Page 63 of Bound Lies

Fuck.

I should look away. I need to look away. But for one raw, helpless second, I don’t. I just stand there like an asshole, drinking in the sight of her bare skin.

She’s the perfect mixture of soft curves and lean muscle.

My eyes trail over her breasts, and I swallow a groan at the sight of her peaked nipples.

I want nothing more than to suck on them, to hear the sounds of pleasure she makes as I reach between her thighs.

Christ, those thighs.

She’s gorgeous, and the effect she’s having on my body is dangerous.

Every muscle is tense, and my pulse is thrumming in my ears as I let myself wonder what it would be like to spread those soft thighs apart and bury my face between them.

“Goddamn it, Riley,” I hiss through my teeth as my cock starts to thicken.

Before I do something stupid, like barge in there and throw that wet, naked body on the bed, I stalk over to the bar and pour myself a double shot of whiskey.

It burns my throat as I down it, but I welcome the feeling because I need the distraction.

I can’t let myself sit with what I just saw, or what I felt for that matter, because I’m going to snap and ruin everything.

As if pretending to be Riley’s husband isn’t complicated enough already, now I have the image of her naked body seared into my mind.

“You can’t fuck her.” I pour myself another stiff drink and down it in one gulp.

My throbbing cock thinks otherwise, but I can’t cross that line.

One kiss had me almost addicted, so I know that if I ever got the chance to taste her pussy, it could actually be the death of me.

I’m on my third drink by the time Riley appears, wearing a fitted black dress. It’s not quite as revealing as the one from the other night, but it still hugs her curves in all the right places. Her hair is up in a messy bun on the top of her head with a few little wisps falling around her face, and she’s wearing only a shimmer of gold on her eyelids that brings out the flecks of gold in her eyes.

She looks good.

Too good.

I can’t look at her because if I do, I’ll say something I’ll regret. Or worse, I won’t regret it at all.

“You ready?” I pull my phone out of my pocket and pretend to check the time.

“Yeah.”

I don’t risk glancing at her, but I can feel the shift in the air.

She was probably expecting a compliment from me, but I don’t give it to her. I can’t, no matter how badly I wish I could. So, instead, I say nothing.

We walk in silence as we make our way out of the hotel, where we’re immediately sucked into the neon-lit chaos of the Strip.

There are drunk people everywhere, laughing and yelling over the music, and sirens race past us in a blur of flashing lights. It’s a sensory overload, and I even feel a little overwhelmed as we get lost in the swarm on the way to the restaurant.

I don’t even realize I’ve reached down and taken hold of Riley’s hand until I feel her eyes on me.

I note the look of surprise in her face. “What?”

She glances down, and I do the same, and that’s when I see her small fingers intertwined with my own, and dammit does it feel right to see them there.

“I don’t want to lose you in the crowd.”