**WATTPAD HQ EDITOR'S PICK Nov/Dec 2021**
BOOK ONE in the STEAMY FORBIDDEN ROMANCE series
Coralie Watson, a British thirty-year-old living in San Francisco, has a tormented past with men. Physical and mental abuse, abandonment issues, incompatibili...
Ups! Gambar ini tidak mengikuti Pedoman Konten kami. Untuk melanjutkan publikasi, hapuslah gambar ini atau unggah gambar lain.
🔥STEAMY ALERT—*slightly* steamy scene towards the end (still fairly PG-13, though)🔥
♫ They say it's wrong, but That's the way you turn me on ♪ (Ariana Grande—Bad Decisions)
She'd brought it just incase: the "if Ryan calls and asks to see me" dress. A long sleeved, off the shoulder, stopping at her mid-thighs black number she'd once bought on a whim, and never thought she'd dare wear.
She'd modeled it for Ryan during one of their calls, and he'd begged her to bring it, to wear it, to let him rip it off her. It hugged her figure, sliding down the curves of her body, and though she'd cringed when she purchased it, she liked how it made her feel sexy, desirable, noticeable.
Jayden had declared it was too short, too slinky, and something for a girl with a slimmer body.
Fuck him. Ryan loved me in it, and that's what counts.
With Delilah's stamp of approval—and after she shoved a handful of condoms into her purse—Coralie hopped into a cab.
"Scarfes, please," she said, crossing her legs and ensuring her pumps were secure on her feet and her strapless bra wasn't popping out in the back of the dress.
Scarfes was a bar she'd always wanted to visit, but never got a chance to. It was inside the Rosewood, a magnificent luxury hotel that Coralie had dreamed of staying in since she was a little girl. Ryan had insisted they meet there, as the ambiance was perfect for two old friends reuniting, for a few casual drinks to catch up, get reacquainted.
Upon pulling up to the enormous off-beige building, Coralie's jaw dropped. It was bigger and more impressive than she'd remembered, and she wondered if it was the right place.
But the driver didn't hesitate, so she paid him, gulping at the massive structure she was about to enter.
Once out of the car, she fixed the hem of her dress, shrugged a few fingers through her barely tamed curls, and adjusted the drooping sides of her sleeves. Ryan had told her to go under the arch and take a right before entering the courtyard—the bar would be at the end of a tiled pathway lined by glass doors.
She followed a few other patrons as they headed in, dressed in jeans and tennis shoes or skimpy dresses.
She hesitated; was she overdressed? Or was the dress too short, too revealing, one that would show she was trying too hard?
Delilah's words rang in her mind; her final encouragement as she kicked her out of the hotel room.
"You are beautiful and fierce, Coralie Watson. Look how far you've come and look at where you're going. You're hot, so assume it. Now go fuck that boy before he changes his mind and gets cold feet."
Only half-convinced, Coralie sucked in a deep breath, perked up, and pushed the double doors leading into the bar.
What awaited her inside was a sleek, soothing aura of dimmed lights and gentle music and glasses clinking. Velvet armchairs decorated the sides, and blue bar-stools flanked a dark wood counter where bartenders shook drinks in silver shakers.
