ARROGANT BASTARD (22 page)

“Of course not,” he says, strutting across the room toward me. He stops just before the bed, glancing down into my eyes and taking my face in his steady palms. “This is only the beginning. I plan to wake up next to you for the foreseeable future. Maybe even longer.”

“How romantic.” I roll my eyes.

“Look, I’m not good with this mushy shit. You know I want to be with you.” Jensen leans down, grazing his lips across mine before pressing them hard and depositing a single, feverish kiss that makes my stomach twirl.

“I want to be with you too.” I swallow air, trying to catch my breath. “But you’re moving to L.A. I’ll be in Salt Lake City for school. Just don’t say you want to be with me, when you know we won’t be together a few weeks from now. Don’t get my hopes up.”

He takes the spot next to me, dragging his fingers down my arm until he finds my hand. Our fingers lace. “We’ll make this work. I promise, Waverly. I don’t know how, but we will. We’ve come too far.”

I swallow the burning lump in my throat and blink away misty eyes that cloud my vision. This should be a happy moment. Like Bellamy said, we’re free. I’m not marrying Harold. I’m temporarily taking refuge in a palace fit for a queen. No longer will I live under my father’s thumb, making careful life choices all in hopes of making him proud.

I’m free to love whomever I want, and right now, I love Jensen Mackey.

His fingers leave mine, tracing my collarbone and then up the crook of my neck until his mouth lowers into my flesh. His teeth rake across my skin, biting and sucking, mixing pain and pleasure, which is fitting, because that’s exactly how I feel right now.

My face nudges toward his, craving his lips against mine once again.

“Did you hear me earlier?” He breathes his words into my ear, laying me on my back and climbing over me. “I told you I love you. I’ve never said that to anyone before, and I said it to you.”

“I love you too.” My hips widen, my stomach zips, anticipating the pressure of his hardness pressed against my core.

Jensen’s mouth claims mine, his hands cupping my face as his body weighs me down, grounding me more than he realizes. “I told you, Waverly. I know everything, and I know we’re going to find a way to be together.”

One year later…

I study the tattoo on the inside of my wrist: a dandelion drawn in black with seeds scattering to the wind. It was Jensen’s idea. He said I was a dandelion when he first met me—stubborn, rooted, determined. Little by little I loosened up, and the second I was ready, I scattered to the wind, the best parts of me becoming free to explore the world around me.

“Looks good,” he says, examining my wrist in his hand. “Healing up nicely. We’ll have to take a picture of it for the website.”

I flick my wrist around, and the sparkling diamond on my left finger catches the light. He proposed last March, during spring break. It was just the two of us in our tiny campus town apartment. There was no romantic speech. Jensen’s not like that. But he did speak from the heart, and all I needed to hear was, “I can’t live without you, Waverly.” I don’t remember much about what he said after that because I felt the same way. Nothing else beyond that mattered.

“Want to get a bite to eat?” Jensen rubs his stomach as he sprawls across our bed messy bed.

“Why don’t I make you something? You worked late last night.” I climb out of bed, but he pulls me back, planting his mouth against the crook of my neck and nipping my skin.

He left for eight weeks last summer to intern with a tattoo artist in L.A., and then returned to work on finishing his apprenticeship with a local Campus Town parlor. In a couple more years, when he’s licensed, Dane’s going to front him enough money to start his own place wherever we eventually decide to settle down.

“Eggs. Pancakes. Hash browns,” Jensen says, releasing me. “But I’m helping. I’ll be damned if I have you slaving over a hot stove.”

We haven’t been back to Whispering Hills since last year, when everything when down. Several months into my first semester at college, I stopped looking over my shoulder. It was as if one day, I realized no one was coming after me and everything was going to be okay. I haven’t heard from my family, and I’m sure I’m as good as dead to them now. Jensen and Bellamy are the only family I have left now, but that’s okay. They’re all I need.

One of these days, when the time is right, we’ll go back for the rest of our siblings. They’re innocent and unsuspecting now, but their day will come, and Bellamy and I will find a way to save them.

“Finals coming up?” Jensen studies the calendar taped to the side of the ‘fridge as he grabs a carton of eggs. He squints as he checks the expiration date and then sets it next to the stove. Watching a man all barefoot and shirtless in the kitchen is a sight I never thought I’d find sexy in a million years, but Jensen has defied all that.

“Yep, next week is dead week, then finals.” I grab a spatula and nonstick pan, setting them gently across the glass cooktop.

Jensen pulls salt and pepper from the cabinet and grabs an egg. It’s barely noticeable cradled in his palm, and with one fluid crack it slides into the pan. “As long as you’re free this weekend…”

“What’s this weekend?”

“Remember? L.A.? We’re going to visit Jaxon?” He sprinkles pepper over the egg, followed by a few shakes of salt.

“That’s right.” I shake my head, remembering our weekend getaway to visit the guy who mentored him last summer. They’ve become good friends since then, Jaxon taking Jensen under his wing. You’d have thought they were brothers, judging by how well they hit it off. “And then the weekend after that is Bellamy’s girls’ weekend in Puerto Vallarta.”

“Still not sure why my presence is required on that one, but I’m not one to turn down a free trip to Mexico.” Jensen leans over, kissing my forehead. He flips the eggs, and rakes his fingers through his messy, dark hair. His delicious lips pout just so, and his Adonis lines are entirely too inviting, but I’ve got class this morning.

“I’m sure Dane will have you golfing and doing
guy
things,” I say.

“I’m sure Dane has every second of every minute of that trip planned.” Jensen laughs, his hand raking his smooth chest. Sure, Dane’s a control freak, but I kind of like that about him. Plus, he keeps Bellamy content and grounded. He’s good for her.

I push his arm. “Oh, stop.”

Jensen plates the eggs and carries our breakfast to our little nook with our two little tables. Our apartment is small, and at times, crowded, but it’s ours. We’re free to live and laugh and kiss and make love and dream with zero rules and nobody looking over our shoulders.

“When we get back, maybe we can start planning our wedding?” Jensen shrugs. “Gotta nail you down before you wise up and realize you deserve better.”

“Wedding’s already planned.” I flash a smug half-smile.

“Oh, yeah? When were you going to tell me this?”

“You gave me free reign, remember?” I glance at the clock above us, mentally calculating how much time I have before I miss the bus. “Something small, at Dane’s estate. Just us, Bellamy and Dane, and a handful of close friends from work and school. I’ll wear a simple white sundress and you’ll wear… whatever you want. A justice of the peace will marry us, and I’ll carry a bouquet of pale pink peonies. That’s it.”

“Honeymoon?”

I rise, taking my dish to the sink and returning to kiss his delectable mouth. “Surprise me. I trust you.”

Jensen pulls me into his lap, catching me off guard. “Date. I need a date. Can’t plan a honeymoon without a date.”

“October eleventh.” I smile.

“It’s a date.” I attempt to climb off him, but he pulls me closer, refusing to let me go. “Watching you leave each morning is the hardest part of my day, but knowing you’re always going to come back to me makes it bearable.”

I breathe him in, my future husband. He’s my heart and soul, my insides and out. I live for him, and I know he lives for me. In a few short months, we’ll make it official, and no one will ever get to tear us apart again.

The End.

A
MAZON BESTSELLING AUTHOR Winter Renshaw recently celebrated her third 29th birthday. By day, she wrangles kids and dogs, and by night, she wrangles words. She loves peonies, lipstick, and balmy summer days. Chips and salsa are her jam, and so is cruising down the highway with the windows down and the air blasting while 80s rock blares from the speakers of her Mom-UV.

She would describe her writing style as sexy, conflicted, and laced with heart. Her heroes are always alpha and her heroines are always smart and independent. HEA guaranteed.

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Special thank you to Katrina, my right hand gal slash plotter and beta reader extraordinaire.

Thanks to the lovely and talented Louisa Maggio for making this breathtakingly gorgeous cover. You knocked it out of the park once again, Lou!

Thank you to Becky Rendon, for beta-ing this book not once but twice, and to all my ARC readers for your unwavering support. You’re all a bunch of dolls and angels, and I’m lucky to call you mine. ;-)

A million thanks to Amber with Wyrmwood Editing for squeezing me in last minute and putting a rush on my order. You’re amazing. That is all.

Thank you to my beautiful mother for listening to me vent when things got hard and for watching the kiddos while I work. Love you.

Many kudos to my loving husband for your unconditional encouragement. I’m sorry I laughed when you ran into the wall after your LASIK surgery, but I’m not sorry I videotaped you talking in your sleep. ;-)

Thanks to all the authors and bloggers who have lent their support and friendship. You’re all ridiculously awesome and wicked smaht, and I’m grateful to know you.

I’d never been touched before him, and yet one touch was all it took.

I’m dirty.

I’m ashamed.

I’m filled with sin and black.

But I’ve never felt more alive than when I’m on my knees before my master.

Nobody knows about us. Not my three mothers or seven brothers and sisters.

I was bred to be chaste and true, expected to find a nice polygamous man and carry on the tradition of our faith.

But this man? The one who claims my soul and calls me his? He might be the only thing that can truly save me.

Save us…

I’m Bellamy Miller, and this is what happens when an angel loses her wings.

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