The Fight for Us & Inappropriate
Bristol Island Tales
By Elizabeth Finn
Genre: Contemporary
Erotic Romance
Hosted By: DRC
Promotions
The Fight for Us
When Isaiah moves his teenage daughter Natalie to a new town, there is little doubt he’s running away from the past. But what should have been a fresh start for them ends up fraught with pain and heartache when Natalie becomes the victim of intense bullying at her new school.
When Joss is called to a meeting with the high school principal to discuss her daughter Harper’s involvement in the bullying of a new student, she’s shocked to say the least. Her daughter can’t possibly be that child.
It’s a rocky start for Joss and Isaiah as they try to set their daughters on the right path. But there is more to Joss’s and Isaiah’s connection than just two teenage girls. Joss’s and Isaiah’s attraction to one another is undeniable, regardless of their fractious start. But his soul is broken, and as much as he’s drawn to her, he’s equally terrified of what that means.
Is Isaiah strong enough to let her get close to him?
Life sometimes forces you to make those choices whether you’re ready to or not. And when Joss’s life is turned upside down, Isaiah has to decide if he’s ready to leave his past behind and live again, or if he’s going to watch what he’s come to care so much for slip away. Isaiah’s fight is profound. Joss’s is too. And their strength to withstand it all is brutally tested.
Sometimes the willingness to fight for another is all a person has left to give. And sometimes the fight is the most important gift of all.
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Excerpt
Isaiah was watching Joss as she
pulled up in the driveway of house one—or house eight really since she’d
flipped their original list on its head. Her heart was racing as she pulled
into the driveway, and his focus followed her from his place in his car at the
curb. When she stepped from her car, he did the same. She couldn’t tell at all
what kind of mood he was in. She’d shot off a text message less than an hour
before asking him to meet her there rather than driving together from the
office. Errands, she’d said. She was full of shit. She didn’t have a single
errand to run. She was simply terrified and having a panic attack. It was odd
that he had such an effect on her given they’d never done anything even
noteworthy to suggest such a connection. He’d not asked her out, not kissed
her, nothing at all that could explain why exactly she felt like shit since
he’d been honest with her nearly a month before.
He’d been a rush to her system since
the day they’d squared off with one another in the principal’s office, and now,
life was back to the same old hum-drum boring bullshit—aside from the fleeting
moments when she got to see him. But then she was such a spaz she couldn’t seem
to act normal to save her life.
“Hi.” It was the same polite and
safe greeting she’d been giving him for a while now, and she hated the sound of
her voice when she said it.
“Thought you had errands to run.” He
studied her, refusing to look away.
“I did.” She forced herself to stare
right back at him.
“Why do people always think they can
sell a lie by holding eye contact?” He said nothing else for a moment. “I only
just pulled up, and I drove by your office on the way. I’m well aware you were
there.” He watched her, but he didn’t give her a chance to respond before he
turned and headed toward the door. “Shall we?”
She let him in the house, but once
they made it to the kitchen, she stopped. “I’m sorry I lied.” She owed him that
much at least, and since he was a walking lie detector, there was no sense
denying it.
“Relax. I expected you would.” He
winked at her before he walked away to the living room.
She followed him, wandering around
the room. She’d been so terrified about this meeting that she’d made a trip to
a small boutique the afternoon prior just to buy a new shirt. Sadly, it likely
wasn’t worth the money she’d thrown down, but after spending an hour on her
closet floor nearly comatose from the exhaustion of trying on twelve lackluster
ensembles she already owned, she decided it was worth whatever the price might be.
The skirt was the same as she’d worn on their previous
house-hunting-mission-gone-bad, and as she shrugged out of her black pea coat
and left it on the kitchen island, his gaze trailed slowly over her, studying
her new billowy satin shirt.
The material was cold against her
skin. It was every shade of gray, black, and white imaginable, swirled into a
rather antique looking paisley pattern, but it was doing little to keep her
warm in the rather cool house. She’d paired the outfit with her black boots that
came nearly to her knees. They had a heel, and every step she took clicked and
echoed off the cavernous empty walls and floor. It was only after she stopped,
crossing her arms on her chest and returning his stare that he actually gave up
his attention on her and started looking around. Odd, she’d worn the new shirt
to attract his attention, and yet, when he’d given it to her, she’d instantly
cooled and glared at him. Was this going to be her vengeance? Some pathetic
immature power struggle?
His eyes kept shifting to her as he
looked around. The living room was a decent size, and it had a beautiful stone
fireplace that extended up to the vaulted ceilings above, but even that failed
to capture his attention for longer than a second.
The house was a large two-story
structure with four upstairs bedrooms, one of which was an impressive master
suite that overlooked the water. Within minutes, he wandered off as she
remained in the living room twiddling her thumbs and trying to calm the tremor
in her hands. But ten minutes later, when she did catch up to him, she found
him staring out the windows of the master bedroom upstairs.
“You know, you must be going for
distraction gold wearing that skirt again today.” His voice had the warm
seductive edge that instantly flushed her skin. “Can’t guarantee I’m going to
be paying attention today any better than the first time.” He’d not bothered to
turn to her as he spoke, but in the silence now, he slowly did round toward
her, watching quietly and intently as he always did with his searing hazel
green eyes.
“I chose my outfit unwisely, did I?”
His lips pulled up. And she forced a
casual smirk even as her heart raced.
“No. You chose very wisely. You look
beautiful. You always do.” He didn’t stop his attention from drifting down her
figure. His face looked relaxed, and the tension was gone, but as she watched,
he swallowed and his brow furrowed. “I don’t like the way things are with us.”
“Well, there it is—the truth as told
by the one who made it so.” She instantly regretted saying it, as happened
often to Joss.
His expression suddenly cooled, and
his nostrils flared as he breathed. “Tell me, did you try to push me off on
Randall?” He was back to smirking, seemingly having stowed whatever irritation
may have been creeping in.
“Maybe.”
“I thought as much.”
She laughed quietly. He looked
almost playful as he studied her ruefully. She could feel the warmth in her
cheeks as she flushed.
“We should probably head to the next
house.” But when she turned to leave, he quickly grabbed her elbow, spinning
her to face the large windows that looked out to the shore in the distance.
She didn’t turn toward him, though.
She just stilled in place, and before she could register his movements, she
felt him closing in behind her body, letting his hand fall to her hip and
pulling her into him. She started panting then. Her bottom was held snug to his
groin, and she could feel the hardness of his arousal against her lower back.
His lips tickled her earlobe as he leaned to her ear.
“I didn’t want you to leave that
night.”
She whimpered as she felt the
feather light movement of his lips against that most sensitive skin.
“I wasn’t asking you to. I
understand why you did, but it wasn’t what I wanted.” His free hand gripped her
other hip, and he held her tight to him, leaving not an ounce of space between
their bodies. “I want you.”
She stopped breathing then, and he
stilled, waiting behind her. She could feel his heart pounding against her
back.
“Isaiah.” Her voice quivered as she
whispered it out, and then he spun her again where she stood and pushed her to
the window that was now behind her.
His hands gripped her cheeks, and
his mouth closed in on hers, but he stopped short, leaving her breathless
against his lips that were mere inches from hers. His eyes bore into her, and
all she could manage to do was grip the sides of his waist, feeling his muscles
tighten as she squeezed.
When his forehead sank to hers, she
sighed and his grip on her cheeks loosened. Her face was flushing and warm, and
coupled with the cool glass that touched and chilled the back of her body, her
insides were left not having a clue what to feel at all. She was flushing, she
was chilling, she was shivering and sweating all at once.
“Fuck, Joss. Why is this so hard?”
His tone was desperate, and he shook his head as his thumb brushed gently over
her cheek.
“It’s okay.” It didn’t feel okay at
all. It felt like he was two seconds from rejecting her again. She should be
thankful for the rejection, but she wasn’t—not at all. “I know you’re not ready
for this.”
She pulled away then, trying to
skirt around him, assuming there was little more to say, but he pulled back.
His hands held her by the cheeks
again, and he watched her. “Shut up.” His words were murmured so close to her
lips that she could feel his lips brush softly against hers as he spoke. And
then he was silent. He let his mouth linger and touch hers without kissing her,
and she waited. Whatever this hurdle was he was standing at, she couldn’t be
the one to make him move past it.
When his lips parted against hers,
she started to melt into him and whimper at the same time. The first kiss was
gentle and slow, but before it even ended, he was pulling her lower lip between
his. The smack was quiet and sweet, and then he was sucking on her top lip. His
mouth was incredibly warm, and when his lips parted again, she felt that warmth
push between her lips along with his tongue.
She could do nothing at all but grip
the sides of his waist, her nails digging in harder and harder the farther his
tongue delved and licked. She pulled him toward her as he held her firmly
against the window. His hips met her body, and she felt his need hard against
her stomach, demanding more, regardless of how much he’d fought against this.
“Fuck.” She murmured it between his
tongue leaving her mouth and hers entering his.
He groaned, and then she was running
her tongue along his as his groan loudened and the pressure of his body against
the front of hers intensified. That cool hard surface behind her began to cover
more and more of her backside as he pushed her harder into it, and then his
hands were gripping her. As one ran down the front of her throat, their mouths
continued to pull, lick, suck, and bite at each other’s lips. He slipped his
hand easily past the loose billowy satin that sat along the low neckline, and
then his fingers slid under the top of her bra, brushing quickly down over the
hardened peak of her nipple. She cried out as his fingertips grazed the over
sensitized and tight bud, and the moan he returned vibrated past her lips and
down her throat.
When the door downstairs suddenly
slammed shut, they both gasped, sucking the breath from one another’s mouths
and pulling apart in unison. She was panting, taking lurching shuttering gasps
as she tried to focus on what was happening. It was the most confusing moment
in her life, trying to shift from the complete and utter sexual frenzy of what
they’d been doing back to the real world, real life, and real slamming doors in
one second flat.
“Joss!” Randall’s voice trailed up
to them from the main level.
“Fuck.” She tried to talk through
her panting breaths.
Isaiah pulled his hands from her
body, letting his still groping fingertips gently brush across her nipple one
last time. She gasped again, and he calmly watched her face. His rapid
breathing and equally fast blinking said what his still body and expressionless
face didn’t. He was freaking the fuck out just as much as she was.
“Randall?” His head cocked to the
side as he questioned her.
She did nothing but nod in response,
still struggling to breathe enough to talk.
“I think I hate him already,” Isaiah
muttered as he turned from her, clearing his throat and waiting for her to lead
him back downstairs.
She was as silent as he was as she
led the way, and she forced herself to release a deep breath as she stepped off
the last stair to the foyer floor. They found Randall in the kitchen peering
into her purse without touching it. He was a snoop, and if it wasn’t her tits
he was infringing on it, she couldn’t say she was surprised to see it would be
her personal possessions.
“What are you doing, Randall?” Her
voice was finally working again, and as she glared at him, he slowly turned
around with a broad smile on his face.
“Ah, Joselyn. Good of you to show my
listing for me.”
She sneered in response.
His eyes zoned in on her tits as he
started to talk. “On my way to pick up a client—” he enunciated it strangely
for some odd reason “—and I thought I’d swing by. I have an open house here
this weekend. Just wanted to make sure everything was in order seeing as the
owners are in Florida for the winter. Didn’t expect to see you—”
Isaiah’s snapping fingers over her
right shoulder cut Randall off and made her jump. When Randall’s focus quickly
pulled up at the sound, Isaiah spoke.
“What part of her are you surprised
to see? Because you can’t seem to find anything but her chest.”
Randall laughed nervously but played
off Isaiah’s comment as a joke. When Isaiah stepped up beside her, his arms
were crossed on his chest and he was glaring. If Randall really thought there
was anything about Isaiah’s demeanor that was joking, then he’d lost his damn
mind.
“Have we met?” Randall was suddenly
all charm, smiling ear to ear as he held his hand out to Isaiah.
Isaiah glanced to his outstretched
hand before ignoring it and coolly looking back to the man’s eyes. When Isaiah
reached past Randall to snatch her purse and coat from the kitchen island, he
spoke over his shoulder to her. “We should go. This house is overpriced.” It
was, frankly.
“This house has some amazing
features. I’m guessing Joselyn just didn’t point them out—”
“Shut up,” Isaiah muttered as his
attention returned to her.
She could feel her eyes bulging.
Isaiah reached to her chin, pushing it up to close her mouth, and smirked. Of
course, Isaiah was blocking Randall’s view of her, so the man missed her shock.
He helped her into her coat and
handed her purse to her as well. Randall remained quiet the entire time, and
they spoke not a word to the man as they turned and left the house. But the
moment the front door was closed, Isaiah spat out, “Prick,” on an irritated
sigh.
She followed him, but when he
suddenly stopped and rounded on her, she nearly walked into his chest.
“The man is aware you have a face,
right?”
She balked. “You’re one to talk.” It
slipped out. She’d not forgotten the trouble he had the first time she’d shown
him homes.
He glanced slowly to her chest, not
hiding the attention at all, before letting his gaze slowly move back up to her
eyes. “Oh, no. I’m well aware you have a face—quite a lovely one, in fact. Lips
too, warm ones.” He stepped toward her, looking down at her. “And an
exceptionally delicious tongue.” He inhaled slowly.
She stared in a stupor at him. “You
kissed me.”
His suddenly rapidly blinking eyes
and creased forehead said he wasn’t expecting that response. Hell, she wasn’t
either. It was literally the only thing that had popped in her head, and
naturally, she’d said it.
He shook his head, chuckling for a
moment. “Yes. I’m aware.” And then as he reached for her mouth, running his
thumb along her lower lip, he continued. “Might have gotten a little carried
away given how swollen and pink your lips are.” His thumb lingered as his eyes
followed the path his thumb ran, and then he cleared his throat as he pulled
back.
Inappropriate
Cohen is a man apart on Bristol Island—an outcast loved by all but separated by his position within the community. Dylan is the newest resident in town, but she arrives with a dark secret and a desire to keep it buried.
But when burning attraction is thrown into the mix, his job and her secrets are quickly forgotten—that is until one impetuous decision renders a relationship off-limits, unethical, and utterly inappropriate.
Living next door to one another on the island’s isolated peninsula guarantees their paths will cross time and time again. With fate tempting Cohen to ignore his conscience and, for the first time in his life, gamble with the rules, will he risk everything for Dylan?
And what happens when Dylan’s past suddenly catches up to her? Will she find the strength to bare her soul to him? Or will she let her secrets take them both down?
Sometimes the inappropriate relationship is the most appropriate of them all.
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Meet the Author
Connect with Elizabeth Finn
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