The Little Lies (The Great Hexpectations Series Book 1) by Marie F. Crow
Author:Marie F. Crow [Crow, Marie F.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kingston Publishing Company
Published: 2021-02-21T22:00:00+00:00
He moves as if at any moment I may strike. Heâs treating me with caution, never turning his back to me, keeping his eyes locked with mine as he walks away from me. I follow him into the living room still stained with his blood. Like a ghost of a perfume, the copper scent is still dancing in the air.
âThat rage youâre feeling,â he tells me, keeping his voice low, âis the rage from the witches yesterday. You brought it all home like a used coat, wearing it and now they are wearing you.â
Somewhere, deep in what was once the rational side of me, this makes sense. The part of me awash with emotions, too abundant to pluck apart, ignores the logic, embracing only the feelings I am having with gleeful anticipation of whatâs to come. They care only for the wreckage and the restoration.
âYou should have been taught how to ground, to remove all that baggage, but you werenât. Or maybe you were,â he shifts his words when my eyebrow does a warning lift, âbut just not to the degree to handle all this. We have two choices here, my littlest, deadly witch. Iâm really hoping you pick door number two. Door number one wonât be as much fun for me.â
âWhy is it always about you?â a cold octave of my voice asks. âIt always comes back to you.â
âJust a lucky guy like that,â he teases, daring the embers to keep feeding the flames inside of me.
âWhatâs door number one?â I hear myself ask.
âThatâs where I miss part of my body again, and as you can see,â he says as he slips the dark grey cotton shirt over his head, âitâs a rather nice body.â
Even as deep as I am in this pit, my stomach tightens in agreement. My breath rolls from my mouth slowly with my eyes following his hands. With an expertise heâs learned long ago, he trails just the tips of his fingers over his smooth abs before resting them on the top of his black jeans. I watched all of it yearning for his hands to keep going.
âAsk me about door number two, Harper.â
His voice tightens things low in my body. My breathing has quickened, lifting my chest with each breath as if thereâs not enough air in the room for us both. The rage I was feeling is drifting towards a different delicacy. Itâs still red hot, but fed by a different type of fire.
Without any verbal prompting, those agile fingers unhook the button at the top of his jeans. The zipper seems agonizingly slow. Tooth by tooth the metal bondage slips apart, but he keeps it tightly clasped, unwilling to allow me to see more than he wants me to see.
âAsk me about door number two, Harper,â he repeats.
I hear his breath catching between his words. The sound of his labored breath reluctantly pulls my eyes to his. Their dark blue shade paints his desires. The way he unconsciously licks his lips coaxes me closer.
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