Forbidden Love (Needle's Kiss Book 3)

by Lola Stark

  I missed her and I craved her. My life was empty without her…just like yet another bottle.

  Haven

  Six and a half months. That was how long it’d been since I closed one chapter and started another. One hundred and eighty glorious days with a man who loved me in a way no man had ever loved me. We’ve shared more meals, conversations, sweet-nothings, hands held, stolen glances, and fevered kisses in those last months than I could count. Who knew that six months ago, a stranger would walk into my life and steal my heart away, while turning my world upside down and making me believe I was cherished and loved.

  I discovered he loved to wrap our pinkies together when we walked down the sidewalk. It was a simple gesture; a pinky-promise saying he’d never leave me. We may be on borrowed time, but I was blissfully happy and refused to think about when it might end.

  Once I learned Dylan was only temporarily renting his place—he hadn’t been planning on staying long so he didn’t sign a full year lease—it worked out to our advantage, because last month, we decided to move in together. It seemed like the logical thing to do considering we slept in the same bed every night anyway. Either I at his place or he was at mine. There was really no sense in keeping his place, which was mostly barren of…well, anything. Making new memories with Dylan in my apartment was one of my favorite parts. It became our apartment.

  Along with living together, I gathered some rather fascinating things. Dylan is a fabulous cook, but he color-codes his food. He didn’t like for things to touch on his plate, so serving was always a chore. He used separate containers when he could, and he only ate one thing at a time. The plus side was he loved to wash the dishes, so I never complained about how many place settings he would put to use for a single meal.

  He was also crazy tidy. If I wasn’t out of bed, he’d make it with me in it. It made me laugh every time when he made me into a blanket taco, almost daily. Some days I’d coax him back to the softness of the sheets and my warm body with promises of sweet desserts and happy endings. It usually worked.

  I loved that he didn’t leave hair in the sink, or the toilet seat up. He had fast become the organization to my chaos. My closet had a floor again, and the top shelf was since filled with boxes of our memories. We documented everything. He wanted me to have a forever memory of him, something I could think about and remember, to get through the pain of losing him. In the last two months, we’d filled up two boxes with pictures, brochures, movie tickets, sweet notes, dried flowers, even napkins from our favorite restaurants. It was been amazing making memories of us; every sad to silly moment counted.

  Dylan frequently made stupid jokes that I found hilarious, ranging from cheesy one-liners to long, drawn out ‘three guys walked into a bar’ jokes. Most were just awful, but I couldn’t help myself, and would giggle every time. Yes, he still made me giggle, like a schoolgirl some days.

  We never argued. It was one of those relationships where everything just fell together. We were completely in sync. He knew when I was testy or hormonal and would stay silent, offering up chocolate and wine. I knew that when he was nervous or in pain, he paced. I did my part to listen and encourage.

  We’d had plenty of nervous days with the never-ending tests and check-ups for pain management. But I wouldn’t trade any of it. Not one single moment of being with Dylan would I regret for all my life. Despite being my complete opposite, he filled every jagged hole in my heart perfectly. He was my knight in shining armor, and Prince Charming wrapped up in one sweet, southern, cowboy package.

  We just…fit.

  My mind drifted to one of the many memories Dylan and I had made together.

  I skirted around him and snatched the bottle of wine that sat on the other side of him. Dylan reached out with his grabby hands and squeezed my bum, trying to distract me again.

  “And just what do you think you’re doing, cowboy?” Reaching up to pull down two wine glasses from the cabinet above my head, I laughed.

  “I’m giving my compliments to the chef.” He came up behind me and placed his hands on the bare skin where my shirt had ridden up. He dropped a kiss on my neck and ran his hands around the front of my abdomen.

  “Is this how you thank everyone who cooks for you?” I gently put the wine glasses down on the counter in front of me, and turned the silver twist-top lid off the bottle.

  “Only the really special ones.” I felt his lips tip up into a smirk against my skin before I heard his snicker.

  “Don’t be a tease.” I laughed with him. Dylan spun me around and pressed me up against the kitchen counter.

  I felt his excitement before he fully pressed against me, his erection large and in charge. “Is that a gun your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” I quipped, my expression matching his.

  “Oh, sugar, you know it’s always you. I’m never armed with more than what you see before you. Every inch belongs to you and I fully intend on using that to my utmost advantage.” His words were rough and low, a promise of what was to come.

  “I like what you’re sayin’, cowboy. Why don’t you take me to bed and show off what you’re packin’?” I shivered in anticipation, but didn’t wait for a response. I turned in his grasp and let my ass rub against him. I slowly turned the cap on the wine, and poured two generous glasses.

  I picked each up and handed one to Dylan as I took a sip from the other.

  “Yummm…” My lips made a loud smacking sound as I swallowed. The flavors of pear and honeysuckle fresh on my tongue.

  He watched as I took another swallow of the sweet white Pinot; each time I made a different sound of enjoyment. “Boy, what I wouldn’t give to be that glass or that wine. He took a swig of his own. “Those sounds you’re making sure it make it difficult to keep my hands to myself.”

  I looked at Dylan, my eyes sparkling. “Then don’t.”

  And with that, he took my glass, set them both on the counter and threw me over his shoulder. My hair fell into my face and I started to sputter through the laughter that had attacked my system. “Put me down, caveman!” I scolded, my words holding no merit between fits of giggles.

  He swatted my butt as he walked down the hall. “Calm yourself, woman. I need to take you to bed.”

  Jude

  This was what living hell felt like.

  I stood no more than ten-foot from the glowing happy couple who stood cuddled up, laughing and blissful. My heart lay under Haven’s six-inch purple heels, and she was none the wiser.

  Family barbeques were now my own personal nightmare.

  I walked into the kitchen, attempting to get as far away from the happy couple as possible. The boys were outside running circles around the adults in their chairs, chatting about whatever the day had brought them. I could hear their delighted screams when someone would catch them briefly for a tickle or a kiss.

  A kiss. That kiss. The last one I had with Haven before she ripped my heart to shreds on her living room floor. A kiss I just witnessed between her and dickwad outside. I slammed my palms to the counter and hung my head. “Mother—”

  “Don’t even think about finishing that sentence in my house, mijo.” Ma came into the kitchen wiping her hands on her apron. “What’s the matter that you have to swear like that, hmm?” Her large brown eyes stared at me, wide with concern.

  “I love your daughter,” I blurted. Her gasp had me second-guessing my confession. “Mace didn’t tell you?” I asked, shocked he would keep something like that from his mother. “I thought for sure he would’ve said something…but don’t worry. I also know she doesn’t love me and I’m not going to cause problems for her with McFu—Dylan.” I hung my head and shrugged, waiting for Maria to say something.

  She didn’t. She just stared at me. Her expression was filled with pure adoration as she walked up to where I was and put both of her hands on my face. “You, my son, are a good man.” She kissed both cheeks and continued, “My Haven is a lucky girl. She has two men who love her.” I saw her smile falter as she paused
to gather her words. “Just remember, old love can be made new again under extenuating circumstances.” She patted my scruff-lined jaw and moved toward the stove. “Can you please go check on the barbeque? I don’t know if your brothers are watching it.”

  And just like that, I was dismissed. Her words not lost on me as I made my way back to the hell-on-earth backyard, where the love of my life was basking in the glow of the love of hers.

  Haven

  Spending the day with Dylan, while surrounded by my family was everything I had hoped it would be. The sun was shining but it wasn’t too hot. A light breeze blew every so often, rustling the leaves in the trees and lifting my skirt. I had to hold it down a few times, the gusts pulling up Marilyn-Monroe style; the fact I was without panties was definitely not something I wanted to share with the world.

  Dylan and I laughed as we talked with my Tia, and my Abuela, cracking inappropriate jokes at his expense. It was no secret they adored Dylan. I loved how freely they accepted him into our family unit. I even caught one of them trying to steal a kiss.

  Dylan being ever the gentleman, quietly obliged, his face crimson from bashfulness. “Abuela, you’re so bad!” I admonished. “Leave my boyfriend alone.” I smiled and tsked her when she looked back at me, a devious grin on her face.

  “Oh, Haven!” She swatted my bottom. “There’s plenty to go around. Humor an old lady.” With that, she turned back toward Dylan, grabbed his flushed cheeks and laid a nice, wet kiss on his plump, pink lips.

  The laughter that followed was our soundtrack for the day.

  If it weren’t for Dylan being by my side, I may have crumbled being there. As it was, I cringed when I spotted my mother kissing his cheeks in the kitchen. I knew she loved him like a son. It just didn’t make it any easier to see him with all the other people I loved.

  I felt torn. I loved Jaxson and Jordan more than anything, and I knew Ma did too. Because of them, I would endure seeing Jude over and over again. I just hoped it didn’t do more harm than good when it came to his feelings for me.

  He had made his choice and I had made mine. I loved Dylan and I wouldn’t hide it, nor would I pretend everything was okay with Jude when it wasn’t. Finally over him, I had moved on and found a light in my darkness. It may only be temporary, but I was going to hold on with everything, I had until Dylan’s last breath.

  I only hoped Jude would someday find the same thing. Someone to love and cherish him, to give him the love he too deserved.

  “Hey, sugar, where’d you go?” Dylan’s query broke through my thoughts like the sun after a thunderstorm.

  I gave him a warm smile. “Just thinking about my family.” A look of sadness swept across Dylan’s face, but he recovered and quirked his lip up at me. “Your family is pretty amazing, Haven. You are very blessed to have this many people who love and care about you.” He nodded to my cousins as they walked by, chatting idly about what games they saw or something of the sort. “Your grandma,” he shook his head, “Abuela, sorry. She’s probably my favorite person ever. And not a bad kisser either.” I let out a full-on belly laugh with his proclamation, grabbing my stomach and leaning forward to emphasize the reaction.

  “What?” He looked surprised. “I’m serious, I bet she was a man-eater in her day!” I couldn’t help it, my laughter rang out through the yard and everyone seemed to stop in their tracks, watching the spectacle I was making of myself.

  When I could finally catch my breath, I shooed everyone away and turned toward my man. “You are something else. I love you.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

  “Oh, she’s got nothing on you, sugar,” Dylan murmured, his forehead resting against mine. He kissed me again, melding his mouth with mine, our tongues dancing and swirling with an affectionate passion that I’d come to know and expect when he kissed me.

  It was my lift-off into bliss. That soaring feeling I got whenever he touched me. That affliction I’d come to crave from him. With him. Dylan replaced the dark with light and the only thing I couldn’t get enough of was him.

  “What do you say we get out of here so I can love you properly without your family as an audience?” Dylan wrinkled his nose and pressed it to my forehead, his lips in line with my nose. “I know you don’t have panties on under that dress, sugar. How long did you think I’d be able to stand not having my hands on you?” He was full of naughty promises in the sweetest possible way. I couldn’t wait to spend the night, just like every night, loving on Dylan.

  “I’ll talk to Ma and see how much longer it will be before dinner. We can’t leave until we’ve at least eaten—you know she’s gone through a mess of trouble to get us all here.” I batted my eyelashes. “And no one is fighting. C’mon, let’s go see if we can help.” Clasping his pinky with mine, I led us toward the rest of the party.

  I turned and looked back at the man who held my hand and my heart. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see what I have under this dress…or don’t for that matter.”

  I turned back as I felt Dylan’s hand clasped to mine sweep across my bottom and onto my lower back. He gave me a little squeeze. “Don’t tease, sugar,” he breathed into my hair, before pulling back a respectable distance and resuming his hold on my pinky with his.

  I blushed. Hard.

  This man had me wrapped up in him and I never wanted to come undone.

  “Dyl?” I pushed up off the bed and called out again, “Dyl, You okay?”

  Silence.

  “Dylan?” Cold fear washed over me. The second he stood from bed, he’d looked pale and made a run for the bathroom. The sounds that followed were hard to listen to. His sickness was getting worse and instead of waking and spending an hour cuddling in bed, he’d head straight to the bathroom and vomit until there was nothing left in his stomach. I hated so much that I couldn’t help him. I felt useless. He was sick and I couldn’t do a damn thing to help him.

  I turned the bathroom door handle and pushed. “Dylan?” I called as I walked in. His crumpled body, lying face down on the floor, made my heart stop in its place. “Dylan!” I screeched, my heart falling into the pit of my stomach as I ran to his side and dropped to my knees. Scolding hot lava pierced my heart, turning my body numb. Fear unlike any I had ever experienced threatened to swallow me completely as my unresponsive body struggled to catch up with the racing of my mind.

  I turned him over. Feeling for a pulse, my prayers mixed with pleas for him to be okay. I yelled louder, my dread unbearable, while unable to hear over the blood roaring in my ears. My racing heart was anxious to leave my chest and beat inside his. Forcing myself to move, I shot up off the ground and ran for the phone the moment I found his present, but weak, heartbeat. “Stay with me, Dyl,” I cried, calling 911.

  “I need paramedics. Hurry, please!” I grabbed his clammy hand and held it tightly, praying to God, this wasn’t the moment I would lose him. Not lying on the cold bathroom floor of our apartment. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end and I’d be damned if I would give up, I wasn’t ready to say goodbye and I would sell my soul to the devil himself if I had to in order to afford me more time. I wanted, no, needed more time. “Please hurry! I can’t lose him.”

  “Can you please tell me what the hell is happening?” I begged the older nurse at the hospital reception.

  “The doctor will be out in just a minute, dear. I’m sorry but I can’t tell you anything else right now.” She looked at me sympathetically and guided me back to the empty row of chairs at the back of the room. “Can I call anyone for you?”

  “I…umm.” I mulled her question around in my head for a moment before frowning. “No. There’s nobody to call,” I told her. Dylan had no one. He had no family, no ties to anyone but me. I was the last person he had. The memory of him would die with me…just like he would. I sent up the millionth prayer asking for more time.

  “Miss Torres?” a professional male voice called. I looked up from my hands that lay limp in my lap.

  “Yes,�
� I answered in a croaky voice. “That’s me.” I shot up out of my seat over to the doctor who’d just come from behind the large white doors which separated Dylan and myself for the last two hours.

  “Miss Torres. You’re listed as Dylan’s next of kin.” He looked solemn and full of news I didn’t think he wanted to give me. “Can you come with me, please?”

  I followed behind him the loud beeps of machines clouding my mind. The strong smell of antiseptic overwhelmed me, bringing back unpleasant memories of a time in my life when I was the one attached to those machines. The beeping reminiscent of an annoying child banging on a table in a quiet restaurant, the sterile smell of medicine to mask the stench of death that lurked behind each curtain. My stomach threatened to upturn its contents at the thought of how close I was to death, and now it felt like I was experiencing it all over through someone else’s mind and body, Dylan’s.

  “Through here, please.” The Doctor led me into a stark white room filled with a small lounge setting and a coffee table with nothing but an open box of tissues on it.

  “Why are we in here? Where’s Dylan? What’s going on? Is he okay?” I fired my questions at him thinking the worst. This little room was where they took families to tell them their loved ones had died…I was sure of it. Tears flowed down my face again. Sobbing, I asked again. “Where is he?”

  “He is alive, Miss Torres.” The doctor passed me a tissue and took a seat, indicating for me to do the same thing. “Please sit. I need to give you some details.”