Page 31 of The Lies We Tell

I shake my head. “Briar, there’s no time limit. You need to process what happened. I brought something for you.” I pull the final item out of my bag. She gasps at the sight of it.

It’s a bag with the slip of a dress she was wearing when she ran to me. “I picked it up and bagged it the very first night. There’s evidence on it. And they can test DNA for years after. You don’t need to deal with it now. But if you decide to, you’ve got it.”

I offer it to her, but she won’t take it.

“I can’t,” she says, pushing it away.

“I know. And I understand your reasons. But—”

“I mean, I can’t do this. I know we cleaned the apartment. I know you made it secure. I just ... I’m not ready to be here yet. I’ve barely stepped outside your house, and now there are millions of people out there who I walk by every day and one of them could be ... one of them could grab ... I can’t ... I just ... I—”

“Fuck,” I grunt as I drop the bag on the sofa before stepping right into her space and tugging her to me. “It’s a really bad idea to stay with me, Briar. There’s shit going you can’t know. I don’t know if you’re safer with me or here.”

She tips her head, in tears again, her eyes wide. “Please don’t make me stay here, Saint. I’m begging you.”

Her words whisper through me, mingling with Matthew 7:7. “Ask, and it shall be given unto you; seek, and ye shall find; knock and it shall be opened unto you.”

“What?” she asks, her words muffled against my chest, and I realize I spoke the verse out loud.

“Briar, look at me.”

She does as I ask, and my heart trips.

I cup her cheeks and catch her tears with my thumbs. “My world is messy, sweetheart. But you want to come home with me and stay for a little while, I’ve got you.”

“If I kissed you again, would that make it weird?” she asks.

“Trying not to think about kissing you, sweetheart. Nothing but trouble will come of it.”

“What if I wanted you to show me I’m still okay? Is it the age thing?”

I huff. “No. It’s not even the age thing.”

“Then please show me that I’m not totally broken after what happened.” The wordbrokencomes out on a hitch.

“Briar,” I say, before claiming her lips with mine.

And when I do, I realize there’s nothing broken about this sweet young woman. Her lips match mine as I drag her much deeper than the gentle kiss earlier. If she wants this, if she wants the trouble and the risk, then she needs to see what she’s getting herself into. I grip a fistful of her hair in my hand as I tilt her head back, holding her exactly where I want her.

Her tongue is tentative against mine at first, all soft and smooth, and I wonder what it will look like licking its way along my cock.

My dick punches against my jeans; there’s no doubt she can feel it as her greedy hips move against mine.

She wants to get off, I can help with that. I lift her and press her up against the wall, lining her pussy up so it drags against my cock. Fuck, it feels good. Even though denim and cotton separate us.

“You want it, Briar? You need to take it.”

She rocks against my cock, and I shift from her mouth to her throat. Her fingers sink into my hair, holding me in place. She’s like lightning in a bottle. I run my tongue along her neck, savoring the salty tang of her. She gasps when I nibble the soft spot behind her ear.

I palm her ass, holding her in place as I give her what she needs.

What she’s asking for.

Her movements lose form. Her pace stutters as she comes on my dick, and it’s everything I can do to not come in my jeans.

“Saint,” she gasps. And I know I’m fucked.

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