Forbidden: A Romance Anthology

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Forbidden: A Romance Anthology Page 35

by Yolanda Olson


  “My song, my choice.” I dance along to the music as I mimic the lyrics. It’s one of mine and Lacie’s favorite.

  “You wasted a song; I can’t believe that.” He picks up both of our rolls and hands me mine. “Now eat. Remember, as much as you can. The more the better.”

  “Got it.”

  “Right. Okay. One, tw—”

  “Wait, why are you counting us in? It’s not a competition.”

  “It’s part of the experience. Now hush and eat.”

  I do as he tells me, getting as much in my mouth as I possibly can. It tastes divine, and I can’t wait to finish the rest.

  “That’s potential right there,” he laughs, still holding his food. Leisurely, he takes a normal bite.

  I’m still chewing and swallowing through my first bite when he takes his second. Once I’m done, I wash it down with a mouthful of beer.

  “You’re an asshole.”

  “Maybe, but that was impressive.” He offers me a fry from the shared basket.

  “Whatever.” I stick my tongue out at him before I take it from him.

  My song ends, and he’s up and at the jukebox quickly. “Because the Night” comes on, and I really can’t believe that it’s his pick.

  “What?” Sitting down beside me, he shovels in the rest of his roll.

  “Nothing.” It takes me all of two normal bites to finish mine.

  Jo-Anne brings us another couple of beers, and we sit and talk. We continue taking in the sporadic thunder and lightning. I haven’t had this much fun in forever. And honestly, I never in a million years thought that this would be us.

  Chapter Fifteen

  AVA

  Damon walks me to my room. We’re both silent watching the door swing open. Pulling me into his arms, he puckers his mouth on the tip of my nose in a chaste kiss. But his hands skim the hem of my shirt, his thumb slipping beneath it, stroking across my stomach. I love the feel of his skin on mine, how warm his touch always is.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he groans over my lips as I press myself to him, my arms locking around his neck.

  In spite of all the calm, my heart is thundering in my chest. My blood is burning through my veins. I don’t want tonight to end. Ever.

  “Don’t go.” I skim a kiss over his plump lower lip. “Stay with me.”

  Grasping his hand, I tug him with me through the door, but before we get farther into the room, he pulls me back to him, not dissimilar to the way he did last night.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Warm brown eyes trace my face as his large hands comb through my knotted lengths. “Nothing,” Damon replies with a low chuckle.

  Nothing feels wrong, but he’s not exactly ripping my clothes off and fucking me senseless. He’s so good at that.

  Like he can read my mind, he draws me flush to his body, every chiseled line molding to my soft curves. Spinning us around, he walks me into the wall beside the open doorway. The bulge in his pants hardens at the base of my belly.

  Hands roving up my sides, he skims my silhouette up to my shoulders. “I’m going to kiss you good night,” he breathes over my jaw. His stubble grazes my skin in that way that has my stomach twisting with need. “And then I’m going to leave.”

  What? Why?

  Slowly he drops kisses over one side of my face before he repeats on the other.

  “I don’t fuck on a first date.”

  I almost choke on the laugh that bubbles up my throat, but before it can escape, he kisses me. Hard. Deep. Slow. It’s the kind of kiss that has every inch of me ready for more. My toes are curling in my sneakers. My fingers coil in his hair. My skin erupts with a million goose bumps that make every touch, graze, and skim of our bodies feel like the best foreplay.

  I can barely breathe when he pulls away with his chest heaving like mine and his hands clenched like he’s using up all his control.

  “Good night, my beautiful Ava,” he rumbles, pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth before he leaves.

  My knees cave, my body slipping down the wall until I’m sitting on the ground, tracing all his kisses with my fingertips.

  DAMON

  The porch light is on, like Mom always used to leave it when I used to stay out late. It’s not even that late, but with the storm it got dark earlier than usual, and Mom is a stickler for the safety of her only child. Her favorite line to drive home—"You’re my only child, Damon. There’s no replacement for you.”

  I was so happy when Fran came along and became the daughter she never had. It was a relief.

  “There you are,” Mom sighs halfway down the stairs. “You didn’t call me back. I was worried. With the storm and that car…why can’t you drive something that’s sturdier.”

  “Mom.” I meet her at the bottom step. “I’m home. I’m fine. Pretty great actually. Stop worrying.”

  “Darling, you’re my only child.” She links her arm through mine as I usher her into the kitchen.

  “I know.”

  The place looks like a bomb hit it. There’s enough food to feed a small army. I don’t think she’s ever cooked this much for Thanksgiving or Christmas.

  “Jesus, did you want to cook any more food?”

  “Well, I thought I was going to have a girl to impress and…”

  “It’s probably a good thing Ava didn’t stay. She would’ve had a meltdown.” Taking a plate down, I walk around the kitchen island, eyeing up all the trays covered in foil and plastic wrap. “Come on, I think I might need your help making a plate.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “He really does,” Fran sings from the kitchen doorway, holding up a plate of her own. She’s changed from her loose dress into leggings and Grayson’s Yale sweater. “It’s what he gets for being an asshat.”

  “Don’t you have a home of your own?”

  “Not with this much food. And besides, since I’m on a sex ban, I need to live vicariously through you.” She sits herself at the kitchen table with a grimace on her face. I’m not really sure what to reply to that. After a moment of silence, she perks up again. “I can’t stop eating the cornbread and the ham. It’s so good.”

  Mom serves me some of her baked ham and cornbread.

  “Where’s Grayson?”

  “In a food coma.”

  Mom hands me my loaded plate. I’m really not hungry, but I feel bad that she went to so much trouble and I fucked it up.

  “And Dad?”

  “He’s gone to bed. He needs rest, and after the stroke he’s slower.” Mom’s smile is weak which makes her look sadder. “But he’s okay.”

  She pours me a water and follows me to the table where we sit with Fran. They’re both looking at me quietly, in the way they do when they’re either fishing for information or have to give me bad news.

  “What?” I take a sip of my water, washing down the mouthful of cornbread.

  “What happened? Is Ava mad at you?” Fran moves her food around her plate. “Was it something I said? I can’t even remember what we were saying when she freaked out. My head is all over the place, and I feel terrible.”

  “I’d love to blame you and your big mouth, but it was me.”

  “And?” Mom leans closer, eyes wide. “What happened?”

  “We went to Jo’s for dinner and we talked.”

  “That’s nice.” Mom sighs at the same time as Fran asks, “And?”

  “And mind your own fucking business.”

  “I am minding my fucking business!” she snaps, and Mom jumps right in to pacify the situation. “No fighting. Civilized conversation at the table.”

  Fran puts her fork down, pushing her plate away. Her face is all kinds of twisted and sorry-looking, and I know there’s something wrong before she even says anything.

  “I need to make sure you have someone to watch your back when I’m gone.” Her eyes are all wide and waterlogged.

  “What are you talking about?” My heart is racing, and I do
n’t mean to snap, but Fran doesn’t cry unless it’s something serious. Like her parents dying. That’s the only time she’s ever really cried.

  “Can we all calm down?” Mom stands to rummage in the kitchen. When she returns, she has a bottle of scotch in her hand and three glasses. She pours one and hands it to Fran. “Sniff.” Then another for me and one for herself. “There’s no use stressing,” she tells Fran. “Your ob-gyn has a plan. Everything is going to be okay.”

  “Can someone tell me what’s going on? Are you okay? Is the baby okay?”

  Fran takes a long inhale over the rim of her glass. I still think it’s fucking weird, but whatever makes her happy and keeps her ticking.

  “I’m okay, it’s just that my placenta is in the wrong place, and I’m going to have to leave early because my doctor’s put me on bed rest.”

  “And?”

  “And I’m not ready to leave!” she grits out, her frustration evident even through her tears. “I can’t just leave you.”

  Taking her hand, I link her fingers with mine. “Yeah, you can. I’m a grown-ass man; I don’t need you to put yourself or your baby in danger for me.”

  “But I haven’t finished organizing everything, and there’s no one to have your back.”

  “Dex will be there.”

  “Dex cares about the business. He’s all about the business and the money…” She sniffs, squeezing my hand tighter.

  “It’s why I made him VP.” My laugh doesn’t have the soothing effect I’d hoped for. If anything, it gets her even more worked up.

  “But you need someone to be about you and what you want. You need someone to have your back and your vision…and Ava cares. I know she does, and if she loves you, then she’ll make sure you are happy and not just doing shit for the sake of success or the money. She’ll have your back, and you care enough about her that you’ll listen to her. I know you care. I do.”

  “This is what you’ve been stewing over all day?” Mom asks her crossly.

  “You don’t understand, Elizab—”

  “Fran!”

  “Damon, Ava’s going to find out you construed everything, and she’s going to hate you. And there’ll be no going back because she won’t trust you ever again, and you can’t love someone you don’t trust. So, you have to fix everything. You have to give her Monroe, and you have to walk away from it completely. It’s not worth it. You know that, don’t you?”

  I pull my vibrating phone from my pocket, and as I’m about to check it, Fran places her hand over it, peering up at me.

  “If you let her go, she’ll come back to you.”

  She lifts her hand, and my screen instantly lights up.

  Ava: I wish you were here.

  Damon: Me too.

  Ava: Maybe next time…

  Damon: Are you asking me out?

  Ava: Goodnight, Damon. x

  Fuck. I know Fran’s right, I do, but I can’t let Ava go. I just can’t.

  “Damon.” Fran scoots her chair closer, resting her head on my shoulder. “You know it’s the right thing to do.”

  “You’re right, Monroe should be hers, but it won’t be unless I stick to the plan.”

  “What on earth is going on?” Mom levels us both with a glare. Of course, it’s all Fran needs to tell her everything, and as much as I love Fran, I need to walk away before I end up losing my shit.

  “Where are you going?” Mom calls as I leave them, and I don’t bother replying. Instead, I go find Grayson. He and I have a lot to discuss.

  Chapter Sixteen

  DAMON

  Ava’s got all the effortless charm down to perfection. I picked her up in another pair of dark blue jeans that make her long, slender legs look lithe with the nude heels she’s wearing. The oversized blue shirt is tucked into her pants, making her waist look small. Her hair is up in a casual knot with wisps framing her face. She’s so laid-back as we talk to Warner that you would believe she’s the boss.

  “Those are some of the things we’ll do, but once I’ve read your book and have a feel for it, we can put together a plan that’s personable to you. The important thing is that you’re comfortable with the direction we’re going. At the end of the day it’s your story and your life, and whatever approach we take it has to reflect that.” She takes a sip of her wine spritzer and actually listens to him and all the things he wants to achieve.

  And the whole time I’m sitting here thinking about last night and the conversations I had with Mom, Fran, and Grayson.

  For the first time, I’m uncertain of what I’m doing because I don’t want to lose Ava, but it feels like it’s an eventuality. Regardless of what I do, it will happen because she’s not like me or the industry we’re in. She’s soft. So fucking soft and caring, and she would rather let someone take from her than cut their throat.

  “Thanks for meeting up today, I’m sure you have other clients…” Warner stands, drinking the rest of his pressed juice. Turning to me, he offers me his hand, and when I shake it, he says, “You’re right, she’s the best.”

  “Ava certainly is.”

  “I’ll talk to you guys soon. I have a couple of meetings in the next few days, but playoffs are here and…”

  “You should focus on your game.” Ava shakes his hand, and with the loose collar of her shirt shifting with the motion, I smile at the glimpse of her tattoo fading into her hairline. “We’re here whenever you’re ready.”

  It feels like Warner doesn’t want to leave her presence because he keeps finding something to say or ask. To the point that I want to tell him to get on his way and leave us to the evening I have planned.

  “Why are you scowling?” she laughs as he walks away.

  “I thought he’d never fucking leave.”

  “Well, you know, he wanted to stay with the best.” Falling onto my lap when I sit, she strokes my jaw with her nails. “I thought you said Warner asked for me.”

  “He did.”

  “Once you nudged him in my direction.”

  “He wanted the best.”

  “Damon.” She sits straighter, looking me in the eyes. “I don’t want special favors. Whatever we’re doing. Whatever we are…”

  “Have I ever given you preferential treatment?”

  “No.”

  “You don’t need it. And you’re not that kind of woman, and I’m sure as fuck not that kind of guy. You get what you work for.”

  “Okay.” She smiles wide, her forehead touching to mine.

  “You hungry?”

  “Are you a feeder or something?”

  That would be Mom, but… “I thought you wanted a second date badly enough to ask me out?”

  “Whatever.” She glares at me, getting to her feet.

  “I accept, and I’ve made a reservation.”

  “How forward of you. What if I wanted to take you to my death trap?” She pulls her oversized jacket on and grabs her purse.

  “Maybe next time,” I tease as I walk us to my car.

  I thought I had Ava all figured out. More so than I should, given I wasn’t meant to care. But she’s got these little endearing traits—like the way she fusses with tendrils behind her ear, curling them as she gets lost in her thoughts. Her expression matches whatever’s going through her mind. If it’s pleasant, she smiles, like she’s doing now. Like she did the entire drive on the way here.

  The tavern is busy, but it has a hotel right across the street that means we can both enjoy the meal and our drinks without having to drive anywhere afterward.

  “I’ve never really been to the Hamptons.” She looks around the modestly decorated interior. It’s got a cozy farmhouse feel with nautical décor. “I always thought it’d be uppity, but so far it’s so calm and relaxed. I like it.”

  “It a little different in the summer when all the rich folk come in, but this is it.”

  The waitress brings our drinks with the dinner menu, and we’re about to order when Fran starts blowing my phone up. I’m instantly on edge given our c
onversation yesterday, and the worst-case scenarios are going through my head even though I have no idea what they are. I just see blood and tears because it’s what I remember from when Mom had her last miscarriage. I was fourteen and it was terrifying. I thought she was going to die.

  “Everything okay?” Ava asks, eyes furrowing at my phone.

  Fran: PICK UP.

  Fran: CALL ME.

  I do. It doesn’t ring once before she answers, “Oh my God, Damon. Oh my God…he fell. Just fell. He was fine and then he fell, and the ambulance is here. The paramedics… Oh my God.”

  “Dad?” I’m standing and dropping some cash on the table. I can hear the clack of Ava’s heels behind me. “Is he okay? Is Mom?”

  “I don’t know.” She’s in tears, and I can’t be an asshole and tell her to get her shit together because of everything that went down with her parents. “I’m on my way to the house. Let me know what happens and where they take him, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “It’s going to be okay, all right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Grayson’s there, right?”

  “Right.” She’s on autopilot. It’s her thing when something goes seriously wrong.

  “I’ll be there in no time.”

  Hanging up, I turn to Ava. She looks as worried as I feel—something Fran would be. It’s a stupid moment to wonder, but… Would she really have my back? Would she love me?

  “Can I do anything?” She doesn’t even know what’s happened and she wants to help.

  Because she’s a good person.

  “I’ve booked a room in the hotel. If you give them my name…”

  She takes my hand as I search for my keys. “I can come with you.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I’d like to. I mean, I can’t drive your car or anything because it scares the shit out of me, but I can hold your hand or…I don’t know.” She’s oozing compassion and tenderness, and I can’t help but take it.

 

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