Craving Forbidden (Craving Series Book 8)

by Crave Publishing

  “Please…I know how this must seem to you.”

  She arched her brows.

  “Do you?”

  “Please, Melinda.” He angled toward her. “I want to explain.”

  “Go ahead then.”

  “I can’t. Not here.” He glanced at the throng of women watching them with open interest. “Meet me tonight. Manny’s place.”

  “That won’t be possible.”

  She honestly hadn’t thought he’d be stupid enough to try and touch her and was utterly unprepared when he laid his hands over hers. Her heart went into overdrive, but it wasn’t simply outrage. Her body clamored for him. After everything, she still wanted him. Mortified, she tried to jerk her hands back, but he tightened his grip.

  “Let go of me,” she insisted, her voice tight and low.

  “Please. Give me your last name.”

  “No!” She tugged, but he held fast. “Jason,” she hissed. “Let. Me. Go.”

  “I will.” Despite the reassurance, he did not loosen his hold. “Just…Will you at least say you’ll think about meeting me tonight?”

  “You don’t get it, do you? What you did…you humiliated me. And I don’t ever want to see you, again, J. T. Wright,” she snarled.

  He deflated before her eyes, his hollow expression haunting.

  “I never meant…” His sigh was a forlorn and defeated thing. “Dammit.” He hung his head, but his gaze sparked with renewed intensity when he returned it to hers. “You didn’t do anything wrong last night, Melinda. All of it…it’s on me.”

  His mea culpa made her feel worse, small somehow. She never should have tried to see him. She should have gone home.

  “Please, Jason. Let me go.”

  He drew in a deep breath, his fingers relaxing as he blew out slowly. Melinda prepared to make her escape. But, once again, he thwarted her intentions, caressing her from wrists to fingertips before letting his hands fall away. Lips parting over an involuntary sigh, she found her knees too week to move.

  “I still plan to wait for you tonight. In case you change your mind.”

  She shook her head.

  “Don’t waste your time.”

  She turned to go.

  “Melinda.” The yearning in his voice gave her pause. “You could never be a waste of my time.”

  He’s a writer, she reminded herself. He’s seduced thousands of women with words like those.

  Gathering what remained of her dignity, Melinda squared her shoulders. Then she strode from the hall, leaving J. T. Wright to watch and wonder behind her.

  Chapter 8

  “Last call, J. T.”

  Jason looked at the drink he’d been nursing for the last hour before tipping the remains into his mouth. Swallowing, he set the empty glass back on the counter.

  “Think I could get one for the road, Manny?”

  The bartender smiled, pouring a double before sauntering over and exchanging glasses. Then he leaned in and placed his forearms flat on the bar.

  “Sorry things didn’t work out for you.”

  “Yeah. I guess she decided I wasn’t worth the effort. Not that I blame her.” Jason took a bracing gulp. “I royally fucked up.”

  “Hey.” Manny nudged Jason’s arm with his fist. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. I know I don’t know you that well, but you seem like a stand-up guy. You’re certainly a hell of a tipper.” He grinned. “In my experience, a lot of these things are only meant to last one night.”

  “No.” Jason shook his head. “Not this thing. Not with her.”

  Manny shrugged, and then straightened with a low groan.

  “Sorry, Man. Fifteen minutes, ’kay?”

  Jason lifted his glass in salute.

  “Got it.”

  After finishing his drink, Jason placed a few twenties beneath the glass before heading for the door.

  He’d almost made it to the elevator when he remembered he’d emptied the minibar of scotch the moment he’d gotten back to his room after the signing. With Steve’s support and the slightly delusional belief Melinda would somehow sense his accomplishment—and be impressed by it—Jason had made it through the event. And he’d done it without incident, though not entirely unscathed. His hands had been shaking so badly it had been difficult to pour the first drink. It had taken a second, and a thirty-minute nap, before he’d felt steady enough to go down to the bar and begin his fruitless vigil.

  True to her word, Melinda hadn’t shown. In fact, as far as he knew, she was gone. Back to a life he knew nothing about, lost to him forever. He’d need a lot more alcohol if he wanted any sleep. Reversing direction, he headed for reception.

  A strategically placed potted plant screened the tiny alcove from view. And, if not for her gentle snore, Jason never would have seen her. Melinda. Sound asleep and curled on a floral upholstered loveseat, her hands tucked beneath her cheek.

  Shaking his head slightly, he crept closer, sinking onto his knees beside her. He wanted to gather her into his arms, tell her he needed her, kiss her breathless. But he hadn’t earned the right to do any of those things.

  “Melinda,” he called quietly, his hands clasped tight in his lap. “Melinda.”

  Her eyelids fluttered open, her gaze clouded with confusion. When, at last, she focused on him, her face lit with a slow smile.

  “Barnes,” she whispered.

  “What?”

  “My last name.”

  “Barnes,” he repeated with wonder, relief flooding through him.

  He looked up at the ceiling, opening his mouth to breath around the lump which had formed in his throat. It took several seconds for him to regain control. When he looked back at her, he saw she’d been watching. He reached out, easing his thumb over the creases in her forehead.

  “Are you okay?”

  He nodded.

  “Getting better.”

  “What time is it?”

  “After two.”

  “Oh!”

  She moved as if to get up, but he put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

  “Shh,” he soothed her. “You’re fine.”

  “But I didn’t show up.”

  He grinned.

  “I noticed.”

  Using her arms, she pushed herself up to sitting, tucking her legs beneath her. Jason rested his hands on the edge of the cushion, his fingertips a hairsbreadth from her knees.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  He shook his head.

  “You warned me.”

  “I know. But,” she shrugged. “I changed my mind.”

  “I see that.”

  She patted the place next to her and he obliged, keeping his gaze on his hands, which lay motionless on knees in stark contrast to his wildly careening thoughts.

  “I’m sorry about what I said.”

  He looked up, startled by her softly spoken words.

  “Sorry for what?”

  “Saying you humiliated me. It seemed…harsh, in hindsight.”

  He shook his head slowly.

  “It was how you felt.” He dropped his gaze. “How I made you feel.”

  Fingertips beneath his chin, she brought his head up to face her. He closed his eyes at her sweet touch.

  “You made me feel a lot of things.”

  He opened his eyes to her shy smile.

  “I wasn’t trying to trick you.”

  “I know.”

  “I just…I really don’t know why, Melinda. Honestly, it was like I had to have you.”

  She nodded and then grinned.

  “Crazy. Huh?”

  Gathering her hands into his own, he shifted closer, resting the tangle of their fingers on the side of his thigh between them.

  “It was…”

  Life changing. Earthshattering. Soul-searing. Not wanting to scare her, Jason refrained from finishing her sentence.

  “Is that why you changed your mind?”

  “Not really.” A charming blush belied her denial. “Not entirely, at least. I tried to go. I really d
id. I sat behind the wheel of my car for about an hour. I just…I really need to know why, Jason. Why didn’t you tell me who you were?”

  “Because telling you wouldn’t have meant anything. It just would have put this stupid, tattooed wall between us. I swear,” he pledged, shutting his eyes briefly. “The conversation we had in the bar had nothing to do with what happened in my hotel room. I haven’t had a night like that…” He lifted her hands to his lips, raising his gaze to hers as he brushed his lips over her knuckles. “Ever.”

  “Jason.” Her exasperated sigh made him smile. “You don’t have to say that.”

  He lowered their hands to their former position and tipped his head to make sure he had her attention.

  “It’s the absolute truth.”

  “Okay,” she conceded.

  “Okay,” he echoed, squeezing her hands. “So here’s the rest of it.” He took a deep breath. “My name is Jason Thomas Wright. And you can tell that book club of yours they’re right. J. T. Wright is a PR stunt. I created him to give me time.” She stayed silent, though the question was plain on her face. “Six years ago, I was living what most people would consider a charmed life. I had a home…a wife”—her eyes went wide, but she seemed determined to let him continue without interruption—“a successful career.” He grinned. “In finance, if you can believe it. We went into the city on weekends, vacationed with friends. Everything and anything I’d ever wanted. And then I had my first panic attack.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah.” He nodded at her shocked expression. “I didn’t see it coming either. Hell of a cosmic hand to the back of the head. And I…did not handle it well. Within six months, I’d lost everything, my job, my home, my marriage.”

  “Jason. I’m so sorry. What did you do?”

  He smiled at the memory.

  “The only thing I could, I ran home.” At her puzzled expression, he clarified, “I moved back in with my parents.”

  “Oh, God!”

  He laughed.

  “No. It was a good thing. It got me here.” And to you. “I started writing again.”

  “Again?”

  “Yeah. I’d written a few things in high school and college, essays, a couple of short stories. I thought, maybe, it could help me figure out what had happened.”

  “And did it?”

  “It did.” He lowered his gaze. The time had come. “Flowers at Midnight came out of it.”

  “Flowers at Midnight?”

  He let the silence stretch between them, waiting for Melinda to make the necessary connections.

  “I don’t think I understand.”

  “Collette’s fiancé,” he prompted.

  “He was an asshole.”

  Jason grinned.

  “Yes, he was.”

  “That was you?”

  “Yes.”

  His smile faded as he felt her pull away. And though it cost him dearly, he didn’t fight when she slipped her fingers from between his.

  “He was cruel,” she accused.

  “I know.”

  “He made her feel worthless.”

  “He did.” Unable to bear her stricken look, Jason closed his eyes. “I did.”

  “So is that what you think about women like me?”

  She covered her mouth with the back of her hand, but not before he saw her bottom lip quiver.

  “Melinda, no.” He took her by the shoulders, but she turned her head, refused to face him, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. “That’s not what I think. You can’t believe…I mean, last night, I couldn’t keep my hands off you. I don’t even know how many times I woke you up. That kind of enthusiasm…that’s not something a man can fake.” She at least looked at him then, though her smile was thin and her eyes bright. “Back then, though,” he pressed on, determined not to keep anything from her. “I was immature and weak. I let ignorant, shallow people influence me. Worst of all, I was hateful to a woman who cared deeply about me. A woman I’d claimed to love. I deserved to lose her.”

  Please, don’t say I’ve lost you too.

  He reached out, encouraged when Melinda didn’t flinch as he smoothed a wayward strand away from her forehead and tucked it behind her ear. She let him take her hands back in his.

  “Flowers at Midnight helped me understand where I’d gone wrong. Not only had I lost the woman I’d loved, I’d also lost my way. I’ve been working on getting back on track ever since.”

  “Are you?” she whispered. “Back on track, I mean?”

  “I think I am. Today was amazing, getting out from behind the curtain. It was a huge step.”

  “From behind the curtain? Do you mean you were there? In Houston?”

  “And Chicago. And here, yesterday. I sit. I listen. I feel like shit.”

  “Oh, Jason.”

  He didn’t know if he deserved her sympathy, but he certainly wasn’t going to refuse it. Especially not when she snuggled closer and slipped her arms around him.

  “So what made today different?”

  “Desperation.”

  “Desperation?”

  “I hoped showing my face might piss you off enough to get you to confront me.”

  She laughed.

  “Well, you were right about that.”

  “A little too right for my liking.” He grinned down at her, but then sobered. “There’s another reason. Before last night, I hadn’t considered I’d have readers like you, willing to sacrifice time and money just to meet me. They deserved better.”

  “A reasonable explanation, at least,” she countered dryly.

  He chuckled.

  “That too. But after today, I don’t think it’s going to be an issue. Putting myself out there…It was okay. In fact, aside from being worried about you, I think I was actually starting to enjoy myself toward the end.”

  She looked up at him.

  “I’m glad.”

  “Me too.”

  He leaned down, kissing her gently.

  “All those women,” she murmured.

  He pulled back to look at her.

  “What about them?”

  She grinned.

  “They’re all in love with you, you know.”

  “Not me. J. T. Wright.”

  She screwed her mouth up in a dismissive sneer.

  “But you’re him and he’s you.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “With you, I just want to be Jason.”

  “I don’t know,” she hedged. “The tattoo’s gonna be kind of hard to ignore.”

  “Hmm. Maybe I should think about having it removed.”

  “Don’t you dare!”

  He gave her a lopsided grin, watching as her blue eyes grew dark.

  “Hey, Melinda?”

  “Yes, Jason.”

  “You wanna get out of here?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  “I do have one condition, though.”

  “Anything.”

  “Tonight, we’re leaving on the lights.”

  About the Author

  DawnMarie Richards’ grandmother introduced her to the romance novel, providing an endless, ever-changing supply of dog-eared Harlequins from a stash kept in a paper grocery bag. As a romance author, DawnMarie writes what she most enjoys reading—passionate love stories spiked with sensual heat in all the right places. She delights in doing that very thing from her home in southern Arizona, which she shares with her husband and a bubbly Saint Bernard named Rosie.

  Facebook:

  https://www.facebook.com/DawnMarieRichardsAuthor

  Twitter:

  https://twitter.com/dawnmarie55555

  Goodreads:

  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8627789.DawnMarie_Richards

  Amazon:

  https://www.amazon.com/default/e/B00NO6V0UG?redirectedFromKindleDbs=true

  Website:

  https://dawnmarierichards.com/

  In the Depths of Night

  By C.J. Laurence

  Chapter One


  Drake

  They always say you find what you’re looking for when you least expect it. That I can definitely say is true. I knew for a long time she was supposed to be mine. The problem came with not acting upon it. First because she was underage, and second because she was my sister’s best friend. Today though, she turned eighteen, and she’d also been living with my family for about four months.

  Those four months had been the longest, hardest, ball-busting days I’d endured in my life. Even the shit my brothers had me doing while I was a teen, prospecting for our MC, didn’t come anywhere near those sixteen weeks of midnight trysts and unspoken desires.

  Night after night of soothing her night terrors, wrapping her up in blankets to warm her after cold sweats and trembles roused her from sleep. In the early days, it was a somewhat strange, speechless event. I’d be on the couch, she’d come down looking for a blanket and warmth, and I’d wrap her up and cuddle her until dawn broke, signaling the end of our secret meeting. As the weeks passed, we gradually started to talk about all sorts of shit, from crappy early morning TV to our favourite flavour sauce. It was a regular nightly occurrence I now looked forward to, and even left horny women at the bar to come home to Paige.

  Sweet, innocent, beautiful Paige Howkins.

  My sister’s best friend.

  Even though the most physical thing between us was this chivalrous, virtuous interaction, we both seemed to carry guilt about our nightly rendezvous. My younger sister, Annabelle, had a lot of issues that not only made her a first-class she-devil but a very untrusting person. The fact she’d reached out enough to make friends with Paige in the first place was a miracle. To then see her, and want her, as part of our family was quite something else. Obviously, we’d not hesitated in agreeing to Annabelle’s request for her BFF to live with us.

  But it caused a huge problem for me.

  I was eight years older than Paige. When I’d first met her, her delicious curves and quiet determination portrayed her as much older. Imagine my horror when lil’ sis dropped the bomb that they were in the same art class. I’d done my best after that to stay the fuck away from her. I felt wrong, disgusted with myself for not knowing she was the same age as my sister—sixteen.