“Save me and have me, fix me and I’m yours.”
What do you do when you catch your fiancé grinding on another woman? Well, if you’re me, you run off with a sexy, ink-covered tattoo artist who goes by the name Wrong.
Then you marry him after a week.
This isn’t a story of love at first sight—love didn’t come into play until after I had ruined it all. It’s the reality of what is right and what is wrong when it comes to soulmates.
Brogan had intentionally given me a glimpse into himself by expressing his feelings in words he’d never shared with another living soul. But in that moment, when his eyes met mine, he offered me something else.
Likely unaware he’d even done so.
He gave me a piece of his vulnerability. His pain. A sliver of the hidden humiliation that he kept buried beneath a painted canvas. Covered in graffiti. Locked behind years of loss and doubt. It crossed his brow in shallow valleys of hesitation and colored his cheeks in raw insecurity.
He was open. Closed off. Pushing me away while desperately trying to hold me close.
It was too much to process at once, leaving me immobile, grounded in place. The only thing I could do was open my mouth and give him honesty. “Your words…they make my chest hurt. As I read them, I breathed them in, and they burrowed themselves next to my heart. Took up residence within my lungs. They’re powerful enough to keep me safe, yet just as capable of destroying me.”
“They make my eyes burn. Every vowel, every period. Every syllable you wrote and verse you formed did something to me that I’ve never experienced. I’ve never read something so beautiful, something that literally brought tears to my eyes.”
“Mercy, that’s enough.” Beneath the stern tone and harsh shell lay a boy who couldn’t accept my praise. “I didn’t do it for compliments. You said you didn’t know me, so I’m showing you who I am. You think I’m using you to kill time until Jessica comes back, and I’m trying to prove to you that I’m not. I don’t need your approval. I need you.”
Under his intense scrutiny, I became fully aware of my state of undress.
“I’m, uh… I’m going to put on some pants.” I took a few steps backward, holding my shirt down in the front.
“Hey, Mercy? Could you do me a favor?”
I stopped and held his stare.
“Next time you hang out with your ex, can you tell him that if he ever contacts me again, he’ll wish he’d never learned how to type? Thanks.”
“He did what? He texted you?”
He went right back to browning the meat, continuing as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb at my feet. “Email, but yeah. Same thing. I think he got off on telling me that I’m runner-up. I guess you told him that you’re waiting to see if he lied about where he was that night? And if he was telling the truth, you plan to get our marriage annulled?”
“He twisted what I said.”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t give a shit what he had to say.” He moved the pan off the burner. “Although, I don’t think he liked it too much when I told him I hoped he enjoyed the taste of my cum, because I fucked your pussy so hard and so deep it’ll be a while before it’s all out.”
I was shocked. And mortified. And incredibly turned on by his possessiveness.
“Did you really?”
His smile became visible in his eyes first, but half a second later, it was drawn across his face.
Leddy Harper had to use her imagination often as a child. She grew up the only girl in a house full of boys. At the age of fourteen, she decided to use that imagination and wrote her first book, and never stopped.
She often calls writing her therapy, using it as a way to deal with issues through the eyes of her characters.
She is now a mother of three girls, leaving her husband as the only man in a house full of females.
The decision to publish her first book was made as a way of showing her children to go after whatever it is they want to. Love what you do and do it well. Most importantly Leddy wanted to teach them what it means to overcome their fears.