Overview: Will they make their own history… together?
Micah Taylor fought hard for his country and came home with the scars to prove it. He loved faithfully, but his wife defected to a more interesting man, leaving even deeper wounds. Unresolved guilt colors his thoughts and not even capturing the world with his camera calms his restlessness.
After dumping a man who expected her to pay his bills, Dilyn Cordova set out alone on what was supposed to be an inspirational, history-filled adventure. As the end of her vacation nears, she’s become disenchanted with her lonely travels.
A chance meeting with a sexy biker turns into a night of passion hotter than the summer sun. Even though there’s danger in falling for a man with a carefree spirit, she agrees to spend the next weekend with Micah. She’ll keep her heart safe from repeating her past mistakes.
Micah doesn’t understand the sadness in Dilyn’s eyes when he mentions the future. He’s always fought hard for what he wants, and he wants her. Now and forever.
Will pride, insecurities, and suspicions keep them from creating their own history--together?
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| Makin' History by LizAnne Axtel (Heart of a Wounded Hero) Book |
Makin' History by LizAnne Axtel (Heart of a Wounded Hero) Book Read Online Chapter One
Micah
“Fuck this.” I toss a trade-size paperback across the room. My friend ducks just before it hits the wall with a satisfying smack.
“Shit, Mic. Chill. It’s just a book.”
“My sweet sister’s idea of help.” Propping my prosthetic leg on my knee, I slouch into my overstuffed chair.
Brody scoops up the book, stares at the cover, and laughs. “A sex book? ‘Bout time.”
“You, too?” I hunch further into the soft, worn leather and glare at him as he flips through the pages.
“Huh? No pictures? What good is that?”
I huff out a sarcastic breath. “Not a manual, dickhead. It’s what she calls an erotic romance. One of her friends wrote it. Said it’ll give me ideas.”
Brody’s laughter is the last thing I need. From him or my sister.
He closes the paperback, studies the cover, then tosses it to the floor. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
I wish I was. “And when she insisted I read the stupid thing, I promised I would. I’m a fucking idiot.”
“So? Just tell her you did and forget about it. Break the spine.”
Closing my eyes, I ask the universe for calm. No book should be treated that way. No cracked spine. No dogeared pages. That smooth, unbroken spine makes me feel like I’m experiencing the tale for the first time. Doesn’t matter if I’ve read the story a dozen times. I love that feeling, always the first time.
I stare at the ceiling. And Brody barely knows what a novel is. He’d read a comic occasionally during our tour of duty. He likes anime. When it has sex in it. “You know, man. That’s not even the first one she’s shoved at me.”
Reaching again for the book, he studies the nude torsos filling the cover. He tilts it one way, then another before dropping it again and shrugging. “So,” he drawls. “Give you any ideas?”
I’m sure as hell not going there. Not even with my best friend, the man who saved my life after the explosion. Definitely not with someone who shares every frequent conquest in graphic detail without considering the celibate state of his audience. And those damn books…
“Mic? Any pointers?”
“Read the damn thing.”
“Nah, too much work. Doubt there’d be anything I haven’t already thought of. What’s got you so wound up?”
Rolling my shoulders does nothing to ease the tension settling there. He’ll push until I cave and say something so might as well get it over with. “These stories—unbelievable. Every guy has a huge dick. The women, even when they’re…” I make finger quotes. “…curvy, are tiny next to the guy. But always wet and ready to take it all.”
Brody nods. “Sounds about right to me. What’s wrong with that?”
“Not normal, dickhead. Not every guy has a humongous cock.”
“We don’t?” Brody puffs out his chest and glances at his crotch. Arching his eyebrows, he smirks. “Speak for yourself.”
“Get serious.”
He tries. I’ll give him that. But his knowing smirk returns. “How much time did we spend with the guys in our unit? Can’t tell me there wasn’t comparison going on. Don’t give me your normal guy spiel. There ain’t no such thing.” He pauses then waggles his eyebrows. “Let’s head down to The Panther’s Back. It’s amateur strip night. Or that new bar down on Third. Always a delectable bevy of single ladies there lookin’ for love. Man, last night… I can’t say enough about last night.”
For an hour before the game started Brody talked non-stop about babes and boobs. Then to shut him up, I’d tried to read that stupid book. God. No wonder I’m so frustrated. But not enough to settle for a pity or curiosity fuck. Hell, I’m only missing the lower third of one leg. Everything else works just fine.
Planting both feet firmly on the hardwood floor, I stand. “Nope. Gonna go for a ride. Finish the game and lock up when you leave.”
Brody leans forward with his elbows on his knees and snorts. “You need help, dude. Get over Rose already. Let the bitch go. I’ll fix ya up. I know a couple of women who’d be perfect for you. Any woman’d be better than that crotch rocket.”
The hair on the back of my neck bristles. Tease about sex all he wants but he knows better than to diss my ride. I don’t try to restrain my rising anger and speak through clenched teeth. “The Indian is not a crotch rocket.”
Brody’s sputtered apology follows me as I grab my riding gear and padded camera case. Might as well get some work done so the day’s not a total waste.
The door slams behind me with a satisfying whack, then I draw calming breaths and stride to my turquoise and white vintage Indian Chief. By the time I pack the camera into my saddlebags and fit my prosthetic foot into the adaptive pedal, my anger is under control. One rule. I never ride angry.
The flow of air, the old highway singing under my wheels and the play of shadows and light as the clouds skittered over the sun make me grin but doesn’t calm my thoughts. Damn Brody for bringing up Rose.
Two years. I’d married my college sweetheart shortly before being deployed. She said she’d be fine living at the ranch. I’d adored her and tried to make her adjustment from city to country life as easy as possible. I shouldn’t have wasted my time.
When she told me during a video call that a friend had asked her along on a trip to Vegas, I knew my being gone was hard on her. Hell, I was halfway around the world, and she deserved some fun.
But one trip turned into many. When the explosion sent my entire squad stateside for rehab, I’d learned she’d fallen in love with some guy there. By the time I transferred to the local veteran’s hospital, she was already out the door with a fresh divorce in her claws. In hindsight it shouldn’t have surprised me.
I swerve to avoid a smear of roadkill. At the time I’d felt just as flattened and dead. One more thing I had to add to my therapist’s list.
Stretching to the horizon, the long, flat road calls to me. I lean forward and accelerate to ninety, the wind whipping away the memories. I’m over her and I can almost—almost—wish her well.
After three miles I slow. I’ve tried dating a couple times, but it was like I was only going through the motions. When I caught one of those women researching my net worth, I did the leaving. There’s not much trust left in me for the female sex.
Fuck it. Brody’s right. I just need to get laid. Nothing but hot, hard sex. Getting off with a woman instead of my hand would be a temporary pleasure, not a solution. Ultimately, I’m not interested in Brody’s different girl every night lifestyle. I want what I thought I had. Something out of my reach. Something impossible. I need… more.
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