Playing Pretend by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

Twelve

Eliza

I slingmy purse over my shoulder as I march angrily down the sidewalk. Hot tears blur my eyes and that only makes me angrier with myself for not being stronger than this.

But damn—how much crap can a girl take?!

I was already having a shitty night. The last thing I needed was a run-in with my ex-boss.

Wanting to avoid the gleeful crowds swarming the streets, I duck into an alleyway, opting to take a shortcut home. Normally, I’d only travel here in the daylight but I’m too upset to think straight right now.

Before I can make it very far, I feel two massive palms grasp me by the waist.

My first instinct is to scream. Of course. But before I can start yelling my lungs out, I smell his cologne. That subtle scent of nutmeg, musk and testosterone that always makes my head swim.

It’s Liam.

On second thought, maybe that’s precisely why I should scream.

He spins me to face him and I crash into his stony glare. “Why the hell are you walking through an alley by yourself in the middle of the night? You have a death wish?”

A hot quiver runs through me at the lethal edge in his voice.

“The crime rates in Sin Valley are virtually non-existent, remember? That was highlighted in the research I put together for you. Along with my notes about the friendly small town people.” I jab him in the chest. “And the great mix of foot traffic and convenient parking.” I jab him again. “And the casinos that split their profits with local charities.”

Something like guilt slides over his eyes and he drops his head like he can’t stand to look me in the face. “Eliza, don’t…”

My shoulders shake. “I put my everything into that job, all that extra work because I wanted to see your company succeed. I wanted to see you succeed. Especially when you told me that sob story about your dad…And then, you fired me.” Somewhere in the distance, thunder rolls.

We’re in the shadowy alley, toe to toe, an electric crosscurrent sparking the air. Like we’re ready for war.

But when Liam’s hand releases my waist…his rough fingertips rise to my cheek and glide tenderly through my tears, wiping them away.

“I’m sorry, okay?!”

The words rumble out of him, shaking everything around us like a boulder rolling down the side of a mountain.

For a long moment, we just stand there, vibrating with anger and confusion and pheromones as vehicles and pedestrians frolic by at the end of the alley.

Myeyes shooting laserbeams through my tears. His eyes telegraphing lust and heat and desire.

And I’m not too sure how it happens. But in an instant, his fingers are twisted up in my hair and I’ve got the fabric of his barbecue-stained shirt locked in my fists and our mouths are on a frantic mission to connect.

The force of his big body pushes me backward and I crash into a cool brick wall. His lips cover mine and my mouth opens, eager to accept his tongue.

The kiss is brutal. Lush. Intense.

A fiery explosion after weeks and months of build-up.

I want him. He wants me. And there’s nothing polite about it.

His blunt fingernails dig into my thighs and he hoists me up. My legs automatically swing around his waist. I’m climbing him, clawing him, like a monkey suspended in a jungle of lust.

Peppermint and whiskey. Vodka and the salt from my tears. It all comes together as our tongues dance.

I slide my palms over his back and shoulders as I kiss him. The man is all muscle, everywhere. I’ve never been with anyone built like this and I don’t want to stop touching him.

All I know is I need to be closer to him, close enough to steal his breaths, to absorb his heartbeats. I grab the back of his neck, pulling my fingertips through his dark waves, guiding him closer still.

Groaning, he glides his hand up the backs of my thighs. I should protest when he pushes my lacy panties aside. But instead, I circle my hips, rubbing my pussy against his hand.

Wait—what’s that thing I was saying about my dignity, not even ten minutes ago?

“Fuck. Eliza.” When he rasps out my name like that, all I can do is whimper. “You’re irresistible.” He draws his broad fingertips through my wetness, spreading my pussy lips apart. “So fucking sexy. So fucking sweet.” He starts playing with my clit and my toes curl, I feel faint.

“Shit…Liam. Oh. Ohhh…Liam.” The way he’s touching me, I know these are the hands of a man who knows what he’s doing.

He eases a finger inside me and lightning slashes across the sky. I practically forget where I am, throwing my head back against the brick wall and moaning loudly in my throat.

Liam angles my face close to his. “I know you want to come, Eliza, but let’s not put on a spectacle. There’s a hundred drunken assholes wandering the Strip in search of free entertainment and I don’t want to share this performance with anybody. Tonight you’re all mine.” He suppresses my cries by pushing his tongue in my mouth again.

Oh my god. I’m about to come. Against a wall. In a dark, dirty alley. But this wretched man’s billion-dollar fingers inside me feels like the ultimate luxury.

I’m only a few strokes away from falling headfirst into a galaxy of pleasure.

But a beam of light cuts through the alley, harshly penetrating my closed eyelids. “Hey, hey! Break it up, folks. Break it up.”

We separate with a jolt. With my palms pressed to Liam’s chest, I give him a soft push and I slide down the wall to land on my unsteady feet. Liam’s attention swings in the direction of the voice. I follow his gaze and find a short, stout security guard ambling toward us in the dark.

The man chuckles from deep in his belly. “A word of advice, brother—get a damn hotel room, will ya? The pretty lady deserves better than a cheapo who—”

When the man realizes that he’s approaching none other than Liam Kline, his confident gait falters. “Uh, oh, uh, Mr. Kline. G-good night, sir.”

Liam’s hand darts up to shield his eyes. “You mind getting that flashlight out of my face?!” he barks unapologetically.

“Oh, yes. Yes. Of course, sir.” The man fumbles with his flashlight and barely manages to catch it before it hits the ground. “Sorry about that.”

Wow. What a disaster.

Cloaked by Liam’s broad torso, I scramble to pull my skirt back in order and finger-comb my tousled hair. I discover that, in the lust-driven melee, I somehow managed to break my purse strap. Great.

I’m dazed, disoriented, disgusted with myself.

What the hell is wrong with me?

This rich bastard has been a complete asshole to me. So I don’t understand why I wasted my one opportunity alone with him in an alley, jumping his bones when I could have been kicking his ass—or at least trying to—instead.

When the security guard tries to get a peek at me over Liam’s shoulder, the towering billionaire deliberately angles his body to conceal me. It’s a possessive gesture but I’m grateful for it.

The old man clears his throat. “Mr. Kline, it’s really not safe out here so late at night. Maybe you should, y’know, get a hotel room.” He holds out a hand appeasingly. “I mean that in the most respectful way possible, sir.”

“Thanks for your concern.” Liam’s voice is dry like cement powder. “But I’m gonna need you to excuse us.”

The guy makes one final attempt to get a peek at me before he nods, wishes us a good night and hightails it out of the alley.

When we’re alone again, Liam turns purposefully toward me, like he’s afraid I’m about to bolt in an instant.

He’s not wrong. That’s my plan. I’m pissed at myself and embarrassed by my behavior and I just want to go home.

But he cages me in, his palm pressed to the wall beside my head. His breathing is rough and erratic as he curls his body over mine.

“This…” he whispers raggedly into the air between us.

I peer up at him in the near-dark alley. “What…?” My own breathing is labored.

“This is why I fired you. Because I couldn’t stand seeing you at the office everyday, beautiful and intelligent and tempting, knowing you were totally off-limits to me. Do you understand that you were driving me crazy?”

Shock ripples through me at his confession. In a snap, my post-makeout session haze is gone. I twist and duck, escaping the cage of his arms. “Well, you don’t sound like a chauvinistic caveman at all.”

His brow pleats with frustration when he turns to face me. “My actions are unjustifiable, Eliza, I’ll admit it. But you were a distraction to my ambitions. I couldn’t think clearly with you around.”

I slap a palm to my forehead. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “Wow. Just…wow!”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t feel the same damn way, Eliza. Don’t tell me you didn’t feel the pull. I saw the way you used to look at me. We were both in that barrel of lust together, ready to go over the cliff.”

Stomping back into his personal space, I narrow my eyes on his handsome face. “The difference is that you had the power to fire me, you had the power to ruin my life. And you used it. That makes you an asshole.”

“I see now that I was wrong. And I’ve apologized.” He huffs, running his long fingers through his hair. “But now that we’ve got this lust out of our systems, our mutual attraction won’t be a problem anymore. We can put this behind us and you can come back and work for me. We can resume our work relationship without further consequence.”

This guy is nuts. “Let’s get some things clear. I will not be tossed around like your administrative rag doll, firing me because you can’t control your urges, hiring me back when you realize how much of an idiot you’ve been. That’s number one.”

I’m fuming.

“And number two, you will never get this out of your system.” I turn around and motion toward my butt. It’s a damn nice butt, if I do say so myself. “The image of this ass strolling out of this alley will haunt you for the rest of your miserable days, you sorry son of a—”

“Eliza, don’t you walk away from me,” he growls.

I keep walking.

Fuck that guy. Good thing I never have to see him again. “Have a shitty life, Liam Kline.”