Page 63 of Lethal Attraction

Oh, that’s perfect.

Reed squeezes me tighter, his embrace warm and gentle as his lips graze my ear. “Maybe now we can discuss what happened?”

I emit a wheezing sound. “What? Nothing happened—”

“Thalia,” he says patiently.

I close my eyes, my face screwing up as if the mere thought of shattering our reality could drive him away. I don’t want that. I want this.

The Reed who thinks I’m an amateur criminal with a small record but a heart of gold. Not a lethal assassin who’s preyed on and killed more people than can be kept in a single log in Rowan’s office.

How would he look at me if he knew the truth?

Would he be disgusted?

Angry that I’ve lied to him for so long?

Would he even want to see me again?

“I can’t,” I whisper with fear and doubt circling my stomach so heavily it makes me nauseous to think of him pulling away.

“And why not?” He says softly as he brushes my hair behind my ear. Always so thoughtful and kind. He’s delicate with me in a way no one has ever dared to be.

Because he doesn’t know you’re a monster, that little voice reminds me.

I swallow past the emotions clogging my throat. “Because then it would become too real.”

His fingers slide along my jaw before he turns my head to look over my shoulder at him. He isn’t offended by my words. If anything, it’s like he’s trying to understand what I’m meaning—trying to see past my words into something much deeper he can’t quite reach. He stares at me with steady interest, a slight furrow between his brow, and a tilt to his head.

“What would become too real?” He asks quietly.

I’m stuck.

He’s rendered me completely helpless in this situation. I can’t destroy him. I have to give him some kind of an out…

I lift my hand to his face, cupping his cheek as the bridge of my nose begins to sting with unshed tears. I don’t know why I want to cry, but Reed brings out something so profound in me that it’s frightening.

“What if I told you that I’m not who I say I am?” I ask, the words settling heavy and dense between us.

His mouth twitches. “You’re not my girl?”

My pulse slams as I press my fingertips to his lips. “I want to be…”

“Then be,” he murmurs before kissing my skin.

“No, Reed,” I take a deep breath, mentally commanding my voice to be still, “I’m not a personal assistant.”

His brows rise. “I figured as much.”

Of course. He’s too smart to believe my pitiful lies.

He’s still trailing kisses over my knuckles as he takes my wrist in his hand and peppers his lips further down my arm. It’s so achingly sweet and makes the war inside my own head violent.

Give him an out. He deserves to live a normal life.

Lock him in my basement and don’t give him a chance to escape.

What would Rowan do?