Page 17 of Pretty Girls Never Lie (St. Mary’s)

It doesn’t mean we’re safe, but we’re safer than before.

Isla’s face pops into my head the second I let my guard down, so I exit out of the inmate list and open up another search engine.

I remember her father’s name.

I remember his face.

I remember their home address.

I remember looking at the closet door seven hundred times before walking out of the house and leaving her with her wailing brother.

After making sure no one is behind me, I type in her name and wait to see what pops up.

It only takes ten minutes to find her alias–along with her age, race, and a short bio. I rub my hand over my face with unease as I stare at her picture on an adoption website. In the photo, she isn’t much older than the last time I saw her four years ago. Her smile is timid, and her blue eyes are bright with fear and a hint of loneliness.

“What are you doing?”

My finger hovers over the mouse, but I don't exit out of the website because there’s no use in hiding it now that she’s standing behind me. I smooth my expression and turn around to look at her.

“Researching.” I raise an eyebrow. “I’d ask what you’re doing, but it’s pretty damn obvious that you’re eavesdropping. Old habits die hard, yeah?”

It’s the first time we’ve spoken since I had my face between her legs, and it’s feeding me like I haven’t eaten in years. I smirk when she storms over to me, leans down, and exits her biography.

Her neck is right there for the taking, and my stomach twists. I lift my hand and push her hair back further to stare at her beating pulse as she continues to lean into my space.

“That’s…none of your business!”

Isla turns her head to me, and our lipsalmosttouch before she jumps back and crosses her arms. The pout on her face is adorable. I smirk deeper, and she scoffs.

“You want my help, but I can’t know anything about you? That doesn’t seem very fair.”

My little search has nothing to do with helping her, but she doesn’t need to know about my sudden obsession with her.

“I don’t want your help anymore.” Isla turns and begins walking away, so I stand up and follow after her. I catch up quickly because one stride of mine is three of hers.

“What changed your mind?” I ask, whispering as we walk past the grouchy librarian.

After she doesn’t answer me, I wrap my hand around her waist and whisper in her ear, “Afraid you’ll spread your legs for me again?”

Fuck, I am toying with her, and I can’t stop.

She gapes at me. Disbelief paints her face like it’s an empty canvas. “Absolutely not. You aren’t going to touch me again. It was…wrong.”

But wrong has never felt so fucking right.

“I’m touching you right now.”

My heart beats faster, and all I can think about is pushing her up against a wall with her legs wrapped around my waist.Obsessed.

Isla puts distance between us after flinging my hand off her waist. Unfortunately for her, it does nothingbut make me want her that much more.

“Leave me alone.”

I wait for a few other unfortunate summer school students to slink past us before bringing up Isla’s problem at hand. “So, you found your brother, then?”

The scowl she’s sporting fades, and she glances down the empty hall.

“I take that as a no.” I lean against the wall next to the portrait of George Washington and squint at her. “You just don’t want my help, then?”

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