Sweet Liar Read Free Page B

his.
    Putting one big hand behind her head, he turned her to the side and began to kiss her with all the passion she had missed in her life. He kissed her the way she had always wanted to be kissed, had dreamed of being kissed, kissed her the way fairy tales are supposed to end, the way all the books say a kiss should feel—the way no one had ever kissed her before.
    As he moved one of his big, muscular thighs between her much smaller ones, Samantha’s arms went fully around his neck, pulling him closer, pulling him as close as he could come to her.
    Moving his mouth away from hers, he kissed her neck, kissed her ear lobe as his hands moved down her back. Cupping her buttocks in his hands, he moved her so most of her weight was on his thigh, then ran one hand down the length of her leg and lifted it, settling her ankle about his waist.
    â€œHey Mike, you’re drawin’ a crowd.”
    At first Samantha didn’t hear the voice, didn’t hear anything; she only felt.
    It was the man who broke away. Pulling his lips from her skin, he put his hand to her cheek, caressing her cheek with his thumb while looking into her eyes, smiling at her.
    â€œHey, Mike, this your long-lost cousin or somebody you picked up on the street?”
    Leaning forward, the man gave Samantha one more soft kiss then took her ankle from his waist and held her hand.
    It was when he moved away from her that Samantha began to think again. And the first emotion she felt was horror, absolute, sheer horror at what she had done. She tried to snatch her hand from the man’s grasp, but he held her fast.
    There were three sweaty men who looked as though they wore their cigarettes rolled up in their T-shirt sleeves and drank beer for breakfast standing in front of them, all with leers on their faces, all with smirking expressions, as though they knew something they weren’t supposed to know. “You gonna introduce us or not?”
    â€œSure,” the man said, holding onto Samantha’s hand in spite of her tugs as he pulled her forward. “I’d like you to meet…” Turning, he looked at her in question.
    Samantha looked away from him; she didn’t want to look in his face again. No mirror was needed to tell her that her own face was brilliant red with embarrassment. “Samantha Elliot,” she managed to whisper.
    â€œOh, yeah?” the man holding her hand said, then looked back at the three men, who were now nudging each other at this new knowledge that Mike didn’t know the woman he had moments before been kissing as though he meant to swallow her whole.
    â€œI’d like you to meet my tenant,” the man said with a grin. “She’s going to be living in my house with me.” The pride and delight in his voice came through clearly.
    Giving a sharp jerk on her hand, Samantha freed herself from his grip. She would have thought her mortification could not deepen, but at the realization of who this man was, it did. Horror, humiliation, panic, revulsion were all emotions that crowded into her, and she wanted to flee. Or die. Or preferably both.
    â€œSome roommate!” Laughing in a vulgar way, one of the men looked her up and down.
    â€œYou wanta live with me, baby, just let me know,” the second man said.
    â€œWith you and your wife,” the third man said, hitting the second one in the ribs. “Honey, I’m not married. I’ll take real good care of you. Better than Mike would—or could.”
    â€œGet out of here!” Mike yelled back good-naturedly, no animosity in his voice, just good humor as he picked up the football and tossed it to them.
    One of the men caught the ball, and the three of them went down the street, punching each other and laughing as they walked.
    The man turned to her. “I’m Mike.” Putting out his hand to shake, he didn’t seem to understand when Samantha only stared at him. “Michael Taggert.” When she