Sayer tears off the plastic wrap, ripping it into stretched out shreds. Some pieces fall to the floor and I rub my jaw. And she throws the plate into the microwave too fast for me to see what she actually made.
She looks at me with fierce eyes. “I changed my mind.”
“About what?”
“This isn’t for you, you ungrateful ass.”
After thirty seconds of nuking she takes it out. It’s some kind of noodle dish that she starts stabbing with a fork and shoving it into her mouth.
Forkful after forkful, noodles go into her mouth until she’s not giving herself time to swallow, making her cheeks jut out like an overstuffed chipmunk.
“You’re going to choke,” I warn.
She does nothing but give me a cold stare over her full cheeks. Until she gets a peculiar look in her eyes and throws her fork to the floor. She runs to the sink, spitting it all out.
I rub my jaw.
After rinsing her mouth out with water, she turns around and leans against the sink.
“You’ve never been more attractive,” I deadpan.
She isn’t amused. “At least you can finally admit I’m attractive.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” She tilts her head.
“Fish for compliments.” I push away from the bar and walk toward her, swiping a bottle of alcohol off the nearby counter as I go.
An eyebrow goes up. “Pardon me for never knowing where I stand with you.”
“And me saying you’re attractive does?”
“Yeah.” She shrugs. “At least you’re not repulsed by me.”
“I had my dick inside you last night. Don’t know if I would call that repulsed.” I stop in front of her, holding out the bottle of tequila.
“What’s that for?” she asks, not moving to take it.
“To wash your mouth out.” The bottle hangs between us.
“Why?”
“I don’t want the taste of noodles in my mouth when I kiss you.”
“You’re going to kiss me?” She doesn’t sound as excited as I thought.
“I’m fucking trying to.”
She takes the bottle, finally, but sets it on the counter. “No, thanks. I’m good.” She smiles up at me, not making a move to get away.
I cross my arms. “You’re good?”
“Yep.” She nods, a little too much. “Last night was enough to sate my curiosity.”
“That so?” I don’t believe her. Especially when her eyes follow my hand as it goes to my tie, loosening it.
“Ye—yeah.” She clears her throat. “Totally good now. Thanks so much for those orgasms.”
I chuckle, loving how her cheeks grow red as I start to undo the buttons at the collar of my shirt.
She grabs the bottle and takes a swig, wincing at the stinging taste.
Her eyes dip to my lips. But it’s too late. I changed my mind.
“I’m not going to kiss you,” I tell her when I shuck my shirt off, reaching around her to put it on the counter.
“I don’t want you to.” Her eyes dip to take in my bare chest. She swallows.
Yes, she does, she can’t stop drinking me in. She’s just hurt from my comment about last night changing nothing.
And it doesn’t. Not my objective, not what she’s here for. The only difference is now I want more. More of her bent forward, me on top of her. I want to push her body to limits no other man can take her.
She’s created this appetite inside me, one only she can curb.
And I know I’ve stirred up the same in her.
I rub my hand down my abs, thumb brushing right above my pants. Sayer follows my movements.
“Well,” I say, withdrawing my hand from my body. “Have a good night, Sayer.”
Before I can turn away, she pushes away from the bar and puts her lips to mine.
I don’t move, waiting for her to take charge.
Almost hesitantly, shyly, she moves her lips against mine. Sweetly at first, but quickly turning sensual. Her hands twist into my hair, her breasts push into my chest as she steps closer into my body. She tastes like tequila and desire.
“Sometimes I really hate you,” she says into my lips. “You make me go crazy.”
“Welcome to my fucking world.” I pick her up by the back of her thighs, holding her as tightly to my chest as physically possible. “My beautiful, sweet siren,” I mumble into her skin before fusing my mouth back to hers.
The kiss isn’t gentle. It’s rough and hungry and full of clashing teeth and a power struggle. Not between us physically, but between her heart and my mind.
She’s tempted me like no one else before. Not because of her looks, even though I do find her stunning. A beautiful girl with a soft heart has never done it for me, but there’s an innocence to her that I have long since lost. It draws me in, how unassuming she is. How much she’s changed from her teenage years but is still inherently Sayer Brooks.
I want to explore her more.
Not just her body.
But her mind.
Just not her heart.
I have no business being in there. No business to go poking around in there. She deserves better than me. But even with that knowledge, I’m not going to stop myself from having her while I can, for however long she lets me.
With her secure in my grip, I walk her up the stairs, kissing her as I do.
It’s not until we reach the top that she pulls away, squirming in my arms. I’m walking us past my bedroom door when she pulls at the end of my hair, wanting me to stop.
“Let’s go in there,” she breathes with impatient need.
“No,” I tell her, continuing farther until we reach her room.
We’re not going in my room. She can’t go in there. It’s the only space in the house, aside from my office, that’s still just mine.
I lead us into her room, tossing her on the bed, and undoing my belt. “Let’s see if we can top last night.”
In a foggy haze, I reach out looking for the warmth I crave only to get empty coldness instead. Popping an eye open, I notice the space in bed next to me is how it is every night.
Empty.
Except I didn’t go to sleep that way, and this isn’t my bed.
Leaning up on my elbow, I reach for my glasses on the table beside me and take note of the room. Clothes and shoes are thrown around haphazardly. That’s all I need to know where I am. Forget the basic, oatmeal colored walls or the nondescript furniture.
I’m in my guest room.
The one Sayer has been staying in.
I hadn’t planned on sleeping here after we had sex. I hadn’t planned on sleeping at all, just like I hadn’t for the past week, but somehow after our last round, I collapsed on top of her and started lazily tracing circles on her soft and sated body.
I told myself I’d stay there for a few minutes, to catch my breath before I went back to searching for her sister and X but somehow a few minutes turned into more and Sayer left me to go to the bathroom, but I still didn’t leave.
For the first time in twenty-eight years, I stayed.
Sayer was surprised as well when she came back out and saw me, raising an eyebrow as she walked back to her bed.
I didn’t say anything as she crawled on the mattress, reaching for the covers, I didn’t have an excuse when I grabbed her hand and pulled her into me.
“Noah…” she says, her hands finding a home on my chest.
I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want to search for the reason why I was still here. All I knew is that I didn’t want to leave and having her in my arms awoke something in me I didn’t want to explore.
The last thing I remember was falling asleep to the sounds of Sayer’s rhythmic breathing and the smell of honey and almond and her.
But Sayer isn’t in here now.
Where is she?
After a quick glance to see if she’s in the bathroom only for the door to be open and the light to be off, I jump out of bed.
&n
bsp; I’ve learned to rely on my gut. Instead of letting emotions control me, I let my gut do the steering, but right now it’s silent and that’s what has my pulse kicking up.
Something’s wrong.
I tear out of her room and through the second floor, only to not find her.
She’s fine. She’s fine. I try to rationalize with myself. My home is secure. Security is top of the line. No one can get in without me knowing…No one can leave either.
Not that I think Sayer would leave at this point. If she hadn’t after me ditching her the first few nights, then she wouldn’t now. I know her and I know she feels safer here than she would back at her apartment.
Then where the hell is she?
My feet pound like thunder down the stairs, I’m about to whip out my phone when I skid to a stop.
Sayer’s standing at the window, overlooking the city’s skyline. The shirt I was wearing earlier swimming around her thighs.
“It’s your move,” she says, not turning around, but I see her twirling one of my chess pieces in the reflection.
I don’t care about the game right now. I want to pull her away from the window. “What’re you doing here?”
“I couldn’t sleep.” She sounds exhausted though.
Timid, like approaching a spooked animal, I approach her. I don’t speak until my chest brushes her back. “Why?”
She seems so small right now. I can almost physically see her shrinking into herself as she says, “I’m scared.”
Sayer turns around and looks at me with wide, shaken eyes.
My chest seizes. “About what?”
Maybe it’s the late night hour or the fact that she’s always pulled at parts I’ve kept hidden from everyone including myself, but I want to wrap her in my arms and never let her go.
“About everything!” she explains. “So much is happening around me and I don’t know anything. I’m in the dark and I hate it, Noah. The reason why I left here was because I hated all the secrets my family kept from me. I ran from the toxic town only to find my way back after almost a year of feeling lost, but I don’t feel found. If anything, I feel more lost than before. I just want to know what’s going to happen. Who’s after me. And what you’re going to do when you find my sister.”
I stare at her, dumbfounded and lost for words. She’s asking me questions I don’t have the answers to.
I’m not one to believe in divinity, but even I don’t know what the future holds, every day brings a challenge and for me, another threat, but you can’t stop it from coming, you can only be ready to face it.
And if I knew who was after her, I wouldn’t be spending my nights sleeplessly trying to find them. As for her sister…her punishment has yet to be determined.
We’re still standing in front of the window and I’m all too aware of voyeur assholes with a photo-taking complex. I pull her away and into the kitchen, far enough away that if anyone is watching us this early morning, they won’t be able to see us from the shadows.
With my hands on Sayer’s waist, I pick her up and set her on the counter as I settle between her legs. My fingers brush against hers as we both rest them on her thighs. “I came back to feel at home because the only place I’ve ever felt at home was my granddad’s, but I don’t have that anymore.”
There’s still a dazed look in her face, even as I move my palms up and down her bare skin. The last time she was like this was the night she found the note in her apartment. And I remember wishing I knew how to comfort her in the way she needed. I didn’t think I could then and I’m not sure I can now, but the other night, when she threw the party, I recognized something in her that has always lived inside me.
Sayer Brooks is lonely.
And I have an idea on how to make her feel a little less.
“Go get dressed. We’re taking a little trip.”
The familiar high rise brings a wave of memories to the forefront of my mind, assaulting me one by one. So many hours, days, months, and years I spent here. A place I haven’t visited in a year, but one I know better than all the apps on my phone.
Noah parks the car and I turn toward him. “What are we doing here?”
“You said you only felt at home at your grandpa’s.” He rubs the back of his neck, tugs at the beanie on his head, not exactly meeting my eyes.
“So you brought me to his apartment?” My eyes are wide as they rove over the familiar architecture. Just the sight fills me to the brim. Elation, hope. Only for them to quickly vanish. Replaced with images I can no longer touch.
My memories are ghosts stalking the halls.
As I open the door and step onto the cold sidewalk, my nostrils flare at the intoxicating smell of pastries wafting from the bakery a few buildings down.
I walk toward the building and run my hand along the brick, over the burn marks Harlow made when she threw a flaming newspaper at me. It’s not a noticeable mark unless you know what to look for. And there it is. Faded charring over reddish brown bricks.
I feel Noah watching me as I take in how my life has changed while the building hasn’t. I’ve been broken and empty while the building remains strong and constant.
I guess some things just withstand time better.
Twisting around, I look at the man responsible for bringing me here. “Want to go to the roof?” There’s something I want to see. To check if it’s still there.
Without waiting for his response, I walk to the side of the building and reach for the fire escape. My fingers wrap around the iron bars and I pull myself up with a soft huff of breath.
As I climb the short distance, I hear the old metal creak behind me, knowing he followed. A small smile touches my lips.
When we get to the roof, I see string lights stretching across the sky above us. The small bodega owned by Helga, this woman a few years younger than my granddad who loves to garden, is still here which fills me with hope.
“Why’d we come up here?” Noah sounds annoyed and I find him glaring at the freshly ripped hole in his jacket.
“You didn’t have to follow.”
“You invited me.”
“And since when do you listen to me?”
“I brought you here, didn’t I?”
Touché.
“It’s weird,” he says.
“What is?”
“Being back.”
My granddad has lived in the same apartment complex since I was born. I almost forgot that Noah has probably spent as much time here as I did back when he was a teenager. Sometimes I’d find him here without my sister. It was weird, but that was my granddad. Always picking up strays, always charming the pants off everyone he meets. Granddad was the kind of man who sat at a coffee shop for an hour and left being best friends with the owner.
“I know,” I tell him, but already the cavity in my chest feels a little more full. “I haven’t been here since he died and my parents made me clean out his apartment.”
A look I can’t decipher passes over Noah’s face, but before I can ask about it, he steps closer. “He was a good man.”
A stinging pricks my eyes. I blink it away. “The best.”
Silence forms between us but it’s not awkward. It’s a silence that’s content in the memory of someone who touched us both.
“You weren’t at his funeral,” I tell him. None of them were. But then again, even Harlow didn’t show up.
“I was there.”
“You were?” I look at him, surprised. “I never saw you.”
“That’s because your parents kicked me out before I could make it through the doors of the church.” His jaw ticks. A year later and he’s still angry.
Hell. I’m angry. My parents have always lived to be in control. “They had no right.”
Noah chuckles, dark and pissed. “They think the world is at their mercy, Sayer. In their minds, they had every right.” He shrugs, the movement stiff. “But I’m not here to talk about your fucking parents. We’re here for you.”
We’re here for you.<
br />
Flutters attack my stomach. I don’t know what’s brought on this side of Noah, but it reminds me of the man I knew back in prep school when it was just him and I and we found each other at the lake on my parents’ property. Where we talked about nothing and everything, back when I thought he hung the moon and I dreamed of a life in the stars.
The past few weeks of being in his presence, I thought that version was gone for good. He’s still intense, he still wears his cold expressions, but there’s a softness present in those cool blue eyes of his.
It’s just as overwhelming as his intimidating stares.
“I love this view,” I blurt, tearing my gaze away from his, ignoring the prickling of my skin under his stare. It’s always present, always annoying.
I never want it to stop.
From the corner of my eye, I see Noah rotate to look out at the city as well. It’s different from his, where the skyline is all tall buildings and shiny metals.
This is part of the city that, like my granddad’s building, remains untouched by time. On the opposite side of Haven Harbor, away from the buildings with Kincaid stamped all over it is a neighborhood that feels like you’re transported back to the 1930s when the town was formed.
Where kids ride their bikes between alleys, along the sidewalks. A paperboy throws newspapers onto stoups. Everyone knows everyone, everyone looks out for everyone.
I think that’s why I always loved coming up here. The view brought me comfort, wrapped me in a hug while I felt nothing but coldness on the inside.
God, I sound pathetic. And I feel the pensive gaze of Noah, watching my profile diligently. Trying to get into my head. But that’s the last place I want him to be right now.
He doesn’t need to hear how starved for love I am on the inside. I barely admit it to myself. Who wants to say they have no one? Because that’s what I have. No one.
Sure, I have Brin and other friends, but they’re busy with their own lives. I don’t have any family. Not any that care, anyway.
I suck in a sharp breath, the move pierces the hollow in my chest.
It’s a truth I’ve long since avoided admitting.
I have no one.
“Sayer.”
Under the Lies Page 18
