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  Ravish

  Copyright © 2014 Aliyah Burke

  Cover illustration copyright © Covers By K Designs

  Sensual Romance Publishing logo © MMJ Designs

  Editor: Jessica Bimberg

  ISBN: 9781310351990

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web-without permission in writing from the publisher or author. The unauthorized replication or allocation of any copyrighted work is illegal. File sharing is an international crime, prosecuted by the United States Department of Justice and the United States Border Patrol, Division of Cyber Crimes, in partnership with Interpol. Copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is punishable by up to five years in federal prison, a fine of $250,000 per reported instance, and seizure of computers.

  This book is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is coincidental. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only.

  Published by: Sensual Romance Publishing at Smashwords Publishing

  Ravish

  By

  Aliyah Burke

  Dedication

  To all my readers! Your support is unbelievable, thank you!

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Additional Books by Aliyah Burke

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  He had returned to Cottonwood Falls.

  Hermione Windsor ducked her head as he scanned the bank interior. She knew what others would see when they looked at him. A man whose appearance was identical to that of an up-and-coming action movie star. In fact, most might not know it was Brody Paget, who’d at one time lived here in Cottonwood Falls. After all, once he’d left here, he’d changed his name to Alton Rivers…his screen name.

  They may not know, but she did. With a sniff, she lifted her head. She had no reason to be ashamed. She wasn’t the one who’d left. She hadn’t abandoned her fiancé without a word. And yet, seeing him, here and now, brought it back. All of it. The good, the bad, and the excruciatingly painful.

  Taking a deep breath, she withdrew the money and counted it out to Mrs. Cofax who waited. “There you are, Mrs. Cofax. Have a great day.”

  “You know, Hermione. You’re always such a joy. Every day I see you, you’re always so cheerful. Aren’t you the president yet?”

  Not feeling particularly cheery right now. “Thank you. I’m waiting a year or so more before my takeover,” she said, smiling at the man behind her current customer, the actual president of the bank.

  “She’ll have my job very soon, Mrs. Cofax,” Mr. Pringle commented. “Mark my words, she’s destined.”

  The woman turned and welcomed him. Beyond them, Hermione spied Brody still in line. His shades hid his dark brown gaze. I wonder if karma will bite me for avoiding him. Bite. A singular word, which tempted her with memories. She’d done that to him a time or two, as well as being the recipient of some marks herself. No. I will not go there.

  “Ms. Windsor,” her boss said. “A moment.”

  She up moved her closed window sign in position with a sigh, gave Mrs. Cofax a farewell smile, and left the chair. Mr. Pringle met her at the end of the four teller windows.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “I wanted to thank you again for coming in to help out.”

  “No need. Shelia didn’t plan to go into labor early. I have no problem running a window. I’ve been running since high school.”

  “It’s just not common for you to do so anymore, especially as you’re now the finance officer of the bank.”

  He sounded distraught, and she hastened to calm his fears. “We’re family. I will help people when they need it. Our patrons understand we’re short staffed currently.”

  “I’ll take over now. I know you haven’t had a lunch.”

  “Sure thing.” If Brody was in here, it was the last place she needed to be. On the other hand… No, I don’t need to do this now.

  Moving to the back, she grabbed her container of leftover perciatelli and meatballs then placed it in the microwave. While it reheated, she withdrew her salad before she added the breadsticks for the final remaining seconds of the heating process of the pasta.

  At the small table, she ate, in no particular rush, enjoying her meal. The rest of her day flowed along smoothly. It was later than she’d planned when she left, for she had some paperwork to catch up on before she could depart.

  The sun had begun to lower in the sky when she walked out of the bank. Heading to her car, she took a deep breath, ready to get off her feet and relax for a bit. She placed her bag on the passenger seat and started to round to the driver’s side.

  “Hermione.”

  The voice wove around her, rooting her to the spot. She closed her eyes briefly, took a deep breath, and turned to meet the man behind her. Ten years wasn’t nearly long enough for her to forget him, no matter how he’d changed. She would know him anywhere. Regardless of what name he went by.

  “Hello.” Yes, that would work. Be calm, unimpressed.

  He towered over her. Always had. Brody had never failed to make her feel small, delicate even. And protected. The important thing for me to remember here is the word had in all those thoughts.

  “I didn’t recognize you in the bank when I was there at first. You’ve changed.”

  She wasn’t sure that was good thing or not. “Most do in ten years,” she said, grateful her tone remained modulated.

  He never altered his expression, and she couldn’t see behind his sunglasses.

  “Yes,” he commented. “I suppose we all do.”

  “Excuse me,” she said. “I have a date.” Where the words originated from, she hadn’t any clue.

  “Really?” His dark eyebrows shot up on his forehead.

  Her ire went from low simmer to full-fledged with someone using a bellows on the flames. “I’m sorry? Is the prospect of me having a date so foreign to you?”

  He took a step back before halting and shaking his head. “No, that…that isn’t it at all.”

  She arched one eyebrow and, looking down her nose at him, sniffed. “Good.” Before she totally lost her composure, she spun on her heel and climbed in her car. Her trusty Honda rumbled to life when she turned the key, allowing her to drive away without another word. Even so, as she moved farther away from him, she glanced in the rearview.

  Damn him! What had she done to deserve this? Without considering she may be busy with other things, or someone else, Hermione drove over to her friend’s house, Dr. Melinda Glazer.

  Parking beside her SUV, Hermione took deep breaths before climbing out on wobbly legs. At the door, she rang the bell. Moments later, Melinda answered.

  “Hermione, how… What the fuck happened? Are you okay? Get in here.”

  She could feel her walls crumbling around her then Melinda had her arms circling her.

  “Christ, honey,” she said. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s going on?”

  She had, in a manner of speaking. “He’s back,” she muttered, going along as Mel led her to the couch.

  “Go grab something comfortable from my closet, and we’ll talk about it. I’ll fix us something to drink.”

  Hermione ma
y have less stature than Melinda, but at least she wouldn’t be in her business suit. In Melinda’s room, she dug for a pair of sweats and an oversized sweatshirt, needing some extra warmth for the moment. Melinda waited with a drink for her, and they sat on the couch.

  “Am I interrupting something you had going on tonight?” she asked.

  “Not a chance. Besides, you need me, I’m here. What’s going on? Who’s back?”

  She sipped the coffee, grateful for the liberal amount of alcohol she tasted in it. Leave it to Melinda to know what she needed. She swallowed, accepted the burn, and looked at her friend.

  “Brody Paget.”

  f

  Brody paced his small hotel room. He needed to go home and see his parents, which had been the sole purpose of this trip. His news to them would be better served face to face.

  So what the hell am I doing hiding out in the hotel room? He wasn’t quite sure, but neither could he bring himself to go to the house he’d grown up in. His confidence had wavered in the bank. He sank on the edge of the bed.

  Hermione. Seeing her again had rocked him to the core. She’d filled out in the ten years since he’d left, becoming much curvier. She still took his breath away. It had been a shock to see her, but once he’d figured out who she was, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. He’d been eternally grateful he wore his sunglasses, for that way no one else in there would know he stared only at her.

  The young woman who’d stolen his heart had given way to a mature woman who made his mind go down roads best left in the shadows. He had no claim over her. Plus, she said she had a date tonight.

  Knowledge that pissed him off. Again, without any rhyme or reason. He didn’t have the right to feel such a way about her, but he did. He wanted her here with him, wanted to share his journey with her. Kiss her. Make love to her.

  His mind shoved him down a dark path. Was she enjoying her lover? Taking him inside her body with moans and cries that used to be reserved solely for Brody? Was that man kissing her in that ticklish spot on her hip, right below her butterfly tattoo?

  Rage simmered just below the surface, and he swore, catapulting to his feet and pacing once more. He pocketed his keys and left the room that had begun to close in on him.

  He slid behind the wheel of his rental, a white Cadillac Escalade. Backing away from his spot, he turned toward his childhood home. No time like the present. He noticed the changes as he drove along, liking what he saw. The place still had a small hometown feel to it. Some days in Hollywood, he missed that. Missed the niceties that come with knowing your neighbors.

  As he pulled up to his parents’ house, he took several deep breaths. Parking behind his father’s old truck, he killed the engine. The front yard, meticulously maintained, as usual. The house appeared in need of a new coat of paint, but it wasn’t anything serious.

  He opened the door and climbed out. His old rope swing no longer hung from the large Cottonwood in the yard. He strolled up the path to the steps, steps he’d fallen off, jumped from, and rolled down more than once. The railing, smooth beneath his hand, gave him purchase as he went to the screen door.

  The television was on; he could hear it through the door. It was accompanied by the scent of his mother’s cooking. Brody pushed the doorbell and waited.

  “I got it, James. You stay there.” His mother’s southern drawl was a balm to Brody’s soul.

  She approached, wiping her hands off on her apron. “Yes?” she asked before she stopped and gasped. One hand over her mouth, she pushed open the door, never once taking her eyes from him.

  “Brody?” she asked, that same hand reaching out to him. He couldn’t help but notice the slight tremble.

  He removed his sunglasses. “Hi, Mama.”

  Tears filled her large eyes as she reached for him. “Oh, my baby is home. Brody’s come home. James, Brody’s back,” she called out, her strong arms holding him the way only a mother’s strength can.

  Over his mother’s head, he looked up to see his father standing there. “Hello, sir,” he said.

  For a moment, he thought his father would turn around and walk away. Then, he reached out a hand. Brody shook it, more grateful than words could ever say about being home once more.

  “Come inside,” his mother said, stepping back but tugging on him. “I’m fixing dinner.”

  “I know. I could smell it outside. Been a long time since I’ve tasted your home cooking.”

  The familiar bang of the screen door behind him sent him farther down memory road. Summer nights, running in and out of the house, only to circle it on the veranda then back in again. Chasing the lightning bugs to put in jar and bring to his room, only to release them the next night and do it all over.

  His father shut off the television and joined them in the kitchen. Brody sat at the table, accepting the tall glass of tea his mama gave him.

  “So, what have you been doing all this time?” she asked.

  “I’ve been in California. Acting.”

  “And, they don’t have phones out there you could call your mama?” she reprimanded as she began filling the potpies.

  “They have phones, yes. I know I did this wrong, but I did the best I could. I sent money.”

  His father opened a beer. “Through some man we never even heard of before.”

  “He’s my agent.”

  “We’re your parents.”

  “James, please.”

  There was no denying the plea in his mother’s voice. His father grunted and drank some of his beer.

  “I wanted, needed to be anonymous. I had to see what I could do.”

  “And, what did you find?” Her question had him turning from his father to look at her.

  “That Alton Rivers is a great actor. I came home because I had to tell you, I’ve been offered a part opposite a big name star, and if this movie does well, they will find out who I really am, and people may come here to see what my childhood home and parents are like.”

  “Alton Rivers?”

  “Yes, sir, that’s the name I use in the movies.”

  “Your middle name is Alton.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do you think we can’t handle a few people coming over here?”

  He rose and walked to kiss his mother’s cheek. “I know you can, Mama. I don’t know how this will play out, but I didn’t want you to be blindsided by it on the chance it happens.”

  “Why wouldn’t it have happened before now?” she asked.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I wasn’t in big roles. I had small parts.”

  “If this is going to be where people come here to dig into your past, have you told Hermione?”

  At his mother’s question, his father crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow, telling him he also wanted to know the answer to that.

  Brody leaned against the countertop. “No. I saw her today in the bank, but she wouldn’t talk to me.”

  Both his parents gave him a look he knew was a no-duh look.

  “I don’t know how they do things out there,” his father said. “But here, if you walked away from the best thing that ever happened to you without a word and are now possibly making it so she has to face that, you’d best get a way to have a discussion with her before it happens.”

  “I know. Do you know who she’s dating?”

  Her mother smacked him in the arm. “Do you really think your ex-fiancée wants to talk to us a lot after our son abandoned her?” She shook her head. “That’s between the two of you. I don’t want to get involved.”

  He wished it was a road he didn’t have to revisit either. But, he did have to. He owed her that much, at least, for doing what he’d done.

  “Do you at least know where she lives?” The moment he asked it, he accepted he’d worded it wrong. He should have asked if she would tell him. Either way, he would find her tomorrow, and they could have a little chat.

  A tensing of his belly at the thought of being close to her again had him shaking his head a
nd going to the fridge for a beer of his own. This was not the time for feelings to be brought back up, at least not ones he’d left behind.

  Hadn’t he?

  Chapter Two

  Hermione slowed as she returned from her run to her drive when she saw the large shadow of an SUV in the driveway. She’d begun running after Brody had left her as a way to channel her pain and anger. Since then, it had become habit, and she did it every day religiously. The unease in her gut told her who it was, even before he emerged from the interior.

  It’s too early for this. I haven’t even had my coffee yet. She slowed to a walk and tried to cool down a bit before reaching him. He’d left a boy and come back all man. His jeans were slightly baggy. Not that it mattered; she knew what he had. Black boots on his feet braced slightly apart, and she dragged her gaze up over the button-down light denim shirt that covered another blue shirt beneath it. The sleeves on the long-sleeve were rolled up, exposing his powerful forearms to her hungry gaze.

  His hair, gone on the sides, was close cropped on the top. He had a circle beard—she’d always loved that on him—but now, his face had matured, and it did so much more for him. His dark brown skin tempted her even from the distance separating them. Even after all this time.

  She wiped the sweat off her brow and slowed even more as she neared him. The sun glinted off the black stone in his ear, and she soured. “Some reason you’re parked in my driveway, Alton Rivers?”

  He removed his sunglasses and hooked them over the blue t-shirt beneath the long sleeve.

  “Don’t call me that.”

  She rolled her shoulders. “Why not? Isn’t that who you are now? You turned your back on Brody Paget.”

  A grimace twitched at the corners of his mouth briefly before he smoothed it away. “Not to you. Look, can we talk?”

  She snorted. You’re not a damn thing to me now except a painful memory. “Now, you want to talk? I couldn’t possibly imagine what about.” Hermione walked by him to her front door. It didn’t take a genius to know he’d fallen into step behind her.

  Removing her key, she took several deep breaths before opening her door, although she wasn’t sure it was wise, for his scent ran roughshod over her. He entered after her, and she barely refrained from snarking at him.