Tell Me Pretty Lies

by Charleigh Rose

  “I need you to move, Shayne,” he grits out, his hands squeezing my ass.

  Bracing my hands on his thighs behind me, I ride him slowly, fascinated with watching his length slide in and out of me. Thayer’s eyes are glued to where we connect, watching intently. His palms smooth up my stomach, and when he brushes his thumbs across my nipples, I close my eyes, my head falling back.

  Soon, I feel the urge to move faster, so I sit forward, using his shoulders for leverage as I lift up, then slowly slide back down, then repeat the motion.

  “Just like that,” Thayer praises, his hands guiding my movements. “Good girl.” His words spur me on, and I start to move faster, needing more as pain gives way to pleasure. I brace my hands on his shoulders, keeping him close as I roll my hips. His hard stomach presses against my clit, giving me the friction that I need, and when his tongue flicks out against my nipple, I feel myself clench around him, eliciting a groan from him. They’ve always been sensitive, but now they’re even more so. I could orgasm from his mouth on me alone.

  “You keep doing that and I’m not going to last long,” he warns.

  “Neither am I,” I confess, leaning forward to bring my nipple to his lips again. This time, his teeth scrape over my piercing and then he’s pulling it deep into his mouth, sucking hard. It sends a jolt straight down to my core and I feel myself tightening around him again.

  “Oh my God,” I whine. I don’t even recognize my own voice. I don’t sound like me. I sound like some sex-crazed, needy version of myself, but I’m past caring. Thayer sucks harder and a rush of heat floods me as I feel myself grow even slicker.

  “Fuck this,” Thayer curses, flipping me over, then he’s sliding back into me. I gasp, my hips lifting off the couch as he pumps into me. “Listen to how wet you are.” He hooks my ankles over his shoulders, one of his knees on the ground and one pressing into the cushion as he fucks me, like he’s trying to get deeper. As if he’s not already imbedded in the deepest parts of me.

  “Thayer,” I warn. I can feel it building. His hair is wet with sweat, and his neck is corded with exertion. My hands smooth up his back to curl over his muscular shoulders, pulling him close to me.

  “Do it,” he says, already knowing. “Come all over me.”

  He slips a hand between us to stroke my clit and that’s all it takes. My head swims and my entire body tingles as I cry out, my nails digging into his damp skin before raking down his back. Thayer sucks in a breath and I quickly let go, thinking I hurt him, but then he takes one of my hands, putting it back where it was. I drag my nails down his back again and his mouth falls open, eyes squeezing shut. Using my free hand, I pull his face to mine, sucking on the twin piercings in the corner of his lip. Thayer tenses up before he slams into me once, twice, three times, and then he’s pulling out, his fist pumping his length, the muscles in his stomach flexing as his release spills onto my thigh.

  He collapses onto me, his breathing ragged. His cheek presses against my chest and he’s still halfway off the couch as we both attempt to catch our breath, the weight of what we just did finally creeping in. Eventually, he scoops me up, then flips our positions so I’m lying on top of him. He reaches an arm up to snatch the blanket off the back of the couch, spreading it over us. It’s only big enough to cover our feet up to my lower back, but Thayer is like a furnace beneath me, so it doesn’t matter.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  “No.” Yes.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” No.

  To be honest, I don’t know what I’m feeling. So many emotions overwhelm me at once, making it hard to settle on one. If I had to pick an adjective, I’d go with…nervous. I’ve been waiting for this moment for three years, and it was better than anything I’ve ever been able to conjure up in my imagination, but what now? Is this where Thayer turns cold and leaves me again?

  But then I feel his finger trace my spine up and down then back again, sending a shiver through me as goosebumps prick my skin. I relax a little, melting into him.

  I follow the branch-like design that crawls down his arm with the tips of my fingers. That night was one of the worst in my life—it had to be up there for him, too—so why would he want a permanent reminder? I can’t deny that it’s beautiful. Somehow it makes me feel closer to him, to have this memory, this connection, that no one else can touch.

  “Why did you get this?” I finally ask.

  Thayer doesn’t answer. Instead, he brings my wrist to his mouth, pressing his lips against the matching mark.

  “I’ll walk you home.”

  The brief moment of tenderness is gone, his mask back in place, and suddenly, I feel cold. I huff out a bitter laugh, peeling myself away from his warmth. I’m not surprised. I’d be stupid to think this would change anything. I stand, quickly pulling my underwear up my legs.

  “Shayne.”

  I don’t respond, searching the ground for the rest of my clothes. I throw my t-shirt over my head before shrugging my jacket on.

  “Shayne.”

  Tucking my hair behind my ear, I glance around the dimly lit space to make sure I’m not forgetting anything when I see my bra. Stuffing it into my jacket pocket, I walk over to where I left my shoes and slip them on.

  “Shayne, fucking stop for a minute!”

  I finally face him, finding him in his dress pants, his chest heaving, eyes conflicted.

  “It’s late. You should probably go check on Holden,” I dismiss him, keeping my tone light in an attempt to appear unaffected.

  He frowns, and the crease between his eyes growing deeper is the last thing I see before I walk away.

  Shayne

  It’s been a week since I handed my virginity to Thayer on a silver platter, and I haven’t seen or heard from him once. I spent my weekend doing homework and helping my mom clean out some of the cluttered bedrooms on the second floor, but I was too distracted to focus on either one. My thoughts vacillated between what happened in the barn and stumbling upon Christian’s secret. I feel guilty keeping it from Thayer, but I promised Christian I wouldn’t say anything. I just don’t know how long I can keep that promise. It doesn’t feel right to keep something like this a secret. I still can’t wrap my mind around it. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I’d never believe it. I guess monsters come in all different forms, even charismatic family men with friendly smiles. Christian’s prickly demeanor makes sense to me now.

  When Monday rolled around, Holden acted as if Friday night never happened, and I was happy to play along. Christian avoided me entirely, which wasn’t unexpected. I wanted to talk to him, to make sure he was okay, but the only time I saw him was at lunch in front of everyone, and even then, he left early. Seeing him made me feel slightly better because he didn’t seem to be in pain, and I wondered if that was because he wasn’t hurting, or if he was simply good at hiding it.

  Baker was noticeably absent, too. I thought back to their fight in the hall, knowing it’s somehow related. All these pieces to the puzzle, but I can’t seem to figure out how to make them all fit. I don’t even know if they’re from the same puzzle.

  “Shayne!” Valen snaps her fingers in front of my face, jerking me from my thoughts.

  “Sorry.” I shake my head, focusing my attention on her as we walk to our cars. “What’d you say?”

  “What’s up with you?” She narrows her eyes at me. “You’ve been distracted all day.”

  “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  Valen wiggles her brows. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with that sexy stepbrother of yours, would it?”

  I roll my eyes. “He’s not my stepbrother.” I feel like I should get it tattooed on my forehead at this point.

  “Shayne Elizabeth Courtland, did you fuck him?” Her eyes widen, and she stops short, facing me.

  “No!” I snap, looking around to make sure we don’t have an audience. How would she even begin to guess that based off that response? “I mean yes, but no,” I whisper.

/>   Her eyes shift back and forth, confused. “I’m not following.”

  “I’ll call you later,” I promise, not wanting to have this conversation here, pulling her in for a hug before heading for my car.

  “You’re an asshole!” she singsongs as I walk away.

  When I open the door, I find a hoodie folded up in my front seat. I scan the parking lot, searching for Thayer’s Challenger. It’s just a plain black hoodie, but I know it’s his. I’ve seen him wear it a thousand times. I bite down on my lip to keep from smiling, fighting the urge to do something stupid, like bring it to my nose and see if it smells like him.

  No. Don’t swoon, you idiot. You should be mad. He doesn’t get to give you emotional whiplash.

  Tossing it onto the passenger seat, I climb in, drop my phone into my lap, then stick my key into the ignition. Before I can back out of my spot, my phone buzzes between my thighs.

  Keep your window open tonight.

  The number is one I don’t recognize, but there’s only one person it could be. Nerves and excitement tangle together at the promise of seeing him. Ugh. I’ve never met someone so hot and cold in my life, not to mention infuriating, impossible, and entitled.

  Try telling that to the butterflies in my stomach.

  The rest of the night dragged on mercilessly slow. I’m sure it didn’t have anything to do with the fact that I spent every agonizing second anticipating whatever Thayer was up to. Did he plan to break this thing between us off? Did he plan on coming back for another taste like nothing happened? I told myself I wasn’t going to open my window, that I wasn’t going to be that girl who did whatever he said with no questions asked. But in the end, I left it open, with a promise to myself that I’d have a real conversation with him about how I felt. No touching. No sex. At least not before I’d gotten some real answers.

  I stand in my walk-in closet, wearing sleep shorts and a matching lace camisole. No. This won’t do. I need more clothes. Something frumpy and…unattractive. I don’t want him getting cocky, thinking I wore this for him. I shove my shorts down my thighs and pull my top off before switching it out for a pair of baggy sweatpants and a pastel tie-dye sweatshirt. I stand in front of the full-length mirror in my closet, rolling the waistband a few times so they stay in place. My face is stripped of makeup, hair in a messy bun. I look borderline homeless. Perfect.

  When ten o’clock rolls around and he’s still not here, I start to suspect he’s not coming. I climb into bed, swipe my phone and earbuds off the bedside table, and find an episode of my favorite podcast to pass the time. Five minutes. I’ll give him five more minutes.

  I don’t know how long has passed when I jerk upright, finding Thayer standing inside my window. Shit. I must have fallen asleep. I can only see his silhouette standing there, his frame tall and imposing. I flip the switch on the small lamp next to my bed, bathing the room in dim light, then I swing my legs over the side of my mattress, moving toward him.

  “Hi,” I say, the butterflies from earlier returning full force.

  “Hi.”

  We lock eyes, taking each other in, and suddenly, everything I had planned to say dies on my tongue. It’s only been a week, but I’ve missed him. His dark hair is perfectly disheveled, his lightning tattoo peeking out from the sleeve of his t-shirt. I guess he doesn’t care to cover it up now that I’ve seen it. I don’t know who moves first, but all of a sudden, I’m jumping into his arms, his hands gripping my ass as my legs wrap around his waist, our mouths colliding.

  Thayer groans appreciatively, his hands squeezing my ass before he hitches me up higher, never once breaking our kiss. He flips us around, slamming my back to the wall next to the window as his tongue continues to fuck my mouth. He’s never kissed me like this, his tongue moving slow and sure in a way that consumes me. I’d say he missed me, too.

  “Wait,” I say, pushing on his shoulders. “No kissing.”

  “Yes, kissing,” he argues, his lips finding my throat. “I want to kiss other things, too.” His words send a jolt straight between my legs, and I arch for him, giving him better access. He’s hard between my legs already as he nips and sucks the sensitive skin between my neck and collarbone, and I can’t keep from rolling my hips into him.

  “I’m mad at you,” I say aloud, and I don’t know if I’m talking to him or trying to remind myself.

  “I know.” His warm palm slips beneath my sweatshirt, his thumb brushing against my piercing making me shiver, my nipple tightening beneath his touch.

  “Explain.” My head falls back, every nerve ending tingling.

  “Later.”

  That single word cuts through the haze of lust, giving me the strength to stop this. Unlocking my legs, I slide down his body, then walk back over to my bed, putting some much-needed distance between us. If we’re going to do this, I need space.

  “Now.”

  Thayer turns to face me, raising an eyebrow.

  “The other night,” I start, knowing he’s not going to offer information willingly. I’m going to have to pry it from him, piece by piece. “Do you regret it? Do you regret…me?” My heart pounds in my chest, my stomach swirling with nerves waiting for his answer.

  The muscles in his jaw flex. He doesn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes tells me everything I need to know.

  Thayer

  Three long years of foreplay finally came to a head, and even in my wildest fucking dreams could I have imagined how good it would feel to finally be inside her. The fact that she was a virgin had me feeling more than a little conflicted. It complicates things, but at the same time, I fucking love that she waited for me. I tried to stay away. I even tried to go back to class. I thought some space from Shayne would do something to dull my need for her, but I should’ve known it wouldn’t work. She was gone for almost a year, and when she got back, it was like no time had passed at all. I made her out to be a villain in my mind, but when I look at her, all I see is my Shayne.

  “The other night—do you regret it?” Her eyes beg me to say no. “Do you regret…me?”

  I hesitate, not knowing how to answer that, and I see the hurt slice through her.

  “Then why are you here?” she asks, her voice growing in pitch. “If you regret me, then why come here?” She walks over to the desk in the corner of her room, retrieving the hoodie I left in her car earlier. “What is this?” she demands, holding it out in front of me. “You fuck me, then you disappear. You take your jacket back, then you leave me this?” She throws it at me and I make no move to catch it, letting it fall to the floor at my feet.

  “Coming here was a bad idea.”

  “Why?” she asks, her tone growing frustrated. “Because you’re afraid you might feel something? Maybe even feel something for me?”

  When I don’t respond, she continues.

  “Because God forbid you ever show me anything real, right? Every time you start to let me in, you shut down, then say or do something hurtful to push me away.”

  “You think I don’t feel?” I finally snap. “All I fucking do is feel since you’ve been back! And every time I see your face, I’m reminded of the night Danny died. The night I failed him. Because of you. And then I sleep with you, on the anniversary of his death of all days.”

  She draws back, clearly hurt by my words. But they keep falling out of my mouth, unable to stop. “You want me to talk about my feelings?” I ask, closing the distance between us. Shayne’s pretty features tug into a frown, her delicate jaw tensing. “Every time I’m with you, it feels like a betrayal to him.”

  And there it is. I didn’t fully realize it myself until this moment, but it’s the truth.

  “You blame me,” she says in a stunned whisper, and I can tell the thought never so much as entered her mind before. I see the wheels turning as she puts the pieces together. “So it doesn’t matter if Grey’s innocent, does it? It’s because of me. You hate me because you blame me.”

  “I blame me for getting too wrapped up in you. Even knowing wha
t your brother might have done, I still fucking want you. What does that say about me? That I can’t stay away from the sister of the guy who most likely killed my brother?

  “At first, I was angry. So fucking angry. I wanted to set fire to everything I loved, just to watch it burn. You just happened to be at the top of that list. So I pushed you away. I wanted to hurt you because I was hurting. Then you were gone, and that anger was all I had left. I used it like a lifeline, because as long as I felt that rage, I didn’t have to feel anything else.

  “Until you came back. You distracted me from the shit show my life had become, and I welcomed the distraction at first. I craved being around you, even just to piss you off. I needed our encounters. I told myself it was okay to touch you, to take a little bit of the fucking comfort it gave me, as long as I didn’t let it go too far.”

  I jam my fingers through my hair, pacing the floor.

  “But then I started to forget all the reasons I was so fucking angry in the first place, and suddenly, one day I woke up and Danny wasn’t my first thought in the morning.” I stop my pacing, looking into her eyes. “It was you.”

  Tears are streaming down her face now, and she makes no effort to wipe them away.

  “So yes. I regret it, but only because I want to do it again.” I take a step toward her. “And again. And again. I didn’t mean for it to go this far.”

  She swallows hard, crossing her arms. “Then we should end it now, Thayer.” She nods at her own words, as if trying to convince herself. “Because I don’t think I can handle losing you again if…” she trails off, angrily swiping at the tears that fall down her cheeks. “You have to be the one to do it. You have to walk away.”

  Eating up the distance between us with two big steps, I grasp her chin, forcing her to look at me. Her eyelashes stick together, wet with tears, her blue eyes brighter than normal.

  “What if I don’t know how?”

  “Then just…don’t.”