by Shayla Black
“Edie.” I roll backward by a good three feet, using the thrust to assist in holding up my hands. “Holster the six-shooter, cowgirl. The packet only contained some more red-tape paperwork to sign—which I did this morning and had messengered back over to his legal lemmings.”
She puts away the figurative weapons, though maintains her vigilant position at the edge of my desk. Her incisive scrutiny isn’t going away soon either. “So…you weren’t up half the night, fretting about new Fuckhorn shenanigans?”
I park my elbows on my armrests. Though my hands are still raised, I close my fingers in on my palms. “No, honey.” I even throw in a relaxed smile, because I can.
“So why were you up?”
So much for relaxed. “I wasn’t—”
“The hell you weren’t.”
And so much for attempting to scoot that tiny fib past her. Not by a shred. Especially not as the woman folds her arms, subjecting me to an even harder dose of her take-no-prisoners examination—
Right before she jolts all the way back to her feet.
And then drops her arms, in time to the dazed blink-blinks of her huge Kelly greens. “Ohhh, Katydid,” she cries, just as I give in to a shit-eating grin. “You really did, didn’t you?” She rushes around to my side, wasting no time in shoving my keyboard away to create a parking space for her butt. “Finally! You have been so overdue, wench!” She tosses another dramatic look toward the ceiling. “Thank the freaking almighty for small miracles.”
“Hmmm.” I surrender to a new smirk while bobbing my head from shoulder to shoulder. “Depends on what you call small…”
“Ohhh, holy shit.” She leans forward. “Spare no details, damn it. Who? How? When?”
It’s as good a segue as any for my rueful grimace. And my tactful extraction from her hold. “Not here and not now, okay? I love you, but there really are ears in these walls.” All right, maybe not in the walls, but possibly heading down the hall right now…on long, sinewy legs that meshed between mine and with mine in every right way…for hours and hours…in positions I’ve only ever dreamed about…
“All right, fine.” The woman doles out an impressive pout. “Drinks tonight, then?” she presses. “Unless you already have plans with Mr. Up-All-Night?”
Unbelievably, despite my exhaustion, I chuckle. “No plans,” I murmur. “Not tonight. Or for that matter, any other night.”
“What?” She gives up waggling her brows for a wide-eyed gawk. “But why?”
I pull in a deep breath. “Because being the one who slipped through his fingers is much different than being the one he can’t ever let go.”
“Huh?”
Before I can give her the missing piece for that part, Adan does the job much better than I can.
With the brilliance that belongs solely, spectacularly to him.
At once, I surge to my feet—though like Edie, I’m already tempted to drop my jaw—as he strides into the room behind Sketch. He’s dressed much differently than the last time I saw him. A quick dash back to his hotel, where he cleaned up for the day’s meetings, has ensured that. His tailored sport coat and matching slacks complement a crisp white dress shirt that hugs every proud, hard striation of his tapered torso.
But all too easily, I picture him naked again. In my mind’s eye, his clothes are fried away—and I’m exalting in his bare goodness with my gaze, my fingers…my mouth. I devour him everywhere. Over those molded shoulders. Across that sculpted stomach. And around that part of him that wouldn’t relent on me last night. That came inside me, over and over again…
I choke down a strained swallow.
Thank God Sketch picks that moment to whomp his hands together. The action is mated to the zealous light in his eyes—to which I try not to overreact. Is this just the guy’s normal infectious happiness, or is he covering up something else? Like…tension? Can he already detect the chemistry between Adan and me? Can he tell what we did together last night, just by looking at us?
Now I’m the one who feels naked.
And damn it, Adan and his intense stare aren’t making the sensation easy to ditch. Or even preferable to think about.
Just get through the next hour. Sixty minutes, Kate. You can do this. Push through this, and you’ll be past the storm. Into the sunshine beyond his mesmeric gaze, his muscled glory, his potent energy. Into the space where you can teach yourself to move on without the fantasies of him. Without the hope of him…
Ever again.
“Good morning, ladies!” Sketch’s greeting is full of contagious motivation.
Adan, standing there like the god-on-high of gorgeous, simply murmurs, “Morning.”
“Ahhhh, yes!” Edie hops over like a gawking bird. “Good—ummm—morning!”
“Hi. I’m Adan—”
“Tyler,” she finishes, and pumps his hand up and down like a star-struck fan—except that she obliterates the impression in the next moment, ping-ponging her knowing gaze between him and me. “Oh, I know who you are.”
“Aha!” Sketch exclaims—and once, my heart spatters against my ribs—until he rambles on, “You see what I mean, man?” He backhands Adan’s shoulder. “Our marketing team is really on top of all this. Edie here already knows who you are.”
“And I’m flattered.” The smile he joins to it is enough to make my friend sway and bite her lip. “Thank you…”
But his charm goes somber nearly the next second later, as he swings his stare back to me like a pair of bronze scimitars aiming for a sapling. Like that poor baby tree, I’m down in two seconds. Beyond my control, I’ve plonked to my ass atop my chestnut credenza.
“But…?”
Sketch fills in the word that Adan’s all but implied. I twist my hands in my lap, expecting a long and awkward silence. But I should know better by now. This is Adan Tyler, the boy who took me by surprise eleven years ago, and then again last night.
And now, after just three seconds, does it again.
“But I’ll still be interfacing primarily with Miss Casey for the new lines, right?”
I bug my eyes. “The new what?”
Edie beams with hers. “Well, this sounds like fun.”
And of course, Sketch is smirking like a dude about to dive into the Pacific with his longboard at daybreak. “Of course; of course,” he declares. “Just like we discussed, man.”
I shake my head, feeling like I just slept through an Avengers end credits scene and missed all the good spoilers. “I—I don’t understand.”
Sketch rocks back on his heels like the guy wearing the Tony Stark limited edition T-shirt. “Adan and I have been talking for a bit this morning. He had some meetings in Oakland that were canceled. Turns out those suckers’ loss is Up-To-Eleven’s gain.”
“Oh yeah?” Now Edie’s bobbing on the balls of her feet. Like I said, Sketch is damn contagious when he gets this exhilarated.
“Ohhh yeah!” Sketch returns. “Ladies, you are the first in the company to learn that Adan Tyler will be launching his own line of stunt bikes, custom skateboards, and active wear—all designed by him, in tandem with our epic teams, and distributed exclusively through Up-To-Eleven.”
For a long pause, the room falls into silence again.
Just before Edie shatters the air with her raucous squeal. “Ohhh my God! This is epic.” She launches at Adan, hauling him into a fangirl hug. “You’re epic.”
“And you are too.”
“We’re going to make you look so damn good, Adan Tyler.” She steps back and playfully chucks him on the chin. “I mean, shiiit. Look at this jawline!”
Sketch joins in with a laugh. “This guy was made for cutting-edge tech—starting with that face.”
Edie gives them both an assessing look. “Maybe we should test the theory,” she says. “By finding some champagne glasses. If Adan can’t slice ’em, maybe we can just drink out of ’em instead.”
Adan grins. “I think that’s an outstanding opening initiative.”
“Then we�
�re off to make it happen.”
She links her elbow with Sketch’s and practically skips while guiding him toward the door. Just before she swings the portal shut, effectively sealing me in with the world’s most alluring and incredible man, she throws me a huge, get-him-girl wink. I’m ready to fling back a what-the-hell glower, but she doesn’t see it—mostly because Adan has already stepped in the way, ready to take over my personal space as soon as the door clicks shut.
And oh, how he does.
With a kiss that, unbelievably, sears me more than any I can remember from last night. This meld of our lips and crash of our tongues feels more luxurious. More joyous.
More certain.
But…how can this be?
I hear myself repeating the words aloud as soon as he releases my lips—but my head is a dazed swirl, struggling to comprehend all this. Am I really reeling here, my lungs pumping and my bloodstream tingling? Am I really filling my senses with his Tarzan-irific smell again? Am I really staring up into his wildcat-bright eyes, dazzled by their heated force, as he answers my confused whisper with his soft, steady nod?
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “It can be, my sweet Kate.” He doesn’t veer his gaze while snaking his big, firm hands around my waist and then along my spine. He tucks in his posture, pressing his forehead to mine, before dipping his voice to a rasp for my ears alone. “I don’t want to let this go, sweetheart. I can’t let you go. I was an idiot for doing it in the first place…”
With a tiny smile, I cup a hand to his champagne-flute-slicing jaw. “At the reunion?”
“Uh-huh.” He takes my lips in a soft kiss. “In the library.”
My heart skips a beat. The center of my body starts clenching and trembling. “Oh, Adan…”
“I just want to be near you, okay?” he confesses. “And yeah, I know it won’t be easy. I know we can’t go public with this, and I’m ready to respect all those boundaries for you. I won’t do anything to get you in trouble. I’ll get a place over in Sausalito if I have to—”
“The hell you will!”
He parts his lips with sultry intent. “Oh, I don’t know. It might be kind of fun, you know.” And then rubs my nose with his, like the king of the jungle scenting his mate. “I can be your dirty little secret, baby…waiting for you to get home from the office, wearing nothing but a casserole and a smile.”
“Oh my word.” I breathe it out while wrapping my arms around his neck. I twist my fingers into his thick, silky hair, not taking no for an answer as I wordlessly demand a deep, desire-filled kiss. But just in case he doesn’t get the message that way, I whisper, “As long as I get to say how and where I eat the casserole.”
A sensual snarl vibrates from deep in his chest. “Well, a hardworking woman needs her meals…hot.”
After we kiss again, for a minute I yearn to turn into hours, Adan drags up from me far enough to press a caressing hand to my face too.
“When a guy’s on the half-pipe and can’t get a move right, everyone tells him to learn from the falls and to keep trying again.” He pulls in a deep breath. Widens his beautiful smile. “But right now, I’ve fallen hard…and I like the scrapes with your name on them, Katherine.”
Katherine.
And now, I’m smiling too. Through my overjoyed tears. At the boy who’s been my secret crush for so long…who’s now the man who’s the secret lover of every wanton fantasy in my mind, my body, my soul.
Ready to confess that the girl in me has grown into a woman…ready to try for him. Ready to risk for him.
And yeah…ready to fall down too.
About Angel Payne
USA Today bestselling romance author Angel Payne loves to focus on high-heat romance starring memorable alpha men and the women who love them. She has numerous book series to her credit, including the action-packed Bolt Saga and Honor Bound series, Secrets of Stone series (with Victoria Blue), the intertwined Cimarron and Temptation Court series, the Suited for Sin series, and the Lords of Sin historicals, as well as several standalone titles.
Angel is a native Southern Californian, leading to her love of being in the outdoors, where she often reads and writes. She still lives in Southern California with her soul-mate husband and beautiful daughter, to whom she is a proud cosplay/culture con mom. Her passions also include whisky tasting, shoe shopping, and travel.
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Prologue
He’s forbidden, dangerous, and everything that’s bad for me. More than that, the life he leads is exactly why I’d been on the run.
The seductive and powerful air around him is what drew me in, the reminder of what could have and should have been years ago.
His dark gaze riddled with desire could always see through me. Deep down to the core of what I craved most. To be his.
And so I agreed. I came back. I chose him even when I knew I shouldn’t.
If only it were so easy to forget the past. If only our mistakes didn’t hold on to us, harder and more violently than we could hold on to each other.
Seductive is an extension of Addison and Daniel’s story, Possessive. Although it can be read on its own, it’s recommended you start with Possessive.
1
Addison
I knew when I came back here that I was making a choice. I was choosing Daniel over everything. Over the life I’d live without him and where I’d live it — far away from here and these memories.
Men like him come with those kinds of complications.
Men like him are… There are many words I could use to describe him. The most fundamental statement, though, is so easily admitted and it’s the very reason I chose him.
Men like him need to be loved or the damage will consume them. More than anything. In this cruel world he’s cemented into, with a tragic past and ruthless tasks ahead, he needed to be loved. He still does…
My gaze lingers on what looks like carrots or sweet potatoes, some sort of orange mush in tiny little glass jars. The packs are stacked high on the shelf. The black and white silhouette of a smiling baby stares back at me and I have to push my cart forward, listening to the quiet squeaks of the turning wheels as I think about how I ended up here.
I was reckless, that’s how.
Grocery shopping with Daniel wasn’t one of the things I was considering when I returned to where I grew up. I was thinking of the drugs, the violence, his brothers, and how powerful they’ve become. It wasn’t like this back then. Not at all. It wasn’t this bad. Back then, I thought they’d grow out of it one day. At least that’s what I’d hoped. I didn’t think they’d eventually come to rule this merciless world.
It’s all surreal. Every day since I’ve been back has brought a fear and tension that’s seeping into my every waking moment.
He knows. That’s why I’m here.
Shopping for milk and orange juice feels like a sham. Like for a moment, I can maybe pretend this past week didn’t happen. As if the white noise from the man on the intercom can drown out the sounds of the last six months.
“Feel like you’re playing house, now?” Daniel quips as I stop and watch him settle a jar of salsa, two bags of tortillas, and a case of something else into the half-full cart. His tone is optimistic.
“I didn’t say ‘playing house,’” I correct him and note how cold it feels along with how dull my heart beats.
I wish I could fix my face right now; I wish I could smile and pretend like it’s all fine, like they all do, but it’s not and I’m finding it difficult to hide it from him. Especially after what just happened. I could deal with it; I was dealing with it. But things change. And the past month changed everything.
He doesn’t hide a damn thing from me anymore, so it’d be unfair to hide from him. But what’s left for him to see isn’t what I want to be there.
I’m still staring blankly at the case beneath the bags of chips when his muscular forearm cu
ts off my vision. His strong hand wraps over mine on the handle of the cart and his other grips my chin, lifting it up. I have to look away from his rolled-up sleeve and into his dark eyes. With his rough stubble in need of a shave, and his hair messy on top, he looks as rough as I feel. Rough looks damn sexy on Daniel Cross though. It always has; it’s who he’s meant to be.
“I know it’s been hard,” he says, and his voice is low and calm, his gaze soft and comforting.
“Hard?” I force a smile to my lips as the bottom one wobbles and he looks past me, dropping his grip on my chin. I’m quick to reach out and take his hand though. I just need to feel him. “I’m sorry,” I tell him quickly. That’s what I am: sorry, pathetic, weak. The list goes on. I knew what he had become. What they had become. And I still chose to come back. I did this. It was my fault. But a lie slips out instead. It’s easier to deal with it if I lie to myself the way he lies to me. “I didn’t know what I was coming back to and it’s been…”
“Hard,” he answers for me.
“Stressful,” I correct him and the tension grows tenfold between us. I look up to my right when I notice motionless figures and feel their eyes on us. My own are pricking, distraught from what’s happened and how much I’m losing.
I can hear the harsh swallow Daniel makes and I watch the cords in his neck tighten as he holds my hand in his. He lifts my hand to his lips and then kisses my knuckles. One by one.
“It’ll be okay,” he whispers against my skin, and all the warmth from those words travels through me, calming me. Making me feel lighter, as if I believe him wholeheartedly.
It doesn’t change what happened.
Nothing can ever change what happened, but we have a choice about how we handle it. I’m starting to think I made the wrong one.
That’s why I hold his hand longer than he holds mine. That’s why I stand there watching him leave when he tells me he’s getting the rest of what’s on the list and says for me to just get the bread. I don’t miss the depth in his eyes, the distance that lingers. Every day, he’s farther away from me. He knows. He can feel it too. It’s like the slow unraveling of thick twine. It’s obvious and torturous to watch.