Page 65 of The Lies We Tell

Feelings of being a fuckup are replaced with a feeling of being cherished.

“You need to make me stop,” I tell her, but she doesn’t listen. “Or I’m going to come hard down your throat.”

Her eyes flash to mine, daring me to.

And then I can’t stop myself. I give into the sensations and take her hard, knotting her hair in my fist to hold her where I want her. I’ve given her outs. I trust her to use them. When she doesn’t, I thrust harder, faster. I watch her eyes water even as they stay focused on mine.

The visual, the feeling, the fact it’s Briar giving me this. Giving me something raw. Giving me what I need.

And I come. Waves so hard, my knees shake, and I have to reach back and hold on to the dresser as I thrust three more times.

I keep my eyes closed as she eases me down gently.

When I finally open them, she’s kneeling in front of me. “Better?” she asks.

I am.

I tug my T-shirt over my head and clean up the mascara tracks and the wetness from around her mouth. “Now what can I do for you?”

Briar smiles softly. “You can tell me the truth.”

24

BRIAR

Iwatch as Saint looks up to the ceiling and inhales so deep that his shoulders lift and his abs tighten. Then he blows it out in one long breath. The pause issolong, I wonder if he’s going to do as I ask.

I’m turned on from what we just did, yet I feel a disconnect. “There’s a distance between us. And while most guys can easily separate sex and emotions, I can’t. I need truth and honesty more than I need orgasms.”

“Fine. But let’s get cleaned up and make coffee first.”

I brush my teeth and wash my face while Saint cleans himself up and gets dressed. By the time I meet him in the kitchen, he’s already made a pot of coffee with the nicer coffee beans I bought. If he’s noticed the difference, he doesn’t say anything.

He hands me a mug. “Let’s go sit in the yard.”

With his hand on my back, we step outside and sit on the makeshift bench. For a moment, Saint simply cups his mug and rests his elbows on his knees.

“My moral compass is shot, Bri. I’ve lost who I am.”

Of all the places I was expecting him to start, that wasn’t it. “Tell me.”

Saint sits up, sips on his coffee. He doesn’t say anything, but something tells me he’s trying to figure out what to say.

And my earlier feelings of arousal from what took place in the bedroom are replaced by fear.

I wonder if he’s going to tell me he’s some kind of assassin.

“Please tell me you’re a good person and not some mass murderer,” I blurt.

Saint shakes his head. “I’m in this mess because I’m, more often than not, a good person. I work for the ATF—Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives. I’m undercover with the Iron Outlaws.”

I lean my head against his bicep, trying to figure out how I feel about that. “Okay. A noble starting point. I’m guessing much of this is lies.” In the big scheme of things, whether what’s between us is real or false shouldn’t be the most important thing, but to me it is.

“Hey,” Saint says. “Perhaps the only truth in all this is my feelings for you, Briar. Don’t look at me like I’m someone else. Everything I’ve told you is true when it comes to you and me. My real name is Ryker Miller. My cover, Phillip York, was a real army chaplain who passed away after he left the service. I use his name with his father’s permission because motorcycle clubs tend to check these things. That there really was a Phillip York enlisted and that he really was an army chaplain.”

He shifts and tips my chin before placing his lips on mine. The kiss is soft and lasting. I sigh against his mouth. It calms the chaos racing through my mind.

“There are so many things I want to ask you,” I say. “So many things I want to understand.”