by T. L Smith
“Misha always sent me messages. If you had looked properly, you would have seen I never replied to any of them.”
“Have you ever slept with her?” I ask.
“Once. That was long before I met you.”
“Why can’t you have kids, Marcus?”
His hand lifts, and I watch as his muscles strain in his shirt. He looks everywhere but at me. “Will you come to my house?” he asks. “We can talk there.”
“Maybe tomorrow,” I reply while opening my car door and sliding in. He leans on the window and looks down at me.
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes, tomorrow, Marcus. You aren’t the center of my universe anymore.”
“Fair enough.” Marcus steps back, giving me room to move. “Tomorrow, pretty girl.”
I give him a simple nod and drive off.
It’s late, raining, and I’m soaked as I knock on his door. I simply couldn’t wait until tomorrow. I want answers now. I need them. At first, I don’t think he’s home, but his truck is here.
“Marcus,” I yell, my hand banging on his door.
A light flicks on, and through the window in the door I watch as he comes down the stairs with no shirt, and only a pair of gray tracksuit pants hanging from his hips.
My body starts shivering when he comes to the door. He doesn’t invite me inside, he just stares at me like he can’t believe I’m here.
To be honest, neither can I.
“I want kids,” I say to him. “Why can’t you have kids?”
“You want to talk about this now?” he asks, running a hand through his hair.
“Yes. Why?” I wrap my arms around myself as the rain pours even harder.
“Come inside.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I don’t want to be in your space, I simply want to know why. Now tell me, Marcus. Tell me, so I can walk away for good if I need to.”
“You want to walk away?”
“I don’t want to, but I will. I’ve sacrificed myself enough for you, even though I know you never asked that of me. But I did. I put away my needs because I wanted to be with you.”
“I never asked you to.”
“I know, and that makes it worse,” I say, shaking my head. I’m freezing, my bottom lip is involuntarily quivering, but I’m not moving. I want my answer. “Tell. Me. Now.”
“No,” he replies.
I huff at his words and turn, walking back to my car. Before I can get there he turns me around, the rain’s running down his face.
“Let me go.” I pull away, but he makes a move for me again and I slip. When I do, I go down, pulling him on top of me so we’re both wet. I struggle to move with him on me, but he doesn’t budge. He looks down at me, and I see it then, the change in his eyes. Something is different.
“I told you about my mother. I don’t want to bring children into a world where this is what happens to them. I would never wish that on any child.”
“You think you will turn into her?”
He closes his eyes, water falling from his eyelashes. “I would never be her, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have her traits. I’m guarded like she was. I don’t like people, which is exactly like her.” He tells me how he feels.
“That doesn’t mean you will be like her.”
“I don’t want kids, Rochelle.”
A heavy sigh leaves my mouth, then I push at him. He gets up and helps me up too.
“That’s it? I don’t want kids and you walk away?”
“It’s what has to be. I would never choose to be with someone who loves the dead more than he loves the living. But here I am, telling you I love you regardless. And here you are, telling me you won’t give me what I need. What I want from life.”
“You can have a happy life with me without kids, pretty girl.”
I put my hands up while shaking my head. “But I don’t want that. I want to know what it’s like to grow a baby in my belly. I want to know what that unconditional love is like. It changed my sister, and I want the same thing. I saw what that love can do.”
“My love can do that too,” he says, his lips now in a thin line. I don’t think he’s realized what he’s just said, but I certainly took notice.
“You love me?” I ask him, confused. He knows I love him, but not once has he told me he loves me. Every time I told him, I got nothing in return.
“Yes. Do you need written confirmation?”
“Well, yes.”
Marcus reaches out and pulls me into his arms, then his hands start tearing at my clothes, and I let him.
“This doesn’t solve our problem. I can’t be with you if you don’t want the same things as me,” I say as he pulls my skirt from my body, then lifts my hands, taking off my shirt.
“I want whatever it is you want to make you happy.”
“I want kids.”
“Except that.” Then he lifts me.
“No. It will never work unless we want the same things,” I say as he walks us to his bedroom. My legs are wrapped around him as he holds me tightly to him. I can feel he’s hard beneath me, but I won’t act on it. I can’t.
“I want you. Whatever comes with that, I will learn to accept.”
“You will?”
Marcus places me on the bed and looks down at me, my hair a frizzy mess from the rain. His locks are sticking to his forehead, and he never looked so fucking good. His gray tracksuit pants are wet, revealing the outline of his hard cock, so he peels them off, standing naked in front of me. Hard and exceptional.
“As long as you are a part of the package, I think I can walk through this thing called life.”
“Really?” I ask again.
“Yes. Now will you shut up so I can kiss you?”
“Tell me you love me again.”
Marcus bends forward, his lips touching mine, and soft slow kisses begin to take over my mouth and own it as if it was always his. Pulling back, I look at him straight in the eyes. “Tell me, Marcus.”
“Only for you,” he says while pushing me back and climbing over me. “Only for you will I say those words…. I fucking love you, pretty girl, and I will until the day I fucking die. That I know for sure.”
I smile. “And kids?”
“Can we start slow? We have time.”
“Slow? As in how slow?” I ask breathlessly while he pushes my legs apart.
“How about you move in, then we talk more about the kids part. But I would like to be buried deep in you every night for the rest of my life.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I smirk as he reaches between my legs, touches my clit with his fingers, and rubs in a circular motion while he nips at my lips.
Chapter Thirty-One
Marcus
She’s asleep next to me while my hands roam her perfect body. Rochelle moans, and turns to face me.
“Did you ask me to move in with you last night?” she asks, smiling up at me.
“I think I did.”
“Wowser! Who knew all I had to do was break my own heart for you to come to your senses?”
“It broke mine, too.”
Rochelle’s eyes go wide at my words. But I’m not going to lie to her, I was fucking lonely and desperate when she left. I didn’t know I needed her that much until she was gone. I didn’t know I wanted her so badly until I couldn’t have her.
“Did you think this was how we’d end up?”
“We’ve only just started,” I say, leaning into her, kissing along her bare neck, when her phone starts ringing. She moans, wanting to ignore it but knowing she can’t. “I have to get it,” she says when it rings again.
“Rochelle.”
I hear a scream. Rochelle giggles at the sound of her screeching voice.
“It’s my sister,” she whispers. “Clearly, still drunk.”
“So, I may be at your lover’s brother’s playhouse thing. Can you come get me?”
Rolling off her I get up.
Rochelle
I didn’t want to come back here—I
hate this place and the memories it holds of Tanika now. The gates open and I spot Blaze standing at the wooden door, holding it open as I slide out of my car.
“Déjà vu,” he says.
“Yes, another one close to me I’ll have to save from you,” I say while walking up to him.
Blaze’s lip quirks. “As long as you don’t get this one killed, we’ll be fine.”
His words anger me, and I instantly want to strangle him.
How fucking dare he!
“This is my sister, and she will not have anything to do with you.” I cross my arms over my chest.
“I haven’t killed you because Marcus loves you. Don’t make my brother hate me because I found the need to end you.”
I hear Kat giggle and watch as she comes out. She leans on him and he takes her weight. “Rochelle, how come you never invited me here before? I love it.”
“You shouldn’t be here,” I tell Kat.
Blaze turns to her. “Your annoying sister is right. Don’t fucking come back.”
Kat seems to straighten and sober all at once. “What the fuck?” Her eyes turn to angry slits as she steps up to Blaze. Kat has a temper, a bad one. “Did you really just say that?”
“Yes. Now fuck off.”
Kat shakes her head, steps closer, and I watch as she grabs his cock, cupping it in her palm. “I’m going to break your fucking heart, Blaze, and you’re going to enjoy every single moment of it.” Kat smiles, and I know she means every word. She drops his cock and walks over to me threading her arm through mine as we turn and walk off. I flick a glance back over my shoulder to Blaze, and see him watching her with a look I can’t quite read on his face.
Is that appreciation?
Loss?
Or is it hope?
I don’t know, but I’m eager to find out.
Because Kat is going to do exactly what she said—she is going to break that man’s heart.
She’s vengeful like that.
This is going to be fun to watch.
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Love Drunk
Available now!
Prologue
His flawless lips are right in my face, his perfect body inches from mine.
How I adore this man.
With everything I am.
Even when I know I shouldn’t.
His eyes skim my body, roam me with a pleasure that shines so brightly.
Rough hands touch me. If he wants to claim me again, I will let him.
I love this man.
I’m love-drunk on him, and I’m afraid I will never get sober.
The problem is, I want to be sober. No. I need to be sober.
“Everly.”
I briefly close my eyes, taking in that word that captures me, steals me, and makes me drunk, so fucking drunk on him I can’t think clearly.
His breath’s on my ear now. He’s fast, always so damn fast. I can’t keep up with him.
“Don’t.” My eyes flash open, and he’s back in front of my face.
“Don’t what, Everly? Touch you?” His hand cups my sex.
Tears stream down my face and fall onto my top.
“Why cry, Everly? I am not hurting you. Yet.”
I shake my head. “Why?”
The tears are now streaming so fast it’s like Niagara Falls cascading over my eyelids. He leans in close again. His breath makes me tingle, and he licks my ear then takes my earlobe in his mouth, biting it.
“I want you. There’s no other excuse.”
I shake my head and he pulls back. His hand is still firmly on my sex, which he’s touched many, many times.
I’ve been in love with him now for three months.
How was I so blind?
How did I fall so fast?
“You don’t lie, Gunner. Tell me the truth.” My tears dry as he pulls back and looks me in the eyes. His gorgeous, dark, hypnotic eyes stare at me like they’re seeing right inside my very soul.
“You can’t handle the truth. And your father won’t tell you the truth either.”
I scoff and shake my head. “I want it from you. Why can’t you give me the truth?”
His hand touches his perfect hair—brown with natural blond highlights. It’s flawless. It’s the type of hair women pay big money for, and he’s somehow naturally blessed with it.
But, as with all blessings—and believe me, he has many—there comes a price.
I was too late to see the price.
To see who he really is.
I’m not sure I even see it all now.
Pieces. Fragments. Scraps. That’s all I have.
Just like one drink when you’re an alcoholic. You tell yourself only one more sip, it won’t do anything. But one sip is never enough to quench that thirst.
He’s like that for me.
I keep telling myself that one more sip won’t hurt, and that I won’t get drunk on him.
What a lie.
I’m always drunk on him.
Totally and utterly intoxicated by him.
“Everly.”
The tears have stopped.
He’s watching me. Waiting. Unsure.
“Did you ever love me?”
His eyes look to the floor for answers that don’t come.
That hurts when there’s no automatic answer.
I turn to walk away, but like usual, he grabs my arm and turns me back to him.
“You know not to speak of that. You know who I am. I have not hidden the fact.”
I pull my arm free, and this time he lets me. “So many things not to do, not to ask, not to feel.” I throw my hands up in the air.
His posture shifts, and he stands tall. “I changed for you,” he says through gritted teeth.
This time, I laugh. “It’s nothing more than what you wanted me to see. Isn’t it?”
Turning, I walk out the door, hopefully taking my love-drunk heart with me.
“I love you, Everly. Is that what you want to hear?”
I stop.
Turn around.
I’m out the front now, he’s followed me outside with his shirt open from my hands—having a mind of their own—unbuttoning it while we were inside. My eyes betray me, they can’t help themselves as they drop to see his gorgeous physique.
“You just want me to stay, Gunner.”
His hand runs through his mass of curls. Why is he so devastatingly beautiful? It’s really unfair.
“Everly.”
“Stop saying my name,” I yell.
A door opens and a neighbor sticks her head out.
“Get back inside,” Gunner says without looking.
I turn back and see he’s watching me intently.
“I don’t think I can do this. Thank you, Gunner. Have a good life.”
The minute I turn, the tears start. They fall hard and fast like a thundering waterfall gushing with force and ferocity.
My heart is breaking, tearing into shreds. I’m not sure how I’m putting one foot in front of the other. But I am. I am walking away from him. Hopefully leaving the love-drunk part of me behind.
I walk past the club where it all started. The place where I met him.
It’s where my story with him started, so I guess it is fitting it ends so close to it.
Chapter One
My hands are on the hem of my dress—it’s one of those that creep all the way up and doesn’t stop creeping until your panties are showing. I try my hardest to pull it down, but the minute I walk, it sneaks its way back up to my ass.
May’s laughing and brushing my hands away as we a
rrive at the club door. Her dress, on the other hand, doesn’t budge. Somehow it sticks to her like glue. The cocktail dress is made from red velvet and is beautiful. She’s matched it with a pair of sky-high black Louboutin heels. May’s ass is perfect, and the dress shows all her curves with nothing left to the imagination. While my ass, thanks to my mother, is curvy. I have junk in my trunk, that’s for sure.
“Leave it,” May states while she brushes my hands away again. I run my fingers through my dark hair hoping it doesn’t frizz later on. Puckering my lips together, I smudge the lipstick between my lips that May insisted I wear tonight, after telling me I have the perfect Cupid’s bow lips.
The bouncer opens the rope to let us in, and May gives him the biggest of smiles she can muster. As she walks past him, her long straight blonde hair sways from side to side.
I’ve always admired her confidence, it’s something she has in abundance. Where I only have scraps of it left. She sees no harm in flirting and taking a man home with her. I, on the other hand, would have a panic attack thinking he might actually fucking kill me, or something worse. Who knows? Okay, I know what you’re thinking—there’s nothing worse than being killed, but let me tell you, there is.
I’m no angel.
My father runs his business a certain way, and some parts of it are considered dangerous. There are things he does which I shouldn’t know about. But it’s hard to keep secrets when men are constantly coming in and out of your house at all hours of the night. Or when you have a bodyguard with you on your way to school. I overheard these men talking sometimes when I was bored and would sneak out of my bedroom. The way they spoke about what they would do to people who didn’t listen or conform still sends shivers down my spine when I think about it all these years later.
There is definitely worse.
In some instances, death is the easy way out, and even preferable to the alternative.
Granted, I stayed far away from everything that was happening around me—and especially from my father’s business—and did my own thing. I only went home on weekends for my obligatory family dinners or Sunday lunches. It was all part of my arrangement with them.
