It Started with a Lie (Truth and Lies Duet Book 1)

by Lisa Suzanne

  “Wait a minute,” Becker says. “You what?”

  I clear my throat. “I signed over eleven of my twenty percent to my brother.”

  “So you have nine percent.” Becker’s voice is flat.

  I nod.

  “Let me get this straight,” Becker says. Now that the silence is broken, he’s on a rampage. “The three of us moved seventeen hundred miles across the country to start a business we own together and we don’t even technically own it together anymore because someone else owns fifty-one percent?”

  I rub the back of my neck nervously. “That about sums it up.”

  Becker runs a hand along his jaw as he struggles to control his emotions. “Look, Jill wants to get home, and I do, too. We’ll talk at the office on Monday.” With that, he turns to go back to his wife, and I don’t bother to stop him. He’ll cool down over the weekend and when clear heads prevail, we’ll be okay on Monday.

  “I actually want to talk to you about something else,” I say now that I’ve got Jason alone. He quirks a brow, and I charge forward. “I just want to be completely transparent and honest with you.”

  “Okay,” he says slowly, drawing out the a sound in the word.

  Just as I clear my throat to make my confession, Tess walks out the doors of the ballroom. She stalks over toward us. “Did you tell him?” she asks, her voice an accusation.

  “Tell me what?” Jason asks.

  Tess sighs then glares at me like this was my job to do and why the hell haven’t I done it yet. “Jason, I don’t know what’s starting up between the two of us again, but I like it. On that note, you know it’s basically in my nature to fuck up relationships, so before we really get off the ground and get into something serious, I need you to know something.”

  “What?” Jason asks. He looks wildly between the two of us, and I watch as the lightbulb goes on. “Oh, no. Oh, fuck. The two of you?” He says it to Tess more than to me.

  Tess nods.

  “It only happened a few times,” I say.

  “When?” Jason grits out.

  Tess looks uncomfortable. “Beck and Jill’s wedding was the first time.”

  “And the second?” he asks.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I interject before Tess starts talking about how Viv walked in on the two of us in my office or the time we went out on a double date with Jason and Vivian before the two of us fucked like drunk bunnies afterward. “What matters is it’s completely over. Right Tess?”

  “Right,” she says. “I told him when he was in Miami that we couldn’t keep doing this.”

  Fuck. I put a hand to my forehead like that facepalm emoji. I can’t believe she just said that.

  “Wait. Miami?” Jason’s eyes dart over to me. “Weren’t you just there last week?”

  I press my lips together and nod, but I don’t say anything.

  “You two were still fucking last week?” His voice is rising.

  “Jason, calm down,” Tess says. “No. I think two or three weeks ago was the last time.”

  “But after the two of us started seeing each other again,” he says flatly.

  She nods. “I’m sorry. I just wanted you to know. Everything on the table, right?” she says softly, as if they are words they’ve spoken to each other before.

  “Right,” he says.

  “Brian, will you excuse us?” she asks. She laces an arm around his waist as she looks at me, and I want the two of them to work this out, so I give them the space they need even though I’d rather stand here and take Jason’s full reaction.

  I walk back into the ballroom and spot Vivian as she sits alone at the table. A few clients sit across from her, and Becker and Jill are approaching me as I stand by the exit. Everyone is focused on the stage and the announcement of the auction winners, so it looks like I haven’t missed much.

  I wait until the two of them are within earshot, and then I say to Becker, “See you Monday.”

  He presses his lips together without a response, and I stand for a minute as I try to gather the strength to make one more confession tonight.

  chapter thirty-eight

  I slide into the chair next to Vivian and stare straight ahead. I don’t really know what the repercussions are of my big confessions. Becker walked away and Tess shooed me away. I know I’ll dread Monday from here to there, but there’s not much more I can do than let my friends process what I just told them.

  “You did it?” Vivian whispers beside me.

  “It’s done,” I whisper back.

  “All of it?” she asks.

  I nod.

  “Quick and painless?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “As much as ripping off a bandage that’s been glued to your skin for a decade.”

  “What did they say?” she asks. We’re both looking at the stage and pretending to pay attention as we whisper.

  “Nothing. Becker walked away and said he’d talk to me on Monday. Tess came out just as I was about to tell Jason about the two of us and she blurted what happened then told me to get lost.”

  “No fallout?” she asks, brows raised in surprise.

  I shrug. “Not yet.”

  She sets her hand on my arm, and it marks the first time she’s willingly touched me without being high on sedatives. “I’m proud of you, Brian.”

  I glance over at her, but it’s more than a glance once our eyes lock. I see admiration and something more there, something I want to identify but can’t, not yet. Maybe it’s just something I want to see.

  I set my hand over hers. “I have another confession to make tonight.”

  She raises a brow and squeezes my arm before gently tugging her hand away. She goes right for her wineglass, which doesn’t surprise me. “Such as?” she asks as she hovers the glass next to her mouth.

  “We’ll talk at home.”

  Home.

  I used to call it my place or the house or something of the like. But now that she’s staying there with me, it’s become something of a home for the two of us even if we aren’t exactly living in it that way. For now.

  She tips her glass back and finishes most of what’s in there, and then she looks at me with twinkling eyes. “Intriguing,” she says. She doesn’t even know the half of it.

  Since Beck and Jason took their dates home early, I’m left as the lone representative of FDB. I have a few more people to talk to, so I take Viv back to the bar after the auction as I’m plagued with a question. I blurt it out before I can stop myself. “Why are you still here with me?” She isn’t obligated to be here now that the truth is out.

  She lifts a delicate shoulder. “I guess because we showed up together. Maybe you were honest with your friends, but the public and the press don’t have to know yet. Besides, you ditched me the last time at one of these, so I know what it feels like.”

  My chest burns with love for her combined with guilt over the things I once did to her. I’m honored she’s here with me tonight, even more that she’d protect me and look out for me that way. “I appreciate that more than you know,” I say.

  “Now get me tipsy so I can get through the rest of this night.”

  I laugh at her words because they’re so out of character, and then I proceed to do what the lady asked me to do.

  It only takes one more glass before she loosens up and wants to dance during an upbeat Bruno Mars song.

  And it only takes one second of holding her in my arms on the dance floor after the song switches to something slower to know beyond a shadow of a doubt we belong together.

  The song talks about two people being meant for each other, and her eyes flick up to mine. As I look down at her, my heart squeezes. Every part of me wants to tangle my hands in her hair and brutalize her mouth with mine. It takes reminding myself we’re in public not to do that.

  But time passes along as it always does, and once the party’s over and we’ve traveled safely home, we stand in my kitchen squaring off against one another. I rack my brain for some way to recapture the i
ntimacy from the look that passed between two people on a dance floor, but I come up short.

  She opens her mouth, surely to say goodnight, when I blurt, “Nightcap?”

  “Uh,” she stammers nervously. “Oh—okay.”

  I find a bottle of pinot noir in my wine cooler, and I pour myself a glass of whiskey after I’ve handed her the wine. She takes her shoes off and sets them near the hallway leading toward the guest room then wanders into my football room set just off the kitchen. She settles on the couch—an interesting choice considering the single-seat recliners in there. I take it as an invitation and settle in next to her. She shifts to get comfortable then massages one foot with her palm.

  “Those shoes did me in tonight,” she says, shooting a glare at the shoes from across the room.

  I set my whiskey on the end table beside me. “May I?” I ask, reaching for her foot. I apply pressure with my thumbs to her arch, and she leans her head back and moans. I glance up at her, and my dick seems to get somehow harder.

  “Oh my God, that feels so good.” Her voice is breathy and soft, and she sips her wine then closes her eyes.

  “Vivian, I told you back at the ball I had another confession to make tonight, and I’d like to say it now before I lose my nerve.”

  “Mm,” comes her soft reply. I take it as my affirmation to charge forward.

  “I’ve fallen in love with you.”

  Her eyes pop wide open. “You...you what?” she stutters, sitting bolt upright and spilling her wine clear down the front of her dress in the process.

  “Oh shit,” I say, and I run to the kitchen to grab a towel. I toss it to her and grab another towel. I run that one under some water.

  “It’s okay,” she says. I wring the wet towel out in the sink. “The dress is the same color as the wine. You what?”

  “The couch!” I yell. “Get the couch. The wine will ruin the leather.”

  She’s mopping the wine from the couch when I return with the damp towel. I swipe it over the leather, which is mostly dry. Her dress took the brunt of it. I take the wine glass out of her hand and set it on the table, and then I kneel in front of her legs and gently swipe at the fabric of her dress with the damp towel as I fight her rose-scented aphrodisia.

  “I can get it,” she says softly.

  “I know you can,” I say, continuing to work despite her meager efforts to stop me. It’s doing nothing to save her dress, but at least, as she pointed out, it’s the same color.

  She finally halts me when she grabs my wrist. I stop scrubbing. I look up at her, and I know I’m not mistaken this time.

  Her eyes are filled with lust.

  “You should really take that off and soak it in some water,” I say quietly. I glance down at the hem and finger it with my free hand.

  I glance up again, and her bottom lip is snagged between her teeth.

  “Take it off, then,” she says.

  I raise both brows. “Me?”

  She nods slowly, and I rise to my knees and move between her legs.

  “What changed?” I whisper.

  “I did.”

  “But why is this okay when you’ve been telling me no?” I’m not sure why I’m asking. I should just go for it. She’s giving me permission, handing herself over. But I only want this if she’s positive she does, too.

  “Because I want you, Brian, and I’m so tired of fighting.”

  “How much have you had to drink?” I ask. I can’t help but wonder why all of the sudden this is okay when she’s been adamant this could never happen between us.

  “Shut up,” she says, placing both of her palms on my cheeks and inching forward until her lips touch mine.

  I drop the towel somewhere on the floor, my mouth never leaving hers. How could I when she’s finally giving me everything I’ve craved since the moment I figured out it wasn’t hate I was feeling for her?

  I sweep a hand along one of her thighs as the other comes around her waist to pull her closer to me. Her hands stay on my face for a beat as she opens her mouth to mine, her hunger for me evident from the way she brutalizes my lips the same way I’ve wanted to do to hers for weeks. Her cool hands breathe life into my skin as they run along the stubble of my jaw before settling on my shoulders. I half expect her to push me away, but she doesn’t. Instead, her hands move over my shoulders before they link around my neck.

  I take the opportunity to hook my arm under both her legs to literally sweep her off her feet. I pick her up easily into my arms and break from her long enough to ask one very important question.

  “Are you sure about this?” I nip at her neck, and her scent overwhelms me with desire.

  “Am I sure I want you to shut up?” she asks with a twinkle in her lust-filled eyes. “Yes,” she says before I have a chance to answer.

  I laugh and nuzzle her neck, drinking in the roses as my chest tightens with an erotic craving for her. I carry her to my bedroom and set her on the floor. With one sweep of my hands, I pull her dress over her head.

  I clutch it in my fingertips for a beat as I stare at her before me in her simple black bra and matching panties. I’ve seen all sorts of women wearing all shades of expensive lingerie, in various stages of undress, even completely naked.

  Not one of them even comes close to comparing to the beautiful creature standing before me.

  She runs a hand along her flat stomach nervously as she looks at me. “What?” she asks. She typically oozes poise in her professional wear, but as she stands nearly naked in my bedroom, it’s like the confidence came off with her dress.

  I clear my throat as I realize it’s my job to give her that assurance back.

  “Wait here,” I say, and I take the dress with me. I need a minute to calm my dick down, because just looking at her and loving her so much has weaved a tangle of nerves in my chest and an aching throb in my balls.

  I set the dress in my sink and run some water over it to prevent the wine from staining it while I take a deep breath and give myself a pep talk.

  I can do this, and I can make it last more than thirty seconds.

  God, it’s been so fucking long since I’ve had sex.

  I want her so much. So much, so deeply.

  I grab a condom from the drawer where I keep my stash. I set my suit jacket on the counter and kick off my shoes while I pull off my tie, and then I return to the bedroom.

  She’s sitting on the bed when I walk in, perched right on the end like she might change her mind and bolt at any second.

  “Before the wine spilled, I told you I’ve fallen in love with you. It’s true, Vivian. I thought it was something else at first, but God, I can’t imagine living another second without tasting your skin and holding your body and kissing your mouth. You’re gorgeous on the outside, but you were made for me on the inside.”

  She opens her mouth to say something back, most likely some witty remark or some biting insult, but I swallow it up when my mouth crashes down to hers.

  Tonight marks only the third time I’ve gotten to kiss her like this. As I gently push her back onto my mattress and hover over her, I know this won’t be the last time. I feel it back from her, and I kiss her with all the reverence and love I’ve bottled up for too long.

  I lean most of my weight on one arm as I let my body lightly mold to hers. I run my hand along her thigh, to her stomach, along her bra-clad breast, and up into her hair. She moans into me, and I take it as a signal. I thrust my hips against hers once, and when I’m rewarded with another moan, I buck against her again.

  I trail my lips to her neck, memorizing the sweet taste of her skin along the way, committing the silkiness of her skin beneath my fingertips to memory so I can call it up any time I please.

  I reach into her bra and pull her breast over the cup. I swipe my thumb across her nipple until I see it pebble beneath my touch, and then I can’t help myself. I lower my mouth for a taste, and I have so much pent-up desire for her I feel like I’m about to come everywhere and I haven’t even dippe
d inside of her.

  Yet.

  I suck her breast into my mouth and swirl my tongue around her nipple. I pull her other breast out and lavish it with the same attention, and then I lift her up to unhook her bra. Her quiet kitten moans push me into dangerous territory and I’m afraid I can’t hold myself off any longer.

  The bra ends up somewhere behind me, and then she reaches for the buttons of my shirt. She unbuttons them one by one, a slow process as I watch her nimble fingers work. I’m about to tear it off to speed up the process when she finally gets to the last one and pushes my shirt off my shoulders. She gasps at the sight of my abdomen mere inches from her face, and I’m thankful for the hours I’ve put in at the gym when I haven’t been working or scheming.

  She trails her fingertips along the muscles there as I watch her with bated breath, and then her hand dips lower to grasp my cock.

  “Jesus,” I say as I let out a low hiss. Her hand feels like a slice of fucking heaven and she’s still on the outside of my pants.

  I reach down and unbutton them, and then she dips her fingers in. They brush against me, and the steel hardens into titanium. I need to be inside her with an intense craving. When I look up at her face as she concentrates on what’s inside my pants, the love I feel for her rushes through my chest. I press a sweet kiss to her forehead, something so out of character for me and yet so right in this moment.

  She grasps me inside my pants, and a low grunt bubbles up from my chest.

  “I want you, Brian. I want this.” Her voice is a soft plea, and it’s what I need to hear. I stand up and pull my pants off. She gasps when I reach for her and yank her panties off as I decide to skip the rest of the foreplay.

  The last four weeks have been foreplay. It’s show time.

  She’s a flawless naked vision in front of me and I can’t get inside her fast enough.

  I roll on the condom and toss the packet on the floor. I pull her to the edge of the bed so her ass is nearly hanging off, and then I align the head of my cock with her pussy and push my way in.

  A low and sexy growl spills out of her as I drive all the way inside her, and then she grunts as I pull back. I warm us up by thrusting slowly a few times, my hands finding her breasts as she wraps her legs around my waist.