Page 4 of Loaded Laces

Crap.

That seals it.

“I wanted to push your buttons, knew I had the ammunition to do it.” I shrug, know it’s sure to piss him off, to distract him from all the things I don’t want him to see. “I was hoping for my viral moment. Gotta get those sponsors, you know.”

Something slithers through his gray eyes.

But it’s something I don’t recognize, and not because it’s here and gone in an instant.

Mostly it’s because suddenly he’s encroaching on my space, his big frame bending, his face in mine, a thunderstorm in his eyes.

“Liar,” he whispers.

Right.

I already knew this was dumb.

Now I know I need to end this.

“Since I didn’t get that viral moment,” I say, lifting my chin and deliberately taking a step back, breaking his hold on me, “I’ll go.”

Silence, charged and hot and taut, fills the room.

“You’ll go.” Quiet words.

“Yes.”

“You’llgo.”

Quiet words that are laced with such rage that I take another step back.

“Oh, no,” he mutters, reaching out and snagging my wrist. “You’re not justgoing.”

I open my mouth, jerk at his grip, but it’s useless.

A moment later, he’s spinning us and all the air whooshes out of my lungs as I find myself pressed to the closed door, his body flush against mine. “You don’t get to do this, to show up out of the fucking blue, asking that shit, and then waltzing right the fuck back out again.”

What’s wrong with me that his furious words slide like velvet over my skin?

That I wonder how else he might have changed, might havegrown?

If his hold shifted, if his hands skated down my body, slid into my clothes, and he fucked me right against this door, I know I wouldn’t protest.

I know I would enjoy it.

Crave it.

Loveit.

That was the problem before.

“Now, you’ve always been a shit liar, Belle?—”

My eyes close, both at the knowledge that hasn’t always been true and because the nickname…

God, I’ve missed it.

He’s the only person to ever call me that—the only person I allowed to have that.

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