All I Want

by Eden Ashe

  Finally, she took a hesitant step toward him, afraid to read more into this than it was. “Thorn? What are you doing here?”

  “I don’t know.” He exhaled slowly. “I wasn’t planning on coming back, and then I realized I didn’t want to leave yet.”

  That damned hope built again, threatening to crush her. “Oh? Why not?”

  “Because I didn’t tell this girl I like how crazy I am about her.” He hooked a finger in her belt loop, bringing her closer until their toes bumped together. A smile lit his eyes when she tilted her head back. “I didn’t want to go with her not knowing.”

  She sniffled. “Me?”

  “You.” He laughed. His hands slid around her waist then down, until he gripped her ass. He hitched her up and walked her backward while she wrapped her legs around his waist. “I know it’s quick. I know we know barely nothing about each other, and my life is halfway across the country, but I don’t care, Meggie. I’m not ready to call this quits.”

  When he set her on the table, she braced herself on her elbows. “I’m not ready, either. I keep thinking this could be something really special, and I want to find—”

  He swallowed her words and kissed her with so much passion and need and lust, it left her dizzy. Moaning, she wound her arms around his shoulders and let him devour her until both of them forgot how to breathe.

  Finally, he brushed her hair out of her face then pressed his brow to hers. “How do you feel about a roommate for a few days?”

  In answer, she got up on her knees. Before the worry settled in his eyes, she yanked his face toward hers and devoured.

  He was hers, and while they had a lot to figure out, he’d stayed. And it was all she wanted.

  Epilogue

  Six months later….

  “You’re killing me, sunshine.” Thorn set the laptop on the picnic table and glared at the woman on the other end of the chat. “You know I’m in public here, right?”

  She finished wiggling into her shirt then stuck her face in view of the camera. “What’s wrong, Thorn? I thought you liked me shirtless.”

  “Yeah, when I’m there to enjoy it,” he muttered. “Not when I can’t touch you.”

  She grinned, her dimple digging deep. “You know where I live, babe. You even have a key.”

  He did, and no matter how long it was going to be before he got back to Laken, it never left his pocket. It had become his touchstone on a hunt, his good luck charm. “Soon. I promise.”

  “I miss you,” she murmured, the humor fading a little from her eyes. “I miss waking up next to you.”

  “I know. It doesn’t feel right waking up alone anymore.” He cleared his throat. “What’s on your agenda today?”

  “Lilah has a fashion show in town. I told her I’d be there to help.” Her head canted. “Where are you?”

  “Park.” He cleared his throat then glanced at his watch. “I have to go, Meggie. I’ll call you later, okay?”

  “Okay.” She kissed her fingers then pressed them to her screen. “I love you, you know.”

  He did the same thing, not the least bit embarrassed. If she wanted him to strip naked to prove how much he wanted her, he’d do it in a heartbeat, even in public. “I love you, too, Meggie. I’ll see you soon.”

  Then, because they both knew they could talk forever, they simultaneously shut their laptops.

  With butterflies in his gut for the first time in his life, he got back behind the wheel of his car, and turned toward home.

  Two hours after disconnecting her call from Thorn, Megan already missed his voice. And watching her sister put on a bridal fashion show didn’t help. Neither did seeing Jilly pregnant.

  Not that Megan wanted to be pregnant. Or even necessarily married. Just having her boyfriend where she could touch him every day would be enough.

  It still awed her that they’d made it work this long, but she had to admit, not only did they make it work, they were strong as shit. With his job, he traveled enough to stop by at least once or twice a month to see her, and the weekends he was home, she went to Chicago.

  And, while she missed him when they weren’t together, as much as she hated saying good-bye to him before he left, it all faded to the sheer, uncontainable joy that kept building every time she saw him again.

  Forcing herself to focus on decorating the chairs that fanned out from the gazebo in the town center, she was tucking a rose into a ribbon when she heard a little one calling her name.

  Lifting her head, she’d barely glimpsed the tiny dark-haired bullet with big brown eyes flying down the aisle, leaping into her arms at the last second.

  “Meggie!”

  “Amara.” She squeezed the little one in a tight hug. “How did you get here, princess?”

  “Uncle Tor. Momma.” She pointed at the couple standing at the edge of the park.

  Jaid, tiny compared to Thorn, waved, a brilliant grin lighting her face. Thorn—dear God, Thorn—dressed in dark jeans, a dark-gray button-down shirt, his hair pulled back at the sides, watched her with so much heat in his eyes her knees weakened.

  Still clutching Amara, she slowly made her way to him, meeting him halfway across the clearing. Her heart had lodged in her throat as he brushed his lips against hers. “What are you doing here?”

  “I had a job offer.” Plucking his niece out of her arms, he set her on the ground before wrapping his arms around Megan’s upper thighs and lifting her off her feet. “Declan and I are starting a new kind of home security business, and we’re basing it here, in Laken.”

  Afraid she was dreaming, she dipped her head and kissed him with everything she had, waiting for that moment when her subconscious snapped back to reality. When it didn’t come, she sniffled and met his eyes. “Really? You’re really moving here? When?”

  “Today.” When she gaped at him, he spun her in a quick, dizzying circle. “I wanted to surprise you. That roommate offer still good?”

  “Of course.” She couldn’t stop nodding as tears welled and slipped down her cheeks. “I love you, Jess Thorn.”

  He shuddered once, closed his eyes, and pressed their brows together, still holding onto her for all he was worth. “Good. Because I can’t breathe without you, Meggie.”

  Sign up for the Decadent Publishing Newsletter here http://eepurl.com/SQ75f and never miss stories like:

  All I Need (Spirits of Laken #1) by Eden Ashe

  Chapter One

  The high-pitched squeal blasted her eardrums the second Jilly opened her car door. Bracing for the coming impact, she’d barely slid out from behind the wheel when the tall, willowy body of her best friend hit her. Losing her balance, Jilly landed on her butt in the dirt, Megan Bannon wrapped around her, a grin lighting up her flawless, beautiful face.

  “You’re here!” Megan squealed again. She cupped Jilly’s face in her hands and gave her a huge, smacking kiss on the mouth. “I was starting to think you’d changed your mind about coming.”

  Jilly grimaced. “And risk my grandmother coming back to haunt me? No thank you.” She tried to shove her off, but it got her nowhere. Megan had six inches on her. Instead, Jilly dug her finger into the woman’s rib cage, her one ticklish spot. “Would you get off me, you oaf?”

  Snickering, Megan leapt to her feet with the casual grace of a born dancer and held out her hand to help her up. “I can’t believe you’re finally home for good.” She hugged her once more before she moved to the back of Jilly’s car, popped the trunk, and peered inside. Frowning, she asked, “That’s it?”

  Jilly shrugged and grabbed the first box. “I have to get the house sorted and figure out what to do with all of Nana’s stuff. She’s always been borderline hoarder, and Luke said it only got worse the last couple of years. I didn’t want to bring more clutter into it.” Because it still hurt to think about her grandmother, even five months after her death, Jilly blew out a breath. “Is he here?”

  Megan snagged a box then lifted a perfect blo
nde brow. “Who? My pain-in-the-ass brother? Not yet.” She muttered something Jilly couldn’t hear before bumping her hip. “You’re not going to kill him, are you?”

  Because she’d had to leave right after her grandmother’s funeral to get back to her job, she hadn’t been able to stay for the will reading. Which meant she still had no clue why Nana had left half of Jilly’s ancestral home to her best friend’s big brother. The lawyer had only said her Nana’s will had been specific—if Jilly didn’t have a husband by the time Nana died, half of the entire estate went to her. The other half went to Luke.

  Shaking her head, she started up the broken stone path to the home she’d grown up in, half expecting to see her grandmother tending to her prize roses in one of the dozen sprawling gardens. Ignoring the pain in her chest at the realization that Nana really was gone, she focused on the house in front of her.

  Crisp, bright-white, half-farmhouse and half-Victorian, with a single spire piercing the sky from the middle and no two windows or doors the same, St. James Manor had sprawled over Laken, South Carolina for four generations.

  “Hey.” Megan stopped walking so abruptly, Jilly almost ran into her. Her friend scowled at her over her shoulder. “You know it worries me when you go quiet like this. Tell me you’re not planning anything…stupid.”

  More amused than offended, Jilly scooted around her and continued toward the house. “Just because I don’t understand why your brother inherited half of my family’s house, doesn’t mean I’m going to murder him in his sleep, Megs.”

  “Ha.” She let out an unladylike snort. “I’d believe that more if you two weren’t mortal enemies.”

  Juggling the box in one arm, she searched her pocket for her keys. “I don’t hate him, and he’s not my enemy.”

  “Please.” Megan rolled her eyes. “You two have never been able to stay in a room together.”

  Jilly stopped halfway up the front porch steps, something tightening in her gut. Shifting the box into the crook of one arm, she grabbed Meg’s wrist until their eyes locked. “Maybe once, but it’s kind of hard to hate the person who saved your life. Twice. Literally.”

  Pure, unadulterated rage flashed in the depths of Megan’s glass-green eyes at the remembrance of what had triggered her brother’s temper. “Luke was too nice. That asshole deserved to die.”

  As always, love swamped Jilly at her immediate, wholehearted jump to over-protective best friend. Going on tiptoe, she kissed her cheek then drew in a long, slow breath and squared off with the large, hand-carved front door. “All right, are you ready?”

  Megan bobbed her head. “When you are.”

  With the box still tucked under one arm, Jilly grasped the handle. Before she could turn the knob, her fingers slipped off. She tried again.

  Megan’s head canted when, after the third try, Jilly had only managed to wrap her hand around the knob. “What the hell? Is it greased?”

  Shaking her head, Jilly set the box on the porch then swiped her palms across the backof her jeans. Her hands weren’t sweaty, and the knob didn’t feel different—the handle was normal. But no matter what she did, she couldn’t hold onto it.

  “Let me try.” Megan dumped her box in Jilly’s arms then made a production of pretending to crack her knuckles before she gripped the knob without luck. They stared at each other. “Okay, I’m calling it. That’s officially weird.”

  Jilly shook her head again and handed the box back to her, half-positive they were missing something. Who couldn’t open a door? “Stay here. I’ll go try the back door.”

  ***

  As bad days went, Luke Bannon figured this one had to be in the fucking hall of fame.

  Five months. For five goddamned months, he and his lawyers had been searching for a way out. Something, some small loophole that would get him out of ownership of a white elephant he had no desire to co-own, let alone deal with.

  He had enough shit going on in his life without worrying about some damn money pit monstrosity, or the woman who came along with it. But despite everything, despite all the money he’d paid them to find a way out, his lawyers had informed him the damn will was ironclad.

  To unload the beast, he’d have to sell it, and he didn’t have to imagine what Jilly’s reaction to that would be: Over her dead body.

  Tossing his toolbox into the passenger seat of his ancient truck, he climbed behind the wheel and told himself to man-up and face the facts—he was good and royally fucked.

  Pushing a palm through the hair he’d forgotten to get trimmed—again—he thought there had to be away to appeal to her common sense. Despite her emotional attachment to the place, Jilly had to see that, for one, it was too goddamn big for her. And, two, the place needed so much work, even if he started that day, it would take him ten years to renovate and update everything.

  Which exhausted him just thinking about it.

  But, being honest, it wasn’t her reaction that worried him. He knew her, how she’d react, and he wouldn’t blame her for any of it. St. James Manor belonged to her family, the last thing she had left of her parents and her grandparents, and she belonged there.

  So, no. He didn’t expect any surprises there. It was himself he worried about. He could fight through the lawyers until the end of time, but when he came face-to-face with her, he’d damn well give her the moon if she asked for it.

  And since the terms of the will were clear-cut and ironclad, Luke had two choices—convince her to sell her ancestral home or move in with her.

  The lawyers had given him clear indication before he’d left their office; he had one week to convince her to sell. That was it.

  He may as well pack his fucking bags and move in.

  Spotting her car when he took the turn up into the long, winding drive, he pulled in behind it, set his jaw, and yanked the last box out of her open trunk before starting up the path.

  His steps faltered at the sight that greeted him. Megan sat on the steps of the huge wraparound porch, giving directions to Jilly, who crouched on her hands and knees—ass facing him—in the bushes, trying to…. nothing came to mind.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  All movement stopped with a squeak, and a muffled oh shit emanated from the shrubbery before she backed out. Shooting to her feet, she was all grace and dignity as she clasped her hands in front of her and offered him a cheerful smile.

  “Hi.”

  Lust, raw, painful, and grinding, slammed into him with so much force, he almost staggered under it. And, quick on the heels of the lust, came the blinding need. To touch her. Feel her. Wrap her in his arms and never fucking let her go.

  Instead, he glared at her, torn between self-preservation and self-loathing for the light that dimmed in her sky-blue eyes. “What are you doing?”

  Small and curvy, with dark-red hair, a perfect Cupid’s-bow mouth, and freckles, she was the perfect mix of adorably cute and heart-stoppingly beautiful. The banked, tightly controlled fire in her eyes never failed to gut him. If he were less of a man, and if she weren’t his little sister’s best friend, he’d have devoted his life to tempting that fire until it burned them both alive.

  An upturned chin was her only outward sign of emotion. “There is something wrong with the doors. I was trying to break in through the basement window.”

  He frowned. “What are you talking about?” Without waiting for an answer, he moved past her and took the porch steps two at a time. The two women whispered to each other behind him, but he ignored them and grasped the knob. It turned easily, the door swinging open as if it had been waiting for him.

  “What?” Jilly and Megan asked in stunned unison.

  His sister poked him in the back. “How did you do that?”

  Dropping the box he held onto the nearest decorative table, he propped his shoulder against the wall and narrowed his eyes. “Are you two drinking already?”

  With one final glare at him, Jilly pulled the door shut then immediate
ly opened it again. “How…?” She raked a hand through her shoulder-length hair and looked at Megan. “Are we cracking up?”

  “Yes,” he said at the same moment his sister said, “No.”

  They continued taking turns closing the door and opening it again. Desperation already ground low in his gut, and watching her wasn’t helping.

  The coming week wasn’t just going to be the hardest of his life. It would never fucking end.