Magnificent Ruin (Everlasting Series Book 2)

by Alison Foster

  MAGNIFICENT RUIN

  The Everlasting Series #2

  by

  Alison Foster

  ©2015 by Alison Foster

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, or by electronic, mechanical or other means, without permission in writing from the author.

  mailto:authoralisonfoster@gmail.com

  Everybody tells me to stay away from him. But some impulses are too strong to fight.

  What if you could save somebody by loving them?

  My name is Taylor Donahue and I’m about to make the biggest mistake of my life.

  I’m faced with a mystery that starts on a breathtaking Greek island with a sexy, yet notorious bad boy, Tomas Keller. He’s as hot as the sun and as hard to catch as the wind. His lies are as beautiful as his truths are painful.

  His is a world of dark secrets. This much I know. He digs deeper into my soul than any man ever dared to before. Every step away from him makes me fall ever deeper into the web of his mysterious life. I can't get him out of my mind.

  The mystery of the missing girl and the rage of a murderous mob boss threaten his very existence, but I can't help but play with his fire. Tomas is bigger than life. Danger follows him like a deathly shadow.

  How do I stop him from getting under my skin?

  Note: this standalone, suspense romance novel contains some mature themes and situations. This is the second book in the Everlasting Series but can be read independently. Get the first book, Beautiful Ruin!

  “These fragments I have shored against my ruins…”

  T.S. Eliot – The Waste Land

  Chapter 1

  The careless ocean breeze enters through the half-open window and lands on my tanned skin like silk. Truth be told, it is not quite an ocean that roars outside my window, but rather the celebrated Aegean Sea where fabled Ulysses meandered through the multitude of magical Greek isles.

  It’s past midnight and I’m sweating profusely, unable to ease myself into deep sleep, so the touch of the cool air is more than welcome. I may have had a little too much to drink at the Phoenix Royale earlier tonight and now I feel more alert than sedated. It’s the usual effect alcohol has on me.

  A month has gone by since Tomas and I arrived on the island but it feels longer. We have spent endless days languishing in this paradise, taking long walks on the hot sands, shining under the golden sun, sipping iced coffee and playing backgammon until the day dims to night.

  It’s strange that only weeks have passed since I was drowning in all kinds of commitment, duty and responsibility, trying to set up five new aromatherapy shops in hotels owned by my best friend’s future in-laws.

  To discover I’m not cut out to be a business owner was sobering. Maybe the ever sarcastic Tomas is right when he tells me I’m too young for such insipid drivel and should aim solely for a good time.

  Nathan and Grace were good enough to cover for me back home. Without them this temporary life of simple frivolity would not have been possible. I know it can’t last forever but it has been exactly what the doctor ordered.

  I turn to my side to face the window so the ocean breeze directly blows on my chest, chilling my nipples. A moment later, his hand reaches over to cup one breast warmly, almost possessively.

  The shock freezes me for a moment before I grab his hand. When he tightens his grip, I try to pry his fingers open. It’s pointless, his grip is viselike. I turn to face him. “What the fuck?” I protest. “Why are you in my bed?”

  He grins into my eyes, licking his luscious lips. “Because you want me here.”

  “No, I really don’t,” I say without much conviction. I can’t rule out the possibility that he’s right. We’re adults after all, living under the same roof and hanging out all the time, not to mention that he’s smart, charming in his own perverse way, and hot as hell.

  He disregards my words and takes my face in his hands, his mouth diving onto mine for a long, wet kiss. He tastes good, more than good, masculine, sweet and dangerous all at the same time. His tongue is hot and incredibly nimble, expertly awakening thousands of nerve endings on my own tongue.

  I kiss him back, figuring it can’t hurt to just explore that passionate mouth of his for a while, before I shove him off the bed for good.

  Things don’t go as planned in my head. He swiftly rolls his body over mine without breaking from our kiss for a single second. As he lies on top of me, it becomes clear that he’s stark naked just like me, his long, thick erection pressing urgently against my hip.

  His mouth leaves mine to travel down my neck with soft kisses, finding the goose bump trail that leads all the way to my chest. Now would be the time to kick him out of the room but I find myself helplessly curious as to what he plans to do next.

  I don’t have to wait long. His lips pucker around one nipple until they’re sucking hard on it. A tinge of pain dissolves quickly into a sweet taut feeling as my nipple stiffens inside his mouth. His right hand squeezes and massages my other breast expertly.

  Waves of pleasure attack my skin, making the most intimate parts of me throb and tremble. I grab him by the hair, pulling him off the wet, hardened nipple.

  “You need to stop,” I say, breathlessly.

  “That’s not what I need,” he says, tracing my lips with two fingers.

  He kisses the side of my neck again, trailing its outline with his tongue before his hot breath hits my ear. “Spread your legs,” he says with a commanding voice that’s probably the sexiest thing I have ever heard.

  I resist his command. I’m not used to taking orders, especially not from an arrogant man like Tomas Keller who can be every bit as irritating as he is sexy.

  My reluctance doesn’t faze him. He lifts his head to lock his eyes onto mine. “Be a good girl and spread for me,” he says in a softer voice.

  Oh, what the hell? We’re in my bed and he’s already managed to turn me on beyond reason. His green eyes and the casual tone in his voice have me hypnotized. I obey, opening wide for him, exposing myself to his scrutiny.

  “There, it wasn’t that hard,” he says and a moment later his face is between my legs.

  “I’m going to regret this,” I whisper to hide the fact I’m totally uninterested in conversation.

  “I’ve always imagined what your pussy would look like,” he says, using a finger to open my moistening flower.

  I let a sigh out and instinctively tighten the muscles in my thighs and butt. The man has driven me insane with the tip of one finger. How can he do that to me? Why am I making it so easy for him? We’re supposed to be friends. And not the kind that comes with benefits. I’ve never wanted to make Tomas’s long list of conquests.

  “Lovely,” I hear him say now, right before he presses a finger inside me. “Like the rest of the girl.”

  He starts fucking me with two fingers, thrusting them deeper, slowly at first, so I have time to properly appreciate every hot sensation. He increases pace roughly as he lowers his face to rasp his tongue over my clit, running pressure circles around it.

  I feel like I’m about to lose my mind, leave my conscious self behind and just turn into an animal that’s been set loose after years in captivity.

  “It’s been so long,” I whisper as I near an orgasm that I know will be savage and powerful. Nothing else matters, just the tender way he touches me where I need him the most.

  The moment I begin to moan, he stops licking me and pulls his fingers out of me, leaving me swimming in a sea of frustration and anger. I literally cannot control my fury. It’s like I’m a toddler and he’s taken away my favorite piece of candy. “I knew you’re not to be trusted,” I growl at him. �
�Fucking Tomas Keller only cares for himself.”

  “Stop whining,” he whispers, as he slowly crawls over me like a powerful boa, gripping my wrists and stretching my arms over my head.

  His hot, muscular, strong body hovers an inch above mine, his chest brushing against the tips of my nipples.

  “I’m sorry,” he says, almost as if blowing the words into my ear. “I can’t wait any longer. I have to fuck you.”

  With those words, he takes his rock-hard erection in his hand and gently presses just the thick head into me. Now it’s me who can’t wait. I free my hands from his grip and cup his ass cheeks, pulling his hips closer until his luxurious cock invades me to the core.

  The penetration is deep and brutal. He fills me up so unapologetically, I want to scream. He plunges inside me again, trying to get deeper, stretching me wider as he swells. I immediately wrap my legs around his hips wanting more and more, wanting to be destroyed by his expanding size.

  I welcome every powerful thrust with moans and scratches along his spine. He doesn’t seem to mind the discomfort my long nails inflict on him. If anything, he enjoys my impertinence and need, slamming into me faster and harder every time my nails hook themselves onto his skin.

  I’m drowning in a mounting pleasure that’s blinding my vision. I’m floating above the bed, out of my body. I shut my eyes and let the rest of my senses guide me to an unbelievable crescendo of a staggering orgasm. Everything explodes in me at once and all I can do is squeal out his name – Tomas!, Tomas!, Tomas! – again and again as the throbbing between my legs intensifies to a sustained pulse that blurs out everything.

  I orgasm for what seems like an eternity when the breeze from the window turns into a gust. I get a weird feeling in my stomach, almost as if it’s trying to escape the confinement of my body, and forcefully push Tomas aside to sit up on the bed with my eyes wide open.

  I’m shocked and embarrassed to discover the window is shut, the room is quiet and I’m in my nighty, sweating with a pounding heart.

  “What the fuck was that?” I mutter, as the realization settles in that I’ve just had an erotic dream, the first in a really long time. And with Tomas of all people as the star. That’s awkward.

  I try to catch my breath, inhaling and exhaling slowly by counting to seven every time. As soon as I calm down enough to get my bearings, I’m jolted into a new state of panic as I realize someone’s in bed with me.

  I let out a scream and jump from the bed as if hit by a megavoltage of electricity.

  He springs up to his feet, rubbing his eyelids to wake himself up.

  “Why are you in my bed, Tomas?” I shriek, totally confused and unable to determine if I’m awake or dreaming still.

  “Will you calm the fuck down?” he says with a devilish grin, putting a finger to his lips. His grin always makes me want to smack it right back off his arrogant face.

  “I will calm down when you tell me why you’re in my bed,” I say in a lower voice this time.

  “Okay,” he says, “just get back in bed and I’ll fucking tell you. I have a splitting headache and you’re making it exponentially worse.”

  I sit on the edge of the bed, the whole time keeping my eyes on him as he sits down on the opposite side.

  “I met Mark and Haley at the bar. They were completely loaded and not in any condition to drive back to their hotel in Molyvos so I told them they could spend the night here. I let them have my bed.”

  He speaks slowly as if talking to an idiot. Mark and Haley are an outrageous Australian couple Tomas introduced me to a few days ago. He himself met them at a nightlong bonfire party at the beach and took an instant liking to them, simply because they dressed in identical khakis and T-shirts and could gulp down copious amounts of booze faster than him. At least, that’s the story he told me. You never know with Tomas.

  “Why couldn’t you sleep on the couch?” I say, already tired by the whole conversation. “Why did you have to sneak in my bedroom and scare the shit out of me?”

  “We have no couch,” he says with a yawn.

  My bad. He’s right. We had to give the couch out for cleaning after another of his drinking buddies emptied his intoxicated stomach all over the upholstery. No matter how hard Tomas and I tried, we could not get rid of the sour stink until we threw in the towel and called the pros from the island’s capital, Mytilene, to solve the problem.

  My own behavior startles me. I double check to make sure I’m not in the nude, just as an extra precaution, and then stare at his boxer briefs which I’m assuming he kept on as a courtesy to me – he likes to sleep naked as I’ve had the pleasure of witnessing on a few occasions. Did I just say pleasure? I blush at the thought I might have been vocal during my wet dream, maybe even calling out his name. But then again he’d be all over me with his sarcasm in full display had that been the case. Nope, he’s clueless.

  “Seriously, what the hell, Taylor? Since when are you such a prude? Can we, please, pretty please, go back to sleep?” he says, yawning even louder than before.

  I can’t think of a good excuse to kick him out of my bedroom, which is his bedroom after all. I’m a guest, in reality. It would be rude and ungrateful to tell him he has to sleep on the floor, wouldn’t it? And he’s right. I’m not a prude and I can hold my own in any situation.

  “Wait a moment, I think I know what’s going on,” he says, squinting. “I’m making you uncomfortable. I didn’t know I had this effect on you.”

  Guess what, Mr. Cocky Pants, I didn’t know that either. Not until this very night. “You wish,” I say, getting under the blue sheet next to him. “Just make sure you don’t snore or kick in your sleep.”

  “And you just make sure you don’t tickle me if I do,” he says, turning his back on me.

  I wait for a moment, staring at his back. “Okay, I’ll bite. What will happen if I tickle you when you snore?”

  “You don’t want to know,” he says and a moment later he begins to fake snoring.

  I am tempted to tickle him, more than tempted actually, but as I watch the firm, smooth muscles along his spine contract as if getting prepared for an attack, a thought enters my head that makes me change my mind and turn my back on him. A single thought: “He’s so fucking hot.”

  This is going to be one long summer.

  Chapter 2

  There’s not much for me to do when I step into the small rustic kitchen with the open window facing the ocean. The dishes have been done and there’s coffee brewing in the coffee machine. There’s no sign of Tomas or his guests, Mark and Haley, either. I don’t know what time he left my bed but I managed to sleep in. According to the big rooster clock on the wall, it’s almost ten.

  I get a cup of coffee with a few drops of almond milk and steal a glance at the vanilla cookies left on a plate on the table. I push aside the sugary temptation with a shake of my head and walk through the glass door to the small back porch.

  The house is an interesting mix of traditional local architecture and modern comforts and arrangement. Built only a few years ago, it outwardly blends in with the century-old houses of the nearby fish village although it’s substantially bigger than most houses. Whoever owns this place is loaded and, obviously, very trusting of Tomas who has the keys for the duration of the year.

  Tomas is in the garden in his white Bermuda shorts and nothing else. He’s practicing tai chi on the grass like he does on most mornings—that is, when he’s not struggling with a blinding hangover. The fact that he’s exercising means he wasn’t that intoxicated last night.

  This morning he looks fresh and focused. If I didn’t know better, I’d have to wonder if Mark and Haley really spent the night or if Tomas decided to play some trick on me, although this type of joke wouldn’t be typical of him.

  The memory of my totally inappropriate dream returns out of the blue, making me blush as I watch my gorgeous half-naked roommate move as if in slow motion only a few yards away, extending his arms while his body sways rhythmically from
left to right and vice versa.

  The bastard is heartbreakingly perfect and he knows it. His muscles are so exquisitely defined he could be a Greek statue. His skin has turned golden under the Aegean sun and his dirty blond hair has bleached to a delightful bronzy color. Maybe that’s what my own hair would look like if I didn’t color it every four weeks to keep it spotlessly shiny and unmistakably blonde.

  His movements get more energized as he leaps high and lands into a warrior pose several times. He does this kind of shit constantly. He runs and lifts weights and gulps down protein shakes every single day of his life.

  His obsession with his body annoys the shit out of me all of a sudden. We get it, Keller, you’re hot. Or does it really annoy me? Maybe the annoying part is the fact that I have caught myself more than once watching him while he works out. No wonder I ended up dreaming about him last night. The man’s a physical impossibility. And I’m acting like a budding schoolgirl.

  Seriously though, I don’t know how he can take such good care of his body and then abuse it the way he does—staying up late night after night, getting hammered and sleeping around like a dog in heat with whoever catches his eye. At least that’s the impression he wants to give me. He’s never actually brought anyone back home but it’s not like he spends every night here. I guess, in his mind, the less that his conquests know about him, the easier for him to slip away and never return to their beds. He’s an artist at deception and manipulation.

  “Hey!” he says in an amused voice, startling me. I’ve been deep in my own thoughts and failed to realize he’s finally spotted how I’ve been staring at him. “A penny for your thoughts,” he goes on, running his fingers through his sweaty hair.

  “They’re not even worth that much,” I say, taking a sip of my coffee.

  Holy fuck, I feel uncomfortable around him as if we truly had sex last night. Which makes no sense. This is not who I am at all. I’m funny and sarcastic and I don’t shy away. It’s been a really long time since I felt flustered around a man.