Empire of Lies - Whitney G. Page 0,83
glass chessboard set up and waiting for me on the coffee table. Freshly shaven and looking even sexier than he did yesterday, he walks over to me as I step into the living room. Then he hands me a cup of coffee, silently asking me to play.
It’s the first time since he walked away from me that we’ve been in the same room together, the first time that the thick sexual tension between us has finally reached its peak. I’ve wanted nothing more than to leave my bed in the middle of the night and join him on the couch, to let him fuck away the past three weeks of pain, but I’ve held back.
I refuse to give in first.
Setting down the How to Adjust to Life in Switzerland book, I take a seat and make the first move. Two spaces up for a white pawn.
He moves a black pawn one space, and within four plays, he’s moving his knights—letting me know that he’s not playing to be nice. He’s playing to win.
He’s also attempting to use this match to get the upper-hand and get me to speak to him again.
Or, to give into all the tension and let him fuck me…
From the way he gazes at me in between moves, it’s hard for me to look away and stay focused on the game. His green eyes lock on mine whenever I pick up a piece, his mouth slowly parts whenever I bite my bottom lip, and my body is slowly begging to be directed under his command. And he knows it.
Once it’s my turn again, I don’t bother picking up a piece. Instead, I stand up and head to the master bedroom. I need to get away from him and handle my soaking wet clit on my own; I don’t want him to assume that I need his help.
Walking into the en-suite, I step out of my clothes and walk right into the oversized shower that faces the gulf. Turning on the water, I lean back and sigh as I stand under the piping hot streams.
I hear the sound of footsteps from behind me seconds later, and I turn around to see Michael stepping inside the shower.
Completely naked, his abs are still as rock-hard and perfect as they were the last time I dragged my fingers across them. His hardened cock is on full display—making my lips and pussy crave another taste.
“Michael,” I say, using what’s left of my restraint. “Michael, I don’t want to talk if—”
“I don’t regret taking a single fucking soul,” he says. “Every person who I’ve killed personally fucking deserved it. My only regret is that I couldn’t do it twice.”
My jaw drops.
“So, if what you said when we broke up—” He pauses, glaring at me. “Excuse me when I broke us up… If you meant what you said, about loving someone enough to be okay with what I’ve done, you should know that I’ll never apologize for doing that.”
I swallow, and the steam begins to rise between us.
“You said that I could trust you enough to tell you,” he says. “You said if there was a good enough reason—”
“You’re not God,” I say, shaking my head. “So, there’s no ‘good enough’ reason for you to kill anyone. Ever.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes.” I step back as he steps closer. “Granted, what you did back at the resort was self-defense and it saved us—thank you, but there’s no reason to walk around this world like a vigilante and kill people just because you think they deserve it.”
“What if I know that they fucking deserve it?”
“Then that’s even worse. Take them to court instead of taking the law into your own hands. You claimed that you used to read a lot of John Grisham novels about delayed justice, so maybe you need a reread. Or was that a fucking lie, too?”
He doesn’t answer me.
“It honestly doesn’t matter since you’re taking me to the airport the moment they open,” I say, feeling a slight pang in my chest. “But just so you know, if you’d told me what you did for a living when we first met, I wouldn’t have given a single fuck.” My breath catches in my throat. “I was that fucking lonely.”
“I haven’t noticed any new friends in your life since then.”
“No,” I say, shrugging. “But now I have standards, and I only want good people in my life. A man who kills people for no rhyme or reason is—”
“I have a fucking reason,” He cuts