by Yessi Smith
She moans, her lips part, and I’m an asshole for taking advantage when her head has to be boggled down with all of this. I no longer care about anything except the way she feels underneath me.
I have every right to kiss her as far as I’m concerned. She needs to let her guard down just a bit in order for me crawl inside and push out some of the hurt stored up that she didn’t give me a chance to help with when she needed me the most. It might cause more damage at first. I no longer care about that, either. I only care about her.
She doesn’t flinch when I snake my hand down her ribcage, bunch up her dress, and palm the bare skin of her ass. Suspected she was practically naked under here. Her ass was always an unquenched thirst I could never shake.
“Roman, this is wrong,” she whimpers.
No, it’s right. You know it, and so do I.” I rotate my hips as I press into her and lean my forehead on hers. I squeeze her ass one last time then slide my hand to her face. My thumb begins caressing the softness of her cheek. I want to kiss her again. Devour her. I want to inhale her fucking body. Take over her mind. Claim her more than I did years ago.
My voice is desperate when I tell her, “I know you never asked for any of this, Joslyn. I promise you, though, these people don’t care about anything but themselves. They thrive on this. They won’t give up until they either break you or have you losing control the way I did. I’ll lose my mind if you're not in my sight. If you go home, or even to work, they’ll hunt you down. Let me protect you, please?” Her eyelids flutter before she lets out a shaky breath and shakes her head.
I force myself to move off her when all I want to do is pull down my jeans, slide the garment that’s covering her pussy, and slide her down on my cock.
“I have clients who are relying on me. This is going to ruin my life.” Her upset voice pushes on my igniter, setting off a torpedo that aims straight for my heart. Shards of pain are cutting me deep. The last damn thing I want her thinking is any part of me will ruin her.
I wait in stunned silence for her to sit up, right herself, and smooth down her dress. She goes right back to staring out the window, moving farther away than she was before.
I want her with me the same as I did when I moved out here. The same as I did when she miscarried. I didn’t force her then when I should have, but I’m sure as fuck forcing her now.
Roman and Joslyn’s story continues on December 6th.
Click here to pre-order a copy today.
Also by Kathy Coopmans
Shelter Me Series
Shelter Me
Rescue Me
Keep Me
Contrite Duet
Contrite
Reprisal
The Syndicate Series
The Wrath of Cain
The Redemption of Roan
The Absolution of Aidan
The Deliverance of Dilan
Empire
The Elite Forces
Ice
Fire
Stone
Steele
The Saints
Riddick
Jude
Tyson
Standalones
The Drifter
Come Back to Me
About The Author
USA Today Best Selling Author Kathy Coopmans is a Michigan native where she lives with her husband, Tony. They have two son's Aaron and Shane.
She is a sports nut. Her favorite sports include NASCAR, Baseball, and Football. She has recently retired from her day job to become a full-time writer.
She has always been an avid reader and at the young age of 50 decided she wanted to write. She claims she can do several things at once and still stay on task. Her favorite quote is "I got this."
Rebel
By Molly McAdams
Maxon
I tuned out the other members of my band from where I sat, slouched low in the large, plush chair of our manager’s living room. The three of them going over the tour schedule our manager Jordan had just dropped in our laps while he looked on silently.
I didn’t care that he’d gotten us bigger venues than ever.
Or that he wanted us to play more shows in the same amount of time.
And I sure as hell didn’t give a fuck about how fast he’d scheduled us to move from city to city.
All that mattered was the tiny bar in an even tinier town at the bottom of the list, closing out the four-month tour.
Every tour was closed out in that bar.
The Jack.
The place where we’d first started out—sometimes playing for drinks or barely enough cash to keep our shitty apartment—and the place where Jordan had found us. Shortly after, he’d signed on as our manager and introduced us to a life we’d only ever dreamed about. He also became the only father figure any of us had ever had.
With our only family being each other, we’d left that town with no ties.
Except one. Mine.
A girl who was as wild as they come.
She lifted the shirt teasingly, revealing her bare ass. Glancing over her shoulder, she twisted her full lips into a smirk. “Catch me, and you can have me.”
There wasn’t a man alive who could lay claim to her heart. Not like that had stopped me from telling her for most our lives that one day I would—from planning a future with her again and again.
And then we’d left.
Whenever I could make it back to our hometown, I tortured myself by claiming her body for a night or two, knowing that was all we could offer each other for now. Knowing no one else would ever compare.
Every time I told her one day I was coming back for her and not leaving without her.
And every time she smiled that damn smile like she was enjoying the game we always played—that wild, free spirit shining bright and reminding me exactly what girl I was trying to hold on to.
I slid my phone out of my pocket and pulled up the messages to send off a new one to her.
Me: Gonna be busy for a while. Tour starting in two months. But I’m coming back for you, Rebel.
I’d just set my phone down when it vibrated against the arm of the chair with her response.
I bit back a groan when I saw the close-up picture of her biting on her bottom lip, and shifted lower in the chair before responding.
Me: Those are mine.
Libby: It’s cute how you think I’m waiting here for you or that you own any part of me.
The corners of my mouth twitched up in a smirk as I tapped out another message to her.
Me: I do, and you are.
Libby: Is that so? Guess we’ll see . . .
Libby
“What are you doing?”
I set the Moscow Mules on the wooden bar, flashing a sly grin at the man who’d ordered them when he left a hefty tip in their place. I made a show of slipping the business card he’d hidden under the bill in my pocket, then stuffed the cash in one of the nearly overflowing tip jars.
“I repeat: what are you doing?”
Finally letting my eyes shift to where my best friend had situated herself on a barstool, I gave her a dry look. “What does it look like?” I asked as I began making drinks for her and the rest of our friends—my family.
“It looks like you’re failing at avoiding someone.” Her eyes glinted with a tease. “Not that I’m disappointed.”
“Can’t avoid you when we live together, Einstein.”
She snatched a cherry from my station, twirling it between her fingers. “Was I talking about me? I don’t think I was. Then again, I think you already knew that because you’re not an idiot.” She placed the cherry between her teeth, smiling knowingly at me as she tore the stem out. “So . . . whatcha doing here?”
Instead of responding, I continued making the drinks for the people I knew wouldn’t be far behind her.
Einstein and I were too similar. If we wanted to know something, we didn’t stop until we had our answers. The only difference . . . Einstein was a genius—hence the nickname—and she usually alre
ady had all her answers. She just wanted the person to confirm them.
“Last I heard you were taking tonight off and staying far from The Jack and downtown.”
I slanted a glare at her but didn’t comment.
“Yet here you are. In the same lovely establishment a certain band is playing at tonight. A band a certain Max—”
“Someone needs to take home all the tips we’re gonna make tonight.” I sent her a smirk. “Might as well be me.”
Lie.
I had no doubt tonight’s tips would be better than I’d ever seen them. The Jack was overflowing with fans eagerly waiting to see Henley in the bar they’d started out in. But I wasn’t here for the tips.
I’d been at every one of Henley’s shows in this bar . . . and part of me couldn’t imagine being absent for this one. Another part swore I was standing tall because The Jack was my home and I refused to let any man run me from it. And yet, the biggest part was aching to know I hadn’t made it up—was begging to know it had all been real.
“When are you gonna let me give you my last name, Rebel?”
I raised my arms out wide, letting the breeze play through my fingers. “Told you I’m never letting a man tie me down.” A laugh ripped from my throat when Maxon grabbed my waist and pulled me to the ground with him.
He rolled on top of me and nipped my neck teasingly, his fingers racing up the inside of my thigh. It didn’t matter that we’d just finished not long before or that we were outside. We were somewhere no one would ever find us . . . and this was Maxon and me. We’d never been able to stay away from each other, and we only had days before he left again.
“I remember a few times you begged me to tie you down,” he murmured, his voice dripping with seduction.
My eyes fluttered shut, and my legs opened for him. “You know that’s not what I meant,” I said breathlessly when he pressed a finger inside me. “I don’t want to be owned. And you’ve never owned any part of me.”
From the laugh that shook his body before he kissed me, he could hear the lie in my voice.
Because he had owned me for as long as I could remember.
Heart. Body. Soul.
“And the show . . .?” Einstein asked, catching my attention again.
I lifted a shoulder and set the drinks on the bar. “There’s live music nearly every night. Tonight’s not any different.”
From the tick of Einstein’s brow, she knew I was lying.
Because it was different. It was so different.
Maverick slipped up behind Einstein and snatched a drink off the bar. “Are these for us?”
His identical twin squeezed into a space near Einstein and offered me a grin as he grabbed the wrong drink. “It’s like you knew we were coming.”
I pointed at Einstein. “I did. Clearly. And that’s not yours.” Taking the drink from his hand, I set it back on the bar and slid him his whiskey. “Where’s—” I looked up, a smile breaking across my face when I saw my brother, Dare, leading his wife toward the bar.
“This is insane,” she yelled to me once he had her pressed against the bar and was blocking anyone from getting too close to her.
“It usually is when they come back to town,” Dare responded, then looked up at me, concern shadowing his eyes. “How long has it—”
“Get me if you need anything else,” I called out quickly. But as soon as I turned to help more customers, Dare snatched my wrist and forced me to look at him.
He was younger by a few years, but he’d always seen me as his responsibility. At a young age, he’d been forced into a role no one outside our life would ever understand. He’d taken care of an entire family. Become a father figure and boss to many, and kept us together no matter the threat we faced. He’d kept me with the family no matter how many times I’d tried to rebel and run from responsibilities.
Except for the last six months. Nothing had been able to get through to me in that time.
I knew he was worried. Knew they all were.
There wasn’t a need to be. I’d be fine the morning Henley found themselves back on the road to California.
“How long has it been since you’ve seen him?” Dare demanded, his tone low and barely reaching me over the roar of the crowd.
I forced myself to stand naturally. Forced myself to stare at him like I had no idea who he could be asking me about.
My brother had an uncanny ability to detect when people were lying. It was unsettling.
“Seen who?”
Dare’s eyes narrowed on mine, his lips pressing together in a weak attempt to hide his grimace. And I knew in that short answer I’d already given myself away.
I turned when he released me but didn’t make it a step when he said, “Maxon.”
Maxon’s hand twisted in my hair and pulled until all I could do was stare above me.
My knees shook, and belly swirled with white-hot heat.
“Rebel,” he whispered in my ear, a plea and a question.
A ragged breath ripped from my chest, mixing with my whimper. “More . . . Oh God, more.”
Eight months and twenty-seven days.
I wasn’t counting.
I glanced over my shoulder and shrugged. “Why would I care?”
Lily’s smile was soft and understanding from where she stood in Dare’s arms. I knew he must’ve told her the entire story when he found out Henley was coming to town, and I hated him for it.
It wasn’t his story to tell.
I stilled when screams and yells started pouring through The Jack, crying out for Henley and its members.
Each time I heard his name called out over the rest, it was like a shock to my system and knife to my heart. Pride surged through me just as heavily as my bitterness, leaving electricity dancing along my skin and a sick feeling in my veins.
Don’t look. Don’t look, Libby.
And then he began, the bass leading them off and sending a rush to my core. Each deep chord he plucked worked through me the way his fingers had so many times before.
I reached out to steady myself on the back bar and hesitantly turned my head, keeping my eyes downcast until I could no longer stand it.
And there he was. Maxon James. Eyes locked on where I stood. Fury and possession streaked across his devastatingly handsome face, making my knees weak.
The rock star who frequented my dreams and haunted my sheets.
The boy who vowed to be my forever.
The man who shattered my world.
I hated him.
I gritted my teeth when emotions threatened to overwhelm me and lifted my hand in the air, flipping him off. Not waiting to see if he reacted, I turned and threw myself into making drinks for the next hour.
Refusing to look back at the stage.
“Libby, I love you.”
Acting like I couldn’t hear his voice mixing with the others.
“Your heartbeat will always be my favorite song.”
Pretending not to know every aching word by heart.
“Every lyric I write, I write for you.”
Accepting goodbye was already here.
“It’s gonna be you and me forever.”
Maxon
I stood there when we finished our encore, lingering a few seconds after the guys leaped off the stage into the waiting, screaming crowd of The Jack. I silently begged her to turn from where she stood like my own personal siren, my jaw clenched tight and blood buzzing.
When there was nothing, I unhooked and dropped my bass to the stage, ignoring the shocked gasps as I stormed off to the back of the bar.
After most shows, we all exited the stage to celebrate with just the four of us for a few moments. Reveling in the sounds of our fans screaming in the crowd as we took a shot and wondered still how this had become our lives before we ventured into the chaos of paparazzi and eager women and parties. But not at The Jack.
We played. We jumped off stage so the guys could drink with the fans. And I slipped away with Libby to whatever secluded
place awaited us.
It’s how it had always been.
Then again, we’d never played a show here when she wasn’t waiting for me in the back before we went on. Even before the fame and money. Even before Jordan. Not one.
Until tonight.
And she’d flipped me off and fucking turned from me.
I stalked across the back room, my long legs eating up the distance too quickly no matter how often I turned. Until soon, the room felt too small, and I felt caged.
It’d been nine years since we’d left Wake Forest and Henley had blown up bigger than we’d ever imagined. And in those nine years, Libby had always been right here. Teasing me with kisses and touches and telling me she wouldn’t be waiting the next time. And I was fucking terrified next time had actually come.
A weight settled low in my gut, and it felt impossible to breathe.
I let out an animalistic roar, shoving my foot into a metal folding chair and sending it flying across the room.
I turned at the soft gasp that came from behind me, my eyes narrowing and body tensing when I saw the girl standing just inside the doorway. She was wearing shorts so damn short the pockets were sticking out. And I was pretty fucking sure the only piece of material under the leather jacket she was unzipping was a bra.
“So . . .” she began just as the zipper passed her waist. “You looked a little angry out there. I thought you might need someone to cheer you up.”
The guys would tell me not think. To finish tearing off the jacket for her and take her up against the wall.
But I wasn’t them. And Libby was out there with my goddamn heart.
“You thought wrong,” I responded, my tone practically a snarl.
She tilted her head teasingly as she shrugged the jacket off one shoulder . . . and then the other. Her lips twisted into a sensual pout. “Are you sure about that?”
