Page 165 of When Lies Unfold

I suck a bruise on each perfect tit before I’m overcome with the need to claim her mouth again. Our lips collide in a fierce kiss that has blood surgin’ to my cock.

This is the only woman who can get me fired up so quickly like this. Mouth drawin’ from hers for mere seconds, I tug off her socks and boots before nearly rippin’ off the rest of her clothes.

Once she’s naked on my desk, my hands tremble when I cradle her face in my hands. In between deep kisses, our tongues dartin’ against each other, my voice is gruff with emotion. “If you’re gonna leave, then I’m gonna give you somethin’ to remember me by.”

Her breath catches as she whispers my name against my lips. “Santy.”

After another deep kiss, I capture her earlobe between my teeth, lovin’ how she arches. With my palms on her thighs, I spread her wider, lettin’ my thumb find her swollen clit.

“Santy, wait.” Her protest is on a labored breath. “I need to?—”

I work her clit in circles, cuttin’ off her words. I don’t wanna hear whatever it is she has to say. I need her to listen to me right now—to listen to what I’m sayin’ when I touch her.

I need her to know I hate the thought of her walkin’ back into the lion’s den. I hate the possibility of her dyin’ ’cause of me. Hate the idea of livin’ this life without her when it feels like I only just found her.

This woman’s changed my entire world. She makes me feel things I don’t even know how to name. What I do know is, my chest and gut fuckin’ hurt knowin’ I’m about to lose her.

Slidin’ my other hand up along her side until it rests at her nipple, I gently pinch the stiff peak, drawin’ a little moan outta her.

When her hand skates down my chest, those delicate fingers tracin’ over the indentations of my abdominals, my cock jerks. With painstakin’ slowness, she unfastens my pants to grip my bare length in her hand, and my cock throbs with need.

With her thumb, she smooths the wetness over the flared head, and I can’t resist givin’ a little thrust. Her hand’s holdin’ me so snug I’m afraid I’m not gonna last long at all.

A gut-wrenchin’ desperation clinches hold of me, and I take her mouth again, devourin’ her. Once I break off and suck in a much-needed breath, I speak against her lips, my voice gravelly. “Need you to put me inside.” My serrated breaths mingle with hers. “But you gotta know I’m not gonna be able to hold back.”

Her hot breath washes against my lips. “I don’t want you to.” The hand she’s wrapped around my cock flexes while her other hand reaches up to smooth back my hair from danglin’ in our faces.

When she speaks next, her voice sounds strained with sadness. “I want you to show me if you’ll miss me while I’m gone.”

Christ. If I’ll miss her? There’s no fuckin’ if about it.

The only “if” in my world is if I had the capacity to love any woman, it’d be her. She’s the only woman I’ve ever met who’s elicited such a visceral reaction from me—from the start.

For a split second, a memory flashes in the back of my mind from long ago, but I shove it aside.

My thumb grows still on her clit before I draw away slightly. Her hand relinquishes its hold on my cock, and when I palm her hips, it’s more to hold myself steady against the trace of doubt in her words.

It takes a monumental effort to push the admission from my throat. “I’ll be missin’ you more than you’ll miss Alma.”

Her eyes crease at the outer edges. “I don’t think that’s possible.” She presses a featherlight kiss to one corner of my mouth. “Because there’s no limit on how much I’ll miss her.” With a kiss to the other corner, she murmurs, “But you’re forgetting something.”

“What’s that?”

She leans back to peer up at me. “I have a thing for a certain man with girly hair, so I’m pretty sure I’ll be missing him like crazy.” A fiery sensation flares in my chest at the affection shinin’ in her beautiful brown eyes.

When I smooth back her short, dark fringe to reveal the other pockmarked scars along each side of her forehead and kiss them, her breath stutters.

“And I’m pretty sure I’ll be missin’ a certain mouthy-as-hell house cleaner like crazy.”

I kiss the other little scars along her cheeks and jawline. Swallowin’ past the lump in my throat, I let my mouth linger over the thumpin’ pulse in her throat. It’s spineless as hell, avoidin’ eye contact as I say it, but I do. “Promise you’ll find a way to come back to us.”

Her voice is a barely audible whisper. “I promise I’ll try.” When her palm splays over the center of my chest, I swear my heart beats even faster.

I cover her hand with my own, the scarred flesh of hers beneath my palm. Those blue morpho butterflies contrast with the dark black ink decoratin’ my own skin.

There are so many things I wanna say but can’t. They’re either stuck somewhere deep inside me or lodged in my throat. Which is why I decide to show her the only way I know how.

With my body. With my actions.

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