by Sydney Lane
I mean, why not?
My arm's on vacation anyway.
Chapter 43
Declan
Holy hell. She's amazing.
She said she'd come to the party, but I didn't hear from her all afternoon. She didn't respond to my texts, and I was beginning to wonder if she was blowing me off. I expected that. What I didn't expect was to walk into the kitchen to find her sitting on the countertop, her head tilted back as she swallows a tequila shot, wearing those hot boots of hers.
That girl is a whole world of heartbreak just waiting to happen. And I can't seem to care.
I care that she needs me even though she'd never admit it. I care that she makes me happy. And I care that I can't get her out of my head.
My heart presses against my chest, a strange tugging emotion drawing me to her. I've never felt this way before. Not even with Quincy.
I never thought I'd let this happen again, but some things are worth the risk.
There are several guys standing around, their eyes traveling over Liza's body just as mine are. Her long, tan legs dangle over the side of the counter, and I want nothing more than to go stand between them, to claim her as mine. I know it would piss her off if I-
Screw it.
I stride purposefully toward her, my eyes capturing hers. She lights up when she spots me, and I don't hesitate to step between her thighs and lower my head to hers. Our mouths collide in a battle of wills. She hesitates, her hands pushing against my chest. I use my tongue to push past her lips, delving deeper to taste her, taunting her. My hands come up, cupping her jaw to hold her against me. I tease, kissing hard then soft and hard again, until I feel her melt into me. The hand that was pushing me away is now fisted tightly in my shirt, pulling me closer. Like she can't get close enough to me. Her tongue plays with mine, darting out to play before retreating. Kissing Liza should be illegal.
When I finally end the kiss, her breathing is hard and labored. She hadn't been expecting that. While her hands push me away, her eyes draw me in. She's torn between wanting me and wanting me to stop. I don't give her the choice.
I lower my hands to the countertop, caging her in. "Hi." I grin. I'm the luckiest man alive.
She smiles seductively, her lids heavy with desire. I almost laugh as she leans into me, her voice low and hoarse. "Hi."
It's just that simple with us. One word says it all. It says 'Hi. I've missed you but I'm afraid to say it'. It says 'Hi. I'm so glad you came'. And it says 'Hi. I want so much more'.
"Do a shot with me?" She sways against me, wrapping her arms around my neck, and I wonder how much she's had to drink.
"Can't. I'm driving tonight."
"Oh, come on." She pinches her fingers together, saying, "Just one little shot?"
"One." I give in but not without a price. "If I get to do it my way." Her brows shoot up, her eyes swirling with questions. She has no idea what those red lips do to me, that if we weren't in the kitchen in the middle of a party, I'd throw her down and ravish her right this instant.
"Yeah? What's that?" Breathy. Soft. Sensual.
"Body shot." I push her backwards until she's propped up on her elbows.
I reach for a shot glass, filling it to the rim with tequila. Once I'm done, I push her skirt high up on her thighs and place the shot glass between her legs. My hands linger, burning from her heat. Her eyes darken as her breathing hitches in anticipation. Next, I reach for a lime, running it down the top of her thigh, lingering when she gasps and closes her eyes. I add salt, sprinkling it down the wet line drawn in lime juice. Bending my knees, I lean down. I look up at her, our eyes meeting in one, brief heated moment. Ever so slowly, I lick the salt and lime from her leg, trailing my tongue over the soft skin there. She gasps when I move upward, my face nestled between her legs as I take the shot glass between my teeth and stand. I tip my head back and swallow the contents, a slow burn blazing a path down my throat. Without using my hands, I bend and drop the glass onto the counter.
"I should've known," she whispers, her eyes half-closed as her hand grips the edge.
"What?" I smile knowingly. I'd bet my car I know exactly what she's thinking right now.
"You don't do shots like a nice guy. You had to go and make it all sexy and shit."
I smile knowingly, her assessment unleashing a week's worth of pent-up frustration. I'm trying, with all my might, to treat her right, but she's not making it easy.
"That's because you're all sexy and shit." I lean in, stealing one more kiss before she pushes me away, giggling. I push off the counter, standing in front of her. I take her hand, helping her down, her body sliding down mine one inch at a time. She backs away, her gaze never faltering.
She can pretend that she doesn't want this, but her body doesn't lie.
Chapter 44
Eliza
"I love those boots." His arms are still wrapped around me, and I can feel exactly how much he loves the boots. The proof is currently poking me in the stomach. My lips still tingle from his hungry kiss, the air heady between us.
I can't tell if it's the tequila, the kiss, or just him, but my head is garbled with a jumble of thoughts, and my tongue can't string together more than two words. My thigh still tingles where his tongue swirled, and my insides quiver at his touch. I hope I'm just drunk, that my body doesn't crave him more than it craves its next breath.
Because that could really be a disaster.
There are two sides of Declan White. I like them both.
There's sweet, boy-next-door Declan, the one who opens doors for me and makes me laugh, and then there's rough and tempting Declan, the one who barged in and kissed the living daylights out of me just now. Two complicated pieces of a totally hot puzzle.
When he walked through the door tonight, I was mesmerized by him, and for a moment, I forgot where we were. Every girl in the room must have felt the same way. Their eyes followed him, raking over his hard, muscular body. He walked past them without a glance, just like I hoped he would.
"Are you okay?" He leans down, his eyes roaming over my face.
"I am now." I smile, aware that I'll probably regret anything I say tonight. It's getting too easy to let my guard down, to finally accept my feelings for what they are. I really, really like him. Maybe even more. I hope he feels the same way about me. No, I don't! Yes, I do. Gah!
Oh, yeah... "Eric was looking for you earlier." I almost forgot to tell him. It's all Declan's fault. If he hadn't distracted me, I would have remembered sooner.
I go in search of the bathroom while he goes in search of Eric. Every girl in the room watches his exit. When my heart stops trying to jump out of my chest, I might poke out their eyes. It's not like me to be jealous, and I've never cared what others think of me. Heck, I'm barely a girl on most days.
Corrine and Whitney find me in the hall. We grab a drink and move out onto the deck. The small apartments are packed with people- people dancing, people talking, people laughing. Situations like these always make me uncomfortable, claustrophobic.
"I can't believe he's doing this again." Corrine's eyes follow Seth as he whispers into the ear of a leggy redhead. Whatever he says makes her laugh as she sways into him.
"I can't believe you're putting up with it again." Her eyes widen in shock, her mouth opening and closing without words. "What? It's true. You were always so sassy and confident before. Now, you just let him roll right over you."
"Stop being a bitch." Her eyes are sad, and I almost feel bad.
"I'm just wondering where you went," I say, observing her reaction. This Corrine is not the one I first met and became friends with.
"I know." She watches him lead the girl into the house before she turns back to me. "I just feel like he needs me or something. I don't know..." Her words trail off as she wraps her arms around her stomach and looks defeated. "I want to help him."
"Yeah? How's that working out for you?" I can't mask my sarcasm.
"Leave her alone," Whitney interrupts. "Sometimes, the
y change." Her eyes follow Brody when he walks out onto the deck, his eyes searching the crowd, no doubt looking for Quincy. He looks right past Whitney, doesn't even notice her hopefully watching him.
"Oh, get real. I wish you'd both get your heads out of your asses." I roll my eyes, wondering if everyone with a vagina has lost their minds.
"You're one to talk," Whitney observes. She's right. Sort of. I may be screwed up, but at least I'm not stupid.
"You don't want to go there. I'm an equal opportunity bitch, Whit. I've got plenty more where that came from." I sigh, realizing that nothing I say will change either of them. Corrine is hung up on saving Seth from himself, and Whitney has been brainwashed by Brody's dick. "Nevermind. You just keep doing what you're doing and see where it gets you."
I almost laugh at my own words. Me giving relationship advice? Hilarious.
When I stalk away, I stumble, weaving through a group of guys at the door. Inside, it's dark, and the music vibrates loudly in my ears. I must've drank more than I realized. I try to spot Declan's tall form above everyone else, but he's not in here. Just when I decide to go back outside, an arm encircles my waist from behind. I've gotten so used to the feel of Declan that I immediately know it's not him.
Angrily, I push the groping hand away and turn to face the owner of said hand. "Hands off, asshole." My words come out slightly slurred, but I get the point across.
"You weren't sayin' that last time." He leers at me, his eyes on my tits. I focus on his face, and although he looks vaguely familiar, I don't recognize him.
Reaching for me, he wraps his hands around my waist, pulling me toward him. I try to push back but end up stumbling backward. He seizes the opportunity, stepping forward and trapping me against the wall. Caging me in with his arms, his hips pin me to the wall. I plant my hands on his chest, pushing as I draw my knee up to his groin. He anticipates my move and closes his legs around my thigh.
"What's wrong? You don't remember me, sweets?" His breath is hot against my face, the pungent smell of cigarettes and beer overwhelming. I shake my head. No, I don't remember him, but I realize he's telling the truth. "You liked it. Let me remind you." His hand lands on my bare thigh, and I cringe, still pushing against him.
"Let her go." Declan's voice, like a knife, slices through the air. I raise my eyes to his, meeting his stormy gaze. Oh, no, no, no...
"Who the fuck are you?" The guy asked, preparing for a fight.
"I'm the guy who's gonna kick your ass if you don't back off." Declan's voice is low and dangerous. The music cuts off abruptly, and it seems like every eye is on us. Now, they all know.
"Yeah? Well, you can have her, dude." He releases me, backing away, but I can't move. It's as if I'm still pinned to the wall, paralyzed with humiliation. "She's already fucked half the guys here. She wasn't that good anyway." His gaze flicks down my body as if disgusted by what he sees, and I feel exposed. Naked. My skirt suddenly seems too short, my top too tight.
I look like a whore. Worse, I feel like one.
Declan's fist flies through the air, landing a crushing blow to his nose. The guy stumbles backwards, his hand cupping his face as blood runs between his fingers. Declan looks ready to pounce, his body rigid and tense. Dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, his face shrouded in darkness, he looks lethal.
The guy lifts his head, sneering at Declan. He rushes forward, his arm raised, when Seth steps between them. He easily catches his fist in his palm, squeezing until the guy squirms in his grasp, yelping. "I don't think you want to do that, asshat." He easily twists the guy's arm behind his back, pushing him from the room and toward the door.
I sag in relief, crumbling inside. My worst fears have come to life. A sense of stone-cold dread pervades every fiber of my being. It's that terrifying realization that my two worlds are about to collide, and there's nothing I can do about it.
Everyone knows what a big slut I am. Declan knows. I'm disgusted and humiliated. And too late, I realize that the man I love now knows what I really am.
I close my eyes, breathing deeply, still unable to move.
I wasn't good enough for him anyway. And now, he knows.
They all know.
When I feel Declan's arms behind my knees, lifting me in his arms, I melt against him. Cradled against his chest, I slowly open my eyes, immediately wishing I hadn't. People are openly staring, eyeing me with curiosity and pity. Jenna. Quincy. Corrine. I clench my eyes tightly shut and bury my head in his chest as he carries me from the apartment and to his SUV.
The sound of his heart beating in his chest drowns out the sob building in my throat. I want to scream. I want to hide. I want to run.
Needing someone, loving them, shouldn't hurt so much.
Chapter 45
Declan
A few curious glances follow us from the apartment, but I stop the questions with a glare. Outside, I lift Liza into my SUV. She reaches for the radio, stopping on a Kings of Leon song, the haunting melody flowing between us. She silently stares out the window all the way to the house, and I... well, I wonder what she's thinking.
Surprisingly, she doesn't argue when I pull into the drive. I expected her to shut down and insist that I take her home, so I'm shocked when she tangles her fingers with mine and soundlessly follows me upstairs.
I know what this is about. She needs her escape, and I need mine. The only thing is, I'm not so sure hers is healthy. For either of us.
At the top of the stairs, I hesitate, knowing that once we go into my room and close the door behind us, it'll be all too easy to fall into the same old habits. And God knows, I want her so bad. I'm not sure I can stop myself even if I wanted to.
I unlock the door, pushing it open, and she brushes past me. I smell the sweet scent of strawberries and wonder about her choice. Strawberries remind me of summer days on my grandparent's farm, the sweet aroma in the air as we picked berries for a pie. Such good memories.
What do strawberries mean to Liza? Do they mean anything?
I don't turn on the light. Instead, I walk to the bed, shrouded in darkness, pulling Liza to my chest. My heart rages, threatening to explode. It takes everything I have not to go after the asshole who did this, but Liza needs me.
And I need her to be okay.
Clinging to me, she closes her eyes in a moment of weakness. Her breaths come out in short puffs, her hands fisted in my hair as she buries her face in the curve of my neck. I gently sway, rocking our bodies back and forth, my hands caressing her back. I whisper words of support, attempting to coax her out of her hiding place, my lips brushing her temple.
My mind is all over the place. I can't imagine Liza being with that jerk. It makes me sick and angry and... God, I don't understand it. She so beautiful, so damn special. I don't get how she could let someone use her like that, but in the end, it doesn't matter. I don't care who she was or what she's done.
I just care that she's here now. With me.
After what feels like hours, she grows still against my chest, her hands releasing their hold on me. She slowly lifts her head, her eyes meeting mine, so full of pain and shame and something I can't name. My gut twists in response.
I gaze into her eyes, trying to show her everything I can't say- things that would scare her, make her run, if she ever knew. I try to convey how much she means to me, how much it would hurt me to lose her... how much I love her.
In those moments of silence, there in the darkness, the air intensifies around us. Music comes on somewhere in the house, and a sultry beat pulses through the walls. Her breath becomes uneven, her chest erratically rising and falling while her heart races under my hand. Every fiber of my being responds to her, recognizing her, wanting her.
I talk myself down, wishing she couldn't feel my erection growing against her. I would never take advantage of her pain. I open my mouth to reassure her at the same time her mouth collides with mine, crushing my lips. Her tongue pushes into me, tangling with mine. For a split second, I respond, fervently kissing her ba
ck. My hands move under her shirt, burning on her skin.
I pour everything into that kiss, losing control. The voice in the back of my head suddenly shouts at me. I've heard about girls getting assaulted who use sex to cope. That guy had his hands all over her. He was hurting her.
I wrench my lips from hers, and her eyes jolt open, searching mine. Confusion, then anger surfaces. "Don't do this," she pleads, her words gutting me.
I release her, pacing back and forth, my hand running over my short hair as I try to make sense of the whole night. I know what she wants, but I'm not that guy. I can't let her hide in me.
Standing still, her soulful green eyes follow me, watching as I turn to her. She nervously fidgets, looking anywhere but at me.
Finally, I beg, "Talk to me."
Her eyes clash with mine, defeated yet defiant, her lips twisting into a grimace. "You know what this-" she gestures between us "-is about, Declan. Don't try to change the rules now."
"Those were your rules. I never said I'd follow them."
She moves quickly, reaching for the door while attempting to push me away. I don't budge, blocking the only way out.
"Escape, Declan. That's all this is." Her eyes plead with me. "Why are you doing this?" Her voice rises with each word, growing desperate. My heart breaks for her.
"Why won't you just talk to me?" I counter, answering her question with one of my own.
"Talk? We don't talk. You're just a guy I hook up with, and I'm the girl you'd never take home to your mama." She reaches for the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head and throwing it at me. She points at her chest with both hands. "This, Declan. This is what we do. I don't need the bells and whistles, and I don't want to spill my guts all over the guy who's supposed to be fucking me."
"Liza, this isn't healthy. You've got to see that."
"No! You don't get to pick me apart. I'm not her, you know!?" She unzips her skirt, dropping it and hastily kicking it away, her words confusing me.
"Her who?"
