Page 17 of Unlawful Lies

A gentle tug breaks our contact, and it’s only the meagerest ounce of control that takes me from Edward’s probing hands to the bowels of the Salvatore home base.

“He wouldn’t keep the painting out in the open. He’d stash it somewhere.”

“What makes you think he wouldn’t hide it in his bedroom?”

“He’d want it somewhere public. Where his competitors would never know it existed, but it’s still under their nose.” I know him too well.

Through every step, I’m keenly aware of Edward’s bulk. Is it really better to work with the unknown demon to help the devil I know? I’m just not sure. Especially not when his presence has sucked up every atom of air in the room, and my chest is tight in all the wrong places.

I’m too loose in others and have to clamp my thighs together to keep them from trembling.

Those hands would feel so good on my actual skin. What else do those lips of his do?

“You’re not going to find a painting on me, Nicola.”

I glare at him, flushed at being caught staring. “I know,” I snap.

“Although I do have a tattoo.” He offers the comment casually enough for my interest to immediately perk. “It’s somewhere hidden. Somewhere you’ll only get to see if you’re a good girl.”

“Is it on your…ass?”

Edward chuckles before asking, “How badly would you like to find out?”

The tension at being caught any moment adds to the sexiness of the banter and when his chuckle grows darker, I know he’s seen the flush to my cheeks.

I lift my face to his, jutting my chin out. Uncomfortable because I know there’s no painting here. We’re going through the motions of a perfunctory search before I throw my hands in the air.

“This is pointless.”

Edward straightens from where he’s searching the shelves for hidden mechanisms. “What about a safe?”

“It’s not large enough to hold the painting Gio described,” I reply.

“Then maybe we need a break.” He crosses the room in three strides and takes my head in his hands, his fingers scouring through my hair to gently tip my face up to meet his.

“What—”

It’s also pointless to ask. My breath hitches in my chest, and I’m squirming beneath his hands as he lowers his lips to mine. A shadow veils his eyes before I lose sight of him. He drags me to his chest, mouth open, kissing me deeply until our tongues tangle and my stomach bunches.

This is different from the kiss in the garden.

My body reacts immediately, going hot and pliant like it somehow trusts him when I’m not sure it’s warranted.

Wetness pools between my legs, and his tongue in my mouth tugs at me. I nip down on his lip, running my hands over his where he holds me, softening.

As long as he doesn't stop kissing me. As long as he keeps touching me.

Edward groans and shifts his head to change up the angle. He kisses me harder. I should run. I should give in. I should get control of myself because I’m not supposed to feel this safe in his arms. Not when he’s bruising my lips and so close to sweeping me off my feet.

I gasp as his hand drops to my breasts and squeezes.

“Not tonight,” I somehow manage to get out.

“That implies the possibility of it happening another night,” he counters.

But he’s smiling when I break away. Tingling and horny, we manage to search the rest of the ground floor before a yawn splits my lips. For a different reason.

“I think it’s time we call it. The painting isn’t here. We knew it wouldn’t be.”

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