Page 155 of Secret Obsession
She stops in front of me and bats my hand away. “Screw whatever made you stop,” she whispers. “You’re mine, aren’t you? You made a big speech about that. Which meansImake you come.”
She takes me back into her mouth. Not as deep as fucking her throat would do, but—
Shit. She does something magic with her tongue. And when my cock twitches in her mouth, and I twist her hair in my hand, she does it again.
And again.
Her teeth touch my shaft briefly, clicking against the piercing on the underside, and I suck in a breath. Her gaze finds mine. She hums around me, sucking harder. This girl knows exactly how to unravel me.
“I’m not going to last—” My hips jerk forward of their own accord. I stay shallow, but I fuck her mouth until she’s red in the face. And when I come, spilling my seed across her tongue, she swallows it all.
“Perfect,” I breathe. “Fucking unbelievable.”
And that’s only the first part of our date.
47
WILLOW
Ineed to tell Miles about his car. And what the detective said about the dead guy’s brother, how he was asking questions of the other girl. Searching for him. Although the brother doesn’t know he’s dead… I think. I have that photo of a case freezer ingrained in my head, but I’m not sure where the body is.
Still in Crown Point?
Easily findable?
The brother is going to raise too many questions. If he keeps coming after us, he’ll bring every police detective down on our heads, too.
I shudder. I can’t let that fate fall on us. Miles murdered him—but somehow, I don’t actually care about that. I’ve forgiven it. Forgotten about it.
How fucked up is that?
How can I sleep with him every night, knowing he plunged that blade he’s always carrying, the one he carved an X intomyskin with, into that guy’s neck for drugging me?
Because he makes me feel safe.
Because he’s in my head, scrambling my insides.
Because I’m starting to believe the crazy shit he says to me. About me. For me.
The sex scent follows us to a restaurant, the spot on my sweater drying enough to go unnoticed. A shrewd-eyed hostess leads us to a table by the windows. We’re caught in the awkward time between lunch and dinner, and the place is mostly empty.
“Do you have an agenda?” I ask him. “For today.”
“Yes, of course.” He sits beside me.
Not across from me, like a normal person. I chose the seat closer to the window, and he slid right in next to me. His hand landed on my thigh a moment later, burning through the thin material.
We order lemonades and burgers.
“You saw your family last night?” His thumb is moving slowly across my inner thigh. Not traveling, just marking a crescent path. Sending little tingles all over me.
“No.” I shift. “They weren’t home.”
He pauses and looks at me closer. “Did you know you were going to an empty house?”
“No.”
“Willow.”
