by LP Lovell
At this stage, I’m just holding on for the sake of my own dignity. I love him, but he needs to work his way back in and I’m not making it easy for him. I check the clock, and it’s ten o’ clock, the end of my shift. I go out back and grab my coat and bag before I say bye to Casey and wish her a Happy Christmas.
Rhett wraps an arm around my waist and we walk outside onto the busy street. People drunkenly stagger around, singing and cheering as they dodge street performers and tuk-tuks. Crowds spill out of bar doorways until the entire street is one big party. This is Temple Bar and I love it. The place is infectious. You can’t help but smile when you’re here because it’s such a good vibe.
My heels click over the cobblestones as we walk a couple of streets over to where Rhett’s car is parked. I sigh when I get in, glad to finally be off my feet.
“You know you don’t have to work there.” Rhett starts.
“Rhett.” I sigh. I came to Dublin to make a life for myself, get my degree, a career, but most of all I wanted to do it myself. Of course, he just hates men looking at me, and me working such shit hours. He would pay my way and think nothing of it, but I didn’t come here to trade a rich daddy for a rich boyfriend.
He places his hand on my thigh and my pulse jumps excitedly. “Okay. Fine.”
He drives through the windy streets and finally pulls up outside a building. “Uh, where are we?”
He leans back in the seat. “My new place.” This again.
“So you like Dublin?”
He smiles. “There are certain attractions for me here.”
I smirk. “Are you sure you aren’t tired of waiting for said attractions to open?”
He turns to face me, those gold irises imprisoning me and branding me with just the briefest glance. “I’ll wait as long as it takes for you, Blake.”
My heart splutters in my chest like a giddy girl, and I break eye contact, opening the car door. I look up at the old brick building with metal balconies outside the windows. It’s pretty. The locks on the car chirp and he steps in front of me, opening the door.
I follow him into the hallway, and there at the end is a tiny lift with an old fashioned metal gate that pulls across.
“Heaven forbid you should have to do any exercise.” He smiles.
I bite my bottom lip on a grin as I step inside. They say that love is all about the grand gestures, but it’s really the little things. It’s the tiny thoughtful moments that you know are of no consequence to the other person, and yet, they think of them because they know it matters to you.
When he opens the door to the apartment I smile. I was expecting his cold, sterile thing, but it’s not at all. The floors are wood, the walls a soft beige, and there's art and cushions, even a little fire place. It looks like a home, and as I walk around, I notice little nik-naks and trinkets that were in Milly’s flat. Pictures, a stolen garden gnome, a willy shot glass I won in Las Vegas.
“You had my stuff sent over?” He nods. “Why?” I ask.
He slowly paces towards me, crossing his arms over his chest. “Because I want you to move in here. I didn’t buy this place for me. I bought it for us.”
I don’t know what to say. “Rhett, I…”
He holds up his hand. “Before you answer I have something for you.”
I frown and watch as he goes to the fire place, taking something off the mantel piece. He comes to a halt in front of me, a smile softening the angles of his perfect face. He holds out his hand, and there, in the middle of his palm is a ring, no the ring. The ruby stone glistens in the light. How the hell did he get it back?
“How?” I stammer.
He cocks an eyebrow. “I have my sources.”
He lifts it by a slim chain, dangling it in front of me. “This isn’t…?” I don’t want to say the words, because if he’s proposing again, I don’t think I can cope.
He shakes his head. “It’s simply a promise. You’re my fucking world, Duchess, and you always will be.”
Oh, my god. How can I refuse that? I can’t and I don’t want to because he’s my world too. He makes me feel safe where no one else can, he makes me whole and, above all, he believes in me. What we have can’t be labelled. I can’t just refuse to have sex with him and pretend that makes us less then what we are. We’re Blake and Rhett, imperfect, tarnished sides of the same coin.
Life is too short to settle for anything less than explosive. Many things in life are mediocre, but love shouldn’t be one of them, and the way Rhett loves me…he could set the world on fire.
I steel myself and gently press my hand to his chest, resting my forehead against his. I can feel his warm breath on my lips, his heavy heartbeats under my palm. “Yes.”
“Yes?”
I press my lips to his, and he cups my nape. “I love you. You’re my addiction.” I smile. He’s my own personal drug, and I want to spend the rest of my life high on him.
He yanks my skirt up, tearing the fabric as he cups my arse and lifts me until I spread my legs either side of his waist. I cup his face as our lips touch, our breaths ragged. “Then shoot up, Duchess.”
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Three songs in, two shots later, sweat is dripping down the center of my back. My head swims in a blissful drunkenness. Nic's hands brush down my sides before he grabs onto my ass, and thrusts my hips against his, grinding me against his erection.
He places his lips by my ear. “Fuck, I miss this,” he says with a growl as he yanks me harder against his body. His teeth graze over my earlobe. “Let me take you home,” he says, kissing down my neck and over my throat.
I’m shaking my head no, but grabbing onto him and tilting my head back to grant him better access to my neck.
“No one will ever know.” His hands glide up my back to my shoulders. Fisting my hair, he tugs me to his face. “Whatever’s going on with you and Isaac—you want out…I’ll save you, and if you don’t, well, I’ll help you get away with it.”
And I swear, for a split-second, I stop breathing.
His eyes seer into mine before falling to my mouth. Cupping the back of my head in his hands, he rolls his bottom lip over mine. My breath falls ragged as I fight the urge to slam my mouth over his. I want to, but the way his lip is barely brushing against mine is too beautiful. It's dragging out the inevitable, just like we have been doing.
“I shouldn't...” he whispers against my mouth.
I remember the way this feels, how his kisses always left me undone, and I can’t stop the slight moan that trickles from my lips to his. With that, his mouth claims mine in a vicious kiss and without pause, it’s like we’ve never spent a day apart. Our lips are in sync, our tongues brushing against each other in rhythm. I don’t fight him, I sink into him, parting my lips and letting his tongue sweep against mine. He pulls me in closer, deepening the kiss.
The loud music blares around us, the people moving in beat beside us have no idea what awful thing we’re doing, what horrible, festering wound we’ve just ripped back open. His hands, his body, his mouth, the taste of him—the man who should, at this point, be a stranger to me—consumes me. His hands are in my hair, his body pressed against mine. And with this one kiss he's proved that he still owns me. Nic tears away from me, taking my hand and pulling me from the dance floor. And I stumble after him without even realizing it.
“Peyton!” I hear Jen call for me, and it’s almost like that snaps me back into reality.
I glance at my hand in Nic's, at my wedding ring glinting in the dim club lights, and my chest tightens. I yank my hand away from his. He turns around.
“I can’t…” I say, my heart hammering in my temples as he looks me over, his gaze narrowing.
“Peyton.” Jen laughs. The strap of her dress hangs from her shoulder, her hair’s a mess. She stumbles over to me and grabs my arm. “Want to go to another club?”
I notice the guy from earlier holding her around the waist and kissing up her neck. She doesn't even realize what I've just done.
; I shake my head. “No. We need to go,” I say, jerking my arm out of her grasp.
“But—”
“I have to go!” I don’t look back at her. I can’t look at Nicolas because I’m afraid if I do I won’t leave. I just keep walking toward the exit, my heart drumming into my throat. The cold air hits me when I step outside the bar, and the sudden chill releases some of the tension.
I hail for a cab, my mind replaying what just happened over and over. Old brakes squeak as the taxi comes to a stop at the curb.
“I’ve got my car,” Jen protests as she points down the street.
I open the door and shove her toward the cab. “Yeah, and we are both shitfaced.” I climb in, slam the door, and stare at the dark windows of that club. Brushing my fingers over my lips, I try to tell myself that did not just happen, but I can still taste him on my lips. “Shit,” I mumble.
You are the reason I write and without you I wouldn’t be able to do what I do, nor would I want to. Thank you for allowing me to take you away from your own world for a few hours and immerse you in mine.
So thank you for reading. Thank you for taking a chance on me.
I hope that you loved it!
If you would be amazingly kind and leave a review, I would be so grateful. Leg humps would be owed.
There are so many people to thank for helping me with High, so here it goes.
The biggest thank you has to go to Stevie J. Cole, my sister from another mister, would be lesbian wife lover and best friend. She takes me to places no sane person should venture, but holds my hand and drags from me the kind of story I never thought myself capable of writing. She also listens to me bitch and whine about how shit I think every book I write is! And she edits my awful grammar. I love you boo. You’re the best.
Big thanks to SM Piper for her hard work on the beautiful cover, I think this may be my favourite one yet.
Thank you to Clarissa Perry of Uncovered Models for modelling the cover, and Jonathan Kemp for taking the picture.
Thanks to our lovely formatter, Leigh Stone, for making this book look so pretty and professional.
Huge thanks to Kerry Fletcher and Marika Nespoli for all your pimping and sharing. I love you girls!
I have to give a massive shout out to my friends Hattie Heal and Steph Johnson for their inspirational brand of crazy. Only you could have a stray hamster living in your house, Steph! Baha!
There are so many blogs and individuals who have helped me along the way and you are all hugely appreciated. There are a couple though who I just want to give a mention to.
Give Me Books and One-Click Addicts. I love you girls and I couldn’t do this without you. Mummy Kylie, organization queen and actual fucking goddess, thank you for your awesome PR and your ongoing support. I genuinely could not do this without you. You’re a star, and no one else can do what you do. Also, thanks to Missy and Devlynn for your fierce loyalty and your willingness to always help.
Jenny and Gitte of Totally Booked, you girls are just amazing. Thank you so much for all your help with several of mine and Stevie’s books. I love you girlies!
Schmexy Jen: I love that you love my accent so much. It makes me feel special.
Sarah-Jane: You are the best, best, best PA a girl could want, and an awesome friend. And your tits are amazing.
There are so, so many people who have helped me, and you know who you are.
I hope I haven’t missed anyone. Just know that anyone who has ever written a review, posted a teaser, or read any of my books...Thank you. Your ongoing support means the world.
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Lauren Lovell is an indie author from England. She suffers from a total lack of brain to mouth filter and is the friend you have to explain before you introduce her to anyone, and apologise for afterwards.
She's a self-confessed shameless pervert, who may be suffering from slight peen envy.
Other books by LP Lovell
She Who Dares series:
Besieged #1
Conquered #2
Surrendered #3
Ruined #4
Wrong Series:
Wrong
Wrath
Standalone:
Absolution
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/lplovellauthor
Twitter: @Authorlplovell
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7850247.LP_Lo vell
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/LP- Lovell/e/B00NDZ61PM