Page 27 of Lies Beneath Secrets

Mine, even if I have to take her.

CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR

Lauren

I lazily stretch my body across my bed but pause when my hand comes into contact with a hard chest. I jerk my head up in that direction to see Conner lying next to me, sound asleep. Last night barrels back at me in full force. I panic a little bit, then suddenly realize I’m fully naked. I get up as quickly and quietly as I can and find the pants I was wearing last night, then pull them on so my legs are covered. I grab a tank top and yank that over my head. Conner still hasn’t moved an inch. His large body is stretched out with his arm over his face as he softly breathes; every now and then, a slight snore escapes him. I smile because it’s kind of cute to see him like this. I stare at his naked chest for far too long and realize there’s a tattoo on his right pec. I begin to lean forward to see what it is, but he suddenly rolls over, and I take that as my sign to leave the room.

My face heats when I think about what we did last night. The man has to be part machine. By the time we had sex for the second time, I was ready to pass out. He didn’t let me though. Instead, he kept me going for two more rounds. And that tongue of his? The man knows how to use it. My sex life isn’t much to compare last night to, but the three other guys I’ve been with did not have the skill he showed last night. I suppose that comes with experience. I try to douse the thoughts I suddenly have of him with other women. It’s irrational, but I find myself annoyed with the vision of him with anyone else but me.

“Wow, what has he done to me?” I whisper and walk out of the room. I don’t want to wake him yet. I need a little more time to process things.

I go to my bathroom and pull off my clothes I just put on and start the shower. I let it run for a bit before getting in. I wash away all traces of Conner and remind myself not to be so careless again. I might be on birth control, but I have no idea who that man has been with. I shouldn’t have thrown away the condoms Piper gave me.

Shaking my head, I turn off the water and step out to grab my towel to dry off. I inspect my healing burns when I get to my legs. A couple of them are fading away, but the two newest ones still need some ointment. I pull my box out from under the sink and dab a little bit on each one. As always, guilt seeps in as I look down at the scars. Thoughts of disappointment and embarrassment cloud my mind before I snap my first aid kit shut, then put it away. Trying my best to push everything down deep, I grab my robe off the door and wrap it around me before stepping out of the bathroom. When I don’t hear anything, I quietly make my way back to my room.

CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE

Con

I crack my eyes open to see her step out of the room. I hear her moving around and getting dressed, but I don’t want to let her know I’m waking up. Giving her a little time to adjust to what happened last night will be better. Sitting up in bed, I look around the room and take it all in. It’s not spotless, but it’s not a mess either. Neatly cluttered could be the words to describe it. She has a small closet with the door wide open with a dresser inside it. Its drawers are mostly open, and there’s a pile of clothes on top of it. Next to that is a basket overflowing with what I assume is dirty clothes.

My gaze moves from her closet over to the table next to her bed. That’s when I see it.

A journal.

The need to find out what’s written in there, if she wrote anything about that night, eats at me every second I stare at the small blue book. Tattered from being opened and written in for weeks—probably months. Did she start writing in it after that night? Or has it been something she has done since she was younger? Are there more? Shaking my head, I look away. I can’t look at it. Not even a peek to make sure she has only talked about things that won’t get her killed. Yet here I am. As soon as I hear the shower turn on, I’m grabbing the journal and opening it up to the first page.

It’s not what I expected though. Not the typical dear diary, this is something entirely different.

1:36am

Woke up out of breath. A tall, dark shadow holding my throat with claws for fingers. He’s so tall and lifts me completely off the ground to bring my face to his. “I’ll find you” he tells me. “I’ll kill you.”

3:09am

The same man was back again. I couldn’t breathe and just before I passed out, I jumped up in bed. I couldn’t see him, but I know it was him. That man. The one who broke in. I feel that he’s still out there every time I step outside.

I drag in a deep breath. There are no dates on these entries, only times. Looking up toward the bathroom door, I strain to hear if the water is still running. I don’t know how long her showers normally take, but I want to read more.

2:45

The man is there. Has me trapped until someone comes into the room. I don’t see who it is; I just remember feeling that I didn’t need to be scared anymore. I don’t think that’s true. I still feel as though I’m being watched.

“What are you doing?” I freeze. I’m so enthralled, I didn’t even register the bathroom door opening.

“Shit.” It’s all I have to say. I won’t play stupid; she doesn’t need that. “Sorry. I got curious. You have some bad dreams, baby.”

“Please put it back.” She turns from me and goes to the closet, disappearing for a moment. I do as she says and get up from the bed, finding my jeans as quickly as I can. I sense there’s more conversation to be had about this situation, and I’d rather not have it completely naked.

“Look, I’m really sorry but damn, that shit sounds scary.” I don’t know why I take it further. I should drop it, but it’s nagging at me. What did she see? The man in the dream has to be King.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Conner.” She brushes past me. “I need to get to work.”

“You don’t start for another hour,” I argue. “Why won’t you let me in?” If there ever was a more hypocritical question, I’m not sure what it could be.

“Let you in? You’re here, aren’t you? I think I’ve let you in pretty well,” she scoffs. “You’re one to talk though. How about you tell me where Gabby’s mom is? No, you won’t because while I need to let you in, you won’t letmein.” She takes a sweatshirt from the hook by the door and yanks it over her head.

“You want to know where Gabby’s mom is? She’s dead.” Lauren freezes in her tracks and turns to face me, her skin going slightly pale. “She was murdered by her husband.”

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