Dreaming of a Hero (Heroes Series Book 2)

by Lyssa Layne

  “I—I’m sorry, Evan, I—”

  “Do you mean it?” I keep my eyes trained on hers, taking in her every movement.

  Her head moves up and down. “I’ve known I have for a long time.” Her hands anxiously rub my thighs and my manhood jumps. Sliding them higher, she guides me to my back and reaches into the nightstand for a condom. Slowly, painstakingly slow, she sheaths my ever growing erection, taking turns guiding the rubber on with her tongue and her fingers.

  “Damn, Cami, you’re going to have me come before you even get this thing on.” Seriously, I can already feel my cock pulsing, ready to explode. My comment doesn’t speed her up, instead she slows even more. Grabbing her by the arms, I easily lift her up and position her so that the head of my erection is ready to enter. Camila flips her long, dark hair and smiles at me.

  Now it’s my turn. Gradually, I lower her onto me, her fingernails digging into my thigh, only causing me to want her even more. Once I’m fully inside, I hold her on me, letting her get used to my girth. She closes her eyes, moaning low and purring like the sex kitten that she is. My hands wander across her torso, memorizing each freckle and every detail of her perfectly natural breasts.

  When she opens her eyes, I move my hand to her cheek and a grin takes over her face, causing me to do the same. She leans forward, twisting me inside her and I groan. Her hips swivel side to side and without notice, she switches up directions and I cry out in pleasure. She squeezes my manhood, milking it for everything it has and I let loose. My hand slips between her legs, rubbing her hot spot until she experiences the same ecstasy. Falling forward, I hold her as close as possible, wishing she could be even closer.

  My mouth in her hair, I softly whisper, “I love you, Camila Lemos.”

  I feel her lips curve against my chest and she mumbles, “I love you more.”

  Laughing, I shake my head. She can claim that she loves me more, but this woman is my world. She’s my brother’s past, both of our present, and she’s my future. The only woman in my future is Camila Lemos.

  EPILOGUE

  Camila

  The Trans-Siberian Orchestra plays overhead while I put the finishing touches on the codfish that’s baking in the oven. Humming with the music, I smile as I set the table for four. Evan’s apartment is decked out with red ribbon, silver tinsel, twinkling lights, and everything else that defines Christmas. The only thing missing is a Christmas tree which should be delivered any minute.

  The timer on the stove beeps, letting me know that the panettone is ready. When I open the oven, the sweet chocolate scent hits the air and I inhale deeply, savoring the smell and excited for the traditional Brazilian Christmas Eve feast I’ve prepared. I set the cake on the counter and grin. Finally, I can have my cake and eat it too. No more hiding from relationships for fear of what the public eye will think. I love Evan Purser and I’m going to let everyone know.

  There’s a dainty knock on the front door and I go to see who it is, already knowing it has to be Molly. I don’t think Evan or Blake could knock that lightly if they tried. Swinging open the door, Blake’s girlfriend greets me, handing me a bottle of wine with a kiss on the cheek.

  “Mmm, what is that? It smells delicious!” Molly asks, shrugging out of her grey wool peacoat.

  I take it from her and hang it up, listing off the menu. The second we hit the kitchen, she’s dipping her finger in the bowl and sampling the passionfruit mousse. Licking her finger, she looks at me with big eyes.

  “Sorry,” she mumbles around her hand.

  I laugh and toss her a towel. “Guess you’re hungry?”

  She stares at the terry cloth in her hand. “Well, I am eating for two.”

  The bowl in my hand slips and the chocolate dessert flies in every direction. “What?!”

  Molly nods, still a little apprehensive. “Blake doesn’t know, please don’t say anything.”

  Leaning over, I pull her into a hug. “That’s great, Moll! And don’t worry, I won’t say a word.”

  She returns the embrace, squeezing me tightly and hanging on just a second longer. Her actions make me wonder what else is going on, but I don’t have the chance to ask when the front door flings open. Blake maneuvers the evergreen carefully while Evan brings up the rear. He’s still recovering from his knee surgery so it’s nice that Evan gave him the light end. While this season is out, we’re all crossing our fingers he’ll be back for the next. Both the Pursers have started attending Alcoholics Anonymous meetings which will hopefully help them both extend their careers even longer without booze in the picture.

  “Wow! The tree is beautiful,” I comment, following them into the living room where they place the tree in its designated spot.

  The tree in place, Evan turns and kisses my cheek. “Nothing’s as beautiful as you, Cami.”

  My stomach flips at his compliment. With a wink, I excuse myself to finish dinner while the guys straighten out the tree so we can decorate it after our meal. I pull the turkey out of the oven and yell for one of the guys to come cut it. Blake appears, his cheeks rosy from the cold air.

  Handing him the electric knife, I comment, “Can you believe this is our first Christmas with other people around?”

  Blake laughs. “Yeah, crazy we found two people who could love us, huh?”

  I hug him from behind as he works on the turkey. “Nah, I’m more surprised that both of us let our guard down long enough to let them love us.”

  Blake pats my hand. “Good point.”

  I begin to set the food on the table while I watch Blake, trying to picture him as a father. “Things going well with Molly?”

  Carrying the turkey to the table, Blake shrugs. “Pretty good. I love having more free time to spend with her, but nothing’s changed. We still have to hide our relationship because of her father. Is it bad I almost wish this injury would’ve taken me out of the game for good so I could just be with her?”

  “Is it bad that you’re willing to sacrifice for love? Absolutely not.” My sacrifice walks into the room. Evan slips his arms around my waist and his lips skim over my neck. In the past month, we finally went public with our relationship. Technically, he’s not my client anymore, but that hasn’t stopped the other agents in the field from giving me plenty of grief. If I had to do it again, no questions asked, I’d give up everything for Evan.

  Evan lifts his head and sniffs the air, making an unpleasant face. “What are you cooking?”

  I laugh and step away from him. “It’s a mix of my Brazilian heritage and your traditional American Christmas meal. I’m serving turkey with dressing and gravy, codfish, potato salad, steamed veggies, and plenty of desserts.”

  Evan’s nose crinkles and it’s obvious he’s not thrilled with the menu, but he kisses my cheek. “Sounds, uh… great.”

  Shaking my head, I point to the stove. “And your mother’s macaroni and cheese.”

  Blake and Evan fist bump with a small cheer and I roll my eyes. Boys will be boys and nothing will be better than mom’s home cooking. The four of us sit down to enjoy our meal then move to the living room to trim the tree. One side of the tree decorated, we begin to discuss Christmas traditions.

  “When we have kids, we’ll let them help decorate while we bake cookies and sing Christmas carols,” Molly says in a dreamy voice as she admires the homemade ornament one of the Purser brothers made in elementary school.

  Blake shakes his head, reaching to place an ornament high on the tree. “No way! Santa brings the tree on Christmas Eve so when the kids wake up, they’ll be surprised.”

  Molly looks up at Blake, her hands on her hips. “That’s ridiculous! Why would you only put a tree up for one day?”

  “It’s the magic of Santa, Moll. Chill, trust me, it’s awesome. That’s what our mom always did.”

  “No disrespect to your mother, but we’re not doing that. I want to be able to enjoy the tree for the entire month.”

  “Fine then we just won’t have kids,” Blake states, picking up anothe
r ornament.

  I turn to Molly who has tears in her eyes. When I reach out to put my arm around her, she shrugs me off.

  “Fine then let’s not even be together,” Molly says stubbornly, grabbing her purse and coat and walking toward the door.

  Both Blake and Evan stand in shock while I chase after her, but she refuses to speak to me and slams the door as she walks out. When I turn around, Blake is standing behind me.

  “GO!” I open the door pointing and he grabs his coat, following her.

  I close the door, leaning against it and closing my eyes. Blake better get his shit together before this baby comes. Likewise, Molly better drop the dramatics or it’s going to be a long nine months.

  A pair of thick hands are on my waist and when I open my eyes, Evan is shaking his head. “What the hell just happened?” he asks with a laugh.

  “Don’t ask,” I mumble, leaning up and kissing him softly. “Just promise me that we won’t do that.”

  Evan returns the kiss, but pulls away to ask, “Do what? Have kids or you run out on me like a crazy woman because we don’t agree on something?”

  I laugh and wrap my arms around Evan’s neck. He easily lifts me up, my legs latching behind his back. “We are not having that conversation right now,” I inform him, ending the debate that hasn’t even started.

  “Fair enough.” His lips are all over me as he walks us back to the living room. He dims the lights and the room is only lit up by the twinkle of the white Christmas lights. Gently, he lays me down on the rug in the center of the room.

  “Can I get my Christmas present now?” he asks, his lips turned downward slightly as he pouts.

  He tugs at my blouse, pulling it over my head. I sit up and unbuckle his belt, sliding the zipper down on his jeans. Glancing up at this linebacker above me, I grin. “Baby, you can take your present any time you want.”

  Evan’s face lights up and he cups my cheek with one hand, the other pulling on my hair firmly. His lips are powerful as he presses them against mine. My mouth parts, letting him in and our tongues begin to dance while my stomach burns deep with desire. The bulge in his pants is noticeable, but I take my time, rubbing my hand over his boxers. He moans into my mouth and I know he’s ready for his gift.

  “Merry Christmas, Evan,” I mumble against his lips, pulling my head away. I push his pants down and lower my head.

  Evan takes my face in his hands and forces me to look up. “I love you, Camila Lemos. You wanted to make me a better man and I want to be that for you, not the teams or the press, but for you. Promise me you’ll help me be the man you deserve.”

  His words only confirm that I want him more than ever in more ways than one. Blinking back the tears, I nod. “You’re more than that, Evan.” He was the man I never thought I wanted and now he’s the man I can’t live without.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  This was my first attempt at writing an alpha male and while I do love Evan, it was a struggle to write his story. Luckily, Camila guided me through the process and they got their happy ever after. Still, I needed reassurance that I’d hit the mark and while I didn’t sway all of them to fall in love with Evan, he still gained book boyfriend status from a few. So thank you Rachelle Ayala, Michele Shriver, K.S. Thomas, Rebecca Austin, and Dawn Brock for being the first to meet Evan.

  As always, this book wouldn’t have made it to publication without the wonderful Melissa Keir for her amazing formatting skills, Tami Adams of Magic of Books Promotions for your awesome proofreading, and the cover from Carey at Safari Heat and E.J. Kellan. To my lovers of Lyssa Layne, I would call you the best fans but you’ve all really turned into friends along the way so thank you for your continued love and support.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Lyssa Layne is first, and foremost, the proud momma to her precious daughter, AR. In addition to working full-time and being a mommy to AR, she is also an avid St. Louis Cardinals fan, a runner, blogger, and an infertility survivor.

  Having watched one too many medical dramas and being inspired by author Rachelle Ayala, who introduced her to the world of indie writing, Lyssa decided to try her hand at writing a romance story. Her attempt turned into the Burning Lovesick series. You can find Lyssa’s own interests throughout her stories although all stories are fictional.

  Contact Her

  Blog: http://www.authorlyssalayne.blogspot.com

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/lyssalayne

  Twitter: https://twitter.com/layne_lyssa

  Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/authorlyssalayn/

  Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Lyssa-Layne/e/B00KP1Y5BY

  Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8280977.Lyssa_Layne

  Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/c/lyssa-layne

  Destiny’s Child

  Deb Julienne

  Other Books by Deb Julienne

  The Twisted Sisters Club Series:

  Sex, Lies, and Beauty Aids

  Sex, Secrets, & Happily Ever Afters

  Love, Lies, & Alibis

  *

  Other books:

  A Splash of Romance (Prequel to the Bronco Boys)

  *

  Other box sets:

  The Ride of His Life in the Cowboys, Bulls, and Buckles box set

  Guilty Until Proven Innocent in the Holding a Hero box set

  All I Want For Christmas in the Lovin’ Christmas: Believe in the Season box set

  Just One Look in the Love Onboard! Cupid’s Caribbean Cruise box set

  *

  Bronco Boys Series:

  The Bronco Boys: Sterling in the Cowboy Country box set

  The Bronco Boys: Blake in the More Cowboy Country box set

  *

  Other books in the Bronco Boys Series:

  Dane

  Clayton

  Quinton

  Virgil

  Wyatt

  Logan

  Darcy

  Destiny’s Child

  Copyright © 2017 Deb Julienne

  All rights reserved.

  DEDICATION

  To children everywhere - A child is the most precious gift you can ever receive. Hold them close, protect them, and encourage them. Teach them to be strong and proud, and when they grow up they’ll have the inner strength to do ANYTHING…

  CHAPTER ONE

  “I see three men in your future.”

  Normally, the thought of three men in her life would have brought an amused smile to Cherie Michaels' face, but the fear swirling in Madame Zina's obsidian eyes startled her. Too unnerved to ask what the dark flicker in the old woman's eye meant, Cherie kept her mouth shut focusing on the fortune teller gazing into her crystal ball.

  Cherie studied the hunchbacked woman as she bent over her oracle. Madame Zina's raven hair was finely laced with strands of silver, tightly braided and coiled around her head like a crown.

  The music from the calliope just outside the tent droned in Cherie's ears. The sounds of children laughing screams coming from the roller coaster high above and loud music filtered through the heavy canvas.

  Cherie felt as if she were in the middle of a maniacal nightmare, waiting for some knife-wielding villain to come flying through the flap of the tent after her at any moment.

  Why was she sitting here, letting this woman spook her when she should be home going through my parents' personal effects? Her heart fell to her stomach at the thought of what awaited her at their house.

  Madame Zina pushed the crystal orb aside and reached across the round table for Cherie's hand. The old seer's cold weathered fingers skimmed the lines on Cherie's trembling palm. Her touch left a tingling sensation that radiated and vibrated warmth through her skin. Cherie shivered as a chill ran up her spine and the hair on the back of her neck bristled.

  This wasn't fun anymore. A sense of panic gripped her. Cherie pulled her hand away and held it to her chest as if that alone would dissipate the dizzying effect she experienced.

  She struggled to hold he
r head up straight, unable to look away from the pull of the fortune teller's dark eyes.

  Madame Zina returned her stare with an intensity so keen Cherie felt as if the old woman could peer into the depths of her soul.

  The woman shook her head as though she disapproved of what she saw. Madame Zina lowered her gaze and held her hand out, palm up, silently asking for Cherie's hand back. She complied like an obedient puppy, unable to refuse, curiosity winning over the fear of the unknown. She couldn't help wondering about the scowl on the medium's face as the reading continued.

  Madame Zina released Cherie's hand, then reached beneath the black lace encased table and withdrew a deck of brightly colored tarot cards. She shuffled the deck with practiced precision.

  Cherie held her breath as the old woman began to speak.

  “Select a coin.” Madame Zina gestured to a pewter saucer that held several silver coins. “Hold it tightly between your hands and concentrate on it. Feel the coin. Focus all your energy on it.”

  Remembering to breathe again, Cherie took one of the small coins from the dish and fingered the unusual disk.

  “Place the coin in my hand.” Although her voice carried the thick accent of her Romanian homeland, Cherie understood her and put the coin into Madame Zina's palm.

  The medium closed her eyes and clutched the coin in her hand.

  Cherie watched in fascination as she tried to figure out what the old woman was up to.

  Madame Zina laid the coin on the table and spoke again in a wispy voice. “Take a card and place it face-up on top of the coin.”

  Cherie flinched, clenching her hand into a tight fist. Her hand loomed over the cards before she relaxed her fingers and lowered them onto the cool deck. She waited a moment, debated on which card to draw then shifted her hand slightly to the right and pulled one out and slowly laid it on top of the coin.