Desperate Lies

by Ella Miles

  I take a deep breath, breathing in her scent—lavender and something floral. When I exhale down her neck, I watch her shiver.

  I put my hands in the pockets of my jeans to keep from touching her.

  Not yet.

  Soon, though, I’ll be able to touch her.

  It won’t take long to break her—to get her begging to be touched.

  My eyes run down her body from head to toe. I linger over her hair—long and wavy and slightly frizzier than usual, untamed. My eyes heat over the curves of her breasts and hips and then down her slim legs to her oversized boots. She doesn’t look like the Liesel I’ve known all my life. She’s not wearing the right clothes, and her makeup isn’t caked on. But somehow, standing there with that damn knife in her hand, she’s never looked more incredible.

  My eyes snap back up, meeting hers.

  She shivers once again.

  “Cold?”

  “Hmm.”

  I shrug my jacket off and drape it over her shoulders. I let my fingers graze her arms as I pull the jacket tighter in front of her. My hands grip her hips before I even realize I’m touching her.

  “Better?” I ask.

  “Hmm.”

  I’ve made her speechless. Although, I’m not much better. I only got one word out.

  I have to take back control. I can’t let her affect me. I have to beat her at her own game.

  I lick my lips.

  Her mouth parts.

  The air changes—she’s in a daze.

  “Kiss me,” she says suddenly.

  She’s lost her mind, but she doesn’t have to tell me twice.

  I press my lips against hers, reveling in how incredible her soft lips feel against mine. But I’m greedy, and I want more than just the softness. I want the taste of her sweetness, the battle of her tongue with mine, the moans she makes when I make her feel alive.

  This kiss is just as mind-blowing as our last kiss and so much more. This kiss isn’t about chasing demons away. This kiss is about need, desire, want. It’s about taking back what’s mine.

  I don’t give a damn if Liesel is married or not. I can steal her back either way.

  “Tell me to stop,” I say against her lips.

  “Sss…” She doesn’t make it past the first letter before she’s kissing me again.

  I smirk against her lips, slowing her kisses. As much as I would love to lose myself in this kiss, I can’t. I’m here on a mission, and I won’t let earth-shattering kisses stand in my way.

  “So, you’re a cheater, then?” I ask as I pull her hips tightly against mine, pressing my hardness against her jeans.

  “Huh?” she moans.

  “You have an open marriage? Waylon doesn’t mind you kissing strange men?”

  “What? No.”

  She puts her empty hand against my chest.

  “Tell me to stop,” I repeat.

  She breathes hard and fast, her lips devouring over mine. She rocks back and forward, letting our hips rub before falling back.

  She wants this.

  She wants me.

  But something is holding her back. Is she really married? Is she just dating that asshole? Does she not care about him at all?

  “Sto…” She takes a deep breath. “Stop.”

  “That took far too long for a married woman. Unless you don’t mind being a cheater?”

  “I’m not a cheater,” she growls, getting her voice back.

  “You’re the one who asked me to kiss you.” I don’t back away. My hands are still on her hips, and hers are now both on my chest, still holding the knife. But she doesn’t push me away. She lets me stay close.

  “I. Am. Not. A. Cheater.”

  “Then you’re not married?”

  Liesel looks at me with a fierceness in her eyes. She’s about to try and use the knife on me because she’s pissed I won. That I got in her head and got me to kiss her.

  Just like I knew she would, she throws her arms up, trying to strike me with the knife in the neck. But I catch her wrist and hold the knife suspended in the air between us.

  Her face is locked on mine. She’s trying to be a shell. She’s trying to keep her emotions off her face, but I notice the lift of her lips in a hint of a smile before her lip quivers, and her eyes widen.

  “Please,” she trembles.

  My eyes search hers for answers. Why did she just flip a switch? How did she go from lust to anger to fear in three seconds?

  “Get your hands off my wife,” Waylon says from behind me.

  And then Liesel can’t keep the smirk off her face. It flashes for only a second. Only long enough for me to notice, but not long enough for Waylon to see it.

  She got the knife to frame me.

  She asked me to kiss her to force me close, so that in Waylon’s eyes, it looks like I’m attacking her.

  I have a decision to make. Do I let her win—go and walk out the door? Or do I fight back?

  Liesel knows that if I wanted to take down Waylon right now, I could. Did she just sign Waylon’s death sentence, all for a chance to beat me?

  “We aren’t finished. I’ll let you win this round, but I still want answers. And your time is running out. You have twenty-four hours to decide if you want to finish the game here or back on my island. But remember whom you are risking if you choose to finish our game here,” I whisper so only she can hear.

  I let go of her arm.

  I half expect when I turn around for Waylon to have a gun pointed at my head. For him to be holding a bat, something.

  Instead, he’s standing there in a suit. His graying hair is slicked back, and there is a drop of blood on his jawline from where he cut himself shaving.

  “I called the police. Get out if you don’t want to spend the rest of your life in jail,” Waylon says.

  I shake my head. Lawyers—they are all the same. Cocky smart-alecks who think the police will step in and save them. They don’t know that if the police showed up, they’d just look the other way as soon as I paid them off or whispered my name.

  The only thing protecting Waylon right now is that I want to know who Waylon truly is to Liesel before I kill him. Whether he’s truly her husband, the love of her life, or just a man she fucks because she’s lonely. I’ll figure it out.

  I don’t speak as I walk out the door like a stranger back into the night. The man isn’t worth my words.

  The door slams behind me. A heaviness weighs me down as I ride the elevator down.

  Wife.

  Waylon called Liesel his wife.

  She had to have warned him before I got here to call her that, to pretend they are married. Right?

  Liesel Dunn can’t be married.

  Can’t. Be.

  My steel heart hardens. It won’t break. It won’t even crack. Not for her.

  Liesel may think Waylon calling her his wife is confirmation that she’s married, but it’s not. I want her to tell me the truth. Sure, I could look up her marriage license with the city, but what fun is that?

  No, after her little stunt, I’m going to pull every truth I can from her, until the truth kills her.

  5

  Liesel

  Langston walks out the door, and then it slams shut.

  I stand frozen—pretending I’m in shock. I am, but not because Langston threatened my life. In fact, he offered to give me more time if I told him the truth. He gave me a chance to save my life if only I answered one question.

  The only problem is that I don’t know the answer because I don’t know the question. I don’t know what specific truth matters above all others. The one that matters beyond the secrets only I know from the ripped paper.

  None of that is the reason I’m in shock.

  That fucking kiss.

  Waylon runs over to me and consumes me in his muscular arms, yanking me against his hard chest.

  “Shh, I’ve got you. I’ve got you. I won’t let that man or anyone hurt you,” Waylon says.

  I should feel safe with his ar
ms around me. His thick chest is as protective as any armor. His soothing voice normally eases my tensions.

  Instead, I feel rattled. My body trembles, and I feel empty.

  My brain is trying to process Waylon’s words. I’m trying to come up with a plan to explain Langston to Waylon. To figure out how to defeat Langston while keeping myself and Waylon safe.

  But.

  That.

  Kiss.

  I planned it, knowing that it would knock Langston off balance. It would bring him in close and help me set a trap where Waylon would find us close.

  But I was the one knocked askew as soon as our lips touched. The spark at our touch took hold of every nerve ending and brain cell in my body. The entire time he was kissing me, I forgot about my plan. I forgot that Langston is the enemy.

  “You’re trembling. It’s okay, baby. Try to take a deep breath. You’re safe,” Waylon says.

  He doesn’t realize that I’m not safe. I’m never safe.

  I take a deep breath—trying to shake the sparks still shooting off my body. My adrenaline is up, which is probably why I’m shaking. I crave more kisses, more of his touch, just more.

  I won. I won’t let the memories of Langston take the victory from me. He doesn’t get to win by taking my thoughts, my cravings, my body.

  I grip onto Waylon’s forearms while I lean back, looking into his eyes.

  He smiles down at me sweetly. He really is a sweet, kindhearted man. He’s what I need, not Langston.

  “Kiss me,” I whisper. I meant to speak stronger, more assertively, but I’m too shaken up. As much as I want to get rid of Langston’s touch, I also want to wallow in it, no matter how much pain it will eventually bring me. I don’t want to forget Langston’s kiss, but I need to.

  Waylon, who can never deny me, leans down and plants the softest kiss, barely brushing his lips against mine. That won’t be enough to wipe Langston from my memory.

  I reach up, grabbing onto his sculpted neck and parting his lips with my tongue, pushing deep inside his mouth, begging for him to kiss me with all of his passion.

  Waylon takes the hint. He’s so perceptive, always listening to the little clues I give him.

  He pushes me back until my ass is against the counter. His hands grip my hips firmly but not in a controlling way. His thick, hard muscles push against me until I feel his cock pressing against my stomach. His tongue sweeps in my mouth, commanding my attention as it dances over mine.

  I should feel that all-consuming, heart-stopping, breathless emotion. That emotion one step below love or, at the very least, deep lust.

  This kiss is barely getting my heart thumping, though. My body didn’t come alive. The spark didn’t fan into flames. And worst of all, it didn’t wipe any memory of Langston’s kiss from my brain, my body, my heart.

  Langston is just a good kisser. That’s all it is.

  There is no way a man like that kissed me while married. If he is married, he sure as hell isn’t in love. You can’t kiss another woman if you love your wife.

  “Liesel?” Waylon asks, searching my eyes for my thoughts as he pulls away.

  I shake off the memories, but that will only last for a moment at best before Langston will weasel his way back into my head. It’s clear Waylon must have asked me a question, but I didn’t hear it.

  “Sorry, I’m still a little frazzled. What did you say?”

  Waylon’s hands are still on me, afraid I’ll fall to pieces. He’s probably right, but it’s because of that damn kiss, not because I had a knife pressed against my neck.

  “Can you tell me what happened before I actually call the police?” Waylon asks.

  I take a deep breath as I prepare the lie. “There was a knock at the door after you went to the shower. I assumed it was a package being delivered. When I opened the door, he grabbed me and held a knife to my throat. He told me he wanted money and information about your campaign plans. And then you walked in.”

  “Oh, baby. I’m so sorry.” Waylon pulls me to him again.

  “It’s okay. I’m okay now, but I think we should hire some security.” Security won’t stop Langston, but it might slow him down.

  Waylon nods. “I agree. I’ll double the amount of security we were planning. And I think we should start my campaign for governor as soon as possible. Actually being on the campaign trail will make a statement to those trying to attack us that we aren’t afraid. That we have security who will protect us and throw any criminal who comes at us in jail.”

  “I don’t think we should call the police.”

  “Why not?” Waylon wrinkles his forehead.

  “We don’t want anyone to know we were attacked. Our security team can find the man who did this without a public investigation.”

  His eyes roll up for a minute, and then he lets out an exacerbated breath. “You’re right. It just means you can’t go anywhere without security or me by your side. No more answering doors by yourself. Are you okay with that?”

  I suck in a breath. No, I’m not okay with that. It means giving up control to someone else, relying on someone else for protection. It’s what I did when I was part of Enzo’s gang of minions. I vowed to never do it again.

  But this isn’t about keeping me safe, not really. It’s about doing everything I can to protect Waylon.

  “I understand.”

  Waylon’s raised shoulders relax as he exhales.

  “You have no idea how terrified I was watching that man hold a knife to your throat. I never want to be that scared again. I’d give up everything—my work, my campaign, my money, my life to never have you threatened again. I can’t lose you, my love.”

  I put my arms around Waylon. “I can’t lose you either.”

  He kisses the top of my head in a move that’s meant to make me feel safe and loved—two things I’ve never been.

  “I need to make some calls. You going to be okay?”

  I nod. “I’m going to shower. Then you can talk to me about your plans for our security and your first campaign events.”

  “I’m so lucky I have you.”

  “Me too.”

  Then I walk down the hallway to the bathroom.

  I close the bathroom door and take a deep breath as I slink to the floor. I close my eyes, trying to push Langston out, but he floods my head.

  His hands on mine.

  His body pressed against mine.

  His lips…

  STOP! I can’t think about any of that.

  Langston’s body is replaced by his words in my mind. He said I have twenty-four hours to decide if I want to finish the game here or back on his island. But if I choose to finish our game here, he threatened Waylon.

  I don’t want to risk Waylon’s life, but it’s not about choosing between keeping him safe or not. Langston will hang Waylon’s life over me no matter where I fight Langston.

  This is about choosing between the two men. Who do I trust? Whose side do I want to be on?

  The choice is easy—Waylon.

  It has to be Waylon. I can’t choose Langston.

  All that’s left to do is to convince my body it wants Waylon, not Langston.

  I shower and get dressed.

  I listen while Waylon talks to me about hiring security and starting his campaign.

  Then I kiss him goodnight. I should fuck him, remind my body whom it craves.

  I can’t.

  I’m exhausted, and my body is buzzing for another man. I need space and time. Only then will I be able to reconnect with Waylon.

  “I’m here if you need me, but I need to finish some calls before I come to bed,” Waylon says.

  “I’m going to take a long, relaxing bath, and then I’ll meet you in bed.”

  “You deserve to relax.”

  I walk to the bathroom and start filling the tub when my cell phone rings.

  If it’s Siren or Kai, I’m not answering. I’m pissed at Siren for ratting me out, and I don’t want Kai’s sympathy. If it’s anyone calling ab
out any of Waylon’s plans, I’m too tired to listen.

  I stare at the name. I intended to turn the phone off, to not answer.

  But with one flash of his name, my heart skips, and my insides warm.

  My thumb hovers over the button.

  Just turn it off. Turn off the phone and enjoy your bath.

  Somehow, my thumb brushes against the answer button. I bring the phone up to my ear, and I speak.

  6

  Langston

  Liesel answers the phone.

  I wasn’t sure if she would or if I would have to sneak over in the middle of the night to drag her out of bed and force her to talk to me.

  “Hello,” her voice is breathy as she answers.

  “Have you decided? Are we finishing this here or on the island?”

  She shakes her head on my monitor screen. I’m watching her from my hotel room across the street from her building. “Really? We aren’t even going to talk about the fact that I tricked you and won? How does your wife feel about you kissing me?”

  “My wife is none of your concern,” I snap back.

  She turns off the tub faucet but keeps the phone near her ear.

  “I have eighteen hours left to decide according to you. I won’t give you an answer until then.”

  “But you’ve already decided.”

  She frowns but doesn’t speak, which only confirms my guess.

  “Are we done? I’m sure you’ll find me when my twenty-four-hours are up so you can get my answer then.”

  “We aren’t done.”

  “I would like to enjoy some peace and quiet, so can we hurry this along?”

  “Why? Anxious to get into that bath so you can touch yourself to the memory of our kiss?” My voice is a low, deep timbre that practically vibrates through the phone and down her body.

  She shivers at my words.

  “You’re watching me?”

  “Yes,” I hum.

  More shivers. Her cheeks pink. Her eyes search the bathroom.

  “Where did you put the camera?”

  “Does it matter? Are you planning on putting on a show for me?”

  “I’m planning on showing you what you will never have.”