by Alexa Riley
“Kicking up a storm. I think it might be another girl,” she sighs. I don’t care if it’s boy or a girl, I just want it healthy and happy.
We’ve got two girls already, and although I’m happy with another, I know she secretly wants a boy. She turns, and I pull her into my arms, lifting her up to sit her on the kitchen counter. I lean down and kiss her belly, and she runs her fingers through my hair.
I grab her bare foot and begin to rub it. She leans back, groaning loudly with pleasure, and I smile.
“Do you miss wearing heels?” I don’t ask her about the past too much. Naomi likes to say her life began the day the wall came down and we were married.
“Not for one second,” she answers as she reaches out and touches my cheek. I lean into the caress, enjoying her hands on me.
About two years ago we got word that her mother had taken ill and asked for Naomi to come see her. I went with her, and I brought a team of security just in case. But when we got there, I could see that there wasn’t a need for it. She’d moved to a home for the elderly that offered assisted living. I let Naomi have her time, but she didn’t say much to her mom. She just sat there and listened, then got up and told me she was ready to go home.
She told me her mother just needed to say goodbye, and she let her do that. She never mentions her father who was imprisoned for his crimes and will reside there until the day he dies. I don’t know how my precious bride could have come from such hate, but she reminds me that even flowers grow among the weeds.
I move my hands to her other foot and begin to rub that one as our daughters run through the house. They set a basket of blackberries on the counter and squeal with delight when Naomi tells them all the yummy treats they’re going to bake with them.
Our lives are much simpler now than they were before. But better in all ways. We made our choices and did what was right, and in the end, we created our paradise.
THE END!
Acknowledgments
The Rebel Series is written in part by Abby Knox.
We loved her stories so much, we stole them from her and filled them with Alexa Riley goodness.
For more from Abby click below!
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Layla O’Leary has had enough. For years she has been haunted by the night she can’t remember. When she learns the only man she's ever loved has betrayed her, she escapes and crafts a new identity. She's finally free...
Carter has waited eight years to claim his woman. Locking him up only fueled his obsession. The day he gets out he's coming for her. Taking the Fall was just the start. Now he'll stop at nothing to possess what's his.
Warning: this book contains a hero who grunts and growls his way through life, a heroine nicknamed Cherry looking to lose it, and insta-love so fast and hard your panties might disintegrate. Note: not responsible for exploding panties.
Prologue
Layla
“What the fuck are you doing here, Cherry?” Carter growls and stands up from a metal chair.
I’ve never seen this look on him before. Well, not directed at me anyway. What should I expect though? The man is in prison and has been for four years, and still has another four to go.
I haven’t seen him since that night. The night I can’t remember. The reason I’m here.
“Did you get my letters?” I ask, ignoring his question. I sent hundreds over the years and never once did he respond.
“Yeah, I got them,” he fires back.
“But…you never...” My words trail off as the force of what he’s saying hits me. He got my letters; he just didn’t care enough to write back. The first ones started off asking what had happened, because I had so many questions. All I have is this giant blank spot in my mind driving me insane. One second I have a perfect life and the next I wake up in the hospital covered in bruises, with my mother missing, along with my bodyguard. Poof! No more Mom and no more Carter. For some reason, the loss of Carter hurt the most. After that my once-loving father turned cold. Others might have called my father cold before on account of his dealings with the dirtier elements of society, but I never thought he was…until now.
“Ever think there was a reason I didn’t respond? I threw them out. I don’t want you here.” Carter has always been blunt and to the point but he was never intentionally cruel, and never with me. He had been my bodyguard for six months before that night. I couldn’t turn around without tripping over him. Anytime I was allowed to the leave house, he was at my side like a shadow.
Shifting uncomfortably, I take him in. He’s huge. I remember him as always being big, but now he seems massive. His six foot four frame looks like it’s been chiseled from stone and could bust the seams of his prison uniform. I don’t recall him having so many tattoos either, but now every inch of exposed skin is covered in them, peeking up around the neck of his uniform. I also don’t recall ever wanting to lick them as I do now.
Slowly moving my eyes back to his face, I see his jaw is hard from clenching it. His eyes lock on mine, so green they almost look like colored contact lenses. Those blazing emeralds snap away and do a head-to-toe sweep of my body. My breath catches in my throat at the look he gives me. It was hard and deadly before, but now it appears hungry and consuming. He makes me feel naked, completely stripped.
In three long strides he’s in front of me, lifting me into his arms. Caught completely off guard, I gasp. He wraps his free hand in my long hair and pulls my head back, claiming my mouth. My fingers grab the fabric of his shirt and try to pull him closer. I feel like my whole body has just come alive. My body is overcome with all the passion and fervor I’ve felt all these years, but I don’t exactly have any experience to guide me. I’m twenty and I’ve never been kissed. But this doesn’t feel like any kiss I’ve ever imagined. It feels like he’s devouring my body with his mouth, his teeth, his tongue. It feels like Carter is ravishing my soul.
Going to an all-girls’ school kept me sheltered. I even took all my college classes online after I graduated. The only dick that was ever near me was hired by my father. His men were either deadly scared of him or had too much respect for him to touch me—probably a little of both.
I follow Carter’s lead and return his kiss. I’ve wanted this for years. Before he was taken away, I used to try to get his attention and shamelessly flirt with him. I think I was terrible at it because never once did he touch me. I never cared that he was ten years older than I was. I wanted him. I even had this silly idea that if I waited for him, he could be mine. That’s why I wrote him those stupid letters that he clearly didn’t give a shit about. Feeling my anger rush back at the reminder, I go to push at his chest, but we’re ripped apart suddenly. A guard has me in his arms and my feet are still off the floor. It takes three other guards to wrestle Carter down onto one of the tables.
His hands grip the side of the table, his white knuckles betraying his iron grip. “Fuck, Cherry, never thought I was the jealous type,” he says, his voice rough with a touch of fury and possession. “Until you.” His glare moves to the guard holding me. “Now get your fucking hands off her.”
I’m stunned by his words. He’s pinned to a table by three guards and he’s giving orders? I guess some things never change.
“Get. Them. The. Fuck. Off,” Carter barks again as he starts to rise from his position, even as the guards try to push him down.
“This is my prison, Carter. You may get some leeway because of who you are, but there are cameras in here,” the guard holding me says as he places me back down on the floor.
“I just came for answers,” I whisper, hoping he doesn’t catch on to my lie. I want answers, but I want him more.
“I got no answers for you here. I don’t want to see your little ass in this place again, Cherry.” ‘Cherry’, the name used to make me smile. Now it’s starting to piss me off.
“Says the man who just had his tongue down my throat,” I shoot back, feeling my anger boil over. Hell, I sho
uldn’t have said that. I don’t want him to know I care, but how can he not after receiving all those stupid letters? Letters that had started off as questions but slowly turned into a diary. I sent him my every thought. But, as time went on, they morphed into love letters to him. Maybe he doesn’t know what they contained. Maybe he threw them out before reading them. I’m grasping at straws. He may not know it, but he is all I have left.
After my mother disappeared, my father turned as cold as she had been. I had always been a silly child who just got in my mother’s way. She was too busy going to events and maintaining an image to devote any time or attention to me. I can still remember her offhand comments about my weight and frenzied red hair. I just always seemed to be in her way—a disappointing nuisance. Now my father can barely look at me. Does my father love me? Yes, I believe so. Family is everything to him. But does he show it? Can I feel it? Not anymore. Now I’m put away on a shelf, having to sneak away to come here.
“I haven’t felt a woman’s body in years, can’t blame a man for taking opportunities as they arise,” he says cockily as the guards slowly let him up. He drops down into a metal chair. He seems completely unfazed by what has just happened. I guess that was all it was to him—a man needing a fix. He didn’t possess my mouth, my soul for those few moments because he needed to touch me. No one touches me.
“I see I don’t have anyone now. Looks like I can go,” I say flatly, all emotion leaching from my voice. Hell, if no one else wants to show me any tenderness, why should I give any?
“Good. Get gone,” he snarls through clenched teeth, but I see his eyes soften for an instant before being replaced by his usual stoniness. Or maybe I’m trying to convince myself and it was never there.
Pulling the picture I have from my pocket, I let it drop to the floor and I take one last look at the man I’ve been thinking about every night for the past four years. I don’t want the reminder of him anymore if he doesn’t want me.
I’m done living in a world that seems to feel nothing while I feel everything.
I have the quarter million I took from Daddy’s safe before I gave the guards the slip. I’m starting my life over, a life with no more holes in it, a life where I can find people who want to feel with me.
I turn to make my way to leave. Behind me I hear Carter rise from his chair, the metal scratching across the concrete floor. Opening the door to leave, I toss my final words over my shoulder. “Don’t you worry, Carter. No one will be seeing me around anymore.” The door slams behind me and I hear all hell break loose on the other side.
I square my shoulders and keep on walking. I only have one feeling in my heart now.
Freedom.
Chapter One
Layla
Four Years Later…
Running a hand over my breast, I play with my hardening nipple through my thin baby tee. I think back to the dirty novel I’d been reading before I went to bed. I’m turned on and I need release. In the book the hero had been aggressive and demanding, the way Carter always was. No, not Carter, never Carter. Pushing him to the back of my mind, I try to imagine Justin as the hero of the story. He is my boyfriend, after all; it should be his face I’m picturing.
He pushed her up against the wall, his front to her back. He was sliding his hand under her skirt, taking what was his. Sliding my own hand between my thighs and under my white silk panties, I push my lips apart and stroke my clit. I work my hips against my fingers and try to picture Justin taking me with such force. The most force he’s ever exercised in our relationship is when we try to pick a wine to pair with dinner. Never mind that I hate wine and all the fancy restaurants he insists I go to.
Getting nowhere with my fantasy of Justin, Carter’s face comes to mind again. He never seems to be far away. It doesn’t matter how many times I try to push him out of my mind, doesn’t matter that it’s been four years since I last saw his face, doesn’t matter that I hate him. Just picturing him shoving me up against a wall, flipping up my skirt, ripping my panties away, thrusting into me and growling that I’m his makes me instantly wet.
I can feel the orgasm coming now, or at least I think I do. What with the way my best friend Jeanette describes them, I’m not sure I’ve ever really had one. When she gives me details of her latest fling she makes it sound like having an orgasm is the greatest thing ever. Going from her reports, I think my vagina is broken or at least seriously faulty.
Pulling my hand out of my panties, I glance at the clock and notice I still have ten minutes before I need to get up and get ready for work. I’ll be damned if I lie in bed masturbating to thoughts of Carter having me. He doesn’t want me and I won’t be giving him my orgasm. I would rather go without than get off thinking of him.
I fling the comforter back and flip on the nightstand light before making my way to the closet. My house is a small, two-bedroomed bungalow that sits right on the edge of Reno. I used the cash I took from my father’s safe to buy it. It’s not much but it’s mine. I didn’t want to use all the money I stole in case I have to run again but it’s nice to have a place to call my own. Home.
One thing I’ve loved most about my freedom from my father is a life of my own. I come and go as I please, eat whatever I want and, most importantly, wear what I like. This new-found freedom shows in my closet. Two things I’ll never give up are my dirty books and my shoe collection. I know it sounds silly but my shoes gave me some confidence when I started my new life. I never thought I was unattractive and I love my curves, but Carter took a shot at my self-belief. I’ve always been short at just over five feet and I have to strain my neck to look at most men, so a sexy pair of high heels gives me a boost in every way. I rock my heels as tall as they come because I don’t want to have to look up to a man. Any man.
Grabbing a pair of plum-purple high-waisted slacks, a cream button-up blouse and a pair of four-inch heels, I get ready in the bathroom. It doesn’t take me long because I don’t wear a ton of makeup, but I like to do a little something to my eyes. With bright-red hair it’s hard to wear certain shades and not look like a clown. My silky hair doesn’t take much to manage—a little brushing and some pins and it’s all set. To finish off, I swipe on some pink lip gloss to bring out the cream of my skin. As I put the tube back in the cabinet, the name of the shade catches my eye: ‘cherry blossom pink’. I growl in frustration and throw the half-empty container in the trash. That bastard seems to follow me wherever I go.
Shaking off my momentary rush of anger, I go to the kitchen and grab a banana muffin and coffee before I head to the library to start my shift. I was so excited when I landed the job there. It’s a public library but the local high school uses it as its library as well. My favorite part of working there is getting to work with the kids. It makes me feel like I’m making a little difference in the world. It might not be much but it means a lot to me.
I was sure I would have to work at a diner or something. I didn’t really have much of an education to begin with—just some online classes—but Jeanette, the head librarian, hired me on the spot. Because of my lack of formal education, my only real skill is playing the piano, and I haven’t had the luxury of playing much since I left. I sneak over to the high school a few times a week during my lunch break to use the piano they have in the music department. The music teacher Mr. Hall is always trying to get me to help out and play for some of the school concerts, but they sometimes make the papers and that just isn’t a risk I could take.
I thought about buying a piano of my own when I got my house. I even made sure that my living room had the space for one, but I didn’t want to eat into my emergency money. It was worth the sacrifice to be free.
I hear my cell ring, already knowing who it is. I pick it up without looking at the incoming number.
“Morning, Jeanette,” I say.
“Morning, chica,” she purrs into the phone. “What’s his name?”
“Stephen, I believe.”
“How was he?” she asks, playing our normal game
of ‘who did Layla sleep with last night?’
“Too alpha and demanding for my taste,” I lie, knowing that I loved every second of Stephen’s brute ways in the novella I devoured last night. I reason that if I keep telling myself that this kind of man doesn’t turn me on, then maybe it will come true. I need a man like my boyfriend, Justin. He’s sweet, passive for the most part, and probably pays his bills two weeks before they’re due. If only I could get my body and vagina to agree with my head. I really need to break up with him. I’ve been avoiding him for days and even canceled a few of our dates. I’m not even sure he’s into me. He never really tries to make a move on me and doesn’t seem to care when I do cancel on him. I often wonder why he’s even with me.
“Anything has got to be better than Justin, if you ask me,” Jeanette says, reading my mind.
“Enough about my boring, sexless life. Tell me about your amazing night,” I say cheekily, knowing she’ll spill all the dirty details while I live vicariously through her. Jeanette has been trying to get this intimidating guy who’s been hanging around the library for weeks to ask her out. Finally he cracked. I thought he seemed kind of weird. Okay, maybe not weird but out of place. He’s a giant of a man, not as big as I remember Carter being, but he looks like he could hold his own against a few guys if he needed to. He has a scar that runs from his eyebrow down to his cheek, looking like it barely missed his eye. His raven hair and tanned skin contrast starkly with his clear blue eyes. When I first saw him, I thought his eyes looked strange with the dangerous feel he had going on. But the first time I saw Jeanette make him smile, his entire demeanor suddenly shifted and became as light and bright as his eyes.