Buried Lies (Hidden Truths)

by Brittney Sahin

  I hated lying to her, but I couldn’t open up. Not yet, at least.

  “Which would be worse—handing over an unsuccessful company or a jail sentence?” she spat, but then covered her face with her hands for a brief moment. “Sorry. I’m supposed to be on Declan’s side.”

  Supposed to be on Declan’s side? What did that mean?

  She shook her head and steepled her hands together, her fingertips brushing against her lips. “Connor. I’m an adult. I’m capable of making my own decisions. Is that the only reason you came here?”

  No. My damn body ached to simply be near her. “Olivia, you shouldn’t be working for Declan. You’re better than that.” I didn’t mean to say being a personal assistant wasn’t a good job, but—with Declan? “You were preparing to rule the world when we were young. You were going to be a lawyer. Hell, a senator. Or more.” I took a step closer to her, and she attempted a step back, but bumped into the table. Her palms rubbed against her jeans as her eyes focused on the floor.

  “Things change.”

  Of course—her sister. This wasn’t what her sister would have wanted for her, but who was I to say? And who was I to remind her of that pain?

  “What about you, Connor? Are you the man you always wanted to be?” She looked down at my hand, which was now on her arm, and I tugged her close to me. I tipped her chin up and pulled her gaze to mine. “I don’t know who I am anymore. I’ve been adrift for a long time,” I remarked, a painful honesty slicing through my words.

  “Why’d you join the Marines? What happened to you?”

  I released my hold on her and exhaled sharply before moving past her and into her kitchen. “Got anything to drink?”

  “Connor,” she followed after me, “you haven’t changed, have you? Always sidestepping the big issues.”

  I spun around, practically pinning her to the counter in the galley kitchen. My hands braced the granite top on each side of her, and her chest rose and fell enough to give her away.

  “Connor.”

  My eyes narrowed on her as I angled my head, listening. “Do you hear the song playing?”

  She nodded as she rolled her tongue over her teeth. We were so close I could almost feel her body quiver.

  “Do you remember?”

  “How could I forget?” She touched my arm and moved it, scooting free from me. “This song played the first night I finally agreed to dance with you.” She grabbed a beer from the fridge and tossed it at me. “I didn’t have a clue how to dance to house music. But you insisted, and God, did I look like an idiot the first time.”

  “You were adorable. I wasn’t sure what you were doing at first. The jive, or something? But once you got into your groove, I knew I was done for. The way your body moves should be a sin.” I cleared my throat, remembering her body against mine on dance floors all over Manhattan.

  She swallowed and moved away from me again.

  I removed the top of the beer and found her standing in the living room, her back to me.

  The rain had stopped. It must’ve been a quick shower. My hair was still a little wet, but my clothes weren’t bad. I’d forgotten all about them the second Olivia had opened her door.

  I brought the bottle to my lips and sat in the chair, my fingers tapping the side to the thumping beat of the music.

  “You going to answer my question? Why’d you turn into your father?”

  “I’m not my father,” I snapped, my body growing rigid at the very idea. “And are you going to tell me why you changed your last name and work for some creep like Declan?”

  She faltered a little as she turned around. “I wanted a fresh start after Jessie died.” She stared at her bare feet. “A new name. A new life.”

  I knew she was lying as soon as she looked up at me. Her mouth was tight, her brows slanted. She was panting, just slightly. What was she hiding?

  I took another swig of my beer. Of course, I wasn’t being totally honest with her, either.

  “I answered. Your turn.” She took a seat on the couch and pulled a pillow to her chest as if to guard herself.

  “After the baby,” I started, but had to look away from her. It hurt too much to look her in the eyes and talk about this, “my father and I got into a big fight about you. I was angry at everyone and everything. I decided to get the hell out of New York. I took off, and the next thing I knew I was in boot camp.” I scratched my chin and released a breath. “I didn’t talk to my father for a long time after that.”

  Her mouth opened as her eyes darkened, but she didn’t say anything.

  “I don’t want to talk about our past anymore, though.” I stood up and rubbed the back of my neck. I almost forgot why I had come.

  “I think we need to talk about it.” She folded her arms and rose to her feet. “You shouldn’t have left me.” Her voice was raw. Gritty. “You don’t get to be pissed at me.”

  Was she out of her mind? Did she forget that she had wrecked my damn life? I couldn’t do this. I thought we could both move on if we just avoided the elephant in the room, but who was I kidding? The tension between us was too thick to elude. “I’m out of here.” I set the bottle down in front of me and moved to the door.

  “Connor, wait.”

  My hand froze on the knob, but I couldn’t turn around. My hands slid up and I pressed both palms to the door, lowering my head, not sure what to do. This woman had me skipping down memory lane one minute and ready to run the next. The flip-flopping was making me sick.

  I knew it would be better if I never saw her again, but as long as she worked for Declan, and as long as there were unanswered questions about my father and the company, I would have to face her.

  “If you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t press.” Her hand rested on my back, and my shoulder blades flexed back at her touch.

  “Damn it, Liv.” My voice was deep and gravelly as I squeezed my eyes shut. “I hate myself for still wanting you.”

  “I’m in the same boat,” she said in a soft voice.

  I turned to face her, and I couldn’t fight it anymore. I pulled her against me and snaked my hand through her hair, cupping the back of her head, as my mouth found hers.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Olivia

  Connor was kissing me. And I was letting him. No, not just letting him. I was kissing him back.

  I told myself to stop. I told myself to back away. But I couldn’t.

  Instead, my hands slipped beneath his slightly damp T-shirt. My fingertips brushed against his warm skin; he raised his arms, and I peeled the shirt off.

  He lifted me up, and my legs wrapped around his hips as his tongue pushed into my mouth. As he carried me down the hall and to my room, I wondered how the hell something so wrong could feel so unbelievably right. You’re mine, Liv. Forever mine. The memory of Connor’s promises pushed into my mind. He didn’t use his words lightly—they came in the moments that really mattered. For a nineteen-year-old-girl, those words had been everything.

  Connor released me in front of my bed, and my feet found the ground. I started for my own shirt, desperate to have his hands on my body. His breath hitched, and his eyes darted to my chest once my lacy bra dropped to the floor.

  I pulled air into my lungs as he lunged for me, his hands in my hair again, his mouth on mine. His fingers grazed my neck, traced the line of my collarbone, and dipped down to cup one of my breasts. My nipples tightened as he crushed his lips to mine, taking my mouth like he couldn’t get enough.

  “Fuck,” he whispered after breaking our kiss. His eyes pinned me as frenzied need gripped hold. My hands shot to his chest, dying to touch his hard, rippled flesh.

  He used his knee and nudged my legs apart. I gasped as he brought both his hands to my ass and lifted me up into the air.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck and tilted my head back as he planted kisses on my throat. A moan escaped my lips, and he laid me on the bed.

  His eyes darted to mine as he kneeled on the floor, and I propped myself
up on my elbows. I stared at his hardened features as he started with my zipper and tugged at my jeans. He worked them off, leaving me only in pink panties. I luxuriated under his gaze.

  He lifted my leg and kissed my ankle before his hands slipped up my legs, massaging and kneading my flesh as he kissed my skin, making my body sizzle.

  I wanted to touch him, too—his arousal was obvious—but he was teasing and taunting me with his hands and lips. And then his face came close to my inner thigh and my hips bucked. I shifted back, my head hitting the bed as he tore the thin fabric of my underwear and replaced it with his mouth.

  I gripped the sheets. I’d completely forgotten what it felt like to have a man there.

  And oh God, was Connor an expert—the memories of our past times together played through my mind, the music from the other room serving as my own personal soundtrack.

  Just when I was on the brink of coming, Connor was off me and removing his jeans and boxers. My body was shaking with need as he mounted me. I reached for him, wanting to feel him the way he’d touched me. His body arched when my hand closed around him. He lowered his head to my ear, and his breath flowed over me, driving me crazy. I bit into his shoulder, trying to keep myself from yelping as he removed my hand from him, sheathed himself with a condom, and worked himself into me. Filling me.

  The void had been there for over ten years—waiting for him, ever since he left. I writhed beneath him, savoring the sensation of him inside me. We’re going to do this forever. Every day. And every night. That’s what Connor said to me after our first time together, after claiming my virginity.

  I shut my eyes, hating myself for remembering.

  My body jerked up as he moved out and back into me again; it gripped me back to reality, to the pleasure of the moment.

  My nipples grazed his chest, and my body lined in goosebumps as he moved faster and faster; my hands clawed at the sheets as he throbbed inside me.

  But then he stopped. My eyes widened, panicked. I was so close . . . no . . .

  He shifted off me and to his back before pulling me up and on top of him.

  Oh. He remembered. I positioned over him and pressed my hands to his chest. I sunk down, sheathing his length and began to rock, swaying my hips back and forth. His eyes glinted, his jaw tightened, and I could tell he was trying hard to hang on as I grinded and moved against him, the friction pushing me to the edge.

  I tried to swallow back my emotions, but they fed into my desire.

  His hands moved up and down my outer thighs, blazing trails of fire on my skin with each movement.

  “Oh . . .” My core tightened, my sex clenched, and I sank on top of him as my body exploded with orgasm. His eyes squeezed shut as he held my hips. His body tensed and he shuddered beneath me.

  I nuzzled my face against his chest, inhaling his piney cologne, and then slipped off of him. But he pulled me against him. His arm banded around my hip, holding me tight. You’re mine, Liv. Forever mine. The memory of what we once had rushed back into my mind with a painful blow.

  Despite the confusion, the lies, and the fear—I felt safe.

  But when I woke up an hour later, he was gone.

  ***

  Connor

  I rested my head against my steering wheel and tried to make sense of what in the hell had happened. What should never have happened.

  I remembered the first time we were together. I hadn’t known she was a virgin. She’d held that from me until I was buried deep inside her, and the realization of what I’d done, what I’d taken from her, hit me.

  She didn’t want me to know, she had said. She hadn’t wanted me to take it easy on her. She told me she had wanted me: Sexy. Hungry. And wild. She was amazing then, and God, was she still incredible now.

  My body stirred again at the thought.

  I needed to go. She and I would never work. Our past was too messed up, and our present was just as complicated.

  Perhaps we had satiated our need for each other. Perhaps now we could move on. But part of me wasn’t sure if that’d be possible.

  I gripped my steering wheel harder, hoping to control myself, but before I knew it, I was back inside the elevator of her building.

  A woman clad in black leather pants and a tight gold top shot me an “I want you” look as we rode in the elevator together. Did I give off some vibe, or was I still hard from thoughts of Olivia? I ignored the woman and hurried away the second the doors peeled open.

  I balled my hands into fists at my sides and stood outside Olivia’s door. I had turned the lock on my way out, worried about her safety, and she was probably asleep inside. She may not have even realized I’d left.

  I needed to leave. To go home.

  But I couldn’t.

  Instead, I rang the bell, knowing she wouldn’t hear a knock if she were asleep. Plus, I could still hear the faint sound of music from inside.

  After a painfully long minute, the door opened. Olivia stood before me in a full-length, creamy silk robe. Her hair was draped over one shoulder, and her mascara was smudged beneath her eyes, which made her look even sexier.

  “What are you—”

  I moved into her apartment, shoved the door shut behind me and cupped her cheeks with both my hands as I cut her off with my mouth.

  She broke the kiss and stepped back. “You left.” She steadied her eyes on mine. There was pain there. “Again.”

  “I’m sorry. I thought I should leave. I’ve been sitting in my car for twenty minutes and couldn’t even turn on the engine.”

  “I don’t want to sleep alone tonight,” she said softly. And my control was shattered as her hands slipped to the knot of her robe. My hand seized her waist, and I pulled her tight body against mine.

  “What do you want?” I rasped, still beholding her eyes.

  “You.” She pulled her bottom lip into her mouth as her robe fell to the floor.

  My hand shot to her stomach and trailed down to her center, which was still soaking wet. “I’m going to lose my damn mind,” I whispered into her ear as I stroked her soft flesh.

  She bucked against my hand, and I pinned her back to the wall in the hallway. She tilted her head back, a moan escaping from her mouth. “I love you like this. Wet. Ready for me.”

  I felt her shudder against me as her fingertips gripped my shoulders. “Not yet. I don’t want to come yet. Please.”

  I nipped her bottom lip before kissing her again, but kept my hand between her thighs, wanting nothing more than to feel her lose control.

  My hand pinched her nipple as I continued to torment her. Soon, she was panting. Begging for release.

  “Connor, please. Oh, yes . . .”

  She clung to my body as she came, and I pressed my lips to her ear.

  “I want you back in the bathroom where we started the other night.” My voice was rough, because I could barely contain my need to be back inside her again. I don’t know if I’d ever satisfy my need for her, but I knew how the story would end.

  One of us would get hurt.

  Shit, I couldn’t think about it. All I wanted to think about was how I was going to make her scream my name.

  I followed her into her bedroom, watching her body move with grace. She had no shame in her nakedness, her narrow waist, her perfect hips, her ass, which I wanted to sink my teeth into . . .

  She entered the bathroom, dimmed the lights, and turned on the shower. I hastily stripped out of my clothes and joined her beneath the spray. She tilted her head back, allowing the water to pour over her. “My turn,” she said before lowering herself in front of me.

  I braced myself against the walls and looked down at her as she took me into her mouth. My muscles went taut, and my stomach tightened as she pumped me with her fist while she sucked.

  I wanted this, but I wanted to be inside of her more. “Stop.” I touched her shoulder, and she looked up at me. “Stand up,” I said, and my voice sounded like a command.

  “I’m not done,” she said while conti
nuing to caress me, making it hard for me to think.

  “I need to feel you again.” I groaned. “Be inside you.”

  Her lips parted, and she gifted me with her dimples before pushing up to her feet.

  I lifted her up and buried myself deep inside her. With her legs wrapped tight around my hips, I braced one wall, holding on to her with the other. She shimmied up and down until the sensation had me reeling.

  Shower sex is delicious, but also—realistically—a challenge. She slipped off me and released a deep, sobering laugh. “Are we getting older, or was it always this difficult?”

  I was pretty sure at that moment, watching Olivia laugh and smile, I was about the happiest I’d been in a long time. I angled my head and just stared at her for a moment, fascinated that someone could be so beautiful.

  The lies and the pain were gone in that moment. I refused to allow them to suffocate me, at least for tonight.

  “Tonight, Liv . . . tonight, you’re mine.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Olivia

  Blake had already called my phone three times that morning. I was grateful it was in the drawer in my nightstand on vibrate, but every time I heard the buzzing sound coming from my purse, it served as a quiet reminder that I was in trouble.

  I was lying in bed with Connor, a man who planned on making a deal with Declan despite the fact that he worried it was illegal. And I had no idea what to do. How had it come to this?

  I stared at Connor snoozing next to me, and I studied his masculine features. The sexy hard planes of his body, and the tough exterior . . . which only covered a sensitive, funny, and amazing man beneath the surface.

  What really happened ten years ago? My hand slipped to my stomach, and I shut my eyes.

  Connor and I hadn’t meant to get pregnant. It was a mistake, but once we learned about it, we made the commitment to each other to raise the child together. We loved each other. It made sense. But I also knew that he’d eventually find out that I lied about my age and background. I was scared he’d hate me, that he’d run from me—leave me—like my mom had, so I kept putting it off. I promised myself I’d tell him the truth, though.