by W Winters
Tempted to Kiss
W Winters
Contents
Also by W Winters
Tempted to Kiss
Dedication
Prologue
1. Laura
2. Seth
3. Laura
4. Seth
5. Laura
6. Seth
7. Laura
8. Seth
9. Laura
10. Seth
11. Laura
12. Seth
13. Laura
14. Seth
15. Laura
16. Seth
17. Laura
18. Seth
19. Laura
Sneak Peek at Merciless
Chapter 1
Sneak Peek at Forget Me Not
Prologue
Chapter 1
Also by W Winters
About W Winters
Also by W Winters
Merciless World
A Kiss to Tell
Possessive
Merciless
Heartless
Breathless
Endless
All He’ll Ever Be
A Kiss To Keep
A Single Glance
A Single Kiss
A Single Touch
Hard to Love
Desperate to Touch
Tempted to Kiss
Easy to Fall
Merciless World Spin Off
It’s Our Secret
Standalone Novels:
Broken
Forget Me Not
Sins and Secrets Duets:
Imperfect (Imperfect Duet book 1)
Unforgiven (Imperfect Duet book 2)
Damaged (Damaged Duet book 1)
Scarred (Damaged Duet book 2)
Willow Winters
Standalone Novels:
Tell Me To Stay
Second Chance
Knocking Boots
Promise Me
Burned Promises
Forsaken, cowritten with B. B. Hamel
Collections
Don’t Let Go
Deepen The Kiss
Valetti Crime Family Series:
Dirty Dom
His Hostage
Rough Touch
Cuffed Kiss
Bad Boy
Highest Bidder Series,
cowritten with Lauren Landish:
Bought
Sold
Owned
Given
Bad Boy Standalones,
cowritten with Lauren Landish:
Inked
Tempted
Mr. CEO
Happy reading and best wishes,
W Winters xx
Tempted to Kiss
Tempted to Kiss
by W Winters
From USA Today best-selling author W Winters comes the third installment to her emotionally gripping romantic suspense series Hard to Love.
I fell for someone I shouldn’t have.
I’m not the only one to ever do such a thing. I know that. And I’m not an awful person for desiring his touch, his kiss, his everything… but I knew I shouldn’t have indulged.
There’s something about knowing it’s wrong that tempts me that much more. The seduction became a game with higher stakes than any before him. In fact, it was only ever him.
The thing is, I knew I shouldn’t have. Now that the game is over and the pieces have fallen… I know I should have just walked away.
There’s no way out of the wreckage now.
It doesn’t change the fact that I wanted him more than anything. I still want him more than anything.
If only we could just have each other without destroying everything else.
Tempted to Kiss is book 3 in a series. Hard to Love (book 1) and Desperate to Touch (book 2) must be read first.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to everyone who feels as if they’re at their worst.
It’s okay. There’s always a way out. Tomorrow may not be better, but better is coming.
I promise you, you won’t be down for long.
Prologue
Seth
Eight years ago
With every day that passes by, I hate myself more and more. Only when she’s not around, though. When she closes the door and the crisp lonely air reminds me what a prick I am, that’s when the resentment creeps in. I have that sound memorized now. The sound of her closing the front door of her house is unmistakable. It’s not like other doors. It’s heavier, I think, and it has to be older because of the ragged groan it gives. Then there’s a pause and a click, followed by the shuffle of the metal chain brushing against the door as she locks it at the top. It’s so high up, she has to get on her tiptoes.
Then there’s nothing but silence and a hollowness in my chest that reminds me why she’s on the other side of it while I’m out here in the cold, waiting for the dark to set in.
The only saving grace I have is that when the light of daybreak peeks over the city’s skyline hours later, I know she’s waking up with every intention of letting me back in, giving me the only chance I have to make my sins right.
She should hate me for what I’ve done. She should loathe my existence.
Instead she unknowingly takes my hand and offers me the only peace I have in this life. If she knew the truth though… none of this would exist. These moments with her would only ever be a dream. Then I’d wake in the dawn, hating myself a little less than I hate myself now.
There are two sides to my life: The first is the side that protects Laura and holds on to the threads of her trust. Power, greed, and killing comprise the other.
That’s what drives me back to her every morning. I like to pretend I can keep the dark side of myself at bay, if only for her.
The look in Laura’s eyes right now as I stand in her kitchen, waiting for her to tell me I should go—I’ve seen it a million times before. The carefully restrained lust echoes in my own gaze. I’m certain she sees it. Just as I see it from her. I know what keeps me from turning my fantasies into reality. I don’t know what keeps her from acting on our mutual desire. Maybe she senses what I’m hiding. Maybe there’s a deep-seated instinct that warns her away from me.
If only it were that easy to avoid the bad things in life. Simply sense them, these situations, and turn them away. How wonderful this world would be if it were so easy.
“Thank you, Seth,” she says and her soft voice is gentle and sweet. There’s a hint of shyness that stays with her when she lets me in. Her skin flushes a little brighter, although this time of year, it can be blamed on the wind from outside. We’re in her home though, and her cheeks are a touch rosier than they were before we came in here. I have no right to let her innocence stir the flames of desire inside of me.
The microwave beeps, alerting Laura that her hot chocolate is done. “You sure you don’t want one?” she offers over her shoulder. She’s looking more at me than she is at the hot mug in her hand, as if she’s asking me something else entirely. She quickly sets it down when I shake my head and leaves it there, running her hands down her thighs and biting just slightly into her bottom lip.
Leaning against the doorframe to her grandmother’s kitchen, I note that no one’s home. No one else is here to make sure she’s all right. Her grandmother works herself to death and her father…
“Do you want to…” her voice trails off and a warm blush creeps up to her high cheekbones. Nearly up to her hairline. Her nervous laugh brings an infectious smile to her tempting lips. They’re the color of sweet, perfectly ripe berries. Maybe whatever berry her lips were made from were truly the forbidden fruit that con
demned mankind to hell.
“Do I want to… what?” I question teasingly, crossing my arms and taking her in. It’s taken a long damn time for her to warm up to me. It took months for her to ask me to come inside. It’s been a few more months now and every day is easier, lighter. Until she’s gone and then I remember.
Laura picks at the hem of her large, cream-colored sweater. Her leggings make her look so relaxed and at ease. It’s been forever since I’ve seen her like this. No more red-rimmed eyes, no more tearstained cheeks. Almost a year, and she’s seemingly whole.
She closes the distance easily enough; her strides don’t give anything away. I’m only aware of how quick she is to get to me from the rapid thuds made by the pads of her feet. Shock and surprise consume me as her dainty hand grips my forearm, her nails barely touching my skin, teasing me. Thump, my heart pauses. She rises up on her tiptoes, barefoot and all, and presses those sweet lips to mine. Thump, my heart races with need and hunger.
At first it’s soft and gentle, a peck on the lips and nothing more. Maybe someone else would take it as a thank you, as testing a boundary, or flirtatious innocence. It’s anything but that to me. The barest of affections from her elicit a storm of want and need that floods my blood with desire. Even the feel of her breath so close is like heaven, so close I can almost taste it. Adrenaline races through me and I deepen the kiss. My arms uncross and wrap around her small waist before I know what’s happening.
The kiss is searing, branding my soul as she moans into my mouth. When she parts her lips, I take it as an invitation, giving in to the perverse thoughts I’ve had for as long as I’ve known her. The air turns hotter around us, everything blurring and turning into nothingness. That’s all life’s ever been for me, nothing without her.
I make a vow to myself as she parts from the kiss, her eyes half lidded, her fingernails digging into my skin to ensure I keep my grip on her. She breathes heavily as I promise myself, she’ll never know.
I’ll kill the man who tells her what I’ve done. I’ll kill him for taking her away from me.
Laura
I wish I didn’t know. I wish Seth had never told me. I wish I’d never pressed him.
Once you tell someone a secret like the one he told me last night, you can’t take it back. More than anything in the entire world, I want to go back to that moment and beg him not to tell me. That little secret changed everything.
My cheek rests heavily on my fist, my elbow propped up on the metal table. It’s cold and I can’t stop rocking my right leg, which is crossed over the left. My muscles are tight and sore from sitting like this for so long, but I can’t get comfortable either way.
All I can think about is how I wish I hadn’t pushed him. I wish he’d had the sense not to tell me.
All the wishes in the world don’t mean shit as I bite away at my thumbnail in this far too cold empty room. Does that make me weak, or less of a woman? To wish I simply didn’t know something so awful and life altering? If it does, so be it. I just want to go back. I don’t want to know any of it.
The air conditioner keeps coming on and each time it does my heart leaps. It’s accompanied with a loud click, that fills the quiet space. It scares the shit out of me every time it clicks on. I haven’t slept in God knows how long now. I know that’s not helping, but how could I possibly sleep in this room? It’s not designed for comfort. I haven’t taken my medicine either and the beating organ in my chest runs wild. It doesn’t want to be in this interrogation room any more than I do.
My thumbnail is jagged and rough from biting it down to the nub as goosebumps spread across my flesh and my foot nervously taps against one of the metal legs of the table.
Four chairs, a table and a long-ass mirror at eye level on the wall to my left are all that are in this room. I’m no fool and I’m fully aware it’s a one-way mirror and they’re watching me.
Officer Cody Walsh is watching me.
Maybe he’s waiting for me to break. The question is: how long will he wait?
The door opens suddenly, ripping me from the trance I’d been in as I stared at my own reflection. From the scrubs I put on yesterday morning, to my red-rimmed eyes, blotchy from smeared mascara, I look like hell. Or rather like I’ve been to hell and come back to tell the tale.
Again my heart reacts at a sudden unfamiliar noise as the door opens, thumping and loudly protesting this man’s existence.
Cody Walsh will always look handsome, I’m sure of it. There’s a charming air that surrounds him as he lets the door close behind him, a coffee in each of his hands. He’s not dressed in his uniform, clad only in faded jeans and a crisp white collared shirt. Classically handsome fits him well. Wholesome, even. With neatly trimmed hair and never more than a five o’clock shadow on his face to pair with his gorgeous blue eyes and pearl-white smile, he’s a good-looking man to say the least. A little older, but good-looking nonetheless.
“You didn’t sleep,” he comments with compassion in his tone. I wish he weren’t compassionate. That’s how he gets me and I’m so aware, yet so in need.
I fall for it. My dreary night lends itself to a need for sympathy. The ball of emotions clouds my vision and I let my hand fall over my eyes, scrubbing them and reminding myself that I can’t say anything to anyone, no matter how long I’m meant to wait in this room. Anything I can think to say to Walsh in greeting jumbles itself at the back of my throat. I suppose some piece of me would rather choke on the words than give them to the man who arrested me.
“The guilty ones sleep.” Walsh’s voice remains casual, friendly even. It’s unavoidable to look him in the eyes as he walks over to me, confidently and nonthreatening in the least. “You didn’t and I knew you wouldn’t,” he says as he places a cup of coffee beside me. It smells like cinnamon and he must notice how I gaze down at the cup longingly the moment it hits the hard, unforgiving table. Which is the only thing that’s been my company for hours. I shift in my spot and suddenly realize how sore my elbow is from resting in the same position for so long.
The white paper cup is innocuous, the black lid standard, but it looks and smells like heaven to me.
Wrapping both of my hands around it, the warmth is everything. “Do you intentionally keep the room cold?” I ask as my shoulders shake with another click of the air conditioner turning back on. I knew it was coming, but still wasn’t ready for the sudden sound. It’s less of a shock with Cody distracting me though.
Officer Walsh looks up at the vent only a foot from me before turning, leaving the room without a word and then coming right back. The constant breeze is no longer present and he gives me a weak smile although his eyes don’t reach my own. “My apologies.”
The concrete floor protests in a loud screech as he pulls out the metal chair across from me. I take a sip of the coffee, unable to refrain any longer. The least I can do for myself is consume some sort of energy. I haven’t eaten in a long damn time since I didn’t take my lunch break on my last shift. I don’t know if the coffee is decaf or not, but the warmth alone is welcome. My eyes close and the lack of cool air against them grants me a small sense of peace. It’s short-lived, but it was there for a moment.
Walsh gestures to the coffee and says, “Cinnamon crumb cake or something like that. It was the special of the day. I don’t know how you take it.”
“It’s perfect,” I find myself saying as I open my eyes and stare straight ahead at the blank wall. I add after the tick of the clock, “Thank you.”
He nods in acknowledgment but then what he’s holding steals his gaze from me. There’s a folder in his grasp and he puts it on the table but doesn’t open it. Splaying his hands, he places them on either side of the folder and looks down at it as he speaks, rather than at me.
I wonder what it contains. Maybe evidence they found. Statements they took. Maybe it’s all blank papers and the man across from me simply wants to make me scared. At this point and from everything I’ve learned in my lifetime, any of those options are possible.<
br />
“There are three ways I see this playing out.” With the first bit spoken and my heart pumping harder, Walsh looks me in the eyes. He clears his throat and says the first option: “You’re tried and convicted for the murder of a cop.”
I swallow, the remaining cinnamon-flavored coffee suddenly making my throat tight. My pulse seems weaker and my head feels lighter at the thought. I could spend the rest of my life in prison. How is that justice? My conscience plays flashes of my life for me, each moment I got away with something wrong, something I shouldn’t have done. Justice and karma are quite different, aren’t they? When I push the warm cup away and fold my arms over myself, the cop continues, his voice a bit stronger. “The second option: I let you walk away and you go back to the man who had you take the fall.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from speaking up to defend Seth and I know Cody Walsh sees it. The metallic taste of blood is awful, but uttering a word right now would be worse. I have to work hard to school my expression to neutral. I won’t say a word. I haven’t got a damn thing to say to him. If I so much as mention Seth, they could bring him in. He’s shot, he’s not okay.
