A curve of conquer. A twitch of triumph at the edges of those full lips.
I step out of my thong, and his hands press into my thighs, spreading me wide. I can’t suck in a full breath, and I don’t want to. Oxygen means clarity, and I don’t want to think about the unresolved issues between us, the divide in my soul over two men, or the fact that anyone could walk into the library and interrupt us.
“Your pussy is so damn beautiful. Some nights I dream of tasting you again.”
“I need you,” I gasp, my pelvis arching for the promise of his tongue.
He flicks it over my clit, warm and wet lips closing over me, and I expel a loud groan as I plunge my hands into his thick, coppery hair, tugging the strands in desperation. He groans his approval against my pussy, and I almost buckle.
“Liam…more, please.” I dip my head in surrender, braids falling around my shoulders, and hold him to me as I climb higher and higher, my pulse a mad gallop in my ears. His technique is a relentless assault, turning my insides to fiery liquid, and I’m so close to coming on his tongue.
Begging and straining for it.
But it doesn’t happen.
With a desperate cry, I yank at his hair even harder. “Please! I need…God, please…”
Liam veers upright and takes my face between his hands. “You’re so wet,” he says against my lips, transferring the taste of me from his mouth to mine. “But Vance made sure you can’t come. Continuing this is only torture.”
“I don’t care!” I try pushing him to the floor again, but he retreats by three feet.
“I care, Novalee.”
“But I’m the one in control tonight.”
Liam presses his lips together, as if biting back an order. What is it with the men in this tower and their incessant demands? Vance was the first person to pretend to care about what I wanted, if only for a night.
Liam bartered with Mr. Bordeaux to spend time with me.
Landon decided who I should marry.
And Sebastian…he made a deal with the doctor for my anal virginity, then he pushed me away in favor of another woman.
Indignant anger breaks through the surface. I grit my teeth and plow forward, eating up the space Liam tried putting between us. “You asked me what I wanted,” I remind him.
He actually appears worried, and I almost laugh because hunting him is ludicrous, and yet that’s what this feels like—a reversal of roles. The hunter becoming the prey.
“You’re right. I did ask.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, fully clothed in an expensive suit while I pursue him in nothing but the heels on my feet.
“I want you to take my anal virginity,” I say, grabbing him by the maroon tie around his neck, “tonight in your penthouse, and I don’t want you to fight me on this.”
“Why?” He searches my expression, and it takes every ounce of strength not to avert my eyes.
To keep my vengeful reasons hidden from the lock of our gazes.
“I want it to be you.”
He picks up my panties from the floor, dangling fine lace on his finger, and holds the thong in front of my face. “My penthouse awaits.”
Chapter Three
Two months is such a short amount of time in the enormous picture of life. A mere sixty days. Not even a quarter of the way through a year. As Liam ushers me into the House of Aries, and the familiar scent of spiciness and man surrounds me—the previous two months seem like an eternity. The door closes behind us, shutting out the rest of the tower and its inhabitants from the penthouse floor, and my attention stalls on that heavy piece of wood closing us off from everyone else.
He kissed me goodbye against that door as tears stung my eyes, as I begged him to let me stay. So much has changed since that day, back when I would have given anything to remain inside these walls, safe in his arms.
Safe in the illusion of protection.
But each new month holds additional challenges and discoveries, and I fear I won’t recognize the girl in the mirror by the time the last month concludes.
Liam removes his jacket and places it over the arm of a chair in the sitting room. The French doors to the balcony stand open, allowing the evening air to infuse the space with the salty scent of the sea. The breeze isn’t as humid as summer back home, but I still prefer this milder version of summer to the bone-deep chill of spring on the island.
“Should I open a bottle?” Looking at me expectantly, Liam nods toward the kitchen and his considerable wine collection.
I shake my head. “I’d rather not add alcohol to the mix.” With Vance’s concoction storming through my veins, I need to keep as clear a head as possible.