Bound to You: Volume 3
Copyright 2014 Vanessa Booke
First Edition
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, brands, media, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Copyright 2014 © by Vanessa Booke
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a 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.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Edited by: Carolyn Pinard and Kristen Grammar Lands of Sin Sisters Books
Sin Sisters Books Email: [email protected]
Formatting by ShoutLines Design
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
There are far too many people to thank when it comes to writing a book but here are just a few. To my husband, thank you for putting up with my weird moods. For always being flexible when I needed to stay home and finish a scene or chapter, and for letting me talk over my ideas with you, especially the naughty ones. You are my rock, and the best kind of man a woman would want to spend the rest of her life with. To my mom, thank you for encouraging me to follow my dreams. I love you so very much. To my dad, thank you for always being there for me. If I got my persistence from anyone, it’s from you.
I would also like to thank my beta readers: Anne Conley, Nelle L’ Amour, NJ Frost, Kristen Lands, Suzanne Keller, and Fabie Gutierrez. You guys are amazing! I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your help.
To my street team, thank you for being my cheerleaders. I’m so happy to have such amazing and interesting people on my side. I hope you guys enjoy this volume. I know you’ve been waiting long enough for it. ;)
My special thanks goes out to Jerilyn Martinez. You are a gem. I really appreciate you helping me get the word out about Bound to You, for creating teaser between your busy life, and for your unfailing love and adoration for Nicholas StoneHaven.
To my loyal readers, this one’s for all of you.
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
Copyright
Acknowledgments
Quotes
Prologue
Nicholas
Rebecca
Rebecca
Nicholas
Rebecca
Rebecca
Rebecca
Rebecca
Nicholas
Rebecca
Nicholas
Rebecca
Nicholas
Rebecca
Rebecca
Nicholas
Rebecca
Nicholas
Rebecca
Nicholas
Rebecca
Rebecca
Nicholas
Rebecca
Nicholas
Rebecca
Nicholas
Rebecca
Rebecca
Rebecca
Rebecca
Nicholas
Rebecca
Rebecca
Nicholas
Preview of Drawn To You
About the Author
“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”
― Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice
“I have for the first time found what I can truly love–I have found you. You are my sympathy–my better self–my good angel–I am bound to you with a strong attachment. I think you good, gifted, lovely: a fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my centre and spring of life, wrap my existence about you–and, kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one.”
― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre
“I ask you to pass through life at my side—to be my second self, and best earthly companion.”
― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre
PROLOGUE
Six Years Ago
“Fuck! I can’t get this stupid thing right,” my brother Alex roars as he tosses yet another sheet of paper away. For the past hour, he’s sat hunched over his office desk writing and re-writing a letter. Each time he grows angrier and angrier, flinging crumpled up sheets of papyrus paper across the room or over his shoulder. The floor is engulfed with beige little balls. It’s like he’s trying to cover the whole goddamn floor.
I watch him from the door as he wipes his ink-stained fingers across his forehead. He’s a mess of blue blotches, hands, face, neck, left arm and even his clothes. Physically and emotionally, he’s not much better. What is his problem? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this way.
“Do you need some help?” I take a cautious step into his room, hoping there’s something that I can do.
“No, Nick. I’m just trying to write Nina a letter.” Ah, Nina. The girl Alex has been chasing for the past year. At first they were just friends, when she and my brother met in college. They even graduated together. They've been friends since the first day they met at freshman orientation. I always thought they would end up together, but Alex never made a move, and neither did Nina. Then this past summer she got engaged, and Alex went ballistic. He’s never been much of a settle-down-and-marry-her kind of guy, but I think my brother’s finally realized that he could be that guy for her.
“Is there anything I can do?” I ask. I know there isn’t, but I feel like I should ask anyway.
“Actually there is one thing,” he says, turning toward me.
“Shoot,” I say, taking a seat on his bed. Alex pulls his chair over by me and sits so we’re face to face. He pauses, inhaling and then exhaling a long, overdrawn blow of air.
“One day, you’re going to love someone more than the fuckin’ air you breathe, and when that day comes, I want you to remember to tell her. Tell her the moment you realize you do. Don’t wait, even if you think it’s one-sided. Tell her anyway.”
“I will,” I say. The favor seems easy enough.
“Promise me.” A look of despair crosses my brother’s face as he reaches out and pats me on the arm. I know he wishes someone could’ve made him do the same thing.
“I promise.”
It's only been a few minutes since I left Rebecca's apartment and I'm already regretting leaving. I’m such a stupid fuck. This night is a fucking disaster, and it’s raining. I’m halfway down the block when I realize that there’s no way in hell I’m going back home. Fuck being a gentleman. I thought it would easier to let her go and give her space to think about things. Hell, I need space to think about things. Each time I’m near Rebecca, the desire to touch her, to drown in those curves, hits me like a freight train. That woman stirs something fierce inside me. Even her familiar green eyes leave me spellbound. God, those eyes. Tristan is right – it’s not just about the sex. Although, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t thinking about it every time Rebecca opens her mouth. That mouth has a way of bringing me to my knees.
I stop just beneath a street lamp as the rain slowly stalls to a light drizzle. White puffs of air rise from my mouth as I exhale. It’s cold as fuck outside, but I know that fi
ery assistant of mine could keep me warm. I should just go home, but I need to talk to Rebecca. It’s killing me not knowing what’s going on between us. I've never second-guessed myself, but now I'm second-guessing everything with her.
I thought I could avoid the complication of caring about someone; it’s not like I have the best of luck with the people I love. Love. There's that word again. I've carefully navigated my life to avoid that word, but there it is, knocking on my door, scraping at it, trying to claw its way through. One innocent kiss had a major fucking snowball effect; I never thought Rebecca would be my undoing. And now, here I am, standing in the middle of this fucking wet city, pining over the woman that was just supposed to be my assistant. Who am I kidding? Pining doesn't properly explain what I'm feeling at this moment.
I need to keep moving. I can’t just keep standing here, arguing with myself. What’s the point? Rebecca and I could never be together. At least not without some major fucking consequences. I could lose everything. But even money and a comfortable life don’t make up for the amount of pain I would feel if I lost Rebecca, she's special to me. There are times where she pushes my buttons and I just want to shove my cock in her smart little mouth, but most of the time she amazes me with her wit and personality. She’s fun to be around and her smile is infectious.
A sharp pain vibrates through my fist and I’m left with an overwhelming ache that spreads across my knuckles. I look down surprised to find them turning purple. I’m sure I’ll have some ugly bruises in the morning. Shit. I should be happy I didn’t break or fracture any of my fingers. They’re sore as hell, but I can only imagine what Tristan’s face must look like by comparison. Tristan. That fucker.
In all the years I’ve known him, I don’t think I’ve ever cocked him across the face. Sure, we fought occasionally when we were younger, but it was never anything more than wrestling. I have a feeling I’m going to have some explaining to do when Emily and my father see him. It’s not that he didn’t deserve what was coming. That kiss between Rebecca and him nearly killed me. I wanted to maul him, and then throw Rebecca over my shoulder, and stomp out of Riptide thumping my chest like some enraged, primal beast. There was only one consistent thought racing through my head – she’s mine. And I wanted to sear Tristan’s kiss off of her lips the moment he placed it there. I knew my best friend had something up his sleeve, but I never imagined he would be planning something like that. I should've known. I squeeze and release my grip, hoping the pain will subside, but it only grows stronger.
Maybe I should call him… I check my phone and grumble at the sight of Alison's name flashing across the screen. She's called three times, and now there’s even a text message from her.
Alison: Nicholas, where are you? We need to talk. Now.
I lock my phone and slip it back into my slacks pocket. It's getting harder and harder to pretend like everything is going to be fine. The thought of actually marrying Alison gnaws at me like a plague, but this all just seems like one really bad dream. I know I’m in denial, and the only thing that keeps me from panicking is that there's still time to sort everything out. There’s still some time to talk to my father and beg him to understand that his ideas about my future marriage are archaic, and the exact opposite of what I need at this point in my life. No, marrying Alison not even close to what I need in my life.
My phone vibrates in my pant leg and I know, without a doubt, that it's Alison again. She's persistent, and while I usually admire that in a female, I find it aggravating in her. I'm dreading the conversation that's bound to happen when I finally make it home. I know she’s probably pissed that I told her to leave without me, and I can only imagine what she must be thinking right now. I don’t want to hurt Alison, but I need to make her see that going through with this marriage is a mistake. I've made plenty of stupid decisions in my life, but this one would be monumental. I don't want to live the rest of my life with someone I don't care about. My father risked it all with my mother and he got burned, but he loved her. A feeling that I cannot conjure for Alison.
No, the one person who even comes close to evoke any feeling in me is the one person I shouldn’t have feelings for. When I’m near Rebecca, it’s like she sets my nerves ablaze. I can’t stop the rush of emotion the amazing feelings of sensory overload, like a shot of adrenaline coursing through me. I can’t go home tonight feeling the way I do. I want and need to see her. I have to see her.
I turn and make my way back toward Rebecca's building. I might be fucking everything up by doing this, but I don’t care anymore. I don’t fully understand what’s happening between us, but I do know that, whether we’re fighting or fucking, I want to spend my time with her.
Holy shit. What the hell is he doing here? Miles steps toward me, and I step back as if we're in some awkward dance. He cracks a smile, and the sight of it sends my stomach spiraling into a nosedive. I think drinking all of those Midori Sours was a really bad idea. I should've eaten something more substantial before drinking, because I can feel those same drinks trying to make their way back up. I watch as he slides his duffle bag off of his shoulder and lets it drop to the floor. I have to be imagining this, right? No, I'm not. He's standing here, plain as day, in New York City – waiting for me outside my apartment. Miles Storm, the man who tore my heart from my chest and carelessly tossed it aside. The memories of that day still give choke me a sick feeling that builds with each passing second that I stand here staring at him.
I find myself analyzing each detail in his features, as I try to process what I’m seeing. He looks the same, except his once familiar brown hair doesn't curl at the top of his collar anymore. It's cut short and combed forward in a messy wave. His honey colored eyes scan mine as he slowly saunters toward me. He’s going to touch me. The feeling of dread that washes over leaves my airway constricted. Breathe. I force myself to inhale and exhale slowly. I'm having a panic attack. He shouldn’t be here. Why is he here? He's so close I can almost smell the ocean breeze lingering on his leather jacket. My heart squeezes and I silently curse it for doing so. I hate that he still has an effect on me. He shouldn't matter. He doesn't matter. He's an asshole. I close my eyes for a moment, and chant the words over and over in my head until I can muster enough strength to take another step away from him.
I turn, but I’m too stunned to make an escape, and then I feel him before I hear him step behind me. He wraps his arms around my waist and he hugs me, crushing my back to his chest. The motion sends a wave of shock through me, and his embrace unleashes so many all-too familiar feelings inside me. I’m helpless, immobile, and physically exhausted all at once. His skin is warm, despite the obvious cold draft wafting through from the outside. His closeness and his touch used to make me feel secure and loved. Now, it's just another reminder of his betrayal. He didn’t love me enough. The smell of him fills my senses. It’s an earthy scent mixed with leather. I used to love the way he smelled.
Time seems to have gone by so quickly and yet it doesn't feel like it's been enough. They say time heals all wounds. No amount of time could make me forget how humiliating it was to find him with another woman, and worse, how she had laughed in my stunned face. The memory of Scarlett’s haughty smile ignites a fire inside of me. I wish I could punch her in the face all over again. It would be so worth it.
"NO! Let. Me. Go," I seethe, pushing Miles’s hands off of me.
"Becca, I missed you,” he whispers against the back of my head. I feel his lips graze my hair. He breathes me in and exhales me out. After several awkward moments, I think he’s going to reluctantly let me go, but instead he turns me and leans in to kiss me. His contact with my lips is brief, but it turns my stomach. I push away from him, trying to put several feet between us. At this moment, I don’t think 3,000 miles is far enough away for me.
"Why are you here?" I ask, pulling out my apartment key from my bag. I should just get inside and close the door. I don’t have to stand here and deal with him.
Miles stands there for several mom
ents, staring at me in confusion. "I came here for you." Bright red stains his cheeks as he shifts his stare past me at the apartment door. I watch as he swallows slowly. The silence between us is deafening. He digs his hands inside of his pockets as if to keep them from finding their way back to me. I've never seen him act like this. It's almost as if he's nervous. Miles nervous? He was never nervous. At least not with me.
"I didn't ask you to come," I blurt.
He nods his head in agreement, wincing at my tone. "I know, but I came here to tell you that I made a mistake. I took everything for granted. You. Us. Everything. And I'm sorry."
I let the words settle over me like dust before quickly shaking them off. I’m going to kill my mother for giving Miles my contact information. He found my apartment information somehow, and I have no doubt she gave it to him. My mother could never tell him no.
"Why now?" I ask.
"What?"
"Why. Now?" I say again.
“I realized I made a mistake. What we had was special. After you left I kept hoping you would come back. I didn’t want you to leave. I called your mother almost every week asking to see how you were. I knew you wouldn’t answer my calls if I called your cell. I called your office a few times, but you were always out, and I was always too afraid to leave you a message. It wasn’t until I saw your picture in the paper that I knew I needed to come out here.”
Bound to You: Volume 3 Page 1
