Page 64 of When Lies Unfold

A touch of amusement graces his lips an instant before it disappears. His thumb and forefinger reach for my hoodie’s zipper, and my breath suspends in my lungs.

With his hand so close to my breasts, my nipples tighten. When my body begins arching into him, I lock my muscles in place to stop it.

Even in the dim surroundings, his eyes gleam with awareness of my reaction, but he thankfully doesn’t say a word.

“You goin’ straight to bed?”

Confusion at his question has me frowning, my response emerging slowly. “Yes.”

“Good.” His attention drops to where he still grips my zipper. Lips pressing thin, he slowly pulls the metal to the top. The slight graze of his knuckles along the inside of my breast has me mashing my lips together to stifle my gasp.

Releasing it, he abruptly steps back and clears his throat. His command is rough and no-nonsense. “Can’t have you walkin’ around temptin’ everybody.” Wordlessly, he surveys the area behind me before turning around and striding away.

A breeze sweeps by as if to punctuate his exit, tousling my hair while his words echo in my mind. If he thinks I’m tempting everybody, does that include him?

“Stop it,” I hiss under my breath. Exhaling a ragged breath, I shove my hands in my hoodie’s pockets and make my way back inside.

I shouldn’t care what he thinks of me. I shouldn’t react the way I do when he’s near me.

Knowing he may not be completely impervious to me either provides a fraction of solace. The wise thing to do is to use it to my advantage.

I simply need to ensure I don’t get swept up in my own ruse.

Sudden awareness of someone entering my room causes my eyes to snap open in the middle of the night. It takes a split second for me to realize there’s no threat.

This is confirmed a moment later when the person slides beneath the covers and curls up beside me.

Turmoil coils deep in my gut, a mix of affection and resignation, but a small smile plays at my lips all the same.

My voice is thick with sleep. “What’re you doing up this late?”

Alma’s voice is small and subdued. “I had a nightmare.”

When she snuggles closer, I shift to draw my arm around her. “I know all about nightmares.”

“You do?” she whispers.

Unfortunately. “Uh-huh.”

“What do you do when you get ’em?” She hugs me tighter. “’Cause my eyes don’t wanna go back to sleep after mine.”

“Sometimes, I remind myself that I’ve survived a ton of scary things. That I’m tough and nothing can hurt me anymore.”

That I refuse for anything to hurt me ever again.

Alma goes quiet for so long that I wonder if she’s somehow fallen asleep already until her dainty voice drifts to my ears. “Can I stay here with you?”

Oh, sweet girl. Your father’s going to hate me even more. But there’s no way I can turn her away. “Of course.” I hurriedly tack on, “But just for tonight.”

“’Kay.” Her voice has already taken on a languid quality as she snuggles even closer. “’Night, Lola.”

“Good night, Alma.”

A beat of silence lingers before she murmurs, “We’re gonna have a tea party tomorrow, okay?”

A thin veil of amusement flutters over me, because she’s so similar to her father. The only difference is she phrases demands like a question.

“Okay,” I answer softly.

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