Page 14 of The Lies Of Omission (Without Limits #3)

SIN

“ Y ou’re spiraling.”

Thalia didn’t look up from the stack of receipts she was sorting, but the edge in her voice cut through me anyway.

I slumped against the bar, groaning. “I’m not spiraling.”

“Sin, you’re pacing. You only pace when you’re trying to decide if you’re going to kiss someone or burn the building down.”

“Can’t I do both?”

She shot me a look, then went back to her receipts.

“It’s driving me insane,” I muttered. “He’s hot and cold. Fire and ice. One second he’s looking at me like he wants to fuck me into a wall and the next he’s acting like I’m a bad PR headline.”

“Maybe you are.”

“Rude.”

“Honest,” she corrected. “Look, I know the type. Hell, I dated the type. Theo’s built his whole world on keeping himself under lock and key. And you…” She gave me a pointed look. “You’re a crowbar. Hell, a sledgehammer trying to smash his walls down.”

I smiled. “Thank you.”

“Not a compliment. Be careful, Sin. You keep pushing, and he’s going to break. And it might not be the kind of break you can fix.”

“With my magical dick?”

“Be serious for once. You can’t mess with people like it’s a sport.”

I didn’t answer—because reflected in the mirror behind her, through the glass wall that faced the terrace, I saw him.

Theo was moving with purpose, suit sharp, shoulders stiff, mouth in a grim line. But I noticed the cracks. The tension in his jaw. The way his hands curled into fists at his sides.

He was coming undone.

I slipped away from the bar before I could talk myself out of it, following the echo of his footsteps—clipped and sharp, like he was slicing through his own nerves as he headed toward the spa.

He turned the corner and froze. Our eyes met in a glass display. He didn’t speak. Didn’t scowl or command the space like he usually did. He just stood there. Pale. Tight-jawed. Like he didn’t know if he was about to bolt or collapse.

I stepped up behind him, slowly inching my hand down his arm until my fingers teased the back of his hand with the lightest touch.

His brow furrowed, his mask beginning to slip. “What are you doing?”

“You know what I’m doing.”

“I don’t have time for this.”

“You never do,” I said softly. “Yet here you are.”

“You think this is a game?—”

“No,” I cut in. “I think you’re lying. To yourself. To me.”

He flinched.

“Tell me, Theo,” I whispered, stepping closer, melding my front to his back. “What do you want?”

“I want you to move.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then why won’t you look at me?”

He spun around, breaking the electrifying contact. His gaze snapped to mine—furious, conflicted, lost. I smiled.

“Say it.”

“There’s nothing to say.”

“Say. It .”

His hands twitched at his sides like he didn’t know whether to shove me away or pull me in. I closed the final space between us, our chests almost touching, and inhaled his expensive cologne, sandalwood, saffron and leather, and felt it zing through my lungs like a hit of coke.

“You want me,” I breathed. “You dream about me. You ache for me. You hate it, but you can’t stop.”

“Enough,” he rasped. Tension radiated off his body, a coiled spring ready to explode.

“No.”

“You don’t understand?—”

“I do. You’ve built your life on control. And I’m the one thing you can’t. I’m not sure you really want to. You like that I’m impulsive. Chaotic. Unpredictable.”

His eyes were wild now. Terrified. He resisted the irrefutable pull between us for a split second. I thought he was going to walk away, but instead, he snapped. He reached out, meaning to push me away, but the second his fingers brushed my chest, his whole body stilled.

He inhaled sharply. Like he was breathing for the first time in days and grabbed me. A pain-filled groan clawed its way out of his chest.

I surged forward, decimating the remaining molecules between us and kissed him hard enough our teeth clicked. He gasped, and I swallowed it, dragging him backward into the wall, into the shadows, into me.

This kiss wasn’t sweet.

It was carnage.

Months of tension exploded between us. I felt him come apart in my hands. Hands that clutched at my shirt, my hair, my hips. His mouth moved over mine with a desperation that made my head spin. His tongue licked into my mouth with a force that made me whimper.

He rolled his hips against mine, a broken moan tearing from his throat.

I couldn’t wait anymore. Kissing him wasn’t enough.

I needed more. I wanted to know the weight of his cock on my tongue.

What his cum tasted like. What he looked like when he surrendered to the pleasure I’d wreck his body and mind with.

He was looking at me like I was the only thing anchoring him to earth.

But I wanted him to see galaxies and soar among the stars.

I pushed him—guiding him backward until the linen closet was behind him.

Without breaking our fevered kiss, tongues dueling, I fumbled for the handle and opened the door, pushing him inside. He didn’t resist. Not really.

When the door clicked shut, sealing us inside that cramped, dark cocoon, he slumped back against the shelves like it was holding up the last pieces of him.

“Sin,” he breathed—one last protest, one last lie. His voice cracked under the strain. “Don’t…”

But I was already sinking. Dropping to my knees in front of him, I looked up and smiled like a wolf scenting blood.

“You don’t have to want me,” I said softly, my voice like velvet over broken glass. “Just don’t lie about wanting this.”

He didn’t stop me.

Not when I reached for his belt and unbuckled it with steady fingers.

Not when I dragged his zipper down, the rasp of it loud in the hush of the linen closet.

Not when I palmed the thick line of his erection beneath his boxer-briefs, feeling the heat, the ache, the pulse that betrayed everything his mouth wouldn’t say. He hissed through his teeth, fists clenched at his sides.

I leaned in and nuzzled him, dragging my nose up the rigid length of his thick shaft through the cotton, breathing in the heady mix of sweat, skin, and need. My tongue flicked out, toying with the dark, wet patch at the tip where he was already leaking for me.

He jolted like I’d shocked him.

“ Fuck, that feels—Jesus Christ,” he groaned, his head tipping back to hit the shelf with a thud. Even in the dim light, I saw his throat work around a swallow, Adam’s apple bobbing as I latched onto him through the fabric, sucking hard, slow, teasing.

“You haven’t felt anything yet,” I murmured against him, letting my breath ghost over the soaked cotton.

One of his hands lifted like he was going to stop me—then trembled, hovered, faltered—and finally sank into my curls.

He didn’t push. He pulled. Drew me back to him like he needed it—me—more than air. I was happy to oblige.

“I’m gonna suck your brain out through your dick,” I whispered, biting his skin lightly just above the waistband. “You won’t be able to walk when I’m done with you.”

“Less talking,” he whimpered, the sound frayed and desperate. “More…”

His words devolved into a guttural moan when I pushed up his shirt and licked down the V of his hips, dragging my tongue across his skin like I was mapping him. Claiming him.

He was trembling.

Breathless.

Wrecked.

I hooked my fingers into his waistband and pulled his briefs down slowly, savoring the moment his thick length came into view. I tucked his boxers below his heavy balls, his cock slapped against his abs, smearing a sticky trail of precum across his skin.

My gaze met his. “Tell me to stop.”

He didn’t. He couldn’t .

His hands flew back and latched onto the shelf like he needed to brace for impact when I took his silken skin in my hand.

His head hit the shelf again, harder this time.

And then he was gasping, helpless, already unraveling before I even took him in my mouth as I worked him over from root to tip with slow languid strokes.

“Sin…p-please.”

My thumb rolled over the crown, swiping up the bead of precum from his slit. Theo moaned as I brought it to my mouth and licked it off.

“F-fuck that’s so hot.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet.”

I winked as I wrapped my lips around him and sucked him in deep, steady, deliberate. I took him all the way to the back of my throat in one go, moaning as I swallowed around him. Not having a gag reflex came in handy when I wanted to blow my partners’ minds and rewire their neural pathways.

Theo choked on a cry, knees threatening to buckle when I squeezed his balls and rolled them in my hand. My cheeks hollowed as I sucked up his length until only the tip was resting on my lips. I dipped my tongue into his slit, pulling guttural sounds from his parted lips.

Then sucked on just the crown, my tongue paying special attention to that sensitive spot just below the head. Never taking my eyes off his. The flush on his cheeks, pupils blown out, swallowing the green fire that burned in them.

“Oh god. Oh God.”

I used my hands to hold his hips still, but he kept twitching, trying to thrust, to fuck into the heat of my mouth like he didn’t know how to stay still. I didn’t let him. This wasn’t for him to control. It was my turn to show him how amazing it could be to surrender and give himself over to me.

I worshipped him. Took my time. Adjusting what I was doing as I watched him.

Learned the exact flick of my tongue that made him hiss through his teeth.

The way his thighs trembled when I swallowed deeper, burning my nose in the neat thatch of hair at the base of his gorgeous dick.

The wrecked little noise he made when I pulled back just to tease the underside of his tip with soft, fast licks.

“This isn’t foreplay,” I murmured between strokes. “It’s war.”

I swallowed him deep again, pushing past the thick stretch until tears burned the backs of my eyes and my lungs ached for air. My throat tightened around him as I forced myself to hold him there, swallowing softly, letting the spasms make him shake.