Forbidden Fruit

Prologue

Her icy fingers brushed the small of my back alerting me to her presence. "You weren't planning to finish that on your own, were you?" Her voice was a whisper, warm breath rippling through my hair and grazing the goosebumps on my neck. Her hand slid around my waist, placing her empty wine glass beside mine on the marble countertop. The soft clink echoed in the stillness of the kitchen, punctuating the tension between us. Her lips hovered just inches from my neck, waiting eagerly for my response.

I drew in a deep breath and slowly turned to face her. The cold marble replaced the sensation of her touch, but the longing it left behind was irreplaceable. Nothing could ever compare to the feel of her skin on mine.

"No, I was just about to grab your glass, actually," I lied, my voice barely steady as her deep brown eyes locked onto mine. My gaze drifted to her lips, where a devilish smirk played at the corners. I tried to bite the inside of my cheek to stifle a smile, but it was no use. "Promise..." I giggled, the sound escaping before I could stop it.

"Is that so?" she murmured, her voice low and teasing. She moved closer, her arms encircled me as her hands grasped the marble behind me. Trapped between her and the unyielding counter, I should have felt a flicker of fear, but instead, all I felt was the deep, undeniable certainty that there was nowhere else I wanted to be.

"Yes, like I said, I promise." I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. She tilted her head slightly, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. The hunger in her eyes had deepened.

"You know, Camden," she began, her voice a silky threat, "you've made quite a few promises lately. I'm starting to wonder which ones are real." The words were soft, but they cut deep, each one laced with a challenge.

"And you know I hate it when you use my full name, Bethany," I countered, rolling my eyes with a playful defiance. But she wasn't wrong. I had made a lot of promises — some to keep, others just to make her happy. Yet instinctively, I knew she wasn't looking for an answer. Her question hung in the air, a mere prelude to something more.

My heart raced, each beat echoing the desperate need rising within me. The pull toward her was irresistible, a magnetic force drawing me in. Before I could think, I closed the distance between us, our lips colliding in a kiss that felt like a surrender.

Her fingers threaded through my hair, her hand finding its place at the nape of my neck. She tilted my head gently, breaking the kiss to trail her lips down to my neck. The sensation made me gasp, pleasure radiating from every point of contact.

I pressed closer, craving more, needing to feel her against me, but instead, I was met with the softness of a duvet. My eyes flew open, but Beth was gone. The room was silent, and the only evidence that she was ever here was the frantic beating of my heart.

"It was all a dream." I sighed. A dream so vivid it left me reeling. The weight of her absence settled heavily in my chest.

"Are you alright, babe?" A deep voice called from beside me. My husband, Dylan, reached his hand out to rest on my thigh. His calloused thumb rubbed gently across my skin and the juxtaposition could not have been more clear. His touch may be warm and soothing, but it does not ignite the same fire within me that Beth's does.