“Emily,” his deep voice rumbles.
Biting my bottom lip, I lift my chin. “Sheriff,” I whisper.
His lips twitch into a small smile, he shakes his head once and takes a tentative step toward me. “Told you to call me Robby,” he says, his voice smooth like fresh cream butter.
My breath hitches when he takes another step toward me, then another until his hat hits my belly and that is the only thing that separates us. His dark brown eyes look down into mine, his lips part slightly and they silently beg for my mouth. I resist the temptation. It’s hard, but I resist.
“Why are you here?” I whisper.
He tilts his head to the side, his eyes roaming over my face. “Been coming once a week, every week, for months,” he points out.
“Why?” I ask again.
His lips slowly curve into a smile. “You ain’t figured that out yet?” he asks.
I could guess. If I did, and I was wrong, it would kill my ego. He couldn’t though. He couldn’t like me like that. He’s here because he’s a nice guy, because he’s a good guy. He’s here to make sure the crazy bitch doesn’t hurt anyone else. That’s why he’s here.
“You’re a nice guy. You want to make sure that I’m okay, and you want to make sure that I don’t come back to town, that I don’t hurt anyone else.”
He winces. It wasn’t the answer he wanted. I take a step back, looking to the ground, then back up to him when I feel his fingertip run down my arm. The sensation sends a chill over my entire body. I want more than a simple touch, I want his rough fingers all over me.
“I’m not that nice, Emily,” he grunts.
“Robby,” I whisper, saying his name.
It feels foreign on my tongue, but I like the way it sounds. I also like the way his nostrils flare when I say it aloud. I look up at him, expectantly, waiting for him to do or say something else. Instead, he takes a step back, he looks down at his boots, then lifts his gaze back up to meet my own.
“I’ll be back next week. You look really good, Emily.”
Without another word, he turns from me and I watch him walk away. I watch his ass in his tight blue jeans that flare just slightly over his boots. His thick thighs, his trim waist, and his broad back. I wonder why. Why is he here? Why does he come here? Why does he give a shit about a worthless piece of trash like me?
ROBBY
My phone rings as I start my pickup truck. Before I answer, I look back at the woman standing on the front porch. In any other circumstance, I would think of her as just a girl, but Emily isn’t a girl.
Emily is a woman.
She’s been through more shit than any one person should ever have to endure. Yet she has, she’s healing, and she’s still standing strong—strong and goddamn gorgeous.
Sliding my thumb across my phone’s screen, I shift the truck into drive and ease out onto the street.
“Hello,” I greet.
“It’s Chelle,” my sister announces on the other end of the phone.
Inwardly, I groan. My sister has been a pain in my ass since we were kids. Then she pulled some stupid assed shit with Beaumont Griffin years ago and I’ve never gotten over it, he hasn’t either. I’m glad she hasn’t come back to town; she needs to stay far away with her loser of a husband.
“I know who it is, saw your number on my phone,” I grunt.
She lets out a huff of air, obviously annoyed with me. I don’t much care if she is. I know that she only calls when she wants something. Beaumont might still be angry with her, but he dodged a goddamn bullet.
“Thinking of leaving Charlie. Can I come and crash with you?” she asks.
Rolling my eyes, I roll up to the stoplight and let out a breath. “No,” I firmly state.
“No?” she screeches.
“You call Mom and Dad?” I ask.
She huffs. “You know they said no.”
I don’t know, but I suspect that they told her absolutely not. Like me, our parents are over her shit. She’s been drama, a headache and a pain in the ass since she was a kid. I think my parents thought that she would eventually grow out of it, she never did. Her antics just get progressively worse as she grows older.
“You wanted to marry him. You caused a huge problem, and you cost me someone I thought of as a friend. So, no, I’ll not open my home to you.”
“You’re such a dick. You’ve always been a dick,” she screeches.
Gently, I press my foot against the gas and continue down the road once the light turns green. Chelle is screaming about how I’m an asshole, but I ignore her. In fact, I decide to end the call and toss my phone onto the passenger seat of the truck.
Fuck her.
She wants to be a raging bitch, she’s not my fucking concern. Not anymore. I had to watch Beaumont deal with the aftermath of her bullshit years ago. I vowed to be done with her then, and I am. She’s my sister, and I’ll always love her, but I don’t have to like her.
Chapter Two
ONE WEEK LATER
EMILY
This week, I wait for him on the front porch. I wonder if he’ll come, but I don’t have to wonder for long. Like clockwork, his pickup truck pulls up against the curb. He turns his head, his eyes finding mine behind his glasses. I can feel my skin heat when he looks over at me. I watch, my breath hitching when his lips turn up into a smile.
His door swings open, he climbs out then slams it closed. This little house is one that I share with three other women. All women like me, with issues. All women that have questioned me a million times about our relationship. All women that drool over him every time he shows up. I don’t blame them, I drool over him too, except I do it quietly, inwardly.
“Emily.” His deep voice vibrates as he jogs up the short steps.
“Robby,” I murmur, my face feeling hot and no doubt turning bright ass red.
He doesn’t skip a beat or miss a step as he moves to sit down right next to me on the porch swing. My breath hitches when he immediately takes my hand in his, lacing his fingers with my own. My eyes glance down to our intertwined hands, then lift to meet his.
“This okay?” he asks. Biting my bottom lip, I nod once. “Good. I plan on doing more, but we can start with this.”
“Why?” I ask, yet again. I don’t expect him to answer, but I suck in a deep breath when he does.
“Why not? You’re beautiful. Your smile makes my heart stop. And the look in your eyes, when you finally relax and that tension leaves. When you look at me the way you do, my dick goes rock fucking hard.”
“Robby,” I breathe.
“Or when you breathe my name. I imagine you saying it just like that when I’m inside of you.”
I shake my head, my eyes closing, and I inhale through my nose. His fingers release their grasp on mine and slowly travel up my arm until they wrap around the side of my neck. Slowly, my eyes open and I look over at him.
“How can you want me?”
“How can I not?” he asks, leaning a bit closer toward me.
“You saw me, naked, abused, used and yet, here you are.”
Robby’s head jerks back, his eyes narrow and he shakes his head once. “I saw a woman who had been manipulated her whole life. A woman who didn’t know her worth. Are you that same woman?” he asks.
I respond immediately. “Absolutely not.”
“I didn’t think so. I see a survivor. I see beauty that has risen from the ashes of her past. I see a strong, independent, beautiful woman who deserves to be loved.”
Gulping, I lift my chin, looking down my lashes at him. “How can you see that. How?” His fingers drop away from my neck and he slowly stands. “Where are you going?” I practically plead.
“Until you can see what I see, this can’t go any further than sittin’ on the front porch,” he says, his voice sounding so sad that my heart cracks a little.
Without a word or a glance back, he walks away from me. He drove over an hour to spend less than ten minutes on the front porch with me. I don’t unders
tand him. But I want more of him. More time, more touches, and I want to know what he sounds like when he comes. I want it all.
ROBBY
Every day that passes is excruciating. I want her. I want all of her. I don’t know why she’s the one that I crave, but I don’t question the way that I feel. I’ve never had a desire for another person be this strong in my entire life.
Not even my first love, I’ve never felt this way about anyone. That is why I keep going back, week after week, that and the fact that every time I see her, she stands a little taller, her eyes a little brighter, and her smile a little more real.
It’s becoming harder and harder to walk away from her, especially now that I’ve made it no secret that I want her. Watching her mouth part in surprise, practically begging for my kiss, fuck. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to hold back, to keep from kissing her, from claiming her as mine.
As soon as my truck hits the first stoplight in town, my cell rings. Picking it up from its resting place in the center console, I slide my thumb across to answer it.
“Debra?” I ask.
“Need you at the station, got a call in about a wreck over on Farm-to-Market road twenty-one-forty-seven.”
I don’t ask her why the officers on duty don’t respond. I don’t ask her because I know why. This is a fatality and they need all officers on scene, that includes off duty.
“Text me the coordinates. I’m on the way,” I grunt, ending the call.
This just completes the great week I’m having. The visit with Emily didn’t go as planned. She’s not ready yet. As badly as I want her to be, she isn’t. She still needs some time, time that I really don’t want to give her.
I’m ready.
I’m ready for my future.
I’m ready for her.
I’ll wait, but goddamn is it hard.
Chapter Three
EMILY
Exeter and MawMaw pull away, I wave at them with a smile on my lips. I’ve come to enjoy their visits, no, I look forward to them, almost as much as I look forward to Robby’s. Last week he stayed longer than ten minutes, but not much.
The sexual tension between us has been growing by leaps and bounds, and I can see the strain on his face. I feel it inside of me, so I’m not unaffected.
I want him. I want him so badly.
I just don’t know how to ask him for more, how to show him that I want him without looking like a whore. Being slutty is all that I know—being used, being abused.
Instead of going back inside where I know the house is loud and messy, I decide to go on a walk. The sun shines down on me as I make my way toward the park at the end of the street.
It’s going to be unbearable soon, the heat will be too much to walk around in the middle of the afternoon, but now, it’s only mildly uncomfortable.
The park is empty and I’m glad for the silence and solitude. Making my way over to a swing, I slowly sit down and begin to slowly swing back and forth.
I feel his presence before I see him. He’s standing at the edge of the park watching me. Lifting my head, I look up at him, tilting my head to the side, I wait. His body jerks and he begins to walk toward me, as if his feet have just become unglued from the ground.
“What’re you doin’ out here alone?” he asks, his gaze shifting from side to side.
I look up at him, taken aback by his harsh tone. “It’s the middle of the day, Robby,” I point out.
He grunts, his feet not stopping until he’s right in front of me. He’s standing above me, his body blocking the sunlight and casting a shadow over me.
“Still don’t like you out alone.”
Slowly, I stand to my feet. Without a single thought, without weighing the pros and cons. Without agonizing over my actions, I place my palms on his chest. Leaning into him, I roll up on the balls of my feet and brush my lips across his jawline.
Robby’s hands immediately find my waist, his fingers grip me tightly. Dipping his chin, his lips find mine. His kiss isn’t sweet and gentle like I expect, it’s bruising, hard and claiming. It’s perfect. My eyes slide closed, my mouth falls open and I lean into him, my breasts pressing against his chest.
His tongue slides inside of my mouth, he tastes me, then he nibbles on my bottom lip before nipping it roughly as he pulls away. His breathing is heavy, my eyes slowly open and I keep my head back as I look up at him in awe.
“Robby,” I say, his name coming in a heady sound that I don’t quite recognize.
He makes a grunting noise, dipping his chin again to press his lips against my own for a brief moment. Then his lips move across my cheek until they get to my ear. His breath is warm as it fans over me and sends a shiver down my entire body.
“I want you,” I admit on an exhale.
ROBBY
I thought my name on her lips was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard. I was wrong. Her telling me she wants me, holy fucking shit. That’s the sweetest fucking thing in the entire world. My fingers flex against her waist, I tug her even closer to me, wishing we were anywhere but in the middle of a park in the hot Texas sunshine.
“I want you too, baby,” I admit.
She bites her bottom lip, something she does when she’s thinking, then tips her head to the side. “Is this real?” she asks.
Frowning, I release her waist with one of my hands, moving it to wrap around the back of her neck. Her hair is soft and my fingers twitch, wishing they could grip the strands hard and force her neck back a little, arching it just perfectly.
“Which part?” I ask, my tongue feeling thick. I want to taste her, all of her. I need her. I feel like I’ve been waiting a lifetime for this moment.
She inhales deeply, then licks her lips. “You and me, this. It’s not because I’m easy, is it?”
I almost snort, but I don’t. Instead, I shake my head once, my eyes focusing on hers. She’s terrified, and why wouldn’t she be? Jacob used her as a fuckdoll. Then he used her with Jennifer, and who knows what other sick fuckers.
I don’t even want to dive into her childhood, Exeter told me more than I ever wanted to know when I arrested both her and Emily’s fathers. No, it’s safe to say that I don’t want Emily because she’s easy. She isn’t.
I’m under no illusions that being with her, that having her at my side will be easy. I am, however, completely confident that it will be worth it. Every fucking second. If she is the woman that I believe her to be.
“Nothing about you will be easy, Emily,” I murmur, brushing my lips across hers before resting my forehead against her own. “Everything about you will be worth it,” I say, repeating my thoughts.
She hums, her hands sliding from my chest to wrap around the back of my neck. “What happens now?” she breathes.
I grunt. I want to tell her that now I take her home and fuck her within an inch of her life. However, that is a thought better kept to myself, at least for now.
“You free tomorrow night?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she whispers.
Lifting my head slightly, I look down into her pretty blue eyes. “How about I pick you up at seven?”
“For what?” she asks, her brows furrowed in confusion.
“A date.”
She blinks, her eyes widening, then her lips frown slightly. “I’ve never been on a date,” she admits.
I take her confession in stride. I assumed as much. It makes me sad that nobody has ever treated her the way she deserves, but maybe she was waiting for me to come by all along.
“Then tomorrow night is your first date,” I grin.
She smiles slowly, her eyes searching mine, then she hugs me closer. “Then tomorrow night is my first date,” she whispers before she touches her mouth to mine.
I allow her to take control of the kiss, this one time. Her movements are timid, shy, and unpracticed. As if she’s never initiated anything before, and I highly doubt that she has.
I give her this, my fingers twitching with the need to grip her hair and waist ti
ghter, to kiss her hard and control her body, bend it to my will. I don’t. Not yet. Soon.
Chapter Four
EMILY
Standing in front of the small mirror in the living room, I look from one side to the other. I’m wearing a pair of dark washed skinny jeans and a white tank top. On my feet, I’m wearing gold flat sandals. I have my auburn hair pulled into a tight ponytail and my makeup is a bit darker than normal.
“Are you sure this is what a date outfit looks like?” I ask two of my roommates.
They both nod, their eyes bright and filled with excitement. I’m the first of us to really go out since moving in here. We’re all in different stages of our lives. I’m the youngest, but my background is the most fucked up.
“You sure you trust him?” Harlow asks me. She’s wary, she’s wary of every man and she should be. I don’t blame her at all. Not a single bit.
I think about her question, my eyes roaming over my reflection in the mirror. My face is flush with excitement, my legs twitchy and bouncy. Inside I’m a ball of nervous desire. But I know, deep in my soul that this man, I can trust him.
“I can.”
Her eyes narrow as she searches mine. “You’ll call me if you need help?” she asks, lifting her chin toward the phone that I hold in my hand.
“I will,” I agree as a knock sounds on the front door.
“Let the girl have some fun with the hot sheriff,” Eve says from her favorite spot in the corner of the sofa.
Turning toward the door, I tune both of them out as I slowly walk toward the door. Closing one eye, I look out of the peephole with the other. He’s there. He’s wearing his white Stetson cowboy hat, a blue plaid pearl snapped button-down shirt, jeans that hug his body, along with a shiny belt buckle at his waist. On his feet, his square-toed cowboy boots. He looks sinful.
HERO: An Unfit Hero Novel Page 27
