Price of a Kiss (Forbidden Men 1)

He gave a startled jerk in my arms. “You didn’t. I brought it on myself.”

I pulled back, aghast. “Just because you had some misguided notion when you were eighteen, thinking you had to do something drastic and unnecessary to save your family, doesn’t mean you deserve to be treated with such constant degradation by every woman who crosses your path.”

It struck me how much even I had objectified him the first few times I’d seen him, waxing poetic about his amazing looks. I had cared nothing about his personality. About him.

I wanted to beg his forgiveness for being no better than my cousin or my professor. But the intense way he stared at me gave me a moment’s pause.

He lifted his right hand and gathered a handful of hair out of my face. “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before. Where did you come from, Reese Randall?”

I didn’t deserve that expression of awe he was giving me. I wanted to tell him I wasn’t really Reese Randall. I wanted to tell him everything. But this moment was about him, so I just stuck with the truth I could give. “Ellamore, Illinois.”

His smile was amused and full of adoration. My chest filled tight with an echo of that same emotion a split second before he heaved me back into his arms and hugged me again.

Burrowing his nose through my hair, he found the scar on the back of my neck. After pressing his lips to the puckered skin, he whispered, “Thank you for being my friend. But Mercer was right. I do know better than to pant after you. You should never have to deal with any of my shit.”

A second later, he sniffed and pulled away before bending down to pick up the Harry Potter book. With his things gathered, he glanced at me. “I’ll see you around,” which was Mason-speak for he was back to avoiding me.

I stood in that same spot for way too long after he disappeared down the stairs. Too many things had left me rattled. Eva’s behavior, what she’d called him, Mason’s admission to Dr. Janison that he wasn’t taking any clients, and all that talk about the girl.

I was getting in over my head here. But I just didn’t care.

I had it bad.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

That weekend started out pleasantly boring. I declined an invite from Eva to go club-hopping with her and her crew, and not just because her little scene in the library still had me ticked, but I just didn’t feel like leaving my nest. I wanted some peaceful solitude.

After E. called me a total buzzkill and hung up on me, I shrugged, curled up on my couch with some homework and popcorn, and started a marathon of my favorite movies.

When my cell phone rang a little before eleven, I was beginning to feel sleepy. I figured it was Eva again, drunk calling me, demanding I dress my ass up and come join her already. So I dawdled with reaching for the receiver.

Upon seeing Home on the caller ID, however, I suddenly wanted to bawl. I nearly attacked the phone, starved to hear my mommy’s voice. I know. I actually missed my parents. And my annoying older sister. Our cat, Doodles. Oh, and my bedroom.

I missed them all so very, very much.

I was far and gone past homesick.

“Hey, Mom,” I answered coolly, trying not to sound hella anxious to hear her voice. “Don’t worry. I’m fine. School is fine. And no, Eva hasn’t totally converted me to the dark side yet.” I poked at my nose ring, deciding not to mention that quite yet. I’d have to gauge her mood first.

“Honey.” My mother’s voice touched my ear, and it was as if I were sitting at our kitchen table again, sipping on hot chocolate with a bunch of marshmallows as we played cards and talked about our day. “I don’t want to alarm you, but…”

The hair on the back of my neck immediately stood on end.

But, no, no, no. I wasn’t alarmed.

I was totally freaked.

“What?” I demanded.

She sighed. There must not have been any way for her to cushion the blow, because she came right out and said, “Jeremy’s father found a way to get the case dropped. It’s not going to trial.”

“Oh, my God.” My vision wavered. If I hadn’t already been camped on the couch, I might have collapsed to the floor. “Oh, my God.” Did this mean I was going to be stuck as Reese Randall for the rest of my life, always checking over my shoulder, never feeling safe or settled, forever pursued by a crazed, blood-hungry maniac? “When?”

“Thursday, but listen…This isn’t a reason to worry. I don’t want you to—”

“Thursday?” I very nearly screamed. “Thursday? But…” Oh, my God. Why hadn’t she called to tell me this on Thursday? “But he was being accused of attempted murder. How could they just drop that kind of case?”

“Sweetie, his father is a very good lawyer, and—”