Page 29 of The Lie

Chapter 10

Poppy

I open my eyes, and it takes a moment to remember where I am.

The unfamiliar ache in my body reminds me that I fell asleep on the couch, and for a second, I’m disoriented. Then I hear the faint clink of dishes coming from the kitchen.

I push myself upright, and my eyes widen when I see Bennett standing at the sink, his broad shoulders filling my view as he dries the last of the dishes.

For a moment, I simply watch him.

There’s something undeniably beautiful about this man. The way he moves with quiet purpose and takes over a task he never had to do, simply because he wanted to make things a little easier for me.

My gaze drifts lower, lingering for a second too long on the perfectly tailored trousers hugging his very distracting, round arse.

How did this fake relationship suddenly become something more?

When did pretending start feeling real?

When did these feelings begin taking hold without me even noticing?

Heat creeps into my cheeks, and I quickly force my attention elsewhere, only to find myself staring at the dining room table.

The mess from the wake is gone. The empty plates, the half-finished drinks, and the remnants of the day all cleaned away while I slept.

I look down at the throw blanket resting over my lap, and my chest tightens when I realise Bennett must have placed it there. Such a small thing, but somehow it feels like so much more.

I push the blanket aside and stand, my stocking-covered feet padding softly across the floor as I make my way towards him.

“Hey.”

He glances over his shoulder, and a smile immediately curves his lips. Once again, I’m struck by how gorgeous this man is.

Does he even realise what he’s become to me? That somewhere between chaos and loss, he became the calm in my storm?

Bennett Sinclair is the one steady thing I never knew I needed, and I find myself overwhelmed by how grateful I am that he’s here.

“You cleaned up?”

“You needed your sleep,” he replies, placing the plate in his hand down on the counter before turning to face me.

I take a step closer, and before I can overthink it, I do something neither of us expects. I reach for his tie, tugging gently as I rise onto the tips of my toes, and place my lips on his. It’s not a friendly kiss either.

I’m half expecting him to pull away, to ask me what the hell I’m doing, or to remind me that this isn’t real. But he doesn’t. The tea towel slips from his hand as his arms snake around my waist, pulling me closer as he kisses me back.

He kisses me back!

It’s like all the built-up tension that’s been simmering between us for weeks finally snaps. Every stolen glance, every almost-touch, every moment we’ve held ourselves back comes rushing forward as he moves me across the kitchen, presses me against the fridge and groans into my mouth.

“Poppy,” he growls.

My hands move to his hair, tugging slightly on the longer, dark strands on top of his head. “Bennett.”

It’s been a long time since I’ve been intimate with a man. Far too long. And I know that if this kiss continues, things are going to get out of hand. Common sense tells me to slow down, take a moment, and remember that this started as a lie.

But I don’t care.

I want this.