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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
♫ A pretty little fool To think exceptions to the rule Just walk around Like you and me this way ♪ (Lana Del Rey—Dark but just a game)
"He wants to talk about something serious."
Coralie's brain worked overtime as she waited for Michael to get out of the shower. And once he was out—draped in a loose towel, his chiseled chest gleaming with the after-effects of steamy water, a boyish grin on his face—she fought to hold in her thoughts. It took ounces of energy she didn't possess to avoid telling him she'd seen someone else's bare chest the night before, kissed someone else's lips, had someone else's penis inside her.
To give herself a chance to mull over her attitude, she hurried into the shower. She wished to wash off the stench of her mistakes, the crudeness of her misdeeds. But no matter that she kept her eyes open as the water trickled into them, to rinse her sin—she still saw Chester's "o" face, his widened mouth, his reddened cheeks. She still heard their bodies slapping together as she sat in his lap, and he pounded into her. And still smelled his cologne-tinted sweat as it smeared over her skin in their final moments of ecstasy.
As she dressed, Michael entered the room and asked her if she had time for breakfast—like Delilah had implied he would.
"My flight is later this afternoon," he said, crossing one leg over the other as he sat on the bed. "But if you can spare me an hour or two, I'd love to have one last meal with you." He watched her with intrigue as she buttoned her jeans and nibbled on his lower lip as he glanced at her ass.
One last meal sounded a bit final, to her, but she knew what he meant. She shrugged. "I'm off all day, actually, and," her stomach growled, and she groaned, "I could use something to eat."
Michael smiled as he stood up from her mattress. "The diner across the street? I noticed they had a mean vegetarian breakfast burrito that I'd love to try." He picked up his backpack and slung a strap over his shoulder as he kissed the space between her cheek and her temple. "I'll wait for you out in the living room, yeah? Take your time, there's no rush."
Oh, Coralie would take her time, for sure. She wasn't ready to sit across from him and admire him grinning at her, listen to him compliment her, or try not to cringe as he sang her praises and encouraged her, as he normally did. How to pretend like she didn't have pages of apologies to write to him, and millions of reasons for him to call her a fraudulent bitch for what she'd done?
She held her breath as another realization hit her. Was he maybe aware of all that she'd been doing behind his back, and hoped to air grievances in a public, neutral place? Had he been keeping his cool this whole time, acting like he wasn't cognizant of her betrayal, but waiting for the last minute to clarify that he knew?
She started shaking as she applied a thin coat of powder to her face. What if Delilah hadn't covered for her as she'd claimed, and decided to inform Michael of her nasty comings and goings with other men? It didn't benefit Delilah in the slightest to be so cruel, but she was sick of dealing with Coralie's bullshit. Coralie was sick of dealing with her own bullshit; surely her best friend and roommate had had enough, too.
