“For someone who’s soon to be married, you sure look miserable, Mr?” “Creed,” the man replies, his words slurred, almost like he’s absent minded. “Alexander Creed.” He completes. . . . Two days to the wedding. Two days to Alexander’s wedding, his path crosses with a girl who makes him feel like himself. Evangeline. They share a dance at a club, and that dance led to a steamy night together. A steamy night that somehow left lingering emotions. When Alexander decides not to push through with the wedding, his bride-to-be reveals a heartbreaking information. Evangeline’s and Alexander’s meeting was never a coincidence. For Evangeline, it was just a job, but for Alexander, her name has refused to evade his memory. What will happen when she returns three months later with the resulting factor of their affair? Read to find out.
View MoreAlexanderIt’s my wedding day. . .or supposed to be, and yet, here I am, in my suite, refusing to move a muscle, to dress up and appear in church as the groom. My suit hangs neatly in the closet, untouched, while I sit on the edge of the bed, head in my hands.It’s her. The girl from the club.Evangeline.I call her angel because she sure as hell looks like one. Soft brown eyes that naturally remain wide, always demanding. Damning. Look into her eyes for a second too long and that is all you think about for the rest of your life.Those eyes are replaying in my mind constantly. They have been replaying in my mind since the day I asked her to leave—two days ago.I didn’t mean to.I was afraid, scared of falling too deeply with a woman I just met, scared that she was too good to be true. And then I messed it all up, sent her away without any way of reaching out to her.I shouldn’t be thinking about her. I should be thinking about my wedding, about my bride. But I can’t, I simply cannot g
EvangelineThe air in London carries a distinct flavor—crisp, cold, and faintly redolent of rain. Alexander's car is gently gliding through the streets, but the man I’m accompanying is looking out the window, his face taut as if his thoughts are eating him alive. Maybe there are. I need to change that though. It’s after all what I’m here to do—keep his mind off things, keep him happy before his wedding in two days.His jaw is tense, clenched so tight I can see the flexing of his teeth, his fingers drumming against his knee, saying much more than actual words could. His head is elsewhere. He’s thinking about everything—his confusion, the wedding, her, them, maybe even me.Perhaps he’s wondering how a harmless night in the club yielded this moment. A woman he doesn’t know in his car, traveling with him after sharing a steamy night. It can be overwhelming even for a man like him.I look out the window and my eyes widen, a smile splitting my face. “Stop here, Peter!” I exclaim excitedly,
Evangeline“Fuck. . .”I hear the grumble of that word over and over and over. The voice distant, almost soundless like an inaudible echo in my head. I hum and stir, groaning in relief at the softness that wraps around me from beneath.“Fuck, What the fuck have I done?” I hear again, louder and firmer this time.A man.A man.Fuck, a man. My breath catches as realization settles in, my pulse quickening to the memories that slams into me. Memories of last night, the bar, the drinking, the kisses, the tongue that had me orgasming many times over, and the cock that railed me throughout the night. Mr. Alexander Creed.I jerk up from the bed, sitting up with a strained grunt. Gosh, my head is hurting so bad. “Fuck,” I whisper, the tips of my fingers massaging my temple. I feel his gaze burning into me, almost piercing through my skin. What now. . . I crane my neck to the side and stare back at him with just the same amount of intensity he’s staring me with. His throat moves as he swallo
EvangelineI’ve always been drawn to the unknown, and this night is no exception.I’m sitting at the bar, slowly sipping probably my third glass of whatever the fuck the barman mixed up for me. I like it, it’s why I’m on the third glass. Do you know why I like it? Because it makes me so sensitive, so aware of my surroundings. So aware of the man in a black suit staring at me with intrigue from the other end of the bar.Or maybe he isn’t staring at me. Maybe it’s me who’s staring at him.Isn’t he the groom—or groom to be?It has to be him. I think I saw his friends dumping a full bottle of whiskey down his throat, screaming about how he should enjoy his last nights of freedom.It has to be him.God forgive me for drooling over someone else’s husband to be, but this man is beautiful; dangerously handsome. He’s still sitting, but I can tell he lacks nothing in height too. And his hair, it looks like he just walked out the shower after having the most demanding sex of his life.What am I
EvangelineI’ve always been drawn to the unknown, and this night is no exception.I’m sitting at the bar, slowly sipping probably my third glass of whatever the fuck the barman mixed up for me. I like it, it’s why I’m on the third glass. Do you know why I like it? Because it makes me so sensitive, so aware of my surroundings. So aware of the man in a black suit staring at me with intrigue from the other end of the bar.Or maybe he isn’t staring at me. Maybe it’s me who’s staring at him.Isn’t he the groom—or groom to be?It has to be him. I think I saw his friends dumping a full bottle of whiskey down his throat, screaming about how he should enjoy his last nights of freedom.It has to be him.God forgive me for drooling over someone else’s husband to be, but this man is beautiful; dangerously handsome. He’s still sitting, but I can tell he lacks nothing in height too. And his hair, it looks like he just walked out the shower after having the most demanding sex of his life.What am I ...
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