Wilder said nothing. She looked at me, and the betrayal in her eyes nearly gutted me.

“You’ve made your decision, then.” There was a resignation in her tone, a defeat in her shoulders.

“It has to be this way, Wilder. I should have done this the first moment I saw you.”

She clenched her fists. “Instead, you toyed with me…”

No. Never that, but I stayed silent. After everything she told me, I was taking this very pivotal choice from her. What an absolute bastard I’d become.

I killed the engine and got out. I pulled the same gun she’d used on me the night before from the waistband of my pants and clicked the safety off as I walked around and opened her door.

“Let’s go, darling.”

She stepped out, her Converse sneakers dipping into the sand. Once she was clear, I shut the door and gestured at her waist.

“Knife please.”

“I knew I couldn’t trust you.”

The betrayal in her voice gutted me worse than the blade would have.

She lifted her shirt and pulled the weapon from the sheath before tossing it down. She frowned. “My favorite one.”

“Yes, well, forgive me for being thorough.”

She started walking, keeping her hands out at her sides, fingers so straight it looked painful. I couldn’t imagine the noise going through her head, but I knew not to trust this acquiescence. Wilder wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Just as we stepped foot onto the dilapidated wood of the pier, the SUV pulled up. Marissa Jones got out and aimed her gun.

I stepped in front of Wilder. She may very well kill Jones, but for now, I needed her alive. “Thank you for the assistance, but I’ve got it from here.”

Marissa’s long, dark hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail. She narrowed her gaze at me. “You helped her escape, Booth. That’s not exactly on mission.”

“Always a stickler.” I wagged a finger at her. “Sometimes, the mission isn’t always what it appears to be.”

“And I never am.” Wilder knocked my hand away, and a searing pain shot through my shoulder from the knife now embedded deep within the skin. I cried out, but held tight to the gun.

Wilder hit my cheek with a right hook and then took off running down the pier.

Jones just sighed and shook her head. “Never send a man to do anyone’s job.”

Before she could pull the trigger, I did.

Wilder screamed. Her arms flew out to her side. Her back bowed as she flew forward, flipping over the railing. My heart shattered as she fell into the rough waters below.

Instant regret coursed through—me a thing I had never felt before.

Jones ran to the end of the pier along with me. The knife still protruded from my shoulder. I didn’t dare pull it out and cause worse damage. She gripped the rotted wood as we both looked over. Wilder’s body floated face down for a moment before vicious, dark waves pulled her under.

CHAPTER TEN

DECLAN

THREE DAYS LATER, they still scoured the ocean for her body. Though at this point, it wasn’t likely they’d find her. The undertow had most likely taken her far out to sea where the fish would feast upon her. If they found anything, it would be pieces—but the sea was a cruel thing when she wanted to be.

My chest ached—more than I thought it would. Wilder had been the only woman who made me feel more than basic instincts and anger.

And indeed, I’d been the one to kill her.

Jones stood next to me, arms crossed over her chest as she looked out at the sea. “If I hadn’t seen you take the shot, I wouldn’t believe it. Neither would anyone else.”

“Probably not.”

Most assuredly not. A witness had been necessary.

I adjusted the sling on my arm. Wilder had hit nothing vital—which made me wonder if it was simply a random defensive swing in an attempt to escape, or if it was much more calculated, even in that chaotic moment.

“You’re in deep, Booth.” Jones crossed her arms over her chest. “They’re not going to trust you. Soon enough, you’ll have your very own assassin trying to take you out.”

“Pardon me.” I turned to look at her. “Perhaps I’ve missed something, but can you explain to me what exactly is happening here?”

“When The Organization loses trust in one of their own, they put them down.” She shrugged a shoulder. “What do you think would have happened to the other Kelley woman once she had the child?”

It seemed I was one of the few who didn’t know the entirety of Eleanor Kelley’s story. It’s no wonder that Wilder went mad. Well—madder than before. The Organization was not good or decent. They certainly weren’t moral, but I imagined there were lines they wouldn’t have crossed.

Clearly, I’d been wrong.

“This isn’t news, Booth. You burned yourself, even if you don’t know it yet.”

My chest tightened as my hand instinctively twitched toward the gun at my hip. Thankfully, Wilder hadn’t taken out my dominate shoulder. The move was subtle, but Jones dipped her chin.

“We don’t need to go there. But maybe it would be prudent for you to disappear as well.”

There was an inclination of knowing under her tone. But it was impossible.

Jones turned on her heel and walked back toward her car.

The sun continued to set. Divers bobbed above the water for a moment, giving a thumbs down, before adjusting their gear and disappearing beneath the surface once more.

Jones was right, though. If I didn’t do something, most likely they’d be searching for two bodies very soon.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

WILDER

A CITY HERE, a city there, a city everywhere. As an agent of The Organization, I’d been to plenty of places. Killed many a person. No remorse. Never that. But now, I was in a small town and it was all unfamiliar territory. Sure, I’d visited before, but lots of land, fresh smelling air, and friendly-natured people weren’t exactly my expertise.

The bullet had clipped my side. On the same limb as the flesh wound.

Of course.

But better that the pain was all in one arm, as opposed to spread out.

I’d stayed beneath the surface of the water, letting the undertow pull me away from the land and toward the jetty. I’d expected to swim around, climb out on the other side of the rocks and make a break for it.

But apparently Declan had created an elaborate plan behind my back. His people were already in place with scuba gear and first aid available once I was on the boat. They’d fabricated an entirely new identity for me. One that was totally untraceable. I snorted when they told me that and then cackled a bit. It seemed to unsettle them.

I could have killed them all and walked away. Then I could have gone and killed Declan for doing it all behind my back.

Instead, I decided to go along with it. I still wasn’t sure why.

I’d been transformed into Lenora Davis. Not a name I would have picked, but that was probably the point.

I was dead to The Organization. At least for the last several months.

But while Declan had shot me, he hadn’t killed me.

I should’ve known better.

Can’t trust anyone at their word.

Now, I sat in a dive bar somewhere in a small town in Mississippi. It looked as though it had been decorated fifty years ago—and never upgraded to meet the times. The stench could be that old as well.

I gestured to Fred, the bartender, for another round of whiskey. He came over, opened his mouth, and I raised an eyebrow. The last time he’d tried to cut me off, and actually called me “little lady” I’d broken his pinky finger. It was still in a splint. They’d wanted to ban me, but I paid enough to cover the medical bills and given him a nice bonus. All he needed to do was shut his trap and pour.

My heart made a funny thud. My stomach twisted. The buzzing whispers flitted through my mind.

I breathed slowly as he filled the glass. A drop of liquid slid over the side as I pulled it to my lips and took a large gulp. The sweetness mixed with liquor lingered on my tongue.

“Peach Schnapps? And here I thought you’d have more of a refined taste.”

My head fell forward as I smiled. “My tastes tend to mimic whatever situation I’m in.”

Declan sat on the stool next to me. He looked around, his nose slightly wrinkled in distaste. “Yes, well. I don’t believe that’s a necessity anymore.”

“Maybe I want to. For the fun of it.”

He raised one brow. “Is that so?”

“Seeing as how you pretended to kill me, and now I’m stuck in this hellhole—I have to find some way to entertain myself.”

“There are better ways.” He gestured to the bartender. “Your finest brandy, please.”

Fred took out a bottle of something or other and poured it. Declan blinked several times, but said nothing as he put down money and brought the drink closer.

“You gave me no choice.”

He swirled the dark liquid around the glass. “I understand what that means to you, and I am sorry, darling. But it had to be as real as possible.”

An ember of anger flickered in my belly, but it didn’t ignite fully. This wasn’t the same as Ellie. He had been trying to protect me, but it still should have been my choice.

“You should know…”

“Hmm?”

“If you ever try to make me do something against my will, I’ll murder you in a way that makes it look like all my past marks had a peaceful death.”

His lip twitched, and he nodded. “Fair.”

I ran my thumb along the edge of the rickety bar. “Did you enjoy killing me?”

“It was somewhat satisfying, yes.” He winked.

“Hmm.” I wasn’t sure I believed that. “Did you come to do it right this time? To keep your promise?”

He shook his head, a strand of dark blond hair falling into his eye. “No, darling.” He sipped the brandy and made a face. “Bloody hell, that is absolutely awful.”

His lips screwed up in distaste, and I giggled. “There’s something satisfying about that, too.”

He set the drink down and swiveled his stool toward me. “You’re having far too much fun with this.”

“What are you doing here, Declan?”

“Declan?” He raised both of his brows. “Well, last I heard, that bloke was dead. His private plane went down. Body burned beyond recognition. There was barely enough DNA to identify him.”

My jaw hung slack.

“My name is Oliver Lawson. Just came over from London, where I’ve lived my whole life.”

Another small smile curled my lips. “You look like more of an Ollie.”

“No.”

I giggled and held out my hand. “Lenora Davis.”

He took it and placed a gentle kiss on my skin. “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

A thrill rushed down my spine as he looked at me with those dark brown eyes. I pressed my thighs together to stifle the pulsing between my legs.

“Well, Ollie.” I smiled at him. “What say we blow this rumsicle stand and go get some good booze?”

He gave an impish grin. “I thought you’d never ask.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

DECLAN

WE LAID in the bed of her small apartment. It was just something to tide her over until The Organization stopped looking for a body in the ocean. Until then, Wilder—or rather Lenore—had been instructed to keep her head down. Otherwise, her next death might be very real.

Making love to Lenore was no different from Wilder.

That word paused in my head.

Love.

Were we making love?

Her teeth marks were ingrained in my skin. We hadn’t been gentle. Instead, it had been raw, instinctual. Neither of us held back, just following the flow of where the passion led.

But was it love?

“Why did you go through with it?” Wilder traced the mark she’d left on my chest.

“What? Death?” I tilted my head to look down at her. Her hair flared out around her, and her naked body was on display for me. No bashfulness, no hesitation. She gave me everything. From that first night—even if it couldn’t be forever. She held nothing back. Wilder was not a half-arsed kind of woman.

She nodded.

I tightened my arm around her. “Is it not obvious, darling?”

“Tell me anyway.”

I used a finger to tip her chin up. She gazed at me, soul bared. Strong yet vulnerable. Gorgeous, but fierce.

“I love you. By whatever name you carry. Wilder, Lenore. It doesn’t matter.”

My heart beat sped up as I spoke the words. Each thunderous drum in my ears telling me to carry on. To let myself be as honest as she’d always been.

“I love you, darling. Fairly certain I have since the first moment I laid eyes on you.”

She cackled and snorted at the same time.

Utterly adorable.

“Bollocks.” I ran fingers through my hair. “I sound daft. Before meeting you, I’d have said only children and fools believed in romance and love. Especially love at first sight.”

“I’m not laughing at you.” She slid on top of me, her thighs straddling my hips.

Her heat warmed my skin. I sat up and leaned against the headboard before resting my hands on her lower back.

“I’m…” She tilted her head, as if pondering for the right words. “I’m crazy. There’s no doubt about that. But I thought the same when I first saw you. The love thing, I mean. And that—maybe, just maybe, somehow my sister had set this up from beyond the grave. She would.”

I chuckled. She was sincere in every word. She could very well be correct. What did I know anymore? I’d thrown away my entire life for this woman.

“If she did, I’m forever in her debt.”

Wilder smiled and leaned in, pressing her lips against mine.

I take it back. I hadn’t thrown anything away.

I’d never really lived before finding the gorgeous creature in my arms. Perhaps her madness had consumed us both.

I was more than all right with that.

EPILOGUE

WILDER

IT HAD BEEN a year and three months since we escaped the clutches of The Organization. The divers never found a body. Eventually, they’d given up. As long as I didn’t draw attention, Lenore was safe.

I missed my real name—maybe someday I could reclaim it. But right now, I was happy to be with Oliver Lawson. My husband.

And he said I was mad. Ha! Getting married was more insane than anything I could imagine. But he’d asked every day for six months before I finally relented.

How could I say no to the man who had brought me back to life, killed me, and then died so he could be with me?

Yes, I might be crazy, but he was absolutely bonkers.

I loved it. I loved him.

I sipped on a glass of wine, staring out the window of our penthouse that overlooked the breathtaking city of London. Neither of us were cut out for small town living, and as soon as we were certain the coast was clear, we hightailed it out of Mississippi. It worked with the cover Declan had been given. Oliver had simply taken his American bride home.

Strong, warm hands slipped around me, and his perfect lips pressed against my neck. I moaned and closed my eyes, leaning into him.

“How are you doing, darling?”

He was worried. Today was the anniversary of my sister’s death. He thought I might get squirrelly.

I rested my free hand over his and sipped my wine.

“I haven’t stabbed anything or anyone.”

“Very encouraging.” He kissed my neck again. “Too much blood may put us back on the radar.”

“I’m not going after The Organization. That’s suicide.” I wrinkled my nose. “I’m crazy, not stupid.”

He relaxed against me. “Hmm. I can agree with that.”

“It was never about taking them down.” I looked at him over my shoulder. “It was about taking out those who took choices away from others. Like they did to my sister.”

Some type of emotion washed through his eyes, but I had never been good at deciphering them.

“The Organization didn’t appreciate that I could draw attention to them. I just didn’t give a fuck.”

He rested his chin on my shoulder. “For what it’s worth, you’ll always have a choice, darling. So long as I breathe. I won’t let anyone take it away from you. Not even me.”

I sipped the wine and then set it on a nearby table before turning in his arms. “I know.” I slid my fingers behind his neck and pulled him in, locking our lips together.

He moaned and pressed me into the window, his hands sliding under my ass as he lifted me. I wrapped my legs around his hips.

“Shall we give the neighboring buildings a show?” I asked.

His cock hardened against my core. “The Board is going to evict us.”

“They can try.” I giggled, but he cut it off with a kiss.

My heart fluttered. My entire body ignited.

And in sanity or madness, we’d never let each other go.

About the Author

Natasha grew up as a tomboy hanging with the guys, getting skinned knees, and swimming under the South Florida sun. Tattoos, Jack Daniels, and lounging at the pool are three of her favorite things. She is a wife, a mother, has two fur babies who love puppy piles, and the status of her sanity is pending.

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SAVING HIS HEART

NICOLE BLANCHARD

REMY

I’VE NEVER BELIEVED in ghosts.

You can’t see as much death as we do and get hung up on what happens afterward, or it’ll drive you crazy. That’s why, when I see her for the first time in God knows how long, I’m damn prepared to admit she’s finally done what she promised to do all those years ago… she’s finally driven me completely insane.

It’s early morning after a long night of battling another fire at one of the community landmarks. This time it was an old park—the covered picnic area, the wooden play castle and benches, all doused in gasoline and reduced to ash. There’s no denying it now—whomever is setting these fires has a vendetta against Battleboro. It may as well be a vendetta against me personally, because I live and breathe this small town. I’ve never lived anywhere else and never wanted to. Hell, I practically grew up in this very park.

That’s what gets me. I know practically everyone in Battleboro. Went to school with a good chunk of them. And there’s no one—no one—I can imagine who would want to defile it this way. Arson is a personal, vengeful act of pure destruction. Whoever did this is angry. Very angry. The knowledge that they may never stop is even worse than the destruction. Especially when their actions will eventually result in the loss of more life.

“Go home,” says our captain, Ezekiel “Zeke” Ross. He’s nearly twice my width, but it’s all muscle. Dude could have been a pro football player after college but chose to come to Battleboro and work Fire & Rescue. His expression is grave, more so than usual. No doubt he’s feeling the pressure from the local suits and community alike. Zeke drinks deeply from a bottle of water, sweat pouring down his face and disappearing into his thick, black beard. “Get some sleep. You’re back on in another twenty-four.”

I’d argue, but I’m exhausted, so I nod and stow my gear back in the rig. My partner, twenty-four-year-old Jackson “Jax” Grady, has more energy than the rest of us combined and talks my damn ear off the whole way back to the station. He’s a good kid, but damn. I don’t even need to answer—just grunt every now and then.

By the time I get in my truck an hour later, I merely sit for a minute and enjoy the sound of silence. More of the same greets me when I get back to the empty house I bought three years ago and started renovating. It’s been a slow process with the constant increase in the price of supplies and my busy work schedule, but I have no one else to answer to, so I don’t mind.

I head straight for the shower and let the hot water wash away the sooty grime coating my skin in a thick layer. My muscles loose and mind clear but exhausted, I fall into bed after barely toweling off and forgoing any clothes. Seconds later, I’m fast asleep.

The sound of the doorbell jolts me back awake, and by the gritty feeling in my eyes, I must not have been asleep long. Stuffing my head into the pillows, I pray whoever it is will give me a break and go the fuck away so I can get some sleep. Three more sharp blasts, and ring, ring, ring.

Growling, I get to my feet and shove my legs into a pair of sweatpants I find on the floor. As soon as I tell whoever it is to go the hell away, I’m going to rip the doorbell out of the wall and pass out for the rest of the day. The tile I’m laying in the kitchen can wait another few days. I’m fucking wiped.

Ring, ring, ring again.

I jerk open the door and snarl, “What?” before I recognize the person on the other side.

Certain I’m still dreaming, I rub at my eyes and then blink blearily at the woman on my front porch. No. I’m not seeing things. It’s her. Or at least someone who looks damn near identical to her.

Same long, wavy blonde hair. The kind a man can sink his hands or nose into to remind him of soft things in this world. The same striking blue eyes with a ring of gold around the center, making them almost green at times. Her rosy lips part in surprise at my appearance.

Colette “Lettie” Remington.

The only woman I’ve ever loved.

The only woman I’ve ever hated.

On my doorstep.

Certain she’s a ghost—there’s no other logical explanation—I reach out, nab her wrist in one of my hands and smother the sound of her surprise with my lips.

LETTIE

NOTHING ABOUT BATTLEBORO was familiar anymore. The hurricane had changed so much of its topography, and the eleven years since I last stepped foot in Lake County had done a lot to dull the memories. Well, at least some of them. But for the most part, there was only a vague sense of deja vu, like a recollection that wouldn’t fully coalesce.

It wasn’t until I turned down the street where I spent most of my teenage years that a ball of tension grew inside me. The towering oaks that lined the center of the street were still the same, though maybe a little barer than I had ever seen them. Most of the houses were standing with noticeably new roofs and porches. Some of them were empty and covered in blue tarps, abandoned.

I stop at the end of the cul-de-sac in front of a familiar 1960s ranch. A pang of nostalgia, surprisingly sharp, pierces through me, stealing my breath and making my vision go blurry. I put the car in park in front of the house. Dimly, I recognize the sound of birds twittering, and somewhere close, children shriek with laughter.

Precisely the kind of small-town vibes I always thought I wanted to escape. But now, they filled me with a strange sense of homecoming. Belonging.

Unexpected, considering I’d essentially been chased out of town by the very man I was here to see. The very man I’ve hated for the better part of my life.

Remington.

I’d done my best not to think about him since I put Battleboro in my rear view. But now I needed answers, an apology, and the truth.

We’ll start with the apology.

It’s a long time coming.

No doubt he won’t make it easy, but nothing with Remy was ever easy.

Well, almost nothing.

Pushing thoughts of the past out of my mind, I turn the car off and pocket the keys. The long sidewalk from the road to the front of the house looks like it’s recently been re-paved and the boxwoods lining it are neatly trimmed. He was always the persnickety sort. Things had to be just so. I guess a better way to describe it would be “anal.” Which always used to piss him off.

The sight of the identical rocking chairs on the front porch—albeit with fresh paint—catches me unawares. I press a hand to the gnawing ache in my stomach and shove the memory away. Now is not the time.

I put a finger to the doorbell and push before I can talk some sense into myself. Ring.

It hadn’t taken long once I got into town to find out when Remy would be off work. A firefighter. Of course, he was.

A few minutes later, he still hasn’t answered. So I push the doorbell again several times in rapid succession. Ring, ring, ring.

I’VE COME ALL this way. I can’t turn around now.

Finally, I hear the sound of heavy footsteps from deep inside the house. My heart seems to beat in time with them. Thump… thump… thump. I don’t know whether I’m going to throw up or pass out, but I’m feeling decidedly lightheaded the closer they get.

One second, I’m steeped in memories of the rocking chairs, this front porch, and the man on the other side. The next, he’s ripped the door open, an exasperated expression on his face. I watch his lips move, but I don’t hear a damn thing. The blood rushing to my head fills my ears, and I sway. My hand grips the door jamb so I don’t fall right into him.

Remy.

I try to gather the words I’ve practiced the entire journey across the country, but they don’t come out. We stand there for a moment, looking at each other. Me trying to work up the nerve, and him like I’m the last person on Earth he expected to find on his doorstep. And he’s not wrong. If I remember correctly, the last time I saw him, he said if I ever came back, he’d make my life a living hell.

I guess we’ll find out if he’s going to hold me to that promise eleven years later.

I open my mouth to spit out my carefully rehearsed lines, and he seems to make up his mind about something. Then, in the next breath, he’s hauling me against the wall of his chest and kissing me with a raw brutality that makes me very aware he hasn’t forgotten a moment of what happened between us. The good… and the bad.

All my careful planning. All the years we’ve spent apart.

It’s like none of it exists the moment his lips touch mine.

He kisses me like he wants to hurt me. Like he wants to punish me. He kisses me like a man on the edge who knows if he doesn’t kiss me, he’ll do something worse. Though I’m not sure what could be worse. Tasting him, having my body react the way it always has in his vicinity, is punishment enough. Because it’s the only thing I’ve wanted in the eleven years since I left Battleboro.

In the barest moment of my submission, he plunders my mouth with his ruthless tongue. Claiming and taunting and merciless. I make a sound of surprise. Delight? Surrender? And it’s enough to break the spell between us. He pulls away, leaving me rattled, unsettled, and off-kilter. Exactly like he always has.

I stumble back until I’m pressed against the porch railing. Of all the reactions to my coming home, Remy kissing me was in any of the scenarios I imagined. Running me out of town? Yes. Exacting revenge? Yes.

Kissing me?

No way in hell.

A smart girl would curse a blue streak vicious enough to tear the hide off his back. And I’ve always prided myself on being a smart girl. In every way except where he is concerned.

“What the hell was that?” I ask.

“So, you are real,” he mutters. His voice is rough with sleep and arousal. A spurt of lust ignites inside me, and I nearly sway with the power of it.

No. No, no, no. I can’t do this again.

Shaking my head, I force myself to focus. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but this is not why I came here.”

“This is exactly why you came here.”

With that statement, he tugs me inside and slams the door behind us.

I should resist him.

But I don’t.

I shouldn’t want this.

But I always have.

My heart thunders in my ears, and my palm is sweaty inside his big hand. I’m certain he can feel me shaking as the darkness of his bedroom envelopes us. I’m going to regret this when it’s over.

But as he pulls me to the bed, I forget every reason why it’s such a mistake.

For now, I give in to the desires I’ve repressed for so long.

For now, I lose myself in him.

Start the Battleboro Fire & Rescue Series FREE!

Read book one, Storming His Heart here.

About the Author

Nicole Blanchard is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of gritty romantic suspense and heartwarming new adult romance. She and her family reside in the south along with menagerie of animals. Visit her website www.authornicoleblanchard.com for more information or to subscribe to her newsletter for updates on sales and new releases.

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MARRYING A GALA GIRL

AN OWEN NORTH SHORT STORY

NINA LEVINE

CHAPTER ONE

CHARLIZE

January 28

A MOTHER SHOULD NEVER BE ALLOWED ANYWHERE near her daughter’s wedding. Neither should a mother-in-law. I’m almost at the point where I’m ready to commit crimes that will land me in prison for life thanks to my mother and mother-in-law.

I look at my husband who is currently removing his shirt in our bedroom after just arriving home from work. Usually, this act alone would completely distract me from any other thoughts, but not today. Today, I’m consumed by overwhelm caused by our mothers.

“I can’t go on, Owen. They’re too much. I mean, we’ve still got three months of this to survive. They may both be dead by the time this wedding takes place.” My eyes widen. “This wedding may not even happen! Your wife may be in prison.”

Owen chuckles as his shirt hits the bed. “What have they done now?”

My eyes widen even more. “They’re trying to tell me I need three different gowns for the wedding. Three! And they’ve got options for me for all three.”

He frowns as he reaches for the button on his pants. “I thought you were choosing your dress yourself?”

I jab my finger at his pants. “Do not take those off. I will not be able to concentrate on this conversation if you’re naked.”

He removes his hand from his zipper. However, he does the next best thing that could cause me to lose all focus. He comes my way and moves right on into my space. Sliding his arm around my waist, he says, “Charlize, this is your choice. Not theirs. If you want one dress or ten, that’s your decision. Hell, if you want to go naked, I’ll support that too.”

I place my hands to his chest while my chest continues tightening with stress. “Please be serious. I’m trying to tell you how stressed this is all making me.”

His eyes search mine. “I am being serious.”

“No, you’re talking about me turning up to our wedding naked. My mother would have a conniption if I did that. And your mother would probably demand you divorce me for bringing shame on your family.”

His arm around me tightens and he bends his face to brush his lips over mine. “My mother adores you. She’d find a way to be okay with your nakedness once she saw how much I liked it.”

I roll my eyes at him, but I can’t help smiling. Owen always knows the exact right way to help settle my anxiety and stress.

I lightly swat his chest and shake my head at him. “You’re going to help me figure out how to get out of all these gowns. We’re not going hiking tomorrow until we’ve got The Squad under control.” The squad being our mothers.

His brows lift and he gives me a pointed look. “I do believe I was the one who said no to this second wedding, and you were the one who said yes. There’s an easy fix for all of this.”

After he whisked me away to say “I do” in front of the oldest Elvis known to mankind in Vegas in December (quite possibly the real Elvis, although I still haven’t managed to confirm that yet), Owen tried to convince me not to agree to the wedding we had planned for April this year. As far as he was concerned, we were married; we didn’t need to go through with the spectacle (his word, not mine) that he knew our mothers would turn our wedding into. He told me he’d prefer to have an intimate wedding with just our closest friends and family, but I allowed our mothers to talk me into doing it their way. Their way being an extravagant wedding and reception for 500 people at The Plaza Hotel. I mean, I’m almost sure my mother thinks this is one of her galas with the level of commitment she has toward it.

“Ugh,” I mutter. “I can’t do that to them. But seriously, I’m not wearing three different gowns in one day. And if I can’t make them stop hounding me about these gowns, it will be your job to do that.”

He gives me one of his panty-dropping smiles. “I’ve got you. Now”—he slides his hand over my ass and bends his face to press a kiss to my neck—“can we move onto more important things?”

I really want to move onto those things, but I have bad news to break to him. “We’re going to have to take a raincheck.”

His brain is slow to process those words. He continues kissing his way down my neck to my throat and then to my chest, at which point his brain catches up. Lifting his face, he looks at me. “Why?”

“The girls are coming over.”

His brows pull together. “Tonight?”

“Yes.”

“I thought we were planning a quiet night in.”

I give him a pained look. “We were. I’m sorry. I kinda panicked today when I was presented with the three-gown idea. The girls talked me down and decided to come over for our own planning session.”

I would be lost without my girlfriends and the group chat we started when Jessica texted me after the gala where we met. Now, I have her, Poppy, Adeline, Jenna, and Lorelei for daily support through our text group. They’re often the reason I make it through some moments. I love my husband, and he’s always there for me, but at times, a girl needs her girlfriends for the kind of understanding only they can bring to a situation.

Owen’s hand grips my ass harder and he presses my body against his so I can feel his erection. Kissing my neck again, he rasps, “You’re killing me here.”

I thread my fingers into his hair as the raw need I hear in his voice fills my veins. He’s been away for three nights at a conference, and we absolutely did agree to have tonight alone and then to spend the weekend on his boat. Three nights away from each other has felt like three weeks. If Owen had his way, he’d fuck me morning, noon, and night. I mean, I’d be on board with that if he didn’t insist on leaving home at the ungodly hour he does each day, and if I didn’t work and could sneak into his office every day for a lunchtime orgasm.

“I’ll try to encourage them not to stay too long,” I say.

He meets my gaze again, a smile touching his face even if he did just tell me I’m killing him. “We both know that when you girls get together, you’re in for a long conversation.” He brushes his lips over mine one last time before letting me go. “Don’t rush them. I’ve got enough to keep me occupied tonight.”

I watch with regret as he takes all those muscles of his away from me and into the bathroom. I’ve missed him dreadfully while he’s been away. Like, I never knew it was possible to miss someone as much as this. It’s the first time we’ve been apart since the three nights I stayed away when I tried to break up with him last year. I love my job, but I’ve resented it this week while missing Owen. I would have traveled with him if not for work.

My phone sounds with a text as I hear the shower turn on.

Jenna: Beckett just dropped me off. I’m coming up now!

Adeline: I’m on my way and I have Nutella treats. See you soon.

Lorelei: I’m settling in with my morning coffee ready to Zoom with you all.

Jessica: Thank God it’s Saturday here in Sydney. I would hate to miss this due to work.

Poppy: Charles, I’m here.

I leave the bedroom and head out to meet Poppy, finding her sitting at the piano.

“Are you ever going to play that, or do you think you’ll just always stare at it lovingly?” I ask. Poppy has played the piano since she was six, but she never lays a finger on Owen’s piano even though she sits at it often.

She looks up at me before standing. “You’ve told me what Owen has done to you on this piano. I’m never touching it.”

“It’s cleaned regularly. And Jesus, Pop, we didn’t make a mess all over it. Calm down.”

She gives me a look. One that says yeah, no. “Honestly, Charles, I don’t think I can trust you two. You are the girl, after all, who likes to orgasm her way through dinner at fancy restaurants courtesy of her husband’s fingers.”

“I’m never telling you anything ever again.”

Jenna’s voice comes from behind me. “Did I just hear that right?” She comes to stand next to us, eyeing me questioningly. “Owen finger fucks you in public?”

Before I can answer, Poppy says, “Yes. I can list at least five restaurants they’ve done this in now.”

A smile spreads across Jenna’s face. “Go girl. I need to get Beckett in on that kind of thing.”

“I can highly recommend it,” I say. Then, to Poppy, I say, “And don’t try to look all respectable and modest, Pop. We all know that you and your husband are probably the filthiest couple in our circle.”

“I never implied I wasn’t,” she says. “All I said was that there’s no way I’m playing this piano because you and your husband get up to dirty things on it. And you can tell me as much as you want that it’s clean, but I know you two better. You have so much sex that you’ve probably forgotten all the times that sex started on this piano.”

“What have I missed?” Adeline asks, joining us.

My eyes zero in on the bakery bag she’s holding. The one I know contains my drug of choice: Nutella. “Nothing.”

“You’ve missed the fact that Charles and Owen like to get nasty on this piano and in restaurants,” Poppy says. “She’s likely orgasmed right in front of you while at dinner together. And you’ve also missed that Jenna wants in on this style of orgasm. The restaurant one, not the piano one.” She narrows her eyes at Jenna. “Actually, I don’t know that piano fact for sure. But since she and Beckett don’t have a piano, I hope to God that she’s not planning on finding ways to get alone with Beckett and this piano. I can’t be spending time thinking about all the nastiness taking place on it if you all start getting in on this.”

Adeline laughs. “Says the woman who has a lot of filthy sex.”

“I love sex,” Poppy says. “It’s the germs that other people insist on leaving all over the place when they have sex in public that I can’t deal with.”

I catch sight of Owen walking toward us, freshly showered and dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt. His eyes land on me after taking the girls in and he comes to stand next to me. “Are you girls hungry?”

With those four words, my husband causes butterflies in my stomach.

He always cares for me in whatever way I need. And tonight, while I know he’d prefer to have me to himself, he knows I need my girls too.

Adeline holds up her phone and I see Jessica’s face on the screen. I didn’t realize they’d started FaceTiming.

“Owen,” Jessica says, all the way from Australia, “that might be the most useless question of life. Of course, my girls are hungry if you’re cooking. Get your ass in the kitchen.” Owen has cooked dinner for us multiple times over the last few months and everyone agrees that if his hedge fund ever stops making money, he should become a chef.

I lean into him and place my hand to his chest, loving the feel of his hard body as he wraps an arm around me. Being in Owen’s arms is the best place to be. I always feel safe and loved here. “Thank you,” I say softly as the girls chat with Jessica.

He smiles down at me with love before bringing his mouth to my ear and giving me the filth I crave. “Don’t plan on much sleep tonight. You’re going to be on your knees later.”

Holy mother of good girls get on their knees.

With that, he kisses me, lets me go, and saunters that fine ass of his into our kitchen.

I’m still staring after that ass when Adeline says, “Okay, girls, focus. Jenna and I have a dress design to run by you, Charlize. And then, we need to get to work on the dessert menu for your reception. Oh, and Poppy is coming up with signature cocktails for the cocktail hour.”

“The cocktail hour?” I ask. This is news to me.

Poppy’s face fills with determination and that fierce take-charge energy of hers that I love. “Keep up, Charles. If your squad of overbearing mothers are insisting on certain things at the wedding, we’re going to be insisting on things we know you’ll love. Cocktail hour is essential.”

I adore my cousin.

Just like I adore every woman here.

I look at Adeline and Jenna. “You guys want to design my dress?” My heart is overflowing with love right now. Like, I may not be able to keep it all on the inside for much longer.

They both smile at me. “We would be honored to design your dress,” Adeline says.

Before I can move straight into the lovefest I’m feeling, Poppy moves into boss mode. “Right, we need to set up at the dining table. We’ll break for dinner and dessert but that’s it. I want the cocktails and desserts sorted by the time we leave here tonight.”

With that, she strides to the table and begins setting herself up at the head of it. She’s brought her laptop, her iPad, and a large array of brochures and bridal magazines with her.

We’ve been slowly planning the wedding for two months now, but mostly I’ve been letting mine and Owen’s mothers take charge because I haven’t known how to stop them assuming control. As I watch my girls set up at the table with Poppy, I know this is them stepping up to help me do that.

The day I met Owen changed my life in more ways than one.

It not only gave me the man I will spend the rest of my days with, but it also gave me all these wonderful women and the beautiful friendships we now have.

CHAPTER TWO

CHARLIZE

February 25

Poppy: Charles, I’ve just decided we need a Spotify playlist for while we’re getting ready on the day of your wedding. You need to start thinking about songs you want on it.

Charlize: OMG I LOVE THIS IDEA!

Poppy: I’m adding “Marry You” by Bruno Mars.

Jenna: OH, we need “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran on there!

Jessica: “True” by Spandau Ballet.

Lorelei: “A Thousand Years” by Christina Perri has to be on there!

Adeline: “Home” by Michael Bublé.

Poppy: Ah, Addy, is that song more for you at the moment than Charles’s wedding day?

Adeline: Ugh. Yes. I’m tired of being away from Jameson this year. Between my trips to London and his trips for work, I just want us to be home together more.

Lorelei: Do you see an end in sight any time soon?

Adeline: No. Except maybe, because he’s growing frustrated with it too, and I expect him to try and put his foot down any day now. Anyway, just ignore me. I’m tired and grumpy. And this is about Charlize, not me.

Charlize: No, we’re not ignoring you, Addy. This chat group is for all of us to support each other. Do you need some girl time this weekend?

Adeline: OMG I do! Jameson is away until Sunday and I’d love to spend tomorrow with you girls.

Jessica: Jack and I are leaving LA tonight instead of tomorrow night, so I can make it tomorrow.

Lorelei: I need to move to the States. I miss out on everything :(

Jenna: We will Zoom you in!

Poppy: Okay, this is good. We can work on the playlist tomorrow. And we also need to finalize the desserts. Honestly, I’m unsure why it’s taking so long to narrow the selections.

I LAUGH AT MY COUSIN. She’s nothing if not focused at all times.

Charlize: I love you, Pop.

Jenna: LOL. Poppy, it’s because the desserts are what truly matter! You know my suggestion has always been not to bother narrowing but rather to just have them all.

Charlize: I’m coming around to that idea.

Poppy: The logistics of that are a lot, Charles. What are Owen’s thoughts on that many desserts?

Charlize: Owen has no thoughts.

Poppy: You haven’t told him you want twenty-two desserts, have you?

Charlize: No, there’s never time to talk about it.

Poppy: If you’d stop putting his dick in your mouth, you’d have plenty of time to talk about it.

Charlize: I can assure you that Owen would prefer me to suck his dick than ask him his thoughts on how many desserts we should serve.

Jenna: Twenty-two desserts it is!!!

Adeline: Okay, so we’ll have a spa day tomorrow and figure out this playlist. And maybe try to narrow the desserts. Or not. I fully support twenty-two desserts.

Adeline: Oh, Charlize, we need to schedule a dress fitting. Not next week because I’ll be in London, but the week after would be good. I think that works for Jenna too.

Jenna: Yes, but does that work for you, Poppy?

Poppy: Any day that week but Tuesday. Seth and I have our first salsa dance lesson that night.

Adeline: I truly need to learn your ways, Poppy. There is no way Jameson would ever agree to take a dance class with me.

Charlize: You should ask him. He might surprise you.

Adeline: Or, more likely, he’ll look at me like I’ve lost my mind.

Poppy: Okay, girls, I have to go. Seth is giving me the eye. Let me know the plans for tomorrow. I’ll be there.

Charlize: I have to go too. Owen is not giving me the eye, but I’m thinking I might sit at the piano and give him the eye, Pop.

Poppy: I am never sitting at that piano again.

CHAPTER THREE

March 10th

@thetea_gasp

Girlfriend, you know we’re on constant #cowen watch over here at The Tea, and can we just tell you that we spotted @charlizenorth with @adelinespencer and @jennapearce yesterday, and girl *heart eyes* we’re almost certain that @adelineandpearce are designing Charlize’s wedding dress! We’re low-key freaking out over here about this because Adeline + Pearce haven’t ventured into the wedding scene yet, and we are so down with them doing that. A dress designed by them for your big day would be fire, amirite? We’re gonna start brainstorming our predictions for the dress of the year. BRB with those. Of course, it’ll take a lot to remove the spotlight from that ring #owennorth put on her finger last year. The emerald-cut diamond bauble is rumored to have set our fave billionaire back $5M. Like, where do we find ourselves an Owen? He honestly just hits different, and we are here for all of it. #staytuned for our next update.

CHAPTER FOUR

CHARLIZE

April 1st

Poppy: Charles, we haven’t discussed your letter to Owen yet.

Charlize: What letter?

Poppy: The wedding letter. Honestly, how do you not know what I’m talking about? We’re 29 days out from the wedding. Surely, you’re already working on it.

Charlize: Jesus, Pop, I’m dealing with The Squad and all their demands. I haven’t had time to contemplate the letter yet.

Jessica: I didn’t write Jack a letter. I don’t think it’s a non-negotiable.

Poppy: It’s absolutely a non-negotiable.

Adeline: I didn’t write one for Jameson.

Jenna: Well, considering you hated him when you married him, that makes sense.

Adeline: True.

Jenna: Do you think you guys will ever renew your vows?

Poppy: What?

Lorelei: Ah, can we just go back to that bit about hating him when you married him???

Jessica: Did I read that right?

Charlize: OMG WAIT JUST ONE SECOND, ADELINE. WHAT????????

Charlize: I just spat the drink I’m not drinking.

Charlize: I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHAT’S HAPPENING RN.

Adeline: LOL. Charlize, I never told you because when we met, you made it clear you never want to know secrets since you’re so bad at keeping them.

Poppy: Told her what?? And can I just say, I am one hundred at keeping secrets. You should never not tell me anything. I do agree to keep them from Charles, though, because she is the worst secret keeper of life.

Lorelei: I am also good at keeping secrets. Spill.

Adeline: Jameson and I hated each other when we married. I only married him so I could get my company back. It was just supposed to be for a year. It’s a long story and I promise to tell you everything over drinks tomorrow night.

Charlize: MIND. BLOWN.

Poppy: I am speechless, and nothing makes me speechless. I am also allowing extra time for drinks tomorrow because I anticipate we will need that time to debrief.

Lorelei: WOW. This is a story your children will love!

Jessica: Not much surprises me anymore, but consider me surprised.

Charlize: Fuck, now I have to keep this a secret! Gah!

Jenna: LOL, someone tape her mouth!

Poppy: I wouldn’t bother. Owen is always putting things in that mouth. The tape won’t stay on long.

Poppy: Also, now, can we please get back to this letter, Charles. Do you need me to help you with it?

Charlize: No, I need you to call The Squad off. This week alone, they’ve presented me with new suggestions for the menu, twenty ideas for my reception dress even though they know I already have it sorted, new options for my shoes, and have argued with me over the cake. They’ve also decreed that I can’t wear my hair down.

Poppy: Decreed. Very married-woman language, Charles. I approve.

Charlize: POPPY! Focus! The Squad is at risk of death here.

Poppy: No one is dying on my watch. When is your next meeting with them?

Charlize: Tomorrow morning at ten.

Poppy: I’ll be there.

Jenna: I can come if you need extra support.

Adeline: Count me in as well.

Lorelei: Me, too.

Jessica: You know I’d be there if I was in NY atm.

Adeline: We’ve got you, Charlize. Always.

Charlize: I love you guys. Thank you <3

Poppy: I had a random thought last night, Charles. Do you and Owen have sex on your dining table?

Jessica: LOL, the table where all the gala girl meetings take place?

Charlize: I’m pleading the Fifth, Pop.

Poppy: I knew it. Jesus.

CHAPTER FIVE

CHARLIZE

April 29th

WHOEVER SAID your wedding day is the happiest day of your life, didn’t have to endure four months of The Squad.

I love my mother and I adore Owen’s mother, but holy mother of too much.

“We are never divorcing,” I say to Owen as I follow him into the bedroom of the Grand Penthouse suite of The Plaza hotel the night before our wedding.

He doesn’t even stop at what I’ve said. He continues striding into the room, throwing over his shoulder, “That was never an option.”

“No, I’m being serious, Owen.” I place my purse on the bed as he walks into the bathroom. “Don’t ever come to me and tell me you want a divorce because I will never agree to one.”

He walks back into the bedroom, a determined look on his face. “And I was being deadly serious when I said divorce was never an option.” He pauses. “What’s caused you to bring this up?”

I hold my cell phone up to him, showing him the texts from our mothers. “This! Honestly, they will be the death of me. We’re getting married tomorrow. Tomorrow! And they’re still trying to get me to change my mind about my dress. Like, do they just have replacement dresses on hand? I’m staying married to you forever to make the four months of Squad hell count.” My eyes go wide. “I think I’m going to throw my phone away. If you need to contact me before the wedding, you’ll have to go through Poppy.”

Poppy is staying with me in this suite tonight while Owen stays in the King Penthouse Suite. We’ve just arrived back after dinner with everyone and I’m almost regretting our decision to spend tonight apart. I’m feeling all kinds of anxious thanks to The Squad and their unrelenting demands. I think I need Owen with me tonight.

Owen comes to me and pulls me into his arms. “I know the last four months have been a lot for you, and I’m sorry that all landed on your shoulders.” He bends his face to mine and kisses me. “We’re almost there.”

I grip his shirt. “I know, but what will come after the wedding?”

He frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Honestly, you men are so clueless sometimes. My prediction is they’ll start hounding us for children starting tomorrow.”

“We’ll be in Australia soon. Far away from their hounding.”

“I repeat, clueless. You don’t seriously think a million miles between us will stop them from finding ways to harass us, do you?”

He chuckles and brushes his lips over mine again. Then, turning more serious, he says, “I’ll make it clear that we’re done with the hounding.”

“You better or I may just stop getting on my knees for you.”

Heat flares in his eyes and I am sure I see his brain figuring out how to score a blowjob while Poppy is downstairs in the penthouse waiting for us.

I let his shirt go and step away from him. “Stop thinking about my lips around your dick. It’s not happening tonight.”

“Fuck,” he rasps. “The next time you talk me into things after giving me a blowjob, I’m not listening.”

He’s right, I did talk him into us not staying together tonight after I blew him.

Our mothers were horrified that we planned a dinner with our family and friends tonight, and when I mentioned us staying together, they lost their cool completely. They’re both big believers in the groom not seeing the bride the night before the wedding. Somehow, they got me to agree to stay apart, which meant I then had to find a way to get Owen to agree. Blowjobs for the win, always.

“Baby,” I say, “let’s be real. I could talk you into giving me the world after I blow you.”

“You could talk me into that without the blowjob, Charlize.” And just like that, those blue eyes of his flare with far more than heat. They flare with all the love in the world.

As butterflies take over my stomach, I say, “I love you.”

Keeping his eyes firmly on mine, he says, “I love you too and if you need me to walk through Squad hell while our mothers hound you for anything, I will. I know it sounds like I’m brushing your concerns aside, but you should know I’m always listening to everything you say, and always taking it all seriously. I’m the only husband you’re ever going to have, and I will always show up for you.”

My arms are around him and my lips are on his before he even knows what’s happening. But in true Owen style, he goes with my flow and kisses me back with as much love as I’m kissing him with.

This man.

I know he always listens to me.

I know he always takes me seriously.

And I more than know he will always show up for me.

He’s proven that from the day we met, and not a moment has gone by since then that I haven’t felt every ounce of his commitment.

“I love you so much, Owen,” I say breathlessly when I finally drag my lips from his. “And I will always show up for you too.”

He kisses me again and I feel his reluctance to let me go. His reluctance to leave.

Ending the kiss, I smile at him. “You have to go.”

“I know.”

My smile grows bigger when he doesn’t do a thing about leaving. “Am I going to have to carry all those muscles of yours out of here?”

“I’d like to see that.”

“I do yoga, you know. I think I could lift you.”

He chuckles and gives me one last kiss before finally removing his body from mine. “Don’t be late tomorrow.”

I fake gasp. “Me? Late? I’m offended.”

“I’m not above coming up here and carrying you down to our wedding if I have to.”

“Oh, that sounds like fun. And something I think I’d love The Squad to witness. I see a lot of conniptions in my mother’s future if I proceed with that option.”

His eyes fill with amusement. “You are the very best kind of trouble, Mrs. North.”

I walk him out, wishing with everything in me that I didn’t have to let him leave.

There’s no way I’ll be late to our wedding tomorrow.

Not when becoming Mrs. North for the second time is my greatest priority in life.

CHAPTER SIX

CHARLIZE

April 30th

“OKAY, who added this song to our playlist?” Jessica asks just after noon on the day of my wedding as we’re all getting ready. “Because I approve.”

I laugh as I listen to “Like a Virgin” by Madonna. I take a sip of my Mimosa and say, “My guess is Poppy.”

Poppy eyes me from where she’s sitting getting her hair done. “Good guess. You know I adore this song.”

Jenna glances at Poppy’s phone that’s got our playlist on it. “Ooh, “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” is up next.”

“Cheers to that,” Lorelei says, holding her glass up to toast. She smiles at me. “I’m so happy to be here today, Charlize, and to see you and Owen get married. Thank you for asking me to be one of your bridesmaids. I’ve loved everything about the last few months with you girls. I’ve never had a group of girlfriends like you guys.”

I move to her and hug her. Then, keeping hold of her, I lean back and assess her. “I’m so glad you’re here, and I’ve loved the last few months with you guys too, but how many Mimosas have you had, girl? You’re being extra gushy right now.”

She laughs as Jessica takes her drink away. “I’ve only had two, but maybe they’ve gone straight to my head because I am feeling quite emotional.”

Adeline smiles. “It’s probably a combination of the alcohol and the fact we’re getting ready for a wedding. I always feel emotional at weddings, even when I barely know the person.”

“Same,” Jenna says. “There’s just something about watching two people so in love.”

I glance around these women and know they all own my heart almost as much as Owen does.

As a wave of unexpected affection and love washes over me, I say, “I used to dislike weddings, but I love my weddings, especially this one because you girls are in it. Thank you for being my girls. I love you all.”

Poppy narrows her eyes at me. “Okay, Charles, I’ve only counted one Mimosa for you so far, which makes me wonder if Owen snuck in here and did filthy things to you while we weren’t watching. I can’t think of any other reason why you’d be gushing all over the place about loving weddings.”

I grin at my cousin. “I love the way you love me, Pop. Keeping tabs on my drinks and my sex life.”

“Well, someone has to keep tabs on you. Goodness knows you’d get yourself into all kinds of trouble without me by your side.”

We’re interrupted by my mother who walks into the living room and declares, “Right, Charlize, it’s time for your hair to be done.” She looks around the room, taking in the party we’re having while getting ready. Poppy has filled the suite with flowers, and sparkle, and music. Not to mention drinks and all my favorite snacks including Nutella treats. We’ve got hair and beauty products scattered everywhere, along with shoes and bags and other belongings. Mom’s lips press together, but she doesn’t mention any of the chaos that I just know she is far from enjoying. Instead, she says, “I think we’re running on time, which is a relief.”

I smile at her, feeling calmer than I ever imagined I would today. “I love you, Mom.”

She looks at me with an expression that tells me I’ve caught her off guard. “I love you too, Charlize, but please hurry and get your hair done.”

My smile grows as I walk to her. Wrapping my arms around her, I say, “I will, but first, I want to thank you for everything you’ve done to help me plan this wedding. I appreciate all of it.” And I do, because right now I’m feeling happy and loved up, which means that four months of The Squad is almost forgotten. Now, I’m grateful for everything happening today, and a lot of that is thanks to what Mom and Owen’s mother helped organize.

Mom isn’t a hugger, and I can’t recall the last time we embraced like this, so she’s stiff in my arms at first. And then, something happens that hasn’t happened since I was a child. She puts her arms around me and hugs me back. A real, genuine hug. When she lets me go, she says, “I know you think Mary and I have been difficult and overbearing, but that’s only because we want this day to be special for you and Owen.”

Tears fill my eyes unexpectedly.

I’ve wanted this kind of connection with my mother my entire life, so this hug and these words mean everything to me.

“I know, Mom.”

She squeezes my hand, her features soft for another moment. Then, she’s all business again. “Okay, you really must go and get your hair done now.”

As I make my way to where the hairdresser is waiting for me, I think about the relationship between mothers and daughters, and about how intricate and complex that relationship has been for Mom and me.

Our relationship can be the biggest contradiction of life, within the space of an hour some days. And while she can frustrate me like no other at the best of times, I know I never want to live without her in my life. It makes me wonder about what a relationship with a daughter would look like for me if I’m lucky enough to have a daughter one day.

I pull out my phone and send Owen a text.

Charlize: I want a daughter, so if you only produce sons, we may have a problem.

I’m halfway through getting my hair done when he replies.

Owen: Do you have a name you like?

Charlize: Dakota.

Owen: I like that.

Charlize: Do you think being a mother will be hard?

Owen: Yes, but I have no doubt you’ll be the very best kind of mother. One who loves and cherishes at all times, and who teaches her child everything they need to grow into a good human.

Charlize: OMG Owen, we must not text while I’m getting my make-up done or after. You’re making me cry here.

Owen: Got it. No crying.

Owen: Tell me your dress isn’t fitted from the waist down.

Charlize: I like where your filthy mind is going with this, but I’m not telling you anything. I’m preserving your first look so that you stare at me in complete surprise.

Charlize: Oh, I have to go. But I want to tell you that I know you’ll be the most amazing father, and I can’t wait to build a family with you.

Charlize: Although, not straight away, ‘k? I need a lot of Owen time first because I’m pretty sure that once we start having babies, my knees are going to be too tired to get on very often.

Owen: We can afford the very best medical care for your knees. It’s a lifelong commitment I am more than happy to make.

“Charles,” Poppy says sharply, drawing my attention from my husband. “We’re on a tight schedule here.” She reaches for my phone, taking it from me. “No more texting Owen. He’s too much of a distraction.”

I pull a face at her. “Calm down, Pop. The wedding isn’t until three. We have plenty of time.”

“We do not,” she says, confusing me because we really do have plenty of time.

I don’t argue with her, though. That would be a waste of my breath. When Poppy’s on a mission, no one can shift her from it.

The next hour rushes by in a blur of hair, make-up, another Mimosa with the girls, and then Mom, Mary, and Poppy getting me dressed. Poppy is like a commander with the way she makes all this happen way before it needs to.

“Pop,” I mutter as she drags me from the bedroom once I’m ready. “Why am I ready so early? Are we taking photos or something that I’m unaware of?”

“Honestly, Charles, in our next life you won’t argue with me over anything. You’ll just do everything I tell you to do.”

She leads me down the stairs to the bottom floor of the penthouse, past the girls who don’t seem fazed by what’s happening at all, and to the door.

“Where are we going?” I demand as she opens the door to exit the suite.

She practically pushes me out into the corridor. “We’re having photos taken. Stop arguing with me.”

“Oh my God, Poppy, why didn’t you just say? I love this so much.”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

I catch her hand as she attempts to lead me down the hallway. “Thank you for being the best cousin.” I finally manage to get her to stop and look at me. “I could not have gotten through all this wedding planning without you. I love you, but I just can’t promise to never argue with you in our next life.”

She blinks repeatedly. “Stop talking. You’re going to make me cry and I cannot cry before the wedding.”

I hug her, squeezing her tightly. I hold her for the longest time, my arms doing all the speaking that she won’t allow. Then, with one last squeeze, I let her go and say, “Okay, take me to the photographer.”

She walks me down the hall, knocking on a door and waiting to be let in. I’m confused as to why she didn’t bring the photographer to our suite, but I don’t dare question her.

When the door opens, we’re greeted by Owen’s best friend, Bradford.

“Charlize.” He gestures for me to enter. “Come in.”

I frown. “We’re having photos with you?”

His lips pull up at the end. “No. I’m just here for the show.”

I frown some more, but I enter the suite. It’s as ornate as mine, with wood-paneled luxury, opulent furniture, and gold gilding throughout. I walk past an elegant powder room and a small sitting room before entering the larger living room where Owen is standing.

When I see him, I swear my heart stops.

And then it starts up again, a kaleidoscope of butterflies joining it.

Owen is wearing a tuxedo, and while I’ve seen him in an array of suits, I’ve never seen him look as handsome as he does today.

We stand in silence, looking at each other while my heart beats all over the place. I think it’s maybe trying to beat its way over to him.

It’s only when Owen comes toward me that I realize we’re not alone. There’s a woman here with us taking photos.

I’m distracted from her when Owen moves into me, slides his arm around my waist, and says, “You look beautiful.” His eyes are glued to mine while he says this, and they stay glued there for a few more moments, but then they’re all over my body as he takes in my dress. A curse falls softly from his lips, right before he brings his mouth to my ear and murmurs, “I fucking love this red ribbon.”

My smile reaches my toes.

My dress has a beaded lace bodice with a deep scalloped V-neckline that meets a multi-layered tulle skirt. It’s an open-backed gown with a short train that makes me feel like a princess. Around the waist is a red ribbon that ties at the back in a long bow.

I place my hands to Owen’s chest as the photographer continues taking photos, though I barely register her presence because my husband is the only person I’m aware of in this moment. “The skirt isn’t fitted.”

He smiles and I feel that smile everywhere. “I see that.”

We turn silent for a few moments.

Moments I’m cherishing.

“Are we having photos taken alone? Or is the bridal party joining us?” I ask.

His eyes trace every inch of my face before coming back to meet my gaze. “It’s just us for the next hour.” When my brows pull together, confused, he says, “I wanted the First Look with just you, sweetheart. I wanted to take my time. And I wanted this hour alone before you were bombarded with 500 people who I’ll fight with to get your attention.”

His words melt my heart even more than he has melted it since we met.

“How do you know about First Looks?”

“Poppy told me about the concept.”

This is just another reason to love my cousin.

I smile at him. “I love you, Owen North. And now you should hurry up and kiss me.”

His arm tightens around me, and he murmurs, “Always managing me,” before giving me his lips exactly how I want them.

We kiss for a long time.

I mean, I’m so lost in our kiss that I’m ready to skip the wedding and spend the rest of the day with my husband.

Thank goodness Owen hasn’t completely lost his mind the way I have. He ends the kiss and says, “We’ve got some photos to take.”

We spend fifteen minutes taking photos. The photographer then leaves us, at which point Owen sits on the sofa and pulls me onto his lap.

“If you ruin my dress, my hair, or my make-up, you will have The Squad to deal with,” I say sternly.

He grins. “I’m aware.”

I relax into him. “I love our wedding day so much.”

“Good,” he says. “I have something that might make you love it even more.” He reaches for a shoe box sitting on the sofa next to us and hands it to me.

“You bought me shoes?”

“Open it and see.”

I love gifts, especially from Owen, and absolutely love the sparkly silver sneakers in this box. “Oh my God, Owen, you got me sneakers!” I look at him, giddy with joy. “How did you know I would die if I had to survive in the shoes our mothers forced me into wearing?”

He chuckles, looking at me with so much love and adoration. “I may have sat through more than one speech about the dangers of heels with you. And I figured you had no hope of getting The Squad to agree to sneakers, so I thought we could switch them out now and they’ll never know.”

“I would let you put your dick in my mouth if I wasn’t worried you’d get my face and dress all dirty.”

“Fuck,” he growls as he brings his mouth to mine and kisses me. This kiss isn’t as sweet as our other kiss. This one shows me just how much he wants me right now.

I’m breathless when we come up for air and so is Owen. “That ribbon is being put to better use tonight,” he says, his voice as rough as his kiss. “Right after you spend some time on your knees.”

Holy mother of why is the wedding not over already?

Owen helps me change my shoes and then reaches into his jacket to retrieve two envelopes. I recognize one of them as mine. The one containing my wedding letter that I wrote him this morning. “I thought we could read our letters together.”

His suggestion slows all my thoughts down and speeds my love all the way up. “I’m guessing Poppy somehow stole my letter and snuck it to you while I wasn’t watching today.”

“She did.”

These two.

I adore them both for loving me so much that they’ve conspired to make today the happiest day of my life. “How did I ever get so lucky to find you?”

“I would argue that I found you.”

I kiss him. “I’m so glad Poppy married Seth. We may not have met otherwise.”

“Says the woman who believes in fate.”

“It’s a thing.”

He kisses me again. “You don’t have to convince me anymore.” He hands me his envelope. “I love you, Charlize, and the words in here don’t do that love justice. I’m the luckiest man alive to have you by my side.”

Okay, so whoever said your wedding day is the happiest day of your life was right.

I never want this day to end.

I open the envelope and read Owen’s letter.

Dear Charlize,

I fell in love with you the night I met you. I had never met a woman like you, and I knew you were one of a kind. Your beauty captivated me, but it was your soul that owned me by the end of that night. I love your sparkle, your smile, your laugh. I love the way you accept me how I am. I love how you love.

Today will fly by faster than we can imagine. My wish is for us to find the moments in it together. I want to dance with you. I want to watch you eat all twenty-two desserts. I want to hide in a corner at some point and kiss you until you’re breathless and blushing.

I promise to love you every day for the rest of my life. Through the good. Through the hard. Through everything. I promise to always be the man you need me to be.

I also promise to handle The Squad from here on out. And to take care of your knees for life.

Thank you for making me the happiest man in the world.

Love,

Owen

I look at him after I finish reading. “You are officially the worst husband of life,” I say through my tears. Then, with wide eyes, I say, “You’ve ruined my make-up.”

“The good news is that you have someone who can fix it.”

“I hope you know this means I’m going to be late to our wedding.”

“There’s no way you were ever going to be on time. You forget I’m the man who sits around waiting for you every time we go out.”

“Take that back.”

He pulls me in for a kiss, taking my breath, my heart, and my soul right alongside that kiss. “I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

“I’m not sure that’s true.”

“Okay, so maybe you could be ready on time every now and then.”

I point at my letter. “It’s your turn to read.”

He opens the envelope and reads the letter that I could recite by heart.

Dear Owen,

Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done in my life. Being loved by you is the best thing I’ve ever experienced in my life. And while I know that not every moment of our life together will be as easy or as good as all the ones we’ve had so far, I know there isn’t another person alive I would choose to spend them with.

You are the best man I know. You love with everything in you and treat me like a queen. Even though I’m a mermaid. But that’s the thing about you – you see me in ways I’ve never seen myself. You help me love myself more by loving me unconditionally. Thank you for never trying to change me, for cherishing me, for seeing me.

I’m sitting here this morning thinking about the day ahead and our life that we get to spend together. I’m thinking about every moment we’ve taken to get here and about how you’ve always known exactly what I needed in those moments. From the very first night we met, even when you didn’t know me at all, you’ve known what I needed. It means everything to me to know I’ll have you by my side for the rest of my life, because you’re the man who has taken the time to dig deep with me, to get naked with me, to figure out how to love me in the ways I need to be loved.

I’m glad we agreed last night that we will stay married for life. I mean, there are so many bad movies we still have to watch together, so many discussions we still need to have to get to the bottom of whether Elvis really is dead, so many Nutella treats for you to find for me, so much hiking still to be done, and so many ribbons for me to tease you with. Let’s agree now for you to end your love affair with buttons, though. They must go. Seriously, Owen, I can’t survive the rest of my life with you if buttons are going to continue being a thing.

Also, I’m still holding you to the top Elvis package with three songs and sunglasses for our next wedding. The “Burning Love” package won’t cut it next time.

I can’t wait to love you forever, my love.

Love,

Charlize

Owen has barely finished reading when he’s got his fingers in my hair and his mouth on mine. His kiss doesn’t hold anything back. It’s almost indecent, and I’m fairly certain I’m not only going to need my make-up fixed, but I’ll probably need a hair touch up, too.

When he finally lets me end the kiss, I breathe out, “I love you, Owen.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart.” He removes his hands from my body, the expression on his face telling me how difficult that was for him. “You need to go because if you don’t, there’s not going to be a wedding.”

I cling to our time together for one more moment. “Maybe we could send a text to Poppy and tell her to let everyone know there’s not going to be a wedding but that they can party without us.”

“Charlize,” he growls.

Holy mother of growly growls.

“Okay, I’m going, but when we get to the end of the night and I’m too tired to be your good girl, you need to remember it was you who refused to cancel the wedding.”

I move off his lap.

I gather myself.

And I go back to my suite.

The Squad are far from impressed with my appearance when I return, but my girls all give me looks that say Go girl.

If only The Squad knew about my sneakers.

They would die.

Me, though, I only fell in love with my husband more for giving them to me.

I really am going to love that man for life.

It takes twenty minutes to fix my hair and make-up at which point we all exit the suite and head for the elevator.

My father meets us downstairs outside the Terrace Room. He looks at me with love, and as he takes my arm, he says, “You look beautiful, Charlize.”

Our relationship has changed so much over the last six months and it’s all thanks to Owen. Dad has started spending more time with our family and less time at work. It hasn’t been sudden, but rather he’s slowly made changes. Last week, he pulled me aside and told me he’s taking Mom away for three weeks to travel through Europe. He told me that watching Owen make changes to the way he works has inspired him to do the same. And while I don’t expect him to make dramatic changes, just the few he has made are everything.

I smile at him. “Thank you, Dad.”

He returns my smile. “Let’s get you married.”

The Terrace Room is exquisite. It’s opulent with its Italian Renaissance-style paintings that adorn the ceiling, crystal chandeliers made by Charles Winston, large columns, and gold throughout.

The doors open to the room and “Canon in D” starts playing. I chose this to walk down the aisle to and Mom found some of the best musicians to play it for me. As my bridesmaids walk ahead of me and my Dad, I tear up listening to the violins.

Oh, goodness.

I blink rapidly trying to stop the tears from falling.

Dad squeezes my hand and leans in close. “I couldn’t have chosen a better man for you than Owen. It makes me happy to see you happy.”

I squeeze his hand back as I meet his gaze. “Okay, Dad, you can’t say another word to me, or I will start bawling like a baby.”

He honors my wish, but the look in his eyes is almost enough to cause my tears to fall. I’ve never seen my father look at me with such love and tenderness.

I take a deep breath and focus back on Poppy who has just started walking down the aisle. I look past her and see Owen waiting for me.

I take another deep breath, but I don’t really need it.

Not now that I’ve seen Owen.

“Are you ready?” Dad asks.

I smile at him and nod.

And then I take the first step toward the rest of my life.

This short story features characters from Nina’s Escape with a Billionaire series that is complete and ready to binge. Each book in the series is a standalone. Charlize & Owen are from the book Owen North. You can find all the book links here.

About the Author

Nina Levine is a USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestselling author of over thirty books, including the bestselling Escape with A Billionaire series and Storm MC series. She’s known for bossy alphas and women who don’t hand their hearts over easily.

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PROMISING FOREVER

PATRICIA EDDY

CHAPTER ONE

DAX

“DARLIN’?” The tip of my cane finds the small bench by the front door. Folding it up, I lay it next to my keys and briefcase on the nearby table, then toe off my shoes and slide them underneath. A diffuse glow from the hall lights fades into nothingness. Kitchen, living room, Evianna’s office…all dark.

“Upstairs!” she calls.

Guilt slows my steps. Most days, being the boss means I can walk out the door at six and be home for dinner. But Ford is off this week, so I have to handle all the new client meetings—and resulting paperwork—alone.

Feeling for the railing, I force out a slow breath. After six years without my sight, I should be steadier. Most days, I am. But today…

Halfway up, I catch my toe on a step, but my grip on the railing stops me from face planting into the hardwood. Fuck. I’m tapped out for the day. I need Evianna in my arms and a solid six hours where the nightmares don’t find me.

In the soft light from the bedside lamp, I can just make out her brown hair. And a flash from her tablet screen.

“You still have work to do?” I ask as I start to unbutton my dress shirt.

“Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow.”

After a beat, she’s moving toward me, and fuck, I wish I could see her face. The love of my life. My fiancee. And I have no idea what she looks like.

“What happened today? You’re exhausted…” Wrapping her arms around me, she rests her head on my shoulder. Freesia wafts over me, my favorite scent in the world.

“Had one potential client walk out the moment he figured out I was blind. Then Ford called. Joey’s really goin’ through a bad patch. He won’t be back until next week.”

Evianna holds me tighter. “I wish there was something I could do to help.”

With a sigh, I run my fingers through her hair. “She told her family about all the years she self-harmed. They didn’t take it well.” Sinking down onto the bed, I wait for her to join me. “Ford doesn’t know what to do for her besides drive her to her therapy appointments and run interference with her mother who wants to bubble wrap Joey for the rest of her natural life.”

“To be fair, I think all moms want that.” Her voice takes on the hint of a smile. “You should have seen mine when I introduced her to Tank this afternoon.”

I chuckle. “Tell me she ogled him.” The newest member of Second Sight, a former Army Ranger people tell me could body double for Idris Elba, is still guarding Evianna every day, though there’s been no sign of danger for months.

“Of course, she did. But the look in her eyes when she asked why I still needed him…” Shifting so she’s behind me, Evianna eases the shirt from my shoulders and runs her hands over my scarred back and down to my waist. “At least she’s met you enough times to know how overprotective you are.”

“I’m not over-protective. I’m cautious.” The bullet wound to my side healed quickly, but I still remember everything about the night I almost lost her. If I thought I could get away with it, I’d have Tank shadow her for the rest of her life.

Though I can’t see her roll her eyes, her sigh is a big enough hint.

“Darlin’, you’re my everything.” I twist so I can cup the back of her neck and pull her in for a hard kiss. “After Christmas, I’ll promote him to a junior associate. Until then, he’s your shadow.”

After another sigh, she asks, “Will tomorrow be better? I’m worried about you, Dax. I haven’t seen you this exhausted since…that night.”

I drop my head into my hands, unwilling to let her see the strain on my face. “Doubtful. Meeting with our accountant is going to take up most of my afternoon.” The very idea of spending that long in a conference room with the optical character recognition built into my glasses reading me spreadsheets brings my headache back with a vengeance.

Evianna digs her knuckles into a tight knot along my shoulder blade. “But Elizabeth’s great, isn’t she? You and Ford raved about her last quarter.”

“Bennett Accounting is the best in Boston. Maybe on the whole East Coast. But that doesn’t make ‘seeing’ the numbers any easier.” Groaning as Evianna finds another tension point, I lean back against her. “How do you always know right where…”

“Almost three months of exploring every inch of you,” she whispers. Her lips brush my ear, and all my exhaustion disappears in an instant.

Three months. She’s only been in my life for three months. Yet in that short time, we’ve gone from strangers to…everything.

“What are you wearing, darlin’?” I ask as I turn, wrap my arms around her, and pull her down on top of me. Soft, familiar material rumples under my fingers.

“One of your t-shirts.”

Sliding my hands lower, I find lace panties. “And?”

Her husky laugh sends my dick rocketing to attention. “I think you can figure that out for yourself, soldier.”

Tight nipples press to my bare chest through the cotton. Evianna slants her mouth over mine, and I’m home. Tracing the seam of her lips, I wait for her to part for me, for her tongue to tangle with mine. The little moan she makes as I roll one hard nub between my fingers is the second sweetest sound in the world—second only to her telling me she loves me.

Flipping our positions, I straddle her. For a single moment, fear takes over. It doesn’t matter that I’ve never seen her. I know she’s beautiful. But more of my skin is scarred than not.

But when she reaches up and removes my tinted glasses, I can suddenly breathe again. “There you are.” Her palm against my cheek eases my headache back to a bearable level. “Is it too bright?”

With a gentle shake of my head, I fumble for my belt. My damaged eyes can only discern light and shadow, muted colors, limited movement. But I don’t need to see to worship her body.

“Pants. Off. Now.” She writhes under me, the scent of her arousal making my dick throb painfully against my briefs. I scramble off the bed, shuck the rest of my clothes, and stand naked before her. “That’s more like it.”

A black blur sails to the foot of the bed—my t-shirt—and I reach for her. As soon as I cup her breast, she shudders. “God, yes. I’ve been dreaming of this—of you—all night.”

“Of…this?” Replacing my fingers with my mouth, I suck on her nipple until it stands at attention for me. Turning my focus to the other breast, I fit myself to her side. But before I can draw the blankets over us, she grabs my wrist.

“Dax, don’t hide from me.”

How does she always know when my insecurities take over?

Tracing one of the deeper scars across my chest, she follows it down to my abs. Over each muscle. All the way to my dick. Her touch threatens to undo me. Hardly a day goes by we don’t enjoy one another, and I still feel like a teenager whenever I’m with her.

“One day, you’ll believe me,” she whispers against my lips. “I love you. Scars and all.”

I slide lower until I’m between her thighs. My first taste sends a tiny shudder running through her body. Every stroke of my tongue against the tiny bundle of nerves at her center drives her closer to the edge, and when she digs her heels into the mattress, I know she’s close.

“Dax, please…”

The emotion in her voice mirrors my own. It’s not just sex. Not even making love. This is our forever.

Her folds are sweet as honey and though I can’t see her face, I don’t have to. For this one moment, I can just feel. The softness of her skin. The way her muscles quiver. The scent of her arousal.

Gently scraping my teeth along her clit, I hold on to her legs as her climax takes over. Her inner walls clench, sending her arousal flooding me. I could live off her taste, her kisses, the way she trusts me for the rest of my life and never need a damn thing.

EVIANNA

WHEN I CAN THINK AGAIN, Dax is kissing me gently, and I taste my release on his lips. Before he came into my life, I hadn’t been kissed in years. I spent every moment focused on my career. Building Beacon Hill Technologies into the premiere digital home assistant company in the world took such intense dedication, I didn’t make time for anything but work and seeing my mom.

“You back with me?” he asks.

I blink up at him. Despite knowing he can’t see my face in any detail, when he looks at me, I feel like he’s staring right into my soul. “I’m always with you, Dax. Even when we’re apart.” I press my hand to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. “Right here.”

His eyes shimmer for a brief moment until he swallows hard. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, darlin’. I wish I had the words to tell you what you mean to me.”

Pushing him gently onto his back, I slide my hand lower, my fingers brushing against his hard length. “I don’t need the perfect words, baby. I just need you.”

A drop of precum slicks my palm, and I stroke up and down his shaft until he’s panting. “Fuck. Need to be inside you. Now.”

I groan as he slides deep, soothing the ache inside me. With my legs wrapped around his waist and my fingers digging into his ass, we can’t get any closer. Each thrust sends intense need shooting directly to my core. For three months, our passion has burned every bit as bright as the very first time we were together.

“Harder,” I beg. “I want…more.”

Dax claims my lips in a searing kiss—so strong, so possessive, there’s no part of me not on fire for him. His abs tense, his cock so hard and thick inside me, he must be close. Bracing himself on one elbow, the other arm around my back, he grinds against me, and the sweet pressure on my clit is enough to send me flying. But this time, I take him with me.

CHAPTER TWO

DAX

“CALL FROM: RYKER. CALL FROM: RYKER.”

I depend on my phone’s clipped, British voice in my ear every bit as much as I depend on my cane or the rest of my senses. But despite knowing the man on the other end of the call is my brother in every way that counts, I hesitate. We survived Hell together. Would have escaped together if not for the broken leg, infection, and raging fever that made me a liability. He got out, leaving me the only outlet for our torturer’s rage. By the time he came back for me, my sight was gone, along with any hope I’d be free again.

“Call from: Ryker.”

Fuck. He ghosted me for six years after Hell out of some misguided belief I blamed him for my blindness. But even though we’re planning a double wedding in Snoqualmie at New Year’s, the distance between us still sometimes feels insurmountable.

“Ry.”

“This a bad time?” he asks.

“Long day. It’s fine. Evianna isn’t expecting me home for another hour.”

Home.

The word still sounds strange, but it rolls off my tongue without a second thought.

“How’s that going?” He clears his throat, and the uncertainty in his voice is so uncharacteristic—or was when we served together, I’m suddenly worried this isn’t a social call.

I set my glasses on the desk and pinch the bridge of my nose. Sometimes, it’s enough to keep the headaches at bay. “Haven’t fallen down the stairs yet, if that’s what you’re askin’.”

The raspy chuckle eases my worries enough to sit back in my chair and close my eyes.

“I know you’re fucking superman, brother, but can’t you move the bedroom down to the first floor?”

I’m caught between amusement and anger. Not at Ry, but at the danger I face every time I do something most people take for granted. “No. The bedroom’s on the second floor and that’s where it’s going to stay.”

Silence stretches between us, as if his next words are trekking from Seattle to Boston on foot. I’m about to tell him to get to the point when he sighs. “That was insensitive as fuck. I’m sorry.”

“Maybe. But you’re not wrong. We had a better railing installed. And anti-skid strips. Best we can do.”

Another pause, and I can make out Wren’s voice in the background. She’s talking to Pixel, her little Bichon Poodle mix. She still works for Second Sight—when she’s not helping out Ryker’s K&R firm, Hidden Agenda—and we talk at least twice a week. Though it’s usually work related.

“That’s why I called,” he says.

I sit up straighter, confused. “Anti-skid strips?”

“Fuck no.” Another hoarse chuckle, and Ryker continues, “You said ‘we.’”

The realization makes me wish I were already home. Sitting across the table from Evianna, whatever she ordered for dinner in front of me—neither of us have the time or the ability to make more than the simplest of dishes. “Like you’re one to talk. You fell in love with Wren the first day you met her.”

“It was the second. Or third. But that’s my point. West and Cam are married. Inara and Royce did some private commitment ceremony last week. Graham says he doesn’t have a boyfriend, but I half expect him to walk in tomorrow with a ring on his finger. There’s something in the water—here and in Boston. You proposed to Evianna after what? A week? Ford and Joey got engaged—for the second time.”

“And your point? I’m workin’ on my third twelve-hour day this week. Whatever you’re tryin’ to say, out with it.”

“I need to expand Hidden Agenda. And I don’t want to do it without you.” He says the words so quickly, they take a few seconds to register.

“Ry, in case you forgot, I’m blind. I’m not goin’ on any K&R missions. Rescuing Ripper was a one-time thing. Get to recruiting.”

“I am, asshole. But I’m suggesting we pool our resources. Merge Second Sight and Hidden Agenda.” I don’t say anything for so long, my brother-in-arms swears under his breath. “Forget I asked. It was—“

“Wait. Ford’s taking personal time this week. Joey’s…going through some shit. He’s my partner, Ry. I can’t even begin talking about this without him.” The lump in my throat doesn’t go away, even when I squeeze the back of my neck to the point of pain. “And we shouldn’t do this over the phone.”

“When can you come out? I’d come to Boston, but Rip’s not getting any better. Leaving town…”

The only other member of our ODA team to survive Hell, Ripper spent six years being tortured and brainwashed by the same piece of shit who kidnapped Joey because he thought the doctor could save his sick kid.

“Is he still sleeping outside the church every night?”

Ryker’s “yes” is so quiet, it barely registers.

“The shit he went through… How often do you still have nightmares?” The headache flares to life behind my eyes, flashes of light I know aren’t there popping up in my periphery. ”Mine come every few days. Being with Evianna…they’re better, but…”

“I know. Hired a couple of guys I knew from Basic to drive by the church at night. He’s safe. Still can’t spend more than an hour at a time inside, though.” His voice cracks, and he clears his throat again. “If he came to work for me—for us—maybe that would help him.”

Knots tighten in my shoulders, the tension crawling up the back of my head until it feels like my skull is trapped under someone’s boot—a sensation Hell left me intimately familiar with.

Ripper’s never going to be the man he was again.

“I need to get home before this migraine takes hold. After I talk to Ford, we’ll find a time to fly out.”

Ryker sounds almost lost when he says, “Hooah,” then ends the call.

“Hooah, brother,” I say to my empty office. “I’ll see you soon.”

CHAPTER THREE

EVIANNA

“THEY’RE READY FOR US,” Ford says. He slings his duffel bag over his shoulder and opens the door of Hanscom Field airport’s executive lounge.

One of the baggage handlers took our suitcase half an hour ago. Dax and I are staying a full week, while Ford is flying back as soon as the logistics of merging Second Sight and Hidden Agenda are worked out.

“Evianna?” Dax’s voice isn’t steady, though I think I’m the only one who knows him well enough to notice.

I guide his hand to my elbow. “Right here. I’ve got you.” For the past three days, he’s been tense—worried about the trip, about staying in an unfamiliar hotel, being somewhere he can’t control every aspect of his environment.

He grips his cane so hard, his knuckles pale, and doesn’t relax at all until we’re sitting in plush leather seats with cups of coffee in front of us.

“I need to call Joey,” Ford says as the plane reaches ten thousand feet. “I’ll be back.” He ambles back to the small conference room at the rear of the aircraft and shuts the door.

“She wanted to come with him.” Dax reaches for the small table, then skims his fingers over its surface until he finds the coffee cup. “But her therapist wasn’t sure she was ready. Not after all that shit with her family.”

My phone beeps, and I pull it out of my purse. “It’s a message from Ryker. With a picture. ‘Describe this to Dax.’” He frowns, but as soon as I open the photo, my eyes start to burn. “It’s a tattoo. The Special Forces insignia over a blazing red phoenix. Around the outside, in a circle, it says ODA 5150 at the top, and at the bottom, Ryker, Dax, Ripper. It’s beautiful.”

Dax pulls off his glasses and presses his fingers to his scarred lids. He doesn’t move until I rest my hand on his thigh. “Sorry,” he manages. “I…”

“Shhh.” I unbuckle my seatbelt so I can scoot forward and cup his cheeks, dashing away a single tear. “You don’t have to always be strong with me, baby. You can let yourself feel.”

Wrapping his arms around me, Dax pulls me into his lap and buries his face against my neck. “Ry asked Inara to draw this. Something to remind Rip that he survived. To remind us all that we… survived.”

DAX

SITTING in Ry and Wren’s condo, a beer in my hand and Evianna at my side, I kick myself for dreading this trip all fucking week.

Ry was waiting for us when we got off the plane, and after the world’s most awkward handshake, I’d grabbed his arm. “You can do better than that.” He’d hugged me then, and though the contact lasted only a few seconds, when he drew back, I think we were both steadier.

“So, we good?” Ry asks.

Across from me, Pixel yips and Ford’s voice comes from the vicinity of the floor. He’s been playing with the dog for a good half an hour, throwing one of her squeaky toys over and over again. “Other than figuring out what we’re going to call this business? We’re good.”

“Since all of what Hidden Agenda does is off the books, we won’t be filin’ any paperwork with the IRS. Comin’ up with a name can wait.” Draining the last of my beer, I fumble for the table somewhere in front of me.

“I got it, Dax,” Wren says, easing the bottle from my hand. “I’m really glad you and Evianna finally came out here together. I’ve missed you, boss.”

“I’ve…uh…missed you too. The office isn’t the same without you.”

“What? You’ve missed my anxiety attacks and constant geeking out over tea with Ronan?” She laughs, the sound light and so fucking happy, it raises a lump in my throat.

“Yes,” Ford and I answer together.

Linking my fingers with Evianna’s, I peer up at Wren’s hazy form. Her red hair almost glows in the bright light from the window behind her. “I know you couldn’t stay, Wren. Not after everything that happened. But everyone misses you. One day, you and Ry need to visit when no one’s life is in danger.”

A shadow moves next to her, so big and silent, it can only be Ryker. “We will. I promise.”

I promise.

The words we never say unless we mean them. The lump in my throat threatens to choke me until Evianna squeezes my hand.

“Good,” she says. “Because you have to come visit Beacon Hill Technologies. I need to show it off to someone who understands the work.”

Wren and Evianna start talking about things I’ll never understand—zero day exploits, logic bombs, and secrets of the dark web—while Ryker sinks down in a chair next to me. “Ford said he could drop you at the tattoo parlor. I’ll get Ripper. Or…try to, anyway. You good with that?”

“Yeah. Better that way. If he refuses, we’re waiting, right?” The idea of getting this particular ink without him doesn’t sit well, and when Ry agrees, I blow out a breath. “Go. I’ll be there.”

THE NEW TATTOO BURNS. The three of us—by some coincidence or twist of fate—all had a spot on our left arms big enough for the symbol, and though I can’t see it, it feels like a part of me that’s been missing for years is finally back where it belongs.

Before we went in, we agreed. “Together. Brothers. Always.” By the time the artist was done, we were all crying.

Now, Rip’s on his way to the church doorstep where he sleeps every night, and Ry pulls his truck to a stop in front of my hotel. “Breakfast tomorrow? We’ll pick you, Evianna, and Ford up at nine. West, Inara, and Graham will meet us at the café. I’d ask Rip to join us, but…”

“He’s not ready. But Ry?” I turn to him, and though I can’t see his face—or any part of him this late at night, I hope I’m staring somewhere in the vicinity of his eyes. “Tonight was important. For all of us. One day, he’ll see it. Just give him some time.”

He doesn’t say anything, and I roll my eyes. “If you’re nodding…”

“Fuck.”

“I knew it. Asshole.”

He punches me in the arm, a good-natured gesture, but one I’m wholly unprepared for. Training takes over. My block is followed by a low growl—mine—and a sharp intake of air—his.

“Dax…” The regret in his voice hurts me so much more than any hit, and I sink back against the seat.

“Six years.” I can barely get the words out. “I couldn’t trust anyone. After my demons drove Lucy away, I was alone. Findin’ an apartment? I had to use one of those services that ‘sees’ for you and describes everything. Do you know how hard it was knowing someone else was more familiar with my own home than I was?”

“No. Because I wasn’t there for you.”

“Stop.” Grabbing my arm and squeezing the muscle under the new ink, I use the pain to focus. “I’m tryin’ to explain why I’m so fucked up. How I turned into so much of an asshole. There are days Evianna knows to warn me before she takes my arm or reaches for my hand. The woman I love—the woman I’m going to spend the rest of my life with—can’t touch me any goddamn time she wants.”

“Wren sees it,” he says quietly. “The darkness. That’s how I knew she was it for me. Because she accepted it. ‘Beautifully broken,’ she calls it. Watching you and Evianna together? She sees it too. How do you think she knows when to warn you?”

Now it’s my turn to nod.

“I stayed away because I was a fucking coward. Maybe if I hadn’t…we’d both be a little less broken. But Dax? We’re here now. We got Ripper out of that shithole. Killed the man who almost destroyed him. And I figure we’re the two luckiest sons of bitches in the whole goddamn world. This…family we have isn’t blood. Not a one of them. But it’s stronger than anything we’ll face for the rest of our lives.”

He’s right. Evianna is my home. Ry and Rip my brothers. Ford. Trevor. West. Inara. Graham. Clive. Ella. Even Ronan and Vasquez. I trust them all with my life. Have on more than one occasion. And I’d do it again. But it’s more than that. They know me. At least the parts of me I let them see. Maybe it’s time to stop hiding from everyone but Evianna. Maybe letting them all in won’t be as painful as I think.

“Never expected you to be the one to come up with all the right words,” I say, shaking my head. “Wren’s good for you.”

“She’s my everything.”

I LET Ryker walk me to the hotel’s front door. Even point me toward the elevators with clock time and distance. Six months ago, I would have insisted on going it alone. Would have made it too. But it wouldn’t have been easy. Asking for help was the hardest part of learning how to live without my sight, but with my family—with Ry and Evianna and even Ford—it’s getting easier.

After Evianna and I checked in this morning, I memorized the path to our room on the tenth floor, walking it five times before we went to Ry and Wren’s condo.

The door lock beeps, and I call, “Darlin’, it’s me,” before I open it more than a crack. We’re safe here. Hell, we’re safe back home—even if I can’t bring myself to admit it yet. Not out loud.

“I’m here,” she says, and on my left, a hazy shadow rises from the couch in the main room.

Folding up my cane, I hook its strap on the doorknob, then feel for the deadbolt and security lever. Safe doesn’t mean careless. When she comes up behind me, her warmth seeping into my back, I relax for the first time in days. “Let me see,” she says, her lips brushing my ear.

I roll up my sleeve, exposing the design covered with a layer of plastic designed to speed the healing process. “Is it…right?”

“It’s perfect.”

CHAPTER FOUR

EVIANNA

WHILE DAX, Ryker, and Ford have a late breakfast with Ripper—and try to convince him to join the team on a limited basis—Wren and I go wedding dress shopping.

It only takes her half an hour. A lace and silk number that hugs her curves and dips just low enough to ensure Ryker won’t be able to keep his hands off her after the ceremony. “Do I need Spanx?” she asks.

“Need? Hell no. No woman needs Spanx,” I call from the dressing room where my struggles to zip up my own dress are currently calling me a liar. “The question is, ‘Do you want Spanx?’”

“Definitely not.” She makes a vague gagging sound. “I don’t need anything else making it hard to breathe. My anxiety will do that all on its own.”

Giving up, I manage to get myself out of my tenth dress of the day and sink down onto the little seat in the corner. “None of these are right.”

“Hang on,” she says. “I have an idea.”

“At least one of us does.” The double wedding on New Year’s Eve will be small. Only family. But like most women, I’ve been dreaming of the perfect dress since I was a little girl. The problem? I have no idea what it looks like. Just that when I put it on, I know.

Five minutes later, she’s back. I expect her to hand me half a dozen options, but when I crack the door, she thrusts a single dress through the narrow opening. In the lights, it’s dazzling. Silver beads and sequins over a pale gray sheath with long sleeves and an illusion neckline.

Tears shimmer in my eyes as I do up the zipper. “It’s…wow.”

“Let me see!”

Every movement makes the dress sparkle more. After a single sob, I swallow hard and open the door. “He’ll be able to see me,” I whisper, and Wren covers her mouth, her own eyes not quite dry. “It’s perfect.”

DAX and I don’t get back to our hotel until after ten. As soon as he’s double-checked the locks, he wraps his arm around my waist and claims my mouth in a desperate, passionate kiss.

“I need you,” he says when we come up for air, both of us panting. “Right now.”

Unbuttoning his shirt, pulling him with me as I walk backward toward the bedroom, I marvel at how much he’s changed since the day we met. He doesn’t flinch as I toss the shirt on the desk, doesn’t tense when I run my hands over his scarred chest. I’m not so naïve to think his insecurities won’t come back. But for tonight, he’s the man I think he’s supposed to be. The man who saved me. The man who loves me with his whole heart.

The man who can’t see, but who somehow always makes me feel seen.

We tumble to the bed, and I reach up to cup his cheek. “I love you, Dax. You are my happy-ever-after.”

“And you’re mine, darlin’. My light. My heart. My everything. For as long as I live. I promise.”

For more of Dax and Evianna—and of course, Ryker and Wren—check out Second Sight and all of the Away From Keyboard series.

About the Author

Patricia D. Eddy writes romance for the beautifully broken. Fueled by coffee, wine, and Doctor Who episodes on repeat, she brings damaged heroes and heroines together to find their happy ever afters in many different worlds. From military to paranormal to BDSM, her characters are unstoppable forces colliding with such heat, sparks always fly.

Patricia makes her home in Seattle with her husband and very spoiled cats, and when she’s not writing, she loves working on home improvement projects, especially if they involve power tools.

Her award-winning Away From Keyboard series will always be her first love, because that’s where she realized the characters in her head were telling their own stories—and she was just writing them down.

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DEAREST PART-TIME PRINCESS

A MODERN FAIRYTALE

PAMELA DUMOND

CHAPTER ONE

I LIE in the king-sized bed, a soft cotton sheet tangled around me. The shower thrums in the adjacent room beating a low rhythm with the heavy rain pelting the bedroom windows that overlook a dense thicket of green woods on this summer day. I bask in the bliss of post- ‘my husband’s leaving on a business trip- sex’ until Nick starts singing the lyrics to “Wake Me up before you Go Go” in the shower and breaks the spell.

“You already did that,” I call to him.

“I know,” he hollers back. “And pretty well, might I add.”

I can’t help but smile. But then again, Prince Nicholas Frederick of Fredonia has made me smile ever since he sat down next to me in First Class on the flight from Chicago to London, ran a finger up my thigh, and oh-so-indecently propositioned me with a voice that sounded like sex and honey.

The memories of the first time we met are inked on my heart. I slapped at his hand but only managed to connect with my own leg. He said “that” might bruise and then promised to kiss the mark away. Goosebumps sprouted on the backs of my arms and I refused to look him in the eyes. Because, seriously, what kind of cocky jerk propositions a complete stranger in First Class?

“A big fat trouble trap, cocky jerk,” a little voice inside of my head had clucked. “Ignore this man. Don’t even look at him. Besides, don’t you have a very important job to do? You don’t have the time to play silly games with some random sex monster.”

“Yes. Absolutely. Right,” I said silently to that little voice. But then I noticed the guy’s muscular hand, elegant fingers, and the absence of a wedding ring. How bad could confronting this husky-voiced, sex monster be?

My eyes traveled up his black, well-cut sports coat. The top buttons of his crisp white dress shirt were open and showcased a smattering of black curls on a broad, defined chest. When I finally gazed upon his face, time slowed down. For a second or five thousand, I forgot how to breathe.

The jerk, aka Prince Nicholas of Fredonia, (I did not know his name or title at the time), had a thick head of jet black hair, crystal blue eyes with the finest of twinkle wrinkles etched around them. You could bury a nickel in the cleft of his chin and his cheekbones were so sharp one could suffer a paper cut by caressing them.

I turned hot, then cold, then hot again as deliciousness coursed through me and tingles erupted everywhere. Yes, even there. I knew at precisely at that moment that I was a goner, smitten, doomed. But, that was five years ago when I was a recently fired, down-on-her-luck cocktail waitress desperate to pay her uncle’s rent at assisted living. And that was also the first day of my bizarre, new part-time job.

I was unjustly canned at MadDog biker’s bar when I stood up for my BFF when a drunk customer harassed her. I scoured the Internet looking for work and stumbled across a weird job post looking for a personal assistant to a VIP. The VIP in question turned out to be Lady Elizabeth, a ridiculously wealthy young woman of noble heritage. Lady Lizzie was from Fredonia, a postage stamp sized, old-world country tucked between France and Switzerland in the foothills of the Alps.

Much to my surprise, I was hired on the spot. Lady Elizabeth and I shared a passing resemblance: I could have been her cheaply dressed, curvier, brunette cousin. My budget attire was swapped for designer clothes when her people gave me a major makeover. My brunette hair became tastefully blondish after seven hundred dollar highlights. Her crew of royal fixer-uppers taught me how to walk like a lady, eat like a lady, and even speak like a lady. After her people abracadabred me into Lucy Trabbicio 2.0, our resemblance was no longer passing: I could have been Elizabeth’s doppelganger.

I learned the whole “personal assistant” job description was actually code for they’d hired me to impersonate Lady Elizabeth for a week, ten days tops. Lizzie had recently agreed to an arranged marriage between herself and Prince Cristoph of Fredonia. She needed a pinch of time to tie up loose ends before she returned to her home country to announce their betrothal.

The thought of impersonating a royal Lady gave me the heeby-jeevies and I almost bolted. But they agreed to pay me a small fortune and I desperately needed the money. In return, I agreed to step into Lizzie’s designer shoes, buy her that time, and not succumb to playboy Prince Cristoph’s numerous charms. But no one told me about Nick.

Someone should have told me about Nick.

Nick was the wild card.

Prince Nicholas Frederick was Cristoph’s brother and the younger Prince of Fredonia. He’d been playing horizontal hanky panky with Lady Lizzie for the last few years whenever their paths crossed. This explains his propositioning me in First Class – he mistook me for Elizabeth. Sadly, for Nick, canoodling with me was not part of my new part-time job. Sadly, for me, no one had told me about Nick and Elizabeth hooking up before I stepped foot on that plane.

I’m well aware the story of how I met Prince Nicholas of Fredonia sounds far-fetched. But I swear on my heart of hearts that it is one hundred percent true. Five years later, I’m married to that cocky, husky-voiced sex monster. We share a gorgeous four-year-old daughter and I couldn’t be happier.

“I’m pretty good, Lucy, aren’t I?” Nick says, appearing in the bathroom door frame, interrupting my trip down memory lane. He’s naked except for a towel wrapped around his waist. Stray water droplets cling to his muscular frame, and rivulets, undoubtedly grateful to touch his skin, trail down his body. “Maybe I should audition for one of those singing shows.”

“Maybe you should come over here and get back in bed,” I say eying him appreciatively. My husband is still hot even though he can’t sing to save his life.

“I wish,” he says. “But I can’t be late for my flight.”

“Oh, come on.” I bat my eyes at him. “I’ll do the special thing you like.”

“There are a lot of special things I like,” he says. “But your charms won’t work on me right now, my love. This trip’s important. I’m going to convince those prickly Brits to invite the Royal House of Fredonia onto the board of the Global Children’s Foundation.”

“I thought Fredonia was already part of that?”

“We are not,” he says. “They were spooked a few years back by the rumors of cousin Leopold’s shady business dealings. They pulled their invitation.”

“I don’t blame them. Leopold’s trouble and he has bad teeth.” I pick up the morning newspapers from the side table and flip through pages. I’m a working royal and if my husband won’t have hot sex with me two times in a row, I need to get going with my day. But depressing article headlines declare:

“Hottest Summer in a Century Predicted”

“Hold onto your Lederhosen - Another Recession Looms”

“Dark Chocolate to be Taxed. Royal Chocolatiers in a Tizzy”

Ugh. I hated regular newspapers.

“What are you going to do while I’m out of town?” Nick walks across our bedroom to the armoire.

“I’ll see your grandmother today. Our daughter and her hooligan friends are visiting Royal Nana for a playdate. She’ll babysit while I meet up with the Ladies.” I pitch the boring papers and reach for a gossip magazine. The Fussy Fredonian always features colorful photos of celebrities, royals, and politicians caught in colorful shenanigans. It used to be my favorite tabloid until a few months back when David Pfefferhoofen got his knickers in a twist, and started writing mean articles about me.

“Don’t get into trouble with your friends. Especially Esmeralda.”

“She’s your cousin. She takes after you.”

“I know. And give Nana a smooch from me. Tell her we need to talk about our plan.” Nick slides open a drawer, pulls out underwear. He tosses his towel onto a chair.

I take in all that naked royal deliciousness and my reading screeches to an abrupt halt. “Stop teasing me and get back in bed.”

“I can’t.”

“You’re the Prince of Fredonia, Nick. They’ll hold the plane for you.”

“No, they won’t,” he says and pulls on fitted, black briefs. “I am not Cristoph. I am not the heir to the throne.”

“I picked you over him. I’d do it again.”

“I know,” he says. “And I’m glad you did.”

“I’d hold the plane for you,” I say. “I’d hold anything for you.”

“I know.” He turns and smiles.

Those crystal blue eyes. The way his mouth quirks when he smiles sends shivers down my spine. My Nick could melt the ice off an icecap, the snow off snow tires, the freeze off a Mr. Frosty frozen yogurt.

“I wish I could, Lucy, but I can’t. I’ll make it up to you when I return.”

“Then get dressed before I tackle you.” I reluctantly return to flipping magazine pages. That’s when I see the photo as well as the headline: “Lucy Trabbicio Caught Wearing Blouse Backwards. House of Pucci Appalled!”

“Oh, no,” I say.

“Oh, no, what?” Nick asks, pulling pants on.

“David Pfefferhoofen strikes again.”

“The hack journalist?”

“How many David Pfefferhoofens could there be?” I ask.

“I don’t know.” He zips. “Did he write another mean article?”

“Does he ever write anything nice?”

“No.” He shrugs on a crisp, white, long-sleeved shirt. “What is it this time?”

“Apparently I wore my blouse backwards. He says here,

“Dearest Part-time Princess Lucy. It’s time for another makeover. You’re probably a sweet girl. But you don’t really belong here as a working royal, do you?”

Nick winces and buttons his shirt. “You can’t let one disgruntled, reporter get under your skin.”

“It’s not just one reporter,” I say. “It’s the relentless petty articles he pens. Do you remember the recent ribbon cutting ceremony at Le Petit Crêperie a few months back?”

“On our trip to Switzerland?”

“Yes.

“Was that the excursion when we sullied the innocent eyeballs of Sister Maria, the novice nun at the Fraumünster Convent?” He asks and waggles his eyebrows.

“Yes.” I shake my finger at him. “You were the one who said our tour was completely private. You insisted no one could possibly discover us fooling around in that little walk-in closet under the stairs.”

“And yet Sister Maria did,” he says. “I’ve never heard a woman scream so loudly in my life.”

“You were half naked. She got an eyeful,” I say. “Back to the ribbon cutting ceremony. Remember when Le Petit Crêperie’s owner handed me the wrong scissors?”

He nods. “It took you five attempts to slice through that sash. I offered to help but you turned me down.”

“I can’t let my husband do everything for me. I have to make my own way here in Fredonia.”

“I know, Lucy. But I can help. I can run interference for you from time to time. That’s what husbands do.”

“The old timers won’t respect me if my husband is constantly doing things for me.”

“But you don’t have to do everything yourself. That includes fitting in with the old-timers.”

“I want them to respect me. I work so hard.”

“I get it. But all the hard work in the world doesn’t mean everyone will respect you. People are people. Some are reasonable. Some are not.”

“The day after the ribbon cutting there was a photo of me in The Fussy Fredonian frowning at the scissors,” I say. “The headline read, “Lucy Trabbicio: Not the Sharpest Tool in the Shed.” You know what Pfefferhoofen wrote?”

“What?”

“Dearest Part-time Princess Lucy:

Please do us all a favor and go back to cocktailing. Impersonating a working royal is clearly not your strong suit.”

“He’s such an ass.” Nick frowns. “Do you want me to have him beheaded?”

“Maybe.”

Nick’s phone pings and he reaches for it.

My stomach flip-flops as I read the rest of Pfefferhoofen’s latest article. Based on what he writes, you’d think I was the biggest idiot in the world. In his eyes, I couldn’t do anything right. A few months back, after reading the fifth mean article, I took some time and researched his background.

David was close to seventy. He covered serious topics for decades but in the last two years he had found himself relegated to the old-timer’s corner in the back of the small, disheveled offices of the tabloid newspaper writing hatchet pieces. The Fussy Fredonian was close to shutting down its paper division and going digital. His beloved paper was changing just like the rest of the world.

David was not pleased about this. He took out his anger on those in royal circles, whom he blamed for ruining the good old days. He railed at the younger royals, writing that they were, for the most part, a privileged, lazy lot: the men selfish, the women vacuous. He accused us of taking too much time for ourselves. We did things like self-care, yoga, meditation. We didn’t spend enough time serving the country. We were easily triggered and had forgotten when stiff upper lips were the sensible response to being bullied.

Do you know what David Pfefferhoofen really hated?

He really hated when modern royals married outside aristocracy. But he really, really hated when “gauche” Americans, especially those from the wrong side of the tracks, were involved in that mix. For the last four years, I was the undeserving American caught in his crabby crosshairs and I was sick and tired of being his punching bag.

Ignoring him didn’t seem to work, so I’d tried reaching out to him on several occasions. I offered to sit down with him for an interview, but the palace quickly quashed that idea after he ran a piece about how I dangled my two-year-old daughter Clara from a balcony when Nick and I were visiting Rome.

We were touring the Trinità dei Monti church at the top of the Spanish Steps. We took in the view from the bell tower. I turned my head for a few seconds to thank the priest who was showing us around when my child decided to scramble onto the top of the balcony. By the time I spotted her she was losing her balance. Terrified she was going to plummet to her death I lunged for her. A paparazzi captured a picture of a panicked me clutching the hem of Clara’s dress and one chubby leg while Nick hoisted our daughter to safety.

The Fussy Fredonian headline blared: “Heroic Prince Nicholas saves daughter Princess Clara”

The accompanying article by Pfefferhoofen continued:

“Dearest Part-time Princess Lucy:

All hail the heroic Prince Nicholas. Fredonians are grateful that Princess Clara is well and unharmed. But, dearest part-time princess, it is our fervent wish that you leave the ‘working royal’ business to those more qualified. And perhaps take a class in mothering…”

I cried about that one for a solid day.

“How long will you be gone?” I ask Nick.

“A couple of days,” he says, slides the phone in his pocket and walks to the bed. He sits down next to me. “Pfefferhoofen’s an idiot. Why are you even paying attention to him?”

“Because his stuff is out there for everyone to read.”

“It’s salacious trash,” he says, brushing my hair off my cheek, tucking strands behind my ear. He leans in and kisses me. His lips are full, his breath bears a hint of mint toothpaste and coffee.

“It makes me feel bad.”

“I’m sorry, you feel bad.” He trails kisses down my neck, then works his way back up.

“What are you doing?”

“I can make you feel good.”

CHAPTER TWO

NICK SLIDES the strap of my nightshirt off my shoulder. The flat of his hand skims my breast.

My breath hitches in my chest. “You said that you can’t run late.”

“I changed my mind.” My husband tugs my nightshirt lower. His hand moves down my body, lower. He draws circles on the curve of my lower back. He slides a hand over my hip, fingers lingering, touching, exploring.

My breath comes faster.

His fingers move down my thigh, fingers grazing, tickling.

I place my hand on his hand and move it upward. Right there. “I was thinking I might write a letter to David Pfefferhoofen while you’re gone.” I feel his hardness against my leg.

“Not a great idea,” he says. Breathing heavier, he unzips his pants.

A knock-knock sounds on the door and we startle.

Duty calls. He has to go. We both know it.

“Kiss me.” I stare up at him and brush a lock of black hair behind his ear. His eyes are so blue. His lips, so full.

“Promise me you won’t get into any trouble while I’m gone.”

“Kiss me first.” I bite my lip.

“A kiss for a promise.”

I cross my fingers. He can’t see them. He’ll never know. “I promise.”

“Crossing fingers doesn’t count.” He leans down and kisses me softly on the lips, lingering. “But you already know this.”

The door to our bedroom bursts open revealing our four-year-old daughter, Clara. She glares at us, her hands on her hips. “What are you doing?”

“Dancing,” Nick says. He discretely zips up, and covers me with the sheet before he stands up. “Your mother and I love to dance.”

Clara stomps inside accompanied by her two BFFS. Lady Vera, a four-year-old ginger-haired dynamo who I call ‘The Terrorizer’, does a cartwheel on the Persian styled rug. Lady Rania walks to the book case in the far corner of the room, plunks down, tilts her head and examines titles.

“Your Papa and I might enter one of those TV contests,” I say, winding a sheet around me, I step out of bed. I hustle to the bathroom, slip into a robe, and sash it.

“I’m an excellent singer,” Nick says.

“I know, Papa,” Clara says.

By the time I walk back into our room, Nick’s launched into his rendition of Queen’s “Somebody to Love.” He has Clara in his arms. Her legs dangle like a chubby doll as he waltzes her around the room. She giggles.

“Me next,” Vera says thrusting her arms in the air impatiently.

Nick’s phone pings, and then pings again.

“They’re holding the plane,” I say. “You’d better get going.”

“Text them for me please.” He kisses our daughter on the cheek and sets her down. Vera practically tackles him. “Tell them I’m going to be a few minutes late. It’s an emergency.”

“Will do.” I pick up his phone as he picks up Lady Vera and swings her around, singing another chorus. I pick up his phone and text his message.

Vera screams in delight. Raina abandons the books and stares up at the party in the room. “Me. I’m next. I’m next!”

Nick places Vera on the ground and holds his arms wide open to Raina. “May I have this dance, my Lady?”

“Yes,” she says and runs into them.

Five minutes later the girls are placated and he’s out the door, a big, fat smile on his face. “Love you, Lucy.”

This man. My heart.

“I love you back.”

A FEW HOURS later I drop Clara and her friends off at Royal Nana’s townhouse.

Her butler, Herr Fingerlachen answers the door on the third knock and peers down at the girlies. “Who do we have here?” he asks.

The girls race past him down the long hallway, make a left into Nana’s kitchen, and disappear from sight. Their giggles bounce off stone walls.

“How are you, Herr Fingerlachen?” I ask. He’s got to be as old as Royal Nana and she’s ninety.

“I am well except for a rickety hip.” He bows his head. “Thank you, Duchess.”

“Sorry about the hip. Do you need me to come in? Get everyone settled. Oriented?”

“Her Majesty’s people helping with the fundraiser tomorrow have already been signed up to help with Princess Clara and the Ladies today. She is currently on a phone call and apologizes for not being able to properly say hello.”

“No worries,” I say and hold out Clara’s large backpack. “I’ll be back in a few hours. You have my number to text if there’s a problem, yes?”

“Of course, Duchess.”

“Terrific,” I say. “Thank you. See you in a bit.”

BLOATED SUMMER STORM clouds bumpity-bump in skies overhead and thunder rumbles in the distance. I meet up with my BFFS, Lady Esmeralda Castile von Hapsburg and Lady Joan Brady at the Old Town Farmers’ Market in Sauerhausen, Fredonia’s capital city. I plunk a straw hat on my head. Hardly anyone bothers me during these outings, but sometimes it’s nice to add an extra layer of anonymity.

Baroque-styled buildings resembling fat, frosted squares of sheet cake line the sides of the streets. We wander byzantine passageways that wind around a maze of farmers’ market shopping tents standing in the city plaza. We poke our heads in various booths displaying handmade wares, fresh fruits and vegetables, and just about every delectable imaginable.

My royal bodyguard, Franco, is dressed in khakis and a fitted T-shirt. He follows us discretely in the background, sunglasses firmly planted on his square face.

“Hot bodyguard,” Esmeralda says.

“You think all bodyguards are hot,” Joan says.

“Not true,” Esmeralda says. “Royal Nana’s bodyguards are most assuredly not hot.”

“Royal Nana’s ninety,” I say. “She needs someone to help her in and out of cars. Find her hearing aids when she takes them out and loses them.”

“And protect her from the occasional wacko,” Esmeralda says. “I’ll still want a hot bodyguard when I’m ninety.”

We pause at a vendor’s booth, take in the scented candles, soaps, handmade clothes and blankets.

“Where’s the kid?” Esmeralda asks.

“You mean your godchild?” I ask.

“The kid. My godchild. Clara. I have many names for that one. Princess Trouble is one them.”

“Princess Trouble is hanging out with Royal Nana this afternoon,” I say.

“Her Royal Highness had a new jungle gym installed in her back yard,” Lady Joan says. “I visited during the installation.”

“She had her gardeners clear out a few old potting sheds,” I say. “She said life was short and that she’d rather watch her granddaughter and friends play than watch the plants grow.”

“I’m with her,” Joan says.

“She’s the best grandmother ever,” I say and check out bars of Friedricksburgh chocolate displayed on a rack. Thin foil-wrapped samples fill a silver tray on the vendor’s table. I grab one, unwrap the covering, and pop the chocolate in my mouth. Joan and Esmeralda follow suit.

“Clara’s going to be a handful when she’s older,” Esmeralda says. “She takes after my side of the family.”

“I think she looks like Lucy,” Joan says plunking a basket of items on the table in front of the shopkeeper.

“Thank you,” I say. “I hope she doesn’t get my hips when she grows up.”

The merchant rings the with soaps, candles, bath salts, and chocolates. He places them into a large brown shopping bag.

“Your hips are just fine,” Joan says. “Cute dress by the way.”

“Are you wearing it inside out?” Esmeralda asks.

“Very funny,” I say, glancing down just to make sure. But no, I am wearing the dress correctly. David Pfefferhoofen, Mr. Fussy, will have nothing to complain about today.

Joan sets her purse down. She pulls a few Euros out and hands them to the shopkeeper. He passes her the bag. “Thank you.” She lifts it to her nose and inhales. “Heavenly.”

We leave the booth and wander through the crowd. The sun breaks through a patch in the clouds and warms my shoulders. I spot a photographer in the distance, camera to his face, clicking pictures. But I’m used to ignoring the paparazzi now. One, or two, or five – the photographers are just not worth worrying about. If only I could feel the same about mean journalists.

“How long is Nick gone for?” Esmeralda asks.

“A few days,” I say. “Business in London.”

“What kind of business?” Joan asks

“He’s pitching the Global Children Foundation.”

“For what?” Esmeralda asks.

“To get the royal family on their charity board.”

“That’s a good fit,” Joan says, reaching around herself, patting her waist, her leg. “Oh, crap. I think I left my purse at the kiosk.”

We pivot as if in unison, and walk back toward the tent.

Esmeralda waves at the shopkeeper. “Hey!” But he does not respond. She picks up the pace, jogging toward him.

“I’ve got everything in that purse,” Joan says, worrying her lower lip. “My credit cards. My ID. I’m supposed to go away this weekend. I won’t be able to fly without my ID.”

“I’m sure your purse is still there,” I say, walking a little faster.

Esmeralda reaches the shopkeeper. He glances around and then shakes his head. She turns back toward us and holds her hands in the air. “He doesn’t have it.”

“Oh, no,” Joan says, wringing her hands.

“Let’s check the ground.” I squat, and slide my sunglasses down my nose. I look under the table that has the chocolate samples. “You probably dropped it when you took the shopping bag.”

“Can I help you?” The shopkeeper peers under the table. “Oh, you’re….”

“Yes,” I say. “Yes, I am. Don’t worry about it.”

That’s when I spot Joan’s purse. It’s all the way toward the back. Someone must have accidentally kicked it. I kneel, extend my arm and grab it.

Exactly the same time a man with slick hair and a goatee grabs the opposite end.

“That’s not yours,” I say and frown.

“How do you know?” He asks, tugging on it.

“What does your purse look like Joan?” I ask.

“It’s red with a daisy on it,” she says, peering down at us.

“Like this?” I ask.

“Yes,” Joan says.

The goateed man pulls even harder, but now I’m angry. I do not let go. One last yank on his part, and I crash forward onto the ground, still holding tight to that bag. “You are not. Getting. My friend’s purse,” I say as I hold on for dear life but he starts dragging me. “Let go!”

Anger surges inside me. I am angry that some idiot is trying to steal my friend’s purse. I am angry that people are bullies. I am angry that David Pfefferhoofen is being so awful. I wish I had more control, but Nick’s right. I don’t.

Franco tackles the goateed man and pins him to the ground. The wannabe purse thief releases the bag and I clutch it in my sweaty grip like it is a trophy I have won in a competition. The next thing I know there’s a camera nearby click-clicking. A few cops hustle toward us.

“Are you all right?” my bodyguard asks.

“Yes,” I say, adrenaline coursing through me.

“Lucy,” Esmeralda says.

Click-click, I hear the photographer’s camera.

“What?”

“Pull your skirt down,” she says. “Now.”

“Oh no,” I say, suddenly realizing what has happened. I pat at my sundress but it is hiked halfway up my hips.

Click-click. I scramble, pulling the hem of my dress down my legs so as not to moon the world but I suspect it’s too late.

Esmeralda and Joan hold out their hands and help me up. I hand the purse to Joan.

“Thank you,” she says.

“You’re welcome,” I say, dusting off my skirt that now rests on my lower thighs the way it’s supposed to. “How bad was it?”

“Not good,” Joan says.

“Bad,” Esmeralda says.

“Like,” I say. “Do you think the photographer got pictures of my entire ass bad? Or just a partial shot bad?”

“Entire,” Esmeralda says. “But the good news?

“Yes?”

“From what I could see — I think you wore your good underwear today.”

CHAPTER THREE

MY DAUGHTER and her friends are passed out on thick blankets in the corner of Royal Nana’s living room. They’ve been like that for about a half our now. I’m not sure if I hate to wake them because they look so angelic, or if I just can’t take any more adulting for the rest of the day.

“I’m so glad you wore your good undies today, Lucy,” Royal Nana says, looking at the photos that are already online.

“Ditto,” I say. “Has David Pfefferhoofen written about it yet?”

“Yes,” she says. “Do you want me to read it to you?”

“No,” I say.

She leans into her computer and toys with the mouse.

A minute passes, and I finally ask, “Do you need some help with that?”

“No.” She leans in and squints. “I’ve got it. Here’s what he wrote,

“Dearest Part-time Princess Lucy:

Congratulations on adding ‘Stop Thief!’ to your many tasks as a working royal. We approve of your wardrobe, especially your choice in undergarments. White, high on the thigh, mid-rise seems to suit you perfectly. We here at The Fussy Fredonian, passed the hat, and purchased a present for you to wear in your future crime prevention outings. Best, David Pfefferhoofen.

“Blah.” Royal Nana dabs at her brow, and leans back in her chair.

“What?” I ask. “What? How bad could it be?”

In what seems like an eternity, she scrolls down and I see it.

A photo of women’s underwear with “Working Royal” emblazoned on the back.

I drop my head in my hands.

“Lucy,” Royal Nana says, leans forward with a creak and takes my hands in hers. “David Pfefferhoofen is a bully. Nick told me he wants to shut this down but you won’t let him. Why not?”

“I don’t want to turn into one of those women.”

“What kind of woman are you talking about?”

“The kind of woman who lets her husband do everything for her,” I say. “I’m from Chicago. I’m tough. I’m a fighter. I’m used to taking care of my own problems.”

“Sweetheart,” Royal Nana says. “You are married to a man who loves you. You share a gorgeous daughter. We are your family. Your fight is our fight. Let people help you.”

Tears well. “But, but — ”

“Just trust me. You and I and Nick and everyone else in this family? We’ve got this.”

“Thank you.” And now, those tears are spilling down my cheeks.

“Take the children home,” she says. “Talk to your husband. Have a good dinner. Get some sleep. We’ll pick you up tomorrow at 1 pm sharp.”

“Okay,” I say. “What are we doing? Where are we going?”

“A place where part-time princesses flourish,” she says. “A place where bullies are not tolerated.”

NANA SENDS her driver and Herr Fingerlachen to pick me up the next afternoon. “Where is she?” I ask.

“Her Royal Majesty’s already there,” he says. “She’s warming up the crowd.”

“The crowd?”

The limo pulls into the circle driveway at the Fredonia Children’s Hospital and the chauffer drops us off. A photographer snaps my picture and I flinch.

Inside the hospital we walk down a few corridors and arrive at a large recreation room. We enter a large sunshine yellow room. Bookshelves line one wall. Tables painted green as grass and blue as summer skies are covered in games and arts and crafts.

But all the attention is on Royal Nana, aka Her Royal Highness. A few photographers take her picture. A journalist with a recorder in hand sits on a chair next to uniformed medical staff.

Her Royal Highness occupies a wing-backed chair, enraptured children circling her, sprawled out on mats lining the floor. A book is open on her lap, as she reads out loud. “Oh sure, to outsiders it might have looked like Lucy and Prince Nicholas had a fairytale romance. After all, he was a Prince of Fredonia who fell in love with an American commoner, a down-on-her-luck waitress who was born and raised an ocean away.”

“Oh, my heart.” My hand flies to my chest. “She’s telling them our story.”

Nick walks in the door and I startle. “Can I tell the rest?”

“Of course,” she says. “It’s yours and Lucy’s story, after all.”

“Ooh.” Excited whispers rise from the crowd of kids.

“What are you doing here?” I ask as he makes his way to me. “I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow?”

“That was the plan,” he says, kissing me quickly on the lips. “But plans change.” He continues to his grandmother’s side, puts a soft hand on her arm, and points to the book. “May I?”

She hands it to him.

He opens it and pretends to read. But I don’t think his words are written on those pages.

“Lucy and I first met on an airplane,” Nick says. “I had her confused with someone else at first, but quickly realized she wasn’t like anyone else I’d ever met. She was kind and she was funny. She was quirky and she was original. She had a habit of standing up for what was right. She could make me laugh even when I felt bad about myself. I was falling in love with her before I knew it. But then I messed up.”

“How?” A boy blurts out.

“I didn’t fight hard enough for her,” Nick says. “I hurt her feelings and I almost lost her. She left Fredonia and flew back to Chicago. I asked my friends to contact her, but she wouldn’t speak to them. She didn’t want to have anything to do with me. I’m not sure I blamed her.”

He looks at me and my throat tightens because my heart is squeezing into it.

“What did you do?” A little girl blurts out.

Nick puts the book down on a bench and walks back to me. He takes my hands in his. “I got on another plane and I flew back to Chicago. I went to the hole-in-the-wall biker bar where she was working part-time. I got down on one knee and I asked her to marry me. Because I had promised myself I would never lose her, ever again.”

“And that is the true story of how Lucy Trabbicio, who some had nick-named part-time princess,” Royal Nana dabs at her eyes with a hanky. “became Princess of Fredonia and Prince Nicholas’s full-time wife.”

“It’s a modern fairytale,” Herr Fingerlachen says, sniffling.

A FEW WEEKS later I sit on the Persian styled rug on the floor in the bedroom I share with my husband. Still in my comfy pajamas I read the Fussy Fredonian. “It says here that David Pfefferhoofen is retiring.”

“Really,” Nick says. “What a shame.”

“Did you have something to do with this?” I ask.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says and starts singing.

“Papa,” Clara wriggles off the bed and skips toward him. She holds out her arms. He picks her up.

And I watch Prince Nicholas of Fredonia and Princess Clara act out their new morning routine: a song and a dance.

He serenades her off key, singing “The Best of My Love” by the Emotions. He holds her in his big strong arms, dancing her around the room while she giggles. “I have to go to work,” he kisses her on the cheek and goes to set her down.

But she squirms in his arms. “One more, Papa. One more!”

“Fine. But just one.” He rolls his eyes dramatically and launches into another song.

Prince Nicholas makes me smile. He’s made me smile for a while now. Ever since he sat down next to me in First Class in the airplane and propositioned me.

“Let’s do this for another seventy years,” he says, dancing over to me.

“Do what?” I ask and look up at him. Blue eyes twinkling, hair so black, one disheveled curl that hangs over his forehead. Be still my heart.

“Be in love. Be married. Be real.” He holds our daughter tight as he leans down and kisses me on the lips. “Be happy, Lucy.”

This man. I will forever be in love with this man.

He stands back up and I answer him. “I’m in.”

THE END

Find Part-time Princess Books 1 - 4 here!

About the Author

A USA Today Bestselling author of modern fairytales, Pamela DuMond was featured on ABC 20/20. She pitched the real-life Erin Brockovich story to ‘Hollywood’ where it became the hit movie.

Pam writes romantic comedy, cozy mysteries, historical fantasy, and psychological thrillers. Her books have been optioned for Film/TV, licensed for games, and foreign translations.

Pam consumes audio books like potato chips, and is bossed around by two cats.

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TRANSCENDENTAL

BONUS CONTENT

PERSEPHONE AUTUMN

CHAPTER ONE

FLETCHER

“STOP RUNNING IN THE HOUSE,” I call after Topher as he zigzags around the couch and coffee table.

Lightweight giggles fill the air as he ignores my instruction and continues his lopsided figure eight. Slower on her shorter legs, Stella does her best to keep up. Topher reduces his run to a speed walk, a bright, mischievous smile on his face as he peers over his shoulder every other step to see if Stella is hot on his heels.

I set down the butter knife and abandon the crustless slices of bread to watch Topher and Stella play. Rambunctious as Topher is, he displays nothing but gentleness with Stella. The two of them are the complete opposite—loud and quiet, spontaneous and thoughtful, messy and tidy—but together, they mesh the better parts of themselves and act as one. Two peas in the cutest pod.

The day we brought Stella home from the hospital, snug in a soft white blanket with pink elephants and light blue flowers, a matching cap on her head, Topher bounced around us to get a look at his baby sister. We reminded him of our previous talk and how he needed to be careful with Stella. He had to talk a bit quieter with her until she was older. He had to hold her and touch her like the most delicate flower.

We’d parked him on the couch and surrounded him in throw pillows. The moment Madeline placed Stella in Topher’s arms, a softness I’d never seen from him took over his expression. Tears rimmed his hazel eyes as he shifted his gaze from me and Madeline to his baby sister. His chin wobbled as he stared down at Stella. He’d nibbled on his bottom lip for two breaths before releasing it. Then he said the most mature words for a toddler.

“I’m your big brother and your bestest friend.”

He’d pressed a kiss to her forehead, the tenderest smile on his lips when he straightened.

With Stella nestled in his lap, he’d sat in the same spot for hours. Hugged her close, but didn’t smother her. Neither of them wiggled to get free. Neither of them made a sound. Sporadically, Topher would kiss her head again, adjust his arms, or fix her blanket. Hours passed as they’d bonded as brother and sister, and it was the most beautiful sight.

Each day, their connection astounds me and Madeline. Two and a half years separate Topher and Stella, but nothing else will.

Madeline steps into the kitchen and sidles up next to me at the island. The corners of her mouth curve up as she watches Topher slow enough to let Stella catch him.

“You got me,” he states, planting his hands on his little hips.

Stella claps, proud of herself for nabbing her big brother in a game of chase. But the victory doesn’t last long.

Not a minute later, Topher reaches for either side of her rib cage and wiggles his tiny fingers over her most ticklish spots. Snort-giggles filter throughout the house as Stella tries and fails to pry his fingers from her sides. She drops to the floor, her pudgy cheeks red and blotchy as she laughs hysterically. The moment she is down, Topher takes off running, their little chase game far from done.

“No, no, TT,” Stella garbles out as she picks herself up off the floor and goes after her big brother. “I get you now,” she states as her little legs stutter forward and carry her as quickly as possible.

The first time we heard Stella call Topher TT, I’d corrected her. “It’s TJ, Stella bean. T-J.” Her sweet expression had scrunched together as if those two letters made no sense together. Then she’d said TT again, her stern appearance saying she was right and we were wrong. So we stopped correcting her.

A sigh leaves Madeline’s lips as she rests her head on my shoulder. “Hope they’re this cute forever.”

I press my lips to the top of her head, inhale her subtle apple fragrance, and kiss her hair. “Me too.”

Taking another minute to simply exist in the now, I hook an arm around Madeline’s waist. Tug her closer and twist us so we are face to face. Bringing a hand to her chin, I gently tip her head back. Graze the line of her jaw with my knuckles. Brush loose strands of her hair away from her temple and tuck them behind her ear. Get lost in her addictive, rich brown eyes.

Six years ago, I wouldn’t have pictured this as my life. Marriage and fatherhood. My romantic life had been far from impressive. After my one and only serious relationship fell apart, I steered away from attachments and people who squandered my music.

Before Madeline, I’d never wanted to keep someone. Not like I did her.

Madeline was—is—the game changer.

I’d lost her for a year. Fell into a dark abyss of longing and doubt. I’d questioned every minute we’d spent together. Questioned if it had actually happened. Then I’d looked at her painting. That single piece of art was the only tangible evidence I had that Madeline was real. And I’d clung to that proof with everything I had.

After organizing my show schedule to hit every city in a comfortable driving distance from the Soul Sanctuary Retreat, my persistence in locating Madeline had paid off. The moment we’d laid eyes on each other in the dim light of the swanky restaurant only miles away, not a day of our lives has existed without each other.

Though I’d had to continue my tour and leave Madeline’s side, she’d never been far. Between the calls, texts, FaceTime conversations, postcards, letters, and flowers, Madeline and I remained connected every minute during the longest three month stretch. I wanted to wrap her in my arms and never let go, but I’d had an obligation to fulfill.

Once the tour ended and I’d returned to her in Santa Rosa, we’d become inseparable. A unit. One soul split between two bodies, but never apart. Two hearts beating as one. I’d thought I knew love before Madeline, but I’d been wrong.

Until Madeline, a woman had never consumed me so meticulously. Taken over so thoroughly that I didn’t know how to breathe or think or feel without considering her. Every action and decision we make affects the other. If Madeline is the moon, I am the shifting of the tide.

Madeline is the epitome of beauty. Grace personified. Delicate and regal and pure. An exquisite woman with the kindest, gentlest soul. From the start, she’d fought against what she felt when we were together. But little by little, she’d opened her heart. Little by little, she’d captured my heart and cradled it like the most precious gift.

When Madeline loves, when she offers her heart… it is nothing short of magnificent.

I drop my lips to hers. Kiss her soft and sweet. Keep an arm around her waist while my free hand trails the length of her spine. Remind her, without words, she is the love of my life. The one person I refuse to exist without. The key to my heart and happiness.

Madeline is the reason I wake up each day. The reason my heart beats with purpose in my chest. The reason air fills my lungs. She inspires me to be a better man and an exceptional role model for our children. She is the creative influence behind every song I have written since the day we met.

Madeline Mae is my forever person and I am damn lucky I found her.

“I love you,” I whisper as my lips ghost hers.

Her fingers tighten their hold on the belt loops of my shorts. “Love you too.” She pushes up on her tiptoes and presses a chaste kiss to my lips. “I’ll finish up the sandwiches. You go double check the bags and wrangle the minions.”

A soft chuckle leaves my lips. I frame Madeline’s face in my palms and kiss the tip of her nose. “On it.” Reluctantly, I step away from my stunning wife and block the racetrack our children have created in the living room.

As Topher whips around the end of the couch, I scoop him up in my arms and tickle the spot on his leg that makes him squeal.

“Mommy says it’s time to check our bags.” I lift his shirt and blow a raspberry on his belly. “Stella’s turn.” Pinning Topher’s arms and legs with my arms, I squat down enough for Stella to tickle her big brother. Her dainty fingers jerk back-and-forth more than tickle, but Topher giggles as much for her as he did with me.

When their sweet laughter subsides, I set Topher on his feet and turn my attention to my baby girl. “Come on, Stella Mae.” I stand up and offer her my hand. “Show Daddy your pink suitcase.”

CHAPTER TWO

MADELINE

JITTERS HAVE my limbs shaking and fingers twisting with each mile marker we pass on the highway.

Topher and Stella sing and bop in the backseat while Fletcher sings next to me in the driver’s seat. While my two little snuggle bugs miss almost every word of “Paper Rings” by Taylor Swift, Fletcher doesn’t miss a beat. The deep timbre of his voice is a distinct contrast to the song, but one that makes my lips curve up and pulse soar.

Every chance Fletcher gets, his eyes are on me. With a soft smile on his ruggedly handsome face, my husband serenades me as if we are walking under the stars alone. No two days are the same with Fletcher. Each day, I fall more in love with him, his tenderness, his soul.

This man… my husband, my refuge, my heart.

The effervescent anxiety beneath my diaphragm settles a little. Fizzles enough for me to forget what has me on edge. My nervousness has nothing to do with Fletcher or the kids. Well, not directly.

I swivel to look out the passenger window and stare at the tall evergreens lining the highway. Study the lush greenery with too much interest. Twist my hands in my lap. Swallow past the ever-expanding lump in my throat as I spy the sign for our approaching exit.

Why am I so nervous?

As if he hears my thoughts, Fletcher reaches across the console and takes my hand. He laces his fingers with mine and holds my hand. The simple touch delivers unparalleled comfort. Wraps me in warmth similar to his embrace. Quiets all the rampant thoughts and relaxes my concerns.

“Everything okay?” he asks, voice only loud enough for me to hear.

I drag in a slow breath and twist to meet his waiting gaze. Instinct says to nod, to reassure him. But am I okay? Mostly, yes. But I refuse to deny that something about this trip has me antsy. On edge. Borderline nauseous.

Giving a half-hearted shrug, I reply, “Kind of.”

He lifts our joined hands and brings them to his lips. Kisses my knuckles, my engagement and wedding rings, the back of my hand. In three small kisses that feel anything but small, he erases the last of my restlessness. Wipes away all the tension.

The muscles in my shoulders loosen as my body sinks farther into the seat. Elbows resting on the console between our seats, Fletcher averts his gaze back to the road but keeps our fingers locked.

“Better?”

My eyes roam his profile and, for a moment, I simply admire the gorgeous man I get to call my husband. The firm line of his scruff-covered jaw. The glint of his dark green eyes behind the black frame of his glasses. The sharp angle of his nose and perfect bow of his lips. His long locks secured in a bun near his crown.

Damn, I am a lucky woman.

“Better,” I reassure him. “Thank you.”

Eyes on the road, he brings my hand back to his lips and kisses the top. “What has you so fidgety?”

He never misses my wringing hands or lip nibbles. Although he doesn’t always point out the nervous tics, his keen eye catches each one. Picks up each nuance, twitch, fumble, and sigh. It isn’t an invasion of my private thoughts; he is simply perceptive, especially with me and the kids.

“Aren’t you nervous?”

The corner of his mouth kicks up as his eyes dart my way for one, two, three seconds before returning to the road. “A little.” The calloused skin of his thumb softly strokes the length of mine. “But only because TJ and Stella are with us.”

Last month, Fletcher told me he had an idea for Topher’s fourth birthday. Tons of outdoor activities and trails. Roasting marshmallows and assembling s’mores by the fire. Kids’ workshops during the day, hours of swimming at the beach, and more. I tried, but had trouble picturing a place that would cater to a weekend with two children under the age of four, birthday celebrations, and the activities Fletcher mentioned.

Until he divulged it was the Soul Sanctuary Retreat. The isolated resort where we met. The place where I discovered it was possible to love again.

Immediately, I asked how having kids at a relaxing getaway was possible. Fletcher said he’d spoken with Jessimine, the retreat owner, before solidifying any plans. Jessimine jumped on board with the idea, so long as Topher and Stella minded their manners in the common areas.

Before Fletcher mentioned the idea to me, he asked Topher if it sounded fun. It is his birthday, after all. Fletcher recapped Topher’s reaction—his little fist pumping and hips wiggling before he promised to be a big boy and be on his best behavior. Then Fletcher divulged the epic birthday trip to me. It took him over an hour to convince me Jessimine said yes and Topher would behave.

Topher is more mature than boys his age, but it doesn’t erase the fact he is still a kid. My little man will go from calm to unrestrained in a blink if his wild child switch flips. More often than not, Topher and Stella are angels in public. I honestly believe they save their chaotic side for home.

“I hope they don’t break anything,” I say with a wince.

Fletcher chuckles. “They won’t, Maddie.”

Miles down the road, Fletcher flips the blinker, eases off the gas, and turns on to the lengthy two-lane drive toward the resort. With that single turn, my jitters return.

Last time I drove along this road, it had been months since Chris passed. My family paid for my stay in the hopes I would return home less melancholy, less mournful, less the grieving widow. In some regards, their wishes came true because I found Fletcher.

Without effort, Fletcher had awoken something inside me during our two weeks at Soul Sanctuary. Something that I believed to have died alongside Chris. My heart. A reason to wake up each day. Purpose.

Fletcher hadn’t done any one specific thing to revive my heart. He simply acted on instinct. An instinct that told him I needed him. Needed his strength and our quiet conversations. Needed our leisure strolls on the trails and an adventure in the canoe. Our nights by the bonfire and days in the painting room.

Those small moments added up. Those small moments brought me back to life.

My eyes drift to the tall redwoods bordering the road. The lush, dense forestry extends for miles and shades the earth. Foliage from an array of plants fill in the gaps of light with green and brown. I roll down the window, take a deep breath, and fill my lungs with the crisp, piney air. Let the sun warm my face and wind whip my hair.

A blue cloudless sky comes into view as the road splits and we approach the retreat. My eyes roam every trunk and limb, every bushy fern and dangling piece of moss, every edge and curve of the massive structure in front of us. I realize how much of this place I didn’t see years ago. Anxious as I am to return, I look forward to showing Topher and Stella the place where their parents met and started falling in love.

The backs of my eyes sting as my throat clogs with emotion. “Feels like coming home,” I whisper.

Fletcher stops beneath the tall, timber-framed carport and puts the car in park. Leaning over the console, he kisses me breathless. Has me melting into his touch, his warmth, his love.

“Daddy’s kissing Mommy,” Topher singsongs from the backseat. Beside him, Stella makes a kissy sound.

With a laugh, Fletcher breaks the kiss and backs away to face the kids. “That’s because Daddy loves Mommy very much.” Before either has the chance to tease more, Fletcher unbuckles his seat belt and opens the door. “Okay, everyone. Time to get out,” he says, clapping, then rubbing his hands together. He unloads our luggage from the back and parks it near the door. “You two wait with Mommy while I park the car.” He lays a hand over his heart. “Remember, best behavior.”

Topher and Stella mimic Fletcher and rest their little hands over their hearts. “Promise,” they say in unison.

As Fletcher steers the car toward the lot, the entrance to the retreat opens. I spin to see a smiling face I haven’t in years. Tears rim my eyes and my chin quivers as she opens her arms for a hug.

“Welcome back, Mrs. Lockwood.”

I step into Jessimine’s embrace as the first tear coats my cheek. Warm arms wrap around my middle and hold me close. In a blink, every concern I harbored about returning, about bringing Topher and Stella, vanishes.

“It’s good to be back.”

CHAPTER THREE

FLETCHER

OUR TIME here is exactly what we’d needed. One week of absolute bliss.

From the moment I mentioned the trip, Madeline had gone quiet. For days, she’d picked at her cuticles. When the kids got rambunctious, she’d admonished them more than usual.

It wasn’t about returning to Soul Sanctuary—where everything began for us. It was the first vacation with Topher and Stella that wasn’t child-centric. We spent previous excursions with them at Disney Land, Sea World, or beachside hotels. All places they could be their wild selves.

Though she was worried for days, I waited for her to speak up. And when she did, I wrapped her in my arms, held her to my chest, and whispered how much I loved her. It didn’t remove every ounce of worry, but it brought it to a low simmer.

This retreat will always be magical. The memories Madeline and I created here years ago; I never forgot a single one. Nothing can ruin those memories. Not even our spunky children.

Dinner on that first night, when my eyes roamed over a sea of unfamiliar faces gathered around the dining table… to this day, the sight of her delicate features and melancholy spirit still call to my heart. I hadn’t known the heartache and pain Madeline harbored. But I wanted to know. There isn’t anything I don’t want to know about her.

That first night was our beginning. The first domino to fall in a lifelong series.

Without effort, Madeline stole the breath from my lungs. To this day, she still does. Each day I wake up with her in my arms, I remind myself how lucky I truly am. I found her—not once, but twice. She opened her heart to me and let me in. She loved me as much as I loved her.

This place holds magic for us, and I think she feared the love we discovered here would no longer exist in the walls where we enjoyed meals together and painted portraits. Would no longer live in the trees shading the adventurous trails we hiked or in the flowering bushes that lined the cottages we slept in. Would be absent at the top of the tower we trekked during our canoe ride.

Three days ago, we’d ventured out with the kids. Showed them the first trail Madeline and I walked together. Shared our happy memories of this place.

As we’d approached the bridge along the trail, Madeline’s steps had slowed. She’d stopped midway across the bridge and, as she stared down at the bubbling stream below, I’d studied the contours of her profile. Leaned over the rail, she’d closed her eyes. Her hands had run along the wood grain as she’d inhaled deeply. With a shaky exhale, her entire body had unraveled. The softness of her shoulders and slight upward curve of her lips told me all I needed to know.

Madeline felt it. In this wondrous place, our haven still existed.

The undercurrent, the energy, the magnetism of this place hadn’t faded. As we’d stood on that bridge, the air buzzed around us. While Topher and Stella had pointed out wildlife and plants with their favorite new sticks, Madeline and I’d locked eyes and reminisced. We’d spoken a silent language that existed only between us.

Madeline worried herself sick for days about returning. Now, as I lace my fingers with hers and meet her soulful brown eyes as we walk the same trail, I hear her unspoken thoughts.

She never wants to leave.

Me either.

I lift her hand to my lips and kiss the back before kissing her ring finger. “Tomorrow’s our last day. What should we do?”

We have spent most of our time beachside. With her love for the water, we agree Stella was a mermaid in a previous life. Topher loves to swim, but not like his little sister. The canoe ride and hiking trails ranked higher on his fun list, but he never complained when Stella asked to swim.

“Messy as it’ll be, I’d love to visit the painting room.” She leans into me and rests her head on my biceps as the trail opens up and the retreat comes into view. “I don’t care if their canvases are nothing but blobs and smears of color, I want to hang them next to ours at home.”

Paintings from our first visit hang near the entry of our home. Warm light beams down on each and emphasizes our love for one another, even before we admitted it. After we parted from the retreat, she’d hung my painting of her on the wall in her house and I’d taken hers of me everywhere I went. They were a lifeline between us. An invisible thread that kept us tethered in the physical plane.

Those two paint-slicked canvases are more valuable than any store-bought gift. The next best gift would be to add paintings by our children.

“Then we’ll paint after breakfast.”

MADELINE BOOKMARKS her page and sets her book on the nightstand as I enter the room. “Are they asleep?”

I tug the elastic from my hair and shake out my locks. “Yeah. Zonked out before I finished the book.”

Fisting the collar at the back, I strip off my shirt. My shorts drop seconds later and I toss both in the basket. I pull back the covers and shimmy in beside Madeline. Before I get the chance to scoot to her side of the bed, she moves to mine, takes off my glasses, and sets them on the nightstand.

Soft fingers trace the line of my brow to my temple, steadily moving down to the angle of my jaw. She curls the tips of her fingers slightly and scrapes the thick scruff of my beard until she reaches my chin. A hint of lust darkens her soft brown irises.

“Love you,” I rasp. Then I inch forward and press my lips to hers.

Her palm coasts up my cheek, her fingers threading through my hair as she sighs. Beneath the covers, I band an arm around her waist. Tug her forward and press my front to hers. She licks the seam of my lips, and I groan, parting my lips to taste her. I flip her on to her back and pin her to the mattress with my body.

Before Madeline, I’d heard several woeful tales from friends and colleagues about their long-term relationships. Falling out of love. Falling out of like. Losing interest in each other and in the bedroom.

After I reconnected with Madeline, I never pictured us taking a path that would lead toward the end. Our love supersedes everything. The connection we share rivals love itself.

We love our children. Would do anything for them.

But without each other, everything dims in comparison.

Madeline is the sun. Radiant and warm. Necessary and all-encompassing. Everything I need and want and crave. She pulls me in, holds me close, and refuses to let go.

And she is mine. My best friend. My confidant. My lover. My wife.

Without her, life would be unstable. Broken. Unthinkable. She is my first thought in the morning and last before I fall asleep. Nothing will change that. Ever.

I trail my hand up her thigh, inching up the silky nightgown blanketing her skin. Her thumbs hook the back of my underwear and slip them down past my glutes until her hands no longer reach. Breaking the kiss, I wiggle free of them and rest my hips in the cradle of hers. Trace a finger along the apple of her cheek. Stare down at the woman I never want to live without.

“Love you so damn much,” I whisper over her lips.

She cups my cheek. Strokes the edge of my beard with her thumb. “Love you too.”

And then we get lost in each other for hours.

CHAPTER FOUR

MADELINE

“ANGEL,” Stella says in her whimsical voice as she points to the canvas.

All I see are blue squiggles, white stripes, and yellow dots. I tilt my head and narrow my eyes, looking for her angel in the art. But I still don’t see it.

“It’s beautiful, Stella bean.”

While Fletcher helps Stella clean up her art supplies, Topher sidles up to me at the easel. Mimicking me, he cocks his head and studies Stella’s art project. Then he shrugs.

“Maybe it’s her angel man,” he says with an air of nonchalance.

Something about the way he acknowledges his sister’s angel flips my stomach upside-down. I think back to when the kids and I visited friends or family. Search through the faces and hunt for unfamiliar men. Strangers Stella interacted with. But no one comes to mind.

“Her angel man?”

Topher closes the paint cap and sets it in the tub. “Mm-hmm. He’s nice.”

I take paintbrushes from the water cup and dry the bristles on a towel. “Do I know the angel man?”

He shrugs and parks on the chair in front of his easel. “She said he watches over all of us. That he loves us.”

I gasp at his statement. Blink repeatedly, the backs of my eyes stinging. My eyes dart across the table to Fletcher as emotion swells in my throat. Without a doubt, he heard Topher tell me about Stella’s angel man.

Fletcher scoops Stella up and sets her on his lap. Brushes wayward strands of her hair from her face. Kisses her temple. “How did you meet your angel, Stella bean?” Fletcher asks as he wipes a dab of paint from her cheek.

A paintbrush in each hand, she crisscrosses them in the air without a care. “Sleepy time.”

Sparkling green eyes meet mine. “You see your angel when you sleep?”

She drops the brushes. “Angel,” she exclaims, throwing her arms in the air. Then she wiggles out of Fletcher’s hold and off his lap.

Too stunned to move, Fletcher and I remain rooted to the spot while the kids haphazardly clean.

“Can’t be,” I mumble at the same time Fletcher says, “Is it…”

With each passing day, I hear Chris less. Not because I no longer love him. There will always be room in my heart for my first love, my first husband. But waking up to Fletcher, Topher, and Stella in my life each morning, the void I felt when Chris died has receded.

Photos of him still reside in our home, tucked away with other keepsakes. As Topher aged and his curiosity expanded, I didn’t want to confuse him with pictures of his mommy and another man. So, I tucked them away. In the future, when our children ask how we fell in love, I will pull out the pictures and share how I wouldn’t have found their dad without first loving Chris.

It feels odd to have every physical memory and piece of Chris in a box or photo album. I haven’t forgotten him, nor has Fletcher. And we never will.

“Do you think it’s him?” I nibble my bottom lip. “Chris?” I clarify.

Fletcher moves around the table, eats up the space between us in steady strides, bands his arms around my middle, and hugs me tight. “Not sure.” He kisses my crown. “But it wouldn’t surprise me.” Inching back, Fletcher frames my face in his hands. “Chris loved you so much, Maddie. To think he’s still with you, with us, watching over our babies too…” Glassy green eyes meet my gaze. “He was a good man, and I’d want no one else looking over TJ and Stella.”

A tear rolls down my cheek as I nod. “Me either.”

Few in our circle know I still occasionally speak with Chris. Talking to your deceased husband ranks high on the maybe she should take medication list. Fletcher is aware and accepts that I will always talk to Chris. Mostly, I tell Chris about things he’d be proud of me doing. Taking steps I might not have without Fletcher at my side.

And though Chris “answers,” I no longer hear his voice. No longer remember if it’s deep or soft. Seeing Chris is easier. I can refresh my mental image of him by opening a box or album and looking at photos. But his voice is harder to hear after several years. I could pull out the video from our wedding and hit play, but I won’t.

I will never forget Chris, the kindness of his heart, or the gentleness of his soul. But I vowed years ago to no longer live in the past. When Fletcher appeared in my life—both times—I gave myself permission to move forward. To live again. To love again.

My past will never fade completely. But since Fletcher, my past is no longer a looming dark cloud. With Fletcher, my life and heart are whole.

Chris may have been my first love, but Fletcher is my present, my future, and everything in between.

Pushing up on my toes, I press a chaste kiss to his lips. “Love you, Mr. Lockwood.”

Fletcher cups my cheek, his thumb softly stroking my chin as he holds my stare. “Love you the most, Mrs. Lockwood.”

FLETCHER’S SONG FOR MADELINE

Chapter thirteen of Transcendental, after a year apart, Madeline and Fletcher see each other again. She is with family and on a blind date in a restaurant Fletcher is performing at. During his performance, you get a glimpse of a song he wrote with Madeline in mind. I completed the song and add it to this bonus content. Hope you love it!

It’s all so dreamlike.

A figment.

A trick of the mind.

I still feel… your warm skin near mine.

Apple blossoms and rich brown eyes.

Swirls of paint and perfect blue skies.

Oh, how I wish… I should have stolen your kiss.

Under the dark of night, I never should have left your side.

Yellow buttercups.

Blazing snapdragon fire.

In another life.

Your breath hot on my skin.

In another life.

I wish you would have let me in.

Oh, how I wish… I should have stolen your kiss.

My heart stopped that day… when you walked away.

You abandoned with no goodbye.

My heart shattered with no reason why.

Oh, how I wish… I should have stolen your kiss.

What I wouldn’t give… for one last chance.

All I want… just one more chance.

Just one kiss.

Just one.

One-click Transcendental

About the Author

Persephone Autumn lives in Florida with her wife, crazy dog, and two lover-boy cats. A proud mom with a cuckoo grandpup. An ethnic food enthusiast who has fun discovering ways to veganize her favorite non-vegan foods. If given the opportunity, she would intentionally get lost in nature.

For years, Persephone did some form of writing; mostly journaling or poetry. After pairing her poetry with images and posting them online, she began the journey of writing her first novel.

She mainly writes romance and poetry, but on occasion dips her toes in other works. Look for her non-romance titles under P. Autumn.

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THE WHISPER CHAIN

R. CASTRO

SANDRA BRISEÑO STARED, teary-eyed, out from within a medical building seven floors up into Union Bay. She had spent her young life catering to her parents’ every whim. A good girl from good society was expected to behave and look a certain way. She was supposed to do just enough, so that it didn’t give the appearance of trying too hard while really trying hard behind the scenes.

The Briseño family were pillars of the small community from which they hailed in Mexico’s rustic Sierra Madre Mountains. They didn’t live lavishly. That was left to the families of newer money, often obtained via questionable means.

No, Sandra’s family were too pious for such scenarios. They were good Roman Catholics, who tithed and supported the church, community, and politics. Oh, yes. They loved their politics, even though they rarely expressed as much outside of the confinement of the family estate, where Doña Marcela, the matriarch of the Briseño family, and Sandra’s beloved grandmother, lived.

JULY

HORTENCIA, Sandra’s mom, sneered at her. “Stop slouching and suck in your gut.”

Sandra, who’d been picking out a serrano pepper seed from her nail bed, immediately snapped to attention. “Mama, I’m doing something. Can’t you see?”

Hortencia rolled her eyes and looked at her mother-in-law, Doña Marcela, who was watching the exchange from a chair in the main adobe kitchen she’d refused to have updated and was suddenly en vogue again. “Do you see, Doña, what I’m expected to put up with? She must have the last word, unlike her brothers. They don’t talk back to me.”

Sandra stopped picking at her nail and moved to the sink to rinse her hands off. “That’s because you have a double standard for them and me. But we don’t talk about that, do we?”

Doña Marcela let out a deep chuckle. “No, mija, no one ever wants to discuss the misogynistic double standards we place on the genders. That much is true. However, you’re younger and poised to make a difference in your life. You’ll be the first of the Briseño women to go off to college. College,” she said, her eyes brimming with tears. “I never believed I’d live to witness one of my girls leave the comforts of our family and head out into the world, on her own.”

Hortencia pushed a wooden batea filled with corn masa she’d been kneading for tortillas. In the Briseño family, women were expected to do their own cooking without outside help. “Doña Marcela, with all due respect, there are reasons the girls don’t go off to college or worse, to explore the world alone. So much can happen. Women simply are not as strong as men. Besides, you know how everyone around here is? People talk. A lot. And any girl who has ever left town unwed is talked about, because heaven knows what happens when she’s not under the careful and watchful eyes of her parents.” She wiped sweat from her forehead with her apron. “I’m not in agreement with Sandra leaving. In fact, I don’t know that your son is fully on board either. We all respect you, Doña, and we are giving Sandra the opportunity to at least try, but don’t think for one moment that we won’t bring her back at the first sign of trouble.”

Doña Marcela grinned while she listened to her daughter-in-law assert herself. She knew Hortencia meant well. After all, that was what all proper girls were taught from an early age where they lived: to raise a good family and ensure everyone stayed out of trouble, especially the sort that could bring shame to their family.

Sandra let out an exasperated sigh. “Mama, you act like I’m going to leave home and go on a party binge.”

“You don’t know what you’re capable of until you find yourself with so much freedom that it becomes intoxicating. That’s when trouble will find you,” Hortencia said as she moved toward the open side of the kitchen where the chimenea burned hot embers under the massive round comal.

Doña Marcela slowly stood and moved carefully to the sink to wash her hands. She’d be making the tortillas. While her ailing body prevented her from much else, she at least maintained enough strength to make tortillas, occasionally, for her family. “Trust your daughter, Hortencia. Believe in her. And remember, she’s growing up in a vastly different world than the one we grew up in.”

Sandra helped her grandmother get into her comfortable working mode and adjusted the tortilla press just the way she liked it. The old woman opened the press and removed the clean, folded plastic that would serve as the barrier between the masa and the wooden press. She smiled warmly at her granddaughter. “You’ll do fine.”

She motioned for Hortencia to bring her the batea of masa. The old woman began smacking the masa, a habit she’d picked up from her grandmother back during World War II, when she was a little girl, and they’d had no real idea of what was happening around the world. It came later that a then young Marcela learned of what had happened while she’d lived comfortably in the Mexican mountains of southern Zacatecas state. Marcela smiled to herself, recalling how that story had puzzled Sandra, considering the technological advances from less than one hundred years earlier were so much less sophisticated then.

PRESENT DAY

SANDRA SHOOK AWAY the memories and returned to a cold, vacant chair in the empty lobby and dared peel back the layers of her more recent past.

SEPTEMBER

GUADALAJARA, Jalisco was a three-hour drive from where Sandra grew up. It was a city she visited often and loved. It was home to tequila, mariachi, and charreria, the country’s official national sport. Guadalajara was posh and very cosmopolitan but deeply steeped in tradition as well. And she could never get enough.

When she’d arrived in Guadalajara, at the house where her parents had arranged for her to stay with family, Sandra had been excited for the next phase of her young life.

Her parents set everything up for Sandra to stay with relatives. They paid the relatives quite well, so Sandra wasn’t an imposition. But the honeymoon at her distant relative’s house was over before it had begun. No sooner had her parents departed than her aunt had established a separate set of rules for Sandra to abide by.

Sandra’s aunt spouted out rule after rule. “You do not go into the kitchen past dinner. If you’re not home in time for dinner, the kitchen is closed. You are not to use the shower before six in the morning.” It baffled Sandra since she needed to be out of the house before six, to catch her first bus to get her across the city where she’d catch the second bus that would deliver her a block from her university. “If no one is home or if only the men are home, you wait outside on the front patio.”

The rules seemed archaic. Still, Sandra was a paying guest in their home, nonetheless, so she quietly complied, until the weight of school, commuting, and lack of proper sleeping and meals caught up. She was wasting away, and miserable. The long commute to and from her school only exasperated the matter.

JANUARY

SANDRA WAS CATCHING up with her cousin Beatriz, who was Hortencia’s youngest sister’s daughter. Most of Hortencia’s family were in the United States, and Sandra, having been born in the U.S. when her parents had still lived there, visited as often as she could. Since Beatriz was Sandra’s age, the two got along great.

“Come here,” her cousin Beatriz insisted. “Come to Seattle. You can stay at my parent’s or with me. I have a one-bedroom apartment. We can make it work until we figure something else out.”

Sandra didn’t want to return home. She knew that outside of her immediate family, there was no real future for her there. Within time, everyone would expect her to get back together with her ex and get married. But that wasn’t what she wanted. Sandra wanted to live more, explore, study, and travel. She wanted to meet new people outside of those she grew up with. She wanted to date men other than the ones she’d known since childhood. Sandra simply wanted more substance in her life and going home felt like a dead end.

FEBRUARY

“PAPA, I’m going with or without your blessing. But I’d rather have it,” she said to her father, who quietly listened to her reasoning. In the background, her mother began irately squawking like a bird being flung around.

Ignacio, her father, cleared his throat. “You have my blessing and my support. Just promise me, Sandra, that you will be careful. You are a bright, young woman, but a predator has much more street savvy than you can possibly fathom. You must always think ahead for your safety because no one will protect you.”

APRIL

SANDRA HAD TAKEN her father’s words to heart and in the beginning, she truly did move about skittishly in her unfamiliar environment as if someone were about to come out of the shadows, until her cousin pointed it out, and Sandra had felt ashamed with her behavior. “There’s a fine balance,” Beatriz had said. “You’ll learn it. Always pay attention to your gut but also, don’t allow it to cripple you.”

What was that about the gut?

Sandra had signed up for the local community college and found a part-time job. It wouldn’t be enough money if she had to do it on her own. Thankfully, however, her father had agreed to cover her tuition, rent, and all other expenses.

The first two months she’d acclimated and assimilated. By June, she was moving about more comfortably with her newfound freedom. And by July, the calls home had dwindled, and her parents had paid her an unannounced visit. They’d stayed with Hortencia’s sister and her family, and Sandra had been available to visit with them as much as she could. Once Ignacio and Hortencia recognized that their daughter was going to be fine, they left and didn’t complain when she didn’t call on a regular basis as she’d done in the beginning. “She’s going to be all right,” Ignacio had said to Hortencia, offering her the needed reassurance.

By August, Sandra was working a full-time schedule and juggling a work, life, and school balance quite nicely. Her parents hadn’t liked that she was sleeping on a sofa, which Sandra hadn’t minded and had sent her money so she and Beatriz could move into a two-bedroom apartment, which she’d gladly accepted.

Beatriz let out an obnoxious, croaky sound that Sandra believed sounded like a dying rooster. Her cousin made the sound whenever she was excited, but Sandra assured her it did not sound like a happy rooster. “It sounds like death. Like someone is choking an animal, and that is the last sound they’d make before any more air is able to move through.”

Beatriz laughed and croaked even more at Sandra’s comment. “We’ll need help moving. My dad said he can help, but he doesn’t have a truck and I don’t want to rent one since Jason has a truck. And Jason said he can get a friend to help.” Jason was Beatriz’s boyfriend. They were high school sweethearts. He’d gone to the University of Washington while Beatriz had attended Seattle University for the nursing program.

Sandra shrugged. “If he doesn’t mind,” she said, looking around the place. “It’s not like we have a lot of stuff anyway.”

They found a place as quickly as Sandra had received the money. Thankfully, Beatriz had been on a month-to-month lease, and the apartment manager hadn’t minded that she was giving less than a thirty-day notice. The duo found a place in the Beacon Hill area of Seattle. It wasn’t the nicest place, but it was still affordable and up-and-coming.

Butterflies jittered in Sandra’s stomach as she and her cousin prepared for their move. It was the type of adulting she’d always envisioned. She loved the diversity of Seattle. It was such a melting pot of people and culture, where everything and everyone seamlessly weaved in and out, creating a beautiful tapestry of vibrancy.

SEPTEMBER

JASON BUMPED into Sandra in the stairwell of the old apartment as she took boxes down to the recycle bin. “Hey, you! Are you guys ready? I’ve brought some muscle,” he teased.

Sandra looked past his shoulder and was mesmerized by the gorgeous, green-eyed guy who was climbing the stairs just behind him.

The guy blushed. “Hey, I’m Jude.”

Sandra forgot how to speak. She opened and closed her mouth but words failed her. Jason laughed. “I’m going to head up. Is Beatriz there?”

Sandra nodded.

Jason turned slightly and looked over his shoulder. “Why don’t you help Sandra with those boxes?”

“My pleasure,” Jude said, reaching to take the boxes from her.

Sandra let go too quickly. The boxes went sliding down the stairs, forcing her and Jude to chase after them. “Sorry,” she said when they reached the bottom landing.

He smiled. Deep, prominent dimples appeared on either side of his cheeks. “It happens.” He retrieved the boxes and waited so they could exit the building together.

“The bins are over there,” Sandra said, pointing out to the left of the building.

PRESENT DAY

SANDRA SUCKED IN A DEEP BREATH, recalling upon the moment she and Jude first met. Her thoughts were interrupted by a woman who poked around the lobby reception window. “Ms., it’ll be another few minutes before the doctor will see you,” she said in a nasally voice.

Sandra nodded. “Thank you.” She pulled out her phone and checked the time. Her appointment wasn’t for another ten minutes anyway, but she’d been so nervous and anxious that she arrived earlier than expected.

TWO WEEKS EARLIER

TWO WEEKS EARLIER, Sandra had difficulty focusing and her typical bubbly personality had turned unusually moody. Jude and she were spending as much free time with each other as they could. Sometimes double dating with Beatriz and Jason but mostly alone. Sandra didn’t think they were formally dating, since they’d never really had the conversation to assign it an official label. She figured that was key in formalizing the relationship.

She blushed at the thought of the need for formalities, considering she’d lost her virginity to him.

She recalled the day when Beatrice and Jason were out of town that weekend and Jude was over to watch a movie. It was so cliché that Sandra couldn’t get over her embarrassment.

She had no clue what she was doing, but it was abundantly evident to her that Jude did.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he said, pushing loose strands of hair from her face.

She smiled nervously. “I want to… But this is my first time.” Sandra wasn’t sure how he would react. But she also didn’t want him to stop. She was ready. With every fiber of her being, in that moment, she was absolutely ready.

Jude paused. “Are you sure you want this moment to be with me?” His feline eyes captured the illumination of the lamp, sending a pleasurable shiver down Sandra’s spine.

“Yes,” she nodded.

Jude carefully took her in his arms and slowly kissed her on the lips. His mouth moved sensually over hers, then down her neck. Her skin was covered in goosebumps as he deliberately pulled her in tighter with one arm while his free hand moved under her blouse and camisole and found her chest.

Sandra gasped and tensed for a brief second, then gradually relaxed under his touch. His fingers circled her skin, and she felt drunken in pleasure. She pulled away from him for a split second to remove both tops and quickly nestled more comfortably into his lap while he removed his shirt.

Her heart skipped a beat.

She had seen her brothers shirtless, but those were her brothers and there was nothing attractive about that. Jude, however, with his taut muscles, caused her pulse to race. Sandra pulled him in and allowed him to absorb her as her back arched under his arm. “More,” she whispered.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she pulled him in hard to feel his bare chest on her skin. His warmth was exhilarating, and it surprised her how quickly her body responded to his touch.

Jude lifted her effortlessly and carried her to the bed, where he carefully laid her down and removed her jeans, then his own.

Sandra pulled her long, dark, wavy locks from under her while he fidgeted with something she couldn’t see, and then joined her.

He grinned. “I’ll take my time. Just tell me if you want me to stop.” He said the latter more seriously.

And she beamed as she threw herself wildly into the moment.

PRESENT DAY

SHE SMILED TO HERSELF, thinking back to that night. They’d slept and woken up several times. And she’d enjoyed every moment he with her.

Jude had used protection that night and every time after.

Sandra had requested Beatriz’s help with getting on the pill. And Beatriz, without question or judgment, had gladly done so. And all was glorious in Sandra’s life, until it wasn’t…

November

Sandra was living her new life and doing a job she’d never expected to find somewhat fulfilling. She worked at a popular, downtown Seattle restaurant where the tips alone were enough to cover all her living expenses and left a little extra for her to save. As she was working in the bar, a thought occurred to her, stopping her dead in her tracks. She rushed out through the backdoor of the restaurant and pulled out her phone and opened her calendar.

She was late. Sandra’s period was two weeks late. She felt the ground open beneath her but quickly snapped out of the moment and scrambled back into restaurant and tracked down her manager. “I’m not feeling good. I need to go.” Fear moved through her like a raging wildfire.

He took a good look at her. “Yeah, you look like you’re going to be sick. Go on, it’s not too busy tonight. Transfer your tables and check in with me tomorrow. Get some rest.”

Sandra dashed to her car, fumbling with the key fob, then drove directly to the hilltop grocery store close to the apartment. She hurried towards the section with the home pregnancy tests. Her heart threatened to breach her chest cavity. The tests were kept behind lock and key, so she hurriedly tracked down an associate who opened the case and assisted with the checkout but not before she added a bottle of water. She would need to pee, and the water would help fill her bladder more quickly.

Beatriz was at work and wouldn’t be home for another couple of hours. “Good,” she said to herself. She needed the privacy. Sandra needed much more than privacy. She needed a negative test result.

Sandra guzzled the water before she made it back to her little car, then sped straight to the apartment, parking quickly in her spot, then rushed up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Overcome with a feeling of lightheadedness, she poured a glass of water from the refrigerator filter and chugged more. “Come on, come on,” she said to her body, willing pressure on her bladder.

In the meantime, Sandra carefully read the instructions. They were straight forward. Easy.

THE FOLLOWING MORNING, she sent Jude a text at six.

He immediately replied. Hey, beautiful. Good morning.

She replied. I’m not going to school today. We need to talk. It’s important. Please.

He replied. Skipping out, are you? He included a laughing emoji.

Sandra took a deep breath. She wasn’t going to tell him via text. No. I’m not okay.

He replied. Are you all right? Safe? I don’t have classes this morning. I’m heading over. See you in twenty.

Thanks, she hit send and tossed her phone to the side.

Beatriz peeked into her room. “You don’t look ready for school.” Her eyes darted around Sandra’s bedroom and finally settled on her. “Are you all right?”

Sandra pulled herself up onto her elbows. “Just under the weather. I might be coming down with something. After all, Seattle is much colder and wetter than my body is used to. So, I’m going to stay home today.” She had not seen Beatriz the night before as she had locked her door and cried herself to sleep.

Beatriz furrowed her brow. “You were home early, weren’t you?”

Sandra nodded.

“Well, I need to go, but I’ll check in on you later. If you need anything let me know, and I’ll grab it on my way home,” Beatriz said and waited for a moment. “Okay. I’m headed out.”

“Have a good day,” Sandra replied as she fell back onto the bed. Tears threatened to surface as she fought back the urge to scream.

Her heart pounded against her chest and fear seeped through every inch of her body. Sandra had spent the entire night crying and battling with inner rage at her stupidity. How could I have been so careless? And the thought of her family’s disappointment only made everything worse.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d battled with the looming threat of crying again, when her phone vibrated.

A message from Jude. I’m here. Jude said. Heading up.

She held the door open as he rushed in and swept her into his arms. Sandra sobbed into his shoulder.

“Honey? Babe?” He spoke. “What’s the matter?” He carried her to the sofa.

Sandra took control of her breathing. “Wait here,” she said and disappeared to her bedroom. When she returned, she was holding something wrapped in toilet paper.

Jude gave her a quizzical look. “What’s this?” he said as he watched her suck in a deep breath while handing him the strange bundle. He carefully pulled back the layers of toilet paper until he found a purple and white stick with a small window and digital reading. Pregnant.

He stared at the stick without blinking until he finally met Sandra’s eyes. No words were necessary as they both sat in silent disbelief. Jude finally laid the stick down on the floor beside him and took Sandra into his arms. “What do you want to do?” he said softly.

She pulled back. “What do you mean?”

Jude looked around the room, nervously pushing his fingers through his messy deep-red hair. “I mean, I’ll support whatever decision you want to make. Of course, we’ll need to discuss planning if you choose to keep it —”

Fury raged through Sandra as she cut him off and shot back. “Choose to keep it? Are you kidding me right now? What other choice do I have?” she screamed. But something inside her felt differently. Not only was Jude supporting her, but for the first time in the last twelve plus hours she realized, she had a choice. But did she really? Abortion wasn’t something acceptable in her family or where she was from. It wasn’t really a choice.

Sandra pushed the thought away and wondered what Jude thought of her. “There is no other choice. We did this. We need to make it right.”

Jude stood. He paced the length of the living room, back and forth, until he stopped in front of the window. It was a typical Seattle November day: drizzling outside, and the sky so overcast the gloom sifted through. It was cold enough to justify walking around with a warm drink in hand. Not that anyone ever needed an excuse. The holidays were quickly upon them, and he was looking forward to surprising Sandra with a trip to his parent’s cabin in the Cascade Mountains. Jude had strong feelings for Sandra: more than he’d ever had for any woman. I’m in love with her, he thought to himself. But as he pondered in his emotions, the thought of a baby made everything extremely real and urgent. He was a senior, getting ready to graduate and had an excellent job offer awaiting him, immediately after graduation with Blue Origin, Jeff Bezos’ aerospace company. His years of arduous work and focus to become an Aerospace Engineer had paid off, especially because aerospace was something he was enthusiastic about. Love had not been in his immediate plans. Yet alone a baby.

Sandra watched him. Just the thought that he’d suggested she not have the baby made her sick. “My family…” she said, breaking down into tears. Her body fell limply onto the sofa, and she sobbed hysterically. “I’m going to be the shame of my family. I did exactly what my mom said girls who leave their home do. I’m such a disgrace. I’ll never be able to go back.” A million thoughts ran rampant through her brain. She would be the main source of gossip for the people of her small community in Mexico. That’s what happened when a girl from there made any sort of mistake.

Mistake. Sandra pondered on the word. Only we women are vehemently othered for what everyone else considers a mistake. Because babies are blessings. And sure, maybe they are at the right time. But then what of having premarital sex? I did that and look where it got me? But if it had been either of my brothers, society would look at them differently. Not me, though. I’m just going to have to walk around with a big, red scarlet letter on my chest for the rest of my life. That no matter what I do to redeem myself, I’ll always be the girl who left home and got pregnant. Further proving to the people of my community that what they’ve long believed to be true: women are ruined once they step foot away from home and the watchful eyes of their families. Unwed and illy prepared. My mother’s worst nightmare.

Jude rushed to her side. “No. Don’t say that, Sandra. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. You’re not alone. We’re just going to have to figure this all out, because raising a baby is not cheap nor is it easy. Plus, we’re both in school. Granted, I’m a senior, so I’ll be graduating soon. But you’re just starting, so we’ll have to figure out how to make it work so you don’t miss too much school when you have the baby.” He smiled. His beautiful, dimpled, freckled face was one of hope. “We are not the first nor will we be the last.”

Sandra composed herself enough to reach her hand out and touch his face. “But how can you be with someone you don’t love?”

The tension Jude carried suddenly subsided. “Who said I haven’t already fallen in love with you?”

Sandra wept. “Really?”

He nodded.

She cleared her throat. “This is all so much. What was I thinking?”

“Hey,” Jude said, gently caressing her face. “You didn’t do this alone. And you’re not going to get through this alone.”

They held each other until Sandra’s stomach grumbled loudly. She laughed. “I’d like to blame it on the baby, but I think that’s just me.”

Jude helped her up to her feet. “Well, let’s get the two of you something to eat.”

Later that day, Sandra placed a call to Mexico. It wasn’t to her parents. It was to her grandmother. “Mama Marcela,” she said. Her voice cracked.

“Que pasa, mi niña?” the old woman replied.

“I…” the words were difficult to speak, but Sandra forged through. “I’m…” she paused. “I don’t know how to say it,” she said, breaking down. “There’s a… baby.” She cried.

Marcela listened to her granddaughter sob. She didn’t need Sandra to say another word. She understood as angst moved through her tired body. “It’s all right, Sandra. It’s all right, mija. Take a deep breath.” She listened for Sandra’s breathing. “That’s right. Keep doing that.” After a few moments, she continued. “Sandra, you don’t have to say another word. I know why you’ve called me, and what I have to say might surprise you.” The woman sucked in a deep breath. “You have options. Safer options than the many women before you. Whatever you do, you will be forever changed. I can assure you of this. Because you’ll grow from it. Having said that, nowadays, no one needs to know what you do with your body. It is no one’s business. Back in my time, we’d secretly send the message through the whisper chain that we needed something like Black Cohosh or any of the other home remedies used.”

Sandra’s jaw dropped. “Mama Marcela, are you telling me that —”

Marcela laughed into the receiver. “Oh, mija. Yes. I’m telling you that women have always found ways to have a little more control over their bodies, because not everyone could manage the number of pregnancies we were expected to endure, for many reasons. Most of these women were married, but they knew they were not in a financial place to raise one more child, despite what the church encouraged. Those times were quite different. Yet, we’ve always found ways to quietly defy the expectations imposed on us with little to no say. We learned to hold these truths tightly to our chest. We had to, or we faced the wrath of the church, our spouses, and the community. What we did for each other in secrecy, we protected for the survival of all women.”

Sandra noticed a somberness in her grandmother’s truth.

The old woman cleared her throat. “Our lives were different then. The times we lived in were different. The church had a stronghold over our lives. Still, there are many who persecute those who choose to better their lives. I understand where they are coming from, but I cannot support certain ideologies that disproportionately affect women. We are no longer in the dark ages. All things aside, including the church, it is your body, mija. It is your choice and only your choice. And while it will not be an easy one, remember, no matter what you decide to do, you must pick yourself up and trudge forth with purpose for your life and those you choose to hold dearly.” Marcela sighed. “You are meant to live a beautiful, thriving life, designed by only you,” she paused. “I love you, mi Sandrita. With all my heart. And I will support whatever decision you make. I just ask you, whatever you choose, do so for yourself. Don’t mind the family. I’ll deal with them if that’s the path you choose. Otherwise, like I said, no one needs to know. It is your body, your choice.” She hesitated for a moment, and continued. The strong assertiveness in her voice was gone, replaced by a mere whisper. “I’m sorry that the first important adult decision in your life is one of the hardest you’ll ever have to make.”

PRESENT DAY

A SINGLE TEAR fell from one of Sandra’s eyes as she recalled the conversation with her grandmother.

The lobby door opened, and Jude walked in. He sat beside her and took her hand in his. “I’m glad you got up here first because I didn’t think I was going to find a parking spot. Are you okay?”

Sandra pondered on the question. Are you okay?

TWO WEEKS EARLIER

DAYS EARLIER, she could not fathom doing what she was about to do. She’d always believed it was a sin, and maybe it was, how could she truly know? Still, her entire life, she had quietly known she supported a women’s right to choose. She, like other women believed, there were extremely specific circumstances where choice was necessary: the mother’s health, a non-viable baby, rape, incest… In Sandra’s mind, those were all sad yet sound reasons. However, once faced with the harsh reality of her choices, Sandra was not truly sure how she felt. Sandra’s immediate gut reaction was to keep the baby and endure the wrath of family shame. But it was the conversation with her grandmother that got her thinking.

Sandra spent that night after speaking to her Mama Marcela, contemplating her future and her ideological beliefs. She’d always known she wasn’t as devout as others, more so since she typically did the bare minimum to support the church and didn’t always agree with the direction some of the ecclesiastical leaders directed toward the parishioners. She also struggled with the hypocrisy among the churchgoers, even in her small community. The hypocrisy was rampant with the do as I say not as I do, posturing. And most especially the level of chauvinistic favoring of the male species. Which Sandra was all too familiar with, especially because her parents were blatant in how they viewed her brothers, versus how they viewed her. Although, she did have to give her father credit. Ignacio had at least listened to Sandra’s grievances and tried to change. If he hadn’t, she would never have found herself in the predicament she was in. But despite it all, Sandra had choices. And while she knew an abortion wasn’t the answer to everyone’s situation, she knew if she chose to keep the baby, it would change her life forever: for better for worse. And while Jude was willing to be involved, she didn’t even want to consider that option, because life had an interesting way of pivoting. So, her choice had to consider Sandra standing alone, with a child. Yet despite all the self-reasoning, she circled back to her biggest dilemma. How will this impact my family? That weighed heavily on her conscience. She struggled immensely with what she would do. Keeping the baby meant her goals would have to wait, and she’d be branded forever in her community. And abortion… Well… How selfish. Sandra had said to herself with mixed emotions.

But was it? Was an abortion truly selfish? And why couldn’t she be selfish? Why couldn’t she put her future first in that moment in time?

The inner monologue that night was something fierce. Sandra approached the matter from all angles. And no matter the religious challenge she countered the pro-choice challenge with, she came back to the same conclusion. She was not ready, and she did not want to be forced to be ready by an ideology she knew she was not aligned with as far as her body was concerned.

PRESENT DAY

SANDRA SNAPPED out of the thought and looked Jude in his green, life-filled eyes as tears spilled down her face. “No. But I know I’m doing the right thing for myself. I know it might seem selfish. And I know that before this, I was fiercely against this choice. However, I want more for my life. And I want to be in a position where I can offer more to a child if that’s what I want to do in the future, whether that’s with you or anyone else. I know this goes against everything I was brought up to believe, but too many women have given up so much because they were told how things should be. My entire life I always knew that I didn’t want to be that person, who didn’t have a voice, who did everything I was told to do. I’m thankful for that beautiful, safety net my family provided, but I’ll never know or understand life in its wholeness if I shelter myself from the world and cling, strictly to a belief system that dictates my every move. If I’m wrong, then I can at least say it was my choice. And I will live with this choice. As everyone else can live with theirs.”

“Ms.,” a middle-aged woman called from the door into the back medical offices. “We are ready.”

Sandra closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. She cleared her mind and stood.

Jude held her hand tightly and followed her lead as they disappeared passed the threshold into a sterile medical room.

Later that evening as they laid quietly side by side staring at the ceiling Beatriz and Jason popped in.

“Are you two, okay?” Jason said as he leaned against the door frame.

Beatriz took a seat beside Sandra and took her hand. “I’m worried about you. What did the doctor say? Didn’t you have an appointment today?”

Sandra offered her cousin a weak smile. “I’m going to be all right. I promise. I just need to gather my strength before I go back to work next week. And school, of course. It’s just fatigue, really.”

Jude avoided eye contact. Instead, he stared intently at Sandra.

Jason sighed. “Well, we are going to grab dinner and bring it back here for all of us because Beatriz says she hasn’t seen either of you eat, and well, I do what she says.” He laughed. Beatriz moved to his side and playfully punched him in the ribs.

“Come on,” she said, pulling him away. “Let’s grab some Vietnamese food, and we’ll let you pick the movie.”

Sandra and Jude listened for the door to close, and Sandra reached for Jude’s hand. “Thank you, for staying at my side.”

Jude, who had been strong the entire time, finally wept. He cried and held her tightly. “When I said, I love you, I really meant it, Sandra. I don’t want to lose you. And I don’t ever want you to have to make a decision like the one you had to make today.”

Sandra cried with him. It was the single most gut-wrenching decision she’d ever made in her life. And she hoped it was the most difficult decision she’d have to make.

But life wasn’t all roses and chocolate.

Life was filled with beautiful chaos. It was messy and complicated, loving, painful, sporadic, and joyful. It was filled with twists and turns, difficulties, and choice.

Yes. Life was filled with choices. Choices to make the life of your dreams, with or without the influence of outside sources or beliefs. Because it is your life to live. And your life to thrive.

About the Author

R. Castro is a USA Today bestselling author of Native American & Mexican descent. She is English/Spanish/Spanglish bilingual. She is the mama bear of two young men, wife, and best friend to an amazing Filipino husband since 1995.

Castro grew up on a ranch in the Sierra Madre Mountains of Zacatecas state, and currently resides at the foothills of the Cascade Mountains of Washington State; the Evergreen State, where she was born. When she’s not writing, R. Castro is busy entertaining the family’s two wooly Alaskan Malamutes, Kronos, and Bowie.

Please visit her website so you can follow and keep up with what’s new.

Website: https://rosesarehappy.com

TAKE ME IN THE SHADOWS

A TAKE ME NOVELETTE

R.L. KENDERSON

ONE

SERENA

MY FRIEND BILLIE ELBOWED ME, interrupting my conversation with the handsome guy I’d just met. “Your stalker’s back,” she said, pointing across the nightclub to the light brown-haired man who was sitting at a table sipping his drink as if he belonged there.

The guy I’d met at the bar, who up until now had seemed interested in me, widened his eyes at her comment.

“She’s joking,” I told him. “He’s not really a stalker.” More like a protector. An unwanted one. But that explanation didn’t sound any better.

“Yeah…” he drew out the word. “I’m going to find my friends.”

He left and I stared at my friends accusingly.

Billie and Claudia put their hands up.

“I didn’t post a single thing on social media,” Claudia said.

“Me either,” Billie added.

Jaw clenched, I stomped toward the man who kept his eyes on me the entire time, a smirk on his face.

When I met Evan “Ice” Malone four years ago, I remembered a sexy boyish yet full-grown man walking into my now aunt Addison’s office. I had been her receptionist at the time and I could still picture that meeting. I’d thought he was a hot older guy—twenty-five to my eighteen—like any teenager would, especially when he’d smiled at me.

I’d gone home and masturbated to dirty thoughts of him that night.

But tonight? Tonight I wanted to strangle him. Even if he was here because he was doing a favor for my uncle and my mom.

As a present to ourselves for finishing nursing school and passing our boards, Claudia, Billie, and I flew out to San Diego before we all started working full-time at our new jobs back in Iowa.

We’d thought California would be fun, but I had no idea my uncle Maddox would send his friend and former Navy SEAL teammate to watch over me like I was a child instead of a twenty-two-year-old woman.

When my uncle retired, he’d been stationed in Virginia, so when my friends and I chose San Diego for our trip, I had no idea Evan had transferred teams.

I also had no idea my mother would worry so much about me, but ever since my grandma passed away, she’d been holding onto me extra tightly.

“How did you find me?” I demanded when I reached Evan’s table. It was infuriating how much a part of me wanted him around even when I wanted him to go away.

One eyebrow rose. “I didn’t find you at all. I go where Maddox tells me to go.”

I narrowed my eyes. That wasn’t the answer I was looking for.

“Okay, then how did Maddox find me? My friends and I didn’t tell anyone where we were going—”

He snorted and took a sip after he shook his head. “That wasn’t very smart. What if something happened to you?”

“It’s not like any of you gave us much of a choice of anything happening when you’re constantly around,” I said through gritted teeth.

Evan swung around on his stool to face me and looked down at the tiny purse I had crossed over my body, hanging on my hip. “Is that big enough to hold a phone?”

“Yes, my phone is in there.”

“Did you turn off your location so that family and friends can’t find you?”

“Goddammit,” I yelled, not caring if people around me turned to look. “So it’s my own fault?”

He lifted a shoulder as if to say you have no one to blame but yourself.

“How much is Maddox paying you? I don’t have a lot of money, but I will pay you to leave.”

The casual amusement on his face was gone as he scowled at me. “He’s not paying me shit. I’m doing this because he’s my friend.”

My jaw fell and my eyes widened. “But you’ve been out four nights in a row with me.” My nose wrinkled. For a split second I thought about what it would be like for him to be there for me, but quickly dismissed it as unlikely. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Yes, but I’m here instead. Because that’s what friends do.”

“What if you pretended we were friends, and you left because I asked you to?”

He tilted his head. “Why does it matter? I leave you and your friends alone. I don’t bother you.”

I sighed. “Because I don’t want you reporting back everything we’re doing.”

His brow furrowed. “I’m not reporting anything back. I’m not a spy.”

“Still…” I stepped between his legs, meeting him eye-to-eye. He was taller than me despite the fact he was sitting on a stool and I was standing. His blue eyes darkened as I inhaled the masculine scent that traveled from my nose straight to my core.

And that was the reason I needed him to leave.

“Even if you don’t tell my uncle or my mom anything, there are certain things I can’t do if I know you’re watching me.”

He was obviously not understanding what I was trying to tell him because he said, “If you’re worried about getting drunk, they already know you’re at a nightclub. I think it’s safe to assume that’s going to happen.”

“I know you’re not that dense, Evan, but I’ll lay it out for you, anyway.” I put my hand on his chest. “I’m young, single, and on vacation, and I want to get laid.” No, that wasn’t a strong enough word. “I want to get fucked. Up against the wall, animalistic fucked.”

Heat flared in his eyes, and his heart pounded under my palm.

“It’s my last night in San Diego, and I can’t find anyone to do that if I know you’re watching me.” I licked my lips. “Unless you want to be the one to scratch my itch.”

I was mostly messing with him, hoping I’d make him uncomfortable enough to leave. Or maybe horny enough that he’d find his own woman to take home.

Not that I would have minded if that were me, but we both knew that wasn’t going to happen. My uncle had warned him away from me, and Evan seemed to do what Maddox asked without question, despite only being five years younger.

Such a pity.

His nostrils flared but he sat there, stiff and unmoving.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” And suddenly I didn’t care if he watched me flirt with a dozen men or take someone back to my hotel. I was on vacation, and I wasn’t going to let Evan Malone ruin it. “So either leave or stay out of my way.”

Spinning on my heel, I turned and marched back to my friends.

“What happened?” Billie asked.

“I told him to leave or stay out of my way because I’m getting laid tonight.”

TWO

SERENA

I STROLLED out onto the dance floor, leaving my friends by the bar and making sure I headed for a corner so I was hidden from Evan’s view.

I needed to cool down—figuratively, at least, because the dance floor was full of people—before I started flirting with anyone.

All my talking about having sex with Evan had wound me up to the point I was ready to go home with the first guy who hit on me. But I was a little more careful than that, so I had to settle for dancing.

Someone bumped into me, so I spun around to make sure no one was hurt when I saw Evan stalking toward me, determination in his eyes.

I felt like he was a predator and I was his prey. My traitorous body clenched at the sight of him.

One large hand grabbed my hip and pulled me toward him as our bodies swayed to the beat of the hip-hop song playing.

His muscles were hard and so was his cock that dug into my pelvis as I once again breathed in his smell.

This was doing the opposite of calming my body down. My nipples pebbled and my pussy clenched.

“You got yourself a deal,” he said, his mouth next to my ear.

“Deal?” I asked, my cheek on his so he could hear me. “You’re going to leave so I can find someone to fuck me?”

He used his free hand to grip the back of my hair. “No. I’m going to be the one to fuck you.”

I shivered and pushed my palms underneath his black T-shirt. His skin was hot and smooth under my fingertips.

“How do I know this isn’t some trick? You’ll get me to leave with you, and then you’ll take me to my hotel to drop me off. And leave me wanting,” I said as I shamelessly rubbed my pussy against his dick.

Rather than answer me, he directed me backward, into the corner until my back hit the wall. The lights were angled over our heads, shining out into the crowd, leaving us hidden in the shadows. Despite being surrounded by people, it felt like we were alone.

Evan was still clutching my hair, and I stared into his eyes, daring him to take this further. He ran his other hand down my ass and lifted my leg to rest on his hip before sliding back up my thigh, under my dress, and in between my legs.

When he found the wet crotch of my thong, his nostrils flared.

I barely got a smirk out, feeling satisfied with surprising him, when he pushed my panties aside and shoved two fingers into me, one-upping me.

I closed my eyes. This was better than any fantasy I’d had about him. I rotated my hips over his hand, but he pulled on my scalp and gently shook my head until my lids popped open.

“My hand is already soaked and I have yet to make you come. Should I let you climax here, surrounded by all these people, or should I make you wait?” he asked, his voice low and commanding in my ear.

My hands grasped his neck and I dug my nails in as he stroked me. “Please don’t make me wait.” I didn’t care about anyone but the two of us. “It feels so good.”

He growled. “Yeah, but my cock would feel even better.”

He was right.

I cupped his crotch. His dick was long and thick, and I saw no reason to wait. I was frenzied and out of control, and I had never done anything like this but I had to have him. This could be my only chance.

I attacked the front of his jeans until his shaft sprung out of its confines and into my waiting hand. He was heavy and growing larger. I could barely wrap my whole fist around his dick. My pussy tightened as the thought of him being inside me, stretching me.

“Serena,” he demanded, his voice tight. “What are you doing?”

I licked the shell of his ear. “This.” I leaned my head back as far as his grip would allow so I could meet his gaze as I lifted the front of my dress, arched my leg higher, and thrust him inside me.

Immediately, I stiffened as I exploded, and my pussy contracted around his dick. Thankfully, the music was blaring, and no one heard my cries of pleasure.

Except for Evan, who had wrapped his arms around my waist to lift me higher. Holding our bodies tight, he pounded into me as I held onto him. He pushed in deep and ground his hips in the perfect rhythm that hit my G-spot and clit relentlessly. And that was enough for me.

A second orgasm hit me at full force, and my legs shook around Evan’s hips. He shoved his thickness into me one last time until he jerked inside me. I swore I felt his hot seed fill me up.

His shoulders, which had stiffened under me, loosened as his body relaxed from his climax.

“You’re right. Your cock does feel better,” I panted. My inner muscles were still pulsing.

“You got that right. And your cunt is the best goddamn thing I’ve felt all year.”

I squeezed his dick with my inner muscles just to hear him groan.

His fist was in my hair again as he yanked my head back. “Now that you know I’m telling you the truth, here’s how it’s going to go. I’m going to leave your sweet heat, we’re going to straighten our clothes, and head for the front. You can tell your friends goodbye as we leave, and then I’m taking you back to my place for the night where I’m going to spend the rest of the time buried deep inside.” He smirked. “Consider the sore pussy you’ll be taking home tomorrow a souvenir from me.”

CHAPTER THREE

SERENA

Four Years Later

I PICKED up the 3T shorts and T-shirt that were thrown on the deck and sighed.

Addison, my uncle’s wife, smiled. “It gets easier. I promise.” She suddenly frowned. “But then it also gets harder.” Waving her hand in front of herself, she added, “Forget I said anything.”

Taking a seat next to her on a lounge chair, I looked out into the yard as two little girls ran through a sprinkler. The dark-haired little girl was Maddox and Addison’s third child, Gwen. The other child was blonde. Her name was Aubrey.

And she was mine.

Evan had sent me home with more than a sore pussy and memories of him as a souvenir. He’d sent me home with a whole person.

“Mommy, mommy,” Aubrey said. “Watch this!” She did something that looked like it was supposed to be a cartwheel, but hardly came close.

“Good job, baby,” I yelled back.

“Me too,” Gwen said, and Addison cheered for her daughter.

Addison turned to me. “You know, when I got pregnant with Gwen, I was sure I was going to have another boy.” She chuckled. “I was convinced Maddox was too alpha to make any females. And when I found out I was having a girl, I was worried she wouldn’t have anyone to play with. But then you told us you were pregnant with Aubrey. It was like it was meant to be.”

I smiled back. “I am very glad that they have each other.” I tilted my head to the side. “Even though Gwen is my cousin, and Aubrey is my daughter,” I pointed out with a hint of laughter.

“Life’s funny. Your mom was young when she had you, and Maddox and I started a little later.” Her smile faltered for a moment. “Things might have been a lot different if certain things hadn’t gone the way they did.” She shook her head as if to shake off bad thoughts, and her happy face returned. “But I supposed things happened the way they were meant to.”

Addison and Maddox had been high school sweethearts, but had been forced apart and separated for twelve years before he came back to town and they reconnected. My family didn’t talk about the past that much. I had been a little kid when Maddox had left, so I only knew the Cliff Notes version of what happened. I felt bad that they lost all those years together, especially for how in love they were, but I was glad they had found each other again.

As for me, my grandma had my mom when she was seventeen, and my mother had me when she was sixteen. My mom didn’t know who her dad was, and I didn’t know my dad. I had been determined to break that cycle. I had pictured graduating college, getting a good job, getting married to a wonderful man, and waiting a year or two before having kids so they could grow up knowing their father.

I’d even made an appointment at an abortion clinic. But after I went and talked with someone, I realized I didn’t want to go that route, and that I wanted to have her.

But despite that, I still managed to check two things off my before-kids list. Or maybe only one-and-a-half. I had graduated from nursing school and passed my boards. But I had ended up giving up the job I found in Des Moines to move back to Brook Creek so my family could help me with Aubrey. I found a job in another town twenty minutes away, where I was still a Registered Nurse, but the hospital in Des Moines was a level one trauma ER position. I had to give that up to work in a level four—the lowest trauma level—med/surg floor. It lacked the excitement, but the hours were good and it was close to home.

The sliding door opened behind us, and Maddox and Thane stepped onto the deck.

Addison arched her neck. “Hey, baby,” she said and Maddox leaned over and kissed her.

“Hi, Mommy,” five-year-old Thane said as he threw himself in her lap.

“Oof.” She squeezed him tight. “Hello, my big boy. Did you have fun with Daddy?”

“Yes.” Thane rolled onto his back still on top of Addison as Maddox pulled out a chair at the patio table.

“Where’s Spencer?” Addison asked him.

“Inside,” Maddox said with a nod of his head toward the house. “I told him he could watch TV for an hour.”

Spencer was seven, the oldest, and definitely an indoor kid.

Thane sat up. “Mommy, can I go in the sprinkler?”

“Sure. Do you know where your swim trunks are?” Addison asked.

“Yes.” Thane jumped up and ran inside.

She looked at me. “There’s a fifty percent chance he comes out in regular shorts, but that’s what laundry is for.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Being around Addison taught me that I can be a good mom and also let some things go.

“So how did today really go?” she asked her husband.

He stretched out his legs and leaned back in his chair. “Good. We caught three fish total. I think Thane had more fun letting them go than catching them.” Maddox smiled suddenly. “What?” His eyes were on his wife.

I turned my head toward Addison to see her shrug.

“I don’t know. I want to love on you, I guess,” she said with a grin.

“Yeah, you want to more than love on me,” he muttered.

I rolled my eyes. “Could you two not?”

Maddox and Addison were still so in love. It was very sweet but sometimes it made me feel like gagging. And that didn’t factor in the jealousy.

They both laughed at me.

“Sorry, Serena, I forgot you were there,” my uncle said.

I stuck my tongue out at him.

“I’m kidding,” he said to me. “I talked to your mom today, and she said she got time off work for our trip.”

My other uncle, Foster, had gotten married last winter and suddenly decided we should take a family trip to the Black Hills. It sounded like a good idea in theory, but getting that many schedules to line up had been proving difficult. Our trip was in two weeks, and my mom had barely been granted the vacation time.

My eyes flew up in a delightful surprise. “Oh, good. Her boss sure was cutting it close. She was the last, right?”

He nodded. “We’re all set. And she’s bringing her boyfriend.”

“Good. Mom deserves to be happy.”

“What about you?” Addison asked.

“I am happy.”

She laughed. “No, I meant, do you have anybody you might bring?”

I chuckled. “No. No one special.” I’d dated here and there but it was hard with a kid. Most men didn’t seem worth the effort.

The sliding door opened and closed again and Thane ran past us and straight toward the water, growling as he charged Gwen and Aubrey.

The two girls ran away toward the adults screaming and laughing.

“Daddy!”

“Uncle Madd!” Aubrey couldn’t quite say Maddox so she came up with her own nickname for him, which I think he secretly loved.

He opened his arms. “My girls.”

My heart pinched at the sight of my uncle giving Aubrey as much attention as he did his daughter. He was really the only father figure she had, and while we never talked about it, I think Maddox understood and went out of his way to make an effort.

Both girls threw their arms around him, getting him all wet from their swimsuits and hair, but he didn’t care.

And just as fast as they hugged him, they turned back around to play.

But Maddox wasn’t the only thing they got wet, and Aubrey slipped on the damp wood right onto her little butt.

I bolted upright and held my breath. I had learned to not make a big deal of things until she did.

Aubrey wrinkled her nose and stood up, immediately rubbing her butt.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” I asked.

She nodded her head and turned her back to me as she lowered the bottom half of her two-piece swimming suit.

I inspected and concluded, “It’s a little red, but no bruise so far and no broken skin.”

Still holding her suit down, she spun around. “What’s that mean?”

“It means it looks okay.”

Maddox was behind her and he slowly sat up straight. “What is that?”

Aubrey looked behind her. “What?”

He pointed, his brow furrowed. “That.”

“That’s my dinsaur birfmark.” She said couldn’t quite say dinosaur or birthmark yet.

I frowned. “You’ve never seen that?”

He shook his head.

“Is there something wrong?” I asked. The birthmark was lighter than her normal skin, almost as if it was missing pigment, and the pediatrician had never said I should be worried.

He shook his head and smiled, “No. It’s just something I’ve never noticed on her before.”

I was about to question him more, but Maddox stood, taking Aubrey with him to the sprinkler to play.

CHAPTER FOUR

EVAN

I GOT HOME after my evening run, and let my body cool down. I was about to hit the shower when my cell rang.

I grinned when I saw who was on the other end.

“Maddox,” I practically yelled into my phone.

The other end was silent.

“Hello? Maddox?”

“Evan, I have a question for you, and I don’t care what the answer is as long as you’re honest with me.”

Shit. This sounded serious.

“Of course, man.”

A deep breath traveled through the phone, and I was starting to wonder if there was something very wrong.

But before I could ask, Maddox spoke first.

“Four years ago, did you sleep with Serena?”

This was not the question I had expected. Maybe four years ago, but not after all this time.

And I wouldn’t exactly call what we did as sleeping together. As I recalled, we did very little of that. It had been more like hardcore fucking. All night long.

“Yes. Yes, I did,” I admitted, leaving out how dirty our screwing had been.

Silence again, and then a loud, “I fucking knew it.”

He knew it? Like he had guessed?

“What? You mean Serena didn’t tell you?”

“No.”

“Then how…?”

“One more question, then you can ask yours.”

“Okay.” Although, I didn’t know what else there was to say, because I wasn’t going to apologize for the hottest night of sex in my life. I felt bad for betraying Maddox’s trust, but Serena was an adult who could make her own decisions.

I still beat off regularly just thinking about fucking Serena again. After all this time, she was the best goddamn lay I’d ever had.

“Do you know who Aubrey is?”

Maddox’s question brought me back to the present.

“Aubrey?” I rolled the name around in my head. I remembered Serena had two friends when she came to visit. Neither of them were named Aubrey, though. I was pretty sure of that. “No. Who is she?”

Maddox cursed again. “Fuck. Evan, I think it’s time you come back to visit Iowa. Because Aubrey is your daughter.”

CHAPTER FIVE

SERENA

Two Weeks Later

I KNOCKED on the back door of the garage, “Maddox? Addison?”

“We’re in here,” my uncle called out.

About a week ago, Maddox had called off the family trip. He said that he suddenly had to stay for work. I thought he and his family weren’t going to go, but in the family chat group, Foster had messaged back, saying we could spend time as a family here in Brook Creek.

I thought it was odd that Foster would give in like that since he’d been the one to plan the trip, but when I tried to question him, he’d changed the subject.

I had gone back and forth on how I felt. On one hand, the trip would have been a lot of work, but on the other, I had taken the time off work only to spend it in Brook Creek like any other day off.

But since I didn’t have any other exciting vacations lined up, I decided to take the time and do some projects around the house that I’d been meaning to do. And since I’d left work almost an hour ago, my staycation had officially started.

Entering the house through the garage door, I walked through the kitchen to the living room. Aubrey went to the same daycare as Maddox and Addison’s kids, and usually, I picked her up, but Maddox had sent me a text today, saying he had brought Aubrey to his house.

I figured it was because it was Friday and he wanted the kids to play together, but as I rounded the corner, I realized there was an entirely different reason my uncle had picked up my daughter from daycare.

I gasped as Evan rose up from the couch with all the smoothness of a wild predator. But maybe that was because he looked like he was doing everything in his power not to pounce on me.

But my thoughts quickly shifted to my daughter. “Where’s Aubrey?” I asked.

“Playing in Gwen’s room,” Maddox said. “She doesn’t know yet. But why don’t you come in and sit?”

I walked into the living room where I had stopped at the threshold a moment ago, but I wasn’t going to sit down. The animal in me was awakened. I was a mama bear, ready to snatch my daughter out of there as soon as anything went wrong.

“How— How did you find out?” I didn’t know who I was asking, but I needed answers from at least one of them.

Evan glared at me, still standing in front of the couch, but didn’t say a word.

Maddox, who was the only person sitting, spoke first. “Aubrey’s birthmark,” he said.

My breath caught. I knew he had acted weird the day he saw it.

“What about her birthmark?”

Maddox looked over at Evan whose hands went to the fly of his pants.

My eyes widened, wondering what the hell he was doing.

He flipped on side of his pants down after they were undone, and turned his hip. At first, the only thing I noticed was he wasn’t wearing any underwear and that he still had the perfect V.

But my unwanted and unneeded lust was pushed aside by the dark spot on the top of his buttock.

I had to move closer to understand if what I was seeing was correct.

While Aubrey’s was paler than her natural skin color, Evan’s was darker.

But there was no mistaking that the shape was almost identical to my daughter’s dinosaur birthmark. I looked up into his eyes.

Our daughter’s birthmark.

I straightened.

“Maybe if you hadn’t been so busy digging your nails into my ass you would have noticed that we have the same mark on our skin.”

Swallowing, I put my hand to my throat. I knew he was trying to embarrass me in front of my uncle. Probably out of some twisted revenge, but I wasn’t going to yell at him or anything. He had every right to be mad at me.

My uncle was a different matter. “Evan, I know you’re mad, but that is still my niece you’re talking to.”

“You have a birfmark like me!”

The three of us swung around to see that Aubrey had snuck up behind us as she’d entered the room.

I snorted. “Some Navy SEALs you are,” I muttered under my breath.

So maybe I was going to be a little snarky back.

Evan narrowed his eyes at me as he yanked up his pants and quickly fastened them.

“Hi, baby,” I said to Aubrey, holding out my arms.

“Hi, Mommy,” she said. But instead of walking over and giving me a hug, she approached Evan. “Are you my daddy?”

No one moved.

“Uncle Maddox is Gwen’s daddy, but I don’t have a daddy. I asked Mommy if I can have one, but she says no.”

Less than an hour ago, my life had seemed so simple. I had been planning what I was going to do with my free time this coming week, and now, I was wondering how in the hell I was going to get myself out of this mess.

“Aubrey, honey,” I started to say, but before I could finish, Evan went down on one knee in front of her.

“Yes, Aubrey. I’m your daddy.”

“Yay!” she yelled and threw her arms around him, giving him what was supposed to be my hug, and I couldn’t help but feel like I was going to lose her forever.

CHAPTER SIX

EVAN

I HEARD noises outside the guest bedroom, and I glanced over at the clock. It was after one in the morning.

Worried that Aubrey was up and moving around by herself, I got out of bed and headed toward the noise.

But it wasn’t Aubrey. It was Serena.

The mother of the fucking child I didn’t know I had until two weeks ago.

I was still furious with her for not telling me, or rather I wanted to be. A lot of my anger had waned, leaving mostly confusion…and hurt. But that didn’t mean I was going to let her get away with keeping me from my daughter.

And it was also why Maddox had probably insisted I spend the week at Serena’s house. He had used the excuse that staying here would help me get to know my daughter, but I think he was also hoping that Serena and I would talk.

I had noticed almost immediately how much she loved Aubrey and how great of mom she was. So far, she had raised an amazing kid, and I had to admire her for doing it on her own. It wasn’t any wonder I still found her attractive, despite her keeping our daughter a secret.

She looked over as she must have heard me enter. “I’m sorry if I woke you. I couldn’t sleep.”

It had been three days and so far we hadn’t said much of anything to each other. Aubrey was always around as a buffer, and we both found reasons to not be alone.

Except now I was standing in her kitchen with her while our daughter was fast asleep in her bedroom.

Serena was digging around on the top shelf of the cupboard, causing her long T-shirt to ride up until I saw a plump buttcheek and her naked hip.

That wasn’t going to do.

I need to fight my attraction, not fuel it.

“What do you need from up there?” I asked, swiftly moving in behind her to help. The sooner the item was retrieved, the sooner her T-shirt would cover all the parts I wanted to put my mouth on again.

I saw the tea that her fingertips were brushing against, and before I thought about what I was doing, I grabbed it. As my hand wrapped around the box, I felt my body become flush with hers. Her ass cradled my dick, which couldn’t be reasoned with and was now fully hard. The only thing separating us was the thin material of my boxers and her T-shirt.

Serena gasped and I groaned as I set the tea on the counter.

But I didn’t back away nor did she turn and shove me. And whether it was the fact that my anger had slowly receded over the last few days or that I was half asleep or that she smelled incredible, I didn’t know, but I did the unthinkable.

Rather than yell at her or demand answers out of her, I wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her neck.

She moaned again as she rubbed her ass against my cock, and that was all the go-ahead I needed.

Shoving my other hand between her legs, I pushed her thighs apart and found her bare pussy. I had thought my memories had exaggerated how wet she’d gotten for me, but I could tell that it had been the truth. If anything, my mind had downplayed it.

“Fuck. Are you this soaked for me?” I plunged two fingers inside her, and like the first time we were together, she started to ride my hand.

But I wasn’t going to let her get off after what she did to me for the last four years. At least not like that.

I brought her close to the edge before stopping.

She whimpered and tried to buck against my hand.

“I’m still pissed at you, you know.”

She nodded. “I know.”

“But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to fuck you. And that doesn’t mean you’re not going to let me.”

She nodded again. “I want you too,” she said, her voice needy. “I want to feel you inside me again, Evan.”

“Godammit,” I cursed. I had expected her to kick me out of the kitchen instead of craving this as much as I did. “Bend over.” As much as I wanted to watch her face as I made her come, I couldn’t do it. Not tonight.

But it didn’t matter, because Serena immediately laid her upper body on the counter and lifted her ass for me.

I yanked my dick from my boxers as I flipped her T-shirt onto her lower back, and drove inside her.

Her knees buckled but I grasped her hips to keep her upright. “Oh, no you don’t. You’re not coming until I come.” I still remembered how fast she’d exploded all those years ago at the first slide of my cock. “You owe that to me,” I growled as I pounded into her. Her cunt was so wet and tight. It gripped my dick like it was made for me.

She owed me way more than that. So much more. Maybe that’s why when the thought of protection crossed my brain, I dismissed it. The deep part of me—the primal part—wanted to knock her up again. I wanted to watch her abdomen grow round with my child. It wanted to be there for all the things I’d missed with Aubrey. The rational part of me knew she was on birth control, and I didn’t really need to worry about getting us into more of a mess than we already were.

As a thirty-three-year-old man who knew better, another pregnancy should have freaked me out, but they spurred me on instead. I fucked Serena as hard as I could, trying to get as deep into her pussy as our bodies would allow. And when my orgasm was on the horizon, I reached around for her swollen nub, wanting her feel as good as I did in this moment.

Right before I exploded, I shoved my cock in until I bottomed out and pinched her clit, and we both flew over the edge together. Stars lined my vision as her pussy clenched down like a vise, pulling everything from me. My seed, my anger, my desire to stay away.

After our breathing slowed, I realized neither of us had moved. Serena was still bent over, her forehead resting on her arm, and I was still inside her as far as I could go. Every few seconds her pussy would contract, and my dick jerked in response.

With a lot more care than when I entered her, I gently pulled out. After sex, I thought my brain would be clearer, but along with my cock, out came some of my cum, and I didn’t like it.

I snatched a napkin from the counter, wiped it off the floor, and tossed it in the garbage can. I picked Serena up in my arms before she stood and the rest of my seed out leaked out.

She gasped in surprise as I realized how good she felt in my arms. “What are you doing?” Maybe she noticed it too.

“Taking you to my room. You’re not done owing me yet.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

SERENA

SOMETHING DISTURBED me from my sleep. I looked around and cocked an ear, but I didn’t hear anything.

And it wasn’t Evan. He was still fast asleep, his half-hard dick still inside me from how we’d both fallen asleep after he’d fucked me about an hour and a half ago.

The same way he’d fucked me every night since he found me in the kitchen four nights ago. My staycation had turned into part sexcation.

Neither of us had time to talk about what happened four years ago but we always found time to have multiple rounds of sex. During the day, Evan had been helping me get through my to-do list, and he’d been spending time getting to know Aubrey. At night, once she went to bed, it was only the two of us and our bodies.

It was a good thing I didn’t have to work, or I would be exhausted from the lack of sleep. Thankfully, I napped when Aubrey napped. Partly to make up for the rest I’d missed, and to put off talking to Evan about the pregnancy that I’d kept from him.

As horrified as I was to see him in Maddox and Addison’s living room, it was amazing at how much I, now, liked having him around. Not only in my bed, but in my house and in my life. And in Aubrey’s life. He was a better father than I could ever hope for, and he always treated me with respect in front of her despite my betrayal.

At some point we were going to need to have a long discussion before the week was over, but a part of me didn’t want to admit he was going to have to leave. I was beginning to love spending time with him, with or without Aubrey around.

Best not to dwell too much on the future.

It was after six in the morning, and I was used to getting up early even if I was tired, so I decided to get out of bed and make coffee.

But as I tried to roll away from Evan, he pulled me tighter and his semi-hard dick became one hundred percent hard.

He nuzzled my neck. “Hm. Where are you going?” he murmured.

I wondered if this is what Maddox had pictured when he forced the two of us to stay together for a week. His old friend—who he’d once told to stay away from me—sleeping in the same bed as me every night.

“I should get up. Aubrey will be awake soon.” We actually had about an hour, but it was a good excuse. “You should really go back to your room.” We’d been rotating beds with the unspoken understanding that the other would go back to their own in the morning before Aubrey saw us together and got confused.

But as the doorknob jiggled on my closed door, I realized that Aubrey was probably the reason I had woken up.

“Oh, shit,” I whispered as the door flung open and our daughter came flying into the room and onto the bed.

Evan must have heard my words of distress, because he pulled out of me and flopped onto his back as Aubrey landed on top in between our now separated bodies.

Even though Evan and I were both under the covers, we were both very naked, and I pulled my comforter up to my armpits and tucked it around me.

She looked at Evan and then at me. “Mommy?”

“Yes, baby?”

She tilted her head. “Why is Daddy in your bed?”

My mouth opened but I didn’t know what to say. So far, we hadn’t had any close calls, and I wasn’t prepared for this line of questioning.

I glared at Evan who had an arm behind his head, looking way too relaxed, like this was his bed and he had every right to be there. How was he not freaking out right now?

“Uncle Maddox and Aunt Addison share a bed because they’re marriage.”

“Married,” I correct. Of all the things for me to finally say, it was that. Sheesh.

“Does this mean you and Daddy are going to get married?” Aubrey gasped and her eyes lit up. “Does this mean I might get a little broter or sister?”

I didn’t correct her this time because Evan was too busy looking down at my abdomen area. He lifted his gaze and raised an eyebrow. “I certainly get an A for effort,” he said.

It was my turn to gasp. “Aubrey, you need to leave Mommy’s bedroom for a minute. Mommy needs to speak to Daddy.”

She’d been on her knees, but plopped down onto her butt and crossed her arms. Kind of. She really only put one arm over the other because she was three. But I understood what she was telling me. She wasn’t going anywhere.

“Daddy, do I haveta?”

“Aubrey Beatrice, you go to your room right now,” I said with my finger pointed at the door.

She’d never not listened to me before this week when it came to important stuff. But suddenly she had a father in the picture, and she was ignoring me in favor of him? I don’t think so.

I flung back the covers and hopped out of bed without thinking.

“Mommy, you’re naked!” Aubrey’s eyes were wide as saucers. She’d seen me without clothes plenty of times. Just not while I was in bed with a man. Before Evan, she’d never seen me in bed with anyone, much less naked with someone.

Immediately, I darted back under the covers as Evan sat up. The sheet fell to his waist but he grabbed something off the floor, pulling it on under the sheet before standing up.

He had on his jeans, but Aubrey must have figured out what he was doing under there.

“Daddy, were you naked like Mommy?”

He picked her up under the arms and carried her to the door. “Yes, I was. Mommies and daddies do that sometimes.”

“When they wove each other.”

“Huh?” Evan asked as he set her down on the other side of the door.

“Aunt Addison said mommies and daddies take their cvothes off because they wove each other.”

I didn’t know what issue to address first. The fact that Addison had told my three-year-old that, was most likely because she saw them in a compromising position and never told me. Or if I should figure out how to explain to my daughter that Evan and I didn’t love each other, and that he wasn’t staying in the same state much less our house.

I cursed Maddox for putting me in this situation. Why couldn’t he have left well enough alone?

Evan kneeled down in front of Aubrey. “Honey, what happens between your mommy and me in the bedroom is really our business, but sometimes mommies and daddies take off their clothes because they care about each other and are learning to love each other.”

Aubrey shrugged. “Okay. I’ll go to my woom. But only for five minutes.” She held up four fingers. “But then I’m comin’ back.”

“Got it,” Evan said, kissing her on the forehead and turning her toward the direction of her room.

I couldn’t deny that he was good with her.

He stood, closed the door, and flipped the lock. Running his fingers through his hair, he said, “Whew, that was close.”

I whipped the covers back and jumped out of bed. “Close? Close? Are you kidding me?” I flung my hand toward the door. “You are giving her false expectations.” I jabbed myself in the chest as I let out all my frustrations. “Expectations I’m going to have to deal with after you’re gone.” I marched over to my dresser to pull out something to wear. “This is why I didn’t tell you about Aubrey in the first place. It’s too complicated. I live in Iowa and you live in California. How is she ever going to visit you? And now she thinks that something is happening between us. She’s going to be devastated when you fly back home, having no idea when she’s going to see you again.”

I stood up straight in the middle of my rummaging to stare in the direction of my uncle’s house. “Maddox was a real asshole for not asking me why I didn’t tell you in the first place.” I knew it was selfish, since Evan deserved to be with her as much as I did, but I didn’t want to lose Aubrey if he fought for custody.

Suddenly I remembered what Evan said about an A for effort. I spun around and pointed a finger. “And you.”

Evan was leaning back against the door, and he raised an eyebrow and my accusation.

“You’ve been trying to get me pregnant again? Are you nuts?”

He smirked. “Trying is a little strong of a word. More like I’m not the one doing anything to prevent it.” He shook his hand back and forth. “But you’re on birth control. Did I fantasize about knocking you up again the first night? A hundred percent yes. But it was just a fantasy.” He lifted a shoulder, not the least bit ashamed. “Besides I love seeing my cum in you.”

I huffed. “You are unbearable. FYI, I was on birth control with Aubrey too. And look how well that worked. One night, and boom. I’m pregnant.” I yanked my shirt on over my head. “Oh God, I should probably get a pregnancy test,” I whined.

Evan pushed himself off the door, looking a little too excited. “You can already find out?”

“No.” I narrowed my eyes. “What were you thinking? How the hell am I going to take care of two kids on my own?”

“Easy. You’re not.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

EVAN

SERENA SNORTED. “I don’t want your child support, Evan.” She sighed and sat down on the end of the bed. “I mean I do, but I don’t deserve it after keeping Aubrey from you. But I also realize Aubrey deserves it.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “This is all so complicated.”

I walked over and kneeled before her. I hated to see how distressed she was. She clearly hadn’t noticed anything I’d been trying to show her that week by helping her around the house and spending time together, just the three of us. Apparently for Serena, actions weren’t louder than words.

“After I found out I was pregnant, I actually thought about having an abortion.” She slowly lifted her chin to meet my eyes. “But I decided to go through with the pregnancy and keep her, but sometimes—like today—I think how much easier it would have been if I hadn’t.” She bit the bottom of her lip as her eyes misted and she looked toward the window. “That probably sounds like an awful thing to say, because I love my daughter.”

“Our daughter,” I corrected. I knew she hadn’t meant to exclude me, but I wanted to remind her that we made Aubrey together.

A small lift of her lips and then sadness returned. “I love Aubrey with all my heart, but she is going to be devastated when we tell her you’re going back to California. The hurt she’s going to feel…” A tear rolled down her cheek. “If I had decided not to have her, I could have saved her from the heartache she’s going to experience at the end of the week.”

“The heartache she’s going to experience? Or the heartache you are?” I asked quietly.

She turned to look at me. “Oh, Evan, we hardly know each other.”

“That’s not a denial,” I pointed out.

“You’re really determined to break me, huh?” She threw her hands in the air. “Fine. Yes. I’m going to miss you, okay? I wish you didn’t live so far away. I wish we could get to know each other better, and spend more time together as a family.” She looked down. “Maybe if we had more time, you’d forgive me, and maybe learn to love me too,” she whispered.

I grinned. “And give me more babies.”

She shook her head and chuckled. “You’re kind of stuck on that, huh?”

“I never got to experience Aubrey’s pregnancy or birth. Or her first three years.” I pushed her to lie back on the bed and lifted her shirt. It was the only thing she had put on.

“I’m so sorry.”

Spreading her legs, I studied Serena’s pussy. It was beautiful and wet from our combined cum. “I understand why you did what you did. We live half a country away and it was a one-night stand.”

“I didn’t want to ruin your life,” she whispered.

“Oh, baby.” She may have kept Aubrey a secret for herself, but she had also done it for me.

I leaned down and licked her clit, not only because I wanted to, but because she deserved it. She deserved to have her pussy worshiped every day.

Her hips jerked. “Oh shit.”

I circled my tongue around the swollen bud before plunging it inside of her and sucking.

“Oh my god.” She fisted the comforter underneath her. “What are you doing? You came in me last night. Three times.”

She didn’t need to remind me. I could taste myself along with her desire. The two of us combined made my cock harden once again. “That’s the point. I want you to see how much I want you.”

Her hands slid under her T-shirt to play with her nipples. “That only makes you leaving worse.”

I pushed two fingers inside her tight pussy. “Not if you come with me.”

“Get up here and get inside me then.”

I smiled and nipped at her clit. “Not that kind of come, baby. I’m saying, come with me to California.” I wrapped my lips around her nub, sucking and rubbing my tongue against it until her cunt started squeezing my fingers.

I pulled away and stood before her orgasm hit.

“Why? Why are you so evil?”

Flicking open my jeans, I said, “I want you to answer me.” I kicked them off and into the corner. I lifted her ass and rubbed the head of my dick at her entrance where she was dripping for me.

She arched, trying to take me inside.

“Nope. You’re not getting my cock until you give me an answer.”

“We can’t go to California.” She tried to reach for me, but I stopped her. “Please, Evan.”

“Wrong answer.”

“We can’t go to California. That’s insane. Where we will live? Where will I work?”

I parted her lips and pushed the first inch of my shaft inside her. “Pretty sure they have nursing jobs all over the world, including California.” Sliding another inch in, I added, “And you’re going to live with me. You’re going to give us a chance. You’re going to give California a chance. I can retire in five years and get fifty percent of my benefits. After that, we can move back to Iowa, or any other place you want.” I rocked back and forth, teasing her, letting her know I could give her every inch of my cock as soon as she agreed.

“But—”

“But nothing. You say yes, and you get all of me.” I met her eyes. “All of me,” I enunciated so she knew I meant more than the rest of my dick.

Just when I thought she was going to say no and call my bluff—because I was going to fuck her either way—she nodded. “Okay.”

“Yes,” I hissed and pushed into her. “That’s what I want to hear,” I said, my voice full of satisfaction at being inside her and getting her to come to California.

I gripped her hips and pounded into her, rubbing my cock the way I knew drove her wild.

She was close to coming once more, so I issued my other demand. “One more thing, Serena.”

Her eyes popped open.

“I need you to marry me.” She was mine and I couldn’t wait to call her my wife.

Boom. She detonated under me, and she gripped my dick so tight there was no way I could hold back any longer. I rammed my shaft into her twice and exploded, emptying my seed and love inside of her as she took my breath away.

When I was able to form words again, I grinned. “I’m going to take that as a yes.”

EPILOGUE

SERENA

I LOOKED around the empty house that I’d called home for years and tried not to cry. Despite being excited for our new adventure, I was also a little sad to say goodbye.

A wave of morning sickness hit me, and I took a moment to breathe. I did not want to be throwing up in my last moment here.

“Serena?” Evan called from outside.

“I’m coming,” I said as I started to feel better. I closed the door and looked down at my abdomen. “Listen, little one. You’d better give Mommy a break. We are moving halfway across the country, and I can’t be stopping every hour to throw up on the side of the road.”

“What are you doing?”

I looked up to see my husband standing in front of me with his eyebrows raised and our daughter in his arms.

“Talking to our unruly child,” I explained.

“Ah,” he said with a nod. “If you think that one is unruly, I hate to give you the bad news.”

I motion toward me. “Bring it on.”

“I asked where everyone wanted to stop on the way out of town. Aubrey isn’t speaking to us because she’s mad she won’t see her friends anymore. Jason wants a burger for breakfast, even though I’ve explained that no one is making them this early in the morning. And this one,”—he held out his arms and wiggled a giggling Ava in front of me—“spilled all of her Cheerios on the floor of the van.”

I took Ava from him and walked over to the open doors of our minivan. Evan opened the back and grabbed our car vacuum we used in times like these.

I peaked in the back at eight-year-old Aubrey. “Honey, I know you don’t want to leave California, and move back to Iowa, but I promise you will make new friends there. And you’ll get to see Gwen all the time.”

She glared up at me. “I know.”

She was talking so I hoped that by the time we left the driveway, she’d answer her father’s question as well.

I looked at four-year-old Jason, who was the spitting image of his father. “Buddy, they don’t have burgers for breakfast, but you can get one for lunch.”

He seemed to think about this. “Okay.”

Evan waited for his answer before turning on the vacuum. And I walked around to the other side while my husband finished up, and put our eighteen-month-old in her car seat. “You will get more treats later,” I told Ava, but she didn’t really care.

As for the fourth child not yet born, my stomach seemed to have settled down, and I was getting hungry.

Evan used his key fob to close both sliding doors.

“Please tell me you booked that appointment at the urologist’s office in Des Moines?” I said.

He pulled me into his arms and kissed me. “I did. It’s next week.”

“Oh, thank God.” After four failed birth control pregnancies—birth control of all different types—Evan and I decided it was time to make things permanent. And since I had given birth to three of our children, with another one on the way, he knew it was his turn to take one for our team.

He hugged me close and looked around. “I’m going to miss this place.”

I pulled back to get a better look at his face. “Are you sure you’re okay with retiring?”

Smiling, he brushed his thumb down my face. “Yes. You came here for me and our family, and I love you for it. But I’m tired. I’m almost forty, and a nice desk job sounds good right about now. And I’m excited to give Iowa a try.”

I somehow groaned and laughed at the same time. “I love you too, but after living in California for five years, I’m not sure I want to give Iowa a try.” But with a fourth baby on the way, my family would be a big help to us and my mom was beyond excited to see her grandkids more often. “And you’re never going to like a desk job, but I know you’ll find something you do like.” I rubbed my hand over his crotch. “Once you’re all healed up that is.”

“You keep that up, and I’m pulling you into the shadows over by the corner of the house, and taking you right there,” he teased.

I kissed his chin and rubbed my belly. “I don’t think baby would like that.”

“Damn kids ruin everything,” he muttered, but I knew he was joking. He loved his children more than anything.

Almost anything.

Because he loved me the most, and made sure to tell me every single day.

Thank you for reading Take Me in the Shadows! If you’d like to read Maddox and Addison’s story, Take Me in the Night, you can find full-length story here!

About the Authors

R.L. Kenderson is two best friends writing under one name. One lives in the Minneapolis-St. Paul area and the other in the Kansas City area where they both work in the medical field during the day and they’re a sexy author by night. They communicate through phone, email, and whole lot of messaging. You can find them at www.rlkenderson.com, Facebook, Tiktok, and Instagram. You can also join their reader group or sign up for their newsletter. They always love hearing from their readers.

ALL THAT WE ARE

AN ALL THAT I AM EXTENDED EPILOGUE

RACHEL BROOKES

CHAPTER ONE

BEN

I WAS ANTSY. Unease clawed at my veins, and I hated feeling like I was on the verge of spinning out of control. Life was good, really fucking good, but my need for change lingered in the air like a constant reminder of what I truly wanted.

I’d been thinking about this for a long time. It crossed my mind not only in the quiet moments we shared when we were at our most vulnerable but also during the loud, boisterous times when Sasha laughed with our friends without a care in the world.

It was time to propose to my girl.

Making her mine had been at the forefront of my mind from the very first time I’d laid eyes on her at her family-owned bar, Hamilton’s, when I’d just hit twenty-one, and she was in her late teens. She’d been all blond hair, killer curves, and a sassy attitude. She didn’t know I existed back then, and it wasn’t until thirteen years later that our paths crossed, and my earlier thoughts of making her mine were reignited. She made me work for her heart, which meant the reward of gaining her love was even more exceptional.

But I knew what I wanted to do, and I’d woken up more determined than ever.

I turned gently in bed and looked down at the mass of blond hair splayed across my chest as Sasha slept soundly with her legs tangled with mine. After a night out at Hamilton’s with Austin and Marnie, we’d come home and fucked like wild animals until we passed out due to a combination of alcohol and mind-blowing orgasms. She hadn’t moved once.

As I traced her spine with my fingertips, she mumbled incoherently and turned her head, causing her hair to shift from her face, allowing me to stare at her beauty in the soft light of a new day. I focused on her long lashes that fanned across her cheeks, her pink pout, and the barely-there splatter of freckles across her nose. These quiet moments when the rest of the world didn’t exist were when I began envisioning our future. Without a doubt, Monroe would be our forever home, but what about everything else? Of course, we’d spoken about kids, marriage, dreams, and aspirations. We both knew that we were each other’s endgame. Still, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have moments when insecurities reared their ugly head. I wondered if I was enough for a woman as spectacular as Sasha Hamilton.

“If you weren’t so incredibly handsome and great in bed, I’d call you a creeper for watching me while I sleep,” she whispered, keeping her eyes closed.

“I’ve watched you sleep from the first night I had you in my bed, and I won’t be stopping anytime soon.”

A lazy smile tugged at her lips, and she snuggled in closer. “What time is it?”

I lifted my phone from the side table and glanced at the screen. “Just before seven.”

Groaning, she shook her head against my chest. “Can’t we stay in bed forever and forget about being responsible adults?”

Chuckling, I pulled her across my body until we were chest to chest and her mouth hovered over mine.

“Don’t promise me a good time when I can’t do anything about it,” I growled, slicing my fingers through her hair and tugging gently. “It’s not a secret how much I crave you in the mornings.”

Her eyes opened slowly, bursting with lust as she stared down at me. “But what if I want you to do something about it?”

I claimed her mouth, igniting a fury of need and passion I’d forever experience with her. Every kiss we shared felt like our first. She reacted instantly. Cupping my cheeks, she held me close, deepening our kiss when my tongue found hers. We made out like horny teenagers. Teeth, tongue, and bruised lips. Moans, groans, and whispered sighs.

My cock hardened against her. My need to be inside Sasha grew with every second that passed. I would never get enough of her. She rolled her hips, seducing me with her body while teasing and taunting me with the promise of pleasure only she could offer me.

“You’ve got to get ready for work,” I muttered against her lips. “If you keep rubbing your pussy against my cock, you’ll be late.”

She stole her lips from mine, then whispered in my ear, “Lucky for both of us, I’m the boss, so I make the rules. And today, I want to open a little later than normal. Especially if it’s because my man’s inside me.”

Fuck, I loved this woman.

I flipped her onto her back, shadowing her body with mine. Wide green eyes stared at me, twinkling with mischief and bursting with the need to be filled. My girl loved sex just as much as me, and I loved that even though we’d been doing this thing called life together for a couple of years, we were even more obsessed with one another now than when we first became us.

“You know I love you, right?” I whispered, tucking her hair behind her ears.

Her eyes softened. “And you know I love you.”

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, and I know I never will again. I hope you know my life is now your life.”

“Ben,” she breathed, tears shimmering in her eyes.

Sasha and her girls liked to joke that I wasn’t a man of many words, so when I laid my feelings bare like this, it always received a reaction just like it was now. Even though words and expressing myself vocally wasn’t something I did often, I made sure my actions screamed louder than any words I could say.

But with Sasha, she made me want to whisper how much she meant to me in her ear every chance I got, and I made sure I told her that I loved her numerous times throughout the day whether in person or via text. Because sometimes my girl would fall back into the dark memories of her past. Memories brought on by experiencing what it felt like not to be loved, cherished, or worthy. And when she would become the teenager who was dealt a shit load of pain that no one should ever have to experience, I made sure she knew that she was my fucking world, and I obsessively loved her today, tomorrow, and forever.

I leaned in, claiming her mouth with a kiss that shared a thousand unspoken words. It was a promise. It laid my intentions bare and shared my desire for everything I knew a life with Sasha Hamilton would offer.

Shifting beneath me, she rocked her hips, rubbing herself against my throbbing cock and allowing her body to tell me exactly what she craved. Running my hands down her side, I grabbed her hips, sinking my fingers into her flesh, and held her tight against me. Desperately, she slid a hand between us, and my gasp tore through the room when her petite hand wrapped around my swollen cock. Jesus, fuck.

“Ben, please,” she moaned, squeezing my cock between our bodies.

I nipped at her ear, growling. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you inside me.”

The tension around us grew thick, suffocating the air with need. I fucking loved the moment right before we claimed each other. It was as if the planets aligned and everything was right in the world, and even though we were frantic and desperate, a sense of peace brought on only by her washed through my veins.

“Slow or fast, sweetheart?”

“Surprise me,” she teased, squeezing my cock yet again.

“Line me up with your pussy.” I demanded, pushing hard against her.

Without hesitating, she shifted beneath me, placing the head of my needy cock against the entrance of her soaked pussy. Claiming her mouth again in a bruising kiss, I buried myself as deep as I could inside her, moaning into our kiss as her tightness constricted around my cock. Never in a million years would I take for granted the feeling of pleasure and complete fucking exhilaration brought on by Sasha Hamilton gifting me her body. She was my need, desire, and obsession, all rolled into a gorgeous package that was all blond hair, curves, and sass. And she was mine.

She was fucking mine.

Her fingers sliced through my hair as she held my face against hers and deepened our kiss. We were frantic, needy, and desperate. As if we were starved for one another when the reality was, we could feast on each other whenever we needed. This was how it felt to be with Sasha Hamilton. I couldn’t survive or fucking breathe without her, and once upon a time, that realization would have scared the motherfucking life out of me, but now it did nothing but excite me.

We moved together, taking and claiming everything we could. Her breathing became pants as mine became grunts. We stared at one another, two souls, two bodies knowing we could no longer survive without the other. This was what it was all about. This moment, this second of time.

She moved her fingers from my hair and scraped her nails down my back as she wrapped her legs around my hips, pulling me in deeper. We fucked slow and deep, allowing us to feel every inch of my swollen cock claiming her needy pussy. My girl knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to take control.

“Fuck me wild, Detective,” she moaned, clenching around my cock as I continued moving inside her.

I dropped my mouth to her ear and whispered, “I’ll fuck you today, sweetheart, but even when we are fucking wild, we’ll always be making love.”

She clenched again, this time clenching so hard that I groaned loudly. As I nipped at her ear, her nails dug deeper into my back as I quickened my pace. She met every thrust with a moan, begging me for more and to go deeper.

I didn’t stop. I was a man on a mission to give his girl everything she wanted and then more. It cemented everything I’d been thinking. This was the time; this was the moment to step out of the gray of my past and into the technicolor with Sasha. The realization flashed within my head, bursting like a thousand fireworks that had been waiting impatiently to be ignited.

I saw a future so bright, so unique, so fucking fantastic that the gray would continue to fade. Because with Sasha, even times of darkness still burst with light.

Because she was light.

She was home.

She was mine.

CHAPTER TWO

SASHA

“YOU’RE LATE.”

I looked up from my phone and found Crazy John standing out front of Sass with his arms crossed over his chest and a look of frustration on his weathered face. I rolled my eyes and juggled the travel mug of free coffee I’d just grabbed from Missy’s Diner across the street while trying to blindly find my keys located somewhere in my oversized handbag.

“What are you doing here?” I huffed, after pulling out the keys and then trying to get the key in the lock.

“Let me help you.” He grunted, snatching the keys from my hand to unlock the door. I rushed in to turn off the alarm while he hit the lights, illuminating my pride and joy, my homewares store, Sass. I inhaled deeply and allowed the scent of orange and jasmine that lingered in the air like an intoxicating dream hit my senses.

Crazy John screwed up his nose. “That shit is so strong.”

“Don’t come in here and start complaining about candles. Otherwise, I’ll ban you again.”

His deep laughter bounced off the walls, and I couldn’t stop myself from smiling and shaking my head at his ridiculousness. Crazy John had been a solid part of my life for as long as I could remember. He was Dad’s best friend, and after we lost Dad, he’d become a second dad to me, even encapsulating everything a dad should be. Nosy, frustrating, and opinionated, but more so, caring, loving, and unbelievably protective.

“I’ve got a key, and even if you try to lock me out, I’m on great terms with your boyfriend, so I’ll get him to let me in.”

I rolled my eyes and tried to hide my smirk. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that Ben and Crazy John would become close. The fact that I woke up and found them together in my house, changing my locks the day after meeting Ben, should have been the only indication I needed.

After stepping in behind the counter and checking emails, my attention drifted from the day ahead to the morning I’d just spent with Ben. I found myself reminiscing about the life I’d created with him. From stumbling into him at the diner to being stubbornly pursued and trying desperately to avoid him, to falling head over heels in love, and then the moment I thought I was going to lose him forever. We’d experienced so many highs and lows, good and bad, ugly and beautiful moments. And I knew I’d spend forever with him, but lately, unease had started to creep into my thoughts.

I’d never been the girl who’d planned her wedding from an early age. I’d never dreamed of marrying my celebrity crush. I didn’t have my colors or flowers picked out. I was the complete opposite of my best friend, Missy. Since we were teenagers, she’d been the big dreamer when it came to weddings, but not me. I’d been the one trying to survive heartbreak after heartbreak. I never allowed myself to believe love was part of my future and certainly not marriage or babies. But now that Ben was in my life, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

The thing with Ben and me was that we were similar in so many ways, but we were also blinding opposites. He’d avoided relationships like me, but he was a natural when we kicked things off, whereas I was a hot mess. But we worked perfectly together.

And now I wanted more. No, I needed more.

But I was scared. Scared that I’d given him every indication that marriage and babies were something I didn’t want. Scared that I fought so hard at the begging for us not to be together that he would always remember that. Scared that I would never share his name or witness him as a father.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Crazy John muttered, pulling me out of my deep thoughts and back to reality.

I shook my head. “Nothing.”

“Don’t start lying to me now, Sassy.” He crossed the store and pulled me out from behind the counter, then placed his hands on my cheeks, forcing me to look at him. “Do I need to kick Ben’s ass? Did he do something?”

I chuckled. “No, he’s perfect.”

“So why do you look like you have the weight of the world sitting on your pretty shoulders?”

I shook my head, not wanting to have this conversation here but also knowing that he wouldn’t allow me not to share what was bugging me.

“Life’s good. No, actually, it’s great.”

“But?”

I gnawed on my lip as the words sat on the tip of my tongue. “I’m scared that Ben doesn’t want to marry me or have kids,” I blurted out, cringing that I’d finally said it out loud. “What if my hesitation at the beginning to be his girlfriend means that he doesn’t think I’d ever want to be his wife? What if me trying to push him away makes him think I’m not serious about the life we’re creating.”

Crazy John smiled, and softness spread across his face. “Ben loves you more than I’ve ever seen a man love a woman. He wants you to be his wife, and he wants to have babies with you. Hell, he would upturn his entire world for you.”

Because I’d had a front-row seat to my parents’ relationship, I knew marriages didn’t last forever and sharing children didn’t cement your future, but I couldn’t imagine a world without Ben in it. And I knew the risk of our love imploding would be there with Ben.

“Don’t ever think that he doesn’t love you because he does,” Crazy John whispered, wiping away a stray tear that I hadn’t realized had fallen.

I nodded. “I know he does.”

“Promise me something,” he demanded, wrapping his arm around my shoulder.

“Anything.”

“Remember what I’m about to say when you’re questioning things.” He waited for me to nod before he continued. “You and Ben were made for each other, and no piece of paper or ceremony will change that. But my girl, it’s only a matter of time until he proposes. I know what a man in true, all-encompassing, life-changing love looks like and who wants to claim a woman as his in front of his family and friends, and Ben is that man.”

My heart squeezed hearing Crazy John speak. I allowed his words to sink into my soul because I knew Ben loved me, and I had to hold on to the thought that maybe one day we’d be married and have a family of our own.

“You’re going to make me cry.” I hiccupped, wrapping my arms around his waist and holding on tightly.

“As long as they are good tears, I’m not apologizing.”

I smiled and stepped out of his embrace and headed toward the storage room. After he helped me bring some boxes out to the storefront, I turned to him, still confused as to why he was here.

“What are you doing here?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking nervous. “I have a problem.”

I gnawed on my bottom lip. A Crazy John problem could be anything. He was the type of person you couldn’t make assumptions about because you just never knew what to expect. I stared at him, waiting for whatever bombshell he was about to drop on me.

“Gigi wants to go on a triple date with me.”

Laughter started to bubble within me, but I held it in, waiting for him to spill more details of this so-called triple date.

“She wants to set me up with a lady she met at the hairdresser’s, and she’s also planning on setting Drew up with someone. You need to stop this madness. I don’t want your sixty or however old she is neighbor setting me up on dates, and Drew sure as hell doesn’t want to be set up with anyone either. Stop the madness!”

I threw my head back, and my laughter bounced off the walls. Gigi was mine and Ben’s neighbor. She was the group’s unofficial matriarch and cake supplier. She was brutally honest, would share sex stories in conversation with as much ease as someone talking about the weather, and she was honest about how sexy she thought Ben, Austin, and Drew were. Now that Austin and Ben were in relationships with Marnie and me, she’d set her sights on Drew and Crazy John.

“Maybe it’s a go—” I teased.

He pointed a finger toward me, his eyes shooting wide. “Shut your mouth! It is not a good thing. I don’t need Gigs finding me a lady.”

“When’s the last time you went out on a date?”

I knew I was poking the bear, but it was way too much fun getting under his skin to stop.

He threw his hands in the air in a tantrum reminiscent of a toddler. “I’m leaving. I need to find someone who will take my fears seriously.”

He stormed across the store toward the door, followed by my laughter.

“Love you!” I called out after him.

“Yeah, yeah! I love you too,” he shouted back before leaving Sass and leaving me feeling a hundred percent better.

Five hours later, after a surprisingly busy Saturday, I turned over the closed sign on the door and locked up. I hadn’t heard from Ben all day, which was unusual. Usually, he’d pop in or at least text. But today had been radio silence.

I finished my end-of-day tasks, then climbed into my car, grabbed my phone, tapped into my texts, and pulled up our text stream.

Sasha: Hey handsome, just finished work. Need me to grab anything on my way home?

The blue dots started jumping on the screen immediately.

Ben: How was work? I got called in for a job so I’m not sure when I’m going to be home.

Pouting, I stared at the screen.

Sasha: Okay. I might call the girls for an impromptu girls’ night in.

Ben: Sounds perfect. Love you.

Sasha: Love you too.

After getting home and washing off the day, I pulled on some sweatpants and collapsed onto the couch. It was still early afternoon, but the late fall chill had started to seep into the air. I flicked through random reality TV shows, but nothing got my interest. Grabbing my phone off the table, I clicked into my group text with Missy and Marnie.

Sasha: Are either of you free tonight?

Missy: I live on my own, I’m single, and I have no sex prospects in my future, so yeah, I’m free.

Marnie: I live with my boyfriend, I’m loved up, and I’m getting loads of amazing sex, so yeah, I’m free too.

Missy: Way to rub it in, Marnie! Pfft.

Marnie: Well, let me find you a man! How about Drew? He’s single!

Missy: Drew and I would destroy one another in and out of the bedroom if we ever hooked up.

I swear these girls loved making me cringe with talk about Drew’s sex life.

Sasha: I’m still here!

Marnie: I think Drew would be wild in the bedroom. I’m thinking he’d be into spanking, choking, just a load of kinky shit.

I swear I tasted vomit.

Sasha: Can we please refrain from discussing my brother’s possible sex habits and kinks in chat or anywhere for that matter?

Missy: Thanks, Marnie. Now you’ve planted the idea of fucking Drew in my head.

Marnie: You’re welcome.

Sasha: I’m going to be sick.

Marnie: LOL! What are you going to be like when Drew finds a lady, and she’s added to our group chat and talks about sex with your brother?

Missy: Yeah! We WILL NOT stop talking about sex just because Drew’s lady joins.

Sasha: How did this conversation go to discussing Drew’s sex life?

Marnie: It’s Missy’s fault.

Missy: Hey! You’re the one who mentioned getting loads of amazing sex.

Marnie: True! No regrets!

Sasha: Ladies! Back to the topic! Are you free?

Missy: (laughing emoji) Yesssssssss

Marnie: Yep!

Sasha: Come to my place. We’ll order pizza.

Sasha: And NO talk about Drew.

Missy: Such a buzzkill.

Marnie: IKR

Sasha: (eye-roll emoji).

Marnie: So does that mean we can talk about you and Ben? Wink wink.

Missy: How is Mr. Multiple Orgasm Giver going?

Sasha: Two before sunrise this morning.

Missy: I hate you.

I burst out laughing at my best friend’s go-to comeback anytime I mentioned Ben’s incredible sex drive and the number of orgasms I received from his hands, mouth, or cock.

She was so predictable, and I freaking loved it.

Sasha: Me and my satisfied from multiple orgasm self love you too!

Missy: How do I permanently remove myself from this chat?

Sasha: This is karma for talking about sex with my brother and what kinks he’d have.

Marnie: (eats popcorn and enjoys the show)

Missy: Touché, bestie, touché!

Sasha: See you in a couple of hours.

Marnie: I’ll bring the whiskey.

Missy: I’ll bring wine.

Sasha: I’ll bring the orgasm stories.

Missy: (angry emoji). Great……. Can’t wait.

I threw my head back with laughter. I was in for a good night.

And hopefully, my man wasn’t going to get home too late, so we could end the day how we started it—wrapped up together and head over heels in love.

CHAPTER THREE

BEN

I SAT in my truck at the lookout that offered an uninterrupted view of Monroe, but my attention kept drifting back to the small box sitting on the dashboard. Inside the box sat a diamond ring that would hopefully lead to Sasha becoming my wife. I was confident in our love and relationship, but no man or woman could deny the nerves that sprung to life at the thought that you might have read the signs wrong and your partner wasn’t on the same page as you when it came to marriage and the future.

I wanted this, and I hoped like hell that Sasha did too.

But first, I needed to speak with Drew and Crazy John.

Pulling out my phone, I scrolled down to Drew’s number and hit the call button.

After three rings, he answered.

“Hey,” he murmured, sounding like he’d just woken up, which wouldn’t surprise me, considering he owned Monroe’s most popular bar and was a known workaholic. “What’s going on?”

“Are you at home or Hamilton’s?” I asked, cutting straight to the point.

“I’m at my place. I’ll ask again. What’s going on?”

“I’ve got something I need to talk to you about. I can be there in half an hour. Does that work for you?”

“Yeah, I’ll be here. Is Sasha okay?” he asked, sounding alert and wide awake.

The bond Sasha and Drew shared was formed on love but also hurt, heartbreak, and second chances. They’d been through hell, but they’d survived it together. But where Sasha burst with light, a blanket of darkness still covered Drew, and none of us had been able to pull him out of it yet.

“Yeah, she’s perfect.” I smiled, thinking back to how she’d climbed out of bed on unsteady legs this morning and the sass she sprayed at me when I burst out laughing.

That seemed to satisfy him. “Right. See you in thirty.”

He ended the call, and I exhaled loudly. One down, one to go. I scrolled through my phone and then hit the call button again.

“Benjamin,” Crazy John greeted me, being only one of a few people I allowed to call me by my full name.

“Clancy,” I greeted in return, knowing he would be grinning at my bastard ways of calling him by his real name when everyone knew and referred to him as Crazy John.

“What can I do for you on this gorgeous Saturday afternoon?”

Just as Sasha had been an unexpected blessing in my life, Crazy John had been as well. I’d got a new friend, a father figure, and an added level of comfort knowing he’d die for my girl. I’d never get the chance to meet Sasha’s dad as her boyfriend, but the next best thing was meeting Crazy John.

“Are you free to meet at Drew’s in thirty minutes? I’ve got something I need to discuss with the two of you.”

Just like Drew, his first thought went to Sasha.

“Is my girl okay?” he asked, the jovial tone of his voice switching to panic.

“Yep, she’s perfect,” I repeated the same answer I’d given to Drew.

“I’ll be there in thirty.”

“See you there.”

I went to end the call when his voice hit the air, causing my chest to squeeze.

“Benjamin… Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Okay, I’m happy to hear that. See you soon.”

Twenty-five minutes later, I pulled up outside Drew’s house and switched off the engine. Crazy John’s old red pickup truck was already in the driveway. I knew this moment would be one of the most monumental in my life, so I refused to underplay it. The two men waiting for me could throw my plans to hell. Before I drove myself crazy, I counted to ten in my head, sucked in a deep breath, then stepped out of my truck and headed toward the house.

As soon as I stepped onto the porch, the front door swung open, and a skeptical-looking Crazy John appeared.

“You’re late,” he grunted, frowning as I moved toward him.

“I’m pretty sure I can’t be late, considering I planned this.”

“You said thirty minutes. It’s now thirty-one minutes.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Apologies for the one-minute delay.”

I stepped into Drew’s house to find him leaning against the kitchen counter. He held a clear mug in his hand filled with jet-black coffee.

“Hey,” he greeted, holding out his hand toward me.

Shaking his hand, I gave him my signature chin lift. “Thanks for this.”

Drew and I had shared a good relationship. He made me repeatedly prove that I was good enough for his sister, and I knew I’d pissed him off numerous times since hooking up with Sasha. The truth was, Drew was the type of brother you’d dream about your girl having. He was protective and overprotective at times, but he didn’t overstep. He allowed her to make her own decisions and mistakes, but he was there through thick and thin, and I knew that would be the case for the rest of her life. I respected him a ton.

An awkward hum hung in the air as the three of us stared at one another. I’d never felt this nervous in my fucking life.

“You want to tell us why we’re here?” Crazy John asked, breaking the silence.

“Can we sit?” I asked, nodding toward the living room.

Drew didn’t say a word. He just stared at me with his brow tight as he sipped on his coffee. He pushed away from the counter and headed into the living room, taking a seat on the chair in the corner, while Crazy John and I sat on opposite ends of the modular couch. Their eyes burned into me, the ash of their expectation falling over me. I sucked in a deep breath and closed my eyes briefly, focusing on the gorgeous blonde who’d made this moment a reality.

“Before I start, I just want to assure you both that Sasha’s fine. She’s at home having a girl’s night with Missy and Marnie and likely drinking booze they stole from Hamilton’s and talking about whatever the three of them discuss during girls’ night. She’s okay. She’s perfect.”

They both nodded. Neither said a word because neither wanted to interrupt me.

I rubbed my hand across the back of my neck as nerves trampled down my spine. “I didn’t expect this when I met Sasha. Sure, I’d found her gorgeous from the first time I’d seen her all those years ago. Then she stumbled into me years later, and I knew she was the one for me. She was stunning and sassy, and I wanted to know everything about her. Then she gave me hell. She made me work for her attention, and she didn’t put up with any of my shit. For that, I’ll be forever grateful because that means what we have is as real as it comes, and it’s perfect. It’s us. I knew she was my forever so early on, and I’d never imagined that with anyone else.”

Drew’s gaze narrowed, his face void of emotion, and he still didn’t say a word. In complete contrast, Crazy John’s face beamed with happiness, and his smile told me he knew where this conversation was headed.

“What are you trying to say, Ben?” Crazy John asked.

My thoughts drifted to Sasha and the vision of what our future would look like. I saw her wearing white with flowers in her hair and my ring on her finger. Then with her belly swollen with our babies. And us growing old together and her still calling me out for my bullshit when we were in our seventies and eighties.

“I want to ask both of you, as you two are the most important people in her life, for your permission to ask our girl to become my wife.”

Both men stared at me. Tension lingered in the air. A combination of unease, happiness, and possibilities. I had no fucking clue how long the three of us stared at one another before Crazy John finally broke the silence.

“Drew and Sasha are my entire world. Without them, I’m nothing. We got thrown together because of tragedy, loss, and some really fucked-up experiences, but you know what? I wouldn’t change it. Sure, I’d change my two kids having to go to hell and back, but I wouldn’t change what I got out of it. I might not be their dad—hell, I might not be blood-related at all—but Drew and Sasha are my kids. Their happiness and their peace are paramount to me. That’s all I want for them. And Sasha found that with you, Ben. She gave you hell and made you work your ass off for her heart. You saw her at her lowest, and you were the strength she needed, so you have my complete blessing. It’s been an absolute honor to watch you two fall in love, and I cannot wait to see what your future looks like.”

He rose from the couch and crossed the room, grabbing my hand and shaking it firmly. He pulled me in for a tight hug, and I heard his broken breathing against my ear as his emotions caught up with him. I swallowed hard as my own emotion found its way to my throat.

Jesus.

Drew still hadn’t said a word. Drew could make or break this whole fucking thing.

I stared at him as he stared back at me. I’m sure a million things were running through his mind just as they were running through mine.

“You love her as you’ve never loved anyone before?” he whispered hoarsely.

“Never felt this way about another woman before. And never will again. She’s my world, my life, my heart, my fucking breath.”

He nodded once before continuing. “You’ll protect her until your last breath and then watch over her long after you’ve left this world?”

“I give you my word.”

“You’ll give her the life she deserves, allow her to experience true happiness, and never make her doubt where she stands in your life.”

“She is and will forever be my number one. Even if we have children, Sasha will be my number one.”

He looked away briefly, and I followed his line of sight and landed on a photo of Drew, Sasha, and their dad that Sasha had framed and given to Drew for Christmas last year.

“She’s bruised, Ben. She smiles, but deep down, she’s bruised and tender. I need to know that you understand that. I need to know that I can count on you to protect her, to encourage her to heel, to allow her to continue blooming because it’s been a fucking blessing watching that over the past two years.” His words were laced with a level of emotion I’d never heard from Drew before.

“I love your sister. I never thought a love like this existed. She’s my world, and I’ll spend the rest of my days working on healing her hurt. And I’ll spend the rest of my days helping you too.”

His attention swung back to me. “This isn’t about me.”

“If I marry your sister, you become my brother. So yeah, it’s about you too.”

His brow pulled tight, and he swallowed. “I just want her to find peace.”

“I’ll work my fucking ass off to give her that. And I won’t stop until she’s at a level of peace that she never could have imagined.”

He stood from the couch and walked toward me, encouraging me to stand with him. He held out his hand and, on a handshake, he whispered, “Welcome to the family, brother.”

My body sank with relief. Having their blessing meant I was one step closer to making my dreams a reality. All I needed now was for my girl to say yes to spending the rest of her life with me. Even though I already classed myself as the luckiest man in the world, I knew my lucky streak would soar to a whole new level.

Behind us, Clancy chuckled softly. I looked at Drew, who looked just as confused as I was.

“What are you laughing about?” Drew asked, both of us turning to face him.

He shrugged. “Nothing.”

“You’re losing the plot, old man.” Drew smirked, aware of the randomness of Crazy John.

“Nah, just ecstatic for our girl. But now we just gotta find you some peace.”

Drew scrubbed his hand over his face, shaking his head. “I’m good.”

“Right.” Crazy John scoffed.

I knew Crazy John was worried, but as I watched Drew closely, it was apparent that he was far from good. But I knew what pressure from others to talk and be open about feelings did to a man when he wasn’t ready to talk or move forward because I’d witnessed it with my cousin Fletcher. So I’d wait. And if Drew reached out, I’d be there when he needed me.

“When are you proposing?” Drew asked, drawing the attention back to Sasha and me.

“Tomorrow.”

“Do you know how you’re going to do it?”

I nodded. I knew the details down to the last second. “Yeah, got a pretty good idea.”

I gave them a quick rundown, which caused Drew to smirk the entire time.

“Well, shit, I never thought Ben Hunt would be a romantic fucker.”

“Only the best for your sister.”

Drew smiled for the first time since I’d arrived. “That’s what I wanna hear.”

Ten minutes later, I left Drew’s place and headed to my next destination.

Gigi’s.

She was going to have a fucking field day when she found out the reason for my visit.

She’d been wishing for this moment since she’d turned up on my doorstep with my weekly chocolate cake and found Sasha wearing one of my shirts after we spent our first night together.

Not only was this proposal going to mean my dreams were coming true, but I was certain it would also mean one of Gigi’s biggest dreams was becoming a reality.

Jesus.

CHAPTER FOUR

SASHA

“SWEETHEART.”

In my sleepy daze, I scrunched up my nose and cuddled my pillow tighter. I had to be in the middle of a dream because there was no way Ben was waking me up early on a Sunday morning. We both had the day off, and I’d been waiting to sleep in all week.

I’d felt Ben slide into bed next to me long after midnight. He’d kissed my bare shoulder, whispered that he loved me, and within seconds, he was lightly snoring next to me. From the early days of our relationship, I’d realized that if he was working, I didn’t settle until he was safely next to me. It felt like it was only a few hours ago.

“You aren’t real.” I groaned, turning away from him. “This is a dream, and you are definitely not waking me up.”

His low chuckle confirmed he was indeed real. “I’ve told you repeatedly that I’m real.”

It was true. Since I’d met him, I always questioned if he was real, especially when he’d do something insanely swoony. Although I didn’t place waking me up on Sunday morning as swoony, well, unless it was with his mouth, hands, or cock.

“What time is it?” I whispered, prying one eye open and finding our bedroom washed in darkness with just a hint of daylight.

“Six o’clock.”

“Ben! It’s stupid o’clock. Why are you waking me up?” I grumbled, rolling over to face him. “You’ve lost your mind!”

He chuckled again, annoying me even more because he was such a morning person, whereas I didn’t start functioning until midmorning and after at least two massive cups of coffee. After tucking my hair behind my ear, one of his fingertips ran down my cheek and traced my lips. I pouted, keeping my eyes shut, while inside, his gentle touch was causing my heart to flutter.

“Do you trust me?” he asked softly, running his thumb back and forth across my bottom lip.

I opened my eyes to find him staring at me with a look of complete awe. I loved the way he looked at me. From the moment we met, he looked at me like I was his greatest treasure and great discovery. At first, I didn’t know how to handle it. I’d never had a man look at me with a level of intensity that felt like he was unlocking my deepest thoughts and landing on my soul. But that was Ben and how it had been since day one.

“More than I trust anyone else,” I whispered.

His face softened before he leaned in and kissed me gently. Lazy morning kisses were my favorite. Before I had a chance to deepen the kiss, he pulled away, smirking.

“We need to leave in thirty minutes,” he said before kissing me quickly and then climbing out of bed.

I watched him walk toward the closet, focusing on the curve of his ass, wishing that he would have stayed in bed. It was way too early for anything other than sleep or early morning sex.

I groaned, stretching. “Where are we going this early?”

“It’s a surprise. Now get your ass out of bed and into the shower.”

“So bossy.”

“Just one of the many things you love about me.”

“Pfft. You’re delirious,” I teased, fighting a smile.

His deep laughter rang out through the room, and sure enough, my smile widened across my face. Begrudgingly, I threw back the comforter and shivered as the early morning air slammed into my naked body. I made a point of walking past Ben, swaying my hips, just so he could see what he’d left in bed. I made it one step past him before his arms darted out and wrapped around me, pulling me hard against his firm chest.

“Even after all these years, you still go out of your way to taunt me with your body, and I fucking love it. I promise once we’re back home, we’ll spend our Sunday like we always do. Eating, fucking, making out, and repeat.”

I shivered against his body. Ben never broke promises he made to me, so I knew we would certainly be spending our Sundays just like he described. And I was already counting down the seconds. He patted my ass, and I stepped out of his arms and quickly dressed.

After a quick shower, I pulled on a pair of skinny jeans, threw my hair in a high bun, slipped into one of Ben’s T-shirts, and tied it on my hip. After putting on a little lip gloss, I was ready for whatever we were doing.

He looked up from his phone when I stepped into the living room. Giving me the once-over, he smiled and then held his hand out toward me.

“Ready?” he asked.

I nodded, still in the dark about where we were going so early in the morning.

Hand in hand, we walked outside toward his truck as the sky slowly started to lighten in the distance. The air was still and silent as the rest of Monroe slept peacefully while my mind raced with possibilities.

He opened the passenger door and waited for me to buckle up before closing me in. My eyes followed him as he walked around the front of the truck toward the driver’s side. Anticipation bubbled inside me. I had zero ideas where we were going or what we were doing. But Ben’s energy excited me and the way he kept looking at me, really looking at me, made me want time to hurry up so we could get to wherever we were going.

Before turning the key, he leaned in toward me, resting his lips just over mine, allowing me to feel his breath. It was intimate and filled with promise. I wanted desperately to press my mouth against his, to kiss him senseless, but I waited, wanting to hear or feel whatever he was going to say.

“I love you so fucking much. You know that, right?”

I cupped his face, running my thumb over his cheek and feeling his stubble. Every time he told me he loved me, it always felt like the first time. My stomach flipped, my heart stuttered, and my cheeks bloomed with color. Every time felt like the first.

“I know. And I hope you know how much I love you too. So much, Ben. I’ve never felt this way about anyone else, and I know I never will again.”

“You have no idea how much I love hearing that, sweetheart.”

“I think I do because I love hearing it too.”

After blinding me with a smile, he pulled back and put his truck into reverse, then pulled away from our house. I watched Monroe pass by as we drove toward Main Street. A comfortable silence hung in the air between us. I would look at him, and then I’d feel his eyes on me. We needed no words because the silent glances spoke a thousand words.

My stomach flooded with nervous energy the longer we drove. I wanted to ask him a million and one questions. My conversation yesterday with Crazy John had been occupying my thoughts. I wanted to know where Ben stood with everything. And maybe today would be the perfect day to have that discussion. Well, after we did whatever we were going to do.

Ben started to slow down, and I instantly recognized where we were.

“Are we going to lookout?” I asked, turning toward him with giddy excitement buzzing in my veins.

“How did you guess?” He smirked, winking.

I rolled my eyes and watched the scenery pass as we made the same trip up the mountain that we’d done so many times before. He pulled the truck to the side where we always parked. He turned in the car toward me, leaned over, and kissed me gently.

“I’ve got a surprise for you. Do you promise to keep your eyes closed?”

“Yes,” I replied, closing my eyes.

I heard him get out of the truck, and then I listened for any clues. A short time later, the door next to me opened and the scent of his aftershave swarmed my senses. I bit my lip, containing the moan sitting on the tip of my tongue.

His hand wrapped around mine, and he gently helped me out of his truck. I kept my eyes closed and let him lead me to the unknown. The truth was I’d follow this man anywhere. We walked together in silence. The birds around us sang as the new day slowly began to burst to life. Squeezing his hand, he squeezed mine back. We stopped, and then he gently encouraged me to sit on the bench that I knew provided the most spectacular views of Monroe.

I kept my eyes closed and listened to him moving around me. The birds singing the new day melody ceased to exist because I only wanted to focus on him. It took everything in my power not to peek. I felt his presence before I heard his voice.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice low and intense.

I blinked once, then twice, and my entire world completely shifted.

In front of me, Ben kneeled on one knee, holding out a velvet box containing a stunning diamond ring. He looked so at ease, so confident, so beautiful. My man, my future, my heart. I knew I’d wanted this moment for so long, but now that it was here, it was so much more than what I ever imagined. My hand came to my mouth as tears flooded my eyes. This couldn’t be real.

“Ben,” I whispered as tears spilled over my cheeks. “Oh my god.”

“Sasha Hamilton, you are my world, my life, my present, and my future.” His thumb swept across the back of my hand, and his eyes didn’t leave mine. “I love you more than every breath I take, I need you more than every beat my heart makes, I cherish you more than every beam of sunlight. Will you allow me to be the person you can count on for the rest of your life? I will do everything in my power to keep you safe, protected, and loved and give you the most memorable life you could imagine. I want you to become my wife, sweetheart. I want to be your husband. I want to be your future. Sasha Hamilton, will you marry me?”

I couldn’t believe this was happening. I stared at him, not blinking. Hell, I didn’t even know if I was breathing. This moment meant everything to me. It might sound cliché, but from the moment we met, I had an overwhelming feeling that he was my other half—as if my heart had finally started beating the way it should have all along. All because of him. All because of us. And now, as a new day twinkled to life around us, his attention didn’t budge. His eyes remained firmly set on mine, holding me tightly as his promise of forever hung in the air between us.

“Yes,” I whispered as tears streamed down my cheeks. “A billion times yes.”

His face split with a smile, and he didn’t hesitate for a second before sliding the stunning diamond onto my ring finger. Rising to his full height, he pulled me to my feet, placed his palms on my cheeks, and claimed my mouth with a kiss that cemented the beginning of a new chapter in the adventures of Ben and Sasha. We kissed softly, deeply, lovingly. There was no rush, no desperation, no time limit. It was just him and me, and the world could wait for us. Because right now, only the two of us existed.

“You’ve always made me happy, Sash, but right now I feel like I’m floating amongst the planets.”

A fresh stream of tears cascaded over my cheeks as his words sank in. Wrapping my arms around him, I rested against Ben’s chest, closed my eyes, and allowed myself a moment to get drunk off the endorphins of this moment. I pulled away and rested my chin on his chest, smiling up at him. It was only then that I saw part two of the surprise. Behind him was a picnic blanket spread out in front of the most picturesque view of Monroe covered with pastries, coffee, and…

“Is that chocolate cake?” I gasped, my eyes coming back to his.

“Yep. I made it myself. Well, Gigi helped. You and I shared chocolate cake the morning after our first night together, so it needed to be a part of the picnic. Plus, it’s Sunday, and we both know Sundays involve chocolate cake. But I wanted this one to be special, so I baked my first ever and likely my last chocolate cake for you.”

Okay, that was insanely cute. “When did you make it?”

He tugged on my hand, and we moved toward the picnic blanket and sat opposite one another with the spread of some of my favorite treats between us.

“So about yesterday,” he hummed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t have to work. I spent the day preparing for today. I picked up the ring in the morning, then I met up with Drew and Crazy John in the afternoon, and then spent the night with Gigi making the cake.”

My heart beat hard, lodging itself in my throat. “What did you have to meet with Drew and Crazy John for?”

“Sweetheart, I couldn’t ask your dad for permission to propose, so I asked your brother and the closest man you now have as a dad. I needed to do this right. I needed them both to know what you meant to me and what this meant for us. Sure, I still would have proposed, but I needed their permission. I needed them to know that I would forever protect you and that they didn’t have to worry about my intentions.”

More tears fell as I listened to his words. I wish my dad was here to see this moment, to witness his baby girl fall in love, but the universe didn’t allow that to happen. But the universe gave me a man who I loved more than life itself and who loved me just as much. A man who gave me a family to call my own and who would protect me until my last breath. He allowed me to experience everything I never knew I wanted in life. So even though I wish more than anything that Dad was here, I knew he’d be watching over me and witnessing his baby girl finally finding peace.

“I love that you asked them. That means the world to me. Everything about this is perfect, Ben.”

“This is just the start of our life together, sweetheart. I can’t wait to see what’s next.”

“Babies?” I whispered, looking up at him through tearstained lashes.

Softness caressed his features. “I’m happy with everything we’ve got between us and all that we are, but I’d love to have babies with you. It would be an absolute honor to create a family with you, so if you want babies, then we’ll have babies, but sweetheart, it’s your body, your choice. And that’ll be how it’s always going to be.”

“Why are you so perfect?” I said, hiccupping through a sob.

He laughed deeply, his eyes twinkling. “Fuck, I love you.”

A blush crept onto my cheeks. Even after all this time together, he could still make me blush with a single word or action, and I knew that would forever be the case. I was about to speak, but Ben still had more to say and seemed determined to make me swoon harder than ever and fall even more in love with him.

“If we conceive, if we adopt, if we foster, or have a house full of fur babies or a combination of some or all, I’ll be happy. If I’m doing life with you, I’ll forever be the luckiest man in the world.”

I scooted across the picnic blanket and climbed onto his lap, straddling his hips. We stared at one another, loving one another, promising the world to each other.

“I never thought love would be something I welcomed into my life. Then I met you. You made me see life so differently. You made me believe in love, in hope. You’re the best thing to ever happen to me and the best part of my life. I cannot wait to be your wife. I cannot wait to start a family with you. And I cannot wait to fall even more in love with you every single day.”

His eyes darkened with lust the more I poured my heart out to him. His attention dropped to my mouth as he shifted beneath me, allowing me to feel just how much my words meant to him. My boyfriend—no, fiancé—wanted this moment just as much as I did.

“Let’s pack this up and go home,” I whispered, rocking slowly on his lap. “You’ve already made this Sunday the greatest and most beautiful Sunday in history. So let’s go home and dirty it up a little. We can start working on making a baby.”

He growled and crashed his mouth against mine in a scorching kiss. Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I held on tight, never wanting to let go. The fact that we were out in the open didn’t cross my mind once. All I was concerned about was kissing my man and pouring my love into him. But as quickly as it started, Ben pulled his mouth from mine. He packed up our picnic at record speed, then dragged me to his truck and sped down the mountain toward our house.

I sat beside him, giggling. Completely in love and obsessed with my fiancé.

It was perfect.

We were perfect.

“I love Sundays.” I swooned, smiling at him. “Sundays with Ben will forever be my favorite thing in the world.”

“And you will forever be my favorite thing in the world.”

“Keep making me swoon like that, and we’re going to have a billion babies!”

He faux gasped, his hand moving to his crotch. “I might need to buy a few ice packs for my balls if we have a billion kids! I’ll be raw.”

I stared at him before losing myself in a sea of boisterous laughter. It was barely nine o’clock in the morning, and today had already been the best day of my life.

Thirteen-year-old Sasha, who had just had her world shattered, could never have imagined this could be hers. But thirty-year-old Sasha had started to believe she truly did deserve the world.

And Benjamin Hunt… He was giving her the world.

One Sunday at a time.

Read Ben and Sasha’s epic love story in All That I Am: Books2read.com/AllThatIAm

About the Author

Australian native Rachel Brookes burst onto the author scene in 2013 and hasn’t looked back. When she’s not traveling the world, drinking long island iced teas, or claiming book boyfriends as her own, she can be found writing steamy contemporary romance featuring alpha heroes and sassy heroines whom she makes work hard for their happily ever after.

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UNBOUND

A TANGLED BONDS DUET PREQUEL

RAVEN JAMES

CHAPTER ONE

NOT ANOTHER ONE.

Larin briefed me of the situation, and I grit my teeth, holding back a snarl. A group of kanivo were rumoured to be trapped in a local human manor and kept as servants. Usually, I didn’t have a problem with humans, but some of them viewed anything not human as nothing more than a pet. How anyone could think that was absurd. We were all people, regardless of our species. But convincing those kind of humans to see reason was impossible and talking about it never did anything. Action needed to be taken.

That’s where myself and my friends stepped in. In the past three years alone, we’d helped rescue countless individuals from various situations.

Patting Larin on the back, I told her I’d see her and the others soon at our meeting spot. After a quick nod, she darted off to gather supplies.

I made my way home, losing myself in my thoughts.

There was no doubt in my mind that if my parents had found out about my secret escapades, they would’ve been horrified. Only because of the risk. Both of them had lost so much already, and I guess the thought of losing their precious daughter was unimaginable.

I’d like to think they would’ve understood why I felt it was my duty to help others. As the alpha’s daughter, it was expected I would assist in governing our village. And in some way, rescuing those lost and hurt was part of that. After all, my parents helped keep our home safe, not just for our family, but for everyone that came to Caladah. Pride filled my heart every time I thought of my home. Known far and wide, my village was a safe haven for people of every species.

Regardless of whether my thoughts should’ve been on my duties as the alpha’s daughter or not, I couldn’t break my promise. One I’d made when I was younger to my best friend. To always help those in need.

Gwen.

Despite the years that’d passed since I’d last seen her, I still thought of her often. Not only as my friend, but also as my first crush and kiss. I’d always felt she was my soulbond, even when I was fourteen. Everyone–including my parents–had said that as children we would not understand what a soulbond truly was. Yet, I knew. She was mine, and I was hers. The years or the distance didn’t matter to me, because I’d known I would find her again one day. My beast called to hers as though we’d belonged together. And until she left, we were. Warm summer nights curled under the stars or pinching desserts from the kitchen when no one was looking.

But our time together was short-lived. Her parents left Caladah, taking Gwen and her brother with them.

Eight years have passed since then, but the numbing ache in my heart never ceased. As a fully grown woman, I still hadn’t the slightest interest in mating with someone else, not when I knew my soulbond was out there.

Thinking about the past wouldn’t help rescue anyone.

I sighed, and mentally tallied everything I needed. We’d likely need to use force against those holding them, so weapons were a must. Water and food, enough for my team and those we found. Unfortunately, even Larin couldn’t find out the condition they would be in, or whether they’d be well enough to stand. We wouldn’t expect them to travel if injured. I’d just have to keep my fingers crossed they were well enough to return to Caladah.

After gathering my things, I left them beside the door. I stepped out to check my surroundings and nearly smacked into my mother.

“Oh. Emberleigh. What on earth are you doing running around without looking?”

She gripped my shoulders and checked me over like she’d always done when I was a child, checking for injuries or distress.

Even though I lived alone, my mother always liked to pay unexpected visits. She always worried I isolated myself too much, despite my many friends. Although my past with Gwen was well known, my parents only wanted me to find happiness, often suggesting I should be more open to finding love.

I sighed, gently shaking out of her hold. “I’m fine, mum. Sorry, I can’t stop. I’m heading off to meet some friends.”

She studied me, and I desperately hoped she wouldn’t suspect something, or glance inside.

“Really? Do you often thunder around when meeting others? Or is it just around me?”

I smiled. “Only you, mum.”

She chuckled and shook her head. “What am I going to do with you?”

That’s a question I’d often asked myself. Although, if I hadn’t been able to understand myself after twenty-two years, I wasn’t sure I ever would.

Instead of answering, I merely shrugged. There wasn’t any time to get into a proper conversation with her, but she always was a hard one to shake.

As predicted, she placed her hands on her hips and glared, her eyes sparkling with a hint of challenge. “Emberleigh Lydia Vilkas. Is that some sass I sense in you?” Her lips quirked at the corner. “Glad to see you take after me.”

I returned her smile.

“Anyway, I just wanted to ask if you’d seen your father? He was meant to be back for lunch, but I haven’t seen him. Have you?”

“Not that I can think of, although yesterday he mentioned needing to see Cropper. Something about needing more space.”

“Ah yes, now I remember. They’re working on plans to build a few more cottages. Stars know we need them.”

I nodded, wondering how much time it’d take. It wouldn’t be long before Caladah was overflowing with people. But like me, my parents could never resist helping someone.

Wrapping her in a tight hug, I squeezed before letting go. “I’ll see you at dinner later, okay?” Hopefully.

“Of course. Try to stay out of trouble. I love you, sweetheart.” She patted me on the back, then kissed my cheek, before spinning on her heel and wandering off to find my father.

Once my mum was out of sight, I grabbed my bow and quiver, slung my bag on my shoulder and anything else I could carry, before heading for the meeting spot.

“DOES EVERYONE KNOW THE PLAN?”

A series of nodding and yesses followed, although it hadn’t eased the discomfort in my belly. Nothing ever did. I may have gone storming into danger hoping to save others, but it never got easier. Not when innocent lives were at stake.

I was thankful for my friends. A fox, golden tiger, wolf, stoat, leopard, and sparrow hawk were definitely an interesting mix. Yet they were my closest and most trusted friends. Henley. Zeke. Kal. Aoife. Carter. Larin. I took in each of their faces, memorising everything about them in case things didn’t go according to plan. I bit the inside of my cheek, the sharp sting stopping my mind from wandering into worst-case scenarios.

How we kept our activities secret from the rest of the village I had no idea. Perhaps they knew, yet they chose to stay quiet. Either way, I’d known deep down I was doing the right thing. No one deserved to be kept as a prisoner, nor treated like they’re undeserving and less than someone else. It wasn’t right, and I would’ve done anything to help, even if it was only a little.

I took one last glance around at the others, their faces full of apprehension, yet also determined.

Securing the mask to my face, I slowly inhaled and exhaled. The others slid their masks on until only their eyes were visible.

We gathered our weapons, and with Larin in the lead, we began our mission.

I only hoped we weren’t too late.

CHAPTER TWO

UNDER THE COVER OF DARKNESS, we stalked towards the manor. I scrunched my nose against the faint scent of filth. I could only pray that we’d find the kanivo unharmed. The fear of them not being alive grew the closer we came to the decrepit building.

From what Larin had discovered, this place was a home for a self-appointed human lord and lady. There were always assholes around thinking that they were better than others and making decisions that only benefited them. One way or another, we had to make sure they were thrown out—or at least give the people of the manor a chance to stand up for themselves. That could wait. My primary concern was freeing the kanivo they kept as servants. Despite there clearly being humans that lived here, it was eerily quiet. But why?

Crouching low, I held my fist up signalling the others to stop.

“What’s wrong?” Henley whispered. They crouched beside me, their eyes narrowing and assessing our surroundings.

“I’m not sure. I just have a strange feeling about this.” My fingers gripped the hilt of my dagger, itching to unsheathe and defend against whatever was out there.

Henley squeezed my shoulder, urging me to focus on their eyes. “If you’re concerned, we can leave and gather reinforcements. Perhaps it’s time to tell your parents about all of this?”

I shook off their hand. “Are you mad? Do you have any idea the hissy fit they’d have if they knew what we were up to?”

“You mean what you’re up to?” Zeke said, smirking.

A few sniggers followed from the others, but I paid them no mind. My fox-wolf was antsy, as though something was pulling her towards the building. My head felt as though it was splitting into two. I rubbed my temples, hoping to ease the ache.

“What do you want us to do, Em?”

I swiped a hand down my face and met Henley’s gaze. Besides Gwen, they had been my best friend since we were pups. Their golden fox was almost as playful as my red hybrid, and we’d become fast friends. But what had always struck me about them was their ability to not care for one moment about what others thought of them. And yet they were looking at me for answers about what we should do next. They trusted me, as did the others in our small group. What if I led all of them to a fate worse than death?

Releasing a shaky breath, I rolled my shoulders and stood. “We need to keep going. But stay on your guard. Okay?”

Everyone nodded, yet it didn’t ease the tight sensation in my chest.

Staying close to the ground, we edged closer. We ignored the smaller outbuildings and focused solely on our mission.

Time seemed to tick by slowly until the first set of guards came into view, flanking the entrance of the gatehouse.

I gestured to Henley, Zeke, and Kal to subdue them. We preferred not to kill if possible because any life lost was devastating. Although sometimes it was inevitable, especially if they were a serious threat. Like the mistress and her hunters. I shivered, and my stomach gave an uneasy lurch. That was the last thing I needed to think about.

Not wanting to take any chances, I grabbed my bow and nocked an arrow. Closing one eye, I aimed at the guards, ready to fire if needed.

But my friends worked efficiently together, silently taking down the guards in moments.

Once regrouped, we cautiously entered the manor.

Everything was still and silent. The hairs on the back of my neck tingled as though someone was brushing their fingers across it. My beast wanted to break free, but I held her back. My friends could handle themselves, as they’d proved on multiple occasions, but my fox-wolf was more agitated than usual.

I fixed the bow against my back and made sure the quiver’s strap was tight before unsheathing my dagger.

We kept to the shadows and hurried towards the door Larin had discovered was the entrance to the cellar–or as others had described, a dungeon.

Oddly, there was only one man, barely more than a kid, guarding the entryway.

Why wasn’t there more?

Bile churned in my belly.

I gestured for the others to wait, and I prowled closer to the young man. For a guard, he wasn’t very alert. Instead, he leaned against the wall, his head lolling, and his eyes closed.

Slipping out of the dark, I pressed the blade against his throat. His eyes snapped open and fixed on me, widening.

I leaned in and whispered, “Where is everyone?”

He swallowed. “I—I don’t know.” Squeezing his eyes shut, he trembled. “Please don’t hurt me. I—I didn’t want to be here.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t want no part of this. They said those people weren’t like us and if I let them go, they’d eat me.”

“You mean the shifters your people captured? How many are there?”

He shook his head. “It always changes. Last I heard, there were six or seven. They keep them below. The lord and lady, I mean.”

My blood boiled. Rumours were there were three at most. We hadn’t brought enough supplies to cater to more than five. Stars know how long it would take to get them all back to Caladah. What had taken my friends and I a few hours could be days if the people below were sick and injured.

I glanced back at the others who joined me, then turned my focus back to the guard.

“What’s your name?”

“Gordan. I’m not a fighter, I was the stable hand until five days ago.”

“Where are your masters now?”

“I don’t know, miss. They’ve been gone a while. Took a lot of guards with them. But I’m not sure where they went or when they’ll be back.”

His shivers increased. After a moment, I pulled the blade back in case he cut himself.

Tears streamed down his cheeks. “Are you going to kill me?”

My heart gave a painful twist. He’s just a kid.

I eased the dagger back, then dropped my hand against my hip. Gordan’s questioning gaze met mine.

“No. I won’t hurt you. But you have to help us release the people below.”

Shaking his head, he pressed his back against the wall and hugged his arms against his chest. “No, miss. If I do, I’ll be slaughtered when they return.”

“Do you have family here?” Zeke asked, always thinking ahead, as usual.

Gordan’s head dropped. “No. It’s just me.”

“Good. Uh, what I mean is, you help us out and you can come with us.” Zeke said, slapping him on the shoulder.

“You mean it?” His eyes sparkled. What kind of life did this kid have if he wanted to run away with strangers?

I met my team’s gaze and they nodded, all in agreement to take the kid with us.

“Yes, Gordan. If you can help us get the others out, you’ll have a home in our village.”

“Oh, thank you, miss.” He stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a ring of keys. Thumbing through them, he selected a large one for the door. The satisfying click should’ve reassured me, but my heart had still felt a strange pull leading away from the prisoners. My fox-wolf was fighting inside me to run the other way. I ignored her and followed Gordan down the stone stairs.

The air was damp and the scent of mold was overwhelming. My eyes stung from the stench, but it was nothing compared to the sight before me.

Several barred doors lined either side of the narrow corridor. Each cell contained a person, each dirty and quietly sobbing. Bile climbed my throat. They were kept like animals—no worse than them. My fingers shook when I pointed to the locks on each door. “Release them now. Help the weakest first. Once they’re all freed, get them upstairs and out quickly.”

My friends agreed and set to work with Gordan’s help. I exhaled and tried to settle my stirring beast.

“Emberleigh? Is … is that you?” A rough voice asked from the farthest cell.

I brushed past the others towards the back of the basement.

A white haired, young, dishevelled man reached his hands through the bars towards me. At first, I didn’t recognise him, not until he looked at me.

“Clint? Wha—What are you doing here?” I called for the keys from Gordan and he ran forward, unlocking the door. I swung it open and fell to my knees beside Clint. “Are you hurt?”

“No. I’m alright. Just starving.” He tried to push himself up from the floor, but I held him down. “Let go. I need—I need to get to her?”

“What do you mean?” My heart pounded. Please don’t let her be here too.

“My sister. I need to find my sister.”

My vision grew hazy.

I swayed.

No.

Clint tried to stand again, but I gripped his shoulders and slammed him back down.

“Gw—Gwen?”

Clint swiped his tongue across his chapped lips. He wouldn’t meet my gaze. Icy dread seeped into my bones and my fox-wolf roared inside me. My fingers trembled. My teeth lengthened and grazed my lip. I swallowed and raised my voice until it echoed off the walls.

“Where is she? Where’s Gwen?”

CHAPTER THREE

I’D HURRIED along the corridors, not waiting for the others. Please let her be okay.

My pulse thundered with each step.

I darted around corners, avoiding everything and everyone. The need to find Gwen was greater than my need to fight or keep myself safe.

Taking the stairs two at a time, I followed the memorised route Clint had given me. Each step increased the pull in my heart. My fox-wolf prowled below the surface, clawing and screaming to escape, desperate to find her mate.

I sucked in a breath and my mouth watered. Vanilla and cloves. Gwen.

A heavy wooden door was the only thing that stood between me and my soulbond. Strange. There are no guards in this area. Stars know why she was separated and not in the dungeon with the others.

The doorknob turned with ease. Why wasn’t it locked?

Stepping into the room, I slipped off my mask. My gaze fell to a curled figure in the middle of the small bed.

I choked back a sob. Gwen was terribly thin and pale. Almost wasting away to nothing. Exhaling slowly, I studied her. At first glance there weren’t any wounds visible. But nothing stopped the rage brewing in my belly.

When I saw her wrists, the answer was clear as to why the room wasn’t locked or guarded.

Thick rope bound them together and secured her to a bedpost. I couldn’t hold back the pained cry that ripped from my lips.

She stirred, lifting her head to stare right at me. Recognition flared in her gaze, and my fox-wolf howled. Mate.

“Em—Emberleigh? Is that you?” Her red-rimmed eyes searched mine. “How did you find me?”

Words caught in my throat. Despite her tattered clothes and the smears of grime in her long, white hair, she was still my beautiful Gwen. Her delicate, dark brown skin seemed to beg for my touch. It was all I could do not to scoop her into my arms and run.

I cupped her face, and she leaned into my palm.

“Shh. It’s okay. I will get you out of here.”

“What about my brother? Have you seen Clint? Where is he?” she said before coughing.

“My friends have him. He’s safe. But we need to get you out too.”

Dropping my hand from her cheek, I tenderly checked her wrists. The frayed rope dug into her skin, leaving dark bruises. With shaky fingers, I cut her bonds away.

She rubbed each wrist, but then sagged against me—too malnourished and weak to support herself.

“I’m sorry. I’m just so tired,” she whispered, her breath warming me even through my shirt. My beast’s urge to claim her mate roared inside me, but I held it back. This wasn’t the time or place. Gwen’s body was too weak to hold herself up, let alone accept a mate.

“It’s alright, my darling. I’ve got you.” Stroking her hair, I breathed in her scent. She nuzzled against my neck, delighting my fox-wolf.

“I tried to get back to you.”

My hand paused. Even though I’d known we shouldn’t have lingered, I helped her sit and searched her face.

“What do you mean?”

“Eight years ago. I never wanted to leave you.” A single tear spilled down her cheek. “My parents forbid it. Said it wasn’t right. That you weren’t my soulbond. But I knew you were. They didn’t believe me. Clint did, he always did.”

She trembled in my arms, hiccupping back a sob.

“A few years back, I refused to stay any longer. They didn’t like it, so they … they—.”

Her shivers increased until her whole body shook. I held her against me, but Gwen used what little force she had to push me away.

“I—,” she exhaled slowly, “—I have to show you something.”

She unbuttoned her blouse. Any excitement my fox-wolf may have felt in that moment died. My heart froze and I couldn’t look away. Blood roared in my ears and the urge to vomit nearly floored me.

From her left collar bone to the middle of her chest was a large bright red scar.

I gasped and fought back tears. “What—.”

“My parents. They … They said no one would want me if I was flawed. Kept saying that they needed me to care for them as they got older. That the only reason I was born was to wait on my family, nothing else.”

“How could they do such a thing?”

“They hated me for wanting to come back to you, because it meant I’d found someone I wanted to love more than them. Clint was furious. Told both of them they were dead to us. He came with me.”

I shook my head. Everything was too much to process. “How did you end up here?”

“We ran into hunters and we fled. But the lord and lady’s guards captured us. At first, it wasn’t too bad. They made us feel that they’d let us go once we’d worked enough in the manor. But they put widows root in our drinks. By the time we found out we were too weak to shift or fight back.” Her gaze left mine and focused on her lap. “Even though we worked for them day and night, they wanted more, and because Clint didn’t comply, they threw him in the dungeon with others like us. They threatened to kill him unless I agreed to be their personal maid.”

Her wide eyes met mine.

“I had no choice. I couldn’t risk them hurting him, so I do everything they say. Dressing, bathing, cleaning their quarters, anything they want. Eventually, they stopped adding the widows root to my drinks. They knew I was too exhausted to shift, and even if I did, they would hurt my brother. I–I had no choice.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, dreading the question stuck on my tongue. “Did they hurt you?” The way my voice wavered at the end couldn’t have gone unnoticed.

Gwen shook her head. She blew out a shaky breath and lowered her eyes. “They wouldn’t dare dirty themselves with an animal like me. I’m only good for work, nothing else.”

The way she spoke made my heart shatter. She’d believed their vile words.

Straightening my back, I linked my hands with hers, noticing the calluses on her fingers for the first time.

“Don’t believe a word those monsters say.”

She held back her tears, but her lips trembled.

I pressed a kiss to one cheek. “You are kind.” A kiss on the other. “You are smart.” Another on her nose. “You are beautiful.” The last one was against her lips. “You are my everything.”

Her glacial blue eyes sparkled, her whole face transforming with her smile. My Gwen. My soulbond. Mine.

An echoing thud rang in my ears, breaking me out of our moment.

The door hung from its hinges and where it’d been now stood guards blocking the exit.

We’re trapped.

CHAPTER FOUR

MEN STORMED INSIDE THE ROOM, forming an arc around us. My heart thundered in my chest. I squeezed Gwen’s hand, and she tightened her grip on mine.

A gap appeared as the guards stepped aside. I debated grabbing Gwen and running. But two finely dressed people entered, blocking the doorway once more. The lord and lady. Their eyes narrowed on me, darting to where my fingers linked with Gwen’s.

The woman sneered at me. “What are you doing with our pet?”

Red clouded my vision. “She’s a person. Not a pet. How could you do this to her?” I held my tongue about the others. They needed as much time as possible to escape.

“A person?” The man scoffed. “It’s an animal, nothing more. Merely a thing to amuse and cater to us.” He shrugged, the woman beside him laughing along with him.

My blood boiled. I balled my fist at my side. “Don’t you dare degrade her. The only animals around here are you and your people.”

Pushing myself off the bed, I glared at the humans, the stench of their cruelness making me gag. Gwen touched my lower back, calming me a little, yet it still wasn’t enough. The rage consumed me, not just from their treatment of my mate, but for all kanivo.

The man thrust his finger at Gwen, and I snarled. “That thing is not a person, and neither are you. I know what you are. You’re nothing but pets, and as your lord, I am your master.”

My fingers itched against my hip, desperate to grab my dagger. “I am my own master. And you are not my lord.”

The woman hissed, pushing the man to one side, and glared at me. “You dare speak to us this way? We’ll have you gutted before dawn’s light.”

“Try to hurt either of us and I will take great delight in killing you.” My fox-wolf snarled, the urge to shift and clamp my jaws around their necks almost too much to stand.

They laughed. A gleam shone in their eyes, full of loathing.

“Seize her and bring me my pet.” The woman grinned, ordering the surrounding guards.

Unsheathing my dagger, I held my blade, ready to defend.

Yet no one moved.

The guards shared questioning gazes, as though they were unsure what they should do.

The vile woman stomped her foot and screeched, “Do as I say, or you’ll find yourselves begging for your lives.”

An older man with flecks of grey in his dark hair stepped forward, audibly swallowing. His eyes darted from Gwen’s gaunt face to the discarded ropes by her side. “But my lady, the young woman is injured. It does not seem right to attack either of them. Could we not let them go?”

The lord coughed and spluttered. “Let them go? Are you stark raving mad? Who would attend to us if this vile being takes our servant?”

“Would it not be more agreeable to hire someone healthier to aid you, my lord?” Another person said.

The lord strode close to them. His face twisted into a cruel grin. “Now, why would I wish to part with money when we can get those animals to do it for free?” His mouth formed a hard line. “Know your place. Argue with me once more and I’ll see that it is you in the dungeon, not those things.”

Still, the guards held back. What’s happening?

The older man stood tall, moving in front of the other. “I was not aware we were keeping prisoners. It was to my knowledge that people who worked here were paid, not kept as slaves.”

“For the last time, they’re animals, not people. Now do your jobs. You are testing my patience.” The woman scowled, slapping the guard across the face, her manicured nail scratching his cheek.

He cupped his bleeding face, and glared at her. “Yes, my lady.”

There was no chance to attack or defend. Men grabbed me, forcing my arms behind my back. No matter how much I squirmed, I couldn’t get free.

A fist to my stomach knocked the breath from my lungs.

Gwen screamed my name.

Gasping for air, I could barely make her out. The older guard who’d originally spoken of leaving us held Gwen’s wrist above her head, preventing her from escaping. Reluctance swam in his eyes, and he frowned, as though he wasn’t sure of what he was doing.

A feral growl ripped past my lips.

Red once again filled my vision.

I lashed out, not caring who I hit as long as Gwen was safe.

More hands grabbed at us.

But all I could care about was my Gwen. My mate.

My fox-wolf was furious.

Blood filled my mouth. I swiped my lip over the wound from where my teeth pierced my lip.

“Let. Her. Go.” I hissed with each word, spreading out every tiny amount of alpha energy I may have had. They can’t take her. She’s mine.

“Slit her throat. Make sure our pet watches so she knows what would happen if she tried to leave us.”

They roughly forced me to my knees. Fear and worry for Gwen paralysed me in place. The instinctive need to protect her coursed through my veins. Yet I could do nothing.

Gwen’s scream echoed around the room, then cut off into a possessive howl.

Blinking back the moisture in my eyes, the haze cleared enough to see Gwen’s magnificent white wolf. Her striking blue eyes met mine briefly.

Then she struck.

Even in her weakened state, she easily fought the guards off of me.

Teeth snapping, she formed a wall between me and the men, using her body as a shield.

Even though she snarled, she couldn’t stop trembling. Her malnourished body was already fighting against the shift. It wasn’t long before she collapsed in front of me, slumping to the floor. Her white fur shed away, revealing her bare, brown skin.

I grabbed the sheet off the bed and draped it over Gwen before she fully changed, covering her naked form. Shielding her body with my own, I glared at the guards.

They fell back with sympathetic gazes, almost as though they regretted attacking us.

“What are you doing?” The lady screeched. “I said kill her, not step back as soon as they show their true colours.”

I growled at the hateful people.

Gwen leaned into me, and I cradled her close. Saddened eyes met mine. “I’m sorry Ems. I couldn’t hold it any longer.”

My arms tightened around her. “Shh. There’s no need to apologise. You did good. It’ll be alright.”

“If you will not do your job, then I’ll do it for you.” The lord said, snatching a weapon from a guard. He advanced on us, but the need to hold my mate erased my every thought. Gwen clung to me, and I was powerless to defend.

Covering as much of Gwen’s body as possible, I bowed my head over her and waited for the blow.

But it didn’t come.

“Stop.”

I glanced up, and gasped.

The older man who’d previously held Gwen stood in front of us.

He shook his head at the lord. “You can’t do this, it isn’t right.”

“Get out of my way, traitor.” His already red face burned bright, and spittle flew from the lord’s mouth.

Shouts and curses filled the hallways, the echoes growing closer and closer, until the room filled with their noise.

My friends.

I watched with pride as Henley and Zeke subdued the lord and lady, holding them at knife point. The older guard ordered the others to drop their weapons and surrender. Kal and Aoife dealt with those who didn’t, forcing them to their knees with their arms above their heads.

Help had come, and not a moment too soon. Relief filled every vein. I exhaled slowly, then inhaled Gwen’s warm scent.

Zeke crouched beside us. His eyes darted over us, assessing for injuries. “You found the sister then.”

I nodded. Stroking Gwen’s cheek, I gazed into her stunning eyes, absorbing every moment.

“How can you fools blindly surrender to them? They’re not human. They’ll attack you when you least expect it. Rip out your throat. You should know this. They’re nothing but monsters.” The woman thrashed against Carter, snarling almost as much as one of us.

Standing, I held Gwen against my chest, and she snuggled closer. Crossing the room, I stood in front of the soon to be ex lord and lady, glaring at them.

“Call me whatever name you want. It won’t change that you’re not in charge of me or anyone else. Whatever fancy title you want to give yourselves, it’ll never change the fact that you are the monsters. Not me, not her, and not the others.”

Agreements echoed around the room from not only my friends but also some guards, surprising me.

The woman chuckled. “It doesn’t matter how far you run, she’ll find you.”

I arched a brow.

“Why do you think we collect kanivo? Surely you cannot think it’s just for servants?” She scoffed. “We only keep a few. The others are taken to the mistress.”

My grip tightened on Gwen. “Why?”

“Why not? The mistress pays well and we’re not bothered by your kind. It’s a winning solution for us,” the lord said.

I snarled. The urge to attack burned in my veins.

Zeke roared, transforming before our eyes into his golden tiger.

Guards jumped away.

The woman screamed.

Zeke’s enormous paw pinned the man to the ground by his throat.

Huge teeth primed and ready to rip his throat if given the chance. He deserved it, but I couldn’t allow Zeke to become a monster they believed us to be.

“Stop. Don’t do this.” I ran my free hand along his back.

He growled, low and full of pain.

“Don’t become like them.”

He snapped his jaws at the man’s head one last time before releasing him. Zeke stalked to the door and waited for us.

Climbing to his feet, the man rubbed his neck. He gasped for breath, his eyes wide.

I rolled back my shoulders and glared at him. “Leave these lands and never return. If you’re seen again, we will slaughter you. The same fate you forced upon kanivo when you sold them. We will not show you mercy a second time.”

Offering them a freedom not granted to others was sickening. But no matter how much they repulsed me, I wouldn’t stoop to their level.

I gave a quick nod to Henley, which they returned.

Exhaustion had already seeped into my bones, but it only made me hold on tighter to the woman in my arms.

Cradling Gwen close to my chest, I glanced back at the lord and lady. Their eyes darted around the room, avoiding my friend’s gazes until they fell on mine.

I forced my fox-wolf to stand down. She wanted to destroy them for hurting her mate. I glared, showing every ounce of hate I had for people like them.

“You have no control here. We are the masters of our own destinies.”

CHAPTER FIVE

“GWEN.” Clint barrelled toward us, his legs shaky from his imprisonment.

I reluctantly released my hold on her, and Clint swept her into his arm.

“Are you okay? Does anything hurt? How did you escape? Wha–.”

“Give the girl a chance to breathe.” Aoife laughed.

Clint chuckled and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’ve been so worried.” He pressed a kiss to her head, tightening his arms around her. They both winced, yet grinned despite the aches and pains.

Gwen’s smile was bright, blurring the darkness that clouded my thoughts.

I sucked in a breath, turning to my friends. “Assist the lord and lady with their relocation, please. Any of the guards who wish to go with them may do so. Those who want to stay here are more than welcome. As long as they don’t mind a few of us stopping in now and then.”

Aoife and Kal nodded.

“What about the mistress? Is there anything we can do?” Kal asked.

“To be honest, I don’t know. She’s been a problem for many years, even when my parents were young. I’m not sure there’s anything that can be done. At least not today.”

The mood was sombre despite saving so many kanivo, not only today, but over the years. Aoife surprised me with a hug, and I squeezed back.

“Whatever happens, we’ll always be by your side whenever we’re needed.”

“Thank you.” I chewed the inside of my cheek and glanced back at Gwen.

“I think the most important thing for you now is to go to her. Worry about everything else another day,” Kal said with a grin.

He winked, then grabbed Aoife’s hand, dragging her off to regroup with the others.

I folded my arms. A small grin tugged at the corner of my mouth.

Clint was holding his sister close to his chest, sobbing against her hair. Neither of them let the other go, instead they held tight.

After a while, they pulled back and shared a few whispers–too low for my fox-wolf’s hearing. Clint nudged Gwen toward me.

A faint blush had swept across her cheeks. She flicked her tongue out, wetting her lips.

Silencing my groan, I swallowed down my desire and waited for her to speak.

Her gaze darted across my face like she’d done many times over the years. Each time, I’d always wondered if she’d had the same thoughts and dreams as me.

She nervously smiled. “Is it true? You kept your promise?”

“How could I not?” I smiled, brushing strands of her hair behind her ear. I couldn’t have torn my gaze from her, even if I’d wanted to. Taking her hand, I smiled. “I thought of you and the promise I made to you every day.”

“Kiss and get it over with. I’m bloody starving,” Clint groaned, humour lacing his voice.

He walked away with a huff until we no longer heard his footsteps.

Gwen giggled, and I coughed to hide my laugh.

She shook her head. “He’s always been dramatic about food. We better join the others before he bites off their heads.”

Slipping her hand free, she followed her brother. But I gently gripped her wrist, mindful of her injuries, and tugged her back to me.

She stumbled and braced her other hand against my chest, over my pounding heart. Her eyes met mine, shining intensely.

I cupped her cheek, idly stroking my thumb across her delicate skin. She leaned into my palm.

“I’ve always loved you, you know?”

Gwen’s smile was bright and almost brought me to my knees. The mere thought of worshipping her stole my breath.

Tears gathered in her eyes and she blinked them away.

“No, I didn’t. But I always hoped.” She swallowed. “Because I feel the same way. Always have since we were pups. I never stopped.”

I kissed her cheek, tasting the saltiness against her skin.

Tilting her head, her mouth met mine.

Despite her chapped lips, they were the sweetest thing I’d ever tasted. My tongue sought hers’ and tangled until we both moaned.

My fox-wolf howled, wanting to sink her teeth into Gwen’s supple flesh and claim her. Mate. The quiet voice, which had always been a whisper, was now a roar.

The urge to claim Gwen thundered through my veins. I squeezed my thighs together, the friction not enough to satisfy my aching core.

A soft whimper from her was almost my undoing, but I pulled my mouth from hers, panting.

My forehead met hers. Both of us caught our breaths.

“I love you, Emberleigh Vilkas. For now, and forever, I am yours.”

“And I am yours, Gwyneth Wilks. And when I claim you, know that you have already owned my heart for longer than I can remember. It will be yours for always.”

She kissed me once more, then draped her arms around my neck. I splayed my fingers across her back, supporting her weight. The heat from her skin seeped through her clothes, drawing me closer. Even in her weakened, dishevelled state, her spicy scent of vanilla and cloves filled my senses, calling to my beast.

Soon.

Over Gwen’s shoulder, I spied Clint striding toward us. Clapping his hands close to my ear, he groaned louder than the grumble from his stomach.

“I’m still starving here.” He gave me a playful shove away from his sister. “Play kissy face once our bellies are full.”

Shaking my head, I pressed a kiss to Gwen’s forehead, then linked my fingers with hers.

I couldn’t have contained my grin, or the overwhelming happiness glowing inside my heart when she smiled.

After so many years pining after my lost mate, we were reunited. And I would make sure nothing or no one would ever tear us apart.

THE END

Thank you for reading Unbound. Want to discover more? Untamed is a spicy Rapunzel retelling, reverse harem fantasy romance with primal wolves, a human lover, and sexy twin bear shifters, all ready to claim your heart.

About the Author

Raven James is a fantasy romance author. A wife and a mother of one from England, UK. When she is not writing, Raven loves to read, draw, drink tea, and buy tons of stationary she will never use. Raven writes stories about love, hope, and family. All with a spicy fantasy twist.

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BETWEEN HERE AND NOW

REBECCA PAULA

MATISSE

THE SUMMER NIGHT holds a sharp salt edge and is warm and full of that British Columbia magic I wish I could somehow bottle up and keep for myself. To remind myself that once I was lost and the world opened up and somehow I married Beau Grady.

“Damn,” I mutter, turning over a rose leaf between my fingers. There, on the underside sits a small green caterpillar nibbling holes. I’ll need to spray the roses later. Maybe early tomorrow morning if I can manage a night’s sleep first.

A rustle at the end of the hedge of yellow roses catches my attention. The air perfumes with lavender and myrrh, before a small toddler bounces into view.

“Did you get into the blackberries again?” I ask, throwing my hands on my hips.

My heart swells at the answering giggle. Even on the hard days, and there are plenty of those, I wish I could bottle up the small details of our daughter, too. Like her round cheeks and small pudgy hands, the sweet sound of her singing, and the awe-struck look on her face when she watches the bees at my flower farm.

“Nova,” I say again, sinking down on my knees. I brace myself, knowing what’s coming next. We call it a hug attack. They’re the best hugs in the world.

With the awkward jumble of arms and legs, our almost three-year-old daughter barrels toward me and throws her arms around my neck, squeezing tight. I close my eyes and inhale, desperate to remember this, too.

I stand up with her wrapped around me and smile as she pulls away to bop the small diamond nose stud I wear.

“It’s almost time for bed,” I whisper.

I look toward the long dirt drive that winds out from beneath the cover of a tall pine forest.

“Daddy home yet?”

I shake my head, feeling her disappointment as much as my own as it sinks into my stomach. Beau has been away for nearly two weeks after an historic wildfire threatened Garibaldi Provincial Park. It’s been two weeks of me and Nova, and Beau’s sister Quinn – otherwise known as the world’s greatest aunt—to help me manage everything with the flower farm.

Summer is my busiest season between weddings and local vendor orders and the flower CSA subscription I started offering my community this year.

Our chocolate lab, Bailey, jumps up and barks. Nova and I freeze, quiet, as muffled music rumbles in the distance. It grows louder before a cloud of dust billows out around the black Jeep that emerges from the tree line.

Nova’s little body tightens before exploding with a feral-like energy in a desperate attempt to see her favorite person. She wiggles free.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Nova stumbles, bumping into Bailey, before falling onto her hands. “Oopsie.” She gets up and races ahead, dirty palms reaching out.

I chuckle, watching her rush forward before pinning my stare at the man behind the wheel who’s admiring me. Warm, dark eyes like whiskey. A slow, easy smile that hits me hard in my chest.

That damn dimple.

Smug bastard.

Near two weeks, and even though I’m frozen in the garden, I feel Nova’s urgency to throw my arms around Beau, to rest my head against his shoulder and smell the pine clinging to his tanned skin. To kiss him. To feel him against me.

“Hi,” he mouths.

It’s like I’m instantly back in our old apartment in Portland when I couldn’t help but fall for him, no matter how hard I tried otherwise. When I transferred to Sutton College, I was determined to make up for failing out of a prestigious art school, only to fall for the infamous ex-hockey captain in his senior year with secrets of his own.

I wave, curling my toes into the cool earth of the garden to ground myself.

Married five years, an almost three-year old daughter, a small cottage a few hours outside of Vancouver, and a flower farm later—here we are. Between Portland and now, a lifetime jammed into seven short years packed with exhaustively long days and more adventures than I can count.

Seven years of discovering what we truly wanted through mistakes and wrong choices and a lot of determination. Like Beau deciding to become a Park Ranger instead of a wildness education counselor when he earned his degree in forestry science. Or how I closed my wedding invitation shop because of burnout.

We learned the hard way we never knew how much time we would have, and maybe that’s why we haven’t wasted time in creating the future we want for ourselves.

I inhale, the pine-scented air filling my lungs as the late summer crickets’ chorus swells. Nova’s shrieking splits the air when Beau steps out of the Jeep, sweeps her up in his arms, and spins.

I fall in love with him in a million tiny ways, over and over again. Through the days and weeks, over years, and always under that handsome smirk of his.

I feel the stupid smile on my face before I slowly pad forward, drawn to him.

Always.

BEAU

THE SUN IS SETTING behind the tall pines surrounding the fields of the flower farm when I pull in.

Mati is standing between a row of towering white sunflowers and the roses I helped her plant two years ago. They’re finally blooming this year—big bursts of yellow and light peach.

Seven years now, and this girl is still always surrounded by color.

My girl.

My girls.

Nova races forward on her short legs. My chest swells, and I find myself torn between soaking up the vision of Mati in a white crop top washed in golden light, and racing out of the Jeep in time to scoop up my baby.

Two weeks of long days and nights assisting the BC Wildfire Service safely navigate and contain the latest wildfire in the park I work in as ranger, and I’m exhausted.

“Daddy!” Nova wraps her arms around my neck and squeezes.

I’m not sure where she gets the strength from, but it’s desperate and so fucking full of this humbling innocence. It almost knocks me on my ass.

I kiss her temple, brushing back her fine black hair. I’ve missed the weight of her in my arms, the smell of her baby shampoo, the way her words smoosh together at the end of the day because she’s sleepy.

Somehow, this is my life.

Mati walks up to me slowly. Tortuously slow. She’s wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat, but I can tell by her tan that she’s been working long days outside again. Those emerald green eyes of hers pin me in place. And I stay. But my body aches for hers.

“I missed you,” she says, leaning around Nova to kiss my cheek. Before I can answer, she plucks Nova out of my arms and spins toward our house. It’s not much, but we work on it when we can. It’s near enough to Vancouver, closer to the mountains, and only a few miles from the ocean. Between the flower farm, Nova, and my hectic work schedule, our life is full and busy.

I laugh in spite of myself. I’m not done with her yet. Haven’t even started. But that’s life with Mati. She’s always racing ahead and I try my best to keep up.

The string lights on the white greenhouse cut through the twilight as the last burst of bird calls echo around us. I step up the stone stairs, smiling when I notice the porch ceiling is painted black with gold stars. When I left, it was peeling baby blue.

Mati glances over her shoulder and smiles, shrugging.

“I like it.”

“I’m not sure it’s done yet.”

Nova reaches out and flicks the light switch on the wall, and the rest of the string lights illuminate the pathway in the front yard.

“How was work?” Nova asks me as we step inside the living room.

It opens into a small kitchen and a dining nook overlooking a garden outback by a pond. I’m convinced it’s a mosquito magnet but I love watching Nova feed the family of ducks, so I haven’t filled it in yet.

I stretch, narrowing my eyes playfully at my daughter. “You’ll never guess what we found in the woods.”

Her deep brown eyes grow wide. “A puppy!”

“Hmm, good guess.” I step forward and snatch Nova away from Mati and place her down on the round braided rug of the living room. The ceiling beams are original, and too low, so I duck before I swoop her up and spin her toward her nursery upstairs.

“A big, brown bear.”

Nova tosses up her hands and growls. And it’s the cutest fucking thing. I want five more like her. But I’m happy with Nova. Happy with our little family. Happy that for now, my body is managing Multiple Sclerosis and things are okay. I haven’t had a flare up in over a year.

I swing Nova around so I can haul Mati up against me. I lean down against her ear. It’s killing me not to touch her. “I’ll put her to bed. Sit down for a minute. Rest while you can.”

She digs her elbow into my ribs and blushes, but I can tell she’s thinking the same.

I want nothing more than a shower and a long, slow fuck that makes up for the time I’ve had to spend away from Mati.

MATISSE

I’M WAITING for Beau on the couch thirty minutes later. I place my wine glass on the coffee table and let myself sink into the cushions, finally relaxed.

“She’s getting good at stalling.”

I chuckle, then shrug. “She missed you.”

He nods, then pads over, standing beside me, gazing down.

I’ve been up since five chasing Nova around in between calls with brides and managing the flower farm. I’ve only had one speed for years now, but I’m getting better at carving time out of my day to rest. It’s never easy, and I feel like I fail more than I’d like, but I’m trying. And that’s more than I can say for my sophomore year at Sutton College. I was so determined that work was the only answer.

Beau braces one arm on the back of the couch, and tips my chin up toward him with his free hand. I wiggle my hips, settling into the cushions, studying his lips. My eyes rake over his face, those incredibly dark eyes, that damn dimple.

“Baby,” he whispers.

I part my lips, waiting.

He leans closer, his mouth ghosting over mine.

“Hmm?” My hand reaches for his black T-shirt and freezes. The sliver of space between our bodies is filled with a delicious tension of what’s to come.

When he’s finally home and we have all night to make up for the weeks we’ve been apart.

“I’ve missed you.” His mouth slowly covers mine, and when our lips touch, it’s explosive. It’s hot summer days and the warm burn of a good bourbon.

I tilt my head, and I reach for his waist. My hands slide under his T-shirt, raking over his hard abdomen. I yank him closer as I open my mouth to his tongue. He explores my mouth with way more patience than I possess. I sigh, nibbling my teeth on his bottom lip.

He laughs as our kiss breaks and I yank him down to be next to me on the couch. I want more, always more, but this isn’t the plan.

“Beau?”

He tilts my face again, peppering soft kisses down my neck to that spot on my shoulder that drives me crazy.

I grab his shirt, and tug, wanting it off. The sun has set, the soft light of dusk sweeps over everything. It washes over Beau in shadows, and for a minute, I remember that night he kissed me up against the wall when we were just roommates, when things were much more complicated and messy than now. That night of our first kiss and the way my heart raced in my chest as his hands curved over my breasts and I forgot why exactly we would be a bad idea.

But we were a great idea.

We are.

He sits back to remove his shirt, and he tosses it to the floor. I roll away, crawling up to straddle him, gazing down at him. I’m breathless and impatient, and instead of getting up right away, I lean forward and cradle his face in my palms and kiss his lips until I’m drunk on the taste of him. I run my hands up into his hair, then trail my mouth over his cheeks and down to his jaw before I finally pull away and stand, yanking my shirt off so it lands next to his on the floor.

“Hey, I just started,” he says, his voice low and rough.

It’s my favorite promise.

I shrug, locking eyes with him before I reach behind me and unhook my bra. Then that too ends up on the floor.

I wink before strolling over to the fridge to grab a beer, then call over my shoulder, “Are you coming?”

I don’t wait for his answer. I push through our bedroom door, almost tripping over his hockey gear stacked up by the French doors leading out into the small garden I’ve been working on. I grab my phone and throw on a playlist that starts playing over the Bluetooth speakers Beau installed earlier this spring, then I step outside onto the cool flagstone and moss.

Under a trellis in the corner, beneath strings of lights, is a big clawfoot tub. He laughed when I came home with it a year ago, but it’s my favorite spot after a long day of dirt, bugs, and tantrums.

I strip, standing naked as I draw him a lukewarm bath and pour in some Epsom salt for his sore muscles. He comes to the doorway, filling it up with this look on his face, the one where I know without a doubt that he loves me. His eyes are heavy, studying my body with a stare that might as well burn.

The crickets’ chorus nearly matches the beat of my heart drumming in my chest as I wait.

He’s tired, I know. He hasn’t had a flare up in a year, but he’s tougher on his body than he should be. And hiking in the summer, especially for work, is something his doctors still advise him against, but he’s determined to keep doing it until he’s unable.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he says, never once looking away as he approaches.

“You’re lucky like that.”

He snickers. We both know he doesn’t consider himself lucky after what’s happened, but he’s grateful for what we share. That’s something.

I bend, running my fingers through the water in a slow circle to check the temperature. I peek over my shoulder, narrowing my eyes.“What do I need to do to get you into this bath?”

“Come closer, first.”

I do, wrapping my arms around his neck. And the two of us slowly sway together as I hum along to the Arctic Monkeys.

He kisses me, slow and long and I consider for a minute we should skip the bath, but I reach down and unzip his jeans instead.

“Come on, Mr. Grady. Don’t make me beg.”

“But I like it when you do.”

I flash him a quick, smug smile before I slide my palm over him through his boxers. He hisses, then growls in the back of his throat. He kicks off the boxers before I grab his hand and lead him to the tub. He climbs in first, then reaches for me.

I lean down and give him another drugging kiss before breaking apart and whispering against his ear, “please.”

He tugs me in, and the water sloshes over the sides as we sink in, our bodies tangled under the clear night sky. The lights above us remind me of the elaborate blanket fort Beau built me for my twenty-first birthday. And of the lights he strung up on the deck of our first apartment in Portland where he asked me to marry him one summer night not so long ago.

The scented Epsom salt perfumes the air with eucalyptus and mint. But it doesn’t hide the smoke that still clings to him. I hate wildfire season.

“Oh, almost forgot.” I push up onto my knees and kiss his cheek before I lean out of the tub and grab the beer from earlier.

“I’m glad you’re home. And safe.”

He sips at the beer, his eyes locked with mine the entire time before he hands it over to me.

“I’ve never seen a wildfire so big.” He clears his throat. “I…for a few hours, I wasn’t sure I was going to make it out.”

I stop drinking and set the beer on the floor, then relax into Beau’s arms. Waiting.

“What happened?”

“The winds changed and crews were fighting back the lines. I was with some of the fire chiefs advising on the terrain and another blaze crept up the backside of the mountain. We got out just in time before the fire raced up and took out the fire tower.”

I place my hand against his heart. It races beneath my touch. I slowly take my gaze up from his chest to his neck and then his face, swallowing finally when our eyes connect and I see the hurt in his eyes.

“I can’t lose you both. Any of this. I love you all too much.”

My voice breaks as I nod and say, “We love you too. You’re everything to us.”

“I like what I do. It means a lot to me. But I don’t know that I can love it enough to risk leaving you both alone.”

I cradle his face in my hands as I drag in a breath, his words still crashing into me.

“You can find something else, we’ll be okay.”

“But you’ve worked hard for this flower farm.”

“We don’t have to leave this. What we’ve worked toward doesn’t have to be it for us. We’ve come such a long way. We’ve done so much together. I love our life together. And I will support you no matter what you decide. No matter what happens.”

Beau leans his forehead against mine and lets out a short laugh. “You’re my favorite hurricane.”

“I’m your only…” I stop myself, chuckling. “No, Nova definitely takes after me.”

He kisses my cheek. “Come ride with me tomorrow. Quinn is going to watch Nova.”

I’m not sure there’s anything hotter than Beau Grady on his motorcycle. It’s been a while since we’ve gone on a ride together.

“Okay, but only if we get to drive to the beach.”

“I’ll go wherever you want. Now, we left off somewhere. Come here,” he growls, hauling me against him. “We need more begging, less adult conversation.”

BEAU

FOR YEARS, I found myself up in the mountains. Hiking pushed me and my body, and was the only thing that made sense when my life fell apart.

But that wildfire was different. I saw how quickly it took everything away, and I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that I might not have come home to Mati and Nova.

My body craves hers now. Relief is all I feel as her arms wrap around my neck and I sink my face against her shoulder. I trace the butterfly tattoos with my fingers as I nibble at her salty skin, desperate for more of her.

The summer night air is cooler now, but the rest of me is burning. I’ve been wrapped up in Mati since she crashed into my life. I’ve never been the same, and I never want it to end. Call it greed, impatience, doesn’t matter—I want her.

“Bath time over.” I stand up and grab a towel, then help her out of the tub.

I wrap her up and kiss her forehead before she twirls away, and races into the bedroom through the French doors. I wrap a towel around my waist and follow behind, struck by her silhouette when she sheds her towel and stands before the bed.

“Now,” I say, “where were we?”

She reaches for my towel, and yanks, hauling me closer and leaving me naked. Mati sinks to her knees and blinks up at me with those wide, green eyes.

Fucking hell.

“Here, I think. May I, Mr. Grady?”

She grips my cock in her hand not waiting for my answer. Everything tenses inside me and I swear my knees buckle at her touch. She waits a beat before wrapping her mouth around the head of my cock, then sucks.

“Mati.” It comes out almost as a groan and I’m not sure if I’m begging now or asking for more.

I’m exhausted, but I’ve dreamed of this these past two weeks away. Of her body and mine. Of how fucking perfect we are together.

“I remember a text promising me something,” she whispers, pulling away to stand in front of me.

I reach for her and slowly run my hand up from her hip, her stomach, then cup her right breast before I lean in and claim her mouth in a slow, possessive kiss.

“I can’t remember any texts. I was busy,” I say when we break apart.

“Tease. Sexting is your favorite.”

Mati laughs before wrapping her arms around my neck. I surprise her when I cup her ass and walk us to the mattress. When she’s on her back, I part her thighs, tugging her closer to the edge of the bed and trail kisses down her stomach.

“I missed you,” I whisper, then sink down between her thighs and make good on my promise.

She moans as I part her folds and lick, sticking two fingers deep inside her.

Her hands push me down, and something about it drives me wild.

“Tell me,” I urge. “Tell me what you want.”

“More, always more.”

Mati tenses under my tongue and around my fingers, but I don’t stop. When she comes, a shiver races up my spine. She pulls at my hair, drawing me up toward her mouth. She kisses me, tasting herself on my lips until we’re breathless.

“What do you need, baby?”

She grips my shoulder and shoves me onto my back, straddling me once more. I love this, love watching her move above me, even now as she guides my cock until I’m deep inside of her and we both pause for a moment, breathless.

“How does it feel?” she asks.

I nod, shutting my eyes when she starts to rock against me.

Seven years ago, we raced toward some complicated messy thing and stumbled into this—into love. Seven years ago, I had an MS relapse and doctors found a brain tumor. I didn’t think I would make it. And I sure as hell didn’t think Mati and I would survive whatever waited for us afterward.

But we did.

We finished college, eloped, and moved to Canada. I never did get around to cage diving in Hawaii, but we saved and bought our first house together. We made the best decision ever, and had Nova.

If I’ve learned anything, it’s that no one knows what they’re doing, and I’m done pretending like I do.

We’ve always been better under the stars, and tonight, just proves it again. Seven years later and she’s still galaxies to me.

“I love you, Mati.” I brush back her black bangs before she rests her head against my chest, and the two of us fall asleep.

Together.

Are you ready to fall in love with Beau Grady? Check out the Sutton College series.

About the Author

Rebecca Paula writes angsty contemporary and historical romances featuring flawed characters exploring the complicated bits of life and love. Also, there’s lots of kissing.

When she’s not writing, Rebecca loves ghost hunting shows and true crime podcasts, hiking around New England, and scouring stores for dresses with pockets. Because, let’s be honest, dresses with pockets are the best. She lives in New Hampshire with her husband and two young daughters.

Rebecca loves hearing from readers. Find her online on Facebook, visit her website, or sign up for her newsletter for exclusive content, giveaways, and more.

THE SECOND WEDDING

A LEGACY BONUS EPILOGUE

REBECCA YARROS

KNOX

THE AUTUMN LEAVES on the aspen trees were the perfect shade of Colorado gold as I waited in the grove just over the hill from the country club. Harper’s mom had gone all out to make today perfect, and whatever made Harper happy made me ecstatic.

And sure, technically this was our second wedding, since the first had been a few rushed vows at the courthouse while we were fighting to foster the boys, but it wasn’t every day that a guy got to marry the only girl he’d loved since he was a kid…even if it took said guy a few years to figure out what that chest-aching emotion was.

I was marrying Harper in front of our friends and family today, and that was everything. The rest of it—the music, the venue, the photography for which I was standing here with my back to the hillside—was all just the icing on the sweetest cake imaginable. A year ago, I never would have thought I’d go against my best friend’s pretty-damn-clear wishes to pursue his little sister, but I’d also never expected that I’d end up foster parenting with her, either. And having Harper under the same roof? We were fucking magnetic.

“Just another couple minutes,” the photographer promised from somewhere off to my left as I stared out over the dramatic, Rocky Mountain landscape.

“I don’t mind waiting.” I didn’t—anything regarding Harper was worth waiting for—but I also hadn’t seen her in three weeks thanks to that wildfire in California, which meant my palms were pretty much itching to hold her.

“Do me a favor and don’t turn around until I say,” the photographer added.

“I won’t.” If Harper wanted a first-look picture, then I’d give it to her.

I rolled my stiff shoulders and gave the fabric of my tux a quick sniff, just to be sure I’d showered off all the smoke. Thankfully, we’d made it home early this morning, but I felt like shit about the stress Harper had been through the last week. We’d almost called the whole wedding off, but the wind had shifted two days ago, giving us a much-needed stroke of luck that made getting here possible.

Footsteps sounded behind me, and my pulse leapt.

God, I’d missed her. I’d missed holding her at night, waking up to her snuggled against me in the morning, and every minute in between.

The camera started clicking, and I smiled.

“Okay, you can turn around,” the photographer said, her voice pitching in excitement.

I took a deep breath and turned around.

Ryker, my best friend and Harper’s older brother, stood posed like a 1940’s pinup, fingers over his pursed, parted lips, and his ass stuck out so far I’m surprised it hasn’t ripped the seams in his tux pants.

“For fuck’s sake,” I muttered before releasing the tension in my shoulders and laughing.

He trotted across the space between us and threw an arm over my shoulder. “Sorry about that. She’s running about five minutes behind and asked me to come tell you.”

“I mean, the least you could have done was fully committed to the first-look energy and put on a white dress.” I hoisted my eyebrows at him.

He laughed and nodded. “I will remember that for next time. Bash and Emerson are up next, right?”

“February.” It was about damn time the third best-friend of our trio tied the knot with his first—and only—love. They’d fallen apart when he’d left Legacy to join a hotshot crew without telling her, but restarting our fathers’ crew here in our hometown had brought them back together. “Then who knows. Maybe it’s your turn.” I grinned at the way he blanched.

“Nope. Never. I am not the marrying kind.” He shook his head.

“I once thought the same thing.” I shrugged.

“Yeah, well, I don’t have a Harper out there—” he cringed. “Shit. Not that I’m saying I want someone like my sister. That’s fucking gross. I just mean that I’m not carrying a torch around for some woman from my damaged past, nor do I see anyone in my equally reckless future.”

“Just haven’t met the right one yet.” I looked him straight in the eye, which happened to be close to Harper’s shade but didn’t have her gorgeous aqua tint. “Doesn’t mean she’s not out there.”

“I’m pushing thirty—”

I scoffed.

“Fine, but firmly in the throes of the late twenties, and have yet to meet any woman willing to put up with my stubborn ass for more than a couple months, yet alone manage to convince me to try and change my ways.” He looked down and straightened his boutonniere.

“You could always consider changing your ways before you meet the woman,” I suggested. “You know, do the work just because.”

His brow scrunched like he was considering the matter, but then he huffed a laugh. “Nah. I’ll just be the cool uncle who never settles down.” His pocket rang, and he reached inside the jacket of his tux and pulled out his cell. “Hey, Harpy. Yep. I’ll tell him. See you soon.” He ended the call and looked at me. “She’s on her way over.”

“Thanks.” I bounced like a freaking toddler to kill some of the energy coursing through me.

“Oh.” Every hint of amusement dissolves from his face. “And I know we’ve been over this before, but since it’s her wedding day and I’m her older brother, I’m obligated to remind you that if you ever hurt her, I’ll be forced to murder you in the slowest, most torturous of ways, and then I’ll do you the dishonor of burying you nowhere near our dads…if they ever find your body.”

“Yeah, we’ve been over that.” I couldn’t help but smile as I reached for his shoulder. “And you know that I’ll spend the rest of my life doing everything in my power to make her happy.”

“Good.” He glanced at the single calla lily on my lapel. “And start by straightening that shit. I’ll see you in,” he looked at the screen of his phone. “Twenty five minutes. I’ll be the one at the end of the aisle, making sure your wife doesn’t trip.”

“And then you’ll be the one at my side.” My lips curved into a grin. This was really happening.

“If you get Bash to move the hell out of my way.” He flashed a grin. “But have to say, it’s pretty damn cool that you’re my brother, now.”

“Same.”

He smacked my shoulder, then headed back across the worn hiking path toward the country club, leaving me under the aspen trees.

“Knox?” The photographer called out.

“Yeah yeah, I know. I’m turning.” I faced the opposite direction and then adjusted the pin of my boutonniere to straighten it.

It wasn’t long before I heard the sound of approaching footsteps, these lighter than the previous ones.

“You can turn!” The photographer’s voice pitched the same way as before.

“If it’s just another one of my friends you and I are going to have a talk,” I warned her.

“Turn around, Knoxville.”

That sweet voice hit me like a soft breeze on a sweltering day, and I pivoted, my gaze finding hers immediately.

Fuck, my woman was exquisite. My hand flew over my heart as my eyes swept over her, lingering on her upswept blond hair, her incredible eyes, and her smile-curved lips before dropping to the rise of her breasts under the strapless, lace gown that hugged every delectable curve of her body all the way to the ground.

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. All I could do was stare at my wife.

My wife. After years of longing over that single forbidden kiss, Harper was my wife. My partner. My rock. She was the axis on which my world spun and the only reason the sun rose in the morning. And she was about to stand up in front of our whole community and tell them that she didn’t make a mistake that first time six months ago, she was still choosing me.

“Knox?” Her delicate brows rose as she took a few steps toward me. “Say something.”

Air rushed back into my lungs and I moved forward, striding toward her. “You are the most beautiful woman that has ever lived.”

She grinned and my heart stuttered as I wrapped my arm around her waist and tugged her against me gently.

“And I missed you like hell.” I brought my forehead down to hers and breathed her in. “Every fucking minute I was gone, I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” she whispered, cradling the side of my neck. “And you look like every dream I’ve ever had.”

My fingers curled, and I battled every instinct to crush her against me, knowing it would wrinkle her dress, smudge her makeup, or ruin any of the dozen things she’d done to get ready for today.

She tilted her face up to mine. “Kiss me, Knox.”

Hell yes.

“I’ll ruin your makeup.” I didn’t just want a peck, I wanted to devour her.

“Figured.” She smiled and brushed her lips over mine. “That’s why I paid the makeup artist to wait around another fifteen minutes to touch it up.”

“Before they pronounce us husband and wife?” God, I was going to ruin more than just her makeup.

“We’re already husband and wife. Now kiss me, or I won’t make it through the ceremony without jumping you.” She gently raked her teeth over my lower lip.

Usually, my self-control was a matter of pride, but all it took was the feel of her soft lips, and it shattered. I wanted that kiss more than my next breath.

I palmed the back of her neck and tilted my mouth over hers, kissing her with every ounce of the love, the need I felt for her. My tongue demanded entrance and she whole-heartedly gave it.

She tasted like home, and I couldn’t get enough. It was never enough, not with her. I groaned when she flicked her tongue against mine and I kissed her deeper, sinking into her mouth the way I’d fantasized about while gone.

Harper’s little whimper got my attention in more than one way, and made me raise my head. Two breaths later, I looked over to see the retreating back of the photographer. Thank God, we were alone.

Harper laced her hands behind my neck and pulled me back in.

“I’m going to dishevel you way more than a little lipstick if we keep this up,” I warned against her mouth.

“I vote we skip the entire wedding.” She kissed me like her life depended on it, and I was a goner.

Clasping her ass in my hands, I lifted her and walked to the nearest tree, then turned and leaned back against it so the bark wouldn’t mar the silken skin of her back.

Then I claimed every line and curve of her mouth like it was the first time, breathing in her gasps, her moans, and giving her back my own. My pulse skyrocketed as need barrelled down my spine. It had always been like this with us—electric. I had the feeling it always would be.

She was the flame I’d always stoke and together we would burn.

“Damn, Harper,” I groaned, squeezing the firm globes of her ass. As terrific as she looked in this dress, I knew exactly how fucking delicious she’d look out of it.

“Oh no you do not!” A feminine voice I recognized shouted, and I broke the kiss to see Emerson, Harper’s best friend, stalking toward us, holding up the hemline of her bridesmaid’s dress as Bash hung back, laughing.

“We’re busted,” I whispered, letting Harper slide down the length of my body as she giggled. It was the best sound in the world.

“I cannot believe you two!” Emerson lectured, her dark eyes narrowed on us. “We have less than twenty minutes before the ceremony, and you’re out here like high school kids behind the bleachers!”

“I wish we’d made it to the bleachers in high school,” Harper muttered, winking at me before turning to face Emerson. “Relax, I’m coming.”

“You would have been,” I whispered.

“Oh. My. Good. Lord!” Emerson threw up her hands. “Your makeup!” Then she turned that glare on me. “Your boutonniere!”

“Well, I mean, if it’s already ruined…” Harper spun and kissed me again.

“You two are unbelievable!”

“You’d better go before she spontaneously combusts,” I said against Harper’s perfect mouth. “We have all the time in the world to finish this later.” We had every day for the rest of our lives.

“True.” She gave me another soft kiss and then pulled away. “Oh, and Bash has an extra boutonniere for you.” Her mouth curved into a wicked smile. “Figured I might get a little carried away.” She retreated slowly, keeping her gaze locked with mine.

“I love you, Harper. Yesterday. Today. Every day.” How could I not say it when she looked at me like that?

“And I’ll love you even longer,” she promised before reaching Emerson.

“Save it for the guests who are almost all already here,” Emerson lectured.

“I’ll see you at the altar,” Harper promised as Emerson all but dragged her away.

“Hell yes, you will.” I grinned as she headed back to the venue, then touched my mouth. My fingers came away with the light sheen of pink gloss.

“You ready for this?” Bash asked, waving the boxed boutonniere as I walked the path toward him. “Because I feel like I’ve been waiting ten years to see this happen.”

“I’ve been waiting my whole damned life.” I took the box from him and replaced the crushed flower with the fresh one, and then we continued toward the country club.

My whole life. That’s about as long as I’d known Harper. She’d seen me in every possible phase of my life up to now, both the good and the…unflattering, and she still wanted me. There was something to be said for knowing everything about a person, seeing every dark facet of their soul, and declaring that you wanted all of it.

Finally, after all these years, every part of Harper’s heart was mine.

I and do were the easiest words in the English language when the person was right.

And Harper wasn’t just right for me, she was perfect, and I’d never be anything less for her.

For more of the Legacy Series click here.

About the Author

Rebecca Yarros is the Wall Street Journal and USA Today bestselling author of over fifteen novels, including The Things We Leave Unfinished and The Last Letter. “A gifted storyteller” (Kirkus), she is also the recipient of the Colorado Romance Writer’s Award of Excellence for Eyes Turned Skyward from her Flight and Glory series.

Rebecca loves military heroes and has been blissfully married to hers for twenty years. She’s the mother of six children, ranging from kindergarten to law school, and is currently surviving the teenage years with three of her four hockey-playing sons. When she’s not writing, you can find her at the hockey rink or sneaking in some guitar time while guzzling coffee. She and her family live in Colorado with their stubborn English bulldogs, two feisty chinchillas, and a Maine Coon kitten named Artemis, who rules them all.

Having fostered then adopted their youngest daughter who is nonverbal and on the autism spectrum, Rebecca is passionate about helping children in the foster system through her nonprofit, One October, which she co-founded with her husband in 2019. To learn more about their mission to better the lives of kids in foster care, visit www.oneoctober.org.

To catch up on Rebecca’s latest releases and upcoming novels visit www.RebeccaYarros.com.

DIRTY TRICK

REGINA KYLE

CHAPTER ONE

AINSLEY

“WHAT DID Jake tell you about what we’re doing today?” Brie twists a lock of auburn hair around her index finger, a surefire sign that she’s nervous. She’s not big on surprises, and our guys have been less than forthcoming about whatever they’ve got up their collective sleeves for us. And trust me, they definitely have something up their sleeves.

And if I know them—which I do—it’s either something totally amazing or something epically awful. The last time they pulled one of these stunts, they somehow conned us into running a 5k with them. The time before that, they flew us to Vegas on one of their business buddy’s private jets to see Lady Gaga. See what I mean? Totally amazing—Gaga. Or epically awful—5k. With those two clowns, you never can tell, and there’s no middle ground.

But they’re our clowns. And we love them, red noses, floppy shoes, and all.

Figuratively speaking, of course.

After running some gloss over my lips, I take one last look at myself in the bathroom mirror and nod approvingly. I may not win any beauty contests, but I don’t clean up bad, if I do say so myself. My only makeup is the gloss and a quick swipe of mascara, and my hair hangs in soft, loose waves around my shoulders. Just the way Jake likes it.

Of course, if you ask him, he’ll say he likes me just about any way. Even first thing in the morning, with bedhead and morning breath that could cut through a bank vault. Just another one of the eight million reasons I love him so damn much.

“Nothing more than Connor told you. Just to dress comfortably and meet them at the club at noon.” I check the time on my Fitbit. “Which means we’d better hurry. It’s already eleven thirty, and the cab ride alone will take us almost half an hour. Assuming we can flag one down that quickly.”

Brie nudges me aside to do her own mirror check and scowls at her image—even though she looks like she stepped right out of Vogue, with her perfect bone structure and those gorgeous red-brown curls. She grabs a brush out of her bag and runs it through her hair. “I don’t understand why they want to meet us at Top Shelf. It’s not like it’s open this early in the day.”

I wondered the same thing, but I’m not saying that out loud. No need to get her any more worked up than she already is. “They’re probably giving one of the prospective investors the grand tour and figured it would be easier to get wherever we’re going from there.”

The decision to bring in another partner hasn’t been an easy one, especially for Jake. He likes having control. But the Miami expansion stretched the club’s finances to the limit, and they need an influx of cash if they want to move into other markets, which they do. I swear, those two will settle for nothing short of world nightclub domination.

Besides, Connor—who handles the finances while Jake acts as the pretty-boy front man, making nice with the customers and maintaining order on the club floor—assured Jake that any deal they made would be structured so they retained the majority share, and, with it, the decision-making power.

“Easier for them.” Brie wrinkles her nose at her reflection, apparently still not satisfied with her appearance. Although, for the life of me, I can’t see why. “I mean, what if I was on the call sheet for today? I’d never have made it downtown in time.”

“If you were on the call sheet, we wouldn’t be doing this.”

Whatever this is, I add silently.

As the owner of Odds & Errands, the executive concierge service I started a few years ago, at least I have the option of passing my assignments off to Aaron or Erin, my two assistants. Brie doesn’t have that luxury. She’s an actress, and for the past year, she’s been a regular on a popular Netflix series. Her schedule is the least predictable of the four of us. And the show shoots in Brooklyn, which makes it doubly difficult for us to make any kind of plans until she’s done for the season. Today being the exception.

I take the brush from her hand and set it down on the vanity. “Stop scowling at yourself. You look beautiful. And we’re late.”

Almost forty-five minutes later—getting a cab was every bit the pain in the ass I imagined it would be, and I was about to cave in and open the Uber app on my phone when one finally pulled over—we’re standing outside Top Shelf.

Note that I said outside Top Shelf. Because we can’t get in. The damn club is locked up tighter than a prison.

Brie gives the door handle another tug with the same result as before. Nothing. “Are you sure Jake said to meet them here?”

“Positive. Isn’t that what Connor told you?”

“I thought so, but now I’m not so sure.”

“Has he responded to your text?”

She glances at her phone. “No.”

Jake hasn’t responded to mine, either. Which is strange. It’s not like him to go radio silent, especially not after he made such a big deal about meeting him here today. Texted me three times this morning to make sure one, I was awake since he left the apartment early to hit the gym—or at least that’s what he said he was doing, but now I’m not so sure—two, I knew when and where we were meeting, and three, I remembered to walk Roscoe, his parents’ Irish wolfhound. We’re taking care of him while they’re on another one of their monthlong cruises.

At this rate, he might as well move in with us. Not that either of us would mind. After all, we owe that giant, slobbery beast big time. If it wasn’t for him, and Brie hiring me to help her brother take care of him when their parents won that first cruise, we never would have met.

Just when I’m about to break down and call Jake, my phone chimes with an incoming text. I swipe the screen and read it.

“Is that Jake?” Brie asks.

I nod.

“What does it say?”

I read it again to myself. It still doesn’t make any sense, so I read it out loud to Brie, hoping she’ll be able to make heads or tails of it.

“Check the mail.”

“The mail?”

She scrunches her nose up, either deep in thought on the meaning of my fiancé’s cryptic missive or not liking the smell emanating from the alley next to the club, a toxic combination of garbage, sweat, and cigarettes, with a touch of urine thrown in for good—or bad—measure. I love New York, but man, oh man, it can reek, especially in summer when the temps rise and the sun beats down, baking everything into a steaming, stinky mess.

“What does that mean?” Brie continues. “How can you check your mail if you’re here and not at home?”

Okay, so it’s Jake’s text that’s got her nose in a twist, not the smell. Can’t say I blame her. I’m as in the dark about all this as she is. Although that smell is pretty rank, too. That can’t be good for business. I make a mental note to mention it to Jake when I see him. Whenever that is.

“You got me.” I look around in confusion and spot an envelope sticking out from under the door. “What’s this?”

I pull it out. It’s addressed to me, so I rip it open and unfold the piece of paper inside. There’s another obtuse message, this one in Jake’s familiar chicken scratch. It takes me a second to decipher it.

“To begin your adventure, turn back time and go to the place where diamonds are a girl’s best friend.”

“Oh my God,” Brie squeals, clapping her hands together excitedly. “It’s a scavenger hunt.”

She snatches the paper from me and scowls at it. “Do you know where Jake wants you to go?”

“Jake and Connor,” I correct her. “And not me, us. You’re in this too, remember?”

“Right, that’s what I meant. Us.” She hands the note back to me. “So do you know where we’re going?”

I study the note for a second, and then it hits me. I do know. I know exactly where we’re going.

And all of a sudden, I can’t wait to get there so we can find out what our two lovable clowns have in store for us next.

CHAPTER TWO

CONNOR

“THEY SHOULD BE HERE BY NOW,” Jake says, checking his watch for what must be the hundredth time. Okay, maybe that’s a bit of a stretch. Fifty times, max, in the thirty minutes we’ve been lurking across the street from the Starstruck Diner, trying to blend in with the masses while we wait for Ainsley and Brie to arrive.

I put a hopefully reassuring hand on my best friend and business partner’s shoulder. “Cool your jets.”

He responds with a side-eyed glare that could melt steel. So much for being reassuring. “What kind of grown-ass man says cool your jets?”

“The kind whose best friend is having a mini meltdown.”

I remove my hand from his shoulder since it’s clearly not working. Maybe what he needs right now is some words of wisdom. Other than “cool your jets,” obviously.

“Relax,” I say, keeping my voice calm. That’s how we roll. Jake’s always been the more emotional one, not that you’ll hear him admit that. I’m the cool, collected voice of reason in our friendship and our business partnership. That balance—the push and pull we’ve mastered over the years—is what’s made both so successful for so long. “It’s only been half an hour. Maybe they got stuck in traffic. Or had trouble finding the clue.”

His scowl deepens, drawing his brow together in a dark, concerned slash. “Didn’t you tell Brie where I hid it?”

“No, she wanted to know as little as possible. Claimed it would add to the authenticity of her performance,” I say, putting the last bit in air quotes.

Jake shakes his head. “I told you this whole thing was a bad idea.”

“It was your idea,” I remind him.

“I know, but I told you it was a bad one. You were supposed to stop me, not egg me on.”

“You’re just getting cold feet.”

“Can you blame me? What if she follows all the clues, makes it all the way to the end, and hates the payoff? With my luck, she’ll take one look at the whole setup and run for the hills.”

He runs a hand through his reddish-brown hair, making it stand on end. If it were a little more red and a little less brown, he’d look like the Heat Miser in that Christmas special we loved as kids. Who am I kidding? We still love it. Jake even bought it on iTunes so we can watch it together every year since they hardly ever show it on TV anymore.

Okay, he’s officially gone off the deep end. There’s no way Ainsley isn’t going to absolutely love what’s waiting for her at the end of the scavenger hunt Jake painstakingly designed for her. With a little help from yours truly. And my awesome girlfriend. Who also happens to be one of Ainsley’s best friends. Brie knows Ainsley better than almost anyone. She wouldn’t have agreed to be a part of this if she wasn’t one-hundred-percent sure Ainsley would be on board.

I put my hand back on Jake’s shoulder. It might not have helped before, but my words alone aren’t cutting it, and I’m getting desperate. Maybe the secret to calming him down is the one-two punch of the right words with a little physical encouragement.

“Ainsley is not going to bolt. She wants this as much as you do. Hell, if it wasn’t for the pandemic, it would have happened months ago.”

“Yeah, but that was planned. This is a total surprise.”

He’s got a point. But I don’t have a chance to come up with a decent rebuttal before Jake is shrugging my hand off his shoulder and pointing at two women heading down 51st Street toward the diner.

“I think that’s them,” he says.

I follow his finger. It takes me all of two seconds to figure out that he’s right. I’d know my girl anywhere, even half a block away. The lush, dark curls hanging loosely around her face and brushing her shoulders. The tanned, toned legs that seem to go on forever. The way her hips sway as she sashays ever closer to the diner. And us.

Plus, she’s wearing the outfit she left our apartment in this morning. Skintight jeans, an equally form-fitting hot-pink T-shirt with “I may be wrong, but I doubt it” splayed across her more than ample chest, and her favorite pair of Chuck Taylor canvas high-tops—lilac with pale-pink flowers embroidered all over them.

“Come on.” Jake starts after them, not waiting for me to catch up. “Let’s follow them inside.”

I somehow manage to grab his shirt and yank him back. “Are you nuts? We’re supposed to be watching from afar, not getting all up close and personal. Ainsley will see you. Or you’ll get yourself killed crossing against the damn light. Either way, you’ll ruin the surprise.”

“Yeah, well, like I said, I’m not so sure about this whole surprise thing.”

Great. We’ve come full circle. Now I have to pull a convincing counterargument out of my ass. Stat.

Then I remember something Ainsley said last week, on one of the rare nights when neither Jake nor I were at the club, and the four of us had dinner at our place. Veggie lasagna, Brie’s specialty. And the first thing she ever cooked for me, right after she bullied her way into sharing my apartment with me. Okay, maybe bullied is the wrong word. It was more of a slow seduction. One that ended with her moving from the guest room to my room—permanently—after only a few months.

“Remember last week?” I ask, hoping to jog Jake’s memory. “When you and Ainsley were at our place for dinner?”

“Yeah, my sister made lasagna. Without meat. Again.” He grimaces. “I don’t know why everything she makes is vegan.”

“It’s not vegan. It’s vegetarian. Vegan would mean no cheese, too. And I’m no rocket scientist, but maybe she cooks that way because I’m vegetarian.”

“Right.” He smiles sheepishly. “I keep forgetting that.”

“Your sister manages to remember.”

“That’s because she’s sleeping with you.” He grimaces again. “Something I wish I could forget.”

I decide to put him out of his misery and get this conversation back on topic. “I didn’t bring up last week’s dinner to talk about the food.”

“Then why did you bring it up?”

“Do you remember what Ainsley said when Brie asked her about setting a new date?”

He shakes his head.

“She said if it was up to her, you’d have gone to a justice of the peace as soon as the restrictions lifted. Just you, her, and a few close family and friends.”

“She did?” Jake’s scowl is back, but this time, it’s more confused than concerned.

“You may have been in the other room talking to Frank.” One of the bouncers had called to let us know about an issue at the club. An overdose in one of the VIP rooms. We do our best to keep drugs out of Top Shelf, but every once in a while, someone manages to slip some through security. Fortunately, we keep an overdose prevention kit on hand, and all our bouncers and even some of the bar staff are trained on how to administer Narcan.

Some of the concern drains from Jake’s face, and he even manages a sort of half-smile. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s get a little closer. I want to see Ainsley’s face when Cher hands her the next clue.”

“Cher?”

“Well, she’s not actually Cher. She’s one of the drag queens who performs at the diner. But her ‘If I Could Turn Back Time’ is spot on.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely not. You’ll blow our cover.” I stick one hand out to hold him back before he can make another run for it. The other reaches into my backpack for my secret weapon.

“Here. Use these.” I thrust the binoculars at him. According to Brie, who bought them, technically, they’re opera glasses. But he doesn’t need to know that. All he needs to know is that now he can get a closer look at his fiancée without actually getting closer to her.

“Sweet.” He grabs them from me, holds them up to his eyes, and fiddles with the dials.

“Can you see them? What’s happening?”

“Almost. Give me a second.” He messes with the dials a bit more, then gives a triumphant whoop that startles a woman walking her French bulldog, making both her and the dog flinch. “There they are.”

I give the woman an apologetic smile. She rewards me with a stony stare that screams “your pathetic excuse for an apology is not accepted” and hurries past, dragging the poor dog, who, unlike her, appears ready to forgive and forget in exchange for a scratch behind the ears, along with her.

“Well?” I ask Jake when he continues to stare through the binoculars without volunteering any additional information. “Don’t keep me in suspense. Does Ainsley have the clue?”

“Cher is giving it to her now.” He adjusts the binoculars again. “Or I should say singing it to her.”

Singing? I almost ask but decide I don’t want to know. Or, more accurately, I don’t have time to find out. “Then we better get moving if we want to beat them to the next one.”

“Right. Good thinking. At least one of us has his head on straight.”

“Hey, what’s a best man for if not to point the groom in the right direction?”

Jake hands the binoculars back to me, and I stuff them back in my bag, where I’ve got the rest of the stuff we’ll need today, like our carefully folded vests and bow ties. Then I hoist the backpack over one shoulder and steer him down the street toward the downtown R train, which will take us to clue number three.

CHAPTER THREE

BRIE

IT’S a good thing I’m a hell of an actress because it’s taking every ounce of skill I have to pull this off.

I’ve managed to keep the innocent, totally oblivious act going through the first four clues, which led us to Top Shelf, the diner with the singing drag queens, the Soho Grand hotel, and Hudson River Park.

I’m pretty sure Ainsley has no idea what’s waiting for her at our fifth—and final—stop. But this clue, this destination, is different. And I can tell from her expression that it didn’t take long to figure out that one of these things is most definitely not like the others.

“I don’t get it,” she says, frowning at the note she found—with some subtle hints from me—tucked between the slats of a park bench near Pier 46.

“What’s not to get?” I ask, playing dumb. “The clue’s pretty straightforward. They want us to meet them at the Wisteria Pergola in the Conservatory Garden in Central Park. They even included a picture to make sure we go to the right place.”

I point at the photo, obviously printed off the internet, that’s taped to the bottom of the paper.

“Yeah, but that’s what I don’t get.” She brings the note closer to her face, then holds it out again as if that’s going to help her understand it better. “All of the other clues were riddles of some sort. And they led us to places that were significant to me and Jake. The club, obviously. The diner, where we had our first date. Sort of. I mean, we didn’t know it was our first date at the time, but it totally was. The Soho Grand, where I made him fill a penis piñata with tiny, adorable, totally non-threatening penis gummies for a bachelorette party. And who could forget our epic fight over the merits of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off at Hudson RiverFlicks?”

Not me, that’s for sure. She’s told me about it more than once. And about the equally epic makeup sex she and Jake had afterward. I mean, I get that we’re besties, and girlfriends tend to dish about their sex lives, but he’s my brother, for fuck’s sake. I’ll need brain bleach to get that out of my head.

“Hmm.” She lowers the note and pins me with a stare that’s an uneasy mix of suspicion and incredulousness. “That’s strange.”

“What?”

“Not one of those locations is important to you and Connor. They’re all about me and Jake.”

Damn. She’s got me there. Since I don’t have a good answer, I opt for the next best thing. Or things. Downplaying and distraction. “You’re way overthinking this. Let’s just do what the note says.”

“Fine,” she says, her voice telling me loud and clear that it’s anything but. “But don’t think this is the end of this discussion. I know you know more than you’re telling me. I’m not letting you get off that easy.”

“I never thought you would.” Hoped, maybe. But not thought.

She continues to grill me on the cab ride to Central Park, but I do my best to dodge her questions. Unfortunately, it only seems to ramp up her suspicions. By the time we’re at the Vanderbilt Gate, the ornate, wrought-iron fixture that guards the 105th Street entrance to the Conservatory Garden, she’s verging on hostile.

“I am not going in there until you tell me what’s going on.” She plants her feet in the middle of the sidewalk and balls her hands on her hips, ignoring the sea of people swirling around us like we’re rocks in the midst of a raging river.

“I don’t know any more than you do,” I lie, stepping to one side to avoid a man—boy, really—on one of those electric scooters that have become a popular alternative to the subway since the pandemic.

“Excuse me if I don’t believe you,” she says, holding her ground against the teeming throng. “It’s not a surprise party, is it? My birthday isn’t for a couple of weeks, but I wouldn’t put it past Jake to try to throw me off by having it early.”

“Why don’t you go through the gate and find out before you’re flattened like a pancake by some deranged cyclist and I have to administer CPR until the paramedics get here?”

“That’s oddly specific.” She still hasn’t left the sidewalk, but to my relief, she at least moves out of the flow of traffic. “And cyclists shouldn’t be on here anyway. That’s what bike lanes are for.”

“Are you coming or not?” I ask, mentally crossing my fingers that her curiosity will get the better of her—like it almost always does—and she’ll give in and say yes.

She hesitates for a few seconds, then finally relents, just like I knew—okay, hoped—she would. “Coming. But I’m warning you, if this is a surprise party, I’m out of here. I’m not the big three-oh yet, and I refuse to admit that I’m crossing that milestone until I absolutely have to.”

She follows me through the gate and past the single jet fountain that dominates the center of the Italian Renaissance-influenced garden. I have to admit, my brother was right. This is the perfect spot for an outdoor wedding, with its beautifully symmetrical lawn, neatly clipped yew hedges, pink-and-white-flowering crabapple trees, and of course the curved, wisteria-covered pergola behind the main lawn, where the wedding is to take place.

Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised. Jake has pretty good taste for a guy, as evidenced by Top Shelf’s classy, upscale vibe. Although I was never sure if that was more his doing or Connor’s.

We walk through the garden, and as we approach the stairs leading to the pergola, I spot Brie’s assistants at Odds & Errands, Aaron and Erin, along with her mother, her friend Mia, who she worked with in her past life as a big-city lawyer, and a handful of people I recognize as a mix of clients and employees at Top Shelf. I can tell the second Ainsley spots them, too. She stops walking and grabs my arm in a death grip, forcing me to stop with her.

“Damn you. I was right. It is a surprise party.” She lets go of my arm but only so she can punch my shoulder. Hard. Those full-body spin classes we’ve been taking together are really paying off. For her, at least. “I’m revoking your friendship card.”

Time to fess up. I only hope she’s less annoyed with me, and not more, when she finds out what’s really in store for her. I don’t think I can stomach another punch like that. Girl’s got a hell of a right jab. I’m definitely going to bruise.

“Not exactly.” I point at Connor and Jake, standing off to one side in their matching outfits—crisp, white button-down shirts, sleeves rolled to their elbows, beige linen pants and vests, sky-blue bow ties, and smart-looking classic brown oxfords. They’re chatting with a woman who I assume is the officiant from her understated navy-blue pantsuit and the leather-bound book clutched to her chest, and Jake’s holding Roscoe—wearing an identical sky-blue bow tie clipped to his collar—at the end of his leash. “It’s a surprise wedding.”

“Whose wedding?” Ainsley asks, although from the slightly panicked, slightly desperate look on her face, it’s clear that she already knows the answer.

I grab her hand and give it a hard squeeze for moral support. And so she can’t punch me again.

“Yours.”

CHAPTER FOUR

JAKE

SHE’S HERE. And she’s pissed.

Okay, maybe pissed is too strong a word. But Ainsley’s definitely not a happy camper from the way she’s talking animatedly to Brie at the foot of the stairs, waving her arms and gesturing wildly.

“Shit,” I mumble, turning immediately to the justice of the peace who’s performing our ceremony. I hope. “Sorry.”

She gives me a sympathetic smile and bends down to pat Roscoe—who’s staring up at her with those soulful brown eyes just begging for attention—on the head. “Believe me, I’ve heard worse. Weddings are joyous occasions, but they can also be stressful ones.”

Yeah. I’ll bet. Especially when the bride had no idea that she was getting married today until a few minutes ago.

“I’ve got to go talk to her.” I hand Roscoe’s leash to Connor.

“Wait.” For the second time in the past hour, he puts out an arm out to stop me. “Do you know what you’re going to say?”

Of course I don’t. I’m the king of flying by the seat of my pants. That’s why I have Connor as my best friend and business partner. I’m the spark plug who acts without thinking. He’s the voice of reason who talks me down before I put my foot in my mouth.

“Not a clue,” I admit.

“Want my advice?” he offers.

I shrug casually like we’re not discussing the most important conversation I’ll ever have. “Why not?”

“Speak from the heart. Let her know how you feel and why you went through all this trouble to set this up. When she hears that, she’ll say yes for sure.”

“Sure. Like that’s easy.” I’ve never been the best at wearing my heart on my sleeve. But Ainsley knows how I feel about her. Shouldn’t that be enough?

“Besides,” I continue, “I thought she already said yes. That’s what the giant rock on her ring finger means.”

“To the marriage,” Connor points out. “Not the wedding.”

“Which you promised me back at the diner she’d be cool with.”

“I don’t know that I’d say promised,” he hedges. “Suggested, maybe. But don’t worry. Just talk to her. Everything will be all right.”

He gives me a gentle push toward the stairway that leads from the pergola—now there’s a word I never thought I’d need to know—to the lawn. “Go. Spill your guts. And get your girl. I’ll keep everyone happy up here.”

With a deep breath, an encouraging bark from Roscoe, and thumbs-up from Connor and the justice of the peace, who’s clearly been listening in on our back-and-forth, I sprint down the stairs toward Ainsley and Brie. As I get closer, Ainsley stops talking and shoves her hands in the pockets of her denim cutoffs.

“Hey, babe.”

Great opening line, Shakespeare.

“Don’t ‘hey, babe’ me. You’ve got some explaining to do.”

I take the fact that she’s looking for an explanation as a positive sign. I mean, at least she’s talking to me, right?

“That’s my cue to go help Connor keep the guests from getting restless,” Brie says, giving Ainsley a hug and me an I-tried-my-best-now-it’s-up-to-you look over my fiancée’s shoulder. “Good luck, big brother. And Ains, don’t jump to conclusions before you hear what he has to say. Remember, you guys love each other. And I’ll make an awesome sister-in-law.”

She gives Ainsley one final squeeze and mouths, “You got this,” to me before taking off up the stairs and leaving me with my seriously seething fiancée.

“Well.” Ainsley crosses her arms over her chest, which I shouldn’t find sexy at this moment but damn if my dick isn’t doing a little dance behind my zipper. I will it into submission and do my best to focus on what she’s saying. “I’m waiting. I’m dying to know what made you think it was a good idea to plan a wedding without any input from the bride.”

“But I had your input.” I start to plead my case, then stop, feeling dozens of eyes on the back of my head. I look up the staircase to see the wedding guests watching us like we’re center stage on Broadway.

“Can we talk somewhere more private?” I ask Ainsley hesitantly. To my relief, she agrees, and I lead her away from the wide-open lawn and down a shady path to an out-of-the-way alcove with a curved stone bench.

“What do you mean you had my input?” she asks when we’re sitting.

“Your wedding book. Everything was in there. The cake. The flowers. The officiant. The vows we wrote together. All I really had to do was pick a date, find a new venue—since there was over a year’s wait for the place we originally picked—and get the word out to our family and a few close friends.”

“You found my book?” It’s half question, half statement, but all stunned surprise. “I didn’t even know you knew it existed.”

True, except for the vow writing, I wasn’t that all involved in the original wedding planning. But I’m not a total dick. I paid attention. I knew she had stuff written down somewhere. She’s way too organized not to.

And my sister might just have helped me find it. Not that I’m admitting that right now.

“Of course I knew. I couldn’t have done all this without it.” That part’s not a lie. I’d have been lost without that thing.

“Why did you?”

Her question catches me off guard. “Did I what?”

“Do all this?”

I take her hands in mine. Hers are soft and warm. Mine are damp with nervous sweat.

“Because I want us to be married. And I’m pretty sure that’s what you want, too. As much as I appreciated having your book to go on, the rest of the stuff isn’t all that important. What really matters is right here.” I release one hand to gesture back and forth between us. “You and me.”

“Well, when you put it that way …” She reaches up to cup my cheek, now scruffy with late afternoon stubble even though I started the day clean shaven, and kisses me. A long, lingering kiss, so there’s no doubt that all is forgiven. “My answer is yes. I’ll marry you. Here. Now.”

“Thank fuck.” I kiss her back, and like most of our kisses, this one quickly becomes heated—lips clashing, tongues tangling, hands wandering.

“Not in this, though,” she says when, panting, we finally break apart. She looks down and wrinkles her nose at her jean shorts and Florence and the Machine T-shirt—the same one she was wearing the first time I saw her, on her hands and knees cleaning dog puke off my Persian rug. “That’s where I draw the line.”

“I’d marry you in anything. Or nothing.” I waggle my eyebrows suggestively. “Although I think that would be frowned on in public.”

“Pervert.” Her insult has no teeth, thanks to the broad smile that spreads across her face and lights her eyes.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got that covered, too. Or Erin does. She has your dress, or what I assume is your dress, in an enormous garment bag. She and Brie wouldn’t let me see it.”

“Good. It’s bad luck.”

I stand, holding a hand out to her. She takes it, and I pull her to her feet. “Come on. We don’t want to keep everyone waiting.”

We do since Brie and Erin take what seems to be forever getting Ainsley into her dress and gussied up—my sister’s words, not mine. But no one seems to mind. Especially me, since the result is sheer perfection. I’m not embarrassed to say I cried—actual tears—when I saw my beautiful bride coming down the makeshift aisle toward me.

The rest of the day is perfect, too, from the short but heartfelt ceremony to the dinner afterward in a private back room at one of our favorite restaurants—not the Starstruck, although I’d be lying if I said it didn’t occur to me—to the wedding night sex. Later, when we’re naked and entwined in our king-sized bed, Ainsley sighs contentedly against my chest.

“Thank you, Mr. Lawson,” she says sleepily. “For knowing what I needed even when I didn’t.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Lawson.” I drop a lazy kiss on the top of her head, my own eyes drifting shut, too. It’s been a long day for both of us. But one I wouldn’t change a minute of, not even the minutes when I wasn’t so sure things were going to end this well. “For saying yes. Again.”

Want to see how things started for Jake and Ainsley and Connor and Brie? You can get Dirty Work (Jake and Ainsley’s story) here and Dirty Secret (Connor and Brie’s story) here.

About the Author

Regina Kyle knew she was destined to be an author when she won a writing contest at age 10 with a touching tale about a squirrel and a nut pie. By day, she writes dry legal briefs, representing the state in criminal appeals. At night, she writes steamy romance with heart and humor. She is a three-peat winner of the Booksellers’ Best award: in 2016 for Triple Dare, 2018 for The Billionaire in Her Bed, and 2020 for Dirty Work.

A lover of all things theatrical, Regina lives on the Connecticut coast with her husband and a highly destructive cat with an unfortunate (read: profane) nickname. When she’s not writing, she’s most likely singing, reading, cooking, rooting for the Pittsburgh Penguins, or watching bad reality television.

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ONE WOMAN’S EX IS ANOTHER WOMAN’S ORGASM

A STANDALONE WILDWOOD SOCIETY SHORT

ROXIE NOIR

CHAPTER ONE

I MISJUDGE everything on my very first bite: the amount of cheese, the temperature of the pizza, the floppiness of the crust, and as a result, I burn the roof of my mouth and a string of molten mozzarella flops onto my neck when I pull the slice away.

“Nnngggh!” I think I say, tossing the pizza onto my plate and sort of… waving both hands in the air.

Lucy and Nora look over at me, alarmed and concerned.

“Spit it out!” Nora says. “Quick, no one’s looking!”

“MMPH,” I say, both hands fanning my mouth while I do that thing where you breathe in cool air. It’s not working very well.

“Do you want us to blow into your mouth?” asks Lucy.

“Blow into her mouth?” Nora says. “Like, with our own mouths?”

“It might help!”

I am now shaking my head so hard my hair is falling out of the weird, messy too hot to even think about hair bun it was in. Nora looks horrified. Lucy looks embarrassed. I finally chew my bite of pizza enough to swallow it, and immediately follow it with some water.

“Please don’t ever blow into my mouth,” I tell the two of them. “Let me die instead.”

“It was just a suggestion,” Lucy says, sounding a little defensive.

“Are you going to live? You’re the color of… uh, a very pink thing,” Nora finishes.

“I’m fine,” I say, even though my eyes are still watering a little. Nora and Lucy, of course, are still holding their slices of pizza in front of them, waiting for them to cool off before taking a bite. As always, I’m the impulsive one whose brain short-circuited at the sight of cheese.

“The waitress did tell us it was hot,” Lucy points out, gently.

“And didn’t this happen last time we came here?” Nora adds.

“Yes,” I admit, regretting everything. Well, a few things. Mainly the one thing where I bit into pizza that was too hot. Nora reaches out and pats me on the shoulder, and I’m pretty sure they’re both trying not to laugh. I appreciate the effort.

“Anyway, you were saying,” I tell them, looking down at the slice of pizza that I am not touching for at least another minute or two, “Your coworker secretly swapped his chair with your other coworker’s chair and thought she wouldn’t notice?”

“I’m gonna guess she noticed,” Lucy says.

“She noticed,” Nora confirms, and finally takes a bite of her own pizza. Notably, she does not suffer for it. “And launched a week-long CSI-style investigation into proving that it wasn’t her chair. I swear I overheard her asking security if they had any footage of the cubicle in question.”

“Did they?” I ask, and Nora shakes her head.

“But now we all have to go to sensitivity training for half a day next Friday,” she says. Lucy makes an ugh noise, and I wrinkle my nose because while sensitivity in the office is great, I’m pretty sure Dante wrote about sensitivity training in The Inferno.

“All this drama over a chair,” Lucy says. “Why are people such idiots?”

I lift my pizza to my mouth again as my phone buzzes in my pocket. I jump about a foot in the air and drop the pizza, going for my phone so fast I don’t even wipe the grease off my fingers.

“People think they can get away with anything,” Nora says, and gives me a sideways look. “Is that still hot?”

“No. What? Sorry, my phone. Jumpy for no reason I guess,” I volunteer, sounding extremely cool and collected and not at all weird. “I didn’t think anyone would be texting me right now.”

“Uh huh,” Nora says.

Ash: Got back early, you around?

And I’m pink again as I shove my phone back in my pocket, ignoring the text. Lucy and Nora are both looking at me again with looks that very clearly say Bridget, you’re being weird, but I smile at them and pretend I don’t know what they’re thinking.

“It’s nothing,” I say. “Just my mom wondering if I read that article she sent me yet.”

“What was it about?” Lucy asks, her mouth full of pizza. Nora continues to side-eye me for another minute.

“Dunno, I haven’t read it,” I say, and stuff my own mouth.

We keep talking. Lucy tells us a year-long epic saga of two of her coworkers who waged war over a printer—not even a color printer, a black and white printer. Normally, listening to other peoples’ pointless, petty drama is my catnip, but tonight I’m distracted.

My phone will not stop going off. I don’t want to give anything away by looking at it again, but I also might claw my own skin off in a few minutes if I can’t see what he’s saying. But then again, if Nora or especially Lucy saw the texts, it would go badly for me.

“Anyway, now the toner’s locked in a cabinet and only the office manager has the key,” Lucy says. “I think she keeps it on a chain around her neck so no one can steal it.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Nora deadpans. “It’s what any normal adult in a normal adult workplace would do.”

Buzzzzzz. Buzzzzzzz. Buzzzzzzz. Great. Now he’s calling. I ignore it until it stops, but he calls back.

“Just answer,” Lucy says. “Look, stall her and I’ll read the article and tell you what it’s about. Or I’ll do my impression of you and talk to her myself.”

“You think that would fool my own mother?”

She shrugs. “Worth a shot?”

“Either answer it or turn it off, it’s making me crazy,” Nora adds.

Once I get the chance, Ash and I are going to have a talk about reasonable boundaries and how many times he’s allowed to text in a five-minute period. In the meantime, I wipe the pizza grease off my hands and pull my phone from my pocket, angling the screen away from my friends as I answer it.

“Hi, Mom!” I say, leaning very hard on the second word.

There’s a brief pause on the other end.

“That’s a new one,” Ash says in his low Southern lilt. “Maybe if you said Daddy I could—”

“Sorry, I haven’t read it yet!” I cut him off, my face instantly flushing hot. “But uh, yes, I’ll be careful about going into ponds because of the new amoeba they’ve been finding…”

My mom’s kind of a hypochondriac, and she loves to send me dire warnings about every new virus that’s currently afflicting rabbits in Siberia but could, maybe, possibly, someday become a problem for humans. I love her, but it’s a little exhausting.

On the other end of the line, Ash clears his throat.

“Are you with Lucy?” he asks, his voice now at half-volume.

“Yeah,” I answer, glad for something normal to say. “She and Nora say hi!”

On cue, my friends wave.

“My mom says hi back,” I lie.

“Come over,” he says.

I sigh dramatically and roll my eyes at Nora and Lucy, then stand, pointing at my phone. I have no idea if I’m selling this whole gotta talk to my annoying mom for a minute, sorry, bit, but Ash has been away for two weeks and I… would really like to talk to him.

“Sorry, one minute,” I tell my friends, and then head for the restaurant doors. I don’t talk again until I push them open and am standing on the sidewalk outside, in the almost-cool night air.

“I thought you weren’t back until tomorrow,” I say.

“Surprise,” he answers, that one word low and delicious. “You alone yet?”

“Sort of,” I say, head back against the brick, trying not to think any thoughts that might be too interesting. “I’m on the sidewalk outside Pie in the Sky.”

“What are you wearing?”

I roll my eyes and snort. It’s not the most ladylike sound, but I’m not the most ladylike lady.

“Pizza sauce on my face, probably,” I tell him.

“Sounds hot.”

“It’s nothing, compared to the pizza.”

“Please come over?” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll make it worth your time.”

“Promises, promises,” I tease.

“You know I’m good for it.”

Yeah, I know. God, do I know.

“I’ll come over,” I say, as if there were any universe where I was going to say no.

“I’ll be ready,” he says, and then laughs, and the sound makes me smile at the empty street. “I’ve been ready. Two weeks, Bridge, goddamn.”

“I helped you out that one night.”

On the other end of the line, he sighs.

“Yeah, you did,” he says. “God. That was something else.”

There’s a long, quiet pause. I don’t need him to tell me that he’s thinking about the one night we managed to video chat in the last two weeks while he was on a family vacation.

“Fuck,” he says quietly, and I swallow.

“Don’t you dare do anything until I get there,” I tell him.

“Anything?”

“No coming without me,” I say, lowering my voice, even though there’s no one within hearing distance. Sprucevale is a small town with a large pearl-clutcher population, and I don’t need someone overhearing me outside a pizza joint.

“You gonna be here soon?” he asks, and I take another deep breath, blow it out toward the sky.

“I’ll try,” I promise, and I mean it. “It’s been two weeks for me, too.”

“What should I wear?” he asks, laughing again.

“A condom.”

Ash swallows audibly.

“You got it,” he says.

WHEN I DROP Lucy at her parents’ house, where she’s temporarily living after her old roommate was a total dick, I wait to leave until she’s safely inside because I’m not a monster. Even though maybe I am, a little bit.

I wait until we’re out of the driveway before I speak up, because it feels sort of rude to talk about someone in their driveway.

“Do you mind if I drop you at our place? I’ve got some errands to run,” I say, keeping my eyes forward.

“Sure,” Nora says, and fuck, she already sounds sarcastic. “I assume you’re going to volunteer at a soup kitchen before building an orphanage with your bare hands and then rescuing ten puppies?”

“Something like that,” I say.

“Make some friendship bracelets while you’re at it,” she suggests.

I say nothing, just scrunch my face up, because even if Nora’s being kind of a dick right now, she’s not wrong to be kind of a dick.

“I’ll tell her when she starts a new job,” I say. “And moves out of her parents’ house.”

Nora takes a deep breath and then sighs very, very dramatically.

“Get it over with,” she says. “How mad could she actually be?”

I take my eyes off the road for a second to glance over at Nora, who glances back at me, already a little regretful.

“Okay, point taken,” she admits. “But you should tell her anyway. Maybe in a public place where she can’t stab you.”

“Maybe she’d be fine with it,” I say, not sure who I’m trying to convince. Myself, probably. “It’s been more than a year.”

“She got drunk and cried about it last weekend,” Nora points out, and my stomach twists inside me because yeah, she did. “It was a murderous, angry cry, but still.”

“Shit,” I mutter.

Ash is Lucy’s ex, and Lucy has been one of my best friends since middle school, when we were the only two girls in the trombone section of our middle school band. An experience like that bonds you, and we’ve been close ever since, through high school and college, until both of us wound up moving back home to Sprucevale.

There are plenty of things I could say in my defense: that they only dated for a few months; that by her own admission, it was never that serious between them; that she said the sex wasn’t all that good; that they broke up over a year ago. But, for reasons I still don’t fully understand, Lucy took the breakup way harder than anyone was expecting. She’s still mad at Ash for breaking up with her, still rages about him whenever anyone else says his name, still acts like he’s the worst person in the world when all he did was break up with her.

Obviously, it has more to do with everything else that was happening in her life at the time—her grandmother died, who she was super close to; she got laid off from her job; it turned out her roommate had been taking Lucy’s half of the rent and spending it on a multi-level marketing scheme—but if you try telling Lucy that, she’s likely to bite your head off.

I love her. She’ll get through this and come out the other side and someday this will be funny, but today is not that day.

“Soon,” I tell Nora, who does not look convinced.

CHAPTER TWO

ASH ANSWERS his door in nothing but a pair of boxer-briefs and a smile, which is enough to actually make me speechless for a moment.

“Took you long enough,” he says, grinning his saucy boy-next-door grin as he leans one arm against the door frame, one chestnut curl falling over his forehead.

“What? I—no,” I hiss, and I kind of wave both hands around in a way that’s probably not very erotic. “Go. Go, why are you answering your door naked and backlit, get inside, what’s wrong with—”

Ash pushes me against the wall next to his front door and kisses me hard, his tongue sliding into my mouth, past my admonishments, and I moan, my hands already in his hair. He’s mostly naked already, and I can feel the heat rolling off his skin, turning me gooey and pliable. Ash makes me feel like my bones are melting.

“Nobody was out there,” he finally says when he pulls his mouth off mine, lips moving to my neck. I can feel him smile every bit as well as I can feel his hands under my t-shirt, wrapping around my ribcage and squeezing just hard enough.

“How do you know? It was dark,” I point out.

“No one’s ever out there.”

I slide my hand down his belly, letting the line of hair that descends from his bellybutton tickle my fingers.

“You don’t know that.”

Ash sucks at my neck and grinds against me, my fingertips barely below the elastic on his boxers. I run them along that line, teasing, and he hisses and grabs me harder.

“Then they got a well-deserved eyeful,” he says, and pulls my shirt over my head, throwing it on the floor. Then he takes my chin in his hand and looks down at me, his pretty blue eyes dark, pupils wide. He runs his tongue along his upper lip, and for a moment, I hold my breath because it seems like he’s about to—I don’t know. Say something, maybe.

“You gonna touch it or tease me all night?” he finally asks, voice rough as sandpaper. I shove my hand into his boxers and grab a handful of ass, dragging him against me.

“Touch what?” I ask, and stroke his hip with one thumb, head back against the wall. “Be specific. I’m touching a lot right now.”

Ash just grins and grabs my wrist.

“My dick, you jerk,” he says, and hauls my hand around until it’s pressed against his erection, hot and hard against my palm. I wrap my fingers around it lightly, his boxers still on it, and give it a gentle stroke.

“Oh, this?” I ask. “You should’ve said something.”

He captures my mouth again, slower this time, thrusting himself into my hand as he groans.

“Fuck,” he murmurs between kisses. “Why does your hand feel so much—God—better than mine?”

“Super good at handjobs,” I murmur.

“I could come like this,” he says into my mouth. “Without even getting you undressed first. In my boxers like a teenager.”

“Rude,” I tell him, and slide my thumb over his slit, smearing pre-come around the fat head of his cock. Ash shudders and bites my lower lip.

“Your fault,” he says, and I can feel him smiling again. “Showing up here in shorts like that and being all good at handjobs.”

I stroke him one last time. “Shorts like what?”

His hands are on my thighs. Ash isn’t particularly tall but he’s wide, built like a brick wall, with big hands to match.

“All short and hot,” he says, sliding his fingers beneath the cutoff hem. “You know. Fuck me shorts.”

He slides one thumb into my panties and over my pussy as he says it, and now I’m the one biting my lip and trying not to make a desperate, animal noise at the sudden rough heat.

“Let me hear it,” he says, eyes dark.

“They’re not fuck me shorts,” I say, which is true. They’re the boring-ass cutoffs I threw on to get pizza with friends, because it was a million degrees today and way too hot to think about anything but comfort.

“Hmm,” he says, that grin on his face again, head tilted. He pulls a hand out of the bottom of my shorts, gets the button and the fly undone in about half a second, and slides his hand back in, sinking two fingers into me without a pause, the heel of his hand grinding on my clit. “Really?”

He moves his fingers and hand and God, I feel like I could melt into the wall.

“Because it kinda feels like you want to get fucked,” Ash says, voice low and slow as sin.

“Obviously,” I say, and it comes out all breathy and rough, my head against the wall, my eyes closed. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, you are,” he says. “How do you want it?”

“Soon.”

Then we’re kissing again, and he strokes my clit as he withdraws his hand, fingers slippery from being inside me. His boxers and my shorts come off, and my bra winds up somewhere between his front door and his couch, where he’s got a box of condoms on the coffee table.

“Really?” I tease, already falling onto the couch and pulling him with me. Ash fits between my legs like he was meant to be there.

“You’re the one who told me what to wear,” he teases right back, reaching out to grab one.

“Your bedroom is like twenty feet away.”

He hauls himself up on his knees, still between my legs, and rolls the condom down his cock. I watch, pulsing with anticipation, as he gives himself a good, hard stroke. When he catches the look on my face, he does it again.

“It’s a long twenty feet,” he says. “But if you really want to spend the time…”

“It’s okay,” I say, and roll over onto my hands and knees. Behind me Ash makes a noise somewhere low in his chest and I arch my back, offering myself.

“Jesus,” he murmurs, hands stroking up my thighs to my ass, my back. I push back, wanting his skin on mine, wanting him to touch me and grab me and above all, fuck me the way I can’t stop thinking about. “God, Bridget.”

“Come o—” I start, but then he’s budging his thumb into my pussy and dragging the wetness down to my clit, rubbing me in slow, slick circles that turn whatever I was going to say into a long, drawn-out moan.

“There it is,” he says, other hand still on my lower back. “You wanna come now, or wait until we’re fucking?”

I make a noise that’s not an answer, and I buck back into him, desperate for something more: more pressure of his fingers on my clit, the grip of his hand around my thigh, the slide of his cock against my entrance. I know he just asked me a question but I’m mindless, a molten pool of want and need and—

“Bridget,” he says, and his fingers on my clit slow until they’re brushing over me, shocks of pleasure that scatter over my skin. “Now, or wait?”

I force my eyes open. It helps.

“Wait,” I manage to get out. “Make me wait.”

He slides his fingers into me again, and there’s something so casual and fucking dirty about it that I moan, then bite my upper arm so I stop moaning.

“You sure?” he asks, and presses his fingers to my clit again, circling. Rubbing. “You seem like you might be pretty close.”

“I’m sure,” I gasp.

“It’s no trouble at all,” he says, and he’s teasing me, fucking teasing me because Ash is an asshole and a jerk and Jesus Christ I want him to fuck me already.

I whimper in response.

“And I don’t mind,” he goes on, and fuck, fuck I’m close, biting my lip to keep myself from coming because now it’s a game, a challenge to see if I can keep my word. “I like fucking you after you’ve already come once. You take me so well when you’re blissed-out and relaxed.”

Now I’m bucking back at him with every stroke of his fingers, getting slower and slower but the pressure is relentless, keeping me right there at the edge. We’ve only been sleeping together for a few months. I have no idea how he’s so good at this, but he is.

“Of course,” he says, and finally stops stroking my clit. I take a deep breath and try not to make a disappointed noise as my clit aches with the loss, my toes curling. “You take me so well all the time.”

Then there’s the thick, blunt head of his cock stroking up me, from my clit to my pussy, and I nearly moan with relief.

“That’s it,” he says, and he pushes in as I push back and the head of his cock slides inside me, pushing me wide. God, it’s good. “Go slow for me.”

I sink back an inch, pause, pull him out. Do it again and take him a little deeper, letting him watch me work himself on his cock. I’m already keyed up, on the edge, and with every thrust he’s hitting all the nerve endings inside me.

“Too slow?” I say, and I mean it to sound teasing but it comes out desperate.

“No,” he says, low and rough. “You’re perfect.”

I have to fight myself to keep up the pace, because I want it all, right now: the hard, relentless rhythm that will make me forget there’s a world outside his front door, the obliteration that follows waiting.

When he’s fully seated at last, his hands wrap around the front of my thighs so tightly he’ll probably leave bruises, and I roll my hips against him, seeking friction or movement or the subtle slide of him inside me.

“This is so good,” he whispers, voice shattered. He lets go of one hip to slide a hand up my spine, and I can feel him trembling, so I bite my lip and flex around him, just to hear the way he inhales. “God. Fuck. You can’t—”

“Come on,” I say, and it works because Ash finally starts fucking me. Slow at first, like he’s trying to hold out, but it’s not long before it’s hard and fast, my elbows braced on the arm of the couch as he pulls me back to meet him. He keeps talking, half nonsense, keeps going on about how good it is and how perfect I feel, and in return I ask for more and harder and probably blaspheme every deity who’s ever been worshipped, but I don’t care.

“Bridge,” he finally warns, sounding like he’s run a marathon. “You gotta come soon if you want it like this.”

He holds back for half a second while I move my arm and brace myself with my left so I can find my clit with my right, the one problem with this position: he’s at a bad angle for clit access and I’m less stable.

“Okay,” I say, once I’ve got two fingers around my clit, and Ash slams into me again, and I can feel the way my pussy stretches around him as he does and fuck, fuck I wish I could see it, but this is so good I can’t really wish for anything else.

I come like a lit match to dry kindling, burning me out from the inside. I push my face into the couch and swear a lot and say Ash’s name at least once. He fucks me through it and past it, the crashing oblivion followed by spirals that work their way through me once it’s over, twisty sensation that was good before and now it’s almost too much, almost, almost—

“Did you,” he gets out, because Ash likes to make sure. I’m too boneless to speak but I manage a thumbs-up that he’ll probably tease me about later, but right now, he just groans and picks up speed, pulling me back against him. I feel floppy, mindless, like I want to let him use me however he wants because this feels good, too, until he finally gasps and swears and goes still, pushed all the way inside me.

A few moments later, his forehead’s on my back. We’re both covered in sweat and his hair drags little trails across my shoulder blades. A droplet falls from my nose to the arm of his couch, and I couldn’t care less.

“Nnngh,” I say.

“Yeah.”

He pulls out and I flop down. The couch is too warm against my skin but fixing that might involve, like, moving or something and: no thank you. I hear him go into the bathroom to deal with the condom, and when he comes back out, he swats at one leg until I move, then put both legs in his lap.

“So, how’ve you been?” he asks, and all I can do is laugh.

CHAPTER THREE

“MAYBE THAT’S who he cheated on me with,” Lucy says, tilting the wine bottle into her glass. A little splashes on the counter, and she swipes a finger through it and sticks it in her mouth, because the three of us are very classy.

“He cheated on you?” Nora asks, politely enough, while I take another huge gulp.

“I don’t know. Probably,” Lucy says. “He wouldn’t admit it, but before he dumped me, he started acting weird.”

I drink more because I have no idea what to say to this. Nora looks into her glass—technically it’s a tumbler, not a wine glass, but any glass is a wine glass when there’s wine in it—like she’s giving this new information careful consideration before speaking.

“Have you ever considered therapy?” she finally asks Lucy.

“For having dated an asshole?”

“You’ve been through a lot in the past year,” Nora says, neatly avoiding that particular question. Admirable, truly. “It might help you to process all of it.”

“I love therapy,” I offer, only slightly wine-drunk. “You go and tell someone all your weird thoughts and feelings and they tell you that actually, your weird thoughts are totally normal but also help you deal with them so your weird thoughts and feelings start feeling a little better and maybe not so weird.”

I take another sip to congratulate myself on my very good summary of therapy.

“I don’t think my thoughts and feelings are weird,” Lucy says, because of course she doesn’t. “I think they’re perfectly justified for someone who got cheated on and then dumped.”

“You didn’t get—”

“There’s also your grandmother’s death, and Miranda fucking you over, and your job situation,” Nora points out, ever the adult in the room. “Therapy might help with all those things.”

Lucy just snorts.

“I’m not going to therapy,” she says, and changes the subject. “Are we supposed to be crafting?”

We’re all standing in the kitchen of mine and Nora’s apartment, where we meant to watch some YouTube tutorials and then craft paper flower garlands for another friend’s upcoming bridal shower. So far, we’ve watched one tutorial and gotten wine-drunk when Lucy mentioned that a few nights ago she’d gone out to dinner with her brother and they saw Ash eating with some girl, and the vibe in my kitchen got real weird.

“What if we made her a garland of wine corks instead?” I ask. “Does that also have a classy ‘love time in the spring’ vibe, or…”

“I vote we buy some off Amazon, make them look a little scruffy, and say we made them,” Nora says. “Gwen’s not going to care, this is all her mom’s idea. And we don’t answer to Gwen’s mom, at least not after this bridal shower.”

“Done. Cheers,” I say, and Lucy says, “Hell yes,” and we all clink our glasses together and thankfully talk about something besides Ash.

“I WANT A PLAN,” Nora says later, after Lucy Ubers home.

“Leave the dishes for tomorrow, brush my teeth, and go to bed,” I say.

Nora sighs a dramatic, long-suffering sigh and gives me a very grownup look, so I stick my tongue out at her. Like a grownup would.

“You need to tell her,” she says.

“I know.”

“If she ever asks me, I’m not going to lie,” Nora goes on. This is a discussion we’ve had before. “And lying to Lucy by omission is getting very old.”

Ash and I have been regularly hooking up for close to six months, and somehow, an answer to our issues hasn’t presented itself. When we first started, about a year after they broke up, I assumed it would fizzle out or he’d start dating someone or I would, but it hasn’t fizzled and I have, for no reason, not been interested in dating.

I guess that feeling isn’t mutual, if Lucy saw him on a date with someone, which is something I will not be thinking about tonight. Not that it bothers me because obviously, this is a casual sex thing that’s only about hooking up and nothing else.

“We’re not even dating,” I tell Nora, as if that’s what we’re discussing here. “We hook up sometimes. It’s a casual sex thing. He’s not my boyfriend. There’s not, like, romance.”

“You spent the night at his place twice last week,” she points out.

“I was tired! Sex is hard work.”

That gets a skeptical look. The skeptical look isn’t exactly wrong, because while we did try out a new vibrator, we also hung out on his couch afterward and watched three episodes of Nailed It! while arguing about which reality competition TV show we thought we could win. Then, of course, it was pretty late, and I didn’t want to chance waking Nora up, so I slept over for purely practical reasons.

I tell Nora as much, but she doesn’t buy it.

I SWEAR I mean to ask Ash about the girl Lucy saw him with the next time we see each other. I know I should ask, but also, I’m not sure I want to know. It feels oddly outside the purview of our very-clearly-sex-and-only-sex relationship, and also, whatever Lucy says, I don’t think Ash is actually a cheater. He didn’t cheat on her, and I don’t think he’d cheat on Other Mystery Girl.

Also, when I get to his place, he’s so excited to show me the huge, new full-length mirror that he bought for his bedroom that there’s no time for boring questions because before I know it, my clothes are off and his face is between my thighs, his big hands holding me open, as I watch. It’s mostly the back of his head, but I can see all of myself, and it’s—yeah. It’s really hot, it turns out.

I come twice before he relents. There are probably bite marks on the insides of my thighs and I feel all floppy and boneless, but I manage to grab his cock through his pants when he finally makes his way to my face to kiss me.

“Good?” he asks, smug as anything. He knows it was good.

“Terrible,” I murmur. “Better try again.”

“You liked watching, huh,” he says, and his eyes are going half-mast and he’s grinding his dick against my hand, denim still separating us. “I think I might need a whole system of mirrors, because it turns out the fatal flaw in this one is that I can’t see you when I eat you out.”

“Dork,” I say, and squeeze his dick again. “Bring that up here.” I lick my lips to make sure he knows exactly what I’m telling him to do, and he groans, dropping his head into the crook of my neck.

“I have a better idea,” he says, and levers himself off me.

“A better idea than a blowjob?”

“It’s a really good idea,” he says, and gives one nipple a parting lick as he gets up.

The idea is that we fuck in a chair in front of the mirror. It’s not rocket science. I kiss him as he rolls a condom on, tugging at his shirt so he takes it off, but he holds the hem down.

“Don’t tell me you got modest,” I say, glancing over at the mirror where we’re reflected: me fully naked, red marks on my thighs where his fingers were.

Ash spins me around so I’m facing the mirror and he’s behind me.

“Nope,” he says, and kisses the side of my neck, slides a hand up my torso to play with one nipple. “This is just hot. Makes me feel like you’re my plaything or something. Like—”

He stops, kisses my neck again, teeth scraping along my skin. I arch my back and watch us in the mirror, choosing not to examine the bolt of arousal that shot through me at plaything.

“Every inch of you is so fucking glorious, and having you naked and pliable like this, knowing I get to touch you, get to fuck you, get to make you come, is—I feel like a fucking king.”

He pushes a hand between my legs, already slick with my wetness and his spit, and when he drags a finger over my clit I jolt, my head rolling back on his shoulder.

“Come on,” I whisper, because he’s not the only one who’s very into this.

The setup takes a minute—angles and lighting and whatnot—but then he’s seated on a chair and I’m straddling him, his hands holding tight to my hips, sliding down onto his cock and watching us in the mirror.

“Oh,” I say, a little surprised. “Fuck.”

“Look at you,” he whispers.

As if I have much choice. I’m right there in semi-pornographic detail, naked and watching myself take Ash’s cock all the way until I’m sitting on him, the zipper of his shorts biting into the backs of my thighs. We’re at an angle to the mirror so I can see him too, mostly, which means I can see the dark-eyed, lust-filled way he looks at me while he slides his hands up me like he’s trying to touch every inch.

“How,” he asks, strangled. “Have we never done this before?”

I give a breathy half-laugh and lean back a little. He shifts inside me, and we both gasp softly, his hands coming to my hips.

“So you like it,” I manage, and he leans in to bite the spot where my neck meets my shoulder, just a little too hard. I make a weird noise and tilt my head away in case he wants to do it again. He does, and his fingers dig into my hips, and we start moving together.

It’s a little awkward, at first: IKEA kitchen chairs were not crafted with seated reverse cowgirl in mind, so it takes a bit to get the angles right, but then we do and holy shit. It’s a slow, aching grind, Ash’s cock dragging over every single over-sensitive nerve ending until I can’t decide whether I’m going to come again or maybe just die.

He’s leaned back a little in the chair, watching, his fingers sunk into my hips, the bite of his blunt nails a sharp counterpoint to the slow, fuzzy build inside me. His arms flex with every slow, careful thrust, biceps straining at the shirt that he’s still wearing. The hem’s ridden up a little on his belly and he’s got a blissed-out, glazed look on his face as he keeps murmuring things I can only half-hear over my own choked-off moans and the way this chair is creaking.

“Can you come again?” he asks, and I nod. In the mirror I’m bright pink, flushed down to my nipples, dazed and unfocused. Somewhere in the back of mind I think that this looks nothing at all like porn; if I look like anything, I look like a Renaissance painting of a saint who’s seen the face of God.

Then Ash moves his right hand to my clit, and I stop thinking about art history. I stop thinking completely and manage to keep my eyes open enough to watch as I come in long, shuddering waves, head back, chest heaving. Ash fucks me through it softly but firmly in that way he has that’s gentle and hard all at once, murmuring God yes Bridge let me feel it. I’m still riding it out when he grabs me even harder and groans, every muscle in his body flexing at once as his cock pulses.

Afterward, I get up and flop on his bed and he flops next to me, both of us facedown and still breathing hard, staring at each other from six inches away.

“Different chair, I think,” he finally says, and all I can do is nod.

“That one’s gonna break by next week,” I say, and Ash grins.

“Next week, huh?”

“If you play your cards right.”

He rolls onto his side and flops an arm over his forehead, and I rub my knuckles along his side. It’s still summer in the South and way too hot for actual cuddling, but this is a tolerable substitute.

“I should deal with—” he gestures at the condom on his dick, still sticking out of the fly of his shorts.

“Go,” I tell him, with a slight push, but he hesitates. Looks over at me, lashes shading over his pretty blue eyes, one light brown curl stuck to his forehead with sweat.

“What are you doing Friday?” he asks, and I blink. We’ve never exactly made plans before. Our… thing… is more of a hey, what are you doing, want to come over kind of thing.

“I think I’m going to the Summer Nights thing they do downtown with Nora and Lucy,” I answer, too surprised to say something better like I don’t know do you have any ideas?

But all he says is, “Oh, those are really fun. Maybe I’ll see you there,” and I want to know what he was about to ask, but then I chicken out, because so far, I’ve managed to keep this very fun part of my life blessedly separate from the rest, and I know that when the two meet, there are going to be consequences of one kind or another. If they even ever do meet, because maybe Ash is going to keep this up until he actually starts dating someone, like the girl he was apparently having dinner with and oh, God, I should have asked about that before he made me come three times.

Hell, I should ask now, probably. Just to know.

I don’t.

“Go,” I say, poking him gently, again. “Then we have to watch another episode of Breaking Bad because otherwise I’m gonna start watching it by myself and you’d be mad.”

That gets another slanted look and a slight smile on his mouth.

“You wouldn’t cheat on me like that,” he says, and for a second, my stomach clenches, because what a phrase to use.

“You don’t know what I would and wouldn’t do,” I tell him.

“I think I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

“Go or I’ll look it up on Wikipedia and read you spoilers.”

“Okay, okay,” he says, and sits up, grinning. When he stands from the bed, he pulls his shirt off and lets his shorts fall to the floor, which is always a nice view. “That would be cruel and unusual, Bridget.”

When he’s gone, I scrub my hands over my face because, seriously, what the hell am I doing? I’m lying to my best friend and avoiding very pertinent questions and, overall, refusing to get my head out of the sand about this whole situation, but also this whole situation is mind-blowing sex and then Breaking Bad and then, yeah, probably sleeping over and waking up with Ash’s arm possessively thrown across me, and I can’t stand to fuck that up quite yet.

CHAPTER FOUR

“DOES THE ART THING HAVE SNACKS?” I ask.

“Uh, maybe,” Lucy says. “I don’t know.”

“An art thing should have snacks,” I say, because: an art thing should have snacks.

“It’s also an animal thing so maybe not,” Nora adds. “You can adopt a pet and also look at art?”

“If there’s animals there’s probably no snacks,” I point out, since the two generally don’t mix well. Or they mix too well and it’s a situation best avoided.

“I’m not sure there’s animals,” Nora says, frowning at her phone. There is, technically, an app for Sprucevale Summer Nights since our small, charming town has finally entered the 2010s only about a decade too late, but the app isn’t quite as useful as, say, tin-can telephones might be.

“Then there might be snacks,” I say, getting back to the point.

“It’s a fundraiser, right?” says Lucy. “So the snacks probably aren’t free.”

It’s Friday night, and I’m hungry thanks to a miscommunication: I thought we were getting dinner here, Nora and Lucy both thought we were eating separately beforehand, so now I need, at least, a snack. A drink would also be cool, but the snack is my real focus at the moment.

“I can pay for a snack,” I say. “Though, really, maybe I’ll walk down to where the food trucks are while you guys go look at the art thing because the snacks there are probably just cookies or—”

“Shit,” Lucy says, and grabs my arm like she’s on the run from the law and she’s spotted badges. I turn my head from the direction of the food trucks and, of course, there’s Ash, fifteen feet away, eating ice cream and talking to a pretty, dark haired woman. The woman is laughing and also eating chocolate ice cream, and even though she’s got on a white shirt she hasn’t spilled any on herself.

I don’t own any white clothing. There’s no point. Jealousy and a weird giddiness rumble in the pit of my stomach, temporarily displacing the hunger, and I definitely stare at them a little too long.

“Ignore him,” I say, doing the exact opposite. “You have a truce, right?”

“That’s the girl he was having dinner with,” she says, glaring daggers. I consider putting my hand in front of her eyes make her stop, but that seems… rude.

“Okay, then ignore them,” I correct.

“I should warn her.”

“You absolutely should not,” says Nora, who shoots me a look for good measure. My heartbeat jumps and skips, my brain all over the place.

“Let’s go to the art thing and hope for snacks,” I say. “You can forget they’re here, no one’s night will be ruined—”

Lucy stands up a little straighter. Nora sighs. She does that a lot, probably because it’s hard to be the adult in the room all the time.

“They’re coming over here, aren’t they?” I ask no one in particular. Nora serves up another look.

They are. Lucy stands up straight and glares haughty daggers. Nora takes a long swig from her iced coffee. I wave like a dork and try really hard not to think about the last time I wore these shorts around Ash.

“Hey,” he says, and it’s directed very specifically to me.

“Hey,” I say. “How’s it going?”

I am extremely smooth.

“Good,” he says. “You know, I’ve never managed to come to one of these Summer Nights things before but they’re a total blast. This is Jenna, by the way.”

We all shake hands: Jenna is lovely, Nora says very normal things, and Lucy gets out a very curt hi.

When it’s my turn to shake Jenna’s hand, she says: “Oh, Bridget! Ash told me about you.”

I freeze. If a bolt of lightning struck me down right now, I would be cool with it.

“You guys went to Walter’s?” Nora asks, nodding at the ice cream they’re both holding.

“Yeah, it’s amazing!” says Jenna. “They guy behind the counter was telling me that they technically can’t enter any ice cream contests because the fat content is too high. Which is probably why it’s so good.”

“You should’ve tried it before they got the new machines,” Ash says. “The new ones are…”

He holds his hand flat in front of himself and wobbles it side-to-side, and I roll my eyes.

“It tastes exactly the same,” I tell him. We’ve had this argument before, though the last time we had it, neither of us was wearing pants. “You just like saying that old things are better.”

“It does not,” he says, and holds up his ice cream dish like it’s proof. “The new machines don’t mix it as thoroughly, and the texture’s not quite as smooth.”

“The texture’s not smooth because it’s August in the south and it’s half-melted,” I say.

“I know how to account for melt,” he says. “That’s not the issue, the issue is the mix.”

“The issue is that everyone here hates change and thinks anything old is automatically good,” I shoot back, and now Ash is grinning like he’s about to start laughing, and fuck, so am I. “You didn’t notice one single difference until the paper ran the exposé about Walter’s getting new soft-serve machines.”

Yes, it’s true: our local paper ran an exposé about ice cream machines. It’s often a slow news day in Sprucevale.

“Oh, I knew something was wrong,” he counters. “I just didn’t say anything.”

“Liar,” I tease, and now we’re both laughing, and suddenly I realize that everyone else is watching us: Jenna and Nora look entertained, and Lucy looks… suspicious. I take that moment to realize that I’m flirting with the guy I’m banging in front of his ex-girlfriend and maybe also his date—though the vibes are not really date—and this is not my favorite situation.

“Anyway,” I say, steamrolling right over myself. “I think we’re gonna go look at the animals and art and shit. Maybe we’ll run into you again!”

“Nice meeting you!” Jenna says, waving with her spoon. It doesn’t splash any chocolate on her shirt, so maybe she has magic powers.

“Bye!” I shout, already moving away and very studiously ignoring the way my two best friends are looking at me.

“WE COULD SET UP A TORTOISE ENCLOSURE,” Nora’s saying.

“We really couldn’t,” I tell her, taking another bite of brownie.

“Sure we could. We don’t need our whole kitchen.”

“Nora,” I say. “Our kitchen is, like, ten feet by three feet. There’s no part of the kitchen not in heavy use.”

“I know,” she says, mournful. “But look at her.”

The three of us gaze at a beautiful, black-and-white portrait of Heloise, a desert tortoise who currently resides at the Burley County Animal Shelter. According to her info sheet, she was found munching on some azaleas outside the shelter’s front door, where presumably someone left her on the doorstep and she wandered a bit. No one has any idea how a desert tortoise got to Virginia, who gave her up, or how old she is.

“If we had a backyard,” I tell Nora, right as my phone buzzes in my pocket. I shove the rest of the brownie in my mouth and reach for it. “Sorry, one sec.”

I have a suspicion, so I take a step back before I read my text.

Ash: can we talk?

My heart thumps a little harder, and not in a good way. Is there a worse sentence in the English language than can we talk?

Me: I can come over tomorrow?

Ash: What about tonight?

Me: um, sure

Ash: by the food trucks in ten?

Me: sounds good

It doesn’t actually sound good. It sounds nerve wracking, and my palms are sweaty, because I can think of a lot of things that Ash might say and none of them are going to be hey, sit on my face.

I accept my fate and go back to the portrait of Heloise.

“She’s only fourteen pounds,” Nora is saying. “Look, this says she loves strawberries.”

“Are you prepared to provide for a reptile in your will?” Lucy asks. “They don’t even know how old she is.”

“Heloise would be a wonderful inheritance,” Nora says, and I glance at the time on my phone.

WHEN I GET to the food trucks eleven minutes later, Jenna’s nowhere to be seen. It’s just Ash, leaning against the brick wall of an antique store, looking at his phone and waiting. When he sees me, he slides the phone into his pocket.

“Thanks,” he says.

I nod, sort of glancing around.

“Is Jenna…?”

“She’s looking at knickknacks in Ye Olde Country Store,” he says.

“Right,” I say. “So, you and her are…”

“Friends from college,” he says, and rubs his hands over his face. “But I hadn’t seen her in a while, so the other night we had a few drinks too many, and—”

I swallow hard and don’t breathe.

“—I kinda told her about you, except I didn’t tell her the part where it’s big secret and now I think Lucy knows something is up because Jenna had to go and embarrass me,” he finishes. I exhale.

He looks up.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, fine,” I say. “I wasn’t sure what your deal was with her and thought maybe you were about to tell me that you got drunk and rekindled your romance or something and were breaking the news to me now.”

Ash is laughing before I finish that sentence, so I reach out and smack him in the shoulder.

“Not funny,” I tell him, even though I’m smiling too.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “We’ve been friends, like, forever. That didn’t even occur to me.”

I grumble, and then there’s silence for a little while.

“I think she did kinda let the cat out of the bag, though,” Ash says, and he runs a hand through his hair, like he’s nervous. “But maybe that’s good. What if we just told Lucy and dealt with that and, I don’t know, went on dates?”

My brain gets stuck between tell Lucy and go on dates with Ash.

“I think we might be dating,” he says, this cute little smile on his face, and I can’t help but laugh. “What? There are TV shows I’m not allowed to watch without you, you’ve got a toothbrush at my place, and the se—”

He stops himself as his eyes flick to a family with two small kids standing about five feet away, then clears his throat.

“The other stuff is also good,” he finishes.

I just nod, my face basically on fire.

“I’d like going on dates,” he says. “I like you.”

I am, somehow, blushing harder.

“I’d like that too,” I say, and then we look at each other for a long moment, and I feel like something moderately romantic is supposed to happen now—rose petals everywhere? Orchestral music?—but it’s only the two of us and the scent of tacos, wafting gently on the breeze. “I’ll tell her.”

He nods and can’t keep the smile off his face.

“You want help?”

“Not from you,” I say, honestly. Someone waves down the street: Jenna. I wave back because I’m that kind of dork.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’d actually help,” he says. “I tried apologizing to her a bunch of times, but I guess I never did it right.”

“It’s not really you, I think,” I tell him as Jenna walks up. “It’s—complicated.”

“Hey,” she says. “I got my mom the tackiest birdfeeder I’ve seen in my whole life. Also, uh, sorry I opened my big mouth. Ash didn’t bother to tell me the whole situation.”

“Why is everything my fault?” he says.

“You really could’ve included that one detail after you managed to remember so many others,” she says, and turns to me again. “You know he thinks you’re his—”

“Okay! Okay, thank you, Jenna, we gotta go… assemble your birdfeeder or whatever,” Ash says, shoving her in the shoulder before turning to me. “This week?”

“I’ll text you,” I say, and despite my impending doom, I feel light as a cloud for a minute.

CHAPTER FIVE

I TAKE Lucy out for drinks the next night and tell her that I’ve been sleeping with Ash for six months.

She doesn’t say a word, just storms out of the brewery and doesn’t answer my texts.

LUCY SPENDS three days not answering my texts or calls. I consider going over to her house to try to talk it out in person, but she lives with her well-meaning-but-nosy parents, and neither of us wants to explain this to them.

It lasts a week. Nora refuses to run interference between the two of us, and I can’t blame her.

Saturday night, I finally come up with a plan.

I’M NOT SURVEILLING Lucy’s house, because that would be weird and I’m a friend who fucked up pretty bad, not a private detective. I’m just… quietly waiting nearby until her parents leave for church on Sunday morning.

As I walk to the front door of her parents’ house, my hands are shaking a little. I really wish I’d had breakfast, but everything in my kitchen was so unappealing I didn’t bother.

I’ve got the chocolate croissant she likes from the bakery in one hand and a Venus flytrap in the other. Flowers would have made her parents suspicious, and besides, she’s probably more in the mood for a murder plant than something pretty. Obviously, I’m here to apologize, but half the reason I’m nervous is I’m not sure I’m willing to apologize enough.

I’m definitely sorry that I wasn’t honest with Lucy, and I’m sorry that her heart got broken, and I’m sorry the last year has been rough for her, and I’m really, really sorry that I probably made it worse by lying to her about sleeping with her ex.

But I’m not actually sorry for sleeping with her ex, which is something I’ve now been doing for two months longer than they dated.

When Lucy answers the door, she’s in an enormous t-shirt and pajama shorts, and she glares for at least ten seconds without saying anything.

“Okay. Fine,” she says at last, then turns and walks into the house, so I follow her.

“I brought a peace offering,” I say as she heads into the kitchen, grabbing two mugs from the cabinet. If she’s grabbing two, she can’t be that mad at me anymore.

“Is that—” she says, then tilts her head to read the label on the bag. “Oh, goddammit.”

She waves a hand in the air.

“They’re at church, by the way. Where they’ve been trying to get me to go with them so I can meet a nice husband.”

Mugs forgotten, she takes the bag, pulls out the croissant, and tears into it.

“There’s probably nice men at church,” I point out, taking over pouring the coffee.

“Yeah, but I’ve met them all and I don’t want to marry any of them,” she says.

She chews the croissant, and I fix her coffee the way she likes it before handing it over. For a long moment, we stand there, leaning on opposite counters, and it feels sort of normal, like we’re sixteen again and had a sleepover.

“I’m sorry for going behind your back with Ash,” I say, after it’s been long enough. “I should have at least told you.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, but she doesn’t seem angry. Or, not that angry, at least. “I wish you had. I feel like such an idiot for being the only one who didn’t know.”

“We didn’t tell anyone,” I say. “Nora found out by accident.”

That gets a withering look, so I drop that line of apology.

“She’s on your side, by the way,” Lucy finally mutters.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Okay, not entirely,” Lucy admits. “But. You know.”

I nod and sip my coffee, because I do know.

“I’m sorry too,” Lucy finally blurts out. “It’s not up to me who you date, or who you’re sleeping with, and it’s not like he was the love of my life or some shit, it’s just—that breakup really fucked me up, and I wasn’t expecting it to, and even though it’s been like a year and a half I’m still sort of mad at him about it. Even if that doesn’t really make sense.”

“It was a really shitty time,” I say, because it was.

“He dumped me like three weeks after Nana died, and it was right when I was finding out that my landlord hadn’t gotten my rent check in like four months, and my old job was talking about laying people off, and—I dunno, it was easier to be mad at some stupid boy then all the complicated things in my life,” she says.

I watch her for a moment, tapping one finger against my mug.

“Lucy,” I say, slowly. “Have you… been to therapy?”

She sticks her tongue out and flips me off.

“Not yet,” she admits into the coffee mug. “I made an appointment.”

“That’s great!”

She makes a noise.

“Seriously. I’m proud of you,” I say. “That part’s hard.”

“You slept with my ex, you don’t get to be proud of me,” she says, but I can tell the bitchiness is for show, so I cross the kitchen and give her a big, obnoxious hug. We stay like that for a long time. I think she might be crying a little bit, so I don’t let go because I know she doesn’t want me to see her.

“I just,” she says, a few minutes later. “Wanted someone. I wanted it to be my turn.”

I sigh into her hair, smooshing my face against her.

“It will be,” I tell her. “Promise.”

CHAPTER SIX

One Year Later

“WHAT IF HE’S GOT TENTACLES?” Nora asks, leaning over the table toward Ash and me.

“Kinky,” Ash says, and I kick him gently in the ankle.

“I’m more worried that he’s, like, on a frisbee golf team or something,” she says, ignoring Ash’s comment.

“That’s not that bad,” I say, and Nora makes a face. I don’t have time to find out what she has against frisbee golf, because that’s when I spot Lucy and her date walking toward us.

And, honestly? He’s a fox. I’m very happy with Ash, my actual boyfriend with whom I go on real dates and who took me on his family vacation this year, but I can appreciate a hot man when I see one.

The three of us all stand when they get to our table, and Lucy’s slightly flushed, nervous and excited all at once.

“Hi, guys,” she says. “This is Ben.”

Ben is looking at Lucy like she hung the moon, and I can’t help but grin.

“Hi,” I say first, and hold out my hand. “I’m so excited to finally meet you!”

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32A

S. CINDERS

ALLY

2:32 AM

AN INFANT’S cry woke me from sleep at precisely 2:32 that morning. I knew the exact time because my head had just hit the pillow thirty-two minutes earlier. Being an emergency room nurse, I was used to working long hours. However, coming off my third double, I was bone tired.

I listened to the baby’s cries for a hot minute, with the pillow placed firmly over my head. Before you judge, the baby isn’t mine, nor does it live with me. However, the walls of my downtown duplex are paper thin and someone new had moved into 32A.

I’d noticed the lights on a few days earlier in the week. The cries started after my last double shift. Listen, I’m not some jerk who hates babies. The truth was, when I was seventeen, my then boyfriend dumped me the moment he found out I was pregnant. My single mom didn’t have the means to care for me and a newborn.

To make matters worse, I had just been diagnosed with Lupus and had begun taking the medication to bring my autoimmune disease under control. I had thought long and hard about my options. Could I live with having an abortion knowing that my child would likely suffer with birth defects from the Lupus medication? Could I give the baby up to a family that could better care for them?

I didn’t have to make a choice. Unbeknownst to me, the meds that I had been taking for Lupus had a few other applications. One being a cancer fighting chemo drug, the other being an abortion medication. My rheumatologist informed me that my chances of carrying the child were slim. True to her word, I started bleeding and later miscarried at nine weeks.

It was devastating to say the least. When you hear about women’s rights, they don’t often talk about cases like mine. I felt strongly about helping other women who might find themselves in similar situations. It’s a large part of why I became a nurse.

Listening to this baby cry, I wondered about the mother. Was she young like I would have been? Did she have the means to take care of her infant? My neighborhood wasn’t exactly in the highest income bracket.

Guilt settled in my gut. How awkward would it be if I just rang their doorbell to see if everything was alright? Would that mother appreciate a helping hand or call the cops? Groaning, I pulled the pillow off my head and walked over to the mirror above my dresser.

There I was, Ally McFarland. Large green eyes, thanks to my Irish mother. They were incased by smudged mascara and dark circles, and were bloodshot to boot. My dark curly hair was courtesy of my Mexican father who I never really knew.

He wasn’t a deadbeat dad, if that’s what your wondering. My dad was killed in active duty. He’s a war hero. I like to think that he would be proud of the woman I’ve become—minus the bags under my eyes.

2:49 AM

WHO BARGES in on their new neighbor at three in the morning? I nearly dove back into bed to hide under the covers. But another wail had me thinking twice. Could I go over there in my current condition?

My cherry-themed pajama bottoms were inside out, proudly showing any and all my plus size tag. The matching tank was hardly better, stretching over my full breasts which spilled out a bit on the sides. I should change. Instead I took the edge of my tank top and rubbed some of the mascara off from under my eyes.

I wasn’t runway ready, but I looked a helluva lot less like a racoon.

But the cries were getting urgent and damn it, I was really freaking tired. Not bothering with shoes, I stumbled down my stairs and out the front door. It was four steps between 32B where I lived and 32A where all the noise was coming from.

I gently knocked on the door and then grimaced at my own stupidity. Nobody was going to hear anything with that racket going on. Then I pounded on the door, not letting up until I heard the familiar sounds of the latches being turned.

Plastering a smile on my face, I prepared to meet the frazzled momma who clearly was in over her head. Only, the shirtless sex god who opened the door clearly wasn’t a woman.

“Look, I’m sorry about the noise,” he said gruffly, not even looking at me. “I’ve fed and changed her. I don’t know why she’s so mad.”

“Can I see her?” I asked, pushing the door open a bit and stepping into the softly lit room.

He glanced over at me as if realizing for the first time that he’d let a stranger into his home at three in the morning. Unconsciously, he protected the baby from me, turning so that I couldn’t see her face.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

“My name is Ally McFarland. I live next door in 32 B.”

Understanding lit his eyes and then he grimaced. “I’m really sorry about the noise. I’m James Harthorne and this is my daughter.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I replied, trying not to notice how his abs rippled when he turned to rock the crying baby. “I’m an emergency room nurse at St. Joan East. Do you mind if I give her a look? I’m not a baby expert, but I did spend time on the children’s ward.”

He paused, indecision written on his face. I also noted that the bags under his eyes were just as large as mine. He nodded, somehow coming to a decision. I liked the masculine look of him. Square jaw with just the right amount of stubble, dark eyes that seemed to take in my every move. And a killer body that I was doing my damnedest to ignore.

“Her name is Evelyn,” he said quietly, pulling her around so that I could see the little bundle.

“Hi there, Evie,” I spoke to the infant in soft tones as I took her from his arms. She was wrapped up tight in a blanket, and I could see her hair was damp with sweat. “Let’s unwrap you a bit.”

“They said babies like to be swaddled,” James added hesitantly.

“They do,” I replied with a smile. “But it’s pretty warm in here. Babies’ temperatures aren’t that different than our own. You see the red spots here on her neck and belly?”

“Oh my god! What does she have? Do we need to take her to the hospital?”

I smiled at the gorgeous man before returning to Evie and stripping her down to her diaper. Her cries weren’t as loud as they had once been.

“How old is she?” I asked.

He ran a hand through his hair. “Three months? I don’t really know. I didn’t know about Evie until a week ago when an old hook-up friend showed up out of the blue, told me I was a father, and asked if I would take her. My sister has been giving me advice over the phone, but it’s not the same as having her here. Shit, I never thought I’d be a father.”

I tried not to bristle. He hadn’t said he abandoned the old girlfriend. But I couldn’t help but feel for the girl. I knew what it was like to be pregnant and scared out of your mind. It had to be just coincidence that his story was similar to what had happened to me. “You didn’t know she was pregnant?”

He frowned. “Of course not. If I had known I would have been there for her. I feel cheated out of the first few months of Evie’s life. I asked Mandy why she didn’t tell me sooner.”

Evie’s eyes began to slowly close. Her whimpers were far less frequent. She had cuddled up to me instantly, her hand slipping inside my tank top to rest on my bare breast. When I looked up from Evie, I saw James’s intense stare. He too saw where Evie had settled.

“And?” I inquired.

“Huh?” James said, shaking his head as if to clear it. “Oh, Mandy had moved to Florida to be near her grandmother. Since we had broken up, she thought I wouldn’t want to be a part of her or the child’s life. She was wrong—dead wrong. But that hardly matters now.”

“Why do you say that?” I asked, rocking Evie back and forth.

“Mandy showed up a week ago and left her with me. Said she wasn’t cut out to be a mother, and if I didn’t want Evie, I could leave her at the local hospital. Can you even imagine doing something like that?”

I thought of the seventeen year old version of me. I had been scared shitless and hardly knew what to do. Carefully I said, “Not every person is fit to parent a child. I am glad that Mandy got in touch with you. There are plenty of stories that don’t end as well as yours.”

He ran a hand though his tussled, beach-blond curls. Damn, the man was distracting. I tried to look anywhere but his six pack abs or the happy trail of light brown hair. He was wearing Snoopy pajama pants that rode low on his hips.

“Snoopy?” I inquired with a teasing smile.

“Cherries?” he countered, and we both laughed.

Evie stirred a little in my arms, but she quickly settled back to sleep.

“I don’t know how you did that,” James whispered reverently. “But I am so thankful you did.”

I nodded. “Anytime, seriously, I am just next door. Besides, I think she just was overheated and missed her mother.”

He cocked his head to the side. “What makes you say that?”

I glanced down to the indecent amount of boob that was now showing because of her little arm.

James cleared his throat. “Erm, yeah, well, I can’t say I blame her on that one. It looks like a good spot to be.”

Heat climbed up from neck. Was he flirting with me? All size sixteen, double D’s, and hips for days… that me?

Clearly was I was so exhausted that I was hallucinating. Because Mr. Sexy Pants was out of my league. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t dislike my curves. I just sometimes wish that my jiggle wasn’t quite so prominent.

“Let’s try to lay her down,” I suggested.

James nodded and led the way to the spare bedroom. Despite the unpacked boxes, the room was starting to come to life. I could tell that everything was new. The moment I leaned over to set her down, Evie’s eyes popped open and she began to wail again.

“God, why is she still crying?” James asked, looking like he was ready to pull his hair out.

“I think she’s just had a lot of changes recently. I can hold her for a bit longer.”

The instant I picked Evie up, her hand slipped back into my tank and she went back to sleep. I slowly rocked her back and forth, uncaring that my thighs were on display, or that my hair was a knotted mess.

“What is that song?” James asked quietly.

I hadn’t even realized I was humming anything.

“It’s a song my mother used to sing to me,” I said carefully.

“What are the words?”

I blew out a breath and sang him part of it.

“Will we ever fly, again?

Reach into the sky, and fly up high again?

Those dreams are lost and broken now,

and yet I feel you with me here somehow.

“Oooh.

“I know that there will come a day,

When the sadness will melt away.

And that day I’ll take your hand.

For forever we will stand.

“And we will fly, again.

Up into the sky, and fly up high again.

When all was lost, I couldn’t see the way.

And now I know I’ll hold you close one day.”

“Wow.” His eyes were wide with wonder. “You have an incredible voice.”

Again my cheeks heated. “Thank you, I don’t often sing outside of my shower.”

“You should,” he said intently. “That song, where is it from?”

“My mother was a song writer. She wrote it for me when I was seventeen and had just suffered a miscarriage.”

“Dear God! I am so sorry.”

I offered a sad smile. “There’s a lot to the story. But I was devastated. My mom wrote the song to help me heal. She told me what once was mine would someday be restored to me. I don’t know if I believe in God, or heaven. But I like to think that someday I will understand.”

“You are one incredible woman,” he replied, gesturing for me to take a seat in his recliner. “Please, sit down. I feel terrible for keeping you up all night.”

I glanced at the clock.

4:11 AM

“MAYBE I WILL SIT for a little while,” I murmured as I sank into the soft leather with Evie still sleeping on my chest. I would rock her for a bit longer until she was good and asleep. Then I felt it would be safe the lay her down and go back home.

I was so tired I could barely appreciate James lying himself out on the couch beside the armchair. I said barely… Don’t get me wrong, there was plenty of appreciation going on.

I suppose that’s what inspired the sexy dream I fell into. One where Mr. Sexy Pants had lost his Snoopy pajamas and my cherry jammies were nowhere to be found. He was just about to rock my world with his impressive package when a baby’s cry pulled me out of the dream.

Cherry jammies were back on, and it appeared that Evie’s diaper had leaked, because the front of my tank top was soaked. I looked over at James to see his hand had slid down the front of his snoopy jammies.

I know all men talk about morning wood. But James was sporting a damn flagpole in there.

“James,” I called out to him.

“Huh?” he snapped awake, jerking his hand out of his pants. “What?”

“We fell asleep,” I stated the obvious. “Look, Evie’s diaper leaked and I am covered in urine. Can you come take her?”

He was adorably rumpled, with a crease on his cheek and his tented pajama pants.

“Shit, I am sorry. Here, let me get her.”

He walked over to the chair and lifted Evie off of me. But not before his strong hands brushed my exposed skin. His eyes were glued to my tank top. Looking down I saw that it left little to the imagination being wet and plastered to my tits. You could see every detail of my hard nipples.

He didn’t move and neither did I.

James blew out an unsteady breath. “Look, I know it’s likely bad form to hit on the woman that literally saved us last night.”

“But…?” I encouraged.

“But there is something about you, Ally McFarland. I don’t feel like I just want to get to know you. I feel like I’ve been waiting a long damn time to meet you.”

I started to smile. “Even though I look like shit and smell like urine?”

His brow creased. “You are fucking gorgeous. If you are telling me it gets better than this, I am a goner for sure.”

I couldn’t help the surprised laughter that burst from me as I got to my feet.

“Well, Prince Charming and Princess Screams-a-Lot. I would be happy to get to you both of you a little better. But let’s do that after we shower.”

James’s brows rose and I realized what I had said.

“Alone,” I clarified.

His expression fell and I laughed again.

“But there is always tomorrow,” I conceded. “Let’s just take this one step at a time.”

For more of James and Ally’s story, sign up for S. Cinders newsletter. There you will be the first to know when this book in the Curvy Girl’s Guide to Shifters is published!

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SADDLE UP COWBOY

A BONUS EPILOGUE

SADE RENA

PARKER

LOVE IS DOING the things that scare you the most just to see a smile on your person’s face. It’s a lesson I learned from momma and pops early on, and that’s how I feel about my woman.

If you had asked me a year ago if I’d be willing to get down on one knee, ready to commit myself to another for the rest of my life, I probably would have looked at you funny. But don’t get me wrong, I’ve always believed in love and marriage. My parents showed my brother Denton and me what true love looks like—even when it’s ugly sometimes. And as a boy, I swore up and down I was going to have that someday.

But then the only girl I loved went and broke my heart. I gave up for a while there until I laid eyes on Renee, and she’s had me locked in a trance from that moment on. Eight years my senior, she’s taught me a lot about love—a lot about myself.

What I had with Madison was minuscule compared to what I’ve built with Renee, and now, I want to make this thing last forever. She writes books about gestures like this, and it would be my honor to make real life just as special as the words she creates. So I clear my thoughts, suck in a breath and pull open the top drawer of my dresser.

The black velvet box that’s been tucked behind a slew of socks stares back at me, its fabric soft in my grasp when I pick it up. It’s not until my lungs grow tight that I realize I’ve managed to stop breathing altogether.

I dig my cell phone from my pocket and dial Leah’s number with numb fingers. When she doesn’t answer, I try the line to her Cafe, and she answers on the first ring.

“Leah’s Edibles, how can I help you?”

Rushing over to my closet, I quickly snatch up the carry-on luggage I’ve never used and set it on the mattress. “I need your help,” I say without greeting her as I race back and forth between the closet and my suitcase.

I toss in one item after the other, not even bothering to make sure anything matches. Finally, there are voices in the background, and I realize that Leah is helping a customer. As she finishes up, I drop the phone on the mattress and rush from the room over to the bathroom for my toiletries. When I breach the bedroom doorway, Leah’s voice comes through the speaker.

“Okay. My customer is gone. What are you talking about, Parker?” Leah quizzes. It never ceases to amaze me how she can always tell who’s calling just from a few simple words.

“I want to surprise Renee at her signin’, and I need your help to make everythin’ perfect.”

I can hear the smile forming before she responds. Leah was the first to figure out that I’d been waiting for the perfect time to make Renee mine forever. Despite how hard I tried to convince her otherwise, she knew the truth. Not to mention Chance threatened to end our life-long friendship had I not cleared up the whole ‘him proposing to Charlie’ fiasco.

“Don’t fucking kid me right now, Parker,” Leah quips, her voice a tad bit higher than before.

She’s excited and has begged me to allow her to be part of this for weeks. I love the way she loves my girl, always eager to do anything to support Renee’s happiness. It was Leah who encouraged Renee to give me a true shot. It was Leah’s words that helped Renee get over our eight-year age difference. And it was Leah who helped me see how stupid I was when it came to Madison.

“I’m not, kiddin’… I’m ready.”

Leah squeals and I swear she’s jumping up and down in her shop on the other end of the line. “Okay, okay,” she says after her brief moment of cheering. “Tell me what you need.”

Not that I doubted Leah would help me with this, but I release a heavy sigh. Tucking the phone between my ear and shoulder, I quickly zip my luggage, snatch it up, then grab my wallet from the dresser on my way out the door.

RENEE

“WHAT?” I hunch behind my table, answering Leah’s third call in a row.

“Damn.” She sucks her teeth. “That’s how you treat your best friend of over twenty years?” she teases.

Shaking my head, I try not to laugh at the playfulness in her tone. “Absolutely. Why are you calling so many times? I told you the signing has started.”

“Oh, shit! My bad. I just wanted to see how you’re doing, that’s all. Anything big happen today?”

“If you mean this massive multi-author signing that you are rudely interrupting, then yes, ma’am,” I joke.

“Right. Right. Fans and shit.”

I laugh. “Have you been drinking?” I check the time on my watch, and it’s only three in the afternoon in Coldbank.

“No,” Leah quips. “What do you have going on after the signing?”

I peek up from behind my booth to see if readers have started to line up. It’s only noon here in California, but the signing doors will be open any minute now. When I see the coast is clear, I return my attention to the call.

“A few of us may get together for dinner and drinks, but I haven’t decided yet. I’m pretty beat from yesterday’s signing.”

“Has it been fun?”

“You know, if you wanted to know all about the signing, you should have just come with me.”

“You know I couldn’t close the shop.”

“So you say. Now, do you want to tell me what in the hell you’re stalling for?”

“What?” Leah screeches. “I can’t call my sister?”

I’m quiet for a beat, contemplating how to answer. Since selling the rights to My Virgin Cowboy, my publisher has sent me to numerous book events and not once has Leah called me this many times. Something’s up, and I can’t quite put my finger on it.

“No. You’re up to something. What do you need me to keep from Denton?”

Leah’s laughter blares through the receiver, and I can’t help but smile at her response. I know my friend; she sucks at keeping secrets and will give them away nearly every time.

“Excuse me. I do not need you to hide anything from my husband. I just wanted to call you, that’s all. You’ve been on and off the road at these signings a lot lately.”

“And you couldn’t just text to say how much you’ve missed me?”

“I could have, but what’s the fun in that? Have you spoken to Parker?”

“Not yet. I called him during breakfast but didn’t get him. I know he and Chance just signed that big contract with Bradford’s community center. So I figured he’s busy working.”

“Yeah, Denton said they’ve been pulling a lot of late nights, so he’s been picking up the slack on the ranch.”

And again, I can’t help but feel as if she’s deflecting. But before I can call her on it, the ballroom doors open, and a sea of readers come rushing in. Deciding to table this conversation, for now, I sit up straight and whisper into the phone.

“It’s starting. I’ll call you back.”

“Wait,” Leah shouts. “Have your assistant text me the name of your hotel and room number.”

With no time left to question why she suddenly needs that information, I simply say, “Fine. Bye!”

By the time I sit the device face down on the white tablecloth, a line forms in front of me. I pull my shoulders back, allow a smile to grace my face, and immediately make eye contact with the red-headed beauty at the front.

“Aren’t you just the cutest? I love the red hair,” I say through a grin.

The girl’s smile widens, and a blush creeps across her skin. “Thank you so much! You don’t know how excited I am to meet you.”

“Aww. You’re too sweet.”

She hands me a stack of books, her excitement never wavering. This is what I love, and I’m just as ecstatic as she is to be able to do this every day.

“Who am I making this out to?” I ask as I grab my marker and uncap it.

“Shelley. I’d love it if you can sign it as Carter,” she pleas sweetly.

I nod, not surprised by her request. At nearly every signing I’ve attended since the release, readers have asked that I personalize their books as if the main character, the virgin cowboy that stole their hearts, signed it. I did it once, and it caught on like wildfires.

“Sure thing.”

I scribble “Hey darlin’! - Carter” in each of her books and follow it up with my own signature before sending her on her way.

PARKER

I STEP into the convention center and take in the slew of people standing about. A sense of overwhelm hits me, and I take a breath before stepping further inside. In my twenty-six years, I have never stepped foot out of Texas, let alone been on a plane to anywhere.

But, here I am, a country boy drowning in a sea of city folk. The further I get into the room, the more people start to take notice, and I squirm to push away the unease washing over me. I rarely go anywhere without my Stetson, and right about now, I wish I’d left it behind in Coldbank.

Girls stare at me, pointing and whispering to their friends. “I wonder who he models for?” I hear one young woman ask another.

“Right? Save a horse, they say.”

I try not to pay attention and continue my search for Renee. Leah confirmed that she would be here until five this evening when the signing is set to wind down, so I know she’s here. Her assistant, Layla, made sure there was a ticket waiting for me and also promised to keep Renee occupied until I touched down.

Up ahead, towards the far right of the large expanse of space, is my woman. She’s all smiles, her pearly whites shining way across the room. There’s a line at her table, and she seems to be in her element—talking to fans and enjoying their shared love in her words. Just off to the side is a banner I hadn’t noticed immediately.

It isn’t until she stands and gestures for the reader to meet her in front of the poster—a picture of a bare-chested cowboy who, from the lack of skin tan, isn’t a cowboy at all. I chuckle at that, remembering our conversation about cover models and photo props. Better that guy than me. Though, Chance has made it clear that she’d better pick him next time.

Renee doesn’t notice me right away. Her focus is on posing for the camera. And I must say, she looks damn good doing it. You’d think it’s been forever since we’ve seen each other, and it sure as shit feels that way. But every night, we Facetime until someone falls asleep. Of course, with all the traveling and interaction she’s been doing these last few months, that someone is usually her.

I trek around the small line to the side where Renee and the banner are. Her assistant spots me first and creeps over while we both steal glances at Renee, who’s back at her table, signing a stack of books for the next person.

“Parker?” the assistant questions.

Offering her my hands, I say, “Yes, ma’am.”

The girl accepts my gesture and offers me a subtle smile. “Nice to meet you. We’re almost done after these last few people. She doesn’t know you’re here.”

I nod. “Good. I appreciate your help today.”

“No problem. She’s crazy about you.”

I blush at her words, putting my attention back on the woman of my dreams. The nerves I had only a second ago fade, and I know now more than anything that this is right for me—that she’s right for me.

I’ve grown so much with her love, and I want nothing more than to show her how much I appreciate her every day from here on out. They say the distance makes your heart grow fonder, and while I am not sure I believe that saying, I know that seeing Renee at this moment feels a lot like the very first time I laid eyes on her.

She’s just as beautiful today as she was a little over a year ago. And to think I didn’t want to go out that night. I’m so glad I did, and just maybe, I’ll cave and give in to Chance’s idiotic demand. Since he was the one who encouraged me to go with them to Bradford, I can thank him for finding the love of my life, and he’d like to be honored by naming my firstborn son after him.

Let’s see him convince Renee of that, but knowing that this is indeed the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, I’m inclined to oblige him.

I forget all about the people surrounding us as I inch toward the table, needing to be close to her—to touch, feel, and kiss her. Before I can stop myself, I step around the cowboy banner and close the distance between us.

Her back is to me, and her readers notice me before she does. It isn’t until I place one hand on her shoulder, grab her chin with the other, and force her to meet my gaze that she realizes what’s going on. Renee’s eyes grow wide, but she never gets the chance to speak.

I lean in, my lips barely touching hers, my eyes peering into hers, and my breathing growing out of control. There are gasps, ooos, and ahhhs from the crowd, but I ignore them too. Nothing else matters, only Renee and I and the burning desire to claim her.

“I’ve missed you so damn much, Darlin’,” I admit, then take her mouth with mine, and like always, she melts into me.

RENEE

WHATEVER BREATH I have is sucked out of me when Parker pins a kiss on me. Lost and fumbling to find my senses, I finally pull away, but he doesn’t release his hold on my chin.

“What are you doing here?” I ask in a near squeal, completely tuning out the readers still waiting for me to sign their books.

Physically, they’re there. I can see them from my peripheral, and hear their chants and expressions of approval, but none of that is registering. The only thing on my mind is the man before me.

“I needed to see you,” he says after a beat.

I can’t stop the grin from forming. Parker kneels in front of me, his palms falling to my thighs, where he rubs his strong hands up and down my leg. Cupping his face, I stare at him in shock.

“But I’ll be home in two days.”

“I couldn’t wait.”

“Aww,” the readers singsong in unison.

Finally, Parker and I glance in their direction. He grips the fabric of my dress, and I know it’s because he’s nervous. It was all fun and games for him to be an inspiration for the character, but he’s made it clear that he had no desire to be a part of this life. Aside from supporting me and praising my talents when necessary, he didn’t want to be in the spotlight.

So much for that.

“Is he–” one of the readers asks but stops mid-sentence.

I know what she’s asking. We all do. It’s pretty apparent with him kissing me in front of everyone while wearing his cowboy get-up: Stetson, fitted jeans and t-shirt, and boots. Who else would he be? He even matches the description of Carter. But I don’t answer her right away. Instead, I watch his expression, taking my cues from him.

To my surprise, Parker smiles and grips my thigh, squeezing and using me as a symbolic shield between him and the women on the other side of the table. Then, he leans in further, slipping his free hand around my waist.

“How y’all doin’ this evenin’?”

“Fine,” they say at once.

I expect him to continue, to maybe settle their unspoken question, but he doesn’t. Instead, he gives them another friendly grin before putting his attention back on me.

“I guess I’ll let you finish,” he announces playfully.

I nod with my nose crinkled mid-smile. “That would be nice.”

His gaze lingers a bit longer, his eyes trailing over my frame. Then, after a brief moment, Parker pulls away, rises to his feet, and tips his hat to the crowd.

“Sorry to interrupt. She’s all yours.” He walks backward, barely missing the poster, when he turns and makes his way to the wall several feet away from my booth.

For the next thirty to forty minutes, I continue to work, signing and taking pictures while stealing glances at my man. Just the fact that he showed up here out of the blue does something to my insides.

Leah was right when she told me to stop overthinking and go with the process. For so long, loving and being loved by someone was a struggle, and I felt that every new relationship would fail in one way or another. Trust, loyalty, and simply being comfortable with someone weren’t always easy.

But not with Parker. Everything has been easy—nearly perfect, if perfect is even a thing. If you had asked me fourteen months ago if I thought I’d find myself in love with a man eight years younger than me, I would have laughed in your face.

Now though, I wouldn’t have it any other way. He’s mine, he’s here, and he loves me through and through. It’s evident in everything he does, in his actions, and when he’s not even trying. And as I sit here, thinking about how wonderful this man is to me, it all starts to make sense—Leah’s persistent calling and questioning. She was helping him surprise me. My smile widens, and I sign the last stack of books, then cap the metallic gold marker.

Parker pushes off the wall at the same time as I stand. He’s walking toward me when the overhead speaker blares and the event organizer’s voice pours out.

“Thank you, everyone, for helping to make this another successful event. We have about five more minutes before we officially end until next year. Readers, please exit through the far-left exit. Authors, if you would hang back for just a bit, that would be great.” The woman continues her speech while the readers exit the ballroom.

Everyone is breaking down their setups, repacking boxes, and putting away all their supplies. My assistant and I are working on storing my items when Parker joins us. Without instruction, he breaks down the banner and loads unsold books into boxes.

“Where do you want these?” he holds up a stack of bookmarks.

My assistant, Layla, rushes to grab the boxes and hand them to him. “You can put those in here. The books go back in the larger boxes.” She points behind him. “And the rest you can stuff where ever they will fit. Then we’ll need to tape them closed and put these shipping labels on them.” Layla instructs and pulls a stack of mailing labels from the clipboard she’s carried with her all day.

Parker listens intently. “Got it. Are we takin’ ‘em anywhere after this?”

She shakes her head. “Nope. The coordinator will make sure they get mailed off. We have to do all the packing, though.”

With his lips pressed into a tight smile, he says, “Easy enough.”

Layla saunters off to work on something else, and I take a moment to approach my man. Parker looks at me, an expression that tells me he’s impressed with her written in the lines on his handsome face.

“She’s good, right?” I close the little gap between us and wrap my arms around his neck.

Parker follows my lead by draping his arms around my waist and pulling me even closer. So close, I feel his heart beating in tune with my own.

“Is this what Leah was being suspicious about?”

There’s a flash of something in his features, but it disappears just as quickly as it formed. “What do you mean?”

“She kept calling me back-to-back today. So now I know it’s because you were coming to surprise me.”

His shoulders seem to relax, but before I can ask if he’s okay, he kisses me again. “I’m surprised she held that in. You know she can’t hold water.”

We laugh.

“Don’t I know it.” Raking my palm down his chest, I pat his heart, then step away. “All right, let’s get out of here.”

PARKER

“BABE, we really didn’t have to go out for dinner. The fact that you surprised me with this visit is more than enough for me. I would have happily gotten room service and enjoyed just laying up with you,” Renee says for probably the third time since we left the venue.

“I know that, but you’ve worked hard today, and this is my way of celebrating that and showing how proud of you I am,” I reply while pulling open the chrome-cased glass door.

Instead of pushing the issue further, she inhales and steps into the restaurant. I follow suit, watching as she surveys the place. The atmosphere is perfect for tonight. The lighting is low, and thanks to the soft music pouring through the speakers, it’s romantic. Couples are scattered through the restaurant, smiling and engaging in conversation.

“Wow. How did you hear about this place?” Renee throws over her shoulder as she reaches her hand behind her.

Taking her silent cue, I lock my fingers with hers and saunter in close. Her body is soft against my form, my cock already growing excited. Letting my gaze trail the side of her face, down to her collarbone, and over the rise and fall of her chest, I admire how beautiful she is. So poised and elegant in the public eye, but also fun, loving, and compassionate. Everything about her drives me crazy, from her beautiful brain, resilience and strength, and every ounce of desire and ambition in her pretty little body.

Every day, I internally thank her ex for fucking up. And in a way, I’m grateful for Madison too. Because if it weren’t for the two of them breaking our hearts, we would have never found each other. She wouldn’t have been mine to love, and I’m forever thankful for that.

Blinking away my thoughts, I let out a breath and answer her question. “Leah.”

Renee turns to face me, pressing her chest into mine and staring at me. “What are you two up to?” she quizzes.

“Sorry for the wait. We’re pretty swamped tonight.” Finally, the host arrives in time to save me from having to make up something on the fly.

She’ll find out soon enough, and if everything goes according to plan, it’ll only be a matter of minutes. Deciding to do this today was last minute but not impulsive. I bought the ring months ago with the help of my mother, and ever since Leah found it, I’ve gone out of my way to keep this secret until the perfect moment.

But Denton was right. Time is different for everyone. There’s no perfect moment, only the moment that’s perfect for you, and this is it for me. I’ve known I’ve wanted to be a husband since I was eight, and I’ve finally found the woman I want to be my wife.

Renee shifts to give the young girl her attention. “It’s not a problem at all.” She steps up to the podium. “Um. Is there much of a wait for a table for two?”

I rush forward, resting my hand on Renee’s shoulder. “We have a reservation. McNeely.”

The girl’s spine stiffens as she barely loses the battle with a smile that so desperately wants to peek out when she looks at Renee. I make eye contact with her, silently willing her not to give away my plan. She doesn’t, and I release a sigh.

“Of course,” the girl says, then waves for us to follow her.

I nudge Renee forward, and she pulls me along, her fingers still intertwined with mine. My heart races, and suddenly all the blood in my body seem to rush to my ears. This is it. Once we turn the corner to their private dining room, Renee will know what we’ve been up to. And there isn’t a doubt in my mind that she’ll say yes.

The walk through restaurant feels like an eternity. Every step seems a mile long as the anticipation builds all around me. Pulling this off has taken every favor I’ve ever been owed, plus Leah’s keen sense of persuasion. And you can best believe Chance, Wes, and Zach gave me hell yet again for dragging them into my elaborate plans of winning over this woman.

Getting everyone on a plane at the last minute and in place has proven to be a challenge, but with Leah’s help, it all came together. At least, I hope it has. Checking and returning text messages has been challenging with Renee next to me. She’s already suspicious and I knew the constant dinging of my phone would only deepen that. So from the moment I stepped into the conference center, my phone has been on silent.

Right now, I can only hope things have gone off without a hitch. Not that Renee would need something extravagant to be happy. She’s content with it just being the two of us. But I want our friends and family to be present when I pop the question. I want them to experience this with us because she and I wouldn’t even be a thing without them.

The host approaches the closed door that leads into the private dining area, and with her palms pressed against the sliding door, she glances back at me. I nod, silently telling her to get on with it. A lump forms in my throat as she inches the heavy wood structure to the side.

Renee’s attention is off the left while she observes a man feeding his date food from his plate. She smiles, and just that tiny bit of happiness from her sends a flurry of flutters through my gut. She’s so fucking perfect for me.

“Hey, sissy,” Renee’s sister says once the door opens.

Renee snaps her gaze forward, and from where I stand behind her and thanks to my height over her, I see the shock racing its way through her body.

“Ari,” Renee squeals and rushes into her sister’s arms. “Oh my, God. What are you doing here?” The moment the words slip past her lips, she looks around, immediately taken aback.

Renee stumbles into me, and I help to keep her upright. Everyone is here, but I search the crowd of faces for the person I was hoping for the most—her mother. Unfortunately, they haven’t had the best relationship since Renee ended things with her cheating ex and moved to small-town Texas.

It’s important to me that her mother be here, that she’s a part of not just Renee’s life, but ours. One day we’ll have kids of our own, and while my parents are here and love Renee like she’s their own daughter, I know she’s going to want her mother to support her during those times.

My racing heart settles when I spot Regina on the other side of the room. She’s off to the side, almost as if she’s hiding, but she’s here, which accounts for everything. I give her a smile, and she returns the gesture to my surprise.

“What’s going on?” Renee quizzes while throwing her gaze around the room, her posture shifting with each new face she recognizes. But when she finally spots her mother, she goes through the most change.

I can’t tell if the jerk of her body is because she’s happy or reluctant about how she should react. But then her shoulders relax, and she strolls to where her mother is—still inquiring about the plan along the way.

“Seriously, somebody tell me something,” she demands.

“Parker forced us to be here,” Chance exclaims from the other side of the table. Charlie swats his arm, whispering for him to stop.

“Shut up, Chance,” Leah snips. “He asked us to be here.”

Renee is finally standing in front of her mother, and the two stare at each other for a moment before Regina pulls her daughter into a motherly hug. Renee wraps her arms around her mother’s waist, and I see the tension, pain, and hurt erase for them both. Renee would never admit her torn relationship with the woman who raised her. When asked, she always downplays its, barely admitting it to herself. But right now, I can tell just how much she missed her mother and just how much Regina missed her daughter.

“You look beautiful,” Regina proclaims when they break their embrace.

They wipe tears from their eyes simultaneously as Regina takes Renee’s hand in hers. Finally, Ari joins them with her arms outstretched for a family hug.

“Thank you,” Renee says once she finds her words. Then, unable to hold her emotions, she releases a subtle laugh. “What is happening?” Her voice is hoarse and cracked, and I sense she’s trying to keep it together.

“We’re proud of you and wanted to show you that,” Leah says from her place next to Denton.

“So you all flew to California just to tell me you’re proud of me?” She holds her arms out at her side.

“Why wouldn’t we?” Ari tugs her sister close.

There’s a knock on the wall, and I turn to see the waiter coming with bottles of champagne and trays of appetizers.

“Finally,” Wes quips, and everyone laughs.

“How long have y’all been waiting?” Renee questions and then makes her way back over to me. She wraps her arms around me, melting into my touch.

“A little over half an hour. We all just landed really, but we didn’t get a chance to eat anything before Leah threatened us to get on a plane,” Ayesha adds.

More laughter fills the space.

“I did not threaten anyone. I simply encouraged you very strongly,” she defends and grabs her champagne flute, burying herself behind the rim.

My mother chuckles and comes over to where Renee and I are. “And we all know how convincing Leah can be. Come here, darlin’.” She gestures for Renee to bring it in for a hug. She holds her close and whispers loud enough for me to hear. “Just know I’ve been dying for this moment. So happy to have you in our lives.”

Renee leans back, staring between us, confused. “Thank you, Mrs. Daphne,” she drags out and furrows her brow at me.

My mother returns to my father’s side, making a plate of appetizers for them to share.

“Okay, this is too much. Someone tell me what’s happening. Is there bad news or something? Why is everyone being so weird? And don’t say it’s to celebrate me.”

Removing the black box from my pocket, I take a step back and drop down on one knee. Renee is facing away from me, her shoulders hiked around her ears, waiting for answers. The room quiets, save for the squeals coming from Leah and Ari. Renee frowns, then turns to find me, ring in hand on bended knee.

“We’re all proud of you, but that isn’t the only reason I asked everyone to be here today.” I lick my lips and swallow a breath.

“Parker.” Renee’s hand go to her mouth, and she speaks into her palm, a tremble evident in her voice.

“Renee, you’re the best thing to ever happen to me. When I’d all but given up on finding love again, there you were, sitting on the other end of the bar. You were made for me, and I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life being your inspiration. You deserve the world, and I only hope you think I’m half the man you need to give you that.”

A tear streams down her face as she stares at me. Behind her, I catch glimpses of my mother, who’s grinning from ear to ear, and my proud father. Denton is holding Leah to his chest, and Chance has an arm around Charlie’s neck. Zack is watching intently next to Ayesha, and Wes is standing next to Ari and Regina. They all seem genuinely happy and eager for us, and it means the world that they made it out on such short notice.

“If you’ll let me, I’d love to be the man to bring a smile to your gorgeous face every day for the rest of our lives. So right here, in front of all our friends and family, I want to ask…Will you marry me?”

The air in the room seems to dissipate as we all wait and watch for her response. I release the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding and roll my shoulders. Finally, Renee steps close, her hand still cupped to her mouth.

“Yes,” she says though it comes out hushed. She clears her throat. “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

She holds her hand out, and I tremble as I remove the 2-karat ring from the box and slide it on her finger. Cheers erupt from those around us, and I quickly stand and pull her body flush against mine.

I press my forehead against hers while holding her so tight I won’t be surprised if she’s bruised in the morning. “I love you.”

She cups my cheeks, her soft skin feeling amazing against my flesh. “I love you, too.”

“I promise I will spend every day making you happy.”

She kisses me. It’s fleeting but the best kiss I’ve ever had. Is that what it’s going to be like now? The simplest of gestures feels more intense now that she’ll be mine. Not that she wasn’t before, but soon she’ll be my wife. Soon she’ll carry my name and one day have my children.

That does something to me, and I think I finally get what my Pops and Denton felt.

“As long as I have you, then I’m happy. Everything else is just a bonus. Thank you for loving me,” she adds.

“Thank you for teaching me how.” With that, I devour her mouth with mine, claiming her in front of the people we love.

Did you enjoy this bonus epilogue for Parker and Renee? Start the Coldbank Cowboy series today!

About the Author

Sade Rena is a USA Today Bestselling Author.

She writes sexy contemporary and multicultural romances with heroes who are sweet on their ladies, dirty in the sheets, but completely irresistible.

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CONRAD & WYN

EXTENDED EPILOGUE

SAFFRON KENT

“THE LIGHTING IS GREAT HERE. Did you say you’re an art student?”

I look away from the windows and focus on the realtor. She looks to be in her mid-twenties, super cheerful and bubbly and, smiling at her, I say, “Yes, I am.”

I feel a hint of pride in my chest at this.

The fact that I’m an art student. That I’m studying art. I’m getting a degree in art.

Isn’t that wonderful?

Isn’t that the most amazing thing in the whole world?

To be doing what I love. And to be telling people about it.

The realtor definitely thinks so; because she smiles bright and nods. “That’s amazing. I wish I could paint. But I content myself with admiring other people’s work.” Then, “Well, since you’re an art student, you will definitely appreciate these windows and all the natural light.” She walks in a circle as she keeps talking, “This would be a great space to create. Tall ceilings; everything is so spacious and yet homey with that fireplace.”

She points to the brick fireplace on the left and I have to say that she’s definitely selling me on this apartment.

When I never even wanted to come here in the first place.

This listing was in my no pile.

I mean I loved it of course. When I saw it on the website.

Why wouldn’t I?

Everything that she’s saying, I could already see online. Plus it’s close to all the relevant places in the city. So yeah, there’s a lot to love here. And yet, there are a variety of reasons why I rejected it.

Which are still valid.

So I say, “It’s a fantastic place but–”

“We’ll take it.”

A voice, deep and authoritative, and coming from the far side of the room, makes me turn toward it.

Toward him.

The man I’m in love with.

Conrad.

We’re in one of the bedrooms right now and he stands at the threshold, almost filling the entire doorway with his broad shoulders and tall body.

Like always when I look at him for the first time after a while, I have to take a deep breath. I have to absorb him for a few seconds. His long-ish golden brown hair; his beautifully carved face; the strong lines of his jaw; his soft mouth.

But most of all his eyes.

Deep blue. The color of denim.

There was a time when I’d spend hours and hours thinking about the color of his eyes, imagining it in my head. I’d also think about his dirty blond hair, the length of it, the richness. I’d imagine running my fingers through it.

I’d hope and wish and dream that one day I’d get to do it.

That one day I’d get to touch him.

And well, sometimes dreams do come true, don’t they?

Yes, they do.

In fact, sometimes it so happens that your life itself becomes a dream.

A wonderful, glorious dream.

Where you not only get to touch the man you’re in love with, your dream man, but he wants to touch you too. Where he loves you as much as you love him. Where he makes you feel alive. Where he inspires you and fills your heart with both joy and purpose.

Not only that but where you get to move in with him.

In the city of your dreams.

New York.

Where we both will be pursuing our dream: me studying art, and him coaching a pro-soccer team.

Which is why we’re here today. Because we’re moving to New York in a few weeks, and we need an apartment. But this wasn’t the plan. Saying yes to this apartment, I mean.

When he brought me here, without telling me that we were in fact going to see the apartment that we’d specifically put in the no pile, he said that it was simply to have a look. Just to cover all our bases. And while I didn’t understand why in order to cover all our bases, we needed to see the apartment that we were definitely not going to take, I still agreed to it.

So I’m not at all sure as to what he’s doing.

Before I can interrupt, the realtor chirps, “That’s wonderful. If you like, we could fill out the application and get all the paperwork going right now.”

With his hands down the pockets of his jeans, he throws out a short nod. “Sure.”

I frown. “But I think–”

He cuts me off though when he says – to the realtor, might I add, and not to me – “Lead the way.”

And then they’re both off to the living room while I stand here with my mouth open, all flabbergasted.

What’s happening?

What is he doing?

Why are we filling out the application for an apartment that we are definitely not going to take?

When I hear their murmured conversation and rustling of papers, I pull myself together and walk out. They’re at the kitchen island, poring over the forms and all the financial documents that we’ll need along with the application and so on.

Even though they’re both engrossed in their task, I still try to catch Conrad’s attention.

“Uh, Conrad,” I call out. “I think–”

“So what’s the process if down the road, we’d like to buy rather than rent?” he asks, cutting me off. Yet again.

I’d be more offended at his interruption–and I am, believe me–but I’m extremely concerned about what he just said.

Buying.

Did he just say buying?

This time along with my mouth, my eyes are circled wide as well, as I watch him like he’s lost his mind.

Why are we talking about buying?

When did we decide to buy anything?

Most of all though, why isn’t he looking at me?

But of course, the realtor doesn’t know that and so while I stand here, panicking, she has gone off on a very enthusiastic tangent about the buyer’s market and property values and escrow. And Conrad, the planner and the most responsible man I’ve ever met in my entire life, is nodding along, listening to her talk like she’s imparting God’s wisdom.

This goes on for nearly fifteen minutes and in that time, I swear I try to interject.

But Conrad won’t let me. And neither will he look at me.

I think it gets to a point where even the realtor knows that there’s something wrong. And she throws me a few sympathetic glances. Which grow in intensity as more time passes and still, the man I’m in love with won’t spare me a glance.

And I don’t understand why.

I don’t understand what’s going on and why he’s acting this way. All aloof and grim. And why he won’t let me speak as he submits the application, shakes hands with the realtor and ushers me out of the apartment.

Two hours later when we arrive at the house we’re currently living in, I still don’t have a clue. And you know what, I’m getting pissed now.

I’m getting super pissed at his secretive, cage-y behavior.

However to be fair, I’d like to mention that Conrad isn’t very good at expressing his emotions. I mean, there was a time when he had me convinced that he wanted nothing to do with me–while I was pining away for him, drawing his face in my sketchpad every night and writing him letters.

Thankfully though, that was a lie. The fact that he wasn’t interested in me, I mean.

He was.

He so was.

But he held himself back because I was his baby sister’s best friend and his student–he used to be our soccer coach before he was snapped up by the New York City FC–and younger than him.

It was only after a lot of struggle on my part did he reveal his feelings for me. And I’m not going to lie, it was the best thing ever. To finally find out the man that I’ve been dreaming about for months on end also dreamed about me.

But anyway, he’s not the best communicator.

Ever since we got together a couple of months back though, he’s been doing relatively better. About telling me things, expressing himself, keeping me in the loop.

So this is making me even angrier.

This backslide.

As soon as we get inside the house, I decide to confront him.

Standing in the living room, I say, “Conrad, I think we need–”

“I’m going out for a run,” he says, interrupting me probably for the tenth time today.

“What?” I ask, watching his retreating back as he strides over to the bedroom.

“I’m going to be late,” he says, without looking at me. “So don’t wait up.”

That gets me moving.

That pushes me over the edge, his casual tone, his indifference. His complete denial to acknowledge that there’s something wrong.

With my hands fisted at my sides, I march over to the bedroom myself where I find him in the process of taking his shirt off.

It’s navy blue and this morning when he’d put it on to go see the realtor, I thought it matched so beautifully with his dark blue eyes.

I still think so.

But this suits him more: no shirt.

His back is to me, and I watch his shoulders roll as he discards his shirt. The planes of his massive, sculpted back twitching as he very carefully lifts the lid of the laundry basket right by the bathroom and drops the garment in it.

Yeah, this suits him.

All that golden skin and those dense muscles on display. How his dirty blond long-ish hair brushes against the back of his neck and his shoulders even. But when he raises his arm, rippling and flexing his muscles, and plows his fingers through his hair all agitatedly, I remember that I need to focus.

I remember that something is going on with him and that we need to talk.

So, taking a deep breath, I try to get his attention again. “Conrad.”

He pauses on his way over to the closet where I’m assuming he was going to get his workout t-shirt from.

Good.

This gives me a chance to cross over and stand in front of him. To really get up in his face, stand toe to toe with him with my neck craned up and my eyes staring directly into his fiery ones.

“What’s going on?” I ask in a clear and determined voice.

His features however remain blank and cool as he replies, “I’m going for a run.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Bronwyn.”

Just that. My name.

My full name.

To everyone else, I’m Wyn. But to him, I’m Bronwyn.

Now and forever.

Which I hate to say right now gives me some delicious shivers. His insistence on calling me by the name that almost no one else calls me. His deep cadence; his controlled tone.

I frown. “Why are you acting like this?” Then, without giving him a chance to answer, I continue, “Why are you being such a dick?”

At this, he finally shows some reaction.

His jaw clenches and his eyes narrow slightly as he clips, “Language.”

I have to tighten my belly at his command. So familiar and so dear.

So sexy.

The way he voices it. The way he simply expects to be obeyed. Like people can never refuse him. Like they don’t have the ability to not do what he tells them to do.

I’ve always found it super attractive.

His inherent authority.

And if we weren’t fighting right now, I would’ve jumped him. I would’ve climbed the golden expanse of his strong body and kissed the fuck out of him.

As it is, I can’t.

Because we have more important things to discuss.

Steeling myself against his radiating sexiness and his gorgeous chest, I lift my chin. “What about it?”

His nostrils flare. “Watch it.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

I stare at him for a few seconds, at his hardened features and his bright eyes, before saying, “That doesn’t work on me, Conrad.” I raise my eyebrows. “Remember? I’m not one of your players or one of your siblings.”

That’s where it comes from. His authority. His inherent dominance.

The fact that he’s a soccer coach–a brilliant soccer coach–and a big brother. Of four younger siblings.

Which means he’s used to throwing orders around and having them obeyed.

But tough luck. Because it’s not going to work with me.

His jaw tics at my statement, and his eyes narrow further as he keeps staring down at me. Then, “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“So what are you, then?”

There’s no hesitation in me when I step even closer to him–even though there’s hardly any space between us–and I reply, “I’m a wallflower. Your wallflower.”

I swear he shudders.

It’s very slight and barely noticeable but I wasn’t lying when I said that I was his wallflower because even though it’s hardly visible, I see it.

I see the twitch of his chest, the flexing of his fists by his sides.

I see everything.

Because I’m his and he’s mine.

And that’s why this whole not sharing with me what’s going on with him is really making me angry.

Not that it makes any difference to him because, breathing out sharply, he says, “I need you to move out of my way and–”

“No,” I cut him off. “Not until you tell me what your problem is. Not until you tell me why you’ve been ignoring me all morning and why the hell,”—his jaw clenches at my ‘hell’ but I don’t care—“did you say yes to that apartment? I mean, we talked about this. That apartment was in our no pile. We had made up our minds and then you just–”

“We didn’t.”

“What?”

He stares down at me for a few beats but then his features… sort of crumple. As in, they lose their blankness and aloofness, and I can see something flash over them. Something troubled and mysterious.

After which, he clenches his jaw again as he replies, “We didn’t.” When I still don’t understand, he explains, “Agree to anything. You did.”

“What does that–”

“Although,” he goes on, speaking over me. “I’d like to know why.”

“Why what?”

Up until now, I was the one up in his face but it’s his turn.

And he’s much more aggressive about it. He’s much more aggressive about closing the distance between us. Or rather dislodging me from my spot because there’s literally no space left between us. And while I stopped when I realized that there’s no more closeness to be had, he doesn’t.

He keeps going.

He keeps advancing on me and backing me up, his feet pushing mine back, his denim eyes consuming me, his corded chest, his big body overpowering mine with every step.

When my back hits something–the wall–he stops and puts a hand up, hanging over me like a shadow. And I can’t help but say, “You know this doesn’t scare me either, don’t you?”

He lowers himself further. “Yeah. Nothing scares you ever, does it?”

I shake my head. “Not when it comes to you.”

It’s the truest statement ever.

I’m not the most outgoing person in the world. I don’t do rash or bold things. I’m more of a wallflower, as I said before. Shy and quiet, keeping my head down.

But with him–my thorn–I’m someone else.

I’ve always been someone else. Someone who writes sexy love letters to her coach; someone who pursues him with a single-minded determination; someone strong enough to break down all his walls.

With him, I’m brave and free.

And he knows that. He knows that I’m not going to back down until he tells me what his problem is.

He grits his teeth for a second. Then, “So then tell me why.”

I’m still confused so I repeat my question. “Why what?”

“Why was that apartment in your no pile?”

My heart thuds.

Damn it.

Why did he have to ask me that? Why did he have to turn the tables on me?

There’s a big reason why that apartment even with all its good qualities was in my no pile. But I’m not going to share that reason with him. Mostly because he’ll be angry.

And hurt.

And an apartment isn’t worth all that.

Clutching my dress–I’m wearing a cute dress with dark pink flowers on it; one of his favorites–I say, “Why don’t you answer my question first?”

His eyes flick back and forth between mine. “Not until you answer mine.”

“I asked you first.”

“I don’t fucking care.”

I grit my own teeth. “Stop being an asshole.”

He grits his harder. “Stop being a brat.”

I glare up at him and his jaw clenches harder. Then, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You’re the one who wanted to talk about things, weren’t you? You were the one who wouldn’t get out of my way.”

“I–”

“So now talk.”

My breaths are heaving, and I truly hate him for putting me in this position. “I changed my mind. Go. Run. Run all night for all I care.”

He stares at me for a few seconds. “Talk.”

Damn it.

Why is he so stubborn?

“I didn’t like it,” I say finally.

“Bullshit.”

“It had too many windows.”

“It had just enough.”

I swallow. “I didn’t like the color of the hardwood floors.”

“Fuck the color of the hardwood floors.”

“And the ceiling was too high.”

“Which means jack shit to you.”

I stab my finger at him. “Hey, I know about tall ceilings, okay? I know enough to know that I don’t like them.”

He inches closer.

To the point where my finger touches his bare chest.

It’s only a small touch. In comparison to all the other things that we’ve done, in all the other ways that he’s touched me, and I’ve touched him, this tiny pressing of my fingertip on his heated chest is nothing.

But still, it feels like my skin is tingling.

My skin is too tight for my body.

Too heated and restless. My skin is a living thing.

Just like my heart right now.

My love. My lust for this stubborn man.

“Why was it on your no pile, Bronwyn?” he asks, his voice deep and his eyes insistent.

“Because.”

“You promised.”

“Promised what?”

He takes a few seconds to answer. But when he does, I know that it’s game over. I know that I’ll have to tell him the real reason.

“That you won’t hide from me,” he rasps.

And my heart squeezes and squeezes in my chest.

There was a time when I hid things from him. Things like how crazy I was for him. How every night, I’d write his name on my body. I’d decorate my skin in the name of his love.

How in the dark of the night, I’d turn myself into a piece of art.

All for him.

When I finally revealed my secret, he made me promise that I’d never hide anything from him. That I’d tell him everything that was in my heart. And I’d readily made that promise, see. Because I had nothing to hide from him.

Not from my thorn.

But.

I hate that he’s doing this right now. I hate that he’s playing that card when I’m trying to protect him, take care of him. And I hate it so much that I can’t help but press my finger on his chest harder.

I can’t help but scrape his gorgeous, glorious skin with my nail as I say, “Because of you, you idiot. I put that stupid apartment in the stupid no pile because of you.”

My answer makes his chest move.

On a big wave.

It makes him grit his jaw hard as his sculpted cheekbones flush with his anger.

“Because you think I can’t afford it,” he clips.

“I–”

“Isn’t it?”

“No, it’s–”

His fingers on the wall flex and so do the muscles on his shoulders and his biceps. “Because you think I can’t take care of you. Because you think I don’t have the money to take care of you.” He scoffs, his eyes narrowing further. “All those lists. All those apartments in your no fucking pile. All those reasons you kept giving. All those stupid fucking reasons as if I wouldn’t get it. As if I’m fucking stupid. Too small, too big, too close, too far. Too much personality, not enough personality. Fucking lies, weren’t they? You put them all on your no pile not because you didn’t like them but because you think I’m not capable of providing for you. You think I’m not capable of taking care of you like you deserve. I’m not capable of giving you the kind of life you had before. You think–”

“The kind of life I had before,” I whisper.

Something flashes across his features then. At my whispered words. Something very similar to regret. As if he misspoke. As if he shouldn’t have said it.

And yes, he shouldn’t have.

He’s the last person I would’ve expected to say something like that. And he realizes that.

The stupid man in front of me realizes his mistake and he goes to say, “I didn’t–”

“You know the kind of life I had before,” I speak over him again but this time my voice is stronger. “You know. You know how I lived before. How trapped I was. How unhappy and caged I was. Until you.” I put my hand–both my hands–on his chest now. “You know all that.”

His remorse is even thicker now.

But I don’t let it deter me or my anger. Because I’m right. He does know.

He has firsthand seen how my parents–my rich and influential and well off parents–treated me back home. How they were against everything I stood for and wanted to do with my life. They hated my art. They hated my creativity. It was the very reason they’d sent me to St. Mary’s School for Troubled Teenagers. So I could be fixed and reformed. So I could become their perfect daughter who liked and did all the right things.

For the longest time, I thought they were right.

I thought I should get fixed.

Until he came along–my Conrad–and made me realize that I don’t need fixing.

That I’m perfect the way I am.

So how dare he?

How fucking dare he?

“Bronwyn, I didn’t–”

I push at his chest and again don’t give him the chance to speak. “You want to know why they were in my no pile, Conrad? They were in my no pile because I think you’re more than capable of taking care of me. You’re more than capable of giving me the kind of life I deserve. So much so that you’ll even put my needs in front of yours. You’ll run yourself ragged trying to provide for me like I’m some kind of a damsel in distress. Like I’m a princess who has to have everything. Every diamond, every piece of jewelry, every freaking tiara. Because that’s what you do, don’t you? That’s what you’ve been doing all your life and you don’t know how to draw a line. You don’t know how to not take care of everyone. You don’t know how to stop.”

And then I say it. I just say it even though I know it will make him angry.

“And because,” I say with a deep breath, “that’s what you’ve been doing with this house.”

He is.

He is doing exactly the same thing with this house of his.

Where we currently live.

This is the house where he grew up with his siblings. The siblings he’s been in charge of since the age of eighteen when their mom passed away.

Actually no, that’s not true.

He’s been taking care of them – his three younger brothers and a baby sister – ever since they were born. Because their dad, while he was with them before simply taking off and abandoning them, was useless and all the burden of providing for them fell on their mom. So Conrad, being the oldest, took care of his siblings while their mom worked three jobs.

It breaks my heart every time I think about it.

About how the man I love had to grow up so quickly, even before his time. How he had to make all the sacrifices to be there for his family, and how for the longest time, he thought he wasn’t allowed to dream. He wasn’t allowed to reach for the things he truly wanted because he had to be there for others.

Even though I’ve tried to dispel him of this notion, it’s still really hard for him. It’s hard for him to put himself over others. And in his typical way, he’s still shouldering all the burden without accepting or even thinking about asking for help.

Like renovating this house.

It’s old and falling apart and contains some really bad memories for him, of his mother being sick before she died. I’ve been trying to convince him to update it, to give it a fresh and a happy look. In fact, I even painted a wall in his bedroom–the wall that I’m stuck to right now–to bring some color into his life.

Anyway, I was happy when he agreed. However, I had no idea that he’d be renovating it all on his own. As in, he won’t accept any monetary help from his brothers and God knows–and I know too–that they’ve tried.

All his brothers make a very good living being the soccer superstars that they are–Shepard and Ledger are both pro soccer players, and Stellan is the assistant coach for New York City FC where Conrad will work also–and they have all offered more than enough times to chip in.

But Conrad won’t listen.

He won’t accept their help and given that all the repairs and renovations are expensive, it’s taking a toll on him. Which of course he won’t ever let anyone notice.

But I do.

I notice everything.

Plus I notice what he does for me. How he buys me gifts–from expensive jewelry to paint brushes and dresses–and treats me to dinners and that getaway last weekend. How he gives me things before I can even say or think them. And I knew–I absolutely knew–that if I let him, he’d pick the most expensive apartment, in the most expensive neighborhood of New York.

Hence my no pile.

Hence all those lies because I also knew that if I brought it up with him, the fact that he should probably slow down a bit and think about himself too and not just the people he loves, he’d lose it.

Like he did just now.

But you know what, I’m done tiptoeing around him.

If he insists on being an idiot, then I don’t care about not offending him or making him mad or hurting his masculine ego.

“What?” he clips, his eyes dark and fiery, all signs of earlier regret gone from his face.

I push at his chest again. “You heard me. I’m talking about how you’re bleeding yourself dry, taking care of everything on your own when it comes to this house. Do you think I don’t notice? You think I don’t know how your brothers keep offering to help but you dismiss them like they’re still children.” I shake my head. “I know, Conrad. I know what you’re doing. I also know that if I let you, you’ll destroy yourself taking care of me. And I’m not going to let that happen, okay? So you can forget about that apartment and buying houses or whatever it is that you and that realtor came up with.”

I swear that in the last couple of minutes, his body has grown even more heated. To the point that I know that my palms on his chest will come away all red and flushed.

All sweaty and shaky too.

Because I feel the vibrations of his words as he bites out, “I’m not going to apologize for taking care of my family.”

“I’m not asking you to. I’m–”

Putting his other arm up on the cheerfully painted wall as well, he cages me in and leans down even further. He brings our faces so close that when he speaks, I feel his words on my lips, on my own tongue.

I feel them vibrating in my chest, my belly.

In every part of my body.

“And I sure as fuck won’t apologize for loving you.”

I study him then. His flushed cheeks, his stubbled jaw. The messy strands of his hair that flutter over his strong brows. His tensed arms, his heavy and masculine scent.

And his eyes.

God, his midnight blue eyes.

They are burning. They are blazing.

They’re staring at me like I’m the only thing he sees in this world. Like he’s blind to everything else. Like he’d go to war for me. He’d battle and tear and rend and destroy anything and anyone who would dare to stop him.

From loving me.

Who’d dare to come between us.

Between him and his wallflower.

And I go all soft and melt-y at the sheer display of his love. At this crazy, insane, obsessive display of his love.

Something that I never thought I’d receive. And something that we’ve both fought very hard to hold on to and save from the world.

I splay my fingers over his chest, feeling the thrum of his heart under my palm as I whisper, “So then love me. Love me like no one has ever loved anyone before. No thorn has loved his wallflower before. Love me like you’re the last man and I’m the last girl and no one will ever love anyone after us.” I go up on my tiptoes then, grazing his lips with mine. “But don’t kill yourself while doing it. Because if you do, I’ll stop you, and I won’t apologize for that either. Because I love you too, Conrad. I love you like no one has ever loved anyone before, and no one ever will.”

For a few seconds, all he does is stare down at me. All he does is let me breathe against his mouth and caress his chest with my fingers.

For a few seconds, he lets me love him.

But then a sharp puff of breath escapes him and his whole body shudders under my touch and my breath as if it’s all too much for him. My breaths, my fingers, my love.

And he captures my mouth with his.

He completely consumes my mouth with his.

His teeth and his tongue and his taste. He fills me with them. He floods me and takes me over.

As always when he kisses me in that all-encompassing way of his, with his tongue thrusting inside my mouth and his hands grasping my face and my mermaid hair, as he calls it, I get greedy.

I want more.

I want him to fill me in other places too.

And as I said before, he gives me everything before I even say it. Which means, a few seconds into the kiss, his strong hands travel from my hair down to my waist, kneading and plumping my soft and yielding flesh.

Before he gives me a boost and picks me right off the floor.

Like I weigh nothing.

Like I’m the most fragile of creatures. The most feminine and delicate.

It never fails to make me all horny and lusty.

His masculine hands and athletic actions.

Moaning into his mouth, I wrap my thighs around his slim waist as he begins to walk.

I know where he’s taking me and even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t care.

I never do when I’m in his arms.

When I’m in his arms, the world disappears.

And so it’s always a slight shock when I find my spine sliding across the soft sheets of his–our–bed. Distractedly, I think that the sheets are pink. Like most of our other sheets. Which he pretends to grumble about when his brothers come around for a visit because they always smirk about how I’ve ‘girl-ified’ the house. But in reality, I know that he loves to see me wrapped around in pink.

It’s his favorite color on me.

Well, except for yellow. Because that was the color he saw me in, the first time we met.

But anyway, back to Conrad kissing me and laying me down on our soft, pink bed. Most importantly though, back to the fact that when we come up for air, I remember what we were talking about.

I remember that we were arguing about his love for me, our love for each other.

So when he comes down to capture my lips again, I stop him.

I dig the heels of my palms against his chest and gasp, “Wait.”

I feel his chest vibrating with a displeased growl.

To which, I reply, “First, promise me.”

“Promise you what?” he asks with almost wild eyes.

I tighten my thighs around his slim waist, pulling him into me even more. “That you’ll listen to me.” When his brows snap together, I add, “At least sometimes. You’ll listen to me when I’m concerned about you, about your well-being, and pull back.”

His nostrils flare and I know he doesn’t like that.

He doesn’t like to be told what to do. And so very gently, cautiously, I cup his harsh jaw with one hand and with the other, I brush the long strands of hair away from his brows as I whisper, “Please.”

When he still doesn’t say anything for the next few seconds, I decide to reach up and place a soft kiss on his mouth. But just as I’m about to do that he stops me. Propped up on his elbows, suspended over me, he fists my hair with his fingers and says, all gutturally, “I want you to marry me.”

I go still. “What?”

His chest moves across mine on a large breath, his hard muscles rubbing against the heavy, tingly breasts, and my belly tightens in response. The intense look in his eyes only grows as he says, “Tell me you’ll marry me.”

“M-Marry you?”

He clenches his jaw. “Tell me.” Then, “Tell me I have you for the rest of my life. Like this. All spread out underneath me. All soft and wrapped in pink. So fucking pretty and enchanting. With your creamy thighs open and your mermaid hair spread out on the pillow. Fighting with me, arguing with me, making me promise things that I don’t want to fucking promise but I will. I goddamn will because it’s you. Because I’m not capable of refusing you. Because I’d die first, walk on broken glass first. Because refusing you anything makes me physically sick.” His fingers tighten in my hair even more and he presses his torso into mine. “So yeah, I fucking promise. I promise to listen to you. Although I can’t promise that I’ll be happy about it. But I need to know that I have you. That for the rest of my life I have you here, with me, loving me. Loving me like no one has ever loved before. Tell me, Bronwyn. Because if I don’t… if I don’t have you, I’m going to–”

I finally reach up and put my mouth on him, kissing his words away so I can give him some of mine.

“I will.”

Even though this is the answer he wanted, he still looks shell shocked. He still looks stunned that I gave it to him.

Which is both crazy and adorable.

And so fucking lovable that I kiss him again.

He’s too numb to kiss me back but it’s okay. I’m content to lick his parted lips, suck on them, tangle my tongue with his, all on my own.

Until he wakes up.

With a growl.

That sounds and tastes so sweet.

As sweet as his thick, almost slurred words. “You will.”

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I nod. “Uh-huh.”

He still isn’t over his shock as he prods, “I have you.”

“You have me.”

“For the rest of my life.”

“For the rest of your fucking life.”

It’s a testament of how much I’ve shocked him that he doesn’t go all growly and “language” on me. Instead, he keeps inquiring, “Like this.”

My lips stretch into a smile. “Like this.”

He takes a few moments to absorb all my answers. As if he can’t believe that I said that.

That I agreed so easily.

Which makes me shake my head at him and ask him, “You didn’t know that?”

“Know what?”

“That I’d say yes.”

He swallows, his Adam’s Apple bobbing up and down jerkily. “I… I wanted you to. I had hoped. But I…”

I squeeze my limbs around him then. “You’re such an idiot.” He opens his mouth to say something but I don’t give him a chance. “Of course, I’d say yes. I’ll always say yes to you, Conrad. You’re my thorn and I’m your wallflower, and my answer is and will always be yes. In fact, I said yes the moment I saw you. That night. When you stopped on the side of the road to ask me if I was okay when no one had ever done that for me. And I said yes when you asked for my story and then listened to it. And after that when you walked me back home and said goodbye, I said yes then too. It’s always been a yes.”

Every word out of my mouth is the truth.

Every single word.

And to be very honest, I never even thought that he had to ask the question. I mean, every girl has that dream, doesn’t she? Every girl wants to be proposed to and while I’ve had many dreams in my life, this was never one of mine.

Maybe because of what I told him just now.

Because I did say yes to him the moment I met him.

But I guess I love it. I love that he asked. That he gave me that.

Like he’s given me so many, many things.

Things that I didn’t realize I wanted.

My thorn.

Who finally gets it through his head that I’m saying yes. That this is real. That our real life is so very much better than any dream that we’ve ever had.

Because in the next second, he growls in his usual way, “Language.”

Ah, so he finally caught up to my “fucking” from earlier.

I can’t stop smiling. “What about it?”

He brings his fingers down to my cheeks, tracing their curve. “Watch it.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

I look into his eyes, so pretty and so blue, so mine. “Okay.”

That gives him a pause and his thumbs circling over my flushed cheeks stop. “Okay?”

I grin. “Yes.”

His eyes narrow with suspicion. “Why?”

“Because you said so.”

“Because I said so.”

“And because you’re my future husband,” I chirp.

His lips twitch then. “I am that.”

“Which means that I’m your future wife.”

At this, his chest expands as if I’ve given him a new life. “You are.”

I play with the ends of his hair. “And so as your future wife, it’s sort of my duty.”

His eyes flash. “To obey me.”

“No.”

“So then what?”

“To let you think that you won some.”

His twitching lips stretch up into a lopsided smile. “Yeah?”

“Yes. And to let you think that you’re the boss when you’re clearly not.”

He chuckles. “Because you’re not one of my players or my siblings.”

“Nope.”

“You’re my wallflower.”

“I am.”

“And my future wife.”

“Yes.”

No words are spoken then. After my latest ‘yes.’ Because we have more important things to do. Like celebrating. By kissing each other. And taking each other’s clothes off until we’re both naked and flushed together.

Until he’s buried inside my body and pounding away like he’s dying and I let him because I’m dying too.

Because we’re both dying for each other.

And living.

We’re also going to live for each other. For the rest of our lives.

Because we’re getting married.

Because he’s my future husband and I’m his future wife.

And because we’ll always have each other.

Right now and today and tomorrow and next week.

We’ll have each other when we move to New York. We’ll have each other the first day of my art school and his new job; when I graduate and when he climbs the ladder of success that awaits him in his future as a soccer coach.

And then we’ll have each other through all the moments of life.

Big and small.

Because he’s my thorn and I’m his wallflower.

THE END

Start St. Mary’s Rebels series today!

About the Author

Writer of bad romances. Aspiring Lana Del Rey of the Book World. Saffron A. Kent is a USA Today Bestselling Author of Contemporary and New Adult romance. She has an MFA in Creative Writing and she lives in New York City with her nerdy and supportive husband, along with a million and one books. She also blogs. Her musings related to life, writing, books and everything in between can be found in her JOURNAL on her website (www.thesaffronkent.com)

THE CHOICE

AN INDIANAPOLIS LIGHTNING BONUS FROM THE CURVE BALL

SAMANTHA LIND

CHAPTER ONE

JUSTIN

I’VE JUST RETURNED HOME from a four-day road trip. I stand in the doorway to the backyard, watching as my wife plays with our son and daughter in the back yard, but they haven’t noticed me yet. I love soaking in these moments, watching how Evie is such a good big sister to Easton. Evie is three, and Easton is just over a year old, so definitely a handful.

“Daddy!” Evie calls out when she spots me and runs over to me, wrapping her arms around my legs.

“Hey, baby girl, have you been good for Mommy?” I ask her as I lift her into my arms and kiss her cheek.

“Yes, I’s a big girl, Daddy. I brushed my hair and got dressed all by myself,” she excitedly tells me.

“Wow, you are a big girl. How’s Easton been?” I ask her.

“He cried a lot,” she tells me.

I set her down and head toward Riley and Easton. I pick him up once I reach the two of them. “Come here, little man, let’s give mommy a break,” I say to Easton as I lift him. He squeals as I toss him in the air and catch him. “I hear this little one has been a handful,” I say to my wife, and I lean down to kiss her hello.

“Eh, just some teething pain. Nothing I can’t handle,” she says before standing up. She winces and presses a hand against her temple.

“Whoa, momma, are you okay there?” I ask her as I wrap an arm around her torso.

“Yeah, I think I just stood up too fast. I probably need to drink some water; it’s getting hot out here.”

I follow Riley and Evie inside, Easton on my hip as he babbles away.

“Why don’t you grab a water bottle and lay down for a bit?” I suggest. “I’ve got the kids.”

“I’ll be fine, babe, I just need some water, and I’ll be back to normal,” she insists. I don’t quite believe her as she looks a bit pale, but that isn’t something I’m going to point out right now. “How was the flight home?” She asks as she fills her water bottle up, and I watch intently as she chugs it down.

“Same ole, same ole,” I tell her.

“How’s Derek? After leaving the mound, he looked in a lot of pain.”

“I’m kinda worried about him, if I’m being honest. He was icing his shoulder again on the flight this morning. I won’t be shocked if he’s moved to the injured list for a while.”

“That sucks. I’ll have to call and check in on him later.” I know she worries about her brother and his throwing arm. Derek is not only my best friend, but also my brother-in-law, and teammate.

“Maybe we can do dinner together?”

“Sure, I’ll text Jillian and see if they have any plans,” Riley says as she reaches for her cell and types out a message. “She says they don’t have anything planned, so are up for whatever as long as it’s low key.”

“We can order some takeout and just hang out here,” I offer.

She types away on her phone; I’m sure she relays what I just suggested.

“Sounds like we’ve got a plan,” Riley tells me as she sets her phone down on the counter. “They’ll be over around five.”

I glance at the clock and see that it’s only two, “Perfect, gives us some time to put these two down for a nap and go have some us time.” I bounce my eyebrows at my wife.

“Only if you promise to take a nap with me afterward.”

“Gladly,” I tell her. “I’ll take little man if you want to take Evie, and then meet me in the bedroom.”

“Evie, sweetie, it’s nap time,” Riley tells her, and she takes off for her bedroom.

“Alright, little man, I need you to take your nap,” I tell my son as I take him into the nursery and get him changed before laying him down in the crib. I turn on his sound machine and turn off the lights. His eyes are already heavy and almost closed before I can shut the door.

I head down the hall, stopping in the doorway as I see Riley coming out of Evie’s room. She’s in nothing fancy, just a pair of shorts and a tank top, but damn if just the sight of her doesn’t get my cock stirring

Riley stops in front of me, her gaze meeting mine. I love seeing the hunger in her stare. She wants me just as much as I want her, and I hope we never lose that desire and pull to one another.

“Can I take a shower before we do anything?” I haven’t had one in two days, and I feel gross,” she confesses.

“How about we take one together?”

“I don’t know. Can you behave yourself?” She smirks, giving me a once-over.

“Why do I need to behave myself? The kids are both asleep, and I’ll have a naked and wet wife within my grasp. Why not start the orgasm count in the shower and finish it on the bed?”

“I do like the way you think, Mr. Johnson.”

I pull my wife into my arms, lifting her so I can kiss her properly. “Your pleasure is always my top priority,” I say between kissing her.

I walk us into the bathroom, setting her down so we can both strip. I quickly reach in and turn the water on.

I turn to find Riley naked, her nipples like beacons calling me home as they harden under my stare. “Fuck, baby. Just one look at you, and I’m weak in the knees.”

“You aren’t hard to look at either,” she smirks.

“You keep looking at me like that, and I’ll be coming all over your tits before we even get into the shower.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” she smiles at me. The little vixen that she’s turned into. It’s hard to believe sometimes that when we first met, she was a virgin. We’ve made good progress with that in our time together.

“You’re going to pay for that,” I pick her up, our laughter filling the bathroom as I step into the shower and press her against the tile wall.

“JJ,” she gasps as the cold tiles hits her skin, but I swallow it down when I cover her mouth with my own, kissing her deeply. I caress her tongue with my own, my hands trailing down her wet body. I love the way her curves feel underneath my fingertips. The way her body responds to my touch with goosebumps or the way she sucks in a breath as I skim over her ribs, the sensation slightly ticklish.

I skim my lips away from hers, sucking, nibbling, and kissing my way down her jaw and neck. I flash past her collarbone and down to her ample tits. Riley slides her hands into my hair, her nails scraping my scalp in the most delicious way. I pull one nipple into my mouth, suckling it the way I know makes Riley wet for me. I roll her other nipple between my thumb and fingers, giving it a few tugs before I switch it for the one in my mouth. The way her body squirms between mine and the wall tells me she’s ready for me to sink inside her.

I know Riley’s had enough when she tugs my head back with the grip on my hair, “Can you move this along?” She asks, her cheeks flaming red. She might have come a long way out of her sexual shell, but she’s still nervous or shy about always asking for what she wants.

“Do you want my tongue or my cock?” I can see the indecision in her eyes as she weighs her options.

“Why do you make me decide these kinds of things?” her smile is now taking over her expression.

“Because I want you fully satisfied.”

“Surprise me,” she says, and I do just that. I stand back to my full height, taking her with me as I pick her up and wrap her legs around my waist, bringing her wet entrance directly above my cock. Her wetness teases my tip and has my hips ready to thrust forward. I slip a hand between us, teasing her clit as I kiss her again. I slip two fingers into her channel, pumping them a few times as I make sure she’s ready for me. I pull them out and bring them to my lips, sucking her off my fingers. Her eyes go wide as she watches me.

“I can’t get enough of your taste; this will have to hold me over until later,” I wink at her before sliding my hand back between us so I can line my cock up with her opening and slide home.

“Ah,” she cries out as I slam into her, over and over again, making sure to swivel my hips just right to hit her g-spot. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she chants, her teeth scraping along my neck as she falls over the edge as her orgasm claims her. I thrust in, her muscles squeezing me like a vice grip that causes me to lose control, my orgasm racing from my body as I fill her with my cum.

I hold her tightly, the wall helping as my muscles shake after the exertion. “I love you,” Riley whispers, or at least it sounds like a whisper with the rushing water raining down on us.

“I love you too, baby,” I tell her as I finally slide out of her tightness. I immediately miss her vice-like grip on me, but know we need to finish up in the shower so we have time before the kids are up for their naps and our family arrives for dinner.

CHAPTER TWO

RILEY

“HEY, SIS,” Derek greets me as he walks in, my nephew in his arms. My sister-in-law and nieces trail shortly behind him as they all head for the backyard.

“Hey, how’s it going?”

“Can’t complain; the season looks promising, happy wife, happy kids, I’d say life is pretty damn good.”

“I’m so happy for you, Derek,” I tell my big brother. He almost lost it all a few years ago due to some stupid choices, but I’m so glad he worked his ass off to win his wife back. He’s completely changed the last couple of years, and all for the better.

“Same goes for you; you’ve come a long way in a short time,” he says and motions around. If you’d have told me two years ago that I’d be married to my brother’s best friend and have two kids – one a bonus daughter, one by birth – I’d have said you were crazy, but look at me now. I have all that, plus a heart full of all the love I could ever imagine. “When will you guys give me another niece or nephew to spoil?” He asks.

“No idea; I’m a little busy with the two we’ve got already.” I laugh.

“Oh, come on, the adjustment of two to three is nothing like the adjustment of one to two.”

“Says the man who’s on the road more than half the year and doesn’t have to take care of all those kids.” I deadpan. “If you want more babies around, why don’t you knock up your wife?” I raise an eyebrow at him in question.

“I tried, but she isn’t having it right now.”

“So, your next logical solution is for your sister to get knocked up?” I laugh at his logic.

He smirks. “I’m glad you see my way of thinking.”

I roll my eyes, “I’ll make sure to tell Justin that we’re doing it for you.”

“Fuck, Riley. When you put it that way, I can’t separate the idea of the two of you sleeping together.”

I laugh and pat him on the shoulder, “I don’t even want to know what you’ve been visioning before then.”

“What are we visioning?” Justin asks as he stops behind me and wraps his arms around me.

“Derek thinks we need to have another kid; I told him I’d make sure you knew we were getting it on for his benefit; now he can’t unsee the visions of us together, I quickly recap.

“Dude, get thoughts of my naked wife out of your head.”

“She’s my sister and trust me; I don’t want those thoughts. She’s still a little five-year-old in my mind.”

“She definitely isn’t five anymore,” JJ smirks as he kisses my neck.

“Fucker,” Derek says as he smacks him on the shoulder.

“Okay, boys, let’s take this outside,” I tell both of them.

They push and shove each other like they’re ten but eventually make it outside, where Jillian, my sister-in-law, is with the kids. Derek and Jillian’s daughters, Addison and Penny, play on the swing set along with Evie. JJ bends down and picks up a whiny Easton, who’s toddled over to his legs and wants up.

I sit on one of the patio chairs, a twinge of pain catching me off guard as I sit down. I must wince because Justin is at my side in a matter of seconds.

“What’s wrong?” He kneels so he’s at eye level with me.

“I don’t know; I just had a sharp pain slice through my lower abdomen.”

“Is it gone now?”

“Yeah, it was a quick, sharp pain, but it’s gone now. Probably just a gas bubble or something.” I try to reassure him nothing is seriously wrong with me.

“You weren’t feeling great earlier, and now this, I think you should go to the doctor and get checked out.”

“I’m fine,” I tell him as I cradle his cheek. “I don’t need to run to the doctor over a few twinges of pain. If I did, I’d be there every damn day.”

He grumbles but finally agrees that I don’t need to run to a doctor over something so simple.

“If it gets any worse, I’m taking you in,” he says before standing back up.

“Quit giving your wife so much grief and come help me with the kids,” Derek calls out to Justin. He leans down and kisses me before joining my brother at the play structure where they push the kids on the swings, then chase them around playing tag until everyone is a hot and tired mess.

“Food is here,” Jillian calls out as she walks outside with two large bags in her hands. I jump up to help her but double over due to the pain this time.

“Fu-fudge,” I cry out, stopping myself from cussing in front of all the kids.

“Riley,” Justin cries out as he comes rushing to my side. “What’s wrong, baby?” The concern is written all over his face.

“I don’t know, but the pain is back and not going away.”

“I think you should take her to the ER,” Jillian says. “We’ve got the kids; you guys go and see what’s happening.

I don’t argue, something is happening, and I don’t know what it is, other than some of the worst pain in my life, and I’ve been through childbirth.

Justin sweeps me into his arms, quickly taking me through the house and into the garage. He sets me into the passenger seat of his truck, helping to buckle me in. I don’t miss the look of worry on his face as he does so. “Everything is going to be okay,” I tell him as I cup his cheek.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispers before dropping a chaste kiss on my lips.

“You probably need these,” Derek says as he hands Justin his wallet, keys, and phone.

“Thanks, brother,” Justin tells him as Derek pulls him into a hug.

“Keep us posted; we’ve got the kids, so don’t worry about anything here.”

“Thanks; I’ll let you know what’s going on.”

“Go, get out of here; she doesn’t look good,” Derek tells him as he looks at me over Justin’s shoulder.

I grimace as another sharp pain hits me. “Fuck,“ I cry, this time not holding back since the kids aren’t around me.

“I’m coming, baby,” Justin says as he jumps into the driver’s seat. He’s ready to back out before the door fully opens, causing him to be impatient as we wait.

He speeds through the neighborhood and the main streets to the nearest hospital. He screeches to a stop just in front of the doors to the ER, jumping out and rounding to my side. He helps me out, then picks me back up to take me inside. As soon as we enter, a security guard is inside the door, almost as if he’s waiting for us to arrive.

“Mr. Johnson, we got a call from your sister-in-law giving us a heads up you were on your way in with your wife, come with me, and we’ll bypass the full waiting room,”

“Thank you,” Justin lowers me into the wheelchair the guard had with him. “My truck,” he starts to ask, but the guard cuts him off.

“No worries, I’ve got one of the valet guys on it, and he knows where to bring the claim ticket once parked.”

“Perfect,” Justin tells him as we head down a hall and inside a door marked ‘Authorized employees only’ across it. Past that door, we’re led into an exam room, where a nurse and doctor are already waiting.

“Mrs. Johnson, what’s going on today?” The doctor asks.

“I’ve felt off all day, but about an hour ago, I started having some sharp shooting pains in my lower abdomen; they started as just little twinges but now are getting stronger and lasting longer.”

“Are you, or could you be pregnant?”

“I’m not, but it’s always possible; my period hasn’t returned to normal since having our son”

“Let’s run a CBC, pregnancy test, and get an ultrasound,” the doctor tells the nurse.

“Right away,” she tells him as she hooks up an IV before taking some blood.

“I’ve put in for some stat results, so we should hopefully have some answers for you pretty quickly. Do you mind if I do a quick pelvic exam?”

“I don’t mind,” I tell him. Justin helps me undress as I’ve yet to be put into a hospital gown. I see the blood as soon as I take my shorts and panties off. It shocks me as I hadn’t realized I was bleeding.

“With blood present, I suspect we’re dealing with something early pregnancy related, but the test will let us know exactly what we’re dealing wi for sure.”

“Please, just help my wife,” Justin tells him.

“We’ll do everything we can, sir. She’s in good hands.”

I sit back on the bed, placing my feet in the stirrups that the nurse unfolded from the bed. As the doctor palpates my stomach and does his exam, the pain returns ten-fold, bringing with it nausea and chills.

“Where’s that ultrasound?” The doctor yells into the hallway. “I’m worried you’ve got a tube rupturing.” I see Justin go ghostly white.

“What does that mean?” He asks, holding my hand.

“If your wife is pregnant and the embryo embedded into her fallopian tube, rather than her uterus, then the tube would stretches until it can’t anymore and eventually ruptures. If that’s the case, it means your wife is bleeding internally, and we need to get her into the OR as soon as possible. She’ll lose the baby, but if we don’t stop the bleeding, she can bleed to death.”

“I can’t live without her, Doc. You’ve got to save my wife’s life. Whatever it takes.” Justin pleads with him, tears streaking down his cheeks now.

“We’ll do everything we can,” He assures him just as someone pushes a portable ultrasound machine into the room. The doctor squeezes some gel onto my abdomen and places the end on my stomach.

“She’s already ruptured; get me an OR stat,” he yells out.

“This is going to happen quickly, but it’s urgent.”

“Whatever it takes, just please save her,” Justin tells him again.

“A nurse will come in shortly with some paperwork for you to sign and then show you to a private waiting room. The surgery shouldn’t take more than an hour, and I’ll be back to talk to you once it’s done.”

“Thank you, Doc,” Justin tells him. “I’m sorry, I missed your name when we first arrived.”

“Dr. Marcus Stonewall.”

“Thank you, Dr. Stonewall. Please just take good care of her.”

“Of course, I’ll see you soon.”.

Justin leans down and kisses my lips. “I love you; please come back to me,” he says before they wheel me down the hall and into an OR. I’m greeted by a group of nurses, surgery techs, and the anesthesiologist.

“Mrs. Johnson, I’m Doctor Jules. I’ll be your anesthesiologist today. Are you allergic to anything?”

“No,” I tell her as they move me from the gurney to the surgery table.

“Perfect, we’ll get you to sleep here in just a minute or two. You won’t feel anything and will hopefully wake up pain-free. Do you have any questions?”

“Do you know if I’ll be able to have more kids after this?” I ask, tears falling from my eyes.

The tenderness I can see in her eyes is comforting. “From what little information I was given before you were wheeled in, I believe it only involves one tube. Since it is already ruptured, we’ll have to remove that tube, but you’ll still have the other. Many women go on to have multiple children with only one tube.”

“Okay, just do whatever you have to; I’ve got babies at home to get back to,” I tell her and everyone else in the room.

Tears coat my cheeks as my eyes close, the medicine kicking in as the doctors call out instructions and information to one another.

Chapter 3

Justin

A nurse walks into the room, a clipboard of papers in her hand. “Mr. Johnson, I’m Melody, and I need to go over these consent forms with you.”

“Okay,” I tell her as I hold my hand out to take them. She goes over each page, explaining all the pros and cons of them wheeling my wife into the OR just a few minutes ago. The pros definitely outnumber the cons, but there are still a shit ton of risks with surgery.

I sign each page she says needs signed, feeling like I’m signing my life away. Or Riley’s.

“I promise your wife is in good hands; she’s lucky you got her here so fast.”

“Thank you; I just can’t lose her,” I tell her, a sob escaping.

“Is there anyone I can call for you to come to wait with you?”.

“I’ll call our family shortly; I’m sure they’ll come down.”

“If that changes, just let me know. Now that the paperwork is done, let me show you a more comfortable waiting area.”

I follow Melody down the hall and into a small, private room. It has a handful of chairs along the walls and a TV hanging.

“If you need one of us, just pick up that phone and press the red button. It will ring at the nurse’s station. If your family comes down, tell them to check in with the security desk and ask for directions to family room C.”

“Thank you, Melody. I appreciate it.” I tell her before she leaves me alone.

I pull out my cell, typing a few words before erasing them and starting over. I do that four or five times before I give up and call Derek.

“What’s the verdict?” He asks as soon as the call connects.

“They have her in the OR,” I choke out. The seriousness of it all hit me once again. The woman I love more than life itself is currently bleeding internally and could have quickly bled to death at home, had this happened yesterday when I was on the road.

“What the fuck?” Derek yells. “Why is my sister in the fucking operating room?”

“Ectopic pregnancy. Her tube ruptured, and she was bleeding internally.”

“Holy shit. How are you holding up?” He asks, calming down once he has the information.

“I don’t know. I think I’m still in shock. Tell Jillian thanks for calling and letting them know we were on our way in.”

“You’re on speaker, so I’m here. You’re welcome. I didn’t want you to deal with fans bombarding you for autographs or pictures if they made you wait for a room.” She says. “I figured this was one of those times it was worth using the celebrity card.”

“They had a security guard meet us at the door. It was kind of crazy, but I won’t turn down that kind of service.”

“Glad it worked out so well then,” Jillian says.

“Do you want us to come down?” Derek asks.

“Not with all the kids. They will go stir crazy down here.”

“I can keep them at the house, and Derek can come down to sit with you. Do you want him to bring you something to eat?” Jillian offers.

“That’d be great; I am starving since we rushed out just as the food arrived.”

“I’m going to help Jillian get all the kids loaded and taken over to our house, and then I’ll head your way. Do either of you need a change of clothes or anything from the house?”

“I have no idea if they’ll release her once the surgery is done, so do you mind packing her an overnight bag? Probably her phone, charger, and maybe even her kindle or iPad. Maybe some comfortable PJs, our toothbrushes, and such? A charger for my phone as well.”

“I’ll go get her stuff packed now. I’m also going to pack an overnight bag for the kids.” Jillian assures me.

“Thank you, guys, so much,” I tell them as I run a hand over my face.

“Do you want to call Mom, or do you want me to let them know what’s going on?” Derek asks.

“Do you mind? I don’t want to talk to many people right now.” I tell him honestly.

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Thanks,” is all I can say.

“See you soon, brother. Try and take some deep breaths. She’s in good hands.”

The call ends, and I drop my phone on the chair. I lean back, resting my head on the wall as I let my eyes close. The idea that this could have happened while I was on the road keeps rolling through my mind. Who would have been there to take care of her? Would she have gone in without me insisting?

“Mr. Johnson,” Melody’s voice brings me out of my internal struggle. “Just checking in to see how you’re doing and if there’s anything you need.” Her sweet, motherly disposition is calming, especially in the turmoil I’m experiencing at the moment.

“I’m good, thank you. My brother-in-law is going to come down soon and stay with me. He’s bringing some things for Riley and me, along with some dinner for me. We’d just had food delivered when she doubled over in pain, and I rushed her out of the house. He’s helping his wife take all the kids back to their house and then will head this way,”

“Good, I always think it’s best to have someone to wait with you. The minutes feel like hours when someone we love is in a scary situation.”

“Agreed. Have you heard anything?”

“The board updated that the surgery had started, but that’s all I know. They don’t tend to call us with many updates while things are happening. Ectopic pregnancies and tubal removals happen frequently, so it is routine. She’s in good hands. One of our top trauma surgeons in the hospital.”

“That’s good to know.”

“Can I bring you anything? A soda? Coffee? Water?”.

“I’m good for now, but thank you.”

“Of course, I’ll check back in a little bit or when I’ve got word they are done.”

“Thanks,” I tell her before she heads out the door. I tap the screen of my phone, checking the time. It’s only been thirty minutes since Riley was wheeled away from me, but it feels like a fucking lifetime.

I grab the remote, turning the TV on. I flip through the channels, just trying to find something to focus on rather than the thoughts of my wife in the OR possibly fighting for her life.

I stop at a baseball game. I focus on the pitches. It’s the one thing that can usually make me drown out everything around me. I watch the pitcher’s and catchers’ movements; those ever so slight shakes of their heads as they communicate from sixty feet away. Every pitcher and catcher combo has slightly different chemistry with one another. Batters will try and study pitchers’ cues, figuring out their tells as best they can.

“Studying up for next week?” Derek asks as he pushes into the waiting room, Melody behind him.

“Just trying not to watch the clock tick second by second,” I tell him as I take the bag of food from his hand.

“Let me know if you boys need anything; I think they’ll be done shorty.”

“Thanks, Melody,” I tell her before she leaves us to be.

“Any word?” Derek asks as he sits next to me.

“Nope, Melody checked in a little while ago and said their board just showed that the surgery had officially started. They told me it should only be an hour or so when they took her in. Based on that timeline, they should be done in the next ten, maybe fifteen minutes.”

We sit back, watching the game as I chow down on the tacos Derek brought me. I’ve just finished when Melody pushes the door open, a big smile on her face.

“She’s all done. Dr. Stonewall will be in shortly to give you his report. Once they have Riley settled into recovery, they’ll let you in to see her.”

“Thank you,” I breathe a big sigh of relief.

“Of course, and as always, if you need anything, just call.”

“Isn’t she just a ray of sunshine,” Derek says after Melody leaves the room.

“Definitely the grandmotherly type. Having her be the one to explain everything to me was calming. I would have lost my shit if they sent in some young nurse who wanted to try and flirt with me.”

“I can’t imagine that would have gone over very well with the hospital’s management. I’m sure they’re used to dealing with players and their families.”

“Probably. They were pretty good when Riley was here for Easton’s delivery.”

Dr. Stonewall pushes into the room, removing his scrub cap as he sits across from Derek and me. When he takes us in, a slight smile pulls at the corners of his lips, but I give him credit. He doesn’t comment that two of the star players from the Lightning are sitting in the same room as he is.

“Everything went according to plan. Her tube was fully ruptured when we got in, so we had to remove it. Her other tube looked healthy with no repercussions from this surgery. We did have to evacuate her uterus, which also showed signs of a gestational sac. I can’t confirm if it was remnants of the ectopic pregnancy or a second sac, but we couldn’t take any chances that excess tissue could cause your wife to become septic. We’ll admit her for a day or two to make sure no other issues arise, but otherwise, she’s doing well, and you can see her as soon as they get her moved into her room.”

“Do you know how far along she was?” I ask.

“Six, maybe seven weeks. Ectopic pregnancies present fairly early. With all the new restrictions put on us doctors by the legislatures, she was somewhat lucky her tube had already shown signs of bursting. We now can’t immediately treat ectopic pregnancies; the only treatment is to abort the pregnancy. It is utter bullshit, but that’s where we are in this post-Roe world.”

“So, you’re telling me that had my wife not already presented in the condition she did, you couldn’t have done anything to help her?” I ask, astonished.

“Yep. We must wait until a rupture, declining bloodwork, or no fetal heartbeat. All of those bring many more risks to the mother’s life.”

“That is bullshit.” Derek chimes in.

“The day Roe v. Wade was overturned was when people without medical degrees decided they knew more about treating patients than the doctors that go to school for years to get the required degrees to treat them. I wish people would wake up and realize more women will die because of these decisions. Medical care should be left up to the patient and doctor. No one else should get a say in the matter.”

“Completely agree,” I tell him honestly. “I can’t say I’m happy my wife had already suffered so much, but I’m damn glad we didn’t have to sit around and wait for her to get worse before you could step in and save her.”

“She’ll need to follow up with her OB-GYN in a few days. She’ll be sore and probably need extra help for the next week; otherwise, she should fully recover in the next few weeks. If you have any questions, here’s my card. You can call my office, and they’ll get a message to me.”

“Thank you for everything, Doc. Are you a baseball fan? I can send over some tickets for you and your family.”

“Already have box seats,” He holds his hand out for me to shake before moving to shake Derek’s.

“Thanks for being a loyal fan,” Derek tells him. “If you ever want a tour of the clubhouse, let one of us know. We’ll give it personally.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”.

It isn’t more than ten more minutes before Melody returns, ready to show us to Riley’s room. We enter quietly, finding her asleep on the bed. Blankets are tucked around her, and she looks like an angel. A monitor beeps quietly behind the bed as another machine makes a whooshing sound as fluids are pumped through her IV.

“Do you want me to stick around?” Derek asks.

“If you want, maybe until after she wakes up. That way, you can report to Jillian that you talked to her before returning.” I whisper to him, not wanting to wake her up.

“Good plan,” He finds a place to store the bag he brought for us.

We each take a seat on either side of her bed. I slip her hand into mine and bring my lips to the top of her hand. “I love you, baby,” I whisper against her skin.

A nurse enters the room, “Hi, I’m Lucy; I’ll be Riley’s nurse tonight,” she greets us. “Which one of you is Mr. Johnson?” She asks, looking between Derek and me.

“That’d be me, but you can call me JJ or Justin,” I tell her, “This is her brother, Derek.”

“Nice to meet you both; I just need to get some quick vitals. We’ve got her on some antibiotics to make sure no infections happen. She’s also getting some fluids to ensure she isn’t dehydrated.”

“Okay, should we expect her to wake up anytime soon?”

“Yep, I’m going to see if I can get her awake now. The sooner we get her up and walking around, the better off we are that no blood clots will form.”.

“Riley, I’m Lucy, your nurse. Can you wake up for me?” She asks as she rubs Riley’s shoulder. Her eyes slowly open up, taking in her surroundings. “How’s your pain?”

“Okay,” Riley says in a scratchy voice.

“Take a few sips of water; it will help with the dry throat from being intubated,” holds a cup with a straw to Riley’s lips. She does as instructed, then tries again with the talking.

“Did the surgery go okay?”

“Yes, the doctor said it went great, no issues other than the ectopic. We’ve got you on some fluids and antibiotics until they let you go home,” Lucy explains.

“And when will that be?”

“A day, maybe two. They want to ensure your pain is under control and no signs of infection pop up.”

“Okay,” she says, resting her head back on the bed.

“Once you feel up to it, we’d like to get you out of bed for a little walk down the hall.”

“I need to pee, so can we try now?”

“Sure, let me get your IV pole moved so it can come with you,” she tells her, then starts moving things around.

“Justin, can you come to this side and be her support?” Lucy asks.

I jump up, coming around to help her off the bed. We walk slowly to the bathroom. Since I know they need her walking, I don’t just sweep her into my arms to carry into the bathroom. I sling an arm around her, giving her a solid support until she finds her footing. I help adjust her hospital gown out of the way as she lowers herself slowly onto the toilet. Once she’s done her business, I help her up, stopping at the little sink so she can wash her hands off before we return to the bed.

“Good job; I’d like to see you out of bed one more time in the next hour; you can try walking down to the nurse’s station and back.”

“I’ll make sure it happens,” I assure her.

“If you need anything in the meantime, press the call button. If you’re hungry, we can order you a dinner tray, even though it’s past dinner time.”

“Thank you; I might take you up on that soon; I didn’t get to eat dinner tonight.” Riley states.

“Just let me know; it takes about thirty minutes once I call, so just keep that in mind.”

“Can you go ahead and put in the order then?” Riley asks.

“Sure can; anything specific you’d like?”

“Do they have soup or a baked potato?”

“Both, usually! I’ll request both. Anything else?”

“Not that I can think of, thanks.”

“No problem, rest some and then go for that walk.”

Lucy leaves the room any Riley gets comfortable on the bed.

“How are the kids?” She asks Derek.

“They’re good. I helped Jillian get everyone back to our place, then came over here. She packed you a bag,” he tells her, pointing to it across the room. “It probably has way more than you need, but she wanted to ensure all your bases were covered.”

“Thank you, that was so thoughtful of her.”

“Hey, it was somewhat my idea,” I interject, not wanting my sister-in-law to get all the damn credit.

“Calm down, big boy,” Riley pats my hand. “No one said it wasn’t.”

“I think I’m going to take off for the night. Call or text if you guys need anything, and don’t worry about the kids, we’ve got them until you’re home and settled.” Derek says as he stands from his seat.

“Thanks, Derek,” Riley tells her brother as she reaches out for him. He walks over to her hospital bed, leans over, hugs, and kisses her on the cheek.

“Glad to see you’re doing better.” He turns toward me, “Have you reached out to Coach yet?” He asks me as he offers his hand to shake. I take it, and he pulls me in for a hug.

“Not yet; I guess I should since I need to take the next few days as personal ones.”

“Want me to send him a heads-up message?”

“Naw, I’ll text him here, shortly.”

“Okay, let me know if that changes.”

“Thanks, man.”

“If the kids aren’t already asleep, can you FaceTime us so I can say goodnight?” Riley asks him before he steps out of her room.

“Sure can,” he assures her before leaving.

“Come lay with me,” Riley says once it’s just the two of us. She scoots over, making more room on the one side of her hospital bed. I probably won’t fit, but if my wife wants me next to her, I’ll make it work.

I slide into place on my side, wrapping my arms around her as best as I can. She sits up, motioning for me to lay flat on the bed, then proceeds to lay down with her head on my chest.

“Comfortable?”

“Yes, so much better now that I’m in your arms.”

I rub my hand up and down her back as I just hold her. I can feel her body as the emotions of today take over. My T-shirt quickly soaks from her tears. It breaks my fucking heart to see my wife in such distress.

“What can I do to help?”

“Just hold me.” She looks up at me with despair in her tear-filled eyes.

“The doctor came in after the surgery to give me his report. He told me we’re almost lucky you presented in the condition you did. Apparently, since the law was overturned, had you presented with only the early pains they wouldn’t have been able to do anything at that point. Isn’t that such bullshit?”

“Crazy to think, but that’s where we’re right now. I’m just thankful they only had to take one tube. I asked the anesthesiologist if I’d still be able to have kids, and she said many women go on to have babies after losing one tube.”

“Did you not know you were pregnant?”

“I didn’t know, I was contemplating taking a test tomorrow morning since my boobs have been sore the last couple of days. I’ve had a few of those lightheaded moments, along with two times I thought I was going to puke, but since my period has been so sporadic between nursing and birth control, I wasn’t sure if it was just my cycle trying to return.”

“The doctor said there was a slight chance you were pregnant with twins. They found a sac in your uterus during surgery. He said it was possibly part of the rupture, so they had to evacuate the uterus in case it was and could become septic, but there was also the chance it was a second sac.”

“Wow.”

“I know. Could you imagine twins?”

“It would make life crazy, but nothing we couldn’t handle.”

“I’d need to play for another few years to afford two more,” I smile.

“Please.” Riley deadpans as she looks up at me and rolls her eyes. She’s stopped crying, and I’ll take that as a win in this moment. “You could retire today, never work another day in your life, and we’d still have more money than we know what to do with.”

“You’re probably right, but I’d drive you insane, so let’s not talk about me retiring for at least a few more years.”

“That I can agree with,” she says and smiles at me. I lower my lips to hers in a gentle kiss.

“Ready to try walking to the nurse’s station and back?”

“I guess so,” she sighs.

Riley sits up and I slide out of bed. I help her, pulling the IV along as we do our first lap to the nurse’s station and back.

I’ve just got her settled back into the bed when someone pushes into the room, a food tray in their hands. They set it on the table that slides over the bed at the perfect height for Riley to sit up and eat from.

“Did you ever eat?” She asks as she takes a tentative spoonful of the soup.

“Yeah, Derek brought me some of the tacos from dinner to eat while you were still in the operating room.”

“Good, sorry to kill the easy night.”

“Riley,” I say her name to get her full attention. “Don’t ever apologize for something that was so far out of your control. I’m just thankful I was home to step in and get you to the hospital so quickly; I dread to think what would have happened if this had occurred yesterday while I was out of town. Would you have called for help quickly enough? Would that help have arrived quickly? Would we have the same outcome?”

“You can’t let the what ifs take over. I’d like to think I’d have called Jillian to help with the kids so I could get looked at. But thankfully, I didn’t have to make those decisions, and we weren’t put into the position of choosing whose life to save.”

“I’ll tell you this now; I’ll always choose to save your life. I don’t care what the fucking law says, if it came to going to jail because I told a doctor to terminate a pregnancy to save your life, then slap the cuffs on my wrists and take me away because your life is worth saving over a non-viable one.”

“I love you,” she motions for me to come closer. “Thank you for being my strength when I needed it most. I’m so glad I get to do life with you.”

“I love you so damn much.” I kiss her.

Knowing that I need to be gentle with her, I pull the chair back next to the bed, settling in by holding her hand and being her strength when she needs me the most.

Did you enjoy this bonus epilogue with Riley and Justin? You can read all about their love story in The Curve Ball. Or start at the beginning of The Indianapolis Lightning series with Derek and Jillian’s love story in The Perfect Pitch!

About the Author

Samantha Lind is a contemporary romance author. Having spent the first 27 years of her life in Alaska, she now calls the Mid-West home, where she lives with her husband and two sons. She enjoys spending time with her family, traveling, reading, watching hockey (Go Knights Go!), and listening to country music. You can connect with Samantha on her website, www.samanthalind.com.

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AN OCEAN AWAY

A KINGDOM OF THE WHITE SEA SHORT FEATURING SIDE CHARACTERS FROM THE CLAW AND THE CROWNED

SARAH M. CREDIT

LADY CLARISAN RHIAGAIN was the daughter of a king and the sister of a prince, but she was not now nor would she ever be, a princess. She’d accepted this with the same stoic determination she applied to all things, choosing to view the intentional slight as a gift from the gods and not a persistent reminder of her insignificance to the royal bloodline.

As she saw it, there were more gains than losses to this.

She was afforded respect as the king’s progeny but could mostly do as she pleased.

No one expected anything from her, though she’d enjoyed her informal role as her brother’s confidante.

There were no arranged marriages awaiting her—to the contrary, marrying her off to anyone created more problems than it solved and so, a maid she remained.

Well… a maid, perhaps but not a maiden.

Not anymore.

Not after her brother’s ill-fated trip to the Easterlands.

Not after the long, harrowing night in the arms of strong, sensitive Steward Francis Oakenwell.

Clarisan leaned against the cold panes and crossed her arms against the chill that had nothing at all to do with the noontide storm crashing against the isolated rocks of the tiny isle that was both home and a prison.

The father who had decided she wasn’t a princess was now dead, and her prince of a brother had followed far too quickly.

She was the only Rhiagain left on Duncarrow.

A royal bastard.

Her family’s tenuous hold on the kingdom they’d stolen, frayed with every passing day, and if Princess Adamina didn’t deliver the next king, it would snap altogether.

“Lady Clarisan?”

She’d missed the sound of her chamber door opening. Her attendant, Mina, stood wearing a look somewhere between befuddled and bemused.

“Yes?”

“I have a rather… peculiar message for you. One I almost didn’t deliver for fear it was a jest of some sort.”

“When have you ever heard a proper jest on Duncarrow?”

“My lady?”

Clarisan shook her head. “What’s the message?”

Mina inched in and after looking to make sure no one saw her, closed the door. She widened her eyes.

“Well?”

“There’s been a shipment from the Easterlands. Just arrived today.”

“And?” Ships arrived weekly from all over the kingdom. They’d all starve without the realm’s food and supplies.

The attendant nibbled her lip and sighed. “It seems… I feel as though I shouldn’t even say…”

“Say it or send someone who will.”

“One of the workers… he’s… well, he’s paid a handsome sum to have… to have this…” She rushed forward, dropped a note on the table next to Clarisan, and scampered back into place. Clarisan eyed her unfounded skittishness with annoyance. She wasn’t her cruel father or the icy dowager queen.

She lifted the note, still watching Mina. Flicked her eyes down long enough to read: The lyceum at the last turn of dusk. Come alone. F.

Clarisan whipped her head up, stunned. “Who gave this to you?” she demanded, shaking the letter so Mina couldn’t see the tremble in her hand.

“I… uh… the man himself, my lady. A dock worker came to retrieve me on the man’s command. I don’t know any seaman who could offer the kind of gold he offered us…”

He’s not a seaman. “As you took his gold, you understand…” Clarisan swallowed to take the edge off her voice. Her bare feet curled against the cool stones threatening to swallow her whole as she pushed away memories of Francis’s arms wrapped around her from behind while he skated his mouth along the length of her spine… that clipped sigh as he reached her tailbone. Everything after, including how he held her through one of the scariest nights of her life. I’ve never met anyone like you, Clarisan Rhiagain and will never again. What might our lives have been like, had we met under different circumstances? In another life? “You understand this… seaman has also bought your discretion with that gold?”

A flicker of fear passed across the young woman’s face. Clarisan fought the urge to reproach her for it. Mina had belonged to the queen, and the queen made displeasure a sport.

“Of course, my lady. I would have required no gold…”

Clarisan nodded. “Keep the gold and your secret. That will be all, Mina.”

Then the girl was gone, Clarisan threw the note in the fire, and her heart crumpled along with the words as they folded inward and then burned away.

FRANCIS OAKENWELL, known to most as Steward Oakenwell, and to his young son William as simply Pa, helped the men unload the remaining crates from the ship. He didn’t help because it was part of his disguise—a laborer named “Frank” had boarded with them in Whitechurch and would sail back with them at dawn—but because labor was satisfying. As the steward of Oak Hill, an inland high desert town in the Easterlands made up of roughnecks and castoffs from the Southerlands, he’d been raised to use his hands to help others, and he’d taught his son that same love.

There should have been more sons to teach and daughters, too, but then his wife had been taken by a swift disease, and Francis decided wanting more than what he had left was a temptation of fate he couldn’t afford.

Until clever, cunning Clarisan Rhiagain swept in and out of his life like a hurricane.

One passionate night had left him hollow and wanting.

And Francis discovered his days of wanting more weren’t behind him after all.

As he stacked the crates on the dock, preparing them for transport into the keep, he thought of all she’d lost since he’d last seen her. A father. A brother. Despite being the last living Rhiagain, Clarisan had nobody on the tiny, cursed isle in the White Sea, and it was that terrible thought that kept him parted from his sleep for months.

Would she even come to the lyceum?

Would she send a message of regret in her place?

Or worse: silence?

He couldn’t predict what she’d do… if that night had left her just as hollow, just as wanting.

Lust wasn’t strong enough to divide him in half so crudely.

But until he faced Clarisan once more and made her an offer, it would be easier for her to refuse than to take, he couldn’t afford to think of it as anything else.

Francis squinted into the last vestiges of the day’s sun and cleared his mind with the grueling satisfaction only hard work could provide.

CLARISAN WRAPPED the shawl tight as she stepped from the stones of the keep onto the windy, rocky valley of the Isle of Duncarrow. No one paid her more mind than compulsory nods or mumbling hellos. She was used to it and tonight, was grateful for it.

Whispers of a second storm howled across her flesh. A flash of Francis’s rough hands sweeping down her the backs of her arms, across her hips, and over her ass nearly sent her back into the keep, trembling with dread. This wasn’t who she was. She was proud of her self-control, how she didn’t need things the way other people needed things. Why was she even thinking about this man, all these months later? What was desire, if not weakness?

It’s not desire that has you heading away from the safety of the keep when everyone else is heading toward it.

The isle was small, large enough for the keep, a courtyard, and a lyceum that was far too big for the meager population. The nearest port in the kingdom was hours by ship, and it had taken a full day for Clarisan and her brother to reach the Easterlands, where she’d met this vexing man who’d been taking up way too much space in her thoughts and dreams.

She told herself it was curiosity carrying her forward… that he was simply the first man she’d met beyond her small world, and if not him, it would have been someone else. As the rain pelted under the cover of her hood, she convinced herself it could have been any man who had held her in his strong arms on the most terrifying night of her life… whispering his intent to protect her, to be with her through every last moment until the monster who had tried to assassinate her brother was dealt with.

Clarisan passed others scrambling to secure everything for the storm ahead. Some shot her inquisitive glances as she ran toward the lyceum, but most did nothing at all. She was liked by some, tolerated by others, but to most, she was a specter of Duncarrow. A part of the background as much as the stone and tapestries.

What would a noble man like Francis Oakenwell want with the discarded daughter?

There are dozens of men keeping your brother safe tonight. Let me do the same for you.

I’m fine.

No. He’d folded his muscled arms around her from behind. You’re not.

What if I don’t want comfort?

You think you don’t deserve it.

She hadn’t had an answer for that.

You and I, Clarisan, we know service. We have served men our entire lives and always will. Does that mean… can that not mean…

She’d been weak, she repeated in her head, when she’d let him sweep her onto the balcony of the sylvan stronghold… not herself at all when she’d buried her face in his neck and rode out every wave of pleasure he carried her on.

Clarisan had paid for that weakness, and so had he.

He just didn’t know it yet.

FRANCIS DIDN’T EVEN BOTHER with words. He’d never been very good with them anyway, so they’d only be wasted. Across the seconds it took to reach her, he watched Clarisan cycle through so many emotions he wished he could count them all and address them, one by one, to calm her.

When he crushed her into a firm embrace, she stiffened at first and then crumpled, instantly sobbing. He knelt and lifted her, carrying her into an open archway that led to the unused resting quarters for men brought to fight in the arena.

Francis found a stack of furs and arranged them on the floor with one hand before laying her down over them. She tried to hide her tears by angling her face away, but he dropped down beside her and brushed his mouth over hers to show her she was safe to feel with him, what no one else had allowed her to feel. He opened his eyes halfway through to see she was looking at him, too.

“Why… why are you here?” she asked. Her voice croaked as she recovered herself. He helped free her from her wet cloak before rising and draping it over a table to dry.

Francis inhaled a deep breath and braced himself against a chair before turning. “When I heard about the king… your brother… I took the next ship available.” He returned to the furs but remained standing. “I know how scared you were that night in Whitechurch, and I can only imagine how you feel now… now that he’s actually gone. Did they…”

“Find who killed him? Yes, they did. And the answer means nothing.” Clarisan fell back on her hands and glanced down and to the side. “Maybe everyone who loathes my family has proper cause. We did steal this crown. We had no right to it.”

He felt a surge of protectiveness settling in. “You didn’t do anything, Clarisan. You were only a little girl when your father sailed for the White Kingdom and claimed it. You’ve never had a say in any of this.”

“That doesn’t change who I am,” she said with a sound bordering between a sigh and a whimper. “It isn’t real to me yet. I can’t believe my little brother is gone. I was supposed to protect him, and I failed.”

“No.” Francis stepped forward. He tapped his sword hilt. “You have more guards than nobles on this wretched island. Where were they?”

Clarisan lowered her eyes to her hands, strung together over her lap. “Why are you here, Francis?”

“You shouldn’t be alone—”

“I’ve always been alone,” Clarisan snapped. She winced. “Why are you here?”

For the briefest of moments, Francis was struck with the sense he’d been a great fool. That whatever connection had lighted between them those long hours months ago had been born of trauma and fear, nothing more. That she must think he was no better than a lad with a crush.

But he hadn’t come to play games or hedge his truth. And though he didn’t know Clarisan very well at all, he knew her shrewd, practical heart would demand nothing less.

“Because…” Francis’s voice croaked. He tapped his throat to clear it. “Because every night since I watched you sail away has been longer and colder. Because… because seeing you on my all-too-brief visit to Duncarrow after only made that feeling take root and shape itself into something more permanent.” He dropped to his knees on the furs and sighed through the next words. “Because the night you came into my life it was forever changed, and I would never let someone I love suffer through such grief alone.”

Clarisan gaped at him through bleary eyes. Her reddish blonde hair caught the dim moonlight coming in through the lone window. She was both beautiful and terrifying, and as his breathing slowed and then momentarily stilled, he saw sitting before him the only Rhiagain worthy of a crown.

“You say that word…”

“I’ve known love before,” Francis said. He crawled toward her and settled in front of her. “I know how it feels, even if I lack the words to define it.”

Clarisan hung her head. She pulled her hands to her face and sobbed through her fingers. “You don’t even know me.”

“Don’t I?” Francis peeled her hands away, one by one. “For some, knowing another takes a lifetime. For others, a moment. Can you truly tell me I’ve imagined this, Clarisan? Can you say that with truth and not fear?”

Thunder split the earth outside. The roar of the sea rolled higher, creating a startling, deafening sensation. “I was with child,” she blurted. Her lower lip rolled in as her eyes flashed with distress. “Weeks after we’d returned to Duncarrow, I discovered…” She scrunched her face in agony. “I did what I had to do.”

Francis sagged with the weight of her confession. He gathered her hands in his as he reined his thoughts in. He should have come sooner. She needed him, and he’d wasted precious time brooding. “Clarisan…” He brought her hands to his mouth. “You’re right. You did what you had to do, love.”

“What?” She stiffened.

“The choice was yours to make, and you did what you had to do,” he said again, softer. “I only wish I could have held your hand through it. Or spirited you away from his cursed, lifeless pile of rocks sooner.”

“But you’re a father yourself…”

“My son is my life,” Francis agreed. “But he came to us right on time. What would have happened to you here, if anyone had discovered you were with child? Perhaps if I’d made you my wife—”

“Your wife?” Clarisan blinked through her confusion. “Why ever would you want to do something that foolish?”

Francis cradled her face in his hands and kissed her. “Would you believe I came to do that very thing?” He kissed her again. “You did so, so well for your brother. He couldn’t have asked for a better counselor. A better sister.” Another kiss. “And now he’s gone, my love. And there’s nothing here for you but more sorrow. I’ve come to…” He summoned the strength to make his offer. “Take you back to Oak Hill. To ask you to be my wife, and share whatever is left to our short, miserable lives together, so we can be, perhaps, just a little less miserable.” He smiled. “Happy, even.”

Clarisan laughed through tears. Her blue eyes sparkled in the dim room. “What an offer, Francis. How could anyone say no to an assured mediocre life, with the occasional side of happiness?”

“I would offer you euphoria, had I the power, Clarisan.” Francis grew serious. “Come away with me. I have a keep worthy of a princess, and a son who has been dying to meet the woman capable of putting unintentional smiles on his father’s face.”

Clarisan buried her own smile. “I’d very much like to meet him.”

Francis’s heart skipped. “You’ll come?”

But Clarisan shook her head. She wrapped her arms around herself with a hard, shuddering sob. “I think Princess Adamina may be with child. If she is, I… I can’t leave her.”

“She has—”

Clarisan reached forward and grabbed one of his hands in hers. “No one, Francis. She has no one here to look out for her best interests. What she has is a bevy of dukes vying for power, and a dowager queen who should have no hand in raising any future king or queen, ever again. I have to do this for my brother. I cannot leave his son or daughter’s life to chance.” She released him and closed her eyes. “I don’t know or care, whether this crown is worth saving. But his child? There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for them.”

Francis could see the turmoil that had been languishing within Clarisan since long before his arrival. It had defined her life, both diminishing it and at the same time provided it purpose. The princess that never was had become the cunning counselor of men of half her wit, but those days were behind her. Ahead was perhaps her most important duty yet.

Francis had been born into duty. It was one of the few things in life that required no explanation nor justification. He understood this above almost all else.

And so, he understood her.

He leaned forward and gathered her into his arms. “Then let us make tonight matter.”

She melted into him as though she’d been doing it her whole life, allowing him to ease her back onto the pelts. He fell over her with a low moan, an emergence of his trapped angst and frustration from his failed attempts to forget her. The rest was instinct, every kiss, every swipe of his palm across her soft flesh, every buck of her hips, and soundless partings of her mouth. He moved in her, and she drew him in like a secret, trapping him there until dusk turned to dark, turned to the orange hint of dawn.

The ship would be leaving soon. He’d let it leave without him, if not for his son. He’d forsake it all, if not for William.

He summoned every drop of his strength to put his clothes back on. To secure his sword as he watched her sleep, peaceful and dreaming.

Francis knelt and kissed her goodbye, before he could change his mind.

Sometime in the night, between the spaces what he now knew, knew was love, he’d made her another offer.

All he could do now was return home to the Easterlands.

To beseech the Guardians for patience he didn’t possess, paid for by the love he did.

“Until then, my love,” he whispered, and left.

FIFTEEN AND A HALF YEARS LATER

CLARISAN SLEPT through the entire voyage. She enjoyed sleep in a way she never had in her youth, but she was approaching her mid-forties and could no longer afford to let her anxieties carry her through long nights.

She’d sent no raven ahead of her arrival.

No word at all.

Yesterday had been King Farian’s fifteenth birthday, and at midnight she’d sailed for Briarhaven, the nearest port town to Oak Hill.

Francis would either be there or he wouldn’t, but she wasn’t going back to Duncarrow.

She’d done her duty. The king was now of age to rule without a regent governor. Clarisan had served as Farian’s chief counselor since his birth, protecting him from the devious political maneuvering of the other men on his council, teaching him how to do the same for himself when she was gone. His young life had been filled with stories of his late father, who had been a better man than the ones before him. Farian had everything he needed to be a good king. The rest was up to him now.

She was unsteady on her feet as the ship took over an hour to sidle into port. The morning sun was blinding, and she couldn’t see the docks or anything beyond. Perhaps there wasn’t anything to see. Her fear reminded her, men were creatures of lust, not love. Fifteen years was a long time for something so ephemeral to persist.

Clarisan held her breath as she accepted an unknown man’s hand on the way down the ramp. She shifted her shoulders and her back and reminded herself that, no matter who was or wasn’t waiting for her ahead, it was love for herself that pushed her to finally leave.

Still.

The years had been long.

As they’d slipped away, so had the denial.

She had loved Francis Oakenwell, and he’d loved her back.

Whether that still held true didn’t change the past.

Clarisan was still holding her breath when her boots hit the dock. She stumbled forward, but before she could regain her bearing, someone had done it for her.

She looked up into familiar eyes. His beard was graying, and there were now permanent lines where only smiles had caused them before, but he was the same now as he’d been all those years ago.

At his side stood a younger man who looked so much like the Francis of fifteen years ago that it was startling.

“You look surprised. Didn’t think I’d come?” Francis said with a soft laugh. His voice was a touch deeper, more grizzled, betraying the years. When he grinned, the creases by his eyes deepened. “I’m the one who made the offer.” He released her and exhaled with his whole body. “Clarisan. Clarisan. Clarisan.” Tears pooled in his eyes. “You are just as beautiful today as you’ve always been.”

Words failed her. All she could do was nod, hoping he understood all the things she didn’t know how to say, not then or now. The telltale signs of age only made her crave him more, selfishly wanting every minute they both had left, unwilling to squander a single one.

She turned to William, but he was his father’s son, and had her enveloped in a broad, warm hug before she could find the words.

“You’re home now, princess,” Francis said. He dabbed at his eyes and gathered them both forward. “Leave your fears in the sea. You won’t need them where we’re going.”

An Ocean Away was a bonus short story featuring side characters from the standalone fantasy romance novel, The Claw and the Crowned, releasing December 2022. Both stories are part of the broader Kingdom of the White Sea world, of which there are many stories to explore. Learn more or pick up some of the stories here.

About the Author

Sarah is the USA Today and International Bestselling Author of over forty contemporary and epic fantasy stories, and the creator of the Kingdom of the White Sea and Saga of Crimson & Clover universes.

Born a geek, Sarah spends her time crafting rich and multilayered worlds, obsessing over history, playing her retribution paladin (and sometimes destruction warlock), and settling provocative Tolkien debates, such as why the Great Eagles are not Gandalf’s personal taxi service. Passionate about travel, she’s been to over twenty countries collecting sparks of inspiration, and is always planning her next adventure.

Sarah and her husband live in a beautiful corner of SE Pennsylvania with their three tiny benevolent pug dictators.

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TAKE A CHANCE ON ME

SCARLETT COLE

CHAPTER ONE

WET FEBRUARY NIGHTS and a shift at her uncle’s pub were a gloomy combination, but twenty-four-year-old Violet Slater stuffed her feet into her boots and took a last look at herself in the mirror.

She messed with her fringe for a moment, flipping the strands to the sides, then brushing them back to the front, blunt and choppy. The fringe needed a quick chop. It hid her coffee-coloured eyes, but she didn’t have time.

Tossing on her bright red raincoat, she took one last glance around the apartment. Technically, it was her older brother Bast’s apartment, but he’d moved into a fancier place two streets over just a few weeks ago with his girlfriend, famous songstress, Indigo James. Now, he let Violet rent it for such a small pittance, it was embarrassing.

She wanted to stand on her own two feet, but Notting Hill rent was a killer, and his ground floor apartment was perfect. Her old roommates had a penchant for leaving dirty dishes in the sink for a world record-breaking period and assumed that the whole bathroom was self-cleaning.

It had taken her a while to get used to the idea she could make the place her own. Plants had grown in number, trailing from bookshelves, and spilling over the edge of tables. A large planter with an out-of-control cheese plant stood by the window, doing an effective job of blocking Nosy Nigel’s view from across the street. He was old and housebound, but also a bit of a perv.

Sooner or later, she’d need to either pay Bast full rent or move out. Squirrelling her salary and tips away was building a little nest egg for when it happened, but she wasn’t there yet.

She grabbed her purse and the Tupperware container she needed to drop off en route, and sprinted from her apartment. Rain battered her jacket as she hurried down the street. Mr. Yip stood in the doorway of the Chinese restaurant, and he waved as she dashed to the door to the apartment above.

“How is she?” he asked as Violet dipped underneath the awning.

“Meh. Not the best, Mr Yip,” Violet replied, slotting her key into the lock. “Just bringing Mum some dinner.”

“You’re a good girl, Vi. Swing by on your way home if you like. I’m open until midnight. I’ll give you some soup.”

She kissed his cool cheek. “You’re the best, Mr. Yip.”

Jogging up the stairs, she stopped at the first landing and let herself into the place she’d called home her entire life. “Hey, Mum. I brought you something.”

“I’m in the kitchen.” Her mum’s voice was strained. Violet hoped her mum wasn’t stretching herself too thin.

Barking ricocheted down the hallway as Inky, her mum’s Chihuahua, barrelled toward her. One day he might hide from the world beneath her mum’s bed, the next he would attack your ankles just for the hell of it. Bast was the only one who seemed to have Inky mastered. Probably some alpha dog bullshit. Still, it meant she didn’t need to walk the tulle-skirt wearing doggo. Bast had that privilege.

She shook off her coat and hung it on the hook just inside the doorway, and took the Tupperware in the direction of her mum’s voice. “What are you up to?”

Iris Slater looked down at the variety of watercolour paints, paintbrushes and jam jars filled with water. “I would have thought it was fairly obvious,” she said with a smile.

“Very funny. You know what I mean.” She looked good today. No scarf covering her bald head, a hint of colour in her cheeks. Violet could almost believe she was well and healthy, not holding on to the diagnosis of twelve months left made six months ago.

Her year, she called it. When she’d try to cram everything she’d ever wanted out of life into three hundred and sixty-five days.

Violet pulled out the chair next to her mother’s and looked at the farm scene coming to life on the page. “Since when did you paint?”

“Oh. Indigo came round yesterday to bring me lunch, and we had a great chat. She asked me if there was anything I wished I’d done that I still had to do.”

“She asked you that?” Violet’s initial thought was that it was a truly awful question to someone who was dying. Not that everyone wasn’t on their path to death, but her mum’s was more finite than most.

Iris glanced at her. “It was a good question.”

“What did you say?”

“Well, painting with watercolours was something I’d always thought I’d try one day and never did. So, Indigo showed up at my door this morning with all this. Turns out, I’m not a natural, but I am enjoying myself.”

Violet turned the canvas to look more carefully at the painting. “It’s lovely, Mum. I think you have more talent than you know. Was there anything else on your list?”

Iris smiled softly. “The main one was to see you happy and settled. I’m so glad I got to meet Indigo and see how happy Bast is with her. I want the same for you.”

“I’m settled and happy.” Violet’s shrug belied the surge of emotion that her mum wouldn’t be there for her wedding. Neither would her father, who had died suddenly, years earlier. Instead, it would be Bast walking her down the aisle, assuming she could find someone who wanted her and her tattoos and her multiple piercings. They’d have to be willing to accept her attitude was as caustic as fluoroantimonic acid before her first coffee in the morning.

“You know what I mean. But I’m not saying you should do what Bast did.”

Violet forced her cheeks to smile. “I promise I won’t do that.” Four months earlier, Bast had gone to find reclusive singer, Indigo James to convince her to sell him some rare vinyl she owned. She’d agreed to give him the vinyl if he agreed to be her fake boyfriend for an event she needed to attend in London. Somewhere along the way, they’d fallen in love.

“Good.”

“I’m spending the day with Indigo tomorrow, helping her with the auditions for her recording and touring band because Bast is working, and she’s worried it’s too much people-ing for her.”

“That’s lovely of you to help. Now go to work. You’re going to be late.”

Violet tapped the lid of the Tupperware container. “I made a ham and egg quiche, your favourite. I cut you a large slice. Figured you could eat it all or save half for tomorrow if you wanted.”

She hadn’t brought a large slice. It would only overwhelm her mum’s tiny appetite. Some days, Violet could barely stand the idea of seeing her mum because of the constant and painful reminder that she was fading. Leaving them piece by piece until there would be nothing left.

“That’s very thoughtful. Thank you. Now go before Uncle Brian gets mad.”

Ten minutes later, she burst through the door of the bustling London pub.

“You’re late,” her Uncle Brian growled. His bald head and jowly jawline reminded her of an English Bulldog. He wasn’t actually her uncle. He’d been her father’s best friend and their family’s rock.

“I’m always late, Uncle Brian. You know this, so don’t get snarky with me. Plus, I took Mum some dinner.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Good girl. Now get behind that bar.”

Tending bar had taught her three inviolable lessons. First, men only played the stupid game of hitting on girls they called “ugly” so they could actually hit on girls in their league without admitting it. Second, tips were always better the more drunk someone was. And third, men lied to get laid, all the time. The number of men she’d seen slide off their wedding ring before hitting on a girl was ridiculous.

She greeted Helen, the other bartender, and began serving drinks and wiping down the bar in between.

Several hours later, an attractive man in a drenched T-shirt that hugged his body perfectly took a seat at her end of the bar. He had chin-length wet brown hair, which she thought might be threaded with red or ginger given all the tones in his scruff. Sharp cheekbones and clear blue eyes gave off an honest vibe. And, man, what she wouldn’t give to run her fingertips down the ridges of the hard stomach beneath.

When she finally looked at his face again, she realised he was grinning. “No, go ahead, look for a little while longer,” he said.

Heat filled her cheeks at being caught. “Sorry, can I get you something?”

He ran his hand through his hair, and goddamn it, she couldn’t decide if it was the flex of his biceps or the extra stretch of the wet cotton that made her panties wet. “Dry clothes might be helpful,” he said finally.

“Unless you feel like wearing a bar towel, I’m out of options, but I could get you something to warm you up. Whiskey, maybe.”

He glanced at the taps that lined the bar. “I’ll take a pint of Guinness and a Balvenie, if you have it.”

Grateful for the opportunity to look away for a moment, she prepared his drinks, then placed them in front of him. “Want to pay up or start a tab?”

“Tab’s great.” He took a sip of the whiskey as if testing it.

Violet placed her elbows on the bar and leaned toward him. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

The man knocked the rest of the whiskey back. “I feel like a personal conversation requires introductions first.”

“Violet,” she said, offering him her hand.

He took it, shook it, then kept hold of it. “Cam.”

“Well, Cam. Why on earth are you in my bar wearing a soaked T-shirt in February?”

“Well, Violet. It could be that I’m staying at the hotel across the street and didn’t think it was raining quite so hard when I made the decision to jog over here. Or it could be because I wanted there to be less clothes for you to take off me later. Which do you think it is?”

CHAPTER TWO

CAM ROBERTSON COULDN’T BELIEVE his idiotic line had worked on the utterly captivating bartender, Violet. With her white and grey hair in a choppy bob off-setting her dark eyes, and her lithe frame clad in a black vest and jeans that hugged her hips, she was stunning. Partnered with the ink, obviously done by an incredibly talented tattoo artist, she was as close to perfection as he’d ever seen.

Still, here she was, holding his hand, following him back to his hotel room after taking precautions to make sure someone knew where she was going and who she was going with.

They’d flirted.

A lot.

The kind of flirting that got a guy hot under the collar. Or hard beneath the denim.

And she hadn’t been immune. He’d tried to focus on her eyes, but those damn perky nipples beneath her vest had distracted him a time or two.

He’d checked an hour before closing that he wasn’t misreading the signals. Should I be leaving on my own now, or waiting for you to finish your shift so you can come with me?

She’d cheekily told him she’d figured it would take about five seconds to take his T-shirt off if he didn’t distract her.

He clicked the door open, holding it wide for her to step beneath his arm.

When it snicked shut behind them, a streetlight outside the economy hotel window illuminated the room. He wished they were somewhere fancier, but he was broke and chasing a big break that would fix everything. Fix all his family’s worries.

“Want to set a timer?” Violet asked. “Five seconds, we said, right?”

Cam grinned and cupped her cheeks. “Sounds like a waste of five seconds.”

When his lips met hers, he was so stunned he forgot to move them. Warm. Soft. A taste of whiskey due to the shot she’d poured them both before they left.

Perfection.

It took him a second to land back in his own body and kiss her properly. Backing her up against the wall, he took one of her hands in his and raised it above her head. He guessed she was six inches shorter than his own six feet, but their bodies lined up perfectly. Firm breasts pressed up against his chest, his dick, getting harder by the second, pushed against her stomach.

Violet’s cool hand slid beneath his T-shirt, running them over abs he worked hard to maintain. He let go of her for a moment to slide her red raincoat off her shoulders, unravel the scarf, and tug the hoodie over her head. “You know, Violet. If you’d just run to the hotel in your tank top, we could be naked by now.”

Her laughter made him smile. “But where would the fun in that be? Isn’t the best bit unwrapping a present when you get one?”

Cam slipped his hand around the back of her neck. “Absolutely.”

“So less talking, then, yeah?”

His laughter was muffled against her lips as he gripped the hem of her tank and pulled it over her head. “Black lace? I like it, but it has to go.” With a quick flip of the hooks, he slid the straps from her shoulders. “Jesus, Vi. You’re beautiful.” He cupped her breasts before he leaned forward to suck a rosy, erect nipple into his mouth.

Her fingers gripped his hair and held him in place as he suckled. Hips bucked against him as he did so, searching for something more.

He felt the same. Violet gripped the hem of his T-shirt, and he stopped long enough to let her pull it over his head. As she did, he whipped his belt off his jeans and dropped it to the floor.

“Can we just strip and get to the good part?” Violet asked.

“I’ll race you,” Cam said, toeing off his trainers.

“Not fair. I’m in boots,” Violet said as she bent over to unlace her shoes. He couldn’t help but stop what he was doing to rub his hands over the pert cheeks of her ass, sliding one palm between her legs to cup her from behind.

“God, Cam,” she groaned, standing up straight. Her hands went straight to her tits. He couldn’t see exactly what she was doing but the silhouette of her back and the movement of her hands was hot as fuck. He stood behind her and gripped her pussy, pulling her closer to him so he could see over her shoulder and, sure enough, she was tugging on her nipples.

“My favourite kind of hook-up is one where the woman is active in getting what she wants,” he said close to her ear. He removed his hand from between her legs and placed his palms over her hands, kneading her breasts firmly.

“My favourite kind is one where the guy doesn’t distract me while I’m getting naked.”

“Really?” he asked, unzipping her jeans and sliding his hands beneath the lace of her underwear. When he reached her lips, she was drenched. Gently, he eased his way to her opening and pressed his finger into her.

“Cam,” she groaned. His dick nestled between her cheeks as she ground against him.

He slid his other hand around her ribs, holding her tightly to him as he picked up pace. Three thrusts inside her, then circling her clit before pressing home again. “So wet. I gotta taste it.”

When his fingers reached his lips, he couldn’t believe the musky sweetness. “Fucking jeans,” he muttered, tossing Violet onto the bed before tugging her jeans down over her hips, panties and all. Within seconds, he was kneeling with his face lined up with her pussy.

“Please,” Violet gasped.

She was close. He’d felt it when he’d fingered her. His dick ached, eager to join the party, but he wasn’t going to miss the opportunity of making her come with his tongue, first. Violet bent her knees and placed her feet on his shoulders. The pressure felt good. She tasted delicious.

With her fingers back in his hair, tugging hard, she chased the edge.

Cam sucked hard on her clit as his fingers sought out that soft place inside that would hopefully make her get off. It took less than a minute to prove him right.

“God. Yes. There, Cam. Please,” she cried as her body lost its sense of timing and rhythm.

He didn’t lose his.

As a musician, he prided himself on his ability to maintain both. And he knew the first rule of great sex was if a woman cried out that you were doing exactly what she needed to get off, you didn’t change it.

When she came, moments later, he savoured everything she gave him.

He lowered her down as gently as he could given the urgent need to fuck her pulsed through him like a racing heartbeat. Finally, he stood and unzipped his jeans. Gathering his wallet, he pulled the condom he kept in it free and tossed it on the bed next to her, before stripping the rest of his clothes.

Violet lay on the bed, her body casting shadows in the lamplight. Her chest flushed a mottled red flushed as her breathing raced.

Cam gathered her into his arms and relocated her so her head lay on the pillow, moving her arm so he could kiss her. “You still okay?” he asked.

Violet opened her eyes. “I will be if you put that condom on and fuck me with as much skill as you give oral.”

He grinned as he unwrapped the condom and pulled it on. “You can give me scores for both when we’re done, and we’ll see how I did.”

Positioning himself between her legs, he eased into her, revelling in how wet she was. “Fuck, Vi,” he groaned as she opened to him.

He eased out again and thrust back in until he was fully seated.

“You’re so big,” Vi gasped.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he said, before placing his lips to hers. His dick pulsed, but he wanted to give her time to adjust to him for a second. He was big, so he’d been told, and Violet squeezed him so tight that every ounce of his control was being tested.

Her arms slipped around his neck as she returned his kiss, taking the two of them deeper until her hips began to move beneath him.

Great sex was like writing the perfect song. Knowing when to flourish, versus when to keep it simple. Knowing when to speed it up or when to slow it down. And he liked to think he was adept at such things. He coiled his hips and thrust back into her. Slow and deep, gaining momentum, changing angle until she cried out.

“You going to come again, babe?” he asked.

“I want to,” she gasped, pressing her hands onto his lower back so she could grind against him. He changed his strokes to give her more of what she needed.

Her eyes went wide. “Oh, God. Cam.”

“Come for me, Vi. Because it’s hot as fuck when you do.”

He kept doing exactly what he’d been doing until he felt her fall apart, her wet warmth squeezing him for everything he had. Every ounce of focus was on her, what she needed, even though his own orgasm was starting. His balls tightened; a shock of energy hammered his lower spine. When he felt her tremors had died enough, he thrust into her with almost reckless abandon. Hard and fast, until his own orgasm barrelled down his back and he came with an almost blinding flash of ecstasy.

“Vi,” he grunted. He gave in to the sensations in his body and forgot everything else important to him in his life.

He could escape the responsibilities. Escape the routine.

And just be in the moment with the utterly beautiful woman beneath.

He kissed her tenderly as he shuddered again.

“Thank you,” he whispered, knowing full well just how much he’d needed her tonight.

CHAPTER THREE

VIOLET WOKE the following morning to an empty hotel bed. For a moment, she thought Cam had left, but then she heard the shower in the bathroom. She debated getting up to join him, but given it was the morning after the night before, new rules might apply.

And the guy deserved his privacy if he wanted it.

Because, boy, had he worked her out and over last night.

After the first time, they’d fallen asleep in a huddled mess. They’d woken at the same time a few hours later. He’d been hungry, she’d been his snack. He’d pulled on clothes to go find condoms from the vending machine. Violet grinned as she remembered the way he’d arranged her on her knees and taken her hard. The third and final time had been as the sun cracked the Notting Hill skyline, a slow coupling with her on her side and his thigh between hers.

Each had been more intimate than the last.

Finally, she threw back the duvet and sorted through the debris of clothes. A sock here, her panties there. Due to the crumpled pile her jeans had been left in, they were still a little damp from the rain, which was grim, but given she only lived a few streets away, it would be easy enough to hurry home to change.

Secretly, she hoped Cam would want to see her again. Perhaps go for breakfast together. She’d liked his humour and liked his tongue even better.

As she debated pulling on her clothes or waiting for Cam to leave the shower, his phone flashed on the desk, and she couldn’t help but glance at it.

Eliza: Good luck with Indigo James. I love her. I love you. Well done for finding a way in.

Wait, he was here for the audition?

Violet violently spun to look at the bathroom door. Was he married? In a relationship? Had he used her to get to her soon-to-be sister-in-law?

Had she missed a wedding ring or something? She could tell the guys who slipped their wedding ring off just before they hit on her. You could see the tan line or the indentation. But she’d been blinded by Cam’s pretty face and hard body.

Shit.

Well, Eliza could have him. She was no homewrecker. And she wouldn’t be his in. Quickly, she tugged on her clothes, the sweetness of the previous evening turning sour. The dampness of the jeans no longer mattered. Neither did panties or socks or her bra as she crammed them into her coat pocket. The faster she dressed, the faster she could leave.

She didn’t stop rushing until she was out of the hotel and home beneath the scalding hot shower. It pounded on her head as she tried to scrub the memory of his fingers on her skin and the scent of him from her body.

It was impossible. He’d left an indelible mark on her.

“Asshole,” she muttered out loud.

She huffed, but then let the feeling of sadness out. Cam had been lovely. Fun. Different. He’d not judged her for working behind a bar. He hadn’t asked difficult questions about her mum. The dreaded C-word hadn’t raised its head.

Instead, her worries had been abandoned.

Had that been why she’d not asked Cam about a girlfriend? Had she simply not wanted to know? Had she chased her own escape at the expense of someone else’s happiness?

Two hours later, after a nap and applying a “go-fuck-yourself” level of make-up given she’d see Cam later, she walked to the tattoo studio her brother owned to pick up Indigo.

“Hey, Sis.” Bast glanced up and down her, a puzzled look on his face. “Why are you dressed up so fancy?”

“If wearing make-up and a new pair of jeans is fancy, I must be setting a really low bar on a normal day.”

Bast laughed. “Nah. Didn’t mean it like that. You look good is all. Thanks for looking out for Indigo today, yeah?”

Indigo had been one of the hottest singer-songwriters in the world. Her ground-breaking feminist album, Lies in Winter, had won a Grammy. But then a stalker had threatened her safety and broken into her home while she was in it. While she was gaining confidence around groups of people, she still found it hard.

“My pleasure. And she promised to throw in free donuts and all the coffee I can drink.”

“Well, I’ll throw in three hours of free ink too. I got a cancellation for next Tuesday if you want it.”

“Yay. Can we do my hand tattoo finally?”

Bast shrugged. “Whatever you want.”

“Nice.”

Indigo stepped out of the toilet at the back of the studio. Her curls were up in a messy bun, and she wore a thick duster-length cardigan over jeans. “Hey, Violet. You look lovely but you didn’t need to dress up for me.”

Violet looked down at her new jeans that hugged her bum and the soft pale pink sweater her mum had got her last birthday. “I don’t know why everyone thinks I’m dressed up.”

“It’s the make-up. It’s flawless.” Indigo wrapped her arms around Bast’s waist. “I’ll call you when we’re done.”

Bast kissed Indigo, hot enough to make Violet envious as she looked away to give them a moment of privacy. The memory of Cam kissing her up against the wall, of pinning her hand above her head, jolted through her, setting parts of her on fire that should just cool the heck down.

She was envious of the easy way Bast and Indigo showed their affection for each other. Secretly, she craved it for herself.

“Let’s go,” Violet said.

Bast let go of Indigo and kissed the top of her head. “Stay out of trouble, girls.”

“Don’t we always?” Violet said.

For hours later, Violet’s ears were ringing. Even though the short list had been narrowed down thanks to the initial video submission process, the final five candidates in each instrument had been invited to London to play live for Indigo, who had insisted on building her own band.

The drummers had auditioned first and the pick had been easy, even to Violet’s untrained ears. A young drummer called Ruby, which had made one of the bass guitarists ask if he should change his name to a colour to boost his chances.

As it was, he didn’t need any boosting, because Malik was clearly the most skilled bass player there was, with flair and execution for days.

“Right,” Indigo said, sitting back down next to Violet after their break. “Ready for the electric guitars?”

Violet shuffled in her seat. “I’m ready to get out of this chair.” A part of her wanted to get up and leave. Every time a new set of musicians had been introduced, she’d been ready to see Cam’s face because she had no idea what instrument he played. And each time, she’d been as relieved as she’d been disappointed that he hadn’t been in the line-up. Relieved, because she never wanted to see him again. Disappointed because she wanted to see his face the moment he realised his little ploy to sleep with her had not given him the in he’d expected.

Yet, despite it all, she’d still not told Indigo what had happened. And she couldn’t explain why. She certainly didn’t want Indigo to hire a charlatan. Someone untrustworthy wasn’t good. But something was holding her back. A deep-rooted faith that Cam couldn’t be the asshole she was imagining, despite the proof she’d seen with her own eyes.

“Indie. There’s something I need to tell you about one of the—”

“Indigo. Here are the five guitarists. Lizzie, Juniper, Phil, Byron, and Cam,” the audition co-ordinator said.

Just the sound of his name made her heart race.

Cam looked even better than she remembered. He wore her catnip. A black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal his delicious ink and strong arms that had held her body. When he saw her, he stepped in her direction.

“Vi?” The question was strong in the two letters. Was he really going to pretend he didn’t know she was pseudo-related to Indigo? Or was his surprise linked to the fact he’d stepped out of the shower to find the room empty?

There was a hint of hurt on his face.

Goddamnit. She did not need to know why it was there.

She quickly turned to face Indigo, who raised an eyebrow at her in return. “You want them to set up and play, right?” Violet said.

Indigo squinted at her, glanced at Cam, and Violet could see the moment Indigo began to put the pieces together. “Fine, yes. Great to see you all. Take a minute to set up your equipment,” she said before spinning in her seat. “Tell me,” she hissed.

Violet glanced in Cam’s direction. He was still looking at her, but quickly turned away to get his guitar out of its case. How had she not seen it in his hotel room? Unless he’d stored it in the wardrobe or something.

Indigo tugged on her arm. “Why is my current number one pick looking at you like that?”

“He’s your number one?” Violet asked, feeling a little lightheaded.

“Yes. Why do you look like you are about to throw up?”

Violet placed her lips near Indigo’s ear and whispered, “I had a one-night stand with him last night. He came into the pub. It was amazing. Honestly, I thought I was right in the middle of a love at first sight encounter. Then, this morning I saw a text on his phone from a woman called Eliza saying how much she loved you and loved him and was glad he’d found a way in. He used me, Indigo.”

Indigo huffed out a breath. “Shit. That changes things.”

CHAPTER FOUR

CAM SLUNG his guitar strap over his head and took another deep breath in a futile attempt to get his racing heart to slow.

When he’d stepped out of the shower that morning, hoping to persuade Violet to let him take her out to breakfast where he intended to persuade her to make the long-distance thing work, he’d been stunned to find she’d bolted.

He’d gone back through every glorious minute they’d spent together. And not just in bed. But in the bar. When they’d teased each other. She’d made him laugh, something that had been tough recently. They’d clicked. And while he’d never admit to believing in love at first sight, he’d probably received his first and final taste of it.

There wasn’t any reason he could fathom why she’d disappeared without so much as a goodbye, or why she looked at him the way she did now. Unless she’d been playing him all along. But somehow, he couldn’t see it. A connection that real and instantaneous couldn’t be faked, could it?

To see her sitting next to Indigo James, the woman he needed to impress more than anyone else on the planet, was a shock that had rocked him to the core. Indigo was an attractive woman, but Violet looked ethereal.

But then she’d begun to whisper, her face in a grimace. And Indigo looked shocked by what she’d heard. And now he had to play for the two of them, to tap into his soul to bring forth the best music he was capable of. All the while wondering what on earth he’d done to make her look so…cold.

So, he’d gone outside with the others and waited while the first four auditioned. Of course, he was up last.

Eliza would expect him to play his best, not that she had any tangible concept of what his best was. He could strum a single note over and over and she’d still clap for him. Nothing he could do could diminish the way she looked at him with awe. So, today, he’d pretend Indigo and Violet weren’t looking at him with cool gazes and pretend it was Eliza’s sweet face in the audience.

“You ready, Cam?” Indigo asked.

“Sure. Can I just say what a privilege it is to simply be here with you, Indigo? Lies in Winter inspired my love of music, so it’s awesome to get to be here to play for you.”

Indigo smiled, losing some of the coldness she’d had earlier. “Thanks, Cam. That’s great to hear.”

He placed his fingertips on the frets and his thumb and forefinger on the strings and allowed himself to slip back to a time and place when Indigo’s lyrics had helped him. When his thumb plucked the first note, he was fully in the moment, playing the medley of each song on the album, but played in a different style. Blues, rock, indie folk, punk. He glanced up to find Violet’s eyes narrowed on him, and Indigo nodding her head to the beat. He’d tried to think of a way to show his range, to demonstrate how effective he could be in helping with new arrangements for the tour.

When the last note vibrated through the air, he took a breath, and held his guitar until the note died. Then, he swung it over his shoulder to face Indigo.

He was glad he was the last person in the room, he was happy there was a huge grin on Indigo’s face, but he looked at Violet, who still looked disappointed, and wondered why his playing hadn’t moved her at all. He saw the minute she looked at Indigo and saw how excited Indigo was.

“I need to go,” Violet said, whipping her red raincoat from the back of the chair and heading to the door. “I’m sorry, Indie,” she yelled over her shoulder.

Cam started to go after her, took four steps toward the door, then realised he couldn’t walk out on this opportunity. Eliza needed him to land it.

“Cam, wait.”

Indigo placed her hand out in front of him, urging him to stop. The door slammed.

“Shit. I need her number. Would you give it to me, please, Indigo? If I give you mine to get her to call me, I’m guessing she won’t ever dial it.”

“If it was a question of landing this gig or making things right with Violet, what would you do?”

“I would…” Shit. He needed this gig to make good on his promise to Eliza. This was a big deal. But he’d put the hurt in Violet’s eyes, and he needed to know why. “I don’t know what I did to hurt her.”

Indigo sighed. “Being on the road is tough. Are you married, Cam? Have a girlfriend?”

“If only I had time for one. But I don’t. Was kind of hoping Violet would accept the position.”

“You’re single?”

Cam raised an eyebrow. “I am. But does Violet think I’m not?”

“If you can convince Violet of why you should be trusted on this tour, I’m in. Because, Cam, you are one of the most talented guitarists I’ve ever heard and would love to have you join me. And I want the session musicians I use for the album to join me on the road.”

His heart raced at her words. He had the shot of a lifetime. “I’m in. You want to clue me in to why she thinks I’m in a relationship?”

Indigo shook her head. “Nope.”

“You want to give me her phone number?”

Indigo grinned. “Nope.”

“You’re not being a lot of help, Indigo.”

Now, she laughed. “I’m being more helpful than you know. But I will say this. She loves coffee. And you already know where she works.”

He glanced down at the coffee cup on the table and immediately recognised it. He’d grabbed breakfast at the boutique coffee shop near the hotel that morning. “She lives in Notting Hill?”

Indigo mimed zipping her lips closed and throwing away the key.

“Urgh.” He tugged his hands through the ends of his hair. “I hope you’re more insightful than this when we’re recording.”

“I like your confidence.”

“Why does her word mean so much to you? Why are you protecting her?”

Indigo stood and slipped on her cardigan. “She’s going to be my sister-in-law at the end of the month. I’m marrying her brother.”

Shit. That explained why Violet was there. “I need to go find her.” He began stuffing his equipment into his case.

“Tell the guitarists I need to sleep on it, that it was a tough call, and that I’ll make a decision in the next twenty-four hours,” Indigo said to the audition coordinator. “And, Cam. Where are you staying?”

Cam looked up from packing his guitar up. “Shit, I don’t have anywhere to stay. I’m supposed to be driving back to Brighton after this. Never mind, I’ll sleep in my car if I have to.”

Indigo scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to him. “It’s my phone number. If you don’t find her or have anywhere to sleep tonight, let me know.”

“Thanks, Indigo.”

He sprinted out of the rehearsal space as best he could with all his gear, trying to get his bearings. London was confusing as fuck, and he didn’t really know his way around. He jogged to his car, dodging dawdlers and prams and teens walking four-wide across the pavement.

Once he’d packed up his gear in the boot, he searched the name of the coffee shop and put the details into his sat nav. Before long, he was crawling through London, regretting his life choices in not taking the underground. When he pulled up in Notting Hill, he slammed his car into the first available spot he could find.

He ran past the bookshop that had appeared in the Notting Hill movie and made a note that he should come back and take a picture for Eliza later.

When he pushed the coffee shop door open and scanned the place, he was crushed to realise Violet wasn’t there. Frustrated, he stepped back outside and ran his hand through his hair.

Wait, hadn’t Indigo said Violet was going to be her sister-in-law? He put Indigo’s name into a search engine with the word boyfriend after it. Sebastian ‘Bast’ Slater. Tattoo artist. The map showed his studio to be two streets over.

He jogged to the address and pushed the door open. “Who’s Sebastian?” he asked.

All eyes turned to him, but only one man stood up. Tall, well-built, covered in ink. By the tattoo of the person he’d been working on, it was why all of Violet’s ink was so good.

“I’m Bast.”

“Have you seen Violet in the last half hour?”

That got his attention, he stepped forward. “Why? Did something happen?”

Cam shook his head. “Indigo told me to find her. Fuck, it’s a long story.”

“She’s not with Indigo anymore?” Bast pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialled someone.

“Indigo’s fine. I left her at the audition space. It’s just—”

Bast put his hand up. “Hey, Babe. You okay?”

There was a pause.

“Why is there a guy in here hunting down my sister?”

Bast scanned Cam up and down, a frown on his face. “He did what?”

Shit. Meeting the family was not on the cards for today, and he was running out of time. Nothing said, “Hey, I fucked your sister last night and I’d really like to do it again because I really liked her,” than hunting her down through her brother.

“Okay, Sweetheart. You stay put. I’ll come pick you up, yeah?” He hung up the phone.

“Cam,” he said, glaring at him. “Three questions and then you can go. Wrong answers and I’m gonna knock you into next week. Did you use my sister to influence Indie?”

“What? No. I had no clue who she was.” He took a step back just in case, though. They were the same size, and it would be a fair fight between him and Bast, but brawling was the last thing on his mind. “And listen, mate. We both use our hands for our jobs. No fighting, yeah?”

Bast didn’t budge. Simply folded his arms. “Are you in a relationship with anyone else?”

“No. Why do you all think that? Is that what Violet thinks?”

“And finally. You want my sister for tonight or for a little while so you can figure out if you’re heading somewhere?”

Cam tugged his hand through his hair. “Of course it’s the latter or I wouldn’t be fronting up to her brother the night after I slept with her.”

“More information than I needed, mate.”

“When I drove in for the audition yesterday, this is not how I thought I would end up having to prove myself. Normally, you just play the fucking guitar, then leave.”

Bast smirked. “We’re not a normal family. Convince my sister of your answer to those three questions and I’ll welcome you to the family.” He opened his phone again and dialled. “Vi. Sweetheart. Where you at?”

Cam’s heart raced in his chest. This was the weirdest family.

“No. Indie said you knew some guy at the audition. You cool with him?”

Bast listened and his face softened, giving Cam hope.

“Alright. As long as you’re okay.” He huffed a laugh. “Yeah, probably more detail than I needed. We’re out of milk. Fancy grabbing some for me and bringing it over…Thanks, Sweetheart.”

Bast hung up the phone. “She’ll be here in five.”

“You’re helping me find her.”

Bast grinned. “Indigo said she got good vibes. Vi seemed to like you, but you hurt her. You hurt her more, I’ll tattoo something fucking awful on your face in your sleep.”

Cam offered his hand. “Cam Robertson.”

“Bast Slater. Don’t fuck this up.”

CHAPTER FIVE

VIOLET PUSHED the tattoo studio door with one hand while managing to hold on to two large containers of milk. Watching so she didn’t trip over the step, she didn’t see the person walking towards her until she almost smushed her face into his chest.

“Jesus. I’m so sorry,” she said, looking up to see Cam’s face. “It’s you.”

Cam grinned. “It is. And you’re coming with me.” He took the milk from her hand and passed it to her brother.

“You traitorous little shit,” she muttered around Cam.

Bast shrugged. “Seems like there’s unfinished business between you guys.”

“And Indigo won’t give me the job unless I convince you that I should get it. Which is quite possibly the most fucked up reference I ever needed to get.”

She stepped out of Cam’s reach. “Maybe you should convince your girlfriend or wife or whatever instead.”

“Okay. I’m done with all the questions about my marital status. Why does everyone think I’m in a relationship?”

Violet’s rage grew taller than she was. “Ask Eliza.”

Cam’s jaw dropped. “Eliza? How do you know about her?”

“Because I saw the message. How she loves you and loves Indigo and thinks you’re clever for using me to find a way in.”

Cam tugged his hand through his hair. “You couldn’t have got this more wrong.”

“Prove it.”

“It’s not true.”

“So you say.”

“If you won’t take my word, let me show you. Let’s go.”

Cam took her arm and led her to the door. “You’re just going to let him kidnap me?” she yelled at her brother.

Bast shrugged. “Didn’t love you all that much anyway.”

Violet’s jaw dropped.

“Kidding,” Bast said. “I know where you’re going. Cam told me. Have fun.” He waved in her direction.

“Urgh. I hate my brother. And this better not be a waste of time, Cam. I already feel that way about last night.”

Cam stopped, turning to brush his thumbs along her cheeks in a way that made her feel cherished. She certainly didn’t want to feel that way with him, so she shoved him away.

“It was the best night of my life,” he said earnestly. “One you and I are going to spend the rest of our lives topping.”

Shivers whispered through her. She wanted it to be true, but her fury and resentment came from his dishonesty.

He gripped her biceps. “I’m not going to hurt you, Vi. I promise. I’m going to make this right, yeah? Just trust me for a few hours longer.”

“Fine,” she huffed. The fact Bast knew where she was going made her feel safe. And she wanted to trust Cam. Without the message appearing on his phone, she would have wanted to spend more time with him.

They climbed into his car, and it took a while for Violet to realise they were heading out of London, towards the south coast of England. She sulked, turning her back on him with her eyes closed. But she listened as he sang along to the songs on the radio. His voice was so soothing, and it would complement Indigo’s perfectly.

He deserved this gig, no matter what her personal opinion of him was, because he was simply outrageously talented. But she wasn’t going to tell him.

Two hours later, he pulled up outside a row of townhouses on the outskirts of Brighton. “Come on,” he said, opening his car door. “There’s someone you need to meet.”

The ride had given her pause for thought. Bast would never have let her walk into a situation where she was at risk. If he’d thought for one second that Cam was taking her to meet a wife or girlfriend, he would have kicked Cam out of his tattoo studio faster than the guy could strum a note on his guitar.

When she stepped out onto the pavement, he held out his hand to her. Begrudgingly, she took it. When he led her to the doors of the Tesco Express, Violet was confused. “We’re getting snacks?”

Cam laughed. “No. But be ready.”

“For what?”

“CAAAMMMM.” The scream of Cam’s name came from somewhere down the first aisle, and a young woman of about twenty-five ran towards him. “You’re back. I love you. You’re back.”

Cam hugged the woman with Down syndrome tightly. “Ellie, I want you to meet my friend, Violet. Violet, I want you to meet my sister, Eliza.”

“Hi, Violet,” Eliza said quickly before turning back to her brother. “Did you see her? Do you get to play with her?”

Cam grinned. “I did see her. I even spoke to her. I won’t know about the job until tomorrow. Tell Violet who your favourite singer in the world is.”

Violet knew the answer before Eliza could answer. Indigo.

Eliza jigged from foot to foot with a wide smile on her face. “It’s Indigo James. I love her. More than I love Cam.”

How had Violet forgotten how amazing Cam’s laugh was? “I like Indigo James too,” she said.

Cam glanced up and waved at someone Violet couldn’t see. “You need to get back to work. I’ll see you for dinner tomorrow, yeah?”

“I love you, Cam.”

He kissed her forehead. “Love you too, Ellie.”

They stepped outside into the gloomy February grey skies, but Cam didn’t say a word. He simply took her hand and led them back to his car.

“I’m sorry for jumping to a really big conclusion,” she said finally. “Eliza’s lovely.”

Cam turned her so her back leaned against the car. “She is. Less scary than Bast as siblings go.”

Violet laughed. “He didn’t threaten you, did he?”

Cam shrugged. “Maybe. It would have been a fair fight. The only thing Eliza would do to you is hug you to death. She has her heart set on moving out of Mum and Dad’s place.”

“She has Down syndrome. Can she do that?”

“Ellie has mosaicism, Mosaic Down Syndrome. The rarest of the three forms. She doesn’t have the extra chromosome in all her cells, just some. She holds down a job stocking the produce at Tesco. She travels to and from work on the bus. She’s capable and wants her independence. Just needs a little extra care from us. Which is why I need this gig. I want to buy a place, two stories, so I can convert it into two flats. One for her, one for me. I think she’ll thrive on her own, but Mum can stay at my place with her when I’m on tour if she still needs assistance. I currently share with two friends, saving all I can from music and personal training.”

Her first impressions of him were right. “You’re a good man, Cam.”

He shook his head. “No. I’m a decent brother, like Bast. Just looking out for my little sister.”

“No. You’re a good man. I should have just asked about the message.”

“You should have. But I’m a package deal, Violet. I really want to see where this goes between the two of us, but it’s only fair you know what you’re getting.”

She thought about it for five seconds. “I’m okay with that.”

“This is a really big conversation, seeing we’ve not officially had a first date yet,” he said, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

“We could call this a date,” she said. “And technically, last night had all the key date elements. We met in a bar, shared some drinks, and went home together.”

Cam nuzzled his lips to her neck. “That’s really dressing up a one-night stand.”

Violet tilted her head slightly to give him more room. “It’s only a one-night stand if it never happens again.”

He pressed his body up against hers, the cool steel of the car against her back. “I feel the need to rectify that straight away, but my roommates will be home.”

Violet placed her hands on his shoulders. “I have an idea.”

An hour later, as they lay in the soft white sheets of a Brighton hotel, Cam kissed and licked his way back up her body while aftershocks from the orgasm his tongue had caused fluttered through her.

“This was a genius idea,” he muttered.

Every time with him left her feeling loved and sated. “I feel like it was the least I could do, seeing I made you work so hard to prove what an idiot I was.”

She could feel Cam’s lips smile against her stomach. “You were. You’re forgiven.”

“You need to make me work a little harder before you forgive me.”

Cam suddenly knelt up and stroked his dick. “I know how you can apologise.”

Sneaky.

Rolling onto all fours, she crawled to him and licked the tip of his cock. Cam groaned.

Yeah. She knew just how to show him how sorry she was.

Taking him into her mouth, she sucked him firmly, hearing the hiss of air from his lips.

Cam gathered her hair in his hands, and she looked up to see him staring at her. “Jesus. You’re beautiful, Vi.”

Adding her hand, she worked what she couldn’t fit in her mouth with firm strokes. Within minutes, his hips were moving with her, not so hard that she gagged, but enough she could tell she was taking him to breaking point.

Speeding up, she dragged her tongue along the veiny underside and worked him hard. The taste of pre-cum hit her tongue.

“Vi,” Cam groaned. “Babe. I’m…Shit. Vi.” His fingers tightened in her hair. “You need to…stop.” His words, punctuated with gasps, turned her on. Instead of moving, she gripped him tighter, her other hand reaching for his balls, tugging on them tightly.

A hand nudged her shoulder, but his eyes met hers as his mouth opened and his neck muscles corded as he came down her throat. His body shuddered as the orgasm flowed through him.

She eased him down gently as his body sagged in relief. When he was done, he fell onto his back and dragged her with him, holding her close as he pressed kisses to the top of her head.

“Vi,” he whispered.

“What?”

“I love falling in love with you.”

Vi grinned as she snuggled tighter against his chest. “I’m loving falling in love with you too.”

CHAPTER SIX

Two Years Later

“I WANT INDIGO TO HELP ME,” Eliza demanded, tugging on Cam’s arm as he waited for the chaos about to unfurl around them.

Indigo had messaged to say they were five minutes away. Bast had driven Violet’s belongings from London in a van. Violet was following him in her equally packed car with Indigo in the passenger seat, for good measure. They’d spent the last two years traveling back and forth between London and Brighton, or her coming to see him on tour. He’d let the lease on his flat run out, and they’d stayed in Violet’s flat, or in the spare room at his parents’, helping them save even more money.

But now they had a home they could finally all move into, only ten minutes from his mum and dad’s.

And his parents had just messaged the same thing as Indigo, that they were five minutes out in a van his dad had borrowed from work. Plus, his own boxes were currently being carried into the upstairs of the house by Tom and Berto, his former roommates.

His plan had been for him to move in first, then help Violet move in, then have Eliza join them. But Eliza and Violet had joined forces against him, telling him they should all move in on the same day.

And he’d caved because when their pretty faces both looked at him with sad eyes, he’d had no other option.

“I’m sure Indigo can help you a little, but remember, Indigo is pregnant and shouldn’t be lifting anything heavy.”

“I can lift heavy things.”

“Yeah, you can fill your boots and carry your own stuff.”

Eliza playfully slapped his arm. “You can carry it.”

“We’ll figure it out.” Cam scanned the road they’d be coming down. After recording with Indigo and supporting her on her tour, he’d managed to get steady income as a session musician. Violet had switched jobs from her uncle’s pub to a full-time sales gig that was commission-based almost as soon as she’d met Eliza. She was as committed to moving to Brighton and having their two-story home with Eliza as he was.

He was looking forward to falling into bed with her in their new home tonight, knowing that for the next month, neither of them needed to be anywhere else.

“She’s here. She’s here,” Eliza shouted when she saw the van.

His heart raced.

Yeah, she was finally here.

When the van and car pulled to a stop, Eliza hurried to Indigo’s door. And Indigo, being the special human being she was, threw it open and hugged Eliza tightly. “I missed you, Ellie. Stage right isn’t the same without your face peering around the set.”

Violet climbed out and placed her folded arms on the roof of the car. “Hey. I’m the sister-in-law to be,” she said, waving the engagement ring he’d presented her with on the last night of the tour.

“I love you too, Violet,” Ellie shouted, her arms wrapped tightly around Indigo’s waist.

Cam waited as she slammed the door shut and walked over to him, stepping into his arms. “God, I missed you,” she sighed.

He tipped her chin with his forefinger. “Yeah.” He kissed her softly. “I missed you too.” The next kiss had heat, enough that Bast made a vomiting sound.

“Put my sister down.”

Cam raised his middle finger behind Violet’s back, then released her to hug his soon-to-be brother-in-law. Not wanting a long engagement, they were having a simple registry office wedding, followed by a large party at the pub they’d met, in nine weeks’ time.

He knew it hurt Vi that her mum wouldn’t be there to see it, but in his one meeting with her before she passed, she’d given them her blessing.

The chaos he’d been expecting began. His plan, one person’s stuff at a time, was immediately disregarded by Ellie, who wanted her bedroom set up but then decided she wanted to help Violet with all her plants. Then, Violet gifted some of them to Ellie, so it seemed like plants were being transported up and down stairs more than boxes.

His dad was all about setting up Ellie’s television while his mum wavered in her nervousness that Ellie would be okay versus her pride at Ellie’s strike for independence.

And it didn’t help that he couldn’t keep his eyes or hands off his fiancée. When he found her in their bathroom, rolling towels and placing them onto the shelf, he kicked the door shut and locked it before wrapping his arms around her.

“I wish all these people would just leave,” he said, sliding one hand down between her leggings, cupping her firmly.

She pressed her butt back against his dick and tilted her head so he could kiss her lips. “Those people saved us from paying a fortune in moving company charges.”

“Mmm.” He removed his hand and turned her, so she faced him. “You really are the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“To you,” she replied.

“Maybe, but that’s all that matters, right?” Cam nudged her back to the wall. “Fancy a quiet quickie?”

“No, she fucking doesn’t,” Bast yelled from the hallway as he hammered on the bathroom door.

Violet giggled as Cam burst out laughing. “Guess I should have used my inside voice.”

“Meh. It’s not like we don’t know how Indie got knocked up.”

They’d had a conversation seven months earlier when a drunken night and a lack of condoms had led to pregnancy scare. Violet wasn’t ready for kids yet, and neither was he. His music career was taking off, they’d been saving hard for their home, he needed to give Eliza time to adjust to being there with them instead of with his parents.

They wanted kids. Just not now, when the house reno costs had them stretched them so thin and the credit cards were groaning under the strain.

They’d planned, in the event of a positive test, for an abortion, but thankfully, her period had come three days later, to their relief. They’d agreed they wanted kids. Just not yet.

Now, they had time. To adjust to living together, to build their careers, to pay off their debt, and to ensure Eliza lived her best possible life.

“Thank you,” he said, cupping her cheeks. “For all of this. For moving away from your family. I know it was tough to leave after your mum died, but I’m so glad I never had to make the choice between Eliza and you.”

She placed her palms over his. “I would never have made you choose. Plus, I love Brighton. I love being near the sea. And your mum and dad have been amazing.”

“I love you, Vi. With all that I am. I can’t believe I walked into a pub—” he reached for her hand and kissed the knuckle of her engagement ring finger “—and ended up with a wife.”

“Fiancée.”

“Meh. Details. You know what I mean. I get you forever. And you get to keep me.”

Violet grinned. “That seems like the very best outcome.”

About the Author

Scarlett Cole is a contemporary romance author that calls both Toronto, Canada and Manchester, England home. A born city dweller, she periodically quashes the urge to live in the country by hiking up a mountain to remind herself that living away from people would terrify the pants off her.

She believes everybody deserves their love story to be told and loves her heroes on the rough and rugged side…and usually tall (because she married one of those 6ft 6” men you read about in romance!). She’s an A-type personality and Scorpio star sign, so good luck getting her to do anything she doesn’t want to.

When she isn’t writing, she’s happy to talk about hot men and expensive shoes while drinking a cold gin and tonic. Don’t bring up olives. As far as Scarlett is concerned, they are the devil’s food. As long as you don’t bring up olives, she’s happy to hear from you any time.

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WHEN IT RAINS, IT POURS

S.E. ROSE

CHAPTER ONE

JADE

SOMEWHERE BETWEEN THE golf ball-sized hail and the lightning strikes, I decide to park under a bridge. I’m still an hour away from the hospital, but I can’t even see ten feet in front of me and if the hail gets any larger it’s going to crack my windshield and then I will definitely not be seeing anything.

With a sigh, I pull my truck over and park it in the gravel beside the road. For a long moment, I regret the decision to buy this vintage truck. I have no charging station, no high-tech navigation system, and no fancy satellite radio. Heck, this car only has an old cassette player that doesn’t work and an AM/FM radio. Conveniently, I have no radio signal under this dilapidated old overpass. Flipping off the now static white noise, I lean back in my seat.

I dig my phone out of my overnight bag and call my sister. Sally picks up on the second ring, which surprises me.

“Hey, everything alright? Did you run into the storms?” she asks, her voice laced with concern.

“Yep. I had to pull off under this bridge,” I answer as I open the weather app on my phone, but I only have enough service for a call and not data.

“Oh, wow. I’m glad you found a safe place. These storms look really bad,” she warns. I can hear some weather guy talking on the television in her hospital room.

“Sorry, Sally, I’m trying to get there,” I say as I nervously pick at the ripped leather on my car’s bench seat.

“Jade, it’s not your fault that peanut number two has decided to make an entrance during one of the worst weather nights ever,” she replies with a small laugh. I smile. Peanut Number Two. It’s what Sally and Derek have been calling this kid.

“Did your neighbor get Kyle settled down?” I ask, referring to my nephew, or as I started calling him a few weeks ago, the Original Peanut.

“Yeah, he’ll probably sleep through the night, watch a few cartoons, and eat waffles before he knows he’s a big brother.”

“How are you feeling?” I ask tentatively as I try to stop my finger from making the hole in the seat any worse.

“The contractions aren’t that bad yet, so pretty good. The doctor thinks this one will come faster.”

I hear someone in the background.

“Jade, I gotta go. The nurse is here. Call me when you can safely get back on the road, but don’t rush it. There are two more lines of storms behind this one. If you don’t make it until peanut number two arrives, it’s fine. We’ll be here.”

“I’m not missing this. I promise.”

“Love ya, sissy,” she says.

“Love you more. Now, go work on pushing that watermelon kiddo out. I need another niece or nephew to spoil.”

She laughs as we disconnect. I’m glad she’s in good spirits. Sally has been through hell and back. They had no problems getting pregnant with Kyle, but then she had three miscarriages in a row. The last one was bad, and she had complications and was in the hospital for a week. Thankfully, she had amazing doctors and medical care. They weren’t sure she could even have more kids. But then, out of nowhere, peanut number two decided to stick around. She refused to find out the sex and refused to pick names. She didn’t even pull Kyle’s crib and baby stuff out until three days ago.

Two days ago, she asked if I would come out when she got induced. And here I am, trying to get there, except this storm is killing my aunty vibes. I look down at the navigation app on my phone as the romance audiobook I was playing starts back up. I sigh and wish I had an alpha male character with me right now. I roll my eyes at the absurdity of that thought. I’m literally in the middle of nowhere and I’d more than likely find some creepy guy than one I’d want to do anything romantic with.

My mind wonders as I listen to the narrator’s voice. I stupidly tried to beat the weather by taking this back way and now I’m in the middle of nowhere, stuck under an overpass with not another car in sight…until I see a single headlight in my rearview mirror. I squint trying to get a better look but the hail that’s now marble-sized is still coming down and blocking any real view I might have. The vehicle gets closer and that’s when I realize it’s a motorcycle, not a car. The motorcycle pulls off and parks behind my car. The rider is huge. I nonchalantly use my elbow to press the lock down on my door. Great. Now I’m going to get murdered by some crazy biker dude. Perfect. Just perfect.

CHAPTER TWO

GUNNAR

BAXTER MALLORY IS GOING to kill me. I promised him I’d be there with this bike an hour ago. Baxter is my silent business partner. He’s also a badass ex-special ops security agent. He’s made a shit ton of money protecting famous people. But before that, he used to play stickball with me behind the crappy trailer park where we lived. I once saved his ass from a beating when I covered for him and told his old man that he was at my place. So, when I asked him to invest in my bike shop, he didn’t hesitate.

I promised him I would deliver this new bike to him tonight. He wants to impress a girl. Not sure she’s the type that will be impressed by a bike, but that’s not my problem. Yet, here I am, in a sudden downpour of hail. Fuck. So much for my damn weather app.

I manage to make out the outline of the overpass ahead. I pull in behind an old pickup truck. The hail lightens up a little, but the wind howls through the covered space, and the rain pelts sideways nearly reaching me. I retrieve my phone from my pocket, trying to shield it from the rain as I attempt to look at the radar.

My eyes widen as I see the line of storms overhead followed by two more intense lines of storms. What the fuck? I send Bax a message, explaining my delay and stick the phone back in my pocket. What am I going to do now?

I glance ahead again at the truck. A driver is sitting inside. I pull my helmet off to get a better view. Bright blue eyes meet mine in the car’s rearview mirror. A woman. She glances away quickly. I look down and smirk. I probably look scary as fuck. Well, she’s right to be scared. I didn’t exactly grow up on the right side of the tracks and in this get-up, some pretty little thing like her would probably mistake me for some angry biker.

I look around. There are woods ahead of us. Behind us, on one side of the road is a farm. An old barn sits atop a hill, but the house next to it is boarded up and definitely not inhabited. On the other side of the road is a meadow leading down to a stream with more trees. The farm could have people living on it, but farms out here can be a couple of hundred acres, so who knows how far away we are from an actual occupied home.

The wind howls again as lightning strikes nearby and suddenly the rain is being blown at me. I instinctively put my hands over my head as I grab my helmet.

“Get in!” a voice yells.

I look up to find the woman leaning out of her car window and motioning me to it with one hand. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I grab the key to the motorcycle and run up to the passenger side of her car. I open it and peer inside. The beauty of the woman staring back at me nearly knocks the wind out of my lungs. Her dark hair is pulled up on top of her head. Curly ringlets fall around her face. She has a perfect little nose and lips that I’m currently envisioning around my cock. My eyes trail down to tits that look like they belong on an underwear model. I can see her clench her hands around the wheel nervously.

I hold my hands out, so she can see I’m not a danger.

“You should get in here. It’s going to get worse before it gets better,” she insists. She chews on her lips nervously as she looks at me. Her voice is sultry and low. Everything about her screams sex, yet it also screams that she has no idea how gorgeous she is. Her messy hair, no makeup, old graphic t-shirt, and cut-off jean shorts are not flashy. But there’s nothing she can do to hide her natural beauty. It radiates from her like rays of sunshine. I quickly chastise myself. I shouldn’t be staring at her like this.

I’m about to tell her that I’ll be fine when a tree falls in front of us, and a branch comes flying in our direction. I duck and quickly jump inside the vehicle, slamming the door behind me.

“Damn! That was close,” she whisper yells.

“It wasn’t supposed to storm until later,” I mumble. Water drips from my hair and beard onto my leather jacket.

She turns and reaches behind us, retrieving a towel. “I think you might need this.”

I stare at the towel. “That’s, uh, very kind of you,” I manage as I take it and dry my head off. Either she’s Mary Poppins or a Girl Scout, it could go either way.

I set the towel down on the seat between us as I take in the car’s interior. It’s not in horrible condition, but it needs a lot of TLC. There are a few rips in the leather upholstery. And the steering wheel and stick shift have seen better days.

“Jade,” she says as she holds out her hand to me.

I slowly raise mine and as I shake her hand, it disappears inside my much larger one.

“Gunnar,” I reply. I pull my hand away because touching this gorgeous woman is doing things to me. I need to get laid, badly.

I clear my throat. “Hell of a storm,” I mutter, trying to fill the silence.

“Yeah…I, uh, didn’t think it’d hit till later,” she agrees as she stares forward at the carnage in front of us. Branches cover half the road. It’s going to be a pain in the ass to get out of here later.

She picks at one of the tears in the leather of the seat. “Trying to avoid the interstate?” I ask, attempting to put her at ease again with some small talk. Some would say I’m lucky to be a big man, but it’s a curse. People take one look at me and think I’m a monster. And when I was younger, I enjoyed that shit. I wanted people to be scared of me. Hell, if they were scared of me, then no one would hurt me. Even now, it comes in handy, except for this very moment where I don’t want this woman frightened of me.

I glance down and see the branch gave me a nasty cut on my hand. I should be wearing my gloves, but I was being careless.

“Oh,” she says as she follows my gaze. “I have a first aid kit…” She trails off as she dives over the seat, her ass in the air as she rummages around in the back. I stare at her backside because it’s right in my face. She has a nice ass and a dozen dirty thoughts pierce through any decency I have left.

Thankfully, she finishes looking and plops back down on the seat holding a small white box with a red cross on it. She opens it and takes out a packet of alcohol swabs. She looks up at me.

“May I?” she asks as she motions to my hand. I nod and hold it out to her.

She takes it gently in her hands and cleans the cut and then places two bandages over it. Her soft hands caress mine as she examines it.

“There, all better,” she says as she smiles proudly at her work.

“Thank you,” I reply in a low voice. I don’t like it when she pulls her hands away from mine. I want to reach out and take them back, but I stop myself.

“What were you doing out here all alone?” I ask.

Pink spreads across her cheeks and down her neck to her chest. “I…was trying to cut some time off my drive. I’m on my way to the hospital to be with my sister.”

“Oh…”

“How about you?” she asks as she swivels a little to face me.

“I’m supposed to bring that bike over to my buddy’s place. I just hope it gets there in one piece,” I say with a sigh as I glance back at it.

“Are you selling it?” she asks her eyes staying fixed on mine.

“I fix up bikes and sometimes cars. My friend bought that one. It’s vintage, and I restored her for him.”

“That’s cool,” she answers as she runs her hand over the bench seat that we’re sitting on. “I need to work on restoring this beauty.”

I chuckle and she grins at me. Fuck. Her thousand-watt smile could light a whole city.

I poke my finger at the tear she’s been fingering. “It definitely needs a little work.”

“But she has good bones,” she says confidently. “How’d you get into fixing bikes?”

I lean back, remembering my very first one. I look at her and for a moment, I consider lying or glazing over the story, but for reasons I can’t explain, I launch into the story of my first bike, a bike I bought because I couldn’t afford a car. I tell her everything about growing up in the trailer park as the storm dies down outside.

When I finish speaking, she’s curled up with a sweatshirt that she’s pulled out of the back of the truck. I’m beginning to wonder if she lives in this truck because she has so much shit back there.

“You live far from here?” I ask, pausing my story to inquire about her.

She shrugs. “Sort of. This is about halfway between my sister and me.”

I want to ask why her sister is in the hospital, but I don’t want to bum her out if it’s something bad like cancer.

“Thanks for letting me in here,” I say as I look into her bright blue eyes.

She gives me a small smile. “I couldn’t let you stay out there. It was too dangerous. It was probably stupid of me, huh? You could be a serial killer or something.”

“You’re in luck. I only kill people driving convertibles,” I reply with a grin and a wink.

She laughs, and I love the sound of it. Something about it puts me at ease. “Good thing I have a truck.”

“How’d you end up with this jalopy?” I ask, using a word that I’ve heard my grandfather say a million times.

Her smile spreads across her face as she begins to tell me the story of how she got in a bad car accident and her insurance was shit and this car was all she could afford. And then when she could afford a better car, she didn’t want to because she was so attached to this beast.

“Beast?” I ask with a lopsided grin.

She bites her bottom lip, and her cheeks turn pink again. “Yeah…it’s such a big and ugly car that I decided to name it the Beast. You know, like the movie?”

“I have a little sister…I know the movie,” I grunt.

“Right,” she says. She opens her mouth to say something more, but our phones suddenly sound with a weather warning.

We both hold them up to see a tornado warning.

“Shit,” I mutter as I look out at the waning rain. As I crane my head more, I see dark clouds coming behind the lighter ones that are currently overhead. The tinge of green to them does not give a warm and fuzzy feeling.

I turn back and look at the barn.

“We need to run and take shelter,” I command.

“Where?” She looks around as if we are in a field with nowhere to hide.

I point to the barn and her head whips in the direction of my finger.

I open my door. “Come on, Jade. We need to go. Now!”

CHAPTER THREE

JADE

MY LEGS ARE PUMPING AS FAST as I can move them, but it’s not fast enough for Gunnar. He looks back behind us and his face pales.

I go to turn, but he grabs me by the waist and hoists me over his shoulder as if I’m made of air, running us both up the hill to the barn. I look and see the clouds in the distance. One cloud is distinctly funnel-shaped. Fuck.

I hear a thump and turn my head to see Gunnar kick open a door in the stone side of the lower portion of the barn. The barn is built on a hill with this side allowing entrance from a level that’s beneath the ground on the opposite side. He hurries us inside. The building is abandoned. He sets me down and takes my hand, leading me toward the back corner where there are no windows. His eyes dance around the building.

“Stay here,” he yells over the bustling wind outside that is growing louder by the minute.

I crouch in the corner and a moment later he’s back with a large wooden table. He sets it down and we crawl underneath it. He’s practically on his belly because of his size. I pull my knees up to my chest. He hands me something. I frown as I examine it. An old riding helmet.

“No way,” I state as I stare at the old dirty helmet and wonder how many insects live inside it.

He doesn’t answer me, but instead grabs the helmet and shoves it on my head. I wince because it’s too tight.

“It’ll protect you,” he grumbles.

Great. Now I’m stuck in a tornado with some overbearing, alpha biker. The wind keeps intensifying. I feel myself trembling.

All of a sudden, Gunnar’s body is wrapped around mine and he’s pulling me down so that his body covers mine. Pieces of the barn start to blow away and I scream.

“I got you,” he yells as he buries his face in my hair. I can barely breathe with his weight on me. We’re probably going to die. Yet, I’m sniffing his chest. He smells so fucking good. Why does he smell so good? And I feel oddly…safe? God, I’m an idiot. I’m not safe. I’m in the middle of a damn tornado with a stranger, well, sort of a stranger.

“I stole gum once from the gas station!” I yell, admitting a sin like Gunnar is a priest and I’m at a confessional.

His head pulls back just enough to look down at me. Even with the building flying apart above us, he grins and shakes his head.

“And I once broke a lamp trying to somersault off the sofa and I blamed my sister!” I continue.

“And my grandmother died at least twelve times in college so I could turn a paper in late!”

The truths start pouring out of me.

“My last boyfriend thought he always made me come, but I never did, not once. I faked it every time!”

Why the hell did I just say that?

Gunnar’s eyes widen.

“And the boyfriend before that only made me come when he used a vibrator!”

Why am continuing with this insane sex truth verbal diarrhea? Is this what people do when they’re on the verge of death? Spill every embarrassing secret?

I’m about to say that the boyfriend before that never got the chance because he was so bad at sex when he took my virginity that I lied repeatedly after that saying I was on my period every time, but Gunnar takes my helmet-covered head in his hands and gazes into my eyes. The world around us ceases to exist as I lean up and he leans down, our lips crashing together. He kisses me hard.

This isn’t a let-me-make-it-better kiss. This is the kiss of a man possessed, or maybe just one that wants me to shut the hell up. I’m pretty sure the suction of his lips and swipes of his tongue along mine have completely removed my soul from my body. Fuck, he can kiss. Now, I’m less concerned about the fact that we might die at any moment and more concerned about how to keep Gunnar’s lips on mine.

His hands trail down my body as he settles himself between my legs. His mouth continues to own mine. I don’t care about anything as my brain completely shuts down, not the tornado overhead, not the baby on the way, not the fact we could die at any moment, all I want is Gunnar, naked and inside me. I’ve never once had a one-night stand. But I feel like making up for lost time.

I reach between us and feel his hard length through his jeans. My eyes fly open and find him watching me as we kiss. I can feel his smirk against my lips. I want to roll my eyes. Wait, too late, I roll my eyes.

He either doesn’t care or doesn’t notice because he slowly kisses down my neck to my collarbone. His beard is scratchy against my skin, but it feels…right. The coarse hairs light up every nerve they touch. Part of my brain says that we should stop, but a bigger part of my brain says we should definitely not stop.

He seems to gather himself when his lips touch my chest just above my breasts. He pulls back and looks down at me. The winds begin to die down outside.

“I…we should probably stop,” he murmurs.

“No, we should fucking not stop,” I protest as I reach up and drag his face back to mine.

“I don’t have a condom,” he states as he presses soft kisses to the corners of my mouth.

I feel my face heat because I’m already wondering what he’ll think when I tell him that I do.

“What?” he asks, sensing my uncertainty.

I bite my lip as I look up into his dark eyes. “I do,” I mumble

His eyes widen, and it makes me giggle. I’ve shocked this giant, tattooed, motorcycle-riding badass of a man.

“You?” he asks. His face is the perfect picture of astonishment.

“Me,” I confirm as I reach into my pocket and pull out my wallet, retrieving the one condom that I keep there for emergencies. Sally called it the “you never know” condom. She made me promise to keep one in there when I went to college. “It’s your body. Enjoy it and take control of it,” she had said. Then she repeated that line from the movie, Pretty Woman, about saying who and when.

I remember laughing at the time, but right now, I am so not laughing. I’m silently thanking my sister for insisting I keep this with me at all times.

I hold up the condom, and he stares at it and then at me.

“Jade…are you sure?” he asks.

I smile up at him and run my hand through his beard, feeling the coarse hairs. “I wouldn’t be holding up a condom, if I was anything less than sure, Gunnar. This is…crazy, but, right now, I want you.”

He takes the condom from me and sets it down next to my head as he slowly presses his lips back to mine. Our bodies begin to rub against each other, seeking the friction we so badly desire.

I reach down and unbutton my shorts, pushing them and my underwear off as he starts unzipping his jeans. We’re a fury of movements as we divest ourselves of our clothes. With a single hand, he pushes the table away from us while pulling his shirt over his head with the other hand. When we’re naked, he sits back on his haunches and stares down at me. I look up at him and holy fucking hell, he’s even more mammoth without clothes. He has more tattoos across his chest and one on his abdomen trailing up a perfect set of muscles. But it’s his erection that has all my attention as I stare, open-mouthed at it. For a split second, I reconsider his question as he reaches over and rips the condom foil with his teeth, removing it and sheathing himself. My legs are spread on either side of him. His appreciative gaze travels from my breasts to the apex of my thighs. On instinct, I start to press my thighs together, but his hands stop me. He looks into my eyes and neither of us moves for a long moment.

“You’re perfect, Jade,” he whispers.

Holy fucking hotness. I let my legs fall back open. He runs a single finger through my folds, and I arch into his touch as I reach between us, wrapping my hand around his cock. Damn, he feels good, so good.

He presses two fingers inside me, slowly working them in and out until I’m panting.

“Please,” I beg, spreading my legs wider. I need him. Maybe it’s the adrenaline, maybe it’s my need to distract myself, whatever it is, I need him, and I need him now.

He uses his thumb to rub circles around my clit, and I’m fairly certain I might implode if he doesn’t fuck me in the next three seconds. I’m about to state those very words, when he removes his fingers, leans down, and presses the tip of his cock against my entrance. He’s slow as he pushes inside me, pulling out and then pushing back inside. He does this over and over, sinking another inch with each thrust. It burns a little, but I can tell he’s doing his best to let me acclimate to his size. Who would have thought this burly biker dude would be so caring?

I wrap my legs around him and attempt to encourage him deeper.

“There’s another line of storms coming, Jade. We have time,” he whispers into my ear before he bites my earlobe. I groan. I can feel myself growing wetter by the minute.

“She likes it a little rough, does she?” he asks with a chuckle.

As if confirming that statement, I thrust up to meet his hips. He grabs my left breast in his hand and then plants his other hand alongside my head. He grinds his hips and pushes in deep and my toes curl. I’m so full. He feels so good.

“Don’t stop,” I urge as my eyes close.

Our bodies begin to move in unison, pushing and pulling in an utterly perfect movement. I feel myself climbing higher as he thrusts harder.

“Yes!” I cry out as I begin to feel myself lose control.

“Fuck, baby, give it to me,” he grunts as he slams with rapid force into me. My body is going to be covered in bruises from being pushed on the floor, but right now, I don’t care. I just want this release that I’m chasing.

He grabs my legs and pushes them, so my calves are resting on his shoulders, and he slams into me again. This angle makes it deeper. It’s almost painful, yet that little twinge of pain feels good. I want more, so much more.

“Right there!” I yell as I feel my body begins to tremble.

His rhythm picks up and I lose control, freefalling into complete and utter bliss. I can feel his cock jerking inside me as he grunts through his own release. And then he falls on top of me, supporting himself on his elbows as he leans down and kisses me slowly.

If this is a dream, I don’t ever want to wake up.

CHAPTER FOUR

GUNNAR

I PULL BACK and look down at her. She looks like an angel. The sun is now peeking through the missing pieces of the barn’s roof and illuminating her hair, which is fanned around her face. Her hair tie must have come loose in the helmet when she removed it. I reach inside it, feeling around with one hand until I have it. I hold it out to her. She takes it as we both begin to put our clothes back on.

The barn is still mostly intact, but pieces of the roof and sideboards lie strewn around. Water drips from broken windowpanes. I hold out my hand to her and we step through the fragments of glass and debris. Once outside, we both stop and take in our surroundings. There are a few more trees down north of the barn.

“The tornado must have passed just there,” she notes as she points at the clear path it’s made through the forest canopy.

I nod. We walk back down to the underpass, and I hear Jade’s sigh of relief when we find the car and motorcycle undamaged. There are some small pieces of trash and tiny branches scattered about, but otherwise, they are fine.

“I guess we could have stayed here,” she says as she walks up to the truck and peers inside it.

“The barn was a safer option,” I retort.

She shrugs and looks back at me. “Thanks for the…distraction?”

I chuckle and step toward her, taking her in my arms. She leans back and gazes into my eyes.

“You are most unexpected,” she says quietly.

“Right back at you…sinner,” I reply with a wink.

She groans and puts a hand over her eyes. “I can’t believe I said all those things. I thought we were going to die.”

I press my lips together to keep from laughing. “I sort of figured that out. I don’t normally go around kissing women like that, but I didn’t know how else to shut you up and distract you.”

She pulls her hand away and rolls her eyes as she looks back at me. “You could have just said, ‘shut up’ and I would have happily complied.”

“Noted. If we’re ever in mortal danger again, I’ll tell you to be quiet rather than kiss you.”

She giggles and leans in close to me, placing her hands on my chest and pulling herself up on her tippy toes, so her eyes are level with my nose. “I maybe liked the kiss, Gunnar. I didn’t tell you to stop, now did I?”

“No, ma’am,” I reply as I stare at her swollen lips. “Permission to kiss you again?”

“Permission granted.”

She barely gets the last syllable out when I crash my mouth to hers. Shit, this woman can kiss. She tastes like soda and bubble gum. Both are probably items that I could find in that monstrosity of a vehicle she drives. I don’t want to let her go, but time is not on our side.

With one final swipe of my tongue along hers, I pull back and slowly step away. “I gotta go,” I say as I glance back at my motorcycle.

“Oh, right,” she responds as she opens her car door and grabs my helmet. She hands it to me as she slides into her driver’s seat. “Good luck with the motorcycle delivery.”

“Good luck with…your sister?”

“Oh crap, the baby. Yeah, I better get going,” she says as if coming out of a trance.

“Baby?”

“Yeah, she’s going to have a baby. I’m just hoping it all goes well. Anyhow, it was great to meet you,” she explains as she turns on the car and I reach forward and shut her door for her.

Leaning on it, she rolls down her window. “Thanks again, Gunnar.”

She holds her hand out to me and I take it once more in mine, only this time, instead of shaking it, I hold it up and press a kiss to the back of it.

“Anytime, Jade, anytime.”

I release her hand and step back, holding my helmet under my arm as I watch her drive off into the distance. Part of me wants to get her number and call her, but another part of me wonders if she’d even want me to.

Regret swirls with my resolve as I stand and watch the potential for love drive away.

EPILOGUE

JADE

“I THINK HE LOOKS LIKE DEREK,” Sally says as she stares down at the baby in her arms. I made it with twelve minutes to spare and got to see my nephew’s arrival. I was the third person to ever hold him. I’m exhausted and elated.

“Did you pick a name yet?” I ask.

Sally shakes her head.

Derek leans over and stares at the baby. “What about something with a ‘k’ so it matches Kyle’s name?”

“No, I hate when families do that; it’s so cheesy,” Sally says.

“What about Gunnar?” I suggest. I quickly press my lips together. I’ve told most of the tornado story to Sally and Derek over the last hour, well, not all of it.

“The man who saved you from the tornado?” Sally asks.

“Yeah, the man who saved me,” I repeat as I contemplate all the ways he saved me. I blush.

“I like that name,” Derek says.

Sally looks down at her son. “Gunnar,” she repeats, testing the sound of it. “Yes, I think that’s a very fitting name.”

“Gunnar Jaden,” Derek declares as he looks at me.

“Jaden?” I ask.

Sally smiles. “We’ve talked about it. You’ve done so much for us Jade. You were there…through everything. I never worried about Kyle because I knew he’d always have you. You stayed with me after…when I needed help and Derek had to go back to work. You’ve been such a big part of making us whole again. So, yes.”

My eyes well with tears and I lean down and kiss my nephew and then I throw my arms around my sister’s neck. “I love you, Sally.”

“Love you, too. Now, can someone go get me real food? I’m starving!” Sally says loudly and Gunnar’s eyes fly open.

“I’ll go. You two spend some time alone with G.J.”

“Did you just give him his first nickname?” Sally asks.

I grin. “Sure as fuck did.” I lean down and fist bump his little curled-up hand. Derek laughs and I head in search of food.

After surveying the hospital’s cafeteria, I find a sandwich shop on my phone that’s two blocks away. I walk there, enjoying the cool evening breeze as I try to wrap my head around everything that’s happened in less than six hours. What a completely crazy day!

I get in line and order us each a sandwich. Stepping back to wait, I lean against the wall and check my phone for messages. If I’m being honest, I’m half-hoping that Gunnar will have called or texted me. It’s not rocket science to find people these days. Hell, maybe I could just look him up and find his motorcycle shop. But then what? I didn’t ask for his number. Would that be too stalker-like?

Sighing, I hear my name called and I grab the food. I turn to walk out of the shop and run smack into a wall of muscles. Big hands come out and grab my upper arms, steadying me. I look up and drop the bag of food. It’s Gunnar.

“Jade?” he asks, his lips twisted in confusion that must be mirroring my own face.

“Gunnar?”

“I…was hungry and thought I’d stop for a bite before catching a ride home.” He pauses. “How’s your sister?”

I grin. “I have a new nephew. She and Gunnar are great.” I blush.

“Gunnar?”

“Yeah, I might have told them about you…and our little tornadic adventure. I mean…not all of it, but…you know.”

He raises an eyebrow and my skin heats further.

“Your sister named her son after me?”

I nod and bite my lip.

A giant grin spreads across his face. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“Is that a good thing?” I ask.

He pulls me into his arms. “It’s a very good thing. It was a mistake not getting your number, Jade. I’m not going to make that same mistake twice.”

“You’re not?” I whisper as my eyes glance down to his lips.

“Nope.”

“You need a ride home?” I ask, gazing back up to find him watching me intently.

“In the old jalopy?”

“Be nice. The Beast is sensitive about his age,” I tease.

He chuckles. “Noted.”

He pulls back and holds out his hand to me after leaning down to pick up my bag of food. “Ready for another adventure?”

I study his hand for a heartbeat before reaching out and accepting it. “Lead the way.”

And just like that, my real-life alpha biker man leads me out the door, and onto the first page of my very own happily ever after.

About the Author

USA Today & International bestselling romance author, S.E. Rose lives near Washington D.C. with her family. When she’s not wrangling her cats or keeping up with her kids, she’s plotting her next story.

She loves all things wine, coffee, and cats. In her non-existent free time, she enjoys traveling, going to concerts, binging on her favorite shows, and reading, especially if it’s a good mystery or comedy.

Learn more about upcoming books from S.E. Rose at www.seroseauthor.com

GAVIN’S OBSESSION

SHAW HART

CHAPTER ONE

GAVIN

“HAVE FUN WITH YOUR FRIEND,” Rule says, his tone sarcastic.

I roll my eyes at him as I head to my Jeep and climb behind the wheel. I watch as he hops on his bike and revs the engine. He waves at me as I drive past. I smile as I drive home.

I’m used to the comments and sarcasm surrounding my relationship with Ophelia. She’s been my best friend since kindergarten, and I’ve been in love with her for as long. I’m pretty sure everyone knows how I feel about her too. Everyone but Ophelia that is.

Rule and my other best friend, Wes, figured it out when we were overseas. I couldn’t stop talking about her. They’ve been pushing me to tell her how I feel or ask her out, but I can’t. If things got weird between us or if she wasn’t part of my life anymore because she didn’t feel the same way, then I don’t know what I would do with myself.

Ten minutes later, I pull into my driveway, and I smile. Ophelia is already home. When I got out of the military and moved back to the States, I didn’t want to go back to Houston. I wanted something smalle,r and when I found out that Wes was going back to his hometown to work on his family’s ranch, I decided to join him.

Ophelia was looking for a change too after her dad was caught cheating with his secretary. Ophelia had been working for her dad at his law office and she promptly quit when news hit.

She wanted to get away since the divorce proceedings were starting to get nasty, so I offered to let her move in with me until she found a new job in Diamond, Texas. She started working at the preschool downtown a week after she moved in and neither of us have talked about her leaving.

The truth is that I don’t want her to leave. The only place that I want her to move is into my bedroom, but I’m not going to get that anytime soon.

Ophelia and I have always been there for each other. When my dad died, she came over every day after school and sat with me. When she did poorly on a test or her parents were fighting, I was there for her. I helped her study and when we were thirteen, I built a tree fort in my backyard that we used to hide out in. She’s always been my safe space and I hope that I’m hers too.

“I’m home! It smells good in here,” I say as I walk into the kitchen, breathing in the scent of garlic and Oregano.

Ophelia is busy cooking and I relax when I see her standing at the stove, stirring a pot of spaghetti sauce.

“Thanks. I made homemade meatballs, and I think that they turned out really good this time. How was work?” she asks with a sweet smile.

I stare into those green eyes, and my heart skips a beat in my chest. It’s like this every time I see her. Dream about her. Like my soul is recognizing hers.

“It was good. We got a new client,” I tell her as I grab a glass and fill it with water from the fridge. “What about you? Did you have to chase after that Andrew kid again?”

“Yes,” she groans, and I grin. “He’s so full of energy. I swear his parents must be giving him bowls of sugar before they drop him off.”

“Maybe some energy drinks or Mountain Dew to go with the sugar.” She giggles.

“I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Ophelia and I have always had the same sense of humor. It’s why we bonded when we were kids. We love the same things and she can make me laugh harder than anyone else.

“I’ve got the movie all set up,” she says as she turns off the burner and moves to drain the spaghetti in the sink.

“What are we watching tonight?”

“Bridesmaids,” she says with a bright, infectious grin.

She loves that movie, and I love to see her cracking up even though we’ve already watched it at least a dozen times, I’d gladly watch it a hundred more times to see her happy.

I grab two plates and help her get the food ready before we carry everything over to the living room. I take my spot on the couch, and she settles beside me. For the past six months, this has been our routine. I can’t help but think about what my friends have been telling me for years.

Maybe Wes and Rule are right. Maybe I should tell Ophelia that I love her; that I always have loved her. I know that I’m risking our relationship, but if I don’t tell her how I feel, then I’ll never be with her.

I glance at her out of the corner of my eye and my breath stalls in my lungs. She’s so beautiful; the most gorgeous woman that I’ve ever seen.

An image of me sitting here alone hits me, and I know that I can’t tell her. I can put our relationship in jeopardy.

“Ready?” Ophelia asks and I blink, looking away from her.

“Yeah,” I say as I lean back on the couch.

She hits play, and I try to force thoughts of Ophelia and I together from my mind as the opening credits start.

CHAPTER TWO

OPHELIA

“BYE, MS. JONES!” Andrew calls.

I let out a deep breath. Today has been a long day. A killer headache pounds behind my eyes from corralling kids and stopping the fight over my only purple marker.

I love kids, always have, so the job at the preschool was a perfect fit. It’s just days like today when I’d like a big margarita and a nice long soak in a tub.

Luckily for me, it’s Taco Tuesday. I’ll be getting that margarita soon enough.

First, I need to go get coffee with my friend, Arlowe. I glance at the clock. Twenty minutes. I still have time to clean up my room. When I stow the last bottle of glue, I grab my purse and wave goodbye to the receptionist at the front desk.

I head across town to the Cool Beans Coffee Shop. It’s quiet now that it’s after noon and I find a spot right out front and head in.

“Ophelia!” Arlowe calls from a table over by the window. I smile as I start to walk that way.

Two steaming cups of coffee and two muffins sit on the table. I smile as I pick up my cup and take a long drink.

“Long day?” She asks with a laugh.

I groan. “It’s been a long week.”

“It’s only Tuesday,” she reminds me.

I drop my head down into my hands. “I love the kids, I really do, it’s just that Andrew kid! He’s got me so worn out.”

“You should get one of those little trampolines and just let him go crazy. That will tire him out.”

“Yeah, but then I have to break up fights because everyone would want to use it.”

“Get twelve of them,” she says.

I laugh. “I don’t think the center would go for that.”

“Probably not,” she agrees.

“How’s the ranch?” I ask her as she unwraps her muffin.

Arlowe works on Kings Ranch with her brothers. Their parents passed it down to them.

“Things are good. We got some new foals in, and I’ve been helping Jax with breaking them.”

“So we’re both chasing after little ones then.”

She laughs. “So, how’s Gavin?” Arlowe asks as she takes a sip of her coffee.

I take a drink of my own drink as I try to think of a way out of this conversation. Arlowe and I met when I had first moved to town and we became fast friends. She figured out that I was head over heels in love with Gavin as soon as she saw the two of us together and has been urging me to tell him how I feel ever since.

“He’s good,” I say, trying to keep my tone light.

“Yeah?” She asks with a hopeful smile.

“I haven’t told him about how I feel about him,” I admit. and she deflates.

“Why not? You two are perfect together and I know that he likes you too.”

“Yeah, as a friend,” I grumble and she shakes her head.

“As more than that. If you could see the way that he looks at you, then you’d get it. I wish that the two of you would just open your eyes and admit that you both love each other.”

My heart races in my chest with hope at her words but I know that I can’t get my hopes up. I’ve done that once before, when we were fifteen and he had asked me to go to the spring fling dance with him. I thought that it meant something, but we just hung out as friends the whole night and I was devastated when nothing came of it. I don’t think that I could handle that disappointment again.

Arlowe’s phone buzzes.She sighs as she checks her messages.

“I’ve got to go. Wesley needs me to grab a few things from the store for dinner.”

“Yeah, I should get home too.”

“Yeah, get home to your Gavin.”

I want to argue with her that he’s not my Gavin, but he kind of is. He only goes to work and then back home to me.

Maybe she’s right. Maybe he does like me the way that I like him. I mean, he’s never dated, not since we’ve been in Diamond. When I asked about his time in the military, he always said he was too busy to even think about dating or finding someone to settle down with.

I hug Arlowe goodbye and head home to get started on dinner. Tacos won’t take very long so I head into Gavin’s bathroom. He has this big sunken tub and lets me use it anytime that I want.

I fill it up with the bubble bath Gavin got for me, and strip out of my clothes. It always feels a little naughty to get naked in Gavin’s space. I always wonder what would happen if he were to walk in on me. It’s kind of become a little fantasy of mine.

I soak in the warm water, letting it ease my sore muscles until the water turns cold and I’m forced to get out. I’m in my room getting dressed when the front door opens.

“Honey, I’m home!” he calls out. I roll my eyes as I head out to greet him.

“How was your day, dear?” I ask him in my shrillest voice, and he grins.

“Good. How’s Arlowe? You two had coffee today, right?”

“Yeah, she’s good.”

He always remembers what I have on my to do list. He’s so attentive. He’s going to make some girl very happy.

I don’t like that thought. I stomp into the kitchen to starte on dinner.

“Did you take a bath?” he asks when he notices my damp hair.

“Yeah, I was so worn out after work.”

“Long day?” he asks, his big hands massaging my shoulders and I moan.

“Never stop,” I beg.

He chuckles. “Why don’t you go relax and I’ll make dinner tonight?” he offers.

“How are you still single?” I ask him and we both kind of freeze.

I wish that he would answer. I need to know why he’s never tried to date or bring anyone home.

“Let me know if you need any help,” I say as I head into the living room.

“Are we having margaritas tonight or sangria?” He asks and I bite my bottom lip.

“Margaritas.”

I think that I’m going to need something strong to make it through the rest of the night.

CHAPTER THREE

GAVIN

“DO you remOphelia that time that we went to that party at Mitchell’s house?” Ophelia slurs, and I laugh as she starts to giggle on the couch next to me.

“You mean the one that we couldn’t find?” I ask and she laughs harder.

We might have hit the margaritas a little too hard tonight. Both of us are well past tipsy but we’re having too much fun reminiscing to care.

“Those were the best burgers,” she says through her giggles and I laugh.

She’s talking about when we were seventeen and had gone to this guy Mitchell’s house for a party. We had gotten all turned around and after driving for an hour, we had stopped at this little burger stand to ask for directions. We had ended up staying to eat and forgotten all about the party.

Ophelia laughs harder, probably remOpheliaing how we had finally found the party when it was winding down and pretended like we were there the whole time.

She falls into me, gasping for breath and I cradle her in my arms as I laugh with her. It feels so right, so perfect, to have her in my arms like this and I don’t want to let her go.

Her lips are just a breath away from mine and I can’t take it any longer. Maybe I’m just tipsy enough to throw caution to the wind but I know in this moment that I’m going to go for it with Ophelia.

Slowly, so slowly, I lower my head until my lips brush softly against hers. I want to shove my hands in her hair and tilt her mouth up so I can ravish her, but I don’t want to scare her away. So, I take my time instead.

I kiss her mouth again, once, twice, three times. She sighs against my lips, and I can’t take it. I need to deepen the kiss, so I flick my tongue against her bottom lip. She gasps and I take the opportunity to lick into her mouth.

She tastes like the margaritas that we just drank and something that is uniquely Ophelia. I’m instantly addicted. I tease my tongue against hers, coaxing it to come play with mine and she moans against my mouth. Her fingers curl in my shirt, pulling me into her.

Suddenly, she pushes me, causing me to sink further into the couch cushions as she climbs on top of me. She pushes her body against mine like she’s afraid that I’m going to try to get away from her. Not a chance. I’ve never been so turned on in my life.

One hand leaves my shirt, tunneling into my hair and pulling my lips back down to hers. This time she’s the one forcing her tongue into my mouth. My cock grows thick and long in my pants at her aggressive behavior. I’ve never been kissed this passionately in my entire life.

She grinds herself against my erection and I see stars. When she pulls her mouth away from mine, I start to panic.

Is she having second thoughts?

But instead, she surprises me.

“Gavin,” she gasps. “Gavin, please, please I need more.”

I can’t deny her anything. I tug her back down to me and seal her lips with mine. Our tongues tangle together until we’re both breathless.

Ophelia pulls away, taking in a deep breath and I start to kiss my way down her neck.

“More,” she moans as I suck on her pulse point.

Her hands leave my shoulders, and she tugs her shirt over her head. I blink, my brain trying to keep up with what’s happening, and, in that time, she reaches behind her and unhooks her bra.

Then her perfect breasts are bare and right in front of my face.

“Fuck,” I groan as I take them in.

They’re perfect round globes topped with pink nipples and my mouth waters at the sight of them. Ophelia reaches up, cupping her breasts in her hands and my cock jerks in my pants at the sight.

I lean forward, taking one stiff peak into my mouth and Ophelia moans long and low. Hearing that sets me off and I suck harder, gently biting down on her sensitive nipple.

I’m trying to drive her insane and I think that I might be succeeding judging by the sounds that she’s making. Her hands tangle in my hair and she tugs on the strands.

“Please Gavin. Make love to me. I need you.”

I nod and she stands, shimmying out of her pants as I hurry to strip out of my own clothes.

As soon as we’re both naked, she dives back into my lap. I catch her, my lips landing on hers as her fingers tunnel into my hair.

I want to lay her on her back, spread her legs, and eat her to an orgasm but she seems to impatient for that.

She’s straddling me, her hips restless as she moves against me, and my cock is wedged between us. I don’t know if this is heaven or my own personal torture but feeling her wet heat moving against me is the best thing that I’ve ever felt in my life.

When my cock presses against her snug opening, we both slow our movements and I look up into her eyes.

“Are you sure about this, Ophelia?” I ask.

“Absolutely.”

At that word, I flip her over onto her back on the couch and come down over her. My cock nudges against her opening again as she wraps her legs around my waist.

I start to press inside of her, and I have to grit my teeth. She moans as I sink another inch inside of her and I take a deep breath as her legs and pussy tighten around me.

“You feel so fucking good,” I groan, and she nods, her eyes hazy as she stares up at me.

I thrust the rest of the way into her and we both tense as I tear through her virginity.

“You,” I start, and she nods.

“There was never anyone…” she says, trailing off and I nod.

“I’ve never been with anyone either,” I say.

Taking Ophelia’s virginity and knowing that I’m the first one who’s been with her really sobers me up. I stare down at her as she wiggles under me, and I know that I need to try to memorize every detail of tonight because this may be the last time that I’m with her like this.

I pull out of her slowly and she whines, her hips arching up, trying to take me deeper. I thrust back into her, and her hands grip my biceps as I start to fuck her harder.

I can feel an orgasm starting to tingle at the base of my spine and I don’t want to come without kissing her one last time. I lean down, my lips meeting hers and I pound into her. Her legs tighten around my hips, and I know that she’s close to coming too.

My rhythm starts to become erratic as we both race towards are peaks. I reach between us and place two fingers directly on her clit applying just the right amount of pressure to have her tearing her lips away from mine so that she can chant my name as she goes flying over the edge.

Feeling her come on my cock triggers my own orgasm and I shout her name as I come deep inside of her.

I hold myself up on my arms so that I don’t crush her as we both try to catch our breaths. I can’t resist giving her a gentle kiss before I slowly start to pull out of her. Ophelia gives me a sleepy smile and I brush some hair away from her face.

I head into the bathroom to grab a washcloth and by the time I come back into the living room, Ophelia is fast asleep. I smile as I clean her up and carry her into my bedroom. I don’t know why I pick my room over hers but when she blinks her eyes open as I lay her down and smiles at me, it feels perfect.

“Ready for round two?” She whispers and my cock starts to harden once more.

“Fuck yes,” I say as I climb onto the bed with her.

She laughs as our lips meet once more.

CHAPTER FOUR

OPHELIA

“UGHH,” I groan as I roll over in Gavin’s bed the next morning with my head pounding.

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” Gavin says, and I blink my eyes open to see him fully dressed and tugging on his shoes.

“What are you doing?” I mumble.

“Rule just called. I need to go help him with a job. I’ll see you tonight though, okay?”

I nod, my head revolting at the movement, and he gives me one last smile before he disappears out of the bedroom door.

I roll onto my back once he’s gone and stare up at the ceiling. I can’t help but wonder if there really is a job or if he was just desperate to get away from me after last night.

He was acting normal when he left but what does that mean? That he wants things to go back to the way they were before last night? Or that we should just pretend like it never happened?

If he wanted us to be together, then wouldn’t he have kissed me goodbye? Or said something besides morning?

I don’t know how long I lie in his bed and spiral about what’s going to happen between us now. Once the sun hits my eyes, making me feel like my head is going to explode, I crawl out of bed to get ready for my day.

I down two aspirin and about a gallon of coffee as I get ready. It helps a little with my headache but not with my internal freak out. I think I’m going to need help for that.

I call Arlowe. I know that she’ll be up early since she always is.

“Hey,” she answers on the second ring.

“I slept with Gavin last night,” I blurt out.

Stunned silence greets me and I start to panic more.

Oh my gosh, did I just ruin everything between Gavin and I?

“It’s about time!” Arlowe yells and I almost drop my phone in shock.

“What if I just messed everything up?”

“Why would you think that? Did he say something? Is he being weird?” She asks and I can hear her moving somewhere quieter.

“No, well, I don’t know. He said that Rule called him for a job and he left before I was really even awake.”

“Well, there really is a job because Wes got called in by Rule too,” she says and I start to relax.

I didn’t really think that Gavin had lied to me. He never has before.

“You think that any weirdness was just in my head then?”

“Yes! Gavin is crazy about you. He’d still be wrapped around you in bed if Rule hadn’t called. I’m sure of it.”

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. She’s probably right. He left so early and I’m sure that it would have been different if we had woken up naturally together.

“You’re right,” I tell her.

“I know I am! Now you just need to sit him down and tell him that you’re in love with him. Then all of this confusion and stress can be behind the both of you.”

I know that she’s right. I mean whether I’m ready for that talk or not, it needs to happen now that Gavin and I have slept together. There’s no going back to just being friends now.

I wish that Rule hadn’t called. Now I’m going to be stressed and on edge all day until I see Gavin again and can get a better handle on how to behave around him now.

“I’ve got to get to work but I’ll talk to you later,” I tell Arlowe.

“Alright, I’m here if you need anything,” she says.

“Thanks. Talk to you later.”

I hang up with her and start to head for the front door. I can’t help but pause outside of Gavin’s bedroom though and take one last look at the rumpled sheets and blankets on the bed.

Part of me still can’t believe that I slept with Gavin last night and that it was even better than I had ever imagined. It’s almost easier to think that I just dreamt it.

It’s not though.

I take one last look, breathing in the scent of Gavin before I head out the door and head to work.

CHAPTER FIVE

GAVIN

“WE JUST HAD to get a job at five o’clock in the morning,” I grumble as I walk into Rule’s place ahead of Wes.

“Did I wake you from a good dream?” Rule asks, sliding a cup of coffee across the counter toward me.

“No, but you pulled me from bed with Ophelia,” I say and both Rule and Wesley choke on their sip of coffee.

“Fucking finally!” Wesley shouts and I grin.

Rule claps me on the back, giving me a wide grin and I laugh.

“So, you finally told her that you’re in love with her?” He asks and I pause.

“Not quite.”

“What does that mean?” Wesley asks as we grab our coffees and head to the offices at the back of the compound.

“We got a little tipsy last night during taco Tuesday and one thing led to another.”

“And you wound up in bed together without telling her that you’ve been obsessed with her since kindergarten?” Wesley asks.

“It didn’t come up,” I say primly as I take a seat the computer.

“When are you going to tell her then?” Rule asks.

“Tonight.”

“Good. Now, let’s get to work,” Rule says, and I log into my computer.

“What’s the case?” Wesley asks.

“Missing kid.”

We all get to work, checking traffic lights and other cameras that we have access to for the missing child.

“I’ve got them. They were taken in a gray SUV, an older model Ford Bronco,” I tell them and they look over my shoulder at the grainy video that I was able to find.

“Can you track them?” Rule asks.

“What intersection was that at?” Wesley asks, already getting back to work.

“Maple and Fourth,” I tell them.

We get back to work, the only sound that of our keyboards as we type. I was annoyed to be called in, I wanted to stay in bed with Ophelia, but I can’t be mad when it’s about a missing kid.

“Got it,” Wesley calls and I stop the video that I was watching to look at his screen.

“I’ll call it in,” Rule says as he steps out of the office.

I clap Wesley on the back before I stand and stretch my sore back. Rule, Wesley, and I met when we were in the military together. People used to think that we were brothers since we all have the same dark brown hair and tall, lanky build. Wesley and I even have the same dark blue eyes.

We became fast friends while we were deployed overseas and when Wesley talked about getting out and heading home, Rule and I joined him.

Wesley went to work on his family’s ranch, but Rule started a bodyguard and protection company and hired me on. It’s a small town so most of our work comes from the local police departments who aren’t quite equipped to handle cybercrimes.

I’m not complaining. It’s a great job and the pay is decent. Usually, the hours are pretty good too. Plus, I get to hang out with my friends all day.

“How are you going to break the news to Ophelia?” Wesley asks me.

“I mean, she must have guessed by now, right? So, I’m just going to sit her down and tell her that I love her.”

“Huh,” he says, leaning back in his chair, running his hands through his dark brown hair, and I frown.

“What?” I ask.

“I just thought that you would do it more romantically,” he says.

I pause. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I should do something bigger. Light some candles, get her some flowers or something.

I pull out my phone, noticing that it’s already after eleven and I know that Ophelia is still at work. I pull up our texts and send her a new one.

Gavin: How about I cook us dinner tonight?

I hit send and start to make a mental grocery list as I wait for her response.

Ophelia: I’m never going to say no to food.

Gavin: Huli huli chicken and rice?

Ophelia: Yes please!

I tuck my phone away as Rule comes back in the room.

“They’ve got a patrol car nearby. I’m just waiting for them to confirm,” he says.

We nod and I follow them into the kitchen where Rule makes a new pot of coffee.

“I’m going to make her dinner,” I tell them as we wait for the pot to brew.

“What?” Rule asks.

“When I tell Ophelia that I love her. I’m going to make her dinner and buy her flowers. Do it all romantic like,” I tell them and Wesley just grins.

“Good luck, man. It’s about damn time you two stopped dancing around each other,” Rule says as the coffee stops brewing.

He fills all of our cups up and I grab my cup.

“I know. I can’t wait to be with her. For real.”

Wesley and Rule both smile. They know how badly I’ve wanted to be with Ophelia. They know what tonight means for me.

“So, maybe don’t call me in early tomorrow,” I suggest and Rule laughs.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

CHAPTER SIX

OPHELIA

I DON’T KNOW why but getting that message from Gavin put all of my worries to rest. If he was texting me like normal and offering to make my favorite dinner, then that had to be a good sign.

“Bye, Andrew!” I call, waving at the little boy and I let out a deep breath as he disappears into his mother’s car.

He wasn’t so bad today, or maybe I was just grateful to have him there as a distraction from my racing thoughts about last night.

I head back to my room to clean up and gather my belongings. We painted today so it takes me a while to get all the tables and brushes washed. I have a staff meeting today and I head into the breakroom, smiling at a few people as I take a seat in the back.

The meeting is boring, and I spend most of the time dreaming about what’s going to happen between Gavin and I tonight. By the time that I’m done with my meeting and heading back to my car, it’s already after four. I know that Gavin must be home by now and I give myself a pep talk as I head home.

When I pull into the driveway, I park next to Gavin’s car and take a deep breath before I head inside.

I’m not expecting what I see when I do.

There are flowers all over the place. Candles are lit and the flames flicker at me from every available surface, some even dangerously close to the flowers.

“Hey, you’re home,” Gavin says as he pokes his head out of the kitchen.

“Yeah… what is all of this?” I ask him and he gives me a sheepish grin.

“I wanted to do something special for tonight,” he tells me, and I bite back a smile.

“What’s the occasion?” I ask as I make my way across the living room.

I look into the kitchen and laugh when I see boxes of chocolate stacked up on one end of the counter and the rice and chicken for dinner on the stove.

“You’re burning that,” I tell him, and he hurries over to flip the chicken.

The scent of soy sauce and pineapple hits me and my stomach growls. I skipped lunch, too anxious to eat much of anything so I had just snacked on some pretzels.

“The food is done,” Gavin announces, and I smile as I help him dish it up onto two plates.

We carry everything over to the kitchen table and I’m about to dig in when I glance at Gavin. He looks so… nervous, all of a sudden.

“Is everything alright?” I ask him.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” he admits quietly.

“Alright,” I say, letting my fork rest on the edge of my plate.

“It’s about last night,” he starts and my stomach cramps at his words.

“What about it?”

“I… I need it to happen again.”

“Oh.”

Is that all he wants? Just sex with me?

“Ophelia, I…. I love you,” he blurts out and my stomach drops along with my jaw.

“What?” I stammer.

“I love you. I have since we were kids. Since the day that we met actually.”

“Really?” I ask him and he nods.

I watch as he swallows hard and nods again.

“Yeah. I’ve wanted to tell you for years, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t risk our friendship or alienating you. I need you, Ophelia.”

Tears sting the back of my eyes and I blink a few times to clear them.

“I wish that you had told me earlier,” I whisper, and he stands from his chair and drops down to one knee next to mine.

“I’m sorry, Ophelia. I just couldn’t lose you.”

“You wouldn’t have. I’ve loved you for years too,” I tell him, and he cradles my face in his hands.

“Say it again,” he begs me, and I smile.

“I love you, Gavin.”

His lips land on mine and I wrap my arms around him, clinging to him as our mouths mold together. Gavin licks his lip and his tongue swipes against mine. I let out a breathy moan as our lips finally meet.

The kiss is slow and deep, our lips moving against each other as I press against him more firmly. Gavin relaxes into the kiss, his hands loosening on my hips and slowly sliding up my back. My own hands tangle in his hair and I cautiously slide my tongue along his soft lips until he opens under me. I slide my tongue into his mouth and his own comes out to twist around mine.

Gavin moans as we grow more comfortable and soon, he’s the one who is pushing his tongue into my mouth. He backs me up, down the short hallway and into his room. I know without opening my eyes because it smells so much like him. We break apart and I reach for my clothes right away, stripping off my clothes in a hurry. Gavin is on the same page, and I smile as I look over to see Gavin tugging off his clothes too.

We reach for each other at the same time, and both go tumbling down onto the mattress. I giggle as he laughs and rolls onto his back, pulling me with him so that I’m sprawled on top of him. I can’t stop moving as I feel his thick cock between my legs.

We’re rocking against each other slowly and I can feel more of my wetness coating both of us. Gavin’s cock is hard and laying against his belly between us and I’m desperate to feel him inside of me.

I break our kiss and we both take in big gulps of air as I slip off the bed and stand between his legs. The bed is the perfect height for me to suck him off while I stand by the side. I grip his boxers and Gavin and I lock eyes as I pull them down his legs. They drop to the floor, and I get my first look at Gavin’s dick. Or the first one that I can clearly remember.

It’s large, with a bulbous red head. Thick veins run up the underside and as I stare, little pearls appear on the tip. I lick my lips as I step closer to the mattress and bend over him, licking up the drops from the tip. Gavin groans as I swirl my tongue around him before I open my mouth wide and swallow down as much of him as I can.

I can’t even take half of him, and I wonder if I’m doing something wrong. I’ve never given a blowjob before, but I can’t imagine that anyone would be able to take all of Gavin in their mouth. I wonder how I’m going to fit him inside of me.

I bob my head as I take as much of his length as I can into my mouth. Gavin’s hands are curled in the sheets and his body tenses as I work him over. He groans as I pull him out of my mouth and lick my tongue up and down his length. I bring my hand up, wrapping it around the base of him before I take him back in my mouth. I work my mouth and hand in unison until Gavin is tensed under me.

“Ophelia, I think- I- I’m going to come.” He says as his cock swells in my mouth.

I hold my breath, taking as much of him in my mouth while my hand strokes the rest of him. I watch as his stomach tenses and he groans as his salty come splashes into my mouth. I swallow down his release and my hand keeps stroking him as he starts to come down from his orgasm.

Gavin pants and his eyes are heavy-lidded as he stares up at me. Gavin groans as his eyes lock on my chest and I grin as I see the lust for me written across his face.

Before I can try to crawl back up onto the bed, Gavin is reaching down and pulling me up. He rolls us so that I land on the mattress underneath him. He digs his fingers into my blonde locks as his mouth meets mine, pushing his tongue into my mouth and for a brief second, I wonder if he can taste himself on my lips.

He pulls away from my mouth and kisses down my neck to my breasts, taking one of my pert nipples in his mouth and sucking gently on the sensitive bud. His fingers trail down my arms before he starts to toy with my other nipple. I moan and arch into his touch as he applies a little more pressure. He explores my body, taking his cues on what I like from the sounds I make.

He runs his hands down my body, toying with the waistband on my lace panties. Anticipation curls through me as I wait for him to strip them off me. He hesitates, looking up at me and when I nod, he tugs them over my hips and down my legs. His eyes trail back over my legs until they land on my wet pussy.

Gavin tugs me closer to the edge of the bed and spreads my legs wide before he shoulders his way between them. He kisses my stomach, right below my belly button before he trails his tongue down to my drenched core. I lean up on my elbows, watching as he brings his hand up to spread my lips. My hard pearl peeks out as he spreads me wide, and I moan as he leans in and I can feel his warm breath on my sensitive flesh.

He leans in even closer and takes a long slow lick up my center. I moan louder and collapse back on the mattress as he settles between my legs and starts to explore my drenched folds. He licks and nips his way along my folds before he finds my clit and wraps his lips around my hard nub.

His tongue rubs over my clit and I can squeeze my eyes shut as I feel his mouth on me while his 5 o’clock shadow scrapes against my inner thighs. The dual sensations only fuel my desire and I rock my hips up into his face. Gavin buries his face further in my pussy and I break apart when I look down and see his brown head of hair buried between my legs while he eats me like a man starved.

I come on his face, squirming under him as he continues to lick me. I expect him to kiss his way up my body then and fuck me but instead, he just buries his tongue back in pussy and keeps licking me. I’m already sensitive from the last orgasm and it doesn’t take long before I’m on the edge again.

He dips his tongue lower through my folds until it’s just inside my hole. His finger spread my lips wider while his thumb comes down to rub circles around my clit. He pushes down harder on the stiff button as he pushes his tongue further inside of me. Just like that, I’m splintering apart once again. He licks up all of my cream before he looks up from my pussy.

I’m panting and flushed as I lay on the bed. Gavin climbs up on the mattress beside me, picking me up in his arms and moving me to the center of the bed. I spread my legs wide as he maneuvers to settle between them once again. He rubs his length up and down my slit while he looks down at me.

“Gavin. Please don’t tease me anymore. I need you.”

His eyes darken but he moves so that his cock is settled at my hole. He takes a deep breath before he starts to push into me. He’s big and I’m small and the feeling of him stretching me around his length isn’t pleasant. I look up at Gavin and his face is strained like he’s holding back. I take a deep breath, trying to relax as he rocks into me.

Gavin thrusts into me, holding himself still inside of me while I get used to the new feeling. I’m still so tight which I guess shouldn’t be a surprise since I’ve only had sex with him for the first time just last night.

After a minute, any soreness is gone, and I look up at him. He pushes into me again then and finally, after what feels like minutes, he’s seated all of the way in me.

Gavin and I rock together slowly as we learn each other’s bodies. My hands grip his biceps as he starts to thrust into me harder. I’m sure that my nails are digging into him but the feeling of him rutting into me is too good and I can’t bring myself to care. Besides, I don’t hear Gavin complaining.

I wrap my legs around his waist, meeting his thrusts with my own. Gavin leans down, taking one of my nipples in his mouth and I arch up into him. His teeth scrape against me and I snap. I moan as my pussy clamps down around Gavin’s thrusting length and I feel him start to come with me. My fingers dig into his arms as my pussy massages the come from Gavin’s cock.

We pull apart, both collapsing back onto the mattress, completely spent. I cuddle closer to Gavin, resting my head on his chest as he wraps his arms around me.

I feel Gavin move and then a soft blanket is draped over both of us. His lips move against my head, and I smile as I finally fall asleep.

“I love you, Ophelia,” he whispers, and I smile.

“I love you more.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

GAVIN

Five Years Later

“I’VE GOT to go into work,” I whisper in Ophelia’s ear, and she groans and rolls over in bed.

“It’s Clark’s graduation today,” she reminds me, and I nod.

“I won’t miss it,” I promise her.

She tilts her chin up and I smile as I lean down to kiss her. Ruby starts to cry, and I glance at the baby monitor.

“I’ll change her diaper and bring her into you before I go,” I whisper, and she smiles as she moves to sit up.

“What’s the job?” She asks.

“Missing kid,” I tell her, and she frowns.

She hates the kid’s jobs just as much as I do.

“Good luck,” she tells me, and I smile.

I head into our daughter’s room, smiling down at my little baby girl as she cries up at me.

“Morning, baby. How did you sleep?”

She stares up at me, her cries subsiding and I scoop her up in my arms and carry her over to the changing table.

“Mommy put you in the button pajamas to mess with me,” I tell Ruby and she gurgles up at me. “She thinks she’s funny.”

“Actually, I just haven’t done laundry yet and all of the zipper ones are dirty,” Ophelia says as she comes into the nursery.

She pushes me out of the way and grabs a onesie from the drawer.

“Let’s get you changed. Daddy has to get to work,” Ophelia says, nudging me with her elbow toward the door.

“See you at the ceremony.”

She nods and I kiss her cheek before I head for the door.

Ophelia and I got married a month after we admitted our feelings. We found out on our honeymoon that she was pregnant with our son, Clark. We waited about a few years before we tried for another baby and Ruby was born five months ago.

Ophelia is convinced that two is enough for us and I’m just happy if everyone else is happy and healthy.

I head out to my car and hop in, heading toward Rule’s place. We’re still working at the compound that he used to call home before he met his wife, Harvie, and they moved out to the country.

Our offices are still there, and we converted his old bedroom to be another office. Business has grown in the last five years. Other nearby police stations have reached out to us for help, and we still get the occasional bodyguard job from a politician or celebrity that’s passing through.

“Thank for the ride,” Wesley says as I pull up in front of his house and he hops in.

“Not a problem. Rule is already at the office, right?” I ask and he nods.

“Are you ready for graduation day?” He asks me as we head into town and I smile.

“It’s crazy that they’re already four.”

“I know. Where has the time gone?”

Wesley, Rule and I all have kids in the same preschool class and today is their graduation day. I still can’t believe that my little baby is about to be in kindergarten.

“I promised Ophelia that I would be there,” I tell him as we pull into the compound.

“We will. Harvie will kill Rule if he misses it, so I know that he’ll make sure that we’re out in time,” Wesley assures me.

We head into the office to get to work, and I smile as I sit as my desk and take in the pictures of my wife and kids.

I spent decades longing for Ophelia, but the wait was worth it. She’s my perfect match. We were meant to be, and I wish that I had been braver and had told her how I felt when were kids. I didn’t have to waste so much time but if I had told her when we were kids, I never would have left to join the military and I never would have met Wesley and Rule.

I wouldn’t change a thing about my life, and I know that Ophelia wouldn’t either.

“Alright, guys. Let’s get to work,” Rule says, and I take one last look at my family before I open my computer and do as he asks.

Want to read Rule and Wyatt’s story? Then check out Rule’s Exception and Claimed By The Cowboy today!

About the Author

USA Today Bestselling Author Shaw Hart writes contemporary and new adult romance. She loves writing instalove romances that always end in happily ever after’s.

She lives in a constant state of motion, chasing after her two children and three dogs. Shaw enjoys the simple things in life, like spending time with her family and friends. When she’s not doing that, she’s reading romance books, watching stand up comedies or crime TV shows.

She’s also a Pinterest addict, dog lover, tea snob, and a wannabe yogi. Oh, and she’s one half of the paranormal romance duo, Skye Alder and also writes small town romance books as Rebecca Wilder.

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LOVE STORM

BLESSED BY THE GODDESS #1

SYDNEY ST JAMES

The greatest happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved; loved for ourselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves.

VICTOR HUGO

KIRRA

THE GREEN CLOUDS rolled on the horizon, signaling a wild magic storm heading toward shore. It’s been two—almost three years—since the last one hit us. The old timers in the tavern have been regaling people all day with the stories. Nightmares are more like it.

Already I can feel the wild magic calling to me. The seductive whispers want me to shed this human skin, to ride the tide of the storm in my true form. It’s tempting, but I know what also comes with the storms.

I glance at the vacant stool.

This is when Lioria would sneak back in with some juicy gossip or to slide me one of her coins. The other girls never share their tips, but Lioria was the best of us.

My gaze strays to the long scratch that I’ve tried buffing out of the wooden floor. It’s the only reminder that she was ever here, and the best friend I ever had out of all my lifetimes. Even when I try my best to fit in, it’s as though people can sense the wild magic contained within me.

The High Demon Lords who took a liking to my friend must have sensed what I am, but they never said a word to me. Eden is an island nation of mostly humans. The magical creatures that live here must obey strict rules. Seeing as I existed here before the humans and the inn is built atop what was once my home, I’ve never bothered to ask permission to continue living.

Do they know what Lioria is? She’s not human. In all the time I knew her, she never appeared to realize it, either. But the High Demon Lords will. Eventually. And then, who knows?

I dry my hands and step out of the kitchen into the courtyard behind the tavern where the big stew pot is waiting for dinner. It’s too warm and there are too many mouths to feed tonight for me to cook inside.

Lightning arcs across the sky in the distance. I hold my hand up to shield my eyes and peer at the horizon. There are a few ships making their way to the harbor to escape the storm and I have to wonder, will they come, too?

I’m unsure whether I want them to come or not. I know what they want from me, and it’s the one thing I refuse to give. I cannot start the cycle over again. I will not.

LEON

THE MAGIC of the storm sings through my veins. It’s calling me to dive into the water and be one with the storm. The last time one of these happened, we were clear on the western side of the main continent. And before that was the night Kirra broke our hearts.

Mundi paces back and forth with no reserve. He shoves his hand through his short, pale hair. I bite the inside of my mouth to keep from telling him to stop. The movement only makes the black strands stand out more. He’s still sore about his hair and I don’t blame him. I’ve warned him a hundred times to keep clear of the nets, but he never fucking listens. It’ll be his tail or fronds or tentacles next time. And those don’t grow back.

Tang climbs the stairs to where we’re watching the deck activity. He’s in his trousers and nothing else, skin gleaming from the bath he no doubt just took in an effort to tidy himself up. His long hair is braided, and in the low light it’s almost impossible to tell his hair is the darkest blue and not black. He’s taken time to secure bits of colorful shells into the plait.

We’re all trying to show off a little. It’s our nature to be flashy when attracting a mate.

He reaches out and grabs a handful of Mundi’s hair, practically bending him backward before crushing their mouths together. If my nerves weren’t wound so tight, I might grin or trap Mundi between us.

It’s the instinctual urge to breed. Many creatures like us who were born from wild magic can only procreate during the storms.

Mundi shoves Tang back with a snarl and I smirk.

Tang chuckles and swipes his hand over the drop of blood on his lip.

There’s only one creature we want tonight, and we’ve come ashore to claim her. Once and for all.

The three of us gravitated together when we were still fry. It was natural for us to bond, though we always knew something—or someone—was missing. Kirra wasn’t what we expected.

One of the deckhands shouts something before bounding off the ship and onto the pier.

I sigh and roll my eyes. The crew always forget themselves during the storm. They’ll make their way into town, get a few drinks, buy some trinkets to offer prospective mates, then dive into the sea when no one is looking. By the time the storm arrives, the sea will be rocking with a whole other kind of energy.

I wish them well.

Tang glances at me. “Are we ready?”

I don’t bother looking at him. “Put a shirt on. She’ll say something if you don’t.”

Tang rolls his eyes and produces a shirt that must have been hanging from his belt.

“She’s still here, isn’t she?” Mundi continues to pace. His new boots squeak with each step and the light catches on the brass buttons marching down his jacket.

We’ve all shown some effort in our own way.

My gaze rises to the tavern sitting up the hill. It’s a large inn, and it bears Kirra’s namesake. The Silver Roo. I still get goosebumps when I think of the first time I spied her. Most wild magic creatures are unusual. We are pieces of nature blended with magic and given life. But she is a work of art.

“She’ll be there,” I say.

We join the others headed into town and before I’m ready, we’re standing in front of the inn. Awnings have been rolled out and more tables set up to allow those daring enough to sit outdoors and watch the storm. As tempting as that is, our intended is inside.

The last time we were here, she told us to never come back. But I’ve always followed my heart. It’s what led me to Mundi and Tang. And our hearts have brought us back to Kirra.

A pair of old men sit at the prime, long table in full view of the kitchen passthrough. It’s rude, but I plop down next to the bigger man with only the barest amount of space between us. Mundi and Tang squeeze in on the other side, grinning at our table companions with wild abandon. They’re almost drunk on the crackle of magic in the air.

I peer at the passthrough and wait.

At first, it’s the curve of an elbow and a white sleeve rolled up to reveal strong forearms. She flits out of view. Tang speaks to a serving woman and procures drinks for us, but I need to see her. She makes me wait, then only appearing with her back to me as she tends something across the kitchen. Her hair is wound into a plaited crown, like all the other women who work here. Sweat glistens on her dark skin as she hustles out of sight again.

I sigh and blindly reach for my drink. I’m surprised when it’s spiced tea, the kind that’s only found here in Suncrest. I always forget how pleasant it is going down.

As I roll the flavors around on my tongue, there she is. The passthrough frames her perfectly and just like the first time, my heart stops and sighs.

Kirra is a tall woman with wide shoulders and a body made to worship. Her skin is dark this lifetime and I like her this way. The cool tones of her skin will look beautiful underwater. She’s formed like a fertility goddess, all curves and bounty.

We haven’t been able to sway her before, but we were younger and stupid then. Maybe this time it will be different?

KIRRA

THE STORM HAS SET in fully by the time I’ve completed my work. My skin itches from the constant weight of eyes on me. I haven’t allowed myself to look, but I know they are there. And if I hadn’t known, the serving girls would have fixed that. The last hour they were in and out, teasing me about taking home the man that won’t take his eyes off me.

I can feel Leon’s will and we haven’t spoken yet.

The rain beats against the shield of air I cast around my body. Normally, I wouldn’t indulge in this. It’s too risky if someone realizes my magic is different from theirs. But I know I’ll have gentleman callers tonight. After a day of working in the kitchen, I’m not keen on looking like a drowned calf. Not when those three look like that.

Gods, why are they all so gorgeous? It’s not fair.

I let myself into my cottage in the older part of town. My human family likes to play at being upset I’ve moved out on my own, but we all know it’s a relief. I’m a constant reminder of what they lost, though they never blamed me. They’ve kept my secret, for which I’m grateful, and I’m received warmly whenever I come by.

There’s a scent in the air that’s different. It brings to mind the scent of rain on open water.

I don’t move. I don’t speak. I stand there in darkness and wait.

One of them is here.

Tang.

Just thinking his name makes me shiver.

Now I’ve stood here too long. I can practically hear him laughing at me, and I am not amused.

Determined to brush this aside, I step out of the small foyer and into the cozy sitting room. The curtains block the window, but every so often lightning flashes enough to see by.

These men do not get to simply waltz in on the wings of a storm and upend my life. I’ve just spent the whole day cooking twice as much with no advanced warning. I’m exhausted.

Something thumps on the wooden floor behind me and, despite knowing better, panic seizes me. Before I can stop myself, I’ve hastened my pace. I hear them now, heavy footsteps right behind me while something breathes on the back of my neck. Strong, solid arms wrap around my waist and a yelp of surprise bursts out of me.

I hear Tang’s chuckle then, dark and sensual, as he buries his face against the side of my neck. I’m so gross from the kitchen I cringe. But Tang is not human.

His hands begin to rove, stroking across my stomach and hips, up my sides. My skin begins to flush as heat floods my body. I’m not immune to the storm, but it does not drive me the same way it does them.

He groans and tugs me back to his chest.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispers.

The words are on the tip of my tongue. I’ve missed them, too. The day I met the three of them was the day I realized I wasn’t alone. That there are other creatures like me in this world. We are few, but we exist.

Tang turns me in his embrace. I’m stronger than he is, and yet I make no move to stop him. I don’t want to.

He presses his brow to mine and my lips tingle in anticipation. There is no sensual dance toward pleasure with him. Tang is a man who does as he wishes.

But the kiss doesn’t come.

“How about some light?” he whispers.

Tang snaps his fingers and wild magic crackles across the room. The candles flare and the fireplace blazes with heat. He steps back, allowing me to see the difference a few years have made. His hair is longer and darker. Bits of treasure are threaded through the beautiful braid. It’s different. I’ve never seen this from Tang and I have to wonder, is the decoration significant?

“Do you ever buy yourself new clothes?” I reach out and smooth the threadbare fabric of his shirt. It’s so thin that I can see his dusky brown nipples through it.

“Would you promise to take them off me if I did?”

I roll my eyes, because I should have expected that answer.

He grins and backs me against the wall separating the sitting room from the kitchen. I don’t fight him. I don’t want to. I thought losing Lioria wouldn’t be that bad. We were only friends. But I’ve been missing a part of myself since she left, and it’s only been days. I’m so lonely.

This storm almost seems made for me. As if wild magic knew I needed my men. But they’ll leave with the tide tomorrow.

Tang takes my hands in his and guides them up over my head. Unlike Leon, Tang only wants to pretend to be the dominant.

“I’ve missed you, melena.”

I shiver. It’s not quite a word of power that would command wild magic, but it’s close. My heart beats faster and my knees go weak. After all this time, all my refusals, I’m still precious to them. I still have a place in their hearts.

He leans in, knowing better than to wait for words I’ll never say, and brushes his lips over mine. I turn my head, following his mouth, but he’s set on teasing me. Frustrated, I tug on his hold. He chuckles before giving in and tasting my lips. Heat curls low in my belly and I strain against his hold in an attempt to get closer.

Tang slides his thigh between my legs and keeps me pinned there while he makes love to my mouth. It’s like each time we meet, we pick up exactly where we left off. It’s seamless.

How many other women do they visit?

I banish the thought. What difference should it make? I won’t give them what they want, but we can enjoy what we have.

Tang’s tongue teases mine and I shove the riot of thoughts away. I moan as he bites down on my lower lip, sending a zing of awareness through my body.

“Will you let me be greedy?” he asks against my lips.

My clothes are too constricting. There’s too much material in my skirt. The chemise is damp and uncomfortable against my skin. My head is swimming from the onslaught of heightened awareness brought on by the storm. My body aches with it.

“What is it you want?” I ask.

A slow grin spreads over Tang’s face. “I want to taste all of you before they do.”

“Who am I to deny you?” I don’t recognize that purr of a voice.

He pins me to the wall, showing me some of his strength. “You’re too good to me, melena.”

I gasp as the wild magic seems to dance across my skin with the endearment.

Tang drops to his knees and shoves the skirts up. I feel the sharp edge of his claws as he shreds my under clothes and tosses them away. I clutch the material to my stomach and wish I could see him better. Instead, I admire the bits of coral and shell artfully arranged in his hair.

What does it mean?

Then I feel him. His fingers stroke my folds. Thanks to the magic and the weather, my body is primed for him. The press of his tongue still makes me gasp with how he twists and turns inside of me. I push up on tiptoe, despite not wanting to get away. It’s instinctual as he drives me toward a precipice. The storm outside is beginning to rage. With each clash of thunder, my sex clenches tighter around him. I whimper as I rock against his fingers and mouth, giving into my baser instincts. A bolt of lightning illuminates the whole room as I tip over the precipice. I throw my head back and groan my release even as my legs go weak.

Tang catches me as my knees give out and he pulls me to sit across his lap against the wall.

“I wish you could accept us as easily as you accept our attention,” he says.

I’m still a little foggy from the orgasm, but his words strike a bitter chord in me. I lift my head from his shoulder and frown at him.

“I accept you as you are, Tang. I’ve never asked you to be anything else.”

He gives me a wry smile. There’s a flash of something—anger? Pain?—in his eyes, but it’s gone just as fast. “Have you, though?”

“Did you braid your hair prettily, hoping it would change my mind?”

He bows his head ever so slightly, but there’s no mistaking the tinge of pink on his cheeks.

The hair is significant. It must be some sort of mating ritual.

They haven’t listened and they never will.

All at once, the moment is spoiled. There will be no further pleasure tonight. Not with them. Not for me. I will not be swayed from my path. Don’t they understand?

I scramble to my feet, using my greater strength to pull out of Tang’s hold as the front door opens on a gust of wind.

Leon enters, followed by Mundi. Like me, they must have used a shield because their clothes are dry.

I stalk away from them into the kitchen that is my domain and grab a kettle. If we won’t be fucking, there will be talking.

“What did you do?” I hear Leon say.

All night, I’ve been avoiding Leon’s gaze. I want them all, but I can’t be what they need.

I put the kettle on the small stove and light it with magic while pulling down mugs, sugar, and tea.

The floorboards creak under Leon’s feet as he dares come closer.

“I’m sorry, Kirra,” Tang calls out from the safety of the doorway.

I’m too focused on Leon, slowly lumbering closer, to give a damn about Tang.

Leon reaches around me and slides his hands down my arms, ceasing my busying motions.

“Why must you always box me in? Why can’t one of you have some damn manners?” I say with far too much anger.

“Because you are a wild thing and you’d run from me, otherwise,” Leon says in that low rumble of his.

My legs tremble and my sex clenches. I don’t know if I can have them near and not be with them.

“I’m not in the mood tonight. You’d best go find someone else.” It’s the kindest thing I can do. Let them go find some fish-assed girlfriend who will let them breed her.

Leon turns me in his arms and pulls me away from the counter. “There is no one else, Kirra.”

He’s said it before, but I would be an idiot to believe him.

My gaze lands on Mundi hovering in the doorway and I gasp. “Your hair!”

He ducks his head and runs a hand over his short, nearly white hair. “Yeah.”

Leon lets me go and I cross to examine the short strands. Where Tang is all barely controlled strength and Leon pure dominance, Mundi is grace. He’s built lighter than the other two. And where some part of me always feels stalked by Tang or Leon, Mundi only ever makes me smile.

“Did it hurt?” I ask.

He rolls his eyes. “My pride.”

I chuckle and decide not to ask.

They’re a bit like underwater peacocks. This isn’t the first time I’ve noticed. It’s just different this time. Or maybe I feel different.

One side of Mundi’s mouth hikes up. “Are they still making you do the same awful thing with your hair?”

I shrug. “Mistress likes it. It keeps it out of the way.”

Mundi shakes his head, takes my hand, and pulls me into the sitting room. “Leon, mind the kettle, will you?”

Tang is waiting for us in front of the fire. He’s already pushed my chairs back and thrown the pillows on the ground. They don’t much like human furniture.

Mundi sets a large pouch on the floor and kneels, muttering to himself.

Tang catches my hand and brings it to his lips for a kiss. “It’s the storm. You know what it does to us.”

I nod and decide to let it go. What use is it being angry with them when I only see them once a year, at most? This is the longest I’ve gone without seeing them since the beginning, and I don’t want to fight.

Mundi lowers to the carpet and smiles up at me. His pitch black eyes hold so much joy. I wish I could feel some of that.

He holds his hand up. “Kirra?”

“Why don’t I make you comfortable first, hm?” Tang asks at my shoulder.

“Wait. Tang!”

Before I can stop him, his claws have sliced through the ties holding my dress together. The material gapes and sags. I plant my hands on my hips and glare at him.

“Are you going to fix it?” I demand.

Tang grins back at me, and I see the pointed ends of his teeth. “I just did.”

I huff and push the dress down, then free myself from the corset.

Thanks to Tang’s earlier attentions, I’m only wearing my chemise and stockings. In this company, it’s honestly surprising they’re wearing clothes at all.

I lower myself to the carpet and Mundi presses his chest to my back. His embrace is comforting. It’s the sort of hug I want after a frustrating day.

He presses his nose to my neck and inhales, just like Tang did.

“Mm, did he make you come before we got here?” Mundi asks. I can hear his grin.

Tang stretches out on his side, keeping far from the fire. “I’m insulted you have to ask, Mundi. Are you going to make me prove myself to you? I wonder—”

“That is not what I meant,” Mundi says in a rush.

I glance back at his bright red face and chuckle.

Tang walks his fingers across the bit of bare knee. “It’s like he doesn’t remember that night I got bored and decided to tie him to the prow and see just how well he could paint the ship before anyone noticed.”

Mundi huffs, but doesn’t comment while he begins the process of freeing my curls.

I close my eyes as he runs the wide-tooth comb through my hair. Absently, I recognize the same carved comb he’s used on me before. It’s silvered with age until it’s quite pretty. “That seems rather cruel, Tang.”

Tang scoffs at me. “I’m the one who had a serious case of lockjaw for a week.”

I chuckle while listening to Leon move about the kitchen. He hardly makes any noise, and if my hearing wasn’t unnaturally good, I wouldn’t hear a thing.

“He makes it sound like he was so selfless,” Mundi grumbles.

“You didn’t complain.”

I turn my head and press a kiss to his cheek. His fingers are still in my curls and he turns me ever so slightly before stealing a kiss.

“Mind if I try something in your hair?” he whispers, almost shyly.

Is Mundi offering this out of kindness, or is this a ritual I know nothing about?

I can’t say no to Mundi the way I can the other two.

“I trust you,” I tell him.

He takes something out of his bag. Whatever it is, it smells unlike anything I’ve experienced before. Earthy and warm, with a slightly sweet-smelling musk. I catch sight of Mundi slicking it over his hands before he begins finger combing my hair with it.

“I thought of you when I found it. There’s just a tiny bit of magic woven in to repair damage, hydrate. I think you’ll like it.”

The tension I wasn’t aware of begins to relax and I give myself over to the soothing sensation of his hands.

“Careful, I might expect it next time,” I say before I can remind myself that there shouldn’t be a next time. There shouldn’t even be a now.

Mundi chuckles and kisses my temple. “It will be my honor.”

Leon joins us with the tea. I accept a cup and sip the spicy drink, ignoring all the reasons this is a monumentally bad idea. It’s like Lioria being taken by the High Demon Lords all over again. I’m watching it happen, and I’m powerless to stop it.

Tang continues to stroke his fingers back and forth over my knee, never letting my pussy forget earlier. Ever so slowly, he’s pushing the hem of my chemise up my thigh.

Leon settles on my other side and takes my hand in his. He runs his fingers along the lines decorating my palm before gently massaging all my fingers. I spent hours kneading bread today. It’s like he’s pulling the exhaustion out of my limbs and liberating me.

The thought is in the back of my mind. I try to fend it off, but it whispers through me all the same.

What would it be like to have this every day?

But to give in is to commit myself to the cycle again, and I can’t do that.

“How has trade been?” My voice is lower, sensual, relaxed. Mundi always does this to me, and Leon never misses an opportunity to lend a helping hand.

“Good,” Tang replies. “Steady.”

I drain my cup, then hand it to him. “Have you ever considered trying to sell our tea?”

“We did once, but there wasn’t enough left to sell,” Leon says. “But maybe I’ll try talking to the growers again?”

Lioria will miss the tea. It would be nice if she could get it wherever she ends up.

“Where are you headed next?” I ask.

Leon grunts. “Not sure.”

“You aren’t sure? Or you haven’t made up your mind?”

He shrugs. “It’s never smart to make plans for after a storm.”

He’s talking about the wild magic storm specifically. Because his crew is off fucking their brains out? Most of their crew are other sorts of wild magic beings from the ocean.

Tang draws circles on my thigh. The chemise is halfway up my leg, far past what’s decent.

Mundi digs his fingers into my hair and begins tugging. Not hard. Just the right way that makes my scalp prickle and my body go limp.

I hear Tang hum his approval before his lips press to the now sensitized skin of my thigh.

“There,” Mundi says and releases me.

I lean back against his chest. He isn’t expecting the movement, so his arms fold awkwardly around me, caressing my breasts by mistake. His body tenses a little and he shifts his hands lower, around my middle to hold me closer, nestled against him. I turn my head and kiss his jaw.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

Mundi smiles down at me as if this is all he wants in the world. “Thank you, melena.”

That word again. The atmosphere around us is already sensual, but now it’s charged. Made more potent by the magic riding the storm.

Leon must sense my rising desire because he lifts my hand to his lips, kissing the knuckles. My gaze strays to him at last. I’ve avoided looking at Leon as much as possible.

He’s like a storybook character brought to life.

Leon disguises the long, orange, and chestnut colored fronds around his head with his dark brown locs. He’s fairer skinned than I am, with warm tones. His eyes are completely inhuman, engulfed in dark and light gray with a slit of black down the center. The goatee is new. The perfect lines make his jaw seem that much more square and strong.

Everything about Leon is big. Wide shoulders, tall, thighs like tree trunks. He thought he could overpower me the first time our paths crossed. To this day, I relish the fact that I can kick his ass, in and out of the water.

“You are radiant, melena,” Leon whispers.

I’m hardly pretty, but these three men look at me as though I’m the most beautiful thing on the planet. It’s enough to go to a woman’s head.

Mundi presses light kisses to my neck while Tang’s touch dips to my inner thigh. I know what they’re doing and it would be so easy to give in. But how much more can I take?

Leon sees it in my eyes before I sit up and the other two shift back, giving me space.

I draw my knees up and stare into the fire, willing it to burn away everything that clouds my head. “What are we doing?”

Ever the peacekeeper, Mundi presses his hand to my side. “We’re enjoying your company.”

Tang snorts. I glimpse his eye roll as he flips his braid over his shoulder, as if he’s disgusted with it now.

I lick my lips and brace myself for the words that must be said. “You shouldn’t keep coming here. I’m not going to change my mind.”

“You don’t even try,” Tang snaps.

“Enough, Tang,” Leon bellows as the thunder rolls above us. His grip on my hand.

Tang flops onto his back and stares up at the ceiling.

Leon’s voice gentles, and he strokes the back of my hand. “Kirra, we were in the wrong before. We understand that.”

“That still doesn’t change the fact that as the wild magic storm rages, you show up almost every time. And for what? To break my heart when you ask me to go with you? For me to break yours when I cannot—I will not—bear a child? How is this anything other than cruel? At least when you leave, the three of you are together. I have…” The sob shakes me before I can get hold of my temper.

Leon pulls me toward him, but I know what will happen. I shove to my feet and kick my shoes toward the corner.

“This isn’t fair,” I whisper.

Tang won’t look at me. He’s beautiful with the firelight bringing out the blue tones in his hair and his intent etched into every line of his being.

Mundi’s heart is in his eyes, and I see it breaking right along with mine.

I can’t look at Leon. It will undo me and I’ll dive into his arms, ready to beg him to make me forget. Even just for tonight.

MUNDI

WE’RE GOING to lose her. This is exactly what I’ve been afraid of. Tang’s words bite too deep, and Leon must have his way. They’re going to fuck this up. I’ve been working on Tang and Leon, and I vowed to myself that I wouldn’t sail away without her again. I can’t. She is my heart. As much as I love Tang and Leon, it is Kirra at my center. She is my queen, my love, my everything.

“None of you understand. You were raised with your own kind. No one has to die for you to live.” Kirra has her arms wrapped around herself. Her halo of curls is still limp from the tight braid it’s been in for days, no doubt. “You don’t understand what you’re asking of me.”

The first tears slip down her cheeks and my heart breaks with hers. I tense, ready to rise to her side. But she is a queen, and she doesn’t need me right now. If only we could talk without the weight of what’s been said in the past hanging between us now.

“I will not make more monsters like myself,” she says into the eerie stillness, right before the thunder rolls as if to underscore her point. “Do you know what happens when I’m reborn?”

I flinch, but don’t look away.

We know this story.

“When I’m reborn, I have no memories. I have no control. I’m a monster. I’ll creep into the crib of a dying baby and I’ll take their place. The first action of my life is ending another. And you want me to have your children? To make more of me? How could you ask that of me? How?”

Leon reaches for her and she allows him to grip her hand. “Melena, we know. We’ve heard you. But have you also considered the gift of life you’ve given those humans? They would have lost a babe. But instead, they got you. What of that?”

She shakes her head. “I’m still a monster.”

“So are we,” Tang says simply. “And before you say, it’s not the same, we know full well when and why we kill. How are we less guilty than you in the form of a newborn babe? If you want us, you’ll have us now. Things can be different.”

She shakes her head.

They’re getting bogged down in the same argument we don’t care about.

“Kirra?” I smile at her as best I can. I can’t believe I got my hair caught in that damn net before now. Tang is going to gloat about this for years. “What is it you think we want?”

She tips her nose up and I brace myself for a harsh answer. “A broodmare.”

Tang sighs while Leon shakes his head.

I rise to my feet before the others can do something equally as stupid as getting caught in a net. Kirra glances away, already regretting her answer. I take her face in my hands and edge close enough her breasts brush my chest as she breathes.

“It’s never been about breeding, melena.” She sucks in a breath. The charge in the air intensifies. “It’s about belonging. And we have gone about showing you what we want all wrong. Do you know that the males of our kind are only valued for the children they might produce? Our whole lives we’ve been told we’re worthless unless we can provide children. Girls, preferably.”

This is the way of fledgling species. The most important cornerstone of our lives is the survival of our kind.

Kirra’s brow furrows. It’s not something we’ve discussed with her before because it bruises our pride. But it’s time to put that aside, because I won’t leave here without her.

“It’s hard-wired in us to want a brood of children, but more than that, we need you. With or without children, I don’t care,” I whisper to her.

She won’t look at me now. Her gaze is on the ground. Something’s happened. Something recent. And she’s battered from it still. “I find it hard to believe the two of you have the same opinion.”

“Mundi is right,” Tang says with a sigh.

Would it kill him to put in a little effort here?

“We were getting to that,” Leon mutters.

Kirra shakes her head, sending her curls bouncing and steps away from us. She begins to pace the room, from the window back to us.

“This is madness. You just admitted it’s hardwired into your being to breed, and now you’re going to tell me that it’s fine? That’s something you’re willing to live without? Bullshit.” She stops and glares at me, then the others. “What happens in a year? Or when the next storm calls to your biology and you want to breed? What then?”

Tang thumps his head on the floor. “Then we fuck. So what? You’ve always had a charm to protect you from our seed. Nothing changes.”

“What about when that isn’t enough?” she demands.

I can feel her anguish. It’s palpable, thanks to the magic and her own strength.

“A brood doesn’t have to be our children,” I blurt out.

Kirra gapes at me, lips parted, eyes wide.

Shit.

This was supposed to be brought up delicately, and I’ve swum right into it with all the grace of a human.

I run my fingers through my short hair. “Uh, what I mean is, how would you feel about a brood that isn’t ours? The three of us were abandoned by our families. We were fry together, and we had a family take us in. But…”

“But?”

I glance at Leon, unsure how much to say.

Leon’s voice is a deep rumble, like the roar of the ocean. There’s apology laced through each word. “Almost ninety percent of our young die,” he says. “Granted, when one of our females lays eggs there are hundreds. Of the ten percent who survive the fry stage, they are further whittled down by mothers who only want the strongest boys and all of the girls. The rest are left to fend for themselves, like we were. We had discussed what it would take to give some of these children a home, of sorts. Or at least a home base to go to when they needed someone. As a species, we are mostly independent.”

“Present company excluded,” Tang mutters.

I roll my eyes and ignore him.

Kirra stands there, studying each of us in turn. “That won’t be enough.”

I cross the room to her, unwilling to let her decide my fate for me. I stare into her dark brown eyes and will her to understand me. “For you? Because you’ve always been enough for me, melena.”

KIRRA

THE ROOM IS CLOSING IN. I can feel myself slipping under the spell of Mundi’s idyllic story. But I know. I just know that in a few years I won’t be enough for them. Their need for children will supersede their love for me. It will. I’ll give in. I love them too much to have them and lose them. I’ll give them children with my monstrous curse, and they’ll hate me.

Mundi crowds me back against the wall in a move that’s all Tang. But unlike the surly bastard, Mundi gathers me close until our brows and noses touch. “You’re the only thing missing for me. What can I do to make you see?”

I don’t have an answer. There isn’t one.

“Kirra?” Leon rises to his feet and sheds the coat fit for a pirate captain. Gold glints from the rings in his ears, and I belatedly realize there’s a new adornment on his nose. It’s a tiny gem that twinkles in the light.

I peer over Mundi’s shoulder, dreading Leon’s words.

“If we were to sterilize ourselves, would that sway you?” Leon asks.

I gasp, while Mundi and Tang remain perfectly calm.

“What? No. You can’t do that,” I say.

“Why not?” Leon shrugs. “I’ve grown weary of our goodbyes. Our time together is too short. If cutting my balls off is the answer, it can be done.”

I glance at Mundi, but his heart is his guiding light, and I know he’ll do anything I ask. Which is why I cannot.

Tang seems to be asleep, save for the rhythmic tapping of his toes. Where is his outrage? Why is he accepting this?

“No.” I shake my head. “I will not be the reason for this…”

Tang growls and pushes to his feet. He’s behind Mundi in a moment, shoving us both against the wall as he leans down, filling my vision with his face. “What other answer is there? Say the word, Kirra. Say the word and demand something of us. Or do you not want us? Is that what you won’t say? Do you truly want to be rid of us?”

I don’t want them to leave, but I don’t want them to change for me either. I want them as they are, my perfectly beautiful men of the sea.

“That’s enough, Tang,” Leon says in a weary tone.

Tang pushes away from us and stalks across the room, then out the front door into the rain.

Mundi strokes my sides and murmurs soothing nonsense.

This isn’t going to be alright. We cannot go on as we have. This is a crossroads and I must decide.

“I’ll go fetch him before he does something stupid,” Leon announces and lumbers from the room.

Mundi and I stand there, alone now. His thumbs are working circles against my sides. I lift my arms around to circle his shoulders and hold tight for a moment. Just one while I collect myself.

“I’m not leaving with them, Kirra,” he whispers. “When the morning comes and they weigh anchor tomorrow, I won’t be on the ship. I’m staying, whether you’ll have me or not.”

His words are a shock.

Mundi takes two steps back and gives me that lopsided smile of his that always warms my heart. “Take some time and think about it, yeah?”

He picks up the empty teacups and the pot, then takes them into the kitchen. I listen to him move about, all while my insides are in turmoil. There’s too much magic in the air. My emotions are haywire.

I need out of here. I need to be free. To run. To something.

I tear out of the house and wrap bits of shadow around myself as my body begins to shift. I’m no elegant creature like my men. My great, lumbering body moves in leaps and bounds. The small wings at my back allow me to glide farther. I reach the palisade protecting the town and leap over it in one bound.

It’s been ages since I’ve let my monster out. I bound south along the coast where no people are likely to be, running from my heart.

Things cannot continue as they have. Lioria is gone. I am alone. And I’m too selfish to give up my men. They came in on a wave and stole my cold, dead heart. They reminded me that life is worth living. And now they’re willing to go to drastic lengths for me.

I come to a stop along the steep bluffs overlooking the water, where in ages past the ground broke away and sank below the water. I suck in air, my lungs burning from the exertion. I’ve crossed close to five hundred miles, give or take. The air is colder, and the storm hasn’t gotten this far. I shiver and stare out at the sea while stars glitter overhead like treasure from the deep of a bygone era.

Why do I remain here? I know this land birthed me and I have a deep connection to it. But nothing ties me here. Would it be so bad to go with them? To see the world? To give myself to this love? I cannot change what I am, but if they are willing to accept only me is it wrong to trust them? To have hope?

I wish I could talk this over with Lioria, but I never told her what I was.

She would tell me to do it. To take the risk. That all we have is this one life, and it should be lived.

LEON

TANG IS ALREADY in the water, his clothes thrown on the rocky ledge tucked away out of sight. The rain pours its heart out while the night grows as black as my mood.

I hear feet overhead and press my back to the rocks. Mundi appears a moment later, slithering down to my level as the rain soaks his clothes. He starts when he sees me, eyes wild and wide.

“She’s gone,” he says.

“What?” I mutter, not wanting to believe it.

Mundi grasps handfuls of his short hair and begins chanting. “I fucked up, Leon. I fucked up.”

I pull him to me, keeping a tight arm around his waist. “You didn’t. You were right. We should have had a plan.”

Maybe it was my ego, but I hadn’t wanted to practice what we should say. It needed to come from the heart. And now we might have lost her because we spoke too quickly.

It’s me who has failed my pod. I shouldn’t have pushed when she said no. I should have listened. We should have been brave and come to face her without the storm pushing us.

Deep down, all three of us are still the unwanted fry, pushed out of the pod to die. We were the lucky ones who found each other and then a home. In our passion, we asked for what we were not owed. And it could cost us the woman that fits us perfectly.

Tang breaks the surface of the choppy water. I can’t see his face, but he has to know that if we’re out here nothing good has transpired.

I grasp hold of Mundi’s shirt and drag it up over his head. I suspect there are tears mixed in with the rain. He feels so deeply, bearing our burdens. And I should have listened to him better.

We mindlessly throw off our human clothes before diving into the welcoming arms of the ocean below. Tang meets us, swirling around our forms as they shift. His tanned flesh shifts into splotches of bright and dark blue with dots of yellow. Yellow stripes the fins at his sides and back, while the dark blue tentacles sport yellow dots that have lured plenty of pray to their death. He reaches for us with those tentacles, binding us together against the storm.

Mundi wiggles away from us. In the dim light, he is almost luminescent. Mid-chest, his body transitions to brilliant white scales, dotted with black. Long, frilly fins line his body. I’ve said many a time that he’s pretty enough for any female, but that only earns me scowls. He’s especially touchy tonight, based on the quick back-and-forth motions of his many slender tentacles sprouting from his lower back.

We follow Mundi as he aimlessly wanders along the ocean floor, far from the storm overhead. He’s been moody and distant as of late, and I fear what this rejection will do to us as a pod.

I’ve let them down.

We swim without speaking, purpose, or direction for the better part of an hour. I’m growing weary and trying to decide how to negotiate getting us back to shore and in a bed. Somewhere. Probably not with Kirra.

Mundi whirls around, all of his graceful, frilly fins stiff as if he’s facing a predator.

I haven’t sensed anything, but before I can turn dark arms wrap around me. Warm skin presses to my back and a leg wraps around my hip. The contact makes me freeze in both hope and dread. It would be poor form for one of my spines to poison the woman I want to be our mate.

Tang drifts closer. Like me, he’s a glutton for punishment. One of his tentacles reaches out when his human half is too scared to. I turn my head and watch the brilliant yellow tip of his tentacle brush along her bare back. She’s naked and glorious in the water, but she’s formidable in human form. I’ve got the scar to prove it.

Mundi doesn’t join us. In fact, he draws farther away.

My heart beats in my throat. I don’t know what to say or if I should speak. So I wait. And listen, glad that all of us can breathe underwater.

“I’m afraid,” she says softly. Magic carries her words farther and I see Mundi’s body tense at her admission. “I… I lost a very dear friend this week. I can’t lose you, too. But I am afraid.”

Tang drifts closer, his tentacles wrapping around her to guide her between us.

I cup her face and turn her so she must look at me. “Then find us when you’re ready. You haven’t lost us.”

She looks from me to Tang, uncertainty clouding her vision.

Tang kisses her shoulder and nuzzles her neck. I always marvel at how soft he becomes for her.

Kirra has changed us all for the better, one piece at a time over many years. We should have courted her properly earlier, but we have time. Our kind lives a very long time.

KIRRA

I’VE ALWAYS FOUND Tang’s muscular, squid-like tentacles comforting. This isn’t the first time he’s had me wrapped shoulder to toe. He knows just how tight to squeeze to make me feel better. It doesn’t make sense that being squeezed tight relaxes me, but it does. I turn my head and kiss Tang’s cheek, earning a smile.

Leon’s words sink into me, and I know with certainty that this is the right choice. It wouldn’t have been right a year or five years ago.

I reach out and run my fingers over the long, fluttering fins that cover Leon’s body. There’s no hiding the orange and chestnut fins now, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. He’s easily the biggest merman I’ve ever seen, though I would never call him a merman to his face. Yes, I know mermen are a different species, old as the earth. I’ve never seen one.

Leon allows me to reel him in for a gentle kiss.

But there’s still one I need to accept. To let into my heart because that’s where he belongs.

Tang seems to know what I’ve decided before I move. His tentacles slide down my body and I push off them, cutting through the water toward Mundi. He watches me warily.

I reach out and run a finger along the primary fin that runs from his tail, up his sides and along his back. His body jolts and his fins resume the gentle wave, though his slender tentacles are still pressed tight to his back.

I drift closer to him, using a little magic to control myself.

“I’m sorry my fear spoke louder than my heart. I’m sorry I ran. You deserve better from me.”

Mundi shakes his head. “No. You’re—”

I press my fingers to his mouth. “You’re perfect. The three of you. Together. I don’t want to break that up. But I am scared to… I’m scared to not be enough. But I should have listened with my ears and my heart. I’ve loved the three of you since you scared me half to death. And… I can’t go on without you. I don’t want to.”

For a long moment we stare at each other. I feel the rightness of this settle within myself as the water swirls around us.

Mundi’s lips part while his chest heaves. He surges toward me and it’s not just arms wrapping around me. It’s a dozen gentle tentacles binding us together as we sink lower in the water, far below the storm still raging overhead.

“Are you sure?” he whispers and cups my face.

“I want to be, but I’m scared. I’ve only ever been alone.”

He nudges my nose with his. “I’ll do everything in my power to make you certain.”

Leon and Tang move to join us, their hands and Tang’s two thick tentacles joining Mundi’s as they capture me in a way that seems purposeful.

Have I just allowed myself to be caught?

Maybe I have, and it’s exactly where I belong.

Leon nuzzles my neck. “Welcome home, my guiding star.”

Tang threads his fingers through my hair then forces me to look at him. My fierce protector gazes at me with tenderness. It’s like the final barrier he’s held between us has fallen away, and this is the real Tang.

Hands trail over my breasts and body. The storm, their attention, it’s all coalesced into a tight ball of need low in my belly.

He reaches up and tugs something from his hair. It looks like a bit of purple seaweed and a tiny flower. He fastens it to my hair as Leon and Mundi begin pressing soft kisses to my neck and chest.

“You were always the destination,” Tang says so softly.

I swallow and nod, because from the day I met them I knew I’d found something special. I just wasn’t ready to accept them yet.

Leon pulls my back to his chest as Mundi’s slim tentacles work their way up my thighs to brush my folds. Tang seals his lips over mine and I moan. A hand turns my face, and then it’s Mundi with his teasing tongue as he slips inside of me. Leon pulls my hips against him and I can feel the bulge of him behind the scales protecting his cock. No sooner do I give myself over to the kiss then Leon is turning me and crushes my mouth to his.

The tentacles inside of me withdraw to tease my ass.

I try to touch each of them as I’m passed around again and again for kisses and touches until I’m whimpering and near begging. It’s Mundi who gives me relief first. The feel of his cock sliding into my ass nearly makes me weep.

As if they’ve choreographed this, Leon hikes my knee up over his elbow and thrusts into my pussy. I moan while my body adjusts to the feel of their slick bodies. They both lean in, kissing opposite sides of my neck.

I gaze up at Tang grinning at me stroking his cock and crook my finger at him. I will have them all tonight, in every way possible, and every night from now on.

As the four of us join, reaching for pleasure, I’ve found the family I’ve always longed for.

The End

Thanks so much for giving Kirra and her guys a chance! I didn’t know what I was going to write when I sat down. Curious about Kirra’s bestie, Lioria? Check out her story in Demon in My Veins (My Demon Lords 1).

About the Author

Sydney St. James is the pen name of NYT and USA Today Bestselling author Sidney Bristol. The best part is that Sydney doesn’t have to choose. Welcome to a world of fantastical tales where the choices open doors.

JOIN the newsletter to stay up to date on all book news: https://www.sydneystjames.com

THE RACE: HAYLEY & CHRISTIAN

S.J. SYLVIS

HAYLEY

IT WAS CHILLY. The gust of wind made my in-desperate-need-of-a-haircut hair whip around my face like a flag on a flagpole. Ellie cooed as she reached for the long strands, giggling as the hair tickled her face.

“Mommy’s hair is not a toy, little one.”

“Everything is a toy.” Christian beamed, staring down at our daughter with a look that began the second she was born. His long finger swooped down and brushed the side of her delicate cheek, and I melted, even though I truly was chilly.

“This is ridiculous,” I said, bundling Ellie up a little more so she didn’t get too cold. Christian smiled, and my stomach flopped. Over the years, I’d learned that he had many smiles, and the one that he was currently sporting was devious as hell.

Gravel crunched, and Christian turned and looked at the rest of our friends walking toward where we were standing, far away from the cars.

“This was the best idea I have ever had,” Ollie mused, looking even more devious than his brother.

“Eh,” Christian said. “I’m only doing it because it’s what you wanted instead of a bachelor party. You’re lucky you’re getting married. This is the only time I will fall for one of your stupid plans.”

“How is racing stupid? It’s fun. And just think, we don’t have any fucked-up losers demanding we pay them after we win this time.”

“Ollie!” Piper scolded. “Don’t even.”

I laughed, remembering how Ollie and Piper came together under some very unusual circumstances—almost as unusual as Christian and I.

“Hi, sweetie-girl.” Piper’s rosy cheeks curved up as she reached down and kissed Ellie on the head, making her smile and grasp her hair, too.

“That’s her new thing,” I laughed. “She loves hair.”

Ollie came over beside Piper and bent down to stare at his niece. “What’s my favorite little princess doing? No boyfriends yet? Good, you’re never allowed to date.”

“Ollie,” Piper laughed. “She’s a baby.”

He shrugged. “Just reminding her.”

A whistle flew from Christian’s mouth a second later, and when we all turned around, I beamed. Oh my God!

“Look at you!” I rushed over to Madeline as quickly as I could without jumbling Ellie and smiled. Madeline had her long, blonde hair tucked underneath a dark-purple beanie, and her hoodie hardly covered her belly. “I swear you’ve grown, and I saw you, like, less than a month ago.”

“You really have,” Piper said, reaching out and touching her belly. Eric was wearing his dark-blue scrubs underneath his jacket, smiling at his wife.

“I know. I’m a whale.” Madeline rolled her eyes. “I can’t even feel my feet.”

We all laughed, and the guys huddled up together, getting ready for the most ridiculous and immature bachelor party—race?—there ever was.

“This is so stupid,” Piper said as we all stood back and watched them chat together and stare off into the distance at their “racetrack”.

Ellie started to whine, so I spun her around. Madeline, with loving eyes, held her hands out, offering to hold her. I passed her off, smiling and glanced at Piper. “I think it’s cute that Ollie wanted to race for his bachelor party. He said it was what brought you two together, and he wanted a taste of that again.”

“Aww,” Madeline piped, glancing at us before smiling at Ellie.

Piper smiled, tucking her copper hair behind her ear. “It is kinda cute, huh?”

“So cute,” I whispered, staring at Christian from across the field, feeling that slight burn I always got when catching his eye from a distance.

The men started to walk back over to us with their slow, pretentious strides, and suddenly, I was back at English Prep, walking the halls while waiting for Christian to glare in my direction.

So much had changed since high school, but so much hadn’t, too.

I was still just as in love with him as I was when I was a young girl, and he was still just as protective over me–and now, Ellie–as if I were still in that screwed-up foster home.

“You boys ready?” Eric asked, coming over and smiling down at Ellie in his wife’s arms.

Piper and Ollie were the last to get married out of all of us.

Christian and I had the smallest, most intimate wedding in Ann and his father’s backyard with only the people currently surrounding us there. Madeline and Eric had a much larger wedding, shortly after she found out she was pregnant, and now it was Ollie and Piper’s turn. Her parents wanted her to have a big wedding, and Ollie was all for it. Anything for attention.

“You’re not racing?” I asked, looking at Eric.

“No,” Ollie grumbled. “He’s a doctor, so he’s going to stay back and make sure we’re okay and don’t die or something stupid like that.”

“I’m not a doctor, Ol. But yeah, I mean, I might as well make sure you two don’t break your necks. How the hell would I take care of these girls by myself? I’d die.”

We all laughed, but mine was cut short as Christian came over to me. He placed his arms underneath my butt, and lifted me high off the ground. I stared down at his dark features that were kissed with the lightest color of pink from the cool air.

“Christian!” I screeched, placing my hands on his shoulders.

He didn’t stop walking until we were near the forest line, pressed up against the first row of trees.

“I love you,” he whispered, looking up at me as he held me in place.

I smiled and laughed, looking away for a second. “I know you do.”

“I miss you.”

I rolled my eyes and gave him a look. “I’m right here. How do you miss me?”

His inhale caused my nipples to tighten and my belly to curl. “We’re old and busy now. We have a baby, and she doesn’t fucking sleep a wink. She’s lucky she’s so damn cute.”

“She is pretty cute.”

“And you’re the best fucking mom there is.”

Christian slowly brought me down to my feet, and I swallowed tightly at the firmness I felt in his jeans. I stared up at him with a devious look and brought my hand between us, rubbing over him lightly. He hissed and raised an eyebrow.

“We’re taking El to my dad and Ann after this.”

“Oh, are we?” I mused, placing my hands back around his neck. Christian gripped my waist, slipping underneath my jacket and brushing his cool fingers on my warm skin.

“Yes, and I’m going to fuck you seven ways to Sunday, baby.”

“So, what?” I laughed. “We’re going to take Ellie to your dad’s and then go back home and–”

“And I’m going to fuck you in our big ol’ bed, and you’re going to be as loud as you want while coming all over my dick.”

“Christian,” I hissed, glancing at our friends who were waiting patiently for us. Ellie was the center of their attention, so I brought mine back to my husband.

“Hayley,” he said back, putting his finger under my chin and bringing our lips together. “Let me make you mine again.”

“I am yours,” I said, brushing my lips over his, wanting nothing more than to go home now and get on with his plan.

“Damn straight you are.” Christian’s tongue jolted out of his mouth as he licked his lips, and then they were on my mouth, and I melted so quickly he had to hold me up against his chest.

A laugh rumbled out of his chest as he pulled back, his eyes flaring with need. “There she is.”

“Let’s go, bro!” Ollie yelled, breaking our moment. “Stop trying to make me an uncle again.”

Christian rolled his eyes. “He thinks he can boss me around because it’s his bachelor party.”

“Race,” I corrected, reaching up and pecking Christian on the mouth once more. “Now hurry up and win so we can get on with our night.”

“Yeah?” Christian asked, the hope in his gaze making him look like the boy I fell in love with years ago.

I smiled. “Yeah, tonight is all about you and me.”

He looked away, smiling. “Damn, I love you so much.”

My heart twisted, and the tiniest amount of gloss covered my eyes, making the dead grass beneath our feet blurry. “I love you, too. Now go win the race.”

“Yes, ma’am. But not before I go give our girl some love.” And with that, Christian jogged to our group of friends–which was more like a family–and pulled our daughter out of his brother’s hands and snuggled her in close, making me fall in love all over again.

CHRISTIAN

MY BROTHER WAS lucky he was getting married. To be honest, there was a slight feeling of pride deep inside that he had settled down with Piper long ago. Ollie was always the most rambunctious of us both, always pushing the limits and seeking a thrill that no one seemed to tame until he fell for Hayley’s best friend.

They were getting married.

The last in our group.

Hayley and I were the start of it all. We were the first ones to admit we wanted each other, we were the first to get engaged, and the first to have a baby. Then, the first to get married, right there in the lawn under the twinkle lights that Piper and Madeline hastily put up with Hayley’s belly beginning to grow into a small beach ball.

That girl was my forever girl.

I hoped she knew that.

“Okay, drivers,” Madeline said, standing in between the two cars. Hayley and I had gotten a family car as soon as we found out we were pregnant, but I kept my Charger, and there was no way that Ollie was getting rid of his. If he had children one day, that Charger was 100% getting passed down to them. In fact, if he could get away with it, I think he’d put the damn thing in his house as some kind of artifact with a sign below that read: “This is what made Piper fall in love with me.”

“Get back here,” Eric shouted, grabbing onto Madeline’s shoulders and pushing her to the sidelines. I glanced at Hayley and smiled as she was swaying with Ellie, pulling her hat down over her ears. “Okay, guys,” Eric yelled. “On the count of three, and please, for the love of God, do not wreck. I don’t have time for your shit.”

Ollie rolled down his window, and I did the same. “He’s so mature now, yeah? Look at our boy, all grown up and becoming a doctor. Barking rules at us like Dad.”

Piper stepped forward. “Ollie!”

“Yeah?”

“You better win.” She blew him a kiss, and Ollie revved his engine. Before he rolled his window up, he looked at me without a single ounce of Ollie humor on his face. “You better not let me win.”

I chuckled. “Not a fucking chance, bro.”

“One.” Eric held up his hand in between our cars. “Two.” I revved my Charger and glanced at Hay and Ellie one last time before the final push. “Three!”

Ollie and I both took off at the same time, our Chargers nearly identical with their engines. The only difference was the color and the fact that Ollie could actually win because he had experience.

“Fuck,” I said, paying more attention to the curves in the road and shifting so I could at least stay neck and neck with him.

He didn’t want me to let him win, but if I were about to win, I’d probably let off the gas. It was his bachelor party–excuse me, race–after all.

The track we were on was one that Ollie had raced on when we were in high school and he was seeking out trouble while I was seeking out Hayley. It was overgrown in places, and weeds bent underneath our tires as we rounded the bend in the lightly graveled road, but that was when I began to feel the shift in my wheels. Panic lingered in the back of my head as I let up on the gas, but that was the wrong thing to do.

I saw the rocky hillside with just enough time to have Ellie’s and Hayley’s faces flash behind my eyes before my stomach hit the top of my car before flying to the bottom as I went over the edge and saw a tree coming face first.

The airbag went off, and I gasped for air, sucking in as much oxygen as I could inside my Charger. My eyes shut as my head fell forward, and I must have passed out for a few seconds, because the next thing I knew, my door was being opened, and two strong hands had gripped my shirt after unbuckling my seatbelt.

“You better fucking be alive, or Hayley will kill me.” Ollie yelled as I fell to the ground, my back hitting the soft ground below me. “Dad will, too. Jesus Christ, brother.”

My eyes slowly opened, and I stared up at the moving sky. Dark clouds settled in above Ollie’s swaying head. His shirt was off next, and my brow crowded.

“Put your shirt back on. What are you doing?”

Ollie ignored me and pressed his bundled shirt up against my forehead.

“Did you steal my cologne?” I asked, sniffing the shirt.

“Really? That’s what you’re concerned about?”

I laughed, and Ollie rolled his eyes, all humor gone from my slightly immature, happier-than-most brother.

“I’m fine,” I said, sitting up and ignoring how I could suddenly feel the world spinning. “Where’s Hay?”

“Probably on her way to kill me. I told you not to let me win.”

I chuckled again, feeling an instant headache coming on. “She’s gonna kill me, too.”

“Are you okay? Seriously? How many fingers am I holding up?” I blinked a few times, and I ignored Ollie’s question. Oh, he was actually concerned. I moved past the worry lines on his forehead and winced at my car. Shit.

“Christian!” It was that instant that my heart came back to life in full force, and blood rushed to my injuries. “Oh my God.”

Hayley’s warm hands cupped my cheeks, and I was suddenly seeing much clearer.

“I’m okay, baby. I’m fine.”

Her tears fell swiftly, and I hardly ever saw this woman cry. She cried when we found out we were pregnant, and she cried the day Ellie was born. That was it, in all the years of our lives together.

“Shit, Hayley. Please don’t cry.” Panic. Panic. Panic. “I can’t handle it when you cry.”

“Are you okay?” she gasped, quickly wiping her face. She looked away and latched onto Ollie, who was still in the same spot with a shirt pressed against my head. “Is he okay? Ollie, is he okay?”

“Hay,” I urged, placing my shaky hands on hers. Her somber eyes, wet with tears, clung onto me. “I am okay. You think I would leave this earth without you?”

A small sob escaped her as her chestnut hair fell in between us. My chest ached, and it had nothing to do with the crash I’d just been in. “I swear to God, Christian. I know I have a good support system now…,” Hayley paused and looked at my brother and the rest of our friends, along with Madeline holding our daughter in her arms, as they rushed up the gravel road, before looking at me once more. “But if you leave me, I’ll never be the same.”

“I’m here,” I said, bringing her hands up to my mouth and kissing her knuckles softly.

Ollie huffed, falling back on his butt with the bloody shirt in his hand. “You two always steal the show. You know that, right?”

A small giggle escaped Hayley’s mouth, and I smiled, never once looking away from the girl I fell in love with when we were too young to even know what love was.

The End

If you enjoyed this little bonus epilogue of the English Prep gang and haven’t read their books, check out book one here: All the Little Lies: A High School Bullly Romance by S.J. Sylvis. (link: mybook.to//Allthelittlelies)

If you have read the English Prep books and haven’t had a chance to start my all new, dark boarding school romance, here the link for book one (you’ll love it if you loved EP!): Good Girls Never Rise by S.J. Sylvis.

About the Author

S.J. Sylvis is a romance author who is best known for her angsty new adult romances and romantic comedies. She currently resides in Arizona with her husband, two small kiddos, and dog. She is obsessed with coffee, becomes easily attached to fictional characters, and spends most of her evenings buried in a book! You can find her at sjsylvis.com!

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FATED TO BE MINE

SKYE ALDER

CHAPTER ONE

KADE

I KEEP MY HEAD DOWN, my hood covering my face from view as I make my way down the cobble streets of the Righ Kingdom. I’m not a member of the town or of King Koda’s pack but I’m not exactly a tourist either.

I’m in town to try to find my fated mate. I’ve been desperately searching for her for the last three years but haven’t been able to pick up her scent anywhere.

Part of me is starting to lose hope.

I glance up at the imposing castle, nestled atop a hill that overlooks the whole village. There’s a line of villagers waiting just outside the gates and I study the line, wondering if I should go see if my mate is there before they all head inside of the castle walls.

I’ve been in Koda’s Kingdom for a few days and haven’t caught even a hint of my mate’s scent. I’ve already decided to give it one more day before I leave for the next Kingdom.

I don’t know what it is about this place, but my wolf is insistent that we stay. It’s like he knows something that I don’t know and I’m going to trust him.

Growing up, I was always a loner. I belonged to a small pack and my parents were always busy helping out the Alpha and other pack members so I was left to my own devices quite a bit.

I didn’t mind. I liked being alone. I could go out exploring or just sit and read in the forest for hours.

When I turned eighteen, I realized that my mate wasn’t a member of my pack. It was a slim shot anyway since there were fewer than fifty of us. Since she wasn’t there, I went out looking for her and I’ve been out searching for the past three years.

A delicious sweet scent reaches my nose and my wolf perks up. He loves sweets and I roll my eyes as I head over to the bakery. All of the lights are off and I’m guessing they’re closed. It’s only four pm but it’s a special occasion today. King Koda is supposed to be meeting his eligible brides today so the whole town seems to have shut down early.

My wolf paws at me and I frown. He’s not ever this insistent about something. For a second there I thought that I might even lose my skin and I can’t have that happening out in the open like that.

I glance around, noticing that there’s a few humans who are still wandering the cobblestone streets and I duck around the side of the bakery.

The sweet scent is even stronger over here and I notice a side door is open. A girl is humming inside, some song that I don’t recognize and I inch closer.

My wolf howls, the sound almost deafening me and my heart rate picks up.

I’m almost to the open door when a beautiful brunette comes bustling out and my heart stops beating.

She’s perfection.

Mahogany hair hangs in gentle waves down her back. Staring at her ample curves has my wolf and I both licking our lips. Her skin is pale, like porcelain or fresh cream. She blinks big blue eyes at me, obviously surprised to see me standing just outside the door.

MATE!

My wolf screams in my head and I grit my teeth, curling my fingers into my palms to keep from shifting right then and there.

“Um, hi,” my mate says cautiously, her eyes darting behind me but there’s no one there.

The village is mostly deserted now that the ceremony has started at the castle.

“We’re closed but I might have a few pastries left,” she says, glancing over her shoulder into the dark bakery.

My wolf screams at me, urging me to bite her, to claim her and make her ours.

She’s our mate, he reminds me. She belongs to us.

I’m dizzy with lust and happiness. I can’t believe that I’ve finally found her. Three long years had left me desperate and hopeless and it’s a heady rush to be standing in front of her now, breathing in her sweet scent.

She takes a step away from me and my wolf growls.

Don’t let her get away! Not now that we’ve finally found her.

I take a step toward her and I realize then that I’ve been staring at her silently for the last few minutes with my jaw clenched tight and my hands curled into fists.

You’re terrifying her. Take a deep breath and explain to her that you’re her fated mate. That we’re meant to be.

It sounds so simple in my head.

Too bad for me, that’s not when ends up happening.

CHAPTER TWO

ELLE

I LOOK BEHIND ME, wondering if I should just dart back in and lock the door. I don’t know who I would call since I just moved here and haven’t really met anyone. I guess I could call my boss but I doubt that she would come back or help. She’s not the nicest and she’d probably just be pissed that I called and interrupted her night at the castle with the King.

You’d think that she was one of the eligible brides with the way she was carrying on all week long. Her daughter, Marissa, was one of the chosen ones and she’s so beautiful that I wouldn’t be surprised if she was picked.

I glance back at the man and see that he’s still staring at me in that intense way. My brain is telling me to run but my body isn’t scared of him. Not really. In fact, I feel more comfortable and safer than I have in a long time.

I must be too sleep deprived.

That would explain why I’m not freaking out right now. I’ve been getting up at three thirty in the morning since I started this job a week ago and working until close every day. Twelve hours of being on my feet and running around to help customers or make new pastries has really been wearing on me but no one else in town is hiring so I guess I’m stuck working here.

Anything is better than being trapped at home with my parents. They’ve been married and divorced twice now, and yes, both times were to each other.

They’re so toxic together, always fighting and screaming. They throw things, leave and disappear for days and then show back up like nothing happened in the first place. I’m so sick of being the one to pick up the pieces, to make sure that they’re both okay.

I’ve talked to both of them about leaving and cutting the other out of their lives but it never lasts. It’s like they’re addicted to each other, or maybe just addicted to the drama of it all.

Me? I hated it. I couldn’t wait until I turned eighteen and could move out. I graduated high school two weeks ago, got this job then and moved out last week. Today is actually my eighteenth birthday and I’m looking forward to going back to my rundown apartment and having a quiet night to myself.

I can’t wait to get off of my tired feet.

I wiggle my toes in my worn sneakers as I size the guy up.

He’s huge, at least six foot four, with wide shoulders and a tapered waist. He’s obviously in shape and I glance down at my own body. I doubt that I would be able to outrun him or fight him off if it came to that.

My only tool is going to be surprise.

His bright green eyes remind me of the pine trees growing in the forest around the village. He takes a step toward me, his dark brown hair shifting and I watch as a piece falls across his forehead.

“Are you hungry?” I ask and I watch as his eyes darken with hunger for something besides food.

I don’t know how I know that, but I’m sure that he wants me. I’m a virgin who has sworn off dating. I would never get lost in the same cycle as my parents.

“What do you want?” I ask, starting to grow frustrated with his silent treatment.

“You,” he says, his voice coming out in a deep growl that has my body coiling tight with need.

“What?” I ask faintly, my heartbeat pounding in my ears as he takes another step toward me.

He steps forward and I freeze, wondering what he’s going to do now. I watch in a trance as he leans down and my eyes flutter closed.

Is he going to kiss me?

Then I feel a sharp sting on the sensitive skin where my shoulder meets my neck.

I yelp, my eyes flying open as I try to back away from him. He lets me go, seeming at peace now that he’s bitten me and I wonder if he has rabies or something. I mean, who the hell bites someone like that?

My fight or flight instinct kicks in then and I spin, bolting for the door. I just need to get it closed and locked and then I’ll be safe.

I’m pulling the door shut when a large hand grabs hold of the edge and easily pulls it back open.

“Wait,” I plead, holding up my hands but he keeps walking toward me, following me inside the bakery.

I look around for a weapon but there’s nothing. I deep cleaned tonight like Mary, my boss, demanded and everything has been stored for the night.

“Just leave me alone,” I tell him, forcing my voice to sound tough.

I’m not sure it’s fooling him.

He shakes his head, his eyes looking wounded and I wonder what he has to be upset about.

“You’re mine,” he says, his body and voice more relaxed now. “Can’t you feel it?”

“All I can feel is pain from when you bit me!” I shout and he studies me.

“Does it really hurt?” He asks and I pause.

Does it?

I know that it should, but now that I think about it, no, it doesn’t hurt. In fact, it actually feels good.

Oh god, do I have a biting kink?

“We need to talk,” he says and I stare at him as the bakery door slams shut behind him, plunging us into darkness.

CHAPTER THREE

KADE

MY MATE FINDS the light switch and my wolf curls up inside of me. He’s happy now that we’ve marked her. No other shifter will go near her now that she’s wearing our bite.

I take a deep breath, wondering how I’m going to explain what’s going on to her. I’ve never heard of a shifter mating with a human but it’s obvious now that she’s not like me.

“I didn’t know that you were a human,” I start, and she gapes at me.

“What else would I be?” She sputters, furrowing her adorable brow.

“A shifter, like me. I’m sorry, I didn’t even know that shifters could find or be with human mates.”

She stares at me blankly and I can tell that she thinks I’m insane. I scrub a hand down my face, sighing as I think of a better way to explain all of this.

“I’m not explaining this very well. I’m a shifter,” I start again, trying to keep from reaching for her. I want to pull her into my side and get her scent on me like I am on her. It only seems fair.

“What is that?” She asks, growing frustrated with my explaining and I sigh again.

“It’s a person who can change into an animal.”

“Right,” she says like I’m crazy.

“It’s true. I’m a wolf shifter, meaning that I can change into a wolf.”

She stares at me dubiously but doesn’t say anything so I go on.

“I’ve been all over trying to find my fated mate. All shifters have one, and you’re mine. You’re fated to be mine, and I’m meant to be yours.”

“No,” she says, staring at me with firm resolution in her eyes. “You made a mistake. I’m not meant to be yours.”

“You’re fated to be mine,” I stress.

“Well, then fate and you are wrong.”

“I swear I’m telling you the truth. We’re meant to be together.”

“I don’t even know your name! You don’t even know mine, but you know that we’re soulmates?” She asks, using air quotes around soulmates.”

“I’m Kade. Kade Stone.”

I hold out my hand for her to shake and she stares at it suspiciously but finally her palm meets mine and my wolf and I both settle. Feeling her skin against mine is like heaven.

“I’m Elle,” she mumbles and I grin.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“Exactly! We just met so how do you know that we’re supposed to be together?” She asks.

“I can smell it.”

“Oh my god, are you saying that I smell bad?” She half shouts, sounding outraged and I shake my head.

“No! Not at all. It’s the opposite actually. Our fated mates smell like the sweetest thing ever.”

“That’s probably just the pastries,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest.

The movement pushes her breasts up higher and my wolf growls. He wants to get her naked and get our scent all over her. I groan, rubbing at my temples. I need to get her on the same page as me first before I bring up mating with her fully.

“It’s not. It’s you. Shifters can smell their mates. It’s a cellular level thing. My wolf and I can both smell it. Shifters only have one fated mate. That’s their person, their one true love, and you are mine. I never thought I would find you,” I say and I can’t hide the emotion behind that last sentence.

She must be able to tell how relieved and happy I am to have finally found her because she softens at my words.

“Just come with me. I’m staying at a hotel up the street. We can grab something to eat and I’ll answer any questions that you have about me or shifters.”

She studies me, shifting back and forth on her feet and I hold my breath, waiting to hear her answer.

“Alright. It’s my birthday and I guess it would be a little sad to spend it all alone. You’re paying for dinner,” she says, aiming a pointer finger at me and I nod fast.

I would agree to anything right now if it meant that she wouldn’t reject me or turn me away.

“Deal.”

I hold my hand out for her to go through the side door first and she grabs her purse off of the counter there, giving me one last look before she heads outside.

I half expect her to bolt as soon as she’s outside but she doesn’t. She waits for me to leave and then locks the door behind us.

We start to head toward the hotel and a thought hits me.

She didn’t handle me explaining shifters and fated mates very well. How the hell is she going to handle me telling her about the mating moon and mating pull?

I glance up at the sky, taking in the full moon that is already starting to rise in the sky and I groan internally as I imagine having to hold my wolf back tonight.

My wolf paces inside of me with every step we take and I know that I’m in for a real battle tonight.

Both from my mate and my wolf.

CHAPTER FOUR

ELLE

I LOOK around the hotel room. It’s actually more of a suite but I think that all of the rooms at this house are fancier than your typical hotel.

I walk around the living room, wondering what happens now. I’m kind of freaking out being alone with this guy but I can’t deny that there’s something between us.

“So, tell me more about mates,” I say, trying to fill the silence.

“Well, shifters only mate once. You’re the only one that I will ever love. We were made for each other.”

Well, that sounds promising. Maybe a little far-fetched for me to wrap my brain around after living with my parents for eighteen years, but it sounds nice.

“If you ever die or leave me, then I’ll die soon after,” he continues and my mouth drops open.

That turned quickly…

“Then there’s the mating moon,” he says and he seems hesitant to go on which only piques my interest.

“What’s that?”

“When there’s a full moon, it’s known as the mating moon. Every shifter that’s mated will feel the mating bond and mating pull on each full moon.”

“And?” I ask and he clears my throat.

“Can you feel the attraction between us? The pull towards me?”

I think about it for a second and realize that I can. There’s a connection here, something that I can’t explain and I’ve never felt before.

“Yeah, I can feel it,” I whisper and he steps toward me.

The heat only grows the closer that he gets and I lick my lips.

Can I really do this? I just met this guy like half an hour ago and I’m already considering sleeping with him? I’ve never slept with anyone before. I swore off guys! So why am I leaning toward giving into this thing between us?

Maybe it’s just that I’ve been the good girl all of my life and I want to break the rules or throw caution to the wind. Just this once.

I’ve been trying to do everything right all of my life and look what it’s gotten me. I have no real family. I have a crappy job that I hate and a tiny apartment that is basically falling apart.

Screw it. I’m throwing caution to the wind.

Just this once.

I take a step toward Kade and his eyes darken and almost seem to glow.

“I want to see it,” I whisper and he cocks his head.

“See what?”

“Your wolf. Will you shift for me?”

He nods, taking a step back. I watch in wonder as he takes off his shirt and starts to unbuckle his pants.

“Is this necessary?” I ask him, my cheeks heating in a blush.

“I’ll rip my clothes if I don’t take them off,” he explains and I look away from him while he removes his pants and boxers.

“Ready?” He asks and I look back at him, keeping my eyes locked on his face.

“I’m ready.”

He nods once and then it happens. He shifts right before my eyes.

His nails elongate and fur starts to replace his skin. Soon he’s down on all four paws and my mouth drops open as I study the giant wolf standing in the middle of the living room.

“Whoa,” I breathe and he takes a few steps closer.

The wolf’s head nudges my hand and I reach out, running my fingers through his soft fur. I guess, deep down, I didn’t really believe or know what to expect when he said that he could turn into a wolf. It seemed too far-fetched of an idea.

Now that I’m seeing it before my very eyes, I still can’t really believe it.

“It’s… incredible.”

He takes a few steps back and shifts back. I watch in wonder as the long nails retract and his skin starts to reappear. Soon he’s naked and standing before me.

“Do you believe me now?” He asks and I nod wordlessly.

“Do you have any other questions?” He asks.

“Where’s the bedroom?”

His eyebrows rise but then he starts to smile.

“Right through there,” he says, nodding to a door behind me.

I start to head that way and look back at him over my shoulder.

“Are you coming?” I ask when I see that he’s still rooted to the same spot.

He leaps over the couch and I giggle as I run into the bedroom.

For such a tall, muscled man, Kade moves with surprising speed as he chases me into the bedroom. We both stop next to the bed and I step toward him this time and reach out to trail my fingers over his muscular shoulders and defined chest.

It still feels weird to be seeing him naked but I’m quickly getting past it. I let my fingers wander down the dips and grooves of his perfect abs, and then I wrap my hand around his solid cock. I have zero experience in this department, but even I know he’s huge.

“Fuck, you’ve got to stop,” he groans. “I’m going to come if you keep touching me like that, but I want to do it in your pussy first.”

I withdraw my hand, but not before swiping up the drop of precum that was leaking out of the head of his cock. I lift my thumb up to my lips and suck off his salty seed. Kade snarls like the barely restrained beast that he is, and he moves to tear my clothes off.

Before I know it, he’s pulling my shirt over my head and peeling my pants down my legs. He rips my underwear clear off of me and I reach behind me, unsnapping my bra before he can rip that to shreds too.

He grips my hips, spinning me around and shoving me backward onto the bed. He pounces on me a second later, kissing my eyelids, my nose, my lips, down my neck, until he takes one breast into his mouth, and sucks on my pebbled, sensitive nipple.

“Oh!” I gasp in surprise when I feel the tugging, tingling feeling in my nipple all the way down to my clit. I wrap my legs around his hips, moaning when I feel his hard length slide up and down my folds.

He leans back on his knees and massages my thigh with one hand while reaching out with the other to caress my cheek sweetly. He runs the back of his knuckles over my cheek, down the hollow of my neck, lower, lower, until he reaches my mound. Kade slides two fingers up and down my slit before he thrusts one finger inside of me and twists.

“K-Kade!” I whimper, bucking my hips and bowing my back off the mattress.

“So tight. So perfect,” he pants and I can only whine as the pressure inside of me builds and builds.

His mouth follows the same path as his hand, licking and kissing down my torso until he scoots down the bed and parts my folds with his nose. “Need a taste before I claim you, mate,” he grunts.

With that, he covers my hot flesh with his mouth, working me up with deft licks of his tongue in my dripping hole. His teeth catch on my clit and tug before he sucks and strokes me again, sending soft moans echoing around the walls of the cabin.

Kade spears his tongue inside of me, scooping out my juices and dragging them up to my clit, where he draws figure eights with the tip of his talented tongue. I grip his hair in my fists and hold him there, my hips jerking and thrusting all on their own as I ride his face and scream his name. Kade presses one large hand over my lower stomach, intensifying the already growing pressure there.

My muscles draw up tight, my thighs shake, my hands claw at his scalp, and then I gasp for air as a powerful orgasm is wrung from my bones. My core contracts again and again as my release rolls through me, leaving me weak and out of breath.

“Fucking gorgeous,” Kade whispers as he places open-mouthed kisses up my torso until he reaches my lips. “Love watching you come, Elle. Now I want to feel you do it on my swollen fucking cock.”

I nod my head and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him against me so I can kiss him feverishly. When we come up for air, Kade rolls his forehead on mine and takes a deep breath while stroking my hair so tenderly.

“Are you sure about this? I can barely form a thought right now, but I need to hear you say it one more time.”

“I want this, Kade. Show me what it feels like to be your mate. Claim me, Kade. I’m already yours.”

I spread my legs wider for him as he rests his heavy cock against the seam of my pussy, thrusting through my folds and tapping my clit with the head. Kade holds himself up on one forearm and grabs his shaft with his other hand, guiding himself to my entrance. He stares into my eyes with such intensity, such raw emotion, such vulnerability that any lingering fear or doubt is completely wiped away.

“I love you, Elle,” he whispers right before sliding inside of me in one, long thrust.

I gasp and whimper, blinking away tears as I adjust to the feeling of him splitting me open. I dig my fingernails into his shoulders until the initial pain passes, leaving only pleasure behind.

“You okay, love?”

I smile at his name for me and nod my head. “I’m good.”

Kade kisses my forehead and then nuzzles into the crook of my neck. “I want to be this close all the time. I never want to leave. You feel so fucking good.”

He slowly pulls out, and we both look in between us, watching his huge dick withdraw from my pussy, covered in my juices as well as my virginity.

“Jesus,” he grunts. “So goddamn perfect.”

I watch as he sinks inside of me again and again, picking up speed. Kade tips his head back and growls savagely when I hook my ankles together behind his back. I wiggle my hips and press my heels into his ass, taking him deeper and deeper with each thrust. He swivels his hips and hits some spot deep inside of me, making me tense and squeeze my pussy around him as I cry out his name.

“That’s it, beautiful,” he groans, hitting that spot over and over, hammering into me until I shatter.

“Yes! Ohmygod, I… Ohmygod, Kade!” I repeat his name, again and again, whispering it, shouting it, praying it silently in my head until the violent spasms of my pussy slow down.

I don’t get to bask in the afterglow for long, however. Kade flips over on his back, taking me with him so I’m straddling him, his thick dick still rock hard inside of me. I place my palms on his chest and push myself up, rolling my hips as I go.

“Shits, just like that. Ride my cock and come for me one more time, love.”

I slide up and down his shaft, tilting my hips until I find an angle that has us both crying out. I feel his hands glide up and down my thighs and hips, and then they cover my breasts, pressing them together and pinching my nipples. I buck my hips, causing Kade to throw his head back and hiss out a breath. Again and again, my pussy swallows his massive cock until my chest tightens and my muscles shake with the effort of holding myself up.

My overstimulated clit scrapes against the base of his shaft, and I dig my nails into his skin, biting my lip as I lose control. I feel my orgasm rattling around in my core, threatening to break free and destroy me completely.

Kade must sense the urgency in my movements. He grips my ass and helps me grind down on him, fucking up into me and shaking my breasts with each hard thrust.

“I’m going to mark you, mate,” he chokes out, adrenaline and pure ecstasy coursing through us both. Kade leans up, keeping me in his lap while sinking his teeth into my neck. As soon as he pierces my skin, fire races down my spine, turning into liquid bliss as I surrender to his bite.

Pain and pleasure mix, unlocking my release. I sob as it ravishes me, tearing me up, clawing at my insides, ripping a scream from deep in my chest. My trembling arms give out, and I collapse on Kade’s warm, muscled chest.

He wraps his arms around me, holding my sweaty body tightly against his as his hips jerk uncontrollably.

“Jesus, fuck, I’m coming. I’m coming so damn hard,” he growls.

I feel him empty his hot, sticky cum into me, making my cunt snap around his throbbing cock as an unexpected orgasm burns through my body. I bite his shoulder, causing Kade to roar out my name as one final burst of cum shoots out of him.

We stay wrapped up in each other’s arms, fused together as we float back down to earth. My cheek is pressed against his chest as I listen to his heart slow down to a steady rhythm. Kade traces his fingers up and down my spine in a calming motion.

“Yeah, I guess being your mate won’t suck in the bedroom department,” I sigh, giving him a lopsided grin.

Kade chuckles and then pinches my ass, making me jump and squeal.

“You guess?” he retorts, rubbing away the sting of his earlier pinch. The relatively innocent touch turns into a massage, both of his hands gripping my ass cheeks and kneading them. “Should we try again, just to make sure?”

I rub my body against his, feeling him harden inside of me as his hands work their way up my back. Kade tangles his fingers in my hair and tugs my head up, baring my neck to his greedy mouth. He licks over his bite mark, then sucks on the tender flesh, making me whimper. Kade gently rolls me onto my back and spreads my legs, entering me slowly this time.

We move together silently, staring into each other’s eyes, sharing all the love we have as we climb higher and higher together. Kade rests his forehead on mine as he empties his seed into me. I gasp and cling to him, kissing him and tasting the salty sweat on his lips while I come around him one last time.

“I love you so much, mate,” Kade whispers before rolling us on our sides and pulling a blanket over us.

“I love you too,” I murmur, placing a sweet kiss over his heart. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this safe, this cherished in my entire life. I lift my head up to tell him as much, but Kade is already asleep. He looks so peaceful and adorable. I snuggle deeper into his warmth, tucking my head under his chin and breathe in his leather and pine scent.

CHAPTER FIVE

KADE

I’VE NEVER WOKEN up with a smile on my face but I guess a lot of things are going to be different now that I’ve found my mate.

My wolf is curled up inside of me, finally content now that we have our mate and I smile to myself. I’ve never been this happy since…well, I don’t know if I was ever this happy before in my life.

There’s so much that we still need to figure out. Where are we going to live? How many pups are we going to have? A million questions race through my mind but they can all wait. Right now, I need to give my mate a proper good morning kiss.

I roll over in bed, grinning, but that quickly changes when I find that Elle’s side of the bed is empty. Anger wells up inside of me.

She just left? Just like that? Why? What did I do? Did she not feel the connection between us? Doesn’t she realize how precious she is? She’s so beautiful that I know there will be others chasing after her.

My wolf growls at the thought of another man even looking at my mate. I reach out, feeling the sheets and when I realize that they’re cold, I start to panic.

Did I hurt her? Did I do something to upset her? She could be in danger right now!

My wolf is up and pacing inside of me, demanding that I find her and keep her close to our side at all times in the future.

We’re on the same page with that and I leap out of bed, tugging on the first thing that I find and heading to look around the hotel room.

Maybe she got hungry and went to find something to eat. I should have been awake and taking care of her needs.

My wolf howls, feeling ashamed for being such a bad mate.

We’ll do better, I promise him as I search the hotel room.

It’s not very big and so it becomes obvious that she’s gone right away. Her shoes are missing and I know that she must have gone home. I should have found out where she lived last night but I was too focused on explaining shifters to her and convincing her to give me a chance.

I slip my shoes on, swipe the room key off the dresser and head out to find her.

I follow her scent downstairs and out into the village. My wolf is on high alert as we make our way down the cobblestone streets, tracking her sweet scent.

It leads me to the bakery and I frown.

Would she have really gotten up and gone to work so early? Why didn’t she wake me? I would have walked her and sat at the counter to keep her company.

I head to the front door, but the bakery is still closed. It’s only just after five in the morning and the streets are deserted. I’m sure that everyone is still tired from the party last night. I wonder if King Koda found his mate last night too.

I head around the side to the door that I first saw her at last night and try the handle. It’s unlocked and I pull it open, stepping inside.

I’m prepared to demand to know why Elle left my bed last night and beg and plead with her to come back but when I see what’s happening in the back room, those thoughts leave my head.

I bare my teeth as I stare at the older woman who has a tight hold on my Elle’s arm.

“Let her go,” I growl and the woman glares at me but releases my mate’s arm.

I can see the red marks from here on her pale skin and my wolf snarls inside of me. He wants to rip her apart for hurting our mate but I hold him back. I don’t think that Elle would like us killing in front of her, even if it was to protect her.

“What’s going on here?” I ask, my voice tight with anger.

“Who the hell are you?” The lady asks, her face red with anger and I watch as her hands land on her hips in annoyance.

“I’m her… I’m with her,” I answer.

The woman is human so I can’t say mate.

“We’re having a discussion,” the lady says and I glare at her.

I can see Elle and she looks shaken up. It’s obvious that it wasn’t just a discussion. She was yelling and hurting my mate and I can’t allow that.

“You’re her boss here?” I guess and the lady lifts her chin.

“I am, and you’re not welcome here.”

“That doesn’t matter. We won’t be back. She quits,” I snarl at her.

I reach past the awful woman and grab hold of Elle, making sure to keep my touch light in case she’s hurt. We turn and I drag Elle out behind me.

She’s silent as we head down the empty street and I think that maybe she’s just in shock or still processing what her boss did.

I lead her past the hotel and into the forest. Being in nature always makes me feel better and I’m hoping that it’s the same for her.

My wolf paces inside of me. He still wants to go back and tear into that lady for upsetting Elle but I hold him back.

We need to make sure that she’s okay, I remind him and he huffs but calms inside of me.

I turn to her once we’re surrounded by trees and I’m expecting her to hug me or maybe fall to pieces in my arms.

Instead, I’m met with her hand slapping my cheek.

CHAPTER SIX

ELLE

“DAMMIT!” I hiss as pain radiates across my hand and down my forearm.

I grit my teeth, turning to pace away from Kade in the forest clearing. He follows after me and I glare at him.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight again,” he says unapologetically.

“Screw you,” I spit at him and he frowns.

He looks wounded by my words more so than when I hit him.

I look away from him, trying to get my emotions under control. Tears sting my eyes as I think about what happened this morning.

I had gotten to work a few minutes late and was surprised to see Mary there waiting for me. She was still dressed in her evening gown from the night before so I’m guessing that she stopped by on her way home.

She had been tired and cranky and I knew as soon as she glared at me that it was going to be a rough morning.

She had yelled and screamed at me for being late, called me a whore because I was showing up to work in yesterday’s clothes and I don’t know how, but she knew that I had slept with someone last night.

Things had spiraled so fast. I barely remember what she was saying. It was all just her yelling and screaming, calling me lazy and other less than nice names. When I didn’t jump to work fast enough, she had grabbed my arm and started to drag me.

That’s when Kade had come in.

I had been relieved to see him. I knew that he would keep me safe and get me out of this mess. I just didn’t know that he was going to quit for me.

“I needed that job,” I tell him, my voice sounding hoarse in the quiet forest.

“No, you don’t. You have me now.”

I sniffle and roll my eyes, trying to stem the flow of tears but it’s no use.

“Don’t cry, Elle. Please don’t cry,” he begs and I turn away from him, trying desperately to wipe the tears from my cheeks.

“You shouldn’t have done that. I had it under control,” I tell him and I hear him move closer to me.

“I was protecting you. I’ll always protect you.”

“You quit my job for me!” I yell at him as I spin around to face him. “You had no right to do that.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted to get you away from that awful woman.”

“Well, what am I going to do now? I have no job, nowhere else in town is hiring, and I’m not going to be able to pay my bills.”

“I can pay the bills,” he says and I glare at him.

“How?”

“I’ve saved every penny since I was a kid. Every birthday check or Christmas money went into savings. I worked at this bookstore near our pack since I was fifteen and I never really had anything to spend it on. I can take care of us.”

“How can I trust you now? After you did this?”

“Listen, you might not believe in us, but I do. I would do anything to make you happy and to keep you safe. I’ve never been with anyone before. Shifters don’t really date. There’s no point to dating. I’m going to learn to please you though. I promise.”

My heart melts at his words, at how earnest he looks.

“I’ll die without you, Elle. If you reject me, my heart will break and I’ll die. Please forgive me. Please give me a chance to fix this and make it up for you.”

My mind goes back to last night and how it felt to be with him. He was so kind and sweet with me. My body warms as I remember him moving inside of me and I swear I almost come just thinking about the way that he licked his bite mark on my neck.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe I should trust him. I’ve never dated either and I’m sure that I’m going to make mistakes too. Maybe I should follow my heart instead of my head for once.

“Elle, please,” he begs and when he drops to his knees before me, I break.

“I forgive you. I’m not leaving you,” I say and he grips my hips, pulling me closer to him.

With him on his knees, we’re actually eye to eye and I lean forward, claiming his lips with mine.

The kiss starts as soft and gentle but soon it turns almost feral. It’s rough and messy and perfect. He’s as desperate for me as I am for him. I’ve heard that makeup sex was supposed to be best and as my body molds to Kade’s I wonder if it’s true. Kade claims me as he slips his tongue into my mouth, licking every inch of me and winding me up more and more. He nips my bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth before diving back in.

I honestly think I might erupt in a ball of flames if he doesn’t do something about the inferno he’s created in my core. It’s spreading throughout my whole body and I shiver as his fingers brush over the mark on my neck.

“Kade,” I gasp as we break apart and he gives me a devilish grin.

“Now, how about you let me really make it up to you?” He says as his hands go to the button of my jeans and I grin as I let him tug them down my thighs.

CHAPTER SEVEN

KADE

Five Years Later

“I DON’T KNOW how you talked me into this,” Elle says as I lead her out the back door and a few feet away into the forest.

“It’s because you love me,” I tell her with a smirk over my shoulder.

It’s dark out and our kids are fast asleep so I’m sneaking my mate away for a little alone time. It’s a hard thing to come by with two little ones at home.

We head into the woods that border our backyard and I lead her over to the stream that runs across the corner of our property. I’ve set up a little moonlit picnic for us. It’s our five year anniversary and another full moon.

I can feel the mating heat bearing down on both of us and we both pick up our pace.

Elle and I left the Righ Kingdom right after we made up. We moved to a tiny village between King Koda’s and King Ryker’s land. There’s a small village there but we don’t live in it. We have a house a few miles away. It’s nestled in the forest, far away from anyone else and that’s just the way that we like it.

We built a nice two story house in the middle of the forest. I made sure to have lots of bedrooms added to the house. I was hoping that Elle would want a big family. We’ve already filled half of the bedrooms and Elle uses one for her office.

“How much further?” Elle asks and I squeeze her hand.

“Just a little bit. We’re almost there,” I assure her.

We round the last bend and Elle gasps when she sees the blanket laid out before us. There are twinkle lights hanging in the tree branches above us, providing light for Elle to see. My wolf and I can see just fine.

My wolf licks his lips as our mate walks in front of us toward the picnic blanket. He can’t wait to get down and dirty with her.

“This is wonderful,” Elle says as she takes a seat on the blanket.

“Are you hungry?” I ask her and she gives me a knowing look.

“Uh huh,” she says and my wolf howls inside of me when we see the lustful look in her eyes.

Elle gave birth to our son, Axel, nine months after we mated. I know that we created him that first night together.

We found out that she was pregnant again right after we celebrated Axel’s first birthday. Rose, our little girl, was born nine months later. Elle says that she thinks maybe we should have one more and I’m hoping to put another baby in her tonight.

It finally feels like the perfect time. Elle just finished her latest book and so she should be done with her next project by the time our next baby is here.

Elle started writing books once we moved to this town. She couldn’t find a job here either since no one was hiring and she confessed that she always wanted to write a book. I was happy to support her and all of her dreams.

She sold her first book right after Axel was born and she asked me to be her agent and help with all of the contracts and business dealings.

She’s only grown since then. She has a huge following now and I couldn’t be happier for her. Elle deserves nothing but the best in life and I’ll do anything to make sure that she gets it.

My mate leans back on her elbows, her foot rubbing against my leg and I raise an eyebrow at her.

“Are you ready to try for baby number three?” Elle asks with a sexy smirk and I grin wolfishly.

I pounce on her in the next instant and my wolf and I both growl as we get lost in our mate.

About the Authors

Cameron Hart & Shaw Hart are a duo of romance authors who teamed up to write under the pseudonym, Skye Alder. They share a love of comedy TV shows, matcha tea, and trying their very best to do yoga.

When they aren’t bonding over funny memes, they like to brainstorm new book ideas. One day, they decided to collaborate and have some fun creating new characters and worlds that will make you blush and have your heart melting.

If you enjoy sweet and sexy paranormal romance books (Specifically shifter romances!) then a Skye Alder book is for you!

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A CORRUPTION OF FEATHER AND FATE

STEPHANIE ANNE

HE MIGHT HAVE the face of an angel, but that smile of his… it’s all devious charm.

And it’s directed right at me.

The stranger’s gaze burns into me from across the bar, glowing in the low artificial flickering light. Tonight, a baseball cap casts shadows over his sharp features, smothering his dark curls. But I’ve seen him three times before tonight, each time only a small fraction of his face, but each time, I’ve found his eyes on me.

Tonight is no different.

I return to my drink, cupping either side of the wineglass. My phone, which sits on the table beside me, buzzes with an incoming text.

Sorry I’m late! Be there in 10!

I suck on my bottom lip, but type out a quick reply. Violet responds almost immediately with another apology and a promise to make it up to me. Her idea of making it up to me usually ends in re-watching Supernatural with wine and chocolate.

But having her at my side tonight would calm the churning in my stomach. Because of the stranger. Sexy Stranger, we–she–nicknamed him. The shadow glued to my ass. Either I’m hyper aware of his presence, or it’s too much of a coincidence that he’s everywhere I go.

I heave a sigh and pick up the almost empty wine glass. The dark burgundy liquid swirls as I bring it to my lips, cheap and sour on my tongue. But it’s familiar and takes the edge off a long stressful day, and that’s exactly what I fucking need.

A strong, cloying smell of body-spray and beer overpowers the glass of wine… and just about everything else in the bar. My nose scrunches as I down the final dregs. Empty, I set the glass down on a worn coaster. When the smell doesn’t disappear, I finally take a chance to look up.

Watery-blue eyes meet mine over a bottle of Budweiser, sandy blonde hair swept back over his wide forehead. He’s a generic kind of attractive that probably peaked in high school, destined for a long road of dead-ends and a sad future. I look back at a table full of guys just like him. Likely out of college or a business bro trying to relive his glory days in a polo and khakis, picking up college girls in a small bar.

His name is most definitely Chad.

I release a breath and glance down at my phone. “Can I help you with something?”

He chuckles under his breath. “You look lonely, sweetheart,” he says, words—and smile—slurring. “You need some company?”

My gaze flickers to the stranger, who has perked up from where he sits across the bar. His smile is gone, eyes ablaze, shoulders tense beneath his grey shirt. His hand tightens around a bottle of beer, but he doesn’t move.

Our eyes connect, and even from this distance, there’s a spark that ignites in the pit of my belly.

“Well?” Chad prods.

I drop the stranger’s gaze and return my attention to the man beside me. “No thanks,” I reply with a tight smile. “I’m waiting for someone.”

Someone who owes me big-time.

“C’mon sweetheart,” he drawls, leaning in closer, cheap beer clinging to his breath and eyes roaming my body. “I like chubby girls.”

His eyes say fuck-me-I’m-yours but his words rub me in a mid-summer-thigh-chaffing-in-a-mini-skirt kind of way. What he thinks is a compliment is just a straight up arrow to the gut, and my skin crawls as the words replay in my head over and over again.

I close my eyes for a moment, then release a breath. Blood pounds in my ears, drowning out the 80’s music drifting through the bar, drowning out the frat-boys behind me hollering and cooing over their friend approaching the fat girl.

Finally, I give Chad a once over. “I might be ‘chubby’ but I’m not stupid. You can take your offer and shove it up your ass.”

My heart thunders as I stand, my gaze flickers to the stranger. He goes still, like he isn’t breathing, and his eyes aren’t on me–they’re on the prick beside me. I take a step back, and Chad huffs, rolling his eyes. Under his breath, he mutters, “I wasn’t interested anyway, bitch.”

I pause, only a step from the table. His words burn like a slap across my cheek. They’re words I’m used to hearing, and yet they sting every time I hear them.

A brush of air smelling of wood-fire and cinnamon tickles my nose, and suddenly the golden-eyed stranger is no longer across the room, watching. Chad’s beer bottle hits the ground and I flinch, stepping back. The bar goes silent as the stranger slams Chad into the sticky wood surface, a tense hand around Chad’s throat.

“I’d apologise now, if I were you,” he says darkly, an accent, maybe Scottish, lilting his words. A shiver spreads down my spine, and I back away a step as Chad’s watery blue eyes find mine.

“I’m-I’m s-sorry.” His throat bobs, gaze flickering from me back to the stranger. “Seriously.”

The stranger cocks his head as Chad’s friends rise from their table. They look like they’re ready to tackle him.

Just as I think the stranger might snap Chad’s neck, he takes an abrupt step back. The ball-cap leaves a shadow over his face, but it doesn’t hide the deep, angry set of his brow, or the tic of his jaw.

But there’s something about him that makes my spine tingle. We’ve never been this close before; it’s almost overwhelming. There are red highlights hidden within the jet-black of his hair which brushes the nape of his neck, the skin sun-kissed and golden, warm. The sleeves of his dark grey shirt are rolled up to his elbows, revealing a tangle of dark tattoos over coiled muscle.

I almost flinch as his eyes meet mine. The burning gold electrifies my blood, sending a bolt of warmth through my body.

The stranger tips his hat in my direction, and reaches for my hand. Frozen, I let him take it and bring my fingers to his lips. My breath stills in my lungs.

The brush of his lips is like fire against my skin, fire that ravages my body and consumes my soul, makes my toes curl and stomach do flips.

The touch only lasts a moment and yet feels like an eternity.

When he pulls away, the warmth disappears, and I’m left cold, craving more of his touch. But I blink, and suddenly he’s stepping around me, a phantom brushing past, the smell of wood-smoke and cinnamon following him.

There has always been something strange about him, something ethereal.

Something…

I grab my discarded phone and shove it into my back pocket, picking up my purse from the table before rushing after him. The bar comes alive again, as if they’ve already forgotten Chad and the hand that had been around his throat, forgotten the stranger and his fury.

But I can’t… I won’t.

Rain has drenched the streets in the last two hours I’ve spent sitting alone in the bar, coating the bitumen and leaving that wonderful after-the-rain smell lingering in the air. But the sky is clear, alight with city pollution, a soft smattering of stars igniting the sky.

Ahead, the stranger rounds the corner and enters an alley behind the bar, head lowered, chin tipped down to his chest. I quicken my pace and follow, ignoring Violet’s call coming through, ignoring the furious voice in the back of my head warning me that following him into a dark alley is a bad idea.

But it’s obvious as I follow him what he is.

Fallen.

An angel of heaven, left to the corruption of earth and the devil himself.

The stranger halts several feet down the alley and spins to face me. Up close, even in the dark, he’s gorgeous, all sharp angles and sweeping features. A strong, straight nose unblemished and feather-smooth, heavy brows that rest atop burning gold eyes.

Eyes that flicker from mine to my lips.

I swallow hard. “Who are you?”

A smile quirks his lips. “Who wants to know?”

“A worried citizen,” I reply, frowning. “You’ve been following me.”

“Have I?” He takes a step towards me, forcing me to back up. “Or have you been following me, princess?”

The warmth fills my belly again, sending a flush to my cheeks. “I know what you are. And I am not afraid of you.”

The stranger takes another step towards me. I back up again, slamming into the brick wall of the bar. I freeze, eyes wide, blood pounding.

His face hovers inches from mine, our noses almost touching. The smirk on his lips turns dark, wicked.

Devious.

“You should be,” he murmurs, burning eyes flickering down to my lips again.

I tense and tighten my hands into fists to keep them from inching towards my purse. I know I should believe his words, but if I’ve learnt anything since entering this world, it’s that showing fear—and giving into it—will get me killed so much faster.

“You’re an angel,” I say, finding my voice, sticking out my chin in defiance. “Fallen.”

Surprise twists his face, and for a moment, I wonder if I’ve left him speechless. He doesn’t back down though, and instead his eyes burn a ferocious molten gold.

Okay, so maybe I should be a little afraid.

The fallen slams his hand into the brick wall beside my head, chin lowering so our eyes can meet. “What do you know about my kind?”

I suck in a sharp breath. “Enough.”

His eyes narrow, then drop to the neckline of my sweater, where a dull pink scar lines my collarbone. I hold my breath as he lifts his other hand to graze the raised skin, warm fingers outlining the darkest memory of my heart.

I squeeze my eyes against an onslaught of memories; blood coating my tongue, the choking darkness and shadows wrapping around my frozen body, her hands reaching for me, lifeless eyes on mine.

Three breaths. One to calm my racing heart. Two for the memories to fall away. Three to come back from the darkness.

The fallen drops his hand and the memories fade like ink in water, creeping into the back of my mind. My eyes flutter open to find him watching me, brows furrowed, lips pulled down in… worry.

“Who did this to you?” He doesn’t move away, still close enough for our noses to touch.

“One of your kind,” I reply, biting my lip. “Who else?”

He cocks his head, lips twitching. Either in amusement or anger, I’m not entirely sure.

“You aren’t what I expected,” he murmurs, thumb brushing against my bottom lip.

I swallow hard. “What were you expecting, then?”

A smile twitches at the corner of his lips, dimples taking form. “Something else…” His hand falls away, a darkness shadowing his beautiful eyes.

“Sam!” I spin and find Violet standing in the entrance of the alley, her eyes wide and concerned, phone in one hand, the other held up in confusion. “I’ve been calling you! What the hell are you doing?”

“I–” The warmth that had belonged to the fallen angel disappeared. I turn to him, to give Vi some half-assed explanation, but he’s already gone, leaving a black feather in his place.

I HAVEN’T SEEN the fallen angel since the bar.

Two weeks of silence has made me wonder if I’m crazy, if maybe everything that happened had been a mind trick caused by years of stress, research, and no answers. The incident that had put me on the scent of the fallen no longer feels like a distant memory; it shadows me during the day and tortures me in my sleep.

I can’t get his eyes, the burning gold and strange look, out of my mind. He knows something, either about me or the incident. The way he spoke, almost as if he knew me… as if we’d met before. The surprise when I told him what I knew.

The feather remains hidden between the pages of a book on my bedside table, and every night since the bar I’ve studied it, hoping to understand what this all means.

I sigh, the textbook on my lap forgotten. Outside, the sky turns a dreary grey with the threat of rain, though I’m not at all surprised. The trees outside my window shudder under the force of the wind, bending and twisting to its will.

My phone buzzes on the bed beside me, a text from my mother flashing across the screen. I glance at it only for a moment, the message one I’m used to receiving.

Home late. Don’t stay up.

“So picking up takeout is out of the question, I guess,” I mutter to myself, shaking my head.

I type out a quick response before throwing the phone down into my bed. I drop my head into my hands and groan, scrubbing my hands over my face. A stress headache is worming its way out.

Coffee then. And maybe a muffin if mom left me one.

Lightning flashes across the sky, illuminating the garden below my window and the forest beyond. A dark figure catches my eye, black ball-cap flipped backwards to reveal the handsome face haunting my dreams. Despite the cold, he wears a dark shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal the intricate tattoos inked across his forearms.

He lifts his head and meets my stare, a wicked smirk playing at his devious lips.

Pursing my lips, I hesitate for a moment before crawling off the bed. There’s a voice in my head telling me not to move, to call someone and hide from the fallen angel. That voice warns me that what I’m about to do is irresponsible and stupid in so many ways.

But I don’t listen to it. I jump from the bed, phone in hand, and rush to my bedroom door. I grab a discarded sweater from a pile of clean laundry and throw it on as I leave the house, picking up a pair of boots as I go.

Thunder rumbles off in the distance as the back door slams shut. I follow an overgrown path around the side of the house where mom has planters filled with dead rose bushes. The forest surrounds our house, an ever-creeping hand that inches closer every year. I used to love spending time within its grasp, exploring the nooks of trees and following creeks in search of treasure.

I stopped after I turned 16.

The fallen is nowhere to be seen, the spot where he’d been standing empty. I curse under my breath and search the shadows of the trees, but he hasn’t hidden himself within the dark underbrush.

Did I imagine him?

I shake my head and run a hand through my hair, breathing hard against the frigid air.

A twig snaps behind me; I spin, heart racing, expecting him to jump out at me, sword of heaven in hand, ready to strike me down for what I know…

But there’s nothing there.

Just your mind playing tricks. I release a shaky breath.

“You scare easily.” The fallen angel appears beside me, smirking, golden eyes on mine. “Maybe a little too easy.”

I clench my jaw, stopping myself from snapping. “What are you doing here?”

“You summoned me,” he replies, taking a lazy step back. I follow him with my eyes, frowning. “The feather. That, and I’m your guardian angel.”

I snort. “Sure you are.”

He quirks a brow. “Don’t believe me?” He leans in, the scent of wood-smoke and cinnamon tickling my nose. “You’ve been dreaming of me. Naughty, little dreams about the two of us fu–”

“Alright.” I hold up a hand, stopping him. “Enough.”

He laughs, the sound warm and booming. His eyes crinkles as he grins, the dimples—stupid, stupid dimples—on full display. “Too. Easy,” he says once he finishes.

I glare up at him. “Why are you really here?”

“We need to have a little chat, you and I.”

That nagging little voice in the back of my head speaks up again, telling me this definitely isn’t a good idea. But isn’t this exactly what I’ve been wanting? One-on-one time with one of them? To get the answers I’ve only ever dreamed of?

And he’s giving it to me on a silver platter.

“Why?” I ask, crossing my arms. Maybe it’s a little too good to be true.

The angel takes a lazy step towards me. “Afraid?”

“No, but I’m not stupid.”

His eyes trail my body, leaving a wake of heat that makes my heart flutter, and other… parts come alive. “Don’t worry, princess,” he drawls, lips quirking. “I’ll have you home by ten.”

I press my lips into a firm line to stop myself from smiling. “Fine. Let’s get on with it.”

THE SILENCE between us is still, but not awkward. Some song I don’t recognise plays softly on the local radio station, the tune calming despite the situation I’m in. But the longer we drive, the more I begin to wonder if I’ve made a mistake in trusting him.

He hasn’t broken the silence, and I’m afraid to be the one to start.

Every so often, I feel his eyes on me. They burn just like every other part of him. I wonder why, though. “Why do fallen angels burn so hot?” I ask, shattering the mutual quiet. “My theory is that it has something to do with the fall. Like falling to earth, you would burn. Or it’s symbolic of burning in hell.”

He cuts me a glance and chuckles. “You think I’m hot?”

My cheeks grow warm under his gaze. “That—that is not at all what I’m saying.”

The fallen turns off the main road and onto a side street lined with old factories, all unused and abandoned. They stand tall and dark against the sky; the streetlamps that had once lined the footpaths remain unlit, leaving the road in darkness.

I tense, tightening my hands into fists in my lap. “Where are we going?”

Maybe I should have been paying more attention to the landscape. My phone is only on half battery, and one quick check tells me I won’t have decent service if something happens.

Closing my eyes, I wonder again if maybe I shouldn’t have gotten into his car.

The Jeep slows and turns into a lot. When the engine shuts off, I take in the barren landscape.

“What is this place?” I ask, stepping out of the Jeep. Charred wooden beams reach for the sky, what might have been the ceiling now ash and debris. It could have been a house, but the structure is so damaged, so… non-existent that I can’t tell. Shards of glass reflect the lightning like stars against the night sky, scattered within the black and hidden until the next strike against the clouds.

The briny smell of the ocean tells me we’re close to the water, but not much else.

I turn to the angel, who steps around the front of the Jeep. “A distant memory,” he replies, almost sadly.

I cock my head, but I ask nothing more about it. “Why are we here?”

He shrugs and crosses his arms. “Because we don’t need any interruptions.” He offers me a half-smile. “And because I want to see if this triggers anything for you.”

Frowning, I shake my head. “Should it?”

For a moment, he doesn’t reply, and instead turns to look up at the dark sky. “I wasn’t lying when I said I was your guardian angel.” He spares me a glance. “And I also wasn’t lying about the summons.”

My cheeks warm again, but I consider his words carefully. Over the last two weeks, he’s the only thing I’ve been able to think about, the one mystery I’d hoped would lead me to answers.

“If that were the case, then you would have been at my house the same night as the bar,” I say. “Why weren’t you?”

A smile curls his lips and he shakes his head. “You weren’t ready,” he replies. “And honestly, neither was I.”

“Why?”

“Because you shouldn’t know anything about me. Hell, you shouldn’t even be able to see me.” He lifts a brow, eyes grazing my body, stopping at the scar on my collarbone. “I guess it has something to do with that scar, though.” He takes a step towards me, but stops when I flinch. “What happened?”

“If you are my guardian angel, then you should know.”

He shakes his head. “There was a time where I… couldn’t be there.”

I wrap my arms around myself and focus on the ground; gravel crunches beneath my feet as I pace, littered with the glass of beer bottles. I don’t know why, but I hesitate with the truth. Hesitate telling him what really happened.

Memories of the incident creep into the forefront of my mind. “What do I call you?” I ask, changing the subject. “Guardian angel? Fallen? Asshole?”

He chuckles. “Az. You can call me Az, Samara.”

“Sam. I prefer Sam,” I reply, cutting him a quick glance.

“Alright, Sam. You didn’t answer my question.” His voice sends chills down my spine, my name a whisper on his lips, a caress against my skin.

I wonder what else he can caress…

I clear my throat and shove those thoughts from my mind. “It doesn’t matter.” I can’t help the disappointment that fills me, that spills into my voice as I continue to pace. Maybe he won’t be able to give me the answers I need.

The angel—Az—catches my hand, stopping me. A rush of warmth spreads up my arm and through my body, sending my good senses haywire. I should pull away, or at the very least slap his hand aside, but I don’t.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks softly, head cocked.

I bite the inside of my cheek. “Why are you here?”

His eyes narrow slightly; something passes across his gaze, and as he drops my hand, the cold rushes back in to fill the abyss his warmth created. “I’m here to protect you.”

“From what, exactly?” Fear casts a dark shadow over me, tightening my stomach and twisting it thoroughly.

Maybe he knows more about the incident than he’s letting on.

Or maybe they’ve found me.

I stare down at my hands; my fingers tremble as terrifying thoughts set in. What if something else happens? What if mom is hurt this time? Or Violet?

Have I made things worse, looking for the fallen?

Have I already killed us all for the truth?

Warm hands cup my cheeks, tipping my head up to meet his gaze. Az’s eyes fill with concern as he searches my face, and his fingertips trail electrifying sparks along my cheeks, down my neck to my shoulders.

“Sam, I want you to focus on me,” he says, hands moving up to cup my cheeks again. “What’s wrong?”

My tongue grows heavy in my mouth, words tasting like paper in the back of my throat. I shake my head and close my eyes, instead focusing on my breaths.

One to calm my racing heart. Two for the memories to fall away. Three to come back from the darkness.

But they don’t help. I continue to spiral.

Are they back?

Will they finish me?

Could they hurt Mom?

Have they found me?

“Fuck,” he whispers.

My breathing becomes harsher, faster. One to calm my racing heart. Two for the memories to fall away. Three to come back from the darkness.

The kiss shatters the darkness and fills me with light. The fears slip beneath the surface, tightly hidden away where Az’s warmth can’t touch them. I had wondered what it would be like to be kissed by him. Before knowing who he was, before being sure.

It’s nothing like I imagined.

His kiss is both heavenly and cruel, a beautiful gift bestowed by an angel but tricked by a demon. He tastes both sweet and sour, like sugar and lemon, both wonderful and overwhelming. And I crave it more than I have ever craved anything.

Az pulls away and sucks in a breath. My eyes flutter open to find him walking away, ball-cap in one hand, the other running through his hair.

I touch my fingers to my lips. “What—”

“I’m sorry,” he says, back to me. “I’m sorry, Sam.”

Lightning cracks across the sky, followed by the low rumble of thunder. “It’s okay,” I reply, dropping my hand. “I… thank you.”

His head snaps in my direction. “What?”

“I was panicking. Not exactly the best distraction, but it’s better than being slapped in the face.” He lifts a brow, lips twitching. I wave a hand. “My best friend. She’s an action-first, talk later type of person. Which is worrisome, considering she’s in med school.” I try to laugh, but it sounds broken even to my own ears.

His eyes don’t leave mine, but he starts for the Jeep. “We should go. I promised you’d be home by ten.”

Az passes me, back and shoulders tense. A different kind of fear worms its way into my head.

I’m not conventionally attractive by the standards of society. Being on the heavier side, I’m usually overlooked by men like Az. Attractive men, who have model girlfriends, who merely have to flash a smile and never have to ask for a thing.

Men like Az don’t kiss girls like me.

“That kiss… did it mean anything to you?” I ask, stopping short of his car and crossing my arms tightly over my chest.

The angel hesitates, hand hovering over the door handle. Head lowered, he sighs, and for a moment I don’t think he’s going to give me an answer, that he’ll brush it off and make some ridiculous joke that makes my stomach twist.

Maybe his silence is answer enough.

“Why am I even here, Az?” I throw my hands up in frustration. “I don’t understand, and you won’t give me a straight answer. You kissed me and walked away like it’s nothing. You’ll flirt and smile and tell me you’re here to protect me, but you won’t tell me from what. Are you lying to me? About all of this?”

“I have never lied to you,” he whispers, finally looking up, “and I never will.”

I clench my jaw and shake my head. “That doesn’t answer any of my other questions.”

He drops his hand and stalks towards me. “I will tell you everything,” he replies, catching my chin between his thumb and index finger. “But only once you’re safe.”

Pulling away, I purse my lips. “Not good enough.” I start for the car, blood pounding in my ears, mind racing with what he isn’t telling me. “Take me home,” I say without looking at him, throwing open the car door.

WE DON’T SPEAK the entire drive home.

My heart doesn’t stop pounding with each mile we cover; my cheeks burn with embarrassment, my lips forming an apology, but I don’t make a sound. Az keeps his eyes on the road. No flirting and no comments about the kiss.

A chill seeps through the thick layers of clothes and into my bones. At some point, I must doze off, the sound of rain lulling me to sleep, because when I wake I’m alone in my bedroom, Az nowhere to be seen.

A monsoon rages outside my window, rattling the glass with each gust of wind. The trees that surround my family home shudder and bend under the will of the storm, casting a darkness so thick I can barely see beyond the floodlights.

I blink and sit up in my bed. The garden beneath my window is empty, mom’s rose bushes littered with stray branches and trash, but otherwise there’s no reason for the floodlights being triggered. I squint and search the darkness around the forest beyond, but can’t make out anything besides tree trunks and shadows.

Is Az still around? I shake my head and press a hand to my chest.

If he were, he isn’t making himself known.

The bed creaks as I stand, the sheets messy, pillows littering the floor. My phone, on charge beside me, turns on as I shuffle past. 3AM glares up at me, and I rub my eyes. How long have I been asleep? I can’t remember what time it was when Az drove me home.

It must have been late. Mom should already be home, asleep in her room.

But the floodlight is still on.

I change out of my jeans and sweater and into pyjamas. Despite the storm raging outside, my bedroom is warm, almost stifling. I pick out a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top, sighing in ecstasy as the bra unclips and falls to the floor.

My stomach rumbles, reminding me I haven’t eaten since lunch. But my mind flashes back to Az, to his lips on mine. Subconsciously, I touch the corner of my mouth and wonder what it would be like to kiss him again.

I shake my head. He’s my guardian angel—or so he claims. He is nothing more than a pain in my ass, a possible distraction to keep me from learning the truth.

The house creaks and groans with age as I make my way down to the kitchen. I could walk the path blindfolded; the darkness wasn’t too thick though, making it easy to manoeuvre. But I keep my steps light, even as thunder makes the house shudder.

The kitchen is eerie at night; it sits at the back of the house with large windows that overlook the backyard and forest, a patio the only thing between the house and the wilds beyond.

I circle the counter, half asleep and hopeful that Mom left me a double-choc-chip muffin, or brought takeout home with her.

But the fridge light doesn’t flicker on, and I sigh. Either the power is out everywhere, or something blew in the house. The storm likely knocked over a power line somewhere, but this house is so old it’s likely the latter option. But finding out the problem would mean a venture out into the storm, and that’s the last thing I want to do.

“Power’s out.”

I jump, slamming the fridge door shut. “What the hell, Az?”

His voice is quiet, still. I hadn’t even noticed him sitting in the kitchen, but as lightning scorches the dark clouds, I see him perfectly; the outline of his curls, ruffled and free of the ball-cap, the powerful lines of his body, tense and unmoving. The gentle rise of his shoulders as he straightens, like he can feel my eyes assessing him.

The fallen angel slides from the barstool and steps around the counter. “Your mom isn’t home, and I didn’t want you to be alone.”

I press a hand to my chest and feel my heart slam against my ribcage. It’s only Az. It’s not the bogeyman. Even as I repeat the words in my head, I can’t make my heart slow to a normal, human pace.

“So scaring me in my own kitchen is your way of keeping an eye on me?” I finally muster, swallowing hard as he gazes down at me with concern. I release a sigh and shake my head. “You shouldn’t be here. My mom–”

“She isn’t home.” Az reaches behind me and pulls something off the fridge. His arm skims my bare shoulder, raising the skin and sending a bolt of electricity through me. I hold my breath as he hands me a note.

Won’t be back till tomorrow. Staying overnight at the hospital.Call me in the morning.

xoxo, Mom

I crumple the note in my hand. A simple text would have sufficed. She must have come home and changed, then left again.

She does that a lot these days.

I throw the note in the trash and step around Az. “I don’t see why you need to be in my house.”

“I should have given you a real answer earlier,” he replies, catching my hand. I freeze and bite my lip. “And I’m sorry.”

Az releases my hand and trails his fingers up my arm to rest on my shoulder. He brushes aside my hair and leans in, breath fanning the skin of my neck. “Sam.”

I close my eyes. “Az?”

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispers. My breath catches as he leans in closer. “You undo me.”

He pulls away and puts distance between us, clearing his throat. “You should go back to bed. I can sit outside and keep an eye on you.”

Before I can stop myself, I shake my head. “No, I won’t make you do that.” Stomach in knots, I decide to forgo the muffin and instead start for the stairs, but stop in the doorway. A sick feeling settles over me. “Will you—–will you come up with me?” I ask. “Then you can come back down here. Actually, you should just come upstairs in case Mom comes home. The last thing I need is to answer any questions about you being here.”

Az narrows his eyes, but thankfully he doesn’t make a joke about my rambling or the fact that I just invited him up to my room. Instead, he follows, keeping a step behind.

The room is frigid and darker than when I had left it. The floodlight has finally flickered off, leaving the room to monstrous shadows formed by the monsoon and my own imagination.

I wrap my arms around myself and stare at the twisted sheets. Az stands behind me, not quite close enough to touch, but his warmth edges closer like a blanket I want to wrap around myself.

“I can leave if you want,” he says, breaking the silence.

A shudder slithers down my spine at the thought of truly being alone. “No,” I whisper, tensing, the icy cold tightening around my heart. “I don’t want you to leave.”

His eyes burn into mine, and he says nothing as I climb into the bed, a shaky breath escaping my lips. I clutch the heavy comforter in my hands and pull it up to protect me from his assessing gaze.

He waits a moment, lips parted slightly, like he was almost… afraid. I swallow hard and watch as he circles me, moving to the side that faces the window, like a barrier between me and the storm.

Az slips into the bed beside me and wraps an arm around my middle, the other moving beneath my head and the pillow. His chest warms my back, legs moulding to mine. I try to even out my breathing, to pretend like sleep is even an option, but my mind races with all that I’ve learnt, all that I’ve come to realise.

I have a guardian angel.

He is currently acting as my electric blanket.

My life has irrevocably changed.

He kissed me.

I wait for the moment he’ll get up and leave, tear himself away from me and disappear from my life for good. I’ve known him for a day, and already I’m not entirely sure what my life would be like without him.

Because without him, I may never know the truth.

Without him, my life will never go back to the way it was.

And I’m not entirely sure I want it to.

“What are you afraid of?” he whispers, breath fanning my ear and cheek.

I swallow thickly and try to suppress a shiver. The truth is like a bitter pill that catches in my throat and is hard to swallow, dry and painful. A lie crawls to the tip of my tongue, but I don’t let it pass the cage that is my teeth.

“Sam?”

I release a shuddering breath, tears burning my eyes. “I’m afraid of the fallen.”

Behind me, Az tenses. “Because of what happened to you. And your sister.”

I close my eyes, against the memories and the tears, against Az and his questions.

“What do you need, Sam?”

I shift in his arms to face him. This close, our noses touch, and our breath mingles. “I need a distraction,” I whisper. “I need to think about anything else. Even for a little while.”

His eyes burn as they flicker down to my lips. I inch closer as he sucks in a sharp breath. “Do you trust me?” he asks.

I don’t breathe as I nod.

“Close your eyes.”

At first, I’m not sure what to expect. The first brush of his lips is like a summer breeze, refreshing despite the heat.

The next is a summer storm, and I beg for it to break me.

His lips burn like fire against mine, setting the deepest parts of me ablaze. Az trails his fingers down the length of my body, over the hills of my stomach, stopping at the seam of my pyjama shorts where the cotton rests against the smooth skin of my thighs. He hoists my leg up and wedges his knee between mine, but doesn’t release me. Instead, that hand moves, leaving a trail of sparks in its wake, down to my ass, slipping beneath my shorts and wet panties.

I groan against his mouth as he catches my bottom lip between his teeth. A chuckle rumbles through his chest. “Tell me what you want,” he says, hand pausing at the seam of my panties. “Tell me what you need.”

“You,” I breathe. “I need you to touch me.”

He grins against my lips. “As you wish, princess.”

Az pulls away from me and rocks back, moving to his knees between my legs. I gaze up at him, chest heaving, and watch as he slides his thumbs beneath the waistbands of my shorts and panties, and tugs them down past my knees before discarding them.

I press my knees together as his eyes drift from mine, down to the soft skin of my thighs. He sucks in another sharp breath, eyes darkening. “You don’t need to hide from me.”

I let my knees fall open and wait for him to say the words.

I’m sorry, I need to leave.

Not really my type.

Let’s raincheck.

But he doesn’t. Az settles himself between my legs once more and kisses me like the world is on fire, and nothing else matters.

His hand returns to roaming my body, slipping down my side, grazing over my thigh to the throbbing flesh between my legs. I let my fingers trace the tattoos that circle his forearms, entranced by the thin jagged lines that cut like lightning across his skin.

I gasp in surprise and pleasure as he brushes a finger over my clit. A wicked grin tips Az’s lips, igniting a fire in his eyes that calls for something deep within me.

He sweeps his fingers over my pussy again, drawing another sound from my lips.

“Sam—”

“Just this,” I whisper, bucking against his fingers. “Just this tonight.”

There is no disappointment in his eyes, only the shimmer of a challenge. “Then I’ll make this count.”

His fingers finally slip inside me. I gasp as his thumb teases my clit, circling the bundle of nerves, teasing me with each stroke of his hand. Az presses his lips against my throat and trails kisses down to my collarbone, over my scar, grazing the raised skin with his teeth, sending a bolt of electricity through me.

He doesn’t stop, instead working his way down my body, planting kisses like wildfire. Each stretch mark turns from imperfection to worshipped scripture, a marvellous wonder only for him to discover.

Fire spreads through my body, following a path left by his lips. I gasp as he widens my legs and settles himself between my thighs. The anticipation builds as he kisses my inner thigh, inching closer to my throbbing clit. My breath is harsh in my own ears, blood pounding. The need for him builds a growing pressure within me, a need for release, for the distraction he is so willing to give me.

I need him, crave him, more than I expected.

Az skims his hand over the curve of my stomach, down to my thigh. He hitches it up further, never once baulking at the thickness of my body. Instead, he worships it with every touch, every kiss, expelling any fears I once had about how he saw me.

The kisses pause at the soft skin where the thigh ends. I stop breathing when his tongue flicks against my clit, spreading fire through my body. The second taste makes everything fall apart.

I clutch the sheets as he suckles, tongue flicking my throbbing clit. One of his large palms reaches up to massage my breast, while the other plays at the entrance of my pussy, teasing with two fingers.

The sound that leaves my lips is low when he enters me again. Each pump, each scrape of his fingers against the wall of my pussy pushes me closer to the edge. But his tongue…

“Az,” I moan, bucking against his hold, but he holds me down with his other hand while he continues to work inside me.

He stops his licking, only to look up at me. “You taste as sweet as I imagined you would, princess,” he says, voice low.

It’s enough to undo me. Pleasure rolls through me like waves, each one bringing me closer to the finish, each one giving me more and more of a reason to give into every base instinct.

“Az!” I come hard against his hand, tightening around his fingers. It’s earth shattering, so unbelievably amazing that I’m surprised by the sound I make when his lips feverishly meet mine again. If it weren’t for his free hand against my hip, I think I might have flown away.

The seconds tick by and Az finally pulls his fingers from me. He releases my lips and presses his forehead against mine. “How do you feel?” he asks.

It takes me a moment to gather my thoughts. Great, fantastic, like I can go again sprint to mind, but I say nothing. I’ve been fingered before. But not as… expertly. Not by a fucking angel. My breathing is still sharp and fast, the high of finishing slipping away, leaving me empty and craving more.

“Sam?”

The way my name rolls off his tongue snaps me from my stupor. I force my eyes open and drag my fingers from his shoulder, up into his hair. I guide his lips back to mine, deep and hard. He pulls me into him, licking the seam of my lips for entrance.

Before I can give into him further, before he can completely undo me again, I pull away. “Like I’ve been shattered, and you’ve helped pick up the pieces,” I reply honestly, closing my eyes. “And like I can sleep for three days.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “You should definitely sleep. And I promise I’ll be here when you wake.”

DEBRIS from the storm covers the driveway, but neither of our cars was damaged. My sedan is littered with leaves and branches, but lies otherwise untouched, while the Jeep sits at the end of the drive like an omen.

Az takes my hand and entwines our fingers, saying nothing as we approach. The sky has cleared, but the threat of darkness still looms on the horizon, barely hidden by the treetops. What does that mean for me, I wonder? What awaits me beyond the forest behind my house?

We slow to a stop in front of the Jeep. “I’ll be back later,” Az says, pulling me into him. I reach up and twirl a curl around my finger, marvelling at the red that shines through the jet-black. “I just have to deal with a few things.”

“Okay.” I nod, still staring at my hand, at his hair caught in the sunlight. “I don’t completely understand what’s going on, but thank you.”

Az cocks his head, a strange look entering his eyes. “Why are you thanking me?” he asked, giving me a half smile. “Are you going soft on me?”

I snort. “Never.” Pulling my hand free, I trace the sharp angle of his jaw, the bow of his upper lip, the dimple in his right cheek. “But I have a feeling about you.”

He quirks a brow. “You do?”

“Yep.” I give his cheeks a soft pat. “Because I have an angel blade that has your name on it if you ever fuck up again.”

The laugh that spills from his lips brings a smile to my face, and I don’t stop him when he leans down to kiss me. After last night, the feeling is different. The warmth is still there, and I still crave more of him, but there’s a softness in the way his lips mould against mine, in the gentle brush of his tongue along my bottom lip.

I could melt into this kiss, into his arms.

Instead, I pull away and step out of his embrace. “Text me when you plan to stop by. I don’t need to be scared in my kitchen again.”

“Whatever you need, princess.”

I start for the house, my head swimming. What am I getting myself into? The me of three weeks ago would murder the me of now. So what changed?

What has Az done to me?

I come to a stop. “Will you help me?” I ask, turning back to him. “Will you help me find the truth?”

“Of course,” Az replies, approaching. He takes my hand and pulls it to his lips, kissing each finger slowly. “I’ll do anything for you, princess.”

I pull my hand free and shake my head. “I mean it. Will you help me find out what really happened? Why a fallen attacked me and my sister?”

His eyes grow serious, and he nods, all amusement falling from his face. “I’m your guardian angel, Sam,” he murmurs. “There’s nothing I won’t do for you.”

A sense of relief washes through me, and a new hope that maybe, just maybe, I’ll be able to help her and understand what really happened that night.

The smile returns to his face as he pulls his ball cap from his back pocket and fits it atop his head, smothering his curls. “Later, princess.”

“Later, asshole.”

Az chuckles and leaves me in the middle of the driveway, pulling his keys from his pocket. I can’t help but watch him stride so confidently to the Jeep, marvelling at why an ethereal being like him could be so… human.

Why he’d care about a mortal like me…

“Az.” He stops and leans back against the hood of the Jeep. “Why do you call me that?” I ask.

He lifts a brow. “Inside joke.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” I reply, crossing my arms. “And I don’t like it.”

“You sure as hell did last night.” My cheeks warm as those damn dimples reappear with his grin. “You’ll understand, one day.”

I snort, but my heart flutters, and my stomach does a somersault that would make any gymnast jealous. I go to turn, but the smile slips from his face.

“Sam.” Az shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Beneath his ball cap, he meets my eye. “I love you.”

The words catch me off guard; a soft laugh bubbles from my lips, and I cover my mouth with my hand. “Oh?” I quirk my brow. “So that’s the real reason why you’ve been stalking me?”

He takes a lazy step towards me, pushing off the hood of the car. His devilish lips pull up in a smirk, but his burning eyes are serious. As he approaches, his hands fall from his pockets and he rolls his shoulders back, each step steady, matching every pounding beat of my heart.

Az stops in front of me and lifts his hand up to cup my cheek, forcing me to meet his stare. The smirk is gone, shedding the layer of protection he’s been using against me since we met. The facade falls before my eyes, the banter and smirks, the ego and the attitude, stripped away to reveal the angel who fell, who crashed to earth with no way to survive.

“Your soul…” Az whispers, fingers brushing the skin of my chest, over the thundering of my heart, “your soul is linked to mine. Has been for a thousand years and will be for a thousand more. And with every breath, every life and death, I will do anything to keep you safe. And make you mine.”

About the Author

Stephanie Anne is an Australian YA/NA fantasy author. Born in Tasmania and raised on the coast of New South Wales, Stephanie found her passion for writing - and reading - at the age of 11 after reading Vampire Academy by Richelle Mead. She now lives on the Gold Coast with her family, cat, and dog (Spud & Arya respectively) and is now undergoing a degree in Secondary Education. Stephanie is currently working on her debut series, the Shadowland Saga, and co-writes under Vivienne Archer.

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MISTER SERIES

EXTENDED EPILOGUE

SUZANNE BALTSAR

CHAPTER ONE

“I WON!”

“No! I win! I win!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Gem whispered into her glass of wine. “I’m going to throw that game into the lake,” she said, earning snickers from her three best friends.

“Lily, stop!”

Gem moved to stand up to go talk to her daughters, but Jason appeared in the doorway, his winter-blue eyes meeting his wife’s then shifting to his children fighting over Candy Land.

“Hey, girls, what’s going on? Why can I hear you down the hall?”

Gem sank to her elbows on the granite kitchen island as she watched her husband walk over to the three demons in the living room. He bent his long frame down to their level, taking a game piece from Lily’s hand. The two-year-old was in a destructive phase and constantly antagonizing her older sisters, Willow and Hazel.

Gem had heard once you got to three kids, they were supposed to take care of themselves. So far, she hadn’t found that to be true.

“Still going for that basketball team?” Laney asked, leaning her hip against the counter as she refilled her own glass of wine, hiding her growing smile as her son, Jack, sat at her feet, building with wooden blocks.

For all of Jason’s wonderful attributes—and there were many—he had a few bad ones, including how he wanted five kids, enough to field his own basketball team. That absolutely was not happening. Willow, Hazel, and Lily, otherwise known as chicken, duckie, and bird, were giving them a run for their money.

Gem snorted in reply to Laney. “I told him the shop was closed.”

“He could get the snip, like Mike did,” Sam offered, and Gem raised her glass in a cheers at the idea.

“You have to admit, though,” Bronte started, adjusting the video monitor lying on the island. Her one-year-old twins were asleep already. She, of course, had them scheduled to the second, and as soon as dinner was over, they were bathed and put down to sleep. “He’s so sweet with them. Doesn’t it make your ovaries weep a little looking at that?” she finished, tipping her chin in the direction of Jason as he pushed Hazel’s unruly hair back from her face while simultaneously making Willow laugh and hugging Lily to his side.

He was a wonderful husband and dad, a calm ship in their storm of estrogen. And he still looked damn good in a pair of dark jeans, snug around his thighs as he squatted down. His T-shirt tightened around his biceps, straining when all three girls tackled him to the floor, demanding to be held.

Gem plopped her chin in her hands. “Yeah, he’s a DILF.”

As if he’d heard her, Jason swung his face toward her, the same crooked smile she’d fallen in love with ten years ago slanting across his handsome face. He tilted his head back, daring her to enter the fray with him, and Gem lifted one eyebrow. He licked his lips in return.

This was a game they’d long ago perfected. Silently flirting in front of their girls.

“And a cocky son of a bitch too,” Gem said before setting her glass down to the quiet laughter of her friends.

“Resistance is futile,” Jason said, holding his hand up to Gem. When she placed her palm against his, he yanked her down to the floor to the happy giggles of their daughters. He hummed contentedly as he snaked his hand down to tuck into the back pocket of Gem’s jeans. “All my girls.” Starting with Gem, he gave each of his four girls smacking kisses on their cheeks.

Lily gave her dad one back in return, but her kisses were more along the lines of a lick from an eager puppy, and when she tried to kiss her sister, Willow pushed her away.

“Oh, come on, chicken,” Jason chided. “She’s trying to show you she loves you.”

Willow rolled her eyes. She was eight going on eighteen. “Is it time for dessert?”

Hazel popped her head up from the floor, nodding excitedly. “Uncle Chris said later, and it’s later now.”

Chris had bought cookie-decorating kits for all the kids, which they had taken full advantage of earlier in the afternoon, leaving streaks of icing all over the kitchen.

“I guess,” Gem said, tugging on a strand of Hazel’s light-brown hair. “Why don’t you go see if you can find him? Ask him where he put the cookies.”

Hazel took off, running down the hall toward the rec room, where the guys had all retreated to, watching a movie.

“Walk, duckie,” Jason called after her. “You’re going to fall with your socks on.” Hazel didn’t slow down, and he rolled his eyes over to Gem. “Doesn’t listen. Just like her mother.”

Gem pressed her hand to her chest. “Why do you always blame their bad traits on me?”

He sat up on his hands, extending his long legs out in front of him, giving her a bland look, and Gem refused to give in to a smile.

Jason was annoyingly perfect. Not only with his Ken-doll tan, hair, and the fact that he got up every morning at 5:30 to work out to keep his six-pack abs intact even at thirty-eight years old, but also because he was unendingly patient, never failed to make his girls laugh, and provided a great life for them, which allowed Gem to stay home with their daughters. Being a stay-at-home mom was something she’d never thought she’d enjoy, but it turned out, she loved spending every day with them.

She’d made Willow an expert at yoga before she even entered kindergarten, had taken Hazel to volunteer at an animal shelter twice a month, and took Lily to attend her first protest a few months ago. Jason had given Gem a life she’d never imagined for herself, and she wouldn’t change it for anything.

“You’ve got that look in your eyes,” he rasped in her ear as he slipped an arm around her shoulders while Willow allowed Lily to braid her hair, which really meant she twisted it around a few times. “What’re you thinking about in that pretty head of yours?”

Gem shifted onto her husband’s lap, not caring that her kids were a few feet away. She believed it was important they saw what a healthy, loving relationship looked like. If there was one goal Gem had in life, it was to raise smart, confident women who didn’t take shit from anybody, and their father held the gold standard for demonstrating how a woman should be treated.

She bent her head to whisper her thoughts that maybe her shop wasn’t completely closed, but before she could utter a single syllable, all the lights went out with a pop.

Willow and Lily shrieked, and Jason gathered them to him. “It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s only the lights.”

“Daddy, I scared!” Lily wailed, and Gem blinked around, trying to get her bearings. Jack started crying, and she saw Laney pick him up from the floor when Sam turned on her cell phone’s flashlight.

“Bird, shh,” Jason crooned, kissing Lily’s head, before passing her off to Gem. “It’s okay.”

This was their sixth year at this rental house in Tacoma. Every year, the whole gang got together for a week, but something like this had never occurred before. The power going out wasn’t the worst thing to happen, but in a house full of kids? Not ideal.

“Stay with your mom,” Jason told Willow and Lily. “Daddy’ll take care of it.”

Then he kissed Gem once on the lips, his fingers brushing over her jaw as he stood up.

That was one thing Gem knew would never change in this ever-changing world. Jason would take care of it. Of them.

BRONTE REACHED for the binder the owners of the rental house had left and flipped through it, using the flashlight of her own phone to read. In all the years they’d been coming here, they’d never experienced a power outage…if that’s what this was.

Or maybe it was a downed tree branch or frozen power line. They were in Washington in the middle of winter, after all. It could be anything.

Behind her, Laney tried to soothe her toddler while Sam searched for candles or anything else that could be used for light, when footsteps trounced down the hall.

“Mommy! The lights went out!” Stella shouted before throwing herself at Laney.

“I know, honey, but you need to use an inside voice.”

“Inside voice?” Sam said with a laugh.

Stella, Laney and Ethan’s four-year-old daughter, didn’t know what that was. Even though she took after Ethan with her dark hair and amber skin, she’d definitely inherited Laney’s personality.

“Shut it, you,” Laney tossed at Sam, not able to hold in her own laugh that echoed around the kitchen, just as the men walked in, convening around the island.

“The power’s out everywhere?” Ethan asked to no one in particular, ducking down to Laney’s shoulder, aiming a silly face at his son, though it did not succeed in drying his tears.

“Yep.” Jason was on his way back from the staircase. “I checked upstairs. Everything’s out.”

“Coulda been the storm yesterday,” Mike suggested, helping Sam with lighting the candles she’d found.

Chris looped his arm around Bronte as she read through the pages of the binder. “You okay?”

She nodded. “There’s nothing in here about an emergency like this.”

He kissed the nape of her neck. “We’ll figure it out.”

“But what about the baby monitor? There’s no signal. And we have all that the food in the refrigerator and freezer. What if it doesn’t come back—”

“Baby,” he murmured, and she could feel his smile against her skin. “It’s all right. We’ll figure it out.”

She shut the binder closed with an irritated flick of her wrist. “Who doesn’t plan for something like this? There should be emergency phone numbers in here.”

He turned her in his arms, pulling her close to his chest. “Not everybody is as well organized as you.”

She huffed as she circled her arms around her husband’s neck, watching their friends over his shoulder. “It scared me.”

“Me too. It all went out right as Elsa was throwing a sheet of ice across the castle. Thought she actually did it for a second.”

Bronte stifled her giggle into his neck. Chris was a pushover when it came to the kids, any of them. The guys had planned to watch Speed, but she guessed Stella had batted her eyelashes and Uncle Chris probably immediately relented.

Since Bronte and Chris had gotten married, he’d more or less retired from being in front of the camera and had opened up his own production company with his best friend, Wes. Now he was focused on producing and directing films, even beginning to dabble in writing. And one of his favorite things to do all year was spending a week in this cabin with their best friends. Their chosen family.

At Jack’s never-ending shrieking, Laney passed him off to Ethan, steering Stella to sit with Gem and her three girls.

“Buddy, you gotta be quiet,” Ethan told Jack, rubbing his back. “You’re going to wake the babies.”

But it was too late.

One of them squealed upstairs. Soon, they’d both be crying to be picked up.

“Sorry,” Ethan said with a wince in the candlelight.

“It happens.” Chris shrugged then he took Bronte’s hand, leading her upstairs by the light on his cell phone. As he opened the door to their twins’ room, he pocked his phone and let Bronte walk in first. She picked up Attie, so Chris went for Jo.

“What’s wrong, bubs?” Bronte cooed, bouncing their son. He wiggled in her arms as if he wanted down on the floor, but that wasn’t happening. Once he took off, there would be no way he was going back to sleep.

Chris lifted Jo up into the air, her legs kicking. “You need to go back to sleep, little one.” Settling her against his shoulder, he bent close to Attie’s face, saying quietly, “You too.”

Attie only babbled “Da-da” a few times in return.

“You want me to sing?” Chris asked, toggling his attention between the twins and Bronte, who nodded. With the little battery-powered night-light in the corner, she could see his smile when he asked, “Any requests?”

“Surprise us,” Bronte answered, swaying Attie back and forth.

He cleared his throat, kissed Jo on the head, then started in on his own version of “Can’t Help Falling in Love.”

Chris had read some article somewhere that said singing the same songs and reading the same books at bedtime helped the nighttime routine, so every night, he sang a rotation of the same five songs, all of them ballads from the 1950s. Listening to him sing was one of Bronte’s favorite things to do. Sometimes, when the babies had been a few months old and going through a sleep regression, Chris would go into their room and sing to them for a while until they fell back to sleep. Bronte would listen on the baby monitor, usually falling asleep right along with the twins.

These two had been a long time coming. After a miscarriage and then a few years of trying to get pregnant without any luck, Bronte and Chris had turned to in vitro fertilization, which was its own kind of special hell. Although holding their babies in her arms made it worth it.

It was no surprise how sensitive Bronte had been through the pregnancy and after, once they’d finally arrived, but it did amaze her how over-the-top protective and emotional Chris was. He’d been nervous, afraid to leave the hospital, as if he’d break them. He panicked he’d screw up somehow, fearful of hurting them physically by accident after reading about how parents had turned their back for one second, and the next thing they knew, their baby had rolled off the couch or bed or changing table. And that was with only one.

“We have two!” he’d said, his face stricken when the nurse handed over the discharge papers.

But a little over a year in and so far, so good. Chris was everything Bronte could ever want in a partner. He was sweet, supportive, and compassionate, and every time he held their babies or sang to them, she fell in love with him all over again.

Jo tugged on his hair, showing more signs of life than when they’d walked in, and he shook his head, forcing her little fingers to release the strands. He’d gone back to his long hair and beard, like when Bronte had first met him. The babies loved to play with his hair.

“You’re not tired at all, are you, Jojo?” he said to their daughter, and Bronte resituated Attie in her arms for the 117th time. He was determined to get on the floor.

“I think they know something’s up,” she said. “They’re afraid they’re missing out.”

Chris clucked his tongue, pursing his lips at Jo, who smacked at his face. In return, he playfully gnawed on her hand. “What do you think? Let them play for a little while?”

Bronte hefted Attie in the air. He was anything but the calm and solemn character they had named him after, Atticus Finch. Jo, on the other hand, was exactly like Josephine March. The twins loved to walk on the wild side, egging each other on, unafraid to climb on bookcases and attempt to ride their dog Taco, who hated the kids. He often hid under the bed, avoiding their grabby fingers.

“I guess,” Bronte said in answer to Chris. She turned to Attie, pursing her lips. “We’re on vacation, right? Your sleep schedule is supposed to be screwed up.”

“Whoa.” Chris reached out for Bronte, gently wrapping his hand around the curve of her cheek. He kissed the corner of her mouth, nuzzling his nose along her temple. “Who are you, and what have you done with my wife?”

WITH CANDLES FANNED out around the first floor, providing just enough of a glowing yellow light for everyone to avoid running into furniture, they all huddled in the living room.

“Party’s here,” Sam said when she spied Bronte and Chris walking down the steps with the twins. As soon as Bronte set Attie down, he took off. That kid was going to grow up to be a runner, that was for sure.

“Hey, slow down, my man,” Mike said, holding his hands out to Attie. “Or you’re going to bust your face.” Attie only let out a big belly laugh when Mike swung him up into the air.

All the kids loved their uncle Mike, always one to roughhouse with them, and he loved them right back. Though Sam and Mike had made the decision not to have children, they loved all of their adopted nieces and nephews and traveled to see them whenever possible.

That was the best part of living a childless existence: travel at the drop of a hat. They took trips as often and to as many faraway places as possible. After their city hall wedding and reception at a restaurant in Chicago, they’d spent their honeymoon backpacking all over Europe for a week, staying in seedy hostels and trying new foods from street carts.

But this week in Tacoma with their best friends was the one guarantee. It had been Bronte’s idea, her best one yet, to spend New Year’s together every year. Though spending it with the lights off was a first.

“Well, boys,” Mike started, tossing Attie down to the couch in a fit of giggles, “it’s gonna start getting cold soon. What’s the plan?”

Sam bit back a smile at her Marine, never quite able to lose his need to serve and protect, even after being discharged a decade ago.

“There was nothing in the binder?” Ethan asked Bronte, who shook her head.

“But I do have the owner’s number. I could give him a call.”

Mike pointed at her with a decisive nod. “You do that, and in the meantime, Jay and Chris, you want to try to find some flashlights or something for more light? Me and Ethan will get a fire going.”

Jason and Chris took off down the hall in their search, while Ethan bent over the fireplace, working with Mike to stack some logs and crumple up paper for kindling.

“Please, no one burn themselves,” Sam said. “You know how bad Bronte is around blood.”

“We got it,” Ethan assured her with his usual easygoing smile. “We’re all mountain men now.”

Laney snorted a laugh and swatted at his butt when he bent over again. Last year, the boys had been overly excited in building the fire, and a few sparks had flown out, singeing Ethan’s clothes. Even though this cabin was really more of a mansion built to look rustic, with every kind of technological amenity known to humanity, that fireplace was a traditional one that burned wood.

“Yes, soon you’ll be churning butter and building us a one-room schoolhouse,” Gem said, intercepting a pillow from Lily when it looked like she was about to smack Jack with it. That little antagonistic bird took after Gem the most and never failed to make Sam laugh.

Laney held up her phone. “Let me get a video of this for you, Mike. You can post it. Girls love this type of stuff.”

“What about me?” Ethan said, throwing his arm up at his wife.

“You’re not trying to get a deal with an apparel company,” Laney said, focusing her phone on Mike as he got down on the floor with a Zippo. Over the past few years, Mike had worked hard on growing his personal training business, and as Laney had planned, she’d made him an influencer, doing paid advertising for his favorite protein shakes and exercise equipment. He had hundreds of thousands of followers across different social media platforms, and his in-person training schedule was stacked. All the elite of Chicago wanted to work with him, but his clients were mostly veterans or those who needed adaptions because of physical disabilities. Mike used to fear he was a sad story people told behind his back, but now people talked about him because they were desperate to get on his waiting list.

Ethan pushed his glasses back up his nose with his index finger. “Chopped liver over here.”

“Didn’t hear you complaining about being chopped liver with that framed photo I gave you for Christmas.”

“Hey!” Gem hissed, covering Hazel’s ears. “Not in front of the children!”

Everybody chuckled since they all knew about Ethan and Laney’s obsession with giving each other nudes, and because Gem was definitely the most profane out of everyone, her telling someone else to watch their sexual innuendos was laughable.

As soon as Ethan and Mike had the fire going, the living room immediately warmed up, but Sam still gathered as many blankets as she could. Who knew how long it was going to be until the power was back on. As she finished passing them out to the kids, Chris and Jason returned.

“This was all they had.” Chris held up the single dingy plastic flashlight then smacked it on the palm of his hand once before turning it on. “Works, though.”

“I’m telling Bronte to leave a bad Yelp review,” Jason said, taking a seat behind Gem on the floor.

“Tell Bronte what?”

They all turned to the woman in question as Gem answered, “Leaving a bad review of this place. They only have one flashlight. The horror.”

“We’re out in the middle of the woods. There should be a minimum of three.”

“Of course,” Gem agreed a little snootily, earning herself a playful pinch from her husband.

“Well, the owner said we should check the fuse box,” Bronte said. “Might be a breaker.”

Mike nodded and took the flashlight from Chris. “Where is it?”

“Garage.”

“I’ll go,” Mike said, holding his hand up to the group, silently telling them to stay put, but Sam got up to follow anyway. “I got it,” he told her. “Stay here, where it’s warm.”

“I’m coming to help you look.”

He pinned her with one of his dark looks.

“What? You could fall and break something. Then where would we be?”

He let out an impatient grunt but said nothing else as he held out his hand to her, linking their fingers together, keeping her close while they walked down to the bottom floor.

This cabin was built into the side of a mountain, had three floors total, and a long driveway that led to the front door. But if you followed the pebbled road farther back down the mountain, it led right to the three-car garage, which opened up into the bottom floor. It held an exercise room, a bar, another living area and a mud room, leading out to the pool.

The house was excessively large, and though it made for a fantastic vacation home with all its bells and whistles, it was awfully creepy in the dark.

“Oh shit,” Sam gasped when they got to the bottom of the steps, where she’d forgotten a stupid stuffed deer head hung.

Mike threw his arm around her shoulders, pressing her head against his chest. “You all right?”

“I never remember Bambi is there.”

Since they only ever came in the middle of winter, there was no reason for them to go out into the pool, so they didn’t often come down to this level. Plus, Gem straight-up refused, unable to look a dead deer in the eyes.

“I told you to stay upstairs,” Mike reminded her quietly, his lips brushing over her ear before leading the way into the garage. He kept the flashlight moving side to side, in the same direction as his head, while he held his other hand back to Sam. “It’s over there. Watch your step here.”

Sam followed him, careful of the step down, and they made their way over to the fuse box. Mike read the labels and flicked on a couple of the breakers, which, according to Laney’s booming whoop upstairs, must have turned the lights back on. For her part, Sam found a toggle switch that turned on the lights in the garage, empty save for a few dirt bikes and a mower.

“My hero,” she said, holding out her arms to her husband, who picked her up and pressed her back against the wall, running his nose along the column of her throat.

“If we stayed down here for a few minutes, you think they’d notice?”

She wrapped her legs around his waist, tugging on the locks of his dark hair that had a few strands of silver running through it now. “Only maybe five minutes.”

He pressed an openmouthed kiss to her throat, his voice a quiet rumble. “You know I love a challenge.”

Sam’s laugh faded as Mike roamed his hand from her waist to her backside, wasting no more time on words. But that was one of the things she loved most about him, how he got right down to it.

“WE GOTTA anchor this down with something,” Jason said, holding on to a corner of a blanket. Ethan grabbed a couple of thick books and passed them to him. Willow, Hazel, and Stella wanted to build a fort, and that was all their dads needed to hear.

“Look at those two,” Laney said from her position on the floor, her attention on Ethan as he tried to fit his long and lanky frame into the fort, testing the stability. “Like they’re real architects or something.”

“Imagine living with that perfectionist.” Gem huffed a laugh, her chin jutting out in Jason’s direction. “The girls can never just build—they have to engineer.”

“I can see Stella being an engineer,” Bronte said, playing referee between the twins as they fought over a ring of plastic keys.

“Yeah, she’s got a brain like her father. I can’t—hey, no, Lily. That’s not being kind.”

Laney shrugged. Jack was on his third cookie. If Lily wanted to take one of his, she could. “He doesn’t need any more sugar.”

Gem shot her a look. “You think she needs any more?”

“All right.” Ethan clapped his hands once then stood back, admiring the handiwork of the fort. “Looks sturdy.”

But then Attie headed straight for it.

“No way, buddy,” Ethan said, cutting him off.

Chris swooped in with a platter of cookies, giving one to his son and then offering them to Ethan and Jason.

“What a good little mother hen you are,” Ethan said, grinning as he slapped Chris’s back, grabbing two cookies.

“I do try.”

Ethan sank down onto the couch behind Laney, and she leaned her head back, offering her mouth up for a quick kiss. “A-plus work on the tent.”

“Thank you,” he said, though his eyes were on Stella as she brought her Frozen dolls into the fort. “Stell, make sure you share.”

Ethan had always said he wanted a little girl who looked exactly like Laney. What he got was a spitting image of himself with Laney’s big personality. Their son, on the other hand, took after Laney with his blue eyes and curly blond hair, though he was already into Goonies, much to Ethan’s satisfaction. Laney’s road to Ethan might have been winding, but their little family made the trip well worth it.

“I want to be Olaf,” Hazel screeched from inside the tent of blankets, and Jason shook his head in exasperation. Neither she nor Stella knew what inside voices were. Then again, Gem and Laney were their mothers, so…

“Well, well, well,” Chris said, drawing everyone’s attention to Sam and Mike, where they appeared at the top of the stairs.

Laney began a slow clap, yet no one else joined in the applause except for her ever-encouraging husband. As soon as the two lovebirds joined the group in the living room, grabbing a seat on the end of the couch, Jack sprinted over to throw himself at Mike, who lifted him up with one arm, using the toddler like a weight for biceps curls, which had him cackling in glee.

Attie reached up for a turn, but Chris grabbed his son. “Why don’t we give Uncle Mike a break? Two workouts in a row is rough.”

In return, Mike pretended like he was going to chuck Jack at Chris, prompting another round of giggling before setting him back on the floor with a low, “It’s true.”

That had all the adults laughing.

“Who’s up for the countdown?” Ethan asked the group of kids and then asked again, speeding through their names, because it always made them crack up. “Hey, Willow, Hazel, Stella, Lily, Jack, Attie, Jo! Do you want to watch the countdown?”

“Yeah, woo-hoo! Happy no year!”

Willow knocked Hazel over. “It’s New Year.”

“Willow Jane, hands to yourself, or I will cut them off,” Gem said, which only earned a laugh from Willow since the Mitchell children were long used to their mother’s teasing threats. When Hazel opened her mouth, most likely to say something sassy to her older sister, Gem held up her finger. “And don’t you start. Your tongue will be next.”

Jason threw his arm around his wife. “Harsh but effective.”

Gem gave him a look. “You too.” But then she burrowed down farther into his side and gestured for their daughters to join them, cuddling the trio of girls all together.

Laney smiled at them. “Who’d have guessed Gem would be married the longest and have the most kids out of all of us?”

“Makes sense to me,” Ethan said, grabbing his iPad from the coffee table, tapping the passcode on. He’d changed it from the first six digits of pi to their anniversary after they’d gotten married five years ago. “Like magnets, opposites attract.”

Gem and Jason turned to each other, sharing a smile before Ethan glanced over his shoulder at Laney. The same could be said about them, opposites and complementary. Meant to be. He must have been thinking the same thing because he winked at her, giving her thigh a squeeze, before he went back to the iPad.

“I think Gem was meant to be a mom,” Bronte said, situating Jo and Attie at her feet with a few toys. “Threats of bodily harm, notwithstanding.”

Gem pressed her hand to her heart. “Aww, that’s sweet, Bron. Thank you.”

Chris pushed up off the floor to snuggle in next to Bronte. “Yeah, I think life works out the way it’s supposed to. I mean…” He gestured his index finger to the guys. “Look at us. We never would have met if it weren’t for you four.” Jason, Chris, Mike, and Ethan had all become friends because their wives were.

Ethan set the iPad up on the table, and all the kids gathered in front of it, their attention zeroed on the screen, playing a cartoon specifically for kids to count down to New Year’s without having to stay up until midnight. He sat back down on the couch behind Laney but kept his hands on her shoulders, kissing the top of her head. “I always knew this one was it for me. Just took a roundabout way to get there.”

For a few minutes, the group was quiet as they watched all the kids piled together.

“You think they’ll always be friends?” Gem asked, not having to elaborate on who they were.

“I hope so,” Chris said. “We’re all family.”

“Family?” Laney repeated. “What if some of them want to pair off?”

“Pair off?” Jason’s normally smooth voice rose an octave.

“Or trio off, whatever. Love is love,” Laney amended, and Jason pressed his fingers to his chest as if he had heartburn.

“Please don’t. Will came home from school a few weeks ago, talking about her friend having a boyfriend. I’m not ready.”

“Okay,” Sam said with a laugh, “but your little bird is definitely going to be pairing off with Mr. Jack Marrero.”

“You think so?” Ethan turned to Sam in surprise. Jack was quiet and sensitive, a lot like Laney’s brother, Dean.

“Oh yeah, for sure.” Sam nodded, waving between Lily and Jack. “They’ve got a real enemies-to-lovers thing happening.”

“My favorite trope,” Gem said, grinning wickedly at Jason.

Laney twirled her fingers in the air. “Do we book the venue now or…”

“The Plaza in June,” Gem said and raised her hand for an air high five from Laney.

“This one will definitely grow up to be the troublemaker.” Bronte dragged Attie back from where he was attempting to pilfer another cookie. “He’ll be the one trying to break in to the liquor cabinet.”

Chris shrugged when all eyes set on him. “Everybody loves a bad boy.”

“We’ll take each of them for their first legal drink,” Sam said, motioning between herself and Mike. “And first tattoo.”

“Why don’t you start with taking our three for a week?” Jason said. “We could use some quiet.”

Gem nodded in agreement. “They would love playing with the cats.”

“We’ll take ’em. We’re not afraid of your gremlins,” Mike said, to which Sam sucked air through her teeth.

“Too late to back out now, Sammy. Your husband sealed your fate.” Gem banged an imaginary gavel. “Done.”

“Is it time for the champagne?” Laney asked but didn’t wait for an answer as she stood to take the bottle out of the refrigerator. “Babe, can you help me?”

Ethan popped up from the sofa and got the “adult sippy cups.”

They’d learned pretty quickly after their first year in the cabin that any drinks were free rein to be stolen or knocked over by tiny, grubby hands. So to avoid drunk toddlers and stains on the lush white rugs all over the house, Laney had purchased personalized Yetis with lids. The girls’ were labeled with their Golden Girls alter egos, while the guys all had different Marvel superheroes on theirs.

Ethan popped the cork and poured out the champagne while Laney passed out the cups. They still had a few hours to go to midnight, but the kids would never make it, and with the way Bronte was leaning into Chris, Laney doubted she would either.

Once all eight adults had their cups, they held them aloft.

“To us,” Gem started.

“To a bright new year,” Bronte said.

“To the best friends anyone could have,” Sam added, but before Laney could get out her usual final toast, her three best friends beat her to it.

“To life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”

Laney let out her booming laugh. “Now, drink up!”

After they all had a sip of the bubbly, Laney pulled her phone from her back pocket. “For posterity.”

Then she took yet another selfie, eight faces smooshed together in various states of talking, blinking, laughing, or—in Ethan’s case—kissing Laney’s cheek.

Another photo to hang on their wall at home.

Want to read the journeys of Gem, Bronte, Sam, and Laney from the beginning? Check out the Mister Series on Kindle Unlimited!

About the Author

Suzanne’s storied history in literature began when she was first published in the 5th Grade Poetry Anthology of 1997 with a poem titled Snowy Day in May. She continued her career with a much lauded Angelfire website featuring multiple novels of *NSYNC fanfiction. School, boys, and eventual full-time jobs got in the way here and there, but she kept on writing, including a screenplay which she directed to bring to the big screen in 2013. These days she writes stories about life, love, and bringing down the patriarchy in between wrangling a few beasts, some human, some not. And she’s funny, she swears it.

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THE SWITCH UP

SYLVIE STEWART

Me: He’s late.

Mindy: How do you know? You don’t even know what he looks like.

I GLANCE up from my phone, eyes skipping from patron to patron as I scan the bar. My sister is right; I have no idea what Aiden looks like. Which means it’s within the nightmarish realm of possibility that he’s the bearded man seated in the corner booth, head bent over his drink, most recent shower nothing but a distant memory.

Me: Please tell me he’s not the old man with lunch meat in his beard.

I know that he’s not; I’ve been much too careful. Still, a little reassurance might help calm my nerves.

Mindy: If he is, I’m coming to get you and taking over your dating profile.

Me: Never!

Mindy’s last interference with my love life resulted in a series of six first dates, all of which left me somewhere on a scale from bored to fearful for my life.

First, there was Marcus. He smelled fantastic but thought NATO was a brand of gluten-free snacks. Then came Kevin, a handsome ad executive who called me “wife material.” We didn’t even make it to the bottom of our coffee cups. Next was a biologist named Nathan with a forty-five-minute lecture on hidden microorganisms found on everyday objects—such as the dinner table between us. Then Bradley the lawyer followed by Vic the banker, both of whom made it clear from minute one that their only interests lay in taking me home to engage in questionably legal forms of sex.

That was when I gave up on Mindy’s advice and took matters into my own hands.

Which is how I ended up here, waiting to meet a man with whom I’ve shared numerous online conversations and developed a strong rapport—yet have not seen his face.

Looking around the dingy bar, it’s clear I should have been the one to choose our meeting spot. But I’m unfamiliar with this part of town, so I trusted Aiden’s judgement. Now I’m doubting my own.

Straightening my spine, I try to readjust my mindset. There is a good reason for Aiden’s tardiness, I’m certain, as we both subscribe to the philosophy that punctuality tells people you value their time. And I’m confident Aiden values mine, just as I do his.

Me: This place reeks of flannel and Old Spice. You’d love it.

Mindy: Ooh. Tell me more.

I’m about to ask my little sister how a thirty-seven-year-old still bases her dating choices on a man’s ability to shotgun a beer in under six seconds when a cool rush of air sweeps over the nape of my neck.

I swivel my stool to find a figure in the open doorway. The man’s chestnut hair spikes in disarray from the late February breeze, lending him a disheveled air that borders on endearing. As the door closes behind him, he absently runs a hand through his thick locks while his eyes scan the bar area. Unbidden adrenaline spikes in my chest when his eyes stop on me and one corner of his mouth turns up.

It’s Aiden. He’s here.

Determined to tamp down any teenage butterflies, I send Aiden a polite smile and a welcoming nod. He’s more attractive than I anticipated, with a square jaw covered in a short, neatly trimmed beard and a set of broad shoulders and lean hips that tell me he does more than the simple daily run he disclosed.

Despite my wishes, the butterflies persist.

Nerves are inevitable; allowing them to take control is not.

It’s been six months since my last date, so an ounce of trepidation is to be expected. But I know this man already; we’ve established a level of comfort with one another over the last six weeks. Even if it’s only been through online messaging.

Aiden approaches and takes a seat on the high-backed stool next to mine, eyes never straying from my face. “Hello, Daphne.” His voice has a rough quality that surprises me. I’d honestly envisioned him to be… well… less sexy than this.

“Hello,” I return, extending my hand. “It’s lovely finally meeting you in person.” His handshake is warm and firm, and the brush of his callused fingertips on the back of my hand sends a shiver up my arm and zipping down my spine. I’m not sure how to feel about this.

“Likewise.” His lopsided smile is unnervingly charming. “What are you drinking?” he asks as the bartender makes her way to our end of the bar.

Her smile turns flirtatious when she catches sight of my date. “What can I get you?” She spares me only the briefest of glances.

“Do you have a wine list?” I’d honestly been too restless to even consider beverage choices before now.

“Sure.” Slapping a laminated sheet on the bar in front of me, she refocuses her attention on Aiden as she cocks a bare shoulder his way. “What about you?”

Good god, the man must be twenty years older than she is. Although, with the benefit of a closer vantage point, I notice a distinct lack of wrinkles—or streaks of silver in Aiden’s chestnut mane. Clearly, he comes from a goldmine of a gene pool because, while I don’t know his exact age, it lies somewhere between 40 and 50. Just as I stipulated on my dating profile.

“I’ll have a beer,” Aiden answers the girl. “Surprise me.”

My brows snap together at his choice. Just last week, we engaged in a long discussion about Australian wines and our shared preference for South Australian Shiraz. He never indicated an interest in beer.

Perhaps he’s feeling adventurous—or he’s simply multi-faceted. All the better. I’m nothing if not flexible. Well, I’m sure I can be.

Aiden removes his coat, revealing a slim-fitting pullover that molds to his chest as he hangs his coat on the back of his stool. I try not to stare, but it’s not an easy ask.

“You ready?” The bartender’s voice jolts me to attention, and I quickly skim the list.

“I’ll have the Penley Estate Cabernet.” Not my favorite, but it will do. Aiden nods and returns my smile, letting me know he remembers our wine discussion.

“We’re out of that one.” The girl shrugs a pale shoulder and I have the urge to lean over the bar and straighten her top to avoid an unfortunate nip-slip. “Supply chain and all.”

“Oh.” My eyes drop to the list again, and I select a Shiraz I hadn’t noticed the first time.

She’s shaking her head before my words are out, her impatience visibly simmering just under a polite smile. I’m tempted to remind her that this is her job, but it would get me nowhere.

“Layla, is it?” Aiden cuts in with a quick glance at her nametag. “Maybe it would be easier to tell us which wines you do have. Then we can get out of your hair.” The smile he sends her is warmer than I’d like, but I must admit it’s effective. I imagine it’s effective in all manner of situations.

Layla lists a few local wines as well as some I’ve never heard of, and I make a quick selection so she’ll leave us. But when Aiden leans toward me, his bicep testing the confines of his pullover as he props his chin on his fist, I almost want to beckon her over again.

His attractiveness is decidedly inconvenient. The entire point of getting to know someone based on shared interests and values is to avoid clouded judgement caused by pesky hormones.

Not that I don’t crave a healthy intimate relationship with a future partner, but animal attraction is a mortally flawed foundation. I’m no longer that fresh-faced twenty-four-year-old who thought lust and determination alone could sustain a doomed marriage.

“So,” we both begin at the same time before sharing a small laugh. His is lighthearted and warm while all I hear is nervousness in my own. Aiden gestures for me to go first, and I push my anxiety aside, grasping at the first notion that floats to the surface of my mind.

“My sister warned me you might be a teenage boy masquerading as a real estate executive. I’m relieved I won’t be spending the night in jail.”

Amusement lights his eyes, and he pauses before tipping his chin. “Your virtue is safe with me, I promise.”

“Why, thank you.” Not anxious to discuss my virtue any further, I lean back, allowing myself a much-needed break from Aiden’s nearness. “Did you play hooky from work today?” I ask, gesturing to his relaxed attire. He’s shared his tendency for long hours at his real estate investment firm as well as an affinity for expensive suits. The idea that he might have skipped work in anticipation of meeting me sends another delicious yet unwelcome quiver through my belly.

“I wrapped up early,” Aiden answers as Layla sets an open bottle of beer in front of him. He gestures to me, making it impossible for the girl to ignore me or my lack of beverage.

“I’m letting your wine breathe,” she deadpans before retreating.

I bite back an equally snarky response. This night is not about a flirty young bartender or my wine, and I’m not letting anything distract me from determining if Aiden and I have a connection worth broader exploration.

Pushing his untouched beer aside, he asks, “Do you always dress like this?” His eyes drop down my body, sending my heart rate into hummingbird mode.

“Like this?” I gesture to my slim pencil skirt and boatneck cashmere sweater, my brows knitting. It’s unclear if he’s being critical or simply making conversation, but either way it’s peculiar.

He must read my mind because he throws a palm up between us. “I’m not criticizing, I promise—the opposite, actually. You’re stunning.” He drops that like a bomb, sending shock waves pulsing through my womb. It occurs to me that he was, of course, equally in the dark when it came to my appearance, and I’m more pleased than I’d like to admit that he finds me attractive.

“Thank you.” I fold my hands in front of me on the burnished wood of the bar. How is this man still single at forty-something?

Aiden glances around the dimly lit bar for the first time since I caught his eye in the doorway. “It’s just that—if you don’t mind me saying—you don’t exactly fit in with the rest of the clientele at this place.”

I retrace the path his eyes just traveled, noting that the man in the corner is now asleep in a puddle of beer and there’s a new couple quite possibly engaging in a sex act at the next table over. My gaze returns to Aiden. “I don’t mind at all.”

His lips quirk, amusement sparking in his eyes again.

“But I’ll remind you, I didn’t choose the locale. Nor did I receive the dress code.” I lean his way, emboldened by his clear enjoyment. “Had I been notified, I’d have gone shopping for a camouflage tube top and some shower sandals.”

His smile broadens, revealing a row of straight white teeth and a set of matching laugh lines carved around his eyes. “I’d like to see that.”

This prompts a mental image of stripping my clothes off in front of Aiden, and I feel the heat rise to my cheeks. This is not me. I don’t have sexy daydreams or engage in flirty chitchat with muscular men who laugh too easily. I value pragmatism and good manners; eight grain toast and a strong cup of coffee with my morning Financial Times; a quiet debate on healthcare or minimum wage shared over dinner at an upscale bistro. These are well within my comfort zone, and I’m beginning to wonder if Aiden is not.

The bartender offers a distraction when she arrives with my wine, giving my cheeks a moment to cool. I leave the glass where it sits on a cardboard coaster.

“If you don’t mind me saying, you’re different than I expected.” Depending on how Aiden chooses to take that, he might be insulted, but I feel the need to put it out there. He must know he presents much differently in person.

Entirely unfazed, he nods. “That’s understandable. But just because someone surprises you, doesn’t make it a bad thing.”

I watch him for a moment, gauging his sincerity and finding it genuine. “I suppose you’re right. And to be clear, I’m not disappointed; I suppose I was just expecting someone less… laid back.” And not nearly as sexy, I tack on silently.

There. That should suffice.

Despite his youthful good looks and casual air, he’s still the same person I’ve come to know—the one who supports his elderly parents, has season tickets to the Charlotte Symphony Orchestra, paid off his house with a fifteen-year mortgage instead of a wasteful thirty, does a foliage tour of New England every fall. And, most importantly, understands the type of practical compatibility that’s fundamental to any successful relationship.

“What can I say? I enjoy life.” He shrugs a shoulder. “I guess you could say I’m a believer in seizing opportunities as they come and not worrying so much about the possible fallout.”

An alarm bell rings in the back of my mind, but I’m distracted by Aiden’s grin as he inches closer. It’s almost naughty, causing all the moisture in my mouth to evaporate.

“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” he murmurs just loud enough to be heard over the tinny classic rock song from the bar’s sound system.

The level of his flirting game is surprising, which is ridiculous now that I think about it. We’re both clearly looking for a relationship, and chemistry is bound to be a part of that.

“Well, let’s see.” To my relief, my voice remains steady. “I don’t think I’ve mentioned my newest client. The sales and marketing team is a mess—they have no system for organizing their data—it’s little wonder they needed my help.”

“No.” Aiden dips his chin, fiery hazel eyes locked to mine as if we’re conducting this conversation from opposite ends of a bubble bath. My thighs clench. “Not your resume. Something else.”

“L-like what?” That voice and those eyes have me squirming in my chair.

In the last weeks, he and I have discussed everything from religion and world politics to careers, real estate, money management—even recycling and pets. I’m at a loss comprehending his request.

His eyes continue their search for what might be my soul. “What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?”

All I can do is blink at him as my mind goes blank. “Crazy is really not in my wheelhouse. I’m an operations analyst for a reason.”

Stroking his beard, Aiden considers me—as if the rhythmic movement of his fingertips allows him better access to my mind. Sweet lord, his hands are enormous.

“Come on.” He leans in so close I think for a fraction of a second that he’s about to kiss me. Relief and some other unidentifiable emotion flood me when he continues speaking instead. “Everybody’s done something that gives them a little adrenaline punch when they think back on it.”

Is he trying to unnerve me? Because if he is, it’s working. But I refuse to be rattled.

“If it’s so easy, what’s yours?” I challenge him. Given his very healthy fear of heights and dedication to his career, I doubt Aiden the real estate executive spends his free time base jumping.

His eyes narrow in thought, and I wonder for a moment if he’s going to invent something to impress me. I truly hope he doesn’t. He must recognize by now how much I value his steadfastness and appreciate honesty.

But he doesn’t answer, instead adjusting in his seat and raising his beer toward me. I do the same with my wine glass.

“To… taking a chance,” he says, tipping his beer bottle so it taps the rim of my glass. A drop of condensation from the bottle slips into my glass and runs down the inside. And now I’m turned on. I need to revive my composure and grip it with both hands.

“To our first date,” I venture, choosing to be optimistic.

Our eyes lock again as we each take our first sip, and I can’t help but feel like the antelope to his ravenous lion. How does he make consuming a beverage so sexual?

It takes a moment for the flavor of the wine to register on my taste buds, and I realize my distraction kept me from my usual routine of smelling the wine and taking an initial tasting sip. With no spit bucket nearby, this leaves me with a burning nose, a mouthful of dreadfulness, and a serious quandary: do I spit the vinegar-tinged liquid back into my glass like a preschooler or open myself up to the even worse eventuality of vomiting on my date after choking down the spoiled wine?

The first is the obvious choice, but there’s no chance for discretion as Aiden watches me with hot eyes from behind his beer bottle. While my own eyes water from the sharpness, the wine makes a sound between a glug and a splash as I eject it into the glass, hoping he somehow doesn’t notice.

This isn’t the case. Aiden barks out a deep laugh. “Did you just spit your drink out?”

Setting down my glass, I reach over to the stack of napkins in a tray to my other side. “Pardon?” As I feign innocence, embarrassment swarms my chest like bees in a hive.

Instead of letting it go, Aiden laughs freely—louder this time—igniting a fire under the hive that sends the bees in a panicked swirl. I don’t like feeling out of control. I don’t like being laughed at. And I don’t like that I can feel his laugh in my clitoris.

“Excuse me.” Scooping up my phone, I stand, intent on finding a restroom—and possibly the front door.

His hand snakes out to grab my arm, halting me. “Hang on, killer. I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m actually kind of charmed.”

I chance another glance at Aiden, noting what wonderful things amusement does to his face. Maybe he wasn’t really laughing at me; maybe I’m too much in my head.

My phone dings with a notification. It’s as if Mindy and I share a telepathic connection—if I believed in such things. But when I look down at my phone, it’s not Mindy’s name that appears. It’s Aiden’s.

Aiden via DatingSmart.com: My apologies, Daphne. I trust Wyatt found you and explained my situation?

My eyes make a slow journey from the phone to the muscled arms of the man holding onto me before moving on to his strong shoulders and over that square bearded chin, finally reaching the crooked half smile resting on his lips.

“Do you mind removing your hand?” My jaw sets, the words forced through clenched teeth. He immediately obliges, his grin dropping at my next request. “Now do you mind telling me who in the hell you are and why you hijacked my date?”

“DO you want the good news first or the bad news?” he asks, his mouth twisting to the side, shoulders relaxing again.

How can he be so cavalier? Imagine if I’d gone somewhere alone with this strange man! They say the survival rate plummets if a kidnapper gets you to a second location, and I’ve really never seen myself as a second-location kind of girl.

“I could not possibly care less.” I’ll need a trip to my dentist to repair my molars if this lasts much longer.

“Okay, then. Good news first.” He puts one of his giant paws to his chest. “I’m not a random stranger. My name is Wyatt Adler, and I’m Aiden’s brother.”

My anger engine loses a fraction of steam at that. This is Aiden’s brother?

Head tipped back, I close my eyes and take a moment to think. This explains the inconsistencies—it does not, however, explain why he didn’t just introduce himself in the first place—or why he flirted so openly. Perhaps that will come with the bad news.

“And the bad news?” I ask, lowering to look at Aid—Wyatt—again. His expression is contrite, as well it should be.

“So, uh,” he begins with a scratch of his beard. “Aiden can’t make it—which is what I assume you just discovered on your phone.” He has the nerve to hit me with a self-deprecating smile. “I happened to be at his building when someone pulled him into an emergency meeting. And since he didn’t have his phone, he asked me to stop by here on my way home and apologize for him.”

“Oh.” I let that sink in before continuing, “That’s understandable.”

Work often gets in the way of my personal life as well—just last week I had to cancel dinner with Mindy and my niece, Brooke, to play counselor to one of my biggest clients. All things considered, it was sweet of Aiden to send his brother to apologize; he couldn’t have known Wyatt would take the opportunity to play mind games with me. Wyatt obviously has issues he needs to work out, but I’ll leave that between him and the next stranger he chooses to accost with his sex eyes.

“I think we can just leave this evening where it is. I’ll reschedule with Aiden for another night.” I move to retrieve my coat from the back of my stool.

“That’s not all.” Wyatt’s hard tone stops me, but my eyes stay on the caramel wool of my coat. Doesn’t he realize I’m trying to be civil and extract myself from this evening with both of our dignities intact?

“Daphne, my brother will not make time for you.”

I fight an eyeroll and pull the coat from its perch.

“His job is always, always, number one.”

When I continue to ignore him, Wyatt slides off his stool and steps in front of me, blocking my way to the door. “Why do you think a rich, good-looking, successful professional in his mid-forties has never been married or had a long-term relationship?” He brings a hand level to his forehead, and my eyes automatically follow the movement. While I doubt he intends to hit me, I can’t be too careful at this point.

“Aiden’s priorities are his job—” He lowers his hand a notch. “Showing off his money—” Another notch. “Kissing ass.” His hand drops as far as it can go without requiring him to bend. “And then waaay down here is family. No friends in any real sense, and no girlfriends.”

A tickle at the back of my neck has me adjusting my spine, and I fight to regulate my tone.

“Look, I don’t know what kind of relationship you two have, and frankly it’s none of my business. But I already know he paid off your parents’ mortgage and he supports them. That sounds like prioritizing family in my book.” I step around him. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Striding toward the door, I pull on my coat, anxious to end this evening. Wyatt can pay for my shitty wine.

“Is that what he told you?” He raises his voice to be heard as I step away. “Did he also tell you he hasn’t visited them in over a year?”

I turn to respond—to tell him he needs to quiet down or let his brother live his own life or maybe to explain that working professionals don’t always have time to fly halfway across the country to visit family.

Before I can say any of that, he reads my mind and continues, “They live twenty minutes away.”

I’m left with a lungful of air and no words at hand. Could that possibly be true?

No. I shake my head when I remember who I’m talking to, stepping closer again for a modicum of privacy.

“Why should I trust anything you say? You’ve lied to me for the entirety of our acquaintance—which, might I add—spans a whole thirty minutes.” I’m so close now, I can feel the warmth from his body seeping through my coat.

“No, I haven’t. Not exactly.”

I skewer him with my worst glare. “You pretended to be someone you’re not.”

“You assumed, and I didn’t correct you.” The man dares to shrug.

“Don’t be an ass. You knew exactly what you were doing.” My finger takes on a life of its own and digs into the hollow at his sternum.

“Okay, you’re right. But it’s for your own good.”

“Oh, so you’re psychic, are you? How in the world could you possibly know what I need?”

Wyatt’s Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows hard, his jaw going tense. The butterflies are back, and I curse them to insect hell for betraying me at a time like this.

His voice is low and deliberate. “You’re not the first person he’s done this with. He wants a cardboard cutout to stand next to him at galas and business dinners—one who can form complete sentences, talk to his colleagues about culture and current events, and let him be the star of his own show.”

I do my best to match his tone, unwilling to let him think he has the slightest effect on me. “How awful to be with someone who enjoys stimulating conversations and upscale events.”

He rakes stiff fingers through his hair and lets his eyes dart around the bar before returning them to me and leaning in. “You’re not a cardboard cutout, Daphne. You’re vibrant and strong and confident. You lead with integrity and a spark of wit that told me within the first thirty seconds that you don’t play second fiddle to anyone—and you shouldn’t have to.”

His pulse thrums visibly in his neck as his words hang in the air between us, filling me with adrenaline and indignation in equal measures. I draw in a breath and take a single step back. “If you claim to know me so well, you’ll know I’m fully equipped to take care of myself. And I’m sensible enough to navigate a potential relationship without the help of a… what is it you do anyway?” I don’t know why it matters. Maybe I want to even the score since he believes I’m such an open book.

“I work in water rescue and training.”

There’s no stopping my hysterical bark of laughter. “Of course you do.” I shake my head to clear it once and for all. Aiden and Wyatt are polar opposites, that much is crystal clear. And if I’m the one choosing who to believe—which I am—I’ll go with the well-mannered, rational professional instead of the interfering adrenaline junkie.

I stalk to the door. “Goodnight, Wyatt.” There’s no pausing or looking back this time, not even when I hear his peculiar parting words.

“Why do you think he chose this bar, Daphne?”

“HE SAID THAT?” Mindy draws both legs under her and snatches up one of my throw pillows. Her expression is much more titillated than I’d prefer.

We’re debriefing the next evening in my living room while Brooke busies herself dressing my long-suffering cat in doll clothes. I just made the mistake of sharing the part where Wyatt called me vibrant and strong, compliments I’m trying to forget.

Sinking down onto the cushion next to my sister, I wrinkle my nose. “You’re missing the point entirely. What kind of maniac has the nerve to go around making arbitrary decisions for total strangers?”

“Sounds like maybe you and the maniac aren’t strangers anymore.” She wags her brows at me before resting her can of soda on my coffee table.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Just that for a guy who ‘doesn’t know the first thing about you,’ he sure did make some excellent guesses.” She mocks me with air quotes while I frown at her.

“You seem to be under the impression that I’m making some sort of choice between these two men. That’s not the case. Wyatt is a liar with some serious boundary issues and zero shared interests. Aiden is my perfect match—or he could be. He already explained what kept him last night, and nothing has changed.”

Mindy throws a palm up. “Okay, okay. So make another date with Aiden and see if he shows up this time.”

Nodding, I grab my phone from the table, intent on doing just that. “This time, I’m choosing the place. I may need a tetanus shot after last night.”

Mindy tosses her pillow at me, knocking my reading glasses askew. “You’re such a snob. I’ve been to the Cornerstone Tavern, and it’s not even remotely as bad as you’re making it out to be.”

I nearly tear a ligament in my neck flashing her a defiant glare. “A woman performed a tonsillectomy on her date using only her tongue while another patron passed a jar collecting donations for his upcoming paternity test.”

She ignores me. “They have a wine list, Daph. It’s an unwritten rule that dive bars don’t have wine lists. And, besides, it sounds like someone wanted to check your tonsils out with his tongue.”

“Charming.” I return my attention to my phone.

“If it was as bad as you say, and Aiden is really as proper as you claim, why would he ask to meet you there, anyway?”

I lower the phone to my knee. “You know, Wyatt mentioned the same thing when I was leaving. He said, ‘Why do you think Aiden chose this bar?’ or something similar. I haven’t the slightest idea what he meant.”

This piques Mindy’s curiosity even more than my previous share. “Interesting…”

“Quite the opposite, I’m guessing. He probably just chose a place at random. There’s no possibility he’s ever set foot in that place, believe me.”

“Then why the dramatic parting line from the handsome brother?” Her tone is annoyingly smug.

“I didn’t say he was handsome.”

“You didn’t have to. You blush and touch your neck every time you say his name.”

“I do no such thing.” I glance down to see one hand paused at the neckline of my blouse. Dammit.

Mindy retrieves her drink, letting me off the hook. “Go schedule your date. The sooner you meet Aiden in person, the sooner we can see if he’s good enough for my catch of a sister.”

Sometimes I forget just how nurturing and kind-hearted Mindy can be.

“Brookie!” Her shout startles me. “Otis does not want to look like a hooker! Are those pasties?!”

Then again…

AIDEN ADLER—PROFESSIONALLY known as Vincent A. Adler—is intelligent, articulate, thoughtful, and handsome. Everything I wished and thought he’d be. With a thick head of dark hair painted silver at the temples and a lean body encased in a bespoke suit, he looks every bit a real estate executive.

As anticipated, he was punctual—early even—so that when I arrived at Zambra twenty minutes ago, he was waiting, ready to take my coat and pull out my chair. The perfect gentleman, unlike someone else I can think of.

“So I told him what he could do with his offer and walked away.” Aiden lifts his wine glass with an elegant hand, regaling me with the story of a deal he just brokered. “Guess who called me an hour later with his tail between his legs?” His smile is devilishly handsome.

Conversation has been flowing easily, our existing online relationship allowing for an immediate degree of familiarity as we sip our wine—a beautiful South Australian red blend—and get to know one another better.

Classical Spanish guitar music and the quiet hum of surrounding conversation play backdrop as Aiden finishes his story and then tells me about an art piece he’s recently acquired. Our discussion moves on to a podcast we both follow before Aiden shares his company’s latest struggle with some new local regulations. We even engage in a spirited yet respectful debate over local politics.

Zambra is a lively Mediterranean bistro and a local favorite here in Asheville. When I initially suggested it for our make-up drinks, Aiden was oddly reluctant but changed his mind a few hours later. He must have been distracted by work the first time around. It’s clear now that he enjoys the atmosphere, as well as the company, if it’s not too bold of me to say.

His answers to my questions feel measured at times, but I chalk it up to first-date nerves. I also can’t say he’s been overly warm or funny, but those qualities could come to the surface as our relationship develops. Not that they’re vital, nor were they on my relationship checklist when we were matched online. There are more important traits—like loyalty, honesty, respect, and a strong moral compass.

All things considered, my dating project appears to be a resounding success, proving that cultivating a relationship outside of the physical is absolutely the best place to begin if one is serious about finding a lasting match. When Aiden excuses himself to the restroom, I’m tempted to call Mindy to gloat, but I manage to refrain.

Everything is going to plan.

Until it isn’t.

The first hiccup occurs when I notice Aiden repeatedly glancing down at his lap while I share a story about Mindy and Brooke. I assume he’s spilled something on his pants but dismiss that notion when both of his hands disappear under the table. If he were Wyatt, I might assume he’s playing with himself like a common Neanderthal. But he’s not Wyatt, that’s for certain.

I fall silent, expecting Aiden to refocus and offer an explanation, but it persists for a good thirty seconds before his eyes shoot up and he delivers a chagrined expression.

“My apologies, Daphne.” He pulls his phone from his lap and lays it on the table beside his wine glass. “Work,” is his only justification.

As a professional, I understand these things happen from time to time. And although I’m a bit taken aback by the uncharacteristic lapse in manners, I choose to set it aside.

Until it happens again less than five minutes later. This time he doesn’t even try to hide it, texting away while I sip my wine and people watch. But this crowd is remarkably civilized and doesn’t offer nearly as much interest for the eye as the last place. I don’t even realize I’ve chuckled out loud until Aiden frowns at me and sets his phone down again.

“Something funny?” He glances around, and I’m unsure if he’s searching for the source of my amusement or checking to see if I’m drawing unwanted attention.

“No, it’s nothing,” I assure him as I bring my wine glass to my lips. It makes no sense, after all, that I’d reflect on the other evening with any trace of enjoyment. Still, I can’t help but draw a comparison—or notice that those butterflies from my encounter with Wyatt are safe in their cocoons tonight.

We chat some more, though it’s becoming clear that Aiden’s attention is well and truly split between me and his phone. When the waitress comes to ask if we’d like another glass of wine, he answers for both of us and delivers our order with a wink at the woman. He also calls her “sweetheart.”

“They like it when you flirt with them a little,” he informs me after she leaves.

“Almost as much as they like being told to smile more.” I can’t help myself.

My sarcasm flies completely over his head, likely because he’s back on his phone.

I don’t understand what’s happening. Aiden and I are perfect for each other on paper. We’re both sensible and analytical; we don’t get carried away with our emotions; we follow world politics and share an appreciation for classical music; we agree on numerous social issues; we enjoy travel and fine dining; we’re even from the same religious background, though neither of us practices much anymore.

But now that I sit across from him, I don’t think I like Aiden very much.

Part of me wants to walk away and pretend this never happened—the part that’s replaying Wyatt’s comments about his brother’s prioritization of work above all else. But I’ve invested my time and energy into developing a potential relationship with this man. Perhaps there truly is an emergency at work requiring his attention, and he’s reluctant to ditch me for a second time.

I decide to give it one last attempt.

The waitress delivers our wine and doesn’t linger. Pushing mine aside, I lean forward. “Tell me about your parents.”

“What?” Aiden glances up from his phone, doing a double take when he notices I’ve moved closer. “Oh, they live in a little bungalow on the other side of French Broad. A modest place, but they claim to prefer it. We don’t talk much.”

“I’m sorry. That must be hard.” I can’t imagine a world where Mindy and I didn’t speak daily—or where we missed out on our parents’ constant updates from their retirement paradise in Florida.

“Not really.” Aiden’s attention has returned to his phone before I can even lean back in my chair to process his words. “We don’t have anything in common. Wyatt keeps me in the loop when they need money.” He glances up for a brief second, a derisive grin on his lips. “My family and I don’t exactly operate in the same social circles, if you know what I mean.”

A sympathetic response to his comment does not exist—at least not in my world.

I have made a horrible mistake. This isn’t the same person I’ve been chatting with for the past six weeks. I mentally scan through the archives of our messages, looking for evidence of this man sitting across from me. The more distracted he’s become over the evening, the less he’s presented himself as the Aiden I thought I knew.

Did he spend the last six weeks playing some carefully contrived character while I was giving him my true self? The notion sets my ears on fire.

Aiden settles his phone on the table and lifts his fresh glass of wine as if to toast me. His smile is handsome and appears to come easily, but I can’t help noticing it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Well, I think this has been a real success, Daphne. In fact, I’d love for you to accompany me to a fundraising gala next Friday.”

“Oh,” is my only response, my mind still reeling.

Aiden takes that as acceptance of his invitation. “It should be quite the society event—very formal. Now that we’ve met in person, we can finally exchange phone numbers. My secretary will forward you all the details and have a car pick you up.” He takes a sip of wine and slides his phone across the table, inviting me to type in my number.

His secretary? A car? A real success?

I don’t think so.

Careful not to touch his phone, I lean in again. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course. I’m an open book.” He’s completely oblivious.

I set my glass down and pause for a moment before making my final decision. “Why did you choose the Cornerstone Tavern to meet me the other night?”

The tic in his jaw is almost imperceptible. “I don’t know. I didn’t give it much thought.” His answer feels forced—this is a man who gives every decision careful consideration. He probably measures out his toothpaste before applying it to his brush.

“Have you been there before?”

The tic is more pronounced. “Why? Did someone… say something?”

Now, that’s an odd response.

“Someone as in your brother?” I tilt my head, almost starting to enjoy this.

“No. It doesn’t matter.” He dabs the corner of his mouth with a cloth napkin and revives his smile. “This place is delightful, don’t you think?” He turns, inviting me to inspect our surroundings with him, as if I wasn’t the one to choose the restaurant.

“It’s lovely,” I agree. “In fact, I’m surprised this wasn’t your first choice.” I couldn’t imagine a more perfect little spot for the Aiden he’s claimed to be these past weeks.

“Well, you know. It’s not wise to advertise one’s personal business until one is more… confident, shall we say.”

Comprehension blooms like one of those time-lapse clips of a flower exploding into color. “You mean until your brother confirmed I hadn’t just emerged from under a bridge where I reside with the other trolls. What else did Wyatt tell you?” My tone has a distinct edge now.

Aiden tries to wave me off. “Oh, Wyatt. He fancies himself an idealist when it suits him. You can’t pay attention to him—he’s thirty-two, for heaven’s sake.”

I let that little piece of information settle. “I see.” Oh, I believe I finally do. “So, Aiden, exactly what are you looking for in a relationship?”

His posture relaxes. “The same as you, from what I’ve gathered. Like-mindedness. Some companionship. A person to accompany me to social events and business functions. Someone with a busy life of their own who’s not reliant on me. I can also say it doesn’t hurt that you’ll be able to charm my colleagues and society friends.” He chuckles as if indicating I should find that notion appealing.

I do not. He’s not looking for a girlfriend or a partner; he’s looking for a cardboard cut-out to prop beside him when it suits him.

Just like Wyatt said.

I swipe my napkin from my lap and drop it on the table. “I think we’re done here. It turns out we’re not looking for the same things, Aiden.” I slide my chair back and stand while he watches me slack jawed from his seat. “And, by the way, it’s appalling manners to text while your date sits across from you—it’s true at a fancy place like this or a hole in the wall like the Cornerstone. You may want to consider if you’re really the gentleman you tell yourself you are.”

I stride past him, making my second dramatic exit of the week. Am I turning into a diva or is my judgement just that awful?

****

Smoothing down my skirt with nervous hands, I take a deep breath and repeat the mantra I’ve been reciting my entire drive to the fire station.

“Just a quick apology, and then you can leave.”

It wasn’t difficult to find out where Wyatt Adler works; there aren’t too many water rescue units in a town this size. And while half of me hopes he’s not here today, the other half knows he did me a favor the other night—a sloppy and unconventional one, but a favor nonetheless—and I want to acknowledge that.

“Daphne?” A familiar voice surprises me from behind, and I spin on the heel of my boot.

“Wyatt!” I shield my eyes from the glinting winter sun. “You startled me.”

He stands several feet away, hands propped on his lean hips and a long-sleeved gray thermal hugging his chest like he was born wearing it. How did I ever mistake him for Aiden?

When he notices my half-blinded state, Wyatt steps closer, allowing me to change my angle. The breeze ruffles his hair, specks of bronze picking up the sunlight while he offers me one of his lopsided smiles. My knees give the slightest wobble. “I thought that was you. What are you doing here?” He gestures to the tall red garage doors of the firehouse.

“Looking for you, in fact.” I decide to be upfront. The sooner we chat, the sooner I can leave and get on with my life.

When I relayed the events of my disappointing evening with Aiden to Mindy, she immediately penned her first of many letters to the Wyatt Adler Fan Club. She even tried convincing me to ask him out. But that’s ridiculous. Besides being eight years younger than I am, he’s not my type. At all.

When I told her as much, she quickly reminded me that dating losers in their forties who purported to be my type was exactly what brought me to this low point in my love life. I chose to ignore her.

Wyatt’s smile broadens. “You don’t say.” He’s being cheeky—and it looks better on him than I want to admit. Best to get a move on.

“I just wanted to stop by and thank you for warning me the other night. While I certainly didn’t appreciate it at the time—and probably said some not-so-kind things—you really did do me a favor. I won’t be seeing Aiden anymore.” There.

His expression sobers. “I’m sorry, Daphne. But I’m glad you got out before you were too invested.”

“Me too.” I nod.

I’ve said everything I came to say, so it’s time to go. But Wyatt catches me off guard with a conspiratorial grin, and I find myself taking a step closer.

“You know, you should never trust a guy who thinks funny cat videos are a waste of time,” he confides.

A laugh bubbles up my throat. “Way to bury the headline, Adler. Had you led with that the other night I would have cut off communications right then and there.”

His responding laugh breaks open every last cocoon in my body, sending butterflies swarming everywhere at once. Dear god, this man is sexy—and sweet, and empathetic, and handsome, and quite possibly a truly decent human being.

We stand there smiling at each other, a hum of contentment settling in my chest.

“Why didn’t you just tell me who you were the other night?” The words are out before I can weigh the consequences.

Wyatt’s eyes go soft, and he takes another step toward me. “I meant to. I was going to.”

“But…” I prompt him, holding my breath.

He keeps my eyes, making it impossible for me to look away. “But you would have turned your attention back to my brother, and he doesn’t deserve it.”

It makes no sense to me how spending a few minutes with a stranger was worth the trouble—especially when he knew it was only a matter of moments before his ruse would come out in the open. What did he hope to accomplish?

But I’m lying to myself by pretending I don’t know. I’m ignoring the immediate connection I felt when Wyatt sat on that stool next to me—a connection I’m certain now went both ways. One that’s pulling me to him even as we stand across from one another on this concrete driveway.

Wyatt is not my type; that’s a fact. But the type I’ve been choosing never made me feel this alive in my skin or brave enough to take a risk on the off chance that it could bring me something I never knew I wanted.

Wyatt is right; Aiden didn’t deserve my attention. But I think I know who does—and I’m hoping I might get his in return.

I try to swallow but my throat is too dry. “And you do?”

Eyes crinkling at the corners, he gives me a smile that warms me to my toes. “I definitely wouldn’t turn down the chance to try to deserve it.”

My heart does its best imitation of a drum, kicking my mood up to almost giddy. It feels… fantastic. “You still want to know the craziest thing I’ve ever done?” I poke him playfully in the chest and he closes his fingers around mine.

“Lay it on me, killer.”

“I agreed to go on a date with the brother of the guy I just dumped.”

Wyatt draws me closer, an eyebrow spiking. “Well, you haven’t technically agreed yet. How about tonight?”

I grin up at him, throwing caution to the wind—it hasn’t been working for me lately anyway. “Perfect. I’ll even let you pick the place.”

His responding grin is devastating. “Careful what you wish for, Daphne.” He holds my eyes, his own sparkling at me.

I close the distance between us and rise to my tiptoes. “I’m through being careful, Wyatt.”

Then I prove it by placing my lips on his and kissing him stupid.

The End

About the Author

USA Today bestselling author Sylvie Stewart loves bad jokes, dirty rom-coms, country music, and baby skunks—preferably all at the same time. Most of her steamy romantic comedies take place across her favorite state of North Carolina, and her characters never run out of snarky banter or snacks. When her laptop closes, Sylvie is a sucker for hugs from her twin boys and a good laugh with her hot-nerd hubby. If you love smart Southern gals, hot blue-collar guys, and snort-laughing with characters who feel like your best friends, Sylvie’s your gal.

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HIDDEN GEM

T.K. LEIGH

CHAPTER ONE

“WAIT. Wait. Wait. Are you telling me you and Jayce are over? Not just on-a-break over, but over over?”

“It appears so.” I force a smile, not wanting to admit I’m still holding out hope it’s the former.

Jayce and I have gone through this before. Gotten into an argument about something inconsequential, thanks to both of our stubborn personalities. After a few days, we always come to our senses and agree to do better.

But this time feels different. This isn’t just a minor disagreement we blew out of proportion. In retrospect, this has been brewing for a while now. I just didn’t want to admit it. Wanted to believe in the romantic notion of opposites attract. It worked for Belle and her Beast.

Why couldn’t it work for us, too?

“Well, halle-fucking-lujah!”

Her response taking me by surprise, I slow my steps as I navigate the busy terminal of San Francisco airport.

“What makes you say that?”

“Oh, come on, Eloise!” she barks into my ear through my cell. “You know how we all feel about Jayce.”

“I know how Easton and Hunter feel about Jayce because they’re that way around every guy I’ve dated.” I roll my eyes, feigning annoyance.

After all, Easton and Hunter are like brothers to Amelia and me. Our mothers have been friends since their twenties when they were all single women attempting to find love in the jungles of Manhattan.

Now we’re in their shoes.

Except I thought I found love.

“You said you liked him,” I argue.

“I do like him. He’s a great guy. But not for you. You host a travel vlog and Jayce is scared to fly, for crying out loud. Hell, he hates even the idea of leaving Manhattan, unless it’s to come to one of my dad’s parties in the Hamptons.”

“My parents were opposites. They made it work.”

“Because they had that spark. They still have that spark.”

“And Jayce and I never did,” I sigh, resigned. I’m not sure if it’s over the fact I’m single again, or the fact it took me three years to realize something I should have early on.

“I don’t think you did,” Amelia says sympathetically. “But fear not!” She perks up. “This is the perfect time for a breakup.”

“Perfect?” I furrow my brows, continuing through the airport terminal. “How so?”

“I’ve seen Audrey’s brothers. And since they’ll be at her wedding this weekend, it’s the perfect time to…enjoy yourself, if you catch my meaning.”

“I’m not hooking up with one of Audrey’s brothers.”

Or anyone, for that matter. It’s too soon.

“You’re going to a wedding where there will be an all-you-can-eat buffet of eye candy. If I were you, I’d partake in the buffet. Hell, I’d consider multiple trips to the buffet over the course of the weekend. Sample all the offerings.”

I burst into a fit of giggles. After the past few days — getting into a heated argument with my boyfriend about my job, which ended in our breakup, then spending every minute since then wondering if I was too stubborn in not trying to meet him somewhere in the middle — I need this.

Need to laugh with my oldest friend.

Need to be reminded that life will go on.

Things may suck right now, especially considering I’m about to attend a wedding without the plus one that was supposed to be at my side, forcing me to explain to everyone what happened. But as long as I have my friends, I can get through anything.

“I appreciate the suggestion. But I’m not here to hook up.”

“After three years of what you called mediocre sex, apart from make-up or drunk sex, you deserve a good dicking.”

“I doubt a good dicking will solve anything,” I retort as I round the corner, following the signs for the airport exit.

But as I do, I ram into a hard surface, the unexpected impact causing me to teeter on my heels, my phone clambering to the floor.

Suddenly, a pair of strong hands dart out and grip my hips, steadying me. I inhale a sharp breath, lifting my head, my gaze meeting the most mesmerizing, crystal blue eyes I’ve ever seen.

And attached to those crystal blue eyes is an equally attractive body. Tanned skin. Broad shoulders. Built physique. All clad in an impeccable suit that looks as if it were made just for him.

“Are you okay?”

I blink, not immediately responding, still lost in his penetrating gaze. Something about his eyes are eerily familiar. Have I met him before?

My work takes me all over the world, allows me to meet all types of people. It’s entirely possible we could have previously crossed paths.

But I’d remember meeting someone as attractive as this man. Everything about him — from the flawless suit, to the hypnotic eyes, to the sinful smile, all under a head of dark hair with a distinguished dusting of gray near his sideburns — is sex personified.

No. He’s certainly not someone you’d see and ever forget.

“Miss?”

When I hear his deep voice, I finally snap out of my daze.

“I… Yes.” I scramble out of his hold, hoping a bit of distance will slow my racing heart. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Is that yours?”

I scrunch my brows. “Mine?”

He nods at my cell on the floor, my call with Amelia now forgotten. Luckily, my case did as promised and protected the screen from cracking.

“It is.” I start to bend to grab it at the same time as him, our foreheads smacking.

“I’m sorry,” Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome offers quickly. “Are you okay?”

I meet his concerned eyes, rubbing my forehead. “My mother always said I was hardheaded.” I laugh slightly. “Guess that’s an advantage right now.”

His lips curve, a lightness covering his expression.

I’ve never quite understood the term panty-melting smile.

Until this moment.

My god… The way he smiles at me absolutely melts my panties.

Hell, it does more than just melt my panties. It sets my entire body ablaze.

Which shouldn’t happen, considering I don’t know this man. And I’m only recently single. Recently, as in less than forty-eight hours.

But my body seems to have a mind of its own.

Or rather, my libido does.

“I guess so,” he responds, his smile becoming sexier by the second. “Why don’t you stay here while I do the chivalrous thing and pick up your phone? Is that okay?”

I can’t stop the grin that tugs on my lips. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

He bends down and retrieves my cell, then stands upright, extending it toward me. As I reach for it, our fingers brush. He doesn’t immediately drop his hold on my phone. And I don’t make any motion to pull it from him. Instead, we both maintain our grasp on it, fingers touching as we stare at each other.

When a vibration buzzes against my hand, I snap my attention to my cell, Amelia’s name popping up on it. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome pulls away, stepping back and squaring his shoulders, whatever just transpired between us evaporating.

As if it never happened.

Maybe it didn’t.

Maybe I imagined the entire incident, thanks to the romance novel I read during my flight.

“Safe travels.” He gives me one last smile, this one less affectionate. Less intimate. Less…panty-melting.

“You, too.” My murmured response barely leaves my lips before he skirts past me, disappearing into the hordes of people in the terminal. “Whoever you are.”

CHAPTER TWO

I COLLAPSE onto the luxurious bed of the upscale hotel near Nobb Hill in San Francisco I booked for tonight.

Days ago, I was excited to show Jayce all around one of my favorite cities, hoping it would help him understand why I love what I do so much. Why I wouldn’t mind trading my shoebox of an apartment in New York for a van and spend my days traveling.

But Jayce never seemed interested in leaving the city. At first, I didn’t think it would bother me. I’m a lifelong New Yorker myself. I’ve met more than my fair share of people who believe the world begins and ends at the Hudson.

I didn’t think Jayce was like that, though.

From the day we met, I knew about his fear of flying. I figured if he met the right person, he’d learn to get over those fears. After all, isn’t that what falling in love is? Conquering your fears? Taking a risk?

I thought I was the one he’d conquer his fears for.

Guess I was wrong.

On a long sigh, I glance out the windows at the stunning view of San Francisco from this vantage point, hilly streets giving way to the bay in the distance. Any other time, I’d go explore the city, find the hidden gems most travelers bypass in favor of the more touristy sections. But I’m not in the mood for that right now.

I’m not in the mood to stay in the hotel room I booked for a romantic weekend away with my boyfriend, either.

So instead of wallowing in misery and ordering room service, where I’d overindulge in far too much food than one person can possibly eat, I decide a better alternative is a trip to the hotel bar.

After retrieving my toiletry bag from my suitcase, not bothering to unpack much since I’ll be heading up to wine country in the morning, I freshen my blonde waves and reapply a bit of eyeliner and gloss before pulling on a casual floral dress. Grabbing a sweater, I make my way from my room and into a waiting elevator.

“What can I get you?” A handsome man places a cocktail napkin in front of me as I hoist myself onto a plush high-top chair at one end of the mostly vacant bar.

“Gin martini.”

“Coming right up.”

He retreats, grabbing a bottle off the top shelf as I take in the upscale lounge, the lighting subdued. Jazz music plays at a low level, a few patrons sitting along the bar or at one of the lounge tables. At six o’clock on a Friday, it’s not too busy yet. That will probably change in a few hours.

“Anything else I can get you right now?” the bartender asks, pulling my attention back to him as he sets my martini on a coaster.

“Not at the moment.”

“Enjoy.”

I bring the chilled glass up to my lips, exhaling at the first taste of my drink. After the past few days, it’s well deserved. And much needed.

“So you’re a classic martini kind of girl, then?”

I stiffen, not immediately moving.

I may have only heard that voice for the first time earlier today, but I’d recognize it anywhere.

Probably because I replayed our chance encounter more times than I care to disclose.

More times than I should have, considering I’m supposed to be mourning my failed relationship.

I slowly look to my right, blinking when my eyes fall on Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome sitting only a few spots down from me.

What are the chances we’d both be at the same bar in the same hotel, especially in a city the size of San Francisco? Math and statistics have never been my strong suit, unlike Jayce, but even I know they can’t be all that high.

“Why is that?” I retort with a smirk. “Think because I’m only a few years out of college, I’d still be in my Long Island Iced Tea phase? Or better yet, Jungle Juice?”

He chuckles, the sound deep and enthralling, affecting parts of me that haven’t experienced a tingle or rush of excitement in too long now.

“Certainly not. Despite your youthful appearance, from the moment you bumped into me — literally — I sensed you were mature beyond your years.”

I edge toward him, crossing my legs as I sip on my drink. “Then what drink did you assume I’d order, if not a gin martini?”

He brushes his thumb along his bottom lip. “Champagne.”

I stiffen, his response rendering me mute. I typically am more of a champagne drinker. Jayce thought it odd. Thought champagne should be reserved for celebrations and special occasions. As I repeatedly told him, every day should be celebrated. So that’s what I do.

“By your stunned expression, I’m right. Aren’t I?” A smile bordering on arrogant crosses his face.

“What makes you think I prefer champagne?”

“Just a feeling I get. Based on the designer luggage you were carrying and the shoes you’re currently wearing…” He rakes his gaze down my legs, heat building behind his eyes as they focus on my red-soled heels before gradually returning his stare to mine, “your tastes are sophisticated and refined. Sure, a classic gin martini could say sophistication and class, but not like a glass of champagne does. Most people only drink champagne on special occasions. Not you, though. Or maybe you prefer to look at every day as a special occasion.”

My lips part, wondering how this man, this complete stranger, could know so much about me after only spending seconds with me. Maybe we have met before, but I somehow erased it from my memory. That’s the only possible explanation for why he seems to know more about what makes me tick than my boyfriend of three years ever did.

“So that begs the question…” He leans closer as I take another long sip of my drink. “Why the martini tonight?”

I swallow down the liquid, then return the glass to the bar. “I’ve had a rough couple of days. Guess I needed something a bit stronger.” I flash a smile. “And what about you? Are you strictly a scotch drinker?”

“While I do enjoy a great glass of wine, when I’m having a drink at a bar, I prefer some sort of single malt.”

“And what does that say about your personality?”

He licks his lips, passing me a devious grin. “That I don’t rush things. That I prefer to take my time savoring every flavor that crosses my tongue instead of guzzling down some cheap liquor. That I prefer to experience life.”

I squirm slightly in my chair, unable to stop my brain from contemplating all the ways I wouldn’t mind this man taking his time to savor me. To experience me. I shouldn’t be thinking this way, but my brain and libido seem to be on two different pages around him.

“To experiencing life.” I lift my glass in his direction.

“Experiencing life,” he repeats, tilting his drink toward me before taking a sip.

As he lowers it back to the bar, he looks forward once more. So I do the same, attempting to ignore the electricity crackling in the space between us. When I sense his eyes on me again, I glance his way.

He furrows his brows, seeming to weigh his next course of action. Then he gestures to the chair beside me.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

I open my mouth, not immediately responding. With all the traveling I do, I’ve always made it a point not to flirt with anyone I meet along the way.

Then again, up until now, I’ve had a boyfriend. Still, I’ve only been single for a few days. There must be some sort of rule about how long I’m required to wait before having a drink with a sexy stranger in a hotel bar. If we were together three years, I should at least give Jayce the courtesy of waiting more than a few days. Shouldn’t I?

Just then, Amelia’s voice sounds in my head, encouraging me to indulge myself this weekend. That I shouldn’t concern myself with Jayce’s feelings, especially after the way he so easily wrote off my career as more of a hobby. That I deserve to have some fun.

And there’s no doubt in my mind. I’d most definitely have fun with this man, despite the obvious age difference between us. But maybe that’s what I need. Someone more mature. Who’s learned that life doesn’t revolve around him all the time.

I lift my gaze, clear blue pools staring back at me, full of expectation and something I can’t quite label. Want. Need. Desire. It leaves me breathless.

So instead of thanking my mysterious stranger for his company and retreating to my room, I subtly nod.

“I’d like that.”

CHAPTER THREE

“I’M GAVIN.” He extends his hand as he lowers himself into the barstool beside me.

“Eloise,” I respond, placing my hand in his.

He wraps his fingers around mine. But when a normal handshake would end, ours doesn’t. Instead, he continues to hold my hand, brushing his thumb along my knuckles.

“Eloise,” he repeats.

I’ve heard that name all my life, but there’s something different about the way his tongue caresses it. The hair on my nape stands on end, electricity heating my veins.

“That’s a beautiful name.”

“Thank you,” I exhale, my eyes locked with his, unable to look away.

“My pleasure.” He keeps my hand in his grasp for several more moments. When he eventually pulls back, my skin longs for his touch.

Needing to do something to settle my nerves, I grab my drink and finish the last few sips. Gavin quickly signals the bartender and orders another round.

There’s something so decisive about his presence. As if he doesn’t have a hesitant bone in his body.

It makes me wonder what he’d be like in the bedroom. I may not know much about him, but I get the feeling he’d be control personified. Not in a bad way. In a way that would make me feel more fulfilled than I ever had with Jayce. He’d be dominant yet appreciative. Powerful yet generous. Commanding yet considerate.

And like he said before, he’d take his time to savor every last moment of the experience instead of rushing to get to what’s next.

Which is exactly what sex with Jayce felt like. Like I was just something else he had to check off his to-do list.

“Eloise?”

At the sound of his deep voice, I snap out of my thoughts.

“What was that?” I ask, praying he doesn’t pick up on the fact I was fantasizing about being beneath him.

Or on top of him.

Or in any number of positions with this man who has bad idea written all over him.

“I said,” he begins, leaning toward me.

And unlike all the guys my age I’ve dated, I’m not instantly assaulted with the overpowering stench of body wash or cologne. Instead, I’m treated to his natural scent — a mixture of citrus, leather, and something else I can’t pinpoint. Something refreshing.

“What brings you to the city by the bay?”

I take a long sip of my drink. “A wedding…more or less.”

“More or less?”

“Yeah.” I bite my lower lip. The instant I do, his gaze darts toward my mouth, heat building behind his sinful eyes.

“Care to explain?” he asks smoothly.

“A good friend of mine is getting married up in Napa tomorrow. So I flew out here to celebrate with her. Then…”

“Yes?” Gavin inches closer, arching a brow.

He even makes that look incredibly sexy.

Then again, I have a feeling this man could make the most mundane tasks, like doing laundry and putting away the dishes, look sexy.

“After that, I’d planned to spend the next few weeks driving down PCH, following my nose.”

“But…” He takes a sip of his drink, drawing my attention to his mouth.

“But my boyfriend was supposed to be here with me.” My expression falls. “Now ex-boyfriend.”

I fidget with my martini glass, the alcohol I’ve consumed causing me to be much more forthcoming and open than I normally would be with someone I don’t know.

“There was this part of me that hoped this trip would bring us closer together. Not only would we be going to a friend’s wedding and celebrating their love, but then I’d also show him what I do.”

“What you do?” Gavin tilts his head.

I smile hesitantly as I explain, “I have a travel vlog.”

He opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, I cut him off.

“I know how it sounds. Like I’m another twenty-something looking for her fifteen minutes of fame so she doesn’t have to find a real job. Trust me…” I roll my eyes. “I’ve heard it all before, especially from my ex. But that’s not what I’m about at all.

“So many people come to New York and only see the typical touristy things. The Statue of Liberty. Times Square. But they ignore the soul of the city. So I started doing these short videos showing the hidden gems in New York. They took off and now I travel around the world and feature hidden gems in various cities. The obscure places that are overlooked but shouldn’t be. The soul of these places. And since I have a degree in journalism and marketing, I guess this seemed like a natural thing for me to do. Plus, I love to travel.”

“So you’re following your dreams,” Gavin comments thoughtfully.

I smile. “I suppose I am.”

“Then why do you feel compelled to explain yourself to me? Like you’re not proud of what you do?”

“I love what I do,” I argue. “And I’m proud of it.”

“But?” he goads, sensing there’s more.

On a long sigh, I face forward. “My ex always made me feel like it was more of a hobby. That’s why this trip was so important to me.” I meet his eyes once more. “I thought if he saw everything that went into what I do, all the research I conduct before going to these places, then maybe he’d understand. We were together when it all took off. He probably thought it was a fluke, that the few viral videos I had would be it. But now that I’ve put some space between us, I think he was bitter about my success to the point of making me choose between him and everything I’ve achieved.”

Gavin studies me for several long moments, processing my story.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what possessed me to go into all of this with you,” I blurt out. “You didn’t come down here to listen to some sob story about my breakup with my boyfriend. I’ll stop talking now.”

I take another long sip from my drink as silence stretches between us. But in the quiet, I feel his unwavering gaze focused on me. Then he curves closer, his proximity causing a shiver to trickle down my spine, my core clenching in delicious anticipation.

“But if you do that…” His voice is low and seductive, “I won’t be able to watch your mouth move.”

I slowly shift my eyes toward his, unsure I heard him correctly.

“And I really like watching your mouth move.”

“I don’t—”

“If you ask me, he’s an idiot,” he interrupts before I can finish my thought.

It’s a good thing, considering I’m not exactly sure what to say to that.

“I don’t know much about you,” he continues. “But from what I’ve learned — that you’re a successful woman, a business owner at that — he’s crazy to let you go. If you were mine, I certainly wouldn’t. Not without a fight.”

My cheeks warm, butterflies flapping in my stomach over the prospect of being his. It’s so far out of the realm of possibility it’s laughable. I have no idea where he lives, who he is, what he does. Not to mention he’s obviously much older than me.

But right now, I don’t care about that. All I do care about is the fact that this man, this stranger, looks at me with more admiration and desire than Jayce has in years.

“Want to come to a wedding this weekend and tell that to all my friends who will ask why I’m missing my plus one?”

He chuckles, his smile lighting up his eyes. “If I didn’t already have plans, I’d happily take you up on that offer. Sadly, I’m off to Maui tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, poor baby,” I jest.

“Life’s rough, but someone’s got to do it.”

I meet his gaze and lift my glass. “I’ll drink to that.”

CHAPTER FOUR

“SO WHAT’S YOUR STORY?” I ask Gavin. “Why are you going to Maui, apart from the obvious reason that it’s gorgeous?”

“I have a travel vlog,” he says with a smile.

“Really?” I shift my body towards his, my leg brushing against his. It’s a brief contact, but it causes those butterflies in my stomach to flap their wings yet again.

“No.” His eyes sparkle with amusement as that sexy laugh rumbles from his chest once more.

I can’t help but marvel at how different he is from Jayce. I used to like how serious he was. How motivated and ambitious he was. It reminded me of my parents’ relationship. They’re as opposite as two people can be, my mother a free spirit like me, my dad a college professor and lawyer. They make it work, despite their differences. Found their common ground.

I thought Jayce and I had our common ground, too. Although I should have known a shared tragedy wouldn’t be enough to keep us together.

“Truthfully, I’m not a big fan of traveling. I’ve done my share of it. Still do. But there’s nothing like coming home to my own bed.”

“What do you do that forces you to travel?”

“I’m a doctor.”

I blink, scrutinizing him. I’m not sure what I expected him to say. But now that it’s out there, I can see him as a doctor. I certainly wouldn’t mind being on his exam table.

“And that requires travel?”

“Every summer, I volunteer with Médecins sans Frontières,” he responds with near-perfect French enunciation.

“Doctors Without Borders?”

He nods, the motion barely noticeable.

And another piece of the puzzle snaps into place. I may not be in the medical field, but I know what it takes to work with that organization. The time commitment to volunteer. The fact he’d sacrifice months of his time to travel to some third-world country to deliver much-needed medical care speaks volumes to the type of person he is.

“What kind of medicine do you practice?” I edge closer toward him, my curiosity in him growing by the second.

Along with my attraction.

“Infectious diseases and internal medicine.”

“So you’re like a real-life Dr. House.”

“More or less.” He laughs politely. “But I’d like to think I’m not that much of a crotchety bastard.”

“Trust me. You’re not. Even before I learned you’re a doctor who selflessly volunteers his time, I knew you weren’t just some sip.”

He studies me quizzically. “Sip?”

“It’s a nickname I came up with to describe all the arrogant business men I’ve had the unfortunate pleasure of coming across in my travels.”

“Ah,” he exhales in understanding. “I think I know the type. The ones that always have to talk on their cells, and not quietly either.”

“Certainly not.” I roll my eyes. “They need to broadcast their business to everyone. Throw around some cliché buzzwords to pad their over-inflated egos.”

“Like optics,” he offers.

“Deep dive,” I shoot back.

He licks his lips. “Customer journey.”

“Incentivize.”

“Unpack this all.”

“Drill down.” I sip my drink, my smile growing wider by the second.

“Touchpoint.”

I meet his eyes as we both say, “Synergy.” Then we burst out laughing, the sound carrying throughout the bar.

But neither one of us cares if we’re interrupting anyone else’s conversation. We’re in a bubble where it’s just us. Where nothing else matters.

Maybe Amelia was right. Maybe meeting someone new is exactly what I need, even if it’s only fleeting.

“So… Sip?” Gavin asks once our laughter dies down. “Why do you call business travelers a sip?”

“Self-important prick.”

He laughs once more. Then he raises his rocks glass. “To not being a self-important prick.”

I clink my glass with his. “To not being a self-important prick,” I repeat.

My eyes remain glued to his as I bring my drink to my mouth. Once I swallow, I return my glass to the bar. He does the same, but his eyes don’t stray from me. There’s an intensity vibrating in the space between us.

And a desire I didn’t think possible mere days after breaking up with my boyfriend.

Then again, Amelia urged me to have some fun this weekend. While I doubt she meant for that fun to be in the form of an older man, a doctor at that, I don’t think she’d disapprove. In fact, if she were here, she’d probably encourage me to see where this led. Hell, she’d most likely push me into his hotel room, telling me not to come out until I’m sore in all the places that currently ache with need.

“So… Maui? Is it a work trip?” I ask in an effort to get my mind out of the increasingly perverse thoughts about how much this man could make me ache.

“Nah.” He flashes me a smile. “I don’t normally take much time for myself, so this year I vowed to do more of that. I’m meeting a few of my friends from the Peace Corps out there. A reunion of sorts.”

“Peace Corps? Doctors without Borders? What are you? The male version of Mother Teresa?” I joke.

“Trust me, darling.” His voice drops to a dangerous level as he curves toward me, his breath prickling my skin. “I’m no saint.”

I squirm in my seat, squeezing my thighs together to release the need that mounts with every moment I spend in his presence. But I fear nothing will.

Straightening, I increase the distance between us before my mind conjures more images of how un-saintlike I hope Gavin truly is.

“You’ll love Maui.” I bring my glass back to my lips, praying he doesn’t notice my shaking hand. “It’s a tight race with Kauai for my favorite island.”

“Any hidden gems I should know about?”

I don’t hesitate before answering. “Haleakala Crater.”

“And what’s so special about that?”

“It’s one of those places that defies description. So peaceful. Serene. Inspiring.” I sigh, instantly transported back to my time in Maui. “It’s 10,000 feet above sea level, so you’re above the clouds. You’ll want to bring a coat, if you packed one. Since you’re that high up, it’s cold. And with the air being so thin, you’ll need to take it easy. Drink lots of water so you don’t get dehydrated.”

I lick my lips, attempting to relay how magnificent this place truly is. “I’ve never been religious, but if there’s a heaven, it would be like the Haleakala Crater. It’s not to be missed.”

He nods. “Sounds amazing.”

“It truly is. Especially watching the sunrise from that high.”

After a brief silence, he asks, “And how about here?”

I dart my eyes toward him. “Pardon?”

“Here. In San Francisco. What’s your favorite hidden gem in this city?”

I pinch my lips together, considering my response. There are so many things about this city I’ve grown to love. Marshall’s Beach with its incredible view of the Golden Gate Bridge. Corona Heights Park with the panoramic views of downtown San Francisco, the Twin Peaks, and the East Bay. The Sutro Baths Ruin with its storied past, and even a few rumors that it’s haunted.

All great spots. All things I hoped to show Jayce during this trip.

But one place in particular stands out. One place I know Jayce would hate because it embodies everything I love.

Glancing at my phone, I check the time, seeing it’s a few minutes past nine.

What I’m about to do goes against every single one of my rules when traveling alone. But if I don’t do this, I know I’ll regret it. And I refuse to live with regrets. I can’t.

“How about I show you instead?”

He doesn’t say anything at first, obviously surprised by my invitation. When several seconds pass with still no response, I part my lips, about to apologize for suggesting it. In retrospect, it was a crazy thought.

But before I can offer my apology, he cuts me off, grabbing my hand in his.

“I’d love that.”

CHAPTER FIVE

“THIS IS YOUR FAVORITE HIDDEN GEM?” Gavin’s nose turns up as he stares at the brick building where our Uber just dropped us off. “A…church?”

“It’s not exactly a church anymore.” I flash him a mischievous smile.

“What is it?” He scans the sidewalk, watching as dozens of locals filter into the building.

“You’ll see.” I wrap my hand around his and drag him up the steps.

As we cross the threshold into the vast space, I grin at Gavin’s bewildered expression. I had the same impression my first time here, too. At least I had some sort of warning about what to expect, something I didn’t give Gavin. Regardless, it’s not every day you walk through the doors of a church that’s been stripped to its bones and transformed into a roller skating rink, the altar now a DJ platform, music from the 70s and 80s blaring.

“A…roller rink?” He arches a brow, disbelief heavy in his tone.

“It’s not just any roller rink. It’s a roller rink in what used to be a Catholic Church. One that once hosted Vietnam protests and Black Panther Sunday breakfasts. There’s history in these walls.”

“And you like the idea of roller skating in a place of history?”

“I like the uniqueness of it all. And maybe the irreverence of it, too.”

“Then let’s be irreverent.”

Within minutes, we’ve exchanged our shoes for a pair of roller skates, joining dozens of other people skating circles in the old church.

And lucky for me, Gavin doesn’t let go of my hand as we skate. If anything, his grip becomes more intense. More sensual. More possessive, especially after a few guys glance my way, checking me out.

Or maybe I’m imagining it. He has no claim over me.

But part of me wants him to have a claim over me.

“I have to admit…,” he shouts over the sound of Earth, Wind, and Fire, “this is the last thing I expected to do tonight.”

“What? You didn’t anticipate some hot-mess express ramming into you in the airport, only to cross paths with her again at the hotel bar, then have her drag you to a roller disco in an old church?”

He throws his head back, his laughter filling the darkened space, the only source of illumination that of the club lights moving in time with the music.

“That about sums it up.”

“What can I say? I love the unexpected. That’s why I enjoy what I do so much. I never know what each day will bring. Hell, some days, I don’t even know where I’ll be sleeping that night.”

“You follow your nose, so to speak.”

“Exactly!” I beam before my expression falls. “That’s also why things didn’t work with my ex. Why they probably never would have worked out, no matter how much I wanted them to.”

“Why’s that?”

“He likes routine. Likes to know what’s going to happen every second of every day. He doesn’t have a spontaneous bone in his body. At first, I thought it didn’t matter. That we’d complement each other. I’d be the yin to his yang. The light to his dark.”

“The fire to his ice,” Gavin suggests.

“Exactly.”

“But instead of complementing each other, he only wanted to dull your spark.”

I slow down as I consider his assessment.

A few hours ago, I would have defended Jayce. Claimed he was still getting used to all the recent changes in our relationship that came with my new career path. From the beginning, I did everything I could to make sure my newfound success wouldn’t come between us. I continued to support him in all his dreams. But along the way, he stopped supporting mine.

“I suppose he did,” I murmur as the music transitions to a slow number, “If You Leave Me Now” by Chicago filling the air.

I slide my eyes to Gavin’s, meeting his penetrating gaze, both of us slowing to a stop. He lifts a hand to my cheek. Time seems to stand still as he gently brushes a tendril of hair behind my ear, the space between us throbbing with need.

“Like I said before, he’s a fool. I may not know you well, but from the little time I’ve spent with you, I can’t imagine wanting to do anything to dull your shine.” He runs a finger along my cheek, my teeth chattering of their own volition. “To do anything to erase that smile from your face.”

Several protracted moments pass as we simply stare at each other, neither one of us moving.

Neither of us retreating, either.

And I don’t want to retreat. Hell, in this moment, I feel like this complete stranger actually sees me.

He may not have the same hopes, dreams, and desires as I do. But he appreciates mine.

He appreciates me.

Something I haven’t felt in a long time now. At least not from Jayce.

Caught up in the moment and the way Gavin admires me, I loop my arm around his shoulders and pull him toward me, pressing my lips to his.

He inhales a sharp breath at the contact, stiffening in surprise. When he doesn’t return my kiss, I quickly pull back, embarrassment burning my cheeks.

“I’m sorry.” I avert my gaze as I skate away, cursing myself for misreading the signs. What the hell was I thinking?

In seconds, he catches up to me, but doesn’t say anything, increasing the awkwardness. So I do what I always do in uncomfortable situations and attempt to fill the void with word vomit.

“I shouldn’t have done that.” My apology spills out nervously. “I don’t know anything about you. For all I know, you could be married. Actually, I know you’re not. There’s no ring. Or indentation from a ring. You could have a girlfriend. Even if you don’t, it doesn’t mean you’d be interested in me. It’s not like this would go anywhere after tonight, considering we live in two different worlds. Hell, I’m not even sure where you live. I guess you can say I have a habit of living in the moment and—”

Before I can utter another syllable, Gavin grips my hand, yanking me to a stop. He moves his hands to my cheeks, his hold firm. Resolute. Unwavering.

“Then let’s live in the moment,” he growls.

He. Fucking. Growls.

I don’t have a chance to prepare myself before he slams his mouth against mine, his motions demanding, powerful, and everything I always imagined a kiss should be.

I still at first, momentarily taken by surprise. But it’s short-lived. Within seconds, I curve my body against his, losing myself in him and this moment.

Because this moment is everything I never knew was missing from my life.

CHAPTER SIX

THE SECOND THE door to my hotel room closes, Gavin slams my back against the wall, his firm hand gripping my jaw, locking me in place.

“Give me this mouth,” he demands, crushing his lips against mine in a devouring kiss, tongue teasing and tantalizing me in a way no other man’s kiss ever has. He circles his hips, his arousal pulsing against me. I release a tiny moan.

“You drive me crazy. You know that?” His voice is husky and filled with desire. “The second you bumped into me earlier, I couldn’t stop fantasizing about having this amazing body pressed against mine.”

He buries his head in the crook of my neck, his unshaven jawline scraping against my skin, flaming the fire burning inside me.

“About how you would feel when I give you more pleasure than you’ve ever experienced. About the sounds you’d make as I push your body to its limits. Past its limits.”

“Oh god,” I whimper, my core clenching at the thought.

Jayce never talked to me like this. Even when I attempted to be vocal in the bedroom, he never reciprocated. As if he were simply going through the motions to get to what was next.

But not Gavin. He lives in the moment.

And this moment is pretty fucking hot.

“Make no mistake, Eloise.” He returns his gaze to mine as he slides his hand down my body. Gripping my hip, he steers me farther into the room, the dominance in his touch making it seem as if this is his domain, not mine.

Truthfully, I’m okay with that. I’m happy to give up control. To let someone else take the lead for once.

“I will push you past your limits,” he warns as he continues leading me backwards into my room, his eyes not straying, making me see the truth in his words. A part of me is slightly hesitant and nervous.

But the other part is excited about the prospect. To see how far I can go with whatever this is.

When the back of my legs hit the mattress, he stops, looping an arm around my waist and pulling my body flush with his.

“I’m not like those boys you’ve been with. I’m not timid in the bedroom. My hands don’t shake when I slip them under your shirt.”

In demonstration, he reaches for the bottom of my dress, yanking it over my head and throwing it to the floor. Then he spins me around, his motions decisive and powerful as he unclasps my bra, leaving it on top of my dress.

His breath is hot on my neck as his large hand moves to my breast. When he pinches my nipple, a moan escapes, a mixture of pleasure and pain filling me. I close my eyes, squeezing my thighs together, more turned on than I’ve been in years.

Or ever.

Fire scalds my veins, and I fear the only one who can extinguish the flames is this man.

Quickly, I turn around, balling his shirt in my hand, forcing his mouth closer to mine. I lift myself onto my toes, taking his bottom lip between my teeth.

“Enough with the foreplay. There will be time for that later.” I pull back, eyes locking with his. “But right now, I need you to fuck me. If I don’t feel you between my legs in the next few seconds, I’m going to lose my mind.”

His pupils dilate, gaze darkening, becoming almost dangerous. He wraps his hand around my hair, yanking my head to the side.

“Is that what you want?” He drags his tongue along my elongated neck, teeth skimming my skin. “For me to fuck you?”

“Yes,” I respond without hesitation. It’s an odd response, considering my reluctance to entertain the idea of sleeping with someone else when Amelia suggested it earlier.

But this feels right.

Gavin slams his mouth against mine, his kiss consuming me. I reach for his shirt, frantic fingers attempting to unbutton it, our lips not breaking as I push the shirt off his shoulders.

And they don’t break as he steps out of his shoes and jeans, pushing his briefs down his legs.

And they still don’t break as he slides my panties off my body, leaving nothing between us. It’s not until he lowers me onto the bed and crawls on top of me, his thick arousal teasing my center, that he tears his lips from mine, eyes intense as they meet mine.

He arches a brow, making sure this is what I want.

“Just for tonight,” I tell him, unsure if it’s a reminder for him or me.

He lowers his lips to mine. “Just for tonight,” he repeats, sealing our vow with a kiss.

Then he thrusts into me, my cries of pleasure echoing through the room.

And unlike Jayce, Gavin doesn’t try to silence me. In fact, he takes it as a challenge to see how loud he can force me to be, propelling me to places I didn’t think possible until I can’t hold it in any longer and detonate around him.

“Fuck, Elle,” he grunts as my orgasm seizes me, his motions increasing in response, as if he were holding back to make sure I found my release.

Another thing Jayce never did.

“You feel so good when you come. When your pussy constricts around me.” His words are raspy, his tone heightening the desire in my veins. “It’s goddamn heaven.”

Teeth biting the sensitive skin on my neck, he increases his motions to an almost punishing pace. Then he releases a strangled cry, jerking through his own orgasm before collapsing on top of me, the only sound in the room that of our labored breathing.

“Goddamn. You’re incredible.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” I jest, running my fingers through his hair, my body still tingling with the aftereffects of my orgasm. “Especially for some old guy I met in a bar.”

He pulls back, eyes meeting mine. “Some old guy you met in a bar?”

In one swift move, he rolls onto his back, pulling me on top of him. He grips my ass, then gives it a smack. It’s not harsh, but it’s not a light tap, either, setting my insides ablaze once more.

“Say it again, and there will be consequences.”

A warmth floods my stomach at the thought, my pulse increasing, especially if those consequences involve more sex or spanking… Or both.

Smirking, I brush my lips against his. “Old man.”

“Oh, you naughty girl, you.”

I meet his eyes. “You haven’t seen naughty yet. But I have all night to show you how bad I can be.”

He fists my hair, pulling my head to the side as he nips at my neck. “I like the sound of that.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

DAYLIGHT FILTERS INTO THE ROOM, rousing me from one of the best dreams I’ve had in ages. I ran into a sexy, mature man at the airport, then again at the hotel bar. From the instant our eyes met, I felt the sizzling chemistry. And when we finally succumbed to our desires, there was no question in my mind… Our chemistry was combustible.

A pair of warm lips feather against my shoulder blade, forcing a subtle whimper to escape my mouth. “I was worried I’d dreamt it all,” I murmur, my voice scratchy from sleep… Or lack thereof.

Gavin certainly made good on his promise. He wasn’t like any other man I’ve ever slept with, a fact he demonstrated over and over again as his body gave me more pleasure than I thought possible.

“I hope that’s not because you regret last night.”

I turn onto my back, meeting Gavin’s sparkling blue eyes as he sits on the edge of the body. I run my fingers through his thick, dark hair that’s slightly disheveled from a mixture of sleep and…extracurricular activities. Regardless, it’s still sexy as hell. Everything about him, even first thing in the morning, is sexy as hell.

“Absolutely not. Don’t let this go to your head, but I’ve never come so hard. Or so many times in one night.”

He leans down, feathering a kiss on my lips. “What can I say? I like to set the bar high.”

I giggle. “You didn’t just set it high. You set a goddamn world record.”

“You deserve nothing but the best, beautiful.”

I sigh as he moves his lips against mine. It’s not the carnal, lust-filled exchanges he treated me to all night, but it still sets me on fire, my core clenching with need.

A need I fear will go unmet now that it’s day.

Too soon, he brings our kiss to an end, expelling a long breath laced with frustration and longing.

“You have to go,” I say, noting he’s already dressed in his crumpled button-down shirt and jeans from last night.

He briefly closes his eyes. “My flight leaves in a few hours. I still need to shower and get to the airport.”

I glance at the clock, seeing it’s after eight. “I need to get on the road, too. It’s about a ninety-minute drive up to Calistoga. The wedding’s not until five, but I need time to make myself beautiful.” I flash a smile.

“You look absolutely gorgeous right now, if you ask me.”

My heart skips a beat, warmth filling me. I can’t remember the last time Jayce called me beautiful. I assumed it was because we’d been together so long. But should that really matter? My father still calls my mother beautiful on a regular basis, and they’ve been together for over twenty years.

“Thanks for your vote of confidence, but I’m not sure ‘just fucked’ is the on-trend look for wedding guests right now.”

He chuckles, the addictive rumble hitting me between my thighs. “Too bad, because it’s quite a sexy look on you.”

Cupping his cheek, I urge his lips back to mine. “I’m glad you like it.”

He treats me to one last kiss before pulling away and standing. “Thanks for showing me your favorite hidden gem in this city. It was a night I’ll never forget.”

“Me, either.”

He holds my gaze for another moment, then makes his way toward the door. He’s about to open it when he stops, looking over his shoulder at me.

“You may like a roller rink in a church, but I think I have a different favorite spot. A hidden gem, if you will.”

I prop myself up on my elbows, scrunching my brows. “What’s that?”

He flashes me a devious grin. “Between your legs.”

His stare turns heated as he rakes it over my body. Then he opens the door and leaves before I can utter a response, his confession rendering me mute.

I take a minute to bask in his words, debating whether I should run after him and ask for his phone number so I’d have some way of contacting him.

Then I remind myself it’s for the best. I haven’t been single in three years. I should enjoy this time and figure out what I really want out of life.

Eyeing the time once more, I reluctantly pull myself from the bed and trudge across the floor toward the bathroom.

As I pass the desk, I spy a piece of the hotel stationary with a barely legible scrawl on it. Squinting, I pick it up, my insides fluttering when I realize it’s from Gavin.

If you think of any other hidden gems I should see while I’m in Maui, give me a call.

Better yet, give me a call anyway. I’ll miss the sound of your voice.

Yours,

Gavin

I sigh, running my fingers along the number he left. Then I grab my cell and shoot off a text.

I already miss the sound of your voice.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“ELOISE!” a voice calls out the second I step off the elevator and into the lobby of the posh hotel in the heart of Napa Valley, the grounds surrounded by acres of vines.

I dart my eyes to the source, spying Audrey’s sister standing beside a tall, built man.

“Hi, Parker.” I walk into her arms, hugging her. “So good to see you again.”

“You, too. Eloise, this is my boyfriend, Aiden. Aiden, this is my sister’s friend, Eloise. She has a travel vlog where she finds the hidden gems instead of focusing on popular tourist destinations. It’s how she met my sister. Audrey was doing her rich people house-sitting thing, and the two ran into each other at a bar in Beverly Hills.”

“Is that right?” Aiden arches a brow.

“I overheard a woman ask the bartender if he knew anywhere that had great jazz music,” I explain. “He didn’t. But I did. A hidden gem that serves jazz music with a side of baked potatoes.”

“Baked potatoes?” Aiden asks, the combination obviously seeming strange. It initially seemed strange to me, too. Until I was treated to some of the most amazing music I’d ever heard.

And the potatoes were quite tasty, too.

“Yup.”

“And that’s where Audrey met Liam,” Parker explains. “If she hadn’t been looking for a jazz club, and if Eloise hadn’t suggested one, then dragged her out, they never would have met. I bet you never thought it would lead to this.” Parker waves her hand at all the people milling around the lobby, everyone wearing dresses and suits, obviously here for Audrey’s wedding.

“Certainly not.”

“Speaking of which, where’s Jayce?”

My expression falls. “He, uh… Well, it didn’t work out.”

“Oh, no.” She covers her hand with her heart. “I’m so sorry to hear that. All day, Audrey’s been scheming a way to make sure you caught the bouquet. She was convinced it would be only a matter of time until Jayce proposed.” She runs her hand along my arm. “Are you okay?”

I grit a smile, not wanting to admit I thought the same thing. A part of me even contemplated the idea he might propose during this trip. Not anymore, though.

“I’m fine. It’s for the best. If you’ll excuse me. The bar’s calling my name.”

“I should go check on the bride to see if she needs any last-minute help anyway. See you out there.” She smiles. “And I’m sorry to hear about Jayce.”

“Thank you,” I say politely, then make a beeline for the bar.

Is this what tonight will be like? Constantly explaining my breakup with Jayce. Being forced to listen to everyone say how they thought we’d eventually get married. Glancing at the empty chair beside me where Jayce should be, wondering if I made a mistake.

Hell, I haven’t even told my parents yet. When I boarded that plane to come out here, a part of me held onto the hope that we’d reconcile.

But after last night, I’m not sure I want to reconcile. Gavin helped me see something I never did.

Or maybe he helped me see something I was happy to remain blind to.

That Jayce never appreciated me.

That I shouldn’t have stayed with him because of some misplaced sense of obligation to him.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asks as I slide onto a barstool.

“Champagne.” A smile tugs on my lips from the memory of my conversation with Gavin last night.

“Of course.” He retreats, returning in moments with a flute filled with effervescent liquid.

I bring it to my lips, savoring in that first taste just as my phone buzzes. I expect it to be Audrey calling to get the scoop on my breakup with Jayce, assuming Parker wasted no time at all in telling her.

Instead, Gavin’s name flashes on the screen.

Which only causes the butterflies to return to my stomach.

“Hey, you,” I answer, taking another sip of my champagne.

“Am I interrupting anything?” he replies, the deep timbre of his voice causing a fluttering in my belly.

“I’m just sitting at the bar before the ceremony begins. I didn’t think I’d hear from you so soon.”

“Well, I’m standing here, staring at an absolutely breathtaking view, and all I could think about was you.”

“I told you it was beautiful out there, didn’t I?”

“You certainly did. And this view is one of the most stunning things I’ve ever seen.”

Suddenly, a hand brushes along my shoulder blades, the touch surprisingly familiar. I whirl around in my stool, eyes widening when they fall on Gavin in a perfectly tailored three-piece suit, looking like sex personified.

“What are you doing here?” I blink, confident my brain’s playing tricks on me. It has to be. This must be some sort of defense mechanism kicking in. Something to help me cope with the prospect of spending the entire evening telling everyone about my failed relationship with Jayce.

But when Gavin cups my cheek, his thumb delicately brushing my skin, I know this is real. That he’s here.

“I came to see if your offer’s still open.”

“My…offer?” I furrow my brow.

“As your plus one. If the offer still stands, of course.”

I stare at him, mouth agape, his presence here when he should be an ocean away leaving me momentarily breathless. Then I run my hand along his broad chest.

“You did skip out on a trip to Maui for me. It would be rude of me to rescind the offer.”

“It would be. Considering I could be sitting on a white sand beach, checking out bikini-clad women.”

“And yet here you are.”

He nods slightly. “Here I am.”

“Any reason for that?” I ask as I inch my lips closer to his.

“What can I say?” He tilts my chin, staring deep into my eyes. “I was hoping I could score a return visit to my favorite hidden gem. Think that can be arranged?”

Smiling coyly, I respond, “I believe it can.”

I barely have time to get my reply out before he crashes his mouth to mine, his kiss erasing the world around me.

This is the absolute last thing I expected. And perhaps that’s why I love it so much. It’s spontaneous, unprompted, and a bit reckless.

Just like me.

“You’re becoming one of my new favorite hidden gems, too.”

About the Author

T.K. Leigh is a USA Today Bestselling author of romance ranging from fun and flirty to sexy and suspenseful.

Originally from New England, she now resides just outside of Raleigh with her husband, beautiful daughter, rescued special needs dog, and three cats. When she’s not writing, she can be found training for her next marathon or chasing her daughter around the house.

For more information on all of her books, check out her website:

www.tkleighauthor.com

PROTECTIVE STREAKS

A LITTLE BLACK BOOK BONUS SCENE

TABATHA VARGO

“COME FOR ME,” Sebastian whispered in my ear.

My right leg rested on his shoulder while he pumped into me hard and fast, sending me spiraling toward the finish line.

He shifted his body, hitting a different spot, and it was all I needed to push me over the edge. My toes curled, and before I could scream in pleasure, Sebastian covered my mouth so I didn’t wake Ariel. Our daughter was a light sleeper, which meant Sebastian and I had to quiet things down over the years.

“Good girl,” he crooned. “Such a good fucking girl.”

His words were breathless as he pounded into me, racing toward his own release.

Removing his hand from my mouth, I exhaled loudly, digging into his ass cheeks with my nails and lifting my hips to meet his thrusts.

“You like coming on my cock, don’t you?” he asked, resting his forehead against mine and closing his eyes.

“Yes. So much,” I whined, feeling the sensations of another orgasm slowly seeping in.

“Then you’ll love it when I come inside your sensitive little pussy.”

His words sent a rush of pleasure down my spine before it settled in my core.

“Yes. I love it so much, Sebastian. Come inside me.”

He loved it when I begged him during sex. Loved it even more if I was begging him to fill me with his essence.

“Christ you feel fucking amazing, Roslyn,” he said, brushing his warm lips along the side of my jaw. “I’ll never get tired of fucking you. Never.”

We were both desperate for each other. Things were different now that we had Ariel. Once upon a time, we had sex everywhere and at any time. Now, it was when we had time and only in our bedroom. It was quieter—more rushed, but amazing just the same.

“I’m coming,” he growled, his movements becoming erratic.

His words sent me over the edge again.

“Me too.” I covered my mouth with my palm to keep the sounds at bay. There was no being quiet when Sebastian was inside me.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “So tight when you come—fucking perfect.”

Then he stiffened and sweet relief rushed over his expression. Instead of putting all his weight on top of me, he rolled to his side, taking me with him. I sighed into his chest as he sweetly kissed my forehead.

“I love you, Roslyn,” he said, twisting a lock of my red hair between his fingers.

“I love you, too.”

It was time I came clean about the little secret I had been harboring. It wasn’t that I was keeping things from Sebastian, but after two miscarriages that nearly killed him, I wanted to make sure all was well before I confessed that I was pregnant. I also wanted one last good fuck before he found out because after I told him, he was going to treat me like I was a fragile little flower. It didn’t matter what I said or what our doctor told him; he wouldn’t take any chances.

“I have something to tell you,” I whispered against his chest.

His breathing was deeper and I knew he was close to falling asleep.

“I’m listening.” His chest vibrated against my lips.

“I don’t want you to freak out,” I readied him.

He sighed, probably assuming I had gotten into another fender bender and didn’t tell him. The last time he went out of his mind, rushing to where I was sitting beside the car and breaking every traffic rule in the book. To say Sebastian was protective was the understatement of the year.

“Whatever it is, I’ll fix it,” he promised.

I chuckled. There was no fixing this. We had a healthy baby on the way and at twelve weeks I was well past the stage of worrying about an early miscarriage.

“I’m pregnant.”

He stiffened at my words and his arm grew tighter around me. He was worried already with just that simple sentence.

“Don’t worry,” I soothed him, rubbing my palms across his hard stomach. “I’ve already been to two appointments. I’m twelve weeks and things are looking great.”

I grinned against his skin when I felt him shake against me. When he pulled away and looked me in the face, his eyes were brimming with tears. I would never get over Sebastian Black with tears in his eyes. I had seen it a handful of times. Mostly during our wedding and when Ariel was born.

“You’re sure?” Worry darkened his eyes.

I nodded, nibbling my bottom lip.

His broken sigh was filled with relief. “I’m not happy you’re just now telling me, but I’m so thrilled about having another baby I can’t think about that right now.”

Then he was kissing me, hugging me to his chest like I was the most precious thing in his world. I giggled when he moved down and kissed my stomach. I was getting a tiny bump, but nothing too noticeable. Even if there was thickening around my waist that was noticeable, Sebastian would never mention it. He thought I was beautiful no matter what.

THE NEXT MORNING, I woke to an empty bed. I rubbed my eyes with the heel of my hands and yawned. I listened for the sound of Sebastian’s shower, but instead I heard Sebastian’s deep voice followed by Ariel’s laughter. They were up and in the kitchen already, which meant Sebastian had made it a point to let me sleep in.

I showered and brushed my teeth, dressing in a comfortable pair of yoga pants a long shirt. When I finally joined them in the kitchen Sebastian was sitting at the counter with Arial, who was devouring a giant bowl of cereal. She looked up at me when I entered and grinned.

“Good morning, sleepy head.” She giggled.

I kissed her on the cheek. “Good morning, Mermaid.”

Sticking with the cartoon theme of Sebastian’s life, we knew we had to name our little redhead after the Little Mermaid. It only made sense. She wasn’t even two days old before Sebastian decided her nickname would be Mermaid. It was perfect.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Sebastian said, kissing me and handing me a hot mug.

I sipped it, expecting my usual coffee, but the flavor that rolled across my tongue was anything but coffee.

I choked. “What is this?”

“It’s lemon tea. I read it’s better than coffee when you’re …” He nodded toward my stomach.

We had decided the night before that we would wait and tell Ariel about the baby together.

“And when did you read this?” I asked.

I had just told him about the baby the night before, and he hadn’t been awake that much longer than me.

“I couldn’t sleep.” He shrugged.

I went to him and wrapped my arms around his waist. He kissed my forehead and held me close. I knew when I told Sebastian about the baby, he would be nervous about another miscarriage. I hoped that I could find a way to soothe his nerves, otherwise he might not sleep for the next five months or so.

Instead of complaining about my loss of morning coffee, I kissed him softly on the lips and said, “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, Roslyn. Anything.”

And I knew he meant it.

The hormones combined with his sweet words brought happy tears to my eyes, and I quickly changed the subject so that Sebastian didn’t worry even more.

“What time is the opening tonight?” I asked.

Sebastian was a father and husband first and foremost and he excelled at those positions, but when he wasn’t being the family man that I knew and loved he was all business. Opening popular clubs and restaurants in different cities all over the world.

His second club opening in New York was happening tonight, and I was excited to be able to attend. It had been a while since I had gotten dressed up and had a night out with my handsome husband. Knowing the next few months, I was going to feel tired and bloated, one more night out was needed.

“I was thinking we would skip tonight’s opening.”

I paused at his words. “What do you mean? You’re the owner, Sebastian. You can’t skip the opening.”

“Yes. I’m the owner. I can do whatever I want.”

I pulled back, looking at his expression to see if he was serious.

“You don’t want to go?” I asked.

He swallowed and his eyes shifted to the left before connecting with mine again. “I do, but I don’t want to drag you out there, baby. It’s exhausting and I don’t want you overdoing it.”

I chuckled. “I’ll be fine, Sebastian. Plus, I was really looking forward to a night out with you.”

He sighed and grinned at me. “You’re sure it won’t be too much for you?”

I cupped his cheeks and pulled his face down for a kiss. “Being with you is perfect. It’s never too much. It’s just right.”

He kissed me back, but when he opened his eyes, I could see the worry in them. A night out would do him some good, as well.

“Be ready at seven, my queen,” he said, kissing the tip of my nose.

“Yes, sir,” I replied.

He growled softly and grabbed my ass.

Ariel had moved into the den and was watching cartoons on her iPad, which meant he was free to roam until she returned.

I reached down and palmed his thickening cock and he hissed.

“Evil woman.” He grinned. “You’re going to make me late.”

I nibbled his bottom lip, pulling on it a bit before I released it. “No. I’m just giving you a sneak peek of what’s to come tonight.”

I pulled back and moved away when he reached for me again.

“Come here, baby.” He held his arms out to me.

I shook my head. “You don’t want to be late, Mr. Black.”

His eyes darkened before he checked his watch. I knew what he was thinking. There was always time for a quickie. But the time had gotten away from us.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “I need to go, but there’s another matter I want to discuss.”

I took a sip of the tea, realizing it wasn’t that bad, before I set the mug back onto the counter. “Ok, shoot.”

“I was thinking last night. Maybe we should look into a nanny for Ariel. Take a little stress off of you.”

Tears rushed to my eyes once again. Stupid hormones.

“I don’t know. I don’t like the thought of having someone else watch, and play, and feed Ariel. I’m her mother. I should be able to handle growing another little human and taking care of my daughter. Becoming a sibling is going to be a big adjustment for her as it is and I don’t want her to feel like we’re already pushing her to the back burner.”

He moved closer to me and brushed his fingers down my cheek. “Roselyn, it isn’t about what you can and can’t handle and I won’t be the asshole who even tried to pretend to know how hard it is. All I can do is reassure you that I love and support you and I know that you can handle anything.”

I hated the defeated look on his face. I knew it was just him worrying again, but I knew I could handle being a stay-at-home mom and being pregnant again. For the most part, my pregnancy with Ariel had been fairly easy. There was a little morning sickness that was gone early in her second trimester, but besides a touch of heart burn and a crazy craving for gummy worms and nacho cheese sauce, I considered the pregnancy a breeze.

He put his arms around me once again, forgetting he was going to be late. “I know you love Ariel and would do everything for her, but you can’t be there for her a hundred percent if you aren’t taking care of yourself.”

I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean? I would never do anything to put myself, Ariel, or this baby at harm.”

I had worried after the two miscarriage that it was my fault. I only hoped he wasn’t thinking the same.

His face paled and he pulled back. “You know that’s not what I meant, Roselyn.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“If you had help, even if it’s only a few hours to get some extra sleep, or not have to get up on a bad day, then trying to push through the sickness or tiredness you’ll be happier when you are with Ariel. You are not being a bad mom or putting Ariel on the back burner by making sure you’re good mentally and physically for her. I only want what’s best for my girls.”

I hadn’t realized it, but I had allowed a few tears to escape. They rushed down my cheeks, and he wiped them with his thumbs as he cupped my face.

“Please don’t cry. You know what it does to me.”

I nodded and sniffled. I was so used to be strong. Before Sebastian I had to survive on nothing, while keeping my little brother safe and alive. Letting go and allowing him to take care of me had been hard at first. Even now, I struggled with it.

“Okay,” I said taking a deep breath. “I’ll talk to Samantha when she comes about a more permanent position here for a couple of weeks.”

Samantha was the only person Sebastian and I trusted to take care of Ariel for a couple of hours when we needed a date night. She was the person keeping Ariel for us tonight when we went to the opening.

He sighed and smiled at me.

“Good. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

He kissed me goodbye before going into the den and kissing Ariel on her cheek. Then he was gone, leaving me with my lemon tea and the sweetest mermaid on the planet.

I WANTED to wear the red Valentino dress Sebastian had gifted me. He loved me in red because it reminded him that I was still his Jessica Rabbit. However, the tiny twelve-week tummy I was sporting was bigger than I thought and the zipper on the back of my dress wasn’t going up no matter how hard Samantha pulled.

Instead, I opted for the dark green empire waist Alexander McQueen. It hid my growing stomach and was light and comfortable. After putting on my earrings and spritzing myself with Sebastian favorite perfume, I stepped into the den and smiled at Ariel’s expression.

“Oh, mommy, you look like a princess!” She clapped.

I leaned down and kissed her cheek, leaving a hint of red lips. “Thank you. I feel like a princess.”

And I did.

The sound of the door opening and closing sounded and I turned just in time to see Sebastian pause in the foyer across from the den. He stared back at me, a tiny grin pulling at his luscious lips. His eyes flittered away, falling down my body and taking in my dress.

He didn’t say anything because Ariel and Samantha were right there, but his eyes darkened and I knew he liked what he saw. Sex would be happening. Albeit quietly when we got home, but still, it was going to happen.

“You look beautiful, Roslyn.”

I blushed.

“Thank you, sir.”

His eyes darkened even more at my calling him sir. He loved it when I called him that.

“Give me just a bit,” he said, before turning and starting toward our bedroom.

I sat on the sectional and waited before Sebastian returned, freshly showered and wearing the sexiest tux I had ever seen him wear. His shoes shone, and my eyes traveled up his fit body, trailing across his lips before I met his stare. He grinned at me, knowing I was checking him out.

“Ready to go, beautiful?”

I nodded, feeling flutters in my stomach like it was our first date.

We kissed the mermaid on her cheek and told her goodnight before Sebastian opened the door and followed me out to a waiting stretch limo.

“Aw, pulling out the big guns tonight, huh, Mr. Black?”

His palm landed on my lower back before it moved down and brushed my ass.

“It’s all for you, baby.”

The drive to the new club wasn’t long, and when we pulled up, I was shocked by the crowd waiting outside. Cameras were flashing as celebrities lined up on the red carpet to enter and more limos lined the sidewalk waiting behind us.

“Are you ready for this?” Sebastian asked.

I nibbled my bottom lip, suddenly feeling a rush of nerves.

“If this is too much for you, say so and I take you home. We don’t need you overdoing anything or getting stressed out.” His eyes were full of worry and I knew if I said I didn’t want to be there, he would leave no questions asked, but Sebastian worked hard and I didn’t want him to miss such an important night.

I shook my head. “I’m fine. I promise.”

His eyes slid across my expression, checking to be sure I wasn’t lying, and then he nodded. The car door opened letting in the sounds of the chaos in front of the club.

People called out Sebastian’s name, but he ignored them as he turned around and leaned down to help me out of the limo. I slid my arm in his and took a deep breath. My knees were shaking, but I knew I could do anything for Sebastian. Even be the center of attention.

“Just breathe, Roz. You’re the most beautiful woman here.”

I nodded and squeezed his arm as we walked down the carpet, bypassing a few very important people, and started to go inside the club. Cameras flashed at us, people called out questions while pushing microphones in our faces, and the entire time, Sebastian stood tall, holding me at his side until we disappeared inside of the club.

The chaos inside was easier to deal with. I was used to the loud music and lavish décor. I had worked for Sebastian in his first club, Clive’s, for a little while before he swept me off my feet.

I smiled and shook hands as Sebastian introduced me across the room, until we finally made it to the VIP section that was all ours. I slid onto the comfy seating and took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter without thinking.

“Woah,” Sebastian said, taking the class from my hand. “Get her a water,” he said to the waiter.

“Yes, thank you,” I said, correcting Sebastian’s terrible manners.

Sebastian sat beside me and pulled me into his arms. “It’s still new to you, huh?”

I nodded, sighing into his side.

It was my first time out at a club with Sebastian since I found out I was pregnant. Not that I was a heavy drinker, but I would enjoy a glass of wine or champagne on occasion.

He dropped his hand over my stomach and rubbed, smiling down at the tiny bump as if the baby was already here.

“You’ve made me the happiest man alive, you know that, right?”

“And you’ve made me the happiest woman.”

He leaned in and kissed the tip of my nose. “I’ll always do whatever it takes to make you happy.”

His lips brushed mine and I pulled him closer, but before I could deepen the kiss Sebastian’s name was said beside us.

I looked up to see one of his assistants standing there with an apology on his face. “I just need him for a tiny second.”

Sebastian stood and leaned down for another quick kiss. “We’ll continue this when I get back. Don’t leave this spot.”

I nodded and grinned.

Once he was gone, the waiter returned with my water and I sipped it alone in my little peaceful corner as I waited for Sebastian to return.

I was relaxed and comfortable, enjoying the music and the vibe of the room, but that changed when a couple almost fell into my lap with laughter. It took me a minute, but I recognized the guy as soon as he spoke. Reeves Barker. America’s hottest actor at the moment. You couldn’t go to the theater or turn the TV on without seeing his face plastered all over it.

The woman he was with stood and adjusted her dress. “I’m so sorry,” she said shyly with a small slur to her words.

I started to tell her it was no big deal, but before the words came out, Reeves turned in my direct and snorted. “Don’t apologize to her. She’s no one.”

He pulled her into his arms, and she giggled. “You, on the other hand, are with me. If anyone belongs in the VIP section it’s you.”

I stiffened at his words, but blew them off. I didn’t move because I promised Sebastian I would stay put, but the more they made out in front of me, loosing their hands in each other’s clothes, the more uncomfortable I became.

“Excuse me,” I said politely. “Could you guys maybe take the party somewhere else?”

Reeves Barker pulled his lips away from the girl and glared down at me.

“Don’t be a bitch. You leave.”

Tears rushed to my eyes at his words, and I knew it was more because of the hormones and less because his words bothered me. I stood, ready to leave and find Sebastian, but when I turned to leave, I came face to face with him. He stood, seething at the Reeves. His eyes were red, his chest moved up and down with the quickness of his breaths. I knew he was about to explode and it was the last thing I wanted at his special opening.

“What did you just say to her?” Sebastian asked, his nostrils flaring.

Chuckling with too much alcohol swimming in his veins, Reeves turned to Sebastian with a smile. “I told the bitch to leave.”

Flames engulfed Sebastian’s eyes, and I wrapped my hand around his arms to pull him away, but he stood still, unmoving.

“Did you just call my wife a bitch?”

Reeves’ shoulders stiffened. “That’s your wife?” he asked, motioning toward me like I was nothing.

Sebastian didn’t answer, but I could feel the danger flowing off of him.

“It’s fine, Sebastian. I’m fine. Let’s just move on,” I said, trying to sway him away.

He ignored me.

“I’ll ask you again.” His voice was dark and deadly. “Did you just call my pregnant wife a bitch?”

Reeves started to open his mouth, but before he could Sebastian struck.

He jumped Reeves like a street fighter, his fists flying and the sounds coming from him ungodly.

I screamed. “Stop it, Sebastian.”

But he was deaf to anything I had to say as he beat the man who was rude to me. Reeves’ face was bloody, and he was lying still before anyone came to stop Sebastian.

Two of the bodyguards pulled him off and once he was standing again his eyes connected with mine.

My body was shaking. My insides were turning and I felt like I was going to be sick. I couldn’t look at him. I understood the guy was a jerk, but what Sebastian had done was too much.

People rushed in to check on Reeves, and Sebastian wiped his knuckles on his tux and started toward me. I wanted nothing to do with him at that moment. I wanted to have a minute to myself to think. Sebastian was no longer the dangerous club owner he used to be. He was my husband and Ariel’s father.

I turned and fled before he could reach me, and I was halfway to the exit when he caught me and pulled me into a small storage room on the side of the room.

“I can’t believe you did that,” I said, tears flowing down my cheeks.

“Did what? Defend you?” He grabbed my arm, but I shook him off and pulled away.

I didn’t want his bloodied fingers touching me.

“That wasn’t defending me. That was mercilessly beating another human. He was drinking and he didn’t know who I was!”

“So that makes it okay for him to call you a bitch?” he yelled and I jerked away from him.

His eyes softened and he moved closer. “I’m sorry for yelling. I just don’t want anyone or anything upsetting you right now, Roslyn.”

“The only person upsetting me is you!” The damn broke and my tears rushed down my cheeks faster, streaking my skin with watering mascara, I was sure.

He sucked in a breath and his brows pulled down in pain. Then I was in his arms as he hugged me closely. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

I sniffled into his chest.

“It’s just …” he started before pausing and taking a deep breath. “I’m so scared.”

I pulled back at his words and looked up into his crushed expression. Sebastian black being scared wasn’t something I thought was possible.

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t do it again, Roslyn. Our two miscarriages almost killed me. If it hadn’t been for you and Mermaid needing me, I’m not sure I would have made it though. I’m scared I won’t survive a third and all I want is to be there for my girls.”

I cupped his cheek, brushing away a lone tear rushing down his cheek with my thumb.

“Sebastian.” His name whispered over my lips.

I knew the miscarriages had been hard on him, but I supposed in my own despair I hadn’t realized how much.

“This time is different,” I assured him. “I won’t make promises I don’t know if I can keep because anything is possible, but I’ve had all the genetic tests and everything has been thoroughly checked. I didn’t want to say yet, but I even know what we are having already.”

He swiped at his glistening eyes. “You do?”

I nodded, touching his cheeks softly with the pads of my finger tips in an attempt to calm his anxiety.

“Well?” he asked, wanting to know what we were having.

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“More than anything right now.”

I grinned. “Okay. Our little Mickey Mouse is healthy and happy and I need you to stop worrying so much.”

Sebastian’s face lit up, the old tears on his cheeks glistening. “It’s a boy?”

I chuckled. “It’s a boy.”

And then I was in his arms. His large body shook and felt relief nothing his tears were happy ones this time. Once he calmed, he leaned back and looked at me before moving in and kissing me sweetly.

“Now,” I said, pulling out of his arms and moving toward the door. “Why don’t we go check on Mr. Barker before you take me home. It seems our little man is really looking forward to a big bowl of mint chocolate chip tonight.”

Sebastian laughed before he joined me and kissed the tip of my nose.

“I will buy stock in mint chocolate chip if it keeps my loves happy and satisfied.”

I giggled. “I might take you up on that, Mr. Black.”

His eyes darkened and he moved in closer. “You know what it does to me when you call me that.”

“Yes, I do. Now get me home and feed me ice cream and maybe I’ll feed you something sweet too.”

Sebastian laughed and opened the door, letting in the chaos I knew would we meet.

Thankfully, Reeves Barker was fine. Sure, he needed stitches above his brow and his nose was a little broken, but once the ladies surrounded him assure him the scars would only make him even more sexy, he was fine.

He had sobered up, thanks to Sebastian’s fists, and he apologized for behaving so rudely. I accepted his apology and within two hours I was in my pajamas with a large bowl of mint chocolate chip and Sebastian’s magic hands massaging my feet.

I DIDN’T THINK Sebastian would survive the last few months of my pregnancy, but thankfully we made it though. I almost lost my mind with how protective he was. Yes, I loved him making sure my needs were met. And yes, he was perfectly sweet about making sure I didn’t over do it or lift anything or lay the wrong way, but a girl could only take so much.

By the time we were on the way to the hospital to deliver our little man, I was sure we would have to make a stop on the cardiac floor to check on Sebastian.

But it was all worth it the second we saw our little boy and his perfect little chubby cheeks. Liam Sylvester Black, named after Sylvester the cat, looked like his daddy’s little twin and had the same ability to wrap me right around his finger, but when Samantha brought Ariel to the hospital to see her little brother for the first time, even I was shocked by her reaction to him.

Her little eyes glistened with wonder as she held his tiny finger.

“He’s perfect,” she whispered, afraid to wake him.

Sebastian chuckled. “He certainly is.”

“When can we take him home?” she asked.

“Tomorrow,” I answered.

A nurse came in at that moment, a grin on her face. “And how is Mommy and little man doing?”

“Everyone is doing great.”

“Good. Well, I’m here to take little Liam to get circumcised. It shouldn’t take long and we’ll have him right back to you.”

Ariel’s eyes grew large and when the nurse reached out to take Liam from me, she reached out and smacked at the nurse’s hand.

“You’re not touching our baby, lady!” she yelled.

Sebastian and I looked at each other in shock.

“Honey, she has to take Liam and get him ready to go home. He will be okay, I promise,” I assured her.

She practically hissed at the nurse as she took Liam and put him in the hospital supplied basinet.

Once she left the room, Sebastian burst out in laughter.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

He laughed harder, wiping his laughter tears from beneath his eyes. “It’s just, it looks like I’m not the only person in the family with a protective streak.”

I swatted playfully at his chest. “It’s not funny, Sebastian. She learned that crap from you.”

He held my hand to his chest and pulled in me closer with this free hand. “I know, baby. I’m terrible. What can I do to make up for it?”

I lifted a brow. “I’ll tell you in six weeks when the doctor releases me, how about that?”

He grinned, his face lighting up with happiness. “Deal.”

About the Author

Tabatha is a New York Times & USA Today Bestselling author, best known for her sexy adult romance Little Black Book. Tabatha writes in all genres, including adult and new adult, and isn’t afraid to venture into the dark side on occasion, as she proved with her dark, prison romance, Slammer. She’s an avid reader of all things smutty and the writer of sexy stories featuring redeemable alpha bad boys and sweet, strong women.

Her other loves include her children, her loving, supportive husband, anything historical, and wind chimes. When she isn’t writing, she’s texting book ideas to herself.

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BITTER/SWEET

TAMARA LUSH

WITH A YANK, I pull the belt around the insulated plastic cupcake holder and secure it in the backseat of the taxi like it’s a chunky pink baby. I mean, it’s kind of like a baby, my baking business.

“You’ll need to buckle up as well,” comes the growly, British-accented voice in the front.

Duh, of course. I secure the belt around me.

“Also, I should tell you this ride is being filmed, for security purposes, as part of company policy. Is that an issue?”

I pause, momentarily thrown off by this question. Seems pretty reasonable to me, given all the sketchy stories about women and ride-share apps. And really, how long am I going to be in this taxi, anyway?

“I guess not, no.”

“Excellent, thank you, miss. So where to?” The driver and I momentarily lock gazes in the rear-view mirror. I think he’s a couple of years older than I am, if the voice, his sparkling eyes, and his profile are any indication.

I let out a grunt and search in my purse for the phone. I’d tried to memorize the address of my destination for this moment, but am so stupidly nervous about tonight that all thoughts have fled my mind. A few taps later, and I glance up, confused. The driver’s not on the left side of the car, where he should be.

“Miss? Over here, on the right. You’re in London, not America. We drive on the right side of the road here.”

I roll my eyes. Of course. But I’m not up for jokes, because traffic’s heavy and I’m worried I’ll be late for this end-of-summer party hosted by a top producer from the Food Channel UK. I give him the address. “I have in my notes that it’s called Camden House, but—”

“I’m familiar with Camden House.”

Jeez, this producer must live in a mansion, some well-known London estate. “Perfect, thanks. Please get me there as fast as you can without ruining these cupcakes.”

“Certainly.” He pulls away from my Airbnb and into a mass of cars. I peer out the window and gnaw at my bottom lip.

Maybe I shouldn’t have baked the cupcakes… no. They’re delicious. They’re going to be a huge hit at this party. They’ll help seal the deal for my new show.

My new show. That sounds amazing.

“You know, Miss, I can smell the chocolate from here. Fancy giving me one instead of a tip?”

I lean forward and peer at the driver, whose face is in profile. Good lord. Are all cabbies here this handsome? The guy’s jaw could slice a cake clean in two, it’s so sharp. And his accent is something out of a Tom Hiddleston-reading Shakespeare video, the kind my best friend back home sends me while I’m piping cakes.

Ugh. Why did I have to think of my bestie? I’d hoped Sophie could join me on this trip — my first outside of the U.S. — but that little annoying thing called work got in her way. For the first time since I landed, I feel painfully alone and out of my element. Exactly what I shouldn’t be feeling as I go to this potentially career-changing event.

“Sorry. Can’t give you one. I only have two dozen, and they’re for a party.”

Devil’s Food Cake with chocolate mocha buttercream, my specialty. All to surprise Horace Johnson, a network bigwig, and hopefully win my own streaming show here in London. They had invited me as a special guest, but I figured I’d take the initiative and wow them with my baked goods while pitching a new show.

Shameless? Definitely. Hokey? Probably. But I’m a cupcake maker from Maine, not a cosmopolitan London baker. Everything about my viral online popularity has been out of the ordinary.

“You look familiar,” the cabbie calls out. “I know you. You’re the cupcake chick on YouTube.”

“Yeah. That’s me, all right.” Literally. My channel is called The Cupcake Chick. My cheeks flare with heat. A random cabbie in London recognized me, probably because of all the press I’d gotten lately. A recent article in the Daily Mail was what inspired the producers to contact me.

It makes me want to squeal out loud, but something about the man’s baritone and his French cuffs grazing his big, masculine hands makes me want to act older than my twenty-three years.

Wait. Why is a cabbie wearing French cuffs? Weird. Things really are different here. Then again, back home in Portland, guys wear their good flannel shirts when they want to dress up. I haven’t ever seen a French cuff on a man outside of the pages of a fashion magazine. I also haven’t taken a proper cab since I went to Boston for a long weekend two years ago.

My phone buzzes. It’s Mom, and another pang of homesickness surges through me. I’m lonely, missing my parents and their camp on a lake in the Maine woods. It’s three days before my family’s summer bash and I should be helping her prepare the clambake and lobster boil. But I’m halfway across the world in a strange city, staying at a sterile Airbnb with a gourmet kitchen, courtesy of the network.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Honey, Tyler’s here and he wants to say hi.”

I rake in a breath and replace my homesickness with rage. “Well, Mother, people in hell want ice water. Will you give up, please? I refuse to talk with him.”

“Katy.” Mom’s voice drops to a whisper. “Tyler didn’t cheat on you. He told me the story. Drove all the way up from Portland today to bring us lobster, and we talked over some iced tea.”

Oh, Christ.

Tyler didn’t just cheat on me. One year ago this month, he screwed a woman we knew in high school while we were together. I dumped his ass and never looked back. Then I found out I was pregnant with his baby, and I got an abortion.

Let’s just say that so far, this summer is way better than last.

Mom knew about the cheating but didn’t know about the abortion. She’s still holding out hope I’ll come to my senses and get back together with Tyler. Probably because she sees his mom all the time at Junior League.

“Katy? You there?” Mom asks in a bubbly voice.

“You wasted your home brewed iced tea on that jerk? Did he tell you I walked in on him and Brittney? Did he explain how he accidentally called me by her name the last time I saw him?”

I glance up at the cabbie. The corners of his mouth turn up.

Glad you’re enjoying the show, dude. “Mom, I need to go. I’m in a cab. Whatever you do, do not give Tyler the dog. Pringle. Is. Mine. I don’t care what he says.”

“Of course not, dear. But do you want to talk with him?”

“Pringle? Or Tyler?”

My mom sighs, and I mutter something about poor reception.

I punch the Off button, slightly embarrassed at how I’d raised my voice. So undignified, in a country filled with polite, dulcet-toned accents.

“Pringle?” The cabbie’s laughing, which in turn makes me grin. Our eyes meet once again in the rear-view mirror.

“My rescue mutt. Named after my favorite potato chip.” I eye the guy’s muscular arms. Lord, he’s practically busting out of that white button-down with those arm muscles. Wait. Do they have Pringles in the U.K.? They must.

He pauses for a beat, then says, “Tyler sure sounds like a tosser.”

“A what?”

Another low chuckle. That voice of his is sexy yet maddening. Figures I’d be attracted to him. I can always pick ‘em, according to Sadie.

“Local slang. A jerk, as you said.”

“You don’t know the half of his jerkiness.” The word tosser rolls around in my mind, and I smile triumphantly. Tyler the tosser’s back in Maine, and I’m here in glamorous London, living my best life. Experiencing everything I deserve. Even if I don’t get an offer for a show, this is incredible.

I stare out the window, swooning a little from the experience. The city’s gorgeous at night, with old buildings and stately landscaping. As I’m pondering whether they’re Victorian or Edwardian — I’m such an American, don’t know my history at all — the taxi pulls to a curb.

“Why don’t you let me take you out to dinner, and you can tell me the half of it?” He twists in his seat.

I pause for a beat. The guy’s gorgeous, but a little full of himself. Still, it might be fun to have a vacation adventure with him. But no. I’m here for a purpose, one that doesn’t include shagging a guy. Do they still say shagging in London? Did they ever?

“Thanks, but no.” I shoot him a genuine smile. It’s not his fault I’m nervous and a proverbial American fish out of water here in London. Maybe in another life, I’d take him up on his offer for dinner. Bad timing, that’s all. I grab a fistful of cash, then unbuckle myself and the cupcake holder. By the time I’m finished, the cabbie’s already opening the door closest to the sidewalk.

“Allow me.” He whisks the cupcakes from the taxi, and I scramble after, probably flashing all of London in my short red dress. I stumble in the three-inch heels, and he catches my elbow while keeping a firm grip on the cupcake holder.

Even in the streetlight glow, I notice his beautiful blue eyes. And his wavy dark hair. And how he’s a head taller than me. We stare at each other, grinning like fools. There’s something about him that seems oddly familiar, or maybe it’s jetlag and an intense attraction to a sexy stranger. Gah, what am I thinking?

On the plane over here, I vowed I wouldn’t have any vacation flings, no matter how sexy these British men sound. No matter how tempting.

I hand him the cash and grab the cupcakes, shouting a thank you as I stalk toward the entrance. It’s only now that I realize this isn’t a house — for some reason, I thought Camden House was what the producer called his own home — and instead, it’s a massive event venue.

This is not a potluck party. I walk toward the door, feeling more inadequate and sillier by the second. I am bringing cupcakes to a catered party.

A security guard rushes up and opens the door, holding it open for me. “Catering?” he asks.

Oh, this is even worse than I imagined. “Uh, not exactly. I’m looking for the Food Channel party. Horace Johnson is the producer, er, organizer?”

“Absolutely, miss. Right this way.” The guard glances at my cupcake tray, and if he’s wondering why I’m toting around a bunch of baked goods, he’s got enough sense not to ask.

I troop along behind him, wondering if I could stash the cupcakes in a fridge or maybe toss them in the trash. The urge to either laugh hysterically or weep uncontrollably is strong. I’m mortified. At least I’ll be able to tell Sophie a hilarious story about being flown to London and flaming out of the most important party of my career.

We walk up a short flight of stairs, and when I see the room, I make a little strangled groan.

“Everything okay, miss?” the security guard says.

“Just fine,” I chirp.

“Horace is right over there.” The guard points in the direction of the bar. “I’d take you there myself, but I must return to the front door. My apologies.”

“No worries.” I pause, taking in the space. It’s modern, with exposed brick, pale wood floors, a soaring white ceiling with exposed beams, and giant, circular chandeliers.

The room is shaped a bit like a triangle, with the bar to my upper right and a bank of windows to my left. There are only a handful of people here, which means my concerns about being late were unfounded. I’m even beginning to wonder if I somehow arrived too early. The whole jetlag thing might be kicking my butt more than I thought.

Upbeat Euro-synth music echoes off the walls, and I hold my head high as I approach Horace. “Mr. Johnson?”

He’s a man in his sixties, with a shock of gray hair and wide, wild eyes. His animated, long face makes him look like Waldorf, the old man Muppet. Or is it Statler? I can never figure out who is who.

“Katy the Cupcake Chick,” he cries, clapping his hands together. “Please, call me Horace. What a pleasure. And I see you brought…”

“Cupcakes.” I hold up the carrier, trying to laugh away my awkwardness. “For you. And anyone else who wants one.”

“You are a doll. Come. I can’t wait to try one. I can’t say I’ve ever had a potential show host actually bring food.”

I openly wince. “I thought it was a house party.”

“Oh, my dear, you are too much. I adore you already.” He takes the carrying case from me and sweeps away. I’m left scurrying to keep up. By now, more people are flowing in, dressed in colorful, hip outfits.

The party is exactly as my agent said it would be: swanky and subdued. The catering staff finds a fancy silver platter and carefully arranges my cupcakes, and everyone oohs and ahhs over the decadent, buttery frosting. I accept a glass of champagne while Horace wolfs down my creation in one bite, then reaches for a second.

“Brilliant,” he says, dabbing a dollop of frosting from his chin. “Can’t wait for our star, Lennox, to try these. He’ll be here soon. We’d love to make you an offer. We’ve been following your YouTube channel and think you’re so unique and quirky. Like bringing these to this party. Brilliant! Who does that, brings twenty-four perfect cupcakes to a catered event?”

“Who indeed?” I mumble, gulping my champagne and reaching for another. This dolt, obviously. Still, my mood is soaring from Horace’s praise.

“I was even thinking Lennox could appear on your show, or at the very least, help you learn the ropes. He has a popular streaming program…”

That’s me. Unique and quirky. Something about Horace’s avuncular, weird demeanor calms my nerves. He blathers on about this Lennox guy for a while, and I nod eagerly. I don’t care if he’s the worst contestant on The Great British Baking Show if I get my own program. Maybe I can duck into the bathroom — rather, the loo, that’s what they call it here — and text Sophie the news.

I beam at Horace, bless his cupcake loving heart. He has crumbs on his salmon-colored jacket.

“Lennox is now doing a reality show where he pretends to be a cabbie, taking people to and from restaurants and getting the dirt on the food. It’s brilliant. He’s finishing a shoot now. Oh, look. There he is. Lennox. Come.”

Horace waves to someone and points at me. He turns to hug two women, meanwhile I’m choking on my second glass of champagne as I look across the room.

It’s the cabbie — my cabbie — sauntering toward me in an expensive-looking suit. He’s holding a glass with amber-colored liquid in one hand as he stops in front of the platter of cupcakes.

His hand hovers over the last one as I gape at him.

“May I have one now?” he asks, a cocky grin spreading on his handsome face.

I open and close my mouth a few times, then explode into a laugh, one that’s been building for a solid half-hour inside my body, since I walked into this place. “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

He grabs the last one. “I’m Lennox Mastry, by the way.”

“Katy Potter.” Our hands collide in a shake and there’s an actual spark going back and forth between our palms. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt when touching another human, which is weird.

Goodness. I had no idea the jetlag would affect me this much.

“Well, let’s see if these are as delicious as they smelt in the car.”

I watch, slightly captivated and incredibly curious. Lennox was handsome in the taxi, and in the suit, he’s downright gorgeous. I think I’ve also seen him before, but I can’t place where. Maybe when I was looking at Horace’s production company website? That must be it.

“Wow, you’re eating my cupcake in two bites,” I murmur.

He stares at me with those ocean-blue eyes and cocks an eyebrow. “Your cupcake was delicious.”

Eep.

Hearing those words come out of his perfectly shaped mouth, in that sensual accent, might make me spontaneously combust. I straighten my spine and clutch my champagne glass. I imagine his velvet-soft mouth brushing against mine. Wondering what his tongue would taste like, his lips kissing me for hours.

“SO. Was that intentional, picking me up in your taxi? A joke? Part of your show? A weird test for me on the part of Horace and the network?” I try to muster some ire, but I’m still flying high after Horace said he wanted to make me an offer. It also feels decadently giddy to be in this man’s presence.

“It was an honest mix-up. The network always puts taxi guests up at that Airbnb. There are two apartments, and I was expecting to pick up a single woman.”

“Surely you knew I wasn’t your scheduled guest when I strapped in the cupcake holder?”

He lifts a shoulder and grins bashfully. “Something told me you’d be more interesting.”

“Hope I didn’t disappoint.” To my surprise, I’m actually flirting with this guy. It feels… exciting. All of this does. Like I’ve suddenly slipped into a new life.

“Not at all.”

We grin at each other and sip our drinks. When the pause grows too long, I expect him to apologize politely and wander away, but he doesn’t. We both begin to speak at the same time.

“So you’re—” he says.

“You look—” I say.

We do that thing where we each encourage the other to speak, and he’s gracious, insisting I finish my question. I appreciate this, because the few times it happened with Tyler, he’d never let me speak first.

“You look familiar.” I tilt my head, happy for the excuse to study his sharp jawline.

“Well, I’m the host of Chow Cab. You saw me in action.”

I bite back a giggle. “Is that what your show’s called? Chow Cab?”

He leans in with a mirthful expression, as if he’s about to tell me a secret. So close I can smell his cologne, a mix of sandalwood and cognac. A fragrance with a hint of decadence and a twist of luxury.

“Wasn’t my idea. I wanted ‘Tell-All Taxi.’”

“Hmm.” I playfully put my finger to my lips. Tell-All Taxi is definitely an improvement. “No. I can’t say I’ve ever seen Chow Cab.”

“Then perhaps you know me from TikTok. I was the British Bartender.”

I gasp and point. “The guy who made the drinks in the bathtub with the six different liquors and the fruit! That’s it!”

He nods sagely.

Now I’m impressed. We spend the next half hour discussing how he turned a university hobby — getting his friends drunk with various homemade concoctions — into a viral TikTok account. We also talk about how Horace is excellent at taking social media stars and turning them into actual television hosts. Lennox is incredibly knowledgeable about the inner workings of Horace’s production company.

“You’re in expert hands here. I can’t wait to see where you go with your baking.” He tips his glass to me.

“Wait, you’re not drinking a wild cocktail. What’s in your glass?”

“Scotch. I’m pretty boring.”

He’s hot as hell, is what he is.

“I doubt you’re boring,” I counter.

“No, really. I work. My only hobby is my dog.”

Awww, he has a dog. My resolve not to flirt bursts through those floor-to-ceiling windows and soars out of London.

“Dog’s name?”

“Cadbury.”

We show each other photos of our dogs, and the way his shoulder brushes against mine sends little adrenaline-spiked fireworks showering through my body.

“See? That’s my entire life. My dog.” He shoves his cell into his pocket.

I make a pfft sound. “Come on. You must have groupies by now. Women loved your booze videos.”

Especially the shirtless ones where he mixed fresh pina coladas and showed off his muscles…

“Nah. No groupies, no girlfriend, no wife.”

I bite my lip to keep from reacting. He wants me to know this info, for some reason.

I look around the room, which is jammed with people. “Gosh, the place has really filled up.”

He nods, and I suddenly feel a pang of regret that I’ve monopolized his time. Maybe he’s hung out with me out of sheer politeness, or worse, because Horace asked him to make the awkward American feel welcome. “I guess I’ll go circulate and let you be. But thanks for all the info. It was super helpful. I owe you more cupcakes.”

I edge away, toward the bar. Better to leave him wanting more. The clink of glasses, the clatter of silverware against plates, the murmur of the guests, echo in my ears. It’s like the hum of this city is holding a steady, seductive breath just for me.

“I’LL SEE YOU AROUND.” His wide grin reveals a dimple, and my insides turn to goo. He’s almost too perfect, and I’ve got to let it go. This is work.

I grab a sparkling water from the bar and circulate. Horace introduces me to what seems like dozens of people. At every turn, I somehow catch Lennox’s eye no matter where each of us is standing. Either I look over and he’s staring at me, or I’m staring at him and he glances toward me. Each time this happens, we give each other sheepish grins. I notice he’s not joined by anyone, and nor does he pay much attention to the other women in the room.

THIS GOES on for a couple of hours, and when the party’s winding down, we come together in the middle of the room.

“Want to see something?” he asks. “A surprise?”

I pause. “Maybe. What does it involve?”

If he says his bedroom, I’m walking away. He’s been brash, funny, and polite. Interesting, informative, and sweet. Now I’m curious to know if he’s going to be pervy. Because men sometimes are at the end of an evening, and that would ruin everything.

“A walk up a few flights of stairs. We can take this.” He reaches for an unopened bottle of champagne. “Trust me, I think you’ll enjoy it. And we probably won’t be the only ones there, so don’t be worried I’m a serial killer trying to lure you to your death.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.” I stand up, feeling reassured. “But if we’re not going to be alone? Sure. Let’s go.”

Lennox makes small talk as we walk, telling me about the history of the Camden House and the neighborhood. Apparently, his family has deep roots in the area. The more he talks, the more charming he seems. But not in a skeevy or slick way. He’s funny and gentle.

Conversation grinds to a halt as we hike up a few flights of stairs. At the top, he pops open a door.

“After you.”

I’m greeted with a gust of wind as I step outside, and then I gasp in delight. “Look at this, oh my god, wow!” I rush to the railing, the wind hitting my face as all the lights in the city seem to surround us.

It’s a rooftop, with a sweeping view of London at night. The sight is heady and romantic, overwhelming, and filled with wonder. Like everything else about tonight. Two couples are at the far end of the terrace, and they ignore us.

I walk to a corner of the building and look out at the London Eye, the Ferris wheel. “Amazing,” I whisper. The railing is cold and rough beneath my palms, the city lights like tiny gems below.

“Beautiful, right?”

I can’t stop smiling as I take it all in. Out the corner of my eye, I see the two couples leave. We’re alone. Finally, I turn to him.

“So,” I say, looking into his eyes.

“So,” he repeats with a little smile.

“About that dinner, the one you offered in the taxi.”

“Yes?”

“Does the offer still stand?” I survived this weird night. Why not take another leap of faith?

He nods slowly and traces the back of my hand with his thumb. His touch sends little sparks through my body. He takes a half step toward me, and his hand runs up my bare arm. Tingles sparkle on my skin.

“Tomorrow?”

I inch toward his big, solid body. Below us, the city at night breathes and pulses. All the life, all the action, all the happiness, all the light and love, right below us. The sound is like a symphony, a song that’s been missing in my life for a while now.

“Tomorrow’s perfect.” And with that, I leap.

I brush my lips against his cheek. This is the start of something new. Something better. Something sweet.

THE END

HAUNTED HOLIDAY

TARYN QUINN

MACY

SWEAT DRIPPED down my back as I changed places with my main barista, Jodi. The line was out the door and we needed to refill the coffee thermoses along the back of the counter. We did a brisk business of just regular coffee thanks to my husband’s team of construction misfits who came in for coffee.

They got a discount because I loved Gideon and couldn’t resist his stupidly hot dimple.

And even with a discount, the boys spent a pretty penny at Brewed Awakening, my café in Crescent Cove, the crazy town I now called home. My house with John Gideon was more on the outskirts, but since our businesses were in town, we were here all the time.

All. The. Time.

If it wasn’t the Haunt—my restaurant—the café, or his construction and handyman business keeping us insanely busy, it was wrangling our kids at home. Our youngest kid was fighting potty training so that also meant I was doing enough laundry for eleven people.

I blew a jet-black curl out of my face and gave the next customer a harried growl. No one expected smiles out of me, thank God.

Lucky, the large Viking on my husband’s team, stood in front of me, his face split in a puppy-like grin. The man was always freaking happy. “Large black, Mace.”

“Got it. Will be a few. We’re brewing a new trough.”

“All good.” He dropped a ten in the tip jar and a fiver on the counter.

My eyebrows shot up. Lucky was pretty generous with the tips, but not nearly triple the cost of his discounted coffee.

He moved on by without his change. I quickly stuffed the other two bucks into the jar and found another of Gideon’s crew next in line.

“Hey Macy.” Murphy Masterson’s face went soft, and hearts practically shot out of his eyes as he glanced at his wife, Vee. “Hi, babe.”

“Fortress!” Vee hopped up on the counter enough to lean over to give her husband a smacking kiss. “What are you doing here?”

“Had to see my best girl.”

I rolled my eyes and resisted the urge to hurl. They’d been married for years and had pumped out three kids, but they still acted like they were newlyweds. Who had time for that?

To keep from growling again, I focused again on the line. The men in front of me were from Gideon’s crew, all just wanting a regular coffee.

Finally, there he was—all six-feet-two of my husband standing at the back of the line. His fall beard had filled in and I had to admit his shoulders were still stunningly delicious. And his green eyes made my stomach flip.

Probably indigestion.

Then three of my regular employees slipped behind the counter.

“What are you doing here?”

Clara, my usual part-timer, grinned and just shrugged. She disappeared into the back then returned with her black and purple uniform securely tied around her waist. She was well-seasoned and jumped right in, swapping the coffee thermoses to dump another drip coffee bag into the massive machine.

She snapped the bat-shaped timer onto the metal thermos and set it up on the back counter. Coffee was never over two hours old in my place. Shit coffee wouldn’t have my name on the cup.

Tanner and Melissa also shuffled behind the counter. They also weren’t on the schedule today.

I shook my head and took care of the next three people in line, all from the Gideon Gets It Done crew. Finally, my husband came up to the counter.

“Mace.”

“What are you up to?”

He tapped his fingers on the counter, something gleaming on his finger.

Something bat-like in nature.

I tried to snatch his hand and he quickly pulled it back. “Got a question for you, Mace.”

“I already married you.”

His lips twitched. “Different kind of question.”

“Kinda got a line here, pal.”

“And that’s why you have some extra help.”

Clara nudged me aside. “Gideon called us.”

“And it takes three people to cover you.” Gideon grinned at me. “So you can’t say no.”

I huffed out a breath and put my hands on my hips. “I can definitely say no. I have inventory and a delivery coming today.”

“Which is why I’m here.” Clara smiled brightly. “You trained me on intake last year, remember?”

I might have trained her, but she wasn’t me. And I liked to make sure all my supply was correct. Made my life easier on the back end.

Gideon cleared his throat. “Macy Gideon, will you accompany me to Salem?”

My mouth dropped open. “What?”

“You heard me. Even I could take the hint from all the pamphlets you’ve left all over the house. I know you want to go.”

“Well, duh. Salem is my heart.” I pressed my lips firm against a smile. “Next to you and our kids anyway.”

He rolled his eyes and dangled a keychain in front of me. “Get in the truck, Mace.”

I snatched the key out of his hands. “Now?”

“Now.”

“I’m going to steal this keychain.”

“I figured.”

I frowned, then slapped away Clara’s hands as she untied my apron.

She held up both hands in surrender. “Go. Have a nice vacation.”

I finished unknotting my triple bow. “What about our kids?”

Vee came forward and hugged me from the side. “Me and Fortress are going to take them. We’re going to play sleepover.”

I looked from Gideon to Vee to the rest of my employees. I really didn’t like the whole surprise thing. Last time I’d been given one of those, there had been a baby at the end of it.

Michael was a demon both in and out of the womb. No way I could easily foist him on my best friend. Not when she already had her hands full with her three.

“I don’t know.”

“Salem.” Vee squeezed me tighter. “Dani is in on it too. Your itinerary is in the truck.”

Dani, our other kid—Gideon’s kid to start but now she was mine too—was just as much of a Halloween freak as I was.

The line was starting to back up. I knew I was outnumbered at this point. And I hadn’t been to Salem since before I moved to Crescent Cove. Having two businesses and kids meant I was in a constant state of juggling. That did not include an unplanned trip out of town.

I pulled my apron over my head and gave it to Vee. “Are you sure?”

“Yes! Go. You know you want to.”

I turned around and barely caught my huge black bag and coat as Jodi dumped them in my arms. Excitement started to dent my sense of responsibility. Gideon was waiting at the side of the café, his arms crossed. He was wearing one of his plaid shirts and a Henley, a combination that never failed to make my system rev.

Damn that man. He knew it too.

September was in full swing, but it was still warm enough that I folded my coat over my arm. He held the door open and instead of his usual truck, there was a big black beast of a vintage truck waiting on the street.

“Whoa.”

“I borrowed it from Tish.”

“Do I get to drive it?”

“Yep.”

I looked down at the bat keychain. “It’s not my birthday.”

“Nope.”

“You’re not dying, are you?”

He snorted. “Not today. But you haven’t driven on an actual highway in a while, so the verdict is still out.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“We haven’t had any time alone, and I know we won’t be able to get away any time soon with the Haunt hitting its season. This is the best time. And Salem won’t be crawling with people yet so we can just enjoy it.”

I turned and threw myself at him. He caught me with a grunt and then there was nothing but the sawdust scent of my man enveloping me as I kissed him like it was date night. Being parents of a wild just-out-of-toddlerhood kid and a precocious preteen meant we didn’t have much time for any extracurriculars, save for a quickie bang in the bathroom or in the middle of the night.

I leaned back. “How long do we have?”

“Two days.”

“Two whole days?”

“Yep.”

I ran over to the truck and skimmed my fingertips over the hood. The black was flecked and sparkled in the sun. “Are we driving to Salem? That’s a long ass drive.”

“Nope. Just driving to the airport.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You know I hate to fly.”

“If we had a week, I’d drive. But I don’t think you want to spend most of the time in a truck.”

“But the airport?”

“I know a guy. He owes me a favor.”

I frowned, but I waited for him to get into the truck before I peppered him with questions. In the end, I didn’t know the dude, but he had a private plane and he was heading into Boston anyway so we were an easy side trip.

Worked for me.

The truck’s interior contained a lush red and black leather with additional flecks of black on the instruments. Very much a Tish special. She remodeled cars locally and was married to Lucky.

Crescent Cove was an incestuous maze of people who had become a weird kind of family. I’d come into this town with three cats and nearly no one in my life.

Now, I had so many friends and family, I didn’t know what to do with myself.

But I did appreciate Tish’s work and the truck drove like a dream. If I had to drive myself to the airport in nearby Syracuse, at least we’d ride in style.

“How long did it take you to put this together?”

Gideon shrugged. “Two days.”

I rolled my eyes. It would have taken me a week to get schedules down and build up the strength to ask for favors from people. He probably just texted and asked, no problem.

Jerk.

He patted my thigh. “Relax. The kids are excited to bake with Aunt Vee and Uncle Murphy. Then they’re taking them over to Happy Acres to pick apples. Wins all around.”

I actually liked to take them to Happy Acres. They had one of the best pumpkin patches in the area, but it was too early in the season for the good pumpkins anyway. We’d just go again.

“Sneak.” I came to a stop at a red light and glanced over my shoulder. A weekender bag and a thermos of my own coffee were buckled in the back.

He grinned. “Damn right.”

I supposed it was time to enjoy myself for once and see what my husband came up with.

And if he somehow fell short—basically impossible for John Gideon—we were going to the right place to rattle his chain.

GIDEON

SURPRISING my wife took a lot of planning and fortitude. Even with a few years under our belts, Macy Gideon was distrustful eighty percent of the time.

I kicked my feet out in the spacious cab of the truck and relaxed while my wife muttered and swore her way to the airport.

“Hell no.”

I snorted as she leaned forward and caught sight of the twin engine. “Nope.” She put her blinker on and tried to turn back out of the private air hanger.

“Scared?”

Her teeth clenched and that delicious jawline of hers firmed. I planned on nibbling along that sharp chin of hers, but it would take some distraction. And maybe a bit of Jack Daniels I had stashed in my bag.

I had a few ulterior motives for the trip. First one was a relaxing few days with Macy. Second was an idea I’d had thanks to a smartass remark from the head of my guys. Lucky had proven himself to be very resourceful and settled now that he’d found love and a baby.

We’d been shooting the shit on a job and he’d mentioned how there was a large house available on the lake near them. Perfect for a bed and breakfast.

He’d tried to convince his wife to buy it but she still had PTSD from their renovations and told him where he could shove the idea. I definitely shouldn’t have taken a drive by the house.

Because as soon as I saw it, I knew it was for Macy.

Not to move—we loved our place. But the Gothic flavor of the house and the porch with the lacy Victorian trim pretty much shouted spooky B&B.

I was pretty sure my wife had infected me with her love of all things horror and Gothic. And because I knew her better than anyone on this crazy rock, I knew she needed a new project.

The Haunt was running itself, especially with the new chef she’d hired. She kept her hand in with managing things, but it didn’t require much from her on the day to day. She’d finally found a manager who was as badass as she was.

The kids were more self-sufficient every day and Michael was getting ready for school soon. Which was horrifying and amazing all at the same time.

I had a feeling our daughter would enjoy the project just as much. Dani was becoming more and more like her stepmother. With their mutual love for all things horror, it was tailor-made for them.

I just had to convince Macy of that. And the place I was taking her to would do the trick.

Bonus points, I’d get my ballbuster wife all to myself for two days. With plenty of time to hopefully get her naked.

I resisted the urge to smirk when she put the truck into park near the hangar. I should feel guilty for manipulating her, but Macy would rather gnaw off her own hand than say she was afraid of something.

“It’s a short flight.”

“Shut up,” she said as she slipped out of the truck and slammed the door.

I buried a laugh down deep in my chest where she wouldn’t kick my ass for it and followed her out. She stalked to the plane, leaving me to get the bags. By the time I caught up with her, she was standing outside the door, her hands on her hips.

“Do we have to jump-start it?”

“What? Why?” I hefted our 2 bags into the small compartment under the plane.

“Because it looks like a toy.”

“It’s not a toy. You should see my Cessna 172. Now that’s a toy.”

“Thanks for the assist, Calder.” I grinned at the guy just about my height and shook his hand. Because he was an asshole, he was wearing the Maverick aviator sunglasses and the same shit-eating grin as Tom Cruise’s character.

I was pretty sure it was the sole reason he’d learned how to fly.

Calder chewed gum as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his cargo shorts, his grin never wavering. He was as tanned as if he’d spent the last four months on a beach. I wouldn’t be shocked if he had.

“These come smaller?” Macy shuddered.

“So I guess a helicopter ride is a no?”

“Absolutely not.”

I looped an arm around Macy’s shoulders. “Calder, meet my wife, Macy.”

“Pleasure. I’ve heard all about you.”

“Can’t say the same.”

Calder rocked back on his heels. “Guess you weren’t kidding on the ballbuster part.”

Macy socked me in the middle.

I shrugged as I brushed a kiss along her forehead. “She keeps it interesting.”

Calder pulled down the steps. “Well then. I’m all for no small talk. Salem awaits.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” She gripped the thin rail and hauled herself up the three stairs inside.

Calder slapped my back. “I like her already.”

“Thanks for taking us along.”

“No problem. We’ll be there before you know it.”

He was true to his word and less than an hour later, we were landing in a small air strip in Beverly, Massachusetts. I was pretty sure my wife set a land-speed record for sprinting out of the plane and hopping out onto the tarmac.

She squatted down, kissed her fingers and touched the blacktop. “I’ll never leave you again.”

I rolled my eyes as I hopped down and got our bags out of the hold. Calder waved to us and pulled the stairs back up. “I’ll see you guys on Sunday at three o’clock.”

“Sure you don’t want us to go into Boston to meet you?”

“Nah. I have another delivery here that afternoon anyway. You two crazy kids have fun.” He slammed the door shut and the engine started up again a minute later.

Macy backed up into my chest. I slid an arm around her waist. “Wasn’t so bad.”

“Says you.”

I nuzzled along her nape, breathing in her familiar coffee and spice scent. “We gained five hours of driving and we’ll be in the bed and breakfast in less than half an hour.”

“With what car, hotshot?”

“That one.” I pointed to the Jag near the office to the left of the hangar.

“How the hell did you manage that?” She twirled in my arms then narrowed her eyes at me. “Just how many favors do you have out there in the world?”

I laughed. “The car was all Calder. He’s got a buddy who restores cars in Boston and is letting us borrow it.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“For a fee.”

“That makes more sense.” She hustled to the car. “I’m driving.”

“Of course you are.”

Amused at the light in her eyes as she wrapped her fingers around the saddle-colored steering wheel, I settled into the passenger side. It was a warm day in September and the air was sliding into crisp. The top was down and my wife was in her element as she zigged and zagged her way through traffic.

I plugged the address into my phone. The streets grew tighter the closer we got into Salem proper. The B&B was on the edges of the waterfront district and we could walk around Salem without worrying about parking. I wanted to make sure she got the full witchy effect, save for the actual October flavor.

Macy wasn’t one for wall-to-wall people, even if Halloween was involved. I probably should have driven no matter what she said, since her head was on a damn swivel the moment we reached Derby Street.

Signs for The Witch House and the Hawthorne Hotel had her sitting up taller in her seat.

“We’ll see it all.”

“I know.” She sat back, a little more relaxed. “I’m not sure how you always know what I need.”

“Not always, but I knew the plane—”

“Death trap.”

I snorted. “The plane ride would be worth it to see your face.”

“I’ve been to Salem. Once.”

“Just once?”

She shrugged. “Bit of a trek from where we live. But when I first came to this coast, I definitely needed to see the Halloween mecca. I didn’t have much time to spend though and it’s been years.”

“We can do whatever you want tomorrow.”

“Not today?”

“Today, you’ll be distracted.”

“I’ve seen what’s behind that zipper, pal. And I love it dearly—and you.”

“Naturally.” I swallowed a snicker.

“But I’ve seen it.”

“Your husband might have some new tricks too, you know.”

She gave me a dubious look and wisely remained silent.

The GPS advised her to take a left and the old house came into view. “You haven’t seen that before, Mace.”

Her foot slid off the gas and she slowly rolled down the dead-end street. “Holy shit.”

The stunning Victorian with gingerbread lace detail was hard to ignore. The house had been painted a dark purple with black trim that shone like enamel. The proprietress had gone all out with the spooky vibe. Each window had its own distinct effect—one dripping with something akin to slime, one with webs, skeletons, and bats, and finally the attic window was frosted with a human-like form acting as a shadow.

I frowned as it moved.

Damn good projector. At least I hoped it was or it would be an interesting night with my bride.

I patted her thigh. “You might want to look around the Cape Ann House.”

Her head whirled to face me. “Like the history of Salem Cape Ann?”

I nodded. “The owner is a descendent from the original families who founded Salem before it became all witches all the time. Back when it was more known as a seafaring town.”

She leaned across the front seat and kissed me soundly. “You are so getting laid.”

“Damn right.”

She parked and got out of the car like a shot, heading for the walkway. I put up the top, grabbed our bags, and locked the car, following her at a more sedate pace.

Part of me wished Dani was here to geek out about it all with Macy, but when she threw a wolfish grin over her shoulder, I knew I’d made the right move. Anything and everything Halloween got my wife revved.

She bounded around the grounds where one of those dinosaur-sized skeletons was hiding in the trees. She raced for it and spun around to face me, her arms and legs wide.

“Crazy!”

I dropped our bags and took my phone out to snap a quick photo of her so unguarded and happy. When she noticed me, she struck a few poses before wandering away into what looked like a cemetery.

“Mr. Gideon?”

I turned at the voice and flushed. “Hello. Sorry about that. My wife got really excited before I could corral her inside. You must be Jeanie Endicott.” I hustled around the path to the walkway.

She waved me off, her black skirts swirling around her ankles as she met me halfway. “Don’t even worry. Most first-timers have a similar reaction. I’m just glad people want to come and stay with us.”

“Good thing we have children and businesses at home, or I might not be able to get her to leave.”

“Best compliment ever.” She held out her hand. “Nice to meet you in person. We have the honeymoon suite booked for you. I also don’t have people coming in until tomorrow, so if she wants to look around inside, she certainly can.”

“Really? That would be amazing. I have a few ideas for a spooky project coming up in our town. My wife is addicted to all things Halloween and horror. She owns the Haunt in Crescent Cove.”

“Oh!” Jeanie snapped her fingers. “I thought your names sounded familiar. My girlfriend and I went to visit last year. It’s an amazing place.”

“Wow. Small world.”

She grinned and little crow’s feet fanned at the corners of her eyes. “The horror world is very incestuous. Especially when you find one that’s done right.”

“She’ll be thrilled to hear it.”

The familiar long-legged stride crunched through the leaves and I reached behind me. Her slim fingers found mine, lacing in that comfortable way we had. “Macy Gideon, meet Jeanie Endicott.”

“Your place is amazing.” Mace shook Jeanie’s hand quickly before leaning against my side. “I could stay in your cemetery for days.”

“Good company in there.”

Macy’s eyes sparkled. “Indeed.”

Jeanie nodded toward the house. “Why don’t I show you around?”

“I’d love that.” Not even Macy’s grumpy side could dent her happiness with a goth and Salem-themed house at her fingertips.

I followed the two women as Jeanie gave a brief and entertaining background on the original start to Salem and her great-great-great-million times-great-grandfather.

The house was spectacular. Every inch was decorated with Halloween and Gothic-flavored photos from her past. Jeanie leaned into her family history and added her own flair with her love of history and Victorian-Gothic style.

She informed us that she upped her horror game starting in August until Thanksgiving. Sounded like my wife’s kind of deal. I let them chitchat about the horror movies they loved and some even Mace hadn’t heard of.

While they jabbered away about their mutual love of all things creepy, I took in the hearth and made mental notes about how the room was set up, things I liked, and things Macy was specifically taken with. Somehow I resisted the urge to pull out my phone to take some video.

That would tip my hand far too soon.

Then we were shown our way upstairs. The banisters included carved spindles with a fun black cat that kept showing up in details throughout the house.

That was definitely something Macy would want replicated with a twist. Because of course we needed to include her beloved bats and pumpkins in the bed and breakfast I was going to convince her to buy.

After I got her naked, that was.

MACY

MY BRAIN WAS LIT up with all the decorations. Things that I could use in our own home, as well as the Haunt. A tiny piece of me wondered what it would be like to have a place like this.

Minus the hospitality.

Or could we market it to include my rather acerbic tone. Make it a thing so I didn’t have to suffer through small talk. There truly was nothing worse than mindless chitchat as far as I was concerned.

Did I need another project? No.

Did I even want another project? Not really. Okay, maybe a little part of me did.

My staff was almost too well-trained at this point.

Gideon kept glancing at me as we walked down the hall to our room. His smile had that smirky quality to it that made me want to slap him as much as I wanted to jump him. He knew me far too well. Normally that was a bonus checkmark in the marriage column, but right now…

I smelled shenanigans.

It was a staple cologne in Crescent Cove and it seemed to have found its way into our little getaway. I waited patiently for Jeanie to tell me all about the room. I truly did want to know. The house had been built to stand on the edges of the touristy part of Salem.

She liked it that way—the best of both worlds.

The themes that made her so happy fit right into the vibe of Salem’s more eccentric parts. One of the reasons I was so fascinated with the town that included as much pain in its history as wonder.

“I chose this room based on your very delicious husband.” Jeanie stopped at the door, showing off an ornate skeleton key. “We run a safe establishment, but there are strangers about so we use sturdy locks. It might look like a key from the eighteen-hundreds, but the lock is very modern.”

“We appreciate that.” Gideon tucked our overnighter more tightly against his back. “Cape Ann House is beautiful.”

Jeanie pinked up. “I’m so glad you’re enjoying it already. Mandy, my partner, will be serving dinner at eight, but we also wrap it up for reheating if you find yourselves busy with other things.” She pushed open the door. “I’ll let you two get freshened up.”

She held up the key and thankfully Gideon took it because my jaw was currently located somewhere on the black and red brocade rug. The hardwood floors were a deep brown and the trim was all done in an inky black to frame out the crimson wallpaper on three walls. The last one was all river rock with a jet black hearth that drew me inside.

Spooky photos were on the mantle with a few horror bits that made me smile—a freaky doll that I was tempted to shove in the closet, a voodoo doll that looked too real, and also a massive raven with its wings fully extended. Above the fireplace was an old ink drawing of Salem.

Gideon slipped behind me, curling his big hands along my hips. “Did I pick the right room?”

I leaned back against him. “You know you did.”

He dragged his lips along the length of my neck and I shamelessly gave him a little extra room. When the soft bristles of his beard got in on the action, I shivered.

“How long do we have until dinner?”

He did that swirly thing with his tongue that made my toes curl. “That’s what microwaves are for.”

I reached behind me to sift my fingers through his hair. It was a little on the long side right now and I loved gripping it. Not that we’d had a lot of gripping time lately.

Unless dragging at jeans in darkened hallways counted. I was pretty sure that was the last time I’d gotten some action and that was at least a week ago, dammit.

A tall man was a miracle for a leggy woman such as myself. We lined up so perfectly.

He hooked an arm around my middle, grinding against my ass. “Watching you get so excited always gets me riled up. Even if you’re excited over spook town.”

“Perv.”

He scraped his teeth down my neck to the sensitive spot he knew just how to manipulate. People looking for a hot new weekend every weekend were stupid. Having a man know your body was sexier than any hot one-night stand.

It had taken me a long time to understand that. But John Gideon was a master at figuring out all my quirks, skin to skin or horror kinks. And lookie-lookie it was all balled up together in one room. My man and my favorite kind of vacation.

I swayed, enjoying the way we moved together. Even how we felt against each other. The firm, muscular thighs hugging my own, the very happy cock behind his zipper, his arms that were made for me, and his sawdust scent that was my personal shot of pheromones.

His fingertips teased along the bottom of my T-shirt. The idea we could actually take the time to do the whole seduction scene made heat pool in my belly. Even our first time had been a hurried race to the finish in my unfinished restaurant. I had very fond memories of the bar he’d carved for me.

And now here we were in Salem.

We didn’t have to rush.

We were allowed to just enjoy each other without worrying about a kid busting in the room, an employee calling, or one hundred other fires springing up that we always had to put out.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket.

“Am I boring you?” He nipped my neck harder.

“Definitely not. I was just thinking we actually had time for some ambiance.” I opened up my music app and put on one of my aspirational playlists. The ones I always hoped to enjoy, but usually I fell asleep before getting to use them with my man.

I hit play and boosted the volume before I tossed it on the bench at the end of the bed, then I turned in his arms. I slid my knee between his legs and we slowly swayed.

“My wife has a romantic streak?”

“I know it’s off-brand.”

His hands slid down and he tucked two fingers in each of my ass pockets. “I like it.”

I wound my arms around his neck. “Yeah? Me too.” I tipped my chin up to meet his eyes, the familiar green steady and warm. A few more crinkles at the corners these days showed how much he laughed.

Maybe I had even added a few to the pile.

“We needed this,” I whispered as I rested my cheek against his chest.

One of his hands slid up my back to tease the short and choppy hair that fell just below my ears. “No truer words have been spoken today.”

I grinned into his soft T-shirt as we slowly rotated in a prom-like box step. Slow touches accompanied by equally slow bluesy guitar strings and raspy vocals were exactly the right tone. A brush of fingertips behind the shell of my ear, long and unhurried kisses laced with a hint of salt from the top-down drive, and the hint of a crisp fall breeze coming in from the open window created the perfect moment.

I wasn’t a fanciful woman, but I took the time to file this away.

Then the easy touches firmed and the kisses grew more desperate. Banked passion was never far away when we got close. Even years later, two insane kids between us, and all the stressors of our lives, there was always this spark between us.

He gripped my ass and lifted me. My legs immediately wrapped around his waist as I gasped at the ridge of his cock digging into the seam of my jeans. Those green eyes went from tender to fierce and the sweetness burned away like caramel under a flame.

Rougher bites between groans ramped up my own lazy haze of pleasure until I followed him into the wild. I scraped my teeth over his bearded chin to the rougher buzz of his neck where the whiskers were short and slicing.

It felt good on my tongue, abrasive and just a nip of pain to get me closer. I rubbed against him like a cat and he growled my name as he shuffled us to the bed. The beautiful big bed that had too many fucking pillows on it.

I pushed at them to give us room as he drove me up to the head board, both of us fumbling with buttons.

He ripped my shirt up and his hot mouth covered my breast through my thin bra. I could barely get it over my head before he was flicking the clasp open. His hot tongue circled my nipple as he stared up at me before rolling the tip in between his teeth to tug.

I arched up, blind with the ratcheting need. I opened my eyes to a webwork of lace above us on the four-poster bed. It hazed under the onslaught of pleasure when he shoved his hand under my panties and drove into me.

The kick of orgasm surprised me. I didn’t realize I was so close, but as always Gideon knew my body. Knew what I needed before I did most of the time. I rode the quick and dirty burn of release and tried to swallow down the scream building in my throat.

I turned my face into my arm.

He nipped at my throat. “Don’t have to be quiet here.”

A groan trapped itself in a bubble of laughter as he circled my clit faster and pushed me past one orgasm into the peak of another.

“Don’t be stingy. I plan on teasing at least a half dozen out of you before dinner.”

My throaty laugh tripped into a shivering growl. “Death by orgasms in Salem sounds like the best way to start our trip.”

He leaned back enough to drag my jeans off me, tossing them over his shoulder. I reached for his and he shook his head, inching his way down between my thighs. “I’ve only got two in the bank.”

I tried to roll up and he flattened his palm along my middle, planting me back on the mattress. “I’m getting the feeling you like pinning me down, pal.”

He grinned at me from between my legs. “I’m game.”

“Of course you are.”

“Bet you’d like it.” He lifted his hips and slid his belt from his jeans. “Care to try it?”

My heart raced in my chest. “Fat chance.”

He crawled back up, resting his denim-clad cock against my center with a little friction.

I hissed, still sensitive from the last round of his clever fingers.

“Give me your wrists, Mace.”

“Yeah, right.”

He arched a brow. “Scared?”

“No.”

“Trust me?”

“Always.” The word came out easier than I expected. It was unwritten between us. I would never have given my heart to him if I didn’t trust him.

He pulled my hand up to his mouth and kissed my wrist. “How about a safe word?”

“What? Like some book?”

“What have you been reading with Rylee?”

I shrugged. “She likes dirty books. Sometimes they’re fun.”

“Then what’s the word?”

My heart thudded between my ears and much lower. I licked my lips and squirmed as he changed the light kisses to scrapes of his teeth. “Espresso.”

“Typical.”

I laughed, but it quickly slid away. The music from my playlist had changed to a bass-heavy song from one of the movie soundtracks I loved. The cut of the wind from the window made me shiver as he circled my wrists with the warm leather and tightened them together. He crawled up over me and wrapped the tail around the ornate wrought iron headboard.

“Too tight?”

I shook my head.

His hot eyes scanned over my arms and lifted breasts. He dragged his nose along the underside of my arm, nipping at the flesh lightly before coasting down to my breasts. “Guess we’re doing a lot of new things in Salem.”

He took his time exploring my breasts, the slope of my ribs, the line where thigh met my pelvis. He traced the tiny bat tattoo I’d gotten after Michael was born along with the larger bat. Something sacred and secret for us.

And then he slipped over to my pussy, covering it before burrowing his tongue deep inside. I dug my heels into the mattress as I shamelessly rode his face. And he followed every dip and twist, his fingers digging into my ass as he fought with me. Both of us always vying for control.

The straps around my wrists made me fight harder, trying to own the moment, but he wouldn’t let me. It was ours and he was always so fucking patient. Even when I wasn’t ready to face it, he waited me out.

He’d always waited me out—from the very start.

He stroked my thigh, bringing it over his shoulder as he slowly and methodically drove me insane. I let myself drift as night rolled through the room. Flameless candles flickered on beside the bed, throwing a golden sheen along Gideon’s shoulders.

He propped himself up on his elbows and nibbled his way along my twitching thighs. I tugged at my restraints as he rose onto his knees and peeled his jeans open.

Grabbing my ankle, he placed my foot against his chest. “So impatient.”

“You’ve been teasing me forever.”

He drew his fingers down the curve of my calf. “I like driving you crazy.”

“Obviously.”

He drew my leg around him, grunting as I hooked my knee tighter around him to draw him closer. “Why are you in such a rush?”

“Because I’m empty. You should fill me up.”

His jaw flexed. “Oh, I’ll fill you up.” He dropped his hand to my pussy, his thumb lazily circling my clit. Nothing that would get me anywhere but down frustration boulevard. “Until you can’t take anymore.”

“Get on with it,” I said through gritted teeth.

He took himself in hand. The length and girth of him always left me a little breathless. So very well-proportioned to the rest of him.

Lucky, lucky me.

I dug my heel into his ass, dragging him forward. “Unless you’re going to straddle my face, you better get that cock inside me.”

His eyes went almost black.

I grinned at him. happy to have a little of the control back. “Want to feed me that cock?”

“Fuck, Macy.”

“Well, that’s an option too.” I lifted my hips, rolling them as much as I could with the limited mobility I had. Damn this freaking belt.

He dragged his jeans down and swore as he fumbled to get them free of his boots.

I laughed as he struggled and rolled off the bed to get them off. I was treated to his bare ass. Unfortunately I didn’t have the ability to give it a little smack.

“You won’t be laughing for long.”

“Promises, Promises.”

He crawled back on the bed and widened my legs. “This is what you want?” He dragged the head of his cock through my soaking wet pussy.

I licked my lips against the sudden dryness of my mouth. The harsh lines of his brow in the near dark ramped up the bite of his growly tone. “Yes.”

He gripped the backs of my thighs and pressed my knees up closer to my body, splaying me wide.

I arched up, but there wasn’t too far that I could go with the tightening of the leather as I’d struggled. I wanted to see him slide into me, but I could only feel.

A drip of sweat slid down his nose and hit my knee as he leaned forward to fucking skewer me to the bed. I closed my eyes as every inch of him widened me, filled me, obliterated any bit of space between us.

“Open your eyes, Mace.”

I dragged them open and met his green eyes. There was very little green left. Just the blackness of his lust and love opened wide for me as my body was for him.

His hips drove against me, his cock leaving no part of me untouched. I took each stroke and accepted it, gave back the clasp of my body to match him in every way. The flickering light cut along all the muscles of his body.

My eyes worshiped him as my fingers couldn’t right now, his name a prayer wrapped in curses as he drove me up and left me hanging. Only to start all over until I was a mindless mess.

I gripped the headboard as we fucked and loved in the wildness we hadn’t been able to find in the craziness of our lives. As we connected here in the trust of our bodies and an unexpected safe haven away from home.

Finally he crashed over me and undid the buckle to let me free. I rolled him over and splayed my hands on his chest as I rode him hard. Finding that bit of friction he’d been denying me.

He roared up and gripped my hair as we clashed together in the center of the black and red bed. Arms wrapped around each other as we shuddered through our releases. So tight there was only sweat and skin to keep us from flying apart.

I raked my fingers through his hair to keep his face in my neck as we caught our breaths. As the shaking subsided and we finally crashed back to the bed, still wrapped together.

I pressed my cheek to the top of his head as I sucked in air. “God, I love you.”

He smiled against my neck. “Fucking goddamn right you do.” Then he caged me against the bed. “Wanna do it again?”

I laughed. “Only if you get belted to the headboard.”

“Deal.”

“Now we’re talking.”

GIDEON

MY WIFE HAD TRIED to kill me the night before.

What a way to go, but she’d kept me up until well past midnight, which was definitely well past our bedtime. With a pre-k kid in our house and our respective early jobs—midnight was like three in the morning.

Especially since Mace was definitely used to no sleep.

She dragged me downstairs for food and coffee and practically sprinted for the door to look around Salem for the day.

It was a rare deal to see her childlike wonder on display, but at our first stop she was like a kid let go in a candy store—AKA a crystal and bookstore named Pyramid Books

She surprised me by getting a fifteen-minute tarot reading. And in her usual Macy fashion she kept the details close to the vest. I didn’t mind though. I was keeping a secret of my own.

She was thoughtful as we plowed our way through the bookcases and then the displays of crystals.

“Think Ry would like these?” She turned around with a pair of pink earrings. “They supposedly chill you out. She needs it since Raceboy knocked her up again.”

I shook my head. “You know they’ve been trying for a while, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. Her hormones are wilding. How many different crystals can I load her down with, you think?”

I laughed and handed her a basket. “I didn’t think you believed in that.”

“C’mon, babe. I love Halloween. Of course I believe a little.” She snaked a smooth black rock out of a bin and added it to her growing pile.

“Truth.” I tipped my head. “What’s the black one for?”

“Bad vibes, protection, cleansing—that kind of deal.”

I pulled my keys out of my pocket and noticed the smooth jet-colored stone on my keyring she’d given me after we’d had Michael.

My wife was always surprising me. Rather than call her out on it, I slipped my keys back in my pocket without a word.

After we checked out with a hefty bag of crystals and a cat tarot deck, we wandered over near the water and found a touristy shop full of postcards, children’s stuff, and T-shirts galore.

For someone who acted so tough, Mace was careful to get something for everyone at the café, our kids, and a few of the people who had become important to her over the years.

I swapped the smaller bag during checkout for the largest canvas bag they had. I had a feeling it would be a day where I was lugging a lot of purchases.

By the time we got to the heart of Salem, my feet were crying and I begged for some food. We landed in a diner-like place that served breakfast all day across from the small fire station.

The Halloween decorations had already been tacked up on every spare surface, adding to the kitschy and unique flavor of the town. Salem now embraced their heritage, where once they had vilified it.

After we ate our weight in hashbrowns and omelets, we fueled up with coffee and took a trip through the cemetery. A gnarled tree with more branches than I thought was possible was chained off.

Macy made a beeline for it, touching the headstones and tracing the names with a reverence I wasn’t expecting. I dropped next to one of the headstones and set my bags down, careful not to lean on any of the fragile spaces.

The sun was high in the sky, but the trees kept the area cool. We were slightly off-season, so no tours were going on, but she seemed to be happy just flitting from one tree to the next. I let her go, just happy to see her so relaxed and entranced with the history of the place.

She spun around and spotted me, finally aware that she had wandered off without me. The wind blew her dark hair around her cheeks. She’d left the natural curls wild and had lined her startling eyes with some sort of dark smudgy stuff that always made her look a bit otherworldly. As usual, she was in head-to-toe black with her dark denim shirt tied around her waist against the warm day.

Her wide smile punched me in the gut, and I knew now, more than ever, that this place we’d do together was the best idea I’d had since I’d convinced her to wear my ring.

I waggled a bottle of water at her, and she used those distractible long legs to cross the cemetery in a flash.

Instead of dropping next to me, she climbed on top of me, straddling me in the grass.

“This place is amazing.” She took a swig of the water and tossed it next to us before wrapping her arms around me.

I couldn’t stop the groan as she sifted her fingers through my hair. Her witchy hazel eyes glowed with intent. Dipping her head, she caught my lower lip in her teeth. “Making out in a cemetery has always been on my list.”

“Is it now?” I licked the sharp bow of the top of her mouth. “The cops around here are no joke about loitering—especially naked.”

She arched her eyebrow. “Scared?”

I grinned against her mouth. “Remember that hayride?”

She tipped her head back with a throaty laugh. “I do.”

I leaned forward and nibbled her neck, paying special attention to where her pulse fluttered. My hands slid down to grip her ass, settling her tighter against my cock. “Gonna protect me from all the ghosts in here?”

She straightened again, brushing her breasts against my chest. “The ghosties are more interested in what happens after dark.”

“Then I guess we just have to make out here in the sunshine.”

She crossed her wrists behind my head and lowered her mouth to mine. “I mean we gotta.”

“For the sake of your bucket list.”

The laughter quickly dissipated to wilder brushes of lips and teeth until we were both more than a little hot and bothered.

She groaned against my ear. “If only I was a skirt kind of girl.”

I was the one who tipped my head back with a laugh this time.

“Now I’m going to have to wear a skirt for you, pal.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

“I bet Rylee has something.” She snickered at the look on my face. “Bet it would be extra short on me since I’ve got a good six inches on her.”

I twisted my fingers into her belt loops. “Deal.” I ground her against me again for good measure as I noticed someone walking through the cemetery at a good clip. “Think we’ve got company.”

“Dammit.” She slid off me, dragging her fingertips down my zipper once with a feral smile before standing.

Quickly, we gathered our stuff and took off through the back of the cemetery to the side street. We giggled like kids as her stride lengthened, her attention on the cobblestoned main street. I was left with the bags, but I was used to lugging far more weight and caught up to her when she got waylaid by a pop-up tent full of bats.

Another trio of scented bats was added to my already bulging bag. I was beginning to wish we’d actually taken the car with us, damn the parking restrictions.

More shopping and another refuel of coffee from a café located in the heart of Essex Street helped me marshal my forces to get to the Witch History Museum. Macy was far too keyed up to sit through one of the tours, but she was happy to wander in the small gift shop. I made sure to steer her toward one of the larger display cases.

When I’d been researching for the B&B, I’d found their site and noticed the more Gothic statuaries they had. My wife was in full-on browse mode, but she stopped dead in front of the case just like I knew she would. The gargoyles with crystal eyes were too much for her to resist.

She picked one up carefully, the gleam in her eyes providing me with the perfect in.

“You know, I was thinking.”

“Hmm?” She was barely paying attention to me. She just kept moving the gargoyles together on the counter in her way. I’d been around her enough through the planning of the Haunt and her café to know she was trying to find a way to use them.

“I found this house out near Tish and Lucky. It’s right on the lake with a wraparound porch. It kinda reminds me of the place we’re staying at.”

Her hand paused in the rearranging. “We have a house.”

“We do. But maybe this would be a good rental place. Or…”

“I knew it.” She took a careful step away from the bookcase before whirling on me. “I knew you were up to something.”

I grinned down at her, but I didn’t say anything.

“This trip. That Cape Ann House with all my catnip.” She dug her finger into my chest to punctuate each word.

“I know my woman.”

“Dude. Don’t start with that.”

I wrapped my hand around her finger and pulled her wrist up to my lips. “You aren’t happy without a project. The Haunt runs better than ever since you found the new manager. And Decker finally passed all your tests in the kitchen.”

She wrinkled her nose at me. “The food is just as important as the ambiance.”

“I know. But the restaurant runs itself, save for a few crazy days during the season. It would take a while to get the house up to code and decorated, but you’d have most of a year to get it done before the season hits. Once the bed and breakfast is finalized, you’ll have year-round people.”

“What about Sage? She’ll kill us for making competition.”

“Crescent Cove is big enough for the both of you. And she’s definitely got a different vibe from you, babe.”

She rolled her eyes. “Obviously.” Then suddenly she narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t buy it already, did you?”

“No. I just had the idea.”

I’d learned my lesson after buying our house not to do anything without her. Part of my proposal had included the house and a field full of jack o’lanterns. I knew she loved the house that had become ours, just like I knew she’d love the Victorian I’d found, but it needed to be a joint project in every way.

Her eyes were still narrowed as I leaned down to kiss her. “It’s just an idea. You can think it over.”

She cupped my face. “No. I totally want to see the place.”

I knew her better than anyone, but I wouldn’t gloat. I just laced my fingers behind her back. “So I should definitely have them wrap up those gargoyles?”

“Pretty much the whole bookcase.”

I laughed.

She squished my cheeks. “You had this whole thing planned?”

“Maybe.” My voice was a bit strangled from her grip.

She went onto her toes. “I hate that you know me so well.”

I pursed my lips since she had almost pulled me to her mouth anyway.

She laughed and gave me a smacking kiss. “I don’t deserve you, John Gideon.”

“More like the other way around, but I’m keeping you. Even when you get grouchy mid-project, because I know you will.”

“Hey, you’re the one who had this idea.”

“And I’ll remind myself at that when you start chucking things at my head.”

“I do not.” At my raised brow, she sneered at me. “It was only that one time.”

“I still have the scar.” I touched my chin.

“Liar. It was a love tap.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

She wrapped her arms around me. “I don’t know how you know just what I need when I need it.”

“I always will, Mace.”

“Even when I’m not as good at the same?”

“You have other talents.”

She snorted and pushed me away. “I’m going to go talk to the shop person staring at us nervously.”

I let her go and gathered the bags around my feet.

She turned back to me with those witchy eyes sparkling. “I’ll definitely be rewarding you later.”

“And I’ll be looking forward to it.”

Nothing was ever boring being married to this woman. Now I just needed to convince her we should do one more project together.

But I’d wait for my moment for that one too.

Thanks so much for reading! If you’d like to read more about Macy and Gideon or the other people of our crazy small town of CRESCENT COVE.

About the Authors

USA Today bestselling author, Taryn Quinn, is the sexy and funny alter ego of bestselling authors Taryn Elliott & Cari Quinn. We’ve been writing together for years, but we have found a love of small town romance that doesn’t quite fit with our crazy rockers and romantic suspense. And so…Taryn Quinn was born!

tarynquinn.com

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SIMPLE SMILE

AN ASSASSINS IN LOVE SHORT

TAWNA FENSKE

SEBASTIAN

“STOP STARING OUT THE WINDOW, Minty Fresh.”

Sebastian LaDouceur turns and trips on his tongue when he sees Nicole Bello in lingerie.

Wait.

It’s Nicole Bello-LaDouceur now.

Also, that might not be lingerie.

“Have I mentioned you’re insanely hot in a sports bra?” He slides a palm along the bare bumps of her ribs and pulls her close. “Makes me sweaty.”

“Hands off.” Nic pretends to push him back but grabs his butt instead. “Oh, very nice.”

“You can grope me,” Seb says as he nuzzles her neck, “but I can’t grope you?”

“Pretty sure I put that in the wedding vows.” She squeezes both cheeks. “An ass like this requires its own clause.”

He’ll take her claws on his ass anytime. “I do have a great butt.”

“Modest, too.” She steals one more squeeze and steps back to check her watch. “Later for that. Renee and Matteo and Dante will be here any second with the kids.”

“Not Jen?”

“Jen’s meeting Tara and the girls for lunch first.” All part of the plan for making this look natural. “They’ll get here in an hour or so, remember?”

“I got distracted.” The distraction looks great in pink Lycra. “Where’d you get those shorts?”

“They’re hiking shorts.” She flashes the world’s loveliest leg, propping one foot on their living room ottoman. “New hiking boots, too. Found them at the thrift store on Pine Street.” Nic drops her foot back to the floor. “This job needs to look as convincing as possible.”

Right. Seb shakes his head to kill the cobwebs of lust. They’ve got work to do.

“Did the judge grant Tara the restraining order?”

Nic’s eyes go dark. “Yeah, for all the good it does. The last one was two years ago, and Cal still managed to break her arm.”

Sebastian feels his fists curl as he does the math. “Isn’t their youngest girl two?”

“Yep.” Her jaw clenches. “Tara was pregnant with Jolanda at the time.”

If Seb could kill Cal now, he’d do it with his bare hands. He’d punch him right in his smug city councilman’s face. He’d knock out Cal’s teeth one by one, smiling as each molar hit the floor.

“You’re thinking about teeth, aren’t you?”

Seb pulls himself back to their living room. “How’d you know?”

“You got that dentist gleam in your eyes.”

“You know me well.” Seb’s aware he won the wife lottery. Wrapping his arms around her, he breathes in the flowery scent of her hair. “After today, Cal won’t worm his way back into Tara’s life. We’ll keep her safe this time.”

“Damn right.”

Footsteps pound the porch and Seb lets go of his wife to watch his pals and assorted in-laws troop up the steps. He goes to the door and promptly gets tackled by a five-year-old.

“Uncle ‘Bastian!” AJ hugs his legs, then dives for Nicole. “Can I play with the race cars?”

Nic hugs their nephew, then stands and holds out her arms for their infant niece. “Gimme.”

As Dante hands off baby Mia, Sebastian waves to five-year-old AJ’s parents. Matteo and Renee are wrangling their one-year-old out of the car, so Seb aims AJ toward the den. “The racetrack’s still set up for you.” He bends to scoop Mia’s twin brother from the baby carrier at Dante’s feet. Little Enzo has a tiny fist in his mouth and looks sweeter than any human has a right to. “Hey, little buddy.”

Dante growls with pride. “He rolled over last night.” He strokes a finger on his son’s small head. It’s a dead match for Dante’s bald scalp, minus the baby-fine fuzz. “His first time.”

“Just a day behind Miss Mia here.” Nic smooches Enzo’s twin and Seb’s heart goes gooey. “Doesn’t my sister make beautiful babies?”

“I might’ve helped.” Dante looks at Seb. “Jen did the hard part.”

Seb nods at his pal. “No talking about hard parts with kids in the room.” His mind’s only half focused on his own dumb joke. Sebastian can’t stop watching his wife, admiring Nic’s ease with her arms full of baby.

Feeling his eyes on her, Nicole looks up and smiles. “Cute, huh?” She tucks the infant back in her carrier as Seb does the same with Enzo. “Should we wake them up to play?”

“Don’t you dare.” Renee walks in behind Matteo, who’s got their dozing one-year-old in a pack on his chest. “It’s a miracle we got everyone napping at once.”

“Mandi’s a sleep champ.” Matteo turns so Renee can inspect their daughter. He might be Nic’s big brother, but right now, Teo’s in full-on father mode. “She’s up to thirty-two words in her spoken vocabulary.”

“Let me guess.” Seb’s not surprised Mandi got Teo’s genius IQ. “Mama, Dada, laptop, HTML, cyber security—”

“You joke,” Matteo interrupts, “but it’s never too early to teach basic computer skills.”

Renee stops fussing with their daughter’s little hat. “Teo’s teaching AJ to circumvent a firewall.”

“As one does.” Sebastian points to the other end of the house. “Anyone who wants a crib, follow me.”

He starts down the hall and feels Dante behind him. “Need a nap, big guy?”

Dante grunts with a baby carrier in each hand. “Hope you have a crib that fits me.”

“Take your pick.” Seb sweeps a hand over the guest room where four cribs and three toddler cots await their guests’ arrival. As Dante tucks the twins in a crib, Seb checks to make sure they’ve got what they need. Diapers? Yep. Sippy cups? Yep.

It’s hardly the mission pre-check Seb’s accustomed to. Leaving Dante to tend the twins, he heads next door to be sure all’s well with AJ.

The boy’s head snaps up at Seb’s footsteps. “Hi, Uncle ‘Bastian.”

“You’ve got your dad’s reflexes.”

AJ gives him a gap-toothed smile. “Wanna play race cars?”

“In a little bit.” He leaves the door cracked so they can keep an eye on him. “We’ve got a grownup meeting first.”

“Okay.” The boy returns to zooming blue plastic cars around the racetrack as Seb heads back to the living room. Renee’s holding Mandi now, so the one-year-old must’ve woken up. She’s sweet in her mother’s arms, her little body bundled in a red and pink sweater.

Matteo looks ready to burst with pride. “So.” Teo drags his eyes off his daughter. “Camping.”

“Yes.” Nic pats the sofa beside her and Seb sinks into it, draping an arm around his wife. “As far as anyone knows, Tara’s here for a good old-fashioned ‘camping weekend’ with the girls.”

The air quotes aren’t needed, but Seb loves watching Nic’s hands move.

He doesn’t love why they’re moving. “It’s absurd Tara has to come all this way to save her life.”

Dante growls. “At least ‘camping’ is still legal in Oregon.”

“For now.” Matteo cracks his knuckles. “It’s bad enough we have to use code words like ‘camping’ for something that should be a basic form of healthcare.”

Seb tries not to grind his teeth. Tara Warton isn’t the first woman they’ve helped since the Supreme Court kicked their country back to caveman times, but her case may be the toughest.

A mother of three, Tara’s a childhood friend of Nic and Jen. Her ex-husband, Cal, began hitting her early in the marriage. Scared and alone, Tara told no one until daughter number three came along. They’ve tried to get her out ever since. Nic almost managed once, but Cal conned his way back, insisting Tara should save their family.

That won’t happen this time.

“We’ve got eyes on the ex?” Seb asks.

“Affirmative.” Matteo looks at his wife. “He waited to leave town until after his meeting of white supremacist dipshits.”

“Such a model citizen.” Renee scowls and rocks their daughter. “Start the weekend with a racist agenda, hit a city council bake sale, then head out of town to stalk your ex-wife.”

Tracking Cal’s whereabouts is Matteo’s job. He even stopped by in person, though the dumbshit never knew.

“Cal keeps some questionable company.” A scowling Matteo scrolls his encrypted tablet. “The Aryan Society of Honor, Advancement, and Togetherness is on several government watch lists for domestic terrorism.”

Sebastian frowns. “You think they know their organization’s acronym is ASSHAT?”

Matteo checks the notes. “Wouldn’t it actually be ASHAT?”

“A shat.” Sebastian nods. “That fits, too.”

Dante’s frowning. A Dovlanese citizen, he’s not a native English speaker. “Someone use ‘a shat’ in a sentence, please.”

Seb volunteers. “I thought I had gas, but I guess it was a shat, and now I need to change my shorts.”

Matteo tilts his head. “Wouldn’t that be a shart?”

“Gentlemen.” Nicole shifts beside Seb on the sofa. “Let’s focus on the mission, okay?”

Renee rocks little Mandi in her arms. “Tara’s appointment is at three?”

Nic nods. “They can do this with pills since she’s just seven weeks along. But her history of high-risk pregnancy means they want an exam first.”

“That makes sense.” Renee looks at Teo. “You and I are on kid duty while Jen and Dante go with Tara.”

Sebastian catches Nic’s eye. The look they exchange says they’re well aware of their role in today’s mission. Seb’s ready.

From the fire in Nic’s eyes, she’s been ready for months.

Since way before the day Tara called sobbing. She nearly died giving birth to Jolanda. Doctors warned another pregnancy could kill her, but Cal wanted a boy. Wanted one bad enough to sabotage Tara’s birth control.

That brings them to now, taking things into their own hands. Sebastian fiddles with the toy tiger on his key chain. “What’s left to do?”

Dante speaks up. “We already put the tent and chairs in the woods.” The forest behind Jen and Dante’s vineyard is the setting for these make-believe camping trips. “We got the cooler packed this morning.”

Renee kisses Mandi’s fuzzy head. “Teo set it up so Cal thinks he’s hacking Tara’s social media. He’ll see her posts and pictures of camping.”

Matteo looks at Seb. “The dumbass was running Windows 7 with security updates shut off.”

Not hard to hack, especially for Teo. “Tara knows we’ll need photos so this looks real?”

“Jen filled her in,” Dante says. “Just the usual stuff. Setting up the tent. Reading by the campfire.”

“S’mores?” Matteo scans their surprised faces. “What? We want this to be convincing, right?”

“Right.” Seb squeezes Nic’s knee. “So, we’ll snap a bunch of smiling pics, and then get Tara to the cl—”

“—campground.” Nic touches his chest and Sebastian’s heart speeds up. “I know we’re in a safe, soundproof space, but we should practice staying in character.”

“You’re right.” His wife is damn smart. And clever and strong and hot as f—

“They’re here.” Renee stands and hands Mandi to Matteo. “You sure you’re good with the plan?”

Matteo grunts and gets to his feet. “I can handle it.”

“Three babies, two toddlers, and two five-year-olds?” Nicole shoots her brother a skeptical look. “I run a daycare and I’m not sure I could handle it.”

“I raised you and Jen, didn’t I?” Matteo heads for the guest room to check AJ. “That’s the equivalent of tending twenty toddlers riding wolverines.”

Nic laughs and heads for the door. “Armed toddlers.”

Sebastian watches her walk. God, his wife has a great butt. And legs. And arms.

Arms that look lovely snuggling a baby. They’ve talked about having one. Even before their wedding, they agreed they wanted kids. His dental practice is stable, and Nic’s daycare for families in jeopardy does great. But considering their other jobs—

“Hey, honey.” Nic smiles, and Seb remembers he’s honey. His wife waves him over and he slides in behind her as Jen leads a thin, dark-haired woman up the steps.

Tara’s got the two-year-old on her hip and a kid walking slowly on each side. It’s the bruise on Tara’s cheek that makes Seb’s blood boil.

“Easy, tiger,” Nic whispers and strokes his back. “We’ve got it handled.”

They step aside to let everyone through. Jen starts with introductions.

“You remember my brother, Matteo? This is his wife, Renee, and their little girl, Mandi.”

“Nice to meet you.” Tara doesn’t take off her sunglasses as she shakes Renee’s hand. “Beautiful family.”

“Thank you.” Renee smiles down at Tara’s two oldest girls. “You must be Nora, so you’re Cinda.” Her eyes lift to the two-year-old on Tara’s hip. “And this cutie must be Jolanda.”

The little girls nod as Jen continues introductions. “You’ve met my husband, Dante. And Nicole, obviously. That’s her husband, Sebastian.”

“Happy to meet you.” Seb says it, then kicks himself. This isn’t a cheerful potluck.

Nic wraps her arms around Tara. “Hey, sweetie. I’m glad you made it okay.”

“Me, too.” Tara’s voice sounds shaky. “Thank you for this.”

“We’ve got you.” Nic hugs her tighter. “No matter what, okay?”

Tara nods, and Seb sees her shoulders shake. Sees Dante’s jaw clenching; the big man on the brink of tracking down Cal and feeding his balls to farm animals.

Jen squeezes Dante’s arm and murmurs, “soon enough.”

Not soon enough for Seb’s liking. He waits for Tara’s girls to make eye contact before he points to the kitchen. “A little bird told me you like cherry popsicles.” He has their attention now. “Is that true?”

“Oh, yes!” Nora and Cinda turn wide eyes on their mother. “Mama?”

“It’s okay.” She offers a weak smile and sets Jolanda on the floor. “We’re safe here.”

Sebastian cracks his knuckles. He wants to kill Cal.

“Soon enough.” Nic’s words this time as she squeezes his arm.

Not for the first time, he’s grateful they’re in this together.

NICOLE

“SMILE!” Nic taps the screen and her camera clicks. She’s conscious of the tension pulsing off Tara as the woman grips a hammer and forces her face into a stiff smile. “You’re doing great.”

“We’re almost done.” Jen drops her arm from Tara’s shoulder and picks up a bag of tent stakes. “Just a few more pictures.”

Renee peers over Nic’s shoulder as she crops the photo. “It really looks like we’re deep in the woods.”

“Doesn’t it?” Nic saves the shot.

It’s the best thing about the forest fringing her sister’s farm. When the Supreme Court lost its collective mind and memes swirled about states where “camping” remained legal, Nic knew they had to help women in Idaho and Wyoming and Utah and other states that lost the right to choose.

It didn’t take long to build this campsite, complete with a fire ring and a scarred wooden picnic table. Since then, they’ve shepherded several dozen women through “camping trips” of their own.

None like Tara.

“Remember in third grade when Hank Holland put gum in your hair?” Jen’s talking to Tara as Nic fights a surge of fury. “He was mad because you wouldn’t kiss him.”

Tara winces. “My mom had to cut my hair short.” The sorrow in her eyes isn’t for childhood pranks. “I guess that was my first clue I had lousy taste in men?”

“Nothing is your fault.” Jen looks at Nic. “Didn’t you beat up Hank for the gum thing?”

“Yep.” Nic hands the phone to her sister. “Can you get a couple more of us setting up the tent?”

Jen gives the tent stakes to Tara, who’s frowning at her watch. “You’re sure it only takes ten minutes to reach the clinic?” Tara bites her lip. “I don’t want to be late.”

“Positive.” Nic gets busy building the tent. “Ever since the guys started working as escorts, they’ve got this down to a science.”

Tara blinks. “Escorts.” She looks at Jen. “Your husband, um—”

“Accompanies women to campgrounds.” Jen clicks a shot of Nic and Renee hoisting the front of the green and white tent. “They guard women while they run the gauntlet of protesters and people shouting horrible things.”

Nic’s heard the shouts herself.

Baby killer.

You’re going to hell.

Heartless slut.

The thought of anyone shouting at Tara—the kindest soul Nic knows—makes her see red. In sixth grade, Tara ran a food drive for kids without lunch money. In high school, she built a website where shy kids could find lunchtime table buddies.

That someone would hurt Tara—that her own husband would—makes Nicole want to track down Cal Warton and grind his balls into—

“Careful.” Renee takes a tent pole from her hand. “You’re bending it.”

“Sorry.”

Jen’s still explaining the escort thing to Tara. “They all went through training,” she continues. “Seb and Teo and Dante use their bodies to shield patients from the parking lot through the clinic doors. Once they’re inside, they stand guard. After, they help steady the women and get them safely to the car.”

The thought of Seb using his body as a shield sends a shiver through Nic. When they married last spring, she thought they’d ease into boring couple stuff. Laundry dates and mindless TV marathons.

But the animal magnetism, the constant hunger for Seb’s body—isn’t that supposed to fade?

Apparently not. She still wants to bang him 24/7. Would a baby change that? Maybe that’s not the worst thing. Their love’s survived worse. Surely they could navigate teething and colic and—

“Are you okay, hon?” Renee’s voice snaps Nic’s attention to Tara’s pale face. “Any questions about the appointment?”

Tara shakes her head. “I just want this hell over with.”

“Soon.” Jen stops firing photos and wraps her arms around Tara. “The bad part will be over before you know it.”

The appointment.

This hell.

The bad part.

No one’s saying abortion. It’s the last thing Tara ever wanted. All three of her girls were wanted, loved beyond measure.

From the day Nic met her in second grade, Tara wanted babies. She diapered her dolls and sang lullabies and sobbed when the head fell off her teddy bear. Nic and Jen’s grandma sewed it back on, then hugged Tara hard. “You’ve got a tender heart,” Nondi murmured. “Try not to get it broken.”

Tara’s dreams of motherhood came true, but so did her worst nightmare. What kind of asshole hits his wife?

The same kind who sabotages birth control pills.

By the time Tara got brave enough to leave Cal for good, she was six weeks gone with a pregnancy deemed likely to kill her.

Shaking off her rage, Nic points Tara to the front edge of the tent. “Could you tack down the corners?”

As Tara gets to work, Renee fights the rainfly. “Why do they make these holes so small?”

Nic grabs a tent pole. “Hold it open and I’ll slide it in.”

“You’re sure it’ll fit?” Renee looks dubious. “It looks too big.”

Tara lifts her hammer and whacks a plastic tent stake. “How hard can I pound this?”

The clearing of throats shoots Nic to her feet. Seb leans on a tree with a cocky grin. “Hey.”

“You startled me.” Lucky for him, she’s holding a tent pole and not a gun.

“Don’t stop on my account.” Seb lifts both brows. “I liked the sound of that conversation.”

Nic replays it in her mind, then rolls her eyes. “You’re a pre-teen boy trapped in a dentist’s body.”

Tara whacks a stake and stands. “Not any dentist body I’ve ever seen.” She blushes and bites her lip. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to ogle your husband. My hormones are all wonky.”

“Ogle away.” Nic pats Seb’s abs through his thin T-shirt. “I know where his hot piece of man meat is sleeping tonight.”

“Lucky girl.” Tara dusts both hands on her shorts. “Are we almost ready?”

“One more photo.” Jen looks guilty as she gives the command. “Smile.”

Tara tries, and it almost looks real. “Wait. Take one with all four of us.”

“Let me.” Seb grabs the phone as Jen, Nic, and Renee crowd around Tara, propping her up. “I won’t tell you to smile, but do you know what you call a dentist who doesn’t like tea?”

Nic groans. “Not this one.”

“What?” Tara looks at Seb. “I could use some silly humor right now.”

“A dentist who doesn’t like tea is Denis.” Seb clicks the shot as Tara gives a grimace that’s almost a real grin.

He tries again. “What does the dentist of the year get?”

“What?” Tara’s shoulders ease under Nic’s arm.

“A little plaque.” Seb fires off a photo. “What do dentists call x-rays?”

Now Nic’s the one smiling. Corny as it is, her husband knows how to put someone at ease. “Sebastian—”

“Tooth pics.” He clicks one more image, then hands the phone to Jen. “Dante’s pulling the truck around to pick you up at the bottom of the hill.”

“Thank you.” Tara squeezes Nic’s hand, then looks at Sebastian and lowers her voice. “Glad you got a good one.”

“Me, too.” Nic’s heart aches for her friend. “Quality men do exist.” Her gaze darts to Seb and she knows how lucky she is. “Honest, kind men who don’t hurt people.”

Seb lifts a brow and Nic knows what he’s thinking.

We only hurt people who deserve it.

Renee drops the rainfly and loops an arm through Tara’s. “I’ll walk down with you. I need to relieve Matteo, anyway.”

Jen looks at Nic. “You’ve got the rest of this?”

“It’s handled.” She waits ‘til they all walk away. Once they’re alone, she turns to Seb. “Ready?”

He knows what she means, but that doesn’t stop his flirty grin. “You want to brace yourself against a tree or should we crawl in the tent and get naked and—”

“Control yourself, Minty Fresh.” Wrapping her arms around him, she allows herself one lusty butt squeeze. “Business first.”

NIC TAPS her encrypted phone and toggles to the Portland airport arrivals page. “You found a tracking device on Tara’s car.”

It’s not even a question because duh.

Seb changes lanes, sunglasses masking eyes that still make Nic swoony. “The asshole stuck it next to her hide-a-key.” He scoffs. “Amateur.”

It does seem like a rookie move. “You think it’s a ruse?”

“No. I think the idiot’s really cocky enough to think no one would notice.”

It’s possible. Lord knows Nic’s always suspected Cal Warton possessed the intellect of a meatball. “So now he knows where she is.”

“He knows where her car is.” Seb glances over. “Don’t worry. Dante and Teo have it covered.”

She snorts. “To say nothing of your grandma’s old lady brigade.”

The instant Terri learned of their plans to aid women in need, she rallied her roster of armed senior citizens and Navy vets. “I thought we’d settled this fight for reproductive rights before you were born.” Sebastian’s grandma set a plate of fresh cookies between Nic and Seb. “If someone comes for Tara, they’ll have to get through us first.”

Hardly inconspicuous. But if Nic could put money on Terri’s crew or the trained hitmen guarding Tara and her kids, it’d be a tossup.

She watches Seb take the exit to the airport. “We’ve got an hour ‘til Cal’s flight lands.” She checks her watch again. “Want to listen to that audiobook?”

“Nah, let’s talk.”

“Uh-oh.” She’s teasing, of course. Talking with Seb is still her second-favorite way to pass time. It’s nice he feels the same. “Got something on your mind?”

He’s quiet for a moment. A hint this isn’t one of his “which superhero would you be” conversation starters.

Seb clears his throat. “I liked how you looked earlier.”

“In the sports bra?” She rolls her eyes. “I’ll put it on later. It’s hardly the right thing to wear for—”

“No, I meant with Mia.” His smile turns sheepish. “You look great holding a baby.”

“Yeah?” It warms her in a different way than when he ogles her body. “You and Enzo looked awfully sweet.”

His gaze flicks to hers. “Is looking good with a baby a reason to have one?”

Laughing, she pretends to consider. “They do make nice fashion accessories.”

“Very chic, if it weren’t for the poop.”

“You changed Enzo’s diaper like a pro.”

“I did an undercover gig at a military hospital NICU once,” he says. “Hazard of the job.”

It doesn’t surprise her he’s good with babies. It’s not the first time they’ve discussed having kids. Even before the wedding, they decided on having two or three.

“Soon,” they agreed, never deciding if that meant “next month” or “next year” or sometime far in the future.

As Seb cruises the parking lot, he looks at Nicole. “Considering our luck with birth control, it’s a miracle we don’t already have twelve babies.”

Her groan rides a laugh up her throat. “You mean the time AJ took my NuvaRing out of the fridge and set it up with the Easter eggs?”

Sebastian snorts. “To the kid’s credit, it did kinda look like part of the dye kit.”

“Lesson learned on storing them next to the eggs.” She changed birth control not long after.

Seb’s hand grazes her knee as he shifts gears. “How about the time the ring got stuck on my love log?”

“Love log?” She cracks up again, not sure if it’s the slang or the memory of the incident.

“Meat flute,” he offers instead. “Passion Pistol?”

“It was like the world’s weirdest game of ring toss.”

“Your vagina has excellent aim.”

“Thank you.” She scans the airport parking lot, pointing to the car rental kiosk. “There’s a spot.”

“Good eye.”

Thanks to Matteo’s hacking skills, they know there’s an Audi S5 waiting for Cal. Black, just like his soul.

Seb parks beside a dumpster. Perfect concealment, even if they weren’t both in disguise. “The worst was getting poked by your bug zapper.”

“Bug zapper?” She laughs as her brain connects the dots. “You mean my IUD?”

Sebastian shudders. “My dick’s still traumatized by the pokey thing.”

“Maybe if your dick weren’t the size of a large eggplant—”

“Are you complaining?”

“Hell, no.” She goes still as a dark-haired man strides through the baggage claim door. Same gait as Tara’s ex. Cal’s face looks thinner and meaner than when Nic watched him say “I do” at the front of a church.

“That’s him.”

Seb nods as Nic’s phone buzzes. Trusting him to keep watch, she looks at the screen. It’s a secure line, but Jen’s message is still cautious.

Just got back to camp. All is well.

She taps the thumbs-up emoji as another text comes through from Renee. No words with this one. Just a photo of Matteo with baby Mandi asleep on his chest. Curled beside him is AJ, and on his other side, Tara’s three girls cuddle in a tangle of teal and yellow blankets. Nora grips her sister’s sleeve, while Cinda sucks her thumb. Jolanda holds Teo’s little finger.

As Nic’s ovaries sigh, Sebastian clears his throat. “Cute.”

She looks up to see him watching the kiosk, but he must’ve glanced down. “The photo of Teo?”

“Yeah. Fatherhood looks good on your brother.”

Nic smiles as a second text comes through from Renee.

Don’t worry! Teo approved this message and used his tech magic to make sure it’s the security equivalent of tearing up a note and eating the pieces.

Another pic comes through of Teo playing dress-up with the girls. They’ve got him decked out in a pink felt hat and holding a tiny teacup. A red feather boa masks the scar on his throat.

“How cute is that?” Nic shows it to Seb, taking her turn watching the car rental kiosk as Sebastian studies the screen.

That’s when Cal comes out flipping a set of keys. He wears designer sunglasses and the confidence of a man who thinks he can march right through a restraining order. “He’s on the move.”

They don’t speak as Cal gets in the flashy sports car and revs the engine. Seb takes his time trailing him. They know where he’s headed, and even if they didn’t, there’s a tracking beacon tucked in the man’s wallet.

Cal’s not the only one with stalking skills.

They follow him to the hotel. Matteo confirmed Cal booked a room at Shady View Luxury Suites, and they’ve already scoped out the space.

Nic sets a hand on Seb’s thigh. “Cocky of him not to go straight to Tara.”

“Or at least try to see his own kids.”

She scoffs. “He stopped bothering when the judge said visits had to be supervised.” Her blood boils again. “They’re girls, so they’re not worth his time.”

“Fuck him.” Her husband’s growl shoots a shiver down her spine. “Men who think they get to decide how or when or what brand of kid they have?”

“Brand?” She watches Cal drag a wheeled suitcase toward the suite at the end of the building. “You have a way with words, Minty Fresh.”

“It’s how I talked my way into your pants.”

“Smug bastard.” It’s true, though, and she loves him for it. As Cal unlocks the door, Nic watches. “Are you worried this is all going too easy?”

“Nope.” Seb adjusts the rearview mirror. “You and me—we’re a well-oiled machine.”

Nic waits for the sex joke, but there isn’t one. He has a point. The two of them make a good team.

As the hotel room door swings shut behind Cal, Seb pulls out his encrypted tablet. It takes a few keystrokes to tap into the hotel switchboard. He hands earbuds to Nicole before anchoring his own in place. They wait in silence, Seb fidgeting with the fringe on her handbag.

It’s the calm before the storm.

They jump when the call goes through. A cheery receptionist picks up on the first ring. “Front desk.”

“This is Ben Derhover, room eighteen.” Cal’s bad pseudonym earns an eye roll from Nic. “There’s no goddamn toilet paper in the room.”

“I apologize for that, sir. I’ll send someone right away.”

As Cal curses, Nic covers her mouth to keep from laughing. She waits until Seb disconnects. “If there’s a God,” she murmurs. “Cal learned the hard way that we took all his tissue.”

“I’m a believer.” Seb watches her pull two rolls from the bag at her feet. Blue eyes fill with pride and a little concern. “You’re sure you want to go it alone?”

Nic nods and checks her weapon. The Glock 43 gleams fully loaded with a silencer. There’s a knife between her shoulder blades and a toxic vial of powder concealed in her necklace. She adjusts her hotel housekeeping apron to cover the firearm.

“This job’s personal.” She meets Seb’s eye. “Tara’s my friend and this asshole’s terrorized her for years.”

“I know.”

“He’ll do it forever unless I stop him. She swallows the lump in her throat. “He’ll eventually kill her.”

“I know.” Seb nods again. “I get it. And I’ve got your back.”

He always does. It’s what she loves best about her husband. They’re good together. Not just with this, but with housework and travel and navigating family drama.

What about parenthood?

She ignores the voice for now. There’s time for that talk later.

Drawing a breath, she grabs the door handle. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it.” Lifting a hand, Seb grabs her left breast.

No, not her breast.

Her employee nametag, the one that says she’s Annie from hotel housekeeping.

The contact leaves her tingling, and she meets his eyes with a smile. “When this is done,” she murmurs, “wanna fool around?”

Seb’s smile pours warm syrup on her soul. “Count on it.”

SEBASTIAN

“WHO WANTS ANOTHER HOT DOG?”

Seb holds up the package and gets instantly tackled by two five-year-olds. AJ yanks his left pant leg while Tara’s girl, Nora, grabs the right.

“Uncle ‘Bastian.” Clutching his skewer, AJ nearly spears Seb’s junk. Renee plucks the weapon from her son’s hand as AJ pleads his case. “Can we have s’mores now?”

“Not until we’ve all had dinner.” Seb knows for a fact the kid fed half his hot dog to Dante’s pig, Zsa Zsa. It freaked him out until Jen pointed out they’re turkey dogs.

“At ease, soldier,” said Nic’s little sister. “There’s no pork, so it’s not cannibalism.”

Seb eyes the ankle biters attached to his pant legs. “Let’s at least have the two of you split a hot dog.” Kids need protein, right? “And carrot sticks,” he adds, feeling virtuous and responsible.

Is this what fatherhood’s like?

Little Nora watches him with wide blue eyes. “I can hold the stabber?”

“If an adult says it’s okay.”

The girl frowns. “Aren’t you an adult?”

“Not even close.” Seb waits for Tara’s nod of approval, then threads a hot dog on a skewer. As Nora takes it, Sebastian lays out a bun beside the condiments.

Jen and Dante supervise roasting as their twins snooze in a portable crib. It’s nice in these woods. By far the best campsite Seb’s seen, with the bonus of Jen and Dante’s farmhouse right down the hill.

He tries not to eavesdrop on Nic’s murmured talk with Tara. From what he’s gathered, all went well. Some cramping with the first pills, but nothing unbearable. Seb catches words like “pads” and “ibuprofen” and “bleeding” and opts to stay out of it. They’ll let him know if he’s needed.

“Want me to warm the heat pad again?” Nic brushes hair off Tara’s face. “Is it too cool or too hot?”

“It’s just right.” Tara turns to look at Renee rubbing her back. “Thank you.”

“Here you go.” Matteo sets a paper plate on the stump beside Tara. “One s’more with six squares of dark chocolate and a slightly burnt marshmallow, as requested.”

“Perfect.” Tara’s eyes fill with gratitude as she lifts the gooey confection to her lips.

It’s the photo op Seb’s waited for, though he hates this part. “Say cheese.” Asking her to smile would be a dick move, so he’s glad when she gives him a limp wave before taking a bite.

“Delicious.” She chews and swallows, keeping one hand on little Jolanda’s back. “You want a bite, sweetie?”

“Uh-huh.”

Nora howls. “How come she gets one—”

“Because she finished her supper.” Renee guides the girl’s skewer back to the fire. “Come on, sweetie—you’re almost done.”

AJ points to a different patch of coals. “Move it over there.”

“I don’t want—Mooooooooom!” She wails as the hot dog flops off and hits the flames with a sharp hiss.

A morose Matteo grabs another hot dog. “It’s all fun and games until someone loses a wiener.”

Seb doesn’t snicker. Much. He makes eye contact with Nic, watching her walk around the fire to claim the camping chair beside him. She scoots close enough to intertwine their legs. “Hey there.”

“Hello, beautiful.” He kisses her softly, feeling tender toward his wife. “Everything okay?”

Nic nods and glances to where Tara holds Jolanda on her lap. Cinda’s beside them, playing with a pair of dolls on a blanket Matteo laid out. “I think it’s good for Tara, being out here like this.” She studies her friend. “I’m glad she fought me on staying in bed this evening.”

“Being around people probably helps.”

Not just people. Family. No matter how much he does this, Seb never fails to feel the emotional impact of these camping trips.

And he’s just a guy. “I can’t imagine how she’s feeling right now.”

“Yeah.” Nic looks back at Tara. “She’s spent and she’s hurting, but more than anything, she’s relieved.”

Relieved she won’t risk her life to bring another child into the world. Relieved not to have one more tie to her abusive ex. Speaking of Cal—

“Dante said all went well with Operation Oops.”

Nic lifts a brow. “You’re not calling it that.”

He’s not sure what else to call their creative disposal of Cal Warton’s body. The fiery explosion of a rental car shoved off a cliff and made to look like a routine car accident. At some point, Tara will get the call. She’ll feel stunned and conflicted and maybe relieved. Whatever a woman feels when her tormentor—a man she once trusted—gets removed from the gene pool for good.

On the other side of the campfire, Jolanda pats Tara’s cheeks. “Love you, Mama.”

“I love you, sweetheart.” Tears glitter in Tara’s eyes as she kisses her daughter’s face. The child sighs and snuggles closer.

As Sebastian watches, the smallest, simple smile tugs Tara’s lips.

Nic squeezes Seb’s hand. “Did you see that?” she whispers. “Seemed like a real smile that time.”

“Yeah.” He kisses the top of her head. “Family fixes most things.”

Nic turns her chair to settle against his chest. “Maybe she senses Cal can’t find her again.”

“That doesn’t hurt.”

Nic tenses. “I made sure it did.”

God, he loves his wife. Wants her, too. Now’s the wrong time to say that. He’s not a pig, and if Nic needs emotional support—

“Sebastian?”

“Yeah?”

She rests her palm on his chest. “Want to sneak away?”

God, yes. “You think anyone will mind?”

“I already told Renee.” The smile she gives him is almost shy. “I, um…was supposed to start a new pack of pills this morning.”

His heart trips on a rib. “Oh?”

Nic bites her lip. “I could still take it. Or use something else. But if you think you might be ready, we could—”

“Yes.” He’s on his feet faster than she can say, “do me now.”

Maybe she’s not saying it, but the words seem implied by how she sprints ahead, calling goodnight to their friends. “See you in the morning!” she shouts as she hurries to the Volvo.

Seb’s on her heels, heart thudding hard. Is this really happening?

Nic drives, which is fine by him. It gives him a chance to get her flannel camping shirt unbuttoned, tugging it to reveal a thin lavender tank top beneath. “No bra?”

“I know you like surprises.” Nic grins. “Especially ones involving underwear.”

“You’re so fucking hot.” Nuzzling her neck, he curses the seatbelt that keeps him from getting closer. It’s the longest drive in the history of car rides.

“Easy, Minty Fresh.” She laughs and turns the corner down their street. “We’re almost home.”

Home.

There was a time he thought he’d never have that. Definitely not one with a beautiful wife and a happy, normal life. And now…

“Are we really making a baby?”

“Not at the moment.” Nic kills the engine. “Do we need a refresher on how this works?”

Grinning, Seb steps from the car. “I think I’ve got it.”

Before she can protest, he’s sweeping her up in his arms and carrying her through the door of their house. He aims for the bedroom, but trips on a toy halfway through the living room.

“Ooof.” He rolls to one side, reflexes sharp enough to land gently with Nic beneath him.

She laughs and spits hair from her mouth. “Smooth.” Still smiling, she touches his face. “Will we conceive our future child between a juice-stained ottoman and a bear missing one eye?”

Seb shoves away the creepy stuffed creature and kisses his wife. “Is that a problem?”

“Nope.”

Not for him, either. Nic could be covered in Dijon, and he’d still want to lick her from head to toe. He doesn’t even like mustard.

As he strips off her clothes, Nic shoves his jeans down his hips. “I need you inside me as soon as possible.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Seb makes it happen, entering her in one slick stroke.

Too fast—he should take his time and be gentle.

“More.” Nic wraps her legs around him and drags him deeper. “Oh, God.”

He keeps going, arching just so to graze her clit on the next stroke. Nic cries out and rakes her nails down his back. She’s tugging his shirt, struggling to drag it over his head as he moves again.

“Yes, yes, yes.” She pants in his ear, breath hitching when he gets an arm under her hips to tilt her up. On the next stroke, he hits the spot that makes her come unhinged. “Oh my God, Sebastian.”

She’s almost there. He knows from years of practice, and he’s struggling to hold on himself. “Nicole.” He fights to calm his breathing. “You feel so good.”

“Don’t stop.”

Like he would.

When her eyes fly wide, Seb feels her pull him to the edge with her. As her inner walls squeeze, stars explode behind his eyes. He roars with his own pleasure.

“Nicole.” It sounds like a prayer, like a shout of triumph. “I love you.”

With one last cry, Nic goes limp beneath him. As her hand cups his chin, she smiles. “I love you, too.”

He stares into her eyes and feels sure there’s no way he could ever care for another human this much. It’s not possible.

But deep in his gut, he knows he’s wrong about that. “Did we just make a baby?” He smiles at the thought. “Is that what happened here?”

“Maybe.” Nic laughs and squeezes him with her thighs. “We should probably give it a few more tries.”

“Good thinking.” He rolls away, surprised to see he’s still half hard. Might have something to do with Nic’s naked body pressed up against him. “You’re so sexy.”

“You’re not bad yourself, Minty Fresh.” She glances down at his junk. “Armed and ready, I see.”

He laughs. “I might need a few minutes.” Maybe he doesn’t have a twenty-year-old’s ability to go again right away, but he’d never trade that for what he has now.

Love.

Security.

Family.

Nic kisses his temple. “Think we should try the bed next time?”

“Or the couch.”

“Laundry room?”

“The shower’s good.”

Nic laughs. “Better test every room in the house, just to be sure.”

He’s game. He’s up for anything, as long as it’s with her. “I love you, Nicole.”

She curls with her hand on his chest, her smile a warm ray of sunshine. “I love you, Seb.”

Thanks for supporting the Dissent anthology, and for gobbling this tiny taste of my Assassins in Love series. If you want more of Nicole and Sebastian, Jen and Dante, and Matteo and Renee, you’ll find the whole series here.

Want to know more about me, my books, or what happened after I tipsily bought a Kitty of the Month trophy? Subscribe to my newsletter where I give away gobs of fun prizes, sale alerts, and insider secrets about my 40+ published rom-coms: https://tawnafenske.com/subscribe/

About the Author

When Tawna Fenske finished her English lit degree at 22, she celebrated by filling a giant trash bag full of romance novels and dragging it everywhere until she’d read them all. Now she’s a RITA Award finalist, USA Today bestselling author who writes humorous fiction, risqué romance, and heartwarming love stories with a quirky twist. She lives in Bend, Oregon, with her husband, step-kids, and a menagerie of ill-behaved pets, where she loves hiking, standup paddleboarding, and inventing excuses to sip wine on her back porch. She can peel a banana with her toes and loses an average of twenty pairs of eyeglasses per year.

#1 PRENUP

T. GEPHART

CHAPTER ONE

TIA

I’D PICTURED myself marrying Eric Larsson so many times that if I’d admitted it out loud, I’d probably be committed.

For real.

Locked away, with no hope of rejoining the sane and logical good folk I’d been walking among for years.

But insane or not, I’d imagined every detail in a recurring dream that could instantly bring a smile to my face. The fantasy tucked away for when I was having a bad day, or was annoyed, or the latest streaming drama wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

And our wedding would be HUGE. With lavish decorations and an intricate menu that would be custom designed for us by some celebrity chef. I’d walk down a long purpose-built aisle in a Vera Wang gown with a veil that would trail behind me for at least ten feet. A celebration of such epic proportions that people would talk about it for decades, maybe even centuries—whispered in reverence for all time.

But while I liked to indulge on the crazy side of the street, I wasn’t completely delusional and knew that my “dream” wedding was a fairytale.

Pretend.

Like that stupid cellulite cream they sold for a hundred dollars a jar but did absolutely nothing for your ass—full of lies but not really hurting anyone.

I never actually believed it would happen.

“Oh my God.” I tried to not hyperventilate as I paced the room. “This is not how I imagined it.”

Of course, the conversation would make more sense if I were having it with someone, namely my extremely famous, ridiculously hot fiancé who was not only one of the hottest leading men in Hollywood but had the starring role in my fantasy. But alas, Eric was off doing acting stuff that would probably get him an Academy Award while the woman he’d fallen in love with was having a crisis. Who meets and marries their celebrity crush? No one does. The destiny of our kind of relationship was more likely to end up on opposite sides of a courtroom rather than an altar.

Guess he was kinda crazy too—hey, not like he could be totally perfect.

In any case, and whichever of us was the more unhinged, we were getting married.

And I was going to be someone’s wife.

And my husband was not only famous but had more money than should be allowed.

And that made me so nervous, I felt like I was going to puke.

Pretending to spend other people’s money was fun, but when it was legitimately there for the taking, I wanted no part of it. Not only was I not a gold digger—self-made and proud—but I didn’t even want the stupid fantasy anymore. Especially when my reality was so much better. And that ten-foot veil …Please, I’d probably trip on it and break both legs before I even made it to the “I do” part.

Maybe the Vera Wang dress though, because everyone deserves to feel like a princess. But everything else was getting stripped down, simplified, and tailored to my new dream.

Just wanting to love and be with him forever.

Without all the glitz and distractions.

Assuming that passing out from restricted oxygen, and Eric coming home to a strewn body on the floor was less than ideal, I instead decided to enlist the help of the one person I knew could give me some perspective.

No, not Lila, my beautiful, amazing and talented best friend who was busy with her own sexy man. But someone less biased, albeit pricklier.

My hand fumbled onto my nightstand, retrieving my phone as my fingers got busy scrolling through my contacts.

“Tia.” His voice was a mix a silky confidence and annoying arrogance which most would assume he couldn’t back up. They’d be wrong, however, with the man on the other end of the phone both an acute asshole and at the top of his game.

“Roman,” I breathed out, hoping I wasn’t making a huge mistake. Roman Peirce—hot shot lawyer and sometimes jerk—was Eric’s brother. And while they might not share the same famous last name—Roman preferring to keep his private and professional life separate—make no mistake, they were tight, and I wasn’t sure how it would play out. Loyalties being what they were and all. “I need your help.”

“So the day has finally come.” I heard the smile in his voice, imagining him grinning. “Just tell me what the charges are and where you’re being held, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

My chest heaved, the air squeezing out of my throat as I coughed. “What? No. I haven’t been arrested. And really, Roman? That’s what you’ve been waiting for? What the hell is wrong with you?”

I assumed he was joking, poking me to get a reaction. Roman ate anger, annoyance, and antagonization like it was a snack, his soul a weird kind of wonderful I didn’t want to explain.

I’m sure he didn’t get hugged enough as a child.

“Glass houses, Tia. If we’re arguing what is wrong with people—”

“Yes, yes,” I cut him off. I was usually fine with playing the game of intellectual sparring that came with a conversation with Roman, except my issue was time sensitive and my future husband would be getting home soon. “There’s a bunch of stuff wrong with me too. Blah, blah, blah. But thankfully not one of them is me being in jail.”

Never thought that would be the benchmark for my problems, and yet, there we were.

“Fine, I’ll play nice since this seems like a serious call.” He sighed, sounding slightly disappointed. I think deep down, he secretly loved he was gaining a sister, the posse of Larsson brothers—six in total—seriously needing an injection of estrogen. “But if you ever are arrested, just know I won’t pass judgment.”

“Well thanks, I guess.” I shrugged, not sure if the assurance was comforting or concerning. “But you are kinda on the right path. I am in need of your legal expertise. Or counsel. Or whatever it is you do to get things your way in a courtroom.”

He laughed, a genuine intrigued chuckle that was out of character for the usually reserved and guarded Roman. “Why don’t you tell me what you need, and I’ll make it happen, Tia. The only person who gets to annoy my future sister-in-law is me.”

My lips slowly expelled a breath, still not sure it wouldn’t have been better asking someone else. But then there was the risk of the tabloids. And I’d already been burnt by them once before. “I need you to draw up a prenup. Before I marry Eric. And I want it watertight.”

There was a pause, the air between us still as I waited for his response.

“Errrrr … Tia. I’m sure your lipstick collection is very valuable to you, but you know Eric has an insane net worth. I’ve made sure of it, strong arming him into investments from his first paycheck. So even if he never made another movie again, he could live like a rich recluse who uses Picassos for firewood.”

“Yes, I know.” I nodded even though no one else could see me. “Which is why we need the prenup. It’s not to protect me, Roman. It’s to protect him.”

There was no doubt in my mind that Eric and I were the real deal. We’d already beaten the odds a thousand times over and I couldn’t imagine a future without him in it.

But.

Life was unexpected.

And who knew what would happen.

So, if the day ever came—Lord, please let that day never come—and we broke up, I would walk away with the only things I walked in with. Because being with Eric was never about the fame, the fancy houses, exotic cars, and piles of money.

I’d only ever wanted him.

Another pause.

“So, you want me to draw up a prenup for him? Isolating his assets from the marriage should a dissolution occur?” His words were cautious, careful, like I might not fully understand what I was asking him to do.

My head bobbed, already feeling lighter in my decision. “That’s exactly what I’m asking. What’s his, stays his. And I’ll keep my extensive—and very expensive—lipstick collection.” I laughed, trying to find some levity in essentially planning for the end of my marriage which hadn’t even started yet.

“You know he’s going to lose his shit, right?” He laughed, seeming to enjoy the impending ire of his older brother. “He’s going to want to tear me a new asshole and then flat out refuse to sign.”

“Um, did you not just tell me how you strong armed him into investments? Enough money to burn Van Goghs to toast marshmallows?” I reminded him, refusing to believe the great Roman Peirce wasn’t up to the task.

“I said Picassos.”

“Semantics.” I shook my head.“I thought you were a good lawyer. But I guess if this is beyond you, I can call someone else to do it. You know, someone who isn’t afraid and can get the job done.”

“You are such a pain in the ass.” I could almost see the smirk on his face. “I knew there was a reason I really liked you.”

A relieved breath left my lips. “Yeah, the feeling is mutual. So, you’re going to do this, right?” I knew better than to assume anything with Roman, and I wanted reassurances and a verbal agreement. Because if anyone could weasel out of anything, it was the second eldest Larsson.

“I’ll draw up the papers, Tia. I’ll even recommend he sign them. Honestly, it would be in his interest to sign them but that isn’t going to change the fact he probably won’t. He’s crazy in love with you. And I can’t think of any scenario where he’d divorce you. None. You could probably cheat on him, rob the man blind, and he’d still want to work it out. Not sure I fucking understand it, but it doesn’t make it any less true.”

Hearing those words was the reassurance I didn’t know I needed. Of course, we loved each other. But it was hard not to wonder if my feelings were just a “little more” intense than his. After all, I was a pretty intense person. More high strung than most people I knew. So when it came to loving like crazy, I was sure that I took out the gold medal. But apparently my #1 Crush, boyfriend, and now fiancé was vying for the position.

Mmmmm, it was so hot when he tried to out crazy my crazy.

“That’s one of the nicest things you’ve ever said to me, Roman.” My eyes watered a little.

“It wasn’t supposed to be.” He chuckled. “I’m appalled.”

“Say what you want, but underneath the cactus exterior, you’re just a sweetheart like the rest of your brothers.”

He coughed, clearing his throat. “Say that in public and I’ll have you blacklisted from Sephora and Ulta.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” I gasped.

“Wouldn’t I?” He taunted. “I’ll let you know when the papers are ready.”

And with a goodbye, we ended the call.

It was a weird mix of emotion, both relief and something else. I wasn’t sure what exactly I was feeling, but I knew it was the right thing to do. And while I’d been accused of not always doing the right thing, this was one time it was necessary.

I wasn’t marrying Eric for anything other than one reason.

And that reason was love.

CHAPTER TWO

TIA

I WAS DYING.

Slowly.

My breath wheezing out of my chest like my ribs were a bone cage vise.

“Tia?” Eric asked, unaware that I was perishing right before his eyes. I hoped he would buried me in my wedding dress, it would be a shame I’d never get to wear it.

“Tia!” he said again, this time more forcefully. “What the hell?”

Confusion clouded his eyes as I blinked back, clutching my chest. “It’s nothing,” I lied, the paperwork laying on the table making it feel a hell of a lot more real than it did in theory.

He was going to be mad.

And hurt.

And why hadn’t I just spoken to him first.

Not sure which reality I lived in, but even though my intention had been pure, he was absolutely going to take it the wrong way. Because he hadn’t even spoken about the possibility of a prenup, let alone a physical one that had already been drawn up, ready to be signed, and filed.

Ta-da!

I was going to end my marriage before it began.

The irony, I was only trying to do the right thing.

Eric’s eyes narrowed, studying me closer like he knew I was lying.

Probably because I was lying, and I’d always been terrible at keeping things from him.

I had planned the evening with military level precision, preparing a special dinner and looking like a million dollars. I may have used his credit card to buy some new La Perla, oh well, technically it was for him so it was allowed. But even though I’d been careful and dedicated to my distraction, he had been totally onto me the minute he’d walked in the door.

He was supposed to take me into his arms, kiss me passionately, and be distracted by my very tasteful—but plentiful—cleavage on display. Then he’d notice I’d organized all his favorite foods for dinner, and battle internally on whether or not to make love to me now or after our feast. He’d be unable to resist, sliding his hands all over my body, freeing me from my newly acquired lingerie, and taking me right there on the couch.

It would be intense, sexy, and so goddamn hot that we’d forget all about dinner, letting it go cold, needing to order pizza.

Then in a happy, endorphined post sex haze, while casually nibbling on a New York style—meh, it wasn’t the real deal but best I could find in L.A.—slice, I’d bring up the prenup. He’d grumble a little, tell me I was being ridiculous, but then say he’d do whatever it was that made me happy.

Yes. I was totally going to use my body and food to my advantage, which was incredibly cliché and the pinnacle of anti-feminism but there were no victims here. We both needed very little encouragement to dissolve into spontaneous sex and hello, have you seen my fiancé? Hot doesn’t even come close. And, the endgame was virtuous, even if my methods were not.

Pity, he’d read the script.

Instead, he’d taken one look at me, my flirty lingerie, and asked me point blank what was wrong.

Foiled.

And because I’d been so, so positive my plan would work and had no backup, I may have started to hyperventilate a little. Because he sure as hell wasn’t going to be agreeable to legal documents without the sex-haze or the imitation NYC pizza.

“I need you to tell me exactly what’s wrong.” His eyes moved from concerned to slightly panicked. “Nothing good comes from you freaked out.”

He was right about that.

Although I’d freaked a few times earlier in our courtship, I still ended up engaged to the hottest, most talented actor in Hollywood so maybe I wasn’t doing too badly after all.

“You’re going to be angry,” I said, stating the obvious. “But you need to remember it’s only because I love you and I’m doing this to protect you.”

I figured the preamble wouldn’t do much good, but I had to try anyway. Besides, maybe I had overthought it, and he totally wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about it. Agreeing, signing, and then moving on to more important things like ruining perfectly good lingerie and a delicious dinner.

His arms wrapped around mine, pulling my body to his. Gentle kisses peppered my forehead as he slowly breathed out. “Just tell me, Tia. Do you want to postpone the wedding? Is that why you’re so freaked out?”

I gasped.

Literally gasped.

Inadvertently pulling back as my eyes widened to maximum capacity.

He had to be joking.

“What? No. Oh, my God, no. I want to marry you. I want to soooooo marry you. In fact, we can go to Vegas tonight and get married if you want, just to prove how much I want to marry you.”

Second thoughts were not my problem.

Not even a little.

A smile broke out across his lips, his finger reaching out and tracing my jaw. “Then tell me, New York. Tell me what you could possibly say that will make me angry.”

God he was sweet.

So stinking sweet.

And he was all mine.

“I need you to sign a prenup. It’s all drawn up, ready for you.” I pointed to the coffee table, the innoxiously plain envelope laying like a body in a crime scene.

His eyes widened, the crystal blue pools that could melt a billion panties searing me with a confused look before laughing.

Not just a chuckle.

But a huge full body assault where he choked on a breath before gasping out, “Oh, my God, Tia. You had me so worried for a minute. I thought the media attention was giving you cold feet. Prenup. That’s a good one. What’s really in there?” He wiped a tear from his eye.

Oh.

Fuck.

He thought I was joking.

Granted, I’d never mentioned a prenup or speaking to his brother—or any other lawyer—so it was a little out of left field. But it wasn’t completely crazy though, right?

He was famous.

He was rich.

His kind did shit like that all the time.

I was surprised he hadn’t been the one to bring it up. I sure as hell wouldn’t have been offended by it.

Unless he wanted to and was nervous, thinking I’d assume he was planning our divorce before we even got married.

Which I didn’t.

“Tia.” He shook me lightly, lifting my chin to meet his gaze. “What are you thinking about, crazy, beautiful woman? You look like you’re battling with Excel.”

“Hey, I’m a writer, Eric. Numbers confuse me. And Excel is just the Devil’s work, and we need proper acknowledgement on that fact,” I fired back, rock solid in my stance that demon spreadsheets brought no one any joy.

“Whatever you say, New York.” His mouth covered mine in what would easily be the start of something completely indecent. And trust me, that would be preferable. But we still hadn’t resolved my little “paperwork” issue. “Also, whatever happened today to upset you, we’ll work it out. I promise you, Tia. Nothing is that bad.”

Oh, it was going to be bad.

He just didn’t know it yet.

And the longer I held out, the worse it was going to be. Because if there was one thing that I’d learned from my past was that keeping things from Eric, never worked out well.

But it was so easy to keep kissing him.

Maybe just a little while longer.

Dear lord in heaven and all the saints.

“Eric, I wasn’t joking about the prenup.” I managed to pull my traitorous lips away before they foiled the whole plan. “Roman drew it up. You just need to sign it.”

“What?” he asked, seeming to be genuinely confused. “What are you talking about?”

My chest expanded, taking a mouthful of air and hoping a deep breath might make it easier.

Or make me sound more convincing.

Or at the very least, stop me from passing out from lack of oxygen.

“I’m not marrying you for your money. So if anything happens—”

“No!” he fired back, his hands still gripping my arm. “You think I’m going to divorce you? You don’t plan a marriage with an exit strategy.”

“There’s no strategy. You just keep everything that’s yours.”

I loved Eric with every single fiber of my being.

I wanted to believe that we were going to be married forever.

And someday, when we were both old and wrinkled—he’d still be hot though because, hello, he was Eric Larsson—we’d peacefully go into eternity together. Like those two old people in The Notebook.

But on the slight—microscopic—chance that it didn’t end up that way, I wouldn’t profit from my marriage. Or his success. It just didn’t feel right.

“No.” He dropped his hands, the first time he actively stopped touching me since he walked in. “I’m not fucking signing it, Tia. I’m not fucking doing it. If you leave me, you can have half. Hell, take all of it. I don’t give a shit, but I am not signing it.”

Eric didn’t get angry often.

In fact, the first time I thought he’d been angry—when he discovered that I wasn’t actually an actress and had been lying to him—he’d been acting the whole time.

But currently, he wasn’t acting.

And the anger was very real.

“I don’t want half. I don’t want anything. That’s what this is about. I just want you, Eric.”

I needed for him to see, to understand why. To know that it didn’t mean I didn’t believe in us, but that I was doing it because I loved him.

He shook his head, his fingers reaching to his beautiful tousled blond hair and raking through it in frustration. “I’m going to kill Roman.”

“Can you do it after you sign, though?” I tried to laugh to lighten the mood. “He’s not charging me, and attorneys cost a fortune.”

His lips twitched into a grin, trying not to smile. “You can’t charm your way out of this, Tia. I don’t want to do this.”

“Oh, but I’m very charming,” I argued. “And this makes sense. And we both know out of the two of us, I’m not the responsible one. So, if anything, I should be mad at you for not organizing this yourself.”

He chuckled, unable to stop the smirk. “How did this become my fault?”

I wrapped my arms around him, still needing to pinch myself that it was all real.

Me.

Him.

Us.

That I was not only allowed to touch him but that he was mine. And he loved me. And soon—when he signed that godawful agreement—he’d be my husband.

If past Tia could see future Tia, she would die.

Expire from the shock and disbelief of how we ended up in the arms of our #1 Crush.

“I love you, Eric. I will love you even after our existence stops. And there will never be a time when that will not be true. But you need to trust me.”

Maybe it was stupid.

Maybe I was putting the curse of a million suns on us by even anticipating our demise.

But after everything we’d been through, and everything I knew we would go through in the future, there was only one thing I was sure about.

And that was us.

His lips crushed to mine, stopping the argument with a kiss. “I’m not willing to concede, Tia. But I don’t want to fight with you.”

“I don’t want to fight either,” I mumbled between kisses. “Besides, it’s not fair if we’re arguing and you’re kissing me, you know that makes my brain short circuit.”

For real, how I could still talk was a mystery and I didn’t hold out much hope the longer he continued it.

“Good, then let’s take this to my bedroom. I’ll call Roman tomorrow and we’ll work it out.” His lips trailed down my neck, making my skin tingle in the most delicious way.

“Sure. We’ll call Roman,” I agreed, knowing that his hard-ass brother would be on my side. “But not right now.”

It wouldn’t be the end.

I was sure there would be more disagreement, maybe even yelling. And who knew what else.

But in the end, it would work out because I hadn’t hijacked a red carpet, met the man of my dreams, fallen in love, and gotten engaged to him just for it to implode right before the wedding.

Not a chance.

Fate wouldn’t be so cruel.

Besides, if it did all go to shit, I still had my backup plan.

Lock him in the basement and force him to love me.

Just kidding.

I wouldn’t do that.

Not really.

“Tia.” His lips brushed against my throat. “I’m going to love you forever too.”

Guess the basement wasn’t needed then.

“Thank goodness. Subterranean living wouldn’t have agreed with me.”

“What?” He laughed. “You make no sense.”

“And yet, here you are.” I gave him a pointed look.

“Yep, here I am.” He nodded, scooping me into his arms. “And that’s where I plan to stay.”

About the Author

T Gephart is a USA Today and International bestselling author from Melbourne, Australia. With an approach to life that is somewhat unconventional, she prefers to fly by the seat of her pants rather than adhere to some rigid roadmap. Her lack of “plan” has resulted in a rather interesting and eclectic resume, which reads more like the fiction she writes than an actual employment history. She’d tell you all about it, but the statute of limitations hasn’t expired yet. But all those crazy twists and turns have led her to a career she loves—writing romantic comedy.

When she isn’t filling pages with sassy and sexy characters with attitude, she’s living her own reality show in the ‘burbs of Melbourne with her American husband, two children, and her fur child—Woodley. She loves adventure, to laugh, travel, and strives to live her life to the fullest.

tgephart.com

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HER CHOICE

TONI ALEO

CHAPTER ONE

“CAM? YOU IN THERE?”

I drag my hands down my body in pure hopelessness as I swallow a sob. The tile of our bathroom is cold, and it’s welcome against the backs of my thighs. Not only am I sore from practice, but since I can’t keep anything down, the coolness is helping my nausea.

“Hey, are you okay? You’ve been in there awhile. You didn’t drink milk, did you?”

God, I wish.

Any other time, any other moment, I would laugh my ass off at my roommate’s joke about my dairy issues. I’ve been lactose intolerant since birth, but that’s not the issue right now. I wish it were. Instead, in front of me sits a pregnancy test with the word PREGNANT in the window.

I force a laugh, though I feel as if I’ve fallen into a dark hole and can’t find my way out. “Ha-ha. No, my stomach is upset. I don’t think my lunch is sitting right.”

“Oh no! Do you need some Sprite?” Callie is the sweetest and the best roommate ever. “Or Tums?”

“I’m good. Thanks, Cal.”

“Okay,” she says happily. “Do you need me?”

I do, but what would I even say? How would I even explain this? It’s drilled into our heads during recruitment and even at our team meetings—do not get pregnant. Hell, all of us got the same birth control implants in our arms. We went together. It was a team-bonding exercise, and then we went for sushi afterward. I had an allergic reaction to the implant, so I switched to the pill, but I take it religiously. I don’t understand.

“Aren’t you meeting Evan? I thought y’all were looking at apartments?”

“We are,” she says, and I’m sad all over again. I was hoping to room with her next year, but I should have known once Evan Adler walked into her life, she was going to be a goner. He is a good egg, and he loves her a lot. Which she deserves. We’re only required to live on campus our freshman year. Though, most of the time, since our team housing is so awesome, people don’t leave. But then, no one is dating someone like Evan. I would leave this housing so quickly to live with someone like him.

Dreamboat.

“Okay. Then go, I’m good. Just gonna poop some more.”

She laughs. It’s so carefree and happy. It usually makes me smile, but right now, I’m freaking the hell out. “Call me if you need me to get something for ya.”

“Thanks, Cal.”

“No problem.” She taps on the door as a goodbye, and I slide down the wall while the tears slide down my face. My heart is beating so hard that my chest hurts. I don’t even know how this happened. I mean, I know how babies are made, but I’m smart. I make sure the guy wears condoms, and I’m on birth control. How is that not enough to make sure I don’t get pregnant? How is this even possible? I thought maybe it was a mistake, but in the trash are four of the other positive pregnancy tests. I toss the one I just took in there, wrapping it up in a bag and tucking it under my legs. I’m not done crying, and I sure as hell don’t know what to do.

I’m not even sure I want kids. Yeah, they’re cute and all, but I want to make sure my career is established and I have a partner to raise the kids with. Damn it, this is so frustrating. I’ve worked so hard for my collegiate sports career. I started gymnastics at eight, which is late for some, but I climbed through the levels of the sport to make my dreams come true. Despite how much my body wanted to quit and how hard it was mentally, I fought. I have always wanted to be a college gymnast. Not only for the love and fun of gymnastics, but for the sisterhood. I love my teammates, and we are family. Yet why do I feel so alone?

I reach for my phone on the counter as I blow snot into a towel. As I throw it down, I open my contacts to call my mom. I’m terrified and I don’t know how she is going to take this, but my mom is honestly my best friend. Surely she’ll have some advice.

She answers right away, her bubbly voice filling the line. “Hey, baby doll!”

“Mom,” I say with a sob, and insane concern immediately fills her voice.

“Cam?”

Within seconds, my FaceTime is ringing, and when I answer it, her eyes are wide. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

Another sob racks me as my body shakes. I try to talk, but it isn’t working. I can’t form words, even though I know what I need to say. I start to take in little spurts of air, and I can tell she is trying not to freak out. “Cammy, baby doll, breathe. It’s okay. Breathe.”

She starts to breathe with me, forcing me to regulate my breaths as I close my eyes, feeling like I have no control over anything. I lean the phone on the leg of the pedestal sink, and I rub my face hard, trying to rub the fear out of my body. When I open my eyes, my mom is watching me, and I wish she were here.

“Take your time, my love. It’s okay. No matter what, you can achieve anything.”

I close my eyes once more, and her positivity brings on my guilt. All the time and money she has spent on my career may be down the drain. Oh my God, I hope she isn’t mad.

“Mom, I’m pregnant,” I blurt out, and her jaw drops as another sob leaves my lips. “And I don’t understand how this happened because he used a condom and I’m on birth control.”

I want to say more, but I don’t want to make the situation even worse. She has to know I am scared, that I am freaking out, that I’m seeing my whole life circling the drain. A baby is supposed to be a happy occasion. But for one, I don’t love its dad, and for two, I don’t want a child right now. Or ever. I don’t know. It’s not fair; I did everything I’m supposed to.

She drops her head in her hands, and she shakes it slowly. I don’t have to see her face to know she is disappointed. “Oh, Cameron,” she says, and I know she’s upset. She never calls me Cameron. It’s always baby doll or different variations on my name. Fuck me. “Remember when I told you to be careful when you were on those antibiotics? For that sinus infection?”

I wrinkle my face in confusion. “Yeah. What does that have to do with this?”

“Cameron, when you’re on antibiotics, it can mess with your birth control.”

I break out in another sob. “That is the stupidest, most unfair thing in the world!”

“The world isn’t fair, baby doll.”

She’s got that right.

My body shakes with another sob. “Mom, what do I do?”

I meet her gaze, and she looks just as hopeless as I do. “I mean, your spot on the team will be gone if you don’t show up at summer training camp.”

I drop my head into my hands. I know this, but maybe… She starts talking again. “I know it says in the contract that you can apply again—and I know you’ll get back on—but that’s only with a medical issue or an injury. Pregnancy is not a reason for taking a year off. I’ll ask Daddy to get some sort of note from a colleague. Lord knows he’s fibbed to help them a time or two.” I swallow hard as she continues. When she gets anxious, she taps her lip, and it’s almost as if I can see the thoughts racing through her mind. “We’ll help you and get you where you need to be. I’ll raise the baby until you are able to.”

My heart aches as I whisper, “Or I could get an abortion.”

Her finger stops mid-tap as she meets my gaze. “An abortion?”

“Yeah,” I say with a shrug. “Why bring a child into this world that I don’t want?”

“Because it’s God’s will.”

I press my lips together. “But it’s not mine.”

“Cameron, when I got pregnant with you, I didn’t abort you.”

She can’t even hide the pain in her eyes. “No, Mom, but you struggled with carrying and raising a rapist’s child.”

Her look mirrors mine, her lips pressed together and her eyes full of tears. “I love you.”

“I know, and I love you more than I could ever put into words. Honestly, Mom, I do. But it is unfair that you were forced to have a child by your family because it’s ‘God’s will,’ and then when you had me, you were not taken care of. I know you’ve still got resentment, Mom. I know you blamed your pregnancy with me as the reason you were never able to conceive with Daddy.”

Tears roll down my mom’s face, and each one is like a knife in my back. My mom was molested and raped by the pastor of her church when she was seventeen. She was told she had to have the baby. He promised if she never told, he would take care of her. When I was born, he took his wife and family to another city, and she never heard from or saw him again. When she announced he was the father, her family disowned her.

“How dare you tempt a man of God?”

He was forty-one.

She was seventeen.

I have feelings about this.

My mom struggled, oh-so badly, for seven years. She would work any job with me on her back, or with me under the table coloring or drawing when she had her bank job. No, she wasn’t a teller. She was a custodian. I remember when Grandma White walked in to do some banking business and saw me on the bench, reading. She sat beside me and asked where my parents were. I told her I had no daddy, but my momma was over there, cleaning the window. My mom made all her own cleaning solutions, and soon, they got into a discussion about it. I remember watching them laugh and carry on.

That night, when we got to McDonald’s, my mom told me that Grandma White had asked her to come clean at her property. How it was an incredible opportunity, and she was excited. I was excited because she was.

But nothing could have prepared me for that property. Four mansions sat on that estate, and the gardens reminded me of the queen’s gardens in Alice in Wonderland. They had a mansion for each son, and then one for Grandma and Grandpa White. Everything screamed old, blue blood money, and I was scared to even touch anything.

So, I didn’t.

I’d sit in my corner, or I’d go out in the gardens to play.

It’s crazy how my life began compared to now and all the amazing things that have happened in between. But nothing can ever touch the first time I saw him.

My daddy. Charles White.

I didn’t even know my mom had given me one of his shirts when I’d spilled grape juice on mine. When he walked up to me, an eye cocked and an easy smile on his face, I wasn’t scared; I felt at ease. My daddy is a charmer, and he loved me from the jump.

He always tells people, “I knew she was special the moment I saw her in my Metallica shirt, but nothing, and I mean nothing, could have prepared me for when I saw my LillyJane.”

It’s a real rags-to-riches love story and one of my favorites. I don’t think I’ll ever have a love story like theirs, but a girl can dream. Mom and Daddy have loved me hard, and sometimes I think it’s because they couldn’t have any more kids. Sometimes I feel like I was blamed for that. Mine wasn’t an easy birth, and she was so young but she never came out and told me that. Apparently, Daddy is infertile too.

“Cameron, that’s all in the past.”

“Yes, but this is my future, and I refuse to have a child that I’ll resent. I know it’s not my fault, but this isn’t what I want. And that may be selfish, but I don’t want this to not be an option. I know I am taken care of, I know you and Daddy would move mountains for me, and for this baby. But I’m not ready to move mountains for anyone but myself. I’m not ready to be a mom.”

“I told you we’d raise the baby, Cam,” she says, her voice flat.

“But I don’t want you to, nor do I want to give up a year of my college career. I’ve worked so hard for this.”

“Cameron, this baby was conceived for a reason.”

“Yeah, faulty birth control and super sperm from its dad.”

I’m met with silence, and my stomach twists. “Have you told the father?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t know if I will.”

“Cameron. You need to. At least see what he wants to do. Maybe if you had some support, you’d feel better.”

“It’s not about support, Mom. I don’t need anyone for that. It’s about my dreams and aspirations. A child will not add to those right now, and that’s not fair to it.”

I’m met with a disappointed silence and a look that makes it clear she is not happy. “I want you to think long and hard about this before you make the decision.”

“I know, Mom,” I say, wiping my face.

“And know that I love you, no matter what,” she says, holding my gaze. “But I don’t agree with an abortion. I understand that you don’t want to lose your career, but maybe you should not have had sex.”

I close my eyes, and I know that the anger burning inside me is brought on by fear.

And that my mom is being kinda bitchy.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have. But I did, and now I have to figure this out.”

“Yes, you do.”

We stare at each other for a while, and then I decide to end the call without saying goodbye. One reason being because my heart is broken, and the other is because I feel betrayed by her. Doesn’t she want better for me? I know she didn’t get to choose, but I do have the choice.

Shouldn’t I be able to make it?

CHAPTER TWO

BENSON

I CARRY the puck up the ice, my lungs burning and my heart pounding in my chest. This is just a practice, but playing for Jayden Sinclair is no joke. He is an alumnus of the University of Bellevue, and he also played in the NHL until injury made him retire. He has a chip on his shoulder now, and he is dead set on proving to everyone that he is not done with hockey. Not only is he driven, but he has structure like no other. He isn’t here to play around. He wants a winning team, and if you aren’t here to win, get the fuck off the ice.

He said that.

Day one.

He may be a nice guy off the ice, a family man who loves hard, but on the ice, he is the boss. We will be our best, or again, get the fuck off the ice. It’s that simple, which is why it’s hard for me not to be on every time I skate on this ice. I want my dream. The NHL.

I was blessed with the opportunity to live and train with the greatest hockey family in the world, the Adlers. Being in the USA, not only do I miss my family in Quebec, but I am reminded daily why I am here. The NHL. That’s it. I come from a very poor background, and the only reason I was able to play hockey, a very expensive sport, is because of town funding. Thankfully, I’m a natural talent, and then I was lucky enough to be chosen by the Adlers through a billet program for hockey players who want to play in the USA.

Things have been moving a million miles a second since I arrived here. It’s been a whirlwind, but I love the US and I love hockey. Plus, the food is good and the girls are hot.

As I go top shelf on our goalie, hitting the back of the net, I skate back, jumping on the defense. This is endurance training; we don’t stop. We continue to play, and though I can’t breathe, I won’t give up. As I skate back, I notice a very special someone sitting in the stands. My billet mom, Elli Adler. She is a proud mom of five—and then me. I swear, the moment I came into her home, I was her child. She has learned French for me, and while she’s not that good, I still appreciate the gesture. She has done it mostly to communicate with my mom and dad. She cooks all my favorite foods and doesn’t make me do my own laundry. My parents love her, and I do too. Very much so.

I flash her a grin but only for a second before my eyes are back on the play. When a teammate tries to deke around me, I poke check the puck and carry it up the ice on a breakaway, hitting the back of the net with ease. It’s kind of unfair that I’m up against the backup goalie, but I’m enjoying the goals. It’s the end of the year, and most teams aren’t practicing at all, but Coach Sinclair says hockey is a year-round sport. He may be onto something. I’m used to taking breaks, but I can tell I’m getting better with the extra ice time.

I am going home in a few days for the summer, but Elli and Coach have already set up transportation and coaching for the next town over. I’ll train all summer while still working on my family’s llama farm.

Things weren’t good when my family found out I was coming to America. They wanted me to play in Canada, but I needed to get out. My brothers played, but I had to go. Since I’ve been gone, though it’s taken time, we’ve smoothed everything over and are speaking again.

It’ll be a busy summer, but I’m looking forward to it. I like having things to do. Our town has three hundred people, and the next-closest farm is twenty-four miles away. It can get lonely at home. Especially now that only my mom and dad are there since my other brothers have moved away.

When the whistle blows, I skate back into the boards, sucking air so I don’t fall over. Most mirror me as Coach comes to the middle of the ice, nodding. “Great job. Very proud of y’all. Listen, hydrate before you get off the ice, and then hit the showers. We have morning skate and then dinner tomorrow to say goodbye. If you haven’t already, make sure you let me know if you’re staying this summer. Have a good day.”

He smacks his stick to the ice, and we do the same before we all slowly head to the bench to hydrate. I lean on the boards, knowing if I sit down, I may not get up. My legs are Jell-O.

I squirt a heavy flow of Gatorade into my mouth as Philly Reilcango leans into me. With labored breath, he says, “Hey, isn’t that your girly friend?”

I follow the direction he is looking, and I see her standing by the entrance to the rink.

Cameron.

I don’t know her last name, mainly because we really don’t talk about our lives outside of school. We talk about our college classes, sports, and then we hook up. I like her a lot; I want to date her, but she says she’s not really into that. She’s pretty focused on school, and neither of us wants to do long-distance during the summer. I thought when we hooked up last week, that was our goodbye; I’m actually surprised she’s here. I’m sort of alarmed by how good it is to see her. She’s gorgeous, with long, flowing blond hair and deep brown eyes. She reminds me of a porcelain doll. So pretty and fair.

A smile moves across my lips, and she gives me a small one, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Sure is. I thought she had headed home.”

“Guess not,” Philly says as I finish my Gatorade. I tuck the bottle into my glove and head through the bench doors and out the side, instead of going down the tunnel. Before I can reach Cameron, though, Elli is leaning over the rail.

“Looking good out there. Are we still good for lunch?”

I had forgotten, but I don’t let her know that. “Absolutely. Can I go talk to my friend first?”

She looks over to where Cameron is standing, very uncomfortable. Is she upset? “Oh. Of course.” Elli then leans in. “She is very pretty. Isn’t that Callie’s friend?”

Callie is her son’s girlfriend and Cameron’s best friend. I nod, wiping the sweat off my forehead. “She is. Do I stink?”

“Oh, to the high heavens,” she teases, patting my chest. “I’ll go wait in the car. I’m sure you’ll shower?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be a few. I can meet you there?”

“No,” she says, waving me off. “Just be good, and I’ll see you at the car.”

I laugh, and she gives me that mom wink. The one that says “Don’t get in any trouble.” She heads down the bleacher stairs, and before I head to Cameron, I decide not to set my gear down there since I don’t want to get yelled at by Coach. I make my way to where Cameron is standing. She looks unsure of herself, which is weird. She’s usually so confident, and that quality is what draws me to her. That and her mouth. She has these thick-ass lips that consume me.

Shit, I think I’ve missed her.

“Hey,” I call as I come up to her. “I thought you were heading home?”

She wrings her fingers together. “Next week. I have one more exam tomorrow.”

“Oh, cool. I have one tomorrow too.”

“When do you leave?”

“Sunday.” She nods slowly, and I eye her. I may not know much about American girls, but I can read someone. Something is off. “You good?”

When she looks up at me, her eyes are full of tears. “I need to speak to you about a private matter.”

I bring in my brows. “Now?”

“If possible. I saw Mrs. Adler, though, so I don’t know if you have plans.”

I look up toward where she just walked out. “Yeah, we have lunch plans. But if it’s important, then I’ll cancel.”

A tear falls down her face. “I’d appreciate that.”

I reach out, wiping her tear, and then another one falls. I know I stink, but I can’t stop myself. I wrap my arms around her, holding her close to me. Usually, girls move far from me when I get done on the ice, but she wraps her arms around me. When the sob leaves her body, my heart stops. I move my lips into her hair, kissing her ear. “Are you okay?”

“Not really. I’m freaking out,” she whispers. I don’t know what’s wrong or how it involves me, but my stomach feels like it’s turning inside out.

She pulls back, and I let her go. “You really smell.”

I nod, unable to laugh. “I do. Can I shower? Or do you want to talk now?”

She swallows. “I can wait a few.”

“Okay,” I say, and then I reach out, squeezing her hand. “Give me five.”

She only nods, wiping her face free of the tears as I head to the locker room. Mrs. Adler is upset that I’m canceling, but we plan dinner instead. The dinner will cut into my study time, but I’ll be fine. I’ve aced this class; I don’t even need to take the exam, but I don’t want my GPA to drop.

I move faster than I normally do in the locker room. After practice, I like to let the hot water run down my body and relax, but I’m truly worried about Cameron. I get dressed in my Bullies tee and shorts and say bye to the guys before heading out.

I find Cameron sitting in the bleachers as the Zamboni cleans the ice. She looks up from her phone as I come to where she is. I drop down beside her, and I tuck my hands under my thighs since it’s chilly in here. I thought maybe we’d go somewhere else, but I don’t want to make her even more uncomfortable.

“Sorry it took me so long.”

She shook her head. “No, you’re fine. I was just talking to my mom.”

Cameron looks away, taking a deep breath, and her anxiety is coming off her and crashing into me. I’m unsure what the hell is going on, but I don’t have to wait long to find out.

“I’m pregnant.”

I feel like I’ve been kicked square in the junk without a cup. “Sorry. Did you say you’re pregnant?”

She doesn’t look at me as the tears come down faster, and she nods. “Yeah.”

“But we always use condoms, and you said you take a pill.”

I take in a shaky breath, my heart pounding as I watch her profile. I can tell she is freaking the fuck out. “I know, but I guess when I was on antibiotics for that sinus infection, it affected the birth control.”

I’m completely stunned, but I remember when she was sick. We watched Netflix and ate a lot of soup. And had sex, obviously. “Well, fuck,” I blurt out, and instantly, I feel awful. “Sorry, I’m sure that’s not the reaction you want.”

“I felt the same way.”

I swallow hard as I look out at the ice. It’s almost as if I have tunnel vision, and slowly the ice is disappearing, along with my career. Or maybe I’m overthinking it. I can have a kid and still play, but her career… She has one of the highest scholarships for her gymnastics, and now that’s ruined.

Nothing will change for me, but everything will change for her.

I just sit there, unsure what to say. Or even what to think. I can see the fear on her face and feel it. “How long have you known?”

“Two days.”

“Oh, wow. Okay.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Understandable.”

“I knew I had to before you went home.”

“Yeah,” I say, swallowing again. My parents are going to freak, and Elli is going to smack me. This is not how my life is supposed to play out. I’m supposed to get to the NHL before I knock anyone up. Nonetheless, I know what I need to do. “Cameron, I’m here for you. I’ll support you and the baby.”

She bites her lip, closing her eyes. “I know. It never crossed my mind that you wouldn’t, Benny.”

I reach out, taking her hand in mine. “We’re going to be fine.”

She releases my hand, and Cameron drops her head in her hands as a sob rips through her. I reach over, pulling her into me, rubbing her back. “Do you want to get married?”

She lets out a loud laugh, and it echoes through the rink. “God, no. We’re babies.”

“Babies having babies,” I say, not taking offense to her saying no. I don’t really want to get married anyway. I would if she wanted, and I’d put her first. She’s a cool-ass chick, and we have fun together. I don’t know how we’ll work it out, but we will. I’m not going to leave her hanging. “Have you told your parents?”

“Yeah,” she says softly. “They’re upset.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” she says with a sigh. “I’ve been going back and forth for the last two days, and I have too much to lose by keeping it.”

As another sob tears through her, I go over what she just said, unsure what she means. I may be getting more fluent in English, but I truly don’t understand her wording. Before I can ask her what she means, she meets my gaze, and my heart breaks in my chest. She is so scared, and I hate that she feels that way. Aren’t babies supposed to be exciting?

“I can’t lose my scholarship or my career that I’ve worked so hard for.” She struggles with her words, crying and hiccupping. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to me. I don’t want this to force us to be something, when we both have so much life ahead of us.”

I slowly nod. “I understand that, but I’m a part of this. I made the baby, too.”

She swallows hard. “I know, and I’m so sorry.”

“Cameron. Don’t apologize. It happened. We’ll deal.”

She meets my gaze. “I’m getting an abortion on Monday.”

Once more, air is knocked out of me as I stop my hand on her back, mid-rub. “Oh.”

Cameron looks away. “I was going to do it and not tell you, but I didn’t think that was right. I guess I just…” She pauses as she wipes her face. “My parents aren’t being very supportive, but I knew you’d understand.”

I look away, back at the ice again. I take a deep breath, unable to speak.

“Please don’t hate me,” I hear her whisper. “I honestly don’t know how I am going to walk into that clinic and do this, but I have to. I can’t bring a kid into the world right now. I’m not ready to be a mom, and I sure as hell don’t want to hate the kid for existing. It didn’t ask to be born, this was our doing, but I want to be able to give my kid a good life. I don’t think we can right now.”

She’s right, but I’ve always been taught that abortion is wrong. I honestly never understood that opinion. The way I think, everyone has the choice to do what they want with their body.

“I know you’re probably thinking I’m selfish, but even if I were to keep it and give it up for adoption, I would lose my scholarship and my spot in the program. It’s not about the tuition money. It’s about the hard work I’ve put in to get where I am.”

I slowly bring my gaze back to hers. “I’m not thinking about any of that, Cam.”

Her watery gaze bores into mine. “You’re not?”

“Not at all,” I say softly, lacing our fingers together. “I was always told how wrong it is, and how only sluts and whores get them because they’re out there fucking everything, but that’s not the case at all. We took the precautions we were supposed to, and thankfully, you do have a choice. My life wouldn’t change, I’d pay monthly, and my time would be given to you and the baby, but everything would change for you. So, I get it, and I support you.”

Her lip wobbles. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Cameron. And if you change your mind, I’ll support you then too.”

“I know,” she says. When she looks up at me, her chocolate-brown eyes are drowning in her tears. “I don’t know if you’d want to, but could you go with me?”

Once more, I’m unable to catch my breath. “I fly out Sunday. Maybe I can get it changed. I’m not sure. The Adlers paid for my flight, and I don’t know if I want to tell them.”

She shakes her head violently. “No, don’t. I don’t want it getting back to Evan,” she says, speaking of Mrs. Adler’s son. “I haven’t even told Callie yet.”

“Are you going to?”

“Yeah, I need someone to go with me.”

“It should be me,” I say, guilt flooding me.

“It’s okay. Just please don’t tell anyone. I’m so embarrassed that this has happened, and I don’t want it getting back to Coach, or anyone, really.” Ah, okay. That makes sense for why she doesn’t want Evan to know. He works for the gymnastics team she’s on. That’s how he and Callie met. She leans her head into my shoulder and whispers, “I’m scared.”

I let go of her hand and pull her closer as her body shakes with sobs. “I know, I am too. But like you said, it’s for the best.”

Or at least, I think it is.

CHAPTER THREE

BENSON

“YOU SEEM SUPER DISTRACTED TONIGHT, Benny. Everything okay?”

I don’t look at Elli as she drives me back on campus. I didn’t study at all when I got home, nor did Cameron. We went back to my room at the hockey house and just lay in bed. We didn’t talk about the pregnancy or even what we were feeling. We just lay there. Silent.

I’m unsure how I feel about the whole thing. A part of me is sad, but then another part of me is relieved. I’m also battling the guilt. I looked into changing my flights, but I don’t have the money to do so. Also, I’d have to explain to my parents why I’m coming later, and then I’d have to tell my coach and Elli since I’m supposed to start training Tuesday.

I just don’t know what to do, and all the emotions are riding me hard. I guess I should have talked more about it with Cameron since we are both going through the same thing. But I didn’t get the feeling she wanted to talk about it. I sure don’t know what to say to make her feel better, and I think she’s dealing with a lot of guilt right now. Her parents aren’t happy, and I get that. I know my parents wouldn’t be. They’d want me to talk her out of it, but I can’t. It’s not my body. Not my choice. Even if it were, I think I would make the same choice.

Cameron is right; we’re young, and we have a lot of things going on that we’ve worked hard for. I can almost hear my mom, “If you lie down with someone for a few minutes of pleasure, then be ready for the lifetime of responsibilities a child will bring.” She’s right and I was ready, but what can I do when the person who is actually carrying the child doesn’t want to? I can’t force her to keep it, nor would I.

Man, this is all just so much.

I realized I haven’t answered Elli when she says, “Benny? Did you hear me?”

“Yes. Sorry, Mrs. Elli,” I apologize. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“Are you okay?”

I shrug. “Physically, I’m sore from practice, but mentally, I’m a bit screwed.”

She pulls into the Bullies’ hockey team house, and as she puts the car in park, she looks over at me. “Do you need to talk about it?”

I do. But I can’t betray Cameron. “Can I ask you a favor?”

Her caring green gaze doesn’t leave mine. “Of course.”

“Can you change my flight to either Monday night or Tuesday?”

She draws her brows in. “I’m sure I can. Is everything okay?”

I don’t want to lie to her, but I also can’t tell her the truth. “I need to do something Monday that I didn’t know about before you booked the flight.”

Her eyes search mine. “Okay,” she drags out. “Are you in trouble?”

“No,” I lie, and I know I’m not, but I wasn’t playing when I said I would support Cameron. “I need to take care of something, and please don’t be offended that I’m not telling you what that is.”

She holds my gaze, and then to my surprise, she asks, “Is she pregnant?”

I almost choke on my tongue. “Who?”

“The girl who was waiting for you. I saw her crying outside the rink, and I heard her say on the phone, ‘I don’t know how I am going to tell him.’”

My heart speeds up. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t,” she promises, and I believe her. “Is she keeping it?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“How does that make you feel?”

“A lot of things,” I admit. “I’m scared because she’s scared about going to the clinic, but I want to be there for her.”

“Can I ask something, and will you tell me the truth?”

“Yes.”

“Did you ask her to get the abortion?”

“No, she told me she wasn’t keeping it.”

She lets out a long breath. “I see.”

“She didn’t want my approval, just my support.”

After a moment, she asks, “Did you want her to keep it?”

“I don’t think so. We aren’t even together, just fooling around.” When I realize what I’ve said, I correct myself. “She was on antibiotics, and it messed with her birth control. I used a—”

“Benson, it doesn’t matter,” she says, cutting me off. “What matters is that you support what she wants to do. Since it’s her body, not yours.”

I nod. “That’s what I said. My life doesn’t change, but hers does.”

“Exactly—and completely.” She reaches over, taking my hand in hers. “I’m very proud of you, and I’ll figure out your flights.”

I swallow past the emotion in my throat. “Thank you, Mrs. Elli.”

She squeezes my hand, and as I get out of the car, I feel much better. This isn’t how I expected my freshman year to end, but it doesn’t matter.

I’ll be there for the girl I care for.

The one I lay with.

The one I didn’t realize had left a mark on my heart.

CHAPTER FOUR

CAMERON

WHEN I GET BACK to my room, Evan, Callie’s boyfriend, is leaving.

“Hey, Cam.”

“Hey,” I mutter as I move past him. I cried the whole way here, and I don’t want him seeing my splotchy red face. Not only is Evan a dreamboat, but I don’t want him asking what’s wrong. Before he can say anything back, I walk past him into my room, shutting the door. Callie looks back at me and holds out her phone.

“Did you see the text?”

I furrow my brow and bring my purse around to find my phone. It’s at the bottom of my bag, of course. When I look at the screen, I see some missed calls from my parents, a text from Benny, and one from our RA, Molly. I ignore my parents to read Benny’s first.

Benson: Hey, send me info for Monday. I’m doing everything I can to be there.

My heart squeezes in my chest, and I swear, in another life, I would date that guy. It’s just not the right time for us, and that’s okay. Maybe one day in the future. Maybe when the pain and guilt of the abortion aren’t lingering between us. He’s a good dude, but it’s just not the time.

When I go to the text from Molly, I’m utterly confused.

“Team meeting?” I ask, looking up at Callie. She shrugs. “Not everyone is here.”

She nods. “Yeah, someone probably left some trash out or something stupid. I am ready to head to South Carolina, and I know you’re ready to go home at this point.”

“Sure,” I say offhandedly since that’s the last place I want to go. “Maybe I’ll come home with you for a bit.”

She nods. “Yeah, you’re more than welcome.”

I don’t commit, though. More than likely, I’ll go home. Face the music and be bitched at because I chose my life over this fetus. Maybe I need to be bitched at. Maybe I am an awful person. Who the fuck knows? I just want to be done with all this. I throw my bag down, all up in my feelings, and follow Callie out of the room. I don’t say much as I send the address to Benny. He says everything is still up in the air, but he’s going to try his best to be there. I appreciate him immensely. I’m so distracted by our text thread that when I sit down and look up to find Coach in the living room, I’m completely caught off guard.

What. The. Fuck.

I can’t breathe, and I feel a full-blown panic attack coming. Coach doesn’t look happy or even his usual unwelcoming self. He just looks pissed. He has his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes dark as he stands beside Molly, eyeing the eight of us that are still here after the third day of finals. Since we have such high GPAs, most don’t need to take their exams, and some even do it virtually. A lot of the girls went to Alaska to take summer jobs, which are mainly the girls who left right after the season ended.

“Sorry for the abrupt meeting, ladies,” Coach announces. “We have an issue that needs to be addressed, but I want to stress that nothing is allowed to leave this room. We are a family, and we’ll handle this as a family.”

Oh, fuck me.

I watch as his and Molly’s gazes fall on Callie and me, and I immediately look away. Surely I’m overthinking this. No one knows. How could they?

“Five positive pregnancy tests were found in Callie and Cameron’s bathroom.”

There is a sharp intake of breath around the room, and Callie goes still beside me. I feel her gaze move across my face, and I don’t dare look up.

“The cleaning lady found them wrapped in pads and stuffed in a box.”

Jesus, was she searching us?

“She is trained to look through everything for drugs, in case you’re wondering.”

Well, okay.

I feel Callie’s hand move into mine as my eyes start to well up with tears. She laces our fingers together, and I squeeze her hand, so thankful for her support.

“Callie, are you pregnant?”

“No,” she answers.

“Cameron?”

I can’t answer, nor can I look up. When another teammate, Lana Demile, scoots beside me and takes my other hand, I come undone. She rubs my back, and more and more, I feel my teammates holding me or rubbing my skin. I can’t see; my tears are so heavy and roll down my face with a vengeance. Callie’s cheek presses against mine, and I hiccup a sob. “It’s okay. We’re okay,” she murmurs.

I swallow hard as I lean into her, needing her support. When I finally look up, my coach and Molly are blurry as I whisper, “Yes.”

Coach closes his eyes as he looks away, and Molly looks pained. “Oh, Cameron.”

“My mom thinks my birth control was compromised when I was on those antibiotics last month.”

Callie, being Callie, continues to rub my back and hold me close. She keeps saying over and over again that “It’s okay,” but we all know it’s not.

“You know you can’t be on the team pregnant, or take time—” Molly starts, but Coach cuts her off.

“This is not the time to talk about that. We are here to support our teammate,” he says sternly, and Molly snaps her mouth shut.

No one says anything for a few moments until Miley Adams asks, “So, what can we do to help you?”

My lip wobbles as I shrug. “Nothing. I have an appointment on Monday.”

Callie kisses my cheek. “I’ll go with you.”

“So will I,” Lana says.

“Me too,” Molly says, and my heart tightens in my chest.

“An appointment? I think we mean, do you need help cleaning out your locker?” Shantae Miller says from next to Coach. She sits with Miley, and the look on her face is one of pure disgust. Shantae is a very driven person, very “nothing will hold her back,” and while I am the same, I’m pretty sure she now thinks I’m a piece of trash.

“For an abortion,” I answer as strongly as I can. “I am in no way ready to be a parent, and neither is the guy.”

Nothing is said for another moment as everyone processes the seriousness of the situation.

“So, what you’re saying is, you’re killing your kid because you’re not ready?” Shantae asks, her eyes throwing daggers at me.

“Miller, that’s uncalled for,” Coach scolds, and she tosses her hands up.

“There are plenty of people who would want that baby,” Shantae snaps at me. “You just don’t want to lose your spot on the team.”

Beside me, Callie goes tight. “And? That’s her choice,” she says loudly. “People who want kids can apply to be a foster parent and get one. The foster care system is overloaded with children. Most with special needs. She is, what, a month?” she asks me, and I nod. “Yeah, the fetus is the size of a grain of rice and can’t even survive on its own. You don’t get to make her feel bad.”

Shantae holds her hands up. “Whoa, Callie. I get that she is your friend and you have to defend her, but this isn’t someone drinking her almond milk. This is her killing a baby for her gymnastics career.”

“And?” Lana asks. “It’s her body.”

Coach puts up his hand, and everyone goes quiet. “This isn’t a debate we are having. It is Cameron’s choice what she does, and we are all going to support her because she is our teammate. You don’t have to agree with her choice, but it’s hers. No one else’s.”

Molly nods. “Which clinic?”

I clear my throat, emotionally fucked at this point. “The one in Woodbridge.” I look down at my hands that are held by my teammates, my sisters. “It’s the one that doesn’t have as many protesters, so I’m hoping I can get in without feeling even more like shit.”

“You’ll get in,” Molly promises, and she sends me a small smile. “And whoever wants to support our teammate will help.”

Everyone gives sideways glances to Shantae, but I don’t move. Coach clears his throat and says, “Remember, this does not leave this room. It gets out, you’ll have me to deal with.” I close my eyes, completely embarrassed but also thankful for my team. I made a mistake, and instead of being chewed out by my coach, I’m being supported. “All right, clear the room. But not you, Cameron.”

The girls all hug and kiss me before they leave the room, except Shantae. Coach exhales and then clears his throat once more. “Follow me outside.”

I do as he asks, and when we’re outside, he crosses his arms once more, not looking me in the eye. “Was the guy an asshole?”

“Not at all,” I say quickly. “He offered to marry me.”

He scoffs. “Boys are dumb.”

“Eh, so are girls.”

“True,” he says, shaking his head. “You sure? I know what the rules are, but I’d make an exception for you, and I’d make sure you have your scholarship and spot when you get back.”

I hesitate and really consider his words, but I know the truth. “I don’t want to be a mom yet.”

“Understandable. I support whatever you want, but I want you to know you have options.”

I swallow thickly. “Thank you.”

He gives me an awkward side hug. “Do you want me to go with you?”

I shake my head. “I didn’t even want you to know.”

Coach gives me a small smile.

“I didn’t want it to come back on you at all.”

He nods. “I’d walk through fire for my girls, so thank you. But I’ll be there if you want me to be.”

“It’s okay. The girls will go, and the guy is trying to change his schedule to come.”

“Good to know I don’t have to kill anyone today.” I know he says it to make me smile, but I couldn’t if I tried. Coach flashes a strained smile. “Text me if you need me.”

“I will.”

He squeezes my shoulder, and as I watch him head down the pathway toward his car, I am so thankful for him and my team. I am terrified—I probably will be until it’s all over—but I feel a lot better about the choice I’ve made. I found support where I didn’t think I’d have it, and that alone is a powerful feeling.

CHAPTER FIVE

CAMERON

MONDAY COMES ENTIRELY TOO QUICKLY.

I feel like I’m all over the place. I’m scared, I’m embarrassed, and I’m sad. I didn’t hear from Benny all weekend, and I hate how much that hurts my feelings. I refuse to text him first because I don’t want to beg him to be there for me. He doesn’t have to be. I let him off since this was what I chose. Maybe he was just being nice but really doesn’t agree with what I am doing. I don’t know, but it’s hard not to think of every single worst-case scenario when it comes to him. It doesn’t even matter; it isn’t like we’re together or ever will be.

I doubt he’ll ever speak to me again. Not that I blame him.

I look out the window at where anti-choice protesters hold signs and yell things at the pro-choice supporters across the street from them. My appointment is in thirty minutes and I’m supposed to head inside, but I’m struggling with moving. My heart is coming out of my chest, and I feel so sick to my stomach. Callie, Molly, and Lana are trying their best to make me feel comfortable, but even they know I am freaking out. Hell, I think they’re all freaking out. This isn’t a situation we wanted to be in. I sure as hell wish I weren’t.

But here I am.

My mom told me to call her after, even though she spent the morning begging me not to do this. I didn’t tell her what Coach said because then I knew she’d try to talk me out of it. I have to do this. I can’t wait. I already feel the guilt, but I’ve opted in for the counseling through the clinic for women who have abortions. It’s a new program, and I want to make sure I heal right. I don’t want to be fucked up…well, any more than I already am.

I was told not all the girls could come in with me, only walk with me to the front door since they don’t want a lot of people in the waiting room. Molly, Lana, and Callie are gonna wait to take me home, while the other girls from the team will head back once they walk to the door with me. I feel kind of silly, but after watching the anti-choice protesters go after people coming to the clinic, I’m thankful for the girls. I need them. I know if I’m making this choice, I should be proud and stand tall, but I’m scared. I wish my mom were here. I wish Benny were here.

I glance at my phone to see if he has texted, but he hasn’t. Not that I’m surprised.

Hurt? Yeah, for sure.

“Ready?” Molly asks me, and somehow, I nod.

She and Lana get out first, but before I can do the same, Callie takes hold of my hand. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Callie’s face is so kind and sweet, and she nods before she says, “Then, let’s go.”

We get out together, and I bring my ball cap lower on my forehead as I glance back at the car with the other girls. When I see Shantae get out, my eyes widen. She locks eyes with me and gives me a curt smile, and a knot forms in my chest.

She opens her umbrella, just as everyone else does, and comes up to me. “I don’t agree with what you’re doing, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be here for you. You are my sister.”

I feel a twitch in my lip, almost like a sob is fighting to come out, but I can’t allow it to escape. I start crying now, I’ll never stop.

I look to where I’ve been spotted by the anti-choice crows, and my heart kicks up in speed. I have fought past every fear I’ve ever had. Gymnastics is not easy, and it’s sure as hell scary, but I have never given up. I made this choice. My choice. And I have to own it. I force my shoulders back and my chest up, and then I’m surrounded by my teammates with bright rainbow golf umbrellas. A calmness falls over me as Callie and Molly come shoulder to shoulder with me, and then the rest of the team fills in around me.

I hear someone say, “We’ll walk on the outside of you guys,” just as we start the long walk up to the clinic. I think the parking lot needs to be attached to this place, but I will never be back here. I’ll be surprised if I ever have sex again, to be honest. It’s not worth this pain, the tears, or even the mindfuck all this has caused.

I hear people screaming and yelling, but then Callie starts to sing “I Am Woman” by Emmy Meli. Soon, everyone is singing with her, and that’s when the tears start to fall in rivers down my face. I have never felt so loved in my life by a group of girls. This sport is not always kind; it can be very toxic when it comes to the female relationships since everyone is fighting to be on top, but that’s not how it is in college. In college, you’re part of a team. A family. A sisterhood.

I am so thankful for them.

I sing along as best I can, and when people move from in front of me, I find the door is open and a woman is standing there with a clipboard.

“Name?”

“Cameron White,” I say as loud as I can since everyone is still singing at the top of their lungs.

“Okay, Ms. White. Your ride is already inside, waiting.”

“Huh?” I ask, hooking a thumb to Callie. “She’s here.”

The nurse gives me a look and then says, “So, Benson Jeannot isn’t your ride?”

I look past her to see Benny leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He glances up just as I see him, and he pushes off the wall, looking all big and sexy and protective.

“Why didn’t you text me you were here?” he asks as he comes to take my hand.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” I say as he guides me in. I look behind me to find Callie grinning as she waves. She puts her hand to her ear and mouth as if to call her, and I nod as the doors shut.

“I said I would be here.”

“But you didn’t text me all weekend.”

“I wanted to give you space,” he says softly, and then the nurse is asking questions. She hands me an iPad for information, and together, Benny and I sit. His knee is bouncing out of control, almost matching the cadence of my heart. The room is empty and quiet. It’s not as ugly as movies sometimes portray abortion clinics to be. It’s actually really nice and welcoming. Flowers and even a fish tank fill the space where the couches and seats aren’t. I finish the questionnaire on the iPad, and Benny takes it from me to turn in. I watch as they say something to him, and I wipe my eyes when he comes back.

“What did they say?”

“They asked if I was the father.”

“That’s none of their business,” I mutter, and he nods.

“Yeah.”

“What did you say?”

“I said I was.”

We share a look, and something moves in my chest. Before I start crying or fall in love with him, I look away, nodding. We sit for only a second before he asks, “Are you sure?”

“I am.”

“Okay. I would be there for you.”

I only nod, and he wraps an arm around me. I lean my head on his and ask, “Will you still talk to me after this?”

He doesn’t even hesitate. “Of course, Cam.”

“So, you don’t hate me?”

“Never,” he admits. “I’m only worried for you.”

I close my eyes and cuddle into him. “Thank you for being here.”

“You don’t need to thank me. I want to be here.”

We don’t say anything else, and the anxiety of all this is overwhelming. It feels like time is passing slower than ever. I just want this to be over. I want to move on, and I want to forgive myself. I want to never step foot in this place ever again. I want this all to be a distant memory.

“Cameron White?”

I’ve never hated my name so much in my life.

Benny stands before me, and he takes my hand to guide me up. He moves my hair behind my ear and then kisses my lips, surprising the shit out of me. I lean into the kiss, needing it more than I could ever imagine. When he pulls back, our eyes lock, and my heart stops dead in my chest.

“I’ll be here when you come out.”

I swallow past my sob and nod. “Okay.”

I start for the nurse, and his voice follows me. “It’s all going to be okay, Cam. Don’t worry. I’m here.”

My bottom lip wobbles, and I nod as I head through the door. When it slams behind me, I jump at the noise just as my eyes fall on a sign.

You can change your mind.

You have options.

Ask.

No matter, it’s your choice.

I read the words again, and I think the nurse knows what I’m doing, so she gives me a second as I continue to read them, again and again. As the words drown in my tears, I remind myself that I made this choice because what I do with my body is up to me. I have to trust that. I’m still scared, of course. Not of my choice—I know it’s the right one—but of the pain and the fact that I am aborting something I helped make. I never thought I’d have this kind of obstacle to overcome, but I know I will be able to.

I swallow past the sob in my throat just as she asks me, “Are you ready?”

I look over at her, and with all the strength given to me by Benny and my teammates, I say, “Yes, I am.”

And together, we walk to the room.

I am beyond grateful for the people who have been here for me through this, but I am more grateful that this choice is mine. That I am able to make a decision like this, and I have this option. I know there are other options, and maybe one day, I’ll have the choice again, and I may choose differently. But right now, it’s the light at the end of the tunnel, and I’m running for it.

I don’t know what my future holds, but at least it’ll be the future I chose.

About the Author

My name is Toni Aleo, and I’m a #PredHead, #sherrio, #potterhead, and part of the #familybusiness! I am also a wife to my amazing husband, mother of a wrestler and a gymnast, and also a fur momma to Phoebe, Gaston el Papillon & Winston. You can usually find me hollering for the whole Nashville Predators since I’ll never give my heart to one player again.

When I’m not in the gym getting swole, I’m usually writing, trying to make my dreams a reality, or being a taxi for my kids. I’m obsessed with Harry Potter, Supernatural, Disney, and anything that sparkles! I’m pretty sure I was Belle in a past life. and if I could be on any show it would be supernatural so I can hunt with Sam and Dean.

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PUSHING HER BUTTONS

TRACY KRIMMER

MISHA SWORE if one more thing went wrong today, she’d give up on life altogether. She had a lovely apartment with a fantastic view of Lake Michigan, a library card giving her access to thousands of online books and audiobooks, and many food delivery services offered to her. She’d survive without having to be out in public.

Not that she hated people. She just hated them today.

And yesterday.

And probably tomorrow, too.

But hey, one of these days, someone wouldn’t piss her off to the point of no return.

Today was not that day.

With a hefty swing, she pulled her tote bag further up on her shoulder. The weight started digging into her shoulder immediately. Why did she always carry so much with her? She once tried to leave the house with only her wallet and phone, but she felt more naked than the time her swimsuit flung off after a dive into the water from the quarry.

She’d much rather be naked in front of dozens of people than not have her purse. She was anything; if not weird.

Besides, she kept trail mix in there at all times. Sure, she mostly munched on the M&M’s, but who wouldn’t?

She pressed the down button for the elevator. The sooner she got out of this building, the better. She didn’t intend to lose her job today, but she also didn’t expect the customer to be so rude to her on the phone. She had no choice but to be rude right back and eventually hang up.

Too bad her boss didn’t see it that way.

Customer service for an adult toy company proved interesting, while, at the same time, she desperately needed a change.

Misha breathed out loudly, partly a sigh of the realization she’d lost her job, the other that she was finally leaving this god-forsaken place. She couldn’t wait to tear off her high-waist pants and v-neck blouse and slide into yoga pants and a tank.

“Hold the door!” a man’s voice yelled from outside the elevator and down the hall. Misha lifted her gaze from the ground, her vision taking a second to clear after staring into the swirls in the carpet too long.

Crap.

This day could get worse.

Craig Pratt, jerk extraordinaire, was headed her way.

She gasped and repeatedly hit the ‘close doors’ button. “Come on, come on, come on!” As she heard the doors start to close, Craig slid in.

“Wow. You weren’t going to hold the door for me?” Even though she didn’t want to see him, his soothing voice was something she invited.

Misha took a step back. “What gave it away?”

“So that you know, those buttons don’t work how you think they work. The open buttons work, but they phased out the close button years ago.” The door closed on its own. “What’s so bad about me being on this elevator with you, anyway?”

He was kidding, right? Did he have any recollection of the last date they’d been on? It hadn’t exactly ended in the best way. “I don’t have time for this.” Misha didn’t have much of anything to say to him, and even if she did, why waste her breath?

She slammed the Lobby button with her palm, willing the elevator to move faster than usual to get her out of there. They moved down two floors when the elevator stopped suddenly, flinging Misha forward straight into Craig’s chest.

“Are you okay?” Craig put his hands on her shoulders. Misha pulled away into the corner of the darkened elevator, now thick with silence without the easy-listening music filling the space.

“I’m fine. What happened?”

“Not sure. Either the power went out in the whole building, or there is some issue with the elevator.” He clicked the flashlight on his phone and opened the tiny silver door next to the pad of buttons. Misha waited as he picked up the small phone inside.

Misha listened as he connected to the elevator company. He pressed the “Open Doors” button, which made her roll her eyes after his “Close Doors” comment. “Nothing,” he said.

Misha tapped her heel as she waited for Craig to hang up the phone with an update. Why was everything going wrong? What did the world have against her today?

“Finally,” she said, when he hung up the phone. “When are we getting out of here?”

“A few hours.”

“A few hours?” Misha repeated. “Can’t they send someone over now?” She plucked at her blouse as her body warmed to an uncomfortable temperature. Soon the smooth curls in her hair would turn into a snarled mess thanks to her sweat.

“They are short-staffed today, and the one person they have to go out on calls is currently in Madison dealing with another situation. Once he finishes there, he’ll come straight here, but it’s almost a two-hour drive, plus him finishing his work at the other site.”

“Great. Just great.” She yanked her tote off her shoulder and tossed it in the corner. “This is just what I need today.”

She slid down the elevator wall and sat, pulling her knees into her chest. The tears pricked at her eyes, but she refused to allow them through. She was not shedding a tear in front of Craig.

Craig crossed his arms and leaned against the other side. “Tough day, huh?” He kept his flashlight on his phone to provide a little light in the small space, placing it on the ground.

“You could say that.”

“What happened? Did you run out of mascara this morning? Or did you back up into a garbage can or something?”

“Typical. A man making assumptions about a woman. Women aren’t all about makeup, and we’re not all bad drivers. And not that I owe you anything, but for your information, I don’t even wear mascara, and I’ve never gotten so much as a parking ticket.”

“Then what happened?”

She had two choices here. She could ignore him, but he’d probably keep nagging her. Or she could tell him, which was embarrassing, but maybe he’d be quiet if she told the truth. She preferred recounting the story and giving him the opportunity to stop talking.

“I got fired today.” She turned her head toward the wall, not wanting to make any eye contact with him. The small flashlight on his phone gave just enough light for them to see each other. And she didn’t want to see the pity behind his amber eyes.

“Oh. I’m sorry, Misha.” He took a step toward her, then stopped. “Can I sit next to you?”

Misha shrugged.

Taking that as a yes, Craig sat down next to her, the sleeve of his suit jacket grazing her skin. He had a fresh smell to him, zesty and vibrant. Surprisingly, it relaxed her a little, something she desperately needed right now.

“What happened?”

I lost my damn mind, is what she wanted to say. Should she have gone off on the woman on the other end of the line? Probably not. She couldn’t help it, though. She’d hit a breaking point.

“I got into it with a customer. My boss wasn’t having any of it. It’s fine, though. I hated my job. Now maybe I can finally do what I’ve always wanted to do.”

“Which is?”

“Open a boutique specializing in local goods. A place where local small businesses can feature their items, like soaps, teas, and jewelry.” She’d given much thought to it and even wrote out a business plan. She was always too scared to bring it to the light of day. Now, she might not have a choice.

“I like that idea. I think it’s important to support your community, and many of the smaller business owners can’t afford a full storefront, so you’d be helping them bring their products to the forefront.”

“Exactly.”

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. She let the breath out, shaking as she did so.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just starting to feel a little claustrophobic.”

Craig readjusted his place on the hard floor. “I remember you telling me about that.”

“You do?” Misha told the story when she and Craig went on their second date. They’d gone to a fancy Italian restaurant, ate more than their fair share of Bruschetta, and drank too much Pinot Grigio.

“Of course I do. You were playing hide and seek with your little brother and hid in a cabinet. You waited almost an hour before you figured he wouldn’t find you. When you tried to open the door, something had fallen in front of it, and you couldn’t get out. You were stuck for an hour and a half before you were found.”

Her chest tightened, hearing him retell the story. Ever since that day, any closed space she feared getting out of tossed her into a pit of anxiety. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

“I remember everything you told me.”

This admission confused Misha. They had been on five dates—five very good dates—but the sixth date ended in disaster. It mortified her to even think about it.

“I don’t know why. You pretty much wiped your hands clean of me.” However, she couldn’t really blame him.

“What are you talking about?”

“You never called me, and I’m not surprised, actually, after what happened.”

“Don’t you recall what you said to me when I came over to help you?”

“No, I don’t. I had food poisoning, Craig, and had just unloaded my entire meal onto the restaurant floor. I try to forget that day.”

He turned, so he could face her. “I try not to.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to forget any of our dates. I loved the time we spent together. After that happened, you ran out of the restaurant, and when I went after you, you waved me off and told me to leave you alone. So that’s what I did.”

Misha stood and crossed her arms. “I meant for the night. I didn’t mean forever. Sure, I didn’t think you’d call after what happened, but I hoped you would. I thought you were different.”

He stood to meet her. “I wanted to. I still think about you all the time.”

“You do?”

“Yes. I mean, not that exact moment, but all the other times. I really thought we had something.”

Misha couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She had thought the same thing, and after that humiliating event, she wanted to get out of the restaurant as quickly as possible, knowing he’d want nothing more to do with her.

How had she been wrong?

The light on his phone started flickering. “I think your battery is almost out.”

“That’s okay.” He stepped closer to her, the dim light providing enough for her to see into his eyes. “I’m glad I ran into you today and that the door didn’t close on me.”

“Me, too. I’m sorry if I didn’t give you a chance. I really thought you’d never want to see me again.”

“Misha, I like you. I won’t let something like that ruin what we could have. I want to be with you.”

She licked her lips as her heart beat rapidly in the silent, almost dark elevator. “Me, too.”

Craig put his hands against her cheeks, and as the light on his phone completely died, she came alive at the touch of his lips. Misha abandoned her senses and allowed her heart to take over. She clung to him as her body awakened. What started as one of the worst days of her life had turned into something good.

She smiled as they separated from each other, knowing that things were looking up. She’d liked Craig from the second they had their first date and had imagined a future together.

The lights of the elevator flashed on, and the elevator started moving down.

“It’s fixed!” Misha threw her arms around Craig.

“What do you say we have a late lunch?” he suggested.

He reached his hand out, and she took it. When the elevator doors opened, they stepped out into the atrium of the building.

Together.

If you enjoyed Pushing Her Buttons, you might also like The Baker & the Badge.

About the Author

Tracy Krimmer loves coffee, naps, and Drew Barrymore. She recently learned she’s only two degrees of separation from Drew and that made her year. She loves everything 80s and 90s and is not a boomer despite what the younger kids say.

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WHISKEY CHASER

A BLACKSMITH STORY

TRICIA LYNNE

CHAPTER ONE

AVERY

“DICK PRINT, DICK PRINT. TWO O’CLOCK,” Sadie whisper-shouted as we rounded the baggage carousel. “Grey sweatpants!” Her squeal of laughter had me shushing her. I was fairly sure she was still half drunk.

I was a bit hungover myself. And exhausted.

After leaving my old engineering firm in Dallas, moving to New Orleans, opening my own business, and trying to get construction under control in the new loft I shared with my fiancé, I was running on fumes. I also had an office renovation underway in the warehouse district, and I was working out of the loft while BlackSmith––the hard rock band Declan fronted––rehearsed one floor below.

I knew things would be difficult while I got my new engineering firm off the ground and relocated to a new city to––to move in with the hottest frontman to ever hold a mic. But joining a design team to bid on the development of a new surgical wing for a hospital back in the Dallas was probably overly ambitious. Petty bitch that I was, I could not resist the opportunity to give the sexist dickheads at the firm I used to work for a big ol’ fuck you.

I’d won the job, but I was still hiring staff, and lining up projects to keep them busy, and traveling for project interviews.

Rubbernecking around the baggage carousel, I recognized the guy attached to the dick print and slapped Sadie’s shoulder. “Dude. We know that dick print, and he’s like a brother to both of us.”

Sadie snorted. “But he’s not actually. Jamie is smoking hot. Admit it.” The wife of BlackSmith’s ginormous bassist couldn’t stop laughing.

The band and their significant others were a tight knit family. There was little we didn’t know about each other. But as my best friend Kat once said––the men of BlackSmith had definitely won the gene pool Olympics.

Still, I’d been hoping to see my fiancé’s close-cropped head and emerald-green eyes instead of lead guitarist Jamie’s white-blonde hair and cool-blue eyes.

The extra days in Dallas after the project interviews had taken it out of me, but I wanted to do the march for reproductive rights through downtown with Kat and Sadie. I ’d been missing my bestie, Kat. She’d only visited me here in NOLA once since the infamous girl’s trip to the Crescent City. And she’d been very careful to do it while Jamie was out of town. It made for a long weekend, but I didn’t regret it.

Declan owned a hard rock club he was having a hard time keeping staffed, and he’d been covering a lot of shifts at Whiskey Moon. That’s probably where he was. Sometimes you just wanted your person though, and we’d been spending little time together.

As the carousel belched up our suitcases, Jamie lifted them off the belt. “Damn, sweet cheeks. You two look like you’re still half wasted.” His smooth tenor soothed my aching head and that smile…

People were staring. They always did. Looking at Jamie was like gazing at a solar eclipse. Folks couldn’t help but gawk even if it scarred their eyes. The fair complexion, the white-blond hair. His face was perfection, and his lean, muscled frame was billboard worthy. Throw in the grey sweats and a t-shirt that said, “farting when you sneeze is a sign of inner balance,” and people gawked. Jamie glanced over the crowd waiting for their bags like I might have talked Kat into coming back with me.

“Where’s Declan? Did he get stuck at Whiskey Moon?”

“He got tied up. I wasn’t doing anything. Where’s my hugs?”

Sadie and I both cuddled into his trim waist, overlapping our arms.

By the time we’d gotten clear of airport traffic, she was passed out on the back seat of Jamie’s truck, snoring.

“You want to ask me about her.” It wasn’t a question. He knew exactly who I meant.

Crystal-blue eyes briefly glanced at me. “That obvious?”

“You looked like you were hoping I’d stuffed Kat in my carry-on.” I wasn’t sure what went down between Kat and Jamie while Declan and I were making up in Austin, but they weren’t sharing.

The grin slipped from his lips.

I didn’t push. “I’m here when you’re ready.”

“I know.” He slid his free hand over mine and squeezed. “You’re a good friend.”

Jamie turned the radio up and let Louis Armstrong drown out the silence. Leaning my head back against the cracked leather, I closed my eyes and dozed.

I missed my fiancé. Not just this weekend, but all the time. His scent and warmth. His stubble rasping against my fingernails and thighs. How we’d talk for hours about everything under the sun. Even just cuddling against each other on the couch while we read or watched a movie.

I finally had an evening to spend with him and he’d had to go to the club. Damn. We weren’t making each other a priority. And it wasn’t just him. I was guilty, too. Maybe more so. I lived with the man, but never got to spend time with him, and it was hurting my soul. Relationships ebbed and flowed––they weren’t all fire all the time or they’d burn out, but that didn’t stop me from feeling bad. I’d moved here to be with him and never saw him.

To steal a line from Deadpool, maximum effort. That’s what we needed right now. Our happily ever after was worth it. Deciding I’d get changed and go to Whiskey Moon, I grinned to myself. I’d take a shift with my fiancé and steal a quickie in the office.

“What are you smiling about?” Jamie interrupted my thoughts. We’d dropped Sadie off and pulled to a stop outside the old mill building in Bywater that we both lived in. Jamie owned the building. We planned on converting it into luxury lofts, but that was on the back burner for now.

“Nunyabizness.” I swung down from the truck while he pulled my suitcase from the bed. The Mercury Lead Sled parked around the side of the building caught my eye. “I thought you said Declan was at the club?”

Jamie grinned. “I didn’t say that.”

Hmm.

The industrial elevator creaked to a stop, and I pulled the door open to the smell of spices thick in the air.

“Hey, sweetness! How was the trip??” His gravelly, true-bass voice hit me right where it always did. In the panties. The door slammed closed, and I let my carry-on sit where it was next to the exposed brick wall.

Declan sauntered across the original wood floors with bare feet and pulled me into his arms.

Declan McGinn had been a boxer once upon a time, and it was obvious in every line of his body, every elegant shift and play of muscle under skin. The toned arms covered in tattoos that crawled up his neck, and the scarred knuckles that also sported ink. He had on a Motörhead t-shirt he’d hacked the sleeves out of, and I could see the play of muscle over his ribs, the tattoos over his sides. I knew he had more, too. His graceful back, his chest and calves. The muscles that lead to his cock.

God, had I just shivered? Probably.

I traced the scar that ran through the outside corner of his inky-black eyebrow and down his cheek with my fingertip. Like most boxers his nose had been broken, but the imperfections were my favorite parts. They told the story of who he was.

“Hey, baby. Missed you,” I whispered, wrapping my hands around his neck. “I thought you were at Whiskey Moon?”

He held my much softer curves tight against all his hard angles and kissed me deep. The man should’ve had a PhD in tongue action. The way he twisted and twined. Explored like we’d been apart for months, not days. Like every kiss was as important as the last. Kissing Declan was always like that––like a lifeline and sex with our clothes on all at the same time.

He gripped my generous ass through my jeans as I rasped my nails through the jet-black stubble on his scalp. Sucking in my bottom lip, a hum of approval slipped from his throat.

That sound… Let’s just say I had an extensive collection of underwear––thirty or forty pairs at least––because of that sound alone.

Leaning his forehead against mine, he blew out a breath that made me grin. I knew that heavy sigh. It’s the one he made when he was trying to keep himself in check. Of course, I met his eyes and nudged my hip against the front of the athletic shorts that were doing nothing to hide his full salute. “Glad to see you missed me, too.”

“Woman, you have no idea.” Declan’s thumb brushed the corner of my mouth before he gave me one last chaste kiss.

Stepping out of his arms, I toed off my Vans. Peeled off the gauzy white blouse I’d put over my racerback tank. “How did you get out of the club?”

The way he eyed me up and down, eyes lingering on my boobs––I thought for a second we’d be going for round two and a couch bang. But whatever was on my new Wolf cooktop started to splash over and sizzle. The extent of Declan’s culinary skills included grilling a steak and opening a jar of Ragu.

“Shit.” He jogged the to turn off the burner, then grabbed the pot’s handle without a hot pad. I cringed when I heard the skin sizzle. “Ahh, motherfuck.” He spun around and turned the cold water on, sticking his hand under the faucet.

“You okay?” Following him to the kitchen, I opened the fridge and pulled out a ball of the craft ice he used for whiskey. “Put this on it to pull out the heat. How bad is it? Do we need go to the emergency room?”

“No, it’s fine, just…” He examined his hand, took the ice, and I could see raw red skin. “I burned off my calluses. Damn.” He practically spat the words as the setting sun cut across his face through the warehouse-style windows. Declan wasn’t just BlackSmith’s lead singer. He was their rhythm guitarist. Those calluses took time to build. He looked disappointed. “I wanted to do something for us is all. With the club and the firm, we haven’t been getting much time… I talked Matt into taking a shift at Whiskey Moon so I could spend tonight with you.”

I couldn’t help the smile pulling at my lips. This man—who was tough as fucking nails—was beyond thoughtful. I caressed his jaw. “I love you.”

His lips turned up in his sexy half grin that always dropped my panties as he slid his free arm hand around my waist. “I love you, too.”

“Well, tell me what you’re making. I’ll help.”

“Sadie’s grandma’s étouffée. And no, you can’t help. I’m gonna do this.”

“That’s ambitious, Declan. For a dude who doesn’t cook… Why don’t you let me finish up?”

Dropping the ice from his burned hand, he patted my butt with the other. “Nope. You get to go soak in the tub while I finish, and I’ll bring you a drink. I plan on letting you eat, then I’m gonna fuck you senseless all night long. Don’t you even think about putting on clothes, either.”

Oh my God, I loved this man.

CHAPTER TWO

DECLAN

I OPENED THE BAR CABINET, poured two fingers of Angel’s Envy in a lowball. Goddamn, I was glad she was home safe. I loved my fiancée more than anything, but the woman had a way of finding trouble. It was one of my favorite things about her. I’d fallen for the badass she was, and I’d never ask her to change that. Every time she walked into a room I heard the song “My Chick Bad” by Ludacris in my head.

From the long caramel and chocolate waves down her back to her amber-colored eyes. The lush swell of her tits, to the softness of her belly and the curve of her hips. I loved every fucking piece of her just as she was. My girl was a badass, and she had curves in all my favorite places, but she also had a temper like a drunk Irishman (and I would know), a mouth like a roughneck, and a right hook like Laila Ali. Avery also happened to be the smartest fucking person I’d ever met.

The brain, the temper and sharp tongue, and all those soft curves––the woman was made for me. But trouble was never far off, bail money was always in my wallet, and Kat and Sadie were some of the worst fucking enablers I knew. God love them. So yeah. I worried when she was with those two without me. Avery could handle herself, but that didn’t mean I’d given up that right as her fiancé.

I walked the bourbon to the bathroom. Instead of finding her soaking the tub, the glass in the shower was steamed. I didn’t have any trouble making out the curves of her ass and heavy breasts, the soft slope of her tummy as she reached up to work the conditioner through her hair. The way her eyes lowered in bliss and her strong shoulders sagged when the wall jets hit her in just the right spots.

No, I’d never be stupid enough to tell her she couldn’t do this or shouldn’t do that. Avery would live/do/say/wear whatever and however she fucking pleased, and she sure as hell didn’t need my permission. I liked my balls where they were, thanks. But I knew the girls were going to the march for reproductive rights while they were in Dallas, and I’d worried if some random fuckstick got out of pocket… I could just imagine five-foot-five of curves and fury in the form of a mechanical engineer swinging a baseball bat at somebody’s dick and going to jail. Again.

I leaned against the door frame. Watched my fiancée. The talented hands that roamed her skin and caressed her thick thighs. The graceful foot perched on the shower seat as she bent to shave her calf and gave me a perfect fucking view of the plump lips between her legs.

So fucking pretty. Reaching into my shorts, I adjusted my wood that was hard enough to hit baseballs. Before I decided to fuck off dinner and crawl into that shower with her, I quietly set her drink on the edge of the vanity and went to finish up.

Fifteen minutes later the bread was cut, the sounds of Nina Simone floated from the turntable, and the étouffée was ready to eat. I lit the short candles on the barnwood table and poured the wine, but Avery still hadn’t emerged from her shower

When I went to check on her, she was wrapped in a grey towel, hair wet and stuck to her back as she laid on her side. She was on top of the charcoal-colored comforter using her arm for a pillow with her legs pulled up against her torso with goosebumps on her shoulders.

I wasn’t even disappointed. She needed the rest. I should have realized that before I decided to plan an evening of fucking like rabbits. Grabbing the faux fur throw from the eggplant-colored chair she liked to read in, I draped it over her and watched her snuggle in.

After I packed in dinner and set the kitchen to rights, I stripped down and got my own quick shower. As I toweled off, I watched my girl sleep. Avery Barrows was everything I needed, and nothing I deserved. I am a lucky bastard. I’d never understand why she picked me.

As gently I could, I slipped my arms under her and shifted her around to her pillow, pulling the comforter over her. She nuzzled into my neck, her breath fanning over my skin. “Mmm. Smells nice,” she whispered, and placed a kiss below my ear.

Crawling in bed behind her, I pressed my front to her back and cocooned my fiancée in my arms, remembering our first night together. We’d had life-altering sex, then Avery had gotten spooked, taken off on me, and run back to her hotel room.

We’d both come a long way. I didn’t have to worry about her running anymore, but I still held onto her like she might turn into mist. I’d thought that once, that I’d never hold her again, and my life had crumbled all around me. This woman was my heart, my light. The very fabric of my soul was woven together with hers.

And she needed sleep. So, sleep I’d give her.

I pressed my lips to the back of her neck. “Night, sweetness.”

Avery ran her fingertips over my jaw. “Night, baby.”

SWEAT DRIPPED over my forehead and ran straight into my eyes as the early sun streamed through the windows of the boxing gym. I punched out, my gloves snapping on the pads Shaun was holding for me. My shirt was soaked, my arms were heavy, and BlackSmith’s big bassist was kicking my ass with this workout.

“Two. Two. Side, two.” Shaun called out the combination, and I threw the first two crosses, side-stepped, and delivered the power cross to what would have been my opponent’s jaw. The crack of the boxing gloves on the big guy’s pads were satisfying but not nearly as much as the thud a glove made when it landed square on skin and bone. “C’mon, brother. You’re waning, D,” he taunted. And fucking grinned.

I was a good fighter, but Shaun was great. He also had thirty pounds and three inches on me, and I wasn’t a small guy.

“Two. Three. Side, hook.” I delivered the cross with more force. Threw the hook, side-stepped, and threw the hook to the body with as much power as I could muster.

Shaun stumbled a bit, and I grinned back. “Careful what you wish for.” He slapped his pads together and reset.

“Four. Three. Three.” I stepped in, threw the uppercut, and followed it up with two powerful hooks to the body. Shaun grunted with the hit. “Okay, brother. You’re done for the day.” He pulled off the pads and reached for my hands, unlacing my gloves.

“Thank God.” My breath sawed out. The muscles in my back were close to cramping and my shoulders were on fire. As soon as he pulled the gloves off, I dropped my sorry ass to a bench and swallowed half a bottle of water.

Shaun plopped down next to me. “Was Avery hungover yesterday? Sadie was. She was still half drunk when she got home.” He chuckled, pushed one of his dreadlocks over his shoulder. “How did the étouffée go over? Did you finally get some time together?”

I shook my head. “Avery was exhausted. She grabbed a shower while I finished up cooking, and when I went to check on her, she was curled up asleep on the bed. She’s overdoing it. Not getting enough rest, and between the consulting firm and the club, we can’t seem to meet in the middle. The woman doesn’t slow down long enough to breathe, let alone sleep.” I wiped my eyes with the towel from the bench. “I kinda feel like an asshole for planning all that last night knowing she’s burning the candle at both ends right now. I should have known she’d need the sleep more.”

Shaun nudged me. “Brother, I guarantee she doesn’t see it that way. I’m sure what you did made her feel loved, and that’s what’s important.”

I let my head fall forward, looked at the towel in my hands. “I feel like I’m not good at this shit. Like I don’t know what I’m doing as far as relationships go, and I’m gonna fuck it up.”

Shaun nodded, turned to look at me. “When Sadie opened the salon, it was like that for us. I already had this place running, breaking even, but she was laser-focused on business plans and suppliers. Finding the right location and stylists. She had to build a clientele, deal with advertising and accounting, all that. You know how hard that shit is.” His eyes scanned over the gym. “It was tough, and we had a baby, too. I love Jack more than life itself, but he consumed our every spare minute.”

I nodded, took a swig of water. “I want to help Avery, but I don’t know how. Plus, the staffing shit at the club is making it worse. Every time she gets a spare moment, I end up having to cover a shift. After I saw her asleep last night, I felt like planning that stuff was selfish.” I wiped my head with a towel. “She’ll be pissed, but I called her assistant this morning to see if she had anything that couldn’t wait until at least this afternoon so she could sleep. I probably shouldn’t have, but it felt like the only thing I could do to take care of her, you know?”

Shaun’s black dreadlocks slipped over his shoulder as he bobbed his head. He pushed them back, his stick and poke tatau absorbing the light against his bronze skin. “What’s best for the business isn’t always what’s best for the relationship or the person. It matters to you because it matters to her, but you love her and you worry if you don’t take care of her, she won’t slow down to take care of herself, either.”

“Yeah.”

“You gotta keep making the effort, brother. Trying to find those spare minutes. Support her however she’ll let you. This won’t last forever, but you have to make the best of what you have now. Even if you have to lean on your friends or have quickies in the bathroom at Whiskey Moon while she’s on a lunch break, and Jack’s at daycare.”

I barked out a laugh. “Goddamnit, Shaun. I knew it had to be you who broke the sink in the bathroom! That cost me $500 between water damage and a replacement, asshole.”

A sly grin touched his mouth. “When things are hectic, you gotta take what you can get and cherish every minute of it. When your woman grabs your shirt and leads you to the bathroom, you go.”

“I appreciate you helping out, my friend.” A weary sigh escaped from my chest. “I feel bad enough leaning on my friends to help me keep the bar open right now. Actually, I need to get showered and head over. I’ve got a couple interviews coming in today. Hopefully I won’t have to keep depending on friends.” Huffing out a laugh, I stood and tested the wobble in my legs. “Thanks, man. Having somebody to talk to about shit…”

Shaun pushed to his feet. “You’re still new at this relationship stuff is all. Both of you are. Cut yourself some slack. You’re supporting her as best as you can right now. Just because you’ve hit a rough patch doesn’t mean it will always be like this, D. Besides, this is what family is for. We’re there for each other to lean on. Always.”

As I soaped up in the gym shower, I let the water beat the knots out of my shoulders. Damn, I loved that woman.

Avery was magnificent in every sense. From her drive to make Barrows Consulting a powerhouse to her take-no-shit attitude and quicksilver mouth. From her amazing brain to those extraordinary tits I loved to watch jiggle when she rode me.

Running my hand over my abs, I soaped my semi-hard cock and sent up a silent thanks to Shaun that he’d put in private showers. I stroked root to tip, to thoughts of Avery crawling into the shower with me swirling in my head. Her trying to be quiet as I tasted her pussy, all peaches and honey. The long, low moans she’d make when I slid inside her that always shot straight to my balls. Her nails on my back, the way her tight little muscles squeezed my cock when she came. Goddamn. I was gonna come.

Tightening my grip, I put a palm on the wall and bit down on my tongue, trying to keep quiet, but even I could hear the crude slap of my fist over my wet length. My cock jerked once, twice. I gripped my shaft tight and shot over the tile wall. “Fuck.” It slipped out, quiet as it was.

“D, are jerking off in my shower? Wash the damn wall, you prick.” Shaun’s voice boomed around the locker room.

I smiled ear to ear, shut the shower off. Didn’t bother wrapping the towel around my waist as I flipped back the curtain and my hard-on flagged.

“Ahh, goddamn it, I didn’t need to see that. Now that’s etched in my brain forever, asshole.”

I grinned. “Consider it payback for the sink at the club.”

CHAPTER THREE

AVERY

NINE A.M. That’s what the clock said when I finally woke up.

Fuck. I ruined the thing.

Declan went to all that trouble, and I’d screwed up his plans. I only wanted to lay down for a second. He’d come get me when dinner was ready. Only he didn’t. After all that work, and the planning it must have taken for him to get out of Whiskey Moon for the night, he’d let me sleep.

Because he was a good man.

I knew I wasn’t Superwoman. Shit happened, people needed to sleep, and I’d been so busy—we both had been. But this shit wasn’t working for me anymore. We needed to make time for ourselves and for each other. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d spent more than 20 minutes having a quick bang before we both jetted out the door with a promise to talk in the evening only to get home and be too exhausted to brain. Not that I didn’t like our quickies. Some of them were hot as fuck. But I needed more, and he did, too.

We needed to connect. To worship each other, to drink in each other’s smiles, to flirt, and hold hands, and laugh, and tease, and feel that closeness we seemed to be losing because life got in the way.

I needed to trace his tattoos and feel him inside me so deeply that he imprinted on my body. To see the reverence in his eyes when he took my lips and the devotion when I took his cock between them.

God, his cock. Declan had that good dick. The long, thick, weighty perfection combined with the roll of his hips and rasp of his abdomen. The way my nails sank into his ass, my teeth into his shoulder. He knew exactly the right angles and pressure and speeds to either set me off or draw it out. The way he looked into my eyes and we both got lost.

Yeah, some things needed to be a fucking priority.

I sat up, hissed when the skin at the crease of my hip rubbed against my abdomen. I needed to put Aquaphor on my new tattoo. I been so tired I hadn’t even shown it to him last night.

After calling my assistant to make sure I could rearrange my schedule, I grabbed a coffee and headed to Whiskey Moon. I wasn’t even mad at Declan for calling her himself this morning so I could sleep. It probably should have irked me, but I understood why he did it.

When I pulled the door open, Matthias was behind the bar cutting limes for garnish. Mattie didn’t look like he should be the drummer in a hard rock band. He was more the boy next door who helped the MILF carry in her groceries, then bent her over the kitchen island and railed her before she picked up the kids from school.

Golden-brown curls that were just a little too long brushed his neck as he looked up. “Hey, cher.” Matt had a linebacker’s build, well, because he’d been a linebacker. As gorgeous as that body was, when he hit you with his smile your stomach did flip-flops. A strong jaw framed crater-sized dimples in each cheek, a straight nose, a single slightly chipped tooth, and those eyes… Like the Caribbean sea.

But Mattie was no boy next door. If looks were deceiving, Matthias had mastered the art of the bait and switch. “Whatchudoin’ here this early? Shouldn’t you be making deals and breaking hearts?” Did I mention the Cajun accent?

I walked passed the tufted black booths. Passed the two and four-tops with scarred tables, the pictures that covered the walls of hit rock and metal bands who’d taken the stage at the back of the room. “Shh. I don’t want him to know I’m here.”

“Declan ain’t here. He went to drop off the deposits.”

I slid up on a leather bar stool and watched him continue to slice limes. “I need your help, Mattie.”

“What’s up?” He didn’t look up, but one of those dimples made an appearance along with a crooked smile.

“Declan told me once that you, um… belong to a club that you have to be member of.”

Mattie paused mid-cut, wiped his hands on the bar towel before resting them on the edge of the bar and meeting my eyes. He nodded, a curious look on his face. “Revelry. He told you ‘bout that, huh?”

“Can you have guests or whatever?”

“He’s been there before, Avery. Before you two were together.”

Of course, he had. “He’s never been there with me, though, and…”

“You both like to watch.”

My face twisted up at that. “Thanks for just putting that out there, you twat. As if this wasn’t already making me uncomfortable as fuck to ask you if you could get me and my fiancé into a sex club so we can watch people fuck.”

Matt laughed. “You can do more than that at Revelry. But just hearing you say that was worth the call I have to make. Yeah, I’ll get you in. When?”

“Um, I’m kinda taking off, so tonight? Can you cover the bar for Declan?”

Matt bit down on his lip. “I can get you in, but you’re going to have to find someone else to cover here. I have plans.”

Pushing off the stool, I slipped around the end of the bar, grabbed Matthias, and pulled him into a hug. “Thank you.”

He slipped one arm around me and squeezed. “No problem, cher. Let me make a call and you find someone to cover.”

A few minutes later, Matt handed me a napkin with the information I needed as I hung up from making arrangements with Jamie the Homebody.

“Hey, Matt? Keep it a secret, okay?”

“My lips are sealed.”

I LAID Declan’s clothes out on the bed with a note for him to change and jumped in the shower. Ten minutes later, I met his eyes as I turned toward the shower glass and watched him watching me.

“Finally get some sleep?” His gravelly voice echoed around the bathroom.

I nodded. “Did you find the note?”

“Yeah. What’re you up to?”

I sent him a shit-eating grin. “It’s a surprise. I feel bad about falling asleep on you last night, and I want to make it up to you. I’m taking my baby out.”

“Sweetness, you don’t have to take me anywhere, I’ll just come in there with you.” He started to unzip his pants.

If I got a full shot of the goods or had watch that massive cock of his stand up, we weren’t going anywhere. “Stop! You are not coming in here. We’ll never make it out of the loft, and people helped me pull this together. We’re not blowing it off.”

He tilted his head, gave me that sexy half grin as he shoved his pants to the floor anyway. The man was fucking allergic to underwear. “Okay, then.” He reached down, circled his thickening length. “Hurry up. I need a shower, too.” He turned and gave me a shot of that magnificent ass and his back tattoo. It was my favorite piece—demon wings that sprawled his entire back side to side and shoulder to waist. Bastard. Goddamn, he was hot.

Thirty minutes later, I slipped into a satin sheath dress with spaghetti straps and a cowl neck that dipped low, highlighting my assets. I’d thought to put a strapless bra under it, but the material showed every line. Braless it was. When in Rome and all that.

Damn, I felt sexy. The way it floated over my curves, shined against the dips and flairs of my body, the feel of it caressing my skin. It’d drive Declan insane.

When I stepped out of the closet, he was folding up the sleeves of a black button-down that showed off the colorful ink on his forearms and hands. He’d left the shirt open at the top, drawing attention to the tattoo that crawled up the side of his neck. The grey slacks hugged his thighs and ass and were a perfect match to his grey suspenders and flat cap.

His eyes traveled up and down my body, making the return trip to my breasts.

“You look fucking edible. Not wearing a bra?” His lips parted and I could see the heat in his eyes.

I slid my hands round his waist, smashed my boobs against his sternum. “No, I’m not. People will stare.”

He tipped my chin and our lips met, but I didn’t let him deepen the kiss.

“Let them. You’re all mine.”

CHAPTER FOUR

DECLAN

WE TOOK a cab to a café on the corner of Burgundy and Governor Nicholls that looked closed for the night. Instead of going for coffee, Avery led me around the side of the building into the dingy alley.

“Avery.” She paused. “I know this place. Are you sure?” The woman just smiled, pulled a napkin out of her clutch that had Whiskey Moon’s logo on it, and I knew exactly who’d helped her.

“Are you sure?” She eyed me, gauging my reaction.

“Definitely.” I couldn’t help the grin.

With a nod, she punched a number into a well-disguised keypad next to a steel door. It popped open with a snick, and she led me into a small, non-descript room that held another door. A bodiless voice came through a speaker next to a camera. “How can I help you?”

Avery cleared her throat. “Avery Barrows and Declan McGinn. We’re guests of Matthias O’Dwyer.”

The door opened from within and a large guy in Hugo Boss waited on the other side with what looked like a permanently emotionless expression, but I knew nothing got past him. Revelry had top-notch security.

“Ms. Barrows, welcome. Mr. McGinn, good to see you again. I’ll need to take your cell phones.” I nodded my hello to the big man who came into Whiskey Moon on occasion, and we handed over our phones. “You can pick them up when you leave. Mr. O’Dwyer insisted you’d be on his tab tonight. Whatever you’d like is at your disposal. Enjoy your evening.”

Avery’s face fell when we walked into the anterior room. The place looked empty and not worth the security. That’s what I thought my first time here, too. A mahogany bar with some scattered club chairs and a single bartender. It looked like the kind of place where stodgy old fuckers would smoke cigars and congratulate each other for being filthy rich.

“This isn’t the club, sweetness.” Putting a hand on the small of her back, I guided her down the hall next to the bar. I pulled back the black velvet curtain never taking my eyes off her face. The gasp she let out was one I would remember forever, try to draw out of her again and again.

Beautifully dressed people were everywhere, and cabaret-style music played by a live band spun around the room. The lighting was soft, warm, and highlighted the gold and black furnishings. People of differing shapes, sizes, races, and sexual identities were draped over the settees engaged in conversations. But I saw the moment Avery realized not everyone was talking.

“Oh my,” she whispered. Her chest heaved while she tried to absorb everything at once.

There were platforms placed at four intervals around the room with scantily-clad people putting on a show of one kind or another. Some performers snaked around stripper poles; others did classic stripteases. The performers wore steampunk-style corsets and petticoats, garters and thigh highs. Tails and top hats. Riding crops and floggers. Some were bare-chested with leather-clad legs; others were bare on the bottom and covered up top. The performers, who all wore theatre-style makeup, were also varying shapes, sizes, colors, and sexual identities. Whatever your preference, as long as both parties were consenting adults, you could find it here.

I watched Avery take it in, the beat of her pulse in her neck. The rise and fall of her chest, the way her nipples stiffened in that fucking dress that was driving me insane, and I wasn’t the only one who’d noticed that. I guided her to a bar with mercury glass mirrors. She slid onto an empty stool, unaware of the bartender watching her or the drinks I ordered for her. Slipping my hand around her waist, I pulled her back against my chest, watched as her neck flushed and she tried to glance everywhere at once.

The room smelled like lust and liquor. There were hands under dresses, and men with hard-ons visible through their pants which were being attended to without any subtlety.

I tipped Avery’s chin up until our eyes met, brushed my thumb over her bottom lip before turning her face toward a muscular guy on one of the settees. He had two women draped around him while he watched the couple across from him locked in a kiss. The woman wasn’t classically beautiful, but those lips… Avery’s mouth parted.

“Wonder what those lips would feel like on your skin, sweetness? I’m sure as hell imagining what they’d look like tracing up your thigh.”

The man’s hand disappeared between the juncture of her thighs as she kissed him, dragging her skirt up and giving the other man and his dates a million-dollar view. His hand pumped in and out of her darkened core, but from where we were we only saw shadows. I ran my lips the length of her neck before whispering in her ear. “Like what you see?”

She hummed her approval.

I nodded to another chaise where one woman lay sprawled while a woman in a tuxedo with a short, slicked bob slid their hands under her partner’s halter and over her fleshy breasts. One of the male performers in a jeweled collar rubbed at the apex of their thighs over painted vinyl pants.

Avery cleared her throat. “So, uh, the performers. They participate?”

I chuckled low and deep next to her ear. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

On one of the platforms, a plus-sized woman in a ruby red corset danced around a pole seductively. “God, she’s beautiful,” Avery purred. The woman–– who wore matching red pointe shoes–– swung around the pole and landed on her toes.

“Yeah, she is.”

Beyond the ballerina, one of the male performers was with two female guests, his ass flexing back and forth between one woman’s thighs while he sank his tongue into the mouth of the other. “Is he…” Her hand slid to her neck as she licked her plump lips.

“Yeah.”

Avery rolled her body, arched her back against me before she slid off the stool onto her heels. I wasn’t even sure she knew she’d done it, but I could feel the tension radiating from her. Her breath came out in short bursts as she reached back and gripped my slacks just below my hip. My God, she was radiant. Barely restrained. Sexy as hell.

“Wishing that was you there, sweetness? Getting fucked in front of all these people? Turning everybody on while your ass smacks my thighs, and your tits shake for everyone to watch?” I wrapped an arm around her, trapping her ass against my dick. She swiveled her hips without even thinking about it. “Fuck, Avery,” I hissed as she pressed her ass against me again. “If you don’t stop grinding against me, we’re going to be part of the show.”

At that, she turned to meet my eyes, and I saw something flicker in their depths. Did she like that idea? I got off on both, exhibitionism and voyeurism, but as I far as I knew Avery only liked to watch. I’d never pushed for more.

Letting my fingers brush the side of her breast, I ran my lips over her neck and rubbed myself against the seam of her butt. Hers lush lips parted. “So fucking pretty like this, sweetness. All turned on and tight as a guitar string. Are you wet, Avery? Are you gonna soak the satin of this sexy fucking dress?” I tipped one of the straps off her shoulder and watched her skin pebble.

“This was supposed to be your surprise, not mine.” Her words were mist over gravel.

“I think we both win tonight.” Taking her nape, I tilted her head back, running my tongue across the seam of her mouth, but when she opened her lips, I pulled back with a cocky grin. “Shall we?”

“Shall we, what?”

I knew my chuckle was a little evil as I pocketed a card the bartender had slid to me and guided Avery to a set of doors on the opposite side of the room. People didn’t take their eyes off her as her hips and breasts swayed. She’d noticed, too, and looked not at all uncomfortable being the center of attention.

Through the door, I led her down a curved hall full of doors with numbers on black walls and dim, antique gold sconces. I held the card to the reader and twisted the handle open. The room was dark except for soft lights against the floor. Inside, I led Avery to a wide leather settee before I picked up the tablet propped on an end table and pushed the button.

A red curtain slid open to reveal the sexiest thing I’d ever seen in my life. Not what Avery was looking at––which was still plenty fucking hot––but what she looked like when she’d realized what she was seeing.

Shit, this was going to take more self-control than I had.

AVERY

HOLY… Heat and wet collided in a rush, flooding the apex of my thighs as Declan sat next to me and slid his hand between my knees. The private room opened to a large, round area decorated like Barnum and Bailey’s back in the day. There were performers everywhere engaged in all manner of salacious acts against a backdrop of red and yellow walls and gold filigree. Other rooms, like ours, circled the perimeter, some dark like this one, other lit with people moving around, drinking in some rooms, fucking in others. But the main attraction was what was going on in the in the colossal peep show in front of us. Red and gold furniture draped with naked bodies, tables and specially designed benches with people stretched over them in various positions and level of undress. Three, St. Andrew’s Crosses had people strapped to each, and I saw a naked contortionist with a man buried inside her, another man breathing fire in the nude. Yellow panes of silks suspended from the ceiling held an aerialist who performed beautiful acrobatics.

Breasts were bared over corsets. Flipped petticoats revealed naked wet flesh. I saw threesomes, foursomes, or more in various configurations. Straining cocks ran over wet folds or pumped deep into slickened flesh. Some men and women sucked others into their mouths while others lay prone while people feasted on them, rode their cocks, their hands, their faces. There was so much fucking skin, slick and glistening. Writhing and straining bodies, heaving chests, quivering breasts and slick lips, shaking legs, straining necks, heavy sacks. Moans, whimpers, pleas echoed off the walls with the slap of floggers and riding crops. The wet sounds of sex mixed with the scents of arousal and hot wax, oil, leather, and a hint of stage smoke.

I found myself transfixed by one threesome. Two men and one woman. She sat, her back to one man’s chest, her legs splayed open over his. The man whose lap she was on thrusted into her slowly while the other man kneeled between her legs to lick her at her clit and the base of her partner’s cock. My cheeks warmed as my breath shuddered out of me. I squeezed my legs together to feel the slide of my damp skin.

“Jesus. Avery,” Declan rasped. When I turned, his eyes were on me and blazing with green fire as he palmed the bulge his pants. He grabbed me by the nape, sank his tongue between my lips in a kiss full of dirty promise.

Declan’s mouth was my drug. The meshing of our lips, the glide of our tongues like wet silk. Just as I was ready to deepen the kiss, he pulled away. Shifting, he slipped behind me on the chaise, trapping his hard bulge against my ass and back. “Watch.” My fiancé thrusted his hard-on against my ass with movements made of pure instinct. But there wasn’t anything in the side show that was sexier than watching the man I was with ride the edge of his control. When I didn’t turn right away, he took my chin between guitar-roughened fingers and tried to do it for me.

I knew he didn’t want me to miss a thing, but all I cared about was seeing him, and maybe…

I’d noticed the windows next to the doors as we’d walked the long hall. When we were at the bar, I’d wondered… Could we do what Declan suggested and be part of the show? The thought set my blood to sizzling in my veins and made the ache in my belly grow to the point of pain. In that moment, with this man, I knew the answer.

I swiped the tablet off the end table with a naughty grin. “Yes. Let’s let them watch.” I tapped the button marked window, and the glass turned from opaque to clear as I set the overhead lights to dim.

“What’re you doing?” His stunned expression said it all.

Twisting, I looked at him over my shoulder, sent him a wink. “Are you game?”

“Always. But be sure, Avery.”

I swiped my fingernails over the stubble at the base of his skull and watched him close his eyes, straining for control. “Yes, I want to do this. With you.”

Something snapped inside Declan. The flat of his tongue traveled up my neck where he sucked my earlobe between his lips before biting down and wrapping a palm around my throat, giving it a gentle squeeze. At the same time, he slipped a hand into the neckline of my dress over my shoulder, palming my heavy, aching breast.

His other palm snaked around my waist and slid up the inside of my thigh, but this was his surprise, and I’d be damned if I let him wrestle the control away from me tonight.

Feral, that’s the way I wanted him, and he was well on his way.

Declan nudged my legs apart, cupped my wet mound. “Fuck. No panties?”

I shrugged, stood and turned, pushing my dress up my thighs and sliding my fingers between the lips between my legs. “Mmm, God. I’m close already.”

Declan’s eyes locked on my fingers; the way I slid the tip around careful not to touch my clit. He pushed the hat from his head, shed his suspenders and shirt in record time. Those wide, hard bunch of shoulder muscles had me dying to touch them. Letting my hand fall away, I traced the lines of his deltoids, the skin of his neck before taking his lips and pushing between them. He shuddered beneath me as I licked into him, driving the tension as he thrust a hand between my thighs and forced my legs apart.

“Unh, Jesus. Avery.” Declan traced my slit, slipped a finger passed my lips. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you this fucking wet.” A calloused finger pushed inside me, and my head fell back on my shoulders. Before I knew it, he was standing in front of me. His palm pushing against my aching bundle of nerves as he crooked his finger and sought out that spot only he’d ever found.

He sank to my mouth, and I swallowed his exhale as he pushed a hand into my hair and angled my head to take what he wanted.

I let my fingers play over the ridges of his stomach before undoing his slacks and shoving them past his hips. God, Declan’s size still shocked me. He was long and thick and so hard and hot.

When I slid my thumb over the head of his cock and smeared the dribble of precum, he hissed between clenched teeth, pulled his finger from my pussy, and pushed it between his lips. “Mmm. I want this dress off you. I’ll fucking rip it off you if you don’t get rid of it.”

I righted myself, slipped the straps from my shoulder, down under my breasts before I made him move his fingers so I could push it off my hips. I turned, bent at the waist as I shoved it over my ankles and earned myself a stiff swat on the ass, followed by a quick swipe of his tongue over my slit. When I cried out, performers nearby turned to look.

“Jesus. Did you see the way everyone watched you out there? Fucking everyone here wanted to get a glimpse of what I’m looking at now. These plump, sweet lips I’m going to bury myself in.” He shifted his hips, slid the slacks down his thighs, and kicked his shoes off at the same time.

I turned just in time to see him shove his pants off and watch his cock slap his belly. But I wasn’t about to give him back control, yet.

I placed a palm on his chest. Pushed.

“Avery.” There was warning in his tone, but he sat for me.

I climbed over his strong thighs. Reached between us to slide my fingers along the underside of his hard-on as he pressed his fingers into me. The orgasm caught me off guard, racked my body with shudders. Heavy spasms rippled through me. “Mmm, fuck. Declan.” My body shook as he rubbed that spot against the front wall of my channel.

I ran the head of his cock through my drenched lips to nudge at my clit. Threw my head back as he kept the rhythm steady.

Declan swore in that Irish accent that rarely came out. “Touching you is like trying to ride lighting. Shocking and searing, fucking formidable, Avery. You’re fucking formidable. Shit, you better hold on.”

That mouth of his. It was a dangerous weapon. I grabbed his shoulders as he pulled his fingers free and gripped my hips with punishing fingers. He pulled me forward, pushed himself inside me.

“Declan. So much stretch.”

His face was a mask of strain as he thrust his hips and I rolled mine to meet him. “Goddamn, Avery. Still so fucking tight.” Our bodies smacked together, Declan’s fingers leaving bruises at my waist as he raised me over his cock to push back inside. My body clenched around him. Tried to hold on to him as he attempted to withdrawal. That quickly, we found our rhythm. The one that would set us both off as we stared into each other’s eyes and got lost.

But I wasn’t ready for this to be over.

I pushed away, slid from his thighs, his cock slipping free to bob against his stomach. I glanced at the window, couldn’t see more than shadows, but they were there watching me take this magnificent man that was all mine.

“What’s this?” That’s when he saw it. My new tattoo. I’d gotten a few since I’d started seeing Declan. They were like Lay’s potato chips—you couldn’t have just one. I had my own wings around my back and ribs. I had the polka dot bow on my left ring finger. And in Dallas, after the march for reproductive rights, I’d had the word Dissent tattooed along the crease between my thigh and hip. It sat just below my hipbone a few inches away from my slit.

Declan brushed the still-healing ink with a gentle finger. “That is fucking sexy. Come here, let me look.” He pulled me closer. “I love this script. This fucking thing needs to heal so I can run my tongue over it.” A wicked grin covered his lips. “Though, here is something else I can lick.” Stretching his tongue out, Declan made a slow swipe over the lips between my legs that had my mouth falling open on a moan before I shoved him away.

“Not this time, baby.” He’d set me off again if we went there, and I wanted him inside me when I came.

“I wish I could have been there. I don’t know how I would have handled a guy tattooing you so close to this pussy. Him getting to smell you, to see you up close.” He brushed his finger along the top of my thigh.

That mouth again. “We had a female tattoo artist. Sadie and Kat got one, too.” I pressed on his shoulders, forcing him to lay back.

“That’s even fucking sexier. You gonna ride me, sweetness? While everybody watches?”

I looked at the window again, saw the shadows, the unclear faces. When I shifted my eyes to Declan, he nodded in the opposite direction. Performers lingered just away from our room but watched us as they touched each other.

“Hell yes, I am.” I pushed his shoulders down on the couch, so the circus was to one side and the window to the other. Straddling his hips, I lined Declan’s thick cock up with my entrance. Dragged the tip over my clit as he gripped my hips and tried to pull me down. “You think it’s only me they’re watching? Do you know how many women––and men––I’ve seen covet you tonight? Look at you and swipe their tongues over their lips or watch you while another man fucks them?” I finally pushed down on his cock until my ass met his thighs and my eyes rolled back in my head.

Declan’s neck arched; his jaw strained tight. “Jesus Christ. How can you feel so fucking good? I’ll never get used to this.”

“Ahh, God. You stretch me so tight, baby.”

Declan curled his hips as I sank down, and ohmyfuckinggod.

“Ride me, Avery. Bounce on my cock and ride me till you come. Show everyone here who this pussy belongs to.”

I met his eyes, breathless and so close. Slapped my ass down against his thighs driving him deep and squeezing him tight. “Declan…” His grip on my hip, his sharp inhale, his thumb slipping between us to circle my clit as I leaned back and put my hands on his legs for him to watch his cock disappear inside of me. “It’s… My… Pussy…” I punctuated each word with a roll of my hips. “It will never belong to anyone but me.”

“Fuck me. Avery, I’m… It’s…Fuck.” His squeezed his eyes shut; his teeth clenched tight.

“Look at me, baby.” He did, and love and lust tangled up low in my belly as the ache built. “But I choose to share it with you. No one else.”

“Ahh, God.” Arching his hips, he hit that spot that turned me into a writhing mess. “Come for me, sweetness.” He rasped the head of his cock over that spot, pushed on my most sensitive nerves. Pinpoints of light exploded behind my eyes as a husky moan escaped my lips. I had no control over the twitching of my hips or the contractions of my walls around Declan’s cock.

My fiancé hissed something so heavily accented with Irish that I didn’t understand, and I thrust my hips without coordination as I rode my orgasm.

One stroke, two.

“Christ, Avery.” Declan arched into me, met my gaze as his own orgasm took him. I felt the kick of his cock, the warmth of his come wash through me.

“Whose cock is this, baby.”

“Ahh, Avery.” His body went rigid, his muscles shuddered as he moaned in his throaty rasp and his hips jerked and stopped.

“That’s right. It’s mine.”

When we’d both come down, I slid to his side, and he laughed while he pushed the buttons on the tablet to close the window at the back and the viewing panel at the front.

“What are you laughing at?”

“Guess I deserved that. It’s yours, sweetness. My cock will always be yours.”

I stroked his jaw. “And this pussy will always be yours. Because I choose to give it to you.”

He smiled, a full smile this time. “You liked being watched.” It wasn’t a question. “I’ve wanted to bring you here, see what you thought of it, but it’s been so crazy. Seems like one thing after another, and the list of things we need to do is endless.”

I ran an index finger along his jaw. “Yes, I liked being watched. With you. And you’re right. We’ve both been so consumed with everything else we’ve neglected each other.” “We need to start making us a priority.”

He nodded. “I love how driven you are. I’d never ask you to change, and I will always support you any way I can. I know it’s hard trying to get a new business off the ground, but I hope you’ll make more time for yourself, too.” He brushed my cheek with a knuckle.

I placed a kiss on his lips. “I will. Promise.”

Revelry was even busier when we walked through the bar to go home. I wasn’t at all surprised to see the familiar set of wide shoulder and golden-brown curls watching the curvy ballerina, a drink rested on his knee. She seemed familiar to me somehow.

God, did Mattie see us screw? As if he sensed my thoughts, he looked up, met my eyes with a sly wink before he shifted his focus to Declan and tipped his chin. Declan did the same.

And I realized, I didn’t care if he had.

“So, how do we get a membership to this place?”

Declan’s laughter rumbled over me in that deep bass, a twinkle in his green eyes as he threaded his hand through mine.

That laugh was my favorite part of the night.

The End

About the Author

Tricia Lynne is fluent in both sarcasm and cuss words—a combination that tends to embarrass her husband at corporate functions. A tomboy at heart, she loves hard rock, Irish whiskey, and her Midwestern roots.

She’s drawn to strong, flawed heroines, and believes writing isn’t a decision one makes, but a calling one can’t resist. She lives in the Dallas area with her husband, the world’s sweetest rescued Cane Corso, and a Clumber Spaniel that’s a huge asshole.

To find out what Tricia has coming up next, get news on giveaways, sign up for her newsletter, and basically watch her make an ass out of herself on social media (she excels at it), head over Tricia Lynne Writes

If you’d like to read more about BlackSmith, and Avery and Declan’s road to Revelry, you can pick up Tricia’s Award-winning debut, Moonlight & Whiskey, from your favorite eBook retailer.

IDOL CRUSH

TRISH MILBURN

A GUST of wind caught the tent, ripping it away from Byun Yu-Jin.

“Catch it!” He stumbled to his feet, slipping in the white sand.

Okada Kaito looked up, confused as LeYe squealed and took off running after the tent that was now flying down the beach like an oversized kite. Kaito realized what was happening and started chasing the cartwheeling yellow tent too.

Yu-Jin leapt to his feet and joined the chase, thinking a hotel suite with room service sounded great about right now.

Kaito had the longest legs, so he reached the tent first and halted its escape. When he grabbed it, he lifted his arms in victory, and the biggest, proudest smile lit up his face. Yu-Jin laughed as he approached him and LeYe.

“If that doesn’t make it into the show, it’s going to be a highlight of the blooper reel,” Yu-Jin said.

“And this one is going to earn more fans,” LeYe said, pointing at Kaito. “He has that ‘I just slayed a beast’ proud look going on.”

Kaito snorted. “I caught a tent. I don’t think that’s going to make anyone swoon.”

LeYe made eye contact with Yu-Jin, and they both burst out laughing. Yu-Jin gripped Kaito’s shoulder.

“Just keep being your adorable, oblivious self. One of these days you’ll see LeYe and I are right.”

Despite his earlier thought about how comfortable a hotel room would be, Yu-Jin was having fun filming Korea Up Close with his friends from the K-pop groups SBG and Sky High. When they’d been approached about the show, all three of them had been surprised and curious why they’d been chosen. But evidently the bigwigs at his and LeYe’s company, Stratosphere Entertainment, and Kaito’s, LLK, had gotten together with the top broadcasting station and hatched the idea of jumping more fully on the “Let’s change the industry” train. The Korean entertainment scene had seen big changes in the past few years. A new progressive CEO had taken the helm at LLK. Stratosphere had not only stood behind their idols dating after the news had broken, but, remarkably, had also supported LeYe being in a relationship with his fellow group member, Nu.

Then there was Yu-Jin, who’d thought he might have to leave the industry only a year after his solo debut when it had been revealed that his mother had gotten into a lot of debt with private loan sharks in order for the two of them to survive. Instead, Stratosphere had stuck by him, so much so that just last month he’d finally paid off the last of his mother’s debt. And he was getting close to paying off his trainee debt to the company. This was why he’d accepted this reality show gig despite his busy schedule preparing for his next album.

He’d bet that the powers that be had thought that an interesting combination of idols for a Korean travel show would be someone from Japan, someone who couldn’t afford vacations growing up, and the son of a rich chaebol family who’d basically been disowned and was now one half of the most famous same-sex couple in the country. He had to admit, they were an interesting trio. The ratings for their first two shows at the DMZ and Seoraksan National Park proved that.

Plus, they were having fun. A lot of the online comments pointed that out, and that fans thought the companies were brilliant to choose the three of them for the show. Yu-Jin thought about how focusing on their trio like this would have been unheard of during their trainee days, but thankfully a lot had changed since then. Things still weren’t perfect and were often challenging, but they were moving in the right direction.

After a lot of missteps and laughter, they finally got their tent set up for their stay on Naksan Beach. They all flopped down on the sand, oblivious to the nearby cameras at this point.

“This is nice,” Kaito said, looking out across the water as if he could see his home on the other side of the sea.

“Yeah. My legs are still shaking from all the hiking at Seoraksan,” LeYe said. “I’m happy to just chill on a beach for a while.”

“I feel like we deserve coffee after all that,” Yu-Jin said as he gestured toward the tent.

“Yeah, coffee,” Kaito said, snickering.

Ignoring whatever that was about, Yu-Jin got to his feet, dusted the sand off his butt and hands, and headed toward the powder blue food truck that had been with the production since the first day. Little blue, white and pink triangular flags hung in a line along the open awning, blowing in the sea breeze.

“Looked as if you all almost had to sleep under the stars,” Jin Eun-Soo, the truck’s owner, said as the three of them approached. “I admit I laughed.”

“Harsh,” Kaito said, earning a smile from Eun-Soo, a smile that made Yu-Jin’s heart beat triple time.

Eun-Soo had taken his breath away that first day when he’d walked up to the truck and she’d looked up to ask what he wanted. He’d nearly lost his mind and asked her out to dinner. But despite Stratosphere’s support of its idols dating, he didn’t want to do anything that might endanger her staying with the production as they traveled around the country. She obviously worked hard to keep everyone in drinks, snacks, and the first two meals of the day. He doubted she even had much downtime when the cast and crew checked out local restaurants for dinner each night. He’d seen the light in her truck on at night as she and her employee prepared for the next day.

“So, day ten of asking which of the three of us is your favorite…,” LeYe teased.

Eun-Soo looked straight at the camera filming the scene. “And it’s day ten of me saying I don’t have a favorite. You’re all talented and funny.” She shifted her attention back to them. “So, the usual?”

They all nodded, and she turned to make their coffees. When she finished, she placed each in front of the appropriate person.

“What are the treats today?” Yu-Jin asked.

When LeYe choked on his coffee, Yu-Jin wondered if his friends had picked up on his crush. He’d been careful not to show how he felt, but maybe they just knew him too well. He certainly hoped no one else saw through to his feelings. Eun-Soo was just doing her job. She didn’t deserve to be the target of fan ire. Many fans had come around to supporting idols dating, but there were still a large number who didn’t like it and made it their mission to ruin anyone even accused of dating a K-pop idol.

Oblivious to the thoughts flying through his mind, Eun-Soo placed a platter of cupcakes in front of them.“A choice of pumpkin, mango or honey cupcakes.”

Yu-Jin’s mouth watered.

“We’re going to have to run laps up and down the beach if we eat these, but it’ll be worth it,” LeYe said.

Yu-Jin agreed. Not only was Eun-Soo pretty and nice, but her culinary skills were amazing. He reached forward and took one of the honey cupcakes, complete with a little honeybee made from a yellow jellybean. He wasted no time biting into it, then closed his eyes and made a sound that showed how delighted his taste buds were.

“You might want to dial down the moaning,” LeYe said close to his ear, thankfully quiet enough that the production microphone didn’t pick it up.

Yu-Jin was the one to choke this time, and he grabbed his coffee to wash down the bite of cupcake he’d inhaled without properly chewing.

That comment…Yu-Jin didn’t know if LeYe was just teasing because of how he’d sounded or he and Kaito really had figured out the truth. If it was the latter, he was going to have to have a conversation with his friends when the cameras stopped rolling.

EUN-SOO DELIBERATELY TURNED her back as Yu-Jin, LeYe and Kaito walked away with their coffee and cupcakes. Though she liked their music, she’d never been a huge fangirl who lost her mind when she saw idol groups perform. But being near Yu-Jin made her understand the urge to melt. The man gave her heart palpitations.

She’d seen him on TV and newsstands, of course, and knew he was good-looking. But TV and magazine images did not even begin to live up to the in-person Yu-Jin. She didn’t know how crew members of every gender weren’t passing out at the mere sight of him. Add to that the fact that he was nice and it was an overwhelming combination. However, she had to keep things strictly professional. The opportunity to work with the production was something she was grateful for, and she worked hard with the hope that it would lead to more business in the future. No good would come of making Yu-Jin uncomfortable around her. After all, once this show was over, she might never see him again. Even though she hoped to earn more work with the entertainment and production companies, there was no guarantee she would. And even if she did, Yu-Jin might never be on any of those sets. He’d never acted before, and this was his first reality show.

She’d just enjoy the scenery while she had the opportunity, but the financial stability of her future was more important.

Her phone dinged with a text. When she read the message from her part-timer, Se-Bin, she closed her eyes and groaned.

So sorry I can’t come to work. I fell down the stairs at my apartment building and broke my leg.

Se-Bin had attached a photo of her looking sad with a cast from her knee to nearly the end of her foot. She’d gone back to Seoul to accompany her mother to a doctor’s appointment and then ended up in the ER herself.

After coming to quick terms that it was going to be a really long night, Eun-Soo texted Se-Bin back.

Oh no! Do you need anything?

No, but I’m really sorry. Can you get someone else to help you? It’s so much work.

Don’t worry about me. Everything will be okay here. Just rest and heal.

Not wanting to waste time, Eun-Soo started working on the prep for the next day’s offerings. She glanced up every now and then to watch bits of the filming down on the beach and made coffee or tea for crew members when they appeared at the truck’s counter.

She was in the midst of rolling gimbap when yells from the beach drew her attention. What she saw caused her to drop the gimbap in her hand. But who could blame her? Yu-Jin, LeYe and Kaito were all shirtless, chasing each other as if they were little boys let loose to run off their excess energy before bedtime. All three were handsome men, but Yu-Jin was the one who instantly drew her eye. Never in her life had a man literally made her drool, but she supposed there was a first time for everything.

Before she got caught staring—either by a member of the crew or a fan who somehow found their way past the barricades and security—she forced herself to focus on her work. After tossing the gimbap she’d dropped and chastising herself for the waste, she got back to rolling more. But her determination to keep her eyes off the shenanigans on the beach failed miserably.

“Iced Americano, please.”

Aish, she’d nearly dropped more gimbap. She’d not heard nor seen anyone approach, and when she looked over she saw an amused look on the face of none other than the production’s director, Bang Ji-Hae.

Eun-Soo gave a quick bow then turned to make the coffee and ensure her facial features showed nothing but professionalism.

“What do you think of the show so far?” Director Bang asked her when she handed her the Americano.

“It’s entertaining.” That was a nice, safe answer. After all, she’d seen grandpas say so.

“We’re going to do something different than the original plan while we’re in Naksan. Instead of just the three of them going to the carnival, the whole crew is taking part. They’re going to have to compete against crew members.”

“Sounds fun. The viewers will love it.”

“You’re part of the crew, you know.”

“I have a lot to do here.”

“Just come out for a little while. We’ll head over there after dinner tonight.”

Eun-Soo smiled and nodded, though she knew she had way too much work waiting for her to go play carnival games. Even if it would give her an excuse to be around Yu-Jin.

No, it was a bad idea to spend more time with him. Every time she did, she ran the risk of exposing her attraction to him.

“Oh, by the way, viewers are loving your interactions with them and how you refuse to pick a favorite.”

If those viewers only knew.

“I even saw a fan account for pictures of your treats.”

“Really?”

Director Bang pulled out her phone, navigated to an account and showed it to Eun-Soo. Sure enough, the person had taken screen shots of various crew members’ photos of the various treats she’d provided for the cast and crew over the past couple of weeks and had paired them with cute, fun descriptions. She imagined how that love might turn to hate if the owner of the account knew how fast Eun-Soo’s heart beat every time she saw Yu-Jin approaching her truck.

“I’m thankful for the opportunity to work for your production.”

Director Bang smiled as she accepted her phone, then took her coffee and went back to work.

Work. That was exactly what Eun-Soo needed to focus on, so she turned her efforts to making little fruit tarts for the next day. She tried not to think about what it would be like to walk through a carnival hand-in-hand with Yu-Jin. But that was just the stuff of fantasies, not her real life.

THE SEAFOOD he’d eaten was delicious, but Yu-Jin found himself wishing there was a way to order a meal from the restaurant that he could take to Eun-Soo. He’d noticed that she never joined the crew for dinner. Did she not consider herself part of the crew since she didn’t work on the actual production?

Kaito snapped his fingers in front of Yu-Jin’s face to get his attention. Yu-Jin shot a glance toward the camera operators, thankful to see that they’d stopped filming and were hurriedly eating their own dinners. He also noticed that LeYe had left the table. A glance toward the exit showed LeYe standing outside on the phone, no doubt talking to Nu. Those two seemed to fall more in love every day. It was great that things had changed so much that not only could they be together openly, but they hadn’t lost their careers because of their relationship. Sometimes it still didn’t seem possible, and yet it was. They’d even been invited to be special guests at Pride events in New York the following spring.

“I’d ask where your mind wandered off to, but I have a pretty good guess,” Kaito said.

Yu-Jin looked around, but unlike during filming, no one seemed to be paying attention to them.

Kaito leaned forward. “You like Eun-Soo, right?”

If his friends had figured it out, there was no use denying it. “That obvious?”

Kaito nodded. “You look for any opportunity to go get coffee or a snack.”

Yu-Jin sighed and ran his hand back through his hair, which he’d been growing out since his last comeback.

“Do you think it’s obvious to everyone?”

“Probably not everyone, but I wouldn’t be surprised if others have noticed. You should ask her out.”

Yu-Jin shook his head.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to ruin this opportunity for her, and I can’t risk it damaging my career either.”

“You know your fans will stand by you. They were amazing when…”

“The stuff happened with my mom,” he finished for Kaito.

“Yeah, it was relatable for a lot of people. It’s not easy to make a decent living. Lots of people struggle, and not just here.”

That was true, and he’d had many heartfelt letters from fans living all around the world who’d shared their own stories of struggling to make ends meet and how he and his mom had given them hope.

Despite the support, he still worried about being with anyone. As many of his friends had found out, dating was nice but not without its challenges. And if the person dating an idol wasn’t in the entertainment field too, it could be a lot to navigate.

Still, he couldn’t stop thinking about Eun-Soo—her smile, the way she was always pushing a loose bit of her long dark hair behind her ear, how proud she looked when someone praised her work. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear she was something like a kitchen witch. He would miss her food when the show was over, but at least they had three more weeks to go.

Her food wouldn’t be all he missed.

The camera crew went back to filming them again as they left the restaurant, heading toward the carnival. LeYe fell into step on the other side of Yu-Jin.

“How’s your man?”

LeYe smiled. “Awesome, as always.”

Kaito and Yu-Jin made dramatic gagging sounds as they did with all their friends who were dating.

“Just wait until the two of you fall for someone. I’m going to rub it in until it burns.” He leaned close to Yu-Jin. “I have a feeling one of you is already close to tumbling head over heels.”

“Stop it,” Yu-Jin said under his breath.

LeYe just giggled and headed for the Viking ship ride.

After they rode the ship and got over a fit of laughter when one of the camera crew looked a bit green after stepping off the ride, they made for the games area. Kaito made quick work of winning a plush dolphin at the archery game. LeYe cried out in faux pain when he missed his last target entirely and walked away empty-handed. Everyone laughed when Kaito gave the dolphin he’d won to Director Bang and she played along like a blushing young girl.

“Your turn,” Director Bang said, pointing toward Yu-Jin. “Don’t let the crowd rattle you.”

Yu-Jin playfully did a full, ninety-degree bow to the accumulated spectators. When he lifted to his full height, he spotted someone he hadn’t seen before. When his gaze met Eun-Soo’s and she smiled, his heart somersaulted in his chest. To keep it from being obvious how she affected him, he turned and grabbed the flimsy bow and an arrow.

His first arrow went way wide, hitting the booth operator’s water bottle and drawing laughter from the crowd and teasing from LeYe and Kaito.

“Mianhaeyo,” he said with a slight bow to the booth operator, who waved off the apology good-naturedly.

Yu-Jin needed to get a grip. He barely even knew Eun-Soo, and she somehow made him feel jittery all over. He’d had crushes before, had even dated briefly when he’d been a trainee, but this was different. When he looked at Eun-Soo, he felt as if he was full of sunshine and butterflies.

Trying to bring those feelings under control, he took careful aim and hit a bull’s-eye with both of his final two arrows. That earned him a cute little bunny plush.

“Who gets your prize?” someone called out from the crowd.

Yu-Jin barely kept himself from looking straight at Eun-Soo.

“My mom, of course.”

“Aww…” came from the crowd in a chorus.

He stepped aside as members of the crew tested their archery skills. He glanced toward Eun-Soo and saw that she was being urged forward by Song Hye-Won, stylist for LLK Entertainment and girlfriend of Sky High member Ji-Hyun. When the crew started chanting Eun-Soo’s name, he joined in since there was safety in numbers.

She finally relented and stepped up to the basket of arrows. To his and everyone else’s surprise, she quickly shot all three arrows into the middle of the bull’s-eye.

“Daebak!” Kaito said in awe right before everyone broke out in cheers.

Eun-Soo turned around and smiled at the cast and crew.

“Did I not mention I was on the archery team in high school?”

The camera zoomed in on LeYe and Kaito crying foul, but Yu-Jin just laughed.

“I think we should stick to singing,” he said.

As everyone moved on toward the next game, Yu-Jin happened to fall into step next to Eun-Soo.

“That was impressive,” he said.

“Honestly, I’m surprised I was still able to do that. It’s been quite a while since I held a bow.”

“Too busy with work?”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Speaking of, I should get back to it.”

“Stick around a while longer.”

The way she looked over at him made him wonder if she could hear how much he wanted her to stay. She looked nervous as she nodded quickly.

“One more game, and then I really have to go back. Se-Bin broke her leg, so I’m on my own.”

As everyone tried their luck throwing plastic rings around the necks of colorful bottles, the teasing grew to epic proportions. Watching Eun-Soo laugh along with everyone else filled Yu-Jin with a feeling of warmth. He’d gotten the impression that she didn’t have much time for purely fun activities. In fact, she slipped away while he was taking his turn tossing the rings.

After security had cleared the restroom to make sure the place was empty, he and Kaito took a bathroom break. Kaito waited until they were alone to say, “If you want to hide how you feel about Eun-Soo, you need to look like you’re having fun.”

“What?”

Kaito motioned toward Yu-Jin’s face. “If anyone is watching closely, they’ll notice that all your smiles and laughter went poof when Eun-Soo left.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

Kaito shook his head. “No, I’m really not.”

Heeding his friend’s advice, Yu-Jin did his best to have a good time during the rest of the night’s filming and to not pay too much attention to Eun-Soo’s food truck when they returned to the beach.

“You really like her, don’t you?” LeYe asked when the three of them were lying inside the tent later, after the cameras had left them alone for the night.

“Yeah. I’ve never felt this way before, never experienced such an instant attraction.”

“It’s understandable. She’s very pretty.”

“Seriously, you should ask her out,” Kaito said as he turned onto his side and propped his head on his upturned hand.

“Why are you pushing so hard? Him, I understand,” Yu-Jin said, pointing at LeYe. “He’s stupid in love.”

“That I am,” LeYe said, not the least bit embarrassed. “So I highly recommend dating. If Nu and I can manage to date and still have careers, anyone can.”

“Yeah, but at least you’re both in the industry. And it was obvious Nu felt the same.”

“You do know how many of my members are dating people outside the industry, right? You see them all the time.”

Yu-Jin flopped back onto his sleeping bag. “Why do you have to make sense?”

LeYe laughed. “Because I’m happy and I want other people to be happy like I am.”

Yu-Jin pointed at Kaito. “Why aren’t you pestering him too?”

LeYe looked at Kaito. “Do you have anyone you like right now?”

“Ani.”

“There you have it,” LeYe said.

“She’s not given any indication she might like me,” Yu-Jin said.

LeYe and Kaito groaned in unison.

“Maybe you should ask her,” LeYe said as if Yu-Jin was remarkably dim.

Perhaps he would toward the end of the production. That way, if she didn’t feel the same, they wouldn’t have to see each other every day. She wouldn’t feel awkward or pressured.

The conversation turned to what they were all working on, future releases, and what was going on with their companies. Since SBG and Sky High had collaborated on an album with one of the aims being to get their fandoms to stop fighting with each other, there had been a lot more interaction between Stratosphere and LLK artists. Smaller companies were beginning to get in on the trend, doing inter-company projects. Yu-Jin had even been approached to do a duet with Binna, a female soloist at LLK.

Gradually, their conversation faded as first LeYe, then Kaito and finally Yu-Jin fell asleep. Sometime in the middle of the night, however, Yu-Jin woke up and quickly realized he was wide awake and wouldn’t be going back to sleep anytime soon. To keep from tossing and turning and waking up his friends, he slipped out of the tent and walked out to the edge of the incoming waves. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply of the salty air. Moments like this when he was truly alone and in a quiet, peaceful environment were rare. It was the same for all of them. Being a K-pop idol meant long hours and often little sleep. Ironically, he’d gotten more sleep while filming this show than when he was home.

He looked up at the sky but couldn’t see anything but darkness since it had gotten cloudy right before sunset. When he turned to look back toward the security barrier, he noticed light coming from Eun-Soo’s food truck. Was she still working on prep for the next day? Taking advantage of the emptiness of the beach, he started walking that direction.

With the exception of a couple of security guys, he’d thought he was the only one awake. But as he reached the little blue truck, he spotted Eun-Soo through the open door at the back. She was busy cutting vegetables. He started to say something but was afraid of startling her. But she turned and saw him. She gasped and took a step back, a knife still in her hand. He moved forward before he could think about how unwise it was to invade her space while she was holding a large chopping knife. He stopped with a foot on the bottom metal step that led up into the truck.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Eun-Soo placed her free hand against her chest. “It’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting to see anyone standing there. Did the light wake you up?” She glanced toward the closed pull-downs on the side of the truck.

“No. I just can’t sleep and didn’t want to risk waking up the guys.”

She appeared to realize she was still holding the knife pointed in his direction and set it aside.

“Do you still have a lot of work to do?” he asked.

“A little.”

He had a feeling it was more than she was letting on. After all, he’d helped to convince her to go to the carnival when she was already facing twice her normal workload.

“I can help.”

“Oh no, I can do it.”

“When are you going to sleep?” Not only would she have to finish the prep work, she’d also have to serve all day the next day by herself, and then pack up and drive to their next location along with the rest of the crew.

“I’ll be okay.”

“Please let me help you. I’m actually decent in the kitchen.” After all, he’d often cooked for his mom because she worked such long hours.

“I don’t know.” She looked beyond him, as if hordes of angry fans might descend.

“No one else is awake except two members of the security staff, and they’re busy watching the other direction.”

She still seemed uncertain, but she finally nodded. “Okay, maybe for a few minutes.”

He stepped up into the truck and grabbed the blue apron with white ruffles around the edges. As he put it on, he noticed Eun-Soo trying to hide her amusement.

“What? I think it looks great on me.” He struck a pose and was rewarded with hearing her laugh.

“You’re right. It looks fabulous.”

He smiled then gestured at their surroundings. “Tell me want to do, boss.”

She had him finish cutting the scallions and mushrooms for the yukgaejang while she prepared the spicy shredded beef.

“It’s supposed to rain tomorrow, so spicy beef soup seemed like a good option.”

“I agree. But I want to know what the sweet treat of the day will be.”

“Red bean buns.”

He made a sound of appreciation. “Sounds delicious, though I do have to say it’ll take a lot to beat my mom’s.”

“It’s probably difficult to beat a mother’s cooking.”

Why did she sound as if she didn’t have any experience eating her mother’s cooking?

She glanced up at him, and he saw the moment she was able to read the question in his mind.

“My mom was a single parent, like yours,” she said. “She died in a hiking accident when I was three, and I grew up with my uncle. He did his best, but he wasn’t a good cook. It’s why I started cooking when I was little. I used to watch cooking shows and try out the simpler recipes we could afford.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“How could you? It’s not as if I have “Orphan Eun-Soo’s Food Truck” written on the side,” she said, motioning toward the service side of the truck.

It was one of those moments when Yu-Jin remembered that as difficult as his growing-up years had been, there was always someone who’d had it harder.

“Your uncle must be proud of you now,” he said.

A sad smile tugged at the edges of her mouth. “I think he would be.”

Oh God, had he died too?

“He had a bad stroke a couple of years ago. He hung on for a while, but he wasn’t able to survive a second one.”

“I’m so sorry.” Yu-Jin reached over without thinking and placed his hand over hers where he lay on the prep table.

He noticed that she didn’t move. Instead, she looked down at his hand atop hers. Yu-Jin had made the gesture out of sympathy for her many losses, but suddenly his heart rate picked up.

“Thank you,” she finally said, then looked up at him. “I really admire the relationship you have with your mother. You seem very close.”

“We are.” He hesitated for a moment, unsure whether he should voice the thought that had popped into his head. “I’m sure she’d really like you.”

“Me?”

He smiled at the disbelief in her voice. “Yeah. You’re nice, a hard worker, have your own business.” Yu-Jin hesitated for a moment, feeling as if every one of his nerves was crackling like a lit firecracker fuse. “And you’re…very pretty.”

Yu-Jin glanced over and saw utter shock on Eun-Soo’s face.

“Why do you look so surprised?”

“I think I’m hearing things.”

He slowly shook his head. “No. You heard me correctly. You have to know you’re pretty, right?”

“I…” Her complete loss for words was endearing.

“You might not believe me, but I’m really nervous right now,” he said. “But Kaito and LeYe told me I should tell you that…I like you.”

“What?” Again, Eun-Soo appeared as if she’d misheard him.

Yu-Jin took a deep breath and turned to face her. “I would like to take you out sometime.”

Eun-Soo took a step away from him and then another, looking panicked. His heart sank. Was she afraid he was going to force himself on her? It was obvious she wasn’t interested, so he backed away, putting more distance between them.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I thought you might reciprocate my feelings.” He felt like getting a bucket of water and pouring it on Kaito’s and LeYe’s heads. Now things were going to be really awkward. He would have to stay away from her food truck and try not to make that fact obvious to the crew. He quickly took off the apron and hung it back on the hook by the door. “Please forget what I said. I won’t bother you anymore.”

He nearly slipped and fell as he exited the truck, but he couldn’t get away fast enough.

EUN-SOO REACHED out as if to stop Yu-Jin, but he was already gone. She sank onto the stool and let her face drop into her hands. She had handled that as badly as she possibly could, her reaction telegraphing one thing when she’d meant another.

Of course she liked him. How could she not? He was kind, funny, talented, took care of his mother, and was incredibly handsome. It had taken all her willpower to not have hearts in her eyes whenever he approached the truck for coffee or something to eat. But because he was all those things, he shouldn’t be with her. He’d already gone through enough when his mother’s decision to take out those loans had surfaced. Though he’d been able to weather the flurry of coverage that had brought about, she didn’t know if his luck would extend to dating someone like her, someone without any family or home. Someone who should only be a work acquaintance.

But in her effort to protect him, she’d evidently hurt him instead. It almost didn’t seem possible that she’d have that kind of power, and yet she’s seen the look on his face. Her heart ached at the memory of it.

She wanted to tell him how she felt, but it was too risky—for his career and her heart. Because if she let herself, she knew deep down that she could really fall for him. The instant attraction when she’d met him made it obvious that it wasn’t just his looks or talent that drew her. She’d known about those things before. But there had been a magnetism she’d felt toward him the moment he’d stepped up to the service window of her truck and ordered a rolled omelet and the strongest coffee she could make. She’d never experienced anything like it, and it had made not watching him every moment of the filming extremely difficult. It had caused her to cave to desire and go to the carnival earlier when she should have been working.

Work was where she needed to focus all her energy and thoughts. Getting picked as the food service for this production had been a huge accomplishment, a welcome surprise, and she couldn’t do anything to endanger that. If she was fired from this job, she might never book another. It was frighteningly possible that she’d lose her business and her truck, which unknown to anyone else also served as her home because she couldn’t afford to operate her business and pay rent at the same time.

When you lived that close to the financial edge, there was no room for love.

With that thought settling like a dark cloud over her heart, she pulled herself to her feet to finish the prep for the next day. At least no one saw her continue to have to wipe away tears as she worked.

“AREN’T YOU COMING?” Kaito asked when he and LeYe started toward the food truck but Yu-Jin didn’t follow.

“I’m not hungry.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his friends look at each other.

“What’s going on?” LeYe asked.

Instead of answering, Yu-Jin walked in the opposite direction, as if he was going to talk with the director. But he bypassed where the crew were setting up to try to get some shots in before the rain began. The air was heavy with humidity and low clouds, and the truth was, some of Eun-Soo’s spicy beef soup would be awesome right now. But he aimed to keep his promise that he’d maintain his distance. He wouldn’t be able to continue not eating or risk questions from others, but for today he could manage until dinner. He didn’t honestly have much of an appetite anyway.

But right then, the director said she wanted to get some shots of the three of them eating while staring out at the sea. Before he could tell her he wasn’t hungry, Kaito stepped up to him and gave him a breakfast sandwich and a large coffee.

As they were filming outside their tent, eating breakfast, , Yu-Jin did his best to shove thoughts of Eun-Soo out of his mind. It proved difficult to keep himself from looking back at her food truck to see if she was okay. He would hate it if his confession the night before had erased her smile and friendly interactions with the crew. When he thought of how she’d backed away from him, he found it difficult to swallow.

The rain was just beginning as the camera crew filmed them taking down their tent. Thankfully, this time the wind didn’t catch it and send it sailing down the beach.

“That’s good,” the director said.

Their managers told them to get into the van and they’d bring them some coffee. Yu-Jin couldn’t help a glance toward Eun-Soo’s truck as he passed by, but she was busy with the line of people waiting for food and beverages.

“Okay, while we’re by ourselves, tell us what’s going on,” LeYe said once the three of them were in the van.

Yu-Jin didn’t want to talk about it, but he knew LeYe and Kaito wouldn’t let it go. And maybe if he vented now, it would help him not show his true feelings as the filming progressed.

“I took your advice and it bombed spectacularly.”

“What? You told Eun-Soo you like her?”

“Yes. And she seemed horrified by the idea.”

Kaito shook his head. “That’s not right.”

“It’s her prerogative to not like me. I wish I hadn’t said anything.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I’ve seen the way she watches you sometimes, and it’s like when Hye-Won is with Ji-Hyun or Hae-Ri is with Hoon.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen it too, and I’m surrounded by people whose faces light up like that when they see the person they love.”

“Eun-Soo doesn’t love me. She doesn’t even like me. Trust me, that much was obvious.”

Somehow they managed to get him to relay the details of what happened in excruciating detail.

Right then, Jung Jae-Won, who was SBG’s manager but was also helping Yu-Jin on this project, showed up with Yoon Jae-Woong, Sky High’s manager. They came bearing not only coffee but miniature rolled sponge cakes on which Eun-Soo had written all three of their names in chocolate.

Kaito leaned forward and whispered next to Yu-Jin’s ear. “That doesn’t look like someone who doesn’t like you.”

“It’s just work.”

But even as he said the words, a piece of his heart fluttered because unless his eyes were deceiving him his name was written bigger than Kaito’s and LeYe’s.

EUN-SOO WAS thankful for the drive to Gyeongju, even though it felt as if the heavens were releasing a month’s worth of rain in a single day. But she needed the time alone when she didn’t have to fake smiles and strain against the desire to seek out Yu-Jin out in crowd. She hadn’t realized how often she watched him until she had to force herself not to. She needed to apologize to him, to tell him he was a nice guy and he’d just startled her. But she had to figure out how to do that without encouraging him.

Halfway through the drive, she pulled over at a gas station. The wind whipped her hair into her face as she pumped the gas into the truck. As she pushed it behind her ear, a van pulled in behind her. She spotted Song Hye-Won and the rest of the stylists who were traveling with the production. When Hye-Won smiled and waved at her, Eun-Soo reciprocated.

A few minutes later, they met up inside the convenience store next to the cup ramen.

“Not as tasty as your food, but it sounds good on a day like today,” Hye-Won said as she held up one of the large containers.

“Agreed.”

Once they’d both prepared the steaming ramen, they naturally gravitated toward the seating area along the front window. The rest of the stylists had returned to their van with their food purchases.

“Don’t you want to join your friends?” Eun-Soo asked.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you.”

“Me?”

“You seem different today, sad.”

Eun-Soo immediately shook her head. “Just tired. Because Se-Bin couldn’t work, I had a late night and then didn’t sleep well.”

Actually, she hadn’t slept at all. When she’d finally crawled into the tiny bunk, she’d been mentally and physically exhausted and yet she hadn’t been able to calm her mind or heart enough to sleep. The look on Yu-Jin’s face when she’d backed away from him kept replaying in her mind. She’d tried to convince herself that he’d been worried that she’d make his advances public and ruin his career, but even with having known him only a short time she knew that wasn’t true. And yet she still couldn’t get her brain to accept that he might truly like her.

“Thinking about Yu-Jin?”

Eun-Soo jerked her gaze to Hye-Won so quickly it gave her away.

“That’s what I thought,” Hye-Won said. “Because he looks as miserable today as you do.”

“He does?” Her heart ached at the thought that she could have possibly caused him distress.

“I’d apologize for talking behind your back, but it’s been done with good intentions. Kaito told me that Yu-Jin confessed to you, but that he believes you don’t feel the same about him. To those of us looking at the situation from the outside, that doesn’t seem to be true.”

Eun-Soo looked down at her ramen, the uneaten noodles cooling and swelling. Could she take a chance telling the truth? So much was at stake, for both of them.

“If you’re worried about the company, then it’ll be all right. Things have been changing. If it’s the fans, I won’t lie. It takes some getting used to and some of them can be ugly, but some of them are actually lovely and supportive too.”

“But I’m not the type of person he should be with.”

“What does that mean?”

Eun-Soo wasn’t sure why the words started flowing, but they did. Maybe she’d held them inside for so long that they could no longer be contained. She told Hye-Won about her family, the way she had Yu-Jin the night before, but she went further.

“I live in my truck,” she said as she pointed toward where she’d parked at the edge of the lot. “I hope to make my business such a success that I can get an apartment, but I’m not there yet. Can you imagine if fans and the media found that out? They would think I’m using Yu-Jin for money.”

“Some people will always find fault, even where there is none.”

“But he’s been through so much already.”

“Then shouldn’t he be happy with the person he likes?”

Eun-Soo had no response to that.

“If you date him, there will be challenges. I won’t say otherwise. But if you like him the way he likes you, I think it’s worth it. I worried about a lot of similar things when Ji-Hyun told me he liked me, but I’m glad I didn’t listen to all the voices telling me a million different reasons to not be with him. I’m glad I listened to one that said the world is a tough place, so we should grab onto happiness when it appears in front of us.”

What Hye-Won was saying made sense, but Eun-Soo still didn’t know if confessing her true feelings to Yu-Jin was worth the risk.

Hye-Won slid her phone toward Eun-Soo. The screen showed the SNS account devoted to pictures of her treats.

“Director Bang showed me this. I don’t know who is doing it, but I’m thankful for the exposure.”

“Look carefully at the last photo.”

Eun-Soo clicked on it to make the photo fill the screen.

“Notice anything familiar?”

Eun-Soo nodded. “It’s one of the pastries I handed out to the crew before we left Naksan.”

“Look beyond the pastry.”

Beyond the pastry? Then she saw it, the bright green canvas sneakers that she’d seen several times over the past couple of weeks.

“Now look at his personal account.”

Eun-Soo’s hands started to shake as she navigated to Yu-Jin’s account, but she saw no pictures of the pastry or any of her food or drink items there. It was as if she could feel dots connecting in her head.

“He…” She looked up at Hye-Won. “Yu-Jin made that account?”

Hye-Won nodded. “Looks to me like he wanted to support you without you knowing.”

Or maybe without the fans knowing.

Even so, Eun-Soo’s heart filled with affection nearly to bursting.

“Do you think it would really turn out okay? I’d never forgive myself for hurting him.”

But wasn’t that apparently what she’d done the night before?

“I think it’s worth at least trying. You don’t want to have any what-might-have-been regrets.”

After Hye-Won finished her ramen and left the store, Eun-Soo sat watching the rain pour down. She had always lived so carefully because it had been a necessity. What would it be like to take such a leap of faith? Was it worth the risk?

The memory of Yu-Jin placing his hand on hers and telling her that he liked her told her the answer was yes. While she waited for the right opportunity to talk to him, she took out her phone and pulled the newest photo from the account that Yu-Jin had evidently started to secretly support her and her business. She edited out his shoes then added the photo to her own feed, typed “Thank you for the support,” and then let her finger hover above the emojis. Should she do it? Would he even see it?

Stop asking yourself so many questions and take action.

She added a heart emoji and posted.

Then she tossed her uneaten ramen in the trash and ran through the rain to her truck. She needed to make things right. She needed to tell Yu-Jin the truth and hope she hadn’t ruined any chance she had with him.

DETERMINED to act as if nothing had happened, Yu-Jin resumed going to Eun-Soo’s truck for food and much-needed jolts of caffeine the next day as they began filming in Gyeongju. He’d been friendly but not overly so. He hadn’t let his eyes linger on her, hadn’t allowed his hand to touch hers as she handed him his coffee or wrapped food.

When filming ended for the day, he sat outside the hanok where they were staying and called his mom. But even that conversation didn’t lift his mood. How had he allowed himself to fall so hard and fast for Eun-Soo? Or did humans even have any sort of control over that sort of thing?

The neighborhood was quiet and the fans that had congregated earlier had gone home, figuring they wouldn’t catch any glimpses of him and his friends at such a late hour. Since they’d finally driven out of the rain as they approached Gyeongju the day before, he decided to go for a walk that would hopefully help him fall asleep when he returned.

When he stepped out of the courtyard, he noticed that there was no light coming from Eun-Soo’s truck. She’d hopefully finished her work and was getting some much-needed rest tonight. She’d looked so tired earlier that he’d wanted to shoulder some of her burden.

But he couldn’t do that. She wouldn’t want him to.

As he headed down the street, he spotted someone walking toward him with their head lowered. He considered retracing his steps, but instead he reached for the mask that was always in his pocket. But then the other person lifted their head and he saw it was Eun-Soo. He froze mid-motion for a couple of seconds, then shoved the mask back in his pocket.

“I’m sorry,” he said, then started to turn around.

“Yu-Jin,” she said, and the way she said it made him hope that the post she’d made the day before meant more than she just loved her work or that someone was sharing it with the online world. “Can we talk?”

He slowly turned back to face her. “If you want.”

“I do.” She pointed down the street. “There’s a park where we can sit.”

“Okay.”

Neither of them said anything until they were at the park. As he scanned the area, there was no one around and no lights on in any of the windows. Surprisingly, he didn’t see any CCTV cameras either. If there was a safe place in the country for them to talk, this was it.

“I want to apologize for the other night,” he said as he sat on the opposite end of a bench from her.

“No, I’m the one who should apologize.” She clasped her hands together as if she was nervous. “You just…I was surprised.”

“I don’t want you to feel pressured. I’ll keep things professional from now on.”

“What if I don’t want you to?”

He looked at her, unsure if he’d heard her correctly.

“My reaction wasn’t because I don’t like you. It was because I was afraid to like you in return, but I evidently have no control over that.”

“What are you saying?”

She took a slow, deep breath, then let it out just as slowly before meeting his gaze.

“I’m saying I like you too. But I’m also afraid.”

“Why?” His voice broke a little as he spoke.

For the next several minutes, she shared her reasons. When she told him that she was living in her truck, he found himself wanting to help her however he could. But he didn’t say that. He knew how important it was to do things on one’s own because that’s how he was as well.

“I have a feeling that you’ll be so successful soon that you won’t have to worry about rent. I bet your place will be cute too, like your truck.”

“Thank you for the account you set up and for sharing pictures of the things I make.”

“How…?”

She pointed toward his feet. “Your shoes gave you away.”

He was confused at first and then realized he hadn’t cropped the most recent photo before posting it.

“I didn’t do it just because I like you. Everything you make is really good. They rival any café in Seoul.”

She smiled then, the first real smile he’d seen since before his confession. But then it faded.

“Do you understand why I’m worried?”

“Yes,” he said. “And I respect that. But I’m not worried.” At least not anymore. “LeYe reminded me that I have the backing of the company. And like a lot of other artists, I’ve come to the belief that we deserve to be happy in the ways that anyone outside the industry is. Being an idol is a very visible, time-consuming job, but that’s what it is—a job. I refuse to feed the delusion that no one is more important than fans I don’t know. They are important but they aren’t the top of the list. The more artists who take that stance, the better for everyone—artists and fans alike.”

Eun-Soo was quiet after his answer, and he allowed her to sit and process what he’d said.

“Are you sure?” she finally asked.

She sounded so vulnerable that he couldn’t keep the distance between them. He slid across the bench toward her and took one of her hands between his.

“I’m positive. But it’s up to you whether you are willing to date me. It would make me really happy, but I know it’s a lot to wade into. I’m not an accountant or teacher or delivery driver. The spotlight is on me a lot, and if we date it would be on you to some extent too. Only you can decide if it’s worth it.”

She took so long to respond that he began preparing himself for rejection, despite how she felt about him. And he wouldn’t be able to blame her. After all, she’d no doubt seen how rocky the road had been for his friends as they’d started dating, even if they were all happy now.

After several long moments, Eun-Soo entwined her fingers with his and looked up at him.

“Joahaeyo, Byun Yu-Jin. I like you a lot. I don’t think I can walk away. I don’t want to walk away.”

A surge of happiness filled Yu-Jin, and he felt as if his smile literally stretched from one of his ears to the other. He lifted his hand and cupped her cheek, rubbing his thumb gently across her soft skin that was cool in the damp air.

“I’ll protect you as much as I can,” he said.

“And I’ll do the same for you.”

“You know what would be really awesome right now?”

“A cupcake?’

He shook his head as his gaze dropped to her lips.

“Oh.”

When he lifted his gaze back to her eyes, she looked embarrassed, but still gave him the slightest of nods. With his heart beating so fast he could hear it against his eardrums, he slid his hand to the back of her head and lowered his mouth to hers.

She tasted sweeter than any pastry that had ever come out of her food truck.

About the Author

Trish Milburn is the author of more than 50 novels and novellas for multiple publishers and via indie publishing. She also works as a freelance journalist and copy editor. This story is a special addition to her Idol in Love series set in the world of K-pop. If you’d like to read about Kaito, LeYe and the rest of the members of SBG and Sky High, check out the books in the series beginning with Sing Me a Love Song. Visit WordoftheK.com to find out more about the books, the connected Could Have Been a K-Drama series, and regular blog posts about Korean entertainment.

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MADMAN’S ICE SKATERS

V.F. MASON

AS I CLOSE the car door with my foot, a smile curves my mouth when my seven-year-old daughter screams, her voice reverberating through the space and making a few people around us wince. “Hurry up, Daddy! We’re late!” Her ponytails bounce on her head as she races toward the massive round building with double gates, her shoes tapping soundly on the concrete.

The wind whooshes over me, blasting my face with cold. I look up to see the clouds gathering together, ready to pour rain on us at any minute, which might turn into a powerful storm that’ll swipe away everything in its wake.

I should know; I withstood a lot of them back in my youth.

After all, the weather on our island can change in the blink of an eye. From a sunny day to a gloomy evening in which vices and sins rule in such a way you have to watch your back to survive.

Thankfully, when you’re the devil himself, it’s rare anyone dares to go against you or tries to threaten you.

Especially not in the town that belongs to you.

The booming thunder in the sky snaps me out of my dark thoughts that have become less frequent in the past years. Ever since a nightmare stopped being my reality, and instead, a bittersweet dream took its place, healing the wounded parts of my soul in ways I never expected.

For when a man allows himself to love to the point of insanity… he might just find his salvation and be rewarded for all the shit that has been done to him.

I grin at my son, Von, hurrying next to me, the backpack on his shoulder rattling as he speedily walks, adjusting his glasses on his nose while big headphones hang on his neck and blast rock music. The boy discovered the genre a few months back, and my ears haven’t gotten a rest ever since. He’s even considering drum lessons, and God help us all then.

I’ll have to build him a separate house, where he can do all his practicing on our land.

The perks of being rich never felt sweeter.

“I have a test tomorrow.” He frowns, his green eyes—my eyes—staring back at me with annoyance as he huffs in displeasure. “I need to be at home studying.” He runs his fingers through his dark hair before lifting the hood of his hoodie onto his head. “Why did you drag me here?” He gazes ahead of him once again. “I hate ice-skating.” An echo of pain dances on the edges of his tone, and my beaten and bruised heart pangs painfully, the beast inside me roaring at the desire to protect my cub and fix whatever tortures him.

So he wouldn’t wake up at night crying out in agony or hide his anguish behind a harsh exterior, rude behavior, and complete disinterest in everything going on around him.

Or I wouldn’t get countless phone calls from the principal about him getting into fights with kids, skipping his classes, and mouthing back to his teachers. His only saving grace is that the entire town loves him and understands him in a way—although lately, I think even they’ve gotten tired of giving him any slack.

However, the man in me knows I’m powerless to help him, as the injury he got on the rink seven months ago put an indefinite pause, if not a stop, on his professional figure skating career.

Any prolonged pause at this age and stage might mean an end to his dreams of winning the gold in any future tournaments.

My fists clench as the familiar fear fills my blood, along with fury, just remembering watching my baby boy, my firstborn, jumping high in the air and trying to do a triple axel, only to land on his bent knee. He broke his leg in three places, plus a head injury that knocked him unconscious.

My heart galloped in my chest as I raced down to the rink, through the crowd’s screams and horrified gasps, focusing only on getting to my kid and praying he was alive.

I still shudder at the thought of the first hours in the hospital, holding my sobbing wife in my arms as we waited for the surgery to end, the doctors unoptimistic in their diagnosis.

And the overpowering relief when they finally emerged from the OR and told us he’d made it and should have a quick recovery.

Only the quick recovery turned into months of physical therapy with no hope in sight.

We also found him psychological help, although he didn’t share much and refused to talk on most days during his therapy sessions.

According to the shrink, he’s still processing his grief. We all might never have said it out loud, but he suspects that no matter how much he does in PT, he won’t ever be able to professionally skate again.

And for a child who’s loved the ice since he was two, it’s almost like losing his entire identity and the compass guiding him in this life.

“River wanted you here,” I finally reply to his angry outburst, and I see his jaw clench as he kicks open the door, letting us in, and instantly the familiar buzzing of the ice-skating rink fills my ears.

“Yeah, well, maybe she needs to learn that sometimes we don’t get what we want,” he grumbles. “Would be a good lesson to a spoiled seven-year-old.” But despite the heat in his voice, he still drags his ass to the rink in while he’ll eventually sit on one of the benches, where River is already lacing up her skates, ready to jump on the ice.

If it were anyone but my fifteen-year-old son who made this backhanded comment about my sweet princess who brightens up any space she occupies and is nothing but kind to anyone, I would have flipped.

I guess I should be grateful he at least refuses to upset his younger sister, who adores him to pieces, always hanging on him or reading her books next to him.

When he was in the hospital, she would sit by his side and talk to him for hours, even when he ignored her or just stared into the distance. However, she was the only one he stayed civil to and gave his occasional smiles.

Sometimes, I don’t recognize my own kid, and that’s a scary thing in itself, considering my past.

Because if we give our souls to the darkness and rage constantly present in us and let it win within us… we can never wash away the dirt permanently attaching itself to us.

The only choice is to thrive in darkness, find pleasure in the chaos swirling around us and become stronger.

I haven’t gone through so much shit in life for my son to be soaked in the darkness that should have never been part of him.

So I will do anything in my power to guide him into the light, where he belongs. Even if it means bearing his hot temper and rude comments while resisting the desire to scream at him to snap out of this shit and let us help him.

I’m afraid in such moments, I would talk to him about my past, a past that’s so hideous even some monsters are afraid of it.

It’s a burden no one should carry, especially not my son. I know better than anyone what it feels like to think your dream is forever lost to you and you have to merely exist in this cruel world, never to find joy again. And yet my boy has all the possibilities still open to him, and he has to find strength to seek them out.

He is my son; we survive no matter what destiny throws our way.

“You’re free to tell River you want to leave,” I tell him, and he glares at me again, clearly not wanting to be the bad guy in her eyes. I just shrug. “The choice is always yours, son.” I ruffle his hair, and he jerks his head back, making me wonder if I was such an ass during my teenage years.

But then I remember—I lived in constant hell, where the only saving grace had been a girl with the purest heart and mesmerizing violet eyes who was a life preserver keeping me afloat and not letting me die in misery and alone.

Arianna.

My beautiful wife who fills every cell in my body with love and warmth, gluing back together the scattered pieces of my soul that knew no calmness or reprieve until destiny reunited us again all those years ago.

She was mine the minute she was born. Our fates entwined as we grew up and faced horrible things together.

My one and only love, the only woman I’ve ever touched, who belongs to me and I to her because existing in this world without her is impossible.

A man cannot live without his heart and soul. She’s the oxygen keeping the monster living inside me breathing, accepting him in all his forms and variations.

My salvation, reward, and redemption all in one.

We reach the benches just in time for River to get up, shaking her legs and removing her jacket. That leaves her standing in a thick sweater along with the warm leggings we bought specifically for her training.

With a mother who lived and breathed this sport at one point in her life, winning various competitions and heading toward glorious fame only to fall from the top when hideous people decided to destroy her, it was no wonder she took our kids to the ice rink from an early age.

Von was just two years old when we bought him his first pair of skates. He wobbled on the ice as we both held him by his hands, yet his face lit up with so much joy I couldn’t help but catch it on camera.

And then he fell in love with it too, asking us to take him there constantly before one of the coaches approached us and asked if we wanted to sign him up.

I glance at my son, who drops on the bench and kicks his feet up on the one in front of him, closing his eyes and crossing his arms. He shows a complete lack of interest in the ice he loved so much that he didn’t dare get on it while angry or dirty because he considered it disrespectful. Right at this moment, I wish we never agreed with the coach, despite some good memories about it and his obvious talent.

As this talent now brings him nothing but pain that none of us seems to know how to heal.

“These skates are so pretty, Daddy!” River exclaims as she stomps around in her purple skates with her name engraved on them. During the last competition among juniors, hers got lost, so we had to order a new pair.

While Von got into the sport because he fell in love with it, River enjoyed coming to the rink to watch her brother. She’d stare at his practices with Arianna and then randomly asked one day if she could do what he did.

We agreed, of course, and ended up having two kids engrossed in a sport, which made the current situation even more difficult.

How do you show it’s okay to give up to your son when you still have to travel with your daughter to her championships and see him suffer when he hears about her accomplishments?

“Whatever, River,” Von snaps. She jumps a little at his tone, the smile slipping from her lips, and I’ve finally tolerated enough of his shit.

“Von.” I just say his name, but he must hear the warning in it as he opens his eyes, and our gazes clash. We stubbornly stare at one another, each one of us trying to control our tempers.

Which is hilarious because character-wise, he is my son to a T, and if there is one thing we both hate, it’s to give in and give up, always striving to win an argument in our favor no matter what.

I’m a billionaire with a corporation who owns this town and half the island we all live on.

I didn’t get all this by being nice and understanding or a quitter. Yes, I was born into wealth, but that would mean nothing if you weren’t smart or didn’t know how to rule your kingdom.

Finally, after a second, he rolls his eyes, and I see a flicker of shame in his gaze when he addresses River. “Sorry, princess. Those are killer skates.” He winks at her, and she giggles, lifting her foot and wiggling it a little to give him a better view. “Go have fun.”

I’m about to take my seat, but River shakes her head. “No! We can’t. You have to wear these.” She points at the pair of skates near us. “I have an important assignment!”

Von furrows his brows. “Assignment?”

She nods. “We need to participate in a tea party together and take a picture for my English class. The instruction was to have a tea party in the place you love most.” She opens her arms wide and spins around gracefully on the ice. “And I love the rink!”

We share a look, and alarm bells start to go off in my head as I play back the conversation I had with my wife earlier.

Arianna straddles my lap, her scent tickling my nostrils and instantly making me hard. I grip her hips, pressing her closer to me, and a soft moan slips past her lips. She circles her arms around my neck, our mouths a breath away from each other.

“Hello, my darling,” I say right before biting on her lower lip, pulling it to the side and then licking it, soothing the abused flesh. “Miss me?”

She had an early practice at her dancing school. She woke up before me, as—according to her—I distract her too much to focus on teaching, and her team is about to win some tournament. So we haven’t seen each other since this morning, and that’s just unacceptable.

What’s the fucking point of owning a town if I can’t see my wife whenever the hell I want?

The memory makes me growl, my fingers digging into her ass, and I feel her pointed nipples through her see-through, tiny shirt, rubbing on my bare chest, the air hitching in her throat.

She slides forward, almost grinding on my hard-on, and whispers back, “Like crazy, baby.” And that’s all the invitation I need, slamming my mouth on hers and entwining our tongues in a passionate kiss, staking my claim on her all over again and reminding her that she’s mine and mine alone.

I swallow her moan and hike her dress up until my splayed palms connect with her bare flesh, and she gasps, tearing her lips away and gulping for breath as she arches her neck. My lips trail down the column, sucking on her pulse point and leaving hickeys on my way while her nails dig into my nape. “Eudard.”

Fuck, nothing is hotter for me in this world than hearing my wife call me by my name.

To know it’s me she wants, craves, and burns for.

I get up, her legs wrapping around me as I walk us to our room, all while capturing her mouth in yet another kiss, her body growing hot while the need to fuck her hard consumes me.

Finally in our room, I throw her on the bed, where she bounces a little before erupting in laughter when she lands on her back, only for it to turn into a prolonged moan when I shoulder her legs apart. Gripping her hips, I bring her center closer to my mouth.

“Eudard.” She laces her fingers in my hair, arching her back when I take a long lick, welcoming her taste on my tongue. “You distracted me,” she complains, but with how she rubs her heel on my back, encouraging me to continue, I know she doesn’t mind. “You have to pick up the kids from school today,” she manages to say and groans when I stab my tongue deep inside her, swirling it between her folds and placing my arm on her stomach to keep her still as I get my fill of her.

And for the rest of the evening, I spend my time making my wife come over and over again.

Though the memory in itself can make me hard and hot for my wife again, I return to the situation at hand and detect a trap set up for me. While we don’t have rules in this marriage of who does what in it, Arianna prefers to pick up the kids from school. Our driver usually waits for them and then safely delivers them to me.

I might rule this town, but monsters exist in this world, horrible creatures ready to sink their claws into anyone they see fit just for the fun of it. I have a family and peace now, yet I haven’t stopped hunting those I feel are deserving of my punishment.

Arianna accepted this part of me a long time ago, and her arms are always welcoming when I return from assignments, soothing the raging inferno within me.

Darkness soaked me up ages ago when I fell from heaven into a bottomless pit, yet… my angel of a wife extended her hand to me and held mine so tight that I knew it would never consume me again.

Just live in me to help those who need it, so there will be fewer Madmen in this world.

We even opened a summer program in town, focusing on the abused kids who come here from all over the country and heal, staying as long as they need and under my protection. They can stay permanently if they want and get a job or even a new identity.

I have wealth and power, which means everything is possible for me. And what power I might not have, I can always call my friends.

If there is an idiot who thinks he can go against us, I haven’t seen one yet.

Speaking of my friends…

Didn’t they all participate in some kind of princess challenge a few years back with their daughters? We got sent so many hilarious pictures with all those dark fuckers wearing crowns, and one of them even wore a pink tutu.

That picture was framed and gifted to him, so he could hang it in his office. His expression was the funniest shit we’ve ever seen, and we laughed our asses off.

Despite all the teasing, he’s kept the picture and still shows it off proudly because he loves his daughter dearly.

I was spared from the tea parties back then because we had a son and had just found out we were pregnant with River.

I thought the phase was over, but apparently, the trap was just waiting for me for better times.

“Daddy?” River calls my name and comes closer, wrapping her arms around my waist as she looks up at me. “You’ll participate in the tea party with me, right?”

Considering how much I teased my friends back in the day, their revenge will be never-ending, but it doesn’t matter. Because if my daughter wants something, she gets it, for none of my kids will ever doubt my love for them.

My wife, though? Oh, her punishment will be long and seductive until she begs me to take her.

I can’t wait to bite into all these curves for deceiving me like this.

“Of course, my princess.” I hug her close, and she exhales in relief before grinning widely at me.

“You’re the best, Daddy!” she exclaims and then motions with her head toward the rink. “Everything is ready.”

That’s when I notice a round table set up on the ice in the distance, a purple cloth covering it while there are four porcelain cups on saucers, along with various pastries, chocolates, carrot cupcakes—my kid’s favorite—cookies, and bread with butter and some strawberry jam.

To my surprise, our butler, James, is standing next to it and pouring tea into the cups while adjusting the silverware on it. I’ve never seen the old man in anything but his regular uniform, so him wearing jeans and a sweatshirt now, along with skates, makes me whistle. “Nice outfit, James.”

The old man frowns at me. “Cut it out, boy,” he warns and then smiles at River. “Everything is ready, little miss.”

“Yay!” She raises her arms up and then pats my chest. “Wear the skates, Daddy.” She then jumps toward Von, who looks at everything with an unreadable expression, and gently touches his shoulder. “Big brother, come on.” There is so much hope lacing her voice, and then it dawns on me.

Von hasn’t been on the ice since his accident. He got the all clear to skate but showed zero enthusiasm for it and flat-out ignored any suggestions about getting back to it.

“The ice betrayed me.”

The exact phrase he used once, and as his psychologist explained to us, he considered ice his best friend who turned its back on him when he slipped.

Everyone processes trauma differently, but for Von, he had to find an outlet for his anger, and he chose the ice, which also represents the end to his career and dreams.

“I’m not doing this,” he says evenly, yet warning coats his tone. However, River doesn’t listen to it.

“But, Von, you have to! This assignment—”

“I don’t care, River,” he snaps and raises his splayed hand at me. “I’m not getting on the ice, Dad!” He almost shouts the last part, standing up and breathing heavily, while River steps back, a bit scared from his outburst.

One of the hardest things as a parent of two… you have to learn how to balance it all, so your affection for one kid won’t ruin the relationship with the other.

And sometimes you have to hurt one of your kids in order to protect the other because that’s how much you love them both.

“River, darling, Von won’t get on the ice.” After a second, she nods, and I run my hand over her head. “Go get set up, and I will be there shortly for the tea party.”

She nods once again and then hugs Von tight while he freezes. “I love you, Von.” That’s all she says before darting onto the rink, gliding flawlessly on the ice toward James, who murmurs something to her, although I don’t miss how he shakes his head at me and sends Von a worried look.

I sit on the bench and put on the skates as silence falls on us. Von’s standing still, his fists clenching and unclenching. “Was this Mom’s plan?” Our gazes clash at his question. “Her new method to try to make me practice?”

On the grand scale of things, Von can still go back to the professional sport, even if the chances of him lasting in it are very slim. That would require rigorous training, though, and withstanding a lot of pain. As stubborn as my kid is, I thought he would jump at the opportunity. However, he just gave up on the sport altogether.

“I said I don’t want to do it anymore.” A bitter laugh slips past his lips. “I thought I made that abundantly clear.”

Boy, did he.

During one of his latest outbursts, he destroyed the shelf holding all his awards and ordered James to throw it out.

I get up and then put my hand on his nape, shifting him closer to me. “Son, we all love you in this family and want to help you.” I squeeze him a little. “But there always comes a time in a person’s life when they have to make a choice. To be the best versions of themselves or someone who succumbs to the darkness inside them.” I tap on his chest above his heart. “And only you can make that choice. We’re here for you no matter what.” He swallows hard, his lost eyes showing me once again that he’s still my baby boy who doesn’t know what to do with such an unfortunate event in his life. “And we will love you no matter what.”

A beat passes, and he asks, “But?”

I kiss him on the forehead and then rub his cheek. “You don’t have to get on the ice if you don’t want to. Live your truth, son. But not in a way that makes you lose your heart.” With this, I walk off and step on the ice, skating toward the table while welcoming the coldness on my heated skin and the familiar buzzing of the place.

Back in my teenage years, I spent hours here, stalking my wife and watching her every graceful move, wishing to wrap her tight in my arms and never let go.

A local ice princess who belonged to no one and yet… was always mine.

I didn’t have the privilege of touching her, but my gaze caressed her every move, and I knew she felt it. Because whenever she stopped doing her axels, she’d look up, searching for me in the crowd and then grump in disappointment when she wouldn’t find me.

When we were teenagers, claiming her as mine was a privilege I couldn’t ever afford. It endangered her life.

Now, though?

We frequently come here, just the two of us, where she skates carefree, and we enjoy this moment as much as we can.

Because we know better than anyone what it’s like to live without one another.

River twirls on the ice over and over again, faster with each spin, and then stops, raising her hands up, and laughs when I clap before bowing gracefully to me.

“Nice work, princess. What do we need to do for that assignment?”

Might as well be the best at this whole thing.

“Pick a place, Daddy, and that’s it. Oh, I almost forgot!” She skates to the wooden box next to the table and snatches out a silver crown and then a red blanket. “You have to wear these!”

Well, I guess I’ll have my own version of a pink tutu, after all.

I notice James’s grin and say, “Don’t be so happy, old man.”

He shrugs. “At my age, you have to take enjoyments where you can.” A beat passes. “Besides, this picture will look nice hanging in the hallway.”

Oh, Arianna.

The revenge will be so sweet.

I put the ridiculous crown on the top of my head before taking the blanket and throwing it over my shoulders while River wears her purple one, her favorite color.

Then she places another crown on the table that must have been for Von, who now leans on the rink’s border, watching us broodily.

I drop into the chair, surprised the shit doesn’t move on the ice, and then pick up the steaming porcelain cup, inhaling the scent of green tea. “Arianna’s favorite.”

“Per her request.” He cuts the chocolate cake and puts it on one of the plates along with a fork before picking it up. He snatches up one of the cups as well.

“And where is my beloved wife right now?”

He straightens up as if I insulted him. “I do not spill secrets.”

“James, who signs your paychecks?”

“You do,” he agrees. “But she rules you, so technically, she does.” He winks at me, and I bark a laugh when he skates to Von and gives him his cake, still making him a part of this whole tea party.

River drops onto the chair next to me, picks up a cookie, and munches on it. “Okay, Daddy. Now, we need to take a sip from our cups and look there.” She points to the right, and I do as she says, right before a flash goes off in our faces several times. “Sweet!” Then she yells, “Is it good, Mommy?”

“Oh yes!” I hear my wife, and then, following the voice, I spot her in one of the cabins reserved for the commentators whenever we host championships here.

She waves at us and then blows us all a kiss, although I don’t miss how she glances at Von, clearly upset he refused to participate in the whole thing.

She’s gorgeous in her white costume, hugging all her curves and emphasizing her body. “Come here, darling!”

She emerges from the cabin and quickly descends the stairs before she pauses to put on her skates, all while River munches on her cookie and drinks her tea, murmuring from the corner of her mouth, “Von is staring at us.”

“Yes. Well, Von is hurting.”

“He doesn’t love ice anymore?”

I catch her nose, and she slaps my hand away, giggling. “He needs a bit more time to adjust, princess.”

She rests her chin on her hand as she exhales heavily, finishing her cookie. “I miss skating with him.”

“I know. But right now, he’s not ready, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy.” She dusts off her hands, jumping up and skating speedily toward Arianna, who catches her easily, and they both spin around. “Mama! Do you think we will win the highest grade?”

“Trust me, darling. There will be no loser in this game.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” I inform her, and she chuckles, sliding in my direction and leaving River to do her thing on the ice. Her coach left for a few weeks due to a family emergency, so she has the task of practicing her moves in time for the upcoming tournament.

She’s been struggling with the flip jump lately, though. “Be careful, baby,” I warn her as she warms up, doing several toe loops and then spins before getting in the middle of the rink and skating her routine.

Arianna is finally close enough for me to grab her and put her on my lap as she smiles at me, wrapping her hands around my neck. “Hello, my husband.”

“You’ve been sneaky, my wife.” I drop my voice to a husky whisper. “There will be hell to pay.”

A dreamy expression settles on her face, and she sighs out in anticipation, “I can’t wait.” She kisses me on the lips, and all playfulness is gone from her. “Von.”

Just his name, and yet it says everything.

“You wanted to push him?”

“In a way. I think he keeps it all bottled up inside him, the pain of losing it.” She rubs her chest, pressing her forehead against mine. “I understand his pain. I’ve been in his shoes. I just wish he’d let me help him.”

My heart pangs in my chest, and I hug her close, giving her comfort right now while wondering how to fix this situation for everyone involved.

“Ouch!” River cries out, and our heads swing to the side, seeing her shake her leg as she pants heavily.

“What’s going on, darling?” Arianna asks, concern coating her voice.

“I can’t do a flip jump,” she grumbles. “I either fall or mess it up.”

After having three figure skaters in my family, I’m familiar with the terminology, but before either of us can reply, Von’s voice booms through the space. “Because you need to extend your foot forward before pushing it back, turning, and doing the flip.”

“I do extend it! Like this.” She skates around and then repeats the action, only to mess it up again and huffs in exasperation. “Did you see? I did it!”

“No, River. That was not extending it. You’re barely lifting it. The foot has to be a few inches above the ice. Your skates are scraping the ice when you extend it, which means you give yourself less room for the flip.”

She crosses her arms and stomps her foot stubbornly. “So how do I do it?”

“Lift the foot, duh!”

“I do!”

“Oh, seriously, River? You won’t win a championship if you mess up the flip jumps. Your loops aren’t that strong either.”

I open my mouth to tell him to watch it because while River—objectively speaking—is less talented when it comes to figure skating than Von, she is my kid.

Which means, in my eyes, she is the best, and no one gets to tell her otherwise.

Arianna covers my mouth with her palm, though, shaking her head at me as we continue to watch our kids and listen to their conversation.

“That’s rude, Von!”

“That’s the truth. You’re in sports. With an attitude like that, forget about gold. You won’t even get bronze.”

She gasps and then skates around again, repeating her flip jumps, but every single time, she makes a similar mistake.

On the fifth try, she breathes heavily and rests her hands on her knees, bending forward while Von yells, “One more time and extend the freaking foot, River, or you’ll get hurt.”

“I’m doing my best!”

“For Christ’s sake.”

My eyes widen, and Arianna freezes in my arms when Von grabs the skates, quickly puts them on, and throws his headphones off as he gets on the ice. Even James blinks several times and stands closer to us.

River is too engrossed in her problem to notice her brother getting out on the ice as she dutifully listens to him, when he slides to the middle and orders her, “Watch closely. This is how the flip jumps are done.” He skates around before extending the foot several inches up. “Memorize the movements. And then you swing it in the air, push back”—he does the actions and turns around before finally doing the perfect flip jump—“and land on your skates, keeping your balance.”

“Oh,” she whispers, rolling her shoulders back. “I’m going to try it, but I’m afraid.”

“It’s all right. I’ll be here to catch you. Come on. You need to perfect it to win.”

River gets into position and then does everything he says. She wobbles a little, yet she lands the jump.

Her face lights up, but then she frowns when he orders, “Again.”

She repeats the flip, stronger and more confident this time as Von skates around, studying her movements and motions with his hand. “Again.”

“Von—”

“Again.” His tone accepts no arguments. “This time around, though, do your routine, skate all over the ice, and do the flip then.”

“Whole routine? I don’t even have the music!” she complains, and he rolls his eyes.

“The music has to be in here.” He taps on his temple. “Always memorize your programs to the beat in your head. Sometimes people might play the wrong track. Just by the first beat, you’ll know they messed up.”

She blinks several times at him. “Are you my coach now, Von?”

“Well, no. Because if I was, you would know how to do loops and flips perfectly.”

They stare at one another, their stubborn expressions almost comical as the battle of wills goes full force, with Von winning when Rivers murmurs, “Ugh! Fine.”

She takes a deep breath and then plasters her championship smile on her face before effortlessly performing her usual routine. And on the flip jump, she finally does everything right, finishing it off with a scratching of the ice, and exclaims, “Yay! I did it, Von!” She skates to him at full speed and practically knocks him to the ice when he catches her in his arms, and they spin around several times.

“I knew you could,” he tells her. She leans back, and he tugs on her ponytails. “Because you’re the most talented girl I’ve ever seen.”

She beams under his praise, and then her eyes go round while she swipes her gaze over him. “Von. You’re skating!” She presses her hands to her mouth.

Von’s brow furrows at this, and he glances down as if only just now realizing he’s back on the ice again. He even glides back a little, looking around, swallowing hard.

For a second, complete silence falls on us all, and we watch him in stillness, awaiting his reaction.

And my heart weeps with joy when he gives her his signature cocky grin that we all missed so much. “I guess I am, princess.” Then he grabs her hand, and they skate toward us until he wraps his hand over my shoulder and says, “You’re right, Dad. I made a choice.” Then he addresses James. “Take one more picture of us, so we can all frame this historic moment.” James quickly snatches the camera from the table and walks several feet away to snap a picture while Von wipes away the tear sliding down Arianna’s cheek. “Everything is good, Mom.”

And she smiles at me as I give her a kiss, once again grateful for this amazing life that we have built here from the ashes of our past.

My beloved woman and the two children who cured the pain ruling my every thought.

I don’t know it yet, but River will go on to accomplish big things in figure skating, winning gold medals and becoming quite the sensation.

Von, though?

His injury will never allow him to return to the professional sport. He forms a rock band that will be famous worldwide, for which he will write all the songs as he plays the drums.

Yet during all the championships and whenever River needs him, he’ll be by her side every single time to support her.

Once upon a time, an angel fell in love with a madman whose soul resided in darkness.

And their life has been nothing but endless bliss ever since.

The End

This is a bonus story for a dark enemies to lovers romance Madman Duet.

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HER RUSSIAN BODYGUARD

SECOND EPILOGUE

VANESSA BOOKE

SOPHIE

“DOES your hound always follow you everywhere?”

My friend Clarissa stares at the tall, muscular Russian, watching the two of us like a hawk. My father’s bodyguard, the Russian version of Tarzan, stands across the room at my father’s right-hand side. Aleksei towers over the men beside him, his muscular frame taking up every inch of available space. He tips his drinking glass to his mouth, never taking his eyes off me. My cheeks heat at the memory of our first night together. He stole my heart with his wild eyes and unforgettable touch. I turned in my V-card and fell in love with a Russian Tiger.

Now, we’re one second away from announcing our engagement to my father. Somehow, we’ve kept our relationship under wraps, even from my friends. It hasn’t been easy. As the daughter of New York’s governor, it’s hard to keep anything a secret, especially with the paparazzi always hanging around. I seem to be their latest obsession. I guess that happens when a hitman tries to kill you. If it wasn’t for my bodyguard turned fiancé, I wouldn’t be here.

“He’s just doing his job,” I offer as I fight back the urge to spill my secrets.

Clarissa shoots Aleksei a look of sheer annoyance as she grabs a glass of champagne. I bite my lip as Aleksei taps his finger on the rim of his drinking glass. I steal another glance at him, delighted at the sight of him still watching me. He’s impatient to speak with my father and has been since the moment we slept together. If Aleksei had his way, he would’ve told my father months ago.

I guess it’s now or never.

“I’ll be back,” I say, excusing myself from Clarissa. I feel she’s going to flip when she finds out what’s going on between Aleksei and me.

My heart swells as I walk toward my soon-to-be husband, my nerves growing as I close the space between us. He watches me fumble toward him, and a slow smile spreads across his lips. A rush of heat hits me at the sight of it. It’s a rare appearance. A warm sensation fills me as I watch him devour me with his gaze. Aleksei has no idea what he does to me. My whole body ignites. The sight of his lips curving into a self-satisfied smirk is enough to make me forget my name. Aleksei excuses himself from the conversation around him and heads my way.

He isn’t wearing his usual tight-fitted black tee and dark wash jeans tonight. Instead, his broad shoulders and muscular frame are perfectly fitted beneath the fabric of a black Armani suit. A suit I picked for him. Tonight, Aleksei isn’t dressed for the part of my bodyguard; he’s dressed as my boyfriend. I couldn’t be prouder to have someone like him.

I’m going to marry this man. That reality hits me, knocking the wind out of me.

Never in a million years did I think I’d be saying that. For so long, I thought Aleksei wasn’t interested in me. He was cold one minute and hot the next. He spent far too much of his time scaring off all my dates when all he wanted was to have me to himself. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

It takes all of my strength not to throw myself into his arms. I’m all too aware of the crowd of party-goers watching us, including my father.

“Kroshka, you look….”

“Amazing? Beautiful?” I offer. A blush spreads across my skin as his eyes wash over me.

“Divine,” he groans.

Aleksei mumbles something in Russian before throwing me a heated gaze. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“Me?” I smile, playing dumb.

“That dress,” he smiles. “I can’t wait to take it off you.”

I clench my hands at my side, digging my nails into my palm as the need to touch him overwhelms me. There’s no way this dress is staying on all night.

“We must tell your father,” he growls. “Tonight.”

Aleksei brushes one hand through his mane as he stares at me, a severe expression crossing his face. The same expression crossed his face when he told me he’d kill anyone else who tried to touch me.

“I know,” I laugh. My nerves only grow at the urgency in Aleksei’s voice. “But I’m worried my father’s going to kill you.”

As his bodyguard, Aleksei has always been in my life. Almost like a son to my father. Tonight that may all change.

“It’s a worthy way to die,” he jokes. “I would do anything for you.”

I fidget with the bangles on my wrist as I watch my father, who’s now in deep conversation with an old attorney friend. Tonight is my father’s re-election party, and the city’s most prominent officials are here, along with friends and extended family.

“Maybe we should wait until tomorrow,” I add.

“Nyet, tonight.”

I grab Aleksei’s arm to tell him something, but I’m immediately filled with regret. He flinches at the touch of my hand on his arm. Despite extensive surgery, Aleksei’s arm is still healing from the gunshot wound he sustained after risking his life for mine. He was willing to give his life for me. The least I can do is face my father.

“You’re right,” I shoot him a smile. “It’s time.”

“Good,” he says, brushing a kiss on my head.

Aleksei grabs my waist, drawing me close as he leads us toward my father. A sea of familiar faces part as the two of us find our way toward the other side of the room. My palms begin to sweat as I dig my nails into my side, dreading the conversation I’m about to have.

What’s the worst that could happen? It’s not like he’s going to kill my fiancé. There are too many witnesses here. I laugh, pushing out the anxiety that rises in my chest. As we approach my father, Aleksei glances down at me and gives me a tight squeeze of encouragement.

I wish I could say that my father is the least threatening person you’ll ever meet, but there’s a reason why he became a lawyer.

My heart pounds in my chest as we join my father and his political entourage surrounding the bar at Somerset Hotel. Aleksei’s fingers tap against my hip as the two of us wait for an opening in my father’s conversation.

“Dad?” I call, grabbing his elbow.

My father turns at the sound of my voice, a surprised expression spreading across his face. I swallow the lump in my throat as I stare up at Eric Windsor, the city’s beloved governor, and my graying father dressed in a fine suit. Just tell him, he won’t be that mad.

“Sophie, sweetheart, you’re here! Let me introduce you-“

Before he has the chance to pull me into a conversation, I stop him.

“Dad, can we talk?” I ask, placing my hand on his arm. My cheeks warm as my father’s colleagues turn and pretend they’re out of earshot.

“I have to tell you something,” I add.

“Sophie, is everything alright?”

My father acknowledges the man holding my waist beside me for the first time. The expression on his face goes blank as he watches the two of us, silently assessing us. His gaze zeroes in on Aleksei as we stand side by side. The two exchange a wordless conversation before my father looks back at me with curiosity.

“Aleksei and I need to tell you something,” I blurt. “It’s important.”

An expression of recognition crosses my father’s face as he glances between Aleksei and me. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s going on. At least not the way Aleksei is holding me by my waist. My father nods at us before excusing himself from the crowd. My nerves grow as two bodyguards appear, slowly following behind us. My father leads us away from the excitement of the party to a private balcony outside the Somerset Hotel. I glance up at my fiancé, surprised to see the relaxed expression on his face. Why isn’t he as nervous as I am?

“Alek, let’s talk outside.” My father’s two bodyguards block my view of the balcony as they lead my fiancé to the other side.

A rush of nerves hits me as I realize my father’s planning on talking to my fiancé alone.

“Sophie, I need to talk to Alek.” My father looks at me with a severe expression. Is he mad or disappointed? In a way, I thought he might be happy. He’s always treated Aleksei as family, and now he will be.

“No,” I argue. “You can say whatever you need to say in front of me.”

“Sophie, this is a private matter,” my father says.

My jaw drops. Does my father really think this is the 1800s, and he can shove me out of the conversation?

“Dad, Aleksei asked me to marry him,” I yell the words without realizing what I’ve said.

My father’s eyes widen at me for the first time.

“Engaged?” he asks, a smile tugging at his lips. “Really?”

Aleksei steps forward, nodding his head.

“Sir, I asked your daughter to marry me, but now we’d like your permission.”

“You’re getting married?” The surprise is my father’s voice doesn’t miss me.

“Yes, do you approve?” I ask. I’ve never felt the need for my father to approve of anyone, but I want him to approve of Aleksei.

“There’s something I need to tell you.” My father winces as he struggles to speak. “It may be difficult for you to understand.”

“What is it?” I ask, my anxiety growing.

My father paces the balcony, the frown on his face deepening. After several minutes of silence, he finally speaks, and the story he tells us makes my head spin.

“Years ago, a hitman came after me. You were too little to remember any of it.”

“I thought the hit had to do with your re-election?” I stare at my father like he’s grown a third head.

An expression of pain crosses my father’s face as he struggles to speak. “I made enemies in high places when I spent my days prosecuting criminals. I never thought I would grab the attention of the Russian Mafia.”

“The Russian Mafia?”

I can’t hide the shock in my voice. “What are you saying?” I ask confusion clouding my mind. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“The Russian mafia sent someone to kill me,” he says, glancing up at Aleksei

Aleksei’s grip on my hand tightens.

“Who?” I demand.

“My father,” Aleksei confirms. My fiancé expels a curse in Russian as he glances at my father and then at me. His gray gaze falls to his fingers intertwined with mine. “It all makes sense now.”

“Your father tried to kill him?”

“Yes,” Aleksei says, staring at my father.

“You knew about this?” I ask. I can’t hide the sound of betrayal from my voice as I look up at the man next to me.

“Nyet, Kroshka. I’m just as surprised as you. My father wasn’t a man of many words, but I didn’t know he was involved in the Russian Mafia.”

“He wanted to get out,” my father says.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”Aleksei asks.“He never said a word to me.”

My father turns to him, looking defeated. Our fathers were good friends, but I never imagined their friendship began as a hit.

“Your father was a good man. He saw I had a family. He chose not to kill me.”

“What did you give him in exchange?” Aleksei asks. “Money? A hitman wouldn’t just abandon his target.”

“I made him a promise, but I didn’t think anything would come of it.”

“What promise?” I ask, a feeling of dread hitting me.

“I promised you to Aleksei,” my father says, his cheeks flushing. “It was an arrangement I made with Aleksei’s father. The future felt so far away at the time that I didn’t think anything of it.”

“You promised me? To Aleksei? And you didn’t know about this?” I look up at my fiancé, confusion filling me. Did he know about this arrangement all along?

Aleksei shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Nyet. But I didn’t need my father to tell me you belonged to me, Kroshka. I’ve always known you’d be mine,” he says, cupping my face. “I’ve never had any secrets from you, my love.”

My skin flushes at the intimacy in his voice. It seems even our parents had a role in bringing us together.

“It’s why I hated when the two of you fought,” my father says with a sheepish smile. “I wanted you to get along. I never dreamt that the two of you would fall in love, but I hoped.”

I smile, my heart squeezing.

“So, you won’t be mad if we get married then?” I ask.

My father laughs, his eyes twinkling in amusement. “Technically, you have to,” he smiles. “I have a promise to keep to Aleksei’s father.”

There isn’t anyone in the world I can picture myself happier with than Aleksei. I wasn’t expecting to fall in love with my bodyguard, but somewhere along the way, I realized he’s the only man willing to protect my body and my heart.

“What do you think, Kroshka?” Aleksei says, brushing a hand through my hair. “Will you be mine?”

“First, I think you have some more Russian to teach me,” I say, grabbing his hand.“Aleksei, how do you say ‘I love you’ in Russian?”

“Ya tebya lyublyu.”

“I love you, too.”

About the Author

Vanessa Booke is a USA Today Bestselling Author of the Millionaire’s Row Series. She loves writing about strong curvy women who fall in love, alpha males with filthy mouths, and sex scenes that don’t fade to black. When she isn’t writing, you can find her listening to true crime podcasts, watching PBS, or reading Scottish Highlander Romances. She’s also a huge fan of traveling.

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PAS DE DEUX

VIVIAN WOOD

CHAPTER ONE

I ZIP around the curve of a hill in my matte black McLaren with a grin on my face. It’s sultry outside because the noon sun glares down on the car. Accordingly, I have the windows rolled down, and the warm air whips all around us.

The car climbs upward toward the sprawling villa we’ve been invited to by the King and Queen of Denmark, Stellan and Margot.

“Slow down a little bit, Speed Racer,” Kaia murmurs. “I’m six and a half months pregnant, remember?”

My lips twitch. I ease off the gas, complying with her wishes. After all, she is carrying my child.

The very thought makes my entire chest tighten. I reach out a hand and touch her bare thigh, keeping my eyes on the road.

“All right, all right,” I concede. “Dr. Lewis did say that I could take you on a plane as long as I treat you like a precious heirloom.”

Kaia smirks. “You just get us there safely. That’s the deal.”

The khaki-colored hills of Lake Como seem to encourage my need for speed. Just around the next curve, the lake appears as azure as the sky above. I can see a few villas dotting the landscape in the distance, vague white slashes with little patches of greenery.

“Damn,” I say. “It’s been a minute since I’ve been here. I almost forgot how stunning the lake is.”

Kaia leans forward, pressing her hand to the window. “You aren’t kidding. I’ve never seen anything so blue before!”

Ahead of us, the SUV full of bodyguards slows and stops at a white wrought-iron gate. I look out my window as I wait, taking in the immense stonework walls surrounding the entire compound. The terra cotta roof of the villa peeks out.

The gate swings open, and the SUV pulls in. I rev the car and race up the driveway behind them, pulling around the white circle.

Kaia bolts out of the car as soon as I put it in park. “I have to pee! Do you think they will mind if I rush in?”

“Nope.”

I climb out of the car and look at the villa, shading my eyes against the blinding white walls. The huge place can probably sleep at least twenty people at once.

Kaia hurries to the big oak door and lets herself in without ceremony. Ignoring my bodyguards, I follow her.

Stellan pops his head out the door a few seconds before I get to it. With his dark hair and deep blue eyes, he looks every bit the Disney prince as he beckons.

“Calum!” he says, his low timbre and Danish accent making my name sound exotic. “It’s a pleasure. Come in, come in. Welcome to our villa.”

He pushes open the door, letting out a waft of cold air. I give him a tiny bow as I walk past him into the foyer, a smirk riding my lips.

“Your royal highness.”

He grins and claps me on the arm. “None of that. Besides, I think we both know who made more between the two of us this year.”

I spread my hands wide. “Yes, but I did so much more work than you. I really earned the extra one point two billion dollars I raked in.”

“Yes. You knew me in my playboy days. Since I’ve become king rather than just a prince, I’ve really been resting on my laurels.” He rolls his eyes and waves me on. “Come on. I want you to meet Margot.”

I follow him down a short hallway, suddenly taking a right and stepping into a sun-dappled living room. The vast area is decorated by white chairs and couches, a smooth bare wood floor, and dotted with greenhouse plants in white planters. The plentiful skylights above make me wonder how this room stays frosty; the huge floor-to-ceiling patio doors look out over the lake, which sparkles between the hills like a sapphire.

Kaia and Margot are each seated on comfortable-looking chairs, only the tops of their blond heads showing. When I move in farther, I see that Margot is actually more pregnant even than Kaia. She wears a loose bright-yellow dress and beams brighter than the sun the second she sees her husband enter the room.

“You came back!” she says. Her American accent surprises me, as she is now the Danish queen. “Stellan, you didn’t mention that Kaia here was also going to be quite pregnant.”

“I admit that I did not think to ask.” Stellan swoops in, kisses her on the head, and grabs a can from an open cooler at Kaia’s feet. He offers it to me, smiling a little.

“Sorry, but it is merely sparkling water. I’m not drinking alcohol right now because Margot can’t, for obvious reasons.”

I walk over to Kaia, rubbing her shoulder.

“I’m okay with that. I think my days of partying during vacations are behind me. Frankly, I’m not even that sad.”

Margot smirks. “You say that now. But wait until you two plan your first weekend away without the baby.”

As fast as lightning, Stellan adds, “That’s how you ended up pregnant again.”

Flushing, Margot sticks her tongue out at Stellan. Kaia giggles, and I smile. The other couple is clearly deeply in love with each other, there’s no question about it.

“Well…” I say, squinting over my shoulder and out the windows. “I feel like we should get out on that water today, don’t you think?”

“Yes!” Margot agrees. “We were just—”

As if on cue, a faraway wail sounds. She points at the baby monitor sitting on the floor by her chair. Stellan springs to the monitor, turning it off.

“That’s my cue,” he says. “You two are right down the hallway in the master suite. You can’t miss it.”

Margot wrinkles her nose. “It used to be the place we always stayed. Alas, I made him give up the suite when we had Addy. The room is huge, but there isn’t a separate room from a crib.” She looks at her husband with a sigh. “After your brother and sister have their children, maybe we can revert it to a mother-in-law suite.”

“God, that would make my mother so happy.” Stellan shakes his head. “I’ll go get Adeline. What do you say about meeting us down at the dock in…” He checks his watch. “Thirty minutes?”

I raise my eyebrows. “The dock?”

Margot levers herself out of her chair and points at the dusty path snaking from the house toward the water.

“It’s right down there. You literally can’t miss it. And don’t worry about sunscreen or refreshments or towels. Stellan’s family loves it on the water so they have every amenity you can think of already down there. The boat is already completely stocked to the gills. Just bring yourselves and your swimsuits!”

“Come on, darling,” Stellan tells her. “Let’s go see Princess Adeline.”

She takes the elbow he offers, leaning on him as they retreat. “You really have to be careful not to let her hear you. It sounds like you’re poking fun at her.”

“Let’s talk about it when we have to and not a minute before,” he answers.

They disappear through a doorway, off to get ready. Kaia looks at me with a funny little smile playing on her lips.

“Well? Shall we?”

She stands, and for a second, I am blown away by how round her belly has gotten. I close in on her, my eyes riveted on her stomach.

Reaching out, I spread my hands wide over the expanse of her baby bump. Kaia catches my hand and brings it around to feel the baby kicking.

So fucking astounding, every time. The breath is pushed from my lungs as I stand perfectly still, feeling the strong kicks of our baby.

“Damn. Can you believe we’re going to be parents?” I ask, my voice coming out puzzled.

Kaia laughs, eyeing me with a knowing look. “Why yes, Calum. I can very much believe it.”

Gathering her in my arms, I hold her close and kiss her on the lips. “I’m still in shock, I think.”

When she whispers back, I can feel her breath on my lips.

“I can’t wait until baby Charlotte is here.”

I hug her tightly, careful not to crush the baby. Naming her after my mother means a lot to me.

I bury my face in Kaia’s neck and breathe in her scent. “Charlotte is going to get all the love and care in the whole goddamn world. I know we both had bad childhoods. But it ends with us.”

She kisses my temple and then the bridge of my nose. “She’s going to be incredibly spoiled. Not to mention that she’ll be loved by everyone who even looks her way.”

I kiss the top of her head. “I know. It’s kind of crazy how protective I feel toward our baby. Especially considering my original stance on kids.”

Kaia wriggles a little, worming her way out of my grasp. She grabs my open hand and kisses it, smiling.

“Charlotte may not have been what we talked about. But when fate has a plan for you, you had better get in line.”

I give her a mock salute. “Yes, sergeant. Just tell me where to go.”

Kaia wrinkles her nose and laughs. She kisses my lips one final time and then sighs. She pulls a face.

“Okay. It’s time to put my bikini on.”

I grin at her. “I’m coming along. You know, to help.”

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t complain as I follow her to our suite.

CHAPTER TWO

WHEN CALUM and I return from glorious Lake Como, we leave Stellan and Margot on the enormous yacht with their sweet daughter, Adeline. We traipse back up the steep hill, sandy and wet and practically glowing with the riotous laughter we have shared all day.

“I can’t believe Stellan,” Calum says, pushing back his damp, dark hair.

I arch an eyebrow, looking at him. “What do you mean?”

“He used to be such a player! Now, he’s…” He pauses, squinting.

“You’d better not say whipped.”

A smirk slides onto Calum’s lips. “I was going to say that he seems content. It’s sort of unsettling because the Stellan I’ve known was fun and interesting. But he was also angry. He resented being heir apparent. This new Stellan is just… much more relaxed than I would think he would be.”

Giving him the side-eye, I walk into the bedroom. “Is that a bad thing?”

He closes the door behind himself, tilting his head just so. “No. It’s actually really comforting to see one of my friends with an impossible situation seem to have figured a way out of it.”

“Ah.” I brush the sand off my body, my lips twitching. “Now if you beastly friend Keir can just quit messing around with my best friend—”

“Hey, hooking Keiran up with Ella was your idea, not mine.”

I raise a brow. “As if we could keep them apart. From the second he laid eyes on her at that gala, I knew something was going to happen.”

Calum snorts, walking over to me. He rubs my shoulders for a moment, slipping off the oversized white see-through dress I’m wearing as a cover-up.

“We’ll see what happens. I wouldn’t be surprised if Ella comes running back with a broken heart or a broken nose.”

My eyes had drifted close. But they snap open, and I look at him, gripping his arm.

“A broken nose?” I ask, my tone sharp.

“From Isla,” Calum clarifies. “You know how wild Keiran lets his daughter run.”

My breath leaves me in a whoosh. “Ohhh. God, you scared me. I thought you meant… something else.”

“What, that Keiran might attack her? Fuck no. Keiran might be a beast, but he would never lay a finger on a woman.”

“He’d better not.” I let my eyes close again, and Calum massages my shoulders. “If I hear any different, I’ll kill him myself.”

He snorts. “Easy, tiger. Why don’t you just relax and let me care for you? Hmm?”

I flutter my lashes open, gazing into Calum’s dreamy eyes. He looks down at my skimpy black bikini, biting his lip. He traces a fingertip up my arm, touching a few strands of my tangled, wet hair.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful, Kaia,” he murmurs. He runs those same fingertips across my clavicle and down the line of my cleavage.

I squirm. “Calum—”

He interrupts me. “I’m so hard for you right now, beauty. I know it’s been a tough pregnancy for you, but I am dying to touch you.”

I swallow heavily and blush, looking up at him. I reach out and cup his cheek, my wedding ring glittering in the sunlight. “You’re too good to be true, Calum Fordham.”

“Fuck, beauty. It still takes my damn breath away every time someone refers to you as my wife. Do you know just how lucky I got with you?”

My cheeks glow. “I think we both got lucky, honey.”

His lips twitch. He stares down at me for a few seconds, his expression unreadable. He leans down to my lips, placing the lightest kiss to the very corner of my mouth. He’s playing with me, tormenting me.

And my response? My whole body aches. My breasts lift and tighten. My clit throbs. My pussy is damp and getting wetter by the second. I slide a hand to my belly, the gesture needlessly protective.

But I do want Calum.

I will always want him.

Forever and ever.

My mouth actually waters and I turn my head, trying to catch his lips with my own. But he’s not interested in that.

Calum drops to his knees, making my eyes go wide with surprise. He makes eye contact with me as he touches my outer thighs, skimming his hands up the bare skin to my belly. Calum presses a hand against my belly, ever so gently pushing me back against the bed.

“Stay still,” he warns me. “Be a good girl.”

His words, spoken in such a deep and gravelly voice, make me suck in a breath. The anticipation builds as he slides his hands up my thighs.

He pulls the strings of my black bikini off ever so slowly, sucking his lower lip in briefly as he looks me dead in the eyes. He tosses the garment aside, and I am naked before him, my whole entire pussy aching for his touch.

Is it even possible for me to want him this goddamn much?

Calum kisses my belly button, making me giggle. But in the next second, he makes me draw in a sharp breath.

I’ve never seen anything so erotic in my damn life as this man on his knees before me, bending his head toward my lower body. He raises one of my knees and exposes my most intimate parts to his view. I keep my pussy shaved completely, so I’m bare before his eyes.

I feel like if he doesn’t touch me soon, I’m going to die. He licks his lips, sending a shiver up my spine.

God, he’s about to eat my pussy. I’m torn between closing my eyes and watching his every movement.

I rake my fingernails through his dark hair, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Calum places a single scalding-hot kiss on my inner thigh. When he nips the same soft skin, I startle, shifting my body a little.

His hands tighten on my hips. “I thought I already told you to be still.” He looks up at me, his eyes promising to do dirty things to me. “I won’t tell you again, Kaia.”

I swallow, nodding. “I’ll be good,” I manage.

He smirks, then hikes my knee over his shoulder, bending me backward against a stack of pillows. I shove them behind my body and focus on Calum, who is kissing me like he’s kissing a sacred fucking artifact. I squirm when he returns his lips to my inner thigh, kissing and gently biting his way toward my shaved pussy.

Calum splays a big hand out against my mons, gently pulling my pussy lips up and using his fingers to spread me fully. Moisture leaks from my slit. My clit throbs. Every part of me is so sensitive right now. I can feel myself beginning to tremble with need, the delicate muscles of my inner thigh shaking.

He leans in close and feathers a hot, wet kiss against the hood of my clit. I make a strangled noise, trying to tamp down my response.

He murmurs against my flesh. “I like hearing you moan for me, beauty. Make all the noise you want.”

He places another kiss just outside my pussy lips. I groan, shifting my weight. He just chuckles and puts another kiss below that, but still not close enough to my clit. I need more; more stimulation, more of his tongue on my clit. My hands run through his dark hair, pressing him closer.

He continues trailing kisses around my pussy lips, always just outside where I want his mouth to be. I groan, whining a little.

“Calum,” I whisper. “Please?”

His fingers trace the edges of my pussy, intensifying the teasing. “Please what?” he says.

He toys with the entrance to my slit, spreading around the moisture he finds there. Then he feathers a kiss over my clit once more, making my inner muscles clench with need. At the same time, he presses a single thick finger inside my pussy, pulling a hissing sound from my lips.

It feels so goddamn good.

I rock my hips against his finger, moaning when he withdraws. But before I get too upset, he pushes a second finger inside my slit. I throw my head back and moan as he stretches me out.

Then he takes things up a notch by sealing his lips over my hot, aching clit. He sucks on it and then presses his wet tongue over it, making me cry out when he begins to lick it.

“Oh god,” I whisper. “Fuck, Calum… that feels so good…”

He starts moving his fingers in and out of my slit, fingering me as he sucks on my clit. I struggle for breath as I tilt my hips against his mouth, moving it back and forth, experimenting with the sensations he’s pulling from me body. A coil tightens somewhere deep inside me; I’m aware of my innermost muscles shaking as I climb some invisible mountain, desperate to reach the peak.

Calum flexes his fingers inside me, moving his hand more forcefully. He repeatedly hits a spot inside me that makes me weak in the knees.

I make an inarticulate noise, my eyes closing. Clutching at his hair, I rake his scalp with my nails. I’m no longer fully aware of what’s going on.

My vision tunnels down to what feels good right this second. The press of his mouth against my clit. The movement of his fingers in my slit, stretching me and touching that same spot that makes me gasp out loud every time.

Calum pulls back. “Come for me, beauty. Show me how good I make you feel.”

His words drive me over the edge of the precipice. My entire body tenses, ready.

“Calum…” I cry out. “I—”

I come suddenly, shattering into a million pieces. My pussy clenches around his fingers. My head hits the wall. I spasm wildly, riding an unbelievable wave of sensation. Calum moans, still working his long fingers and his clever tongue until I pull away, too sensitive to be touched.

I feel wonderful. But I also feel like crying. Putting my hands over my belly, I rock back and forth. I keep my eyes closed as my heartbeat thunders in my ears, slowly drifting down.

Calum kisses my inner thighs and drops my knee from his shoulder. Then he stands up and pulls the duvet cover over me.

He’s making sure I don’t get cold. At that moment, I love him like I’ve never loved anything or anyone else in this entire freaking world.

I open my eyes and put my hands around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. His mouth tastes like me; my eyes fill with tears, though I’m not sure why.

“I love you,” I whisper, my voice rough.

“Ah, beauty,” he grates out. “I’ll love you until this entire world is nothing but ash and cinders. Longer than forever.”

I kiss him, eager for more of his touch. He presses himself against my body, his hardened cock poking me in the belly. For a minute, he just kisses me, exploring my mouth with his own. I exalt in his touch and his taste, feeling cherished and drunk on his kisses.

When I reach for Calum’s cock, though, he pulls away.

“Not this time.”

I look up at him, my eyes going wide. “No?”

I don’t mean to sound as startled as it comes out.

He shakes his head, giving me a quiet smile. “It was all about you this time. If you feel like it later, you can return the favor.”

Wrinkling my nose, I reach up to my neck and release the strings to my bikini top. His expression grows lustful.

“I want you right now,” I demand. “Get over here and kiss me.”

“God,” he says with a tiny groan. “I really fucking love you. You know that?”

“I really fucking love you too.”

With that, Calum leans down, presses his lips to mine, and gently pushes me backward.

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HER ORC MATE

ZOE ASHWOOD

CHAPTER ONE

I HEFT a twenty-pound bag of flour into my arms and struggle up the rickety wooden steps leading from the cellar back into the inn’s kitchen. Mr. Preem should have brought up the flour for tomorrow’s bread, but he’s been too busy chatting with the patrons in the taproom.

I can’t blame him. It’s pouring outside, so every traveler and merchant passing through our village has sought refuge here for the night. But my arms shake with exhaustion after a long day serving the customers and helping out in the kitchen, and I can’t wait for the evening to end. My little room in the attic might be small and cramped, but the chimney runs right through it, so it’ll be warm even though the roof is leaking slightly in the corner.

“Rose!” Nina, Mr. Preem’s daughter, bursts into the kitchen, her blue eyes wide. “You’re needed in the taproom.”

I drop the bag of flour on the counter and dust off the front of my gray dress. “It’ll have to wait a moment. I have to carry up another bag, or your ma won’t have enough to make the bread.”

Nina makes a cutting gesture with her hand. “I’ll do that. You find my father, and he’ll explain everything.”

She nudges me toward the door to the taproom. Her excitement—and her willingness to take on heavy labor instead of me—has me narrowing my eyes.

“What’s going on?”

Nina bites her lip, peers through a crack in the door, then turns back toward me. “There’s an orc!”

Oh. My heart speeds up, even as apprehension twists my belly. No wonder Mr. Preem sent his daughter running into the kitchen and called me to the taproom instead.

Orcs from the kingdom up north are nothing but trouble, everyone knows that. They’re brutal and inhumanly strong, they dwell underground, and steal maidens from our villages.

Or so the stories say.

“Go on,” Nina whispers, nudging me again from behind.

I straighten my shoulders and look down my nose at her. We’ve become…not friends, exactly, in the four months since I started working here, but something like it, certainly. So, it stings that she’s urging me to put myself in danger while she cowers in the safety of the well-lit kitchen. She has the grace to look ashamed and drops her gaze to the floor.

I wish I could refuse to serve this customer. I wish I had someone to protect me like Nina’s father is protecting her. But I’ve learned a long time ago that wishes are useless, so I push open the door and stride toward the bar, where Mr. Preem is pouring ale into tin mugs.

“You asked for me?” I say, stopping in front of him.

He takes a sip from one of the over-filled mugs, sets it on the counter, and wipes the froth from his mustache. Then he stares down at me, frowning. His eyes are as blue as his daughter’s, but sampling his own ale for decades has ruined his face, carving deep furrows by his mouth, bursting the little veins in his nose and cheeks. He isn’t an unkind master, but to him, I am expendable. His daughter is not.

“You will serve the orc tonight,” he mutters, keeping his voice low. “He’s asked for an ale, so you can take it to him and see if he wants food as well. If he asks for a room, tell him we’re full.”

I raise one eyebrow. “Are we really?”

The taproom is full, but I recognize at least half of the patrons—they’ll drink here until their wives come to drag them back home in a couple of hours.

Mr. Preem sneers at me. “No, but I don’t want the likes of him in my inn overnight. Gods know what he’d do to my daughter. And I don’t want him breaking any furniture, either. Look at the size of him.”

He swings his arm out to indicate the shape in the corner I’ve been trying to ignore. And yes, I’ve been more than aware of the orc this entire time. He’s sitting at the far end of the room, and though the other tables are filled so customers are sitting elbow to elbow, the humans have given him a wide berth.

Now that I allow myself to study him, I’m dissatisfied because I can’t make out enough—his hood is up, dripping rainwater on the table, and I can only get a glimpse of his green skin, his massive arms. One thing is clear, though. He’s twice the size of any man in this room, his shoulders broad and muscular, and if he stood, I bet he’d be a head taller than all of us, too.

Swallowing thickly, I pick up a large mug of ale and head for his table. One step in front of the other, trying to suppress a shiver that goes through me when he turns to look at me. His eyes are hidden beneath the hood, but I feel the weight of his stare. He was slouching before, but now he straightens his back in anticipation.

I walk past tables of patrons, and suddenly, a hand snakes out, wrapping around my wrist.

“Miss Rose,” a voice drawls. “I’ve been hoping to see your pretty face tonight.”

I jerk in the man’s grip and some of the beer sloshes from the mug to the sticky wooden floor. “Mr. Genner. I’ll be around in a moment to take your order. I just have to deliver this.”

Mr. Genner is the kind of customer every serving maid tries to avoid. Too handsy and stingy with his tips, and old enough to be my father. I’ve complained to Mr. Preem several times, as have the other women working here, but he always says that Mr. Genner and his friends are good for the business, so we should just ignore him and carry on.

“Nonsense,” Mr. Genner says and tugs me toward him, his fingers digging painfully into my arm. “I’ll take that ale, and you can sit with us.”

He pulls again, and I lose my balance, spilling half of the beer to the floor. But worse than that, I land in the man’s lap. I squeak, banging my shin on a table leg, and wince when he squeezes my hips.

“Let me go,” I demand, putting as much authority in my voice as possible. “I’ve told you before, I don’t like this.”

Mr. Genner just laughs, and his friends’ guffaws are a drunken echo to the grating sound. “Well, girl, I like you just fine, so I think I’ll keep you here awhile. I’m sure Mr. Preem won’t—aah!”

The man’s scream startles me, his mouth right at my ear. I cringe away from him and tumble to the floor, my hands sticking to the spilled beer. I roll to the side, landing on my ass, and look up.

The orc is standing over me, holding Mr. Genner by his neck. The man’s face is turning purple, and he’s wheezing, but it’s his arm that has my stomach turning over—it sticks out at an unnatural angle, surely broken.

“You do not touch a woman if she does not want it,” the orc growls.

His hood has fallen back, revealing long black hair plaited in a thick braid, bright-green skin, and pointed ears. But the worst are the tusks jutting up from his lower lip—and his fierce glare.

“But she wanted it,” Mr. Genner gasps.

That has me scrambling to my feet. “No, I didn’t! You grabbed me.”

The orc squeezes his fingers tighter, and my attacker gurgles. The taproom is silent but for the shocked gasps, until Mr. Preem scuttles forward, his face ashen.

“Stop this,” he demands in a shaking voice. “No brawling in my inn.”

The orc casts his dark gaze to him, and my boss shrinks back. Then the big male looks at me and lifts his eyebrows as if to ask for my opinion.

“Please don’t kill him,” I whisper.

I don’t want him to become a killer over vermin like Mr. Genner.

A fleeting look of displeasure crosses the orc’s face, but he suddenly unclenches his fist, letting Mr. Genner drop to the floor. The bastard curls on his side, coughing and gasping, but no one jumps to his aid. Everyone is still, rooted to their seats.

The orc turns toward me. His gaze dips from my face to my dress, then down to my worn boots, and back to my eyes. He reaches out, and I freeze, worried he might attack me, but he merely brushes a lock of hair from my face.

“Forgive me for startling you, little mate. But you needn’t be afraid of me. I am Uram, son of Mrest. It is my greatest honor to finally meet you.”

CHAPTER TWO

THE ROOM IS COMPLETELY silent in the wake of the orc’s declaration. My breath comes in short pants, and I sway slightly. The orc—Uram—frowns at me, and reaches out again to put his hand on my shoulder.

“Are you all right?” he asks.

I give him a curt nod, though I’m lying. None of this is good, that much I know.

Then Mr. Preem puffs up his chest. “I’m afraid I will have to ask you to leave.”

Uram turns to him. “Why? It wasn’t me who started the fight.”

“W-well,” Mr. Preem stutters, “you broke the man’s arm. You’re a danger to us all. So you will leave.”

There is no denying that the orc is dangerous. The strength he exhibited would be enough in itself, but he’s carrying a wicked-looking ax in his weapons belt and a hunting knife the length of my forearm. This little village has never seen anything like him, and we’re all staring. He seems to notice it and throws his cloak over the weapons to conceal them.

“I am not leaving my mate alone with you,” he growls.

Mr. Preem’s expression hardens. “Then you will both leave.”

“What?” I yelp. “No!”

“You are no longer welcome here,” Mr. Preem declares.

I stare at him, a lump forming in my throat. I knew I was disposable to him, but to have him throw me out so easily… Then I glance around at the patrons, all staring at me with fear and hostility in their eyes, and I know he’s right. I’m no longer welcome.

The orc puts his hand on the small of my back and gently guides me to the front door. Tears sting my eyes, but I keep my head high. Damn if I’ll show these people that they got to me.

The cold air hits me like a slap in the face the moment we step outside. It’s still raining, with some of the raindrops turning to slushy snowflakes. After the damp warmth of the taproom, the first breath of cool air is a relief, but I quickly realize how bleak my situation is. I’ve been thrown on the street without my belongings, let alone a reference letter I could take to another inn in the hopes of getting a job. Not that this little hamlet has more than one inn. And I won’t be able to stay here anyway, not after tonight.

“I am sorry that you lost your job,” the orc rumbles behind me.

I turn on my heels to look at him. “Why did you save me?”

He furrows his eyebrows. “Because the man attacked you.”

The simple answer surprises me. The room was filled with men, yet not one of them stood up to protect me. I don’t want to be grateful to this male—but he only tried to help.

“This is a disaster,” I whisper, burying my fingers in my hair.

We’re standing under the eaves of the inn, and already, the hem of my dress is soaked from the rain. Anywhere I try to go tonight, I’ll freeze to death, and if I try to sneak back, Mr. Preem might just throw me at Mr. Genner as a consolation prize for his broken arm.

“Do not worry.” Uram places a gentle hand on my shoulder. “I will take care of you now.”

I scowl at him. “Because I’m your mate?”

“Aye,” he says simply. “I have finally found you.”

Despite myself, my heart skips a beat at the focused way he stares at me. It’s like he’s trying to memorize every feature of my face. After a moment, he leans in, presses his nose to the side of my head, and inhales deeply. A rumbling sound echoes from his chest, a growl so primal that all the hairs on my body stand on end.

This male might have saved me, but he’s a dangerous predator, and I would be wise to remember that.

“Rose?” a soft voice calls from the darkness.

I turn, listening. “Nina?”

A slight figure appears from around the corner of the inn. “Oh gods, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over papa to throw you out—” She catches sight of Uram behind me and falls silent, her mouth open.

I understand, but I don’t have the patience tonight to deal with her. “What is it?”

She blinks and looks back at me. “Come around to the back. I collected your things. I begged papa to let you stay, but he wouldn’t.”

My heart thaws a little, so I take her hand and give her fingers a squeeze. She’s a kind girl, if spoiled, and it’s not her fault her father is an ass. She has bundled up my belongings in a blanket off my bed and tied it all with a string.

She casts a fearful look over her shoulder, then thrusts a cloth bag in my hands. “Here. I grabbed some apples and cheese for you. We’re out of bread, but there are some walnuts, too. And my tips from tonight. I-it’s not fair, what they did. To you.”

I lean in and give her a tight hug. “Thank you.”

This must be the first time she has defied her father, and I hope she continues.

She pulls back and pushes open the back door. “You better go. The men inside are angry and drunk. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

With those words, she disappears inside. Clearly, she thinks that the men might come after us—after Uram in particular. And she’s not wrong.

“Come on,” I say, holding the cloth bag under my arm. “We should go.”

I don’t know why I’m including Uram in my plans—not that I have a plan—but it feels strange to leave him here in the rain.

He gives me a grin, barely visible under his hood, and plucks my luggage from my hands, holding it up easily. “Where to?”

“We need to find somewhere to stay for the night,” I say. “I think I know a place.”

CHAPTER THREE

THROUGH THE DARKENED VILLAGE, I lead us to an abandoned barn. It’s not usual for a standing structure to remain empty in these parts, but the old woman who owned this little homestead was said to have been a witch, so the villagers avoid it.

I stumble over a clump of dried grass already covered with a film of slushy snow. Uram shoots out a hand and catches me before I sprawl on the ground.

“Careful,” he says.

“I can’t see in the dark,” I grumble. “I’m doing the best I can.”

The orc clucks his tongue. “You should have said so.”

He holds on to me, guiding me around brambles and loose stones until we arrive at the rickety barn door. Uram pushes it open and ducks inside first, bidding me to wait outside until he checks that it’s safe. I don’t obey. I know full well it’s safe because I stayed here for a couple of days when I first arrived in this village, before I found the job at the inn.

“There should be a lantern in the corner,” I murmur. “And a flint.”

Uram doesn’t say anything, but his footsteps retreat to that corner, and soon, a yellow pool of light blooms from the lantern, illuminating the small space. My new orc companion is so tall that the top of his head reaches the wooden ceiling. I take the blanket with all my worldly possessions and carry it over to the pile of straw which had served as my bed during the time I spent here.

“You know this place,” Uram says.

It’s not a question, but I answer anyway.

“I have a knack for finding abandoned places. This one was better than most I’ve stayed in.”

“You move around a lot?” he asks, his voice neutral.

“Yes,” I reply, leaving it at that.

My clothes are wet, as are my shoes. I’m starting to shiver, but lighting a fire inside this decrepit old structure would be too dangerous. I’ll just have to make do with the damp blanket and that straw heap.

“Turn around,” I demand. “I need to change my clothes.”

Uram stares at me for a long moment. I wait him out, ready for his attack. This is the moment of truth—we’re alone, and I’m defenseless against him. If he decides to force himself on me, this is when he’ll do it. I grip the little pocketknife that Nina packed along with my other things, knowing it won’t do much against a male this large. But if I allow him to come close enough, I might be able to hit something vital, like his neck.

But the orc utters a low curse, then turns his back on me. It hits me that despite my small size, the gesture is significant—as a warrior, he must be wary of putting himself in a position like this. It shows…trust.

Hurrying, I drop the knife onto the blanket and struggle out of the wet woolen dress. Then I pull my linen shift over my head and tug a fresh, dry one on, shivering in the cold. I wrap myself in that damp blanket, sit on the straw, and pull my legs to my chest.

“You can turn around now.”

Uram slowly faces me, his expression tight. “Your teeth are chattering.”

I grimace. “Not a lot I can do about that.”

He removes his large cloak and crouches by my side. “If I tell you I won’t hurt you, will you let me help you?”

In the dim light, his black eyes seem bottomless, but when I scan his features, I’m not afraid. Maybe I’m too tired for that. There’s something about this male’s careful movements that tells me he’s trying hard not to scare me, and for now, that’s enough for me.

I give him the tiniest nod, and he explodes into movement. He reaches out, picks me up, and sets me on my feet. Startled, I grasp the edges of my blanket tighter and watch as he spreads his cloak on the straw, then strips off his linen shirt. Suddenly, he’s half-naked in front of me, green skin illuminated by the orange glow of the lantern.

I gape at him, unable to help myself. I’ve seen men shirtless before, of course, but none were built like that, with thick slabs of muscle or shoulders twice the width of mine. I knew Uram was large, since he towers over me, but seeing him like this…

I close my eyes tight. “You said you wouldn’t hurt me.”

He brushes his hand over my cheek, then takes my chin in his fingers. “Look at me, Rose.”

It’s the first time he’s said my name, and it sends a shiver of awareness through me. I obey him anyway, finding myself face to face with him.

“I will not hurt you,” he repeats, his words a solemn promise. “Even though my body calls to claim my mate. I want to sink so deep inside you, but I will wait until the day you beg me for it. Until then, you are safe with me.”

I gasp, swaying on the spot. The sensations he sparks in me are not entirely foreign, but my body has never responded this strongly before. His voice, his touch, even his scent—of fresh mountain springs and green grass—appeal to me in the most intimate way.

Uram’s lips turn up at the corners, and he drops his hands to my shoulders. “Ah, there is hope for us yet, little mate. Now, please, I need your blanket.”

Reluctantly, I let go, and he guides me to lie down on top of his cloak. He rolls up his shirt, offering it to me as a pillow, then lowers himself in the spot behind me.

“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice too high.

“You are cold,” he answers simply. “I will warm you up.”

He rears up and blows out the lantern, then molds himself around my body, tucking my back firmly against his chest. His heavy arm comes to rest over my waist, and his warm exhale ruffles the hair on my nape.

I hold myself stiffly at first, still worried he might pounce on me. But with every steady heartbeat I feel at my back, I relax some more. His body is deliciously warm, and as the heat gets trapped under our shared blanket, I slowly thaw out, becoming drowsier by the second.

“Thank you,” I mumble.

He lets out a low chuckle. “I should be thanking you. To finally hold my mate… It is everything.”

He pauses for a moment, then presses a kiss to the spot where my neck meets my shoulder. I shiver, but not from the cold. That single caress is enough to stir something deep in my belly, embers of passion I never knew existed.

Uram lets out a low groan and squeezes me against his chest. The hard ridge of his cock presses into my ass, recognizable even through his leather pants and my shift. But he doesn’t rut into me, nor does he attack me in any way, so I slowly settle into his warmth, content to ignore his cock if he is, too.

I can’t help the way my nipples pebble under my shift, or the way my body goes soft and pliant at the thought of us…together. I’ve slept with men before, strangers who were content to help me chase away the loneliness for a night, but this feels different. It feels like more.

My thoughts drift, and Uram’s arms become my anchor, his words my lullaby.

“Sleep now, little mate.”

CHAPTER FOUR

I WAKE the next morning when Uram slides back under the covers with me. Rolling to my back, I blink at him sleepily, noting the features of his face in the light coming through the cracks in the walls of the barn. His tusks, which looked so dangerous last night, seem perfectly normal now, a part of his handsome face. His straight, black eyebrows furrow as I lift my hand to his cheek, testing the stubble there. But he allows me to explore him, and only the vein throbbing at the base of his throat bears witness to his growing excitement.

“Where did you go?” I whisper as I trace my fingertips over the pointed tip of his ear.

He shudders and closes his eyes. “To the village. I got you a cloak and good winter boots. Some food for the road, too.”

“For the road?” I ask, entranced by his soft, long hair.

“We are going to Black Bear Hill,” he says. “My home.”

I’ve heard of the orc kingdom, of course, and the name of his clan. But that doesn’t mean I’d be welcome there. If I can’t even find a place for myself among humans, how would I fit into an orc clan?

I drop my hand to the straw between us. “I can’t come to your home with you.”

Uram opens his eyes and frowns at me. “Of course, you can. You are my mate.”

“They won’t accept me,” I mutter. “I’m not an orc.”

He lets out a short snort of laughter. “I know that, love. But you would not be the only human there.”

“No?”

I try not to let my hopes get up. He says he wants me to come with him, but maybe he’s just sweet-talking me because he wants under my skirt.

“A lot of humans live in the orc villages,” he says. “And some even live at the Hill. Our king’s mate is a human.”

That’s unusual. But… “How do you know I’m your mate?”

Uram puts his nose to my neck and takes a deep inhale. “I knew it from the moment I caught your scent. You smell like the best apple pie and warm milk, and when you fell asleep in my arms last night, I knew I could never let you go.” He raises his head to look into my eyes. “You feel it, too, don’t you? I smell how your body wants mine.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I curl into a ball, pressing my thighs together. But my traitorous nipples harden into painful points, and when I drag in a shocked breath, Uram’s delicious scent wraps around my senses, stealing my wits.

“Will you let me show you?” Uram rumbles.

“Show me what?”

He rubs his palm over my back in sensual circles. “How good it can be between us.”

It’s his certainty that has me nodding slowly. He seems completely convinced that we are well-matched, and I can’t help but be curious.

Uram lifts himself on one elbow and kisses me. It’s a slow caress, his lips firm against mine, but at my surprised exhale, he slicks his tongue into my mouth. I respond as best I know how—I’ve never been kissed like this, but Uram seems to like what I’m doing because he groans and deepens the kiss.

I put my hands on his naked chest, marveling at his warm skin and shifting muscles. Squirming restlessly under him, I try to find relief from the pressure building inside me. Uram trails kisses over my jaw, down my neck, then undoes the small buttons at the front of my shift until he exposes my breasts.

“I’m not—oh!” I gasp as his warm lips wrap around my nipple.

He sucks, gently at first, then harder, as if he knows exactly how good it makes me feel. His hot palm dips to my waist, then lower, drawing up the hem of my shift.

“Uram,” I pant, digging my fingers into his shoulders, suddenly unsure.

He lifts his head and presses another kiss to my lips. “Let me show you.”

He’s so serious, so intent on making this good for me, that I allow myself to extend my trust just a little. At a tap of his fingers, I let my thighs fall open, making space for his hand. He rumbles in approval and takes my mouth again, and at the same time, slips his fingers right between my legs. I twitch under him, but he was right earlier—my body is responding to his in the most primal way.

Uram circles my little pearl with one finger, spreading my slickness around. “You smell so good, Rose. My cock aches, I want to be inside you so much.”

I gasp at the crude words, arching my hips for more contact.

Then he dips one thick, long finger inside my pussy, hooking it up to hit a spot that has me crying out in pleasure.

“You will take all of me,” he rasps against my ear. “And I will fill you up so well. You’ll take my knot, and we’ll fuck for hours, until you’re spent and limp in my arms.”

His words send me over the edge, into a climax so brilliant that I claw at his shoulders, needing to hold on to something solid so I don’t float off into space. Uram is with me through it all, whispering filthy promises in my ear, then tucks me into his chest, where the hammering of his heart lets me know how much this affected him, too.

I want to make him feel good, too—and see that cock of his, including his knot, which is something I’d only ever heard stories about. But before I can so much as untie the laces of his pants, he jumps up and tugs the blanket away from me.

“We have a long day ahead of us,” he says, grinning down at me. “We’d better get going.”

CHAPTER FIVE

URAM PROMISED me a long day of walking that first morning, but it turns out his home is more than a week away, since we’re on foot and trudging through the first snow of the winter. It’s a good thing that he bought me new boots and a cloak in the village because the weather has turned harsh, and I would have frozen my toes off in my old footwear.

But despite the grueling pace Uram sets as we walk, I’ve come to enjoy the rhythm of our days. My orc mate leads us unerringly north, sometimes on footpaths used by woodsmen and travelers, other times cutting through thick forest. Every night, he finds us a shelter to stay at—a woodcutters’ hut, a small, dry cave, or just a nice divot in the ground where we can string up my blanket as a tent, light a fire to keep us warm, and spend the night tangled up in each other.

Uram shows me how well we work together by taking care of my sore, tired body every night. He rubs my aching feet and kneads the muscles of my back, then makes me come until I’m a panting, shaking mess. He allows me to explore him as well—above the waistline of his pants.

“If you take out my cock,” he growls at me, his features tight with passion, “I’ll be inside you in seconds. I won’t be able to hold back, and I don’t want to knot you where we might freeze our toes off.”

His logic makes sense, but that doesn’t mean I’m not increasingly hungry for what he promised me. I steal kisses from him whenever I can, learning that orcs love touch and caresses, so I make sure to give him back as much affection as he’ll let me.

On our fifth day of travel, Uram suddenly stops on the path, holding up his hand. I halt beside him, following his gaze to a clump of bushes.

“What is it?” I ask quietly.

He frowns, his head cocked to the side. “I’m not—”

An arrow whistles through the air, hitting him in the arm. Uram dives at me, knocking me to the wet ground, then pushes me behind a tall fir tree with a thick trunk.

“Oh, gods.” I raise shaking hands to where the shaft of the arrow sticks from Uram’s cloak. “You’ve been hit!”

He grits his teeth, snaps the shaft off with one savage yank, then undoes his cloak and lets it fall to the ground. From his weapons belt, he takes the big hunting knife and shoves it into my hands. “Run.”

I gape at him. “What?”

“There’s more than one attacker,” he forces out through gritted teeth. “They probably want to kill me and steal you, but I could be wrong, and that’s not a chance I’m prepared to take. So run, Rose. Don’t look back.”

He shoves me in the direction of a thicket of dead brambles, deeper into the dark forest.

“I can’t leave you,” I protest, even as I take a step back.

“You will,” he growls. “I need to protect my mate, and I can’t do that while worrying you might get caught in the crossfire. Run and hide, now!”

With that order, he turns on his heels and melts into the undergrowth. For a moment, I think of following, but he’s a warrior and he knows best in this case. So, I duck between the trees and keep running until all I can hear is my own panting breath. I stop, looking for a good place to hide.

There’s an old maple tree with branches not too far off the ground, so I tuck Uram’s knife in my sleeve and scramble up, scraping my skin on the rough bark. Then I climb higher, trying to get a sense of what’s happening with Uram and the attackers, but the trees are too thick, the firs with their bushy branches obscuring my view.

My stomach roils at the thought of Uram getting hurt. If it’s thieves or brigands who attacked us, I hope he just gives them what they want so no one gets hurt. But I have a sinking feeling that I know the attackers all too well.

A movement in the corner of my eye catches my attention. It’s a man shambling through the forest, right on my trail. I’d forgotten to obscure my footsteps—not that it would have been easy to do with the ground wet and snowy. I might as well have written a signpost pointing directly at my location.

Still, I wrap my gray cloak more tightly around me and press my back to the trunk, hoping to stay invisible.

But my disguise doesn’t last long.

“Hello, Miss Rose,” Mr. Genner drawls from under the tree. “Why don’t you come down here and we can have ourselves a little chat?”

I grit my teeth and remain silent. This man doesn’t deserve my reply. His arm is in a sling, and I feel a vicious sense of satisfaction knowing that it was Uram who broke it. He clutches a long knife in his good hand and stares balefully at me.

He and his friends must have followed us on horseback, or they wouldn’t have been able to catch us so quickly. A man with a stung pride is always dangerous, but here, in the middle of the forest, our situation is even more dire.

“You can come down now,” he says, his voice losing the false sugared tone, “or we can wait for one of my boys to follow, and they’ll shoot you off this tree.”

Fear spreads through my veins at the thought of the archer who shot Uram. My orc has an ax, and I’m sure he’s a skilled warrior, but he can only fight the attackers at close range. If the archer stays well back, he could shoot him full of arrows and never suffer a scratch himself.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I mutter, the words meant for me, not the bastard on the forest floor. “I’d rather die than give myself over to you.”

I snap a dead branch off the nearest tree limb and chuck it down at Mr. Genner. It misses, but the man cusses anyway and steps out of range. There’s not much he can do but wait—either for one of his companions to join him or for me to lose my balance on the icy branches and tumble to the ground.

Then I sense more movement in the forest. I scan the trees, squinting. It takes me a moment to notice Uram slinking from tree to tree, his ax at the ready. Whatever happened with the other attackers, he’s here, stalking Mr. Genner.

But he’s moving too slowly, his left arm, the one with the arrow wound, tucked awkwardly against his side. And now that he’s close, I can see blood covering his green skin, a lot of it. Maybe not all of it is his, but Uram has been hurt, and Mr. Genner is still fresh, despite his injury. His knife may not be a match for Uram’s ax in a normal fight but if Uram is too injured to swing his ax well…

I snap off another branch and throw it at Mr. Genner. “You asshole! I’m never coming with you. I’d rather die!”

The man turns purple in the face and starts spewing obscenities at me while I pelt him with branches. If I keep his attention on me, Uram might get close enough to incapacitate him without injuring himself even more.

“You disgust me,” I scream. “I’ve had to put up with your filthy hands for months.”

He spits on the floor, livid with anger. “You want to talk about disgust? You’re nothing but an orc whore, and I wouldn’t touch you if—”

A twig snaps behind him as Uram leaps forward. Mr. Genner turns around, his eyes blown wide with shock, and I think for a moment that Uram will simply smack him to the ground and shut him up. But the big battle ax cuts through the air on a powerful swing, and Mr. Genner’s head rolls to the side, severed completely.

Uram collides with the headless body, knocking it to the ground as he sprawls on top of it. The head lands several feet away, a crimson stain spreading over the trampled snow.

There’s so much blood.

Bile rises in my throat, and I swallow convulsively, my grip on the tree trunk turning painful. I can’t seem to let it go—I’m frozen by the horror.

But Uram isn’t moving. I wait for him to get up, to look up at me and grin, blood-smeared but victorious. Only he doesn’t—his back moves with shallow breaths, yes, but his grip slackens on his ax handle, and he doesn’t move away from the corpse underneath him.

“No,” I whisper, forcing myself to unpeel my fingers from the bark. “No, no, no.”

I clamber from the tree, ignoring my scrapes and bruises, and land awkwardly on my left leg. I rush to Uram’s side and press my shaking fingers to his neck.

When I sense the pulse of his heartbeat, I sob in relief. But no matter how much I shake his shoulders or pat his cheeks, my big warrior doesn’t wake.

“All right,” I mutter, wiping away my tears with my sleeve. “What would Uram do?”

He’s proven himself to be a capable, practical male, so I try to put myself in his shoes. I push and heave with all my might and manage to roll him to his back, assessing his injuries. He’s been shot with four arrows—in his back, hip, and shoulder in addition to the one in his arm. He must have snapped the shafts on his own and pulled out the one in his back, but the other three arrowheads are still lodged in his flesh. I debate cutting them out, but I have nothing here to stitch his wounds, so removing the arrowheads would only make him bleed out faster.

None of the wounds are fatal, though, and neither are they bleeding so freely as to incapacitate a warrior of his size. I can’t figure out what has him knocked out—until I notice the widening bloodstain underneath his left thigh.

Finding the narrow gash in the leg of his dark leather pants, I cut it wider with Uram’s knife. My stomach turns at the sight. A deep stab wound oozes blood, trickling over Uram’s green skin. How he ran with the injury, I have no idea, but this is bad.

I shiver violently, both from the cold and the fear. We’re still so far from the Hill, and I have no idea where exactly we’re going. There’s also no way I could make my way back to the human village to get help, even if I followed our tracks. It took us five days to get here, and besides, the villagers would hardly help the orc who killed a whole group of their own people.

The thought of the other villagers has me straightening my back. I peer into the trees, wondering if we’re about to get attacked by Mr. Genner’s friends. But the forest is quiet, with only an occasional bird crying out in the distance. I have to believe that Uram incapacitated the rest of this ambush before he came running after Mr. Genner and me.

The thought of so much killing should repulse me, but I am only proud. Uram saved me again, but this time, he might pay with his life.

CHAPTER SIX

“WHY DO you have to be so heavy?” I pant, dragging Uram along the forest floor.

I’ve fashioned a litter from two thin saplings I cut down with Uram’s ax and my old blanket. It took me a good long while to drag his unresponsive body onto the litter after I tied a long strip of cloth torn off my skirt around his wounded thigh. I tucked my cloak over him to keep him warm, left all our luggage where it lay scattered in the forest, then took on the arduous task of lugging him to his home.

Which is…somewhere in this forest.

My throat closes with panic, but I stamp down the rising emotion and keep my gaze forward, determined to save him or die trying. All the time we walked, he kept us on a northward path, so if I keep going that way, I’ll eventually bump into the orc settlement.

Or I’ll miss it by miles and get hopelessly lost in the great forest of Bellhaven.

I stumble on a hidden tree stump and curse, then correct my course so Uram’s head doesn’t collide with the hard wood. I lean down and tuck a corner of my cloak back into place, then brush my hand over Uram’s brow. He’s definitely not cold—in fact, he might be burning up, and that worries me even more. I have no idea how fast orcs heal or get an infection, but I need to get him to a healer as soon as possible.

“Hold on,” I whisper, my voice tight. “For me, all right? You promised me things, and I intend to hold you to that.”

Then I take up the litter again, even though my palms are scraped raw from the jagged bark, and take another step north. And another. It’s slow going, and I have no idea how far I have left to go, but I won’t stop until I find him help.

It’s not a sound that has my hackles rising, but the absence of it. I don’t notice the complete silence at first, but birds stop squawking, and I feel a presence behind me, as if someone is watching me.

I stop and gently lay the heavy litter handles on the ground, my shoulders screaming in protest. Then I reach for Uram’s hunting knife, slipping it out of its sheath.

“Who’s there?” I call.

I don’t try to hide our position—whoever or whatever is following us already knows where we are. If it’s a hungry beast hoping for an easy meal, I’ll try to scare it away by screaming. If it’s a human, though, I’ll fight them until my last breath. I’m not leaving Uram again.

A figure melts from the deepening shadows, a tall, cloaked person with quiet steps. The crunch of frozen leaves behind me has me spinning around—another stalker has shown himself, prowling closer to us.

“Go away,” I yelp, holding up my knife. “I’m warning you.”

My hand shakes, but I grip the handle firmly, prepared to stick it in someone’s ribs if they advance any more.

Then another person steps from the shadows, his hood thrown back. He’s taller than me by a head at least, and his skin is a rich green, so like Uram’s.

“Is that Uram?” he demands.

I lower the knife slightly. “Y-you know him?”

The male lifts his arms to show he’s unarmed. “I’m Neekar of Black Bear Clan. These are Ozork and Korr, and we are Uram’s friends. What happened?”

His expression is so earnest, so worried, I somehow know he’s telling the truth. On a sob, I drop the knife and fall to my knees beside Uram. I throw back the cloak and show them his wounds.

“We were attacked by some humans from my village,” I manage to choke out. “He was stabbed and shot with arrows. I didn’t know what else to do, so I tried to get him to his home, but he’s—he’s heavy, and I just—”

My voice breaks. I hide my face in my stinging hands and cry, relief clashing with worry and fear. Uram still hasn’t woken up, but at least I’m not alone anymore.

“You did good, Uram’s mate,” one of the other males says. “We found the site of your fight on our patrol and followed you here. Uram fought well. He killed four men. But you dragged him for more than a mile. You are a strong woman.”

That’s when I notice he’s carrying Uram’s ax, and the one called Neekar has Uram’s pack on his shoulders.

“We left the humans’ bodies for the scavengers,” the third male says, his expression grim. “They entered our territory without permission, and they paid the price.”

“How far are we from the Hill?” I ask.

Neekar grimaces. “You wouldn’t have been able to make the journey on your own. But it is a good thing we found you.”

I watch, stunned, as Ozork and Korr tuck my cloak around Uram, take both sides of the litter and lift it, their muscles straining. Neekar helps me to my feet, and when he sees how badly I’m shaking, he picks me up and carries me, running easily beside his friends.

It still takes us most of the night to reach the Hill. I ache all over, exhaustion making it hard to stay awake. We enter the underground palace through a wide oakwood door guarded by scowling orc guards, and a small crowd surrounds us, voices crying out in worry and outrage. Uram is taken straight to the healer, and I struggle in Neekar’s arms, trying to follow.

“Hey, now,” Neekar says as I accidentally elbow him in the chest. “We will take good care of your mate. You need to rest so you can be there when he wakes up.”

He hands me over to the care of a beautiful orc woman who introduces herself to me as Mara, and she takes me deeper into the underground corridors of the Hill. I’m too tired to do anything but follow. She brings me to a neat bedroom with no windows, sits me on the bed, and cleans my hands with warm water, then smears an herbal salve over them. She helps me undress and detangles my hair with slow strokes of a wooden comb, clucking softly when I start to cry again.

Then she helps me lie down, and I sink into a deep sleep before I can even ask about Uram’s health. The last thing I remember is Mara’s hand brushing back my hair and her voice promising me I am safe.

CHAPTER SEVEN

A RATTLE at the door wakes me, and I scramble up in bed, the room spinning slightly around me.

“I want to see my mate,” a voice booms.

More rattling, then the door flies open, and Uram stands there, his skin ashen-green. He’s half-naked, wearing only some sort of loincloth that does little to disguise his powerful body. His wounds are covered, though, with clean white bandages wrapped around his limbs.

“If you tear your stitches, I’m not sewing you back together,” barks a male voice. An older human man pokes his head into the room and scowls at me. “He’s your responsibility now, girl. I wash my hands of him.”

With that, he stomps down the corridor, disappearing from view.

I scoot to the edge of the bed. “What’s going on?”

One of the males who found us in the forest, Ozork, steps up beside Uram. “He was making a fuss in the infirmary, so we brought him here.”

“We?” I repeat, peering past them into the hall.

Neekar appears and puts his shoulder under Uram’s arm. “He’s heavy. Took two of us to lug his corpse over here.”

Uram glowers at them both. “Get me to the bed.”

I jump up to make room for him. “Are you supposed to be moving around? Why didn’t you stay there?”

Uram turns his baleful glare on me. “Because I wanted to spend the night in my own bed with my mate by my side.”

“Oh.” I look around the room for the first time. It’s not too large, but the bed is very comfortable, there’s a privy niche hidden by a wall tapestry, and a small table with two chairs. I haven’t had a chance to explore, but I like how it looks, cozy with lots of fur rugs and pillows on the bed.

Uram grunts as Neekar and Ozork help him sit next to me. “Thank you, friends.”

They both give him slaps on the back, smile at me, and leave, closing the door behind them.

“So, this is your room?” I ask, peering up at Uram.

He dips his chin in a nod. “Do you like it?”

“Yes,” I say truthfully.

“You can change anything you want,” he says, looking down at his lap. “I know it’s not the largest. We can also ask the king for another set of rooms if you’d like. I didn’t know I would be returning with a mate, so I didn’t prepare—”

I lean into him and press a kiss to his lips, cutting short his rambling words. He lifts his hand to my chin and returns the kiss, his tongue stroking mine.

“I love this room,” I say. “I think we’ll be very happy here.”

Uram’s lips turn up at the corners, his tusks gleaming in the lantern light. “I know we will. But I want to give my mate all the comfort. And I wanted to thank you for saving me. Without you, I would have died in the forest. So, if you need anything, you let me know.”

“I will,” I promise. “But for now, I would just like to rest.”

I don’t tell him I’m feeling much better already. He needs the rest more than I do, but I’m more than content to curl up next to him on the bed.

He spends the next two days mostly sleeping, so I venture out to get us food from the great hall, which Mara points out to me. I also take a bath at the amazing communal hot pools, adding another reason for me to stay here. Mara assures me that help is always needed in the Hill and promises to find me a job when I’m better.

I return to Uram’s bedroom to find my mate pacing around the room, scratching at the bandage on his arm. His skin has regained its healthy green color, and I know his various cuts and bruises have mostly healed, but still—he should be resting.

“What are you doing out of bed?” I ask, hurrying to him.

He catches me and wraps his arms around me, presses his face to my hair, and inhales deeply. “I went searching for you, but our healer caught me and told me he would sedate me if he caught me in the corridors again today.” He waves his hand toward the table, indicating a small jar of herbs. “Then I was waylaid by our herbalist, who was on her way here with some tea for you. You can drink it to prevent pregnancy. If you want.”

We haven’t talked about babies yet, and I know I’ll have the tea soon because we need time to plan a family.

“I’ll have to thank her when I see her.” I press a kiss to the center of his naked chest. “I’m here now.”

“I missed you,” he admits.

My heart stutters happily as I guide him back to bed. “I can’t be with you all the time, even if I want to.”

He catches my hand and rubs my healing skin gently. “I cannot help it. It’s the mate bond. I need you so much.” He looks up, his expression pained. “It will be better once I’ve had you.”

I drop my gaze to his lap, noting the thick ridge of his erection tenting the sheet wrapped around his waist. “How much do your wounds still hurt?”

Uram lies on his back and gives me a devastating grin. “Not much. And I know what would make me feel better.”

Returning his smile, I kneel on the bed beside him. “Are you sure? We can wait until you’re healed.”

He grabs my hips and drags me closer. “Are you joking? I have been waiting for this moment since I first laid my eyes on you.”

I brace my hands on his naked chest. “But you said you smelled me. That’s how you knew I was your mate.”

“Ah,” he says, “but I knew you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen even before I recognized what you were to me.”

I lean forward and kiss him, even as my heart threatens to burst from happiness. “I love you,” I whisper against his lips.

“And I love you, little mate.” He reaches behind me and tugs at the laces of my dress. “Now help me get this off you so I can finally see all of you.”

Laughing, I pull my dress over my head, followed by my shift. Then I lift my hips, pull away the sheet covering Uram’s lap—and stare.

Because his cock is huge. I expected it to be big, given how tall and strong Uram is, but this is…unexpected.

“You can touch it,” Uram says.

I glance up at him to find him staring at me, his brows furrowed, and suddenly, I understand. He’s worried I don’t like it. But that’s not the issue at all—I’m only worried it won’t fit.

I wrap my fingers around the thick shaft and give it a firm squeeze. Uram groans, but he doesn’t take his gaze off me, nor does he stop me. So, I run my palm over the broad cockhead, dipping my finger in the notch at the top, where he’s already leaking white, creamy precum. I taste it, shivering at the sweetness that bursts over my tongue. Then I focus my attention on the bottom, where a bulging knot swells, ready for me.

“Will we…?” I trail off, unsure of how to ask what I want to know.

Uram takes my chin and lifts it so I’m forced to look at him. “I’ve never knotted a woman before. Only a mate can take a male’s knot, so we’ll do this together. All right?”

I nod, a savage pleasure coursing through me at the thought of being the first to take all of him.

“I need you now,” Uram rumbles. He grabs my hips and positions me over his cock. “Tell me if you need me to stop.”

I shake my head, eager to try this. But he doesn’t let me straddle him completely. Instead, he has me remain on raised knees while he reaches between my legs and dips his fingers into my pussy. I brace my hands on his chest, digging my fingernails into his warm skin, and ride out my first climax as he stretches me first with two, then with three blunt fingers.

Only then does he allow me to position his cock underneath me and sink slowly onto it.

The stretch is painful at first, and it takes me several long minutes to even take the head of his cock. Just when I’m sure that this won’t work after all and that the gods made a mistake when they matched us, it slips into my pussy, filling me up until I moan.

Uram puts his fingers on my slick pearl and rolls it, whetting the flames inside me. Sweat breaks out on his brow, and he clenches his jaw, holding himself back.

“I’m sorry,” I gasp as I sink another inch, certain that this is it, that this is as much as I can take. “You’re just so big!”

“Never apologize, Rose,” he growls. “To feel your pussy squeezing my cock so tightly… I never thought it would feel this good.”

He cups my breasts with both hands and thumbs my nipples, sending a rush of pleasure through me. I slide lower, crying out in shock. His knot presses at my pussy, and when I lean forward, I discover I can rub my pearl over it, heightening my sensations. Carefully, I push myself up, nearly slipping off Uram’s cock, then let my weight impale me back in one smooth, sensual glide.

Uram throws his head back on a groan, the tendons of his neck standing out. “Rose!”

“I feel you so deep inside me.” I drag in a quick inhale through my nose, getting another hit of his scent. “I need more, Uram, but I don’t know how.”

My mate growls deep in his chest, and in another second, I find myself on my back with him rearing over me. He spreads my knees with his hands, making room for himself between my thighs.

“You need my knot, don’t you, little mate?” he rumbles in my ear. “You need it, and you’ll take it, and I’ll fill you up with my cum.”

He thrusts into me, and I cry out at the new angle. His knot hits me just right, sending the first shimmer of a climax through my veins.

“Do that again,” I beg, “just like that.”

Uram leans over me and presses a heated kiss to my lips, then rolls his hips in a punishing, brutal rhythm. I reach around his hips and grab his ass with both hands, deepening each of his thrusts, until my pleasure shatters inside me. I come with a hoarse cry, my inner muscles tightening around Uram’s thick cock.

He shouts and thrusts faster, and my body loosens, accepting his fully. His thick knot slips inside me, bringing the sensation of fullness to another level. Gasping, I come again from the pressure on that most sensitive spot inside me.

Uram roars, bending his body over me as his climax hits. He cradles me in his arms, rocking his hips against mine. I feel his release, hot and slick, but his knot keeps us locked together, prolonging our pleasure.

He finally stills, his face inches from mine. Our breaths mingle while we stare at each other, eyes wide.

“This was…” I say, then swallow, unable to find the words.

“Incredible,” he says.

“When can we do it again?” I bring my arms to his shoulders and squeeze his thick muscles. “Because I don’t think once is enough, not when it feels this good.”

Uram smirks. “We’re not leaving this bed for days.”

He rocks his hips forward, and I realize he’s still hard. Even though he can’t thrust properly because we’re locked together by his knot, that doesn’t mean the sensations are any less intense. We cling together as we crest another wave, then collapse on our sides, kissing and stroking each other.

“This is how it’s going to be?” I ask quietly.

“Aye,” He brushes his fingertips over my cheek. “And it’ll only get better. I’ll learn everything you like and make sure you never leave this bed unsatisfied.”

“I can live with that.” I offer him a soft smile. “And we’ll stay together?”

Uram leans in and presses a kiss to my lips. “Always.”

The End

About the Author

Zoe Ashwood writes sexy paranormal romance for women who believe in magic and true love. She’s convinced all books would be better with some dragons and kissing, and has made it her life’s mission to write as many such stories as possible. She’s happily married to her best friend and has two sons and a very fluffy dog.

You can find more about her books on her website.

And if you’d like to read more orc romance, Her Orc King is available now.

FOUR FEARLESS NIGHTS

ZOE YORK

Author note: “Four Fearless Nights” is a companion story to the novel, Fearless at Heart. It can be read on its own as a complete short story, tracing four nights over twenty-five years where Seth and January are there for each other in comfort, friendship, passion, and joy. All scenes are brand-new and exclusive to Dissent.

Access to a safe, legal abortion profoundly changed the course of my own adult life. It allowed me to choose if and when to become a mother. Every person deserves that same access to reproductive choice. This story is fictional, but touches on the same issues, so I’m happy to provide content notes for readers who appreciate a heads-up about pregnancy details. Chapter one includes emotional details around an abortion both characters want. Chapter three focuses on the choice to get pregnant. Chapter four includes the birth of a child.

CHAPTER ONE

One fearless night, twenty years ago

SETH KINCAID’S leg wouldn’t stop bouncing. He glanced at his watch again. Four minutes had passed since the last time he checked. A quick—desperate?—look at the clock on the wall confirmed that the seconds were crawling by at a glacial pace.

They said she’d be in there for at least ninety minutes. The procedure itself wouldn’t take long, but there were drugs she had to take first, and some recovery after.

All the details swam in his head.

Holding on to details wasn’t his strong suit. That’s where January excelled. Seth was good with his hands. Exceptional visual spatial reasoning. Gifted hand-to-eye coordination.

The recruiter had been delighted. It had gotten him an offer from the Air Force.

It was going to tear him away from January.

Fuck.

He jammed the heel of his hand down on his knee, forcing his leg to be still. He took a deep breath, then let it out. Slow like molasses.

He honestly hadn’t expected today to be this stressful. When January told him she was pregnant, his heart had stopped. Of course it had. Fuck. He’d already signed the recruiting papers. She had a full ride scholarship to U of T.

But then they’d figured out a plan. Clung to each other and found out where they could go. Which doctor she could see about a termination and trust it wouldn’t get back to her dad. Which hospital they’d have to drive to.

He borrowed a truck for the overnight trip to Hamilton. Three hours away from Pine Harbour.

Her father thought she was sleeping at a friend’s place.

Seth had rented them a hotel room.

He was January’s friend.

It would have been better for her if that was all he’d ever been. Maybe would have been better for them both if he hadn’t ever crawled his eager hands up beneath her sweatshirt and discovered just how good her tits felt after she praised him for making it through a worksheet of math problems.

Fuck.

Two horny teenagers were dangerous. Add in the grief of him losing both of his parents and her losing her mom, all within eighteen months of each other, and they’d done some stupid shit in the name of surviving.

And now, he waited.

THE NURSE HAD the kindest eyes. The doctor made a joke, his voice warm and reassuring.

This was at least the fourth abortion they’d perform today, January Howe thought to herself. There had been two patients in recovery when she arrived—she’d seen their feet on the ends of recliners, even though they were surrounded by privacy curtains—and a young girl had gone in just before her.

That would stick with her for a long time. She wasn’t the youngest person making this choice today.

“You’re doing great,” the nurse murmured.

She wasn’t doing anything.

She’d done the hard thing. She’d gotten herself here. Now she was floating.

Waiting for it to be done.

THE RELIEF SETH felt when January walked out of the nondescript, unmarked door was palpable. He surged to his feet, feeling every inch of his gangly, six-foot-two height. He wrapped his arms around her gently and kissed the top of her head.

“You don’t need a wheelchair or anything?”

She shook her head wordlessly.

JANUARY DIDN’T THINK she wanted to sleep, but after curling up on the bed in the hotel room—because the painkillers were starting to wear off and everything ached—she slipped into the darkest of dreams.

When she woke with a start, Seth was beside her on the bed, propped up on extra pillows. He gripped a tattered Star Wars novel in his hands, but for as long as she stared at him, he didn’t turn the page.

Over his shoulder, the dim blue of a twilight sky looked surreal through a gap in the heavy curtains. Hours had passed.

“Hey,” she finally said, her voice cracking.

He started, dropping the book. “Hi.” He scooted down and rolled onto his side, looking at her carefully. “What do you need?”

She shrugged.

He stroked a loose strand of hair off her cheek, hooking it behind her ear. “Are you hungry?”

She started to shake her head. Then she stopped. “Maybe.”

“Want to order a pizza? Or I could go through a drive-thru for whatever you want.”

“I’m thirsty.”

He jumped out of bed.

She needed him to slow down, too, but that felt too big to explain right now.

He filled a glass and brought it to her. She pushed up to sit, then carefully sipped the water twice before downing it in a few big glugs. “What time is it?”

“Just after eight.” He hesitated. “How do you feel?”

There was no way to answer that. “I’ll feel better tomorrow.”

He brushed another strand of hair from her cheek. She probably looked like a complete mess. “Then let me distract you until then. They have a few movie channels.”

She let him press the changer into her hand. She flipped through a few different things before landing on the latest James Bond movie. “This okay?”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. It wasn’t her usual fare. “Yeah, if you want to watch it.”

There was something nice—safe—in the fantastical action sequences. The last thing she wanted right now was anything romantic or realistic. “Yeah, it’s good.”

Halfway through the movie, Seth quietly ordered two pizzas—Hawaiian for her, Deluxe for himself—then curled her back into his side. She lost herself in the warmth of his chest, the steady beat of his heart, and the wild ride of the movie. As Pierce Brosnan opened a hatch and climbed down a metal ladder, a knock sounded at the door.

“Pizza delivery.”

Seth rolled her off him and grabbed his wallet. She tugged her knees to her chest, wondering what the delivery guy might think two teenage kids were getting up to in a hotel room.

Would anyone ever know that her life had changed so much in such a short period of time?

Would she move on in a few weeks, forget Seth and this terrifying graze against a life stuck in Pine Harbour that neither of them wanted?

In three months, she’d start freshman orientation at U of T. Seth would be two months into his military career. Finished basic training and diving into his own studies hours away from her.

Not for the first time, she wondered if they would—if they could—keep in touch.

It was the only thing they didn’t talk about.

They talked around it.

A relationship was off the table. The next fourteen years of Seth’s life were locked up tight. She’d known that for months now. Had known it when they—

She closed her eyes as he turned around, pizzas in hand.

They had a few weeks left. A few more weeks of school, then graduation. Beyond that…

Tonight wasn’t the night to think about the future. Tonight was all about counting down the minutes until tomorrow, when she would feel better. When she would feel a little less turned inside out, and the process of putting her new life together would begin.

College in the fall.

A career after that.

Seth was no part of that future. But he was every part of her here and now.

“Thank you,” she said as he set the pizza boxes on the foot of the bed and handed her a can of iced tea. Her favourite.

“Of course,” he whispered.

The movie was coming to the end now, but all she could hear were those two words. Of course.

As hard as it would be to say goodbye to Seth, to let him go, she would always have this part of him. This utterly good, kind, secret part of him, because she knew that it wouldn’t be of course for a lot of people. That even at eighteen, he was one of a kind. Special.

It was why she had to let him go when he left for basic training. She wouldn’t be a factor that held him back from reaching his enormous potential.

“I need a shower.” She set the iced tea on the bedside table. “Do you mind?”

“No. Not at all. The pizza will be too hot to eat anyway.” He followed her halfway to the bathroom, then stopped.

She grabbed him, her arms shaking, and she squeezed him as tight as she could, given her wobbly state. “I’m okay,” she whispered.

It was as close to the truth as she could verbalize.

SETH RESISTED CHECKING on her in the shower, although he did keep a keen ear out for anything that might sound like a problem—a fall, or a cry.

It was hard to walk the fine line between friendship and being the boyfriend who was going to break up with her in a few short weeks.

When he thought about that, his whole world tipped sideways.

If there were any way for them to stay together and not be utterly miserable for the next four years, he’d grab on to that plan with two hands. But his summers were spoken for with training, and their school years would be all-consuming.

And if he hadn’t felt sure about that plan before the pregnancy, he was absolutely certain now.

January deserved to have the best university experience possible. She didn’t need a boyfriend four hours away who could never visit her, whom she could never come and stay with.

And if they did survive that long-distance period, then what? He’d be posted OUTCAN more often than not. Was she going to follow him around the world as an Air Force wife?

She had plans, and they didn’t include him. Which was for the best, because he was nothing but trouble for her.

When the shower turned off, he was surprised to realize the movie was over. Clue had started playing next, and—

“Seth?” She cracked the bathroom door a little wider. “Can you grab my bag? Or just…”

“What do you need?”

“Uh…my underwear. And a…pad.”

“Sure.” His hands shook as he dug into her backpack. A little plastic bundle, and a soft bit of cotton.

He handed them to her at the door, and she gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

“Have you ever seen Clue? Tim Curry?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“It just started. It’s funny.”

“Okay.” She closed the door, then emerged a few minutes later, wearing the same t-shirt and sweatpants she’d come home from the hospital in. Her hair was damp, and she’d twisted it back into a loose ponytail.

He sat up against the headboard and spread his legs. “Come here.”

“What about the pizza?”

He leaned over, hauled the boxes up beside him, and patted the space between his legs. “You can still reach it.”

She gave him a tired smile, and he tugged her to sit in front of him.

“Let me hold you tonight,” he whispered. “It’s the least I can do.”

They slowly picked at the pizza and watched movies. After Clue, it was Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, then Fifth Element.

January fell asleep against him halfway through Bueller, then woke with a start halfway through Fifth Element, her whole body shaking.

“It’s okay,” he murmured into her hair. “Just a dream.”

“What time is it?”

He glanced at the clock. “It’s tomorrow.”

She relaxed into his chest and closed her eyes. “Good.”

CHAPTER TWO

Twenty years later, a second fearless night

THREE MONTHS AGO, Seth would have thought it impossible, but here he was, quickly running through his post-flight checklist so he could tie up his float plane for the night and go spend some time with January and her niece and nephew, whom she had temporary guardianship over for the summer.

He’d been handed a gift when January decided to let him back into her life as a friend. It had been touch and go there for a few weeks, but they were working together for the summer.

And he still made her smile.

God, that felt good.

He was trying not to overthink why it mattered so much, when all of their history was long-ago water under the bridge. And she’d made it clear she wasn’t interested in revisiting the past or worrying about the future.

But he liked making her smile.

A lot.

It was more than he’d ever imagined possible, so it was enough, even if his overheated dreams stretched well beyond those boundaries.

He couldn’t control his unconscious thoughts while he slept.

He could, however, focus the shit out of his awake thoughts. Back to the checklist.

Because his float plane carried passengers, and he was both pilot and flight attendant for the fly-in trips to fishing and hunting lodges, he had to clean and return the cabin to ready status for the next day. Then he wiped down the exterior of the plane, paying particular attention to the windshield. And finally, he double-checked his tie-up for the night.

The aluminum clipboard he kept his checklists on was banged up, wearing a sticker his niece Becca put on it when she was ten. That was the first year he’d flown himself to Pine Harbour, after a decade of careful avoidance. He’d borrowed a buddy’s small two-seater to test out how he felt about owning a small craft after almost a decade of flying larger planes for the Air Force.

He loved the plane.

Had mixed feelings about returning home.

Even now, after another ten years, he was still working through complicated feelings about this town he’d once left in his rearview mirror—and the woman whose secret he’d kept for all that time.

He glared down at the clipboard. Checklists grounded him, most of the time. But today, he couldn’t keep his thoughts from rioting.

After glancing at the marina, he tucked his clipboard away and locked up. Time to seek out the subject of all of his errant thoughts, conscious and unconscious.

But January wasn’t in the marina office. Hanging in the window was her beloved “back in ten minutes” sign that actually meant “not here, not sure when we’ll be back, call my cell phone.”

They weren’t yet on a texting each other basis, so he pulled a piece of paper from his bag. Why was a note less intimate than texting? He wasn’t sure. Maybe because this way didn’t demand a response.

He didn’t want to demand anything of January. He only wanted to soak up what she was able to freely give him.

But he couldn’t figure out what to put on the note either.

And then he was saved from the surprisingly uncharacteristic indecision by the noisy approach of preteens.

He shoved the paper into his pocket and turned just as January and her wards rounded the corner.

“Hey, Seth,” her niece Summer said with all the casual indifference a thirteen-year-old could bring to a greeting.

He envied her that cool. Felt certain that his gaze was anything but chill as it caught on January. She was wearing a t-shirt with a math joke on it and a pair of loose khaki shorts. It was an entirely civilized outfit, even a little dorky, but all he could see was the way her tits presented the math equation and the swing of her hips beneath the cotton shorts.

Eyes up, Kincaid.

But even that instruction didn’t clean up his thoughts, because her hair was down today, a riot of golden waves, and her eyes had a new sparkle.

Hey, you, he imagined her expression was saying. Something intimately private.

And that really reflected on just how lacking his private life had been recently that he couldn’t even imagine something more explicit or seductive than hey, you.

But in January’s voice, it would be everything he might ever need to hear.

“Dinner,” he barked out. Great save, Kincaid. He added more words for explanation. “I was thinking of getting takeout from Mac’s. Could I bring food back for you guys as well?”

“Oh, that’s not—” January looked uncertain, but her eleven-year-old nephew Levi was all in.

“I want a burger.”

Summer shrugged. “I don’t know what I want, though.”

January sighed. “It’s not a long menu, honey. You like the grilled cheese and the Caesar salad, right?”

“Can I go with Seth?”

Of course she could. They all could. “Sure,” he said easily. “Let’s all go.”

January insisted on driving because her car was right there, and his current vehicle in Pine Harbour was an old truck named Betty that his brother was restoring—and that only had one bench seat.

It was better suited for a two-person drive, and January knew it, because he’d taken her to lunch at Mac’s once already. Just as friends, he’d insisted—or she’d insisted, and he’d agreed, because he didn’t have any other option immediately in front of him.

He just wanted her, however he could have her.

He just wanted time, to figure her out. Because January Howe didn’t have a checklist—and couldn’t be reduced to one.

At the diner, there was a brief discussion about whether or not they should just eat there, but the kids had homework. Then there was the small matter of not feeding the small-town gossip machine, although with each casual dinner they shared, that seemed less and less important. And it was nice to eat their dinner back at the marina, on the deck overlooking the boats in dock.

The kids ate faster than the grown-ups, and it wasn’t long before Seth and January were left alone together to finish.

Their conversation drifted to business and work. She was endlessly curious about his air ferry service, which he couldn’t deny felt good, and he was equally supportive of her temporary management of the marina—and understanding of her secret desire to get back to teaching at the high school sooner than later.

But as much as he had an endless appetite for learning about her life now, he still fumbled with the boundaries on just how interested he could be without scaring her off. Unlike his plane, there weren’t any procedure checklists for January.

He thought about reading a self-help book. They probably existed. Ten Ways to Reconnect With Your High School Girlfriend. When You’ve Loved, Lost, and Lived: Returning Home a Changed Man.

No. They didn’t exist.

Maybe in time he’d just be able to ask her.

“What do you need?” That wasn’t the right question.

“What makes you run smooth?” That was getting closer.

“What are your warning signs that something’s wrong?” He could probably ask her that now. She was stressed. He was a friend.

He opened his mouth to try something like it, and she leaned over and poked his forearm.

Poked.

A playful shove of her finger against his sun-warmed flesh. The briefest, most casual of contact, but it sparked a cascade of feeling inside him.

“What’s on your mind?” she asked. “You’re frowning.”

Well, now he was trying to contain a chubby from being poked. He wanted to catch her hand and run his thumb over the pulse point on the inside of her wrist.

Of course he was frowning.

He kept telling himself that it was enough to just make her smile, when he really wanted to make her gasp and shiver and laugh and swoon.

JANUARY HAD SPENT weeks thinking way too much about the faint lines around Seth’s firm mouth and at the corners of his kind eyes. She’d wondered if they were laugh lines or frown lines, and now she knew for certain—they came from deep thinking.

He’d startled at her poke, and she worried for a moment that it was too familiar. A mixed message when she wasn’t sure yet how she wanted this new-again friendship to take shape.

A vision of him on top of her immediately came to mind, along with a familiar wave of traitorous heat. Every man she’d ever been with as an adult had been measured against her teenage fumbling with Seth, and the memory of him always won out.

She had zero doubt the mature version would be even better. But the ramifications of all that would entail—and the cost of it, the inevitable hurt—were too much to consider. She wasn’t in a position to put her feelings on the line like that. Not right now. Not yet.

Besides, right now, she was still waiting for him to respond.

He was schooling his features into something that approximated not-a-frown. “Is that better?” he asked.

She laughed. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing. I like your frown. It’s thoughtful.”

“Probably the first time anyone has ever said that about me.”

Now her brow was furrowed. “Come on.”

He shrugged. “Maybe I foster that lone wolf impression.”

“Good brand for the bush pilot. Rugged individualism.” She was teasing. Mostly.

He winked. “Exactly.”

“Your passengers seem that sort.”

That couldn’t be denied. “Mmm.”

“Is it possible that Seth Kincaid is secretly more of a pack animal than he lets on?”

His lips twitched. “How would David Attenborough narrate my return to Pine Harbour?”

She thought about it for a second. “But every few decades, the lone wolf quietly migrates home. To reconnect with his pack and recharge for his next adventure in the great, wide world.”

Those thinking lines deepened again. Then he nodded and shrugged. “Probably accurate.”

The thought of him leaving again hurt, as she knew it would. So she clung instead to the unarguable fact that it was her little family he was choosing to spend most of his time with while he was here. He saw his brothers, too, but even after all this time, she was a part of his pack.

The realization stole her breath away.

The next time she had him over for dinner, she decided, she was going to make sure they had more of this alone time. Just to foster a little bit more of this connection, whatever it was. Wherever it was leading…she wouldn’t fight it any longer.

CHAPTER THREE

Six months later, another fearless night

THIS NIGHT WAS SPECIAL.

The entire year had been special. And hard. But all of those painful moments—when January’s sister had gone overseas for work, when she’d taken on primary guardianship of her niece and nephew and accepted the responsibility for the family marina that she sort-of hated because of the shitty memories there, but also loved for more complicated reasons—were made softer at every turn by the most unexpected joy.

The return of Seth to her life.

She’d resisted for weeks. Then fibbed to herself, even as she tumbled back into love with him. This wasn’t forever. It was just a summer fling.

But then the summer came to a close, and she couldn’t let him go. She’d braced for heartbreak all over again, knowing he was a wanderlust soul who needed—

And yet, here he was. In her house. Their house. He scooped her into his arms every day when she came home from teaching at the school and curled around her every night in their bed. As snow fell heavily outside, he was clattering in the kitchen. Their kitchen. Their bed.

Their life together, more complete than she could ever have imagined. A life they’d chosen together, a life made possible by another choice two decades earlier.

“Sweetheart?” She heard him calling for her, but she was lost in her thoughts, so it took her a minute. The same amount of time it took for him to come and find her. “Babe?”

“Yeah.” She pushed off the couch and crossed to him. “Sorry, I was… Is dinner ready?”

He gave her a slow grin that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. And he looped one arm around her, holding her close against him. “Yeah, it is.”

But he said it like he knew dinner wasn’t on her mind. “What’s that look for?”

“Nothing. You’re just pretty when your brain is whirring. You…” He pressed his thumb gently to her lower lip, where she could still feel the indent of her teeth. “You were thinking hard. Anything you want to talk about?”

“I’m ovulating.”

He went very, very still. “Right now?”

She exhaled nervously. “I think we’re good for the whole night. Probably tomorrow morning, too. We can probably do it a few times and—”

“I’m not opposed to just turning everything off and—” He swore under his breath and jogged ahead of her to the kitchen, doing just that. “It’ll wait.”

“Seth!” But he was dragging her upstairs.

I think I’m ovulating, she should have said, to be specific. She’d spent two decades making sure she couldn’t get pregnant. Suddenly wanting to, after all this time, drew on a completely different knowledge bank, and she felt like a nervous newbie all over again.

At the top of the stairs, he stopped, his chest heaving, and he pressed her against the wall. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I mean, I tracked the calendar, and I felt a twinge, so—”

“I mean about having a baby.” He braced his arms on either side of her and leaned in. His lips brushed hers. “We can wait if you aren’t sure.”

They were getting married in the spring. But they were grown-ups, and they’d waited a long time to start a family together. Plus, getting pregnant now meant she’d have the entire next school year off for maternity leave, and as a teacher—

She surged into him, pressing her mouth harder against his. Yes, she was sure. And not for any logical reason. Those were all garnish on top of the fact that she loved him with her whole heart. She knew what it was to live a full life without him, and she knew what it was to build this life with him.

She wanted it all. The house. Kids. Dinners put on hold for wild monkey sex. The whole shebang.

That made her giggle.

“What is it?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I want the whole shebang,” she whispered. “Get it? She bang? Shebang. That’s what we’re going to do here, while the dinner you made gets cold.”

He picked her up as she shrieked, winding her limbs around his body in a desperate bid to hold on. His palm connected with the softest, most protected part of her ass.

“I get it,” he growled. “And you’re about to get it.”

“That’s so romantic,” she sighed after he tumbled her to the bed. She batted her eyelashes at him and pressed her hands to her chest.

He grunted and pulled off his shirt.

Ooh, how she loved the look of his body now. Thicker all over. More hair concentrated in the middle of his torso.

He’d lived a whole life while they were apart. Flew planes all over the world. And now he’d finally come home to fly a float plane in the summer and make babies with her in the winter.

Deliberately this time.

Maybe they were both being goofy because the weight of this decision was staggering.

“Stay with me,” he growled as he shoved his jeans off.

“I’m right here,” she whispered.

“I know it’s a lot.”

“It’s not—”

He fell on top of her, his weight now familiar and comforting. He braced his arms on either side of her head and found her eyes. Held her gaze, his own warm and deep with emotion. “It is a lot for me. That we’re doing this.”

Why had she tried to minimize it? She wrapped her arms around him. “Of course it is. For me, too. But I don’t want to rush through this time when it’s just us, either.”

“We’ll have nine months.” How did he always know how to soothe her ragged worries? “All winter, just the two of us, and all next summer, too. Lots of time to adjust to the idea of becoming parents.”

They’d discussed it before. The day he proposed. The day he moved in. Last month when she decided to get serious about tracking her cycle and actively try to get pregnant.

And now…

She kissed his jaw. Licked her favourite spot just below his ear. Made him shudder and growl. Nothing was better than making him come undone. Doing it to make a baby together?

Of course it was big.

He tugged her leggings down just enough to get a palm on her ass and squeeze. The rough pull against his body made her heart race. As if he needed her soft curves moulded against him, as if she was a balm to his ragged parts.

When her legs were spread on either side of his thigh and their torsos fit together perfectly from hip to shoulders, he made a contented sound that was still mostly growl, but a relieved one. Almost a purr, if big, burly men could purr. Much in the same way a big wild cat could, she figured.

“I thought about this while you were at work.” He rocked them together. “Wanted you beneath me tonight.”

He wanted her most nights, and on the rare evenings that ended with an early bedtime instead, they tended to slide together in the morning before getting out of bed.

But there was a different tension between them today.

He could count calendar days just as well as she, after all.

“I’m here,” she said before catching his lips with her mouth. “I’m yours.”

The hoarse groan of her name on his lips was everything she needed to let go of her thoughts and sink into the heat of the moment.

They kissed again, harder and faster now, then tumbled, the last pieces of clothing flinging off the bed until she was totally naked and pinned down. He loomed over her, proud and intense, then dragged one of his hands down her torso. Circled her nipple, teased her belly button, then slowed as he neared her sex.

Her whole body quivered in anticipation. His knuckles grazed her curls, then the sensitive crease at the top of her thigh, almost at her pussy.

She shuddered.

“It’s different tonight,” he said, his voice rough.

She nodded.

Then he grinned, a half smile that flooded her with a fresh burst of love. “Might be good luck.”

“I hope so.” Her voice cracked, and his gaze softened.

“My beautiful girl,” he murmured as he stroked his thumb up the centre of her sex. “You’re all I need. You know that, right?”

“Yes.”

“Louder.” He rolled his confident touch over her clit, then pulled it lower again. Deeper now. He found her entrance and circled it. “You’re everything to me.”

“Yes,” she gasped, and her legs curled up and out, spreading for him as heat bloomed from her core.

He sank two fingers into her, then covered her with his body. Bringing them closer together. Skin to skin, mouth to mouth. Above her head, he clenched his other hand tight against hers.

She would take some good luck, but whether or not they made a baby, this was the best life she could imagine.

“I love you,” she breathed as he stretched her, preparing her to take his cock. “I love our life.”

“Gonna make you my wife,” he whispered as he replaced his fingers with his erection, notching it against her clenching entrance. “Because you’re the love of my life.”

He was already her partner in every way that mattered.

She gasped as he thrust deep, filling her up with his rigid length.

“Goddammit, January.” He growled as he stilled.

She smiled, even as her lips parted and her body shuddered again.

He found her gaze and held it.

Yes, tonight felt like good luck, indeed.

Slowly, they started to move. He stroked every soft spot he could find on her body, and she curved her limbs up and around him. Their mouths came together in languid kisses, then broke apart to grin at each other.

Ever since they’d gotten back together, Seth had commanded her attention during sex. Look at me, he’d growl, and tonight, he didn’t need to demand it, because she never wanted to look away.

He was the most beautiful thing in the world to her. She loved his big, fierce presence and his secret vulnerable side, too. He was impossibly handsome and utterly arousing.

SETH WAS ABOUT to lose his tenuous control on his impending orgasm, and that just would not do.

Fuck.

The way January was gazing up at him adoringly was both everything he’d ever wanted and too fucking much.

“Come here. I want you on top,” he murmured, sliding out of her just long enough to flip them over and get himself braced against their headboard.

He’d reinforced this bed frame for Olympic-level fucking when they moved in, and he was glad for it now, the way she flew against him. He dug his feet into the mattress and surged up, bringing them back together.

Her wet heat surrounding him again was the perfect kind of torture. But this angle was her kryptonite, and what a joy it was to know that about his woman.

He stroked his hand up her body, his gaze following the path as his fingers squeezed her hips, her breast, her neck, and then slid to her face as he buried his hand in her hair.

Clutched her to him, holding her tight as she took his thick length all the way down to the root.

“Seth,” she panted. “Yes, there.”

“I’m close,” he told her urgently. “I’m going to come with you. Let go, sweetheart, and you’ll take me with you.”

“I need…” She gasped, her words strangled, and he ducked his head to pull her nipple into his mouth. “Yes!”

Her body crashed down on his, her hips stuttering as her climax tore through her from her core, radiating to her shaking limbs, and he pumped his hips off the bed, filling her from below.

It was only as his sustained, wild groan finished reverberating around them that he realized this might be the optimal position for getting his beautiful fiancée off, but it wasn’t ideal for baby-making.

With a grunt, he flipped them over again, and as January laughed in startled delight, he shoved a pillow under her hips.

“I don’t think this is necessary,” she said breathlessly, pressing her thighs together. “And also, it feels messy.”

He grinned.

“You like that?”

He curved his hand over her thigh. “Show me.”

“Seth!”

“I’m proud of my work.”

She dissolved into husky laughter. “That was…amazing.”

“Do you want dinner in bed before round two?”

She tentatively lifted her hips, then settled back down. “Sure, why not?”

“Love that attitude.” He stretched out beside her and settled his hand low on her belly.

He didn’t miss the way her breath hitched.

So some things needed to be repeated outside the throes of passion. “I meant what I said. You’re perfect and everything I’ve ever wanted.”

She reached for his face. “I know. A baby will just be a bonus.”

He exhaled in relief.

Then his stomach growled. “Okay, stay here. I’ll bring dinner up.”

When he returned, she’d grabbed a towel from the bathroom, which he couldn’t blame her for, but she’d returned to the stretched-out position.

“How long should I lie like this?”

He picked a blueberry out of the salad. “Just for the appetizer course.”

CHAPTER FOUR

The final fearless night, four and a half years after that

THERE WAS a fight between her sisters and his brothers as to who would get to babysit Asher when January went into labour with baby number two. A good-natured fight, because everyone loved their little family, but an argument, nonetheless.

January’s sister August wanted him to stay at the marina with her. Seth’s brother Owen pointed out that his house was babyproofed, and August’s kids were much older.

In the end, Asher hadn’t gone anywhere, because January went into labour after he fell asleep, and by the time the midwife came to check on her, things had progressed so quickly there was no time to go to the hospital.

His little sister would be arriving before he woke up in the morning. She’d probably arrive in the next thirty minutes, news that sent the labouring mom into an absolute panic.

“But I like the hospital,” she said, clinging to Seth’s shirt. “They have the good drugs there.”

He didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t wrong. Asher’s delivery had been straightforward. They’d driven to the hospital and had hours to pace the halls as her labour progressed, and then when it got hard, she had an epidural and took a nap.

As their midwife Jenna pulled supplies out of the giant duffel bag she hauled in from the car, he could only hold his wife and tell her how strong she was.

When Jenna returned, she wasn’t alone. Seth’s sister-in-law Kerry had arrived as Jenna’s backup, and now that there were two midwives, January could start pushing.

“I don’t want to,” she panted, even as her body contracted visibly. January gave Kerry a desperate look. “Are you sure there’s no time to go to the hospital?”

Kerry chuckled. “I like the negotiating spirit, but Jenna says you’re fully dilated and baby’s right there. This is happening.”

“We had a plan.”

“This is part of that plan. The backup plan.” Jenna gave Seth a quick look, as if to say, be whatever she needs right now, and he didn’t need to be told twice. “Where do you want Seth?”

January moaned.

He took that to mean behind her, and he moved more fully onto the bed.

Later, she would think it was special that their family was made complete in the same bed where they’d conceived both children.

Right now, she was overwhelmed with the speed at which it was all happening.

He wrapped his arms around her, giving her his hands to grip against, to push down on, and then he slowed his own breaths, making them audibly low in her ear. As her contraction passed, she sagged back against him, and slowly their breathing synced up.

“My beautiful wife,” he murmured as she took a moment of rest.

“I can’t do this,” she said, her voice shaking.

“You are, though. You are doing this so well. Exhale…”

She cried for a second, but then pushed her breath down and out, and when the next contraction seized, she curled her whole body forward.

He rocked with her, keeping his chest right against her back as she bore down against Jenna’s instruction.

“Again,” their midwife said when that contraction passed. “Two more, and you’ll be holding her.”

January didn’t say anything this time; she just panted in his arms, and he held her until she surged again.

And then, on the third contraction, as promised, Jenna lifted a tiny pink body up onto January’s chest.

“It’s a girl,” Jenna said, quickly checking their new baby out in the most efficient way possible, not moving her from January’s embrace.

Seth’s throat tightened up as a fresh wave of emotion rolled through him. A baby girl for his beautiful wife. He tried and failed to remember any of the girl names they’d considered. He couldn’t think of anything beyond those ten perfect toes and the tiny, squeaking cries coming from the impossibly small being who had just come into this world.

“She’s perfect,” January breathed.

He fumbled for his phone on the bedside table. Recorded a video of mother and daughter quietly greeting each other, then took a couple of pictures, all from a selfie angle as he cradled them both in front of him. The look of wonder on January’s face would stay with him for the rest of time.

When Kerry moved around to help January latch the baby on, after the third stage of labour was finished, he slid out from behind her. The midwives changed the bedding, masters of efficiency, then got her sitting up against the headboard.

“Do we still have that bottle of champagne in the fridge?” January looked at Jenna. “I can drink a glass of bubbly, right?”

“Be my guest.”

January gave him a happy, hormone-laden grin. “Okay, this is one advantage over going to the hospital.”

“I’m on it.” He kissed the top of her head, then headed for the stairs.

Just before he descended, Asher’s bedroom door swung open. “Daddy?”

“Hey, my favourite guy. What are you doing up?”

“I’m thirsty.”

“Well, it just so happens that I’m grabbing your mom a drink, too. Come here.” He scooped Asher up and carried him downstairs, where he set him on the kitchen counter. “Do you want milk or water?”

“Water.”

Seth filled a sippy cup for Asher. He could handle an open cup now, no problem, but he was sleepy, and they were about to head upstairs again.

Then Seth found a champagne flute in the upper cabinets, set it on a tray with some toast and strawberries and a wedge of brie.

“Daddy, carry me?”

He glanced at the tray and back at his son, not quite sure how to juggle it all, and then Kerry appeared from upstairs. “I’ll help you,” she whispered. “We heard Asher wake up.”

Seth grabbed the bottle of wine in one hand and his son in the other, then led the way.

As soon as Asher saw January, his eyes got really big, and his little mouth pulled into a surprised O. “Mommy?”

“Hey, baby.” She patted the bed next to her. “Come meet your sister.”

“I’m not baby,” he said with wonder. “That’s our baby now.”

Seth’s throat got tight all of a sudden, and he carefully put Asher down. His son dropped to his knees and wiggled closer to his little sister.

“Hi, baby,” he whispered.

Her eyelids fluttered.

“We need a name,” January said softly.

Seth put down the champagne, then dropped to his knees on the other side of her. “I’ve forgotten all our names.”

“They’re on your phone.”

“Right.” He looked at her dumbly for a moment, then laughed and pulled it out.

“It all happened so fast,” she breathed.

“You were so brave.” He showed her the list. They gazed down at their daughter. January pointed to the first name on the list, and Seth looked at Asher. “Does she look like a Willow to you, buddy?”

Asher’s face lit up. “Baby Willow?”

“That’s it,” January said. She smiled as she exhaled and leaned her head back against the headboard.

He poured her a glass of bubbly. “To you,” he said, handing it over.

“No glass for you?”

He held up the bottle. “I’m good.”

That made Jenna and Kerry chuckle from the other side of the room. He’d practically forgotten they were there, as they tidied up and made themselves invisible, waiting to do one last check on mom and baby before leaving for the night.

They’d be back tomorrow for another checkup. Then in a few days, Willow would make her first trip to their clinic.

He knew the routine from Asher’s birth. It didn’t seem any less wild to him that they just, bam, had a newborn to take care of, but they were blessed with the best care and all the comforts of home.

As January smiled at him over her glass of champagne, and he took Willow so his wife could nibble on snacks from the tray, he thought about that night twenty-five years ago. How young they had been. How grateful they weren’t forced to become parents before they were ready.

And now, he was grateful all over again, because neither of their babies would exist if their lives had taken a different path back then.

She fed Asher a strawberry, then glanced back at Seth. “You okay?”

“I’m great.” He kissed her forehead. “Feeling blessed tonight.”

“Me too.”

“I love a picnic in bed,” he said softly.

She knew what he was thinking about. Another night four and a half years ago. Together, they looked at their son, then their daughter, and they both smiled.

Four Fearless Nights is a Pine Harbour short story! Welcome (or welcome back) to this small town full of incredible friendship, fan-yourself steamy romance, and characters so real you will call them your friends. Love in a Small Town, the very first Pine Harbour novel, is free everywhere ebooks are sold. Like Four Fearless Nights, it’s a “we’re older and wiser now, let’s try a second chance at love” story.

About the Author

If you want to explore more of Zoe York’s books, visit her website at www.zoeyork.com, where you will find bonus content about Seth and January (Willow as a toddler!), links to connect with her on social media, and complete reading order lists for all her series, including Pine Harbour and the Kincaids of Pine Harbour.