Wicked Heart (12 page)

“Fuck. Liss.” His voice cracks, and I move with more confidence. Well, as much confidence as is possible when one is faced with something of this size. None of my previous lovers was
this big. Just more proof I’ve been sleeping with boys up until now, and that Liam is a full-edged man.

When I put my mouth on him, he groans, loud and long. I glance up to see his head thrown back, eyes closed. His fingers clench and release sporadically in my hair, and it only spurs me on to
please him further. I continue kissing and sucking, and take special note of what I’m doing whenever I make him curse or grunt. When I start using my hand in tandem with my mouth, he lets out
a low growl before he steps back and pulls me to my feet.

“Fuck, woman.” He picks me up and all but throws me onto the mattress, then climbs over and kneels between my legs. I have a moment to appreciate how supremely sexy he is as he
reaches into the nightstand, tears open a condom package, and rolls it on with sure fingers. When he’s done, he looks down at me.

“You are . . .” He shakes his head. “I’ve never ached for a woman as much as I ache for you.” He settles between my legs and braces on one arm. “I feel like I
can’t get enough of you, no matter how hard I try.”

He drops his pelvis down and then kisses me. I wrap around him, and kiss him back. I know exactly what he means. It’s like feeding my hunger for him just makes me more insatiable.

I close my eyes as he uses his mouth all over my chest, and when his hips push forward, the pressure of him makes me gasp.

Oh,
God.

He kisses me and moans at the same time, all the while moving forward, then back. Small movements that bring him a little deeper each time.

Sweet mother, the feel of him. I’m not a big woman, but he’s a big man, in every sense of the word. I suddenly experience a real concern about our size difference.

“Relax,” he says between kisses, picking up on my tension. “There’s nothing to worry about. It will feel good soon, I promise.”

He keeps kissing and touching, trying to soothe me as he pushes and retreats. I breathe through the pressure and run my hands over all of him. His amazing back. His magnificent chest. His abs
that tremble with every deepening thrust.

“You feel so . . .” He groans into my neck. “God . . . Liss.”

As his thrusts become more confident, I realize he was right: He fills me so completely, it feels amazing. He slides one hand beneath my butt and lifts my pelvis, and . . .
Sweet
Jesus!

I grip his shoulders and moan. He’s hitting a place inside me I never knew existed. Every time he thrusts, I gasp, and each subsequent gasp gets louder and more desperate.

“There?” he asks, panting as he watches my face.

“God, yes. Right there. Don’t stop. Please . . .”

He thrusts harder. I can’t even cope with how good it feels.

“Touch yourself,” he says as he gains speed. “I want to feel you come while I’m inside you.”

I reach down and circle my fingers.

Oh.

Sweet.

Holy.

Mother.

My orgasm builds so quickly, I’m not even remotely prepared for it. Liam’s powerful thrusts, in conjunction with my hand, bring me to a place I’ve never been before. I gasp as
I feel the first sparks of my orgasm begin to fire.

Liam groans, and when I look up at him, it’s clear he’s struggling to hold on.

“Please, Liss. God . . . I can’t—”

I move my hand faster, and it’s only a few more seconds before I’m coming so hard, I’m arching o the bed and groaning his name.

Everything explodes. My mind. My body. The sensation is indescribable. I hear a keening noise and realize it’s me.

I’m still reeling when Liam moans into the side of my neck. Every muscle in his back tightens as he presses in as far as possible, and I grip him and stroke his back as he trembles with
the force of his orgasm. After tense seconds and a final muttered curse word, he relaxes and collapses on the bed beside me. We both lie there for a while, panting and blinking. Wondering what the
hell just happened.

My body is still in shock.

“What was that?” Liam asks, still out of breath.

“Sex?”

“No way. I’ve had sex before, and it was nothing like that. Tell me you felt it, too.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m still feeling it.” I’m not exaggerating. Little ripples of pleasure are still spasming inside me. For a moment, I wonder if his size made the
difference, but I have a feeling that he could have had the most average-sized penis in the world and still shattered me into a million quivering pieces.

“After that,” he says, “are you still going to deny that we’re fated? Because let me tell you, sex like that doesn’t happen every day. Or every year, for that
matter. Or in my case, even every twenty-two and three-quarter years. You need to finally accept that this”—he turns to me and points between us—“is freaking extraordinary.
Because I’m not above spanking you into submission if you continue to delude yourself that’s it’s not.”

Part of me wants to deny it just to find out what it would be like to be spanked by him. Those big, rough hands, one holding me in place while the other one—

I close my eyes and push away the urge.

“Elissa?”

“I’m pleading the Fifth.”

“That’s as good as admitting I’m right.”

“No, I’m just not saying you’re wrong.”

“Hmmm. Not sure whether or not that earns a spanking. I’ll think it over.”

“You do that. My butt awaits your verdict.”

He chuckles, and I feel the mattress move as he gets up to dispose of the condom. When he climbs back into bed, I turn to look at him.

His face is flushed, his lips are swollen, and his hair is insane, but I’ve never seen a more attractive man in my life. He studies my face, then brushes a damp piece of hair away from my
forehead.

“Stay the night,” he says quietly. “I want to see how many more times I can make you scream before morning.”

Before I can turn him down, he pulls me over and kisses me, his hand gentle on my cheek. It’s unexpectedly sweet and makes me forget all about the excuse that was on the tip of my tongue.
He pulls back and nuzzles my neck. “Plus, I’m an excellent snuggler. Stay.”

A tiny voice warns me it’s a bad idea. That getting any closer will only make things harder when he leaves. I tell that voice to shut its mouth. After what I just experienced, I need more
of Liam Quinn. Much more. Consequences be damned.

“Okay.”

How long does it take to fall in love?

A second? A week? A year?

It’s like asking how long it takes to fall asleep. Some people are gone as soon as their head hits the pillow. Others lie awake for hours, and it’s only when their brain stops
churning for a while that sleep sneaks in and drags them under.

That’s how I visualize people falling in love. Some people fall so easily, they seem reckless. They love freely and unashamed.

Those people are idiots.

Or at least I used to think so. Until now.

I tried to stay as detached as possible with Liam last night, but every time I thought I’d pushed out any real emotion, he’d kiss me, or whisper something sweet that made it come
crashing back in again. In the end, I just went with it. I knew it was dumb, considering our situation, but I couldn’t help it.

And now, he’s behind me, wrapped around me like he never wants to let go. His breath is warm and steady on the back of my neck as he sleeps, blissfully unaware I’m getting more
uptight by the second.

In our current position, every inch of my naked back is pressed against every inch of his naked front, and my head is resting on a plump bicep while his other arm is wrapped around my waist.

I sigh and squeeze my eyes shut. It shouldn’t feel this good to be enveloped in a man, especially one I can’t have.

I try to pull his arm away from my waist, but it won’t budge. Damn. Stupid giant muscles.

“What are you doing?” he mutters, voice dark with sleep.

“I have to go.”

“No you don’t.”

“Yes I do. I have things I need to take care of.”

“Me too. All of them involve being inside you. Leaving isn’t an option.”

I pull at his arm again. It’s like iron. “Don’t you have to pack?”

“All done. I’m having dinner with Mom and Dad tonight and then they’re taking me to the airport in the morning. Other than that, I’m free.” He loosens his grip and
pushes me onto my back, then leans over for a lingering kiss. “Is this convincing you to stay?”

“Hmmm. I’m not sure. Maybe you should try harder.”

He presses his very obvious erection against my hip. “This hard enough?”

My whole body reacts. “Ah, yes. That’ll do.”

“Man, you’re easy. Thank God.”

I squeal as he pins me to the bed.

Forty minutes and two orgasms later, I’m boneless. I drift in and out of consciousness, and when I open my eyes, Liam’s there, head cradled in his hand, staring down at me.

“I’m confused,” he says with a frown.

“About what?”

“You say you’ve had boyfriends who’ve left you for other women.”

“Yes. Three of them, to be precise.”

“Did you exclusively date blind men? Or were they just total idiots? Because honestly, apart from those options, I don’t see how it’s possible.”

I smile. “I told you the reason already. They were actors.”

“That explains nothing.”

“Doesn’t it?” I turn on my side to look at him. “Tell me about how you feel about Olivia.”

He frowns. “Olivia? As in Juliet-Olivia?”

“Yes.”

He looks at me dubiously. “Is this one of those tricky female questions I shouldn’t answer for fear of being smacked?”

“No. Just be honest.”

He doesn’t seem convinced. “Okay. I . . . like her?”

“As a friend?”

“Yes. Just a friend. Definitely nothing more.” He still looks nervous, so I stroke his chest to calm him. Also, because his chest is beautiful and I want to touch it.

“So now explain how your love scenes in
Romeo and Juliet
were as hot as hell.”

“They were?”

“God, yes! Did you not notice me subtly fanning myself every time you guys made out?”

“I just figured you were warm.”

“I was. In my pants.” He laughs and lies back on the bed. When he puts his hands under his head, I don’t miss the way his biceps pop. I run my forefinger over one.

“I had no clue you were turned on,” he says. “I was trying so hard to stay away from you, I avoided looking at you most of the time.”

“So, how did you do it?”

“Stay away from you? It wasn’t easy. Cold showers and heavy drinking helped.”

I pinch his bicep, and he squirms. “I mean, how did you appear so in love with Olivia when you only liked her as a friend?”

He pauses. “I don’t know. I just used my imagination, I guess. As Romeo, when I looked at Juliet, I made my body feel things for her. My adrenal system is pretty gullible.”

A tinge of jealousy squirms inside me. “So you just
made yourself
feel love for her, and then expect me to believe those feelings don’t bleed over into real life?”

He turns to me and props himself up on one arm. “It’s not that simple. Onstage, Romeo was completely in love with Juliet, but offstage . . . I don’t know. Olivia was a
different person. So was I.”

“But she’s not. And you’re not. You’re the same people with the same faces and bodies. How is it possible for actors to make love to someone every night onstage and stay
faithful to their wives and girlfriends offstage?”

“Lots of actors do it.”

“And lots don’t, and it seems I have a talent for choosing the ones who can’t separate fantasy from reality. That’s why I didn’t want to get close to you. I
couldn’t cope with being collateral damage again.”

He sits up and frowns at me. “So what you’re saying is that if we were in a relationship, I’d naturally develop feelings for my leading lady and dump you?”

“History would suggest yes.”

“My unbelievable attraction to you would suggest no fucking way.”

“Attraction fades.”

“Wrong.
Lust
fades. Attraction keeps people together long after lust is just a distant memory.”

“And what makes you think that what you feel for me isn’t just lust?”

He cups my cheek. “Because I’ve lusted after a lot of girls in my life, and let me tell you, not
once
did it feel like this.”

He leans down and kisses me gently, and I know he’s right. A simple brush of his lips may be enough to set my whole body on fire, but beneath that simmer is something else. A feeling of
rightness.
Hell, I’d even go so far as to entertain his romantic concept of fate if I wasn’t so stubborn. But how can fate call him to Hollywood as well as make it feel like
he’s mine? That’s not even a little fair.

I pull back, and he sighs. “If I wasn’t leaving I could prove to you that not all actors are abandoning assholes.”

“And yet, you’re about to abandon me.”

“Totally different.”

“I know. But it still sucks.” Thinking about it makes an unexpected lump form in my throat.

“Yeah, it does.” He’s quiet for a moment, then asks, “Will you miss me?”

I want to say no, because admitting how much I’m going to miss him is crazy. Instead, I force a smile. “I’m sure we’ll both be so busy we won’t have time to dwell
on it.”

He nods. “Yeah. Sure. Dwelling would be bad.” He crosses his arms over his chest and stares at the wall, a deep frown furrowing his brows. The openness from earlier has vanished.
“Maybe I’ll bomb in Hollywood and be back here before you know it.”

I’m an asshole for wishing that would happen, but I know very well it won’t. “Liam, Hollywood is going to lose its mind as soon as you arrive. I have no doubt. And when
you’re a big star, I’ll be able to say I knew you when.”

He doesn’t answer, but his frown deepens. When I climb out of bed to gather my clothes, he doesn’t try to stop me. I quickly retreat into the bathroom.

Okay, Elissa, get it together.

You’re fine. He’s fine. Everything’s fine.