Page 127 of Brazen Deceits

I run the fabric of my skirt between my fingers. “Did you kill that guy?”

His hands clench and unclench. “No. But there’s no way he’s going to be thinking with his dick again. Mainly because he doesn’t have one.”

I swallow, not sure if that is better or worse than him being dead. “Good. Thanks.”

Trips takes a step forward, like he’s going to pull me in for a hug, but then steps back. “Of course, Crash. You’re going to need to lose the dress. There’s some…” He doesn’t finish, neither of us wanting to talk about the blood, even though it’s everywhere.

I nod, forcing myself to find something to change into. Upon inspection, the guys deem my boots clean, but I still wipe them down, just in case.

Once the van is unrecognizable, we drive back downtown, Jansen pulling me onto his lap on the floor, his heart loud against my ear. “Hey,” he whispers.

“Hey,” I say, tucking my nose into his shirt, his jacket and hat having vanished into the dumpster. Trips has on RJ’s van clothes, both the joggers and long-sleeve shirt too tight to leave anything to the imagination, his stocking feet as casual as I’ve ever seen him.

He’s wiped down his hands and face, but the iron tang of blood lingers under the harsh lemon scent of cleaner.

I’m wearing a dress shirt of RJ’s with a belt, reminding me of that awesome night at the club with RJ and Walker. Then I flash back to all the shit that came after, the heartbreak and weeks of worry. That devastation gets added to the mess ofemotions swirling inside of me, like a sprinkle of salt and a bay leaf tossed into a stew of bloody overwhelm.

Jansen’s hands brush over my back, RJ and Trips working to stow everything away before we get back to the hotel, Walker driving. My fingers drum against my thigh,one two three four five, the tsunami inside me needing a pressure release, something, anything, so I can sit here and pretend I’m fine.

Jansen rests his chin on my head. “Do you want to talk, beautiful?”

Do I? Would talking help me piece through the mountain of emotions smothering me?

Or would it be better to light them all on fire? Burn them away so they never bother me again?

I know which one seems safer.

Twisting in Jansen’s lap, I straddle him, dragging his mouth to mine. Pouring gasoline onto the excess emotion, lighting the match with a kiss meant to devour, to ignite.

He meets me, hands grasping my ass, grinding my pelvis against his, both of us shuddering at the contact. Digging my hands into his hair, yanking out his ponytail, I direct him to my neck, his tongue and teeth playing along the sensitive skin as I rock in his lap, needing more.

The thump of the floor flipping startles me into looking over my shoulder. RJ and Trips both stare at Jansen and me on the floor, their eyes dark with want.

I bite my lip, glancing between the two of them.

Trips’ hands clench at his sides as he leans back, his voice static and anger. “How long until the hotel, Walker?”

“Just about there. What’s up?”

Trips’ eyes don’t turn from me, even as Jansen slips his hands under the edges of the dress shirt and my underwear, sliding up and down the crease of my ass, my breath hitching as I squirm against him.

“Your girl is getting…impatient.”

Walker’s groan makes me whimper, Jansen tugging my ear between his teeth swiftly transforming it into a moan, and RJ’s soft “goddamn,” mixing into a sensual cacophony perfect for drowning out thought.

Trips breaks eye contact first, running his hand through his hair, wincing with the movement. “RJ, do you think you can get me some shoes before you join the orgy?”

I force myself to speak, to say what I’ve been thinking for longer than a good girl ever ought to. “Everyone’s invited, you know.”

Walker chuckles from the front as we pull into the underground garage. “That’s a whole lot of testosterone, princess. Are you sure you could handle all of us?”

“I’d love to try,” I say, Jansen’s finger spiraling around the pucker of my ass, the words more of a gasp than a statement.

RJ strides over to us, crouching on the floor and taking my mouth in a brutal kiss, so unlike my thoughtful hacker that my brain shudders completely, a sexual haze overtaking any lingering worries about the fact that I’m humping Jansen in the back of a spy van with three other guys watching.

He pulls back, and I try to chase him, to keep the flood of good feelings rolling through me. Snatching my chin, he forces me to open my eyes, to look at him. His eyes are hooded, and he keeps glancing at my lips as he speaks. “Sugar,I don’t know that I’m ready for what you have planned. But maybe, if it’s okay with you, I could watch?”

I bite my lip, the idea of him in the room, of putting on a show for him, making my body tingle. “I would love that,” I whisper, glancing at Jansen, who grins at RJ.

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