BOOK TWO in the STEAMY FORBIDDEN ROMANCE series -- please read BOOK ONE, Illicit, before proceeding with this novel!
Coralie Watson, now living in NYC to focus on her singer/songwriter career, has landed herself in quite the predicament. Stuck in a...
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♫ I know your type, I spent too many nights Black mascara dripping from my eyes So I tell myself girl, don't get, girl, don't get too close ♪ (Vera Blue—All the pretty girls)
"I... well... shit." Coralie regained her balance and was happy to be seated, otherwise she'd have fallen on her face.
It wasn't unlike Chester to hit her with information that floored her, but this was different. He'd seen her perform and seen her sneak out to yell at Ryan?
If he noticed, then who else did? Is Michael already suspicious and I don't even know it?
"Hey, it's okay." Chester reached across the table and patted her hand. The contact of his rough skin on hers woke shivers that wrapped around her fingers and crawled up to her shoulders. "Who am I to judge? I don't do monogamy, most days. The only time I tried, I got my heart broken." His finger-pads pressed onto her hand, and a jolt of some impossible to define sensation shot into Coralie's core. "But you, double-teaming? Damn, that's impressive. Hot, even. Nice, Cora. Nice."
Gaining approval from something so shameful bothered Coralie. But coming from Chester, she had to admit it was unsurprising. He'd always preferred to be unattached, uncommitted, to have the option to roam about as he pleased and sleep with whomever he wanted to. But he knew Coralie—that she valued truth and fidelity and loyalty, and that such a behavior was way out of her comfort zone.
So why was he congratulating her? Why would he encourage her situation when it made her feel disgusting?
"It's... it's not hot, Chester." She gulped, and her gaze dropped to her cup. "It's confusing, and crippling, and I fucking hate it. My heart says one thing, my," she lowered her voice and cringed, "my vagina says another, and my brain can't make sense of any of it. I'm so, so lost and about ready to tell both dudes to fuck off so I can be celibate again."
"Celibate? You?" He huffed. "What a waste. No way." Angling forward, he squeezed her hand. "Tell me about them. Tell me everything, babe. We haven't seen each other for so long, so I need to know more, so I can help you." Despite the dryness of his skin, his touch infused a sense of warmth into her. A sense of trust, of ease; he wouldn't judge her, he wouldn't blame her, and he wouldn't care that she was a sinful piece of shit.
As if no time had passed, as if they'd never paused their friendship, she confided in him. She explained how she'd met Michael, how she'd worked for him, and they'd lost touch for a few years until he happened to pop up at The Swirled Lady. How he'd recognized her, asked for her number, and used it. She described him to Chester—even showed him a few pictures—and detailed how sweet, caring, and thoughtful he was. That he had that soulmate appeal; that he gave off that vibe that he was serious, dedicated, and the kind of guy you'd want to keep around forever. Chester found him endearing... but then she mentioned the other man, and his interest grew tenfold as she divulged his name.
