Dear Mr. Black,
I know you were hurting. I heard your cries. I wished over and over again that I could make it better, but as you stated I was too inexperienced; too good for someone as bad as you.
Perhaps you were right, but it didn’t matter because what I did know was that I loved the way you felt—loved the way you smelled. I loved how hard you got for me, and when you called me your Little Knight.
I can still remember that day in the park, when you held me close and kissed me deep. How you effortlessly made me cry your name on top of sweet smelling grass, making me feel like the only girl in the world. I loved how you looked at me, how you spoke to me.
I 'd been madly in love with you ever since I was twelve years old, but I shouldn’t have been.
Isabelle would have hated it—my best friend. I couldn’t afford to lose her. Besides, you two had already lost enough. Losing Mrs. Black was the epitome.
It’s Chloe Knight.
I wanted to be there for you no matter what, but Isabelle needed me too.
And she would have hated me if she ever found out I was sleeping with her father.
** Tainted Black is a forbidden love-story about a girl who helplessly falls for her best friend’s father. After a tragic accident ends the life of Theo Black’s wife, he turns to the one person he has always found interesting.
Chloe Knight, the girl from across the street, his daughter’s best friend, and a person that is considered completely off limits for him. **
I looked down at the person’s name that flashed on my screen. Mr. Black. Surprised, my heart caught speed, and I answered, my voice soft. “Mr. Black?”
“Hey Chloe.”
“Everything okay?”
“I don’t know,” he said, voice low. “You tell me.”
“What do you mean?”
“You just gonna stay in your room and watch me, or are you gonna come over and actually talk to me?”
I huffed a laugh, looking up, heat bombarding my cheeks. Being embarrassed would have been an understatement. “I’m—I don’t know what you mean.”
“Turn on your lamp,” he demanded.
“Why?”
“I want to see you.”
I looked towards my lamp, hesitating. He was quiet, waiting for me to follow through. I blew a breath, going for my lamp. Then I met at the window again, and he was still there. His expression had changed though. He was smiling now. It was gentle. Sweet.
“Damn. Is there ever a time you don’t look good?”
“Please,” I laughed, tugging on the hem of my tank. It was then that I realized I had no bra on. I covered my chest with my arm.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Cover up. Just stand there… let me look at you.”
Slowly dropping my hand, I stared ahead, allowing Mr. Black to get an eye-full. I was in my most natural state—hair up in a bun, shorts low, revealing too much leg, and sporting a white camisole that exposed firm, brown nipples.
“What are we doing?” I asked, voice barely heard.
He was quiet for a moment, his face serious now. “Picking up where we left off.”
New York Times & USA Today Bestselling author Shanora Williams considers herself a wondrous, down-to-earth author who's all about romance, paranormal, and the historical fiction. Coffee and Oreos are her addiction. Reading is a necessity. Whenever she isn't writing or reading, she's most likely spending her time with family and loved ones, or watching hit TV series on Netflix.
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