Hard Rules (Dirty Money #1)(92)

Love.

I’m falling in love with her and while that’s damn good for me, I’m still not convinced it’s good for her.

I motion her forward and meet her in the middle of the patio, directly under a light, I set my drink on the table next to us, my hands settling on her waist. “Hey,” I say.

“Hey,” she says, that sweet shyness she seduces me with clear and present.

“I have something for you.” I look up, and her chin lifts, laughter bubbling from her lips as she spies the bra hanging there.

“Oh my God, Shane. Why is it still there and how did it get up there?”

“I have no clue how we managed that. Maybe I have a ghost.”

“A ghost,” she laughs. “Who puts bras on lights.”

“Maybe it has a sense of humor,” I offer.

“Why didn’t you take it down?”

“It’s my prize,” I say, my voice roughening with the rise of my desire. “Like you.”

“Shane,” she whispers, the air thickening around us.

I lean in to kiss her and the doorbell rings. “That can only be Seth. He’s the only person with the code.” I lean back and stroke her hair. “Sorry, sweetheart, but with some of the things going on, I have to let him in.”

“Of course,” she says. “I’ll be out here.”

I give her a nod and I head inside, crossing to the door and opening it, bringing Seth into view, the hard lines of his face telling me something is wrong. “Are you alone?” he asks.

“Emily’s on the patio.”

He lifts the folder in his hand and then sets it on the counter. “All the more reason you need to see this.”

A bad feeling rolls through me and I step back, allowing him to enter, and we convene in the kitchen at the island. He sets the folder in front of me. I flip it open and stare down at a photo of Emily. “What is this?”

“I had her checked out and yes, her identity checks out, but it’s a shell created by a hacker. The kind of shell that’s created when someone is hiding who they really are. Witness protection, criminal, or undercover agents.” He tosses an envelope on the counter. “I found that in her desk. It’s a compilation of information ranging from bank accounts to investors.”

“Holy f*ck. You think she’s setting us up.”

“I don’t have a clue, but you better find out and now. And because I’m thorough, I checked her fingerprints, too. There not on file.”

The idea of Emily’s betrayal slices through me, a wicked blade that is unforgiving. “Leave,” I order.

He gives an incline of his head and disappears, and I press my hands to the counter, letting my head dip low, my mother’s words coming back to me. Once someone is in your bed, they’re dangerously close to you. Watch your back with that woman.

“Shane.”

At the sound of Emily’s voice, I inhale and push off the counter, turning to find her standing in front of me. “It’s time to for some rules,” I say.

“Rules?” she asks, her voice quavering. “What rules?”

I grab her and turn us both, pressing her against the counter, my hands caging her in. “Hard rules. And hard rule number one is, no more lies.”





ABOUT THE AUTHOR


LISA RENEE JONES is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than forty books across many romance genres—contemporary, romantic suspense, dark paranormal, and erotic fiction. Her books have been translated all around the world, and her highly acclaimed Inside Out series is now in development for cable television. She loves to hear from readers.





Hello readers!

Remember that super sexy balcony scene where Emily is pressed to the glass enclosed railing, afraid she will fall, but Shane manages to make her forget everything but HIM?! Well, I’m excited to share what was going on in her mind while Shane was pushing her limits and claiming more than her pleasure. This was when he started to claim her heart.

I hope you enjoy!

XOXO, Lisa





Emily …

Shane’s eyes glint with satisfaction at my agreement but he doesn’t release me. Instead, he spreads my arms until they align with the railing, his body draped over mine and my nipples rasping against the starched material of his shirt. He lingers there, pressed against me, his teeth scraping my shoulder. Tiny darts of pleasure shoot down my arm, intensified when he licks the offended area. I shut my eyes with the impact of a breeze rushing over me, and while it is chilly, it does nothing to cool all the places he’s made hot.

His lips traveled over the skin his teeth and tongue have already visited, to my neck, my jaw, and then settling a breath from my mouth, his breath a warm fan promising me a kiss he does not deliver. He lingers right there, teasing me, driving me crazy, his hands flexing over mine, as if in warning. A beat later, he releases them and me, putting a step between us, and leaving me free to let go of the railing, and I almost do but his withdrawal seems to be a message. He won’t touch me if I let go of the railing. My grip tightens on the steel beneath my palm, holding on the way I want him to hold on to me.

“Close your eyes,” he orders.

I blanch, already feeling exposed and vulnerable. “What?”