Page 215 of Filthy Lies


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This woman—capable of violence and so much cruelty—had serenaded me.

And she had no idea how beautiful her voice was. No idea whatsoever. But I did now.

Yet another of this woman’s secrets that I was starting to unravel.

I wouldn’t stop until I knew them all.

Until she was an open book.

“What time is it?”

“Too late and too early.”

“At the same time?”

I grunted.

She peeped at me with one eye. “How long until we land again?”

“Two hours,” I garbled around a yawn.

“I dreamed of you.”

My yawn froze like I’d been plunged into a vat of liquid nitrogen. “What did you dream about?”

A soft hum was her answer.

Fuck.

My dick reacted to that hum.

Hair trigger, much?

“Where was I?”

“The shower.”

The immediacy of her answer told me she’d been stringing me along for effect. Two could play that game. “What was I doing in the shower?”

A soft smirk curved her lips. “Getting clean.”

I snorted. “Is that all?”

“You were very, very,verythorough.”

“There’s a shower in the jet’s bathroom,” I informed her.

“Nah, you were too thorough for a five-minute cleanup.”

She bit her lip and then reached over to place her hand on my abdomen. I tugged on her wrist, encouraging her to straddle me. Then, I settled my hands on her hips which was when I discovered that, at some point during our sleep, she’d dragged off her jeans and wore only the boxer briefs she kept stealing from me.

I lifted the duvet and peered beneath it to take a look at her.

“My boxers suit you better than they do me.”

She snorted. “That’s because you don’t get to see your ass in them.”

“No, I prefer this view.” I let my thumbs arc downwards, mimicking the V-shape of her apex, framing it with my hands. “You going to show me this?”

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