Park Avenue Punk Page 8

  “And here I thought you just wanted me for the sex.” My lips curved down into a pout.

  “Oh, I definitely want that.” She slithered her body up against mine, driving me nuts, just like always.

  “Can we just skip to the wedding night?” I groaned as I nuzzled my nose into the soft skin on her neck, inhaling her scent.

  “And miss seeing you all handsome in a monkey suit? Not a chance.” She threaded her fingers through my hair.

  The officiant cleared his throat, disapproving eyes on me. “We welcome everyone here today…”

  I held Deven in my arms as we swayed on the dance floor at the reception an hour later. The wedding had gone off without a hitch, much to our mothers' pleasure.

  I didn't care about any of the hoopla, only her. Deven made me so fucking happy, I owed her everything. She was my entire fucking heart. Sometimes it felt like the waves were crashing and the stars were falling all for us. I couldn't wait to be with this woman forever.

  I’d almost lost her once, and that'd haunted me for years.

  I pulled her tighter against me as we danced, engulfing her with my body, reassuring myself she was here, this was real, and we were each other’s forever.

  Deven pressed her body up against mine then, eyes flashing before she stretched on her toes and whispered in my ear. She pulled away, eyes twinkling as an entertaining smile crossed her cheeks with her little surprise reveal.

  I pulled away, my mouth dropping in shock as I processed her words. Her eyes gleamed with mischief as she watched me.

  “How about a few words from the groom?” The DJ chose that moment to press a mic into my hands.

  Was it all planned?

  I sucked in a few deep breaths as Deven watched me. Her curves were perfectly encased in all that lace, her soft waves curling around one shoulder and begging for my fingers, those beautiful lips turned up into a sexy smirk. She'd gotten one over on me, that was for damn sure.

  I shook my head and ran my hand over my face. “Sorry. Deven’s just…dropped a bit of a bomb on me. Apparently my wife is…we’re expecting a baby.”

  Tears burned behind my eyelids as I struggled to hold back the overwhelming emotion. I thrust the mic back into the DJ’s hands as guests cheered. I blocked the rest of it out except her dark gaze locked on me.

  I pulled her into my arms, held her tightly, lifted her off her feet, and kissed her like she was my reason.

  My reason for breathing. My reason for living. My reason for it all. My life began with her, and it would end with her and our baby.

  “I love you so fucking much,” I muttered against the soft flesh at her neck.

  “I love you too, Daddy,” she whispered.

  My heart clenched in my chest, and tears pooled in my eyes. I ran one hand up into her red waves and inhaled her soft scent. “I can’t wait to get you home and show you how happy I am.”

  “I think that’s what got us here in the first place, Styles.”

  “Princess…”

  Second Epilogue

  Deven –Six Years Later

  “Can you change the baby's diaper?” I called from down the hall.

  “I had the last one,” Jameson yelled as he watched the football game.

  “Babe, I can’t change the diaper, seriously. It will make me sick,” I whined as I stepped into the room, Brady wiggling in my arms in only a diaper.

  “Shouldn’t he be potty trained by now anyway?” he groaned as he stood from the couch.

  “He’s only eighteen months old, so no.” I thrust our boy into his arms.

  “Jesus.” Jameson held Brady’s stinky self at arm’s length. “Come on, buddy. Don’t you want to use the toilet like a big boy?”

  “No.”

  Ah, there it was. No. One of the few words he knew and used excessively.

  “What a bum deal if you’re going to be like this the whole pregnancy,” Jameson grumbled good-naturedly as he headed down the hall and into the nursery.

  “It’s just the beginning that my nose is so sensitive.” I rubbed my tummy softly as I followed after them.

  “Mommy! Look at our paintings!” the boys called as they entered the nursery with Aunt Lori in tow.

  “My little artists, so much talent.” I bent and caught them both in my arms, hugging them tightly. Soon, we would grow from a family of five to six, but there was no feeling like the first time.

  Welcoming Kellen and Harrison into our lives had been a whirlwind. Twins had been the last thing we were expecting, but neither of our mothers had been surprised when we broke the news.

  I looked back at Jameson as he lifted our one and a half year-old son into the air and spun him around until he was giggling wildly. My heart stuttered to a stop, looking at all the men in my life who made my heart beat.

  “Hey, Mama.” My gorgeous husband pressed a kiss to my lips.

  I held his cheek as I kissed him. “Hey.”

  “You look extra beautiful with that smile on your face,”

  “Thanks for putting it there.” I took his lips with mine again.

  “Daddy! Show me how to paint with the sponge again, please!” Harrison, the littler of our twins, breathed at his legs.

  “He’s ready, Daddy.” I smiled sweetly.

  “After I set them up, can I get some alone time with my girl?” He quirked an eyebrow suggestively.

  “Maybe at nap time, Mr. Styles.” I rubbed my tummy, watching with dreamy eyes as Aunt Lori and Jameson set the boys up with painting sponges at their craft table overlooking the park.

  It's funny, how I'd almost hated this place, it was so lonely upon moving in, and now it was jam-packed with life. Jameson returned, wrapping his arms around my waist and swaying me back and forth as he tucked his nose into my neck. I sucked in a contented breath and lay back against his chest. “Thank you.”

  “For what?” His lips tickled the skin beneath my ear.

  “For everything. All of it. From the beginning to the end, thank you.”

  “Mmm, my pleasure, ma’am,” he said in his sexy, throaty voice.

  I turned in his arms and caught his gaze with my own. “Every minute I’m thankful for, even the hard ones.”

  Tears pricked behind my eyelids, as I looked at the beautiful boy who had been stopping and restarting my heart from the moment I’d met him.

  “Oh, baby.” He kissed me softly. “Thank you for bringing me back to life. For making this beat.” He put my hand on his heart. “It beats for you and them.” He gestured toward our babies. I patted his head, fresh and happy tears welling in my eyes as pregnancy hormones surged through me.

  I tucked my head into the crook of my husband's neck, inhaling deeply and soaking up his fresh paint scent that'd made my knees weak from the start. His lips whispered along my jawline as he placed soft kisses across my skin.

  “I love you,” I murmured.

  “I love you so much more,” he replied before his lips took mine in a reverent kiss, stealing my breath. He owned my heart. We owned each other. From the beginning, our lives had been set on a course, fated no matter what life threw our way. There'd been no deviating. Despite the bumps in the road, it’d gotten us here, and here was so good.

  Here was the best.

  Here was right where we were meant to be.

  Mrs. Jameson Styles, wife of the Park Avenue Punk and happiest woman in the world.

  “Now back to that alone time, beautiful…”

  “Any more alone time with you, and we'll have enough kids to populate a baseball team, Styles.”

  “That's exactly my plan, gorgeous. The Park Avenue Punks has a nice ring to it. I'm glad we're finally on the same page.”

  “The same page? I'm not even sure we're on the same planet some days, Styles.”

  He only laughed, pinching my bottom discreetly as he pressed our lips together in a sweet kiss. “As long as we can still practice making that baseball team, I'll take it.”

  About The Authors

  Mila C
rawford

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  Aria Cole

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  Also by Mila Crawford

  Hard Fix

  Edison Roads was born with a wrench in his hand to a working class family. He’s worked hard to get where he is; owner of one of the fastest growing companies in America. His success, coupled with his dashing looks have earned him the reputation of America’s Most Eligible Bachelor. But Edison isn’t a ladies’ man. He wants a real woman to share his success with. Problem is—there’s no one who’s ever caught his attention.

  Laney Mills was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. But the hum of an engine and the scent of motor oil was the only thing that made her feel like she was truly herself. She worked hard to establish her own business without capitalizing on her family’s wealth. So when The Lace Garage gets a fancy new competitor in town, she is less than ecstatic.

  Wanting to blow off steam, Lacey and Edison head to the same local bar unbeknownst to the other, where a night of explosive passion leads to a junkyard of problems.

  Should Laney and Edison try to repair the damage, or should they just scrap this lemon? Either way, this internal combustion is one hell of hard fix.

  Warning: Get your engines running with these two mechanics. Laney will do anything to drive him off the road while all Edison can think about is getting under her hood.

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  Also by Aria Cole

  Banger

  Meet Tobias Banger...

  He's the demanding, dominant, sultry-as-sin CEO of Banger Industries, and he's used to getting what he wants. Every time. He's built a Fortune 500 company from the ground up. The last thing he needs is a pretty woman distracting him from his empire.

  Curvy, sassy secretary Ellis Ford isn't just any pretty woman...

  Fresh out of college, she's smart, focused, sometimes sarcastic, and trying desperately to contain the wildfire that licks at her insides whenever Mr. Banger calls her name.

  One forbidden night while locked in a closet, and the office will never be the same...

  The chemistry between Ellis and Tobias sizzles until raw passion ignites in a frenzy of filthy words, frantic lust, and all-consuming basic instinct. He's hell-bent on claiming her. She's too blinded by his charm to see the ghosts haunting his dark eyes. Will one night with Tobias be something she'll live to regret?

  Warning: This isn't your grandmother's office romance. Tobias Banger has a filthy mouth, and an irresistible charm that drops panties. When he finds the woman he wants, nothing will stop him from taking her. Grab a glass of wine, charge up the Kindle, and prepare to get banged by the boss!

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  Excerpt from Pile Driver

  Arkin

  “Look at the ass on her. I swear if I could just get her alone for five minutes…”

  “You’d what?” I took another deep swig of my beer. “Talk her pants off with your charming personality?”

  I finished my beer, nodding to the server in question to get our table another round.

  “Hey, I boil my ass off in the heat all day. A man needs a girl like that to come home to.” The newest guy on our crew wasn’t leaving me with a stellar first impression. As the foreman, I liked to get to know the guys I worked with, so usually I liked to take them out after work so we could blow off some steam and unwind.

  “You gonna take her home to your double wide?” I laughed. “That place is such a fucking mess. A girl like that would take one look at it and run for the hills.”

  Josh ignored me, eyes lingering on the curves of the young waitress. “Look at her, bending over for that bottle. She’s giving me a show, boys.”

  I only shook my head. I couldn’t stand a guy who wore his stereotype on his sleeve. Cat-calling women wasn’t allowed on my crew—never was, never will be.

  “Last round, and we should be heading out—dawn comes early if we want to try to beat the heat tomorrow.” My mind was still fiddling with the details of our latest job, preparing and laying the groundwork for a new business going in on the same block as this fine drinking establishment.

  The server approached, our tray of half a dozen beers teetering precariously on her palm. Her eyes were trained on the tray, a look of adorable focus on her face as she weaved through the tables to reach ours. “Here you are, gentlemen.”

  She quickly set the beers at the table, scanning us once, eyes lingering on me before she finally asked, “Anything else I can get you?”

  I smiled casually, about to thank her for her time and request the check, when Josh, out of nowhere, spat, “Just your phone number, baby.”

  Glass shattered on the ground.

  Oh no, that motherfucker better have not done something.

  The server’s formerly friendly face twisted into one of shock and then shame. She turned, hand sliding across her ass cheek in just the spot I imagined Josh’s big, burly fucking hand had landed.

  He was already high-fiving one of the other guys, laughing as she walked away.

  And I was already seeing red.

  I jumped from my seat, sending the chair clattering across the floor behind me. My hands at his neck, I hauled him out of his seat—because no man would hit another man while he was sitting down—and cracked him across the head.

  “You’re off my crew, you filthy fucking pig.” I shoved him down the narrow aisle between the rows of half-drunk customers. “You’d better hope I don’t catch you talkin’ to a woman like that again, or I’ll put your punk ass in the hospital.”

  “Fuck you, Arkin. I hate being on your crew anyway,” Josh said as he rubbed his neck, eyes boring a hole into mine before he turned, shoving his way through the doors and walking off into the night.

  “So…” One of the other guys lifted a beer to his lips and paused. “Does this make you a feminist now?”

  The table hummed silently, the air charged with my irritation. “You have mothers, don’t you? Sisters? You want any asshole treating them like that? Now pardon me, boys. I’ve got to apologize to that young lady on behalf of that animal.”

  I left my beer and crew in the dust, beelining through the crowd in search of the embarrassed woman my former employee had just run off.

  “Excuse me,” I said with a nod, swerving around another young server before turning down a hallway and catching sight of a pair of red Chuck Taylor sneakers behind a curtain.

  I’d recognize those sneakers anywhere.

  “Phoning a friend for backup in here?” I snuck behind the curtain, hiding in the old-fashioned phone booth with her. Her eyes were startled and teary as she looked up at me. I dropped the curtain, shrouding us in darkness again, only a sliver of light illuminating her sad, tear-stained cheeks.

  “Hey, I can’t tell you how sorry I am about that asshat.”

  My words hung heavy between us.

  I swallowed, measuring my next words, wishing she’d make this a little easier on me. I didn’t have a lot of experience with things like women and emotions.

  “I, uh…” I stumbled for some way I could console her. “I don’t take well to men treating women like that. Not on the job, and not off.” I paused, swallowing down the urge to push a rogue strand of dark hair behind her ear. “I fired him.”

  Her eyes slid up to meet mine under heavy eyelashes then. Something about us being crammed up in this little space together had me wanting to…protect her in some way. Shroud her from every fucking idiot in this bar.

  I imagined walking at her side, arm cradling her nice and close to me, slaying all the dragons for her.

  “I told him if I saw him treat a woman like that again, I’d leave him with a one-way ticket to the emergency room.” I shifted, thinking what a terrible idea it’d been that I ducked behind this curtain at all. She didn’t want a big annoying bastard like me around her.

  “I
just wanted you to know that. Hopefully I ran him off for good.” I pushed the curtain aside. “I’ll leave you to your space now. I just wanted to apologize on behalf of—”

  “What if he comes back?” she spat fiercely.

  “What?” I asked, too rattled by the sound of her soft fierceness to even register her question.

  “What is he’s out there right now, waiting for me to get off my shift? Or tomorrow night? What then?”

  I stood a little, stumped, before ducking back behind the curtain with her. “I’ll leave you my number. You can use it day or night if you—”

  “Right, like my own personal bodyguard?” She shook her head, wiping her tears. “Sounds like a great pickup line. Ya know, you construction workers are all the same.”

  “Is that so?” My voice dropped an octave, suddenly very interested in whatever this woman was saying. “Care to tell me how I’m the same as that fucker who just grabbed your ass?”

  “Because.” She crossed her arms, taking a step closer to me. “You’re trying to leave me with your phone number. You’re all pigs.”

  “Oh yeah?” I couldn't think beyond proving her wrong, whatever it took.

  “Yeah.” She edged closer, arms brushing across the wide wall of my chest. “Every last one of you.”

  Just as the thought was runnin’ through my mind that I should prove her right and pull her into my arms and kiss her senseless, she did the opposite, tossing me the middle finger and then doing the damn unthinkable and pushing through the curtain before walking off.

  “Well, sonuvabitch.” I thrust a hand over my day-old beard, leaving that crowded little phone booth more confused than I’d entered it. “So much for makin’ things right.”