A Lie for a Lie (All In 1)

“Is that an invitation, a challenge, or a statement of fact?”

She settles her palms on my chest, and for a moment I think she’s keeping me at bay, until she says, “Can it be all three?”

“I’ll accept the invitation and the challenge, but I don’t think it’s a statement of fact. Maybe you see yourself differently than I do.” I brush her hair over her shoulders, appreciating the slight tremor and her sharp inhalation as I move into her personal space.

“You’re blinded by the boobs.”

“They’re pretty incredible.” I ease a hand up her side. “But then, so is the rest of you.”

She steps into me and tips her head up. I don’t need more encouragement than that. I’ve kissed her on the cheek countless times in the past few weeks, but this isn’t the same. This is the first time I get to kiss her—really kiss her—since we said goodbye in Alaska.

I caress the edge of her jaw and sweep my thumb along the contour of her bottom lip, enjoying the anticipation before I drop my head and touch my lips to hers. A million memories come flooding back at her soft whimper and the bite of her nails against the back of my neck. And just like every single other kiss that’s had the intention of becoming more—and even the ones that didn’t—it starts out sweet. She tastes the same, feels the same—but better. She feels like mine and home and love.

I’m acutely aware that Kody isn’t here to act as an adorable cockblocker—that we’re very, very much alone—and all the tension that’s been driving me crazy seems to funnel right down into my pants.

Lainey pushes her hips into mine and moans softly. Her fingers slide into my hair and latch on, and her tongue sweeps out to tangle with mine. Two or three velvety swirls quickly devolve into no-holds-barred making out. Like we’re teenagers who dropped Ecstasy and can’t get enough of each other.

Lainey pulls at my shirt, freeing it from my dress pants, and her hands slide up and under, roaming over my back. Then she tugs at my belt buckle, freeing the clasp.

I break the kiss, and she freezes, fingers dipping into the waistband of my pants, close to my insanely hard erection. We stare at each other for a few seconds, panting.

“Bedroom?” I ask.

“Floor, couch, kitchen counter. I don’t really care.”

I pick her up and wrap her legs around my waist, and we resume kissing. I’d like to say there’s some finesse once we get to the bedroom, but that would be a lie. I drop her on the edge of the mattress and follow behind her as she scoots back.

Lainey’s skirt bunches up, exposing the satin-and-lace panties underneath. Ones I’d like to take off with my teeth. Which then becomes part of my master plan, if I can get us to slow down from Mach 4 million to somewhere along the lines of Mach 2 or 3.

Lainey fumbles with the button on my pants while I loosen my tie and yank it gracelessly over my head. I unfasten the first few buttons on my shirt, and she drags the zipper down, the metallic vibrations making my cock twitch.

There’s zero teasing involved as Lainey reaches into my boxer briefs, wraps her gorgeous, soft hand around the shaft, and sets me free. She’s not even finished the first stroke before she leans in and wraps her lips around the head, sucking gently.

I groan several filthy expletives, which makes her both blush and smile around my cock. And then she takes me deeper, stroking with her hand and her mouth. She pops off for a second—likely to pull the freaking move that always makes my balls feel like they’re going to explode. The one I haven’t experienced in more than a year but remember so vividly it’s often the image-sensation combo I pull up when I’m in self-gratification mode—so I take the opportunity to pull her dress over her head.

And then she’s back to sucking me off.

I fumble with the clasp of her bra, highly distracted but very intent on getting her as naked as I am. It slides down her arms and drops to the bed between us. “God, I missed everything about you.”

She pops off long enough to say, “Same,” and then she’s right back at it.

Once her boobs are free, my stamina takes a terrible nosedive—and I issue a warning that I’m about to come. And as soon as I do, it’s like I’ve finally jumped off the sex speed train, able to focus again.

“Thank you. That was amazing.” I lay her out on the bed, taking my time now that 90 percent of my blood flow is no longer pooled below my waist. I cup her boobs, so full and lush, and pepper them with kisses.