My Anti Hero Read Online Tijan

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, Insta-Love, Sports, Suspense Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 155798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 779(@200wpm)___ 623(@250wpm)___ 519(@300wpm)

I shouldn't have agreed to this. What was I thinking?Appearing on a local news show? Just because something happened to me?I live mostly in isolation on purpose.

But here I am.I was so nervous that I needed the make-up chair, twice.And then I walked past his room.

He's a giant—no softness, all muscle.And a rich beard that made me want to rub myself all over it.He made me see stars, literally because the second time I saw him, I tripped.Or I would've, but he caught me, and the cameras were rolling.Soon, that clip will be trending because he wasn't just another guest on the show.

He's Brett Broudou, the Kings' newest football star.We couldn't be more opposite.The only special thing about me is the reason I was on the show.Brett, the Super Bowl champion, and me, the survivor who helped bring down the infamous Midwest Butcher.

Brett might not think he's anyone's hero, but he's about to become mine.

A/ This is a 140k standalone.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************



This was the most moronic, stupid-endous, idiotic move of all moves I’d made in the last ten years. And I’d done some seriously stupid shit. But agreeing to be interviewed on a local news channel when I lived mostly as a hermit was, yeah, just plain dumb.

My armpits looked like they’d been dipped in buckets of water, and there were red splotches all over my arms.

I’d already been in the hair and makeup chair, so not only was I screwed, the news people were screwed. No touchup was going to fix the mess my nerves were making of my body.

“Willow, are you ready…?” One of the show’s staff came in, saw me, and promptly trailed off as horror flashed over his face. He clutched his clipboard to his thin frame and reached for his radio. A forced smile plastered over his face. “If you’ll excuse me? One moment.”

He was in the hallway in a flash, and I could hear his slightly panicked voice. “We need a fixer in guest room two ASAP.” Click. “Also, we’ll need to switch segments. Alert the prompter.” He continued speaking, but his voice grew quieter, so he must’ve been walking away.

This was my fault. All my fault.

I worked alone, dealing with clients over the internet. Graphic design. Any contact was through email or private messages. Or sometimes a phone call, which was fine.

It’s not like I was some social recluse. I could be around people. I was around people growing up from the time I went into foster care at age twelve until I got lucky on my tenth home. The couple took a liking to me, and though they’d never adopted me legally, they’d raised me in every other way. I lived with them until I turned eighteen, then took over their guesthouse, and I’d been there ever since. They charged me almost nothing, just enough to cover their gas and electric, and I’d been able to finish high school, put myself through community college, and take a few extra classes in Photoshop. That had gotten me to where I was now. Well, not exactly here. Only my dumbass self was to blame for my current predicament.

“Oh dear.” Frantic energy brought my attention to the doorway, where the makeup guy now stood. He shook his head, talking into his radio. “We’ll need wardrobe. A new shirt for sure.” He spoke to me. “Honey, you’ll need my chair again. Come on. You can tell me what’s going on too. You got nerves? Is that it?”

I followed him through the back of the studio.

“I guess with what you went through, you wouldn’t want to talk about it? I wouldn’t either. If I were you—” He prattled on, but I mostly tuned him out. It was all things I’d heard before.

Still, I was able to respond when he said something that required a response—a nod when needed and a grunt or yeah of agreement when it was appropriate. I’d learned to do that a lot over the years, mentally checking out. Usually, if and when people recognized me or heard my story, they wanted to talk because everyone knew about my story.

It used to be overwhelming.

Because I was more focused on studying the wall as we walked along the hallway, I wasn’t expecting what happened next that happened next. We passed a doorway—and it hit me.

It wasn’t love at first sight, but it was most definitely lust at first sight.

It hit me hard, right in the sternum, and I stopped in my tracks. Actually and literally stopped. My mouth wasn’t on the floor, because I was too reserved for that, but it was definitely open. Some drool action might’ve happened.

Coming out of another room was a giant. Or he looked like a giant.

He was massive. There was no softness about him. He was all muscle, and holy gods, I was reeling.

Tan skin.

Rich black hair.

A yummy looking beard that made me want to rub myself all over it.

A thick neck.

Square jaw.

Massive shoulders.

Massive pectorals.

Holy—his entire chest was large and in charge but ended in a tapered waist.

The guy, whoever he was, had me seeing stars. And I wasn’t like this. Ever.

My last relationship had been with a guy in community college. I’d had a brief relationship with a girl before then, but that was it. I didn’t do casual sex, and I’d learned it was easier just staying away from most people in general, for everything. But this guy made me ache for things I’d never experienced in my life.

I wasn’t sure how to handle it.

I was usually locked down, or actually, I didn’t even need to lock down. I’d just learned not to expect a whole lot of good from people. So I was completely unprepared for the whiplash of need and want and yearning that now raged inside me.