Love Bug (The Prescotts Book 3), Tara Wyatt [best mobile ebook reader .txt] 📗

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Bad Intentions

Bad Intentions Excerpt

Books by Tara Wyatt

About the Author

Love Bug © 2021 by Tara Wyatt

All rights reserved.

Cover Design by Croco Designs

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes only.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

ISBN 978-1-7771046-8-9

1

Willa Banks couldn’t seem to stop shaking and it wasn’t because of the cold. Ice pellets slapped against the windows of the black SUV, but she was trembling because less than an hour ago, she’d thought she was going to die.

She couldn’t stop replaying it over and over in her mind—the men with guns in her apartment, the absolutely paralyzing fear that her life was about to end—but it didn’t feel real. That couldn’t have actually happened. There was no way that armed men had invaded the apartment she shared with her best friend Kayla Bristowe and threatened to kill them both because they were looking for Kayla’s boyfriend, Sebastian Prescott.

But it had happened, along with Sebastian’s brothers Max and Lucian busting in to save them.

Dispose of the roommate.

She shook a little harder and Max turned up the heat in the SUV. They’d dropped Kayla off at Lucian’s, waiting there with her until Lucian had returned. She could’ve stayed there too, but when Max had offered to take her back to his place, she’d agreed, wanting to give Kayla and Sebastian a little space. And, truth be told, wanting the comfort of being near Max.

Max, who she’d frantically texted “911 home invasion pls help” when the men had burst in. They’d told her and Kayla that they’d kill them if they called the police and she hadn’t been willing to take a chance that they were bluffing. But she’d needed to text someone, to try to get help somehow, and given that the men had said they were looking for Sebastian, she’d figured that his brother Max was as good a person as any. But it was more than that. Thinking she was going to die, the one person she’d thought of was Max.

Max, who was her boss. Who was grumpy as hell. Who was so sexy that she often lost her train of thought around him. Not that he’d ever given any indication that he felt the same way about her. He most definitely hadn’t, making her insane crush on him completely one-sided, and therefore a little embarrassing.

They drove in silence and as the seat warmer worked its magic, she felt some of the tension ease from her muscles, her trembling subsiding. He turned into a parking garage below an impressive building in SoHo, swiping a card he’d pulled from the center console for entry. When he parked, he pulled into a space reserved for the South Penthouse.

“You’ll be safe here,” he said, his deep voice rubbing over her frayed nerves like silk. Even now, on the worst night of her life, her body was responding to him. Apparently her hormones or ovaries or whatever hadn’t gotten the message that she’d almost died tonight. That she should be thinking about other things besides Max.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, swallowing around the lump in her throat. All of her emotions were still right there, simmering under the surface. But as grateful as she was to Max—and Lucian—for coming to their rescue tonight, she didn’t want to break down in front of him. They were work colleagues and they didn’t have that kind of relationship. She knew her vulnerability would make him uncomfortable.

He simply nodded then stepped out of the SUV. She moved to push her door open, but he beat her to it, opening it for her and then sliding an arm around her waist to help her down. She didn’t really need the support, but she wasn’t going to push him away. It felt far too good to have someone touch her. Physical contact was a comfort she was craving right now. His touch was reassuring. Strengthening, even.

He guided her toward a sleek silver elevator in the corner, using yet another key card to call it. Sealed inside together, she was acutely aware of their size difference. She was 5’4 and he was almost a foot taller than her, and probably a hundred pounds heavier. She’d always been self-conscious about her size—no boobs, no hips, no ass, just a figure worthy of a twelve-year-old boy. On a good day, she told herself that she looked like Kate Moss. On a bad day, she used words like scrawny and bony. But with Max, she didn’t feel scrawny. There was something about how big he was that put her at ease. She liked the difference. Maybe because it made her feel safe. Maybe because it made her feel feminine.

Not that it mattered.

The elevator doors slid open and she sucked in a sharp gasp. Before her was a massive penthouse, the walls made up entirely of windows. The Tribeca skyline gleamed in the night, the lights of One World Trade Center shining right in the middle of it all. She could see the Hudson River and Canal Street, lights sparkling softly. Up here, surrounded by glass, it felt like the city was putting on a show, just for her.

It was beautiful, and after the ugliness of the night, she could use a little beauty. Stepping out of the elevator, her eyes roved over the impressive space, taking in the sleek, high end furniture, designer kitchen, and clear staircase that was engineered to look like it was floating. It was minimalistic and pristine, like something out of a magazine or design show on TV. As gorgeous as it was, it didn’t look like anyone actually lived