by Pam Godwin
“It’s complicated.” The despair in his eyes hardens. “Trust me, I would’ve been here if I could.”
“No, that’s not good enough. You ruined us, and I need to understand why!”
His jaw flexes, and his brows dig in. I know that determined look. He wants to touch me, comfort me with his body, and he’ll hold me down if he has to. I brace for a struggle.
He steps toward me, shoulders squared, and halts at the sound of the back door opening behind me.
Trace.
Sharp pain stabs through my chest, stopping my heart. The world around me stands still, holding its breath. This is happening, and I can’t stop it.
My past and my future.
My first love and my second chance.
Two hearts from two separate lives colliding helplessly, cruelly together.
Cole’s furious gaze snaps over my shoulder. “What the fuck?”
His face turns red-hot, eyes wide and agonized, expressing all the nuances of shock as he watches a man step out of my house at six in the morning.
I turn my neck as Trace disperses the fog with his slow approach. Shirtless, clad in pajama pants, he stares at Cole with an unreadable expression.
My stomach feels rock-hard, my throat strangling in a fist of dread. I inch backward, reaching a hand toward Trace.
“You’re with him?” Cole thrusts a shaking finger at Trace, teeth gnashing. “Are you fucking him?”
“You died.” My whisper is tormented, torn from the darkest hours of my life. “You weren’t here.”
Trace stiffens beside me, and I rethink my answer. I’m with Trace. I’m sleeping with him because I love him.
I open my mouth to explain, but Trace speaks first.
“You’re late.”
Three and half years late. I can’t breathe beneath the debilitating shock.
Cole’s alive.
He’s been alive all this time.
And he didn’t come home.
Trace laces his fingers through mine, squeezing painfully hard. “You told me to take care of her.”
A chill slithers up my spine, and my blood turns to ice. “What did you say?”
Cole stands a few feet away, biceps bunching as he scrapes his hands over his head repeatedly. “You weren’t supposed to make contact.” His expression contorts between devastation and rage. “I told you to watch over her, not fuck her.”
They know each other. Trace fucking knows Cole and never thought to mention it?
I yank my hand from his and wrap my arms around my shaking body. “How do you know each other?”
“We used to work together,” Trace says in a hollow voice.
“Auditing for the government?” I gape at him, silently begging him to tell me this is all some kind of joke. “You own a casino. I don’t understand. Why didn’t you tell me you knew him?”
He and Cole share a look, communicating something that’s beyond my realm of understanding. Or rather, beyond my security clearance.
The deployment in Iraq. The silence at the government building. The fake funeral. The removal of tattoos.
“You’re not an auditor, are you?” I ask Cole on a thin breath, shaking from head to toe.
“I can’t say, Danni.” Cole doesn’t remove his glare from Trace.
“You lied to me.” My skin tingles, and disorientation sweeps through me as I turn to Trace. “You lied, too. You knew Cole and never told me.”
More tears fall, and I bury my face in my hands. I need to step back. I need to think.
“What is that?” Cole rushes forward and grabs my wrist, his eyes zeroed in on the engagement ring. “No.” His whisper crashes into a pained guttural noise. “No, no, no!”
He yanks his arm back and stumbles. Every visible muscle in his body goes taut as he spins away and paces like a caged animal, shoulders heaving, hands stabbing through his hair. The tortured sounds coming from him threaten to bring me to my knees.
When he whirls back, he looks absolutely destroyed. “You missed me so much you fucked my best friend? And now you’re what? Getting married?”
Best friend.
How deep does the deceit go?
My shoulders curl forward, wracked by an onslaught of grief and betrayal.
“I didn’t mean that.” Cole rushes toward me and frames my face with shaky hands. “I’m not upset with you. I put you in a terrible position and kept things from you. I had no right to expect you to wait around for a dead man.”
The ache in his voice crushes me, and I feel his terrified pain as if it were my own. Because I never stopped loving him.
None of this is my fault, and he knows that. He’s raging and losing his shit for one reason. The woman he loves is engaged to someone else.
“How long, Trace?” He lowers his hands and claps his gaze on the silent, brooding man at my side. “How long did you wait before you preyed on her?”
“He didn’t prey on me!” I stand taller. “I worked at his casino for four months before we got together.”
“Three years.” Trace shifts beside me, his tone calm and steady. “I was in love with her for three years before I made contact.”
Three years? The ground spins beneath my feet.
“She started dating,” Trace says. “I did exactly what you wanted me to do. I kept the men out of her bed.” His voice hardens. “Which I would’ve done anyway because I love her.”
Anger boils through my veins. I could easily direct it at both of them, but I bare my teeth at Cole. “You disappeared for over four years. You died! And you didn’t want me to find happiness again?”
Cole turns away, a hand splayed over his mouth. His posture coils tightly, and he releases a low growl, full of warning.
Before I can blink, he spins around and slams a fist into Trace’s face.
Trace falls back but remains on his feet. As blood trickles from his lip, he doesn’t move to wipe it away. With his arms at his sides and his expression blank, he shows no signs of fighting back.
Cole, on the other hand, rears back his arm again.
“Stop!” I ram a shoulder into his rigid body, causing his strike to hit air. “You were dead! You had no claim on me!”
“You thought I was dead,” Cole seethes, flexing his fists at his sides. “But Trace knew.”
My mind spins as the last six months tumble into a new light.
What would your fiancé think about the dipshit you were with tonight?
I’m not going to fuck you.
It’s just not in the cards for us, sweetheart.
If Cole was in this room right now, where would I fall? Would you shove me aside to get to him?
Trace chased away every man who came near me. He purchased the restaurant I danced at. Set my schedule so I never had a weekend off to date. Refused to date me himself. Pushed, pushed, pushed me away, all while being overly-fixated on my attachment to Cole.
Because he was watching me for Cole. And at some point—long before I met him—he fell in love with me.
Under the malicious waves of comprehension, it dawns on me. The set up with Marlo wasn’t to hurt me. It was a last-ditch attempt to stop himself from stealing his best friend’s girl.
Only it didn’t drive me away. None of it did. Because I love him, too.
My heart sinks beneath an impossible realization.
I love two men, and they’re both here, staring at me with the kind of desperation that destroys a person.
“You knew Cole was alive?” I whisper and lift my gaze to Trace.
Heartache drains the light from his beautiful blue eyes. “I knew there was a chance.”
ONE IS A PROMISE is only the beginning.
The Danni-Trace-Cole love triangle continues with:
TWO IS A LIE
CLICK HERE
THREE IS A WAR
CLICK HERE
CLICK HERE
Two lies.
Two men who don’t share.
I never stopped loving Cole. Not when he left
me. Not when he disappeared for three years. Not when he crashed back into my life in a violent explosion of testosterone and fury.
His sudden reappearance questions everything I thought I knew, including how I came to love another man.
Trace is an intoxicating breeze of seduction over ice. My rock. My second chance at forever.
And he’s committed to annihilating the competition.
The battle that ensues wrenches me back and forth between them.
Fighting and fucking.
Resisting and submitting.
Together, they entangle me in a web of lies, rivalry, and desire that weaves as deeply as their devotion to me.
I love two men, and if I can only have one, I choose none.
CLICK HERE
Three means war.
Three sides vying for forever.
Cole.
My first love.
The bad boy with the dangerous smile and passionate temper draws attention like a lit fuse on dynamite. But his dark molten eyes spark only for me.
Trace.
My second chance.
Over six feet of Norse god in a tailored suit, he calculates every move and seizes my hungry breaths with an iron fist.
Me.
The free-spirited dancer, torn between two men with no resolution in sight.
I tried leaving, staying, refusing, and surrendering.
What options do I have left?
I love two men, and I do the only thing I can. I fight.
DARK ROMANCE
DELIVER SERIES
Deliver #1
Vanquish #2
Disclaim #3
DARK PARANORMAL ROMANCE
TRILOGY OF EVE
Heart of Eve (FREE)
Dead of Eve #1
Blood of Eve #2
Dawn of Eve #3
STUDENT-TEACHER ROMANCE
Dark Notes
ROCK-STAR DARK ROMANCE
Beneath the Burn
ROMANTIC SUSPENSE
Dirty Ties
EROTIC ROMANCE
An Infidelity World book
Incentive
Dangerous Woman by Ariana Grande
Cupid Shuffle by Cupid
Try by Pink
Hips Don't Lie by Shakira
Stay by Rihanna
We Found Love by Rihanna
One More Night by Maroon 5
Down by Marian Hill
Talk Dirty by Jason Derulo
XO by Beyoncé
Criminal by Britney Spears
Dancing On My Own by Calum Scott
Say You Won't Let Go by James Arthur
Close by Nick Jonas & Tove Lo
Shape of You by Ed Sheeran
Get Lucky by Daft Punk
I’m humbled and grateful every day I write, every time I publish a book, and every moment I share with the reading community. Bloggers, your endless support is a gift I will always cherish. Authors, I’m touched beyond words by your friendships and invaluable advice. Readers, my heart smiles through your messages, reviews, and reassuring cheers. Beta and proof readers—Lesa, Brooke, Shea, Ellie, Ketty, Beverly, Jillian, Ann—you have no idea how much your help means to me.
There are so many little and big ways the book world makes a difference in my life. My goals aren’t to become wealthy or popular or trendy, but I do aim to succeed. For me, success is defined by my proficiency of the craft. I want to write at my greatest potential. I hope to write stories that aren’t just read, but are read over and over again. I want to learn and continue learning the art of storytelling until I write the kinds of books that inspire authors to master their own craft.
You—bloggers, authors, and readers—give me the courage to pursue my goals. You set the bar high, raise expectations, and demand greatness. You push me to do better, to dream bigger, and you support me every step of the way.
Thank you for reading my stories amid the millions of amazing books out there.
Thank you for being my cheerleaders.
Thank you for knocking me off my feet.
I will keep thanking you and thanking you, because I appreciate you so much.
Lots of hug-filled love,
Pam
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author, Pam Godwin, lives in the Midwest with her husband, their two children, and a foulmouthed parrot. When she ran away, she traveled fourteen countries across five continents, attended three universities, and married the vocalist of her favorite rock band.
Java, tobacco, and dark romance novels are her favorite indulgences, and might be considered more unhealthy than her aversion to sleeping, eating meat, and dolls with blinking eyes.
EMAIL: [email protected]
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