Two Truths and a Lie

by Ashley Stoyanoff

  It wasn’t supposed to be this complicated. I wasn’t supposed to have to face Peck again until he was in handcuffs, and I definitely wasn’t supposed to care about the private investigator.

  I shift on his lap and wipe away some tears, trying to pull myself together. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

  He nods as though he expected that response. “Another option is that you can come down to the police station with me, go through some mug shots and see if you remember anyone.” He hesitates for a moment, and lets out a long drawn out sigh. “Dad seems to think that if he was doing anything shady, you’d probably have met some of the guys he was working with. If you can point us in the right direction, we could nail him for something else and get him put away.”

  My brow furrows. He talked to his dad?

  How would Mr. Chapman even know this?

  I want to ask, but I don’t. There’s something about his expression that tells me now is not the time to get into it, and if I try, he won’t be giving up any answers.

  Jason takes in my furrowed brow and leans toward me, quickly kissing my lips. “We’ll get this sorted, darlin’. I promise you that.”

  I stare at him for a moment, contemplating on what to do. Honestly, none of the options seem great to me. “What do you think I should do?”

  He considers my question for a few seconds, his hand running up and down my back. “I’d like you to try and ID some of his associates.”

  I hesitate. I’m not sure what to say. My instincts say, yes, whatever you think is best, but that means trusting Mr. Chapman again, and do I really want to do that? Something tells me that Jason is feeling the same way.

  “How am I supposed to do all that in two hours?” I ask.

  “You won’t,” he says. “If you want to try that, we’ll go in tomorrow morning to look at the mug shots.”

  “But he’s—”

  “He ain’t gonna get near you, darlin’,” he says, cutting me off. “I swear to fucking God, he won’t lay eyes on you if you don’t want him to. Cruz will serve him with the restraining order when he shows up at the station to get you.”

  I don’t know what the restraining order will do. Most likely, it’ll just piss him off. But if he tries to break it, at least they’ll be able to pull him in for that.

  My lips curve into an involuntary smile and I nod. “Okay.”

  A smile slowly spreads across Jason’s face and his amazing dimples make an appearance. He runs his hands down my back, slipping under the hem of my tee and sliding back up. He leans in to me and I think he’s going to kiss me, but he pauses and holds, a mere inch from my lips. “Glad that’s settled.”

  He kisses me then. His lips are so soft, and his kiss is so, so gentle. His hands caress my back, making my skin tingle, and then they’re back on the hem of my shirt, pulling it up.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, wiggling away, and tugging my shirt back down. I don’t get far, his hands go back to my ass, holding me on his lap. “There are a bunch of people here.”

  Jason grins. “Wes and Vance cleared everyone out when I came up here to talk to you about the options,” he says. “Listen. The house is quiet, darlin’.”

  The butterflies in my stomach flap wildly as I listen to the silent house.

  We’re alone.

  Oh God, we’re really alone.

  I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, biting down on it. I’m nervous. So, so nervous, but whatever it is that’s happening between us … I want it.

  I want more.

  “Told you this morning I shouldn’t have let you sleep last night,” he says, his lips teasing and nipping along my neck. “Don’t want to wait another minute to make you mine.”

  A shiver ripples down my spine, and I feel a tinge of excitement.

  His.

  Oh God, I like how that sounds.

  I’m blushing. He sees it. I know he does. That cocky smirk tells me so.

  I say nothing, though I do lean in and kiss him. That seems to be enough for him. His hands capture the hem of my shirt, and I lift my arms, letting him pull it off.

  Leaning back slightly, he tosses my shirt to the floor. His hands drift down my arms, down my chest, and stop at my breasts. He gropes them a bit over the fabric of my bra and his mouth comes back to mine.

  The kiss is frenzied.

  His touch is firm.

  He tastes like mint and coffee.

  It’s intoxicating.

  When he pulls back, I’m gasping, I’m dizzy.

  Jason makes quick work of removing my bra, before his hands grip my hips and he stands me up, positioning me between his thighs. His hands run down my body stopping at the button of my jeans, his eyes following them, and he unbuttons my pants, pulling down the zipper, and tugs them off of me, along with my panties, leaving me bare.

  Slowly, his eyes scan me from top to bottom before trailing back up again. “Beautiful,” he whispers. “Fuckin’ gorgeous.”

  He meets my gaze, stands up, and steps right in front of me. I can feel his heat; smell his cologne. It’s a heady scent. I lick my lips and he groans, watching my tongue as it peeks out.

  And then he’s on me, his hands pulling me into him, his lips melding with mine. He lifts me up, his lips trailing my jaw, my throat, as he places me on the bed, before he undresses himself, and climbs in next to me.

  I swallow hard, my eyes drawn to him. I only get a quick glimpse of his sculpted body and impressive cock, before he shifts his body so he’s on top of me. He nuzzles my neck, trailing kisses and licks and nibbles, as his hand slides down my body between us, and when his fingertip grazes over my clit, my back arches and I gasp through the shock of pleasure.

  My heart is hammering in my chest and my eyes drift close as his fingers play against my clit. “Love that flush on you, darlin’,” he says. “Fuckin’ gorgeous.”

  My body is heating, tightening. I can feel the pressure building, my orgasm coming as his fingers work their magic.

  I’m close.

  So, so close.

  And then … he shifts. His hand pulls away; his lips leave my skin.

  I make a sound. A whimper? A moan? A frustrated growl? Ugh, I don’t even know. It doesn’t sound natural, that’s for sure.

  Jason chuckles, shifting ever so slightly. “Want to be inside you when you come,” he says, as he reaches over to the nightstand, and pulls out a condom. He tears the wrapper open with his teeth and leans back, gripping his cock, and rolling it on.

  “I want that, too,” I hear myself say, blushing furiously.

  I’m nervous.

  Oh God, I’m nervous, watching him fit the condom in place, but I’m also excited and needy.

  I want him so, so much.

  “You want me to stop, you just tell me, yeah?” he says, leaning back down, and rubbing his cock against my opening.

  “I don’t want you to stop,” I say. “I want you. Oh God, I want you.”

  Jason pushes inside me then, filling me deeply. I gasp, my hands going to his hair and pulling his mouth to mine. It doesn’t take him long to find his rhythm, his thrusts are slow, deep, and every part of my body clings to him as pleasure sears through me.

  His hand comes between us, his thumb circling my clit as his cock fills me, over and over again.

  I’m gasping.

  I’m moaning.

  I never knew sex could be this … good.

  This amazing.

  Pleasure bursts inside me. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before, and hearing the deep moans coming from Jason’s lips increases it.

  I move my hips, thrusting up to meet him as he thrusts down, urging the pace faster, harder.

  “You’re close,” he tells me; his voice is strained as he quickens his pace, his thumb still working my clit faster and faster.

  He is not wrong.

  He groans against my lips, and orders, “Come with me, darlin’. Now.”

  And I do.

  I come with him.

 
It’s beautiful. The pleasure and the long groan he lets out as his body stills and my body clenches around his cock …

  I don’t know how to explain it.

  Beautiful.

  So unbelievably perfect.

  I’m so definitely not in hell anymore.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Jason

  Elena sings in the shower.

  I’m lying on the bed, listening to her. She can’t hold a tune for shit and when she doesn’t know the words, she hums. Her humming is even worse than her singing, but I swear it’s still the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.

  She’s happy.

  I made her happy.

  And that makes me fucking ecstatic.

  Elena screeches out a high-pitched note and I laugh, glancing over to the bathroom door, which is hanging open. All I see is steam and her foggy silhouette behind the frosted shower curtain.

  I haven’t felt this good in a long time. It’s not just the sex, though that was incredible. And the way she flushed … Goddamn, I want to see that rosy flush coloring her skin again.

  And again.

  And again.

  Hell, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing that flush.

  But it’s not just that. It’s Elena. She makes me feel good. She makes me feel needed. She makes me … feel.

  Elena’s singing comes to an abrupt halt as the shower turns off. The curtain slides open and she reaches for a towel.

  “Jase,” she calls out. “Are you still here?”

  “Yeah,” I say right away, sitting up. I climb off the bed and glance around the floor, looking for my boxers. I spot them in a pile at the foot of the bed, snag them up, and tug them on.

  Elena steps out of the shower after a moment, wrapped up in a fluffy white towel. She eyes me nervously, fiddling with her wet hair.

  She takes a deep breath, and then another. “I want to be there when Peck gets handed the restraining order.”

  I stall, not sure what to think or where exactly this is coming from. Not even an hour ago she was freaked at the thought of having to face him and now she wants to be there when he gets the piece of paper that will most likely piss him off?

  Has she lost her goddamn mind?

  “Not sure I heard you right, babe,” I say slowly, pushing the words out. “You want to be there when Peck gets the restraining order.”

  She nods, looking at me anxiously, but determined. “Yes.”

  Sighing, I turn my head, looking away from her. I rub a hand down my face, before bringing my eyes back to hers. “Not sure that’s such a great idea, darlin’.”

  Hesitating, she opens and closes her mouth as though she’s lost for words, before she manages to whisper, “I don’t want him to think I’m running again. I want him to know that I’m done hiding from him.”

  I regard her for a moment, before casually strolling toward her, stopping a mere foot away. My gut and my brain are telling me to shoot the idea down, but my heart seems to have entered the playing field and it’s telling me to give her whatever she wants.

  Anything.

  Everything.

  She’s under my skin, so deep under it’s as though she’s always been there.

  I open my mouth, ready to tell her no, but her sincere expression causes me to swallow it back. “You sure you wanna see him?”

  Her smile grows a bit and her shoulders relax. She thinks I’m agreeing with her, that I think no harm could come of the asshole laying eyes on her.

  She’s wrong.

  I don’t agree.

  Actually, I think her being there could cause a hell of a lot of harm, particularly to her mental health.

  “Yes,” she says. “I’m sure.”

  She steps over to me, wrapping her arms around my neck, and she lifts up to her toes, kissing me quickly. My arms snake around her waist before she can step back, and I trail my hands up her back, stopping at a patch of bare skin at the top of her towel.

  Her skin is damp and warm.

  Goddamn, I love touching this woman.

  “Please, Jase,” she says. “I’ve got to face him sooner or later and I’d really prefer it to be on my own terms.”

  I consider it for a moment, before letting out a resigned sigh. Saying no will only piss her off, and really, what real danger could she possibly be in at the police station. It’s probably the safest place for her to confront him, if that’s what she feels she’s got to do.

  “I’ll give Cruz a call,” I say. “Have him set up an interview room for you, yeah?”

  She smiles and kisses me again. “Thank you, Jase.”

  I hope she’ll still be thanking me after she sees him.

  Elena

  Detective Cruz wasn’t as easy to convince as Jason.

  He scowled at me. He right out told me no. He even threatened to throw me in a holding cell if I didn’t get my butt out the door and back to Jason’s house.

  But he relented.

  Finally.

  It took thirty-eight minutes of arguing while I filled out the application for a restraining order, but he gave in.

  I almost wish he hadn’t. But it doesn’t matter now. Peck is here and I’m not going anywhere.

  I’m standing in an interview room with a long wooden table and six chairs, waiting for him. I tried to sit, but I couldn’t keep still, and standing feels better.

  Easier to bolt if I have to.

  Wes and Vance are sitting, both with their backs to the door, and Jason has pulled a chair away from the table, lounging beside where I stand. His hand is hooked around one of my thighs, a silent reminder that he’s here and I’m okay.

  They’re all so relaxed.

  It’s crazy if you ask me.

  I continually glance at the window, forcing myself to stay still and not pace, as I watch for Peck to come down the hallway. I’m a bundle of frazzled nerves.

  Wes and Vance are talking about … cars? Football? A case, maybe? I don’t know. Their voices are barely a whisper, and their heads, tilted toward each other. I’m watching them, distracting myself with reading their lips, when I feel Jason’s hand squeeze the inside of my thigh.

  My head jerks up, spotting Cruz first, and then Peck. He hasn’t noticed me yet, his head turned away, talking with the detective, but I can see a hint of a smile.

  A smile!

  Breathe. Just breathe.

  This is what you wanted. You wanted to be here when he got the restraining order. Of course he’s smiling. He thinks he’s coming to get you.

  Pushing back the swell of panic, I swing my eyes to Jason’s. “You’ve got this, darlin’.”

  He sounds so certain of that.

  I almost believe him.

  “Right,” I mutter. “I’ve got this, but …” I reach down, drifting my hand over his fingertips. “Don’t let go, okay?”

  He smiles up at me—full dimples—and he says, “Won’t let go. Promise.”

  Five, ten, fifteen seconds pass, before the doorknob turns, and the door opens. Wes and Vance don’t turn around. They keep their eyes on me, centering me, reassuring me.

  I’m safe.

  Safe.

  Safe.

  Safe.

  Detective Cruz comes in first. He blocks the doorway, God love him, as he scans me from tip-to-toe, assessing me. On his way back up, his gaze pauses on Jason’s hand, wrapped around my leg, and he shakes his head, disapproving.

  I get it.

  Why poke the bear, right?

  But I need his hand right now, and I lean closer to him, silently begging him not to let go.

  He doesn’t. He gives me a soft squeeze, and then lifts his chin, signaling Cruz to get out of the way.

  With one last scowl, Cruz steps aside, and there he is.

  Officer Lawrence Peck.

  His eyes come to me and my breath catches on the nerves crawling up my throat.

  I swallow hard.

  Peck sees it.

  He likes it. Likes it when I’m nervous.
/>
  I can see the excited glint in his eyes as he watches my throat work, but it doesn’t stay there long, as he quickly fixes his expression to one of concern.

  His gaze stays fixed on mine as he enters the room, closing the door behind him. He doesn’t seem to notice the guys. He doesn’t seem to notice anything other than my face and the fear it is undoubtedly showing.

  He steps toward me and I force myself not to flinch. There’s a table between us still. A table and Wes and Vance.

  Jason is right beside me.

  Cruz is beside Peck.

  I’m safe.

  I swallow again.

  The excited glint returns to his eyes, and then vanishes once more, and for just a moment, I have to admit, Peck looks good, even if panic tears through me at the sight of him.

  The concerned fiancée look really works for him. He’s in a suit, white shirt with the top couple buttons undone, and a green tie hanging loose around his neck. His blonde hair is spiked and gelled, and his emerald eyes glow with concern.

  He was always a great actor.

  Looks as though he still is.

  “Baby,” he murmurs, holding out his arms and motioning me to him.

  I don’t move.

  I blink a few times, caught off guard by the softness in his voice. Even when he was being kind, his tone always held an unspoken threat that’s missing right now. “Um … Hi, Lawrence.”

  He takes another step in my direction, and I quickly hold up my hands, warding him off.

  The room falls silent.

  Jason squeezes my leg, reminding me he’s there.

  I can barely hear the others breathing over the sound of my racing heartbeat.

  Peck frowns. “Jesus, El, I’ve been out of my mind worrying about you. I thought you were dead. I can’t believe you’re really here.” He smiles, although there is nothing nice about that smile, and he motions again for me to come to him. “Come here, baby. I need to touch you.”

  He needs to touch me?

  He thought I was dead?

  Oh God.

  Is anyone believing his bullshit?

  I want to look at Jason, to see what his expression holds, but I don’t.