A High so Sweet (Thornes & Roses 2)

“Where’s the unlucky fiancé?” he questions; the angry bite to his words isn’t lost on me. Snapping my gaze to his, I take note of the jealousy that’s turned his lips downward at the corners; the blaze in his eyes doesn’t hide his emotions. One thing I recall about Cassian, even from all those years ago, he could never hide his feelings from me. His eyes were always so expressive. I could tell when he was angry, happy, and even turned on.

My cheeks heat at the memories. I need to focus, but with him looking so good, bringing back feelings I’ve long since buried, it’s difficult to think straight.

“What do you want from me, Cassian?” I ask softly instead of answering his question. “I can’t be out here too long. There are things you don’t know—”

“About the bastard you agreed to marry?” he challenges before pushing away from the tree. He stalks toward me, causing me to stumble backward. Thankfully I’m wearing trainers and find my footing on the uneven ground. “About why you’re really here?” he asks a different question this time, and even though my mouth opens, I can’t find words to answer him.

Does he know?

He can’t. There’s no way he could’ve found out about anything that has happened in the past few years, especially the last two.

“Tell me, little liar,” Cassian taunts, “does he make you feel like I used to?” This time, his question heats my whole body, from head to toe, and it feels as if I’m burning up from a fever. He continues stalking toward me, forcing me back against one of the thick trunks, and soon, I’m pinned between him and the tree, with no escape in sight.

Cassian leans in, his mouth at my ear in an instant. His warm breath fans over me, sending shockwaves of need coursing through me. I can’t answer him because he already knows the truth. No man has ever made me feel what he does.

Shame fills me at the reminder. Because I can’t have Cassian, he never wanted me, not then, and certainly not now. He’s only toying with me tonight to get his vengeance.

“Does he make your pretty pussy wet?” he whispers, causing a gasp of shock to tumble from my lips. “Because I doubt that he could make your body react like this.” His teasing continues when he trails his knuckles over my cheek, down my neck, to the neckline of my T-shirt. He tugs on it gently before running his fingertips up my collarbone to my throat, where he wraps his hand firmly around the slender column. “Does he know how you used to chase me around like a puppy dog? Needing my attention only on you. And does he know you used to touch your cunt at night thinking about me defiling you every which way?” His words are filthy, harsh, but they’re also true.

My cheeks are burning from embarrassment as a whimper of need escapes my lips. Cassian chuckles, but his hold on my throat tightens when he pushes back to lock his heated gaze on mine. There’s no hate in his stare, only raw desire.

“W-what d-d-do you w-want, Cassian?” I finally manage to whisper. I’m not scared, and he knows it because he tips his head to the side, his eyes narrowing as he regards me with interest.

“I want the truth, Kaly,” he responds in a voice so low, so dangerous, I struggle to swallow the lump of fear that suddenly fills my throat. “I want the honest, brutal truth from you because I’m sick of lies and stories.”

Suddenly, he releases me, pushing away from me as if I’ve burned him. But he doesn’t look away. He keeps those teal orbs pinned on me as if he’ll be able to dig out the truth from me with a glare.

Perhaps he can because I find myself aching to confess, to tell him about my life, about Paulo. I want to ask him for help, but I doubt he could ever give that to me. I doubt he’d even want to.

“Why?” I ask instead. “Why do you want to know about me?”

He regards me for a long while before responding, “Because it would make it easier for me to break you.” And that sinister grin is back on his face. The way his full, pink lips curl, even in this darkness, makes me want to feel them on every part of me. What Cassian doesn’t realize, though, is that I’ve been broken long before he came along.

“I’m getting married to the man I love,” I lie, praying with all I have that he doesn’t see through me. That he doesn’t see the truth in my bitter words.

He laughs; it’s a deep chuckle that confirms he doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. “Do you truly think I’m going to believe that?”