Until the Tequila (The Killers #3.5)(7)

I let out a whimper as his index finger circles my nipple before making its way up to my collar bone. Hot on my skin, his touch drags back down between my breasts, parting the material where it barely hangs on.

“You did.” He looks back up to my face. “That’s a weird thing to lie about, little dandelion.”

“Please, don’t call me that,” I whisper.

“Why?” His voice dips to match mine and I think he’s going to lean in to kiss me, but he doesn’t. I yelp when his hands come to my hips and he plops me up on the counter next to my double cheeseburger that’s getting cold. “Did you lie about that, too? About the power of the sun, youthful joy, and … what was the last one?”

My breath catches because I’ve totally screwed myself and I’m ninety-nine percent sure I spilled all my secrets last night. Secrets I haven’t told my best friends—not even Addy.

“Oh yeah.” He spreads my legs and steps between them, running his hands up the sides of my bare thighs. “Long-lasting happiness.” His hands continue upward, pulling my kimono with them, and my eyes close at his touch.

“All lies,” I breathe and my eyes fly open when he reaches the sides of my bare ass. The only thing between us is the light Asian silk I bought the last time I went to Chinatown. Its watercolor-hued threads are woven into a floral print with birds and a peacock.

He squeezes my ass cheeks and doesn’t take his eyes off mine. “You’re a naughty little liar.”

Pulling my ass to the edge of the counter, he leans in to kiss me at the same time. I grip his shoulders to hang on and can’t stop myself from wrapping my legs around the backs of his thighs as I teeter on the ledge. But I shouldn’t worry, he holds me tight as he devours my mouth.

“You’re bare under this.” Unlike me—lying about not lying—he murmurs the truth against my lips before asking, “Do you have a headache?”

With his hands on my ass, I have no words. My head might be spinning from what he’s doing to me, but the only thing that aches right now is below my waist, pressed against his erect cock.

I forget about everything—about all the time I’ve spent avoiding him and my father who abandoned me when I was little but now seems to be hell-bent on finding me—and throw caution to the tequila. I shake my head.

“You’re really not going to answer any of my questions?”

I can’t help but like the way he feels and my body hums. My words are clipped and thoughtless, just like the current state of my brain. “I told you—boring. Nothing to tell.”

He pulls his head back and looks at me. His eyes roam my face first, then down to my body that he’s completely taken over with his touch.

“I can’t just leave you here like this, can I?” he asks.

Spinning in a whole new way that has nothing to do with the tequila, I look up and my only answer is my heels digging into the backs of his thighs and my fingernails into his shoulders. If he leaves me like this, I’ll be forced to let the cheeseburger go cold and head straight for my vibrator.

I swear, his whiskey eyes darken before he leans in and his lips return to mine, a hypnotic pull so strong, it makes it hard to deny him.

I feel the pull of the silk tie that’s precariously holding on as if its life depends on it, causing my kimono to fall open.

“Fuck.” He looks down between us, his eyes dragging heavily over me. “You’re more beautiful than I imagined.”

He cups my breast again, this time skin-to-skin. Running his hand down the center of my body, never letting go of my ass with his other. When his index finger runs so lightly through my sex, it’s the sweetest pain I’ve ever experienced.

I need more—so much more.

Never did I think I’d be here with Evan Charles Hargrove III. It doesn’t matter how much I’ve secretly dreamed about it.

“So wet.”

When I open my eyes, he looks from his hand to me as he slides a finger inside while his thumb brushes my clit.

“You were fighting this, Mary. Been fighting me off for so long—but no more. As of this moment,” he presses on my clit, making me moan, as if he needed to do more to get my attention, “this is happening.”

I ignore all the reasons that dance through my head as to why I've done everything in my power to ward off Evan's advances. I forget about the scum of the earth man who’s back in Tennessee looking for me. Instead, for once, I listen to my heart. To the one, selfish reason that should never cancel out all sense of reason—I want him. I want him now more than I’ve ever wanted anything.

I spread my legs farther.

As he watches, his tongue wets his lips in that way that secretly drives me wild. “There you go.”

He plunges two fingers inside me—then three and, it feels so good, my head falls back. I have to let go of Evan to support myself on the counter. Arching into his touch, I chase my orgasm like a wild woman. He circles my clit with firm, slow strokes, bringing me close but not giving me nearly enough.

When I try to move against his hand, desperate for more, he lightens his touch. “You’re fucking perfect. All this, just for me. Tell me that you get it.”

I open my eyes and tip my head to look at him. Sitting here, bare and spread before him as he stands there fully dressed finger fucking me, I nod and my answer comes anxious and needy. “Yes. All yours.”