Page 69 of Black Ties and White Lies

I look down, proud of what I’ve created. It’s probably my best work, the details perfect.

Beck’s fingers grab my chin, lifting my face to stare at his.

For the briefest moment, I wonder if something like desire flashes through his eyes. I tell myself I’m making it up. This is Beckham Sinclair, Carter’s older brother. I’m probably the last person that could elicit a look of desire from him.

But…

The way he looks at me, his cold stare softening has me wondering. His lips press into a thin line, his jaw clenching. It’s like he’s working hard at keeping his mouth shut to keep himself from saying whatever is on his mind.

He traces over my lip with the pad of his thumb, leaning in a fraction of an inch.

He leans in closer. I lean in closer. Our breaths mingle.

I want him to kiss me.

I snap back to reality at the thought.

I scurry away from him, putting as much space between us as possible. I carelessly throw my art supplies into a bag, needing to get back to the house.

To get back to my boyfriend.

I’m trying to shove my box of pencils into the bag when it snaps open, pencils tumbling to the towel. I reach to grab them when he beats me to it.

“Look at me,” he demands. I do no such thing.

I can’t. Tears prick my eyes as I think about what I almost did. What I wanted to do.

What Istillwant to do.

When I shake my head, he stays quiet, although I can feel his stare boring into mine. If I looked up, I bet I’d find his normal, angry scowl on his face.

I swallow, feeling incredibly guilty. I look at my open sketchbook on the towel. With one loud rip, I tear what I’d just drawn and shove it into Beck’s naked chest.

“This is yours,” I force out. I don’t wait for any kind of response. I shove the book into my bag and leap to my feet.

I rush back toward the house when he grabs my elbow, spinning me to face him.

I was right. He looks angry. The muscle in his jaw feathers as he clenches his teeth. I look down to where he holds me. His hand is warm and firm against my skin. He takes the paper I’d tossed to him and hands it back to me. He pushes it into my chest, keeping his hand over mine to ensure I keep it there.

“Keep it as a reminder.”

“A reminder of what?”

“Of unfinished business. A reminder of the night you realized that things might not be as perfect with my brother as they seem.”

He leaves me standing there alone, holding the finished drawing of him. I stare at his retreating back, obsessing over the hidden meanings in every one of his words.

I lether think about my words for as long as she needs. It’s a fact I’ve been sitting on for over a year now. I’ve had all the time in the world for it to sink in. She hasn’t. Her distant stare tells me all I need to know. She’s remembering that summer night.

Good. I love that she’s recalling it. It’s been all I’ve thought about for over a year now.

“What do you mean it didn’t stop that you wanted me?”

My hands wrap around her, pulling her into my body. So much has changed from the moment we stepped into this inn. We showed up here at each other’s throats, doing nothing but arguing. The tables have turned. We finally gave into each other and fuck did it feel good. Holding her in my arms, doing something as simple as taking a bath almost feels even better.

“Margo,” I say, my tone almost a warning. “I think you knowexactlywhat it means.”

She spins in the bathtub, water and bubbles sloshing over the edges with the movement. Her knees stay between my legs as she sits on them, her eyes pinned on me. “You wanted me then?”

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