Page 93 of Sinful Lies

? Samuel Beckett

Angelo

I checked my hunting rifle, making sure it was loaded before slinging the strap over my shoulder. The deeper we trudged into the snowy forest, the thicker the sludge of mud and snow clung to our boots, leaving a messy trail behind us—like some fucked-up version of Hansel and Gretel.

It was cold. Too fucking cold.

I glanced back to make sure Jade wasn’t turning into an ice sculpture, but she seemed fine. Silent, as promised, wrapped up in a fur-lined coat, thick pants, and chunky winter boots. Winter boots—an actual first.

She wasn’t teetering around in heels, for once.

I shook my head, a bitter laugh threatening.

Maybe I should just leave her out here to freeze. It’d make my life easier, especially after that little stunt she pulled earlier—stripping right in front of me, showing off the most perfect tits I’d ever fucking seen.

The image of her nipples?—

“Cazzo,” I muttered, shoving a branch out of my way harder than necessary.

Snow tumbled from the tree, crashing to the ground like the forest itself was mocking me.

My jaw tightened as I moved forward, the cold gnawing at my skin with every step.

Another branch snapped under my grip—this one done with intention.

Greg and I had split up for the hunt—him and Harper off one direction, while I was stuck with Miss Little Nudist tagging behind.

I knew exactly where this was headed. Greg thought it was a test of who was the better hunter, but he didn’t fucking get it—I wasn’t out here to hunt animals.

Suddenly, a low, deep grunt split the air, freezing every muscle in my body.

Jade bumped into my back, stumbling slightly.

“Ouch!” she hissed.

“Shh,” I whispered, my hand shooting up to silence her.

I dropped to the ground, grabbing her arm and dragging us both behind a thick wall of branches.

Our bodies collided, the heat of her so close it almost shattered my focus.

Every muscle in my body fucking trembled, like it always had when she was near—when her touch brushed against me, even just for a second. I couldn’t fucking stop it. I couldn’t control how she twisted me up, how her mere presence undid everything in me.

I pressed a finger to my lips, my eyes darting through the trees.

That sound wasn’t the wind.

We weren’t alone.

Then, a rifle crack—three quick shots that echoed through the woods, too fucking close.

I clenched my jaw, my brows pulling into a deep scowl.

“Lazzio—”

“Shut the fuck up,” I muttered, my grip tightening on the rifle, eyes slicing through the trees.

The silence pressed in around us, heavy, suffocating, broken only by our unsteady breathing. She edged closer, her body brushing against mine, her breath warm against my neck as she tried to figure out what had my attention.

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