by Elizabeth Finn
RELEASE DATE COMING SOON!!
Cohen is a man apart on Bristol Island—an outcast loved by all but separated by his position within the community. Dylan is the newest resident in town, but she arrives with a dark secret and a desire to keep it buried.
But when burning attraction is thrown into the mix, his job and her secrets are quickly forgotten—that is until one impetuous decision renders a relationship off-limits, unethical, and utterly inappropriate.
Living next door to one another on the island’s isolated peninsula guarantees their paths will cross time and time again. With fate tempting Cohen to ignore his conscience and, for the first time in his life, gamble with the rules, will he risk everything for Dylan?
And what happens when Dylan’s past suddenly catches up to her? Will she find the strength to bare her soul to him? Or will she let her secrets take them both down?
Sometimes the inappropriate relationship is the most appropriate of them all.
For more of Bristol Island, also check out The Fight for Us, another standalone tale of life and love in the remote northern waters of Lake Superior.
**WARNING – STRONG SEXUAL CONTENT**
She could tell it was him by nothing more than the silhouette of his body through the opaque glass of her front door. She stopped five feet from the door, pausing as a tremor ran through her. But when he reached up to knock again, she managed to get her feet moving. She pulled the door open just as his knuckles touched the wood frame surrounding the window in the door.
His hand froze in mid-air as he stared at her. “Hi,” he said quietly. His eyes slowly moved down her body, stalling over her breasts. He made no attempt to hide what he was looking at, and her nipples hardened at nothing more than the invasive way his eyes studied her.
“Did you come to parade your girlfriend around in front of me again?” she asked rudely. It was unfair, and she regretted the comment immediately.
But he ignored it and stepped into her entryway, shutting the door behind him. He walked to the dining area that sat off her open kitchen, turning around and staring at her as she followed him. “I’ve now been slapped twice in the past eight days alone, so maybe you can cut me a little slack.” And then he took a deep breath. “She’s not my girlfriend, and I didn’t invite her or want her here.”
Dylan turned to the table, saying nothing as she gripped into the side of the table with her hands. She was at once relieved and confused as hell at the same time. She stared down at her table top. “It doesn’t matter, Co.” She shook her head. “Haven’t we already established that?”
But she felt his hand on the back of her arm, and she froze. When his other hand gripped gently into her other upper arm, a rush of breath left her lungs. And then he was against her body, his chest touching her back, her bottom brushing against the front of his dress pants. But it was his breath on the side of her neck that put her over the edge, and she whimpered quietly as she felt his warm exhalation against her skin.
“I like this song,” he said quietly. “I’m pretty sure I was dancing with another woman while wishing I was dancing with you the last time I heard it.” He nuzzled against her neck, letting his whiskers brush her skin. “You looked so beautiful tonight.” She could feel his lips brushing just under her ear, and her chest shuddered as she tried to inhale. His hands trailed down the backs of her arms, gently moving over the soft sweater fabric. They settled at her elbows. “We both know this matters,” he whispered against her ear this time, just slightly higher than his mouth was the last time.
Her chest was rising and falling quickly, and her knees were shaking. But it was nothing compared to the violent trembling that took over her entire body when his hands left her arms and found her waist. She sucked in a deep breath, and his hands squeezed gently, his thumbs running along her lower back, and his fingers wrapped around to the sides of her belly.
She could see his reflection behind hers in the window on the opposite side of the table. It was dark out, and with the pendent lights over the dining room table lit up, it was nearly like seeing it all in a dimly lit mirror. She felt his lips and his nose brush along the back of her neck as he moved from one side of her head to the other. He was a good many inches taller than she was, but he was angling his head down to her neck, getting his mouth and nose against that most sensitive skin.
And when he reached the other side of her neck, he spoke again. “Does your skin tingle and prickle when I’m around like your entire body is desperate to be touched?”
That was a damn good way to explain it. She nodded.
“Do your fingers tremble, your heart race, your throat tighten up as though it’s going to suffocate you if you don’t get what you need?”
“Yes,” she whispered. It was more than a damn good explanation.
“Does the thought of losing this make your insides turn black and your soul feel like it’s shattering into a thousand pieces?”
She whimpered quietly as she nodded that time.
His hands trailed low along her hips, slowly descending. He watched her in the reflection of the window as intently as she studied him over her shoulder. His palms smoothed over the curve of her hips, taking their time. They didn’t have far to go. The hem of the short sweater dress clung to her thighs more than halfway up—the bottom hem even tighter than the marginally looser body of the dress. And when his fingers passed over the hem to her tights, he hummed quietly.
“I’ve lost track of the reactions I have to you,” he said as his fingers brushed along the hem, taunting her. “I don’t know how to stop wanting you,” he whispered, and then he let his forehead drop to the top of her shoulder. His fingers peeled the hem of her dress up higher on her thighs, stopping just under her bottom. When he pushed up under her dress, rounding the cheeks of her bottom with his palms, she moaned.
He lifted his head, watching her in the reflection again as he slipped his fingers under the top of her tights and pulled them slowly down. He swept under the top of her underwear as well, peeling them down with the tights, and soon, she could feel the cool air on her bottom. He stopped when her tights hit her mid thighs. One hand glided over her naked bottom gently before gripping hard into her butt cheek.
She let out a quiet grunt as he squeezed her skin. His free hand reached up and around her shoulder, and he clutched at her lower jaw, his fingers along one side of her face, and his thumb anchored along her opposite jawline. He turned her face toward his as he leaned over her shoulder. She was suddenly face to face with him, rather than seeing him in the darkened reflection of the window eight feet away. He was there—his breath touching her lips, his blue eyes searing into hers. She could see the stubbly hair she’d come to expect on his face, and after taking all that in, her eyes settled on his lips. He was so close, surely he was going to kiss her. But he didn’t.
“I’ve wanted to touch that soft, sweet place between your legs, really touch it, from the first moment I saw you naked.”
She gasped, and he watched her closely his nostrils flaring. There was only one time he’d ever seen her naked, and they both damn well knew when it was.
“I want to feel your wetness on my fingers. You’re hot enough to give me that right now, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question.
She nodded rigidly as his fingers still held her face in place. His other hand released its grip on her bottom.
“Bend over the table.” He let go of his hold on her chin.
She stared straight ahead again, watching him in the window once more. She focused on the music, letting her eyes close and trying to calm her nerves as she listened to the words of the song. When she opened her eyes again, he was studying her patiently in the reflection. She leaned over. She watched his hand disappear behind her body in the window, and then she felt it. His fingers ran up the back of her thigh, and then moved between her legs, slipping between the exposed lips of her sex. He delved, sliding through her wetness, and as he did his body seemed to crumple to the table beside her as he groaned.
He planted his elbow just above where her head was rested to the hard surface, and his breath came in ragged lurching moans as his fingers stroked. He didn’t push inside her, but he slipped between her lips, brushing over her clit every time.
“Look at me,” he demanded, and as she turned her head to the side, he brushed some loose strands of hair away from her face. He pushed a finger slowly into her. The penetration was agonizingly drawn out, and he watched her eyes with every inch. “You feel so hot,” he whispered, still brushing his other fingers along her hairline.
He started plunging in and out of her slowly as she gasped for air. Nothing he did exceeded the tempo of the music, and his every breath, stroke of her hair, penetration into her body followed the lulling melody. His face was so close to hers, and he watched her as he brought her close with every deep slow thrust. When he pushed a second finger in with the first, she cried out. For half a second, she thought it might be pain, but he slid easily and deeply in, stilling at her depths as her sheath trembled around him. He studied her eyes as she tried to relax. It was intense. Her legs were barely parted, and the tight set of her thighs left little room for more, but when he pulled from her, she was still ready to beg for it.
“Please,” she pleaded on a whisper.
“That’s it. Beg for it, Dylan.” His brow was flinched as though it was painful for him to watch.
“Please,” she whispered again.
His two fingers started to sink into her, slowly stretching and invading—
Rap rap rap!
She squealed, covering her mouth as the sound escaped her. His fingers stilled, and he stared at her. She turned her face to the table, resting her forehead to the hard surface and breathing against it as she tried to recover from this. The music still surrounded them, but it seemed to have faded to the background now—almost out of place after the interruption.
“Come on, Co. I know you’re in there,” Caleb hollered.
Dylan turned back to him. Cohen froze, his lips parted, and he stared at her. “Fuck,” he muttered quietly as he stood up, and he ran a hand through his hair.
“Your car is in the driveway. So stop arguing with your sweet neighbor and open the door! I’m locked out of your house!” Caleb hollered.
Dylan stood quickly, inching her underwear and tights up her legs, and as she wriggled them back into place, he reached for the hem of her dress and pulled it back down into place. He said nothing to her, and his expression was unreadable. She was still trying to remember how to breathe and think at the same time, and he shook his head subtly as she turned and walked toward the door. She felt him tug the back hem of her dress down just a bit further, and she glanced back at him.
“Hey, Dylan,” Caleb said as she pulled the door open. “He’s not being a dick again, is he?”
Cohen’s hand touched her lower back as he stepped up beside her, and his thumb ran a gentle arc down her spine.
“I’m not sure what he’s being right now,” she replied under her breath.
“Asshole’s supposed to come to L.A. over Christmas, but you say the word, Dylan, and I’ll uninvite his ass and you and I can go to Disneyland instead.”
She laughed awkwardly.
“We’re not going to Disneyland,” Cohen muttered as he stepped by her and through the door.
When he turned back, he tried to smile, but it seemed just as awkward as her pathetic laugh. They ended up staring at each other for a moment, and when she glanced down along his body, her focus caught on his hand. It was his right hand, and his thumb was running absently over his index and middle fingers that still glistened. She glanced back up to his eyes, just catching him following her line of sight to his hand. He cleared his throat awkwardly as he looked away.
Caleb stood there with a wrinkled confused brow. “Well… This is fun,” Caleb muttered. “I can’t tell what’s happening right now.”
Cohen finally rolled his eyes and glanced at Caleb.
“Jim dropped me off,” Caleb commented blandly. “Doors locked. I’m bored. Let’s go.”
Cohen followed Caleb down the steps to his SUV, but he glanced back once. His tongue was pushed into his cheek, and as he watched her for a moment, his forehead furrowed, and he shook his head again.
She walked back into her kitchen, and she rested her elbows on the counter in front of the speaker doc. She scratched her head. He’d seemed confused when he was leaving. She was pretty sure he’d instigated this … thing, so she wasn’t sure she understood his confusion. Hers? That was easy.
“What the hell just happened?” she said to Mazzy, who was still singing to her. She reached out, stopping the song, and then she stood up and reached for her abandoned glass of wine on the kitchen counter. Her cell phone rang from the dock moments later, and she snatched it up.
“He came back looking for you,” Joss’s voice hissed out quickly. “He only left to take that gal to the ferry landing and stick her on the last wind sled back to the mainland.” Joss was speed talking. “He didn’t even know she was coming. She just called as she was getting off the wind sled early this evening. But she’s gone now, and he left like thirty minutes ago.” And then silence.
“Huh…” was all Dylan said in response.
“I bet he feels bad for what happened tonight.”
“Umm…” She scrambled to find the word. “…yeah,” was what she settled on.
“Honey, I know you don’t want to see him right now, but I’d say there’s a better than good chance he might be on his way to see you. You just pull those knickers up and give him hell.”
Dylan stared down at her dress that was sitting a bit sideways on her body and perhaps slightly stretched out. She’d not managed to keep her knickers up at all. And giving him hell? Nope. That’s not quite what she gave him at all.
“Uhh… Yep. I’ll do that.” She said with mock confidence. “I’ll give him more hell than he can handle.”