Unless

by Avery Aster

  Excerpt

  Sonny sighed, enjoying the heat of the sunshine on her back. Warm and relaxing. Soothing her tension.

  Last night had been difficult for her. To others, it seemed like she easily walked away from any man, totally unaffected. But the truth was, her date with Bryan had been hard on her. As much as she would never consider going out with him, it wasn’t really because she didn’t want to. She just… couldn’t.

  Deep down inside, though, she longed for a loving relationship with a man. To meet someone, go out on a date. To build a loving connection.

  To be touched by a man.

  Oh, God, she wanted that so much. But she was too afraid.

  Anytime her natural urges bubbled to the surface, like they had last night with Bryan, it wasn’t long before she started having dreams. Those dreams started off sweet and loving, then turned hot and steamy, searing her senses. Inevitably, however, they turned dark and terrifying and she’d wake up shaking, her whole body sweating.

  If only she could just have nice, steamy sex dreams that helped her relieve her ache.

  Her skin prickled and a heated awareness washed through her body, but it wasn’t from thoughts of having a nice sexual fantasy.

  Someone was watching her.

  She suddenly became very conscious of her situation. Wearing just a bikini. Her top undone.

  Alone on the roof of the building.

  She drew in a deep breath.

  It was the middle of a sunny summer afternoon on a Thursday. Usually no one came up to the pool this time of day. Anyone who wanted to enjoy the warm afternoon and go in the water normally went to the beach a few blocks away.

  But someone was definitely watching her and it must be from inside, because she would have heard the sliding glass doors open.

  She sucked in a breath of air, calming herself. It had taken her a long time to build up her courage to make these outings to the pool and she wasn’t going to let herself slide back to the blinding fear. There were security cameras on the deck and she was in view of one right now. She always let Leandra know when she was going to sun herself on the deck, just with a casual message, as part of letting her know how her day was going.

  If anything happened, it would be on the security film. Not that she’d let it get that far if she could help it. She wasn’t powerless. She had pepper spray in her bag, her cell phone handy so she could quickly dial 911, and she’d taken self-defense classes.

  She reached around and fastened her bikini top, then slowly sat up. Casually, she reached for her silky, black floral cover up and pulled it on, carefully not looking toward the windows. She wanted to be covered and feeling a little more settled when she faced the intruder.

  Before she had a chance, though, the sliding doors opened. She glanced up to see a man step onto the deck.

  She sighed in relief when she saw it was Steve from the tenth floor. They had mutual friends in the building and had gotten to know each other and become friends of sorts.

  He was a really nice guy. And good looking, with his broad shoulders, well-defined torso, and dark blond hair swept back from his handsome face.

  Steve glanced over his shoulder at the open door. It seemed he was waiting for someone to join him.

  When his gaze swept outside again, he saw her for the first time.

  His face beamed with his warm, friendly smile. “Hi, Sonny. Nice afternoon.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  She wouldn’t mind chatting with him. She’d found she was always pretty comfortable around Steve which was nice for a change, but she didn’t know how to give out an inviting vibe.

  She pulled her bag closer, and routed through it, just for something to distract herself.

  Then another man stepped outside.

  She glanced up and her heart thumped to life.

  The man was…breathtaking.

  His body was big and powerful. His arms and chest bulged with muscles and he had tattoos covering his body. She couldn’t tell what they all were since they were so dense, but she did make out a thorny rose vine coiling along one arm and around his torso, tendrils even coiling up his neck.

  His hair was dark brown, shaved close to his head, and his ear glinted with piercings.

  He glanced at her and smiled. Immediately, she dropped her gaze to her bag and she started sorting through it again, as if looking for something.

  They started to walk and she was afraid they’d come over, but instead they headed toward some chairs closer to the edge of the deck.

  Oh, God, the man was so heart-stoppingly masculine. Her body tingled as her hormones sparked to life.

  Which she didn’t understand. She should be afraid, but the sensation pulsing through her was pure, unadulterated lust.

  Unnerved, she grabbed her book and suntan lotion and shoved them into her bag, then pushed her towel in, too. She slipped on her sandals and surged to her feet, then hurried to the door. As she slid it open, she glanced over her shoulder and saw that the big man was watching her, a frown on his face.

  Did he think she was running away from him?

  She didn’t want any man to think she was afraid of him—showing strength was important—but right now, the threat she faced was her own unbridled libido. She didn’t understand her reaction to him and that unsettled her so much she had to escape.

  She closed the door behind her and hurried away.

  * * *

  Tal watched the woman practically run off, his stomach clenching. All he’d done was smile at her. He hadn’t said a word. Hadn’t made a move toward her. Yet she’d up and fled.

  He would have liked to have talked to her. Gotten to know her a little. There was something about her.

  She was a beautiful woman, with her long, blonde hair cascading in waves over her shoulders. A pretty face with kissable heart-shaped lips. And he’d caught more than a glimpse of her curvy body through the glass when she’d sat up to pull on her cover up.

  But what attracted him was more than that.

  There was an aura of vulnerability around her. And a sadness in her eyes.

  He sensed a need in her to have someone or something more in her life.

  Or maybe he was just reflecting his own feelings onto her.

  It caused him real pain that she would take one look at him and run away, as if he were some kind of threat.

  “She’s pretty, right?” Steve said.

  “Yes, she is.” He glanced at his friend. “Are you interested in her?”

  “Well, yeah, what man wouldn’t be? But I don’t think we’d work out. We’ve talked a few times—she’s friends with my friend Meghan—but we seem to be developing more of a casual rapport rather than a romantic relationship. If you want to pursue her, don’t worry about me.”

  “I might if she didn’t seem so terrified of me.”

  “Hey, if you’re interested, don’t give up on her too fast. I think she’s been through something. She has these haunted eyes, you know? But I’m sure she’s trying to work through it. She’d need someone who’s willing to be patient and slow.” He shrugged. “But I think she’d be worth it.”

  Tal glanced at the door she’d escaped through.

  “Yeah, I think maybe you’re right.”

  * * *

  Dirty Talk, Secret Pleasure is the first exciting episode in New York Times Bestselling Author Opal Carew’s Dirty Talk series, a poignant erotic romance about a woman struggling with her sexuality because of a devastating trauma from her past, and the strong, sensitive man who helps her find her way. If you love bad-assed alpha heroes with a strong, protective streak then you’ll love Dirty Talk!

  Click here to buy this heart-rending erotic romance today!

  BONUS

  When you buy this book, you’ll also receive the erotic audio that Sonny listens to in the story. Be sure to listen to it alone – or with your lover – and be ready for your panties to melt right off!

  The Break by Debra Presley

  (Breaking Free, Par
t 1)

  © 2017 by Debra Presley

  This book contains graphic scenes and very sensitive subject matter.

  Excerpt

  As Rachelle lay motionless on the floor, fighting the urge to let the darkness win, a plan came to her. One that would, if it worked, set her free. If she failed, the consequences would end her.

  Other than the radiating throb of pain where his fist connected with her face, all she felt was an all-consuming numbness. He yelled, drunk and sloppy and so angry, but being drunk was no excuse. Nothing excused this, but she’d seen this ending coming.

  The hospital hosted a fundraising event for childhood cancer research. Dr. Trey Wellington III, the head of the department, would definitely be there with his perfect wife. He never missed an opportunity to be seen and show off.

  The irony wasn’t lost on Rachelle. The doctor who saved babies was really an abusive drunk who beat his wife.

  “I don’t think I ask a lot from you.” Trey’s angry voice broke through the ringing in her ears. “But you just couldn’t help yourself, could you? Flirting.” He spat the word out like it was dirty to even say. “And with him.”

  She had no idea who he was talking about, but she often didn’t. His mind was warped.

  “I share with my wife how he’s after my position, and what does she do? She struts herself in front of him, showing off her ass while smiling and laughing. Did you both have a good chuckle at my expense? Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

  Mark.

  She remembered now. He’d cornered her at the event, and no matter what she did, or said, he wouldn’t shut up. She hadn’t known it was Mark until it was too late. The only bright light, she’d thought, was Trey hadn’t been around when they were chatting. Apparently, she’d been wrong, and now she paid the price for that.

  Dr. Mark Anderson, a fairly new addition to the oncology team, young—or at least younger then Trey. All the nurses loved him, and for the last three months he’d been the thorn in her husband’s side. Every night, Trey came home and bitched about something that Mark did at work. His complaints seemed petty to Rachelle, but she’d never admit that out loud.

  “Got nothing to say?” he slurred, his voice closer than before.

  She didn’t bother answering because anything she said would anger him more. He was convinced she betrayed him. However, not answering would only make things worse for her. Slowly she licked her lips, testing to see if her brain would cooperate with her commands, and opened her mouth to respond, but it was too late.

  The kick to her ribs stole her breath. She gasped, trying to take in whatever air she could.

  “I saw. You had no idea I was watching, but I was there. How dare you? Stupid bitch. I provide you with everything.” His voice began to rise. “I spoil you. There’s nothing you need. I don’t ask for much in return, but instead of being at my side, you’re entertaining my colleagues, acting like a slut and embarrassing me. Did you think I would stand by like a little bitch and take it?”

  “I’m sorry,” she croaked. Tears fell and stung her face. “I’m so, so sorry,” she said with a sob. Once the tears started to fall, she couldn’t stop them. Not because she felt any guilt for the crimes he thought she committed. She cried for her life and how it had turned out.

  Rachelle had been nineteen when they met and twenty when they married. Everything about him was exciting. Trey, fifteen years her senior, was dashing and charming, and the age difference hadn’t mattered to her. Love made people do crazy, unexpected things, and Rachelle was no different. Despite her parents’ objections, they married the day after she turned twenty and moved across the country to Texas.

  Moving from Brooklyn, New York to Texas had Rachelle at a disadvantage, but she’d adjusted to the changes and loved being a doctor’s wife. They’d lived in a beautiful home with tons of land. Eventually, Rachelle made friends and volunteered her time at the hospital, helping parents deal with their child’s diagnosis. It was difficult to see children suffer, but the work was rewarding. She had planned to go to college, but between volunteering and keeping up social engagements with Trey, it just never happened.

  They were happy for a long time, but then things started to change. It was gradual, but the position he held was stressful, and she didn’t help by always pushing him to start a family and wanting to visit her parents. At least that’s what she told herself to excuse Trey’s change in behavior. But three month’s ago, when Mark had joined the staff at the hospital; Trey’s ego had taken a hit. Rachelle, apparently, was the perfect punching bag.

  “When will you learn?” he whispered in her ear as he picked her up. She held onto him, still crying, and soaked up the comfort he provided.

  He placed her on their bed, whispering words she refused to hear, until she finally succumb to the darkness that had been slowly taking over.

  * * *

  Rachelle woke to the muffled sound of music. It took a minute to paste together what was going on. Everything hurt. Breathing, moving, blinking—it all took effort. Slowly, she sat up and felt the restriction around her middle—Trey had taped up her ribs. She shuttered to think how bad she must look. If it was as horrible as she felt, then she was scared to look in the mirror.

  Tears blurred her vision. She sat in bed, thinking of the person she used to be. It was hard to believe she could’ve ever been that naïve. Before she met Trey, she had dated a few guys, but they were silly boys. She’d wanted a man. When Trey had shown interest in her, she’d been enamored with his charm and handsome features. He’d compliment her on her looks and body. She’d felt beautiful and special—two things she’d never felt at home.

  Now though, she didn’t recognize herself. The curves Trey loved so much, he now belittled her for. So she starved her body and pushed it to lose fifteen pounds. Her hair used to be a chestnut brown, but after Trey mentioned that it looked like a dirty mop, she’d dyed it blonde. She did anything and everything her husband wanted, to be who he thought she should be. He always had something to say about what she did or didn’t do, and she’d find herself with a black eye or a twisted ankle.

  She tried going to the sheriff once, but unfortunately for her, Trey’s reach in the community was long and her complaints to the sheriff fell on deaf ears. She had no one to help her, to protect her, so she had to rely on herself. If she wanted to be rescued, she had to do it.

  “Shit, shit, shit,” Rachelle cried out when she moved. Her body hurt, but it was manageable compared to the pounding in her head. The rhythmic thumping overwhelmed everything else.

  Now that Rachelle was fully awake, the music coming from downstairs seemed to be blaring in her head. Trey apparently felt no pain from all his drinking, the sounds coming through her door was evidence of his good mood. That’s the only time the radio played in their house. As if he heard her thoughts, the house suddenly became quiet and she knew that meant Trey would open the door to their room soon.

  She didn’t want to see him, but she needed his help. Moving on her own was just not happening, and this was the cycle she found herself in, one she desperately wanted out of.

  As predicted, the door opened and Trey strutted inside. “Good mor—baby, don’t move. You’ll hurt yourself.” He took his time walking over to her, carrying a tray with a cup of tea and toast on it. His fake concern sickened her and made her want to scream at him, but she wasn’t in any position to protest.

  The intensity of the pain wasn’t something she could mask; she never could. “Let me help you up.” He placed the tray on the bed and assisted Rachelle to her feet. They slowly walked to the bathroom, and she took care of her business, while he watched. She was far beyond caring that he didn’t allow her privacy, even in the bathroom. Over the years, little by little, Trey took more and more from her. It wasn’t something that Rachelle even noticed until it was too late.

  She washed her hands and let him guide her back to bed, not even bothering to look in the mirror. The last thing she wanted him to see was her reac
tion to the bruises he’d caused.

  “Here’s some breakfast. The tea is hot, so sip it slowly.” He instructed her like she was a five-year-old and not his wife. “I took the weekend off so that I can tend to you.” He kissed the side of her face as he tucked her back into bed.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, as if she was grateful the bastard would be home. Trey hovering over her, as if he actually gave a shit, was another form of torture for Rachelle. If he cared, he’d have never laid his hands on her.

  “I fixed you up while you were sleeping,” he chatted while she sipped her tea.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, not meeting his eyes.

  “I wish you didn’t push me to do these things. I hate hurting you.”

  “I’m sorry.” The words stung, like swallowing shards of glass, but she knew the script and wouldn’t stray from it. Still, she couldn’t meet his eyes.

  “Hey, look at me,” he said.

  She placed her tea back on the tray and lifted her head.

  “We’ll do something together. Get away from here and do something fun. Whatever you want.” He gently brushed her cheek with the back of his knuckles.

  “I’d like that,” she said, sticking to the words he wanted to hear.

  “Okay, you finish this and then rest. I have just the place in mind. I’ll set it all up. We’ll leave later.” He tucked a stray piece of her hair behind her ear before he left.

  * * *

  A week had passed since the dreaded party, and Rachelle was on the mend but more determined than ever to get away. Trey had taken her to a very exclusive resort. They had their own beautiful cabin off the lake, and if she had been with anyone else, under any other circumstance, she’d have found the place tranquil and amazing. However, having him dote all over her was stressful and tiring.

  The only positive to the trip, which Rachelle decided to concentrate on, was the plan that popped into her head while Trey tortured her. It had started to take shape: the dream of leaving Trey. It began a year ago, when she stumbled upon a women’s shelter after visiting her OB/GYN—an appointment that she kept secret from Trey. A long time ago she’d wanted children, but he’d wanted to wait. She thanked God for that now.