Conning For Keeps (An Agents of TRAIT Novella) (Entangled Flaunt) Read Online Free PDF Page B
Author: Seleste deLaney
shoulders unwound a bit with every step down the grand staircases. He’d managed not to injure Frankie Canalis. Marissa had made strides with Evangeline.
And, if all went well, she’d be in to see—and steal—the painting well before their fake wedding. Plus, at the end of dinner, she’d been yawning like she couldn’t possibly open her mouth wide enough to let her exhaustion exit. It meant they didn’t need to stick around for idle chitchat.
The job was done for the night.
He held the door to their room open, and she gave him a soft smile as she eased past.
Marissa stifled another yawn. “I think I’m going to get changed for bed.”
“Okay.”
Without another word, she went into the bathroom and shut the door. Part of him—a part he was none-too-impressed-with at the moment—was disappointed she wasn’t changing out here. The other, more respectable, part rushed to the table in the windowed alcove. He woke his laptop and, as soon as he could access his email, hastily started typing a note to Greta.
Surely there was a way to tweak Marissa’s “programming,” make her a bit more “blushing virgin” than she was now. Or maybe there was some other ridiculous code word that would help.
“Oh no you don’t. No work tonight.” Marissa pushed the lid of his laptop down.
He hadn’t heard her come out of the bathroom.
“It won’t keep you up. I’m almost…” He caught sight of her, and all hopes of getting an answer from Greta before things went too far flew out the bay window next to him.
Marissa stood there clad in nothing more than a couple scraps of white lace that had been packed in case their luggage was searched. Along with an economy pack of condoms. To make their ruse more believable to everyone involved. Clearly, that had been a mistake. One they were bound to pay for with a very uncomfortable conversation.
He knew if she turned around, there’d be nothing covering the ass he’d dreamed of touching, because the strings that secured the lower scrap would disappear between her cheeks. And the top was held together over her breasts by nothing but the piece of ribbon she was already toying with. The darker circles of her areolae hid like shadows, but shifting his gaze lower only gave him the bare expanse of her tight, toned abs.
Trevor swallowed hard, the part of him that had to play fiancé battling with the logic of not looking and, thereby, not losing his head. “I thought you were changing for bed.”
“I’d thought bed, but couch works, too. Or floor. Or table. But I’d kind of planned on starting slow since we spent all day traveling.” She bit her lip and tugged the edge of the nightie open.
He glanced at the clock. Nine-forty-five. Scheiße .
So much for her tired act.
He should have kept her downstairs for the hour. Apparently, Mari’d had plans he hadn’t accounted for.
She slithered closer, and the next thing he knew she was on his lap, trailing kisses up his neck and tracing the edge of his ear with her tongue. A shiver of electricity raced through him, feeding a yearning he hadn’t realized was only waiting for a catalyst.
He needed to stop this.
She dragged her teeth over his earlobe, and his body started to respond.
He didn’t want to stop anything.
Marissa was on his lap, urging him on. It was like every damn dream he’d ever had about her. Except not on a mission.
Not when she wasn’t herself.
He clenched his hands into fists, but she brought them up to her breasts. Her thumbs pried his hands open and tucked the white ribbon inside them.
“All you have to do is pull,” she whispered before her lips found his skin again.
He could not take advantage of her. He would not take advantage of her. She didn’t know what she was doing. And as much as an idiotic part of him wanted Marissa, he knew this would shatter her trust in him. Considering that trust barely went more than a single direction as it was, he couldn’t risk
And, if all went well, she’d be in to see—and steal—the painting well before their fake wedding. Plus, at the end of dinner, she’d been yawning like she couldn’t possibly open her mouth wide enough to let her exhaustion exit. It meant they didn’t need to stick around for idle chitchat.
The job was done for the night.
He held the door to their room open, and she gave him a soft smile as she eased past.
Marissa stifled another yawn. “I think I’m going to get changed for bed.”
“Okay.”
Without another word, she went into the bathroom and shut the door. Part of him—a part he was none-too-impressed-with at the moment—was disappointed she wasn’t changing out here. The other, more respectable, part rushed to the table in the windowed alcove. He woke his laptop and, as soon as he could access his email, hastily started typing a note to Greta.
Surely there was a way to tweak Marissa’s “programming,” make her a bit more “blushing virgin” than she was now. Or maybe there was some other ridiculous code word that would help.
“Oh no you don’t. No work tonight.” Marissa pushed the lid of his laptop down.
He hadn’t heard her come out of the bathroom.
“It won’t keep you up. I’m almost…” He caught sight of her, and all hopes of getting an answer from Greta before things went too far flew out the bay window next to him.
Marissa stood there clad in nothing more than a couple scraps of white lace that had been packed in case their luggage was searched. Along with an economy pack of condoms. To make their ruse more believable to everyone involved. Clearly, that had been a mistake. One they were bound to pay for with a very uncomfortable conversation.
He knew if she turned around, there’d be nothing covering the ass he’d dreamed of touching, because the strings that secured the lower scrap would disappear between her cheeks. And the top was held together over her breasts by nothing but the piece of ribbon she was already toying with. The darker circles of her areolae hid like shadows, but shifting his gaze lower only gave him the bare expanse of her tight, toned abs.
Trevor swallowed hard, the part of him that had to play fiancé battling with the logic of not looking and, thereby, not losing his head. “I thought you were changing for bed.”
“I’d thought bed, but couch works, too. Or floor. Or table. But I’d kind of planned on starting slow since we spent all day traveling.” She bit her lip and tugged the edge of the nightie open.
He glanced at the clock. Nine-forty-five. Scheiße .
So much for her tired act.
He should have kept her downstairs for the hour. Apparently, Mari’d had plans he hadn’t accounted for.
She slithered closer, and the next thing he knew she was on his lap, trailing kisses up his neck and tracing the edge of his ear with her tongue. A shiver of electricity raced through him, feeding a yearning he hadn’t realized was only waiting for a catalyst.
He needed to stop this.
She dragged her teeth over his earlobe, and his body started to respond.
He didn’t want to stop anything.
Marissa was on his lap, urging him on. It was like every damn dream he’d ever had about her. Except not on a mission.
Not when she wasn’t herself.
He clenched his hands into fists, but she brought them up to her breasts. Her thumbs pried his hands open and tucked the white ribbon inside them.
“All you have to do is pull,” she whispered before her lips found his skin again.
He could not take advantage of her. He would not take advantage of her. She didn’t know what she was doing. And as much as an idiotic part of him wanted Marissa, he knew this would shatter her trust in him. Considering that trust barely went more than a single direction as it was, he couldn’t risk