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8
Decker
Her nails against my skin… Her gentle, seductive words… Those eyes. Fuck. Those gorgeous i
All of it messes with my sleep-addled brain.
I’m hallucinating. Or worse, she’s playing me, and I can’t even decipher the deception.
“You were in here earlier.” I hold her gaze, looking for a glimpse of betrayal. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
“Of course you were still awake.” She chuckles, her nails still trekking a deliriously intense trail over my scalp. “I came in to get your clothes. I’ve already washed them. It shouldn’t be long until they’re dry.”
I smother my surprise. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to. It’s the least I can do.” She inches closer, her legs brushing my bent knees. “Not that I’m the best at laundry. But it’s the thought that counts, right?”
I don’t care about the clothes. I wouldn’t give a shit if she shredded them to pieces. “Sure is.”
With the way she’s looking down at me, her appraisal delicate and pure, I’d settle for walking around half-naked until we have to go back to Portland.
“I also found the money Cole was talking about in the safe.” Her nails rake deeper, the bite of pain an intoxicating thrill. “I can repay you for all the cash you’ve spent.”
“I don’t want your money.”
“It’s not my money. It’s yours. I owe it to you.”
“Fine,” I mutter, no longer willing to be distracted from her touch. “We can sort it out later.”
She smiles, slow and sweet. “You’re still exhausted. Why don’t you get some more sleep?”
Getting horizontal is the only thing on my mind, but sleep has nothing to do with it. I can feel her everywhere—in my blood, with each beat of my heart, in every twitch of my fingers.
I want her.
I fucking need her.
I stare into those eyes, trying to determine what’s being hidden by her seduction. She entered my room for a reason, and I’m not delusional in thinking it was for sex. “What are you doing in here, Keira?”
Why is she touching me?
Tempting me.
Playing games.
She waits, taking her time to form the perfect answer. “I don’t know.”
“That’s not like you,” I keep my voice low. “You’re not indecisive. You know exactly what you want. So, tell me. What are you hiding behind those ocean eyes?”
She sucks in a slow breath, her nails pausing at the back of my scalp. “I find it hard to read you. Usually, people aren’t that difficult to understand. But with you I’m struggling.”
My pulse rises, eager for her to continue the trail of those fingers. “Is that all this is? You’re trying to read me?”
“No.” She rakes her teeth over her lower lip. Sweet. Uncharacteristically virtuous. “It’s more than that.”
I’m struggling to read this situation myself. She’s not usually like this. Close. Soft. Almost malleable. I’m seeing it more and more. First, in the shower last night, now here, in my room, while I’m half naked.
I’m tempted to grab her. To pull her close and drag her down to the mattress on top of me despite the stupidity. And there’s so much fucking stupidity.
The temptation before me is enough to have me brushing aside the threat of her brother. Fuck Torian. Fuck her entire family. As long as I can fuck her, right?
Wrong.
Focus, asshole.
There’s too much at stake to literally blow this now. “You should get out of here, hot stuff. You don’t want this.”
“I told myself the same thing.” Her nails work in circles. “I keep telling myself. But here I am. And I can’t seem to find the will to leave.”
Her fingers move behind my ears, the scrape igniting a shiver that rushes through my chest. She treks her touch to my neck, along my jaw, and stops at my chin to nudge her knuckles into my skin and tilt my face closer to hers.
She’s unpredictable.
Undeniable.
“Do you want me to fuck you, Keira?” I murmur. “Because that’s what’s going to happen if you don’t get out of here.”
She swallows and shakes her head. “No, I don’t want to be fucked.” She leans in and glides the delicate pad of her fingers over my growing stubble. “I want to get to know you. The kind Sebastian. The protective guy I glimpsed the first night we met.”
“There’s nothing kind about me, honey.”
“Just charm and sarcasm, right?”
“Right.”
“I don’t believe you.” She smiles, but the humor doesn’t reach her eyes. “In fact, I think that’s another reason why Cole doesn’t trust you. You’re too sweet. Too nice. You don’t fit in.”
That may have been the case years ago.
It sure as shit ain’t now, though.
Life circumstances have made me the perfect player in this crime-riddled family. I’m here because I fit like a fucking glove.
I grab the back of her thighs and yank her forward, trapping her between my legs. She gasps, those baby blues flashing as she grabs my shoulders to stabilize herself.
“If you’re looking for nice, you’ve come to the wrong guy.” I grab the front of her blouse and tug her close. “If you want sweet, I’m not that guy either.”
There’s no room for weakness in this world. Not around her family and definitely not in the bedroom. If she expects a limp dick, she’s got another thing coming.
“I just want you,” she whispers. “The real you.”
I tug her blouse harder, forcing her lips to mine. She whimpers as our mouths collide, and I keep tug, tug, tugging her forward until she climbs onto the bed. Onto me. She straddles my hips, her skirt creeping higher up her perfect thighs.
There’s no sweetness. Not one fucking thing kind about our kiss.
I part her lips with my tongue, demanding entrance she allows too easily. There’s no fight in her, only surrender. The sweetest fucking surrender I eagerly devour as she nestles on top of my crotch.
We’re chest to chest, not a breath of space between us, and still she’s not close enough.
I want more.
I need everything.
I shove my hand into her hair and fist the long strands. I palm her ass, guiding her into a gentle rock against my pulsing cock.
She’s perfect. She’s always been perfect. And having her nestled against my shaft, her lips on mine, is the sweetest fucking victory I’ve ever tasted.
But we’re not supposed to be together.
Never were. Never should be.
If only the lust coursing between us didn’t feel like divine fucking intervention brought us here.
She places her hand on my chest, lightly pushing, breaking the kiss. “Why did you save me last night?” Her panted breaths brush against my skin.
“Why?” I find it hard to concentrate when her kiss-darkened lips are a constant distraction. “Because I didn’t want you to get hurt.”
“But why? Why risk your life to save mine? You barely know me.”
“I know you, Keira. It feels like I’ve known you for a long time.”
She shakes her head, our noses brushing. “No, you don’t. I barely know myself.”
I don’t buy it.
I can’t.
“Then maybe it’s a gut feeling I have,” I hedge. “I’ve been infatuated with you since the first night we met. That doesn’t happen for no reason.”
“I’m sure there are many reasons—the thrill of the chase… The desire for something you’re not supposed to have… Lust…”
I incline my head. “It could be all the above. And the list wouldn’t be complete without noting how devastated I would’ve been to see your perfect body marked by a bullet hole.” I slide my hands down her back and over her tailbone. “I’ve pictured a lot of things going into this ass of yours, but a bullet ain’t one of them.”