Fighting Lust: A Deadly Sins Novel

by Jennifer Miller

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Fighting Envy

  Fighting Envy Excerpt

  Fighting Wrath

  Fighting Wrath Excerpt

  Copyright 2016

  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. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, bands, and/or restaurants 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.

  Cover Designer: Robin Harper, Wicked by Design

  Formatting: Elaine York, Allusion Graphics, LLC/Publishing & Book Formatting

  Cover Model and Photographer: Darren Birks

  “The Desire of Love is to Give; The Desire of Lust is to Take.”

  – Edwin Louis Cole

  To my street team, Miller’s Killers - thank you for all of your support.

  “I love you, Ryder,” she whispers and I strain to hear her.

  “I love you, too. Why are you whispering?”

  “I’m so sorry,” she continues as if she didn’t hear me at all.

  Her small meek voice sets me on edge and I grip the phone harder. Something’s wrong. I can feel it. “It’s okay,” I tell her soothingly. “Just come over like we planned. You’re late. Where are you anyway?”

  “Know that you made me happy,” she slurs. “You caused me to have moments where I totally forgot about it all. It’s because of you.”

  My hand is throbbing now from my grip on the phone, but the pain pales in comparison to the sensation I feel when my stomach drops from her words. My breath catches on her name and I struggle to say what I’m feeling. An ache begins resonating and escalating in my chest with each passing second.

  “I’m sorry. I tried. Please forgive me,” she begs.

  “There’s nothing to forgive. Where are you? I’ll come to you.” I’ve already grabbed my car keys, ready to walk out the door.

  “Goodbye, Ryder. Be happy. For me.”

  I scream her name, but hear nothing. Pulling the phone from my ear, I see my home screen, indicating the call has dropped. Pleading with my car to get me there quickly, I impatiently and repetitiously push the button on the remote, then fumble to get my keys in the ignition; my hands now trembling. As I put the car in gear and peel out of the parking lot, I frantically try to call her back. Each, and every time, the connection goes immediately to voicemail. “Baby, call me back right now. Please.” My breath comes in pants, the hair on my arms stands on end, and a deep tremble takes over my body, as fear engulfs me.

  “Fuck!” Slamming my hand into the steering wheel as the light in front of me changes to red forcing me to stop, I use the time to try to call her roommate. “Come on, come on,” I whisper to myself as the phone rings. She may be mad at me for getting her roommate involved, but I don’t care. She can be mad at me all she wants, as long as she’s okay. She’s scaring the hell out of me. A small moment of relief displaces a bit of the fear when her voice comes on the line, “Hello?”

  “It’s Ryder,” I get straight to the point, not wasting time on pleasantries. “Have you talked to her or seen her in the last few minutes?”

  She stumbles over her words initially, not expecting my abruptness. “What do you mean? I’m not home.” I hear movement and the background quiets with her next words. “I mean, we spoke earlier when I stopped at home, but I was in a hurry. Why? What’s going on?”

  “Something’s wrong.”

  “Why do you say that? What happened?”

  “She called me and it sounded like….”

  “Like what?” she asks.

  “Like she was saying goodbye.”

  “Goodbye?”

  “Was she okay when you saw her?” The light turns green and I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I feel a little less tense knowing I’m moving toward her again.

  She pauses for a moment, but it feels like a lifetime. “I don’t know… I mean, I guess now that you say that…there was something off about her. I asked if she was okay, but she didn’t really answer me. She did tell me that I’ve been a great roommate which was kind of weird, but I just laughed, told her the same, and ran out the door.”

  I exhale harshly, and my foot comes down on the gas harder. “And that didn’t tip you off? Make you take two fucking minutes out of your self-described ‘busy schedule’ to talk to her and find out what she meant by that?” My anger and harshness with her reflect the fear that’s gripping my heart. Taking a deep breath, I try to calm myself, regretting my words, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m just worried. I’m on my way to her place right now.”

  “I’ll meet you there,” she says before she hangs up.

  While driving, I repeatedly try to call her again, and again, with the phone on speaker. The call never connects to her personally. Her sweet voice rings out in my car over and over telling me to leave her a message. Giving up, I throw my phone in the seat next to me.

  I should have known. I should have known confronting the biggest nightmare of her life would make her spiral out of control. She said she was okay, said she was managing it and even stated it was easier than she thought it would be. Shouldn’t I have known she was lying? I wondered how it could be true, but I guess I wanted to believe her so badly, that I took her at face value. Forced myself to take her word for it. Big fucking mistake. Shouldn’t I have seen the truth in her eyes? Did I look hard enough? Did I want to see it?

  Pulling into her parking lot with a squeal of my tires, I throw myself out of my car and barely register slamming the door closed behind me. Running up the walkway, I leap up the stairs, taking two or more at a time. I’m panting and can hardly catch my breath as I step up to her door, but it isn’t from physical exertion. The door is locked, so I use my key to get in, not bothering to knock. It’s dark and eerily quiet inside. A feeling of uneasiness crawls up my spine, making me shiver.

  “Babe,” I call out. “It’s me. Are you here?”

  As I rake my hand through my hair, my eyes roam the living room, then the small dining room and attached kitchen – there’s no sign of her. Suddenly, my anxiousness increases as I walk slowly with tremulous steps, my breathing resonating in my ears. I pass the empty bathroom, and my steps - cushioned from the carpet - halt as I reach her bedroom door just across from her roommates. Pushing it open, I jump slightly when the d
oor creaks.

  Immediately reaching for the switch and snapping on the light, I blink several times before I’m able to focus clearly. Seeing her form on the bed, I run to her side, tripping over something in the way, and fall to my knees on the floor. Scrambling back to my feet, when I’m at her side, I become aware of the bottle of pills clutched in her hand. Shaking her I desperately cry, “Wake up! No! Don’t you dare do this. You promised me! Please, don’t leave me!”

  Her body is slack and gives no resistance.

  Placing my head on her chest, I don’t hear a heartbeat. Beginning compressions, I count them off in my head, and try to breathe for her, all the while hoping desperately that I’m not too late. I have no idea how long I try to bring her back to me before I call nine-one-one. Reciting her address and answering questions when prompted, tears fall in silent rivers down my cheeks as I’m told help is on the way.

  Reaching out and taking her hand in mine, I’m startled by how warm her body feels.

  She looks peaceful.

  Like she’s sleeping.

  But, she’s not.

  Without warning, I vomit at the side of her bed. My hand trembles as I swipe the back of my hand across my mouth. In the back of my mind, I hear the apartment door slam and the thud of feet running down the hall. My head spins as a loud, desperate scream resounds in the room around me.

  My alarm goes off. I raise my head just enough to acquire line of sight to my cell phone and squint one eye open, looking at the device buzzing and ringing on my nightstand. Reaching over to grab it, I half roll onto the soft body next to me. After I turn the alarm off, I nearly collapse on my spot, allowing my head to slowly conform to the comfort and warmth of its prior location from where it was so rudely awakened – snug on a soft pair of huge tits.

  Just as I settle in, quietly sighing as I assume a comfortable position, the other warm body behind me, wraps an arm around my waist, and places a cheek on my back. Her hands begin wandering down my body exploring each sinewy muscle for yet another time and I close my eyes at the enjoyable sensations caused by her touch. Perhaps I have time for one more tumble with Tina and Tara…shit… or is it Tanya and Talia? Whatever. It doesn’t matter, it never does.

  As I let myself begin to get aroused and caught up in the pleasure, I suddenly remember why my alarm was set in the first place. As the fog lifts and awareness hits, I work to untangle myself from their long thin limbs and get out of bed. Enjoying the view of their bodies one more time, with an apologetic grin, I look down at them, “Sorry, ladies. As much as I enjoyed our time together and would love to entertain you once more, we’ve got to wrap things up.”

  They harmoniously groan and one pouts her lips and begins to sulk like a disciplined child. Instead of feeling turned on by the sight and their desires, I feel a twinge of irritation. “Come on, Ryder. Just come back to bed,” the one with the mole above her lip suggests.

  “Yeah, Ryder. We promise to make it worth your time. Please,” the pouty one adds with a sinful smile.

  It has no effect on me. “Nope, sorry. I’ve got somewhere to be. I need you two beauties to get dressed and to find your way safely home.” Their car is parked outside having followed me home, so it isn’t like I’m leaving them to fend for themselves. One of several lessons learned along the way, always make sure hook-ups drive themselves so they don’t need anything else from me when I’m ready to dispose of them. I certainly don’t want to ever have to worry about bringing one of them home. Harsh, maybe, but true none the less. And effective.

  They eventually get out of bed, but not without a ridiculous amount of coaxing while they continue whining. I do my best to breathe deeply and count slowly while they get dressed. I’ve already thrown on jeans and the first shirt I could find on my floor that didn’t smell. Tapping my foot, I impatiently wait for them to get the fuck out. It takes all I have not to start giving them a round of applause as they’re finally walking toward the door. Instead, I put on my best smile and hold the door open for them as they leave.

  “Give us a call some time,” one smiles as she hands me a card with her number on it. I nod, but make no promises. I’m rarely interested in a repeat act. Once they’ve spread their legs in my bed it’s adios for good.

  One stands on her tiptoes to kiss me on my cheek. I allow this but am grateful when I see a figure walk up behind them. In harmony yet again in their sing-song voices, they chime, “Bye, Ryder,” but I’m too busy smiling at a grinning Cole. I’ve already dismissed them. They each eye Cole curiously as they walk by, and Cole doesn’t hesitate to get an equal eyeful of them as they pass.

  “Two? Seriously?” He asks looking back at me wide-eyed while shaking his head. Shrugging my shoulders, I gesture for him to come in. “I don’t know how you do it man.”

  And I hope you never do, I think to myself. But to him I say, “What can I say? It’s a gift.”

  Cole walks to my refrigerator and takes out a bottle of water while he waits for me to put my shoes on and place my gym clothes in my duffle. We live in the same building, which is pretty cool. We work out at the same gym and even though his MMA fighting coach, Jerry, requires him to train with him at a different location, we still go to our pal Jax’s gym every morning when we can. The facility is great and meets all of our training needs.

  “Where’d you meet these ones?” he asks curiously.

  “Why? You want to go there tonight? Better yet, why don’t we go together and I will teach you a few things. Show you the ropes.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t need your help,” he laughs. “I do just fine on my own.”

  Standing up and grabbing my bag, I laugh, “Hey, I’m not suggesting you don’t bro. Just happy to spread the love, that’s all. I mean, what are friends for?”

  “Oh, well thank you so much.” He says, but I don’t miss the sarcasm. Smirking at him as he walks past me to leave, I follow him and lock the door behind me.

  We make our way around our apartment building and to the street and begin our walk down the road to the gym. The gym’s located in a popular redeveloped area downtown. We walk through the historical downtown district first, followed by various stores and restaurants before we get to the gym’s location. The neighborhood is a well-populated area and I enjoy the energy and atmosphere that it generates. I love living here. Especially on the weekends and when the local university is in session. The area has grown a lot since I moved in a few years back. The fact that it’s not far from the gym is a nice bonus.

  My phone dings loud in my back pocket and I take it out, half listening to Cole talk about some TV show he watched last night followed immediately by comments about the muscles he’s going to focus on today. Glancing at the screen, my brows raise at the suggestive text that comes in from a private number I don’t recognize. “How about we go for round two?”

  Cole, looking over at the phone, stops in midsentence, laughs loudly and pulls the phone out of my hand, eyes large at the sight of the big tits on the screen. “Holy hell. Who is this?”

  Shrugging my shoulders, I can’t help but laugh at his open-mouthed stare. “Don’t know, she doesn’t say.”

  “How do you not know? And how does this girl have your number?”

  “Dude, I have no idea how these chicks get it. Other than to a special few, I don’t pass it out at all.”

  “They probably share the number like candy.”

  “Could be,” I rub my chin, “I can see it now.” Gesturing through the air like a neon sign appears before us, I picture, “‘For a good time call…’ or maybe it’s even straighter to the point, ‘Anyone looking to get laid? I can hook you up.’ Although, if I had to guess, I bet it says, ‘Call for the best ten inches of your life.’”

  Cole rolls his eyes and grins, but his smile quickly falls, “You seriously think women talk like that? I mean, about sex… with details?”

  “Why? Are you scared about what they’re saying about you?”

  Cole stops in the middle of the sidewalk and a c
ouple of people that were not far behind us stop suddenly to prevent a collision. Muttering an apology, I raise my brows at Cole. He’s silent, but he’s staring off into space, clearly thinking hard. I give him a moment more, then finally laugh at him when I realize this is going to take longer than I thought. Blinking rapidly at my laughter, he looks at me first with confusion, then with a scowl. “Cole, if you think that women don’t talk about details, then you’ve got a lot to learn my young grasshopper.” Placing my arm around his shoulder, I command, “You shall now be my understudy.”

  “Get the fuck off of me dude,” Cole pushes me off of him and we laugh the rest of the way to the gym.

  When we’re inside, we make our way to the locker room and find Zane, Levi and Dylan there too. “What’s up fellas?” Levi asks as he bounces on the balls of his feet. The guy is always in motion, I swear. His nickname should be Tigger. Sometimes, I get a headache just watching him.

  “Levi, where’s the fucking fire dude? You’ve been bouncing non-stop since you got here.” Zane asks.

  “I had an energy drink this morning. Did you know they make all flavors of those things? I’d never had one before. I think it’s making me hyper.” We all look at each other as Levi turns to flex his muscles in the mirror and admire them, and smile. He’s always frenetic, but today he seems off the charts. He can’t stand still. “I’m practically shaking, I’m so pumped! What should we work on first? Who wants to spar with me? I’m going to kick your ass!”

  “Fuck, man,” Dylan curses. “An energy drink is the last thing you need to be drinking. God knows you have enough energy as it is on a daily basis. What the hell were you thinking? You can’t tell me you actually thought you needed more energy, because if so, something is seriously wrong with you.”

  “You mean something else is wrong with him, right? Because this is just one item on a long list. ” Zane chimes in.

  “Screw you dude,” Levi adds with a nice middle finger salute. “Someone at work was talking about them the other day, so I thought I’d try one.” He shrugs as if this should be obvious and explains everything.