I almost ruined his reputation because of a printed lie. Yet, he saved my life.
I was wounded and vengeful, from a past that jaded my present and future. Soul vowed to protect and heal me, despite how much damage I’d inflicted on him.
He was my mirror and I was his reflection. He knew me, accepted my demons as his, and loved me unconditionally.
He was my everything.
He was My Soul.
Bestselling and USA Today featured authorVera Roberts’s Ellison Brothers series continues with Her Soul, a sexy venture into the fashion industry, the #metoo movement and finding love in unexpected places.
He was not just a person; Soul was a vibe, a mood, a lifestyle. He was everything and more. I became an addict to him in the worst way. I began to become so wrapped into him, I didn’t know what I even liked any more.
This man had swagger by the bucket loads and nothing was ever too much for him. It was never too much food. It was never too many gifts. It was never too clean. It was never too messy. It was never too much love. It was never too much sex.
Except me. I was too much for him.
He brought me pain and pleasure, and turned my world onto its axis and left an indefinable mark. So naturally, I ran. I ran as far as I could. I’d been burned before and Soul witnessed it. I couldn’t let him finish it.
I hear a knock at my door and stupidly answer it. As I stand within the door jamb of my living room apartment, the energy and love from the man who I betrayed not once, but twice, hits me like a Mack truck. There’s anger swirling in his eyes and his lips are pursed together.
My heart lurches forward and my breath is caught in my throat. I swallow the bile that threatens to come out, though my body is so perfectly attune to his with a yearning only he could bring out.
Soul is stunningly gorgeous with dark hair and light eyes that alternate between light blue and grey. All of the Ellison brothers are easy on the eyes, but Soul had a swag that was cultivated by the streets. He didn’t try to pretend he was rich, because he was wealthy. He didn’t act like a billionaire, though he was certified.
He was the prime bad boy combination that made my knees weak and my panties wet – a man who was street smart but also had the mindset of a Wall Street investor. He would be comfortable watching the Knicks just like he would be at an opera, though we both knew he would’ve preferred being at courtside.
He smells absolutely wonderful, like musk and a little bit of wealth he occasionally flashes. He’s wearing a business casual black suit with a white open collar shirt. His hand tattoos are clearly visible though his sleeves are fully covered.
No dress shoes. No matter where he goes, Soul is always in his sneakers. He once said he would wear sneakers on our wedding day and I wasn’t even mad at that. I would’ve been upset if he didn’t.
Thoughts of Jordan almonds and frilly dresses escape me as I stare at my ex. A lot has changed within the two years since our breakup. He’d grown more successful and well, I’m just scraping to get by at times.
I don’t talk about him ever. Not online, not to friends, and not even to anyone who knew we were together. The past was just that.
So I thought.
He’s beyond pissed at me and I can’t blame him. He introduced me to his world and I still left. There was no room for me there and we both knew it. It wasn’t smart to waste anyone’s time when we both knew what the end result was going to be.
I fold my arms and lean against the door jamb. He won’t intimidate me with his wealth or presence. Not before. Not again. I say that to myself, though my body is responding quite differently. “Soul…” His name escapes my lips.
He holds out his hand and I look down at it. Just like I remembered, it was warm and full of life. Not a single callous on those strong hands that once caressed every crevice of my body. “I’m here to take you back home.”
I let out the sigh I didn’t know I held. My tongue briefly wets my dry lips and my shoulders relax. This man had a strangulation hold on me and I know that’s not good. I also know I don’t want him to ever let me go.
He closes the distance between us and sweeps his lips over mine. He kisses me with a possession that silently declares who I belong to and why I will never seek any other. His mouth is hungry for mine; his tongue is playfully and full of desire.
I whimper against his mouth and sigh into it. He answers me with a welcome groan and his hands that were respectful and still at his body, now explore all of me. My nipples tighten and my sex softly thuds against the small dampness in my panties.
I welcome his love back again, though it had never left. It will never leave. “Where’s home?” I breathlessly ask.
Soul cups my face within his hands and touches his forehead against mine. I feel his heart pound against his chest, though his breathing is calm and collected like nothing major just happened. I melt into his body, and feel the warmth encompassing both of us.
He finally speaks and says the only thing that matters: “Harlem.”
Her Soul will be out this week.
Be sure to pick up the Ellison Brothers 1-4, available now!