Destined To Fall
By Tamsyn Bester
Edited by: Eileen Proksch, Eileen Book Edits Copyright © 2013 by Tamsyn Bester
Cover Design by © Sommer Stein, Perfect Pear Creative Covers PHOTO COPYRIGHT © Toski Covey, Toski Covey Photography Tamsyn Bester. Destined To Fall Kindle Edition
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part
of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/ use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. This eBook is licensed for your personal use only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for
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Acknowledgements
I believe that every author should have at least one book that they write purely for themselves. Destined To Fall is that book for me. It was a challenge, and the book that will make me a better writer.
I’d like to thank my family for their love and support, and especially my mom, who has been behind me all the way and encouraged me to keep going, no matter how hard, tiring or crazy things got. I wouldn’t have had the courage to dream big and reach for the stars if it weren’t for you, mommy.
I’d also like to thank the amazing group of women who have quickly become my trusted friends, and Beta readers – Michelle Davis Grad, Toski Reanne Covey, Jessica Carter, Carrie Richardson-Horton, Jessica Bowman, Sommer Stein, and Lisa Sharley Serpa. I love you all so much, and maybe one day, I will be able to hug you in person.
Then, a special thanks to my critique partner and friend, Michelle Davis Grad! This book would not have made it without you– thank you for all the nitpicky feedback, and for helping me when I got stuck! Love you lady!
I’d also like to thank all the bloggers who have helped me promote my books – Nikki at Blissful Book Blog, Jessica at Bookend 2 Bookend, Heather at The REAL Housewives of
Romance Book Blog, Lisa at I Pimp My Authors, Ena at Enticing Journey Book Promotions, Sophie at Bridger Bitches Book Blog, Krystle at Four Brits and a Book, Sirenda at Swoon Worthy Books and all the other bloggers (you know who you are!) Also to all the blogs who have signed up for the blog tour, and who have requested ARC’s for this book, THANK YOU for your support!!
I also want to take the time to thank some of my fellow indie authors who have guided me, and inspired me – Shanora Williams (and all our FB booty pops), Tijan (for always
buying my books to support me!), Rachel Brookes (for encouraging me, and telling me
everything will be okay!), and Rebecca Berto (For always listening – or rather reading- my endless ramblings about being at Indie Author!
And finally, to my readers – without you, I would have not been able to come this far! THANK YOU for reading and loving my books and my characters! Love you all!!
Dedication
Here’s to the crazy ones, the misfits, the rebels, the troublemakers, the round pegs in the square holes... the ones who see things differently -- they’re not fond of rules... You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them, but the only thing you can’t do is ignore them because they change things... they push the human race forward, and while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius, because the ones who are crazy enough to think that they can change the world, are the ones who do. ~ Steve Jobs
Chapter 1
~ Cassey ~
His hands trail up my naked torso, cupping each breast and rubbing my nipples until they harden under the pad of his thumb. My back arches, seeking more of him, of his touch. When his hands move back down, I whimper at the loss of contact until I feel his hot, wet tongue start to tease and suck each breast in turn. A flame coils in my belly, causing an ache that only he can soothe. I try to move my hands so that I can run them through his glorious, rich brown locks but they’re restrained. I pull a little harder and feel cool metal biting into my skin. Handcuffs. My disappointment at being unable to touch him is soon wiped away when he moves his head farther down, licking my sensitive flesh. I feel his tongue dip into my navel and I squirm, eager for him to keep going. He chuckles and the sound of his deep voice travels to where I’m starving for him.
“My gorgeous, greedy, little Peach,” he breathes. His hands stop at my hips and he uses his knee to nudge my thighs apart, exposing me to him completely. “Look at me,” he commands. “I want you to watch me use my tongue to make you come.” I shiver. “Cassey,” he growls. My eyes snap open and I look into his clear blue eyes, a storm of lust and hunger swirling viciously in their depths. He licks his lips and a moan slips from between my slightly parted lips. “Oh please,” I beg, unable to help myself. He’s driving me wild and I’m being consumed by my own ravenous need. I want him to own me, consume me and give me what I crave. Him.
His lips kiss my inner thigh on one side and then he kisses the other, his dangerous blue eyes never leaving mine. “Please what, baby?” he teases. He wants me to tell him what I want, but only because it turns him on to hear me say the words ‘Fuck Me’. The wicked grin on his face makes me feel like a helpless rabbit about to be devoured by a wolf. A big bad wolf. He leans down and I hear him inhale. “Hmmm,” he mumbles. “Sweet as a Georgia peach.” I watch as he lifts my legs and wraps them around his neck. My heart is already racing but by some miracle it increases in speed. “Tell me what you want, Cassey,” he growls again. He is so bossy. And it’s such a fucking turn on. “I want -” I lick my dry lips and force the words out from my very dry mouth. “I want you to fuck me, Kyler.” He grins widely. My big bad wolf. His eyes stay glued to mine as his head dips and I hold my breath in anticipation. His tongue dives between my slick folds and the heat and moisture assaults my clit. My hips buck and I feel him smile against me. He likes teasing me, pushing me until the edge is within reach and then pulling me back. His tongue slides between my sensitive lips until it reaches the little hub of nerves he’s searching for. The familiar pressure builds and when I think I’m ready to crash, his mouth pulls back. I struggle to catch my breath, panting loudly until his mouth covers mine. I taste myself on him, which only serves to increase my arousal. “Please,” I breathe into his mouth. “I don’t think I can-” my words are cut off when he slowly slips one finger into me and then another, beginning the slow, torturous process of teasing my clit all over again. My hips start moving and fall into rhythm with his fingers while I ride his hand. “Yes,” I breathe harshly. “Oh my God, yes.” I ignore the pain in my wrists and focus only on the building pressure between my legs. He starts curling his fingers upward, massaging my upper walls each time his fingers retreat, and applying more pressure as they surge back in.
I can’t help but think that he’s a musician and I am the instrument. The wave of ecstasy is close and I feel myself tighten around his fingers until…until… an alarm goes off.
My eyes fly open and I sit up straight in bed. I hit the clock next to my bed to shut off the alarm that abruptly ended my very hap
py dream before I got happy. I wipe the small droplets of sweat from my forehead and slump against my headboard. Did I just have a wet dream? Yes. I just had a wet dream. Under normal circumstances I would feel embarrassed, ashamed even, but given that I haven’t had sex in over a year, it’s perfectly normal for me to feel frustrated. Thanks to my alarm’s impeccable timing, I’m even more frustrated after being unable to finish. The image of deep, blue eyes and dark, rich brown hair comes to mind and I blush, even though I’m alone in my room. He can only be a figment of my imagination, a delirious fantasy, because I’ve never dated a man that looks anything like him. Something about those eyes…
A soft knock on my bedroom door makes me jump and I clasp my damp tank top. “Who is it?” I choke out. It can only be one person but I’m so lost in my imaginary Adonis’ blue eyes that all sense momentarily disappeared.
“What do you mean ‘who is it’?” my roommate and best friend Quinn asks as she steps into my room. I sigh. “Sorry, Quinny. I was a little confused.” She comes to stand next to my bed and I take in her light pink nighties and her matching pink slippers. Quinn Avery is a stunning woman. Her blonde hair is cut into a sleek bob that accentuates her high cheek bones, rosy cheeks and hazel colored eyes. We’re both the same height, standing at five feet six inches, but where her hair his blonde and short, mine is light brown and hangs to the middle of my back, and where her eyes are hazel, mine are green.
“You better get ready,” she quips, surveying my sweaty appearance. “You have a meeting at eight.” I slide my legs over the edge of the bed and
pick up the old-fashioned alarm clock that ruined my morning. “Shit,” I mutter. I have less than forty-five minutes to get ready and make a stop at Starbucks on my way to work. I dash past Quinn, who chuckles behind me, and take the quickest shower of my life. If it wasn’t for her, I would never do anything or get anywhere on time. You’d think that by the age of twenty-two my time management would be perfect. Sadly, it’s not. I riffle through my small closet until I find my gray pencil skirt and my white button down blouse with bell sleeves. I’m busy fastening the strap of my black wedges when Quinn walks into my room. She’s wearing her favorite cream colored dress pants with a red button down shirt and matching red stiletto heels.
“I’m almost ready,” I say. I grab my on-the-go make-up bag and throw it into my oversized Gucci knock off purse. “Are we stopping at Starbucks?” Quinn asks while she puts her diamond stud earrings in. She always dresses to impress and that goes for her flashy accessories too. Unlike me, Quinn comes from a very wealthy family who are very well known here in Chicago. She doesn’t need a job but chooses to work because it’s what she loves doing.
I roll my eyes. “I never miss my morning cup of java,” I quip. “You know that, Quinny.” Making sure that I have everything, I grab my purse and my laptop bag and walk out in the hallway and into the kitchen. I love our little apartment. It’s our slice of heaven. The floors are all hardwood and the furniture is a combination of dark chocolate and caramel in color, with red scatter cushions to add some depth. The short hallway leads to two bedrooms and a bathroom.
Luckily Quinn has an en suite bathroom of her own so we don’t have to share. Our kitchen has steel appliances, courtesy of Quinn’s parents, and marble counters with wood cupboards that match the floors. My favorite feature is the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf in the corner of what should be our dining room. Instead of dining room furniture, we got a chaise lounge set and now use it as a reading nook. Quinn comes strolling down the hallway like it’s a runway and slips her too big sunglasses on top of her head. In the two years that we’ve been living together, I’ve learned many things about Quinn, one of them being no matter how well she dresses she doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks. She smiles at me and I return it as we slip out of our apartment and into the elevator that takes us five floors down to the lobby. We greet Charles, an older gentleman, who mans the front desk, and step into the bustle of a Monday morning. The city is so different compared to where I grew up. There isn’t even a comparison between it and the tiny town I ran away from or the two bedroom trailer I shared with my good-for-nothing parents. I push my thoughts about them and that life out of my mind as we near the Starbucks on the corner.
“Your usual?” I ask Quinn as I take out my purse to pay.
She nods and I immediately fall into the line before the morning rush starts. I order two Vanilla Lattes and wait patiently to collect them. The young guy behind the counter is watching me and I have to admit the attention isn’t completely unwelcome. He looks about twenty-one with sandy blonde hair that hangs in his face. He isn’t unfortunate looking by any means but I find myself comparing him to the blue eyes and chocolate colored hair from my dream. My cheeks flush at the memory and when the guy hands me our Latte’s the look on his face tells me he thinks he made me blush. I duck my head and pass Quinn her cup before walking back out onto the busy sidewalk.
“What was that all about?” Quinn asks between sips. I mutter, “Nothing,” and keep my head down while inhaling the sweet caffeinated aroma coming from my cup.
“Does it have anything to do with you screaming like a banshee this morning?” I almost choke on the hot liquid in my mouth and barely manage to stop it from shooting out my nose. When Quinn sees my shocked expression, my eyes wide, she giggles.
“You heard me?” I whisper. Quinn laughs harder and I wish the sidewalk would swallow me whole. Great. Nothing like your best friend hearing your screams in the middle of a wet dream.
“I’m pretty sure the whole building heard you, Cass,” she chuckles.
“Can you imagine what I would’ve sounded like if I fi-” I slap my hand over my mouth and watch as Quinn almost doubles over with laughter. Now I’ve really done it. Foot, meet mouth.
Quinn finally catches her breath and pats my shoulder sympathetically. “We need to get you laid,” she proclaims, not giving a rats ass who overhears our conversation. We walk past a little old lady who gasps and then scowls when I look at her sheepishly.
“Says the diva who was out until God knows what time this morning, getting freaky with Jarred,” I retort quickly. Her porcelain cheeks flush. “Ha,” I shout. “I knew it! You just can’t stop yourself, can you?”
Quinn lifts her dainty shoulders in a shrug but I see the smile tugging at her red lips. She can’t lie to me. I heard her come in at about two a.m. “Why don’t you put the poor guy out of his misery and go on a date with him?” I ask.
She purses her lips, pulling the bottom one between her teeth. “Because I don’t do commitment,” she replies. “Jarred and I are just friends.” I snort. “Friends who happen to fuck like rabbits for three weeks out of the month.”
“What can I say,” she grins. “When I have an itch, nobody can scratch it quite like Jarred does.”
A sigh breaks free from her mouth. “God, he’s fantastic in bed. If I didn’t go to gym four days a week he would’ve broken my va-jay-jay by now.”
“Lucky bitch,” I mutter under my breath. “I’ve told you before, Jarred has plenty of hot lawyer friends who I’m sure will be happy to help you get rid of some of your frustration. Just say the word and I’ll have him hook you up,” Quinn says.
I shake my head. “We’ve spoken about this before. I don’t want a ‘hump and dump’.” She shrugs nonchalantly as we enter the double doors to our office building.
“Suit yourself.” I look around the lobby of Knight Media and smile. I’ve been the publishing assistant for almost two years now, since I graduated from college, and wouldn’t give it up for anything. I worked my ass off to get here. Knight Media is the second largest media company in the city. It is an umbrella company of sorts, housing a complementary group of multinational companies specializing in publishing, digital advertising and film and television production. Quinn is the editorial assistant for the newspaper division while I work in the book publishing division. Our CEO, Robert Knight, recently decided to branch out into digital publi
shing and gave me the task of putting together a proposal for the executives. That’s why I can’t be late for any meeting.
“Holy shit,” I hear Quinn whisper next to me. I look up and follow her gaze until my eyes land on him.
His black suit fits him flawlessly, his navy blue shirt tucked in just enough to show a broad chest.
His mop of dark brown hair hangs just above his eyebrows but is styled in that just-fucked way. “Who’s that?” I ask in a hushed tone, as if the Adonis over there may hear me.
“That, my sexually frustrated friend,”Quinn sighs, putting her toned arm over my shoulders. “Is none other than the infamous Kyler Knight.” My lips form an ‘Oh’as we watch Kyler being mauled by a drop dead gorgeous redhead who kisses him unabashedly, giving no mind to the small audience gathering to watch their embrace. “Who’s the redhead?”
Quinn frowns and her face contorts into the expression she gets when she’s about to be a total bitch. “Jessa fucking Price.” My eyebrows shoot up at the tone of her voice.
“You know her?” I ask. “Everybody does. She’s slept with half the people in this city. Our fathers are friends and our mothers both champion the same charities. I practically grew up with the bitch.”
Quinn pulls me towards the elevator, dragging my attention away from the beautiful couple and back to reality. I check my watch and see that I have exactly ten minutes before my meeting starts. We step into the empty elevator just as a hand stops the two doors from closing. He steps into the elevator and the air in my lungs somehow escapes without ever leaving my mouth.
“Quinn,” he greets with a smile. She knows him?
“Kyler,” she replies, not returning his friendliness. His eyes travel the length of my body, the tiny hairs on the back my neck standing up, until they lock with mine. I suck in a breath. I know those blue eyes. He brushes a piece of hair out if his face and I notice that it’s darker than what I thought. A dark, rich chocolate brown.
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