Page 46 of Conflicted Lies

“Because you’re always trying to get into my pants when you aren’t working.” I bat my lashes at him.

Biting back a smile, he says, “Correction. I’ve tried getting in your dress once, and it worked.” He winks. “I remember those sweet moans that left your lips and all the barbaric things your body demanded I give you.”

Heat flushes my cheeks. I lift the book up again, trying to block him out so he doesn’t see how flustered he makes me. I adjust my glasses. “Yes, I guess you do.”

“When do you go back to London?” he asks, changing the subject. It’s an obvious indication that he’s following my schedule. He probably knows the answer before I give it to him, so I don’t see any point in hiding it.

“Tonight.”

He lifts his wrist and checks the time. “My car is outside. Do you need a lift?”

“No, I have a driver,” I tell him distractedly, trying to reread the same line in my book. I just can’t focus when this man is so fucking close. I can feel the heat of his breath. Suddenly, his foot nudges mine under the table, and I’m filled with a hot flush. Then his hand finds my knee.

“The drunk one?” he asks innocently.

I should shove his hand away. But I’m salivating at the idea of his callused hand running higher up my leg. My pussy throbs, begging for his touch.

“No,” I answer tightly and try not to focus on his hand running circles over my inner thigh. It turns out that my previous driver actually was drinking every time he drove me to my events. When I mentioned it to my father, he killed him without a second thought. When my father asked me how I knew, I didn’t dare tell him it was because of Braxton. I just mentioned that I could smell alcohol. I’m getting really good at this lying thing. So now I have one of my mother’s drivers. And this one knows not to drink at all while he’s driving me. He doesn’t want to end up like my last driver, that’s for sure.

“Good.” He lifts his other hand, his bicep flexing with the movement. I try my hardest not to notice his muscles but, fuck me, it’s impossible. And I know he’s doing it on purpose.

I’m not sure why he’s concerned if my driver is drinking or not, and I don’t really care to ask him. Yes, he is amazing in bed, and his mouth knows exactly what it’s doing, but that doesn’t mean I want a relationship with him. I have enough common sense to know it would never work between us.

“Why don’t you follow me to my car for a few minutes?” he says, his tone and the way his hand tightens on my thigh a lure. I look up into those provocative blue eyes. “So I can give you a proper send off.”

I swallow hard, my body fully understanding his intention and demanding I go with him. But I notice a child looking in our direction, and I slide his hand off my leg. “We’re not doing that again.”

“Come on, Shortcake, you love how I work your body. Don’t you miss my mouth?”

“Not while it’s yapping,” I grit, trying to override the heat rushing through my veins. Does this man have no shame? We’re in the middle of a restaurant, and anyone could see or hear us.

“What if I’m sucking on your clit and making you whimper my name?”

My pussy is pounding now, and I couldn’t dive back into my book even if I wanted to. My mind circles around all the things he can do to me. “I’m not fucking you” is all I can manage to say. It’s not the best defense, but it’s all I have.

That smile curves devilishly slow. “What if I make it about you? Worship you in the way I know you deserve?”

I scoff. “You think you know my body that well?”

“Yes,” he says without hesitation. “Give me five minutes, and I’ll prove it to you.”

“Five minutes of my time is expensive,” I reply, barely able to keep my voice steady.

“So are my fingers and mouth.” He grins. “Orgasms don’t come cheap. Especially when I know no other man has been able to make you come undone like I do.”

This fucking arrogant prick. I glance toward the car in the parking lot where my driver waits. Farther back is Braxton’s car.

I mean, if it’s only five minutes… What’s the harm, right?

I’m going to kill him soon, anyway, so I might as well make him useful before then.

Right?

CHAPTER24

Braxton

Ithrow a fifty-dollar bill on the table and grab her hand. I pick up the statue and the jacket in the other one. She’s silent as I lead her to the back of the parking lot. It’s not exactly busy at ten in the evening, and the light barely reaches back here, which is precisely why I parked in this spot.

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