Page 89 of Loving the Liar

“Goodnight,” she says knowingly.

I hit my head against the pillow and bite my lower lip.

“This behavior will only make your punishment worse.”

She sucks in a breath but doesn’t say anything. I don’t think she realizes how much I’m looking forward to it.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Ella

Diet Mountain Dew - Lana Del Rey

My eyes snap open, anxiety already running thickly through my veins. I feel weird, hungover, and I know I did something wrong. I’m just not sure what yet.

“Pretty girl is awake.”

The voice tears a surprised gasp out of me as I turn to my left. Chris stands by the side of my bed with a towel around his waist and uses another to dry his dripping hair.

Fucking…fuck, God help me. This man is a work of art. His abs are prominent, even more distinct by the slight tan of his skin. He doesn’t need to flex his defined arms to make them bulge, the muscles hard from his strict exercising routine.

He takes care of himself, of his body, of everything. He’s harsh on himself, harsher than he is with everyone else, and that results in a flawless physique. The only thing that sticks out like a sore thumb is the wonky tattoo of a Jack Daniels bottle on his forearm. It’s tiny, thick, so ugly. A drunken mistake on a night in, drinking with his best friends at his house. I was there, taking care of the four of them while they were getting blackout drunk. Chris, Luke, Jake, and Rose. Rose tattooed that bottle on the four of them.

He fucked me that night when they all went to bed. He snuck into the guest room I was sleeping in, and I had to put my own hand on my mouth while he thrusted into me. His inhibitions were gone. He barely cared if anyone heard us. I should have let someone catch us that night. Maybe we would still be together.

Shit. No. I can’t go down this road again. I can’t break my own heart by thinking of how things could have happened.

I tear myself out of my own head and look up at him.

“Tell me we didn’t…”

“Again, you mean?”

“Yes. Again,” I huff.

The corner of his mouth tips up. “Not yet, Sweets. Get on your front.”

My heart drops to my stomach, a zap of electricity flickering down my spine and ordering me to give in.

Absolutely. Not.

Thank God for the voice of reason.

“Are you insane? Get out of my room. What are you even doing here? What time is it?”

“It’s 6 a.m., and I brought you back after you drank too much.”

I rack my brain, desperate for memories to hold on to. I remember him showing up in the game room. I remember shouting that the real daddy was here, and I cringe. How much more stupid can I get?

I look around the room, down at the robe that’s barely clinging to my body. Tightening it around me, another memory flashes of Chris feeding me while I was sitting on the side of the bed. My hair is damp. I must have showered too. Unless…

“Did you…” I swallow thickly. “Did you shower me?”

My eyes flick down to his Adonis belt leading to the obvious hard-on under the towel. I try to look away, but somehow my eyes keep going back to it, and it liquifies my insides.

“Only until you tried to get me to fuck you. I had to step away so you wouldn’t assault me.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

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