Once she’s given it up…she’s mine forever
I’d waited so long.
Then fate delivered my dream man, Oh, he was beautiful. Hot blue eyes, a dimple in his chin, lean muscles, and big, thick, manly hands. With the power of a tornado he swept me off my feet and rose me up to unimaginable heights. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.
But I wasn’t special, just a one-night stand for him. He disappeared from my life before I had time even to catch my breath.
I picked up the pieces of my broken heart and moved on. Now, when I least expect it, his ocean blue eyes are burning right through me again, and all those crazy-intense feelings…they’ve come back as if I didn’t spend years burying them.
I still crave him like a drug, but I’m not available anymore. I’m trapped in a loveless relationship with a very dangerous man. Saving me from my nightmare is not an option.
But can my heart really survive his loss again" Or do I risk it all and give him complete possession of me"
The moment I saw Izzy I knew she was special. We just clicked. I took her back to my hotel room, and I was right. She was fuckin’ perfection. I took her sweet Innocence. She had to be somewhere else in the morning so we agreed to meet that night.
Fate had other plans though. I got a call from my dying friend’s girlfriend. He needed me. I had no way to contact Izzy so I left a message for her at the restaurant with my number and flew out of the country. Long story short: she didn’t get my message.
But I never forgot her. I can close my eyes now and see her straddled over my hips, her skin glistening with sweat, her long blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders, and her eyes half-closed with pleasure.
Then, out of the blue, I run into her. She’s still so fuckin’ beautiful.
All I want to do is just get between those creamy thighs and pick up where we left off. My need is raw and visceral and real, but she says there’s someone else now. She’s hooked up with some brute. A low life with a powerful father who won’t let her go.
I see fear in her eyes, and it fills me with a raging fury.
She’s mine and we both know it. I claimed her that night in the hotel room in Paris.
Now fate has put her back in my path…and nothing and no one is going to stop me taking back what’s mine.Books by Author:Georgia Le Carre Books
(Eight Years Old)
"Oh! My God. Your face. What happened"" my mother screams as she rushes towards me.
"Nothing," I mutter, taking a step back.
She grasps my chin roughly in her hand and turns my face left then right while her eyes examine my face. It"s afternoon and I can already smell the reek of alcohol on her breath. "Who did this to you"" she demands.
I shrug. Even having her hand on my face is painful, but I don"t allow myself to flinch.
"Tell me," she commands, her eyes flashing with fury.
"Tyson Friedman, if you don"t tell me right now, I swear, I"m going to ground you for a whole week."
I stare into her eyes rebelliously. Let her. I don"t care if she does.
"Please, Ty, tell me," she begs. She knows I can never resist her when she pleads for something.
"Johnny Matteson called you a whore, and said I was the son of a gyppo. I punched him and his gang jumped on me."
She blinks in shock then draws a sharp breath. I see her throat work as she swallows hard. Releasing my chin, she straightens. Her eyes flick away from me as she sways unsteadily inside her dressing gown. On TV the music for Countdown starts. It is one of her favorite shows. My mother is clever and often she has the answers before the clock stops ticking. Her hands shake as she flicks a lock of hair from her forehead.
"Mary Mayweather must have started that rumor. I"ll go to the school tomorrow and talk to the headmaster," she says vaguely. We both know she"ll do no such thing. By tonight she"ll be so drunk she"ll have forgotten the entire incident.
I touch her arm. "Is it true" Is my father a gyppo""
She drops to her knees, her eyes suddenly fierce. She still loves him. Desperately. "He"s not a " gyppo. He"s a traveler. A wild and beautiful gypsy."
I stare at her face curiously. How transformed it is when she speaks of him. "Where is he now""
She shakes her head. "It"s not important."
"Tell me about my father, Mom. Please." I look at her with begging eyes.
"When you grow up I"ll tell you."
I shake my head in frustration. "Why should Mary Mayweather know more about my father than me" If you don"t tell me I"ll never be able to protect myself against the lies of Johnny Matteson and the other kids."
For a long time she says nothing. Then she nods. "Come," she says, and takes me to her room. It smells in mom"s room of stale sweat and alcohol. She sits on the bed and pats the place next to her. I position myself beside her. Taking a deep breath, she opens her drawer and pulls out an old Bible. From between the pages she pulls out a polaroid strip. One of those you get from photo booths. She strokes the length of it lovingly before she hands it to me. "That"s your father."
I take it in my hand and stare at the picture. I cannot believe that young laughing girl who looks so full of life and vitality is my mom. She is unrecognizable. I stare at the man, drinking in his features. He has the same coloring as me, straight dark hair and bright blue eyes.
"Does he know about me""
"He knew I was pregnant."
"Where is he now"" I gasp. My voice is awed. All my life I"ve wondered about my father. My mother never wanted to speak of him. Every time I asked she would start crying so I stopped asking, even though the questions burned inside me.
She smiles sadly. "He lives in Chertsey."
"Can we go and see him""
Tears start rolling down her eyes. "No."
I take her hand in mine. Already mine are almost as big as hers. "Don"t cry, Mom. Please, don"t cry." I hate to see my mother cry, but I have to know about my father. I want my father to come and save us. I want him to make my mother stop drinking. I want her to go back to being the happy girl in the picture. "Does he not want us""
She shakes her head.
"Why"" I whisper.
"Because "" her voice trembles, "because " he already has another family."
My eyes widen with astonishment. "Another family"" I echo.
"Yes, he has a wife and children," she sobs.
"Children" He has other children."
"Yes." She closes her eyes and tries to compose herself.
"Three boys and a girl."
"I have three half brothers and a half sister."
"Yes," she admits.
"Do they know about me""
She shakes her head vigorously. "No. No one knows about us. And you must promise never to tell anyone about this."
"What"s my father"s name""
"It"s not important."
"Tell me. I must know. I have a right, Mom."
"What difference would it make""
"I want to know. I deserve to know."
She bites her lip.
"Please, Mom. I"ll never tell."