by CC Monroe
Table of Contents
Other Titles
Dedication
Trigger Warning
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
Epilogue
Bonus Epilogue
Acknowledgement
About The Author
Copyright © 2020 by CC Monroe
Edited by Kayla Ro
Cover Design & Formatting by Juliana Cabrera of Jersey Girl Design
All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage or retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic, photocopying, mechanical or otherwise, without express permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, story lines and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, events, locales or any events or occurrences are purely coincidental.
Other Titles
Always and Forever Series
Always The One
Always Us
Forever The One
Forever Us
Loving Series
Loving Ben Cooper
Loving Kate Bennett
Aurora Rose Reynolds
Happily Ever Alpha World
Until Kayla
Until Mercy
Until Brew (Coming Soon)
To the souls who once loved the untouchable. Who damaged themselves trying to save others.
May you release and set free, to go on and find your new happy.
TRIGGER WARNING!
This novel mentions drug use, drug abuse and other sensitive topics.
Please read at your own discretion.
Thank you and enjoy the ride.
Prologue
“I love you, Eric. Please.” I writhe under him, his skin warm, his body defined and sculpted into the perfect rock-star physique. We’ve been together four years today, and I wanted tonight to be different. Maybe the start of the year in which he will love me back—love solely me.
For four years, I’ve shared him—unwillingly, but willingly all at the same time. I was never forced to stay, but I never wanted to leave. I wanted to stay and be his, to tame the bad, and rope in the unattainable, because I do love him. But I’m not too proud to say I’m foolish. So damn foolish.
“You don't come, baby. You’ve been bad, so fucking bad,” he growls above me.
I want to bring my hands down to touch his face and connect with him tonight, but this is impossible with my hands cuffed to the headboard.
“How? I haven’t. Please let me come!” I cry, heavy tears trickling down the sides of my face. I’m hurting, because he withholds my pleasure and himself from me, and it all abruptly devitalizes me.
“No, you get to walk around wound up until I think you deserve it. Now shut your pretty little fuck-me lips and take what I give you, princess.” With a few more thrusts, he comes right as I’m fighting through the agony and strangled need to come.
“Oh fuck. Tell me you’re my dirty little mess.”
I hesitate, just for a moment, before I give in meekly—surrendering to my shame. “I’m your dirty little mess,” I whisper weakly and obediently, ashamed of who I am as a woman, lying under this fucked-up man. I go numb, and my heart stays frozen, broken once again—another night, another day, another year it sits broken.
Chapter One
Kate
“Sadie, Melody is going potty! Come here! Hurry!” I yell from the doorway of the bathroom downstairs of my best friend Sadie's home. We’ve been friends since she moved to Portland with her family when she was sixteen. Today, we are still the best of friends at twenty-three, which is a testament to many people’s sanity. Sadie and I are yin and yang, yet she’s the Lucy to my Ethel.
“I’m coming.” I hear Sadie bounding down the stairs.
“She’s pooping on the big girl potty,” I state as she closes in on us. Melody glances up at the doorway, her little smirk blossoming into a giggle when Sadie all but slides across the floor into the bathroom.
“Oh, baby! Good job. Mama is so proud of you!”
I chuckle at the sight in front of me, watching as she pulls out her phone and calls her husband, Ben, on FaceTime.
Ben and my boyfriend, Eric, have been band mates for just shy of seven years, in the rock band The Roes. Eric is lead guitarist, and regardless of how much turmoil he can cause, he’s a damn good one. Ben is the front man, proudly, and his ego is big enough to show it. Sadie and I met them a little over four years ago, and her psychotic self married Ben faster than I had time to blink or change a pair of underwear. Seriously, I’ve never known anyone but those two who married after only one month of knowing each other.
But if I’m being honest, I envy those two. Ben is currently three years sober, off drugs and alcohol. Little Melody Grace is about to be three years old, and Sadie is still living for her faith. They have the perfect family, the picture of an ideal life and a love untouchable by anything.
Then there’s Eric and me. The couple who have a one-sided love tainted by everyone and everything. He’s been abusing drugs since the age of fifteen, and now, at twenty-six, he’s into even harder stuff and using more and more. Don't get me started on the women he lets into our relationship.
Alas, the worst part of me is knowing this and staying. Falling in love with him was easy; falling out of love with him was just as easy, but staying just so I’m not another someone who walked out of his life is self-destruction. But with Eric, it’s like kryptonite, a twisted knife yet a bittersweet touch. When it’s good, it’s incredible. But when it’s bad, it’s nearly unbearable.Still, at some point, I fell out of love, and I thought that would be enough to leave, but he needed me—God does he need someone, anyone to just stay and be there. And I’m the martyr who took on that role. I’ve spent years manipulating myself into thinking I owed Eric this, that it was something I had to do. But do I? I don't know anymore.
In trying to heal the unfixable, we lose ourselves in the downfall. Don’t get me wrong; it almost worked a few times. Eric has straddled the line of monogamy and sobriety a few times, and when that happened, it was great. The good outweighed the bad, but the good couldn't outweigh time. Eric always fell back on his clutches. Inevitably, the good couldn’t even shield the bad. It became all we ever were. Toxic.
It’s not a sense of maybe it’s my own fault that I’m broken. It is an absolutely my fault type of thing as to why I’m this way. I don't need to blame him. I stayed after so many times of being let down. Add in the self-loathing and crippling dislike for anything about me, and you have a nice head case in a white jacket.
I hate the way I look, no longer finding my long blonde hair and green eyes those of a wild gypsy, as I once did. No longer seeing my slim body as thin enough, or my natural C-cup
s as big enough, or my laugh as vivacious enough. I’m a broken mess, and I really have no one to blame but myself. I despised women like me. Hell, I still do. But here I am—pot meeting kettle.
But there’s something in me that always justifies his behavior, a guilty part deep down inside with my own burning, acidic secret.
Eric may touch others, but I dream of others, and in some worlds, that is worse. In some worlds, me dreaming of Nick is far unholier and darker than the physical bodies that lie underneath Eric. I only say this, because something that is far deeper and more intimate than sex is emotional and mental stimulation and connection. Sleeping with Nick would only be physical, but dreaming of him is him owning my mind, my energy, my soul, and there is nothing more intimate than a man stealing your thoughts and sacredness.
Nick Amerson is the one who often creeps into my mind when I want a touch of something I can’t have. Eric’s manager. Eric’s friend. Everything off limits. This doesn't stop the want though; in fact, it fuels the flame.
“Ben, baby! She’s going big girl potty!”
Melody giggles and claps, Sadie pulling me from my wayward thoughts. “Daddy, I go big girl potty!” Melody shouts.
“That’s my little angel. Good job,” Ben says, and the boys in the background all join in and cheer, her own little support team of badass rock stars acting like putty in her hands. The image is enough to lighten my heavy mood just a bit.
We finish helping her use the restroom then head into the kitchen, while Mel goes back to playing in the living room, shutting us out as usual.
“Ben, I’m gonna hang up now. Kate is here,” Sadie tells him as we settle at the table.
“Hey, chump,” I tease.
“Hello, Kate,” he answers, unfazed by my everyday banter. “Hey, have you seen Eric? He never showed today. This is his third time missing studio time. We really need him to lay down the guitar tracks if we’re going to get this album out before our next tour.”
I cave in on myself, my heart rate slowing and my chest aching with familiar awareness that we have been here too many times before. I often have to find excuses for Eric and defend him like a pearl-clenching mother, and it’s become old really fast—but I’ve said that for years now. “Oh, no, he told me he was coming. He left at noon.” I drop my head, trying to push back the lone tear that will turn into unbroken streams if I don't control it. Eric lied, and there are only two things he could be doing. Drugs or other women.
“Yeah, he didn't show up, Kate. Nick is on his way over to your place to check if he’s there. He’s gonna rip him a new asshole.”
I nod and hurry to stand, knowing the drill and taking my cue. “I’ll head there and meet him, just in case. Keep them from killing each other. I really don't think he’ll be done yet.”
Everyone goes eerily and awkwardly silent after those words leave me. Sadie and every person in our life, including the band, knows the way Eric lives, and it’s embarrassing that I stay. They must think I’m some pathetic, self-conscious woman with no respect for myself.
“Sounds good. Let me know if there’s anything I can do,” Ben offers, and I give a silent thanks, nodding.
Sadie briskly says goodbye then stands. “I’m sorry.” Her blue eyes cut like glass, round and filled with sorrow.
“Don’t be. It’s my life and my choice. Sorry we couldn't have girl time. Rain check, Sister Christian?” I try to cover my pain with humor, and she entertains it, knowing the routine all too well. In all honestly, my mind is already obsessing over Nick and the fact that he’s on his way to Eric’s. Those two are the worst of enemies who have to tolerate each other, and I don’t want to have to break up another fight.
“Yeah, of course. I’ll see you later.”
“Mel bug, come here and give me a goodbye hug,” I call out from the front door. Little feet pitter-patter across the wood flooring before she clears the corner and jumps into my arms.
“Muah! Love you, punkin.”
“Luh you, Auntie.” For a brief second, her sweet, innocent voice warms my aching heart. She’s just like her mother, blue eyes and blonde hair, but somehow, she got a light smatter of freckles like me.
“Call me tonight if it’s really bad.”
I nod. If anyone understands what’s happening now, it would be my best friend. Sadie went through similar issues with Ben. He might have been faithful, but he was into drugs—however, not as dark and deep into the pit Eric wallows in.
“Yeah. See ya.” Waving bye, I climb in my car and head back to the desolate apartment I share with Eric, with no idea how intense this round will be.
§
“Nick. Hey.” Coming to the top of the stairs on the third floor where our apartment is, I see Nick sitting there waiting for Eric. Instantly, those feelings in me—the arousal peeking around the corner—spikes, my heart rate jumping up a few notches. I have always admired Nick in a passionate way. Who wouldn’t? There are bevies of women, and I’m that fish out of water. Sure, he's attracted to me, but who wants to jump into anything with this tragedy?
“Hey, Kate, how’s it going?” His kind green eyes accented with the barely there wrinkles of a forty-four-year-old welcome me. Nick is Eric's tour manager, and over the years, we have created a friendly, flirtatious, and an emotionally desirable yet forbidden relationship. More than often, he’s my defender when Eric gets too out of line, and more than often, I find myself lost in sexual tension and desire for my savior.
He stands over my 5’8” frame at 6’1”, his beard the same color as his sandy-blond hair, and his green eyes catch the light of the setting sun. He is covered in intricate tattoos from words to tribal art all the way to portraits of family. For a man in his mid-forties, he doesn't look a day over thirty-five. He’s handsome, a little roughed up from his younger harsh life before the one he lives now, but rugged and experienced.
“You here to lay into Eric?” I smile, though there’s nothing humorous about this. Like I said, this is a pattern he's privy to.
“Yeah, and to see one of my favorite people.”
I blush, his simple comment turning into a compliment in my dazed and lusty mind. I have always found Nick attractive, and he has given me my fair share of butterflies. But I don't dare admit to anyone that he has haunted my dreams and enticed me there erotically in ways I’ve never experienced in reality before. We may openly flirt, and that’s one thing, but he has no idea how he consumes my mind.
“Eric probably won’t show. If he didn't go to the studio, you know that means he's on a binge. Probably won’t see him for days.” I focus on the door handle, unlocking it with shaky hands.
“He doesn't deserve you, Kate,” Nick says behind me, his front inches from my back. The air suddenly turns thick, the mood shifting quickly. I can feel him in my space, even without a touch. His words were whispered but had the same intensity of a kick drum. These right here, they’re the moments we teeter on the edge of forbidden, and it happens every time. I have to regain control of the situation and focus on why we are both here. With great effort, I bury that comment as if it wasn’t said. I have to, not because the greater part of me wants to, but because it’s the right thing to do.
“I know. Let's just hope he’s here.” I say this, but do I really know what I deserve? I mean, what kind of woman stays?
I let us into the apartment, and he goes silent as I settle myself in, removing my jacket and shoes. I’m standing barefoot in the middle of our living room in my white strapless sundress when I peer up at him, catching his eyes on me.
They’re intense, a stormy green with a purpose to make me question him.
“What?” I tuck my blonde, curled hair behind my ear.
“Nothing, you just look exhausted. I’m worried for you, Kate.”
“So I look like shit?” I chuckle, a little insulted. He didn’t want to ease into it?
“No, it’s just you haven't been like you lately. I can’t remember the last time I saw you genuinely smile or fucking take char
ge of a room.”
He and I both. “It’s been a while, I guess.” I think the last time I truly felt like the once vivacious life of the party was the first year Eric and I got together. It was fun then, the start of what I was hoping would be my happily ever after, but it was really the start of my happily never after.
“Kate. Come here, talk to me. I’ve fucking been there.” He sits on my couch, referring to his ex-wife and their even more troubling marriage. Nick used for years after he got married at just eighteen. He and his ex never worked out, and one time when he was so far gone on a trip with drugs, he ended it then, putting her in the hospital after roughing her up.
Nick has been sober twenty-three years, and even now he can’t shake that past, can’t rid himself of the guilt.
“How the hell do I leave, Nick?” I finally break, crying in front of him as I sit next to him, because the weak are dependent on everyone. Sadie is too happy in her life and already fought this battle. My parents disowned me after I refused to leave Eric, and I have nothing and no one left. But in the small living room of my apartment, I have another broken soul here to fall apart on.
“You can’t fix him, Kate, and one day, he may go too far. He could hurt you, bring something home from the other women, hit you, or get you all fucking mixed up in his shit and put you in harm’s way. I don't want that.”
He stands, and I process everything, my mind not as fast as his actions and words. He comes to me, pulling me up by my hips and dragging me into his soft yet solid wall of skin and muscle.
“You need to release yourself from his hold. His teeth are too deep in you, Kate, and his bite is leaving a permanent scar.”
“I wanted to love him back to health.”
“You can’t expect to love him, when you can’t even fucking love yourself, kitten.” He calls me kitten like he always has, and I feel owned by him in this brief exchange. And God does it feel good to feel owned by someone worthy. Nick is an incredible man, regardless of his past. In fact, maybe even more so because of it.
