Page 65 of Wicked Lies

“Fuck.” He groaned, leaning one hand on the counter for support as his hips pounded harder and his fingers moved faster. “Fuckin’ perfect.”

Skin slapped against skin, and Cheryl hoped the counter was bolted to the wall. She bucked back again, and the pressure built as his fabulous fingers worked her until she couldn’t do anything but give in to the lust, the love, and what would be their last time together.

“Who’s making you feel good, baby?” Nick thrust into her hard and stopped.

“Mmmm.” Words and complete sentences were not an option.

“Answer me,” he demanded.

“Damn it.” She wiggled her ass against him. “Don’t stop.”

“Then answer me,” he repeated. “Who do you belong to?”

If he didn’t move soon, she would go crazy.

“You,” she panted. “Only you.”

Her words unleashed a magic spell. She shouted his name and repeated the murmured litany seconds before she flew apart—no big build-up, just a hot and wild climax, leaving her shaking and clenching.

Nick’s back stiffened as his wet heat shot into her. He collapsed against her, bracing his hands on the counter, his warm breath against her neck. They lay there for a few minutes, their bodies slick and panting. She pushed against the counter, and Nick slowly lifted with her, his free hand snaking around her waist, pulling her around.

He traced his finger over Cheryl’s jaw and down her neck with a shaky hand.

“You giving me this . . . letting me be real with you.”

She knew by “this” he meant her.

“I wouldn’t want you any other way.” She stroked his still-swollen jaw.

“Whatever happens, I’ll always put you first and keep you safe.”

Cheryl desperately wanted to return the favor, but how could she choose between life and death?

He guided her back to the bedroom where they collapsed on the oversized bed with the sheet draped over his hips. Nick’s tanned arm was flung behind his head, tightening the smooth skin of his ripped abs and narrow waist.

Nick threw his attitude around in a harsh, tough-guy way, yet his sensitivity and insight floored her. His soul clashed with contradiction while his eyes were filled with love. Cheryl longed to tell him how she loved him and never meant to hurt or blow his life apart.

She snuggled into his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her as if protecting her from the shadowy shreds of life, opening them up and making them vulnerable.

“Always, baby,” she murmured against his chest.

She could have spent the rest of the night in his arms, pretending there were no consequences or repercussions for decisions she had to make, but Nick had other plans. He wanted to take her to the club and show her off to his friends, but they’d never make it.

* * *

Just before midnight,the car Carlos sent for them crept along Washington Avenue as a steady stream of people spilled out onto the street. Cheryl shifted in the leather seat with every agonizing minute. The bag of coke wedged inside her bustier clung to the skin of her breast. She discreetly adjusted her top palming the baggie.

“I want you to know how much you mean to me.” He leaned in and kissed her softly on the cheek. “I appreciate you telling me the truth about what happened in New York.”

“Of course, I feel the same way.” Her throat tightened with the pressure of an impossible decision. Save his life or send him to prison.

He deepened the kiss, and her hand slid to his pants pocket.

“I don’t trust easily, and even though we got off to a rocky start, I get why you held back. I want you to know that from now on nothing or no one is gonna hurt you.”

She lowered her head as a single tear crept down her cheek.

He nudged her chin with his finger. “Hey, I hope those are happy tears 'cause I got a good feeling about us.”

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