Read Online Dirty Little Lies by Julie Leto - Free Book Online Page B

pointing her finger at him.
    “You need more than sleep,” he claimed, stepping through the doors before they closed again.
    Her annoyance swelled as he licked his lips and raked his hand through his long, glossy black hair.
    Man, it looked like silk. Next to crawling into bed alone and sleeping for the next three days, the thought of feeling the sleek strands against her bare skin taunted her to near madness. She’d never made love to a longhaired man before. But she’d made love with Frankie before and she knew that the experience wouldn’t be quick or easy.
    Not anymore.
    It was one thing to flirt with him on the dance floor or steal a few sensual moments on the balcony. But now that she’d spent the last hour watching a desperate wife pray over the broken body of her husband, she wasn’t in the mood to fool around. Hadn’t she prayed over his broken body just three months ago? Then, only a few weeks into his recovery, she’d left him to continue her training with Titan. She hadn’t realized until right now how little had changed while they’d been apart. She still cared about him.
    Dammit.
    He closed in on her until his scent, so spiced and male, invaded her senses. “You dealt with a lot of shit tonight, vidita . Blood. Fear. Death. All the crap we can’t control. But you and me,” he said, easing his fingers up the side of her dress, “we lose control in the good way, verdad? ”
    And how much had stayed exactly the same.
    She swiped her hotel key through the lock and entered her room, with Frankie right behind her. She might have tried locking him out, but he’d only find a way to break in while she slept. Not that she minded a good invasion fantasy, but with her luck, she’d expect Frankie and end up face-to-face with someone trying to kill her for fucking up a secret conspiracy to murder the congressman.
    Ian had given them half a day to catch up on their zs. While she’d waited at the hospital exchanging small talk with the wily nurse on duty, Frankie had reportedly dug up an address on Parker Manning, Rebecca Manning’s brother. Ian, after debriefing Marisela one last time on the exact details of her run-in with the assassin, had had his driver deposit her at her hotel.
    “Aren’t you supposed to be watching Parker Manning?”
    Frankie’s grin oozed sensuality. “One of the night shift guys is keeping him in sight. We’ve been assigned as partners. Where you go, I go, vidita . Ain’t that how that works?”
    So they had at least eight good hours without any responsibilities.
    Frankie secured the dead bolt on the door with a loud click.
    This was not a good idea.
    Marisela found the zipper hidden in the side seam of her dress and released the material, determined to take a hot shower and dive into bed. Alone. Yet when she saw the hunger in Frankie’s hazel eyes, flashing in the flecks of jade green that had been melting her insides since age ten, she nearly stumbled. She turned her back to him and yanked her feet out of her sandals.
    “Stop looking at me like that,” she ordered, padding barefoot to her suitcase where she snatched the Tijuana T-shirt Brynn had bought her in Mexico as a joke. ONE TEQUILA, TWO TEQUILA, THREE TEQUILA, FLOOR. Man, could she go for a shot of the strong agave blend right about now.
    “Like how?” he asked, as if he didn’t know.
    She glared at him from over her shoulder. “Like you want to devour me.”
    “I do want to devour you.”
    Her mouth watered, but she jumped and writhed out of her dress, trying to deny how her body instantly reacted to Frankie’s sensual suggestion. Her muscles ached in protest, but other than a tiny yelp, she kept the pain to herself.
    “Too bad, because I’m not in the mood,” she insisted.
    Liar. Liar, liar, liar.
    In one great and crazy act of defiance, she whipped off her thong, allowing her bare breasts and throbbing concha to torture the man for the split second it took her to toss the lingerie on the floor and then