Beautifully Cruel

31

I flatten my shaking hands on his chest, look into his eyes, and shake my head.

He closes his eyes briefly, draws a breath, exhales in a ragged rush. Then he presses my head to his chest and brushes his lips against my forehead. “Last chance, lass.”

“I can’t kick you out yet. You’ve never even kissed me.”

His chuckle is a low rumble underneath my ear. “So you’ve been waiting for that to end it, have you?”

“Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

His arms tighten around me. I sense he’s trying to be gentle, but also is having a difficult time holding back.

I tilt my head back and reach up and touch his face. “Kiss me,” I whisper, my voice trembling. His lips curve into a wry smile. “Such a bossy little thing.”

“Please?”

Hearing that, his eyes darken. The smile disappears from his face. He grinds his back teeth together, hesitating.

Then he lowers his head and lightly brushes his lips against mine.

It’s exquisitely soft and tender, a whisper of a thing, yet it sends a bolt of lust straight through me.

When I softly gasp and lean into him, he pulls back and gazes down at me in silence. I drop my forehead against his chest and groan in frustration.

“You’re still hurt,” he murmurs.

“Somebody else is about to get hurt here, I’ll tell you what.” Silent laughter rocks his chest.

I wind my arms around his broad shoulders and snuggle closer to him, closing my eyes. Then I sigh, because Liam’s body has gone stiff. I grouse, “I don’t bite.”

The hand cradling my head closes to a fist around my hair. He slides his arm down my back, palms my ass, and pulls me closer, so I feel his erection digging into my hip. He lowers his head and says gruffly into my ear, “But I do.”

Then he opens his mouth over the pulse pounding in my neck and bites me.

It’s not hard, not enough to sting or leave a mark, but it sends such a jolt of electricity through me I moan like a porn star. I sag against him, digging my fingers into his shoulders, my eyes rolling back into my head.

The bite turns into a gentle suck.

His mouth is heaven. Velvet soft lips and greedy hot tongue—I want to feel that all over me. I want his mouth to explore every inch of my skin.

I whisper, “Liam. Oh god.”

He rocks his hips against mine and sucks harder.

My n*****s are so hard they ache. I want his mouth on those, too. And his teeth, that gentle bite. I need to feel the scratch of his beard against my most sensitive skin, hear that low, masculine rumble of pleasure go through his chest as he manhandles me with those big rough hands, moving me this way and that on the bed, growling filthy words into my ear as he drives into me.

Picturing it, a whimper of need rises from my throat.

He pulls away from my neck, grasps my jaw in his hand, and stares down at me with burning eyes. I’ve seen him on the edge of his control before, but never like this.

Breathing raggedly, he says, “Twenty-eight days.”

I blink in confusion. The room is spinning, I’m panting, and my heart is a hammer in my chest. What is he saying? Does he need a calendar?

“W-what?”

“I have to go out of the country tomorrow for three weeks. When I come back, I’m here for twenty-eight days until I leave again.”

I stare at him, not understanding his point.

Until he says, “I want us to be together for those twenty-eight days. I want you to stay with me at my home. To be with me all the time. To be mine. All mine, every minute, in every way.” He pauses, then delivers the most shocking part of this proposal. “Then we’ll never see each other again.”

13

TRU

S

tunned, I breathe, “You want me to…”

“Move in with me.”

“For…”

“Twenty-eight days. Then leave.”

He stares at me with blistering intensity. A disbelieving little laugh escapes my lips.

He says, “I told you I don’t do relationships.”

“And this is your solution? A month of round-the-clock cohabitation, followed by permanent separation? It’s a little drastic, don’t you think?”

His gaze drops to my mouth. He growls, “I think it’s the only way for us both to get what we want without any lasting damage.”

I stare up at him. He can’t be serious. “Liam—”

“Yes or no. Decide.”

I arch my brows and slide my arms from around his shoulders, flattening my hands on the broad expanse of his chest. “And I’m the bossy one?”

“I need to know right now.”

“Why? Where’s the fire?”

Through gritted teeth, he says, “I can’t concentrate on anything else. Every time I see you, it gets worse. It needs to be settled.” “It?” I say archly.

“Us.”

I study him for a moment, all his frustration and impatience.

I don’t feel a shred of pity for him, the arrogant ass.

“You know, this is how it is for normal people. The not knowing. The uncertainty. This is what most of us have to deal with in relationships all the time.”

“I’m not most people,” he growls. “And I don’t do—”

“Relationships. So you’ve said.”

Aggravated, I pull away from him. Turning my back, I fold my arms over my chest and glare at my bed. Why does he have to make everything so intense?

His voice comes very low from behind me. “Decide.”

I roll my eyes to the ceiling. “Can you give me a minute to catch my breath?” “No. Decide.”