Forever Claiming You: Grudging Hearts Book 3 Read online

  Forever Claiming You

  Grudging Hearts Book 3

  Nia Arthurs

  First published in Belize, C.A. 2019

  Copyright © Nia Arthurs

  Cover Design: Oliviaprodesign

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that which it is published without a similar condition including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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  Contents

  1. Zania

  2. Zania

  3. Teale

  4. Zania

  5. Teale

  6. Zania

  7. Teale

  8. Zania

  9. Teale

  10. Zania

  11. Teale

  12. Zania

  13. Teale

  14. Zania

  15. Teale

  16. Zania

  17. Zania

  18. Teale

  19. Zania

  20. Zania

  21. Teale

  22. Teale

  23. Zania

  24. Teale

  25. Zania

  26. Teale

  27. Zania

  28. Teale

  29. Zania

  30. Teale

  31. Zania

  32. Teale

  Epilogue: Zania

  A Word From The Author

  Also by Nia Arthurs

  Sneak Peek: Be My Always

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  1 Zania

  This is why people drink.

  I place the delicate champagne flute to my lips. Sip my Absolut Vodka and strawberry ice tea.

  It slides down my throat.

  Warm and smooth.

  Delicious.

  If I’d known liquor could taste this good, I would have indulged more. Instead, I spent high school and college on the fringes of popularity, never quite understanding the collective obsession with booze and its prevalence at every social gathering.

  My fingers wrap tightly around the delicate stem of the glass. Rasp against the raised design burned into the cup. It’s smooth, artful, luxurious.

  This entire ballroom is luxurious. Thick red carpet. White-clothed tables. Giant stage with five-thousand-dollar glass decorations.

  Amateur pianist.

  Whoever is behind those keys needs to take several seats.

  I cringe as I hear another flat note. The subpar music kills the vibe. Collides with the ethereal beauty of the ice sculptures mounted on stands, the sliding glass door leading to a wide balcony, the fluttering white curtains in front of the mammoth-sized windows.

  Another bad note.

  My soul shrivels.

  The musician sucks.

  Not that anyone cares. The patrons of this ice sculpture charity ball—why ice sculpture of all things?—are too busy comparing their latest six-figure purchases and flirting with Teale Landry.

  Not that they’re all flirting.

  It just feels that way to me.

  Every time my eyes veer to Teale, he’s got a crowd of debutants in evening gowns pawing at his chest.

  And he’s not complaining.

  A high-pitched giggle clashes with the pianist’s crescendo. It drills into my ears. Attacks my senses like nails on a chalkboard.

  I’m forced to look at Teale again.

  There’s a woman next to—correction—draped over him. She’s tall. Pretty. Long, voluminous blonde hair glistens. A stunning dress wraps around her willowy figure.

  Teale whispers something that makes her laugh again. She throws her head back, releasing a gaudy cackle.

  I’m pretty sure she wants the room to notice.

  I’m pretty sure the joke’s not that funny.

  Teale’s answering smile glimmers in his blue eyes. Being the center of female adoration suits him as perfectly as his lean body suits that tailored tux.

  He raises a hand. Runs it through his messy, dirty blond hair. Unlike the other guys in the room who have gelled and moussed their hair to perfection, Teale looks like he rolled out of bed, pulled on a pressed suit and wandered here.

  And it works for him.

  A lot.

  That effortless don’t-give-a-crap aura mixed with the tuxedo effect can drive a woman crazy.

  I know.

  It’s driving me crazy.

  Not that I plan on joining the ranks of his desperate fan girls tonight.

  No, my body might be into Teale.

  But my head? That part is screwed on right.

  Sure, he’s handsome. Ripped. Charismatic. Funny. Intelligent.

  And… where was I again?

  Oh right.

  Teale might be all those things, but he’s bad news.

  A player to the max.

  And me?

  I’m the good girl. Raised by my sixty-three-year-old Baptist grandma.

  I know temptation when I see one and Teale is hot as hell. Sexy as sin. A waiting ticket to the gates of heaven followed by a one-way trip down under.

  His eyes lift from the Barbie on his arm.

  Sweep the room.

  Land on me.

  I stiffen, my fingers clawing around my drink.

  His pink lips curl up, slanting me that trademarked Teale smirk.

  I force myself to look away. Force my feet to walk. Grandma always said to run like Joseph when faced with temptation. So I’m booking it while I still have the good sense to keep my distance.

  When I get to the other side of the room, a woman wearing a beautiful navy dress and a string of pearls tips her cup at me.

  I nod.

  Her sharp gaze slides over my little black dress that was a surprise-find in the clearance rack at the local mall. Her nose scrunches. An eyebrow arches high who are you?

  The liquid in my glass sloshes over the rim and splashes on the corner of my hand as I point to the cake.

  Understanding dawns in her eyes. She trots over. “I’m Evelyn, the organizer of today’s event. Are you Chandra Howard?”

  “I’m Chandra’s employee. She asked me to attend in her place.” I take another sip. Hide my nerves behind the glass. That’s another thing alcohol is good for. It gives the hands something to do. It says ‘I belong here’ even if I really don’t.

  “Oh.” Evelyn scans me, another head-to-toe sweep. Her tiny grunt of disapproval rings loud and clear.

  And I get it.

  I do.

  I stick out like a sore thumb.

  It’s imbued in the air.

  Written in the stars.

  Someone here is not like the others.

  I shift from side to side, waiting for Evelyn to say something.

  She doesn’t.

  I cough. Drink.

  The glass is empty.

  I need another cocktail.

  This is all Chandra’s fault. My boss is on a romantic ge
taway with her boyfriend Ollie. She pushed a die-hard introvert out of her comfort zone and into the land of the wolves. Of course I’m getting torn apart.

  Evelyn clears her throat. “Well, enjoy the party.”

  “Thanks.”

  She sashays away, probably to lecture the bouncers outside on the riff-raff they allowed into her gala.

  I sigh.

  Turn.

  My gaze shifts back to Teale.

  Or where Teale was standing a minute ago.

  Barbie is still there, wearing a frown that I can see from here, but the tech guru is nowhere to be found.

  “Looking for this?” a deep voice rumbles.

  Every muscle in my body tenses at once.

  I whirl around.

  Find myself face-to-face with Teale.

  He holds a drink between his long, tan hands and offers it to me. I fight the fluttering sensation in my stomach.

  “I’m good,” I say. My voice only trembles a little.

  “You sure?”

  I nod.

  Teale knocks the glass back and licks his full bottom lip.

  My eyes study the sweep of his tongue.

  My body tightens with longing.

  My arms and legs tingle.

  My heart.

  Between my thighs.

  Teale is the only man who can entice such a physical reaction from me. It’s beyond my control.

  And that’s the scariest part.

  I can’t control how much I want him.

  Even if he’s bad for me.

  “Don’t tell anyone,” he says in a conspiratorial whisper, “but I really like these drinks.”

  “Why is that a secret?”

  “Because I’m not brave enough to admit I like pink cocktails.”

  I find myself smiling despite my nerves. “Revealing the truth would be devastating.”

  “Exactly.”

  I gesture to my mouth and pretend to pull a zipper. “My lips are sealed.”

  “I knew I could count on you, sweetheart.”

  My heart thunders in my chest.

  Did he just…

  Sweetheart.

  The pet name, on Teale’s lips, is enough to weaken my knees.

  He doesn’t mean it.

  The guy flirts with anything as long as it has a purse and a pulse.

  In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s calling me ‘sweetheart’ because he can’t remember my name.

  Still, excitement clamors through my body, my toes, my chest, my head. The butterflies I did my best to restrain are hard at work wreaking havoc in my stomach.

  Teale steps closer. Looks down at me—he has to, he’s over a foot taller—with a roguish gleam in his eye. “Want to get out of here?”

  “What?”

  “Chandra’s not forcing you to stay for the whole thing, is she?”

  “No, but—”

  “Good.” He takes the empty glass from my hand. His fingers brush mine.

  My body responds enthusiastically.

  My pulse hammers a crazy rhythm.

  Heat crackles along the back of my neck.

  His touch has been my dark, overwhelming desire since the moment he strode into Brew Drop. Even the slight graze of his skin against mine awakens a hunger I barely knew I had.

  Teale moves away and deposits both cups on a circulating waiter’s tray. I find myself missing the warmth of his fingers, wishing he hadn’t broken the contact.

  Stop it, Zania.

  It would be a mistake to think he’s into me.

  The entire room wants Teale.

  He could have his pick of gorgeous, successful, confident women. They’re all ready to throw their panties at him.

  Even now, I can feel Barbie’s stare like daggers in my back.

  Must resist.

  I inch back. Jut my chin toward the blonde woman. “What about your friends?”

  “My friends?” He looks genuinely confused. Then he turns. Grins. “Oh. Them. They’re boring.”

  “And you think I’m more exciting?”

  His eyes slide over my body. “I do.”

  Flames lick at my cheeks.

  Those eyes… he’s looking at me like I’m one of my famous red velvet cupcakes. Like he wants to devour me.

  Or am I just imagining that?

  I glance over Teale’s shoulder. Notice Barbie marching toward us, her beautiful face mashed into a silent war cry. “Incoming.”

  Teale looks back.

  Sees her too.

  “Alright, time to go.” He grabs my hand. Long fingers wrap around my palm.

  My heart skitters.

  I want his hand to stay there. To move up. Down. Wherever it wants.

  Teale pulls me forward.

  We race out of the banquet hall.

  But we don’t run far.

  Because Teale doesn’t take me out of the building.

  He takes me to a room upstairs.

  “We’ll wait here for a few minutes then I’ll drive you home,” he says after closing the door.

  I glance around the opulent space, my heart hammering. “Why do you have a room here?”

  “My place is being renovated. Why?” He turns. Slants me a wolfish grin. “Are you doubting my intentions?”

  I’m in a hotel room with Teale.

  Alone.

  Of course I’m doubting his intentions.

  I’m doubting mine too.

  Because, suddenly, I really want to make use of that gorgeous bed. Which is bad.

  That’s bad.

  It’s… bad, right?

  I take a deep breath. Slowly let it out.

  Teale’s used to girls throwing themselves at him. I’ve got to play it cool.

  “You do have a reputation.”

  He walks slowly toward me. “What have you heard?”

  “Enough to know how this ends.” I realize I’m being presumptuous and quickly tack on. “Or how it would… if I were someone else.”

  “Someone else?”

  Someone like the girls downstairs. But I’m not admitting that out loud. My insecurities are mine alone. “Never mind.”

  He steps closer. “I’m curious.”

  “About?”

  “Why you’re comparing yourself.” Blue eyes glide down. Back up. “You’re beautiful.”

  His words wash over me. Like a wave. Like the entire ocean. “I’m average.”

  “You’re stunning.”

  “And you’re a sweet-talker. I take everything you say with a grain of salt.”

  He holds a hand to his chest in mock-hurt. “Who poisoned you against me?”

  “I have eyes.”

  “And do they like what they see?” He drops his hands. Lifts his chin. The light bounces against his sculpted jaw. His deep blue eyes. The slow, sexy smile powerful enough to seduce from the cover of a magazine.

  My stomach coils.

  My breath thickens.

  “You look ridiculous.”

  We both know I’m lying.

  He regards me. Intently.

  Like he’s seeing past my skin to my soul.

  “Would you like me to show you, Zania?”

  Zania…

  He said my name.

  He knows my name.

  I blink. Struggle to hold on to sanity. “Show me what?”

  He steps closer. So close I can see the golden flecks in his blue eyes. Softly, he says, “How this ends.”

  Is he…

  Wait.

  Is this really happening?

  His fingers reach up. Barely graze my cheek. The touch is enough to prove that I’m awake and not dreaming.

  “I will,” he whispers. “If that’s what you want.”

  I close my eyes. Raise my hand. Press it against the back of his. His skin is soft.

  But the rest of him is hard.

  The feel of Teale against me…

  My body knows what it wants.

  Shyly, I dip my chin down.

  Nod.

 
; Yes.

  * * *

  Teale kisses me.

  He tugs the straps of my dress.

  Pushes it off my shoulders.

  Down my hips.

  Down my legs.

  Then he does things… the kind of things I’d only heard whispers about.

  And, when I’m warm and ready, he spreads me out on the bed. Produces a condom from the nightstand. Pulls it on.

  It all happens so fast.

  By the time I blink, he’s on top of me. Inside me. Growling wicked things in my ear.

  It’s my first time.

  I forgot to tell him that.

  It hurts.

  A lot at first.

  And then a little.

  And then not at all as the pleasure and excitement of being with Teale in such an intimate way takes over.

  It feels like time stops.

  Stretches.

  Ecstasy.

  Then it’s over.

  He hands me my dress.

  I wait for him to say something more.

  Something that will hint at his feelings.

  A future.

  It never comes.

  He drives me home.

  And leaves.

  The next day, he boards a flight to Australia.

  For the next two years, I don’t see or hear from Teale Landry again.

  2 Zania

  “This isn’t working out.”

  I jump.

  Move my eyes from the steak in front of me.

  Watch my boyfriend of almost two years.

  Damion can barely hold my gaze. Instead, he studies the scarred table between us. Rams his slender, musician’s fingers into the grooves of the tiled top. Scrapes it lightly.

  This restaurant is known for it’s ‘retro’ feel and the tiled tables are just one of many quirky stylistic choices. There’s also a medieval candle flickering near my head. Elvis posters frame the walls. A giant stuffed bear leans against the hostess podium.