Page 3 of The Truth in My Lies (Secrets of Suburbi 1)

"You can barely walk. Come on." He started walking, forcing me to hop along with him.

"I'm not going in that house." God, who was watching us right now? Were rumors already spreading? As much as I loved his hands against my skin, they didn't belong there.

"That house? You're acting like something's wrong with it. It's a perfectly fine house, I assure you. And it contains Band-Aids and ice packs. Both of which you currently need."

"I'm not using their Band-Aids and ice packs." He was still pulling me toward the front door. It would have been a lot easier for my voice to sound demanding if I wasn't distracted by his skin pressed against mine.

He laughed. "Then you can at least borrow a pair of crutches so you can get home." He opened up the door like he freaking owned the place.

I pulled back. I wasn't going inside that house. It was like I could already hear the gossip. There was zero chance that this was happening.

"I promise I don't bite." The smile at the corner of his mouth made it seem like he was lying.

My words were gone again. He was standing there with his shirt off, practically begging me to come inside. How many times had I dreamt of this? But that's what dreams were for. This couldn't actually happen. I couldn't be alone with him. My eyes gravitated to his. For a moment, I was pretty sure I stopped breathing. I had never seen eyes the color of his. A bluish-green that put the ocean to shame. There was one other thing that made me feel alive besides running. Watching the waves crash against the sand. I loved the beach. But I hadn't been in years. I blinked as if I was trying to dismiss the memories.

His smile faltered when I didn't respond and his dimple disappeared. "At least come in so you can call someone to come get you."

Someone to come get me? Now I wanted to laugh. I had no one. Not one single person that cared about my wellbeing. So how exactly was I planning on getting back to my house? I couldn't walk. Was my grand plan to crawl home on all fours?

"Or you could tell me where you live," he said. "I can drive you home." He pulled his keys out of his pocket.

I didn't know what was worse. Going into that house or having him know where mine was. What looked worse? My mind was spinning, but I couldn't come to a conclusion. They were both bad. Really bad. Why were those the only two options?

He raised both his eyebrows like he was growing impatient as he waited for my response.

I put my hands on my hips, somehow managing not to fall over. "Look, buddy..."

"Buddy? Really?" He laughed again.

At me. Somehow I hated and loved his laugh at the same time. "You called me, ma'am."

His smile was back. And that dimple that I couldn't not focus on.

"That's why you refuse to come in? No Band-Aids or crutches from someone who calls you ma'am?"

"I'm not an old lady."

"No...I'm well aware of that."

Those ocean blue eyes scanned my body. They lit me on fire. No. The run had overheated me. That was all. And I was desperately in need of a glass of water.

"Stop it," I said. I kept my hands firmly planted on my hips. "I have neighbors. Gossipy, horrible neighbors that are probably staring at you staring at me right now. I have to go." Somehow.

He gave me a look that made me feel insane. "Stop what? I'm just trying to see how hurt you are. I'm trying to help you."

"Well, I...I don't know you." My rebuttal was pathetic. I wasn't a five year old outside a white van filled with candy.

"And I don't know you."

I had nothing left to say. He had to close this door that didn't belong to him. And we had to both go on our merry ways. Although, my way wouldn't be quite as merry. More like incredibly painful. "So, I'm just going to..." I pointed over my shoulder, like that meant anything. "Yup," I mumbled and started to turn around at the pace of a turtle.

"This is ridiculous," he said. He stepped forward and lifted me up in his arms. Like I was a freaking damsel in distress. If only he knew.

Chapter 4

Did he make a habit of whisking women off their feet and taking them into houses that didn't belong to him? I contemplated if this was something an axe murderer would do. Probably. So why wasn't I fighting him off? Why was I just enjoying being in his arms?

My bickering attitude had completely evaporated. I was already inside the house. The rumors were already spreading. For one moment, I wanted to just enjoy myself. I wanted to know more about him than just the way he looked and smelled. I wanted to be able to fill my fantasies with substance.

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