The Lie Natalie Wrye (english novels for beginners TXT) 📖

face says you’re ready to go to war.”

“No. I’d like to think that it says I’m terrified. I’ve been lying to everyone else. I don’t want to lie to myself anymore. Because I am. And I didn’t eat enough hors d’oeuvres so I’m starving. And it’s so freezing in this speakeasy my nipples could cut through glass they’re so hard, I’m not even kidding.”

Andrew helps me across.

“Don’t worry. I believe you. About the cold, the hors d’oeuvres.” He pauses, his hands sliding down to my waist as he helps me steady my steps. “And your nipples. Let me know if they need any help. My hands are plenty warm.”

I laugh. And it’s the first time I have all hour.

Andrew is teasing. His smile tells me so.

This is the Andrew I know. The one who acts like he doesn’t care but does.

I still can feel his worry for me, his concern coming off his skin in palpable waves.

He’s almost beautiful standing here like this in front of me, looking at me quietly in the semi-dark.

He no longer smells of pale ale the way he does every night when he’s serving at the bar.

The natural smell of his skin—all pepper and amber-wood—floats around me and it is all I can do not to step into his touch closer, press my face to the collar of his shirt.

I wonder if he’s cold. I wonder if his skin is soft.

I wonder what it tastes like.

I wonder if things will ever be the same after tonight.

But mostly, I wonder what the hell is happening between us…and how the hell did it get this way.

I helped Andrew when I didn’t have to. And he helped me.

But every second we avoid what happened between us is mini-torture for me, every second we don’t address what went down is another second that my business is in jeopardy and so is his standing with his family because of everything we did.

Taking a deep breath that hurts to my core, I cover Andrew’s hands with mine, crossing my fingers over my arms to match his, and his slow rubbing comes to a stop.

He stares at my face. I stare back.

“I have to get back home. Back to the bar. I can’t do this. I knew I couldn’t do this. And I think you knew it, too.”

His jaw ticks. “I know.”

“I can help you make up an excuse for my absence. Something about a death in the family. Or anything else. But after that, we have to go our separate ways.”

“Of course.”

“You’re not safe with me. I might drink too much of that whiskey I don’t even like and say the wrong things to someone.”

“Kinda got that.”

“We’ll probably make more headway if you we just split up now. Tell people it just didn’t work between us… It wouldn’t be the biggest lie.”

“Definitely not the worst one we’ve told.”

“So, it sounds like a plan?”

His pale blue eyes gleam. “Good.”

Nothing magical happens when I finish. Nothing earth-shattering. Nothing insane.

But there’s a break in the earth. Or at least in my own body.

Part of me—something deep inside—knows that whatever is going on, with Andrew’s family, with Andrew’s recent changes, with the secrets behind those glacial eyes, that is the last time I’ll see him.

I’ll go back to my responsibilities. And he’ll go back to being a billionaire—carefree.

Construction savant Michael Bassett’s words still ring in my head.

“Sorry about your father.”

I was too.

Sorry that I’d wound up just like him.

Consumed by responsibility, just like he’d been when my mom passed away.

I was seven. And he couldn’t deal.

The weight of his obligations crushed him. Until he crushed himself, eventually pushing me and everyone who loved him away until he died—alone with nothing but a drink to hold close.

As for me…

I’m about to leave the only man I’ve ever let get close.

His arms are still on mine, and my hands are on his.

I can see the hunger in his eyes. The lust.

And I can see my own reflected in his light blue eyes.

Every decision, every agreement, every action I’ve made in the last year and a half have all been for the business, the bar, the future I’ve been building.

Every decision…

But this.

When I allow Andrew to hold me closer, tug my body towards his, and kiss me right where we stand.

Chapter 14

ANDREW

For as long as I live, I don’t think I’ll forget this moment.

The moment that Nancy starts to yield for me.

I’ve told myself this past day that I wouldn’t push her, pull her boundaries, but all that’s out the window because I’ve never felt more fucking sure that I need to drive her into giving in.

Giving into her impulses. Her desires.

Giving in to me.

When she’d walked out of that hotel towards me, stubborn chin raised and haughty, I’d thought I was seeing things.

Seeing someone else.

But never in a million years did I think it would be my buttoned-up boss—a woman who denied her own sexy wiles more than anyone I’d known.

And I should be doing the same.

Denying this.

I should be running away from Nancy. From the feeling of being what she needs.

Because that’s what I’ve always done when reality became too much.

I ran.

But if I keep running right now, I know what I’ll have to do. What I’ll have to become.

Who I’ll have to become.

Drew Fletcher, the self-absorbed bartender, doesn’t have the strength to avoid this.

But Lincoln Andrew Fletcher does.

Lincoln Andrew Fletcher was strong once—the heir to his own empire.

I almost miss the Drew Fletcher I’ve been these past seven years because when Nancy looks at me the way she is now, that Drew is nowhere to be found in this moment—so far gone I’ve even forgotten what he feels like.

But I know he’s not strong enough to stand up for what he wants.

Not like the man before him. The man I’m becoming again.

Because the second Nancy’s tiny fingernails dig into my waist as I lower my mouth to hers, I toss that coward Drew Fletcher out the fucking window.

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