Page 39 of Vicious Deception

“Wren,” Elliot groans. His tongue slips into my mouth, dancing with mine. His movements are far past desperate. They’re slow, almost mournful, like every touch is part of a drawn-out goodbye.

I suppose, in a way, that’s exactly what this is.

My heart breaks for Elliot as he lifts me up and re-positions me so I’m straddling him. I can’t even imagine what he’s gone through—being separated from everyone, being forced to do Ludo’s bidding, watching as Holloway tortures Oliver—but I know it’s been awful. If I can offer him any amount of solace, even if it’s small and brief, Ineedto.

“I love you,” I whisper.

He pulls away and stares at me, his gaze unwavering. Piercing. “Wren, I love you with everything in me, and I’m going to fight my hardest to get us all back to you. I—I’m sorry this is what we’ve come to. I’m sorry we couldn’t—”

Before he can go on, I capture the rest of his apology in a long kiss. I don’t want him thinking about that right now.

Taking Elliot’s wrists, I guide his hands underneath my shirt. He moans, his fingers splaying across my body and grabbing my waist. The simple touch floods me with desire, sending a shiver up my spine.

Elliot is watching me with hooded eyes. His lips are slightly parted, and at least for the moment, it seems like I’ve successfully diverted his attention.

“May I?” he whispers, his fingers curling around the hem of my shirt.

With a silent nod, I raise my arms so he can pull it off easier. Goosebumps form over my skin as the cool air hits me. I reach behind me, unclasping my bra and pulling it off, before I toss it onto the floor where Elliot dropped my shirt and jacket.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs.

My breath hitches when he cups my breasts in his hands and squeezes. With a moan, I press my lips to his and caress his face. Having his hands on me again feels sogood.

Without warning, Elliot grabs me and stands. He holds me to him as he walks over to the desk and sets me on it. “Tell me this is okay.” His voice is rough—strained. “Love, please. I need . . . I need you.”

“Yes.” I kiss him gently, tilting my head as one of my arms slips around the back of his neck.

Elliot’s hands are trembling as he undoes my pants. It makes my heart skip a beat. I think I can probably count on one hand the amount of times I’ve seen Elliot’s hands shake—if I ever have.

“Up,” he says softly.

I brace my hands on the desk and lift my hips so he can slide my pants down my legs. My panties come with them, and I kick off my shoes so he can pull everything off.

Stepping back, Elliot takes me in. His gaze is warm against my skin, and I spread my legs and lean back on the desk to give him a better view. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and a sudden need to place my lips against his hot skin fills me.

“Come here,” I say.

He moves closer, his fingers skimming my thighs. Stretching upward, I brush my lips across his neck. Having him close brings me a type of comfort I’ve craved for weeks, and I want to wrap my arms around him and never let go.

Elliot’s thumb massages my clit gently while his free hand cups the back of my head. I stare into his eyes, still bloodshot and filled to the brim with regret.

I wish I could take away all his pain. Sure, I’ve been lonely and terrified for the guys, but it’s nothing compared to what they’re going through.

“Love.” Elliot dips his head down until his lips meet mine. He circles my clit while he kisses me with a fervor so intense I lose my breath.

When he slips a finger into me, we both groan. I find my hands reaching for him almost automatically. It only takes me a couple seconds to undo his pants and push them and his briefs down his thighs.

His dick is already hard, and I stroke it slowly as he fingers me. He kisses me again, moaning against my mouth as he slides a second finger into me. My tongue enters his mouth and tangles with his, and I feel myself clamping around his fingers as he thrusts them into me.

“Ell,” I gasp.

“I’ve thought about doing this to you every night,” he murmurs. “So many things.”

I moan. “What else?”

“Kissing you.” He groans when I stroke him faster. “Finally putting that hook in your bedroom to good use. Two of us fucking you together. I thought . . . I thought about everything. God—god, Wren, stop.”

My hand stills, and I realize he’s panting.