**Smashword Edition**
Torn from You
Published by
Cindy Paterson
Copyright ©
2013 by Nashoda Rose
Toronto,
Canada
ISBN:
978-0-9917327-2-2
Copyright
© 2013 Cover by Kari Ayasha,
Cover to Cover Designs
Edited by
Kristin Anders,
The Romantic Editor
Formatting by
Self Publishing Editing
Service
The characters
and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to
real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by
the author.
All rights
reserved. This book may not be reproduced, scanned or distributed
in any printed or electronic form without the permission of the
author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical
articles and reviews.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal
enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to
other people. If you would like to share this book with another
person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If
you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not
purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite
ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting
the hard work of this author.
Warning: This book contains offensive
language, abuse, very disturbing scenes and sexual content.
Dedication
Bloggers, Reviewers, Goodread and Facebook Friends,
this book is dedicated to you. Thank you for all your support and
kind words. My dream is alive because of you.
When I woke it was dark outside, and I was
snuggled in Sculpt’s arms, sitting between his legs, his lean, hard
body draped around me. His fingers slowly stroked my outer thigh
while his other hand rested on my abdomen, one finger circling my
belly button. I turned to look up at him over my shoulder. He was
staring out across the moonlit field, observing the horses in the
distance.
“Eme.” He leaned into me further and kissed
the side of my neck.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. It
must have been your sexy, raspy voice.” I cuddled closer, and his
arm tightened. “Did you finish the song?” His guitar lay in its
case next to us.
“Yeah, Mouse. It’s good.”
I sat up, excited for him. He’d told me last
week that he hadn’t written anything for the band in a year. I had
yet to see them play, and I was excited to hear them, but nervous
too. I mean, Sculpt was six foot three and all muscle. He has what
I call sexy bedroom hair, always a little messy with the odd lazy
curl that falls over his face. And he had ink running down his left
arm to his elbow, which made the hot a scary, badass hot. Then put
in that fact that he was in a band and did some illegal underground
fighting ... Well girls were no doubt all over him, and I wasn’t
ready to face the reality of what dating Sculpt entailed.
We’d been hanging out ever since I asked him
to help me learn how to fight a couple months ago. I was assaulted
a week before I sought out Sculpt, coming home from my friend
Georgie’s coffee shop where I work. I’d been so shocked and
terrified that when my assaulter pushed me to the ground I just
froze.
When I pulled my head out of deep freeze, I
managed to bite his hand and scream my head off, which scared the
guy away. After that I was on a mission to learn how to fight back.
Sculpt, being an underground fighter was the perfect choice. I’d
also heard he needed money to go on tour with his band, and I was
willing to pay.
He never let me.
I reached up and ran my finger over the
slight indent in his chin. “Can I hear it?”
He shook his head, and despite his lack of
smile, because he rarely did smile, I saw the flicker of amusement
in his eyes. “No, Eme. You’ll hear it with the band on stage and me
singing to you.” The amusement left his eyes, and I felt him
stiffen. “Did you think about what I asked?”
I knew exactly what he was referring to. I
had a perpetual war in my head for the last three days—I wasn’t
ready to have my heart blasted with porcupine quills when Sculpt
left me to go on tour, but I also wasn’t ready to go on the road
with a group of guys I hadn’t even met yet and have Sculpt
responsible for me. I planned on starting college in a month. I had
a life here with my best friend Kat and her brother Matt who were
also my roommates and my only family.
Ever since grade school when Kat and I had
started hanging out, Matt had been there for the both of us. He was
eighteen and Kat ten when their parents died in a drinking and
driving accident. He’d instantly become Kat’s guardian. Since I no
longer had a dad, Matt sort of became the male figure in my life. I
looked up to him.
I’d snuck in Kat’s bedroom window numerous
times after running away from my mom’s when she brought a new
boyfriend home. Matt never kicked me out, never told me to go home,
nor did he call my mom. Instead, he bought me a cell phone,
programmed his number in it, and told me if I ever needed to get
out of my house that I was to call him, and he’d come get me.
The three of us were close and even though I
didn’t want Sculpt to leave, I couldn’t see myself leaving
either.
“Eme.” His arms tightened around me. “Tell
me.” He shifted, easily picking me up under the arms and bringing
me around so I sat facing him, my legs bent on either side of him.
It was intimate, and Christ, it was hard to resist him and not just
say screw it and tell him how I feel and go with him. “Eme, tell
me.”
“Tell you what?”
He watched me carefully, eyes unwavering.
“You know what I’m asking, but this once I’ll indulge you. Tell me
you don’t want more.”
Shit. He knew I was crazy about him. I’d
been trying to keep my feelings ... well hidden, somewhat. It
obviously wasn’t working. I licked my lips and tried to look away,
but he was ready for that and held my head between his hands.
“Eme.”
I was so not good at this. The last person I
expressed my feelings to was my dad while he lay in the hospital
dying of lung cancer.