Free Deceptions: A Collection by Shiloh Walker Page A

just went with it until she was practically riding his thigh—fuck—and her face was still tucked up against his neck while she cried, which was killing him.
    This was hell, he thought, miserably. His body was in full-blown ready to fuck mode, while everything else in him just wanted to do whatever it took to make her feel better. To stop crying. To realize she was better off without that user in her life.
    That was why it happened.
    That was completely why it happened.
    Why when she sucked in a breath and looked up, his name a whisper on her lips, he didn’t steel himself the way he should have.
    Why he looked at her and let himself touch her. He was trying to comfort her.
    That was why he wiped the tears away and when she turned her face into his hand with a broken little sigh, he pressed his lips to her temple.
    That was why he let himself kiss her again, a little lower on her cheek as a startled noise left her. “Decker…” she whispered.
    “Don’t cry,” he whispered against her cheek. “He’s not worth it. He’s not worth you .”
    She sniffled again and turned her face toward his.
    She did that.
    Her lips glanced off his and maybe it wasn’t a real kiss, but it felt like one—or the closest he’d ever gotten to a real kiss from her. At least since before the day he’d fucked it all up and scared her. Scared her into taking off into the arms of somebody who’d just hurt her, bruise her, use her—
    “Don’t cry,” he whispered again, rubbing his lips over her cheek before he went to kiss the tears away.
    She lifted a hand to his cheek.
    He went still.
    When her thumb brushed over his lower lip, he shuddered. Don’t do anything. Don’t. Just don’t…
    “I remember when you kissed me.”
    Hunger snapped its jaws around him, tried to swallow him whole. He battled it back. “That…” He clenched his jaw. “That was a long time ago.”
    Her eyes fell away. “Yeah. Before. And you didn’t really want…”
    She started to squirm, shoving at his chest. “Let me go.”
     
     
    I can’t believe I even mentioned that. Humiliated, Elizabeth tried to wiggle away but solid, muscled arms held her firmly in place.
    “Let me go, Deck,” she said, turning her head so she didn’t have to look in his blue eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up.”
    There was one thing they didn’t talk about.
    That day, the next day…and the three weeks that followed—three weeks that culminated in screams, then blood…then sirens. When all was said and done, Decker was arrested while she locked herself in a prison of her own making.
    What was she doing?
    “Let me go,” she said again, shoving at his chest when he still didn’t let go of her.
    Instead, he rolled, twisted and shifting until he had her body tucked under his. “I didn’t really want what?”
    Didn’t really—
    The words clanged together, jumbled in her head, but they didn’t make sense. At all. At least not right away. She was too busy trying to remember how to breathe.
    It wasn’t that Decker was crushing her. Oh, he was heavy, but he had his arms braced on either side of her so that most of his weight was balanced there, the muscles rippling, hard…and tempting. No. Not tempting , she told herself, almost desperately.
    She couldn’t breathe because her legs were tangled with his and his hips were tucked in the cradle of hers and now…involuntarily, she rolled and she sucked in a gasp as she felt him throb against her, the hard, heavy length of his cock settling more firmly against her through the flimsy layers of her skirt, like the material wasn’t even there. His pupils spiked and unless she was just really, really losing her mind, that was heat in his eyes—she’d seen that look before.
    She’d seen it directed at others. And that one time—
    “I didn’t really want what?” he murmured, his mouth so close to hers, she could feel the caress of his breath dance across her lips.
    “Decker.” She tore her gaze