Page 81 of Devious Lies

“I had to run it, you understand?” he asks, and I nod, incapable of speech.

“But I ran one on me too. For you. And you can have it, Maria. I will willingly give it to you. But if you want to know anything, Maria. Just ask me. Ask me and I’ll tell you.”

I bite my lip and warmth fills me. Those jet fighter pilots in my stomach are revving their engines.

I know he just told me the reason he’s brought me here.

Because I am his.

And I know it should be enough. I want it to be enough.

My heart squeezes.

The truth is, I want more from Luc than to share his bed and his home.

I want more than to just belong to him. I want him to belong to me too, but I don’t know how to ask for that.

Some people don’t know how to love.

Maybe he will someday.

I can dream, can’t I?

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE-LUC

Ismirk as the first few notes from Poison’s Every Rose Has Its Thorn begin to play across my sound system and I shake my head.

Maria certainly has eclectic taste.

“I love this song!” She shouts from the living room and starts to sing.

Badly.

But I fucking love it.

The final delivery of Maria’s stuff arrived two days ago, and I have to admit, the woman has more shit than I ever imagined.

We’ve been unpacking all day. She’s wearing a pair of shorts that I’d spank her ass for if she tried to leave the house with them, but I have to admit I don’t hate how she looks every time she bends over in them to grab another knick-knack from one of the eight boxes of stuff my guys removed from her apartment.

I grin as I pick up one of the seventeen shot glasses, she has in the box marked kitchen.

This one says Dallas, Texas. There’s one with big glass boobs on it that says Fort Lauderdale. And another with the Statue of Liberty etched into it.

“What?” she asks, grinning as she snatches it out of my hand.

“You, uh, seem to like shot glasses,” I say.

“They’re the cheapest souvenir you can buy when you’re in a new city and they fit perfectly in a carry-on bag.”

She gets quiet then and takes the rest of them out, loading them into the dishwasher.

Something about the memory subdues her, and I curse under my breath and tug on her arm.

This is the side of her I’ve been wanting to know for months.

The Maria I used to watch on my security feed is cocky and arrogant.

Someone might call her wanton or promiscuous when she’s working, teasing customers, and smiling at them. But I know that's always been an act.

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