HUSBAND: Guardian #2 Read online

  HUSBAND

  Guardian #2

  Remy Blake

  Copyright © 2019 Remy Blake

  All rights reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This novel is a work of fiction. While reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to people either living or deceased, business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.

  Cover design by PopKitty Design

  Edited by Shauna Stevenson at Ink Machine Editing

  Proofreading by Hawkeyes Proofing

  This book contains mature content

  Dedication

  To all our readers.

  For those of you that loved Brock and Ivy enough to want more.

  Contents

  Dear Reader

  Prologue

  1. Ivy

  2. Brock

  3. Ivy

  4. Brock

  5. Ivy

  6. Brock

  7. Ivy

  8. Brock

  9. Ivy

  10. Brock

  11. Ivy

  12. Brock

  13. Ivy

  14. Brock

  15. Ivy

  Debauchery

  Chapter 1

  Tempt

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Dear Reader

  Husband is a continuation of Brock and Ivy’s story and takes place two years after the end of Guardian.

  We had so much fun revisiting this couple, and we hope you enjoy catching up with them too.

  Prologue

  Brock

  Ivy leans into me, arms tightening around my waist, the warm, soft weight of her presses against my back. The motorcycle rumbles beneath us as we slowly travel along the open stretch of Florida highway. I’m tempted to ride off into the sunset with her and road trip for the rest of our days.

  Life is never better than when it’s the two of us on my bike with the wind in our faces. Everything else fades away and there are no distractions to pull us from the moment. We’re as close to flying as we can be without actually leaving the ground.

  Taking the next exit, I merge with the traffic and pull into one of our favorite breakfast places.

  Ivy climbs off the bike, fingers unfastening her chin strap. Removing her helmet, she tucks it under one arm and shakes out her shiny, dark brown hair. Long locks falling around her like a sexy curtain, she’s every man’s fantasy come to life.

  But she’s mine. All mine.

  My gaze sweeps over her from head to toe before leisurely climbing back up. Pausing on her hips wrapped in tight denim, my fingertips tingle with the urge to grip those lush curves and never let go.

  “Are you coming? Or are you going to sit there staring at me like a dirty old man?” Ivy questions teasingly. Running the pad of her index finger over her pillowy, red lips, she does her best to tempt me further.

  If ever a mouth conjured up dirty thoughts it would be Ivy’s. But then again, every inch of her is made for sin.

  It’s a good thing I’m an unrepentant sinner.

  Swinging my leg over the bike, I remove my helmet. Rising to my full height, I edge closer, towering over her tiny frame. “Do I need to remind you how much you like this dirty old man?” I tap my chest and flash a smile her way. “And you’re lucky that staring is all I’m doing.”

  She arches one brow. “How is that lucky?”

  “Because once I put my hands on you, the end result is always the same--you naked and screaming. And this is not the time or place for either of those things.” Pushing my sunglasses to the top of my head, I wink at her. “Besides, there’s plenty of opportunity for that when we get home.”

  “If you don’t need a nap first, old man,” she sasses, walking toward the restaurant. My palm meets her heart-shaped ass with a loud crack and she giggles.

  “We’ll see who needs a nap first.” I reach in front of her, opening the door. Breezing by me, I catch a hint of her familiar vanilla scent and it fills me with longing. My girl repeatedly tests my resolve without even trying. She’s just that irresistible.

  Choosing the booth farthest back like we always do, we both sink down on opposite sides of the table, placing our helmets on the seats next to us.

  “Do you remember the first time I brought you here?” I ask, hooking my sunglasses onto the neck of my t-shirt.

  She smiles. “Of course. How could I forget? My ass was sore from your bike for two days afterward.”

  “It takes a lot more than a little ole bike ride to make your ass sore now.” I wiggle my eyebrows.

  “Down boy.” Her eyes smolder, contradicting her words.

  The waitress efficiently takes our order and leaves us alone once more.

  “Do you ever wonder what you’d be doing if we hadn’t met?” I question. Sometimes I worry that being with me is holding her back.

  “You mean if my father hadn’t made you my guardian?”

  “Yes.” I hold my breath as I wait for her answer. We didn’t have the most traditional beginning, that’s for sure. Ivy’s father was my best friend growing up. We were partners in crime all the way through college, then life got in the way. I moved down south, and he stayed up north. I was stunned when I learned of his death. And more than a little surprised when he wanted Ivy to spend six months with me as her guardian as a stipulation in his will.

  “Not really. I think everything works out the way it’s meant to. You and I belong together.” Her answer is delivered with conviction, and I’m so relieved she feels this way. Ivy was only eighteen when we met, and I was thirty-five. I tried so hard to resist her, but it was futile. She was imbedded under my skin from the moment I set eyes on her.

  “I think you’re right,” I agree.

  “You really get me. And I keep you young.” She smirks.

  “I’ve got more gray hair now than I did three years ago,” I droll.

  “You can’t blame those on me.”

  “I think I just did.”

  “That’s not fair. Your life would be boring without me.”

  “I never thought I was missing out on anything until you came along and showed me I was.”

  “You’re so sweet.”

  “Yeah, and blow jobs on a regular basis are fantastic too.”

  She snorts and throws a sugar packet at me. “I thought you were being romantic.”

  “I was, but teasing you is so much fun.” If she only knew I’ve been carrying an engagement ring around for months, waiting for the right time to ask her, and overthinking the best way to propose. That might be the real reason for my newly acquired gray strands of hair.

  “I like to tease you too, Brock.”

  “Oh, I know you do. Feel free to once we’re home.” Ivy’s version of teasing is better left for the privacy of our house. “But seriously, I want you to know how happy you make me. My life was meaningless before you filled it with love and laughter. Every day with you is better than the last. Lately, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about the future. I don’t know what life has in store for us, but whatever comes our way, I want to f
ace it with you by my side.”

  “Brock, I was joking about you being old. You’re not even middle-aged yet. I don’t want you going through some premature mid-life crisis because I like to mess with you.”

  “Ivy, what I’m saying isn’t because I’m feeling old. I’m telling you this because I love you more than anything in this world. Where do you see us in a few years?”

  She chews on her bottom lip. “Like we are now, except I’ll be out of school and working full-time. Where do you see us?”

  “Obviously, we’ll be married.” Ivy laughs. She thinks I’m joking. Sliding to the edge of the booth, I rise and step to Ivy’s side of the table. “Come here.” I hold out my hand and she places her palm against mine, sliding to the edge of the vinyl seat before standing.

  Still holding her left hand, I sink down to one knee. Ivy’s eyes go wide and her mouth falls into the shape of an o. “Ivy, I wanted to take you on a bike ride to the bay and propose there, but doing it here seems more symbolic. The first time I brought you to this restaurant was like our first date. I lost a piece of my heart to you that day, and every day since you’ve taken possession of more. And now my heart belongs to you and only you.” Reaching in my front pocket, I pull out the diamond ring I chose for her. “Ivy Colt, will you marry me and make me the happiest old man on the entire planet?”

  She beams through her tears. “Yes. Yes. Yes.” I slip the white gold band over the tip of her finger and slide it down. It’s a perfect fit. The cushion cut stone looks large on her narrow finger and reflects light like a flashing beacon saying I’m taken. Good. Just what I was hoping for.

  Rising to my feet, I draw her into my arms. “I love you so much. I can’t wait to grow old together.”

  She smiles mischievously up at me. “Don’t you mean older?”

  1

  Ivy

  1 year later

  The sound of the doorbell ringing has me walking through the living room on autopilot. With Brock at work, I’m not expecting anybody to show up, especially not in the middle of the day.

  The person on the other side of the door is insistent, adding steady knocks to announce their arrival.

  “I’m coming,” I call out. “Hold your fucking horses.”

  Unlocking the door, I swing it open and stand there motionless, staring at a smug looking Jude standing before me. “What are you doing here?”

  “Damn, I forgot how warm and personable you are.” He pushes past me, inviting himself in, and drops his duffel bag on the kitchen table. “Where’s that angry fiancé of yours?”

  “He’s not angry,” I quip defensively. He raises an eyebrow at me. “Well, not lately.”

  “Are you going to say hello or not?” Jude opens his arms and I can’t help but jump into them. Not having him nearby is the only thing I don’t love about Florida. Squeezing me tight, I reciprocate the embrace, realizing just how much I’ve actually missed him.

  “So, are you actually going to tell me why you’re here?” I prod, now that we’re no longer hugging.

  “Brock called.”

  My head snaps up in shock. “What?”

  Grabbing my hand, Jude brings it up to his face, inspecting my white gold engagement ring.

  “Has this gotten bigger since the last time I’ve seen it?” he asks.

  Snatching my hand out of his reach, I glare at him. “Explain. Now.”

  “Why haven’t you set a date?”

  “He is un-fucking-believable,” I mutter to myself. “I can’t believe that’s why he told you to come.”

  “I was as surprised as you were when I saw a message on my cell with his name on it.”

  “He’s completely overreacting.”

  “I feel like you’re having a conversation with yourself right now. Why don’t we go grab a bite to eat and get shit-faced, and you can tell me all about what’s going on with you and your old man.”

  Frustrated, I huff loudly, pissed off at both Brock and Jude. Giving myself some space, I ignore my guest and walk toward my bedroom to get changed. Switching my yoga pants and tank top for black skinny jeans, a white boxy crop tee, and my black lace-up boots, I add on my smokey eye makeup and finish the look with blood-red lips.

  Jude appears in my bedroom doorway, perusing my outfit. “Well, that’s one way to piss him off.”

  I shrug nonchalantly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, so the sex kitten look is an everyday thing.”

  “I will wear what I want, when I want,” I say, a little too aggressively.

  “Hey.” Jude puts his hands up in surrender. “I’m just confused by all the theatrics. It’s obvious you’re both mad about something. Can’t you just talk about it?”

  We could talk about it, but I’m just not sure what it is we would say to each other. When Brock proposed, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that he was it for me. He is, and I so desperately want to spend the rest of my life with him. But I don’t want to plan a wedding right now—and it’s all he can think about.

  I grab my phone and jacket and slip some cash into the back pocket of my jeans. “Are you going to keep up with your Dr. Phil act, or can we go and get drunk?”

  “I’m sure I mentioned food.”

  “Minor details, Jude,” I say, brushing him off. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  * * *

  Forty-five minutes later, Jude and I are sitting opposite one another in a booth at Meet for Meat. A new restaurant in the area, Brock and I have been meaning to come here together. But just like everything else lately, we can’t seem to get on the same wavelength for anything. And after him asking Jude to come here to check up on me, I’m not in the mood to play nice.

  Sipping on my second mojito and digging into a juicy steak, the tension between Jude and me has well and truly dissipated. Both in different colleges, we catch up on life without the other.

  Growing up, we planned for all our adventures to be together; first traveling and then studying. However, thanks to a sexy beast of a man named Brock Marshall, I was the first to deviate from our plans.

  I ended up seeing Europe without Jude, and he started college before me.

  Lucky for me, Jude doesn’t hold a grudge. He’s enjoying his time at Northeastern University in Boston, studying graphic design. And even though I didn’t start until I turned twenty, I’m loving every second of my communications degree at the University of Tampa.

  We still keep in touch, and when the stars align, we try to see each other in person as often as possible. And while his visit here is unexpected, and simultaneously frustrating, I’m not going to waste a single moment.

  “What is it?” I ask, catching Jude staring at my engagement ring.

  “It suits you.”

  I follow his gaze and stare at the beautiful piece of jewelry adorning my hand. It’s a statement piece and screams ‘taken’ in a way only Brock could pull off.

  “He’s ridiculously over the top,” I say with a shy smile.

  “You fucking love it,” Jude teases.

  “I’m still mad at him, though.”

  “I’m not sure I understand why, but just talk to him.” Jude picks his phone up off the table and then looks back at me. “He’ll be here soon enough, and I can get out of your hair for a couple hours.”

  “What? No.” I grab his phone from his hands. “When the fuck did you two become text buddies?”

  I look at the screen and read their exchange.

  Brock: Your car is here, where the fuck are you two?

  Jude: At Meet for Meat. Out drinking.

  “That doesn’t say he’s coming.” I give Jude back his phone.

  “Please,” Jude scoffs. “Like Brock is going to turn down an opportunity to beat on his chest like a fucking caveman, reminding me that you’re his woman.”

  A chuckle leaves my mouth because it’s true. No matter how many times I’ve told Brock that Jude and I were nothing but friends with benefits, who never had feelings for one a
nother, he still gets his back up about him.

  And knowing he feels that way, but still called for my best friend’s help, tells me this off-center feeling between us might be bigger than I imagined.

  Right on cue, Brock struts toward us, weaving through the restaurant’s tables. His eyes are fixed on me, like a magnetic force that’s impossible to break.

  Sliding in the booth beside me, he cradles my face and smashes his mouth to mine.

  I can hear a humorous “Told you” coming from Jude while Brock kisses me breathless.

  My mind is still stuck on the reasons I’m pissed, while my lips and my body want nothing more than for him to take me home and ravage me.

  Without warning, Brock pulls back, abruptly ending the kiss. Confused, angry, and very much turned on, I stare at him expectantly.

  Like he didn’t just maul my face, he turns his head to face Jude and holds out his hand. “Hey, man, it’s good to see you. What’s good to eat at this place?”

  2

  Brock

  Judging from the lack of surprise on Ivy’s face, I’m guessing she already knew I was coming. But I figured as much. She and Jude are tight, and I knew he’d fill her in on our conversation.

  “The steak tips are phenomenal,” Jude answers, not missing a beat.

  Snaking my hand over, I snag a piece from Ivy’s plate, popping it into my mouth. “Mmm. Delicious.”