Filthy Beautiful Lust (Filthy Beautiful Lies, #3)

Kylie

Pace’s masculine voice reading Goodnight Moon puts me in a happy little place of bliss. One where there are no thoughts of custody arrangements looming over me, or the pull of two very different men, for two very different reasons.

Max is evidently in his happy place too. His eyes are big and he listens attentively, staying as quiet and still as a little mouse.

I don’t think he’s ever had a man read to him before, and there is something distinctly different about the entire experience. In addition to his rich, deep tone caressing the words, Pace lingers over different parts of the story, points out objects on the page and names them, pauses at the turn of each new page so they can admire the illustration. It’s a magical thing watching them read together. If what Pace said was genuine, we could have this every night. The thought is intoxicating.

After Max is asleep, we clean the dishes together in silence. I sense we’re both processing the weight of everything that’s happened between us.

Sometimes I wish I was a normal girl, to which the normal rules of dating applied – dinner and a movie and a kiss on my front porch. It seems so much easier, so much less confusing, without all the complications of my family obligations and responsibilities. But of course, I wouldn’t trade Max for anything in the world, so that’s out.NôvelDrama.Org: owner of this content.

“How’s your arm?” Pace asks out of the blue.

“Still sore, but I’m managing.” I feel like I can be honest with him, even if I don’t want to totally admit to my weakness.

“We’re just about done here, why don’t you go relax in the living room?” he says. “I’ll finish up here, grab a beer, and then join you.”

“Okay.” I know better than to try and argue.

Pace’s living room is still destroyed with toys scattered everywhere, so while I wait for him, I pick up every last toy, one at a time and line them up in a neat pile along the wall. It seems the only item he forgot was a toy box to house all these new treasures.

When Pace wanders in a few minutes later with a bottle of imported beer dangling in one hand, he takes a brief look around and shakes his head at me. That delectable smirk and dimpled grin makes me weak in the knees. Good thing I’m already seated.

I know he knows the effect he can have on a woman when he’s working his game, but I don’t think he has any idea how deeply he can affect me without even trying. Just the sight of him provokes a physical response in my body. My belly is a mess of nerves, my palms begin shaking and my breasts feel so sensitive, they’re tingling for his mouth again. I’m terrified Pace can see right through me when he looks at me like that – all intense and brooding. But the next words out of his mouth ease my mind. He doesn’t know I have sex on the brain.

“Do you even know how to relax?” he asks.

I don’t respond. I’m a single mom who works full-time. My opportunities for lounging and eating bon-bons are limited to say the least.

He chuckles, his mood suddenly turning light. “Come here.” He sits down on the couch and pats the cushion beside him. I slide closer, wondering what type of relaxation he has in mind. Something of the orgasmic variety, I hope. I want to bitch-slap my subconscious. No. Definitely no.

Pace places his hands at my waist and turns my body so I’m angled away from him. I’m reminded instantly how powerful and strong he is, remembering how he so easily lifted me onto the desk when we made love. A thrill of excitement races through me. I recall the exquisite feeling of his wicked hands on my skin, his lips at my throat, his powerful cock sliding in and out of me. Everything had been perfect, but I couldn’t allow myself to think about that now. Not when Elan was seemingly back in the picture. Pushing those thoughts from my head, I focus on Pace’s large hands on my shoulders. He gives them a squeeze, and I swear my muscles go instantly lax.

Ohhh.

“You’re so tense,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumbs along my shoulder blades.

His hands are magic as he rubs my shoulders with firm pressure and I feel my body relaxing into the sofa. But when he starts massaging the back of my neck, his fingers pressing into my scalp, I completely lose my composure, whimpering and leaning into his touch.

“That’s it, let me take care of you,” he whispers, his fingers lightly massaging, and caressing. I close my eyes and just enjoy the sensations. Everything in my life feels so confusing, and so heavy, but in this moment, I let myself enjoy the stillness of the moment. I deserve this much.

When Pace finishes the massage, I’m lax and almost boneless. I could curl into him and fall asleep. He turns me to face him and meets my eyes, while running his fingers through the long strands of my hair. “How did that feel?” he asks, his voice quiet.

“Really good,” I admit. “Thank you. For dinner, for the toys, for everything…” He is too much, his kindness shines through with every action. My own words float through my head. I’d once told Pace that the quality I was looking for in a man is someone who was kind to my child. But he’s shown me something even more – he’s amazing with Max, but he’s also there for me. My throat gets tight.

“You’re welcome.” His voice is hoarse, and suddenly I realize he’s aroused. I glance down and see a bulge pressing against his trousers. Touching me, even in an innocent fashion, has turned him on. Remembering that he doesn’t wear boxers makes me realize if I were to unzip the front of his pants, I could have his hot length in my greedy hands.

Feeling bold, I settle my hand over the front of his pants, lightly palming his erection.

A strangled groan pushes past his lips and his eyes land on mine. “Kylie…” His voice is a tender plea in the silent room, and the coarse quality to it sends shivers along my body. He wants me. And, even if it’s just for tonight, I want to feel wanted.

Sinking to the floor between his feet, my shaky hands fumble with his button and zipper while my eyes stay on his. I’m too filled with my need for him to worry about the consequences of Max finding us.

Pace’s breathing increases and his hand cups my cheek, his thumb lightly dancing along my skin.