Page 8 of A Smile Full of Lies (Secrets of Stonewood #1)

And that made everything worse because I didn’t know how to hold this… whatever this was. This thing between us was too layered to call simple, too soft to be casual, and far too intense to ignore.

I padded back toward the hallway on shaky legs, unsure what to do with the way I still felt his presence in the room. The scent of his cologne lingered — clean, dark, and achingly familiar. My breath hitched.

I didn’t know what scared me more: the fact that he left, or the part of me that wished he’d stayed. By the time I made it back to bed, I felt like I was vibrating out of my skin.

I crawled under the covers, and tugged the blanket high over my hips like it might hide the truth I couldn’t face. The sheets were still cool, and my body was anything but. Heat pulsed low and steady in my core. A slow, guilty ache that throbbed harder the more I tried to ignore it.

What the hell was wrong with me?

I should’ve been scared out of my mind, finding a man who could easily break me in half in my kitchen in the middle of the night. Even if that man was Knox. Especially because it was Knox. Big and quiet and calm as sin, standing there in the dark like he belonged here.

And that was the worst part… how much of me believed he did belong here.

I squeezed my eyes shut and let my head fall back against the pillow, but it didn’t help.

The image was burned too deep behind my eyelids: Knox standing there in black, his boots planted wide, that slow, calm voice like he’d never once questioned the rightness of being there. Like I was his. Like he’d do it again.

God, he looked like he belonged in an action movie. Big enough to break a man in half, but soft enough to make me a PB&J with marshmallow fluff.

And maybe that was the problem. He looked like the kind of man you trust, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would’ve felt like if he hadn’t been so nice.

If he’d pressed me into the fridge, pinned my wrists, and whispered that he needed more from me than his spare key.

The thought made me squirm. Made me sick… made me wet .

I buried my face in my pillow and groaned. There was definitely something wrong with me.

I rolled onto my side and pulled the blanket higher, like it could smother the heat still licking under my skin. My thighs pressed together out of reflex, but it didn’t help. I was too aware of every inch of myself - my skin too tight, too hot, too raw in all the wrong places.

I’d nearly screamed his name in the kitchen.

Hell, I had screamed. But not for the reasons I wanted to.

Not for the way my body still responded to the echo of his voice.

Not for the way his boots had thudded softly on my floor like a warning — he’s here, he’s here, he’s here — before I ever saw him.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

I was supposed to feel safe around Knox. Comforted. Grounded. Instead, I felt exposed .

I buried my face in the pillow again and tried to will the thoughts away, but my brain wasn’t cooperating. It kept replaying the scene on a loop: his sharp blue eyes, the clench of his jaw when I yelled, the intoxicating almost-smile that felt like a dare.

He’d looked like he could pin me to the wall without breaking a sweat. And I… I didn’t hate the idea.

I groaned and turned again, kicking the blanket off with a growl of frustration. My skin felt too hot and too bare all at once. The ache between my legs hadn’t gone away, it had just sharpened and gone molten.

This is not normal.

But it wasn’t the first time I’d wanted someone dangerous. Or strong enough to hold me down. Or good enough to make me feel safe even when he was anything but soft.

Knox wasn’t dangerous. Not really.

…Right?

I curled tighter, arms wrapping around my knees, and tried to pretend that the throb in my chest had nothing to do with the man next door.

I stomped out of my bedroom and paced the living room in slow, tight loops, arms still crossed, heart still thudding against my ribs.

The front door stayed locked. I checked it three times.

My phone lay facedown on the coffee table beside my laptop, but every so often, I glanced at it like it might light up with answers.

Fifteen minutes passed. Then twenty. In the back of my mind, I knew he’d be halfway to Mobile at the twenty-minute mark at this time of night.

The man could wear guilt like armor and conviction like a knife. But he’d also calmed me down in record time, which was somehow worse.

Another twenty minutes slipped by before my phone finally buzzed.

I jumped, then grabbed it off the table like it might vanish if I moved too slow.

Knox

Made it to the office in Mobile. Everything’s fine. Go back to sleep if you can. You’re safe, I promise.

I exhaled sharply, some of the pressure in my chest dissolving on impact. That should’ve been a relief, but it twisted something inside me instead.

Because he was steady. Because he meant it when he said I was safe. But also because I didn’t want to be steady right now. I didn’t want safety. I wanted?—

No. I shut that thought down before it finished forming. I told myself I was just glad he’d made it to Mobile safely, and that was that.

Mobile.

God, I hadn’t thought about that night in forever. The time Thayer blew me off, and Knox took me to a BayBears baseball game instead. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything… just two friends, killing time together.

The stadium lights had bathed everything in gold. We’d laughed more than we cheered, shared a plate of nachos, and left before the last inning so I wouldn’t have to watch the team lose again.

The stadium’s still there, all lit up and empty, like a ghost of when we still had a local team to cheer for, right across the bay, and no one had traded us in for some bullshit raccoon mascot up north.

Knox had never made me feel like a backup plan that night. He’d made me feel seen and wanted, without saying a damn word about it.

Me

Thanks for letting me know you made it safely. Hope everything goes okay with work.

I set the phone down carefully, like it might explode if I looked at it too long.

Then I curled up on the couch in the dark, wrapped a blanket tight around my legs, and stared into the shadows, wondering when Knox had become the one thing I couldn’t outrun.