Lead Me Home (Fight for Me #3)(122)



God, I hope he doesn’t lodge a complaint. Says that I’m some maid that tried to see him naked or something. There was no “trying”–I couldn’t not see him even if I tried.

You should have tried harder.

And I’m right. I should have. I guess it’s a testament to either how lonely or horny I am. My sex-life, my love-life, it’s all been put on the backburner ever since I moved back to Tehachapi. It wasn’t even anything great in New York, but at least then I had gone on a few dates, gotten laid a few times. Now, I’ve been a sex camel for the last year and I think it’s starting to weigh on me. Apparently strange, naked men are enough for me to lose my fucking mind.

But he wasn’t just some average man. He was well over six feet, with hands bigger than my face and a body that looked sculpted from bronze. He had eyes that reminded me of the sky on a summer day, an accent that spoke of a refined upbringing somewhere far more interesting than here.

He was honestly the most gorgeous, beguiling man I’d ever seen and that’s not even including his penis.

I lean against the wall outside the housekeeping room and try and shake some sense into myself, shooting up a silent prayer. Hopefully that’s the last time I see that guy.



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A Sneak Peek of A Stone in the Sea

A.L. Jackson





Prologue





I drew in a thick, soggy breath, and my boots sank into the damp sand as I met the shoreline. Humidity clung to the dark, endless sky, a dense mist hugging the surface of the ocean that seethed in the night, a toiling mess of beauty and contradiction. I lifted my face to the stars that stretched on forever, an eternal canopy that seemed too low yet impossible to touch.

Sometimes I wished I could reach through it to find all that had been lost.

Lights shone from the huge house on the hill behind me, life stretching its fingers out into the shadows, seeking a way to connect with my spirit, just as the tide raced in as if to embrace me. To wrap me in its arms and pull me under.

It didn’t matter what sea I brushed up against.

He was always there.

Waiting for me.

I raised my arms out to my sides and welcomed him because I never wanted to let him go. Didn’t ever want to forget. Wind pounded at my face, the taste of salt and sea filling my senses, and I remembered exactly why I was here.

What I was willing to protect, no matter the cost.





One





Sebastian




Savannah. Fucking. Georgia.

How the hell did I end up here?

I propped my hand against the molding encasing the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Atlantic Ocean from the house we were staying on Tybee Island. In the daylight, it appeared peaceful and serene, a gentle rush of the tide as it staked its claim up the bank, then slowly rolled back out to sea.

“You okay?” Anthony asked from behind me.

The rest of the guys were still asleep, but I finally gave up on trying to catch even a wink when the sun came up.

I jerked my attention to where Anthony leaned up against the massive island in the center of the opulent kitchen. My brow got all twisted in an incredulous scowl, all of it directed at him. Anthony Di Pietro.

Sunder’s agent, and one of the few people in this world who I actually liked.

Even though I couldn’t look at him right now without feeling pissy and annoyed. This was the guy I trusted with the three things in this world that were important to me—my band, the guys in it, and my baby brother.

“No, I’m not okay. There’s not one fucking thing okay with this, Anthony. Can they even do this?”

His shoulders lifted to his ears, and he puffed out a heavy breath with a slow shake of his head. “They can do whatever they want. They own you, Baz.”

I bit off a bitter laugh. All my life I’d worked to make sure no one owned me. I’d thought it’d be music that would set me free. Then I’d just turned around and sold my soul to the devil.

“You know nothing right now is definitive,” he continued. “It might be another warning, but you and I both know we’re running out of strings to pull. You all made the right choice, coming here.”

Turning around, I raked a hand over my face. “Still can’t get my head around this shit.”

Guilt got all messed up with the aggression I’d dealt with my entire life. The two combined were enough to strangle me. Yet another fucking disaster I’d gotten myself into. Only this time it affected everyone. But what was I supposed to do? Let that pompous asshole get away with what he’d done?

Hell no.

My chin took on a defiant set when I looked at Anthony. “I won’t apologize for what I did.”

He was a good guy, mid-forties, three kids he adored, a wife he adored more. Not many people had that kind of integrity in this industry.

Hell, not many people had that kind of integrity at all.

“I’m not asking you to. You think I don’t know why you did it?” he asked, his voice coated with empathy, and I knew in my gut the guy completely understood. He tipped his head to the side and narrowed his eyes to prove a point. “But do you really want to broadcast that to the rest of the world?”

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