I'll Show You Mine

by Lauren Gallagher

  Surreptitiously watching him now, she tried to reconcile the man standing in front of her with the man she’d been happily sleeping with since Hannah’s wedding. He’d been everything she’d ever wanted in the bedroom, and now…

  Now he was a criminal. A man with a history of violence. Part of her wanted all the details. What had he done? How many times had he done it?

  Part of her was afraid to ask. Couldn’t stomach the thought of how many times she’d been to bed with a man who’d hurt people.

  Shane leaned against the counter, tattooed arms folded across his chest. “So, what now?”

  “You tell me.”

  “I don’t know. Does this…does it have to change anything?” He inclined his head a little. “We’re the same people we were earlier tonight.”

  “We are, but this…” She rubbed the bridge of her nose. She’d been so worried about her history fucking things up, she hadn’t anticipated needing to fit his past into her head.

  “If it helps,” he said flatly, “you’re not the first woman to be put off by being with an ex-con.”

  “And you’re not the first man to have reservations about an ex-adulterer.”

  Their eyes locked. For the first time, the air between them wasn’t just tense, it was cold. Neither of them had come out and commented on the other’s confession until just now, and after that little exchange, she could feel his contempt as palpably as he must’ve felt her…well, she wasn’t even sure she’d call it contempt. She didn’t know what to call it.

  He released a breath and hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “This is going to change everything, isn’t it?”

  It always does. “I…don’t even know. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me. Knowing what I do about you now.”

  His lips pulled tight.

  She sighed. “Look at it from my perspective, Shane. You’re a felon. Felonies are violent crimes.” She folded her arms and drew back a bit. “How am I supposed to relax when for all I know, you could—”

  “What?” His lips parted. “Do you really think I’d hurt you?” He stared at her, nothing but pain in his eyes. “Alyssa…”

  “What am I supposed to think?” She shook her head. “Everything’s been fine up until now, and I want to believe it can stay that way, but I…” She met his eyes, praying he’d understand. That she didn’t have to spell it out.

  He set his jaw. “But you can’t trust me now.”

  “It’s not…” Well, it was that, wasn’t it? “Shane, please…”

  His eyes narrowed. “Maybe you’ve forgotten, but I’m not the only one who’s confessed some sins.”

  “And you think cheating on my husband is the same as—”

  “I’m saying neither of us is a fucking saint,” he snapped.

  Alyssa jumped.

  Shane exhaled. “Look, I’m sorry, Alyssa. This is—”

  “I’d like you to leave.”

  He blinked. “What? Can’t we—”

  “Now. Please.”

  He turned away, raking a hand through his hair. “Do you want to talk about this or not?”

  “I’m not going to ask you again.” Why was she shaking? “Please. Go.”

  He met her eyes, and then swore softly and strode out of the kitchen. A moment later, the front door closed. She went into the hallway to lock it and could still make out his silhouette on the porch steps, as if he’d paused to collect his thoughts or…

  Collect his thoughts. She’d just assume that was what it was.

  After a few seconds, he started down the walkway, and she put her hand on the dead bolt, but hesitated, cringing. Would the click of the lock hurt him? Or piss him off?

  She turned it.

  Outside, his footsteps faltered for a second.

  Alyssa squeezed her eyes shut, struggling to keep her emotions in check. Her mind’s eye showed her every possible reaction he might’ve been having, from barely contained rage to a narrow-eyed fuck you, bitch. But it was the wince, the look of hurt, that made her stomach clench. Was she doing the right thing? So he’d raised his voice once? And after she’d pushed him, no less?

  Alyssa sagged against the wall and covered her face with both hands.

  He hadn’t given her any reason to believe he was dangerous now. Only that he’d made mistakes in his past. Mistakes severe enough to land him in a penitentiary with FELON permanently stamped across his forehead. She had to protect herself and her son, but was she judging him too harshly?

  Alyssa buried her face in her hands and swore into the silence. She never should have let things go this far with Shane. It had felt too good to be true, and lo and behold, it was a fucking disaster. A damn train wreck.

  There was no one she could call. Not about this new development. Not even Tina or Grant. Certainly not Hannah.

  Goddammit. Of all the men she’d tried to date since Grant, why did this one have to turn out so badly?

  And why, out of all the men she’d dated before and after her ex-husband and Grant, did she have to fall harder than ever for this one?

  Chapter Eighteen

  Shane was numb.

  All the way home, both hands on the wheel and his gaze fixed on the road ahead, he didn’t feel a thing. He didn’t even know where to start—should he be hurt? Ashamed? Angry at her hypocrisy?

  Her dismissal had pissed him off and cut him deep at the same time, but as he drove, he was glad he’d left when he did. Another minute of her thinly veiled—and hypocritical—contempt, and he’d have…hell, he didn’t even know. Broken down? Walked out?

  Either way, he was out of there now, the emphatic click of the dead bolt still echoing in his ears, and even though he wanted nothing more than to be in her arms again as if everything were still the same, he also wanted to be as far from her as possible right now. Worse, though he wasn’t even sure if it was real or his imagination, he was sure her scent was on his clothes. On his skin. And it was driving him insane, but not like it had since the day they met—he didn’t want to think about her. Couldn’t stop, of course, but tasting her every time he breathed wasn’t helping.

  Only one thing to do, then. The second he walked through the door, he went straight into the master bathroom and into the bathroom, stripped off his clothes and stepped into the shower.

  As the hot water poured over him, he replayed the evening in his mind. Was it a good thing they’d finally gotten everything out on the table so the chips could fall where they would? Or should they have kept those cards up their sleeves a little longer?

  He sighed, scrubbing a wet hand over his face. There was no black-and-white answer. He was angry with her for waiting so long to tell him and felt guilty as hell because he’d waited so long to tell her.

  He’d known as soon as they’d gotten into bed the very first time that this wasn’t going to end well. But no amount of knowing it was inevitable could stop him from hurting when the reality sank in that she no longer looked at him the same way. Seeing her that tense, that nervous, because of him—fuck. That left a slime of self-loathing on his skin that this shower would never be hot enough to burn away.

  He didn’t know how to feel—angry? Hurt? Afraid she’d never want to see him again? Like he never wanted to see her again?

  And did he want to see her again? Shane was no saint, and he had the criminal record to prove it. But relationships had always been a minefield for him, even before his wayward youth had gotten out of control. He got in too deep and had his heart stomped on for his trouble. Assuming Alyssa would ever speak to him again, did he want to risk a relationship with someone who’d wrecked her marriage like that? Who’d cheated on a man who’d trusted her to stop cheating? It wasn’t like she’d been straying from a casual relationship. They must have had something, at least in the beginning, that led to them getting married, and led to him forgiving her multiple times.


  So what was to stop her from doing it again?

  And what’s to stop you from knocking over a convenience store again?

  Shane cringed. He knew he’d never again cross the lines that had landed him in prison, but Alyssa couldn’t know that any more than he could know she’d never cheat again. They had to take each other on faith, and he was equally frustrated with his inability to make that leap for her as he was that she wouldn’t make it for him.

  Sighing, he tilted his head forward, letting the water run through his hair and over his face. He should’ve known this was too good to be true. Hell, he did, but he’d gone into it anyway because he just couldn’t resist her. They were too compatible in the bedroom. Way too synced on way too many wavelengths. Something was bound to go catastrophically wrong. He shouldn’t have been surprised that it was the past—his as well as hers—that had come in and fucked everything up?

  Goddammit. The shame had cut deep long before she’d come along to twist the knife. He’d hated himself for years after his conviction, after he’d finally turned himself around and realized how far the consequences would follow him.

  Had he really thought for a second that Alyssa would be okay with him being an ex-con? He’d known all along she wouldn’t be, and could he really blame her? Of course not. But goddammit, don’t be such a hypocrite. She’d never hurt anyone like he had, never committed a crime like he had, but she knew more than anyone in the world what it was like to have a past mistake follow her around for the rest of her life.

  No wonder she hadn’t wanted to talk about it after that first night.

  After that hot, mind-blowing first night.

  Against his will, his body responded to the thought of the way he’d had her in that motel room, and then the nights after that. The way they’d fucked in the passenger seat of his car, oblivious to everyone watching them. How it was a rare night when they made it to a bedroom before he was rock hard, and how many times they’d made each other come before they’d even gotten their clothes off.

  Damn it. Regardless of all the bullshit from their pasts coming to haunt him, he couldn’t keep himself from hardening at the thought of tying her. Flogging her. Fucking her. Kissing her. Just holding her against him while they caught their breaths before starting all over again.

  If only to avoid the hurt and his guilty conscience for a little while, he closed his eyes and let the mental image of her carry him away. He braced against the wall, squeezed his eyes shut and pumped his cock with his tight fist. The fantasies—memories, really—wouldn’t stop, so he didn’t try to stop them, and he surrendered to the images of himself in bed with Alyssa. Her gorgeous body. The way she could be so submissive or so aggressive, how she never held back when they were fucking or playing.

  Not until tonight, anyway.

  And now he doubted she’d ever let him lay a hand on her again.

  She didn’t trust him. There was a good possibility she was afraid of him.

  Shame and sadness both tamped down his arousal. His hand stopped. His eyes opened. As tonight’s argument overshadowed the hot nights they’d had before, his hard-on didn’t stand a chance.

  “Fuck,” he whispered over the hiss of the shower. He flattened his palms against the wall. Eyes stinging, Shane let the water rush over his face.

  It wasn’t supposed to be this complicated. They were supposed to have sex, enjoy the nights together and not get too close to each other’s present, past or future. He should’ve listened to his gut the first morning together, when she’d insisted on not discussing the past. He should’ve known it meant that whatever cards she was hiding would be difficult for him to accept, and that this would only end in disaster when he finally showed his own cards.

  And he’d just had to wait to play his hand until he’d gotten more attached to her than he had any business doing. Now…what a mess. One day, they were insatiably hot for each other. The next, they couldn’t get far enough apart.

  Wasn’t it just poetic too? He’d fucked up his life to the point most women balked at the idea of a relationship with him, and now he was getting the side-eye and the no, thank you from a woman who’d willfully and repeatedly torpedoed her own marriage.

  Though, to be fair, he didn’t have much of a moral advantage here. The convicted felon versus the serial adulterer—not much high ground on either side. Two completely different sins, both fucked up in their own ways, and in no position to judge each other.

  The worst part was realizing how close he’d come to making another confession. When they’d played that little game earlier in the evening, it had been on the tip of his tongue, but he’d held back. He’d pulled her close, made love to her, and let his confession go unspoken, and now he didn’t know if that was a mistake or not.

  They’d agreed not to go there. Not to take this deeper than sex and maybe friendship. But some things were out of his hands. Despite his best effort, some things—some emotions—simply were.

  Shane couldn’t change the fact that he was a convicted felon.

  Alyssa couldn’t change the fact that her son was the product of an affair.

  And, goddammit, he couldn’t change the fact that he was in love with her.

  Chapter Nineteen

  She’d heard that time healed all wounds, but a week after she’d thrown Shane out, Alyssa didn’t feel any better. A week wasn’t much time, of course, but she felt worse with each passing day. After another week, she felt even worse.

  The feeling of shame after someone found out—and freaked out—about her past didn’t usually last long. A few days of that skin-crawly queasiness where she just wanted to hide under the comforter and die, and then she shook it off and returned to real life.

  Not this time.

  The guilt kept her up at night. The shame distracted her all day long. She hadn’t been a wreck like this since things had finally fallen apart between her, Grant, and her ex-husband.

  But whether she liked it or not, life had gone on after that debacle, and it would go on this time too. Eventually. Hopefully.

  Shaking herself, she returned to reality and wondered just how long she’d been standing here in her kitchen like an idiot. And why had she come in here in the first place?

  Come on, Alyssa. Get it together.

  She rubbed a hand over her face, and then glanced at her watch. It was just after six, which meant it was almost time to take her son to his father’s. Well, at least that gave her a purpose for the next hour or so. Something to do besides standing here between the sink and the island.

  She left the kitchen and went into Nate’s bedroom. He was sitting on the floor, happily playing with his plastic dinosaurs. He glanced up and smiled at her as if he had no clue there was anything off-kilter in the world. Good—the less he knew, the better.

  She smiled back. “We’re leaving for Dad’s in ten minutes.”

  “Okay.”

  She left him to his toys and went into her own bedroom to get her shoes. Hopefully he was as oblivious as he seemed. She’d been extra careful to keep all of this off his radar. It was her own damned fault she was in this stupid situation, and her own damned fault she felt like shit. He didn’t need to pick up on it.

  Which means not wandering into the kitchen and spacing out, idiot.

  Alyssa sighed and rubbed her eyes. She could do this. She could keep her shit together long enough to take him to Grant’s. Come hell or high water, she was going to protect him from this drama.

  Regardless of the circumstances surrounding his birth, she adored her son. None of it was his fault, and she’d never once resented his role in her marriage falling apart—that was a fault she shared with Grant and no one else. Nate was the one and only blessing from that debacle.

  Most of the time, she missed him terribly whenever he was at his father’s house. Sure, she’d loved the time she’d spent with Shane and looked forw
ard to those weeks, but part of her always missed the giggly little presence in the house.

  Tonight, though, she was looking forward to dropping him off. Putting on the Mom-is-happy-and-everything-is-okay face was exhausting, and she didn’t dare let him catch on that all wasn’t right in the grown-up world he was too young to understand.

  And tonight, she needed to drop the façade and let herself collapse.

  But first, she had to take Nate to Grant’s house. One more hour, and then she could drink or cry or have a pity party or whatever she was ultimately in the mood for. She’d been focusing so much on keeping her emotions out of Nate’s sight, she wasn’t even sure what she felt right now or what to do about it.

  After she’d gotten herself ready to go, she plastered on a smile and stepped into Nate’s bedroom doorway again. “You ready to go?”

  Nate nodded. “Yeah.” He got up, and she helped him get his shoes on. Then they gathered up his bag—he always took a few things back and forth when he switched houses—and headed out to the car.

  Nate climbed into his car seat, and after Alyssa had buckled him in, he started playing quietly again with a couple of toys he’d brought with him.

  She watched him in the rearview for a moment and smiled to herself. She and Grant had made a lot of mistakes in their lives, but at least she could say they weren’t doing too badly with their son. Either that, or they’d just been blessed with the most resilient, laidback kid on the planet.

  A half hour after leaving her place, Alyssa pulled into Grant’s driveway. She helped him out of the car, and reached for his backpack, but he beat her to it.

  “I’ve got it.”

  “Are you sure?”