“You threw it all away. After what you did to me . . .” My hands trembled and my legs felt weak. I staggered against the wall for support. My body burned and my skin prickled. I could feel my heart beating rapidly. I wanted to shout, cry, push, shove, and throw my hands up in defeat all at the same. It was a strangely familiar feeling. Like I had sunk back into an old routine I’d learned to break.
And then I realized: after two years, we were arguing again.
“It was out of line, I know. I won’t do it again, I promise. I’ve been working on myself these years we’ve been apart.” He smiled in frustration. “You’ve got to listen to me.”
How many times had he made promises before? He’d always broken them. He wouldn’t take his meds. He wouldn’t see his therapist. I’d wanted to believe in him time and time again. A part of me even wanted to believe him now. That he’d finally changed for better. But instinct won out. “No, Marty. No.”
“Please, Kristen,” he said softly. He pulled his hand out from behind his back. Surprised, I took a step back. In his hand was a bouquet of blue flowers. “I brought you these. Bluebonnets, your favorite.”
I was shocked. He’d remembered an offhand comment I’d made when we had visited the botanical gardens while we were still dating. He’d asked me which flower was my favorite and I’d said the bluebonnet because it reminded me of Texas and the color matched his stunning blue eyes.
My heart stopped in my chest. The anger, frustration, fear—all of it disappeared for a moment.
He stepped forward and extended his open palm through the narrow opening of the door. I could’ve shut the door before, but now if I tried it would mean shutting it on his hand.
“I’ll never hurt you again,” he said softly.
“Marty, I—”
His fingers nearly touching my hand at my necklace, I became painfully aware of my pinky throbbing. I didn’t know what to do. It was happening all over again. The helplessness. The frustration. The desire to please. The hope that things would be different this time. The fear that they wouldn’t be.
Then his fingers touched my hand. The next moment happened too quick for me to process. When my brain caught up, I saw Marty toppling across the floor. A short but muscular body in a striped polo had tackled him to the ground scattering blue flowers across the hallway.
“Bernie!” I screamed, recognizing his orange tan.
Where did he come from? What the hell was he doing? What was going on?
“Get off me!” Marty cried as he struggled to free himself from Bernie’s bearhug from behind.
The two men rolled across the dusty hallway carpet, wrestling for dominance, kicking the ground, kicking the wall, crushing flowers in their wake. Bernie slid his bearhug high and managed to wrap his arm around Marty’s neck for a chokehold. Marty grasped at Bernie’s arm trying to pry it away but the arm was too strong and muscular; within moments, Marty’s face became red from lack of circulation.
Growling and gritting his teeth, Marty pushed himself off the floor with Bernie still on his back hovering a foot off the ground. Marty threw his back against the wall, slamming Bernie so hard it felt like the whole apartment building shook. It was enough to loosen Bernie’s grip and Marty took advantage of the opportunity. He adjusted his chin and bit down on Bernie’s forearm causing Bernie to release the hold. Marty staggered away but not before kicking Bernie in the face, making him reel backward.
“You fucking moron, messing with me,” Marty cried, gasping for air. He faltered on his feet fighting against dizziness to regain his balance while Bernie leaned against the wall recovering from the damage he’d taken, spitting out blue petals from his mouth—and a tooth—in the process.
A tall man with long, toned arms swiftly moved behind Marty like a ninja and grabbed one of his arms and pulled it behind his back while twisting his wrist. It was professional, like something a police officer would do. How did Kurt know how to do that?
I unlatched the chain on the door and rushed into the hallway—not caring about how I looked.
“Stand back, Kristen.” Kurt yelled. “We’re not going to let him hurt you. We’re here to protect you.” Kurt pushed Marty down onto the ground and Bernie jumped on top of Marty’s back to hold him still with his weight.
“W-what?” I stammered. I had no idea what was going on. It was all happening too fast.
“Kristen, I wasn’t going to hurt you!” Marty shouted from his face-down position pinned beneath Bernie.
“He wasn’t going to do anything,” I cried.
“It’s our job—” Kurt tightened Marty’s arm behind his back, making him yelp. “To protect you.”
I shook my head in disbelief, frantically trying to grasp the situation. “I don’t understand.”
“Please. Get back inside the apartment Ms. Daley,” said Bernie whose nose and mouth were bleeding from Marty’s kick.
“Why? How did you know my last name?”
I was about to ask more questions when I heard footsteps bounding up the stairwell. Had somebody in one of the other apartments heard the commotion and reported it? Was it the police?
An imposing figure in elegant dress clothes appeared at the top of the stairs. His breathing was fast and his dark eyes were fierce.
Vincent.
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The Forever Series Reading Order
The Forever series currently follows three different couples. You can choose which couple you start reading about, but for each couple there is an order to their story.
Forbidden Surrender (Vincent & Kristen 1)
Secret Surrender (Vincent & Kristen 2)
Beautiful Surrender (Vincent & Kristen 3)
Wrecked (Hunter & Lorrie 1)
Rescued (Hunter & Lorrie 2)
Reckless (Jax & Riley 1)
Fearless (Jax & Riley 2)
Wrecked (The Forever Series)
A New Adult Romance Novel by USA Today Bestselling Author Priscilla West
“There would be no happy ending for us. He was too damaged. I was too broken.”
Two years ago, Lorrie’s mother was murdered. But that wasn’t the end of it. Reeling from the tragedy, Lorrie’s father spiraled into alcohol, depression, and finally suicide.
The two most important people in Lorrie’s life are both gone but she’s still alive.
Trying to recover from the tragedy, Lorrie returns to campus, ready to pick up the pieces of her life. All Lorrie wants is to get back to “normal.”
Then she meets Hunter. The man, the legend, “The Hammer.”
Hunter is a cage fighter who takes on every fight like he’s got nothing to lose. His life is a tangled mess of girls, booze, and fist fights. And while it may seem like he’s got a devil-may-care attitude, he’s fighting a private cage-match with a monster he can’t defeat.
Lorrie knows that Hunter is exactly the type of guy she should stay away from, especially in her fragile state, but Hunter has other ideas.
As Hunter and Lorrie grow closer together, will they be able to overcome their pain and heal each other? Or will they both end up wrecked?
Wrecked (The Forever Series)
An Exclusive Teaser from Wrecked
When I stepped into the living room, my jaw dropped at the sight of him naked.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” I quickly turned away but not before the sight of him was seared into my memory. Images of carved muscles and exotic tattoos danced across my mind.
“Wow, that was quick. I thought you’d be in there longer.” I heard him laugh and the subsequent thud of his drenched sweats being thrown into a corner ha
mper. “You can turn around. I’m not naked, ya know. Unless you consider being shirtless as naked.”
I turned around and noticed he had a white towel around his waist. His torso was still fully bare though. Tattoos ran along the side of his chest and extended down his arm. They were mostly a mix of tribal designs but one tattoo stood out for me. A picture of a large hammer was boldly etched on his upper arm. An unwelcome desire flittered in my stomach as I imagined running my fingertips over the inked lines.
I wasn’t opposed to seeing him shirtless at all. Not. At. All.
I forced myself to make eye contact with him, but was surprised to find him not doing the same. His eyes were wide, and they were roaming down and up my freshly showered body.
When his eyes finally met mine, his lips curved wickedly. “You clean up well.”
My cheeks flushed. “Thanks,” I replied, slightly uncomfortable. “I feel a lot better without all that lake gunk on me. I really appreciate the clothes, although they might be a little big for me.” I gestured to the jeans that were threatening to fall down my hips.
He looked me over again, dark eyes subtly lingering at certain parts: thighs, chest, lips. “No, you look good—real good.” His hand gestured to the couch. “Have a seat. I’ll get you some warm tea and a belt. I can get you back to your place after I wash up.”
He grabbed my wet clothes from me and set them down on the kitchen counter while I took a seat on his couch. I thought it’d be a relief to sit down and relax but I found myself tense and restless, wondering who this guy was and what I’d gotten myself into by agreeing to come to his place.
He went into the kitchen and brought me a cup of tea. It smelled fragrant and spicy and the hot mug felt good in my hands, calming my nerves temporarily. I sipped slowly, enjoying the fluid warming up my chest as he went into his bedroom to search for a belt. Moments later, he returned.
“Thank you so much,” I said as he handed me the belt and sat down on the edge of the coffee table inches away from me.
He, in his shirtless glory, carefully watched me bring the cup of tea to my lips. I brought the edge to my mouth but didn’t drink, too distracted by the desire to touch my lips against the soft skin of those hard pecs right in front of me. I flicked my gaze to his to avoid staring at his chest. The concerned way he studied me with those dark irises matching the color of his damp hair was making me squirm in my seat. Not to mention the peripheral view of that towel around his waist was approaching scandalous. He didn’t cross his legs like I would if I were wearing a skirt and I fought the urge to snag a glance down at that distinctly male area. But it was hard to resist. Was this what it was like to be on the other end of someone trying to cop a peek up your skirt?
“How’s the tea?”
His voice interrupted my thoughts and I hurriedly swallowed a big gulp that burned my throat going down. “Very good, thanks,” I choked. “I feel bad you had to go to so much trouble to make it though. Sorry for being such a burden.”
“. . . Polite too.” He grinned. “Don’t worry about it. It was no trouble at all.” His demeanor was almost the opposite of what it had been at the lake—it was relaxed and warm now. But then again so was mine. The feeling of almost dying must be wearing off for both of us.
“Are you going to have some yourself?” I asked, uncomfortable with how he was just sitting there. Right there. Half naked in front of me with a ‘V’ shaped muscle around his pelvis tempting my eyes to look down to where the slanted lines met. Wasn’t he going to take his shower?
“Probably in a bit.”
Seeing him in no hurry to leave, I wracked my brain for a conversation topic. “So . . .” I looked down at the shirt I was wearing and pinched the lettering to try to end the silence. “Are you in the Air Force?”
He paused for a second longer than I was expecting. “No, I’m just a student. Senior, actually. You go to school here too?”
I nodded. “Yeah, sophomore.”
“Cool. So why did you come to campus so early?”
“I thought it’d be good to have some time by myself to prepare for the semester. You know, mentally prepare and all that.”
He nodded. “Alone time, yeah. Helps to work things out on your own sometimes. People can be stressful, especially at this school where people like to gossip. I swear it’s like every student’s minor here.”
I wondered if his comment was specifically directed toward me and my circumstances. Did he know who I was and my reputation? “Yeah, I’m not too interested in rumors. They’re often wrong anyway.” I shifted my legs and happened to briefly brush against his. I felt my nipples tighten from the unintentional intimate contact.
His eyes narrowed and he glanced at the offending leg. He looked at me for a while, apparently deep in thought. When his eyes glanced down at my chest, I saw an intense flicker in those dark irises—or was it a spark? “Haven’t met anyone here who doesn’t like gossip,” he said smoothly. “You do know you’re at Arrowhart right? Gossip is big here. It’s only normal that you’d be interested.”
“Yeah, I know,” I replied. And boy did I know. “But maybe I’m not normal.”
The smile he gave had an edge to it that made me uncomfortable and aroused at the same time. “I’d say so as well. Seeing imaginary cats and falling into frozen lakes isn’t exactly normal,” he teased, before his voice lowered intimately. “But then again, normal’s boring.”
A heated ache moved through me. Was it my imagination or was he flirting with me? It didn’t seem like he realized who I was. I noticed again how unusually neat the place was. Did he have a girlfriend that cleaned for him? Or his mom? “So do you live here by yourself?” My voice came out huskier than I intended and I cleared my throat, hoping he didn’t notice.
He smiled. “Yeah, I get plenty of alone time here.”
I found that difficult to believe given his devilish good-looks. It would be easier for me to believe if he’d said he had a ticket system for girls lining up outside his apartment door. Maybe even a BYOC policy—Bring Your Own Condom. That could explain the contents of his bathroom trash.
I forced another gulp down my throat, uncomfortable with how being so near him made me restless. “What do you like to do in your alone time?”
“In my alone time?” He cocked a brow and looked at me with curiosity.
I glanced at his sculpted chest because I couldn’t help myself. “Yeah, like when no one’s around, just in private.” I was thinking about how I liked to mope and draw in my alone time and was hoping to find common ground between us. He probably didn’t sit on icy bridges in his alone time but maybe he did something relatable so I could convince him I wasn’t just some depressed girl trying to kill herself.
A glint in his eye, his grin widened. “What do I like to do in my alone time?” he repeated, suggestively. “Oh, just the usual stuff guys do when they’re by themselves. You know, normal stuff.”
Oh no. Was I flirting with him? I’d unintentionally said something that could’ve been interpreted as a reference to his masturbation routine. God, how awkward. This was not my lucky day. I glanced at his towel and noticed a towering bulge that hadn’t been there before. My face flushed. Shit, did I do that?
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