Page 82 of The Obedient Lie
She sat, that satin clinging to her, made my mouth dry.
My bloodthrum.
I moved behind her and placed both hands on her shoulders—thumbs digging in gently, easing the tension I knew she carried like armor. The reason she had an addiction to yoga, as if that could save her.
She kept talking.
But her replies were shorter now.
Less energy.
Less laughter.
More breath.
Just the way I liked her.
As I brushed her hair to one side—exposing her neck—I felt the shift. Her spine straightening. Her breath slowing. Her body giving in without even knowing it was happening.
My fingers worked into the muscles at the top of her back, and my other hand drifted lower—brushing along the side of her waist, tracing the silk of her dress.
Satin.
Fuck.
The way it slid beneath my fingers.
The way it clung to her shape.
My hand flattened slightly, pressing into her ribs—not quite possessive.
Not yet.
But mine all the same.
She still hadn’t told us how she felt about what happened the other night. Now I had my answer.
I could feel it in the way she leaned back into me now.
I could feel it in the way her wordsfalteredwhen my thumb found the base of her neck.
I held the knot there, thumb pressing gently into the tension.
“Breathe,” I whispered, close enough that my lips brushed her ear.
She did.
Slow and soft.
Like her body already knew who it belonged to.
That’s when I heard it.
A voice on the other end of the line—male, laughing, easy. He said something, but I didn’t catch it all.
Didn’t matter.
It was a man.
