Broken Lies: The Regretful Lies Duet Book 1 Page 12

  “Do what?” I breathe out, my body coiled so tightly in anticipation, in desire, in need, it’s shaking.

  I am shaking.

  His hand continues its path, stopping at the base of my throat, his fingers curling around my neck in a motion that shouldn’t be provocative yet elicits a whimper from my lips.

  “This. Now.” He presses a kiss to the underside of my jaw. “And then see you tomorrow to work out.”

  I swallow, dropping my head back against the concrete wall to give him more access, all the while cursing at myself.

  I shouldn’t be doing this. He’s my employer. If his performance today held an ounce of truth, he’s still hung up on Brooke Silver.

  Brooke freaking Silver.

  “It’s different with you,” he whispers so low, I strain to make out the words.

  But, the words!

  They’re exactly what I want to hear. What every woman wants to hear, especially in a moment of doubt. The flicker of uncertainty swaying in my stomach is snuffed out.

  Closing my eyes, I drape my arms over Eli’s shoulders and press up onto my tiptoes. He understands my intent and guides me up the wall until my legs are wrapped around his hips, his erection pressing into my lower abdomen.

  The motion is natural, as if he could read my mind. That’s the thing with Eli – we push each other’s buttons and try to maintain distance, but this part, the chemistry, the physicality, the yearning need, it pulls us together with a force stronger than our combined resolve.

  Gone is the clashing of wills. The lashing of tongues. The desperate edge to conquer, the fear of surrender. In its place is a quiet acceptance of what we both know to be true — neither one of us is going to stop this.

  So here, in this alley in the center of Victoria, I let Eli Holt fuck me into oblivion.

  His hips pin me to the wall, one hand gripping my ass, the other splayed wide next to my head. His eyes are molten, a blazing green flame. Hot enough to burn, hot enough to soothe.

  “Why are you doing this, Violet?” he repeats, his voice low and gravelly. The veins in his forearm pop next to my head. I can see the physical restraint he’s exercising to keep this conversation going when we should be naked and pressed into each other by now.

  What the hell is wrong with this guy?

  “Jesus, Hollywood. Come on.” I grip his shoulders, my eyes nearly rolling back in their sockets when his erection brushes against my core.

  “Answer the question, babe.”

  “Because I want this. I want this with you. Are you happy?” My eyes jump open, irritated that he’s ruining this moment, the one I’m desperate to drown in, with his stupid chatter.

  “Tell me, Zoe. Why? I’ve tried the girl-next-door hometown sweetheart. I also did the unrivaled, sexy temptress who could make a dildo explode. And every woman in between. You know what? They all suck dick the same way. On their knees. But you, babe…” he pauses, a silent fury rippling over his expression.

  My head taps back against the cold wall. I hate that I’m wondering if Brooke Silver is the sexy dildo-exploding temptress he mentioned. “I’m what?”

  “You’re more dangerous than all of them combined. So tell me, why?”

  “Two truths and a lie.”

  He drops his head, biting into the ball of my shoulder in confirmation.

  “I want to feel something that has the power to ruin me. I want an orgasm that rips me wide open. I don’t want to belong to anyone.”

  He lifts his head, so achingly slow, my body clenches with anticipation for his expression, a desperate need to see what he’s thinking, since he’s sure as hell not going to tell me.

  His hand slides along the wall, scraping like sandpaper, until it slips behind my neck, squeezing lightly. He studies me, his gaze intent, his face hard. Like a bitter god, impassioned and indignant.

  The pressure at the base of my neck intensifies as his fingers squeeze harder.

  He licks his bottom lip, a flicker of indecision. “That’s three truths, babe.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “I —”

  But his mouth closes over mine before I can say the words, his lips bruising in their demand, nurturing in their need.

  Eli kisses me so hard that black ink with all the words I can’t say uncurl along my skin, like a palimpsest, hovering between blood and flesh, between black lies and even blacker truths.

  16

  Eli

  It was how I always imagined it would be.

  Her.

  Hot. Intense. Fucking desperate. Pushed up against a wall in a back alley, her tits on full display, bouncing each time I plow into her.

  She rained swear words down upon my head, her fingers gripping my neck, her mouth buried in my hair. Around my waist, her thighs clenched and quivered, so goddamn close to release, I could feel it. Feel it in the tightening of my balls, in the frantic pace I set.

  And it was nothing like how I imagined it.

  Because in the frenzy of fucking, wild eyes, parted lips, nipping teeth, a gentleness emerged.

  We’re both breathing heavily, our hands tracking each other’s movements, our eyes locked on each other’s expressions. Stepping back between her parted thighs, I palm her ass, kneading one cheek and then the other, becoming lost in the sounds of her moans all over again. Her eyelids at half-mast, hooded with a lust so thick it moves through my bloodstream like molasses.

  Slow and lazy. Languid and sweet.

  Golden eyes, the color of autumn leaves just before they fall from the tree, meet mine with an acceptance that breathes life into the vulnerability we’re both showing. She wants me again. This. Now. Repeat.

  I’ve wanted her from that first encounter. I’ve fought it, and cursed it, and pushed her away. And here we are, in a back street in the goddamn Seychelles, about to connect on a level deeper than just sex. More than what we just did.

  “Eli,” she whimpers, her thighs squeezing my hips. “Please, I need you.”

  You.

  Not “this.”

  I need you.

  “I got you, baby.” I press kisses to each of her eyelids. With one hand on her ass, her back anchored against the wall, I slide my other hand between us, slipping up her skirt once more. I’ve already torn her panties and I glimpse the scrap of lace, crumpled on the ground. But this time, I’m in no hurry. This time, I want to savor the moment. The second my fingers glide against her slick folds, she whimpers and I swear.

  Silky smooth and so fucking wet, I push two fingers inside her, high on the expression that crosses her face.

  Trust.

  Her eyes flutter closed, her head rocking against the wall as I slide my fingers in and out, the pad of my thumb tracing tiny, light, barely there circles over her clit.

  And fuck, she’s so goddamn responsive that my skin heats, my nerve endings exploding. Burning for her, my breathing is labored just watching her face. I feel like a teenage kid all over again, overeager and unsteady.

  “Eli, please.” She bites the corner of her mouth, her fingertips digging into the flesh of my back, sliding underneath my collar and scoring my skin. “Please.”

  “Be patient, Violet. I need this as much as you do,” I admit, relishing the need that ripples over her features. We already had the release, but now she needs to be taken care of.

  For the first time in forever, I want to take care of a woman like she’s mine. Not just for the night, but for real.

  I don’t slow my movements. The moment her breathing pitches higher, a growl rips from my lungs. Sinking to my knees, I hook her legs over my shoulders and bury my face in her center, replacing my fingers with my tongue.

  “Oh God.” She jerks from the contact, her ass slapping against the concrete before sagging in the space between us. My hands grasp her upper thighs while I lick a smooth line down her core, enjoying every single moan that falls from her mouth. Slow, leisurely strokes that raise her higher in the smallest increments of pleasure.

  While she writhes around
me, her thighs pressing into my neck in need of relief, I use the tip of my tongue to circle her clit, once, twice. I then unleash my need to have her, consume her, by fucking her with my mouth.

  “Eli, Eli, oh God, fuck, baby, please.” Words fall from her lips, her hands gripping my hair. “I’m coming,” she gasps as I squeeze her thighs, catching her body’s tremors with my mouth until she falls still.

  “Ready for round two, Violet?” I offer her a devilish grin as I stand to my feet, reach into my pocket for my wallet, pull out a second condom and roll it on. My dick is already hard as a fucking rock, painful in its need to get back inside of this bewildering woman.

  She nods, her eyes still hooded, brown hues speckling butterscotch. “Yes.”

  Lining myself up at her entrance, I push inside again. This time, she quivers around me instantly, and I feel it. Deep in my chest. A connection I haven’t experienced since Natalie. “Jesus.”

  “Jeez Louise.” Zoe’s hands lace behind my neck as I pause, giving her a second to adjust to me.

  I pull all the way back before pushing in again, not stopping until I’m root deep.

  She sucks in a breath, her elbows hooking over my shoulders as she draws me into her chest. “Eli.” It’s a curse laced with wonder. My body jolts from her tone, wishing I could be the man in her life to always cause such marvel.

  But knowing I can’t be, a part of me never wants to hear it again.

  Setting the pace, I block out the warmth of her touch, the caress of her fingers, the smooth feel of her skin gliding over mine.

  I work her over until she’s screaming my name and I’m growling hers, spilling into her so hard my vision blurs. Dropping my forehead, I try to regulate my breathing, my heart galloping in my chest.

  And not only because that was intense, but because my stupid organ already knows I’m in over my head.

  “Wow.” She squirms, her hips probably aching from being pressed into concrete for god knows how long.

  “Yeah,” I agree, slipping out of her and returning her to her feet.

  My entire being is on edge, brimming with feelings and emotions and so much goddamn messiness, I wish I could be empty once more.

  * * *

  It’s late when Zoe and I stumble back into her room.

  Small, compact, and tidy, the space makes me frown. I should have her moved to a bigger accommodation.

  She’s laughing, the glow from earlier wrapping around her like a hug. Carefree and confident, Zoe slips out of her skirt, kicking it to a corner before backpedaling to her bed.

  “What’re you doing, babe?” I reach behind my neck to yank off my shirt, checking to make sure the door is closed and the lock latched. Last thing I need are goddamn photos of me fucking Zoe circulating on Gossip.

  Especially considering there’s a greater threat of that happening from our back-alley bang than right now.

  The backs of her knees hit the bed and she flops backwards, bracing herself on her elbows to watch me undress. “Night’s not over, Hollywood.”

  “Good. Because tomorrow’s going to be hell.”

  She shrugs. “Tomorrow will be one more day.”

  Frowning, I throw my balled-up shirt at her and walk to her bed. Splayed out beneath me, her white halter top pulled tight across her chest, I grab one end of the tie and pull, until her shirt collapses and her breasts pop free. “You sound dejected, babe. I’ll give it to you again tomorrow if you ask nicely.”

  She snorts. “One night only. The now. Remember, Hollywood?”

  Crawling over her, I dip my head and suck her breast into my mouth, clamping down on her nipple until she hisses. Easing off, I glance up and shake my head. “Not a chance in hell, babe.”

  “Eli.”

  “I’m going to fuck you for the rest of our time in the Seychelles. I will give you all the orgasms to rip you wide open. I won’t ever make you mine.” I say the words, two truths and a lie, before gripping Zoe’s hip and sliding into her to fill her up with half-truths and convoluted lies.

  Deep down, the greatest lie is the one I tell myself.

  17

  Zoe

  “Morning, babe.” He smiles down at me as he walks out of my bathroom, a towel around his waist. Fresh from the shower, drops of water cling to the hard planes of his chest and abdomen and drip from the stubble coating his chin.

  “You look like a commercial.” I swing my legs to the side of the bed and stand. A wave of dizziness washes over me and I reach out, gripping the end table to keep from falling.

  “Thought you could handle your liquor,” he shoots back, that stupid grin still in place. Stupid because that mouth is too good to belong to any man. The things he can do with it are criminal.

  “Maybe my light headedness is from other pursuits.” I turn and smile, ignoring the throb behind my eyelids, the dryness of my mouth.

  You’re hungover. You’re sated. You’re a confident woman engaging in hot sex with an unattainable man.

  I’ll never make you mine.

  I shake my head to clear Eli’s words from my mind. They’re what I wanted to hear, right?

  Wrong.

  Just one look at him forces me to admit that while I used to relish casual, no-strings-attached-sex, I suck at one night only with him. Yes, I’m living in the moment. Carpe diem, blah, blah. But those eyes on that face with that voice makes my heart twirl like Anna Pavlova in The Dying Swan. Plus, the fact that he’s still here, chatting me up and grinning like he has nowhere else to be, makes me want things I shouldn’t.

  Like, him. For more than one night.

  Shoving my feet into the slippers housekeeping left at the side of my bed, I stalk to the bathroom, closing the door in Eli’s surprised and irritating face.

  I stare at myself in the mirror, drawing in deep breaths and trying to rein in the thoughts ricocheting like pinballs around my head. Tears burn behind my eyes and flood my senses.

  What is wrong with me?

  I had the best damn sex with the hottest guy I ever met last night.

  Yeah, last night. And now it’s tomorrow. The dreaded “day after.”

  Dropping my head into my hand, I pinch the bridge of my nose until it hurts, a distraction from my stupid tears.

  You’re not a crybaby. You accept reality. You’re strong.

  I drop my hand and glance up at my flushed cheeks, messy hair, and lean, naked body.

  You’re fucked, that’s what you are. Fucked in the head for thinking you could do this with a man like Eli Holt.

  “Hey. You okay?” Eli calls through the door.

  Ugh. Rolling my eyes, I ignore the edge of concern in his tone and flip on the faucet, throwing myself into a hot shower.

  Once I feel somewhat human again and open the door to my bedroom, Hollywood is sitting at my desk, watching a YouTube video.

  My heart lodges in my throat as I see the white paper, the bane of my existence, lying face down on my desk.

  Did he read it? Does he know?

  “This guy is such an asshole. Funny though.” He chuckles, glancing up and pointing to the screen where some guys dare each other to drink some type of hemorrhoid inducing hot sauce from shot glasses.

  I force a smile, but it feels like plastic on my face.

  No, he doesn’t know. He would say something.

  Wouldn’t he?

  He stands from the chair and wraps his arms around me. “You okay, babe?”

  I breathe in the scent of soap clinging to his skin and center myself.

  I did the now. It was amazing. Now, it’s a new day.

  “I’m fine. I gotta get ready for our session and run some errands.”

  “Yeah, a reminder kept popping up on your computer. Call your doctor?” He frowns.

  I wave a hand, relieved he can’t see my face. “It’s for my dad.”

  “Figured as much,” he says easily. “You wanna grab breakfast?”

  Is he serious? Can he really be so casual after last night? He had his way with
me in a skeevy alleyway. In public. And I liked it. More than liked it. Now, he wants to grab poached eggs?

  “Nah, I’m fine.” I step out of his embrace, gesturing to my towel. “Going to get dressed. See you at 2PM for our workout?”

  He nods, his expression solemn before he swipes his phone and wallet from the dresser. “I’m going to bring my best, Violet.”

  “I’m going to punish your ass, Holt,” I quip, cringing when I hear how the words sound.

  Eli laughs, shaking his head on the way to the door, “Is that a promise, babe?”

  “Goodbye, Eli. And thanks for last night.”

  “Trust me, the pleasure was all mine, baby.” He caresses my cheek, tucking strands of wet hair behind my shoulder. His grin is lopsided and cute and boyish, causing my heart to stutter. Then he shuts the door behind him and I collapse into my bed.

  Baby.

  It’s the first time he’s said it, not counting during sex, and it didn’t sound like a cheap shot.

  My heart gallops in my chest as I try to regulate my breathing.

  Holy fuck. I slept with Eli Holt. Like, slept, slept. In the same bed. For the whole night.

  Picking up my phone, I roll my eyes at the stupid reminder to call Dr. Salinas and, vowing to do it later, I FaceTime Charlie instead.

  She answers on the first ring, her blond hair piled messily on top of her head. “Soul sister, I’ve been thinkin’ of ya.”

  “I miss you, Charlie. Why’re you in such a good mood?”

  “I’m always in a good mood.”

  “Nope. Something’s up with you.”

  “I could say the same thing to you. You look…normal.”

  “Normal?” I scoff, sliding back into my twisted sheets and leaning against the headboard.

  “Yeah. Like your mind isn’t racing a million miles a minute with a to-do list longer than the Octomom’s.”

  “I had sex last night.”

  “Eli?” My best friend breathes out, her eyes so wide she looks like an alien.