OVERCAST (B723 Book 1)

by Hazel Grace

  Hopping from the truck, Marty extends his hand to me, already waiting to walk inside.

  As soon as the door opens, the pristine white cabinets and countertops of the kitchen glisten off the lighting from the three skylight windows and the massive ones around the sides. The living room adjoins it, with a flat-screen TV over a stone fireplace, a gray sectional that matches the darker hardwood floors. Freshly cut flowers sit on the coffee table and the kitchen island, giving it a homey feel. Especially with the sliding door that leads outside, giving me a full view of the lake and swing overlooking it.

  “Oh my gosh,” I awe, soaking in every inch of the place. “This place is gorgeous.”

  “Found it online,” he replies, stepping in behind me and wrapping his arms around my middle. “And you know I had to find a lake for us to swim in.”

  I smirk, admiring the small dining table made of wood with a glossy finish. “Good choice.”

  “Which means we should get naked right now and go for a swim.” Craning my neck, I’m met with mischievous hazel eyes that pricks deliciously at my skin.

  “You’re bad.”

  He bends closer, lips brushing against my temple. “You’ve known that from the beginning, sweetheart. Now I can’t stop thinking about all the misbehaving you and I can do since we’re finally alone.”

  I lean into him, meshing our bodies together and indulge in how comfortable he feels against me. How I’m beyond elated that we got to do this and that he wanted me all to himself for a few days.

  “Is that why you brought me here?” I ask.

  “That and because I can watch you walk around naked.” I turn in his hold, pressing my chest into his and tilting my chin upward. His grip tightens possessively around me, studying my face for something. “You have to know by now.”

  “Know what?”

  “That I have a hard and very serious case of fixation when it comes to you. And I never want to let you go.”

  Then don’t.

  It’s at the tip of my tongue, but it’s hard for me to decipher the true meaning behind his words.

  Is his fixation purely temporary, or is it more?

  Where do we really lie?

  He has his own world, one that lies underneath what normal people see on a day to day.

  I’m something that can’t go that deep.

  An outsider that painfully sticks out and reminds him that we’re not the same.

  I prefer living in a bubble of, what he’d probably call, rainbows and butterflies, and he craves to bring justice in whatever means necessary, which includes death.

  No matter where we came from, I feel as though he’ll always believe I’m judging him. When all I want to do is just be in his arms and breathe him in. To see him every day and take care of him however I can.

  I rise on my tiptoes and press a chaste kiss to his lips.

  We’ll talk about it.

  If I can get my vocal cords to express everything that has been transpiring through my heart.

  Marty and I ran into town to grab groceries, looking like teenagers in love because he wouldn’t stop grabbing my ass in the store, and I couldn’t stop laughing through the aisles.

  People stared, a middle-aged woman rolled her eyes at us, but it didn’t bother me. I never got this. To stroll around without a care in the world, aimlessly walking around to shop and spend time with a guy.

  It made me feel special.

  Normal.

  When we got back, Marty and I swam again, watching the sunset over the treeline on the other side of the lake. Then sat on the wooden swing as the stars began to protrude through the darkening sky.

  I must’ve fallen asleep because I awaken to Marty gently lying me into the queen-sized bed that also has a sliding door overseeing the scenery outside.

  The moment his arm pulls out from underneath my body, I wrap my arms around his neck, keeping him and his scent close to me.

  “Don’t leave,” I mutter as he lays on his side next to me. “Marty?”

  “Mhm?”

  “I love it here. Thank you for bringing me.”

  “Anything for you, sweetheart.” His sentiment warms my chest as my fingers toy with his hair, massaging, and just because I want to touch him whenever I can.

  “Marty?”

  “Yeah, baby.” My heart slams into my ribcage, cautioning me to be careful. His hand that roams down my side carelessly sends tingles and emotions rumbling through my body, ping-ponging everywhere.

  Grabbing the hem of my shirt, I expose my naked torso, which he immediately goes to graze and feel, the callous tips of his skin sending a blanket of lust coursing through me.

  My hand lands on his thigh, roaming upward until I feel the bulge in his jeans. It twitches once under my touch, getting Marty to release a harsh exhale through his lips.

  “Tell me what you want,” he hedges, lowering his hand between the apex of my legs. “You’ll get everything your little heart desires because you’ve got me fucked up.”

  I shake my head along my pillow. “No, I didn’t. I made you see things.”

  He tugs the fabric of my shorts. “I want to see more things, but your clothes are in my way.”

  “So are yours.”

  “Let’s remedy that situation. Take your shit off.” I begin removing my shorts as he sits up, doing the same with his shirt and working the button at his jeans.

  Within a minute, we’re both naked, and he’s positioned in between my legs, spreading them as far as he can.

  “You’re going to be the death of me,” he mutters before pressing his mouth to my inner thigh.

  “No teasing,” I whine.

  “Oh, you mean like the staircase incident?”

  I can’t help the chuckle that forms from my chest. “I had to teach you a lesson. You said Emric wanted to see what the fuss was all about.”

  “He’s an asshole, and I’m only Marty when I’m with you.”

  “No,” I retort. “I want both. I want everything.” He peers up at me, the moonlight casting over the stubble of his face but not his eyes.

  “Emric comes with many ghosts. Things I can’t cast away. He’s not the safest, Stormi.”

  “You can’t hide behind him forever.”

  He bows his head. “I’m jacked up. Too many—” I reach to grab his face, pulling him to cover me with his body.

  “You’re not. You’re everything.” I brush my thumb along his cheek. “And...” The words choke up again as though they refuse to leave because it’s the most dangerous thing I’ve ever done in my life.

  I’ve never told anyone I’ve been in love with them. Not only is the emotion of love a complicated and powerful entity, but it’s tragic and all-consuming.

  I’m not sure if I’m ready for it to overtake things. If it’ll make me blind and stupid to things I shouldn’t be. If it’ll suck all rationality out of me.

  “What’s wrong?” Marty presses, brushing back wetness off my face. I hadn’t noticed I began to cry and inwardly cringe.

  “I’m in love with you,” I blurt through clenched eyes. “Fuck...” His warm mouth hits mine immediately, and my embarrassment is quickly replaced with wanting him to just screw me and mess me up for anyone else.

  As though he can read my mind, he positions himself and thrusts slowly inside me, separating our lips for a second with how good it feels. Like breaking apart and never wanting to be mended back together because this way, Marty will always be needed.

  Wrapping my arms around his neck, I relish in how slow he’s working me into a frenzy.

  How this is different than all the other times.

  He doesn’t need to respond to my declaration, this alone is enough. It means something. This isn’t just fucking but feelings, dreams, and fears all mixed together.

  “You’re too good for me,” he utters into my lips. “Way too good, baby.”

  “Is it a death sentence to love you?” I counter as he trails kisses to my cheek and down the sensitive path to my nec
k.

  “Yes—” he licks my flesh, sending goosebumps rippling down my arms. “—but I still want you to anyway.”

  “We’ll protect each other. That’s what a team does.”

  “I found out who was behind the attempt on Reagan’s life.” My eyes widen as he continues working wet kisses and nibbles along my shoulder.

  “What?” I whisper.

  “Mayor Holden Montgomery, well ex-mayor. Had a thing with Wade years ago. Someone sent a text message to that dude’s phone that I...killed.” He bites down on my body—angry, overwhelmed, I’m not sure, but he doesn’t seem happy about it?

  “What did it say?” Marty begins picking up his pace, alluding to what I believed just a moment ago.

  He’s shaken up about it.

  “He’s dead, stabbed sixty-two times in prison where Wade sent him years ago. He wanted revenge, and the text said to call everything off.”

  “That’s good, right?” He doesn’t respond but nestles his face into the side of my throat, continuing to fuck me steadily. “Is there more danger?”

  He shakes his head. “No, I waited a few days to make sure that nothing else was going to happen and...not to get your hopes up.”

  “Then why do—” He hurls himself deeper inside me, filling me to the hilt, and I gasp in surprise. My fingers pierce into his back, and I don’t care if I hurt him.

  I want to.

  I demand to leave a mark, something that he’ll never get rid of.

  Even though scratches will fade in time, I’m desperate to bury inside him like he has me—physically and mentally. We both never knew it’d come to this—us in bed together, sharing moments and laughs. The contentment of being in each other’s company.

  I never realized how lonely I truly was until I met Marty and his gang of crazies.

  “God, how do you feel better every time I fuck you, sweetheart?” Rounding his face to meet mine, he kisses me deep and long. His tongue entangles with mine, needy, and anxious as does his speed.

  Is he afraid now that I’ll want to go home?

  Because the answer would be that I want to stay.

  That I never desire to leave.

  That home is in those woods he dragged me through and promised to protect me in.

  Marty’s hands slide underneath my back as he wraps his palms around my shoulder blades, hurling me faster against his hard body. It’s as though he’s trying to make sure that not a shred of him isn’t inside.

  I hold on, not only for dear life but because he’s it—my new existence.

  Feeling the build-up of my release, I reach up to cup Marty’s face, studying him like I would the first time.

  He’s perfect.

  A flawless jawline, the rugged stubble that lies there and on his cheeks. The beautiful hazel eyes that I can’t see right now in the darkness but are burnt to memory.

  “Fuck, baby,” Marty quakes. “Tell me you’re almost there because I’m about to lose it.” I drag him by his face, stopping centimeters from my lips.

  “Slow down,” I whisper, which he immediately does. “And feel how whole we fit together. How tightly I feel around—”

  “You’re not helping,” he scolds off a shaky breath. “Tell me something—fuck, I don’t know disgusting.”

  “You mean the way you always want to fuck me?” He bites down on my lower lip, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh.

  “Understatement—” One of his hands comes between us, and he locates one of my nipples, thumbing it in circles. “—I want to devour you and hear you scream my name every second of every single fucking day.”

  “Then make it happen,” I reply before he begins to move quicker again. “Because I never wish to leave.”

  “Are you promising forever, sweetheart?”

  I nod. “Yes. Forever.”

  “Fuck, come for me—hard. I want my name, baby. Make sure—” He immerses so deep that it knocks out my next breath. “—that it’s loud. That you mean it. And that it’s my dick you’ll never forget.”

  “God, Marty.”

  “One or the other.” His relentless pounding into me has me arching into him, forgetting what I had just said because I’m chasing my own high. “Which one?”

  Lips find my throat, licking a wet trail up to my chin. I want him to kiss me, but he doesn’t, waiting for my response. His slowing down is what brings my attention to him, biding his time.

  “What?”

  “Me or God,” he states nonchalantly.

  “You,” I snap. “Now move, please.” His hips torturously propel forward and back, calculating how he’s going to fuck me and how hard. “Marty.“

  “Ah.” I can hear the smile in his tone. “Now, you’re ready to break apart with me.”

  And I do—violently a few seconds later. His name and my shuddered moans are the only things I remember until Marty’s body weight crashes down on mine.

  He wraps me in his arms and hauls my frame into his heaving chest, our sweaty bodies clinging tightly to each other.

  “Don’t forget how much you drive me wild,” he mutters in my hair, following it with a brush of his lips. “You’re the most perfect thing in my life.”

  I snuggle closer, pressing my cheek into his chest. “You are painstakingly the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  He chuckles as we lay there together, listening to the soft crashes of the waves outside.

  Nothing will ever beat this.

  Ever.

  Stretching along the soft sheets of the bed, I crack my eyes open to find Marty isn’t next to me.

  Shocker.

  I wonder if the man ever sleeps or if he’s a vampire. The soft closing of a car door sounds outside, hinting that Marty got me some of those bagels and donuts that I wanted from the small store we went to yesterday. The smell of coffee fills my nose, and I can’t help the splinter of my lips when I think about where I am compared to weeks ago.

  How much my life has turned upside down for the better, and I have more than anything I could’ve asked for.

  Marty has done nothing but try and keep me happy, it’s time I learn and explore things that could make his life simpler or happier.

  Besides the sex, of course, which seems to be the only thing he wants.

  We made love one more time before falling asleep, our legs tangled together, and his large forearm draped over my torso. His chin rested upon the top of my head, and he whispered how he wished he could live here.

  I would’ve told him that Mills and Bishop weren’t that bad, but sleep won over, and now I’m here the next morning wondering what things we could do today. That maybe we could talk about the important things that I know wedge in between us that we’re afraid to ask.

  Sitting up and swinging my legs over the side, I plop down on the floor and stride out into the hall.

  The kitchen opens up, bright and beautiful from the morning’s rays, and I glance out the large window overlooking the driveway. A red flatbed pulls off the gravel drive, leaving behind a black Chevy Malibu in its wake. Stepping closer, I search for Marty’s truck, not finding it there, and pivot back for coffee.

  And there, on the kitchen island, sits my bagels, donuts, some red roses, and a folded up piece of paper. Plucking the white parchment up first, I quickly open it, skimming over unrecognized handwriting, but it’s my name at the top left that shows it’s for me.

  Stormi—

  You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I don’t know what I did to deserve you for the time that we had, but I won’t ask questions. I’m a lucky fuck who was able to hold you, kiss you, and make you mine for the allotted time we had even though it’d never be forever.

  When you read this letter, it’ll begin to sink in that I’m not there. I took the pussy route for the first time in my life because seeing you cry isn’t something I’m equipped to handle. I never wanted it to happen this way. I never wanted you to mean anything to me. You started off as my enemy, and I sometimes wish you would�
�ve stayed that way because the alternative is worse.

  Since day one, I’ve had a strong and unyielding fascination with you. I’ve tried to fight it, file you away as a no one. But nothing could ever put you anywhere but at the forefront of my brain. You had me in the palm of your hand, and I’d gladly stay there just to be within touching distance of you.

  This home is yours, paid for, and in your name. On the microwave is information of a bank account with money in it, keys to your new car outside—I had to pick black to keep something of me with you—and identification.

  Your new life starts now.

  I promised that I’d give you everything you wanted after the shit I’ve done to you, and this is me keeping it.

  Getting here was always the plan, and as much as I don’t want to part from you, this is for the best no matter how you look at it. I might be someone that makes you happy now, but I’ll make you miserable in the long run. You can’t ignore who I am and what I do forever, and I’ll only drag you down when you need to shine.

  And I don’t want you to dim out.

  I want you to build the life you always wanted and never had. I want you to fall in love with some asshole, get a dog, and have kids. I can’t be selfish with you. As much as it makes me sick to give you up to the world, mine isn’t yours to live in. It’s too desolate and cruel, filled with events and demons that have no reason to lie on your doorstep.

  With all that bullshit aside, I want you to know that you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Being with you has been the highlight of my life, and nothing will ever compare to the time we spent together.

  I’ll never fucking forget you.

  There won’t be a day that goes by where I won’t think about you.

  You’re fucking everything.

  Last night, you told me you loved me, you crazy and dumb woman. I swear to God I always knew you’d be the death of me, and I’m serving the perfect sentence for all the offenses I’ve committed. You were my revelation to care again, to breathe clearly.

  And I’m in love with you too.

  I have been for a long time. And in the most douchebag fashion, I’m telling you this in a note after leaving you behind, but you need to know that it was never just you. And it’ll remain like that until the day I die.