My Time in the Affair (30 page)

“So a year later – are you happy?” he asked her again, moving to kiss down the edge of her jaw.

“More than I've ever been in my entire life,” she whispered, combing her fingers through his hair.

“Any regrets?”

“That I didn't find you sooner.”

“Good girl, good answer.”

His tongue was back in her mouth, his fingers were pulling at her hair, and his free hand was working its way up her thigh. Misch knew it was grossly inappropriate – they were in public and were behaving like horny teenagers. But that's just how they were, and she hoped they would never change. She was still drunk on his love, high on his love, and she never wanted to come down.

Though she wasn't so drunk that she didn't notice his hand moving underneath her skirt.

“Tal,” she panted, grabbing at his wrist at the same time his fingers curled around the top of her underwear. He ignored her and began pulling at the material.

“Why you wear these is beyond me. How many pairs have you lost since you moved in with me?” he commented, tracing his tongue over her pulse. She shivered and he used the movement to his advantage, pulling her panties over her hips.

“Too many. We are in public,
stop it!
” she hissed, pressing her butt down harder against his leg, trying to hold the material in place.

“Do you think I care?”

It was too late, anyway, he'd gotten them too far. Plus, resisting him just meant his hand would stay up her skirt longer. Mischa finally let go of his wrist and he immediately dragged the underwear over her knees. She glanced around nervously, slipping her legs free.

“There, satisfied!? We're gonna get arrested one day, I swear, I -,
ACK!
” she was startled when he abruptly stood up, dumping her off of his lap. She stumbled, then panicked, scrambling to hold her short skirt in place over her ass.

“Want these back?” Tal asked, giving her a sly smile as he dangled her underwear in front of her face. She turned ten different shades of red and tried to snatch the material from him. He pulled away and her panties disappeared into his pocket.

“This isn't a game, Tal,” she used her best no-nonsense voice. He stepped up close to her, completely invading her space, pressing his chest against hers. She held her breath, lost in his gaze for a moment.

“Baby, you are the funnest game I've ever played,” he said, right before he kissed her again.

Mischa was just starting to get lost in his touch when he pulled away. Pulled away so quickly, she stumbled forward. He smacked her on the ass, hard. Hard enough that she fell into the stumble even more, tripping a few feet into the crowd.

She was glaring when she turned around, but Tal was nowhere to be seen. Usually his height alone ensured that he could be spotted in a crowd, but she didn't see his wavy hair bobbing along above everyone else. She turned in a circle, trying to figure out which way he'd gone.

“Tal?” she said his name softly at first. Then louder. Angry. “
Tal!
”

Mischa shoved her way through the crowd for a couple minutes, but the more she looked, the more obvious it was that she was alone. He'd kissed her stupid, stolen her panties, then ditched her.

How can I be in love with such an annoying man!?

Right then, her back pocket began to vibrate. She sighed and pulled her phone out, preparing herself for some sort of smart ass comment, or him laughing at how easy she was to evade, or some other stupid secret agent kind of talk.

But he wasn't calling. It was a text message. She smiled at the screen. Then laughed. Then smiled again, trying not to tear up. One year. She couldn't believe that it had been one year since she'd first come to Italy.

One year since a dirty man who kissed good had spied on her in an airport, and decided he would talk to her.

One year since she'd decided to become a horrible person and cheat on her husband.

She stared at her phone, cradling it in her hands.

Come find me.

So many people, so little end matter.

First and foremost, to the ladies in the street team. Always. You are everything.

Next – to Ella Fox. Before I ever “met” her, I read a blog post that she did, and it was about how she wrote a book thinking/knowing it wouldn't be well received, but she just had to write it anyway (it turned into a smash success). How brave. Then I joined a word count group in January of 2015, and who created it? Ella Fox. I was hitting writer's block hard, and I saw an encouraging post from her, then thought of her blog post, and I'd had this idea knocking around my head for a while (“
I can't write a cheating book, I'll be crucified, romance readers
hate
cheating!
”), so I thought - “
fuck it. Maybe everyone will hate it. But at least I wrote what was in me to write
”, and two weeks later I had 80,000 words and a rough draft titled “
An Affair
”. So, thank you, Ms. Fox, for your thoughtful words, and the way you encourage and support all those around you.

Thanks to T.M. Frazier, for her beautiful personality and wonderful support, which she gives without thought to herself. A rarity in the word in general, and in this community in particular. I appreciate you more than you know.

To my beta readers! Deeeeep breath – Angie, Sue, Shannon, Rebeka, Letty, Beatriz, Bets, Rebecca, Lheanne, Ange. Your feedback helped more than words can say. And
big
thanks to Ratula! Eight million messages later, and we have an epilogue, and a lot of fixed typos. Your effort on this story was monumental and tireless and almost equaled my own. Thank you.

To Najla at Najla Qamber Designs – you never fail to sort through my semi-insane babble and come up with magic and art. This cover is
everything
, in my humble opinion. I love it so much more than anything I could've imagined on my own. Thank you for you talent and vision and patience.

To all the authors I've met on this incredible journey, your support and words of encouragement mean more than anything. Having the approval, and even better, the friendship, of your peers means the world.

To the people I've never met but talk to all the time, Rebeka, L.A. Cotton, Barbara Shane Hoover, and especially Jo. You let me bitch, whine, complain, vent, be crazy. You keep me sane. Thank you.

To the blogs. BLOGS. ARE. EVERYTHING. This is not kissing ass, this is FACT. Blogs change lives. Thank you to Yaya and the After Dark Book Lovers, for “getting me”, and letting me be mean. Thank you to Milasy and The Rock Stars of Romance, for being bigger rock stars than any of us could hope to be. To Jessie – in case I didn't say it today, YOU'RE PRETTY. To Christine and Shh Mom's Reading, for always taking care of me during my reveals and tours and releases and just generally being the sweetest person I know. To Nina and The Literary Gossip, for your videos and posts and laughter. To ALL the Cover to Cover girls. To Deanna and her amazing reviews and graphics. To any blog that has ever posted for me, promoted for me, read for me, reviewed for me,
ever
. You made it possible for me to get this far. You make it possible for me to keep going. To any blog out there ever, that has ever supported their fave author, regardless of whether or not they've read me. Thank you for taking time out of your day to support what you love.

To any person
ever
that has shared something of mine, recommended my books, messaged me, fallen in love with the devil and Sanders, or maybe just now fell in love with Tal.
You
make it possible for me to keep doing this.

And last but most certainly not least, my husband. Writing erotica is already somewhat
interesting
for a married couple - “
I read your wife's book! WOW! I never knew you guys were so freaky!
” - so I know this book will bring its own lovely comments and assumptions. Thank you for understanding me and always letting me be me. Even when that means I wear pajamas and a headband ALL weekend. And thank you for bringing me waffles in bed.

Songs that I listened to while writing, songs that just made me think of the story,
and a couple that inspired actual scenes.

1. I Adore U – Adore Delano
   
2. Grown Woman – Beyonce
   
3. Lips Are Movin' – Meghan Trainor
   
4. Pretty Woman – Roy Orbison
   
5. Do I Wanna Know - Chvrches
   
6. Seaside – The Kooks
   
7. Love Somebody – Maroon 5
   
8. Can't Stop – Red Hot Chili Peppers
   
9. Firework – Katy Perry
   
10. Stay With Me – Sam Smith
    
11. We Found Love – Calvin Harris ft. Rihanna
    
12. Safe and Sound – Capital Cities
    
13. Paralyzed – Mystery Skullz
    
14. I Bet My Life – Imagine Dragons
    
15. Everything – Alanis Morissette
    
16. Gold – Neon Hitch ft. Tyga
    

DEGRADATION

Available Now

If you haven't met Jameson Kane yet, read below for a sneak peek …

~Prologue~

She had come over to their apartment just to drop off some boxes of stuff for her sister, Eloise -
Ellie
. Tatum had just turned eighteen and was moving to her own apartment in downtown Boston. She had been in a dorm room for her first semester at Harvard, but her parents didn't “
approve
” of her roommate, so her father had rented her an apartment off campus. When Tate's father said jump, all she was ever allowed to say was “
how high?
”, so, she was moving.

Her sister Ellie was four years older, and they had never gotten along very well. About two years ago, Ellie had started dating Jameson Kane –
Kane
, as just about everyone called him. The relationship was strange to Tate; Ellie and Jameson seemed more like acquaintances than people who slept with each other, but who was she to judge? She didn't even really like her own boyfriend.

Tate didn't really know what to make of Jameson. He was so good looking, it was probably illegal. She worried if she looked at him too long, she'd go blind. He was also
very
smart – he had graduated early from Yale with an MBA, and was taking some time off to review his job prospects. He came from old money, his father was some sort of big wig on Wall Street, and the talk was that Jameson would follow in his footsteps.

In the two years he had been dating her sister, Jameson hadn't seemed to take much notice of Tate. He ignored her, treated her with indifference. When he had to deal with her, it was almost like an after thought, like he had forgotten she existed. He was tall, and handsome, and experienced, and smart. Tate was a brainy, naive, clueless girl, fresh out of high school, no real experience with the world or worldly people. He intimidated her.

It felt weird, showing up at Ellie's apartment without her being there. Jameson had let Tate in, and then pretty much ignored her.
Such a gentleman
. Tate had to haul several heavy boxes from the parking lot to the building, and then down a long hall to their apartment, all by herself. When she got to the last box, she dropped it by their bed, huffing and puffing.

“Did you want me to help?” Jameson asked, appearing in the doorway. Tate whirled around, startled.

“No, that was the last box,” she replied, straightening out her cardigan. He always made her feel nervous. His eyes wandered over her face.

“You look really red. Want something to drink?” he asked. She felt herself turn even redder than she apparently already was; she was never prepared for his blunt manners.

“If you have any tea, that would be great,” she replied, then followed him to the kitchen. She thought he was going to pour it for her, but he just gestured to the fridge.

“I don't know what Ellie has in there, lots of health food shit. Dig around,” he offered. She made a face at his back.

“Water is fine,” she told him, then just filled a glass from the tap.

“So. New apartment, all alone in a big city. You ready?” he asked. She nodded and turned to face him. His piercing blue eyes were wandering over her face and she resisted the urge to wipe at her skin. Was she dribbling water down her chin?

“As I'll ever be, I guess. I'm pretty self-reliant, so I think I'm ready,” she replied, taking delicate sips of her drink. He chuckled.

“C'mon, you look like you're dying. Let's sit down, you can chug it,” he offered, leading her to a table. He even shocked her by pulling out a chair for her.

“Thanks,” Tate said, before following his instructions and downing the water in a few gulps. Without asking, he pulled the glass from her hands and refilled it before sitting down across from her.

“Don't you have like a boyfriend, or something? Is he in Boston?” Jameson asked, sliding her glass back across the table. She shook her head.

“No, Drew stayed in state,” she replied.

“You guys have been going out for a while – how is it, being in a long distance relationship?” he asked. She was surprised at the question. Jameson never cared about anything she did.

“We've been together three years, but I don't know how long it's gonna last. He didn't want me to go to Harvard, wanted me to just follow him to Penn State. We argued about it a lot. He wants to try to work it out, but I think it's just time to get over it. Move on. We're in college now, I don't have time for that kind of crap,” she let it all spill out. Jameson raised an eyebrow.

“Wow, very mature approach. How old are you again?” he asked. Tate rolled her eyes.

“You've known me for two years, Jameson, and you can't even remember my age?” she responded with a question. He shrugged.

“I don't think I even know Ellie's age. How old?” he pressed.

“I just turned eighteen, two weeks ago. How could you not know Ellie's age? You've been together for so long,” Tate pointed out. He shrugged again.

“I don't pay attention to things like that. So what are you going to school for?” he asked. Tate had to stop herself from pointing out,
again
, that he should already know these things – it had been discussed, many times, in front of him. She had never realized it before, but he was kind of self centered. Arrogant.

“Political science,” she said.

“We'll see how long that lasts. Go into economics, more money,” he told her. She narrowed her eyes.

“I'm not doing it for money,” she replied.

“Then you're stupid.”

“You're kind of a dick,” she blurted out, shocking herself. She wasn't prone to foul language most of the time, or being rude. She had just done both. He didn't seem bothered, though; he burst out laughing.

“You're just now realizing that?”

Tate smiled. He had a nice laugh, and a sexy smile. She could feel herself blushing. She could remember the first time Ellie had brought him home. Tate had developed a crush on him the instant she'd seen him – tall, dark hair, bright blue eyes, killer smile; what girl wouldn't fall head over heels in love with him at first sight? But it had never gone beyond that, she knew Jameson was so far out of her league, she wasn't even visible to him. She didn't waste too much time fantasizing about him.

But now, sitting across the table from him, she felt herself getting hot under her sweater.

“Well, yeah, you never talk to me,” she pointed out.

“I talk to you.”

“When?”

“Excuse me?”

“When do you talk to me? When was the last time you talked to me?” Tate asked. He thought for a second, looking up at the ceiling.

“I asked if you were okay, after your dog died,” he replied, smiling at her.

“That was
last year
,” she told him. Jameson started laughing again.

“Hey, at least I remembered,” he pointed out. She found herself laughing as well.

“I guess that's something. Doesn't matter anyway, I'll be gone – no more awkward, silent family dinners to go to, thank god. You and Ellie will be on your own,” she warned him.

“Well, you'll have to come back sometimes.”

“No,” she shook her head, “I won't. I've decided, I'm not coming back till I'm done with school, if then. I'm trying to get through a masters program in four years, or less.”

“Wow. Hell of a challenge, baby girl. You think you're up for that?” he asked. She shivered at his use of “
baby girl
”, he had never called her that before – never called her
anything
. She cleared her throat.

“I think I'm up for anything I set my mind to,” she responded. He smiled.

“Good answer. Would you like a drink? Ellie should be home any minute, we could crack something open and have it ready for her,” he suddenly asked, getting out of his chair. Tate held up her glass.

“I have water right here,” she pointed out. He laughed as he pulled a bottle out of a cupboard.

“I meant a
real
drink, Tate. Seeing as how I've apparently '
never
' talked to you, I guess now is a good time to give you some congratulations. I'm assuming I never did that, right?” he asked, holding a bottle of champagne in his hand. She laughed.

“No, you weren't even at my graduation. And maybe just one glass,” she replied, pushing the water she'd been drinking out of the way.

Having been too busy with school and all her extra classes, Tate had never been a party girl. No crazy parties and almost no experience with alcohol. Some champagne at Christmas with Granny O'Shea at the O'Shea farm in the Hamptons was about it. But she didn't want Jameson to know that – she wanted to seem mature, like a girl who had champagne all the time. It was silly, but she couldn't help it.

They polished off the first bottle, discussing politics and the current economic situation in the country. He disagreed vehemently with most of her views, but he never got heated or upset. He managed to get under her skin, though, and she found herself arguing just to get a rise out of him, but he was impossible to rile up. The champagne loosened her up a little, and she was a lot bolder with her opinions; or at least, more so than usual.

“No more after this, baby girl needs to be presentable for her family tomorrow,” Jameson said, taking out a second bottle. She made a face at him.

They drank and chatted some more. Ellie texted him that she would be late. She was a paralegal, and her hours were all over the place. Tate was fine with that, she never felt comfortable around her sister. Ellie was tall and beautiful, with dark blonde hair that was
always
done up in
just
the perfect style. She was
always
wearing
the most
stylish clothing.

Tate was average height, with dark hair, almost black, and she had never paid attention to what was stylish, just wore what her mother bought for her. She was intimidated by Ellie, plain and simple. That's why she was going into an accelerated program at Harvard – to beat Ellie. Ellie was the golden child, the favorite child. Tate had always had to work ten times harder, just to always fall slightly behind.

She wound up blabbering all that to Jameson. Then went onto tell him all about her boyfriend Drew, whom he couldn't remember ever having met, even though he had –
several times
. How boring Drew was, how he always wanted to tell her what to do, but he never wanted to do
anything
. Jameson nodded and listened to her prattle, sliding the champagne out of her reach.

“You're pretty funny, Tate. I never knew,” he chuckled. She rolled her eyes, shrugging out of her cardigan.

“
Shocking
. No one ever notices me, not when Ellie's around,” she snorted, pulling her hair into a ponytail. He raised an eyebrow.

“I wouldn't say that, Ellie's not as great as you make her out to be,” he told her.

“
Pffft.
She looks like what would happen if Cindy Crawford and Christy Turlington had a baby,” Tate pointed out.

“You're pretty, too.”

“You have to say that, you're her boyfriend. You have to be nice to me.”

“No I don't. I'm hardly ever nice, and I almost never lie. You're an attractive girl, you just have bad self esteem, and worse taste in men,” he informed her. She shrugged.

“Maybe, but that doesn't change the fact that Ellie is still better in most peoples eyes,” she replied, fiddling with the stem of her champagne glass. Jameson leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest.

“I wouldn't say that. From a technical stand point, if we're being completely honest, I would have to say that you're
much
sexier than your sister,” he told her.

She didn't breathe for a moment. Did Jameson Kane really just say that to her? Or was it the champagne? She glanced at him, and he was staring right back at her, a small smile playing on his lips. She shook her head and shook off her nerves. No. He was just being nice. That had to be it – what kind of a guy would tell his
girlfriend's sister
that she was the sexier of the two? Not a very good guy, that's for sure.

“Whatever. It'll all be behind me in a couple weeks. It'll be like a new Tate, that's what I'm going for; Ellie can suck it,” Tate proclaimed, then abruptly hiccuped. Jameson burst out laughing.

“See, now
that's
funny. Your sister sucking something – would never happen,” he joked. Tate could feel her cheeks turning bright red.

“Gross,” she blurted out.

“Too much? I guess we're not that good of buddies yet,” he sighed.

“You shouldn't talk that way about your girlfriend, it's not very nice,” Tate told him. He shrugged.

“Sometimes she's not a very nice girlfriend,” he replied. Tate's eyes got wide as she had a realization.

“Are you going to dump my sister?”