My eyes snap back up, meeting hers.
She shivers once again.
“Cold?”
“Hmm.”
I shrug my jacket off and drape it over her shoulders. I let my fingers graze her arms as I pull the jacket tighter in front of her. My hands grip her hips before I even realize I’m touching her.
“Better?” I ask.
“Hmm.”
I’ve made her speechless. Although, I’m not much better. I only got one word out.
I have to take back control. I can’t let her affect me. I have to beat her at her own game.
I lick my lips.
Her mouth parts.
The air changes—she’s in a daze.
“Kiss me,” she says suddenly.
She’s lost her mind, but she doesn’t have to tell me twice.
I press my lips against hers, reveling in how incredible her soft lips feel against mine. But I’m greedy, and I want more than just the softness. I want the taste of her sweetness, the battle of her tongue with mine, the moans she makes when I make her feel alive.
This kiss is just as mind-blowing as our last kiss and so much more. This kiss isn’t about chasing demons away. This kiss is about need, desire, want. It’s about taking back what’s mine.
I don’t give a damn if Liesel is married or not. I can steal her back either way.
“Tell me to stop,” I say against her lips.
“Sss…” She doesn’t make it past the first letter before she’s kissing me again.
I smirk against her lips, slowing her kisses. As much as I would love to lose myself in this kiss, I can’t. I’m here on a mission, and I won’t let earth-shattering kisses stand in my way.
“So, you’re a cheater, then?” I ask as I pull her hips tightly against mine, pressing my hardness against her jeans.
“Huh?” she moans.
“You have an open marriage? Waylon doesn’t mind you kissing strange men?”
“What? No.”
She puts her empty hand against my chest.
“Tell me to stop,” I repeat.
She breathes hard and fast, her lips devouring over mine. She rocks back and forward, letting our hips rub before falling back.
She wants this.
She wants me.
But something is holding her back. Is she really married? Is she just dating that asshole? Does she not care about him at all?
“Sto…” She takes a deep breath. “Stop.”
“That took far too long for a married woman. Unless you don’t mind being a cheater?”
“I’m not a cheater,” she growls, getting her voice back.
“You’re the one who asked me to kiss you.” I don’t back away. My hands are still on her hips, and hers are now both on my chest, still holding the knife. But she doesn’t push me away. She lets me stay close.
“I. Am. Not. A. Cheater.”
“Then you’re not married?”
Liesel looks at me with a fierceness in her eyes. She’s about to try and use the knife on me because she’s pissed I won. That I got in her head and got me to kiss her.
Just like I knew she would, she throws her arms up, trying to strike me with the knife in the neck. But I catch her wrist and hold the knife suspended in the air between us.
Her face is locked on mine. She’s trying to be a shell. She’s trying to keep her emotions off her face, but I notice the lift of her lips in a hint of a smile before her lip quivers, and her eyes widen.
“Please,” she trembles.
My eyes search hers for answers. Why did she just flip a switch? How did she go from lust to anger to fear in three seconds?
“Get your hands off my wife,” Waylon says from behind me.
And then Liesel can’t keep the smirk off her face. It flashes for only a second. Only long enough for me to notice, but not long enough for Waylon to see it.
She got the knife to frame me.
She asked me to kiss her to force me close, so that in Waylon’s eyes, it looks like I’m attacking her.
I have a decision to make. Do I let her win—go and walk out the door? Or do I fight back?
Liesel knows that if I wanted to take down Waylon right now, I could. Did she just sign Waylon’s death sentence, all for a chance to beat me?
“We aren’t finished. I’ll let you win this round, but I still want answers. And your time is running out. You have twenty-four hours to decide if you want to finish the game here or back on my island. But remember whom you are risking if you choose to finish our game here,” I whisper so only she can hear.
I let go of her arm.
I half expect when I turn around for Waylon to have a gun pointed at my head. For him to be holding a bat, something.
Instead, he’s standing there in a suit. His graying hair is slicked back, and there is a drop of blood on his jawline from where he cut himself shaving.
“I called the police. Get out if you don’t want to spend the rest of your life in jail,” Waylon says.
I shake my head. Lawyers—they are all the same. Cocky smart-alecks who think the police will step in and save them. They don’t know that if the police showed up, they’d just look the other way as soon as I paid them off or whispered my name.
The only thing protecting Waylon right now is that I want to know who Waylon truly is to Liesel before I kill him. Whether he’s truly her husband, the love of her life, or just a man she fucks because she’s lonely. I’ll figure it out.
I don’t speak as I walk out the door like a stranger back into the night. The man isn’t worth my words.
The door slams behind me. A heaviness weighs me down as I ride the elevator down.
Wife.
Waylon called
