Faking It / Forbidden Sins. Stefanie London

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       CHAPTER FIVE

       Owen

      HANNAH FEELS LIKE heaven in my hands, but she kisses like the devil. Dark and sinful and so tempting my mere mortal brain has no hope of withstanding her. When I pulled her toward me, I hadn’t expected her to respond with such enthusiasm. The kiss was a legitimate action to maintain cover and within the boundaries of our work.

      The wood in my jeans was not.

      I’d been prepared to keep my hands at ten and two—high school dance style—until the second she’d rubbed against me, purring like a kitten and taking a lit match to my decency. The sound coming from her mouth scrambles my brain, making me think of long sweaty nights and the feeling of thighs clamping down on my head. My fantasy woman always has dark hair and dark eyes, and it didn’t occur to me until right now that Anderson could be that woman. She has been that woman…more times than I will ever admit.

      But Anderson is a family woman. A heart-and-soul kind of woman. A forever woman. And that means we’ll never be anything more than friends.

      Her lips work against mine, her tongue sliding into my mouth as she presses herself against me. Grinding. I’m pinned to the fence, my body temperature skyrocketing. I want nothing more than to spin her around so I can use the fence to brace her back while I drag her legs up and encourage her to lock her heels behind my back.

      But this is work. And this kiss is veering into the space where one of us is taking advantage of the situation—only I don’t know who.

      “He’s gone.” I whisper against her lips. It’s dark outside and I can’t see the details of her expression, but I feel the effects of the kiss in the puffiness of her lips. In the quickness of her breath.

      “Well,” she says shakily. “That’s a relief.”

      “Yeah, I got the impression you thoroughly hated that.” The teasing comes easily, naturally. It’s like breathing for me. Like walking.

      But what I really want is to tell her that she’s got me hot and bothered. That I’ll have to scrub this memory from my mind if I have any hope of keeping my focus on the case. But my focus is no better than a crystal glass thrown against a brick wall. It’s thousands of irreparable glittering shards. I want to punish that sweet mouth of hers and haul her over my shoulder so I can take her straight to my bed.

      “What now?” she asks.

      I want to stay in this bubble forever—me and her. That kiss. The feel of her subtle curves against me. “We take the show back to the apartment.”

      “What?” she squeaks, stepping back suddenly. No longer covered in the shadows of the tree, the moonlight bounces off her face—off her wide eyes and lush mouth. I bet the tips of her ears are bright red.

      “We’re newlyweds who’ve gotten distracted by a kiss and now we’re heading back home to finish what we started.” I grin and step forward, causing her to back up. “Do you have a problem with that, darling wife?”

      She rolls her eyes and turns, heading back across the garden. In a few strides, I catch up to her and sling an arm around her shoulders. I’m surprised to find a smirk on her lips. “I think if anyone thoroughly enjoyed that kiss, it was you, by the way,” she says.

      Our footsteps fall in time. “What powers of deduction did you use to figure that out?”

      “You’re going to make me say it?” She shakes her head. There’s more light overhead now as we approach the barbeque area and her ears are definitely pink. “It was pretty bloody obvious.”

      “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

      She opens her mouth to respond, but we’re interrupted by a group spilling out of the building and into the shared barbeque area. There are three men dressed in casual attire, laughing and carrying food. Two of the men look to be brothers and all appear to be in their early thirties.

      “You’re new.” One of the brothers points a pair of tongs in our direction. The others wave and set themselves up around the barbeque. “Level six, right?”

      “Word travels fast.” I stick my hand out. “Owen. This is my wife, Hannah.”

      The W-word rolls off my tongue far too easily and it stirs something uncomfortable in my gut.

      “Dom.” The guy is built like a bear and has a grip to match. “That’s my brother, Rowan, and our mate Matt.”

      “We moved in today,” Hannah says, her smile a little too wide. I reach for her hand and squeeze—hoping it looks more loving and less like the warning it is. Rule number one of being undercover, never offer more information than you need to. “This morning, actually. We’ve been unpacking all day.”

      She’s nervous. Hannah is like a fountain when she’s nervous, which normally I am all about. But now is not the time for verbal diarrhea. I squeeze her hand again.

      “It’s a СКАЧАТЬ