Page 59 of Twisted Truth

Declan is quiet for a moment, and then I do feel like an asshole. I know exactly why he’s defensive. He’s had the worst luck with women out of all of us, and it’s scarred him. Twice now, he’s fallen in love with women who had promised they loved him, but who had led him on for months before he found out that they were just using him. One wanted the publicity and the luxurious life of dating a Langford, and another was an heiress who was dating both him and another rich, connected man, while she played both of them, trying to figure out which match would be the most beneficial for her. Both of the relationships left Declan crushed and jaded toward women and dating in general. He’s been even more anti-relationship than I have been in the last five years.

“I get why you’re hesitant about the situation,” I say, “but you saw the contract being signed. You know that we’re both very aware this is fake. Neither of us asked for this, and neither of us is trying to use the other.”

“Just be careful.”

Don’t end up like me, his expression says. Like my parents, he’s still holding out hope that I’ll find the one and live happily ever after, even if he’s sworn himself away from that path.

“I always am.”

Declan bursts out laughing. “That’s a fucking joke. You wouldn’t be in this mess if you were always careful.”

“Fuck you,” I return his earlier words, tearing into another bite of pizza.

The basketball game is a blowout.Our team is losing so badly because of injuries that the game is now mostly being played by the second string. It’s halfway through the third quarter, and Declan and I have decided that we can’t watch anymore; we’re going to get a quick workout in to calm our nerves instead.

“Nice look,” Declan laughs at me as we finish up with weights. “Why the hell do you have gray workout shirts?”

I turn and look at my reflection in the wall of mirrors near the weight equipment and grimace. The sweat stains on my shirt look like they’re being highlighted. Nasty.

I tear my shirt off, wiping the rest of my sweaty face and body on the shirt, as Declan and I head to the kitchen for water. Just as I raise the glass to my lips, Ella makes her way downstairs with the massage therapist following her. Ella is wearing a tiny, silky white robe, and her long olive legs glisten with oil from her massage.

Declan splutters into his water and turns away, looking anywhere but at Ella. Ella looks up and sees me, and her eyes widen. Oh right, I’m shirtless. The female massage therapist behind her notices too. And then a moment later, we’re all in the kitchen in various states of undress, with skin glistening with oil and sweat.

“How was your massage?” I ask Ella, trying for nonchalant.

“Amazing. Thank you for arranging it.”

She makes her way to the counter near the foyer, and I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from her. She’s not wearing a bra under the robe, and her nipples are pressing against the silky white fabric. Fuck.

She rifles through her purse, taking out her wallet.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m grabbing a tip,” she says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“No you’re not. Wait here,” I tell the massage therapist.

I grab my wallet out of my suit coat in my bedroom, then hurry back to the kitchen. Ella is holding out cash, and I playfully bat her hand away and give the massage therapist a generous tip. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” the massage therapist says, seductively, eyeing me up and down. She reaches into her pocket and holds out her card for me. “If you need my services again, don’t hesitate to call. I offer a—wide—range of services.” She gives me a wink before sauntering to the foyer, carrying her massage table.

Declan looks over at me with a cheeky grin. “I’ll just help her out, then.” He trots after her to the foyer.

“Wow. I liked her until right now,” Ella says, brows lifted as she looks from the retreating massage therapist back to me. “Subtle much?”

“Jealous?” I chuckle.

“Offended. As far as she knows, we’re together, and she basically offered you sexual favors right in front of me.”

“Unfortunately, it’s probably not the last time something like that will happen.” I shift on my feet, uncomfortable. “I don’t mean to sound like a total tool, but I’m propositioned all the time.”

She snorts. “Why am I not surprised? Especially when you look like that under your suit. God, you’re like a Greek statue.” She holds out her hand toward me, waving it at my shirtless torso.

“Like what you see?”

“Of course I do, I have eyes.”

Those eyes take me in, and I notice Ella’s breathing quicken. I grin, feeling feral. The air between us charges as I take two slow steps toward her, unable to stop myself. Hearing her admit that she thinks I’m attractive makes me feel bold and reckless. I look her up and down, my mouth watering at her perfect cleavage peeking out between the opening in her robe, her perky nipples pressing against the fabric, and her flushed face,glowing after her massage. And her legs. God, her legs. Before I can stop myself, all I can picture is those long legs wrapped around me as I peel open that robe and see for myself what’s beneath it. What I would give to have my head buried between those legs. To taste her. To be inside her . . .