Page 30 of His Secret Betrayal
He would hate me if he knew how I’ve betrayed him by keeping this secret. And I wouldn’t blame him.
I’m a shitty brother, a worthless son, a crappy friend, and, if my last relationship is anything to go by, a lousy boyfriend.
During the final rocky, tumultuous days of my last relationship, I had confided my worries to Evelyn. As the last threads holding Maddison and me together slipped through my fingers, I had convinced myself Evelyn would be warm and receptive to my woes. That she would know what I should do. Instead, I let her convince me that if my own girlfriend of four years didn’t want me, I must be a worthless partner. Then my drunk ass had convinced myself that kissing another woman was a good idea—because then, at least I would know someone wanted me.
I had seen the anger and dismay on Jax’s face when he found out. It had made my stomach constrict, like a wave of acid sloshing around my insides. And yet, his disapproval could never come close to the utter disappointment I felt in myself. The dirt on the bottom of my shoe had been more worthy of Maddison than I was.
Alek’s face flashes through my mind, and I laugh humorlessly again.
I’m a mess.
If he’s a smart man, he’ll see I’m too much trouble and stay far away from me.
My own mother hasn’t wanted me around for the majority of my life, and even now, she barely tolerates my presence. Why should Alek be any different?
Alek
“Alek, please.”
It’s Monday morning, and still the encounter between Luke and me plays on a continuous loop in my mind. Even as I arrive to work a full half-hour early, setting a steaming cup of coffee onto my desk, there’s a lightness in my chest. Lowering myself into my chair, I spin toward the window and lean back. The sky is still dark, the gray shadows of mountaintops looming in the distance.
I hadn’tknown dancing with Luke would be my kind of foreplay. The way his body had moved against mine had felt nothing short of sinfully delicious. My cock drooled precum the entire time I grinded up against his pert ass.
I tried to resist him for his own good—a half-assed attempt, but still. Of course, he knew exactly how to snap that tenuous thread of self-restraint, and he did so with expert precision.
I had been pleasantly surprised—thrilled, actually—to witness his normal sass transform into pure submissiveness when I touched him. He had followed my directions without hesitation, eagerly even. I had almost panicked when he put his hands on my shoulders, some part of me afraid he would feel the jagged edges of my scars and it would be all over. Thankfully, he was already too lost to the pleasure to question why I made him put his hands on the wall.
God, he had been so needy when he was on the verge of coming. Something about his insatiable curiosity, the demanding thrust of his hips, and those desperate little whines did it for me. I had never called another mangood boya day in my life, had never even considered it. But with my hand working Luke’s weeping cock, drinking in his beautiful responses and the way he gave himself over to the pleasure, the phrase popped into my head and refused to leave. On a whim, I decided to take the chance, despite not knowing how he would respond to such a phrase. A dreamy expression crossed his face as he practically melted into my touch, and I nearly came on the spot.
How much groveling would I have to do with Caleb if I fucked his best friend?
Luke made it pretty clear he was interested in a repeat performance, so what if I asked him out? We could get to know each other and see if there’s anything here. Maybe I could help him explore his sexuality and… And then I remember the ugly web of scars along my back. The control issues that have driven a wedge into my past relationships. The inevitable disappointment.
My smile begins to slip.
The office door clicks open and interrupts my thoughts, making my pulse kick up. I haven’t spoken to Luke since Friday, and the idea of seeing him now sends a thrill through me even as my stomach rolls with nerves. Will I get flirty, sassy Luke today, or does he regret what we did?
When I spin around in my chair, all traces of a smile vanish from my face when I spot the deep-purple bruise on his cheekbone. There are dark circles under his eyes, his shoulders are slumped, and his gaze refuses to meet mine. This is a version of Luke I haven’t seen before, this general air of…dejectedness.
“Who did that to you?” The words are out of my mouth before I have the chance to think them over. If it weren’t for the bruise blooming across his cheek, I probably would have jumped to the conclusion that I did this. But this isn’t a walk of shame; it’s clearly something else. When Luke’s weary eyes blink at me, my chest tightens.
He looks utterly exhausted.
What can I do to fix it?
“Um, just a stupid bar fight. It was nothing. You should see the other guy’s face.” Luke plasters a fake smile on his face, but his dull eyes and the tightness around his mouth convey his true feelings.
I tilt my head. “A fight?”
His chuckle is forced. “Yeah. The parties I go to are pretty wild.”
I study him for a long moment, silently noting the way he averts his gaze.
Lies, lies, lies.
Clearly, he’s hiding something. But whatever it is, he doesn’t want to talk to me about it. What right do I have to push him for answers?No matter how badly I want to be his confidant, I haven’t earned that level of trust.
I reluctantly jerk my chin toward his computer. “I’ll load another assignment for practice into your work queue.”
