Take Me Back

by Meghan March

  But instead, his thumb presses there again, nearly slipping inside.

  With a swift inhalation, I brace, but Dane’s already reaching around to find my clit and strumming it as his hips piston against mine.

  So many sensations. Too many—

  The tip of his thumb breaches my ass, and my nerve endings spark with pleasure.

  “Oh God.”

  Dane’s thrusts increase in pace, and I wrap my fingers around the edges of the dark wood to hold on as my body is overwhelmed.

  I scream his name as I come.

  Dane pumps inside me over and over until he yells out his climax, and I can feel him pulsating inside me.

  Sweet Jesus. I don’t know what exactly just happened, but I’d be good with it happening every day, say . . . . forever?

  Dane presses a kiss between my shoulder blades. “You okay, baby?”

  I move my head, meaning to nod, but my cheek is stuck to the desk now. I might even leave a drool mark, and I can’t find it in me to care.

  “You sure?”

  I nod again. “Never been better.”

  Dane chuckles as he pulls free from my body, and I decide it’s my new favorite sound as we clean up.

  It’s definitely better than the sound of the woman’s voice who speaks from the doorway when I slip on my second boot.

  “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

  Chapter 46

  Dane

  I jerk my head up to see Arianna standing in the doorway, her gun leveled at Kat where she stands directly in front of me.

  What the hell?

  “Actually, I don’t care if I am interrupting.”

  Rome tracked her to Israel and had a local operator going after her. There’s no way she should be in the States right now.

  “Surprised to see me, boss?” She glances at Kat. “He never used his desk for anything this exciting before. I guess near-death experiences really do change people. Too bad this one won’t be near.”

  “Why’d you do it, Ari? Money? Blackmail?”

  She knows exactly what I’m talking about.

  “Why did I contact Vargas and let him know there was a perfect opportunity to get revenge?”

  That takes the blackmail option off the table.

  I nod.

  “You don’t even know, do you?”

  “Know what?”

  “It was my turn to take everything from you since you did it to me.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  She steps forward, her gun held steadily at Kat’s head. “Luis.”

  Like it has a hundred times, the memory of watching him fall to his death plays through my head. Arianna would have seen it too, working at the Central American ops headquarters. Where they worked. Together.

  The pieces come together.

  “You and Luis?”

  She nods. “We were going to get married. Have a family.”

  “Rome’s non-fraternization policy wasn’t going to stop you, I take it?”

  “I was going to quit as soon as I found another job. Luis would stay, and there would be no problem. But we never got the chance because you killed him.”

  Hearing someone else level the same accusation I’d directed at myself so many times would have cut deep only days before, but Kat had finally gotten through to me.

  “I didn’t kill him. I wasn’t even there.”

  Arianna takes another step toward us and I wrap one arm around Kat, bringing her against my chest while reaching under the desk with the other hand.

  “You should’ve been there! It should’ve been you! He wasn’t ready. It was all her fault.”

  The gun quivers in Arianna’s hand, and now I understand why she dragged Kat into the whole mess to begin with.

  “So for revenge you arranged for us both to be kidnapped, and her to be sold and me transported to Vargas to kill me.”

  “I did what I had to do.”

  “Take two lives to make up for an accident? Luis would be disgusted by you.”

  She shakes her head, and the gun wobbles. “He would be proud that I got revenge. But you had to screw that up too.”

  “So you came to work with me when I left the field because you wanted revenge.”

  Arianna smiles, and it’s pure evil.

  How did I miss it for a year? Because I was too blind to see anything through my guilt.

  “Keep your enemies closer, I believe the saying goes. Now you both pay.”

  She squeezes the trigger as I throw Kat to the floor and raise the gun taped under my desk to fire back.

  There’s only a click.

  Arianna’s bullet makes contact, slamming into my shoulder.

  “Should’ve checked your weapon first, boss.”

  She sights in on me again, but before she can pull the trigger, another shot fires. Arianna is thrown backward onto the floor, blood pooling around her.

  I look down to see Kat crouching on the floor, the revolver she started carrying everywhere two weeks ago in her shaking hands.

  She looks up at me. “I knew I didn’t like her.”

  Epilogue

  Kat

  Three months later

  “How am I going to tell him?”

  The test results shake in my hand. The last three months have been unusually quiet after all the craziness, and now this.

  I lower it to the table and flex my hands into fists to stop the shaking, then drop into a chair.

  The garage door goes up as Dane pulls into the driveway. He has finally recovered from his most recent gunshot wound, and I swore that better be the last one. He agreed.

  “Baby, I’m home!” he yells two minutes later when he opens the door from the garage into the house.

  My throat seems frozen, unable to yell back.

  How am I going to tell him? I ask myself again.

  Dane finds me in the kitchen and stops. “What’s wrong?”

  I’m terrible at hiding anything from him now, and we promised no more secrets between us.

  I pick up the test from the table and hold it in the air.

  “What the hell is that? Wait a minute.” Dane looks up from what I’m holding to meet my gaze. “Is that—”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  His entire face lights up, and he yanks me out of the chair and hauls me up in his arms. I lose my grip on the pregnancy test, and it falls to the tile floor.

  “Are you serious?”

  I nod. “Yes. I took six of them.”

  “Of course you did.”

  He spins me around the kitchen as we both break into laughter. It reminds me of the day, not so very long ago, that I got my negative ALS test results in the mail. I bawled and laughed, and we both celebrated no longer having that cloud hanging over us.

  “We’re having a baby.” I try out the words, and they feel right.

  “It better be a boy, or I’m going to have to tail her on every date she has, which won’t even happen until after she turns thirty.”

  “Stop. If it’s a girl, she’ll have you wrapped around her finger.”

  “No way.”

  “I’ve met you, and you might look big and tough, but it’s all a front.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s only for you, baby.” He squeezes me tighter. “I’m so fucking happy.”

  “Me too.”

  He finally sets me down and holds my face between his hands. “I love you so fucking much.”

  He leans down to cover my mouth with his, and before our lips touch, I whisper back to him.

  “Always and forever.”

  The End

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  I’d love to hear what you thought about Kat and Dane’s story. If you have a few moments to leave a review on the retailer’s site where you purchased the book, I’d be incredibly grateful. Send
me a link at meghanmarchbooks@gmail.com, and I’ll thank you with a personal note.

  * * *

  What’s coming next from Meghan March? How do you feel about getting Real Dirty?

  Country music’s bad boy Boone Thrasher has it all. A new single burning up the charts, more money than a country boy can spend, and a hot starlet he plans to marry—until she doesn’t show up for the proposal. The Real Dirty Duet releases in May. Click here to preorder Real Dirty and keep reading for a special sneak peek of the first chapter.

  REAL DIRTY

  Meghan March

  Chapter 1

  Boone

  As soon as the last chord of my brand new single dies away, I jam the microphone back into its holder and stalk off the stage, leaving the lights and the roar of the crowd behind me.

  Where the hell is she?

  “Boone—”

  “Great show!”

  “Nice job!”

  Over the noise of screaming fans, people yell to me, but I ignore it all and head for my dressing room. I don’t have shit to say right now. Only a few people knew about my proposal plans, and I can’t stand to see the sympathetic expressions on their faces. I don’t need anyone’s fucking pity. It’s not like I was stood up at the altar. My girlfriend’s flight was cancelled or delayed… and she’s not answering her phone. I’ll just have to come up with a way to top this one. Somehow.

  Amber better have a damn good explanation for where the hell she is. I know she’s independent and just as busy as I am, but that doesn’t mean I don’t friggin’ worry when she goes MIA.

  After shoving open the door with my nameplate on it so hard it smacks into the wall and bounces shut, I flip the lock and lean back against the wooden panel.

  At least my parents aren’t here. Jesus. That would’ve been more than I want to deal with.

  I love them both to death, but my mom would have alluded to this being the universe’s way of telling me I need to think about what I’m doing.

  Marriage is sacred, Boone. Are you one hundred percent sure that she’s the one?

  You would think Ma would be thrilled at the thought of adding another daughter-in-law to the family, but it’s safe to say she was more excited about me turning down my community college baseball scholarship to try to make it in Nashville.

  When I packed my rusted-out truck with my guitar and clothes, she hugged me hard and dished out her special brand of wisdom. You do what you need to do, Boone. We’ll always be here to support you, and you better believe I’ll be first in line to buy your record as soon as it releases.

  Ma didn’t have to wait in line for shit. I hand delivered the first copy the label gave me to her house before release day, but that didn’t stop her from going down to Wal-Mart and buying every one they had on the shelf. All sixteen of them. Because that’s my mom, supportive to a fault… on everything but this.

  Tilting my head back, I focus on the white drop ceiling above me. Normally after a concert, I’m riding high, but tonight I’m off my game because of Amber. It’s not every day you have an epic proposal planned and the person you’re going to propose to doesn’t show.

  Someone pounds on the door behind me, and I shove off the wood as it vibrates.

  “BT! I got the keys to your ride! Wanna get the fuck outta here?”

  The voice belongs to Zane Frisco, one of the openers. The crooner with shaggy blond hair picks up plenty of women I pass on because I’m not looking to cheat. This tour has been a pussy parade that launched his career to the next level.

  When I don’t answer, he drops his voice. “Vultures are circling, man. Press must’ve found out about your plans. Time to roll.”

  There’s no way I’ll make it out of the venue without being spotted, especially if the press is foaming at the mouth to get a story. It takes everything I have not to turn around and punch through the door. I flex my hands into a fist. It’s been a long time since my tattooed knuckles pounded into anything.

  Putting my hand through the door isn’t going to change a damn thing though. Uncurling my fingers, I turn around and yank it open instead.

  Frisco leans with his shoulder against the door and nearly falls backward when it swings wide.

  “Thought you were tunneling out under the wall.” He straightens and holds up my keys with a pair of brass knuckles serving as the keychain. “Your security detail is clearing out the press. Thought now would be a perfect time to get the hell out of here.”

  After a couple months of touring together, Frisco gets it. Sometimes, you just need to walk away from all the shit that goes along with being able to draw a crowd big enough to fill a stadium.

  I grab the keys out of his hand, and we stride back toward the stage where my brand new obsession waits. The completely restored Olds 442 is sweet as fuck and was delivered only yesterday.

  Other than backing her off the trailer and driving into a room for the press to drool over and then up onto the stage, I haven’t taken her anywhere.

  I was going to drop to one knee beside it and ask Amber to spend the rest of her life rolling through the backroads with me, but we all know how that turned out.

  My fingers flex, wanting to try to get her on the phone, but what would be the point? She’s got to be on a plane, otherwise she would’ve called me back already. She’ll text me from her condo asking me to come meet her as soon as she gets in, just like normal.

  She didn’t know what you were planning so cut her some slack, I tell myself. I’m trying to give her some grace, but my patience is wearing thin.

  Sometimes you just have to roll with the punches, so why not get the hell out of here and put the 442 through her paces?

  As soon as I lay eyes on the slick black and red paint job, I feel lighter. I jerk my chin at Frisco in the direction of the muscle car. “Let’s go.”

  Click here to preorder Real Dirty and get ready to swoon over Boone Thrasher!

  Also by Meghan March

  BENEATH Series:

  Beneath This Mask

  Beneath This Ink

  Beneath These Chains

  Beneath These Scars

  Beneath These Lies

  Beneath These Shadows

  FLASH BANG Series:

  Flash Bang

  Hard Charger

  DIRTY BILLIONAIRE Trilogy:

  Dirty Billionaire

  Dirty Pleasures

  Dirty Together

  DIRTY GIRL Duet:

  Dirty Girl

  Dirty Love

  REAL DUET:

  Real Good Man

  Real Good Love

  THE REAL DIRTY DUET

  Real Dirty

  Real Sexy

  STANDALONES:

  Bad Judgment

  Acknowledgments

  This book never would’ve been written if I hadn’t had the crazy idea to move out of the United States to live in Belize for a year. The how and why behind that crazy idea is a long story, but suffice it to say life seems to take us down the path we’re meant to travel.

  JDW, this book wouldn’t have happened without you and your willingness to live out this amazing adventure with me. I fully expect that you would rescue me (and fuck some people up) if I were ever kidnapped. Let’s hope that stays purely fictional, though, okay? You’re my always and forever.

  Special thanks also goes out to:

  My readers—You’re the reason I keep putting words on the page, and your support makes every single insane deadline I set completely worth it, because while I offer you an escape, you’ve offered me a chance to live my dream. My undying gratitude will always be yours.

  My Runaway Readers—You’re the shit. End of. No, seriously, you are. I couldn’t ask for a more devoted crew of women (and men) who cheer me on and inspire me every day. I hope I get to meet every single one of you in person someday so I can thank you for being part of my world.

  The extraordinary bloggers of the indie book world—You are also the shit. You put in so much time reading, reviewing, shari
ng, and spreading the word about books, and it makes all the difference in the world. I truly appreciate each and every one of you. Thank you for taking a chance on me and embracing my books.

  Angela Marshall Smith—Thank you for your patience with me on this one. Even when I wanted to toss it on a shelf and maybe never come back to it, you helped me find the light at the end of the tunnel. We did it! All the love.

  Pam Berehulke—I apologize for being late on yet another deadline. I swear I don’t mean to be, but my ambition sometimes gets ahead of how fast my brain can plot and my fingers can type. Your graciousness and amazing skill never cease to amaze me. Thank you for being the best editor around.

  Stacy Kestwick—You. Seriously. Rock. Thank you for your uncanny insight and sharp eye. I love working with you. All the hugs, girly.

  Jamie Lynn and Natasha Gentile—I apologize for not telling you what the hell you were getting into when I sent this book your way. If you need anxiety meds after this one, that’s probably my fault. I’m so lucky to have you both on my team.

  Angela Smith—For everything you do and have done since we started this adventure, and for holding down the fort while I ran away to live on the beach in the tropics. You are always amazing.

  My JJL Crew—I love us. I know I’ve told you that, but I’m going to get sappy for a minute anyway. For almost two years, you’ve been a constant presence in my life, and there would be a gaping hole without you. We can never, ever break up. We’ll be like one of those bands where the members are way too freaking old to be onstage, and yet they keep on rockin’. You’re my tribe, and I love you hard.

  My family, and most especially my mom—You buy my books even though I send them to you anyway (even the ones I tell you not to read), and I couldn’t have taken the first step on any of this adventure without your support. I know having your only daughter decide to move out of the country was not ideal from a mom’s perspective, but you gave me wings and let me fly. Thank you for giving me the ability to soar. I love you.