Page 164 of A Smile Full of Lies
I did. Obedient, even now.
When the bottle was empty, he pulled me against him again, cradling me in his lap like I was made of glass.
“You scared the shit out of me,” he said quietly, nose in my hair. “I meant what I said. I thought I was going to lose you.”
“I know.”
He kissed my temple. My cheek. My lips.
“I’m not letting you go,” he whispered. “Not after this. Not ever.”
“I don’t want you to.”
He tucked the blanket tighter around me, his arms holding me like armor.
“I’ve got you now,” he said. “And I’m going to take care of you. Always.”
And I believed him. Because he already had.
The silence returned, not cold, not distant.Just… heavy.Like everything had finally settled… except what was still lodged in my chest.
I tucked my face under his jaw and whispered, “I wanted you, Knox. Even when I was with Thayer.”
His whole body tensed beneath me, but he didn’t speak. His arms tightened around me.
“I felt so fucking guilty for it,” I breathed. “You were his best friend. And I — I couldn’t stop it. You made me feel safe. Seen. And every time you looked at me like I wasmore… I wanted you.”
Even when he wore the mask, even when he chased me, I should’ve known it was him. I think maybe some part of me did.
Still no answer. But his hand slid into my hair, and when I finally lifted my gaze to meet his, eyes glassy and wide, he wasn’t angry.
He waswrecked.So, I gave him everything I had left in me.
“I think I was always yours,” I whispered. “Even when I thought it was wrong.”
“You were,” he said. “And you still fucking are.”
Chapter
Thirty-Eight
DECEMBER 8
ROS
I woke,and the pain settled in slowly, like the aftershocks of a storm.
Not the sharp, brutal kind he’d wrung from my body the night before, no. That had come and gone in waves, in punishment and release, in confession and consequence. This was different. Softer. Deeper. Like my soul had been stripped raw and left trembling in his hands.
My body ached everywhere. My nipples throbbed from the clamps, my thighs still trembled with phantom overstimulation, and my voice was hoarse, half from screaming, half from sobbing.
But I wasn’t crying anymore. I was still. Quiet. Hollowed out in the best and worst way.
Wrapped in his arms. Tangled in our ruined sheets. His chest pressed to my back, one hand splayed low over my stomach like he needed to feel me breathing.
“I’m not letting you go,” he’d whispered last night. “Not after this. Not ever.”
And I believed him.
