by Sydney Lane
"Only if you want me to."
"Yes." With that one word, in the cool night air with a slight breeze blowing, my world got a little bit smaller.
I pull her to me, draping my arm over her shoulder, and together, we walk in the direction of my car. I can't stop the goofy smile that suddenly takes over my face.
It feels so good to be needed.
When we get back to the club, the guys are bursting out the doors and spilling out onto the sidewalk. Loud music briefly escapes before the door slams shut. Liza stiffens beside me the moment she recognizes Seth and Drew.
Seth has both arms slung over the shoulders of the girls on each side of him. He's leaning over, whispering in the ear of a tall brunette while holding tightly to the other girl. Drew spots me first, a wry smile on his face as he shakes his head.
Liza slides out from underneath my arm and walks over to Corrine who is in the group behind the guys. She openly stares at Seth with a look of complete and utter disgust, but he's too drunk and preoccupied to notice. By the look on her face, I'm don’t think I ever want to piss Liza off.
As the guys near me, Seth stops alongside Drew and finally looks up, taking stock of his surroundings. A huge smile breaks out on his face as he releases the brunette. "Dec!" He practically shouts my name as he plows into me. "I thought you left with Liza." I take his arm, pulling it over my shoulder as I help support him.
"I was giving her a ride home." I nod over his shoulder where she stands with Corrine and Whitney. He turns and finds the girls, his eyes quickly skimming over them and back to me as if he doesn't notice Corrine standing there with tears running down her face.
"Is that what they're callin' it these days?" He laughs, slowly dragging his feet as I pull him toward my car. "I was about to give those girls a ride home, too."
I look over my shoulder to make sure the girls didn't hear. Corrine has her back to us, but Liza's eyes are shooting daggers at Seth. Oh, yeah, she heard.
"Man, why don't you be quiet for a minute and get in the car?" Drew opens the door, and we boost Seth's big body up into the 4-Runner. He briefly protests, waving at his latest conquests who are still standing on the sidewalk watching us. "Tell them 'bye' now because they aren't coming with us."
"Later, girls! I know you're disappointed, but my bro says I gotta go! Hey, did you catch that? I rhymed." I give him one last shove, and Drew slams the door, drowning out the rest of his drunken chatter. The girls walk by, disappointment on their faces. Liza and Corrine's eyes follow them, full of contempt. Girls have a strange ability to strip you bare with their eyes.
"What happened to him?" I ask Drew, and he holds his hands up in defense.
"Don't look at me. I was up on stage. When we finished our set, I found him face down in a set of tits. I convinced him to leave. Was going to drive him home, and that's when you got here." He shrugs his shoulders, unable to explain it any more than I can. Seth's behavior has gotten more outlandish, more risky, over the last few months. If he keeps it up, he's going to get kicked off the football team.
"Thanks. I'll take him from here." Before walking over to the girls, I check on him one more time. He's already passed out, his head lolling to the side, sleeping like a baby and oblivious to the damage he's done.
Corrine is still visibly shaken. Whitney consoles her, and Liza stands by, uncomfortable and agitated. The wild look in her eyes reminds me of her plea, her need to escape, and I wonder how much of her reaction is due to her friend's distress and how much of it is about what almost happened between us. Now, more than ever, I'm convinced someone didn't just hurt her.
They're still hurting her.
"I hate to skip out on you, but-" I jerk my head toward the car. "Do you need a ride?" Unable to meet my eyes, Liza shakes her head. I reach for her, not wanting things to end like this. Leaning down, I capture her gaze. Her tortured expression digs deep inside of me, sparking an urge to protect her, to take care of her.
She doesn't need to be alone tonight.
Heck, I don't want to be alone tonight.
I risk a hug, pulling her close, my chin resting on her shoulder. Near her ear, I whisper, "Remember the fire escape?" When she doesn't respond, I release her and turn to Corrine. "I don't know what to say. He's going through something, and I know it doesn't make you feel better, but I'm sure he'll sleep it off and be back to normal tomorrow."
"I'm sure he will." She takes a deep breath and releases it, the line of tears drying on her face. "He always is."
I can't stand to see girls cry. Not in that annoyed, it grates on my nerves way. No, it bothers me. I'm a comforter, and I'm a fixer, and I can't deal with things I have no control over.
Drew climbs into the backseat, and I say goodbye to the girls. As I drive away, I look into the rearview mirror to find Liza staring after us. What I'd give to know what she's thinking.
Back at the house, Drew helps me get Seth inside. We struggle to carry him up the steps and get him situated on a couch in the game room. "Somebody needs to talk to him." What Drew is saying is that I need to talk to him. As the chaplain, it's my duty. As a friend, it's a necessity. I can't watch my brother throw his life away.
After assuring him that I'll do it, he leaves me standing there. I look down at Seth while he sleeps and wonder at the things you don't know about people. People are walking around- hurting, hiding things we can only imagine, things we could never know or understand.
Just look at Quincy. I'm still not convinced that anyone really knows her.
I walk up the stairs feeling as if the weight of the world sits on my shoulders. Quincy spoke to me. I mean, she actually smiled at me. For the first time in months, I felt alive. Completely, truly alive. Her smile has that much power.
I remember when I was the recipient of that smile, how it could light up the room. So adorable, so innocent. She's the kind of girl I always saw myself marrying.
Funny thing, though. It's not her I think of when I undress and lie in the darkness. It's not her I dream of when my eyes close and I drift into sleep.
Soft. Red. Sweet.
Those lips....
Chapter 20
Eliza
I can't believe I'm doing this.
I just couldn't go home. The idea of lying awake in the darkness while thinking about Declan's offer sounded like a nightmare. He promised me an escape, and I'm going to take it, thank you very much.
I remove my boots, carrying them as I climb the narrow steps. At the top, I stand at the door, afraid to open it. Afraid not to. I feel vulnerable, exposed, my heart hurting with the sudden need I have for the man in that room. I don't need anyone. I never have.
For once, though, I found someone who awakened something inside of me, filling me full of hope. Closing my eyes, I take several deep breaths and convince myself it's not Declan, not the man himself, who causes me to feel this way. It's the sex. Good sex but still just sex. That's all it was, all it'll ever be.
I have nothing left to give, nothing to offer.
I push open the door, quietly slipping into his room. Standing still, my eyes slowly adjust to the darkness. When I can finally focus, I find him on the bed, asleep and lying on his stomach with his arms pushed up under his pillow. The sheet rests low on his hips to reveal a well-defined back and an unexpected, but delicious tattoo. The room smells exactly like I remember, a mixture of male, earthy scents, and the cologne I now associate with him.
In sleep, his face is relaxed, smile lines still visible at the corners of his eyes. His eyelashes are long and dark, resting on his face. He's so beautiful he breaks my heart. So much good inside of him, and I'm just an empty shell.
I saw him tonight, saw him talking to Quincy. I watched his face transform when she smiled back at him, and he looked happier, less broken, with just those few words than I've ever seen him. Less anguished. Declan deserves a sweet girl like her, not someone like me.
For a brief moment, when Quincy smiled, I saw a special spark inside of her. She radiate
s light and beauty and something else... something I can't put my finger on. But I know she's a survivor. I recognize it in her spirit- the way she squares her shoulders and deliberately lifts her head high. I get the feeling she hasn't always been that way, that she's still trying to become who she wants to be. And for all the love in her eyes when she looks at Brody, I know there's unfinished business between Declan and her.
I'm not sure what their history is. I'm not sure I ever want to know. Just thinking about it creates a strange, sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. It feels a whole like jealousy, but I know that's not possible. I'm not jealous of her relationship with Declan. I'm just envious of the soul-baring, earth-shattering, all-or-nothing love in his eyes when he looks at her.
What I'd give to be cherished like that.
Then, there's the man himself. He's such a nice guy. That's the problem. Declan exudes niceness. He can't help it; he just does. It shows in the clothes he wears. It shows in his adorable, dimpled smile. Mostly, it shows in his way too expressive eyes.
It showed when Quincy smiled at him.
I sit here in the corner of his room, watching him sleep, and remind myself of the hundred and fifty reasons this is a bad idea. I tick off the reasons, each one stripping me bare.
My breathing becomes labored, my heart racing wild in my chest, panic and fear rising to a deafening volume. The need to run overwhelms me, and I stand, walking to the door. Just as I reach for the knob, Declan's deep, sleepy voice stops me in my tracks.
"Stay."
I hold my breath as I slowly turn around, my back against the wall. The room is dark, a hint of light glowing through the slatted blinds on the windows, making it impossible to see his face clearly.
"Go back to sleep, Declan. I shouldn't be here." My hand quivers as I reach for the door again. The height of my stupidity knows no bounds.
"But you came." He rolls over and sits up on the edge of the bed, raising his arms over his head to stretch. His hips are narrow, those of a runner, and my eyes are drawn to his taut chest and chiseled abs. I can't help but wonder how they'd feel under my hands, but that's a luxury I can't afford myself.
"Goodnight, Declan." I turn away, unable to look at him any longer.
"Liza, please." He stands, padding across the room. "Stay." Standing in front of me in only a pair of boxers, a strange electricity buzzes in the air, sparking a smoldering fire in my body. His body is the perfect distraction.
Slowly, his eyes drink me in, a trail of heat burning in the wake of his gaze. His breath ghosts across my shoulder seconds before his lips press against my neck. He sucks gently, drawing the skin between his lips and lightly nipping before releasing it. His tongue lazily draws circles on the sensitive flesh there. My skin prickles, anticipating his touch.
Sex has always been a tool, a means to an end. Something I use to test my boundaries, to prove I am in control. To remind me that I'm alive. I have never, not once, enjoyed it. Not until Declan. For that, I feel as if I've committed the ultimate betrayal, that my own body threw up a white flag in surrender.
But he finally did what none of the others have. He made me forget. For one fucking moment, I didn't think of anything but the pulsating warmth between my legs and the man who brought me pleasure. I greedily took everything he gave. That night empowered me and gave me back a little piece of myself.
When he pulls away, he stares into my eyes. "Are you staying?"
"No." My answer is just a whisper, breathless, as I make the decision I know may change the rules of the game. "I'm escaping." A sharp hiss escapes him, his body going taut.
I raise my arm, my hand wrapping around his neck, and roughly pull his lips to mine.
He kisses me with ravenous desire. Devouring my lips, greedily claiming my mouth. The world around us fades away, and all I hear and see and know is how he makes me feel. There's no nice boy in a polo shirt when he's kissing me senseless.
My body melts around him, conforming to the hard lines of his frame. His hands encircle my waist, pulling me to him, so close I can't miss just how much he wants this. He tears his mouth away from mine, nudging my legs apart with his knee. Rotating his hips, he presses against me, sending a shockwave echoing through my lower body.
"You feel so damn good." I open for him, spreading my legs for a better fit, and he groans. "So. Damn. Good." He breathes out the words, a little dirty and a whole lot sexy.
He pushes me backwards, and I fall onto the bed. When he crawls up my body, his hand brushes my thigh, trailing up my leg to my hip. I sit up, pushing him away, as I reach for the hem of my shirt and roughly drag it over my head. Then, I reach for my waistband, shoving my thong and leggings down and kicking them off. He kneels between my thighs, and I reach for his boxers, pushing them down as my hands cup his firm ass.
I moan when his hand gently presses against me, his mouth finding my breasts. Everything he does, every touch, carries me closer to the brink. When his touch becomes too gentle, his kisses too light, I bite his neck, spurring the intensity. Our bodies collide, our breathing labored, as we consume each other, taking what we need and giving only what we can.
I reach for the condom I have stashed in my bra and wrap my hands tightly around him, rolling the rubber over him. He inhales sharply, his eyes closed as he gets impossibly harder.
When he plunges into me, the room is filled with our loud moans, harsh breaths, and the sound of skin slapping against skin. It's not gentle. It's rough and hard and exactly what I need. I wrap my legs around his waist, my hips rising to meet his thrust for thrust. I bury my head in the curve of his neck, licking and nipping, as I taunt him with my tongue.
His hands, his mouth, his body... he goes on for what seems like forever. We're slick with sweat and our bodies glide over each other, creating a delicious friction that ignites a fire inside of me.
I inhale, holding the deep breath, and my body tenses as the pressure between my thighs builds. His hands grip me tighter, his fingers digging into my sides. He rides me harder, faster until... wave after wave of release washes over me, draining me both physically and emotionally.
He leans over me, our bodies still joined, and asks, "Where are you now?"
"Here." I open my eyes and stare into the darkness. Anxiety dance on the edges of my bliss. When he pulls away from me, I suddenly feel vulnerable.
"Good answer." A relaxed smile touches his lips, instantly putting me at ease. My eyes follow him as he walks across the room, stepping into a pair of boxers and tossing me a shirt. "You can have this one. You know, so you don't have to steal it."
"Yep, you caught me. I was wondering how I'd smuggle it out of here without you noticing." I like joking with him, but I have to admit, it feels totally weird. I'm used to jumping up, putting on my clothes, and getting the hell out of dodge.
He talks, he smiles, and he wants me to stay. Weird.
I still can't bring myself to cuddle, the very idea causing me to inwardly cringe. When he lies down, he doesn't push as he turns on his side to face me. "Night, Liza."
"Night."
The house is unusually quiet, and it seems as if the whole world was sleeping while were discovering each other. This moment, this very crazy, very scary moment, will be seared into my memory forever.
It's the first time I've felt worthy.
Chapter 21
Declan
And... she left.
I wake up to an empty bed and the residual scent of her on the pillow next to me. My eyes fall on the t-shirt I gave her last night. Draped over the back of a chair, it's the only real reminder that she was here at all.
Why does she do that? We don't have to spoon and call each other 'honey', but I don't think it's asking too much for her to let me drive her home.
Just simple thoughts of her arouse me again. I used to dream about touching Quincy, the gentle caresses and the tender love-making. I used to want that more than I had ever wanted anything else. But when I'm with Liza, it's like a force of nature, powerful an
d carnal. She brings out a whole other side of me that I didn't even know existed- the guy who knows what he wants and takes it. It's not gentle. It's not loving. It is extraordinary.
Running a hand over the stubble on my head, I get up and dress. I grow more agitated as I move around. Today is the day we help Eric and Jenna move into their new apartment.
The winds of change are in the air, and who knows where I'll end up. I just hope it's somewhere close to where I want to be.
Drew knocks on my door, letting himself in. "You ready to go?"
"Yeah, just a sec." I grab my watch and tighten it on my wrist. "How's Seth?" That's a completely different subject, one I'm not really ready to tackle.
"Believe it or not, he dragged his big ass downstairs a few minutes ago. He's waiting for us." He shakes his head, hands on his hips. "What're we gonna do with him?" Out of all of us, Drew is the wildest and craziest. If he's worried about Seth, well, that says something.
"I'll talk to him. He's just going through something right now. You know Seth- he always manages to land on his feet." I'm not sure if I even believe that anymore.
"You ready?"
"As I'll ever be." Nothing could ever really prepare me for this. Just when I think it might be getting easier, one glimpse of Quincy lets me know it's not. Last night, she talked to me. Well, I talked to her first, but for two seconds, it was almost like... nothing. Not a damn thing.
Downstairs, we begin loading Eric's things into our trucks. Seth is a peculiar shade of green, and for once, he's not saying much. I figure he either feels bad about what happened with Corrine or he just feels bad period, as in massive, head-pounding, stomach-churning hangover bad. I hope it's both.
"You look and smell like ass." I can't resist.
"Yeah, well, stop ridin' me then," he grumbles, shooting me a cocky grin.
Drew and I make several trips upstairs, carrying Eric's packed boxes down, while the pledges load the truck under Seth's direction. I remind myself that I need to talk to him, but this isn't exactly the time or place for a heart-to-heart. All in due time.
