Page 38 of Forbidden Obsessions

I know that stammer. I shield my eyes. “Mia, should I go?” Just as I question, Matt emerges, saliva and God only knows what else dripping from his chin.

“Um, oh my God. Didn’t know I was interrupting something. You kids carry on. Have a great time. Love you. Bye,” I call, shutting the door, and heading back out to my car.

I’m a few minutes from Tomas’ when Mia calls. “Can you help me with a surprise proposal?” I ask, hopeful.

“Absolutely,” Mia sings, piercing my eardrums.

“Can you round-about-ly ask Tomas who to contact about renting the cabin? He keeps it locked down at all times, and well, that’s our spot, you know?”

“I’ll find out,” Mia promises. “How soon?”

“Soon, like, tomorrow? My mom is stopping treatment.”

“Oh, Liv. I’m sorry,” Mia sighs.

“Me, too. Well, I gotta go. Tomas tried to break up with me earlier, and I need to convince him it’s a really stupid idea. I think we’re okay now, but I don’t know.”

“Go suck that man’s soul out of his dick, friend.”

“Yeah, likewise. Good to hear you’re back.” I laugh, shaking my head. I’m so happy she and Matt came back to their senses.

“Gotta go. Love you,” I say, hanging up as I pull into the driveway.

“Hi,” Tomas says as I climb the porch stairs. He looks more like himself, trading his recently grown beard for stubble.

“Whatcha doing?” I take the rocking chair next to him, opting to enjoy the beautiful weather. It seems as good of a time as any to clear the air between us, too.

“Waiting for you.” He studies my reaction carefully. A wide grin plays on my face.Waiting for me on the front porch.Suddenly, I can see it: Tomas and I are sitting out here, sipping our coffee, watching the neighborhood, and reading our books—smut for me, peer-reviewed nonsense for him.

“Not to break up with me again, right?” I ask, pretending to be horrified. His eyes widen.

“That isn’t happening any longer, right? Like you came to your senses and realize you didn’t and do not take advantage of me, yes?”

“Yeah, I realize you take advantage ofme,actually.”

“Tell that to my bruised pharynx.”

“Actually, I’d love to have a little chat with it,” he smirks.

“Right now?” I ask, surprised.

“Mhm. I’ve missed you,” he muses. Tomas stands, pulling me into his arms. His familiar scent of sandalwood and musk engulf me, like an old friend whispering reassurance in the darkest of nights.

Tomas ushers us into the living room and gives me a small kiss like he’s testing the waters. “I tried to do what I felt was the right thing, Liv. Give you space to breathe and process. Sometime over the course of the week, I started getting caught up in the belief that you would be better off without me.”

“That wasn’t true then, and it’s not true now. Would you ever let me say that about you?”

“Absolutely not,” he agrees. Caging me against the wall, he brings his lips to mine again. There’s no asking or hesitation this time. Our mouths crash together in a frenzied dance, giving and taking.

Tomas pulls away suddenly. “I’m sorry,” he rasps against my lips. Sorrow grips me for the umpteenth time today. “I’m sorry for hiding the information about your mom from you. I promise I’ll never keep anything from you again.” His head falls to my shoulder.

Cupping his jaw, I force Tomas to look at me.

“I don’t want to talk right now.” Rich caramel eyes drag over me. My body is an inferno, alight with nerves and anticipation under his gaze. Featherlight fingertips snake down my arms and waist, raising goosebumps in their wake.

“We won’t talk, then.” The warmth of his breath tickles against my ear. I’m antsy, waiting for his fingers to brush lower and lower. My hands grasp at the hem of his shirt, silently urging him to pull it overhead. I certainly missed the hard, sculpted lines of his body this week.

While I spent this week cooling off, coming to terms with my mom’s diagnosis, Tomas’ omission, and the unexpected horror that unfolded with Nathan, there were so many spontaneous things I missed about him. His infectious laugh, his dark, honeyed brown eyes, his deep, soft voice—rich and seductive. What I missed the most were his hands. A simple palm on my back or my knee, reassuringly steady and present, or fingers drawing circles on my knuckles, soothing my anxious soul with a single touch.

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