Page 146 of Under the Lies

Thrust.

I failed you.

Thrust.

I got you.

Thrust.

Forgive me.

Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.

I got you. I got you. I got you.

He’s everywhere. Marking me, filling me, branding me.

But he’s not the only one. My own nails dig into the back of his neck, pushing his mouth closer, harder into my skin. My own teeth find his freckled shoulders where I bite and lick.

It’s hard and fast and delicious.

I asked him to make me forget, but I want to remember this.

The reverence in his eyes as he’s inside me, never looking away from my face.

How he handles me, like I’m seconds from slipping through his fingers.

I asked him for hard, which he’s giving me, but he’s also given me something else. He makes me feel whole. Cherished.

In the wee hours of morning as the sun is inching across the horizon, I fall with the man who’s stolen my heart and branded my soul.

Hours later I walk out of Noah’s bathroom to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows digging into his thighs, talking on the phone.

He glances up to find me leaning against the doorframe, wearing one of his white dress shirts. My ankles are crossed. He smirks and motions for me to come closer.

With a small smile, I shake my head, content to stay like this. Watching him.

I get to see Noah Kincaid like this. Ruffled and unkempt. His dark blonde hair is tousled from my fingers running through the thick strands, pulling at them. He’s missing his shirt, not that I’m complaining, his chest is toned, and I can see the start of his freckles at the height of his shoulders. Even from here I can see the indents on his chest, on his neck, from where my teeth nipped at his skin.

I wish he hadn’t put on those gray sweatpants earlier, but now, I’m not really complaining. There’s something magical about a man in gray sweatpants. But on Noah? They’re lethal.

God. I have it bad.

“Call me when you get something useful,” he orders into the phone with authority before hanging up. In the same breath, he tosses the phone behind him, turning his full attention to me.

“Like what you see?” he asks, not missing any of my ogling.

“No, you’re far too hideous.”

He chuckles and my toes curl at the low sound. Sensual and knowing. “Bullshit.”

Noah spreads his legs, patting the top of his thigh in invitation.

I hesitate. I want to, but I know if I do, he’ll put his hands on me thus distracting me from all the questions swimming in my head. He’s already distracted me thoroughly this morning by just being shirtless and rumpled.

So, I stay firmly planted where I am, hugging the doorframe between his bedroom and bathroom. “Why was Gabe here earlier?”

“To check on you.”

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