Tell Me To Stay
Willow Winters
Contents
Also by Willow Winters
Tell Me to Stay
Preface
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue
Sneak Peek at Second Chance
Prologue
About Willow Winters
Also by Willow Winters
Also by Willow Winters
Sinful Obsessions Series:
It’s Our Secret
Possessive
A Kiss to Tell
Start Carter & Aria’s saga with Merciless, today for 99c!
Merciless
Heartless
Breathless
Endless
Jase & Bethany - Irresistible Attraction Trilogy
A Single Glance
A Single Kiss
A Single Touch
Standalone Novels:
Broken
Forget Me Not
Sins and Secrets Duets:
Imperfect (Imperfect Duet book 1)
Unforgiven (Imperfect Duet book 2)
Damaged (Damaged Duet book 1)
Scarred (Damaged Duet book 2)
Willow Winters
Standalone Novels:
Tell Me To Stay
Second Chance
Knocking Boots
Promise Me
Burned Promises
Forsaken, cowritten with B. B. Hamel
Collections
Don’t Let Go
Deepen The Kiss
Valetti Crime Family Series:
Dirty Dom
His Hostage
Rough Touch
Cuffed Kiss
Bad Boy
Highest Bidder Series,
cowritten with Lauren Landish:
Bought
Sold
Owned
Given
Bad Boy Standalones,
cowritten with Lauren Landish:
Inked
Tempted
Mr. CEO
Happy reading and best wishes,
W Winters xx
Tell Me to Stay
Tell Me to Stay
by Willow Winters
From USA Today bestselling author, Willow Winters, comes a seductive and emotionally captivating second-chance romance.
It’s impossible to get over what we had.
He was everything — irresistibly handsome, ruthlessly elite, and seemingly untouchable — while I was nothing.
Yet he protected me when I was at my lowest; more than that, he wanted me.
He devoured me… and I did the same to him.
Until it all fell apart and I ran as far away from Madox as I could. After all, the two of us were never meant to be together.
I never thought I’d see him again, years later. Let alone be under him in the way I’ve craved since we said goodbye.
The attraction between us still burns like fire, but time can’t change the past. And I don’t know if it’s possible for us to mend all of our broken pieces.
"Winters creates another masterpiece of beautiful storytelling and leaves her readers breathless." - Nicki - The Overflowing Bookcase
This romance was originally published in the Cards of Love collection. It has been revised with additional scenes. Happy reading xx.
Preface
Seven years ago
“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” I ask him from across the room. A room far too large for what it is. I’m not used to houses like this.
“Like what?”
“Like you can’t look anywhere else.” I can feel my cheeks burning from knowing he’s watching me as I read. My response is meant to sound exasperated and maybe frustrated. Instead, my words are breathless and vulnerability lingers in every syllable.
“Your answer is in your question, Soph.”
Prologue
Madox
I didn’t know she’d left me until her plane had already taken off. That’s the shittiest part of it.
We fucked. We fought. We shared every part of our flawed pieces with each other. That’s the way it always was with us. Apparently, that wasn’t enough to keep her that night.
I didn’t get another word from her after the “fuck you” she spat at me right before her front door slammed in my face. No matter how hard I banged on her apartment door, demanding an answer for why she’d done what she did. I can still feel the way the anger rolled off me as I stood there in the hall for far too long, wondering what the fuck I was even doing there. I didn’t belong in her world — just like she didn’t belong in mine. Shit, my Armani suit didn’t need to spend a single second on that side of the bridge.
But I’d followed her there just the same. That’s what she did to me. We broke each other down to the raw bits that only acted on primal needs. Fighting and fucking. No one ever made me lose it like she did. No one ever made me feel as high, as needed… or as loved as she did, either.
Seeing her across the bar three years later does something to me I’ve never felt before. As I lift the whiskey to my lips, the ice clinks against the glass as the music fades to white noise. All I can see is the way her lips stay parted ever so slightly after she takes a sip of her drink.
It’s like slow motion.
All I can hear is the hum of satisfaction I know is about to slip from those pouty lips the second her glass hits the bar top.
She came back.
All I can feel is my cock getting harder by the second.
And I need her to love me just as much as I need to punish her for leaving me the way she did.
Chapter 1
Sophie
Seven years ago
“I didn’t think I scared you,” he says and Madox’s voice is rough until he clears his throat.
“You don’t,” I answer him although my heart beats wildly inside of me, as if slamming against my rib cage in denial of what I just said.
“Then why do you keep looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
His smirk is slow to form. It’s wicked and charming, just like Madox himself.
“Like you’re waiting for me to pounce on you.”
With a slight tilt of my head and my blood pressure rising, I simply give Madox words he’s told me before. “Your answer is in your question.”
Today
There’s something about flying that makes me horny. Not full blown, not like that. Just… turned on a little. Like a smidgen.
Maybe it’s fear; the perceived danger, even though I know logically it’s the safest way to travel. Still, as the engine rumbles and roars in my ears, I feel the vibrations intensify under me. My eyes close, my breathing hitches, and I have to grip the edge of the seat.
Pathetic, aren’t you? Is your life really that boring? My inner voice is a bitch, but she’s not wrong.
The snide thought makes me smirk, even while my heart lurches as the plane finally leaves the safety of land. I almost laugh at my ridiculous response. Especially given I’m in the close confines of coach seating with so many strangers, all of us headed from San Francisco to New York.
It’s a long flight to sit this close to someone. I peek up after feeling the rush, offering a polite and tight-lipped smile to the elderly lady on my right, in the middle seat. The woman and the man next t
o her in the aisle seat, who I assume is her husband, are already preparing their neck pillows to nap and neither of them pays me any attention.
Thank God.
Leaning closer to the window to glance out, placing most of my weight on the armrest, I let the relief wash through me as my heartbeat slows back down.
Time ticks by, the droning sound of the pilot speaking muffled by the white noise of the plane, and as the plane settles, so does that feeling deep in my belly.
My grip goes from white knuckled to loose, and my pulse returns to normal. The jitters that hit me for a brief moment, that tiny moment when I questioned if I would be all right, those jitters eventually subside. The desire fades too.
It’s not always like this.
I know part of the reason I feel this way is because I’m going back to his city. The hints of apprehension and thoughts of him make for a deadly concoction.
It’s odd to think of New York as if it’s dominated by a single man. But he’s the only one who’s always ruled it as far as I’m concerned. Even when we were teenagers.
Madox Reed takes what he wants; he always has. Irresistibly handsome, ruthlessly elite, and seemingly untouchable, there was nothing that he couldn’t have back then. And so New York simply belongs to him in my eyes. Even if it’s an utterly ridiculous thought.
I wish he’d stay in the past where he belongs. It’s fucking killing me that I’m letting the thoughts of a man I once knew bother me so damn much.
I cross and uncross my legs, pretending like he doesn’t matter and as if this anxiety I’m feeling is solely because I’m flying. I’ve always been shitty at lying to myself though. Yeah, these nerves aren’t from the plane, they’re because of him.
He’s been on my mind ever since I packed my final bag last night. If I’m honest with myself, ever since the phone call saying I got the job and learned I’d be moving back to New York, I’ve been thinking of him. But this has to stop. This is about new beginnings and my past will stay right there, where it belongs. In the past.
Trisha’s dropping off my boxes at the post office today and with those last three shipped, everything I own will be delivered to 55 Thompson Street, apartment 617 in gorgeous SoHo. I owe her more than a few drinks when she finally comes to visit me. I hope she comes sooner rather than later.
I’ll be alone in the city, and my one friend is all the way across the country now.
Trish’s brother, Brett, is technically a friend as well, and he’s always been kind to me. He’s also technically in New York but friends with Madox, so there’s no fucking way I’ll be contacting him. None of those guys will be getting a message from me to let them know I’m back. No. Fucking. Way.
They were a tight crew back then and I know Brett, or any of the guys for that matter, would tell Madox I’ve returned. So that shit’s not happening. No matter how much I miss everyone. I left our entire group of friends – basically my family — and I up and left without a word, tagging along with Trish.
A heavy exhale leaves me slowly as I watch the clouds surround us.
I don’t even want to think about them. So yeah, I won’t be reaching out to any of them, but if worse comes to worst, I know Brett would be there for me. He’s a last resort.
At the thought of what I left years ago – and why – the knots in my stomach tighten and I have to readjust in my seat, pulling out the magazine I bought during my two-hour wait at the terminal.
I’d rather think about Madox and all the dirty shit he did to me than what his group of friends – my former friends – will think of me coming back.
The plane dips and so does my stomach, as if it’s some sign to stop thinking about him, but in true fashion, it only causes a blush to rise to my cheeks. When all’s said and done, I’m left feeling like I’m hiding a secret from however many people are on this plane, holding a wrinkled issue of the most recent edition of Elle Décor in my hands.
Oops.
I take a minute to smooth it out, trying to pull myself together. Soon I’ll be able to afford something in these glossy pages.
The clouds stream past on the other side of the cool window and I watch until they’re beneath us and we’re riding in nothing but a vibrant hue of blue.
It’s better for me that I take this position, even if it is in New York. I don’t know how many times I’ve told myself that. It’s best that I work for a company with an established background and steady clients lined up. I’m damn good at what I do, and things are finally going my way.
I know how to turn failing businesses around and I can spot an error in marketing faster than a new bakery can post to Instagram with a rookie mistake – perfectly decorated cupcakes, plus a sink full of dirty dishes in the background. Love is in the details, and I know every damn detail that matters.
But I’m young for the industry, in my mid-twenties. San Francisco was … expensive. Bills added up and I’m ashamed that I couldn’t afford it all myself. I took a risk investing everything that I had into myself, my brand, my company.
I have to swallow hard after the next breath. Pride is a lumpy fucker. I was going to let Trish keep bailing me out and covering my half of the rent. But this is a stable job with no risk. It’s where I could hope to be ten years from now on my own. This job is a blessing, even if it’s coming after falling a little short on my own.
I’d do it all over again if I could. I’ll always invest in myself and my passions. Even if I had to work for free just to fill out a résumé. That’s where I went wrong, I think. I felt bad for people I knew could succeed if only their branding were more to market, if only they invested in advertising, if only they managed their social media better… if only, if only, if only. If only I’d charged them what I should have, instead of going above and beyond, all while working pro bono.
At least word got around that I’m good at what I do. It was worth it. For a position as a branding advisor in Candor Designs, the most sought-after marketing firm in the country.
It was worth it, and everything happens for a reason. I may not have made money, but I made a damn good name for myself.
As I’m toeing my satchel back under the seat in front of me, I barely look up and catch the flight attendant telling me about the drink cart and how only cards are accepted. The smile on my face is a genuine response. I open the magazine pretending I’m not still thinking about my first love and how every minute that passes, I’m getting that much closer to him.
Our memories are what make us who we are. The majority of mine from when I grew up are consumed with Madox, although I’ve been able to avoid them since I moved away. Most of the time, anyway.
That giddiness, that fear I felt only moments ago when the plane took off is familiar to me. It’s the same thing I feel when I think of Madox. Every time. I’ve never stopped loving him, but sometimes fate simply doesn’t let love be enough.
I’m not going to spend the entire flight thinking about him. I’m starting over, not looking back. My resolve is firm as I turn the pages of the magazine.
I just hope I don’t see him again. After all, New York is filled with so many people. And there’s only one of him. Even if he rules the city.
Chapter 2
Sophie
Seven years ago
It’s different when there’s no one else with us. Last week I didn’t want anyone else around, but now? The thought of being alone with him makes my skin heat with a fire I’ve never felt before.
“Hey.” Madox nudges my elbow with his as he leans in closer and asks me, “You want to get out of here?”
The thumpity-thump inside my chest can’t be ignored. It’s so loud I’m sure everyone in here can hear it.
“Where do you want to go?” I ask him, knowing that even before he gives me an answer, “yes” is already waiting to slip past my lips.
“Name it,” he tells me like that it’s that easy. “We can go wherever you want.”
Alone. Is there a place called Alone? Somewhere we can be by ourse
lves.
I want to see what this fire turns into when he touches me.
Today
I’m here.
I text Trish the second I finally make it to Thompson Street. My phone instantly buzzes with a response and then another as I gaze out the front window of my brand-spanking-new apartment and then look back to the expansive dining room. I feel sick and anxious. None of this is me. It feels too expensive, too chic.
Too much like how it felt when I realized what the other side of this world is like when I first met Maddox … and there I go thinking of him again.
Too much like a woman trying to fit into a world that doesn’t belong to her. From the thick silk curtains lining the floor-to-ceiling windows that could have come straight from that Elle Décor magazine, to the accent pillows that would be stained with makeup if I dared lay my head on them.
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