All the Pretty Lies (22 page)

And I’ve never felt so free.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO- Hemi

I make my way back to Sloane, carrying our
shots. A bottle of water is tucked in my waist band. She’s gonna
need it.

I weave through the tightly packed crush of
bodies until they part enough that I can see her. Her eyes are
closed and her body is moving to the deep thump of the music. I
stop to watch her. I’m captivated by the gentle swing of her
shoulders, mesmerized by the suggestive sway of her hips. The way
she moves… Damn, it’s so sexy! I don’t think she realizes how much
innate sensuality she has, how much appeal she exudes without even
trying. I’ve known a lot of women. A lot of women very practiced in
getting what they want, in enticing a man, but none of them have
made me ache like Sloane does.

I want her. I want to take what she’s given
to no one else. I want to be the first to show her everything. And
to be the one she can’t forget. She’s like the blank slate I so
crave for my art. I want to be etched onto her. Permanently.
Something about that thought appeals to the primal man in me, to
the animal and the conqueror.

I take a step toward her and, as if sensing
the stalk of a predator, she opens her eyes and they focus
immediately on mine. Her lips curve the slightest bit. A
provocative half grin that makes me think of pushing her onto a
bed, rolling her onto her stomach and ramming into her from
behind.

I grit my teeth. My patience is stretched to
the point of breaking.

When I stop in front of Sloane, she takes a
shot glass from my hand and grabs the salt from the bend of my arm.
“I’ll go first again,” Sloane says, a dangerous glint in her eyes.
Before I can argue, she’s wiggling her tongue over the skin of my
throat then standing back to shake a little salt on it. I feel it
sprinkle down my arm and chest, doubting that much hit the spot she
prepared, and not caring either way.

With her lips and tongue, she licks salt from
my neck, tosses back her shot and sucks on the lemon wedge. I see
the challenge in her eyes as she watches me over the yellow slice
she’s holding between her lips. My patience dissolves like the salt
on her tongue.

“You know what?” I ask, pulling her close so
she can hear me. And so I can
feel
her.

“What?”

“I’ve got tequila and lemons and salt and
music at my house.”

I lean back to look down at her. Onyx eyes
search mine. She knows what I’m saying, what I’m asking. “Then
let’s go.”

I hand my shot to the guy standing behind me
and I take Sloane’s hand, leading her to the door. I can’t get home
fast enough.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE- Sloane

When I opened my eyes and saw Hemi watching
me, I knew tonight would be the night we’d take the next step,
whatever that might be. But I want it. More than anything.

I want
him.
I want tonight. I want
right now. I want the impulsive, the spontaneous. I want the
passion. And I’m about to get it.

The music is just loud enough that we don’t
speak the entire way back to Hemi’s house in the posh Atlanta
suburb. When he cuts the engine, he gets out, comes around to my
side and helps me out, leading me quietly to the front door. Once
inside, Hemi takes my purse from my fingers and throws it on the
sofa. He turns back to me, cupping my cheek with his palm. “How’s
your head?”

“It’s fine. It’s perfect,” I answer with a
smile.

“Not too fuzzy?”

“No, it’s just a little…light.”

“Then how about the sauna? The heat will
intensify the buzz you feel now, but I’ll take some water so it
doesn’t get out of hand.”

“The sauna sounds good,” I say. And it
does.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Hemi confesses
with a grin. “Be right back.”

A couple of minutes later, Hemi returns with
an ice bucket full of ice and an assortment of other things. He
takes my hand and leads me down the hall and through a door. The
hardwoods turn to beautiful travertine tiles that lead into a short
corridor that’s filled with big pots filled overflowing with exotic
plants. I can smell chlorine, so I know the pool is close.

Hemi stops in front of a solid wood door with
a tiny window at the top. He fiddles with a dial on the wall and
then sets the bucket down.

“Have you ever been in a sauna before?”

I shake my head. “No, but I know what they
are.”

“Then you know they’re hot and humid. And
we’ll sweat.”

“I know.”

“So it’s better to go in with no clothes
on.”

I feel like smiling and moaning at the same
time. Something about Hemi’s face and his voice and this night is
pleasing to me in so many ways, I’m almost confused by the
onslaught of feelings and anticipation.

“Well, it’s not like you haven’t seen me
naked before.”

His eyes darken, from cool blue to dark,
steamy midnight. “How can I forget?” He reaches for the hem of my
shirt. “Let me help you,” he says, raising the material.

Hemi pulls my shirt over my head and drops it
onto the floor. Beneath it, because of the cut of my top, I’m
wearing a strapless bra. Hemi’s eyes rove over me like I’m wearing
nothing. Taking me by the shoulders, Hemi turns me to face the door
and presses me up against it, raising my arms above my head, palms
flat against the wood.

I feel his fingers tickle down my sides,
skating to the center of my back to release the clasp of my bra. I
gasp when he runs his hands up my stomach and cups my breasts where
they’re smashed between bra and door. I groan and arch my back.
When he moves his hands away, taking my bra with it, he leans into
me, pressing my naked skin against the cool wood of the door. I
gasp. “Does that make your nipples hard? The cold door against that
hot skin of yours?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer. And I don’t
give him one. I’m too focused on his hands as they travel back down
my sides, to the edge of my shorts.

When Hemi’s tongue touches my back, I lean
further into the door for support. He licks all the way down my
spine as he drops to his knees behind me. His fingers curl in the
waistband of my shorts, dragging the material over my hips and down
my legs, leaving me standing before him in only my panties and
heels.

“You have a mouthwatering ass,” he groans,
stroking one cheek with his tongue and then biting it lightly. I
exhale, feeling more lightheaded than I did when we arrived. He
eases the silk of my panties to the floor, running his hands back
up the insides of my thighs. “And the most beautiful legs I’ve ever
seen.” His hands stop just shy of where I’m beginning to ache.
“Every time I look at you from behind, I want to come all over your
ass and watch you shiver when it runs down between your legs. Like
this,” he says, pushing my legs apart to trace a path from the base
of my spine to the tops of his fingertips. But he stops when he’s
so close. So close…

I feel a whimper build at the back of my
throat.

“But not yet,” he says, dragging his hands
slowly away, leaving me feeling empty and unsatisfied.

Hemi pulls me away from the door and opens
it. A gush of steam wafts out from the sweetly scented interior.
“Have a seat. I’ll be right in.”

I kick off my shoes and step inside the
sauna, moving to the wide top ledge and sitting primly on the edge.
When I look back toward the door, it’s to see Hemi stripping off
his clothes and grabbing the ice bucket. His movements are quick as
he steps into the sauna and turns to close the door behind him.
It’s when he faces me, the ice bucket and some towels tucked
against his hip, that I see what true masculine perfection Hemi
possesses.

I’ve seen him mostly naked before anyway, at
the beach and then again in the hotel. But to be able to look my
fill, to see him standing before me wearing nothing but an intense
look and the ink that I’ve helped apply to his skin is
breathtaking.

My eyes travel from his square jaw to his
wide shoulders and down his muscular arms. I make note of his flat,
rippled stomach and his lean hips before my eyes pause on the
excited appendage nestled between them.

I’ve seen a naked man in real life before,
but never one like this. Never one so amazingly constructed. Or
so…big. It gives me a thrill that Hemi is excited, very obviously
so. His erection is long and thick and lies firmly against his
lower abdomen, stretching all the way to his navel. My mouth goes
dry just thinking about him trying to fit that inside me, but my
body aches for him to try. And soon.

My gaze skims Hemi’s strong thighs before
returning to his. “Don’t worry, little girl,” Hemi says hoarsely,
“I’ll show you how to use it before the night’s over with.”

Heat gushes to the throb between my legs and
I nod.

I watch as Hemi sets the bucket on the first
ledge and kneels at my feet. He spreads out three thick towels on
the wooden seat beside me. “Lie back on these. They’re softer,” he
says, tucking one under his knees, too. When I do as he says, he
reaches for the bucket, taking a bottle of water from inside it and
twisting off the top. He takes a sip then throws a little on the
hot coals, causing a burst of steam to fill the room. Then he turns
back to me. Hemi holds the bottle to my lips and I lean up onto my
elbows. “Drink. I don’t want you to get dehydrated.”

Doing as I’m told, I close my lips around the
end of the bottle. Hemi tilts it up just enough that the cool
liquid touches my tongue and then he lowers it. It tastes
incredible—cold and refreshing, especially in contrast to the hot
environment.

“More?” he asks. I nod and he tips up the
bottle again, this time further, so I can get a bigger drink.

Liquid spills from the corner of my mouth and
dribbles down my chest, leaving a cool trail behind it. I gasp at
the shock of it.

“Cold?” he asks. I nod again.

Dipping his head, Hemi puts his tongue to
where the drop stopped half way down my stomach and he licks its
wet trail all the way back up to my throat.

“More?” he asks.

I nod yet again.

Hemi holds the bottle of water over my mouth
without letting it touch my lips. He pours some onto my waiting
tongue then lets some splash onto my collarbone. I suck in a breath
as Hemi moves the bottle further, tipping it up and letting cool
water cascade over my puckered nipple. It runs down my stomach to
the crease of my thigh.

Pressing his lips to my chest, Hemi follows
the liquid trail, licking his way down to my nipple and pulling it
into his mouth. “Mmmm, doesn’t feel cold to me,” he murmurs around
my flesh, sending chills down my arm. He gives my nipple one hard
suck, letting it pop out of his mouth as he moves on down my
stomach. “Let me check elsewhere.”

Hemi’s lips and tongue make their way down my
body to the crease where my hip and leg meet. He delves his tongue
deep into it, following it in toward the apex of my legs. I feel
the heat of his mouth against my skin and I spread my thighs,
craving closer contact. Craving Hemi.

“This isn’t cold at all,” he whispers. “But
if you’re hot…and you need it to be cold…”

Reaching into the bucket, Hemi takes an ice
cube and puts it in his mouth. I see him hold it there for a few
seconds before the action of his throat tells me he swallowed.
Then, parting my legs farther and using the fingers of one hand to
spread my folds, he bends his head.

Pleasure floods me when he touches his cool
tongue to me, swirling it over my clit and then down to thrust it
inside me. It feels like he’s touching me with wet ice,
burning-cold, wet ice. “God, I love the way you taste. Sweet, like
honey.”

Hemi reaches beside him for the water bottle.
Holding it over me, he pours cool water between my legs, letting it
run all the way down before he laps it up with his tongue. The hot
and the cold, the trickle of the water and the pressure of his
tongue, I’m about to spiral out of control when I feel Hemi’s
fingers, cool from the ice, enter me. Just once. One sharp thrust
and then he withdraws them.

“You’re so tight,” he says against me. “And
I’m gonna stretch you so much tighter,” he moans, bending back to
me, his lips and tongue devouring me while he penetrates me again
with his fingers. “This first time, I won’t go deep. I don’t want
to hurt you. But the next time? Next time, I’ll show you no mercy.
And you’ll love me for it.”

Hemi’s words are a better aphrodisiac than
anything in that club. They seep into my body and heat it up from
the inside, making me writhe beneath his skilled mouth.

My body is awash with sensation—his cool
tongue slipping in and out of me; his lips as they suck my flesh
into his mouth; his teeth as he rakes them gently over me. And his
fingers when they push deep into me.

Then he’s picking up my hips, holding me in
his palms, up to his mouth. Feasting between my spread legs.

Sound fades, like it’s receding into a
tunnel. Breath catches, like it’s been consumed by a vacuum. Eyes
close, as if pleasure is pulling the shades on my vision. And then,
under Hemi’s exquisitely agonizing touch, I fly up through the
ceiling and out into the night, breaking apart and falling back
down to Earth in a million tiny pieces.

I’m not even aware of burying my fingers in
his hair. Or holding his head to me. Or moving my body against his
mouth. Or screaming his name over and over again. I can only feel.
Feel Hemi.

When he sets my hips back down, I look down.
Hemi takes one of my legs and lifts it, rolling me slightly onto my
side. He tucks my calf under his arm and moves in over my other
leg, settling between them. I watch, fascinated, as he guides his
thick head to my entrance. I feel it there, my body sucking at it
as Hemi moves it in small circles, round and round, slightly in and
back out again. I’m helpless to make him slide farther in. I’m
forced to wait, anticipation curling every muscle in my body into a
tight fist.