Love Me Like That Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Extras

  Playlist

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  42

  43

  44

  45

  46

  47

  48

  49

  50

  51

  Epilogue

  More by Marie James

  Kudos

  Bio

  Copyright

  Love Me Like That

  Copyright © 2016 Marie James

  Editing by Mr. Marie James & Hale’s Harem Betas ;)

  Cover design by Kari Ayasha of Cover to Cover Designs

  EBooks are not transferrable. All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  To my grandmother, the most amazing woman I’ll ever know.

  TAP FOR ACCESS

  Love Me Like That Playlist: Love Me Like That

  Cover Design: Kari Ayasha of Cover to Cover Design

  Cover Model: Justin James Cadwell

  Photographer: Shauna Kruse

  Wait for You: Elliot Yamin

  I Can’t Love You Back: Easton Corbin

  Over You: Daughtry

  The Best Of Me: Brantley Gilbert

  Dear Agony: Breaking Benjamin

  Don’t Close Your Eyes: Keith Whitley

  How Far: Martina McBride

  Best Days Of Your Life: Kellie Pickler

  Almost Doesn’t Count: Mark Wills

  What We Ain’t Got: Jake Owen

  Another Try: Josh Turner

  Sorry: Justin Bieber

  Use Somebody: Kings of Leon

  Hello: Adele

  She’s more: Andy Griggs

  She Don’t Love You: Eric Paslay

  Drunk on Your Love: Brett Eldredge

  Break Down Here: Julie Roberts

  Love You Like That: Canaan Smith

  Like I’m Gonna Lose You: Meghan Trainor

  Withdrawals: Tyler Farr

  I’m Coming Over: Chris Young

  Lonely Tonight: Blake Shelton featuring Ashley Monroe

  What Do You Want: Jerrod Neimann

  Broken: Seether

  Still Holding On To You: SHeDAISY

  Goodbye Time: Blake Shelton

  Make You Miss Me: Sam Hunt

  Hurt: Chistina Aguilera

  “You good?” Trent asks with a knowing smirk as he backs away from me in the shower.

  I grin at him and nod my head. “One of these days I’m going to demand more than just a shower quickie in the morning.”

  He chuckles and leans in, kissing my lips softly and running a loving finger down my cheek. “I know I’ve been super busy, Kitten.” He kisses my neck, nipping at the skin, even under the stream of hot water the action shoots chills up my spine. “Until we get fully staffed, I need to be at the bar. Believe me; I’d rather be here in the morning with you than there taking beer deliveries.”

  His fingers skate delicately over my nipple, and I groan when he pulls his hand away and stands to his full height. Even with as long as we’ve been together a delicate touch still makes me want to beg for the next caress.

  He steps out of the shower and grabs a towel from the rack. “What time should I expect you?” He asks as he scrubs the drops of water from his almost scalp length, ice-blond hair.

  I work at the bar with him most evenings. I’ve been an employee of his for the last three months. He, along with my best friend Keira, convinced me my ‘day job’ as they called it, was interfering with their time with me. I’d already been working part time there on the weekends so that I could see them more.

  I shrug. “My shift starts at four, but I’ll probably be in a little early,” I tell him as I stand up from the tiled bench on shaky, post-orgasmic legs.

  I swipe the steam from the inside of the shower stall and watch him, completely in love with every inch of his body as he towel dries his lanky frame. He’s not a cut, ripped hunk; he’s more like a gangly beanpole with long, lean muscles. He’s incredibly tall, but his build isn’t imposing, one of the things that played a huge part in our relationship in the beginning. He eats like a horse and never works out, so I don’t know how he stays so thin. I joke with him all the time that the fast food he consumes at an alarming rate is going to catch up with him, but he’s thirty-two now and he’s just as skinny as he was when we started dating six years ago.

  I turn the water off and step out of the shower, reaching for a thick, fluffy towel. I hold it to my nose and inhale the clean smell of our laundry detergent.

  “Not washing your hair today?” He asks with a joking look of disgust on his face.

  I pull the towel from my face and narrow my eyes sarcastically. “I’m hitting the gym first. I’ll wash it when I’m done.” I inform him.

  Unlike him, I have to work out…often. I run at least five times a week but no matter the number of miles, the speed, or how often I hit the track my ass never shrinks. At least my chest is proportional. I’m fit and healthy. It’s the mantra I force myself to repeat when any of my body issue conceptions begin to rear their ugly heads.

  “Tomorrow is Sunday, Kitten. I promise you more than a quick fuck in the shower.” He kisses the top of my head, leaving the bathroom so he can get dressed and head to work.

  “I’m holding you to that!” I shout after him, the smile never leaving my face.

  By the time I make it out of the bedroom fully dressed, Trent is gone. He’s been working from around ten in the morning until the bar shuts down at two in the morning, and then he oversees the cleanup. He’s only averaging about five to six hours of sleep each night; then it’s the same thing the next day.

  I know it’s not healthy for him to live this way. More than once I’ve tried to talk with him about enlisting a staffing company to find qualified people to help manage the bar. He’s waved me off more than once, saying that this bar is our future, and he’s not comfortable having another company do something he’s capable of doing himself.

  He opens Holder’s later on Sunday and Monday, but every day he’s there to unlock the door at opening and relock the door at closing. At least, he has for the last six months.

  Staffing has been rough for the better part of a year. Bar staff is excellent but finding, and keeping, proper management has been a huge burden
. I think he’s given up, having grown tired of people getting trained then leaving to work at the bars in the bigger cities, now with a better resume.

  He’s working himself into an early grave, but he won’t listen to reason. He’s asked more than once if I’d start progressing to a management position, but that defeats the purpose of me quitting my office job to spend more time with him, as I’d be working most of my shifts opposite of his. Both he and Keira have pushed the idea more than once; every time I’ve told them to leave it alone. I have no desire to run the bar.

  He purchased the bar from the original owner when Tom Holder decided it was time for retirement. He was running this bar for Tom when we met but bought it about a year or so after we started dating.

  Making my way into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the fridge I notice Trent’s coffee mug sitting on the counter. He accidentally leaves his coffee more than once a week. I pour it out and add it to my list of things to take him when I get done with my workout.

  We aren’t rich by any means, but Trent’s house is paid for; it was left to him after his mother passed away ten years ago. The bar does very well and because of that we live extremely comfortable. I wouldn’t consider myself a kept woman, but the truth is, other than paying for groceries I have no other financial obligations; my cell phone is even covered on his account. The only reason I buy the groceries is because Trent is perfectly okay with eating out for every meal and I’d have to live at the gym if I ate like him.

  He assures me this is the way it’s supposed to be. A man takes care of every one of his woman’s needs. So because of that, I just stick most of my money into savings. I did; however, recently use a chunk of it to buy my car.

  My biggest pride and joy is my bright red Mini Cooper Countryman. We don’t have kids and have absolutely no time for an animal, so my car is my baby, and I treat it as such. It’s the first car that I’ve ever bought outright with my own money, and I take extreme pride in it.

  I jump behind the wheel and wait for my phone to connect with the Bluetooth in the car. On my way to the gym, I call Keira to see if she wants to grab lunch before our shifts start later this afternoon. It’s Saturday which means all hands on deck since it’s our busiest night of the week. She doesn’t answer me, which is not surprising. More than likely she’s still passed out with whatever guy she deemed Mr. Right Now last night before leaving the bar. She’s always used her waitressing job at the bar as her personal dating service. She’s been lucky so far that it hasn’t caused problems, but she seems pretty up front about her intentions with the guys she hooks up with.

  I tilt my head at the emptiness of the parking lot at the gym as I pull up. Saturday morning is usually pretty busy, but this place is deserted, eerie even. Walking up the steps, I see the bright green sign on the door informing me that the gym is closed due to a water pipe break inside. It goes on to say that they hope to be open by Monday at the latest.

  I sigh and turn back around. It’s winter in Montana, so there’s no way I’m running outside. Frostbite and toe amputations are not on my list of things to do this week. I hate when my plans are derailed, and there’s nothing worse than not getting my workout in. More times than not it leads to poor eating decisions the rest of the day.

  I get back in the car and head to the Starbuck’s drive thru to grab a coffee for Trent and myself, suddenly regretting not washing my hair this morning since I won’t be working out. I’ll wash it after having a cup of coffee with my love; I still have plenty of time before my shift starts.

  The emptiness of the parking lot except for Trent’s truck is not surprising. The bar doesn’t open until two in the afternoon, so besides a delivery truck I wouldn’t expect any different.

  I make my way to the front door of the bar, knowing it will be open for anyone who may be delivering. I also know chances are good Trent will be in the back office going over the week’s paperwork. He’s very organized, and I’m certain this quirk of his contributes to how well his business has been doing, aside from the staffing issues.

  I’m amazed at how different the bar is during the daytime. It’s quiet and weird without music blaring and the sound of glasses clinking; the absence of customers talking and the sound of the balls hitting on the pool tables.

  I left early last night with a horrendous headache, and I can tell from the not quite pristine condition of the tables and floors that I was missed. I feel mild satisfaction that things didn’t get done last night properly until I remember Trent telling me he had to stay even later last night to make sure everything was taken care of in my absence.

  I know it wasn’t intentional, but he hurt my feelings when he came home and complained about having too much on his plate to have staff leaving early when he was already limited on employees. I let it roll off my back because I know he has so much going on, but it didn’t lessen the sting any. It’s not often that we fight or grow frustrated with each other, so it tends to hurt a little more when we do.

  I roll my shoulders in an attempt to let the anger wash over me and disappear as I make my way to the back of the bar where the office is. Still holding both cups of coffee I use my hip to push open the door that separates the customer area from the back storage area where we keep all the supplies.

  I stop in my tracks when I hear a slap and a giggle coming from the hallway where Trent’s office is. My blood runs cold. I take a single step and stop. I listen again, praying that I misheard, knowing the sound was unmistakable.

  Crushed, I make my way down the back hallway and stand in the shadow as I see my boyfriend of six years pounding into my best friend. The same person who made friends with me on the playground when she first came to town in the second grade. The woman who has been, before Trent, the only constant in my life. She’s bent over the edge of his desk, and he has her hair tangled around his fist, arching her back so he can kiss her shoulder.

  “Fuck, Kitten. This pussy gets tighter every time I fuck it,” Trent says to her on a moan.

  Kitten? Every time?

  A shiver races up my spine when he uses not only the same pet name I’d once loved but a phrase he’s praised me with for years. Nothing has been sacred. It also informs me that this is far from the first time they’ve done this.

  I’m in utter shock. Later I’ll ask myself why I stood there as long as I did. More so I’ll wonder how I backed out of the hallway, calmly placed the still hot coffee on the bar, and walked out of there and never looked back.

  They’ll find the coffee. They’ll know I was there because my name is written on both cups courtesy of the barista at Starbucks. Any other conclusions they draw is on them. As for me? I’m done. The only people I have in my life that I love have betrayed me. I have nothing left.

  In a form less than myself I make my way home and pray I have enough time to pack and leave before they discover the coffee on the bar.

  I sneer at the thought that since Trent already came with me in the shower this morning, he will last longer this time around. Another unwelcome thought comes to mind when I picture their morning betrayal on repeat in my head. I don’t think they were using a condom.

  This pisses me off even through the haze of my devastation. Now I have to get myself checked for STDs. There’s no telling what Trent has been up to for the past six years of my life. He’s loving and attentive. He’s never pulled away from me. The only issue we’ve had lately is him working so much. Now I know he’s been leaving me in the morning to no doubt bang my best friend.

  I may not be aware of all that Trent has been doing, but I’m well aware of the lifestyle my never satisfied best friend has. Knowing he’s not been using protection with her, means I’ll be at a clinic first thing Monday morning. I never had a problem with her love ‘em and leave ‘em lifestyle until just now, knowing Trent’s dick has been in her, bare.

  I drag the rarely used suitcases from the spare bedroom and set them up on the bed. Six years of my life has been spent in this house. I came straight fro
m a college dorm room to Trent’s house, so all I had were my clothes and a few other small personal effects. Everything I’ve obtained since has been with Trent. I need none of it. I want no reminder of the wasted years. I don’t want to be reminded that while I’ve been hoping he would ask me to marry him and start a family, he’s been sleeping with my best friend.

  I grab my clothes, personal items from the bathroom, and the small photo album I have of my parents. My sad life fits in two suitcases with room to spare. Pitiful.

  I tug the suitcases to the front door and take one last glance at the home I thought I’d eventually raise children in after Trent manned up and asked me to marry him.

  Wasted time.

  Wasted hope.

  Wasted life.

  I lift my hand to my neck as a single tear rolls down my cheek. The first tear, but I know it’s far from the last. My fingers brush across the gold and diamond infinity symbol hanging around my neck. I cherish this necklace. He gave it to me years ago, at the same time promising me he will love me and protect me always.

  Lies.

  Every word that he’s spewed from his beautiful mouth has been a lie. Every kiss, every I love you, and every unspoken ounce of satisfaction reflected in his glacial blue eyes has been a betrayal.

  I tug the necklace until the chain breaks free and place it with a strangely calm hand on the table near the entryway. I turn and leave my entire life behind with no idea or plans for my future.

  Living in the northwestern area of Great Falls, Montana has me on Interstate 15 heading north in a matter of minutes. An hour and a half later I’m pulling into a tiny gas station in Shelby. I take the time to fuel up and set my radio to the same playlist I used nine years ago when my parents died; the sad songs of loss and despair seem fitting.

  I hit Subway for lunch and decide to go ahead and eat in the dining area. They have no drive-thru, so I had to get out of the car anyways. I pick a quiet corner and stick my headphones in, continuing to work through my grief while I eat.

  It’s early afternoon and in a hasty decision I’ve decided I’ll head west toward Washington and possibly later will head to Alaska. Putting thousands of miles and a huge chunk of Canada between the people who’ve betrayed me seems like a good idea. If I continue on IH15 right now, I’ll hit Canada, and I don’t feel like digging for my passport. West it is.