My Sweet Temptation

By S.N. Garza

Tempting me to sin and sinning never tasted so sweet.
My name is Axel, and this is my story of how I became his. Only his. And how I desperately wanted him. He walked in when I least expected it and turned every one of my doubts to ash. He made me burn. He made me ache. He made my body surrender to his every command.
Until he made it impossible for me to stay. But no matter how far I ran, Rhett was still there in the back of my mind. He cheated on me. Our relationship ran so hot and passionate until I heard him over the phone with another woman. He denied it until he was blue in the face, but I heard him. I had proof. My own ears. So I left.
I still loved him. I was desperately drowning with the desire to believe him until that one phone call shattered what was left of my heart. Leaving him is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. To remain strong for the life he left inside me, I need to keep breathing. Keep holding on to the love we shared. Until someone found me. But maybe, I was just unlucky that way.
Had it all been a misunderstanding? Could I let Rhett back in and save me? Or am I just doomed to fail, over and over again?
Or will I find exactly what I've been looking for?

• Language: English
• Publisher: S.N. Garza
• Release date: Jul 11, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311309426

S.N. Garza

I am a 37 year old wife and mother of two who lives in a small country town in southeast Texas. I work during the day at Chilis Bar and Grill. I write dark, deeply emotional stories weaved with erotic romance that leaves you wanting more. My debut novel is Love Came Back & my best selling book & series, is The Billionaire’s Baby, book one in my Nauti Billionaires of Houston series. It is all sexy passion with an alpha hero who’ll sweep you off your feet.

Book preview

1

Another day, another dollar. I started my shift grumpy as hell. I was late. I hated to be late and when I walked in the restaurant door, my manager just had to state that fact. Uh, I knew I was fucking late, you retelling me doesn’t make me any earlier.

I understood, because it was a Wednesday afternoon, and I was supposed to be on ten minutes ago. Our slowest server was getting hammered all by himself. And it wasn’t really even that busy. The guy had six tables. Pfft. I could handle that with one eye closed. Asshat.

I couldn’t help that. My rusty, busted-up car finally broke down after six years, on top of the ten years from its manufacturing date. I had to finish walking the rest of the way to work. Thank God it was only a fifteen minute walk from my car to here. It still made me late though. I grabbed everything from my car, even though there wasn’t much. Just my purse which had my apron, wallet, iPod, and one of my favorite historical romance book, The Prize by Brenda Joyce.

The last foster home I stayed in felt sympathetic and helped me get a used car. Told me if I treated it right, it would keep running. I did take care of it, because it had been my home for a year after I moved out.

If you could even call it moving out. I was eighteen and the government stopped sending the family checks. And since I wasn’t really one of their children, I was obviously taking up usable space. I couldn’t afford to live anywhere, and the courts told me I was an adult, so that didn’t help in any way whatsoever.

I figured fuck the system, shit sometimes just didn’t work in favor of girls down on their luck. What else was I supposed to do? I made decent money, but not enough to cover the check they got and that’s what they wanted. The money.

Once I had gotten a job, I was suddenly paying rent, buying my own laundry detergent, food and my own necessities. They only helped me out when I needed a car and they said it was a graduation slash birthday present. I paid half and got me a little four grand car. Too many miles on it but hey, it was mine. My little Toyota Camry worked for a very long time considering it was ancient to begin with but up until the past few months had been working normal. Then little things started happening. And I couldn’t afford to get it fixed.

Anyway. How come I lived in the system? The foster homes? My mother died in a horrific accident and my father? Well, who the hell knew who he was? Just some sperm donor is what I figure. Never met the guy and now that I was all grown up? I didn’t give a shit. I had my own life. It was whatever you know? I was an adult. I’m over any mommy-daddy issues. I didn’t have them. Although I missed my mother. I missed her more than I could bear sometimes.

You’re late, Axel-grease.

I was shaken out of my reverie when the most irritating voice captured my attention.

God. Not this jerkface. I hated this guy. He was the slowest server ever and I could see why the manager got in my face about being late.

I swung my purse under the main micros cubbyhole where all the girls kept their purses and hurried to tie my apron. I ignored jerkface, yeah he had a name, but jerkface sounded so right and I was lucky enough to never have had him as a partner.

Gag. I’d have to kill myself if that ever happened.

One. My car broke down. Two. Aren’t you like over thirty? Grow a pair, grow up, shut up and do your job.

I didn’t stay to hear anything else he had to say. Yes, we were co-workers, but this guy grated on everyone’s nerves, not just mine.

I walked to the host stand and got my section. I already had two tables, and I started my night.

⌘

I was glad it was mid-fall that my car finally decided to die. The weather was actually not so bad. Houston, you never know about the weather. Sometimes it sucked balls, and then sometimes, like today, it was beautiful and breezy. I lived in Downtown Houston, over in The Heights area.

When you think, I thought this chick was poor, well yeah I was, but I had been living in this area for most of my life and there was this old lady who had a garage apartment she wanted to rent. Luckily, I only had to pay four hundred dollars a month. For me, that was a steal. It was only one bedroom, one bathroom, one living room and kitchen. Basically a middle-sized open space but it was perfect for me. It wasn’t like I had friends. God, that made me sound like a loser, but I loved my solitude.

Up tall rickety stairs and passed the threshold there was the small living room. Big enough for a love seat. I had a basic black futon from Walmart and because Mrs. Manning said I needed color, a few days after I got the futon I went to the dollar store and got two red and black chevron pattern pillows and chunked them on the couch. She had shook her head, but hey. That was the only splash of color I needed. The small kitchenette was to the right where a small stove, refrigerator, one tub sink with about a three foot counter space. Barely enough for the mini-microwave I had, but I couldn’t complain.

Not that I had many dishes—or dishes at all. I used paper plates and plastic ware from Chili’s that I wash and reuse. It’s not like I had people over. I didn’t cook often or much. If I could, I brought food from work home.

Then about eight feet forward from the front door, there’s an open doorway that I placed strings of beads—hey, don’t judge. It gave me some privacy—that led into my bedroom where I had two twin size mattresses in the corner on the floor. Yeah, I couldn’t a bed frame, but I didn’t need one anyway. I had a plastic three drawer set that held my panties, socks and night shorts in the top, regular t-shirts in the middle and my shorts and leggings in the bottom. My work clothes and jeans I hung up in the minuscule open doorway closet.

The one thing that mainly occupied this room was my book shelves. That is what I spent the rest of my free extra money on. I loved to read. It started when I was about twenty-one. I had gotten off work, needing a new belt since the one I had was so overused it snapped apart, when I went to Walmart. When I walked past the magazines rack, I saw Taylor Swift, larger than life on the front—that girl had all her shit together—and as I looked down the row of other magazines, I saw books of naked, male chests.

Lora Leigh was my introduction to romance. Her breed series was amazing. I was hooked and I will admit, if I spent money on anything—it was books. I had three shelves of books. Yeah. I was something of a romance book slore. It was the only way I escaped my own head sometimes. I could get the kindle app on my iPod—but there’s no Wi-Fi here so I didn’t bother—that and I knew I’d be spending more money than I had to buy books. I might end up becoming a one-click addict. And right now, that wasn’t in my cards. So I bought a few paperbacks, which turned into a dozen more which turned into what I had today. Not many but I had a nice little collection of books. I reread the ones I had…a lot.

To the right of the room was another doorway strung with beads to the bathroom. Just a simple tub, an old claw foot tub with hanging shower—but it was huge. I loved the tub. And of course, the average toilet and sink with a small medicine cabinet above. I didn’t have much, but this was my home. I had my iPod, a small nineteen inch TV, a DVD player, and a small set of movies that I kept in a CD case. Who had room for those rectangle cases? I just tossed those out. Too much clutter.

It was a thirty-six foot by thirty-six food garage apartment. Tiny, but I didn’t mind. It was in walking distance to work, well a forty-five minute walking distance, but I never minded the walk. I had plenty of music to listen to on the way. That was another vice of mine after books. I loved music.

I also took the free self-defense classes from Wolfe’s gym in the neighborhood so I didn’t really worry about prowlers. Thank God this was a low crime area. And the walking kept me in some kind of shape. I was an hour-glass figure kind of girl. Wide hips, thick thighs, and while my waist wasn’t tiny, it was cinched that gave me those curves and my breasts were a solid D-cup. No amount of exercising got rids of the curves; it only enhanced them.

Tonight I decided to stay for the girl who was scheduled to close tonight—who was I kidding. I needed money. And I was hungry, while it was slow I could get one of the cooks to make me something. They loved the girls that worked here. Fucking pervs.

Since there was only one hour until closing, we were dead. I sent the other closer home after she did her side work. Then there was just me, the hostess and the bartender. It was a slow Wednesday night when most customers just sat at the bar top.

I told Jackie, our hostess, I was going to finish up in the back and call me if I got another table.

I just finished wiping down the line when she came to the back and said, Guy at table 62, and he’s like, super-hot. Jackie’s green eyes were wide and a blush stole over her cheeks.

This girl was seventeen, so I imagine a lot of guys could be hot in her mind. Especially when a girl says it ‘he’s like, super-hot’. I don’t ever remember talking like that when I was a kid. I washed my hands and made my way out to the table. My head was down and I pulled out my notepad and pen from my apron.

Then I looked up and said, "Hi, my name is—

Holy. Shit. Super-hot had nothing on this guy. He was uber-hot. Like OMG he shouldn’t even be in this dump but at some expensive exclusive joint in LA or New York, not here in Houston at Chili’s Bar and Grill. And here I am, saying like, like some high schooler. UGH! But he was panty-burning hot. I was not unaffected. My stomach tightened with need as heat burned between my legs and I just knew my panties were becoming wet.

The guy looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties, midnight black hair that was shorn on the sides, with his hair slicked back but now greasy or oily. Just lazy enough as if he’s run his fingers through it so many times that’s the permanent hold it hand. He had a strong, square jaw, high cheek bones, and flawless olive skin. And I just knew it wasn’t a spray on or fake tan. This was his natural skin tone. Made him look almost exotic. His lips were bow shaped. I would kill for those lips. They were full on bottom, a little smaller on top. A straight nose between eyes that were gray. Almost silver. Cat-like yet wide. Intense. Fuck me.

And that was just his face. Looking further down, he had broad shoulders that I knew he just had to work out for. His torso wasn’t puffed out like some body builder, but he was muscular and lean in his navy blue suit jacket and his starched white shirt that was almost blinding with a matching navy blue tie. Tie me up with that thing anytime. Hey, I’ve read FSOG. A girl could dream, right?

I couldn’t see the rest of him since it was hidden beneath the booth, but jeez-o-Pete. Just looking at him made my body respond like it never had before. I felt my panties dampen with arousal and I shifted so I wouldn’t look so uncomfortable in front of this guy.

Your name is what, little girl?

The. Fuck? That voice. A shiver ran up my spine at the deep timbre. My nipples tightened in response, aching across the crappy fabric of the bra.

My eyes snapped back up to his and he had on a wickedly sexy smirk with sharp white teeth that told me he knew I was checking him out and practically drooling. Which of course I was. Hellooooo? Uber-hotness right in front of me. I was reduced to gaping at the guy and the lustful thoughts in my head were spinning around and around in circles. Eat me. Lick me. Fuck me. Take me. That’s what this guy made me think of. A really, really hot night burning up sheets.

His eyebrows lifted and I rushed to answer.

Answer him, idiot.

Axel. My name is Axel, welcome to Chili’s. My voice came out thick and hoarse. Get a fucking grip, Axel.

I knew my face was flaming red with mortification. I wanted this guy. Just a few seconds looking at him, and I knew if he asked me to sleep with him, I’d say yes. That or I was in need of sex. Like yesterday. Well, actual sex. I had a vibrator. Not the same thing. But this guy? I bet he knew how to fuck a chick’s brain out.

STOP IT!

Guys like this do not come in here that often, and the way he was looking at me right now, especially a girl like me, was like he was ready to eat me alive. Yes, please.

His eyes were on the hunt like a lion. With raw, carnal lust. I saw his grey eyes darken to the color of gunmetal. He was making my knees weak and I could feel my skin sensitizing as he looked me over, giving me the same perusal in which I looked at him with. Then to think, I’m in my standard Chili’s uniform of blue denim jeans, dark grey—ha! Like his eyes—colored shirt with the Chili’s logo on my left breast. I had all three buttons of the shirt undone. It was stuffy in the back, and God knows when they are going to fix the stupid-ass air conditioning. It wasn’t as if I as baring my tits to the guy, but there was just a hint of cleavage visible to him.

The booth was on higher ground and at my shortish five foot five, he was able to see the soft line of my boobs smashed together. Hey, I can’t help the cheap bras at good old reliable Walmart did this to them. I couldn’t afford the prettier or the more right size contraptions. This was it. Not that I cared. Screw propriety. As he took me in, I felt his eyes accessing every curve of my body before finally every line on my face.

You look tired. You should go home and get some rest.

Fuck. Me. That voice was made for hot nights and cool sheets. That deep, southern drawl skirted over my body, making gooseflesh pop over my skin. I didn’t know anyone with a drawl that thick. It was like honey and I was a motha-fucking-desperate bee.

He only said those two small lines, but I wanted to get closer. I didn’t though. I wasn’t that bold.

I don’t think so, sir. Wishful thinking does not pay the bills. Fuck. I shouldn’t have said that. He didn’t need to know that. "Sorry. I didn’t mean to—

He held his hand up to stop me from speaking. "It’s okay, Axel. That’s a very unique name. Did your parents have a thing for the band Guns N Roses?"

Honestly, I don’t know. Never knew my dad and my mother died when I was very young. What can I start you off with to drink? Our Presidente Margarita?

Sorry to hear that, little one.

My name is Axel.

He didn’t say anything just then, just raised his brow at me with this smirk twisting on his lips. Sexy beast. I shouldn’t like that, but this man just set me on fire. Or at least my panties.

No to that drink, give me a Jack and Coke on the rocks. I’ll take a Rib-eye, medium.

Would you like the original sides, the loaded mash potatoes and broccoli?

"Yes, Axel. That’ll do just fine."

After that, I went to put in his order, and while I waited for his drink, I finished up the back line. When I brought out his drink, I had two more tables. The whole time I was taking care of the other tables, I felt his eyes following me everywhere I went. I had to admit, I really liked that. I didn’t think I was ugly. I knew I was attractive, but usually not to mean like this. The men that usually looked like this guy filled his time with hot little bunnies with slight curves and tiny waists. Probably who worked out just as much and kept trim and toned.

Ha. Never gonna be this girl. I loved to eat when I did. And since I usually ate food from here, I ate a lot of fried foods. Sometimes the grilled chicken but that can get old after a while.

Guys didn’t pay me any attention. Especially ones with good looks like he had. I know how I looked after a seven hour shift, too. Not pretty. My ponytail was drooping by now and what little make-up I had on had worn off. But his eyes stayed focused on me though; like a panther. Assessing me with his molten gaze.

My breasts begun to feel tingly and heavy. My nipples hardened to sharp points, painfully rubbing against the cotton of my bra now. When I went to the back for his food, I ended up drinking a half glass of ice water to cool my burning insides. No one has ever looked at me like I was a meal. And I know I should probably be offended by the way he was probably looking at me like an easy piece of ass but damn it if I wasn’t looking at him the same way. Pathetic. But that way the truth. Mmmm…if only. While my pussy was screaming words like I bet he could eat you like a ravenous beast to shove that hard dick into, it wasn’t who did the thinking. I wasn’t a slut. I had principles. Mostly.

I brought out his food, he said thank you and when I asked if he needed anything else, his eyes grazed from my hips, pausing at my breasts--so he now knows my nipples are hard, great—where—holy fuck me shit—his tongue darted out, tracing his lips slowly, making me wish his mouth was over a nipple sucking it deep into the hollow of his mouth. Tugging at my nipple with his teeth until his mouth traveled down—ugh. Gutter brain much?

I shifted my body because my pussy was getting saturated with my juices under his unwavering gaze. He noticed the movement and the sexy bastard smirked.

You alright there, little one?

Was I? No. I was not alright. I wanted to hurry up and get the hell out of here. I couldn’t wait to get home now. I wanted to get home and take care of the burning ache this guy caused with my rabbit vibrator. The clit stimulator, when used just right, made a girl come like she’s never come before. The myth of ‘squirting’? Well, not so much myth when used properly. But I couldn’t very well let this dude know what I was planning so I tried my best to look unaffected before I spoke.

Of course I am.

I walked to my other tables, asking if they needed anything before going to the back, which of course I had to pass his table unless I wanted to make my awkwardness obvious which would only be embarrassing. And I knew I had what looked to be a half-painful, half-psycho smile on my face before turning and taking care of the other tables in my section. After making sure the other guests were fine, I started cleaning and stocking my station. I had to lean over the tables, or get into the booth so I could grab the salt/pepper shakers and then sugar caddies so I could fill them up and replace the ketchup bottle if need be. I felt him. I felt my body become aware of him. I had a ten table section so when I leaned over the table I felt him staring right at my ass. I was not trying to hit on the guy or lead him to stare at me, I was cleaning my tables. But I couldn’t help squeezing my legs together to try and keep my pussy from drenching my panties even more. And I just know he knows. That internal instinct.

After a while, my other two tables paid out and left and that guy was still there. His eyes ever constant on my figure like I was a done deal. If he looked at me in any other way besides interest, I didn’t care. Hell if I hadn’t ever seen him before, I would have thought he was a stalker. Looking at this GQ, sexy-as-fuck guy, who was probably well off, there’s only way guys like him see me as. Easy pickings. But since I’ve never seen him in here before, and trust me, I would have remember this guy, and if any of the other girls seen him, I know they probably would’ve taken a picture of him and how everyone. That’s the way it works sometimes. Chicks can objectify men just as easily. If this man had been in here before, I could tell he would’ve left a presence on any waitress that took take care of him. But nope. Not a peep.

So he was a first time guest at this location. And thank fuck I was the girl who got to wait on him. He was eye-fuckingly sexy. If I was the slut my pussy was thinking I am, I’d totally go wherever the hell he wanted and let him ride me like a pony. Corny but hey, a girl could only fuck herself so many times before she needs a real dick pounding into her eventually.

Down, girl. Not happening.

I finished up and realized we closed about ten minutes ago, and he was still there, taking another small sip of his second drink. I was also dead on my feet. Dreading the walk ahead of me. I went back up to him and offered him dessert nicely. Then I made the mistake of looking up into his searing gaze. By that look alone I could read the desire in his dark grey gaze.

His response? With heavy lidded, fuck-me eyes, he said, What kind of dessert you offering, little girl?

2

If he thought I would fall for that double entendre, he had another thing coming. I did think if he asked me to go home with him, I’d probably say yes. I got that horny just by his holding gaze. He flipped a switch in my body that said, ‘Rocket, you’re ready for takeoff. Go-go-go!’ but it wouldn’t be fair to my female pride not to try and play hard to get. If that was what he was thinking. I sure as hell wasn’t thinking about the dessert on the menus. But really? Come on. I wasn’t that stupid. Hottie McHotness was a stranger. Haven’t you ever heard of stranger-danger? My point exactly. But still. I was going to fuck myself silly at the image of his face.

So I gave him a list of our desserts instead and he chuckled. What if what I want for dessert isn’t on the menu?

Did he actually mean? I looked around to see if anyone was watching and thank god, no one was around right now. I felt my body heat with his stare. My body flushed with excitement. I knew my cheeks were probably stained with pink from his innuendo. And I felt bold. Fearless. Horny as hell. Flirtatious.

I already pre-bussed his table so I sat down across from him. What did you have in mind?

You.

I took a second and let that sink in, letting him think I was actually thinking about it. Then I let him down easy. I had a toy I could use when I got home. No man needed.

Ha. Look Hottie McHotness, I’m not the one night stand type of girl you’re looking for.

Oh my Jesus. I totally was the one night stand type of girl when I did get dick, but that hadn’t been happening lately. Too busy, too tired.

But this guy?

Sigh.

I’d have to be an idiot to say no to this guy. Especially if this guy was offering. My body was ready to throw itself at him. The whole time he was here, whether I was talking to the bartender, host or my other tables, if I was visible to him, he stared at me like I was his prey and he was going to pounce any minute.

Yeah, you can say it. I was being a total cock tease. But my head ruled and controlled over my body and definitely my pussy. Somehow, it told me this guy was the major leagues and I was barely entering the pee-wee level.

Hottie McHotness? I like that. You might not be a one night stand type of girl, but neither am I.

That made me laugh. I would hope you’re not a girl.

Very funny, Axel. I guess dessert is off the menu tonight then?

Yeah. I think it is. For now.

Cock tease remember? It felt like he was provoking me to be wicked.

I like that disclaimer. For now. Means you want me to come back.

Maybe. Look, we’re closed now, so I’ll have to say thank you for coming.

Not yet.

I’m sorry?

There was a sexy, deviant smile lifting on his lips.

Nothing. I enjoyed the steak, and the view, Axel.

He reached over and took my hand where it sat on the table. He lifted it from the table, turned my hand over. Then he brought it to his lips, and pressed his soft, firm mouth on the inside of my wrist. Kissing the blue veins softly. His lips weren’t dry, but they weren’t a sloppy mess.

I felt…marked somehow. He stained me with his lips. It was perfect. I was captivated. I was a complete fucking hormonal idiot.

I was never captivated by a hot, sexy-schmexy face. Body. Whatever. I didn’t get like this. No man has ever had such an effect on me.

Then Hottie McHotness stood, gave me a wink and walked away. Holy hell in hand basket. What the fuck was that?

He didn’t even let me finish thanking him for—oh! Dirty bastard. Why didn’t I catch that? Must be the lusty haze I had surrounded myself in. I picked up his glass, and walked to the back to get the Ziosk receipt from the IBM’s printer.

I could not tear my eyes away from the tip amount. His meal cost him about thirty bucks and he left me $200! As in, a two-hundred dollar tip! No. Way! That just—no way. Maybe he meant to just put twenty percent. That would be more logical. Besides, I gave him good service, not great and I turned him down on the one night stand-dessert thing.

I went to go turn in my check out and Dan, the manager that night, looked shocked to see such a large tip.

Don’t look at me! He paid on the Ziosk.

He looked at me, then the receipt.

He would have had to adjust the percentage himself to make it this high, so it’s not a mistake.

Great. If Hottie McHotness expected me to be all thankful just because he laid out a lot of green, he thought wrong. I might have subtly flirted with him and he was all hot and sexy and shit, but if he thought this was like some payment for anything we might do, Daddy Warbucks had it coming to him. A swift smack on the back of his gorgeous, ebony colored silky head. That is if he comes back. It was his first time in here, so that might mean he probably isn’t from around here.

Did he think he could buy me? If so, asshat. After collecting my money I said bye to Dan, grabbed a cup of water before saying bye to the cooks. I made my way out of the store, waving bye to the bartender, Alex.

That’s when reality hit me. Ugh.

I had to walk home. It was still nice outside, thank God, and just a little cool. Perfect for the trek home. There were plenty of street lamps to light my way home, and a few other bars that were open on the main street near where I lived.

The Heights was mainly filled with Victorian style homes. Most of them had really small rooms. I liked my small apartment though. The one thing the owner, an elderly lady named Mrs. Manning, told me, was that if I had visitors, be careful. She was really sweet and protective of me, I guess.

I’ve been living in that garage apartment for about five and a half years. It was comfortable and sometimes she would ask me to eat dinner with her at the main house. And of course I did. Poor girls like me will take a good home-cooked meal where she could get it. Not that I couldn’t cook. But my days were mostly filled with pop tarts, white cheddar popcorn, plain turkey sandwiches or whatever I brought home from Chili’s to eat.

As