MARX GIRL
Releasing October 2017
1
Kamala
“Don’t look at me like you want me. If you don’t,” I murmur into the silence.
He sits back and readjusts his length. His dark eyes hold mine, but he doesn’t answer.
The water laps around me as I lie on the inflatable mattress, floating around the pool in my white string bikini. The sun is just setting over the horizon and everyone has disappeared to get ready for dinner.
We are alone.
His eyes are locked on mine as he sits in his deck chair around the pool.
He has no right to look at me—to watch me with wanting eyes.
But he does.
And… I still like it.
Ben is my sister’s family’s bodyguard and the head of their security. Things are… difficult between us.
The attraction we have for each other wasn’t supposed to be there, but forbidden lust never felt so good.
At six-foot three inches tall, with his sandy hair, honey brown eyes, and his large, muscular physic—a by-product of his ex-military life—Ben Statham is one hell of a man.
The lingering looks caused a clench deep in my sex when he looked at me.
The smouldering fire when he’d sneak into my room late at night.
Our story began six months ago, when my sister Natasha became involved with her then-boyfriend, Joshua Stanton.
I was always with Tash and Ben was always with Josh. We came together through circumstance, mutual acquaintances and nothing more.
He was the strong man at the back of the crowd watching over everyone.
I was busy watching him.
While the rest of the world was concentrating on my beloved sister and Joshua’s blossoming relationship, I was concentrating on fighting the attraction. The pull I felt towards him only grew day by day.
Laughter turned to conversation. Conversation progressed to lingering looks. Lingering looks turned to goosebumps, and then one day in the kitchen pantry it happened.
He kissed me.
It was the most perfect kiss I’d ever had.
It was sweet, sexy, and it opened up a world of passion that I’d never even known existed.
For three weeks we snuck a kiss in whenever we could, until during one moment of foggy passion, I asked him to come to my room after everyone else had gone to sleep that night.
He did.
We made love… storybook love.
Our perfection carried on for six weeks until tragedy struck our family. As the head of security, Ben blamed himself for what happened and he pulled away from me.
When I needed him the most, he was nowhere to offer support.
And now we’re here, on a family holiday in Kamala, Thailand.
My feelings for him haven’t changed.
He’s still the head of security.
I’m still his boss’ sister-in-law.
But he left me when I needed him the most and I won’t forget that in a hurry.
Our eyes are locked.
“Why do you think I don’t want you?” he whispers in his heavy South African accent.
I frown, unsure how to answer. Eventually, I reply, “Do you want me?”
He sips his beer, taking his time to answer.
I run my fingers through the water beneath me as I try to articulate my own thoughts.
I don’t know what’s going on with us, but I do know I can’t stand feeling the way I do.
I can’t go on without the answers that I need. He’s a strong man who doesn’t show his true feelings, but what the hell happened to us? How do you go from passionate lovers to nothing without even having a conversation about it?
There was no fight, no discussion. Just silence.
Still, he waits, not answering my question. His jaw clenches as his eyes hold mine.
My eyes search his.
What the fuck is going on with him?
Does he want me to beg?
I climb off the inflatable mattress and make my way over to the pool steps. I want to be the one who ends the conversation, not for it to be the other way around.
Who am I kidding?
I’m the only one in this conversation. I slowly walk out of the pool, watching as his hungry eyes drop down my body. I bend and pick up my towel, wrapping it around my waist. With one last lingering look, I walk inside.
His refusal to address our issues infuriates me.
It hurts and makes me wonder if everything we shared was some kind of delusion.
I know he’s strong, I know he’s not a talker, but the nights spent in his arms were filled with tenderness and love.
Where is that man?
I want him back.
I lie in the darkness. It’s one in the morning. The sound of the ocean is drifting through the room and the soft breeze rolls over my body. As usual, I’m torturing myself with thoughts of Ben Statham and his beautiful body. Where is he now? Is he asleep?
The last time we were together I told him I loved him. I never meant to, but I couldn’t help it. I was all soft and emotional from my orgasm high and it just slipped out.
Is that why he ran?
I blow out a deep breath and stare at the ceiling as I go over that last night we had together for the ten thousandth time.
If I knew it was going to be our last night together, I would have done more. I would have said more.
I’d have done anything to make him stay.
The door slowly opens and I roll over. My heart catches in my chest.
“Ben…” I whisper.
He walks in and closes the door behind him. His hands clench at his sides, he seems nervous.
I frown into the darkness as I watch him.
“I wanted to see you,” he whispers.”
I lie still and quiet. He can talk this time.
“I look at you like I want you...” He pauses and takes a breath. “Because I do.”
I frown.
“You have no idea how badly I want you Bridget or how hard it is to stay away.”
“Then don’t. Why are you doing this to us?” I whisper.
He sits on the side of the bed and cups my face in the palm of his hand. His eyes search mine in the moonlit room and his thumb gently dusts over my bottom lip. He hesitates and frowns, clearly pained. “I’m not who you think I am.”
I sit up onto my elbow and frown as I watch him. “Are you married?” I whisper. Oh no. My heart starts to beat furiously. He has a whole other life in South Africa, doesn’t he? I have no idea what’s going on at home for him.
He shakes his head and a soft smile crosses his face. “No, my love. I’m not married.” He leans in to kiss me softly. “But I am unavailable to give you my heart.”
Tears fill my eyes.
“Please know that I love you, Bridget.”
“Ben,” I whisper. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”
He leans in and sweeps his tongue gently through my mouth. I can’t help it… I screw up my face up as the tears fall.
It’s there again… the urge to tell him that I love him.
This man makes me so weak.
I sit up and wrap my arms around his broad shoulders. We kiss slowly and I feel my arousal start to rise.
“I’ve come to say goodbye,” he whispers against my lips.
“What?” My eyes search his. “But you said—”
He cuts me off. “I can’t be who you want me to be, Bridget.”
“Yes, you can, Ben. You are who I want,” I whisper angrily. Damn it, I hate this sneaking around shit. I can’t even raise my voice.
He runs his thumb over my cheekbone as he studies my face. “I have a past, my love—one that I don’t want to ever catch up with you. I won’t bring that into your life.”
I shake my head. “What are you talking about? We all have pasts. We can work it out together, Ben.”
“Goodbye, Bridget,” he whispers sadly. As he goes to stand, I grab his wrist.
“No. Don’t go,” I beg as I lose control. “Don’t leave me. I love you.”
He bends and kisses me gently. “Remember me with love, angel.”
I stare at him through my tears.
“I love you,” he whispers.
With one last lingering kiss, he breaks from me and stands to leave my room without looking back.
I curl into a ball. My heart physically hurts in my chest, and I weep.
Five years later
I smile at my beloved sister and I squeeze her hand in mine across the backseat. “God, it’s so good to see you.”
Tash screws up her face. “It really is.”
“How long has it been since we were in the states?” Abbie frowns as she thinks.
“Five months.” Natasha sighs as she blows out a deep breath. “But remember you are coming over for Thanksgiving.”
“Try and stop us.” Abbie smiles as she reapplies her lip gloss in her compact mirror.
We’re in the back of a hire car on our way to a cocktail bar to meet the boys. Natasha, my sister, has lived in the US with her husband Joshua and their children for five years. Now she’s finally come home to Sydney, Australia for a family wedding tomorrow. I’ve been so excited to have her home; I haven’t been able to sleep all week.
Our best friend Abbie is with us, as well as Natasha’s two security guards in the front. Max is driving and Anton is in the passenger seat. Joshua, Natasha’s husband is an app developer who’s hit the big time. Security is ridiculously high around her and their kids after everything they have been through.
Tash holds her hands up in the air in an exaggerated gesture. “Oh my God, tell me everything. What have I missed?”
I shrug. “Well...” I glance at Abbey. “I don’t know?”
“I can’t wait to meet your new boyfriend, Didge.”
I smile. Everyone calls me Didge. It’s short for Bridget.
“I can’t wait for you to meet him, either. He’s coming to the wedding tomorrow.” I smile proudly.
“Great.” Tash beams.
“Eric is a dick.” Abbey smirks.
My mouth drops open, but I can’t fight my smirk. “He is not.” Bloody Abbey and her unfiltered, honest opinions.
“Is too,” Abbey snaps. “He thinks he’s Starsky or Hutch or some shit.”
Natasha’s eyes flick to me in question.
“He’s not that bad.” I laugh. “And yes, he’s a cop. He’s smoking hot though. Keep your opinions to yourself, Abbs. Please remember you’re dating a gorilla on steroids. You can’t exactly judge me and my choices.”
Natasha and Abbey laugh, and I glance up and see Max smirk in the rear view mirror.
“Yeah, well, that gorilla is an animal in the bedroom. I’m down with gorillas.”
Tasha and I both giggle. Abbey is a slut—a bona fide, self-confessed slut. She loves men and sex and is enjoying every perk of being a super attractive, single woman. Her hair is long and golden, and she has a kicking body that she shows off unashamedly.
Every man she meets ends up eating out of her hand.
Her mantra is no boyfriends, no ties, just fun.
And boy, does she stick to it.
We pull up, climb out of the car, and make our way to the bar where we’re all meeting.
Joshua, Cameron, Scott, and Adrian are all sitting at a table. We make our way over. “Didge,” Cameron calls as he grabs me and pulls me into a headlock. I laugh, scurry free and make my way around the table to kiss them all on the cheek. “Oh, it’s so good to see you all. I’m getting a drink first and then I will be right back.” I smile.
I walk to the bar, completely buzzing. My family are home and it feels so damn good.
We are in for a great weekend. They’ll get to meet Eric tomorrow and I’m so excited.
“Hello, Bridget,” a familiar voice says calmly behind me.
I turn around in a rush.
Dear God. The blood drains from my face.
“Ben,” I whisper. He towers over everyone around him. My body recognises the strength in his, immediately weakening my legs.
My heart starts to hammer in my chest.
“What…?” I shake my head. I have no words. “What are you doing here?”
His hungry eyes drop down my body. “I’m here for you.”
STANTON ADORE
Excerpt.
Available now – full series completed.
“Yes I’ll have a tall latte, double shot,” he smiles.
“I’ll have a skim cap please.” The waitress scribbles on her pad and leaves us alone.
He rests his elbows on the table and links his hands together under his chin, waiting for me to speak first. His eyes have a mischievous glow to them.
“So Josh, tell me about your life?”
He shrugs his shoulders. “What do you want to know?”
“I hear you’re wealthy.”
He smiles, “In some things.”
I tilt my head on the side, “What do you mean?”
“Well, I have money. It depends on your definition of wealthy.”
Oh, I suppose. What’s your definition?” I ask, surprised.
He shrugs again. “Happily married, healthy kids.”
The waitress returns with our order.
Smiling, I rest my chin on one hand while I find myself swooning at his feet. “Are you dating?” I ask.
He scrunches up his nose, “Hell no.” Our drinks arrive and the waitress’s eyes linger a little long on Mr Orgasmic here. I narrow my eyes at her. Ok, enough, buzz off.
“You,” I frown.
“Huh?”
“Are you dating?” I ask.
“No, nothing like that. Mum told me you had a boyfriend.”
I nod a little embarrassed. “Um, ex-boyfriend,” I murmur.
“What happened? Why did you break up?”
I smile. He smiles, “I see you’re still a shit liar.”
“I hoped you hadn’t heard about that,” I wince.
“What? Heard that some poor bastard asked you to marry him and you knocked him back and dumped his sorry ass?”
I put my hand over my face in embarrassment. “It sounds cold when you put it like that.” I peek out from behind my hands to see him smirking at me.
“What happened?” He asks.
“We were never going to work out. I’ve never been so shocked in my life as the day he proposed. It was awful.” His thumb is under his chin and he is wiping the side of his pointer across his lips as he listens, his gaze locked on mine.
“Why wouldn’t you have worked out?”
“We weren’t …compatible.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Compatible,” he repeats.
Why did I say that?
“You mean sexually?” His eyes darken with an emotion I’m familiar with. Arousal.
“Among other things,” I quickly add. I suddenly feel very uncomfortable. “Why aren’t you married?” I blurt out.
He smiles a slow sexy smile. “I haven’t found anyone who fits the job description.”
“What’s the job description?” I breathe.
His eyes bore into mine with an intensity that heats my blood. “Someone who fucks like a slut, with the morals of a nun.”
I choke on my coffee. Of all the things I thought he would say, that was definitely not it. I feel a frisson of uneasiness creeping up on me.
“You can’t be serious?” I gasp.
“Absolutely,” He nods as he takes a sip of his latte, his eyes not leaving mine.
“You want to marry a slut?”
He nods again. “It depends what your definition of a slut is. What do you think a slut is?” he asks.
“Someone who will sleep with anyone,” I reply.
He nods and takes another sip of his latte. “You see I think a slut is a woman who loves to fuck.”
I swallow the large lump in my throat. His voice has dropped to a low husky sound, one that is screaming to my subconscious. He continues, “I couldn’t be with a mousy woman who doesn’t love to fuck as much as I do. I have an insatiable appetite for sex,” He licks his lips. “High maintenance so to speak.” His eyes burn into me once again, silently daring me to say something. His eyes drop to my lips and want pools in my stomach. “The woman I marry will have to endure hours and hours of being tied to our bed, legs spread wide while I pleasure her with my tongue and fuck her with my hands. Then put up with me continually driving into her tight cunt with my cock so hard that she won’t know where I end and she begins. Constantly. She would have to love taking me orally, vaginally and anally…. repeatedly.” He gazes at me again and steeples his hands under his chin.
For the love of god, my mouth has gone dry.
“Can I take your order, love?” I jump, oh shit did she just hear that?
“Um, bacon and eggs please, and an orange juice.” I’m embarrassed and put my head down to hide my blush.
“I’ll have the same.” He smirks a sexy smile at me.
Bloody hell.
Ok, my brain has fried. I can’t even speak as I visualize exactly what he has explained to me. Orally, vaginally and anally……shit. That sounds exactly what I want to do today. Is he trying to drive me out of my frigging head? He’s not playing fair.
“So, precious.” My eyes snap up at the nickname he used to call me. “Do you know anyone that you could put up for an interview?”
I scowl at him. He’s playing with me, the bastard. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
“Yes, I do actually, “I reply. Actually no I don’t. Only me. I would rather cut of my left arm than put someone else up for that position. I scan my empty head for a comeback. Nope nothing, a 2am regret coming up.
“Are you purposely trying to turn me on?” I whisper.
“Is that what I’m doing?” His gaze bores into me, burning holes with its heat.
“Yes,” I whisper. “You know you are.”
He inhales a deep breath through his nose as he leans back in his chair and rearranges his cock unashamedly in his pants. My eyes drop down to between his legs and I swallow a golf ball in my throat. Ok, if he gets away from me today without giving me what I need, I’m going to need sectioning tonight.
“I’m always hard when I talk about what I need in a wife.”
“You have this conversation often?” I’m offended.
“No, first time,” He smiles.
I narrow my eyes. “Bastard,” I whisper. “Stop playing with me.”