Page 168 of Dream On, Liar

“If he finds out, it could ruin this for me. My job. My career. Everything I’ve worked for.” My voice wavered at the edges, and I hated that it did. “I can’t risk that. I told you before, I’ve never had to ask him for anything, and I’m not sure if he’d be happy about me breaking his rule.”

He looked away.

“I don’t want to be a secret,” he said quietly.

The words landed heavier than anything else had.

“I know,” I whispered.

“No,” he said, firmer now, turning back to me. “You don’t.”

He shifted slightly, sitting back just enough that the warmth of him against me disappeared—and I felt it like a loss I hadn’t been prepared for. “Secrets have never done me any good.”

I stayed quiet.

Because I didn’t know what to say to that.

“My whole life has been full of them,” he continued, voice lower now. “Things people hid. Things people lied about. Things everyone knew except me. And I don’t want another one, even if I’m it.”

My chest tightened painfully.

“But as much as I want you.” He looked at me then. “Wanting each other doesn’t mean we should make a decision we’ll regret.”

I swallowed.

He leaned forward then, slowly, and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead.

It was gentle.

Careful.

And somehow it hurt more than the kiss that had set everything on fire.

“I think we should stop here,” he said quietly.

I closed my eyes.

Because part of me wanted to argue.

To push.

To tell him that this hurt far more than I could’ve imagined and suddenly consequences were no longer on my mind. But another part of me—quieter, steadier—understood exactly what he was doing.

He wasn’t pushing me away.

He was refusing to let me turn him into something hidden.

Something shameful.

Something temporary.

And somehow, in the middle of that restraint, I wanted him more than I had a right to.

28

Maeve

I HATED MYSELF FOR the words long after he’d left the room.