Lie to Me

by McAdams, Molly

  It also helped me understand why Reed viewed Leah as family and assumed Peter did too. But Peter didn’t look at me or talk to me the way he did Leah. I was sure of it.

  “I really appreciate it,” Peter said when I finished putting the last of the dishes away. “But you didn’t have to do that.”

  I shrugged and turned to lean against the sink. “You made everything.”

  “Yeah, but you’re a guest,” he said, repeating what he’d said multiple times when I’d started cleaning up. Only this time, the slow words faltered. “Hey, why don’t you go crash?”

  I looked over at him, my eyebrows drawing close. “What?”

  “You look like you’re about to fall over, and it’s . . .”—he glanced at the oven before looking at me—“sort of late. Go crash.”

  “Here?”

  “Were you planning on staying awake until Reed got home?” he asked a little uncertainly.

  “I . . .” I blinked slowly because I hadn’t thought that through. I’d just been planning on waiting outside.

  “Reed also happens to have a bed,” he said pointedly.

  “I’m not going to sleep in his bed when he isn’t here.”

  He gave me an incredulous look. “Why? I mean, you already took a shower here, and that’s super, fucking inappropriate.” A loud laugh left him when my mouth fell open in horror. “Kidding, Emma. Go to sleep.” When I wavered too long, he asked, “Would you feel better if I asked him?”

  I narrowed my eyes and pushed from the sink in response, earning another laugh from him.

  But when I passed him on the way to the hall leading to Reed’s room, I stopped. The question I’d been pondering for over a week pouring out as I turned back to face him.

  “Do you love Leah?”

  He slowly looked over his shoulder, everything about him different than it had been just seconds before. As if he was holding himself so tight so he wouldn’t react in ways he wasn’t supposed to—in ways he couldn’t—when it came to just hearing her name.

  Clearing his throat, he gave a subtle nod. “We, uh . . . we all do.”

  “No, are you in love with her?”

  “She’s married.” His answer was immediate and filled with a horrible mixture of pain and loathing.

  “That isn’t what I asked.”

  His jaw worked for a while before he muttered, “I won’t answer that.”

  I nodded, accepting the truth he’d given me within his non-answer. “I’m not going to tell Reed, I just . . .”

  Just what, Emma?

  Because I didn’t need to be interfering in people’s personal lives. I didn’t need to be revealing what was waiting to fall from my tongue—that wasn’t what I did with people before Reed, and I wasn’t going to start then.

  I hadn’t even told Reed about Jarrod.

  But I also saw the way Leah looked at Peter, how she looked just talking about him . . . and I knew how kind she was to complete strangers. How unsuspecting she was when it came to her disgusting husband—to her marriage.

  “She shouldn’t be in the marriage she’s in.” The air rushed from my lungs at stepping over a line that shouldn’t be crossed.

  “Yeah, you don’t have to tell me that,” Peter ground out. “Her husband’s an asshole.”

  My head shook because I could hear in his tone that whatever Peter knew about her husband, it wasn’t what I knew. “Peter, he is not a good man,” I confessed on a reluctant breath.

  He pushed from the counter and twisted to face me, a crease forming between his eyebrows as he studied me.

  I started backward, raising my hands apologetically for what I’d already said.

  “Emma—”

  “Goodnight,” I said quickly.

  “Emma, what do you know?” he demanded, begged, as he started after me.

  “That’s all. I shouldn’t have said anything,” I stammered as my steps quickened. “Please stop following me!”

  He stopped as if he’d run into a wall, hands slightly lifted at his sides to show he wasn’t moving. “Emma, please.”

  “It’s like you said—he’s an asshole. That’s all,” I said through clenched teeth, body shaking slightly as I regretted ever saying a word. “I’m going to bed. Do not follow me.”

  “I’m not gonna follow you,” he assured me. “Just tell me if he’s hurting her.”

  I reared back, caught off guard by the thought. “No. I mean . . . I wouldn’t know. You know her better than I do.”

  He nodded, some relief seeming to ease his rigid stance as he put more distance between us. “I’m sorry for . . .” He gestured to me, then gripped at the back of his neck. “Sorry. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight,” I mumbled as I hurried to Reed’s room, locking the door behind me and sagging against it as regret and shame wove through me.

  I quietly stepped through my room, eyes having already adjusted to the dark from the house, and stopped at the foot of my bed when I saw her there.

  In my bed.

  The sight of her did crazy things to my heart. Like she belonged there. Like I would do anything to come home every morning to her waiting for me the way she was then.

  I rounded the bed, a little smile tugging at the corner of my mouth when I saw her heels placed carelessly next to my dresser, and carefully eased myself onto the edge of the bed beside her. Prepared for when she would wake.

  Her reaction.

  Her shoving palms.

  I could’ve changed first to make this easier, but if we were ever going to survive, we had to make it through her haunting past. The uniform I was wearing was one of them, I already knew. But this was bigger: Being woken in the middle of the night to find someone else there.

  It was why I’d just had to pick my own lock—not that I’d been surprised. Rowe had called to let me know he’d scared Emma. So, I’d been expecting a locked door at the very least.

  “Emma,” I whispered as I trailed my finger down her jaw. Quickly catching her hands in mine when they shot out in front of her and then easing them to my chest so she could still feel me. “It’s me.”

  A shuddering breath left her, her body sagging against the bed and hands relaxing beneath mine. But seconds later, her hands went rigid. “Are you in uniform?”

  “Yeah. Do you think you could help me with something?” I lifted one of her hands and passed my mouth across her palm. “You have to get out of bed for it.” When her hesitation bled through the dark, I asked, “Trust me?”

  Her hand relaxed in mine. “Yes.”

  With another kiss to her palm, I stood from the bed and walked across the room to turn on the light, warning her just before I did. A groan building in my chest when I turned and saw her stumble adorably out of the bed.

  In my clothes.

  “Jesus,” I muttered.

  She stopped, blinking quickly against the light and then dropping her head to see what I was looking at. “Oh, I’m sorry. I—”

  “Don’t.” My head shook. “Don’t be sorry.” I just hadn’t thought it was possible to want her more than I already did until that moment.

  And I needed a clear head for what we were about to do.

  Forcing my stare away, I glanced to the bathroom only for my attention to drag back to her as I said, “Uh . . . closet. We have to go to the closet.” I suppressed another groan and headed to the walk-in closet attached to the bathroom.

  When she followed me in, her eyes fell on everything in there, taking it all in before focusing on me—making sure not to look at my uniform. “What do you need help with?”

  Holding my hand out for her, I waited until she took it and then stepped back to where my empty shelves and hooks waited. “I want you to see that what I’m wearing can’t hurt you,” I said softly. “That it’s just objects and clothes.”

  Emma’s expression shifted from confusion to worry in an instant. “What?”

  “I want you to take off my uniform.”

  “No.” Horror dripped from the small wor
d, her eyes widening with a terror I couldn’t begin to understand.

  “Trust me.”

  “I—” A stuttered breath heaved from her and her tongue darted out to wet her lips.

  “Hey,” I breathed, curling my hand around hers and pulling her closer. “I can’t take away what happened to you—no matter how much I want to. But I can try to change what you see when you see me like this. I can try to give you other memories.” Placing her hand on my chest, I waited until her eyes met mine and repeated, “What I’m wearing can’t hurt you. Let me show you that.”

  “Okay.” The word was a reluctant whisper, but she pulled her hand from mine and reached for the buckle on my duty belt like she knew from experience that it needed to go.

  And I fucking hated it for her.

  I stilled her hands before she could reach it and said, “Radio first.”

  “Oh,” she said numbly, looking for where it was attached to the belt and me.

  “It’s already turned off, you won’t hear anything,” I assured her as I showed her what to do and where to place it to charge without actually touching anything.

  She nodded as I spoke, stare focused on her trembling hands and what she was doing. Once she was looking at my duty belt again, she stopped, glassy eyes taking in everything still attached to it. “Um . . .”

  “All that stays on,” I said gently, then pointed out the keepers that held the belt in place. “There’s a few of them.”

  Once those were on a shelf and she was placing the heavy belt on the waiting hooks, she turned back to me just as the first tear slipped free and ripped at my soul.

  “Cheek,” I whispered as I lifted my hand and cradled her face in my palm, wiping at the tear and searching her eyes.

  She sucked in a deep breath and leaned harder against me.

  “You’re so strong.” I wrapped my other arm around her waist and lowered my forehead to hers. “I love you. I love you, I’m sorry.”

  Her head shook against mine before nodding fiercely, and then she was pressing her lips to mine. The kiss a soft, tentative claim of her own. “How do I take this off?” she asked, touching the camera on my chest.

  “Pull it.”

  She gasped when the strong magnet finally released, a startled laugh dancing on her lips that I leaned in to taste.

  “Just an object,” I repeated against the kiss as she blindly placed it on one of the shelves.

  Her fingers wove through my short hair, her eyelids squeezing tight for a few moments before she stole one last, slow kiss, then cautiously asked, “Now what?”

  I walked her through the rest, letting her do every part of it and watching as her eyes cleared and her shaking gradually ceased. The entire process taking a hell of a lot longer than I’d meant for it to as our kisses came more and more frequently. Lingering and heating until I had my hands filled with her, and she was dropping my Kevlar vest on the floor.

  “I don’t think that’s where I was supposed to put it,” she breathed against my mouth, whimpering when I caught her bottom lip between my teeth.

  “I don’t give a fuck.” A growl raked up my throat and my head dropped back when her fingers went to the top of my pants. “Jesus Christ, Emma, you need to stop.”

  “You said—”

  “I know what I said, but if we’re gonna stop, then I need you to stop.”

  She looked at me, all wide, passionate eyes as she carefully resumed undoing my pants.

  “Emma . . .”

  “It’s just clothes,” she whispered as she let them fall around my ankles, tossing my words back at me. But this was different.

  The slight hitch in her voice, the waver of fear and wonder and need said this had changed to something else.

  “We don’t have to do this,” I said as she reached for the hem of my undershirt. “We don’t have to do anything.”

  “Kiss me.”

  My mouth was on hers before the words finished leaving her, claiming her and pouring every ounce of my soul into that kiss. All demanding lips and teasing tongues and nipping teeth as I grabbed the back of my shirt and finished taking it off for her.

  The muscles in my stomach twitched and tensed as she lightly ran her fingers down my skin, my cock aching when she stopped at the band of my boxer briefs—trailing along the edge before tentatively dipping just inside.

  “I want you.” Her head lowered to my chest. “I want to try.”

  I pressed my fingers under her chin to lift her head. “We don’t have to do this.”

  “I want to. I want to with you.”

  I studied her features, all that need and desire and fear, before lifting one of her hands so she could feel the absolute chaos she was inflicting on my heart.

  Keeping her hand there, I slowly started walking her backward, out of the closet, never taking my stare off hers. “You push at any time, we stop,” I assured her.

  “I trust you.”

  I captured her lips, pulling her closer and turning her in my arms until her back was to my chest. Tilting her head back, I took and took and took from her until she fully relaxed. Falling into me and that kiss in a way that made me want to do anything to always be worthy of the trust she was giving me.

  “I love you.” It was a breath, a vow, all wrapped up in awe for the girl in my arms. “Now, open your eyes.”

  Once she was looking at me, I gently turned her head so she was facing forward and looking at our reflection in the bathroom mirrors.

  “I’m in control of this,” I said, teasing the slope of her neck with my teeth. “So, I want you watching. Seeing what we look like together and how fucking beautiful you are. Seeing how your body responds to me when it’s something you want.” I trailed my hands lower with each sentence until I was gripping the top of my shorts she was wearing.

  Her eyes met mine in the mirror, wide with all that fear even as her cheeks flooded with heat.

  “Pushing?”

  “No.”

  Holding her stare, I placed slow, open-mouthed kisses down her neck and across her shoulder as I lifted the shirt she was wearing until my arm was banded around her waist, leaving her stomach exposed. My thumb brushed across her smooth skin as I gently eased the shorts lower until I was teasing where she was already bared for me and the material was one move from slipping past her hips.

  The material fell and she slowly stepped out of it, eyes locked on mine in a show of trust that threatened to bring me to my knees.

  I trailed my fingers along her stomach, watching her reaction as I went lower and lower and dipped between her thighs. A groan raking up my throat when I slid my fingers between her slick folds and pressed into her heat.

  “Fuck,” I muttered as I pressed my forehead to her shoulder, fighting the impulse to get lost in her when I knew I needed to be watching and feeling every response from her. But, Jesus, just the feel of her gripping my fingers was enough to make me forget my name.

  I looked up as a tremor ripped through her body, but her expression had me continuing as I slowly pumped my fingers in and out of her. Giving her time to simply feel me before I slid them back through her folds and teased her clit. Holding her tight as half a dozen emotions flitted across her face before pleasure overtook them all. Building her up higher and watching this beautiful girl let herself experience what had been stolen from her.

  Lifting one of her hands, she slid her fingers around the back of my neck, gripping tight.

  “Pushing?”

  Her head moved in quick, faint shakes as she tilted it back and pulled me closer. Capturing my mouth in a fevered kiss when I eased my fingers inside her again.

  I stepped back until I was pressed to the wall, releasing her waist and grasping her chin to lift her head higher, deepening the kiss as she began trembling. Gripping my fingers tight as I brought her closer and closer until she was arched against me and my name was tumbling from her lips on a plea.

  I pressed my thumb to her clit, sending her spiraling. Shattering against me. Her lips
parting with a breath of a moan and her fingers digging into my neck, branding me as I worked her through her first orgasm and into a second.

  “Oh God,” she cried out as her body shook from the force of it. Her head fell back to my chest and her pleasure-filled gaze weakly found mine in the reflection as I slowly brought her down and removed my fingers.

  “Fucking beautiful.”

  The corners of her mouth lifted in an exhausted smile before falling. And then my groan was filling the room when she reached behind her, trailing her fingers over where my aching cock was pressed firmly against her ass.

  “Emma,” I said through clenched teeth, my eyelids shutting and my hands gripping her hips in warning when she reached the band of my boxer briefs. “Emma—fuck,” I ground out when she teased the head of my cock as she pushed the material down.

  Trailing my mouth up her neck, I forced my eyes open to watch her as I whispered in her ear, “You sure you want this?”

  “I trust you.”

  Releasing her hip, I brought my hand to her jaw and tilted her head back so I could search her eyes. “Do you want this?” I asked, the question coming out a harsh demand when her fingers wrapped around my length and stroked up.

  Her throat shifted beneath my hand with a forced swallow, but her voice and eyes were clear when she said, “I want you.”

  “Need you to tell me what you want before I take this somewhere you don’t want to go.”

  “Everything.” She leaned up to press a faint kiss to my lips. “I want everything with you.”

  I captured her mouth and turned her around, holding her close as I walked her out of the bathroom and into my room, never pausing until we were standing just beside the bed.

  “Push,” I reminded her as I lifted my shirt off her body and lowered her onto the bed. Maybe demanded because I was terrified of hurting her . . . of ruining this gift—this trust—she was handing me.

  “I know.” Her hazel eyes softened when I passed my mouth across her palm and placed it against my fiercely racing heart for a moment before pushing off the bed.

  My movements coming to a halt when I got my first full look at her.

  “Do you have any idea what you do to me, Emma Wade?” I asked, voice soft and rough with the emotion that washed over me just looking at her because I loved her in a way I’d never loved anyone.