Page 112 of Under the Lies

He grabs my wrist, twisting and pinning it behind my back, pulling me close. “I think it’s about time you learned something, Baby Brooks.”

“And what’s that?” Defiant. Always a joy. Challenging him.

I like the taste of defiance on my tongue, full of empowerment and steel.

It tastes freeing.

By the way Noah’s eyes dance, I think he enjoys it as much as I do.

“I don’t want to own you.” Noah’s fingers drift under my chin, directing my gaze to meet his wicked eyes. Eyes of a man who knows what he wants and won’t stop until he gets it. “I want to see the world from your point of view. I want to taste you and fuck you until I have every inch of your skin committed to memory.”

I shiver, face heating with his words.

Since the morning he took me to my granddad’s old apartment, things have been different. Noah hasn’t been as cold, almost playful. And he’s been around. Every morning, I might wake up alone, but all I have to do is travel downstairs to find him seated at the bar.

We still play our chess game, with one move a day. It’s slow going, but it’s one of my favorite parts of the day.

“Be careful with those words, Noah, or you might have me catching feelings.” I smirk while a small voice inside me hisses, too late.

I try my best to ignore it.

“That’d be the stupidest thing you could do.”

I ignore the sting his words bring. He’s right, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to listen. Logic and the heart don’t always go hand in hand. If it did, I would’ve never stepped foot back in this town.

Originally, I came in here to ream his ass out but now, this close to him, wrapped in the intoxication that is Noah Kincaid, I’ve decided I want something else.

I run a hand down his tie, feeling his gaze as I wrap it around my hand. Once, twice, pulling him close until there’s no space between us.

Stretching on my tiptoes, I lean in until our lips are a hairsbreadth away. “How much do you want me, Noah?”

He doesn’t answer save for his fists clenching at his sides. His sharp intake of breath.

He doesn’t need to.

Not when I have my answer in the form of his hard-on brushing against my stomach. Steel encased in a custom suit, just waiting to be let free.

I loosen my grip on his tie, smoothing it on his chest as I sink to the ground.

“Sayer.” His voice is gruff, fist clenching my hair.

My eyes dance as I look at his dick still straining against his zipper.

It’s a struggle to keep from licking my bottom lip.

“Perfect,” he murmurs. “You look so perfect on your knees with those flushed cheeks and plump swollen lips, just waiting for my cock.”

My thighs clench as lava churns deep in my core.

His thumb traces my bottom lip while heat and desire simmer in his eyes. “Do you want to suck me off?”

“No,” I tell him as my eyes betray me by drifting toward his erection. My fingers itch to let him free.

“I think you do.” Each word is more strained than the last. He’s struggling, edging on losing control.

Smiling, I peer up at him from under my lashes. “I think you’re the one that wants to get me off.”

“Damn right I do.” His nostrils flare.

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