by Jordan Marie
“That’s where you’re wrong, Hope. We never knew each other at all. You didn’t give us that chance.”
“Is that how you really feel? You don’t think anything we shared was real?” she whispers, and somehow I think it was me this time that delivered a death punch.
“Yes,” I answer, and I swear I’m so fucked-up in the head right now I don’t know if I’m telling the truth or lying. I thought it was the truth, but she’s standing in front of me and she’s the Hope I remember in my dreams. The one who laughs with me late in the night, while her body is wrapped around me. The one who plays with her son and looks over at me with love shining in her eyes.
I feel raw on the inside. Seeing her only makes that worse.
“Okay, Aden. I’ll leave,” she says, answering my silent prayer. Strange thing about that is, I feel panicked at the thought of her leaving. I beat down that feeling, she’s just messing with my head again.
She takes an envelope out of the purse on her shoulder and holds it out to me.
“What’s this?” I ask, staring at it like a three-headed snake that might strike at any time. In my experience, a woman handing you papers is never a good thing. It usually involves them demanding money.
“I thought White and your friend Gavin were insane, but now I realize they do know you better than I do.”
“You’ve talked to Gavin?”
“Briefly with White. I’m… He’s protective over you and I don’t think he trusts me.”
“Gee, I wonder why.”
“I had my attorney draw them up,” she whispers. She takes a step toward me. I back away. She looks at me and I see it. I see it, because it’s the same look that stares back at me every morning. She’s broken. She’s suffering. She feels empty.
She places the papers on the step, when it becomes clear I’m not going to take them from her.
“You may not believe me, Aden. I know what I did was horrible, I do. I was just so afraid…” she whispers.
“You should have been. You should be now!” I growl, angry at her for being here. “I should sue you and bring you to your knees for what you’ve done. No one should play God with another person. You made me into your fucking puppet.”
“Is that how you remember our time together?”
I don’t answer her. I don’t think I have an answer.
“Because I remember it as the best time in my life.”
“Get the fuck away from me, Hope,” I growl, my voice hoarse.
“I’m going. Can I ask you one question?”
“You can ask. It doesn’t mean that I’m going to answer.”
Her eyes close as she takes that from me, when they open back up I can see tears shining in them. Is this her game now?
Is she trying for sympathy?
“How can you not expect me to be terrified of losing everything, when even now your first response is to sue me? I don’t live in your world, but—”
“That’s right, you don’t,” I snarl.
“I don’t think I’d want to live where there’s so much hate that money is the only thing on your mind.”
“Just fucking leave me alone. Go!”
“My Aden wouldn’t be happy in this fancy house.”
“You never had an Aden,” I tell her, ignoring that she’s right.
“My Aden would waste away in this cold world. He laughed, he…loved.”
“Get the fuck away!” I yell, again.
“I’m going, Aden. I won’t bother you again,” she whispers, as she walks up beside me before she leaves. She doesn’t touch me, but she stands right beside me, staring straight ahead—not at me.
“You need to know,” she whispers. “The reason I kept the truth from you for so long might have started because I was afraid you were going to sue me. It quickly changed into fear that I would lose you, though. I couldn’t imagine not having you in my life. I knew it would destroy me and… I was right,” she finally whispers.
I was wrong. That’s the death punch. That’s the punch that kills and it does it so swiftly, so direct that I have to brace my feet, because it makes me stagger under the pain.
“Leave,” I order her, looking down at the ground.
She walks back toward the golf cart and I can’t breathe. My heart, my head, my fucking soul is choking on the scent of vanilla.
“I’ll walk. I can call a cab on the trip back down,” she tells Derek, and then she starts walking.
I hear the click of her shoes against the pavement. Each sound taking her further away. Each click ripping my heart open and leaving me to die.
56
Hope
I’ve almost made it back to the gate when I hear the electric whirr of the golf cart behind me. I turn, expecting to see the man who works for Aden. I figure Aden has ordered him to make sure I leave. My heart jumps up into my throat when I see Aden instead. He comes to a stop beside me and we just stare at each other, neither one of us speaking for a bit. My gaze is glued to him, afraid to blink—just in case he disappears.
“You fucked up,” he growls, getting out and standing beside of me.
“I know,” I whisper.
“Just now. You fucked up. You put a personal letter in the envelope and basically confessed to every fucking thing you did.”
“I… I guess… Did you read the letter?”
“I started to, realized what it was, and discovered I don’t have to, because you fucked up.”
“How… you really should read the whole letter, Aden.”
“I don’t have to. You fucked up.”
“Will you quit saying I fucked up?” I ask, or more like demand, feeling frustrated. “You need to read the letter!”
“No. I’m not listening to any more shit. You fucked up and now I’m in control.”
“You’re in… control.”
“Exactly.”
“What exactly are you in control of?”
“You.”
“Me?” I ask, not quite understanding.
“You.”
“Maybe you could tell me just how you are in control of me?”
“I have your confession. I own you now. You don’t give me what I want, exactly what I want, then you can lose everything important to you. You don’t give me what I demand, I’ll take a fucking wrecking ball to your precious motel,” he growls.
I tap down the fear that begins to rise. I’m a Lucas. If he takes everything, I’ll regroup and survive. That’s what we do. That’s what Ida Sue has spent the last couple months pounding in my head.
“What is it you want?” I ask tentatively.
“You’ll be moving in with me.”
“I’ll be… but, what about Jack?”
“He’ll be moving in with us too.”
“I…and then what?”
“We’ll be renovating the motel.”
“But, I just had it renovated. There’s really not money to—”
“The living quarters are too fucking small. We’ll change those to a kitchen and dining facility and maybe a fucking laundry service.”
“I…You’re going to invest in the motel? I don’t think I understand.”
“We’ll build a house on that empty lot behind the motel, that way Jack can have a real yard,” he continues and that’s when it hits me and when it does, it’s sweet. It’s so fucking sweet it takes my breath away.
“Jack does need a real yard,” I whisper, tears sliding wet down my cheeks.
“And our fucking bedroom will be big enough that a king size bed fits in it.”
“Okay…”
“Your tin can car is gone. I will not be crawling in that damn thing ever again.”
“I kind of like my car,” I whisper, as Aden finally bends his head down. My hand comes up to cup the side of his face. His beard teases the palm of my hand and I take in a deep, shuddering breath.
“Babe, your car is shit. Jack needs something safe.”
“Whatever you say,” I tell him. “You’re in control.”
/>
That’s when his hands come around me to pull me into him, his fingers flexing into my ass.
“We’ll have to come to California on business often. We’ll need a place here too.”
“You have a place here, Aden,” I answer, as he leans down, kissing my cheek—kissing my tears.
“I hate this place. It’s cold and lonely. It’s empty.”
“It is?” I ask, tears falling harder.
“I’m dying here,” he answers simply.
“Then it’s good you’re demanding a new house,” I whisper.
“The new place here will need to be smaller, stairs are scary for kids. We want to keep Jack safe.”
“I like that idea.”
“It won’t be flashy, I’m not going to be working as much, so we shouldn’t waste money.”
“I really like that idea.”
“And when I do work, you and Jack will be with me.”
“But the motel—”
“I’ll be hiring staff. You won’t be working as much either.”
“I won’t?”
“No.”
“What will I be doing?”
“Making sure Jack and I are happy.”
“I see. What makes you happy?”
“Having you with us.”
“Well, you are the one in control,” I whisper, my heart so full it feels like it might be bursting.
“Exactly.”
“Can I make one small suggestion?” I ask him, holding his gaze with mine and getting lost in his dark eyes.
“I might be willing to allow that.”
“These new houses?”
“Those are non-negotiable.”
“They are?”
“Definitely.”
“Well, it’s just, you said they would be smaller and I was wondering exactly how many rooms they would have?”
“The usual,” he murmurs, and he bends down to kiss the side of my neck. I decide to be a good prisoner and lean my head to the side to give him easier access. “Kitchen, dining, family room, maybe three bedrooms with bathrooms…”
“I don’t know, I was thinking four bedrooms,” I murmur, sighing as I feel his tongue slide along a muscle in my neck.
“I might be willing to negotiate on that, if you’re willing to hammer out the deal with me later.”
“I can do that,” I answer, as he nibbles along that same muscle sending warmth through my body.
“I warn you, I can be a very hard negotiator.”
“That sounds promising. I only have one more request, really,” I tell him, pulling my head back to look up at the man that I love so much it hurts.
“What’s that?” he asks, as I push my fingers into the hair at the back of his neck and push his head closer to me.
“Can we add a nursery near the master bedroom?” I ask, watching his eyes closely.
I can see the exact moment he processes my words, and there’s no mistaking the confusion and the hopeful look that flares in his eyes.
“A nursery?” he asks.
“Oh, Aden. You really, really should have read that letter,” I tell him, right before I press my lips to his and I let him take control of the kiss.
After all, I’m his to command.
And I couldn’t be happier.
The End.
(Turn the page for the epilogue and bonus content!)
Epilogue
Women’s hearts are breaking all around the world today as Hollywood’s most eligible bachelor was taken off the market. Major motion picture star, award winning director and screenwriter, Aden McIntyre, took the plunge today in a small ceremony in Vegas surrounded by family and friends.
Aden said his I do’s to small town motel owner, Hope Lucas. The couple are expecting their first child this Spring, though they are being very private with the details. Witnesses say that the ceremony was filled with lots of laughs and was officiated by an Elvis impersonator. There was a huge party afterwards, in which Aden and Hope treated the entire staff to a private showing of Aden’s latest work.
We wish the happy couple the best!
Congratulations Aden and Hope on getting your very own, happily ever after.
(Don’t forget to turn the page to get a sneak peek at the next book in this new series!)
Taking It Slow
Prologue
Titan
“I can’t believe she’s marrying him,” the girl next to me murmurs. I look at her again. I say again because she’s caught my eye a few times tonight. She’s tight. Rockin’ bod, firm ass, tits that you could bury your cock in—a solid nine on the fuckability scale.
“I can’t believe he’s marrying her,” I shrug, leaning back against the white leather cushion of the sofa. We’re in the private dining and casino area of the Calypso, a new place in Vegas that caters to the rich and famous. My buddy Aden just tied the knot and they’re out there dancing like crazy fucking lunatics. I love my homeboy, but that guy is living proof that some white people just can’t dance for shit. Apparently he has a little more rhythm in the sack, because you can clearly see Hope’s baby-belly in that white wedding gown she’s wearing.
“What’s wrong with my sister?” the girl asks, shooting me a look to freeze ice on my dick, which makes me smirk. Shit. That’s why she’s here. This is Hope’s sister. I heard one of them was here and that the other was in Istanbul, Kabul, somewhere like that reporting or something. I guess I should play nice, but this girl looks like she can give as good as she takes—which is what makes my dick stand up and pay attention—so, I decide to let it all hang out.
“For starters she lied to my boy.”
“Your boy was an asshole.”
“Don’t change the fact she chained him up in lies for over two months,” I respond, taking a sip of my Jack and Coke, letting it roll down my throat and enjoying it all the way down.
“After the shit he said to her, she should have had him checked into a mental hospital and let the doctors use him as a model for the latest white jacket designs,” she says. I turn to look at her and she’s staring longingly at my cigarettes.
“You want a smoke?”
“I don’t smoke,” she sighs wistfully.
“Woman you’re looking at my smokes like your name is Hoover and you’re about to suck them down.”
“That’s better than where I thought you were going with that.”
“I changed my mind mid-stream,” I shrug.
“Thoughtful of you.”
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“You look less than thrilled being here,” the girl says.
“I hate weddings.”
“Why?”
“They’re fucking contagious, like the damn crotch rot. Had one of my brothers here not long ago. Now Aden’s fallen like a fucking rock.”
“I’m with you. If Aunt Ida Sue tells me one more time, ‘your turn next little Faith’, I’m going to hurl.”
“She’s your Aunt? That woman is trippy as hell. Had to dance with her three times.”
“Awe. That’s sweet.”
“No, woman. It’s sweet if it’s a normal dance. That woman was all up in my business. Started talking about how I needed to come down to her farm and pet her cow. I don’t even want to know what the fuck that was code for.”
“Uh… it’s not code. She has a pet cow.”
“You’re shittin’ me?”
“She calls her Hamburger. She gave Hope and Aden one for a wedding present. She named her Buttermilk.”
I listen to her and shake my head. “You white people are strange as hell.”
“To be fair, I think that’s more of a Lucas thing.”
“Fair enough.”
“Oh God.”
“What’s that?”
“I just noticed there are four women up there dancing, all of them married, all of them kin to me, and every last one of them pregnant.”
“So?”
“I hate pregnant women,” she says.
“Why?” I ask,
mildly interested. Shit, most women I know go all doe-eyed when you start talking babies.
“That stuff is contagious, like crotch rot—though to be fair, we call it crotch critters.”
“Crotch critters?”
“Pretty much.”
“I don’t know how to process that.”
“I don’t know how to process that you just said you were going to process something,” she answers, frowning up at me.
She’s funny. Much better company than anyone else I’ve met here tonight, but I’m about done.
“I’m going to blow this party and go find a bottle and a blackjack table.”
“Now that sounds like my kind of party.”
“Care to join?”
“We should start all over,” she answers, and I frown wondering if I’ve already had too much to drink.
“Not sure how to process that either.”
“What’s your name?”
“Titan Marsh.”
“I’m Faith Lucas.”
“It’s a good name.”
“We’ll be friends,” she says, like just saying it is akin to writing it in blood. Whatever, I just need away from the wedding scene.
“Good to know. You leaving with me or waiting around to see if you catch the urge to get married or knocked up?”
“I’m leaving. Let’s go find that bottle, Big Daddy,” she says, walking in front of me—which gives me a view of her ass. A view I like, so I watch it and enjoy every step we take away from Aden and Hope’s wedding.
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