Page 98 of Under the Lies

“I don’t want you to.” Her eyes dip to take in my bare chest. She swallows.

Yes, she does, she can’t stop drinking me in. She’s just hurt from my comment about last night changing nothing.

And it doesn’t. Not my objective, not what she’s here for. The only difference is now I want more. More of her bent forward, me on top of her. I want to push her body to limits no other man can take her.

She’s created this appetite inside me, one only she can curb.

And I know I’ve stirred up the same in her.

I rub my hand down my abs, thumb brushing right above my pants. Sayer follows my movements.

“Well,” I say, withdrawing my hand from my body. “Have a good night, Sayer.”

Before I can turn away, she pushes away from the bar and puts her lips to mine.

I don’t move, waiting for her to take charge.

Almost hesitantly, shyly, she moves her lips against mine. Sweetly at first, but quickly turning sensual. Her hands twist into my hair, her breasts push into my chest as she steps closer into my body. She tastes like tequila and desire.

“Sometimes I really hate you,” she says into my lips. “You make me go crazy.”

“Welcome to my fucking world.” I pick her up by the back of her thighs, holding her as tightly to my chest as physically possible. “My beautiful, sweet siren,” I mumble into her skin before fusing my mouth back to hers.

The kiss isn’t gentle. It’s rough and hungry and full of clashing teeth and a power struggle. Not between us physically, but between her heart and my mind.

She’s tempted me like no one else before. Not because of her looks, even though I do find her stunning. A beautiful girl with a soft heart has never done it for me, but there’s an innocence to her that I have long since lost. It draws me in, how unassuming she is. How much she’s changed from her teenage years but is still inherently Sayer Brooks.

I want to explore her more.

Not just her body.

But her mind.

Just not her heart.

I have no business being in there. No business to go poking around in there. She deserves better than me. But even with that knowledge, I’m not going to stop myself from having her while I can, for however long she lets me.

With her secure in my grip, I walk her up the stairs, kissing her as I do.

It’s not until we reach the top that she pulls away, squirming in my arms. I’m walking us past my bedroom door when she pulls at the end of my hair, wanting me to stop.

“Let’s go in there,” she breathes with impatient need.

“No,” I tell her, continuing farther until we reach her room.

We’re not going in my room. She can’t go in there. It’s the only space in the house, aside from my office, that’s still just mine.

I lead us into her room, tossing her on the bed, and undoing my belt. “Let’s see if we can top last night.”

In a foggy haze, I reach out looking for the warmth I crave only to get empty coldness instead. Popping an eye open, I notice the space in bed next to me is how it is every night.

Empty.

Except I didn’t go to sleep that way, and this isn’t my bed.

Leaning up on my elbow, I reach for my glasses on the table beside me and take note of the room. Clothes and shoes are thrown around haphazardly. That’s all I need to know where I am. Forget the basic, oatmeal colored walls or the nondescript furniture.

I’m in my guest room.