Page 110 of The Truths that Deceive

It shouldn’t work, what he’s doing to my clit, but it’s building, and this time my vision wavers and my whole body is hit by wave after wave of violent, gorgeous contractions and I come. I can feel it, warm everywhere. He pulls his hand away and holds my hips tight and starts to slam so hard and deep we both start to move on the floor.

He yells out. “Fuck, Calista. Fuck!”

And then he comes. Inside of me, painting my insides, and his cock twitches. He half collapses on me, then catches himself and rolls me so I’m on him, the hardness of his cock against me.

Smith wraps his strong arms around me, his cock taking its time to deflate.

“Fuck, you’re like the human version of Viagra. You keep a man rock-hard. Jesus.”

He guides my mouth to his and kisses me. Then he slowly rolls us up.

“There are some clothes in the bedroom,” he says, tweaking my hard nipples.

I stand, legs wobbly as he jumps up and throws me over his shoulder. Then he carries me into the bedroom and tosses me on the bed. He tucks himself away and is about to speak when a phone rings in the other room.

“Wait here.”

I glare at his back as he crosses to the door. “Like I can go anywhere?”

Smith doesn’t answer, just disappears out of the room. Soon, I hear him talking, and it hits me that I can also hear another voice.

That wasn’t a phone, it was some kind of weird-ass doorbell.

Someone’s at the door.

I quickly get off the bed and dress in black sweats from inside the closet. They’re way too big, so I kick off the pants and let the long T-shirt fall to my thighs as I rush to listen.

The door is open a crack, but he’s on the other side and I can’t make anything out, at least beyond the wordsticketsandtomorrow. Heart beating fast, I press closer… something about an explosion? Nothing after that.

Then loud as day, Smith says, “Learn anything?”

I scowl as I push the door open. An array of packages in plain shopping bags is on the floor. Smith is bent down, behind the sofa. He flips back the rug and rises.

“Should I have?”

“I got you the shit you asked for,” he says, ignoring my question as he crosses back over to the bags. “Clothes, computer shit. Everything that can make a little hacker’s heart beat fast.”

“Internet?”

“Yep.” He tosses me two bags. I catch one, the other falls, spilling dark denim and black cotton.

I look into the one I caught. Hoodies, shirts. Underwear of the cotton variety. Socks and shoes. And I touch one of the sneakers. “Thank fuck, no heels.”

His gaze runs up over me. “I like you in heels. You run like a gazelle in heels. Hot as fuck.”

“Thank you?”

I pull out a variety of clothes and duck back into the bedroom to pull on underwear, slightly too big jeans, a top, and an oversize hoodie.

Smith turns as I come back, and his gaze slides over me, an upturn to that mouth I might crave, and I open the other things. He’s right, my heart’s in overdrive and I am practically gooey inside.

Other girls like rings, flowers. Give me a computer and a modem and I’m in love.

“Everything you could want.” He watches as I set up. “Router, drives, computer… This isn’t my jam. I know some things, but…”

For the first time since leaving Germany, I’m in my element. When I’m done, and I know my signal’s about as untraceable as I can make it on the fly with the VPN and what he’s got—which is pretty fucking sweet—I sit on the sofa, feet on the oak coffee table, and get to work. First, I want to know where that message came from. And from whom.

Aaron’s no rookie and the message he supposedly sent was a rookie move.

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