Page 45 of Vengeful Lies

He grabs my wrist with lightning speed and pulls me onto his lap. His fingers feather through my hair and then twist, keeping me in place.

“Yes, we’ve established how you like to watch,” he says in a gravelly voice, and I try to slow my racing heart. My fake fiancé shouldn’t have this kind of effect on me, especially because I hate everything about him.

His cock thickens and gradually pushes more firmly against my ass. Electricity dances along my skin as I think about how he had me pinned against the wall last night. How his fingers felt inside of me at Lucy’s. My gaze dips to his lips.Nope, I can’t do this again. When I look back into his eyes, I realize he’s staring at my lips as he says, “What’s my favorite meal?”

I can’t even think straight as his cock continues to strain against his pants and against me.

“How the fuck am I supposed to know?” I whisper.

“One day, it’ll be your cunt,” he says, and heat flashes straight to my core.

It’d be so easy. Too easy to slip into this tension and let him ravish me. But I can’t let him win.

Can I?

“You wish,” I say, but it’s barely a whisper.

He kicks up an arrogant smile as he loosens his grip around my hair but keeps me in place. His hand trails to my exposed midriff and finds the edge of the tattoo. He runs his thumb over it, and goose bumps erupt over my skin.

“I cooked it for you the other day,” he says distractedly, clearly more interested in my tattoo.

“The chicken?” I ask, and he nods.

I wonder what it would be like if his fingers trailed lower if I just gave in to this tension and got him out of my system.

“My grandfather used to make it for me.” I remain silent, and he meets my eyes, licking his lips. “What’s yours?”

“I’m vegan,” I say with a grin.

A slow smile spreads on his face, and it’s hard to believe this man is a monster. Something so brilliant and beautiful is truly criminal. “You’re such a fucking liar.”

I swallow hard.

“Cinnamon roll,” I admit, unsure where to put my hands. I don’t want to put them anywhere on him because I’m not sure if I’ll be able to control myself, so I put them on my legs, and I hate how submissive it makes me feel. He seems to notice.

“Why?” he asks.

I sigh, uncomfortable with all the questions. “Do we really have to do this?”

“Yes. Unless you plan on fucking this up for the both of us and not getting your guns back.” And the asshole has come back with a vengeance. All my curiosity about his very hard cock pressing into my jeans is gone. But I suppose it doesn’t matter telling him this much. It won’t do anything to hurt me.

“My father would take me out on Saturdays for shooting practice. He would get a coffee for himself and a hot chocolate for me, and the cinnamon roll would be a treat we shared. My father was strict when it came to eating clean and nurturing the body. So every time I think of the cinnamon roll I think of a treat and my time spent with him.”

I grow irritated at the idea that I’m becoming more vulnerable around him bit by bit.

I hate that I told him that.

I hate that I took this job.

I want my guns back, and I want to leave.

Fuck this city, and fuck Eli Monti.

“You get these hard lines on your forehead when you’re mad at me, did you know?” He lightly flicks my forehead. I swat his hand away and flip him off.

“So why don’t we make a lasting memory? Join me for a job this evening.”

“I’m busy.” I go to push off him, but he holds me in place. He grabs my jaw, and his thumb strokes against it gently. And I know I’m royally fucked with Eli because I should not be attracted to the man currently holding me prisoner in his arms, let alone sitting on hisveryhard cock right now.

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