Page 52 of Threaded Lies

“Do you think that’s all it takes to win me back?” I tease.

“Sunshine, it takes a lot more than that. No man is foolish enough to think otherwise.”

Another brush of his lips. Another drip of gas on smoldering embers.

“You should know that I have a list of complaints to lodge with the new owner.”

A hand sliding down my back and yanking me so that I land squarely against him.

“Complaints, hmm?”

I run my hands up his chest and welcome the feel of the corded muscles contracting beneath. “Yes,” I murmur and scrape my nails up his neck and then thread them through his hair. “You kept this from me.”

“Can’t fault a man for wanting to make sure all his i’s were dotted and t’s were crossed.”

“You could have saved us a lot of … everything … if you’d just told me.”

“I prefer to be thorough,” he says.

I reach down and pull my dress over my head so I’m standing before him in my bra, panties, and strappy heels. “Thorough, huh?”

“Good god,” he mumbles.

“Then prove it.”

So much for holding out.

Holden chuckles. “I do believe that was the plan.”

SEVENTEEN

Rowan

From one breath to the next, we become a mass of grabbing hands, demanding lips, and moaned commands.

Of need and greed fueled by desperation.

Of depravity seeing gluttony is on the horizon.

We move through my place in choreographed chaos. His shirt being pulled over his head—our lips parting only long enough for the fabric to pass between us before reconnecting again.

His hands unclasping my bra and his low guttural growl as they cup my bare breasts.

“Christ, Row,” he mutters as he dips down and pulls one nipple into his mouth, allowing his tongue to swirl around its tip.

I sag against the wall at my back and revel in the warmth of his mouth and the riot of sensations warring through me. The want to take fast and the need to go slow, to savor everything about this moment.

He’s here. My hands are on him. We’re okay. I can’t get enough of him.

My body aches with the sweetest burn of longing and restraint. I fist one hand in the short length of his hair and pull his head back so his desire-darkened eyes meet mine.

“I need your cock, Holden. I want it.”

A smirk flickers on his handsome face. One I’m not sure where I want it to pleasure me next. “Then take it. Tease it. But Sunshine, I will be in you when I come. I want to be buried so fucking deep I can’t fathom anything but you.”

His words. Those words. Does he realize what they do to me? What he does to me?

I reach down to his unbuttoned pants and slide my hands inside his waistband at the same time he shoves his pants down. I’m met with the hard, velvet length of his cock springing free and reminding me just how fucking fantastic he feels.