Knocking Boots (Sexy Standalone) Read online

  Knocking Boots

  A Sexy Standalone Contemporary Romance

  Willow Winters

  Vivian Wood

  Contents

  Author’s Copyright

  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

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Begging for Bad Boys

  More From Vivian Wood

  About Willow

  About Vivian Wood

  Join Willow’s Naughty List

  Join The Vixens

  Author’s Copyright

  Copyright Willow Winters & Vivian Wood 2017

  May not be replicated or reproduced in any manner without express and written permission from the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to author and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Prologue

  Charlie

  “Charlie...”

  Grace’s soft voice beckons me from across the hotel room as I shut the door. I pull at the knot in my necktie, loosening it before tossing it down on the floor. Through the dim light I can barely see as she scissors her legs under the stark white hotel comforter.

  I can hardly believe she wants me as much as she does. And what’s more, they all think she’s mine. Every one of those guests at my sister’s wedding thinks Grace belongs to me. Then again, the whole damn town is convinced she’s the next one to get hitched.

  They’re right about one thing. She’ll be screaming my name tonight. But the rest is all a lie.

  “Don’t make me wait anymore...” she pleads.

  Grace’s slender neck arches as she grips the comforter in her hands and groans out her words with a little pout on her lush lips.

  I’ve got her so worked up, my little sweetheart. But that wasn’t hard to do. I knew she wanted me. She doesn’t want to hold on to me, but she wants me for the night. Tonight, she’s all mine.

  Grace isn’t the kind of girl to wind up with a man like me. She’s got her life planned out. She wants the whole nine yards, and in less than a year.

  She wants a picture-perfect family and a white picket fence, and that’s not a life I’m ready for. Not now. Maybe not ever.

  I can see Grace wearing a white dress. A wedding dress. I bet she’d wear one of those big ass gowns. I can just see how the dress would move around her long, shapely legs.

  The thought of her walking down the aisle to someone else, a man other than myself, pisses me off. I feel the anger rising in my heated blood. But there’s no way in hell I’d be that man she’s walking toward. Both of us know that. I have Grace for tonight, and that’s all that matters.

  This was a drunken deal we made. Our flirtatious natures, getting out of hand. She promised to come and pretend to be my girlfriend, to keep my family off my back.

  I slip off my shirt, and start undoing my belt. She turns onto her side and looks at me through her long lashes, her eyes shining with lust.

  “I want you, Charlie.”

  Fuck. I can’t take her whispering my name like that. Like just the taste of my name on her lips is all she needs to cum.

  Or maybe I’m just imagining it. Maybe all this is in my head, because I want to think that hooking up somehow means more to her now.

  It wasn’t supposed to be anything serious.

  It was just a date. Just a release. All this was only for fun.

  And I know after tonight, she’ll be long gone.

  As the bed groans with my weight and I bend down to kiss the soft skin on the tender side of her neck, I can’t help thinking she feels so right. So perfect in my arms.

  I pull back the comforter, revealing the lacy negligee she's wearing, and watch a beautiful pink blush travel up her chest and into her cheeks.

  “What’s this?” I ask her with a cocked brow. My dick twitches with the need to get that lingerie off of her and onto the floor. I want what’s underneath.

  She bites down on her bottom lip. She tries to throw back one of those smart ass responses she’s always got for me, but she can’t. My lips are on hers before she gets a single word out.

  Her fingers spear into my hair and she deepens the kiss, wrapping her legs around my hips. She moans into my mouth.

  This is dangerous. I’m fucking addicted. I swear, it wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

  But as I stare down at her beautiful face, her lips parted and her gorgeous baby blues half-lidded, I know this isn’t just a good time anymore.

  I’m not the type of man she wants. We both know that. I don’t have what it takes to keep her.

  But damn… I want to.

  Chapter 1

  Grace

  “It’s not the worst news, but I know it’s not what you wanted to hear. Honestly though, Grace, there are tons of options when you start looking at freezing some of your eggs,” Dr. Abrahams tells me. She smiles at me, brushing a strand of gray hair behind her ear.

  I look up at the wall behind her, which is plastered with pictures of a thousand babies that Dr. Abrahams has helped other women conceive. The photos are framed with pink and blue paper and look festive. I should be more thankful; she’s just told me my eggs are still viable, after all. But she’s given me news that a woman at my age shouldn’t be getting. Premenopausal isn’t a word I ever thought I’d hear.

  It’s not all lost yet, but if I don’t act soon, my chances for having children are just gone. Even now, without IVF, the odds are slim to none.

  I’m thirty. So… I’ve got to meet someone, and get him to propose. That’s a year and a half, optimistically. Then I convince him to have kids, with expensive medical help. They say that people who wa
it at least three years before tying the knot stay married longer, so that’s three years longer I’ll have to wait. Then there's conception and gestation… and the birth, of course.

  That’s more than five years and thousands of dollars, assuming everything goes perfectly. If the IVF works on the first try. I look up at the wall of photos, which seem to be mocking me.

  “Grace,” Dr. Abrahams says gently, reaching across her desk to touch my hand. “Did you hear me? I have some pamphlets here for the fertility preservation clinics I recommend.”

  She pushes some brightly colored brochures at me and smiles. I bite my lip and try not to cry.

  “Okay?” My answer comes out as a question, rather than any kind of statement. This isn’t at all what I expected from my checkup. To say I’m shocked is an understatement.

  “We have your follow-up visit scheduled,” the doctor says absently, clicking the keys on her computer and staring at the screen, “so you’re all set.” She finally looks at me with a smile.

  I can’t return it as I nod my head. A follow up in a few days to see how bad it is. How bad. Not if it’s okay. But how bad.

  “If you have any further questions, don’t hesitate to call, okay?”

  I manage a smile, nodding. She stands and tells me to have a good day, but all the while my body seems to move on its own. A nurse in hot pink scrubs whisks me out to the reception area.

  “Have a nice day, Miss Campbell,” she tells me, winking before she turns to call her next patient amongst the women seated there. “Mrs. Gray? Shellie Gray?”

  “Here!” A woman in her early forties pushes herself to her feet. “I’m coming.”

  I drift out of the woman’s way, and then the nurse closes the door behind them both. I take a deep breath, giving myself a mental shake, and head out to the parking lot.

  My mind is awhirl with thoughts, most of them depressing. I climb in my white Honda Civic and put my seatbelt on. As soon as the car is on, I turn the radio off, leaving just the hum of the car to accompany me before pulling out of the parking lot. Luckily, the downtown Atlanta traffic is just as heavy as my thoughts.

  As I sit in traffic on I-85, I stare at the Atlanta skyline. The sun is already beginning to set against the buildings. I sigh. The city was so fun when I was in college, and a great place to be when I was a recent graduate looking for my first serious job.

  Now I have a steady, long-term career as a graphic designer in Buckhead. But more and more often, I find myself driving to the suburbs outside the perimeter. My cramped apartment in Candler Park gets left behind for the easy, laidback lifestyle of Vinings, just outside the city’s perimeter.

  Come to think of it, I haven’t even been at my apartment for more than sleep or a shower in ages. I haven’t been anywhere in the city, really. The nightlife doesn’t call to me anymore. I basically live at work, and that’s it. If I do have time once work is done, the one place I want to go to is on the outskirts of the city. This apartment doesn’t make me want to come back home. I need something more peaceful. Somewhere away from the high traffic and noises of the nightlife that the city brings. But the thought of moving is just one more stressor to deal with.

  At the moment, all I want is a drink to finish this day. And I know just where I want to have that drink — at the hole-in-the-wall bar my friend Diane showed me about a month ago. Mac's bar has a jukebox and plenty of places to sit, and unlike the other bars in Vinings, it serves liquor as well as beer.

  Just thinking about it has me parched. Well, that and the bartender, Charlie.

  Charlie.

  The traffic finally frees up, and I’m quick to engage the turn signal and get off at the next exit to drive toward the bar. Maybe Charlie will make me one of his fancy drinks tonight. That thought puts a smile on my face.

  I jump out of the car in the parking lot of Mac's Tavern, and look at my reflection in the side of the car. Brilliant blue eyes lined with kohl, long waves of copper-colored hair, and a cute upturned nose greet me. If I was nitpicky, I’d say that my eyes are a little too big, that my lips are too wide.

  But I’m trying to get away from that kind of thinking. I tug my pale yellow skirt down and undo a button on my collar. There’s no one to impress inside Mac's, so it’s time to get comfy.

  After fluffing my hair once, I lock my car and head inside. The place is an old brick building, plain and short. Stepping inside is like a breath of fresh air, if you crave an ancient wood bar along one side of the room, plenty of stools and chairs and tables, and a small dance area. It’s dimly lit, but that’s just fine by me.

  The sound of the pool table in the back and the chatter of people at the bar greet me.

  I realize as I make my way into the bar that I'm smiling. There’s something about this place that does that to me. There are about a dozen people sprinkled throughout the bar, mostly just enjoying after-work drinks.

  I walk right over to the bar and sit down at the very end. It’s my seat. I look down the bar. The area behind the bar is empty; I wonder where the bartender is. There’s one special guy who could make today complete… if he’s working, that is.

  Then a back door swings open, revealing him. Charlie, the owner of this bar.

  He’s tall and broad-shouldered, with light brown hair cropped close to his scalp. He’s wearing a blue plaid shirt and jeans, but that doesn’t stop me from staring at his rippling muscles as he moves a stack of heavy-looking boxes behind the bar. Along with a jawline made for women to swoon over and twin brows that raise and lower with every emotion, he’s got a nose that’s just too perfect. It fits too well with his physique.

  I bite my lip and blush. I know Charlie isn’t for me, really I do. I literally just found out that my time is running out to form a real connection with someone. It’s just… well, Charlie is hot.

  The kind of hot that might keep a girl up at night, wondering just what’s under those jeans. Wondering if he’s as stacked as you hope he is…

  If the other girls hanging around and looking at him wistfully are anything to go by, Charlie’s packing some serious heat. Then again, none of those girls have managed to nail him down.

  And none of them were walking around, thinking of baby names in their spare time. Yep, I need to keep my hands to myself. My eyes, however…

  I sigh as Charlie turns and sets the boxes down, giving me a peek at his ass. It's perfect, nice and round. I swear, I never even noticed things like that before I met Charlie.

  I chew my lip as I lean forward just a hair. I wonder if he does a lot of squats at the gym, or if his bubble butt is natural.

  He turns around and sees me looking. “Hey, stranger.”

  I blush deep red, because I forgot the most stunning thing about Charlie: his eyes. They’re a kind of moss green color, something straight out of National Geographic.

  “Hey,” I manage, breaking off eye contact. I realize that my crush on Charlie is all it will ever be, a crush. I need to stop being such a weirdo.

  I make eye contact again.

  “Where have you been? It’s been a whole week since I’ve seen your face around here,” he teases.

  “Oh. Just work,” I say with a shrug. “You know, the usual.”

  “Yeah?” he says, grabbing a towel and wiping off his hands. “That’s it, huh?”

  “That’s it.”

  His voice drops as he leans against the bar. “Nothing interesting to report?”

  Somehow, he manages to make that sound filthy. God help me.

  “Nope.” I push my hair back off my shoulders, feeling a little hotter than I should.

  “Too bad. I was looking forward to you telling some tales.” He looks down the bar and sees someone he knows, and nods to them. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Umm… just a glass of white wine.”

  “You got it.”

  He moves down the bar to fulfill my order, and I nearly groan to see him go.

  Yeah, it’s safe to say that I’m holding a bit of a
torch for him. I know he’s not what I want — he’s hot, but completely allergic to commitment. It’s why I’ve never touched him. He has no intention of settling down. Still, there’s no law against looking, is there?

  I rest my chin on my hand and sigh to myself.

  Chapter 2

  Charlie

  Well, my day just got a whole lot fucking better. Grace is one of my regulars, and a favorite customer. It helps that she’s hot as hell. I smirk as I fill the glass of white wine and set the bottle back on ice behind the bar.

  “Charlie,” Mickey calls out to me.

  I give him a nod, grabbing a tall glass and throwing the handle for the Guinness back to get Mickey another. He’ll be here all night, staring up at the college games on the televisions above me.

  I slide him the beer, scooting it across the bar top. I’m half tempted to ask him where the hell his nephew is, but it’s not like he’d know. It’s a damn small town and bringing up business to Mickey isn’t going to help any. He’s a retired cop, and his wife passed away not too long ago of cancer. I’m not going to give him a hard time 'cause his nephew doesn’t have a clue what work ethic is.

  “Thank you, sir,” Mickey tells me, grabbing his beer. He doesn’t even look away from the game on television.

  “Charlie!” Maggie calls out from behind me. She swings the doors to the back open and walks through as she throws on her apron. Thank fuck she’s here.

  “Is the kitchen all set?” she asks. She puts her arms around her back, tying a knot to the apron.

  “Yeah, it should be ready for you,” I tell her, grabbing the glass of wine for Grace. I try to fight back my agitation.

  James is really looking to be fired. I’ve absolutely had it with him getting drunk after closing and not showing up the next day. He’s young and stupid. I know what that lifestyle is like, since I used to be just like him, but I’m sick and tired of putting up with his shit.

  I’m fucking exhausted, and the night’s just getting started. But that’s what this business takes. Hard work and dedication. It’s not what I thought it’d be when I opened a bar at the outskirts of town. I know part of the reason I did it was to get away.