Roar (Military Bad Boy Billionaire Romance) (Soldiers of Fortune Book 4) by Aubrey Irons Page A

"Yeah, just about."

    I feel that glow that's been building inside for months now burn a little hotter seeing him changing like this. Damn does this man look good in a tux; even better with the shirt unbuttoned. He shoots me that cocky grin of his and ducks back into the room.

    "We really ought to get you some furniture in here, you know," I call out.  

    I can hear him laughing in response; "Hey, we've got a bed; what else do we need?"

    I blush and smile, feeling my whole body tingling still from the thorough tour of the bed we just gave each other only twenty minutes before; "Well, I mean, you've got a fucking motorcycle in here; how about a couch or something?"

    "I'll think about it!"

    I roll my eyes; "Well think faster, we're going to be late for our reservation!"

    We're celebrating tonight. And even though I'm almost out of my mind with nervousness, I'm also excited. Because tonight, we're going out, we're getting a nice dinner, and then we're meeting up with Quinn and my brother.

    And we're going to tell them about us.

    Whatever happens after that, we'll deal with it, because it's the only thing left to do. No more sneaking around, no more hiding what this is in the shadows. Tonight, we take that leap and see where we land.

    I glance at the clock above the stove before I turn on my heel and head towards the bathroom. For once, life is perfect, and it's a feeling I'm still trying to wrap my head around.

    I close the bathroom door behind me, and turn, only to wince as I whack my shin off the bottom drawer of the towel rack next to the sink. I frown, grumbling to myself as I lean down to rub my shin and close the drawer.

    But then something catches my eye and stops me cold.

    Something long, sharp, and metal.

    My breath is caught in my throat as I kneel and open the drawer, and it's like breaking open Pandora's box, because everything changes.

    The syringe is only half-tucked under a folded washcloth, just lying there like a damning piece of evidence that barely cares to hide itself. My mind goes utterly numb, my body drifting away from me like in a dream as I carefully, horrifyingly, reach in and pick it up.

    It's full .

    The damn this is actually holding the drug inside of it; primed, loaded, and ready to go. The wind goes out of my lungs as I quickly drop it into the drawer and slam it shut. The room feels cold, my vision starts to blur, and that ache inside is the sound of my heart breaking.

    Once a junkie, always a junkie; always a liar. All of this, all of these feelings that’ve been bubbling and coming up inside of me for the first time - all of this goodness - is built on a lie.

    He's using again, and he lied to me about it.

    I'm out in the hallway, grabbing my coat and wordless slipping my shoes on.

    "Babe?" His voice drifts out from the bedroom, but I don't stop. Because if I stop, I'll break.

    The front door clicks quietly shut behind me, and another chapter ends. I'm furious at myself that I was fool enough to think life could be sweet, like some sort of stupid fucking book or movie. But that shit isn't real, because real life is pain, and lies.

    And I know that now, once and for all.
    *****

    P R E S E N T

    The warmth is the first thing that floods my conscious as I wake, and it takes me a second to realize it's his arms, wrapped tightly around me. I close my eyes for a second, and let myself sink back into him and his heat before they snap back open again.

    I don't panic immediately, and I don't jump out of bed, or run shrieking from the room. No, the regret comes slow, creeping through the feeling of warmth and the feeling of safety in his arms. Those things are a façade anyways; I know that from what happened before. This good feeling; this feeling like nothing else matters in the world but his arms around me, is a fallacy.

    Because I've been there; I've seen through the curtain at what lies behind it. I've seen that life moves forward over broken glass, and no amount of this