Page 4 of Every Silent Lie
His hold tightens. “Better?”
“Much,” I reply, tightening my hold too.
His head does that wonderful, thoughtful slight tilt again, his eyes twinkling. “Take a seat.”
“I’ve had too much to drink to do that.”
He nods, contemplative, and it’s so fucking sexy. His broodiness. His impassiveness. His detachment. How he isn’t revealing his cards. I like it. Most men I encounter in hotel bars lay it on thick. Throw some naff one-liners, chat-up lines, or a strategically placed fact about themselves hoping to impress and seal the deal. They never impress. I’m not interested in being impressed. I’m interested in escaping. Killing time. They help with that for a while. Until they don’t.
It’s unhealthy, even I, in my warped walk-through life, can appreciate that. Which is why I tell myself it won’t happen again, usually immediately after it’s happened. They never turn me on. Never make me come, so I do that myself. And they never spike the incredible tingles like I’m feeling all over my skin now.
“Don’t you trust yourself?” he asks.
I pull my hand from his, and it’s instantly cold again. “Not in the least.”
Lowering to his chair, Dec relaxes back, drink in hand, and kicks his ankle up onto his knee. Every perfect inch of him pushes against the material of his shirt and trousers, giving me a good idea of just how perfect he is beneath. “Well, it was nice to nearly get to know you, Camryn.”
“Good evening, Dec.” I slowly turn and walk away, stopping at the entrance when he calls my name. I’m forced to take a breath before I look back. He’s still relaxed in his chair. Still casual. Still impassive.
“You’re very beautiful,” he says quietly.
I don’t thank him, because he’s wrong. I get out of there before I do something utterly stupid. It wouldn’t be the first time, but I vowed the last time would actually be the last time.
You’re very beautiful.
He wouldn’t say that if he knew me. I’m a mess. No one truly wants a mess.
I push through the revolving door and break out into the cold, dark air, tying the belt of my coat, my shoulders a little hunched. The temperature has dropped, but the martinis will keep me warm on the walk home. The martinis are undoubtedly also the reason why I turn onto Regent Street and brave the pre-Christmas chaos, as well as the twinkling light displays stretching from one side of the street to the other.
Following the curve of the buildings, I walk slowly, dragging out my journey, unable to stop myself from taking in the faces of people I pass. Most smiling, either with someone or chatting on the phone.
My pace automatically slows as I approach a particularly busy stretch of the pavement, pedestrians stepping into the road to avoid the bottleneck of people trying to get into a store. A toy store. The sound of children screeching their delight invades my ears, parents laughing at the staff dressed as elves on the door blowing massive bubbles, enticing the kids into the magical wonderland full of toys and teddy bears.
I don’t realise I’ve stopped walking completely until someone brushes my shoulder as they pass me, making me stumble a few steps forward. I right myself quickly, catching my bag as it falls off my shoulder. “Excuse me,” I murmur, leaning back on my heels when a huge bubble appears before me. It hits the tip of my nose and pops, and an eruption of laughter breaks out, startling me more than the bubble. I glance around, seeing all attention pointed my way, and the six-foot elf responsible for blowing the bubble is approaching me. I can see what’s about to happen a mile off. I’m going to be used as a prop. Of course he’d find the most wretched person within reach. The person who looks like a challenge. I’m certainly that. “Oh, no,” I say, backing up as I lift my hand, warning him back with that too.
“Oh, yes!”
“No, no, no.” I laugh, nervous and wary, as children in the line outside the store start jumping up and down, egging the elf on.
“Yes, yes, yes,” he sings, putting the bubble wand at his lips.
I feel the inevitable churn of my stomach as I back up, the unbearable slice of pain through my heart. “Please, I’m really not in the mood for fun and games.” My eyes dart from the elf to the kids in the line, taking in each of their smiles, their happiness, their excitement. And then the parents all delighting in the sounds of their kids’ happiness.
Another bubble comes at me, and I lean back, as well as step back.
Too far.
“Fuck!” My heel slips off the edge of the curb as a collection of loud, horrified gasps fill the air. Bracing myself to hit by the ground or be taken out by a car, I clench my eyes closed, holding my breath.
“I got you.”
I’m suddenly buried face first in a chest, and the smell that hits me saturates my senses. Clean. Manly. Sexy. I look up and meet eyes I’ve seen before this evening. The impact of them staring into mine so closely steals my breath and makes my heart ping. “Are you following me?” I break away, uncomfortable with the warmth rising from my toes into my belly, the same warmth I felt when he held my hand to shake it.
He steps back too. “I’m not following you.”
“So you often hang around toy stores, huh?”
“No, I don’t. But you do.”
