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Back This Woman Save as PDF
Chapters (44)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise For Jodi Ellen Malpas
  3. Dedication
  4. Prologue
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. About Jodi Ellen Malpas
  44. Also by Jodi Ellen Malpas

And I know why. It was insane. Our kiss. Our skin touching. The look in her eyes and undoubtedly mine. This isn’t just attraction. There’s more. So much more. It’s something inexplicable. Something fucking huge.

A connection that I can’t dismiss.

The door of my office swings open, and Sarah’s mouth is locked and loaded, ready to ask why the fuck I’m beating the door. Then she catches my expression. I can only imagine how I must look. Despaired. Desperate. Hopeless.

She withdraws, her mouth snapping shut, and I breathe in, turning and walking away. She doesn’t ask me where I’m going this time. Doesn’t throw any sarcasm or snide remarks at me.

She lets me go.

Good. Because I’ve thought of something I really have to do.

That explanation I’d accepted I would never get from Ava?

I want it.

Now.

7

It takes everything in me not to storm her office and start throwing around my demands. I haven’t got much willpower at the moment, as most of it is being used to resist my craving for a drink. Seven days without a drop. Fucking incredible.

I settle on paying her a visit at home.

“How the fuck does she drive this thing?” I mutter to myself, yanking her Mini into reverse and backing into a space outside a convenience store not far from Ava’s place. I virtually crawl out of her car. I must look ridiculous.

The lady behind the counter beams at me as I approach, her eyes sparkling with delight. I have no energy to dazzle her further with a smile. “I need a disposable phone, please.” I pull out my wallet, my eyes lifting to the shelf behind the counter, automatically landing on the vodka.

“No problem,” she sings. “Do you need a SIM as well?”

My eyes don’t move from the vodka. “Yes.”

“That’ll be thirty pounds, please, sir.”

Give me a liter of vodka too.

“Thanks.” I slap a few notes on the counter, snatch the phone and SIM, and get out of the store, feeling my brow dampen. I throw them on the passenger seat, wedging my body behind the wheel again, and pull off quickly, getting far, far away from the temptation. Heading for another lure. A more powerful lure.