by LK Collins
Copyright © 2015 by LK Collins
Kindle Edition
Cover Design by Prezident Collins
Edited by Lisa Christman, Adept Edits
Formatting by Paul Salvette, BB eBooks
Photography by FXQuadro
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.
“Take each breath as though it could be your last.”
– LK Collins
Title Page
Copyright Page
Epigraph
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Acknowledgements
Follow LK Collins
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For my readers, this one is for you. Thank you for all of the years of support.
“To Krane and Zoë,” Logan says holding his beer high in the air. The room echoes in cheers and I raise my drink. He hops off the stage, letting the band get back to playing as Zoë breathes softly on my neck. The small gesture from her makes me horny as fuck. “I want you,” she whispers, immediately filling my mind with images of fucking her.
Looking into her gorgeous eyes, I want her too. “I know,” I respond, teasing her, and it makes her shake her head at me.
“You know, if you want to survive this engagement, you better start taking care of me.”
She’s joking, but the insinuation that I don’t take care of her sets me off. She is my world and the only woman that I’ve ever loved. Swooping her tiny ass off of the ground, I toss her over my shoulder to “take care” of her, regardless if we’re in a New York City bar or not. She screams, “Put me down, baby,” and hits my back. No one seems to notice us, as the crowd is engrossed in the band that I’m sure Logan spent a ton of money on to play for us tonight – his parents are loaded and he definitely takes advantage.
“Oh, I’ll put you down in just a minute.” I slap her ass, kicking open the bathroom door. The single stall is open and there is just one guy in here. All I have to do is give him that look, that one that says get the fuck out of here or I’ll rip your head off and he scatters.
I set Zoë down and she wobbles a little, running her fingers through her fucking hair, knowing what that does to me. “Don’t do that.”
“Why?” she asks, resting her hands back on one of the sinks.
“You know why.”
She smiles and gestures me to her with one finger. We are both drunk – the connection we share is like nothing else, combine it with liquor and we are combustible. Looking into her eyes makes everything in my world complete. Knotting my fingers into the back of her hair, I press my lips to hers; she tastes like Patrón and Zoë, the perfect fucking combination.
She moans, wrapping her legs around me and runs her hands up my back, sending a shiver right to my cock. Dropping my hands, I grip her thighs and carry her to the door. Knowing that there’s no lock on it, I’ll have to fuck her right here to keep it shut. If it was anyone else but Zoë, I wouldn’t give two shits if they saw us fuck.
Her tongue caresses mine, never letting up. My cock is so hard that it hurts. Pushing myself against her, I groan, needing to be inside her. “Let me down,” she asks, needing it just as much as I do.
“Keep your back against the door,” I tell her, pulling her tank top down and exposing her hard pink nipples. My mouth moves to them and I suck hard, flicking my tongue back and forth on one of my favorite parts of her body. She slides her jeans down her legs and then fumbles with mine. The tip of my dick is numb from straining against the rough fabric, throbbing for her.
Finally she sets my cock free and I let out a deep puff of air, looking down at her hand as she strokes my shaft. The sensation is one of the things I live for. Reaching down, I grab her wrist, along with her other one, pulling her arms above her head. She nudges her hips forward with her legs spread apart. I watch her begging me in her soft sexy voice, “Please fuck me.” Still holding both of her hands with one of mine, I grip my cock with the other and nudge myself against her.
Fuck, she’s wet.
Rubbing myself on her clit, she moans and rocks her hips even more. I love to play with her…to tease her. Especially when she’s this turned on.
“Take back what you said.”
“What do you mean?” she asks, breathless and confused.
“About me needing to start taking care of you.”
“I take it back. You know I was joking, baby.”
With a triumphant smirk on my face, I let go of her hands and lift her up again, knowing that I am too tall to fuck her while standing. She attaches to me and we both look down at my swollen dick as I gently nuzzle my way deep inside of her. Then locking eyes with her, everything in this moment freezes. She’s panting as I begin to stroke myself inside of her and this makes me pick up my pace. The noise of her ass hitting the door echoes throughout the room.
Christ, her pussy is my heaven.
The door nudges a little and I press her into it, digging myself a little further into her cunt. “Occupied,” I growl.
“Sorry,” the person on the other side says. Zoë hangs on to my neck and I stroke myself inside of her, feeling her warmth and tightness. Loving what her body does to mine. Pressing my lips to her neck, I suck hard, feeling my cum brew.
“Fuck, baby,” she cries, and I pull away. Her skin is flushed and her eyes are closed. My balls tighten as she clamps her pussy down around me and I watch her fall from this world. Holding on to my orgasm for as long as possible, I watch her. Fuck, she is so gorgeous, the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen. She writhes and shakes against me as I shove myself into her as deep as I can.
Then…it hits me. I groan, pumping my cock ’til my cum shoots deep inside her. Gradually, I slow my movements and rest my forehead against hers.
“I love you, baby,” I tell her, easing my way out of my favorite place.
“I love you,” she responds and grabs a paper towel, cleaning herself off. I wrestle my dick back into my pants, holding the door closed. Watching her, I know that I could come a few more times, but that’ll have to wait until we are home.
“Ready?” I ask, holding my hand out to her as she zips her pants.
“Yup,” she says and grins at me walking out of the restroom. Intertwining my fingers with hers, I stop at the bar and get us two more beers. We both turn and look at the huge crowd of our closest friends.
“You know our engagement dinner with both sides of our family isn’t gonna be this fun,” she says.
“We’ll make the best of it and have fun, like we always do, babe. Your mom will be drunk, so we’ll be right there along with her.”
Taking a swig of the beer the bartender hands me, I can’t help but get lost in her beauty.
She takes a quick drink of her beer as I take her hand and lead her to the dance floor to dance with our friends and party the night away.
Ten beers, seven shots, and something else I can’t remember later, it’s time to leave. Everyone else is gone and Zoë is almost asleep in my arms.
“Let’s go, you party animal.”
She looks up at me with her hair in her face and all I can see are her teeth. I can’t help but laugh – oh, she’s going to be hurting tomorrow. Wrapping my arm around her, we stumble out into the cool spring night. The subway station is just a block away and after a fifteen-minute ride, we’ll be home.
“You good?” I ask Zoë as we make the short walk.
“Uh huh,” she responds, keeping up with me. The city is still buzzing; I swear New York never sleeps, and that’s why I love it here. Entering the stairs for the subway, we begin to walk down and Zoë wobbles.
“Hold on to me, okay?” I prop her up as we make our way to the bottom.
“Mm hmm,” she hums as her chin slumps toward her chest.
Waiting on the platform, there isn’t anyone down here, except for a bum sleeping on a bench. The train pulls up and we enter the empty car.
Zoë flops down in a seat, her head still hanging low and I wonder if she’s sleeping already. Sitting next to her, I wrap an arm around her and she nuzzles to me.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Yeah. Baby?” she asks.
“Uh huh.”
“Can we go to Long Beach tomorrow?”
“Sure,” I respond, knowing she’s not going to want to do anything but sleep all day, but being a smart man, I play along.
“I mean it.”
“I know you do.”
The subway zooms down the tracks rocking us back and forth a little, and I rest my head against hers. Zoning out on the orange and yellow seats across from us. Then, the alcohol sets in and my eyes close. My mind drifting back to fucking her in the bathroom.
Suddenly, my daydream is cut short. Zoë shakes violently in my hold.
“Baby,” I yell holding on to her.
She doesn’t respond, her eyes are rolled back in her head, and I know I have to do something. She has had seizures before, but not for a long time and never with me. I know I need to protect her until I can get help at the next stop.
Laying her on the floor of the subway, I cradle her head, her arms and legs flailing. My insides break, burning in pain watching her hurting like this. “Baby, please,” I plead, crying, holding on to her, but she won’t stop and I don’t know what else to do. White foam pools out the sides of her mouth, followed by blood, and I fear she’s bit her tongue.
“Zoë!” I scream, freaking out, watching her like this, so…helpless.
Finally her body starts to slow and my heart skips a beat. “Zoë, oh, baby,” I weep, wiping my eyes so I can see her clearly and move around her. As I hover above her, she is still twitching a tiny bit and I wait for her to come to, cradling her head in my hands.
“Wake up,” I whisper, resting my forehead against hers just wanting her body to calm. The announcement for the next stop goes off, so it’s not long until I can get her off of here. My chest heaves watching her ragged breaths. She’s struggling. “Baby, please hang in there,” I whisper, looking at her as the train starts to slow.
Then her body settles and everything about her calms.
Thank God!
She’s going to be okay! She has to be. I count her breaths, waiting for her to come back to me. One…two…three…and then…nothing. I panic looking into her eyes – they are slightly open and glazed over. She is staring off, not looking at me. “No, Zoë!” I scream, shaking her by the shoulders. “You can’t leave me!”
The train stops at the next station, and I scream for help when the doors open, even though I know it’s too late. Looking down at her body, I knot my fingers into my hair, horrified. Her chest is still.
Tears cloud my vision as I lift her in my arms. Holding her lifeless body close to mine, I sit – crying – reeling in the agony of facing my greatest nightmare.
Everything around me spins.
Jesus, this cannot be real.
I sob into her neck, smelling her, my Zoë, my world, my everything…for one last time.
Closing my eyes, I sit on the sand of Long Beach after another hellish run and breathe in the fresh sea air. My chest feels heavy, and I wish the pain from the run would erase my mind, but it doesn’t.
I live in a constant hell.
The painstaking reality of my life is plagued with the images of Zoë dying in front of me. In my arms. I do my best to push those fucked up thoughts away and concentrate on what we had. That is if I can keep focused for long enough. Sometimes I can, and when that happens I can still smell her and picture her face – eyes – body – laugh, everything about her is at my fingertips, so close, but not close enough to reach. Even with the illusions that I hold on to, it’s not enough. She’s not here with me any longer.
I don’t want to come to terms with the fact that I’ll never see her again or touch her soft skin, but I have to, because she is truly gone. As fucked up as I am…I know what’s real and what isn’t. I will never feel her touch or her lips or look into her eyes. So for now, this is all that I have left, and it brings me as close to her as possible.
She might have unexpectedly left this world five months ago, but it still feels like yesterday in my head. The wound is fresh and burns me every minute of every day. The pain of losing her is like nothing that I’ve ever experienced. Every breath is brutal, my life really has zero purpose now, and it’s hard to find a point to opening my eyes when I wake up each day. Everyone says with time things will get better, but I don’t fucking buy that shit…it won’t.
Listening to the sound of the waves as they crash against the shore, I wonder why God didn’t take me, why her? There was no reason for it to be her time. The fucking doctors tell me that she died of SUDEP, Sudden Unexpected Death in Epilepsy, which in my mind is complete bullshit and confusing…maybe they think if they put a fucking acronym on it then it counts as an explanation. But it just means they don’t know shit.
My phone rings and it pains me to open my eyes – I attribute that to exhaustion and the tequila that’s still running through my veins from last night. Looking down at it through my dark shades, it’s my mom, my overbearing and controlling mother. I know better than to blow her off; she’ll just come find me if I do.
“Hey, Mom.”
“How’s the beach?” she asks, knowing that every morning I come here. I have since I lost Zoë, not able to bring myself to stop. I made her a promise before she died to bring her here and for that reason, this is where I feel the most connected to her.
“It’s nice, Mom.” There’s an underlying aggravation to my tone. I really don’t want to deal with her right now.
“Good, well, I just wanted to remind you of your sister’s wedding and that you need to—”
“I know, Mom.”
“Well, if you knew, you’d have gotten measured for your tux. Your dad’s going now. If you wanna meet him, he can pay for it.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“I love you, Krane.”
“You too.” I hang up and lie back on the sand, closing my eyes.
Even though Zoë is gone, the connection that I feel to her here is so strong. I don’t want to leave, I never do, but knowing my dad, he’ll be pissed if I’m late. I get up and grab my towel, looking out at the vast horizon and the never-ending ocean.
Until tomorrow, beautiful.
Getting into my truck, I make the trip from Long Beach ba
ck to Oceanside, the town Zoë and I are from. I moved back here after I lost her. I couldn’t bear to go back to our apartment in the city with all of her things in it…it was just too much. So I rented a small apartment and left everything as it was. Call me a coward, or whatever you want, but losing her has fucked me up in all sorts of ways.
Pulling onto the causeway to cross back over to the main land, a red sports car cuts me off. I slam on my horn and yell, “What the fuck, asshole?”
The short, bald driver throws a middle finger in the air and speeds off.
Fucking prick!
My blood boils; I want to follow him, to wring his fucking neck to take out some of the pent up aggression. I catch his dumb as fuck plate that reads FA5T. I put the pedal down as a text comes through my phone from Ivy, Zoë’s sister. She’s struggling just as badly as I am. Right away, I let up on the gas and read her words.
Do you have Zoë’s iPod?
My world spins thinking of Zoë and her love for music. Glancing down at the old school, huge iPod that is plugged into my stereo, of course I have it.
Getting over the causeway, I come to a light and text her, Yeah, I do. Why?
I continue on my way to meet my dad, waiting for Ivy, but she doesn’t respond. Pulling up to the tailor’s, I wish I had a bottle with me, so I could take a quick slam. I see my dad through the window dressed like he’s already going to a fucking wedding. I spray myself with some Axe body spray and hope it masks the scent of last night’s bender and my sweat from the beach.
Getting out, I run my hands over my hair in an attempt to tame it, but it’s useless. My reflection in the glass door shows just how shitty I look. My clothes look like hell from picking them off of the floor after stumbling out of bed.
Proceeding inside, my dad turns to look at me, the disappointment is written all over his face. He and my mom don’t understand why I am this way, but I really don’t give a shit; they don’t need to. They aren’t me and don’t have to live with the memories I do.
“Hey, Dad,” I say, leaning in and hugging him.
“Son,” he responds and pats my back. We pull away and I lift my sunglasses, the light from the inside of the store hurts my retinas, like a knife cutting through them. “Jesus Christ, Krane, you look horrible,” he scolds me.
