by Tessa Layne
I drop to my knees with a cry, pain knifing through me, searing like a lightning bolt. The rawness of it calls up a long-buried memory. Of when I learned my mother would never recover from the beating my father delivered. That I would never hear her laughter, or feel her hand on my cheek, or see the pride in her eyes when she looked at me. Gone forever, doomed to live in a shell of a body. And me, only sixteen with no means to care for her. How much worse to learn the sister you loved, the daughter of your heart, would never come home?
I hate that I was collateral damage. But I understand. And I would like to personally be in the cell with Vince so that I can rip his balls off one at a time, not that it would in any way, shape, or form pay for the harm he’s inflicted on so many young women. In time, my anger will fade. My hurt will heal.
Because I love Roxi.
And the thought of her not in my life hurts far worse than the pain she’s caused. And fuck — I let her go. I let her walk the fuck out of my house thinking she was walking out of my life for good. The realization pulls me to my feet. What if she planned to leave today? Drive home in time for dinner? If she left now, she’d be in Chicagoland by dinner. I tear out of the penthouse and take the stairs two at a time — there’s no time to wait for the elevator. My legs are burning when I push out the exit and stumble onto the sidewalk. There’s only one place she could be if she’s still in town. I jog to the car, and too late, realize the fob is still in the entryway upstairs. “Happy Fucking New Year,” I mutter as I break into a sprint. I better earn extra brownie points from Sparky for this tomorrow.
The house on the West Side is a little over a mile away, and I push myself, picking up the pace. I make it to her front steps in less than ten minutes, and I’ve never been so relieved to see her car in the drive. My relief dissipates when I spy the for sale sign in the pocket yard. Fuck. She really means to leave town. I march over to the sign and yank it from the ground. This is my John Cusack moment. If I had a boom box, I’d raise it high. And since the grocer is still closed at this hour, eliminating the possibility of flowers, the sign’s the best I can do. I leap up the steps, offering a silent prayer that she’s here. I bang on the screen door. “Roxi. You there?”
Ten seconds tick by.
Then twenty.
I bang again. “Roxi?”
The door cracks open.
“Roxi?”
Then it swings wide, and Roxi’s there, as beautiful and magnificent as ever, albeit with red-rimmed eyes. Her eyes go wide as her face registers surprise, then confusion.
I hold up the sign before she has the chance to push me away. “Don’t go?”
She cocks her head, brows knitting together.
“This is your house, isn’t it? You weren’t housesitting, were you?”
She looks pained as she nods. “I’m sorry about that, too.”
“That’s not why I’m here. I…” The words tangle up in the back of my throat. The odds of me coming off like a total dumbass are fairly high. I take a deep breath. “I love you Roxanna Jane Reynolds. I want to be in your life. I want you to be in mine. I… please don’t go. Stay?”
Chapter Twenty-Four
My heart pounds in my throat as she stares at me for what feels like eternity. In spite of my best efforts, flutterings of hope stir in my chest. The flutters flame to life when she pushes open the screen with a cry, cups my face and lays a kiss on me.
It’s all her, teasing my mouth open and sliding her tongue against mine. Our mouths mold together like magnets finding home, and I pour all of my inarticulate feelings into the kiss, telling her everything my words fail to describe. She drops her forehead to mine, when we pull apart.
“So… is that a yes?”
“Umm-hmm.”
I step back only far enough to lean the sign against the railing, and back her up to the door so I can kiss her properly. A car honks as it passes.
“Come inside.” She laces her fingers through mine and pulls me through the door, turning to lock it as soon as I’ve crossed the threshold.
“Nice digs,” I say, looking around. The decor is urban modern, but cozier than my place. Homier. A streak of orange flashes by me. I catch a glimpse of a bushy tail before it dives under the couch. “You have a cat?” I say pointing to where I saw the tail. “Or was it a raccoon?”
“That’s Sweetie Pie.” She smirks, waiting for me to respond.
I take the bait. “You named your cat Sweetie Pie?”
She nods. “I was going to call it that all the time, anyway. So why not?”
I flick my eyebrows. “Indeed.”
Silence stretches between the two of us. And we both end up speaking at once.
“Coffee?” she says.
“Where’s your bedroom?” I ask.
She cocks her head, brows furrowed. “What did you say?”
I close the space between us, pulling the hand I still hold to my mouth and kissing each knuckle. “I said,” letting my kisses punctuate the words. “Where is your bedroom? We never got to have make-up sex. I figured now might be as good a time as any to start.”
Her mouth twitches. “Make-up sex.”
I nod. “We could call it ‘let’s get reacquainted sex,’ too. If you like that better,” I add.
“I like sex,” she says, grinning broadly now, hands fluttering at the hem of her shirt.
“Are you fucking with me?” I peel off my jacket.
“Maybe just a little.” I blink, and her shirt has joined my jacket on the floor. Her bra is a pale-yellow lace that perfectly complements her creamy, freckled skin.
“Show me your panties,” I say, voice turning to gravel as a shock of awareness rolls through me. I’ve missed this sensation, the anticipation of untold delight, of sweaty bodies and tangled limbs, of a feast both visual and oral.
“Demanding, aren’t you?”
“It’s been awhile.”
“Indeed,” she shoots back at me with the same tone of voice I used moments before.
My control begins to fray. “Panties off, sweetheart, or I will toss you over my shoulder and take you upstairs where I will personally remove them, and they might not survive.”
Her grin widens and then she bites her lip, eyes sparkling with expectation. “Promise?”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Opening Day
* * *
The excitement is tangible as Roxi and I pull into the owner’s lot at Royal Field in the East Bottoms. The team is coming off three consecutive wins at Spring Training, and two days of feel-good publicity from the annual Pros and Veterans charity game over in Prairie. But I’m excited for half-a-dozen other reasons. Namely the enormous diamond ring that’s burning a hole in my pocket. Oh yeah, and the grand opening of King Tom’s Distillery.
“Stay here.” I jog around the front, open her door, and offer my hand. Roxi’s eyes light up when she sees the vintage brick exterior modeled after Camden Yards. “Dad’s gonna flip when he sees this,” she says with her signature enthusiastic grin.
“Your mom texted and said they’d be here in an hour.” It was Harrison who gave me the idea of proposing on Opening Day. Roxi wasn’t suspicious at all when I rang up her parents about coming down for the game. The conversation wasn’t as awkward as I’d anticipated, given I’ve only met her parents once. But for all the rules we’ve broken, I wanted to do this by the book.
“Why are we here so early again?”
I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her close as we approach the owner’s entrance and flash our credentials. “Harrison wanted all the owners here early to schmooze. And once we’ve walked the field and congratulated the team, Harrison suggested a private celebration at the Distillery before the official ribbon-cutting.”
Roxi leans her head on my shoulder. “So long as I’m with you, I’m game for anything.”
And then it hits me, how I’m going to propose. “So would you make the first round of cocktails?”
She lets out a giggle. “Were you plannin
g that all along?”
“Nope. You should know by now I’m more of a spontaneous guy.”
She looks around. “In that case, is there somewhere we can sneak off for a grand-slam?” she says with a smirk and an eye waggle.
“I think it’s called the seventh-inning stretch.”
“We have to wait that long?” Her lower lip juts out in a pout.
“Patience, grasshopper,” I say giving her ass a pinch. “Thank you for wearing a skirt, by the way. I’ll be sure to slip my hand between your thighs at the first home run.”
“Promise?”
The mood in the owner’s box is lively. Mason Carter’s wife, Luci has laid out a taco bar, and Lisa, wearing Polly in a wrap-around sling, has set up both a Mimosa bar and a Bloody Mary bar. “Watch out for the ghost-pepper infused tequila,” she warns with a wink. Harrison, Stockton, and Owen, Steele Conglomerate’s CFO and another crewmate, are out on the balcony smoking cigars. I leave Roxi briefly to join them.
Harrison claps me on the back. “So glad you’ve joined us.”
“This is our year,” Stockton adds with a gleam in his eye. “I had Felicity run predictive analytics based on Spring Training. I predict we’re on top of the AL Central by the All-Star game.”
“Anyone want to wager on that?” Owen asks with a wink.
“Sorry,” I say with a tiny bit of chagrin. “My betting days are done. Unless we’re betting which one of you assholes is going to be the next to get married.”
Their reactions are priceless. Harrison’s jaw ticks, Stockton looks like he swallowed an ice-cube whole, and Owen is suddenly very interested in the wood grain along the balcony railing. Harrison clears his throat. “Let’s just see how it goes with you. You ready?”
I nod. “I’m all in. As soon as Roxi’s parents arrive we can make our way to the distillery.”
I slip back inside and wrap an arm around Roxi while she’s cuddling Polly. “She looks good in your arms,” I murmur.
The look Roxi gives me is full of heat. “She looks cuter in your arms. Do you want to hold her?”
“I’ll claim her for tickles and tosses a little later. Have your folks arrived?”
“Yes. Mason is giving them the tour, he suggested we meet up at the distillery?
The time passes slower than watching sloth videos on National Geographic. At last, we make our way to the distillery on the center-right field landing. The aroma of fermenting mash tickles my nose. Sweet and faintly sour, it’s a scent that will forever bring a smile to my face. The pot stills are shiny and bright, and the far wall is lined with barrels. In the center are several high-top tables where people can sit or stand and watch the game through the enormous picture windows, or on any of the T.V.s that hang from the ceiling. The bar is set up on the wall facing the barrels, so that even the bartenders have a view of the game. Outside, is a small balcony filled with umbrella tables so people can sit outside and watch the game in the open air. I wish I could say the concept was my own, but this was all the Harrison and Owen.
I pull Roxi behind the bar. “How about a round of Old Fashioneds? For old-time’s sake?”
“Not whiskey, neat?” she teases.
“Second round.”
She sets to work. “Help me with the garnishes?”
“Of course.” I feel for the outline of the ring in my front pocket, nerves getting the best of me. I set to work peeling lemon and orange rind, and stabbing Amarena cherries with toothpicks. We work well together, like we always have, one instinctively offering what the other needs. We line the drinks up on the bar and invite everyone to grab a glass.
I slip the ring onto the toothpick in the glass closest to Roxi, and make a quick search for her dad, who gives a little nod of approval. I raise my glass. “Six months ago, almost to the day, I woke up and went through a very ordinary day. At about ten-minutes before seven that night, winds of change blew into my life in the form of the most beautiful spirit I’ve ever met.” I glance over to Roxi and give her hand a squeeze. “I couldn’t have predicted any of the upheaval that followed. Nor could I predict that not only would I find a partner in life and love, but that in spite of the obstacles thrown at us, our love managed to grow. I hope that’s a sign of good things to-”
“OhmygodwhatisTHAT?” She interrupts my awkward speech with a squeal, staring wide-eyed at her cocktail. “Are you proposing Danny?”
I drop a knee to the rubber mat. “I’m definitely proposing, and yes, dear, that’s a diamond ring in your cocktail.” I take the glass from her shaking hand and remove the ring and hold it out to her. “Roxi Rickoli will you marry me?”
“Only if you get her name right,” hollers her father from the other side of the bar, eliciting a roar of laughter from our friends.
“I don’t care what you call me,” she says, holding out her finger to receive the ring. “The answer’s yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.”
I don’t hear the cheering and clapping as I stand and pull her into my arms, dipping her for a kiss that quickly turns hot. She has my complete attention, like she has from the very beginning. And like she will in the years to come.
THE BEGINNING OF HAPPILY EVER AFTER
I hope you enjoyed reading Danny and Roxi’s story. Are you ready for more sinfully sexy romance? Pre-order PU$$Y MAGNET today. It’s the first book in my new Titans of Tech series. The Titans are bossy, they’re hot and they’ll melt your eReader.
Harrison Steele
* * *
Let’s get one thing straight. I love pu$$y. Effin’. Love. It.
* * *
Call me shallow, call me a perv, call me a cocky bastard, but the reason I know there’s a heaven is because God made women.
* * *
Because no matter who a woman is, a ball-buster in the courtroom or a flower child at an Avitt Brothers concert, I have the keys to their kingdom, and they all want it.
* * *
Until Mariah Sanchez - aka Sparky
* * *
She wants me.
* * *
I can feel it. I can smell it. But for nine months, sixteen days, twelve hours and forty-seven minutes she’s had my “you know what” in irons. Worse, my mouth and my fingers, too. Locked up in an invisible prison of my own making. And because I’m a stupid idiot, the only person I can blame for my predicament is me.
* * *
But that’s about to change…
Order PU$$Y MAGNET now!!
Coming in August
Sin & Tonic Anthology
Including the Pu$$y Magnet prequel…
Bar, pub, speakeasy, tavern, cocktail lounge. What do all these have in common?
* * *
They're places for drinking, places for talking, places for meeting, and in this anthology, they're places to fall in love. Pull up a seat, grab a drink, and enter the worlds of four romance authors for some steamy heroes, strong heroines, and sexy-as-hell sin. Cocktail recipes to seduce your sweetie included!
* * *
Wild Thang- USA Today Bestselling Author, Tessa Layne
When billionaire Mason Carter discovers his longtime crush Luci Cruz has packed her bags and is leaving town forever, he’s got twenty-four hours to convince her to take one last chance on love. Will a wild night at a notorious speakeasy and a trip down memory lane be enough to win her heart?
* * *
All In- USA Today Bestselling Author, Mira Lyn Kelly
There ought to be laws against what happened to that wedding cake, abandoned or not. Sure, it was sexy, good fun of the dirtiest variety but it was the kind of mistake career-minded wedding planner Lanie Malone won’t repeat. At least not until next Saturday when she’s once again face to face with Jason Henley, the bossy, all-trouble hotel owner who won’t settle for just one night.
* * *
French Kiss- R. L. Kenderson
Jake Russo has fought for everything he's earned, and he's not about to give up the bar he’s sweated over to spoiled Lacey Scott. She can kiss his ass and go
back to where she flew in from. But what happens when she kisses him instead? And what if he does a lot more than kiss her back?
* * *
Irish Legend- K.C. Enders
Bartender Finn O'Meara, the self proclaimed Irish Casanova, has met his match. He's planned everything to perfection, and he's got the girl right where he wants her. There's just one little twist - will she come around? Or is he just a legend in his own mind?
Order Sin & Tonic today
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* * *
Find me on Facebook! Come on over to my house- join my ladies only Facebook group - Tessa's House. And hang on to your hat- we might get a little rowdy in there ;)
Also by Tessa Layne
PRAIRIE HEAT
PRAIRIE PASSION
PRAIRIE DESIRE
PRAIRIE STORM
PRAIRIE FIRE
PRAIRIE DEVIL
PRAIRIE FEVER
PRAIRIE REDEMPTION
PRAIRIE BLISS
* * *
A HERO’S HONOR
