Romantic Lies

by Monique DuBois

  Romantic Lies

  (Book 2)

  by

  MONIQUE DUBOIS

  Copyright © 2020 Monique DuBois

  Kindle Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This book is a work of fiction. Places, names, characters and events are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Connect with Monique DuBois

  one

  Liam

  I’m holding Abigail in my arms as we lay together in my new apartment overlooking Central Park. She’s finally let down her guard with me, shown me the vulnerable side that I knew was lurking all along beneath her strong, no-nonsense exterior. We’ve both told each other our secrets. She told me about her stepfather and the horror he caused her as a young child, a trauma so acute that it buried her sexuality forever beneath layers of shame and pain. I told her how my wife, Mia, had committed suicide years ago, and how I had been unable to get an erection with a woman since she died.

  That all changed when Abby and I found each other. Since then, we’ve begun to heal each other. We’re discovering pleasure in each other’s arms. Trust. Love. Comfort. Not to mention the chemistry. We have the kind of chemistry that people write love songs about.

  Yes, she’s brought out the romantic in me, the man I thought I’d never be again. She inspires me, and heals me. Most importantly, through each other, we’ve both begun to live again.

  But…there’s something I still haven’t told her, something important about my past. A lie that stands between us, even though she doesn’t know it.

  I should have told Abigail earlier. I should have told her before she moved in. But I didn’t want to scare her away. I keep telling myself I’ll do it when the time is right, when I can finally get up my courage to share the last part of me that I’ve shared with no one. The part I can hardly admit to myself.

  I hope she will stay with me once she finds out what it is.

  But I doubt it.

  I pull her close, my heart squeezing with guilt. I can’t believe I’m doing this to her. I can’t believe I’ve been keeping this from her. I’m a royal jerk. A prick.

  I open my mouth to tell her, but then close it again. My heart races, and my mouth is as dry as day-old cotton candy at a carnival. The bare skin on my chest suddenly feels cold, clammy. It’s dotted with goose bumps.

  If this isn’t a panic attack, I don’t know what is.

  This isn’t the right time. Not yet.

  Abby looks up at me with a smile. Her blonde hair is rumpled, still damp and sweaty from our lovemaking. Her wide blue eyes hold mine with an expression that causes my heart to seize up.

  There’s such trust in those eyes.

  I’m such an asshole! A selfish bastard who wants her for myself, even if I’ve deceived her to get her. And a lie by omission is still a lie. Truth be told, it wasn’t even a lie by omission. It was an outright, boldfaced lie.

  It would devastate her if she knew.

  She asked me if I’d told her everything about myself. I’d said yes. But that wasn’t the truth. If she knew the truth, it could destroy everything.

  “What are you thinking?” Abby asks, stroking my pectoral muscles. She has a gleam in her eyes. We’ve just had the hottest sex of my life, and I can tell by her expression that she wants more. She’s been insatiable ever since we gave ourselves to each other fully. She can’t seem to get enough. The feeling is mutual. I can’t get enough of her, either. She’s become my whole world.

  I love that she’s turned into a wildcat since our first time together. It’s as if something primal and fierce and raw has been unleashed in her, that sexual part of herself that she denied for so long. It’s as if she’s broken free from her past and all the pain that was holding her back. She thinks I have, too. Part of me has, that’s true.

  But part of me is still caged. Still broken. Still running.

  She shifts her body closer, distracting me. She runs a finger down my abs, and then lower, beneath the thin sheet covering us. I inhale at her touch. My body always responds to her, more than it has with any other woman. Even more than it did with Mia, which sometimes jolts me with a flash of guilt. But then I push it away. I know Mia would want me to be happy. I know she would want me to move on. That’s what our relationship was like. We wanted the best for each other.

  Mia is gone, and Abigail is real, alive, right here with me. I won’t let sadness and regret cloud my heart and ruin the moment like it has done so many times before. I won’t deny myself the experience of living any longer.

  I close my eyes and allow Abigail’s touch to consume me. She’s stroking me, up and down with her soft hand, until my hardness swells against her palm. I let out a low grown, feeling myself twitch in her grasp. She strokes slowly at first, and then more quickly. I’m still slick with her juices, and her tight palm sliding up and down my erection nearly sends me over the edge. My sack tightens, and I let out another low groan, reaching for her. She owns every part of me, just as I own every part of her.

  “I want you,” I whisper huskily. “I want all of you.”

  She gives a soft moan. Her eyes are closed and lips parted. She has one hand pressed against my chest while the other works me below the sheets.

  I slide my palms over her full curves, over the rounded swell of her bare breasts and her soft tummy. I lean down and kiss her, and I feel her softness acquiescing under me as it always does when we make love.

  She acted so hard and tough when I first met her, like a New York City girl born and bred, even though she’d only set foot in the city for the first time the day I met her. But I knew better. I knew she wasn’t tough at all. I immediately saw past her shell to the gentle soul beneath. That’s what captivated me. Her gentleness. Her sweet spirit, barely hidden behind her false bravado.

  She would deny she’s gentle, of course, but I see it every time she gazes at me. I see it when she talks to her mother on the phone, the way her voice takes on a tender quality that makes me want to make her the mother of my children. And I feel it in the way she gives herself so completely to me, both physically and emotionally, with a sweet vulnerability that makes me vow to never hurt her.

  But then I remember that I am going to hurt her. And then part of me pulls away, retreats. Because to see Abigail in pain will kill me. Especially if I’m the cause of it.

  I push those thoughts away once again, although in the back of my mind I know there’s a dark cloud hanging over our relationship. Instead, I give her what she craves, as that’s the only way I can truly tell her how I feel about her.

  If I’m going to hurt her with my words later, then I’m sure as hell going to love her with my body right now. It’s the least she deserves. And maybe, just maybe, she’ll remember the love she felt in my caresses, in my embrace, in my gaze when her world comes tumbling down around her.

  And if she remembers, then maybe she’ll find it in her heart to forgive me.

  So love her I do. With every inch of my being.

  I take her t
ightly in my arms, and then roll over onto her, kissing her hard and tangling my hands in her hair. I can feel the soft mounds of her breasts pressing against my chest, flattening beneath my weight. I prop myself up slightly so as not to crush her, but she pulls me down.

  “I love feeling you take me over,” she whispers. “I love feeling you consume me.”

  “You consume me, too,” I whisper hoarsely. And then I kiss her so hard that she gasps.

  She strokes her fingers down my back and wraps her legs around my hips. I press my girth against her inner thigh, feeling her moisture so ready for me. Part of me wants to sink into her sweet flesh right now, to take all of her in this instant and satisfy my aching hunger, but a larger part of me wants to savor the moment…and everything about her. So instead, I hover near her entrance while she writhes and clutches at my back, wiggling herself closer to try to inch me in. I kiss her plump lips, her soft cheek, her neck while I run my hands down her waist, and then lower, where I palm her soft buttocks. She raises herself slightly, angling upward, and I grip her with both hands.

  God, how I want to drive into her! But I hold myself back, teasing her.

  “Please,” she whimpers. “You’re driving me crazy.”

  “That’s the idea, babe,” I growl in her ear. I inch down and begin kissing her breasts while softly kneading them at the same time. She gasps when I draw a nipple into my mouth, causing it to tighten into a hard, stiff point. I suck lightly as she gasps and arches her back. Then I find the other nipple, and take it into my mouth.

  She’s practically purring. I start to inch lower, teasing her still, but she bucks up with such force that it startles me, and grips my back with her legs. Her face is flushed, and her eyes are glazed.

  “Take me,” she gasps. “I can’t bear it any longer.” I pin her, grinding myself against her body, feeling her wetness coat my length, but still not giving her what she wants. She arches and bucks and writhes, trying to drive me into her soft folds, but instead I tease at her entrance with my bulbous tip, feeling her heat and moisture and desire so ready for me.

  “Please!” she cries.

  I’d planned on drawing this out longer, teasing her more, but I can’t bear it any longer myself. She’s too hungry for me. Too wet and ready.

  “I need you inside me. I need you now,” she begs, clutching at my back and angling her hips so my swollen cap probes her entrance.

  That’s the last of my resolve.

  I pull back slightly, and then push into her with one strong thrust. As I sink into her tight, wet folds, I feel her soft tissues give way beneath me. She gasps and moans and cries out. Her legs are gripped around my backside, driving me farther into her. I slide through her slick channel, savoring the feel of her snugness gripping my length.

  She claws at my back, arching her hips upward. I drive into her again, taking her fully, and she screams out in a sound of high-pitched, female ecstasy.

  She’s sopping wet, and so hot and tight, that I can’t think beyond this moment and what she’s doing to me. I can’t think beyond us and the pleasure. The sweet, intoxicating pleasure.

  That’s how I like it.

  She’s the ultimate anesthesia against the past. And she’s also the drug that makes me feel alive.

  I grab her hands and hold them above her head, tangling my fingers with hers. Then I drive into her with a punishing rhythm, taking her with everything I have. I propel my aching, pulsing length in and out of her so hard that her breasts bounce and roll. She pushes up equally hard to meet my hard thrusts. Her eyes are glazed and her bangs plastered across her forehead.

  I have never seen a sexier woman. God, she turns me on! I feel myself swell inside her, ready to unleash, but I hold myself back.

  Our gasps and moans fill the room. She’s on fire, a wildcat bucking beneath me. I grit my teeth, trying to keep from coming but it’s impossible as I feel her hot, slick core tighten and pulse around me.

  “I’m coming!” she gasps, shuddering beneath me, and then lets out a long, pleasure-filled primal cry that breaks me apart. I ejaculate like a pistol with a primal howl of my own. My cock pulses and throbs deep within her body. I feel her inner folds rhythmically milking my hot seed out of me. I shudder, my heart pounding. My body is covered with sweat, and every muscle in my body is tense. I’m in another world, completely consumed by her…filling her up as she fills me up.

  “Abby!” I shout, and then, finally, I collapse on top of her.

  I bury my face in her neck, holding her tightly in my arms. She’s everything to me. She’s my reason for getting up in the morning, and my reason for going to sleep. She’s my joy, my happiness, and the person I look forward to seeing every day. She’s breathed new life into me, and part of me is frightened by how much I need her.

  I know she needs me, too, and that’s the only thing that calms me a bit. The only thing that brings me any peace.

  But the peace is short-lived when I once again remember what I have to tell her.

  I just hope she forgives me.

  two

  I’ve been pacing the apartment for the past hour. Abby is at work, selling real estate to high-powered clients. I should be working, too, but I haven’t turned on my laptop since I awoke.

  Last night was filled with restless dreams. Well, more like nightmares. First, there was my wife’s face haunting my sleep, the way it sometimes does. It’s not the good memories that come to me when I sleep, though. It’s her blank, staring eyes when I found her. I’ve never been able to shake that memory, and I seem to dream about her more often when I’m under stress.

  And my lie is creating such stress in me right now that I’m barely able to function.

  I have to figure out a way to tell Abby, even if it means she leaves me.

  She deserves to know the truth.

  The other dreams that kept me from sleep were all about her. I dreamt she was crying when she found out my secret…my lie. She was throwing things and cursing and saying I betrayed her. She said I’d broken her heart.

  I awoke with a racing heart, bathed in sweat.

  I haven’t been able to think properly since.

  I need to talk to someone. I need to get some advice.

  But who?

  I don’t have any close guy friends. I’ve always flown solo in that way. I’ve never been one to go hang out with the guys at a bar, or talk sports, or do the things that most buddies do together. I’ve always just put my head down and worked hard. Women in my past, including Mia, have accused me of being a workaholic. Maybe I am. But I’ve never really seen the point of hanging out with the guys during my rare moments of free time.

  I’d much rather hang out with a beautiful woman like Abigail.

  I pace the apartment some more, and then go to the large windows and look down at the bustling city below. So many people. So many lives. And not one I can talk to right now to help me with my problem.

  Suddenly, Isabella’s face flashes across my mind. Isabella Talbot is Abby’s best friend. Unfortunately, she’s also Anthony Valenta’s fiancée. Anthony isn’t exactly one of my favorite guys.

  Besides, it’s not as if I could just call Isabella up out of the blue and say, “Hi, it’s Liam. Can we meet somewhere to talk? I need your advice about something.”

  It would be too weird, and besides, Anthony and I haven’t exactly been friendly over the years. Truth be told, I don’t hate him. I really don’t. I don’t even carry much of a grudge toward him.

  It’s just that it’s too painful to be around the guy who slept with my wife when we were on a break, the only other man who ever shared her body. Mia was a virgin when she met me. I’d hoped she would always stay mine. But she didn’t, not after Anthony got to her. Even after Mia and I got back together, I always suspected that she and Anthony maintained an attraction toward each other.

  I could be wrong, but I doubt it. I can’t ever forget the way he looked at her, even when I was right next to her, and the way she seemed to light up, to
o. The memory of it makes me want to punch a wall.

  That’s all in the past now, I remind myself. Mia is gone, and Anthony is in love with someone else.

  But still, the pain lingers.

  I can’t keep avoiding Anthony Valenta, though, especially since it’s clear Anthony and Isabella are going to stay together. I have no doubt that Abby will one day be in Isabella’s wedding. Through Isabella’s friendship with Abby, I’m going to be seeing a lot of Anthony Valenta, like it or not.

  I consider picking up the phone and calling Isabella. There’s something about her that I trust. I know she cares about Abigail, and I know she would give me good advice.

  Despite the panic rising in my throat again, I pick up my cell phone and scroll through a list of Abby’s friends and business associates until I find the number of her best friend, Isabella Talbot.

  I grit my teeth and, nervously rubbing the stubble on my chin, dial her number.

  Isabella answers on the second ring. “Hello?”

  I clear my throat. “Isabella, it’s Liam Black.”

  There’s a pause, and then she says in a friendly tone, “Hi, Liam. What can I do for you? Is everything okay?”

  “It’s fine. I was just hoping…” I pause and clear my throat. “I need to talk to you about something. Actually, get your advice. I know this probably seems strange, me calling you out of the blue, but it involves Abigail.”

  “Okay,” she says. She sounds hesitant, worried. “Is everything all right?”

  “She’s fine. Well, she is for now. Can I meet you somewhere? It’s urgent.”

  I can hear her inhale sharply on the other end. “Okay, then why don’t you come over? There’s no one else here right now. Have you had lunch yet?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, I’ll make us some chicken-salad sandwiches. Do you have my address?”

  “Let me get it.” I vaguely realize that my hands are clammy when I write down Isabella’s address. I’m acting like a damn fool. A mess. But I can’t help it. I’m jeopardizing the most important thing that has ever happened to me in my life.