Forbidden Desires

by Jenna Hartley

  The machine in my hand buzzed, the needles bouncing faster than the naked eye could follow. She’d been in my chair for hours and endured the pain like it didn’t faze her. And of course she would. She was stronger than anyone I’d ever known.

  “Almost done, babe,” I said gently, and she nodded as I finished shading the ice around her heart.

  I’d come up with the idea just after we’d gotten back together, and when I drew it up, I was sure she’d never go for it. For someone who had no visible tattoos, letting me tattoo her back down to her tailbone seemed a stretch. But when I showed her, she pressed her fingers to her lips and said yes. I hoped it wasn’t the only yes I’d ever get from her when it came to the impossible.

  I’d planned on painting it, if she’d refused — her naked back, skin split open to reveal her heart of ice. But inside, it glowed with fire that burned the ice away, sending it down her back in rivulets. I’d covered her old ice tattoo with silhouetted wildflowers that sprang up into watercolor in the same blues, reds, and oranges of her fiery heart.

  I turned off my machine, though my hand still tingled, making it feel like it was vibrating as I wiped the extra ink and blood from the art. I stretched and pulled at her skin, turning my head to inspect it for mistakes. But it was perfect, and so was she.

  The cameras around us kept rolling as she sat, and I showed her the piece in the mirror. Part of me wanted to step between her and the camera to hide her body, the body only I had the pleasure of seeing so bare, even with the sticky bra on, but the look on her face when she saw her back made everyone else in the room disappear. Her eyes were wide and wet, her breath short as she looked it over, telling me I’d done well. I’d done right by her.

  “Joel …” she breathed.

  I smiled, my heart expanding in my chest with pride and emotion. I couldn’t speak.

  She was still looking in the mirror, her eyes scanning the piece. “It’s … God. It’s beautiful. It’s perfect.”

  I stood and hugged her, pulling her into my chest, my fingers in her hair. There were no cameras, not other people, just us in that moment, and I kissed her temple as she wrapped her arms around my waist.

  “You okay?” I asked, and she nestled into my chest.

  “Yeah. I can’t believe it’s over. I can’t believe how it looks.”

  I chuckled. “You doubted me?”

  She pulled away to look up at me, smiling. “Never for a second. It was just more than I imagined.”

  I pressed a smiling kiss to her lips and let her go to finish up. I rubbed the salve all over her raw skin, then taped a plastic covering over it to protect it for a few hours. She pulled on a loose tank afterward, and Laney smiled at us.

  “Cut.” The cameras lowered — all except one — and everyone chatted. The whole Tonic crew was there to watch us film the second season’s finale and the wrap party.

  Season one had ended with a bang. We worked Annika into the show, and Laney softballed the editing for all of our sake. When they approached us for season two, we’d almost refused. But we’d gone all in with Hal and Liz — which was bizarre in its own right — and with that control over our fate and Laney on our side, we decided to go for it.

  The ridiculous amount of money they offered us didn’t hurt either. Because the show took off. We were a household name, and it wasn’t the absolute worst thing in the world.

  Annika had moved in months before — we filmed an entire moving-in episode. Surreal. — and we’d merged our lives. Merged our hearts. And I didn’t ever want to be without her again.

  Laney caught my eye and gave me a slight nod.

  I reached for Annika’s hand and pulled her back to the chair, adjusting it so she could sit. Her eyes were full of questions, though her lips still smiled sweetly at me. She’d changed so much and somehow not at all. But that hardness was gone, letting what was inside of her go free. And that made her all that much more beautiful.

  I held her hands in mine as everyone hushed. And I looked into her eyes and took a breath, ready for what would come, hell or high water.

  “I never thought I’d fall in love. Didn’t think it was for me, figured it was me who was broken. But then you walked into my shop and proved me wrong. You proved me wrong about everything, about who I thought I was, about what I thought I wanted. Because in the end, I only wanted you. The girl who pushed me, who wanted me, who loved me despite my many shortcomings. And it didn’t take me very long at all to realize I didn’t want to be without you. Not ever. I love you, Annika.”

  She smiled, her cheeks flushed and eyes shining with tears. “I love you too, Joel.”

  And then I reached into my pocket as I dropped to one knee, and her eyes flew wide, her fingers pressed to her lips, and the whole room gasped, even though almost all of them knew what had been coming. I opened the velvet box where a simple ring lay, two bands criss-crossing back and forth on each other, covered in small diamonds that made it shine and shimmer when the light hit it like sunshine on snow.

  “Marry me,” I said quietly, simply, and her eyes jumped from the ring to my face, her hand falling away to reveal her smile, and she reached for me, cupping my face, as she said the word I’d longed to hear.

  “Yes.”

  It was shaky and sweet, and she pressed her lips to mine, wrapping her arms around my neck to the whoops and cheers of the crew. And I stood, cupping her face, kissing her to seal the promise.

  I held her for a long moment, though not long enough, kissing her, whispering to her. And then I pulled away and slipped the ring on her finger with shaking hands before kissing her again. As much as I’d hated the idea of doing this with everyone around, in the end, it had felt completely right. The show brought us together, and they should all be part of our forever.

  We walked around, hugging and receiving congratulations from everyone. PAs came back from the break room with flutes of champagne, and we toasted and laughed. And she was tucked into my side for all of it. But I could feel all the things she wanted to say, and I wanted to hear them, anxious for the moment when we could be alone.

  But before that, we made our way up to the control room and to the green room where we filmed the engagement interview with Laney, answering questions and laughing and holding hands. And the second we were finished, we flew out the door and down a flight of stairs, into our apartment.

  I’d hoped she’d say yes, and had planned for all of this, from wine next to the bed to rose petals everywhere. And she walked into our room, shaking her head.

  “You did all this?”

  I nodded, smirking.

  She turned to me, laying a hand on my chest as she popped up on her tiptoes. “You’re just an old romantic, aren’t you?”

  I wrapped a hand around her waist, mindful of her tattoo. “We’re both gooier than we let on, aren’t we?”

  She kissed me. “That we are. I think we bring out the goo in each other.”

  I chuckled, touching her face. “You said yes.”

  “Of course I said yes. How could I ever be with anyone else? You’ve ruined me for all other men, Joel Anderson.”

  “Good. Because you’re mine, and I’m yours. I’ll give you my name, my heart, my soul. Anything you want, so long as you return the favor.”

  “I will. I already have. You’re it for me.” She paused for a second, watching me with her big, blue eyes. “Are you scared?”

  I shook my head and thumbed her bottom lip. “Not even a little. I never thought … I didn’t know it could be like this. I didn’t know love until you, and now that I have you, I want you forever.”

  And her smile could have moved mountains. “I’m yours.”

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  About the Author

  Staci has been a lot of things up to this point in her life: a graphic designer, an entrepreneur, a seamstress, a clothing and handbag designer, a waitress. Can’t forget that. She’s also been a mom to three little girls who are sure to grow up to break a number of hearts. She’s been a wife, even though she’s certainly not the cleanest, or the best cook. She’s also super, duper fun at a party, especially if she’s been drinking whiskey, and her favorite word starts with f, ends with k.

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  staci@stacihartnovels.com

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  Chapter 1

  Julia

  My shoes squeak as I make my way up the porch steps, banging on the white door with the heel of my hand. “Come on, Ollie.”

  The puddle at my feet grows as I wait. I want nothing more than to get out of my soaked clothes, jump under the hot shower, and curl up in bed. After alternating between knocking and ringing the bell, the door finally opens, and I let out a sigh of relief as I look up.

  But, holy moly. This is most definitely not my brother standing in front of me.

  My vision is filled with none other than his best friend, Carter.

  The same one I grew up with, at least once both he and my brother finally accepted I wasn’t going to leave them alone, even though I was two years younger.

  “Jules? What the hell happened to you?” He gives me a once-over, his eyes going wide as he takes in my appearance and the suitcase behind me.

  My stomach rolls, his question bringing back today's events. Events I'd rather not think about. Instead, I force the fresh memory back into a box in my mind, not planning on going there anytime soon.

  “What are you doing here? Are you rooming with Ollie?” The second the words leave my mouth, I vaguely remember my brother mentioning something about it the last time we talked.

  That’s what happens when you don’t pay enough attention.

  “I am.”

  Two words, and I’m pulled into all things Carter. So much easier to focus on him, letting him distract me from this shitshow my life has turned into.

  The tepid temperatures of the rain have slowly turned my skin cold under my soaked clothes, but I’m not a hundred percent positive that’s the reason for the goose bumps that appeared out of nowhere. When I saw him a few months ago, he definitely didn’t greet me like this.

  Suppressing a shiver, another question tumbles out of my mouth. “And why on earth are you half-naked? Do you usually open the door like this?”

  He looks down his body as if it would answer for him, which doesn’t take very long given he only has a towel wrapped around his waist. Not that there isn’t a lot to check out with his well-over-six-foot frame. But that’s more for me, of course.

  Despite the messy state I’m in—both physically and emotionally—I can’t help but roam over the fine contours of his upper body while he’s not looking.

  I guess old habits die hard. It feels a little bad, like looking at him is taboo.

  He’s the forbidden fruit, per my brother’s demand at least. But Ollie isn’t here, and since I’m newly single, it’s really no one’s business who or what I’m looking at.

  Large parts of Carter’s upper body are covered in tattoos—chest, biceps—and if memory serves right, there are a few on his back too. Most of them are abstract—beautiful black drawings I wanted to trace a time or two when I was younger.

  Carter clears his throat, and I snap out of my trance. No one can fault me for being fascinated by all those tattoos and muscles.

  The embarrassment of getting caught still flames my cheeks, and I re
frain from covering them with my hands. I only walked a few feet from my car to the front door in the rain, but I know it was enough for my mascara to run down my face. I’m probably only making it worse the more I try to wipe it away.

  But I shouldn’t be ogling Carter so soon after my boyfriend broke up with me. Then again, Carter has always been hard to ignore—all male with wide shoulders, narrow hips, longish, messy dark-blond hair, a slight scruff on his face. Not to mention the most hypnotizing blue-gray eyes I’ve ever seen.

  “I’d just turned off the shower when I heard the bell ringing. After the tenth ring—not to mention the incessant banging—I thought it might be urgent, so I didn’t waste any more time by putting on clothes.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest, and I close my eyes for a moment, hoping like hell his towel will stay put. I couldn’t live through that sort of mortification tonight, even though Carter would probably find it hilarious.

  He’s never been shy.