Page 101 of The Lair

“I… may or may not have a tiny crush on him.”

“Atinycrush?”

“All right, maybe a medium-sized one.”

“A medium-sized…” He shakes his head. “You know what? As long as he doesn’t have a medium-sized di?—”

“Charlie.”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with medium-sized dicks, but looking at how big he is, I would assume?—”

“I’m done with this conversation,” I blurt out, hoping my cheeks don’t look as flustered as I feel. Yet heat swirls in my lower area all the same, recalling the feeling of Travis’s strong body against me last night. Of the definitely not tiny or medium-sized bulge pressing against my stomach.

A piercing stab goes through my chest only a moment later. It’s not difficult to sober up again when I remember Travis has been ignoring me for the past twelve hours.

I try not to take it personally. He told me about his past and how difficult it is for him to open up, so I get it. Really. The blame for this radio silence isn’t entirely on him—I could’ve always brought up our kiss last night or this morning, but I didn’t. Because if intimacy is tough for him, being brave is also hard for me.

Shaking my head to clear it of all sorts of distracting thoughts until I’m done with my shift, I turn away from Charlie.

And come face-to-face with a wall.

No, not a wall—a chest. A chest so hard, it can only belong to one man.

“Allie. Can we talk?”

Despite the confusion and nerves that have barely let me function throughout the day, I follow him to his small office at the back. I haven’t spent much time here in the past few months. He doesn’t either. There’s not much in his office but a desk, a single chair, and tall bookshelves where he stores his accounting books. I don’t close the door behind me, and he doesn’t ask me to.

“What do you need?”

“You, Allie.”

Our eyes lock.

I don’t move an inch. I don’t give him a reaction because I don’t even know what to say.

This isn’t how I expected this conversation to go, considering we didn’t speak last night when he came home. And when I woke up this morning, his truck was already gone.

“Last night, I…” He runs a hand through his short hair, a telltale sign that he’s overwhelmed. “I’ve never done this before, and I’m a fucking mess. Give me a second.”

Panic grips at my chest, and I hate myself for it. Because if Travis is about to say what I think he’s about to say, I don’t deserve to hear it.

I don’t deserve his love, not when I’ve been feeding him lies since the day we met.

“All right,” he starts again, the intensity of his gaze almost unbearable. “What I meant to say is that you are my?—”

“Travis,” I interrupt him gently.

My heart is beating too fast, my head is screaming too loudly, and I’ve had enough.

Enough with the lies.

Enough with hiding a past I can’t fix no matter how much I’m ashamed of it.

Enough with hiding my authentic self from the one man I want everything with.

I take a deep breath and hope my voice doesn’t shake as I say, “Before you say anything, I need to tell you something important.”

His expression remains open despite his slight frown. “Okay.”

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