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Living a life free of demons and finding forgiveness had always seemed unattainable to Jesse Ward. And yet Ava O’Shea offered him a chance of happiness, the possibility of a happy ever after. Their affair has been an intense whirlwind, full of highs and lows, and now Jesse’s finally on the cusp of realizing what he always thought was impossible.

Love. Marriage. Acceptance.

Redemption.

Except for one very important thing. The final part of Jesse’s past that he’s kept from the woman of his dreams. Because surely Ava will walk away if she knows about the most damaging skeleton in his endless closet.

As Jesse navigates his wild, infinitely passionate relationship with Ava, the demons stir, threatening to damage their love and trust. His domination and fierceness inevitably intensifies, ensuring he’s constantly straddling the line between bliss and complete irrationality.

His past is pursuing him.

His forever with Ava is uncertain.

And Jesse’s faced with the inconceivable reality that by simply bringing Ava into his world, he’s ultimately risked her life.


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Narrated by: Shane East


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Chapter 1

I look down onto the docks, my hands braced against the balustrade. I can hear Ava and her mother in the kitchen chatting. Everyone else has left after what was a lovely evening on the terrace, a fine meal, a proposal. But Ava’s parents are still here, and I might need to physically escort them out.
“Good view.”
I look over my shoulder and find Joseph on the threshold of the terrace, hands in his pockets. “I can’t say I ever really appreciated it before.”
“Mind if I join you?”
I smile mildly to myself. “Sure.” I can’t claim to know Joseph particularly well, but I do know he’s a man of few words and each one carries weight. I hear him approach and see him in my peripheral vision, joining me to look out across the city. The black sky is illuminated with windows of yellow lights. The moonlight is bouncing off the water. It really is spectacular.
“They’re talking about dresses and décor,” he says, rolling his eyes when I look at him. “Well, Elizabeth is doing most of the talking.”
I laugh under my breath. I can imagine. But she’s wasting her time. By tomorrow evening, everything will be in place. “Thanks for coming all this way.”
“Thanks for hosting us.”
“No problem,” I answer, and a lingering silence falls, not particularly uncomfortable but definitely loud. So I break it. “Is something on your mind, Joseph?” I ask, and this time it’s him laughing under his breath.
“Is it obvious?”
“Well, I know you didn’t come out here to join me in a romantic moment to take in the view.” I face him, showing him I’m ready to tackle whatever he’s going to hit me with. “Please, speak freely.”
He nods, mirroring me, looking back at the doors into the penthouse, where his wife and daughter are, before giving me his eyes. “Is Ava okay?”
I can’t hide my recoil. I wasn’t expecting that question. Can’t they see she’s fine? That I’m looking after her? Always will. “Is she okay?” I parrot, hoping he’ll elaborate.
“She seems a little . . . distracted.”
I can still hear Elizabeth rabbiting on about God knows what. Distracted. “I think she’s a little overwhelmed,” I say quietly.
“And pale.”
I shoot my eyes to Joseph. What the hell do I say? Tell him she’s ignoring all the signs that she’s pregnant?
But is she pregnant? The doctor said she wasn’t. He also said it may be too early to tell. There’s a box full of pregnancy tests hidden in the laundry room that could answer the question once and for all. Or her imminent period will. I’ve done the mental math. She’s due in a couple of weeks. Can I wait that long to know beyond doubt? Ava’s insisting on condoms. She’s also asked me outright what I’ve been doing with her pills. So she knows of my sins. Or, at least, that one.
And yet she still agreed to marry me. Fuck, I’m so fucking confused by all of these mixed messages. Distracted. Her father has noticed. “I’ll keep an eye on her,” I say quietly, wondering how I’ll handle this. Delicately is that answer. Problem is, I’m Jesse Ward. Not exactly known for a soft approach. I do try, though. I fail, but I try. I can’t fail this time. I clear my throat. “Do you have my number, Joseph?” I ask, pulling out my mobile, prompting him to get his. “I’m sure she’s fine.”
“I’m sure,” he says, albeit with hesitance he can’t hide.
Fuck, is he doubting me? Has Ava’s brother been pouring poison in his ear? “I’ll look after her,” I say, not for the first time, trying to squash any lingering reservations Joseph may have about the man his daughter’s marrying, regardless of the fact that he should be bursting with reservations. Fuck it all to hell. My perfect evening feels like it’s slipping down the pan, Joseph’s doubts unearthing my own. Has Ava changed her mind about marrying me? Did she say yes out of ease or embarrassment?
Joseph nods mildly, checking the doors to the penthouse again. He’s got more to say. He just doesn’t know how to say it without offending me. “The drink,” he asks.
I fight with everything I have not to visibly tense. “I don’t drink.”
“But you did.”
Fuck Matt, and fuck Ava’s brother. “I have in the past, yes.”
“And now you don’t?”
“It doesn’t agree with me,” I say, feeling like a complete tool. “I mean . . .” I exhale, raking a hand through my hair, wincing at the feel of the tender, damaged skin on my back rubbing against my shirt. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Joseph. Some people can drink and get a buzz. I don’t like the effect alcohol has on me, so I don’t drink it.”
“Because Matt—”
“Told you I’m a raving alcoholic, I know.” I look out at the view again, struggling with this conversation, and really struggling not to tell Ava’s father where to go. Can’t do that. Besides, I like the guy, and everything coming at me now is a lot less than what I would throw if I was in his shoes. Will I ever be in his shoes? I flinch, squeezing my eyes shut, seeing Rosy in the haze of my regrets. Except she’s not a toddler. She’s a young woman. Reminding me I had a chance to be in Joseph’s shoes.
And I blew it. Killed her.
“He also told you I beat him up,” I say. “I didn’t, but I won’t lie and say I’m glad I abstained. He’s a piece of work, and I won’t have him forcing himself on Ava or trying to sabotage what we have.” I’m yet to figure out where the hell Matt got that information from. A raving alcoholic? I laugh under my breath.
“I agree with you there. I never did like him.” He obviously has good sense. I like you even more now, Joseph. His hand appears on the balustrade, his fat fingers wrapping around the metal. “Are you going to give me your number or not?”
I frown, looking down at my mobile in my hand as Joseph holds his up. That’s the end of the conversation. And I’m so good with that. I give him my number and he dials me so I can save his. “We’d better go inside.” I nod to the doors. “It’s getting chilly.” And it sounds like Ava needs saving from her mother.
“One more thing,” Joseph says, stalling me. I look back. “The wedding.”
“What about it?”
“Well.” He shifts a little, looking uncomfortable, and everything inside me cools. “I’d like to contribute.”
“What?” Oh God. “Jesus, no, Joseph, that’s really not necessary.” I laugh, uncomfortable. “It’s taken care of.” I can’t take his money.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist, Jesse. She’s my little girl. My only girl. It’s traditional for the father to pay for the wedding, but I realize you both probably have elaborate plans that will exceed any budget I could offer, so perhaps you’ll graciously accept my proposal to take care of the bar bill.” His eyebrows rise, and I smile.
“That’s very kind of you, Joseph. I will very graciously accept.” I hold out my hand and he takes it, shaking. “Thank you.”
He waves me off. “Last thing.”
Oh? What now?
“Let’s just keep this arrangement to ourselves, okay? Man to man.”
I laugh and slap his shoulder, holding my palm there as we wander into the penthouse. “Fine by me,” I agree, knowing Ava won’t be at all comfortable with her father using some of their retirement fund to pay for the bar at our wedding. The Manor’s not cheap, and neither are the drinks. Not that Joseph will know the prices. I’ll ensure he gets an invoice that’s substantially lower, probably closer to wholesale price, if only to ensure his pride is kept intact. Besides, family gets a ninety percent discount.
We find Ava and Elizabeth on the couch, both with glasses of wine in their hands. Ava’s hardly touched hers. Why? I eye it as I approach.
“Ah, here they are,” Elizabeth sings, patting the cushion beside her for Joseph to take.
I pull my trousers up at my knees and lower next to Ava. Joseph is right. She’s looking a bit peaky. “Are you all right?” I ask, getting a quick, unconvincing nod as she sips her wine. She wouldn’t drink if she knew she was pregnant. Would she? Not that she’s really drinking. More dipping her tongue.
“Are you?” she counters, eyes on me, watching for my reaction to her question.
“Yes.” I smile, pushing away the conversation I had with John earlier this evening, and of which Ava caught the tail end of. Or, at least, caught my expression, which I’m sure was full of dread. To know that not only has Sarah made overt attempts to convince me I shouldn’t be with Ava but has also been manipulating and orchestrating events to make Ava run from me? And nearly succeeded? I’m fuming. “I’m fine,” I say, taking Ava’s knee and squeezing. “What have you been talking about with your mother?” I see it in Ava immediately. Trepidation.
“Oh, we’ve been talking about all the things,” Elizabeth chimes, as I study Ava’s face, searching for any hint of excitement. “Guest lists, the cake, the menu, what season is best to get married.” Elizabeth takes a mouthful of wine. “I do love a winter wedding, but this manor hotel of yours sounds like it has the most fabulous grounds, so I thought a summer wedding. That gives us just over a year to make all the arrangements, if you decide on next summer, of course. Plenty of time, I think. I’m not sure why people wait two years, to be honest with you.” She laughs. “We should set a date to go dress shopping, darling.” She gasps, placing her wine down on the side table and grabbing her mobile. I feel Ava getting tenser and tenser beside me. “It’s Aunty Angela’s birthday in July. Maybe we could make it a day out. Dress shopping for you, outfits for us, a bridesmaid’s dress for Kate.” She frowns. “Wait, you are having Kate as a bridesmaid, aren’t you?” Ava nods jerkily. “I thought you must. Have you asked her yet?” Another gasp. “And best man? Who will be the best man? Sam? He seemed like a nice young man.” She goes back to the screen of her phone. “So, Aunty Angela’s birthday is the twelfth. That’s a Monday, so perhaps we could do the tenth. The Saturday. Oh, we’ll do Harvey Nics. Champagne for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.” She chuckles and reclaims her wine, taking another sip before placing it back down. “I’ll text her now and tell her to put it in her diary.”
I glance at Joseph, who looks as exhausted as I feel after Elizabeth’s verbal sprint, his chest rising slowly with his patience-gathering inhale. “Please, please, please let me,” Ava whispers from beside me, obviously detecting my intention to delicately trample all over Elizabeth’s grand plans. Ava’s been in here for a whole half hour with her mother since everyone else left, and she’s not broken the news yet? I have no faith she will now I’m sitting next to her. “Let me get you a beer, Dad,” she blurts, high-pitched, diving up from the couch and hurrying off to the kitchen.
I watch her go, one eye narrowed as I rise to standing. “And more wine, Elizabeth?” I ask, eyes still on Ava’s back until she disappears from view. I don’t want either of them to have another drink. I’d really love for them to leave, actually, so Ava can make good on her previous intention to force me upstairs and rip my clothes off. Where’s that need gone? An hour ago she was practically wrestling me toward the bedroom. It was painful denying her. Agony. But I’m not unreasonable. I would never disrespect her father like that. So what’s changed since I not so subtly told Ava our wedding will be in two weeks and she very willingly agreed?
I snarl to myself. I know what. She’s had too long out of my arms to overthink it. So I must get my hands back on her and reinforce the deal.
“Yes, please,” Elizabeth says, handing me her glass. I leave the soon-to-be in-laws and go to the kitchen, finding Ava bent over the counter, her head in her hands. I look at her arse. Raise my brows.
Then quickly pull my lurid thoughts back into line. There will be no brutal fucking until it’s answered—without dispute—if she’s pregnant or not. “What’s up, baby?” I ask, placing Elizabeth’s wine glass down on the counter and taking her hips, doing myself no favors when I rub my groin into her arse. I quickly wrench myself away and pull Ava up to face me. I hate the despair I find. Joseph’s observations, the distraction and pasty complexion. It’s worry. She’s pensive, listening to her mother’s plans, and feeling quite sick about what her reaction might be to the news that we’re getting married a lot sooner than Elizabeth imagined.
“What’s up?” She laughs but quickly loses all humor, not that it was real humor. I don’t tell her sarcasm doesn’t suit her. Something tells me she won’t appreciate it. “Did you hear her?” she asks, pointing past me.
“Yes, I heard her.” The whole fucking borough of Tower Hamlets probably heard her.
Ava groans, breaking out of my hold and going to the fridge, pulling out a beer for her father. “She’s going to freak out.” The beer hisses when she opens it and overflows onto her feet. “Fucking hell,” she breathes, looking down at her soaked toes. “Fucking, fucking hell.”
My teeth grate, but like I refrained from telling her to mind her sarcasm, I refrain from telling her to watch her mouth. Delicately does it. Today has been a lot. For everyone. I step in, take her hips, lift her, and carry her to the counter to sit her on it. I remove the beer from her hands and slip off her heels.
She’s silent as I dry the floor with a towel, before starting on her feet. Watching me. “What’s the matter with you?” she asks, suspicious.
“Me?” I ask over a laugh.
“Yes, you. I just turned the air blue with my bad language and you’ve got nothing to say about it?”
I cock a sardonic eyebrow. “I have plenty to say about it. In fact, I’d like to fuck some sense into you right now but, unfortunately for me, we have guests.” I finish drying her foot and lift it to my mouth, biting gently on the end of her middle toe. Her chest dips, her fingers clawing the edge of the counter. So I suck it into my mouth, relishing the sparkle in her eyes. That’s better.
“Our guests will be leaving soon,” she whispers. “So perhaps then you could fuck that sense into me.”
She’s goading me. Trying to get a fuck out of me rather than some easy, gentle lovemaking. “Perhaps,” I muse, dropping her foot and moving in, un-clawing her fingers and guiding her hand to my hair. She tugs gently, and I smile. “Until then, we have some facts to share with your mother.” I slam a kiss on her lips and swallow her groan of despair.
“I want to tell them,” she argues.
“When?”
“I’ll call her when they’re home.”
I laugh under my breath, pulling her down off the counter. “Sure. Like you were going to tell Patrick about me? Like you were going to tell him you can’t work for Mikael Van Der Haus anymore?” The mention of his name has Ava’s eyes dropping like rocks to my chest and my jaw tightening. The guy in the footage at the bar from the night Ava was drugged. He had all the credentials, looked just like Van Der Haus. I just need Jay to give me something clearer. More concrete. Then I can kill the fucker. “Come,” I say, leading Ava out of the kitchen.
“Jesse, please,” she pleads, but doesn’t put up any physical resistance. “I don’t want to ruin the day.”
“It won’t be ruined, because your mother will accept that this is what we want to do.”
“What do you want to do?” Elizabeth asks, looking at my spare hand, frowning when she doesn’t find any wine.
I stop Ava in front of them and look down at her. I can tell we’re going to get nowhere if I leave this to my wife-to-be, so I take the lead. We’re getting married in two weeks. Less than two weeks, actually. Twelve days. We haven’t got time to pussyfoot around Ava’s mother. “We’re not getting married next summer,” I say, feeling Ava move closer into my side, almost behind me. Hiding.
“Oh?” Elizabeth says. “The following summer then. I suppose that will give us more time, but we should still get your dress sorted, darling. I’ve texted Aunty Angela. She’s so happy for you!” Going back to her mobile, Elizabeth scans the screen. “She’s got no plans for Saturday July tenth, so it’s a date.”
“That’s a bit late,” I say.
“For a dress? No, no. Eighteen months seems reasonable.” Elizabeth flicks across her phone. “This site has some wonderful dresses, Ava. I’ll send you the link.”
“We’ll need it a bit sooner,” I go on, as Ava slinks farther behind my back.
“What?” Elizabeth doesn’t look up from her phone, but Joseph is watching Ava and me standing in front of them, curious. “Oh, Ava, white or ivory?” Elizabeth bangs on. “Pearls, diamantes?” She gasps, hand on her chest. “Veil? Oh, you must let your great aunty Glenda make it. She made mine and your aunty Angela’s.”
“We’re getting married a week on Saturday, Elizabeth,” I say clearly, waiting for it. Joseph sinks deeper down into the couch, obviously waiting for it, too, and Ava tenses behind me.
Elizabeth eyes lift, but her head remains low. “What?”
“A week Saturday,” I affirm. “At The Manor.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she says, laughing. “Who organizes a wedding in less than two weeks?”
“Me.”
Her face falls, probably because she’s comprehended how serious I am. “But half of your guest list will probably have plans already at such short notice.”
I shrug. “This wedding is for us. Not for our guests.” I’d happily whisk Ava off to a foreign land tonight if I could, but I can’t. You need licenses, papers from whatever country you’re marrying in, blah, blah, blah. So The Manor it is. I just need a license to hold ceremonies. I smile. I know just the man.
“But . . .” Elizabeth slowly gets to her feet. “But . . . but . . .”
“But . . .” I say.
“But . . .”
“Elizabeth,” Joseph murmurs quietly, with soft warning.
“I won’t hear of it,” she snaps. “No. I won’t allow it. For Christ’s sake, people will think . . .” She gasps.
“I’m not pregnant before you start,” Ava grates, pulling my interested eyes back to where she remains half-hidden behind me, avoiding the shit flying. She’s not? Says who, the doctor, Ava, or an actual test?
“Then why the rush?” Elizabeth cries. “We have to give people notice. I have to find my outfit! No. No, you absolutely cannot get married next Saturday.”
I feel Ava deflate behind me, and she looks up at me, as if to say . . . see? Yes. I see. I see that her mother is a pain in my fucking arse. Ava exhales heavily, defeated, and leaves the room, walking to the kitchen. Of course, I follow, rather than giving Elizabeth a deserved trample and upsetting the situation further.
She’s pouring a glass of wine when I enter, and I don’t miss the slight hesitation as she raises it to her mouth before her lips straighten and she swigs. “And that is why I wanted to tell her over the phone,” she says, resting the glass down and facing me. “And I can’t even blame her for being dramatic because . . .” She laughs. “I’ve known you two months! How could anyone possibly know they want to be with someone forever within two months?”
“I knew in two minutes,” I say quietly, winning her eyes. Guilt. I see it on her. “Don’t tell me you’re changing your mind.”
“Of course I’m not.”
“You agreed a week on Saturday.”
She sighs. “I know.”
Well, this is wonderful. “You could at least pretend to be excited, Ava,” I grumble, passing her and going to the fridge, yanking it open and pulling out a jar of my faithful. I unscrew the lid and focus on the digging some out—anything to soothe my injured state.
I don’t get a chance to get my finger into my mouth, though. My wrist is seized and held still, and Ava takes the jar from my other hand and puts it on the counter. She looks at me with sorry eyes. “Forgive me?”
I pout. “Do you want to marry me?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s do it, baby.”
She nods and directs my finger to her mouth, slipping it past her lips. I inhale. What the fuck is she doing to me?
“You hate peanut butter,” I whisper, my voice low and husky, my dick twitching. She sucks, licks, circles the tip with her tongue, then pulls it out slowly on an erection-provoking pop.
“But I love you,” she whispers, swallowing. “Need you.”
I back her up into the nearest wall, ready to ravish her, take what I’ve been desperate for all evening and what Ava has tempted me with. I kiss her cheek. “I’ll take care of everything,” I whisper, kissing her other cheek. “All you need to worry about is your dress.” I move my lips to her forehead.
“Everything?”
“Every little thing,” I assure her, dotting kisses down the bridge of her nose. I won’t have her overwhelmed or stressed. She just needs to show up and say I do. “Even the honeymoon.”
“Wait.” She puts her hands into my chest and pushes me back a little. “I can’t go on a honeymoon. Not straight away. I’ve already had too many days off work, and I’ve got to get Ruth Quinn’s contract wrapped up.” She grimaces. It sounds like this Ruth Quinn is a belly ache. But at least she’s not Van Der Haus. “Please, just give me a few weeks before you book something.”
My shoulders drop. I suppose this is compromise. “Fine. Don’t ever tell me I’m unreasonable,” I mutter, moving back in and resuming our closeness, now placing my lips on her mouth. “Can we get rid of your parents now?”
She laughs, and it’s dick-twinging stuff. God help me. But my growing erection droops when I hear my soon-to-be father-in-law clear his throat. I cry on the inside, and Ava cringes as we face him. Elizabeth is silent by his side. A scorned child. “Your mother has something to say.” He nudges Elizabeth. “Don’t you, dear?”
“I’m sorry,” she gushes, coming to us and muscling me out the way to get to her daughter. “It was a bit of a shock, that’s all.” She squeezes Ava to her chest, and I grit my teeth, seeing her shoulders jump up, trying to deal with her mother’s hands all over the lashes on her back. Lashes that never should have touched her skin. “Forgive me.”
“Forgiven,” Ava says quickly.
I breathe out when Elizabeth releases her, and Joseph gives me a nod which I return, a silent thank-you. “So your father and I had a little chat,” she says, looking between us. “We’re going to stay for a few days.”
I choke on nothing, trying to disguise it as a cough.
What?
Stay? In London?
“There’s so much to plan and to arrange,” she goes on.
“It’s all under control,” I pipe up quickly.
“Maybe, Jesse, but there’s one thing you can’t do.”
“Is there?” I ask, scratching through my head for what that could be. “What?”
“Buy her dress.” Elizabeth goes to the fridge and opens the wine. “We’ll go tomorrow. I’ll call Aunty Angela. You call Kate.”
“Mum,” Ava breathes. “I’m working tomorrow.”
“Working?” She pours as I get the beer from the counter and hand it to Joseph. “But you have a dress to find, Ava.” She sips. “And what if it needs to be altered?”
“Zoe will take care of it,” I say, laughing when Joseph picks up my open jar of peanut butter and grimaces at it.
“Will she?”
“Yes.” She’s the only woman I know who can make a dress happen with such notice. And she owes me for nearly bankrupting me last Friday. “I’ll message her”—I take the jar from Joseph and put it back in the fridge, then tap out a message—“see what she’s got tomorrow.”
“I have to work tomorrow,” Ava protests, lowering to a stool. I can see it. The gravity of it all overcoming her. “And what about my hair? And nails? And lashes. Should I have lashes?” She looks at her mother. “Do I need lashes?”
“That’s it,” Elizabeth says. “We’re definitely staying, no arguments.” She necks her wine and refills. “I’ll never find anything in Newquay for such a special occasion, so I’ll take myself shopping tomorrow while you’re at work. Hopefully this Zoe can see us after you’re finished.” She huffs her disappointment. “Who has time to work when there’s a wedding to plan?”
Finally, something we both agree on. I purse my lips and glance at Ava with high, agreeable eyebrows, and she, true to form, rolls her eyes and sticks her tongue out. “But I’m not organizing, am I?” she retorts, smug. “You must stay here,” she says, returning her attention to her mother.
What?
Is she being spiteful?
“But we have a hotel, darling,” Elizabeth says, laughing a little. I can see it in her eyes as she casts them around the surrounding luxury. She wants to stay.
“No, no, you must stay here.” Ava stands, looking at me. “They should stay, shouldn’t they?”
What can I say?
No?
Fuck off, I refuse to share your daughter with you?
I sigh, and it’s really fucking deep. I can hear myself. Luckily, no one else can. I know at some point in our relationship I’ve suggested Ava’s parents could stay, but I can’t say with complete honestly I meant it. I was appeasing Ava when she was finding excuses for me not to meet them.
And now they’re here. Our guests. Our overnight guests.
Great. For how many nights exactly?
I send a prayer to the dress gods that my testing mother-in-law finds one really fucking fast. “Yeah,” I breathe. “Yeah, they should stay.” In the room farthest away from ours. My phone dings. “Zoe can do five o’clock tomorrow.”
“I’ll leave work early,” Ava says, biting at the corner of her lip through her smile. She leans up and kisses my cheek. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, baby.” I take her in a hug and look over her head to her parents. “There are a few things I need to run by my wife-to-be,” I say, cupping the back of Ava’s head. “Excuse us.” I start walking backward, bringing Ava with me, still tucked into my chest. “Make yourself at home.”
I get us out of the kitchen and rush Ava up the stairs. To hell with abstaining while her parents are around. When I made that vow, I thought they’d be here for dinner, not for a city break.
I get Ava into our room and shut the door. “Strip,” I order as I shrug off my jacket. “Now.”
“I can’t believe you did that,” she says, pulling her dress up her legs.
“Really?” I ask on a laugh, making her working hands falter. “You really can’t believe I did that?” I kick off my shoes and dip to remove my socks before unbuttoning my shirt.
“Dumbest thing I’ve ever said,” she muses to herself, resuming her strip, which, frankly, is a bit fucking slow.
I get my shirt off, my trousers, my boxers, all at lightning speed, and help Ava finish, dragging her knickers down her legs. I remain crouched before her, staring at her flat stomach. Pregnant.
Until she reaches under my arms and pulls me back to standing, taking hold of my cock. I suck in air. Something tells me she’s trying to distract me. “It really is the dumbest thing you’ve ever said,” I say quietly, staring into her dark eyes. “And do you know what your wisest words will ever be?” I ask, cupping her between her legs.
“What?” she asks on a hitch of breath.
I kiss her neck, suck, before working my way down to her boob and refreshing my mark. I’d love to be a fly on the wall when she explains that to her mother on their shopping trip tomorrow. “The wisest thing you’ll ever say, baby, is . . .” I slip a finger into her, looking up and relishing the ecstasy coating her face. “. . . I do.”
“Yes,” she whispers, holding my shoulders as I work her. “And now you can fuck me.” She takes my biceps and walks me to the bed, trying to push me down. No. I spin us and, rather than pushing her front forward onto the bed, I ease her down to her back, scanning every inch of her perfect, tight body as I do. I don’t miss her flinch as her raw flesh comes into contact with the sheets. There will be no fucking. But her damaged back won’t be damaged for long, therefore my reason to be gentle will be gone too.
But perhaps by then, when she’s my wife, we’ll have had some breakthroughs.
Perhaps by then, she’ll finally admit what we both know.

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Narrated by Evelyn Rose, Lee Ellis, Stella Hunter, Shane East & John Hartley

Blurb


Temptation has never been so dangerous.

A domineering force in Miami’s volatile criminal underworld, Brad Black is respected. Feared. His deadly accurate trigger finger and indestructible persona has earned him his intimidating reputation and, up until six months ago, hookers, drugs, and protecting the Black empire was the sum of his life’s purpose.

Until he saved her.

Wild, brave, and beautiful, Pearl Kennedy is Brad’s kryptonite. A distraction. A young distraction. But with enemies joining forces, coming at them with more force and less mercy than ever before, she’s also a deadly distraction. Focusing on the end game, finding and killing their enemies, has to remain his priority.

But Brad completely underestimates the power of his connection with Pearl. And he can’t shake the niggling feeling that there’s more to her than meets the eye.

Pearl Kennedy was saved from the clutches of human traffickers by one of the world’s most notorious criminals—Brad Black. Since being taken back to his family’s mansion in Miami, she’s felt safe and protected, despite Brad’s cold, brusque, and confusing treatment. He should disgust her—he’s flaunted his hedonistic tastes unapologetically.

But no matter how hard Pearl tries to fight it, she’s drawn to the lethal, handsome killer. Yet she knows she’s living on borrowed time, and to succumb to the attraction would be to expose herself and her secrets. And then it will be just a matter of who will kill her first. The monsters from her past. Or Brad Black.

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Blurb
Jake Sharp resides in his own personal hell. The ex-SAS sniper was distracted from duty once before, and the consequences were devastating - both personally and professionally. He vowed never to let that happen again.

The job of bodyguard to Camille Logan isn't the kind of distraction from his demons he should take. Women and Jake don't mix well, yet the lesser of two evils seems to be protecting the heiress, whose life is threatened as a result of her father's ruthless business dealings.

He thinks he knows her type: Beautiful and spoiled, with her father's bank balance to fund her lifestyle. But he soon discovers the real Camille - warm, compassionate, determined to be independent and happy after struggling with past mistakes. Now, his duty to protect her turns into something deeper than a well-paid job, no matter how hard he fights it. He needs absolution. He comes to need Camille. But he knows he can't have both.

For fans of Maya Banks, The Protector delivers the all-consuming romance and devastating alpha hero that make a Jodi Ellen Malpas novel an irresistible, passionate listen.

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