Page 50 of His Deadly Lies

CARTER

Mia Balestra’s tongue is a thing of perfection.

Even when she presses it to my lips in a slurred and possibly drunk demand for me to open. She’s stronger than I’ve given her credit for, and when I’m caught between her body and the door…it’s no excuse.

No excuse, but I let her kiss me, and my fucking fantasies about her don’t even come close to the way she feels. Soft and hot.

Sweet and insistent and curved in all the right places.

How is a man supposed to say no to someone like her? To this kind of situation?

How does a man keep control?

Answer: I don’t.

I wrap my arms around her tighter and bunch the material of her jumper in my hands, rocking my cock into her like I’d actually feel more than her heat. Fuck. It’s not a long stretch to imagine her naked legs wrapped around me or my tongue delving into all kinds of secret folds. How she’ll taste when I have my mouth in her core.

A desperate moan escapes me, and if I had any decency, I set her down and leave.

I’m a bad man.

I push into her fully and grab her ass, hitching her up higher to bring her core in contact with my cock. The contact is so tantalizing my head spins. I skim my fingers along the plane of her back and the golden skin above the fabric of the jumper. Her muscles flex, her skin shivering beneath my touch, and rather than take the hint that she’s not in her right mind, I tangle my other hand in her hair.

The keening moans in the back of her throat are drugs. The feeling of her against my body has me thinking about the bed, only a few steps away, that precious commodity she’s somehow managed to keep in the modern world: her virginity.

My cock gives an insistent pulse, straining hard against my boxer briefs yet again, and this time to the point where I know I’ll have to handle business soon, or I’ll hurt myself.

Mia isn’t scared.

Her back arches and brings her breasts closer to my face, the sounds from the back of her throat promising ecstasy. The kind I know only I can bring her.

With one hand in her hair to control her movements, I drop the other to the small of her back, her hip, her ass. I grip one plump cheek and squeeze until she gasps in response. I’m lost. I’m so damn lost in her that I’m not sure where I leave off, and Mia begins.

She’s also about to keel over, and the only thing keeping her up is me.

Feeling’s mutual.

Her fingernails drag a path down my neck, underneath my shirt, and along my back. The energy is everything. She kisses me as if she’s never been allowed this kind of freedom with anyone else, and I lap it up, my tongue dragging along the seams of her mouth.

I push her away, my chest heaving. “I told you not to push me,” I groan out.

Mouth tingling and dick throbbing.

Her lips part, red and plump, and she backs up, saying something only semi-coherent under her breath. Her pupils have overtaken the rest of her eyes, and there’s a sheen of sweat across her forehead.

I pull myself back from the edge of those carnal desires but keep my hands on her. Uh-oh.

She’d seemed somewhat with it in the car, and I chalked it all up to exhaustion and liquor, figuring her for a lightweight.

But this isn’t right.

“Hey.” I reach for her, and she stumbles back, losing her balance and stumbling until she knocks against the edge of the mattress. I’m quick to follow after her and tip her chin up so she’s facing me, her breathing heavy. “How much did you drink?” I ask again. “You ordered more when I was with Bash. Didn’t you?”

“No. No. Only one drink.” Her eyes widen. “Carter, I only had one drink. I swear. I swear it.”

Her words are harder and harder to understand.

She blanches and drops over onto her side, eyes fluttering closed. Panic rips through me for a split second before I force myself under control. There’s no time for panic in this trade. Not when a second wasted is the difference between things going right and a shit explosion.

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