Liars and Liaisons by Sav R. Miller

21

“Little Echo.”His voice is barely a murmur, his concern quieting the ringing in my ears. But only for a moment because as soon as he pushes from the bar and the abnormally tall man at his side, rage reinvents itself in my bones.

He looks at the pair behind me. “What the hell happened?”

Aiden shrugs, the picture of nonchalance. Like he didn’t just watch me murder someone three feet from where he stood. “She said people were trespassing. Talking about breaking in and hurting…” He trails off, glancing at me to fill in the blanks since I left out the specifics on our walk back.

“You left me.” I keep my tone steady, force the wobble from where it lives in my throat. “There were people out there, and you left me to fend for myself.”

Grayson’s green eyes widen, and his brow furrows. “Who was out there?”

“I don’t know!” I screech, the sound so loud and unlike me that I don’t recognize it, even as it echoes all around us.

It’s not exactly true, but the entire room of people doesn’t need to know I’m a wanted woman.

Grayson studies me in silence for several beats, and a part of me regrets coming in without cleaning up first. I’d insisted on seeing him, as if I could make him atone for what he just forced me to do by abandoning me.

Standing here, the blood of some man dripping from me, I realize there’s no going back. No erasing the smell, the imagery, or the fucking fear.

My heart clenches violently in my chest, but I keep my chin high.

I will not cry.

As if coming to some sort of internal decision, Grayson glances at our crowd and nods toward the door. “Leave us.”

Riley looks to me for some sort of confirmation; she must see it in my unwavering stare because she eventually nods and skips to her boyfriend, who seems more than happy to sweep her from the storm brewing in here.

He must know his uncle very well.

Before they’re gone, Grayson stops his nephew with an outstretched palm. “Find Janus or Arsen and make sure whatever mess is left at the lake is cleaned up. Have them scope the perimeter for others.”

Aiden nods, and then they’re gone.

The tall man with the blue-black hair watches the two of us with an unreadable expression, and I’m struck by how much he reminds me of Kal in that aspect alone. The silent, unyielding calculation and the cold, unflappable calm he exudes. Like a soldier assessing his enemy.

Again, my heart spasms. Yearns for family.

My hands curl into fists at my sides, and the man’s handsome face remains unchanged. He nods, barely, at Grayson before excusing himself with a slight, weirdly formal bow.

Then, it’s just us, all over again.

“Are you hurt?” he asks as he approaches, his gaze roving up and down, heating me even though I’m so angry. Maybe that’s part of why I feel like I’m on fire.

My hand lifts, tingling even before it connects with his face. The sharp sting ripples up my forearm, and a pink handprint appears on his cheek.

His head whips to the side with the impact, and he closes his eyes on a slow inhale. When he turns back, he doesn’t touch the spot, and I wonder if it could even hurt a monster like him.

“Do that again, and I might think you’re coming on to me.” His gaze darkens, and it gets difficult to breathe. “I’ll ask once more. Are you hurt?”

“No, nothing—” I blow out a long breath. “Nothing happened.”

“You attacked someone, unprovoked?”

“No, I—” My voice wavers, and I pause, swallowing over the dryness in my mouth. “I didn’t let it get that far.”

He stops a few inches from me, his eyes hot, like two recently forged emeralds. “For someone like you to jump so quickly to defend… makes me think you were waiting for an ambush.”

I gnaw on the inside of my cheek and lift one shoulder. “Why do you think I needed money?”

A muscle in his jaw jumps, and his face tightens. After a moment, he reaches for the hem of my shirt and roughly tugs it up my stomach. My abs contract with the ghost of his fingers over my skin, but I don’t allow myself to dwell.

Instead, I shift away slightly. Enough for him to notice.

“You’re angry with me,” he states, his gaze hooded. He continues pulling the shirt up, exposing my breasts in my yellow bra, and then it drags up my neck, my face, before he frees me of it.

“I have every right to be.”

“You do. For more than just this.” He takes a step back, sizing me up. “I should be making you tell me what happened and checking out that scene for myself, but… what do you need from me?”

It’s not an apology, so I don’t nod or give him any indication of forgiveness. I just stare straight at his chest, the undone buttons of his shirt and the hint of the tattoo visible on his shoulder.

“Violet.”

A low, sinister hum starts buzzing beneath the surface of my skin, like a million fireflies trying to escape. It’s quickly replaced with the fear from earlier, the uncertainty I’ve skirted around since I was a kid. Since the first time I got a notice from my father’s debt collectors, telling me that they’d come for my head if I didn’t abide by their exact terms and conditions.

My stomach rolls, and I press my lips together. I straighten my back, hyperaware of the fact that I’m practically naked right now before him.

I’ve been undressed more, at his request and otherwise, but for some reason, this feels different. More real, maybe because I’m standing here, initiating contact. Like the first night we met, when I thought he was someone else entirely.

“Hazard pay.”

He tilts his head back, the look on his face part surprise and part molten desire. “What qualifies?”

“I want what you promised.”

Smugness takes over his features. “Ah. And how do you want it?”

I swallow, my pulse flickering to life between my legs. Pointing at the green velvet sofa across the room, I press my palm to his chest and start to head in that direction. He backs up with me, allowing me to guide the movements.

At the last second, the massive instrument next to the fireplace catches my attention. I veer to the left, shoving him toward the piano bench; as soon as the backs of his calves touch the wooden seat, he plants his ass there, never once taking his eyes off me.

“I’ve increased my price.”

He smiles—smiles. “Good. You’re worth far more than a hundred grand.”

For some reason, I still hesitate. Glance down at myself, the blood on my skin and the dirt from the garden. “I should go clean up.”

“On the contrary.” His arms lift, hands reaching around to grab my ass. He squeezes, hard, yanking me closer. “I like you as is.”

My own arms hang limply at my sides, all the bravado from minutes ago fleeing my system. I feel his breath on the hollow of my throat and can’t help the tension that threads through me.

Before I can travel too far into my head, he grips and hoists me into his arms, spinning so the dynamic shifts, and I’m pinned on the piano beneath him. He braces a hand on the keyboard cover while the other comes up to my shoulder, sliding my bra strap down.

“Lean back.”

I go slowly, trembling, until I’m bent awkwardly at an uncomfortable angle. The wood is hard on my ass, and I’m about to give up on the discomfort when the stool scoots audibly across the floor, and he uses both hands to spread my knees apart.

Even though I’m still covered by the sheer fabric of my thong, I feel wholly exposed. In a way I’ve never been before.

More so when he leans in, dragging his nose directly up the center of my pussy. His tongue prods at the lace, and I clench my teeth, hoping he can’t tell how wet I am already.

“Up.” His fingers tap my hips, and I lift accordingly, allowing him room to uncover the keys and slide the thong down my thighs. “A-plus for the sight of your pink pussy alone.”

The grading I asked for.

A stuttered breath escapes me. I stare up at the ceiling, through the skylights that showcase the stars outside. “I don’t know how much control I really have over that.”

He guides my hips back down, and my ass hits the cool piano keys, making an abrupt tune cut through the quiet air around us.

“The universe created you with me in mind,” he says in a low, thick voice. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were sent by the stars themselves. Plucked from the constellations and tossed into the path of someone needing guidance.”

I tilt my chin down, eyeing him warily. “Grayson…”

“I know; I know.” His fingers trail up my thighs, across my pelvis, and dip between my legs. “You’re going back to him. I’m just your temporary employer. I’m too old, too grumpy, and too cranky to make you really happy.”

On the last syllable, he slides a single finger into me, not even pausing to make sure he can before doing it. I wonder if I look as soaked as I feel.

“You don’t want him to know about how you think of me more often these days. Or what happened outside. Those are little secrets for me, yes?”

Yes. Secrets that will die here and here alone.

“Close your eyes, dirty girl. Let’s see what kind of music you make.”

I’m tense as I wait for more, my body primed with adrenaline, a tiny spike of fear, and all the passion I’ve been denying myself for weeks. The piano is rough on my joints, too hard beneath my elbows, but I don’t mind when the promise of what’s to come is so great.

A soft melody hums in the air, and it takes me a second to realize it’s not my imagination. Grayson’s free hand floats over the white and black keys beside me, wringing magic from the instrument in a slow, haunting tune.

It lifts up in the air, hitting the ceiling and then seeming to rain back down. The romantic, melancholic melody cascades across our skin, reverberating in my chest. I close my eyes against it, letting the music caress my soul as he dips his head and puts his mouth on me.

The first swipe of his tongue against my swollen, dripping flesh sends a full-body shiver through my limbs. That one finger pumps slowly, its tip pressing and kneading my inner walls, as he laves over my clit with the fervency of a starved man.

It’s as if he’s afraid he won’t ever get this opportunity again and he wants to engrave each sense into his memory for later.

Each stroke is lazy, each lick slovenly. My knees quake, reflexively trying to clamp together, and he uses his elbows to keep me wide open. On display for him and only him, the flames from the fire painting my skin orange instead of red.

“Don’t even dream of getting shy on me now,” he mutters against me, the vibrations making me pulse with wanton need. “This is all I’ve thought about since the night we met. My mouth on you, your eyes on me, those delicious noises you make when you’re close.”

“Oh God.”

A pause. Then, “I don’t think he can hear you yet.”

Fireworks sizzle across the surface of my skin, and the moan that falls from my lips is an octave higher in volume. His tongue twists, then flicks, making my back arch. My hands grow slick, grasping at the wood, the keys, his shoulders. Anything to keep me on earth.

“It doesn’t take much, does it, dirty girl? You’ve been dying to soak me.”

When he adds a second finger, it pushes a strangled noise from my mouth. My eyes pop open, my head snapping up as embarrassment courses through my bloodstream.

Grayson just meets my gaze from between my legs, continuing his ravishment. “Gonna watch me when you come?”

I’m beyond words at this point. Everything from the lake expunges from my mind, and all I can think about, all I can feel, is how fucking good this is. The fact that I waited so long to let someone do this blows my mind; I gave up religion long ago, but I could live the rest of my life like this, with Grayson James worshipping at my altar.

“Of course you are because you want that A. And the only way you’re gonna get it is if I see those beautiful brown, smoky quartz eyes when you ride my tongue to oblivion.”

A third finger plunges into me without warning, and then he’s curling, stroking something that makes me feel full and wound tight, all at once.

“You,” he pants, licking and stroking in tandem, “are so”—lick, stroke—“fucking sweet.”

It’s that single word, the reminder, that does me in. My mouth falls open and locks on a broken gasp, and my hips buck up, seeking more of his touch, his words, his hunger. The sound that shreds through my throat is unholy, something caught between anguish and a plea for more, more, more until I’m chanting exactly that, my hands threading through his hair, as if I might be able to extract maximum pleasure that way.

He keeps his lips on me as he pins my hips to the piano with his forearm, my cries joining the macabre tune that comes only from playing a handful of keys at once. His free hand snakes up my sternum, skating between my breasts and covering my mouth with a firmness that startles me.

“I know, dirty girl. I know it feels good, and you just want to tell me. You have no clue how badly I want to hear you, but we do have company in the next room. Be a good girl and stay quiet, and I’ll give you your real reward later.”

On instinct, my teeth sink into his flesh. I bite down with as much force as I can muster, not even thinking when it happens because of all the sensations flooding my body at once. My eyes roll back, and the tang of copper reappears on my taste buds.

Eyes wide, I search his gaze for signs of anger or retaliation, but he just keeps going. Keeps sucking and plunging and eating like I’m his last meal.

Tentatively, my teeth retract, and my tongue sweeps across his skin. Cleaning, tasting… savoring. I’m barely thinking about anything but how primal, how wrong all of this is when the orgasm shoots through me.

If this is what wrong feels like, I don’t want to be right ever again.