Page 56 of Forbidden Mistress

I shrug, my hand finding his chest. I press my palm against the faint dusting of coarse chest hair. “And yet…that’s exactly what he did. I don’t know if I can ever forgive him for it.”

He begins stroking my hair absentmindedly. “Life is too short to hold grudges, Little Fawn.”

“Says the quillionare…” I laugh. The absurdity. “I mean, how you could possibly relate? No one would ever dare take anything valuable from you.”

His muscles tighten beneath my hand. “Why would you say that? You don’t know anything about me,” he says stiffly.

I glance up at him, but I can’t see anything. Just blackness. He doesn’t sound angry per se, just…I don’t know…defensive, maybe. “You’re right…so tell me. What has the quillionare had stolen from him?” I keep my voice playful because I sense him building protective walls around himself.

How could he possibly relate to my dad’s business being snatched away from me? People like Hart—or Lucien, or whoever he is—have everything handed to them. It’s so easy for people like him—wealthy, attractive, and powerful. What could he possibly want for?

There’s a long stretch of silence, and I wonder if he’s fallen asleep. Finally, he releases a heavy breath and says, “There’s a woman I’ve loved all my life, and recently, I’ve come to the realization that I’ll never be able to truly have her, no matter how hard I try to convince myself otherwise.”

Those words, spoken in the darkness, give me the impression of a long-held secret that he’s confessing to me. My heart sinks. It’s funny how I’d assumed I was someone special to him. I guess it’s just a fantasy I built in my head. We’ve really only known each other a little over a month, after all.

“Who is she?” I ask, trying to keep my voice from cracking.

He places his hand on mine where it is pressed against his chest. “It doesn’t really matter, does it? We’ll never have a future together, and I’m trying to come to grips with that.”

I swallow. “But…why can’t you be together?” I know I’m prying, but maybe if I understand the reason he can’t be with her, it’ll make me feel better about Hart and me. Which, I have to remind myself yet again, has always been temporary.

“There’s a part of me she can’t accept. That she’ll never be able to accept.”

I rise up onto my elbow, and glance down at him—or where his face should be. “Never is a long time. I’ve found that people grow, and shift, and change.” I don’t know why I’m trying to convince him that the love of his life will eventually accept him. “Or, I don’t know, maybe there’s someone else waiting out there for you.”

Like me.

No, not me.

I have to stop telling myself that Hart and I have anything beyond an incredible sexual connection. He can’t even show me his face, for God’s sake. If that doesn’t scream “I’ve built a wall around myself,” then I don’t know what does. This man isn’t available to anyone other than this mysterious woman he’s in love with.

Hart rises up, forcing me back down flat on the mattress. I can feel his large body looming over me. “Right now, there’s only you and me,” he growls. “Right now, you are the center of my universe.”

My blood pressure skyrockets. Gulp. Okay, well, that makes me feel better.

His large hand skims down my rib cage to the elastic of my panties. His hand dips inside, to the curls between my thighs. “You are like a drug, Little Fawn.” The warmth of his breath brushes across my lips. “I’ve spent the last few weeks obsessed with the taste of you, haunted by the sound of your little moans when you climax. You are in my blood.”

I lift my hips up off the bed. “Oh, really?” I say on breath.

One long finger pushes into me, and he chuckles a little. “You are already wet for me.”

Honestly, I’m wet and ready the second I’m in the same room with him. My body is aware of him on the most basic, primal level.

He swirls his thumb around my clit, teasing the little pearl as his finger moves inside me. In the darkness, I can feel his face close to mine, his breath warm on my cheek. “I want to see your face,” I say, my hips rising and falling with the rhythm of his thrusts.

“No,” he says firmly.

“But why?” I ask, pouting a little. “I want to look into your eyes when I come.”

“You will not see my face,” is his only answer. No reason. No explanation.

I consider pushing the issue, but with his fingers inside me, I’m not feeling very adversarial. Heat swirls inside me, and all thoughts vanish—the worries about my mom, the stress about Liam, it’s all gone. My head is spinning, and I feel myself careening off the edge.

“Do you trust me?” Hart whispers in my ear.

My eyes flutter closed.

I do…

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