Exposure

by Ember Dante

  “Thank you, babe. I love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  His hands grasped my ribcage and pushed me away. “You haven’t finished. Go check your stocking.”

  “My stocking?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  I stood and stepped to the mantel, dodging errant pieces of wrapping paper. I grabbed both stockings, handing his over as I returned to the sofa. He accepted it, but just as quickly deposited it on the floor beside him. Curious. My hand dipped inside and removed all the typical stocking stuffers—a couple tubes of my favorite hand cream, chocolates, a pair of slipper socks because my feet were always cold. There was also a gift card to Barnes and Noble.

  “Went a little overboard, didn’t you?” I asked, lifting a brow.

  “It’s Christmas.” He smiled.

  I pushed my hand back in, and my fingers brushed against something velvet. My heart stopped, then picked up an erratic beat against my ribs. I took several deep breaths, trying to remain calm. I pulled back and removed a square black velvet box. Tears sprung to my eyes, and I pressed the trembling fingers of my other hand to my lips. I couldn’t move. Hell, I couldn’t even think. Somehow, Ian’s soothing voice pushed through the fog in my brain.

  “I’ve always known what I wanted out of life, and what I didn’t. At least, I thought I did. I thought I was happy. But that was before I met you. The night you stumbled into my life was the night I realized how empty it was. Up to that point, I lived in black and white—everything devoid of color.” He paused and inhaled deeply.

  “When I looked into your eyes, everything came into focus. That night, with you, was the night my life started. You colored my world and made it beautiful. Everything that came before was meaningless. Living without you would be meaningless, too.”

  He slid onto one knee and reached over, gently opening the box in my hand to display a huge solitaire flanked by smaller pear-shaped stones. “I love you more than anything, Emmy. I want to share my life with you. I want to have babies with you. I want to grow old with you. Will you marry me?”

  Tears spilled from my eyes, and my lips curved into a wobbly smile. I threaded my fingers through his hair and peppered his face with kisses.

  “YES! Yes, yes, yes! Of course I’ll marry you!”

  He cupped my jaw with one hand and pressed a chaste kiss to my lips. “It’s not official yet,” he whispered, sliding the ring onto my finger. “Much better. It’s a perfect fit.”

  I sucked in a breath and stared at my hand. “Oh, my God, Ian. This is too much.”

  “Do you like it?” His fingers grazed over mine, fiddling with the ring. “We can pick out one together if you’d prefer something else.”

  “No. It’s beautiful. I love it,” I replied. “You probably went a little crazy.”

  Kissing me on the forehead, he smiled and shook his head. “Personally, I would have gone bigger, but this was my grandmother’s.”

  Fresh tears sprung from my eyes. “This was your grandmother’s ring?”

  “Just the center stone. The original setting was damaged, so I had the jeweler replace the band and add the stones on either side.” Touched, my arms twined around his neck. He held me close as my body jerked with fresh sobs. “Hey, why are you crying?”

  “You gave me your grandmother’s diamond. I—,” I drew a shuddering breath. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “You don’t have to say anything. She would have loved you almost as much as I do.”

  I pulled away, a huge smile stretching across my face. “I can’t wait to tell Dad and Natalie.”

  “Your dad already knows,” he said, giving me a sheepish look. “At least, he knew I was going to propose.”

  “How does he know?”

  “I talked to him a couple weeks ago.” He grinned. “I just felt I needed to tell him.”

  My fingers returned to his hair. “You are a born romantic.”

  “Nope. I only plan to do this once, and I wanted to do it the right way.”

  “That’s a really good answer.” I pressed my lips to his once more. “I love you.”

  “I love you, baby.”

  We had seen more than our share of challenges in our short time together, but our relationship had endured. Having Ian to rely on—and relying on each other—made it all worthwhile.

  And we knew the best was yet to come.

  The End

  Acknowledgments

  First, I’d like to thank my husband for always indulging my dreams, no matter what they are or how ridiculous they seemed at the time.

  Kimberly Knight. Thank you for your invaluable advice and mentoring, your friendship, and hooking me up with your

  awesome editor. I love your books and hope one day to be sitting beside you at a book signing event.

  Jennifer Roberts-Hall. Words cannot express how much I appreciate all your hard work and input. I’m sure there were times you were ready to kick me to the curb with all my questions, but you stuck with me. I’m looking forward to continuing our partnership for many, many years to come.

  Allison Washam Cooley. We’ve come a long way from our initial bonding over Fifty Shades of Grey, eh? You are, without doubt, one of my best friends, and without you, I doubt I would have made the jump and brought Ian and Emmy to life.

  Janet Borel Dodds. You believed in this project when very few did, when it was just a pipe dream. Not to mention you have always been a great sounding board for ideas and provided valuable feedback when I needed to talk things out. Many thanks for being such a fantastic friend and for providing your buttocks for Exposure’s first cover. ;)

  Damon Carney. You were my alpha reader, and your input helped shape this story. Despite your “threats” to crush me, you were very supportive of this dream. I only hope that one day I write something you are able to star in!

  Patrick Whitham. Thank you, my dear friend, for providing the male perspective when I’ve been stuck and needed guidance for my characters. Our conversations have breathed life into my writing and given depth to my characters. There have been many times you’ve confirmed what I thought my hero’s behavior should be and corrected me when I was wrong. You will always be welcome on Tiki Island. ;)

  Bob Kautz. I feel special—I think mine was the first (only) romance novel you’ve read. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for your support and being my number one fan.

  To everyone else I haven’t named, thank you for your support and all the contributions you’ve made to this project. You are all important to me and I would be nowhere without you.

  Excerpt

  Fraudulent (Epiphany #2)

  Reed

  Heat. That was the first thing I noticed as I woke, followed soon after by the acrid taste in my mouth. My tongue was thick and heavy, and in desperate need of water. The pounding in my head was a jarring reminder of the previous night’s vodka. Memories came rushing back and I slowly opened my eyes to confirm what I already suspected—I wasn’t at home. Fuck.

  Sunlight spilled through the blinds, casting black lines across the room to land on my face and torso. I was too damn hot, so I pushed the sheet down to my lower abs and threw an arm across my face to block the insane brightness. Random sounds began to filter into my consciousness: the flush of the toilet, running water, the slight squeak of a door. The bed dipped to my left and I peeked under my arm to see the blonde I chatted up at Sambuca. I groaned to myself and closed my eyes again, wishing I could get a Mulligan.

  “Morning,” she purred.

  I mumbled something that passed for ‘good morning’ and hoped she didn’t expect me to call her by name. I wasn’t sure I could remember it, if I even knew it in the first place. About the only thing I did remember was the tight purple dress she’d been wearing that barely covered her ass or her amazing tits.

  She walked two fingers from my hip to my navel before slipping a finger just beneath the sheet to caress my stomach.

  “I was hoping you’d still be asleep so I could wake yo
u.”

  Her hand moved lower and brushed against the head of my dick, sending a shudder through me. The bed dipped again as she scooted closer and lowered the sheet to my thighs. I tried to tell myself to brush her off and get the hell out of there, but my dick had other plans, the traitorous bastard. The moment her fingers closed around my shaft, all thoughts of leaving evaporated. Once her lips slid over me, rational thought was out the door as well.

  She fell into a consistent rhythm and the sensation washed over me, reminding me exactly why I was there, why I left the club with her. Random images played through my mind in no discernible order, a mish-mosh of erotica that was either reality or just a figment of my alcohol-infused imagination. I also couldn’t rule out remnants of the last soft-core porno I saw on Cinemax. She drew me into the back of her throat, making all my muscles tense and my hips buck into the motion of her tongue gliding across my skin. An image surfaced, one in which she followed me to the men’s room. My ex was never brazen enough to try that, but this chick—damn. The memory was murky at first, but became more clear with each pump of her fist on my cock.

  The club was packed and I didn’t realize she was behind me until we were inside the bathroom. Luck must have been on our side because it was the only time all evening that it was completely empty. I was close to wasted and all I wanted was a few moments to clear my head. Turned out she had other plans. She pushed me into a stall and before I knew it, my dick was in her mouth and she was sucking me to the point of oblivion. About the time I was ready to blow she pulled back, rolled a condom over my dick, and begged me to fuck her. Who was I to say no? Fueled by drunken lust, I spun her around, pressed her face against the cold metal wall, and plunged inside her. Her dress was so short I didn’t have to bother lifting it out of the way. It’s really a wonder I was capable at the time, given how inebriated I was. All told, it only took a few minutes, then it was time to go, and we took an Uber to what I assumed was her place.

  My cock stiffened and balls tightened as the familiar tingling began at the base of my spine and radiated outward. I lowered my hands to her head, fisting her hair, tangling my fingers in strands still sticky from last night’s hair spray. My hips caught her rhythm and I tightened my grip as she increased her tempo, bringing me closer to the point of no return. Just when I thought I was about to come she backed off, edging me out and then starting again. She did that twice more, then gently bit down, just enough for the unexpected contrast in sensation. That did it. I released a shout and held her head in place as I came, until I gradually loosened my hold and she backed way, continuing to apply light suction until she reached the tip, then released me with an almost silent pop. I scrubbed my hands over my face while my lungs drew in air filled with the scent of her hair products and my heart rate returned to normal. As soon as the immediate need was sated, my thoughts returned to getting the hell out of there. I rolled to my right and slid from under the sheet. My balance wavered and I had to steady myself before leaning over to grab my clothes.

  “You’re not leaving, are you?” she asked, sounding somewhat disappointed.

  “Uh,” I groaned. “Yeah, sorry. I’ve got some shit to do.” It was lame, but the best I could come up with due to my scrambled thoughts. I pulled on my boxers and pants before I stood, then slid them into place at the same time. “What’s your address? I need to order an Uber.”

  “I can drive you,” she offered, sounding a bit too eager for my taste. Wasn’t going there. The last thing I needed was some random chick knowing where I lived.

  “Oh, it’s cool. Thanks, though,” I muttered, dragging my shirt over my head.

  I jammed my shoes on my feet and turned to face her. She was quite pretty, with a heart-shaped face and round doe eyes, but there was something cheap and a little desperate about her at the same time. I almost felt bad about the whole situation, but then I reminded myself that she had been a willing participant.

  “Hey, listen...” I started, struggling to remember her name.

  “Haylee.”

  Right. I kind of remembered that.

  “Haylee. I, uh, had fun last night, but it’s probably best we not do this again.”

  It was fucking awkward and I should have had my man card revoked for handling it like a pussy. I chalked it up to the monster hangover and primo blow job.

  “So, your address?”

  Nodding, she released an odd sound resembling a cross between a snort and a chuckle.

  “7001 Parkwood.”

  “Thanks.”

  I gave her a weak wave and fumbled with my phone as I walked through her apartment and let myself out. I didn’t truly relax until the first rays of unfiltered sun hit my face while I waited for my ride. It had been a little over a month since my world fell apart and I fell along with it, going completely off the rails. Pathetic. Maybe I should have had my man card revoked for that instead.

  Hot water beat down upon me, rinsing the soap from my body and remaining fuzziness from my head, leaving behind a dull ache that was annoying but tolerable. I leaned against the cool tile and rested my forehead on my folded arm, watching the water swirl down the drain, taking my questionable decisions with it. My breath left in a heavy sigh, sending a mist of water toward the wall.

  How the hell did I get here?

  I jumped at the sound of my voice, surprised that I actually said it aloud. Maybe my head wasn’t as clear as I thought. Nevertheless, that was the one question that kept repeating, the one I couldn’t seem to answer. It was a puzzle I couldn’t solve, no matter how many memories I sifted through looking for signs that should have warned me of trouble. Some clue as to what was to come. I came up with nothing.

  Betrayal was a funny thing. Those of us who would never consider being disloyal had difficulty comprehending that someone else could. Until the moment I caught my girlfriend in bed—my bed—with my best friend, I never would have expected it of either of them. That may sound naive, but I always believed their loyalty at least matched my own. The fact it didn’t felt like a fresh punch in the gut every time I thought about it. Tori’s actions hurt, but it was more an injury to my pride than anything else. I guess I always knew Tori wasn’t ‘the one’ for me, so maybe that’s why. The real hurt came from Dylan, someone who’d been like a brother to me. Even with all the ups and downs we’d had in the past, even though he consistently had issues with substance abuse, never once did he ever make me think he would—or could—do that to me. Our bond always felt deeper than friendship, maybe even deeper than family, if that were possible. That bond was most likely the reason I didn’t beat the shit out of him at the time. Well, that and the fact I was in shock.

  The water ran cold and I heaved one last sigh before flipping the lever to the off position. I squeezed the excess water from my hair and grabbed a towel, feeling more human than I did before my shower. As soon as I was dressed, I grabbed my phone and went in search of my next distraction. A little ‘hair of the dog’ wouldn’t hurt, either.

  It was almost two by the time I parked in front of the bright yellow and blue building that housed the Blue Goose. A few small clusters of people were scattered around the patio area, enjoying the mild day from beneath cheery yellow umbrellas. I felt a stab of jealousy at how utterly normal their lives appeared while mine was so monumentally fucked.

  A blast of cold air hit me as I stepped through the doors and immediately headed to the deserted bar. I grabbed a stool at the far end so I’d have a good view of the ball games on each of the televisions mounted in the area. As I slid onto the black vinyl seat I flipped my sunglasses on top of my head and rested my cell phone face down on the bar’s dull surface. The bartender, a cute brunette named Brittini with tattoos and a nice rack, was busying herself stashing glasses and beer mugs in the cooler. She looked over and flashed a brilliant smile with lots of teeth, her bottom lip almost forming a rectangle with the gesture.

  “Hey, Reed,” she grinned, wiping her hands on a towel as she walked toward me. “What’s kic
kin’ chicken?”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. I also couldn’t help the x-rated thoughts filling my head as I remembered how her lips looked wrapped around my cock.

  “You’re goofy, you know that, right?” I chuckled.

  “Aw,” she whined, drawing her luscious lips into a pout. “You’re supposed to say, ‘socks on a rooster, Buckwheat.’”

  “And just how would I know that?” I laughed.

  Shrugging her shoulders, she giggled and placed a cocktail napkin in front of me, immediately sprinkling salt over it.

  “You mean you can’t read my mind?”

  “Sorry. No. Women remain one of the great mysteries in my life.”

  “Tall or short today?” she asked, turning to reach for a chilled glass.

  “Better make it a tall.”

  She nodded, then stepped to the tap.

  “You know,” she began, glancing at me briefly before returning her attention to my beer. “Women really aren’t that difficult to understand.”

  “No?”

  “Nope,” she smiled, setting the glass on the salted napkin. A small glob of the foamy head spilled over the rim and slid down the frosted glass. “Want me to tell you the secret?”

  I had a feeling I was walking into a trap, but she was too damn cute to brush off.

  “Tell me.”

  She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the bar and her chin on her folded hands.

  “Listen when we talk, tell us we’re beautiful, and if all else fails ... chocolate.”

  I knew it. I grabbed a few napkins from a nearby stack, wadded them into a ball, and tossed them at her face. Laughing, she batted them away, pleased with herself.

  “I take it back. You’re not goofy—you’re a smart-ass.”