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Which I don’t.
She twists away from the window. I step closer, my gaze latched on hers. Her eyes darken, deep blue pools glowing with heat and hunger, the same things flooding my body and mind.
She may be my fake wife, but she’s still mine. And it’s time I showed her just that.
“You lied to me.” I grasp a loose hairpin and slide it out of her hair. “If you weren’t my fake wife, I’d have to punish you for it.”
“Oh, so now we have boundaries?” She pulls out the last hairpin and tosses it with the others. Her long hair flows over her shoulders, her eyes narrowing as she closes the space between us.
“Only if you want them.” I capture her around the waist and hug her against me. A rush of breath expels from her lips at the sudden movement. “But I bet that pussy is dripping right now, screaming for me to smash the fuck out of said boundaries.”
Her lips part, a shocked gasp escaping them. “You are such a—”
“Cocky bastard. Yeah, I know. You’ve said it enough times today.” My hand slides over her ass. She arches her back, her warm fingertips digging into my arms. “You have two choices, Val. Tell me what you want, or take what I’m about to give you.” I lean forward, breathing my next words against her ear. “And we both know it’ll be the exact same thing.”
Chapter17
Valentina
Quinn slides his hands over my hips, dipping his head so that I’m forced to stare into his crystal-blue eyes. Except instead of being typically bright with mischief, they’re heavy with lust and brimming with need and want.
A shudder ripples through me.
Because I feel the same things, just like he said. For some reason, he can see through me like I’m a freshly washed window.
But giving in to him, giving in to this… it puts everything at risk. I can’t lose my focus. It’s why I’ve avoided this very thing for the past few years. Letting my head and my heart get all tangled up in emotions I can’t afford to have will be a colossally huge mistake. I’ve already caused enough damage to our mission tonight because I let my guilt consume all rational thought. Sure, I did a good thing for a stranger, but at what cost to the people who matter most to me?
I let go of his arms and slide one hand up the slope of his muscled back. It tenses under the pads of my fingertips as I move over the soft fabric of his shirt. My heart thrums as I get lost in the depths of his cobalt gaze, like I’m floating far away from everything I know and feel comfortable with. It should make me disconcerted… panicked… fearful, even.
Instead, I feel secure, like nothing can touch me or hurt me.
How freaking ironic since this devilishly gorgeous man in front of me is quite possibly the scariest person I’ve run into over the past years. Not because of who and what he is, but because of what he does to me.
As if operating under a trance, I move my hand higher until my fingers lose themselves in his dark hair. It’s soft and thick and my God, if I’m being honest with myself, I want so badly to tug at it while he’s fucking me senseless.
“What do you want, Val?”
His breathy words jar me from my reverie. My knees buckle, the vibration of his smooth voice making my insides hum with anticipation.
What do I want?
Such a simple question with a whole host of complicated answers.
But there is only one he wants right at this second, the one I can honestly say petrifies me most.
But fear is weakness. And I’m sure as hell nothing if I’m weak.
“I want you, Quinn.”
His lips lift into a seductive grin. “Yeah, you do.”
And then his mouth captures mine, devouring me like I’m the last bite of sweetness his taste buds will ever enjoy. He pushes through my lips, parting them with his tongue. It tangles and tussles with my own—devious, hungry, and intense. Coiling heat explodes down my throat and into every cell, melting me from the inside out.
I wrap my arms around him as he gathers me close. Lust courses through my veins, my temples throbbing from the blood pulsing between them. I snake a leg around his waist. He loops his arm under it, driving his hips against me. With one arm, he sends everything flying off the desk and backs me against it.
He lifts me onto the edge, shoves my dress up to my waist, and pulls off my panties. “I need to taste that sweet cunt,” he growls.
My breath hitches, desire pooling between my legs. I fall backward onto my hands, my palms slapping against the shiny wood. I shiver at the delicious feeling of his stubble scratching against the skin of my inner thighs. They quiver and quake at his nearness. He massages my pussy lips for half a second before my pulse rockets into my throat. Eyes squeezed shut, I grip the edge of the desk to keep from screaming when his tongue juts out and pushes into me with the kind of reckless abandon I guess I really do secretly crave.
