The Lie (Kings of Linwood Academy 2)

Like he needs something so badly it’s almost killing him, but at the same time, he’s not ready for it.

I hollow my cheeks, picking up my pace as I drag the nails of my free hand down his side, over the firm muscles of his obliques. His whole body shudders beneath me, and he comes hard in my mouth. I swallow, doing my best to catch all of it, and when his body finally starts to relax, I release him from my mouth and glance up at him.

He’s gazing down the length of his body at me, his fingers still tangled in my hair. The look on his face makes arousal flare inside me all over again, and I crawl slowly back up the bed, letting my skin brush against his as I do.

The hand holding my hair releases it, and he palms the back of my head instead, bringing my lips to his. We’re both more relaxed, softer now, and I feel that in our kiss—a recognition that something fundamental has already changed between us.

It will never go back to the way it was.

But that’s okay. I don’t think I want it to.

When our kiss breaks, I roll off of him and drape myself against his body, pressing our naked skin together. I crane my neck to look up at his face, then murmur, “You’re not still gonna sleep on the couch, are you?”

“Fuck no.”

He smiles, kisses my nose, and then reaches down to pull the covers over us, as if to show me he has no intention of leaving. Then he wraps his arms around me, keeping me nestled against his side.

“I won’t tell Linc or the other guys what you told me, Low,” he whispers. “But you should tell them. They won’t freak out or get weird, I promise. I know it’s easier keeping it a secret… but having people you trust know your secrets and still see you for you? That’s even better.”

I nod, because he’s right. I have that with my mom and Hunter, and it’s the only thing that’s helped me keep my sanity sometimes. Mom still worries about me, but that’s different than the pitying looks strangers give me when they hear I had childhood cancer. She went through it all with me, so she’s allowed to worry.

A moment later, River shifts our positions so he can lean over and turn off the bedside lamp. I end up curled on my side, the little spoon to his bigger one, as his arm steals around my waist, his palm resting on my stomach and his breath stirring my hair.

We fall asleep like that, our bodies molded together, and it might be even better than everything else that came before.

18

I half expect things to feel awkward in the bright light of morning, but they really don’t.

River wakes up slowly and kisses me thoroughly, and then we take turns in the bathroom getting ready. He grabs us some breakfast from the kitchen, and I don’t see either of his parents. As far as I know, they have no idea I slept over last night, but that can’t possibly last. Not once Mr. Black realizes I’m no longer staying under his roof, and not after I tell Mom I moved out.

But it’s not really worth stressing about until it happens—there are bigger, more important things to be stressing out about right now.

River’s phone vibrates a moment before Dax and Chase pull up outside. The two of us slip into the back seat, and I can feel the twins’ gazes on me—Dax through the rearview and Chase over his shoulder. I wonder if they know what happened between me and River last night, if they can see it on my skin somehow. I don’t look any different, but I feel different, like the change between the two of us set off a change in me too.

Neither of the copper-haired boys comment on it though. Instead, Chase shakes his head.

“Samuel fucking Black, huh?”

“Yeah. Maybe so.”

God, it still feels so weird to talk about it out loud. It’s hard to wrap my head around the possibility that the man who hired my mom could be a killer. Hard to reconcile the powerful, controlled figure in the black ski mask with the man who smiles more than most situations call for.

“Linc’s gotta be losing his shit,” Chase mutters, still craning his neck to look at us in the back.

My body goes rigid with worry, and River’s hand finds mine, squeezing gently.

“He can handle it,” he tells Chase. There’s an admonishing note in his voice, and I can read between the lines pretty easily to pick up the subtext—don’t freak Harlow out.

The boy in the front seat flicks his gaze to me, and he nods vigorously. “Yeah. Yeah, of course he can. We just gotta find some evidence to prove it, and then we can finally go to the cops. Let that Dunagan guy take it from there.”

Yes, please. There’s nothing in the whole damn world I want more than to pass off the information clogging up my brain and heart to someone who knows what they’re doing. Who has the resources to investigate and the authority to arrest the true killer.

But I can’t do that until I know it won’t put my mom or any of us in worse danger.

Not until we have solid proof.

We meet Lincoln outside the front doors of Linwood, and it doesn’t look like he slept at all last night. He looks slightly disheveled, his hair unkempt and his eyes a little too bright, like he’s exhausted and wired at the same time.