Page 46 of A Secret and a Lie
Every sliver of honesty she fed me tonight wasn’t enough. I want to be privileged with everything there is to know about her. I want more than she’s willing to give.
Her black-coated lashes flutter delicately, and I can tell she’s weighing her options. She’s, of course, free to leave whenever she wishes—in spite of the fact that I’m desperate to tie her to any available surface.
“Stay.” The murmured word is an order, yet a plea.
She’s slipping through my fingers. I want what I can’t have. I’m desperate to be the guy she likes to spend her free time with, the one she wants to play darts and eat dessert for dinner with. The man who’s not the FBI agent planning to snap metal cuffs around her dainty wrists and take her to Quantico.
But that’s not reality. I may never get another chance with her again, not after I’ve spooked her, so I’m not going to waste a single moment until she walks out that door.
When she lifts her hazel gaze to mine, the brown is stark against the green hue of her irises in the glow of the twinkle lights. I don’t fully track my movements until she sucks in a sharp breath the second my hand snakes around her lower back as I tuck her body against mine.
“Dance with me.”
“What?” she protests and attempts to pull away from me again. “I’m not going to dance with you. That’s…ridiculous.”
“Doing the things you want to do is never ridiculous.”
Technically, dancing with her is a ploy to get her to stay, and the first thing that popped into my mind when 3 Doors Down began to croon through the speakers with their hit, “Here Without You.”
The song took me straight back to my bunk in Afghanistan, and suddenly, all I wanted was to hold her, even if it’s only for four minutes. I never listen to this song anymore, blocking it from every playlist, so I don’t know how it snuck onto this one, but now that it’s streaming through the speakers, I have no intention of turning it off.
“Just stay with me a little longer.” I’m not above begging for what I want. For the first time in my life, I’m grateful my grandfather was so adamant that his grandson “would know how to be a gentleman.” Nevertheless, I don’t think a full summer of dance lessons was fucking necessary.
To my surprise, Genevieve doesn’t move away. She relents, relaxing slightly in my hold. I press her to my chest, memorizing the way her body fits against mine. She even wraps her arms around me in return, making my heart pound. The more we sweep around the rooftop, surely looking like ceramic snow globe figurines, the less stiff she becomes.
“I hate this song,” she admits after several moments. “I’ve hated this song since 2002.”
My body flashes hot, and I swallow the lump in my throat as I tighten my hold on her, refusing to let her go.
“I don’t like it either,” I murmur.
Her fingernails curl into my skin through the thin fabric of mydress shirt. She smells so damn good, like Sakura, the flavor of cherry blossoms, with a hint of sugar.
“What are you doing to me, Genevieve?” I whisper, my hand sliding up the heated column of her neck and disappearing into her short blonde hair at the back of her head.
“The same thing you’re doing to me,” she echoes, craning her neck to look up at me.
The strands of her hair glide through my fingers like liquid silk as my other palm glides over her smooth cheek. It’s only now, as we regard each other, that I register that our feet have stopped moving.
With the raw, innate need to claim another piece of her for myself rushing through me, I lean down, unable to resist for another second.
As soon as I press my mouth to hers, her pillowy-soft lips immediately light my soul on fire. She melts in my arms, allowing me to lead, even as her mouth moves with mine like two ballerinas sailing across a stage with fluid grace.
I never thought I’d feel something like thisagain, but as I kiss Gen, I realize I was wrong about my heart having died fourteen years ago. Right now…it’s more alive than ever.
This powerful woman yields to me; her control slipping by the second, especially when she opens for me, allowing my tongue to slip inside, deepening the kiss. If I thought she smelled good, she tastes even better.
Electricity swarms us, static filling the air as we lose ourselves in each other. My grip on her hair tightens on instinct, desire seizing command of my movements. With our bodies melded together like a single piece of clay, she moans into my mouth, and the sound has my cock immediately lengthening behind my slacks.
Her fingers find their way into my hair, her breasts pressed to my chest, and then we’re completely unleashed, charging headfirst into the flames of desire that have been flickering for months. My palm finds the brick wall before her head can slam against it, briefly cushioning her skull before finding her waist.
Our mouths stay fused together like white-hot electrical wires as we devour each other, her hands exploring, clawing, scraping.
Abandoning her mouth, my lips find her throat, and she arches her back, sucking in a sharp breath. Her fingers tug on the short strands of my hair, her other hand clutching my bicep tightly as she wriggles, wedging my leg between hers.
“Ford,” she whimpers. My cock throbs, harder than the wall behind her, aching for her touch.
The skirt of her structured dress inches higher as she begins to writhe against my thigh, and I groan. Her lips find the soft skin of my neck, gently sucking and kissing.
