Temptation: A Reverse Harem Romance Read online

  Temptation: A Reverse Harem Romance

  Kylie Parker

  J.L. Beck

  Edited by

  Ellen St Claire

  Copyright © 2018 by Kylie Parker

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination. Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18.

  Contents

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  Temptation: A Reverse Harem Romance

  1. Michael

  2. Michael

  3. Stacy

  4. Stacy

  5. Ray

  6. Ray

  7. Ray

  8. Stacy

  9. Ray

  10. Stacy

  11. Stacy

  12. Dean

  13. Dean

  14. Stacy

  15. Dean

  16. Dean

  17. Stacy

  18. Ray

  19. Stacy

  20. Ray

  21. Stacy

  22. Stacy

  23. Michael

  24. Michael

  25. Ray

  26. Stacy

  27. Ray

  28. Michael

  29. Stacy

  30. Stacy

  31. Stacy

  32. Michael

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  READER DEDICATION

  You’ll notice your free book gift has a special “Pink Ribbon” on the book cover.

  This is a special dedication to cancer patients world wide fighting the good fight.

  I’ve lost a lot with family, friends and strangers who have been impacted by cancer and this “Pink Ribbon” symbolizes our war cry to end this disease.

  I’ve written these books so we can get lost in something outside of real world problems.

  Now let’s ease the pain of cancer.

  Come get lost with me in this book and take up your “Pink Ribbon” as a war cry.

  Turn the page…

  -Kylie Parker

  Temptation: A Reverse Harem Romance

  Stacy:

  We decide to vacation in Crete because there are treasures to see, places to go, and men to do. I have only one “leave it in Vegas” rule: NO STRINGS ATTACHED.

  You’d think in Crete, I could easily find a Greek Adonis. The locals try, but can’t score with me. But an American romantic, playing his guitar on a star lit beach – can we say winner? Michael is the best one night stand ever. If only I could stay the night...

  My luck continues and I meet Ray – hollow-eyed, soul searching, heartbroken Ray – who needs someone’s help fixing him. I know I need to help distract him, to help him forget. So, I talk him into a date. I can help, and I do... Let’s just say we never find a room.

  When I meet a biker, Dean, my kind savior in disguise, I’m on a roll. How could I know I’d find three sexy Americans – New Yorkers – here in Crete?

  Then I hear Dean mutter a name....

  And I remember Michael mentioning the names of his traveling buddies.

  Suddenly, all I hear is the scream in my head, “What have I done?”

  1

  Michael

  “Forget the States this summer. We’re going to Greece, baby; to Crete. We’re talking three weeks of sunshine, golden beaches, lots of booze and sexy ladies.”

  Dean’s short statement in the spring didn’t exactly enthrall me. I am used to his bossy tone – I even like it sometimes – but going on an overseas vacation meant that he had to go through quite a lot of trouble. First of all, the plane tickets would cost us a small fortune. We could afford it; we had been saving up for months, but I wasn’t sure if it was worth busting my butt at work for almost a year.

  It is easy for him and Ray to decide to do this. Dean Ryan is a chef over at “Carlo’s,” a fancy, Italian restaurant in Manhattan, and Ray Carlton is a successful realtor. They don’t have to monitor servers all day long for a pittance the way I do. More than that, there is also the pain of getting a visa. And by “pain,” I mean the red tape and at least six weeks of waiting to get it. The interviews at the Greek consulate lasted more than an hour each. During some moments, I felt like I was being interrogated like some criminal. When I complained, they told me they were just following standard procedure.

  Wouldn’t it be easier for us to get on a plane and fly off to L.A.?

  This question popped into my mind as I left that building. Even though my interviewer was probably one of the most polite people I had ever met, my head was buzzing. Still, we had been to the City of Angels before, and not all of us had had a good time. Back in 2014, Ray spent almost every day swimming, mingling, and getting drunk. I didn’t mind drinking a little more than usual, but there was no way I could do so that often. I didn’t like the idea of being hungover throughout my vacation. I needed something quieter. Sadly, however, “quiet” in L.A. is just wishful thinking. The city itself is always bustling with people, and the situation doesn’t change much on the beaches, either.

  On the other hand, Dean rented a motorcycle, and that was all she wrote. Malibu or Pasadena weren’t enough to hold him. Upon his return six days later, his excuse for ditching us was: “Riding around and meeting girls is a hell of a lot better than seeing your ugly mugs every day. Don’t we do that back home?” Despite my anger for not letting us know where he was going, I had to admit he had a point there. The three of us have been living together for over five years. And, because none of us have any family in New York, we have never been apart, other than in 2014 and 2015, when Ray spent Christmas with Laura Harrison, his fiancé at the time. We spend Thanksgiving and Christmas in Aspen or Boston, where Dean and Ray’s mothers live. The only thing that ever changes is our surroundings, not the people.

  That is one of the reasons why I finally decided to accept Dean’s suggestion. At last, we would be going someplace where nobody had even heard of us. No neighbors would come knocking on the door, asking if my friends or I had found our significant others yet. This was definitely the part that both of them hated the most. The reason for this was that the nosiness wasn’t limited to the neighbors. Right after they would leave, the same old lecture would follow: More or less, it started with: “Why don’t you find yourself a nice lady and settle down? You’re not getting any younger, son,” No kidding. We were in our early thirties, but to Roberta and Cynthia, their sons and I were running out of time. If we had any chance of starting a family, we had to get married soon.

  The main reason why I agreed to go on a vacation to Greece though, was that it was my first chance to get out of the country. I was thirty-two years old, and Alaska was the furthest I had ever been from
home. And God knows that this small, European country was a lot warmer than Alaska. I just had one condition: I wanted to choose our hotel. I knew my friends like the back of my hand. Ray would prefer a hotel with a rooftop bar, while Dean would go for something with good access to the freeway. Both of those meant noise, and the last thing I wanted was another L.A. So, I found a small, somewhat secluded, hotel on the outskirts of Ammoudara, a popular resort, less than two miles away from the city.

  After a long, arduous flight, we’ve landed in Heraklion, the island’s capital city. With the brilliant red, orange, and pink colors up in the sky, we load our suitcases into a cab. To our liking, the route to our destination is filled with beautiful views of the sea and a few, fishing boats. I leave my window open, eager to catch a whiff of the amazing scent of salt. I have no idea how this vacation is going to go, but I love the way it’s beginning. Jetlag and the low traffic we run into don’t dampen my spirits.

  As we enter Ammoudara, I notice dozens of people on either sidewalk. Young children are holding their parents by the hand, laughing as they stroll. This single image convinces me that I have made the right choice. Most of the guys I work with have families, and they all seek somewhere peaceful for their vacation. All the same, when we leave the downtown area behind, Dean’s and Ray’s reactions ruin my good mood. Dean turns his head around to look at Ray in the back seat, clenching his jaw. The next thing I know, he is glaring at me. I keep my mouth shut, well aware of what he is thinking. He means to complain about our accommodation. I dismiss him with a snort. After all, “Ariadna,” our hotel, can’t be more than half a mile away.

  The colors of the sunset are fading to indigo as our cab rolls to a slow halt outside the large building. With the gentle sound of waves splashing on the sand, I grab my suitcases from the trunk, and then make my way towards the entrance. I settle my gaze on the deep blue, Dean’s words passing by me unheard. We have just arrived; arguing in public isn’t an ideal way to start a vacation. An elderly lady at reception welcomes me with a smile and a strong accent. I throw a quick glance over at Ray as she checks us in. He shrugs his shoulders, appeasing me for a moment. He would love for the hotel to be nearer to bars, but he’s okay with it. But, when I find myself entering the empty elevator, Dean’s bass-deep voice reminds me of his nasty glare back in the cab.

  “There were dozens of better hotels on our way over, and you chose this?” He grumbles, pressing the “penthouse” button on the panel. “What the fuck were you thinking, man?”

  “Define ‘better,’” I urge in a calm tone.

  “You know what I’m talking about,” Dean claimed, intensifying his stare. “It’s not bad, but…”

  “I did a lot of research before choosing this,” I interrupt, raising my voice. “In case you didn’t notice, there’s a ‘rent a car’ dealership just down the road. There’s also an exit to the freeway, less than a mile north. The only, um…” I pause. “... Downside is that the closest bar is like four hundred yards away.”

  “It’s less than a mile?” Dean cocks an eyebrow.

  “Right,” I say with a nod, the elevator doors sliding open sideways. “Okay, it’s not the most luxurious hotel in the world, but most of the ones we saw on our way over are ridiculously expensive.”

  “I stopped listening at ‘four hundred yards away,’” Ray confesses, his lips curling into a sly smile as he wanders off down the corridor. “It’s not bad, is it?” He asks, looking up at the tall ceiling.

  “Nope,” I agree, catching a glimpse of the red carpet on the floor. “Not bad at all. Which reminds me; I’ve got a surprise for you.”

  “Let me guess,” Ray suggests as I unlock the door. “There are ten naked chicks waiting for us in there.”

  “No,” I snort in amusement, Dean bursting into a fit of laughter. “See for yourselves,” I add, pushing the door wide open. Unbeknownst to them, I had booked the hotel’s only suite. The spacious living room fills my view. A large, brown couch is in the upper left corner. There is a 50” TV across from the armchair. A counter on the right separates the small kitchen from the living room. Right behind the couch is an open balcony door with a view to the sea.

  “Goddamn…” Ray whispers, stepping inside. “I was expecting a tiny little room, but this? This is beautiful, baby.”

  “Yeah, it’s great. Good job,” Dean comments, patting me on the back. “Now, let’s go get you drunk.”

  “Not a chance in hell,” I groan, glancing at him over my shoulder. “You kids go ahead. I’m staying,” I go on, shifting my gaze to my black guitar case that lay against the counter.

  “Corny bastard…” Dean murmurs, shaking his head in disapproval.

  “Get out of here,” I urge, heading for the bedroom. They can call me all the names they like. I am just too tired and jetlagged to follow them to a bar. All I want is to feel that sea breeze on my skin, while I play some of my favorite tunes. Maybe it is weird for someone who has just been through a twelve-hour flight to run off to the beach, instead of taking a nap or enjoying a couple of drinks, but to me, it makes all the sense in the world. I quickly change into a pair of black shorts and a gray, sleeveless tee. I had been waiting for this for a while. I wasn’t going to let my disgruntled friends get in the way.

  2

  Michael

  By the time I get back downstairs, the sunlight is almost completely gone. The old receptionist flashes me a puzzled look, noticing the guitar case on my back. I give her a smile, making my way through the lobby. I’d love to explain to her what I have in mind, but I don’t think I have to. Besides, I doubt if I’m the only tourist with a desire to enjoy some guitar playing on the beach.

  The distant buzzing coming from the bars rushes into my ears, filling my heart with contentment. No external music is going to overshadow mine. Yet, the sight that greets me gives me more happiness. The full moon casts its light upon the sea, painting it a soft shade of silver, a cool breeze sending ripples across the surface. The glimmering patch of water brings a feeling of tranquility into my heart.

  It’s impossible to get this in L.A. It’s just too crowded there. I’ve only been here for half an hour and I’m more relaxed already. I have a feeling this is going to be a wonderful vacation.

  Unzipping the case, I ease my black acoustic guitar out, unable to take my eyes off of the sea. A powerful gust of wind blows through my hair as I take the instrument in my arms. Feeling the fine wood on my fingertips, I begin to strum my favorite song. It’s old; way older than me, but it’s perfect for the occasion. It is none other than the Scorpions’ “Holiday.” Every fine hair in my body is raised when the vmelodic notes tear the silence of the night…

  Let me take you far away

  You'd like a holiday

  Let me take you far away

  You'd like a holiday

  Exchange the cold days for the sun

  A good time and fun

  Let me take you far away

  You'd like a holiday

  Let me take you far away

  You'd like a holiday

  Let me take you far away

  You'd like a holiday

  Exchange your troubles for some love

  Wherever you are

  Let me take you far away

  You'd like a holiday

  With each passing second, I am lost deeper in the magic of this magnificent ballad. I fell in love with it more than fifteen years ago, and it still appeals to me. Still, before I get the chance to finish it, I spot a shadow on my right. Bringing my gaze up, I see a tall, curvaceous blonde in a red bikini, with a big smile gracing her face as she slicks the water off her hair. My first thought is to stop playing altogether. I just have to introduce myself to her. Just then though, she parts her lips.

  “Very good,” she complements me in a clear, American accent, her smile widening.

  “Thanks,” I tell her, getting up on my feet. “I’m sorry, did I hear you correctly? You’re American?”

  “Yes, sir,” she adm
its, taking a step closer to me. “Born and raised in the Sun State. What about you?”

  “New York,” I reply, returning her smile. “My name’s Michael. Michael Donovan,” I continue, reaching out to shake her hand.

  “I’m Stacy Dexter,” she nods, her feathery voice sending my pulse rising.

  “So…” I draw in a sharp breath. “What made you leave Florida at this time of year? I’ I’m sorry for asking, but I’ve been to Tampa in July and I think it’s just great.”

  “Oh, it is,” Stacy agrees. “It’s nice and warm, but I needed a change of scenery. So, I told my friend Emily we should get out of there, and she suggested Greece. We’ve been here for a couple of days. It’s amazing.”

  “Well, I just got here,” I inform her, lowering my tone. “Are you guys staying in ‘Ariadna’?”

  “No, our hotel’s in the downtown area,” she states, pointing east. “I just drove over here because it’s always quiet during the night. I didn’t think I’d find anyone out here.”