Page 137 of The Kiss of Deception

I have plenty of practice at pretending, after all

The warmth of the setting sun doesn't get a second to kiss my face. Because Miles is there, doing it himself.

But this kiss is different from any other we’ve shared—and I wonder if it will always be like that, if we’ll always discover new angles in the familiar shapes.

It’s bruising, the kiss.

Like he’s both punishing me for running away and embedding himself into my soul, so I have no peace, no home—only him.

“Still so mad at you,” he growls into my mouth, not wasting time to kiss me again.

My reply is breathless, as I tangle my fingers in his hair. “Glad to see you’re learning the art of multitasking.”

“Yeah?” His nails dig into my ass. “Let’s go home so my fingers can get some practice too.”

I won’t argue with that. As a matter of fact, I lead the way with eager steps, yearning to lose myself in his arms where nothing else can touch me—not even reality.

If only for a few hours.

As we walk, I squeeze the perfect muscles of his ass. “Blackstein?”

“Yes, love?”

“I love you.”

For all the time I’ve felt it, for all the times I’ve just looked at him or thought of his face and those words immediately popped into my head in bold, golden letters—I don’t often voice them.

Every time I do, it’s like it’s the first time I say the L-word all over again. His head whips in my direction so fast that he trips on his own feet, the ones that so gracefully take him distances on white-stripped green fields. Always careful to keep me upright and intact, though, he straightens quickly and faces me.

But I’m already facing him, watching as the three little words wrap around him, taking root deep and blooming in his chest. He grins up at the sky, and the sun shoots up from within him—not the other way around.

“Get out of the way!” We’re startled by an intruding horn.

“She loves me, lady,” Miles yells back. “I need a second.”

The blonde lady behind the wheel isn’t moved. “Get out of the way or I’ll call the police.”

Shooting her my best apologetic look, I pull my short-circuited non-fake boyfriend to the side. Her farewell comes with an angry press on the gas pedal, and she leaves us blissfully alone.

“Home.” He makes us almost jog toward my Jeep. “I need you home, now.”

“Just another kiss.” I try an uncharacteristic pout, knowing he can’t deny me.

Leaning against my car, I wait for him to cage me in. He doesn’t make me wait, his heat more scorching than the sun-warmed hood of the Jeep.

“If I kiss you now.” He bends down to whisper in my ear. “There’s no way I’ll be able to make myself stop. And we’ve already angered enough people today. Spending the night in a police station would definitely hinder the plans I have for you.” His nose grazes my neck as he finishes. “And I do have plans that entail the entire night.”

“Awfully sure of yourself,” I mirror his tone, tipping my head to give him access.

“Nah, just very greedy and hungry and with a lot of free time on my hands now that I’m unemployed.”

Though he knows it isn’t necessary, he doesn’t waste the opportunity to grab my waist and give me a boost. As soon as I’m settled, he invades my senses to pull the seat belt and buckle me in.

When I’m effectively trapped in, he seizes my neck in his wounded hand and kisses me. He kisses me in a way that will bruise too, bruise deeper than skin, only stopping when he knows I’m panting through swollen lips and tingling all over.

“Go.” I shove him away, trying to yank the door shut. “Or we’ll never leave this parking lot.”

The door doesn’t close until he relents. Forearms folded on the window, he gives that damn indented smirk. “I definitely could make that work, too.”

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