Page 25 of The Lies You Love
“What’s Eddie’s Café? I’ve heard of it.”
He drapes an arm around my shoulders and guides me toward a busy intersection. “The dancer. She works there, too.”
“Why was that cause for a swift exit?” I ask. “A girl works hard for her money and has a couple of jobs.”
He sighs, holding his large arm in the air when he sees our ride and opens the door to talk to the driver before moving so I can slide into the back seat. His big body radiates heat on the right side of my body, where he’s pressed up against me. “Everything is fine, Auden. You don’t have to play detective here.”
“I have to,” I clip. “You won’t answer my questions or wait, I get it now. Is she an ex? The stripper? A former fling?”
He cringes and drags a hand down his face dramatically. “No. I just made the connection between the two places. I know the owner,” he says quietly, eyeing the driver in the rearview mirror. “He owns both places and several others.”
The driver isn’t paying attention to us, though, he’s swerving through traffic with the grace of a bulldozer.
“Don’t go back to the club we were at tonight, and don’t go to the café either,” he says, turning my chin up to meet his gaze. “Bad news. That’s all you need to know about what happened tonight.” My heart races. I’m not sure if it’s from his rough touch or the words that he’s said, but it feels like I’m in trouble. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“You really don’t know much about women, do you?” I ask. “When you tell us to drop a topic or forget something, or give us watered-down versions of truth, it makes it so we can’t trust you, and it forces us to dig deeper.” I smirk.
His face pales. “I’m serious, Auden. You know enough to make things tricky.”
“What I’m hearing is that you’re already so involved with me after one night—”
He interrupts, “Don’t forget tonight before we left my place. More than one night now.”
I hold up one finger. “After one night and earlier this evening. You’re saying that’s all it took for things to get tricky.”
Beck’s face is stern, and I feel like he’s going to reprimand me. “Were you listening? I said I didn’t want anything to happen to you, and especially because you’re with me.”
My stomach flips, and I gulp down a shallow breath. “With me, huh.”
“You were seen with me, Auden. That’s enough even when titles aren’t involved.”
My heart drops. “Oh. Of course. Now I just have more questions about what you do and who you do it to.”
The driver makes a final swift jerk and pulls up to the familiar curb outside Beck’s apartment building.
“I’m about to show you exactly what I do and who I want to do it to if you’ll come upstairs with me and stop asking so many questions.”
My car is here, and I didn’t drink too much tonight, I could leave right now. The drive home would be hard because every fiber in my body is vibrating toward him, and let’s be honest, his cock. My core is sensitive and sore from last night. I find my mouth dry, my heart pounding in my ears, and my stomach flailing wildly as I look into Beck’s questioning, hungry eyes. Give him what he wants, my pussy rages. Don’t be a dumb bitch, my brain fires back as an argument. Scooting out, I follow him onto the sidewalk, where the heavy scent of baked dough wafts.
“Ah, the food truck,” Beck says, distracted by the smell. He looks at me, eyes wide. “You hungry?”
Hot soft pretzels and hot dogs. I nod. “Yes, actually. Starving.”
Beck jogs over and buys a paper bag filled with things and returns where I’m loitering by the grand double-doored entrance. “Sustenance,” he proclaims, using his key to get into the lobby. I’m winded when we get to his floor and nearly collapse onto a barstool. He sets the bag down on the island and locks the door behind us. Kicking off my heels, I pull the bag toward me.
As I squirt mustard on a hot dog, I say, “Did you know that for every hot dog you eat, it takes thirty-six minutes off your life?”
Beck grins, and the sexy smirk forces my core to clench with need. “I’m about to give you double that life back with cardio. In my bedroom.”
I swallow the delicious bite and watch as he picks salt off his pretzel before taking half of it in his mouth like a savage. I’m mesmerized by his mouth. “Only if I don’t ask questions about your job and life, though.” It’s not a question, but I can tell he’s contemplating his response.
“I wish I could tell you everything. There are things I have to keep to myself. To a detriment. I can’t tell my family, and secrets are part of my world.”
The next bite doesn’t taste as good. “The lies you mean. They’re lies.”
He shakes his head, still chewing the massive bite. “Not the same thing. I’d never lie to you with the intent of hurting you.”
“What about the lies you tell that are supposed to spare someone’s feelings?” Walker did that for years. When he finally broke up with me, he had the audacity to say he’d been trying to tell me for years but couldn’t because he didn’t want to hurt me. “Those are just as bad as the lies meant to hurt.”
