Fight for Me: The Complete Collection

by Jackson, A. L.

  She’d basically had my skin the color of a tomato since the second I’d mounted the top step to the second floor, with the games we’d been playing and the drinks she’d been plying me with.

  She’d said this celebration was for me, and I was damn well going to enjoy myself.

  Funny how she didn’t have to coerce me into that anymore.

  “Oh, I promise you, you’re gonna want this surprise,” she sing-songed as she leaned around my side and placed something on the table in front of me.

  Whatever Jenna was up to was met with a bunch of giggles and laughed whispers rippling all around me.

  Nikki nudged me in the side. “Oh yeah, you are definitely going to want this surprise. All of them. But I’m def taking one for myself. I am the orgasm fairy, after all. I totally earned one of those babies.”

  “Oh God, now I really don’t know if I want to see.”

  From across the table, I heard my mama’s distinct laughter.

  Mortified.

  Yeah. I was so going to be mortified. Still, I didn’t think I’d ever been happier about it in all my life.

  “Open up!” Jenna shouted, and I was groaning and bracing myself and simultaneously grinning like a fool when I peeled my hands from my eyes.

  Then I busted up laughing.

  I was right.

  Mortified.

  Because there in front of me were at least forty cupcakes.

  All of them speared with little stakes that boasted pictures of Kale’s face, the writing beneath claiming, “Sex on a stick.”

  “You didn’t,” I scolded.

  “Um . . . you know I did. With a little help from my new friends, of course,” she said, glancing at Nikki, Lillith, and Rynna, who kept busting up in fits of laughter.

  “Pass one of those down here,” Mindy, one of my old friends, shouted from the other end of the long table. “I want a taste of that.”

  It was a little surreal that I was surrounded by so many of the faces of the women who’d been out to celebrate Jenna’s birthday that fateful night nine months ago.

  And now, here we were.

  My life now looked so incredibly different.

  I’d known I was blessed at that time. No question about it. But it’d also come with a weight so heavy there were some days I didn’t know if I’d manage to bear it. Stand up under it.

  And now . . .

  Joy trembled all the way to my bones as I looked around at the faces smiling back at me.

  With a grin, I pointed at Jenna’s accomplices. “All of you are in so much trouble. Hand in those bridesmaid’s dresses.”

  Nikki gasped and pressed her hand over her chest. “Never. You know you love those cupcakes. I mean, look at all that delicious, creamy frosting. Don’t you just want to take a big ol’ bite?”

  Conspiratorially, she swatted at Lillith. “Tell her, Lillith. She loves them so much she’s over there squeezing her thighs together and shifting on her seat just looking at them. Mouth watering. Am I right?”

  Lillith sent her a teasing scowl. “Always trying to chase away the good ones, aren’t you?” She turned her attention to me. “Although, I guess we officially get to keep you.”

  I widened my eyes. “You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

  “Says the girl who just told us to pass in the bridesmaids’ dresses,” Nikki said.

  A giggle escaped. “Fine. You’re right.” I reached out and pulled the tray closer to me. “And I want them all. They’re mine. I need all the cupcakes.”

  “Oh no, greedy girl, those are for everyone. You don’t want to go and break Maw-Maw’s heart, now do you? After I went over there and got her hair done up real nice just for the occasion.” Jenna swung her attention to her grandmother who sat right next to my mama. “Right, Maw-Maw?”

  Her grayed eyes glinted. “Only reason I came was to get me one of those cupcakes.”

  My mouth dropped open in mock offense. “Watch yourself, Maw-Maw. I don’t share my man.”

  “That’s good, because I don’t share, either.” The deep voice hit me from behind.

  A shiver raced my spine, and this time, I really was pressing my thighs together. Trying to quell the instant ache.

  That’s the way I felt. Every moment of every day.

  This constant desire for a man who stole my breath and filled up all the missing pieces in my life.

  The one who stood by me. My support. My foundation.

  Because times weren’t always easy, and the fear in our lives could never be fully erased.

  But he was there to hold me up through it.

  “No, you don’t, Sir Bryant. Stop right there.” Jenna pointed at him. “No boys allowed. Get that perfect ass back downstairs where it belongs.”

  He shot her one of those heart-stopping grins. “Don’t get your panties all up in a twist. Just need to talk to Shortcake for a quick minute.”

  Jenna’s eyebrows rose so high they disappeared behind her bangs. “A quick minute, huh? That all it takes these days?”

  “Ouch . . . you really know how to hit a man where it hurts, don’t you?”

  Crossing her arms over her chest, she quirked a brow. “Oh, you can count on that.”

  Kale laughed. “I knew you were going to be all sorts of trouble.”

  His expression shifted into feigned seriousness. “It’s incredibly important I speak with Hope immediately. We have some important business to attend to, and it just can’t wait.”

  “Really?” she challenged.

  “Really,” he said, dropping those blue eyes to me, mirth swimming in their depths.

  Love.

  It burst from every cell.

  I glanced around at the faces grinning back at me. “Well, if you all will excuse me for a second, my fiancé has something important he has to say to me.”

  Kale wound my hand in his and helped me to stand.

  He started us for the glass partition accordion wall.

  From behind, we were hit with a barrage of Ooo’s and teases and taunts, a brown chicken brown cow shouted from Nikki, the little punk.

  She and Jenna definitely had to have been separated at birth.

  I dropped my head in an attempt to fight the rush of heat that flushed and burned and ignited.

  He sent me a smirk over his shoulder as he pulled me through the same gap he’d led me through that night when the only thing I’d planned on giving him was a single dinner.

  That dinner that had turned into my giving him my body. My heart. My life.

  The same way as he’d given me his.

  “Oh, Cowboy, I don’t know what you have up your sleeve, but I have a party I’m supposed to be attending. Same as you,” I whispered through the swell of euphoria that swept through me.

  Joy.

  I’d never known it could be quite so bold.

  Palpable as it surrounded us. Fortified by devotion and loyalty.

  He gripped my hand, walking backward as he faced me, watching me with one of those smiles that sent a scatter of butterflies flapping through my belly.

  Dominant and persuasive and sexy.

  There was my cocky boy.

  “Last time I checked, those parties were all about the two of us. Besides, I’ve got something important to tell you.”

  He spun me around then pulled me close in an exaggerated, impromptu dance, his arm wrapping around my waist as he tucked me against his body.

  His beautiful heart thundered, in sync with mine.

  A giggle slipped free, and I stared up at him as he swayed me in the moonlight that poured down from above. “Oh, yeah, and what is that?”

  He grinned, but his gaze was soft. “In two days, you’re going to be my wife.”

  I tucked my bottom lip between my teeth, struggled to play along. Because it still blew my mind.

  In two days, I would be Kale Bryant’s wife.

  “Hmm . . . I didn’t realize that.”

  He twirled me again. “No?”

  I shook my
head. “Must have slipped my mind.”

  “Slipped your mind, huh?”

  Vigorously, I nodded before I was yelping as he dragged me back into the far recesses of the balcony. Right back to that spot that had changed everything between us all those months ago. He hoisted me up and placed my bottom on the table before he plopped down in a chair in front of me.

  He gripped me by the outside of the thighs. “Do I need to remind you?”

  A tiny moan slipped free from between my grin. “Mmm . . . I think you might.”

  He shot forward and captured my mouth in a consuming, maddening kiss.

  Soft, plush lips and demanding, delicious tongue.

  Orange and whiskey.

  Smooth.

  All man.

  My head spun, and my body sang.

  Throbbing and needing this man in a way I’d never thought I’d need anyone.

  He pushed to standing, and I wrapped my legs around his waist then groaned into his mouth when he pressed his hard cock against my center. “Kale.”

  “Are you remembering yet, Princess?”

  “Almost,” I teased, the word both a giggle and plea.

  He kissed me deeper.

  Passion spiraling around us.

  A bind. A bond. Our commitment.

  “How about now?” I could feel his smile as he murmured against my lips.

  I pulled back so I could look at the defined curves of his face, a perfect silhouette in the shadows. Sobering, I brushed my fingertips across his lips. “I could never, ever forget.”

  A needy rumble echoed from his chest, all the playfulness gone when he kissed across my jaw and down my throat, words woven in the middle. “Couldn’t even stay downstairs for a few hours, knowing you were up here. Only thing I wanted was to get to you. Touch you. I can’t believe I’ve been given this. That in two days, I get to call you my wife. That I get to call Evan my son. Tell me this isn’t a dream.”

  I clung to his shoulders.

  Lost to this beautiful, beautiful man.

  His devastating body and his extraordinary heart.

  “I’m yours,” I told him.

  Wholly.

  Completely.

  “I still can’t believe it,” he murmured, edging back to look at my face as his words rode on the night.

  I took him by the face, my gaze locked on his kind, knowing eyes. “Believe it. I believe in us. I believe in you.”

  Kale had rescued me in so many ways. Filled up all the vacancies. Filled our home with laughter and love.

  With security.

  He’d worked with his attorneys to ensure Dane could never be a threat to Evan ever again.

  And somehow, miraculously, I had received a check for five hundred thousand dollars from the Gentry Trust at the finalization of my divorce.

  Almost the exact amount required to cover Evan’s emergency heart surgery and ICU stay, plus the debt I’d incurred when I’d made the choice to fight for my son. No matter the cost.

  I’d never asked for it, demanded it, my aim only to sever ties with Dane forever. But the truth was, it’d been a lifesaver. Another burden lifted. He’d never admitted it, but I somehow knew Kale had been the one who’d made that happen. How, I wasn’t sure. Honestly, I didn’t want to know. But I would be grateful for all my days.

  He set his big hand on the side of my face. “I love you, Hope. You are my everything. I can’t wait to share my life with you. With Evan. Grow our family. I never thought I would get this chance.”

  I drew in a staggered breath at the thought. I never thought I’d get this chance, either.

  Evan would always be enough.

  Kale would always be enough.

  It almost felt greedy to hope for another child.

  Still, that sacred place in my spirit bloomed with the possibility.

  But no matter how our family was shaped, I would cherish it.

  A tender smile fluttered across Kale’s lips and adoration moved across his expression. “I’ll never stop fighting for you. Working to protect you and Evan.”

  “I know that. I love you more than you know,” I whispered to him, searching him in the shadows that played and danced across his gorgeous face.

  “Princess,” he murmured, kissing across my jaw.

  “That’s queen to you.” I let the ribbing weave into my tone before the words softened as I ran my fingers through his hair. “You did say you wanted to be my king.”

  He released the puff of a chuckle at my neck, chills racing my flesh as he gathered me up.

  Held me tight.

  “You are my treasure,” he whispered.

  “And you are my forever,” I told him.

  My everything.

  And I would be the one to treasure every part of him.

  Kale had never come to the place where he’d accepted he’d saved my son.

  He would tell me it was my faith.

  My belief.

  My hope that had filled Evan with the strength to fight.

  And maybe that was okay.

  Because sometimes . . .

  Sometimes even hope needed a hero.

  And Kale Bryant?

  He was mine.

  The End

  III

  Lead Me Home

  Prologue

  I’d always wondered why people set themselves up for disaster. Why they put their heart on the line when they knew it would only be crushed. Why they led themselves toward the slaughter like blind, ignorant lambs.

  Willingly.

  I hurried down the short hall of my apartment toward the pounding at my front door. Somehow, I knew that was exactly what I was doing. Yet, there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop myself.

  A storm battered the walls, and the windows rattled with a low rumble of thunder.

  The door clattered with a fresh round of banging.

  The knocking felt a partner to the storm—violent and unyielding yet so utterly distinct.

  My heart rose higher in my throat with every pound on the wood. It was as if an accelerant had been poured directly into my blood.

  It was close to two in the morning.

  Someone showing up at this time of night—in the middle of a downpour, no less—should make me cautious.

  If I searched myself, I guessed a little part of me was afraid, but only because I was sure of who was on the other side of the door.

  He’d always been dangerous.

  Dangerous to my sanity.

  Dangerous to my heart.

  Obviously, none of that mattered. I was drawn to him anyway.

  Tied.

  Nothing more than an offering.

  I hoisted up on my tiptoes to peer through the peephole, and I sucked in a breath when I saw the tortured face pleading back.

  So gorgeous in its hardened, chiseled way. Wind gusted through the longer pieces of his dark-blond hair, his shirt soaked and clinging to his massive body from having to make his way through the deluge that pummeled at the roof.

  Quickly, I worked through the lock and yanked open the door.

  Chills flashed.

  A shockwave.

  All brought on by the sight of him.

  “Ollie,” I whispered, my spirit in an uproar.

  Neither of us would ever forget this date.

  It was the anniversary of the day his sister Sydney had gone missing.

  That was thirteen years ago, and in all that time, he had never come to me. As desperately as I’d needed him . . . as desperately as I’d known he needed me . . . he never came.

  He staggered in with a half-drained bottle of scotch clutched in his hand and kicked the door shut behind him.

  He dropped the bottle to the carpeted floor, and there was no time to contemplate the thud before he was stalking my way.

  Body massive.

  A burly, beautiful, beast of a man.

  I took a startled step back, sucking for the air his presence had stolen. Energy streaked through the room. Those big hands darted ou
t and captured my face in the same second his mouth captured mine.

  Lips and tongue and searing heat.

  Liquor kisses.

  My head spun and need blistered across my skin.

  He groaned in misery and released the words between the manic scourge of his mouth. “I need you, Nikki. Need you in a way I haven’t needed anything in all my life. Take it away. Fuck . . . please take it away.”

  If I could, I would.

  It was all I’d ever wanted to do.

  “Ollie.” His name was grief.

  Love.

  Regret.

  “I need you, too. I’ve always needed you,” I told him, the confession striking the air between us with the force of a bomb. Blowing through my tiny apartment. “Why did you wait so long?”

  It was a question that had him swooping me into the overwhelming strength of his arms.

  He kissed me as he carried me the few steps down the hall. He kissed me when he laid me down on my bed. And he kissed me when he murmured, “You are everything I ever wished I could have.”

  Desire blossomed in my body.

  Full bloom.

  So compelling it became its own beat, a thunder in my veins that rumbled as loudly as the storm that raged overhead.

  The scariest part was the way my heart sang with the hope of it.

  Because I had always belonged to Oliver Preston.

  The problem was, he’d never fully belonged to me.

  I owned his gazes. His protection. His regret.

  But he’d never allow me to possess his broken spirit.

  I knew it when he tore the clothes from my body and fumbled with his belt.

  I knew it when his pants and underwear hit the floor.

  I knew it most when he wedged himself between my thighs and his body met with mine.

  I gasped, and he cursed, and for a moment, it was only the two of us. For a moment, we weren’t just another casualty of that horrible, horrible day.

  Holding me, he moved in me. With me. He panted and touched and whispered, “You take it away. You take it away. You feel so good. So good.”

  His fucks were deep.

  Possessive.

  And somehow, painfully tender.

  Tears filled my eyes when he pressed his forehead to mine, and a confession fell from his mouth on a low moan, “I miss her. I miss her so much. When will it stop? When will this feeling ever go away?”