Wicked Heart

by Leisa Rayven

  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 off 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.”

  SEVEN

  BITTERSWEET

  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.

  He’ll leave, and you’ll forget about him, and everything will go back to normal. Stop freaking out.

  After a warm shower, I exit to find him sitting on the bed with his head in his hands, wearing only his jeans. When he sees me, the look in his eyes almost makes everything not-fine.

  “Elissa, listen—” But I’m sure if I do that, I won’t get out of here in one piece.

  “Liam, I really do have to go. Thanks for … everything.” All the orgasms, and kisses, and deep, longing gazes. Thanks for screwing with my mind and heart as much as with my body.

  I finish pulling on my socks and boots and grab my messenger bag.

  When I stand, he walks over and puts his arms around me. Such a simple gesture, but the affection with which he does it makes me sigh.

  He drops his head onto my shoulder and squeezes me in a tight hug. “I don’t want this to be the end for us.”

  I grip his arms, and try to bring him closer. “I don’t either, but we’re going to be on opposite sides of the country. I don’t know about you, but I couldn’t cope with that if you were my boyfriend. It would be torture.”

  He pulls back and gazes down at me. “True. If I were your boyfriend I’d definitely need to not be away from you. Ever.” He cups my face and slowly leans down. “I’d need to be close enough to do this, every … single … day.”

  He kisses me, soft and slow, and I’ve never wanted to live in a moment more than I want to live in this one.

  “Liss, tell me not to leave. Please. I’d stay if you asked me to.”

  “You know you can’t. And if you gave up this opportunity for me, I’d never forgive myself.” Fingers graze over my arms, and I shiver. “Anyway, there are thousands of beautiful women in L.A. I’m sure you’ll forget about me in no time.”

  “Not going to happen. Ever. Trust me on that.” He kisses me again, but this time, it’s hard and desperate.

  After a few more frantic minutes, we pull back, and we’re both breathing heavily. It would be so easy to let things get out of control, but we both know there’s no point in taking this further. The kiss, or the relationship.

  Standing on my toes, I give him one final hug before pulling away. I hate how the distance between us suddenly makes everything feel cold.

  I walk to the door and open it, then turn back to him. He looks at me with a conflicted expression, and I know exactly how he feels.

  “I’m not saying good-bye,” he says as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “Because this isn’t over. One day, fate’s going to fix this. Bring us back together. I believe that.”

  I smile. “Yeah. One day.” My smile is too fake, and my heart is too sore, and I can’t begin to cope with how he’s looking at me.

  “See you soon, Liss.”

  I nod. “Bye, Liam. Travel safe.”

  I clench my jaw against the tears that threaten as I close the door behind me.

  EIGHT

  NO EXCUSES

  Eight Months Later

  Central Park

  New York City

  I used to think missing someone was a choice, but that was before Liam. Now I realize all you can do is choose to ignore missing someone. The actual longing never goes away. It stays in your body like a toothache, deep in your bones, and every time you forget to deny it, the hum of it builds into a roar that’s so loud, it’s the only thing you can hear.

  He’s been gone eight months now, and I still have to concentrate to stop thinking about him every day.

  It doesn’t help that Josh is also gone. He got his acceptance letter to The Grove the same time I did, but decided to accept an offer from the UCLA School of Theater, Film and Television instead. For years he’d fantasized about living in L.A., and even though I suspected his decision was fueled by his obsession with all things young, hot, and actressy, I tried to be as supportive as possible.

  The result is that the two people I want to be with most are both thousands of miles away. This has worked out well.

  I sigh as I cross the road and head into Central Park. Stupid Liam. Making me feel things. Forcing me to miss him. If I didn’t love him so much, I’d hate him.

  As I head toward the lake, “I’m Too Sexy” blares out of my phone, and even before I answer it I’m smiling.

  “Madam Elissa’s House of Snark. How may I help you?”

  “Move to L.A. Right the fuck now,�
� Josh says.

  “Certainly, sir. I’ll be on the next plane.”

  “Don’t mess with me, woman. I’m homesick, and haven’t been laid in over a week. I’m in a very vulnerable place right now. What are you doing?”

  “Walking through Central Park. Heading to my reading tree.”

  “You back home for the weekend?”

  “Yeah. I had a few days off in between Grove shows, so I’ve come home to recharge.” I reach my reading tree near the lake and drop my bag on the grass before sitting. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing. Just wanted to talk to my bestie. How’s your love life? Found anyone interesting at The Grove?”

  I lean back against the tree and stretch my legs out in front of me. “Nope.”

  “Aw, come on. It’s an arts college. There has to be a decent quotient of hot men.”

  I pick at the grass. “Oh, there are lots of hot men, but it’s a drama school. It’s full of damn actors.”

  “Okay, then branch out. There are also musicians and artists, right? Find a hot rock god. Or a sensitive painter. I know for damn sure you could get a date with anyone you liked if you just tried. At least have some meaningless sex. You’re wasting your college experience.”

  The thing is, as much as I’d like to use sex to blow off steam, I’m just not interested in any of the guys at The Grove. I’m only interested in the man who’s closer to Josh than he is to me.

  Josh clears his throat. “Aaaand we’ve reached the part of our conversation where I mention sex, and you go quiet so you can daydream about Liam Quinn.”

  God, am I that predictable? “Sorry, Josh.”

  “Don’t be. It’s just crappy he’s here instead of there. Did you see him in the latest Coke ad?”

  “Yeah. It’s hard not to see him.” Shirt off, body glistening with water. A perfect-boobed blonde hanging off his arm as he smiles and embodies a man loving his life.

  It makes me so jealous, I have to change the channel whenever it comes on.

  “At least he’s getting work out here,” Josh says.

  “Of course he is. He’s a casting agent’s wet dream.”

  Josh pauses for a few seconds, then says, “You know, if you came out here to visit me, you could also see Quinn. I hate saying that because the risk is you’d fall into bed with him and not have time for me, but still. It’s a thought. I predict that if you and him were in the same city, your no-sex embargo would vanish in a puff of very horny smoke. Might do you some good.”