Our Fate

by Cathy Johns

  Our Fate

  CATHY JOHNS

  Contents:

  Contents:

  Copyright

  Author Note

  About the Book

  Prologue

  Shae

  Shae

  Marcus

  Shae

  Marcus

  Shae

  Marcus

  Shae

  Epilogue

  Marcus

  ***Sneak Peek***

  Chapter One

  Hope

  Chapter Two

  Taylor

  Acknowledgement

  About the Author

  Stalk Me:

  Other works by Cathy Johns

  Copyright © Cathy Johns,2019

  FIRST EDITION: February 2018

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be produced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  The scanning, uploading, and/or distribution of this document via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and is punishable by law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be constructed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges all songs titles, song lyrics, film titles, mentioned in this book are the property of, and belong to, their respective owners.

  Cathy Johns is in no way affiliated with any of the brands, songs, musicians or artists mentioned in this book.

  Editing: Pam Ebeler of www.undividedediting.com

  Cover Design: Tammy Clark of Graphics by Tammy

  Formatting by Susan Horsnell

  WARNING: This book contains explicit material intended for mature audience! It contains adult language and explicit sexuality. Not intended for readers under the age of 18.

  Author Note

  Please note that this story was previously part of an anthology so it was intended (and required) to be a certain length. It is a complete story with an HEA.

  This story was part of It Started With A Kiss: Anthology. There have been changes to the content of the story.

  About the Book

  What happens when we break the rules?

  One; You get hurt.

  It was supposed to be just sex, nothing more. But try explaining that logic to a stubborn heart that’s too blind to see.

  Shae, she was everything I wanted and didn't want at the same time. I had to walk away but even the distance couldn’t keep her further away from me and like fate had it, it brought her back to me.

  Only this time, I didn't know what to expect from the girl who owned my heart, and the damage I had caused couldn’t be ignored.

  I was a coward and I hurt her deep but this time, I’m ready to make it right by her.

  But is she ready to hear me out?

  Prologue

  Shae

  Past

  It started with a kiss a few years back, a kiss I couldn’t stop thinking of every time I licked or brushed my fingers against my lips. I never saw it coming, nor did I see myself falling for the one man I wasn’t supposed to fall for. It was supposed to be sheer unadulterated sex, nothing more than a physical attraction between two people who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. But just like it had started, it ended with a goddamn kiss.

  The same kiss that rendered me powerless with the way he consumed me, taking what he needed from me while he made love to me, nice and slow. He made me feel that day, he made me feel everything as our bodies became one, our hearts pounding against our chests, creating a rhythm of their own.

  Our first encounter was in the elevator. Where I was minding my own business, scrolling through my phone, scrolling through Facebook like the next person who can’t seem to control themselves when it comes to social media, then the next minute… Boom.

  Everything was shaking with the elevator coming to a stop and there I was, in his arms. His touch sending shivers all over my body, something I’d never felt before, while my treacherous body leaned in on its own free will, making me brush my lips against his. I didn’t want to kiss him, but hell, the urge was too strong for me to deny it.

  I wanted to know how his downward-turned lips would feel against mine. Were they as soft as they looked? Or would they be rough when they consumed mine? Would they make me feel like I was about to lose my goddamn mind? And want more of them? Or just another reminder of the many frogs I’d kissed before? And the hand that was wrapped around my tiny waist was a reminder of how dangerously close I was to him.

  In that moment, when my mind didn’t scream at me for not having some sense of self-control, he was a stranger, and I wanted him. I wanted the fine—hot as fuck—specimen that had eyes that could see right through my soul, then I could pick up my commonsense later after I was done with him.

  But little did I know that he was going to be my new addiction.

  He ignited pure, loving, sweet torture every time his calloused fingers grazed my body and every time his sinful mouth crashed on mine, taking what he needed, giving me what I craved for but that last day, everything about him was…meticulously planned.

  I felt every little thing he did to me, hell, even the unspoken words that went unsaid as he gazed into my eyes. I wanted to get the words out and tell him how I felt, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t bare my heart to him because he took the initiative to express everything, he felt in one consuming kiss after making love to me.

  The kiss felt so much more but still, it felt like he was saying goodbye.

  It’s true we had known each other in ways that only lovers do, sharing a few things about ourselves during our countless hookups. I shouldn’t even be calling them hook-ups because some felt more than that. Some felt like we were conveying our souls to each other, yet it wasn’t enough to put a label on what we shared and for a year, I thought things were looking up, to becoming more than ‘no strings attached kind of commitment’ but I guess we were both afraid of ruining things.

  We’d been seeing each other for a year. We never made promises to each other, but every day proved difficult for me because I was falling for him, hard and fast, and I couldn’t control whatever my stupid heart felt, even when I knew from the beginning that we weren’t supposed to be more than what we were.

  I was attached, hell, I was already hooked, to him, to everything he did to me. From the amazing mind-blowing sex that left me unable to walk straight for days, to the way his hands felt against my body, tracing every curve like some roadmap as they held me securely, and the way his eyes drilled into mine when no word was enough to say what we both felt, ruining me for any other man who’d come after him.

  Marcus Jackson was my special kind of drug.

  At least that’s what Marcus was to me, three years ago. Years that feel like he walked out of my life just the other day.

  Sometimes, I miss him to a point I don’t want to wake up from my bed and face another day, but there are days I want to hate him for shredding me into pieces, never giving me a sign that he was about to wreck my life apart. He walked out of my life without a forwarding address.

  All he did was kiss me one last time before packing his bags and leaving town.

  Shae

  Now

  I turn the volume high, “Race for the Sun” by 3 Doors Down blaring from my car speakers with the roof of my Mazda MX-5 Miata down, the
wind blowing my hair all over the place. And with no care in the world, I sing back to the lyrics as I start a new chapter in my life.

  The adrenaline that rushes all over my body reminds me of the person I have become, the person I’ve come to love, a woman who goes against everything that my grandparents taught me.

  I was raised by my grandparents after my parents decided they were too young to have a child; they had a life ahead of them and didn’t want a nuisance like me coming before their dreams of traveling the world. I was the unwanted child from the word go, but I can tell you for sure, what’s not wanted ends up being a blessing on someone’s doorstep. My grandpa calls me his lucky charm because ever since I was left on their doorstep, good things kept coming their way. He says I came with hidden blessings that kept being revealed as time went by. Grandma calls me her little miracle. She says ever since I came into their lives, there’s not a single day that she has been sad, looking at me she finds a reason to smile even when she wonders where she went wrong with my mother.

  And here I am, twenty-five years later, living an abundant life, my grandparents have been a godsend to me, and as much as life has given me all the material things that one would wish for, it denied me the only thing that would make me whole. It denied me someone to love. Don’t take me wrong, I’ve had men falling at my feet, others asking for my hand in marriage, but none had the dirty blond hair I’d rake with my fingers or the downward-turned lips I remember so well as they pressed against mine, driving me nuts, or the hands that sent shivers all over my body while they trailed every curve and ridge. The way his suits hugged his lean, well-toned muscular body like they were specifically made for him and the way he would rub his thumb across his lower lip when he was in deep thought, or even the way he curled his lips to the side in delight making the golden freckles in his eyes glitter.

  If there was a day I wished that all tall, dark, and handsome men should come with a warning sign, it was the day I laid my eyes on Marcus. Sin wasn’t the only thing I saw in him when our eyes met. No. He was one of those men every mother out there should have warned their daughters to stay the hell away from. Marcus was sin itself, spelled in bold letters, but I never listened to my mind, even when he walked towards me like a predator about to devour its prey, his hands tucked inside his dark pants—pants that hugged his muscular thighs, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows, exposing veins I wanted to trail with my fingers. The way he wore his tie loose around his neck with the top two buttons open, exposing a bit of his chest hair as he caged me in one corner of the elevator.

  The way his hazel eyes darkened before me as he took me in, had me forgetting where we were. I forgot how to breathe the minute he leaned in and brushed his lips against my exposed shoulder. It was strange since he was a stranger to me but the hell… I wanted to climb him like a tree, wrap my legs around his lean waist and god knows what I would have wanted to happen because, at that moment, it was just me and the Greek god that I wanted to commit a sin that was unforgivable with. Oh, what a sin it would have been.

  I shake my head vigorously as if doing so will make me forget the good times I had with him.

  I’m such a fool to ever think that he was just a one day/nightstand kind of guy because, for a year, he made my life one sweet hell of a place that I longed to visit every chance I got with him. More reason I couldn’t help myself when I fell for him, body, mind, heart, and soul. All of me. Withholding nothing.

  I drive through the U.S 101 highway towards my destination; Santa Rosa, California. I never saw this coming. Neither did I plan for this, but everything about my hometown reminds me of Marcus, the man I fell for but could never have. The man who stole my heart from the word go.

  ~*~

  I park my car outside what’s about to become my new home, killing the engine before inhaling deeply. I’m home. Away from what has always been my comfort zone, from my grandparents. Not that I don’t miss them already because I do, but I asked them, this once, to let me learn how to spread my wings. But Grandpa being the old man he is, my protector in all sense, he called one of the managers who manages his car dealership here in Santa Rosa and told him that I was on my way and I’d start working there as soon as I’d get settled. Thank you so much for respecting my will to spread my wings.

  I get out of the car, after pulling the folding up fabric up, and remotely lock it. I don’t have much in my car since Grandpa took it upon himself to have someone furnish my new apartment to my liking.

  Grandpa owns a few car dealerships across the country and he has never failed to provide for me and Grandma. He always told me that a man takes care of his family, not be cowards who run away like my parents did. I agree with him because only cowards walk away from what they’re meant to protect and care about, not put their selfish needs ahead of other people.

  I dig into my jacket pocket and get the apartment keys. Opening the door, I take a look around the apartment. Everything is new, and the smell of leather and new fabric surrounds the two-bedroom apartment as I walk inside, closing the door behind me. Grandpa got me new leather seats just like I had requested. I wanted to come down here and do the window shopping on my own, but Grandpa had heard none of it. He said I was still his little girl and he intends to spoil me since he’s entitled to do so. I wanted to argue but Grandma stopped me, telling me it was pointless arguing with someone who had his mind already made up.

  I walk to what is about to become my new bedroom and throw myself on top of the comforter, feeling how soft it is with the touch of my hands. I close my eyes briefly, feeling contented with life before opening them again and staring at the ceiling. Thinking about how I’ve gone from a place where I knew everyone to a place where I know not a single soul, but I’m determined to make this my new home. I know I’m going to miss Grandma’s food, but she taught me well, with countless recipes engraved in my mind. I wake up from the bed and get undressed.

  The drive from Portland to here wasn’t easy, even with all the stopovers, and I could do with a hot bath and a glass of wine to unwind for the night. I can look at the rest of the apartment in the morning when I’m not feeling like I’ve been climbing Mt. Hood.

  I walk buttnaked from my bedroom to the kitchen, not bothering to turn the lights on since the light coming from the kitchen illuminates the whole place, and the kitchen is an open plan. I open the fridge and find a few bottles of Pinot Noir. Grabbing one, I close the fridge and go in search of a corkscrew, which doesn’t take me long since I find it in one of the drawers. The kitchen cabinets are an elegant white shaker with grayish marble countertops, I can’t help myself from smiling when I see a flower vase with fresh white calla lilies neatly arranged on one corner of the countertop, with a small envelope attached to them. Very thoughtful of Grandpa, spoiling me stupid.

  I walk around the kitchen island, my bare feet feeling the soft oak flooring beneath them and reach for the card. I open the envelope only to find two cards inside and a smile spreads across my face when I see my grandma’s handwriting on one of the cards.

  I already miss you.

  You’ll always be my baby.

  Love, Grandma.

  “I already miss you too, Grandma. I’m not sure how I’m going to manage without you here,” I murmur to myself, before turning the other card and seeing the sweet message Grandpa has written to me. I know the man hardly shows any affection to anyone apart from Grandma and myself, but I’ve got to say he’s as sweet as they come. Caring and loving. That’s who he is.

  There’s more from where these came from, sweetie.

  Love, Grandpa.

  His message makes me look around and sure indeed, there are lilies of every color in every corner of the apartment, something I hadn’t noticed earlier. I walk around the apartment lighting the lights I didn’t want to turn on earlier smiling, wondering how I got so lucky to have such wonderful grandparents who would do anything just to see me happy.

  I grab my phone from my ba
g and call home. Grandma’s voice comes on and I hear her smiling over the phone the minute she realizes it’s me.

  “Hey, Grandma.” I sniff fighting the happy tears.

  “Hi, baby. You better not be crying,” she warns, and I just laugh.

  “Call them happy tears,” I say, looking around the living room where the vases are of different shapes. “There are so many vases I don’t know what to do with them when the flowers wither.” I chuckle.

  “I know.” She huffs. “I told your grandpa those were too many flowers he was ordering, but you know him. You’re his lucky charm and my little miracle.” I can’t help but half-cry, half-laugh.

  “How can I forget?” I inhale softly knowing that I’m the lucky one, to have them in my life. “I love you, Grandma.” It’s true. The love I have towards my grandparents, the only parents that I know, is immeasurable.

  “I love you too, baby.” I hear her sniffing.

  “You better not be crying, Grandma,” I warn, turning her words back at her and we both laugh before going silent, unspoken words felt even in our silence; because the most meaningful words cannot be said, they can only be said in silence.

  “Take care of yourself and you better be calling, or I’ll come knocking down that door just to remind you whose baby you are.” She warns, and I know if I don’t keep the communications line open, she’ll follow up on her threat.

  “Yes, Mom.” I tease her, even when I know I mean the name, because I’ve never known of another mother who has loved me so selflessly, guiding me and showing me that there’s more to life than what my poor parents showed me, and there will always be people who will love me and never walk away from me. How I wish that was true, because the one man I wanted left me without even a forwarding address.