Pushing Limits (Fighting Love: Book 1) Read online

  Pushing Limits

  Fighting Love: Book I

  by kali cross

  Pushing Limits, Fighting Love, Book One

  Copyright © January 2014 by kali cross

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Editor: Brittney Coon

  Cover Art: James Miller

  Published in the United States of America

  This book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locals is entirely coincidental.

  Warning

  This book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language. It is for sale to adults only and is meant for mature audiences, as defined by the laws of the country in which you have made your purchase. Please store your files properly, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  Coming Soon:

  Pushing Boundaries

  Fighting Love: Book 2

  To my inspiration for Amber: Miley Cyrus.

  Keep on being you, exploring who you are, and to anybody who doesn’t like it, fuck ‘em.

  I find your courage inspiring.

  You go, girl!!!

  Acknowledgment

  To my loving husband, thank you for your endless patience and loving support. I love you with all of my heart, forever and ever. To my sweet daughter, dare to dream, my love. Your dreams will never become reality if you never try.

  To my fellow writer and editor, Brittney Coon. I can never thank you enough for your advice, guidance, and hard work. This book is better because you had a hand in it. You have been an exceptional mentor and a good friend. Thank you for talking me off the ledge when I needed it and for your constant encouragement.

  To my dear friend and fellow writer, Beth Mikell. Thank you for your unfailing support and endless inspiration. I will always be grateful that our paths crossed.

  To my Critique Partner, Jasmine Sheffield, thank you for all your help and hard work. It was greatly appreciated.

  Special thanks to Siobhan and Dani, my Beta readers. Thank you so much!

  To Susan Marin, thank you for starting me on this wonderful journey. I wish you only love, happiness, and joy. Peace, my friend.

  - kali cross

  Contents

  Pushing Limits

  Acknowledgment

  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 1

  “Oh my God, Amber! What the hell are you doing?” My mother shrieks. Her focus zeroes in on me - my shirt open to the waist, Logan’s hand on my breast. Logan snatches his hand away, twisting his bare chest around as he pinches out the joint in his other hand. Her face turns white as she sniffs the air. Her eyes widen. “My God, have you been smoking pot in here?"

  "Fuck, Mom! Don't you ever knock?" I say, scrambling madly to fasten my bra and button my shirt. I glance over at Logan as he grabs his t-shirt, jerking it over his head. My mother’s mouth gapes open and her brown eyes dart back and forth between Logan and me.

  “Get out!” She squeezes her eyes shut, placing her hands up. “Larry...Logan...whatever your name is...Get out.” She stares at him with a lethal glare. “Get out of my house before I call the cops!”

  “I’m outta here, Chica.” Reaching for his cell phone, he shoves it in his pocket before sliding past my mother and walking down the hall.

  Gliding my foot along the floorboards, I nudge a small bag of pot under my bed. “I thought you were going out for the night, Mother,” I say dryly.

  "Classy, Amber! Really classy. My God, what were you thinking?” Her voice seethes with anger and utter disappointment.

  I hear that lovely tone all too often. It’s the sound I hear whenever I upset the delicate balance that is my mother’s life….which is often. It’s in the recriminations I hear telling me, literally, that I have, once again, fallen short of her expectations. It’s in her every comment to me that I never fucking measure up. Any involvement in my life on her part is a major inconvenience. One she usually delegates to the household staff. Oh, but the snide remarks, she saves those jewels for herself, doling them out without hesitation.

  “Oh, I don’t know….I was thinking I’m a nineteen-year-old adult, and can have whomever I want in my room. I’m so sorry, Mother,” I say, sarcasm dripping from my voice. “Did I ruin your day?”

  Her lips press into a thin line. “Don’t you get smart with me, young lady.” She grimaces, her face full of disgust. “And, frankly, considering how I found you, I use the term ‘lady’ lightly.”

  I sigh. “We were just fooling around. It’s really no big deal.” I smirk at her saying, “What? Geez, you are the very definition of uptight.” I roll my eyes and shrug, picking up my phone to scan the display. “Besides, I didn’t think you were coming home until later.” My face turns back to her as I tighten my lips and raise my chin. “It’s none of your business anyway. If you could learn to knock, this episode could have been avoided, and we could continue ignoring each other.”

  “This is my house.” Her voice is coarse and her eyes narrow. “Don’t forget it.” Her eyes widen as she searches my face. “Oh my God, so help me if you are pregnant....Oh, my God what will people say?” Her face pales as her hand covers her mouth, and her eyes dart back and forth. “If the media finds out, I’ll never recover. My God, do I need to get a Plan B pill for you? How could you do this to me? I’ll never live it down if you are pregnant."

  I curl my lips into a sadistic smirk, as I watch her have a complete meltdown.

  “I didn’t screw him. We were just fooling around. My God, could you be more repressed? I’ve been on the pill since I was fifteen. Remember?” I tilt my head with a sneer. “Oh, yeah, you probably don’t remember since you had Elise take me to the gynecologist.” I pretend to check my phone again. “Get a grip.”

  “Just fooling around?” She says, her eyes bugging out of her face. “Are you kidding me? You looked well on your way to doing a lot more. Exactly how many men have you slept with, Amber?” Holding her hand up, glancing away, she says, “Wait, wait….I don’t want to know. Spare me the details.” Her eyes are frantic, filled with worry. “Does he know who you are?”

  “Relax mother, he doesn’t know I’m the deputy mayor’s daughter. He doesn’t even know who you are. He knows me through Angela.”

  “Angela? I should have known,” she says, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “This is the last thing I need….Damn it!” Every problem always becomes all about her, her stupid career, and how she needs to spin it. My mom…the original drama queen. She starts to pace as she rubs her forehead. Her high heeled pumps clicking on the hard wood floor as she passes back and forth, pacing in front of me.

  Stop
ping abruptly, her face freezes in shock. She blusters, “Oh my God, did he have his cell out? Please tell me he didn’t film you. We don’t need a sex tape out there. My God, tell me he didn’t take a shot of you while…while you…were naked. All I need is some YouTube video of my daughter…” She sits down on the bed, her face turning a light green as she stares at me, her brown eyes burning in anticipation of my answer.

  “No.” My voice filled with contempt. Dear God, how am I related to this woman?

  I can practically see the wheels turning in my mother’s shrewd mind as she calculates her next move. A calm and resolute look passes over her. It still amazes me how she deals with a crisis, crazy lunatic one minute, calm and authoritative the next.

  Her face hardens into cold stone as her voice takes on a chilling quality. "This kind of behavior…it’s simply not done. I know you are an adult, and I certainly didn’t think you would be a virgin on your wedding day….but what is with all this promiscuous behavior?” Her mouth curves into a frown. “I refuse to tolerate this behavior any longer. First it was that Angela situation, and now this. I don’t know wh-”

  “-A-Angela situation? Now she’s a situation? She wasn’t a ‘situation,’ Mother, she was a person. A beautiful, talented, wonderful person and I loved her. She was my world.” I frown, shaking my head. I cross my arms over my chest as my eyes heat to a flame. “How dare you talk about her like she was a piece of gum stuck to your shoe. You don’t get to talk about her that way. My God! You are such a bitch!”

  The sharp sound of my mother’s slap hangs in the air, leaving only a harsh sting and heated handprint in its wake.

  As she straightens her back, she peers down her nose at me with a bitter glare. She presses her hands down her suit as her hands move smoothly down the tailored lines. “I have had it, Amber,” she says. No shouting. No anger. Only cold determination flashes across her face.

  Going to my closet, she pulls out my suitcase, tossing it on the bed. “Your aunt has been looking into colleges for you, out of state of course. Thanks to your little performance tonight, I’m forced to move the timetable up. Start packing. You’re going to college in Texas.”

  “Texas? What? I have friends here…I am not going to another school.” My eyes widen.

  “Yes you are.” Her face fills with cold contempt, sending a quiet chill up my spine. “You’re leaving in the morning. Aunt Patty will be your custodian while you finish college. You can be her problem now...I am done.” She snaps, “DONE.”

  I begin pulling my clothes off hangers, shoving them into the cases. “You want me to leave. Fine. I’ll leave….I can start taking money from my trust on my twenty-first birthday. I’ll find a way to make it until then.”

  Her mouth curves into a cold smile as her sweet smelling perfume permeates my nostrils, turning my stomach. “On what? Your credit cards? I don’t think so.” She scoffs, “And, you can forget about your trust fund. Your grandmother set up that trust fund for you and named me as the sole trustee. You won’t get one red cent until I say so.”

  “You can’t do that,” I whisper.

  Pointing a long manicured finger at me, she says, “You are not staying in Chicago. You may be nineteen years-old, but you are still a member of this family. I have had it. If you walk out the door, you’ll get nothing from us. No trust fund, no credit cards, nothing. You’ll be penniless with a high school diploma. How far do you think you’ll get with that? Nowadays, you won’t even be able to get a job at McDonalds.” She stands straight, her long arms crossing over her chest, her mouth contorts into an ugly grimace.

  My mouth slacks open. I can’t believe this. I raise my brows and sneer at her. “You wouldn’t do that. What would people say if you threw me out on the street?”

  “Oh, honey. That I could sell….A promiscuous girl, drugs, disrespectful….I did everything I could.” She wipes away a fake tear and smirks at me with a snort as my stomach turns. “Don’t push me.”

  With a strange detachment, she studies me. “You’ve changed over the last few years. I don’t know who you are anymore. I mean, really? Not one, but two colleges in a year...how you managed to flunk out twice is unimaginable,” she says with utter disdain. “Your grandmother would be appalled.”

  She looks at her manicure, her voice cold. “When you asked to come home and attend school here, we welcomed you home.” She shakes her head in disgust. “How did you repay us…an incident that almost cost me the election? You thought you knew how to handle any situation, didn’t you? All grown up, I’m an adult now. You don’t choose my friends, run my life. Isn’t that what you said? Who did you run to when things got rough? Me. I had to clean up your mess. Did you ever think for a moment about me or the repercussions to the family?” Her eyes glint as she glares at me.

  Straightening, she pulls herself up to her full statuesque height, demanding, “Get your things packed. I’m going to call your aunt.” Jerking open the door, she stomps down the hall as she slides her iPhone from her black Prada suit and dials my aunt.

  The tears sting my eyes and trickle down my cheeks. Staring at the door, devoid of any hope, it hits me. I am so fucked.

  She’s right. I don’t have anywhere to go. I have no money of my own. All I have is a high school diploma. Who would hire me? Even if I could get a job, where would I live? I don’t have anyone I can stay with. Logan would probably let me stay a few days with his family, but I couldn’t live there. He shares a room with his two brothers, and his parents wouldn’t appreciate another mouth to feed. I have a few friends from school but they’re all in college.

  Grabbing my toothbrush and makeup from the bathroom, I notice my face in the mirror. Tears stain my checks, my mascara streaking down my face. I wipe the tears away. Running my hands through my short pale pink hair, my face filled with sadness, frustration…desperation. As I wash my face, my hands gliding over my soft skin, I wonder if she ever really wanted me.

  Why the hell did she have me in the first place? She acts like she hates me, like I’m a constant disappointment. Was I merely the predicated next step to the life she craved?

  Nothing more than another item on her checklist: Wealthy family – check, Ivy League education – check, old money husband – check. A child must have been the next logical step to her ultimate goal – running for political office. I am simply part of the pretty picture she painted for the world to see. The perfect family. My mother lives and breathes that shit. Money, social standing, power…those are the important things.

  All I ever wanted from her was love. When I was old enough, at the decidedly mature age of six, I was sent off to boarding school. The parents would arrive to pick up their kids from school, anticipation and happiness filled the air. All my friends would rush into their mother’s arms, smiling and excited. Warm hugs and kisses. I would rush to her, too. I was always greeted with a quick embrace and a curt hello. That is, if she came at all. Most of the time, she sent our housekeeper, Elise.

  When I came home, sometimes I wouldn’t see her for days. I would ask Elise where my mommy was, and she would tell me some story about how my mother had to be away for this or that. I got used to being alone. I had Elise and Arthur but it wasn’t the same. I wanted her. I was forced to be independent early on. All she wanted to hear about were successes, that is, when I actually saw her.

  The maternal gene is clearly missing in my mother. My entire childhood was spent with nannies. Only trotting me out every now and again for holiday parties and special events, my sole purpose was to stand in as the dutiful daughter.

  I used to crave a relationship with my mother, to feel that special connection between a mother and a daughter, to know she loved me. Hell, I would’ve settled for liking me. I wanted to be just like her…be near her. Make her “see” me, really “see” me. I made myself into a carbon copy of her, thinking surely, that would make her happy. I tried everything to get her attention. I focused on being the poster child of perfection…I made good grades, dressed like she wa
nted; hung out with the people she wanted, never caused a problem.

  When I asked to come home, I was shocked they allowed it…but hopeful...it had been so long since we were actually all together for any time longer than a holiday break. I had convinced myself that my mother just wasn’t suited to children. Now that I was older, more mature, we could finally be close. I was certain that once we were together, she would want to spend time with me. Turns out, the only reason she let me come home was because she was running for office, and she needed me for the dog and pony show.

  Life with my mom wouldn’t have been so bad if I had my Dad, but I never saw much of him when I was home on breaks. Sure, he showed up for family events and the parties, but that was it. He always seemed so confused about how to deal with me. He wasn’t comfortable with any displays of affection; he made sure I learned that early on.

  Dad cowered around her. And since I moved home, he’s never really been around, and when he is, he’s distracted and disinterested. Any fight between us settled with a mere “Listen to your mother” comment over his computer.

  My father was an absentee Dad sitting in the same room.

  My heart tears open, thinking about Angela. I miss her so much. I’ll never forget that first time I met her. My mother has no idea that I met Angela working on her campaign. I probably never would have crossed paths with her if it hadn’t been for my mom. My mother’s worst nightmare materialized from her own dream.

  Angela was sweet and kind, but she didn’t take my shit either. I tried to give her the business because my mom was the candidate. I was so shy around her, but I did my best candidate daughter’s with an attitude - all sarcasm and lip, trying to boss her around. She called me on my shit right out of the gate. She laughed her ass off at my dumbass attitude.

  She was so much fun to hang out with and totally sexy. I was so pathetic trying to flirt with her back then. Luckily, she thought it was cute. I dated in school, but not a lot. So even though I was eighteen, I was all kinds of stupid and awkward. But, she saw me for the person I was inside. The good and the bad...and she loved me. She didn’t give a shit if I had money or not. She loved me for me, not what I had or what she thought I could give her. She gave me a glimmer of hope that I was lovable, that I was worth something…and then she was gone.