You tried to save me but it won't work this time

Lochlann swallowed.

"What if I lie?" he asked. "What if I tell you it, but I don't really mean it? Will that prove to you that I'm a monster?"

He reached up and ran his hand through his hair. His dark eyebrows furled. He wanted to roll onto his side to look at her in the worst way. He wanted to touch her again. He wanted her to touch him.

Fuck, more than anything, Lochlann wanted to rest his head on her lap and have her fingers work through his hair.

Lochlann swallowed.

That was only one step away from wanting to kiss her and with the way the acid was burning the back of his throat, that was only one or two or three hundred steps from walking literally into the lake.

Emily continued to save him from his thoughts.

Maybe she would leave him.

Was it bad how much he wanted her to leave him? It would almost be a relief. It would be a source to the pain that gnawed at his guts. Lochlann would at least know where it was coming from.

"Maybe that's exactly what happens then," Lochlann said. Now, he did roll onto his side. His heart was racing. He opened his eyes slowly.

The grey sky, the dull grass, the lake behind her.

He said, "Maybe I'm going to tell you I love you so I can sleep with you. But I won't mean it. I'll be thinking the entire time of how good you'll taste. Then, when it's over, that will be it. Would that be enough to have you believe me?"

He could already picture the way she tasted.

Emily stood up. Her hands worked over her dress and Lochlann followed each movement. He was thinking what it would be like to run his own hands over her dress. He was thinking what it would be like to run his hands over her dress, over her bare legs, over the rest of her body.

His mouth filled with saliva and he swallowed it.

No, there was no way he was going to be going to her house for dinner. Not in a million years.

Part of him thought, what would have happened if the three little pigs invited the wolf in for dinner? Maybe things would have gone differently.

Or, more likely, the wolf would have eaten three separate times. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

He liked when he said his name. he actually liked the nickname, too,but he would never in a thousand years openly admit to that.

He wanted her to say.

He almost said, "Emily."

He did say, "Emily."

But he had nothing to make her stay. Nothing safe. Nothing that would keep her away from the water's edge.

So he said, "Stay out of trouble, okay?"