Page 29 of The Truths that Deceive

This man’s taking me home. He’s going to hand me over to someone. I’m pretty sure that someone’s high up with the CIA, but it doesn’t mean that that someone’s on the up-and-up.

I’m in the dark as all the information I’ve collected is shards, things I haven’t put together. All I know is somehow, some way, the Collectors name has shown up in all the chatter. And that makes me uneasy.

Not to mention my agent’s gone.

I also have my private mission. Revenge. And…

I’m in big trouble.

And I might not be able to sort it out before I’m handed over.

Right here and now, I make a decision. I’ll use Smith to get home. And by then I’ll work out how to run. I need to see if there’s a double agent, if everything’s connected.

I need to make sure my brother’s safe.

Smith’s an enemy.

I know this.

He puts a hand next to my head and leans in. “No, I, what, Juniper?”

My middle name caresses my skin with his low voice.

“No. I’m thinking…” I’m thinking I need to get to the bottom of this. I’m thinking how I can turn my enemy into my asset. I’m thinking I don’t know what’s worse, this man or whatever waits at the CIA or out in the wild. “I’m thinking I need my brother safe. He’s innocent.”

He nudges my thighs apart with one of his. “So that makes you guilty?”

“I thought you didn’t care about anything but getting paid?”

“I don’t have to care to like answers.”

Our gazes meet. Those blue eyes are pools of deception. Cleverness and barbs. Ice and heat I want to touch and melt into.

I don’t really think when I put my hand on his lean cheek, but the moment I do, the world lights up. And then I rise up and press my mouth to his.

For a moment he doesn’t move, and then he kisses me.

It’s a slow, devastating kiss, one that could floor a city to rubble. It makes my blood sing and my brain fog, and in those blissful seconds, all reasoning’s lost.

Slowly, he lifts his head. “Just remember,” he whispers, thumb rubbing on my lower lip, “you started this.”

Chapter 9

Smith

Calista is exactly what I thought and utterly unexpected.

I take her mouth, hard. And she gives back just as brutally. Hot and wet, her tongue spars and teases and it’s a tango of a kiss. One where we work together, stoking the fires, building and fighting for dominance. But hers is a game, a subconscious one giving me what I want and need. She fights just enough to make each slide and push of my tongue a micro victory.

She rocks against me and offers me her throat as I kiss my way down. What I want is to sink my teeth into her soft flesh, to slip a hand under her slinky skirt, and plunge into her hot pussy because I’m pretty fucking sure she’s not wearing panties.

No bra either.

I want to fuck my fingers into her beneath the dress, I want to tear it to shreds and bite down on her jugular so hard she shrieks. So hard she comes. So fucking hard that no one can be mistaken about just who she belongs to.

I want to turn her and push her into the wall, unzip her dress and fuck her from behind. I want to suck and bite and pull on those luscious tits with the nipples that always push and tease and seem to beg for my mouth.

And I want to sink teeth into the soft smoothness of her ass and send her racing off naked across the grounds so I can chase and tackle her down.

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