All I Am: Drew's Story (This Man 3.5)

“Raya, I got scared.” I sigh, rubbing at my head. “I have no excuse. You did something to me that’s never happened before, and it scared me. My lifestyle, my daughter. It all became so real. I was going to tell you about her. I just didn’t know where to start.” I clench my eyes shut, regret eating me alive. “I should have had more faith in her. And in you.”

Finishing the bottle of wine, I toss it on the bed, starting to feel the glorious wooziness of alcohol taking over my mind. “Georgia asked me if I loved you. And you know what? I do. What else could explain this madness?”

I hear a knock at my front door, and I frown, pushing myself up to go answer it. I grab my phone off the bed and switch it off speaker, taking it to my ear. “You’re so young, Raya. And I’m so old and fucked up. With a kid.” I wobble through my lounge, blinking back the stars emerging in my vision. “I like binding women in chains, too.” I make it to the front door and clasp the knob. “And now I’m drunk and—” I lose my line when I pull the door open. “And you’re here,” I breathe, my phone plummeting to my side.

“I’m here,” Raya confirms softly, holding up her phone. “I got your message when I was boarding the plane.” Her thumb blindly pads the blank screen. “But my phone died and I couldn’t call you back.”

Hand lax on the door, I stare, lost in the moment, wondering whether I’m dreaming. Question whether I’m seeing things. Hearing things. “You weren’t on the plane,” I mumble, looking into the eyes that have consumed me whole from the moment I encountered them. There’s no sadness now. No dull, lifeless pits. I see only one thing. Hope.

“I wasn’t on the plane.” She takes a step forward. “And I need you to tell me that I’ve not made a huge mistake.”

Oxygen wakes me up when I inhale. My heart starts beating against those motherfucking chains, stretching them, forcing them to give under the power. I hold my phone up. No more holding back. No more questioning. No more caution and fear. “I’m a man touching forty and for the first time in my life, I’m in tatters over a woman. You, Raya.”

Her smile, although small and nervous, is so fucking bright. “I don’t care how old you are. I don’t care that you have a daughter. And I love your chains.” Closing the final bit of space between us, she looks up at me, hands in my hair, clenching, determined. “Without my grandpa, I didn’t know what to do with myself. “ A small kiss is pushed onto my lips. “I know he would have seen everything in you that I see. Strength. Devotion. I know he would have told me you’re worth the risk.”

“I’m no risk, Raye. I promise. I don’t want to be another reason for you to hurt, and I’ll do fucking anything to make sure I don’t.” She has to believe me.

She smiles. “I know that.”

Relief chokes me. It builds so fast and so furiously within me, there’s no outlet for it.

Other than my eyes. I breathe out and haul her into me, my face falling straight into her neck, needing to smell her, feel her. Needing to make such she’s flesh and bone and in my arms. “I’ve left you a really long voicemail,” I whisper. I want to remember what I said, want to relay each and every word, slowly and concisely, but they’re gone, vanished from my mind, something else replacing them.

Raya.

In my arms.

And, really, only three of those words matter, the three that scream the loudest. The three that I need to say over and again.

“I love you.”

Epilogue

I hope you’re happy here,” I say, handing the keys over to Annie Ryan.

“Thank you, Drew.” She tosses the keys in her hand, looking around the hallway. “I think I’m going to be very happy here.”

I take the handle of the front door and pull it open as she kicks a few of the letters at her feet, piles of correspondence that will never be read. Stepping out onto the street, I have a quick check of my phone. No missed calls. Where are they? “Any plans to knock the place about a bit?” I scan the street, left to right. Nothing. “Since you’re an architect and all.”

“A weekend scrubbing and a lick of paint is all it needs for now. The second bedroom will be my studio.” Her green eyes glimmer with excitement that I just can’t help but smile at. “Are you waiting for someone?” She looks past me, scanning the empty tree-lined street.

“Yeah,” I dial Raya, starting to worry. “Remember that really uncomfortable time when I asked your opinion on something entirely inappropriate?” I take my phone to my ear, and Annie smiles, wide and bright.

“Oh, your friend’s problem?”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah.”

“And the girl moving out of the country.”

“Oh, you mean my girlfriend?” It sounds so strange saying that.

“Ah, Drew!” Annie lightly punches my bicep. “So you asked her not to go.”

My phone rings off and I frown, having another quick scan of the street. “I did. She’s supposed to be meeting me here with my daughter.”

“You have a daughter?”

She sounds shocked. What’s most shocking is that I have a girlfriend. “I do, but I get the feeling that I’m not her favorite person anymore.”

Annie laughs, starting to collect up some of the envelopes littering the floor of her new hallway. “I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Her arm extends toward the road. “Oh, is this them?”

I crack my neck, quickly looking in her pointed direction, grinning wide when I find Raya and Georgia skipping down the road hand in hand. “This is them.” Peace and contentment wraps me in its warm embrace and squeezes tightly. “Isn’t that the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”

They come to a stop at the bottom of the steps, arms full of cuddly toys and cotton candy. “Hey, Dad!” Georgia flicks her head to rid her face of hair. “We’ve been to the fairground!”

I turn to Annie. “I’d better go.”

She nods past me. “They suit you.”

“I know.” I smile, sliding my phone back into my pocket. “Maybe your love’s next victim, Annie.”

She scoffs, truly amused. “Like I told you, Drew. Not even sizzles, so definitely no sparks.”

“Don’t sound so sure. These things bite you on the arse unexpectedly.”

She smiles, though it’s a space-filler, something to do other than tell me that there’s no arse-biting in her life likely to happen soon. “Enjoy them.”

“I will. Take care, Annie,” I say, because if there’s one thing I’ve figured out about Annie Ryan in the short time I’ve known her, it’s that she’s quite happy taking care of herself. She doesn’t need a man, but does she want one?

I head down the steps and scoop up my girl, taking a bite of her candyfloss. “How much of this stuff have you had?”

“There’s no hope of her sleeping on the plane.” Raya slides an arm under my suit jacket and attaches herself to my side, and like a magnet, my arm wraps around her shoulder and pulls her in, because she isn’t close enough.

I drop a kiss on the forehead of each of my girls and start walking us to the car. “We all packed?”

“Yes!” Georgia is about to burst with excitement. “I have two new bikinis and a sparkly dress, too,” she declares.

“Bikinis?” I question, turning nervous eyes onto Raya. A shake of her head, no words, tells me not to worry. “And Grandpa?” I ask.

“He’s all set.” Raya burrows her face into my chest, her palm resting on Georgia’s dangling leg down my front.

“Then let’s get him back to Australia.”

If happiness was a chain, it would be platinum with solid hearts between every link and entwined around my swelling heart.

I’m chained, make no mistake, but I’m the most free I’ve ever been.

Don’t miss THE FORBIDDEN, a new story of dangerous temptations from #1 New York Times bestselling author Jodi Ellen Malpas, available in August 2017.

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I gather up the rema

ining glasses and make to turn, being sure to maintain my stability. Not that I’m stubborn or anything. I’m not drunk.

“Care to prove it?” he asks, pulling me to a stop. A challenge?

I risk a peek at him out of the corner of my eye and find the most gorgeous smile on his already gorgeous face. Where the hell did he come from?

Prove it? “How?” I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.

“Take the shots to your friends.” He nods past me, and I look over to see my friends all now gathered around the tall table, Micky’s arms flying in the air dramatically, the girls laughing. I manage to note that Dishy Man here knows who I’m with. How long has he been here? There’s no way he would have slipped under any of the girls’ Hot-Man Radar. “Then come back to see me, if you want,” he adds quietly.

If I want? Do I want? I have another quick peek up at him. He’s still smiling. It’s a dangerous smile. Very dangerous. He’s too handsome to be harmless.

I slink off, shamelessly adopting a mild sway of my arse as I go, resisting the urge to see if he’s watching me. He is watching me. I just know it, and it’s got me all hot and bothered.

Lizzy is on me like a pouncing tiger when I arrive back at the table. “Who in God’s name is that?” she asks, eyes wide with excitement as she takes a shot.

“I don’t know,” I reply, downing the last shot myself instead of giving it up to any one of my friends, all the while feeling the magnetic pull of the man behind me, my body tightening with the strain it’s taking not to turn and seek him out again.

“Annie, I know you’re pretty much immune to men, but this is taking the piss. He’s watching you.”

Immune? I’m not sure I’d say immune. I’ve just never felt anything close to special. So why the hell am I tingling all over and trembling like a fool? I don’t feel very immune now. “He can watch.”

She gapes at me. “Well, if you won’t talk to him, then I will, since I’m single now.” Pushing past me, she slaps a smile on her face and heads toward the bar, and my man.

I have no idea what comes over me, but the next moment my hand has shot out and I’ve seized Lizzy’s wrist, yanking her to a stop. I squeeze my eyes shut, annoyed with myself. “Just hold up one minute.” I breathe in deeply and turn in to her. “A rebound fuck with a stranger isn’t the way forward.”

She’s holding back a grin that will probably split her face if it escapes. She has me. For the first time—probably ever—a man has caught my attention. I shouldn’t read too much into it. I expect this particular man has caught every woman’s attention, the unholy, good-looking son of a bitch.

Leaning into me, Lizzy pushes her mouth to my ear, just as my eyes fall onto him again. He’s still watching me. Intently, almost challengingly. “He looks like a hard fucker,” Lizzy whispers, giggling as she breaks away, giving me a coy look. “Do womankind a favor and get laid.” She nods past me. “By him.”

“I’m just going to talk to him,” I protest, leaving my friend behind and giving in to the pull luring me back to him. I drink in air and start a steady pace toward him, dropping my bottom lip from between my teeth when I realize I’m biting it.

He maintains a serious face, watching me as he leans on the bar casually. “I believe I saw a slight stagger,” he says, raising his eyebrows.

He’s just too fucking handsome for his own good. And, undoubtedly, my good, too. “Sober,” I mouth, leaning next to him at the bar.

Keeping his eyes on mine, he calls to the barman. “Two tequilas, please.”

“Tequila,” I muse, looking over my shoulder when the salt and lemon land behind me. “Is that my challenge?”

“Crying off?” he goads, reaching into his pocket and pulling out some notes.

“Never,” I scoff, turning into the bar. I don’t know what his game is, but I want to play. With him. “You’re asking me to prove I’m sober by doing a shot?” I narrow my eyes on him, teasing. “Or is your plan to get me drunk and take advantage of me?”

He smiles to himself as he pays the barman. “You don’t look like the kind of woman who could be taken advantage of.”

“What kind of woman do I look like, then?” I challenge quietly.

He turns into me, watching me for a few moments. “I don’t know, but I think I’d like to find out.”

I hold his gaze for a few seconds, no retort coming to me. I think I want him to find out, too, just as much as I want to find out what kind of man he is. My eyes drop from his sparkling grays, down his tall, lean frame to his feet.

Oh…fuck…

“Let’s play,” he says, moving in closer and pulling one of the glasses forward. I don’t mean to, but I yank my arm away abruptly when he brushes against me, startled by the tiny stabs of pleasure that pitter-patter all over my skin. The fleeting touch tells me he would feel as good as he looks, and—give me strength—he smells divine, all manly and earthy and fucking edible.

The sudden lapse in movement and talking from both of us becomes slightly awkward. I can feel him looking down at me.

“What do I have to do?” I ask again quietly, almost on a breathy gasp.

He clears his throat. “You’re not drunk?”

“Not even the slightest bit.” I raise my nose in the air.

“Good. Then you’ll smash this challenge first time.” He places a finger on the brim of one of the shot glasses. “Brace your palms on the edge of the bar,” he orders, firm but softly. I look at him, finding a serious face. “Go on.”

Frowning, I place my hands on the edge of the bar. “Okay?”

He takes my hips. He takes my fucking hips! I freeze from top to toe and swallow hard, waiting. My insides are quickly furling, my mind in chaos. “Move back a bit,” he says, pulling at them a little until I step back.

Oh, Jesus. I’m on fire. I have a strange man bending me over a bar in public, and me, Annie I’m-immune-to-men Ryan, isn’t fighting him off. It’s like he has me under a spell. What gives? I dare not look behind me. I’m not stupid enough to think Lizzy isn’t currently watching a man manipulate my body to where he wants it.

“You feel tense,” he observes, releasing me and moving back to my side.

I don’t deny it; neither do I confirm it. His big hands felt so good resting on my hips, so much so that I have to resist not claiming them and putting them back where they were. “What now?” I ask, evidently struggling for air, damn me.

“Now.” He picks up his beer and grins. “I get to gloat that I had you bent over a bar within five minutes of meeting you.” He takes a swig, still grinning, and I hear the roar of a man down the bar laughing his head off.

Oh, the fucker! Part of me has admiration. Another part of me wants to slap him stupid; I don’t care how beautiful he is. And another part of me wants to rip his clothes from his body and ravish the sly bastard.

I cannot believe I fell for it! How many women has he played like a fiddle? I drop my head, shaking it to myself.

I knew that smile was dangerous. A man who can bend a woman to his will so easily and so soon couldn’t be anything less than lethal. And the fact that he got me with his wicked game means hats off to him. I can’t possibly take that away from him, and since I’m lacking in the dignity department right now, I decide not to slap him. Nor will I chuck a drink over his head, or fire a load of verbal abuse at him.

I’ll do what he least expects.

I push myself up and turn to face him, unable to stop myself from smiling at his half-grin. Holding his gaze, I slowly lick the back of my hand, blindly take the salt off the bar, sprinkle a bit, and take one of the shots of tequila. But as I’m taking my hand to my mouth to lick the salt up, he seizes my wrist and takes the shot from my other hand. My heartbeat accelerates, our eyes glued to each other as he moves into me and slowly brings my hand to his mouth. I watch, gripped, as he lazily licks up the salt from the back of my hand, eyes on mine, and then knocks the tequila back. Kill me now, for I will certainly die a happy woman. His tongue o

n my skin. His eyes boring into mine. His hold of my wrist. I must look like a statue—unable to talk, move, or think clearly.

“There’s one more tequila,” he says, cocking his head toward the bar but keeping me in his sights. “And it’s yours.”

Oh good lord. My heart is speeding up by the second as I watch him lick the back of his hand and sprinkle some salt. Then he offers it to me. I stare at his hand, and then slowly look up at