The Obsession (Filthy Rich Americans 2)

Every shallow breath I took was faster than the previous as I waited for him—to the point my chest was heaving violently and I grew lightheaded. The anticipation was probably worse than the kiss would be. This was only more of his mind games, and I refused to let them have any effect.

But the first casualty of every battle is the plan, and as his lips touched mine, all my ideas of shutting him out died. When his soft, lush mouth moved against me, my eyes flew open and I could see him through the line of vision the blindfold didn’t block out.

I didn’t kiss him back, but it didn’t matter. He invaded. Like his scotch, he was an acquired taste and too expensive for my unrefined palate. His lips teased and taunted, challenging mine to give in to him.

Five seconds was a fucking lifetime. No, longer. Cities rose and fell in the time it took him to kiss me.

He had one hand cupping the back of my neck, but then the other hand slid around my bare hip and onto my back, and before I could retreat, the hard length of his body pushed against mine. My breasts collided with his strong chest and the line of buttons down his dress shirt.

He was cold-blooded and yet shockingly warm.

I gasped, and my hands flew to his shoulders to push him back, but I’d made a critical error. When I parted my lips, he took ownership of my mouth. The hand on the back of my head held me firm so he could deliver a kiss that commanded my lips to move in time with his.

His aggressive, dominating way was a dangerous rip current. It carried me along unwillingly and without escape. I despised how it forced a shiver up my spine.

It wasn’t clear if I’d succeeded in pushing him away or if he’d chosen to end the kiss on his own, but our bodies and mouths separated, and I stumbled back until the sharp edges of trimmed branches gouged into my skin.

“You said a kiss,” I accused. “I didn’t say you could touch me.”

“Most people use more than just their mouths when they kiss,” he said dryly. “I thought it was understood.”

I shook my head, trying to clear his effect from it. “And it was longer than five seconds.”

“Was it?” A wicked smile lurked in his voice. “It felt short to me.”

Adrenaline ran hotly through my veins, making me agitated. Couldn’t he see how badly I wanted this over with? I itched to tear off the blindfold and take off running. “Can we start, already?”

He inhaled and exhaled, slow and deep, and I had the terrible feeling he was stretching, warming up his muscles. Fuck. Should I do that?

He spoke before I could make my decision. “We’ll start whenever you’re ready. I’ll begin counting when the blindfold comes off.”

I wanted it to be a statement, but it came out sounding like a question. “You’ll count out loud?”

“Yes.”

Oh, my God, this was really happening. I sank my teeth into my bottom lip as I mentally prepared for my task. I was unnaturally tight, and I sucked in what I hoped would be a calming breath. I’d never been a fast runner, but a fifteen-second head start should be more than enough. The hedge maze was big, but it wasn’t endless.

You can do this.

My hands shook as I raised them to the back of my head and my fingers found the knot. The silk slipped free faster than I expected, falling to hang around my neck like a loose scarf.

“One,” Macalister said.

He stood before me, one side of his rich black suit coat pushed back and his hand resting on his waist. His other was raised in front of him, and as I blinked my newly uncovered eyes, he lifted his gaze from his watch to meet my eyes.

I didn’t have time to waste evaluating his authoritative expression. I turned my attention to my surroundings. We were standing in a corridor, and to my right the hedges broke, so I had three options. Go right, go forward, or reverse. I whipped my head around and spied the ornate urn decorating the dead end, a root curling over the edge of the base.

If I’d had time, I would have laughed. Not because this was the same spot where Royce had rescued me in the rain, but because I’d anticipated this move. This place was the farthest distance from the entrance. If I had to chase someone through this maze, I would have picked this as the starting line too.

“Two.”

It also meant Macalister was standing in my way, blocking the exit, either hoping to deter or slow me down. Not a chance. I grabbed the tie hanging around my front and flung it to the ground as I took off, sprinting past him.