Page 56 of Bitter Lies

She does, and I carry her into the bathroom, knowing I’m crossing a line I can’t uncross. Once I’ve had her, there’s no going back. Whatever this is, we’re in it now. She’ll be mine for as long as she allows.

It’s dangerous getting involved with her while working undercover. A risk I shouldn’t take. A gamble.

But I won’t let the chance to be with her go to waste.

When she learns the truth, I’ll be gone. And this—her—will be nothing more than a memory. One I’ll carry with me for the rest of my life.

Chapter 21

Isabel

What the hell am I doing?

If men came with warning signs, Aiden’s would be a massive flashing one with red arrows pointing in every direction: Bad idea. Dangerous. Wrong for you. He’ll eat you alive.

He’s everything I shouldn’t want. A criminal. A man who’s likely murdered someone because of an unpaid debt. Yet here I am, practically begging him to do his best to ruin me.

My head knows how this will end. Badly. Painfully. But my heart, along with other traitorous parts of my body, doesn’t care.

I’ve spent my whole life being the good girl. Following the rules. Staying far away from trouble. Doing what others expected.

Maybe this is what rebelling looks like for me. I’m tired of always doing the right thing. I want to know what it feels like to lose control. Even if that’s at the hands of a man who will destroy me from the inside out.

“Last chance,” he growls into my neck before biting just hard enough to send a shiver down my spine. “There will be no turning back. Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

His teeth rake along the front of my throat, teasing a moan from me before he closes his bite on the tender flesh below my chin.

“Aiden.”

Kissing a path to my ear, his teeth nip my lobe before murmuring, “How many men have you fucked?”

Not wanting to give him an exact number, I whisper, “Enough.”

My arse lands on the small vanity, the cool surface grounding me as he takes a step back and crosses his forearms. His fierce, dark, brooding stare holds me captive. “How many?”

“Does it matter? I’m not a virgin. I’ve done more than missionary. How many women have you fucked?” And just to be a bitch, I take it one step further. “Or should I be asking, how many people have you fucked? I shouldn’t assume you’ve not experimented with men.”

The veins in his forehead pulse as his jaw clenches. His pupils blow wide, turning his chocolate eyes nearly black.

One step forward and I’m caged in, his hands slamming down on the vanity on either side of my thighs. I couldn’t move if I wanted to—which I don’t. When he leans in, the warmth and control of his breath lightly ghost my skin.

“That smart mouth of yours is bound to get you into trouble, sweetheart.” With a steady rhythm, he takes slow and deliberate breaths. “I’ve only been with women. Men don’t do it for me.”

“How many?” I press, softer this time.

“More than a few.” His eyes shift to my lips, lingering there for a moment. “Enough to know what I like.”

“Why do you want to know?” A slow flick of my tongue moistens my dry lips. “I’m not a fragile doll, so don’t treat me like one. You’ve already spanked me. I know you like it rough. The things you’ll do to me… I doubt any man I’ve been with would dare.”

The space between us disappears as I lean in, catching that flicker of anticipation in his eyes. “I want it. Desperately in need of a wild adventure. Give me your worst.”

The intensity in his eyes never fades as he closes the distance. His lips crash into mine, sending a jolt of electricity through my body. This isn’t a kiss. It’s deeper, heavier. Nothing has ever felt this powerful. The heat consumes me, a burning desire that leaves me aching for more.

“Arms up.” He orders, his fingers already slipping under the hem of my flimsy tank before yanking it over my head.

No bra. My breasts are average. Not small, but big enough. A small tattoo is inked on the top of my left one, usually hidden from view.