by Chelle Bliss
“Oh no, I totally fucked her. My first.”
Cara wrinkled her nose, muttering something low and offensive in Italian before she went back through the box, and I said a little prayer, grateful I’d convinced her to move back to Seattle to raise our baby. New York was a fine city, but it wasn’t home, and God knew there were too many criminals flitting in and out of her father’s home, even through the museum, to keep my mind clear of worry over her and the baby.
I shook away the thought of the life we could have had in New York and just watched her. God, she was beautiful. Her skin glowed, actually glowed, and I wondered if it was supposed to be that way. Did all pregnant women look that luminous? That beautiful? Was it hormones, or was it just sheer happiness that lit them up from the inside?
“What…” She pulled out the stack of letters, frowning, holding them in her lap so she could flip through them. They were labeled with her name but not addressed. “What is this?” she asked, holding up the thickest letter among the stack. “My name is on all of these.”
“It is,” I said, slipping closer to her. I fingered the corner of one yellowed envelope, then leaned back on my palms, watching my wife as she kept that frown hardened the more she fanned through the envelopes.
“When did you write them?”
It was embarrassing to admit, but there weren’t any secrets between us. You didn’t fall in love with a mafia princess and get away with keeping secrets. There were things I knew about her family, her father, thanks to the long conversations we’d had working on his anonymous real-crime biography, that would scare the most violent of thugs straight. Cara knew as much as I did. I knew the things she’d sworn she’d never tell a soul. This would be no different.
“When I got back to Seattle.” I shrugged, not bothered by her surprise. “If you want to read them, you can. But I gotta warn you, there’s a lot of anger and hurt in those letters. I hated you for a long fucking time.”
Cara’s face fell as she watched me, and the grip she held on the letters loosened the longer she stared, blinking, likely recalling everything we’d said and done and wanted for our lives before she got scared and I got stupid.
“I…I don’t think I wanna read about how much you hated me.” She closed her eyes, dropping the letters as she rubbed her face. “I’m sorry I…”
“Baby,” I said, stopping the apology before she could finish it. “I got shot at for you. I beat some asshole bloody for you, so did my brother and Dale. Hell, I married you twice and have spent hundreds of hours listening to your father talk about the shady shit he’s done in his life.” I pulled her close, draping one of her muscular legs over my thigh. “Monumental things, remember? Every one is for you.”
“Kiel,” she whispered, pulling my face close to take my lips. Her mouth was firm, and the seductive graze of her skin on mine made my chest constrict. Cara never failed to seep down inside me and squeeze my heart—in the best possible way. When she pulled back, soft fingers still against my face, my wife exhaled, giving her head a small shake. I didn’t know what she thought or what she wanted, but there was something sweet, something determined, glinting in her eyes.
“Monumental,” she repeated, running her thumbs over my cheeks. “This is it, isn’t it?”
“What?” I asked, holding her hand in place when she tried to move it away.
“Our forever.” She motioned around the room and to the small swell of her growing stomach. “You, me, and him. Is this it?”
“Yeah,” I told Cara, pulling her close. “This is the forever we’re making. It started a long time ago.”
“When you came back to me?” she asked, leaning against my chest. She played with the loosening collar of my T-shirt, and her warm breath flirted against my neck.
“No, baby,” I said, kissing her forehead. “Forever started the first day I saw you.” It had been in her modest office with the chestnut desk. There’d been a small mug of espresso in the center of that desk and nothing else. “You didn’t stand when I walked into the room, but you smiled at me, and that was enough.”
Cara sat up, watching me, her eyebrows pushed together and a faint line working between her eyes. “Enough for what?”
Head shaking, I brushed back the damp hair from her forehead and spent a few long seconds kissing her lips, never wanting it to end. “You. Me, Goddess,” I said, smiling at my beautiful wife for the monumental things we’d done and the greater one we were working toward. “You and me and forever.”
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Thank you for reading TIED DOWN. We hope you loved Cara and Kiel as much as we do!
Don’t worry… There’s MORE to come. Johnny and Dale are too hot to not write their stories too! Want to know when their stories release? TAP HERE and SIGN UP for a release alert notification.
* * *
If you loved Kiel, you’ll love his alpha older brother who’s good with his hands in NAILED DOWN.
Kit Carlyle isn’t just some woman. Beautiful? Yep. Seductive? Damn straight. She’s also my best friend and my co-worker. But, hell, I’m a guy with a pulse. Every once in a while, I take a look and think filthy things about her that maybe I shouldn’t.
But when her cousin dies and leaves her with a long as hell and sexy bucket list, Kit turns to me for a helping hand. What can I say? I’m a sucker for a woman in need. Besides, I’m damn sure not about to let another man steal away my girl, occupy her bed, or fill my shoes.
But as the stakes get higher and the items become hotter, I’ll have to face the toughest challenge of all: admitting I want more than Kit’s friendship. I want to make her mine.
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Turn the page to read a preview of Kane’s story…
PREVIEW OF NAILED DOWN
“It’s why I’m here.” I hid the smug grin I wore behind my coffee, telling myself it wasn’t stupid to feel like a chump for making the woman happy. I liked when she was happy. Mainly I liked being the man to do the job, but that shit came from somewhere I didn’t bother thinking about. No need to imagine things when I knew the truth: Kit Carlyle was my friend, but fuck, did I want to be a helluva lot more than that.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she admitted, and some stupid, ridiculous thing in my gut went all wobbly. But if Kit noticed the break in my composure—and the quick blink of my eyes and a long, slow sip from my mug to keep me from saying something stupid—she didn’t mention it. Instead, she looked around the cabin, nodding a greeting to Gin when she smiled as she moved past us before I felt another nudge on my arm. “I need to run something by you.”
“Such as?” But she went all quiet again, out of character when Kit wanted something, enough that I turned to watch her, eyebrows shooting up when she cast a look all around, looking damn guilty or stupid nervous. I couldn’t tell which. “Something up?”
“Well, it’s just that I need…”
“Hey, Mr. Storm…” The intern started laughing at himself before Kit stepped back, clearing her throat as though she didn’t want this little punk to know she was about to say something only for my ears. That just pissed me off.
“You see me standing here speaking to someone?” I asked the kid, tilting my head to glare at him. He nodded, then looked to Kit as though she might tell him it was okay to interrupt us. But the woman’s attention was on her phone when she took it out as a distraction. I snapped my fingers, bringing the kid’s attention back to me. “Go. Away.”
“Look, Kane…” But Hipster didn’t get a chance to bug me any further. Dale approached, taking the kid’s shoulder to turn him, then gave the boy a gentle shove to lead him back toward a stack of 1x4s. The saws started up after that, and I nodded toward the door, getting Kit to follow me out of the cabin and down the driveway until we were at my silver F-150. She hopped right in when I opened the door for her, curling her arms over her chest as though she were frozen solid. The woman was always cold, no matter the temperature, and always bitched that I never ran the heat in
my truck.
“All right,” I said, my head shaking at how she blew on her fingers like we were in the Arctic and not in a small wooded area intersected by Copper Creek. “Jesus.” Then I flipped on the heater and moved the vents toward her. “Now. Whatcha got?”
“Oh.” Kit went a little shy on me, way out of character, and I forgot about everything else but the small slip of fear that started crowding my head. This woman never shied away from telling me what to do or what she needed and the fact she wouldn’t look at me put me on edge.
“Hey,” I said, leaning over my steering wheel and moving my head toward her, trying to catch her attention. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing… It’s just…” She exhaled and rubbed her eyes. I could make out the frown behind her hands when she scrubbed her face, and for some reason, that bullshit worry grew more intense. Finally, through a long breath, Kit looked at me straight on, licking her lips like I’d seen her do a thousand times. That shit meant trouble. I’d seen it firsthand. That slow, preparing for battle lip lick meant shit was about to get twisted. “Kane,” she said, squaring her shoulders, “I need you. I need only you.”
Fuck me, I was in trouble.
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ABOUT EDEN BUTLER
Eden Butler is an editor and writer of Romance, SciFi and Fantasy novels and the nine-time great-granddaughter of an honest-to-God English pirate. This could explain her affinity for rule breaking and rum.
When she’s not writing, or wondering about her possibly Jack Sparrowesque ancestor, Eden impatiently awaits her Hogwarts letter, writes, reads and spends too much time watching New Orleans Saints football, and dreaming up plots that will likely keep her on deadline until her hair is white and her teeth are missing.
Currently, she is imprisoned under teenage rule alongside her husband in Southeastern Louisiana. Please send help.
WEBSITE – edenbutler.com
READER GROUP – https://bit.ly/2kzMnsf
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ABOUT CHELLE BLISS
Chelle Bliss is the USA Today bestselling author of the Men of Inked and ALFA P.I. series. She hails from the Midwest but currently lives near the beach even though she hates sand. She's a full-time writer, time-waster extraordinaire, social media addict, coffee fiend, and ex-high school history teacher. She loves spending time with her two cats, alpha boyfriend, and chatting with readers. To learn more about Chelle, please visit her website.
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Acknowledgments
Eden Butler’s Acknowledgements
Thank you to Chelle, who is bossy and blunt and freakin brilliant. I love you so much.
Thank you to my Saints & Sinners, my ARC group and beta readers, and to all the blogs and reviewers who have helped to support my stories. You’re encouragement is immeasurably appreciated.
Renita McKinney—you’re baller as hell and I love you. Curtis is good people too!
Thanks to my friends, my nieces and family who continue to love and support me even when I don’t have a couple of hours to visit or drink wine or do the things normal women do because I’m usually on a deadline. Who am I kidding? There’s always time for wine.
As always, thanks to my Bints, especially Judy, Amy, Angela, Leighenne, Yaara and Shannon for the beautiful friendship we’ve shared for the past fifteen years. It means more than I can say.
And to my family, Barbara Blakes, Marie Anderson-Simmons, Kalpana Singh, Sarah Cooper, and Sherry Jackson, and to my girls, Trinity, Chelsey, Faith and Grace, our Lil Moon Baby Jax and my forever love, Chris, thank you for never failing to lift me up or love me when I don’t deserve it and for never failing to make me feel like the luckiest woman alive. I love you all!
Chelle Bliss’ Acknowledgements
Thank you to Eden, who puts up with my bullshit like nobody else. You handle my bossiness like a champ and roll with the punches, soaking up everything I say. I’m not always right. HA! There… that’s in print forever.
Thank you to my reader group — Chelle Bliss Romance Hangout and the ladies in Bliss Buzz for helping to keep me motivated. To my betas and ARC readers…thank you for always being there for me.
To my readers — Your words of encouragement are appreciated more than you’ll ever know. I can’t thank you enough for loving my characters. I write for you as well as myself.
To my family — thanks for loving me. To my friends — thanks for loving me.
To Lisa A. Hollett and Julie Deaton, thank you for making my words, which are sometimes a hot mess, and making them readable and grammatically correct. You ladies are my rocks.
I don’t know what else to say and I probably forget dozens of people, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t valuable. Every person in my life is part of my journey and I thank you for always being there for me.
