Page 4 of Master of Lies

A sharp crack made me jump. A shrill wail followed. A tired-looking woman sitting nearby had lost her patience and smacked her little boy, who’d been snorkling tear-snot the whole time I had been sitting near him.

I looked back at Jed’s hooded, watchful eyes, struggling to breathe. A smile curved his sensual lips. My face was clammy. I was letting him psych me out. Stop it. The guy was neutralized. Shackled behind layers of fucking steel and plexi-glass.

He had no power over me. He was fuckingharmless.

His gaze raked my body, and I shrank back. My intense awareness of him made my skin tingle and flush. My face must have turned cherry red in a hot instant.

Get a grip, Masters.The truth about Shane was in that man’s head, and there were only so many ways to extract it. Beating it out of him would have been my first choice, but that option was out of bounds, probably for the next twenty years or so, minimum. The prison actually protected him from me. Lucky man.

That left the option of seducing him into telling me.

It might just work. He’d be lonely. He had no family to visit him. He’d be bored, restless, starved for female attention, and I would be so undemanding and sweet and welcoming and wonderful to him. I wouldunderstandhim so well.

If it took twenty years, I would still be there every visiting day I could manage, waiting for some crumbs of truth to slip out of him. I would never lose interest. My statute of limitations would never end. I would never give up on Shane.

I lifted my chin. Put my shoulders back, sticking out my tits to showcase the nipple hard-on to best effect, and smiled.

Big deep breath…and showtime.

CHAPTER3

Jed

Sandee clutched the phone. White-knuckled, big-eyed.

I smiled at her, and oh, Jesus. Her pupils dilated, her eyelashes fluttered and her nipples went hard against the low-cut, stretchy shirt.

Whoa.The rush of lust knocked my mind right off its tracks, and my attention arrowed in on the soft, rounded shape of her lips, the up-tilted thrust of her tits. The pulsing throb of my own dick, trapped against my thigh.

I breathed it down. Resolute. I was not doing this chick any favors by being nice to her. I should have a Surgeon General’s warning label tattooed on my forehead.Proximity to this man could be injurious to your continued existence.

Just ask Shane. Hank. Billy. Franco.

Skip the smiling. No nicey-nice for Sandee. It was the kindest thing I could do for her. I took a deep breath. “So,” I said. “Here you are.” Wow. Stellar opening.

Her eyes dropped, her ridiculously long lashes casting a shadow on the curve of her cheek. “Um…ah…yeah.” Lush, glossy lips, quivering.

Her voice was beautiful. Husky and feminine. It affected me pretty much the same way a warm, tender lick of her pink tongue against my cock would affect me.

“You okay?” It popped out before I could stop it. It was a reflex, nothing more. It went against my most primal instinct to be rude to any woman, let alone a girl whose tits were offered up to my eyes like a tray of creampuffs.

“I’m fine.” She licked her full, plump lower lip, making my breath catch and my ass clench.

“You drove four hours from Gholston Flats this morning?” I couldn’t keep the disapproval from my voice. “In the freezing rain and the snow?”

“I came in yesterday,” she assured me. “Stayed at the Dew Drop Inn by the Interstate. Thanks for meeting with me. I wasn’t sure you ever would.”

“You shouldn’t be here.” I made my voice stone hard. “I told you.”

“So…why did you finally agree?”

I shrugged. “I just had to see if the girl in the photos was really you.”

“Did you like the pictures?” Hopeful eyes. Sweet smile. Perfect white teeth. Un-fucking-believable. I blew out a breath, keeping the stream of air slow and even.

Did I like them. Hah. They were etched into his mind. Her in the baby doll nightgown, reclining on the bed. Her in the red lace demi bra and boy shorts. Her in the ruffly shirt, no bra, shirt unbuttoned, artfully draped to hide her nipples, but leaving her belly bare, down to that itty bitty triangle of white lace stretched over—well, I couldn’t call it a bush. More like a swatch. A tantalizing shadow beneath the sheer white.

“I liked them.” My voice rasped. “I’d have to be dead not to like them.”

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