by Marni Mann
“This water is a little warmer than the Atlantic,” she said.
“That wouldn’t have mattered when we were kids.”
“Are you kidding? Ice water wouldn’t have stopped us.” She rubbed her feet over my ass. “Would you have held me like this? To keep me warm?”
I groaned. “Shit, Kyle, I wanted to. I always wanted to.”
“I know.” She circled her arms around my neck and kissed me. “I’ve been thinking about jobs and what I’m going to do when I get out there.”
“You don’t have to work. I’ll take care of you.”
She tightened her grip. “I do have to work, and I want to work, but thank you for saying that.” She dipped her head back to get all of her hair wet. “I’m thinking I want to start using canvases again, get back into creating real art. Anthony wouldn’t let me sell any of my designs at the shop, so I stopped painting. I think he feared I would make a name for myself, and the shop would come under investigation. But, now, I have the time to do it, and I don’t have anyone telling me I can’t.”
“I’ll build you a studio in our condo.”
“You don’t have to. I can paint in the kitchen or something.”
“There are five extra bedrooms, Kyle. I think it’s okay if we convert one of them into a studio.”
“Five?”
I nodded.
“And a plane? And two drivers? Wow, things have really changed.”
“For the both of us.” I lifted a hand, so I could grip her face. “You’ll get used to it, I promise. It’ll be overwhelming at first. But just at first.”
“Will I be mingling with the bosses’ wives?”
“None of them live in Vegas. But, when I fly back to Jersey every few months, you’ll be coming with me, and you’ll be mingling with them then.” As I moved us a little deeper into the water, she clung to me even tighter. “I have something I want you to listen to, but only when you’re ready.”
A line appeared between her brows. “What is it?”
“I recorded a voice message from Anthony.” I didn’t like her expression, so I cut her off before she could say anything. “Look, I can’t fix what he did, I can’t make it better, and I sure as hell can’t rewind what happened. But he owed you an apology, and I made sure you got one.”
It took several seconds before she responded, “I’m not ready to hear it.”
“That’s okay. It’s there when you are.”
Her legs dropped from my waist, and she grabbed my hand. “I have something I want to show you.”
She led me out of the water and unfolded the towels, spreading them out next to each other. We both sat, and she reached into the cooler. “I got us lunch, but I’m really not in the mood for sandwiches. I’d much rather have this.” She handed me a plastic sleeve of powdered doughnuts. They were the same kind I’d bought when we were kids. “The ones you had made were good, but they were too fancy. These are my favorite.”
“Get over here.”
She laughed so hard as I grabbed her by the waist and pulled her onto my lap.
“How many packs of these did you get?” I asked.
“More than enough.”
“Enough for me to cover your pussy in powdered sugar and lick off every speck?”
“Oh, yes, there’s plenty for that.” She took out one of the doughnuts and popped it into my mouth, laughing again as I coughed out some of the sugar. “I thought about soul mates a lot when I was having that dream. The whole concept really and how I believe they’re revealed only once during our life.” She looked at me over her shoulder. “You’re my soul mate, Garin.”
I kissed the side of her neck, loving how the sun and the salt made her smell. “Do you want to tell me more about that dream?”
“No, not today. Today is all about the beach.”
I pressed my lips against her ear. “Tonight is all about the powdered sugar.”
“And tomorrow is all about Vegas,” she said. “But don’t worry; I’ll tell you sometime soon.”
As she looked out toward the water, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was leaving it behind—every threat Anthony had ever made, every rule, every bit of control. As long as I could help it, Florida was where it would all stay.
“I’m ready to get out of here.” She turned around to face me again. “And I’m ready to start my life with you.”
Forty-One
Kyle
We pulled up to the front of Garin’s hotel, a massive high-rise situated in the middle of the strip. The front was all glass. Deep blue lights shone onto the cars, illuminating the entrance. The brick pavers that lined the front were spotless. Everyone was so nicely dressed, everything so well-manicured.
Our doors were immediately opened by the valet attendants. “Welcome back, Mr. Woods,” one of them said.
Garin shook each of their hands. “This is my girlfriend, Kyle Lang,” Garin said to the men.
“Miss Lang,” each of them said as they shook my hand.
Garin pulled me closer to him and placed his hand on my lower back, escorting me to the front door. “Don’t get used to the Miss. It’s not going to last for long.”
I looked at him, my brows drawn together, my lips pursed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He smiled at me. “Mmm, I want to bite that lip right now.”
“Garin…”
His stare intensified. “You know exactly what that means.” He glanced at the doorman. “Javier, it’s nice to see you.”
“And you, Mr. Woods,” Javier replied back.
“This is Kyle,” Garin said. “She’ll be living with me now, so you’ll be seeing much more of her.”
“We’ll make sure she feels right at home, sir.”
I waved at Javier and thanked him, and I smiled as we stepped inside. I couldn’t hide how good all of this felt, having Garin so close, his hand on my body, having him introduce me to his staff, to finally be in his home.
A home that would now be mine.
And, although I’d only seen the entrance of the hotel, it felt more comfortable than my house ever had.
“Do you know all the names of everyone who works here?” I asked. “There must be hundreds of employees.”
“Some departments have a high turnover, so I don’t get a chance to learn them before they leave or get fired, but I know most of them.”
That impressed me.
So did the lobby. It was stunning, extremely contemporary, full of brightly colored glass chandeliers, exotic arrangements of flowers, and soft, shiny marble. I didn’t smell smoke even though I knew there was plenty of that in the casino in front of us. Crowds of people walked past us, congregated by the slot machines, or stood in front of the restaurant. But the space was so vast that it could handle all the people, which was good. I didn’t feel shut in at all.
“I’m going to show you the whole property a little later and take you to my office, so you can see where I work. But, first, I’m going to take you upstairs.”
He’d fucked me three times on the plane on the way here. The look in his eyes told me he wasn’t quite done with me. I loved that about him.
“Why do I get the feeling that I’m not going to be able to walk tomorrow?”
I’d learned that Garin really liked to take his time. His movements weren’t slow at all. They weren’t rushed. They weren’t half-assed. They were strong, rough, forceful, making sure I was constantly filled with a mix of sensations. But I never got his cock before I got his lips, his tongue, before he savored and licked every part of my body.
He leaned into my ear while he turned us down an empty hallway where we were finally alone. “You’re right about that, Miss Lang. You won’t be walking. Not after what I plan to do to your ass.”
He slapped it so hard that I yelped.
But I liked the pain.
He knew I liked it.
At the end of the hallway, there was a single elevator. Garin pressed the button and held me while we waited. I
t took a few seconds before the door opened, and a middle-aged woman walked off, carrying a bag of cleaning supplies.
“Your condo is all clean and ready for you, Mr. Woods,” she said with a heavy accent.
“Gracias, Isabella. Hiciste la cama con sábanas y cobijas nuevas?”
“Sí, señor,” she said, smiling at me as she walked past us.
I stared at Garin as we stepped inside the elevator, shocked at what I’d just heard. “You speak Spanish?”
He’d spoken it in the dream; he’d understood everything that Beard had said and translated it for me. But I didn’t know that, outside the dream, in real life, he was fluent. The two years of Spanish we had taken in high school hadn’t given us enough skills for a reply that lengthy. I couldn’t help but wonder where he’d learned it.
Garin placed his hand on the tablet that was embedded in the elevator wall. It read his fingerprints. A second later, he pulled his hand off and tapped the screen. It showed he had access to all the floors, but he selected PH.
“Garin? Will you answer me?”
He turned away from the tablet as the door shut, and the elevator began to rise. His eyes narrowed as he focused on my face. “Yes, Kyle, I speak Spanish now.”
He moved behind me, pressing his chest against my back, his hands circling around the top of my throat. That seemed to be his favorite spot to hold. He tilted my neck, so he’d have better access, and he kissed all the way down and across my shoulder. He ground his dick into my ass, eventually letting his hand slide to my pussy, swiping my clit before he brought it back up to my throat.
I moaned. The forcefulness of his movements, the way he was pushing into my ass, was such a turn-on.
“You want more?”
“Yes.”
“Fuck,” he hissed, “my soul mate wants more.”
My eyes popped open, not even realizing they had been closed. I’d called him that on the beach yesterday, but he hadn’t said it back to me. “I’m your soul mate?”
He didn’t answer me right away. He just held me tightly and kissed all around my neck. When he reached my ear, he pressed his lips really close and whispered, “I believe our soul mate is revealed only once during our life. Maybe it’s a glimpse of a stranger. Maybe it’s our best friend. The timing may not always be right. But, when they’re shown to us, we know it’s them. Then, life happens. We grow. We age. We develop scars. And we remember that glimpse. Some are lucky enough to spend the rest of their lives with that person. Some, like me, only have memories.”
I couldn’t breathe. My body was shaking, my knees on the verge of giving out. It wasn’t because his hands were on my throat or that he was holding me too tightly.
It was because those were my words he had spoken.
Words I had said while we were in that prison.
A prison that was supposed to be a dream.
And a dream that I’d had while I was in a coma.
“Now, you have more than just memories,” he said. “You have me. You have us. And, now, we have forever.”
His hands left my body, so I turned around to face him.
His eyes told me everything I needed to know.
And, when I opened my mouth to speak, nothing came out.
But something came out of his.
“Breathe, Kyle.”
Copyright © 2017 by Marni Mann
All rights reserved.
Visit my website at: www.MarniSMann.com
Cover Designer: Letitia Hasser, R.B.A Designs
Editor: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.com
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 and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
ISBN-13: 978-1543286137
I can still feel your hand in mine, the way you squeezed my fingers, and never let me go. I miss it. I miss you, Nana. So, so much.
Prologue
Tyler - Two Years Ago
Whenever I’d thought about the way I was going to die, I never believed I would be lucky enough for it to happen in my sleep or to have a heart attack and pass away within minutes. Whatever eventually took me, it would happen slowly. It would cause as much pain as possible. It wouldn’t be from natural causes.
Why?
When you committed horrendous crimes, those acts would catch up to you.
And they had.
I’d done so many unspeakable things to hundreds of innocent people.
As a result, my death was as gory and as gruesome as I’d imagined.
There was a knife. Blood. Swearing and screaming.
There was so much fucking pain.
I was alone when I took my last breath.
No one should be alone when they died.
But I was.
And the cause was self-inflicted. I’d slashed across my wrists, right along my veins.
I’d rather die my way than theirs.
The truth was, I’d had no other option. If I didn’t kill myself, they would have butchered me. Then, Jae would have spent the rest of his life looking for my murderer. I didn’t want that. I wanted to save him. I wanted him to move on from me and fall in love again.
He had a chance to escape all of this.
I didn’t.
It wasn’t just the blade that had hurt when I dragged it across my skin. The love I had for Jae hurt, too.
When we had fallen, we’d fallen hard. Fast. Deeply. Passionately.
It was a kind of love I hadn’t ever felt before. A kind I hadn’t known existed.
Just this morning, I had told him that I loved him. Those were the last words he would ever hear me say.
He would be able to keep those words inside his heart. He just wouldn’t be able to keep me.
Because, now, I lay in a pool of blood.
This was the end.
The end of Tyler Richens.
I wouldn’t have an obituary in the newspaper, but I knew what it would have said if I had one.
Tyler Richens, age twenty-two, died unexpectedly on January 14.
From St. George, Kansas, Tyler moved to San Diego, California, to attend college at the University of San Diego. She studied business with a concentration in international affairs.
She’s survived by Rick and Nancy Richens and four loving brothers.
The rest of the paragraph would have been filler—accomplishments from high school, a description of a job I hadn’t really had, that I’d traveled for leisure even though it was all work-related.
All lies.
My family couldn’t know about my real life. That was part of the deal I’d made.
But I’d broken part of that deal when I started dating Jae. He didn’t know how deep I was involved, how serious my job really was. He knew our relationship put my life in danger; he just didn’t know that it risked his, too.
It was all worth it.
Every second I had spent with him was worth it.
And he was worth dying for.
His last vision of me would be of my cold, bloody body on the floor of his bathroom—already long gone even though he didn’t want to believe it.
It wasn’t what I really wanted.
But it had to be this way. He had to see me. Feel me. He had to know and not question a thing.
God, he was holding me so hard.
He must think a grip as tight as the one he was using would bring me back. He yelled, like the words could pump air through my lungs and resuscitate me. He shook me, like it would cause my eyes to open.
I wished love could fix all the things I had done.
It wasn’t that eas
y.
Now, there was no turning back.
And there was no more wishing.
Wishes died when my breathing slowed.
But the wants lived.
Before he could read my note and carry my body out of the bathroom, I just wanted to run my fingers through his long, thick dark hair. I wanted to brush my cheek against his face. I wanted to tell him I loved him again.
As he wept into my neck, I couldn’t do any of those things.
Would he forgive me for killing myself? For ruining what we’d had?
I hoped so.
I hoped that, wherever I went after this, I would be able to watch over him. Protect him. While he moved on, I’d cling to what we’d once had.
Here, silently, I said good-bye.
He couldn’t feel my words, but they echoed from within my body.
Words of love, words of hope.
Words that begged for his forgiveness.
Our relationship was never supposed to happen.
But it’d ended up changing me. What I’d wanted back then was so different from what I’d wanted just yesterday.
It had caused this—the end.
Now, all I had was time.
Time to take you back to the beginning. To show you where it all had gone wrong.
But, to understand now, you would have to hear about then.
This wasn’t just my story.
This was our story.
One
Beard
I drove my hands into the whore’s hair and held the back of her head, so I could shoot my load of cum into her throat. Her eyes fucking glimmered when the last stream emptied onto her tongue. As her lips left my crown, she swirled that shit around in her mouth before swallowing it. Greedy bitch. She wanted every drop of it to herself instead of sharing it with the whore who knelt next to her.
The two girls had been taking turns deep-throating me. Then, the chick on the left had done some swivel shit with her tongue, and that was all it had taken for me to get off—some tongue-twisting and a wet, full mouth that sucked as hard as it bobbed.