Page 63 of Lying Is My Love Language

Hot.Hard.Punishment and confession rolled into one.

But then, just as suddenly, he pulls back.As if he too, is as stunned by his actions as I am.His eyes are wide, breath ragged.‘Shit,’ he mutters.‘I shouldn’t have—’

I don’t let him finish, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him back in, abandoning all rationality, crashing my mouth against his.

He freezes for a moment, body taut with indecision.Then all at once, he comes undone.

His hands are on me, bracing either side of my hips, pinning me back against the fridge like he doesn’t trust himself to let go once he starts.His mouth is on mine like he’s been starving.As if he’s angry about wanting it – about wanting me.

I moan against his lips, anchoring myself to him as he settles between my thighs.It’s not a kiss – it’s an argument.A reckoning.A ‘What the hell are we doing?’disguised as tongue and teeth and heat.

His hips press into mine, rolling against me in a slow, agonising grind that makes my whole body melt.Just a single, deliberate motion.He knows exactly what he’s doing.He wants me to feel every second of what we both pretend isn’t still between us.

A sound escapes me before I can catch it – an involuntary moan ripped from my throat and handed to him on a silver platter.

Luke exhales hard against my mouth, his hands tightening on my waist.

‘Stop lying to yourself,’ he says against my lips, voice ragged.

I don’t answer.I can’t.I want to kiss him harder.Deeper.I want to let go of everything – my lies, my rules, Dylan – and burn.

And then—

‘Jamie?’The voice is soft.Broken.Not Luke’s.

I freeze.

Luke goes still too, breath heavy against my cheek.We turn.And there, standing in the dim light of the kitchen, is Dylan.

The room tilts.My stomach turns.My heart forgets what rhythm is.Because this moment is the exact kind of thing I can’t lie my way through.

Dylan stares at us for a second longer, then he walks away, a plate of food in one hand.

‘Shit,’ I mutter, pushing Luke away.

He lets me go, face unreadable.I don’t look back.I bolt after Dylan, sandals slapping against stone as I catch up to him.

‘Dylan, wait.’

He doesn’t slow.Not even a little as he marches towards our cabin.

‘Dylan, please.Just wait.’

He stops, but only because I step in front of him.He blinks at me, disbelief etched into every line of his face.

‘It – it wasn’t what it looked like.’

He laughs.It’s bitter and bites hard.‘Jamie, come on.It’s exactly what it looked like.’

‘No.It wasn’t – it was nothing,’ I say, words tripping over each other.‘Luke means nothing.’

Over my shoulder, something shifts.Dylan’s eyes flick past me, and I know before I turn what I’ll see.Luke, shaking his head at my lies and walking away.

Again.

God, I hate myself.I truly hate myself.But at this point, lying is muscle memory.It’s hardwired in me, completely ingrained.It’s the autopilot setting I’ve been running on since as long as I can remember.

I follow Dylan into our cabin.He whirls around to face me the second the door clicks shut.‘Tell me the truth.’