Crave: The Nora Heat Collection Read online

  CRAVE

  A NORA HEAT ROMANCE

  Shanora Williams

  Copyright © 2017 Shanora Williams

  All rights reserved. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any form without prior written permission of the publisher, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution, circulation or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

  Published December 2017

  Cover Design by Juliana Cabrera of Jersey Girl Design

  Trademarks: This book identifies product names and services known to be trademarks, registered trademarks, or service marks of their respective holders. The author acknowledges the trademarked status in this work of fiction. The publication and use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Contents

  Author Note

  Sweet Notifications

  MORE BOOKS BY SHANORA

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  Bad For Me

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Epilogue

  MORE BOOKS BY SHANORA

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  Author Note

  I’ll make this simple:

  This book is pretty damn filthy. It’s a Nora Heat romance, which means it is a simple, short read. All Nora Heat romances are novellas and they are super smutty, so the characters usually get straight to the point. Yep, I’m talking straight to the chitty-chitty-bang-bang.

  If you’re looking for a deep or real Shanora Williams romance, you probably won’t find it here, but flip to the next page and you’ll find my backlist catalogue and a ton of deeper stories to devour. :-)

  If you’re a smut fanatic (like me), dive right in and enjoy this smutty, delicious little read.

  Sweet Notifications

  To get notified about new release alerts, free books, and exclusive updates, join my newsletter by clicking the image below!

  MORE BOOKS BY SHANORA

  NORA HEAT COLLECTION

  CARESS

  DIRTY LITTLE SECRET

  STANDALONES

  TEMPORARY BOYFRIEND

  100 PROOF

  DOOMSDAY LOVE

  TAINTED BLACK

  UNTAINTED

  INFINITY

  SERIES

  FIRENINE SERIES

  THE BEWARE DUET

  VENOM TRILOGY

  SWEET PROMISE SERIES

  Most of these titles are available in Kindle Unlimited.

  ONE

  JENNA

  What is wrong with me?

  Normally, after having a session with Jude on Sunday, I’d leave the hotel feeling great—like a woman who could conquer the world—but that night was a little different. Maybe I was crazy, or maybe there was so much more to this than he cared to admit. It’d been three months of this now and neither of us could get enough of each other.

  Every Sunday it was just the two of us in a fancy hotel suite. He would book it for us, and we’d do things in there—naughty things that I knew couldn’t really be explained. Only experienced. There were times when I’d wanted to stay, but he would tell me to leave. There were times when I wanted to kiss him so badly it hurt, but he would always reject me. I sat there that night, staring at him, wondering just how he felt about me—wondering if he could feel the magnetic pull I constantly felt when we were in the same room. He had his eyes closed and was sleeping peacefully. It was the first time I’d actually seen him sleep since this started. He was comfortable, like he didn’t want to be anywhere else but here.

  “Jude, I have to go,” I whispered, sliding closer to him.

  He groaned and mumbled in his sleep. I didn’t want to interrupt his rest. He’d been drinking a little too much, like he’d been stressed. I could feel his stress between my thighs and on my hips—a sweet soreness that I didn’t want to fade anytime soon.

  I of all people knew he needed to get some sleep, so I slid to the edge of the bed and grabbed my jeans off the floor, shoving my legs through the pant legs and standing to button them. I found my sweater on the chair and grabbed it, pulling it down over my head.

  “You can’t leave,” Jude mumbled as I picked up my bag. My eyebrows dipped and I turned to focus on him.

  “What?” I whispered.

  “Can’t…leave.” He sighed, rolling to his side. His back was to me now. “I like being with you. I like…you.”

  I was surprised to hear that. He…liked me?

  I didn’t get it. Was he still drunk? Was he thinking about someone else? Was he thinking about her? I needed to hear him say it again.

  “Jude,” I called from where I stood in the middle of the room.

  He didn’t respond.

  “Jude,” I called again, but seconds later I heard him snoring.

  I dropped my gaze to the floor, contemplating whether to stay or go. Eventually, I went with the latter. He would be upset if I stayed longer than I was supposed to. He’d established rules and I was going to follow them. This was best for him and me, especially for me because I was already wanting more.

  Needing more.

  Craving more.

  Sighing, I walked to the door and grabbed the knob, twisting and pulling it open. “Goodnight, Mr. Clement,” I murmured, and left.

  Left my boss to be alone.

  TWO

  JENNA

  Monday morning. The day after.

  People seemed to loathe Mondays, but I don’t think there was anyone who disliked them more than me. My eyes bounced over to the clock on the wall. I knew in about five more minutes, he would be strolling through that door, so I stacked the papers I had in my hand, placing them neatly on his desk.

  I knew not to be in here when he arrived, but I needed to talk about yesterday. I needed him to look me in the eye and tell me I wasn’t crazy—that I’d heard what I heard. The elevator chimed from where I stood and my breath nearly caught in my throat.

  I looked down, sliding my slick palms down the front of my white pencil skirt and then smoothing out some of the wrinkles from my silky red blouse that revealed way too much cleavage, just the way he liked it. Not to mention the red stilettos I bought to wear to work, just for him. Red is sultry, sexy, tempting. He, of all people, could never resist it. I checked my hair in the mirror on the wall to my right and just as I straightened up, the door opened wider.

  He walked inside, making it halfway through the room, focused on the iPhone in his hand. Like he knew he wasn’t the only one in the room, he picked up his head and as soon as he spotted me, he stopped walking.

  I froze, hardly breathing.

  His beauty alone could make any woman stop dead in her tracks.

  He was very handsome.
r />   Judas Clement—a name that should have frightened my fragile heart from the start. Before I met him, really got to know him, I was pure. I deemed his parents insane for giving him such a blasphemous name, but then I got to know him, spend an ample amount of time around him, and realized his name suited him all too well. Why? Because he betrayed my heart constantly, played me like a fool every week, but I forgave him every single time.

  When I first laid eyes on this man, I wondered what the good Lord was thinking while creating him. From crown to foot, he was breathtakingly beautiful, and he knew it. Oh, trust me, he knew it.

  His sandy-blonde hair was styled in the perfect cut, tapered on the sides and a little lengthier at the top. It seemed he combed and gelled it every morning, but also messed with it a lot with his fingers on his way to work. He had a cowlick that made him seem boyish, but trust me, he was anything but.

  He wore a blue three-piece Armani suit with a silky light blue tie to match. And his face. My word, his face was perfectly sculpted and shaped. A cut and narrow jaw, a strong, square chin, dusty with scruff, and a straight and narrow nose that led to full, suckable lips. I liked when he didn’t shave, though I knew his mother hated it. To her, and apparently, the rest of the industry, it made him appear less professional.

  His eyes were the iciest blue eyes I’d ever seen. Bright and always freezing me in place. I knew what was beneath the immaculate suit he wore. Oh, believe me, I knew all about it and felt heat build up in my chest just thinking about it.

  “Miss Taylor,” Jude said. “Why are you in my office? You know you’re not supposed to be in here when I arrive.”

  I finally let a breath slip out, fidgeting on my six-inch heels now. “Don’t call me Miss Taylor. You know I don’t like that.”

  With a small smirk, he pulled his eyes away, walking on the opposite side of the room to get behind his desk. He was closer now and I could smell his cologne—sandalwood and leather and all the finer things.

  Casually sliding his hands into his front pockets, he turned to look at me—all of me. His hungry eyes scanned my entire body, sticking mainly on my breasts and my legs. “In here, it’s Mr. Clement to you, and you are Miss Taylor to me. You know this.”

  Yeah, before things got a little too hot and heavy between us. I ignored his remark. There was no need for formalities after that.

  “Jude, I want to talk about yesterday,” I said, cutting right to the chase.

  I saw his jaw clench then, his icy eyes boring into mine. “You know we don’t talk about Sundays here.”

  “Yeah, I know, but…I heard you say something. And it had me thinking all night. I know I’m not crazy…I just—”

  “Sometimes you can be,” he said with snide, turning and sitting in his big leather chair. “Crazy,” he added on, like I didn’t understand. He moved the mouse to his computer, logging into it. He was deflecting. Normally I would let him get away with this—walk away and go about my business—but not today.

  I’d had enough of his mind games.

  I grabbed the armrest of his chair and spun him around to face me. He frowned up at me, ready to lash out, but before I could think about what I did next, my lips were already on his, my ass sinking sideways into his lap.

  I hooked my right arm around the back of his neck, staining him with ruby red lipstick, not giving a damn how he felt about it.

  Because I heard him yesterday.

  I fucking heard him.

  But he didn’t care because he didn’t kiss me back. He didn’t put any effort into it. He never did. I couldn’t understand why I kept trying. My effort seemed stupid and futile. Jude gripped my face tight between his fingers and snatched his lips away. He glared at me but I pulled my face away, sliding off of his lap and standing again, breathing a little harder.

  “What exactly did you hear me say, Jenna?” he asked, rising from his chair, stepping closer. God, Jude was a beast. A sexy, delicious, wicked, all-consuming beast that made my heart drum and my knees wobble. His chest bumped mine, his breathing ragged, and yep—his lips were smeared with my lipstick, along with the skin beneath his bottom lip.

  He used his thumb to wipe most of it away, but kept his eyes hard on me.

  I hesitated. Suddenly, I didn’t want to tell him, not with his icy gaze penetrating me, diving deep into my soul, freezing every word that was trying to form.

  “That you—”

  “That I what?” He tipped his chin, bringing a hand up and pressing it into the back of my neck to tilt my chin, too.

  “That you like being around me,” I whispered on his lips. I ached, wanting his lips on mine. Needing it so badly. I expected a kiss—one sweet, delicious, real kiss—but he paused. His mouth was so close to mine I could feel the heat of them. His chest pushed into my bosom.

  “We fuck on Sundays, behind closed doors—away from the world,” he murmured on my lips. “I fuck the shit out of you and you love it, but that’s it. All we are doing is fucking, Jenna. We don’t get to like each other. We don’t get to let ourselves sink too deep, so whatever you think you heard me say, you are sadly mistaken.”

  My thudding heart slammed to a standstill. He slowly withdrew, holding my gaze for a brief moment, before stepping away and sitting in his chair again.

  I stood there like a damn idiot, eyes ahead, trying to collect my thoughts. He didn’t like me. Of course, he didn’t.

  This arrangement wasn’t created to like each other. It was created for the enjoyment, the satisfaction. The irresistible tug and pull that we’d constantly put up with until, finally, he’d shown up at the office after hours, bent me over on his desk, and fucked me from behind while murmuring sweet nothings in my ear. And before he left that same night, he told me it wouldn’t stop—that he needed more.

  Only, he wasn’t supposed to want or need more because his family wouldn’t have accepted it. I knew I wasn’t good enough for him. I was just the secretary, yet that didn’t matter to him. He still wanted me, so we had to do this quietly. Secretly.

  That’s when the hotel bookings started—the early Sunday mornings leading into satisfied Sunday evenings. But not this past Sunday. No, on that Sunday, my mind was unsatisfied.

  “You can go now, Miss Taylor,” Mr. Clement said, typing on his keyboard, replying to an email. It was Mr. Clement to me, because that’s who he was here. Not Jude. Not Judas. Clement. Only Clement. I was never to get too comfortable. That was his rule.

  I swallowed my heart, which was lodged in my throat several seconds ago, and turned away from him, walking to his office door.

  “Oh, and Jenna,” Mr. Clement called. I looked back, my heart catching speed, but he wasn’t even looking at me. He was still focused on his computer screen.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Get me a coffee, will you?” he requested. “It’s going to be a long day.”

  Defeat washed through me, pouring through my veins, pungent like gasoline. I blinked rapidly and nodded, but my heart was slowly breaking to pieces. “Of course, Mr. Clement.”

  THREE

  JUDAS

  I watched her walk out of my office in those sexy-as-hell clothes, with her chin up and her head held high like she didn’t care, but I knew her. I knew her all too well.

  I hated this charade—the games I had to play just to keep her on a leash. Jenna Taylor was nothing but pussy to me. Good pussy, I could admit—always fresh and delivered to me on Sunday mornings. She was the best breakfast any man could ask for. I knew what she was talking about. I knew exactly what I’d said. I’d had a little too much to drink and she was curled up on my chest. She felt good—too damn good with her ass cupped in my hand and her full tits on me. When she pulled away, I felt like something was missing. Like I needed her there, but I wasn’t going to confess that truth.

  I was Judas Clement, the best damn architect in California. I had women lined up and my call list was a mile long. I didn’t fall for women—it was pointless with the lifestyle I led. I wasn’t the type to settl
e down. I traveled too much and worked too damn hard to bother.

  Plus, with the traveling, came the women. And my fucking word, there were a lot of them for me to choose from.

  But I had to admit, since this arrangement started between Jenna and me three months ago, I hadn’t slept with another woman. Somehow, after leaving the hotel rooms every Sunday night, I was satisfied for an entire fucking week, ready for the next Sunday to arrive. Ready to be balls-deep in Jenna Taylor’s pussy.

  I could never go a day without thinking about fisting her honey-blond hair while fucking her from the back, watching her thick, creamy ass jiggle on my dick. Or having her suck my cock while fully naked, in front of the window that gave the perfect ocean view, all while I sipped my coffee.

  Her pussy wasn’t like the others. No, it was far from it. Hers was spectacular. So good I seemed to get lost in it. I couldn’t let her know that, though.

  She was getting too close, starting to figure me out. A part of me was tempted to cancel on her next Sunday, hope she got the memo that this was just for fun, but I craved her too much to let that happen. I was up for taking the risk if it meant I could come in her mouth every chance I could get.