by Kara Hart
Table of Contents
Emma Gallaway
Soren
Emma
Author’s Note
Michael
Emily Carter
Emily
Also by Kara Hart
Wrenched
A Small Town Mechanic Romance
Kara Hart
Kara Hart
Contents
Emma Gallaway
Soren
1. Emma Gallaway
2. Soren
3. Emma
4. Soren
5. Emma
6. Soren
7. Emma
8. Soren
9. Emma
10. Soren
11. Emma
12. Soren
13. Emma
14. Soren
15. Emma
16. Soren
17. Soren
18. Emma
19. Soren
20. Emma
21. Soren
22. Emma
23. Soren
24. Emma
25. Soren
26. Emma
27. Soren
28. Emma
29. Soren
30. Emma
31. Soren
32. Soren
Author’s Note
33. Michael
34. Emily Carter
35. Michael
36. Emily
37. Michael
38. Emily
39. Michael
40. Emily
41. Michael
42. Emily
43. Emily
44. Michael
45. Emily
46. Michael
47. Emily
48. Michael
49. Emily
50. Michael
51. Emily
52. Michael
53. Emily
54. Michael
55. Emily
56. Michael
57. Emily
58. Michael
59. Emily
Also by Kara Hart
Author’s Note
Emma Gallaway
“You’re hard,” I whisper.
His hands curl around my waist, clutching my hip from behind me. My eyes close, as he trails his fingers down the front of my thigh, toward my pelvis. He leans over my back and grabs my chin, lightly pushing it to the side. Now I have to face him. Now I have to fall into my own kind of obsession, the side of me I never let out. Our lips crush together. I taste him and I smile. He bites my lip and kisses upward at my nose.
He just showed up here. He simply came into town and brought a storm into my life. There are questions I want to know. There are things I ask myself everyday. What happened to him before that day?
Whenever I press, he gets angry.
“You’re hard,” I repeat, lips trembling. I feel so small when I’m with him. He stares at me like a piece of meat, as if he’s deciding where to start first.
“You want it?” he asks. It’s barely even a question. He knows I want it. He knows how long I’ve tortured myself with the idea. I thought I could hold back, but here I am. Drunk. And I’ve got a better idea.
“I want it,” I whisper. I cough when my voice starts to shake. With another wave of confidence, I say, “I do. Really fucking bad.”
“How bad?” he asks. “I want you to show me.”
I’m never usually nervous, but he makes me nervous. This man is dangerous. Take one look at him and you’ll know it. I guess that’s why I’m here. Sometimes, you bite the apple if temptation comes your way. I keep my eyes low to the ground and suddenly realize I’ve found my snake.
“Give it to me,” I say.
But before he does, his hands fold under each curve of my body. He cups each breast, feeling his way over my nipples. His hand falls down my body and he touches my pussy and looks into my eyes. He parts my lips and smiles.
“God, you’re wet,” he moans. His voice is dark and dirty, like it’s been dragged in mud and tar, and left to soak in a barrel the past twenty years.
I shouldn’t be doing this. This man has stories. And stories aren’t for the good women. I don’t want to know what he’s seen, but my energy pushes him toward me. His palm rises up to meet my face. I take him in my hand. His cock is hard and rigid, and too thick for me. He has to be at least nine inches.
I muster up every ounce of courage when I see how determined he is. “Finally. I get to feel you,” he says. I look back down at how big he is. He smiles.
“I want you to have me any way you want,” I tell him. “You can be rough with me if you want.”
I close my eyes. My heart is beating so fucking fast. I’ve never done it like this before, but I want to please him. I want him to know me, to find a part of me no one was supposed to let out.
I try to swallow, but my mouth is completely dry. I look back at him, biting my lips.
I want this. I want this more than he can imagine. The fear sits well with lust and anticipation.
His hands fall to my hips as he places me down on the bed how he wants me. I’m on all fours, arching my back. I look behind me at him, before I feel him penetrate me, “Nice and slow,” he moans. My lips curl around him. He thrusts in deep, whispering, “Now, it’s all yours, strawberry.”
But for how long am I really his?
I exhale longingly. “I hope so.”
Soren
Prologue: Soren
Weeks earlier…
There’s nothing left for me here now. The world has come undone. I’m never the one to stop it from bowing, but I can understand why it does. I leave when I have to. That’s what men have to do sometimes. We leave when there are no other options left for us. As my friend lies in a pool of his own blood, I stare down at his body and shed a single tear.
And I scream.
There’s no hope in a world that’s come undone. There’s no forward and there is no going back. I’m stuck in a life of loneliness, all because I witnessed the unthinkable. How could it have happened? How the fuck could I allow something this low to happen?
I take off and head for Colorado. I head for the forest, where I can disappear forever. Where there’s crime, there’s punishment. Only, the bad don’t ever get their sentence.
I don’t care much for dwelling on the unexpected. I never expected anyone to give me any handouts. So, if I have to go, I’ll go. But I’m taking this shotgun with me. And I’m holing up until they find me.
…because men like them always find a way. But I’m not going down without a fight. By the time they come through my door, I’ll pulverize them. I’ll send them to hell and back. Mark my words: a storm is coming and it can’t be stopped.
Emma Gallaway
“Come on, Mom. We have to go! Our Uber is here,” I call out across the hallway. She comes around the corner and smiles, holding a box of old memories. She kisses my shoulder and walks out the front door.
“This house will miss you,” she says. “I can’t believe you’re finally moving out.”
“You say that as if it’s a bad thing,” I laugh, knowing I’ve sort of overstayed my welcome. I thought that during college, I could move out, but that proved nearly impossible. Now, with a degree in my hand, I’ve finally found a job that fits. An editor at Johannson Publishing. The one catch is that it’s in the middle of fucking nowhere in Colorado. Coming from Los Angeles, this is a huge jump.
“You know you can stay here as long as you want.” She gives me that sweet motherly look. “But I think this is going to be big, Emma. Denver is an amazing city. You’re going to love it.”
“I don’t know,” I sigh, feeling my stomach shift. “Denver kind of seems boring. I k
now it’s a big city and all, but they’ve got me staying in a house that’s way outside the city. Budget cuts, they said. I’m in the forest, Mom.”
“Well, you’re just going to have to learn some survival skills then,” she laughs and puts the box in the Uber car. I look back at the house I grew up in and get choked up for a second. I close my eyes and turn away. My mom grabs the box of stuff from my hands and puts it in the other seat.
She says, “Really, though. I think this could be life changing. You never know what can happen.”
“I guess so.” I shrug. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m excited. But I’m not waiting for any miracles to happen. This is very low level.”
I hug my mom and actually feel the tears start welling up. I can’t hold back. I cry a little. We both do. This is the first time I’ve ever really left home for good. I can’t believe it’s taken me this long.
“Oh, honey,” she says. “You’re twenty-three now. This is a huge year for you.”
“Any more words of motherly wisdom?” I wipe the tears from my face.
“Make the most of it,” she says. “Work hard, take chances, and fall in love.”
“Fall in love?” I laugh. “I don’t think so.”
“Have fun, baby. I love you,” she says, closing the door. I roll down the window and smile.
“Love you too, Mom,” I sigh.
“And don’t forget to call your old mother!” she laughs. I wave her goodbye and watch as she walks into the house.
I close my eyes and try and picture my life. I’ll have my own desk, my own cubicle, and a team of likeminded people. She’s right. This is an exciting time of my life and I’m going to make the most of it.
“Let’s see. We’re going to the bus station?” the driver asks me. “You on a trip or something?”
“Not quite.” I smile. “I’m headed to my new home.”
Soren
“Don’t you fucking die on me, you piece of shit,” I mutter under my breath. The engine to my old Ford sounds like it’s spitting up chunks of tar. Every so often, the brakes feel like they’re shifting on their own and the truck slows to a near halt, only to start moving fast again. I’ve got miles to go and I just need my baby to keep chuggin’ along.
It makes a spurting noise, as if something just blew in the engine. “Dammit!” I scream, hitting the steering wheel. The truck slows to a complete stop and smoke fizzles up from the front. The transmission is done on this thing. I knew I should have fixed it weeks ago, but I thought I had time.
“Son of a bitch,” I sigh, getting out of the truck. No use in checking the damn thing. I don’t have any spare parts, anyway.
My boots click against the asphalt. In the distance, the sun is peeking its head up from the horizon. I can almost touch home base. I can see it in the distance. Just thirty miles to go. I’ll have to leave the damn thing on the side of the road and walk the rest of the way.
I grab my one bag of things and start walkin’. There’s no direction, but forward. Cars pass by me and I keep moving at a snail’s pace. Blood. All I’m thinking about is the blood. The bottoms of my shoes are still sticky from stepping in it. He was my best friend and they killed him, all for nothing.
I always kept my distance from that kind of shit. Crime. I never wanted anything to do with that, but I wasn’t naïve. I knew I’d cross it sooner or later. In my line of work, it’s bound to happen.
So when they came in with their packages and their suits, I knew I had to comply. If I didn’t, my body would be delivered to the world with a plethora of bullet wounds. Again, I’m not stupid. All in all, I’m just a mechanic with a whole lot of bad luck. Plain and simple.
I get about ten miles on my own, until I need to rest on the side of the road. Behind me, I hear the rumbling of a small engine coming up behind me. “Great,” I sigh when I see the outline of a young woman driving. If no one has stopped to pick a guy like me up, I doubt this woman will. I’m not out to hurt anyone, but I guess I don’t look too friendly, covered in engine grease. I quickly check my wallet to see that I have about twenty dollars on me. Maybe she’ll take it.
I go ahead and flag her down, walking into the middle of the road. She reluctantly stops, but honks her horn to get me out of the way. When I don’t budge, she rolls the window down. “Excuse me, but I have to get through,” she says, lowering her sunglasses. She’s the kind of girl who doesn’t give two shits about a guy like me, the kind of girl who brings in her Jeep and expects it to be finished in an hour.
But she’s hot as hell, and that’s what gets me the most. Girls like her always ignore guys like me. “Look, here. I’ve got about twenty dollars in my hand,” I say. “Now, I hate to even ask because I know a girl like you might have trouble trusting a guy like me. But my truck broke down back about ten miles. It’s hot as hell out here and I gotta get into town. If you help me out, I’ll give you this twenty and I’ll take you out to dinner. Anything you want. I promise.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “You’re right,” she says. “I don’t really trust you.”
She leans out of her car further, and I catch a glimpse of the side of her tit. I feel my cock start to grow inside my jeans and I turn away in an attempt to bring myself back down to earth. She’s fucking beautiful, dammit. Of course she doesn’t trust me. I’m a no-good, bastard with blood caked on my shoes.
“Pardon me.” I smile. “It’s no trouble. I’ll just keep walking.”
I turn around and head toward town. I figure it’ll only be another three hours or so until I make it there. ‘Course, my house is a little far from the city center, so that might take another hour. And then I’ll have to get a tow truck out to get my vehicle. So be it. It’s better than having a gun pointed at your face.
“Wait,” I hear her call out. I turn around, shocked. “I saw your truck back there. It looked like it was in pretty bad shape, so I guess you’re not lying, huh?”
“Never told a lie in my life,” I lie.
She turns serious. “You touch me and I crash the car,” she says.
“I’ll keep my hands in my pockets. I swear,” I say.
“Alright,” she motions to the side door. “Get in.”
Emma
When I pick up this low-life, I don’t know what I’m thinking. He’s literally covered in grease and what seems to be dark red engine fluid. Not to mention, he smells like a mixture of cologne and gasoline. When I see his disappointment and deep anger for the world as he turns away to walk to town, I really should keep driving. Still, it’s his eyes that sold me. They’re deep and longing, like he knows something more than the rest of the world.
“So, what’s your deal?” I ask him.
“You don’t need to know,” he says.
I knew this guy was going to be a dick. I glance to his hands, which rest on his crotch. I clear my throat when he notices that I’m accidentally staring.
“I picked you up,” I say, annoyed.
“And I’m giving you money. It’s a fair trade,” he says, staring out the window.
“I don’t need your money,” I tell him angrily. I start to slow down the car. “And if you’re going to be an asshole to me, you can get out now.”
“Feisty,” he laughs and looks at me. He stares at my shirt, and I realize that two buttons are open. I quickly button them up and cover myself.
“You’re a real jerk,” I find myself saying.
“I don’t mind being a jerk,” he says. “It’s better than being a hoity-toity city girl.”
I actually start laughing, but it’s the kind of laughter you give when something really pisses you off. “City girl?!” I exclaim. “You have no idea how I grew up, asshole. I worked hard to get here.”
“Settle down,” he smiles. “I’m just messing with you. I’m sure you did work hard.”
“Is that some kind of joke?” I ask him. I glance at the tattoos on his arms and swallow hard. He’s probably around twenty-nine, I’m guessing, and his body is rock solid, lik
e he lives at the gym or something. His eyes are dark and he’s got a perfect five o’clock shadow. Okay, he’s hot. I’ll admit it. It doesn’t take away from the fact that he’s a total prick.
“No joke,” he says. “Did you just finish college?”
I cough awkwardly. “Yeah, actually,” I say.
“Your mother proud?” he asks.
“Very,” I give a faint smile when I think about my mother. “She’s the one who encouraged me to come out here.”
“That’s sweet,” he says, and he actually sounds honest saying that. “Seriously, you’re lucky.”
“You have a mother somewhere?” I ask him.
“Somewhere,” he nods. “Where, I have no idea. But she’s out there. I can feel it.”
“I’m sorry for asking,” I say.
The car is quiet as we pull up to the town. I still have about five miles to go, into the forest, before I find my new place, but I’m not about to sit in a car with Bigfoot any longer. I still can’t believe he called me a city girl.