Past Imperfect (40 page)

Thank you!

To my loving and supportive family: Jef, Momma, Kelley, Frank, Brandon, Paige, and Jerry.

To my friends and the fantastic Smurfettes: Beth Hyams, Kristina Amit, Tina Bell, Sandra Cortez, Leslie Cox, Stacy Darnell, Tamron Davis, Nicki DeStasi, Jennifer Diaz, Alexis Durbin, Christine Estevez, Michelle Grad, Carrie Horton, Stephanie Loftin, Christine Mateo, America Matthew, Marilyn Medina, Mia Michelle, Jennifer Mirabelli, Tracey Murphy, Stacia Newbill, Kim Shackleford, and Tabitha Willbanks.

To the groups who are always there to answer my questions and make me smile: Author Support 101, Book Babes and the Present Perfect Support group.

To the amazing creative professionals who have guided, advised, and encouraged me: Amy Tannenbaum, Linda Roberts, Robin Harper, Abigail Marie, Angela McLaurin, Nadine Silber, A. L. Zaun, Helen Wheeler, Daniel and Sheena Cobb.

To the extremely supportive blogging community.

To my incredible readers.

To the young women who shared their experiences of self-harm and suicide with me while researching
Past Imperfect
. You are strong, brave, courageous, and not alone.

Alison was born and raised in Charleston, SC. As a child she used her imagination to write additional scenes to TV shows and movies that she watched. She attended Winthrop University and graduating with a BA in Theater. While at Winthrop she began writing one act plays which she later produced. Throughout the years she continued writing and producing several one act plays, but then life got in the way and she hung up her pen for a while. On the advice of a friend, she started writing again. In January 2013, Alison sat down at her computer and began writing her first novel, Present Perfect, which was published in Aug 2013 and became an Amazon bestseller.

Alison currently lives in Charleston, SC with her husband, Jef, and their two furry children (dogs). She’s addicted to Diet Pepsi and anything with sugar.

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Past Imperfect Playlist

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OTHER BOOKS BY ALISON G. BAILEY

Present Perfect

Purchase your copy from Amazon

Turn the page for an excerpt of

Worth It

By Nicki DeStasi

When she reaches my door, I swing it open and lift her up for a kiss, just like always. With her legs wrapped around my waist, I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of this ritual.

“Hey, baby,” I greet her, smiling. I let her slide down my body, loving every second of her perfect tits pressed against me.

She smiles brightly up at me, lighting up my world. “Hey, you. I love Tuesdays.”

“Me, too.” I bend down to plant another kiss on her lips. Everything on this woman is perfect, perfect for me.

I step back, so she can take off her coat. “How was your day?” I ask, knowing she’s gonna have some funny stories.

Her beautiful smile makes an appearance. “Do you know what Sarah said today?”

“I’m sure you’re going to tell me,” I tease.

We head to the kitchen to make dinner together, which has become a habit on Tuesdays.

She opens the fridge to find the ingredients, making her black skirt stretch tightly over her fantastically rounded ass.
What do people call it? Apple bottom?

“Hello?” she says, annoyed.

I move my gaze from her ass to her eyes, and give her
that
smile. Her lips twitch, fighting laughter

“Hey, you can’t blame me when you’re bent over while wearing that skirt.”

She stands and turns, so I can see her breasts encased in a light pink blouse that fits her just right, not helping my ogling problem.

“Eyes up here, buddy.”

“Sorry.”

But I’m not sorry at all, and she knows it.

“Can you stop for two seconds?” she says, rolling her eyes.

I know she loves it though. I tilt my head up in thought, teasing her. I look back down at her and say, “Nope.”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine, then veggie casserole it is,” she says, returning to the fridge.

Panic flares through me, and I reach out and turn her to me. “Wait—what? Let’s not get hasty here.”

She bursts out laughing, laying her head against my chest. She circles her arms around my waist and looks up at me. “I knew a meatless dish would get your attention.” She laughs.

I give her a half-stern look. “That wasn’t funny. I mean, seriously, you don’t joke about food. That’s just wrong.”

She only laughs harder. “I was asking you before if chicken stir fry was okay, but you were too busy leering at my ass to listen.”

“Hey! I was appreciating the perfection that is your ass,” I say. “There was no leering involved whatsoever.”

She rolls her eyes again, still smirking. “Whatever you say, buddy. So, does stir fry work for you?”

“Absolutely, baby.”

She turns back to the fridge to gather the ingredients.

“So, what did Sarah say today?” I ask, trying hard not to get distracted again. It’s not an easy task, considering I have a sexy woman wearing a teacher outfit while cooking for me right now. It’s like someone reached into my head and pulled out my fantasy.

She turns after gathering what she needs, and she kicks the door closed with her stocking feet. “Can you grab me a cutting board?”

“Sure,” I say and turn to grab one out of the cupboard for her.

“So, we were talking about what makes us happy, and she goes, ‘The sun shining down on my face when I’m with my mommy.’ I mean, come on, is that not the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard?”

I laugh and shake my head. “That’s cute,” I agree, handing her the cutting board and kissing the top of her head. “What else can I do?”

“Why don’t you get out a wok?” she say, pulling out a knife and starts to chop up the chicken.

“What the hell is a wok?”

She looks at me and rolls her eyes. “The big frying pan that looks like a bowl.”

I pull out something resembling what she’s talking about. “This?”

“Yes, perfect. Thanks. Oh, and guess what Ian said?” She laughs as she turns her attention back to chopping

“I bet it’s good,” I say, laughing with her. “What can I do next?” I ask as I walk up behind her and close my arms around her waist.

She tilts her head back, and I brush my lips against hers.

“You can start the rice if you want.”

“Okay,” I say, backing up to find a pot to start boiling water.

“So, we were talking about senses, hearing specifically, and I was asking the kids what makes a sound. Ian shoots his hand up and starts waving it around frantically. It’s obvious he must have this brilliant idea, right?”

She glances over at me where I’m filling the pot with water, and I nod.

“So, I call on him, and he says, ‘Tick tock.’ I’m like, ‘Good, Ian. A clock makes the sound tick tock.’ Then, he starts shaking his head back and forth and goes, ‘No, Miss M. I mean”—and he starts singing—“tick tock, on the clock, but the party don’t stop.’ ” She starts laughing.

My gut squeezes at seeing her so happy, especially since I’ve seen her so full of anguish.

“You know that Ke$ha song, right?”

I chuckle as I walk over to the stove and set the pot down to start boiling the water. I lean down and kiss her cheek. “Yeah, I know which one you’re talking about, and that is pretty funny. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

She grins and turns her head, so she can kiss me quickly on the lips. “Oh my gosh, I almost forgot the funniest thing,” she continues as she tosses the chicken she cut up into the woky-pan thing. Then, she takes the cutting board and knife to the sink. “Can you wash these for me real quick?”

“Sure, baby,” I say, coming up behind her before she has a chance to turn back to the stove.

I press myself against her ass with my hands on either side of her, and I duck my head to kiss along her neck and shoulder. She tilts her head to allow me better access.

“Mmm, you’re distracting me,” she murmurs.

I kiss up her neck until I reach her ear, and I flick my tongue out to lick just underneath her lobe. “Payback,” I whisper.

She spins around, wraps her arms around my neck, and brings me down to kiss me hard. I fucking love how fast I turn her on.

“Payback for what?” she whispers against my lips.

I press my hard-on against her stomach. “You’re walking around while looking so fucking sexy that it’s distracting me,” I say against her lips. I kiss her again, slowly but deeply stroking her soft warm tongue with my own.

She moans and squeezes her arms tighter around me, pressing her curvy little body against mine, and it’s a green flag at NASCAR. I pick her up, put her sexy-as-fuck behind on the edge of the sink, and shove my mouth into her mouth like my life depends on it. She claws at my shoulders and kisses me back just as hard. I rub my rock-solid length against her center, which is now at the perfect height, only making it more difficult not to strip her and fuck her now, right at this fucking second. I rub against her again, harder this time, and I deepen the kiss further than I thought possible. I reach down and inch my fingers up the inside of her thigh where her skirt has ridden up. My hand moves slowly, building the anticipation until I reach something I did not see coming.

I break the kiss and glance down. “Jesus! Fuck, you’re wearing garters!” I pant while trailing my fingers along the edge of her stocking, not taking my eyes off her toned smooth thighs.

I watch as goose bumps erupt along her skin, and she lets out a soft whimper. My eyes shoot to hers, and she bites down on her lower lip and hoods her eyes. I watch as a slow, seductive smile spreads across her lips.

My cock jerks. I’m so fucking turned-on right now from seeing this woman turn on the seduction for me.

Jesus Christ, I don’t think anything could be hotter.

I keep my eyes on her face as it starts to soften and a flush spreads across her cheek bones. Her breathing get heavier as I inch my fingers up, edging closer, closer, almost there—

“Oh fuck, the chicken!” she shouts, pushing me back, drawing me out of my stupor.

Now, I’m starting to smell the burning food. She hops off the counter, rushes to the stove to remove the pan from the burner, and starts scraping the charred chicken off the pan in an attempt to salvage dinner.

She glances over at me where I’m still recovering. She tries to look annoyed, but her breathing is still erratic, and her face is still flushed.

“You ruined dinner, hornball.”

I smirk and saunter over to where she’s standing. With her back to me, I wrap my arms around her and nuzzle my face into her neck, breathing her in. “If you’re looking for an apology, you’re not getting one,” I say. Then, I nibble her earlobe. “Let’s finish what we started and order take-out.”

She groans and pushes her backside against me. “Okay,” she breathes. “I like that plan.”