Falling for the Forbidden: Forbidden Series #1

by Lorraine, Tracy

  The discrepancy on the accounts still nags at me while I lie surrounded by bubbles. I do my best to push it aside and relax. Turning up my favourite playlist on my phone, I sink down into the warm water.

  * * *

  I feel refreshed when I wake up late Saturday morning. As I lie in bed, considering what I want to spend the day doing, I’m amazed that I can hear chatting in the house. My curiosity has me getting out of bed and dressed to find out if this family could be doing something as normal as having breakfast together.

  I’m wrong, of course. As I get closer to the kitchen, I realise that what I thought was light chitchat is actually a heated argument. Jenny sits at the island, mute, while Dad and Ben argue about responsibilities and appropriate behaviour. The second I join them, they stop what they’re doing. Jenny looks at me and apologies for the noise—I swear all she does is apologise for other people. Dad and Ben continue staring daggers at each other until Ben storms from the room and out the back door.

  “He’ll come to his senses, love,” Jenny says softly, placing her arm on Dad’s forearm, but it does little to calm the fire raging in his eyes.

  “You keep saying that, but all he does is disobey the rules.”

  “He’s just struggling at the moment.”

  “He’s a twenty-year-old man, Jenny. He needs to grow up,” Dad spits out. If Jenny is surprised by his outburst, she doesn’t show it.

  They take their seats around the table and silently sip on their coffees. The tension surrounding them is almost palpable, and I consider turning on my heels and walking straight out of the house to get away from it all. Mum’s flat is empty. I could spend the weekend there in peace.

  I’m starting to fully understand why Ben’s never home.

  “Would you like some breakfast, darling?” Jenny asks me, her voice sickly sweet. I know she’s trying to make up for my dad’s attitude, but it’s really not necessary. His temper isn’t news to me.

  I agree and sit myself beside Dad, who’s still tense, while Jenny floats around the kitchen. I watch them both, trying to figure them out. I never noticed before, but since moving in with them, the cracks in their relationship are obvious. I still think they genuinely love each other, but there’s some strange kind of tension between them, almost like they’re trying too hard.

  Thinking it might take Dad’s mind off whatever was going on with Ben, I bring up what I thought I found with the accounts yesterday.

  “You’re wrong,” Dad barks the second I suggest I couldn’t account for fifty grand.

  “Probably,” I admit, “but I’d really like to go over it with you so I can—”

  “Enough, Lauren. I didn’t give you a job so you could question everything I do. I just need you to do your damn job. Is that too much to ask?” A lump forms in my throat and tears sting my eyes. I feel like a child under his intense, angry stare. “What the hell is wrong with the kids in this house? You’ve both had everything you could ever desire, yet you’re totally incapable of doing the most simple of tasks.”

  My lip trembles and I’m about to interrupt to apologise when warm fingers circle my wrist. Sucking in a breath, I’m pulled up and into a solid wall of man. I recognise his scent immediately.

  Before I know what’s happening, I find myself in the passenger seat of his BMW with him jogging around to the driver’s side.

  As he reverses off the drive, I get my first chance to look at him. Sweat beads his brow, his hair’s a little damp and curling out from his neck, his skin’s flushed, and his chest is heaving. His black t-shirt clings to his body like a second skin, showing off every muscle covering his solid frame.

  “Stop it,” he snaps, startling me.

  “Stop what?”

  “Running your eyes over me like that.”

  “Wh—I…uh…was wondering what’s going on.”

  “Do you always let him talk to you like that?”

  “No. He—”

  “Do not make excuses for him, Lauren.” The way my name sounds coming from his lips has my insides clenching. He’s angry, his white-knuckle grip on the wheel shows that, but his voice is also deeper, rougher than usual.

  “I…uh…I wasn’t,” I argue, and he gives me a look, casting a glance over at me that tells me he knows I’m lying. “What? I shouldn’t have questioned him.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he’s right. I don’t really know what I’m talking about.”

  “Says who?”

  “Him and everyone who’s worked for Johnson & Sons for longer than me, I would imagine.”

  “It doesn’t mean you’re wrong. Trust your gut, Lauren. If you think something’s wrong, it probably is.”

  “Just like being alone with you feels dangerous?”

  His eyes flash with something. Excitement, shock, I’m not sure. It’s not until I see his reaction that I realise I said those words out loud.

  “Dangerous?” he repeats, intrigue filling his voice.

  “Uh…yeah…anyone ever tell you you’re a shit driver?”

  His laugh lightens the atmosphere in the car. It’s like I can breathe properly for the first time since being pushed inside it. “No, no one’s ever told me that.”

  “First time for everything,” I mutter quietly. I’m not expecting an answer, so I jump a little when I hear his voice.

  “I guess there is.”

  I’ve no idea if it’s meant to be, but it feels like a promise. My thighs clench and my cheeks flush with embarrassment. “You okay?” When I risk a look, he’s got a sexy little smirk playing on his lips.

  Damn him.

  “Yeah. I’m good. Thanks. What were you and my dad arguing about?”

  Blowing out a long breath, he considers his answer. “It would probably be quicker to go through the things we don’t argue about.”

  “Oh?” I knew they didn’t really see eye-to-eye, but I didn’t realise things between them were that bad.

  “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

  “No, but you can tell me anyway.”

  “He just…doesn’t agree with my choices.”

  “What choices?”

  “All of them.” Pulling the car to a stop, he looks over at me. His face is softer than I’m used to seeing, but it’s clear his walls are built right up. There’s no way I’m breaking them down anytime soon, if ever. Not that I’m sure I want to. “No one deserves to be dragged into my life.”

  “You’re forgetting something.”

  “I am?”

  “Like it or not, I’m part of your life. I’m already in it. So what’s the harm in sharing the load?”

  “Motherfucker,” he mutters, but it’s with a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “Things aren’t always what they appear to be. Let’s just leave it at that.”

  I open my mouth to question his cryptic statement, but before I get a chance to say anything, he’s out of the car and shutting his door behind him.

  For the first time since he came to a stop, I look out the window and focus on where he’s brought us. The park.

  “Ben, what are—oh!” I can’t help but laugh as I watch him lift a picnic basket from the boot of his car. It’s wicker and has red and white gingham fabric poking out from the edge. It’s the last thing I think I ever expected to see him carrying.

  With my eyebrows raised in surprise, I look up at him.

  “I was meant to be meeting friends for a picnic,” he says with a shrug.

  “Y—you should go. Don’t change your plans for me.”

  “Lauren,” he says, stopping and turning his angry eyes on me. I suck in a breath at their intensity, but I know it isn’t directed at me. “There isn’t anywhere else I’d rather be.”

  My lips form an O and I fall into step beside him.

  With the basket in one hand and a blanket tucked under his arm, he places his other hand at the small of my back and guides me towards the vast expanse of grass beyond.

  We come to a stop under a huge oak
tree and Ben shakes out the blanket before placing the basket in the middle and lying down next to it.

  “I won’t bite,” he says when he looks up and sees I’m still standing.

  “I’m not sure I believe that.” My voice comes out as an unsure whisper and he doesn’t miss it.

  “Remember what I said about trusting your gut.” He winks at me and I fall down onto my back, allowing the sun peeking through the leaves to warm my skin.

  I feel heat coming from somewhere else, and when I turn my head and crack one eye open, I find Ben staring down at me.

  “You’re really beautiful.”

  Propping myself up on my elbows, I look around to see who he’s talking to. We’re still alone, and heat blooms from my cheeks, warming down my neck. Slowly, I look over to find him staring right at me.

  “You’re talking to me?”

  “No, that tree over there. Of course I’m talking to you.” I fight to keep my eyes on his, but his stare gets too intense and I have to look away. “Hey…” His warm fingertips connect with my jaw and my head is gently turned so I have no choice but to look back up at him. His deep blue eyes hold a sincerity I don’t think I’ve ever seen before.

  He’s silent for the longest time. When he does speak, it’s not to say any of the things I imagined might fall from his mouth.

  “Fancy a sausage roll?”

  Chapter Four

  Once I stop laughing, our conversation takes a bit of a lighter note. We steer clear of bringing up anything to do with work or our parents.

  I never thought I’d say it, but I end up having an amazing day with Ben. He’s still intense and brooding, but as time goes on, he manages to let go of some of the anger that seems to follow him around and, for the first time since we were introduced, I feel like I’ve actually got to know him a little. He’s not nearly as scary as I once thought he was. That fear has been replaced by another feeling, one I’m not all that comfortable thinking about.

  The way he looks at me, the gentleness of his touch—he awakens things within me that I’ve not experienced before, and that can’t be a good thing.

  I had a semi-serious boyfriend last year. I enjoyed my time with him, but I didn’t feel the pull I do when I’m with Ben. The more time I spend with him, the more I seem to crave his attention…and his touch.

  “Lauren, is that you?” Dad calls out the second we step foot inside the house.

  “Yeah, Dad. I’ll be right there.”

  “Don’t take any of his bullshit. I’ll be upstairs if you need me.” Ben’s fingers brush against mine and he squeezes quickly before disappearing up the stairs, leaving me with the tingles kickstarted by his caress.

  “Lauren?” Dad snaps.

  Following the sound of his voice, I find him in his office, staring at a spreadsheet.

  “I wanted to go through what you thought you saw yesterday so we don’t have the same misunderstanding again.”

  “Oh. Yeah, sure.” Pulling up a chair, I silently listen as Dad talks through the spreadsheet and the figures on it. He does the same calculation I did the previous day…and the total is fifty thousand pounds more than what I worked out.

  “See, everything’s fine. You must have missed something.”

  “Yeah. I guess so.”

  “Happy now?”

  I mumble my agreement, but Ben’s words linger in my mind. Trust your gut, Lauren. If you think something’s wrong, then it probably is.

  As I walk out of Dad’s office, I put it all to the back of my mind. I haven’t even started uni yet and I’m questioning my dad’s accounts. He was right this morning. I don’t know what I’m talking about.

  Something feels weird as I walk towards my bedroom door. It’s not shut like I left it, just pulled flush. I live in Dad and Jenny’s house, so I guess it’s their right to go into their own rooms, but that doesn’t stop it feeling like an invasion of privacy. As I push the door open, I realise immediately who’s been in here and suddenly I feel uncomfortable for an entirely different reason. Laid out on my bed, in the exact spot I left my ex’s black hoodie this morning, is a navy Johnson & Sons one.

  I stand frozen, not knowing what to do. I should give it back. Accepting it and wearing it are wrong. It’s pushing boundaries that we shouldn’t be anywhere near. But it’s just a hoodie, right? His actions and words today come back to me, and I fear we might have already blurred a couple of those lines.

  In the end, I push my door closed and walk over to the neatly laid-out fabric. In a moment of madness, I swipe it up and bring it to my nose. I’m taken back to the enclosed space of his car when the only thing I was aware of was him sitting next to me. The fullness of his parted lips as he concentrated on where he was going. The gentle rise and fall of his strong chest and the tense muscles as he held onto the steering wheel.

  Sitting down on the end of the bed, I try telling myself that the flutters of excitement I feel in my belly are wrong, but it does little to dispel them. In fact, the more I think about our day together, the stronger they get. The need to go and see him nags at me, but I fight it. Putting his hoodie down on my chair, I attempt to distract myself with the TV.

  I can only assume that Dad wants to make amends for this morning, because when I venture downstairs a while later for a glass of water, I find him and Jenny in the kitchen, surrounded by food.

  “Ah, there you are. We were just going to shout up. Dinner’s ready,” Jenny sings as if being called down for a family meal is the norm around here.

  “I’ll go and tell Ben,” Dad says, getting up from his stool.

  “It’s okay, I’ll go.” I see something flash in Dad’s eyes at my suggestion, but when he doesn’t say anything, I spin and head back in the direction I came from.

  Pausing for a second outside his bedroom door, I suck in a deep breath in preparation for seeing him again. Anticipation engulfs me and I feel like a schoolgirl waiting for her crush to walk into class.

  After giving myself a little talking to, I lift my hand and knock. I’m expecting to hear movement from inside, so when I don’t, I’m a little disappointed.

  “Ben?” I call, and after a few seconds, I push the door handle down. As expected, the room is empty. I guess he’s on his usual Saturday night out with his mates. My stomach drops. I stay where I am for a couple of seconds and take in his room. It’s tidier than I would have imagined. Stacks of CDs surround his player and a few items of clothing are thrown on a chair, but other than that, it’s tidy. The bed’s even made.

  Closing the door behind me, I make my way back downstairs to embark on what’s going to be the most awkward family meal I think I’ve ever experienced.

  * * *

  Before I get into bed some time before midnight, I pull the curtains back just to make sure he’s not warming the doorstep once again, but there’s no sign of him.

  I’ve never really put all that much thought into where he goes and what he does, but suddenly I’m lying here, worrying about him. What if he gets too drunk and one of his friends isn’t there to help get him home? What if some other guy starts a fight? All these stupid thoughts run rampant through my head and I end up getting frustrated with myself.

  My entire body is tense. Sleep is the last thing on my mind when I eventually hear footsteps creeping up the stairs. My heart races erratically as I picture him getting himself ready for bed.

  When I hear a door click much closer than I was expecting, I sit bolt upright in bed. Light filters into my room and I squint as I try to focus on his silhouette in the doorway. My heart pounds in every part of my body as I wait for him to do something.

  “Fuck. I shouldn’t be here.”

  I watch, enthralled, as he brings his hands up and scrubs them over his shadowy face.

  Expecting him to leave as quickly as he entered, I’m shocked when he reaches out and pushes the door closed. The small amount of light disappears and I’m left with hardly any vision. My other senses are immediately heightened, and the second he steps
a foot forward, I stop breathing.

  His manly scent gets stronger and goosebumps prick my skin as I wait for what he’s going to do.

  When he reaches the bed, it dips as he puts his knee on the edge. I’m shocked when he lies down beside me. Reaching for my hand, he encourages me to join him.

  We lie with only the sounds of our increased breaths filling the room. My head spins with the knowledge that he’s right here, next to me, on my bed.

  The pillow rustles as he turns to look at me. I fight to keep my eyes on the darkness in front of me, but eventually the pull to look at him is too strong.

  I can just make out his features. His eyes sparkle, reflecting the tiny bit of moonlight seeping in around the curtains.

  He searches my face. I’ve no clue what he’s looking for.

  I start to think that maybe this is it. That he’s come in here just to lie with me and hold my hand. It’s not unwelcome. It actually feels pretty incredible, but I’m confused, anxious, and desperate to find out what’s really going on in his head.

  He rolls onto his side and I follow his lead. The heat from his body burns into me and my fingers twitch to reach out and touch him.

  I suck in a breath when his face moves closer to mine. Our eyes stay locked, but, instead of doing what I’m expecting, he rests his forehead against mine. I swear he’s trying to tell me something, but my brain’s not exactly functioning correctly with him this close to me.

  “Fuck,” he whispers, nudging his nose against mine. I can almost hear his internal argument. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he admits. His honesty forces all the air from my lungs. “Tell me to stop. Tell me to fucking leave. Right now.”

  I can’t. I’m powerless to do anything but lie there and wait. Time seems to stand still as we stare at each other in the darkness.

  “Fuck,” is the last thing he says before I feel the softness of his lips against mine. His hand lands on my waist, the heat of his palm burning through my top.

  He doesn’t move to deepen the kiss, but my need for him has my lips parting. The second he feels the movement, he pulls back and stares at me. My eyes have adjusted to the dark enough now to see the tension lining his face.