Forbidden Attraction: A Contemporary Romance Box Set

by K. C. Crowne

  “Fine,” Anna said. “But the sooner you get going on this, the more material you’ll have.”

  “Hey now, I don’t tell you how to do your job, do I?”

  “That’s because no one wants to do my job,” she joked.

  “Good point,” I teased her right back.

  “But seriously, promise me you’ll call him first thing in the morning?” she pressed. “Or better yet, stop by his room.”

  “I’m not going to stop by his room,” I muttered. “What kind of message would that send? What kind of ideas would that give him?”

  “Uh, the right ones?” Anna said. “You do know that it’s okay to have casual sex, right?”

  “I’m hanging up now,” I said.

  “You always were a bit of a prude,” she said, chuckling.

  “Goodnight,” I said, trying my hardest not to let my own giggling be heard over the phone. The last thing I needed was to encourage her. “And for the record, I’m not a prude.”

  “Pfft. Prove it then,” she said.

  “Fine, maybe I will,” I said. “But for now, I’m going to bed. Alone. So goodnight for real this time.”

  Leave it to Anna to always push me outside of my comfort zone. Not that it was a bad thing. Most of the time I ended up thanking her for it. She got me to do things I’d never considered before. Anna encouraged me to live, to really enjoy life and to never hold myself back from doing anything that made me happy.

  I found it mildly ironic, given that I’d done what made me happy and was the one with the more exciting job while she played it safe. But hey, she at least knew how to have fun outside of work. That was something I still needed to learn how to do.

  I laid in bed and stared at the ceiling, my mind spinning in a thousand different directions. I’d taken my nice, warm bath and was all dressed for bed. After all the traveling, I should have been exhausted, but my body was still on American time, and trying hard to fight sleep. I’d never been one to struggle with falling asleep before, and jet lag always managed to surprise me -- and screw up my sleep schedule. But there I was, lying in bed, tired but unable to actually do anything about it.

  There was one way, that without fail, I could fall asleep, I knew. I rolled over to the edge of the bed and dug around in my luggage until I found my faithful toy. The one thing that kept me sane after the breakup with Jeremy. The one thing that guaranteed sleep.

  It was shaped much like an average penis -- not too big, not too thick, not too crazy. It was just normal sized.

  But damn, I was craving the real thing.

  I turned the toy on the lowest setting, rubbing it against myself. I started slowly, teasing my opening and my clit with the gentle vibrations. Closing my eyes, I let my mind wander. In the past, I thought of Jeremy, but after I’d discovered that he’d been cheating on me, it was hard to imagine him without feeling shitty about myself. Then, for a while, I’d pick a random celebrity. A flavor of the week, I guess.

  That time, my mind went straight for Colin without even consciously thinking of him. At first, I tried to fight it, but it was just too easy. I could still hear his deep, thundering laugh and see those eyes and the way he looked at me. I could even smell him if I tried hard enough.

  I let it go, letting myself get wrapped up in the fantasy. His lips were so luscious and thick, and I pictured them kissing me, then moving lower, to my neck. I trailed my fingernails down from my face to my neck, drawing a line of where I wanted his mouth to go, where I wanted to feel his lips and tongue. I went lower, stopping at my breasts, circling my nipple as I continued teasing myself with my toy.

  Shuddering, I gasped as my body arched upward. My insides cried out, needing to be filled. It felt like something inside of me expanded to make room for Colin’s cock.

  “Please,” I muttered to myself, biting my lip as my fantasy became more and more realistic. “Please, Colin, I need you inside me.”

  My fantasy shifted, as they often did, to both of us completely naked. He hovered above me, staring into my eyes. I thrust my body upward, and moaned, the need inside me growing more and more demanding by the moment.

  I upped the speed on the toy, rubbing it around my clit with a little more fervor. Pleasure coursed through my body, but it wasn’t enough. I needed more. I needed to be filled completely.

  I teased the opening with the tip of my toy, imagining it was the head of Colin’s cock instead.

  “Please,” I muttered again in my fantasy.

  Before I could even finish my train of thought though, I shoved the vibrator inside of me. I let out a loud moan, my body quivering with absolute pleasure as I finally filled the void.

  Picturing Colin’s lovely face above me, his grey eyes boring into mine, his lips exploring every inch of my neck and chest, brought me to the edge almost immediately. My hand moved quickly, moving the toy in and out of me, my pace sending me racing to the brink. I yearned to wrap myself around Colin’s tight body as my orgasm approached.

  “Come inside me,” I muttered.

  I knew in reality, there was no way he’d be able to come inside of me. No way I’d let him. Even if we did have sex -- and there was no guarantee of that -- that was pure fantasy. But the image of him exploding inside of me, filling me with his seed, took me well over the edge. I came hard, my body trembling with pleasure as I cried out, calling Colin’s name into the empty hotel room, thankful that he wasn’t directly next door to me because I didn’t hold back.

  My pussy spasmed as I came down from the high. I laid there, breathing heavily, and gently pulled the toy out of me. It was drenched and would require a thorough cleaning the next morning, but my little session had accomplished exactly what I had hoped for.

  I was tired enough to sleep last.

  I dropped the vibrator beside me on the bed and pulled the blanket over me. I tried not to think about how empty my bed was, so instead, I imagined being curled up against Colin’s hard, tight body. And before long, I fell into a peaceful sleep.

  Colin

  “Whatever you do, don’t check your e-mail or do any work,” my mother told me over the phone.

  She’d called early that morning, which worried me at first since she rarely every called and she knew I was in Paris. Of course, I should have known it was to nag me about getting out, having some fun, and meeting a nice girl.

  “This is supposed to be a vacation,” she went on. “You not only deserve it, you need it, Colin.”

  “I know,” I said, sighing as I scrolled through my e-mail on the laptop in front of me.

  My gaze fell on one from Whitney, and my heart stopped for a moment. My chest lurching as hard as my stomach just seeing her name in my inbox.

  “Why are you so quiet? You’re not on your dang laptop already, are you?” she asked me.

  I closed the laptop and walked over to the bed, sitting down upon it. I rubbed my temples and squinted, a nasty headache was already hitting me pretty hard. My shoulders were tense and I could feel my blood pressure rising. I needed to relax, my mom was right. She was only looking out for me, even though I was a grown man who could take care of myself.

  Being her only child sometimes meant my mom would always hover and I would always be treated like her baby. Even though I was thirty-five years old and had a career of my own, I was all that my mom had. She’d wanted a lot of children when she was younger, but it didn’t work out for her. She’d had to have a hysterectomy at a young age thanks to cancer, and I knew it broke her heart.

  It was one reason she was in such a hurry for me to give her grandchildren. I couldn’t break it to her that it might never happen. That it probably wouldn’t. I was, after all, in my mid-thirties and nowhere near ready to start dating again after the nasty breakup with Whitney.

  “Colin?” Mom said.

  “Yes sorry, I have a headache,” I said. “It’s been a long few days.”

  “Which is why it’s imperative that you relax now before you give yourself a stroke or something,” she said.
“It’s just a shame Whitney couldn’t --”

  “Mom, stop,” I said. “Please don’t bring her into this.”

  Despite my best effort to shut it out, I could see her face in my mind the moment my mom uttered her name, I didn’t have to actually be there to witness the disappointment in her eyes. I knew the way it looked well enough. She didn’t know all the details about the breakup, or what caused it, and I intended to keep it that way. I didn’t like involving others in my personal affairs, especially not my parents. I was a grown-ass man, I didn’t need to tell them every little detail of my life.

  Mom sighed. “I’m sorry. I just don’t understand what happened between you two. You were always so good together.”

  My jaw clenched tight, and a searing pain shot through my head. It was all I could do to not lash out. Talking about Whitney was only making me more stressed -- the exact opposite of what I needed to be doing at that moment.

  I’d agree that to outsiders, Whitney and I looked like the perfect couple. She was also a doctor -- a heart surgeon to be specific. We both had busy schedules and sometimes found it hard to spend time together, but we understood each other. Or so I thought. We’d had our entire lives mapped out -- a life I was looking forward to. I was going to propose while we were on the trip together actually. But that was before everything had gone to to hell between us.

  “You know I don’t want to talk about it,” I said. “She’s happier without me anyway.”

  “Oh come on, Colin,” my mom pressed. “We both know that woman was madly in love with you, and can you blame her?”

  Madly in love with me, or merely using me to appear to make it look like she had the perfect life, when in reality, she was miserable as hell? It was hard to know, but the Whitney my mother spoke of, and the one I knew, weren’t the same woman. They weren’t even distant cousins. Whitney was a chameleon, and she knew how to work people. She knew how to get what she wanted. She was too busy listening to what everyone else told her she needed, and apparently, her parents and mine, told her she needed to be with me. And so, it came to be.

  It didn’t help that our parents were best friends. They were country club pals and had been for a long time. Whitney and I had known each other since high school and they’d been pushing for us to be together, to be that perfect All-American couple for as long as I could remember. Her parents more than mine. In fact, her parents pushed her to do everything they wanted her to do rather than asking her what she might want -- including pushing her to go to medical school to be a surgeon like her father and her grandfather before her.

  Sometimes being an only child felt like too much pressure for any one person to bear. I understood that feeling all too well, but even still, my parents had never pushed me to do those things they wanted, rather than taking what I wanted into account. They didn’t push me into being a doctor. I’d chosen my own path and was happier because of it.

  I couldn’t say the same for Whitney. She was a mess, but she was good at hiding it. She was a master of deflection and camouflage and I wasn’t about to let her little secret slip out. We might have broken up, but her personal problems were hers and hers alone, and they weren’t anyone else’s business. Besides, of course, those trying to help her. But I was done with that.

  Mom was still rattling on and on about Whitney, and how I was a catch that any woman would be thankful to snag. Typical mom stuff. I wasn’t even listening to her though. My thoughts wandered over to the time I spent with Hope and I felt a rush of emotion flow through me.

  Hope was so different from the women I’d been involved with before, even the flings I’d had since breaking things off with Whitney. Those women all wanted something from me, be it a career boost or a financially cushy life. Everyone always wanted something from me.

  But not Hope. She didn’t even grill me about my career or my net worth, like most women did. She didn’t know who I was. To her, I was just Colin. Dr. Colin, as she’d called me. There was something nice about being unknown, of being around someone who didn’t make me question whether they were with me because they liked me or because of what was in my bank account. There was something nice about being around somebody who accepted me as a simple, normal, everyday sort of guy.

  “Colin?”

  “Yeah, sorry,” I said, closing my eyes to try and relax. “What were you saying?”

  “Are you feeling okay?” she asked me, genuine concern in her voice.

  “Just tired,” I said. “And trying not to think about Whitney too much. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t keep bringing her up.”

  I realized too late that my tone was probably a bit harsh for my sensitive mother. I heard her gasp, then she fell totally silent for a few seconds. Normally, not wanting to hurt her feelings, I’d jump right in and apologize. I’d do whatever it took to soothe her feelings. But I was tired of having to listen to her defend Whitney -- implicitly chastising me for letting her get away -- when she had no idea who Whitney really was.

  “Fine,” she said curtly. “I’m sorry if I just want what’s best for you.”

  I rolled my eyes. There it was. My mom was jumping up on that cross pretty quickly. I loved my mom but sometimes, she tried to work that guilt angle a little too hard.

  “Maybe you don’t know what’s best for me in this case, mom,” I said.

  Again, it was probably a little too snappy, but I needed to be firm. It wasn’t something I was just going to roll over on. It was something she needed to let go. She needed to be reminded, yet again, that Whitney and I were the past, not the present, and definitely not the future.

  “I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me, Colin,” Mom said.

  There’s a lot I’m not telling you, I thought to myself but kept my mouth shut. Once she got a whiff of potential gossip, it would be all over. She could be like a pit bull with a bone when she got her teeth into something. She’d dig up the truth, whether I told her or not. Right now, she had no idea that my ex was addicted to a dangerous lifestyle that, if I’d stayed with Whitney, could have taken me down with her. But it was a private matter and it needed to stay that way, for Whitney’s sake. I owed her at least that much.

  “I’m going to get some sleep,” I muttered, rubbing my eyes.

  “Please tell me you have some plans tomorrow,” Mom said.

  I sighed. “Nothing set in stone, no, but I promise to have some fun,” I told her. “I have it written down on my calendar already.”

  “Good,” Mom said. “After the last few months, I think you need it. In fact, I know you do.”

  Yeah, yeah, trust me, I know, I thought. She was the reason I took the trip in the first place when all I’d wanted to do was cancel it after my split with Whitney. My mom reminded me that I wasn’t getting any younger, and that if I kept it up, I was going to die young like my dad -- just another workaholic who paid the price. My dad’s heart gave out on him after too much caffeine and too many uppers combined with a terrible diet, and maybe a little bad luck in the genetic lottery. I was making difference choices than my dad and took care of myself better than he did. It was why I made sure to eat healthy and work out often. I couldn’t control all aspects of my health -- my genes dictated some part of my longevity -- but I did what I could to stay healthy. Including taking a much-needed vacation now and then. Though I’d admit to having to be practically badgered into it.

  I hung up with my mom and debated looking at the e-mail from Whitney. We still kept in touch somewhat. Probably more than we should have, all things considered. She was still my friend, for better or worse – it was hard to drop an entire lifetime of friendship -- and I wanted to help her. Problem was, I wasn’t sure she wanted to help herself.

  I decided to just leave it be for the night. I was supposed to be stepping away from my life in L.A and all things connected to it. I was taking a vacation from work mostly, but also from other things like Whitney. Because she relied on me more than she should have considering we’d broken up months befo
re, I needed to stop being present for her. I needed her to stand on her own two feet and learn to live without me. And I needed to stop being so damn codependent. She was a big girl. Time for her to start acting like it.

  My mind, once again, drifted back to Hope.

  In my mind’s eye, I saw her light red hair. Her beautiful smile. Her girl-next-door features. There was a sweetness to her that had caught my eye from the start. There was a kindness that I was attracted to instantly. She was vibrant and from the sounds of it, living her life to the fullest. Not many people got paid to travel the world and write about it.

  That night, as I went to sleep, I forgot all about my ex and everything back in Los Angeles that was still waiting for me. That night, when I closed my eyes, I saw Hope’s sweet smile and heard her laughter ringing in my ears.

  I should have gotten her info, I thought to myself. I was so used to women throwing themselves at me, I assumed she’d call me no matter what. But as I laid in bed and thought of her, I knew she was different. I knew she wasn’t the type to throw herself at a man, no matter how much she wanted him. She was strong-willed, independent, and from the sounds of it, not really looking for anything. Not even a hookup.

  I wasn’t looking for anything either, of course, but hooking up wasn’t off the table. I could use some fun in my life, and I suspected that Hope was just the type of woman who would give me a run for my money.

  And for the first time since I set off for the trip, I was actually sort of excited about what might happen. There were possibilities that opened up I never expected. As long as she called, of course. Otherwise, Paris might prove to be incredibly boring.

  The e-mail from Whitney was still waiting for me when I woke up the next morning. I groaned, realizing it hadn’t only been a bad dream. I had always been an early riser, and the first thing I did upon waking up is check my e-mail. Even on vacation, that’s what I did. It was my routine, and my routines were important to me. I scrolled through my e-mails on my phone, still reclining in bed. After I’d gone through the rest of my new messages, I sighed as I came to her name again. I considered not opening it. I even thought about deleting it unread. But in the end, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t just turn my back on her completely -- and mentally kicked my own ass for it.