Page 92 of Devious Lies (Cruel Crown)
Inside, I shook.
I hadn’t considered the consequences of an unleashed Nash. Ire darkened the moss-colored flecks in his eyes. Two storm-struck irises punctured my sanity. If he wanted, he could snap me in two and leave my body for the construction team to discard.
They wouldn’t say a thing because fear and power are conjoined twins—unable to travel without the other.
Nash didn’t move.
Didn’t blink.
Didn’t breathe.
I needed to him to fuck me.
I needed to ruin him back.
My bags slipped from my fingers, and I jumped on him before he could respond.
He caught me. Probably on instinct. Two large palms gripped my waist. I wrapped my legs around his back before he could second guess this. I needed him out of my system. I needed to scratch this itch until it bled and bruised and scarred.
Until I had something inside me that matched the battle scars on his torso.
Nash could say I didn’t matter to him, that he hated me, or even that I wasn’t important enough to hate, but it didn’t change the pesky little fact that he wanted me.
His erection hit me through my clothes, proving my point.
Had he been hard this whole time?
I rubbed against it, my fingers digging into the hair at the nape of his neck as I panted against his lips.
“Fuck.” He pushed me down harder on him, grinding his cock between my thighs. “I can’t figure out what’s worse—that you’re twenty-fucking-two, that you’re my brother’s best friend, or that my mouth has never touched your pussy.”
I leaned forward for a kiss, but he pulled his head back, eyes hard.
He enunciated his words. “I. Don’t. Kiss.”
It occurred to me that he hadn’t kissed me that night in Reed’s room either. Suddenly, all I wanted from Nash was a kiss, but it couldn’t happen.
He towered over me like a villain. Scathing eyes. Midnight hair. Locked jaw.
I hated him for being right. Kissing him would be too intimate for what we were. I needed a dirty fuck. Filthy. Raw. Something I could remember ten years from now as I laid beside a man I loved.
My lips tingled with need, lusting to be traced by his tongue, but he never would.
Didn’t mean I had to take it lying down.
“You also said you won’t fuck me, but here we are.” I jutted my chin up, refusing to show him he had dug beneath my skin and affected me. “Our second time.”
“I’m not fucking you.” He palmed my ass, gripping it tight. His nails dug into it. “I’m about to ruin you. If you know what’s best for you, you’d take your vanilla ass to the elevator and go to work like a good girl. If you stay, you will never recover.”
“Ruin me, Nash. Do your best.”
I’ll ruin you back, and you won't see it coming.
I bit my lip until it bled, holding back a whine as he set me down. When I looked around, I realized he had walked us past a doorless threshold and into an unfinished suite. Construction materials bunched on a table in the corner, fresh low-pile carpet covered the floor, and unassembled cabinets laid stacked in the far corner.
Nash slipped his suit jacket off, tossed it onto the carpet, and slid off his belt. “In ten years, when you’re laying in bed next to your boring husband with the cookie-cutter day job, fingering yourself to the memory of how fucking hard I made you come, remember you begged for it.”
He stalked toward me with the long strap of leather between two tightened fists.
