Wasted Love Boxed Set: Second Chance Romance Parts 1-3 Read online

  WASTED LOVE

  Box Set: Parts 1 - 3

  By

  Colleen Charles

  Contents

  WASTED LOVE

  Part 1

  WASTED LOVE

  Part 2

  WASTED LOVE

  Part 3

  Foreword

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  WASTED LOVE

  Part 1

  By

  Colleen Charles

  Prologue

  Ashton

  The hard length of his body slithered down mine and I couldn’t stifle my groan. I gripped the sides of the narrow twin bed and braced myself for it. The pain.

  “Are you okay with this?” Quinn asked. His clear blue eyes narrowed with his concern.

  At this point, it was too late to be worried. Like a runaway freight train, there was no stopping this trip down the tracks. He was naked. I was naked. We were already at the edge of passion, with one foot dangling over the cliff. All we had to do was let go.

  “I’m sure,” I whispered and nodded my head. A barely perceptible shake.

  Thousands of butterflies fluttered inside my stomach and my knees trembled, but I wasn’t backing out. No way. I’d dreamt of this moment every single day for years. As far back as I could remember really. For as long as I’d held understanding of what happened between a man and a woman when they loved one another. How they physically expressed that love.

  I now laid exposed in the bed with Quinn Andrews, my older brother’s best friend, living out a secret fantasy I’d had since the day that boys had replaced Malibu Barbie in my private fantasies. Tonight he’d receive the ultimate gift. He was about to take me places that a virgin could only dream about. My lips quivered, my skin glistened with perspiration, and the gentle swelling from deep in my loins grew more intense with each heartbeat. Ready. Completely and utterly ready to be taken by this man.

  “Good,” he said with a smile, and his gorgeous eyes locked with mine again. Sparkling with desire. “Just tell me if it starts to hurt. We’ll go nice and slow.”

  I drew my lower lip under my front teeth and nodded in agreement. His gentle hands gathered the strands of hair clinging to my face and tucked them behind my ear. It was the little things that Quinn did that made my heart go flip-flop. I couldn’t wait to feel all the passionate feelings I’d only read about before tonight. We’d climax together. It couldn’t happen any other way.

  “You are so goddamn gorgeous,” he said, as if pushing back my bangs allowed him to see my face for the first time.

  Oh boy, I thought to myself, hurry up and make love to me, Quinn. I want to feel it. All of it. Pain quickly replaced by pleasure.

  I watched him pump himself a couple of times, eyes widening. Hard to believe that gigantic member would fit inside my slight body. A flood of wetness pooled between my legs at the sight of his pulsing erection. As if to tease me, he brushed the tip across my slippery flesh and I felt an answering tug deep in my core. Then, very carefully, he slid into my untried pussy.

  I stuffed a fist in my mouth to muffle the cry from the excruciating burn. Because I felt ripped in two, split wide open and I automatically stiffened. Not moving a muscle in order to protect myself from further discomfort. Slowly, he inched in further, not breaking his promise to be careful, until he was buried all the way inside of me. It was uncomfortable for a moment, and I was surprised by just how deep I could feel him. I struggled to adjust to his girth and couldn’t stop the tears that moistened my eyes.

  Quinn wiped them away and, with a look of concern, asked me, “Are you okay, Ashton?”

  I gave him a weak smile, a bit embarrassed for crying. My body had betrayed me, and my emotions were all over the place. I’d just become a woman. But I wiggled my hips ever so slightly, guiding his tip to every spot deep inside. Then, like the flip of a switch, the pain and discomfort erupted into immeasurable pleasure. More wetness pooled and enveloped his cock and I squealed with delight.

  Once Quinn saw this excitement, he pulled back and thrust himself in again, a bit harder this time. Again he hit the mark and my back arched involuntarily, a reflex of pleasure. Soon we found a comfortable rhythm as my hips matched his every move, his every stroke.

  “Oh, Ashton! Babe, you are so tight,” Quinn breathed. He pumped harder and faster, as his breathing grew heavier. “Damn, this feels so good.”

  Every stroke was bliss. For what felt like an eternity he pummeled into me. I wanted to scream his name and every expletive I could think of, but all I could manage was a series of moans as I bit hard on my knuckles.

  With one last forceful plunge he slid all the way, his balls smacking against my ass, as he called out my name, “Ashton! Oh God, I’m coming.”

  Unfortunately, I didn’t quite reach the orgasm that I’d read all about in my bookshelf of romance novels and issues of Cosmopolitan. I knew how to pleasure myself, but I was looking forward to that mind-crushing, toe-curling orgasm that only came from having an experienced lover. Maybe next time? Or maybe those orgasms I had read about were just as fictional as the characters that experienced them.

  Quinn collapsed on top me and kissed my forehead. “Princess, that was awesome. You okay?”

  I nodded. Maybe it was due to the lack of said toe curling orgasm, but my only thought was that I hoped the condom didn’t break.

  ***

  Griffin was ready to smoke a bowl. The party hadn’t gone too late, but most of the girls had midnight curfews and already left. It’s no secret that once the girls are gone, the party’s over. Now it was almost one in the morning and Quinn had gone AWOL like a frightened soldier. He hoped his friend hadn’t skipped out on him with that chick he’d been flirting with earlier. Bros before hos.

  The house was a complete mess and he needed help cleaning up before his parent’s came home tomorrow. Ashton would help a little, but not without bitching. He showed the last stragglers out the front door and, after surveying the mess, went to look for Quinn.

  He checked his parent’s room first, which was supposed to be off-limits to his friends. No Quinn. But if he were lucky, his father would have left some dope in his stash in the closet. How cool was it that his dad smoked weed? Griffin knew a lot of parents did it, but his dad had always been open about it. Surely he wouldn’t mind it if Griffin borrowed a bit in this time of need right? He’d replenish it later with even better stuff than his dad could procure.

  Griffin wandered into the closet and flipped the light switch. At the same time, a faint voice whispered something from behind his back, startling him. He turned around but no one was there. He heard the whisper again, this time it was joined by a blinking green light in the corner of the room. It was the baby monitor. Which was strange, because his parents had taken his baby brother and left for a weekend to visit his uncle Mark in Encino.

  He slid onto his parent’s bed, picked up the baby monitor and pressed it flush to his ear. There were two voices – male and female – whispering and giggling. Unable to make out what they were saying, Griffin hit a button that turned on the monitor’s video screen, which was linked to an infrared camera in the corner of the room. Damn technology. Mom would blush at the other uses she hadn’t even considered.

  He smiled as the video feed came in, grainy and broken. Two figures had taken advantage of the tiny twin bed in the corner of his baby brother’s room. His dad and mom used to take turns sleeping on that bed when his brother was teething an
d had trouble sleeping through the night in his crib. It hadn’t been used in a while, until now.

  Boy, they were really going at it. Griffin chuckled as he gave the monitor a shake in a futile effort to clear the feed. Who in the hell was that in there? The screen was small, so it was kind of hard to tell which of his friends had just hit the pussy jackpot. He turned up the volume.

  “Oh God, Ashton…” Griffin heard the voice loud and clear. It was his best friend, Quinn. He smiled for a second before it registered – did he say Ashton? Griffin balled up his fists. White hot rage permeated every cell in his body and he hissed in a raged breath to keep from passing out. His best friend was fucking his sister! It took everything he had not to go into that room and knock Quinn off of her. Rip his dick off and jam it down his throat. Punch the bastard into unconsciousness. How dare his best friend take advantage of his baby sister? That was the ultimate betrayal.

  Griffin jerked the baby monitor off the charger and tossed it against the wall, smashing it into tiny pieces. His best friend had just broken the number one rule of Bro Code! You don’t sleep with your best friend’s sister or girlfriend.

  Ever.

  Now Quinn had to pay.

  Chapter 1

  Ashton

  TEN YEARS LATER

  The ladies room seemed like the perfect place for me to gather up my courage and muster some kick-ass, psycho mumbo-jumbo in order to face the corporate suits waiting for me in the conference room. A little lip gloss, a little bullshit.

  Staring at the mirror, I recited over and over, “I’m smart, I’m a great negotiator, I don’t give up…and I am NOT going to puke all over the conference room this time.” I stuck my tongue out, the mirror reflecting my silly face right back at me.

  Dear God, I needed some makeup. Deep in my bag I found some nude gloss, a tube of black mascara, and some bronzing powder. Either this bathroom, with its soft yellow tiles and low lighting, made my skin looked sallow and washed out, or I needed a damn vacation. Probably the latter. Maybe somewhere tropical and warm where I could soak up the sun and get my tan on. But first, I needed to close this damn deal. The deal of the century. The career maker.

  My boss, Henri, had all the confidence in the world in me to get it done. He hadn’t even bothered to come with me to the meeting. No need for babysitting because everyone knew I excelled at everything I did. So what if my perfectionist tendencies and reputation as an alpha hard-ass had kept all the possible suitors away from me? Running like scared pussies with their hair on fire.

  Henri’s last words had been, “You’ve got this kid. Don’t let me down.”

  So if this deal did go through, I could be on my way to Tahiti or the Bahamas really soon. Deeply tanned skin, mojitos on the beach, cute cabana boys waiting on me hand and foot. The one night stand I desperately needed but never seemed to have time for because I was married to my career.

  Okay, Ashton, concentrate. You need to seal the deal. I slicked on the nude gloss and swiped some mascara across my lashes. A touch of bronzer and I thought I looked pretty damn good. My cosmetic armor. Like a sexy, deal-closing machine. Watch out, Ivanka Trump! I’m on my way to the big time! After today, I could afford one of her handbags.

  The makeup refreshed my face, but I was still standing in front of the mirror trying to convince my feet to take me out of the bathroom. My mind raced. If I were successful in negotiations, I would snag a huge bonus and possibly a promotion. Of course, I could always fail. There was always a real possibility I could lose the deal and cost my company millions of dollars of potential lost revenue. That thought made my stomach turn. Nope, not going to throw up.

  Tough. As. Nails.

  I chided myself for even thinking like that. I was not going to fail. I could practically manipulate the actions of the people on the other side of the table. Ten years of experience in negotiating deals will teach you that, and I had put in a lot of hard work to get where I was today. Fourteen hour days, six days a week for years. Drumming my fingers on the marble countertop, I took a deep breath and let it back out. I was determined to go back to the office with a win under my belt.

  The company that I worked for, TriStar Real Estate Investments, owned world-class restaurants, hotels, and office buildings around Atlanta. We were branching out to other states including Florida and North Carolina. I was employed as a real estate agent and it was my job to procure potential investment property to add to our already impressive real estate portfolio. I had ten years under my belt in assisting my boss in negotiating multi-million deals just like this one. It had earned me the nickname The Ashtonator around the office. Like a kick-ass, deal making machine.

  This particular real estate deal included buying a resort hotel and restaurant in Destin, a fairly small tourist town located on the coast of Florida’s panhandle. I had been to Destin before. My parents loved to vacation here, attracted by its clean, emerald waters and sugary white sands. But this time I was here to work. Not to laze around on the beach, sip tropical concoctions, and soak up the sun. Well, maybe later.

  Now, the problem with this deal was a difficult seller. There was a parcel of additional land he owned next to the hotel and restaurant. My boss wanted the vacant land to build a small shopping center to complement the amenities the hotel would offer its guests. The seller, of course, didn’t want to include that land in the deal. It was my job to convince him that it would be in his best interests to include it.

  I was given a number – our highest offer – that I could bring to the table to entice the seller to give us the land. These types of negotiations proved difficult to do over the phone, so Henri sent me, his ace, to Destin to close the deal in person. Lucky me.

  I checked my watch. It was go time. I looked over my lucky red Dolce & Gabana suit – according to my stylist, red was the color of power – that was tailored to fit my athletic frame. I ran a hand down the length of my skirt to smooth out any wrinkles and, checking my watch one last time, pointed into the mirror and in my best Austrian voice mumbled, “I’ll be back.”

  I didn’t want to be late for the meeting, but I certainly didn’t want to be early. This was a mind game I learned from Henri – you always wanted to be the last person to walk into the room, but you couldn’t leave them waiting. If you showed up too early, you gave the other person the power by looking too eager. If you showed up too late, it could cost you their respect. It was a delicate balance, but with practice it became easy to nail.

  My Jimmy Choo heels clicked on the Italian tile floor as I headed out of the restroom and to the lobby. The receptionist told me that everyone was ready and waiting so she led me to the conference room. I blew out one last nervous breath before I waltzed into the room with a confident attitude, destroying the butterflies in my stomach.

  At the head of the conference table sat Mr. Kyle Albertson, the owner of the property. He rose to his feet and shook my hand, which I received with my trademark photogenic smile. After exchanging the usual pleasantries, he turned to introduce the other man in the room. I didn’t pay much attention to him at first, but when I did, my heart stopped.

  Literally skipped multiple beats until I felt a whoosh as my blood rushed to catch up.

  No fucking way.

  My mind defaulted to the worst possible scenario. I was being set up. This was a cruel joke. Why else would Quinn fucking Andrews be in the same room as my difficult client, Mr. Albertson? I looked around the room for hidden cameras, waiting for my older brother, Griffin, to spring up from his hiding place and yell “Gotcha!”

  Instead, Mr. Albertson simply laid his hand on my arm and asked with concern in his voice, “Are you okay, Miss Jansen?”

  “I thought I saw a ghost,” I whispered.

  Once I regained my composure, I nodded to reassure the man before he thought I’d gone bat-shit crazy and tanked the pending negotiations. Quinn walked over to me and held out a hand. My entire body was numb, but I managed to stuff my clammy hand in his and shake it.

 
“Ashton Jansen,” I squeaked.

  Quinn, however, was unfazed. He turned his attention to Mr. Albertson and said, with what I swore was a stifled chuckle.

  “Miss Jansen and I have known each other since we were kids. I don’t think she was expecting to see an old friend today. Hence, the startled reaction.”

  What? I didn’t need him to protect or defend me.

  “You’re…” I couldn’t finish my sentence.

  My mind was still in denial that my childhood crush, the guy who took my virginity and trampled my heart, all in the same night, stood before me like some kind of unwelcome blast from the past. I had skillfully avoided this guy for ten years, which had been a difficult task since our families still stayed in touch.

  It took great effort on my part to ignore anything that had to do with Quinn. Every time there was an event for my family to attend that involved even the most remote possibility of running into Quinn, I had an out. An ironclad excuse. Yet here was proof that I couldn’t outrun him forever.

  “My law firm is representing Mr. Albertson in the deal,” he said.

  Was he talking to me? His eyes darted around the room but never settled anywhere long enough for me to know for sure.

  I’d heard from my mother that Quinn had gone to Harvard Law and then passed the bar exam with flying colors. Always the triple threat. Good looking, smart and charming. Except when he lied like the fucking dog he was. The part she’d neglected to tell me was that he’d moved to Florida.

  Quinn Andrews. Bastard extraordinaire. Debaucher of virgins and breaker of fragile hearts. One thing I could say for sure about Quinn, he still looked hot enough to make my heart go pitter-patter. Which pissed me off so badly steam started to rise off my pasty white skin.

  His eyes were still ice blue, and his dimples had not lost their ability to melt a girl’s heart when he smiled. Except this particular girl now had a brick wall around hers that rivaled the work of a thousand masons. He’d finally cut his long hair, but there was still enough to thread my fingers through. Those Benedict Arnold fingers twitched at the very thought. I shook my head to eradicate it.