Page 50 of Unmasked

“Are you shocked that I know you so well?” Lainey asked, still looking out over the water.

“You don’t know me as well as you think. One accurate psychoanalysis doesn’t change that.”

“But you do hide from the world,” she pressed.

She had an inkling that he covered up his true self for the same reason she relied on zany antics and a crap ton of eyeliner—for fear that people wouldn’t like what was underneath. She fought against a memory of being dumped because she’d dropped out of school.

Not like she had a choice. School had been slowly stifling her—trying to stuff her into a box that was too small and too dark. She couldn’t seem to follow the rules that were designed for kids with long attention spans and the ability to make sense of numbers. Lainey’s skills lay in areas that weren’t marked on paper.

Nowhere in the curriculum had she been praised for her ability to defuse a tense situation or cheer someone up. The fact that she could instinctively tell what colours would look good on people meant nothing. Not even in art class could her creativity flourish because, even there, the rules had stifled her.

After that, she’d learned to be someone else. She wore short skirts and acted out. She attracted guys who didn’t care that she still counted on her fingers, guys who were only after one thing. All so she could call the shots. So she never again had to face the humiliation of being dumped because she wasn’t good enough for the longterm.

“It’s something I have to do,” he replied, concentrating on his ice cream. It was torture watching his tongue and lips devour the treat with surgical efficiency.

“Why?”

He shook his head, and a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Things have happened that make me wary of putting myself out there.”

“I haven’t done anything to criticise the way you are.”

“Other than calling me boring or stodgy, you mean?” He took a bite out of his waffle cone. “What about that one time you said I was the Antichrist of fun?”

Lainey’s cheeks burned. “Okay, so maybe I said those things. But it’s because...”

“I’m no fun?”

“You are when you allow yourself a little breathing space.” She shrugged. “You always act like it’s your job to protect everyone around you.”

“It is,” he said without hesitation.

“No, it’s not. I appreciate all the times you’ve bailed me out, I really do.” Lainey finished off her ice cream and put her hand on Damian’s knee. “But you need to stop worrying about everyone else and start worrying about yourself. Or else you’ll be a...what did you call yourself?”

“A curmudgeon?”

“Yeah, that.”

“I’m never going to stop worrying about you.” He turned and Lainey got the full force of his Blue Steel stare.

Could he see right into her soul? Did he know that she was a woman who wanted to run away from her life? Away from the fear that she would forever be in one-sided love with him?

The feeling slammed her in the chest with the force of a freight truck. Sure, she’d thought it so many times before—that she had a thing for Damian. An insatiable, unending schoolgirl crush on her best friend’s handsome older brother. Harmless...until it wasn’t.

Love. How was it possible to love someone who didn’t love you back? It was cruel that humans had been designed that way. She tugged on the hem of her dress, paranoid that her fear and devastation were shining out of her.

“You don’t need to cover it up, Lainey. I saw it all last night.” His words hitched, his voice rough and ragged around the edges.

Was he referring to her body or to the unwieldy mix of terror and desire warring inside her?

She swallowed, her hand lifting to cup the side of his face. A light stubble showed along his jaw, and her thumb swiped against his lip to capture a tiny smear of chocolate. The only movement he made was the quickening of his breath, hot against her hand. He kissed the pad of her thumb, then caught her hand and pressed his lips to the inside of her wrist.

Darkness engulfed his eyes, grey irises shrinking until there was nothing but a mere rim of it around two bottomless black holes. “I hide because I’m afraid that I might hurt you.”

Lainey puffed out her chest, chin tilted up to him. “I won’t let you hurt me.”

She wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Because if she allowed him to crash through the careful fence she’d set up around this encounter, he’d railroad her heart until it broke for good. This was just sex—fulfilment of a fantasy. And that was all it could ever be.

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