Beautiful Monster: a standalone age-gap romance

by Sara Cate

  “That was fast,” she says with a smile, and I can’t bring myself to be angry. Sure, I want to yell at her. Inside, I’m seething. I need her to be honest. I need everything between us to be transparent so that every single decision we make, we make together.

  But I’m at a loss, and deep down, I’m scared as hell. What if I yell, and she leaves? What if I have to do what I did six months ago and push her away? I don’t know if I can go through that again.

  Letting the fear take over, I approach her and pull her small shoulders into a tight hug. Clutching her body in my hands, I press my face against her neck.

  “Alex, what is it?” she gasps.

  “I told you everything, Sunny. I didn’t leave a single thing out. I need you to do the same.”

  Holding my hair between her fingers, she whispers. “I am…” It’s obvious she’s holding back.

  “I don’t know if you’re trying to protect me or if you’re trying to protect us, but we have no future if you keep me out of your life.”

  “Valerie told you.” Her voice is quiet as she slumps against my arms.

  “Belize, Sunny. You turned down Belize for what...this?” I say gesturing around to the house. “If I push you away, would you go? If I told you I didn’t love you anymore, would it change your mind?”

  She squeezes me tighter. “I wouldn’t believe you.”

  “Then, take the job and don’t force my hand.” It pains me to say it. It actually hurts my chest to say those words, knowing that our time is limited, and this will keep happening over and over again.

  “I won’t leave you.”

  My blood boils. I hate myself for wanting her to stay. I hate that she wants to give up her whole future for me, and I hate that I love her so fucking much I have to endure this pain. Taking her face in my hands, I force her to look at me.

  “Then, I’m coming with you.”

  With her hands clasped around my shirt and in my hair, I watch the tears pool in her eyes. “But what about the house?”

  “Fuck the house, Sunny. It’s just a house.”

  My chest tightens, keeping her face just inches from mine. It feels too good to be true. Too perfect to accept.

  “But you’ve made so much progress this year, Alex. You’ve built a life here. I can’t take that away.”

  Taking her lips in mine, I let her feel how serious I am. Could all my years of throwing my life away really come to this? Having everything? Having something better than perfection?

  “It’s nothing without you,” I speak against her lips.

  “What about George?” she cries, tears streaming.

  “We’ll bring him with,” I laugh. “He’ll love it there. And then after Belize, we’ll go to the next place, and the next place. And as long as you’re there, I’m there.”

  As she sinks into my arms, I try to process how this happened. And why the fuck I ever fought it. Sunny may be younger than me, but I wasted most of my life waiting for happiness to find me. I just never expected I would find it right next door.

  Sunny

  A little over a year later…

  “God, it’s so good to be home,” I moan, rolling over to wrap my arms around his torso. He’s already awake and has been for over an hour. He’s always up before me, answering emails on his phone and putting out fires before he’s even had his coffee.

  “Yes, it is,” he mumbles, putting his phone down on the stand and rolling me over to trace kisses down my neck.

  Wrapping my legs around his waist, I try to ease him into place. I love how he’s always ready to go every morning.

  “Why, Mrs. Caldwell,” he groans, shifting his body to meet mine.

  “Promise me we’ll start every day like this,” I hum as he grinds his hips against me.

  “I think as long as you stay on the pill, that won’t be a problem.” He peels my clothes off slowly, and I silently think about him filling me with his seed. How eagerly I would trade in the luxury of morning sex for the chance to carry a little piece of him inside of me. But I promised him at least five years. So, for now I’ll enjoy my orgasms before 9:00am.

  As he fills the space between my legs, I look up at him and think about the first time I saw him, standing across the yard. I take myself back to the early days of our forbidden love, when the idea of being together tore us apart. I relive the moments that led up to this, when we fell in love, fell apart, and found each other again.

  He settles his weight on my body, burying his face in my neck and wrapping his arms around me so that we are entangled and practically one. Our bodies move in a sensual rhythm until his ecstasy is mine and mine is his.

  After we’ve both finished, I trace my fingers along the skin of his back. Neither of us move for a long time.

  “I love you,” he murmurs against my cheek.

  Then, he places a kiss on my head and rolls over until he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away from me. “It’s strange to be back here,” he says, staring down at the ring on his finger.

  “You worried?” I ask, reaching out and holding his hand in mine. I was afraid that returning home would be difficult for him. This town holds too many difficult memories for him, of things he’s done and who he used to be. For so long, Alex lived up to people’s expectations of him, mostly when they underestimated him. If he’s back here, will he fall into that same old routine?

  We talked a lot about settling down somewhere else. With every place we visited and talked about staying, the decision just kept coming back to this house. This is our home, where our love was born.

  When he looks back at me, the morning sun bright behind him, I take a mental picture of how beautiful he is in this moment. With a glowing tan and a thick beard, he doesn’t look like the defeated man I met a year ago. He’s aged, comfortable in his own skin like he never was before.

  “Not worried at all, rain cloud.”

  His phone rings, but he ignores it as he leans down to press his lips to mine.

  “You can answer that,” I whisper because I can tell he wants to. We’re supposed to be on vacation from work, but Alexander loves his work. I see the way it fulfills him and how it’s built back a piece of him that was broken.

  “Thank you,” he murmurs against my mouth before he jumps up and grabs his phone from the nightstand.

  “Tell Joachim this is technically our honeymoon,” I call as Alex disappears into the en-suite bathroom.

  “He knows,” Alex laughs. “I’m the one bugging him.”

  George jumps onto the bed and cuddles with me, purring by my head while he waits patiently for his breakfast.

  Before Alex emerges from the bathroom in his running clothes, I climb out of bed and put on a robe, carrying George in my arms. The view from my bedroom window, the one that crosses the yard to my old house, stops me. The large picture window overlooks our pool, the pool house, and the yard that is now owned by a young family with three little ones, who all look like they’re eagerly awaiting their chance to dive into the water.

  In the dead of summer, I bet they’re out there every morning. Alexander and I have only been home for a week now, and not a day has gone by that I haven’t heard them out there.

  We decided to keep the house during our year abroad. Cadence happily looked after the place while we were gone. Mom decided to sell the house not long after we left anyway, so my sister took the opportunity to live on her own until she saved up enough for her own place.

  She got to watch George for us, too.

  Carrying the cat out to the kitchen, I feed him first, then start on the coffee. Reaching for the mugs, the glint of my diamond setting catches the sun, and I pause, looking at the ring on my finger.

  Six months ago, while I was finishing up a job in Australia, he proposed. Two weeks later, we said our vows on the beach in Hawaii. My mom and Cadence were there. His sister, Charlotte, and his new best friend and business partner that he met in Belize flew out. Just the six of us with a minister on a windy Saturday. My dre
ss wasn’t even white, but I didn’t care. Neither of us did. We just wanted to make that promise and start our lives.

  Since that day, it’s been a whirlwind. He launched his business, a marketing agency geared toward pairing young artists with major brands. I took on my biggest job to date, a collaborative piece with Valerie and Gino in New York, and we were so busy working and traveling that we never took a minute to celebrate married life or enjoy a honeymoon.

  So, we made this homecoming our honeymoon. No one is allowed to bother us for a whole week. With my birthday tomorrow, we made big plans to do absolutely nothing but sit around the pool and enjoy each other all day long. Being my twenty-first birthday, everyone including Hanna and Valerie are bugging the shit out of me to go out with them, but I keep putting them off. Call me old fashioned, but there’s absolutely nothing in a bar that sounds better than my new husband at home on the couch.

  Alexander weaves his arms around my waist and kisses my neck. He settles in, taking a deep breath as we just hold each other, my body pressed between his and the countertop.

  “You sure you don’t want a party tomorrow?” he asks. Always so concerned I’m missing out on something, which only makes me laugh. The last year has been so busy, a constant adventure, that I’ll need at least six months to recover. I laugh, squeezing his arms a little tighter.

  “I’m very sure.”

  He kisses my head again and snatches his earbuds and phone off the counter.

  Just before he turns toward the door, our eyes meet, and he seems to lose himself in my eyes. I wonder if he ever feels this thing between us as intensely as I do. When my heart felt so empty, he was there, not to fill it with his own love, but to teach me how to fill it with my own.

  Suddenly, he tosses his earbuds on the counter. “I’ll run later.” With that, he hoists me up onto his shoulder, and I let out a yelp as he carries me out to the pool. Luckily, the trees are in full bloom giving us enough privacy from the neighbors as he tosses my barely naked body into the water, following closely behind. The only watching eyes are from the brightly colored mural on the wall of the pool house.

  Thank you for reading Beautiful Monster.

  I never meant to write this book, but these characters stole my time and attention until I told their story. I loved every minute, even when I wanted to tear my hair out just trying to get it right.

  If you loved Alexander and Sunny, please consider leaving your opinion for future readers to see. Click here to review.

  This book was a team effort, and it wouldn’t be right if I didn’t acknowledge those who helped me in this process.

  My beta readers: Adrian, Suzanne, Kari, Erica, Jenn, Rachel.

  My editor: Nikki Holt Sexton

  My cover designer: Barb Hoeter of Coverinked Designs

  My graphic design artist: Amanda Shepard of Shepard Originals

  My PR company: Give Me Books Promotions

  And last but not least, the BEAUTIFUL members of Sara’s Sweets, who are too many to name. Every day, I log in to that group because you lift me up. Thank you.

  *muah*

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  Keep turning for a sneak peek of Delicate, the first book in the Wicked Hearts series…

  Sierra

  The buzzing sound is relentless. It’s like knives drilling into my head. How anyone could work here all day, I don’t know. It seems impossible.

  “So you think I should do the dolphin or the dragonfly?” Natalie says next to me, flipping through her phone. She has a Pinterest board pulled up with hundreds of girly tattoo images on the screen.

  “I don’t know,” I answer. “Which one has more meaning to you?”

  “Eh. I don’t really care about meaning. I just want something pretty back there, you know?” She winks as she points to her left shoulder blade.

  I laugh, although it’s a little forced. She’s the kind of girl with a perfect body, round hips, thin hourglass waist and big full breasts that make the most boring T-shirt look smoking hot. I’m a little jealous.

  “Natalie,” a man’s voice calls in a flat tone from the front desk. I recognize the big, burly man with the salt and pepper beard, dashing green eyes, and broad, hard shoulders.

  Natalie jumps up from her seat to greet him—with her boobs, of course. He doesn’t even notice. I have no doubt that Natalie is not above sleeping with him just because he’s a decade or more older.

  “Logan is gonna be right out to do your ink. Did you decide on anything?” he asks her.

  “Oh, you’re not doing it?” she asks, leaning over the glass. I roll my eyes at her display. Natalie and I have known each other for years, but we only hang out when our parents come up to Wickett Beach on holidays—or Wicked Beach, as it’s been unofficially renamed. I like Natalie, but she and I are two totally different people. She flaunts everything all the time and doesn’t even care that guys only want her for one thing. It just seems to take all of the fun out of it for me. When I do find the right guy, I want it to be special. Not just a quick romp for fun.

  She’s still trying to get the older guy to react to her tit display, but he does not seem impressed. I bet he sees girls like her all the time. Especially this week. Spring Break on Wicked is always so crazy, full to the brim with young, rich, trust fund babies in the prime of their first week of freedom. Bars are more relaxed with carding. Cops let the rules go because more people are spending money, and it’s known for being a playground for the rich kids. Not as sleazy as Cancun, but just as wild.

  While we wait, I glance around the shop. It’s decorated like a mechanics garage with big red toolboxes and short black stools on wheels, which is clever and somehow sexy. The front desk is a glass case full of photos and piercing jewelry. It’s actually a pretty tasteful place and not what I expected. I was expecting something seedier. I’ve only ever seen it from the outside. My parents would freak if they knew I was in here, but just like every spring break on Wicked, they disappear and leave me be for the entire week. I’m an adult now anyway so it’s not like I need a chaperone anymore. But if they knew where I was, I bet they would disagree. I smile to myself thinking about their reaction.

  “Natalie?” Another man appears from behind the wall that divides the front waiting area and the back where the tattoos are taking place. I glance up when I hear his voice, smooth and deep like chocolate, and my jaw nearly hits the floor. I can’t take my eyes off of him. He’s covered from his hands to his neck in tattoos, but they’re not all black like the older guy’s. They’re beautiful, vibrant, and full of color like a mural on his skin. In fact, I don’t think there is any black in them at all. Like a watercolor.

  But it’s not his tattoos that keep my attention. It’s his familiarity. Every summer I come to the island, and I find him. I see him, and in the least creepy way possible, I watch him. Once or twice, I would gawk at him through the window as I passed on the boardwalk. More than once, I watched him eating at the diner down the street. Why I’ve been so drawn to him, I don’t know.

  It’s not just his looks, and I mean, he is gorgeous, with his rich brown hair that always falls in perfect waves over his forehead. And maybe that’s what caught my eye the first time I saw him back when I was just fourteen. But the fascination became something more than that. I could see the trouble in his eyes. Like he held secrets I wanted to know and wisdom I could never understand. He has to be no more than twenty-five, but I have a feeling his twenty-five years have seen a lot more than my nineteen.

  “That’s me!” Natalie squeals, and as soon as her eyes land on him, she seems to forget the guy behind the counter.

  But he’s not looking at her. He’s looking at me.

  I’m still sitting on the folded black chairs, and I feel a settling weight of remorse land in my gut. He’s changed since last year. Something about him is not the same. It’
s not just the new tattoos or the way his shoulders don’t seem to fill out the T-shirt in the same way they did before. There’s a little less life behind his eyes.

  I stand and walk toward Natalie, trying to pull myself from the trance I fell into the second his crystal blues fell on me. “It’s her,” I say as I point to Natalie.

  “You don’t want a tattoo?” he says with a crooked smile. It’s contagious because I feel my own smile grow across my face. Without knowing why, I put my hand against my cheeks to hide the grin. The world’s worst flirter, right here.

  “N-no.” I stutter.

  He shows his pearly white teeth, and I swear my knees buckle.

  Natalie cackles as he smiles. “Her? Get a tattoo? Yeah right.” Then I realize that she’s teasing me, so I lose my smile and glare at her. I get that I look a little innocent, but I’m no saint.

  “Well, maybe one day,” he says, and he’s looking at me again. I’m under a spotlight in his stare.

  “I think I want a dolphin on my shoulder here,” Natalie says, pointing to her back. “To remind me of my time here. It’s special to me,” she says looking at Logan through heavy lids.

  He nods at her and takes a deep breath, an expression I can tell means he’s mentally preparing himself to deal with yet another bubbly young girl and her dolphin tattoo.

  I smile to myself as I follow them back to his station.

  Logan

  God, I fucking hate spring break. It’s nothing but drunk, rich kids and dolphin tattoos.

  But the business is good, so I guess I shouldn’t complain. Murph loves the girls this time of year, but I could live without them. They come to Wickett (I refuse to call it Wicked) once a year to get their kicks with the dirty locals and take off back to their lives of big houses and upstanding boyfriends. We are a proverbial bucket list for these girls.