Page 34 of Tangled Lies

“Jett? Thank you.”

There was a wrinkle in his brow when he studied me.

“For what?”

I smiled up at him, a true smile.

“For seeing me.”

The way his eyes seemed to grow more intense, I tried to duck out of his reach, but he just held me tighter and pulled me into his body.

“Pretty girl, don’t thank me yet. I’m no better than the devil, greedy to claim what should have always been ours.”

His face was a little closer.

“But, pretty girl, if I couldn’t see you, I couldn’t see how fucking hot you look in these dresses. How about we see how they look pooled around your ankles?”

I tried to push him away, feeling a sudden need to put distance between me and the intense heat roaring to life inside of me. He held me tighter and I was trapped. Jett leaned in, slow enough I could watch his approach. Slow enough I knew what this was, and instead of fighting him, I closed my eyes and waited.

He was going to kiss me. I knew he was going to kiss me.

Except when nothing happened, I blinked my eyes open and flinched at how close he was.

“Margaux, did you think I was going to kiss you?”

My jaw dropped without me meaning for it to.

“What? No. I just...” I took a breath and narrowed my eyes at the asshole. “Fine. Whatever. What were you looking for that you had to invade my personal bubble? Hm? ”

He was so close I could smell the mint of his breath and feel every single breath against my lips.

“You’re not really as sweet as you seem, are you?”

There was no room between us for me to even cross my arms over my chest.

“Who ever said I was sweet? I just take care of my things, Margaux.”

His fingers danced along my cheek as he pushed a strand of my hair back behind my ear, and suddenly my lungs forgot to work. I didn’t know why I ever associated sweet with him. More like a troublemaker.

“Pretty girl, I’d gladly taste you. Something tells me your pussy will be the sweetest.”

I shivered when his hand traced over my back. He’d found another scar that had long since healed, a reminder of my uncle.

“This dress won’t work, Margaux.” He traced the scar lightly. “Maybe we will get matching tattoos sometime. Something to cover your pretty little scars. Sometime you should tell me what your uncle did to you. I want stories, and then I’ll help write the ending.”

I didn’t know what to say, not when I was fighting an urge to pull him into me and make me forget every single scar, and not just the physical ones.

“He wanted to break me,” I said as I fell into the intoxication that was Jett. I couldn’t stop myself. I wanted to touch him. He didn’t push away my hand as I traced my fingers down his neck. I licked my lips against the need to taste him.

“Do you want to break me, pretty boy?”

I flicked my gaze back to his.

“Margaux, breaking you would be too easy. I’d rather see the crazy locked inside of you freed.”

He grabbed my wrists in one hand and lifted them over my head.

“Something tells me blood red is your color.”