"Climbing the Walls is a book like no other, and Sacha T.Y Fortuné has just set the mark high for anything to compete with this read. [...] This is one of the best reads I have read in a very long time, it’s raw, real, it has angst, hot steamy passion and incredible characters twists and turns that leave you wanting and needing more, both Kris & Nicole have their story to tell and boy do they tell it!" Chantelle, Goodreads
Published: July 2018
Real emotion. Real life. Real love. This is NOT a glossy love story. But if you’re looking for a romance read that will rattle you… characters that will change you… and love that will last in your mind long after you’re finished… THIS IS THE ONE FOR YOU.
Kris fell, head over heels over hormones, for the damaged b*tch who became his power-woman sex-goddess wife.
All Nicole wants is to be a better mother, and a wife more worthy of the husband she loves with every fibre of her body, but she is constantly yanked away by her job and her overbearing boss Darren Hart.
But Darren has marital problems of his own – and, when he confides in her, Nicole realises just how easily a happy marriage can crumble.
…Can she keep her own from doing the same?
Told from both points of view, “Climbing The Walls” explores the fibres that hold a marriage together – love, trust, forgiveness… and of course, the earth-shattering sex that will not be denied.
Silence engulfs the room. I lie on the bed, hands behind my head, bareback, thinking. She sits there beside the damp towel, looking at me. It’s the middle of the afternoon on the longest day of both our lives, and the rest of the day looms ahead. Frighteningly. Each of us waiting for the other to make the first move. The first move to determine where our marriage and the rest of our lives are going.
“I missed you,” she says quietly, breaking the silence. She slides down into position beside me on the bed, pulling her feet onto the bed.
I close my eyes slowly, knowing what’s coming next. Knowing it and dreading it, and craving it simultaneously. She leans over me and pushes my hair back from my face to clear my forehead and kiss it. Her lips are soft and wary; it may be days before they return full force to their usual passion. Ah, yes. Too well, I remember my thoughts from the morning of last time we used the rose.
She abandons my forehead and moves south, tracing her lips over my nose and settling on my lips. She pulls away gently, waits a split second and dips back in again. And pulls back, waiting. Waiting. Eyes closed, I can feel the electricity swallowing me whole, pulling me toward her. It’s what she wants. What she needs. She needs me to need her. She needs to be absolutely irresistible, she needs to be my kryptonite.
My reluctance dwindles, pitifully. I have so little resistance. I’ve missed her so much, her lithe body pressing against my side… her eyes moistening and soaking me up, pulling me into her world, her hair draped so tantalisingly over my bare chest, her legs barely touching my skin yet sending out such steady and compelling heat – such warmth, oh God such warmth, her warm fingers pressing ever-so-gently into my cheek, a control mechanism to direct my lips—
Dammit dammit dammit dammit.
So little resistance.
My eyes still closed in utter and absolute bliss, I feel her leg cross over my stomach so that she’s straddling me, rolling onto my body and dragging her fingers through my hair and kissing me hard on the lips, pulling back every few seconds till my helpless body succumbs to her spell and leans forward of its own accord, seeking solace in the soft warmth of her thick and all-powerful lips. Her tongue snakes into my mouth at the same time that she places her right hand in between our stomachs, arching her body back slightly from mine. Teasing me. Good Lord, teasing me. So unfair. So damn unfair. After the last few days I’ve had, after the torture I’ve been through. She’s always had all the control, she loves separating us with that sole hand, her torso muscles tensed and taut and teasing.
Oh Good Lord. God Almighty. Stop teasing me. Stop taunting me. Stop tearing me apart. Stop… good God, STOP. Please, for the love of God, STOP.
“STOP!” The vehemence of my own words jars me, and she pulls back abruptly, jaw ajar and eyes exhibiting awe.
I wriggle out from under her until I’m standing on two shaky feet on the carpeted floor beside my marital bed. “I can’t—I can’t do this. I won’t.”
About the author:
Sacha T. Y. Fortuné hails from the twin islands of Trinidad and Tobago in the Caribbean, and she considers herself a “citizen of the world” [Read her “30 Day Truth Challenge” here – go to Day 16].
Her passion for writing began in her early childhood, when she channeled her active imagination into writing short stories, poems and full-length novels for her friends.
The winner of several writing awards during her childhood, she became the President of the Writers’ Guild at Lancaster University in Lancaster, UK, where she contributed some poems and short stories to Lancaster University’s Writers’ Guild Anthologies during 2005-2007.
With her BA in Media & Cultural Studies under her belt, she went on to complete her MA in International Journalism at the University of Westminster in London, UK.
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