“Liam?” Louder this time. He heard footsteps, closed his eyes tight.
She’s here because she feels guilty...but it’s too late to make it up. Just go away...go away...
“Liam, wake up. Talk to me.” Her voice was right in front of him, her hand on his shoulder, her touch gently, but very warm, even though the blanket. He opened his eyes.
She was sitting next to the bed, her face inches from his. For a brief moment his heart swelled; he wanted to reach out and touch her face. But he pushed that away. She’d given up on him; why should he care about her.
“Hi. Welcome back.” There was relief in her voice, a smile on her lips as she brushed her hand across his forehead. Just a game though.
“Go away.” His voice was louder than he anticipated. He closed his eyes.
“Does something hurt? I’ll go get a nurse...” She touched his hand. He jerked it away.
He opened his eyes again. “Why are you here?”
The shocked look on her face gave him a perverse thrill, like he’d won something. “Where else would I be, Liam? I’ve been worried...we all have.”
“Where were you...last night? Where were you during the match?”
He watched as she looked down at her hands. See, didn’t care enough to come...feeling guilty now.
“I’ve been here since they brought you in...the day before yesterday.”
Day before yesterday? Not the morning after the fight?
She looked down at her hands. “The fight...I was late getting there. But I was there...at the end. I saw you get hit...saw you go down.”
Her eyes came up, meeting his. “And it almost killed me, Liam. It could have killed you.”
There was something that sounded like anger in her voice, which surprised him. What the hell did she have to be angry about?
“Liam...I was so scared...” Angela’s voice broke, tears running down her face.
“Hey! You’re awake.” Frank’s gruff voice broke the moment. Angela looked up as Frank entered the room.
Liam tried to roll away from Angela, grimacing with the effort.
“Easy, Liam. You’ve got some cracked ribs there. Just relax. I’ll come around to the other side of the bed.”
Frank pulled a chair up next to Angela.
“So, did Angela tell you the news?” Frank was beaming at Liam, beaming at both of them.
“I haven’t had a chance yet, Frank. He’s only been awake for a few minutes.” She wiped her cheeks with the cuffs of her sweater. Liam noticed her face was pale, dark circles under her eyes. And no make-up.
“Oh...well.” Frank was looking back and forth between Liam and Angela. He frowned.
“I guess...well, Liam, a scout was here, from the pros. Was impressed with what he saw.”
Liam made a snorting sound. “Impressed with me getting knocked out? Pretty lame scout.”
“Hey! Before you went down, you put up a pretty good fight, broken hand and all. He said you had heart. It was short, but there was enough there for him to see your potential. If you hadn’t had your head up your god damn ass...sorry, Angela...you would have done a hell of a lot better.”
Liam was staring at Frank. “So what did he say, exactly?”
“He gave me his card. I’ve got it here somewhere...it’s been a pretty fucked up couple days.” Frank grimaced, nodding in Angela’s direction.
“Sorry again.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, stop apologizing to her. I’m sure she’s heard swearing before.”
Frank’s frown deepened. “Liam, are you okay? Do you need something for pain or anything?”
“Why the hell does everyone keep asking me that? I’m fine...just great.” He struggled to sit up in bed, wincing as he pushed himself upright.
“Everyone needs to just back off. Frank, we can talk later. Angela, nice of you to stop by but I don’t need your pity.”
Angela was crying quietly now, her head down. She stood to leave, but Frank placed a hand on her arm, glaring at Liam.
“Liam! What the hell! I don’t know if this is from pain or whatever the hell they’ve got you on, or the knock on the head or if you’re just in a pissy mood because you can be, but you have no right to talk to Angela like that. She’s the one who’s been here since they brought you in. We had to force her to finally go home to sleep and eat. She’s been camping out down the hall in the lounge or here, in your room.”
Liam stared at Frank, then Angela. “She’s been here...”
“The whole time. She was at the fight, but you were too busy getting knocked out to notice.”
Liam turned to Angela in disbelief. “You were there? Where?”
“I was late, in the crowd...there was traffic. I tried to call...you had your cell turned off. By the time I got there, the match had started. And then...you were down, and he was hitting you. And there was blood everywhere...” Angela burst into tears. Frank awkwardly wrapped one massive arm around her shoulder, jostling her against him.
“But I came there to see you, to stand by you. Because I love you. And when you love someone, your life changes...your priorities change. It took me a long time...probably too long...to realize that.”
When she reached for his hand this time, he let her take it. He was aware of Frank leaving the room.
“It wasn’t about me anymore, Liam. It was about you...what you wanted...needed. What you’ve been fighting for. But now...”Angela took a deep breath, her voice gaining strength.
“You've fought just to survive your entire life. I get that. I finally get it. But I'm not going anywhere, whether you like it or not. It's time that someone stands with you, through all of it. The good, the bad...all of it. And fights for you.”
Liam felt tears gathering in his eyes. As much as he wanted to hold them back, they fell unchecked down his cheeks. He squeezed her hand and she squeezed back, hard.
“You’re really here then? In my corner?” His voice was rough and he didn’t trust it to not waver.
“I always will be. From now on, I’ll never leave your side.” She kissed his fingers, then stood, leaning over, kissing his lips. She ran her fingers over his cheek, brushing away the tears. “I love you, Liam.” She sat back down, resting her head on his leg, watching him.
“I love you too, Angela.” He watched her for a minute, the sun through the window making her hair glow. He thought she’d never looked so beautiful.
“So what do we do now, Angela?”
“We get you better. And then we find that card for the scout and call him.” She sat up. “Then, just like you do with training, we take it day by day, match by match.”
She gave him a brilliant smile, her dimples flashing. “And if you think Frank is tough, just wait. Frank’s got nothing on me.”
Liam laughed. “Come here...” He shifted on the bed, grimacing, making room for Angela. She gingerly climbed up on the bed, curling around Liam, her head resting lightly on his shoulder.
“I’ve missed you, Liam. So much.” He reached up with his good hand, searching for hers. She wrapped her fingers through his, holding them tightly.
When Frank returned, that’s how he found them, asleep, Liam’s hand holding on to Angela’s. He smiled, pulling the door closed behind him.
About the Author: Adriana Hunter
New York Times & USA Today Bestselling author Adriana Hunter has been writing fiction ever since she was old enough to hold a pen. Today, she writes paranormal, new adult and bbw romance with many of them featuring curvy heroines and the gorgeous alpha males who love them.
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Something Borrowed
What do you do when the one man you were meant to be with already belongs to another?
; For Dana Marshall, new wedding planner and curvy single, "always the bridesmaid, never the bride" seems to be the story of her life. But when she is assigned to assist popular wedding planner Vienna Saunders in managing a dream wedding for an important client, nothing can prepare her for the face-to-face encounter with the insanely handsome groom, Benjamin Carter. Sparks fly, and the chemistry between them is undeniable. Except he doesn't belong to Dana. He's off limits, forbidden and if she ever expects to walk away from the job with her heart still intact she needs to play by the rules. Except as far as true love is concerned, rules are meant to be broken.
SEXTING CURVES by Christa Wick
Major Logan Jones opened the front door of his three-bedroom ranch before I landed my first knock. Surprised, I glanced at my watch. "I'm not late, am I?"
The major is very particular about people being on time. After five plus years of babysitting his son Stevie, I still had a clean record. Working a summer job at a downtown office, however, meant that I had been cutting it close all summer long.
"No, I heard you pull up." Taking a step back, he opened the door wider and motioned me inside.
I passed him in the hall, my thick hips and the narrow space conspiring to force the brief rub of my body against his. A familiar heat flared along the surface of my skin. My nipples puckered, the sensation triggering an outbreak of goose bumps and wet need.
Continuing down the hall, I rubbed at my arms, hoping my body would behave before the major noticed his effect on me. Not that he ever has—I've been nursing a crush on him since I started babysitting Stevie over five years ago. He has remained blissfully ignorant even when my body's reaction to him kicked into high gear after Mrs. Jones ran off to parts unknown in search of her "true self."
Ugh...Mrs. Jones.
I'm pretty certain her true self is some kind of dumb ass space alien because Stevie is the cutest little bug I've ever babysat and the major is the sexiest thing on two legs. Logan is tall and lean, with muscles so big it would take both my hands to circle one of his biceps. Add to that intense fuck-me eyes, finely chiseled features accentuated by the military cut of his dark ash brown hair, and a mouth that looks like it could melt an iceberg and my pussy is instantly soaked when he's around. Hell, even when he's wearing his ACUs, he's hot as sin. Pour him into a tight t-shirt and a pair of jeans and I'm ready to pop.
I also love how protective he is. Not just with Stevie, but with everyone he thinks of as his extended family—including me. Since he isn't overbearing, it's a complete turn on knowing he has my back.
Ready to leave, the major interrupted my reverie before I had a chance to drift into a middle-of-the-day, full-on wet dream and embarrass myself.
"I'll be home by midnight." He reached into his pocket, pulled out his cell phone and started tapping at the screen. Half a second later my phone buzzed in my purse. "Just sent you another number to call if you have trouble reaching me. Building I'll be at is a bit of a black hole for signal reception."
"Okay." I watched him move through the front room to retrieve his gear. Another shiver ran across my skin when he bent over to grab his backpack. Seeing that tight ass, I wanted to step behind him, press my hips against it and run my hands up his sides before reaching around front and palming his dick.
"No visitors."
Snapping back to reality a second time, I nodded. It's the same discussion every time. He means "no boys." Like I could possibly be interested in someone else or stupid enough to invite them to the major's home.
"Make sure Stevie is in bed by ten."
"Yes, Major." I wondered how I would make it to ten. Stevie is easy to watch, but looking at Logan had me all worked up. My nipples remained hard as steel ball bearings and my clit had been slowly swelling from the second he opened the door. I already ached to go into the bathroom, lift my skirt and run my fingers over my pussy until I came.
"Logan, not Major, not Mr. Jones. Just Logan." He gave me one of those looks that would be stern if his pale blue gaze didn't glitter like frosted diamonds. "Or I'll go back to calling you Lilliput."
I crinkled my nose at him and faintly nodded but didn't say anything. I couldn't bring myself to call him Logan. I was certain I would make a fool of myself if I did. His name would eventually issue all breathless and shaking, exactly like it does when I'm touching myself. And his threat was no good because I only half mind him calling me Lilliput. It makes me feel special, even if it means he still thinks of me as the seventeen year old he first hired instead of a woman he can legally fuck in all fifty states and the District of Columbia.
After a few more seconds of my only nodding, he lifted a brow and offered me an exasperated snort. "Just promise me you'll work on it, Lily."
Watching him shoulder his bag, I smiled. "Yes, Major."
*****
With the major gone, I went into Stevie's room to see what he wanted for dinner.
His gaze went adorably evil as the right side of his face crept upward in a grin. "Shepherd's Pie!"
"Get serious, little man, I don't even know what that is." Last time he had requested haggis. Then we Googled it and he immediately reconsidered and asked for meatloaf. This time, I negotiated him down to spaghetti with asparagus tips.
After five years, we had a routine, one that had grown a little cosier after his mom took off. Before, he'd want to play Xbox or get on the computer in the front room. After she left, he wanted to sit on the couch and watch movies with me. This visit, he selected home videos I'd never seen before.
He was missing his mom and it broke my heart more than a little, so I agreed. When nine rolled around, I sent him to his bedroom to give it a quick clean, change into his Transformer pajamas and brush his teeth.
Alone in the front room, I went back through the DVD, stopping each time the major was alone on screen. When I got to the part where he'd just lost a water balloon fight to Stevie, I replayed it frame by frame. The major wore a t-shirt and running shorts. The fabric was soaked through and clung to his muscled body. With the camera still running, he stripped the tee away, revealing small, hard nipples that made my pussy drool and my tongue thick with the need to lick and taste them.
On screen, he grabbed a towel then ran it over his biceps and chest. Realizing Mrs. Jones had continued filming him, he gave her a sinful grin and sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. For someone with a mad, lustful crush on Logan, it was one helluva sight to see. By the fourth replay, the tension running along my clit had stacked so high that I snuck into the laundry room with my cell phone in hand while Stevie brushed his teeth in the bathroom.
Locking the door, my gaze skipped over the full-length mirror attached to its back. Before Mrs. Jones skipped out, mirrors had filled the house—one or more per room. She was totally weird like that. I had caught her a dozen plus times looking in whatever mirror stood behind me as she gave me instructions.
Mrs. Jones, who had never invited me to use her first name, is a stick—at least she was eight months ago. So at first I thought she was staring at, and unfavorably judging, my doublewide butt, which made me even more self-conscious around her. Later I realized she only looked at herself in the mirror. She did it all the time, even when Logan or Stevie talked to her, her smiles reserved for her reflection.
The mirrors had slowly come down after she left. I never talked to the major about it, but I think he didn't want to shock Stevie with their sudden and complete disappearance. Except for the bathroom mirrors and the one attached to the dresser in Logan's bedroom, the laundry room mirror was the last survivor.
Hopping onto the washing machine, I braced a foot against the door on each side of the mirror. Normally, I hate looking at mirrors, especially large ones. I hate it so much that I raised the mirror in my bathroom at home a foot higher so it only shows my face. But I had come to terms with the mirror in the laundry room, ignoring it except for those few times I needed to use the room for stress relief when I kept my gaze focused on one spot only—the pink, wet one between my pl
ump thighs.
With my skirt riding around my hips, I watched my reflection as I pulled the gusset of my panties to one side to reveal my waxed pussy. A thin, translucent syrup had leaked from the thick press of my labia to coat the seam. Spreading their swollen folds, I revealed the darker pink of my sex.
Oh, Major, look what you've done. My pussy is soaked and swollen thinking about you.
Sighing over what would never be, I opened the browser on my phone and navigated to wardick—my favorite tumblr page. I thumbed through the posts with one hand while the other stroked my clit. I glanced at the mirror every few seconds to see how much more cream dripped from me and the lustful blush making the skin on my mound glow a pale rose. Half a dozen posts in, I found the perfect picture. It was a lap shot, the camera looking down as the subject sat with his pants pushed low. The image was hi-res, showing me a strong, tanned hand gripping a deliciously huge cock, its tip slick from a recent explosion of cum.
I licked my lips, wondering what the major's skin and cum taste like.
Looking back and forth between the mirror and the picture, my breathing picked up. My fingers skipped a little faster along my pussy as I imagined my other hand holding the major's dick instead of my phone.
On the last glance back at the phone, a text message interrupted the image on the screen.
What r u doing?
I growled. It was Emy, another big girl and my absolute best friend except for when she texts me half a second before I'm ready to come and kills any chance of a climax.
I texted her back.
On wardick wishing it was Major's cock and he was fucking me with it.
Emy really loves to goad me. Her next message was no exception.
Pussy or ass?
Spreading my hairless labia, I snapped a picture of my drenched pussy and typed a reply.
He has an open invitation to fuck me ANY place, ANY time.
Hitting send, my contacts list came up just as Stevie knocked on the door.
"You going to read to me?"
Tangled: A New Adult Romance Boxed Set (12 Book Bundle of Billionaires, Bad Boys, and Royalty) Page 32
