Dirty Secrets (Get Dirty 4)

I take a big breath and an even bigger leap into the abyss that is Dominick Angeline’s world. “I love you, too.”

The wide, bright smile and the utter happiness in his eyes tell me that he was scared . . . that nobody’s ever told him that before and meant it like I do. I feel like he’s opening a window to his soul, letting me in, and I can see through the cracks in his armor to the real man beneath the persona.

He pulls me to him and kisses me sweetly, our tongues tangling together like we can taste the words we’ve spoken, savor them like candy. When we part, we snuggle back together, both of us on our sides, our arms and legs knotted in one another, drifting off into totally blissful slumber.

I awaken minutes or hours later, I don’t really know. At first, I wonder if everything was just a crazy dream, but when I feel his weight on me, I know it was real.

I’m in love with Dominick Angeline and he’s in love with me.

Boom. Mic drop.

But I really need to get up and pee. I wiggle, and he pulls me tighter at first, not letting me go, and I laughingly press on his shoulder.

“Let me up or the wet spot on the bed isn’t going to be nearly as sexy.”

Dom’s lips twitch in a sleepy laugh, and he lets go. “Okay, okay.”

I get to the door, looking back when I hear him turn over. “Hey . . . when I get back, wanna play strip chess?”

“You’re already naked,” he says, stating the obvious.

“Oh, guess we’ll have to figure out something other than clothes to bet with,” I tease.

He smirks, getting up on an elbow. “Dirty girl. I like it.”

After a quick potty break, I wash my hands and try to clean myself up a bit in the bathroom mirror. Wiping under my eyes to remove the mascara streaks and pulling my hair back up into its messy bun, I call it good and grab the chessboard and pieces from the living room.

I expect to see Dominick still lazing in bed when I get back, maybe asleep, maybe lying on his back with his cock saying he’s woke as fuck. What I don’t expect is to see him messing with the smoke detector in the corner, his naked butt and legs stretched long as he stands on tiptoe to mess around with the device on my ceiling.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“I thought I saw the light flash red and wanted to make sure the batteries are okay,” he says, pointing. “You know, every six months and all.”

But there’s something about the frozen neutral look on his face, like his usual expressiveness with me has disappeared. It’s his business face, I realize. The words are pretty smooth too, slipping off his tongue easily. But it’s in that silky smoothness I can tell there’s something more. And though I can’t explain it, somehow, I can tell he’s lying. Mere moments after being inside me and saying ‘I love you’ for the first time, he’s being untruthful.

The disparity breaks my heart, and I feel as naïve as TJ made me out to be.

I take a step backward, hurt and confused over why he’d lie about something so unimportant as my smoke detector. I stumble ever so slightly and grab at the door frame, realizing a moment too late that the chess set’s slipping, and the heavy weight falls at my feet, an inch from my toes as pieces scatter.

“Allie? Are you okay?” Dominick says, rushing for me, but I’m already on balance again, holding my hand up as I put space between us.

“No. You just lied to me, Dom. Your fucking hands-on privileges are revoked when you’re doing that. Don’t touch me.”

He flinches like I’m the one who just cracked his heart and he pulls up, his face fraught with concern. “Allie, what’s wrong? I was just checking the battery. Everything’s fine.”

He says it like I’m crazy, like he’s coddling a child who just found out there’s no Santa, but I can see the tension in the lines at the corners of his eyes and his chest rising and falling just a bit too fast. Shit, he’s good, but he’s got a tell. He’s hiding something, maybe not lying that time, but deceiving me all the same.

“You’re lying to me. Don’t do it, Dominick. Don’t you fucking lie after you just told me you love me and fucked my brains out. Trans-fucking-parency, remember? If you want it, you need to give it.” My voice rises as I point a finger at him. He crowds into me until I’m digging a very nice manicure into his chest.

To his credit, he doesn’t step back from my anger, though I can see each word lash him like a whip. Instead, he looks steadily into my eyes, keeping his voice low and calm.