by Fiona Archer
Now that’s done, it’s time to get her in my bed. I will follow through with fucking her. I’ve earned that right. But after her declaration, I’m not sure I’ll take it as far as I’ve fantasized. She deserves a man who isn’t broken. One that hasn’t seen too much and can love her in every way. All I can do is fuck her.
I carry her to my bed and lay her down. For a second all I can do is stare. She’s so fucking incredible, I’m thankful she’s chosen me.
Her eyes never leave mine as I crawl up the bed and stop to use my tongue on her clit. She responds beautifully. Her back arches and her hands once again thread through my hair as she hangs on for dear life.
As much as I want to remain where I am, the need to be inside her supersedes anything else.
When I reach her mouth, the kiss I give her is demanding as I spread her legs and ease between them. The head of my cock aches to breach her walls as I nudge her opening. I dip my head and latch on to her nipple before pushing forward. She’s so fucking wet as I spread her further, I slide right in.
It takes a Herculean effort not to lose myself and focus on her first. I watch for cues in her expression to make sure that pleasure is winning over pain. When at last her inner walls clamp down on my dick, I let go and come harder than I have at any point in my life.
As sweat cools, while I’m still balls deep inside her, I make a declaration that surprises even me.
“I’ll pay your father’s debt and make sure you’re safe even if you want to walk away now.”
Her eyes are wide as she looks at me. “I don’t.”
“Then know this. You’re mine, Tessa.”
Copyright 2020 Terri E. Laine
About Terri E. Laine
Terri E. Laine is a USA Today Bestselling author with twenty plus titles to her name. She left a career as a CPA to pursue a dream in writing. She lives in Maryland with her husband, three kids, two cats and a dog and somehow still manages to be an avid reader.
You can find more about her books at: www.terrielaine.com.
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* * * *
OTHER BOOKS BY TERRI E. LAINE
King Maker Trilogy
Money Man ~ Queen of Men ~ King Maker
Kingdom Come Duet
Kingdom Come ~ Kingdom Fall
All the King’s Sons Standalone Spinoffs
Arrogant Savior ~ King Me
Chasing Butterflies standalone series
Chasing Butterflies ~ Catching Fireflies ~ Changing Hearts ~ Craving Dragonflies ~
Songs for Cricket
Him standalone series
Because of Him ~ Captivated by Him
Blinded by You Duet
Honey ~ Sugar
Married in Vegas standalone series
Married in Vegas: In His Arms ~ Absolutely Mine
Other Standalones
Ride or Die ~ Thirty-Five and Single ~ Unforgettable
OTHER BOOKS CO-AUTHORED BY TERRI E. LAINE
Cruel and Beautiful ~ A Mess of A Man ~ One Wrong Choice ~ A Beautiful Sin ~ Sidelined ~ Fastball ~ Hooked ~ Worth Every Risk
Free to Wish
by
Tracey Jerald
Chapter One
Jenna
“I don’t want to make any more wishes,” I say fiercely to the warm Dublin night. “They hurt too much.”
No sooner do the words come out of my mouth than I feel selfish for saying them. I’m living the kind of fantasy women daydream about. The glamour of being the worldwide spokeswoman for Amaryllis Events was exactly the sort of excitement I craved the first few years once I graduated college. I’ve traveled all over the world, witnessing brides falling in love with my stepmother’s designs. But I’m so exhausted of pretending my own heartache hasn’t abated each time I help a bride select her perfect gown from one of Emily’s stunning dresses.
Taking a sip of cuvée blanche, I roll the candied apricot and orange flavors over my tongue as I think about how I came to be standing here.
I was practically born into the world of fashion, but it wasn’t until Em came into our lives and showed me how much she pours into each of her designs that I realized fashion is a lot like falling in love. You have to be willing to bleed, to drown, to die. And as I’ve learned, rubbing a hand over my still-aching heart, I’ve done that once. And once was more than enough.
“Just admit it, Jenna. You want the fairy tale. It simply doesn’t exist,” I mock myself lightly as I stand in the open window letting the night air in.
Then again, he ran first—my fingers clench the iron balustrade—right after he took me in his classroom after I turned in my marketing final when I was twenty. My last class. He ripped the paper out of my hand, tossed it down, and…
Hearing a familiar blip, I’m torn from the memories as I quickly make my way across the room. I answer the FaceTime call and sigh a little inside when mahogany-brown eyes light up as he sees my face. “Why don’t I hear yelling? Shouldn’t the kids be home with you?” I tease my father gently.
“Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
Propping my chin on my hand, I arch a brow. “Really, Dad? It’s early here. Maybe I was debating going out in a few hours.” I exaggerate the truth a bit. The only thing I was debating at the ripe old age of twenty-five was the comfort of my bed. Alone.
“I don’t want to know. These are the kinds of things you share with Em.”
I flutter my lashes at him. “Listen, the stories I hear about you…”
“Are lies. Filthy lies, Jenna.”
I laugh. “You always seem to know when to call.”
“Feeling a bit blue, baby? Anything you want to talk to your old man about?”
“Just preparing for the next few days. You know how crazy things get once we start the final fittings.”
My father groans. “Don’t I ever. I’ve heard Em talk about this kind of white-glove service for years. Speaking of which, she’s shoving me out of the way.”
His face is replaced by that of my stepmother. I smile as the woman whose name has been heralded in bridal fashion along with Hailey Paige, Reem Acra, and Rivina in recent years beams at me. “Hey, Em.”
“God, Jenna. You’re stunning. I still remember you at sixteen. Seeing you makes me proud and old.”
I laugh. “Stick with proud, Em. You’re not that much older than I am.” And another arrow of pain pierces my heart. Em’s just a few years older than he is. Quickly shoving the thought aside, I ask, “Is there anything I need to know about tomorrow?”
Em launches into a litany of last-minute items I take careful note of. “Maura is a dream of a bride, Jenna. Her whole family will be with her for the fitting. They’re very close.”
I smirk. “I already reserved the largest room there is, Em. How many am I talking? Six, eight?”
“Fourteen.”
I choke on a laugh. “Fourteen?”
“Generations of love in a single room. One day, I hope that’s what we’re building to leave to our children,” she says whimsically.
Setting aside work, I tell her, “You are—you have. Years from now, Freeman family members will be gathering in much the same way.”
“Well, we’re counting on all of you to do that for us.”
I shake my head. “I’m a Madison, not a Freeman,” I remind her.
“You’re family, Jenna,” Em scolds me.
And in that moment, the words just rush out. “You’ve been everything to me, Em. You’re my inspiration for so much.”
“Damn you, Jenna. How long until you’re coming home? I need to hug you.”
“Ten days,” I remind her.
“Not soon enough,” she grumbles.
My heart, so anxious before, settles. I’m heading back to exactly what I left—a bedrock of love built on respect, trust, and faith. “I better let you go. Tomorrow’s a long day,” I tell her.
“I know. And Jenna?”
“Hmm?”
“Sometimes it’s better to talk to someone about what’s really wrong. Holding it all in doesn’t help.”
“Asking me something, Em?” I challenge her.
“No, just speaking from experience. We love you.”
“I know. Love all of you.” I press End to finish the call.
* * * *
I don’t know why I woke up with a feeling of apprehension coursing through my veins. I feel like cursing the ridiculously blue sky considering my past chased me into my dreams, but somehow I find that impossible. Passing St. Stephen’s Green, my heels make a staccato sound on the stone streets as I turn down Grafton where the exclusive bridal salon that wisely chose to stock Amaryllis Designs is located.
A chill races down the back of my neck as the feeling I’m being watched almost causes me to trip over a slightly upturned paver. “That’s ridiculous,” I snap. “You hardly know anyone here.” But even as I say the words aloud, I know I should be cautious. I can only imagine what the male members of my family would say if I ignored my instincts. “Keene would blow a gasket,” I mutter just as my fingers touch the handle to the discreet glass door that hides the bridal salon above.
When I hear, “Who’s Keene, Jenna?” I freeze. There’s no way Finn O’Roarke just asked me that question. Ignoring my hallucination, I swing open the door and step forward to press the button for the small lift. Miraculously the doors open, and I move inside and press the button for the second floor before my head falls forward in agony.
Maybe it’s being here in this city. All these sights and sounds that remind me of him, I think desperately.
Then I hear footsteps, slow and measured, bringing someone onto the elevator before the doors swoosh shut.
“I can’t find the words for how lovely you are.” When he speaks again, I realize fate’s just a cruel bitch making me see him again.
“There’s no way you said that to me,” I hiss.
“Why not?” Finn’s scent overwhelms me in a devastating way. It feels like yesterday instead of five damn years since I’ve been this close to him. I feel his hand smooth over my shoulder, dragging his fingers over the bronze silk of my dress.
My eyes pop open, and I see his gray eyes fixed on my lips. He leans down, his intent obvious when the elevator dings behind him.
My hand slams up against his chest. Shoving him aside, I manage to slip through the doors before they close. I jeer, “Because you told me I was nothing but a little girl who needed to wish upon a few stars to find her prince.”
He winces. “Jenna…”
“Save it, Finn. Or should I still be calling you Professor O’Roarke?” I mock as I back out of the elevator.
“You didn’t ask what I was doing here!” he yells after me.
I still before I turn and inform him coolly, “I have too much to do to care.” With that parting shot, I pivot and make my way down the hall.
I have to make it through today before I can process the fact I know Finn is in Dublin. I have to finish the job I was sent here to do.
Then I can do what I did last time.
Cry.
Chapter Two
Finn
Jenna Madison was a temptation at twenty when she sat in my international marketing class. There was a preposterous pull between us from the second she walked in the door. There was no way I’d have predicted that behind fathomless brown eyes was a woman whose brain was light-years ahead of my own. Jenna openly challenged me on some of the theories I was teaching, not only substantiating her arguments with fact but with practical experience.
Fuck, I’m surprised I didn’t make a move on her before she turned in that last exam. But after I touched her, after I tasted her, after I sank my cock inside of her, I turned on her from the guilt I felt afterward. Jenna didn’t deserve it. And to be honest, I’m not sure I’ve slept a full night since.
I was a real prince because I didn’t just break her heart that day, I broke my own.
“No one’s ever made me feel like this, Finn,” she breathed just as I wrenched my lips from hers, my cock still throbbing. “I swear no one ever will.”
I hesitated. “Jenna, you’re a beautiful girl, but…”
“But what?” Her hand trembled.
Despite my insides churning, I did what I knew to be best. I pulled away even as I lifted a hand to smooth her silky hair that was mussed due to my hands fisting it. “But someday, you’re going to wish upon the right star to find your prince. He’s just not me.”
Wrenching back, Jenna whispered, “You can’t be serious.”
“I am. I’m…”
“Don’t you dare say you’re sorry.”
I didn’t. Instead, I held it in while I watched a single tear trail down her face. Just one before she backed away, righting her clothes.
When she reached the door, she clutched the jamb. “Thank you for reminding me of what I’m really looking for.”
And being the stupid feck I was, I asked, “What’s that?”
“A love built on respect, trust, and faith.” Then she swept out the door and out of my life.
That was the last image I had of her until I saw her face in a newspaper in London. I went home and searched her name and found her in Rome. Berlin. Moscow. All over the bloody Americas. And each time I saw her face, I called myself a fool.
Making my way down the hall toward the bridal salon, I realize something critical has changed—the exuberance and passion that lit her from within are hidden.
“An áit thíos atá ceapaithe duit, a dhiabhal.” I wish myself to the depths of hell as I hear a door slam at the far end of the hallway.
My grandmother used to pray God would never grant us peace with the way we used to get underfoot as children. As I press the bell, I mutter, “Well, seanmháthair, are you happy?”
Interminable moments pass before the sound of the tumblers click. “What do you want?” Jenna demands.
Everything, but that’s not what I say. “I believe we have an appointment.”
And just like that long-ago afternoon, every ounce of blood drains from her beautiful face. Unlike then, there’s no passionate outburst. All she does is murmur, “O’Roarke. Of course. Come right this way. The bride is due to arrive any moment.”
I step inside and into a different world—Jenna’s world.
And immediately, I’m fascinated as the student becomes the teacher.
* * * *
Several hours later, my baby sister is glowing.
“Finn, I feel beautiful.” Her face tips up with joy.
“Mo sicín beag, you’ve always been beautiful. This dress just makes you more so,” I declare resolutely.
Even as her eyes fill, she punches me. “Don’t call me your little chicken.”
Lifting her hand to my heart, I remind her, “You always have been. Will is a lucky man.”
Maura huffs. “I had to work hard enough to make him believe it.”
“Sometimes we’re foolish,” I murmur. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Jenna stiffen before her professionalism kicks in.
“Maura, I hate to interrupt, but we need to get you out of that dress so the alterations team can make those small adjustments in time for your big day.”
Although my sister is reluctant, Jenna coaxes her behind a velvet curtain again. While she does so, I escort my family to the main salon. My grandmother grips my arm. “She’s the one.”
I don’t try to deny it. “Yes.” After I returned from America mere weeks after Jenna graduated, I retreated to my family’s farm to lick my self-inflicted wounds. One night, I told my grandmother about how I found my heart in America and I let it go because she was so young.
And she
called me a fool. “The heart is powered by many things, Finn. Age isn’t one of them.”
It wasn’t long after I saw Jenna’s face for the first time representing this American designer. I’ve been following her, waiting for the right moment to approach.
That moment is now.
“You owe her an apology,” she scolds me.
“If she’ll allow it” is all I’m able to get out before the object of my every desire joins us.
Jenna moves directly to my sister. “I hope the dress was everything you hoped for?”
“It was everything I wished for,” Maura corrects.
I’m the only one who notices Jenna’s slight flinch at the word. “All the better. I was asked to pass this along to you.” Jenna crosses to her desk and slips an envelope from the leather bag she was carrying earlier. “Congratulations on your nuptials from all of us at Amaryllis Events,” she pronounces.
Maura frowns. “What’s this?”
Jenna smiles mysteriously, causing my cock to harden. “Open it and see.”
We all gather closer as Maura opens the clasp and then gasps. “Is this…me?”
“It’s like looking into a photograph,” I declare.
And that’s when the woman I fell for five bloody long years ago shines through.
“Emily will be thrilled. It’s something she does only for her custom-made designs, much like the special markings on each of the dresses.” Jenna’s face glows with love when she talks about this woman.
Despite my overwhelming desire, there’s a hole in my chest. I told her to wish, and now she has this whole other life. I have less than nine days to convince her to take a chance on one with me. After I give her a long-overdue apology.
I linger behind as everyone makes their way out. “That was a lovely touch.”
“Hmm?” Jenna’s collecting her bag and swinging it up on her shoulder.
“The drawing,” I clarify.