Page 139 of Beautiful Lies

His mouth curves, wicked and sure with the kind of smile that promises I’m not ready for what’s coming next.

“Knox…” My voice thins.

He leans in, forearms braced on the counter, gaze locked to mine. “Finish your wine, love,” he murmurs. “Then I’ll show you.”

The air shifts, thickening with something dangerous and delicious. I grip the stem of my glass just to stay grounded and drink.

His smile widens when I drain the last of the wine, and he takes the glass from me.

Circling the counter, he makes his way to me, unhurried. He stops in front of me, the moonlight carving shadows along the lines of his body.

“What exactly are you going to do to me?” My voice breaks, my throat thick with arousal.

Knox tilts his head, studying me like he’s deciding exactly where to take me apart first, then, with an easy grin, he picks me up and sets me on the counter. “This. I’m going to take advantage of having the house to ourselves.”

He hooks his fingers in the hem of my camisole, his eyes dragging down my body like he’s unwrapping something sacred.

My breath hitches, and my mind dissolves with the brush of his fingers over my skin.

The fabric lifts, grazing over my chest, and the night air kisses my skin in its place.

“Arms up,” he murmurs.

The command vibrates straight through me.

I obey. God, I obey so easily it scares me, but I’m too far gone to care.

Knox slides the camisole over my head in one smooth pull. I’m not wearing a bra, so my bare breasts are exposed to the air.

Without breaking eye contact, he tosses the top somewhere behind him, then his hands skim down my sides, stopping at the waistband of my shorts.

His thumb drifts along the band, teasing more heat from me. I tremble from the lulling effect.

“You’re shaking, love,” he says softly, almost like he’s proud of it.

“I’m not.” My voice betrays me instantly.

He smiles, slow and sinful, devastating my nerves. “Yes, you are. And I’ve barely touched you. How will you handle all the filthy things I plan to do to this body?”

Holy shit.

We’ve been in bed all day. He’s taken me all sorts of ways, yet this… it feels like the first time.

Knox starts to peel my shorts down inch by inch, like he’s savoring the process more than the destination. Slowly, he drags them down my thighs, his gaze following every inch of skin he reveals, hungry in a way that makes my pulse spike.

When he finally pulls them off, he takes off my panties, too, and my pumps.

He steps back just enough to look at me sitting here, naked on the counter under the moonlight like some offering to the gods.

“Perfect,” he murmurs. “Every inch of you. Now, to drink.”

He reaches past me for the wine bottle, his arm brushing my bare hip; the contact sends heat racing up my spine.

When he straightens, he’s holding the bottle loosely by the neck.

My breath shakes as I realize what he’s about to do. He said he was going to drink the wine off me. He wasn’t joking.

He steps between my knees, spreading them with a gentle, possessive nudge until I’m completely open to him.