by Tijan
it’s one that you should want a quick exit out of, but hear me out.” He moved closer, lowering his voice. “Please.”
He didn’t have to ask. I was already listening, and I knew I was looking at him with so much love. It must’ve been shining from me. How could he not see?
He started again, taking a step closer. His voice was so soft. “I live in a building with other residents because I used to live in a barn.” He wasn’t looking at me, like he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Like he was ashamed. “That’s ridiculous, isn’t it? I’m the head of a mafia family, and I don’t ever want to be alone.”
“Cole—”
He raised his voice, but he still didn’t look at me. “It’s why I have people living there. It’s why I liked to go to your place, not mine. It was never about not wanting you at my place or having it be a secret or anything. I lost everyone in my life. I lost Carter, too. It was just me for a long while. Me and—” He gestured to the barn behind us. “—horses. That’s who I lived with. I didn’t let myself love the family that helped me. I wouldn’t because I knew one day someone would come to kill them. I knew every person in my life would eventually die. And they did. I lost three good friends. I have lost a shit ton of people, Addison.”
He was right in front of me now. Living. Breathing. He was so warm. He looked at me then, and instantly I felt the difference, like he gave me oxygen. He touched my hands, interlocking my fingers with his. I felt the heat emanating from him. It was wrapping me in a safe shelter, pulling me in, tempting me. I leaned toward him.
“I’ll always lose people. That’s the life I live.”
I bit down on my lip. It was all I could do to keep from wrapping my arms around him, pulling him to me, sinking my fingers into his shoulders, holding him close…
…never letting him go.
“So I won’t.”
My eyelids flew up. “What?”
“I won’t ask you to come back. I shouldn’t have come.”
“What?” I had to ask again. This wasn’t what I wanted.
“I’m letting you go.”
He held my hand and pressed his lips to my forehead. It was a farewell kiss. He was pulling away.
“Goodbye, Addison.”
“Cole,” I started. If anything happened to him…
He turned to go, but I grabbed his arm.
Images flashed in my mind. When he walked into Gianni’s.
The elevator.
The running track.
Our first night. Our second night, when he stepped off that elevator and held me.
The fundraiser night, when everyone was staring at Cole, who was staring at me.
When he came to me that night.
When he left to protect me at the horse ranch.
When I drove him home.
And the last time, as I was strapped in that bed. The gunfire, and then he’d opened the door. He’d saved me. I remembered his words, “I love you.”
“You told me you loved me,” I blurted.
“What?”
“When you saved me. I heard what you said to me.” I let go of his arm and touched where his lips had been. My fingers lingered there. “You told me you loved me.” I made sure to look right into him. I wanted him to know the truth, my truth. “I love you, too.”
His mouth twisted, looking pained. “Addison.”
I grabbed his shirt. “I love you.”
“No, Addison. I’m letting you go. I’m trying to do the right thing. I’m in the mafia. That’ll never change.”
It didn’t matter. I shook my head. “I’m standing here, and I’m staring at you, and I’m thinking all of those same thoughts. He’s in the mafia. He’s dangerous. He could die. I could see him die.” I dipped my head, but I kept looking at him, holding his gaze. He needed to see that I meant every single word. “I could see you die. All over again. The same nightmare. But it doesn’t matter. That’s the truth that keeps hitting me. It. Doesn’t. Matter. My heart might still be pounding. I might still be walking, talking, breathing when I’m away from you, but I’m not living. That’s what I’ve realized these last four months. I could wait another three, another six. It doesn’t matter, because it’s you. I’m choosing you, just like I chose you the night we were attacked.” The words wrung from me. “I choose you.”
He paused, looking right back into me, and I saw the wall lift. It was staggering. The relief. The sadness. The hope. He was like me, struggling to do the right thing, to walk away, but we were wrong. To stay—that was the right thing.
He crushed me to him. His mouth on mine, once again, where it was supposed to have been this whole time. I felt his desperation, still as hungry as I was.
He murmured, his words a caress against my skin, “Thank God.”
Then he kissed me, and I hoped he’d never stop.
Six months later
“I love you.”
I grinned before I even opened my eyes. This was how every girl should wake up every morning. Cole’s lips touched mine again before he moved down to my throat. I raked my hands through his hair and asked, with my eyes still closed, “Why do you love me?” I loved when he told me.
He laughed, his breath tickling my skin. He kissed my neck. “I love you because of the way you laugh. You didn’t laugh in the beginning, but now I just want to make you laugh all the time.”
I opened one eye. “Yeah?”
He grinned, his eyes twinkling as he kissed the right side of my neck. He was stretched out beside me, leaning on one of his arms. He murmured again, “I love you because you go running with me every morning. Well, most mornings.”
I barked out a laugh now. I hadn’t gone the morning before. Sia’s bachelorette party had proved too much of a hangover for me. But Cole had come back and awoken me in a whole other way. I was hoping for a repeat today.
I opened my other eye. “Come on. Keep going.”
His eyes darkened, and he dropped a light kiss to the left side of my neck. “I love you because you go riding with me, and you don’t mind mucking a stall or two.”
I groaned. “It’s so hard to come back to the city every time we’re at the ranch. It’s beautiful out there.”
He shifted, moving farther down, and I felt his lips in the valley between my breasts. His free hand moved to cover one of them, his thumb rubbing over my nipple.
I murmured, “Keep going. I’m loving hearing all these reasons.” I winked.
He shook his head, just slightly, before he pinched my nipple.
“Hey!”
He ignored me, running his tongue around the nipple.
“I love you because you crashed Dawn’s Tuesday Spaghetti Night with Ken.”
“It’s not fair. If she gets to eat with Ken, I want to eat with him, too.” I stuck out my bottom lip, remembering Dawn’s protests. “She acts like she’s the only one who can be sneaky, or eat with Ken. She’s not the only one who adores him.”
“And.” He moved up, gazing down into my eyes. His hand raked through my hair. “I really love how you embrace everyone in your life.”
“Oh.” That one touched me more the others. He wasn’t talking about Sia, Jake, and Dawn, or even Ken. He wasn’t referring to the rest of the residents in the building. He was talking about Emma, who had become a close friend over the last six months. My throat closed with emotion. “I’m the one lucky to have Emma as a friend. She’s a good person.”
“She’s family to me. I know you made more of an effort for me.” He dropped his lips to mine, whispering there, “Thank you.”
“Sia’s still a little afraid of her.” I laughed lightly, my lips brushing over his. “I love Sia, but I think that makes me like Emma even more.” I sobered. “I wish they weren’t leaving tomorrow.”
Emma had flown in for Sia’s bachelorette party. Cole spent the evening with Carter. I didn’t ask what they did, but when I came home, there’d been paintball gear left on the kitchen table. I had a hard time imagining Cole and Carter Reed play
ing paintball, but I guess it was ironic in a way.
“We’re flying to see them in a few months.”
“That’s right.” I nudged him, bumping my hips up against his. “I don’t understand why you lied to me before. You could’ve told me you were part owner of The Octavia.”
He smirked, snaking an arm under me. He pulled me tight, tugging my body down until he fit right between my legs. He settled in, and I could feel him there, pressing against my opening. His eyes grew more serious.
He brushed some of my hair from my forehead, his touch tender. “I own a lot of places, and you could’ve researched the owners of The Octavia. I worried you would find out about me sooner than I intended.”
“About you being in the mafia.”
He nodded, his eyes watching mine. “I didn’t mean for you to find out the way you did. I wanted to tell you. I just…” He hesitated, drawing in a deep breath. His chest moved against mine. “I wanted to make sure it would stick, what we had.”
“You didn’t think so after you flew me out there?”
“I hoped.” His smirk morphed into a rueful half-grin. “I more than hoped.”
An ache stirred in me, and I wound my legs around him, pulling him into me. The love talk was nice, but I was becoming impatient. When his eyes met mine, I murmured, “I’m glad everything happened the way it did.”
“Yeah?”
“I was already falling in love with you then.” I remembered the jittery feeling in my stomach, the confusion, the euphoria. It was there, but I hadn’t wanted to identify it. I hadn’t been ready.
He brushed his thumb along the side of my mouth. “I love you.”
“I know.” I laughed as I pulled him down. I met him halfway, my lips searching for his, and then I said, “Now show me. Again.”
And he did just that.
The End
Stay tuned for more Carter in Carter Reed 3, coming soon!
For more details, go to www.tijansbooks.com
Oh boy. I started writing Cole so long ago. It wasn’t intended to be a secret project, but my creative process was blocked to the book I was supposed to be writing. The characters in Cole just kept popping into my head and so a little over a month and a half, I had the first rough draft done. I didn’t tell a lot of people, just a few because I wanted to surprise everyone and now I’m writing the acknowledgements. The feeling is very surreal. I can’t believe it’s almost ready to go for everyone to read! Thank you, thank you, thank you to my agent (Kimberly), my team that always is there when I need something either critiques or just reassurances: Debra, Cami, Eileen, Heather, Autumn, Paige, Chris, Kerri, Kara, and Pam! You guys are amazing! And Elaine, the best formatter ever! ;) You always work me into your schedule and you have no idea how thankful I am for that. And Jessica!! Gah. You’re a miracle worker and so extremely patient, flexible, and just amazing to work with. Thank you guys!!
And the Tijanettes! You guys have no clue how that group helps me out. You guys make me want to keep writing. I mean, I’ll always write. I have to because I’m addicted to writing, but there’s been some days when I’ve felt crushed and I saw a post in there that took some of that feeling away.
Thank. You. So. Much!
CARTER REED
CHAPTER ONE
Douchebag’s here.
That was the first thought that went through my head as I crept into our apartment. It was my apartment—mine—and I had to slink inside because my roommate’s boyfriend was a pervert. I always snuck in when I saw his car in the parking lot, but this time was different. They were in the living room and my roommate cried out. I heard the slap next as he backhanded her and that stopped everything. I couldn’t move, but I could see them. Then he growled at her to shut up before he went back to his business. She still whimpered, but quieted as he kept thrusting into her.
I couldn’t look away.
He was raping her.
Sickness blasted me. I couldn’t believe what was happening in front of me.
He kept thrusting as he held her down in front of him. His legs held her trapped and he was leaning over with one of his hands holding both of her wrists together. He kept going. My roommate lay there in surrender. He had defeated her, broken her, and I was witnessing it all.
Vomit and hatred spewed up in my throat, but I clamped them down. They wouldn’t burst out of me, not when I had a chance to do something that I knew I would regret. But even with that thought, the decision had already been made in my mind.
Mallory cried out again. Her agony was heart-wrenching. My hand trembled before he ordered her to shut up again. Then he thrust harder, deeper. He kept going, clueless as to who else might’ve been in the apartment.
This was my home.
This was her home.
He was not welcome, but he didn’t care. He kept going into her. Then he growled in pleasure. The sound of it went straight to the pit of my stomach. I wanted to spew my guts once more, but instead my eyes hardened and I went to the kitchen. There was a whole drawer of knives, but none of them would do. Not for him.
I went past the kitchen and knelt at the floorboards of our patio. I removed one of them and gripped the box that I knew my brother would’ve hated to know I had. Another scream ripped from behind me and my resolve grew.
My arm didn’t shake.
I found the gun my brother had never wanted me to know about. I gripped it and lifted it free from the box before I put the floorboard back together. Then, with my heart going slower than it should’ve been and clearer eyes than I should’ve had, I turned for the living room again. The sounds of his thrusting continued. The couch slammed against the wall with each thrust. My roommate cried out with each movement. It never seemed to stop, but I held on tighter to the gun before I turned the last corner.
He had readjusted them. He sat her up against the wall as he kept pumping into her. Now her head bounced against the wall. She was pale as a ghost; fresh tears fell over the dried ones. Her eyeliner streamed down with them so that her face was streaked black, with bruises starting to fill in the rest of the space on her face. Her cheek was already swollen and red from where he had slapped her. There were cuts at the top of her forehead. Blood streamed from them. He had sliced her and pulled her hair out so much that it bled.
Her eyes met mine over his shoulder. A whimper left her again, but his hand slammed over her throat once again. He squeezed with more and more pressure, her mouth gaping open for oxygen. As he gripped tighter, his hips jerked even harder. He was getting off on it. Then she started to thrash around—she couldn’t get any air.
He squeezed harder.
When her eyes started to glaze over, I saw a flash of something in them. It was meant for me. I knew it. And my hand held even tighter to the gun as I lifted it in the air.
I felt his gurgle of release before I heard it. I felt it in the air, through the floor, through my roommate. It didn’t matter. I knew he was near to climaxing and nothing had ever disgusted me more, but my hand was steady as I held the glock. Then I removed the safety and I cleared my throat once.
He froze.
He didn’t look around. He should’ve, but he didn’t.
I waited—my heart starting to pound, but he just started thrusting once again.
“Jeremy.”
My voice was so soft, almost too soft, but he froze anyway and