Page 93 of Beautiful Liar

I saw my play. An open living space, double doors ahead spilling out into the night. My body stiffened, my heartbeat raced, and I started to run but got nowhere.

I squealed as Kieran fisted the back of my hoodie and slammed me against the wall. Then as if we weren’t in a house full of guards and his family, he devoured my mouth. The next few moments a haze as he shoved me into a room. A dark room with a bed. As good as any.

“What happened to our room?”

“There’s thirteen bedrooms in this place,” Kieran breathed into my neck, planting kisses against my throat as heundid my pants, yanking them open and pulling out my cock. “I’ll fuck you in every one of them.”

He shoved me on the bed and yanked my pants down. I’d already lost my shoes.

“Thirteen fucking bedrooms?”

He reached behind him and lifted his shirt off his body. My cock sprung to attention at the sight of him. The man so damn beautiful. The peaks and valleys of his perfect form, the chaotic look on his face. Lust, possession, need. The dark dusting of hair around his cock, and that beautiful appendage gleaming with precum. I almost forgot what I’d meant to say. “Thirteen bedrooms sounds fucking fantastic,” I said as he covered his naked body over mine. The heat of his skin flush against my body. I cupped the globes of his ass and pulled him into me, our cocks slotted together.

It felt so fucking good.

“Do all these rooms have lube?” I asked as he started to kiss down my chest.

“I’m always ready. I’m a fucking boy scout.”

He sucked my cock into his mouth, and I melted onto the bed. Fucking shit. I wasn’t going to last. I didn’t last, coming down his throat too fucking soon. But we did have twelve more bedrooms to explore.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Kieran

I watched Tomás asleep. The steady lift and fall of his chest, the rhythmic breathing. His long lashes fanned out on his cheeks. The drying curls around his face. He slept curled tight on his side, his hand under his cheek. He looked tensed in sleep. As if the monsters were chasing him in his dreams.

I knew the feeling too damn well.

After we fucked in three bedrooms, we found Ros who led us to the third floor and a much larger bedroom. After we showered, Tomás had drilled me into the bed and himself into a coma.

Dressed, I left him asleep in search of Tristan.

There was shit I still needed to reconcile. I found him in his office. It was a large space. He looked up as I walked in. His face haggard, older. A hint of grey at his temples. His clothes rumpled.

“I need to know that my friends will be safe.”

“I give you my word.”

“And no one ever touches Tomás. Ever.”

Tristan smirked. A small movement of his lips. “Love is a dangerous thing, son.”

I almost told him not to call me son, but I bit it back. I had to move on from my past hatred of the man. I didn’t need a father. I didn’t need to love Tristan Brennan. I needed to survive him. “I know. And he knows it.”

Tristan nodded in agreement. “Then I am happy for you.”

“But?”

Tristan got to his feet, stretched out, and poured two glasses of bourbon, handing me one of them. He swallowed his empty. I swirled mine. My diabetes limited my drink intake. Tristan seemed to capture that bit.

“Fuck, sorry.” He took my drink and downed it too. “What I said originally still stands. I want us to get to know each other. You are my son. One day, you’ll lead.”

“I don’t want to lead the illegal business,” I said. “I want to go back to Arcadia, get a law degree, help you legitimately.”

He nodded. “Give me time to prepare new bylaws for the school and I can make that happen. I never underestimated your brilliance. You get that from your mother.”

The mention of my mother hurt. I still had one thing I’d yet to resolve, and it hurt more than I thought it would. “Is Lela still alive?”

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