Beautiful Broken Promises by Kimberly Lauren
- PROLOGUE -
We make promises to the people we love because we want them to feel our loyalty, or maybe it’s a way to hold ourselves responsible. We want them to know how much they mean to us and even if it seems impossible, we make these sometimes preposterous vows because maybe... just maybe... we actually believe it’s possible to keep them.
Regardless of my promise that I would always love you no matter what or my absolute need to make it known I would always protect you, I made those promises with no intention of breaking them. I could never fathom a time in my life that I wouldn’t love you. The moment I first laid eyes on you, my soul knew you and smiled as if he had been waiting for you all this time.
And God, had I been waiting. You were the most beautiful person I had ever laid eyes on. In that moment, I knew without a shadow of a doubt I would lay my life down for yours and you would always come first. I couldn’t see any other possibility. How could life go on if there were no you?
You made me the luckiest man in the world… that is, until you were ripped from my hands so brutally. Those promises I had sworn by were taken from me, and I was never even able to tell you I’m sorry. I never meant for it to be this way. I never wanted to break my promises. They forced me to.
And sadly, life does go on without you. It’s as if I’m drowning and every time I’m about to finally fade into the blackness, I’m pulled back up to the shore so I can be reminded of all the happy smiling faces around me, only to be submerged into oblivion again. Sometimes I think it would be easier to just let myself go. Let the depression win out. But then I think of you and your beautiful face. How I hope so damn much that you are out there, just waiting for me to find you. Waiting for me to right those promises again.
So, I don’t give up and I won’t let them win. I will find you and I will make sure that you know you’re my everything…
- ONE -
LANE -
Our heavy breaths were loud in the quiet of the sleeping house. Her fingers continued to tug and pull at my shirt until she had it fully removed from my waistband. As soon as it was allowed, she frantically slipped buttons from their holes and, in her frenzy, shoved the shirt from my shoulders, letting it flutter leisurely to the stairs. All I could feel were wild, desperate hands and our hot mouths colliding.
My liquor-filled brain didn’t function quite as fast as hers did, but I managed to pin her to the wall with one of my legs on a higher stair, stopping her from moving any closer to the top. From what I could tell through my double vision, she was pretty. Long, blonde hair. Nice rack. Tight skirt that was about to be on the floor. Shit, that worked for me.
I returned to the arduous task of unbuttoning her shirt. My fumbling fingers weren’t cooperating though so her blouse ended up being a ripped mess, causing buttons to fly every which way. My mouth had instant access to her bare chest. No bra. But let’s be honest, that was one of the reasons she was here right now. Everyone in that bar knew she hadn’t been wearing much under her barely-there clothes.
“Ethan...” she gasped, as my lips touched her breasts. I suppressed the chuckle as best as I could, because I had forgotten she thought that was my name. Ethan and I were being jackasses and decided to trade for the hell of it. Shit, maybe some girl was calling out my name at Ethan’s place tonight.
When my fingers slid up the inside of her thigh, she moaned forcefully. My hand instantly clamped down over her lips to stop the loud noise erupting from between them.
“Shh...we need to get to my room before you wake everyone up.”
“Who else is here?” she asked, panting breathlessly. I ignored her question and pulled her up the rest of the stairs. Her hands continued to paw and bat at me as we staggered down the hall. She walked backward, clinging to my burning skin until I finally found the right door.
She strutted around topless inside the room while checking out her surroundings and running her fingertips across the edge of the bedspread.
“Huh... it’s kind of small. I thought with a house this size...”
“It’s a guest room,” I replied. I stalked toward her and attempted to remove my shoes and unbutton my pants in the same beat.
“Do you always take girls to your guest room? Show me your master, gorgeous,” she tried to whisper seductively.
Towering over her, I placed my hands on her hips and moved her back onto the bed. My fingers grazed across her flat stomach and I found the clasp that held her scrap of a skirt together. The fabric released, drifted down her fake-tanned legs, and she kicked it aside.