Forbidden — Moira McTark

Ten years ago, loving Claire cost Cade his freedom. He's served his time for a crime he didn't commit and moved on with his life. Only now Claire is back with a secret she's desperate to keep. One Cade is more than willing to exploit in order to regain the upper hand with the woman who broke his heart.

On the run, Claire has returned to the seaside retreat where she first tasted freedom, found love, and discovered pleasure. And where she learned the bitter lesson of betrayal. Now her freedom depends on surrender to a man she can't trust. But giving up control to Cade is a pleasure she's never been able to resist. With a past Cade can't forget and a future Claire can't believe in, the erotic demands of the present are all they have left.

Moira McTark is the pen name under which Mira Lyn Kelly writes erotic romance. FORBIDDEN is a 15,700 word short, previously published, and fully revised and expanded.

Excerpt:
A car door slammed below, and Claire rushed through the second floor loft, taking the stairs down to the gallery two at a time. Running a mental inventory of all the issues that had come up during the remodel, she wanted to be prepared for the meeting. The message Bill left had been so rushed, she hadn't even gotten the owner's name, so she doubted the man would be any more prepared than she was.
They'd figure it all out this morning though.
Despite the ventilation, downstairs the air was infused with the scent of sawdust, fresh plaster, and paint. An olfactory backdrop to the building of her dreams. One she welcomed each morning, but today that first deep draw was arrested by the sight of the man leaning over a foldout table toward the front of the deserted gallery.
He stood with his back to her, faded denim hugged and hung just right over a pair of well-muscled legs, braced wide in one of those ridiculously male stances that led to a perfect butt. A white, long sleeve T-shirt stretched across broad shoulders, the collar dusted by a fall of slightly overgrown jet hair. Hair that left her finger tips tingling in sensory memory of short cropped strands just that same shade… the way it had sifted through her fingers, teased the bare skin of her breasts and between her legs.
Her heart skipped a beat and heat rose to her cheeks before coursing lower through her body. Even now, after all these years, after learning such a brutal lesson at his hand, Cade still lurked in the recesses of her consciousness. Throwing his shadow in places it didn't belong. Making her feel things she shouldn't feel.
She cleared her throat, trying to look more casual than she felt, and walked past the clutter of ladders, buckets, and tools toward the man who now held her gallery's fate in his hands.
As she approached, he straightened. “Morning, Ms… ahh… Skylar, give me one second.”
After making a final note, he turned to face her and the world ceased to spin. A wave of elation crashed over her before it all came rushing back and the tide of bitterness rose anew.
The pictures, the money, the tear-streaked faces of the girls who'd been as foolish as she had been.
It was impossible. This man was supposed to be anywhere but here.
Cade Watts stared back at her with a look of shock that must have equaled her own. He was the same and, yet, he was different.
Always tall, he was broader now. Harder. A long scar she'd never seen, faded by time, ran from his temple down to his cheekbone. He'd barely been a man all those years ago but, to her, he'd been more man than she knew what to do with. More man than she could resist, and she'd paid the price for it, too. Now, man hardly seemed word enough to describe him.
“Claire....” Had his voice actually cracked?
She swallowed hard. Taking a quick step back, stumbling against buckets and drop cloths, she shook her head, her mouth moving, trying to form sounds. Her mind had given up all together.
Regaining some semblance of control, she pushed words out with her ragged breath. “You… you aren't supposed to be here…