So Wrong
A Second Chance Fake Marriage Romance (Heart of Hope Book 3)
Ajme Williams
Contents
Description
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
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
Imperfect Love (Preview)
More Books in the Series
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Copyright © 2020 by Ajme Williams
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of authors imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers only.
All characters are 18+ years of age and all sexual acts are consensual.
Cover Photo Credit: Shutterstock.com
Description
One plan.
One fake marriage.
One big disaster.
Everything about Dylan melts me.
He’s more than that ripped chest… those strong arms.
The best thing about him is his daughter.
The daughter that I babysit.
He shares Maisie with his ex-wife.
But I see the concern in his eyes.
He wants his daughter to be loved, to be safe.
…and he needs my help.
A fake marriage with me would win him the custody battle.
The only hiccup?
I let him take my V-card and get me pregnant.
I shouldn’t have kept it a secret.
Now, I have a baby and divorce papers on the way.
After all, our relationship was always fake…
Or was it?
Prologue
Dylan Hyatt was nearly perfect, with his flawlessly sculpted body, sexy smile, and most attractive of all, the love he had for his daughter. But he was wrong about me. The reason I was still a virgin at twenty-three had nothing to do with waiting for Mr. Right, although if I was, he would be Dylan Hyatt. I wasn’t a prude nor a believer in fairy tales of saving myself for marriage, although I’d admit I enjoyed fantasizing about true love where Dylan was concerned. It was probably why, for some reason, I’d just confessed that I was a card-carrying virgin.
“I’m not waiting for my life mate,” I said, digging my thumbs into his shoulder blades as I massaged away the tension. I wondered if I could release more than his tension and make him forget his ex-wife.
“Then what are you waiting for?” he asked with a groan and sigh as I felt his muscles begin to relax.
“Opportunity and desire.”
He turned, shifting to sit looking at me. We were close, and I bit my lower lip to stop a groan as I got a front row seat to his magnificently full mouth.
“I find it hard to believe you haven’t had both already.”
The way his eyes shifted down to my lips made my mouth water to taste him. I was one misstep from embarrassing myself by launching into his arms. “Opportunity, yes; desire, not so much.”
“You don’t feel desire?”
My entire body tingled with it.
“I can’t imagine there aren’t plenty of good-looking guys on campus,” he finished.
I shrugged. “Desire isn’t just about looks.” Not for me anyway. For someone like Dylan, maybe looks were important. After all, his ex-wife was a model. I wasn’t ugly, but I wasn’t in her league.
“So what gets your engine going, Tessa?”
He was teasing me, which made me feel even more like a dumb school girl for the fact that I was ready to rip his shirt off and run my tongue over every hard plain of his chest.
Even feeling silly, my libido decided to test the waters. “Sculpted pecs.”
He smiled playfully, but shifted as if he was uncomfortable. “You should come to the gym. We’ve got lots of those.”
“Kind. Smart. Funny.” I took a breath as I prepared to say something that would either lead to losing my V-card once and for all, or humiliating myself. “Someone like you.”
His gaze, which had been lingering on my lips, jerked up to mine. He stilled, and I immediately prepared myself to run out of his home feeling like an idiot.
“Me?”
I nodded, or at least I tried to. I was paralyzed.
“I’m too old for you.” His voice lowered, not in volume but in pitch. At least he didn’t seem revolted.
“Six years isn’t that big of a difference.”
“In life experience it is.” He looked down. “I’m a divorced single father.”
“So?”
He lifted his head, and I saw a resolve to send me off. “So, you’re a young woman with her life ahead of her.”
I rolled my eyes. “You make it sound like you don’t have anything to look forward in your life.”
“I have baggage. A lot of it.”
“Maisie isn’t baggage.” I spoke softly, feeling like he was withdrawing from me.
“She’s the best thing in my life. My life is hers now. Totally and completely. I have nothing to offer a woman. You deserve to have a man who does, especially the first time.”
I frowned. “So you’ve given up on ever finding love again?” I could accept that I wasn’t the woman for Dylan even if I wanted to be, but I couldn’t believe that someday there wouldn’t be a woman that would make him and Maisie happy. I’d hate that woman even as I would be happy that he’d found love again.
“I’ve had step parents.” His eyes darkened in a way I hadn’t seen before. Clearly, something happened to him as a child. “I won’t put Maisie through that. And I certainly don’t want my heart stomped on again.”
As I stared into his dark eyes, my heart went out to him. I hated the people in his life that had hurt him and made him fearful of love.
“How come men are able to have sex because it’s enjoyable, but for a woman it needs to be some sort of fairy tale?” I asked.
“It doesn’t. But a woman who has waited as long as you usually does so for a reason.”
“You’ve had experience in this, have you?” I should have just shut up and gone home. Pushing him wasn’t going to change things, and in the end, I’d be more embarrassed than I already was.
He smiled sheepishly. “Actually, no. But having gotten to know you over the last year, I can see you’re not an impulsive woman. Everything you do is with a plan. Men, on the other hand, tend to be a slave to urges. It’s like an itch.”
“You don’t think women have urges?” I did. My entire body hummed with need for him to touch me.
“Yes. But they’re also able to control them. As you clearly do.”
I
was finding it hard not to lean forward through the foot-wide chasm between us and plant my lips on his. What kept me from following that urge was that his statement suggested that, as a man, he wouldn’t be able to control a sexual urge. I was practically throwing myself at him, so if he was a slave to his urge, he’d have taken me up on my clear offer. That meant he didn’t feel an urge with me. Of course, he didn’t. He saw me as a college kid, not a sensual woman.
Realizing I’d started leaning toward him, I shifted back, swallowing the burn of embarrassment.
“I’ve hurt your feelings,” he said, his voice soft and concerned. His empathy was another thing I loved about him. Why couldn’t he be a jerk?
I shook my head. “It’s not your fault that you don’t find me attractive.”
His brows narrowed. “I never said that.”
I pursed my lips in annoyance. “You just said men can’t control their urges. If that’s true, it means you have no urges around me.”
He stared at me for a long moment, and I had a feeling he was having a tug-of-war with himself.
“I have an urge,” he finally said.
“Don’t patronize me.” For some reason, his lying about it hurt me more than knowing I didn’t turn him on.
“You don’t believe me?”
“No.”
Again, he stared at me like he was trying to decide his next move. Finally, he took my hand and pressed it over his groin. My eyes widened as I felt the steel length of his arousal. I slid my fingers around it to gauge its girth. I ran them along the length. Like everything else about Dylan, it was impressive.
He hissed a breath. “See? Urge.”
My gaze went to his eyes, which were now blazing. It made my body heat up to scorching. I felt like I’d die if he didn’t touch me.
“I want to see you,” I said, my words coming out breathless.
“Tessa …”
I squeezed his dick hard, making him gasp.
“I’m not asking for something you can’t give.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking.” His voice was rough.
“I do. I’m not naïve, just inexperienced. I want to learn. I want you to teach me.” I stroked his dick again, loving how it felt. I desperately wanted to see it. To touch it without the barrier of his jeans.
“Ah, fuck, Tessa.”
I’d never heard him use the f-word before, and the sound of it, gruff and desperate, made my pussy throb.
I wouldn’t have thought of myself as being sexually brazen, so I wasn’t sure why I said, “I’ve had orgasms before. I think of you when I do.”
“Jesus … you don’t play fair.” His breathing was harsh as he looked at me. I could see need in his dark eyes and it made me feel powerful.
“I’m not playing, Dylan.” Taking a move from his book, I took his hand and put it over my breast. I gasped when his palm covered my sensitive nipple through my t-shirt and a wave of liquid desire washed through my body straight to my pussy. “I’m wet, too.”
He growled as his fingers pinched my nipple. “We’re going to regret this.”
I didn’t have a chance to deny it, because then his mouth captured mine. His kiss was hard, desperate, and all-consuming, sending a blaze of liquid heat through my veins. I gripped his head, wanting to stay like that forever. He tasted exactly like I thought he would, dark and sexy.
His hands slid under my shirt, pulling it up. I yanked it off and tossed it aside as he undid the front clasp and freed my breasts.
“Fuck.”
I looked into his face, wondering if he was going to stop.
His gaze lifted from my chest to my face. “You have amazing tits.”
It was the nicest thing he could have said. But I didn’t have time to respond because his mouth was sucking on a nipple, and the most delicious sensations coursed through my body as his mouth tugged and sucked.
I let out a gasp and held his head to my breast. I felt each suckle in my pussy and I wondered if I’d come just from that. How embarrassing that would be? To distract myself from the growing tension, I tugged at his shirt. He grabbed the back of his shirt over his head and yanked it off.
I pressed my palms to the most perfect sculpted chest I’d ever seen. I flicked my tongue over a nipple, loving the way he hissed in response.
“Tessa …”
There was something in his voice that had me worried he was about to put the brakes on. To make sure he didn’t, I quickly undid the button of his jeans, yanked the zipper down, and ran my finger over the tip of his dick. The skin was velvety soft and damp.
“Jesus,” he groaned. In a flurry of movement, we finished undressing, he pushed me back on the couch, and then his mouth was on my breasts again. I reached between us, wanting to touch him. To discover every long, thick inch of his dick.
It was amazing how much my body responded to him. My pussy throbbed with wanting him inside it. My nipples were hard and aching. I’d been aroused before, but never like this. Never like I’d die if I didn’t come.
“I want you,” I gasped as I tried to move my hips to meet his dick.
He reached for the condom packet he’d tossed on the coffee table when he’d shucked his pants off. He tore the foil and rolled it on. I watched with fascination, wondering if he’d fit inside me.
He knelt between my legs on the couch, putting one of my legs over the back of the couch and the other over his thigh.
“Be sure, Tessa.”
“I’m sure.” My hips instinctively lifted, needing contact with his body as sure as I needed my next breath.
“I’m going to try to take it slow, but fucking hell, I’m dying here.”
“Just do it.” God, please stop talking and fuck me already.
“It might hurt,” he said as he ran the tip of his dick through my folds and brushed over my clit.
I cried out. God if that felt so good, I could only imagine what it would be like when he was inside me. “Please, Dylan.” I squeezed my eyes shut as my body was ravaged by need.
When he didn’t do anything, I opened my eyes. He looked down on me, and I was sure he was going to stop.
“Tessa.”
“Fuck me, Dylan.”
He growled. “I’m going to hell for sure.” He pushed his dick inside me just a little bit, and I moaned as the sweetest sensations radiated from my pussy.
“Yes … so good … more.” My pussy was screaming to have all of him.
He withdrew and I was about to complain, when he pushed forward, this time sliding a little further until he hit a barrier. My body wanted this and at the same time resisted him.
“You’re so fucking tight.” His eyes squeezed shut. He took in a couple of deep breaths. This was it. He was finally going to give me exactly what I’d wanted from the day I’d met him. His gaze met mine. I nodded, letting him know I wanted this. I wanted him.
Then his eyes looked away, and my stomach clenched. He pulled out of me. “I’m sorry…I can’t.”
1
Tessa—Thursday, A Week Earlier
“And then Little Bear hugged his mama bear.” I held up the picture book showing the last page of the story. The group of twenty-two enraptured kindergarten students looked up at me from where they sat on the floor. My year as a student teacher was nearly over. While I liked the fact that I was halfway done with my Masters in Teaching program, I was going to miss seeing these little faces every day.
“I hug my mama,” little Sara Larson said.
“Me too,” several other students chimed in.
I looked at Maisie Hyatt, the one student in the class that didn’t have a mother. Well, she did, but her mother wasn’t involved in her life. Instead, she was raised by her father, who was the epitome of sexy single dad.
“Ms. Bremer.”
I looked up to where Mrs. Anderson called me. “Buses will be here shortly. Perhaps we can remind the students of our party tomorrow.”
I nodded. As Mrs. Anderson’s student teacher, she’d giv
en me a lot of rein to teach the class, but sometimes I got so involved, I lost track of time. “Mrs. Anderson reminded me that tomorrow is the last day of school.”
“Will you be our teacher next year?” Marie Caster asked.
“I don’t know who your teacher will be, but I know you’ll all be fantastic first graders.” The children beamed, and I marveled at how innocent and open they were. A little praise went a long way for kids this age. Plus, they were eager to learn.
I finished talking to the kids and then sent them by small groups to get their things and line up for the buses. Mrs. Anderson walked them to the loading area while I stayed behind to clean up the class and get it ready for tomorrow.
Maisie Hyatt sat at her table coloring as I wiped down the other tables. She always stayed with me after school because I was the one who took her home and babysat until her father got home from work.
“Can we make cookies for tomorrow still?” she asked me.
“Absolutely,” I said. “What do you want? Chocolate chip? Or we can make brownies.”
She looked up at me. “I don’t think I’ve had brownies. Are they good?”
I thought her father, Dylan Hyatt, was a wonderful father, but he was a bit strict with the yum yums. There were no sweets in the house, and Maisie was only allowed to have them on special occasions.
“Delicious. We’ll pick up the ingredients on the way home.” I’d made cookies with Maisie before, but Dylan always sent them home with me.
When Mrs. Anderson returned to the class, I met with her as I usually did to review the day. I thought she was a wonderful teacher and I was so thrilled to have worked with her this year. I was disappointed that I wouldn’t be able to work with her next year, the last year of my masters in teaching program. I’d have another placement, assuming I could figure out how to pay for school. I had terrific parents, but Dad was a cop and Mom was a teacher, so my education funds were depleted during my undergraduate studies. I had taken a few student loans, but since I was planning on being a teacher, a job that didn’t pay well to begin with, I didn’t want to take out more. As a result, unless I got a new scholarship or won the lottery, I wouldn’t be able to afford my last year of school. I had this summer to figure out how to pay for it.
So Wrong (Heart 0f Hope Book 3) Page 1