Page 120 of Cruel Lies

Before I can protest that I have no bones left, he wraps an arm around my waist and rolls us both onto our sides, keeping himself buried in me the whole way, so we end up face-to-face on the pillow like two people who fell asleep mid-conversation and forgot to stop touching.

It's different, this angle. There's nowhere to hide and nothing to prove. My leg is hitched over his hip, and his hand cradles the back of my thigh, holding me open just enough for him to move in these small, deep rolls that don't chase anything at all.

As we fuck, he kisses me. It's as soft as his stroking. Teasing, tender lips. His hips work against mine in that unhurried, grinding tide, and I match the energy without thinking, the two of us breathing into each other's open mouths.

The heat builds and builds, the grinding deepens, and then he's there, too. He shoves his face into my chest and groans, that iron control finally cracking clean down the middle. I hold him through it, my fingers in his hair, his breath ragged and warm against my collarbone, and it's the most powerful I have ever felt—not the taking, but thebeing trustedwith this, with the exact second a dangerous man lowers his guard.

For a long moment, neither of us moves. His heart is going like mine. His arm is a band across my back, unwilling to let even an inch of air in.

"You okay?" he mumbles up from where his face is still pressed into my chest.

I laugh deliriously. "Not even a little bit. But I'm the good kind of not-okay."

He raises his head and looks at me, grinning. "You'll stay," he says.

I nod sheepishly. "I'm not going anywhere."

I tip my head back to look at him. His hair's a mess. His eyes are soft in a way I've never seen. He looks, for once, like a man who feels safe enough to let go in the dark.

"Ronan," I say a moment later. "That country house. The lake."

"What about it?"

"I really want to go."

His arm tightens around me. "Then we'll go. Next weekend. I'll clear my schedule."

"Just like that?" I tease. "Aren't you, like, a big shot with lots of important meetings to attend."

"As a matter of fact, I am," he jokes back. "But compared to you, none of it matters."

I don't know what to do with a sentence like that. It's too much, especially since I know he absolutely means it. So I put my head back down on his chest, right over the scars, and I listen to his heart.

31

RONAN

I wake before Cali, which isn't hard, because I never really slept. I laid there with her head pillowed on my chest most of the night, listening to her breathe, and I thought about all the things I still haven't told her.

She's asleep when the light starts to come through the windows. I watch her for a while. Her hair is a mess on the pillow. One hand is curled up near her mouth. She looks younger like this. Softer. Like nothing in the world has ever gone wrong for her.

I know better than to believe that.

After all, I helped some of it go wrong.

I slip out from beneath her and make coffee while she sleeps. When she wakes up, she pads out into the kitchen in one of my shirts. I hand her a cup, and she smiles at me, and that alone is almost enough to bring me to my knees.

"I have to get the kids," she says, halfway through the coffee.

"I know. Paolo's downstairs."

She looks at me over the rim of the cup. "You already called the car?"

"I called it when I woke up."

"You never sleep, do you?"

"Not much."