Page 7 of Forbidden Love, Part One

“I’ll get the first aid kit.”

I nodded. “It’s in the cupboard above the sink in the bathroom.”

Upon further inspection of the cut, I found that it wasn’t that deep. Sure, there was a lot of blood, but the damage itself hadn’t looked like it would even leave a scar. I was glad because I had work to get done and I couldn’t exactly do that if I was down a foot.

When Trisha came back to the living room, I glanced at the small cuts that she was sporting on her shins and calves. It was only when she stepped in front of me that I realized her entire foot was covered in cuts that were almost too small to see.

“Here you go,” she said.

I didn’t look up at her. All I saw was that she was bleeding. Had it been what I said to her last night that pissed her off so much? If it was, then she was bleeding because of me. And that didn’t exactly sit well with me.

She took a seat next to me, dragging my gaze to her face. I was convinced that there was never a face that was prettier than hers.

“Let me help you with it,” she said, offering me a small smile. I felt the familiar zap of energy as she hauled my leg up onto the cushion so that she could start tending to the wound. Keeping my eyes on her face, I couldn’t tell whether she’d felt the same energy that I did.

“It’s really okay,” I said attempting to pull my foot back.

“Let me,” she insisted. I could see the regret that was painted on her face. It was as real as the blood that trailed from the kitchen to the couch.

She didn’t deserve to feel that. She didn’t need to feel it.

Her small hands were gripped around my thigh, holding my leg in place.

Trisha sighed heavily. “There’s only so many times that I can screw up.” I heard the way her voice cracked at the end of that statement.

I didn’t know what came over me then. But there was a pull between us. Maybe it was the fact that she was sitting so close to me…or maybe it was the fact that I no longer wanted to continue acting like I didn’t feel what I felt toward her. Her skin called to me then. And in the past five years, I’d learned to refuse that call. But now that she was sitting right next to me, there was no way that I could block it out.

I brought my thigh down from her lap, making her give me a broken glare. I closed the space between us and kissed her.

Chapter Five

Trisha

Marshall’s mouth on mine was hot and demanding in a way that I didn’t know a man’s mouth could be. I immediately melted into the kiss. I didn’t care if this was some spur-of-the-moment thing for him or if he’d regret it once it was done. All that I knew was that it felt good.

His tongue moved around mine in frantic circles, immediately starting the kiss at a hard, fast pace. I met him every step of the way. His hands cupped my face as he continued kissing me passionately.

My body sat limp as my mouth continued to move on his.

And that was when my mind caught up to what was happening.

I pushed him away, both of us breathing heavily.

His eyes which were usually so well-contained were wild and looked like he’d completely lost control at that moment.

“W—what was that for?” I breathed. “I thought you hated me?”

He looked at my lips and then let his eyes roam my body freely. “I do.”

He lunged at me a second time and our lips collided. This time, I let myself fall back into the couch. He came along with me. My hands were all over his hard, toned body. Beneath his shirt, climbing up his washboard abs and gliding over the soft skin stretched over hard muscle on his back.

Marshall touched my body with the same hunger that I had for him. I arched when his fingers found their way to my nipples while his other hand held my thighs wide open for him to settle his body between.

He moved to my jaw and started trailing kisses from beneath my ear to my neck.

“I thought you were bleeding,” I gasped. “We have to get to that first.” Even as I said the words, I didn’t halt his actions nor did I stop mine.

“There are more urgent matters at hand,” he replied, pressing his hips into mine so that I could feel the protrusion at the front of his pants.

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