by Lindsey Hart
Anyway, I usually know what to do in situations like this. I was there for Rin when she almost didn’t go after Aiden. I gave her that push to follow her heart. I was there for Cassie when her cat died last year. We had to take him to the vet together. It was sad. I cried too. I was also there for her when we went to the shelter and picked out a rescue. An old, beat up, ancient, battle-scarred tabby. I was there when he got to Cassie’s house and slept in what was probably the first cat bed he’d ever slept in. He’s twelve years old. We both cried over that too.
There have been lots of moments. Sad. Happy.
But never like this.
Lucas’s in my bathroom. I can hear the water running. He literally just unburdened himself to me. To me. I have no idea why, but it happened. It happened, and now Lucas is upset. He’s really upset, obviously, and I, for once, have no idea what to do. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to make him feel better. I’m pretty sure nothing will make him feel better. I feel helpless, and I don’t like that. I’ve spent a huge portion of my life trying not to be helpless. I’ve had to rely on myself, pretty much grow up by myself. Raise myself. I’ve built up a thick skin. An impenetrable skin. And now…
Now, I feel pretty bad too.
Lucas got under that skin. It wasn’t thick enough to keep him out. His wounds wounded me, and now I’m sitting here, hurting for him. Hurting because he’s hurting. I don’t think that’s pity. I don’t really know what it is.
The tap shuts off, and a few seconds later, the bathroom door creaks open. I scramble to compose myself. I swipe at my cheeks, alarmed to find them wet. I wipe the moisture away on my dress, and I sit up a little straighter, gripping the folder, twisting the edges in my damp palms.
“Christ.” Lucas clears his throat. “This was not the way I wanted to start this off.”
He’s suddenly right there. Deliciously broad. Gorgeously masculine. He smells good. This time, it’s not my body reacting, though. I notice those usual, superficial things about him, but when I look at him now, I feel like I’m truly seeing him. For the first time ever. Not just as this guy who I’ve kind of always wanted, at least physically, but as a person who is hurting. A person who has a real past, a real present, and a very real future. One who has dreams. Goals. Passions. I guess I always thought of him in this one-dimensional way. A wave of shame washes over me because now, he’s not one dimensional. He’s very, very, 3D.
“Are you—were you—crying?” His lips part, like he’s surprised. His eyes flash. They’re green. And a little red-rimmed. He’s looking at me. Seeing me. Staring down into me, into all those parts I’ve kept filed away under never fucking show to anyone, ever. He’s seeing me. He’s seeing me in 3D. “God. I’m sorry. You were. I can tell. Your makeup is messed up. I can see the tear tracks. I’m sorry, Aria. I don’t know why I blurted that out. Can we just go over the folder?” He sounds tired. Really tired.
I feel tired too.
Tired of being this person that I’m not. Being one thing for the rest of the world to protect who I really am. I’m tired of the walls and the games. I’m tired of acting when I’m not a very good actress at all. I’m just…exhausted.
I set the folder aside on the coffee table by Lucas’s forgotten smoothie. It’s condensing all over the glass, making a real mess. I couldn’t care less. I’m actually not that fussy about stuff. Stuff is just stuff.
“Can I tell you something?” My tongue is getting away from me. Running ahead of me, but I can’t stop it. I turn to Lucas and look into his beautiful green eyes. I feel like I need to tell him something, something intimate and personal. Something no one really knows about me. To make us even. Maybe it will even make him feel better. That matters to me. That he doesn’t feel like shit. That I might be able to do something to help, even if it’s just something infinitesimally small.
“I’m not going to stop you. You’re paying me, after all.” Lucas gives me this shadowy, small, lost smile to soften those words. He sits down on the couch, hard, as far away from me as the couch allows him to get.
“Thanks. You’re just marginally less expensive than most therapists.”
“So, you’re going to unburden yourself, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I’m terribly burdened.” I sigh, feigning boredom. Thank goodness we seem to be slowly going back to our normal selves. “I suppose, since my therapist is busy, you’ll have to do. I’ve already promised you the money, so I’m afraid you’ll have to do this for free.”
“I guess you should receive a few perks for that very outlandish fee you decided to pay me.”
“It’s a business write off. The company needs it.”
“And here I thought it was coming from the goodness of your heart.”
Lucas actually stays silent, though a slight smile plays over his lips. I love his lips. I’ve had this fixation with his mouth over the years. It’s a beautiful mouth. A perfect mouth. I’ve often wondered what he’d taste like. I find myself thinking about that now, though I’m willing to guess it would be a little bit like kiwis, strawberries, and bananas. You can’t actually taste the avocado or the kale I put in the smoothie. The fruit drowns it out.
“Well, here it goes. As well as having a Master’s that I’ve kept hidden from the masses and my closest friends, I also like to—shock of all shocks—read. Yes, I like to read.”
“That is shocking. I wasn’t aware you were literate.” Lucas’s lips twitch again. My lips twitch too. Mostly because they want, very much, to slide over a few inches and attach to his like a magnet. Or a suckerfish. Or a leach. Something that has a strong force behind it.
“When I was a kid, I actually dreamed about opening my own bookstore. Used books, if you can imagine that. I never told anyone. My parents would have been horrified. Used? We didn’t do used. It’s even funnier to think that I would have told my parents anything. I never did. I hardly saw them. My dad was too busy chasing after barely legal skirts, and my mom was always humping whatever leg she could find, also barely legal. I don’t even know why they stayed married. Or how they actually had me. I look like both of them. Kind of. Did you know that? So, I know they must have had sex with each other at least once. Anyway, you told me something sad. I told you something back. Although that wasn’t really sad. It’s just another dark style confession that no one knows about me. Not Rin. Not Cassie. I’m sure they also think I’m basically illiterate.”
Lucas is silent for a minute before he shakes his head. He runs a hand through his lush, mahogany hair. The sun is shining through all the windows, and those strands he just mused all over the place glows gold.
“Thanks. You know, for the smoothie. Sorry that so far, I’ve done nothing but puke, verbally and otherwise, in front of you and behave like an asshole.”
“I’m sorry, are you—are you actually apologizing? Like? For real? The Lucas Dawson is trying to be…nice to me?”
“Maybe you’re not who I thought you were. Maybe you’re just mostly who I thought you were. Ninety-eight percent horrible, spoiled, unfeeling, uncaring, and evil but beautiful brat with two percent redeeming qualities.”
My heart flutters wildly. My pulse kicks up. I’m used to the elevated beat whenever Lucas is around, but it’s really kicking now. I can feel it vibrating just below my chin. I can even feel the blood racing at my wrists like I just sprinted for miles and suddenly stopped to catch my breath. Except that I can’t. I can’t seem to catch it.
Because Lucas is looking at me.
He’s looking at me like he really sees me. Again.
“Awww, thanks,” I force out. My voice is wrong. Too thin. Too quiet. Not as carefree and flirty as it should be. “You think I’m beautiful?”
“Out of all that stuff,” Lucas says, obviously amused. “I can’t believe that’s what you picked out.”
“That and the fact I have two percent redeeming qualities. Two percent, in some worlds, can be a big jump. It can make all the difference.”
There’s a pause. A l
oaded silence. A heartbeat. And another. I don’t know who moves first. Me? Lucas? I don’t know if it even matters. Because suddenly, suddenly…we’re coming together. Crashing. Crashing like opposing forces. Brutal tides. Two polar opposites who are beating the odds and defying things like actual fucking science and gravity.
And his lips? They do taste like kiwi, banana, and strawberry, but they’re so much better than the smoothie I made us.
CHAPTER 9
Lucas
I’m kissing my arch enemy. My sister’s best friend. I’ve always kind of privately promised myself that if Aria Watson was the last woman in the world…right. Well, obviously, I’ve lost my mind.
Because we’re sucking each other’s lips. Our teeth are clashing together. She’s licking my tongue. I’m licking hers back. We’re repeating it over and over again. Throw in a nip here, a scrape of my teeth there.
Her hands claw at my shirt. “Get this off,” she command-whimpers against my lips.
“We shouldn’t do this.” I work the shirt off anyway.
“No, we definitely shouldn’t.” Her hands start at my waist and trail upwards, creating blazing trails of fire. I jerk and inhale sharply. My abs contract beneath her fingertips. She sighs. In that pleasant—she likes what she’s feeling—sort of way.
“I don’t even like you,” I inform her, biting down gently on her bottom lip.
“I don’t like you either,” she sighs, her fingers skimming over my pecs, running along my nipple.
Hello, nipple. Why the hell did I never realize that you being touched feels really fucking incredible? “You’re paying me for a job. We’re supposed to be working. Are you technically paying me for this?”
“Does it matter?”
“It probably should.”
“Does it?” Those amazing, beautiful, delicate fingers skim over my jawline and upwards to tangle in my hair. She pulls until my scalp burns. It’s delicious.
“No.”
Aria’s tongue swirls over my lips while she’s tugging my hair. The combination feels a little like she’s tugging on other places. Namely, my balls. “We can’t tell anyone about this.”
“We can never repeat this.” There’s a difference there. One time can be a mistake. It can be a lapse of judgment. It’s a lesser crime. Not pre-meditated. We can blame it on the absence of judgment. On a mutual spilling of sad things that made us both vulnerable, sensitive, and irrationally needy.
“This is just one time. Clothes on.”
“Half of my clothes are already off.” I ended up on top in this, and I can’t help but press my hips down as Aria drags my face back to hers. She kisses me deeply, bucking her hips up right into my denim-clad bulge. It’s pressing into her waist. Not in the right spot at all. She squirms beneath me, trying to get herself in a better position. Feeling her below me, curvy and lithe, sweet and delicious, makes my cock throb. Still. I keep the bastard away from her, throbbing against her stomach.
“You have a nice chest,” Aria whispers near my ear before she swirls her tongue over the upper part.
I don’t even know what that part is called…but hello, mystery part of my ear. I didn’t realize that could feel good either. She flicks her tongue lower before sucking my lobe between her teeth, gently grazing over them. Hello, lobe. I didn’t realize any of these parts could feel like this. This good.
“You have nice ears.” She sweeps her face back to mine, kissing my cheeks, my nose, my jaw. I nearly explode in my pants. What she’s doing is pretty G-rated as far as this goes. I should not be ready to blow my load here. “You have a nice face.” Her hands drop from my hair and sweep over my shoulders, down my back. She sets one on my waist and trails the other over my ass. “You have a nice everything.”
“Did you just… grab my ass?”
“I most certainly did,” she purrs against my ear. “Would you like to return the favor?”
Christ. Yes. Yes, I would. I would very much like to grab her ass.
I twist a little, so I can see her palm there. She shifts, burying her hand in the back pocket of my jeans. I get an eyeful of her heels, which she is still wearing. My dick kicks. Hard. I want those heels wrapped around my waist, digging through my jeans, right where her hand is.
“Well, we could just—you know, do some heavy petting. That’s not so bad, is it?”
“Who the hell named it that?”
“I don’t know—oh my god, yes. Heavy pet me there. No, not there. Yes! There.”
I just brought my hand between us to Aria’s hip. I do return the favor, pushing up her dress and sliding my hand along the sweet contour of her ass, over the top of the lace panties she has on. I’m pretty sure just that one touch nearly kills me. Bright lights dance behind my eyes, and I make a moan that sounds like a dying goat.
“Do you know where the clitoris is?” Aria pants near my ear.
“Of course. What do you take me for?”
“Then you should heavy pet me there. If, you know, you can manage to find it.” Her fingers curl into my ass muscles, and she digs her nails in through the denim. Her hips swivel at the same time in some unbelievably athletic feat of coordination. Without a single touch of her own, she manages to position my hand pretty close to where she wants it.
“If my clit was a mountain, you wouldn’t be able to find it,” she goads me. “If my clit was an entire country, and you lived there, you wouldn’t know where it was. If you were staring my clit in the face, you wouldn’t—oh. Oh…oh my god. Jesus, Lucas…no. No…you still haven’t…that’s not quite right—ooooohhh, nope. Still—not—just…if my clittttt…Lucas, yes. Please. More…”
My fingers work deftly over the soft lace. She’s wet. Deliciously wet. She’s also deliciously soft and smooth. Probably goes for those two hundred dollar waxes twice a month, whether she needs them or not. As much as I don’t want to admit it, she’s perfect.
I lift my hand away from the clit I most definitely didn’t find, according to Aria at any rate, and, as she’s watching me, I insert one finger into my mouth. I lick it clean, popping it out with an exaggerated slurp at the end. Aria’s eyes go wide and heady.
“I think we can still have some fun with all of our clothes on. If that’s the gauntlet that you threw down.”
“I—er—arghlhllpweriasslkdfhslh.” Yeah. What Aria mumbles doesn’t make any sense at all.
She practically melts into the couch when she understands what I’m going to do. She doesn’t stop me. I don’t stop myself. My cock gives me a fist punch and a salute while trying to break my zipper.
Aria’s dress is already pushed up around her hips. Lord. Now that I take a minute to look at her, my cock does more than just try and burst open my zipper. My balls clench up, and I realize how close I am to doing something I’ve never done before.
I ignore the furious reaction going on in my pants and focus on Aria. I drink in the sight of her. Shapely legs, smooth skin, red lace panties. I barely suppress a groan. Of course, they’re red. They’re full lace boy shorts, the style that covers more than what most panties would. I bring my face close, and I can practically feel the heat radiating from her.
I exhale longingly, and Aria’s hips buckle at the feel of it. God. She’s so responsive. So sensitive. So perfect. She smells amazing. Fresh, yet still feminine. I bring my face close and shut my eyes. I know the first taste is going to be like tumbling down some crazy hole and ending up in paradise. My cock kicks hard. Again. My balls feel like they’ve just been ball punched. Aria’s breaths get louder.
I haven’t even touched her yet. Still haven’t touched her. Haven’t tasted her. I don’t know what the hell I’m waiting for, and apparently, Aria doesn’t either.
“Here. Let me help you find it.” She weaves her fingers through my hair and drags my face the rest of the way. “There. It’s right…oh my god.”
“Here?”
“No. No, I don’t think you’ve…fricking frick sticks…nope. Not even—holy cheese and crackers—are you
blind? You couldn’t find my clit with a map, son of a biscuit with gravy…you are so lost that you’ll never—oh. Oh…” Her crazy stampede of words trails off.
Aria, for once, is silent.
Her breathing gets shallow, and then she starts to pant.
She does indeed taste like paradise. Think about the thirstiest you’ve ever been. How you’d give anything for that one drop of water. Just one. Then, you finally get a drink, and that cool, delicious water flows down your parched throat. It’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted. The best thing you’ll ever taste. That’s what she’s like.
I don’t stop. Because I can’t. I’m parched. Parched, and she’s my tall glass of ice-cold water. I devour her through her panties. She’s soaked, and I lap her up. I trail my tongue in lazy sweeps from her clit to her entrance and back. Despite her protests, I do find it. Every single time I press my tongue against her clit, Aria nearly rockets off the couch. She grinds against my mouth, rocking her hips into my touch. I want to shove her panties aside and taste her fully. Want to put my tongue—
Aria’s breathing changes. Those little pants stop altogether, and she goes rigid under my mouth. Her legs tremble. Her tight, flat belly trembles. She’s utterly silent and utterly still, except for the muscle twitches that give away what’s happening. She’s wet. So wet and warm and perfect against my mouth. My lips. My chin.
Holy. Shit.
I just made my little sister’s annoying, know it all, stuck up, hoity-toity princess of a best friend come.
CHAPTER 10
Aria
Shit. Fucking shit stickers. I just came.
On. Lucas’s. Face. On his beautiful, delicious, masculine, talented face.
I can tell when he freezes and raises his head slowly that he knows too. I didn’t make a sound, but yeah, it’s pretty obvious what just happened.
