Undo Me (Secret Baby Second Chance Romance) (DOM for Hire Book 2) Read online

  Undo Me

  DOM for Hire

  Hazel Parker

  Copyright 2021 by Hazel Parker - All rights reserved.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher.

  All rights reserved.

  Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1: Kelly

  Chapter 1: Liam

  Chapter 3: Kelly

  Chapter 4: Liam

  Chapter 5: Kelly

  Chapter 6: Liam

  Chapter 7: Kelly

  Chapter 8: Liam

  Chapter 9: Kelly

  Chapter 10: Liam

  Chapter 11: Kelly

  Chapter 12: Liam

  Chapter 13: Kelly

  Chapter 14: Liam

  Chapter 15: Kelly

  Chapter 16: Liam

  Chapter 17: Kelly

  Chapter 18: Liam

  Chapter 19: Kelly

  Chapter 20: Liam

  Chapter 21: Kelly

  Chapter 22: Liam

  Chapter 23: Kelly

  Chapter 24: Liam

  Chapter 25: Kelly

  Epilogue

  NEXT BOOK IN SERIES

  Chapter 1: Kelly

  Two Years Earlier

  Everyone has their demons. I am no exception to this fact.

  But my demons weren’t outside of me. My demons didn’t take the form of a bottle of Grey Goose, a line of cocaine, or a man I cheated with. My demon—just one, but large enough to make my life truly hell—was the hatred I had for my body.

  I looked healthy. I ate well and I went to the gym. But my body failed me, and for that, I hated it.

  My whole life, I wanted kids. Everything was lined up in perfect order. I had a dream job, a man that my girlfriends oozed envy over, and a future that looked like it would make all my dreams come true. Even in the first six months, when we couldn’t get pregnant, we just chalked it up to bad luck, that it would feel better once it finally happened.

  But it never did.

  Six months turned into one year. One year turned into two. Two years turned into three. And three turned into a divorce. It wasn’t my husband’s fault my body couldn’t give me what I wanted, and let’s be honest, it wasn’t mine either. If our marriage had been stronger we could have made it. It started out rocky and sank from there. My barren womb was just the icing on the cake.

  Once we decided to divorce—and well before that legally took effect—I packed my bags and moved out west to the middle of Bumfuck, Colorado. I suppose some well-traversed locals in Denver would have heard of the town, Breckenridge, but no one outside the state had fucking heard of it. And that’s exactly how I wanted it—situated just between Vail and Denver, a spot some might visit but none would stay at.

  And once I moved here, I fell into a dark crevice I’d never been to before. Was it fucking scary? Damn right. I hadn’t been able to figure my shit out, and it wasn’t like Breckenridge was the New York City of the Rocky Mountains. The men were rugged and occasionally handsome, but it would be a bald-faced lie to say any of them lived up to my standards.

  The only good thing I could say was that my parents left me their property in this small town. It was a large property my grandfather bought during the mining boom—at the time, worth nothing, now worth millions. So, yay, my finances were in order.

  But as I sat at a ski bar lodge, drinking as the sun set at too goddamn early of an hour, I couldn’t help but understand why people say money can’t buy you happiness.

  At least it can fucking numb you.

  “You sure you want another one?” the bartender, a concerned woman in her early fifties, said. Lisa. I think her name is Lisa.

  “Yeah, I’ll take one,” I said. “I can always just get a hotel room. Thanks, Lisa.”

  “It’s Laura, but you got it,” she said, smiling.

  I hated that fucking smile. She wasn’t angry, nor was she condescending. She was sympathetic. How had my life fallen so fucking far to feel like this?

  I heard someone sit down a couple of chairs over from me, but I didn’t turn to face them. Right now, my eyes were locked on the dry martini Lisa—Laura—was making. The alcohol practically whispered to me. Take me, and you will feel better.

  Or, at least, I wouldn’t feel anything.

  “Rough day, huh?”

  Goddamnit, really didn’t want to talk to strangers today.

  Begrudgingly, I turned my head to the man who had sat down near me. At least he had a nice voice—a little on the rough side, like he’d gone through some shit of his own.

  Boy, though, when my eyes laid on him, he had the face to match that sexy voice.

  He looked young but wise, like a man in his early thirties who had healthy habits but had also gone through some shit in his life. He had well-groomed black hair, haunting green eyes, and that sort of stubble that perfectly balanced “naturally gritty” and “well-groomed.”

  Unfortunately for him, while he may have been one of the most handsome men I’d seen in some time, it wasn’t like I was on the prowl. I was more akin to a retired hunter.

  “You could say that again,” I said.

  “Rough day, huh?” he said, smirking. “You did say I could say that.”

  I chuckled. It was kind of funny. I would have said it was also stupid, but for how gruffly he spoke the words, I found it difficult to find anything he said dumb.

  “What about you?” I said, nodding to him.

  “I’m just here to get away from it all for a spell,” he said.

  Boy, doesn’t that sound familiar.

  “What is ‘it all?’”

  He paused for a second as he put his order in, a dry Manhattan. It was a bit of an upscale drink for the type of customer that normally walked in here—perhaps this wasn’t some local. Perhaps he was telling the truth, that he had come here to get away from something or other.

  “Work,” he finally said before sipping on his drink.

  “Which is?”

  He shrugged.

  “Some P.I. stuff, nothing too crazy.”

  P.I.? Like private investigation?

  “But in any case, I like to think of Colorado as my home,” he said. “I like the anonymity of this town. Really, I like it in general, but it’s harder to get away when you’re in the middle of someplace bigger.”

  This guy definitely wasn’t your typical mountain man. Now he had my full attention.

  “You know, for a P.I., you’re not especially private about revealing you’ve been to a lot of places.”

  “No?”

  “You just said that ‘you’re in the middle of someplace bigger.’ So you’re not from here.”

  The man just shrugged. Even that act alone showed me that he had well-defined shoulders, a lean look to him that, in conjunction with his sharp jaw and narrow face, told me he kept himself in great shape.

  “Did I not say I think of it as my home?”

  “That’s different than it being your actual home.”

  He just took a sip of his drink. I waited for him to say something else, but he just silently stared at me, as if daring me to say something more. If we were kids, I would have said it was a game of who could stare without blinking the longest.

  As an adult, it was intoxicating and arousing being placed under such a spell.

  “I, I be
t you’ve been all over,” I finally said. “Chicago, New York, Los Angeles. Some others, I bet.”

  “Sure.”

  The man’s coyness and vague attitude was unearthing a part of me that had honestly remained hidden for quite some time—the spunky, flirtatious side. Life had beaten me down a bit much for me to call myself “outgoing” or “cheerful,” but once upon a time, I was that girl at the bar putting hands on everyone’s arm, giggling at everything, and hugging friends of friends who had had a shit day.

  I’d thought that side of me was dead and buried, and make no mistake, it was still stuffed into the ground. But this man was starting to make it stir some.

  “I’m Kelly, by the way,” I said, extending my hand.

  “Nice to meet you, Kelly,” the man said, taking it in his.

  It was rough, yes, but somehow it wasn’t as calloused or grounded down as I had thought. I guess in one sense, it affirmed the idea that this was not a man from the area, or at least someone who had only moved here recently. But it wasn’t the overly smooth hand of someone who had an office job, someone who worked 9-5 and used his fingers more for typing than for tearing down trees.

  “You’ve got very nice eyes, you know,” the man said. “Amongst many other things.”

  Oh, damn. It was painful to realize I hadn’t been hit on in some time by a good guy—having a dour attitude and retreating to the rural crevices of the Rockies would do that to you—but it was pleasant to be back in that world.

  “Why thank you,” I said. “And you’re very handsome yourself.”

  The man smiled. And that was when it occurred to me.

  I didn’t even know a damn bit about this man. He was, surely, evaluating me just as I was evaluating him. He probably already saw me as the hot mess I saw myself as, which was fair.

  But damnit, I at least wanted to know this man’s name. That seemed fair, right?

  “And what’s your name?”

  He paused for a second, nodded, and smiled. It was just long enough for me to notice, but with the alcohol running through my body, I didn’t care. This was one of the first times in a long, long stretch in which I actually felt like someone I was attracted to was paying attention to me. I wasn’t going to get caught up in little details like that.

  “Trent.”

  Chapter 1: Liam

  Trent?

  Of all fucking names, you pick Trent? Not John or Mike or Adam?

  It didn’t fucking matter, though. This woman was looking at me like I’d just walked off the cover of Outdoors Magazine. And it wasn’t like I was planning on dating her, let alone marrying her. She was going to be a way for me to blow off some steam in the most win-win way possible.

  “Trent,” she said as if she’d just had the greatest taste of her life. “I’ve never met a Trent before.”

  “Yeah, that’s kind of by design,” I said. “So what’s your story, Kelly?”

  “Hah, you don’t want to know my story, but not because I’m awesome like you,” she said.

  The thought honestly crossed my mind to just say, “fuck it, let’s fuck.” I’d just finished a hell of a week of business, and the last thing I wanted to do was to play therapist before I played bedroom dom. Not only had the week been hell physically, but I’d also had some interesting revelations into, well, let’s just call it “office drama” for simplicity’s sake.

  But there was a difference between dom and dumb. And that line was still thick and unbreakable for the moment.

  “No, no, I’m just a divorced, single woman, just passing the days in Breckenridge.”

  “You could pick worse places to do them in,” I said. “Believe me, I’d know.”

  She laughed and put a hand on my arm. OK, maybe that thick line was thinning by the second. Maybe I could take a pair of scissors and cut that line with a witty remark.

  “Very true! Although compared to Florida, this place probably isn’t great.”

  OK, so Kelly was a hot mess. For most guys looking for someone sane, this was probably the spot where they’d excuse themselves or drop the conversation and walk away.

  But what Kelly did not know, and what I did not like to correct in myself, was how rough my shit had been. I had gone through some dark nights in my life too. It was probably for the best that I did not wind up with someone good—they wouldn’t have deserved someone like me.

  And I meant that in every sense of the phrase possible.

  “But hey, you don’t get mountain men in Florida!”

  I smirked and indulged her. We carried on conversation for another twenty minutes. The answer, as was affirmed many times by her hand touching my arm—and at one point, even my thigh—was that yes, I had won over this woman. Granted, I’d only won her for tonight, and maybe she was just flirting for the sake of flirting.

  But when women met men like me, “maybe” had a way of turning into begging awfully quickly. I didn’t need to try and persuade her of anything, because one, I would never try to persuade anyone to fuck me, and two, even if she insisted on me courting her, I’d get bored and move on quickly. As a dom, I didn’t have time for games like that.

  “You know what,” I eventually said when her hand fell to my thigh a second time. “We’re just playing games here to feel each other out, but I know exactly what you want. So listen to me and do as I say. Follow me out. We’re going to the nearest hotel room. And I am going to rock your fucking world like you have never had it rocked.”

  I could see Kelly trying so hard not to smile, but she was failing miserably. It was like she wanted to do this, but she somehow felt, I don’t know, like a whore if she did? She clearly wanted to do this.

  “I mean, do we really—”

  “Yes,” I said, reaching into my wallet, throwing a hundred to the bartender—I’d have a lot more cash coming my way after the recent job I’d done for my agency—and taking Kelly by the hand. “We really want to.”

  “Well, I do, if I’m honest, you’re very hot, but, ohhh.”

  I let my hand fall on her back before squeezing her ass. Like I said, as a dom, once I knew the window of opportunity was there, I dove through that fucking window.

  “Damn, where have men like you been in my life?”

  “Off to warmer places, for the most part,” I said, a truer statement than she realized. “Come on.”

  “Not to your place?” she said. “Bit of a hike for me to mine, but I bet you’ve got a great place.”

  I had to laugh at that. There was no chance in hell I was letting a complete stranger, no matter how fucking great she’d look in bed, see where I lived.

  “Nice try, babe, but we’ve got plenty of options in the area here,” I said. “And unlike me, they’ll have made their beds. So you can thank me when you’re clinging to something as you feel an orgasm rising in you.”

  I think Kelly would have jumped me right there if not for the fact that we were surrounded by snow.

  Since money wasn’t an issue—or, better said, the desire for fucking overrode any possible obstacle in the way—we walked through the snow to the nearest motel, got us a room, and hurried over there.

  As soon as I shut the door, Kelly came up to me and kissed me.

  And I shoved her away, on to the bed.

  “Oh, feisty one, huh?”

  “Shut it,” I snapped. “You’re going to do things exactly how I want. You will obey my every command. And you will like it.”

  The last one wasn’t so much an order as it was a prediction, but it was funny how saying it out loud usually led to the woman following it like a command. The narrowing eyes and blushing cheeks on Kelly said as much anyways. This was not going to be atypical, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t going to be fucking fun.

  I came over to her, grabbed her shirt, and lifted it off.

  “Stand up and turn around.”

  She did as commanded like the good little girl that she was. She may have looked like a woman in her mid-thirties, but that didn’t matter to me. When I g
ot into this thrill phase, when I became a DOM in the bedroom, everyone I fucked became a good little girl.

  I unclasped her bra, squeezing her breasts while I pressed my hips into her ass. She moaned softly, and I only encouraged it more by biting into her neck. I loved how her breasts felt; they were going to feel even better squished against my body with my cock inside of her.

  I moved my hands from her breasts and to her jeans. I unbuckled her belt, undid her pants button, and then shoved them down. Just like that, this woman was naked before me—and damn if she didn’t look every bit the part of Colorado native, as fit and curvy as anyone I had ever seen. Even if I wasn’t dominant by nature, a sight this sexy would have pushed me there real fucking fast.

  “What a fucking sight,” I said, punctuating my words with a hard slap of her ass.

  She let out an excited yip. I did it again.

  “Oh, yes,” she said.

  “You fucking like that, don’t you?”

  Again, it was more of an observation than an order. But it worked all the same.

  “Can’t say I’ve been spanked before,” she said. “But can’t say I don’t like it.”

  “You think that’s good, wait till we get to the rest,” I said. “Lie on the bed. On your back. Spread your legs for me.”

  She did so enthusiastically. She kept looking at the bulge in my pants as if she wanted to get up and make a move. Truth be told, there was some excitement in that part. What got me off the most wasn’t anything physical, like handcuffs or blindfolds. It wasn’t anything role-playing.

  Rather, it was when a woman fought back against me. Being a DOM against a naturally submissive person, while still enjoyable, didn’t carry the same excitement as a woman who thought she could do something about me. It elevated my DOM side to an even higher level, making me lose myself in the moment.

  And wouldn’t you know it, the woman sat up and yanked for my pants belt.

  “What did I tell you?” I said, putting my hand on her shoulder and pushing her back to the bed. “You will do as I say at the pace I want.”