Kiss Me with Lies (Twin Lies Duet Book 1)

by S. M. Soto

  His tongue trails down, and he leaves openmouthed kisses over my pubic bone that have me bucking off the bed. I trap my bottom lip between my teeth, trying to stifle my moans.

  “You’re … you’re awfully sure of y-yourself,” I pant.

  “You can stay here, and the staff will be at your beck and call. I’ll be away on business for a few days next week, but at least here, you have access to things other guests don’t.”

  When Baz pulls my underwear to the side, exposing my drenched center, my muscles contract, begging to feel his touch. He doesn’t disappoint. With a lazy, barely there stroke of his tongue, he licks up and down, swirling around my clit for good measure. An embarrassingly loud moan rips from my chest, and for a second, I forget the question he asked.

  “I d-don’t know … I don’t want to be a—” I gasp loudly when he dips his tongue inside me. His thumb rubs firm circles over my clit, and I can feel the stirrings in my belly. The heat is building, the tension tugging low. “A burden …” My voice trails off in a groan.

  Baz chuckles against my skin. “Just say yes, dirty girl. You know you want to.”

  I smile up at the ceiling. God, I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know what he’s doing to me. I can’t even get my brain to function well enough to weigh the pros and cons of this decision.

  When Baz sucks my clit into his mouth, slides two digits inside me, and slowly pumps them in and out, I find myself saying, “Yes. God, yes, Baz. I’ll stay.”

  As if the answer pleases him, he sucks harder, his fingers pumping faster as he crooks them. The pads rub against that spot inside me that quite literally takes my breath away. I slap my hands out at my sides, my fingers digging into the sheets.

  “You ready to share half this space with a woman?” I pant, my hips working in tandem with his fingers, trying to seek the perfect amount of friction.

  “I’ve done it plenty of times before.”

  As though being doused with cold water, the smile drops from my face, and I jerk up, away from his ministrations, to eye him through narrowed slits. I know he’s had women before me, but hearing about it doesn’t sit well with me. I can’t just be another woman to him. I don’t want to be just another woman to him. That would make me replaceable, just like everyone else he encounters.

  My expression makes Baz chuckle. He climbs back up my body, his fingers still crooked inside me, just not moving anymore. “I’m kidding, Mackenzie,” he says, growing serious as he takes in the expression on my face.

  The tightness in my chest slowly starts to ebb away, but it doesn’t leave completely. Because there’s still some truth to his words. The woman from earlier in the week, his assistant, had her own key. What’s going to happen with her? I refuse to be his plaything on the side. If this is going to work, it needs to be me, and me only. I know he said there was nothing going on there, but I need to hear him say it. I need his word before I agree to anything.

  “You are such a jerk.” I mock glare at him and nudge him on his shoulder. “I’ll do this, but I have some conditions.”

  His trademark smirk makes its appearance. Like gasoline on a fire, it slowly starts to spread across his face. “Conditions?”

  “If I do this. If we do this, you can’t sleep with anyone else. I don’t know about you, but contracting something—I’m not saying you have anything, and I’m not saying anything about the women you sleep with—isn’t an option. I refuse to share you while I’m here. So”—I pause, chewing on the inside of my cheek as I think of the best way to pose my next statement—“if there’s anyone with a key, who has access while I’m here, I want that to change.”

  Baz slowly cocks his head to the side. “Anything else?” He twitches his fingers inside me, and I buck, a surprised moan spilling from my lips.

  “Nope. I don’t think so,” I say breathily.

  “It’s a deal. Now spread ’em wider.”

  My own smirk steals across my face. “Why should I?”

  He starts pumping his fingers again and drops his head down near my ear, whispering, “Because I want you to come all over my tongue and my fingers, dirty girl. Everything you said was already a given. Consider it done.”

  My eyes slowly peel open, and when I look up at him, he’s smirking, knowing he’s won. Because he’s gotten me to admit that I don’t want to share, that a small part of me is jealous.

  “You’re a jerk,” I moan as his head bends, taking a nipple into his mouth, his fingers still pumping. He hovers on top of me, moving to take my mouth with his and make up for it in all the ways that count.

  The next morning, I wake to a simple note from Baz, the letters scrawled in black ink in a masculine script. He had some work-related stuff to handle this morning, so he had Dan, his trusty employee, bodyguard, whatever he is, bring in a full spread of breakfast for me. The best part? Everything was on warmers.

  Fucking divine.

  With a full belly, I use this time alone in his space to snoop. I’m heavily cautious before I start roaming around. He could have cameras in here. And if he does, he’s likely watching my every move to see what I’m doing. I’m not naïve enough to think he trusts me fully yet.

  I’m not sure how long he’ll be gone, but if I can just find something, anything here that can lead me in the right direction, I’ll know I’m doing the right thing. It’ll be the recognition I need. Because right now? I’m second-guessing myself a hell of a lot more than I should, and it’s his fault.

  Baz’s penthouse is much bigger than I originally expected and, if possible, much nicer than mine. I’d imagine it’s because we’re on the penthouse level, and he practically lives here day in and day out. Unlike my suite, there are personal touches here; though, this resort has nothing on his home. I swear, that mansion in the hills is something dreams are made of. It’s something you’d see in Architectural Digest or something.

  Despite that, the penthouse is still beautiful. Both living spaces are a lot better than the cheap two-hundred-square-foot studio in New York I’m coming from. The bathrooms here are literally the size of my entire studio back home.

  On my quest for information, I start in the sitting room where the TV and coffee table are. The place is clean by the best standards. No papers lying around, not even a speck of freaking dust.

  The color scheme matches my suite with only a few changes here and there.

  I ditch the kitchen and sitting areas and move on to the back of the penthouse toward the bedroom. I dig through my discarded clothes from the night before and find what I’m looking for. I’ve held onto the card the employee, Brian, “lent” me, in case I ever needed to use it again. When I head back into the bedroom, I grab the new fob card that Baz left for me this morning.I swallow thickly, suddenly feeling nervous, and check the time. This might be my only chance.

  I dress quickly, slipping both cards in my pocket,and hurry out into the hall, stopping just in front of his office door. First, I try the fob Brian gave me and the door beeps red. No entrance. Pocketing that one, I use the one Baz gave me instead, surprised that I’m able to bypass the door with that card. I warily slip in with a single glance over my shoulder, making sure I’m not being followed. With my heart pounding and my chest heaving, fear and adrenaline course through my veins as I stand just over the threshold.

  Inside, just like last time, is the long, formidable mahogany desk, a laptop, two iPads, and a stray pen that probably cost more than the clothes on my back. No paperwork. No nothing. I try the drawers in his desk and find all but one of them locked. Pulling open the one that isn’t locked, I shuffle through the contents. My hand freezes over a photograph.

  Fire burns a trail down the center of my chest. My nostrils flare as I pick up the picture tucked below the stray documents. My chest is heaving, my vision is blurring, and I can’t see straight.

  Why the hell would he stuff this picture in a drawer for no one else to see?

  I examine the photograph from top to bottom. I don’t need to flip t
he back over to read a date or try to guess because I know exactly when this picture was taken. It was 2010. The same night Madison was murdered. I know this because I have Trent’s outfit memorized. Why wouldn’t I? He was my first kiss and my first heartbreak. I remember every detail. Even the ones I wish I could forget.

  Through the trees, I strain to listen to the conversation, but their voices are fading. The guys were yelling at each other. They’re probably scared. Maybe they didn’t mean to kill her. It might’ve been an accident, but that still doesn’t give them the right to walk away from this with squeaky-clean reputations.

  I followed the guys out here. Outside of the guest window at my grandparents’ house, I had been staring up at the sky, thinking of Madison, when bright lights illuminated the street. I watched the Jeep roll to a stop in front of Marcus’ house. In slow motion, I watched the doors open and all the guys hop out. As if on cue, Marcus appeared from the shadows at the side of his house, and there they stood, huddled together.

  With frantic movements, I pried the window open in an effort to hear them, but their voices were merely a whispered echo. It was stupid and risky, I knew that, but that didn’t stop me. Grabbing the sweatshirt hanging off the side of the bed, I threw it on and climbed out the window.

  Grandma and Grandpa had gone to sleep hours earlier, whereas I hadn’t been able to sleep at all. My brain had been whirring, working nonstop with theories. Sleep was the last thing on my mind. I needed to keep a close eye on them, especially Marcus since he was the closest suspect I had access to.

  As a matter of fact, ever since the sheriff made it clear the station had no case against any of the boys, I’ve been following them. Keeping them within my sights at all times—sometimes when they’re all together, and other times, when they’re on their own—in case any of them slip up. And today, I’ve finally gotten something. It’s not much, but it’s enough to raise questions for Sheriff Keller.

  I keep low, trying to stay hidden by the fence as I creep closer. With deft, silent movements, I unlock the backyard gate and leave it open, so I have a way to get back in. Crouching low, I keep my gaze trained on the guys, straining to listen to what they’re saying. They’re arguing. I can hear their heated voices rising higher and higher. They’re not so much yelling, as they are fighting, trying to stay silent, so they won’t draw attention from anyone else in the neighborhood. I can’t make out who does it, but someone gets shoved, his back slamming against the side of the Jeep. The other person grips him by his shirt, getting into his face.

  When I move into the neighbor’s lawn, sticking to the shadows, I have a better view of who it is. Trent’s holding Zach by the collar of his shirt, pinning him to the Jeep. My brows pull in, and a frown settles across my face. Trent rashly pushes away from Zach and takes off down the street. One by one, the rest of the guys follow, leaving the Jeep behind.

  I stay crouched in front of my neighbor’s house, debating on whether I should follow. It’s dangerous. They’re all dangerous, but whatever it is they’re going to do, in the middle of the night, without their car, it’s something big. And I need to see what it is.

  Even though my brain screams for me to turn around and go back inside, I follow them. I stay crouched low, sticking far enough behind that they won’t see or hear me.

  They turn down the street onto the backroads of Ferndale. The only place left to go when using this back alley is the woods. A heaviness settles over my chest when we pass the cemetery. Tears spring to my eyes, threatening to trail down my cheeks. In just a few days, I’ll have to stand right there and watch my sister’s casket being lowered into the cold ground. It’s part of the reason I haven’t been able to sleep. I don’t think I’m ready to say goodbye to her yet. I don’t have the answers I need for her.

  Grandpa told me that Mom and Dad decided on a closed casket for the “viewing.” He didn’t say why, but I could guess. Whatever happened to her in those woods made her face unfixable. My determination returns full force as the guys cross through the backroads, through Russ Park, looking shady as fuck.

  Where’s law enforcement at times like this? When you actually need them?

  Probably at home sleeping while the guys who murdered my sister sneak off into the night and leave this town for college, scot-free.

  If no one else is going to take this seriously and solve the case, I will.

  Part of me feels like I owe it to Madison to learn the truth. It was supposed to be me in that casket. It feels like it’s the least I can do. The other part, that part feels like I owe it to myself to get some answers.

  Why was I even on their radar to begin with?

  I sneak through the trees after them, trying to steer clear of anything that may draw their attention to me. I follow the sound of their voices until they stop moving. I’m breathless, my side stitching with pain from the long walk. The night air is brisk, leaving a constant chill down my spine. It makes my nose runny, and every time I take a breath, I can see the plume of air hovering before me. My face feels frozen and wind chapped.

  I remain a few yards away from where the guys have stopped, not wanting to risk getting any closer. I pause,trying to listen to the tail end of their conversation, while peeking around from one of the thick redwoods.

  “Just calm the fuck down, Trent!”

  “No! Goddammit, Vincent, I fucking told you this would happen. We’re going to—”

  “Shut the fuck up!” Zach yells, startling me. The guys go silent. He starts pacing, raking his hands through his hair. “We didn’t do anything wrong, right? We have nothing to fucking worry about, understand me? We leave for college in less than two fucking weeks. The least you can all do is hold it the fuck together until then.”

  “She knows—”

  “She doesn’t know anything. Now shut your fucking mouth. Stick to the fucking script, Marcus.”

  My eyes are wide as I try to spot them through the trees and stray brush. My heart is pounding. It’s so loud, I’m afraid it’ll give away my hiding spot, and they’ll find me. Their voices start to trail off again as if they’re moving, and I move, trying to keep up with them. I follow after them as best as I can, but I can’t hear them anymore. I can’t hear anything, but the blood roaring in my veins and the sound of my heavy breathing.

  My pulse thuds erratically; the beat is frantic and filled with adrenaline. Blood rushes in my ears as I internally try to process that conversation. I don’t have much time to give Sheriff Keller a reason to charge one of them. All I need is one. And who could they have been talking about? Was it me? It had to be me, right?

  As far as my knowledge goes, I was the only one following their every move. There’s no other explanation. I’m the only person in this town causing them any trouble. I’ve been trying to find any dirt on them, and now they must kno—

  I’m harshly yanked to the side and slammed up against a redwood.

  “Ah!” I cry out, pain ripping through the back of my skull.

  A hand slaps over my mouth, keeping me from screaming. My chest heaves, and when the figure steps in front of me, pinning me against the tree, all the color drains from my face.

  “Following us now, are you, Mackenzie?” Zach taunts, glaring daggers at me. His palm is still over my mouth, effectively silencing me. I wiggle against the tree, trying to buck his weight off me, but he only presses into me further. His body cages me against the bark, and bile rises up my throat.

  “You really are a dumb little bitch, aren’t you? I thought we told you to stay away,” Marcus barks from somewhere over Zach’s shoulder. I glance around frantically, my vision blurring as tears spring to my eyes.

  Zach removes his hand from my mouth, and I consider screaming, but I know the chances of anyone hearing me are slim to none. And I know if I do scream, it’ll be the last thing I ever do.

  “I wasn’t—”

  Zach smacks his hand against the bark, just inches away from my head. I whimper in fear, cowering away from him. “Don’t fucking
lie to me,” he seethes, dipping his head down to get in my face. His eyes are murderous, practically blazing the skin off my face. “Leave us the fuck alone, Mackenzie. You won’t like what happens if we have to tell you again.”

  His spittle lands on my face, and the way he just expects me to do as he says has my anger boiling. My hands curl into fists, and I grit my teeth together as frustration courses through my body.

  “Fuck you!” I growl, throwing him a venomous glare.

  He chuckles, his eyes still dark pools of evil, and he steps into me, rubbing his groin into my body. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, fucking whore? Is that all you want? A go with all of us? I can get the train started right fucking now, Mackenzie. What do you say, want to have some fun?”

  He trails one hand between my legs, and I try to buck him off, but with his free hand, he, squeezes my neck, cutting off my air supply. When his fingers push against the seam of my pants, tears spring to my eyes.

  “Who do you want to fuck you first, Mackenzie?” he taunts, choking me even harder. “It’s Trent, isn’t it?” He chuckles. “Yeah, I know it is. Maybe I’ll let him pop that cherry, and I’ll fuck you right here. What do you say, sweet little Mackenzie?” His hand trails from the front of my seam to the crack of my ass, and my eyes widen with fear. Tears fall helplessly from my eyes as I try to push him off me.

  “I could fuck you right now, leave you here, used and abused, and no one would ever know a thing.”

  I hear laughter. The rest of the guys are laughing at me. He’s degrading me in front of everyone, making me the laughingstock, just as I was that night at the bonfire.

  A choked sob flies past my lips. “P-please.”

  Zach laughs as though my begging delights him. “You should really be more careful. I heard your sister was murdered not far from here,” he whispers, bringing his face right next to mine. He lets go of my neck, and I sputter, sliding down the length of the tree. My chest wracks with broken, silent sobs, and my feet dig into the dirt. I open my mouth, sucking in air, trying to catch my breath. When I do, I process his words, and my chest tightens.