Lying and Kissing(11)

The implications of it were still detonating like fireworks in my chest when I opened my eyes and said, “I was looking for you.”

He went utterly silent. His eyes flicked over my face, fast and brutally efficient, searching for any trace of a lie.

He didn’t find one because, on some level, I think I was telling the truth.

He inched his head back from me, but he didn’t release me. He was getting a better look at me, I realized. He’d been entirely focused on my face, but now his eyes swept down over my chest, my hips, my legs. Something like a hot shudder went through me and I felt a flush rise in my cheeks. That feeling I’d had downstairs was back, that sense of being locked onto each other like magnets, close enough now that I twisted and turned to mimic his movements.

As he looked at me, I looked at him. He was nearly a head taller even with me in my heels, and his frame blocked out almost all of the light from behind him. With the black suit, he looked like he was made of shadow except for those blazing blue eyes. But it wasn’t his size so much as the solidity of him, the realness. Next to him, I felt like a faded, worn-thin copy of a person.#p#分页标题#e#

And the weirdest part was, as I stood there pinned against the door, I could feel the energy of him flowing into me, reawakening me. After years spent frozen and slowly dying, I finally felt alive again.

He took a long, slow breath and leaned in closer to me again. He was wearing some cologne I didn’t recognize, something complex and elegant and somehow old-fashioned. He moved his mouth close to my ear. Then he spoke, and each word was like a savage little kiss. “You shouldn’t come looking for monsters. Men like me will eat you alive.”

And then he drew back to see my reaction.

I didn’t know how I was going to react either. I was operating on a whole different level, now, something deep inside me directing things. I was just along for the ride.

I took a shaky breath and whispered, “I’m not scared of you.”

He stared deep into my eyes, appraising me, and said, “Yes you are.”

And a deep, hot oil slick seemed to sluice through me, more complex than fear, more complex than lust.

His free hand closed on my leg, just beneath the hem of my dress. His palm cupped my flesh through the nylon, his heat throbbing into me. And he stared at me, demanding an answer.

I swallowed and stared back, and the message my eyes sent was…“Continue.”

His hand rose, rasping along the dark nylon, my breathing ratcheting higher and higher with each inch. His fingers slid over my thigh...then my upper thigh. Each square millimeter he touched burned as if it was on fire, the energy crackling inward and up towards my groin. The dress was coming up along with his hand, gathering on his wrist. And then he touched the naked skin above my stocking and I realized I was panting.

He stared straight into my eyes as his fingers reached my panties. His fingertips toyed with the waistband for a second...and then continued. He moved inward, now, hoisting my dress up further with an impatient jerk of his wrist. His hand slid over my stomach and up to my chest and—

He cupped my breast, his hand weighing it in my bra. His palm throbbed warmth through the thin fabric, straight into my soft flesh. Then he squeezed—a long, lingering squeeze, and pleasure erupted in my chest and roared out to every corner of me. I tried to go up on my tiptoes, to twist, to thrash in response, but his other hand still had me pinned. I had to just stay there and take it.

I’d never been more turned on.

And then I heard a noise in my earpiece, a soft intake of breath. They’re listening to this!

And my mouth said, “I have to go,” even as my body demanded that I stay right where I was.

Luka had his eyes half-closed. He just remained there, studying me for another few seconds. He gave my breast one last, unexpected squeeze and I gasped as it sent a ripple of heat through me. Then he released me and my dress fell back into place.

Operating on autopilot, I grabbed my violin case and opened the door. I’d taken two steps out into the hallway before I remembered the bodyguard on the stairs. He turned at the sound of the door opening and his jaw dropped. He reached under his jacket—maybe for a radio, maybe for a gun.

But then I heard Luka emerge behind me, and whatever nod or gesture he made to his bodyguard made the man step back immediately and clear a path for me. I didn’t turn around. I just hurried down the stairs, violin banging against my hip, threw the front door wide and headed straight for the cherry-red SUV. Adam was already inside and waiting and I could see the concern in his eyes. But he faked a fatherly smile and opened the door for me. I quickly climbed inside.