by Kyle Autumn
Her choice of words isn’t lost on me. So I cock an eyebrow at her and say, “Do you want to take it?”
Her answer isn’t with words at all. It’s in the way she straddles me on our bed, slides her hands up the smooth muscle of my abs, and pushes my shirt over my head. It’s in the way she leans down to kiss me, her teeth nipping at my bottom lip. And it’s in the way her hands deftly unbuckle my belt and slide my pants down enough that my hard cock bobs out.
“Then take it, baby,” I growl at her. “Show me what you want.”
She does. Fucking hell, she does. She rides me harder than before, taking every last drop of what she wants from my body. She proves to me that she’s ready for me to let loose and be the man I want to be deep down with her. The one who has fury radiating through him at how she was treated in the past. The one who has quenched his murderous rage but won’t hesitate to use it again if someone else hurts her.
The one who fucking loves her.
I’m not sure how it happened to a man like me, but it did. She cracked the ice, melted the steel, and showed me that anything is possible when two people are meant to be in each other’s lives. No matter the past. No matter the choices they’ve made before. No matter if they feel incapable of love.
It can happen.
I’m still that rough-around-the-edges brute with a beast contained just below the surface. But I’ve kept the beast at bay for her. I have permission to let him loose now, and you bet your ass I will. She’s smoothed some of my edges out though. And I’ve helped her become the woman she wants to be too.
By worshipping her body, scars and all, and showing her anything’s possible when we’re together.
We overcame her ultimate nightmare together.
We come together between the sheets night after night.
And we learn from each other all the fucking time.
It’s magic. That’s all I can say. It just works, and I’m so fucking thankful for her.
When we’re both sweaty and sated, she collapses against my chest and breathes out a sigh. “I’ve missed that part of us,” she says, curling her fingers around in patterns on my smooth skin.
I brush my fingertips over the scars on her back—the new ones where she had that rat bastard’s carved-out mine grafted over. “I have too,” I tell her between pants. Then I kiss her head and run my fingers through her hair. It’s evenly cut now, and I think she likes it this way.
With her chin on my chest, she peeks up at me. “Well, there’s one more thing we have to do before we can fully move on from all of this.”
I dip my chin to hold her gaze. And then words I never thought I’d say tumble out of my mouth. “Marry me.”
We both seem shocked by this, but her level wins out over mine.
“Seriously?” she asks, her eyes wide.
“That’s not what you were going to say?”
Blinking rapidly, she releases a slow smile. “No, but that makes two things.”
I can’t hide my own stupid-ass grin now. “Does that mean you’ll marry me?”
Rolling her eyes, she sits up over top of me, pressing her fingertips against the grooves my my abs. “How about you ask me?”
“How about you take what you want?” I throw back at her, gripping her hips and rubbing my thumb over her belly button.
“Ask me,” she demands as she leans down, coming in close to my face.
Just an inch away from her lips, I do just that. “Marry me, Hanna Lee?”
She steals a kiss from my mouth, lingering there long enough to make my heart want to pound of out of my chest. I never thought I’d ask anyone that after the life I’ve been leading, and now, the woman I trusted that question with is making me wait.
Fucking figures.
But I get a good chuckle out of it when she finally puts me out of my misery and nods. “Yeah, Zane,” she whispers right against my lips. “I’ll marry you.”
Holy fuck.
This woman.
I grip the back of her head and crush her mouth to mine. I’ll never get close enough to her, and that’s unimaginable, but it’s true. This woman picked my rage-filled ass at that bar that night, and it was the worst choice she could have made in my eyes. But it ended up being the best fucking thing either of us has ever done. I could live naked and wrapped up in her in this bed forever.
But she breaks my thoughts by pressing back up to a sitting position. “And then there’s one more thing we have to do.”
“Yes?” I ask, not giving a single fuck about what that is as long as she’ll be my wife.
“The money, Zane. You never asked me about the two million dollars.”
Oh. Well.
Maybe I do give a single fuck. Just one.
But only because she’s already agreed to marry me. Her dead ex-husband’s money means shit to me. If it means something to her though…
“What about it?” I ask.
Her gaze turns soft. “That’s what convinced me to trust you in the end. For me to realize you were truly on my side.”
My eyes flare wide as anger builds in my chest. “Oh, so it wasn’t the fact that I admitted everything to you?”
“No,” she simply says. “You could have told me that before he said something. But the money—you didn’t even bring it up, yet you had to know about it.”
I lick my dry lips, wondering where the fuck this is going. “Yeah. I knew.”
“Well…” She traces patterns on my chest, her gaze following her fingers. “I still have it.”
I go still. “Seriously?”
Nodding, she forms a proud smile on her mouth. “I never took it with me. I just hid it in the house. I didn’t think he’d consider that, and the only place he never went was the room I was kept in. I keep the key in that bag I had with me that day we met. And since the house is mine as his next-of-kin…” She shrugs. “I guess we also have two million dollars.”
My eyes might bug out of my head. I know she hasn’t wanted to go back there because of her memories of that monster. I know I’m the one who’ll deal with the sale of the house when she’s ready. And now, I’ll be the one to retrieve that money if she wants me to.
Or we can light everything on fucking fire and dance as it burns to the ground.
I don’t give two shits. I pull her down into my arms and hold her as tight as I fucking can.
Either way, no matter what we do with that shit, I have the woman I never knew I needed in my bed, and she’s agreed to be mine. We’ve both somehow survived the unspeakable, rising from the ashes stronger than ever.
I may have been tasked to hunt her down. But I fell in love with the hunted. And she fell in love with me.
That’s all I’ll ever need again.
Just her.
Scars and all.
My Hanna Lee.
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Favors, Strings, & Lies
Sneak Peek of Favors, Strings, & Lies
Men of Nat Ex #1
Chapter 1
Matt
You’d think that, after seven years on the job, I’d be tired of the same thing all the time. I’m not though. The regulars on my route make it interesting every day.
Take Mrs. Patterson for example. Her graying red hair is in a bun on the top of her head, and her leggings have teddy bears all over them. Every day, it’s a different pair, but that makes sense. She sells them, so she wears them as free advertising for her business. She just started this year, but she’s already profitable and building a team.
She waves at me as she comes to the door.
“Just one package for you today, Mrs. Patterson,” I say when she opens the door.
“Thanks, Matt,” she says, taking the heavy package from my hands while I hold the door open.
I’d ask if she needs help, but I learned my lesson a long time ago. This woman is strong and capable, so I break protocol and hand it over without offering assistance.
“
Not a problem. Hey.” I let the screen door close as she sets the heavy box on the floor. “Has your son heard back from Yale yet?”
“He did yesterday!” she exclaims, coming back to the door. “He got in, and he’s already deciding which classes he wants to take.”
I smile at her. “Oh, that’s wonderful. Congratulations.”
“Thanks so much.” She brushes some loose hair from her face, her mouth curved in a beaming grin. “We’re all so excited.”
“You should be. That’s great news.” Then I back away and wave. “Have a great day.”
“You too!” she says before shutting her front door.
With that, I head back to my truck for the next delivery.
To keep things fresh, I find ways to make delivering packages new all the time. New music and podcasts to listen to. New ways to challenge myself while I’m out on my route. New people to meet as they move from house to house and the neighborhoods change. And I strive to remember the details of my regulars’ lives.
I also live for the days when Cadence Griffith’s name shows up on my manifest in the morning. She’s my next delivery, and no matter how many times I deliver to her house, it never goes the way I hope it will. That could be because I hope that our encounters will end with her on her back and me buried deep inside her even though we’ve never spoken to each other.
Over the year I’ve had her house on my route, she’s almost always shut the door immediately after she’s taken the package from me. Which is on the lucky days she’s home to accept the delivery. Sometimes, I ring the doorbell and don’t even get a peek at her beautiful face. Or her sexy-as-hell body.
It doesn’t seem to matter though. My heart speeds up every single time I deliver to her. Something draws me to her. Probably the mystery surrounding her, that I know so little about her when I’ve gotten to know so many others on my route. And, well, she’s fucking drop-dead sexy and seems to have no idea. There’s that too.
As I pull up to her house a minute later, I wonder if today will be any different. I grab the package out of the back of my truck and head up her driveway. After I ring the doorbell, I take a few extra seconds to set the box down by her door before walking back to my truck. Right when I turn around to head down her driveway, the doorknob creaks.
I freeze for a brief moment. No one else has ever answered her door, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have a husband or a boyfriend—or even a wife or a girlfriend—living with her. God, wouldn’t that be a funny twist? Spending all of this time dying to get this woman into bed and she doesn’t even like men?
I don’t even need to look to see if it’s her though. The usual buzz from being in her presence thrums through my veins, so I know she’s standing behind me.
Because torturing myself has become my favorite pastime, I look anyway. And I get a glimpse of perfection. Long, brown hair tied back in a low ponytail. A workout tank top hanging on her thin frame. Tight yoga pants hugging her curves. Earbuds in her ears, plugged into the cell phone in her hand. When she flashes her green gaze at me, I wonder how she heard the doorbell ring while she’s clearly listening to something, but I let that thought go. Instead, I’m grateful for these ten seconds. It’s more than I usually get. And it’ll be enough fill my mental fantasy tank until the next time I see her.
I give her my best thank-you, have-a-great-day, I’m-sorry-that-I’ve-imagined-fucking-you-eight-hundred-different-ways smile and a small wave as I walk backwards to my truck. I figure I’ll get the usual half grin and a finger wave back, but I get the shock of a lifetime when she picks the package up and speaks to me for the first time.
“Thanks. I was hoping this would be here this early,” she says.
I nearly stumble over my own two feet at the sound of her voice. It’s everything I hoped it’d be and so much more. Deep but sexy. And I wonder how high I can get it to go when she’s screaming my name.
God, what this woman does to me.
It takes a few seconds, but I come back to life and find my own voice.
“Oh, I can deliver earlier from now on if you need me to,” I offer. And in all kinds of ways, ma’am.
“You can do that?” she asks, hugging the box to her chest, which lifts her gorgeous, mouth-watering breasts up so her cleavage is on full display.
“I’m not supposed to,” I answer, “but I wouldn’t mind.” Then I shrug.
She wrinkles her forehead and waves a dismissive hand. “No big deal. I was just being impatient.” Her small smile curves her lips and carves itself deeper into my chest.
What the hell? Yeah, sure, my heart speeds up around her, but it doesn’t normally sputter around like this. Or make space for shitty things like anything more than sex. Because fuck no.
Been there, done that, won’t do it again. Period. End of story.
I smile back though, hoping she likes seeing mine as much as I like seeing hers. Because I still wouldn’t mind sleeping with her. Not one bit.
“Either way,” I say. “Let me know.” Stuffing my hands into my pockets, I head back to my truck, trying to play it cool. Trying not to let my heart spout off some bullshit to my brain. Nope.
When I pull away from her house, she’s still standing on the porch, watching me as I go. I grin and wave, hoping I left a good impression during our first real encounter. And, if I’m not mistaken, there’s a light blush on her cheeks. She hides her mouth with the box, but I can see the crinkles her smile creates near her eyes. The whole image makes my heart stutter and stop before it resumes a racing speed, and I nearly miss a turn on my way out of her neighborhood.
The fuck? I’m not sure when I turned back into that guy, but I have no plans to torture myself with that kind of shit again. With love and the promise of forever. Hell no. It’s just about sex. She’s hot as hell. That’s all there is to it.
But, now that I’ve heard her voice and seen that smile, I know I’m so fucked.
Cadence
Once he’s driven away, I release the death grip I have on this box along with the breath I was holding. That man is willing to break the rules of his job to deliver something trivial in the scheme of things all because I wanted it sooner? I can’t imagine why that’d be, but I do feel what it does to my heart. Because how long has it been since a man has gone out of his way to do something nice for me? A heck of a long time. That’s for sure.
In fact, I can’t remember the last time my ex-husband did anything like that. It’s not the only reason we got divorced, but it certainly contributed to why I finally ended things. And he’s the prime example of the kind of guy I’ll never be with again. Not that I try to date anyway. Between work and my training schedule, I don’t even have time. It’s not high up on my list of things to do when I’m too busy selling houses, making money, and hitting the gym or the trails.
Nope. Ever since my divorce, I’ve made it a point to do the things I want to do. And dating just isn’t one of them.
Becoming a successful realtor? Check.
Completing a marathon? Soon-to-be check.
But this deliveryman has me reconsidering and thinking about making some time. He’s cute. That gleaming smile. His ice-blue gaze under the rim of his work hat. Those freaking dimples. His strong, muscular arms nearly bursting out of his uniform. Yeah, I noticed. A damn year ago, I noticed. Obviously. I’m freaking blushing like a schoolgirl.
I let out a long, sad sigh as I walk back inside the house. Because no. Just no. I can’t.
Can I? Maybe just one night? Like the rest of them?
No. There’s no way only one night with that guy will suffice. He’ll be the best sex I’ve ever had and I won’t want to give him up. Then I’ll start to slack off with my business and miss running sessions for my training. Soon after that, I’ll drop the running altogether and settle into a good-enough pattern at work.
Been there, done that, got divorced over it. Won’t do it again.
When I reach the kitchen, my cell phone rings through the earbuds in my ears. That r
eminds me that I was headed out for my run. See? How soon I’ve already forgotten real life to daydream about the deliveryman and how good it will feel when he pushes me up against this wall and—
“Hello?” I answer between gritted teeth, tossing my package on my kitchen table.
“Cade? You okay?” my sister asks.
I shake myself out of my disappointment. My sister is nothing to be disappointed over.
“Oh, hey, Gina.” I stick my phone between my head and my shoulder and fill my water bottle. “What’s up?”
“Did you catch this week’s episode of This Is Us? Oh my god. How many times did you cry?”
I sigh into the phone. “Of course not. You know I don’t have time to watch TV.”
“Well, then what I really want is to see if my maid of honor is ready for my bachelorette party this weekend. That’s all.”
I can picture her checking her nails as she speaks into the phone. I can only hope I’m not that predictable. But I realize I’m being short with her, so I shake myself out of that too.
“Of course,” I tell her. “We’re meeting at your house at nine and then heading to the bar after that.”
“Which bar?” she asks.
“Uh, it’s your bachelorette party, so I’m not telling you.” I cap my water. “It’s a surprise.” Which is Cade-speak for Shit, I haven’t planned this yet.
She barks out a humorless laugh. “Don’t pretend I don’t know what that means.”
“No one’s pretending anything,” I say, leaning down to tighten my shoelaces. “We’re going to have a good time, so don’t worry. It’s still four days away. Chill.”
She sighs down the line. “Cade, if you don’t want to do this, I’ll understand. I asked you because I love you, but I won’t be hurt if this is—”