My Prerogative Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Acknowledgements

  Epigraph

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  LOSING IT

  “SASHA WHITE STRETCHES HER IMAGINATION TO PLACES THIS READER CANNOT WAIT TO GO!”

  —Love’s Romance Specialists

  PRAISE FOR THE NOVELS OF SASHA WHITE

  “The writing is strong, the characterization is well drawn and likable . . . and the sex is very well done. This is hot!”

  —Angela Knight, New York Times bestselling author of Master of Dragons

  “The heat is on . . . and never cools down.”—Midwest Book Review

  “Soul grabbing, richly evocative, and unforgettable.”

  —Suzanne McMinn, author of A Hero’s Redemption

  “Enjoyable through and through.”—Romance Reviews Today

  “White does a fabulous job of keeping the balance between an interesting plot and uninhibited sexual activity.”—Fresh Fiction

  “Plenty of fun . . . mixes tense emotions and hot sex.”

  —Romantic Times Book Reviews

  “Packs a tremendous punch ... stimulating, steamy, [and] scorching hot.”—Fallen Angel Reviews

  “Delightful and very thought provoking.” —Enchanted in Romance

  “Hot and explosive.”—Just Erotic Romance Reviews

  “Intensely sensual.”—Romance Junkies

  “Creates a carnal haze that envelops the readers, caresses their senses . . . deliciously decadent.”—The Romance Studio

  “Sexy, raw, and intriguing.”—The Road to Romance

  Berkley Heat titles by Sasha White

  BOUND

  TROUBLE

  WICKED

  MY PREROGATIVE

  Anthologies

  KINK

  (with Saskia Walker)

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada

  (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)

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  (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)

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  (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)

  Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196,

  South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.

  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. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  MY PREROGATIVE

  Copyright © 2008 by Sabrina Ingram.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form

  without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in

  violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  HEAT and the HEAT design are trademarks belonging to Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  eISBN : 978-1-436-25957-6

  I. Title.

  PS3623.H57885M9 2008

  813’.6—dc22 2008018332

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  Acknowledgments

  Working nights can be different. Working in a nightclub is a whole ’nother world. As a bartender myself, I know this firsthand. Kelsey’s story will hopefully give just a glimpse of that world to you.

  Many thanks go out to Stewart Ingram for the help and advice on the Vancouver area. It’s been too long since I’ve been in the city.

  I’d also like to thank Cindy Hwang for letting me go with the story I wanted to write, and Roberta Brown for always being there.

  I find sometimes it’s easy to be myself.

  Sometimes I find it’s better to be somebody else.

  —Dave Matthews Band

  1

  There are few things more enjoyable than lying naked on a sandy beach under a hot sun. Especially in a foreign country where no one knows me and I’m free to do whatever, and whomever, I want.

  Kelsey Howard, footloose and fancy-free, answerable to no one. That was me.

  Being single and adventurous made me the envy of many, and I had to admit, there were times when even I thought my life was blessed.

  Cute as a kid, pretty as a girl, and then beautiful as a woman.

  I do believe people see that when they look at me. I have to believe it; I’ve heard it my whole life. And on some days, I can even look in the mirror and see it. The problem is that I don’t always feel that way. I have a hole inside that needs to be filled, and despite the fact that I know filling it with food, drinks, and casual sex isn’t good, or smart . . . I still do it. I can’t stop myself. It’s the only way I know to fill that emptiness.

  So, really? Is it wrong if it makes me feel better? Even if it’s just for a little while?

  Rising up a bit from my supine position on the beach, my elbows dug comfortably into the sand. I lounged in the heat of the Mediterranean sun and tracked the approach of my companion from behind dark sunglasses. Nope, nothing wrong with it at all.

  Ocean water glistened over his bulging muscles as they rippled with every move he made. Hair slicked back and eyes intent on me, he prowled up the beach. Yeah, he was definitely prowling, and I was woman enough to appreciate it.

  One of the few things I enjoy in life more than lying on a beach is lying under a well-built man. Both at once was a fantasy I was determined to finally have come true.

  Marco was his name, and I’d met him at the hotel bar on my second night here. The all-inclusive resort we were at encouraged hedonistic behavior, and after the first night spent watching everyone let loose, I was more than ready for my own sensual adventure. I’d almost given up hope of finding someone I could click with when he’d introduced himself and the sparks flew. Marco had proven to be very adventurous—a wonderful choice for my holiday fling.

  I took a p
ull of tequila from the bottle I’d grabbed from the room’s minibar and a familiar tingle awoke low in my belly. Marco drew closer and I spread my legs a little wider, knowing he wouldn’t be able to avoid the temptation I presented.

  Sure enough, hunger sparked in his dark eyes and he dropped to his knees at my feet. Large masculine hands cupped my bent knees and slid up my thighs, sending more tingles through my system.

  “Hello there, stranger,” I said softly.

  His teeth flashed in a predatory smile and he began crawling up and over my body until his mouth hovered over mine. “You look good enough to eat,” he said.

  I looked to the left and saw no one, and then to the right. There was a couple about fifty yards down the beach, roasting themselves on a blanket and minding their own business, so I lifted my arms and pulled him down on top of me. “So what’s stopping you?”

  He chuckled and kissed me hungrily. He tasted faintly of tequila and salt water from the ocean, so I opened up and enjoyed the way our tongues rubbed together. The cool friction heated my blood and made my sex clench in anticipation. The nude beach we were on was part of the private resort where anything goes, and in that instant I made the decision to live up to my reputation as a wild child and enjoy every second of it.

  I tilted my head back, and Marco took the hint, nuzzling his way down my neck. The sound of waves rhythmically lapping at the shore became an erotic symphony as he cupped my breasts and flicked the jeweled hoops there back and forth.

  “So pretty,” he crooned. He wrapped his lips around one nipple and sucked hard, his tongue pulling at the piercing.

  “Harder,” I urged him. A little pain always heightened the pleasure.

  He complied and my hips jerked in response. Yes.

  I slid my hands into his hair and nudged him lower. Eager to please, Marco slithered down my body until his talented mouth was hovering over my greedy cunt. His hands cupped my ass, lifting me as his tongue came out and flicked the jeweled hoop that pierced the protective hood of my clit. A sigh of pleasure slipped from between my lips and I pressed him closer.

  Sometimes fantasies do come true.

  2

  The flight home was smooth and easy. After I passed through customs and caught sight of the mob at baggage claim, I was doubly glad I’d packed light.

  Heading through the automatic doors, I ignored the crowd of people eagerly waiting for arrivals to well . . . arrive. No one there was waiting for me.

  It was late afternoon but the sun was shining down on Vancouver. The sky was clear and the air was so humid my hair began to wilt and immediately go flat. It didn’t bother me though; I just reached into my purse for a couple of elastics and made two pigtails. Not many women my age could get away with the style, but I didn’t look my age, and I certainly didn’t feel it, so why care?

  I knew the airport’s parking lot layout well, so it took me no time to find my car. Dropping my bags on the passenger seat of the little red Camry, I climbed in, rolled down the window, and cranked up the tunes. I bopped along mindlessly to the music for the forty-five minute drive home, weaving in and out of the busy Saturday afternoon traffic but not letting the heat or the cranky drivers on the road get to me.

  An hour after my feet touched the ground I was strolling into my apartment and dropping my bag on the floor while my stomach growled angrily. A quick peek into the fridge showed only a bottle of wine and a tub of margarine.

  Why the hell hadn’t I stopped at McDonald’s or something on the way home? Smart, Kelsey. Way to think ahead.

  There’s nothing special about my apartment, other than the fact that it’s all mine. I’d spent some time and money making it the best it could be, and that was a nice semistylish place with an eclectic collection of comfortable furniture, and all the amenities.

  The thought of coming home to a messy place always had me on a cleaning spree the week before I went on any trip, and this last one had been no different. When I glanced around this time I noted that it looked as neat and clean as it had been when I left.

  It was nice to come home to a clean place, but the hollow-ness of the empty apartment was a bit too much for me, so I dug out my iPod and put it in its cradle. Soon Dave Matthews was chasing the silence away and I reached for the phone.

  I’d just finished ordering pizza for delivery and was opening the bottle of wine when there was a knock on the door. Yay! Someone came to welcome me home. Not.

  Corkscrew still in hand, I opened it to one of the downstairs tenants.

  “Hi, Manny, what can I do for you?”

  A twenty-dollar bill was waved in front of my face. “My wife, she need the laundry tokens.”

  Manny was from Chile, and had lived on the first floor of the three-story building for the past twelve years. He and his wife were quiet and clean, and the first ones to welcome me to the complex when I’d moved in five years earlier, and I really liked them. Having neighbors who knew my name and were willing to water my plants while I was away made me feel a part of the place. “Sure. Wait right here.”

  I went to the kitchen and pulled the little plastic case from the cupboard. I was counting out tokens when Manny stepped into the open doorway. “Our kitchen sink is still dripping, Ms. Kelsey. It’s very loud and keeps me awake at night. When will it get fixed?”

  “I told you before. You have to phone Paul. He’s the head of the condo board and in charge of things until the new building manager is here next month. I’m just taking care of the tokens and the basic maintenance for this month. I have nothing to do with repairs.”

  “Two weeks ago I call el presidente. He said he’d call a repairman, but I’ve not heard nothing, so I ask you again.”

  I shook my head and handed him the tokens with a soft smile. “I’m sorry, I haven’t heard anything. I know it’s annoying, but apparently the guy that the condo board hired is worth waiting for, and after the last manager, we need to make sure this new one knows what he’s doing.”

  “That’s true,” he said, nodding his head thoughtfully. “That last guy did nothing but drink. He tried to fix the leak, and it only get worse.”

  “Less than a month to go, Manny.” I ushered him out of the doorway. “I’ll make sure when I meet the new building manager that your faucet is first on his to-do list.”

  I closed the door behind the grumbling old guy and went back to my bottle of wine. Sure I’d agreed to clean the building and hand out laundry tokens for the six weeks they were without a manager, but that was it. I was a bartender, not a handym—handy woman.

  Two minutes later I was sitting down with wineglass in hand and the phone rang. I recognized Randy’s number on the caller ID and decided I wasn’t in the mood for a visit. Strange, normally a visit from my occasional and very adventurous lover was welcome, but right then, I just wanted to be alone with my wine.

  Sunday was my day to get organized again before I returned to the regular programming of my uneventful life.

  Still feeling pretty relaxed and genial after my holiday, I crawled out of bed around ten—which was actually early for me, the bartender who rarely went to bed before four in the morning. After a lazy shower I dressed in a casual pair of black walking shorts and a tight tank top that hugged my breasts and showed plenty of my C-cup cleavage. Hair wasn’t something I wanted to deal with so I slipped a ball cap over my plain midnight tresses and smoothed on some bright red lipstick to finish the look before heading to the grocery store.

  Vancouver is a big city, which makes housing in the decent areas pretty expensive. Commercial Drive, my neighborhood, was ethnically diverse and a bit seedy, but the city was working on cleaning it up. Cafés and restaurants were popping up all over and it had turned into a more eclectic, almost artsy area because of the recently restored lofts and buildings.

  Grabbing a basket just inside the door, I filled it with prewashed and cut bag salad, baby carrots, and celery before adding some peaches and heading for the frozen food aisle. Microwave dinners, pizza, and a ca
rton of ice cream joined the healthy stuff. A basket full of essentials for a single person.

  Staring at the food I’d collected was slightly depressing and I fought the temptation of the cookie aisle. Temptation won and I added a bag of chocolate chip to my basket. Not a coffee drinker, a pack of Red Bull energy drinks was the final item on my list.

  The cashier smiled at me when I started to unload my items onto the conveyor belt and I smiled back. “Hi, Kelsey, how are you doing today?” she said when the customer ahead of me was done and walking away.

  “Doing good, Maureen. You?”

  Living alone made it hard to keep lots of food in my fridge because if I didn’t eat at home every day, the food went bad. Which meant I didn’t buy a lot, but I went food shopping two or three times a week. Since I’d been living in the same apartment for almost five years, and the grocery store was only four blocks away, a couple of the cashiers knew me by name.

  I was a regular.

  A chuckle bubbled up and Maureen grinned and shook her head in puzzlement. “You’re always in such a good mood.”

  I wasn’t really in a good mood, I was just amused because after bartending for fifteen years I’d always sworn I’d never be a “regular” anywhere. Regulars could keep a business going, but by the same token, they could be a real pain in the ass at times. But Maureen didn’t need to hear all that so I just shrugged. “The sun is shining and I have nothing to complain about.”

  “Ahh.” The pretty cashier nodded. “Well, here’s hoping the rest of the week remains the same for us both.”

  She took my money, we said good day to each other, and I left with a smile still on my face. I had a date with a pitcher of margaritas I didn’t want to be late for.