Lie to Me

by Natasha Preston

  I shake my head as I reveal how stupid I was back then. "I stopped getting bank statements, but I'd only chucked them, unopened, in a pile anyway, so I didn't have a clue. Freya had been taking money over the course of six months, and then she left one day without a word. I was so worried at first. Her house was empty, and she and her mum had vanished."

  "Oh my God," she whispers, reaching out and taking my hand.

  "Yeah." I rub my thumb over her knuckles and breathe a little heavier at the way this simple touch is electrifying. "I couldn't work it out at first. I called everyone, trying to find out where she was. It was only a few days later that Dad mentioned money. I checked my bank, and that's when I knew."

  "I can't believe she did that to you. Do you think her mum made her?"

  "At first, yes, but then, through Max and Toby stalking her online, we found someone who had been burned by Freya, too."

  "I'm so sorry, Kent."

  "It's fine, babe. I started a business with a lot less, and it's a bigger success than I could have ever imagined."

  She dips her head in a nod. "So, you needed a big apartment to show you'd done well despite her."

  "It's stupid, I know, but it's what I needed."

  "You don't like it?" She arches her eyebrow.

  I hold my arms out, and she steps straight to me, no hesitation. "I do, but I don't see myself here long-term."

  "Why not? If I lived here, I would never go outdoors again."

  Don't tempt me.

  Smiling, she sinks into my embrace.

  I press my forehead against hers. "I love the space and everything else this apartment has to offer, but this isn't where I'm supposed to settle down and start a family."

  "You want to live in the country." Her words are a statement rather than a question, something she knows after she's been at my parents'.

  "Yeah. I loved growing up with tons of outside space. Heidi, Brooke, and I would ride our bikes around our land almost every day. We'd camp out and build dens in summer and sledge in the winter. It was the perfect childhood."

  Savannah is a city girl, so I don't know how that fits with her, but I would love to take her away in the middle of miles of fields and see no one else for days.

  She purses her lips. "That actually does sound good."

  Damn, she's perfect.

  I can see it, too. I can see us in the future, living in the country, surrounded by greenery and children.

  Freya has been forgotten, and we're back to us. We've had the conversation, albeit brief, but then that woman doesn't deserve any more of our time.

  "Do you want a drink?" I ask before I propose she runs off with me.

  I need to cool it, or I'll scare her off. We're so new. I keep forgetting how new because I feel like I've known her my entire life.

  We still have so much to learn about each other. This could very quickly get out of hand.

  "I would love one. It turned out to be a very long day." Savannah follows me to the kitchen.

  "Why? What happened?"

  "We had a bride in. She'd heard about Heidi through one of Bobby's friends. I really feel for Heidi if this woman wants her to design her dress; she's definitely going to be a bridezilla."

  "You should leave there and come work for me," I say, taking a bottle of Savannah's favourite brand of tonic water out of the fridge to mix with the gin she likes.

  She eyes the bottle and smiles. "And what would I do if I were working for you?"

  "That sounds like a trick question," I reply, twisting the lid off the bottle and pouring her a large gin and tonic.

  "Thank you. I so need this. Isn't it illegal to pay for sex?"

  Smirking, I grab a beer. "What makes you think you would be working for me in the bedroom?"

  "I know you; that's why I think that."

  Laughing, I walk over to her and press my lips to hers. "Hi," I whisper.

  We forgot the greeting when she arrived, mesmerised and a bit scared by my apartment.

  Her eyes dance. "Hi."

  God, I love seeing her in my place. I don't want her to go home.

  Calm down again, Kent.

  "How was your day?" she asks. "Did you sort out the bad employee?"

  "He wasn't bad; it was just a misunderstanding--thankfully, because I would hate to fire someone."

  "You're a big softie really."

  I'm not, but I don't exactly relish the thought of cutting off someone's income.

  "Feel, babe," I say, pressing myself against her chest.

  She moves her arm, so I don't spill her drink, and she takes a heated breath.

  "You're always hard for me," she murmurs.

  "Even at the most inconvenient times."

  She pushes her breasts into my chest and looks up at me through her eyelashes. I grow impossibly hard.

  "I can help you out with that right now."

  "Oh, can you?"

  "Uh-huh ... if you want, that is?"

  "Your use of if is entertaining, babe."

  She closes her eyes and breathes, "Take me to bed, Kent."

  I don't have to be told twice. I take the gin glass, which I only bought a couple of days ago because I knew she liked it, and put it down on the counter along with my beer.

  Reaching out, I offer my hand. Savannah takes two small steps and places her hand in mine. I am so ready for this. It's been agony, not being inside her each time we've fooled around.

  The time wasn't right though. She had to know that I wasn't just after her body, especially since she'd told me she wasn't into casual about thirty thousand times.

  I lead her to the stairs, and neither of us speaks a word while we climb them and enter my bedroom. I turn and watch her, expecting her to say things about the size of my room and, particularly, my ginormous bed. A bed that I've never had anyone else in. But she doesn't.

  Her eyes burn into mine, and her chest rises and falls with quick, shallow breaths.

  "Savannah," I groan, closing the short distance and moulding my mouth to hers.

  She grips the back of my neck, pasting herself to my chest. This morning, her splint came off, so when we kiss, she's much grabbier. I fucking love it.

  I curl my arms tightly around her back and lift. Her legs wrap around my waist as I walk toward the bed. Her hot mouth doesn't leave mine the entire time. Soft lips move against mine with a desperate hunger I know all too well myself. Knowing that she wants me as badly as I want her makes me hard in the most excitingly painful way.

  I've had a lot of sex, but the way Savannah makes me feel is completely new. This is addictive, and I thought it would be scary--the intensity of my feelings for her--but it's not. I'm jumping into this headfirst without a shadow of a doubt.

  "I want you so bad," I murmur against her mouth.

  She whimpers as I lay her down, covering her body with my own. Her legs stay glued around my waist, like she's scared I'll run away.

  No fucking chance.

  I pull away, and she takes a deep breath. Her lips are beautifully swollen, and her grey eyes stare at me with so much passion, it sends a bolt of red-hot desire right down to my dick.

  Digging my fingers into the sheets on either side of her head, I bite out, "Clothes off now."

  She shimmies her jeans down with a smile and raises her eyebrow. "How are you going to fuck me while you're dressed?"

  Right. I need to be naked, too.

  I rip at my clothes like they're on fire and undress in two seconds flat even though I fumble to get my jeans over my feet. Savannah throws her bra onto the floor, and then there she is, in all her stunning, bare glory.

  I have never seen anything so beautiful before.

  She's got you by the balls.

  "You're perfect, Savannah."

  Pearly-white teeth bite down on her bottom lip. I don't know if a guy has knocked her confidence or if her rocky relationship with her parents means she never really had much, but I'm determined to build it with her.

  "You are," I press. "Reme
mber, never hide this body from me."

  With a gulp, she dips her chin in a shy nod of agreement. I'll take that for now. But I plan on telling her how incredible and beautiful she is on a daily basis until she believes it herself.

  I reach into my bedside table and grab a condom. I tear the foil packet so eagerly, it rips open in half, and the condom almost flies out. She watches me with heated eyes as I slide it into place.

  "Kent, please," she mutters, squirming under me. Her hands land on my forearms and sweep up to my shoulders. "You're still not inside me."

  Point taken.

  I lower my hips. She lets go and grips my condom-covered erection. I've never wished I didn't have to wear the goddamn rubber before. I want to feel her heat, her skin against mine.

  She squeezes my cock, and suddenly, I don't really care about the condom. Hissing through my teeth, I close my eyes and arch into her touch. She gently pumps me--I assume so that the condom doesn't move--and then guides me inside her.

  Her moan dies under the sound of my own as I enter her warmth.

  Jesus. Fucking hell.

  "Kent," she breathes, her fingernails cutting into my shoulders. It's the hottest thing that's ever happened to me.

  The thought of her drawing blood only spurs me on. I rear back and thrust into her hard and crash my mouth down on hers.

  My body is on fire, orgasm building at an alarming rate.

  I want to come, but I want to make this last for hours.

  No fucking chance of that with the way her tight little pussy is gripping my dick.

  "God, Savannah," I groan, pressing my forehead against hers. Hooded grey eyes stare up at me. "You feel amazing."

  "Don't stop," she pleads, her forehead creasing. "Kent, don't stop."

  "Wasn't planning to, babe. I could sink my cock deep inside you all day."

  She whimpers, eyes flitting closed. "I want that. God, I feel you everywhere. Please just ..."

  Just what?

  "I'm so close, Kent. I'm going to come."

  She arches her back, and I slam into her harder with a desperation that shocks me. Moulding my mouth to hers, I kiss her with a burning desperation to be as close as possible.

  She's too much. My dick is about to fucking explode.

  Fuck.

  Savannah wraps me in a death grip with her legs, and her nails cut deeper. I lose it. With a growl, I'm coming so hard, my mouth leaves hers, and a long groan rips from my throat.

  In my haze, I hear her calling my name as she contracts around my dick, milking every last drop of come.

  I drop my forehead to hers, panting. Her eyes are closed, and she has the most stunning smile on her face, her cheeks tinted pink.

  Perfect.

  I could get used to this. I'm not letting her go, not ever.

  Well, I might let her get up in the morning because she has work. But, metaphorically, she's never going anywhere.

  21

  Savannah

  It's been a week since Kent and I had sex. Since that first time, we've barely left the bedroom. I can't get enough, he can't get enough, and there's absolutely no reason we both shouldn't go at it every time we're alone.

  And I love it because I'm finally experiencing good sex. Like, mind-blowingly good sex. It's not just all the orgasms I'm loving either; it's being so close to him, having him all around me, inside me.

  My splint was removed last week, too, so that's made exploring Kent's body and holding on for dear life much easier.

  I'm walking home late from work because I've had a sea of messages to reply to on my the business' Facebook profile since Heidi ran a giveaway. We've had thousands of new likes, and while that's fantastic, it means a lot of extra work to get through the messages and comments.

  The city is still buzzing with activity as people make their way home, but the closer to home I get, there are fewer people around. Kent lives right in the centre, where I always wanted to be but couldn't afford. Now, it seems a bit too busy for me.

  I pull my leather jacket around my chest as the temperature drops. The days are still nice, but after six p.m., it gets much cooler.

  A small crowd of people burst out of an office building across the road. My eye catches the profile of a man, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand.

  Simon?

  My steps falter, the sight of him sending my mind spinning.

  A guy behind me gasps and then spits, "Watch it," as he moves around me.

  I'm still, almost causing people to crash into me.

  "Sorry," I mutter halfheartedly as I sidestep to the curb.

  I try to look around people to the other side of the road, but there's now too many to see properly. The man sure looked like Simon. Same short, light hair, same slightly lanky build. But he wouldn't have been in an office building.

  It couldn't have been him. Still, I watch with my heart in my mouth as the crowd starts to disperse, people going in different directions to home.

  Where are you?

  More people tut as they have to avoid me, but I don't care. My eyes scan both sides of the path, left to right and past the office doors. I can't see him.

  Because you're paranoid, and it wasn't him.

  I let out a breath. This is stupid.

  Turning again, I hurry home, feeling like a bit of a nutjob for seeing my ex in strangers. Simon wouldn't be here, watching me. He might be a bit desperate to get me back or explain his actions away, but it would look even worse on his part if he'd taken up stalking, too.

  I key in the code on the door and let myself into my building. Once the door clicks shut behind me, I sag my shoulders in relief of being off the street. Climbing the stairs, I take one last look back. No one is at the door.

  Kent is out tonight, so I'm home alone for the first time since we got together. It's going to be weird, but I suppose we need to spend some time apart. He might get bored if I'm with him constantly.

  As much as I was up for him spending time with his friends, my nerves are now raging, and I could really do with him holding me. He can make me relax with just a look.

  But I can't rely solely on Kent for that; it's unhealthy. So, I let myself into my flat and lock the door. I'm okay here. This is home. It's my escape.

  Kicking off my shoes, I move deeper into the living area. The first thing I'm going to do is get changed into something cosy and comfortable. Since I'm not seeing Kent or anyone else tonight, I don't have to look presentable. I'm not quite at the point in our relationship that I want him to know how much of a slob I am when I'm home. I don't think I usually wear normal clothes indoors for longer than it takes for me to walk to my bedroom and get changed.

  I've missed my favourite pair of joggers and oversize T-shirt.

  After the incident out in the street, I know I have to deal with Simon. That might not have been him, but that doesn't mean he can't show up again. And he could show somewhere Kent is.

  Simon has been messaging again, every day, asking to meet, demanding to meet. Right now, I need to sort out dinner though, which is going to be Chinese, and pour a very large gin and tonic.

  I take off the skirt I was wearing for work and tug my sleeveless shirt over my head. I fling my bra and sigh as it hits the floor. My favourite time of the day has to be when I remove that thing.

  When I'm changed, I call the Chinese restaurant and place my order.

  It's strange to be home alone. Even though I've not been with Kent long, we've spent almost all of our free time together. I have very quickly gotten used to him being around. I love it.

  Hanging up the phone, I pour my gin and tonic and then sit down on the sofa. My apartment is quiet. It's too early to hear people in the street heading out for the evening, but most people have already gone home. It's a rare, calm parcel of time in the city when everything is still.

  As much as I love the hustle and bustle of city life, I love the peace, too. I'm beginning to think I love the peace more than the busy.

  I'm so used to be
ing alone now. I've grown accustomed to my own company.

  Being alone is something I used to fear. Maybe that's why I stayed with Simon for so long even though we had been drifting apart. I planned a life with him, but deep down, I knew it wasn't right. We weren't as in love as some of my friends and never had been. If I had been honest with myself about that at the time, my world wouldn't have fallen apart months later. Simon must have felt the same, only he decided to move on before he ended things with me.

  Wanker.

  His number is on my phone from his last call, but I refuse to save it to my Contacts. It's not like I don't know it anyway. When I was a teenager, I adored the fact that I'd memorised his number, but now, I wish my brain would forget it.

  His first few texts after I told him to wait for my lead were reserved, even a little off. Every single one was the same.

  Simon: MEET ME, SAV.

  For two days, he sent those same three words fifteen times. Creepy. But, since then, after me not replying, they've been desperate. Like his last one, which I received this morning.

  Simon: FUCKING GIVE ME A CHANCE.

  I assume he means a chance to explain why he's such a massive knobhead because him asking for another chance with me is too gross to imagine.

  My finger hovers over the call button. I should really eat first. I need to be calm enough to have a conversation with him rather than shout, so I can get through to him. If I'm hangry, that's not going to happen.

  I don't know why he's suddenly popped up now--whether it's just taken this long to find me or if something happened, so he's come for me now. It has just been the anniversary but not the first one, so it must be more than that.

  There are so many possibilities, but surely, if something bad happened with my family, my mum or dad would be the one contacting me.

  Not that I expect anything from them anymore. Especially not my dad.

  The air in my little apartment shifts, darkening like a storm, and it feeds the anger burning in my stomach.

  Screw waiting. I need this over with.

  I tap the button and put the call on speakerphone. I'll probably chuck it if he pisses me off, so it's best not to be holding it.

  "Sav?" he whispers. In the background, I hear a door being opened and closed. "Are you there?" His voice is now louder.

  "I'm here. Start talking," I snap. The sound of his voice makes me want to punch something.

  "I'm glad you called."

  I hear the smile in his voice and cringe.

  "What do you want, Simon?"