by T L Osborn
Tag: You’re Mine
T.L. Osborn
Contents
Prologue
1. James
2. Riley
3. Riley
4. Riley
5. Riley
6. Riley
7. James
8. Riley
9. Riley
10. James
11. Riley
12. James
13. Riley
14. Riley
15. Riley
16. James
17. Riley
18. James
19. James
20. James
21. Riley
22. James
23. Riley
24. James
25. James
26. Riley
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Other Titles by T.L. Osborn
Tag: You’re Mine
T. L. Osborn
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to characters, places, events are used fictitiously. Any other names, places, events are of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to living people is purely coincidental.
All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without the express permission from the Author. All songs, song lyrics, and titles are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.
Cover Design: Gray Global Creations
Cover Model & Photographer: David Wills
Editing: Swish Design & Editing
Formatting: Carey Decevito
ISBN 13 - 978-0-473-46492-9
Copyright © 2018 T.L. Osborn.
All rights reserved.
For Nikita.
My angel sister, forever loved.
Prologue
James
10 Years Ago
I arrive home early from my business trip to Christchurch to surprise Ashley, my fiancée. The trip went better than expected; turns out the company I bought out was pleased with my strategy, which led to my proposed settlement offer. They accepted right on the spot. I can’t wait to celebrate my victory, and the woman I want to do that with is at home.
I park the car in the garage, grabbing my bags, and make my way inside. Dumping my belongings in the hallway, deciding to unpack them later, I find myself in a rush to hug and kiss Ash. Things have been tense between us lately; we were arguing a lot more than normal, and I’m worried we’re losing our spark. I assume it’s because I’m tired from working too much, but I have goals I want to achieve; and more than that, I want to give Ash the best.
I had made a decision, while I was away, that I need to do something about this problem of ours, and after some soul searching, I know just how to do it. After having stopped at the supermarket on the way home, I found myself practising my speech.
How much I love her.
How sorry I am for not being around as much.
I’m determined to make things up to her; after all, we are going to be man and wife. I don’t like secrets in a relationship, let alone the idea of them in a marriage.
Couples talk things through, right?
I walk through the house, place the bottle of wine on the table, and as I turn to grab some glasses from the cupboard, something catches my eye. A rectangular, black and white piece of paper. Picking it up, I graze my thumb over the surface as I read. At the top is Ashley’s surname and a date. I’m confused to say the least.
The photo was taken five days ago, the same day I left for Christchurch.
I glance at another date that reads, 8w+6.
What the fuck does that mean?
I cast my eyes back to the blob beneath my thumb, and it hits me like a bus.
I’m staring at a baby.
Our baby.
I’m going to be a dad, and I can’t believe it despite seeing the proof in my hands.
First, my business trip is a complete success, and now my fiancée is pregnant. Life can’t get any better.
Then I heard Ashley’s unmistakable giggle. I grin. She must be hiding somewhere, waiting for me to find her little surprise. I follow the sound of her voice all the way to our bedroom. Pushing open the door, I receive yet another surprise, though this time not the good kind.
Ashley is sprawled out across our bed—only it isn’t another man with her, it’s her best friend, Tiffany. Tiffany’s hands are linked across Ashley’s stomach as Ashley writhes in pleasure.
“What the fuck!” I roar into the room.
“James!” Ashley gasps in surprise as her eyes fly open to stare straight at me.
I look at her in shock while my heart disintegrates.
“It’s not what it looks like,” Ashley exclaims hurriedly, trying to dress herself.
I blink a couple of times, say nothing, then close the door. There’s a torrent of emotions rushing through me like a tornado: betrayal, dread, panic.
On entering the kitchen, I pour myself a whiskey and sit down. I take a sip, allowing the brown liquid to burn my throat, and hopefully numb my reeling emotions.
I can’t believe it.
My fiancée—and the mother of our child—is fucking her best friend behind my back.
I glance up from my glass and see the unopened wine bottle—my idea of a peace offering. Grabbing the bottle, I throw it across the room. The glass smashes against a wall, wine running down the paintwork like blood after a murder.
My heart pumps furiously within the walls of my chest, my pulse racing.
How the fuck can she do this to me?
Chapter One
James
Present Day
The sun beats down on my back, blistering my skin as sweat pours off me. I’m running around Evans Bay to my apartment on Oriental Bay. I’d bought the penthouse overlooking the harbour about six months ago, after selling my home in Upper Hutt, and I’ve been settling in ever since. It doesn’t really feel like home, and I’m unsure why. I’ve tried adding artwork to the walls, changing my furniture around, but nothing makes it feel like my sanctuary. It’s basically somewhere to sleep.
My feet pound the pavement, leg muscles aching as I inhale and exhale, filling my lungs deeply. I should be at my place, going through the list of tasks Simon gave me to complete over the weekend. He’s going to be pissed off when he finds out I haven’t done a single one, and he needs everything on his desk by 8:00 am tomorrow morning. Glancing at my watch, I notice it’s just past 10:00 am; I’ve got plenty of time to get the stuff done.
Turning the corner, I swerve around a young family taking their baby out for a walk. They seem happy, laughing along together as they walk. The young couple eating ice cream together. My heart aches a little for the dream that I once thought I’d have, until my ex-fiancée tore it to shreds and made me the cold man of stone I am today. At thirty-six, I thought I’d be married and have kids. Yeah, plural. I’d wanted to be a dad one day, but now I’ve given up on that dream totally. Instead, I’ve devoted more time to my four-year-old niece, Charlotte.
Shaking the couple from my thoughts, I continue with my run, deciding to stop along the route to marvel at the view that’s my new home city. I lean on the concrete wall breathing deeply as I gaze over the harbour. The smell of the sea is invigorating.
Suddenly, I feel like someone’s watching me. Turning my head to the left, I lock eyes with a gorgeous brunette. Her long, dark hair is tied into braids down either side of her head; her chocolate brown eyes are quite obviously eye-fucking me. She lightly licks her red lips as her gaze rakes down my torso, her eyes moving further, until they linger on my groin.
Yeah, she likes what she sees.
Then again, I haven’t found many women that haven’t.
I admit to being flattered by her staring at me. I mimic her actions, and gaze down her body. The tight, light blue tank top hugs her body in all the right places, giving me a very nice peek at those perky, perfect breasts. She’s wearing the shortest jean shorts I’ve ever seen, and I absolutely love the way the buttery coloured fabric curves with the bend of her ass while she leans against the wall of the beach. Her legs are long and lean. I’d love to have them wrapped around me while I pleasure her beyond her wildest dreams. I flick my gaze back up to her face—a pink tinge crosses her cheeks, then runs down her chest as she averts her eyes.
Ha! Caught checking me out.
I grin. I think I’ll give her a proper show. Pushing off the wall, I run slowly past her, making sure to puff out my chest and flex my arms up as I go. Passing by her, I gently run my arm along her back just enough so she can feel my presence. I look back over my shoulder, and I swear I watch her mouth the word ‘damn’ as she looks at my ass. I grin wider, then turn my head around.
Oomph!
I crush my right hand between my body and a rock solid tree.
Ouch!
Fuck, that hurt.
My hand throbs, my fingers are scraped and bleeding.
Damn!
I should have run straight to my apartment instead of trying to impress some hot chick.
Riley
Mr Tall, Dark and Gorgeous grins at me over his shoulder, and I’m about to yell out for him to watch out for the tree, but it’s too late; he runs straight into it.
Whoops! I let out a snort of laughter. I shouldn’t laugh, he might be hurt and it’s my fault. Still, he should’ve been watching where he was going instead of showing off.
I’d come to the beach to clear my mind after spending this morning staring at a blank laptop screen, hoping by some miracle that the words for my latest book would start flowing, but it wasn’t meant to be. I’m no further along today than I was six months ago, and my readers are hounding me for excerpts and teasers.
I’d stood at the concrete wall that cordons off the beach for quite a while, and let the sunshine warm me as I’d taken some photographs of the scenery. When I see him running towards me. Even from a distance I can tell the man works out—a lot. His body’s ripped. The closer he gets, the better the view I receive, and I like what I see.
He’s wearing a red singlet, tightly fitted around his body, giving me a glimpse of the firm muscles that lay beneath the fabric. I wish he’d simply take it off and give me the full picture. I bet he’s muscle all over, with lickable abs all the way down to his dick. I wonder if it matches the rest of his body or if he’s compensating for something smaller down there.
He must have the goods to match the rest of his body.
I lick my lips, not believing he’s real or running towards me. It’s like he’s stepped directly off the runway or out of one of my romance books. He’s the guy I write about—you know the type—strong, sexy, nice body, arrogant, has an ego, oh, and did I mention is well endowed?
He’s not the sort of man I actually meet.
He stops right beside me, leaning against the brick wall surveying the scenery like I am while stretching his legs. What a pair of legs they are—long, lean, bulky and made for sex. The kind a girl fantasises would hold her up against the wall while he gave her a good time.
God, I bet he’s a beast between the sheets.
He looks like he could go for hours and never get tired.
My heart hammers within my chest as my imagination runs wild with all the thoughts of the dirty things I’d like him to do to me.
Why the hell am I thinking about him and sex?
Probably because it’s been a while since I had a guy rock my world in the bedroom, and staring at him has awakened my dormant sex drive from its hiatus. I haven’t even been able to use my battery operated boyfriend in a while either. I simply thought I’m never meant to have sex again. Let’s face it though, I’ll never find out what he’s like between the sheets. Men like him most certainly do not fall for women like me.
I glance up his body, and right to his handsome face, our eyes interlocking. My heart beats faster when I notice his eyes are full of animalistic lust as a wicked grin crosses his mouth.
Is he thinking about the same thing I am?
My face flushes red and I avert my gaze. I’ve got to ignore this feeling before I do something foolish like talk to him.
I feel him move and graze past my back. Glancing around, I observe what his ass looks like.
Fuck me! He’s fucking sexy all over. I want to run after him like some crazy stalker and beg him to take me home and give me a good time.
Seems I might be dusting BOB off tonight after all.
A pang of guilt washes over me. I begin making my way towards him, noticing no one else has bothered to stop and see if he’s okay. I don’t know why I care so much, he’s a complete stranger to me. A handsome, sexy stranger. So, against my better judgement, I decide to make sure he’s okay.
“Are you all right?” I ask as I approach.
He whips around and shoots me a smile. “When did they put this tree here?” I suspect he’s using humour to hide his embarrassment. Though, I seem to be the only person who’s noticed.
I glance up. “I’d say about one hundred years ago.”
“Is it too late to say the tree jumped out and hit me?” He laughs.
I turn my head towards him. “Sadly, yes.”
“Damn.”
“Seriously though, are you all right?”
“I’m a big boy, I can look after myself.”
I bet you are. I lick my lips as I begin to think about his cock and whether he’s trying to tell me his dick is big.
“But you know, since this was your fault, I suppose you better make it up to me.”
I scoff. “I’m not kissing it better.”
He grins. “Damn, thought I could get a free kiss.”
“Wow! Is that your best pick-up line?”
“No, I have others. Normally, I would’ve kissed you and not asked, but since we’re in public and there’s children around, it could possibly be frowned upon.”
I feel my face blush. “So what do I owe you?”
“How about we head down to the café and you buy me an iced coffee?” he asks.
“Hang on a minute, my mother told me never to go anywhere with a stranger.” I eye him cautiously.
“Wise words. I’m James and you are?”
“Riley.”
“Lovely to meet you, Riley. See, we’re no longer strangers. Shall we get that drink?”
“Yes, please.”
We head off down the road to my favourite café along Oriental Bay. He opens the door for me to enter first.
“Thanks.”
“I just wanted another look at your ass,” he whispers in my ear. “So what are you going to get?”
“I was thinking an iced coffee too.”
He grins. “Great minds think alike.”
The girl behind the counter serves me next and I order, but before I can pay he’s whipping out a card and has beaten me to it.
“I thought I owed you?” I question as we shuffle along.
He shrugs. “I was kidding when I said it was your fault.”
We’re handed our iced coffees and make our way outside. I take a sip of my drink and glance over only to find him staring at me. His brown eyes are fixated on me as he sips his drink. I’m lost in his gaze as it softens. I’m not sure what he finds so fascinating.
I know I’m dreaming if I think this guy is going to be my Prince Charming.
“Want to find somewhere to sit and drink?” he asks, but before I can answer his cell phone starts to ring.
“Thanks for the offer, but that’s probably important. Enjoy your coffee and watch out for any more trees out to get you.”
He grins. “Those trees can be very dangerous.”
I turn and walk away only to find him staring over his shoulder at me; cell phone in one hand up to
his ear, and his iced coffee in the other with a wide grin on his face.
He turns around narrowly missing another tree and I shake my head.
What a klutz!
Suddenly, from out of nowhere, ideas are flooding my mind.
Maybe book four will be written after all.
James
Wincing and hoping Simon doesn’t notice, I slowly and painfully begin to write notes on the report he and I are currently discussing. I’d forgotten I bruised my hand yesterday when I showed up for my boxing session at the gym this morning; now my hand is twice as sore as it was. It’s a damn shame it’s my writing hand, though I am lucky I can jerk-off with both hands because the chick from yesterday will not get out of my head.
Simon huffs. “All right, what’s wrong? You’re writing slower than an old lady with arthritis.”
“Maybe this is my new writing style,” I quip, throwing him a grin.
“Bullshit.”
“All right, I crushed it between myself and a tree yesterday while I was out running.”
Simon arches his brows. “A tree? That’s the lamest excuse ever.”
“It’s true.”
He chuckles. “You can tell me its overuse, big brother. What’s it been, two nights since you last had sex? I bet you’re having withdrawal symptoms.”
“One night actually, and nope no withdrawal symptoms, just regret that I didn’t get the hot chick’s number.”
“What hot chick?” he asks.
“I saw a hot chick at the beach yesterday and well, she was H-O-T. Brunette, gorgeous complexion, kissable red lips, and when I looked into her innocent brown eyes they told me she was in desperate need of a good fucking. Her tits are a perfect handful and that ass… damn, I wanted to squeeze it. Her legs, man, they go on for days. I’d love to wrap them around me while I bang her into the middle of next week.”