Tryst
Authors: Cambria Hebert
(a
Take It Off
novel)
Sometimes all a girl needs is a little fling…
Talie Ronson needs a vacation.
From life.
Since she caught her cheating, loser husband in bed with his assistant, her life has been on a steady spiral—right into hell. Her car’s a junker, her job sucks, and her perfect, gorgeous sister likes to brag about her wonderful life every time they “do” lunch.
In an effort to salvage what’s left of her life and her sanity, she takes the advic
e of her kooky best friend and takes off to Topsail Island. A week at the beach, alone, is exactly what she needs to recharge, regroup, and relax.
Only, her alone time is about to get derailed.
Gavin Palmer’s favorite activity is walking around in his boxers and eating junk food. He and his neighbors have an understanding. They stay out of his business and he stays out of theirs. He lives at the beach, not for vacation, but for isolation. He’s had enough of people to last him a lifetime.
Gavin’s isolation is interrupted when his normally quiet neighbor starts disturbing his peace. He stomps across the sand to give the guy a piece of his mind… only it isn’t a guy.
It’s Talie.
She’s
maddening, nosy, and talks too much.
But she’s hot and her bedroom eyes have him thinking maybe he’s had enough solitude. Maybe a week of company is exactly what he needs.
Maybe what they both need is a no-strings-attached tryst.
Take It Off
series
"I love all of Cambria's books, but
Torch
is one if my favorites by her so far. Holt and Katie have chemistry like no other. There was a perfect mixture of steam, passion, and romance."
—
New York Times
and
USA Today
bestselling author Shanora Williams for
TORCH
"Cam was so swoon-worthy. He was everything I look for in a book boyfriend. He was hot, sexy, had a little bad boy edge, but he was also protective and loving. The mystery was also a great element. It kept me flipping the pages quickly to figure it out. And when it was revealed, it was shocking."
—Bestselling author Amber Garza
for
TEASE
"All hail the new queen of HOT romance! My new favorite romance of the last year. I adore this book. Nash & Ava… such a great story. I think I may have a new book boyfriend. This is a true romance story, but it mixes in danger, deception, & desire."
—Author Kieran Thorne for
TEMPT
“TEXT kept me up late turning pages. When I wasn't reading it, I was thinking about it. With lovable characters and a tight suspense plot, this is a great weekend read!”
—Bestselling author Ella James for
TEXT
“A new storyline that grabs you from page one and twists you into an action-packed ride full of danger and romance!”
—USA Today
bestselling author Tabatha Vargo for
TEXT
"Let me be clear—of the 1001 ways to die, burning would NOT be my first choice. However, a house consumed with flames and no chance of saving yourself equals RESCUE FANTASY FULFILLED."
—
Scandalicious Book Reviews for
TORCH
RYST
Take It Off Series
CAMBRIA HEBERT
TRYST Copyright © 2014 CAMBRIA HEBERT
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions
thereof, in any form without written permission except for the use of brief
quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Published by: Cambria Hebert Books, LLC
http://www.cambriahebert.com
Interior design and typesetting by Sharon Kay
Cover design by MAE I DESIGN
Edited by Cassie
McCown
Copyright 2014
by Cambria Hebert
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Heven
and Hell Series
Before
Masquerade
Between
Charade
Bewitched
Tirade
Beneath
Renegade
Heven
& Hell Anthology
Death Escorts
Recalled
Charmed
Take It Off
Torch
Tease
Tempt
Text
Tipsy
Tricks
Tattoo
Contents:
To every girl (or guy!) who’s ever had a tryst.
TRYST
Talie
I hadn’t had sex in six months.
Six months
. I was practically a born-again virgin. I mean, seriously. They say when you get married, your sex life goes down the toilet¸ but I didn’t know who “they” were, and I thought for sure my sex life wouldn’t go downhill until I was some old lady.
I was not old.
And I kind of wanted to punch “they” in the face.
I’ll blame my aggression on sexual frustration.
Weren’t men supposed to be a bunch of horn-dogs? In my experience, they sure were. My husband and I used to have sex all the time, but it slowly began to dwindle and then it pretty much fell off the face of the earth.
But that was going to change. I was going to do something about it. The way I saw it, I could let my insides shrivel up from lack of pleasure, or I could take the bull by the horns (or penis).
Shriveling up didn’t sound so appealing so I took the afternoon off from work (no loss there) and decided to go home and set the stage for a night of getting it on. On my way, I stopped at the store and picked up some candles, a see-through hot-pink nightie, and some edible massage oil.
I let myself into the apartment and shut the door behind me. Just as I made it to the kitchen counter, I heard a sound.
A moan.
I set the bag on the counter, soundlessly, and cocked my head, listening. Another moan floated through the apartment, and I wrinkled my nose.
Had I left the TV on when I left for work this morning?
And if so, what the hell kind of daytime shows did they play these days?
I padded down the hallway, over the plush carpet, and stopped in front of my partially closed bedroom door.
The sounds of heavy breathing and the bouncing of a mattress were unmistakable.
I was really trying not to think bad thoughts.
Really.
But I mean… it smelled like sex out here. A deep, musky scent that clung to the air.
I laid my palm against the door and pushed it open, stepping slowly in the doorway.
It took me quite a few seconds to register what I was seeing. Shock rendered me motionless. All I could do was stand there and gape.
I hadn’t left the TV on this morning.
And now I knew why my husband hadn’t pleased me in the past six months.
He was too busy pleasing someone else. Someone who was
not
his wife.
They were so involved in the act that they didn’t even know I was there. So I watched them. This was my house. That was my bed. And frankly, a part of me thought I was dreaming.
The white combed-cotton sheets that I had shopped for diligently where all wound around the legs of the couple in the center of the king-sized bed. The pillows I lovingly picked out were all skewed from the thrusting and movement going on, and the dark-gray comforter was half falling off the bed and onto the floor.
There was a woman sitting on top of my husband. Her hair was very long and thick, the color of chestnuts, and it waved down her back wildly like they’d been at the deed for a while already. As I stared, she pushed up off him and sat up, titling her head back and letting out a very loud moan as she moved over him, grinding her body against his.
I watched as my husband reached up and grabbed her breasts, giving them a little squeeze and grunting with pleasure.
Pain sliced through my belly.
How could he do this to me? How could he tell me he loved me, ask me to spend the rest of my life with him, and then bring another woman home and into our bed?
The pain I felt might have been incapacitating, but it didn’t stay long enough. It was quickly replaced by anger. Hot, furious sparks ignited inside me and my feet began to move.
I walked farther into the room and stopped at the edge of the bed.
“Talie!” My husband gasped, shooting into a sitting position. The woman screwing my husband didn’t slide off of him. Instead, she buried her face into his naked chest, like she was trying to hide.
It pissed me off.
I reached out and grabbed a handful of that thick, luxurious hair and yanked her backward. “Get the hell off my husband, you dirty ho.”
She screeched as I pulled her back off his lap, revealing his proud member. I scowled and dumped her and her fake boobs on the floor.
“Talie, I can explain,” he said, pulling the blanket up to cover his manhood. He was probably nervous I might grab it like I grabbed Barbie’s hair.
I wasn’t touching that thing ever again.
And really… was that like every idiot’s favorite line?
I can explain.
“You don’t need to explain. My eyes work just fine,” I snapped.
The girl scrambled up off the carpet and started gathering her clothes, which were tossed around my bedroom.
“I hope he satisfies you because he sure as hell never satisfied me,” I spat.
Her eyes widened and Blake (my cheating husband) began to sputter.
“Shut up,” I told him as I grabbed Barbie again and started towing her through the apartment toward the front door.
“I’m not dressed!” she screeched.
“What a shame.”
I flung open the door and shoved her out. She stood there in the center of the hallway, clutching her clothes against her naked chest. Her eyes narrowed and a mean look crossed her face.
“He told me you never made him happy.”
“You might wanna pay a visit to the surgeon who did your tits. They’re lopsided.” I slammed the door in her shocked face.
My chest was heaving and my hands were shaking when I turned around.
Blake was standing there, buttoning up a pair of black slacks. “Was that really necessary?”
At least he didn’t try to come up with some stupid-ass excuse. There was no excuse for him. And there was no excuse for why I married him, why I stayed in a marriage that was clearly never going to make me happy.
I opened the door once more. Thankfully, Barbie had already run off.
“Get out.”
He stared at me.
“I’m pretty sure I didn’t stutter. I said get the hell out.”
“This is my apartment too,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Oh, you can have it,” I replied calmly. “I’ll be gone in two hours.”
His arms dropped to his sides. “Where are you going to go?” Shock registered on his face, and I realized then that he didn’t respect me. He probably never did. He knew he would get caught eventually, but he thought I would stay. He thought I would put up with it.
He didn’t know me at all.
“It’s none of your business. Now get out before I start to scream.”
He came forward, stopping just in front of me. He reached up as if he were going to touch my face. I slapped his hand away. “I’ll be gone in two hours.”
Once he was in the hall, I slammed the door and threw the locks. I sagged against the white-painted wood and expelled a breath. I felt like I just ran a marathon. My chest squeezed tight, my stomach hurt, and every single limb on my body was heavy and exhausted.
Tears threatened behind my eyes and I sniffled. I glanced at the bag full of my romance supplies.
What a big, fat freaking joke.
I shoved away from the door, lifted my chin, and dashed away the unshed tears.
I could feel sorry for myself later.
Right now, I had to pack.
