Page 96 of Once Upon a Lie

“I missed you,” she whispers and moves her hands to my thighs. “Really, really missed you.”

Her hands inch up my legs, and my cock is already responding.

Fuck. I told myself I would not sleep with her again until she knew the truth—that I wouldn’t take advantage of a situation she couldn’t possibly understand.

I thought I could hold her off with dinner and cuddles and quick wit again, but the look in her blue eyes is determined.

I owe it to her to make the effort, though. My voice is raw in a way I hope she doesn’t notice. “I missed you, too, baby. And thank you for dinner. It was delicious. The least I can do is the dishes,” I tell her and press a soft kiss to her lips before grabbing the dishes from behind her and scurrying to the sink.

I don’t dare look back at the disappointment I know I’ll find on her face.

“Should we watch a movie tonight?” she calls toward me, and when I look over my shoulder to find her cozying up on my couch, a gentle spark of hope that I’ll be able to hold her at bay without breaking her heart blooms.

“Sure,” I answer back cheerfully.

When the dishes are done, I make my way into the living room and sit on the couch beside her. She has the remote in her hand, a movie already cued, and she doesn’t hesitate to curl up next to me.

It’s comfortable. Cozy. PG. Perfect.

I let my guard down and settle my arm around her shoulders and melt deeper into the sofa as the rom-com starts to play, but within five minutes she adjusts her position and straddles my thighs. Face to face, this close, it’s obvious how much she’s fighting feeling hurt from before, which makes it a million times harder to set her away.

Fuck.

“I need you,” she whispers and leans forward to kiss me. Her mouth finds mine like she’s been waiting for it all day. I give in—I have to. My own personal purgatory.

She wiggles her hips against me, and a groan escapes my lips.

Oh no. This isn’t good.

She breaks the kiss to take off her hoodie, and she’s not wearing a bra. Her pink nipples are hard and pert, and my mouth waters at the sight of them.

“I want you, Shane,” she whispers and leans forward, brushing her breasts against my mouth.

I’m sucking her nipples before I can stop myself. Hands on her ass, I push her warmth closer to my cock and die a little inside.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“This isn’t fair,” I tell her, my voice rough. “I shouldn’t want you this much.”

“But you do.” She presses her forehead to mine. “And I want you too. That’s the perfect part.”

It’s also a big fucking problem.

“I want you inside me,” she whispers. “I need it, Shane. I need you.”

That’s the kill shot. My total undoing. I tell myself I’m less of an asshole because she knows the things that matter about me—my upbringing and parents, my heart, my personality. Those things are all real.

I ignore the niggling voice that says none of those things matter when I’m carrying the burden of hidden intentions.

Not because the temptation is sweet, but because resisting her—breaking her trust in the way I feel about her by saying no—hurts too fucking much.

I lift her into my arms and carry her to my bedroom. She laughs softly against my neck like this is easy. Like this isn’t going to cost me—and her—everything.

When we reach my bedroom, I push her back into the mattress, and she’s already taking her sweatpants off, revealing her bare, wet, perfect pussy.

I groan.

She reaches up to remove my T-shirt from my body. Her hands move to my pants next, pushing them down, along with my boxer briefs, and my hard cock juts out from my body like he’ll cut himself off to be inside her if he has to.