Page 65 of The Perfect Deception

He didn’t know how to an­swer that, or even if it re­quired an an­swer. So he fo­cused on her hands wrapped around his. They were cool, but sooth­ing. They didn’t add to the heav­i­ness around him. In fact, they cen­tered him. “It’s done.”

She stared at him a mo­ment longer and he won­dered what she saw. But she gave noth­ing away and fi­nally, she let him have his hand back. He wasn’t sure if he was dis­ap­pointed or re­lieved.

With­out a word, he started the car.

“Come back to my place,” she said. Her voice was low, but it wasn’t a ques­tion. If it had been any­one but Dina, he would have said it was a com­mand.

Not in the mood for an ar­gu­ment, and re­ally, what was there to ar­gue about, he drove to her apart­ment and parked in front. She climbed out of the car and waited on the side­walk un­til he joined her. Then, tak­ing his hand once again, she led him into her apart­ment.

Once in­side, his mouth went dry and for the first time, he didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t a mo­ron when it came to women. He could read the signs, and Dina’s clearly pointed to sex. From the way she’d touched him fre­quently, to the way her tongue had just slid across her lips, and the way she gave him so lit­tle per­sonal space as she stood next to him.

She held her hand out for his coat and when he gave it to her, she held his hand just a mo­ment longer than nec­es­sary.

They’d had sex once and it had been great. But he was try­ing to change, to show her and him­self that he was dif­fer­ent. He wouldn’t have sex with her again un­til they’d spent time get­ting to know each other bet­ter.

Re­turn­ing to his side, she placed a hand on his arm. His mus­cle twitched and her fin­gers tight­ened. Her gaze was fo­cused on his arm, and his was fo­cused on her. She pulled away and left the room.

He couldn’t af­ford to get at­tached and have her leave him. It’s why he never went for se­ri­ous re­la­tion­ships with women. Ca­sual flings? Sure. Him leav­ing first? Def­i­nitely. But Dina? Did she de­serve some­one like him? Prob­a­bly not.

“You’re think­ing too hard,” Dina said, re­turn­ing with a bot­tle of wine and two glasses. She gave him the bot­tle to open and when their fin­gers touched, he felt a jolt of elec­tric­ity arc be­tween them. Stand­ing this close to her, he could see her in­di­vid­ual eye­lashes fram­ing pupils that were wide with de­sire.

She wanted him. He wanted her. What was the prob­lem?

“I seem to think a lot around you,” he said, pour­ing the wine and clink­ing his glass against hers.

Was she al­ways this bla­tantly sex­ual? An­other rea­son why they needed to get to know each other bet­ter. She kept her gaze trained on him, took a sip, swal­lowed, and then ran her tongue once again across her lips. His groin tight­ened. Be­fore he could force his brain to fig­ure things out, she stepped to­ward him and took the glass out of his hand.

Oh God. She pressed her body against him and rose on tip­toe to kiss him, cre­at­ing a tor­tur­ous fric­tion be­tween them. His hands, which had been sus­pended in some kind of midair limbo, dropped to her hips.

Mean­while, her hands brushed against his back­side and squeezed.

He groaned, and when he opened his mouth she slipped her tongue in­side. She tasted of chardon­nay, she smelled of co­conut and he was done for. So much for wait­ing. Lift­ing her up, he car­ried her across the room, head­ing to­ward her bed­room. She wrapped her legs around his waist.

Adam leaned against the wall and all of a sud­den, her hands were ev­ery­where—his hair, his neck, his back, his chest. She nib­bled his ear and trailed kisses along his jaw. Blood rushed to his groin and he felt light­headed, a buzzing sound in his ears so loud he couldn’t think. He just knew he had to have her right here, right now.

And she seemed to agree. She fum­bled with the but­tons on his shirt, push­ing the fab­ric back and off his shoul­ders, rub­bing her fin­gers across his chest and driv­ing him mad. He low­ered her to the floor and pulled at her jeans, and she pulled at his at the same time. A mo­ment later, both pairs were down. He ran his fin­gers be­neath the waist­band of her panties, dip­ping down fur­ther and feel­ing how wet she was for him al­ready. He hard­ened painfully, his cock jump­ing against her as if of its own vo­li­tion. She quiv­ered against him and an­gled her hips to­ward him.

“Are you sure?” he ground out.

“Yes.”

That one word was all it took. He grabbed a con­dom from his wal­let, hands shak­ing as he un­wrapped it and slid it on. Us­ing the wall for sup­port, he slid into her, try­ing to go slowly, but with her grip­ping him and rock­ing against him, it was al­most im­pos­si­ble. She was so tight and her mus­cles clenched around him. His pant­ing min­gled with hers and sweat dripped down his back. God she felt good. His legs shook and he braced him­self as he plunged in­side her, deeper still. His fo­cus nar­rowed un­til all he could feel was her, all he could smell was her. She screamed her re­lease and ev­ery­thing around him went dark un­til sud­denly he was over the edge. Red and yel­low lights flashed like a hun­dred fire­works light­ing up the night sky and he roared.

When their breath­ing eased and his heart rate slowed, he low­ered him­self, with her still in his arms, to sit the floor and pulled her into his lap. She smelled of sex, co­conuts and her, and he in­haled deeply, lean­ing into her neck.

“Why didn’t we do this sooner,” he asked.

She punched his arm. “Re­ally?”

Smil­ing against her skin, he let her hair cover his face. God he loved her curls.

Her fin­gers drew small cir­cles on his back and a deep sense of peace set­tled over him.

“This is good, right?” he asked.

“This is very good.”

“I wish I had bet­ter news for you,” Ja­cob said.