Tattered Love by Lola Stark

Author:Lola Stark
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Erotica, Literature & Fiction
ISBN: 1492306509
Published: 2013-09-08T22:00:00+00:00

I held onto Scarlett like she was the air I needed to breathe. For years my family had been telling me Belle’s death was out of my control, but a few whispered words from Scar had taken a little bit of the pressure off my chest. Regardless of the things Scarlett could make me feel, I knew I wasn’t good enough for her. I wanted her. God, I wanted her, but I wasn’t good for her. She was sweet and caring, had a good heart that shone brightly. She wasn’t a needy bitchy woman; she was straight to the point, sexy as all hell and funny. She shouldn’t be tainted by the likes of me and my past, the blood on my hands. She didn’t know the half of it. Even as I held her in my arms after talking about Belle, I knew eventually she would have to know about the rest.

Belle was the tip of the iceberg; the only part of my broken heart that had good memories attached. Scarlett would soon learn about the reason I stepped away from my career; the mistake that I made that left good men dead and families devastated. The fact I was still in Belle’s mother’s life. Any one of these things might be what drove her away from me, and protecting Scarlett was the only thing on my mind, even if it meant protecting her from me.

Somewhere during the last week, she had dropped some of those walls down and I wasn’t about to ruin the progress in one fell swoop. I didn’t want to destroy this by laying all my shit bare. I needed her for as long as I could have her.

Scarlett cleaned up the shop and shut down the lights, locking the doors behind us as we left for her place. I wanted this woman in my life. I just wasn’t sure if it was fair to her. I was torn about how to deal with my feelings for Scar.

A few minutes later, I pulled my truck into Scarlett’s drive, cut the engine and followed her inside. The house wasn’t extravagant, just a simple, inviting place you could relax. The large open plan living areas were filled with sleek furniture that was comfortable looking. Markers, pencils and sketch books lay on the coffee table, framed photos littered the room: Scarlett at different ages and poses, some her and Teeny, some just her and a few with an older man who I assumed was her father. I noticed none of her mother; in fact, she had never spoken of her before, a topic for another day.

The sun had set hours beforehand, and with the earlier mood of the evening, we’d both opted for a movie. Scarlett came into the living room with a bowl of popcorn and two cans of soda as I was putting a disk in.

“What’d you pick?” she asked putting the popcorn and sodas down.

I pulled her by her hands, flopped down on my back,

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