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  HOLD ON

  ___________________________________

  By

  Dani Wyatt

  Copyright © 2019

  by Dani Wyatt

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places,

  events and incidents are either the products

  of the author’s imagination

  or used in a fictitious manner.

  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,

  is purely coincidental.

  www.daniwyatt.com

  Cover Credit PopKitty

  Editing Nicci Haydon

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  HOLD ON

  One | Marshall

  Two | Emmy

  Three | Marshall

  Four | Emmy

  Five | Marshall

  Six | Emmy

  Seven | Marshall

  Eight | Emmy

  Nine | Emmy

  Ten | Marshall

  Eleven | Marshall

  Twelve | Emmy

  Thirteen | Marshall

  Fourteen | Emmy

  Fifteen | Marshall

  Sixteen | Emmy

  Seventeen | Emmy

  GOODGIRLS SAY PLEASE

  OTHER TITLES BY DANI WYATT

  LET’S STAY CONNECTED!

  About Dani

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  A NOTE TO MY READERS:

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  Dedicated to cheap red wine.

  For DB for telling me to hold on.

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  One

  Marshall

  I SWEAR I CAN STILL smell the sweet scent of her pussy.

  From three hundred fucking miles away.

  Jesus, what’s happening to me?

  “Marshall.”

  I hear the sound of my name, along with the click of snapping fingers, sounding much farther away than from across the conference table.

  “Marshall. Fuck, are you with me, man?” My partner, Connor Craig, glares at me across the papers and file folders, open laptops that are in front of us, and I try to drag myself back to the moment.

  “What?” I snap, adjusting myself because my misbehaving cock has a new, single-minded focus, and it’s not on the multi-million-dollar deal I’m trying to close.

  He grabs the top of his head with both hands then raises them upward. “What?” His exasperation warranted. “We’re seeing the board of Newral AI in...” He checks his watch, a Vacheron Constantin that costs so much they don’t even tell you the price. “Less than an hour. And I still don’t know what the fuck they even do that’s different from the rest, let alone how we can get a big share of the pie if they go global.”

  “When they go global, not if. A healthy share of Newral is going to make us another hundred million, conservative estimate.” I press the heels of my hands to my forehead. “Sorry. I’m focused, I swear.”

  “You’re the magic deal maker, man. I can’t do this without you.”

  He looks nervous, and I don’t blame him. The deal we’re about to make is potentially huge. We’ll be investing a lot, and they’ll be trying to leave without giving up too much control of their firm.

  It’s a game of who blinks first, and I’m the champion player. Our firm will be taking a risk, as always, but Newral knows as well as I do, they have something that’s going to change the world. A few hours ago, this deal was all I could think about.

  But that all changed when Emmy showed up at my door and turned my well-ordered world upside down.

  She’s from the Ruff & Purr agency I use whenever I have to go away: house-sitting and pet care for my dog. They called last night to tell me my regular, Hank, was out with the flu, and they had to send someone new. I’m a hard-ass in the boardroom—shit, in most of my life—but when it comes to taking care of my dog, I spare no expense and take no chances.

  Hank has been with me for years, coming to the house almost daily to walk and care for Buddha when I can’t be there. Which is most of the time. My schedule is busy as fuck, but I refuse to let my dog suffer because of my choices.

  So, when the agency told me Hank was out on the eve of me going out of town, I was pissed. No way did I want someone new who I didn’t know and didn’t trust coming in at the eleventh hour. Besides, probably due to his rough start before he came to me, Buddha hates everyone. He tolerates Hank and likes me but doesn’t respect me, so finding a replacement that he wouldn't rip to shreds at the last minute felt impossible.

  I don’t like disorder, and I didn’t want to have to worry that someone new was screwing up the routine or not taking care of Buddha up to my standards, but given the circumstances I didn’t have much of a choice, so I told them to send over their best replacement early this morning so I'd have time to vet them in case it was a no-go and they needed to send someone else.

  Well.

  Fuck me running.

  When I opened the door and saw that little redhead standing there with her hair in two long braids as she applied her cherry lip gloss, I nearly had a heart attack. For a second, I blinked thinking she was a Girl Scout about to fleece me for a hundred boxes of Thin Mints. She was barely up to my chest but I knew from buzzing her through the gate who she was but it took me a few breaths to get my shit together.

  “Hi.” She waved at me and crinkled her nose, and my cock was instantly hard. “Sure is hot out today, isn’t it?” She said, standing there in the sunlight, and I felt like a monster...because she’s young.

  Too young.

  But I didn’t care. My dick sure didn’t care, either. And all I could think was, Jesus, I hope she’s legal.

  Through gritted teeth, I invited her in, watching her ass moving under her white shorts and her tits filling out her tank top, stretching the service’s corporate logo out over them, making my mouth water.

  Her stature reminded me of a little forest fairy but with curves that belong to the golden age of Hollywood.

  “I’m Emmy,” she said—but not to me—in this little chirpy, sexy voice.

  My take-no-shit English bulldog walked right up to her as she knelt down on the marble tile in the foyer and gave her cheek a good lick.

  As I watched her pet him like they’d known each other a lifetime, all I could think about was her being down on her knees with me sliding my cock between her lips, her innocent green eyes looking up at me.

  I watched as she stole glances between the dog and me, wondering how the hell I was going to leave her here and go on my trip.

  I wanted to put her in my pocket and carry her with me everywhere. I couldn’t stop staring at her, a study in contradictions. She was wearing these worn cowboy boots with her shorts and pink cupcake earrings.

  I thought of all the filthy things I wanted to whisper to her and see her cheeks blush and feel her pussy get wet under my fingers. And at the same time, I wanted to be the shield between her and anything that could cause her harm.

  She kissed Buddha on the head, and I nearly came out of my skin, wanting those lips to be on mine. On me. Anywhere. Everywhere.

  When she looked back up at me and smiled, the room began to
spin, and I had to excuse myself before I took out my cock and marked her with my cum right then and there.

  After a quick walk to my office and back, I took a deep breath and came back to see her still down on the floor with the dog who looked at me like he’s won the lottery.

  She pursed her lips, grabbed Buddha by the chin, then said quizzically, “I thought the agency said he could be aggressive. That he was a bit of a hard case.”

  It seems the only thing that’s going to be hard is me.

  It took me almost a year to find Hank, and I’ll have to pay him a nice bonus after this. Because from now on, no way will I ever need anyone else to fill my pet-sitting position.

  After I called the agency this morning to tell them Emmy was approved, she ran through the instructions for Buddha with me, not missing a single detail. In the past, Hank came three times a day, spending about an hour and a half with Buddha, and Emmy had the same schedule.

  With everything set up, what else could I do? As much as I wanted to stay, there was the meeting with Newral AI to get to. So, I gave her the keys to the house and the security codes, knowing somewhere in my crazed brain I wanted to have her here for more than just the two days I was supposed to be gone.

  I wanted her here for good. Forever.

  Fuck, I don’t know what’s happening to me.

  I didn’t want to leave, but knowing she was going to be in my house brought me some minor sense of relief. From the time I got to the airport and boarded the plane, I’ve been searching for any information I can find about my Emmy Winthrop—because I’m obsessed.

  She’s on Facebook but has almost nothing posted except her relationship status, which is single, thank fuck. I’ve not found any public records on her except her address, a farmhouse about fifteen miles outside of town. With some searching, it turns out her parents are deceased. She has no credit history and no other social media profiles. I can't get much more than that for now, but I will.

  As soon as I’m done with this business, I’m coming for her and everything about her.

  “Marshall, you need to focus. I’m not kidding.” Connor interrupts my dirty thoughts, and I grit my teeth as I start to go through the details and projections I’ve put together on Newral AI one more time, trying not to think of her in my house, sitting on my couch, kissing my fucking dog...

  Three hours later, by some miracle, our meeting is a success. The best deals are the ones where everyone comes out smiling, and this is one of those. Newral are going to get the venture capital they need to build on their already impressive foundation, and my fund is going to share in the glory when they do.

  And the profits.

  As we all shake hands, Connor turns to me clapping his hands in front of him. “Ready to go celebrate?” He looks at the three tech nerds who just signed a contract that will set them up for a billion-dollar IPO in a few years if things go as we all hope, and they look ready to celebrate all night.

  But it’s nearly seven o’clock, and all I can think about is getting home.

  “I have to leave,” I bark.

  Connor takes me by the elbow stepping away then grips my shoulder facing off with me.

  “Have you lost your fucking mind?” He seethes in a low tone so the Newral guys don’t hear.

  A beat passes, but I shake my head and give him the truth.

  “Yeah. Without a doubt..”

  Two

  Emmy

  “NO PROBLEM WITH YOUR appetite.” I watch as Buddha licks his lips, then his empty bowl, before looking up at me with droopy, sorrowful eyes. “Nope, sorry, chunky monkey, no more. You could stand to lose a few pounds.”

  His slobbery pink tongue makes one more swipe around his mouth before he concedes defeat, ambling away and settling onto one of the many dog beds scattered around the house.

  I’ve already taken him for a long walk, played with him out in the back yard, and now given him his dinner. But I still don’t want to leave.

  From the moment Marshall opened the front door this morning and nearly knocked me down with those shimmering gray eyes, I’ve felt like all the colors of the world are brighter somehow.

  He is by far the most attractive man I’ve ever seen. Dark chocolate-colored hair a bit longer on top but with razor-sharp accuracy around the edges. His broad chest balances perfectly with a height that made me feel like a toddler. His jaw was hard, square...and his lips.

  God, I can’t even with those lips.

  As soon as he opened the door, a little voice inside me started screaming, kiss me, kiss me, and it took all my power to tune it out and listen to him for the remainder of the interview. Think GQ Hugh Jackman with Dwayne Johnson’s body.

  Besides his looks, I’ve never had the scent of someone hit me so hard. It was like coming home, but oh-so-sexy. There was this direct connection to the girliest parts of me, and they’ve been on alert ever since.

  When he spoke, his voice was like velvet thunder, moving through me and finding its way deep into my marrow. I think the strangest thing about it all is that besides a crush I had on my sixth-grade math teacher, I’ve never had any of those fluttery sorts of feelings for a man or a boy.

  At eighteen, I’ve never even kissed a boy. A man, I mean. Either of them. I’ve never even held hands, which I know is crazy in this day and age, but besides having my nose in a book most of my life, I was always short. Wore thick glasses until I got surgery on my eyes three years ago as a Christmas gift from my grandparents. I was an orphan in my own way as well and became a sort of the designated outcast in my school.

  Eventually, I became more of a joke than a human when it came to my classmates, which only pushed me farther into my shell. And honestly, I didn’t mind that so much. Books take me places most people will never go.

  But my books never took me anywhere like this. Marshall’s house is beyond amazing. I don’t know how much land he owns, but there are no neighbors close enough that I can see. There is even a sandy beach out back that borders Lake Lenora, a lake so big I can’t see the other side.

  The interior is all sleek lines and warm cream and white tones, with nothing out of place. There’s a vintage Eames chair next to a stone fireplace that reaches upward to the two-story ceiling in the great room. Modern and classical art gives pops of color and classical warmth to the white walls and everywhere my eyes go there are beautiful things I never thought I would see outside of the pages of magazines or in the movies.

  I’ve wandered around as much as I dare, touching things and running my fingers along the luxurious upholstery.

  As hard as it’s been to resist, I’ve not ventured into any of the rooms down the hallways. I want to explore everything. I want to see what his bedroom looks like. How he hangs his clothes.

  What kind of underwear he wears. Wash my hair with his shampoo and my body with his soap.

  I checked out the refrigerator, the pantry and the laundry room and looked at every photo, fearing I would find one with Marshall’s arm around some leggy blonde wearing a monster rock on her left ring finger.

  But, as far as I can tell from my surface snooping, there’s no Mrs. Rogers. Can’t rule out a girlfriend, though. Or twenty.

  Doesn’t matter. No way a man like Marshall is going to give me a second look.

  I walk over to a chrome and glass desk in the living room and run my finger along a picture frame. Inside there’s a photograph of Marshall and Buddha sitting on what I think must be the dock by the lake. I let out this little sigh and wonder what it would be like to be the third in that photo.

  When I hear Buddha snoring, I know I’ve spent more than enough time here and should be going.

  But this place, it’s so peaceful. So together. Unlike my life at the moment, which is a cluster, for lack of a better term. Being here feels safe, like nothing can touch me, like any problems that exist outside of these walls and the locked gate at the entrance can’t intrude.

  My phone goes off in my pocket, reminding me that there is a world outs
ide. I pull it out and see it’s Bethany, my supervisor at the agency, and also my friend. We clicked as soon as I started working there, and she’s mentored me ever since.

  Bethany: Everything going okay? Mr. Rogers is a great client, just want to be sure everything is in order.

  Me: Everything is great. Just wrapping up. Spent a little more time just to be sure everything is perfect and the client will be happy.

  Bethany: Great. I knew you’d come through.

  Me: I’ll fill out the visit comments before I leave.

  Bethany: Good, don’t forget again. Carver has something up his ass about you and I’m afraid if you even forget to dot an ‘i’ at this point...

  Me: I know. I’ll make sure everything is perfect.

  Bethany: I bet his place is amazing.

  Me: Beyond. I could get used to this. Lol

  Bethany: lol, I’m sure. Did you find someone to come look at your electrical stuff at the house?

  I sigh and screw up my face as I read her message. Bethany knows all about the problems I’ve been having at my own place, the farm I’ve lived at with my maternal grandparents since I was an infant, after my mom and dad were killed in a helicopter accident in Vegas where they’d just eloped. Only, since my grandparents died the place is mine, and it’s in rough shape to say the least.

  Me: Yes. And no. I found someone, but it’s $60 an hour and they estimate it will be an eight- to ten-hour job to remove all the old frayed wires and put in new junction boxes, faulty outlets, blah blah blah.

  Bethany: I know this is hard, but maybe you should sell it. Get what you can...the land has to be worth something.

  Me: I can’t. I just can’t. Not yet.

  Bethany: Okay. Well, I just worry about you back there in the woods. When you have outlets that are sparking...not good.

  Me: I’ll figure it out. I still miss them so much and the place just makes me feel like they are still with me, you know?

  Bethany: Yes. I get it.