By Brooke Harris
I like fast cars, beautiful women and great sex.
I hate drugs. I can’t stand the idiots who take them and I loathe the bastards who supply them. Drugs cost me my whole world.
I wear many faces; right now I’m Doctor Lucas Callaghan and I’ll be him until I get my revenge.
My real name will be the last words to ever pass their lips.
I hate my name, Aoife Brennan, as soon as people hear it they treat me differently because of my father.
Medical school isn’t my dream, it’s his. But, it’s the least I owe him after everything I’ve done. I’m trying to be a good girl, but even good girls make mistakes.
He’s lying about who he is, she’s kidding herself about who she can be. They’re polar opposites with one very big secret in common.
I follow him to the front door. We both stand in the hall for longer than necessary. I don’t offer to let him out, even though I know I should. But I want him to kiss me again. I want so much more than I know I can have.
He reaches for the doorknob. He’s going to let himself out. God, I don’t want him to go. Not like this.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say, finally breaking the silence.
‘I shouldn’t have kissed you.’
‘And I shouldn’t have kissed you back.’
He’s smiling. And for the first time since we met, the cloud of sadness that usually rests in the corner of his eyes is absent.
‘Are we okay, then?’ I stutter.
‘You mean am I going to tell anyone about this?’
‘No, Aoife. No, I’m not. I’m as much to blame as you are. Probably more so because I should know better.’
‘I’m not a child, Lucas. I do understand the word no.’
He looks at me as if he wants to rip my clothes off. I kind of wish he would. I take a deep breath.
‘If you kissed me again, I wouldn’t say no this time either,’ I say.
My teeth clamp against my bottom lip. I can’t believe I said that out loud. But all I can think about is how good his lips felt on mine and how much I want to feel them again. Kiss me, Lucas. Kiss me.
As if he reads my mind, Lucas’ hands grip my waist. One hand just above each hip, cementing me to the spot. His eyes focus on mine with such intensity, it burns.
‘You should say no, Aoife. You should run a mile from me.’
‘Why? Because you loved someone and losing them has fucked with your head?’
His eyes narrow, and his grip on my waist tightens almost to the point of hurting. I know it’s a flash of temper. This man is the nearest thing to a stranger to me. He could lose it completely and really hurt me, but I know he won’t. I trust him as I’ve never really trusted anyone before.
‘No. Because you don’t know me. You don’t know what I’m capable of.’
‘Then show me.’
‘Be careful what you wish for.’
‘I’ve already seen what you’re capable of. I’ve seen how much you care about people, but you try to hide that under a layer of fancy talk and cocky attitude.’
He forces me backwards, his hands still on my waist. I make a weird noise that I haven’t heard before as my back collides with the wall behind me, slapping the air out of my chest.
‘Don’t go there, Doctor Brennan. You’re not a psychology student.’
‘No. I’m just the girl you kissed. The girl who is still standing in front of you ten minutes later and waiting for you to do it again.’
USA Today bestselling author Brooke Harris is a self diagnosed romance addict. Realising at the age of seven that being a real person and not a cartoon character may prove a hindrance when applying for a role as a Disney Princess, she decided to create her own stories. As a grown up Brooke tried swapping the heels and tiaras in her stories for sex and revenge and published her first book, Rules of Harte in 2014. The Harte Series went on to become a #1 international bestseller.
Brooke lives in Kildare, Ireland with her young family. She daydreams about a climate where it doesn’t rain every day, but secretly she loves the green fields and heritage of Ireland.
Brooke also writes Psych-thriller under the pseudonym Janelle Harris.