Forever Branded (Billionaire Love Series #1) (7 page)

I laughed despite my tears. “Are you quoting what I said about
Jane Eyre
?”

She smiled warmly. “Yes, I am. You know it’s true, though.”

I shrugged casually, not wanting to convey any emotion at all, even as my insides churned with the seeds of new hope. “Maybe.”

She grabbed my upper arms with both her hands, her green eyes blazing with strength. “Listen, you’ve carried this burden far too long. It’s time to lay it down and let yourself believe in love again.”

“That might be too hard for me, Grace. I don’t know if I could ever be that open again.”

“You’re not a girl, anymore. You’re a woman. You’re a kick-ass single mom who runs a successful business and one of the best human beings I have ever known. Hold on to the desires of your heart. I will hold faith for you that Beau will come back to you and I know Emma will do the same. Just let faith take hold of you, Marla. Don’t get in the way of something great happening with Beau.”

Her words pierced me like grey skies suddenly departing in the face of fierce rays of sunshine. “Okay, you’re right. I do want to believe in love again. I just don’t want to get hurt.”

She gave me a comforting smile. “That’s just part of living, sugar. There are no guarantees Beau won’t hurt you again. In fact, this is probably going to get a lot messier and more difficult before it will get better. Just stay present and live every moment as you experience it. This is your time, Marla. Grab it and hold on for whatever wild ride is coming your way.”

She sounded so optimistic; I couldn’t help but believe her.

“Thanks, Grace,” I whispered, allowing her encouragement to breathe new life into me.

“Now, give me a hug!” she said, wrapping her arms around my shoulders.

We embraced and she squeezed me tight.

God, I was glad to have a friend like her.

CHAPTER FIVE

Beau:

Steam.

Heat.

Wetness.

My favorite kind of dream.

This one was especially vivid. I approached a pool, steam rising from the water as I noticed a young woman in the water alone. Swimming toward me, she came to the edge of the oval pool. Her soft glance was familiar as our eyes met, my cock instantly hardened as I recognized her.

Marla.

She climbed out of the pool slowly, Phoebe Cates style with her creamy white tits popping out of the top of her red bikini.
Hot.
She would taste sweet as I buried my head in her boobs and teased her aching nipples with my mouth.

She held my gaze with her big doe eyes as she made her way up the steps looking like an exotic mermaid. Under her spell, I watched as she stroked her dark hair back, and approached me in all of her glory. Water dripped down her sweet curves as her rounded hips and thighs commanded my undivided attention.

Lord, have mercy.

I wanted to fuck her right there.

“You want it, baby?” She pressed her firm tits against me, my cock straining against her stomach as her silky smooth skin rubbed along mine.

“Oh, yeah, I want it,” I whispered against her ear.

I ran my hand down her side as beads of water dribbled down her stomach. I wanted to lick every drop from her body, while pulling her string bikini down with my teeth and burying my mouth deep in her snatch.

Nothin’ like going down on a sexy woman.

Her hand ran down my stomach, my cock aching for her touch, as her fingers moved below the waistband of my trunks.

“Oh yeah, you want it,” she breathed into my ear as I concentrated on the way her hand firmly moved along my shaft.

God, I wanted to feel her beneath me. I was going to make her come undone on my dick as I rode her hard. I wrapped my arms around her waist as her eyes pleaded with me to fuck her good. I leaned in, holding her tight.

It was too good to last.

Just as my lips handed on hers, I woke up, my cock hard as steel, begging for relief. Hawking spit into my hand, I reached down and wrapped my hand around my swollen dick, jacking fast. I could hardly stand the thought of Marla getting out of the water.

Glistening. Wet. Soft curves. Tight pussy.

I stroked hard, too impatient and turned on to do it right.

She was so hot, so hot for me...I couldn’t...
Oh, Jesus! Oh, fuck!

Jizz went flying out of my cock, landing all over my heaving stomach.

Damn, I hadn’t come that hard in a long time. I inhaled and exhaled rapidly, wondering if I was sixteen again, too horned up to control myself.

That dream felt so real.

I couldn’t deny my attraction to Marla.

She was in my blood.

But that didn’t mean I was about to give in and crawl back to her.

No, I was going to make her come to me on my terms.

I got up and cleaned myself off, too worked up to sleep.

I wandered around my penthouse, thinking about how Marla had messed me up for so many years. She definitely deserved payback for all the devastation she’d caused me.

After she had broken up with me, hockey was the only thing I cared about.

I was damn good at it.

I always played like a man unleashed, one with nothing to lose. I loved the punishing rhythms of the game, giving and taking. There was nothing like scoring a game winning goal or giving a good hit. No matter what else was going on in my life, everything made sense when I stepped out onto the ice.

I gave hockey everything I had while I was in the league. I worked my ass off to get a big, fat, juicy contract and I had six solid years where I made serious seven figures.

That was the good life.

The high life.

I was finally free from relying on my old man to fund my lifestyle. He could no longer exert any influence over the way I lived.

I had complete freedom to fuck up my life any way I wanted.

And I did.

I partied hard when I wasn’t playing a game or working out. I lost myself in whatever pussy I could find, trying to block out Marla’s imprint on my battered soul.

I drank like a fish, alcohol fueling my numbness. I pushed my limits until one fateful night, after drinking too much, I got into my car and everything was blown to pieces.

After spending a month in the hospital and several more months rehabbing my leg, by sheer will, I finally had full mobility. My biggest hope was to return to hockey. I trained and prepared, but no team wanted to take a chance on my leg holding up for the duration of a brutal season.

That sucked. Big time.

It was another bitter pill I had to swallow and I let it spread through me, like a virus. Its venom, the coating I needed for the next phase of my life, which involved me making a fortune in the real estate game.

I got lucky.

Real estate fit me like a glove.

I had a knack for sniffing out a bargain, snatching it up, and selling it at the right time to make a killing. At first, I just flipped a few houses and sold them for a decent profit. Then I took several real estate development courses, hooked up with a couple of smart investors, learned the ropes of real estate and found myself a new career.

I took the money I made from my first few modest deals and invested it into bigger properties, which allowed me to buy up more equity. I bought anything I saw the potential to make a serious profit in, and my business grew as I acquired more real estate. I worked my ass off, overseeing every deal as I juggled multiple projects at the same time.

It was hard as hell, but I loved it.

Shepard Development was the one place I gave a sincere effort as I steered my company toward major success. After accruing enough assets, I was able to buy skyscrapers, industrial parks, and shopping centers. My profits grew from thousands of dollars to millions, which got me playin’ in the big leagues with the big boys.

Before I knew it, I was a billionaire by the time I was thirty-five.

That kind of wealth was only something I could’ve dreamed of. Now, the sky was the limit.

I splurged on several houses, one in Toronto, another in the Bahamas, and one in London as well as a penthouse apartment in Baltimore, a garage full of Porsches, Bugattis, Lamborghinis, Aston Martins, and a souped up 1969 Mustang.

I had more than enough money to do anything I wanted, like buy a professional hockey team in my hometown of Baltimore, Maryland. I snatched it up for a cool five hundred million dollars when the team came up for sale.

A bargain in my book.

There was nothing sweeter than coming home on my own terms.

Successful.

Wealthy.

Powerful.

Owning the Baltimore Gators was another dream come true. They were my team growing up and now I had a chance to guide it to a new era of championships.

I brought the best of both worlds to my new venture. I knew business and I knew hockey. So I restructured the organization and hired a world-class management team who knew how to get things done. I was happy as long as we had the best players, a winning season, and room under the salary cap.

So far, the Baltimore Gators were having a great season with a winning record. But I had my finger on the team’s pulse, determined to keep the Gators strong and healthy as I turned my attention to other projects.

The one thing I didn’t count on was all these flashbacks from high school popping up. I’d been able to keep most of memories at bay while I lived in Canada, but it was much harder now that I was breathing the same air as Marla.

*****

I admit it.

It started out as a game to win Marla over.

That was my entire agenda.

Make her like me, and then walk away.

Simple and easy.

If I had known what was going to happen, I would have kept it a game and never let my heart get involved.

But that’s a lesson I learned the hard way.

At the time, I had almost every girl in school eating out of my hand with a smile and a wink. Plus, I was a dominant athlete on my way to the pros. I didn’t need to work hard to get a girl.

Until I met Marla.

She wasn’t flirty. She didn’t play games. She just gave it to me straight as she yelled at me in the library and lit a fire under my lazy ass. The next day, I went to her locker thinking she would be easily swayed by a charming apology and a flirtatious smile.

I was dead wrong.

She politely rejected my offer to let her tutor me again, telling me how mean I had been to her.

WTF?

I couldn’t believe she’d turned me down. She’d been the first girl to say no to me as she left me standing by her locker, wondering what’d just happened.

“Lovely?” I asked myself as she walked away. “Did she just call me lovely?”

I wasn’t lovely.

I was a tough, badass hockey player who had no trouble charming the ladies.

Fuck that.

No one walked away from Beau Shepard.

She was about to get my full court press.

Immediately.

I got lucky in English class that day. Ms. Sprite paired us up for some discussion and I got another chance to talk to her. She tried to stay cold, but couldn’t do it while she filled me in about
Jane Eyre
.

Marla had passion for just about everything.

It was refreshing, watching her explain the story, her brown eyes flashing with gobs of intelligence as she met me jab for jab when I gave her a hard time about the book.

Things were going so well, I couldn’t resist sliding in that story about my dad. I was hoping she was a sucker for sob stories. Girls loved that kind of shit and Marla was no different.

Everything I’d said about my dad was true.

He was a hard ass and rode me all the time about hockey. He didn’t really care if I was doing that well in school; he just wanted me to make it to the pros.

But I hadn’t been prepared for her reaction.

Her doe eyes had filled with compassion and understanding, unnerving me as I found myself lost in her gaze.

She was feisty one minute, sweet the next.

Totally fascinating.

It made me want to know more about her.

But I had to be careful.

Her bullshit meter was pretty low. My usual bag of tricks wasn’t going to work with her. I was gonna have to think outside the box.

So, I did a bit of reconnaissance, gathering information on her as any good predator studies its prey. I investigated who she ate lunch with and who her friends were. I studied her in English class as she raised her hand often, eagerly participating in everything I found boring.

It wasn’t long before I could pick her out of any room she walked into.