Tequila Sunset: A Military Erotic Romance (Sexy Siesta Series Book 2)
Page 8
As a man, he learned how to trust the Marine at his Six and the Marine at his Twelve. Now it looked as if history wanted to play a game of fucking repeat, and it burned him alive inside.
It had taken damn near all his life to learn how to trust again and four damn seconds to rip that all away.
Blake scoured over the bottles, bypassed the tumbler, and went straight for the bottle of Johnny. His favorite since he and Adrian had raided his father’s stash the spring before joining up with the Marines. As a last hurrah before heading out they’d done some crazy shit down at the lake that night. Hell, he wondered if their at-the-time girlfriends still thought about them and their wild night of fun.
He briefly smiled at the past as it slipped away, replaced with memories even a fifth of whiskey couldn’t drown. Doesn’t mean I never tried.
Blake eased over to the only window in his father’s office. With his arms resting on the small ledge, he looked out over the construction site that sat back about hundred or so yards from the main drag.
A thick layer of dust settled on the doublewide pane. Bright light from the yard’s security lamps fought back the night but didn’t make a dent through the thick layer of dirt on the glass. He didn’t miss how it summed up his life at the moment— unclear and no way to know where to step next.
Still clutching the fifth from the bar, Blake threw himself down in the black leather high-back and shoved aside the blueprints cluttering every square inch of work space. His gaze moved to the chair where he knew Isabella had spent the better part of everyday for the past year.
Isabella. My sweet Bella.
A day didn’t go by that he didn’t think about her sensual curves and kissable lips. Didn’t matter where the hell he was in the world, her voice followed him. The way his name rolled off her sweet lips sent a rush of blood to his dick every time. Even now the memory of the short skirts she preferred, paired with her favorite peacock painted cowboy boots, sent all his blood south.
Heat stirred in his balls just thinking about how she handled the workers when they tried to get fresh with her. The way she made even the toughest of men feel no bigger than gum on the bottom of her boot fired Blake’s libido.
Her wicked ability to cuss out anyone who challenged her authority in a mixture of Spanish and English flat-out amazed him. The times he was home, unless he saw a need to step in, he just sat back and watched as the men got their balls handed to them by the bravest damn woman he’d ever met.
Fire blazed in that woman, and he loved to stoke it. The sparks in her green eyes made him want to do sinful things with her. Things mamas warned their girls about.
He rocked forward to rest his elbows on the desk. If Adrian were here he’d already have Blake’s hide for just looking, much less the downright perverted thoughts he had for the man’s little sister.
On the other side, it was no secret his father wanted him to go for it. His old man thought the world of Isabella and made it crystal clear Blake was a fool for staying away. But two words he’d been forced to say to Adrian—I promise—faded the lines of the black and white rule book he followed, keeping Isabella beyond his reach.
He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. Being home stirred up a fucking barrel full of emotions he didn’t know how to handle. Keeping that promise just might mean his own lonely death.
Son of a bitch, how the hell was he supposed to handle all of this shit without her?
His gaze landed on a framed picture by the door. A happiness he’d lost and thought he’d never know again radiated out at him from the image. It was one of the few times he and Adrian had been on leave together. Isabella had insisted on a group photo the minute they walked through the door.
She’d met them on the first knock and jumped in Blake’s arms. The minute her emerald eyes connected with his, he was lost. Little Bella was now an all-grown-up Isabella, complete with the sexiest smile and summer-kissed legs he’d ever seen.
It was the last time they were all together.
A year already and every time he looked at their smiling faces the hole in his heart ripped anew. He reared back and slammed his fist into the wall. Flimsy paneling cracked under his abuse. Instead of easing his anger as he’d hoped, it only grew. He ground his teeth against the ache that clutched his heart, unable to take a deep breath.
He couldn’t go through this again. He couldn’t lose another person in his life. Promise or no. He hung his head a moment then straightened. Adrian would understand. Or the Devil had just reserved a special seat with his name on it. The way he saw it, it didn’t really matter much. He was already in hell—might as well make it worth the fucking ride.
He fisted the neck of the bottle and cracked the seal. The first swallow hit home. The familiar burn eased back the fingers of tension in his chest.
“This is for you.” First, he raised the bottle to the framed image of his father on the corner of the desk then to the image of his best friend. He threw back another swallow then carefully, almost reverently, placed the bottle on the cleared space of the desk.
Every day he thought about how it could have—should have—been him sent home as KIA instead of Adrian. Less than a foot more to the right and it would have been.
He wasn’t built for all this emotional shit. The dumbass who said time healed everything was fucking lying through his teeth. He called bullshit straight out of the gate on that one.
He glanced at the clock. Just enough time. Maybe. He’d need to call in a couple of favors though.
In a swift movement that hailed to his training, he palmed his cell, Isabella already primed on autodial. If that wasn’t a clue right there that he needed to correct his wrong, he didn’t know what was.
His gaze landed on the dark-haired beauty in the photo. Normally Adrian wouldn’t have allowed a womanizing man near his sister, but since Isabella, Blake had changed. Like many big brothers, he couldn’t fault Adrian for caring for his sister. He had a handle on how Latin families guarded their own. Hell, he’d probably be the same way if he had a sister. But it was time—past time—for him to show just how far he was ready to go for her.
The phone rang several times before she answered. “Bueno.”
He paused a beat at the sound of her soft, dulcet voice. She made just saying hello want him to taste her sweet lips.
He let out a quiet breath then quickly said, “Isabella, I need a favor. Can we meet at the ranch in about an hour? And bring the contracts from Dad’s latest client. I can’t remember the name right off hand, but there’s something we need to go over. Thanks.” With that he cut the connection. No way in hell would he give her time to tell him no. Or ask him about his spotty excuse.
A year ago today Adrian had been ripped out of their lives, leaving a hole in both of their hearts. Now with the heavy loss of his father, he was done saying goodbye. Tonight he would break every fucking rule standing between him and Isabella to make sure history didn’t playback on repeat.
No balls, no glory.
He watched as the sun set below the city skyline with only one thought: Come sunrise, Isabella will be mine.
****
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Talina writes across multiple genres which include erotic romance, spicy romantic suspense & paranormal romance. Within her worlds you'll find steamy fast paced plots with unique characters filled with passion and grit. From sheriffs to military men to shape shifters and vampires, there is no hot blooded hero she doesn't love to write-and read-about. Visit her website to grab free wallpapers, excerpts, soundtracks and more!
Watch for This Summer’s Next Sunrise…
Sunrise for Three
Sexy Siesta #3
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Tequila Sunset
Copyright © 2014 by Talina Saine
Excerpt from His By Sunrise copyri
ght © 2014 by Talina Saine
Edited by Em Petrova
Cover design 2014 by Bookin’ It Designs
Ebook ISBN: 9781311722874
All rights reserved. No part of this work may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without the permission in writing from Author.
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