* * * * *
“Or maybe you know me too well.” Christ. She thought he’d want her to kill their child. “Your husband always said I was an asshole.” And she’d agreed.
“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just such a change in a person’s life. I know that. It wouldn’t be fair for me to force it on you.”
“So you didn’t let me choose.” He wasn’t angry. He couldn’t define what he felt. He was the other man. He was transitory. He’d wanted to be so much more. And now there was a child between them. It was almost too much to take in.
“I wanted to save you the embarrassment.”
“Embarrassment?” The word came out like a bark. He leaned in close. “I fucked you in a car. I fucked you while you talked on the phone with your husband. I fucked you on camera while he watched. I don’t embarrass easily.” He let the anger wash over him. It was better than hopelessness.
“Look, I don’t know how to explain.”
He closed his eyes because the sight of her face hurt. Her gorgeous face, her glorious hair, her pretty eyes. There was so much he’d intended to say. I love you, I want you, I need you. But it was meaningless. Now she’d have to take him for the sake of her child. And she would do that.
He knew he would, too. But he’d wanted her to love him as well.
He looked over her head, at the trees, the squirrel on a power line, the clouds drifting in the blue sky. “It’s my child. I’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of the baby.”
“I don’t want you to take care of us.”
He looked down again, her face so close, her scent so sweet. “Neither of us has a choice.” For the first time in so many years, he wanted a woman to love him back. But he would take what he could get. “We’ll get married as soon as you’re divorced.”
She stepped back, her eyes widening with shock. “Married?”
What the fuck, why not tell her? Say it. Pour it out. Let her have it.
“I love you. I want this child. So help me God, I will make you love me back. I know I can. I don’t care how long it takes.”
She didn’t say a word, just stared at him, lips slightly parted.
He took advantage, wrapped his hand around her nape, reeled her in, and kissed her hard. Long. Sweet. Until she put her tongue in his mouth. Until she kissed him back, her arms curled around his neck and her body pressed against him. Until her breath filled his heart.
“I already love you back,” she whispered against his mouth.
Something broke open inside him, and her words filled a space that had been empty for thirty years. She was his. He would never let anything bad happen to her or their child.
* * * * *
Keith pulled aside the lacy curtain in Alison’s front window. He didn’t recognize the car across the street, but he recognized the man driving it. Spencer Benedict had brought Zoe to this meeting with her soon-to-be-ex-husband.
“Do you want some wine, Dad?” Alison called from the kitchen.
“Sure, honey.”
Alison was a doer. When she’d figured out Zoe was gone, she’d pestered him for details until he told her everything. Well, the skeleton of everything. She’d immediately run to Zoe, and after she’d seen her this morning, Alison arranged this little get-together. To talk everything out.
Yes, his daughter was a doer. She was trying to figure out how she could keep both her father and her soon-to-be-ex-stepmother.
Alison always got what she wanted.
He stared out the front window.
In the two weeks since Zoe had walked out, Keith had been deciding what to do. In hindsight, he could say he’d overreacted to her relationship with Spencer Benedict. He’d freaked out that he would lose her, that he’d be left alone. Given time, he would have relented, let them go on seeing each other. But the pregnancy changed everything. He didn’t want to raise another child. So that meant he couldn’t have Zoe. He was going to miss her. He’d miss all the things they did together, the quiet nights, the friendship. He loved Zoe, but maybe one of his problems was that he didn’t love deeply enough.
Which is why he would never admit to anyone that after the first week on his own, after he’d gotten over the terror of actually being alone after fifteen years of marriage, he’d settled into a routine. He could do what he wanted when he wanted. He’d fantasized about becoming a sugar daddy for a younger woman who let him watch her have sex with other men. He knew most people would think he was sick. Maybe he was. But he’d lost Zoe, so he didn’t have much choice but to carry on. He’d resolved the estate issue at work without a lawsuit, and he would resolve his personal issues as well. It would just take time to get used to his new situation.
“Here you go, Dad.” Alison crossed the carpet to hand him his wine.
Keith moved away from the window before she could see what he’d been looking at. He didn’t want her noticing the other man out in the car. A scene would be unpleasant.
He took the wine, drank, but not too deeply. Life would go on. It had before. It would just be different. And he’d get used to it. He always had.
* * * * *
“I can come in with you, baby.”
Spence had driven her to Alison’s house. Keith’s car was already in the driveway. Zoe was sick again, and it had nothing to do with the baby.
“I need to do this on my own.” The only reason she knew she could do it was because she had him to come home to.
He loved her. He wanted the baby. It felt like a fairytale. Or a fantasy. She wasn’t sure she deserved to be happy. But he’d reminded her that she hadn’t cheated, she’d done the things Keith thought he wanted. There was no one to blame. Things had just…happened. She’d had to make a choice, and she’d chosen to keep her child. It was the right choice, the only choice.
“It’s going to be hard,” she said, her voice low.
Spence covered her cold hand with his. “I know. Not just tonight, but all along the way. Every time you have to tell someone what happened. Every time you feel like you need to explain.”
He understood. He realized that his load was much easier. She was the slut. He was just the man who’d gotten to taste her delights. Because she was not telling anyone about the arrangement she and Keith had had for the last three years. Alison knew, and her stepdaughter was the only person she would ever tell.
“I’ll be here whenever it gets hard.” He leaned close, breathed life back into her with his warm lips against her ear.
There was the divorce. She’d have to talk to Keith about that. She’d have to tell him she was moving into Spence’s house. There were still so many more confessions to make.
But Spence would be here. “I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you right back, baby.”
She hugged him hard, dug her fingers into his arms as if they were solid rock instead of flesh. That’s what he’d become, her rock.
She pulled back. “Okay. I’m ready.”
“I’ll be right here waiting for you.”
She knew he always would be. He hadn’t loved another woman since he was practically a boy. But he loved her. He’d waited all these years to commit to her.
He wasn’t just the other man. He was her man.
Thank you for reading. Please consider leaving a review for this book.
Look for the previous books in the series:
Revenge, West Coast, Book 1
Submitting to the Boss, West Coast, Book 2
The Boss’s Daughter, West Coast, Book 3
And really, what is going on between the chairman of the board and his personal secretary Miss Dawson? Find out in Pleasing Mr. Sutton coming 2014.
Don’t miss Jasmine’s next release from Berkley Heat, The Naughty Corner, Oct 2013, followed by Book 1, Teach Me a Lesson in April 2014
Enjoy the following excerpts and meet the author!
Invitation to Seduction
Dead to the Max
She’s Gotta Be Mine
About the Author
Invitation to Seduction Excerpt
Here’s a taste of Jasmine’s steamy Open Invitation series.
Invitation to Seduction
Open Invitation, Book 1
Copyright 2012 Jasmine Haynes
Cover design by Rae Monet Inc
Previously published in 2006 in the Open Invitation anthology
Here’s your invitation to The Sex Club, elegant, classy, sexy, every woman’s fantasy, every man’s desire...
When her best friend drags her out to a bachelorette party, Debbie Carter knows one thing for sure—this will be the last time she'll try to attract the opposite sex. She's learned the hard way that she isn't desirable anymore. But when she flirts with a man at The Sex Club, she gets far more than she bargained for, and the game she plays soon turns to obsession for the fire in one man’s touch. Will she have to choose between the love of her life and her secure, safe, yet intolerable existence.
Stephen Knight enters the club looking for the woman he has fallen for over email and through her art work. She's everything he's ever dreamed of and seeing her in the flesh makes him desire her physically as well. As her passion comes to life in his arms, Stephen's lust turns to love. Wanting far more from her than a few nights of seduction, can he make her believe in forever?
Excerpt
“It’s a veritable mansion.” Virginia, seated in the backseat, rolled down her window. For the outing, she’d worn a peach silk suit, the skirt covering her to her knees. Next to Stacy, and Debbie in her sexy borrowed skirt and blouse, Virginia looked like a maiden aunt. Yet this place had been her choice, though Debbie thought The Sex Club was way out of character for Virginia.
Set amid a grove of eucalyptus at the end of a long, sloping drive, with the moon providing the only illumination, the house looked like something out of a Vincent Price movie. A hulking behemoth over three stories high, with dormer windows at presumably the attic level. No lights filled any of the windows. No valet parking attendants swarmed about the wide stone porch. Not a single living soul moved; not even a curtain flickered.
“It’s so quiet,” Virginia said, “it’s almost creepy.”
Stacy huffed. “It’s private. And exclusive. What did you expect, floodlights and a marching band?”
Debbie didn’t find the mansion creepy. Excitement rippled through her at the sight of it. The Sex Club’s mystery made her blood pump faster and her nipples harden. Moisture gathered between her thighs. The darkness beckoned, promised seduction, secrecy, and fantasy fulfillment. Just fantasy, she didn’t have to do anything. Observe, pretend for a little while. Jaywalk over to the wild side for a night. The clingy black top and skirt Stacy had loaned her, the high heels and stockings with garter belt, even the truly outrageous shade of vermillion Stacy had painted on her nails, all fit her blossoming mood. She’d walked out of her home with the promise to herself that something spectacular was going to happen. Something that would make her feel alive. This was a night for magic and a house that invited it.
Some gorgeous man was going to seduce her with nothing more than a look. Of course, she wouldn’t act on it, but she would believe, for one night, that she was gorgeous, sexy, and desirable. She wanted to add to her store of fantasies that could be put to good use when she was going mad for an orgasm.
Stacy maneuvered the car into the parking garage—which turned out to be under the house—pulled into a spot, and turned off the engine. Porsches, Jags, and BMWs dominated in the underground lot. Sex appeared to be for the rich, at least here.
“Virginia, the invitations, please.” Stacy waggled her fingers, her French manicure gleaming in the shaft of overhead light falling through the windshield.
Virginia pulled the stack of cream-colored envelopes from her purse. Stacy took them with a flourish. “Now, ladies, here are the rules. It’s invitation only the first time. After that, women are allowed in without it. Or sometimes a woman might be sent an invitation by a very special someone.” She arched a brow and smiled, which made Debbie think Stacy’d been honored with a special invite at one time or another.
“But men,” Stacy went on, “must always have an invitation or they don’t get in. That excludes horn-dog frat boys who don’t know a clitoris from a hole in the wall and aren’t willing to spend the time to learn. We don’t use real names. We do use condoms. They have bowls of them all over the place. Like candy dishes. We say no to whatever we don’t want, and we say yes to whatever we do. If somebody bugs you, you tell an attendant, and the offending party bites the dust. Got it?”
With all the talk about clitorises and condoms, Debbie glanced back at Virginia. She was getting married tomorrow in Las Vegas. Was she out simply for a night of titillation before settling down? Or did she plan on something more? Titillation, Debbie decided, or Virginia would have chosen a more provocative outfit than the peach suit.
Stacy flipped through the gold-labeled envelopes in her lap. “This one’s mine. Serena.” She put a hand to her sequined chest. “I look like a Serena, don’t you think?” Serena could do anything she wanted, she had that kind of feminine power.
She handed the second invitation to Virginia. “Regina.”
Virginia wrinkled her nose. “I was going to say something about that earlier. It reminds me a little of vagina.”
Stacy smiled. “Depends on how you say it when you introduce yourself, darling.” Then she got to the last envelope.
Debbie held her breath.
“Desiree.”
Debbie held the invitation lightly in her fingers, the name embossed in gold. Desiree. Desire. “I like it,” she whispered. “So this is the name we give if anyone asks?”
Stacy gave her the once-over. “Everyone’s going to ask. No real names, remember.”
Debbie traced the raised lettering. “This place must cost a fortune to get into. You haven’t asked for any money.”
“The first time, you’re a guest.” Stacy held her gaze.
“The first time?”
“Almost everyone comes back.”
Debbie felt the challenge in the statement. For a moment, she got the distinct impression that Stacy knew her entire marital history, even the months and years between lovemaking. She’d given herself away somehow, though she couldn’t remember even hinting at her problem.
Stacy turned in her seat. “We can stick together or we split off. But we’ll meet back in the lobby at midnight.” She checked her thin gold watch. “That gives us three hours.”
Virginia just smiled, a secretive smile Debbie could swear she’d never seen before.
Stacy yanked on her door handle. “Well, ladies, let’s see where the night leads us.”
If you enjoyed this excerpt, look for Invitation to Seduction, Open Invitation, Book 1. Then comes Invitation to Pleasure (Virginia’s story) and Invitation to Passion (Stacy’s story).
Erotic Romance by Jasmine Haynes:
Somebody’s Lover, The Jackson Brothers, Book 1
Somebody’s Ex, The Jackson Brothers, Book 2
Somebody’s Wife, The Jackson Brothers, Book 3
Twisted by Love, Reincarnation Tales, Book 1
Kinky Neighbors
Kinky Neighbors Two
Double the Pleasure, Prescott Twins, Book 1
Skin Deep, Prescott Twins, Book 2
Take Your Pleasure
Take Your Pick
Anthology: Beauty or the Bitch & Free Fall
The Naughty Corner
Teach Me A Lesson
Past Midnight
What Happens After Dark
The Principal’s Office
Yours for the Night
Hers for the Evening
Mine Until Morning
The Fortune Hunter
Show and Tell
Fair Game
More Than a Night
Dead to the Max Excerpt
Try a sample of Jasmine Haynes’s Max Starr Series, an erotic paranormal mystery/romance.
Thirty-something, down
-on-her-luck accountant Max Starr has the unfortunate gift of being psychic, a newly-discovered wrinkle in her already messed-up life. Her husband, Cameron, is dead, killed in a botched 7-11 robbery two years ago. She’s cut herself off from friends, moved out of her San Francisco home in favor of a studio apartment, and dumped her flourishing career as a CPA to do temp work.
And now Max has developed an annoying penchant for attracting the spirits of murdered women. Okay, they possess her. And to exorcize them, Max must unmask their killers. But how?! By stepping into the void their deaths created, taking their jobs, befriending the loved ones they left behind. Max goes wherever she has to go and does whatever she has to do, with a lot of help from the ghost of her late husband Cameron and hunky and very enticing Detective Witt Long.
Excerpt from Dead to the Max, Book 1
Copyright 2010 Jasmine Haynes
Cover design by Rae Monet Inc
She’d dressed in a long, black skirt and white blouse, flawlessly pressed. She was perfect. The perfect daughter, perfect wife, and perfect employee.
Tonight she longed to be the perfect lover. They’d stolen quick, furtive moments together, but this was the first time she would have all night with her lover. Her body hummed, with anticipation, with guilt, with fear.
She’d parked her silver Maxima in the farthest corner of the San Francisco International Airport long-term lot, then caught the shuttle bus to the terminal building. She’d done everything he asked. Except wait outside the terminal. She wasn’t supposed to pace in front of the arrivals monitor, trying to decide if she liked the anxiety, the foreboding.
She slipped her wedding band and sapphire engagement ring into the inside pocket of her leather purse. His plane was five minutes late. Checking the arrival time for his flight one last time, she crumpled the bit of green paper with the flight information he’d given her, threw it on top of an already full trash can, then walked to the lounge area to take a seat.
The Other Man (West Coast Hotwifing) Page 19
