Page 71 of Tell Me Lies

“Your father was a bad guy, Anya.”

“I know.” Her eyes dropped again, and her strength of moments ago was gone. “I hate him for what he did.”

I leaned back, my whole body firing up. Did she really know what hate felt like?

“That’s why I want to be a criminal investigative journalist. To expose bad guys like my father.” She uncrossed her leg and moved to the edge of the chair. “That’s why I need to pass your class. I have a job lined up, but it depends on maintaining my 3.5 GPA.”

“Have you visited your father in prison?” I couldn’t focus on the classwork when I needed to know her ties to her father. I needed to know if she really hated him for what he did.

She shook her head. “No. I’ll never see him. I changed my last name because I don’t want to be associated with him. He’s dead to me.”

“Do you really want a dead father?” I furrowed my brows.

“He’s better off dead, but that’s too good for Gomez. He should live and think about what he’s done until he takes his last breath.” Her jaw clenched, and her face was stone cold.

I knew the look of hate, and I knew the sound of truth. Anya didn’t lie. And now I had to relieve myself of my truth no matter how dangerous or insane I sounded.

“You know what I want?” I met her gaze, heat growing between us. She nodded. Yes, she knew. But I wanted to say it to her, let the words sink in. “I want you in my bed.”

Chapter Eleven

Anya Sanchez

I stood off the chair, legs shaking and my heart rattling against my rib cage. Had I heard Ursin correctly? Had he really said he wanted me in his bed?

He stood too, and there was a potent heat attaching us, drawing us together to burn like ash. But I didn’t care if this was wrong. I wanted to feel what it was like to be with a man—a real man—like Ursin Miller. Masculine and powerful, he could chew me up and spit me out, and still, I would beg him to do it again.

I was obsessed with him. He was the savior I needed when I didn’t know. He saved me from my father, and I would honor that sacrifice until I died.

In the heat of the lust overpowering my sensibility, I lunged over his desk, my knees against glossy cherrywood. He growled and picked me up as if I weighed nothing. Just a feather to strong arms. And I wrapped my legs around his waist.

“You fucking minx,” he said, hot against my lips, kissing me in between words. “You’re not so innocent, are you?”

I whimpered, taking his lips between my teeth when he allowed. “But I am, Ursin. I’ve never hurt a fly.”

He grunted. “You kill me every time I’m around you.”

“I’m sorry.” I paused to gaze into his divine eyes, taking him in, the strong features, the thick silky hair, the lips I craved since I laid eyes on him. “I don’t want to kill you.”

“What do you want to do, then?” The question was low in his throat, it was guttural, and so much was behind it. I could see the inflection in his chameleon eyes.

And he waited for me—something he hadn’t done. I was always waiting on him and his admission to wanting me as much as I wanted him. And there he was, hanging on my word. And I couldn’t lie—the power I felt to have this man at my feet was intoxicating.

“I want whatever you want to do to me.” I shuddered. The full gravity of my statement didn’t compute. Not really. Because I knew he wanted to have sex, but I didn’t understand what sex with Ursin truly meant. I wanted to find out, though.

His breath grew sharp, labored, and it wasn’t long before he was carrying me out of the library and up the curving staircase, and down a long corridor to what was his room. And he put me down on the silky slate gray bed, and I molded into the mattress as if it waited for me, as if I was meant to be there.

Ursin pulled up the hem of his t-shirt and slipped the material over his head. Tan, muscled abdominals, and chest and arms flexed against the air. God, he was gorgeous. He was perfect. My insecurities came in, waving fingers at me. You’re not experienced. You aren’t perfect. You don’t know how to pleasure a man like this.

I closed my eyes. I wouldn’t let my weakness stop me. I was determined when I wanted to be, and my heart craved Ursin, this thing with him. My brain wasn’t onboard. Too bad. Logic didn’t live in this room. Consequences didn’t exist here with Ursin. The past didn’t influence us. There was only here and now. This was where I wanted to thrive.

Ursin pressed his body against mine, his full weight bearing down on me, nearly suffocating me. But the kiss he pressed against my lips gave me life. His wet lips moved over mine, tasting and savoring me. I whimpered as the pressure down south built exponentially.

Wrapping my legs around his waist, I wanted to feel his erection against me. I wanted to know how aroused he was just for me. I bucked my hips up to him, and his kiss turned savage. I took what I could, but he was far too advanced in so many ways, and definitely in the bedroom. I’ve never been kissed so thoroughly. He didn’t leave a fragment untouched, claiming every part of my mouth.

And then he was unzipping my shorts and pushing them down. “I want these off you. Now.”

I shimmied, forcing the rigid material down to my knees and then kicking them off to the side. He pulled down the waistband of my lacy thong—the only one I had. I didn’t wear stuff like this, but I knew he liked it. I could see how much he liked the blue dress I wore to the club. I loved how much he liked it. Control came with the visual appeal. It was powerful.

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