Page 52 of The Devil's Deceit
“Noted.” His fingertips trail over my waist, my ribs, brushing the sides of my breasts. Cupping my cheeks, he tilts my head back. I draw in a breath, preparing myself for him to kiss me. Except all he does is stares deep into my eyes. After a good ten seconds have passed, I blink and tear my gaze away.
“Staring at someone for that long without saying anything is weird.”
“Is it?” He waits until I look at him before continuing. “It’s called intimacy, Grace. Does intimacy scare you?”
“No.” Yes. With him, at least. I don’t trust myself withthis man. It’s like I’m staring down the barrel of a gun, and even though I know the bullet will kill me, I’m encouraging him to shoot. I hate him.Hate him.Yet at the same time, my body is screaming out for his attention, his touch.
“Good, because intimacy with a woman is my favorite thing in the world, and there’s no one right now I want that with more than you.”
His mouth closes over mine, his fingers tangling in my knotted hair. I’m assailed with the smell of him, the feel of his hands on me, the tautness of his chest as my boobs flatten against him. I try not to groan, but I’m a passenger getting pulled along by a riptide.
His phone rings, and he pulls away from me with a curse. Wrenching it out of his pocket, he glances at the screen and curses again.
“I have to go.” Regret leaches across his face as he caresses my cheek with the back of his hand. “What are you doing tonight?”
“I’m not sure.”
“The answer is simple. You’re seeing me. I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty.” Flashing an impish grin, he pivots toward the door.
“Wait,” I call out. “What shall I wear?”
“Doesn’t matter. Whatever it is, you won’t be wearing it for long.” With a casual wave, he leaves the building and gets into his car.
As it drives away, I sag against the wall.
I should feel revulsion, fear, or trepidation at the fact I’ll soon be sleeping with the enemy. Instead, I’m delirious with excitement—and that’s the scariest thing of all.
Chapter Seventeen
GRACE
“Y’know, you’re here so often at the moment, maybe youshouldmove in.” Juliet spritzes me with the hairspray again. “It’d make life easier. No more mad dashes at some ungodly hour, or taxis home when money is tight.”
“Arron would probably burn the house down trying to make eggs.”
“He’s a grown man. He can boil a damn egg.”
“You’d think.”
She rolls her eyes. “You baby that man.”
“I mean, the post is open if you’re applying.” I wink.
Wrinkling her nose, she makes this face like she’s about to puke. “Gracie, I love Arron. I do. But it’s never going to happen.”
Laughing, I push away her hand as she goes to zap me with the can of hairspray again and get up. “It’s every girl’s dream for her bestie to marry her brother.”
“Sorry, babe, but I’ve got my eye on a bigger prize.”
“You mean that guy Donovan?”
“Nah. That didn’t go anywhere. It’s okay, though. Plenty more rich dudes in the sea.”
“Yeah.” I busy myself with tidying up the clothes strewn all over Juliet’s bed, thinking about Christian and how I’m equal parts excited to see him tonight, and appalled that I am. I haven’t told Juliet about my growing feelings, about how confused I am by them, but Juliet and I have always had an almost psychic ability to communicate without words.
“Grace.”
That one word says it all. She sees through me as though my skin is made of tracing paper. I sigh and plunk down on the bed. She sits down beside me, extracting a pair of Elmo socks from my clenched hands.
