Page 52 of These White Lies
Her face scrunches, and she mumbles something.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I murmur, and her face smooths.
I stare at the ceiling for several minutes, wondering how the hell I’m going to resist the temptation next to me.
Especially when I don’t want to.
14
ELIZABETH
The first thing I register is warmth. The second is the faint, steady sound of snoring beside me. I blink, disoriented, staring at a plain ceiling I don’t recognize. My pulse skips until I turn my head, and see Brady lying next to me.
He’s on his back, one arm folded under his head, his tattooed bicep bulging. His dark T-shirt is rising and falling with his slow, deep breaths, and his hair is a sleep-tousled mess.
And it’s sexy as hell.
My body reacts before my brain can catch up, tension leaving my muscles as if his presence flips some sort of safety switch I didn’t even know I had.
For a moment, I just… watch him. There’s really no other, less creepy way to say it. His full lips are half-hidden in scruff that’s a lot thicker than it was yesterday, shadowing the sharp planes of his cheeks and jaw. My gaze drifts over the strong lines of his face, so arrestingly male, and I’m reminded that I’ve always been attracted to the polished type. Men in suits and silk ties, as groomed and career-obsessed as I am.
Who do I think I’m kidding?
With his raw masculine beauty and confident attitude, Brady iseveryone’stype. It’s an odd juxtaposition. This alpha male,who didn’t hesitate to sacrifice his body to protect me, is also the man who held my hand in the hospital and worries about my pain.
His presence calms me, and I’m done pretending it doesn’t.
I must have known intuitively the first time we met that he was different. Safe. It’s the only explanation for how uninhibited I was with him.
Not that he doesn’t piss me off. He flips from an irritatingly cocky good mood to a protective German Shepherd in a nanosecond. And the brooding I saw downstairs…
Nerves spin in my stomach. I haven’t trusted anyone—trulytrusted anyone—in longer than I can remember. After my colossal failure of judgment with Keith, I’m not sure I even trust my own instincts. Over the last four years, it’s been easier, not to mention safer, to do everything on my own. If I don’t rely on anyone, then they can’t let me down.
They can’t hurt me.
But I’m so fucking tired—an exhaustion that has burrowed itself into my bones.
I can’t do this by myself anymore. I can’t keep myself safe, and I don’t even know where to begin in order to fix it. Brady hasn’t let me down yet.
Am I really considering letting him in?
A memory of his words four years ago flashes through me.
“Tonight, we could be whoever we wanted. Even if it was our true selves.”
Something that night let me be honest with him in a way that is foreign to me. And even when he could have thrown the fact I almost got both of us killed in my face, he didn’t.
The realization loosens something in my chest.
Still… I haven’t forgotten the detective’s words at the hospital. The damn drugs just made me too fuzzy to press him. I’m clearheaded now.
I reach out and touch his shoulder lightly. “Brady,” I whisper.
He’s awake instantly, eyes snapping to mine, sharp and assessing. “Hey. How are you feeling?”
I do a quick body scan. The throbbing in my side has dulled to a faint ache. “Better,” I admit. “Maybe I really did need the sleep.”
He sits up, rubbing a hand over his face, and reaches for his phone on the nightstand. “We’ve been out for eight hours. It’s almost dinner.” His voice is gravelly from sleep. “And you missed a dose.” He frowns at the screen.
