Page 74 of Beautiful Liar

I start to shake my head, but the naked truth slaps me in the face. “I don’t know. Will you?”

A brief pause. “Would you like me to lie to you, Lucky?”

“N–no.”

“Then I’ll tell you I don’t know either.”

There’s a note in his voice. Twisted tendrils of acceptance, regret and elation at a state of being. My breath strangles.

Before I can form a coherent response, or think of a way to defend myself against the dark anticipation, I feel a drift of air, a shift of power from towering to enclosing.

He’s in front of me. Like, right in front of my face.

“But I haven’t forgotten your concerns. I may not succeed, but I’ll do my best not to breach them.”

I suppose I should be grateful for the consideration. But the dark delight and animalistic hunger in his electric voice—how come he still sounds like that when he’s right in front of me?—warns me gratitude might turn out to be a useless commodity.

Another unstoppable tremble races through me. My thoughts disjoint as I wait.

Wait.

But he’s in no hurry. His prey is caught. Hypnotized by his presence alone.

“You’re beautiful.” A heavy, unbiased compliment. A statement of pure ownership.

My breath is gone. I don’t need air. Not right now. Not when he’s so close I feel his body heat. Feel his breath when he speaks.

“I…thank you,” I croak.

“I’m going to touch you, Lucky.”

“Okay,” I whisper.

The pads of two fingers drift over my collarbone along the line where the diamond necklace nestles.

My first flesh-to-flesh connection to Q.

I gasp at the raw, gritty sensation that simple touch yields. He slowly explores one collarbone and then moves, unhurried, to the other.

“I’ve dreamed of touching you like this. Feeling your pulse beat beneath my fingers. I’ve wondered what your skin would feel like.”

“Now…you know,” I whisper.

“Now I know, I want to taste it, lick every inch of it.”

Equal parts desire and fear quiver through me. Desire because I want to be tasted. Licked. Fear because he still sounds like a sexy automaton, a fallen angel trapped in a machine. I can also hear the tiny whirrs of the cameras, can feel the lenses moving over my skin, documenting my every breath.

I’m a whore for his immediate pleasure, and will be a whore for his voyeuristic gratification for all eternity.

Suddenly, I’m grateful for the blindfold. It affords me a protection I know is only in my mind, but I welcome it just the same. Whether he had me wear it for that purpose or another, I’m grateful for it now.

I take my first complete breath since he entered the room. I focus on his fingers as they move back and forth, back and forth on my skin. Each slide sends sizzling heat to my nipples and clit.

“I’ve waited a while for this. So I won’t stop at just tasting and licking. I’m going to devour you. Make you wet and wring you dry. And I’m going to do it many, many times, Lucky.” Power and purpose and unfettered lust pound through his voice.

I have time to take one more breath before Q pounces.

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