Emerging Temptation: A BWWM Romance Limited Edition Collection

by Peyton Banks

  Julian followed behind, thinking about everything they’d gone through in the past year. Morgan’s accident, which started them down the path to becoming a family. Julian’s injuries that pushed them to admit their love for each other. Their wedding. And now, they were having another child. Before that day, more than a year ago, he never thought he’d have a life like this. A loving family that supported him, a wife who championed him, even when he admitted his past failings and what he’d done to the man he’d caught in bed with his ex-girlfriend.

  When he’d first told her about the incident, she didn’t bat an eye. There was no pulling back or asking him how he could hurt someone that way, and no look of disappointment in her eyes. Kori asked him about the details of what happened that day, and he’d been honest. If she tried to leave him, he was determined to convince why they should stay together. He’d been ready to beg, plead, cut off his left pinky, whatever it took to make her never leave. When she simply nodded and wrapped her arms around him, telling him how much she loved him, Julian felt the vice surrounding his heart fall away. Later, after they made love, he began to question why she’d accepted what he’d done so easily? He never expected to have that type of response.

  Then he’d met Max and Kiana, and Nico and Lavinia. It explained everything. More than anything else, it helped settle his soul even further. Kori was made for him, and he’d spend the rest of his life proving to her that she’d made the right choice in choosing him to be her husband and the father of her children.

  Watching his wife walk toward him, he smiled. From the very first moment he saw her, she’d tempted him, made him want things he never thought would be available to him. She was his lover, his best friend, the mother of his children, and his healing angel.

  “Why are you looking at me like that, Julian?”

  “Because you’re just so goddamned beautiful.”

  She stopped in front of him and smiled. “Keep those thoughts to yourself until we get back tonight.”

  “Is that a promise?”

  “Sweetheart, that’s a Grade A guarantee.”

  About the Author

  Reana Malori is a USA Today Bestselling Author. She writes Contemporary romance focusing on Multicultural / Interracial couples. She firmly believes that love in all its forms should be celebrated and her stories reflect that belief. She hopes to weave stories that pull the reader into her world and helps them to share in her universe, even if only for a short time.

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  When not writing, you can most often find her enjoying a good book as she is, first and foremost, a romance reader. Reana currently resides in Montclair, Virginia with her husband and two sons who keep her busy laughing, having fun, and making sure she doesn’t take herself too seriously.

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  Main Website

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  Shook

  Blurb

  I am no longer a hero, but a hero is what she needs.

  * * *

  Oscar

  * * *

  I am trained to save lives, but it doesn’t prepare you for the ones you can’t save. The loss was so consuming; I gave it all up and left. Shani makes me feel needed. The sadness in her soul speaks to me, but my biggest fear is she will need me to save her. I can’t even save myself.

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  Shani

  * * *

  I believe in superheroes, but villains are real, too. I lived in fear for years until I found the courage to escape. My idea of love is full of humiliation and pain. Oscar makes me feel different. The sadness in his eyes draws me to him, but will my past me be too much for him to take.

  * * *

  Oscars past haunts him, but if Shani’s demons catch up with her, it could destroy them both.

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  Shook is a BWWM First Responders Romance Novella in the Emerging Temptations Anthology. If you like raw emotions, sizzling sex, then you’ll love Oscar and Shani’s story as they find true love all over again.

  Prologue

  Oscar

  After an explosion, before the mayhem, the world goes silent.

  The explosion itself was controlled. Then chaos ensued in the aftermath. The world no longer existed the way you expect. It defied logic. Sound hurt, oxygen burned, heat froze. And then there was silence; deafening silence. A contradiction to the madness. The world moved on fast forward and slow motion inside of my head. I couldn’t trust what I heard, felt or saw.

  I took inventory. My arms and legs were intact. I inhaled with a muffled groan and hugged myself. A broken rib. I ran my left hand up and down my torso, at least one, or more. I rose to my knees. A sharp pain shot up my right arm. I held my hand in front of my face. My index finger pointed at an awkward angle. I gripped it and pulled.

  Pop!

  It straightened and throbbed.

  My eyes blinked through the smoke and debris. I peeked around and assessed the scene in pieces. I couldn’t trust it in whole. My priority, get Shani to safety.

  I flopped backwards onto my ass; my arm protected my torso.

  “Shani. You okay?” I spoke but couldn’t hear the words. I touched my lips. They moved, but no sound reached my ears.

  I popped my ears and tried again.

  “Hello, hello.” Nothing. My lips moved. I articulated clearly in my head.

  Shani stood a few feet away, but came no closer. Her eyes bugged out of her head.

  I gripped the walls and slid up.

  I stepped forward and followed her gaze. I peeked into the cavernous hole in the center of her apartment.

  Not good.

  Move, Oscar.

  I pushed off the wall. The ground held firm under my feet, but my senses were off. I could be walking in quicksand. The floor could give out any second. I had no way of knowing.

  “Ugh.” I grabbed my head and a wave of nausea hit me. My skull constricted against my brain. I blinked and spots danced in front of my eyes. I stumbled back into the wall and held it until the room stopped swaying.

  Her gaze fell on me. The hope in her eyes spurred me to action. I knew what I needed to do. I was trained for this. I assessed the situation.

  My injuries: a broken finger, broken ribs, a concussion.

  Shani was conscious, alert, on her feet.

  I surveyed the damage and planned an escape route. My brain slid back into firefighter mode, and my mission was evident.

  Get Shani out alive.

  1

  Oscar

  It never failed. I could set my watch to it. Every morning at 7:22 am, she stepped out the door of the red brick brownstone across the street. She skipped down the steps, stopped, and looked both ways before jaywalking to the coffee shop.

  I stared at her, not because she was pretty, but the way she carried herself drew me in. I related to her, yet I had no clue why.

  She stepped inside to get her coffee. I arrived at the door as she came out.

  “Excuse me,” she whispered and looked up at me. Her eyes struck me. They were sad and soulful. I held the door open for her and she ducked under my arm. She sat at the nearest table outside the door.

  The aroma of cookies mixed with coffee lingered in the air. The cool morning air warmed as the sun rose into the sky. I stepped inside, and the door closed behind me with a thud. The baked cookies made the place feel like home. It reminded me of her and made me smile.

  “Mornin, Jim.” I waved, but the barista had his back towards me. The coffee shop had been a neighborhood staple for years. Jim’s family had owned it for the last twenty. He was good for a chat when the place slowed down. This morning a line snaked around the perimeter of the place.

  “Your coffee’s up.” He motioned towards the counter where three other cups sat.

  I picked up the only other twenty-ounce and read the labe
l.

  The name Shani scribbled on the side with a heart dotting the ‘i.’

  “Naw, this isn’t mine.” I held it up. “It belongs to someone named Shani.” I set the cup back on the counter.

  Jim shut off the blender, turned around, and wiped his hands on his apron. He was an older guy, in his fifties, short and thick. He adjusted his glasses and read the names on the other cups.

  “I just made it two seconds ago.” He scrunched his forehead and looked past me.

  I looked back and followed his gaze.

  “That’s Shani.” He pointed. “She might have picked up your drink by mistake.” He picked up her cup and stepped out from behind the bar. The line of coffee patrons groaned simultaneously.

  “Hey, don’t worry about it.” I plucked the cup out of his hand. “I’ll take it to her.”

  “Thanks, man.” He stepped back behind the bar.

  Her laptop sat open, but she had her feet up on the seat. She stared at the screen, my coffee warmed her hands. Lucky cup.

  She squinted up into the cloudless blue sky and back at the cup in her hand.

  I should have stopped her but got lost in her lips curling over the top of the cup. For some strange reason, my dick grew uncomfortable in my pants. It lasted for a few seconds.

  Her face scrunched up. She squeezed her eyes shut and coughed before glaring at the coffee like it personally insulted her.

  “Coconut milk latte with three shots of espresso.” I set her cup on the table. “You get used to it.”

  “If you say so.” She set the cup as far away from her as she could reach in her current position.

  I smiled.

  She smiled and grabbed her cup.

  She sipped and blissed out. I watched he until she came back to reality. I grabbed the offensive cup, a little disappointed it wasn’t what had made her so happy.

  “It may not be as good as your caramel vanilla frou-frou whatever you’re drinking, but it’s good for me. It gets me going in the morning.” I took a sip.

  Definitely not as tasty.

  “Oh really.” She took another sip of her coffee and put her feet on the ground. She set the cup on the table and pulled off the lid. The bitter scent of black coffee wafted up in my face.

  “No frou-frou.” She put the cap back on and tapped it. “Still good for me.”

  “Please forgive me.” I placed my hand over my chest. “That was insensitive of me.”

  “Yes, it was.” She nodded. “I like my coffee—”

  “Like you like your men,” I finished her sentence.

  “Yeah, something like that. Dark, strong, hot, and slightly bitter.”

  I chuckled. She laughed with me.

  “Frou-frou!” She raised her eyes.

  “What?”

  “Your use of words doesn’t exactly scream masculinity.” Her cute nose crinkled.

  “Well, who’s being insensitive now?” I winked, and she swooned. “Besides. I have other ways to exhibit my masculinity.”

  Her eyes grew wide.

  “I lift weights.” I smirked and sipped my coffee.

  She smiled and did the same.

  The traffic noise distracted me as a fire truck with sirens blared across at the next intersection. Cars maneuvered to get out of the way.

  The traffic picked up as the fire truck disappeared. The familiar longing of my past clouded my brain. I had always wanted to be a fireman. It was a dream fulfilled until two years ago. Now, I no longer fought fires—I taught others how to. It didn’t give me the same satisfaction or the same thrill. It allowed me to do my part with no one getting hurt on my watch.

  “Hello.”

  I snapped out of my head and turned to her. Her skin shone as the morning sun hit her in the face. She looked like an angel. She covered her eyes and looked up at me.

  “I lost you there for a second. Where did you go?”

  “I’m sorry.” I shook my head.

  “Would you like to sit down and make more assumptions about me?” She giggled, and it vibrated through my chest. “Maybe the movies I like.”

  “Superhero movies,” I answered.

  She blinked.

  I pointed to the Captain America shield decal on the back of her computer.

  She shut her laptop as if she forgot it was there.

  “That was an easy one.” She winked, and my heart flipped. What the fuck was wrong with me? I needed to get away from this girl. She would have me confessing my deepest darkest desires in one conversation. They all starred her naked and me doing nasty stuff to her. I sipped my coffee, and the image floated out of my brain.

  She sat back into her chair. I narrowed my eyes.

  “Some other time.” My eyes darted around the street behind her. The disappointment in her eyes would stick with me for a while. “I’ve got to go.”

  I headed towards my apartment without saying goodbye. What must she think of me? It was for the best. Women were not in my plan. Especially ones like Shani. She was too cute, too innocent looking. Although, her sad eyes haunted me. Funny how the sadness left while we were talking.

  Halfway down the block, I turned.

  She had twisted in her chair and watched me walk away. When I caught her, she didn’t look away.

  I waved.

  She waved back.

  I turned back around and continued towards my place.

  The sadness had returned, but a flicker of hope lingered at the surface. I didn’t bother to hide the smile on my face. It hadn’t been there in a long time.

  2

  Shani

  I grinned like a little girl who’d discovered her Christmas presents in November. Where did that come from?

  When did I become one of those flirty, witty, sarcastic girls who batted her eyelashes at strange men? Hot strange man.

  I closed my eyes, and his handsome face appeared behind my lids. His dark brown hair picked up the sun. He had dark, deep-set eyes, and they knew things. A prominent nose. I had a thing for noses and hands. His hands were big, fingers long and thick. His index finger on his left hand had a curve to it. He had broken it before. His lips framed by the short beard were full and kissable.

  My eyes popped open.

  Get a grip, Shani. You don’t even know his name.

  “Shani,” Jim, the barista poked his head out the door, “you and O get your drinks straightened out?” His eyes raised and disappeared under his shaggy hair.

  “Yeah, all good.” I nodded.

  He gave me thumbs-up and disappeared back inside the coffee shop.

  I looked behind me, but O was long gone.

  I arrived in Brooklyn, New York six months ago. The goal was to reinvent myself, and I planned to take full advantage of my new opportunity. My life had never been my own. I had underestimated the learning curve. It was harder than I imagined. You could get lost in the city and find yourself, too.

  I had notice O a few weeks ago. His dark brooding eyes made me think he was doing the same things, loosing and finding himself.

  O.

  Who’s named O?

  Was it short for something?

  I had noticed him every morning but never had the nerve to speak to him. If his size didn’t intimidate, the permanent frown did the trick. Except for today. Today, when I smiled, he smiled back.

  And, then quickly left.

  I shook my head and turned my focus back to my laptop. My fingers ran over the Captain America shield. It was ridiculous, but it was Cap who gave me the strength to leave. My ex-husband was an evil man, but I didn’t need the Avengers to defeat him. I needed to find the courage to leave on my own. I found it and left.

  The coffee had chilled. How long had I been daydreaming? I set it on the table and positioned my hand over my mouse.

  I signed up for an online graphic class and had assignments due. The computer screen lit up. I had no motivation to work.

  It had been happening a lot in the last couple of weeks. I continued to wait for my safety bubble to
burst. My mind wandered. When I moved to Brooklyn, I did three things: changed my name, found an apartment, and found a therapist. My therapist told me it was normal to be distracted. The healing process took on many forms. I had been healing for five months, and I was ready to move on. How long was I going to let my ex-husband interfere with my life?

  I groaned and stared at the arrow on the screen. I moved the mouse and clicked on the image I worked on yesterday. It was shit.

  I closed my computer and put it in my case.

  I packed up my stuff and threw the rest of my coffee away. I crossed the street and let myself in. The building screamed Brooklyn, from the hardwood floors to the three-story—four if you include the basement—structure with all original wood and crown molding. The owner restored the whole place last year. They lived in the apartment on the first floor and basement. A family of four lived in the two-bedroom apartment on the second floor. I lived in the studio up top. Living in a brownstone as opposed to a high-rise allowed me to be among people, but not too many people.

  My mother couldn’t fathom why I wanted to move to Brooklyn. She brought me here when I was little. We had family in the area, but they were long gone now. It didn’t make as big of an impression on her. She at least made me promise to call her every day. She said it wasn’t healthy for a person to live some place where you could go days without talking to someone.

  That was the exact reason why I moved here.