Page 111 of A Smile Full of Lies
Fuck.
The sound of it wrecked me.
Christ. I’d wanted her to say it, but not like this. Not so goddamn bare, like she’d just carved herself open and offered me her heart, bloody and trembling in her hands.
I leaned in until our foreheads touched, grounding her with the simplest point of contact, even as my chest felt like it was splitting down the middle. Her breath shuddered against my mouth, quick and fragile, and I let myself take it in — her heat, her scent, the tiny quiver in her hands as they fisted into the front of my shirt.
“I’ve wanted to hear that for a long time,” I whispered, low and steady, because anything louder might break her.
Her lashes fluttered, tears brimming but not falling, and I could feel the way she sagged just a little against me, like the weight of holding it in for so long had finally snapped. Relief poured off her in waves, like she thought this was the moment the war ended.
“No more masks,” I murmured, brushing my nose against hers. “No more pretending.”
Her breath hitched, but this time it wasn’t panic — it was hope.
God, it gutted me. Because she believed it. She believed me.
Her fingers curled tighter into my shirt, and she nodded, lips parting like she wanted to say it again, to etch the truth into the air between us until it couldn’t be taken back.
I didn’t kiss her mouth. Couldn’t. If I tasted her like this, I’d lose the last shred of control I had. Instead, I pressed a slow kiss to her temple, holding her in that fragile illusion.
“Good,” I whispered. “That’s exactly what I want.”
Her whole body exhaled at once, trembling as she let the tension bleed out of her frame. She thought I’d given her peace. Thought I’d laid my own armor down and met her where she stood.
But inside, my blood was wildfire.
Because she had no idea.
No idea the mask was still on. No idea the strings were still tangled around her wrists, pulled tight in my hands.
She’d just handed me everything, and I wasn’t about to set it free.
I didn’t want to step back. Not when she’d finally said it, not when her hands were still fisted in my shirt like she thought I was the only thing holding her upright. But if I stayed, I’d push too far. I’d give in, strip it all bare, and I couldn’t — not yet.
So I eased out of her grip, slow and gentle, and pressed one last kiss to her temple before I put space between us.
Her eyes tracked me like I was gravity itself. Hope had replaced the panic there, fragile and luminous, and it made something inside me twist sharp. She believed me. Believed this was real.
Good. Because it was.
I grabbed my jacket off the chair, sliding my arms through the sleeves, and said it low, steady: “I’ve got something I need to take care of in town. But when I get back tonight…” I let the pause linger, just long enough for her breath to catch. “I want to do something for you. Something that’s just ours.”
Her lips parted, eyes wide.
“Knox — what are you talking about?”
I gave her the smile I knew would undo her — soft, private, the one I’d never given anyone else.
“You’ll see.”
I wanted to tell her everything. That the mask she thought was a stranger was me. That her confession had landed in the only hands that would ever keep it safe. That she didn’t have to split herself between the man she wanted and the shadow she’d bared herself to, because they were one and the same.
But I couldn’t. Not yet.
So I left her with a promise instead. A night I meant to make hers, in every way I could without burning the whole game to the ground.
I scooped my keys off the counter and headed for the door. Her shoulders were still trembling, but the set of them was looser now, her expression softer. Like I’d taken some of the weight from her chest and carried it with me.
