Page 55 of The Truths that Deceive

But I also can’t deny I fucking love sex with him. Even thinking about it makes my stomach swoop and my toes curl.

“Shower time.”

It’s the first thing he’s said to me since he finished ravaging me in the jungle. A shudder ripples through me when I think of what things might have found us rolling around on the jungle floor, human and otherwise. I try to convince myself the shudder is one of disgust, fear, and horror.

But it isn’t.

I’m turned on.

I suck in a breath, nod, and hurry ahead of him through the clearing, snatching my arm from his hand when he grabs it.

I knew I had kinks, but that whole thing?

Jesus. It’s like I lost track of who I was for those scorching hot minutes.

With that kind of no-holds-barred sex.

The hunt. The capture. The fucking fiery passion that ensnared us both.

I turn on the water faucet and stare into the spray.

I’ve never experienced that kind of play before. The number of sexual partners I’ve had could be counted easily on two hands.

I’m about to peel off my shirt when I catch the shadow that falls across the floor.

“Can I have a little privacy?” I snap, my mouth battling against what my body screams for.

More.

Smith straightens from where he leans against the doorjamb. “After that? Sweet little thing, I’ve seen all of you; there’s nothing more for you to hide. And water’s kind of scarce here, so you’re not showering alone.”

Smith pulls off his T-shirt and I almost stagger at the bloodstains on his chest from where I cut his throat.

Where he forced me to cut him.

“I should have cut deeper.”

“I told you to try, but you were too anxious to get your tight little cunt on my dick.”

This is the real him.

The beast behind the urban sophisticate.

The predator behind the indifference and money.

He’s dangerous, and I hate that he turns me on.

He undoes his boots and kicks them off, then drops his pants. Naked. Perfection. And the cock’s as big as I remember it feeling in my hand, my mouth, and my pussy. And God help me, I want to touch.

Smith pulls off my top and bites each nipple through my bra. The bites are sharp, bloodthirsty, and they stake all kinds of claims. Then he unclips it and lets the bra drop to the tile floor.

“Take off your boots and skirt now or I’ll drag you into the water with them on. And I’m not sure you’re going to like that, because I’ll make you fucking wear them after.”

“Be still my fucking heart.”

He only smirks at that.

But I believe him and shuck the rest of my clothes off in record time. He’s already under the water, soaping up as I step into the tiny enclosure.

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