Wrong then Right (A Love Happens Novel Book 2) (41 page)
Read Wrong then Right (A Love Happens Novel Book 2) Online
Authors: Jodi Watters
Tags: #A LOVE HAPPENS NOVEL
Because if he was, then holy shit on a shingle, she was going to fuck his brains out right after he was done. Truthfully, she was doing that no matter what came out of his mouth. That sexy peek-a-boo view into his pants was driving her crazy.
“I’ll leave the names up to you,” he conceded. “And since we have a house, some goldfish, and a jacaranda tree, we might as well get married, too.”
Leaning down, he placed his mouth over hers, his hungry kiss filled with promise.
When he finally pulled back, their lips clung briefly. “But I’m not proposing, princess. Not yet, anyway.” He swiped a finger across her chin lovingly. “Not because I’m not sure, but because I want you to be sure. I need to earn your trust back and I need to trust myself. That means being sober for a hell of a lot longer than a couple hundred days.”
He was about to get real lucky in the sex department. And considering her heart was bursting with love, so was she. In the life department, too.
“Deal.” She reached out to shake his hand, laughing when he yanked her into his arms, sinking down onto the plaid couch. Mouths melding, they sealed their lips together for a long moment, the kiss full of emotion. Of love and lust and commitment.
Hope rested her forehead on his when they broke free, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders. Speaking of a little thing called love, his tender speech had been missing one key ingredient.
Eyes locked, she spoke quietly. “I’m gonna need the words, Beck.”
He’d gotten a lot better at communicating, graduating from well trained poodle to grown man with relative, but sometimes painful, ease. Mumbling something, he moved his mouth to bite her earlobe, running his hands down to cup her bottom.
“You can do it,” she prodded, grinning as she licked the warm skin on his neck. “It’s easy. There are only three.”
“Let’s get naked?” he asked, his breath tickling her ear.
She shook her head. “I like the sound of that, though. Keep it handy.”
Letting out a small laugh, he tried again. “You were right?”
“That’s a very good guess,” she said, encouragingly. “And probably a phrase you should get used to saying. Just not the one I’m looking for.”
“Oh,” he said, grinning. “You mean, I love you.”
“There it is.” Her smile was a mile wide. “See? That wasn’t hard at all. And it sounds so wonderful, doesn’t it?”
Beck leaned back, gazing at her with clear, clean eyes. “I do love you, Hope. I probably have since the moment you walked into that hotel room at the Vistancia and demanded an interactive experience. I love you so damn much, I’m pretty fucking afraid I’m always gonna.”
It was such a Beck thing to say. And it was music to her ears. “Good thing we have my blanket.”
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
My love for steamy romance began when I was in junior high. A friend and I came upon a dumpster of discarded paperbacks behind our small town’s Ben Franklin store. The covers were missing and each book was torn in two, split right down the center of the spline, but I found that to be no obstacle as I scanned each page looking for any love or lust words—and curse words, too. It wasn’t long before I was scouring the public library and our local discount store, devouring anything labeled romance. I said a tearfully grateful goodbye to Judy Bloom as Jackie Collins began ruling my world.
I live with my high school sweetheart turned husband and our three, beloved DVR’s, in the desert Southwest. Otherwise known as the surface of the sun during the summer months.
My life long goals are to think before I speak, smile more and swear less, and actually weigh what my driver’s license states I do. And I have been contemplating a hair color change for the last decade. I’m thinking red.
CONNECT WITH THE AUTHOR
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Remember getting a little taste of sexy Sam Gleeson in WRONG THEN RIGHT? Find out how the former Army Ranger falls in love with his seductively sweet neighbor, Ali Ross in:
NEXT TO ME
Book One in the Love Happens series.
Excerpt from NEXT TO ME
CHAPTER 1
If the old saying about never having a second chance to make a first impression was true, then Ali Ross was screwed. And not the good kind of screwed, either.
The head banging, sore muscled, glad-you-were-a-woman kind of screwed that she hadn’t had in too many years to count. Okay, who exactly was she kidding here, because she’d never had that kind of sex before. Never even came close. Swallowing back the sarcastic sob that sorry admission brought on, Ali quickly dabbed her eyes with the loose cuff of the threadbare, white button down shirt she wore over her paint spattered tank top, hoping to wipe away any evidence of the embarrassing tears tracking down her cheeks. And prayed to God she didn’t have snot dripping out of her nose.
Her private pity party, which included a shame filled walk down memory lane, had just been crashed.
“Pete!” The low, masculine command came from thirty yards down the beach and even with the sound of the surf breaking gently as it met the shoreline a few feet from where she sat watching the sun set, Ali heard his voice loud and clear. Felt it in her toes, which curled where they were partially buried in the sand, still warm from the unusually hot southern California summer day. Her heart was beating a loud tattoo in her chest, reminding her of how long she’d been out of the game.
Their first meeting was crucial to her plan and she’d been wondering how to coordinate a chance introduction for days. Only a few plausible options had come to mind and this one, the one where she sat quietly weeping like an emotional basketcase on the beach, wasn’t one of them.
Hoping it looked like she had her shit together, Ali braced herself as the puppy landed ass over teakettle in her lap, paws wet and tail thumping, making himself at home in her personal space. Unable to stop herself, she stroked the soft, sugar-colored hair of her unexpected visitor and watched nervously as the large, dark figure jogged toward her. The steel blue sky, still partially streaked with the hot pink and burnt orange glow of the setting sun, made his shoulders, already a mile wide, look even wider. Thankfully a soft, sympathetic whimper momentarily distracted her and she looked down at her newfound friend. Tongue hanging out in happy bliss, knowing brown eyes stared at her in concern and Ali couldn’t help herself. She smiled her first genuine smile in what felt like forever. Maybe not that long, but too long. It felt good.
“I’m sorry.” The voice was close now, close enough that she could see his bare feet out of the corner of her eye as he approached and she buried her face briefly in the fur of the white Labrador puppy leaning against her as if she was his redeemer. Ali silently snorted. She was nobody’s savior. “Pete’s new around here and he’s still learning the ropes.”
Forced to look up at him, she smiled and shook her head. “It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not,” he said, the casual laziness in his rough voice contradicting his scolding words, meant more for the dog—Pete, apparently—than her. “I’m trying to teach him about stranger danger, but he’s not as smart as I’d hoped.” Crouching down, he scrubbed a hand over the dog’s face affectionately. “I should’ve gotten the Pit Bull, I guess. Right, Pete?”
She grinned and peeked at him again, not surprised to see him staring directly at her, something sparking in his eyes as he took in her blotchy face and puffy eyes. Cursing her shitty timing and fair complexion, Ali stared back at his surprisingly perfect face, unable to look away from such masculine beauty. He looked younger, much less severe than in the one photograph she’d been able to find of him online. The standard headshot pasted next to his short and somewhat awe-inspiring biography showed a magnetic expression portraying the all business attitude suitable for the co-owner of Scorpio Securities, Inc. The fact that he was more handsome than the average man wasn’t something Ali had given much thought to six weeks ago. It was his credentials and real time experience she’d been focused on. But now that he was right in front of her, the sharp angle of his jaw and straight blade of a nearly perfect male nose was only made more appealing by the shadowed, late day stubble covering the lower half of his face. His dark, almost black hair wasn’t long by any stretch but it wasn’t the closely cropped near military cut he’d had in the photo. A woman could run her fingers through it now, if she was so inclined.
And suddenly, Ali was.
Until this moment, she had seen only brief, distant glimpses of him in the week since moving into the house next door to him. Her newly purchased home along the panoramic Pacific coastline in La Jolla was one of only a dozen that sat side by side along the pristine beachfront, a mix of both old and new structures, and all built narrow and tall to maximize the prime square footage that came with a staggering price tag. And in her case, a remarkably hot neighbor.
From far away, Sam Gleeson was the kind of man that easily caught a woman’s eye. Up close, he was the kind that melted her panties. Right after she offered to drop them.
“Hey. Are you okay?” His voice lowered an octave and a wrinkle formed between his straight, dark brows. “Do you need some help?” He looked back toward her house, sitting next to his own, as if he expected to see the reason for her distress.
“No, I’m fine,” she quickly replied, as if she hadn’t just been in the middle of a cathartic cry when Pete decided to disobey his master’s command and come introduce himself. The puppy had created a near perfect opportunity for her, but Ali wasn’t ready. Wincing inwardly, she knew she wasn’t ever going to be ready for what she needed to do in the coming days and weeks, but thanks to Sam’s number one ranking on the total hottie list, it wouldn’t be a hardship.
That was, if she managed to rouse his interest.
No second chance at a first impression, right? Life could be a real bitch.
When he didn’t seem completely convinced by her answer, she smiled at the suspicious glint in his eyes. “Really. I’m fine,” she assured him, while nodding. Wishing her brain could conjure up a word other than
fine
.
Clearly relieved that he didn’t have to deal with a tearful woman sitting on the beach not far from his back patio, his body relaxed and he gave Pete another quick pat before standing to his full height of six feet plus a few. Ali nearly swooned.
“I’m Sam. I live right there.” He gestured with his head toward the beige contemporary house sitting next to her white-washed bungalow, as if she didn’t know. As if the mere knowledge of him hadn’t been the sole reason behind her purchase of the too large, too expensive home conveniently tucked close to his own. What she hadn’t been aware of was how potent he was in the flesh. “You just moved in, right?”
Taking in his broad chest and tight abs covered in a snug gray t-shirt, along with his lean hips and thighs encased in jeans that were worn thin in all the good spots, she quickly regained her composure and stood up, wiping sand off the back of her shorts.
“Yeah, a week ago.” Needing to retreat—to isolate herself as she’d been doing for the past few months, finding comfort in her solitary life—she raised her hand in a brief wave and headed toward her own back porch. Calling herself a colossal chicken shit.
Pete barked, the high pitched sound sending a shot of unfamiliar happiness through her, and she turned toward him as he ran the few steps to catch up with her. His tail swished back and forth when she reached down to rub his soft ears and a laugh escaped her before she could stop it. It felt odd. And wrong. As if she didn’t have the right.
“Bye, Pete. See you soon.” Still smiling, she glanced up as she turned to leave again and her gaze caught Sam’s, their eyes locking for a second longer than appropriate, considering they were strangers. Her chest tightened near the vicinity of her heart and that felt wrong, too.
“You’re not gonna tell me your name, are you?” he said, his smooth voice equal parts amused and incredulous.
“Ali,” she replied with a small grin, her steps slow in the deep sand.
“Nice to meet you, Ali.”
Only half turning around, she repeated his softly spoken words. “Nice to meet you, Sam.”
He watched her as she skipped up the wide steps of her back porch and disappeared into the dark house. She knew this because as she shut and locked the sliding glass door behind her, taking special care to set the security alarm, he stood right where she left him. A shadowed figure illuminated only by the rusty colored horizon at his back, looking like her very own personal sentinel for all the world to see, on duty to protect her against any harm that might come.
If he only knew.
“Shit. Shit, shit, shit!” Ali chastised herself as she began her minutes long nightly ritual before heading to bed.
While most women might have a strict bedtime regimen of plucking, exfoliating and moisturizing, using an array of beauty products that cost a fool’s fortune, doing everything in their power to keep the wrinkles at bay and their men interested, Ali did none of that. Sure, she loved all the yummy smelling potions as much as the next girl, but she had other priorities.
Instead, her nightly routine was completing an obsessive mental checklist to ensure every single window and door was locked tightly and her expensive, state of the art security system was set at the highest sensitivity level. In all honesty, it was a ritual she performed several times a day. And once or twice during the long, lonely hours of the night.
“Why did you just walk away? God, you are such a wimp. You’re supposed to get close to him, not run away like a prudish schoolgirl.” As if letting him witness her mortifying sob fest wasn’t bad enough. “That is not a turn on.”