Love to Tempt You: A Forbidden Roommate Rockstar Romance (Wild Love Book 4)

  Love to Tempt You

  J. Saman

  Copyright © 2021 by J. Saman

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Designer: Shanoff Designs

  Photography: Wander Aguair

  Editing: My Brother’s Editor

  Proofreading: Danielle Leigh Reads

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Prologue

  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

  Epilogue

  Also by J. Saman

  End of Book Note

  Love to Hate Her

  The Edge of Temptation

  I do not typically include trigger warnings in my books. If you’ve read me then you know I don’t hold back and I get emotional. I labored over including this, but given the age of the character and the nature of what is written (I do not get graphic, but it is discussed) I felt it important to warn readers who might already be struggling.

  If you need help, talk to someone. Do not suffer in silence because you are never alone!

  If you read this book, please read my end of book note for my reasons as to why I wrote this.

  * * *

  I hope you enjoy Keith and Maia. Theirs is a story unlike others I have written before.

  Prologue

  Keith

  * * *

  Time seems to stand still, suspended above my head like an angry cloud as I stare up into the starless night through the windshield. It’s going to storm tomorrow. I can feel it in my bones. If it storms, I won’t have football practice. That means I can sit inside all day and jam with the guys. She’ll come for that. She always does.

  She loves to watch us play.

  “Keith,” she whispers, and I smile, turning to her in the passenger seat. She’s so pretty when she smiles it makes my chest flutter.

  I haven’t seen her smiles in so long. Not the real ones anyway, which is what this is.

  Her smiles haven’t touched her eyes in months. Maybe longer. I don’t even know anymore. But tonight feels different—it fills me with a burgeoning hope.

  She had fun at the party. She laughed and danced with her friends.

  Maybe she’s finally starting to get better?

  I reach out and touch her face, the bones sharp yet fragile beneath my fingers. The hollow dip of her cheek is more pronounced than it was even a few weeks ago. I frown a little at that before I can stop it, a swell of anxiety filling up my gut.

  She catches my expression and pulls away, staring straight ahead and out the car window. I take her hand instead, bringing it up to my lips, and press a kiss into her palm. I need to fix the mood I just soured and any time I open my mouth lately, I practically cringe, petrified I’m going to make things worse not better.

  “Tonight was fun.”

  She nods, turning back to me, and her face has more of that glow it had before I touched her cheek. “It was. I’m so glad I came out with you.”

  “School starts in a week. Senior year.”

  “And you’re leaving for California when that’s all done.”

  I chuckle at her excited yet insistent tone. “If the Crimson Tide and my father don’t get their hands on me first.”

  She shakes her head, her smile light and playful. “No way. You’re meant for the stage, Keith Dawson. Bright lights and drumsticks.”

  “And you’ll be there front row.”

  “No matter what, I’m forever and always your biggest fan.”

  I stare into her eyes and kiss her palm again. Knowing she loves it when I do that.

  “You should get in before your mama comes out here and tans my hide for keeping you out late,” I tell her though I hate the idea of her going inside and our perfect night ending.

  White teeth sparkle as her smile widens, her pale blue eyes glittering against the sliver of moonlight that somehow manages to seep into the car. “She’s asleep. Both of my parents are.”

  I laugh, bouncing my eyebrows suggestively. “Are you inviting me in then with you, babe?”

  Her smile falters. “Not tonight.”

  There’s something in her voice that tears at me a little, and I can’t understand what it is. Did I say something wrong? She hasn’t let me touch her in so long, and all I want to do is touch her. Show her how much I love her. Always.

  None of that other stuff matters to me because I’m here with her to the end.

  “Goodnight, Keith. I love you.”

  I lean across the seat and kiss her lips. She opens for me instantly, her tongue sweeping against mine. Warm. Soft. Wet. “I love you too, babe. See you tomorrow, okay? Breakfast, right? I’ll be back early for you.”

  “‘Night.” She steps out of the car, and it’s like she’s gone. Disappeared. Swallowed up by the blackness of night.

  Streaks of her platinum blonde hair ghost across my face and I reach out, trying to grasp at the strands only to have them slip through my fingers one by one. My heart starts to pound.

  I can’t find her.

  I can’t see her.

  I can’t feel her.

  Now my heart is beating too fast. Slow down. But it can’t. I try to take a deep breath and a gasp ricochets through my skull. Is that me? No. It can’t be. It was her.

  The room is abnormally bright. All the lights are on and it’s hurting my eyes. Why are her lights on? Dread clings icily to my skin as I drift toward her bathroom. I call out to her, but she doesn’t respond.

  Come on, babe. Answer me.

  Ring. Ring. Ring. The blaring sound scatters my thoughts, dragging me away from her room. Away from her bathroom.

  I’m dreaming. I need to wake up. WAKE UP!

  I don’t want her to die tonight.

  My eyes snap open, my chest heaving in rhythm with the pounding of my heart. Cold sweat covers my body and I shudder, sitting up and blinking as I frantically look around.

  Home. I’m home in my bed.

  Fuck! I haven’t had a nightmare in months.

  Startling me out of my dark thoughts, my phone rings on my nightstand, and I realize that’s what interrupted my dream. I’m grateful for it until it dawns on me that it’s only a little after two in the morning and this is the second time they’ve called in as many minutes.

  Scrambling quickly across my bed, I grasp my phone, swiping to accept the call when I see it’s Gus. “Hey,” I answer immediately. “What’s wrong?”

  Because Gus never calls in the mid
dle of the night. Not like this anyway.

  “She’s in labor,” he announces, and I sag against my headboard in relief at the jubilation in his voice. I rub a hand up and down my face, trying to wipe away the residual heartache and panic of my dream. “Fucking Viola is in labor. Jasper just called. They’re headed to the hospital.”

  I grew up with these boys. My bandmates. My brothers from other mothers.

  And because of that, part of me is tempted to tell him about the dream I was just having. Always the same dream. Every damn time I dream about her. No matter what.

  Only tonight I never made it into the bathroom.

  I mentally shake my head. I don’t think telling him would accomplish anything other than making him worry about me. Not to mention, this is clearly not the time for that.

  “That’s amazing. Wow. Another baby.” I sit up a little straighter, the residue of devastation slipping away as I think about the new life that will be born tonight. A life that I already love because it belongs to Jasper and Viola and they belong to me.

  He chuckles into the phone. “Did I wake you out of a dead sleep? You sound out of it.”

  I wince at the description he just used and ask, “Where are you?” instead of answering him because it sounds like he’s in the car.

  “On my way to the hospital, dude. Naomi went over to Jasper’s to stay with Adalyn, so Jasper and Vi didn’t have to wake her and drag her along.”

  Good. That’s good. I can’t imagine how jarring all of this will be for four-year-old Adalyn, autism or not. Her getting a good night’s sleep and then meeting her new baby brother or sister is the way to go.

  “I think it’s a boy,” I tell him.

  “I’m still going with another girl and if I win, you owe me a grand and so does Henry.”

  Speaking of… “Did you call Henry yet?”

  Gus snorts into the phone. “He’s my next call. Come on. Get out of bed and come meet our new niece or nephew.”

  Gus disconnects the call and I climb out of bed, ambling into the bathroom as I force myself to shut my thoughts off. To focus on the new baby being born into our lives. I turn the shower on to hot and the tap on the sink to cold. I splash some water on my face and find my haunted eyes in the mirror.

  Guilt swarms through my chest like a hive of angry bees. Will this feeling ever go away? Will the nightmares ever stop? Will I ever be whole again?

  Gus has Naomi. Jasper has Viola and Adalyn and now his new baby.

  Henry is happy living his bachelor existence having sworn off love.

  And I have none of that.

  Worse yet, I don’t see how I ever will. Not when I’ve already lost everything.

  1

  Maia

  Seven months later

  * * *

  In my mind, fantasies are tangible. I’m not living across the country from where I grew up, dealing with rich assholes who like to grope me while sipping their twenty-dollar martinis. I have enough money to pay off all the debt my father accrued in my name after my mother died and still make it through college without choking on life at the end of it.

  But in reality, fantasies are the cruelest form of mockery.

  “Maia, get your ass moving,” my boss barks though his eyes are aimed directly on my tits as I leave the kitchen, a large tray filled with food and drinks that cost more than I make in a week poised effortlessly in my hands. If I wasn’t going to get fired and lose what little I have left in my life, I’d kick him in the nuts.

  “Fucking pig,” I grumble under my breath.

  “What was that?” he snaps back.

  I roll my eyes as my friend Alyssa passes me, catching her amused smirk on the way.

  “I said the pork looks fantastic.”

  I don’t wait for his reply because I know he won’t give one. He’s already onto poor Alyssa. Our misogynist boss has no clue that my eyes are brown but knows full well what my cup size is. He doesn’t hide the fact that he hires waitresses based on tit to waist ratio. He claims it’s so he can order us proper fitting uniforms, which is his way of avoiding a sexual harassment suit, I guess.

  This is not how I expected my life to be at the age of twenty. Not even close.

  But in truth, things were worse before I came to Los Angeles, so I’m hardly in a position to complain about a job that pays my rent and manages the minimum payments of my debt.

  “Here we are,” I say to the table full of celebrities from some reality TV show I never cared enough about to watch.

  The men are all those polished types with expensively coiffed hair, golden tanned skin, and ultra-white teeth. The women are as blonde and big busted as I am, but theirs comes from a salon and a surgeon whereas mine comes from my father and grandmother, respectively. My mother was pixie small everywhere, and on more than one occasion, I’ve wished I took after her more than my father’s side.

  “Are you an actress or a model?” one of the men asks as he takes a sip of his whiskey, his gleaming eyes appreciative as they rake over me.

  I stifle a scowl as I finish setting out all the dishes and the second round of drinks, removing the empty first round. “Neither. I’m in college.” Or at least I will be starting back this fall if, by some miracle, I can scrounge up the semester tuition.

  “Oh. That’s fun,” one of the girls snarks and the others giggle under their breath, like the idea of an education is such a waste when you can earn huge money doing nothing of significance with your life other than make out with random men while wearing a bikini. I suppose from that perspective, she’s right.

  But that will never be me.

  I straighten after I’m done and meet her with a steadfast gaze and a strong smile. “Is there anything else I can get you for now?”

  “No thanks. I think we’re all set,” the appraising guy answers for her, and I spin on my cheap heels and leave them to it.

  They’re not the first ones to ask if I’m one of the many who works as a waitress in between acting or modeling jobs. We have a few struggling actors here. But that’s not why I came to Los Angeles.

  I finish off the rest of my tables, working my tail off until the kitchen closes and the restaurant turns more into a bar, taking in the after-hours action this city is known for. Bruce, the bouncer who works the door, walks me to my car, making sure I get in safely while he chats my ear off about his new baby boy who has colic.

  “That’ll get better, right? I mean, Kathy says it will, but she’s so exhausted all the time and with me working nights, it’s hard to help.”

  I smile and pat his humongous shoulder. I have zero experience with babies, but I don’t think he’s actually looking for me to supply him with a real answer. He just needs someone to vent to and I’m a good listener.

  “Hang in there, Bruce. This phase won’t last forever and before you and Kathy know it, he’ll be sleeping through the night and then you won’t know what to do with yourselves.”

  Bruce lets out a hearty chuckle, opening the door to my car for me as he always does because he was brought up with manners. I throw him a wink and a thank you for walking me to my car, and then I shut the door. Turning the key to start my car up, I clench my eyes shut, sending up a silent prayer that it starts without issue. Once it does, I blow out a breath, relaxing and leaning back in my seat.

  I didn’t have a chance to count my tips tonight before leaving and after glancing this way and that, determining that the lot is clear of people, I slip my wad of cash out of my pocket and start counting the bills. One hundred twenty in cash and another one hundred plus that in tips I’ll collect on payday next week since it was done through a credit card.

  I smile a little to myself, doing some quick mental math. “Getting there,” I whisper, tucking the money into my purse and driving out of the back lot of Lavender Bar and Grille.

  It’s well past midnight, but in this part of town, that hardly matters on a Friday night. The street and sidewalks are littered with expensive cars and beautiful people. Sitting
at a red light, I turn on my ancient radio, dialing up the sound on the song that comes on because it’s one of my favorites from Wild Minds’ new album.

  Belting out the lyrics at the top of my lungs, I unabashedly people watch, rocking out and bopping along to the heavy drumbeat. A man in a red Ferrari convertible pulls up beside me, eyeing my car and the fact that I’m blatantly singing and dancing with harsh disdain.

  It makes me laugh.

  People in this city have no chill in them. Always too concerned with their outward appearance to let loose. Then I laugh a little harder.

  When the hell have I ever let loose?

  The light turns green and I toss him a wink and a wave, driving through and not sparing him another thought. It doesn’t take me more than a few minutes until I’m past the lights and glitz of Hollywood, heading deeper into Los Angeles.

  A yawn slips past my lips and I slide the shoe off my aching left foot. I’m exhausted. My job at Lavender is not my only one. I work Monday through Friday as an administrative assistant for a large law firm. Well, I’m actually just a temp through an agency, but I’ve been there a little more than two months now.

  But tomorrow I can sleep in a bit, working a double on Saturdays at Lavender, but not having to arrive until eleven am. Sunday is my one and only day off, and I can’t help myself from counting down the hours until the end of my shift tomorrow night.

  Pulling up to another red, I search around, not seeing anyone coming, and start to turn right, more than anxious to get home and into bed.