When the Heart Lies - By Christina North Page 0,13
Scar, and turned back to Kinsley. He knelt down in front of her and lifted it to her lips. God, how he wanted to kiss those lips and forget he was there to do a job. In many ways, he already had. As she took the joint into her mouth and closed her lips around it, his eyes lingered, just for a moment, until they met hers again. She inhaled deeply as he held up the lighter. He didn’t move. After a couple seconds, she let the smoke drift out slowly and cocked her head to the side, giving him a challenging look.
When she spoke, her voice came softly, dragging the words out. “Maybe you should’ve lit it with the stare you’re burning into me.” She kept her eyes on him, her lips didn’t curve, but her cheeks and eyes were telling. She was smiling.
“Ah…I’m outta here,” Scar said and headed for the door.
When the door closed behind her, he took a seat in the chair across from Kinsley. His hand drew up to his chin, and his fingers slid across his lips a few times before he spoke. “Well, you’re full of surprises aren’t you?”
She smiled as she reached over and handed him the weed, her scoop neck T-shirt falling open just enough. He inhaled deeply and watched her watching his chest rise and fall. Her eyes continued downward. He smiled when, on her ascent, she met his eyes and realized he’d caught her sizing up the goods. She let out a giggle. He laughed, too, happy to see her that way. He hadn’t seen her like that often.
She closed her eyes and rested her head against the back of the sofa. Her slender neck stretched out long, in perfect position for him to slip his hand in from behind and pull her soft, full lips to his. It wasn’t long before he was imagining her dark hair spilling onto his face and chest and feeling the weight of her moving in perfect rhythm above him. He could see himself taking hold of her sweetheart ass and pulling her in as she moved. When she was close enough, she would lower her lips, and he would taste her, smoothing her silky hair beneath his hands as he held it off her face. He could picture this in his mind as clearly as she sat in front of him. His affections where entering dangerous territory. Until now, he’d always kept his work separate from his private life. Fantasies needed to be put in check. She opened her eyes, and he quickly shifted, trying to make it appear he had not been staring yet again.
She met his gaze, and her lips spread into a soft smile. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wander off.”
The languidness of her eyes made him wonder if her thoughts had wandered anywhere resembling the vicinity of his. And the pressure mounting in his groin reminded him once again to maintain a clear perspective. This is work, a case, nothing more. He was lying to himself. This was becoming personal. It was the case that was getting in the way. “No, it’s all good; we’re here to relax.”
“We kind of ran Scar off,” she said.
“Nobody runs Rayne off. She just knows when to make an exit.”
Her face bunched in confusion. “Rayne?”
“That’s her name. She started having people call her Scar, and it stuck.”
He swung his legs over the side of the chair and leaned back accessing the puzzle before him. She simply appeared sweet and at ease, no posturing, no typical womanly vies for his attention. Those rarities made him even more determined to find out what it was about her that was sucking him into a place he’d never been and always swore he’d never be. He wanted to tell her she was beautiful. Wanted to throw her down onto the sofa and make love to her. Hell, who was he kidding? He wanted to fuck her, ravish her—and then make love to her slowly, taking in her very essence as he did.
“I’d love to sit here all night,” she said.
The sweet sound of her voice, only imagined before today, broke into his thoughts. “Yeah, me too. We should get going though. I don’t want anybody wondering where we are.” He didn’t give a shit what people thought, but he didn’t trust himself to behave if they were alone much longer and decided leaving would be a good idea.