To the rest of the world, Dante is Hollywood royalty, the ridiculously attractive oldest son of the notorious Fontaine family.To Ashlyn? He's the guy who made her swear off men forever.She just wants to move on with her life. Run her bakery. Heal her broken heart. She's had three years to try and forget about Dante Fontaine. (Spoiler alert: it hasn't worked.)But when an accidental - and seriously humiliating - encounter brings him back into her life, she's forced to realize that no matter how hard she's tried to forget him, Dante definitely hasn't forgotten her.. . . and this time, he's not going to let her go.Due to explicit scenes, this steamy second chance romance is rated 18+.The Sweet Taste of Sin is created by Ember Casey, an eGlobal Creative Publishing signed author.
View MoreMy stomach explodes with butterflies - but I'm not sure whether I'm excited or anxious as Dante slides his arm around me and leads me from the room. This whole evening - this whole relationship - is a lot to take in.He takes me out behind the house. The sun has gone down, casting the grounds in shadow, but from what I can see, the property is gorgeous. Like Dante, Charles and Giovanna have a large pool, but Dante leads me around the edge of the water to the terrace overlooking the gardens below.I grab onto the wrought-iron rail and tilt my head back, looking up at the sky. It's a clear night, and though the lights of the city cast a green-gold glow on the sky, there are still hundreds of stars winking back at me.Dante is quiet - too quiet. After a moment, I glance over at him, and I find him looking up at the sky with an expression I can't read. But he's got his lips pressed tightly together."What is it?" I ask.One corner of his mouth drifts up. "I was just trying to think of
The mansion of Charles and Giovanna Fontaine is insane.It's huge, of course. And gorgeous. And surrounded by grounds that make it look like we're somewhere in Tuscany. If I thought Dante's house was intimidating, it's nothing compared to this.Though I'm sure the fact that I'm about to meet his parents isn't helping my nerves.I'm a bundle of anxiety as Dante leads me through the front door. His arm is hooked through mine, his fingers offering a reassuring touch on my inner wrist."You look gorgeous," he murmurs to me as he leads me across the foyer and into the formal living room. "They're going to love you."The rest of his family is already here, and my breath stops as I take them in. At least one of the advantages of dating a Fontaine is that I already know the names of many of the people here in this room - there won't be any awkward lapses of memory later. Still, meeting everyone at once is more than a little intimidating. It's not just the fact that they're Dante's family,
"What about the press?" I ask Dante."We'll face together. We might have to deal with some rumors after word gets out that I've dropped Cataclysm: Aftermath. But we'll manage. Maybe I can arrange for us to take an extended trip to Bali."I laugh and wipe away a tear. "You know I can't leave my bakery for that long.""Then we'll figure out something else. But we'll do it together." He sobers a little. "I want you to tell me if you get any more harassing messages.""Only if you promise to tell me what's going on with your work." I look down at my hands on his chest. "I'm not trying to pry, I just...""I know." He tilts my face back up toward his. "We have a lot to share. A lot to keep discovering about each other." He twirls a loose strand of my hair around his finger, still looking far too serious. "You'll still have reporters and paparazzi poking around for a while, I'm afraid. I'm hoping that if I stay away from any high-profile projects, we might get a little privacy, but you ne
This can't be happening. Not here, not like this. This is too soon. This is too crazy."Dante..." I whisper. I can't make this decision with all of these people watching."I shredded that script," he murmurs against the backs of my fingers. "I told them to find someone else to rewrite it.""You didn't have to - ""I did. And I'd do it again."Panic is rising in my chest. "Dante, if we could go somewhere a little more private..."He brushes his lips against my knuckles. "I'll follow you anywhere you wish to go."I pull him to his feet and lead him back through the kitchen, past a wide-eyed Mama Pat and straight into the walk-in cooler. I have no idea what I'm going to say or do. But the moment the door is shut behind us, I find myself sinking against his chest.His arms come up around me - one around my waist, the other around my upper back, squeezing me to him as if he never intends to let me go. I press my face against his shirt."I'm scared," I whisper. "I'm so scared, Dante
My "vacation" doesn't leave me feeling much better.Sure, I get plenty of food and plenty of sleep - and both Mama Pat and her husband are kind, generous hosts - but my heart still feels heavy. I feel lost. Dragged out by a rip tide. And I'm not sure what to do but continue to push on. The moment I heard back from Jack - he agreed to meet for lunch this coming week, thank goodness - I switched off my phone. I've avoided television and the internet. I need time to think.But thinking is hard when I'm like this. Every time I close my eyes I feel Dante's arms around me. Feel his lips against mine. Feel his fingers on my skin. Sometimes, I let myself sink into those fantasies. But every time I do, the feelings of love and desire are quickly drowned beneath a rush of pain and fear. I love him. I love him so much I don't know what to do with myself. He holds my heart in his hands, could break it without any effort at all - and he knows exactly where my weak spots are. I hate that he has th
Mama Pat is my savior. She picks me up from Dante's house, and I don't think I've ever been happier to have a mama hen in my entire life.The moment I slide into her car she looks me up and down. "Need to talk about it, honey?"I shake my head. If I say a word about Dante, I'll lose my carefully maintained self-control, and I'm barely holding myself together as it is."Thank you for coming to get me," I tell her. "Normally I'd have called Jack, but he and I aren't exactly on good terms right now.""You know I'm always here for you, my dear."I do know. Mama Pat's been the closest thing I've had to a mother since my own died, and something about the way she's looking at me now - with compassion and understanding - softens me. I need a friend, a mom, right now."I'm an idiot," I say, leaning my head against the car window. "I should have known I wasn't strong enough to handle this. I knew I was being stupid and emotional... but I let myself fall right back into his arms.""Don't b
I can tell the exact moment Dante's eyes land on the sheet of paper because his fingers freeze. "Where did you get that?""Your notes blew off the table and I was picking them up." I shouldn't have looked at them, I know, but it's too late for such regrets. "Is this a character in your script? You're using this? Using me?"He doesn't speak for a long moment. Too long. And when the words finally come, he talks slowly, as if choosing every word carefully. "Writers use real people as inspiration sometimes, Ash. It helps us create characters that feel authentic. But a lot of influences go into a character. Bits and pieces from different people and different experiences."I'm still frozen in his arms. "Her name is Ashley.""That was the director's decision. It's his girlfriend's name - purely a coincidence.""But this note about me isn't a coincidence. You have a comment about her running a bakery... about her having emotional baggage..." But my eyes keep going back to the weaknesses:
I wake to the soft in-and-out of Dante's breath against my cheek.We're in his bed, and for once, I've woken before him. My body is draped across his, and his chest rises and falls beneath my arm. I can feel his slow, steady heartbeat beneath the pads of my fingers.For a long moment, I just lie there and stare at him. Watch the slight flutter of his dark lashes against his cheeks. Admire the long, hard lines of his body. He has a habit of kicking the sheets off while he sleeps, so most of his well-muscled form is in view. I let my fingers drift across the plane of his chest, following the path my mouth took last night. It must be close to dawn because the light that leaks in through the window is pale pink against his skin.I'm not sure how long I lie there watching him. My body feels languid, content. Any tension or anxiety I felt last night disappeared beneath Dante's passionate touch. I feel like we could take on the world together.We left the window cracked last night, and a
"Men were threatening you?" Dante demands. "Men you know?" His voice is so strained that he hardly even sounds like himself.I shake my head. "Strangers."The muscles of his chest are rigid beneath my hands. He doesn't move - doesn't even breathe - for a full minute."Why didn't you tell me this?" he demands finally. His eyes bore into me."I knew it would upset you.""Of course it upsets me!""Well, it's not like there's anything we can do about it," I say."You still should have told me." He releases me and turns away, his hands going to his hair."What good has it done, telling you?" I say. "You don't tell me everything, either. We've just started seeing each other again. It's okay to still have some secrets."He turns back toward me. "And what secrets do you think I'm hiding from you?""Not secrets, necessarily," I say. "But you dodge all of my questions about your work." Between the tense phone calls and his odd behavior at the studio, something is definitely going on.
In my opinion, there's no greater pleasure in the world than the buttery, slightly nutty flavor of a classic caramel sauce. The secret is, of course, to add a pinch of salt - just enough to stimulate the taste buds but not so much that you overpower the sauce's warm, buttery sweetness. For such a simple recipe, even the smallest change can make a huge difference - using brown sugar instead of white, for example - and after hours of experimenting, I think I've gotten my version just right. I've finally created a mouthwatering, toe-curling, devilishly perfect caramel sauce.Who needs sex when the world holds pleasures like this?I'm still licking bits of it off my spoon when I hear the jingle of the bell hanging on my bakery's front door."I'm coming!" I call around my mouthful of caramel. I toss my spoon aside and wipe my hands on my apron as I jog out of the kitchen.Jack Teegan, my best friend, is standing at the counter with a large to-go bag in his hand. His eyes are roaming ove...
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