Beneath These Lies (Page 59)

My neighbors were good friends of my parents and kept a fairly close eye on my house at my father’s request.

“I don’t care.” It was the closest I’d come to a declaration.

“You might.”

“I don’t.”

Rix had Johnny slow the car two blocks away from my house. “I think this will be more fun.” He pulled the door open and hopped out.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m gonna race you.”

“Race me?”

“Whoever makes it inside first calls the shots tonight.”

This got my attention. But there was no time to respond because Rix was already shutting the door.

I slapped the back of the empty passenger seat. “Hurry!”

Johnny chuckled, low and rusty, indicating that while he might not see anything Rix didn’t want him to see, he certainly heard plenty.

He turned a corner and slowed at the next stop sign, the car seeming to move at a snail’s pace. I stemmed the urge to smack the seat again. Barely. Instead, I scanned the yards of the neighbors’ houses, my mind filling in images of Rix scaling brick walls and hopping garden gates.

When Johnny pulled up at the stop sign at the corner of my street, I yanked open the door and jumped out.

“Wha—”

“Thanks for the ride!” I tossed over my shoulder as I shut the door and took off down the broken sidewalk on my heels. I made it through my gate and flipped open my clutch to find my key. Unlocking the portico, I hurried to the inside door and unlocked it. I waited for the beep of the alarm, but it was silent.

“No freaking way. He couldn’t have—”

“He couldn’t have what?” Rix said, leaning against the wall near my stairway.

“How did you?”

I studied him closer, looking for tears in his jacket or smudges on his crisp white shirt. The only stain I could see was a red lipstick smudge on his collar, peeking out from beneath his suit coat. Oops.

I crossed to him and reached for the button. Rix’s eyebrows rose, but he didn’t protest as I unbuttoned his suit coat and slid it off his shoulders.

When I’d used him for a sound-dampening device, I’d wrecked his shirt. But maybe if it didn’t set, the drycleaner could still get it out.

My hands went to the top button, and Rix’s fingers covered mine. “Whoa, duchess. According to the rules, I won, and I’m calling the shots.”

“Shhh. I’m trying to save your shirt.”

He looked down at the collar, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’m pretty sure I know where that came from.”

“Which means it’s my responsibility to make sure the stain doesn’t set.” I moved his fingers aside and unbuttoned the placket, then peeled the shirt off his arms.

Rix said nothing, but I could feel his eyes on me as I paused, remembering to unbutton the cuffs before I tugged the shirt free.

“I’ll just be a few minutes,” I said, turning in the direction of the laundry room and my utility sink.

Rix’s big hand closed around my arm before I could take a second step. “Wait.”

I glanced over my shoulder, and the expression on his face wasn’t what I was expecting to see. It was intense, but unreadable. It wasn’t heat so much as . . . I couldn’t place it. Rix plucked the shirt from my hand and tossed it on a stair.

“What are you—”

He pulled me close until our bodies touched.

“No one has taken care of me for longer than I can remember. No one has wanted to. Thought to. And you do it instinctively. My wound last night,” he gestured to the small bandage that still covered his side, “and now my shirt. That means something to me, and it tells me a lot about you. Makes me want things I shouldn’t let myself want. A future I can’t stop myself from picturing you in. I like when you throw attitude my way, when you’re being stubborn, how you feel when my cock is deep inside you, and there’s nothing I want more than to stare into your eyes and blow both our minds. I don’t know how this is gonna work, but it’s gonna work. I’m not settling for less. Not with you. For once in my life, I’m gonna have it all.”

Rix slid both hands under my ass and picked me up, much like he had in the storeroom, and carried me up the stairs. I’d forgotten all about his wound then, but now that he’d reminded me, I was worried he’d hurt himself carting me around.

“You got shot, so you shouldn’t be carrying me,” I protested. “You probably hurt yourself earlier. I was such an idiot. We should look at it.”

Rix smiled down at me but didn’t stop climbing the stairs. “I didn’t. But I’m glad you care.”

“But—”

“Your turn to hush now. The only words I want from you are more, and yes, and right there.”

I squeezed the back of his neck, where my hands held tight. “You’re such a man.”

Pushing his hips against me so I could feel the solid length of his erection behind the zipper of his suit pants, he smirked. “Damn right, I am. And you love it.”

And I did. Love him, that is. The words were in my throat, but I couldn’t form them into syllables and vocalize them. They twisted inside me, wanting to break free, but this wasn’t the moment.

I knew the adage that if you loved someone, you shouldn’t wait to tell them because you might not have another chance, but something was holding me back. Did he feel the same way about me? I shoved the words down, rocking against him as he reached the top of the stairs.