by Sybil Bartel
I told him the truth. “It’d be easier.” My heart hurt every day for years over Summer. But Thomas? His smile? The smile he’d had since the very first time I’d met him? His was a healing smile, and I couldn’t imagine this world without him. In the two months we’d been together, he’d gifted me with his smile every single day.
Just like he was gifting it to me right now.
Brilliant and hopeful, his smile lit up his face. “Come on, beautiful, what do you say?” He took my hands in his and put them against his heart. “Have a baby with me.”
Stunned, I said nothing.
His smile held. “You love it here on the ranch. It’s a big house, darlin’. Let’s fill it. We’ve got everything we need, love, horses…” His smile turned vulnerable. “Each other.”
I spoke without thinking. “You’re asking me to have children with you before asking me to marry you?”
A cloud descended over his beautiful features. “I’ve asked, darlin’, repeatedly.”
My cheeks flushed. He had, a lot, but it was always while he was inside me or right after, and he wouldn’t ask so much as demand in his dominant voice, marry me. Every time he’d said it, he’d made my heart race and my stomach flutter, but I had to admit, I’d only taken him half seriously, because he’d never really asked. And Thomas always checked in with me. He had since the beginning. I loved that about him, but sometimes he was so very young, at heart, in his views on the world and its possibilities, his unjaded perspective despite everything he’d been through. Those were the times I felt old and hardened next to him. Those were the times I questioned whether or not I was selfishly robbing him of a better life.
He brushed my hair behind my ear because I wore it down all the time now. “I can hear you thinking. Talk to me.”
I used a line he’d used on me that night we first met. “How honest of an answer do you want?”
He winked like he remembered saying those exact words to me. “All the way honest.”
He did remember. I smiled. But then I sobered. “I can’t raise a child again that isn’t mine.”
His eyebrows drew together. “I’m not suggesting—”
“I know you mean have our own child. That’s not what I’m referring to. I…” I took a deep breath. I’d never spoken aloud about this. “I always felt like Summer wasn’t mine. Leo made sure I knew that.” I glanced at my hands still in Thomas’s. “He made sure to let me know he was glad a pregnancy never ruined my body… in any way.” I looked up, and Thomas’s expression had flipped to a controlled anger that was directed at my ex, but I pressed on. “Leo treated me like hired help. He never allowed me any authority over her, and he undermined me at every turn. It was impossible to be a parent in that situation, and I was too weak to stand up to him.”
His nostrils flared, and his voice came out low and tight. “You weren’t weak. He was manipulative. I will never treat you like that.”
I smiled. “I know you won’t.” God, I knew. “But I live with that anxiety and…” A moment of fear hit, old fears, ones that I knew were unfounded with him, but real nonetheless. Afraid of his reaction, not sure I should say what I had to say next, but knowing I couldn’t not say it, I pushed the words out. “I don’t want to have a child out of wedlock, but I swore to myself after the divorce I’d never get married again. I didn’t want to ever lose myself in someone else’s agenda.” My eyes welled. “I can’t allow that to happen to me again.” Fear and anxiety that he would reject me, or worse, minimize my concerns, pushed at my chest.
But Thomas didn’t do either.
He didn’t even placate.
He pulled me into his strong arms and did what he had done since the very first time he’d held me.
He understood me, and he accepted me.
Holding me, kissing my hair, stroking my back, he let me know it was okay to be me, to be who I was, fears and all. Then he whispered the most perfect words he could’ve said. “I’m sorry you went through all that.”
The tears slipped down my cheeks, but they weren’t full of sorrow. “Thank you,” I whispered through healing tears.
Pulling back to take my face in his hands that were rough from hard labor on the ranch, his brilliant blue-eyed gaze landed on me. “I don’t want anything in this life that you don’t want one hundred percent. I’ll never coerce you into anything or force you to make decisions because of my actions. I’m not gonna lie and say I don’t want children with you. I do. But not at the expense of you feeling like you’re gonna lose yourself in the process. I’ve already discovered I can live with a whole lot that life can dish out, but, sweetheart, I don’t want to live without you.”
“Thomas,” I whispered, as the emptiness inside me that I used to live with filled with a warmth so strong and freeing that I had no words. “I love you.”
“I love you too, sweetheart. And if you don’t want that piece of paper that says we’re official, then I’ll live with it.”
I thought I would feel relief at those words, but I didn’t, and suddenly, I knew why. It wasn’t marriage I was afraid of. It was being with the wrong man. Just like Thomas had said to me that night in the bar, the right man would always give me a reason to smile. And that’s what he had done every single day since we’d been together.
He gave me a reason to trust, he gave me a reason to love, and he gave me a reason to smile, all just by loving me and being himself.
I smiled. And I gave him the truth. “I’m wearing my favorite thing.”
Always ready to return my smile, the corner of his mouth tipped up with sexy mischief. “You’re not wearing anything, love, but I’ll bite.” He winked. “What’s your favorite thing to wear?”
“The smile you give me.”
His eyes softened, and the other side of his mouth tipped up as his voice turned quiet. “I love that, darlin’. I love that a whole lot.”
“I’m not afraid of an official piece of paper with you,” I whispered. “Or a baby.”
Without hesitation, he slid off the bed and took my hands in his as he landed on one knee.
My heart caught.
“I’ve loved you my whole damn life, Fallon. It was always you. Before I even knew what those words meant, my heart belonged to you. I’m asking, on bended knee, with all that I am and all that I have, will you be my wife?”
Tears of joy slid down my cheeks unrestrained.
I wasn’t the woman who was thirteen years older.
I wasn’t a former supermodel.
I wasn’t a guilt-burdened stepmother.
I was his.
And I was happy.
“Yes.” I smiled, my heart soaring. “I would be honored to be your wife.”
I surged.
My body, my heart, my mind. I didn’t know I could be this happy, or that this kind of completeness existed. Until this beautiful woman walked into my life, I’d felt like a damn island. Then she’d smiled and it became my very own designer drug.
I hadn’t stopped needing hits since.
I’d told her I didn’t mind not having that piece of paper that said she belonged to me, but I did. I fucking minded. I’d take her however she’d have me because I knew the truth of it now—I wasn’t just an island, I’d only been half a person without her.
She didn’t judge.
She didn’t pity me.
She simply, inexplicably, loved me.
Fuck, I loved her.
And I needed to be inside her.
My mouth landing on hers, I pushed her back on our bed as my knee shoved her legs wide. My cock hard again, I stroked the head through the heat of her sex that was still wet from me coming inside her not a half hour ago.
Desperate to be connected to her, I didn’t hesitate.
I drove into her.
She gasped, I groaned, and I took both sides of her face. As I stilled, our eyes locked.
“I don’t know a better feeling than this single moment.” My voice thick with emotion, I gave her the truest words I�
�d ever spoken. “You were made for me, Fallon Knight.”
Her eyes briefly fluttered shut as I pulsed deep inside her, but then she wrapped her small hands around my wrists and heard me exactly as I needed her to. “Knight?”
I pulled back then thrust hard. “Yes.” I wanted it all with her.
She opened her mouth to respond.
Thrusting harder, I didn’t give her any room to argue. “My name, my baby in you, my smile on your face every damn day. Non-negotiable.”
Cradling me with her hips, bringing her legs up around my waist to take me deeper, a smile, pure as a golden sunrise spread across her face. “Okay.”
Roaring with a completeness that was so damn profound, I didn’t hold back.
I thrust deep.
Then I gave her everything I had.
Grasping her face, devouring her mouth, stroking her clit, I drove into her until I took us both to the edge. Her tight, sweet cunt constricted around me, and I fucking let go.
My body jerked, her legs shook, and we both cried out.
Coming inside the woman of my dreams, I made her mine.
THANK YOU!
Thank you so much for reading RELENTLESS! If you are interested in leaving a review on any retail site, I would be so appreciative. Reviews mean the world to authors, and they are helpful beyond compare!
And make sure to check out the other books in the Alpha Bodyguard Series!
SCANDALOUS—Tank’s story
MERCILESS—Collins’s story
RECKLESS—Tyler’s story
RUTHLESS—Sawyer’s story
FEARLESS—Ty’s story
CALLOUS—Preston’s story
SHAMELESS—Shade’s story
Have you read the sexy Alpha Escort Series?
THRUST
ROUGH
GRIND
Have you read the Uncompromising Series?
TALON
NEIL
ANDRÉ
BENNETT
CALLAN
Turn the page for a preview of SHAMELESS, the next exciting book in the Alpha Bodyguard Series!
SHAMELESS
Bodyguard.
Shadow.
Warrior.
The Marines trained me to be a weapon. Tactical warfare was in my blood. I didn’t think twice when I was deployed for the fifth time because I was born battle ready. Then a mission went south and left me with a medical discharge.
Too many years downrange, I didn’t fit in the civilian world. Taking a job with the best security firm in the business seemed like a solid plan… until I was assigned babysitting duty for a spoiled little rich girl. The only thing worse than the assignment was the client’s mouth. She thought she could run it—all over me—and not suffer the consequences. She was wrong.
Now she was about to find out how shameless a bodyguard could be.
SCANDALOUS
Bodyguard.
Babysitter.
Chauffeur.
Not what the hell I thought I’d be doing with my life.
Especially not for a spoiled Hollywood actress on location in Miami Beach. But triple pay and carrying a gun had its advantages. I’d shove away paparazzi and screaming fans for a lot less. The Marines trained me to be Force Recon—intimidation and crowd control was child’s play compared to four tours. This assignment should’ve been easy money.
But the doe-eyed starlet with the perfect ass dragged me down her rabbit hole. Living for the spotlight, she leaked the perfect scandal. I warned her making headlines wasn’t in my job description, but she kept smiling for the cameras.
Now she was going to find out just how scandalous a bodyguard could be.
MERCILESS
Bodyguard.
Mercenary.
Gun for hire.
I didn’t care what you called it, the end result was always the same.
You paid me for a job, you got results. The Marines trained me to shoot, but life taught me to aim. Working for the best personal security firm in the business was a stepping stone. Put in my time, build the résumé, then move on. I didn’t do attachments on any level.
Until a smoking-hot former one-night stand crossed the street in front of me, holding hands with a kid who was my spitting image. She tried to play it off, deny he was mine. She said she didn’t remember me, right before she picked her kid up and ran. She thought she’d made a clean escape.
But she was about to find out how merciless a bodyguard could be.
RECKLESS
Bodyguard.
Escort.
Bad boy.
I didn’t come from the wrong side of the tracks. I was the wrong side. Every cliché you could think of, my family embraced. The only advantage I had was being the best-looking out of all my brothers. Except when I joined the Marines, looks didn’t count for shit downrange.
I wasn’t active duty anymore, and working for the best personal security firm in the business, my looks were getting me in more trouble than they were worth. I just didn’t realize how much trouble until a princess from a country I’d never heard of asked for me by name. Her request was simple—me, my gun, and an art opening. But she recklessly failed to mention one crucial part of the assignment… pretend to be her new fiancé.
Now she was about to find out how reckless a bodyguard could be.
RUTHLESS
Bodyguard.
Protector.
Security Detail.
I wasn’t supposed to join the Marines and serve three tours. I’d been groomed to be another kind of warrior. Since I could walk, I’d been primed to take over the family business. Build the real estate empire bigger, ruthlessly fight my way to the top—make everyone richer.
Instead, I’d enlisted. Wanting to protect my country, not a bank account, I’d turned my back on the family business and given the Marines eight years. Now I was a bodyguard for the best personal security firm in the business, and life was perfectly uncomplicated… until an innocent redhead smiled at me and destroyed everything.
Now she was about to find out how ruthless a bodyguard could be.
FEARLESS
Bodyguard.
Sniper.
Morally corrupt.
I didn’t care who I aimed at. You paid me, I pulled the trigger. I sold my skills to the highest bidder, and trust me, I had skills. The Marines trained me to aim a sniper rifle, but life taught me to get the job done—at any expense.
Except hostage recovery wasn’t on my short list. I didn’t care that the personal security firm that’d hired me was paying double to get some rich businessman’s daughter back without casualties. I didn’t negotiate with terrorists. Ever. I had my own plan. Take out anyone in my sights, recover the hostage, and get out. But then I laid eyes on the half-naked, bleeding brunette, and I changed my mind. I was gonna do a lot more than simply pull the trigger.
Now they were going to find out how fearless a bodyguard could be.
CALLOUS
Bodyguard.
Tracker.
Silent observer.
Life was in the details. The weight of a government-issued rifle, the trajectory of a bullet, the speed of the wind—those details were crucial in the Marines. But outside the military, that level of observation was currency, and I was selling my skills to the best security firm in south Florida.
Except I wasn’t on a job when I noticed the nervous brunette pushing through the crowd. Her hair loose, her shirt borrowed, she stumbled in too-big shoes before looking over her shoulder. I didn’t follow her glance. I didn’t have to. I’d already spotted the muscle after her. The question was if I was going to do anything about it. Before I could decide, her pursuer took aim. It was the wrong move.
Now everyone was going to find out how callous a bodyguard could be.
For all of the men and women in our Armed Forces, thank you for your dedication, your sacrifice, and your service. You have my deepest gratitude.
To my son, I love you more than words.
XOXO
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br /> —Sybil
Sybil grew up in northern California with her head in a book and her feet in the sand. She used to dream of becoming a painter but the heady scent of libraries with their shelves full of books drew her into the world of storytelling.
Sybil now resides in southern Florida, and while she doesn’t get to read as much as she likes, she still buries her toes in the sand. If she’s not writing or fighting to contain the banana plantation in her backyard, you can find her spending time with her family, and a mischievous miniature boxer.
But seriously?
Here are ten things you really want to know about Sybil.
She grew up a faculty brat. She can swear like a sailor. She loves men in uniform. She hates being told what to do. She can do your taxes (but don’t ask). The Bird Market in Hong Kong freaked her out. Her favorite word is desperate, or dirty, or both, she can’t choose. She has a thing for muscle cars. But never rely on her for driving directions, ever. And she has a new book boyfriend every week.