Authors: Jodie Larson
Fated To Be Yours
Copyright © 2015 by Jodie Larson
Cover Design by Murphy Rae at
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incident are either the product of the author’s imagination or are use fictitiously.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
HE CHILL OF THE NIGHT
air sends a shiver down my spine. My arms instinctively wrap around my middle, warding off the impending cold as it blows over the balcony rails. My body senses him before he even touches me. His hard chest presses against my back as he wraps his strong arms around me, pulling me back toward our bed, our safe haven. Space which is only ours and no one can touch us. My eyes close as I deeply inhale a scent that is undeniably his, invading my every sense, straight down to my bones.
I crave him.
I want him.
I need him.
The pulsing throb between my legs grows exponentially as his lips press into the delicate skin of my neck, nipping and sucking before we fall into a tangle of arms and legs onto the bed.
“Tessa,” he whispers against my skin. It pebbles under the warmth of his breath, laced with heat and desire. His hands roam curiously around my body with a familiarity only they know. A quiet moan escapes my lips as his hands continue their journey, finally landing on the soft curves of my chest.
My arms reach behind me, anxious to feel him beneath my palms. My fingers twitch with delight when I make contact with the massive erection in his pants. The sharp hiss in my ear allows me know how much he wants my hands on him as well.
“I need you,” he says, gently sucking on the lobe, causing spasms of pleasure to rocket throughout my body.
“I’m yours,” I whisper.
Gently, he turns me onto my back. The bright sapphire eyes I adore beyond belief stare into my own, saying words that do not need to be spoken. My eyes search his face, wanting to see past the shadows cast by the candles surrounding us, dancing across his beautifully sculpted face, obstructing my view. Tentatively my hand cups his cheek, fingers lacing in the hair around his ear as I slowly pull his mouth down to meet mine.
My body meets the hard, unforgiving floor as I fall out of bed once again. I’m stuck in this never-ending nightmare that is constantly teasing me with thoughts of someone out there who could love me. It plays through my mind every night, haunting my thoughts and causing me physical pain as my subconscious makes me so restless I need to throw myself from the bed for it to stop.
Fate has not been kind to me. She taught me long ago that bad things happen to the unloved. My mother rejected me, as did my father, abandoning me as a child, without reason. Every emotional relationship I’ve attempted to forge since then has fallen to the same fate, leaving me in isolation.
I dare not hope because it will ultimately lead to disappointment. And disappointment is something I already own in spades. Instead, I’ll leave my future in the hands of fate and pray she’s able to show me the way.
I examine my latest bruise in the bathroom mirror, twisting my head from side to side while I dig out my supply of makeup to cover it up and make it less noticeable. It’s part of my daily routine, one which I would be more than happy to get rid of.
That dream, that stupid, horrible nightmare has hurt me again in more ways than one. Besides the physical markers, the bruises on my face, and chronic headaches that follow, it also leaves emotional damage in the form of an aching heart. Why does it feel the need to torture me with thoughts of a handsome man who wants me? I’m single and alone, which I have been for years. Then suddenly, these past few months have been filled with intense blue eyes and a sexy voice always in the shadows. So intense that my body’s natural response is to run away from them rather than to them.
And maybe nightmare isn’t the correct term for this dream. To the normal person, it would be the greatest dream imaginable. One filled with happily ever afters and promises of a bright future. That is not true in my case. This dream, happy as it may seem, shows me a future that I don’t see happening. A falsehood of hopes and dreams to never come true. Happily ever afters do not exist for those who were cast aside by people who were meant to protect and love you. Having never been shown that in the past makes me disbelieve of finding it in the future.
I know I shouldn’t let my past dictate my present. I should just move on and get over it. Parts of it were good though, just not enough to outweigh the bad times. My parents divorced when I was around the age of nine, which is where I think my self-esteem issues stemmed from. Words were said, actions performed that cannot be undone, leaving me longing to have a normal home life, even though I never had it before. Home implies a place you can go to feel safe, where people will love you unconditionally and will treat you with respect. Instead, things happen and parents change. They leave or grow distant, pushing you away or forgetting that you exist.
They say that you spend your entire adult life getting over your childhood. I would have to agree. Overcoming your childhood is difficult, especially when you still struggle to overcome your failures and shortcomings, even with your best efforts to move past them.
But I can’t dwell on the past right now. Now I need to focus on the present and get myself ready to begin my day while attempting to put my mystery man in the back of my mind.
I stare blankly into my coffee cup as I get lost in my thoughts again, until my phone rings and pulls me out of my head.
“Are you on your way? Tell me you’re on your way.”
It’s Kara, my boss, who also doubles as my best friend. And like the good friend that she is, she’s always looking out for me, making sure that I don’t fall behind or lose track of time. Which happens more times than not.
“Not yet. It’s still early.”
“Tess, it’s almost quarter to eight. And you still need to fight the morning rush. You may want to start moving.”
“No, it can’t be that late.” I glance up at the clock on the oven and almost spill my coffee over when I realize the time. “Holy shit, it is that late.”
Kara laughs on the other end. “Like I said, are you on your way?”
I quickly dump my coffee into a travel mug and jump around while pulling my flats on. I press the phone to my ear as I gather my jacket and purse and fly out the door, locking it behind me.
“I am now. I can’t believe I’m going to be late. I’m so sorry. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
She laughs on the other end and I can hear her clicking away on her keyboard. “This is why I called because I’ve got some big news that I have to share with you and I need you here as soon as possible. So get moving, Chickie!”