Page 24 of The Obedient Lie
She nodded, tight and flustered. “Okay.”
But I didn’t move.
And neither did she.
I turned toward the ensuite, jaw tight, pulse louder than it should’ve been.
Because shesmelledgood.
Because shelookedgood.
Because I noticed the way her shirt clung to her curves.
Because Ihatedthat I was the one who caught her mid-stretch and still wanted tolook again.
And worst of all?
Shesmiledat me when she left.
That soft, sweet smile.
Like I hadn’t just undressed her with my eyes for a split second.
I stepped into the shower and turned the watertoo cold.
The room was quiet.
The fire burned low, casting long shadows across the floor.
I was lying back in bed, one arm behind my head, a book open on my chest.
I hadn’t turned a page in twenty minutes.
Bastion was scrolling his phone, but not really.
His gaze flicked toward the bathroom door every other minute.
We didn’t speak.
We didn’thave to.
It had become a pattern. A quiet, unspoken ritual.
Every night, she disappeared into the ensuite.
And every night, wewaited.
Not on purpose.
Not officially.
But something about it —her— had rewired the air in this room.
The first night, she worechampagne satin.
Thin straps. Lace trim. A ribbon tied beneath her chest like a bow asking to be undone.
Bastion had dropped his water bottle when he saw her.
