BOOK TWO in the STEAMY FORBIDDEN ROMANCE series -- please read BOOK ONE, Illicit, before proceeding with this novel!
Coralie Watson, now living in NYC to focus on her singer/songwriter career, has landed herself in quite the predicament. Stuck in a...
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🔥STEAMY ALERT—getting REAL frisky in here, folks 🔥
♫ They say I'm shy, but you know that's a lie I'll be over tonight So I can blow your mind ♪ (Mya—No sleep tonight)
When they finally pried apart from one another, and Michael was catching his breath, Coralie peered left and right, taking in her surroundings, regaining her balance. Their kisses had made her a tad dizzy, and she needed something to help her refocus.
The lamplights left shadows to dance over Michael's expression, and his excitement showed in his sheepish smile. "Wow."
Averting her gaze, Coralie sighed. "I wish you hadn't done this," she said, without stopping to think how her words would come off, how wrong they'd sound. "I mean—"
"—what?" Michael's eyebrows furrowed. "Wish I hadn't done what?" He raised his shoulders. "Come here, to see you?" He squinted at her. "You didn't want to see me?"
"Of course I did." She shook her head. "I missed you. But what I meant was... I wish you hadn't surprised me."
Not that she didn't like surprises—but she didn't appreciate them when they might compromise her entire life and break several hearts in the process. Ryan was surely fuming, considering coming over that very second to confront Michael himself and break up with him for her. And with her luck, Chester would soon swoop down the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets, and wink at her before jutting his chin at some alleyway where they might make-out.
Make-out.
Her tongue weighed fifty tons and was coated in poison. She feared she'd relayed that poison into Michael's mouth, and that with its flavor he'd understand at once what she was up to—
"I'm sorry. How about I make it up to you by buying you dinner? Did you eat yet?" He half-spun to motion at the greasy diner across the street. One Coralie had avoided going to, but often thought about when getting home from her late-night shifts at the bar.
"I haven't." She recalled Delilah's delicious spaghetti sauce, and its heavenly scent filled her nostrils as if she were still in the kitchen. She'd much prefer to eat that, than whatever the diner offered. But to decline Michael's request might offend him more than she already had by implying she wasn't happy to see him.
She was happy to see him—she'd ditched Ryan to meet with him—but his presence put her in more emotional danger than ever. And more so after she'd reconnected with—and kissed—Chester, who tended to pop up wherever she went and haunt her thoughts more than she'd prefer. She wouldn't put it past Ryan to tail her, to watch her, spy on her, harass her until she ended things with Michael; but she also didn't doubt Chester might be following her, too, though he said he wasn't.
"I'd rather take you somewhere fancy, but..." Michael glanced down at his worn-out shoes, his wrinkled pants, and winced. "I'm not dressed for that. And I want to do my research on cool and hip New York restaurants first, anyway. So would you be okay with that diner?" He pointed at it. "I'm sure you've been there a few times, yeah?"
