Forbidden Soulmates_A Steamy Hot Revenge Romance

by Melissa Devenport

  Jay’s fingers became slick and slid easily over her sex, right to her entrance. She tensed, waiting for him to slip a finger inside, but he skirted away, deciding to torture her instead.

  She tried to force him by digging her heels into his ass. It didn’t work. He continued to tease her while she ground her ass into the counter and thrust her hips into his hand, grinding herself against his fingers, trying so desperately to still the roaring ache that had been pulsing inside her all afternoon.

  “I want you to fuck me, Jay. Now. Please.” She knew the word drove him wild. He liked when she talked to him like that and she only ever gave in and did it when she wanted to fray whatever rope held his self-control together.

  He let out a sharp groan. “Oh god, Laya. What about dinner?”

  “If you truly cared about dinner, your pants would still be on and you wouldn’t have your hand wrapped around your-”

  He stepped against her and brought her forward with his other hand. She let out a sigh that she couldn’t keep contained when he pressed the tip of his cock against her soaking entrance. He slid in easily and filled her, gave her exactly what she needed.

  She moved against him, rocking her hips forward and back, even as he started thrusting. His hands fell to her waist and he ground her hard, harder, rocked her almost violently before pushing her back. He created a rhythm that drove her mad, drove her into utter insanity. She clung to the counter, trying desperately to support herself with trembling arms.

  The heat built inside of her, spread through her limbs, pooled in her stomach and finally burst in a heady rush that left her gasping. The waves of her climax kept right on coming. Over and over, until she screamed Jay’s name. He came a second later, filling her up with hot jets. When he’d finally believed her about being on the pill, he was much more relaxed. It wasn’t like the first time, where he didn’t know her enough to trust her.

  He slumped forward, caving in against her and the counter. She wrapped her arms around his neck and drew them together. She brought his face to hers and kissed him sweetly, lingering on the lips that she loved so very much to kiss.

  “Jay…” she panted as she pulled away. “I… do you believe in soulmates?”

  His eyes darkened, but his face gave nothing away. “What do you mean?” he finally asked, when he recovered enough to catch his breath.

  “Exactly what it sounds like. Do you- do you believe that maybe we could have been right for each other right from the start?”

  “I don’t believe in destiny. You know that.”

  “I know you don’t believe in fate or any of the typical romance stuff. It’s corny. Even I know it’s corny. I don’t feel that way with you. With you, it just feels like it was always meant to be. It felt right from the minute I met you, even though I didn’t know it. My body knew it. Or something deeper. Something was drawn to you. A part of me is always going to be drawn to you.”

  “Laya…”

  “Tell me that you didn’t feel the same way. I dare you.”

  He reached up and ran a hand through his hair, mussing the long blond strands. “I- I don’t know what I believe. I’ll admit that it always felt right. I couldn’t get you out of my head. Ever. Is that what you wanted to hear? Does that make a soulmate?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it does. Maybe that feeling of rightness is what it means when you just know someone was meant for you and you were meant for them.”

  “That’s frightening. You know that I don’t even believe in marriage.”

  “I’m not talking about marriage. I’m talking about us. About you and me and… and coming together, like this.” She wriggled her hips. He was still inside of her and she felt him harden fully again. Her body reacted with the single, violent need that it always did.

  “This- I would be a liar if I said I didn’t enjoy this.”

  “And you miss me, when I’m not here?”

  “You’re always here.”

  “When we’re apart, you ache, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” he admitted through ground teeth. His jaw clenched so hard a muscle jumped at the top of his neck, right below his jawbone.

  “Then I think that’s what we are. Soulmates. You could tell me differently, but I won’t believe you. I know what’s in your heart.”

  “Yeah? That so?” Jay leaned down and kissed her hard, nipping her bottom lip sharply. She pulled away, panting, ready to give him whatever he wanted, to match him need for need. “Do soulmates fuck on the kitchen table?”

  “These ones do.” She wrapped her arms around Jay’s neck and let him carry her throughout the kitchen. She knew that once it was over, hours later, they’d be exhausted. Takeout was definitely on the menu. She hoped she could convince Jay to go for Vietnamese instead of pizza this time.

  Jay’s mouth slanted over hers, hard and hungry and wanting and she forgot all about dinner and soulmates. She forgot everything but him and how very right he felt.

  Chapter 16

  The Dinner

  Jay

  The smell of his own cologne was nauseating. Jay didn’t normally wear anything, but the splash of the ultra-manly scent combined with the aftershave, the hair product and his wicked nerves, induced a whole hell of a lot of stomach churning.

  He’d actually got an invite. Or, more apt, Laya finally produced one. Not a physical one. She’d told him a few nights ago that he was invited over for dinner. There was no other conversation about how she’d told her parents about him or if she’d finally just done it because of the near fight they’d had the week before. He wanted to ask her, but he couldn’t. The words lodged in his throat and as usual he was distracted by dazzling smile and sweet kisses and then it hadn’t felt right to bring it up.

  Now that he was on route, driving through neighborhoods where the houses cost more money than he had a hope of seeing in his entire lifetime, he wished he’d forced out the words. Not that it would have helped. He already knew how the dinner was going to go.

  Laya’s parents were going to find out that he was a mechanic and that he’d been raised in a shit part of town by a single mother, the best mother anyone could ask for, and that would be it. He wouldn’t be good enough for their baby girl, their only daughter. No, he was sure Laya’s parents had higher aspirations for their girl than him.

  He wanted better for Laya than him. It was because of her that he was trying to be a better person. He cooked. He cleaned up his house so when she came over it was nice. As nice as it could be, at any rate. He stopped swearing so much. He didn’t make lewd comments about customers at work. And of course, he was on the straight and narrow. He didn’t need to so much as look at another woman, because for him, Laya was it, the only woman in the world worth looking at.

  Since it was a dinner invite and it was a Saturday evening, he hadn’t opted for a suit. Not that he owned one, but he’d actually thought about going out and buying one. He’d thought about the whole black pants, dress shirt, tie deal as well and rejected it. If he was going to dinner, he wanted to be who he was and the Jay he knew hadn’t quite graduated into formal clothing yet.

  Instead, he’d opted for a fresh pair of jeans. The dark denim and a black button up shirt with long sleeves, fresh out of the dry cleaners, was going to have to be good enough. He didn’t want to be overdressed and since he figured what he had on was good enough to go to a wedding, at least any of his friend’s weddings, it was good enough for him.

  When he pulled up to what he could only describe as a sprawling mansion, he wished he’d gone out and bought the damn suit. His stomach clenched and unclenched before cramping again. It twirled and tossed and spun and he was thankful he’d skipped breakfast and lunch. His palms were so sweaty on the wheel that he could barely park his truck.

  He actually drove past the house and down the block before he found a parking spot. He didn’t want Laya’s parents to see his jacked up truck and make natural assumptions. The fact that it seemed like the kind of truck a guy like him would drive, or
what they thought a guy like him would drive, only irked him in a way it shouldn’t have. For the first time in his life, he felt almost ashamed of who he was and he didn’t like it.

  Jay walked down the block, debating with every single step, about turning around and marching his ass right back to his truck. He couldn’t bail on Laya. She wouldn’t understand, especially not after he’d nearly chased her off about not getting an invite.

  The house was a huge, sprawling beast complete with a three car garage, white and gray stone facade, pillars at the entrance, miles of front yard, and he could see from the side, a walk out basement that overlooked a natural, man made lake. The top two stories towered high above the garage. It was the type of architecture that was probably built a few decades ago, but still looked completely sleek and modern. Timeless. Maybe that was the word he was looking for.

  Or maybe I should just stop trying to sound smarter than I am, even in my own damn brain.

  Jay squared his shoulders, glanced down at the freshly polished pair of black square toed dress shoes, the only pair he owned, and checked to make sure that his shirt was buttoned up correctly. He nearly pulled his phone out of his back pocket and used the darkened screen to check his reflection and make sure he didn’t have something stuck in his teeth.

  He would have done it, but right at the moment the front door swung open. Laya blinked back at him. It only took her a second before a radiant smile spread across her face.

  “Jay!” She stepped out onto the front doorstep and wrapped her arms around his neck. She didn’t glance behind her, past the open door, to make sure no one was standing there before she kissed him, but he did. “I’m so glad you’re here. Mom made roast and mashed potatoes and gravy. You’ll love it.”

  “Great,” he forced out, wishing the thought of food didn’t make him want to vomit. He produced the bottle of wine he’d picked up, still wrapped in the brown bag the liquor store put it in. He wished now, that he hadn’t brought anything at all. He’d picked something he considered expensive at a hundred dollars, but on second thought, that was probably about as tasteful as bringing a bottle of vinegar.

  “Thank you!” Laya took the bag and slid the bottle out of the wrapper. “Oh wow. This looks really good. You didn’t have to bring anything though.” Her eyes sparkled and held none of the apprehension he’d sensed in his kitchen the week before. Did that mean her talk with her parents had gone well? He wished he knew. “Come in. You can take off your shoes and I’ll put them in the closet.”

  He followed Laya inside. Normally he would have been distracted by the pink dress she had on. It was one of those designer deals that looked like it had been made just to fit her. It was so perfect. She was flawless, her blonde hair curled into ringlets that trailed down her back, her makeup noticeable, but tasteful.

  She bent after he’d removed his shoes and placed them inside the massive closet. A closet that was larger than his entire living room. The front entrance was probably the size of his house. Jay didn’t allow himself to be distracted by the way the dress silhouetted Laya’s tiny waist or the way it cupped her perfect ass or her long, sleek legs. His throat closed up and heat crawled up the base of his spine, but he shook it off. He was too nervous to be caught ogling Laya, in case someone rounded the bend and caught him.

  Laya straightened. She took his hand in both of hers and stood on tip toes to whisper in his ear. “Relax. It’s going to be fine. You look amazing.” She inhaled right next to his ear. “You smell really good.” And then, because she apparently wanted to turn him into a useless puddle, she continued. “I can’t wait to taste that scent on you later.”

  Fuck me. That thought only produced a whole lot of images he was trying his best to keep under wraps. He had to clear his throat before he could say anything.

  “Do you- uh- want to show me around?”

  Laya smiled softly. “Nope. Because I know it’s only going to make you more nervous than you already are. You look like you’re tied in knots inside. I promise, this is going to be alright. I’ve talked to my mom and dad. I told them about you. They wanted to meet you. I didn’t ask them to invite you over. My mom came up with the dinner idea all on her own. This wasn’t forced or anything. I’m going to be right beside you, so just breathe. I don’t need you passing out on me because you don’t have any oxygen.”

  “How can I breathe when I walk into a house that looks like this?” he hissed under his breath. “Actually, how can you even stand coming over to my place when you live in a damn palace?”

  Laya blinked and hurt flickered across her face. He hadn’t meant to be harsh, but his words came out rougher than he planned.

  “You knew where I came from. I never made that a secret. You used to bug me about it all the time, so don’t hold it against me now. I thought we were way past that. And your house is fine. I like it a lot. Just because I live here, doesn’t mean this is who and what I am.”

  “Still. You must think I’m-”

  “Perfect? Hell no. We both know you’re far from that.” She grinned and he had to allow a shaky smile at the way he voiced his choice phrase.

  “Hell no… that sounds funny coming from you.”

  Laya’s took his hand again. Her fingers tightened around his. She looked him right in the eye and he had to give her credit for having balls that he himself didn’t at the moment. “I know what this looks like. I know what you’re thinking. Stop. And don’t think it. Whether you’re perfect or not doesn’t matter. I want you. I want us. I said I’d fight for you before and I will if I have to. So just come into the dining room and meet my parents and later we’ll escape and we’ll go back to your place, which by the way, I love because it’s yours and we’ll have the most amazing, mind blowing-”

  The sound of footsteps coming down the hall, which was made of marble or something so those shoes really clicked against it, thankfully cut off Laya’s sentence before she could finish it. He was already well on his way to wanting to crawl out of his own uncomfortable skin and popping a hard on that was going to be noticeable in the damn jeans he had on since they were far tighter than what he normally wore.

  He finally had the wherewithal to glance around. The entrance opened into a massive area that wasn’t anything at all, but a stepping stone to other rooms. It branched off in all directions. To the left was a huge winding staircase made out of the same stone as the entrance floor. It had a wrought iron railing that probably literally did cost more than his house.

  This really is a damn palace. He felt a little like the peasantry invited to dine at the king’s table. He was already hopelessly out of place and he’d just walked in the door. He held little hope that Laya’s parents would be warm and welcoming, despite her assurances. If he was them, he sure wouldn’t welcome him into their home.

  No, if he was them, he’d send himself packing, before he had the chance of doing Laya harm. With all that talk of soulmates, he knew how she felt. He knew how he felt. At the rate they were going, they were going to crash and burn, because that’s how the world worked. Happy endings were for fairy tales, not real life.

  Chapter 17

  Exactly As Planned

  Jay

  “Hello! You must be Jay!” A tall woman with the same facial features as Laya, light blue eyes and sandy blonde hair that was expensively cut to frame her dainty jawline, appeared from the hall in the opposite direction as the stairs. She wore a black pencil skirt and a yellow sweater, as though she was going to work, not hosting what should have been a casual family dinner.

  All he could do was nod as he cut his unhappy thoughts short. The woman, obviously Laya’s mother, though she looked younger than she probably actually was, extended a thin, petite hand. He shook it, never more aware that his nails were lined with grime no matter how he’d tried to cut and clean them and his hand were permanently stained with oil and grease.

  “I’m Helena. It’s good to meet you.”

  “Thanks,” he mumbled past the giant lump of nerves t
hat was lodged in his throat.

  “Bill is just in the dining room. I have everything ready. You came just on time.” Helena’s whole face smiled. She radiated kindness, so much so, that Jay actually relaxed a little. It was impossible not to like a woman who seemed genuinely humble and real despite the house she lived in, the huge rock on her left hand hanging at her side. She had on matching yellow heels, the exact shade of her sweater, and a simple necklace with a diamond pendant. Her hair didn’t have a streak of gray and her face was surprisingly unlined. It appeared that the passage of time didn’t ravage those with money the same way it changed people who didn’t have the means for expensive treatments or products.

  “Jay brought wine.” Laya held the bottle aloft.

  “Oh, thank you! That’s every kind. You didn’t have to do that.” Helena extended a hand and Laya placed the bottle in it. “That’s great. Good choice. Red goes nicely with roast.”

  “I didn’t even tell him what we were having either. I didn’t coach him, I promise,” Laya laughed.

  Helena smiled at her daughter. It was clear that she so far either approved to Jay, surprisingly enough, or she wanted to please Laya by trying to approve.

  Jay could tell a lot about a person just by meeting them. Laya’s mother didn’t give off the bad vibes he sometimes picked up from rich people. She was just nice, he decided.

  As he followed Helena and Laya into the dining room, his hopes for her father being the same way, faded.

  The guy was perched at the head of a massive table that included no less than fourteen chairs. It was an ancient piece and looked like it had been salvaged out of an actual castle. Bill, as Helena had said, sat nobly in a massive chair that matched. It was so carved and ornate it did indeed look like some kind of throne.