Page 19 of A Smile Full of Lies
“Because you look shaken, and I want you to know I made it okay, so you can go back to sleep rather than staying up and worrying about me crossing the bay at this hour.”
Damn it, that ruined me a little.
I stood there, stunned into silence as the door clicked shut behind him.
That was it?
Just… I’ll text you when I get there?
Like this was normal. Like this was something he did all the time — slide in, scare the shit out of me, make my heart race for more reasons than one, and then disappear like nothing had happened.
But it wasn’t nothing. We’ve watched movies together every Wednesday night since he moved in next door to me. He knows I love horror movies, and I enjoy a good jump scare more than I probably should, but it hits different when the jump scare is your six-foot-four neighbor dressed in all black and pilfering through your kitchen in the middle of the witching hour.
My pulse was still too loud in my ears, my skin still too hot in all the wrong places. I was keenly aware of every inch of exposed skin now — my thighs, my bare arms, the stretch of cotton riding too high on my hips. It was like my body had only just now caught up to the fact that Knox had seen me like this.
Not dolled up. Not ready for company. Just raw, half-dressed, and vulnerable. And somehow… he didn’t take advantage of it.
He noticed. Of course he noticed. But he didn’t say anything cruel. Didn’t crack a joke. Didn’t let his gaze linger inappropriately. He just… registered it and respected it. Like my lack of pants wasn’t the most interesting thing about me right now.
My chest ached with the weight of that kindness.
And that made everything worse because I didn’t know how to hold this… whatever this was. This thing between us was too layered to call simple, too soft to be casual, and far too intense to ignore.
I padded back toward the hallway on shaky legs, unsure what to do with the way I still felt his presence in the room. The scent of his cologne lingered — clean, dark, and achingly familiar. My breath hitched.
I didn’t know what scared me more: the fact that he left, or the part of me that wished he’d stayed. By the time I made it back to bed, I felt like I was vibrating out of my skin.
I crawled under the covers, and tugged the blanket high over my hips like it might hide the truth I couldn’t face. The sheets were still cool, and my body was anything but. Heat pulsed low and steady in my core. A slow, guilty ache that throbbed harder the more I tried to ignore it.
What the hell was wrong with me?
I should’ve been scared out of my mind, finding a man who could easily break me in half in my kitchen in the middle of the night. Even if that man was Knox. Especially because it was Knox. Big and quiet and calm as sin, standing there in the dark like he belonged here.
And that was the worst part… how much of me believed hedidbelong here.
I squeezed my eyes shut and let my head fall back against the pillow, but it didn’t help. The image was burned too deep behind my eyelids: Knox standing there in black, his boots planted wide, that slow, calm voice like he’d never once questioned the rightness of being there. Like I was his. Like he’d do it again.
God, he looked like he belonged in an action movie. Big enough to break a man in half, but soft enough to make me a PB&J with marshmallow fluff.
And maybe that was the problem. He looked like the kind of man you trust, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would’ve felt like if he hadn’t been so nice.
If he’d pressed me into the fridge, pinned my wrists, and whispered that he needed more from me than his spare key.
The thought made me squirm. Made me sick… made mewet.
I buried my face in my pillow and groaned. There was definitely something wrong with me.
I rolled onto my side and pulled the blanket higher, like it could smother the heat still licking under my skin. My thighs pressed together out of reflex, but it didn’t help. I was too aware of every inch of myself - my skin too tight, too hot, too raw in all the wrong places.
I’d nearly screamed his name in the kitchen. Hell, Ihadscreamed. But not for the reasons I wanted to. Not for the way my body still responded to the echo of his voice. Not for the way his boots had thudded softly on my floor like a warning —he’s here, he’s here, he’s here— before I ever saw him.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
I was supposed to feel safe around Knox. Comforted. Grounded. Instead, I feltexposed.
I buried my face in the pillow again and tried to will the thoughts away, but my brain wasn’t cooperating. It kept replaying the scene on a loop: his sharp blue eyes, the clench of his jaw when I yelled, the intoxicating almost-smile that felt like a dare.
He’d looked like he could pin me to the wall without breaking a sweat. And I… I didn’t hate the idea.
