Crown of Lies

Page 47

The moment I was trapped, he put his full weight on me, grabbed my leg, and hoisted it over his hip.

I gasped as he rocked his erection again, pressing directly where his hand had been only seconds before. “Oh—”

“That’s one word.” His face flashed with raven desire. “Say a few more. Agree to play with me.”

My head wanted to roll back and break away as his mouth fastened against my throat—kissing, biting, sucking. I wanted no more thoughts, no more dos and don’ts. No more reasons why this was wrong and I needed to end it before I forgot everything.

My hands automatically flew to his hair, yanking on the softness, twining my fingers through his thick, healthy strands. The exquisite feel of him jerked me from the moment. For a second, I’d expected dreadlocked curls and chocolate. Of soft beards and urgent moonlight.

My body swelled but my heart shriveled.

Mr. Everett was not Nameless. Yet he was the second man to ever kiss and touch me in such a way—an accolade I didn’t know if he deserved.

“Wait—I don’t know what you want.”

He chuckled into my neck. “I thought it was fucking obvious.” He thrust up, his shoes squeaking a little on the hardwood floor as he slammed me into the wall with his pressure. “I want to fuck you, Elle.”

My insides puddled at the crudeness. My ears rang for more even while my lips curled in disgust.

“I want to take you, own you, control you.” His voice bordered on feral. “I’m not going to lie. I could say I wanted to date and pretend to fall for you. But I won’t.”

Conversation helped remind me I was human not an animal. I latched onto words. “So...you just want sex?”

“What I want is to kiss you.” His head came up, his lips glistening from sucking my throat. “Let me do that, then decide on the rest.”

He hypnotized me. He corrupted me.

I breathed fast.

He saw a split-second answer—an answer I wished I could retract—and his mouth descended on mine.

His lips were soft but commanding, tearing through my chastity, spearing his tongue past my teeth.

I moaned as he took a kiss and turned it into something else. He switched it into water and fire and heat and chill. He hoisted me up the wall until the floor no longer existed, just air. Holding me up with his hips jammed against mine, he seared our bodies together.

And then, it was over.

Sharp, sweet, sudden...entirely soul-destroying.

“Say yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes to letting me have you.” His voice blistered. “Say yes and you’re mine and whatever comes next is my choice, not yours. You’ll answer to me. I’ll do whatever the hell I want. Sometimes, you’ll hate me. Other times, you’ll be grateful for my interference. Most of the time, you’ll probably want to kill me.”

He kissed me again. “But I can promise you if you say yes, fuck I’ll make you feel good. I’ll give you what you’ve been looking for. I’ll make you free.”

The stream of eloquence matched his hard-edged charm. He was pretty. Too pretty. So pretty it masked the ugliness hidden inside. It made me forget that there were more things to seek than just beauty—deeper things. Things he didn’t possess.

In that hallway, in his arms, I didn’t care.

I hated that I didn’t care.

But that was the truth.

He made me shallow.

“Elle?” A voice interrupted our rapid breathing and aching bodies.

Instantly, Mr. Everett let me fall to my heels, backing away and subtly arranging his blazer over the obvious erection in his slacks. His eyes never left mine, full of promises and menacing intimidation.

I gulped, looking over his shoulder at the man who’d interrupted whatever the hell had happened.

Greg.

Smoothing my hair, I stepped forward.

Mr. Everett fell into rhythm with me, crossing his arms like a silent protector and aggressor all in one.

Greg glowered at him. “Who the hell are you?”

Mr. Everett glanced at me with a wicked smirk. That smirk held every sentence he’d uttered. Every command and description. He wanted me. I wanted him. He didn’t like me. I didn’t like him.

Hatred turned to frenzy.

A perfect drug for danger.

Everett’s lips moved; his voice worse than the champagne with intoxication. “Who am I, Elle?”

My blood quivered to finish what he’d started. My brain short-circuited to bypass the fact I wanted him while hating him. If he could knock me so off balance with just a kiss, what could he do to me in bed?

He’d made me selfish as well as shallow.

But I can’t sleep with him.

Could I?

I didn’t like him. I didn’t trust him. I definitely didn’t believe I could ever fall for him.

So what?

You’re old enough to have sex with no strings.

He’s proven to have a heart somewhere. He has a son.

He. Has. A. Son.

He could have a wife and baggage and so many other mysteries I couldn’t hope to solve. Carnal greed could never trump such laws.

Curling my hands, I shook away the fervour he’d dazed me with.

It didn’t matter I wanted, needed, craved. It would never happen...if he was with another.

But he might not be.

Are you saying you’d ignore everything else and use him if he’s single?

My nerves returned a thousand fold.

When I didn’t reply, Mr. Everett prompted me. “Answer your friend. Tell him who I am to you.” He narrowed his eyes. “Are we playing or shall I walk away?”

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