Deadly Lies (Deadly #3)(68)

His hand left her aching flesh, and she could have screamed. More! Too close, she wanted—

Max’s palms slammed onto the bed, and he rose up, facing her, chest to chest. His mouth took hers in a deep kiss even as he thrust against her, rocking his hips hard, and she loved it, loved it. Sam didn’t care about the light. She didn’t care what he saw. Everything was finally right. He was right.

Sam’s nails dug into his chest as she clung to him. The climax was so close that her sex quivered.

His mouth was against her neck now. Licking. Sucking. His hands buried in her hair and held her tight.

“You’re so damn beautiful.”

He made her feel that way.

His head lifted. His eyes blazed at her. “Beautiful.”

Sam trembled and seemed to break apart. The white-hot stream of her climax swept over her, and heat spiraled through her as she came.

And Max watched her.

Her sex contracted around him. Max kissed her, driving his tongue past her lips, and she shuddered against him. Sam rose higher onto her knees, drove down once more, and he came. No, he seemed to erupt in her. His cock jerked, his body went bow tight, and the pleasure rocked between them. So strong. So hard.

Her heart drummed in her ears. She tightened her inner muscles around him, wanting to steal every drop of pleasure from him.

She wanted to freeze time. To stay with him.

To be safe in his arms.

Even if it was just an illusion.


“My brother’s gone.” Quinlan’s gaze wasn’t on the full moon that hung just outside his window. His head was bent, and Beth could see him gazing at his left hand. That hand was still wrapped in white bandages, like most of his body.

Not that the bandages had slowed him down any in bed. They’d just been… careful. She knew the difference between sexual pleasure and pain. Beth had learned that lesson a long time ago.

And those damn agents knew about her past.

After taking a slow, deep breath, Beth crossed to him and pressed a kiss to his bare shoulder. “You know where he is.” With her. Unspoken, but it hung between them.

His body tightened. “She’s an FBI agent?”

That had been news to her. Dammit. All her plans… “I just thought she was his latest screw.” Max liked variety in his women, and she’d even thought about making a play for him once or twice.

Quinlan turned toward her. “She is the latest. His lover and an agent.” The moonlight slid over his face. “They told Max no cops. They told him, and he broke the rules.”

“And your father died,” she said softly. Beth figured she should probably feel badly about that. She didn’t. No more screwing the old bastard and wearing that stupid smile, the lying smile that said she loved having his small dick inside her.

Quinlan flinched. His uninjured hand balled into a fist. “When I go to sleep, I see my dad. The agents shined their flashlights on us, and I was over him, and his blood was everywhere.”

Beth swallowed. Okay. She didn’t want to hear this. “Don’t think about it.” Her hand curled around his arm. “Come back to bed.” The rumpled bed sheets waited for them. If he gave her the chance, she could make him forget almost anything.

His gaze held hers, and for an instant, anger flashed across his handsome features. Anger and… disgust? “You were in his bed just nights ago,” Quinlan muttered. “He’s not even cold in his grave, and you’re back with me.”

If he expected her to blush or feel some kind of shame, he had the wrong woman. “I was with you while he was still breathing.” So easy to do—all it took was a quick walk down the hallway. But Quinlan had been able to give her what she needed when Frank hadn’t even been able to come close. “Now things are just easier for me.”

He shook his head. “I can never tell for certain.” A brief pause, and his eyes narrowed. “Are you really as cold a bitch as you pretend to be?”

A smile curled Beth’s lips. “Maybe.” Her heart pounded too fast. Maybe not. “And are you really the lost little rich boy that you pretend to be?”

His lips took hers. Softly at first, then harder, harder. Because he knew what she liked. “Maybe,” he whispered against her mouth. He moved to face her fully, and his cock, aroused, thick, so ready, pushed against her legs.

Maybe not.





CHAPTER Thirteen


A few cases back,” Samantha’s husky voice floated in the darkness, “something happened to me.” She lay in bed next to Max, her hand on his chest and her head turned so that their eyes met. The scent of sex and woman hung in the air, making Max want more.

With her, he always wanted more.

But an echo of pain drifted through her words and Max’s body tightened. “What?” Her hand slipped off his chest, and he missed that touch instantly. “Samantha?”

“I was working a case down in Mississippi. The Watchman case.”

The name clicked. “That bastard who was killing women?”

“Not just killing them.” Still husky and soft. “He tortured them first. He turned their worst fears into reality.”

Max didn’t like where this was going. He reached for her, curling his hand around her hip and pulling her next to him. “You stopped him?”

A broken laugh. “If only.” The click of her swallow was painful to hear.