Page 53 of Under the Lies

“What do you think their secrets are, Sayer?” His hands slip under my coat, slowly stripping it off.

“Do you think one of them was married?” My coat drops to the floor with a soft thud. “And that’s why they met at night? Why they’re cloaked in red?” His fingers trace down my spine, flirting with the zipper of my dress. “Are they the sinners of their time?”

“Why are you asking me this?” I whisper to the painting.

“Because I want to see you let go, to see what you’d be if you give into the sins you are trying to fight.” He kisses my neck, hard and quick. So quick I want it back. “Sin with me, Sayer.”

My shallow breathing is the only answer I can muster. I lean into him though, and Noah holds me tight. “If I reach under your skirt, I’d feel how wet you’d be, wouldn’t I, Sayer?”

The lights go out, bathing us in darkness once more.

I tremble under his fingers as they brush along my thigh, wishing he’d move them over, to add some friction to the need building between my legs.

Just when I think Noah’s going to do something, his hands leave my thighs.

Nooo. Put them back. Put them back. Put them back.

“What do you feel?”

“What?” My mind is too hazy to focus on anything other than where I want his hands.

“What do you feel?” he asks again.

“Like I want you to touch me,” I dare to say aloud.

“Where?” he questions, drawing his fingers in lazy strokes on my arm. “Here?”

I shake my head. No, not there. “Lower.”

He moves his hand to my waist. “How about here?”

Again, I shake my head, whispering the same command as before. Lower.

Noah’s hands finally reach the place I wish he had started at, tracing my entrance through my panties, making a satisfied noise when he feels how soaked the lace fabric is. “What about now?”

I nod, unable to think of anything other than his touch. A disappointed noise slips out when he withdraws his fingers instead.

“What about the contract?” There’s no missing the mocking quality of his voice.

I might wake up regretting this, but for now…it feels right. “Screw the contract—”

With a growl he spins me around, mouth attacking mine as he grips my thighs. Picking me up, he pushes me against the painting. The frame digs into my spine and I don’t care. Not when Noah’s mouth captures mine.

A man like Noah doesn’t kiss. He claims.

And claim me he does.

Never the gentleman, his lips are demanding and tongue greedy as he makes himself felt across every inch of my body.

I’ve never been kissed this way where I’m robbed of my senses and replacing it with sensation. Nothing exists outside of this, outside of Noah as his tongue meets mine, as his teeth nip my bottom lip. He’s the poison in my veins. Destroying me with every touch.

And I crave every moment of it.

Commanding and rough, he pushes up the skirt of my dress. A rumbling in his throat as his finger pushes my panties aside, teasing my entrance.

“So wet,” he growls with approval. “You’re practically dripping.”

He pushes his finger in and I gasp, grabbing onto his shoulder as my walls clench around him as he fills me down to his knuckle.

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