Don’t Let Go
By
Michelle Lynn
Copyright ©2013 by Michelle Lynn
All Rights Reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in whole or in part by any means.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events portrayed in this book are the product of the author’s imagination or are either fictitious or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Editor: S.G. Thomas
Cover photo: © CanStockPhoto.com
Cover Design: by Kerri Reaves
My Thanks
I could not be a writer if it wasn’t for the support of my husband and kids. So they will always be first on my list since they have to deal with the daily struggles of having a wife and mother who is also an aspiring author. Thank you for your patience and understanding during the days that I stayed cooped up with my laptop at the dining room table. I appreciate you not complaining when I ask you to repeat yourself numerous times since my full attention isn’t always there. Please remember that I love you all…you’re my life.
Next would be my parents, who constantly encourage me to continue toward my dreams. My dad who kept nagging in my ear all these years telling me how I’m always talking about writing a book, so why don’t I get to it.
My savior, S.G. Thomas, my editor. You did it again. Swooping down like the angel you are, “polishing” my novel. I can’t wait to work with you again, but I promise I’ll give you more time the next go around!
Heather Davenport, I don’t know what to say, except you ROCK. Thank you for answering my zillion questions and not only beta reading Don’t Let Go once but twice. You have been an awesome guide through this process and I’m truly grateful to have met you.
To Natalie Given Catalano and the rest of the Love Between the Sheets team. I’ve loved working with you during my cover reveal, book blitz and blog tour for not only Don’t Let Go but Love Me Back as well. You girls are wonderful at what you do!
All my beta readers, Michelle Hereford, Heather Davenport, Jennelyn Tabios Carrion, Colleen Lee, Crystal Taylor, Lynne Fellows, Keri Anderson-Gilson. I valued the feedback from each one of you for Don’t Let Go.
Lastly all the book bloggers. I apologize about my incessant messages asking to share teasers and links. You are all the ones that get the word out about the books and authors. I’m astonished everyday how kind and welcoming you are to help us first time indie authors out. Without you, I’m not sure where my books would be!
Chapter 1 – Four Months Ago Drayton University
He slams me against the door, his lips meeting mine urgently. His hands search my body and I wrap my right leg up around his, moving my dress higher up my thighs.
His lips move to my tear-stricken cheeks, where lines of mascara still cover them. He makes his way to my neck and then my ear, lightly nibbling around my earlobe and I know at that moment, I need this.
“Make me forget,” I whisper.
“Oh believe me, you will forget your name when I’m done with you,” he says, grabbing my ass, forcing my legs to wrap around his torso.
He carries me across the room, his lips on mine, thrusting his tongue deeper in my mouth with every step. My arms are tight against him, keeping him close. The feeling of safety is what I crave.
He throws me on the bed, our eyes never leaving one another. Pulling on my legs, he brings me to the edge of the bed and takes off my heels. His hands inch up my legs until his fingers are wrapped around each side of my black thong. He slides it down my legs, tossing the tiny piece of material onto the floor before returning to push my dress up, exposing me to him. I hear the breath hitch in his throat before he starts unzipping his dress slacks and pushing them down. He shuffles over to the nightstand and seconds later, he is on top of me.
“I have been waiting so long to have you,” he says, entering me hard and rushed. “Oh…so worth the wait.”
I remain quiet, trying to push all thoughts out of my head. When his hands reach my ass, pulling me harder against him, the pleasure increases and everything disappears. He thrusts forcefully into me, whispering how good I feel. He may not have as many moves as others and he talks too much for my liking, but I’m enjoying how well-endowed he is.
The feeling builds inside of me; I love this part. All I feel is his touch while he pumps into me. As sweat starts slicking between us, I flip him over, straddling his body. I can no longer wait for him. He is going way too slow and I crave my release. Isn’t this what it’s all about?
“That’s what I’m talking about!” he says and smirks as I slide him back into me. I want to stick a sock in his throat. His talking is making it harder for me to find my relief.
He grabs my hips, trying to move me to his rhythm, but I pick up his hands and place them on my breasts so I can control the speed and rhythm. Five minutes later, my body shudders and I sink down on top of him.
“Fuck, Sadie. You’re awesome.” He moves to kiss me, but I climb off his body, pulling my dress back down.
I stand up to put my heels back on, but he grabs me from behind, bringing me closer to him. “Stay with me tonight,” he says, wrapping his arms around my waist.
“Okay,” I agree, crawling back on the bed. It is better than being alone. I hate being alone; it only makes me relive my mistakes.
He wraps his arms around me and I can smell the alcohol on his breath as his mouth rests close to my neck. The feeling of safety surrounds me and I drift off to sleep.
The next morning the light wakes me up, streaming into the small room and I find myself alone in a strange bed. I look around, trying to remember where I am and what I did. The dirty clothes overflowing in the hamper and the sports team paraphernalia on the wall tell me that I’m most likely in a frat house…again.
I tiptoe to get my shoes, hooking them in my hands. I slowly open the door, peering right and left down the hall. I see no one, so I quietly make my way down the stairs. It seems like the front door is a mile away and I can’t get through it fast enough. Just as my hand reaches the knob, I hear talking in the next room.
“I wouldn’t brag, Soren, I had her last week.” A deep voice laughs. “Actually, you might be the last to have her.”
“She a great lay though,” Jeff Soren says in return.
“I told you she was,” the other male agrees. “Ever since…the incident, she has become the college slut.”
“I know. It’s kind of sad though.” Jeff’s voice actually sounds concerned. “I wish…”
“Dude. You can’t save girls like that, you just enjoy what they give you,” the other voice replies back.
I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Mascara is stained in long lines down my face and my long, honey-colored hair looks like a bird made its home there. My lips are swollen red, and I can’t help but think I resemble a hooker on the corner waiting for her next trick.
I turn the knob to the door slowly, hoping Jeff and his buddy don’t hear me. I sneak out, walking across the street to my sorority house. I’m happy to find that everyone is either still asleep or out. When I crash into my bed, I take the picture out of my drawer that’s been hidden away since last year. I clutch it hard against my chest while sobs escape my mouth. Curling up into the fetal position on my twin bed, I can’t help but think how I have disappointed him. I need to change the direction of my life. Make him proud of me.
Chapter 2 – Present Day Western College
I have never felt so out of place. If it wasn’t for my roommate, Jessa, I would have never known this place even existed. She told me we were coming to a bar, but this looks like a rundo
wn house that drug addicts inhabit. When she told me to park along the street, I thought we were going to the bar across the way. Not this old white house we stand in front of now. The paint is chipped away, exposing the wooden frame, and dark colored sheets cover the windows.
“Come on Sadie, it looks worse than it is.” Jessa tugs on my arm, pulling me toward the door. Girls and guys file into the bar that resembles a house, sporting different hair colors and more piercings and tattoos than I have ever seen. I can count on one hand how many people I know who have a tattoo and no one I know has a piercing other than their earlobes.
Of course, Jessa fits in with her short blonde pixie cut and tongue piercing. I notice the guys giving her a once over before turning to me, questioning and judging why I’m here. How different this feels, to be the one judged. I suddenly regret every glare I’ve ever given someone who is different than me.
“I don’t know, Jessa. Maybe I should just go back to the dorm, you can text me when you need a ride home,” I say, starting to back step to the safety of my car.
“No you don’t, Sadie. I won’t leave your side, just give it a try. The music is really good.” She grabs my hand and I reluctantly follow her to the opening door.
A bald guy with a reddish, long-haired goatee and tattoos stretching over each arm puts his hand out to us. Jessa takes out her five dollar cover fee out of her back pocket, while I fumble through my purse, handing him a fifty. He cocks one eye at me, then hands me my change back in five dollar bills. I stuff them in my purse and clasp it shut.
Jessa grabs my hand and leads me into what I envision as the living room. There are couches along every wall and chairs strewn around. All the furniture looks like it should be in a landfill and it shocks me that people are actually comfortable relaxing on them.
Walking a little further into the bar/house, a band is playing in the far corner, which I assume was the kitchen at one time. It sounds like they are banging on their instruments rather than playing them while the lead singer screams into the microphone. I can’t understand one word coming out of his mouth but Jessa’s head keeps up with the beat, bopping from shoulder to shoulder, making me wonder what I’m missing.
Thankfully, Jessa positions us against the wall out of the way and buys two beers from some guy in the corner. I’m happy when they’re unopened, since he pulled them out of a cooler one usually takes camping. I reluctantly take a sip and wince from the taste. Quickly, I smile over toward Jessa to reassure her I like it, but she’s already distracted by the music, jumping up and down.
I take my time to observe my scenery. Almost every girl has looked me up and down in disgust and guys skim over me curiously. It’s a one-eighty from what I’m used to. Until recently, I have never been a girl guys notice. Not until after Theo. I didn’t handle the attention very well, but it felt nice to be desired.
I left that Sadie behind though. I’m going to reinvent myself. No more letting boys lead me to their bedrooms at the end of the night, or waking up in strange beds in the morning. No more out of control shopping trips, or parties until dawn. I will make the Dean’s List and be the child they miss. I promised I would no longer be the screw-up daughter who did nothing but disappoint them.
Lost in thought, I’m surprised when I turn to my right and see Jessa making out with a short, dark-haired guy with “Rebel” scripted into the back of his neck in big, black lettering. His ringed fingers grab her ass, pulling her closer to him and she doesn’t seem to be pushing him away. This is my time to escape.
“Jessa, I’m going to get going. Call me if you need a ride.” I tap her shoulder. She stops kissing the dark-haired rebel.
“No Sadie…stay,” she begs, while Rebel continues to kiss and suck on her neck.
“Really, I need to go.” I start getting my keys out of my purse.
“Okay,” she relents, nodding her head with disappointment on her face. “Don’t worry, I’ll get a ride.”
I wave my hand to her and walk toward the front door. I hadn’t realized how packed full of people the bar/house became. I weave in and out between clusters of people, trying to make my way to the door. I couldn’t imagine if a fire broke out. Surely this is not a legitimate business establishment, but rather a permanent house party.
I’m almost back to the bald man when someone bumps into me. My feet fumble and I try to catch myself before I fall straight back on this disgusting floor, or worse, into a group of people. My purse flies off my arm, spilling its contents when it crashes to the floor. I put my hands out behind me ready to catch myself when an arm wraps around my waist, pulling me back.
“Whoa girl,” the stranger says. He tries to straighten me up, placing both his hands on my hips.
“Thank you,” I respond, not looking his way. I kneel on the ground and hurriedly pick up my items, shoving them back in my purse.
“Here you go.” That same voice has my keys in his hand. When I go to grab them, he shuts his hand. “I don’t think you need them.”
I look up at a set of caramel eyes staring back at me. His brown hair is short, but slightly turned into a small Mohawk in the middle. Although he isn’t my usual type, he is absolutely stunning. He isn’t wearing khakis and a polo. His hair isn’t trimmed and cut to perfection. He is nothing like what I am used to, but still I can’t tear my eyes away.
I stand up and glance down at his hand wrapped around my upper arm and then back up to his face. He smirks at me. “Why are you holding me up and can I have my keys now?” I demand.
“Sorry, I don’t let people drive drunk.” He puts my keys in his pocket.
“I’m not drunk,” I spit out.
“That’s what they all say,” he deadpans.
“What do you want me to do to prove it? Walk a line? Say the alphabet?” I ask, irritated that this man is keeping me from my lonely night in my dorm room. “Z, Y, X…” I start to rattle off the alphabet backwards.
“You really aren’t drunk?” He holds his hand up to stop me from continuing.
“No, some jerk knocked me down,” I tell him.
“Really?” He looks deeper in my eyes for some sign of alcohol. “Sorry, I just assumed since you were fumbling backwards.” He looks me up and down. “I figured you swayed over from the frat party down the street.”
“No, I was here with my roommate, I had a couple sips of a beer and if you could hand me my keys, I would like to leave now,” I request, keeping my eyes on the ground.
“You’re leaving before the final band?” he asks, still not giving up my keys. Not that I would mind going after them myself.
“Yes, I have an early morning,” I say with my hand out, impatiently waiting for my keys.
“I will give these back to you on one condition.” He digs them out of his worn-in jeans, dangling them in front of me.
“How about you just give them to me and call it a night?” I suggest.
“What’s the fun in that? I want you to stay for the last band. It’s my band, The Invisibles.” He smiles down at me.
“Listen...” I pause for his name.
“Brady. Brady Carsen,” he discloses.
“Listen, Brady. I’m not the kind of girl you are looking for. So I thank you for stopping my fall and helping me pick up my things, but why don’t you just give me my keys. You can go up and play and I will go home.”
“Kind of girl I’m looking for?” He raises his eyebrows. “Just stay and afterwards we can get to know each other better.” There’s that phrase, ‘get to know each other’, which clarifies to me again that I’m not the girl he wants. I figure the easiest way to get him to leave me alone is to agree to his terms.
“Alright, I’ll stay,” I agree, already deciding that I will leave once he starts playing. He finally hands me my keys and I keep them placed in my hand, planning my escape.
“You’re going to love it,” he says and grabs my hand, tugging me back the way I came.
He stops me at a spot on the right-hand side at the corner of the kit
chen/dining room. “Stay here. I’ll come back for you after the show,” he whispers in my ear, since the band before him is still playing. He turns away from me, but quickly turns back around.
“I never caught your name.”
“Sadie Miller,” I spill out before thinking I should have given him a fake name.
“It’s nice to meet you, Sadie. Enjoy the show.” With a turn of his heels he walks away from me.
Five minutes later, the one band has taken off their equipment and I’m guessing the three other guys up on stage with Brady are the remaining members of The Invisibles. When they are all ready, Brady looks my way. He winks at me before he jumps off stage and walks toward the back hallway.
Abruptly, the whole place gets quiet and people push their way through the crowd to get as close as possible. I see now why Brady positioned me here; no one will be able to push me around and I can still see the stage clearly. All the lights go off and then colored lights beam down from the ceiling. I’m surprised they only do this for The Invisibles. What about the other bands? Why don’t they get this special treatment?
A guy who is older than me by ten years or so stands up to the microphone. His hair is in a long Mohawk with different streaks of color throughout. He introduces The Invisibles and Brady leads his band members up onto the stage. Brady takes the microphone off the stand and the drummer starts beating his sticks in the air. The guitarist and bassist stand in a wide stance, holding their instruments, anticipating the start.
Brady’s presence on stage demands attention and the crowd gives it willingly. He is probably just over six feet or so. Strong build but not overly muscular. His old school band t-shirt molds tight across his shoulders and it rises up when he raises his arms, exposing the small ripples of his stomach. Brady in jeans and a t-shirt is the most incredible vision, but I wouldn’t mind seeing him without them, too.
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