**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—mild steaminess in this chapter 🔥
♫ I know, I know you know you're scared Your heart, your mind, your soul, your body ♪ (Nick Jonas ft. Tove Lo—Close) (OKAY but this video is FIRE EMOJISx1000)
"How do you know where I live?" Coralie lowered her far-from-threatening heel and picked up her key to stuff it into the lock, elbowing Ryan out of the way.
"You told me, don't you remember?" He chuckled, unfazed by her icy demeanor. "We joked about me showing up after one of our sessions, and you typed up your address. You didn't think I'd save that for emergencies?"
"Emergencies?" Coralie nearly kicked the door open and threw her purse onto the couch.
She spun to block Ryan from entering, but she wasn't fast enough. He slithered in and held onto the door, stopping her from trying to shove it in his face.
"You call this an emergency?" She pushed, desperate to give him the hint he wasn't welcome; but he was too strong, resisting her attempt at getting rid of him.
"I do. You telling me to fuck off on the sidewalk next to your bar didn't please me. I had to retaliate." His eyes narrowed as he seized the doorknob and yanked the door from Coralie's grasp to shut it.
She had nothing to prevent him from approaching her, so she flicked the light switch on, dropped her heels, and hurried into the kitchen, squirreling behind the counter, needing something large to separate them.
"You weren't listening to me, so I had to be a bit blunt."
"Bloody rude, you mean." To her dismay, he wandered farther inside and unbuttoned his suit jacket as he gaped at the décor, taking in his surroundings. "If I wasn't so shocked by it, I'd say it was quite sexyseeing you so angry."
She groaned; what was sexy was his voice, and his accent. She'd been so heated earlier that she hadn't taken a second to enjoy the way his words rolled out, the way his tone deepened when he spoke to her.
"Don't start," she said, biting her lip as she watched his jacket sliding down his arms in slow motion. "Don't take anything off, dammit! You're not staying here, you have to—"
"—leave?" He arrived at her side, having sauntered over too fast for her to stop him. She'd hoped to put something in his way, something to bar his route—but the only obstacle big enough would have been a barstool, and those were on the opposite side of the counter. Too far from reach.
She skidded to the right, to escape his intoxicating scent. Thanks to the faint kitchen light that she and Delilah always left on, she noticed his shirt was a baby blue shade, so tight around his muscles she had no trouble imagining the smooth skin underneath.
