Forbidden Lyrics (Wrecked Roommates), page 1
Forbidden Lyrics
A wrecked roommates novel
Kelsie Rae
Twisty Pines Publishing, LLC
Copyright © 2021 by Kelsie Rae
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. The reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.
Cover Art by Cover My Wagon Dragon Art
Editing by Wickedcoolflight Editing Services
Proofreading by Stephanie Taylor
Published by Twisty Pines Publishing, LLC
June 2021 Edition
Published in the United States of America
Contents
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
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Epilogue
Dear Reader
About the Author
Also by Kelsie Rae
Chapter One
Dove
A bead of sweat clings to my brow as I reach across the table and wipe it down with the damp rag. When something grazes my bum, I jerk upright, my spine a steel rod, before twisting around.
“Can I help you?” I squeak, unsure whether or not the creepy stranger hears me over the speakers. SeaBird, the bar where I work, isn’t exactly the place you go to have a quiet chat, especially when Broken Vows is on stage. I don’t recognize the song echoing through the room, though, so they must be taking a break.
“Fender,” the stranger returns. “Is he here?”
I peek around the guy’s giant body in search of the band’s lead singer but find the stage empty. I shake my head. “I, uh, I’m not sure. Sorry. Can I get you something to drink?”
And will you stop staring at me like that?
“Only if you’re on the menu.” His mouth quirks up on one side as he scans me up and down, making my skin crawl.
“You’re new,” he notes.
“I started a little while ago,” I hedge before side-stepping to my right. He follows the movement and inches closer.
With a gulp, I stutter, “A-are you sure you don’t want a drink? I can go grab one for you…”
His massive frame crowds me against the table, its sharp edge digging into my lower back as I try to keep from cowering, but it feels impossible.
“When do you get off work?” he demands.
“I’m, uh…” I twist the rag in my hand. “I’m here all night.”
“Maybe I’ll stick around then. Watching you bend over that table was the highlight of my evening.”
Zeroing in on a peanut lying on the concrete floor beneath my feet, I try to ignore the way his gaze rolls over me like hot tar––like I’ve been burned.
“I’m, uh, I’m not sure my boyfriend would appreciate that,” I choke out.
“Boyfriend, huh? Who’s the lucky bastard?”
My eyes widen with panic before the first name that comes to mind tumbles out of me. “Gibson. He works here. He’s actually––”
“I know Gibbs.” He scans me up and down again as if I’m a piece of meat at the butcher’s. “And I gotta give you props. You’re rocking the whole innocent vanilla waitress like a champ.”
“Excuse me?”
“If you and Gibbs are a thing, that means you and Milo are, too.”
Confused, my mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water.
What the heck is he talking about?
Milo and Gibson are friends, but I’ve never gotten the vibe they’re anything else, and unless my gay-dar is broken, they’re both very straight.
He chuckles before toying with the ends of my hair, his knuckle brushing along the top of my breast, but I’m too frozen––too shocked––to move.
What. Is. Happening?
“You into sharing, babe?” he murmurs, his voice low and husky.
I shy away from his touch and push my hair behind my shoulder. “I-if you don’t want anything to drink, I should probably get back to work––”
“You should give me your number.”
“I have a boyfriend,” I remind him, my voice shaky.
“One you’d be smart to stay away from.”
My brows furrow as I pull my lips into a thin line.
He laughs dryly, though I’m not sure what he finds so amusing. Personally, I’m about to vomit all over the floor if this conversation goes on much longer.
“He’s dangerous,” he informs me as if we’re talking about the weather.
“Huh?”
“Your boyfriend. He’s dangerous. You’d be smart to stay away from him.”
I gulp but stay quiet, praying he’ll grow bored of our conversation and leave me alone, but I’m afraid that’s wishful thinking.
“Do you know what happened to his last girlfriend? Em?” he asks, grabbing my chin and forcing me to look at him. “She disappeared. Vanished into thin air. I’d hate for that to happen to you too. I’ve always been a sucker for an innocent girl who likes kink.”
“Hey, Dove!” Reese interrupts, her voice light and chipper, though her eyes are anything but. She’s another waitress at SeaBird and is slowly turning out to be one of my good friends, too, especially now that she just saved me from Mr. Creeper.
“Everything okay here?” she asks.
I gulp again and look up at the mystery man who can’t be more than five or six years older than me yet still makes me feel like a little kid.
“No problem,” the stranger answers for me. “Right, Dove?” He emphasizes my name like it’s a secret password that gives him permission to speak with me when all I want to do is run and hide. “I was just leaving.”
He steps around me but still manages to make me feel small and insignificant as he does so. Reese’s upper lip curls in disgust as she watches him leave. But not before he gives me one last knowing look as he walks out the door.
Whoever he was, I hope I never see him again.
“You okay?” Reese asks once he’s out of sight.
Blinking slowly, I try to wrangle in my emotions, but it feels impossible.
“Uh, yes. Yes, I’m fine,” I lie.
“What was that about?”
“Nothing.”
“You sure?”
With a jerky nod, I wring the dishrag between my hands like it’s a lifeline. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine. What happened, Dove? Who was that?”
“I-I don’t know. He was looking for Fender.”
“And?”
“And I told him that I didn’t know where he was.”
“Okay?” She frowns. “Is that it?”
With a deep breath, I shake my head. “No. Then he started asking me how long I’d worked here and if I’d be interested in…”––I clear my throat, hating the way my cheeks heat––“in hooking up later. I lied and told him I had a boyfriend, thinking maybe that would get him to back off.”
Surprised, Reese points out, “That’s a good idea, actually––”
“It didn’t work. So, I told him that Gibson was my boyfriend and that he’d be back any minute and wouldn’t appreciate him talking to me. I know it’s the furthest thing from the truth and that Gibson hates me, but it just popped into my head, and––”
“Seriously, Dove.” She grabs my wrist to keep it from shaking. “I think that was a brilliant idea.”
Again, I shake my head. “He knows him. Gibson. Supposedly, anyway.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” I give her a tight smile. “That’s not the part that was weird, though.”
“What do you mean?”
I hesitate, replaying the conversation in my head to confirm I didn’t imagine the whole thing. But it happened so fast. Honestly, I’m not even sure anymore.
“He said that if Gibson and I were a thing, then I must be having…relations with his friend, Milo, too,” I admit.
“Oh.” Reese’s lips purse as if she’s tasted something sour. “Yeah…I heard they’re into sharing.”
“That’s a thing?” I squeak.
With an awkward laugh, she shrugs. “Supposedly. Is that why you’re spooked? With your history and all, I’d get it. That probably sounds terrible. For two guys to––”
“That wasn’t it,” I mutte
I shake off my inner monologue and continue. “I mean, it sounded weird, but who am I to judge? No. He…” I pause, again, and look over at the bar where a very oblivious Gibson is mixing drinks. “H-he warned me about something.”
“Huh?”
“He just said that if I was smart, I’d stay away from Gibbs. And Milo.”
“Why?” Reese asks, just as confused as I am.
“Because their last girlfriend disappeared after they broke up, and it would be a shame if the same thing happened to me.”
“He said what?” Reese screeches.
“I know,” I rush out. “It sounds crazy, right?”
“Definitely crazy. I know Gibson, Dove. And I know Milo,” she adds. He’s her older brother. “Whatever bullshit that guy was spewing, it was exactly that. Bullshit.”
“You’re right. You’re right,” I repeat, though it does nothing to soothe my nerves. “It was just…the way he said, ya know? Like he knew something. But you’re right. He was probably just being a jerk.”
“I’m sure that’s exactly what he was being––”
“Do you know anyone named Em?” I interrupt. “Emma? Emily? Something like that?”
With a frown, Reese shakes her head. “Sorry. I don’t. But if it makes you feel better, you could always ask Gibbs.”
With a dry laugh, I roll my eyes then tuck my hair behind my ear. “No, thank you. That would be…weird. He hates me, remember? But you’re right. It doesn’t matter. We aren’t even dating,” I remind myself. “He’s my coworker. I just made that up to get that guy to leave me alone. It’s fine. Everything’s fine.”
“You sure?” Reese asks.
I nod. “Yes. Definitely.”
“Okay,” she mutters, though she doesn’t look very convinced. “We still on for tomorrow night?”
“Yes. Definitely,” I repeat, a little more sure this time. I’d give anything to get out of my stifling apartment and away from my grumpy, pregnant sister for reasons other than work. The girls’ night Reese suggested earlier tonight before our boss got mad at us for slacking sounds pretty dang perfect.
“Let’s get back to work before we get yelled at again,” I add. “And thanks for saving me.”
“Anytime.”
Chapter Two
Dove
After checking my phone to confirm I have the correct address, I pull into the driveway, turn off my car, and head to Reese’s front door. The place is super nice. And pretty big too. She didn’t mention how many roommates she had when she invited me over, but it must be a lot if she’s able to help pay for this place with her waitressing wages.
But she isn’t giving ninety percent of it to her pregnant sister, so what do I know?
Wiping my sweaty palms against my dark jeans, I take a deep breath and tap my knuckles against the door.
And I wait.
And wait.
And wait.
“Get the door!” someone yells from the other side. My pulse spikes, and I glance behind me toward the driveway, tempted to escape. But I keep my feet in place.
Reese is nice. It would be good to make some friends. You can do this, I remind myself.
Heavy footsteps follow the muffled request from a moment before. They thud against the floor, making my pulse rise with every chaotic step before the door opens with a soft creak to reveal a burly tattoo artist named Milo.
The Milo.
“Hey.” Reese’s brother has been to the bar a few times since I started working there, but it doesn’t stop me from being startled by his gruff beauty despite the creeper’s warnings that’ve been haunting me ever since. Mussed hair. Tattoos etched into his right arm. And the dimples? Curse those dimples. They’ve always been kryptonite to the Walker sisters.
Never trust a man with dimples, my sister would tell me. He’ll own your heart and break it with a single smirk.
Thankfully, his dimples are overshadowed by the invisible my-middle-name-is-trouble sign stamped across his forehead. Besides, I have too much on my plate to tempt fate by crushing on the guy.
Still, he is pretty to look at.
“Can I help you?” He smirks, clearly amused by my awkward silence and the fact that I totally got caught checking him out.
Good one, Dovey.
“Oh, um…” I hesitate, trying not to crumble under his direct attention. Talking to guys has never been my forte. I always left that particular attribute to my sister, Madelyn. Then again, look where that got her. Pregnant and alone.
He clears his throat––a not-so-subtle attempt to keep me focused.
Oh. Right.
“Reese?” I squeak, avoiding his gaze. “Is Reese home?”
Another smirk. This one’s more potent than the last. My knees threaten to give out on me before he lifts his chin and opens the door the rest of the way to let me inside. “She’s in the kitchen.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
After stepping inside, I rock back on my heels and wait for better directions. I have no idea where the kitchen is, and I’m not about to wander off in a stranger’s house.
My mother taught her daughters a few more manners than that.
My nose wrinkles at the smell of something burning as I assess the clean foyer and exposed brick walls along with the warm brown carpet that looks freshly vacuumed. There’s a large entertainment room, complete with a giant television hanging on the wall, and a worn leather couch on my right, while a set of stairs hug the left-hand side of the space.
A soft melody whispers from the second floor, begging me to follow it, but I keep my feet planted and turn back to Reese’s brother because, ya know, manners.
“I’m Dove, by the way. We met––”
“I know. Milo.”
“Yes. I remember. Hi.”
The prickly bear shifts his gaze from me to a hallway on the right of the stairs. “Kitchen’s over there.”
“Okay. Thank you.” I slip off my shoes, set them next to the front door, and look up to find Milo inspecting me, making me feel like I belong under a microscope.
“What are you doing?” he grunts.
“Um.” I tuck my hair behind my ear. “Taking off my shoes? Isn’t that the polite thing to do when you walk into someone’s house?”
With another crooked smirk––curse those dimples––he nods. “All right, then. Don’t let Reese burn the house down.”
“Is that where the smell is coming from?”
Always so serious, his gruff laugh is basically the equivalent to an Academy Award for comedians and makes my heart pick up its pace as he grabs a leather jacket from a coat rack. He slides his arms into it before searching its pockets for a small set of keys that likely belong to the motorcycle parked out front.
“Good luck with that,” he returns. “See you around, Dove.”
He steps out the door, and I’m left gawking at the bad boy who screams sex and bad ideas louder than a siren. The stranger’s warning from the night before echoes through my head again, but I shake it off.
Reese is right. There probably isn’t even an ex named Em, let alone one who disappeared out of the blue after a bad break-up. That doesn’t happen in real life. He was simply trying to freak me out.
And it worked.
I scatter the completely inappropriate thoughts about my friend’s older brother with a quick shake of my head and mosey down the hall toward the kitchen––and the scent of burnt sugar––before stumbling upon a scene I highly doubt I was supposed to see. Unless it’s normal to be pinned up against the cupboards by a guy without a shirt? Again, not exactly my forte.
