Urges: Part Three (The Urges Series Book 3)

by Corgan, Sky

  “I'll take a Corona if they have one. Budweiser if they don't.”

  “You can't go wrong with Budweiser.” Zelma looks between us as if she's making a joke.

  “It's the one beer they have at every party I've ever been to,” Laura chimes in.

  “I'll take a water,” Mom tells Terry, sending her off to fetch our drinks.

  “So how have you been?” Laura asks me.

  “I've been fine.” I nod, scanning the crowd for Trent. He's nowhere to be seen. “The job I have now kind of sucks, but it pays the bills. I miss you guys.”

  “I heard that you could still come back if you wanted to.”

  I cringe a bit. It's nice that everyone wants me to come back, but I wish they would just drop it. I've made up my mind. I'm not going back. Ever. “Maybe someday,” I lie.

  “So when are we going to get to meet your boyfriend?” my mom asks. The fact that she just ratted out why we're really here makes me want to die of embarrassment.

  “Ah, so you haven't met Mister Beefcake yet?” Zelma wiggles her eyebrows, which only makes things worse. Apparently, it's no secret that Trent and I are a couple now, which is a bit of a relief.

  “Oh, I've met him. I just haven't really talked to him.”

  “I have to admit, I was surprised when I found out. Never saw that happening. You've got him by the balls though.” Zelma nudges me with her elbow, and I blush. Does she always have to be so crude? “He's making preparations for his big speech. I guess I should go get him for you.” There's a bounce in her step as she turns to walk away, heading towards the double doors that lead to the pool.

  “Did I miss anything?” Terry asks as she returns with our drinks, handing them out before popping the top on her beer. Budweiser it is.

  “Slim pickings?” My expression is sympathetic.

  “They had Bud, Bud Light, and Miller,” she replies before taking a long swallow of beer.

  “I don't much like beer.” Laura wrinkles her nose. Of course, she doesn't. If she did, she probably wouldn't be as tiny as she is.

  “I like that lady.” My mother stares out towards the pool, and it takes me a moment to realize she's talking about Zelma.

  “Maybe you'll make a new friend today.” I grin.

  “Maybe.” She doesn't look hopeful.

  “There he is.” Laura turns towards a small stage that's set up at the front of the room just as Trent comes around the corner. He's wearing a gray business suit with a black tie, looking as dashing as ever. If my mother and Terry had to judge him on attractiveness alone, they'd definitely see a winner.

  “Damn,” Terry comments, her mouth falling open.

  My mom is less affected by his presence. “Is that him?”

  “You remember what he looks like.” I furrow my brow at her. How could she forget? He was on her doorstep, after all.

  Everyone puts their hands together for a brief round of applause when they realize that Trent is about to speak. He looks through the crowd and finds me. Zelma walks back inside from the pool area, but she doesn't join us. Instead, she leans against the wall and smiles at me before her eyes settle on Trent.

  “I just want to take a quick moment to thank everyone for coming.” Trent outstretches his arms to encompass the entire group. “The spring party is just a little something I like to do every year to get us all out of the office and have some fun time. You know what they say about all work and no play,” he lets out a short laugh, and a small chorus follows. “Chilly Creations, Inc. has been my home away from home for the past ten years, and everyone here has become like family to me. That's why I wanted to share a very important moment in my life with you all.” His eyes fix on me, and I feel my heart stall for a split second. “There's a very special girl here this evening. She walked into my office looking for a job, and she left the company with my heart.” A round of awes greet his sweet words, and he nods and looks away, obviously a little embarrassed, though he quickly recovers, taking a deep breath before he speaks again. “Fennel, I know we haven't known each other for very long. I know I haven't always been the greatest man. But I'd like to make that up to you. For the rest of your life, if you'd let me.” He jumps off of the stage. All eyes follow him as he makes his way towards me.

  My hand flies up to my chest, and I feel like I might have a heart attack. Is he really going to do what I think he is? We haven't even been dating for a month. When he goes down on one knee in front of me though, my suspicions are confirmed.

  “Fennel Riegel, I've never met any woman like you before, and I know I never will again. You walked out of my life once, and I can't stand the thought of it happening again. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  There's not enough beer in the world to give me the courage to say no to him in front of all of these people. Everyone is watching us, and I feel backed into a corner. While the gesture is romantic, there's so much doubt racing through me. It feels like words can't make it to my mouth. Everyone is waiting on my reply with bated breath, including my mother and best friend.

  “Yes.” My voice is foreign to me, and it sounds more like a question than an answer.

  I'm so shocked and lost in the moment that I'm not sure how to react. Trent rises and wraps his arms around me, twirling me dramatically. People are clapping and laughing, and I'm completely bewildered, like I just got hit by a car and am trying to stagger back to my feet.

  “I wasn't sure you would say yes,” he whispers into my ear before setting me down.

  I don't have time to respond because people are swarming us with congratulations. All I can do is smile and wonder what in the hell just happened. Terry and my mother disappear into the crowd, retreating away from the action. When I finally do spot them, I look at them longingly, wishing to be rescued.

  Trent entwines his fingers in mine and holds me captive. It's different than when we're in his basement. This bondage is completely new to me.

  I wait until the crowd dissipates before I place my hand on his shoulder and go up on tiptoe to ask if we can go somewhere more private. He nods approvingly before leading me out into the hotel lobby. It's not the privacy I had hoped for, but it's far better than being around all of his friends and co-workers.

  “That was unexpected.” I pull away from him, trying not to seem too harsh.

  He fumbles in his pocket for a small black box. “I think I messed up a little. I had the ring in my pocket the entire time, but I was too nervous to pull it out.”

  “Did you really just propose to me after we've only been dating for a few weeks?” I cross my arms over my chest. When he opens the box to me, all of my breath leaves me in a gasp. The ring inside has to cost more than my car.

  “I meant everything I said to you, Fennel. I know this is sudden, and I'm not even sure it's what you want. In truth, I realize that there's so little I know about you. But I want to get to know it all.” He drops down on one knee again, and I allow him to put the ring on my finger.

  It takes several moments of staring and gawking at the ring before the fairytale moment begins to wear off and I'm able to regain my speech again. “I don't know about this, Trent.” I shake my head. “I mean, I like you a lot, but marriage?”

  “You already said yes.” He quirks an eyebrow at me.

  “I didn't feel like I had a choice.”

  “If you don't want me, I'll understand.” He deflates a little.

  “It's not that I don't want you. I do want you.” I take a few steps away from him. “I just didn't expect this. It's too soon. It's...not normal for someone to propose this quickly.”

  “Haven't you figured out that I'm not normal, by now?” He follows me, taking my hands in his and admiring the ring on my finger. The diamond catches the light and glitters like something magical. “Fennel,” he sighs. “I don't do anything half-assed. At least, I try not to. When I see something I want, I go for it. I've always been that way. I want you, and the thought of there being any possibility that you'd walk out of my life
absolutely terrifies me. But I don't want this to feel like a bondage collar to you.” He gives my ring hand a gentle shake. “I'm not trying to tie you down or force you to be with me. I know it probably seems that way, and I probably made it sound that way.

  “Just because I want to marry you doesn't mean we have to do it right away. The engagement can be as long or as short as you want it to be. That ball is in your court. You control it. I just wanted to make my intentions known. And that's what the ring is about. I do want to marry you. Today. Tomorrow. Ten years from now. Preferably before I die.”

  I can't help but laugh at that last part. Knowing that he's not going to rush the wedding does put my mind at ease.

  “So is this really just your overprotective, overbearing way to tell other guys that I'm off limits?” I wrinkle my nose at him.

  He freezes for a minute before nodding vigorously. “Pretty much. And it's also a ticket into your pants whenever I want.”

  I slap his chest, my mouth falling open in disbelief. “Trent Stevens! You are absolutely horrible.”

  “Ohhh, I feel like you would have used my middle name then, had you known it,” he quips.

  “I would have,” I sigh, realizing just how little we know about each other. My gaze falls back down to the ring. If anything, it's a promise that we'll take the time to get to know each other. He wouldn't have given it to me if he wasn't at least serious about that. “A long engagement,” I say finally. “I like that.”

  “As long as you want. As long as you're mine.”

  From the Author

  I hope you've enjoyed Urges: Part Three. If you liked this series, then I recommend checking out my Between Two Billionaires series, a dark romance about a girl and the two hot, twisted men vying for her affection.

  To further support this author, please post a review after you finish reading this book.

  Sky Corgan is the USA Today bestselling author of The Billionaires Club. She lives in a little podunk town near San Antonio, Texas. When she's not typing away at the next steamy romance novel, she's busy planning for future vacations.

  Originally a horror author, sex scenes and love stories kept magically creeping into her work, so she decided to make the switch to romance. Now she enjoys writing stories that make your heart flutter and your inner yearnings awaken.

  You can get a FREE Sky Corgan novel and stay up to date on her latest releases by signing up for her newsletter.

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  Bonus Excerpt from Between Two Billionaires

  “Eureka! I found it!” Ethel bursts through my bedroom door. A broad smile stretches across her face as if she has the best news in the world.

  I groan, turning my computer chair towards her. “Don't you know how to knock?”

  Apparently, she doesn't. She's prone to walking into my room whenever she wants, no matter how many times I chastise her about it. You'd think she owned the place. She doesn't own the place. Our parents do. But, if I'm being honest, she was here first. My mom and I moved in a few years ago when our parents finally got married.

  “So.” Ethel sets herself down on my bed, making herself comfortable. “There's this rich guy who is throwing a party this weekend.” She looks at me expectantly, as if she thinks I can read her mind.

  “And?” I can't hide the annoyance from my voice. It's not like I was doing anything important. Just chatting online with friends. It's the principal of the matter though. I could have been naked, and she just walked right in like it was nothing.

  “That's where I'm going to meet my rich husband.” She does a strange head roll, as if the answer should have been obvious.

  I can't help but laugh. “You do that.”

  “I am, and you're coming with me.”

  “Oh?” This is news to me. I'm not at all interested, but I know I have no choice but to hear her out. That's what she came here for, to dish out her devious plan.

  “Yup. You and Lisa. Maybe we'll all get rich husbands,” she squeals as if she's imagining us all with Prince Charmings on our arms. Sometimes I wonder how she survives, living in such inflated fantasies. Her life is a roller coaster of irrational hope and disappointment. Maybe if she'd just get a job, she wouldn't have to worry about finding a rich husband to support her.

  “The rich husband thing is all you.” I smirk, turning my chair to face her. She's not going anywhere any time soon; I can tell.

  “Every girl wants a rich husband,” she sighs dreamily.

  “If you say so.” There's no point in arguing with her. Then I'd have to sit through a lecture detailing out why marrying rich is the best way to go. The answers are obvious, but that's not what I want for myself. I want to get by on hard work, supporting myself, never having to rely on a man.

  “So anyway, you're in, right?” She readjusts herself on the bed, staring at me intently. Her dark eyes are so big, it's hard not to get caught up in her enthusiasm.

  “I'm not really interested,” I say hesitantly.

  “Girl, you haven't even heard my plan yet.” She flips her hand out at me, throwing her head back in an exaggerated gesture. Such a diva.

  “Enlighten me, then.” I cross my arms over my chest, completely expecting something outlandish.

  “Apparently, this guy throws parties every few months. Security is really lax.”

  “That doesn't sound like how a rich guy would run things at all. Are you sure you're not talking about a party in the ghetto?” I tease her.

  “Would you just shut up and listen to me for half a second.” Her temper flairs.

  I know better than to say anything more, so I simply make a gesture like I'm zipping my lips, smiling all the while. There's a thin line between playing with Ethel and fighting with her. I learned that a long time ago when we first moved in together. Those days were horrible. I can handle her now though.

  “Anyway.” She rolls her eyes, sighing out her discontent. It disappears just as quickly as it came on. “I figured that if we pretended to be strippers, we could get in easy-peasy.”

  I arch an eyebrow, knowing I'm treading that line with my skepticism. “Me. Pretend to be a stripper.” That's a laugh. I'm the epitome of wholesome. Like, Catholic school girl wholesome, in a very literal sense. Before our parents met, I actually went to an all-female Catholic school. It wasn't until Ethel's father convinced my mom that I needed to learn how to survive the general populous that my mom finally switched me over to a normal public school. I was like such a fish out of water back then, and I honestly don't think I ever really socially adjusted. Maybe that's why I feel so awkward all the time. Oh well. It can't be changed now. All I know is that I took a lot of the values from Catholic school with me. I've only kissed one boy in my entire life, and I wouldn't even dream of having sex outside of wedlock. The idea of dressing up like a stripper just to get into some stupid party is preposterous to me.

  “Come on, Sarah, it will be fun.” Ethel scoots closer to me on the bed. “Haven't you ever wanted to look sexy?”

  “Nope. Never.” I shake my head. Sexy gives men the wrong impression. Sexy can get you into trouble.

  “Ugh. You're so lame.” Frustration takes over the anger she was once displaying. She knows this is a losing battle. I won't budge.

  “You have Lisa. You girls go have fun. You can tell me all about it afterward.” I try to calm her with a smile.

  She stands, her body ridged. “You know what, you're never going to experience anything that life has to offer if you keep staying inside this little shell you've created for yourself.” She presses her fingertips together and draws them out and around, creating an invisible shell with her hands.

  I'm perfectly fine with my shell, I want to say, but instead, I simply reply, �
�I know.” There's no point in arguing.

  A vein in her neck bulges. Cruel words are sitting on her tongue. I wait for her to spit them at me, but thankfully, she just shakes her head and leaves, taking the tension in the room with her. I sigh, grateful that it's over. What a stupid thing to argue about. She should know by now that her and I are as different as night and day. The things she's interested in, I'm not, and that includes finding some man to shack up with.

  I sit in silence for a moment, trying not to let the conversation get to me. It's difficult. She may only be my step-sister, but I still want her to like me. Maybe I should try harder. There has to be better ways than this though.

  ***

  It's Saturday night, and I'm exhausted from a long day working at the coffee shop. Saving up to pay for college is hard. If I had known it was going to be this difficult, to take so long, I would have applied for more scholarships. Coulda, shoulda, woulda. It does no good to think of the past. I've made my own bed, slacked off too much in an attempt to be liked by the kids at school, to try to fit in. Wanting to fit in was a mistake. Now I'm struggling like the rest of them. Lessons learned in youth continue to haunt me as an adult. Now I have to rectify my mistakes. I try not to be unhappy about it, but it's hard sometimes.

  I can hear heavy footsteps treading down the hall towards my room. It's Ethel. I don't even need to wonder what's coming next. No one walks that heavily in this house when they're angry but her. I turn my computer chair towards the door before she even has a chance to barge in on me unannounced.

  “You're not going to believe this,” she growls, slamming my door behind herself. I can't help but wince. This is a ragefit that I have absolutely nothing to do with, but I'm about to feel the brunt of it.

  “Tell me all about it.” I reach over and pat my bed, trying to be supportive.