An Enrapturing Attraction

By A J Walters

Christian Wilson reformed bad boy is released early from the Boston correctional facility. Re-entering the big, wide world is not only a shock to the system, but he also realises he isn’t the man he was. When his step-father Edward Sanders intervenes, Christian’s life is turned upside down. Being the ‘Black Sheep’ of the Sanders dynasty he has to prove to them and himself, he’s a changed man. Coming second best to his step-brother Marc Sanders, gives him enough determination to want to succeed.

Having moved to the US from the UK, Hannah Marshall has shown and proven what a strong, independent woman she is and she’s not had to rely on any man. However, family comes first and therefore Hannah takes the big decision to return home to Cambridge in England. Accepting a new job in The Met Police and leaving close friends behind, she begins what is a new life not without it’s ups, downs and surprises!

With Christian and Hannah not everything is as black and white as they seem, but when the two meet sparks fly!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jan 10, 2015
• ISBN: 9781326149116

Book preview

An Enrapturing Attraction

AN ENRAPTURING ATTRACTION

By

A J Walters

A J Walters

A J Walters is a contemporary romance author who made her first appearance on to the indie circuit with the release of An Acute Attraction. Having interests in history, romance and elements of erotica, she has brought all of these together in The Attraction Series. In this third and final book of the series A J wanted to delve more into the mystery and suspense side of writing.

A J currently lives in Staffordshire, England with her two children.

You can find A J on websites such as Facebook, Goodreads and Twitter.

Copyright (c) A J Walters, 2015

All right reserved

Front cover copyright (c) John Walters, 2014

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Books by A J Walters

An Acute Attraction (The Attraction Series #1)

A Constant Attraction (The Attraction Series #2)

Lust, Love, Dreams and Heartache (A book of romantic and erotic poetry)

ISBN: 978-1-326-14911-6

Dedication

To you the readers, if it wasn't for you wanting more from me, well I wouldn't be here now.

Happy reading.

Christian

The slam of the heavy-sprung door behind me was a stark reminder that I was free; however, throwing my grey canvas bag onto the all-too-familiar dirty brown couch, I felt anything but. The two smiling faces framed against the cream wall seem to follow me with their eyes as I make my way to the large windows of the apartment, as if they know this walk is very different to the ones I have taken over the last four years.

I'm no longer part of a chain gang, all of us wearing identical burnt orange boiler suits, joined together at our hands and feet, taking small, shuffling strides as one. Although the belongings in my bag are not many or expensive, they are mine. Once again I am an individual. The dark khaki pants, the tan V-neck sweater and the forest green top I’m wearing are all mine. Why is it, then, I still feel lost?

Needing fresh air I pick up speed and open the windows overlooking the Merrimack River. The stifling heat hits me full force. The aroma of city life fills every part of me as I take a deep breath in and slowly release it again. Holding on to the steel railings of the balcony, I throw my head back so the Massachusetts sun glares down on me. I close my tired eyes; it takes a moment or two to adjust to the exposure of the bright, natural light. The fluorescent lighting in the correctional facility was one of many harsh realities I had to learn to live with when I was sent away all those years ago.

Raking my fingers through my close-cut brown hair, a melting pot of feelings starts to find its way to the top. Despite having gone through a pre-release programme, I don't think anything can prepare you to take control of your life again. Suddenly being thrown out into the big bad world, with the roar of busy traffic ringing in my ears, the change in sights, smells and surroundings has become too much for me to take in. Where were the familiar sounds of inmates yelling abuse at one another, and the guards shouting at them to pipe down?

Me? I kept to myself, under the radar, not wanting any trouble. That didn’t mean to say I’d take any shit. I guess that attitude was passed on by my father, Edward Sanders, Attorney General for the state of Massachusetts. I’d heard he was recently re-elected, apparently very successful in the American political system. But to me, he was and still is a force to be reckoned with.

I suppose I should be grateful for having him for a father. Despite the shit hitting the fan when I was arrested, and everything that followed, he stuck around. I well and truly rubbed his face in it, yet he persevered, fought tooth and nail to keep what happened from being exposed to the entire country. Hell, for that matter, the whole world! I'm not crazy, I realise most of it was to cover his own ass; he had too much to lose if the truth came out.

I have to say, though, it helped me. I fucking dread to think what would have happened to me while I was in confinement if anyone had known about him. No, I definitely have something to be thankful for. When Dad’s investigation caught up with a detective who worked on my case, it was the icing on the cake to find out he was a dirty cop. The evidence he had planted on the scene, and at numerous other scenes, put so many guilty verdicts in jeopardy. I was reliably informed that twelve cases had to be re-opened. I wonder if those same men are looking up towards the same clear blue sky, thankful for when my father started the ball rolling.

After taking a couple of moments to pause and contemplate what was and what is now, I retreat back into the spacious living area. As I close the windows again, the high-pitched squeal from behind me causes me to nearly jump out of my skin.

Baby! Why didn't you tell me you were coming out this morning?

Before I have chance to turn to face her, the slender limbs of Laurel Jenson wrap around me in a vice grip. She kisses me full on the lips without warning, leaving me no time to reciprocate before she slaps me hard on the shoulder.

Christian Wilson. Why didn't you call me? You know I wanted to be there when you came out. You know it. Her long, slow southern drawl chips away at me.

I don’t dare tell her the real reason for wanting to do it by myself - to have time on my own, walking down the bustling streets of Haverhill, MA, truly alone for the first time in years. I couldn't face anyone and wanted to break myself in steadily, at my own pace. I know exactly what Laurel is like. She would have come to meet me with celebration balloons in hand. As I look over her shoulder, I'm proved right. On the back wall, there’s a long 'Welcome Home' banner covering most of the back wall, with two sets of helium balloons attached. I half expect to see the words 'You're Free!' printed on them, but I'm relieved to see they are just covered in gold, silver and purple stars.

I grab hold of her wrist to stop her from slapping me once more. Hey! You knew it would be today, but I didn't want to keep you from your cleaning regime. I haven't forgotten how obsessed...I mean 'hot on' you are with that routine of yours.

She frowns at my excuse and semi-joking slip of the tongue. I say 'semi' because the overwhelming smell of polish and bathroom cleaner filling the air only confirms what I said. Is it wrong of me to feel nauseous at the mixture of scents? They are almost alien to my senses, as is the touch of this woman I’m still holding in my arms. I realise I have a firm grasp of her small, pert buttocks, keeping her in place. Before being sent down I would have been so turned on by this I'd have thrown her back onto the well-used couch, stripped her naked of her tight grey leggings and black strappy gym top and fucked her right there and then, tasting every single part of her on my tongue. I'd have been rock hard, straining the material of my pants, eager for release; feeling a wanton need to be deep and hard inside her when she is slick and wet for me. Now I have none of those feelings. Being denied for so long should have had some effect on my sex drive, but this isn’t the one I expected. I cringe at the thought.

I set her down on her feet. Standing a good foot shorter than me, she glances up through her long eyelashes in confusion. She brushes her fingers along my three-day-old stubble and I remove her palm where it comes to rest. The connection we once had is gone. No spark, no energy, no lust...no love. Despite the eight year age gap, I once loved her; 'once' being the definitive word.

The 25-year-old girl facing me means nothing to me now. Hell, I don't mean that in a disrespectful or nasty way, it's like she has become a stranger, a distant memory. I realise that's not her fault. Sighing, I briefly shut my eyes and run my hands over my spiked hair.

Dammit, she’s given me four years of her life.

Guilt and the weight of a hundred bricks land straight on my shoulders. How did I not see this happening? Probably because I am a selfish asshole who has thought of no-one else other than himself for the past few years. The self-pity and loathing of everything around me meant everyone else was eaten up and spat out again. I can't have her touching such a man as this. I even disgust myself. What do I say, though, when I know her heart will be shattered into a thousand pieces? Whatever I decide to do, I'll be an ass for doing it.

Baby, you need to rest. I bet the anxiety and adrenalin rush from the day has exhausted you. I can tell by her tone she is looking for excuses for this sudden change in my demeanour.

Rubbing the tense muscles at the back of my neck, I step away from her. I need some distance to think about what I’m going to say that will make this easier. Fuck, who am I kidding? She's an emotional woman and I know this will kill her no matter what I say or how I say it.

Laurel... is the only word I can get out of my mouth before I hear the sobs.

No, Chris. Please don't do it. Turning back I watch her cover her mouth, trying to stifle any more painful cries from escaping. The bony structure of Laurel's face is made more apparent as her features become drawn and all of the blood is drained from her, leaving a grey, cold complexion behind. Not five minutes ago there was a glowing, excited young woman in my arms. All I see now is a quivering wreck and a shell of a woman that once was. Goddamn it! I fight the urge to punch my fist through the thin wall beside me. This is all my fault, I shouldn't have let it get this far. Had I really sought to look deep down, I'd have seen this was so wrong. It would have saved her from three years of torture at least. Fuck, Wilson! You really know how to screw a woman over good and proper. Taking a tentative step towards her, I take her hands in mine in a firm grip. I can't stop shaking.

Laurel, I really don't know where my mind is right now. Is that good for you? No. Should I have told you before? Damn right I should have. Does that make me a complete bastard? In the guide book for a decent man, most definitely.

Breathing in sharply and exhaling slowly, I know I cannot hold her any more. I know in my heart of hearts, really deep down, I was born bad and made the conscious decision to stay bad. Out of rebellion? Maybe. Or was I bored? Hell, it could have been because I got a thrill out of it. I can't decide; it probably was all three.

But I love you, she whimpered. I love you and need you, Chris. I've not known anyone or anything different. You also promised. Her pleading eyes bore into me, puncturing each vessel within me. I knew one day those words would come to haunt me. I just didn't think it would be so soon.

I release her delicate hands from my grip and they drop to her sides. The pained expression on her frail face tells me the exact moment her heart breaks.

I'm a different man, Laurel. One year can change even the best of people, so imagine what four years can do to the likes of me. I've regenerated so many times even I didn't recognise myself on occasion. I really don't know who I am anymore, but I do know that I'm not the Christian you saw disappear out of that court room.

Lines crease her forehead as she paces around the living room. The visits though, Chris! I never once saw any hint of what you’re saying to me now. Every month you were the same man I loved, and every month I had to leave you in that disgusting place you told me you loved me too. Her voice cracks as she says those last few words, and tears fall down her rosy cheeks.

For God's sake, Laurel! I didn’t know who or what I was in that place. Who’s to say that was me, the real me saying that? I could’ve been saying it just to please you. I don't mean to raise my voice but I need to get it across to her once and for all. It's harsh, but she needs to know the truth.

Just to please me, Christian? Her sobs become more intense and I pace over to where she has stopped in her tracks and take her into my arms, which could wrap around her slight figure twice. Softly smoothing the long blonde hair that cascades down her back, we stand together for what seems like eternity. No words are spoken. The initial lamented cry from Laurel lessens as I loosen my hold on her. Glancing down, gone is the appearance of a timid, lost soul as she wipes her damp cheeks and eyes. A look of resignation has replaced it. In spite of what I've said about being a changed man, I'm guessing she knows that once I make a decision I stick to my guns. There is no turning back; that would be a