Page 92 of Sinful Lies

Good.

My boots? Gone in an instant, tossed aside like they were nothing.

The skirt? Yeah, that hit the floor as I stood, leaving me in nothing but black lace stockings and a matching green thong.

I turned my back to him, arching just enough to give him a full, taunting view of the tattoo crawling across my spine—the one I knew he hated.

“You know, Lazzio,” I muttered, “You’re too predictable. Always trying to be in control. But you wanna know what I think? I think you need to let go. Just a little. I think it’s time someone showed you what it feels like to getreallydirty.”

I bent forward, watching his eyes follow every move, every inch of me, as I hooked my thumbs into one of my stockings.

Slowly, I slid it down, making sure to drag it over my skin.

When that one hit the floor, I did the same with the other.

Straightening up, I met his stare.

Dark eyes, furrowed brows, and the unmistakable heat creeping across his skin—whether he wanted to admit it or not, Angelo Lazzio was turned on.

With a wicked smile, I slid the bra off, tossing it aside carelessly, and it fluttered to the floor. My chest was bare now, nipples hard, practically aching for attention.

His eyes were glued to them, not moving an inch.

“What do you think? Still think I can’tcome?”

I couldn’t suppress the smug smile creeping up as his gaze flickered between my chest and my eyes, caught in the pull of both.

Then he moved closer.

I settled back onto the bed, supporting myself with my arms as I opened my legs to let him in. He didn’t hesitate, following me as I slowly sank onto the covers, my bare back pressing into them, arms resting at my sides.

To my surprise, he leaned down, each of his fists planted beside my head as he hovered above me, his face inches from mine.

“You can come, Miss Whitenhouse,” he murmured, his hot breath making my lips tingle. I couldn’t resist licking them, tasting the wrath in his words. “But if I hear one fucking word from you, I’ll dig a hole in the woods and bury you in it.”

I smiled. “Is that a promise?”

His breath danced across my skin before his lips brushed against my ear.

I felt his hand curl around my throat, his fingers digging into my flesh.

“Sí,diavoletta. And just so you know…” He moved even closer, my tits now pressed against his chest.

For a split second, I was consumed by the heat of him—until I noticed the fabric of his jumper separating our skin. It suddenly pissed me off. I wanted to feel his naked chest pressed to mine.

Honey and dark wood draped in silk sheets.

“I’m not just your fucking boss, Miss Whitenhouse,” he said slowly, his hand tightening around my throat. “I’m a man first—and you’d do well to remember that before you strip in front of me. Next time, I won’t hesitate to take you.”

With that, as if his skin were burning, he released my throat roughly, causing me to bounce on the bed slightly.

He grabbed his coat and stormed out the door before I had a chance to blink, let alone process what the hell had just happened.

Chapter

Twenty-Three

“Don’t wait to be hunted to hide, that was always my motto.”

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