Forbidden Fruit

Stacey Steele and Riley Greyson believe that they are soulmates - but their bonds run deeper than they could've ever imagined...


2. First Sight

"It says here that every so often you should sleep with someone considerably less attractive than you." B.B. said. I look up from my computer screen, wondering if I had heard that right. B.B. says the weirdest things, but this was one I couldn't let pass

"What?" I say to her, giving her a look. I can only see from the top of her head down to her eyes, cause she has her nose buried in a magazine. I roll my eyes. B.B. stares back, lowers the magazine, and smiles innocently. Looking at her now, you'd never guess that she was like a sex addict.

"My God, Stace, you need to get your ears cleaned out. I said that every so often you should sleep with someone who is less attractive than you."

"Bloody hell, B.B. is that all you can think about?" I say, sighing. B.B. laughs, and people on the other side of the room look up. I roll my eyes again.


B.B. is my best friend. Her name is actually Briony Beech, but I call her B.B. Out of the two of us, she is the prettiest, the funniest, and the one who got all the guys. I was the quieter, more reserved one, the voice of reason. We'd met when we both started working in this publishing business. Work was usually boring, slow, and nothing much happened, so B.B. entertained herself in random ways, and frequently dragged me into it as well. Today, she'd brought in a selction of magazines and was reading out the, ahem, 'good' parts to me. It's only been half an hour, and she's already annoying the hell out of me.


"Oh, chill, Stace. You worry too much." B.B. says, swishing her hair, and then looking back down at the magazine.

"You don't worry enough. Why are you reading that when you already have a boyfriend? You know, Louis? They guy you live with?" I say sarcastically. B.B sighs, and without looking up, picks up a random magazine, and throws it at me. I duck, and the magazines sails over my head. Her aim is rubbish.

"Yes, I know that I have a boyfriend. This is for your benefit, Stacey. This is to help you." B.B. says.

"I don't need help!" I exclaim indignantly. "You're the one who needs help!"

"Oh yeah? When was the last time you got laid?" B.B. says, looking at me again. Something is very wrong when B.B. doesn't respond to an insult. I furtively glance around, hoping no one heard that. Since no one is staring at us, I return my attention to B.B. She has this strange look in her eyes - she looks focused.

"Em, dunno. Six months?" I say, making a rough guess. I'd broken up with my boyfriend six months ago, and hadn't been with anyone else since. B.B. looks at me like I've just confessed to a murder. Her jaw drops, and she clutches her heart dramatically.

"Omigod, seriously?! Six whole months?! I thought six hours was bad enough!" B.B. gasps. I burst out laughing.

"B.B., you really are too much. And you really do need help." I tell her. B.B tries to hit me with the magazine she's holding. I grab another, and hold it like a shield. Before I know it, I'm locked in mortal combat with her, my weapon: an old copy of Heat.


B.B. abruptly stops trying to hit me. I drop the copy  of Heat, wondering what's up. B.B. is focused on something on the other side of the room. I tap her shoulder, and she doesn't respond.

"Eh, hello? B.B.? Remember me? I'm the one that you tried to kill with a bloody magazine!" I say in her ear. She smacks me on the head.

"Look over there." She points, oblivious to my exclamations of pain. I follow her gaze.


Standing on the other side of the room, was a guy. But not just any guy. This guy was Hot with a capital H. His hair is a golden blond, and it was long and messy, falling around his face with a cheerful disregard for order. His eyes are a warm gold, which makes my heart give a little jolt. There was only two people that I'd ever met who had eyes like that: my dad, and me. The colour seems to suit him much better, though. His skin is tanned - so he's obviously not from around here. He looks like he's just come back from some place sunny, and he's been there for a long time. He's tall, and slim, and strong. I'm willing to bet he has huge biceps, and a six pack at the very least. He's wearing a shirt, black jeans, and high tops, and he looks very hot. His face is beautiful - like Michaelangelo's David, it is rugged and sensitive at the same time.I've never been one for love at first sight, and this was no different - this was lust at first sight. Just looking at him was enough to send hot flashes of desire to my groin. He turns his head, and his eyes meet mine. I feel blood rushing to my cheeks. He smiles at me, and his smile is as sweet as the rest of him. OMG, he even has dimples! I smile back at him. He looks at me for a little longer, and then walks into an office.


"Woah," B.B says softly, distracting me from my ogling. "Hello, Mr Sexy."

"Hey!" I object. "You have a boyfriend! I'm the single one!" B.B. leans back in her chair, and smiles at me. Oh God. It's that smile, the smile that means she has a plan, and God help us all.

"Yes, you are the single one. And he was totally checking you out. Now, on a completely unrelated matter, could you photocopy these for me? Use the photocopier that happens to be outside Mr Sexy's office. Go get him, tiger." B.B says, shoving a stack of paper towards me. She folds her arms, and gives me a self-satisfied smile. Wow, she sure works fast. I can hardly think straight. My mind is dominated by the memory of a pair of pure gold eyes that are just like mine. Normally, I'd be telling her to go herself. I hate that bloody photocopier, especially after B.B. bribed a guy to hide inside it, and jump out at me. I jumped, screamed, and practically shit my pants. But on the other hand... I fancy Mr Sexy so much already.


I scowl at her, and pick up the stack of paper. There's no point in doing this. He won't notice me - and if he does, it'll be because (in true Stacey Steele style) I'll have done a huge faceplant on the floor.

"Swear to God, Briony Beech, if there is someone hiding inside the photocopier, you will be so dead it will look like you were never alive in the first place." B.B. laughs again, even louder this time.

"Oh, Stacey, you crack me up. I'm mean, but not that mean. Now, go!"


I roll my eyes at her, and start walking towards the photocopier. I can feel B.B.'s stare burning a hole in my back. Every step seems to last forever, and my senses are heightened. The hairs on the back of my mind are standing to attention. When I finally get to the photocopier, no one jumps out, which is a good start. I shove the paper in, and stop paying attention to it. What's the point in this? I mean, Mr Sexy is really, well, sexy, but he's never going to notice me. I mean, I'm Stacey Steele. Guys don't fancy me - they only pretend to fancy me so they can get closer to B.B. I sigh. Somedays, it's really depressing when your best friend is prettier, taller, more outgoing and funnier than you.


The photocopier is finished, so I gather up all B.B.'s stuff, and go to walk away. Well, that's the theory. What actually happens is very different. I go to walk away, and instead I collide with a tall, solid body. The force of it knocks me to the ground, the paper's scattering everywhere.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry!" Someone exclaims. A hand comes into my field of vision, and I reach up to take it. And then I see who it belongs to. I see who I've just walked straight in to.


The one and only, Mr Sexy.

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