Lucca (Made Men #4)(79)

I couldn’t run away. I had to tell him. I had to tell him everything. I lied, and this was the part where I had to come clean and repent for my sins.

This time, my stupid actions weren’t only affecting me. I had dragged someone else into my mess, and now I had to try to fix it … even if that meant telling him everything.

So, there I was, turning back.

Anxiety pounded through my veins, urging me to run away, telling me it wasn’t worth it. My legs ignored the warning, dragging me kicking and screaming across the lot toward the tall, intimidating building that belonged to the very man I had screwed over. As a matter of fact, he screwed me, which was the whole problem.

Before I could reach the door and start a whole new series of arguments with myself, it swung open, and he filled the entire doorframe. I nearly cried.

With broad shoulders, a height of six-foot-five that would make basketball players weep, the perfection of his muscles, thick thighs concealed behind jeans, tight abs peeking through a white shirt, and sculpted biceps that flexed as he leaned against the doorframe, he was very much my wet dream come true.

My wet dream that did come true.

Yes, the beautiful blond-haired man with the deep green eyes, a white-toothed smile, and slightly crooked nose made me want to relive it all over again.

As the memory replayed in my mind, my body seared with heat as if it had been only a second ago that he had been buried deep between my legs, when it was over six weeks ago. The repercussion of my lie fit right in the space between.

“Mallory?” he said with that soft, husky tone, and I saw our night flash before his eyes, as I had relived it. I swear his smile turned up a hundred watts, which made this situation so much worse.

It would destroy him. Not because he was a bad guy, but because he was nice. Far too nice for this to fall on his shoulders when it was all my fault.

I had trapped him.

Suddenly, it became too much. So, what did I do?

I burst out crying.

Not even the pretty, cute sobs, either. No, it was the ugly, hard wheezing cries with snot pouring down my nose.

“Mallory?” he questioned in surprise as he strode out of the doorway and straight toward me. He grasped my biceps then rubbed up and down my arms, trying to calm me.

Because he was that nice.

I cried harder.

“Mallory, calm down,” he said with that soft, sweet voice. “What’s up?”

“I’m so sorry, Noble!” I mumbled, though I wasn’t sure he could understand through my wheezing and sobbing.

“I don’t understand.” Noble’s eyebrows pinched together as he looked me up and down, probably searching for a wound or anything that would clue him in on my breakdown.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” I cried, the conversation beginning to spin out of control. “I’m so stupid … I … fork in the microwave … So stupid … I’m sorry!”

His expression only became more baffled the longer I spoke until he finally decided he’d had enough.

“Mallory!” he snapped with an authoritative fire I had never heard before.

I snapped up straight, my spine stiffening like a board until I found myself looking him straight in the face as he leaned down to my height.

He gave a relieved sigh and brushed a strand of my messy red hair behind my ear. He curled his hand into a fist and, with the gentleness I adored, bumped it ever so softly under my chin, forcing my eyes up to his.

“There you are.” A relieved smile played on his lips. “Now, let’s try this again, shall we? What are you sorry for?”

I probably should have said it better, phrased it differently, but the verbal diarrhea was the only option, overriding my fear. “I’m pregnant.”

I could hear the walls of his life crumbling around him as he went still. His arms fell away from me, and I watched his black boots take one long stride back. The distance between us was suffocating.

“You said you were on birth control,” he accused, the natural warmth in his voice gone. It was now cold, detached, distant.

That was what it came down to. One itsy bitsy little lie that had spun so out of control it was like I was on a roller coaster, waiting for it to crash.

“I’m so sorry,” I spouted, fresh tears in my eyes.

What else was I supposed to say? I had lied so I could have him in a moment of lust inspired by a childhood crush. Now I had brought this upon him. A child was supposed to be a gift. However, a man who was as wild and free as him, it would hold him back … Trap him.

“You lied to me?” Gone was the cold, detached voice, and in came the furious betrayal and anger.

“I didn’t mean to … I-I just …” I had never been good with people getting angry at me. I submitted after the first five minutes to avoid conflict. But this? This was ten times worse because it was all my fault.

“Just, what!” he roared. “You’re like them, aren’t you?”

It didn’t take a genius to know who he was talking about—those girls I never wanted to be. The ones who trap men like I was trapping him.

“You wanted to cage me, didn’t you?” His voice was harsh like a whip, lashing against my soul and leaving an agonizing burn wherever it touched. “You wanted me all to yourself, like everybody else.”

“No!” I wailed. “It wasn’t like that.”