Seduction & Temptation by Jessica Sorensen Read Free Book Online Page B

relaxing, just like I was taught. I want more of it; I want what I know awaits me if I can push us both further. A few minutes of bliss from this shitty night that I’m sure will lead to an endless amount of shitty nights, if I survive. I need it—this. Hunger for it.

    Finally, I can’t stand it anymore. The need and desire mixed with a hell of a lot of Bacardi and Scotch is too much.

    I spin around and grind my body against him for a moment while dipping my lips to his ear. “Take me into the bathroom and fuck me,” I whisper hotly against his ear while running my fingers through the back of his hair and grinding my hips against his. I sound like someone else, someone in control, who knows what she wants. I sound like the Lola I was a few weeks ago, before the letter, before this.

    I nip at his earlobe, grazing my teeth against his flesh. His breath catches in his throat, his breathing fierce—in and out, in and out—driving my body into a sexual frenzy as his solid chest brushes with mine. The intense feeling amplifies as he pushes back and I see the glossy, lost look in his eyes, like he’s high.

    When the DJ starts saying something in the background, the crowd cheers and jumps up and down, slamming into us and pushing us closer. Neither of us looks away from each other, though; our gazes and bodies melded together.

    Then, without saying a word, he grabs my hand and shoves his way through the dance floor, pushing people out of the way. Excitement roars through my body and fleetingly erases the fear and nervousness I’ve been feeling all night.

    I can do this. I can let everything go. Just take a moment.

    But then I spot one tall, solidly built man with a goatee and a tattoo on the side of his neck entering the bar from the back entrance. Draston Fordelles, one of Defontelles’ men.

    Like a sharp slap across the face, I’m reminded of why I’m here. Not to play. Not to have fun. Not to have sex with a guy who I need to start seeing as an enemy.

    I’m here to kill.

    However, my body has different ideas and won’t let me pull away from Layton. If anything, I hold on tighter, pretending he’s the guy I used to play with in the sandbox; the guy who kept an eye on me at parties, making sure I didn’t get too wasted and do something stupid; the guy who took the fall for me a thousand times. God dammit, I need this. I need just one more moment of calmness before my whole entire world is turned upside down.

    I know things will never be the same after I go through with it. I’ve known a few people who have committed hits for various different reasons, and they were never the same afterwards. Even if it’s for a good reason and the person they kill is bad, it changes them forever. Darkens their soul. Hollows them out. They carry pain on their shoulders forever. Some don’t even survive, ending their own lives later on. I know this from growing up in the kind of environment I have.

    And that’s what keeps me moving forward with Layton as he pushes through the bathroom door, startling a group of women putting lipstick and mascara on in front of the mirror. A couple of them yell at him to get out and the rest simply stare in awe. I’m sure they are wishing they were going into the stall to get fucked by him.

    Layton disregards them completely as he strides toward the end stall, towing me along with him. He shoves the door open and tugs me in before letting my hand go then locking us in. By the time he turns around and faces me, I’m panting with need, my chest heaving ravenously.

    I want. I want. I need. I need. I’m helpless with desire.

    “Pull your pants down,” I say to Layton, relaxing back against the wall and biting my lip until it bleeds.

    He shakes his head, his lips quirking with genuine amusement. “You’ve gotten bossier since the last time we hooked up.”

    I tell my body to be patient, yet it’s difficult now that we’ve gotten this far, and I start running my hand along my