Marx Girl Read online

  MARX GIRL

  TL Swan

  Contents

  Books By T L Swan

  Timeline

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  EPILOGUE - Marx Girl

  Books By T L Swan

  Stanton Adore

  Stanton Unconditional

  Stanton Completely

  Stanton Bliss

  Find Me Alastar

  Play Along

  Dr Stantons The Epilogue

  Timeline

  Marx Girl Is A Standalone

  This timeline is for those who want to know where this story sits

  in relation to the other characters.

  Joshua and Natasha

  Stanton Adore

  Stanton Unconditional

  Stanton Completely

  Stanton Bliss

  Adrian - Eighteen months later

  Anastas (yet to be released)

  Bridget and Ben - Five Years later

  Marx Girl

  Cameron Stanton - Ten Years Later

  Dr Stanton

  Dr Stantons The Epilogue

  This book is a work of fiction.

  Any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, are purely coincidental.

  Copyright 2018 by T L Swan

  ISBN: 9780646921839

  All rights reserved

  Acknowledgments

  To my amazing beta team, Mum, Vicki, Am, Rachel M, Lisa K, Lisa D

  Nadia, Jane, Nicole, Rachel and Kellie.

  What a hell of a job you all have!

  Not only do I make you read my books at a snail’s pace, chapter by chapter as I write them… but you also have to read at least three versions of the same story. Same plot but different deliveries.

  As you know, I’m never happy with what I write, so I keep going and I write it again and again, until I am.

  You never complain, you never whine.

  You are patient and supportive and kind

  And so, so loved.

  I only write the way I do because of your feedback and honesty.

  Thank you just doesn’t seem enough for all that you do for me,

  But, thank you.

  To my publicist, Linda, and the team from Forward PR

  Thank you for everything that you do. To Vic, thank you for all that you do for me.

  You make me better.

  To my beautiful readers that have become friends in my Facebook family, The Swan Squad.

  You girls make me laugh every day and give me a safe place to call home.

  To my amazing review team

  Well, you girls just rock… that goes without saying.

  Thank you for helping me find my way through this author gig.

  You are all so appreciated and loved.

  To each and every person who has read one of my books.

  Thank you for making my dreams come true.

  To my partner in crime, aka hubs,

  Your support this last year has been ridiculous.

  Ridiculously good. I love you more than ever.

  And to my three beautiful kids,

  You are my reason.

  xoxoxox

  Gratitude

  The quality of being thankful; readiness to show appreciation for and to return kindness.

  Thank you

  Prologue

  Kamala

  “Don’t look at me like you want me… not if you don’t,” I murmur into the silence.

  He sits back and readjusts himself in his pants. His dark eyes hold mine, yet he doesn’t answer me.

  The water laps around me as I lie on the inflatable mattress, floating around the pool in my white string bikini. The sun is just setting, and everyone has disappeared to get ready for dinner.

  We’re alone.

  His eyes are locked on me from his poolside deckchair position.

  He has no right to look at me, to watch me with wanting eyes.

  But he does.

  And I still like it.

  Ben is my sister’s family’s bodyguard and the head of their security.

  Things are difficult between us, to say the least.

  The attraction between us wasn’t supposed to happen, but forbidden had never felt so good.

  Six-foot-three-inches tall with sandy hair, honey-brown eyes, and a large, muscular physique, he’s a by-product of being ex-military.

  Ben Statham is one hell of a man.

  From the lingering looks, the clenching deep in my sex when he looks at me, the smouldering fire whenever he would sneak into my room late at night…

  It led to our story beginning six months ago, when my sister Natasha became involved with her then-boyfriend, Joshua Stanton.

  I was always with Tash, and Ben was always with Josh. We came together through circumstance. Acquaintances and nothing more.

  He was the strong man at the back of the crowd, watching over everyone.

  I was busy watching him.

  The rest of the world was concentrating on my beloved sister and Joshua’s blossoming relationship.

  I was concentrating on fighting the attraction, but the pull to him only grew day by day.

  Laughter turned to conversation, conversation introduced lingering looks, and lingering looks turned to goose bumps, until one day in the kitchen pantry it happened.

  Ben kissed me.

  It was the most perfect kiss I’ve ever had.

  It was sweet, sexy, and it opened a world of passion I never even knew existed.

  For three weeks we snuck a kiss in where we could until, in a moment of foggy passion, I asked him to come to my room after everyone went to sleep that night.

  He did.

  We made love. Storybook love.

  The perfection we’d created carried on for six weeks, until tragedy struck our family. As the head of security Ben blamed himself, and pulled away from me.

  When I needed him the most, he was nowhere around to offer support.

  We’ve hardly spoken since.

  And now we’re here on a family vacation in Kamala, Thailand.

  My feelings for him haven’t changed.

  He’s still the head of security.

  I’m still his boss’ sister-in-law.

  But he left me when I needed him the most, and I won’t forget that anytime soon.

  Our eyes are locked.

  “Why would you think I don’t want you?” he whispers in his heavy South African accent.

  I frown, unsure how to answer. Eventually, I reply, “Do you?”

  He sips his beer, contemplating the right way to answer.

  I run my fingers through the water beneath me as I try to articulate my thoughts.

  I don’t know what’s going on with us, but I do know I can’t stand feeling the way I feel.

  I can’t go on without him giving me the answers I need. He’s a strong man who doesn’t show his true feelings, but what happened to us? How do you go from passionate lovers to being nothing, without even a conversation?

  There was no fight, no discussion. Just silence.

  He doesn’t
answer my question. His jaw clenches as his gaze holds mine. My eyes search his.

  What the fuck is going on with him?

  Does he want me to beg?

  Answer me, damn it.

  I climb off the inflatable mattress and make my way to the pool steps. I want to be the one who ends the conversation, not the other way around.

  Who am I kidding?

  I’m the only one in this conversation. I slowly walk out of the pool, and his hungry gaze drops down my body. I bend and pick up my towel to wrap it around my waist, and with one last lingering look I walk inside.

  His refusal to address our issues infuriates me.

  It hurts me, and it makes me wonder if everything we shared was an illusion.

  I know he’s strong. I know he’s not a talker. But those nights in his arms were filled with tenderness and love.

  Where is that man?

  Because I want him back.

  I lie in the darkness at 1:00 a.m. The sound of the ocean drifts through the room, and a soft breeze rolls over my body. As usual, I’m torturing myself with thoughts of Ben Statham and his beautiful body. Where is he now? Is he asleep?

  The last time we were together I told him I loved him. I never meant to, but I couldn’t help it. I was all soft and emotional from my orgasm high, and the words just slipped out.

  Is that why he ran?

  I blow out a deep breath and stare at the ceiling as I go over that last night we spent together for the ten-thousandth time.

  If I knew it was to be our last night together I would have done more, said more, done anything to make him stay.

  The door opens, and I roll over. My heart catches in my chest.

  “Ben,” I whisper.

  He walks in and closes the door behind him, his hands clenching at his sides. He seems nervous.

  I frown into the diluted light as I watch him.

  “I wanted to see you,” he whispers.

  I lie still. He can do the talking this time.

  “I look at you like I want you…” He pauses and clenches his hands at his sides. “…because I do,” he whispers.

  I frown.

  “You have no idea how badly I want you, Bridget, or how hard it is for me to stay away.”

  “Then why? Why are you doing this to us?” I whisper.

  He sits on the side of the bed and cups my face in his hands, his eyes searching mine in the moonlit room as his thumb gently dusts over my bottom lip. He hesitates, and frowns as if pained. “I’m not who you think I am.”

  I sit up, resting on my elbow, and I frown as I watch him. “Are you married?” I whisper. Oh, no. My heart starts to hammer. He has a whole other life in South Africa, doesn’t he? I have no idea what’s going on at home for him.

  He shakes his head, and a soft smile crosses his face. “No, I’m not married.” He frowns harder, and leans in to kiss me softly. “But I’m not able to give you my heart.”

  Tears fill my eyes.

  He shakes his head. “Please…” He pauses. “Know that I love you, Bridget.”

  “Ben,” I whisper. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

  He leans in and sweeps his tongue gently between my lips, and I scrunch my face up to fight the tears.

  It’s there again, the urge to tell him that I love him.

  This man makes me so weak.

  I sit up and wrap my arms around his broad shoulders. We kiss slowly, and I feel my arousal start to rise.

  “I’ve come to say goodbye,” he whispers against my lips.

  “What?” My eyes search his again. “But you said—”

  He cuts me off. “I can’t be who you want me to be, Bridget.”

  “Yes, you can, Ben. You’re who I want,” I whisper angrily. Damn it, I hate this sneaking around shit. I can’t even raise my voice the way I want to.

  He runs his thumb over my cheekbone as he studies my face. “I have a past, Didge, one that I don’t want to ever catch up with you. I won’t bring that into your life.”

  I shake my head. “What are you talking about? We all have a past. We can work it out together, Ben.”

  “Goodbye, Bridget,” he whispers sadly before he tries to stand, but I grab his wrist.

  “No. Don’t go,” I beg as I lose control. “Don’t leave me. I love you.”

  He bends and kisses me gently. “Remember me with love, angel.”

  I stare at him through my tears.

  “I love you,” he whispers.

  I suddenly become panicked. “Don’t go,” I beg.

  He stares at me in the darkness.

  I shake my head, unable to stand it. I need more time. I need more time to try and make him stay. “One more time,” I whisper. “Say goodbye to me properly.”

  “Bridget,” he breathes.

  “Ben, it’s just the two of us here.” I pull him down to kiss his lips softly. “If you want to say goodbye to me, do it when you have to. I can’t bear to let you go tonight.” My voice cracks in pain.

  “Baby, shh.” He calms me as he sweeps the hair back from my forehead and studies my face. “It will be all right.”

  “How can it be all right if you’re leaving me?” I whisper through tears.

  He takes me in his arms and we cling to each other tightly; so tight that it feels like I might break if I let him go. Maybe I will.

  “I need you,” I murmur against his lips as he kisses me. His tongue dances with mine as his hand roams over my hip and he squeezes it with force.

  “Bridget,” he murmurs, and I know that he’s having an internal battle with himself.

  He wants me, but he thinks this is the wrong thing to do.

  But making love to Ben could never be wrong, and I’ll face those consequences tomorrow. I slowly sit up and slide my white silk nightdress over my shoulders, and throw it onto the floor. His eyes drop hungrily to my breasts. I lay back and spread my legs as a silent invitation. His eyes drop to the crotch of my pale pink panties.

  His eyes darken and his tongue darts out to swipe over his bottom lip.

  Oh… he wants me all right.

  I run my hand up over my breast and squeeze it. “It’s been six weeks since you’ve been inside me, Ben.” I arch my back off the bed. “I can’t stand another moment without you.”

  He frowns, and I see the last of his resistance teetering on the edge.

  “Fill me up, big boy. Make sure I never forget you.”

  His jaw clenches as his eyes flicker with arousal, and he stands in one quick movement to take his T-shirt off over his head.

  My eyes roam over his thick, broad chest that’s covered with a scattering of dark hair. His arms are huge, and I can see every muscle in his stomach. The distinct V of muscles that disappear into his jeans holds me captive. I drag my eyes to his perfect face, and my heart somersaults in my chest. He has the most beautiful body in the world… but it’s his soul that I love. The dominant alpha man who has shown me what it’s like to really love someone.

  What it feels like to be adored and loved by someone so deeply that nothing else matters.

  He knows what my body needs more than I do, and I wriggle on the bed as he slides his jeans down his legs. My mouth goes dry.

  Holy fucking hell. He’s a god.

  His thick, hard cock hangs heavily between his legs, and he takes it in his hand to stroke it three times as his eyes hold mine.

  “You want this, Bridget?” he whispers as he strokes himself.

  I nod as my mouth goes dry, my eyes fixed on the pre-ejaculate that drips from the end. Fuck, yeah.

  “You get over here and suck me. Make sure I never forget you.”

  Our eyes lock, and he gives me the best ‘come fuck me’ look I’ve ever seen.

  Suddenly, I’m desperate. Desperate to please him.

  Desperate to make him stay.

  I scramble towards him on my knees and take him deep in my mouth. He inhales sharply.

  “Good girl,” he breathes as his hands fall to the back of my h
ead.

  My insides begin to melt, and I moan around him. He pushes himself deep—so deep—and his eyes close in pleasure. I have to concentrate to block my gag reflex.

  Fucking hell. Bringing him to his undoing is my favourite thing in the whole damn world.

  He hisses as he builds a rhythm, my hair gripped tightly in his hands.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he murmurs under his breath.

  “You like that, baby?” I whisper around him.

  His eyes flicker with arousal. “I fucking… love that,” he pants. A sheen of perspiration covers his skin and it revs me up even more.

  He loses control and throws me onto the bed. I bounce high and then he’s on me as he slides my panties down and throws them in the air, off the bed.

  His lips trail down over my breasts, and he takes them into his mouth to suck them one at a time. His suction is so hard that my face scrunches up in pain and my back arches off the bed.

  This is what he does to me.

  He gets me so hot for him that I beg him to be rough, like I’m some kind of crazy animal beneath him that needs to be tamed.

  Controlled.

  His lips drop lower… and lower… and I hold my breath and close my eyes.

  Oh, dear God, he’s amazing at this.

  The king.

  His tongue sweeps through my flesh, and he grabs my legs and forces them back to the mattress. “Open up,” he growls as his dark eyes hold mine. He tenderly kisses my inner thigh.

  This is too much, too intense, too intimate. I look away.