Page 36 of Virtuous Lies
“Honesty.” He stands abruptly, towering over me.
I frown. “Honesty?”
“Tell me the truth about you and Roberto.”
Guilt punches me in the stomach, and fear twists the pain of the assault. I pull the sheet up higher, sitting back to put as much distance between us as I can. “You know the truth.” My tone is defensive and curt, and I want to kick myself at how obvious my lie is.
He cocks his head. “Do I?”
“Yes.” I swallow, clamping my lips shut, hoping I’m exuding the attitude I’m fighting for and not the panic I’m consumed by.
“You were in love?” he tests, stretching the fingers of his right hand purposely before closing it in a fist. I watch the movement, my nostrils flaring. He tucks his hands into his pockets. His pants drop lower, the veins of his pubic bone now visible.
I close my eyes, annoyed at the way my body betrays my mind. I never considered my lack of sexual experience would buckle my resolve and turn me into a quivering mess of longing with a simple glance at a man’s body, but here we are. “I thought so, yes.”
“You let himfuckyou?” he pushes, and I’m unable to meet his gaze. “He took your innocence?”
“Yes.” The word is barely a breath.
“Hm,” he says.
My shoulders sag in relief as his footsteps move away from me.
“I’d like to go for a walk.” He stops at the bedroom door. “Fresh air will do us good.”
I take a steadying breath and nod. “Okay. I’ll get dressed.”
He doesn’t hear me, though, having already left the confines of the bedroom.
“I’ve hada nice day with you.”
We’re sitting in the living area, the fire burning in front of us, the heat reddening my cheeks. I stare at the flames, my eyes blurring at the intensity. I close them, holding them that way for a drawn-out second before turning my focus to my husband.
We spent the day exploring the surroundings of the cabin. We walked for hours. We spoke very little, consumed with our own thoughts and letting our eyes dance across the beauty of the brush to ease our overactive minds.
He looks contemplative, eyes snared on the shot of whiskey in his glass. “Good.”
“May I ask you something?” I blurt out, the two glasses of wine I’ve consumed having traveled straight to my head.
“You may. It doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll answer.”
I raise an eyebrow, and his body jolts with visible laughter.
“What is it about virgins that are so coveted?”
He wasn’t expecting the question, holding the sip of whiskey uncomfortably in his mouth before swallowing to clear his throat.
I wait patiently, lifting my glass of wine to my lips and sipping.
“Think of the most valuable thing you hold.”
I move to speak, lifting the hand that holds the engagement ring he placed on my finger, but he shakes his head. “Not dollar-wise.Valuable,” he stresses, tapping two fingers against his heart.
“The love of my sister and my brother,” I answer without hesitation.
He breathes in through his nostrils, and if I was better at reading people, I’d surmise his feelings were hurt.
“Now imagine if before they loved you, they loved another.”