by Nashoda Rose
He adjusted his hold on me as we walked down the path to the water. “Never needed a second chance.”
I laughed, rolling my eyes. “Sweetie, you needed a second chance. It was a dick move and you’re lucky I took you back. I’m just super understanding and forgiving. I’m thinking I need some payback for being such an amazing chick.”
The moonlight caught the glimmer of heated arrogance in his eyes, and I wiggled my pelvis into his waist.
“Second chances are for when you’re done with the first. I wasn’t done. I’ll never be done. I don’t need second chances, beautiful. Not with you. You’re my first chance. And fuck if I love my first chance.” He lowered to his knees on the grassy patch at the edge of the beach and had me flat on my back and my shirt ripped off before I could even come back with something. His first chance. His only chance. I reached up and cupped his cheek. “Ream?”
He finished taking his shirt off and tossed it somewhere behind me. “Yeah, baby?”
“I love our first chance too.” His eyes smoldered and I continued, “And I’d have given you as many chances as you needed.”
He groaned and then his mouth crushed mine and the weight of him came over me. My hands stroked, caressed, and touched every part of him as any control I had detonated into the evening air.
I clutched him to me, his cock pressed into my pelvis, his thighs straddling mine while his fierce kiss bruised my lips and took what I was more than willing to give.
“Please.” I slipped my hand between us and tried to undo his pants. Needing. Wanting. Desperate to ease the ache that Ream ignited in me. “I need it in me now.”
Ream pulled back, putting his palms on the grass on either side of my head. He stared at me for several seconds, and I breathed hard, feeling as if I would combust if he didn’t kiss me, or fuck me, or do something.
“You need me in you.”
“Yeah, that’s what I said.”
“No, you said it.”
I reached up, curled my fingers into his hair, and yanked down. His arms gave way to the pressure and he was full on top of me again. “Semantics.” I kissed him, my lips roaming over his, taking what was mine and knowing that whatever happened with me, that Ream would stand with me.
He’d been willing to sacrifice his life for mine. Just like he had for his sister, giving up his innocence in order to protect hers. I realized that when Ream loved, it was truly unconditional and it was what I needed all along. Him. His overprotectiveness. His determination. His understanding.
He rolled to the side, slid his pants off then ripped my panties and threw them over his shoulder. His finger slipped into my wetness and flicked across my clit.
My back arched. “Ream.”
He kissed every part of me, taking his time, his hands caressing while his tongue tasted and his mouth worshiped. I writhed and begged him to put his cock inside me before he even got to between my legs.
Ream licked the wetness and then suckled hard, then soft and gentle. My body was a roller coaster of emotions, teetering on the edge then coming down again as he eased off.
Abruptly, he shoved two fingers inside me, and I moaned at the pain-pleasure of the sudden intrusion. He moved in and out while his thumb circled up higher causing my legs to open farther and my muscles to tighten. I lifted my butt off the ground, wanting more. Needing more.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he said as his fingers continued to pump in and out of me while his other hand reached up and his finger stroked the side of my cheek where my scar was. It was a white line now and I could cover it up with makeup, but most of the time I didn’t. It was part of me. I accepted it, just like I did my MS. And I had the support of Ream and my friends. I’d never face this alone, and I knew then that I didn’t want to. Them knowing didn’t make me weak, it made me stronger than ever.
He pulled his fingers from me and grabbed his cock and slid it between my legs. I planted my feet hard into the ground and lifted up just as he placed his cock at my opening. It pushed inside hard and deep, and I moaned, closing my eyes.
“Anxious?” Ream pulled his hips back a bit, and he slid out then tilted his pelvis and sunk deep again.
“Love you, baby.” I curled my hand around his neck and brought his mouth to mine. That did it. Getting Ream to lose control took work, and I figured out what did it—sweetness. It won over my sass every time, so I used it to get what I needed. And what I needed was him fucking me.
He pushed into me hard, then slowly withdrew, and then shoved inside me again. Over and over until I panted and clenched at every part of him. He grabbed my thigh that I’d locked around his waist, fingers bruising my flesh as he thrust harder, faster, deeper.
“Oh God.” I closed my eyes, my nails digging into his tatted forearms just below the inked butterflies. “Please. Ream.”
“No. Wait,” he growled. His pelvis rocked into me again and again, and I met his every movement, our bodies slick and slapping into one another, the sound echoing across the still water. He stopped moving and grabbed my hands and put them above my head.
Our fingers interlocked—just like we were. Like we’d always be.
The broken lock with the damaged key now fit together. We’d opened one another up, and it was beautiful.
He started moving again and lowered his head and kissed me. It was gentle and sweet, but filled with so much meaning. I submitted more of myself to him. Gave him all of me.
He thrust faster.
“Now,” he murmured on my lips.
I let the feelings take me and my body succumbed to the climax and fell over the edge into a whirling tornado of ecstasy. Ream did several more hard thrusts, and then his mouth left mine. He tensed, his head back and jaw tight, eyes closed.
It took a few moments before Ream opened his eyes and met mine. Our hands were still locked and his cock still deep inside me. “No other. Ever.”
I wasn’t sure if he was saying that to me or telling me that I would have no other. It didn’t really matter. Either way there would never be another. Ream was it for me.
We sat on the end of the dock, the full moon hitting the water so it looked like sparkling diamonds scattered across the surface. I sat between his legs, our feet swirling in the water while his head nuzzled my neck and his arm held me tight against him.
“So are you ever going to tell me who owns this place?”
“Mhmm,” he murmured while his teeth nibbled the tip of my ear. “She’s this hot sexy girl that adores me. I didn’t tell you about her?”
“Ream,” I smacked his thigh and he grabbed my hand and curled our fingers together.
He chuckled. “Well, she may have been sexy fifty years ago. Remember I told you about Urma?”
“The old woman who let you and Haven stay in her shed?”
He nodded. “She died a number of years ago. She must have seen something to do with the band and recognized me because her lawyer contacted me after she passed away. Urma left the cottage to me and Haven. The neighbor next door, she keeps an eye on it for me. She also stocks it when I bring my kidnapped women here.” I laughed and he grinned. Ream may have called Haven his little angel, but it sounded like Urma had been both of theirs. “I came here after you were shot. I don’t know … it always had this calming effect on me. Like Urma did. This place feels like her, simple and warm … safe. Her … that shed … it was safe. Didn’t know her long, but she was like a mother, I guess. Like a mother should be. She cared.” He caressed the side of my face with his thumb. “But now I have you. You’re my safe, Kat.”
I linked our fingers together and then pulled his hand to my mouth and kissed each finger. “There’s nothing safe about me, Ream.” No, I still had a battle to fight, one that would last the rest of my life, however long that was. But I wasn’t alone. I didn’t have to fight it by myself, and that made it so much easier to accept.
Ream squeezed my hand. “Baby, you’re the safest place I’ve ever been. You’re the only place I’ll ever belong.”
He kissed my neck. “And you belong with me.”
***
This book is dedicated to all those suffering with Multiple Sclerosis. It is a complex disease that affects the CNS (Central Nervous System). It’s unpredictable and the symptoms can vary immensely with each individual. An estimated 100,000 people are affected by this disease in Canada alone and over 2.3 million worldwide. This disease is usually diagnosed between the ages of fifteen and forty, but children have also been affected by MS. Many people with MS can and do live a productive life.
There is no cure.
But there is support. No one has to be alone.
http://www.overcomingmultiplesclerosis.org/
http://mssociety.ca
http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/multiple-sclerosis/basics/definition/con-20026689
***
Hey you guys,
Thank you so much for reading “Overwhelmed by You.” I hope you enjoyed Kat and Ream’s story. If you wouldn’t mind helping me out and leaving a review on the site where you purchased Overwhelmed by You it would be much appreciated. Thank you!
All your support and love has been incredible. Truly, I’m floored. So many new friends. I love chatting with each of you. So please, come say hi on FB.
Cheers,
Nash xx
***
I wish I could name every individual I’ve had the pleasure to chat with on FB or through email or on GR. I wouldn’t be here without you. Your amazing support, kind words, comments and the incredible reviews you’ve take the time to write … I seriously can’t thank you enough. I love chatting with you and even though I haven’t met most of you personally, I feel like I’ve made some great friends.
To Sarah, my emergency beta reader and my punching bag. When I’m freaking out over something you calmly put everything back into perspective … thank you.
To my editors Kristin, the Romantic editor and Max, The Polished Pen … this book breathes because of you both.
Kari from Cover to Cover designs, thank you for putting up with my constant emails when we are working on a cover. You see my vision and always gave me a kick ass cover. Love you.
Stacey, my wonderful formatter and Debra, The Book Enthusiast Promotions—you both ‘bring it’ every single time!
My beta reader Paula—WOW. I hope you realize you belong to me now!
Melissa, my pre-beta reader and my go to girl when I have plot issues or just … issues, lol. Love you missy. To my rockin’ beta readers from SMI book club—Yaya…my personal stalker…and Midian, you girls saw things when I didn’t … Love you!
Tia, damn I’m so lucky to have found you. Your jewelry is stunning and I love that the characters can come to life with your pieces. You are a remarkable woman!
To the bloggers I consider friends: G&J Totally Booked; Jessica & Sarah Lovely Books; Kayla the Bibliophile and Sassy Sara. Thank you for all your love and support
To the amazing authors who I’ve had the pleasure to chat with and are truly stars with their words and their hearts…Penelope Ward, Pepper Winters, Nicola Hakin, Carmen Jenner, Lili St. Germain.
WOW…the bloggers. You girls are something else and I’m in awe of what you do. Thank you for your constant support, and for bringing books into the spotlight with your incredible devotion.
Elaine and Susan … damn, I’m so lucky to have met beautiful warm women like you both.
To everyone in the Torn from You Book Club and my admins Michelle, Sarah and Jessica. Each of you have made me laugh and brought so much enjoyment to this long process of making my book come alive—thank you.
And to my agent Mark Gottlieb at Trident Media Group, thank you for all your support and your confidence in me. I’m excited to make this new journey with you.
Of course, as always, to my furry friends who give me unconditional love even when I’m in my writing cave. And to my ever supportive family—I love you.
Hugs and kisses to each of you.
***
Nashoda Rose
Unyielding Series
“Perfect Chaos” (Unyielding #1) Georgie and Deck
“Perfect Ruin” (Unyielding #2) London and Kai
“Perfect ?” (Unyielding #3)
Tear Asunder Series (in no particular order)
“Untitled” (Tear Asunder #3) Crisis and Haven
“Untitled” (Tear Asunder #4)
Writing as Cindy Paterson (paranormal romance)
“Take” (Senses #4) Jasper and Max
Perfect Chaos (Unyielding #1)
by
Nashoda Rose
Prologue
I smoothed out the wrinkles on my bedspread then placed my stuffed brown bunny rabbit up against the white-and-pink flowered throw pillow. At sixteen, I was a little old for stuffed animals, but it had been a gift from my brother the first time he went away to Afghanistan with the military.
I straightened, then saw the sheet hanging down in the right corner and quickly tucked it back into the mattress. Perfect. I liked it … okay I was obsessed with being organized. Everything had its place, even me. I kept to the same bland colorless clothes, the same schedule, the same hair style. Why mess with what worked? My brother often teased me and said I should join the Canadian forces like him. I may like neat and tidy, but I hated fighting, blood, guns, and, unquestionably, any killing.
Connor knew that. He’d helped me bury my goldfish Goldie in the backyard when I was seven. Then the hamster Fiddlehead when I was ten. To this day there was a marked stone that Connor had made for him that was near the back fence. I could see it whenever I looked out the kitchen window.
I jerked as a car door slammed, which sounded as if it was in our driveway. The sun had just peaked over the horizon; it was too early for any visitors, plus it was Sunday and dad had the rule that he and mom sleep in. I always rose early wanting to get ahead of the day, another reason Connor said I’d excel in the military. Although, we both knew he’d never allow me anywhere near danger, which I was very content with. Danger to me was if my shampoo was missing and I had to use my brother’s instead.
Connor wasn’t due back for another month, that meant ... A sudden freeze hit my body, locking my limbs in place as I realized who might be in our driveway at six in the morning on a Sunday. My breath trapped in my throat as if clamped hands were strangling me.
No.
No. I shook my head back and forth. Please don’t knock.
It was the newspaper boy. Early. He was an hour early today. In a second, I’d hear the clang as the newspaper bundle hit the metal screen door.
Eyes squeezed tightly shut, I waited for the familiar sound.
Nothing. I sucked in large amounts of air for my starved lungs.
Not him. Please, not him.
Connor.
Connor.
My heart thumped harder and harder in its cage and tears pooled in my eyes. I couldn’t hear his footsteps, but I knew his black combat boots were walking up the stone path toward the house.
I can’t lose him. Please.
Run.
Run and it won’t be true.
But I couldn’t move. My legs were locked in place as I waited for the nightmare to begin.
The knock.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
It was as if each thump was a punch to the stomach. No air. I couldn’t breathe. I was silently screaming and nothing could stop the fear gripping my insides.
Please. No. I need him.
Silence.
I heard my parent’s bedroom door open and the shuffling of feet down the hallway on the hardwood floors. The distinct click as the lock turned and then the front door opened followed by the screech of the screen door.
Silence.
It felt like hours as I stood in the middle of my room, afraid to look out the window and see the car I didn’t want to see. Afraid to run. Afraid to move. Hoping I was still asleep and this was all a dream.
Yes, it was dream. I’d wake up
any second. I’d call him today. I’d tell him how much I missed him and loved him. It had been weeks since we last spoke. I should’ve emailed him more often. Why hadn’t I?
My mother’s loud wail pierced the air, and my perfect world crashed to my feet. It was like I was being coiled up in the death grip of an anaconda and dragged under the water.
I fell to my knees, my arms wrapped around myself, and I rocked back and forth as my mother’s cries became muffled as if she was being held up against something.
There were more footsteps. Not quiet and soft like my mom’s. Not slow and lumbering like my dad’s. Long, confident strides.
No. Go away. Just go away. It’s not real.
The steps stopped outside my door, and then I heard the click as my door handle turned. It was opening up my soul and ripping out my heart.
I stopped rocking.
The door swung open.
I clamped my eyes shut not wanting to see him. Unable to face him. Face what he was here to tell me.
“Georgie.”
His gruff tone I’d recognize anywhere. It scared me, always had. He scared me.
I sniffled as my nose dripped, and I felt the trickle of tears slip from the corners of my eyes.
“Look at me.” If I ignored him, it would all go away. “Georgie.”
It was the hint of softness in his voice when he said my name that had me open my eyes.
My gaze hit his legs first, the long, lean length covered in black cargo pants. There was a rip in the material just above his knee. Dirt. Smudges of dirt on his pants as if he’d come straight from whatever hell they’d been in.
They. In a second, the word they wouldn’t exist anymore.
My gaze moved upward, hesitant, as if I my brain was fighting every step. His hands were curled into fists at his sides, his knuckles strong notches that had felt the harshness of pounding into another man. It was odd because his hands were clean, and yet I saw the dirt on his tatted arms and the … blood? Was it his blood or—