Falling for the Forbidden: 10 Full-Length Novels

by Jessica Hawkins

  “Gabriel.”

  All I want is to throw her over the desk and fuck her, but in this, I have to show her her place.

  “It’s sir when I’m not going down on you.”

  Her cheeks turn pink, but she stands her ground, her gorgeous courage making me hot around my collar and hard in my pants.

  “Sir, I promised Carly I’d speak to you. You can do to me whatever you want, listen or not listen, but I won’t break my promise.”

  The chair scrapes over the floor as I push it back and get to my feet. “I won’t tell you again, keep your nose out of my business.”

  The hem of her dress trembles––her knees must be shaking––but she doesn’t back down.

  “You’re making a mistake.”

  I round the desk and stop in front of her. “Am I, now?”

  “You should let Carly decide who she wants to go out with.”

  “You would know.”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re not a parent. Until you are, keep your opinion to yourself.”

  She cranes her neck to look me in the eyes. “No, I’m not a parent, but I’ve been there. I know what it feels like.”

  The angry part of me stills as I picture her as a young woman asking her father’s permission to go out on a date. From the report I just read, I know she was only thirteen when he died, way too young to date, but I’m curious.

  “My father already decided who I was going to marry when I turned ten. It didn’t matter what I wanted or how I felt. My mother was already gathering a trousseau for the day I’d turn eighteen. My father passed away early, saving me from that fate, but if he’d still been alive, I would’ve been far, far away from here.”

  There’s nowhere far enough she could’ve run. Marvin would’ve found her. He was a small fish in a big pond, but he was part of the mob. Every single man in the business would’ve been looking for her. My curiosity piqued further, I ask, “Who were you supposed to marry?”

  “Lambert Roos.”

  It makes sense. It would’ve strengthened Marvin’s connections, but hearing her say it doesn’t sit right with me. Lambert is an old fart. I feel like killing him now just because he once upon a time considered marrying her. Which raises the questions I’ve been mulling over for the last hour. Why didn’t anyone in the family take the Haynes orphans in? Now I want to know, why didn’t the Roos family take Valentina and Charles when their mother died? Lambert’s family should’ve claimed them and raised Valentina until she turned a marriageable age. Too many things about Valentina don’t add up.

  She watches me with her big eyes. “Don’t push her away. Give her reason to confide in you, not to do things behind your back. Carly is her own person. She deserves to make her own choices, even if they’re mistakes.”

  Everything she says is true, but the protective side of me is too fierce.

  “It’s just a date,” she continues. “You can’t lock her in a glass cage forever. She has to find her way in life.”

  “I’m not sure I can.”

  “Of course you can. At least meet the kid before you cast judgment. Invite him over. That way you can decide if she’s safe with him.”

  I consider her words. I’m not the world’s greatest father, but I want what’s best for Carly.

  “You can always kill him if he misbehaves,” she says with a hint of a smile.

  It’s her way of telling me she accepted what happened this morning, not that I need her acceptance. I’m not worried about her ratting on me, either, because I know how desperately she wants to keep her brother alive. Anyway, it won’t do her any good. Magda practically owns the police force.

  I sigh and wipe a hand over my face. “I have to discuss it with her mother.”

  Hope lights up the somber depths of her eyes. “Can I tell her you’ll think about it?”

  “Fine.” I shove my hands into my pockets. “I’ll think about it, and I’ll tell her myself.”

  “Thank you,” she says, as if I just granted her freedom to date, which brings another nagging issue to my mind––Valentina’s virginity.

  I won’t be able to hold off much longer. At some point, my control is going to snap. It tears me apart to even think about it, but soon I’ll have to face the decision I’ve been putting off for far too long.

  * * *

  When Valentina is cleaning upstairs, I send Marie out on a shopping errand with Quincy, and go through Valentina’s room. Except for a few pieces of clothing, a pair of flip-flops, and a change of plain, white underwear, there are raspberry-scented shampoo, body lotion, deodorant, and tampons in her closet. There are no cosmetics, jewelry, or shoes, not even a hairclip.

  On the bottom shelf, I find a stack of text and notebooks. From the titles, I deduce they’re on veterinary science. Could it be that Valentina is a university student? It should’ve occurred to me earlier. She’s clever, driven, and ambitious. It makes sense that she’d want to further her education. As I’m staring at her neat handwriting, I’m struck by another foreign emotion.

  Pride.

  The pride I feel for Carly is her birthright, but this is different. This pride is earned. A piece of the ever-present coldness in me makes way for a pleasant rush of heat. Valentina wants to be a vet. She’ll make a brilliant, gorgeous animal doctor. This is why she needs the money. I finished an MBA after high school, and I know how much hard work it is. She won’t keep up this job and her studies. Not for long. The part of me that wants her to be happy wants her to have this, but I’ll have to find a way around Magda.

  I’m enjoying the sensation of warmth in my chest too much to let it go, but when my gaze sweeps over her belongings, a new feeling dampens my pride. It takes me a while to place it.

  Fuck me. I feel compassion. Big, empathic compassion. I always knew Valentina was going to play havoc with my body, but what the hell is she doing to my heart?

  * * *

  Valentina

  “Which one?” Carly holds up a pink strapless dress and a blue one with a tight-fitting bodice.

  I stop ironing to consider the options. “The pink one.” Gabriel will definitely object if she shows off too much of her figure.

  She puts the pink one on the ironing pile and lifts her hair on top of her head. “Up or down?”

  “You have a pretty neck. I’d say up.”

  She all but skips from the scullery, leaving me with a smile. I’m glad Gabriel finally agreed to let her go out after meeting Sebastian and his parents. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to see Carly was smitten with the boy. He has all the qualities to make a schoolgirl’s knees weak, including playing for the school rugby team.

  I finish pressing the tablecloth, hiding a yawn behind my hand. I’m exhausted. It’s a battle to keep my eyes open past eleven. Every night, Gabriel comes to me. My body has learned not only to respond to him, but also to need the pleasure he gives me like I need food and water. When my body hits the mattress, it starts craving him. I’m wet and aching before he even walks through my door. By the time he fondles and kisses me, I’m begging for release. Sometimes, he lets me return the favor. It’s always the same routine. When it’s me making him come, he leaves everything up to me. I find comfort and power in this, and I also find I need more. I’m ashamed to admit I want more from Gabriel than oral sex. I’m fantasizing about having him inside my body, feeling him rock a rhythm into me with his cock. I shouldn’t want this, not from him of all people. I crave what he does to my body, but I hate him for having this effect on me. I never wanted a man before or had erotic dreams, but now I wake up soaked and needy every morning, my senses super aware of him as he moves around the house. Last night, I was on the verge of asking him to fuck me, but my pride won’t let me. Maybe controlling me with powerful orgasms is enough for him, but it’s not enough for me. Not only did he make me a whore, he made me a greedy one.

  “Meeting in the kitchen,” Marie says, breaking my train of thought.

  I let my hair fall around my face to hide my fl
ustered cheeks. “Coming.”

  Magda is waiting for us with a clipboard in her hand. As usual, she jumps straight into business. “It’s my son’s birthday in four months, and we’re hosting a party at the house. I’m hiring caterers and servers, but everyone’s help is needed. Make sure you’re available on Saturday and Sunday the tenth and eleventh of March. It’ll finish late, so, Marie, you’ll have to sleep over. You can share Valentina’s room. Any questions?” Both Marie and I shake our heads.

  “Good. I’ll give you more details closer to the time.”

  When she’s gone, trying to sound casual, I ask, “How old is he?”

  “Thirty-six.”

  “He had Carly young.”

  “He married Mrs. Louw when they were both only nineteen. They had Carly the following year.”

  “Was it an arranged marriage?”

  Marie pulls her back straight. “You shouldn’t ask questions about affairs that don’t concern you.”

  She’s right, but I have an insatiable curiosity about my keeper. I’m devastated to admit I want to know everything there is to know about him.

  “The table needs to be cleared,” she says harshly.

  I tidy the dining room and smuggle the untouched food to my room. On my break, I carry the Shepard’s Pie outside and make myself comfortable on the low wall separating the garden from the pool.

  * * *

  Gabriel

  Before Valentina’s arrival, I never spent time in the kitchen. I never had reason to. Now, I gravitate to that part of the house with increasing frequency. An urge to see Valentina drives me there, but she’s nowhere to be seen. Marie can’t hide her shock at my presence, more so when I switch on the kettle and take a mug from the cupboard.

  “Anything I can do, Mr. Louw?”

  “I’ve got this.”

  She eyes me warily as I drop a teabag into the mug.

  “I can prepare you a tray,” she says, “or get Valentina to bring it to your study.”

  “Where is Valentina?”

  “Lunch break.” The way she wrinkles her nose tells me our maid isn’t one of her favorites. Any resentment she has should be directed at me. The little maid came voluntarily, but only because I made sure there was no other choice.

  “Shall I call her?” Marie asks, watching me with hawk eyes.

  “No.” Valentina needs her rest. Her back is breaking under the burdens Magda piles on her.

  “As you wish.” Her dismay is laughable. If she weren’t a loyal employee, I would’ve kicked her ass out on the spot.

  As if sensing my discord, she moves away quickly, busying herself with chopping vegetables. I don’t really want the damn tea, but if I abandon the task, Marie will know my ulterior motive for gatecrashing in the kitchen.

  I walk to the window while I wait for the water the boil and jolt to a standstill. Valentina sits on the wall with a plate in her hands.

  I go colder than the morgue.

  Bruno is out. Quincy told me ten minutes earlier he’s letting him run free for exercise.

  “Valentina!” My voice carries through the window, because she lifts her head with a frown.

  Jumping to action, I sprint as fast as my limp allows to the backdoor, my body in fight mode. I clear the house in record speed, but my voice didn’t only attract Valentina’s attention. The Boerboel rounds the corner, his ears drawn back in alert. My heart stops. My lungs collapse, making it impossible to draw in a breath.

  “Quincy!” Where the fuck is he? “Valentina!”

  I don’t have time to elaborate on my warning. The dog spots her and charges.

  Chapter Eight

  Gabriel

  The chances are in Bruno’s favor of making it to Valentina before I do, and I don’t have my gun on me. I throw my weight behind my effort, but my disability makes me too slow.

  One more second and Bruno is next to the wall. Horrible visions play off in my mind. I reach for Valentina with an outstretched arm, trying to throw myself between her and the dog, but Bruno is at her feet, his enormous jaw going straight for her delicate ankle. I’m about to tackle and strangle the animal when the fact that he’s licking her leg instead of tearing her apart registers in my frantic mind. I barely stop myself from crashing head-on into both of them. My hands are shaking, and my skin is clammy. The powerful rush of adrenalin drops as quickly as it has flared, making me feel physically ill. I swallow several times to suppress the urge to puke. While I’m battling to settle my guts, Bruno slobbers all over her.

  Valentina gives me a confused look, uncertainty creeping into her eyes. She puts a plate with a half-eaten serving of Shepard’s Pie on the wall and pushes it away from her, as if the food is the cause of my reaction. Bruno puts his forepaws on the wall and stretches. When she scratches behind his ear, he closes his eyes, and tilts his head to her touch.

  “Is everything all right?” she asks in a small voice.

  I must look like I feel––a fucking madman.

  Quincy comes running from the back, jogging up when he spots me. He stops with his hands on his hips, looking between Valentina and me. “What’s going on?”

  I can’t look at him right now. The chances are too big that I’ll rip his head from his body.

  Instead, I lock gazes with Valentina.

  “What the fuck are you doing outside when the dog is loose?”

  She stops petting Bruno and drops her hand. “He doesn’t mind me.”

  “He’s a guard dog, not a lapdog.”

  The vixen dares to challenge me. “He seems friendly enough to me.”

  “She’s right,” Quincy adds quickly. “Bruno likes her. He won’t attack.”

  “You,” I turn to him with ice in my tone, “are supposed to check that nobody is out before you let him loose.”

  “It’s not Quincy’s fault,” she says. “I didn’t tell him I was coming outside.”

  She’s covering for Quincy? With the aftermath of the adrenalin still burning in my veins and my leg aching like a bitch from the overexertion, this is as much as I can take.

  I grab her arm and pull her from the wall, catching her around the waist before she falls.

  “Inside.”

  Her face pales at my tone, even if the command was no louder than a whisper.

  Quincy lifts his palms. “Gabriel, take it easy.”

  “Are you giving me an order?”

  He backs down. “Of course not.”

  “Next time, follow instructions,” I snarl.

  I don’t care that Marie stops to look at us as I drag Valentina behind me through the kitchen. I don’t stop until I get to the gym. Shoving her inside, I lock the door and turn to face her. She wraps her arms around herself, regarding me calmly, but there’s wariness in her eyes.

  For a moment, I just look at her. The thought of anything happening to her leaves an acidic, bitter, fucking horrible taste in my mouth. The intensity of the notion shocks me to my core. I hate her for it. I hate her for the crippling anguish I suffered on her behalf. It’s a goddamn sick feeling, and it makes me fucking weak. I like my sex wild, and I love a woman’s tears, which is why I sleep with women who crave my money enough to take what comes with having sex with me. But Valentina? I never wanted to hurt her up to this moment. When I belted her, it was to prevent Magda from killing her. Yes, it turned me on, but I regretted it. Now, I want to paddle her ass until she screams. I want to punish her for what I feel.

  I undo the buttons of my shirt cuffs and fold them back twice. Her eyes follow the movement, but she says nothing. It’s only when I walk to the weight bench and sit down that she finds her voice.

  “Gabriel, please.”

  “Come here.”

  She doesn’t move.

  “If I have to come get you, you’re going to suffer double as much as what I’ve got planned for you.”

  Slowly, she moves to me, her eyes flittering between my face and lap.

  I point at my knees. “Bend over.”

  “Gabriel
…” Her lip starts to tremble.

  “You endangered your life, and your life is mine, which means you put my property at risk.”

  “Nothing happened.”

  “Don’t make me tell you again.”

  She shuffles closer until her knees brush my thighs.

  “Bend over my lap and press your palms and feet flat on the floor. Keep your legs spread.”

  She lowers herself across my lap so that her head hangs down one side of my thighs and her legs down the other. The bench is low enough for her hands and feet to touch the ground.

  I pull her dress up to her waist and move her panties down to her thighs. “If you move, your punishment will be tripled.”

  Her smooth, golden ass and plump, pink pussy are exposed to me. I take my time to admire her perfect body, her unmarred beauty and unsoiled innocence. My cock stirs and grows impossibly hard. I lift my hand and take aim.

  Smack.

  My palm lands on the tight curve of her left ass cheek. She jerks in my lap, driving her belly into my hard cock.

  Smack.

  The second marks her other cheek. She sucks in a breath, but she doesn’t give in to me. Her silence is her defiance. Not giving her time to draw another breath, I land a succession of firm blows over her ass until I find my rhythm. I keep it light enough not to bruise, but hard enough to turn her skin pink. She squirms and whimpers, but she doesn’t break her stance. Her ass clenches with each slap. I keep going until not a patch of her skin is left unmarked. When I start to repeat the pattern on her inflamed skin, she finally breaks. A loud cry escapes her throat.

  I keep at it mercilessly, not giving her reprieve until her body goes slack.

  As she relaxes under my touch, her cries become different. The whimpers turn to moans. She mumbles my name and grinds her body down on my cock. I reward her by stopping the blows and reaching between her legs to cup her sex. She’s soaked. My cock rises against the constraint of my zipper in satisfaction. I didn’t plan on taking it here, but I can’t help myself. The fight has gone completely out of me. All that’s left is the gnawing lust. I pet her folds for a while, reveling in how they swell to my touch, before I rub my middle finger in circular movements over her clit. I like the vantage point I have on the view. When I bend my head, her pussy is so close I can smell her arousal. It drives me insane. Her beautiful female parts clench, and her lower body shakes. Her thighs and arms quiver as she screams out her orgasm. I let her have it and more. I carry on rubbing and pinching her clit until she begs me to stop, but I don’t let up until I’m certain she can’t take any more. Only then do I adjust her clothes, help her up, and pull her into my arms with her head cradled against my chest. While she’s sobbing it out, I caress her cheek, wiping the tears away as they fall. Every molecule in my body is aware of her. I’m intoxicated with the woman I hold in my arms, the woman I’ll eventually have to kill. It’s then that I acknowledge the truth. I’m not going to kill her. I was never going to. She’s meant to be mine.