Home > Those Boys Are Trouble(198)

Those Boys Are Trouble(198)
Author: Willow Winters

He walks up behind me at the back of my desk and rests his hands on my shoulders, but other than that, he doesn’t interrupt. It only takes a minute for me to finish my thought and when I do, I’m quick to look up at him and give him a small smile. I reach my hand behind his neck and pull him down to me for a kiss.

“Mmm.” He hums against my lips. “What is my naughty girl up to?” I blush at his low tone and rest my head against his chest.

“I wanted to write our story.” I feel him stiffen behind me, but I keep going and decide to spill it all. “All of our stories.”

“Kitten,” Anthony says in an admonishing tone.

“No, no. It’s fiction. Under a pen name. No one will ever know.” I look up at him searching for approval. I love romance novels, and I just have to write all these love stories I’ve heard. The whole family is filled with fairytales, albeit dirty smutty fairytales, that have to be told. I’ve never felt compelled so much in my life to write them down. Ours will be last, because in my completely unbiased opinion, it’s the best.

He smirks at me and places a hand on the nape of my neck, massaging slightly. “Can I read them?”

“If you want to.” I wouldn’t be shocked if he did. He reads over my work from time to time. I used to think he was making sure that I wasn’t trying to put clues or hints out there for someone to come rescue me from him. As if. But then he started doing things in bed that were incredibly familiar from my blogs and columns.

“Well, I definitely want to read ours. I wanna know what my kitten was thinking when I brought her home.” He smiles warmly at me with love in his eyes before leaning down to give me a sweet kiss. My chest warms with his affection.

“I have a question I need to know… for the story.” I don’t know what he’ll answer. But I really do want to know. “Why didn’t you have me call you master?” I ask him.

It takes him a moment to answer. “I knew from the second I saw you that I would be just as much a slave to you as you would ever be to me. If not more.” Tears prick my eyes. I fucking love his answer. “Doesn’t matter what you call me, babe,” he says as he tips my chin up so I have to look at him, “You’ll always be my kitten.”

“You’ll always be my bad boy.” That earns me a chuckle as I lean into his chest savoring how happy we both are.

It might not be ideal or perfect, but I’m more than satisfied with my happily ever after.

 

 

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There are many moving parts in this world. If you haven’t read Carter’s saga, starting with Merciless available on Kindle Unlimited, I highly suggest you do that now. His story is just as intense and a tale that will stay with me forever. I hope these words stay with you as well. Keep reading for a sneak peek!

 

 

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Sneak Peek at Merciless

 

 

From USA Today bestselling author W Winters comes a heart-wrenching, edge-of-your-seat gripping, romantic suspense.

 

I should’ve known she would ruin me the moment I saw her.

Women like her are made to destroy men like me.

I couldn’t resist her though.

Given to me to start a war; I was too eager to accept.

 

But I didn’t know what she’d do to me. That she would change everything.

She sees through me in a way no one else ever has.

Her innocence and vulnerability make me weak for her and I hate it.

I know better than to give in to temptation.

 

A ruthless man doesn’t let a soul close to him.

A cold-hearted man doesn’t risk anything for anyone.

A powerful man with a beautiful woman at his mercy … he doesn’t fall for her.

 

 

Chapter 1

 

 

Carter

 

 

War is coming.

It’s something I’ve known for over two years.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

My jaw ticks in time with the skin over my knuckles turning white as my fist clenches tighter. The tension in my stiff shoulders rises and I have to remind myself to breathe in deep and let the strain of it all go away.

Tick. Tock. It’s the only sound echoing off the walls of my office and with each passing of the pendulum the anger grows.

It’s always like this before I go to a meet. This one in particular sends a thrill through my blood, the adrenaline pumping harder with each passing minute.

My gaze moves from the grandfather clock in my office to the shelves next to it and then beneath them to the box made of mahogany and steel. It’s only three feet deep and tall and six feet long. It blends into the right wall of my office, surrounded by polished bookshelves that carry an aroma of old books.

I paid more than I should have simply to put on display. All any of this is a façade. People’s perceptions are their reality. And so I paint the picture they need to see so I can use them as I see fit. The expensive books and paintings, polished furniture made of rare wood… All of it is bullshit.

Except for the box. The story that came with it will stay with me forever. In all of the years, it’s the one of the few memories that I can pin point as a defining moment. The box never leaves me.

The words from the man who gave it to me are still as clear as is the memory of his pale green eyes, glassed over as he told me his story.

About how it kept him safe when he was a child. He told me how his mother had shoved him in it to protect him.

I swallow thickly, feeling my throat tighten and the cord in my neck strain with the memory. He painted the picture so well.

He told me how he clung to his mother seeing how panicked she was. But he did as he was told, he stayed quiet in the safe box and could only listen while the men murdered his mother.

It was the story he gave me with the box he offered to barter for his life. And it reminded me of my own mother telling me goodbye before she passed.

Yes, his story was touching, but the defining moment is when I put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger regardless.

He tried to steal from me and then pay me with a box as if the money he laundered was a debt or a loan. William was good at stealing, at telling stories, but the fucker was a dumb prick.

I didn’t get to where I am by playing nicely and being weak. That day I took the box that saved him as a reminder of who I was. Who I needed to be.

I made sure that box has been within my sight for every meeting I’ve had in this office. It’s a reminder for me so I can stare at it in this god forsaken room as I make deal after deal with criminal after criminal and collect wealth and power like the dusty old books on these shelves.

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