Explicit: A Novel

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Explicit: A Novel Page 14

by Ava Harrison


  “Shhh. Lindsey, what’s wrong?”

  “My dad doesn’t love me,” I cry, suddenly feeling foolish and ridiculous. But I can’t help that I’m breaking right here in Pierce’s arms.

  “What did he do?” His voice turns from worried to lethal.

  “I called him to talk about the idea for the school, but he didn’t answer. And instead of calling me back, he deposited money in my account.”

  “Buying you off,” he growls under his breath, knowing far too well what that is. Moving to push away as embarrassment sets in from my outburst, he doesn’t let go. “Let me hold you,” he says, and I do. I let him in this moment. I need Pierce’s strong arms, and I need to not be alone.

  After my tears stop, I move to step away, but instead, Pierce keeps his arms around me. I look up to see what he’s doing. Our eyes lock. We stand there, so close and frozen in place. The air crackling around is filled with tension. He moves closer to me, and I notice the green in his irises has disappeared, hidden behind larger black pupils. His body is so close to mine I can feel his chest expand with every breath he takes. He leans in, his mouth hovering over mine.

  “We cannot do this,” I whisper.

  His mouth curls into a sinful smile. “We can.” His words tickle my mouth, making my lids flutter shut at the sensation. Like a dream, his lips press against mine, softly, a whisper, as if it never happened, and a part of me fears if I open my eyes it didn’t.

  But a bigger part of me fears it did.

  My lips part of their own accord, eliciting a groan from Pierce as his tongue presses into my mouth, moving slowly but with an urgency of wanting I have never experienced before. The kiss deepens until I’m dizzy. Until I’m confused. Until I no longer know why I’m pushing him away, but I am. Regardless of what my treacherous body wants, my hands have a mind of their own.

  “We shouldn’t have.”

  “Yeah, we should have.” He smirks.

  “Pierce.” I step back, putting distance between us. “We’re supposed to be friends. Friends don’t kiss.”

  “Fine, friends don’t kiss.” He smiles, but I can tell this isn’t over, and that scares me. Because we can’t be more than just friends.

  Can we?

  By the time I arrive home, I’ve calmed down about the deposit. It’s not the first time my father has tried to buy me off, and quite frankly, I don’t blame him. The only times I’ve called him in the past was when I wanted something, and those requests typically came with a large price tag. He was just getting a jumpstart.

  The sad part is I was so looking forward to sharing my idea with him. I want him to know I’m no longer just sitting around collecting his paychecks. I found my purpose and I want to try again. And I want to work really hard to achieve it.

  Sitting on my couch, I decide I need to do something about my father. I need to get through to him. I need him to understand me and see me. I won’t be able to take this rejection again. Not if I want to keep my resolve and stay healthy. How easy it would be to fall back on my old ways.

  I’m so thankful I found Pierce.

  I’m so thankful for the way he held me, calmed me, took care of me.

  After everything Pierce did for me, I have to admit my walls are crumbling fast. I find myself itching to be around him.

  To kiss him again.

  No. Just to talk.

  It’s more than that, though. In a short time, he’s become a confidant, and I desperately need him tonight. I pick up my phone and send a quick text.

  Me: Dinner at my place?

  I sit here nervously twitching, watching the phone like a hawk, until I see the three little dots in a bubble, indicating he’s writing back. I wait with bated breath until the words appear.

  Pierce: On my way now. Better be good . . . JK!

  I laugh. He knows me too well. At my house, it’s always some sort of takeout, and tonight is no different. I want my form of comfort food, which includes extra cheese and pepperoni with a side of cheese sticks. I pull up the local pizza place in my contacts, place an order, and sit back and wait.

  Why did I think this was a good idea? Asking him to come over for dinner is probably the dumbest idea I’ve ever had. We’re in this weird limbo now where we’re not really friends and we’re certainly not dating.

  So what are we?

  And why are we doing this?

  Because you want him, the voice inside me screams again and I try to shoo it away, but I can’t.

  I want him. I do. No matter how much I try to pretend that kiss meant nothing or that what’s going on between us meant nothing. It does mean something. He’s funny, smart, talented . . .

  I’m fucked.

  I shouldn’t have invited him over. That’s for sure. With a death grip, I hold my phone in my hand and think of how I can retract my invite only a minute after sending it.

  Hey, Just kidding. I’m too scared to be alone with you now that I’ve realized that I like you, like really like you . . .

  Nope, that won’t work.

  Maybe he’ll come to his senses. I stare down at my phone, willing it to ring.

  It’s fine. Everything will be fine. Just friends having dinner. Oh my God, why am I so nervous? It’s just Pierce.

  Who are you trying to kid? It’s not just Pierce.

  Twenty minutes later, there’s a knock on my door. Swinging it open, my breath hitches. Pierce in a navy-blue Henley, jeans, and tennis shoes, has my mouth practically watering. Pierce doesn’t need to go all out to impress. He is magnificent. I step aside, ushering him in.

  “So, what’s on the menu tonight?”

  “Pizza,” I say with a shrug.

  “Seriously?”

  “Is that okay?” I suddenly feel self-conscious. Maybe he doesn’t like pizza. I never thought to ask. Or maybe he’s disappointed after all the effort he put in the other night.

  “Pizza is awesome. I’ve been craving it.”

  I bite my lip, happy that something so small can make him so happy. It’s funny. In our pasts, pizza would not have happened with the friends we kept. Late night parties, yes . . . but a casual night with the most excitement being what toppings to order on our takeout, not so much. Our lifestyles were so different then. These days, the little things truly make us happier than all the extravagant parties and restaurants from our previous lives. At least that’s true for me. But I think the same could be said for Pierce. And even though I live in a condo that costs more per month than most people make in five years—and is paid for by my father—we’re just two normal people trying to make something of ourselves.

  “I have something for you,” I say, shuffling my feet. When I got home, I’d wanted to dive into something, anything, to take my mind off my dad. I have plenty of things I could still work on with my own center, but I wanted to do something for Pierce.

  “I did some research and found information on how to start selling your work. I pulled up a directory of all the galleries, different agents, anything I could find. It’s sitting in a manila folder on my desk. Let me grab it,” I say, walking over to the desk. I grab the folder from its current place and hold it against my chest before I extend it out to him.

  He looks at the manila folder questioningly before taking it. His smile tells me he appreciates the gesture. Whether he plans to actually follow up on any of it or not is the million-dollar question. “This is really cool of you. Thanks for doing this.”

  I shrug. “It was no big deal. I really think you need to do something with your art.”

  “I’ll look through this later and see what I can find.” He pulls me into a hug. I squeeze back.

  Ten minutes later the pizza is here and we dive in, each piling our plates high, not caring about looking like gluttonous pigs in front of the other. This is what’s so great. I don’t have to be anyone else in front of Pierce. The front I put on for years can be dropped and I can just be me—a silly, insecure, lonely girl.

  After we eat, we sidle up next to each other on t
he couch, browsing Netflix. “What’s it going to be?”

  “You pick,” he says, sounding close to sleep.

  I surf through until I find a good rom-com. Just when I think Pierce is conked out, he puts his arm around me. I’m sitting too close to him for my own good, the smell of his aftershave doing things to me it shouldn’t. As the movie progresses, a sexually charged scene comes on and I cannot stop squirming.

  “Lindsey,” he whispers in my ear. “I thought you wanted to be just friends. You really should move your hand away from my leg. Unless . . .” There’s mischief in his voice.

  I look down and notice my hand is awfully close to him. My cheeks heat as my fingers brush against the material of his pants. Looking up, our eyes connect, and his darken. Of all the reasons we shouldn’t, I can’t think of one of them right now. So, without a second thought, I lean up.

  “Friendship is overrated.” I crush my lips to his.

  He kisses me with an intensity I’ve never felt before, like the world begins and ends with me. Like I’m everything, and with each caress of his mouth against mine, I believe it.

  He draws my tongue deeper into his mouth, and I lose myself completely. This is more than a kiss. This is him taking possession of all that I am, all that I want, all that I feel, and I let him chase away all rational thoughts. Allowing him to own me with the heat of his mouth on mine, until we collide in a frenzy of passion lighting a fuse that makes us both burn.

  We’re a fury of hands and legs as we seal our lips together. We can’t get enough.

  His tongue sweeps inside my mouth.

  His teeth nip at my lower lip.

  I moan at the roughness of his kiss. If possible, as the seconds pass, each of us grows hungrier until we finally pull apart, both out of breath and panting for more. I look at him. My heart hammers in my chest at what I want.

  I want him in my mouth.

  The thought shocks me, but everything about this encounter is shocking. Moving down, I position myself between his thighs and then peer up at him. There’s a slight ache in my leg from the position, but not enough to stop my need to do this.

  “What are you doing?” He hisses at the sound of his zipper being lowered. A primal groan emanates through the room as my fingers pull him out.

  “Playing,” I respond. I’m met with a chuckle.

  “Have at it.” He leans back, giving me better access.

  With my right hand, I grasp his hard length. His hips jut forward, his body quivering beneath. Feeling him come undone has me acting adventurous and wanton. Now in my mouth, I pick up the tempo of my hand, stroking his base even faster, all while licking and sucking the tip. After a few minutes, I feel Pierce try to pull out of my mouth, but the desire to taste him, all of him, has me holding steady until he finds his release. Once he’s done, I move to get up, but his right hand reaches down and stops me.

  “And where do you think you’re going?” His voice is raspy as he brackets his arms around me. Tightening his grip, he pulls me toward him and I fall onto his torso. “My turn,” he grates, and who am I to object?

  He flips me over and hovers above me. Lifting my shirt, his rough hands trail patterns on my skin, starting at my navel and working downward, unzipping my pants and then pulling them down far enough around my knees so he traps me within them like a rope, but at the same time, I have enough wiggle room to spread my legs.

  My thighs part in offering, begging him to feast on me. There’s a look in Pierce’s eyes I’ve never seen before. Hunger. Desperation. He exhales against me, his breath tickling my flesh. The feel of his tongue is next, lapping away at my damp skin. With each swipe of his tongue, he tightens his hold around me. Soon I’m soaring over the edge, rising to a crescendo until I’m shaking and convulsing and finding bliss.

  We lie quietly, slowly coming back from heaven. After a minute, I sigh contentedly. “That was amazing.”

  “It was.”

  “So, you know this changes everything,” he says with an impassive shrug.

  “Why? What do you mean?” My words come out too fast and it makes him laugh.

  “I don’t want to share you,” he replies.

  “I think I should be more concerned about you. No one wants me.”

  “You really think that? You have no idea how men look at you, do you?” The confusion in his voice is evident. He really doesn’t understand. But he hasn’t seen my marks. The lights are always off. He can’t see how damaged I am. He has no idea the looks I got right after it happened. How I thought it would be okay to bare my leg in a short skirt that first fall and the gawks I received because I did. I vowed never to make that mistake again.

  “I used to.”

  “Well, it’s true, they all want you, and I don’t want to share.” His voice takes on a possessive tone and I roll my eyes at him. He’s being ridiculous.

  “So, what does that mean?”

  “I want to see where this goes. Let’s give this a try.”

  His words take me aback. There’s no way Pierce would want to be in a relationship with me, is there? All those years he never wanted me, now he does? It makes no sense. Unless . . .

  Unless all he wants is sex.

  By the way he stares at me, it’s not just sex he’s asking for and I swear my heart starts to pound rapidly in my chest as if I’m about to go into cardiac arrest. Pierce Lancaster wants to be with me. As the idea takes root inside me, so does the pitter-patter against my breastbone.

  I want this.

  I want him.

  But can I trust him enough? Or will he break me more than I’m already broken?

  “I don’t know if I can. Right now you’re clean, but I can’t be with you—”

  “I won’t let you down.”

  He says it, and he means it, but for how long?

  How long before he sees me, all of me, and realizes I’m not enough?

  Regardless of the doubt that lingers in my bloodstream, I’m still walking around on cloud nine from last night. Our relationship—if you can call it that—has moved to the next level. I thought at this point I’d be kicking myself for caving, but honestly, every day he surprises me more. I have a perma-smile on my face as I walk through the halls of the Polaris Boys Club.

  Rounding the corner, I almost collide with Xavier. When I step back, I gasp. His eye is black and blue and swollen shut. My hands come to my mouth. “What happened?” I question, fearing I already know the answer.

  Xavier averts his gaze. “N-Nothing, Miss Lindsey. I-I fell.”

  “Bullshit.”

  I don’t even care about my language. Now he’s lying to me? Does he think I don’t know? He turns to walk away, but I grab his arm. In the process, his sleeve lifts up, and I see cuts lining his arm. I pull him back toward me, push up his sleeve farther, and anger seeps into my bloodstream. Whoever did this to him, I’m going to find them. I don’t care what part of the hood they’re in.

  “Don’t lie to me. Tell me why this happened.”

  “I can’t,” he whispers.

  I step closer, until I’m standing directly in front of him, and his gaze drops to the floor.

  “I can’t tell you, Miss Lindsey. Please don’t make me.”

  “To protect you I need to know.”

  “I promise, I’m fine.”

  “I know you aren’t telling me the truth. Please talk to me. You can trust me.”

  “But can I? Will you tell Carson? Will you tell Pierce? Because unless you promise me . . .”

  “You know I can’t do that. Xavier, if you’re in trouble, if you are being harmed, I’m legally bound to report it. If I don’t and something happens . . .” My words trail off. If something happens to him, it wouldn’t matter if I got in trouble. All that matters is I failed him. And I’d never forgive myself for that.

  “Fine,” he says, sounding completely defeated. “I was wrong to think I meant something more than your rules. You’re just like everyone else,” he fires back, anger and frustration evident in
his voice.

  I know I shouldn’t. I know that if anyone finds out, I will lose my job and worse, I know if something goes wrong, the consequences of my actions are limitless, but hearing the desperation and the torment in his voice is too much for me, because before I can stop myself the words spill out of my mouth.

  “Tell me. I promise I won’t tell. Tell me who did this and what is going on. You can trust me. I’ll help you . . . no matter what.”

  “My brother,” he admits. “He owes a gang fifty thousand dollars, and this is their warning. He has a week to come up with the money, or else they’re coming for me.”

  I drop his arm. My hand comes to my forehead, and I begin pacing, all the while envisioning the million ways I can find these pathetic cowards and make them pay. And then it hits me: my dad has just sent me a sum of money I don’t need.

  I turn back to Xavier. “I have the money. I’ll make the payment. You let the idiots know.” And with that, I sealed the last nail to my coffin. If anyone finds out, my dreams of helping children, my dreams of a boarding school are done.

  He begins to cry, and my anger turns to concern for him. He’s such a strong, proud kid. I know how hard this has to be for him to show weakness in front of me. I pull him into my arms.

  “Shh, it’s okay,” I coo to get him to calm down. “I’ve got you. I’ll take care of this, I promise.” I mean every word of it. Financially speaking, I will help him. I would help any of these boys.

  He steps back, wiping a tear roughly from his eyes. “I can’t have you do this, Miss Lindsey. It’s not fair to you.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “And it’s fair that you’re getting dragged into this? It’s fair that your brother has put you in this position? No. You have a future, Xavier. You can make something of yourself. I don’t care what your brother got into, but you’re not following his path. You’re going on with your life, and you’re going to prove that you are not him. Do you understand me?”

  He nods.

  “That’s all I want. I don’t want you to repay me. I don’t want you to thank me. I want you to prove to me I didn’t make a mistake by helping you out. Promise me you’ll work harder and you’ll make something of yourself.”

 

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