Page 157 of The Secret We Keep
“Morgan.”
“Please, Paddy. I’m ready.”
“No.” I remove my hands and hold her arms behind her, sitting up straight. “Not yet.”
She’s breathing heavily, looking down at me. “If you love me, and I love you, then why can’t we do this?”
My teeth grind together. My heart squeezes. This isn’t how I wanted this weekend to go. But I can see the look in her eyes. She isn’t going to let this go. “Because I’m trying to do what’s best for you.”
She smiles but gives me a wry look. “Iknow what’s best for me.”
How can I tell her that isn’t strictly true. “Trust me?”
“Idotrust you, Paddy. That’s how I know I want this.” Her hips subtly roll forwards, her slick pussy rubbing against me.
I drop my head to her chest. “Why do we have to rush this?”
“Because you showed me how to live in the now. And right now, I need you, Paddy.”
My head rolls side to side. “You need me to be the bigger person right now and see beyond all of this.”
Looking down at us both, Morgan lets out a sad sigh. “Okay.”
My grip on her arms loosens, and once she’s out from under my hold, she’s climbing off me.
Grabbing the duvet, she covers herself, and I know my shitty attempt to do the right thing has well and truly backfired. Her eyes never meet mine, her self-confidence dwindling right in front of me.
“Talk to me.” I lean forwards and sweep her curly locks that I love so much behind her ears in an attempt to make this right.
“What’s wrong with me?”
Her direct question has my body turning to ice, muscles rigid and tense. “How do you mean?”
“I mean,” she starts, tone thick with rejection, “what’s the problem? Why do you keep making me feel like I’m so special, then stop when I tell you I want more?”
My heart cracks. Sweat begins forming on the back of my neck. “It’s complicated.” I try in vain to ease her mind, seeing her getting more confused.
“Is it me?”
Yes. “No.” My hand pulls at the back of my neck.
She’s quiet. Watching me. “Oh my God.”
“What?”
“You’re lying.”
“What?”
Morgan points at me. “You always do that when you’re lying.”
My hand drops to my lap with a thud.
Jumping off the bed, my heart hits my throat when she starts grabbing her clothes from her half open suitcase. If this goes how I think it’s about to, then I can kiss goodbye to her ever trusting me again.
I take the sheets with me, scrambling to stop her—to make her listen.
Listen to what? The truth?
