Save Me

by Cecy Robson

  “When did you realize you liked me?” she asks.

  I didn’t realize I was smiling until that smile dissolves. “I don’t know exactly. I thought you were cute from the start.”

  “From the start?” she asks, lifting her head. “You mean from the day we met at the bakery?”

  “Yeah. Why do you find it so hard to believe?” I ask when she frowns.

  Allie doesn’t answer. I suppose she doesn’t need to. She’s never realized how amazing she is. “The more I got to know you, the more I liked and wanted you.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” she asks.

  I smirk. “Why didn’t you?”

  She shakes her head. “Seamus, for someone like me, I did a lot to demonstrate how much I cared for you. But I think it comes back to what I said. I didn’t want merely a physical relationship. I didn’t want to be another woman you slept with and then moved on.”

  “You could never be that,” I assure her.

  “I didn’t know that,” she admits. “But it remained my biggest fear. I can’t imagine my life without you . . .” She crinkles her nose. “Sorry, was that too much?”

  “Not at all,” I admit.

  It’s good to hear her say everything I’ve thought about and everything that follows.

  “I worried constantly about what would happen to our friendship if I told you how I felt. It no longer became about me having a date to my sister’s wedding. I wanted it all. I just wasn’t sure I’d get to have it.”

  My hand curls around hers. “You have it now and I’m not going anywhere.”

  The Darth Vader ring tone announces Mamacita’s call. Allie groans. “I’d better get that,” she says.

  I follow her when she drags her body across the bed, my fingers dancing along her spine as she answers.

  “Shhh,” she says to me.

  “You saying you don’t want your mother to know I’m in bed with you?” I ask, nibbling on her ear.

  Allie laughs and answers the phone. “Hi, Mom,” she says.

  “Valentina’s gone,” she says.

  Allie sits up. “What do you mean gone?”

  “Andres showed up to the brunch by himself. He told us Valentina had to leave for Europe with the producer who was there last night. Something about Valentina getting her own reality show where she designs elaborate weddings for millionaires and films the results.”

  Allie glances over her shoulder to see if I’m listening. I snort, letting her know I heard everything. All right, that explains the freak show. This wasn’t just about Valentina’s wedding ceremony. It was about what the ceremony could do for her career.

  Damn, she must have been planning her return to greatness for months, not caring what it cost her, and especially, Andres.

  The pride I expect in Mamacita’s voice, that one that should come from her very extraordinary daughter getting an extraordinary opportunity, is noticeably absent. Mamacita isn’t stupid. She knows what Valentina did.

  “Would you like to come to the brunch?” Mamacita asks. “Andres is gone and the whole family is here. We’d love to see you.”

  Allie looks at me before speaking. “I can’t, Mom. I’m with Seamus.”

  There’s a brief pause and I’m sure as anything Allie’s mother will rip me apart. Instead her voice splinters and there’s no doubt in my mind Mamacita is crying. “Seamus really loves you, doesn’t he?”

  “Yeah. He does,” I reply, pulling Allie on top of me.

  Allie says a quick goodbye and disconnects.

  It doesn’t take long for me to get hard or for Allie to ride me. I sit up, pulling her hair back, exposing her throat and her tightening nipples.

  I kiss her neck and suck on the tips of her breasts, rewarding the increasing speed and sway of her hips. Those sounds she makes, I’ve heard them all night and want to keep hearing them.

  I flip her onto her knees when she finishes, her nails raking into the sheets. I think she’s close again, but her back straightens, pushing into my chest. She cups her breasts as I thrust wildly.

  Valentina and Andres may be over. But me and Allie have only just begun.

  Epilogue

  Allie

  My hands are full as I walk in from the garage and into our kitchen. I place the mail on the quartz counter and our take-out on the center island. It’s been a long week and I’m ready for a nice quiet evening and plenty of alone time with my love.

  Still, I take a moment to admire the kitchen. I’m thrilled with the cabinetry. Seamus did a magnificent job with the details, adding his own personal touch, like always.

  I hit the button to the intercom. “Hey, honey. Where are you?”

  “In the shop,” his voice calls.

  Of course he is.

  “You coming?” he asks, sounding rushed.

  Quick shuffling ensues. “I’ll be right there,” I assure him, wondering why he sounds nervous.

  I push open the French doors, the stained glass that decorates them another piece of artwork Seamus can take credit for. The construction is almost complete. But thanks to Seamus and my own decorating touches, this house became our home long before we moved in.

  My heels dig into the soil of our large back yard. I shouldn’t have worn them out here, but I miss Seamus and am anxious to see him.

  My mother gave me an earful about Valentina on my drive home. As much as Valentina’s career received that reboot she sought, it hasn’t spared her from the tabloids or the mud flung her way. There are stories swirling around the gossip magazines about her affair with a director and the uncompromising position she was found in with a married duke.

  “I’m so embarrassed,” my mother told me.

  Unfortunately, Valentina isn’t embarrassed enough. Her marriage to Andres was annulled less than month after they exchanged vows. She was linked to the producer of her wedding show for a while, but then came the director and the duke after that.

  I slide open the stable doors that lead to Seamus’s shop. He usually leaves them open so the sawdust doesn’t overwhelm him, especially on beautiful spring days like today.

  Seamus looks up when he sees me, frowning.

  “How come you’re not naked?” he asks. “I haven’t seen you since last night. The least you could do is walk in here naked.”

  I laugh. “The last time I did that, you yelled at me.”

  “That’s because I was slicing through lumber at the time.” He stretches, his gray T-shirt riding up and giving me a glimpse of those abs I should see more of tonight. “You hear any machines on?”

  “No.”

  He strolls to me, his hands immediately seizing my backside and giving my cheeks a squeeze. “Then you should be naked.”

  We start to kiss, but he abruptly pulls away. I’m not certain why. I’m usually the one running out the door to escape that sexy body and those wandering hands.

  I pout. “That’s all I get?”

  He grins, appearing shy. “I want to show you something.”

  Seamus’s fingers thread through mine. He leads me to a small object covered with a towel beside a larger object covered with a sheet. He pulls the towel off the smaller subject first.

  “Here it is,” he says.

  “Oh, my goodness,” I say. “You finished it.”

  The statue is about three feet tall, depicting a mother and father cuddling their child. “You think Killian and Sofia will like it? I feel bad I didn’t finish it in time for Logan’s Christening, but I wanted to get it right. Between Angus and Molly finally tying the knot and all the other things with the family we had going on, I ran out of time.”

  “They’re going to love it,” I say, gushing. I step forward, analyzing the detail. “This is from what’s left of Grammie and Pop-Pop’s tree?” I ask.

  Seamus crosses his arms, again his face reddening. “That’s right.”

  I look at the large item with the sheet covering it. “Then what’s that?”
I ask.

  Seamus turns around. “That thing? Something else I’ve been working on, but it’s not quite done. Want to see it?”

  I adjust the collar of my navy dress. Seamus is very particular about the artwork he creates, never wanting anyone to see or judge until they’re perfect. “Only if you want me to. I know how you feel about the things you most care about.”

  “I know you do.” His gaze softens. “Which is why I’d like you to see it.”

  Seamus walks forward and lifts the edges of the sheet, pausing and taking a deep breath before the big reveal. I can’t quite see his latest project until he takes a step back and permits me forward.

  Like the rendition of the family he created for Killian and Sofia, this statue is an abstract, the base secured to a granite slab where the male is kneeling. The male’s hand stretches out, holding the hand of the woman he clearly loves.

  Tears fill my eyes when I hear Seamus shuffle behind me. As I turn, I find him on his knee, holding out a blue velvet box, those tears spill and I’m not sure how I’ll get them to stop.

  Seamus opens the box, revealing a princess cut diamond ring. “The only way to finish this masterpiece is for you to say yes.” He swallows hard, his eyes shimmering. “I love you, Allie. You are my life. Will you marry me?

  Of course, I say yes, signaling the final O’Brien receiving his happily ever after.

  Dedication

  To Shirley, for always treating me like one of your own. Your “little one” will miss you.

  Acknowledgment

  I met Killian, my first O’Brien, in Once Perfect. When he made an appearance in Once Loved, I knew I wouldn’t be able to let him go. But when I met his family in Once Pure, I knew I was onto something. I just never imagined where this wonderful, loud, completely inappropriate, and loving family would take me.

  Finn, Wren, Killian, Curran, Seamus, Declan, Angus, and Ma, thank you. You gave me plenty of laughs, helped me shed my share of tears, and made me fall in love over and over again. I’m sad that we’re saying goodbye. I’m honored to have given you the happy endings you all deserve. Mostly, I’m grateful you found your way into so many hearts.

  To my fans, who have suffered, cheered, laughed, and swooned right along with me, you’ll never know the extent of my gratitude. This family is as real to me as they are to you.

  To the usual suspects, Jamie, Nic, Kim, Kristin, Gaele, and now Val, thank you for experiencing the O’Briens with me. From the first draft to the last, you were there.

  To my beloved children, this is what family is really about. I’m blessed to call you mine.

  Photo by Kate Gledhill of Kate Gledhill Photography

  Cecy Robson is an author of contemporary and new adult romance, young adult adventure, and award-winning urban fantasy. A double-nominated RITA® Finalist, Winner of the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence, and a published author of more than twenty titles, you can typically find Cecy on her laptop or stumbling blindly in search of caffeine.

  www.cecyrobson.com

  Facebook.com/Cecy.Robson.Author

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  BY CECY ROBSON

  The Shattered Past Series

  Once Perfect

  Once Loved

  Once Pure

  The O’Brien Family Novels

  Once Kissed

  Let Me

  Crave Me

  Feel Me

  Save Me

  The Carolina Beach Novels

  Inseverable

  Eternal

  Infinite (coming soon)

  The Weird Girls

  A Curse Awakened (novella)

  The Weird Girls (novella)

  Sealed with a Curse

  A Cursed Embrace

  Of Flame and Promise

  A Cursed Moon (novella)

  Cursed by Destiny

  A Cursed Bloodline

  A Curse Unbroken

  Of Flame and Light

  This book contains excerpts from Let Me, Crave Me, and Feel Me from the O’Brien Family novels as well as Inseverable, from the Carolina Beach Series by Cecy Robson. The excerpts have been set for this edition only and may not reflect the final content of the final novels.

  Read on for excerpts from:

  Read on for an excerpt from

  Let Me

  An O’Brien Family Novel

  by Cecy Robson

  CHAPTER 1

  Finn

  I see the strike coming at me a split second before it connects with my skull. My head snaps back from the force, the crowds’ hollers resonating like a muffled cry in the distance. It was a good punch―lightning quick with enough impact to knock most guys on their asses. But I’m not most guys.

  You hit me, I’m only going to hit you harder.

  My right hand shoots up, blocking and smacking away the kick gunning for my ribs. I pivot out of the way, again, and again, and again, avoiding Easton’s arms and legs as they come at me. He’s fast, strong, with a six inch reach advantage. But he’s too eager to take me out and not pacing himself like he should. Already he’s breathing hard and it’s just the start of the second round.

  I take my time to figure him out, planning each move, searching for that opening I need. Do I take a few bashes because of it? Sure. It’s part of the job. But believe it or not, it’s part of the job I look forward to.

  Those punches and kicks remind me that I still feel, that I’m still human. And that for now, I’m still alive.

  “Oh!” some drunk behind me yells when my uppercut finds Easton’s chin.

  He staggers back, swiping the blood oozing from his lip, yet he keeps his grin. He’s trying to make like it was a lucky shot. That it won’t happen again.

  Like me, Easton needs to win this match. And if he does, he’ll move up to the top ten, making him a contender for the UFC Lightweight title.

  Talent aside, the guy’s a raging asshole, and so are the idiots in his training camp. They’ve been trash-talking since the moment I agreed to this match. I didn’t really care and laughed most of it off until they got personal and took it a step too far.

  Again he nails me in the head. It’s not as hard as it was last time which tells me he’s getting tired. Does it hurt? I guess.

  But let’s say I’m a guy who’s used to pain.

  Easton grins. He thinks I’m afraid of him. He thinks he has me where he wants me. But fear is an emotion I don’t allow myself to entertain. Fear gets you hurt and rips you apart till you think there’s nothing left.

  I dodge out of reach. He scowls and takes another swing. This one gets close enough to my jaw to create a breeze that whips across my skin.

  “Finn,” my brother Killian barks from the side. “Take him out now.”

  He’s worried about me. So is my family. But now’s not the time to think about them. I keep my hands up as I edge away, letting Easton think I’m backing down, that I’m tired and need to catch my breath.

  I sidestep when he lunges forward, avoiding his next swing and use the momentum to drop my head and nail him in the temple with a roundhouse kick.

  Like I said, Easton’s fast.

  Too bad for him I’m a little bit faster.

  The kick is my signature move, as natural for me as the next breath. He goes down like I planned. But in the Octagon you don’t stop just because your opponent collapses like timber. You charge forward. You show him what you’re made of. And you prove just how tough you really are.

  That muffled screaming, isn’t so muffled anymore. The crowd loses their shit as I pounce, my blows nailing Easton in the face until the ref’s arms hook beneath mine as he hauls me off. I back away, my fists up because I already know I won.

  I should do a back flip or some
crazy shit to incite the crowd. This is it. My time has come to own it. But the good things aren’t as great as they can be. Not with the memories that haunt me. And not with the anger they stir.

  Killian rushes in as the medic wipes down my face. I’m bleeding from the punch Easton caught me with at the beginning of the round. I didn’t think it was that bad, but the way the ringside medic is pressing the towel against my head clues me in the gash isn’t closing like it should.

  “I’m going to have to stitch you up, Fury,” he mumbles.

  “I figured,” I tell him.

  Kill pats my back. “Good job,” he says.

  Maybe he believes it, but I don’t miss the concern in his voice. He thinks I took too many unnecessary hits. I can’t really argue, seeing how it’s true.

  He doesn’t understand that I don’t feel those strikes the way I should. Hell, I don’t think I’ve felt anything the way I should in a long time. Not like I used to. I try to tell myself that maybe that’ a good thing. That numbness is better than pain. But I’m not so convinced anymore, and neither is my family. I try to shrug it off like I’m fine. Except given the way they’ve been eyeing me, I’m not fooling anyone.

  I’m scaring everyone around me. And it sucks. Not only because I don’t want them scared, but mostly because I don’t know how to stop it.

  “The referee has called a stop to this match at two-minutes and forty-nine seconds into the second round,” the announcer begins. “The winner by TKO, Finn ‘The Fury’ O’Brien.”

  The crowd screams and pumps their fists in the air when my hand is raised. I take the few seconds I need to thank my sponsors, my camp, and my brother, because that’s what I’m supposed to do despite the fog clouding my senses. I wish that disconnect had something to do with all the hits I took, but deep down I know that it doesn’t.