“I know you’re lying, Emma.”
The words clung to the darkness, poisonous, inescapable.
Daniel’s arm was heavy around me, his breath warm against my ear, but there was no comfort in his closeness. His body was a cage, his voice the lock snapping shut.
My pulse hammered. My mouth opened, desperate for a reply, but nothing came. My throat was dry, my tongue thick, my heart pounding so violently I thought he must feel it against his chest.
“You heard me,” he whispered, his lips brushing my skin. “Don’t bother denying it.”
The silence between us grew unbearable. Finally, I forced out a hoarse whisper. “Lying about what?”
He didn’t answer right away. His hand traced down my arm slowly, deliberately, until his fingers laced through mine. The intimacy of the gesture twisted into something sin
