Unsound

by Chantal Fernando

  “What’s going on?” the woman asks in an accented voice.

  “Clara—”

  “Yeah, don’t bother,” I reply, turning around and walking away.

  Don’t cry, Clara.

  Heading back towards the bus stop, I’m almost there when I hear him call my name. He was coming after me, but it was too late now. The damage was done. He tried to warn me, he did. This was my fault.

  A bus pulls up, finally something going right. I jump on, scan my pass, take a seat, and watch as Tag stands there, watching the bus drive away.

  My phone starts to ring, but I don’t answer.

  I go home and start to cry as soon as my face hits the pillow.

  *****

  “You okay?” Brandon asks as I resurface from my self-imposed seclusion.

  I nod. “I will be.”

  “You want me to make you something to eat?” he asks, nodding towards the fridge.

  Turns out, Brandon is a nice guy. And Tag was right, he does like me.

  “No, it’s okay. Where’s Ellen?” I ask. She was our other roommate, and not home often.

  “She has classes.”

  “Right.”

  “Clara, your eyes are red from crying. What did that guy do to you?” he asks, studying me.

  My lips start to tremble. Brandon comes over to me and pulls me into his arms, rubbing my back. “You’re a total babe. Any man would be lucky to have you. Fuck him.”

  “Th- thank you for saying that,” I sniff into his chest.

  “It’s the truth, doll,” he rumbles.

  Such a nice guy.

  Even if I could feel him hardening against me.

  Awkward.

  I pull away and offer him a forced smile.

  A bang on the front door has me jumping. “Clara! Open the door!”

  What the fuck is he doing here?

  Brandon gives me an expectant look.

  “Don’t answer. He’ll go away.”

  *****

  An hour later, Tag was still there.

  I open the door and find him sitting on the floor, his face in his hands.

  “Go home, Tag.”

  “Not until you hear me out,” he says, dropping his hands, standing up, and letting his eyes roam over me.

  “If you ever gave a shit about me, you’ll leave,” I say, my voice cracking.

  “Clara—”

  “I know, Tag. You gave me no promises. It’s okay. I’ll move on with my life. It will be fine.”

  “I fucked up,” he says. “I thought I could carry on as I was, but I can’t. I thought I couldn’t commit to anyone, but for you, I can. I made a mistake. I didn’t sleep with her or anyone else.”

  I purse my lips. “If I didn’t drop by today, would you have slept with her?”

  He looks away and swallows. “I don’t want anyone but you. It took seeing you today to make me realise it. I never want to hurt you, Clara. I want to be the one taking care of you, making you smile. I know you won’t trust me now, but give me a chance to prove myself.”

  “Tag, you were just with another woman. At your house. I don’t know what you expect from me.”

  “Please, Clara,” he whispers, his eyes pleading with mine. “That look on your face. Fuck, I never want to see that look again.”

  “Go, Tag.”

  “I never even kissed her,” he says. “Her hands on me felt wrong. I don’t want anyone touching me but you.”

  I smile sadly. “If only you’d figured that out before.”

  “Clara—”

  “Goodbye, Tag.”

  I close the door and cry some more.

  I ignore Tag for the next few days, even as hard as he makes it. He calls me, he drops by, and he sends flowers. He does everything he can to get me back. I find my own way to work, leaving earlier so I don’t have to run into him. Work is the only place I have no choice but to talk to him, but other people are always around.

  “I miss you,” he tells me as he walks past. “When are you going to forgive me?”

  “You’re never going to change, Tag.”

  “I haven’t been with anyone since we got together, how is that not having changed?” he replies, looking frustrated. “I haven’t been perfect, but fuck Clara, I used to have women over every other night. You’re wrong. I have changed.”

  “Why was she at your house?” I fire back.

  He sighs, cringing. “She asked me out. I said yes.”

  I throw my hands up, like ‘there you go.’

  “My head was fucked up. You’d left to room with that guy closer to your age, and I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Doesn’t everyone deserve a second chance?”

  “They do,” I say slowly. “But when my heart is on the line, it’s not as easy as that, is it?”

  He reaches his hand out, runs a finger along my jaw. “I messed up once, but I won’t do it again. That I can promise you.”

  I don’t know what to think, but dammit, the ice around my heart is starting to thaw.

  Tag kisses my forehead and then walks off.

  “Fuck,” I mutter under my breath when I realise I was staring at his ass.

  I want him, but he hurt me.

  Could I trust him again?

  *****

  The next weekend, the club was packed. There was a live band playing, and the atmosphere was wild. Summer has been acting a little weird all night, but I ignore her and continue with my work. It’s not until later that I find out why.

  “Clara?” when I hear Tag say my name, I look to the stage in confusion. He was standing there, looking sexy as sin, his brown eyes on me.

  He clears his throat. “Clara, I just want to ask you… Will you be my woman? Officially?”

  Cheers play out, and I can feel my cheeks heat.

  He continues. “I want you to be mine, and I want everyone to know you’re mine. Oh, and you’re moving back in with me. You’re not fuckin’ living with another man. I love you, Clara.”

  More cheers and catcalls.

  “Get up there,” Summer says, nudging me.

  “Oh and sorry to all the women. I’m off the market,” Tag says into the microphone, making everyone laugh.

  I put down the tea towel in my hand and walk up to the stage. Tag jumps down and lifts me in his arms and spins me around, his lips finding mine.

  “Is that a yes?” he asks, his eyes searching mine. “Please tell me you forgive me for fucking everything up.”

  “It’s a fuck yes,” I reply, kissing him back with a vengeance. “I was already yours, Tag.”

  He puts me down and smiles widely. “I’m in a relationship. I’m now a committed man.”

  I roll my eyes. “You’ve been in one since you met me, you just didn’t know it.”

  His mouth twitches. “I told you I loved you.”

  “I know.”

  “You didn’t say anything back.”

  I grin. “I know.”

  “Don’t make me spank you.”

  I giggle at that. “I love you, Tag. I’ve loved you for a while now.”

  “Really?” he asks, resting his forehead against mine. “I’m so fuckin’ lucky. I’ve been a dickhead, Clara. After Kaley, I said I’d never trust anyone fully again, never give everything I had to a woman, but I’ve done that with you since the start. I was just too stupid to see it. I’ve been yours since we first ran into each other. I was trying to keep you at a distance with my words, but you know that I’ve shown you with my actions how I feel. And now, everyone fuckin’ knows it too.”

  He was right, he had always shown me how he felt. He’d always been there for me.

  Always.

  I was glad he’d finally opened up, public announcement or not.

  “I’m the lucky one,” I reply, rubbing my nose against his.

  “Get a room!” I hear Ryan call out.

  “There’s an idea,” Tag replies, grinning.

  I slap his shoulder playfully. “After work, I’m all yours.”

&
nbsp; I was always.

  *****

  One Month Later

  I had money saved in my bank.

  It felt good having some financial security. I moved back in with Tag a week later. He only let me pay for groceries, and even that was now and again, no matter how much I argued. So everything I earned, I saved. I know he wants me to feel secure, so I don’t have to worry about anything, and I am thankful he gives me that. I started calling my mum once a week, and she seems really happy about it. I can’t hold it against her, calling her weak, forever. She loved my dad, and she made her decision. It didn’t have to affect our relationship. I was letting everything go—the hurt, the pain. And I was becoming a better person because of it. I couldn’t control other people’s actions; I could only control my own. My dad was right about one thing, and that was me going to uni. I’d always wanted to go, but then, I didn’t. So, I enrolled myself for next semester in a business degree. Tag supports me one hundred percent, no matter what I want to do. I am a lucky woman; that is for sure.

  “You look beautiful today,” he says as he enters our bedroom.

  “You say that every day.”

  “That’s because you’re fuckin’ hot.”

  I grin. “Right back at you. In fact, why don’t you come and show me up close just how hot you are?”

  “What do you want, Clara?” he asks, eyes darkening.

  “You. Naked.”

  He pulls his t-shirt off and flexes, showing off his ripped muscles. My mouth waters. When he slides down his pants and boxer shorts, I stare at his cock in appreciation.

  “I want that in my mouth right now,” I say, pointing at it.

  “Fuck,” he grits out, eyes widening. “Get on your knees, Clara.”

  I do as I’m told, smacking my lips together in anticipation.

  “Open your mouth,” he demands.

  I open wide, and let him slide himself inside. Then, gripping onto the base of him, I suck him deep.

  “Clara,” he moans. “Shit woman, you’re so damn sexy.”

  I lick him from top to bottom.

  “Touch yourself while you suck my cock,” he demands, heavy-lidded eyes on me. Reaching one hand down, I slide my panties to the side and touch myself. I’m already wet, and I use some of the wetness on my finger to touch my clit.

  “That’s it,” he whispers, running his hands gently through my hair. His hips move gently, his cock sliding in and out of my mouth in a slow rhythm. Suddenly, he pulls out, lifts up my dress, and rips off my panties.

  “I liked those.”

  “So did I,” he says then slides into me in one smooth thrust.

  “Yes,” I whisper. “So good, Tag.”

  He lowers his head to kiss me.

  I close my eyes, loving everything about this man.

  He is my happily ever after.

  And I couldn’t be more thrilled.

  “Clara, will you marry me?”

  Holy shit.

  He was down on one knee before me, making my dreams a reality.

  “Of course I will,” I tell him, tears pooling in my eyes. He slides the ring on my finger then stands and pulls me in for a kiss. I hold onto his broad shoulders, clutching him almost desperately.

  The last year has been the best of my life.

  Tag earned back my trust, and our relationship is one I never thought I’d ever have.

  “I love you,” he says against my lips. “So fucking much, Clara.”

  “I love you, too,” I reply, smiling, looking down at my ring. “It’s beautiful.”

  “You’re beautiful,” he replies, eyes sparking. “And you just made me the happiest man alive.”

  “That’s it. We’re making love. Right now.”

  He grins devilishly.

  And I smile happily.

  Sometimes, knights in shining armour are disguised.

  Sometimes they are covered in tattoos, curse, and talk dirty.

  And that is perfectly okay with me.

  ALSO BY

  CHANTAL FERNANDO

  Resisting Love Series

  Chase (Book #1)

  Kade (Book #2)

  Ryder (Book #2.5)

  James (Book #3)

  Maybe Series

  Maybe This Time (Book #1)

  This Time Around (Book #2)

  Stand-Alones

  Toxic Girl

  Dragons Lair

  Spin My Love

  Saxon

  THE BROKEN PIECES OF US

  By M.N. Forgy

  Copyright © 2014 M.N. Forgy

  Edited by Hot Tree Editing

  Cover design by Arijana Karčić, Cover It! Designs

  Formatted by Max Effect

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fictions. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

  BULL

  I lean against the bar, noticing empty beer bottles everywhere. I think we may have partied just a little too hard last night. I take my hands off the bar in search of a cup for coffee, noticing my fingers are sticky.

  “What the fuck?” I whisper.

  I press my thumb and forefinger together and watch my skin stick together when I pull them apart. Looking down at the bar’s countertop, I notice grime and dust coating the top of it. I feel my knee brush against the dish bin, causing glasses to clash together. Looking down, I find it overflowing with dirty cups. Some have been there way before the party, along with week-old beer bottles. This place really needs a cleaning, and these boys are not up for the job. Hell, I have to put a gun to a prospect’s head just to get them to take the trash out.

  The club’s front doors slam open with force, shaking all the pictures of mug shots and memorabilia on the wall, grabbing my attention from the filth lining the bar.

  A fuming Babs walks in, her red curly hair piled on her head with little strips falling loose framing her heart-shaped face. Got her name Babs because she talks too much. Every time we have a get-together, you can hear her loud mouth from anywhere. She’s wearing a white button-up shirt that ties at the bottom, tight blue jeans, and black leather boots up to her knees. She looks good, busty and confident. She looks like she just turned thirty rather than being in her forties. How Locks got such a spitfire, I’ll never know.

  “Morning, darlin’.” She glances up from looking at the floor, her green eyes squinted with anger, and flips me off. I laugh so hard my body shakes. I forgot she’s pissed at me. Locks has been playing her dirty here lately. He’s been staying here with whomever will warm his bed, and uses me as a scapegoat, telling Babs I need him here, that shit went south on a deal and I might need him at a moment’s notice. It’s all a lie though, and I didn’t agree to be a scapegoat either. Not to mention, I’m not entirely in favor of him sleeping around on his ol’ lady the way he does. But there’s no law saying he can’t cheat on her, thanks to my pops. He was president before I was, and pretty much made the rules of the club. Sure, I could hold a meeting and have it changed, but I already know that vote wouldn’t pass.

  A huge crash echoes from down the hall along with screaming and shouting.

  I rub my face and sigh. I already know what’s going on. Locks finally got
caught.

  “Fuck you, Locks!”

  I stride out from behind the counter, going toward the commotion. I walk in the room and find the end table turned over with the lamp broken on the floor. Locks is standing with his shirt unbuttoned, buckling his belt, and Candy is getting up from being on her knees. Well, more like being pulled up by her hair by Babs.

  “What’s going on here, brother?” I question Locks, but I can clearly see what’s happening.

  Locks takes his fierce gaze from Babs and looks at me. His brown eyes stare at me, eyebrows furrowed, causing a swarm of winkles to form.

  “You might be involved with a lot of shit around here with you being the club president, but this doesn’t concern you,” Locks replies, his tone sharp.

  My jaw clenches with anger, and my fist trembles with the urge to punch him in his disrespecting mouth. I look away from Locks and look toward Babs. Her green eyes are widened with rage, as she clenches her hand in Candy’s blonde hair looking at me warily. I rub the scruff of my face, and leave. Who the fuck does Locks think he is, talking to me like that? I’m his fucking president, and he should show me more respect, but I’m going to leave it for now because I respect Babs too much to punch Locks right in front of her. She has enough to deal with right now.

  I position myself behind the counter, my jaw gritting with anger. When I glance up, Babs is rushing toward the doors to leave, holding her cheek and looking down at the floor.

  “Babs?” I call after her. My tone is questioning, curious as to why she is holding her face.

  She ignores me and walks out the doors. I jog out of the club, trying to catch up to her.

  “Babs!” I yell again, trying to gain her attention. She continues to ignore me, not faltering in her steps toward her red truck.

  “Delilah!” I shout, using her real name. She suddenly stops, but doesn’t turn around to face me. I catch up to her and place my hands on her shoulders. She’s still holding her cheek with her hand, her face turned away.

  “What happened?” I question softly. She doesn’t reply. She just keeps looking down, holding her cheek. I grab her hand gently and pull it from her face, revealing a hand mark staining her porcelain skin. It’s so red it looks purple. Little goose bumps rise from the pain firing through her cheek.