Tempted by Deception (Deception Trilogy #2) by Rina Kent

His long legs cross over each other as he motions at his phone in his hand. “You called me?”

At first, I don’t believe what I’m seeing. I think it’s another sick play of my imagination. That this is the nightmare and the one from earlier is reality.

I dig my nails in my wrist and release a sigh of relief when pain rushes to the surface.

Without thinking, I scramble out of bed. Then I cry out, stumbling over the sheets when burning pain explodes in my ass.

Holy shit. That hurts.

Adrian is beside me in a second, grabbing me by the arm to stop me from falling.

I hold on to his forearm as I regain my footing and study his chest and side, making sure that it was indeed a nightmare.

“Take it easy, Lenochka. We don’t want you to hurt those talented legs.” His voice holds mild amusement.

My lips part at the fact that for the first time, I didn’t think about my obsession with keeping my legs safe in my haste to make sure he was okay.

That’s when the current situation dawns on me. “You’re…here.”

“Isn’t that obvious?”

“But you always leave in the mornings.”

“I don’t have work early today.”

“Oh.” Is that why he was leaving early all along? Or is this only another excuse?

“Oh isn’t a word. Use actual ones.”

I blush at the obvious way he’s openly checking my nakedness. I find myself watching him, too, the way his muscles are taut to perfection or how the fine hairs travel to the waist of his boxer briefs.

“What…” I swallow. “What were you doing?”

“Push-ups.”

The sweat makes sense, but I still can’t force my gaze from him. Adrian has physical perfection that’s so different from what I’ve witnessed before. I’m used to seeing models and dancers who don’t shy away from removing their clothes and changing in semi-public places. But that type of beauty is pretty—aesthetic, even. Adrian’s rugged, harsh, and comes with an edge that’s complemented by his calm yet ruthless personality.

“Why did you call me?”

I force my gaze to slide up to his face. “Huh?”

His lips twitch in what resembles a smile. “The phone call, Lia.”

“Uh…nothing.”

“People don’t make phone calls for nothing.”

I rack my brain for something because I really don’t want to tell him I was on the verge of hyperventilating due to a visceral nightmare I had about him.

“Lia…” It’s a single word, but the warning is clear. Adrian is a damn dictator sometimes, I swear. He doesn’t tolerate having his questions ignored and will keep demanding an answer until I finally give it.

“I was going ask what you’re bringing tonight for dinner,” I blurt.

“I can send you whatever you like, but I probably won’t be able to make it.”

I fight the tug of disappointment that sinks to the bottom of my stomach.

Adrian raises a brow. “Aren’t you going to ask me why?”

“I don’t care,” I say with so much stubbornness, it leaves even me stunned.

“As you wish.” He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me against his chest. My tender nipples harden against his skin and I suck in a fractured breath through my parted lips.

Will this pull between us ever end? Will there ever be a day where I’ll be in Adrian’s vicinity and not wish to be closer?

“You didn’t have a nightmare last night,” he murmurs.

That’s because I had it this morning.

I frown. “How do you know I have nightmares? Wait…you watch me when I sleep?”

“I do.”

My mouth opens, and when it finds no words to say, it closes again. It shouldn’t be a surprise since he cleans me up every night, but I dislike that he studies me in my ugliest form.

“You know, for someone who claims not to be a stalker, you have obvious stalkerish behavior, Adrian.”

“A stalker would never openly admit to watching you sleep. If anything, they’d keep it a secret for as long as possible.”

I narrow my eyes on him. “You’re still a stalker.”

“If you say so.”

“You really don’t care, do you?”

“No, and neither should you, Lenochka. The world means nothing if you decide it doesn’t.”

“I’m not you, Adrian. I care.”

“Why would you when it’d only hurt you?” His hand glides in circles on the small of my back, eliciting shudders from my skin. “You’re better than that.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do.” A strange look passes in his eyes. It’s brief and quickly disappears as he says, “Since when did you start to have nightmares?”

“No particular date. Everyone has them.”

“Not like you. They seem more…raw.”

“It’s because they are. Sometimes, it takes me long minutes to differentiate between reality and a nightmare. Sometimes, what I have a nightmare about comes true.” My lips tremble at that, recalling how he was shot by Luca. Is that also something that will happen in the future?

“I presume this started a long time ago?”