Page 110 of A Smile Full of Lies
“Not mad,” I cut across, gentle. Too gentle. “I told you that already, didn’t I?”
Her throat worked, like she couldn’t quite swallow.
“Then… what are you?”
I tilted my head, let a slow smile curl my mouth.
“I’m... interested. Fascinated, even, especially after you made the suggestion to me that we be neighbors with benefits and keep things casual. That was just last night, Ros. What changed?”
Her lashes fluttered, the words hitting her harder than anger would’ve. Panic was easy to fight. Interest and fascination? Those things meant she owed me an answer.
I pushed off the counter and circled closer, every step measured. My shoes were soundless against the hardwood, but I could feel each one in her pulse — the way her breath hitched higher the closer I came.
“Because the Rosalind Cooper I know doesn’t go around telling strangers she’s in love with the guy next door.” My voice dropped, low, steady. “Especially not when he’s standing in the other room. And that’s not even touching the fact that you’ve been quite determined to keep me at arms’ length for years now.”
She flinched, just barely, like the memory of the Hollowing pressed in on her — the mask, the call, the way she’d bared herself to someone she thought wasn’t me.
Her silence was everything I wanted.
I let it stretch, savoring it, then took another step closer.
“Let’s talk about that phone transcript, darlin’,” I murmured.
Her lips parted like she wanted to answer, but nothing came out. Just a small, shaky breath that made her chest rise and fall too fast.
I moved closer. Slow. Deliberate. Each step a quiet press of intent across the floor until the edge of the island caught her hips as she edged back, away from my advance.
“You didn’t know I’d see it,” I said softly, like we were just two people working through a miscommunication instead of me holding the blade at her throat. “But you said it.”
Her eyes darted down, then back up, wide and frantic.
“I didn’t mean for you to see it like that,” she whispered. “It was — it wasn’t supposed to go to you?—”
“But it did,” I murmured.
I let the words sink in, low and even, while I leaned one palm on the counter beside her, bracketing her in. My other hand stayed loose at my side, like I didn’t even need it to keep her there.
“You could’ve lied to him,” I continued, voice dropping closer to her ear. “Could’ve told him whatever he wanted just to shut him up. But you didn’t. You told him the truth.”
Her lashes fluttered, throat bobbing hard.
“I didn’t know what else to do,” she said in a rush, voice fraying. “I was scared you’d hate me if you knew how badly I—” She broke off, shaking her head. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”
I let silence swallow the rest, my gaze steady on hers. I didn’t rescue her from the unfinished sentence. I made her sit in it.
“You told him, though,” I said finally. Quiet. Precise. “You told him you chose me. That you had feelings for me. That you didn’t care if I found out.”
Her breath stuttered. A tear threatened at the corner of one eye, but she blinked it back, chin trembling with the effort.
“I meant it,” she whispered. Ragged. Broken. “I just — I meant it, okay?”
I straightened, just enough to look down at her from inches away, boxing her in without laying a hand on her. Her shoulders pressed back against the island, nowhere to go, and still, she didn’t try to run.
“Then say it,” I murmured. “No games. No bullshit. Just you and me.”
Her lips parted. Her throat worked. And the words that tumbled out weren’t rehearsed, weren’t polished. They were raw, ripped straight from her ribcage.
“I have feelings for you, Knox. I care about you. I want you. After last night, I don’t think I can live without you.”
