Page 110 of Sinful Lies

She moaned louder, her body writhing against mine like she couldn’t get close enough.

I tried to find the zipper of her dress, desperate to strip it off, but she shoved me away.

My breath was ragged, chest heaving.

I looked at her, confused, and she smiled—an evil fucking grin that made me want to kiss it right off her face.

“Let’s play a game.”

What?

“Let me fuck you first,” I muttered, stepping forward, but she side-stepped me, an amused glint in her eyes.

Looked like she was the one playing hard to get now.

“Two truths and a lie.”

She walked toward my chair, her hands caressing the table. Each movement was measured, sensual.

When she finally reached the chair, she sat on it with effortless elegance, crossing her legs with a flick of her ankle.

She looked like an evil queen, waiting for her subject to kneel before her.

And for a second, I almost fucking did.

“If you can spot the lie, I’ll let you fuck me right here, right now,” she said, her voice low, almost playful. Yet her eyes were darker than the night itself. “But if you don’t…” She tilted her head, her gaze sharpening. “You’ll tell me what happened during those fourteen days you were kidnapped when you were nine.”

Every muscle in my body tensed, a knot twisting deep in my gut.

She was playing a dangerous game, and the stakes—fuck, the stakes were higher than I’d expected.

My instinct screamed to take her, right then, right there. To fuck her, and make her regret ever starting this twisted game. The thought of punishing her, making her feel every ounce of my fury, was too good to ignore.

I could already see her squirming beneath me, clinging to whatever power she thought she had, only for it to shatter under me.

“Shoot.”

Her eyes flickered in surprise, like she hadn’t expected me to just play along.

“Okay.” Her finger brushed her chin, her gaze heavy with mischief, like she was plotting something twisted. “Well… I’m fluent in Italian, I’ve studied a dozen ways to poison your coffee, but to my damn luck, Grace is the only one allowed to bring it to you… and…”

She stood up and walked toward me, giving methatlook.

The kind that made my chest tighten and blood burn.

She closed the distance between us.

Her finger traced the edge of my vest before pressing her hand against my chest, right over my heart.

“And last but not least,” she whispered darkly, “I’ve already touched myself thinking about you.”

I let out a rough chuckle, my hand tightening on her wrist as I pulled her closer.

“Is that so, Miss Whitenhouse?”

Her finger traced my jaw. “It’s for you to figure out, buddy.”

I released her wrist, my other arm tightening around her waist as I lifted her with ease. Carrying her toward the big oval table, I set her down on the edge, her legs dangling freely.

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