Kiss, Don't Tell (Devils in Disguise Book 1)

by Holly Hart

  I hear a click to my left as my one-time adversary disappears into his apartment, tail between his legs.

  “It’s two in the morning…” Kim says. She sounds more confused than worried. It’s like she doesn’t know why a man would turn up at her door at this time of the morning. I want her to let me show her.

  I grip hold of either side of the doorway, and my shoulders bulge. I’d bet any money she’s looking at me through the peephole. “Open the door, Kim.”

  “Nate, this is crazy. Come back –”

  “No,” I growl. “I’m not waiting. I don’t know what the hell you think I did, Kim, but I didn’t do it, all right? So come out here and look me in the eye, and tell me if you think I’m lying.”

  I am, I don’t say, just not about that.

  There’s a long pause. I imagine what the graying man is doing right now. He’s probably listening with his ear glued to a water glass pressed against his front door. I don’t give a crap.

  “Nate…”

  “Do it, Kim.”

  Kim does as I tell her. Her door clicks open again and I have to hide a smile. I was right. She’s wearing goddamn Minnie Mouse pajamas.

  Her hair is messy, like pine needles carried on the breeze, and she’s craning her neck so I don’t see her head on. I bet she’s worried about morning breath. That’s cute.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Let me take you out,” I say.

  Kim goes crimson. She’s still avoiding my gaze. It’s like she’s worried that if she looks at me, I’ll trick her into doing something she would rather not. That’s crazy – she’s the drug, not me.

  “Take me out? Out where?”

  “For dinner, on a date,” I shoot back, answering both questions in one.

  Kim crosses her arms over her chest. She thinks she’s hiding it from me, but she’s not. All she’s done is push up those ample breasts. God, I want to bury myself in them.

  “You don’t remember me at all, do you?” Kim says. I shrug, helpless.

  She’s right, I don’t.

  “You sent me a letter,” Kim says, frowning. A fire crackles in her eyes, brighter even than her flaming hair. “Do you remember that?”

  She’s eyeing me up carefully, and if looks could kill, hers would be burning me up. Still, it’s all I can do not to double over. A chuckle escapes my lips. She glares at me.

  “The hell I did!” I grin. “I could barely write in high school.”

  That’s not true, but I never needed to. I sure as hell wasn’t writing high school chicks love letters, or whatever Kim thinks I did. She looks away from me. I bite my lip, and make a decision.

  I reach out and gently caress her chin with my thumb and forefinger.

  “Look at me, Kim,” I say. She fights me, but doesn’t pull away.

  I stare directly into those sky-blue eyes of hers. She doesn’t know what she’s got, this girl. “Tell me if I’m lying.”

  I wait her out. She stares accusingly at me, as if she wants to find proof of my supposed crimes. I don’t know what happened to her, but I want to make it better. If she allows me to, I will.

  Her head shakes with frustration.

  “You can’t, can you?” I say, wiping any trace of a grin from my face. I can’t risk her thinking I’m making fun of her, not now. “It’s because I didn’t do it; whatever “it” is.”

  Kim looks up into my eyes, and I see something shift in her expression. It’s softer, wondering.

  Hopeful?

  “Tell you what,” I say in a hushed tone, so that she has to lean forward to hear me. “You can tell me all about it tomorrow: Madison’s, by St. Paul’s Cathedral. You know where it is?”

  She tries to shake her head, but I stop her. I lean forward and graze her cheek with my lips. “Eight PM,” I whisper. “Don’t leave me hanging.”

  10

  Kim

  “Jesus Christ, Kim,” Frankie shrieks, her voice tinny through my laptop’s weak speakers. “Give a girl some warning!”

  Frankie reaches forward at her desk and her face partly disappears. I guess she’s lowered the screen or something. I can see how that makes sense. She’s just arrived at work back home, but here, I’m done for the day. ,

  I glance downward, only now realizing that my body – barely concealed by a plain black pair of panties, and a similar bra – would be on display. My brain has been foggy from the moment my alarm buzzed. I hardly did a lick of work at all today, because, I was so stressed about going out tonight.

  “I’m sorry,” I mutter, staring at the pile of discarded clothes on my bed and chewing my lip. “I forgot to give you a heads up. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “No, you idiot: I’m not talking about you prancing around in your underwear. I mean – you can’t tell me you’re planning to wear that?”

  I look down at my body. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I shoot back.

  Frankie leans forward and squints. “Damn girl, you been working out?”

  “Stop messing around!”

  “I’m not joking,” she says, raising her eyebrows. She looks impressed. “You look good, Kim: really good. Someone’s going to be very happy later on … at least until he sees you in that mess.”

  My cheeks are burning. I feel like all my embarrassing geekiness is pouring out.

  “You look like my grandma,” Frankie points out. “And Mary’s been dead over a decade, God rest her soul. Come on, this is Nate… You should wear something special. Something to get him excited…”

  “No way,” I fire back, shaking my head. “I told you already, I am not sleeping with him. I’m only even going out with him to figure the truth about whether he –”

  “Sure,” Frankie grins, cutting me off. “You’re just waiting for the right guy,” she says, mimicking me. “Just watch out. If you wait too long, you will dry up down there…”

  I pour myself a glass of wine: a big one. I knew Frankie would be like this so I came prepared. I am not rising to bait that obvious.

  “Jealous…” She groans. Then she pauses, peering at her screen, squinting. “Is that a little tuft of fire I see poking out of your…” Frankie says, her face lighting up as she points at her screen.

  I jam my legs together, covering my crotch with my hands. I can feel my cheeks burning. “It is not!”

  Frankie paints an innocent expression on her face. “Oh? Did you get yourself, you know, seen to down there?”

  My face lights up a darker shade of red. I walked into that one.

  “You did!” Frankie exclaims, throwing her hands in the air with the light. “Oh. My. God. You are so sleeping with him tonight!”

  “I’ll hang up!” I warn her. The last thing I want to talk about is how much darn pain that evil wax caused me. And I sure as hell don’t want to confront the truth in what she’s saying.

  “Okay, okay,” she replies, holding her palms face up to the camera in surrender. “I give in. You tell yourself what you want to believe, how’s that?”

  I squint at the camera. “Shut up. Shouldn’t you be working, anyway?”

  “You know what these guys are like,” she fires back happily; “they don’t bother turning up until 10 AM anyway. Trust me; we’ve got all the time in the world. So …” She claps her hands together. “Outfits! What have you got?”

  ***

  Horse spit, my little black dress keeps hitching up above my thigh. I knew I shouldn’t have let Frankie talk me into wearing it. I feel ridiculous, like a fraud. It’s like someone else is wearing my body. Nate’s going to see through what I’m wearing like the costume it is.

  It’s a chilly late-fall evening, and the second I step out of the cab, my nipples go rock hard. I can’t tell whether it’s from anticipation, or just the icy breeze that just hit me.

  It’s probably the wind.

  It’s not hard to tell which way to go. A chattering line of people huddles behind a rope barrier, and two huge security men stand at the door to keep the well-d
ressed socialites in check. I gulp.

  This place is way too upper class for me. I’m more of a Netflix and chill out kind of girl, honestly. I pull my coat tightly around my shoulders, glance around for any sign of my – is it a date – of Nate, and step to the back of the queue.

  “You look,” a man whispers into my ear, while looping his arm around my body, and spinning me to face him, “unbelievable.”

  It’s Nate: of course, it would be. My mouth has gone all dry. He likes it. Frankie said he would.

  “I –,” I stammer, swallowing hard. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

  It’s the truth. There’s a reason I don’t go on many dates. I have this fear – I always have – that I’m going to be left like a bride at the altar. I fear everyone is going to laugh at me. It’s stupid. I know it is. But it’s real.

  Nate pulls me into him, and envelops me in his warmth. I close my eyes and take a deep, long breath in. He smells delicious.

  “I would not miss this for the world,” Nate says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. He takes me by the hand and jerks his head. “Come on…”

  “I thought we were going upstairs?” I gasp, as he tugs me along behind him.

  Nate turns his head and smiles at me, and I almost pass out. “We are; we’re just not waiting.”

  He pulls me to the front of the queue, and I can feel thirty pairs of eyes drilling holes in the back of my head. I can almost hear the jealous whispers coming from the crowd. But, you know what? It makes me feel good. I’ve never had the gorgeous guy before, or skipped a line. I think, though, why shouldn’t I?

  I still don’t think that any of this will last the next few minutes, let alone the night. I have a horrible feeling that Nate is just playing me. Guys like him: they do not end up with girls like me. The world doesn’t change that much after high school.

  But while it lasts, I’m going to make the most of it.

  Nate nods at the doorman, and he lets us in to the elevator – alone.

  Very uncomfortably alone.

  I close my eyes and a vision of Nate pressing his muscular, taut body against mine fills my mind. I can feel his bulge pressing against my thigh, his hands roaming my ass. I can feel the heat of his breath tickling my throat. It’s as real as if his mouth was just inches from my neck.

  “How often do you do this?” I croak, suspiciously narrowing my eyes. I am asking anything to tear my mind away from the fantasies flooding through it.

  I have a feeling that I’m not the first girl he has brought here.

  Does that bother you?

  The truth is, I’m not sure anymore. Nate’s so calm, so direct. He knows what he wants, and he’s willing to do anything to get it. I like that. The only boys I’ve ever played with in the past were driven by hormones: fast, aggressive, just rough fumbles in the dark.

  This is different. Nate’s not aggressive or demanding. He’s just confident. This chemistry he’s building, it’s starting to carry me along. I feel like I’m standing at the very edge of the sea, his desire licking like the smallest waves at my ankles. I can see a bigger swell offshore, lurking.

  “Do what?” He grins, cocking his head to one side. His face is a picture of innocence. That blonde hair helps.

  “This,” I insist. “Bring girls here.”

  “Would you believe me if I said you were the first?” Nate asks.

  The elevator chimes, and before I get a chance to study his face, to pick over it for any hint that he’s lying to me, he grabs my hand and pulls me out onto the most magnificent balcony I have ever seen.

  It’s not the balcony itself that takes my breath away. It’s the view.

  The dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral dominates the skyline. It’s lit up, and it glows against a rich, orange sunset. My mouth forms a perfect O of astonishment.

  “You like it?” Nate says in a hushed voice.

  “I’m not falling for this,” I reply.

  I wince the second the words come out of my mouth. Why the hell am I being so aggressive towards him? I know it already – no one has to tell me – I’m being a bitch. Nate’s done nothing to suggest that he’s the guy I thought he was for all those years.

  I’m nervous, and it’s coming off as rude. The truth is, Nate scares me. He’s got more experience at this in his little fingernail than I have in my entire body. I’m like a beginner surfer, out too far on a wave that’s far too big. One wrong move, and I could …

  “There’s nothing to fall for,” Nate says, as if he can read my mind. He gives a little shrug to indicate he’s not offended.

  He’s wrong. There is. It’s him.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” He squeezes my hand and stares directly into my eyes. My cheeks heat up. I feel my pulse quicken, and my breath become ragged in my chest. When he looks at me, I don’t dare look away. I’m not sure that I could, even if I tried. He has a spell on me.

  “I’m just –,” I babble. He cuts me off.

  “I said, don’t be. I promise; I’ve never brought anyone else here. Do you believe me?”

  I stare into his ice-gray eyes, and I do.

  Unequivocally.

  There is nothing in his face that screams he is lying to me. I know what’s happening – I know what’s affecting me. It’s like a teenage infatuation, except I never let myself have those; so now it’s hitting me at twenty-five.

  Twenty-five: and still a virgin.

  “Shall we get a drink?” I squeak, dodging the question. I’m glad it’s getting dark up here, because my cheeks are painted red.

  Nate grins. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  You can take me anyway you like.

  Where the hell did that come from? I’d flush, but I don’t think that my cheeks can take any more punishment.

  He pulls me along behind him, and my heels clack against the stone floor. I feel like I’m stuck between two halves of my own brain. One part is urging me to throw caution to the wind, to let Nate jump me, to throw myself into this new life in London.

  What is the other part?

  That’s the old, nervous Kim: the one rearing her ugly head right now. The one who doesn’t believe she deserves to be here.

  Nate hands me a glass of champagne, and I take a nervous sip. And then another. I know I shouldn’t. I barely drink, but I need to calm my nerves. The bubbles tickle my nose, and it’s all I can do not to sneeze.

  “Thank you.” What am I supposed to do here? Speak? I’m a paralyzed bundle of nerves. I am nervously buzzing in my own skin. Although, I guess, that’s nothing new.

  Nate leans against a railing, and the wind flaps at his hair. He looks like a perfect cover model, like he should be a romance novel hero, not a part of real life. Not here. Not with me.

  “Sooo,” he grins, stretching out the word until my stomach does a backflip. I think I’ve got a good idea of what he’s about to ask. “Tell me; exactly what was in this letter I sent you, Kim?”

  I open my mouth to speak, but the shocking awkwardness of the situation hits home. What am I supposed to say? Anything that spills out of my mouth is only going to make me look even more of a nerd than I already do.

  “Was it something naughty?” He asks with a cocky grin stretching across his perfect mouth. “I think if I was going to write something, it would be naughty.”

  “Forget I ever –”

  “I don’t want to,” Nate interrupts. “I’m having a good time. It’s like a,” he pauses, “mystery game. I very much want to play.”

  I finish my glass of champagne, ignoring the bubbles this time, and hold it out for a refill with a challenging glare. Nate obliges. Half of me wants to run away, but the other half…

  It’s excited to hear what he’ll say. Besides, the longer he indulges his fantasy, the less he’ll want the truth.

  I see the light flashing in Nate’s eyes as he gears up to test me. He licks his lips, and I know that whatever he’s dreamt up, he wants me to hear it.

  But I�
��m saved by the bell.

  Or, rather, as in this case, the waiter.

  “Your table is ready, sir, madam,” he says in a stuffy British accent, turning to each of us in turn. “Please, follow me.”

  We trail behind him, just out of earshot, and I decide to get my own back.

  “It’s a bit, traditional, isn’t it?” I say, stretching each word out to needle him a little more, “a sit down dinner?”