Tempt Me: A First Class Romance Collection

by Jessica Hawkins

  Good God.

  The kitchen.

  It was a dream with its butcher block island, huge oven, and farm-style sink. That small table that was my vantage through the window was nestled in the middle of the two rooms.

  “This is unbelievable.”

  Suddenly, I was remembering Lillith telling me how he’d grown a small construction company into the biggest contractor in the area.

  I spun around. “You did this?”

  Discomfort rippled across his gorgeous face, something humble and vulnerable showing through the rigid veneer. “It’s kind of what I do.”

  “You definitely do a good job of it.” I didn’t mean to whisper it, didn’t mean to get locked in his stare, didn’t mean for my mouth to go dry, or my belly to tumble and twist and flip with the most foolish kind of butterflies.

  Because his jaw clenched, and his spine went rigid with my compliment.

  Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I forced myself to turn away and take a breath. To get myself together. I set the pie on the counter and turned back around. “I’m sorry to barge in the way I did. I just wanted to say thank you. I really hope you enjoy the pie. I know my grandma would have wanted you to have it.”

  I started to make my escape, when Frankie snagged my pinky finger in her tiny fist, her voice just as excited as ever. “You wants to see my room?”

  My eyes darted to Rex.

  That same anger from the first day, the anger I couldn’t make sense of, the anger that seemed barely contained, flamed in his eyes. Glints of fire beneath the ornate pendant lights.

  I could barely force out the words. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea right now. I think it’s past your bedtime.”

  “Oh, oh, I know. You can reads me my bedtime story. How’s that sound? You wanna read with me? Can she, Daddy?” She was grinning at her dad, one hundred percent oblivious to the sudden rage I could see crawl just beneath the surface of his tanned skin, the muscles ticking as he stared me down.

  “I—”

  “Oh, please, please, please.”

  I looked at Rex for help, already knowing I was so far out of bounds. My mission taking me too deep into enemy territory, and I’d tripped a bomb.

  But somehow, he softened when he looked down at her. As if the little hurricane was his calm. “Five minutes, Frankie Leigh, then lights out.”

  “All right, Daddy. Five minutes,” she promised with a resolute nod. She turned and hauled me toward the hall that opened right between the living room and kitchen, just on the other side of the table.

  I stumbled along behind her, chancing a glance over my shoulder to look at her father.

  Fear.

  It was so blatant beneath that hard, rigid, beautiful exterior that it clamped down on my chest, a fist on my heart.

  The terror in his expression tore through me like a storm.

  Whipping and rending.

  I pried my gaze away and followed Frankie into her room, wondering what on earth I’d actually hoped I’d achieve when I’d decided to bake him a pie.

  What I knew for sure was this wasn’t it. Not that it mattered. That fist on my heart squeezed with soft affection when Frankie turned around and lifted her arms out to her sides.

  Pure pride as she offered me all the pink.

  “You likes it? My daddy let me helps him paint all the walls, and he took me to the store and let me picks my blankies and my drawers and ever’fing! Did you knows I been painting, and I’m gonna be a painter? My grammy says so.”

  My gaze traced the walls. Walls that were pink. More than pink. Wisped with the hints of fairy tales and happily ever afters, the faintest outlines of rainbows and unicorns and princesses lost in the strokes of color.

  Delicately.

  Carefully.

  Beautifully.

  At the bottom of one wall was a mess of color, choppy strokes and splotches so clearly added by a tiny hand.

  Oh my God. Who was this man?

  Frankie dropped to her knees in front of a bookcase and pulled free a thin, worn book, waving it in the air. “This one’s my favorite.”

  “Stellaluna?” I asked, a small smile ticking up at the corner of my mouth when I saw the adorable bat on the cover, the story totally unfamiliar.

  “Uh-huh.”

  She scrambled onto her bed. “You reads it.”

  I knelt by the edge of her bed. “Okay.”

  I opened it and began to read, that lump in my throat growing as I read each page. There was something about the way Frankie listened, quieted and subdued, glued to the words that tumbled from my tongue as I read about a baby bat that’d lost its mother and was raised by a mother bird, only to be reunited with its mother at the end, remaining friends with the birds who’d welcomed it to their nest.

  Why did I feel like I might cry when I finished the last page? It was a happy ending, after all. But it was still there, heavy in the air when I looked back at Frankie. She had her sheet pulled up to her chin and was clutching the material. “Did you know I lost my mommy, too?”

  She whispered it like a secret.

  Like trust.

  I guessed that was what I’d come seeking, but I was wholly unprepared for this kind of offering. My hand was trembling when I reached out and lovingly ran my knuckles down the side of her face. “I’m so sorry, Frankie. I lost my mommy when I was little, too.”

  Her eyes went wide. “You did?”

  “Yeah.”

  Her voice dipped even lower. “Did you finds her?”

  “No. I tried to, but I don’t think she wanted to be found. But guess what? My grandma loved me so, so much, and she took such good care of me so I didn’t have to be sad.”

  She smiled the sweetest smile, and that fist on my heart squeezed. Squeezed and squeezed so hard it made it difficult to breathe. “My daddy takes good care of me and loves me so, so much.”

  “He seems like a good daddy.”

  Vigorously, she nodded.

  Leaning forward, I set a soft kiss on her forehead, knowing I had to get out of there before I lost myself any further. “I better go. Five minutes are up, and you need to get to sleep.”

  “Okay,” she whispered, staring up at me, our noses two inches apart.

  I smiled, getting drawn deeper into the heart of this little girl before I forced myself to stand. My footsteps slowed as I walked across her room. I flipped off the light and went to pull her door closed, but at the last second, I left it open a crack. Almost instinctively.

  Quietly, I edged down the hall, slowed by the turbulent silence bound to the atmosphere.

  I pressed my hands to my tremoring belly when I saw Rex standing in the middle of the kitchen. The expression he wore promised he’d overheard the conversation Frankie and I had shared.

  Broken, splintered fury.

  It poured from him in a torrent of agony.

  “I’ll just go,” I mumbled.

  Dropping my head, I started for the door, unsure if I was cowering or if I was just staggered by what I’d unwittingly forced my way into. I felt like a fool. Naïve and reckless. Because I’d come seeking something I hadn’t understood.

  And I’d just stumbled into the awareness that their lives were pieced together precariously.

  Fragilely.

  A tender, loving, imperfect balance.

  It would only take one misstep to send everything toppling over.

  I reached for the latch when I felt the flurry of intensity slide up behind me, the tension suffocating, the movement stealing the air from the room.

  I spun around, my back plastered to the door as he approached.

  Coming closer and closer.

  He wasn’t touching me.

  But he might as well have been.

  He rested a hand on the door above my head, his face dipping toward mine, his words a breathy grunt at my ear. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing to me, Rynna?”

  Lust and confusion trembled through my bones, this man pushing me away and t
hen drawing me closer.

  I thought maybe neither of us could ignore it.

  The overpowering attraction.

  Because the fever in my veins ignited a fire in my belly.

  Torrid.

  Blistering.

  No words would form on my tongue.

  “Tell me, Rynna. What do you want with us?” he murmured, low and rough. “Because I don’t have anything to offer you, and I won’t let you take anything else from us.”

  I attempted to process what he said, what he meant.

  But I couldn’t focus. Couldn’t see. Could feel nothing but the heat radiating between us.

  Wave after blinding wave.

  I gasped a breath, and he inched closer, a single knee wedging between my legs. He planted both hands on the door above my head.

  Caging me in.

  I felt it when he gave, the strangled sound that left him on a groan when he pressed against me.

  The man was so hard.

  So big.

  So overwhelming.

  That bottled heat reached a boiling point. Desire throbbed, lighting up between my thighs.

  “Oh . . . God.” I whimpered when he rubbed his cock against my hip.

  A desperate sound rumbled through the strength of his chest.

  A hand was suddenly on my jaw, thumb under my chin, tipping my face up to meet the ferocity in his gaze.

  Rage and restraint and desire. I couldn’t decipher what was happening. The push and the pull. The hatred and the need.

  I could barely speak. “I . . . I thought maybe you could use a friend.”

  “Told you I already have all the friends I need.”

  Frustration bled free, my words a quieted plea. “Fine, Rex. You don’t need any more friends, but maybe I do. And maybe, just maybe, I don’t want to ignore this.”

  My hand curled in his shirt. The beat of his heart was wild beneath my hold, the energy severe.

  A brilliant, neon tether that burned between us.

  A live wire.

  Electric.

  His jaw clenched, and he rocked against my thigh. His fingers sank into my sides, as if he didn’t know whether to pull me closer or force me away. “This is wrong, Rynna. You can’t do this to me.”

  “Do what?” I whispered.

  “Make me want you.”

  “Why?”

  Pain wrenched his face.

  I struggled for the words, finally forcing them into the dense air. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you. You think I don’t see it? That you’ve been hurt enough?”

  His thick throat bobbed. “You don’t know me, Rynna.”

  “And that’s why I’m here. Because I want to.”

  Regret seized his expression, and he peeled himself away, putting space between us. “I can’t.”

  My spirit coiled in rejection, and those old insecurities flared. Vying for dominance. I drove them back, refusing their chains. “Because you’re afraid or because you don’t want me?”

  Releasing a jolt of bitter laughter, he raked both hands over his face. “It’s a little more complicated than that.”

  “You can tell me, Rex.”

  He shook his head. “You should go home. It’s getting late.”

  Disappointment gusted through me. Heavy and oppressive. “Maybe you’re just a coward.”

  He flinched, and I turned away and pulled open the door. I started to step out when his voice hit me from behind.

  “You know what it feels like to be left behind, Rynna?” There was a plea behind it.

  I slowly turned back to look at him.

  His hands were in his jean pockets, surrender on his face, begging me to grasp something he wouldn’t allow me to see.

  I swallowed down everything I wanted to say and instead gave a slow nod of understanding.

  Then I stepped out and quietly latched the door shut behind me.

  The second I stepped outside, I was swamped with the clear memories of it. Because all too well, I knew the feeling of being left behind.

  Rynna – Five Years Old

  Cold gusts of wind whipped through the playground. Laughter floated on its wings from where groups of children ran through the fields, playing in their heavy winter coats.

  My head was drooped between my shoulders, my hands close to freezing where I had them wrapped around the metal chains. The tips of my toes barely touched the scooped out dirt, and I dug them in, slowly rocking myself on the swing.

  I glanced up as a group of girls raced by.

  Laughing.

  Giggling.

  My chest felt funny and my tummy hurt.

  I looked up when a shadow suddenly blocked the sun.

  A smile wanted to climb to my mouth, but I didn’t know how to make it shine.

  “Corinne Paisley,” my grandmother said so softly. She knelt down in front of me and covered my freezing hands.

  “Gramma.”

  “Why aren’t you playin’, child?”

  “They don’t like me.”

  She frowned. “What do you mean, they don’t like you? You got the invitation. That means the birthday girl wanted you here.”

  I quieted my voice. “They said I’m too slow.”

  My grandmother huffed. “Too slow? You’re the fastest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  I shook my head and clung tighter to the chains. “No, Gramma.”

  My grandmother brushed her knuckles down my cheek, hooked her index finger under my chin, and forced me to look in her knowing eyes. “Why do you say that?”

  That feeling in my tummy was back. It hurt and made me feel like I might throw up. “I couldn’t catch her, Gramma. I couldn’t catch Mama. I ran so fast . . . but I couldn’t catch her.”

  My grandmother stood and stretched out her hand. “Come on, child. Let’s go home.”

  10

  Rex

  I jerked up to sitting. Darkness played against the walls, my bedroom lit with the faintest hue of the moon streaming in through the crack in the curtains. I blinked away the edge of sleep I’d been riding, shaking off the nightmare that drenched my skin with sweat, glancing at the clock that told me it was just passed three a.m. on Monday morning.

  This time . . . this time, it wasn’t the dream that’d pulled me from sleep.

  I tilted my head and focused on the faint sound that seeped into my room.

  Crying.

  That was all it took for me to throw back my covers and jump to my feet. I flew out my door and through Frankie’s, skidding to a stop at the side of her bed.

  She wasn’t fully awake, just tossing and whimpering in her shallow sleep.

  “Shh . . . what’s wrong, Sweet Pea?” I urged, voice a whisper as I was reaching for her, brushing back the hair matted to her forehead.

  A flash of terror jolted up my spine.

  She was hot.

  I pressed my palm against her forehead.

  Her skin was sticky with sweat.

  Shit. She was burning up.

  She blinked, her eyes searching for me in the shadows. “I don’t feels good, Daddy.”

  I scooped her into my arms, pressing a bunch of kisses to her temple like the action alone had the power to soothe away any discomfort she might feel. Fighting the panic that churned within me, I carried her into my room, flipped on the light switch, and headed straight for the attached bathroom, flipping that light on, too.

  Frankie blinked against the brightness.

  “Sorry, Sweet Pea,” I muttered, setting her on the counter but keeping one hand on her while I rifled through the medicine cabinet to find the thermometer. “What hurts?” I asked as I fumbled to get the plastic guard on the earpiece.

  “Ev’ryfing.”

  My hands were shaking, and it took me for fucking ever to get the damned thing snapped in place. I forced myself to slow, to be careful as I slipped it into her ear, my heart thundering in my chest as I waited the five seconds for it to beep.

  104.3

  Fuck.

  Tha
t panic surged.

  That is bad, right?

  Truth was, Frankie’s health wasn’t a gamble I’d ever take.

  I gave her a dose of Tylenol then grabbed a washcloth from the linen closet, ran it under cool water, and pressed it to her forehead. I held it there as I picked her back up and carried her out to my bed, laying her on it. “Hang on one sec, Frankie. Daddy’s going to make sure you get all better.”

  She just gave me a trusting nod and curled up on her side, clinging a little tighter to the doll she was always dragging around. I slipped into a tee, jeans, and a pair of shoes, before I had her back in my arms, grabbing my keys and wallet from the entryway table, and rushing her out into the night.

  The hour was deep, moon hanging midway on the horizon, peeking out from behind a streak of wispy clouds stretched in front of it. I wrenched open the back door of my truck and got her into her booster seat, buckled her quickly, and jogged around to the front. I slid the key into the ignition and turned it.

  The engine cranked but didn’t turn over.

  “Shit,” I muttered under my breath. I pumped the accelerator and tried the ignition again.

  A slow dread sank in with the realization.

  Fuck.

  The cabin lights hadn’t illuminated when I’d opened the doors. I glanced up. The overhead light switch was still set to on.

  Fuck.

  Frankie had asked for the light so she could look at a book when we were driving back from the lake on Saturday night, and I’d forgotten to switch it off. Leave it to my old-as-shit truck. Or just to me.

  The battery was dead.

  “Shit.” I drummed my thumbs on the wheel, calculating just how long it would take me to get the battery charger out of the shed to juice this thing up, when my attention snagged in the rearview mirror.

  The sleeping house behind us was bathed in a shallow pool of moonlight, the windows darkened and encased in silence.

  The woman probably hated me.

  At least she should.

  I still couldn’t believe the dick move I’d pulled two nights ago, the way I couldn’t stop from pressing myself against her, taking a little bit of what I couldn’t have.

  I knew better.

  But I couldn’t stop after I had heard what’d gone down in Frankie’s room. That quiet understanding that had poured from Rynna, like she might actually have the ability to get what me and Frankie had been through. Like maybe she’d been through some of the same bullshit, too.