I gasp out his name as he enters me a few more times and collapses into my back as we both find release, our sweaty bodies barely able to breathe as we fall to our sides and spoon on the small couch.
His lips press against the crook of my neck as he lets out a heavy sigh. “I’m looking forward to a lot more of that.”
I giggle. “I bet you are.”
“Merry Christmas, Addy.”
About the Author
B. Celeste’s obsession with all things forbidden and taboo enabled her to pave a path into a new world of raw, real, emotional romance.
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Her debut novel is The Truth about Heartbreak.
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Check out her website: www.authorbceleste.com
Also by B. Celeste:
The Truth about Heartbreak
The Truth about Tomorrow
The Truth about Us
Underneath the Sycamore Tree
Where the Little Birds Go
Where the Little Birds Are
Into the Clear Water
Color Me Pretty
Tell Me When It’s Over
Tell Me Why It’s Wrong
Dare You to Hate Me
Bittersweet Revenge
BY CATHARINA MAURA
“Bittersweet Revenge”
An age gap romance
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When her boyfriend breaks her heart, Alanna goes after his older brother in a quest for revenge.
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It would’ve been simple… if he wasn’t also her soon-to-be boss.
Chapter 1
Alanna
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“He’s here again,” Savannah says, a dreamy expression in her eyes. She sighs happily as she leans over the counter, her head propped up on her elbow. I follow her gaze curiously, finding a handsome stranger seated in the corner of the coffee shop. He looks like he’s far too big for the small chair, yet it doesn’t seem to bother him. He’s got his laptop in front of him, his gaze intense.
He looks up, and my heart does this funny thing, almost as though it skips. His eyes are the darkest green I’ve ever seen. They’re the color of expensive emeralds. Everything about this man screams luxury. He’s got cheekbones straight out of a magazine, and that hair… I bet it’d feel amazing to run your hair through that. He smiles at me, and I tense as I force a polite smile before dragging my eyes away.
“He’s been watching you ever since you started your shift,” Savannah says, a crestfallen expression on her face. “He’s been sitting there for hours, pretending like he isn’t watching you, when you’re so obviously all he can see. I should know. I’ve tried catching his attention more times than I can count.”
I glance back at him, surprised. He looks unattainable. It’s not just the obviously expensive suit, or the way he sits at that tiny table with his laptop that probably costs more than I spend on rent every month. It isn’t even his ridiculously good looks, that dark hair or those cheekbones. It’s something else. Something I can’t quite pin down.
Men like that don’t pay attention to girls like me.
“I have a boyfriend, remember?” I murmur as I finish making a mocha for one of our other regulars. Oat milk. Extra shot of caramel. She orders the exact same thing every single day, and there’s a strange sense of comfort in that. “Here you go, Michelle,” I tell her as I hand her the mug.
Savannah smiles and tilts her head as she stares at me, a curious look in her eyes. “I never understood why you would date Ryan. Is it the money?”
I tense involuntarily and clench my jaw, swallowing down the insult. I can’t blame her for thinking it. At least she isn’t gossiping behind my back like everyone else is. Ryan is filthy rich, and I’m just a nobody. It’s no surprise to me that everyone around us thinks I’m a gold digger, but it doesn’t ever hurt any less.
“No, of course not. I know he’s a bit… rough around the edges, but when he’s with me he’s wonderful. He treats me well, and he’s kind.”
She stares at me as though she’s trying to figure me out, and it immediately has me feeling defensive. “He’s a good man,” I tell her, keeping my voice cheerful.
Ryan is different. He keeps people at a distance and uses his wealth as a shield. But underneath that? Underneath the extravagance and the occasional obnoxiousness, he’s a genuinely good person. He comes help at the soup kitchen I volunteer at every once in a while, and just last week we spent a day collecting plastic on the beach. It was a perfect day — he was perfect that day. I just wish others could see it too. I wish they could see the version I see, and not the one he insists on showing the world.
My shoulders slump in relief when four girls walk in, chatting and laughing about their latest book boyfriend. I smile as I grab cups for them, writing their names before they even reach the counter. Nicole, Sara, Gladys and Megan always order the exact same thing. They sit and chat for hours, each of them trying to lay claim on the main character of whatever book they just read. Just seeing them brings a smile to my face. The friendship they share warms my heart, but it’s their kindness that always brings a smile to my face.
“You have to read this, Alanna,” Nicole says, holding up a paperback that looks pristine. I’ve never dared accept one of her books because it’s obvious she handles them reverently. I wouldn’t even be surprised if they’re all signed.
I’m too clumsy. I’d spill coffee on her book and she’d hate me forever. I smile at her as I decline her offer. Her smile drops just a fraction, but it’s back in place as soon as I hand her her coffee. I have no doubt these girls have made it their personal mission to get me to read one of their books, and by the determined look in their eyes, I know I’m destined to cave someday.
I tense when the green-eyed stranger rises from his seat. I can feel his eyes on me, and a shiver runs down my spine. He makes me nervous, and it’s rare for anyone to have that effect on me.
His eyes never leave me as he walks up to me. By the time he reaches the counter, my heart is racing, and it unsettles me. Something about him leaves me feeling thrown.
“Alanna,” he says, his voice deep as he draws out my name. He smiles at me, and I tense. Most people are so absorbed in their thoughts and their own day as they order a coffee, that they don’t even look me in the eye. His intensity is unsettling.
“Could I ask you to make me a long black, please? To go, please.”
I smile involuntarily. There’s something so sexy about politeness, especially coming from a man like that — someone whose cufflinks could likely pay for a month’s worth of groceries.
“Of course.” I smile at him as I grab a cup, and for a second, our eyes lock. “What’s your name?” I ask, my voice soft.
He hesitates for a split second before speaking. “Simon.”