Seducing the Stranger

  Contents

  About Seducing the Stranger

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Seducing the Enemy

  Seducing the Bride

  Wicked as Sin

  About Shayla Black

  Other Books by Shayla Black

  SEDUCING THE STRANGER

  A Forbidden Confession novella

  Written by Shayla Black

  This book is an original publication by Shayla Black.

  Copyright 2020 Shelley Bradley LLC

  Cover Design by: Rachel Connolly

  Edited by: Amy Knupp of Blue Otter

  Proofread by: Fedora Chen

  Excerpt from Seducing the Bride © 2020 by Shelley Bradley LLC

  Excerpt from Wicked as Sin © 2020 by Shelley Bradley LLC

  ISBN: 978-193659668-3

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by an electronic or mechanical means—except for brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews—without express written permission.

  eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away, as it is illegal and an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  * * *

  All rights reserved.

  ABOUT SEDUCING THE STRANGER

  * * *

  Will a hot night with a stranger spark more than she ever imagined?

  I’m Calla.

  I’m responsible. I plan. I’m cautious—always.

  Until I see him, the gorgeous stranger with the rugged hands and the dark mood.

  Instantly, I’m drawn. I can’t stop staring. I can’t stop wanting.

  When he makes me an indecent proposal, I do something shocking.

  I say yes.

  I follow a man whose name I don’t know to his hotel room so I can surrender my body.

  But what have I gotten myself into?

  And what will happen when I accidentally discover the identity of my sexy stranger?

  * * *

  Enjoy this Forbidden Confession. HEA guaranteed!

  Chapter One

  Las Vegas

  4 p.m.

  * * *

  Calla

  The tall man with the dark beard and even darker eyes striding into the swanky hotel bar might be the most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on.

  Oh, dear god.

  I sit up a little straighter in my barstool and cast a sidelong stare as the stranger stops six feet from me. He motions the bartender for a beer, then slams his hands on the bar and hangs his head. I can’t help but notice his hands—big and bronzed with pronounced veins running from hair-roughened forearms to blunt knuckles. Long fingers taper to clean, brutally short nails.

  I shiver. I’m in lust. I have a thing for hands, and his are the stuff out of my fantasies.

  Though his head is down, nothing about him seems despondent. Or heartbroken. But he’s feeling something… Frustrated? Exasperated?

  Finally, he raises his head and stares straight ahead. I glimpse his expression in the massive mirror over the bar. He’s angry. Incredibly, blazingly pissed off. The fury in his eyes should scare me. It could launch rockets and scorch earth.

  Perversely, I’m even more aroused. Or maybe that’s just his overall effect on me.

  As if he suddenly realizes he’s not alone, he shifts his regard. Our gazes meet in the mirror. My heart pounds. I should look away, let him have a moment of privacy to deal with whatever’s troubling him. But I can’t seem to pry my stare free.

  He turns his head, eyes narrowed, and all his considerable attention falls on me. My breath catches.

  Has any man ever affected me this way?

  The simple answer? No. Never. Not once.

  And I’m loving every moment I spend pinned under his stare.

  “What?” His confrontational bark startles me. His voice is as rough and merciless as his expression.

  “Are you okay?”

  He says nothing for a long moment, and I’m convinced he’s going to blow me off. I doubt he’s feeling conversational. And I’m sure the zing of attraction is completely one-sided.

  Finally, he growls, “What’s your name?”

  I swallow. “Calla.”

  His gaze dips to my nearly empty tumbler. “What are you drinking, Calla?”

  “Amaretto.”

  Just then, the bartender sets a frosty mug of some dark, imported beer in front of the gorgeous stranger. I realize then he never told me his name.

  “Get her another,” he tells the bartender.

  I should refuse. I came off the plane from LA three hours ago, and I still haven’t eaten lunch. I know without looking that dinnertime is fast approaching and I should find something to fill my stomach before I drink more. But if this shiver-worthy stranger is buying me a drink, I’m going to smile at him, partake, and continue to stare my fill.

  “Thank you,” I murmur.

  When the bartender steps away to mix my cocktail, the gorgeous man cocks his head. “Has anyone ever made you furious beyond words?”

  I consider his question. While I had a college roommate who came close once… “No.”

  But disappointed me? Oh, yeah. All the time.

  “So you don’t have any advice?” He gulps half his beer, giving no hint that he’s actually enjoying it on the way down.

  “Other than to say it’s not smart to try drowning it in booze, no.”

  He grunts before he downs more of his brew. “I should have guessed you’ve never been that angry. You’ve got a halo.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “The overhead lights reflect off all your shiny blond hair. When I walked in the door, it was the first thing I noticed. Makes you look like you have a halo.” His eyes narrow again. “You’ve got an angelic face to match.”

  Is that a compliment or a sneer?

  The bartender sets my fresh drink beside the empty one, then sweeps the first tumbler away. I see a smile lurking at his mouth before he disappears into a back room, leaving me alone with the surly stranger.

  “I’m no angel,” I argue.

  He raises an inky black brow and studies me so intently I have to struggle not to squirm under his gaze. “You’re under twenty-five. You have a steady job. Your apartment is somewhere between clean and spotless. You’ve probably never had more than a parking ticket. And”—he leans in, dark eyes drilling down through mine as if he can read my mind or see into my soul—“I’ll bet you’ve had fewer than five lovers. You’ve definitely never had a one-night stand. Where I come from, that basically makes you an angel.”

  My mouth hangs open. Yes, I’m gaping, but…how did he guess so much about me? “What makes you think all that?”

  “More than fifteen years in law enforcement. You get good at reading people. You going to try convincing me I’m wrong?”

  “This isn’t about me.” I clear my throat. “I’m sorry if I butted in. I saw you were angry, and I asked if you were okay. If you don’t want anyone to care, then I won’t.”

  Finally, he slides onto the stool next to mine and polishes off his beer. The heat of his thigh close to mine makes it hard to focus on anything except him.

  “I didn’t say that, angel. I’m just looking for a way to deal with my anger since I can’t beat the hell out of my dad for being a stubborn asshole.”

  “I kind of get that. I know I told you that drinking your anger away wouldn’t work, but I’m basically trying to do the same.
My mom is…an idiot.”

  He barks out a laugh. It comes with an expression that’s not precisely a smile, but it’s close. And it makes him even more stunning. His eyes warm. I’m even more drawn to him.

  “So I’m furious, and you’re…disappointed, I’m guessing. If drinking doesn’t work, what’s our next best option?”

  “What would you normally do to purge anger?”

  “Hit the gym. But I’m only in town for thirty-six hours, so I didn’t bring my gym clothes. What about you?”

  “I’m only in town until Sunday morning, too.”

  “No, I mean what do you do to get rid of your anger?”

  “I try to meditate.” But I’m not very good at it.

  He snorts. “Yeah, that’s not for me.”

  “I sometimes drink chamomile tea or watch a comedy.”

  Two more things I can’t picture him doing.

  He shakes his head. “Yeah…no. I have to figure out how not to be incredibly pissed—at least enough to act civil—by tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Can you really stay angry that long?”

  “I have a slow, hot fuse. It takes a lot to set me off, but once I’m there… I just came from seeing my dad. I already know I’m going to be pissed for a while.” He sighs. “I don’t even know why I came to Vegas. He called, and I thought I could save him. I’m a dumb ass.”

  “I’m in a relatively similar situation. My mom is so irresponsible and impulsive. She makes the same mistake over and over. Like now.”

  “And you’re here to stop her?”

  I shake my head. “It’s too late for that. I’m only here because she guilted me.”

  “And you’re not angry about it?”

  “I am, but I guess I just expect it at this point.”

  “My dad’s idiocy is something new. I’m not a fan.” He taps his thumb on the bar. “I have to figure out how to deal quickly. But we’ve ruled out booze, workouts, tea, and TV. Any other suggestions? I’ve only got one, and I doubt you want to hear it, angel.”

  The low note in his voice makes my breath catch. His suggestion is probably the same one screaming fire through my head.

  “Tell me,” I murmur.

  He stares at me with black eyes. The moment seems frozen. The overhead speakers pipe down the vaguely familiar strains of a rock guitar riff that’s both soft and provocative.

  “Sex.”

  I swallow. My heart pounds. I feel myself blush. Would I have it with him? If he asked, that is. I’m still not one-hundred percent sure he’s interested. I’m not convinced he’s not, either. But I’m attracted to him. Very. Deeply. Utterly.

  Whatever the gorgeous stranger’s name is, he’s right. I’ve had a handful of boyfriends, most thoroughly underwhelming. I put romance on the backburner to focus on my career as a food blogger these past few years. I haven’t had sex in longer than I’d like to remember. And I’ve never had a one-night stand.

  I’m suddenly eager to make an exception for him.

  “Yes.”

  He peers at me. “Yes…that’s a reasonable suggestion? Or yes, you’d let me have sex with you?”

  I gulp down half my drink and go for broke. “Both.”

  He doesn’t immediately jump to his feet and hustle me out of the bar. “Why?”

  “It’s”—I shrug—“a feeling. That I should. That I’ll regret missing out on you if I don’t. But you may not have meant me at all, so—”

  “I did.” He leans closer, and I can’t stop staring at his glittering dark eyes or ridiculously long lashes. For a man, he’s beautiful. “I wanted you the instant I walked into the room.”

  My breath catches in my chest. “Same.”

  “Are you staying in this hotel?”

  I shake my head. “My mother is. I’m down the Strip.”

  “I’m upstairs if you’re really game, Calla. But one thing.”

  Am I going to do this, be intimate with a man whose name I don’t even know?

  Yes, I really am. Me, the girl who’s never done anything impulsive? I’m going to live on the edge for once. “What?”

  “I’m not a gentle man, even on a good day. And, Calla, this isn’t a good day.” He cups my chin with a touch so restrained, I shudder. “I won’t hurt you…but I won’t go easy on you.”

  He’s exactly the sort of man I’ve been secretly fantasizing about—larger-than-life, take-charge, brimming with testosterone. Base. Alpha. Savage.

  Since college, my friends have been insisting their lives are much better without men and marriage, attending rallies and marches, and insisting their soy-boy co-workers are so masculine it’s toxic. I’ve smiled and nodded, fully agreeing that women should receive equal pay for equal work and that women can be every bit as capable as a man. But my educated brain is in constant conflict with the primal urges of my body. I crave a man who oozes aggression to turn all his barely contained sex drive on me.

  I’ve hated these desires. I’m ashamed. My friends would be aghast and demand that I evolve beyond them immediately. I’ve tried. A lot. I even took their suggestion to buy a better vibrator.

  It’s not working. Nothing is.

  Maybe this stranger will cure me. He’ll either scratch my itch or prove my fantasy ridiculous. Whichever happens, I’ll be better off. Besides, if I don’t try surrendering to a man who makes every inch of my skin spark, won’t I always regret passing him by?

  “I don’t want you to,” I murmur.

  Something on his face changes. The hesitation in his black eyes suddenly melts in a blaze of heat. “Then there’s nothing left to talk about. Let’s go.”

  When he calls out for the bartender, I lay my fingers on his arm. It’s every bit as warm and steely as I imagined. “There is. One thing.”

  “What?”

  “Are you married or taken?” I couldn’t live with that.

  He’s not wearing a wedding ring, nor do I see a tan line where one once lay, but that doesn’t always mean anything.

  “No.”

  He doesn’t hesitate and he doesn’t look away. I don’t know this man at all, but every gut instinct tells me he’s being honest. “Thank you. Don’t you want to know if I’m single?”

  He shakes his head. “I know your kind. You wouldn’t have said yes if you weren’t.”

  “I wouldn’t,” I agree, voice trembling with anticipation.

  He quickly pays the bartender, and I mull everything I’ve ever heard about safely hooking up. I’m supposed to tell someone where I’m going and with whom. I’m supposed to create check-in times and backup plans.

  I don’t do any of that. My gut says I’ll be one-hundred percent safe with this sexy stranger. Maybe that’s stupid, and I’ll regret it. But for once, I’m shutting off my logic and relying on instinct.

  He wraps his hand around mine, grip firm, and leads me out of the empty bar and through the smoky noise of the casino before stopping at a bank of elevators. There’s a collection of businesspeople checking in to attend a convention downstairs, as well as a family gearing up for their weekend away. Despite the fact it’s late afternoon, a pair of girls are already completely trashed and hitting on a casino attendant passing by.

  When the elevator doors open, a cross-section of humanity tumbles out, then the others waiting beside us jump in. I move to follow, but the stranger tugs me back against his body. His erection prods the upper curve of my ass as he eases my hair over one shoulder and whispers in the opposite ear. “We’ll take the next one.”

  As soon as the door closes, a ding a few feet away tells me there’s another car waiting. He hustles me to it, all but carrying me when my stilettoes prevent me from matching his long-legged, ground-eating pace. Once we’re inside, he sets me down and stabs a button to close the elevator door. Then he turns with a dark, burning stare, sexual intent plastered all over his face. He’s going to use me to the fullest and relish every moment of turning my body inside out.

  My heart stops. My brain screams at me to exercise ca
ution and back out.

  I don’t say a word.

  He wraps one arm around my waist. With his free palm, he grabs my nape, manhandling me until I look up, snaring myself in his gaze. “Last chance.”

  To back out? “I said yes for a reason.”

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He pushes the button for the twelfth floor and the car begins to whoosh up.

  I should probably ask questions or tell him I’ve never had a lover overwhelm me. Or simply plead with him for mercy. But I don’t want any. I don’t know even one man like him among the coffee-drinking, beard-growing, enlightened granola males in my circle of acquaintances. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious and excited…and ready to indulge in all my fantasies.

  “Duly noted.”

  His eyes turn impossibly darker as he crowds me with his big body. He’s hard and overwhelming. He smells like wood, leather, and pheromones. The way he wraps his fists around my long hair and tugs until my scalp tingles excites me. Then he pins me against the wall of the elevator and shoves his knee between my legs, my pencil skirt scraping up toward my hips. My heart races as he twists me in his big grip and settles my wriggling weight on his thigh.

  “You’re in trouble, angel.”

  God, I can barely breathe past my excitement. “What are you going to do?”

  “Make you come for me before we leave this elevator.”

  When I gasp, he swallows the sound with his mouth. He doesn’t merely lay his firm lips over mine. He surges inside my mouth, overtaking it as thoroughly as he overtakes my will. He kisses like he owns me. He makes me his with one sweep of his tongue. I can’t find a shred of will to resist.

  Then he guides my hips to rock on his thigh. Heat flares between my legs, firing out to the rest of my body and incinerating my good sense. My skin threatens to liquefy under his touch.