Page 35 of Tell Me No Lies

Again.

Another jolt spears through me when his fingers roll my wet, pebbled nipple and his tongue makes another pass over that surprisingly sensitive spot. My fingers dig into his skin. “Holy shit that feels good.”

"You wanted a secret just between us." The heat of his mouth trails across my body, headed for my neglected breast. "I've gotta make it a secret worth keeping."

I made the concession hoping it would give him time to work through whatever hang-ups are keeping him from recognizing the reality of our situation, but now I'm thinking it might not be a terrible idea for other reasons. Keeping this just between us makes it feel a little more special. A little more intimate.

And will spare me from having to explain everything to Lydia. I already had to do damage control after he stormed up to me at The Cellar, declared himself my husband, and dragged me off, leaving me to pretend I wasn’t doing the walk of shame as I came back. I’m not sure she’ll believe another concocted story about payback for cockblocking him at work.

It's not that I want to keep this from my best friend, I just don't quite know how she'll react. Part of me thinks Lydia might worry about Tate. I don't have the best track record when it comes to men. I tend to chew them up and spit them out, leaving them to pile up behind me. But I don't want to chew Tate up.

I definitely wouldn't spit him out.

I gasp when the scorching heat of his mouth clamps onto my other nipple, the flick of his tongue bringing my back off the bed. The sound that comes out of me is unflattering and unhinged, but I can't help it. My vocal cords have a mind of their own right now. A mind controlled by the man playing my body like a freaking fiddle.

Or bass, in this situation.

I always thought I was just not the kind of girl who got loud during sex, but now I'm thinking maybe that's not the case. The two times Tate and I were physical before, I did everything possible to stay silent. I knew if we got interrupted it would all stop, and I didn't want our interactions to end until I was finished.

And boy did I finish.

But now there's no one on the other side of the wall. No one to come barging through the door and ask what the fuck we’re doing. And my brain seems to know it. Because when Tate adds suction to whatever the fuck it is he's doing, his name slips out, along with a long, loud moan.

His mouth pulls free and I fight for air, trying to drag in as much oxygen as I can to feed my starving brain. When I notice he's working my stretchy shorts loose, I lift my butt off the mattress, eager to help him get his dick inside me any way I can.

But Tate makes no move to take off his own pants. Instead, he continues sliding lower. Low enough there's no mistaking his intentions.

I clamp one hand between my thighs. "What are you doing?"

Tate is undeterred by my blockade. Instead of stopping, he slides his tongue along the fingers protecting my pussy. "It seems like you know what I'm doing."

"Why would you do that?" I try to shift around, but his arms hook around my spread thighs, pinning me in place with his face right there.

Tate’s eyes lift to mine, narrowing. "What do you mean, why would I do that?" His head cocks, like he's trying to figure out what the fuck I'm getting at. "Has no one ever licked your cunt before?"

All the air rushes from my lungs. "It sounds so filthy when you say it like that." In a good way. A very good way.

Tate leans down, the tip of his tongue teasing along the seam of my middle and ring fingers, sliding up to stop where they join my hand. "Answer me, Piper."

I swallow hard, staring down at him. The sight is unbelievably erotic, and I can't make myself look away. I give my head a sharp shake. "No."

I'm not sure what I expect, but the slow smile that pulls across his lips is not it. "Good. Now move your hand."

I'm not sure what to do. Not sure how I feel about Tate doing that down there. I want it. A lot. But it feels like it might be too much. Like it might be one more thing I will never come back from.

"Just give me a little working room then."

His tongue presses between the same two fingers, barely pushing them apart until he can reach what's beneath. I suck in a breath at the wet glide over my heated skin. Even just that tiny bit feels so fucking good. Good enough that I separate my fingers a little more. Tate takes full advantage, dragging the flat of his tongue from my opening all the way up, stopping short of my clit, his path impeded by my makeshift blockade.

He groans against me, breath warm on my skin. "Fuck. You taste so good." He licks me again, stopping just beneath the spot I’m too afraid to allow him to reach. "I could do this all fucking night, Sugar." He stays at the cleft of my fingers, tucking his tongue up and under.

My body jolts and I make a strangled sound as it brushes against my clit. But Tate only does it once before sliding away, leaving me hanging.

“You sure you don’t want to move that hand?” Tate’s lips lock onto one of my knuckles, barely sucking as his tongue flicks rhythmically against the bump of my joint.

I do want to move my hand. Very much. I just…

I'm not sure what's holding me back exactly. Is it simply that I don't want him to ruin another act for any man who might be in my future since he’s been a little on the fence about his place there? Maybe.

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