Page 10 of The Truths that Deceive

AfterI’ve tackled her to the ground.

I press the gun firmly against her, but this time she doesn’t even twitch.

The safety’s on, but I have to admire her “fuck you” attitude that could raise boners from the dead.

So I put the weapon away and I slide my hand up her inner thigh.

She gasps.

“Don’t get your panties in a knot,” I murmur. “Just checking for a weapon.”

“I don’t have one there, you jerkoff.”

Slipping my fingers to her outer thigh, I shift up to her hip and then low at the top of her panties. Cotton from the feel.

“You, Miss Price, would be shocked at the places women hide weapons.”

“Unless you’re planning on giving me a pelvic exam, you can trust I’m not carrying.” Her snarl’s ruined by the breathy edge to it.

And now she’s filled my mind with images ofsinking into her, seeing if she’s as furnace hot as she seems. Testing the tightness of her, the stretch of her around my cock as I thrust into her.

I want to taste her, bury my nose and tongue in her. Suck on her clit. I want to bite and taunt until she’s an utter mess of pleading offerings.

Fuck.

Slowly, I move to her other hip, trailing my fingers over her ass as I do so. If I was still in the CIA, I’d be fired for this. But I’m not and I don’t give a fuck. She’s warm, and don’t think I didn’t notice how she’s pushed her ass out a little, widened her stance.

It’s the kind of offering that’s as loud as a moan of need.

Calista Price likes it. She’d never admit it in court or to my face, but the fucking little minx, who’s young enough to be my daughter, likes it.

Her response might not even register to herself, but I’m tuned in to her and I let my fingers slide up her inner thigh, up high toward the heat that radiates, the promise of that wet, tight cunt opening for me, beckoning me…

I suck in a breath as she bites off a moan. My fingers pause at the top of her thigh and my knuckles brush the underside of her panties. Her wet fucking panties.

My cock strains against my pants.

“See? I’m not carrying a weapon,” she whispers.

“I’m still checking.”

Knowing that what I’m doing is so wrong barely registers as my hands slide up higher, fingertips dancing a slow waltz over the hot, wet cotton. Back and forth.

She whimpers, pushing into me, and I’m ready to peel off her panties and slip my fingers into her cunt when reality bitch-slaps me.

“Dirty, but no weapons.” I pause. “Or if there are, you’veshoved them so deep you won’t be able to get them back before I can cause you harm.” I pause a second time. Waiting a beat. “Want to try?”

“You perverted dick.” This time she yanks her arms free and spins out from me.

She slams herself against the wall, much harder than when I did it. And I take a step toward her.

We’re so close, face-to-face, her tits almost brushing my chest as they heave unevenly. I let her go but she doesn’t try and run. “This perverted dick is here to make sure you get back to the States and into the right hands.”

“Or the wrong ones.” She puts her hands on my chest, and I fucking swear my skin sizzles at her touch.

I’m on edge for so many fucking reasons right now, but being jet-lagged and sleep-deprived pales in comparison to the effect this girl has on me.

Goddammit, this isn’t my job.

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