Burn For Me: A MFM Romance (The Banks Sisters Book 3) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Epilogue

  The Banks Sisters Series

  About

  Thank You!

  Mickey

  Hawk

  Liam

  ALSO AVAILABLE

  COMING SOON

  Also by Aja Cole

  Stay Connected!

  About the Author

  Burn For Me

  The Banks Sisters Book Three

  Aja Cole

  Contents

  The Banks Sisters Series

  About

  Thank You!

  1. Mickey

  2. Mickey

  3. Hawk

  4. Mickey

  5. Hawk

  6. Liam

  7. Mickey

  8. Hawk

  9. Mickey

  10. Liam

  11. Hawk

  12. Mickey

  13. Liam

  14. Hawk

  15. Mickey

  16. Liam

  17. Hawk

  18. Liam

  19. Mickey

  20. Liam

  21. Mickey

  22. Hawk

  23. Mickey

  24. Liam

  25. Hawk

  26. Liam

  27. Mickey

  28. Mickey

  29. Mickey

  30. Liam

  31. Hawk

  32. Liam

  33. Mickey

  34. Mickey

  35. Epilogue

  ALSO AVAILABLE

  COMING SOON

  Also by Aja Cole

  Stay Connected!

  About the Author

  The Banks Sisters Series

  Ache For Me - Book 1

  Yearn For Me - Book 2

  Burn For Me - Book 3

  Mickey, a woman who believes she needs to be something she’s not in order to get what she wants.

  Hawk, a businessman who seems intent on making sure she never finds solid ground.

  Liam, an ex-quarterback who’s hot as sin and intent on making sure she knows it.

  Two men that she can’t get off her mind.

  Faced with an impossible choice, what’s a girl to do?

  There’s only one way to find out.

  Join the last Banks sister as she tries to follow her heart…even if it’s split in two.

  Burn For Me is a 45,000 word story with an HEA, explicit sexual situations, and no cliffhangers.

  Burn For Me: A MFM Romance

  Aja Cole

  Copyright © 2017 by Aja Cole.

  All Rights Reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  First Edition December 2017

  To all of my family and friends that have supported me every time I’ve said, “I’m writing a book.”

  I couldn’t have done it without your love and constant encouragement.

  To everyone who reads my books and comes back for more…you fucking rock.

  To my author friends and the people who let me vent and freak out and constantly inspire me to keep going…

  Thank you. I love you all.

  Thank You!

  I just wanted to say a quick thank you for giving my writing a chance, and I hope it gives you everything you’re looking for!

  Burn For Me is the third story in The Banks Sisters series [Book One, Book Two] It is a 45,000 word story with a HEA, explicit sexual situations, and no cliffhangers.

  I like my love scenes steamy and my sweet scenes sappy.

  Now, please enjoy and I hope you love my characters as much as I do!

  ~ Aja Cole

  1

  Mickey

  4 Months Ago

  My alarm blares that bleeping alert sound, like there’s a prison break, and I groggily grope for my phone and paw it until it stops.

  Light isn’t filtering through my room yet, so that means it’s too damn early and my ass isn’t moving an inch from this bed.

  What’s the point of being my own boss if I can’t make my own schedule?

  Exactly. No point at all.

  Dropping my face back to the plush pillow, I start to drift off again.

  “Did you cut that off or is it going to blare in another 10 minutes?” A velvety, sleep ridden voice questions behind me and I squeeze my eyes shut.

  Turning my head slowly, I try to school my surprise at discovering I apparently hadn’t gone to bed alone.

  Wow, I’m not even in my bed.

  Fuzzy images start to play in my mind and I’m at least relieved to realize I’m not hungover.

  I don’t know if that makes it better or worse though because I still don’t know who this man is.

  No name is coming to me.

  “There’s no need for names, this is a one-time thing.”

  The words echo in my mind in my voice, and I mentally smack my forehead.

  See, that’s what happens when you end things with a man you love and you miss being touched.

  Bad Mickey.

  I try to scoot off the side of the bed quickly, setting my phone on the dark wooden nightstand, but a large arm wraps around my waist and pulls me back. Slipping his arms underneath me, he envelops me in his warmth and presses a lingering kiss on my shoulder.

  What in the…

  “Good-mornin’.” The man only laughs at me when I whack the hand that’s creeping up to palm my breasts. I wrack my sleepy brain, trying to remember why exactly I got myself into this morning after predicament.

  I definitely remember fucking him. Heat suffuses my face when I think back to how he held my legs firm as he teased and sucked at my inner thighs, making me scream and beg before he got serious…

  One thing I do know is that the man loves giving head.

  My breath starts to quicken and my nipples bead as the memories draw desire through me. I start to get almost lightheaded, the potent combination of remembered pleasure and morning sleepiness doing nothing for my resistance.

  Encore?

  He begins to nip and suck at my neck, making me shiver in his arms and squirm at the pulses his lips and teeth are sending to my clit.

  Apparently, he learned some things last night.

  I can’t stop myself from arching back into him when he starts to lightly tease the space under my ear with his tongue.

  “Personally, I think we can make it a great mornin’.” His husky declaration vibrates through my body and any thoughts I had of analyzing the why's, how’s, and who’s immediately flee…along with my modesty.

  We’re already here, so…why not?

  Never let it be said that I let a good opportunity go to waste.

  I melt into him and let go of his hands, eyes closing as he brushes his fingers gently over my sensitive nipples before leaving one hand plumping and molding my breast and stroking the other down my abdomen to rest just above my mound. Unashamedly, I wiggle my hips, wanting him to make full and direct contact but he presses down to still me.

  Oh, he thinks I’m going to let him run the show?

  “I don’t want to play this game.” Turning, I nip at his shoulder hard, liking the way I fe
el his cock jump against my leg.

  I have the advantage of having the element of surprise, as I shift and push hard so that he falls off the bed, tangled in the fluffy comforter and sheets. I laugh as I scramble into the bathroom and lock the door behind me.

  Who said adults can’t have fun?

  Whistling, I pretend not to hear his protests as I turn on the double shower and grab a random body wash.

  This is a very nice bathroom. Spacious.

  I tie my hair back quickly with a hairband I had on my wrist and step into the relaxing spray. With the fragrant mango scent of the wash wafting all around me - I clean up quickly.

  Reluctantly, I turn off the perfectly pressured spray and decide it’s probably time to let this man have his bathroom back.

  Wrapping a towel around me from what I discover is a warming rack, I open the door just as he’s about to insert a key into the lock.

  Probably not used to having to unlock his own doors and had to go do a little bit of searching.

  Narrowing his grey eyes, he stalks my steps as I back up to the sinks.

  He’s big. Those muscles weren’t built sitting on his ass, that’s for sure.

  His fridge is probably stocked with kale, strawberries and chia seeds for his smoothies in the mornings. Maybe some avocados for his avocado toast, and a blender bottle.

  “That was quick.” He observes, fingering the knotted top of the cotton covering me.

  “Yep. Stuff to do,” I tell him innocently, breath hitching as I attempt to skirt around him and make it back into the bedroom.

  He’s having none of that. Leaning down so that his chin rests on my shoulder, he speaks directly into my ear. Every muscle in my body clenches and I’m almost panting, listening to him.

  “I am not playing a game, Miz Banks.” He’s got a little southern drawl to him that I didn’t pick up before.

  Gripping one of my legs, he pushes it to the side, causing the bottom of the short towel to part and showcase my smooth slit.

  “I am very…”He picks me up and shoves me back until my back meets the tiled wall in the middle of the sinks and I’ve placed my palms flat on the counter for some type of leverage.“Very serious, and I’ll do what I damned well please.”

  With those words, he widens my legs and proceeds to devour me. I mean, this man has been given the choice of his last meal and he chose me, type of devour.

  I can’t form coherent thoughts, let alone words when he’s focused so intently on bringing me pleasure.

  But more than that, he’s obviously trying to prove a point and succeeding. He’s playing my body like a violin, all skill, and focus.

  I’m a little too distracted to protest right now.

  Sliding his tongue teasingly around my sensitive clit, he circles it over and over until I’m arching my hips to his mouth. My fingers slip and slide on the slightly damp surface as I writhe on the wide counter, completely at his mercy.

  I shout silently, eyes widening. I shouldn’t even be surprised at the pleasure because he gave plenty of it last night.

  Bucking against his relentless mouth, I ride his tongue to a quick climax and flinch when he starts to lap leisurely at my clit. Bringing my hands to his head, I push as my hips dance away on the counter - the sensations after climax causing a mix of laughter and pained moans. Snapping my legs closed, I lift my head to the messily handsome man as he presses his own hands to the mirror. He captures my lips in a demanding kiss, brushing his tongue lightly against mine, and I sigh against him when he retreats.

  Way to not give in, floozy.

  I can’t help the slight smile that tips my lips. Part of life is about the moments that bring you happiness and pleasure, and this definitely falls into that category.

  “I don’t even really know you,” I whisper, caressing his stubble covered jaw. But…any man who can unravel me so quickly is someone I don’t mind getting better acquainted with.

  Physically. Maybe.

  “Everyone starts somewhere.” He runs his nose up my neck, inhaling deeply. He shifts me off the counter and smoothes my towel back out so that it covers me again. “Now go, or I’m going to fuck you again before we can talk.”

  I laugh in surprise as I leave the room, smirking when I still hear him muttering to himself. Most likely, he’s berating himself for not being a caveman and just having his way with me.

  Maybe he sensed my hesitation.

  That’s the only reason I’m not back in that bathroom giving him the fucking of his life.

  I really want to. Really, really want to.

  I also know that when I’m alone later, I’m going to have a lot of thoughts running through my head on why I did this.

  It’s hard to have regrets when my body is still humming pleasantly, though.

  Shuddering as I remember the feel of my earlier orgasm, I drop my towel and pad over to my purse, which is also where I apparently dropped my dress.

  I remember that I was supposed to stay the night with my business partner Sienna after the…

  After a networking event. When we left that, everyone went to a lounge…and that’s where I met him.

  There’s at least a 50% chance that sleeping with this man will have no repercussions on my life at all.

  Pretty good odds.

  I scan the room until I spot a dark suit jacket on the floor, and I rush to it, running my fingers along the inside until I feel a wallet. I take it out triumphantly and flip it open.

  “Hawthorne James,” I mutter.

  His name isn’t familiar to me, but when I flip to a picture of him with his arm around a smiling brunette, I immediately feel sick.

  “Nonononono.” I bring a trembling hand to my lips, nausea rolling through me, and I spring up when I hear the shower shut off.

  Did I just sleep with someone’s husband?

  Get the hell out of here right now.

  I snatch up my dress, thankful that it doesn’t have a zipper as I jerk it over my head and grab my shoes from the floor.

  I just barely remember to grab my phone, and then I practically run to the door.

  I don’t give him a second thought as I leave and catch the first taxi that comes by.

  I watch the buildings pass by and resolve that it’s time to get my life together.

  I make a note to look up this man and find out if I unknowingly helped him be a home-wrecker, but even if I didn’t…it’s just a sign that I can’t be as carefree as I have been in the past.

  Bold & Co. is going through a lot of growth, and it has to be my main priority.

  No more men, no more parties, no more being the wild sister. I’ll be 29 soon, and that’s more than old enough to really start considering more than just what I want in the moment.

  I don’t see that for us, Mickey.

  You’re not that woman.

  I shake away the remembered words and bury them deep. Tonight is not the night I want to re-hash that conversation again.

  Starting now, I’ll be Michaela. An adult, a businesswoman, and someone who has it together.

  Well, okay…Starting tomorrow.

  I have a few pot cookies leftover that I should finish up…

  2

  Mickey

  1 Month Ago

  I sit back in my seat at the head of the table, silently organizing my thoughts.

  “So? You like it?” There’s triumph in Leslie’s blue eyes, and it has a right to be there. She’s put together an amazing concept and a very persuasive presentation on the direction she thinks Bold & Co. should take our marketing.

  But something is off.

  I don’t want to cut her down, but I can’t pretend that the campaign feels right for us.

  “It feels…hollow.”

  Her smile drops, but she regroups quickly, determination settling into her expression.

  That is exactly why we chose her, because Leslie isn’t a quitter and she doesn’t believe in her ego so much that she refuses to take direction.

  That was
very important to us when deciding who we’d allow to pitch us, and then, who we wanted to work with.

  I can deal with a lot of things, but excessive ego? Spare me.

  “Well then darlin’, tell me what’ll give you all the feels.” She clicks off the screen and drops into her chair at the other end of the table, shaking out her blonde curls and flipping open her laptop. “What didn’t you like about it?”

  “It feels too polished, too cookie-cutter. Cookie-cutter is fine, Bold is for all types of women…but I don’t want those women to be the only ones represented. Where’s the diversity? Where are the stretch-marks and the women with unruly curls and bare faces right next to the polished ones?”

  “So you want some of the models to be more natural, more true-to-life?” She scribbles in her notes, and I nod absently.

  “I agree.” Sienna, my business partner, and friend nods. “The Bold woman is comfortable being herself, being whatever makes her happiest, whether that’s all done-up or just rolled out of bed in the morning.”

  “Exactly.” Sienna and I are usually always on the exact same page, which is why we founded Bold in the first place.