Forbidden Attraction (Forbidden Trilogy) Read online

  Forbidden Attraction

  Copyright © 2014 by S.R.Watson

  First Edition: June 2014

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, actual events or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction. The publication of these trademarks is not associated with or sponsored by the trademark owner.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without the express written permission of the author.

  Cover Art : Sarah Hansen of Okay Creations

  Editor: Marion Archer of Making Manuscripts

  Formatter: Stacey Blake

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Forbidden Attraction Playlist

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  To my mother, Clara Brown, who started it all. She put the first book in my hand and inspired my love for reading. This love evolved into a desire to write and share my own stories.

  My mother taught me about the power of inspiration and courage, and she did it with a strength and a passion that I wish could be bottled.

  ~ Carly Fiorina

  “WAKE UP, SHIV! You are going to be late for class.”

  My roommate’s high-decibel amplified warning springs me into action. Jordan Daniels, my best friend since middle school, is always the early riser, regardless of the time she goes to bed. I, on the other hand, prefer to sleep in, but I have learned not to schedule my classes late—it makes for a long day. I turn to look at my alarm clock that has yet to go off and see that it is already after seven o’clock. I have forty-five minutes to get to class. Today is the first day of my senior year—the countdown to graduation begins. I jump out of bed and run to brush my teeth. I don't have time to investigate the stupidity of my alarm clock. Thank God I took a shower last night. This is the quickest I have ever gotten ready. I throw my thick waist-length red tresses in a messy bun before putting on a pair of low-rise skinny jeans, halter top, and flip-flops. After a quick swipe of deodorant and application of lip gloss, I am ready to go. I grab my brown leather messenger bag and head towards the kitchen.

  “I put some coffee in your travel mug,” Jordan states.

  She doesn’t have her first class until nine, but she likes having plenty of time for her beautifying ritual as well as having enough time to select clothes according to her mood. Jordan is currently a journalism major.

  She chose this major to appease her parents’ wishes for a “dependable” degree, but her passion is fashion. She recently confided in me that she is planning to finish her degree since this is our last year, but then she is looking to apply to Parsons for fashion design. In the meantime, she is building her portfolio with anything fashion related such as personal design sketches and a lookbook of both fashion she has designed and purchased. Her closet is an explosion of various designers, which comes in handy when I need that special something to wear, despite our height difference. In my opinion, I think she could model on the runway rather than create fashion and I have told her as much. She is not interested in modeling though. She doesn’t think her look is unique enough. Her natural blonde hair and blue eyes are the epitome of natural beauty, yet she is not conceited.

  “You are the best. I hope Liam saved me a seat,” I reply. "We have marketing together this morning.”

  Liam Wilkins and I have been together since our junior year of high school. He is a business major like me, but is here at the University of Southern California on scholarship to play quarterback. Jordan and I had applied for several colleges together, opting for those that were looking to recruit him. We are from Houston, Texas so the chance to move to Los Angeles was both liberating and scary.

  I had never been that far from home, but had looked forward to the independence the distance would provide. Jordan's family was very supportive of the move and gives her anything she wants. She has an older brother named Roman, but she is their baby girl who they love to spoil. It is because of them that we have been able to live in a condo off campus this past year. Her parents are like my surrogate family. They refuse to accept any payments toward the condo and are just happy that Jordan and I are living together. My parents send me money monthly to help with other living expenses so I only have to consider tuition and fees, which are covered by my academic scholarship. Jordan wanted to live in the dorms for our first two years of college, even though we were only required to stay on campus for our freshman year. She wanted to indulge in the experience of campus life, but last June, we finally took the plunge into total independence. Liam lives in the Tau Kappa Epsilon house with his fraternity brothers, but spends most nights with me.

  AS I WALK into class, I immediately see Liam sitting toward the front of the class and he has a seat reserved next to him. He gives me a half smile as I sit down. I can sense his apprehension and I wonder what is bothering him. He has been like this for the past two weeks.

  I have asked him about it, but he just keeps putting it off on the stress of football. I am starting to worry, but I am pulled from my thoughts when our professor walks in. Holy cow. We have hit the professor lotto. I have never seen a professor who looks like he could be a GQ model.

  He has inky black hair that is tapered on the sides and longer on top that makes you want to run your fingers through it. My eyes peruse the rest of him and I am equally impressed: piercing cerulean blue eyes, chiseled facial features, a five o’clock shadow hinting rugged but manly, lean body, muscular broad shoulders, and narrow hips. To add to his perfection, he is wearing a crisp white button down shirt that provides a subtle hint of his ripped abs, a purple tie, and black tailored slacks that hang delectably low on his hips while showcasing his powerful quadriceps. His clothes look to be above his pay grade. He looks more like a CEO than a professor. When he opens his mouth to introduce himself as Professor Michaels to the class, I am done. The timber of his voice is low with a hint of rasp that sends tingles through my body.

  As I look around the room, I see the female population of the class sit a little straighter in their seats to get a better look at our captivating professor. Some of the men roll their eyes at the blatant attention he is getting. I suspect they are jealous. Liam briefly looks for my reaction and I immediately feel guilty. I have been caught ogling our professor, but I would have to be dead not to notice how sinfully gorgeous he is. It is just an observation. Professor Michaels goes through the syllabus to discuss expectations, due dates, and answer questions. He then introduces his teacher’s assistant as Donovan Whitmore. He is tall, lanky, and nerdy looking. He gives a confident wave to the class and I like him immediately. Some TAs try too hard by acting as though they are the professor themselves, but I don’t get that vibe from him. He begins by giving us information on his background and ends with telling us about his role in the class.

  As
class comes to end, Liam jumps up, kisses me on the forehead, tells me he needs to see his coach, and he wants to talk to me later. We agree to meet at the Starbucks on campus at six o’clock. I gather my books to put back in my messenger bag and look up to see Professor Michaels surrounded by three female students who apparently couldn't ask all their questions during class. I roll my eyes before they meet his. His lips are curved slightly upward as if he just read my thoughts. I give him a slight smile and head out of the door.

  THE DAY PASSES by in a blur. I attend two more classes, economics and accounting, before heading to Starbucks to meet Liam. I get there before he does so I order us his favorite—grande chai tea latte with whip cream. Just as I find us a seat in the back, he walks in. He looks even more stressed if that's possible. He takes a seat across from me and I can see that his eyes are glistening.

  "Liam, what is going on?" I ask while taking a sip of my tea. "And don't tell me it’s football."

  "I slept with someone else," he blurts out. "I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

  I’m speechless and my stomach feels like the bottom has just dropped out. Tears spill down my face as my mind struggles with every emotion from anger to hurt.

  "I am so sorry, Shiv. I don't want to hurt you, but I think we need to see other people," he says. “This is our last year before graduation and we need to see if our love is meant to be. I love you, but I want the full college experience."

  "How can you say you love me and do this to me? I followed you here so we could be together," I scream. "Now you want to throw it all away?”

  "You mean a lot to me, Shiv, I’m just not ready to settle down. If we are meant to be, we will be again later."

  He skipped right over the acknowledgment that I came to this school for him. “You’re delusional. I’ll never forgive you for this. Have fun with your sluts that are looking at you as a future paycheck because what we had is over. I will not be like her!"

  "Babe, please. Calm down. People are staring."

  "Fuck off, Liam. I don't give two shits about these people."

  Liam's eyes are as wide as saucers at this point. I rarely curse—not out loud anyway. My private thoughts don’t count. My use of profanities is a testament to how angry I am and he knows he has just put himself in the same category as my father.

  "I will not be like her," I whisper this time. My throat feels like I have swallowed acid. Liam understands my meaning and does not push me further.

  I rush through the crowd, tears dripping nonstop. I know everyone has just gotten a show, but at this moment I don't care. I gave him five years of my life and he just discarded my love like yesterday's trash. He has crushed me.

  I’m thankful that my old Toyota Camry does not give me any trouble today. I make it back to my condo in record time. As I place the key in the door, it swings open widely. A petite brunette stands in the door with a smile on her face.

  "Hi, I’m Bailey Nichols," she says. "You must be Jordan's roommate Siobhan.

  "Yes, just call me Shiv,” I say simply. I’m not in the mood for pleasantries or conversation. I just want to head to my room so I can finish crying my heart out. "Nice to meet you.”

  “Okay Shiv. It’s nice meeting you too. Hope to see you Saturday. Jordan will give you the details," she says before continuing out the door.

  I answer with a quick nod and rush to my room before I have to explain my tears to Jordan. I need some time to myself. As I throw myself across my bed, there is a soft knock on my door. Jordan doesn't wait for me to answer before barging in. So much for having some time to myself.

  "Liam called me. I am so sorry, Shiv. I can't believe he’s done this to you."

  "What exactly did you he tell you?" I ask while sobbing.

  "He just told me you guys broke up and I needed to be here for you when you came home."

  "Oh how considerate. He broke up with me, Jordan, and he slept with someone else."

  She is outraged as I continue to divulge the events leading to the breakup, including how he has been moody and apprehensive for the last two weeks. She rants for twenty minutes about Liam’s philandering behavior and her plan to castrate him to inhibit his hormonal urges.

  I can always count on her to make me feel better. I tell her about my hot professor to lighten the mood.

  "At least you’ll have a distraction when you have a class with him," she says jokingly.

  "What are you talking about?" I sniffle.

  "Just focus on your hot professor."

  I roll my eyes and laugh. "I think the professor will have more than enough unsolicited focus on him," I retort. "Now tell me about Bailey and what she meant, hoping to see me on Saturday."

  Jordan explains she and Bailey share the same major. They’ve had a few classes together the past two years and even more this semester. Saturday, a couple of their fellow classmates are getting together to hang out at Bailey's house. She lives with her parents, but they are currently out of the country so she’ll have the house to herself. Jordan feels this will be a great opportunity for me to get drunk and forget about Liam. We'll see. She knows that I don't drink often—and never to get drunk, but this ordeal may be an exception.

  I DRAG MYSELF out of bed, hating that it’s already Wednesday. I’ll have to face Liam again in class. Yesterday, I attended my morning class, business law, and then stayed sequestered in my room for the rest of the day. I did not even come out to eat.

  Jordan brought dinner to me because I refused to get out of bed. She said she was going to allow me one more day to mourn the loss of my relationship with Liam and then I needed to move on. Yeah right. Being forced to see him two days a week is going to kill me. I go through the motion of getting ready for class, grab a cup of coffee, and head out the door.

  My plan is to get to class early so there is plenty of seating to choose from. I can’t sit next to Liam and pretend everything is okay. I realize this plan is in jeopardy when I see him walk into class just ahead of me. Will he follow me wherever I sit in order to smooth things over? He must sense my presence behind him because he glances over his shoulder and our eyes connect. He gives me a slight chin lift of acknowledgement before wrapping his arms around the shoulders of some big bosomed blonde walking next to him. I hadn’t noticed her until now. I wonder if she is the bimbo he slept with. Insensitive bastard. This arrogant jackass is not who I gave my heart to. I don’t even recognize this version of him.

  He walks right past the row we sat in last class period and heads to the back of the room with the blonde still at his side. They take a seat in the last row—no doubt to do inappropriate things during class. She’s all over him. God, I hate him right now. I can’t believe I didn’t know he was capable of such coldness. Deciding that I have had enough of this visual torture, I turn away quickly, managing only to run right into Professor Michaels, successfully knocking all his papers out of his hand. I am mortified. I drop to my knees in an effort to help him pick up the mess I’ve created.

  My chest is heaving and I am straining to hold back my tears. The professor leans down next to me and I can feel his breath next to my cheek.

  "Don't you dare let him see you cry. He’s not worth your tears," he commands.

  "Yes sir," is all I can muster.

  The professor gives me a sympathetic smile and I’m taken back by his forwardness. Then it dawns on me that he’s aware of my breakup. He obviously sees the new accessory attached to Liam’s hip. The tart is making sure everyone notices she is with him. Now I’m even more mortified. For the rest of the class period, I try to focus on the lecture and not the disregard Liam is showing for me in the back of the class. The professor makes eye contact with me periodically to ensure I’m following through. As soon as class is over, I race out the door without making eye contact with anyone.

  THE REST OF the week passes with me just going through the motions. The pain has yet to subside. Liam was a major part of my life. Without him, I feel like a piece of me is missing. We initially bond
ed over the fact that his parents were divorced like mine. His mother treats me like the daughter she’s never had for God’s sake. Now I’m going to lose that relationship too. I want to call Ms. Shelley, but it would be wrong to expect her to choose sides. No, a clean break is the only way. This saddens me even more. I can’t fathom calling my own mother right now. She has instilled in me from a young age that love is volatile. She was never a fan of me giving myself wholeheartedly to Liam. “I told you so” is not what I want to hear right now.

  I had planned on staying home tonight and watching reality TV. The pseudo drama gives me a temporary escape into someone else’s life and away from mine. Jordan has another idea though and has convinced me to join her for dinner at an Italian restaurant downtown. She knows Italian is my favorite and it’s her way of cheering me up. After getting dressed in an olive green sheath dress and black peep toe heels, we head to the restaurant in her white Mercedes SLK350. It’s a sleek, sporty, two-seat roadster convertible. I love my used Toyota Camry, but I can’t say that I don’t drool every time I get a chance to drive her car. It was a high school graduation present from her parents.

  “I have heard so much about the Palm Restaurant and have been dying to try their food.”

  “I hope it’s not super expensive,” I murmur. “And before you say it, I want to pay my own way.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Shiv. I wouldn’t invite you to some expensive place and then expect you to pay. It’s not that expensive anyway.” She frowns at my stubbornness. “Please just let this be my treat.”

  I concede only because I know she is trying to make feel better about the whole Liam fiasco. For the rest of the ride we sing along with the various tunes streaming from her Sirius XM satellite radio.