Page 48 of The Forbidden
And I’ve always been the biggest sinner of them all.
Ever since that night in the elevator, I’ve thought of nothing else but kissing her again.
Fuck. I really am screwed.
And not just because Anais has more of a hold on me than I’d like to admit.
But in a very real, veryHarrison’s-gonna-fucking-kill-meway.
Anais pulls back just enough to speak, her breath fanning across my skin. “You’re kissing me,” she breathes, and it goes straight to my cock. “Not to distract me. Because you want to,” she whispers, her lilac eyes flashing with hope.
My head tilts, and I grit my teeth. Trust Anais to stop the best kiss of my life to point out the obvious.
“Well, not anymore I’m not.” I can’t help the bite in my tone.
Her expression turns smug. “I knew you liked me.”
Taking a step back, I slide my hands into my pockets. Amusement flickers inside me. Like her? I don’t know if that’s what I’d call it. “You’re getting ahead of yourself, Brat.” I drawl; my eyebrow cocked sardonically. “It was a kiss - mediocre at best, might I add. Not a fucking marriage proposal.”
Her gaze sharpens. A moment of silence passes between us. And then she laughs. She fucking laughs like I haven’t just made the biggest mistake of my life, by encouraging her. “You do. You like me,” she insists, her eyes twinkling. “The cold and untouchable Evan Maxwell likes me.” She straightens to her full height. Even in those heels she barely reaches my chin. “A kiss from you may as well be a marriage proposal.” She smirks. “You’re as cold as ice, Evan. I thawed you. That’s means something.”
I run a frustrated hand through my hair, never looking away from her. From the outside, I’m the picture of cool, calm and collected. But inside? I’m on the edge of something I can’t undo. I’m never usually reckless. If anything, I’m calculated. Every move I make well thought out.
Except this one.
“What it means,” I say coldly. “Is I’ve clearly gone too long without sex if I’m willingly kissingyou.” My lips curl in disdain.
I hope the insult is enough to get her the hell away from me. I should’ve known better. Of course it doesn’t. If anything, she looks even more smug.
Jesus fucking Christ. I’m never going to live this down.
Or recover from it…that annoying voice who can also fuck off makes itself known.
Anais chuckles, rolling her eyes in an over exaggerated manner. “Oh, please. You can deny it all you want, Evan.” She steps forward. My muscles stiffen, as my heart thunders in my chest. Her scent infiltrates my senses, causing my brain to short circuit. Against my better judgement, I inhale, breathing her in. She reaches out, running a manicured finger along my tie. My breath lodges in my throat. And when she peeks up at me with those lilac eyes, her long lashes fluttering against her high cheekbones, I’m five seconds away from ripping off her dress and burying my cock inside her. “But I know better. You want me.” She tilts her head, staring as if she can see straight through me. “And you can have me, Evan. All you have to do is stop fighting whatever this is.”
I stare at her, jaw clenched, lips parted, about to deny her again, when the door bursts open. Anais stumbles forward, crashing into my chest. Instinctively, I catch her.
Jameson steps in, pausing when he sees us. His gaze flicks to the woman in my arms. A smirk tugs at his mouth. “Ah, there you are. Your father’s looking for you.”
Clearing my throat, I steady Anais on her feet, release her and take a step back. I shoot Jameson a glare as he glances between us, far too amused for my liking.
“You okay, Anais?” he asks, his voice laced with amusement.
“I’m fine,” she says sweetly, turning to face him with a smile that I fucking hate, because it’s directed at my friend and not me. “Evan just wanted to discuss appropriate dress codes at these events.”
Jameson’s amused expression comes to me, before his gaze roams over her dress.
My jaw clenches, and I barely resist the urge to lunge at my friend.
“You look fine to me,” he says.
I shoot him a look that promises retribution.
“Thank you,” she whispers, her cheeks tinting pink.
My eyes narrow on the color staining her flawless face. That blush should only ever be for me.
Irrational? Yes.
