Blood roared in my ears and my skin felt so hot, so tight, I thought I’d crawl right out of it. A million things raced through my head but when I spoke, I didn’t say any of them.
“So you broke his damn arm?” I blurted out.
He smiled, the jerk. “In my defense, he pulled a knife on me.”
“A...” Squeezing my eyes closed, I tried to block out the image. “You said he pulled a gun. Now a knife. So, a knife and a gun?”
When he didn’t answer, I opened my eyes and glared at him. “Answer me!”
“Two guns and a knife,” Casper said, saying it with such obvious reluctance that I knew he didn’t want to tell me at all. “Perhaps if I’d been less distracted, I would have searched him after I took his first weapon and found the other two and I could have avoided breaking his arm. I’m sorry.”
I blinked and shook my head. “I don’t think I’m the one you’re supposed to apologize to. You didn’t break my arm.”
“If it will help, I can call him and apologize.”
Peeling my fingers from his wrists, I nudged him back and went over to the loveseat. My legs were wobbly and it didn’t surprise me at all. “He pulled a gun on you, then a knife, then another gun but you’ll call him and apologize.”
“He’s a cop who’d been worrying over his missing sister for several days.” Casper stared at me unflinchingly. “He’d been worried about you. He loves you. I can’t be angry that he did what he felt was necessary out of that love.”
That tight, hot ball of emotion returned, lodging in my throat and rendering speech impossible. Covering my face with my hands, I struggled to control myself as too many feelings raged inside. Instinctively, I started to rock as I fought to untangle all the emotions, but there were just so many and I was spiraling, lost inside them.
Some of the things I felt right then, I didn’t even know how to describe.
“Tia.”
Casper’s voice drifted over me and around me, but I couldn’t quite focus.
Then he caught my hands and pulled them away and I had to look at him.
He knelt in front of me. The stark expression on his face hit me dead center in my chest and I flinched from the impact.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded. “What did I say? What did I do?”
“Idiot,” I choked out. Nothing else came to mind, not word-wise, at least. I pulled free of his grasp, then caught his head, pulling him to me.
“Tia—”
“Shut up,” I said against his lips. “Kiss me. I need you.”
Pulling him closer, I slanted my mouth over his and wrapped my arms around the wide shelf of his shoulders, clinging tight. He came to his knees and pulled me to the edge of the seat and I gasped because now I felt him, thick and hard, through the layer of denim separating us. His jeans—only his jeans. I hadn’t pulled on panties and the shirt I wore was already up to my hips.
“Get up.” I urged him on by pulling at his belt loops and after a few more rough, hungry kisses, he rose but when he went to unzip his jeans, I knocked his hands away, rising to deal with the task myself, then turned and pushed him down. He pulled his jeans down to his knees but I found I couldn’t get close enough. Shooting a look at the house behind me, I glanced back at him. “Did you notice if there were any cars in the driveway next door?”
He wrapped his hand around his cock, his other arm behind his head as he stared down at me.
“There was. I don’t care.” His gaze dipped to my mouth.
My pussy throbbed. Licking my lips, I caught the waistband of his jeans and dragged them down to his ankles. “In that case...”
After stripping the material completely off, I settled between his thighs, the blanket I’d dropped providing some padding between my knees and the wooden planks. Even before I bent over him, Casper had gathered my hair into a loose tail and when I moved in closer, he started breathing heavier and harder. With his free hand, he braced his cock, holding it at the base.
Part of me wanted to slow down and enjoy...tease.
But too much of me was desperate, that frenzied need roiling inside, fighting for release.
I took him in my mouth.
He grunted, a hard shudder racking his body. “More...”
I took more. I took him until he hit the back of my throat, then I swallowed and tried to take him even deeper. Only when my eyes were watering and my throat resisted did I pull back, and I pushed myself harder the next time. He tasted different and I realized with a flush it was because he’d been inside me. It made that pulsing ache in my core intensify.
I whimpered, shuddering. My nipples dragged over his thighs and that was more sweet torture.
Casper shifted. Knocked off balance, I fell back, my shoulders bumping into the wide lip of the stone firepit, the tall walls a barrier between me and the flames.
He rose, shoving the loveseat back. It only had six or eight inches, but it went flying until the railing forced it to stop.
Eyes wild, Casper said, “On your knees. Open.”
Shaking, I complied with a whimper, opening for him as he aimed the hard, rude thrust of his cock for my lips. He fisted a hand in my hair and cupped my chin with his free hand, angling my head until he had me where he wanted—my gaze meeting his as he fucked my mouth.
My pussy clenched.
My nipples tightened.
And when he closed his eyes and shuddered, that tight, hard ball of emotion expanded, more and more...until it exploded—a different kind of release. Almost bowled over by the emotional upheaval, my sense of self faded away for a few seconds. Minutes...maybe even hours. There was just that crushing, yet liberating sensation of everything I’d felt no longer trapped inside myself as I knelt there in front of him, his hands on me, urging me on.
Then he was lifting me and I was on my back.
He slammed into me, then went completely still.
“You were crying. Why?”
Arching closer, I rubbed against him. “It doesn’t matter. Please!”
“It matters.” He sounded bewildered. But he didn’t make me wait. He filled me, again and again, hands cupping my face as he kissed away the tears, then covered my mouth. His voice raspy, he murmured, “Is this the feeling-a-whole-hell-of-a-lot thing again?”
“Yeah.” I sighed, relieved he remembered, that he got it. That I didn’t have to explain. “Casper...”
“Meric.” He pushed up onto his hands, hovering over me. “My name is Meric. Say it. I want to hear my name on your lips.”
Stunned, I looked into his vivid green eyes. I hadn’t realized I’d needed that from him. This piece—this real piece. But now that I had it, now that it settled into that place in my heart that he’d completely taken over, I couldn’t believe how much I’d longed for it.
“Meric,” I whispered, smiling up at him. “Mine.”
Meric came back down over me then, one hand cradling my head, the other spread wide over my hip. “Tia...mine.”
There were other words burning inside me, awkward ones that I was so bad at saying. But there was time for that later. Maybe he’d even be able to say it to me at some point. For now, I curled my arms around his neck and pulled him to me. “Meric...”
He shuddered and thrust deep, his cock stretching and pulsing and filling me.
So I said his name again and again, until we finally crashed together.
He sprawled on top of me, half on the love seat, half on the wooden deck, face buried between my breasts.
“There’s something I want to tell you,” he murmured as my breathing finally slowed. Somehow, he managed to pull himself up, then me, levering me onto his lap and dragging the blanket over us as the cool night had me shivering.
Tipping my head, I looked into his eyes and somehow managed to smile. “As long as you don’t say anything about leaving, you can say anything you want.”
“No, I’m not leaving. Not if I have anything to say about it.” His eyes held mine. “Tia...I love you.”
&nbs
p; Epilogue
Meric
“Sarge was basically like your dad.”
Looking at her as she knelt over the grave of the man who’d saved me, I said, “Yes. In every way that counted. I didn’t realize it in time to tell him.”
Tia turned her head and gave me that sweet, half-smile that still made my heart clench up. “He knew, Meric. There’s no way he didn’t.”
She rose and reached out, the emerald wedding ring, flanked by diamonds, flashed in the fading rays of the sun.
We’d gotten married four days earlier.
Mac had even been there to give her away. Other than that, and a brief visit at Christmas, I hadn’t seen him in a year, not since the visit I’d made to his house when I went to tell him I was going to Tia.
If you fuck this up, I’ll find another hit man, one just as mean and scary as you are, and I’ll make you regret it.
I didn’t doubt he meant it, but I had no intention of fucking this up.
As promised, I’d turned over a new leaf. It had been almost...simple, really. Walking away from that life had caused no regrets. Living with the rages that still flared up from time to time wasn’t as simple, but Tia was always there and bit by bit, that cold, ugly knot of darkness seemed to fade away a little more all the time.
When the darkness got too bad, I took my camera equipment and disappeared into the mountains.
She understood—she’d even told me so. Sometimes I need to be alone by myself, too, Meric. And I don’t have as much ugly shit in my head as you do. It’s okay.
She murmured Sarge’s full name out loud, calling me back to the present. To her.
“I wish I’d gotten to know him,” she said. But then she frowned. “Or maybe not. You weren’t ready for me then.”
I wanted to tell her I would have been, and it might not have been a lie.
“I sure as hell wasn’t ready for you.” She slanted a look at me, eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Really.”
“Nope,” she said, turning to me and wrapping her arms around my neck. “And I’m okay with that. Not because I’m patient.”
“I never noticed.”
She lifted a brow, dragging her fingers down my side in warning. “You’re getting better at sarcasm.”
“Don’t do that.” I caught her hand before she could do it again. I didn’t mind when she played, but a lifetime of being wary in public wasn’t an easy thing to let go of.
“Spoilsport.” She kissed me then drew away to take my hand. “Are you ready?”
I looked down at Sarge’s resting place once more. I hadn’t been back here since the funeral. When I’d told Tia, she’d insisted we come here before we took our honeymoon. Hawaii, she’d decided, since I had no particular interest. As long as she was there, that was all I needed.
“Yes. I’m glad we came here.”
“Me, too. We’ll come back. Maybe even have a weekend or two in the beautiful old lighthouse.” She smiled again and it was a wider, easier smile. She did it more often now.
So did I, because of her.
She tugged on my hand, but I lingered another moment, staring at the headstone.
“Thank you,” I said, although I had no idea if he was floating around anywhere, capable of hearing. It didn’t matter, either. I had to tell him, here and now, with her at my side.
He’d understand, too.
While Sarge had saved my life, I hadn’t really started living it until Tia.
She wasn’t my second chance—she was the first, the only, the always.
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About
SHILOH WALKER HAS BEEN writing since she was a kid. She fell in love with vampires with the book Bunnicula and has worked her way up to the more...ah...serious works of fiction. Once upon a time she worked as a nurse, but now she writes full time and lives with her family in the Midwest.
She writes romantic suspense and contemporary romance, and urban fantasy under her penname, J.C. Daniels.
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Look for other titles by Shiloh
The McKays
Headed For Trouble
The Trouble With Temptation
The Right Kind of Trouble
The Barnes Brothers
Wrecked
Razed
Busted
Ruined
Contemporary Standalone Titles
Beg Me
Tempt Me
Beautiful Scars
A Forever Kind of Love
Playing for Keeps
No Longer Mine
You Own Me
Her Best Friend’s Lover
The Ash Trilogy
If You Hear Her
If You See Her
If You Know Her
The Secrets & Shadows Series
Burn For Me
Break For Me
Long For Me
Deeper Than Need
Sweeter Than Sin
Darker Than Desire
The FBI Psychics
The Missing
The Departed
The Reunited
The Protected
The Unwanted
The Innocent
The Doubted
And more
Wrecked
IN THE NINETIES, ABIGALE Applegate and Zach Barnes were the most beloved sitcom child stars in the world. Then they grew up and left Hollywood behind...
Whatever happened to Abigale Applegate?
She’s been wondering the same thing.
With her Hollywood dreams long gone, Abigale now has a nice, neat, uncomplicated life—until the day her perfect fiancé needs to talk. Dumped, a little more than shattered, and totally confused, Abigale turns to Zach, her best friend since forever, to help her pick up the pieces. He does it with a gift—a copy of Wreck This Journal. She can vent her frustrations, and sketch out a new plan. Zach just hopes he’s part of it. Because he’s been in love with Abigale his entire life.
When the journal falls into Zach’s hands, he discovers Abigale wants a new man. And fast. Nothing more than a hot distraction. Zach has a strategy, too. He’s going to be that man. It’s his last chance. Abigale might be out to shake up her life, but Zach's out to reinvent it. Now, all he has to do is convince Abigale that life can go as planned.
Read on for an excerpt from
Wrecked
the first book in Shiloh’s Barnes Brothers series
“HEY, ZACH.”
She glanced down and he followed her gaze, saw that she had the journal he’d picked up for her. “Did you bring that here to beat me up with it or something?”
She laughed. “Well, there is something about an unexpected action...” Then she shrugged. “Nah. I actually figured out a plan. It’s a weird one, but I’m here to ask you to help me do one of the things on the list.”
“Okay...” He hooked his thumbs in his pockets and waited.
“I want a tattoo.”
Zach closed his eyes. Reaching up, he rubbed his right ear and then said, “You want what?”
“A tattoo.” She wiggled the book. “I wrote it down and everything. I did it last night and I’ve thought about it all day and I’m sure I want to do it, so stop looking at me like I’ve lost my mind, okay?”
“You wrote a plan that includes getting a tattoo,” he said slowly. His mind was churning at the very idea of it and his blood was boiling. Putting his hands on her...focus on the issue at hand, Barnes! “And you want me to do it.”
“Well...” She grinned at him and the dimple in her chin winked at him. “The tattoo part is in the plan. And who else would I ask? You’re my best friend, right?”
He pressed the heel of his hand to his eye. “You sure about this, sugar?”
&nb
sp; “Yes.” She tapped the book against her leg, looking around. “Ah...does that mean you’ll do it?”
“Like I’d let anybody else,” he muttered. “Do you know what you want?”
She shrugged. “I hadn’t really thought it through that far. I was kind of thinking you could help me figure it out.”
He shoved a hand through his hair and glanced around. The parlor was empty. “When did you want to do this?” He could take some time to think up some designs for her. Take some time to get a grip and—
“Now.”
So much for taking time to get a grip.
“Okay.”
Bent over the table, she watched as he sketched out another image. Keelie had left, locking up the front door and lowering the blinds. Zach seemed completely focused on the task at hand. “You got any idea where you want to put this?” he asked.
“Ah...well, I was thinking that I’d rather have one that doesn’t really show. It’s for me, not anybody else.” She scooted back from the desk and went over to the design wall, studying some of the pictures. The back of her shoulder seemed innocuous enough, but this was something she was doing for herself. Not to show off and she wanted it personal. Completely personal. She saw one woman’s picture—the woman was pretty damn clearly showing off—she was sexy as hell, Abigale had to admit, but did she really have to have her jeans open like that?
Although one thing was clear. She wasn’t about to have him doing it on her hip like that. She’d have to all but pull up her skirt. Considering the way she was having trouble thinking clearly around him just now...? Yeah. Not happening. “I guess my lower back.”
Glancing down at her skirt, she frowned and turned around to find Zach staring at her. His gaze dropped back down to the sketchbook in front of him. “Will this skirt work okay for this?”
“Yeah. You’re fine. You wanna take a look at any of these?”
She crossed the floor to study the designs and frowned. They all looked so...simple.
“What’s wrong?”
“Well...they’re pretty, but...” She glanced at the vivid color on his arms, the intricate detail and then back at the sketches. “Aren’t they kind of plain?”
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