Page 58 of The Truth in My Lies (Secrets of Suburbi 1)

I looked up at him. His eyes had narrowed slightly. He wanted to know. He was eager to know. And I desperately wanted to share with him. I wanted to tell him about all the hurt. All the lies. Everything.

But my body didn’t care what my head wanted. I stood up and walked over to him.

“I’ve cheated on my husband.” I straddled his lap. I wasn’t sure where the sudden surge of confidence came from. Maybe it was because he wanted to know what was behind my pretty face. He wanted to see what lay beneath the surface. I ran my fingers down the back of his neck and tried to keep breathing as I watched his Adam’s apple rise and fall.

“You’ve barely cheated on your husband,” he corrected, his hands settling on my waist.

“We could fix that, you know.” I wanted him to kiss me. I had already made the first move. It needed to be him. He had to choose whether or not he was okay with this. Suspecting was one thing. Knowing was another.

“What other bad things? Because I don’t think you and I can be classified as bad. This is too good.”

I sighed, pressing my forehead against his. So good. “Remember when I said everything is black or white? That there is no in-between?”

“I remember.” His fingers wandered into my hair and he took a deep breath, like he was inhaling my scent.

“I’m one color.”

He shook his forehead against mine. “I don’t think that’s true, Addy.”

“It is. I’ve done things…there’s no going back. You asked me if I was good or evil. And I didn’t answer. Because I didn’t want you to know that I was the latter.”

“You, Addy, are anything but evil.”

“But you have no idea what crazy thoughts run through my head.” I held my breath as I waited for him to respond. No, I hadn’t actually told him I was insane. But it was close to a confession.

“You’re not crazy to want to get back at him for hurting you.” His fingers fell from my hair and he pulled his forehead off mine.

That wasn’t what I had meant. But he was looking at me like he understood my pain. Like he wanted to help carry my burden.

“You don’t have to stay here and try to get him on film. Come home with me. Let me protect you.”

I wanted to say yes. I wanted to play the damsel in distress and have him carry me back to his place. But I was terrible at admitting when I was wrong. Maybe that’s why I hadn’t asked for help when the abuse first started. Because I was the idiot who married a monster. And I was going to be the one who stopped him too. I needed this.

“I’m tougher than I look,” I said.

“I wasn’t implying that you weren’t. You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.” He gently brushed the side of my jaw with the back of his knuckles.

It was a startling contrast when I was used to knuckles on my skin being anything but gentle. I was so sick of being numb. I wanted him to be the one in my bloodstream instead of the remnants of medicine. I wanted him to be what was pulsing through my veins at all times. I wanted him to be the only thing messing with my head. I needed him. I was just about to open my mouth when he broke the silence.

“We can take our time. There’s no rush.”

He was so gorgeous. It was hard to say anything to him, let alone beg him to take me. But I had the strangest sensation that I was running out of time. “Some things don’t need to be drawn out.”

“You deserve to be savored. And our first time isn’t going to be like this. Not when your mind’s moving a mile a minute. Not after what you just told me.”

“So much for coming in my back door,” I whispered.

He didn’t laugh. He looked like he was in pain. “I’m going to help you, Addy. We’re going to figure this out together.”

“How do you always know the right thing to say?”

“Oh, I’ve watched a lot of movies.”

I laughed. “It shows.” I didn’t want to climb off his lap. I felt whole when we touched. My hands slid to his shoulders. “So what if he hurts me somewhere besides the kitchen?”

“I have more cameras. Where else should I put them?”

The thought of Ben watching me in the bedroom made me feel nauseous. I didn’t want him to see me with my husband. Him seeing me in the kitchen was bad enough. I tended to lose myself in the kitchen. I couldn’t even count how many times I threw things out of the pantry or ended up in a ball crying on the tiles. That was bad. Seeing me sleep? Seeing me with my husband? That was significantly worse. “Never mind.” I looked down at the buttons on his shirt. I just wanted to undo them and forget about this conversation.

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