Stolen Lies (Fates of the Bound 2)

Lila reclined on Tristan’s couch and worked her way through the list of Natalie’s associates, her laptop warming her thighs. From time to time, she peeked at Tristan, who sat on the other end of the couch. He had been gone for the first four hours after she arrived, flitting in and out of the building, checking on the shop and Maria, then holding a couple of meetings downstairs. Now he seemed to have settled in, scrolling through a long list of messages from his spy network and inputting them into a spreadsheet on his laptop.

Even Tristan had tedious paperwork.

He’d been at it for over two hours already. Lila could have written a program in less than fifteen minutes that would have done the job for him, but she’d liked watching him go through the process. The way he cocked his head, considering the more interesting messages, the way he sighed occasionally at a particularly useless spy, the way he bit off a chuckle at something funny and turned his head, hoping he hadn’t disturbed her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him stifle yet another laugh and check her face again. She tensed as his eyes snaked across her body to focus on other things, and she longed to turn her head and watch him as he watched her.

How could he study her so completely and not even kiss her? How could he watch her with such intensity and not be

d her? How could he call them friends?

More to the point, why hadn’t she taken him? Perhaps she just needed to get him out of her system. Despite what Tristan claimed, they’d never had a friendship, and their peace was already ruined.

She had work, though, and work was far more important than satisfying her libido.

Tristan blushed suddenly, then turned back to his palm.

Had he been thinking about her? About sex?

Perhaps he hadn’t been thinking about her at all. Perhaps he had been thinking about another woman. One smarter, funnier, with more daring eyes. Or perhaps he’d just recalled the punch line to a naughty joke.

Or maybe he’d been thinking about steak.

You never knew with men.

Lila leaned back deeper into the couch, so hard her shoulders blew past comfort into pain. She’d officially lost all willpower with Tristan. His smile had talked her into staying at the shop, rather than the security office. She should have been there, working her way through the list and her militia paperwork. At least there hadn’t been much of the latter to finish. She’d blown through it all in an hour and a half.

That didn’t change the fact that she should have worked somewhere else, though.

It didn’t change the fact that she hadn’t seen Tristan the day before, and she’d barely gotten to see him after visiting the oracle.

Gods, she missed him when he wasn’t around, no matter what the oracle said he might do. Despite the fact that she should take another lover.

Tristan closed his laptop and turned his head toward her, clearing his throat. “It’s getting close to dinner. I’ll get us something to eat.”

“You might be done, but I’m not. Stop rubbing it in.”

“You’re never done.” He set his laptop on the coffee table, stood, and stretched his arms into the air like a cat. His shirt rode up, exposing his flat belly and the ridge at his hips. She had an urge to grab him, to pull him toward her, to lick it.

Lick it and other things.

Lila looked back down at the screen. She should have gone back to the compound. She’d been distracted for most of the afternoon, and Oskar would pay for it. As would the missing girls, now that they’d been added to her plate.

He tugged on his shirt and yawned. “I’m going to order us something to eat. Whether you eat or not is your choice.”

“I’m not hungry, especially for Chinese food.”

“Actually, I thought I’d order something more mundane. How about pizza?”

“Pizza? I haven’t eaten pizza…”

“Probably since the last time I ordered it for you. What’s the point of having a fancy chef if she never makes anything good?” He dug into his pocket for his palm. “Did you like what I ordered last—”

The door opened, and Dixon strolled into the room.

Tristan’s palm dangled at his thigh. Guilt flashed in his eyes. “Want some pizza? We were just going to eat.”

Dixon shook his head and shuffled to his room. He emerged a few moments later, carrying a small bag, his purple scarf wrapped around his neck.