Love, Honor & Protect- Addicted to You 1

by Jamilia Fair

  Love, Honor & Protect

  Addicted To You

  Part One

  A Novel by

  Jamilia Fair

  Copyright © 2017

  Published by Major Key Publishing

  www.majorkeypublishing.com

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  Any unauthorized reprint or use of the material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage without express permission by the publisher.

  This is an original work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Contains explicit language & adult themes suitable for ages 16+

  To submit a manuscript for our review, email us at submissions@majorkeypublishing.com

  Coming next from MAJOR KEY!

  Prologue

  Past

  "Jeremiah?" I look up to see the woman I love, and who I thought loved me back, standing at the end of the bed. Her eyes are wide as she stares at me in shock.

  "Who the hell are you?" the blonde next to me, whose name I've already forgotten, spit.

  I'm tempted to turn and snap at her, but I don't. I just watch Tabitha shift her gaze from the woman in my bed for a moment, then to me. "I'm his girlfriend?" She words it more like a question than a statement.

  "Girlfriend?" the blonde gasps. "You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend."

  "You never asked," I hiss.

  "What's… what is this? Why are you doing this?" Tabitha questions.

  I look at her, a glare etched on my face. “Why?" I throw the covers off me and stand up. I move past her, careful not to touch her, to grab my pants from the chair. “I thought that much would be obvious."

  "I don't know what you're talking about." Tabitha's brows furrow in confusion.

  I ignore her and turn to the angry blonde in my bed. "I'm hungry. Did you want anything?"

  "Jeremiah!" Tabitha shouts.

  I turn around to look at her. Her eyes are filled with tears and I must force myself not to cross the room and pull her into my arms. I can't. I won't. Not after what she did to us.

  "What?" I growl in frustration.

  She flinches at my harsh tone, then glares at me. "Would you please tell me what the hell is going on here because I'm beyond confused," she snaps as tears spill over. "Why would you do this to us?"

  "Me? Why would I do this to us?" I spit. My fists clench at my side as I stare into her tear stained face. "You did this to us, not me. You are the one who stepped out on our relationship. I was just returning the favor."

  "What the hell are you talking about? I never cheated on you." She cries breathlessly, taking a step forward.

  "I'll show you what the hell I'm talking about." I push past her, towards the bedside dresser, to grab the vanilla envelope. "Here. Explain this."

  I push the envelope into her waiting hands and move to stand directly in front of her. I want to see the look on her face when she realizes she's been caught.

  She stares at the envelope for a moment, then reaches inside. I literally watch the color drain from her face before they slip from her fingers. "Where did you get these?" Her voice is low and she drops her gaze to the pictures of her in our bed with another man, that now lay at our feet.

  "Does it matter?" I take a step back, afraid of what I might do if I stand any closer.

  When she lifts her gaze to meet mine, I struggle to get oxygen into my lungs. I’ve never seen her look so hurt before. Her stare is so intense I must lean against the bed frame for support.

  "Yes, it matters." I don't recognize her. Not her voice, the look in her eyes or the expression on her face. She looks like a whole new person.

  "Jessica. She delivered them to my office a few hours ago."

  "So, instead of coming to me, confronting me about it, you decide to go and pick up the first woman you see?" Her voice is frighteningly calm. "Well, uh, I guess that's it, right? You've already made your decision not to hear what I have to say."

  "It really wouldn't make a difference, now would it?"

  She looks over at the quiet woman in my bed, then looks at me. More tears begin to fall. “No, I guess not." She squares her shoulders, lifts her chin and takes a few steps in my direction. I don't move when she leans forward to kiss my lips. She lingers for a moment, then draws back. "I'm sorry. I wish I would have told you sooner, but I didn't know how to without feeling dirty or ashamed."

  She takes off the ring I had given her and places it in my hand, then turns around and walks toward the door.

  "Tabitha," I call after her. I don’t know what I want to say, or even if I want to say anything. I guess I just needed to see her face one last time.

  She's almost out the door when she turns around to look at me. “Why couldn’t you just come to me and ask me about the pictures?” Her voice sounds broken. “Why did you have to react first? Why did you have to sleep with her?”

  I can do nothing but stare at her. Everything in me is screaming at me to rush to her, pull her into my arms, kiss her and make love to her like there is no tomorrow, but my legs won’t move. I’m left standing in this room with the woman I love more than my own life and a nameless woman in my bed.

  "I love you, Jeremiah," she says.

  She closes the door behind her and I am left alone with a woman whose name I don't remember and with the cold, harsh reality that we are over. I really can't tell you what is going through my mind right now. I'm just standing here, glued to the floor, staring at the door that the only woman I ever truly loved just walked out of.

  “So, are the two of you like broken up now?" the woman in my bed questions suddenly.

  "All right but first I need to make a few calls."

  Present

  Jeremiah

  (1)

  "Pace any harder and you’re going to dig your own grave," my brother, Jason, calls from his stance by the kitchen entrance.

  I turn around to see Jason, Remy and Amber watching me pace around the living room of Tabitha's parents’ home. Apparently, they find me and my constant pacing very amusing. Bastards. I don't see what's so fucking amusing about me. I turn back to the stairs and continue pacing. It's been almost an hour since she barricaded herself up in her old bedroom to get ready when she—my fucking Tabitha—usually gets dressed in less than ten.

  "Jeremiah, we women always take a lot of time to get dolled up." Amber thrusts her arms into the air in a gesture that implies, Duh, you should know this! "Calm down, it's her wedding day."

  "She's an expert," Jason says, wrapping his arm around his wife’s midsection.

  "Amber!" Barbara, Tabitha's best friend, screams, running down the stairs with what looked like a needle and white thread in her hand. "We need your help up here! What are you still doing here?" Her gaze is pinned on me. "Tabitha and I agreed that you all should just leave and meet her at the church."

  "The fuck I will," I growl and head up the stairs, passed her, and to the bedroom door.

  Curling my fingers around the doorknob, I go to push open the door. "Tabitha?"

  When I hear shuffling, I push closer to the edge and open the door a little more." Please don't come in here, Jer!" The door is suddenly slammed shut.

  "I want to see you.”

  She is my soon-to-be-wife, yet I can't see her? I don’t like it.

  "I want you to see me walking down the aisle towards you," she calls through the wooden door.

  "And I will. Just ope
n the door and I'll do your zipper."

  "You can undo it later and then do me." The cheeky statement is followed by a soft chuckle from who I assume is Brooke.

  "Move, Jeremiah," Barbara says as she and Amber push me out of the way. "You, Remy and Jason should head out to the church. We'll meet you there soon."

  I glare at the back of her head as she grabs the doorknob, pushes the door open and slides into the fucking bedroom, Amber following close behind her, through a tiny slit. Opening the door a bit wider, my son and Melissa step out of the room, only allowing me to see the train of Tabitha's dress. They look up at me and their lips are curled up in such a way that they are almost identical to the expressions Jason and my father do.

  My son reaches up and grabs two of my fingers since my hands are much larger than his, then pulls on them. "Dad?"

  I lean down to pick him up. "Yeah?" I tickle his side, which elicits a laugh.

  "Dad!" he laughs.

  I lift my head to meet his eyes and he's fucking ecstatic. "You're a ticklish little guy, aren't you?"

  "Yesss!"

  I cradle him in my arms, his small frame fitting perfectly into my arms, and tickle him. He is laughing and I can't help but stare at him in complete awe. My eight-year-old son, Jacob, the son Keisha gave me; he was the first perfect thing I'd ever done in my entire life. I'd never thought about having kids. I never thought I could create something like him, but here he was. My life now revolves around him, Melissa and Tabitha, who always keeps me on my toes.

  Tabitha. My Tabitha.

  Oh, God, where do I start with her?

  "All right, dad, you heard her. We should get going," Melissa says, slapping a hand on my back.

  I turn to look at the dark brown toned teenage girl before me. She's become a big part of my life—she's become like a daughter to me. She, along with Tabitha and Jacob, hold my heart in their hands. It hasn't always been like this, though. There was a time where she couldn't stand the sight of me. She would never stay in the same room as me for more than ten minutes, but look where we are now. She calls me dad. I like it, a lot.

  After a glance at my watch, I knock on the bedroom door. "I want her at the church in thirty minutes," I say, "or I'm coming for her."

  The door slides open just enough to allow Barbara to poke her head out. "All right. Now get out of here," she hisses before slamming the door in my face.

  I glare at the door, then put Jacob down. "I'm really starting not to like her," I grumble.

  Melissa laughs, "She means well."

  "Yeah, I'm sure she does."

  Jason pulls out the keys to Amber's four-door Ford Truck and unlocks the doors. We all climb inside. I let the passenger seat down a bit and stare up at the ceiling. I still didn't get the fucking fuss about the wedding dress or why it was taking so long. I should ride in the SUV with my soon-to-be wife to the fucking church. Not Amber, Barbara, or Brooke, but me.

  Period.

  Suddenly, Jason lets out a laugh. “It’s not like she's going to leave you standing at the alter or turn into Julia Andrews in Runaway Bride," he says. "Calm your nerves before you pop a vessel."

  I force back the need to reach over and punch him square in the jaw and manage to say, “I know,” but sometimes I didn't know. My past tends to bite me in the ass. I can't risk losing her—losing my family—again. I've hurt her once before. I don't ever want to cause her pain like that again. The thought of never seeing Tabitha and our children again knots my chest. Dying being too easy to describe what I would want to do.

  Jason reaches over and squeezes my shoulder. “Just think about it. In thirty minutes or less, she will be all dressed in white, walking down the aisle to you. For you."

  I don't say anything but give a short nod.

  I have got to wait thirty fucking minutes for my bride, in hell, before I can see her beautiful smile, her beautiful caramel skin, and her bright hazel eyes. It's killing me. So, I pull out my wedding band, stroking it, and read the engraving repeatedly. I WILL FOREVER BE YOURS, T.D.

  She was the only person who can calm me down when I'm anxious or angry. Without her, I wouldn't have the family I now have. Without her, I never would have known what it's like to have someone love you completely and wholeheartedly. She saved me from a life of loneliness and a life without true love.

  I owe this woman my life. And on this day, September 23, 2014, I will gladly surrender myself to her in every way possible.

  Past

  Jeremiah

  (2)

  I've just left the office, heading downtown to my favorite diner for lunch. Traffic today is a bitch with protestors crowding the streets. It had taken Kevin, my driver, damn near fifteen minutes to make it downtown.

  "Sorry about that, boss," Kevin says while pulling up in front of the diner.

  "Don't worry about it," I say, exiting the car, not bothering to wait for him to get out. I close the door behind me, then turn back to look at him. "If you have somewhere to be or something to do, then go. I'll call you when I'm finished here."

  He gives me a short nod. "Thanks, boss," he says, then climbs into the car and pulls off.

  I shake my head as I turn back to the diner and head inside. That man is close to 55 and he speeds more than I do. "Mr. Keegan, you're late," Janice, the owner of the diner, calls from behind the counter.

  "Traffic was a real bitch today," I reply, slipping out of my jacket, placing it on the back of one of the stools before taking a seat in my usual spot at the end of the counter.

  "I bet. The usual?" She pulls out a notepad, scribbling a few words down in red ink.

  "The usual," I say.

  With a smile, she turns her back to me. "Howard, the usual," she says, then turns back around to face me. "So…?"

  "What?" Janice is a sweet woman, but she can also be very nosey.

  "How are things with you and Eliza?"

  I scoff. "That scheming little bitch is long gone."

  I watch her face twist up in confusion and shock at my choice of words. "What happened?"

  She was digging for information, but I wasn't going to give her any. I prefer for my business to stay as is: my business. "It's not something I want to get into right now."

  "Why not—"

  "You always were an intrusive woman," a voice says behind me. "Don't you ever grow tired of sticking your nose in other people's business?"

  I turn in amusement and my gaze stalls on her. Long dark hair that is pulled up into a high ponytail, hazel eyes, and plump lips that are pulled up into a smile. I'm astounded. I take in the stranger with one quick sweep. She's young, athletic, and dressed unassumingly, but there's nothing unassuming about the way that dress hugs her every curve. I've always been attracted to women with gorgeous dark or light skin.

  Holy fuck, I want to run my tongue all over her body.

  When her eyes lock on mine, I don't stop the smile that pulls at the corners of my mouth. "I hope she wasn't much of a bother." She removes her coat, walks by me, then behind the counter. "My mother can be a very inquisitive woman."

  They embrace each other, then pull apart. "I'm old. What else is there for me to do?" Janice laughs.

  The stranger’s laugh wraps around me like a vice and I'm instantly jealous that it's not me making her laugh. I want her. I need her. It is essential that I claim her as mine. She's mine.

  I take a moment, while they’re laughing, to compare the two women. They share the same light brown skin, the stranger’s being a shade lighter, and they have the same facial features, despite Janice being well off in her forties. They were almost identical. The only thing setting them apart being the stranger's height and hair color. If I didn't know any better, I would have thought they were sisters.

  "I'm being completely rude," Janice says, turning to me. "Jeremiah Keegan, this is my daughter, Tabitha Davenport. Tabitha, this is Jeremiah Keegan."

  I hold my hand out to her. She stares at my hand for a moment, then smiles and takes it. "Hello."


  Her hand is small in mine, but her grip is firm. "Tabitha Davenport," I say gruffly out loud, slow and deep.

  I watch her share a look with Janice before pulling her hand free from mine. "Mr. Keegan, do we know each other?"

  No, but we will, is what I want to say, but I stick with just shaking my head. "Call me Jeremiah," I say. "And no, we don't, but if we did, I'd surely remember you."

  Her eyes meet mine, and they're liquid with something I recognize as amusement. "Oh? And why is that, Jeremiah?" She steps closer to the counter, leaning on her forearms, her fingers laced together.

  She's close enough that I can smell her strawberry scented body wash. It makes me crazed. I need to touch, smell, claim and taste her. I burn with the need to reach out, slide my fingers into the nape of her neck, and bring her lips to mine. "You're not the kind of woman a man meets, then forgets.”

  "Then what kind of woman am I?"

  I watch as Janice walks away to attend to customers. “I don't know, but I'm sure I'll find out."

  She blinks for a moment, then laughs.

  I frown. "What's so funny?"

  "Forgive me, but what makes you think such a thing?"

  "Think what?"

  "That you'll be given a chance to find out what kind of woman I am?"

  I smirk anyway, leaning forward on the counter, my hands resting close to hers. "I usually get what I want."

  She looks appalled.

  Her eyes widen in shock and she gives me a look that lets me know she's not at all amused, but a little curious. I take that time to look at her mouth. It looks so soft that I want to lean in closer and capture her lips with mine. And holy God, her scent is driving me insane. She smells so fucking good. I just want to lick her to see if she tastes how she smells.

  Suddenly, she is pulling away, standing up straight and picking up her coat from the counter.

  "Well, Jeremiah Keegan, I'm sure, based on that statement, you don't hear no very often, so…" She slips into her navy-blue coat, buttons it up, then ties it around her waist before lifting her gaze to meet mine. "Let me be the first to tell you… I'm not interested." And with that, she walks from around the counter and over to Janice.