by Tia Louise
Table of Contents
One to Save (One to Hold, #6)
Copyright
Chapter 1: Games
Chapter 2: Threats
Chapter 3: Secrets
Chapter 4: The Last Straw
Chapter 5: Heartbreak
Chapter 6: Safe House
Chapter 7: Birthday Break
Chapter 8: Hard Lines
Chapter 9: Moving Forward
Chapter 10: Unmasked
Chapter 11: Old Friends
Chapter 12: Making a Plan
Chapter 13: Inside
Chapter 14: The Case
Chapter 15: Badass
Chapter 16: The Worst
Chapter 17: Finished Business
Chapter 18: That Day
Epilogue: Runaway
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Books by Tia Louise
Acknowledgments
Exclusive Sneak Peek
Exclusive Sneak Peek
About the Author
Further Reading: One to Leave
One to Save
By Tia Louise
* * *
~ Derek & Melissa ~
Some threats come at you as friendly fire.
Some threats take away everything.
Family won’t let you go down without a fight.
The Secret isn’t as secure as Derek’s team originally thought it was, and a person on the inside of Alexander-Knight is set on exposing him, breaking him, and taking away all he holds dear.
Refusing to let anyone suffer for his crimes, Derek takes matters into his own hands. He’s exposed, he’s defenseless, but his friends are determined to save him.
A STAND-ALONE, ONE TO HOLD NOVEL. Adult Contemporary Romance: Due to strong language and sexual content, this book is not intended for readers under the age of 18.
Copyright
If you are reading this book and did not purchase it or win it from an author-sponsored giveaway, this book has been pirated. Please delete it from your device, and support the author(s) by purchasing a legal copy from one of its many distributors.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
One to Save
Copyright © Tia Louise, 2015
Printed in the United States of America.
Cover design by Steven Novak, Novak Illustration
Photography by Lauren Perry, Perrywinkle Photography
All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, photocopying, mechanical, or otherwise—without prior permission of the publisher and author.
For Mr. TL, always.
And for Derek & Melissa fans everywhere:
another sexy, exciting adventure for you to enjoy.
Chapter 1: Games
Melissa
In the cool darkness of the semi-crowded bar, I study the glass in front of me and consider my journey, how many steps I’ve taken in the last two years, how far I’ve come. Memories of my old life fade like smoke in a glass. The shame that held me so tightly now dances at the edges of my mind like the whisper of a bad dream, a flicker of shadows that no longer make sense in my world.
Young women in shiny slip dresses twist and laugh on the dance floor, but instead of resentment, my lips curl into a smile. My old self—cynical, bitter, defeated—is a memory I have to work hard to recall. These days I could dance all night with them, but I’d rather spend my energy on other things.
The slim glass holds a pale amber liquid, and I can’t resist taking a sip. An involuntary wince pinches my eyes as I put it down. Seven and seven. Refreshing citrus dragged down by the heavy undertone of whiskey. So gross.
Sliding my palms over my thighs, I realize my outfit isn’t much different from the girls’ on the dance floor. The deep red silk is fitted at my waist, and drapes loosely over my torso. My long, dark hair is swept over one shoulder revealing a thin spaghetti strap. I lightly touch the delicate gold chain around my neck leading to the floating heart pendant that sits between my collarbones, and light glances off the thick gold cuff on my wrist.
Unlike that night almost two years ago, I’m alone. My best friend Elaine is miles away with her new husband, most likely indulging in that blissful honeymoon period of early marriage. Make that, most certainly indulging. I know those two well.
No, I came by myself to this bar in Princeton after finishing my business with a client in town. My infant son is in Wilmington, spending the weekend with his grandmother. Studying my hands, I admire the deep blue sapphire ring on my finger, but I have no wedding band.
At thirty-two, I’m an unmarried mother of a beautiful little boy, and I wouldn’t change a thing... Yet. The tiny silver scar at my hairline reminds me of what a bad marriage looks like, and with my successful marketing business and the gorgeous cottage at the beach I own, I’m satisfied with my life. Calm, not desperate. I’ll take my next steps deliberately, with certainty.
All these thoughts preoccupy my mind when I blink up and catch him watching me from across the square-shaped bar. Blue eyes, strikingly blue because of the way they stand out beneath his dark brow, coupled with collar-length thick dark hair.
He’s massive, at least six-two, and elegantly dressed with a thick stainless watch on his wrist. I can spot his type a mile away—rich, powerful, accustomed to getting what he wants. I can’t deny the hum his gaze sets off under my skin. I know what he wants.
Catching my lip in my teeth to stop my grin, I know what I want, too, and it’s no coincidence I happened to look up at that exact moment to meet his stare. Still, I’ll make him work for it.
He starts to move, his eyes never leaving mine. I don’t look away either. Thick cords of muscle ripple beneath the thin black sweater he wears as he glides past the oblivious patrons talking and laughing. Some are more animated than others, waving their arms and putting their drinks in peril.
Yellow lights hidden in the recesses above the bar illuminate rows of liquor bottles in all colors and shapes. Glasses hanging upside down above also catch the flickering light. It’s a raucous atmosphere, but this man and I are in our own secret place of longing and desire.
As he rounds the final corner, and I see him in full, my breath quickens. My eyes drift from his broad shoulders to his narrow waist, grey slacks and black shoes, then back up just as he reaches me. A close beard shadows his face, and the muscles low in my pelvis tighten at the thought of how it feels brushing the soft skin of my inner thighs.
“Can I buy you a drink?” The low vibration of his voice touches every part of me, and the intoxicating hint of his cologne surrounds me.
Casually, I motion to the glass. “I have this.” My voice is softer and higher compared to his.
“You don’t like it.” A tease twinkles in his eyes, and I almost forget my line.
“How can you tell?”
He leans in close, “You make a face every time you sip it. I’ve been watching you.”
Soft lips graze my skin, and I catch his forearm to steady myself. “Why?”
The tables have turned, it seems, and now I have to work to stay focused. My body is like a spoiled child accustomed to instant gratification, and my insides are clenching, demanding him.
He straightens and clears his throat. “Maybe I should introduce myself. Derek Alexander.”
I slide my noticeably smaller hand across his large palm. “Melissa Jones.”
“A last name, Miss Jones?” A sexy grin curls his small nose, and a million pornographic memories floo
d my mind of that nose nudging into my dark spaces, those lips plundering areas of my body he knows will drive me wild as I moan and twist in white sheets, my fingers threading in his dark hair.
Clearing the thickness in my throat, I say under my breath, “I messed up.”
His fingers close over mine. “Sweet Melissa, that’s impossible.”
At once I remember, and I take back my hand. “I’m not so sweet.”
“Let’s skip the cava.” His eyes are dark, but I’m back to coy.
“Aren’t we celebrating?”
“We can celebrate after I show you the stars.”
“Where exactly are you planning to do this star gazing?”
“I have the key to a condo just across the street. It has a private balcony.”
For a moment, I consider how intimidating this mountain of sex standing in front of me is. At the same time, I’ve never felt afraid. Thrilling anticipation, yes, but never fear. “Why do you have a key?”
“Because I used to live there.”
“That sounds dangerous.” My elbow is in his firm grip, and I allow him to help me off my barstool. Even in my tall stiletto heels, my head only reaches the top of his shoulder.
“I’ll keep you safe.”
“You’re not safe.” My voice is a low purr.
Straight white teeth are revealed with his smile. “And you’re not sweet.”
* * *
Derek’s condo hasn’t changed—spare, little to no accessories on the very masculine furnishings, which are dark with stainless accents. It’s all hardwood and straight lines. A massive flat-screen television hangs on the wall above the gas fireplace. Only a few low lights are on. The air surrounding us on the balcony is slightly chilled, but it can’t compete with the blazing heat flooding my thighs as he holds me against the secluded outside wall.
He lifts me as if I were a doll, and our mouths open and move together, tongues touching, breaths mingling. With every kiss our panting grows faster. As many times as we’ve been here, the tension could be visible it’s still so hot.
“You wore red,” he groans moving to my jaw, tightening my stomach muscles. “You’re beautiful in red.”
The hem of my dress is pushed all the way to my waist, and his large hands grip my bare ass. My fingers slide into the sides of his hair, and I pull his face back to mine, consuming his mouth. His teeth pull my bottom lip before he moves to my temple, inhaling deeply the side of my hair.
“I don’t do this,” I gasp, still playing the game. “One night stands are incredibly risky and dangerous.”
My legs are around him, and he jerks my thong aside. “I won’t tell anyone.”
A moan scrapes my throat as he invades my core, testing my wetness with two large fingers as his thumb circles my clit.
“Oh, god...” He knows just how to touch me, and the metallic Clink! of his belt meets my ears.
Anticipation tightens my stomach, and opening my hazy eyes, I catch his reflection in the large mirror facing us from the guest bedroom. His slacks drop around his thighs, and the dim light highlights the planes of his ass.
“Mmm...” I slide my hand from his shoulder down, leaning into him so I can clutch that perfect muscle.
Just then he thrusts into me. We both moan loudly. He’s so big, it’s always a surprise. Flexing my thighs, I push myself higher, catching his shoulders so I can ride him. The movement slams my clit directly against his pelvis, driving him deeper into me.
“Shit, Melissa,” he gasps.
He’s always the lead, the aggressor, but tonight, I feel powerful. Our little pretense helped me remember how far I’ve come since the days when I was the victim. That time is over. I survived, and now I am strong.
He clutches my hips, jerking me forcefully against him. “Fucking amazing.” It’s the same movement only now he’s in charge, and he’s right. It is amazing.
“Oh, don’t stop!” I cry. He’s driving deeper, hitting me harder, and we truly let go, riding the waves, oblivious to our shouts and moans of pleasure. It’s a privilege that’s become less frequent now that our little son is old enough to be disturbed by us.
My back is pressed against the rough fabric of the patio drapes, and I look again at his body in the mirror. His ass flexes as he drives into me, over and over. It’s erotic, and the sight combined with the friction of our touch, the force of his movements, has me dancing on the edge. One last thing—I reach around to unfasten my bra and arch up. His lips clamp firmly on my beaded nipple, and with a tender bite, I fly over the edge.
“Oh, god!” My orgasm shatters my core. He doesn’t stop, and in three more hard thrusts, my entire lower body is shuddering. I’m coming again, and the intensity of the pleasure radiates under my scalp. “Oh, god, Derek.”
He’s keeps going. His forehead is at my brow, and I notice the faint sheen of sweat touching his lip. Pulling forward, I run my tongue over it, pulling it between my teeth as he sinks deeper.
With a flick of his chin, he consumes my mouth, and the moan of his orgasm fills me. His body tenses as he takes one last, slow thrust.
Salt is on my tongue as I hold him. His arms surround me, and his kisses move to my neck. We’re locked in an embrace, our bodies touching everywhere, as we melt together. It’s the most intense satisfaction combined with such familiar comfort.
“I love you so much,” I whisper.
Slowly he kisses me again. “I love you more.” A gentle suck, a light nibble at my jaw. His lips sweep my cheek before our eyes meet. “Happy anniversary.”
Smiling, I trace my fingers along his beard. “Our anniversary is in the fall.”
“It’s our mid-year anniversary.”
“It’s spring. That time when men’s thoughts lightly turn to—”
His sexy grin is irresistible. “What I’ve been thinking about all winter.”
We both laugh, and he slips out of me. My lips poke in a pretend sad face, but I lower my legs to stand in front of him. “I’ll freshen up. You owe me a cava.”
As I step through the balcony door, he playfully lands a Slap! on my bare backside. “Don’t be long. I’m not finished with you Miss Jones.”
Shaking my head, I make my way through the large master suite. It’s practically empty since Derek’s been with me full-time in Wilmington almost a year. Stuart Knight, his original business partner and Patrick’s older brother, briefly lived here before getting his own place—the identical condo across the hall. The only personal items left are a photo of us together on the beach and a new one of me holding Dex.
Stopping, I lift the small frame. Derek took it of us, and my love for him glows on my face. I’m looking up at the camera, and our son is holding my shoulders. His big blue eyes, more the color of mine than his daddy’s, gaze out at the ocean.
Warmth stirs behind me, and two strong arms wrap around my waist. “Miss him?” Derek’s voice is at my ear. His chin rests on my shoulder.
Turning my head, I kiss his cheek. “I do, but I’m glad we have this weekend.”
“Me too.” He kisses the top of my shoulder before releasing me. “Meet me in the kitchen?”
“Be right there.” Setting the frame down, I step into the bathroom to quickly clean up. My thong is ruined. “I should buy these in bulk,” I mutter under my breath.
Returning to the bedroom, I pull open the top drawer that was designated as mine when we lived apart. A few outfits and luckily, panties are still here. I’m refreshed and joining him seconds later.
“Do you think we should still keep this place? It feels like bad luck.”
He’s just finished pouring two slim flutes of cava. His lined torso is on full display, and the recessed light under the bar casts shadows, making the cut of his muscles appear even deeper. Sigh.
“It’s good that I have somewhere to crash when I’m in town. If I need to check in at the office.”
I take the glass he hands me and sip the crisp, sparkling wine. “I’m sure Stuart wouldn’t mind if you s
tayed in his guest room the few times you come here.”
His dark brow creases. “With Mariska sleeping over? That’s not very considerate.”
“Hmm.” My thoughts travel to the beautiful girl who only recently captured his stubborn partner’s heart. “I guess you have a point.”
“Besides, I like my place. Walter takes care of things, and if we need a quick getaway, we don’t have to deal with hotels and luggage...”
“Yes, I’d miss Walter.” The friendly doorman-slash-butler is like a doting grandfather to all of us. “I’m convinced. For now.”
With a grin he kisses my forehead. “How was Aunt Bea?”
“Lovely as always. She’s sending you a box of her recommendations for your groom’s cake.” He smiles, but as he turns, I see that shadow in his eyes again. Lately I’ve been seeing it more and more.
“Is that a problem?” I nudge.
He’s back with me in a blink, shadow gone. “The only problem will be trying to pick one.”
It’s not a satisfactory answer, and I take another slow sip as I watch him thumbing through takeout menus. “Hungry?”
He nods, still flipping. “Nothing here looks good.”
“Walter could order something. I’m sure he knows what you like.”
Steel blue eyes flicker to mine, and he’s hesitating, holding something back. It’s confusing after the way we just made love. Everything about the way he’s been acting these last weeks has been confusing. One moment he’s with me, the next he’s distracted, and it always happens when I start talking wedding plans. Derek has never been mercurial, and I’m trying not to let it spook me.
My visceral reaction is to remember how quickly Sloan went from doting fiancé to cheating and later, abusive husband. But Derek’s not Sloan, my heart argues. I know he’s not, yet I shudder remembering how Derek has kept secrets from me before. How we originally met because Sloan had hired him to track me—a fact I never knew until I found the emails on my ex-husband’s laptop.
“I think I’ll take the car and see what I can find,” he says. Scooping his black sweater off the couch, he leans forward to kiss my mouth briefly. “Sure you don’t want anything?”
