How could he? How could he say that, how could he make that promise? When all along, he knew he was harboring the biggest secret of all?
My stomach flips again, and I have to pause to lean back against the hard paneled wall of the therapists’ office, feeling sick to my stomach. Tears sting at the backs of my eyes. That nasty little voice returns triply loud, far worse than ever before.
You see? it hisses in my ear. I told you this was too good to be true. Of course a man like Lark could never fall for a girl like you. Nobody wants you.
I press my hand over my mouth to stifle the sound, all too aware of the distant ping of the elevator, the low chatter of Lark and Sheryl’s voices as they climb into it. I manage to hold it together until the voices disappear. Until I’m alone in the empty hallway, the minutes ticking away, my therapy appointment entirely forgotten.
Only then do I let the tears fall down my face, and the cries shake my shoulders.
Because right there and then, I realize what I need to do. Lark and I are over.
11
Cassidy
“I can’t get enough of you, Cassidy Marks. You know that?” The fire in Lark’s words is secondary only in heat to the sensation of his hot mouth, moving along the edge of my jaw. He catches the tip of my ear in his mouth, gently bites down until I gasp at the faint sting. Then he grins and keeps moving, his lips gliding down my neck, teeth grazing the delicate skin ever so lightly.
I arch up against him, but it’s no use. He has my hands pinned over my head, both wrists held in one single large hand of his. His body, lying atop mine, is so strong and steel-sturdy, every press of his perfectly chiseled abs digging into my soft curves. I can only twist a little beneath him, enjoying the complete loss of control, the way he’s in charge now, and oh, he knows exactly what to do.
He peels my shirt off with his free hand and uses it to tangle my hands to the headboard. I don’t mind, except for that it means I can’t trace my fingers along the edges of his muscles.
But it’s fine, because a second later, he drags his own shirt over his head and tosses it aside, his muscles gleaming in the moonlight that shines through my bedroom window.
“I’ve dreamt of you every damn night for so long,” he says, his voice low, thrumming with desire. “I’ve dreamt of all the places I want to touch you…” His hands brush my curves ever so slightly, making me tremble. “The places I want to kiss…”
His lips brush the hollow of my throat, the sharp juts of my collarbone. He flattens his tongue against my breastbone and traces it down, down, between my breasts. He cups them each in one hand, his palm rough against the smooth, supple skin. I can tell my nipples are already rock hard, but they only get stiffer when he rolls his tongue over to one breast and sucks my whole areola between his lips.
I moan, my back arching up off my sheets, which I can tell are already damp from sweat.
He laughs faintly, his breath a hot white gust against my chest, as he shifts to the other breast, his tongue swirling around it. “I love watching you react,” he tells me, smirking up at me.
From here, in the moonlight, those his deep green eyes snag on mine, impossible to look away from. He’s got the kind of gaze a girl could drown in. “Well,” I breathe, still trying to catch my breath, to make my lungs function normally. “You definitely know how to make me squirm.”
He grins at that, his teeth flashing in the dim light. “Oh, I plan to do a lot more than that tonight.” His palm traces over my stomach, flattened against my curves. Down, down, until he reaches the fabric of my thin panties. When did he take off my pants? I don’t even remember. The whole world has gone hazy at the edges, and I have eyes only for this man.
For all the dirty things he does to me at night.
“I want to hear you screaming my name by the end of this,” he says, voice low and thrumming with urgent energy.
Then he hooks a thumb under the edge of my panties, nudges them down my thighs, and I gasp as the cool evening air hits my bare pussy. God, I can already tell I’m wet. But the situation only grows more urgent as Lark bends to kiss my navel, his tongue flicking into the narrow hole there, his 5 o’clock shadow grazing my smooth stomach, making me tickle and squirm.