Deadly Lies (Deadly #3)(32)
Author: Cynthia Eden

“I’m afraid of the way you make me feel.” Her words came again. In the dark, his Samantha was being honest. A surprise. But, no, maybe she’d always been honest in the dark. Honest when their bodies touched and the need exploded.

The real her?

“I know I shouldn’t,” she said, her voice husky and seeming to stroke right over his cock, “but I still want you.” Samantha rose a bit, turning on her side, and her breath blew over his cheek.

And he wanted her. If she didn’t pull back…

No more warnings.

“It’s wrong,” she told him softly, her voice sin in the dark. “The case, us. But… but I need to be with you one more time.”

He grabbed her and pulled her toward him. Her skin slid against his, and he wanted more. He’d have more.

“You don’t trust me,” she whispered, and her lips were less than an inch away.

And you don’t trust me. But he didn’t say that. No need. They both knew it.

“You don’t—”

Max kissed her. He tangled his fingers in her hair, pulled her head down, and pressed his lips to hers. She moaned into his mouth and arched toward him. Still wearing that damn dress when he wanted to feel her bare skin.

His hands snaked down her body. No preliminaries. No caresses. This was sex. Wild. Raw. Pleasure and climax, that’s what he’d take.

She straddled him, placing one soft thigh on either side of his legs. The dress pooled around them. He caught the fabric and shoved it up to her hips. One tug and he ripped her panties away.

Her mouth broke from his as she gasped.

Condom. Christ, he needed the—

Hot, creamy flesh brushed against his cock. Ready for him, just as he was ready for her. No, he was damn near exploding for her. His hand shot out and fumbled with the night stand. He hit the lamp switch, and light spilled onto the bed. He’d stashed his wallet in the nightstand drawer earlier. One condom left. One.

She leaned over him and opened the drawer. “Got it.” So soft. Her fingers tore open the wrapper. She took out the condom. She touched him, and he shuddered. No, no, too close. When her hands were on him…

He rolled, pushing her back against the bed, leaving her legs spread, and the dress bunched at her waist. Just sex.

That was all it had ever been.

The condom covered him. Wanted flesh to flesh. Wanted that hot core, squeezing around me, nothing separating us.

His erection pushed against the entrance of her sex. She reached out to touch him again, but he caught her hands and pushed them back against the mattress.

Just sex.

Her gaze seemed to burn right through him.

Fuck, lost. One look and he was… Max kissed her. The kiss should have been hard and angry, but it was more. Desperate. Like he was starving for her, and maybe he was. Starving, addicted, so hungry for her.

His c**k thrust deep. She made that moan in the back of her throat, the moan that made him crazy, and he thrust faster, stronger, and he kissed his way down her neck. Soft skin. So soft. He bit her flesh even as he thrust balls-deep.

She bucked beneath him, then whispered, “Harder.”

His c**k stretched even more, and he gave the woman what she wanted.

Her hands were free. She’d pulled them from his grasp, and now her fingers were on him. Her nails dug into his shoulders.

He wanted her br**sts. Wanted her ni**les in his mouth.

She pushed against him, angled up, then swiped that small pink tongue over his nipple.

He groaned. And she laughed. Laughed. Her head tilted back, and she stared up at him. No fear in her gaze, just blind need.

A killer. She knew what he was, but she gazed at him and seemed to see just a man.

Faster, deeper. The bed squeaked beneath them, and he didn’t give a shit who heard. The climax bore down on him, but he didn’t want the pleasure yet. He didn’t want to stop. Her delicate inner muscles squeezed so tight. Too good. Don’t end.

His thumb pressed over her clit. She had to enjoy it. Had to need the sex as much as he did. More. He caressed her and felt her sex tighten even more around him as he drove into her.

She came, and he saw the pleasure wash over her face and darken her eyes.

Just sex. Just—

“Samantha!” He fought the release. Longer. More. Her sex contracted around him in a sweet ripple that had his body tightening. So close. He could feel her pleasure. Feel her. Inside, out. Everywhere, her.

He exploded inside her, the release a red-hot firestorm of pleasure that heated his blood and burned its way through his body.

Dammit, more. More.

So much more than he’d bargained for.

“Some people can’t follow simple f**king instructions.” He stared down at the bound man, and rage pumped through him. “I mean, really, how hard is it to understand?”

The guy jerked at his ropes and grunted something behind the duct tape.

“Guess you’re gonna get a real piss-poor deal on this one.” He gave a long sigh and let his fingers tighten around the hilt of the knife he held. “And just so you know… it’s gonna hurt.”

Moving fast, he ripped off the blindfold. Wide, desperate eyes stared back at him, and the guy shook his head, fast, over and over.

But he just shrugged as he stared down at the helpless bastard. “Blame the family, man. They’re the ones who are doing this to you. They are the ones who turned their backs on you.”

More muffled grunts came from behind the gray line of duct tape. He raised the knife and stepped closer to his prey. He caught a flicker of movement behind him and knew that she’d come to watch. Just like before.

He liked it when she watched him work.

The blade traced down the guy’s face. A slow, careful trek. That bastard Briar had pissed him off, but this one? He almost… liked him.

But he’d still slice the prick apart. “They should have just paid.” He shrugged. Not my fault. “I showed everyone what happens when you don’t pay.” They knew the rules.

He’d left his message for the world to see. But still, they tried to screw him. Thought that they could outmaneuver him.

A last sigh slipped from his lips. “You should have been worth more.”

Sam didn’t wake screaming that night, but only because she didn’t sleep. She lay in bed next to Max, her heart still thudding too fast, his arm across her stomach, and she wondered what she was doing.

Not really a new question.

She should move. Get up. Not feel so comfortable in bed with him. Not feel like his body fit against hers.

The darkness surrounded them. She didn’t have to worry about her emotions flashing on her face. Sometimes it was so hard to hide what she felt. How many times had her mother told her, “I know what you’re thinking, Samantha Jane! I can see it… right there on your face.” Acting had never been her gift, but she was trying, as hard as she could.