Page 104 of Liar
“Diego will decide for himself, as he always does.”
Italy. So far away.
“You’ve taken everything, haven’t you?”Even my love.
“Not everything.”
We stare at each other. So close, yet with an ocean dividing us.
“I’ve learned decisions shouldn’t be based on want but on necessity. Yet you make me forget that.”
“You still want me?” I whisper. Broken. Shattered.
Ever so gently, he smooths a lock of stray hair behind my ear. “One day, you’ll have a wedding night worthy of you.”
But not with him—that’s what he’s saying. Yet, he didn’t answer my question. Not in words, anyway.
He won’t admit he loves me.
Perhaps an admission to wanting me is easier. Or so he thinks.
The phone goes off again.
He rolls up and sets me on my feet, fully prepared to answer it.
“Hayden,” I softly say his name. Then, as his full attention swings my way, I foster up every ounce of courage I possess, and I reach behind me, unzip my dress, and wiggle just enough for it to slide down my body to the floor. With shaky hands, I release my bra.
“What are you doing?” he growls.
My breasts bounce free though I’m struggling not to cover myself. I’ve never had a man look at me like this. Naked, except for the tiny thong that’s the same color as my dress.
His jaw tightens, his lips draw into a flat line. It’s fascinating, watching him attempt to resist me.
I place a palm on my breast and rub two fingers across a nipple, my caress hardening it into a tiny pebble. I have nice, full breasts that men seem to notice even when I’m clothed. And Hayden notices, his eyes tracking my every movement.
“Remember what I said in the car earlier?”
His eyes lift to mine.
“If I marry, there’s going to be sex. Lots of it. Every. Single. Day. So much sex my husband will never let me go.” I hold up my left hand, reminding him of the ring he placed there. “Married.”
I hold my breath, waiting for him to break.
His beautiful green eyes are what gives him away. No mistaking the rush of lust within the emerald depths.
The phone buzzes again.
“Give it to me,” I say.
And he does, leaning forward to hand it to me.
“Diego.”
“Luciana?” I pull the phone away from my ear as a steady stream of curses follows. “I’ve been calling for an hour. Why aren’t you home? Where is he? What has that Bastard done?”
“Nothing yet, aside from marrying me.”
“Yet? If he touches you—”
