Coming Soon The Forbidden
by Jodi Ellen Malpas
Forever Romance
August 8, 2017
Annie has never experienced the 'spark' with a guy-that instant chemistry that renders you weak in the knees. That is, until a night out brings her face to face with the dangerously sexy and mysterious Jack. It's not just a spark that ignites between them. It's an explosion. Jack promises to consume Annie, and he fully delivers on that promise.
Overwhelmed by the intensity of their one night together, Annie slips out of their hotel room. She is certain that a man who's had such a powerful impact on her must be dangerous. She has no idea that he belongs to another. That he's forbidden.
Keeping his eyes on mine, he calls to the barman. “Two tequilas,
please.”
“Tequila,” I muse, looking over my shoulder when the salt and lemon
land behind me. “Is that my challenge?”
“Crying off?” he goads, reaching into his pocket and pulling out
some notes.
“Never,” I scoff, turning into the bar. I don’t know what his game
is, but I want to play. With him. “You’re asking me to prove I’m sober by doing
a shot?” I narrow my eyes on him, teasing. “Or is your plan to get me drunk and
take advantage of me?”
He smiles to himself as he pays the barman. “You don’t look like
the kind of woman who could be taken advantage of.”
“What kind of woman do I look like, then?” I challenge quietly.
He turns into me, watching me for a few moments. “I don’t know, but
I think I’d like to find out.”
I hold his gaze for a few seconds, no retort coming to me. I think
I want him to find out, too, just as much as I want to find out what kind of
man he is. My eyes drop from his
sparkling greys, down his tall, lean frame to his feet.
Oh…fuck…
“Let’s play,” he says, moving in closer and pulling one of the
glasses forward. I don’t mean to, but I yank my arm away abruptly when he
brushes against me, startled by the tiny stabs of pleasure that pitter-patter
all over my skin. The fleeting touch tells me he would feel as good as he
looks, and—give me strength—he smells divine, all manly and earthy and fucking
edible.
The sudden lapse in movement and talking from both of us becomes
slightly awkward. I can feel him looking down at me.
“What do I have to do?” I ask again quietly, almost on a breathy
gasp.
He clears his throat. “You’re not drunk?”
“Not even the slightest bit.” I raise my nose in the air.
“Good. Then you’ll smash this challenge first time.” He places a
finger on the brim of one of the shot glasses. “Brace your palms on the edge of
the bar,” he orders, firm but softly. I look at him, finding a serious face.
“Go on.”
Frowning, I place my hands on the edge of the bar. “Okay?”
He takes my hips. He takes my fucking hips! I freeze from top to
toe and swallow hard, waiting. My insides are quickly furling, my mind in
chaos. “Move back a bit,” he says, pulling at them a little until I step back.
Oh, Jesus. I’m on fire. I have a strange man bending me over a bar
in public, and me, Annie I’m-immune-to-men Ryan, isn’t fighting him off. It’s
like he has me under a spell. What gives? I dare not look behind me. I’m not
stupid enough to think Lizzy isn’t currently watching a man manipulate my body
to where he wants it.
“You feel tense,” he observes, releasing me and moving back to my
side.
I don’t deny it; neither do I confirm it. His big hands felt so
good resting on my hips, so much so I have to resist not claiming them and
putting them back where they were. “What now?” I ask, evidently struggling for
air, damn me.
“Now.” He picks up his beer and grins. “I get to gloat that I had
you bent over a bar within five minutes of meeting you.” He takes a swig, still
grinning, and I hear the roar of a man down the bar laughing his head off.
Oh, the fucker! Part of me has admiration. Another part of me wants
to slap him stupid; I don’t care how beautiful he is. And another part of me
wants to rip his clothes from his body and ravish the sly bastard.
I cannot believe I fell for it! How many women
has he played like a fiddle? I drop my head, shaking it to myself.
I knew that smile was dangerous. A man who can bend a woman to his
will so easily and so soon couldn’t
be anything less than lethal. And the fact that he got me with his wicked game
means hats off to him. I can’t possibly take that away from him, and since I’m
lacking in the dignity department right now, I decide not to slap him. Nor will
I chuck a drink over his head, or fire a load of verbal abuse at him.
I’ll do what he least expects.
I push myself up and turn to face him, unable to stop myself from
smiling at his half-grin. Holding his gaze, I slowly lick the back of my hand,
blindly take the salt off the bar, sprinkle a bit, and take one of the shots of
tequila. But as I’m taking my hand to my mouth to lick the salt up, he seizes
my wrist and takes the shot from my other hand. My heartbeat accelerates, our
eyes glued to each other as he moves into me and slowly brings my hand to his
mouth. I watch, gripped, as he lazily licks up the salt from the back of my
hand, eyes on mine, and then knocks the tequila back. Kill me now, for I will certainly die a happy woman. His tongue on
my skin. His eyes boring into mine. His hold of my wrist. I must look like a
statue—unable to talk, move, or think clearly.
“There’s one more tequila,” he says, cocking his head toward the
bar but keeping me in his sights. “And it’s yours.”
Oh good lord. My heart is speeding up by the second as I watch him
lick the back of his hand and sprinkle some salt. Then he offers it to me. I
stare at his hand, and then slowly look up at him. I could get lost in those
grey glittery eyes.
“I taste good,” he whispers.
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