Page 53 of Forbidden Mistress

A little over a half hour later, because he mostly exceeded the speed limit and we rode in complete silence, Liam pulls up in front of Hill House. The second he cuts the engine, I reach out to open the door, but he quickly hits the auto-lock, preventing me from opening the door. I expel a breath and pound a fist once on the window in frustration.

He wraps a large hand around my elbow. “Wait, Cass. Don’t do this. Let’s clear the air between us once and for all.”

I half-turn to face him, and before I can even say anything, he reaches up and threads his hand through my hair, cupping the back of my head. And then, shockingly, he pulls me into a kiss.

Everything in me screams out in protest, and yet my body…fuck that treacherous bitch. I sink against him and, in spite of the faint protest in my brain, just give into it. His tongue invades my mouth, taking absolute control. His grip on the back of my head tightens, pulling me closer, deepening the kiss.

This is the first time we’ve ever physically acted on the simmering sexual tension between us and…wow. I’ve been missing out. He tastes like the coffee he just drank after dinner, and it feels like we just meld together easily. I reach up and place my hands on his shoulders, my fingertips biting into the fabric of his shirt.

Heated flames of sexual energy lick at me from the inside, igniting a similar need to the one I’ve recently found with Hart. It’s so crazy how similar the two men are—how they both feel, how they move, even how they kiss. I wonder if the reason I chose Hart is because he’s so like Liam. Like, in some subconscious mind-fuck kind of way, I’ve played myself. Freud would have a field day with this.

Liam’s hand finds my breast. He slips his hand down my low neckline, beneath my bra, to cup my naked breast. When he squeezes, I moan a little, moving my hand up to thread through his thick hair.

Fuck, he’s a good kisser. And I’m being pulled over by an overwhelming wave of desire. Pressure builds in my core, and I feel like I might come just from him kissing and fondling me. I release a low moan against his mouth.

“God, Cass…I need to fuck you,” he says against my lips, his voice husky and even a little frantic. I’m so used to hearing him cool, calm, and collected that it jars me a little—and I’m suddenly pulled into the present, aware of what’s happening.

Ripping myself away from him, I press back against the passenger door and stare, wide-eyed, in shock as my breath comes hard. Still in shock, I straighten my dress as Liam stares at me with smoldering eyes, his own solid chest rising and falling. Holy shit. What just happened? What did I just allow to happen?

I hold my hand up to my mouth. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God.”

He reaches out for me again, and I press my back flat against the door. “Unlock this door, Liam. Do it right now.”

“Promise me, if I do, you won’t run before we talk.”

I swallow. “Yes, sure. Just unlock it.” It’s a lie, of course, and the minute he presses the button to unlock, I open the door and bolt.

“Cass, wait…”

But I do the exact opposite. I launch out of the car, promptly slamming the door shut, then sprint up the walkway to Hill House. I hear the car door open, but I don’t look back, pushing through the front door and slamming it behind me.

Once I’m inside, I rest my back against the door, the breath heaving out of my lungs. I can’t believe what just happened. His mouth, his hands, the unreleased sexual tension tightening in my core.

“Hey, Cassie,” Haley says. She’s sitting on the couch, open books and papers surrounding her. “Everything okay?”

I push off the door and head toward the staircase. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”

But I’m not fine. Not even close.

Chapter 23

In the Dark

There’s a knock on the bedroom door.

“Cassie!” It’s Sam. “Haley said you came in all flustered. I wanted to check on you.”

“I’m fine,” I call out, my heart still thudding violently against my ribs. I can’t breathe, actually. And I’m feeling a bit lightheaded. Am I having a heart attack?

I’m trying to figure out what to do when my door pops open. I hadn’t locked it. Damn.

“You don’t sound fine,” Sam says, hand on her hip. She stands in the doorway, looking me up and down. “What’s going on?”

I rub my breastbone and take a deep breath. “I think I’m having a heart attack.” My hand snakes up to the base of my neck, pressing two fingers to the base of my throat, feeling for my pulse. I try to count each heartbeat, but I can’t stay focused.

“Racing heart? Shortness of breath? Light-headedness?” she asks flatly, not an ounce of concern in her voice.

“Yes, yes, and yes,” I answer.

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