Trouble

by Sasha White

  Trouble

  a True Desires novel

  Sasha White

  Contents

  Trouble

  Copyright

  What readers are saying

  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

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Epilogue

  Wicked

  Trouble

  By Sasha White

  * * *

  Samair Jones is fed up with being a pushover for her boss and for her two-timing boyfriend. All she wants is to live by her own rules. Then she meets hot nightclub owner Valentine Ward and the decadent possibilities of answering only to herself become daringly clear. Especially when Valentine is willing to indulge every one of Samair's fantasies—no strings attached.

  * * *

  At least none that Samair can see. Then she meets Valentine's powerful, jealous, and dangerously manipulative ex-wife, Vera. Vera's about to throw a new kink into Samair and Valentine's games, and this one could be trouble.

  Trouble

  ISBN: 978-1-928115-15-1

  Published by Sasha White

  White Hot Books Edition

  * * *

  Copyright © 2007 Sasha White All rights reserved.

  First Edition 2007 Penguin Publishing Corp

  Second Edition 2016 Tribe Publishing, White Hot Books

  Cover art: Gypsy Style

  Electronic book Publication June 2016

  * * *

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental

  What readers are already saying about TROUBLE:

  * * *

  “I REALLY loved this book. TROUBLE by Sasha White is very hot, erotic, but it is also a lot of fun. The characters are well developed and, with the exception of Val’s ex wife, the type of people that you would like to hang out with and be friends with. I loved Samair’s friend Joey, she really needs her own story as well as Val’s friend Karl.

  RUN TO THE STORE, when TROUBLE hits the stands!!”

  ~Barb Hicks, The Best Reviews

  * * *

  “Trouble is the perfect name for this new romance by one of my favorite authors, Sasha White… Trouble was rife with hot sex, rich and compelling true-to-life characters and a story that caught and completely held my attention. Sasha has again managed to pull off a sensual, erotic romance with the sexual and emotional tension building and building throughout the story until its resolution brought a most satisfying afterglow. This is one of my favorites of Sasha’s books to date but I’m eagerly awaiting her next story. If you like a little Trouble in your life, you need to read this book. It instantly went into my keeper pile.”

  ~Maura Anderson. Joyfully Reviewed

  1

  It was easy for Samair Jones to stride past the crowd lined up outside the nightclub Risqué and through its front entrance. All it took was a confident stride and a sultry smile for the doorman, and she was in.

  Okay, so it was more than just the smile. It was the attitude behind the smile. And the happenings of the last few hours had given her the kick in the ass she needed for an attitude adjustment.

  For the past three years she’d been a good girl. She’d worked a “proper” job, had a “proper” relationship, and a boring, uneventful life. Now it was time to remember how to live.

  She looked out over the dimly lit dance floor. It was Friday night and the place was packed. Bodies of all shapes, sizes, and sexes filled the club in varied levels of dress—or, in some cases, undress—undulating to the music, and an almost forgotten spark of energy flowed through her.

  Samair knew there were times when the image she showed to the world shifted and a certain energy emanated from her—an energy that made people sit up and take notice. It was something she used to hate.

  The energy was from deep within, and one she hadn’t felt it in way too long. It was the same energy that had made teachers single her out as the troublemaker in school, and her parents berate her for being too flamboyant. But tonight, she’d decided to give it free rein.

  To give herself free rein, and Risqué was the perfect place to do it. The club had a repuation as exotic, erotic, and top-notch, and she could see why.

  Tension eased from between her shoulders as the steady throb of a heavy bass beat seeped into her through the floor, her pulse starting to throb in time with it. She turned from the railing and started for the stairs. Three steps from the top she spotted a hottie on his way up. She smiled at him, held his heated gaze as they passed, and felt the thrill of the hunt shoot through her.

  The time had come to stop kidding herself and embrace who, and what, people had always told her she was.

  Trouble.

  * * *

  Valentine Ward noticed her as soon as she set foot in Risqué. From the vantage point behind the one-way-mirrored wall of his office, he could see everything that happened on the floor of his club. He liked it that way. He needed to know what was happening at all times.

  He studied the contradiction of the pretty blonde. The sinuous way she moved had caught his attention, but the longer he gazed at her the more a subtle air of innocence seemed to come through. “Val, are you listening?”

  “Not really,” he murmured.

  Karl Dawson came up behind him and looked over his shoulder. “Ah, now I see why. A playmate of yours?”

  Val watched as she stepped to the side of the landing and surveyed the club from the top floor. She was less than fifteen feet from his office so he got a good look at her.

  Dressed in black slacks and a simple white blouse, she should’ve looked out of place in the nightclub. The clothes certainly weren’t anywhere near the type of party clothes most club-goers wore. They did nothing to neither hide nor accentuate her curvy figure, and he wondered if she always dressed like that. It looked wrong. Too plain…too strict for the raw sensuality she exuded.

  Tousled dark blonde hair that reached a couple of inches past her shoulders framed a face that housed delicately arched eyebrows, a straight nose, and sensuous lips.

  Those lips were really something. Full and shiny, they formed a natural pout that gave him the urge to suck the bottom one into his mouth for a quick nibble.

  He stared, wishing she would look his way. He wanted to see her eyes. Instinct told him they held the key to if she was just a player, or if she was for real.


  Val watched those tempting lips tilt in a predatory smile as she started for the steps, and he felt the long forgotten pull of lust stir.

  “Not yet,” he finally answered Karl. “But she will be.”

  * * *

  Bodies brushed against her as she walked, and Samair felt alive for the first time in a long while. Almost as if she were waking from a deep sleep.

  She watched the pair behind the bar as they mixed drinks for the crowd. The male bartender was tall, slim, and clean cut, while the girl was the complete opposite with vivid purple streaks throughout her black hair, heavy eye makeup, and black lipstick.

  Despite being the odd-couple, it was clear they got along as they worked well in a synchronized dance behind the bar. When she was up, Samair ordered her drink and decided to do things the easy way. “Is Joey Kent here tonight?”

  “She’s here somewhere.” Purple and black curls bobbed as the bartender squeezed a lime in Samair’s drink. “If you can’t find her in the crowd, wait ten minutes and you’ll see her in one of the cages. She never breaks for long.”

  That sounded like the Joey she knew. Full of fire and never far from a dance floor.

  “Thanks.” Samair put a twenty down and picked up her drink. “Keep the change.”

  “Anytime, sweetness,” she replied with a wink and a grin that was completely at odds with her dark Goth look.

  Glass in hand, Samair started the stroll around the club. A tingle of awareness danced up her spine and she looked over her shoulder, but saw nothing unusual. She continued her walk around the club, heading for the dance floor, unable to shake the feeling that someone was watching her through the packed crowd.

  Her blood hummed as it raced through her veins. Anger, determination, and excitement all combined to give her just the push she needed to take control of her life again.

  For twenty-eight years she’d listened to her parents’ lectures and done her best to live up to their expectations. She took business in college instead of art or creative design, and she worked crappy hours in a small boutique so she could just be near what she really loved: clothes. She’d been undemanding in the bedroom, and put up with lousy sex so she could have a steady boyfriend.

  Okay, so the putting up with crappy sex hadn’t been part of her parents’ lectures, but having a steady relationship had been. And that meant putting up with mediocre sex.

  Somehow, after high school, she’d done everything proper, and it had bitten her in the ass.

  Well, she was done with it. It was time to do things her way, and she knew just the person to help her relearn what that was.

  Just as Samair reached the far corner of the room she heard a piercing rebel yell, and turned to see a striking redhead climb up into one of the platform cages on the edge of the dance floor and start shaking her ass.

  Despite the long, straight, brilliant red hair pulled back in two high pigtails, the neutral makeup, and the porcelain complexion, Joey Kent did not look innocent. Maybe it was the custom-made leather halter-top, short shorts, and knee-high boots.

  Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was Joey was there, and she was a friend.

  Samair chuckled and made her way in that direction. She ran her hand up Joey’s calf to her bare skin, and tickled her behind the knee to get her attention. She swung around sharply, and saw Samair.

  “Sammie!” The last vestiges of Samair’s anger and frustration slipped away at the pure welcome in Joey’s grin.

  “Hey, baby,” Samair shouted.

  “Get your butt up here, girl!”

  Without thinking twice Samair set her drink on the edge of the platform, and tossed her worn leather backpack into the cage. She gripped the bars, hoisted herself up. It wasn’t easy squeezing her curves between the metal bars into the cramped space, but it was worth it because she was instantly wrapped in her old friend’s arms.

  Joey must’ve picked up on something in her hug, because when she pulled back, there was concern in her expression. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

  Samair shook her head and flashed a wicked grin. “Later,” she shouted. “For now, I just want to have a good time!”

  “Let’s do it!”

  Joey reached for the buttons of Samair’s simple blouse and started to undo them while both girls moved to the music.

  2

  Samair closed her eyes, listened to the music, and let herself go. Joey’s body rubbed against hers and the two girls danced as if they belonged together. As if it hadn’t been almost three years since the last time.

  Heat began to build inside her and Samair opened her eyes to scan the mass of bodies on the dance floor. “It’s a bit of a high, isn’t it?” Joey’s voice was husky as she moved closer.

  Samair lost track of time as they danced with abandon, bumping and grinding against each other, lost in the flashing lights and loud music. The heat of many eyes landed on her, and she enjoyed every minute of it. Joey’s soft and feminine hands floated over Samair’s generous curves, and she shifted closer as one of those hands slid under the cover of her hair. Joey put her forehead against Samair’s, and the women gazed into each other’s eyes.

  “It’s been a long time, Sammie.” Joey’s breath floated over her lips.

  “It has,” she replied, trailing her own hands teasingly over Joey’s bare back as she writhed against her. “I’m sorry.”

  Both of Joey’s hands cupped her head and she spoke clearly. “You never need to apologize to me. I’m just happy to see you.”

  The she kissed her. A hard kiss on the lips that lingered for just a second. When they pulled apart, it was to hoots of approval and raucous clapping.

  “Welcome back, Trouble.”

  They shifted apart, and Joey gave another piercing rebel yell. Samair’s grin was a mile wide as she slipped between the bars of the cage and dropped back to the carpeted floor that edged the dance floor. Her heart was pounding and her breath came in pants, but she couldn’t remember when she’d felt better.

  Reaching between the bars, she grabbed her backpack from the floor of the cage and snatched up the blouse she’d removed while dancing. After using it to pat her neck and upper chest dry, she reached for the drink she’d set aside earlier. The ice had melted, but it quenched her thirst well enough.

  A bead of sweat trickled between her breasts and she thought about reaching down to wipe there, but reconsidered when she felt intent eyes still on her. She might not be shy, but she wasn’t tacky, either.

  “You’d think they’d never seen a woman in a camisole before,” she said when Joey dropped down to the floor beside her.

  “It’s not that. My God, look around you. There’s more bare skin in Risqué than on the beach most of the time.” Joey laughed and threaded her arm around Samair’s. “It’s the fact that your camisole is this virginal white satin and lace thing that looks downright naughty at the same time. It’s one of yours, isn’t it?”

  Samair nodded and felt a sting of pride. She’d made the top herself. Her passion for sewing, combined with her curvy and slightly disproportionate body, had her creating clothes, including lingerie, for herself that fit and looked good since she was sixteen.

  “You don’t think it might be because you stripped me of my blouse and then kissed me?”

  “Ya think?” Joey giggled and steered her to the back wall where there was small group of people at a booth. “What can I say? I’m happy to see you.”

  While they walked the hairs on the back of Samairs neck stood up and she glanced around. Someone was watching her again. Closely.

  “Everyone, this is Samair. Sammie, this is…everyone.” She laughed and waved at hand at the five others sitting in the booth.

  “I’m Rob.” The guy closest to her held out his hand. After shaking her hand, he pointed to each of the others as he rattled off their names. “That’s Tara, Kelly, Jason, and Savannah.”

  Each of them was dressed to the nines, with a unique individual style that bared a lot of ski
n and cleavage. They were one sexy bunch, and obviously some of Joey’s dancer friends. The waitress arrived at the table and Joey ordered two tequila and water’s. Samair added her order of two as well.

  “One of those was for you,” Joey said as they sat down.

  “I know, but I want two, and you’re going to keep up with me.” She met her friends’ raised eyebrows with a grin.

  “Not a problem, little girl.” Joey replied smartly. “So tell me what’s new. I haven’t talked to you in almost two months, and I haven’t seen you in— Geez! In what? Three years?”

  “Something like that.” Samair glanced around the table of strangers. Even though none of them appeared to be listening, she didn’t want to think about how her day had gone.

  Hell, she didn’t want to think about how her life had gone. She just wanted to be with someone who knew her, and have a good time. “Can I tell you about it tomorrow?”

  “Am I going to see you tomorrow?”

  “Sure, I’m staying at your place for a while.”

  Joey’s eyes widened for a split second before a huge grin split her face and she squealed happily. Samair relaxed and let out the breath she hadn’t even been aware she was holding.

  She hadn’t been a very good friend the last couple of years. Joey had been the one who’d tried to keep them in contact while Samair had been too busy to go to the bar with her or even call her back half the time. It was her fault they’d lost contact, and she was thankful Joey wasn’t the type of friend who would hold it against her.

  “Excuse me.” The waitress leaned over Samair’s shoulder and she shifted in her seat so the girl could reach the table. She pulled some cash out of her pocket and waitress shook her head. “The drinks are on the house.”