Take My Heart: A Steamy Romantic Suspense Novel

by J. J. Sorel

  The beautiful girl that was Ava, who’d come into my life and was waiting for me.

  She didn’t run away.

  I ran away.

  I had given her space so that she could run away without feeling obligated to do the right thing by me, an emotional invalid.

  I took out my cell and turned it on. There was a bank of messages, most of which could wait, but from Ava, there was only one.

  Scrolling down, I read, “I love you, Bronson, unconditionally. I’m not ashamed of who you are. If anything, I’m proud of what you’ve become.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  AVA

  My cell pinged. It was from Bronson. A loud “at last” left my lips. The text read, “I’ll be home as soon as I can hail a cab. I love you with all my heart and soul.”

  It was two in the morning.

  He’d been gone for five hours.

  So many times, I had begun to leave. But as I stood at the door, I just couldn’t. It was as though some hidden force held me there.

  I’d pulled one of his worn shirts out of the laundry and slipped it on. As I lounged about, his addictive scent flooded my senses, that same dizzying blend of cologne and sweat that I drew in deeply when lying in his arms with my nose buried in his warm neck.

  I’d been a sagging mess ever since he’d walked out. I understood Bronson’s need to be alone. He was a proud man. The dramatic details of his entrance into the world were so tragic that as much as I tried, I couldn’t stop tears of pity.

  I wanted to be strong for him. But my heart had shriveled when I witnessed that lost, broken expression in his eyes after he’d set that letter down.

  Just as I poured hot water into my umpteenth cup of herbal tea, guaranteed to keep me peeing all night, the door opened.

  Hearing voices, I put the kettle down.

  Bronson was not alone.

  When I entered the living room, a rank odor hit my nostrils with such force I had to take a step back.

  Bronson had brought home a hobo.

  I couldn’t tell who was more surprised, the stranger or me.

  Standing there with my mouth slightly agape, I nodded a quick welcome. Realizing I was naked underneath Bronson’s shirt, I excused myself and headed for the bedroom.

  Bronson followed me.

  He gazed at me, and before I had a chance to speak, he took me into his arms and held me tightly. It wasn’t in his normal passionate-bordering-on-groping way, but as if we hadn’t seen each other for months and needed to be reacquainted.

  “I’m sorry,” he said with an uneasy expression.

  He’d been drinking heavily, for he had that glazed look in his eyes. But with that stubble on his face, his boyish chocolatey eyes, and sensual lips moistened for a kiss, I wanted so much to push him against the wall and have hard sex without any rules.

  I unraveled from his clasp and slipped on a pair of jeans.

  “Who’s that?” I asked.

  “Sam. Come on. I’ll introduce you.” He grabbed me by the hand. I’d never seen him like that. He was almost like a teenager bringing home a new pal.

  “Bronson, he needs a shower,” I whispered.

  He held a finger up. “Okay, then. Back in a minute.”

  I heard mumbling, and then Bronson returned to grab a towel from his closet.

  It was extraordinary what a few drinks could do for one’s mood, given that Bronson was the most relaxed I’d ever seen him.

  While we sat on the bed, he told me all about Sam. And that he’d offered him the couch until he could find him a place to live.

  A spark flitted over his eyes. “What about your place?”

  “Where am I to live?” I asked.

  “Why, here, of course. With me.” He smiled sweetly. It was as if he’d forgotten about what had happened that day.

  I hadn’t. That heart in the jar hung around like some festering wound.

  “Let’s talk about it tomorrow,” I said, looking over his shoulder at Sam, who was rubbing his washed hair with a towel.

  “Hey, I hope you don’t mind me intruding like this, I…”

  “It’s all good, Sam. Ava understands.”

  Despite a ton of questions banking up, I smiled sweetly and left them on hold for when Bronson was sober.

  It was late, and when Bronson fell onto the bed after what had been a big day, he fell into a deep sleep with his legs and arms wrapped around me.

  The following morning, I woke to find the bed empty. After dressing, I discovered Bronson in the kitchen waving a spatula over a pan of fried eggs and bacon.

  I rubbed my eyes and greeted Bronson’s new pal, Sam, who was sitting at the table with coffee in hand and a big smile.

  “Hey,” said Bronson looking up at me with a sultry smile.

  “You’ve been up a while?” I asked.

  “Uh-huh. Are you hungry?”

  I nodded. “Sure.” I studied Bronson. “For someone who had a bit to drink, you seem pretty bright.”

  “I don’t do hangovers,” he responded. “Come and sit here.” He pointed to the table, where he’d placed a plate with fried eggs, bacon, and tomato. “I’ll pour you a coffee.”

  Where was the Bronson I knew? I asked myself. This new version was either in denial or had found God. As he moved about playing mother, host, and waiter, I decided I preferred the brooding, silent version.

  I looked over at Sam, who seemed to have a permanent smile etched on his otherwise scraggy features.

  “I hope you don’t mind me invading your space,” he said.

  “No, of course not,” I replied, flickering a questioning stare at Bronson since I did wonder what the plan was.

  The food was exceptional. Bronson was great around the kitchen, it seemed, which was handy, considering my lack in that area.

  Wiping my mouth, I asked Bronson, “So, what are you up to today?”

  “I’m going to buy Sam some clothes, and then after that, I’m off to the building site to see if Harry can give him a job. And then we’ll look into finding him somewhere to stay until your place becomes available.”

  I nodded slowly. “Bronson, can I have a word?”

  He followed me into the bedroom.

  “What are you doing?”

  “About what?” he asked, taking me by the hand and sitting next to me on the bed, where he proceeded to play with a strand of my hair.

  He stroked my cheek, and I fell into his arms. “I miss the old you, Bronson.”

  “I’m still here,” he said, lowering his chin to stare into my eyes.

  His eyes darkened. “I don’t miss the old me. Do you know how hard it is carrying around a shitload of bitterness? How it eats away at one’s gut?”

  “It’s just that we haven’t even held each other today. And you’re acting differently.”

  “I’m holding you now.” He pulled away and studied me. “Is this because of Sam? I just want to help the poor guy. He’s unable to fend for himself.” His unshaven face tensed, and again, a shadow fell over his handsome features.

  A thought suddenly occurred to me. “You see yourself in Sam.”

  His eyes held mine. “Maybe. Not that I’ve thought about it that way, but had I not been adopted by a good family, that could have been me.”

  “But it’s not you, Bronson. You undervalue yourself. You have so much talent, drive, and intrinsic understanding of human nature, beyond your years. You’re an old soul,” I said.

  “Does that make me a dirty old man?” His eyes flickered with dark amusement.

  Instead of frustration at his banter, I smiled and fell into his arms again.

  Our mouths met in a tender kiss that quickly heated when his tongue entered deeply, making me shudder with pleasure.

  That was the erotic version of Bronson I craved, as his hands indulged on the swell of my breasts.

  He stood up and lowered his jeans.

  I sighed as I saw how his considerable bulge stretched out the cotton fabric of his white briefs that made
his skin appear deliciously tanned.

  He lowered them as a lusty moan left my lips. He parted my legs roughly, for the hunger in his gaze showed he couldn’t wait.

  As he thrust hard into me, he looked deeply into my eyes.

  My hands pressed his firm ass toward me as I arched my back to meet his thrusts all the way. It was rougher than usual but devastatingly arousing. With each entry, I gave way to explosions of delicious heat.

  His eyelids became heavy, and his breath gusted over my neck.

  “I need you to come for me, Ava.” His voice was tight and shaky.

  The friction, the intensity of his gaze, those full, sensual lips open and gasping with arousal only added to the rippling heat tearing through me, until the build-up was so unbearable that I let go. My toes squeezed tight, and I moaned into his neck as I drew in his testosterone-infused scent.

  He shuddered through a release. His jaw tightened, and his head dropped back.

  After a few moments, we came back to life.

  Aware we were not alone, I said, “I hope we weren’t too noisy.”

  “I’ll find somewhere for Sam today. That will give you time to give me an answer.” He pushed back a black curl that had fallen over his forehead.

  I studied him for a moment. “Do you really want to do this?” My eyes landed on the heart tattoo with my name on his chest.

  That was a “forever” act if I’d ever seen one.

  Noticing my focus, Bronson cocked his head. “What do you think?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  BRONSON

  Harry found some menial tasks for Sam in return for a basic wage, giving him enough to survive. As it turned out, Harry had a bungalow at the back of his house that he offered Sam at a low rent. That was why I liked Harry. He had a heart of gold when it came to those who’d fallen on hard times.

  It was a big day at the site. I had a kitchen to oversee, which involved carting around heavy bits of wood. At least that was one thing about being a builder: I didn’t need a gym in order to get fit.

  I had to meet James to discuss the project and to talk about Justin, who, having not covered his steps well, left little doubt that he’d forged the new will. Although my fucking brother was the last thing I wanted to visit in my already heavily occupied mind, a wrong had to be addressed. It also meant that I’d be able to buy a large house for Ava and give her everything her heart desired because I wanted nothing more than for her to live like a princess.

  As the jar with the heart entered my thoughts for the millionth time, my cell buzzed. I saw Ava’s pretty face and picked up. “Hey, sexy.”

  “I’m sorry to call while you’re working,” she said, sounding formal, despite me having explored every delectable inch of her naked body only hours earlier.

  “Anytime, Ava. I love hearing your voice. Especially when it’s in my ear.”

  “I love your voice, too,” she said with a breathy sigh. “My mother insists on meeting you. I told her that I was going to move in with you.”

  My chest expanded. “Oh, angel, that’s a yes then?”

  “Yes. It was always going to be that, Bronson. I can’t imagine being without you.”

  “I need you too, Ava.” I paused. “So, I’m going to meet your parents. Shit. That’s scary.”

  “No, it’s not. I mean, my mom’s a bit scary, given her annoying tendency to ask lots of questions. You’ll have to find a way to deal with that. I still struggle with it, I have to admit.”

  My smile faded as quickly as it had arrived. “What am I to say about the one-year stint in prison?”

  “I’ve told them.”

  “Really?” I asked.

  “Mom’s a bit tense about it. But Dad’s cool. He’s great. You’ll like him. He’s a retired carpenter.”

  “Really? He’s like me, then,” I said, releasing some tension.

  “Well, not alike in personality. But he did work with his hands and spent most of his life in the shed. Probably to get away from my mom.” She giggled.

  “She sounds formidable.”

  “No more than any other ambitious mother.”

  “Shit. An ambitious mother, in my book, means a go-getter that judges a person by where he’s been in order to determine his worth.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be there to shield you from her.”

  I couldn’t tell if Ava was kidding.

  “When’s the inquisition?” I asked, not hiding the gloomy note in my voice.

  She laughed. “Oh, Bronson, you make it sound like a trial.”

  “Well it is, isn’t it?”

  “It’s tomorrow night. I’ll take the night off from Aggie’s.”

  Cold water that had just been poured over my head at the thought of meeting Ava’s mom had turned into a deluge at the mention of Aggie. “Are you there now?”

  “I’m on my way,” she said.

  “Are you going to talk to her about it?”

  “The heart?”

  I sighed loudly. My day had just gotten bleaker. “Yep. Fuck, Ava. It’s back.”

  “What is?”

  “This fucking nagging question of whether we should be calling the cops,” I said.

  “Yeah. Me too. I’m plagued with the same thoughts,” she said.

  “You realize we’ve become accessories if and when that thing’s found.”

  “Not you Bronson, more like me. I’m the one that goes there.”

  “Ava, there are such things as CCTV sprinkled everywhere. I’m sure the cops would see us entering that building at some point. Considering the place is deserted, it won’t be hard to question those who come and go.”

  “But she’s got staff, too.”

  “Have you seen any of her staff?” I asked.

  “No… But I’ve got a plan to go in early tomorrow because I need to get to the bottom of things. There’s so much that just doesn’t add up. And I need to know if she’s a ghost.”

  “What? But you said you don’t believe in the supernatural. And I as sure as hell don’t.” The sinews in my forearms throbbed as I clasped the phone tightly.

  “I know. But here I am standing in the lobby. It’s empty. Why would a beautiful building like this be empty?”

  “Ava, have you thought that Aggie may own that building and want it all to herself?”

  “Hm… I haven’t. But that’s plausible, I suppose. She is seriously private and strange about people.”

  “There are no fucking ghosts, Ava,” I said emphatically. I thought I needed convincing because I was creeped out by that place just as much as Ava was. But I needed to man up by removing doubt.

  “Okay. Best go. I’ll see you tonight?”

  “Sam’s staying at Harry’s, so we can play. I need to get a bit dirty.” My pants tightened at that fantasy. The one remedy for my troubled mind was hardcore sex with my curvaceous, ripe, and delicious girlfriend.

  “That sounds promising. I’ll have to remember to wear my nice underwear.”

  Her giggle made my cock lengthen. “Not too nice. I plan to rip them off and make a meal of you.”

  “Mm… that sounds yummy,” she purred.

  “Bye, angel.”

  I climbed into my car. And with Dire Straits blaring away, instead of grumbling at the bumper-to-bumper traffic, I sang.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  AVA

  Resigned to the fact that Charlie was no longer employed there, I rode the elevator alone. After I entered, expecting Aggie to be upstairs. Standing at the bottom of the stairs, I heard her calling out from the balcony.

  The pretty terrace with the mosaic floor, housing terra cotta pots with roses creeping up on trellises, belied the existence of ghosts. If anything, the place was bursting with life.

  “There you are,” she said with a sunny smile.

  “I’m surprised to find you up and about,” I said.

  She leaned over and grabbed a cigarette. “I’ve had a few bad days. But I’m better today. Taken a few pills that the doctor
prescribed.”

  “Oh… a doctor’s been here, then?” I asked.

  “Yes. Yes. He came snooping around yesterday. Louisa called him. I’ll be alive for a few more martinis.” A throaty chuckle mingled with the smoke that exited her lips.

  “Does he know you smoke?” I asked.

  “Now, don’t go all censorious on me, and make me that martini,” she said in her typical gruff manner.

  When I returned, I placed the glass by her side.

  Noticing her hand tremble more than usual when she picked it up, I said, “Aggie, I worry about you.”

  She waved her hand. “Yes. Yes. Now stop making a fuss and tell me about your love life.”

  I wondered if she remembered Bronson, or whether she still believed that she’d dreamt up Monty.

  “You’ve met him,” I said.

  Her eyes met mine. There was something lost in them. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. “I don’t recall.”

  “He came upstairs. He’s the one that gave me the cameo.”

  “Monty stole that cameo. I now know why. I forgive him,” she said.

  I asked myself if Aggie was being evasive, or just off with the fairies.

  Extracting some courage after taking a few sips from the large martini I’d made myself on purpose for the difficult discussion that lay ahead, I said, “Aggie, there’s something I need to ask you?”

  “I don’t like questions, Ava. That was the agreement.”

  Slumping back on my chair, I took a deep breath. Her pale face and tremulous state stopped me from pressing further.

  “You haven’t answered my question,” she said. “How is your love life?”

  “It’s great.”

  “You’re no longer with that awful lawyer, I hope. You’re with the tall, dark, and handsome one, then?”

  “Yes. I’m with Bronson.” I couldn’t recall if I’d described Bronson like that.

  “Good. Very good.” She fell back on her chair as if allowing distant memories to invade her thoughts, for I lost her after that.