She looks at me expectantly.
“Seriously?” I don’t bother keeping my voice low now. “You’re the one who woke him up.”
She sticks her chin out obstinately. “But I won the bet. You said if I could be quiet that you’d get him next time.”
“But you weren’t quiet. You laughed.”
“That didn’t count. We were done. You only said I had to come quietly.” She’s so fucking adorable when she’s feisty. If we continue this battle a second longer, I’ll be ready for round two. And I don’t think Jake will let us get away with that.
“Fine. I’ll get him.” I huff as I get to my feet. As I pull on my boxer briefs, I playfully glare in her direction. “See? I knew you cheated somehow.”
Her victorious expression makes me want to drag her off the bed and pound into her from behind, show her who’s boss. I hurry out of the room before temptation overtakes me.
The nightlight is on in the nursery, but I switch on the floor lamp too as I walk in. Jake lifts up his head, and when he sees me, his crying ceases and he smiles.
“Jacob Benjamin Bruzzo, what are you doing awake?” We’ve broken him of night feedings for the most part, and I know if we want to keep him on a decent sleep schedule I should roll him to his back—the position he prefers—give him his pacifier, and leave him again.
But I’m a pushover for those big blue eyes and that toothless smile. I pick him up and rock from one foot to the other. It’s an automatic movement now. Whenever he’s in my arms, I start to sway.
“So how long do you think it will be before Mommy’s in here too?” I ask. “Because we both know it’s just a matter of time.”
Jake finds his thumb and settles against my shoulder. This child, I think as I often do, is the sunshine of my life. There was so much darkness before him, and while Gwen lifted me out of the nothingness and grounded me, Jake was the one who brought the light.
It’s hard to believe he’s already been in my world for six months. His birth was relatively easy, though Gwen likes to remind me that I’m not allowed to say that until I shove an eight-pound baby out of my body, so I only say it when she’s not around. But she can’t deny that her labor was fast, and she only had to push twice before he slid out, head first into the doctor’s waiting arms.
He’s been an easy baby too. Always happy. A dream child. We’re already trying for another one, or rather, we’re leaving it up to fate, which basically means we don’t use birth control and have sex regularly. It’s a method that I like very much.
I hear her footsteps padding on the floor behind me before I see her. She’s so predictable when it comes to Jake. She told me once she was afraid being a father would soften me, but it’s her that’s softened. Her tough exterior disappears almost completely when she’s around him, and the glow that she had during her pregnancy returns.
I turn to her. “What’s the point of me getting him if you’re going to just come in here as well?”
She gives me a guilty smile as she tightens the belt of her robe. “I just thought I’d see if you needed any help.”
“Told you she’d be here,” I whisper to Jake, who’s already half-asleep again.
“You’re not supposed to pick him up,” she scolds. But she and I both know she would have as well. “Give him to me.”
“He’s already sleeping. We should put him down and go back to what we were doing.” I waggle my brows suggestively.
“Nah, I’m good,” she teases, taking the baby from my arms. “I need Jake cuddles now.”
I watch her as she carries him to the rocking chair, her expression content in a way that even the best orgasm can’t achieve. She hums a lullaby, soft and low, as she rocks him gently back and forth.
She’s incredible. She doesn’t even realize how incredible, which is half her beauty. In the year since I married her, there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about how I almost fucked it all up. How I almost walked away because I was convinced it was the right thing to do. I’ve made a lot of dumbass choices in my life, but that was by far the worst. I couldn’t even blame it on alcohol or an impulse because I thought it out. I planned it. To think what my life would be like without her…
God, I was such a fucking idiot. I’m lucky she took me back. And in case I ever forget it, she makes sure to remind me. Often.
When I’ve tried to reason through my thinking back then, there’s one thought I keep returning to—fear. I was afraid to lose her. It’s as simple as that. And while I want to say that I was acting selflessly, letting go of her so that she’d be safer, that’s only half of the truth. The other half is that I wasn’t sure which would be safer for her—to leave her or to bring her with me—but I did know that I couldn’t watch her get hurt. I couldn’t stand by and watch her take a bullet. Couldn’t stand over her body as it lay in a pool of blood.
It’s my worst nightmare. It doesn’t come often, but occasionally I wake, my heart pounding, in a cold sweat. The dream is always the same—it’s all the details of Corinne’s murder, but when I stand over the body, it’s not Cori’s face I see but Gwen’s. Just the thought of it kills me in ways that Cori’s death never did.
Not to make light of Cori’s murder. It destroyed me. It took away any meaning I had and left me vacant. It was the worst thing that ever happened to me, but maybe, as painful as it is to say, maybe it actually wasn’t the worst thing. Because if Cori had never died, I wouldn’t have found Gwen, and she’s the best thing that’s ever happened. It feels like the shittiest price to pay to get my dream ending, and I mollify myself by remembering that it wasn’t a price I would have ever chosen. I really did love Cori. She made my life brighter and more vivid.
But Gwen…Gwen is my life.
She looks up at me now, her eyes heavy. “Good thing I don’t work tomorrow.” She’s gone down to part-time at the club. The Sky Launch added lunchtime hours for their restaurant service and Gwen manages it Monday through Friday, ten to three. Sometimes I think she misses the night hours, and I wouldn’t be surprised if eventually she went back to that, after the kids are older.
I’d support her if she wanted to do it now. We could hire another nanny or I’d volunteer to be the stay-at-home-dad type. Whatever she needs to be happy, I’m on board.
Since she brought it up, I take the opportunity to check in. “Would you rather be working full-time again?”
“No,” she scoffs. “Why on earth would I want to do that?”
I shrug. “Just making sure you have everything you want in life.”
“Well, I have this guy.” She kisses Jake on his bald head. “And I have you, don’t I?”
As if she has to ask. “I’m yours,” I say.
She smiles and throws one of my old phrases back at me. “Then I have everything.”
The Fixed Universe continues with…
Chandler
The first time I fell in love ended with a wedding. Unfortunately it wasn’t mine. It’s not like I spent the next five years pining, but it was enough of a blow to decide the emotion was overrated. So I banished it from my repertoire.
Who wants love, anyway, when there’s sex? I’m good at sex. Very good. I can charm the skirt off any woman in one encounter. I’ll even give her an orgasm before I put her in a cab. No more than that, though, or she’ll start making plans for the future and I’m not into that.
Or I wasn’t until Genevive Fasbender. She’s the first woman in five years that I want to spend the whole night with. And she’s the first woman who’s told me I’m not what she wants in a lover, even after multiple O’s. She says she’s looking for dark and dominant and dangerous. Not the guy I am at all.
But I want to be that guy.
Maybe it’s time for a change.
Coming April 5, 2016. Preorder Now.
Also coming soon…
Falling Under You
A Fixed Trilogy Novella (1001 Dark Nights)
Norma and Boyd’s story is told in this steamy spinoff.<
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Coming May 10, 2016 Preorder Now.
Coming December 22, 2015 from Laurelin Paige, the first book in a two-part series:
First Touch
Order now to get the $3.99 introductory price.
Early praise for First Touch:
“Edgy sex and pulsating mystery make this fast paced and sensual story impossible to put down.” Jay Crownover, New York Times bestselling author of The Marked Men series
“Laurelin creates a romance that comes in many touches…Each chapter leads you deeper into mystery, twisting what you knew, making you love who you’re meant to hate. A fascinating read!” Pepper Winters, New York Times bestselling author
“Dark, intense, and incredibly sexy, First Touch kept me on the edge of my seat from page one up to the very last word.” Shameless Book Club Blog
“Gritty, edgy, dark and compelling, First Touch pulls no punches and just might leave you reeling.” Megan Hart, New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of Tear You Apart
“First Touch is her best work to date... it smolders, captivates, & rips you to pieces... we’re obsessed!” Rock Stars of Romance Blog
“This spellbinding story will have you glued to the pages from the first page to the last. Paige’s best work yet. Thrilling, captivating, sexy, and shocking. I am in love with this story.” Claire Contreras, New York Times bestselling author of Kaleidoscope Hearts
“First Touch is shocking, stunning, and intense with a heat level that can only be measured on the Kelvin scale.” CD Reiss, USA Today bestselling author of Shutter Girl
“First Touch…will leave you on pins and needles, breathless and begging for more. Laurelin Paige has delivered her finest work yet.” Jen McCoy, Literary Gossip Book Blog
“A beautifully executed maze of suspense, seduction, and ridiculously hot sex.” Alessandra Torres, New York Times Bestselling Author
“A dazzling mystery to unravel ... wicked and yet sensual. Decadent in her ability to weave a captivating story from beginning to end, Laurelin Paige has another hit on her hands.” Kendall Ryan, New York Times Bestselling Author
“First Touch is a heart chilling page-turner from a master storyteller – and the hottest thing I’ve read this year, hands down.” M. Pierce, bestselling author of the Night Owl Trilogy
“Laurelin Paige writes an addictive mix of emotion and sexy that draws the reader in and doesn’t let go until long after the last page is read.” K. Bromberg, New York Times bestselling author of the Driven Series
“First Touch is a deliciously dark and sinfully sexy story that had me up way past bedtime. Laurel in Paige knows exactly what a woman craves, and I’m craving more Reeve.” Gennifer Albin, New York Times bestselling author
Turn the page to enjoy an excerpt of First Touch now...
PROLOGUE
When I heard the message she left, it had been more than six years since I’d spoken to Amber. Hearing her voice on my mother’s old answering machine shocked me. It wasn’t that we’d parted on bad terms, necessarily, but they were final terms. We were on different sides for the first time in our friendship. The only way past it was to separate.
The last words she’d spoken to me in person played in my mind so frequently it was as though they’d been scratched into the audio portion of my brain with professional recording equipment. They reverberated clear and crisp: “I’m sure someday’s gotta happen for us all one day. But it doesn’t mean mine’s happening at the same time as yours.”
So I left her to live my someday while she took off for Mexico on the yacht of the latest sugar daddy to buy her a designer bikini stuffed with hundreds that she’d later let him stuff with his pathetic excuse of a cock.
In our time apart, I’d grown up completely, reinvented myself, put the past behind me, yet her voice on the machine sounded as bright and young as it had when we were twenty-three. It instantly triggered a longing and regret that I hadn’t let myself feel since we’d said goodbye.
“Emily.” Her bubbly tone spilled into my ear. “It’s been ages, I know. But I’ve been thinking about you. God, I’m not even sure if this is still your number.” She paused for only half a second, the space of a sigh or maybe taking a moment to reconsider. “Anyway, I wanted to ask—do you still have that blue raincoat? Miss you. Bye.”
She’d said nothing really. Her voice hadn’t cracked or stumbled or betrayed emotion of any kind. But I knew one thing with clear-cut certainty: Amber was in trouble and she needed my help.
Chapter One
Even with my head below the surface of the water, I felt his arrival. My arms continued moving in fluid strokes, my legs kicking out behind me, but as drops of water trickled down my exposed skin, it itched with the awareness of no longer being alone.
I kept swimming—kept heading toward the end of the pool. The words I used to push me on in high school swimming competitions automatically repeated in my head: This arm then that arm then this arm then that arm. Now though, in the spaces between each beat, I thought her name—This arm, Amber, then that arm, Amber, then this arm, Amber, then that arm, Amber.
When I’d reached the concrete wall, I flipped and did another lap. I wouldn’t let on that I knew he was there. I needed to control this situation, and for some reason, denying his presence made me feel like I’d gained another measure or so. Focusing on Amber, remembering she was the reason for what I was doing, made concentrating easier. At first, anyway. Until I began to tire and the awareness of his nearness began to win the tug-of-war with my attention.
I forced myself to complete three more laps, the anticipation of finally being near him, talking to him, bubbling up inside me like a butterfly waiting to escape its cocoon. I had my reasons for not acknowledging him—but what were his reasons for ignoring me? What if it wasn’t even him, but one of his security men? No, anyone else would have kicked me out already for sure. Then why had he let me continue my swim?
Soon the wings of curiosity fluttered and scratched with such distraction that I could no longer resist the urge to poke my head out.
At least I managed to complete my lap.
Then, after wiping the water from my eyes, I started to look around.
I’d expected him to be sitting to my side at the head of the pool so I was truly surprised when I spotted him in the lounge chair directly in front of me. His face was chiseled and serious underneath near-black hair. Metallic sunglasses paired with a layer of scruff made him appear both more laid back and more dangerous than the pictures I’d seen on the Internet. Even dressed in a standard hotel variety plain white robe, he was intimidating. His feet were bare and crossed at the ankles. His elbow was propped on the chair arm, and his thumb and index finger framed the side of his face as he without a doubt bore right into me with his gaze behind designer eyewear.
My heart flipped. He was infamous, famous, and if the rumors were to be believed, dangerous—a multibillionaire luxury resort owner and legendary bad boy. But my reaction wasn’t fear; it was excitement. Not because he was ten times sexier in person—though he was—but because he was here.
Reeve Sallis.
Sitting mere yards from me. After all the work I’d done to make it happen, here he was. Step one. Success.
“Oh!” I weaved the thrill I felt into my lines hoping it passed as simple alarm. “I didn’t realize I wasn’t alone.” An innocent smile curled my lip with a few flirty blinks. It was a look that had bought me quite a few drinks along with a fur coat and a nice piece of jewelry or two. But that was years ago. I was rusty, and I prayed under my breath that he didn’t notice.
His stare had a texture I could feel on my skin. “And I did realize I wasn’t alone when I very much should be. I imagine it’s a similar feeling of astonishment.”
I swallowed. “Yes, probably so.”
“I’ll help you out.” He stood, swiftly. In two steps he was at the side of the pool, leaning down to offer his hand.
My gut told me that the smart thing to do would be to get out
of the pool. I was trespassing on the property of a very powerful man.
But my heart told me I couldn’t give up so easily. So I ignored the tightening in my stomach and stood my ground—or, rather, tread my water—and said, “No, thank you. I still have a few more laps to do.”
His lip curled up into a half-smile. “You don’t. You’re done.” Again he reached his hand toward me.
Ignoring his offer, I broadened my smile and turned up the charm. “Ah, you’re one of those kinds of men.”
He let his hand fall and tilted his head questioningly. “Which kind is that?”
Behind his lenses, I felt the command of his stare and even in his crouched position, he held himself with utter confidence. My eyes chased the broad muscles in his neck that disappeared under his robe. They, along with his entire demeanor, demanded my respect or, more likely, my capitulation.
Yeah, I knew his type. “The kind who gets what he wants when he wants it.”
“Well. Yes.” He chuckled as he, yet again, extended his hand out for me.
I was tempted to swim another lap. But I didn’t have enough sense about him yet to know if that would piss him off or intrigue him. So I said, “I got it,” and refused his hand, pulling myself up over the side on my own. I did know it was too early for physical contact. My exit of the pool was on his terms but our first touch would be on mine.
“Oh, you’re one of those kinds of women.” He stood with me and handed me a towel with sallis embroidered along the edge in gold.
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