ARROGANT PLAYBOY (43 page)
Authors: Winter Renshaw
“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.”
WAVERLY
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 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 went 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
MASTER
DESCRIPTION
I’ve never felt more alive than when I’m on
my knees before my master.
Some would say I should be ashamed.
Others might say I’m filled with sin.
I say I’m just a woman with unstoppable
determination, doing whatever it takes to secure her freedom before the
opportunity fades forever.
Nobody knows about us. Not my father, my
three mothers, or my seven brothers and sisters.
I was bred to be chaste and true, expected
to find a respectable polygamous man and carry on the tradition of our faith.
But this man? The one who owns me with
biting kisses and the crack of a leather paddle? He might be the only thing
that can save me.
Submission equals freedom. It’s an equation
I never thought possible until the day Dane Townsend showed up in my life.
I’m Bellamy Miller, and this is what
happens when an angel loses her wings.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is a stand-alone spin
off of Amazon Top 10 bestseller, Arrogant Bastard. HEA. No cliffhanger.
BELLAMY
“When are you going to take me home to
meet your parents?” Cortland’s hand glides into places it doesn’t belong. His
hot breath evaporates into fog as he whispers into my ear. I wish we were
anywhere else but the backseat of his Kia. “Your father’s going to love me.”
I tug on his arm until his hand
is free. I don’t want him talking about my father while he’s about to be
knuckle-deep inside me.
“What’d you stop for?” The
baffled expression on his chiseled face is a problem for me. “I thought you
liked it when I–”
“Not in the mood tonight.”
That’s what he gets for bringing up my prudent, strict, devout father who would
marry me off in two seconds flat if he knew I were in the backseat of a boy’s
car when I’m supposed to be at Bible study.
I stare into his impossibly
gorgeous green eyes. Even in the dark they shine like two polished emeralds.
His greedy hands lunge for me once more, but I block his move, crossing my
forearms like some kind of flesh-toned barricade.
“You should take me back now.
It’s getting late.” I inject my tone with a saccharin apology in an attempt to
soften any case of blue balls.
Cortland’s shoulders fall. He
pushes a steady breath through his nostrils. “Was it something I said?”
Yep
.
“I just don’t want to get
caught. We shouldn’t do this anymore.” I take the virtuous path, hoping that a
faith-based argument will hold some weight with the son of an AUB quorum
member. Besides, it’s time I break up with Cortland. Not that he’s my
boyfriend, but I’m sort of bored with him and the thrill of sneaking around is
now yawn-inducing.
And I think he’s falling for
me, which wasn’t supposed to happen.
I don’t do romance and love and
boyfriends, and he gave me a Valentine’s Day card last month. This day was
going to come sooner or later. Now’s as good a time as any to end it.
I’m going to miss those lips,
and the things he does with his tongue and the way his weight and warmth felt
against my body in the cool of the night under the shade of dark. Our
compatibility starts at physical and stops short beyond that.
It’s
been fun, my handsome Cortland.
“You’re right.” He reaches for
my hand, sandwiching it between his and holding my gaze as if he’s about to
utter some kind of profound truth. “We need to make this right, Bellamy. We
need to stop fooling around. It’s been, what, five-and-a-half months now?”
I wasn’t counting but okay.
“I have a confession.” His words stop my
heart like the pause of a clock right before a bomb’s detonation. “I’ve already
met your father.”
My mouth dries, prohibiting me
from uttering a single word for a moment. “Um. What?”
He reaches for my face, cupping
my jaw in a moment that might be tender to anyone else but me. “It’s time I
make you mine. I want to be sealed to you.”
He has to be joking.
This isn’t the green-eyed,
blond-haired guy I’ve been holding make out sessions with every Wednesday for
the last five months, the one constantly uniformed in Sperry Topsiders, gingham
button downs, and khakis with creases down the legs.
This is an imposter.
“
Cortland
.” His name comes from the most guttural part of me. “
What
did you
do
?”
“Relax.” He laughs. I don’t. “I
just told him I was interested in courting you. He has no idea that we’ve
been…”
His eyes drift to the hint of
skin peeking out from the top of my unbuttoned blouse, and he wears the
satisfied, stupid grin of a man replaying his glory days from the highlight
reel in his head.
“Oh, God.” I exhale and then
gulp in drink after drink of cool, spring air. “What did he say?”
“We went out to lunch. He
wanted to get to know me. I told him we met at Bible study. Told him who my
father was.”
My stomach twists hard, a
balled knot lodging itself under my ribcage. I know where this is going. My
father couldn’t have dreamed up a more perfect suitor for his
twenty-two-year-old daughter. My mothers haven’t shut up lately about the fact
that I should be married by now, and my father stopped silencing their commentary
several months back.
“He asked how I felt about
plural marriage, and that’s when I knew you were my destiny.” Cortland’s hand
hooks behind my neck, and he pulls me toward him. His lips graze mine, and I
feel him smiling. “My family is polygamous, too. Bellamy. You should’ve told
me. I believe wholeheartedly in the principle of polygamy. I would be honored
to take you as my first wife.”
The car is hot. Suffocating.
His cologne makes my stomach churn.
I don’t know if this is a good
time to tell him I wholeheartedly do
not
believe in the principle of polygamy. All I know is I need to get out of here.
Now
.
“Take me home.” I move toward
the handle of the passenger door, but he grabs my hand, pinning me against the
seat.
“Bellamy, stop. You’re being
ridiculous. Keep sweet. That’s all you have to do. Keep sweet, and I’ll take
care of you. Submit to me. Marry me. Have my babies. We’ll expand our family
when the time is right. This is the only path for us.” He produces his argument
like he’s speaking undeniable truths. “This is what Heavenly Father wants for
us. I feel it in the deepest part of my soul.”
He sounds like my father on his
craziest of days, when the ranting and quoting and paraphrasing booms from his
mouth to God’s ears.
My heart races until the blood whooshes
in my ears, and my head fills full of a thought-drowning thickness.
“You don’t want to marry me,
Cortland.” I jerk my wrist, but he’s gripping it hard, unwilling to free me.
“I’m all wrong for you. I’m not the submitting type.”
“Sure you are.” He releases my
wrist for a second and then squeezes tighter. “Might take some work, but we’ll
get there.”
“Maybe I don’t want to submit.”
“Maybe you don’t have a
choice.” His eyes flash in a way that chills my soul.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
His answer comes in the form of
an egotistical leer, one that implies he’s much craftier than I ever gave him
credit for.
“Are you blackmailing me?” I
lean away, or at least as much as I can. My back presses against the seat until
there’s no more give in the upholstery.
“I want you, Bellamy. I have to
have you. I’m the only man who’s ever felt you from the inside.”
Right.
With your fingers.
“I’m the only man who’s ever
tasted you. I’m the only man who’s ever commanded your body, pleasured you, and
that’s why you keep coming back to me.” He leans closer to me, running his
mouth across mine before taking a single, biting kiss. “I want the rest of you,
which means you have to marry me. And I’m going to do everything in my power to
make sure that happens.”
“Take me home, Cortland.” I
wriggle out from underneath him, jerking my wrists from his grasp and lunging
for the door. The second the fresh air hits me, uncontrollable shivers run the
length of my body.
The click of the opposite
passenger door fills the empty parking lot. I stand frozen as he climbs into
the driver’s seat and then rolls down the window next to me.
“Get in, Bellamy. I’ll take you
back.”
I’m powerless in this moment
because my car is several miles across town, and I do not own a cell phone.
Calling my sister, Waverly, for a ride will just get me into even more trouble
at home, and the last thing I need is for my father to be asking why I was on
the south side of town, when I was supposed to be at Bible Study.
I climb in, slamming the door
hard.
The drive across town is a
mixture of muted thoughts and road noise. By the time he pulls into the church
parking lot, my car is the only one left. According to the clock on the dash,
I’m going to be thirty minutes late going home, which means regardless, I’ll
still have my father’s wrath to deal with.
I can’t win.
Cortland pulls up beside my
car, reaching over to place his hand atop my knee.
My body responds to his touch
with a delayed flinch.
“Tonight, you’ll tell your
father that I approached you after our studies, and we lost track of time as we
spoke. You’ll arrange a time for me to meet everyone, and then we’ll begin our
official courtship.” He speaks as if he’s had this planned for a while.
I should’ve known where this
was headed when he signed his Valentine’s Day card with a heart and “
Love forever, Cortland
.” All along I
thought I was dealing with some love-struck puppy dog, not a sadistic maniac.
Guess I thought wrong.
“Submit to me, Bellamy. No one
else can love you the way you need to be loved. Only me. The sooner you accept
that, the happier you’ll be.”
Marrying Cortland, or anyone
else like him, would breathe life into my darkest nightmare.
My body buzzes with
paddle-shock intensity. None of my thoughts makes sense, and I’m not certain I
could form a complete sentence if forced. In all those months of sneaking
around, never once did I consider this to be a possible outcome.
“I’m going to marry you by the
end of the year,” he says. He releases his hand from my lap and rubs it across
the smooth plastic of his steering wheel. I hate the slick sound it makes
against his palm. “And Bellamy?”
I respond with silence.
“I strongly advise meeting me
halfway with this. I don’t think your father would appreciate the truth.”
“So you
are
blackmailing me.”
“I like to think of it as
saving your soul.”
I can save my own soul,
thank-you-very-much
.
“Whatever helps you sleep.” I
lurch for the door handle before he has a chance to stop me, and I slam the
door the second I’m free. I hear his voice, but I refuse to listen to the
endless spewing of venomous threats fused with scripture.
I’ll do what I have to for now
because if he’s not bluffing and he does tell my father everything, I’ll be
married off in a heartbeat.
And I know that marriage will
be with someone ten times worse than the twisted control freak with the
talented tongue and deceptively gorgeous green gaze.
I scramble for my car, taking
with me a handful of things I know to be true.
I would sooner die than marry
Cortland McGregor.
I refuse to submit to him or
any other man.
I’m going to get out of here as
soon as possible, no matter what it takes.
