Page 63 of Forbidden Mistress

He pushes out a laugh. “Devil’s advocate. I’d like to see you repair things with your brother. Family is all we have sometimes. And we never know how long it will last…”

I push out a heavy breath. “Well, we’ll see. If he stops being an arrogant asshole, then maybe we’ll talk. What about you? Are you close with your family?”

He shrugs one shoulder. “My parents were divorced when I was quite young. I’ve always had a good relationship with my mum. My relationship with my bio dad is dodgy. I had to spend part of the summer with him as a kid. We don’t speak much nowadays.”

Well, he’s close with his mom, and that’s a good sign. “Siblings?”

That tightness in his body reappears. He takes in a long breath and releases it. “No.”

Hmm. Maybe he always wanted siblings? I can understand that. When the sibling relationship is good, it can be really good. But when it’s bad…God, it can be devastatingly painful. I should know. I’ve experienced both.

“That’s probably for the best. You’re really annoying,” I say with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

His deep chuckle vibrates against my cheek, and I’m filled with a sense of contentment. Is this what being in a fulfilling relationship is like? I’ve honestly never gotten this far—the place where we cuddle and share secrets. It’s weird because I feel like I know Hart on a deeper level than the short time we’ve spent with each other should reflect. Or maybe it’s just my imagination or wishful thinking.

“What is your deepest fear?” I ask him. Because it’s nothing about his past, necessarily, I’m hopeful he’ll answer it.

He’s silent, considering, then he says, “Of never really being loved for who I am.”

I smile against his chest. It’s such a painfully sweet answer, and it makes my heart ache. I rise up onto one elbow and look down at him. “You’re intelligent, successful, devastatingly handsome…what’s not to love?” I’m teasing him, but it’s true.

He sighs like he’s being weighed down by regret. “I’ve made decisions that have pushed away the ones I love.”

Is he talking about that woman again? I swallow back the acrid taste of jealousy. “I have no idea what you’ve done, or not done, but almost anything can be forgiven,” I say.

“Oh, really? So you would forgive your stepbrother?” he asks.

I think about it for a second. Liam has done some pretty shitty things in the name of greed, but… “Honestly, if he were truly contrite and worked to improve things between us, then I might consider it. It’s the trust that’s difficult to restore.”

Hart nods, deep in thought.

I’m desperate to ask him what he did to make so many enemies within his family, but I don’t dare. He’ll tell me if and when he wants to.

He rolls onto his side, half on top of me. His hand slides down my thigh, slipping to the heat between my thighs. “I don’t want to talk about past regrets.” His mouth hovers inches above mine, his breath bathing my lips in warmth. “All that matters is me and you, and this moment.”

I smile up at him, gazing deep into his brown eyes in the very dim light. He wants a distraction from the pain our conversation has unearthed, and I’m here for it. It’s well after midnight and we just got done fucking for hours, but I’m happy to be the only distraction he will ever need.

I know I shouldn’t think that way. I know this thing between us is temporary, but I can’t help it. I feel a connection with Hart that I’ve never felt with anyone before.

Correction, I’ve never allowed myself to feel with anyone before.

Chapter 26

Tangled Web

I stare up into his masked face, and his beautiful lips pull up into a smile. “Spread your legs for me.”

Delicious heat wends its way through my body. Just the sound of his deep, accented baritone sets my pulse racing. I’m already putty in his hands. Swiftly, I spread my thighs, eager to find out what he has planned for me.

His long finger dips inside me. “You’re already wet,” he says, amused.

“Yes.” The word catches in my throat. I’m so keyed up already that I find it hard to speak.

“That pleases me, Little Fawn. So beautiful. So ready to fuck.”

With that, he pushes up off the bed and walks across the room, bends over his bag, takes something out, then returns to me. I can’t see what he has in his hand until he places something cold on my stomach, but not the knife. I reach up to feel it, looking down. It’s heavy and metallic, with pearl-sized orbs linked together on a string.

He also has a tube in his hand and squeezes a dollop of something onto the tip of his fingers. “Remain very still,” he commands. “This will feel strange at first.”

---