SECRETS THAT WE KEEP

1. Bella-4

“Okay,” I whispered. Against my will, my chin wobbled, and a sob tore up my throat. “I’m sorry.”

“What? No.” Stepping toward me, he took me in his arms and hugged me. “Damn it, don’t do that, Bells. Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry. Please don’t cry. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s…” I hiccupped and grabbed the material of his shirt tight as I hid my face in his chest. “It’s not your fault. You’re being all awesome and honorable and sweet, trying to do the right thing. And I’m…” Sniffing as more tears fell, I bowed my face in shame and squeezed my eyes tight. I might not be too drunk to decide if I wanted s*x or not, but I was too drunk to keep my emotions in check, it seemed.

“I’ve been a mess since ending my engagement. Because of what it all did to me inside my head. I never knew I was the kind of person who could be so easily deceived. I’m not the shrewd, insightful badass that can spot a liar and a cheater right off the bat, like I always thought I would be. I’m just a gullible i***t. And I—I just don’t know. I’m just sorry I messed everything up between you and me, too. I—”

“No, no,” he insisted. “You’re not an i***t at all. And there’s absolutely no way you could mess anything up between us. Not because of one drunk night.” Pulling back so he could see my face, he set a finger under my chin and urged me to look up at him. When I refused to open my eyes, he kissed my forehead gently. “Listen to me. Tonight will in no way affect the way I feel about you. Hell, if anything, I’ll probably like you even more now.”

Startled to hear that, I opened my eyes. “Really?”

People usually left when they got too close and learned how pathetic I actually was.

But he looked as serious as a heart attack. I hadn’t scared him off at all.

“Really,” he confirmed with one solemn word. “Because to me, you are still that shrewd, insightful badass. But seeing you question and doubt it right now gives you a human element that’s actually kind of approachable. And sweet.”

Hope sparked in my chest. Maybe I wasn’t a lost cause. Maybe people could love me just the way I was.

I met his gaze, and he sucked in a harsh breath. “Damn,” he whispered. “You’re so f*****g beautiful and tragic-looking when you’re sad like this. I swear, no one cries as perfectly as you do.”

I smiled through my tears and set my palm against his warm cheek. “Thank you.” When he closed his eyes and shuddered under my touch, I murmured his name and pressed my forehead to his.

He blew out a breath before cupping my cheek in return. His hand was large and warm and male, and when his thumb idly stroked my jaw, wiping at a single tear, I sighed, relaxing deeper against him.

In return, he tensed. His fingers shifted to drag with intoxicating slowness into my hair. Tipping my face closer, I shivered with delight when his breath washed across my lips.

I lifted my gaze to his.

He studied my eyes for a moment before hissing, “s**t, s**t, shit.” Temptation swirled in his expression even as he added, “Maybe just one kiss.”

“Yes.” I nodded stupidly and strained toward him. He puffed out a single breath and set his lips to mine.

It was so soft, merely a dusting of warmth against warmth. Then a hungry groan reverberated through his throat, and he moved his mouth experimentally, as if testing to see how I would react.

I mimicked his actions, opening slowly when he did. The moment his tongue touched mine, however, lightning shot through my veins. I jerked in surprise, and he captured my face in his hands as if to steady me.

I gripped his wrists and slanted my mouth to the side, gaining more access, more heat.

He stepped closer.

I stepped closer.

Our fronts brushed accidentally and then on purpose, until we were pressing together as tightly as we could. His hands wandered down my face as his lips continued to move against mine. His hat fell off, or maybe I knocked it off so I could bury my fingers in his thick, soft hair.

When his hips ground close, I felt his erection, hard and ready, against my stomach. I wanted it inside me. And I didn’t mean to, but I ground against him, riding the hardness and imagining it pulsing and hot and deep, moving and stretching things inside that suddenly felt too tight and swollen and achy to ignore.

“Jesus.” He jerked, pulling away and gasping as he shook his head.

I felt too drugged into the moment to reply. So I merely watched him from blurry vision.

He made a production of wiping his mouth, then scrubbing his hands over his head and blowing out a long breath.

Then, without a word, he took off, stalking down the hall away from me.

I slumped into the wall, breathing hard, wanting to call him back or chase after him or do something to draw him back into my arms, but I knew that wouldn’t be smart. So I hugged myself and dropped my gaze, only to spot his hat on the floor.

He never went anywhere without his hat, so I rushed to snag it from the carpet, calling his name. “Fox! Your hat.”

He’d made it to the door and yanked it open by the time I blew into the front room. But at the mention of his hat, he paused and bowed his head as if debating what to do. Then he glanced at me where I cowered in the opening to the hall, hugging the hat to my chest.

“Son of a b***h,” he murmured to himself before he shut the door and turned to me fully.

Like a splash of cold water to the face, I realized what I’d just done. “Sorry,” I said, my face flushed and breathing ragged. “Sorry. I…” Shaking my head, I closed my eyes. “Sorry. You can go. Really.”

But he wasn’t going anywhere, and we both knew it.

When Fox didn’t answer, I opened my eyes to check on him. He simply stood at the closed door, his hand still on the knob, watching me. We shared a long look before he dropped his hand, licked his tongue over his bottom lip, and started toward me.

“It’s fine,” he assured in a low voice. “It’s going to be just fine.”

Reaching out, he took his hat from my hand. He glanced down at it for a moment, then he ran his thumb over the frayed bill before he looked up at me and blindly tossed his hat onto the coffee table behind him.

“It’ll be better than fine,” he swore.

And my panties became soaking wet.

His nostrils flared as if he could smell the pungent moisture, and his gaze went heavy-lidded.

God, I think he could make a girl come just by looking at her.

“So here’s what’s going to happen,” he said, gently taking my hand. “I’m going to walk you to your bedroom, strip all your clothes off you, and f**k you for the rest of the night. And then, in the morning…” His eyebrows lifted meaningfully. “You’re not going to regret a single thing we did together.” Squeezing my fingers, he asked, “You good with that?”

Holy s**t.

“Yes,” I answered, pretty sure I was already halfway through my first o****m. “I’m good with that.”

Fox nodded. “Perfect. Then follow me.”

And I did.