by Lynne Silver
Copyright © Lynne Silver 2017
ISBN: 978-0-9863557-6-9
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Editing: iProofread and More
Cover Design: Mad Hat Covers
Formatting: Champagne Formats
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Connect with Lynne
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
About the Author
Other Books by Lynne
Acknowledgements
This book is for the Dannys of the world who didn’t make it out of the dark.
Connect with Lynne
Lynne’s monthly newsletter
Facebook
Reader Group
GoodReads
Website: www.lynnesilver.com
After more than a year of celibacy, Danny Ross was going to blow if his roommate leaned over the steering wheel one more time in her tight cleavage-revealing top. It was as if there’d been a massive sale on low-cut shirts, and Amy had rounded up and purchased every last one in Miami.
The woman owned a clothing boutique. You’d think she could get a shirt that covered more than it revealed. Then again, given the tits on her, it would’ve been a crime to cover her breasts, and Amy Stern was a law-abiding citizen.
Unlike him.
Exhibit A. He was sitting in the passenger seat of Amy’s car rather than driving his own car home from a family Christmas gathering. Not his family’s gathering, his sister, Cat’s boyfriend—whoops—fiancé’s family. He’d have to get used to that new title. Anyway, they’d invited both him and Amy for Christmas and she’d had to drive. His driver’s license was long gone. Taken after his third DWI. The saving grace was that he’d managed not to kill or maim anyone.
“That was nice, wasn’t it?” Amy glanced away from the road to look at him. He averted his gaze from her breasts in time not to get caught.
“What was?”
“Christmas, the family getting together, Cat and Ian getting engaged.”
He grunted in response. Nice. Asshole. Way to look like a Scrooge on Christmas.
“You’re not happy about it? The engagement?” Amy asked.
If he answered, he’d get drawn into conversation, and every time he spoke to his roommate, it was one more rung up the ladder of chances that he would blurt out his desire for her. Unfortunately, if he remained silent, she’d think he wasn’t happy about the engagement and that news would get back to his sister, seeing as how his sister worked at Amy’s store and the two were quickly becoming glued at the hip. “It’s cool.”
Amy slowed for a stop sign and gave him a sideways glance. “‘It’s cool?’ That’s your feeling?”
He shifted in his seat, allowed himself one glance at her cleavage, and then met her gaze. “It’s really fucking cool. My sister and my best friend are getting married after wanting each other since we were kids, so yeah, I’m happy.” As he said the word happy, he realized it was a word too often thrown about. The truth was, he didn’t know what happy was anymore.
On occasion there were fleeting glances at moments that were better than others, like when Amy forgot she had a male roommate and walked out of her room in only a towel. But mainly, he lived in a numb existence. Probably a side effect of five years of hard-core drug use. His body might’ve survived intact (mostly), but his brain was fifty ways of fucked up. Like that old commercial of a fried egg being a brain on drugs. Yeah, that was him.
“Thanks again for the picture frame,” she said as she pulled into the driveway of the house they shared. “I know money is tight for you, and you didn’t have to get me a gift.”
He watched her ass as she exited her car and stayed in his seat another second before joining her on the walk up the driveway to their front door. If he pretended every single fucking thing about his life was different, he could almost pretend this moment was real. Like, he could pretend he and Amy were in a romantic relationship and had spent Christmas together because they wanted to, and not because neither had anyplace better to go. “I wanted to get you a gift,” he finally answered, watching her pretty hands as they turned the key in the lock.
She opened the front door and turned to face him. “Well, thank you. It was appreciated.”
“Wasn’t the only thing,” he blurted. Shit. He hadn’t meant to share.
“Huh?” Amy’s cute nose wrinkled. “What wasn’t the only thing?”
“The picture frame,” he said, watching the swirls of ink on her lickable skin undulate gently as she breathed. “There’s a photo for it too.”
“There is?”
They stood only inches apart, and if he leaned down, his lips would press against hers. Seeing as one hundred percent of his willpower of every damn day was used to stop him from finding his dealer and getting high, he didn’t know where he found the power not to lean down and kiss her.
It had been like this for the past month. It had taken nearly a year, but finally the worst of his addiction withdrawal was over, and his body was back to some semblance of normal. Now that it was, his body remembered it was male, and his dick wanted to come out and play.
At first he’d thought it was a reaction to a long stretch of celibacy and he’d react to any woman, but no, he saw women a lot at his job. No reaction. One of his clients had invited him into the house for a cold drink and more the other day. Zero interest. But the moment he got home. Bam. One look at Amy, one hint of her earthy perfume, and he wanted sex. Bad.
“Stay here,” he said. “I’ll go grab your other present.” He turned and practically sprinted off to his room to grab an old, wrinkled manila envelope from his nightstand. He spun back to find that Amy hadn’t obeyed his orders to stay in the living room, but instead had followed him and was standing a foot away.
She needed a map, or one of those giant clear boards like on a detective show that had string lines connecting data points. Amy didn’t understand what was happening between her and Danny. He’d gone from being the most popular boy in high school, and her the shy art-club geek, to him a drug addict loser sleeping on her couch, and her a moderately successful small business owner. And now…she didn’t know who either of them was.
Back when Danny was a total mess, it had been easy to keep him at arm’s distance. Once he got clean, she’d believed he’d defy all expectations and magically morph from college dropout addict to the outgoing success he was always meant to be. And then he’d keep her at arm’s distance. Somehow neither had happened.
Danny, the teenager, had been president of the student council, star athlete, and honor roll st
udent, always surrounded by a loud fun group of friends. Danny, the adult recovering addict, was quiet, introspective, and alone.
When his sister, Cat, had moved out of her house, Amy had generously made the offer of the room to Danny figuring it was the least she could do to help him get back on his feet. At least outsiders had told her it was generous. They didn’t know that she’d known Danny before he was an addict and she’d harbored a crush on him back in high school. If she could help even a tiny bit in getting him back to the Danny she’d crushed on, then the world would be a better place.
Living together for the first few months had been easy. Their paths rarely crossed since Amy was building a business and Danny was working and proving to his boss that he could be trusted.
It had all changed a month ago when she’d noticed that his pale, wasted, drug addled body had shifted into the suntanned body of a strong man who spent his days doing manual labor in Miami’s wealthy yards.
High school crush back into action? Check. She’d tried not to drool, especially when he came home from work, threw his sweaty T-shirt off and walked shirtless to his room. So yeah, when he’d told her to stay in the living room waiting for her gift, her legs hadn’t listened.
He half smiled and held the tattered envelope to his chest, almost embarrassed, as if he didn’t want to give her the gift, whatever it was. Odd, since he’d been the one to bring it up and make the offer.
“I thought I told you to stay in the living room,” he said.
She shrugged. “I’ve never been good at following orders,” she said.
“I bet,” he muttered.
“May I have it?” She held out her hand for the envelope, and Danny allowed her to take it from his grip as if it contained a bomb. He watched her silently open the envelope. A single black-and-white photograph was enclosed. Amy slid it out with instant recognition. “This…”
“Is the picture I took of you in art class.” He ran a hand through his overly long, dark-blond hair. “Yeah.”
“How?” She fell silent examining the picture and remembering both the day it’d been taken and the day when it had been shared in class. “I didn’t think you had anything left from before.” She didn’t elaborate, and she didn’t need to. There was one pivotal event in the Ross siblings’ lives. Before their parents were killed. And after. The picture she held was from before. Weeks before, if memory served.
“My aunt had it.”
She looked up at Danny. “The aunt you hate?” She knew from Cat that their aunt through marriage had stepped in after their parent’s death, but hadn’t been much of a loving aunt.
“Yeah. When she kicked us out, I left a box of a few things there, figuring her kicking us out was only temporary. And then…I forgot about it. I finally went back for it.” His pause, if put into words, would’ve detailed his five-year slide into poverty and drugs.
She found it astounding that of all the things Danny Ross had saved from high school, the photo he’d taken of her was among the treasured memories. They’d both taken a photography course, him to fulfill an art requirement before graduation, and her because she was a freshman who loved art. One class assignment had paired the class off and required them to take portraits of each other. Danny and Amy had been assigned together.
To Amy, a freshman who was a full three sizes larger than her classmates, getting paired off with popular senior Danny Ross had been nightmarish. She’d been sure he’d blow her off or be incredibly obnoxious. Instead, he’d called her to set up a time, and then been funny and charming during the hours spent together. She’d walked away from the assignment with more than a little crush on Danny, and some gorgeous photographs of one of the hottest guys in the school.
“You said you didn’t remember me,” Amy said, looking straight into Danny’s face. “Last year, when Cat first moved in.”
“I didn’t,” he said. “If you’ll recall, I was more than a little messed up.” Understatement. “Now that I’m coming back to me, I’m remembering more.” He gave a self-deprecating shrug. “Certain things are clearer than others.” He pointed to the photo in her trembling hands. “The photography class I remembered.”
But did he remember what happened when he’d handed the photo in to the teacher? She searched his expression intently trying to see what he recalled. Did he remember what came after? Because God knew she’d been reliving it at least weekly since he’d been living in her home.
“I don’t remember a lot about the photo, but it’s surrounded by good memories,” he said. “Unfortunately they’re hazy, but I remembered that I’d taken the class in high school and had saved my best work.” He jerked his chin to the photo and smiled. “It’s pretty crazy that—”
She never got to hear what he thought was crazy. Instead, she launched herself at him, letting the photograph fall onto the nightstand. He caught her with a surprised oomph and then bent his head to meet her lips. So long…she’d been waiting and wanting this moment so long. Ever since she’d leaned against the tree in Dante Fascell Park and posed for Danny’s camera.
Fifteen-year-old Amy had giggled and dreamed of kissing the tall, strong senior behind the camera but never dared. Her twenty-six-year-old self went for it.
It was only a matter of time before Danny became healthy enough to leave his self-imposed isolation and rejoin his life as he’d been meant to live it. He’d make new friends, or find his old ones. He’d go on dates, and then he’d find his one special woman, and that woman would never be a fat, quirky clothing designer whose idea of a wild night was walking three blocks into town for a frozen yogurt.
She only had now, so she’d grab it.
Grab it, she did. Her hands caressed every inch of skin she could reach, while her lips plastered tiny wet kisses on his neck, rough cheeks and lips. She had a searing flash of shock that she and Daniel Ross were kissing, but then her brain got taken over by lust and there was no more thinking.
There was only doing.
He had her plastered up against his body, where she could feel his muscular abdominal muscles against her curves. Her ample breasts flattened against him, but then he slipped his hand under her shirt and cupped her breast. She gasped.
“Been dreaming about these,” he murmured against her ear.
“You have?”
“You have the greatest fucking tits in Miami. Every time I turn around, they’re in my face.”
“Because they’re huge,” she pointed out.
“Not complaining,” he said, giving them a squeeze that bordered the line between pain and pleasure.
“Want to see them?”
He stepped back and looked at her with almost wild eyes. “Hell yes.” He pointed to her top. “Off.” Then he seized his own plain grey T-shirt and tore it over his head.
They’d been dressed nicely for the holiday, so it took Amy a little longer to undo the hidden zipper at her side and carefully pull the silky blouse off. She made a little ritual of folding the shirt and laying it carefully on the bed, needing the time to gather courage for Danny’s reaction to her body.
He’d always been fit, and then the drugs had wasted him to nothing. He was healthy again, and his ripped body was the stuff of dreams. Her body, not so much. Most women’s nightmares.
Except when she braved looking at him while standing in front of him topless, he didn’t look scared off. More like the opposite. There was sheer reverence on his face.
“Jesus, Amy. Seriously. Best tits in Miami. No, all of Florida.”
“You’re insane,” she said.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped forward, grabbed her, and bent his head to plant kisses over her bra. She wasn’t wearing one of her pretty bras, having opted for function, but Danny didn’t seem to mind or notice. She’d never expected that today would end with him seeing her lingerie.
With deft hands, he unfastened the clasps at her back and pulled the bra forward and off her skin. She moaned in relief and pleasure. “Feel free to go braless anytime,�
� he said.
“Mmhmm,” she murmured, holding his head in her hands as he bent to apply his tongue to her nipples. She held on for the ride, and it was a ride that took them to lying down on the bed, him holding his body over hers.
Using her heel, she hooked a leg around his hip and pulled him down so all their best parts were pressed tightly together.
“More?” he asked, pushing forward with his hips and eliciting a gasp. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Yes to everything,” she said.
He grinned down at her.
Quickly they struggled out of their clothes and then returned to their previous position. Her eyes closed tightly as their mouths met for a wild kiss. The skin on his back was rough under her palms, and it was as if the heat from the sun he worked under each day radiated out from his skin.
“Do you have a condom?” she whispered.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
Her eyes opened. “Of course you need to wear a condom. I’m not on the Pill or anything.”
He nipped at her shoulder. “I meant are you sure you want to have sex with me?”
What woman in her right mind wouldn’t want to have sex with him? “Yes,” she whispered.
“Thank God,” she thought she heard him mutter as he leaned over and pulled a condom out of the nightstand drawer. She wondered who else he’d been sleeping with that he had protection at the ready.
“I think Cat left these here,” he said, “and let that be the very last time I ever say my sister’s name during sex.”
She laughed, both at his words and at the sudden lightness of knowledge that these weren’t his condoms.
“You’re the first woman I’ve wanted since…”
He didn’t need to complete his sentence. She knew he meant she was the first woman he’d been with since being sober. She didn’t respond, but instead helped him get into position over her and guided him in.
