Twisted Lies (Twisted 4)

Christian came into view, his skin flushed from our most recent session. Somehow, he looked even more gorgeous than before.

His brows rose beneath my scrutiny. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” My smile grew. “Absolutely nothing.”

I didn’t want to move, but I forced myself to sit up and put on my swimsuit in case we ran into other boats later.

Christian sank into the seat next to me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders while I snuggled closer to his side.

The gentle rocking of the boat, the soft lap of the waves, the quiet, drowsy contentment in the air…

I couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful afternoon.

I ran a lazy hand over Christian’s abs and chest. I rarely had the chance to soak him in like this. He was always the one taking care of me, not the other way around.

I rested my hand on his chest and kissed my way along the curve of his shoulder, up his neck, and along his jaw.

Christian lazed still, letting me explore him at my leisure.

The world saw him as a rich, handsome CEO, which he was. But there was another layer of Christian Harper beneath his carefully cultivated exterior.

I saw it in the way he looked at me like I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

I heard it in the way he encouraged me and stood up for me.

And I felt it in the way he held me like he never wanted to let go.

I pressed my lips to the corner of his mouth, my heart aching for a reason I couldn’t name.

Rich, handsome men were a dime a dozen, but men with hearts like his were a rare breed.

He wasn’t perfect, but he was perfect for me.

My lips brushed his once. Twice.

Maybe it was the sun, the dreamy lull after a month in Italy, or my lingering post-orgasmic high.

Whatever it was, it uncorked a hidden bottle of courage that poured onto my tongue and pushed three little words out.

“I love you,” I whispered.

I knew he didn’t believe in love.

I knew there was a strong chance he wouldn’t say it back.

But I had to tell him anyway.

It was time I stopped holding myself back from doing things I wanted because of how people might react.

Christian’s entire body went statue still. Even his breaths seemed to have ceased.

I lifted my head. A dark, tumultuous storm brewed in his eyes and charged the air with electricity.

“Stella…” His raw voice wrapped around my heart like a vine. “I don’t deserve your love.”

“You deserve it more than anyone.” His heartbeat thundered beneath my hand. “I’m not expecting you to say it back right now. But I wanted you to know.”

Christian’s chest rose and fell with ragged breaths. He curled his hand around the back of my neck and pressed his forehead to mine.

“The day I met you,” he said. “Was the luckiest day of my life. You’ve always been the brightest part of my world, Butterfly. And you always will be.”

The depth of emotion in his words stung my eyes. “You don’t strike me as a guy who believes in luck.”

“I believe in everything when it comes to you.”

Including love.

The implication resonated in the timbre of his voice and the way he kissed me again, like he was drowning and I was his only source of oxygen. Vital. Precious. Loved.

I melted into his embrace and let it sweep me away the way it always did.

Christian had his hang-ups about the L word, so I understood why it was difficult for him to say it out loud.

But I didn’t need to hear it when I felt it. And my conviction in our love was so strong, my high from my confession so great, that they drowned out the small, insidious voices whispering that the greatest falls always came after the greatest highs.