by Mj Fields
Contents
Disclaimer
Book One: Cinq à Sept
Book Playlist
Foreword
Part I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Part II
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Book Two: Amour Battu
Book Playlist
Dedication
Part I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Part II
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Part III
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Part IV
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Part V
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Part VI
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Epilogue
Would You Like To Help?
Acknowledgments
Book Three: Hearts So Big
Dedication
Book Playlist
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
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Book Four: Couture Love
Book Playlist
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
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Epilogue
About the Author
Also By MJ Fields
Disclaimer
This book contains mature content not suitable for those under the age of 18. It involves strong language and sexual situations. All parties portrayed in sexual situations are consenting adults over the age of 18.
For information contact: [email protected]
Book One: Cinq à Sept
A de la Porte Fashion Novel
Cinq à Sept
A de la Porte Fashion Novel, Book 1
Copyright (c) MJ Fields, 2019
2nd Edition, Blue Valley Publishing, LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of MJ Fields, except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Edited by C& D Editing
Proofread by Asli Arif Fratarcangeli
Second Proof by Josie Charles
First Edition: September 2018
This book is dedicated to those who are starting over, to those who are wary of trusting their heart to another, and to those who worry too much about what others might think if their next love doesn’t fit the mold.
Songs That Inspire
Listen to this playlist on Spotify
No Rain by Blind Melon
Good Riddance by Green Day
Right Here Right Now by Jesus Jones
I Remember You by Skid Row
Love Song by Tesla
Two Princes by Spin Doctors
High Enough by Damn Yankees
The Best Day by Taylor Swift
Price of Love by Bad English
So What by Miles Davis
Stay by Black Stone Cherry
Foreword
Love is without the knowledge of time and its compatibility knows no years. The heart wants what the heart wants.
~Forever Steel~
MJ
Part I
Chapter One
I don’t know how long I stand there staring, but when the song changes and another blast from the past hits me in the ears and heart simultaneously, he looks up again, his eyes narrowed in an unspoken question. I take in a deep breath while flattening my palm over my lower abdomen, trying to still the butterfly social inside.
As Tesla’s epic instrumental intro plays, I look down at my bare feet and kick at the sand, trying to muster up the courage to walk over to him. Then, taking a deep breath of ocean air, I look up to find him standing in front of me, red heels dangling from his finger. His eyes are definitely brown, a striking shade of dark chocolate with levels of depth I can’t wrap my alcohol-saturated brain around.
My heart is beating fiercely, so fiercely that I fear it will jump out of my chest, and my panties are … soaked.
“I’m drunk,” I confess.
He bites his lower lip and nods slightly as he looks down.
I wonder if he can actually see it, my beating heart. Then I feel an ache that tells me he’s not looking at my heart. He’s looking at my nipples that are painfully and desperately trying to show him that they would love nothing more than to have his attention.
He leans forward and, in a deep, husky voice, whispers,
“Don’t blame it on the alcohol,” as his minty fresh breath caresses my face.
I realize my eyes are closed and force them to meet his. I hear music, see shadows dancing behind him, but the only thing I truly see is a man, a younger man, a stunningly gorgeous young man who looks like he hasn’t anything in the world to do, but … me.
“You’re fucking beautiful.”
Dear God, how long has it been since I have not only heard those words, but felt them to my core? I realize never.
But this man could wreck me during this fragile and uncertain time in my life, and I won’t ever let a man bring me to my knees, so I tell him, “I’m much older than you.”
His lips twitch upward slightly at the corners as he grips my hip with one hand and pulls me closer to him, clearly not hearing what I need him to hear. I’m not even sure I’m hearing what I need to hear, or saying what I need to say because, when he grips my hip with his other hand and I feel my heels hit my ass, I moan and my body betrays me by curving against his.
Feeling his hard, warm, muscular body against mine as he pulls me even closer, I close my eyes. Then I feel his breath at my ear as he rasps, “I like my women older.”
“I’ll ruin you,” I sigh out.
I have no idea why those words came out of my mouth, but they did. And what does he do? He chuckles.
I look up at him, seeing his eyes sparkle and a grin, a panty disintegrating grin, a youthful and beautiful grin, a carefree grin, covers his face.
Looking down, I bite the inside of my cheek, trying not to laugh, and when I’m confident I won’t, I explain, “That’s supposed to be a warning.”
He silently chuckles then says, “And here I took it as a challenge.”
I feel a tap on my shoulder and look back up at his face. His happy, dancing, chocolate pools of light turn dark.
“I’ll take her back.”
It’s Ken.
“You licked her while she was looking at me.”
“She was looking at her shoes,” Ken huffs.
“Walk away,” he demands, eyes narrowing. “In three, two—”
“Dude, chill the fuck out.” Ken laughs.
“Piss off,” dark and dreamy snaps.
“How about you let her—”
“She’s made her choice,” he cuts him off, looking down at me and studying my eyes, and when they receive the answer to the question he sought, yet already knew, he looks back at Ken and nods to the left. “Your type is over there.” He looks back down at me as he tells him with a smile in his voice, “This one would ruin you.”
“Whatever,” Ken says, and then I see him walk past us.
Once I know Ken is gone, I close my eyes. “Women in their twenties and thirties are surrounding you—”
“And yet, all I’ve seen since you walked by me tonight is you.”
“They’re more your…”
I stop when he grips my hips a bit harder, possessively, not painfully.
“There are a million ways I have already pleased you in my mind.”
“Hookups are not—”
“When you wake up in the morning, I’ll still be face-down between your legs.”
Holy crap! screams inside my head.
He sees it. I know he does.
He shocks me when he twirls me around and pulls my back tightly against his chest then wraps his arms around my waist as we face the ocean. “That railing right there; you’d be bent over it right now as I licked you from front to back until you came all over my face. You’d be so wet that you’d almost not even realize how much bigger my cock was than what you’re used to.” He leans closer and whispers in my ear, “Almost.”
I’m not sure if I’m turned on or disgusted by his admission that he wants to lick my ass … Scratch that, I’m definitely turned on.
“I’m not a whore,” I tell him, unsure if I’m trying to deter him or remind myself.
“I’ll treat you like a queen,” he counters, twirling me back around to face him.
So hot, so incredibly hot, and his eyes, layers upon layers of emotions exude from them.
Logic? Logic, where are you? I ask myself silently yet know the answer.
This man … This sexy, hot, and apparently hung younger man has seduced her, too.
“I need to use the restroom,” I pull myself out of his grip.
Taking several steps to put distance between us, I look back, hoping to see something I can fixate on that makes him less tempting. His arms are crossed over his chest, but he lifts up his finger, my heels still dangling from them.
I blow out a breath and watch as his stance becomes even more powerful. Then I watch him walk over to the table where Emilia is making out with salmon shorts. He sits next to Ken then places my shoes in front of him as he looks over at him with an arrogant, cocky, conceited, and sexy as hell look on his face.
Screwed. I am so screwed.
I turn away and rush to the bathroom with all intentions of climbing out a window and running barefoot to my hotel room.
I use the toilet then stand in front of the mirror again, this time next to some of the same, much-younger women who I hid from last time I was in here … barefoot.
Looking in the mirror, something strange happens. His words replay in my head.
You’re fucking beautiful … All I’ve seen since you walked by me tonight is you.
Those words, coupled by the way he looks at me and the way he makes me feel, are like a cocktail of adrenaline and endorphins to a middle-aged woman’s soul. A dangerous mixture, one that should come with the warning label: You are about to be soul fucked, holding a literal and figurative meaning.
I think of what Autumn would say if she were here at this moment. I know she would strongly encourage me to throw caution to the wind and enjoy the ride. Emilia isn’t one I bare my soul to, but I also know she would encourage me. I think of how Natasha asked me to date more, because I deserve happiness and companionship. And logic … well, she’s too smitten to even be considered a reliable source of good advice.
I walk out of the bathroom and see him in deep conversation with Ken and crew. Well, part of the crew, since Emilia and salmon shorts are nowhere to be seen. Then I see him look up at me, the corners of his lips turning upward slightly as he points to my shoes.
Inhaling a deep breath, I flatten my hand on my belly to quiet the circus of butterflies he seems to evoke. Then I walk over, head held high with the purpose of retrieving my shoes then getting the hell out of here with memories of how wonderful this man made me feel. A decision that just took a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn from when I was standing in the bathroom, looking at myself in the mirror. But since I opened the door, I realized I can’t handle the wreckage that I feel he could cause. Not now while everything could come crashing down around me.
Definitely. Not. Now.
“Joe here says you and he met on a dating app.” Ken chuckles.
Joe? His name is Joe? I must have gained his attention when he overheard me use his name outside on the beach.
“It was the puppy, right?” he jokes as he stands up and pulls a seat out, motioning for me to sit.
“I guess I need a puppy.” Ken winks.
The ginger of the group looks right at me and asks, “So, gym pics are a bad idea?”
I look up at him … Joe.
“Well …?” He smirks and, for some reason, it entices me to play along.
“Well, Joe here had a few pictures showing his physique but he had me at—”
“Six-foot-two in flats,” he interrupts.
I silently giggle and look at the men around us. “He loves wearing my heels. But that wasn’t the reason. I was more drawn to the statement, ‘my search for boobs and booty has been replaced by emotional availability and independent personality that allows me to pursue my ambitions while you pursue yours.’ ”