“Don’t be a smartass.”
I digest all of his words, even if I shouldn’t. “I never wanted to attack someone again.” But I know I’m going to have to. I admit this to him, of all people. Not Connor, not Ryke or Lily.
“If you don’t want to ruin the reality show, like you told me, then you’ve got to do something to him. He’ll bulldoze you, son. And if you won’t stick your f**king neck out, I will. I don’t want him near Lily. She’s like a daughter to me.” He takes a large gulp of his coffee.
It’s like there’s a war inside my body with no signs of surrender. I attack Scott, I feel like shit. I do nothing, I feel like shit. What the f**k is left for me?
“Don’t help me,” I suddenly say to my dad. “I need to do this on my own.”
He nods. “Just make sure you f**king hit him where it hurts most.”
I don’t even know where that is.
The worst part about being the underdog: I never win until the last minute. So I dig and claw and scrape, struggling in hope that in the final act, I’ll rise above.
But what happens if I never do?
23
0 years : 07 months
March
LILY CALLOWAY
The middle of the afternoon in the middle of the week has to be the most depressing time. Stuck directly in the center where no one wants it. Lonely. When the house has emptied. People at work. People at lunch. No one here. Not with me at least.
I’m A. L. O. N. E.
Even the cameramen have all but scattered.
Right now would be the moment I’d beat myself up over procrastinating on schoolwork. But I finished my online assignments two hours ago.
Go me.
I thought I’d feel more accomplished, but celebrating by myself isn’t nearly as fun as doing other things by myself. Things I’m no longer allowed to do.
Carefully, I crawl onto the bed with the latest edition of Uncanny X-Men. It’s not my comic, and Lo has a strict “don’t read my comics before me” rule. Something about me creasing the pages or smudging the pictures. But boredom calls for risks, and I’m willing to risk his anger for Cyclops.
Five panels. That’s how long I make it before my mind drifts. I picture Lo. His abs. His dimpled smile and sharp jawline. I have to stop myself before my imagination leads to more nefarious places, ones with nudity and gyrating bodies.
My bedroom door opens just as I look back at the comic. Lo stands in the doorway like an apparition from my mind. Maybe he is.
I pinch myself.
Ouch…
Lo gives me a look. “I’m real, Lil.” He closes the door behind him and sets his leather briefcase on the desk. A gift from his father. It’s hard to pull my eyes from it. A year ago, that briefcase didn’t belong in our picture. Now it has a specific spot it rests.
It doesn’t feel out of place. Not like I once thought it would.
When I return my gaze to Lo, I realize he hasn’t moved. He carefully watches me the way one would a lightning storm. With curiosity, concern, and rapt attention.
“If you’re real,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “Then why aren’t you at work?”
“That’s the funny thing about working for yourself,” he says with a wry smile. “I can set my own hours, take my work home, and spend the afternoon making love to a girl.”
Oh…
Middle of the days and middle of the weeks don’t seem so lonely anymore. He doesn’t move closer and my breathing has already betrayed me. At least my body isn’t doing anything spastic…yet.
“Just a girl?” I ask. “Not a specific one?”
His eyes flit from my head slowly down the length of my body. I become so wet in response. Damn him.
He licks his lip and I have to grip the sheets not to jump off the bed and rush him. I’m so not used to horny Loren Hale coming to seduce me. I’m always the overly aroused, emotionally corrupt one. It’s a nice change, even if my body is screaming to go go go.
“I have a girl in mind,” he tells me. “But here’s the thing…” He begins to unbutton his shirt, and I start a mantra in my head. Focus on his words, Lily, not his abs. Words. Not abs. Words. Not abs. Definitely not his cock. “Last time I made love to her, she ended up crying when we finished.”
My head whips up. “I didn’t cry,” I defend. “I had salt sweat in my eye. That’s a thing, you know.”
“She cried,” he continues without missing a beat, his lips curving. “She had these big tears in her eyes and she turned into this sappy love monster, blubbering about how much she loved me.”
He starts moving this time, and I try hard not to smile.
“I did not.” I bite my lip and then give up, my grin spreading. “If I remember correctly, I told you that I could feel your soul. It was poetic.”
His knees knock into mine and his shirt slides open, revealing his bare chest. But I don’t have to chant my mantra any longer. His amber eyes and sharpened words have my undivided attention. The humor floats away and his hand glides to my cheek. “It was beautiful,” he breathes.
Thoughts creep into my head, and I can’t stop my mouth. “Did you come home just for a nooner?”
I internally groan. Way to go, Lily. Ruin the moment.
He reads my embarrassment and breaks into a smile. “I’m not being clear enough?”
“Ummm…” My mind has blanked. Flat-lined. I am brain dead.
He stirs me back to life by grabbing my hand and placing it right over his pants. On his erection. “Do we have an understanding now?”
Oh yeah.
We’re f**king.
Or making love.
Both. Maybe both.
I’m dancing and hoola-hooping on the inside. He throws his shirt on the floor and my eyes meet his. I’m not removing my hand. It’s just going to stay right there. “You know what this means?” I ask.
He narrows his eyes and leans forward, causing me to lie back on the bed. His fingers find my jean’s buttons, not waiting any longer. “You’re going to have to help me out with this one, Lil.”
I frown. “They’re normal buttons.”
He smiles again. I could get used to that. “Not the buttons. Help me with your question.”
I flush. Right. “Well, you came to me for sex. You’re the one undressing me. You’re practically begging me to f**k you.”
“Am I?” Even with his lips together and flat, he’s still smiling. I see it in his eyes.
I nod wildly. “Oh yeah. The tables have turned, Loren Hale. This is a monumental day. You are aroused before me.” I grin.
He shimmies my jeans to the ground, and I’m too elated to realize that my panties have gone with them. When his fingers enter me, I gasp and drop my hand off his pants. His fingers pulse just slightly, and my head collapses back on the mattress. “You feel aroused to me,” he says softly.
Fuck.
“Key word: Before,” I reply in a staggered breath.
I’m about to lift myself on my elbows, but I don’t have time. He doesn’t give me warning before he replaces his fingers with his erection, entering me fully. I cry out in euphoric pleasure. Every inch of me thrums, like an instrument vibrating in blistering joy.
He hikes my leg over his hip, deepening himself. He doesn’t pull away, not yet. His lips find mine and he kisses me fervently, without pause or hesitation. Ever since I started recovery, I could see the reluctance in Lo’s eyes. Like a nightly passenger to our passion. I never thought he’d gain enough confidence in himself, enough trust in me, and enough hope in our relationship to let all those hesitations go. To make love to me so unrestrained that every movement is an impulse and nothing takes a second thought.