by Jenika Snow
Touch Me
A Forbidden Romance
Jenika Snow
Contents
Synopsis
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue
About the Author
TOUCH ME
By Jenika Snow
www.JenikaSnow.com
[email protected]
Copyright © November 2020 by Jenika Snow
First E-book Publication: 2014
Photo provided by: Adobe Stock
Cover Designer: Cormar Covers
Proof Editor: Editing 4 Indies
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: The unauthorized reproduction, transmission, or distribution of any part of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
This literary work is fiction. Any name, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental. Please respect the author and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials that would violate the author’s rights.
Being with the only man she’d ever loved would have been a forbidden romance.
After Freya’s father passed, she decided to pack up and leave everything behind, but that meant leaving Elijah, too.
Not only was he older but their lives were entwined, so regardless of her desire, the possibility of them being together seemed next to impossible. But love had a funny way of making a person disregard what was right or what was deemed wrong.
The heart wanted what it wanted.
And she’d only ever wanted Elijah.
Now four years later, Freya was back in her hometown and that longing and ache in her heart remained. But everything was different in the best kind of way, and the forbidden aspect of her love didn’t seem so wrong anymore.
As passion ignited, truths were revealed, and love was tested. Freya knew she could either follow her heart or let it break a second time.
Reader note: This book was published previously under the same title. It has been recovered, re-edited, and has undergone minor tweaks. The story itself is the same. This is a forbidden romance, and there may be subject matter that may be sensitive to some readers.
Prologue
Freya Dresden stared at her stepmother, feeling small compared to the woman who intimidated her like no other. Even at the young age of fifteen, she hated that Meghan was who she had to look at for a mother figure and a father figure. Hell, Meghan was the only family she had left.
After her mom died when she was only three, her father had remarried, finding the woman he could spend the rest of his life with in the form of his personal assistant. Freya was happy her father had found someone and didn’t have to be alone.
But then the unthinkable happened. Not only was she motherless, but she’d become fatherless as well, and the only person she could rely on was Meghan in all her self-absorbed glory.
Meghan had been sweet at first, trying to befriend Freya because she clearly wanted her father and his money. But when a drunk driver T-boned her father’s car one rainy night, Freya lost her father at the tender age of thirteen. It had been two years since then, and here she was, sitting across from Meghan, watching her sweet-talk her new husband, Elijah.
If Freya could have gone to live with a relative, she would have left in a heartbeat, but she had no one else aside from this woman who didn’t want her, this woman who now had a legal responsibility because she’d married Freya’s father.
“You’re not hungry?” Elijah asked Freya. He was a nice man, a man who for whatever reason thought getting married to a self-centered, mean-spirited woman like Meghan was a good idea.
“No,” Freya said, pushing her plate of burnt toast and too-runny eggs Meghan had “cooked” away from her. She stared at the food as her stomach churned. “I prefer my eggs a little less active and my toast a little less black.”
Elijah started laughing, and that had Freya smiling. But the exasperated sound that left Meghan told her that her stepmother really wasn’t all that pleased with her husband and stepdaughter making jokes about her lack of cooking skills.
“I have to go to school anyway.” Freya couldn’t wait to turn eighteen. Then she could leave this place behind and let Meghan and Elijah have their perfect little life. They were still newlyweds, Freya assumed, seeing as they’d only been married a few months, but none of this concerned Freya.
She tried to keep her nose out of everything related to Meghan and focus on doing well in school so she could get a scholarship and live in a dorm—far away from this life. She just wanted to forget about everything she’d lost, everything she was forced to gain, and start over alone.
“I’ll take you. I have to go to the office early anyway,” Elijah said as he stood and smiled down at Freya.
“I’m okay to walk, really.” She grabbed her bag off the tiled floor and turned, making her way toward the front door. But before she could open the door, Elijah was there opening it for her.
“Ladies first,” he said with a grin. He was such a nice man, and Freya couldn’t understand why he’d want to marry someone as self-absorbed as Meghan. Ducking her head, Freya stepped out of the front door and murmured a thank you. She was minding her own business and biding her time by focusing on herself. She had three more years, and then she could get out of this damn house and away from Meghan, this town, and all the memories of what she didn’t have anymore.
They made their way over to his Range Rover. Elijah had money and owned his own company, which was most likely a very big reason Meghan married him.
Sitting in the vehicle while Elijah was on his way to her school, she let the silence surround her. She felt comfortable when nothing was said, when she was alone. But it was also sad because when she was alone, she thought about her mom and dad. She didn’t remember a lot about her mother since she’d died at such a young age, but Freya had a lot of happy memories of her dad that she clung to.
“I know Meghan can be a … pill.” He chuckled softly. “For lack of a better word. Believe me, I know.”
She looked her at him. Elijah was a big man, tall, muscular, with a head full of short black hair, and these intense green eyes that almost seemed unreal. Freya knew an attractive man when she saw one, and Elijah definitely was good-looking. But the fact he married Meghan, a woman who was beautiful on the outside but ugly on the inside, made her wonder. But he was nice, and it wasn’t fair to judge him because of the woman he decided to strap himself with.
“Can I ask you something?” Freya shifted toward him on the seat, holding her backpack in her lap, and saw him nod.
“Yeah. I know we really don’t know each other, but I’m here if you want to talk. Believe me, I know what can go through a kid’s head. I have a few nieces and nephews,” he said and grinned.
“What do you see in her?” Freya wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed to ask him that. She was honestly curious why someone would want to be married to a woman who only thought about herself.
He was silent for a moment, but then he exhaled and glanced at her for only a second. “She can be difficult, I admit, but she’s a good person at heart. I have to
believe she is.”
Freya didn’t bother snorting at that. He clearly didn’t know Meghan the way she did, but he would. It was only a matter of time before he really saw Meghan for who and what she was: a woman only after a man with a fat bankroll and nothing holding him down. Elijah didn’t have any children, and she knew from what she’d overheard Meghan saying to her father years ago that she didn’t want any kids.
They rode the rest of the way in silence, and when he stopped in front of her school, she got out before he could say anything. She just felt like she was out of place in the only home she’d ever known. She hated feeling like she didn’t belong anywhere.
One day she’d be gone, and she’d say fuck it all. She’d start her own life where she didn’t have to rely on anyone, and that would be the end of it. If she stayed here longer than she had to, Freya didn’t think she’d survive, especially not with a stepmother like Meghan.
Being the shadow that darkened her life, Meghan was just a reminder that Freya’s father was no longer here and her life was no longer the same.
1
Three years later
Well, Freya had done it. She’d graduated, gotten that scholarship to a school away from this town and Meghan, and was currently getting so drunk she couldn’t see straight. But this was what Freya needed, to just become oblivious of anything and everything.
She’d come to the party with her friend Terra, but she couldn’t find her at the moment. The last time she’d seen her was when she was heading upstairs with one of the football players. So here Freya was, standing here watching people as she got drunk, but not caring about much of anything because she was nice and loopy.
The party was at some guy’s parents’ house. They were out of town, so the house was filled with seniors and juniors, but some freshmen and sophomores had weaseled their way in. She thought some college kids were even present.
The booze was flowing, the joints being passed around, and half the student body at the party were almost fucking, heading to one of the empty rooms to do just that, or didn’t care and were screwing right here out in the open. But then again, she supposed anyone who was drunk or high didn’t care if people watched.
There was a group of guys sitting on the couch right across from her, and she was pretty sure they were snorting coke.
She stared at the lines they made with a credit card and at the mirror they were using as their surface. One of the guys rolled up a dollar bill into a tight cylinder and then leaned forward and inhaled one of the lines through his nose. It was kind of fascinating to watch, but not something she’d ever want to try.
“You want some?” The deep voice beside her had her turning her head and staring at the guy who stood a few inches from her. She’d never seen him before, and he looked pretty old, maybe college-aged. He grinned, his eyes bloodshot, glossy, and the smell of beer coming from his breath.
“No, thanks,” she said and shook her head, looking back at the guys doing lines. “It’s just kind of interesting to watch, like I’m in the middle of Boogie Nights or something with all the drugs and sex around me.” She took a drink from her bottle of beer, finishing it off, and was about to go into the kitchen to throw the bottle away and get another one when the guy who had asked if she wanted coke stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.
“Come on, just a line. I swear it’s like fucking heaven right up your nose. And dripping down the back of your throat.”
“Sounds tempting,” she said sarcastically, “but I’m not into having heaven snorted up my nose.” She moved away from him and went into the kitchen where a couple was currently making out and groping each other. The girl was sitting on the counter with her legs spread and the guy wedged between them.
Freya went to set the bottle on the counter, but she was so drunk she didn’t calculate the distance right. It ended up crashing to the floor and shattering. She closed her eyes, feeling a wave of dizziness slam into her, and knew it was time to call this a night and go home. She grabbed a rag, bent down, and started picking up the glass so no one got hurt.
“Hey.” Terra was right behind her, loud enough to be heard over the music, and caused Freya to jump. The piece of glass in her hand fell to the ground but not without cutting her in the process.
She gasped, then stood and turned to see a thoroughly mussed-looking Terra. Her red hair was a mess of waves around her face, and her cheeks were flushed.
“Oh, shit,” Terra said, grabbing the rag out of Freya’s hand and holding it to the cut. After a while of lifting the rag and placing it back on the cut after checking to see if the bleeding had stopped, Terra finally breathed out and removed the rag. “The bleeding has stopped, and I don’t think it’s that deep.”
“It doesn’t hurt,” Freya said and braced a hand on the counter to steady herself.
“That’s ’cause you’re wasted,” Terra said on a laugh. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
They made their way out of the house with people staring at them and commenting on the bloody rag held to Freya’s hand. Once they were outside, across the street, and in Terra’s car, Freya looked at her friend. “You’re good to drive?”
Terra snorted. “I haven’t had anything to drink, although I am a little bow-legged.”
Freya groaned and closed her eyes, resting her head back on the seat. “No details, please.”
Terra laughed but didn’t respond. They drove the twenty minutes it took to Freya’s place, but it felt like it took forever. By the time Terra parked in the driveway, helped Freya out, and they walked to the front door, Freya turned quickly and emptied her stomach. It lasted a few minutes, and when the dry heaving finally subsided, Terra handed her a napkin.
It wasn’t like Terra was her best friend or that they were even that close. They went to school together, but it was only when Freya started working at the local coffee shop, which was also where Terra worked, that the two started talking. And that had only happened this year.
“Where the hell did this come from?” Freya asked and chuckled.
“My pocket. Be glad it wasn’t used.”
Freya groaned. “Nasty.”
“You’re good to get inside by yourself?”
Freya nodded. “I feel better now.”
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”
Freya straightened. “Yeah, I feel a lot better now.” After finally convincing Terra she was really okay, she waved at her friend and watched her get in her car and leave. The sound of Meghan yelling came through the front door, and Freya groaned softly and closed her eyes.
In the three years since Meghan and Elijah had been married, it slowly progressed to where Meghan was a bitching machine. But then again, she’d been this way with her father all the way up until he passed away.
Freya turned and made her way to the porch. She not so gracefully sat down on the concrete step, not about to go in there right now. She might be drunk and able to blissfully walk through that landmine, but no way in hell was she going to let it ruin the buzz she had going on.
It was only about five minutes before the sound of stomping feet came closer to the front door. It eventually opened and slammed against the wall, but Freya didn’t bother turning around. Instead, she leaned her head on the banister next to her, closed her eyes, and waited for everything to pass. But she couldn’t tune out the sound of Meghan bitching at Elijah once more.
“I am so sick of this bullshit, Elijah,” Meghan all but shrieked. “I can’t live like this where you are never home because you’re working all the damn time—”
“And how do you expect to buy your Louis Vuitton purses or pay for that brand-new Mercedes or all the other shit you have to have?” Elijah said from inside in a calm, collected voice.
“And you,” Meghan spat out. “God, you are worthless, coming home drunk and making the porch reek like fucking puke. College can’t come soon enough for your ass.” Meghan stormed down the porch, away from Freya and the house, and was peeling out of th
e driveway a few minutes later.
Freya lifted her hand and flipped Meghan off even though the bitch didn’t see her. It made Freya feel marginally better, so she supposed that was something.
A second later, the sound of Elijah coming toward the front door stirred Freya slightly, but she was feeling nauseous again, so she didn’t bother moving to look at him.
“How much of that did you hear?” he asked after several seconds had passed. He moved onto the step beside her, sitting down.
“All of it,” she said softly, not really caring about their fight because she knew she was about to throw up again. She turned her head, feeling humiliated that she was about to puke right in front of him, but she braced a hand on the banister and just let it all come out.
But what surprised her as she was in the middle of dry heaving was the fact Elijah pulled her hair back, keeping it away from her face. She would have thanked him, but her body ached, she was embarrassed, and the burping sounds that came from her intermittently had all conversation ceasing.
“You’ll feel better once it’s all out,” he said softly and started rubbing her back.
“I don’t think so because nothing else is left, and I still feel like shit.”
He started chuckling, and after a moment, he helped her up and into the house. “Come on, sit down, and I’ll get you some water and ibuprofen.”
Once inside, she sat on the couch, closed her eyes, and heard him leave to go into the kitchen. The sound of him opening the cabinet, the bottle of pills being opened, and then him turning on the faucet seemed so loud, she actually groaned. When she was about to lie down, he came back in the living room and touched her hand.