Page 4 of Cruel When He Smiles

Liam exhales, shaking his head, and then the asshole puts a hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently as if we’re friends and he’s trying to help me through this.

My entire body tenses at the contact, at the sheer audacity of him touching me, but Dr. Ellis is already nodding like she’s impressed that he’s being the bigger person here. But under his fingers, I feel the message:“You’re not the one in control.”

“Nathaniel—”

“Nate,” I say through gritted teeth, loathing that fucking name. “It’s Nate.”

“Nate,” she says with a sigh, “this is about self-control. About learning how to regulate your emotions. Liam’s offering you peace.”

He’s offering poison. Sugar-dipped and wrapped in silk.

My skin crawls. Every instinct in me screams to shrug him off, but I don’t move. Instead, I sit there and let it burn, let him think he’s winning even though I want to break his fucking hand. But I don’t do anything.

Because that’s what he wants, isn’t it? He wants me to react, wants me to lose it so he can sit back and watch me prove him right. So, I do the one thing I know will piss him off.

I smile.

A slow, cold curve of my lips; an expression that holds none of the warmth that he’s pretending to have. I reach up, pat his hand once before shoving it off my shoulder, then lean back in my chair, forcing my body to relax.

“Sure,” I say, and my voice is light now, amused. “Maybe Ioverreacted.”

Liam’s eyes gleam.

Dr. Ellis doesn’t see the moment, but I do. That flicker behind his eyes, the brief crack in his endless calm. It’s gone in a blink, replaced by that same smug, impenetrable grin.

She seems pleased. “I think we’ve made some progress today.”

Yeah. He played her like a fucking violin.

I push up from my chair. “Are we done?”

Dr. Ellis frowns but checks the clock. I don’t miss the way Liam watches me; studying, assessing, and already planning whatever the fuck his next move is.

“Yes,” she says. “I expect to see both of you next week.”

I don’t bother responding. I’m already halfway out the door, and I feel as Liam follows.

He doesn’t speak right away. He walks next to me, casual, unhurried, like we’re friends leaving class together instead of two people forced into the same room because I hit him, and he fucking let me.

“Hey, Carter,” he calls casually. “You forgot to thank me.”

I stop and take a breath before I give them another reason to put me in time out with Dr. Ellis. When I turn, I notice he’s only a few feet away, too close in the narrow hallway. “For what?”

“For making you look like a misunderstood rebel instead of an unhinged delinquent. You’re welcome, by the way.”

I blink at the audacity of this guy. “You’re full of yourself.”

“Comes with the territory,” he says with a grin and steps in closer. There’s a wall at my back because of course there is. He times this shit perfectly. His voice lowers and drops into a warm and coaxing tone too soft for the threat hiding beneath. “You like when I push you, don’t you?”

I clench my jaw. “Back the fuck up.”

He ignores the command but scans my face. His voice stays soft and intimate, but every word slides under my skin like a knife. “God, you’re cute when you’re mad.”

I suck in a stuttered breath. “Stay the fuck away from me, Callahan.”

His eyes glitter with malice. “Can’t. We’ve got more sessions together. And besides…” That smile again—slow, creeping as his gaze drags over my face, and my body breaks out in fucking goosebumps. “I think we’re going to be good for each other, Pup.”

The word slithers through the air and slides down my spine like a live wire. My whole body tenses, a split second away from reacting, and I hate that the part of me he always manages to get under—the angry, spiteful, completely screwed-up part—doesn’tjusttense.