January's First: Kisses at Midnight Read online

  January's First

  Kisses at Midnight

  Frankie Love

  Contents

  January’s First

  1. Josh

  2. January

  3. Josh

  4. January

  5. Josh

  6. January

  7. Josh

  8. January

  9. Josh

  Epilogue 1:

  Epilogue 2:

  More Kisses At Midnight Stories!

  Other Winter Romances by Frankie Love

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2019 by Frankie Love

  Edited by Zoe Nightingale

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  January’s First

  I’ve been in love with January since the moment I met her.

  She was off-limits then. And nothing’s changed now.

  But when I see her on NYE, all grown up, I can’t help myself.

  I’ve waited a long ass time to make this resolution more than a fantasy.

  It’s time to make the girl of my dreams mine.

  I’m a man who lives alone in the desert.

  She’s a posh princess in the city-- and my ex-stepsister.

  But this year, she’s gonna be more than that.

  I’m gonna be her first.

  And she’s gonna be my last.

  Dear Reader,

  Josh has a hard-on for January, and he’s been waiting all his life for show and tell.

  It’s a little insane, a whole lot dirty, and a banging start to the New Year!

  You grab some bubbly; I’ll toss the confetti, and let’s watch these two make some fireworks.

  xo, frankie

  Januaury’s First is just one book in the Kisses at Midnight Collection!

  Don’t forget to check out the others!

  His Resolution by Dani Wyatt

  and

  New Year, New Eve by Hope Ford!

  Chapter One

  Josh

  It’s the last thing I want to do, but there’s no getting around it. The year comes to a close at midnight, and my boss needs this paperwork, with my signature, before the end of the working day.

  If it were any other boss, for any other job, I wouldn’t bother with any of the bullshit — driving through the city at rush hour, when everyone and their dog are gearing up to get wasted as they ring in the New Year. But the man I work for is someone I deeply respect. Someone I’ve looked up to for a long-ass time, and I’d never put him in a bind.

  I lock up my place in the desert, jump in my SUV, and head for the highway — knowing it’s the right thing to do. Still, there’s a reason I started working from home. A reason why I moved three hours outside of Los Angeles to the middle of nowhere. Why I avoid the city like the plague.

  It’s not why most people think — they assume I was sick of the smog, the traffic, the rise, and grind. That has nothing to do with it.

  But I can’t even correct them.

  Because there are some things you can talk about, and some things you can’t.

  January Jones is the kind of thing you can’t discuss.

  She’s the reason why I stay so far away from the office. And the reason I’m still a goddamn virgin.

  I’m holding out hope, as crazy as it is. That one day, our stars will align.

  It’s always been her— and she has always been off-limits.

  My cock twitches just thinking about her smile, her laugh, the way she can take a tense situation and make it light.

  Not to mention her curves. So many curves it makes my balls ache. Hell, just the memory of her tits showcased in one of her tight sweaters, has me rolling down the car windows to cool off. With the click of a button, I pull up my list of podcasts and hope like hell it gets my mind off January.

  The podcast, Take Charge, is all about being a leader. At Jones PR, I oversee employees and give the green light on which concepts to pitch to our biggest clients. I come into the city once a week for meetings, but besides that, I do my work best when I’m alone.

  Also, without any threat of seeing January.

  The podcast host is interviewing a woman about her revolutionary spatulas. It seems like a simple enough product, but apparently, they are better than the ones in the marketplace.

  Listening to it is supposed to get my mind off January, but suddenly I’m thinking about holding a spatula in one hand and bending her over the counter with another. Fuck. Stuff like this always happens. Constantly. Everything brings me back to the girl I love, and can’t have.

  At least I’m in the city now, and as I pull into a street parking spot, I urge my cock to settle down. I get out of the car and see a couple on the sidewalk, loud and drunk, bottles of champagne in hand. It sloshes on my feet. I scowl. Why the hell didn’t I park valet?

  “Sorry, bro,” the guy says.

  The girl he’s with is practically falling out of her dress, and she stumbles as she walks, falling to her knees. He reaches for her hand a minute too late, and she whines, asking him to help. He does, but it takes him a beat too long.

  I want to tell the guy to take better care of his girl. Because if I had a girl – if I had January-- I would sure as hell would make sure she never tripped on a goddamn sidewalk. I’d lift her in my arms and carry her home, tuck her in, and make sure to take proper care of her.

  It’s not about the fact that girl was half-dressed either. I’m all about women dressing how they want, whenever they want. I only care about my girl not being in a compromising situation.

  It’s one of the reasons being around January is so painful. I want to be the person to watch over her — but I can’t.

  It damn near kills me.

  It’s not that I’d want to wrap January in a burlap sack and hide her away— no. She loves dressing on the edge of what judgmental people consider appropriate. It’s something I love about her — her confidence. It’s cute as fuck, and I don’t mind the view of her in her tiny little skirts, her five-inch heels, her push up bras. But damn, I wish I was the man holding her fucking purse.

  In the elevator, I tell myself to get a goddamn grip. I’m here for thirty minutes — tops. Then I will be back home in time to ring in the New Year solo.

  The elevator door slides open, and I start to step out, but I stop in my tracks.

  There she is in all her glory.

  January Jones.

  Chapter Two

  January

  Coming here is always a nail-biting situation.

  At any given moment, I might run into Josh.

  The Josh. The Josh, who was my first crush, my first fantasy, my first orgasm.

  I mean, he doesn’t know about any of that. Those were all solo adventures. But I’ve always hoped that one day he might see me and realize I’m not a little girl. That I am now grown up and more than willing to be his.

  Of course, there are a few problems with this daydream. Mostly, the fact Josh is my ex-stepbrother. But he also works for my father.

  This is why coming in here is so damn scary and also so thrilling. At any given moment, I might just run into the man I want.

  I fan myself with my file folder. I need to cool down, get a grip. Seeing Josh is the last thing I need. Whenever I see him, I get flustered and start repeating myself and can’t make a coherent sentence.

  And today I need to be all sorts of put together. Grown-up. Professional.

  I need my father to take my business proposal seriously
.

  The meeting at Dad’s office today is a pitch presentation. I’m not holding my breath. For the last year, I’ve tiptoed around what I’m doing all the time. I’m sure he has some idea, but I don’t exactly ask him to weigh in on my designs. I don’t ask him what he thinks of the lacy pieces of fabric in my sewing room I use to make lingerie.

  He wouldn’t get it.

  But really, what father would want to know about his little girl making crotchless panties and corsets? None, probably.

  But I need an investor. And my father has the capital. I’ve been too chicken to ask all year, but my time is up. I have to ask him now, or I’ll never forgive myself.

  Not ready to face Dad, I veer into the staff lounge and make myself a quick espresso. The fancy-pants machine brews it in two seconds flat, and I add a packet of sugar, give it a stir, and then I toss it back.

  It’s probably as wild and crazy as I’m gonna get tonight. I’ll probably cry myself to sleep. I had one goal this year. ONE. That was to launch my own business.

  But I’m in the same place as I was twelve months ago.

  I suck at resolutions. Or maybe my business proposal sucks.

  Regardless, I haven’t made any real progress. I scheduled and rescheduled this pitch with my dad about eight times. It’s time to put up or shut up.

  “Hey, January.” Liza, my dad’s new intern, asks, “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t someone like you be at home getting ready to go out to a club for New Year's?”

  “Someone like what?” I ask, frowning.

  She smirks, looking me up and down. Looking at my white thigh-high boots, my gauzy pink mini dress with cherry red bows all over it, then pursing her lips together as she gives my cleavage inventory. Yes, my boobs are big. Yes, they are on display. Yes, this is how I like them. I feel cute in this dress, and I’m not dressing for Liza anyways. I’m dressing for me.

  I’m used to this. Getting the once over, or the raised eyebrows, or even the simpering laugh. There are also jokes and the snide comments that are intentionally louder than a whisper.

  They don’t bother me anymore.

  “Someone who dresses like a baby doll,” she laughs.

  I smile, pulling out my bubblegum pink lip gloss from my white, faux fur purse, and give my lips a fresh coat. “Well, if I look like a child, I suppose I wouldn’t be allowed at any clubs, would I?” I roll my eyes and leave her in the kitchen. I know she is eyeing my hemline as I walk away, and I figure to let her have at it. Maybe it will be an inspiration.

  Still, I know what my father is going to think when I walk into his office. He’s always worked in an office. Maybe he thinks a businesswoman should wear a pantsuit with a sensible heel.

  I don’t think that’s the case — Dad is a good man who respects women. And his ethics have rubbed off on Josh over the years. This is a good thing since Josh’s mother cheated on my father when they were briefly married.

  Hmmm. Maybe if Dad rejects me, I can get Josh to look at my proposal. Even as I think it, I realize it’s a terrible idea. Josh may be sensible, but he still thinks of me as a kid. As the annoying teenager who was desperate for attention when our parents were married.

  Their marriage didn’t last long, only two years. But Josh spent his college breaks and holidays with us during that time.

  He always acted like I was annoying to be around. He wouldn’t take me with him to parties, to concerts, or even to the beach. He always had an excuse. So, yes, he is the smartest man I know, but he also doesn’t enjoy my company.

  Which sucks on so many levels.

  The biggest one being I have had a crazy crush on him since the day he walked into my father’s mansion and introduced himself as my stepbrother.

  I remember my jaw dropping, my heart racing, my body waking up in a way it never had before.

  But no matter how much I flirted, tried to get his attention, or made my intentions crystal clear — he didn’t so much as give me a second look.

  I stopped taking it personally a few years ago.

  But it doesn’t mean my feelings have changed.

  Josh is the one and only man I’ve ever wanted. He’s the reason I named my lingerie brand Unrequited Love. It’s the only kind of love I know.

  Knowing that this line of thinking isn’t going to make me into a #GirlBoss, I walk from the staff lounge down the hall toward my father’s office, determined to get what I want. If I can’t have Josh, at least maybe I can have a career.

  However, I don’t get very far because as I pass the elevator bank, there he is.

  Josh Winters.

  His eyes widen as he takes me in.

  And it’s not the same kind of eye-widening that Liza gave me. No. When Josh looks at me, it’s like he sees me.

  I bite my bottom lip, stopping in my tracks, telling myself that it isn’t true. Josh doesn’t like me. Not like that.

  But God, I wish he loved me the way I love him.

  Chapter Three

  Josh

  I don't expect to see her here, or I would never have come. But there she is looking as beautiful and as off-limits as ever. Yes. The truth is I am desperately in love with my stepsister, well ex-stepsister.

  The problem is I know how she still sees me. She sees me as the guy who was forced into her life, taking the time and attention of her father from her and the guy who should have left after my mom and her dad divorced. I think she has always seen me as someone in the way, forcing themselves into her family, but that couldn't be further from the truth.

  I can't exactly explain that to her without revealing that she cast a spell on me when I was twenty years old and how now four years later, nothing's changed. It's only gotten worse. Hell, why else would I have moved out of the city? I couldn't bear to see her. I couldn't handle looking at her, craving her, and knowing I couldn't have her. Yet, here she is on New Year's Eve, looking like a piece of candy in her tiny pink dress. I want to eat her; all of her.

  “Josh,” she says, her voice high and full of surprise. “What in the world are you doing here?”

  I frown. January knows I work for her father. I hold up the file in my hand. “I had some paperwork to deal with… and I work here,” I say, trying to understand her question.

  “Oh, right, of course. You work here with my dad. I forgot.” She laughs loudly. “Well, it's just so weird seeing you. I guess… I-I um… Well, I’ll see you later. Bye.” She waves her hand and starts walking away, quickly, like she can't get away from me fast enough.

  I grunt, watching her turn away in those high heeled boots. Her hemline short enough for me to see plenty of her ass. I grind my teeth together, wanting so much to grab her by the waist and pull her to me, to clear the papers off a desk, and sit her down to give her a lesson, an order, to provide her with everything.

  I can’t let her walk away.

  I catch up to her. “You're here to see your dad?”

  “Yeah, I am. What about you?” January asks. “Oh wait, I already asked that. You work here. Right, that makes sense. Okay, then.”

  “Is something wrong?” I ask. “You are acting very frazzled.”

  “Frazzled?” She smiles, stops, and turns to me. “I don't think I've ever heard you use that word.”

  “No?” I run a hand over my jaw. “Are you sure you're okay? You seem a little spun up.”

  Her eyebrows lift. “Why would I be spun up? I'm here to see my father.” She pulls a folder from under her arm and waves it at me wildly. “This is why I'm here. I am going to march into his office, and I'm going to tell him what I need and — “

  A cough behind us cuts her off. We turn to find her dad standing right there. He takes the folder from her hand.

  “January? What are you doing here?” He hugs his daughter.

  “I have a meeting. With you. For an investment pitch, in fact.” She squeezes her eyes shut. She presses her fingertips to her temples, then draws in a deep breath and exhales. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

 
Maxwell Jones shakes his head, then looks at me. “Josh, do you know what she’s talking about?”

  I look at the folder in his hand that he took from January. I had no idea she wanted to start a business. My interest is piqued and not just because I have a thing for this girl. It's because I think January is smart and exciting and creative in ways other women aren't. At least, the women I’ve met aren’t. If she has an idea for something, I damn well know I would endorse it, and I don't even know what the hell it is.

  “Come into my office, Josh. We can finish this paperwork.” Maxwell waves me to follow.

  “But I have a pitch meeting,” she says.

  Maxwell cocks his head to the side. “What are you talking about? Is this the thing you’ve been scheduling and canceling all year?”

  January swallows. My cock gets hard at the movement. She shouldn’t do that around me; it makes me fucking insane.

  “I’m here now. And I want— “

  Maxwell cuts her off. “I’m busy, sweetheart, and I have plans tonight. It’s New Year's Eve. Come in, both of you. Let’s get this finished so we can get on with our plans.”

  I follow him and January walks behind me, I turn to look at her. She’s twisting her hands together nervously as her heels click-clack against the varnished floor. Inside the office, I hand over the paperwork that's signed, and Maxwell flips through it, giving his approval. His secretary rushes in and takes it from his hand without even needing to be called.

  January smooths out her dress and then coughs to clear her throat. She opens a laptop and clicks the keypad with her long nails, pulling up a slide show presentation. “Okay, Dad,” she begins.