Page 8 of Tell Me Lies

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his stare still hard on mine in the mirror while his lips brushed my nape. “Why the hell aren’t you married?”

I lowered my eyes, afraid to look up. Afraid to see the deep need in his gaze. Afraid to fall deeper into the clutches of this madman. “I almost was once.”

“Almost?”

“I was working crazy hours trying to find a way to open my shop. Experimenting with different recipes, searching for a place I could afford, and looking into financing options. He decided my work meant more than he did.”

“Look at me,” he ordered in a rough tone that had my eyes lifting and latching onto his. “He was selfish and weak. He didn’t deserve you.”

“And you do?”

A nerve in his jaw ticked, and his grip around my waist tightened. “Perhaps not, but for days we’ve been cooped up in this house with so much sexual tension building between us that it’s become damn near unbearable. Forget everything and everyone else and let me make you feel good. Let’s make each other feel good.”

He was rock hard against me, and I could feel the pulse of his heart as hunger and pleasure spiraled through me. With a shake of my head, I tried pushing away as his hands lifted then traveled down my breasts, my stomach, then through my slick slit. “There’s nothing wrong with two consenting adults taking care of their needs,” he whispered against the shell of my ear. “I want you. I’m fucking mad for you. Let me make you come. Let me make you shiver.” Without breaking our stare, he pressed the palm of his hand against the engorged bud of my clit.

Desperate to break free from his blistering eyes, to stop trembling at his touch, and to keep my heart, body, and soul from being bare all the way to the bone, I pushed at his hand. “I don’t want this. I don’t want you. No matter how you arouse my body, you’re still a criminal. I won’t let you inside me. I won’t let you break me.”

“Yes, I’m a bad man, but you are far from being a saint, sweetheart. Last time I checked, harboring someone’s criminal activities in this country was a felony. So what does that make you?”

“Don’t compare me to you, West. I’ve never even had a speeding ticket. And as I’ve said a dozen times, I don’t know where Ben is. And … and I don’t want this. I don’t want a … a criminal.”

“Take a hard look at yourself in the mirror, Brooklyn. Think back to what I told you about these beautiful nipples.” He ran a hand over my tank top and the swell of my breasts, his eyes like dark coals and all over me. “Your mouth is one thing, but these tits still don’t lie. Neither does the wet heat between your thighs. Deny it all you like, but you’re hungry to be fucked by a criminal and way too beautiful to not have this body satisfied every damn day.”

Before I could disagree, he pulled my hips outward and pushed the swell of his erection against me. “Convince me I’m wrong. Tell me your nipples aren’t hard and your breasts heavy. Then tell me I’m imagining the hot arousal dripping down your thighs. Convince me, sweetheart. Take your best shot at making me believe you don’t want to feel my cock inside you, and I won’t lay another finger on you.”

“This is wrong. You are wrong,” I added, yet doing nothing to push him away as my sex ached for him when I wished it wouldn’t. “I don’t want this.”

“You do.”

“I don’t. This isn’t who I am.”

“Then turn around, look me in the eye, and tell me to stop.”

But I didn’t turn around, didn’t move. My strength was gone, my willpower dissipated. I just stood where I was. Staring into the heat of his gaze with my hips pressing against his swelling erection and everything in my sex a quivering bundle of nerves. Shameful tears stung my eyes as they stayed locked on his in the mirror, shredding me. Weakening me further. I may as well have had Fuck Me tattooed across my forehead.

He raised a dark brow while hunger burned in his gaze. “I knew my little deceiver was in there somewhere. Now breathe, stop with the deceit, and tell me what you want me to do,” he said in a tone deep, hypnotic, and unmistakably dominant.

Shivers tracked up my back and his words went straight to my clit. Was I losing my mind? Forgetting every moral my momma engrained in me? Letting this man put his hands on me was depraved, disgusting, and wrong on every ethical level. But suddenly, I was seeing more than just a merciless killer in West. There was a sadness, a loneliness, and a tic of compassion in his face, and I could all but feel his heartbeat even though he denied he had one. Worst of all, dammit, was that I loved what he was doing. The filthy talk. The raw passion. The threat of danger lurking behind his eyes. I wanted to cave to his needs. Comply to anything he asked. I wanted to climb on his dick and ride him until we were both boneless, spent, and I couldn’t take a step without remembering him inside me.

Everything in my head said I shouldn’t want him.

Everything in my heart said he was going to hurt me.

Everything in my body said I had to have him.

“I—I don’t want you to go.”

“Then slide your pretty fingers through your hot cunt and show me how wet you are.”

Sweetest Jesus, the mouth on this man. The absolute nerve. He was everything I never thought I wanted, everything I thought I loathed. Yet, I did just as he commanded and lowered a hand through my slit, then rotated to face him and held it in front of me.

“Soaked,” he said in a tone that vibrated with control. “Goddamn soaked.”

“I still hate you,” I replied with a tremor in my tone. “I despise all that you are.”

“Noted,” he said with a tick in his jaw before capturing my mouth with his and kissing me senseless as his fingers plunged inside me. Sweeping his tongue over mine and stroking with long, leisurely licks while hooking his fingers at the perfect angle inside my sex had me drowning in his taste. Weakening at his touch. Falling prey to a hired killer as he abolished all my self-worth and ripped away every bit of strength and courage I had left.

“For the love of fuck, I need to taste you, need to be inside you.” His fingers slid free, he pushed the shirt over my head, unclasped my bra, then hoisted me up. With my legs winding around his waist, he walked me to the mattress that was still without linens but had been returned to the bed frame. He dropped me onto my back, staring at me with his gaze like dark coals and the eyes of that damn snake shooting ice up my spine.

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