Page 58 of The Lies of Bryn van Doren

Peeking at him from beneath her lashes, she steps even closer, until there are mere inches separating her chest from his. He can smell the musk of her sweat as it mingles with the remnants of her perfume, and he can’t resist. With his hands still buried in his pockets, he leans down and presses his lips to hers. The song starts over again, and she leans into the kiss. He traces the seam of her mouth open with his tongue, and she steps closer. In the same moment she sneaks her tongue out to meet his, she delicately slips her fingers under the lapels of his suit jacket. He tilts his head, opening his mouth wider, kissing her deeper, longing to gulp from her well.

His fists clench at the sound of her soft moan, but he can’t touch her. If he does, he won’t be able to stop. So, he drinks. He drinks from her like the parched man he is. When she presses up onto her tiptoes, circling her arms around his neck, he knows he needs to stop. When he lifts his head abruptly, her arms around his neck tighten, as if he’s thrown her off balance simply by severing their connection. Looking down at her, another rush of blood heads straight for his groin at the sight of her pink, swollen lips.

The song starts over a third time.

“I’ve got to go,” he mutters, his gaze still aimed at her mouth.

“Oh,” Bryn replies on a sigh.

She unlocks her arms and takes a step back. There’s something in the act accompanied by the sound of her voice that causes him to extract a hand from his pocket. He wraps an arm around her waist, pressing her against him. Bryn gasps, her hands flying up to grip his lapels a second time, and his eyes dance around her face. He studies her, realizing that when she’s in his arms, the control he saw in her while she was dancing, it’s not as prominent. He curses under his breath, aroused by the idea he can make her lose control—and now, he understands just how much control she’s capable of.

“I’ll be here by nine. I expect you here until morning. Understood?”

She nods her head without hesitation, and he allows his hand to slide down over her backside. He lingers only a second, then forces himself to pull away from her.

In an attempt to center himself, he breathes deeply as he takes his leave. For the duration of his elevator ride, he tries to think on things that will ease his state of arousal. As he makes his way through the lobby, he realizes he didn’t take in a single detail of the fully furnished loft.

Jessica leans proppedup against one of the large windows on the far side of the apartment, her eyes taking in the view of the city street below. She can hear the sounds of traffic—honking horns, bus engines, even a subway train in the distance—the night’s soundtrack seeping through the glass behind which she stands. She pulls her short, silk robe around her tighter, wondering what time it is and how long she’s been waiting, but not at all interested in checking the time. If she does, it’ll only make her anxious. It’ll only make her think of the kiss Khalohn planted on her lips a few hours ago.

That kiss was a reminder.

That kiss was a promise.

When he slipped his tongue into her mouth, she was able to fully admit how much she’s missed his touch. She longs for it. Staring out the window, looking past her reflection, she wonders in an effort not to count down the minutes. Filling the hours of the evening has been a challenge, her anticipation making every activity feel menial.

After Khalohn left, she was in too much of a daze to find the focus to keep dancing. She couldn’t be sure how long he had watched her. She didn’t ask. But the thought of him standing there, staring, not saying a word to interrupt her—the memory makes her belly tingle even still. Unintentionally, he’d stumbled upon somethingreal. People watching her dance never makes Jessica uncomfortable or embarrassed, and this instance wasn’t an exception. Except, it wasn’t simply because he was watching her do something she loved, but because she wanted him to have that. Somethingreal.

I know his name. I know his age and how he makes his money. They’re just pieces of him—but he should have a piece of me, too. It’s only fair.

Jessica blows out a sigh, reaching up to tuck a bit of hair behind her ears. Earlier, after she came unstuck from where Khalohn left her, after she unpacked her things, left the apartment to walk down to the market, and stopped at a deli to pick up something for dinner, she came back to 601 to prepare for her night. She showered, then ate standing in the kitchen, wrapped in only a towel at the island. While she applied her makeup, she spoke with her mother on the phone, and then she took the time to blow her hair dry before she curled it. That done, she lathered her skin in lotion and spritzed on her favorite perfume.

Wearing a fitted, dusty rose, silk nightie underneath her robe, her face done up and her hair falling down her back, she’s ready, and she’s waiting. In spite of her acceptance of the situation, of their arrangement, the thought of being with Khalohn—of having him between her thighs for a second night—it ignites an excitement that makes her feel slutty. She can’t help it. He’sthatgood.

When she hears him insert the key into the lock, she sucks in a breath and turns slightly from the window. Her heart beats faster, that familiar feeling associated with his arrival sending a shot of desire from her belly down to her core. She can’t see him from where she stands as he enters the apartment, but she listens as he does what he’s always done.

He locks them inside, discarding his key on the side table. As his movements become silent, she imagines him stripping out of his suit jacket and hanging it on the coat rack. Finally, the heel of his shoes clicks against the hardwood floor, his steps bringing him through the entryway and into the loft space. Her breath catches in her throat at the sight of him. It doesn’t matter that she saw him a few hours ago. As her gaze settles on his perfectly blue eyes, she can barely catch her breath. The promise of his touch is imminent.

Khalohn hesitates a moment at the sight of her. He takes her in, noting the changes she’s made since he stopped by earlier that afternoon. Her hair falls in big, soft curls down her chest and back, the way he likes it best. Her big, brown eyes are darkened with makeup, and her casual attire is gone, replaced by a robe he intends to remove as soon as possible.

The thought of touching her reminds him his hands are full. Reluctantly, he takes his eyes away from her as he makes his way toward the kitchen. Raising the bottle in his left hand and setting it on the island, he says, “I don’t know your preference, but this is merlot.” Without waiting for her reply, he takes the paper sack in his right hand and announces, “I brought a charcuterie board as well, in case we get hungry.” He opens the fridge to stow the meat, cheese, and olive filled board, noticing she, too, purchased a few things stowed in the ice box.

As if she notices his observation, she murmurs, “I got stuff for breakfast.”

“Good,” he replies, turning to face her once more. “Moving forward, I’ll arrange for someone else to keep the fridge stocked.”

Something about their exchange gives him pause. Khalohn leans his backside against the counter beside the fridge, slipping his hands into his pant pockets as he stares at Bryn. It’s been a long time since he’s so much as thought about sharing a meal or even a drink with a woman he intends to take to bed. While it makes sense that their arrangement would lead to such a reality, it’s an aspect around which he’s just now wrapping his head. When Bryn slowly starts to cross the room, her eyes pinned to his, anticipation causes his penis to stiffen, and it’s enough to remind himwhyhe’s here.

It’s her.

It’s all her.

When she’s within reaching distance, he widens the space between his legs and takes hold of her waist, pulling her closer. Without a word, he loosens the tie of her silk robe, allowing the belt to fall to her sides as the flaps open to reveal her short, pink nightgown. The fabric clings to her breasts, molding her narrow waist and the slight flare of her hips. Readjusting his grip around her waist, so his hand is now inside the robe, he uses his other hand to shape her body—skimming his fingers up her stomach and around her ribs, until his thumb is grazing the underside of her breast. He watches as her nipples harden, and his erection presses against the seam of his pants.

Hesitantly, Jessica reaches for his tie, keeping her eyes on his face in order to assess how she’s doing. His gaze collides with hers as she loosens the accessory and slips it off, allowing it to fall to the floor. As she begins to unbutton his shirt, he sweeps his thumb over her pebbled nipple, and her stomach dips, taking her breath with it. She works her fingers faster, her longing to touch him making her brave.

With his shirt undone and pulled free from his slacks, his hands slide down and around her rear, pulling her flush against him. She gasps in the same instant he closes his mouth around hers, and the moan that crawls up her throat won’t be silenced. She returns his kiss, smoothing her hands up his hard abs and over his solid pectorals, covered in a thin layer of fine chest hair. His grip around her intensifies, and the feel of his hard length pressing against her hip causes a rush of desire to pool between her legs.

They’ve barely exchanged two sentences with one another since he walked through the door, but Jessica doesn’t care. At the mercy of his hands, she wants only one thing.More.

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