Flipping her onto her back once again, he entered her with one hard thrust, then eyes locked on hers, he took them both over the edge. Chloe’s orgasm taking all the breath from her lungs, as her body contracted around his throbbing penis, her muscles squeezing him until with a cry of his own he emptied himself inside her. The last thing he heard as he collapsed on top of Chloe was her cries of pleasure, his orgasm so intense all conscious thought had been blocked.
They came back to their senses together, aware that it had grown cold in the cave. But Jack wasn’t willing to let go of Chloe just then, instead of getting up to feed the fire, he pulled the blankets over them and cuddled her in his arms. Warm and safe in Jack’s arms Chloe fell asleep more content than she’d ever been in her life.
When they awoke hours later, it was to find that it grown dark outside, but that the rain had stopped. Neither wanted to get out of bed, but the fire had gone out completely and the animals needed to be checked on. They dressed slowly, stopping often to touch and kiss each other, both thinking about the future. When they were finally dressed, Jack pulled Chloe into his arms and kissed her thoroughly thinking about how lucky he was to have found her.
Much to their relief the animals were all happily grazing the in the dark of the night, obviously relieved that the rain had stopped. Chloe knew that it would still be days before they could get down the mountain, but looking at Jack in the moonlight she wasn’t all that sorry. Jack again seemed to be reading her mind because he spoke the exact words she was thinking.
“I guess it won’t be so bad stuck up here for a few days.” He said, wiggling his eyebrows at her.
He put his arm around her and pulled her close and together they watched the night sky. When they finally made it back to the cave, Jack made love to Chloe thoroughly, taking her higher than she’d ever been before and cementing their love with his words and actions. They fell asleep as the first rays of sunlight began to appear on the horizon, but neither cared about the sunshine that morning, their bodies sated with the pleasure they’d shared, they slept wrapped together.
It took over a week for the water to recede enough for help to get to them, but they didn’t mind the time together. When the food they’d brought ran out, Jack was able to provide them with enough meat that they weren’t in any danger of starving, and Chloe found a variety of edible plants to supplement their diet. The time together gave allowed them to get to know one another, and by the time they came down off the mountain it was clear to both of them that nothing was ever going to separate them again.
When the search party found them, Owen was the first to greet them, his look of apology clear when he met Chloe’s eyes. She been braced for anything but the words that came out of his mouth, “Chloe I owe you an apology, I guess Jack wasn’t the only one Isobel left her mark on. It was wrong of me to assume that you were anything more than what you appeared to be.”
Chloe studied Owen for a second, aware that all eyes were on her. “I really didn’t know that Brandon was going to show up. Owen, I love your brother, I don’t care about his money, I don’t care about some ranch in Australia, I just want to be happy with him.”
“I know that now, I guess I have a few issues that I need to work out. Marissa and I had a long talk while we were waiting for the water to recede. I’ll try to be a better friend from now on. Thank you for risking your life for my brother, it should have been me up here with him, but I was so focused on what I wanted, I lost sight of what’s important. I promise that will never happen again.” Owen’s words were obviously costing him, so Chloe decided to forgive him.
“I think I understand Owen, you were only trying to protect your brother, I promise you I’ll never do anything to hurt him the way Isobel did.” Chloe said, jumping down from her horse and waiting for Owen to approach her.
When he did, she gave him a big hug and whispered in his ear, “I think you just need a good woman in your life.”
Owen roared with laughter, “I think my brother has the only good one left all sealed up. But if you know someone, I’d be willing to meet her.”
Chloe watched him laughing understanding exactly what he felt, the relief that they’d come to an understanding was shared by them both. But the time for seriousness was over so she said, “I think we should leave the match making to Marissa.” Making everyone laugh.
Winter came to Coldwater Canyon with a vengeance, the plentiful rainfall of the summer quickly turned to snow as the weather changed, but everyone bore it with good humor. December brought record amounts of snow but the residents stayed cheerful through Christmas knowing that they’d survive it together, everyone looking out for everyone else.
The clinic had been finished for almost four months and Chloe, Jack, and Josh had moved into the cramped apartment in the back, preferring to share such a small space to the rustic cabins they’d spent the summer in. It was a small sacrifice to pay for them all to be together and Chloe and Jack hadn’t been separated since they returned from their perilous trip to the mountains the summer before.
The ranch house wouldn’t be finished until the next summer, but they were comfy and cozy in the little apartment. Josh and Chloe had bonded over the fall and he now called her mama which had been strange at first, but now she never even thought about it. Jack had proposed on a warm night in October down by the stream at Honey Hills, making love to Chloe after he’d slipped the ring on her finger.
Wrapped in a blanket against the cold, they’d laughed when a commotion in the bushes turned out to be the moose they’d seen all those months ago. “Looks like he’s headed to lower ground for the winter.” Jack said, as they watched him walk away.
“Maybe he has a sweetheart waiting for him.” Chloe had suggested.
“Then he’s a lucky man just like I am.” Jack said, kissing her tenderly. “I love you Chloe. I didn’t think it was possible to love anyone as much as I love you. Life seems so full of possibilities now, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“I love you too Jack, I think I’ve been waiting for you my entire life. Promise me we’ll be together forever, I don’t want to think about my life without you.” Chloe reached up and stroked Jack’s cheek, loving the feel of his rough skin under her hand.
“I promise you I’m never going to let you go, for as long as I live you’re going to be by my side, good times or bad we’ll face life together.” Jack said, the kiss he gave her full of all the hopes and dreams they shared.
“I can’t wait to start our life together. It’s a new beginning for all of us.”
The end.
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His Second Chance
Once not sure if he'd survive, now he has a second chance at life
An 'edge of your seat' romance, brought to you by bestselling author Ellie Etienne.
Birdie Campbell is a talented tattoo artist specializing in scar cover-ups.
One day, she receives an email from someone looking to get a tattoo to cover a scar, someone who simply goes by the letter ‘A’.
Feeling drawn to the stranger despite her friend's wariness, Birdie meets up with the mysterious person.
To her surprise and delight, the stranger turns out to be well-known billionaire and all round hunk Adam Simpson.
The two agree on a design for his tattoo and end up bonding over their problematic pasts.
Inevitably, soon their mutual respect blooms into something more romantic.
But it won’t all be smooth sailing, because Adam is hiding a secret; and it's about to get out!
Will Birdie be able to handle the shock?
Or will what Adam's holding back tear apart any future they could've had together?
Find out in this steamy yet secretive romance by hit author Ellie Etienne of BWWM Club.
Suitable for over 18s only due to sex scenes so hot, you'll
desire your own tattooed billionaire to mark you as his own.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 1
It was dark, but it wasn’t a stormy night, except in front of Birdie.
Birdie Campbell was hunched over the desk in her home, which was right above her tattoo studio. She had woken up at one, barely an hour after going to sleep, with an image in her head that fought to get out, fought to find form.
Birdie couldn’t ignore that fight. She didn’t have a choice. She had kicked her way out of the sheets that always seemed to tangle around her legs, grabbed the sketch pad and pencil that was an extension of herself, and stumbled to the desk by the window, turning on only the table lamp.
In that rather feeble light, Birdie sketched as if she were caught somewhere between a dream and a nightmare.
She had to get it down on paper. It wasn’t a choice. The vision was fighting to find form, and only she could give it that form.
Birdie could already see how it would look. It would flaunt a scar from a C-section, and it would channel the protectiveness and passion of a mother who had almost lost her child. It would come alive on her, become so much more than Birdie’s vision. It would become that mother’s badge of honor.
When she started doing tattoos, she had done what everybody else had done. She’d tattooed Chinese, Japanese, and Korean characters that could very well have come from a menu if clients requested them. She had done the usual butterflies and flowers that meant nothing more than bragging rights for having a tattoo at all.
When you’ve been doing something for a decade, you have a lot of time to figure out how you want to do it. Perhaps eighteen was a bit young to find your calling, but once you did, what was the point in looking back?
But despite her skill with the tattoo gun, despite her way of putting clients at ease, despite even her talent, she only realized that she had found what she was meant to do when she had had that one client who she would never forget.
Birdie had been twenty-two and still working for the man from whom she had finally bought the tattoo studio, and boy, the weight of that was still on her slender shoulders. Nathan had been out when a young woman who had once been shot in the side came in looking for something.
Those haunted eyes had struck something inside Birdie. The young woman – Celeste – had been looking for more than just a tattoo. She had been looking for a way to deal with the trauma and the unfairness that life had dealt her.
Celeste had been walking home, looking forward to spending the evening with her boyfriend over a glass of wine when she’d been caught in the crossfire. An innocent bystander had caught a stray bullet. It was a clichéd story, but when a cliché happens to you, it changes your life. It had changed everything for Celeste.
The bullet had barely missed her kidney. Doctors had called it a miracle. But she had spent months trying to put her life back together and she hadn’t been doing too well. Every time she found a breakthrough, she seemed to hit another wall.
Celeste had spilled all of this to Birdie over a glass of sun tea. She’d confided in the young tattoo artist that she was sick of seeing the scar. It was a reminder of how she had failed to get past a random incident that might still end up destroying her life.
Birdie had been astounded by the woman’s strength. She had been around her own age then. The scar, she had declared, should be Celeste’s symbol of victory. A bullet hadn’t stopped her. Why would she hide it? Why should she consider it a mark of failure when it was a symbol of her strength that had helped her survive?
The look on Celeste’s face as she realized that Birdie was right had been like watching a flower bloom. So, Birdie had come up with a design, right then and there, that created a blooming rose from that scar. It turned that symbol of survival into one of beauty that promised to thrive, not just survive.
By the time Nathan had come back to the studio, Celeste had declared that she would not hear of having anybody except Birdie work on her. So, they had worked, and grown together.
Celeste had found hope and rediscovered strength that she had forgotten that she had.
Birdie had discovered her calling.
Now, Birdie worked quickly. The C-section scar was a symbol of failure to that mother. She had failed her child by not being able to give him a normal birth. Birdie would turn it into a delicate vine of baby roses that hid its sturdiness so sweetly. When she was done, her client would see that scar how Birdie saw it: something to prove that she had been willing to do whatever was necessary to give her child life. She would have been willing to have her child ripped out of her, if it had come to that.
It was another hour before Birdie got the shading and the lines perfect. It was deceptively simple, but it would need time and concentration.
Birdie would give her both, and mother and child, now a three-year-old, would be happier for it.
How long we punish ourselves because of things that we could never have helped, mused Birdie as she finally sat back and worked the kinks out of her neck. She hadn’t realized how cramped she had been getting. That was nothing new. Birdie could lose herself completely in her art.
Of course, she could only do that while sketching. While she was working on her clients, it was important to talk to them and listen to whatever they had to say. Sometimes they needed reassurance. Sometimes they needed a firm hand, and others just needed somebody to listen to them.
It was odd how often we refuse to listen to the people we claim to love, too.
Sighing, she got up and walked to the window. Looking out, she saw the familiar sight of a neighborhood that was on the verge of gentrification. It was already getting a bit too fashionable, really. Soon, so much of its character would be lost. But it was home – the only place she had ever truly considered home.
Perhaps she was contributing to that loss of character. Word had gotten out that she did unusual work with scars. Clientele had changed. Instead of people desperate to find closure, she found herself dealing with people with whom she would expect to have nothing in common.
But underneath wealth, fame, and layers of privilege, she had realized, were people – just people. Everybody had scars. Everybody tried to hide those scars. She convinced a few people to show off the scars because they’re a sign of strength and experience. Every experience contributes towards making you who you are. Hiding any of them is hiding a part of you.
Birdie knew what it was like to survive. She had come from nothing and made herself into… Well, she wasn’t too sure. But she had a home, her art, and she was financially stable. She had good friends. She had work she truly loved. She even had a business now, and with her newer, wealthier clientele, she could breathe easy and let her business grow without worrying too much about paying the bills or interest rates.
It was a good place, thought Birdie. She was in a good place.
And, of course, there was Marley.
Birdie’s full, wide mouth curved in a smile that was sheer delight as she thought of Marley, her partner in everything. Marley came from a different world. Birdie had been suspicious of him at first, thinking that he was just slumming it and would go back to his old world and his old ways soon enough.
But he hadn’t. He had stuck with her and gotten past all of her defenses to be one of her closest friends. She knew that clients often thought that they were a couple.
They had that ease of being around each other that you usually only saw in couples who had been together for a long time. Sometimes, they were told what a beautiful couple they made.
Birdie usually shrugged that off.
She knew she made a striking picture – she was tall, had curves in all the right places, and grace in movement that made people think of a dancer. Maybe, in another life
, Birdie would’ve been a dancer. Her hair was in long braids that were meticulously maintained. But it was Birdie’s face that was arresting. Her dark grey eyes were startlingly expressive. The rich, dark skin looked like the most expensive of coffee, the kind you would never think of ruining with milk or sugar. The planes and angles of her face made photographers weep.
But Birdie never chose to be photographed, except to promote the tattoo studio.
Once she had taken over the studio – with Marley, of course – she had decided to rebrand and redesign everything. Marley had been bemused, but supportive. They had turned it into Visions.
Birdie hadn’t had to explain to Marley why it had to be called Visions. He knew – dreams and nightmares could all be turned into things of beauty if you have the right vision. Sometimes, they came when you wanted them. Sometimes they came because you needed them, whether you liked it or not.
Marley was tall, broad-shouldered, with a cheerful smile that belied a quick temper. But Marley was as quick to forgive and laugh as he was to rise to anger.
He really was a gorgeous specimen of manhood, thought Birdie with a grin. If he weren’t the closest thing she had to family, she might even have considered dating him.
But he was family, and she wouldn’t change that for all the world.
He was the only family she had now.
It was with resignation that Birdie realized it was three in the morning. She could grab a few hours’ sleep before she had to be up and at the gym, where she would put in a couple of rounds with a punching bag. It was important to Birdie to be strong and fit. There had been a time when she had been reed thin and weak, and she had been picked on far too much.
Now, nobody could pick on her. Not without Birdie kicking their asses.
But now she was too wired to sleep. Her mind refused to shut down and go to sleep.
Giving up, Birdie kicked her legs out of bed again and sat up. She grabbed her phone and scrolled to find the email that was the source of some of her discomfiture.
Be My Everything (Brothers From Money Book 11) Page 15