Page 74 of Sweet Nothings

If I did, it would make me a hypocrite when I’d gotten angry with Fred for doing the very same.

“I would.” My lie stings on the tip of my tongue. I want to spit it out, the bitter after taste only adding to my nausea. I’ve allowed Lennon into my life and into my heart so easily these past few weeks, I feel like I’ve been cut open and studied. My mind flickers with the thought that our contractual marriage was easier before we blurred the lines.

I immediately regret the thought when Lennon places his thumb against my bottom lip.

“Are you sure?” he whispers, a deepness woven into it.

His question is a jolt of electricity straight to my heart. He’s doing it again. The underlying tone of his question insinuates him wanting answers. Answers I can’t give him. I inhale a shaky breath and close my eyes, giving him a resolving nod.

“Yeah,” I reassure him, waving him off again. “Frederick just brought up my brother, and I hate talking about him.”

I’m not completely lying.

“Oh, what did he say?” Lennon asks, raising his eyebrows. “He’s still in prison, right?”

“He is.” I sigh, the anger from my conversation with Fred still simmering under my red-hot skin.

Lennon slowly closes the gap between us. “Your uncle may have left your office, Laurel, but the conversation hasn’t. Your gorgeous face betrays you.”

Despite all the frustration and secrets knotted around my heart like barbed wire, I melt with Lennon’s words.

“I told you before, I haven’t spoken to my brother since his sentencing.” My husband nods, patiently listening. I quickly trace my tongue across my lips, twisting my fingers. “Well, Fred still talks to him.Apparently.And he told Kellan about us getting married.”

“I’m sorry.” He places his hand on my arm and pulls me forward as my bare feet stumble across the floor to keep me from falling off balance.

“I can’t be too angry with him,” I whisper, my eyes falling to his mouth. “News of our wedding was plastered on every magazine and newspaper. I guess he was bound to find out one way or another.”

“Your brother can be angry, but there isn’t much he can do from prison, right?”

“You’re right.” I nod in agreement. “I just don’t want my brother to know anything about my life. He lost the right when he stole everything from me and my family.”

“He did,” Lennon agrees, tugging on me again. His hand wraps around the back of my neck, pulling me to him. He kisses me. His mouth is warm, and his lips taste like his peppermint toothpaste.

I pull away from him when my heart feels like it’s going to jump out of my chest. I seriously want to drop the conversation of my brother. I back away from Lennon and turn to walk around my desk.

My eyes dart to my phone, my worry for Roe replacing the anger with Kellan. What a dramatic swing of emotions I’m going through today.

“I’m sorry I didn’t go up to your office when I was supposed to,” I quickly mutter over my shoulder, changing the subject and leaving him where he’s standing. “I got hung up on a call with a client.” It isn’t a total lie. I honestly lost track of time, my concern for Roe distracting me. I move back around my desk and quickly press the button on the side of my phone. The white bar displaying Roe’s name and her tiny message of:Slept late. Just woke up,sits in the middle of my screen. My shoulders visibly relax with a sigh, and I drop my phone back on my desk. I fish my stilettos out from under my desk with my bare toes and sit in my chair. I bend down, sliding the first foot in.

“What are you doing?” Lennon’s deep voice booms beside me.

I look up. My face is in line with the zipper of his black slacks. I swallow, my mind immediately going to what’s hidden underneath and how good it feels to have it driven into me. He’s standing directly beside me with his hands inside said slacks. His blue eyes are piercing as they stare down at me.

“I’m putting on my shoes so we can go to lunch,” I explain, reaching for the other one.

His eyes darken as he lifts his leg and taps the shoe out of my hand with the tip of his foot. It falls to the floor with a clunk.

“It’s ten in the morning, Mrs. Harding.”

“It is?” I ask, clicking the button on the side of my phone again, lighting it up. He’s right. It is only ten o’ clock. I didn’t bother looking at the time, only at the message from Roe.

I look back up at Lennon. “But you told Trey I missed meeting you in your office for lunch.”

“I might have lied a little.” He scrunches his perfect nose.

“Don’t you think Trey might find a ten-a.m. lunch suspicious?” I ask, giggling. “He knows I usually don’t eat until after noon.”

“Huh,” he says, twisting his tongue in his mouth. “Do you always eat after noon or are you open to an early lunch?”

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