Dare to Love (Maxwell #3)

Dare to Love (Maxwell #3) by S.B. Alexander





Dedication


To all my readers, fans, and bloggers, thank you for taking this journey with me.





Prologue





Kelton Maxwell



I’m a knight in shining armor, I’m Prince Charming on a steed; I am Superman and Rocky; Hell, I’m all you’d ever need.

I’m a lover AND a fighter, even angel from above

But I won’t be your ever after, ‘cause I don’t do love.



No matter how you spin it, I’m not willing to commit.

There will be no soulful promise, only sarcasm and wit.

My family is my focus and of course, there’s getting paid.

I’m running all the bases; modeling and getting laid.



Stand in line and wait your turn, there’s lots of me to share.

Baby, you’re a booty call, I ain’t got time to care.

This lifestyle was made for me; it fits like hand in glove.

I told you when we started that I don’t do love.



I have seen my older brother fall, a victim to romance.

The girl he’s got is a keeper but I can’t take that chance.

I know that I’ll be tempted. It’s hard to beat that rap.

But every day I need a different lady on my lap.



Short and curvy, long and lean, brunette, ginger or blonde; The women keep on coming, I’ve got the magic wand.

Many chicks will try and fail, but when push comes to shove They’ll walk off broken-hearted, ‘cause I don’t do love.

Consider this a warning, in time you all will see The only way that I’d do love, is if it’s doing me!





1





Kelton





My nuts were about to freeze to my groin as I hurried across campus.

“Kelton!” Chloe Pitt’s voice carried on the breeze. “Wait up.”

I closed my eyes briefly, not wanting to deal with her. We’d broken up well over a month ago when the words I love you fell from her lips. Not only was that my cue to get the fuck out, but it sobered me up. She wanted the big house, the good-looking husband, kids, and someone to boss around. I certainly wasn’t that fucking guy.

She walked up wrapped in a parka and a thick orange scarf. February in New England can be brutal with below-zero temperatures, and today was one of those days. I guarantee that if I’d taken a piss right then it would have frozen before it hit the ground.

“I’ve been calling you. Why haven’t you picked up?” she asked, licking her lips.

Because I didn’t want to get married. “What are you doing at BU?” I asked through lips so cold they were having a tough time moving. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class at Harvard?”

“It’s Friday. I don’t have classes on Fridays.” She rolled her eyes like I was supposed to know her schedule. I could barely keep track of my own. “Are you on your way into Mr. Brewer’s art class?”

She knew my schedule. I’d bet she even knew when I took a shit. “Chloe, we’re not getting back together.” She’d been trying every possible angle, including having her cousin, Lacey, talk to me anytime she was home from college.

“You’re an ass. I need a date tonight for the art benefit my father is hosting, and you owe me.” She pulled her hood up over her blond hair as her nose started running.

“Owe you?” The only thing I owed her was a big fat no. She was definitely a sweet girl, and we had loads of fun in the sack. But she wasn’t my future.

Two people ran past us and into the warm building that was calling my name.

“That’s right. I kept you from getting killed by my bodyguard,” she reminded me in a snarky voice.

I vowed every day to stay away from women who wanted more than I could give—the women who wanted my heart in the palms of their hands, the women who wanted a life of forever. I didn’t do forever, and I wouldn’t open my heart to anyone. I’d seen how torn up my brother, Kody, was over the loss of his girlfriend and how my old man hurt when my mom fell apart after the death of my sister, Karen. The door to my heart was shut so tight that it would take someone with superpowers to pry open the lock. I bit my tongue. She wouldn’t leave me alone until she got what she wanted, and right now I didn’t have the patience to deal with her.

I glanced around. “Where is the jerk, by the way?” Chloe always had a bodyguard on her ass, compliments of her father, Jeremy Pitt, head of the Russian mob in Boston.

She shrugged. “I ditched him.”

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