Giving In (The Sandy Cove Series Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

killer. I shut my eyes
momentarily in the hopes that the coffee will miraculously brew
faster if I will it to, and I hear something. A high-pitched squeal
of some sort. Sometimes muffled, and I know it’s not the sound of a
seagull. I walk around to investigate. I hear it again. Where is
that coming from? I look out a window on the side of the house,
nothing there. I look out the window to the dock, nothing. I walk
to the sliding door which leads out onto the front deck. I hear it
again, and jump back. Oh, God, someone is being murdered right
outside this very door. I run to the kitchen, grab the house phone
and a large, sharp knife from the butcher block on the counter. I
once again approach the door. 911 is about to be dialed, and now
I’m waiting to see the murderer. I rip open the drapes, and swing
open the sliding door with the force of a Trojan solider. And I
jump, knife in hand, ready to stab, and I scream.
    “Oh, my God. Oh, my God. I… I’m so sorry. I had
no idea what that noise was. Oh, my God.” I turn around after I see
in front of me, not a murder, not some kind of sick crime, or a
robbery, but a leggy, dark-haired, tanned girl riding a guy on a
lounge chair… reverse cowgirl style. Nude. I mean, butt-ass naked.
I couldn’t see his face, because it was covered by Miss Big Tit’s
head. All I can see is his big hands grasping her hips, and the
unrelenting moans coming from both of them. And do they stop when
they see a twenty three year old woman in her Minnie Mouse pajama
pants, wielding a butcher knife? No. They continue. Bouncing before
me, like my existence has no bearing on their activity. With my
back still turned to the couple, Willow and Thea run out the door
apparently after my blood-curdling screams were heard. They come to
a complete halt and scream themselves. Enter Max and Porter running
onto the deck from their house, Porter running over to cover Thea’s
eyes, (no idea why), and Max yielding an uncontrollable laugh.
    Mass confusion surrounds the deck. I still have
my eyes covered. The knife I held and dropped sticks up out of the
wood on the deck, and I’m annoyed. Thea tries to knock Porter’s
hands off her eyes, and Willow, well Willow is just plain
staring.
    “Well, I’ll be damned, take a look at those
tattoos.”
    I slap Willow, again, but I don’t turn around
until I hear Porter yell the one name that has been imbedded in my
brain since last night… Cruz.
    Son of a bitch.
    “Cruz, man, what the hell? Get her off of you.
We have girls standing here.”
    I will myself not to turn. Don’t do it, Harlow,
most of all, do not pick up that knife and stab that man to death.
And I don’t. My mind is strong. I try to have complete control. I
will have complete control over this situation. I hear some
rustling of clothing, and I look to Willow, who has a smirk on her
face. I ask Willow, “are they done, Wills?” She nods.
    That’s when my body swings around, and I charge
forward, bracing myself to tell this bastard what I really think of
him.
    Dickcop.
    And there it is. The bile I suddenly feel rising
up in my throat, the jaw dropping moment, the head-spinning,
mind-blowing enlightenment when I realize I have seen those inked
arms before. I have seen that face. I have seen that wavy brown
hair. My hands have been through it, felt it, pulled it, and those
striking blue eyes. They have crossed my path, and bore into me
like some kind of a hypnotizing coercion. I’ve looked into them. I
know I did.
    Those hands, they were on me.
    Those fingers in me.
    Those lips upon me.
    That tongue inside my mouth.
    And his… His…
    A flood gate of memories sweeps through my
head.
    Bar.
    Tequila shots.
    Eye contact.
    Head motion.
    Bathroom.
    Against the wall.
    No last names.
    Pure, raw, uninhibited, unlawful hot sex.
    He knows it. He knows it’s me by the cocky smirk
on his face. I’m frozen. My legs are locked, my muscles not
allowing me to go any further.
    “Hello, Miss Hannum, enjoying your