Just a Little Honesty Read Online Free PDF Page B

and that only made me more and more curious as to what it could’ve been. I’d never known Luke to focus his attention on something for so long, especially if it wasn’t worth his time. So, based on the way he kept his head low for hours, I knew it must’ve been something important. I watched him for a while, but the results of my efforts were inconclusive. I couldn’t quite tell what it said or what it was—only that it was a book—but I studied him from the second-story loft nonetheless.
    Sometime after nine, I retreated to my bed at the far end of the second floor. I pulled the old sheets and quilt back, did a thorough check for bugs, snakes, or anything else that could eat me in my sleep, and finally climbed inside. I heard Luke come up the stairs four or five times over the next few hours, but he only seemed to stick around long enough to make sure I hadn’t gone missing.
    Falling asleep hadn’t been easy, but when I finally managed to drift off, I slept like a rock. It wasn’t until the next morning that my eyes snapped open, and I realized that I’d made it through my first night in Luke’s so-called “safe house.”
    I heard the faint sound of running water downstairs, and I rolled out of bed sometime just after eight. I walked groggily across the floor, wiping the sleep from my still-tired eyes. My clothes were wrinkled and disheveled from a long night of sleep, and there was no doubt that my hair looked exactly the same.
    Before I could take the first step on the staircase to retreat to the first floor, the running water trickled slower and eventually stopped. Only moments after the sound vanished, the bathroom door creaked open. I stopped walking once I reached the loft balcony and watched as Luke returned to the living room—freshly showered, shirtless, and wearing nothing but a long towel on his hips.
    He hadn’t seemed to notice that I was awake, or else he probably would’ve said something. He simply leaned over his suitcase—which sat on the couch—and worked the zipper to open the lid. In all the time that he went through his belongings, he kept his head low and his eyes fixed on the task at hand. If Luke had any indication that I was watching him, he never once let on. But he stood there sifting through his folded clothes—practically naked and unashamed—and there wasn’t a thing I could do to tear my eyes away from his still-wet body. 
    I’d experienced my first crush back in September when I met Luke at the Oakland PD. After weeks of working side-by-side and spending time together, I finally learned what it meant to truly love another person. But it wasn’t until that moment—watching him stand only feet away wearing nothing but a towel—that I finally understood the concept of lust. I found myself staring at him the way I’d seen so many of my female classmates stare at Matt. If my jaw could’ve hit the floor, no doubt it would’ve been resting contently on the cold, hard wood beneath my feet.
    Still, I didn’t much care. I rather enjoyed watching him, so I kept on doing just that. I kept staring, guiltily putting my nose where it didn’t belong. Luke wasn’t mine to stare at; he hadn’t been for a long time.
    But still, something had me staring with overwhelming admiration.
    If Luke’s face was anything to brag about—and yes, yes it most certainly was—then I didn’t even know where to begin to describe his body. True, it had never been a secret that his shoulders were broad and strong, but there was just something about seeing them uncovered that made my muscles a little too tense. 
    I pressed my lips together to restrain a childish giggle as my gaze trailed down his legs and to his feet; it was the first time I’d seen his little piggies completely unmasked, and it was the first time I’d gotten to see the cold, hard proof of his accident at the shooting range. Just as he’d told me—not that I had ever doubted it—his right foot was missing one very critical