Page 69 of Wretched Lies

“Do you have any weapons on you?” I ask, my tone cold and impersonal.

Confusion skitters across her face. “No! I’m not about to attack you, Reid.”

I lean closer, bringing my gaze level with hers. Her warm breath hits my face in steady pants. “You expect me to believe that with your track record?”

She rests her hands on my hips, her fingers hooking into my belt – a belt that holds a holstered gun. “I would never hurt you.”

I stare at her impassively. “Are you wearing a tracker? Or a wire?”

Her gaze hardens. “No.”

My jaw tenses. “I don’t believe you.”

“Reid, I don’t know what risks I might pose to you and your brothers in the future, but the danger isn’t imminent. In this moment, I’m not a threat,” she says, her pitch rising because I’m shaking my head before she’s even finished.

“Sorry, Quinn, but I can’t take your word for that.”

Her fingers pull against the hooks of my combat pants, but I don’t let her bring our bodies into contact. I’m surprised she hasn’t already noticed how hard I am. “Have I reached for your gun?” she asks. “No!”

I press my fingers harder into the doorframe,keeping them off her for now. My biceps ripple with tension. “And what does that prove?”

“Exactly what it looks like! Whatever happens, I won’t pull a gun on you again.”

I run the tip of my tongue over my upper lip. Quinn follows with her eyes. “Your hand is on my belt. You could still reach for my weapon before I had the chance to stop you.”

“I could but I won’t.” She scowls at me. “If you’re that worried, take it off.”

“Maybe I want to test you.”

“A test that could end with a bullet in your head? You want to take that risk?” she asks, exasperated. When I simply keep staring, she answers her own question. “Except it’s not a risk, is it? You damn well know I won’t use it.”

“Correct. But you’re not in the clear yet, Quinn. I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to strip search you.”

“I’m not wearing a damn tracker! And if you think… If you…” She stutters to a stop as my words sink in. “A strip search?”

“Yep.”

Quinn gives a hard tug on my belt hoops. “Asshole,” she hisses.

I think I might be in love with the way she scowls at me. “Are you resisting? Do I need to restrain you?”

“Wouldn’t that make it difficult to undress me?”

I straighten up and pull her hands from my belt. “You’re right, we’ll save that for later,” I reply as I take hold of her wrists and raise her arms. “Keep your hands over your head where I can see them.”

“Fine,” she says, with mock indignation now. “It looks like I’m at your mercy.”

Quinn keeps her hands raised, but she squirms when I trail my fingers down her arms. I trace the curve of her breasts, my thumbs stroking her nipples through the cotton of her dress before I start unbuttoning the front. When I stoop to undo the last buttons, my lips almost brush hers, but it’s her neck I kiss.

I draw apart her dress, and my tongue trails down the valley between her breasts, continuing down to her belly button. I hold onto her hips as I trail kisses lower. Quinn watches me.

“Is there anything you’d like to declare?” I ask.

Her eyes are hooded. “Just hurry up and do your job.”

I press my tongue against the triangle of lace covering her pussy, and Quinn responds by arching her back. “These panties are soaking. I’m afraid I’m going to have to take them as evidence.”

As I unthread them from her legs, I take off her pumps too. Her stance widens as my hands glide up her inner thighs. My mouth is on her again, the tip of my tongue parting her until I settle on her swollen clit. I draw lazy circles around it, then flick it hard enough to make Quinn cry out.