**WATTPAD HQ EDITOR'S PICK Nov/Dec 2021**
BOOK ONE in the STEAMY FORBIDDEN ROMANCE series
Coralie Watson, a British thirty-year-old living in San Francisco, has a tormented past with men. Physical and mental abuse, abandonment issues, incompatibili...
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🔥STEAMY ALERT—very mild steamy content in areas🔥
♫ Girl you're really gonna need a maid To clean up the mess we made ♪ (Travis Garland—Homewrecker)
With a groaning—and still fairly intoxicated—Delilah in tow, Coralie dragged her suitcase through Heathrow Airport, fumbling with the extra weight of the clothes she'd impulse bought.
With her every step, she sensed her heart burrowing farther and farther into the depths of her core, nestling into the grave she'd dug for it the night before.
She'd woken groggy, her eyes bloodshot, and her body sore as if she'd danced for hours wearing the highest of heels. She'd woken grumpy, enraged, sorrowful, disgusted, and filled with regrets.
By the time Coralie had reached her, Delilah was fine. Yes, she'd ended up in a not-so-pleasant neighborhood. And yes, a few odd-looking men had hawked around her, waiting for the perfect moment to take advantage of her drunkenness. But she would have survived a few more minutes. She would have fended for herself while Coralie enacted her fantasy, to finish what she'd started. To kiss Ryan fucking Bennett for the first and likely the last time.
It would have been the culmination of her every desire; the dreamy, delicious kiss she'd always imagined they'd exchange. She'd had a few doubts in the past few weeks, pessimistic as she tended to be, envisioning a sloppy mess of clumsy tongues and excess saliva. But the night before, when she'd felt his breath over her lips and his fingers on her skin and his eyes plunging into hers, she'd known. She'd been certain that kiss would have exceeded her expectations and caused her to try to extend her trip to London to get more kisses from him.
But it wasn't meant to be, was it? She and Ryan weren't meant to lock lips, to brush their fingers over soft skin, to wrap around one another, get lost in one another, take each other on the ride of their lives.
As much as she hated to admit it, the universe sent her a sign—no, Coralie, you can't kiss Ryan. You can't fuck Ryan. Keep your legs closed.
Instants before embarking on the plane, her phone buzzed, giving her a reason to tune out of Delilah's rant about the after-effects of tequila.
"Yeah, well, I warned you," she said, as Delilah guzzled down her third bottle of water since they'd passed through security. "So you can't blame me for—"
Coralie's eyes bulged as she saw the message blinking on her screen.
"Fuck. Fuck."
"What?" Delilah shoved the near-empty bottle into her backpack and motioned for Coralie to give her the phone. "Is it him?"
Coralie didn't hand her the cell, but nodded, unable to remove her gaze from the words flashing before her.
Ryan Bennett: I can't stop thinking about you. I wish you hadn't left. That near-kiss is going to haunt me forever, Cora.
