Hungry For Her: A Small Town Mafia Holiday Romance Read online

  I think I was just in a strange place. I was vulnerable, still reeling after my mom passing. Joey swooped in, and suddenly we were a thing. In hindsight, I don’t even know when that happened.

  At first, he was just kind of annoyingly cocky. Then the cockiness started to turn into assholeness. Then I started catching him sexting other girls. Or staying out late and coming back reeking of perfume and sex. It didn’t break my heart or anything like that. It just made me feel worthless.

  I called it off a couple of times. The first two times, he broke down crying and promised to change. He begged and then just sort of decided that we were back together. The third time though, when I said I was leaving, he snapped.

  That was the first time he hit me. After that, it became a regular thing. After that, I didn’t leave because I was terrified of him hurting me. Or killing me. On the plus side, after that, the only time he ever touched me was to slap me around. He found other girls to touch in other ways, which was more than fine by me.

  When my Grams called to finally spill that she’d had cancer and needed some help, that’s when I snapped. I packed a bag, got on a bus, and never looked back. After a few weeks, Joey stopped calling and texting. And life has been a whole lot better ever since.

  The phone rings again in my hand. I tremble, staring at it. I almost answer to tell him to get lost. But instead, I decline the call. It’s not even out of anger. I just never need to think of the asshole ever again.

  I keep walking back to my truck. But suddenly, tires squeal next to me. I gasp and look up as a sleek black BMW roars to a stop. My heart stops cold. I know that car.

  “Ignoring my fucking calls, you bitch?!” Joey sneers at me as he gets out of the car. I want to run. But fear and dread turn me into a statute. I want to scream, but I’m frozen.

  “You think you can walk out on me?” he roars. He storms towards me. “On me, you fucking cunt!?”

  “Joey,” I gasp. “What… please leave me…”

  “Leave you alone?” He sneers. “Fuck that. You don’t run out on me, bitch. Let’s go, now!”

  Something snaps me out of my stupor. “What?”

  “Let’s go, Sophie!” He yells. People across the street stop to see what’s going on. But no one comes over.

  “Joey, go where…”

  “Back to Chicago. Fuckin let’s go! Now!”

  I blink and scowl at him. “Excuse me?! I’m not going anywhere—” I gasp when he storms over to me. He grabs my wrist, making me cold.

  “You embarrassed me, you fucking cunt. You know that? You embarrassed me to people I don’t need to be embarrassed in front of.”

  I swallow. “You embarrassed yourself, asshole,” I hiss. “And let fucking go of me. This is over, Joey. It was over months ago. You remember, when I left?”

  He sneers at me. “Get in the fucking car.”

  “Get your fucking hands—”

  The slap makes me see stars. I gasp. I stagger back, holding my face. My head spins. Fear cuts me like a knife. I look up at Joey in horror and fear. “Please…”

  “Get in fucking car,” he snarls. “Right now.”

  “Joey…”

  I scream when he marches over. He grabs me and hits me again. I cry out, but no one steps in. He hits me a third time, making me see stars. He hauls his hand back to strike me again. But suddenly, he gets hit by a truck.

  Not a real one. But the speed that he gets knocked sideways makes me thing it is at first. But it’s not a truck, it’s a man. I blink in shock. My head feels fuzzy from the hits. But when I focus, I realize what I’m looking at.

  It’s Edward. He’s roaring like an animal, standing astride Joey, who’s on the sidewalk. Edward doesn’t look like the grumpy but gorgeous baker I met before. He looks like a beast. He looks like a devil, roaring in fury.

  His fists slam into Joey. He’s beating the absolute shit out of him. He’s barking at my ex, telling him to get up, only to punch him in the face again. I stare in horror. But, it’s not really horror. Actually, the more I watch, the more I understand the feeling.

  It’s arousal. It’s arousal in a sick, maybe fucked up way. But watching Edward smack my abuser around is actually hot. It feels like he’s protecting me. It’s like he’s defending my honor. Which is very sexy.

  But suddenly, he stops cold. Edward freezes, his hand raised to hit Joey again. He looks around at the small crowd of people watching him from across the street. Suddenly, he drops Joey. He steps back. He turns to look at me, his face pale and his jaw clenched.

  “I—I have to go.”

  “Wait!” I gasp. I rush over to him as he turns. I grab his wrist and pull him back. He turns, looming over me. God he’s so big. And so hardened with muscle. “Wait, please, I just…”

  I just what? I want to tell him how hot it was watching him just now? I want to tell him that I’m kind of obsessed with him after meeting him once? Yeah, sure. Nothing psycho about any of that.

  “I have to go, Sophie,” he growls softly. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper. “For doing that.”

  He nods. He glances around at the people again. His jaw clenches. He turns back to me and his eyes burn into mine. Then he pulls away, turns, and runs back to his store. The door slams shut behind him.

  I hear a wheezing sound. I turn to see Joey pulling himself into his car again. He glances at me once, looking terrified. I glare back, and he quickly shuts the door to his car. He roars the engine and speeds off out of sight.

  I turn back to Edward’s store. But just as I do, the “Closed” sign flips behind the glass.

  I’m buzzing. Everything that just happened has my adrenaline coursing through me. But it’s more than the attack or seeing Joey. It’s Edward.

  It’s Edward looking like a savage, gorgeous beast while saving me. That’s what has my pulse racing.

  5

  Caulter

  I shouldn’t have done that.

  I shake my head, frowning deeply. I stare at my phone. I should call Marshall and tell him what happened. I should tell him what I did. Hell, it would probably get me yanked out of this town and this identity so fast my head would spin.

  And I want that, right? I want out of this place. I want a new identity that isn’t fucking Edward. I used to think I wanted my old life back, but I know I don’t actually. I had nothing back then. Just my anger and my rage.

  But I don’t call Marshall to tell him about what happened. And I think I know why. It’s Sophie. Yesterday, if I had an ace to play like getting into a very public fist fight, I’d have played it. I’d have called Marshall, told him, and packed my shit. I’d be in a new small town somewhere, with a new story and a new name in no time.

  But I’m hesitating. I don’t want to play that card, because it really would mean leaving here. Tonight, maybe. Within the week for sure. Like I said, yesterday I wanted that. Today, I don’t know if I do. I don’t think I do at all, actually. Not after Sophie.

  I shake my head. I’m acting like a fucking psycho. I’ve met the girl twice. Three times if you count beating the hell out of that guy who hit her earlier. So why does she have her claws into me so deep? Why does the idea of leaving this place and never seeing her again make me furious?

  It’s hours after the fight, and I’m out back in my apartment. Behind the shop is an old garage I’ve converted to a loft apartment and big open kitchen and baking space. I lean against a prep table and scowl at my knuckles. I’m wrapping them with tape after dressing the cuts on them from the fight.

  I smirk. Not a fight, more like an ass whooping. I don’t know who that little fuck was. But he laid hands on her, and I snapped. I ran off before I could ask her who he was. But it’s also none of my business. Hell, she shouldn’t be any of my business either. That’s the whole fucking point of being out here. Keep my head down. Keep my shit to myself.

  Getting involved in whatever that was? That wasn’t keeping my head down. Fuck, half the town watched me beat the fuck out of that asshole. But I know in my heart I’d do it again. Fuck a low profile. Fuck Marshall. I’d do it all again, for her. For Sophie.

  I close my eyes and lean against the table. I think of her, and I grin hungrily. I remember her hair glowing in the sunlight through the shop window. I remember the scent of her when I got close. I think of the smoothness of her small hand in my big one. I groan. Lust burns in me. And it burns hot.

  It burns so hot that all of my body reacts to it. My muscles tighten. My hands clench along with my jaw. My cock thickens in my jeans. I groan and reach for it. I cup my bulge through the denim and squeeze. I hiss in pleasure.

  Christ, it’s been a long time. A very, very long time. It’s been years since I was with a woman. But I think of Sophie, and I simmer with want. I need her. I crave her. Part of me wants to yank my jeans open and take care of this right here and now. But I take a breath. I get ahold of myself.

  No, I can’t go there. I’m in danger enough from the attention that today might have brought. I can’t bring that attention on her too.

  Instead, I take another breath, and turn back to my worktable. Time to bake. I know it’s not “manly” to do so. But what the fuck do I care? I stopped giving a shit about trying to impress people or live up to their ideals a long time ago. And fuck it, I like baking.

  I’m engrossed in some compote when I hear a knock at the garage door. I frown and look up. My eyes dart to the baseball bat I keep next to the door. Then to the wardrobe in the corner that I’ve hidden a shotgun on top of. Old habits die hard.

  I skip the gun. I do grab the bat though. I unlock the side door and swing it open. I don’t know what or who I was excepting. But it sure as hell wasn’t her.

  “Hi,” Sophie breathes quietly. She s
miles at me through a deep blush.

  “Hey,” I growl. I hold her gaze with mine. I never want to let it go, either.

  Her eyes drop to the bat in my hand. She frowns. “Um…”

  “Sorry,” I grunt. I put it down and lean it against the wall.

  “Off to play some ball or something?” She grins.

  I smile. “Or something.”

  Sophie bites her lip. “I just…”

  “You shouldn’t be here,” I growl softly. She shouldn’t. I can’t even tell her why, but it’s dangerous. My actions today might have been nothing in the grand scheme of things. But people talk. People take cell phone videos and put them on Facebook. If the wrong people are looking for me and see the right thing, it could lead them here.

  That’s heat I can deal with. But it won’t be heat I’d ever want her to have to deal with.

  “Oh, I…” she frowns. She looks at her feet and then up at me. My heart beats a little faster. My whole body feels warmer with her here. “I just wanted to thank you. For earlier.”

  I don’t ask who the guy was. Again, it’s nothing I need to be involved in. Even though I’m well aware that beating him senseless makes me very much involved.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I shrug. “And you don’t have to thank me.”

  “I’m pretty sure I do, actually,” she says. “That guy…”

  “It’s none of my business.”

  She smiles thinly. “Ex-boyfriend,” she grimaces. Just hearing the word makes my teeth grind. I feel rage and jealousy. It makes me wish I hadn’t stopped beating the little fuck.

  I frown. “Does he do that a lot?”

  “What, hit me?”

  I nod, growling lowly. Sophie looks at her hands.

  “He did, when I was back in Chicago. I wanted to leave so many times…”

  “You don’t have to explain,” I growl. It was a lifetime ago, but I can still remember the way my father hurt my mother. That sort of shit doesn’t ever go away. I remember asking her to leave him a million times. She never did. No matter how bruised she got. Not many how many cracked ribs he gave her.

  But that fault never lands on the one getting smacked around. That fault is firmly on the shoulders of the piece of shit doing the hitting.

  “I left Chicago a few months ago to come out here. My grandmother was sick and needed some help. And I used to come here all the time when I was young.”

  I smile. “It’s a nice little town.” What am I saying? Up until the moment she walked through my door, I wanted to get the fuck out of here. I wanted a do-over on my do-over. But that’s all changing, because of her.

  “Anyways, thank you,” she says again. “For stopping him.”

  “Well, he’s not going to beat up on you again,” I growl. I need to walk away. I need to shut this down, now.

  She smiles. “Thanks.”

  “No, I mean that.” Anger at him flows through me. But it’s the raw need to protect her that wins. It’s an unhinged desire to keep her safe. To shield her from any harm, by any means necessary. Even if it means exposing myself to those who are looking for me.

  “He’s not,” I growl. “Not ever.”

  She grins and laughs softly. “What are you going to do, follow me around protecting me?”

  “Yes.”

  She blinks quickly. Her smile fades. She chews her lip, and her eyes hold mine. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “I’m rarely not serious.”

  She blushes. “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why did you step in today?”

  “Because of course I did,” I grunt. “Because someone had to.”

  “No one else did.”

  “No one else wants you like I…” I stop short. I growl and grind my jaw. Sophie blushes. Her eyes widen. “Nothing.”

  “No, what were you-”

  “Nothing,” I growl again. “You should go.”

  I turn to close the door on her. I don’t want to. I know it will pain me to do so. But I have to. For her. But as I turn, a small, soft hand touches my arm.

  “Edward,” she whispers.

  I freeze. My eyes squeeze shut. I take a breath. I need to walk away from this. I might want her more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life. She might be the warmest, brightest spot on a life lived in cold darkness. But I can’t.

  “Goodbye, Sophie.”

  “No!” she says quickly. Her grip tightens on my arm. “No, what were you—”

  “Sophie, please,” I hiss. “You need to walk away from me.”

  “I don’t want to do that.”

  “Well, you have to,” I snap. I’m still turned away from her. I can’t look at her, or I’ll break.

  “Why?!” She snaps. “Just tell me why and I’ll walk away.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  She takes a breath. My resolve is slipping by the second. If she doesn’t leave right now, I’m going to snap. And when I snap, there’s no going back. If she doesn’t walk away from me right now, I’m never letting her walk away.

  “Edward, what were you about to—”

  Snap. There it is. I whirl, snarling at her. She gasps at my ferociousness as I grab her hips tight. I groan, pulling her against me. Fire burns in my veins.

  “I was going to say that I want you, Sophie,” I snarl. “I was going to say that I’ve never felt like this. I was going to tell you that you’re the best, brightest thing I’ve ever seen or felt in my life. I was going to say that I can’t get you off of my fucking mind.”

  She stares at me. Her face is pink, her eyes wide. Her lips move, but no words come out of them.

  “I—”

  “I can’t get you off of my fucking mind, Sophie,” I groan. “And I’m pretty sure I don’t fucking want to, either.”

  I yank her against me. I lean down, and I kiss her hard.

  6

  Sophie

  The second he kisses me I know it’s all over. I know I’m done for. I know in one single second that this man is going to ruin me for any other man. But I also know that I don’t care. One kiss. One kiss after meeting him twice and I know that won’t be a problem.

  I know there won’t ever be another man after him.

  I moan against his lips. His huge hands grip my waist tight, squeezing. His huge body presses into me, making me tremble with heat. He groans into my mouth. He kisses me like I belong to him; like I’m his and his alone. And he’s not wrong.

  My arms wrap around his neck. He’s leaning so far down to kiss me. But suddenly, I’m being lifted into the air. I gasp and moan. Edward lifts me right off the floor, up into his arms. And his lips never pull away from mine.

  My legs wrap around his waist without hesitation. His powerful arms hold me like I’m weightless. His hands slide down to cup my ass, and I like it. He whirls and kicks the door shut with a bang. When I saw the light on in the two-story garage behind his shop, I walked up the drive and knocked. I realize vaguely that this is actually a bigger kitchen space, with an open concept apartment up above in the loft.

  But that’s as far as I get appraising the space. Because all I can concentrate on is the gorgeous, huge man kissing me so hungrily. He carries me across the room. I gasp when my ass hits a table. He sets me down on it and growls into my lips.

  His hands slide over my hips. His fingers trace over the top of my jeans. My plaid shirt pulls free. His fingers touch bare skin, and I moan softly. I want him. I want him like I’ve never wanted anything in my life. I want him any way he wants me. However he wants to take me, I’m his.

  My hands slide over his chest through his t-shirt. God, he’s huge. He’s all pure muscle and brawn. He grunts and pushes between my legs. And I quickly realize his chest isn’t the only thing hard about him. My jaw drops when I feel the size of the bugle that throbs against me.

  It seems Edward Greer is huge all over.

  I whimper and kiss him harder. He growls, and his fingers become bolder. He teases over my bare skin. His fingers move to the front of my jeans. He goes to pluck them open, and I gasp.

  “Please,” I whimper. “I’m… I’m yours.”

  “I know,” he groans. It should come off as cocky or arrogant. But it doesn’t. It’s just the hottest thing any man has ever said to me.