by Violet Paige
I was the kind of man who protected his wife. Who did what he had to do for his family.
“Oh yes,” she rocked her hips into me. I grinned, watching her pleasure. She was about to come again. Fucking epic.
Sometimes I thought about where my life was a year ago. I was angry. I was pissed at life. Drinking my way through practices. Fighting with my coach. Ignoring my teammates. I didn’t give a shit about anyone but myself.
And now my whole life was in my arms. Everything I wanted was this woman. This goddess. The temptress who lured me to love.
My fingers curled through hers, tangling our hands together as I felt my release begin to seize me. I bit at her lips, sucking and kissing them while I came deep inside her. She whimpered with satisfaction, gripping my cock with one squeeze after another until the pulsing subsided for both of us.
I looked in her eyes. “Good morning.”
She laughed. “Good morning.”
Alexa
Five months pregnant. I looked down at my belly and rubbed my hand over it protectively. I was having a boy. A cute little rambunctious boy that was probably going to be more like his Daddy than his Mommy. Hopefully, he could sing better than his father though.
I laughed and took a sip of tea.
Luke walked up behind me and kissed me on the neck.
“I’m going to be late to camp.”
“I tried to tell you.”
He had showered after our morning in bed. But I felt amazing. Pregnancy sex was incredible. I loved it more than any other kind of sex we had had. Having Luke’s baby had changed everything for us.
I was going to be a mother. And I was a wife. I looked at the big rock on my left hand. There was no question who I belonged to. Luke would have tattooed his name on my back if I would let him.
“I’ll be back by dinner I guess.” He filled a travel mug with coffee.
“Ok. I’m going over the new cuts for the album today.”
“That’s today? Shit.”
“It’s fine. I’ve got it.”
I had moved my headquarters to Austin. Nashville wasn’t the right fit for me anymore. Once the Mandy Brown story had broken, I had never fit in the way I had before. America’s sweetheart had crashed and burned in front of everyone.
But I still had fans, and I could still make music. Austin seemed more accepting of what I wanted to say. I moved and never looked back.
When I found out I was pregnant I had just thrown up Thanksgiving dinner. Luke and I looked at each and we knew immediately it had nothing to do with turkey and everything to do with our future.
That day I had told him the truth. The day he promised to give me a baby—was the day it had happened. I think he was upset we didn’t get to practice more, but I loved the pregnancy sex. Even when I had morning sickness it was the one thing that made me forget how terrible I felt.
But I was past all of that now. I felt healthy and strong. I had music I loved. A husband I loved even more and a baby that was going to be spoiled to death.
“I don’t want you to overdo it.” Luke looked worried.
“I’m going to listen to music. Can’t possibly overdo it.” It was cute that he wanted to watch over me. “Helena will be there too so you can text or call her.”
“Good. I’m glad she finally moved down here so I’m not the only one keeping you in line.” He pinched my ass playfully.
“She does not keep me in line,” I explained.
He leaned down and kissed my belly. “Be good while I’m gone.”
I looked up at him. “You know you’re adorable.”
“I’m not adorable. Save those words for the baby. I am a football player. The Warrior QB.” He scrunched up his face.
“Right,” I teased. “Ok fine. Have fun with the camp kids. Tell Charlie and Linc hello.”
He groaned. “Don’t get me started on them.”
“I think they’re cute together. It was like they were meant for each other or something.”
I was a fan of my brother-in-law and manager seeing each other. My husband hadn’t warmed up to the idea.
He eyed me. I took the warning.
Eventually he would see how they complimented each other. That Charlie had a way of being a softer version of herself when we weren’t at work. Sometimes she and Linc would come over for dinner. I would catch him doing the little things I loved that Luke did. Kissing her neck. Refilling her drinks. Making sure she had a blanket if we were out by the campfire. Linc was always more openly warm and loving than his younger brother, but I knew I had cracked every wall Luke Canton put up.
I had torn them down with a sledgehammer. And we built new walls together. The ones that sealed us inside a world with just the two of us and our baby. I knew when he asked me to marry him the road was going to be harder before it got easier.
Charlie had to work some kind of witchcraft to convince the Warriors to let the fallout from my scandal blow over. But she did it.
The biggest turning point came when she convinced me to do an exclusive one-time interview with Sports Now. A country star had never done anything like that before. Sports fans loved music, sure, but they weren’t my audience.
But her idea was brilliant. The Warrior fans rallied around me when they realized how quickly I had been slaughtered in the Nashville press. It made Luke instantly likeable that he stood by me. Even more that he asked me to marry him.
“Can we have them over for dinner?” I suggested. “And Helena and James?”
“Are we running some kind of match-making business on the side?” he groaned.
I looked at him from the corner of my eye. “It’s family. And friends. And if they all end up hooking up there is nothing we can do about it.” I shrugged my shoulders.
“Fuck,” he growled. “James is going to think I’ve adopted him or some shit.”
“Love you, babe.” I smiled. “I’ll get everything ready. You just show up with beer and your brother.”
“Love you too.” He snaked an arm around my waist.
I inhaled sharply. His eyes raked over my lips and I knew what was coming next. It didn’t matter that we were married. It didn’t matter he had kissed me so many times it wasn’t possible to count. All that mattered was that he stole my breath every time he did it.
His mouth covered mine and I moaned softly as his tongue slipped between my lips, curling with expert flicks.
He eyed me. “If you didn’t invite all these damn people over tonight I could take that kiss a lot further when I got home.”
I pulled his lips back to mine, clinging to his neck, begging for more. The passion rolled between us. The fire stirred under my skin.
“Fuck, Alexa,” he whispered.
I looked into his eyes, trying to steady myself. God, he made me spin. He lit every fuse I had.
“Ten minutes?” I asked.
He growled, but I knew exactly how we would spend the next ten minutes. I smiled at him as he lifted me on the kitchen counter.
He would love me until we both drowned in our fever. And when he was done and I let him walk out of my arms, I would stroll to the front window to watch him drive toward the city.
I never would have thought the first time I drove to this ranch in the middle of the night that this would be the place I would raise my family. I thought it was a bachelor pad. The home of an egotistical womanizer. And maybe back then it was. But now it was where Luke and I loved each other.
It was where he whispered dirty things in my ear that made me quiver with want. It was where we stayed up all night and binge-watched TV shows. It was where we decorated the nursery for our baby. And invited our friends to be a part of what we had built together.
It was the place where my husband could make me come one more time on the kitchen counter before he left for work. Where I could tell him I loved him. Where we made our future. The walls were filled with music and football. Sports and art. Love.
I didn’t miss Nashville. I didn’t miss the mans
ion with the infinity pool, or my five-car garage. This was where I was meant to be. Because every time Luke was home I knew I was with the other half of my heart.
For the next ten minutes everything else would fall away. I would be his and he would be mine.
“You drive me completely crazy, you know that?” His gaze pierced me.
I nodded. “You drive me crazier.” My chest heaved with anticipation.
“Let’s make it fifteen, Mrs. Canton.” The hunger filled his gaze and I knew I had stoked more than I realized.
I bit my bottom lip. I had it so bad for my husband. For Luke Canton. For the man who had turned my life into a perfect country love song.
Thank you for reading Turn Over! Check out my other books on my Amazon page.
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Naughty Notes
Y’all, Luke and Alexa’s story has been with me for so long I can’t believe I’m actually finished writing their HEA. Handing characters over is not the easiest thing to do. I get used to them. They become a part of my world—I’m not kidding. I wake up wondering how Alexa would handle something. I see something I know would completely piss Luke off and it makes me laugh. This is what happens to writers. We get in deep!
But I have to let them go and give them over to you so you can fall in love just like I did. So many people helped me work through this story and pushed me when I was worried I wouldn’t be able to get it right. Because that’s what matters to me—writing something that makes the readers feel. Something fun and sexy with twists of emotions here and there. And who are we kidding … we want that super hot guy. We want Luke Canton! I’ll let you in on a secret … Texas guys are hot. Beyond hot.
I have to share this memory because it seriously shapes my love for Texas guys. One of my all-time favorite nights when I lived there included this guy I was seeing. He was an artist, loved to two-step, had his share of tattoos, played baseball, loved country music, and was broody as hell. Oh, and the longest most beautiful eyelashes I have ever seen on a guy. He was not doting or super romantic—nothing like that, but one night he led me outside with a huge pile of blankets and spread them out in the backyard. He had a few of those famous Texas beers and we hung out and watched shooting stars and drank beer. It was simple, sweet, and just one of those moments a girl doesn’t forget.
Somewhere in the back of my head I think Luke would do the same thing for Alexa.
Seriously, everyone involved in this book (you know who you are) you rock! Thank you! I couldn’t do it without my family, friends, and the super awesome readers who have supported me this year. Thank you, thank you, thank you!
Resist
Copyright © 2017 by Violet Paige
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
1
The only thing I could hear was the echo of my heels hitting the concrete. They made a sharp sound each time I took a step, a distinctive click-clack noise that could only be made by the point of a thin stiletto. Slipping them on this morning had made me feel confident. I called them my power heels. I was taller—stronger even with them on. But now I realized how loud my footsteps were. How they drew attention to my every move.
It was strange how things could be cocooned in a tunnel of noise while at the same time, amplifying everything around me—especially the echo of my stride.
I nervously flattened the thin belt around my waist and looked for signs for the exit. I stopped, scanning the arrows pointing right and left, and took a deep breath of the stale tunnel air. My hands started to prickle with uneasiness. What if I was late? What if I missed the next shuttle?
Everywhere I looked the women wore walking shoes. Not me. I was the newbie. The transplant. The rookie who made the mistake of wearing the highest heels I had in my closet because they matched my dress. On my first day I wanted to look like I belonged.
Instead, I didn’t. I looked like a novice D.C.’er.
Tomorrow I would shove my heels into my messenger bag like the other locals. I had walked down three flights of stairs from our rooftop apartment and another ten minutes to make it to the red line metro. We lived in a historic building without an elevator. It was charming, but the stairs were a pain in the ass.
Every part of me wanted to reach down and throw the heels in the nearest trash can, but then what? Was I considering showing up barefoot? I had to keep walking.
The metro I had ridden to the Tenleytown stop whizzed behind me, kicking up a hot wind that engulfed my arms and legs as I walked toward the escalator. I could already feel the fabric of my dress sticking to the creases in my skin. I hadn’t accounted for the August heat when I’d dressed before six.
Greer had left for work before I’d fixed my first cup of coffee. I hadn’t been able to consult her on my choice. She would have probably warned me about the shoes. I couldn’t believe how early she had to arrive at her office. The few days since I had moved in she was gone before I was awake.
No one else seemed to notice how ill-suited I was for traveling the subway system. They were too busy staring at their smart phones and racing to their jobs. A man brushed past me, taking the spot ahead of me on the staircase.
I grabbed the railing quickly so he didn’t knock me off balance. He either hadn’t seen me, or hadn’t given a shit that he had bumped me.
The escalator was one more thing that didn’t agree with my heels. I teetered on the ridges of the metal steps, pushing my balance on the balls of my feet. It didn’t help that I was holding a cup of coffee and trying to keep my bag on one shoulder.
I exited the metro and turned for the spot where the bus would pick me up. D.C. was blistering hot in August. I stood at the stop, praying the shuttle would arrive quickly. I could feel the sweat trickle down the backs of my knees.
I wanted to make a statement today. First impressions mattered. I deserved this position. I’d earned it. I wasn’t too young or green. My blond hair didn’t drop my IQ points. My southern background didn’t preclude me from intelligent discussions. Without fail I heard the same thing from people I met for the first time.
“Are you really twenty-eight? No. You could pass for twenty-one.”
I always got carded at bars. I was used to it. My friends laughed at me. It wasn’t embarrassing until the time I met my former boss for drinks and the waiter asked him what his daughter wanted to order. I had been mortified, mostly because he was forty.
Today’s first impression mattered, and mine was going to be nothing but a wrinkled, mess of a sweaty dress I bought on sale and swollen feet I hobbled in on to my first staff meeting.
I didn’t want to question my decision to move to D.C. I didn’t want the nervousness to strike again. This was where I was supposed to be. I took a sip of coffee and waited for the shuttle. The liquid churned in my stomach. First day jitters were normal.
I never expected to be on this path. But here I was, changing the course of my career after a brutal two years in private practice. Instead of practicing law I was going to learn how to teach it. I didn’t know how to supervise students, or develop curriculum but I would. This program was exactly what I needed. So why did I feel so nauseatingly nervous?
I exhaled when I saw the bus round the corner. I stepped back as the doors opened outward. The driver looked straight ahead.
“Good morning.” I smiled.
“Mmmhmm.” He closed the door and hit the gas before I found a seat.
The shuttle lurched forward as my bag dropped off my shoulder and I lost control of my coffee. The cup hit the floor, separating from the lid as it splattered at my feet.
“Shit,” I whispered.
“Shit. Shit. Shit.”
I refastened the lid and watched in horror as the spi
ll spread from one end of the shuttle to the other. Oh God, this was a disaster.
There was a man at the back of the bus reading his phone. He never looked up or offered to help.
I looked around for something I could use.
“Excuse me.” I walked to the driver. “Do you have any paper towels or anything? I spilled some coffee. I’m so sorry.”
“You can’t cross the red line,” he snapped.
“Oh, sorry.” I shrank back over the mark on the floor, watching the coffee dry on the tips of my heels. “Do you have something I could use? It was an accident.”
“We’re about to stop on campus. Hold on.” He seemed aggravated. I couldn’t tell if it was from the spill or because I had bothered him while he was driving.
I sat in the seat closest to him, waiting for him to hand me something, anything I could use.
The shuttle came to an abrupt halt. I looked out of the window and saw students walking across campus. Without turning around the driver handed a roll of paper towels to me over his right shoulder.
“I gotta keep a schedule,” he smacked.
“It will only take a second,” I explained.
The other passenger jogged down the stairs and walked off.
My fitted dress made it hard to kneel to the floor. I did the best I could, running the paper towels over the aisle with my foot.
I gathered up the trash and tossed it in the wastebasket by the door.
“Thank you. Sorry about the spill.” I carefully stepped onto the sidewalk.
“Maybe next time don’t bring your coffee on here.” He nodded at me before closing the door in my face.
By the time I found the conference room, there was standing-room only. Holy hell. I wasn’t expecting it to be packed. Or to be in a room with this many other Practioners-in-Residence. There had to be twenty-five of us packed into a room meant for a meeting of ten people. My stomach sank. Until now, I had no idea the pool of competition would be this large.