Truth or Lies? by A. Gomez (books to get back into reading TXT) 📕

forearms to flex and the veins pop out. Holy shit! The enmity he must have for me, I could only imagine. I didn’t know what to think.

My heart was thumping louder. Tears started rolling down my cheeks. I raised my hand to touch his perfect face when he grabbed my wrist emphatically and twisted it. I said nothing; just continued to look at his beautiful face. He released it and grasped both my arms forcefully, staring into my eyes. I let out a soft cry, my expression twisting in response to the pain on my wounded arm. I deserved whatever pain I got for hurting him, I thought to myself. He loosened his grip and pulled me close into his chest, embracing me, burying his face in my neck. I hugged his neck and began to sob softly, getting his hair and neck wet with my tears. He held me closer and tighter, so tight it was hard to breathe. I couldn’t believe I was here. I couldn’t believe I was in his arms again. Did this mean he didn’t hate me?

“Isabel,” he breathed. “Isabel, I didn’t know if I was ever going to see you again. Baby, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for not telling you everything.” His breathing was harsh. “You can’t ever leave me again, baby. I can’t live without you. I love you. I knew I loved you the minute I saw you step out of your car.” His voice was hoarse and cracking. “I knew then you had to be mine.”

I couldn’t stop sobbing to answer him. I wanted to tell him it was never his fault. I wanted to say I was stupid for not being more understanding but I couldn’t stop crying. I just held him tight, breathing in his scent. How could I miss him this much? Why did I want him so badly? What was this spell he had over me? I hardly knew him.

“Baby, you’re shaking. It’s okay. I’m oaky. You’re here now and that’s all that matters. Calm down. He let go of me so he could look at me. I gazed at him, drinking him in, touching his face, his lips, his stubble. I kissed him with fervor, still crying. He held me close, kissing me harder. Devouring me. I felt that electric zing racing through my body; the oh so familiar heat from that first morning with him on my sofa.

He pulled away, gazing at me and then began to kiss my tears away with his lips.

I blinked a few times and inhaled deeply. “Josh,” I began with a trembling voice. “Please forgive me. I should’ve stopped to listen to you. My pride and ego got in the way. I’m so sorry, my love.” I wrapped my arms around his neck again. He pulled me closer, holding me firmly against his chest. “Belín showed me everything. I know who those girls are. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be here. Say you’ll forgive me.”

“Baby, there is nothing to forgive. You’re here now. We’re together,” he replied, kissing the side of my neck. He paused briefly, pulling away to look at me, cocking his head to one side. “Did I just hear you say, ‘my love?’” he asked. “Yes, I believe you did say, ‘my love,’ to me,” he grinned. “Does that mean you love me?”

The tears stopped rolling down my cheeks. “Umm...” is all I could say, raising my eyebrows.

“It's okay, baby. I can wait,” he said with a grin. He kissed me, our tongues colliding, my breathing ragged, his hands running up my back and mine entangled in his hair. I finally stopped crying. “Josh,” I said as I pulled away. “Babe, stop. I have so many things to tell you and I’m running out of time.”

“I don’t want to stop,” he whispered, breathless. “I feel better with you in my arms.”

“Babe, that’s just it.” I grabbed his face to stop him. “I’m not supposed to be here and I’m not allowed to see you.”

He began to kiss my neck. “I already know that,” he said in between bites and kisses. “But you’re here. You made it happen.”

“There’s more I need to tell you, Josh, but you’re getting me all hot and bothered,” I pushed myself away. “I’m leaving for Dallas at the end of today.”

“I know that too. Now come back here.” He reached for my arm and pulled me to him.

“You do?” I was surprised.

“Baby, there’s nothing you can tell me that I don’t already know.” His hands were on my hips, squeezing me. He stroked my cheek with the back of his hand, stealing a chaste kiss in between my talking.

“Really? How?” I asked.

“Your mother,” he simply said. “Your wonderful, loving and considerate mother. She sent your brother and cousin bearing gifts and a belated birthday card.” Without letting me go, he reached for the tray table getting the card my mother sent him, his face contorting from the bullet wound pain on his side. “And by the way, you and your cousin could be twins. You two even have the same green eyes,” he added.

“That seems to be the consensus these days,” I said.

He handed me a large blue card. On the front in big, gold print it read “Happy Belated Birthday.” I opened it and there was my mother’s exquisite handwriting.

My Dear Sweet Boy,

I am so grateful for you and your valor. You took great care

of one of my greatest treasures on this earth, my little girl.

There is no way for me to repay what you have done for her

and our family. I know you care for Isabel Grace so I am giving

you my personal cell number. Please call me and I will be happy to talk to you about anything …within reason of course.

Yours, Dr. C. Langley

It looked like a cell