Until

by Anna B. Doe

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  COMING SOON…

  CHAPTER ONE

  AKNOWLEDGMENTS & AUTHOR’S NOTES

  PLAYLIST

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  STALK ANNA ON SOCIAL MEDIA

  Text copyright © 2018 Anna B. Doe

  All Rights Reserved

  Copyediting & Proofreading by Wendi Lynn from Ready, Set, Edit

  Cover Design by Emily Witting Designs & Photography

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are productions of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  To my Mom.

  You taught me how to be strong.

  “Everyone suffers at least one bad betrayal in their lifetime. It’s what unites us. The trick is not to let it destroy your trust in others when that happens. Don’t let them take that from you.”

  ― Sherrilyn Kenyon, Invincible

  I was betrayed by those who I loved. Those who I believed in. It was the first and the last time I let myself love someone outside my family. A little girl grew up and opened her eyes. Love makes you weak. It makes you wish for the thing you can't have. It makes you vulnerable, and I swore I will never again go down that path.

  Until I met him—Jack Daniel Shelton.

  She left me. She ruined me. The day I found her gone I promised myself I’ll never let anyone have that kind of hold on me. Especially not a woman. Now she is back. No matter how much time has passed, no matter what I tell myself, her hold on me is still strong. There is also a secret she’s been keeping from me. A secret I can’t escape from, but a secret I can’t turn my back to either. A secret that could ruin everything I worked for.

  And then, there is her—Sienna Roberts—everything was just as it was supposed to be. That is until she walked in my life.

  Can two souls that lost faith in love find it in one another?

  “Oh, my god!” my friend, or better said new-in-the-process-of-becoming-friends friend, Anabel, exclaims loudly. “You just crushed me with some hot guy!”

  “What kind of hot are we talking about?” I ask her, looking at my reflection in the bathroom mirror and rearranging my long, dark-brown locks that became messy from all the dancing we were doing.

  While we wait our turn for a bathroom stall, I reapply dark-red lipstick on my full, heart-shaped lips. Lips that are the same color as the short, sexy dress I’m wearing. It clings to every curve of my body, not that I have a lot of those, but still. At almost five feet ten, I’m quite tall for a woman, and with my slender build, I’m more than the perfect candidate for a modeling career, which I take advantage of fully, thank you very much.

  “Huge with a stone-strong body, messy dark hair, and dark eyes type of hot guy.”

  Looking at our reflection, I try not to roll my eyes at her.

  Anabel Majer is complete opposite of me. She is small and curvy, almost fragile. Even in her heels, that are practically the same height as mine, she is a foot shorter than me.

  We both have long hair, but my ombré strands reach mid-back while her straight, raven hair falls way down, touching the curve of her ass. Her skin is like porcelain, creamy and perfect. But the most amazing thing about her looks are her eyes—big, oval, and the strangest, most beautiful shade of blue I’ve ever seen in my life. Like two sapphires—bright, special, and rare.

  Averting my eyes from her, once again I meet my own reflection.

  Amber, almond-shaped eyes look back at me. They are like the whiskey that my dad loves to drink—warm and melted. But also, a little bit glassy from all the Mai Tais, margaritas, and other shit we’ve drank tonight.

  “I’m really sorry about that,” I say sarcastically. Water flushes and girls exit the stalls, so we both take our turn.

  After a minute, I’m out and washing my hands thoroughly. I hate going to public restrooms, no matter how pretty and modern, how clean they look on the outside. The public bathroom will always be a public bathroom, carrying germs and god only knows what.

  “But seriously,” Anabel continues when she joins me, “I didn’t even get to say sorry before you pulled me away.”

  She is so obsessed with this guy!

  I guess he has to be super hot for her to react that way. She didn’t show much interest in anyone who came close to us tonight. Polite, but standoffish—that’s Anabel. But that’s simply my opinion. It’s not like I know her well. Actually, we’d only met today.

  I came to visit my sister after filming yet another commercial, but when I got to her house, the only person home was Anabel.

  At first, I was surprised, but then I remembered Lisa, my older sister, mentioning something about looking for help with her daughters. Both her and her husband, Cole, work full-time and they have lot of after work activities and meetings to attend so they decided to hire this live-in-nanny, Au pair or whatever it’s called.

  Anabel, who practically came from some small country on the other side of the world, will stay in the States with them for a year and help them look over my nieces, Ivy and Bella.

  So far, she looks like a normal person. She is what I need—normal, grounded, simple—and I hope this won’t be a one-time thing.

  It’s not like I don’t have other friends to party with because I do, but like I said, I need normal.

  A bunch of pretty girls who would turn their back on me if it was convenient for them doesn’t qualify as normal. Not the kind I want, anyway.

  “We can always go there so that you can say it,” I suggest, wiggling my brows.

  A giggle escapes me, and I wonder how many drinks have we had until now, but with all those heavy thoughts running through my mind I decide it can’t have been too many.

  “I don’t think he’s there. I think he was leaving the bar when we ‘met up’.” She draws quote marks in the air, and I can see that this whole situation is making her nervous.

  “Well, then you are just lucky that I feel like drinking one more cocktail before going back to the dance floor, right?” I tease.

  Before she manages to escape, I take her hand in mine and start toward the doors.

  No matter what she says, Anabel wants to meet this guy, so she’ll meet him. And I … well, I’ll be close to the bar and get another drink. Maybe that will make me erase all the thoughts out of my mind. Maybe it’ll make me forget everything and lose myself, at least for one night.

  .

  “Hey there, quiet boy.”

  I look down, way down, to some silly
, half-drunk girl trying her hardest to look confident and grown up. Her voice is low, just enough for me to hear, and slurred. I guess it’s supposed to sound sexy and confident, but it’s far from it.

  “There is nothing boyish about me,” I say in the same, low voice.

  I take her in—her tight, short dress and hooker-high heels make her look older, even cheap, and that comes from a guy who has seen his fair share of women in his life.

  I don’t know what guys see in this group of girls because that’s all they are. Girls. Probably still going to college. But that small thing hanging from my arm so she doesn’t fall on her ass doesn’t do anything for me.

  There is no spark or a hint of interest in any woman that I’ve been around in a long time. Maybe I’m getting old, as the guys like to point out, but at the age of thirty, I don’t feel old. I can’t think of myself as old because the day I do I can easily hang my cleats and retire from the NFL.

  She gives me something that should look like a sly smile and purrs: “You sure as hell don’t look small.” For emphasis her hand wanders under the table and down my stomach. I barely manage to catch it before it connects with my crotch.

  In that moment, I hear William, the last member of our little group and my best friend, mention drinks and the words can’t come out of my mouth fast enough. “I’ll go with you.” Getting up and moving away from the table is the only thing on my mind.

  As I move away, I hear Matt calling. I don’t want to look back, but does William hear him or not? When I turn around, I see William stumbling a little, his brown eyes looking with distress at the crowd swallowing this dark-haired chick.

  “What the fuck was that?” I ask him.

  “The hell if I know.”

  We get to the bar and order one more round for everyone. I even give a generous tip to the guy so that he takes our drinks back to our table. William doesn’t comment much, hell, for all I know, the guy even isn’t aware I’m with him.

  His eyes are relentlessly searching the crowd, especially in the direction of the hallway that leads to the bathrooms.

  Without anything better to do, I follow his gaze, looking for a girl who stole my best friend’s attention. In all the years I’ve known the guy, and we go way back all the way to junior high when my father and I moved to Atlantic City where William’s family comes from, he never looked at a girl that way.

  A half smile curls my lips. This is going to be fun.

  A sharp inhale by my side draws my attention back to the hallway.

  That’s the first time I see her—tall with the slim body wrapped in a little red dress, with toned legs that go on for miles even without heels, bloody red, heart-shaped lips, lips that could make a saint crazy with lust, and dark curls that are bouncing with every step she takes.

  “She’s hot dude,” I murmur, more for myself than for his sake.

  I can see it clearly. My hands in those gorgeous, silk-like curls, holding her close to me as I take her lips in a luscious kiss. I haven’t felt this kind of lust, this kind of hunger in so long that I welcome it with open arms. Blood runs hot through my veins and my body hardens in anticipation. The bulge in my pants growing.

  “You stay away from her, dude,” William practically growls.

  I want to laugh at the irritation I hear clearly in his voice, even in the club with music blasting all around us, but I hide it, only a small chuckle leaving my lips.

  “I’m not interested in your porcelain doll. She’s cute but too tiny for my taste. Her friend, though …”

  I did always have a thing for tall girls.

  Some guys are ass-men or tits-men. I, on the other hand, want them to be at least average height. At six feet five, I tower over most of the people, including my friends who are all professional football players. Most of the time I’m feeling like I’m going to crush the girl, but not this one. She looks like she could handle me.

  William’s chick, on the other hand, is small and curvy. Not his usual type but I guess that is what makes him so obsessive about her in the first place. She has this sexy girl-next-door thing going on.

  We stand there, looking at them for a while in silence. It’s like torture watching her body move with sensuality. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s a dancer.

  “Doesn’t she look familiar?”

  I look at her more closely, rubbing my cheeks. A few days’ stubble scratches my fingers. I should have probably shaved before coming, but when the guys called and said we were going to relax, clubbing was the last thing on my mind. With Harrison and Lewis doing the inviting I should have known better. Both of them are twenty-three years old, babies out of college who joined our team, The New York Knights, last year. For them, life is all about football, partying and women—not necessarily in that order.

  “Now that you said it …”

  I watch as they go to the other bar and order one of those colorful, girly drinks. They finish it quickly and return to the dance floor. She moves with grace and sensuality, effortlessly dancing to the music.

  William moves from the bar, but I stay there for a few more seconds, resisting the urge to go there and dance with her. I’m not an especially good dancer. I don’t even like to dance, but the possibility to hold her body next to mine is calling to me. Tempting me to come closer and pin her body to mine so that all those dickheads who are trying to get her attention get the message and move away.

  “Poor losers.”

  I know he heard me, although he doesn’t say anything.

  Tall girl lifts her eyes and looks in our direction. She takes us both in, first William then me, before a sly smile curls her lips and she gestures with one finger for us to come.

  “She’s the model!”

  “She can be whatever she wants,” I say and drink the rest of the beer. “I know that smile, so I’m going there. Might as well have some fun while being here.”

  “Well now, it’s good to know that from time to time something smart comes out of that fat mouth, Shelton.”

  “Fuck off, Price.”

  As we are finishing our cocktails, Enrique’s “Bailando” starts blasting from the speakers.

  Anabel shrieks in excitement and starts tugging me to the dance floor. I give in. After all, I like Enrique. He’s sexy with his chocolate eyes, messy hair, and scruffy cheeks.

  Closing my eyes, I let the music take me in.

  I love to dance. Whatever type of dance, I’m not picky.

  Letting the music haul me into a world where nothing matters, nothing but taking the next step and letting go.

  Of everything.

  When I open my eyes the last thing I’m expecting is to see a pair of light eyes staring at me. A slow shudder spreads through my body.

  The guy’s big. Bigger than me in high heels and that is hard to find. He stands out in the crowd like the light that shines through the darkness. His body is muscular, broad shoulders filling nicely his dark dress shirt. His hair is short and dark, a few days’ old stubble is hiding his cheekbones and square jaw making perfect contrast with his light eyes. I could even bet that when those full lips curl into a smile, dimples appear.

  Then I see his friend. Maybe a couple of inches shorter but equally well-built, with dark hair and dark eyes piercing into Anabel’s back.

  I smile and crook my finger at them. Silently inviting them to join us.

  “What are you doing?” Anabel asks warily.

  “Giving you what you wanted.”

  And I hope I’m not lying. She was blabbing about this guy she runs into even after we left the bathrooms. She gave me a few traits—good looking, tall, dark hair, and eyes—a description that matches a lot of guys in this place, but the guy staring at her definitely looks like a winner to me.

  Big hands circle around me to rest on my stomach, pulling me into a big, warm, all-male body. I tilt my head and look up. Only a few inches separate me from those light, deep-set, sea-green eyes. A small smile plays on his lips, and I think I see a hint of a dimple
on his right cheek.

  “Hey, gorgeous,” he murmurs in my ear.

  His voice is husky and deep, the perfect bedroom voice. The one that sends tingles all over a woman’s body and makes panties grow damp in mere seconds.

  “That’s the best line you’ve got?” I ask him, laughing softly.

  My laughter soon dies when I feel his hand pulling me closer to him, closing the small distance that was left between our bodies. So close that I can feel his hard body behind me, sliding to the beat of the music, but also making me feel his hard erection pressing into my butt.

  “I’ve got a lot of lines, babe,” he murmurs into my ear. His stubble brushing against my exposed skin as his lips trace down my neck. “But I don’t want to play tonight, and I have a feeling you don’t want it, either.”

  Leaning into him, I brush my body against his. He groans as my butt presses at his crotch. My own moan wants to escape, but I bite my lower lip to prevent it from coming out.

  Turning around in his arms, I cup the nape of his neck with one hand while the other is pressed on his chest.

  “You are right,” I tell him softly. “I don’t feel like playing games.”

  I move a little to see his reaction.

  We stare at each other for a few seconds, although it seems like much longer, and then his lips close over mine. The first kiss is tentative, short and sweet, but it quickly deepens. His lips are devouring mine.

  Needy.

  Hungry.

  His tongue seeks entrance into my mouth, which I gladly give into, meeting him halfway. Caressing him in a way that seems more primal than even sex has ever felt before.

  He overwhelms all my senses. He is all I can think about, all I can feel and smell. We are closed in our own world, away from reality.

  Slowly, so painfully slowly, we break our kiss.

  Both of us panting.

  “You want to go somewhere else?” he asks. His voice rough and filled with passion.

  I look over my shoulder.