Next on Livia’s to-do list was Blake. She needed to find him. They needed to face what he feared. Together.
Debra AnastasiaShe’d made the best decision of her life when she convinced the easy-going David that, yes, he really did want to take her on a date. One year later they were inseparable.
He would make a patient, persistent father. He clearly adored Eve, but he also refused to put up with any of her drama. They solved their problems in quiet, respectful voices. Even Eve’s father had seemed convinced that Eve and David would be together until they were old and forgetful.
Eve let go of a rope she’d clung to for too long. And she fell. She fell right into him. Wrong or right, she gave up judging. Her lips found his, and he kissed her gently, not demanding any more than she was willing to offer.
Eve added her tongue, exploring his taste. She grabbed the back of his neck with one hand and traced his gunshot wounds with her other. He let her lead.
My call. Kill him or love him. He’ll allow either.
Beckett smiled into her kiss when she started to shudder and fidget. She’d chosen passion.
“Are you sure?” He made her look at him.
She could only nod. Together they took off her leather armor. Then just before she could straddle him, Beckett stopped her.
“Shit! Hold on. Let me get rid of this. My luck I’ll blow my balls off right fucking now.” Beckett put the gun on the floor and kicked it away.
Eve put her knees on either side of his hips.
She held herself just out of his reach and broke her last mental barriers. Then she slammed down on top of him with such force, she was sure Beckett was glad she had such impeccable aim.
Anything for my two girls.” David had loved saying “two girls.
Debra AnastasiaBy the time he climaxed, Eve was arched and her hair touched the floor. Her face was as far away from his as it could get while still having him inside her.
They panted like this for a moment, until he realized she was too ashamed to sit back up and look at him. He’d just been at the center of her loss. He’d poisoned the only place she’d ever held her baby. Beckett looked at her long, white form. He ran his hand over a fine white scar he found just under her belly button—the scar somehow he had put on her body.
Blake held his hand out, palm up, and Livia slid hers into it. Her heart snuggled into its happiness. The sight of his fingers made her forget what she was about to say.
Debra AnastasiaShe overheard one of them shout, “This is Dr. Hartt’s daughter!”
Eve had no idea why those words came back to her at night. Over and over her brain repeated, “This is Dr. Hartt’s daughter!”
Not “Eve, we aren’t showing a heartbeat on the baby.”
Not “David Statford was pronounced dead at the scene.”
Not “We can’t stop the bleeding. She’s hemorrhaging.”
Not “If the infection continues, we’re not going to have any choice. Eve, we’re recommending a hysterectomy.”
Maybe it was because she’d still had hope when she heard those words. Maybe because she’d thought she’d be protected since her father was a surgeon at the hospital where the ambulance took her.
We’re here because I think all that time ago you fell off the horse. I think you had the breath knocked out of you, but no one made you get back on the horse. No one was there to tell you to keep trying, that it’s not okay to be afraid of the sun. But it’s not okay. I’m here to tell you to try again.”
Livia paused to assess the impact of her words, but the mask hid Blake’s expression. “Running won’t stop me,” she continued. “I’ll keep finding you. I’ll keep dragging you back here—right to this spot—until you can stand in the sun. With me.
With every step she felt herself harden. She was a walking statue by the time she hit the police station’s exit.
She had a purpose again. Hate.
Eve cuddled hate to her heart like a baby—like the only baby she’d ever have. Eve despised reliving the accident, but she had to do it to get harder. She needed to be angrier.
LIVIA DIDN’T IMMEDIATELY REMEMBER the details of the night before when she woke in her bed. Her blanket had been arranged around her. As she sat up, she noticed little paper-napkin roses tucked among her belongings. Blake.
He’d even given Teddy a spiffy bow tie. He must have taken a whole stack of napkins from The Launch Pad, and the sunlight trickling in her window explained his absence. His fancy clothes were folded neatly on the end of her bed. The prince was the one to run out of time in this Cinderella story.
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