Page 141 of Unspoken Lies

I should be annoyed, but I’m not. I don’t even mind that I’ll probably have to hike up a cliff in this dress.

CHAPTER 32

ELIJAH

Ican’t keep my eyes off of her. Her chestnut curls bounce as she walks, her face tilted up to the sky with a smile. Her happiness is infectious, her curves making my pants uncomfortable to walk in as I watch her.

“Hey, creeper. Go talk to her,” Liliana says, her body slamming into me.

“Oof. Are you body lifting criminals and chewing on lug nuts? You’ve always been way too strong,” I complain.

“Such a baby,” she smirks. “Go on. Talk to her and don’t fuck it up.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I grumble, increasing my speed until I’m walking next to her.

Nacio glances at me with his brow raised, and I nod at him. He shortens his stride so he drops back to where Liliana is walking, until it’s just Rachelle and I.

Don’t talk about how gorgeous she is when she comes. Don’t be a pig.

“You look happy,” I say instead.

“Good, I am,” she says with a smile.

“You’re always beautiful, but when you’re happy, it’s impossible to look anywhere else but at you,” I tell her.

Woah, where did that come from? I’m not smooth, not unless I don’t give a shit about the person I’m speaking to. It may seem counterintuitive, but there’s nothing for me to lose then. With Rachelle, every word I say to her feels as if it carries more weight.

“That’s really sweet,” she says with wide eyes and pink cheeks. Fuck me dead right now. I have absolutely no game.

“The view at the top is gorgeous,” I finally say, swallowing hard. “Think you can do it?”

“I do,” she says obstinately, even though her chest is beginning to heave from exertion.

Holding out my hand, I wait for her to slip her smaller one inside. We continue to walk until I look behind me and realize everyone else has fallen back. Tugging her toward a tree, I pick her up around the waist.

“What are you up to?” she asks with a questioning smile, wrapping her legs around my waist.

“Something I’m mad I didn’t do sooner,” I admit.

My hand moves to her ass to hike her up higher until she gasps. Yeah, she now knows exactly why my pants are too tight. My erection is angry and hard. Fingers tangling in her hair, I run my nose up her throat.

“I should have kissed and fucked you in the tower, Rachelle,” I growl in her ear. “Your only tears should happen when you’re gagging on my cock or coming around it.”

Kissing her, I wait for her to hit me, but it never comes. Instead, her arms wrap around my neck, and her fingers play with my hair at the base of it. There’s absolutely nothing that compares to this. Kissing my guys is primal and raw, while Rachelle is sweeter and more innocent.

How we were willing to cast her as a whore in high school is beyond me.

“Are you going to get her all riled up or are you actually willing to finish the job?” Liliana asks, startling me.

And they say that I’m stealthy.

“I’m not the one who edges her,” I retort.

“You’re just asleep on my chest, weighing me down while they do it,” Rachelle says, laughing.

“Well then, show me,” Liliana says, crossing her arms over her chest.

Is it possible to have performance anxiety?