Page 70 of When Lies Unfold

All breath is evicted from my lungs, inciting a searing burn when he continues in a husky murmur. “Makes me wanna do somethin’ too damn stupid for words. Like ask you to dinner.” His expression tightens with distaste. “Like I’m some fuckin’ teenager.”

His obvious aversion shocks a genuine laugh from me, and his eyes flash with interest. He tips his head to the side, his gaze scouring over my features.

Touch bordering on reverent, he slides a hand along my cheek, cradling it. The edge of his thumb lingers at the corner of my mouth. It sends a jolt through me, and my skin tingles, yearning for more of his touch.

It’s inexplicable, this inferno that blazes to life inside me with his mere proximity. When he touches me, that fire is all-encompassing, searing through me with an intoxicating heat unlike any other.

Witnessing him struggle with this invisible tether drawing us together fuels my need to stoke that fire even more. It makes me want to push him, to tempt him. Desire tightens my stomach, my craving for his touch so potent.

“Maybe you should do stupid shit—just once. As an experiment.” I clear my throat, attempting to evade and evict the haze of arousal from my voice. Firming my tone, I continue. “And see what happens when you ask instead of demand.”

A pronounced crease forms between his brows as though he’s attempting to solve a complicated puzzle. “Ask.”

The way he repeats that single word, as though it’s foreign to him, elicits another little laugh from me. His attention instantly zeroes in on my mouth, his gaze turning heated.

His jaw works as his eyes hold mine captive, voice barely an audible rumble. “Come to dinner with me.”

When I part my lips to tell him that wasn’t a question, it causes his thumb to dip inside and graze my teeth. My tongue rasps against the callused pad of his thumb, and his nostrils flare before he mutters a guttural, “Please.”

I struggle to catch my breath, my chest rising and falling with labored movements. “Why?”

A micro-expression of surprise and confusion crosses his features. “Why?” He repeats this slowly.

“Why?” I drag in a much-needed breath. “Why me?”

His gaze scrapes over me as though he’s attempting to delve beneath the surface of all my layers of defenses.

“Fuck if I know.” Spoken with more than a modicum of pissed-off revulsion, his response has my muscles returning to their tense state as I pull back. He winds my ponytail around his fist, fingers tightening to hold me in place.

Bringing his face closer, the tips of our noses brush against one another. His breath washes against my lips as he hisses, “’Cause you’re under my goddamn skin already. That’s why.”

Irrational hurt flares within me at his answer, and I attempt to draw back to spear him with my glare, but he holds firm.

“Uh-uh.” His low murmur is hoarse with underlying heat. “I know you’re feelin’ the same thing. And you gotta know it pisses me off, too.” A faint trace of a smirk touches his lips for a split second. “Knowin’ I’m not in this alone is the only consolation I get.”

All oxygen suspends in my chest as our eyes remain locked, our mouths so close his scruff gently scrapes against my skin.

“So, what’s it gonna be?” His voice is a deep, intimate rumble. “Gonna come to dinner with me?”

“I will, but only if you attend the tea party Alma planned for later today.”

Taut, like a rubber band stretched to its max, his silence reigns over us. I take advantage of it and continue. “It would mean the world to her if you did. She feels like your work is more important to you than she is.”

He edges back, gaze spearing mine. “She said that?”

“Basically.” Scowling at him, I add, “And don’t pretend you didn’t hear any of that, because we both know you have your creepy surveillance everywhere.”

Those fingers still threaded in my hair flex. “If I do, you’ll come to dinner with me?”

I hesitate, knowing I’m voluntarily edging farther inside the devil’s lair. “Yes.”

I’m doing this for Alma because she deserves a father who makes time for her. One who makes her feel like she doesn’t have to compete against his work to get his attention.

Santiago studies me for a long moment before giving a slow nod. “Deal.” His attention drops to my mouth. “But we gotta finalize it.”

Before I can make sense of his remark, his mouth collides with mine in a kiss that steals my breath along with the last shred of control I’ve been holding on to. It spurs to life that unsettling fluttery sensation in the pit of my stomach.

When his tongue delves inside, tasting me in a way that makes my panties grow damp, a surge of obstinance drives me to try and push him to lose control.

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