This is a standalone novella at 27,009 words.
While there are explicit sex scenes, beta readers have labeled this more Steamy Romance than Erotic Romance. However, as I was shooting for Erotic please be aware of graphic language and explicit sex scenes before buying.
His Back Bay Princess
Blurb
Diego Suarez is a Boston homicide cop who comes from a completely
different world than Catherine Fisher. He’s the son of Mexican migrant farm
workers; she can find the founders of Boston in her blue bloodline. He had to
endure a stint in the Marines to fund college; she went to a private university
and her graduation present was a three-story home in Back Bay, where Diego
couldn’t even afford property taxes. They are different, too different for it
to work out between them. Cat deserves better than what he can give her. It
will never work.
It doesn’t matter if the only time he feels alive is when he’s with her.
It doesn’t matter that she looks at him with all the love she feels for him in
her eyes. One day she’ll wake up and figure out she can do better than him.
It’s better to never start something that won’t last, can’t last.
Catherine doesn’t care about money, the having of it or lack of it. All
she cares about is Diego. After Diego has been shot and she is asked to look
after him, she knows she has just one last chance to find out what is keeping
Diego from her. She knows he feels something for her, so why is he pushing her
away?
Except
What had followed was a night of sex so hot and raw the memory of it had
been burned into him. When his need for her became too strong, those memories
were all he needed to stroke his cock to in the months since. He had wanted no
other woman but Cat. The idea of taking some other woman in place of her had
been repulsive. The memories of that night were better than sex with a woman
other than Cat could ever be. He hadn’t been able to get enough of her. Again
and again he had reached for her and taken her in every position he’d dreamed
of her in. Every time she’d willingly followed his instructions. On her knees
she’d wiggled her sweet ass for him, and she’d ridden him, in total control and
loving it. She had been just as greedy for him as he was for her; her tongue
had roamed over his body until he thought he’d lose his mind, and he pushed her
back into the bed with his body. Twice, though, he hadn’t been quick enough for
a condom, and the feel of her around him had been worth the fear that he might
make her pregnant.
He hadn’t slept that night, not wanting to miss a moment with her. He’d
allow her small moments of sleep but he wasn’t able to close his eyes. Watching
her was more important than sleep. As he had watched her, he knew what he had
to do, and although he practiced it over and over in his head, the words had
stung like acid on his tongue as he said them. He had pulled away from her and
gotten dressed before she woke, and watched as she stretched and opened her
beautiful eyes and smiled at him. For a moment the love he saw there almost
stopped him, but he shook his head and remembered the promise to himself.
Even now, the memory of her frozen expression and the tears that flowed
unchecked, tears she didn’t even seem aware fell, caused an ache in his chest.
He had never wanted to hurt her—it was for her own good. He had to remember
that. No matter what his body wanted, he couldn’t have her.
Now, in a bed in her house knowing that she was just a few feet away, the
memories taunted him. He considered changing out of the tight jeans but decided
maybe the suffering was what he deserved for having her when he knew he
couldn’t keep her. He wondered what she slept in, or if she slept as naked as
she had in his arms that night. He groaned and adjusted the aching part of his
body that right now hurt almost as much as the shot to his shoulder. He
squeezed his eyes closed and tried counting sheep, and when that didn’t work he
took his mind through the last case he had worked. It didn’t matter that it was
a case full of bloody bodies and gunshots—it was better than thinking about the
feelings he had for a woman he couldn’t have.
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