More Than This: A More Novella

M
ore Than This
© TT Kove

www.ttkove.com
|
www.more.ttkove.com

P
ublished
by Arctic Circle Press

www.arcticcirclepress.com

E
dited
by Tami Veldura

Cover designed by Tina T. Kove

A
ll rights reserved
. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission, except for in the purpose of reviews.

This book is a work of fiction and as such all characters and situations are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual people, place, or events is coincidental.

M
ore Than This
is set in Norway, and as such uses British English throughout.

F
irst edition August 2016
.

Copyright © 2016 by TT Kove

M
ore Than Words

No Right Words

Louder Than Words

More Than Anything

Anything For Him

Anything For You

More Than Enough

More Than This

More Than Friends

T
his book is
a little out of the ordinary for me. I’m an author of m/m romance after all, but this one’s a love story between a man and a woman! I know, what has the world come to?

Anyway, Maria spoke to me. She wanted her story told.

And I wanted to tell it. It was such a joy to write, too! It flowed effortlessly, it turned longer than planned. It came in at 40,000 words, when I’d initially planned for it to stay a short at 15,000-20,000 words.

So even if this one isn’t a gay romance, I hope my readers will give it a shot. For those of you who have read other books in the series (particularly More Than Words and More Than Enough) will recognise Maria as Andreas’s little sister and Thomas’s niece.

It was a pleasure to write her story—and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it.

W
hen Maria wakes
up naked in bed with no recollection of what’s happened, she fears the worst—and she doesn’t plan on sticking around to have it confirmed. But running off only clothed in a short, tight dress in the middle of winter isn’t the best idea.

Rescue comes in the form of Roar, who’s out and about at night because he can’t go home. He takes pity on the girl who sits huddled on a bench, and he takes her home. He also vows to look out for her from now on—and find out who hurt her.

As rumours start up in school, and Maria struggles with not knowing what happened that night, there’s only one person she finds herself drawn to… the school’s bad boy, Roar.

I
didn’t know
what woke me, but I blinked my eyes open with a feeling that something wasn’t right.

And it wasn’t.

Because this wasn’t my bedroom.

This room was completely foreign to me.

I froze as there were movements behind me.

Oh no
.

I chanced a quick glance over my shoulder and found a bloke lying next to me, sound asleep. He had his head turned away, but his shoulders and chest were bare.

Slowly, dreading what I’d see, I looked down at myself.

The duvet covered me, but as I lifted it a tiny bit to check, I found I had on nothing at all.

Oh no, no, no
.

I sat up oh-so-slowly, praying that the bloke next to me was a heavy sleeper. I clutched the duvet close as I slipped my feet over the edge of the bed and glanced frantically around the floor.

My panties lay next to the bed and I quickly slid them on. My dress a bit further away and I had to let go of the duvet to reach for it. I hadn’t worn a bra, since my tits were so small, so I slipped the dress over my head quickly.

I couldn’t find my tights, but I wasn’t going to worry about them.

My purse was on the floor as well, and I grabbed it as I tip-toed away. The bloke on the bed groaned and flopped over, and my heart nearly stopped. But he slept on.

I inched the door open and light filtered in.

I chanced another glance back at whoever it was, and now the light fell on him, I saw he was familiar.
Very
familiar.

It was Jakob. The most popular lad at school.

Who I thought was good-looking, but who had a girlfriend, so he’d always been off limits. It wasn’t like I’d ever been on his radar either. I wasn’t one of the cool crowd.

Jakob. And me.

Naked in a bed.

Oh no
.

Had I had sex with him willingly?

Had he forced himself on me?

Or had he simply had his way with me while I was too drunk to give consent?

But that was forcing himself on me!

I found my shoes in the hallway, and I stepped into them on wobbly legs, then stumbled out of the flat as quickly as I could.

Once I was out on the street, I stopped to look around. I was downtown, right smack in the middle of it, actually.

It was a bloody long walk home in the middle of the night, in only a dress and heels. I’d forgot my jacket in my hurry to get out—but I regretted it now as I wrapped my arms around myself. I should’ve searched for my tights too.

My eyes burned as I hurried along the pavement. The town was dark and silent. Or as silent as a town our size could ever be.

Tears brimmed and overflowed, trickling down my cheeks.

My feet hurt in my heels, so I eventually took them off. I let them dangle at my side, hitting against my thigh with each step I took.

I only wore my tiny dress. It was thin, no help at all against the cold breeze. At least it wasn’t snowing outside.

I reached the park, where I sank onto a bench. My shoes dropped to the ground with a
thud
as I buried my face in my hands.

You shouldn’t cry, Maria,
I told myself sternly.
Get up and go home. You can cry when you’re safely home and in bed, but not here.

That pep-talk didn’t help.

If anything, it only made me feel worse.

I didn’t remember anything. I had no idea how I’d ended up naked in a bed with Jakob—or what we’d done in that bed once we’d been naked.

What the hell have I done?

Did I have sex with him?

I was naked. He was naked. It adds up.

Did he use me?

But it was Jakob. He was known as a good guy. Besides being the most popular guy in school, he was also the kindest. He never talked bad about anyone, he always had a smile and a
hello
for people, even those he didn’t know.

That was why I’d had a crush on him for a while now. Because he was so
good
. And handsome, obviously.

But whereas he the epitome of goodness—I’d heard he even participated in several charities—he dated the school’s bitchiest
bitch
.

Oh shit.

He was in a relationship and I’d possibly slept with him—or been sexually assaulted by him—and what the hell would happen now?

I cried harder and wrapped my arms around myself, rocking. It was
freezing
, but I couldn’t find the will to get up and get moving.

“Hey. Are you all right?”

I jumped approximately three feet in the air at the gruff voice in front of me.

No one’s supposed to be out at four in the morning!

I looked up—and found myself drowning in deep, brown eyes that swirled with emotions I couldn’t decipher.

His expression, which had been somewhat worried, turned to surprise. His eyes widened, and I thought I saw a shadow under his left eye.
A bruise, maybe?
But those eyes…

I flicked my gaze back to them.

They drew me in.

Minutes went by while we kept staring at each other.

I sat on the bench, he stood in front of me.

He was the epitome of tall, dark, and mysterious—except his thick, unruly hair was blond. But he was definitely the kind of person people would refer to as a bad boy.

Dirty Converse trainers, loose-fitting, holey jeans, a thick hoodie, and a leather jacket. Not to mention the bruise, because it was there.

And I knew who he was.

We had German together, but I’d never once exchanged words with him.

He was the school’s resident bad boy. The one with the explosive temper, the one who got into fights, the one everyone kept a wide berth around.

And now here he was, in front of me,
worried
about
me
.

He cleared his throat, feet shuffling.

That brought me out of my trance.

“Uhh, yeah, I’m—fine.” I bowed my head, because I clearly wasn’t fine. At least the tears had stopped, but that had only happened because I’d been so shocked that someone was there—and then because of my fascination with him, the realisation of exactly who he was.

He shuffled his feet some more. “You don’t look fine.”

I sniffled and wiped furiously at my face. My fingers came away black, so I could only guess what state my mascara and eyeliner were in.

“It’s nothing. It’s silly.” Except it wasn’t silly. It was so far from silly.

“It’s not silly if you’re crying about it.”

I looked up at him again.

He’d buried his hands in his jeans pockets now and his shoulders were hunched. He looked sort of… nervous.

And he, who was known for being a rude arsehole with authority issues, was being kind to me.

“I think I’ve been sexually assaulted.” It slipped out before I could hold it back.

Why am I telling this to him?
a voice screamed inside my head.

His gaze darted up to my face, startled.

“Or, I don’t know,” I hurried to add. “I don’t remember anything. I blacked out.” My teeth chattered and I wrapped my arms tighter around myself. “Maybe I had sex with him of my own free will. I don’t know.”

More shuffling from him. “You don’t remember anything at all?”

I shook my head.

The waterworks had started up again and I buried my face in my hands again.

Even more nervous shuffling.

“Can you sit down?” I snapped. “That’s driving me mental!”

He froze.

I glanced up, surprised at my vehement reaction.

We stared at each other.

“I’m sorry,” I said in a low voice. “You don’t have to, obviously, you can just go or whatever—” I motioned vaguely with my hand. “Or stay. I don’t mind.” I blushed, and it flushed all the way up my neck and my cheeks.

He sat down tentatively next to me. He glanced wryly at me, uncertain, as if he wasn’t sure he was allowed to sit there.

I looked back, hoping for honest and friendly, but I was sure my general appearance right then ruined everything I tried to convey with my eyes. My mascara and eyeliner must be smudged and trailed down my cheeks—which meant I must look horrible.

I also couldn’t seem to take my eyes off him. Now that he’d sat down, the light from the streetlamp over us fell over him, lighting him up, and he looked
good
.

Why have I never noticed that before?

He averted his gaze, taking in the rest of me. My bare shoulders, my shaking arms, my bare thighs and legs, and feet with no shoes.

My teeth chattered more wildly, to the point he had to hear it. I wanted to curl up into a ball, because I was
so cold
, but my dress was so tight and small it would only expose my underwear, which I did
not
want.

He took his leather jacket off, then wrenched his thick hoodie over his head, leaving him in only a light T-shirt. “Here.” He handed me the hoodie.

“You’ll freeze.” I didn’t want to take his clothes from him.

He nudged it at me. “You need it more than I do.”

I only stared at it.

“Take it, or I’ll force it over your head.”

He seemed like he would too, so I took it and quickly pulled it on. It was still warm and it smelled faintly of his cologne.
It’s a good smell
.

It blanketed my upper body in warmth and I sighed. My legs were still cold, but there was nothing I could do about that.

“Thanks.” I looked at him again. He’d pulled his leather jacket back on and zipped it up. “What happened to your eye?”

His hand shot up to touch the bruise. “Nothing.”

“You’re really going to give me that? After I told
you
why I was crying?” That was hypocritical of him.

He pressed his lips together, head turning away from me. “My stepfather.”

“Oh.”
Shit
. “Does that happen often?”

His silence was answer enough.

“Are you on your way home after an after-party?” I asked when the silence stretched on.

“No.” He sat up straighter, forearms resting on his thighs. “I can’t go home. Last time I checked, after I finished work, the lights were still on.”

Oh god
.

“That bad?”

He finally looked at me again, face set in a hard expression. “Why are
you
comforting
me
? It’s supposed to be the other way around.”

“I bounce back quickly.” Or it was more like focusing on him gave me something else to think about instead of my current predicament.

His eyebrows lifted. “From possible sexual assault?”

Now it was my turn to look away. “I don’t know if that happened.”

“Can’t you, like,
feel
it? Down there? If something’s happened, I mean. If you lost your virginity.”

I frowned. “I’m not a virgin.”

Now he lifted one eyebrow. “Really?”

I glared. “I’m
not
.” Why did he think I was?

“Huh.” He shrugged and turned away from me again. “You just strike me as a good girl, is all.”

“Good girls have to be virgins?” I couldn’t let the subject drop.

He shrugged again, but didn’t answer.

“And no, I don’t
feel
anything. Except freezing, that is.” But I would’ve felt something if I’d had sex, wouldn’t I? Even if I wasn’t a virgin… I didn’t feel any different. It certainly didn’t feel like something had been inside me.

Last year, when I put out for my ex, I always felt it a while after we had sex. Looser, sort of. I didn’t quite know how to explain it, but there was definitely a different feeling
down there
after sex as compared to before.

“Maybe you should go to the police,” he suggested.

“No.” I shook my head. “I just want to go home.”

“What if it did happen and there’s evidence?”

Evidence…
Oh no.