Forbidden: A Blakely After Dark Novella (The Forbidden Series)

by Kira Blakely

  “That’s right,” I reply. That’s what I want. Just me and her, somewhere special together. We can travel the world. She wants that. She wants the freedom, right? So, she can have it with me. We’ll take first-class flights and stay up late talking, feeding each other, fucking.

  “But that’s wrong,” Dani says. “I can’t—I care about both of you.”

  “Just because you’ve known him longer doesn’t mean he’s the one for you.” It’s petty to talk like this behind Holden’s back, but I’d say the same to his face, and he’d do it, too. He did last night when he told her I want nothing but sex.

  “It doesn’t matter who’s the one for me. It matters that I don’t ruin your relationship. You’re family. That’s important.” Dani slips her hand from my grasp and sets off down the boardwalk at a blistering pace.

  I follow her.

  “Dani, you can’t walk away from me that easily.”

  She doesn’t reply.

  Fuck, I hate being the follower in this scenario. I’ve never chased pussy in my life. It’s always fallen onto my dick. But Dani isn’t “pussy.” She’s my woman. She’s redefined how I think about life over the course of a couple days.

  It’s crazy, and that’s fine. I’m fucking crazy.

  We zip down the boardwalk, past the garden and its couples and threesomes, down onto the beach and past an orgy of men and women, then up to her villa’s front door.

  She spins on the threshold and presses out a palm.

  “I’m not leaving before we talk this through,” I say. “I’ll stay out here all day if I have to. This is more than just a weekend for me, Dani.” And that takes a lot to say.

  Dani hesitates, licks her lips. “Fine. Come in. You can help me pack my bags.”

  Chapter 21

  Danielle

  I let us into the villa and walk past the sofa and—wait, what?

  I stop dead in my tracks. “That’s—what?” The sofa has been exchanged with another one. This one is forest green and leather. “What happened?”

  “They obviously realized they needed to clean up in here,” Joey says.

  “Wow.” But sofa exchanges are the least of my worries. I march across the boards and into my bedroom. The bed is already made, though I left it a mess this morning, and the windows are open, the curtains hanging either side, touched every now and again by the breeze.

  I drag open the top drawer of my dresser, ignoring my reflection in the mirror above it, and bring out the small pieces that I packed for this trip. Personal things, like underwear and bras, though I haven’t used them since I’ve been here, and my journal.

  In its pages are countless fantasies about loving Holden, living with him, being with him. Being a second mother to his daughter.

  I’ll miss Jessie. Obviously, I can’t go back to the house and see her again.

  That’s going to break me up inside, but it’s what’s best for her.

  I bend and grab my little carry-on bag from under the dresser, then dump it on the bed. I follow that up by tossing the other stuff down next to it. I’m not angry at anyone but myself.

  I’ve ruined everything.

  I should never have come to Mystique. I’ve tossed so much out of the window just because I had a proverbial itch to scratch.

  Idiot, idiot, idiot.

  “Dani, stop.” Joey grabs my wrists and drags me around the side of the bed, toward him. I’ve done my best to ignore his presence. To pretend he doesn’t exist so I can keep a clear head while I pack.

  It’s not working.

  “I have to go. It’s the right thing to do,” I say.

  “No, it’s not.” His grip bites into my wrists. It hurts a little, but I don’t care. He’s touching me, and I love that. I love that even though I shouldn’t.

  God, I’m such a fucking mess.

  “I’m falling for you,” he says.

  “What? How? We don’t know each other. It’s been a few days.”

  “You can’t tell me you don’t feel the connection between us,” he replies, probing me with that ocean gaze. He’s so clear about what he wants, and I envy that. “I don’t care if it’s crazy. I’m fucking crazy. I always have been. I’ve been living an empty life without you in it. I thought I had it all, Dani. I thought my life was the best life. Fucking whenever I want, drinking, eating out. But I have no home. I have no soul. Not without you in my life.”

  “I can’t be your soul,” I say. “I can’t be your soul because I still love Holden, too.”

  “I don’t fucking care.” He shakes as he says it. Shakes so hard that I tremble along with him. “I don’t fucking care if you love him, too. All I want is you. If I lose you because I’m too stubborn to admit that you love him and he loves you, I’ll never forgive myself.” His eyes water. It can’t be tears. He’s too strong for that. So much stronger than me.

  “Joey—”

  He interrupts me with a kiss, so hot and sweet I can’t muster up any thought. I run my fingers up his chest and cup his cheeks, relish the scrape of his stubble against my skin. God, I’m falling for him, too.

  I barely know him, but the connection between us is intense. Every time he touches me, he unlocks something different. Heat, passion, submission.

  Joey’s kiss is frantic. He tastes my tongue, then sucks my bottom lip, nibbles it, then moves to my chin, my left eye, the tip of my nose, my right eye. “I won’t let you go,” he says, punctuating each word with a kiss somewhere else. “I don’t fucking care. You’re my drug, Dani. I won’t let you go.”

  I moan and dissolve into him, taking all the kisses he gives me.

  “I told you at the start of this weekend that you’re mine,” he whispers. “And if you have to be his, too, to be mine, then fine.”

  “What are you saying?” I ask, gasping for breath as if I’m drowning. Maybe I am. Drowning in him and us, and his lust.

  Joey lifts my legs and wraps them around his body. He grabs my ass cheeks and walks me backward until I hit the wall. He grinds his dick against my pussy. We’re separated by two layers of clothing, my shorts and his chinos, but he’s so hard. So very fucking hard.

  He grinds into me and I cry out. “Joey.”

  “You want me,” he says. “You want me inside you. I’ll make you come again, Dani. I’ll make you mine.”

  Oh, god, I need that from him.

  Joey sucks on my neck, holds me up with one arm, while the other hand reaches for my breast. He pinches my nipple through my camisole, then rips the cotton down and bends his head. He suckles on my pink nub, rolls it between his teeth, bites.

  “Oh, fuck,” I moan. I’m lost. He’s got me good.

  He sucks, then circles my areola with his tongue, licks a long line up the slope of my breast to the base of my neck. “Fuck, I need you. I need you here, and I need you in my life. Don’t you fucking dare leave.” It’s the closest to a plea he’s probably ever come.

  I kiss the top of his head, and he lifts it, stares into my eyes as he grinds against me, placing more and more pressure on my clit. I’m pulsing for him already, aching, needing. Captured again by this man whom I’ve simultaneously never known but known for an eternity. That’s what it feels like, at least.

  “That’s it,” he says, and rubs up against me, kisses me again. His tongue massages mine in a slow dance. I’m drunk on him, dizzy. “I’ll love you until you can’t anymore, baby, and then I’ll still love you.”

  I whimper and catch his bottom lip between my teeth. I scrape along it.

  “I need you out of these shorts,” he says. “I’ve got to come in your pussy.” He backs us off the wall, then carries me over to the bed. He tosses me onto it, and I land right beside the journal. It flops open.

  Holden’s looking gorgeous today. He was so sweet. He opened the car door for me this afternoon before we went to fetch Jessie.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, but I can’t block out the words.

  Joey lowers himself on top of me, unaware. He kisses my neck, growl
ing low in his throat.

  “Stop,” I say. “Joey, stop.”

  He does, immediately. He pushes himself off the bed and stands in front of me, watching, still hard. He waits, his arms at his sides—at least, they’re not folded.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I can’t do this with you until everything’s figured out with your brother. It feels wrong. He made it clear what he wants, and this isn’t it.”

  “Fuck,” Joey says.

  “I’d do the same if it was Holden here instead of you.” I nod. “I have to be fair.

  “And fair means what? Leaving the island?”

  Maybe not. Joey said earlier that if I want Holden, too, he’ll deal with it. The fact is, choosing between them is tearing me apart. Leaving will destroy me in so many ways. What if I can take the fourth option Eva mentioned?

  Is that so crazy?

  Obviously, I won’t be able to work for Holden anymore, but…

  “Dani,” Joey says. “You need to give me your final answer.”

  “I will,” I say. “I’ll give it to you, to both of you, tonight.”

  “Tonight?”

  “On the beach,” I say, thinking fast. “Meet me on the beach at ten, near the cabana, okay? Be there, please.”

  Joey grinds his teeth but nods. “All right, I’ll be there, Dani.” It’s so final, and I ache for him all over again. He bends over me and kisses the tip of my nose, then straightens and walks out.

  I lie there and listen to him—the bare feet across the boards, the click as the front door shuts behind him. I’m alone with my thoughts again, not that I want to be, but at least this time I have a plan.

  One I’ll need help to put into action.

  I dart upright, filled with hope and energy for the first time all day.

  This might work, and if it doesn’t, at least I’ll have tried.

  Chapter 22

  Holden

  This can’t end well.

  I walk across the sand, down the short path that leads from my villa toward the meeting place Danielle organized. She called me this afternoon, sounding serious, and asked that I meet her out here.

  I check my watch—ten, right on time—and steel myself for what’s about to come. The moon’s out tonight, but clouds scud across the sky, marring it now and again. Stars dot the inky blue-black above, and there’s not much wind. I pass palm trees and another villa on my path down to the shore.

  Moans emanate from the open windows, and there’s movement inside. I don’t bother looking. Nothing can distract me from this evening. From whatever Danielle has laid out for me.

  I trudge onward and torchlight draws my gaze. There’s a blanket laid out on the beach, and two figures sit on it.

  One of them is Danielle. The other is my brother. Neither of them wear masks, and I rip mine off and drop it.

  Heat flushes through me—I haven’t seen him since we were pulled apart this morning—and it takes everything inside me not to lash out. Not to tackle him again.

  He’s sitting so close to her. Too close.

  Fuck it. Rein it in. Be a fucking man and find out what she wants.

  Did they plan this together? Is this their plan? They’re going to sit me down and tell me that they’ve chosen to be together.

  I picture myself returning to New York, to my empty home, and waiting for Jessie’s return. Alone. She’ll have questions for me, she’ll ask about her nansy, and I’ll explain it away, but it will fucking claw at my insides.

  Fuck, I should never have come here.

  I haven’t moved since I spotted them a few feet away.

  Danielle stands, holding a glass of wine. “Please. Holden, please. Please come over here. Let’s talk about this.”

  Her voice draws me closer. I push off and force myself to meet her.

  She hugs me, pulls her body to mine, and I respond immediately, inhale the scent of her hair, rest my palm on the small of her back.

  Danielle wears a gorgeous, glitzy silver dress that clings to her body. The material looks wet, and it’s cool to the touch. Two cups accentuate and elevate her breasts. She’s flawless, as usual, her caramel hair twisted into a loose knot atop her head.

  I help her sit again, then position myself opposite the pair of them, my bare feet resting on the towel, my wrists resting on my knees. “What’s this?” I ask.

  Danielle hands me a glass of wine from a small table behind her.

  I take it but don’t drink. “Danielle?”

  “It’s what I have to do,” she replies, and inhales. Her breasts expand beneath that silvery-wet dress and her nipples brush the fabric.

  Joey’s watching her, too, closely.

  I drink the wine to distract myself.

  “We’re here to talk about the future.” Dani shoots Joey a look. It shares too much, that glance, as if they’re in on some secret and I’m not.

  I grip the glass a little too hard, and wine slops onto my shirt. I curse and wedge the wine glass in the sand beside me, then unbutton and strip. I toss the ruined garment aside then pick my wine up again.

  I’m bare-chested now, and Danielle’s gaze traces my tattoos, my pecs, my abs. Joey doesn’t say a fucking word. He’s got to hate her looking at me at least as much as I hate her sitting so close to him.

  I offer him a tight smile. He doesn’t return it.

  “I’ve got some things to say.” Danielle sets her wine glass down, too. “And that’s why we’re here tonight. I—Please, neither of you interrupt me until I’m done. And no fighting. I’m sure you’ll want to come back here someday, with or without me.”

  My heart leaps. With her?

  “Can you agree not to fight?”

  “Yes,” Joey says.

  “Yes.” I wipe my hands down my jeans, then shift so I’m kneeling. Better to shove myself up from this position, in case Joey goes back on the no-fighting agreement.

  “Good,” she says. “OK, I’m really nervous.” She titters a laugh. “So, here’s the thing. I love you, Holden.”

  Fuck yes. Mine. She’s always been mine.

  “And I do understand everything we’ve spoken about. Your family is important to you, and I don’t want to ruin that. I don’t want to ever do anything to hurt your daughter or complicate things for her or you.”

  “Thank you,” I say, and I mean it. “Is there a ‘but’ in this equation?”

  “Yes. That’s why we’re here.” Danielle drags her teeth across her bottom lip, then pops it out. So full, so tempting. “I understand that it’s an ultimatum for you. I stay with you and wait, or I leave you alone.”

  Fuck, the thought of her leaving makes me sweat.

  “And if I leave, you don’t want me near Joey either.” Danielle inhales three tiny breaths, then releases them in one long flow. Around us, it’s quiet. The cabana nearby is unmanned, for once—it’s nearing the end of the weekend and everyone’s up at the main hall partying or fucking in private.

  “That’s correct,” I say.

  Joey shifts, and his upper lip twitches.

  “But that’s a problem for me,” Danielle says, and she chokes up a little. “Because I’m falling for Joey, too.”

  I open my mouth, but she holds up a hand.

  “Let me finish,” she says.

  It takes all my willpower not to get up and fucking walk away. If I do, I’ll regret it. I understand that. I stay because of it, but I’m still on the cusp. One push and I’ll fuck off, heartbreak or not.

  “You’re different in so many ways,” she says. “You’re unique. Joey is hot, he’s got a temper, he’s passionate, but he cares. You’re controlled, you’re cool-headed and in control, and you love your family life. Both of you have pieces of my heart because of it.” Tears stream down her cheeks, and Joey shifts again, this time closer to her, his brow wrinkled. Mine does the same.

  Danielle crying sobers me. I push away my anger and my ego and focus on her, totally.

  “You’re two sides of the same coin, and I know it’s too
much to ask to have you both, but that’s what I want, OK? I want to be able to love you both. I want to—” She cuts off and breaks down, burying her face in her hands.

  Joey takes her left hand, lifts it, kisses it. “It’s OK,” he rumbles.

  “It’s not OK,” she says. “It’s so selfish of me to love you both. To want you both. But I do. I love you so completely. God.” She coughs and slurps, then reaches for a serviette on the wicker table behind her. Joey gets to it before her and hands it over. She wipes her nose. “Gross.” She manages a weak laugh. “Sorry.”

  “You don’t need to be sorry,” I say.

  They both look over at me, her with a measure of small hope and Joey with something else. Whatever it is, it isn’t anger. Maybe, he’s past it. Is my little—one minute, ha—brother actually more mature about this than I am?

  He clearly cares for her. He’s worried about her crying, fetching her tissues and shit. Where I’m the hard bastard sitting on the other side of the blanket.

  I can’t control everything.

  That’s what’s clear here.

  I can’t control how Danielle feels. I can’t only decide what I want to do about this situation.

  “I won’t leave you, Danielle,” I say, moving across to her left side. I cup her cheek in one hand. “Don’t cry. I love you.” I draw her lips to mine and kiss her, long and hard.

  Danielle’s tears wet her lips, but I lick them up, taste the saltiness and kiss her harder. She gasps against my mouth. “I love you, too,” she whispers, then turns her head away. “And I love you, Joey.”

  It should fuck me up inside hearing those words, but it doesn’t.

  All I care about is how happy she is. Is she OK? Will she stop crying?

  Danielle’s pain is more important than anything I’m feeling. She doesn’t want to be selfish, even though I’ve been exactly that this entire weekend. I’ve pushed her away, then pulled her closer, demanded her faithfulness, but told her to wait.

  I’m the dick here, not my brother.

  At least he was honest with himself.

  I slide my hand down Danielle’s cheek, her throat, her collarbone, then cup her breast through that wet-silver fabric, trace the outline of her nipple with my thumb.