Page 34 of Conflicted Lies

His lips quirk up, and he watches me with those bright blue eyes as if he were waiting for me to run. But I don’t intend to run. He may have threatened to drag me here, but I came willingly.

Flashbacks from that night when we were together roll through my head, and I wonder how much we’ve both changed since then.

I push away the thoughts as I take in the images that cover the majority of the wall. It’s a masterpiece, really. The red thread connects crime scene photos of different bodies. Bodies I know well. I’ve sculpted the majority of them. My fingers trail over the string, leading to the one that brings my face into the equation.

“Surely, you could’ve found a better picture?” I chide.

He comes up behind me, leaning against the table. It’s common sense not to let me see this, especially because of my family. I don’t know what game he’s playing, but I very much like it. The photo he has is one taken from my Instagram account.

“The only image I’ll replace it with is one of you on your knees, naked and sucking my cock.”

A string of desire immediately tightens down my spine, and my skin feels taut over my muscles. “What would your colleagues think?”

“I don’t see anyone else in this room.”

I look over my shoulder suggestively. “Just photos of dead bodies?”

He points the mouth of the bottle at me. “I have a feeling you don’t mind.”

I try to hide the smirk as I turn back to study it. I’m in awe. The way it inspires me is a little worrisome. We both have our forms of art, but the thing that draws us together is our interest in bodies. Morbid as it may be, I think the detective and I are more similar than I first thought.

Maybe I’m deluding myself.

But doesn’t that make it all a little bit more fun? Like at any moment, I might slip and fall to my death from this tightrope I’m balancing on.

I reach for the clip that’s in my hair and remove it, shaking my head so the locks cascade down my back. I take in a long breath. We’re really going to do this.

“Shortcake.”

I look over my shoulder to find his intense gaze locked on me. I’m not sure why I don’t find it intimidating. Instead, I find it alluring. I may be what he considers shy in many aspects of life. If I’m being frank, I’m just socially awkward. But when it comes to my body and sex, I’ve never felt shamed or timid. I guess part of that is due to the world I was brought up in. The men in my life treat their wives like queens.

Braxton was the only man who made me feel like that during sex, so it’s no surprise I’ve returned. But having more experience now, I wonder if it’ll be the same. What if it’s not? What if it’s disappointing?

I briefly look over my shoulder where he’s removing his holster and gun, placing it on the table casually as if announcing the danger between us.

Well, you’re going to kill him anyway, so why does it matter?

“Braxton. A little help with the dress?” I move my hair to the side and point to the clip that’s near my neck. I hear him slide the bottle across the counter before his footsteps come to a stop behind me. He’s so close that the heat of his body caresses me with invisible hands. I suck in a breath as his fingers brush the back of my neck before he undoes the dress.

The movement is slow, and the dress slides down my body like water until it catches on my hips. He grips my waist tightly. “How I’ve missed this fucking body,” he breaths against my ear, molding his front to my back. I can feel his cock through his pants, pressing against the small of my back. “How I miss handling you and giving in to your every demand,” he growls before brutally tugging at the dress so it falls to the floor, exposing my naked body, clad only in a pair of heels.

“Shortcake, turn around.”

I look over my shoulder and up through thick eyelashes. Those crystal-blue eyes consume me as he exhales impatiently. He isn’t happy because I’m not facing him.

“Turn around,” he says again, and this time I do as he demands. Ever so slowly, I turn. His gaze takes all of me in from bottom to top as it drags over each part of me until his eyes meet mine. “So innocent.” He whispers the words as his hand raises to my neck, and his fingers drag lightly down my skin.

“Is that what you get off on, innocent-looking girls?” I ask.

He smirks. “No, I usually like them a little dirtier, but you’ll do.” He leans in and adds, “And I prefer women now.” I was only eighteen when we met.

I reach out and grab his cock, making a point that I’m not the sweet little girl he thinks I am. His eyes widen just a little, and that’s the only hint of surprise I get from him.

“Shortcake, this is going to be fun.”

“Let’s see if you can make me come before you start throwing out promises,” I purr, removing my hand from his cock and then stepping back to look at him the same way he did me. “Now, strip.”

CHAPTER19

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