One kiss, under the dark of night, in a city where no one knew us.
One kiss fueled by my hormones and alcohol and the blinding grief over losing my mother.
One kiss from the man I told myself was untouchable.
But, it didn’t stop at one kiss.
And now we are running full speed down a road with no intention of stopping.
His touch disarms me.
His kiss revives me.
But, our love, could destroy me.
*This is a taboo novel and is intended for mature audiences only.
Disclaimer:
This is a very taboo novel featuring a stepfather and stepdaughter. If this is not for you, I would advise against reading this one.
Seriously.
This book is dedicated to the women that loved Cal and Maddie’s story and asked for more.
You haven’t seen anything yet.
* * *
The first time I saw him, it was love at first sight. At least my ten-year-old brain, that had watched too many romance movies with my incurable romantic mother wanted to believe. He was standing across the playground talking to the Social Studies teacher whose name I could never remember. He was new from just a few towns over, I later learned, after his wife died in a fatal car accident leaving him widowed and devastated.
It was a warm Spring day, one of the first of the season and I found myself getting hot under my sweater that my mother made me promise not to take off. I pulled at it, wishing I had the courage to disobey just this once, and sighed.
Mark Erickson, this stupid bully that my mother told me only picked on me because he was sweet on me, ran past me, knocking me over and breaking my line of sight with my new love. I hit the mulch, but I didn’t get up. I just stared up at this beautiful man willing him to look at me. He looked like Prince Eric from The Little Mermaid, with jet black hair and tanned skin. I couldn’t see his eyes, but I bet they were blue just like his. I cocked my head to the side briefly wondering what it would be like to be part of his world.
The second time was later that week. He entered my math class just as we began a test. I set down my pencil, watching him move towards the front to quietly talk to my teacher. I tried to angle my ear towards them just to hear his voice. What did he sound like? I got up and moved towards the sharpener as it was in the front of the room. My heart pounded with every step, knowing that I’d get to hear his voice any second now. And I did.
Soft. Smooth. Rich.
I imagined it was what my father would sound like, if I had one.
The third, and perhaps the most pertinent time, he spoke to me. He told me he liked my pink overalls that I begged my mother not to make me wear. He gave me a grin, baring all his teeth and I almost melted. My heart slammed against my little ribcage and I couldn’t help but feel like I was floating.
The beautiful man noticed me.
Maybe he’d love me one day.
Maybe he’d kiss me like they do at the end of the movies.
But I was wrong.
So, fucking wrong.
Because although I saw him first and told myself at the young age of ten that I was madly in love with this beautiful man, said beautiful man fell in love with someone else.
My mother.
I was ten years old when I fell in love.
Two years later, I fell in hate.
* * *
“STASSI VALE, GET UP!” His voice booms through the house and I cringe hearing the way he says my name. First of all, my name is Stassia. Pronounced Stah-See-Uh. It was allegedly a nod to my father and my Italian roots. Roots I don’t know all that well, because said father up and left the second my mother learned she was pregnant. A part of me wonders about them. Not really my father because he didn’t really sound like a guy worth shit, but maybe a grandmother? One that could teach me to make pasta or cannolis from scratch or maybe an aunt on her fourth marriage that knows where to find the best gelato and sneaks me wine at dinner.
I sit up in bed, wondering about that side of my family for perhaps the millionth time in my life. My mother claims not to know anything about them or even how