Page 30 of Pretty Lies & Ugly Truths

“Hey.” Maggie stands in the center of the living room, her soft creamy skin flushed with sweat and looking so goddamn sweet, it makes my guilt over what I just did increase tenfold.

She gives me that shy smile, looking up at me through her thick lashes, the rosy color staining her cheeks darkening, as if thinking about our encounter from last night.

Oh, I noticed the desire in her eyes, how needy she looked when I backed her against the wall, the way she trembled under my touch. It took every ounce of willpower I possessed to walk away and not take her right then and there, to not get lost in her tight heat and allow her to chase away the ghosts that haunt me—but that wouldn’t be fair to her.

I have nothing to offer beyond one night of pleasure and she is worth more than that.

Plus, something tells me one night with Maggie would never be enough.

“You’re leaving?” Her smile slips when she spies the keys in my hand, and something in my chest squeezes at the way her face falls when she realizes I’m going out.

“Yes. I do have to work at some point. Not all of us can just laze around all day.” My voice comes out much harsher than I mean for it to, the anger bleeding through.

A look of shock mixed with hurt flashes in those green eyes, making me feel like the bastard I am, but I don’t apologize, and I don’t take it back. It’s better this way. It’s better if she hates me.

I watch as that hurt slowly morphs into anger as she glares at me, her eyes turned into narrow slits.

“Right,” she says coolly. “Well then, can you check on my apartment while you’re out? That is—if you’re not too busyworking. As much as I enjoy this Dr. Jekyll, Mr Hyde routine you have going on, I would like to go home at some point.”

I fight back a smirk at her biting tone.That’s it, baby. Show me those thorns.

“Careful, Little Rose,” I say, pushing into her personal space, unable to help myself. The smell of her cherry almond shampoo, mixed with her sweat, and something that is all Maggie, doing dangerous things to my control.

I need to get out of here before I do something foolish. Hearing her talk of leaving makes me feel feral.

“You’ll leave when I say you can…andonlywhen I say you can.”

With that, I step back leaving her standing with her mouth gaping open before walking away.

I’m sittingin my office at Port, when Jayce barges in. He walks right in like he owns the fucking place—which I guess, technically, he does own half—before he plops down on the leather sofa opposite my desk.

“What the hell do you want?” I say, not even bothering to look up from my desk.

“So…” he drawls. “Given your bitchy attitude, I take it your date didn’t go well?”

“What are you going on about?” I ask, not in the mood to deal with his crap today.

He just gives me a shit eating grin.

“Oh, I think you know exactly what I’m talking about. The girl from last night. The one with those pouty pink lips.”

“Jayce…” I growl low under my breath, and the fucker just laughs, which only serves to irritate me further.

“What was her name again?” He taps his chin as if he’s thinking. “Oh right—Maggie. Smoking hot too. It’s too bad she obviously didn’t put out?—”

“Don’t you fucking dare talk about her like that,” I say, raising my voice, the rolling chair slamming against the wall as I stand abruptly.

My body is vibrating with the itch to smash something. I’ve been needing an outlet to work off my frustrations, and it seems my dumbass brother just provided me with the perfect opportunity.

“Dude, calm down. I was only messing with you. It was a joke,” he says holding his hands out in front of him, eyes wide with shock at my sudden outburst.

I exhale deeply before sagging back into my chair. He’s right; I do need to get a grip.

I’ve never been quick to anger, always managing to keep a tight leash on my emotions. When Jayce found me after Celia’s death, it was the only way I was able to keepgoing, to become numb to it all, never allowing myself to feel.

My heart became encased in ice so thick no one could penetrate—until her.

“Sorry,” I say, my hands running through my hair. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

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