Two Hearts and a Lie (Offstage Book 2)

by Rica Grayson

  Blaire

  I rub my eyes, trying to chase the sleepiness away.

  The car had stopped at some point, the music from the radio gone, replaced, instead, by the gentle pitter-patter of raindrops.

  “Blaire, we’re here,” Ryan says, and his hand nudges my shoulder gently.

  I blink, taking in my surroundings. We’re parked in a garage? The haze of my sleepiness melts away. Are those racing cars? Dad would freak if he saw them. But remembering my dad is at the hospital, my smile drops. I turn to look at Ryan again. “This isn’t my apartment,” I blurt out the obvious.

  “There’s tea inside,” he offers. A hot pot of tea in this miserable weather. Tempting.

  He leans closer, and his voice low, he adds, “And a hot tub.”

  Oh my God. Ryan and a hot tub. Images of us in a hot tub run through my head. Why did he have to say that? My breathing turns shallow, but I look away. “That’s not fair.”

  “You won’t drown in it. Promise.” Heat spreads over my body at his words.

  “Are you bribing me?” I ask. Because that hot tub may be great, but if he’s in it, I’m so screwed.

  “Absolutely.” He grins wide, unapologetic.

  And for once, I stop thinking. Because Shelly was right. I’m tired of always trying to push him away, and more, today taught me that if you love someone, you worked to keep them in your life. I don’t want to ever regret the lost time. Because I never even told him how I felt. “Okay,” I answer softly.

  Maybe he isn’t mad at me. Maybe this could work… Or maybe he’ll decide this is the perfect time for closure. I wince at the thought.

  He opens the car door, and I follow behind him. We’re both quiet as we walk in. As if understanding, without words, that I need it. That I need him. He’s here, and it’s enough. Still, I can’t be more grateful that he didn’t let me deal with everything alone today. Despite the craziness of his own life, he’s here.

  I watch how he moves around his own kitchen, and I catch details I can’t believe I missed before. I’m struck by how normal it looks. No awards staring me in the face. A charcoal brick wall lines the side of the kitchen where his stove and counters are. I see magnets on his fridge—souvenirs from his travels. An Eiffel Tower magnet on one end, a Mount Fuji magnet on the other. A paw print magnet, too. This makes me smile. I rearrange the alphabet letters on his fridge to spell “BLAIRE”.

  “Feel like tacos?” he asks behind me.

  “Sure.”

  He stops when he reads my name and his lips quirk up.

  Oops. Caught. I try to jumble the letters again, but he stops me before I can. “Leave it,” he says. He grabs a tray of tacos from the fridge and pops it in the oven.

  He passes me a plain white mug and pours me what looks like green tea.

  “Thank you.” My thumb traces over the handle of the mug. I wonder what Mom and Dad are having for dinner now. The plans shift in my mind. My short trip aside, it seems like work had absorbed a lot of my time lately that I’ve neglected the things that matter.

  “What’s on your mind?” he asks, watching my reaction.

  All my thoughts run through my mind, until I have to let them out. “I’m scared. So scared that I’ve wasted all this time. That maybe I could’ve done more.”

  His large hand closes over mine. “Stop. You’ll drive yourself mad thinking. Only means you get to decide what you get to do from this point on.” He’s right.

  I take another sip of the tea. “I’ve been so focused on looking ahead, setting up new goals, I haven’t thought to slow down a little.”

  He doesn’t judge me—he simply listens, his patience something I draw strength from.

  A sound pierces against the quiet of the moment.

  “The—the tacos are ready,” I burst out.

  But his keen gaze didn’t miss a thing. Damn it.

  After dinner, Ryan grabs his keys from the table. “Left something at the car. Be right back.”

  I nod, looking at his vinyl record collection. My finger traces over each record in his shelf. Garth Brooks. John Mayer. He has a record player too. Fancy.

  I hear the door shut and see Ryan carrying some sort of package. Wait a minute…

  I squeal, thrilled. “My notebook!”

  He passes it to me. Our fingers brush against each other, so quick but awareness zips through me. Already it seems like this morning was a distant memory. I glance at him as I flip through the pages quickly with a thumb. “Thank you. How do you have it? I thought I brought this with me.”

  “You dropped it when we left my mom’s place,” he answers.

  Oh. A lot had happened since then. I picked up a new notebook, too, thinking I just had my purple one lying around somewhere.

  “I was wondering when you’d notice. And no, I didn’t read it.”

  “I didn’t ask,” I mutter. I set it down on a round glass table beside a dark gray sofa.

  “I saw it in your eyes. You were curious, admit it.”

  I was. And yet, somehow, it doesn’t seem that important anymore, whether he read it or not. When had that happened? “A little,” I confess. “But you’ve heard me before already.” There’s nothing left to hide anymore. But still, I don’t know what he’s thinking, bringing me here after saying we were over.

  I press my fingers to my temples. Ugh. Trying to figure Ryan out is impossible.

  “Another headache?” he asks. “I know a cure for that.”

  I remember the last time that I had a headache and how he dealt with it.

  A knowing smile touches his lips. “Be right back.” He slips by a glass sliding door and I only stare.

  Oh my God. I don’t understand him at all.

  “The tub’s ready,” Ryan says after he returns. “If you still want to.” I hear the dare in the question.

  Butterflies take flight in my belly. Why does it sound like he’s asking about more than the hot tub?

  My brain goes blank. “T-that was fast,” is all I think to say.

  His lips curve up in a sinful smile. “I’ve been planning to use it tonight. You came at the perfect time.”

  “Oh.” It will be fine, I tell myself. And I don’t know what he’s planning, but for once, I stop resisting. “Yes”.

  Chapter 25

  Blaire

  I test the water’s temperature with my fingers. Perfect. I sink into the tub, warm and inviting.

  Something makes a bell-like sound from the distance and Ryan mutters a curse. “I gotta take this. Won’t be long.”

  I look up at the dark sky, clouds heavy. As soon as he’s gone, I’m alone to my thoughts once more.

  What am I even doing here in Ryan Carson’s house? What am I doing, fooling myself when I know this will only hurt like hell tomorrow?

  As if hearing my thoughts, he emerges from the door. “Sorry. Just had a call about a meeting tomorrow.”

  “Oh.” Panic starts to bubble in me. Was that a sign for me to leave? My heart sinking, I make a move to rise from the hot tub.

  His brows furrow, uncomprehending. “Where are you going?”

  “Sorry. If you’ve got a meeting tomorrow… I should probably go. I don’t want to take much of your time.” Because I need to know if we’re still okay. We left so many things unsaid last time. I kept pushing him away, and I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that it was over.

  Eyes pinning me to the spot, he states, “The meeting’s late in the afternoon.” Oh. “I can’t think of anything else more important than this.”

  My breath comes out in a rush. His words take root in my chest and stay there. But still, he doesn’t make a move to get closer, a hand running over his jaw. “That you would even think that, Blaire… Fuck. I don’t understand it.”

  What does he mean? I thought last time he finally made everything clear. I’m only making it simpler for him. “I thought… I didn’t want to assume after you called me and said it was over.” The worst part is knowing it would end and still not being
prepared for it. “I understand if, after that night, you decided you didn’t want me,” I admit, each word like a shard of glass. I realize I don’t know how to keep him in my life. Even worse, I’m scared that when I tell him how I feel now, I’ll lose him anyway. Because that’s all it’s ever been with us—this vicious cycle of repelling and attracting.

  He crosses the distance between us in a heartbeat. What I see in his face startles me—his cool has crumpled, frustration casting all harsh planes and a set to his jaw. “As if that’s even possible. As if that would make me see you as anyone less,” he bites out, each word sharp. “It made me wonder what the hell happened.” He’s angry, I realize, and his reaction baffles me.

  “One moment I had you, the next you changed your mind.” His words sting, reviving a long-buried ache. “Was it that easy for you, Blaire? Putting a lid on your emotions? Pretending you didn’t want me?”

  Is that what he thinks? I stand up abruptly, climbing out. Every part of me goes cold at the words he’s thrown at me. Coming from him, it’s as if he’d struck me.

  “Shit. Blaire, wait.”

  I can’t take it anymore. Because he can’t be any more wrong. “No, it wasn’t!” Damn him. I push him away, and he lets me, but before I have a chance to leave, he captures my wrist, not letting me escape this. Not letting me escape him. Gently, he pulls me towards him and turns me around to face him.

  He makes me feel so much, I don’t know how much more I can handle. Having no safety net, having no more secrets between us leaves me feeling as if all my defenses have been stripped.

  Words tumble out before I can stop them. “Because it’s all I know to do around you. Because you’d say something to make me cry and I would still think about it after, not understanding what fault you found in me.” And he must’ve found plenty. Because even though he teased me relentlessly because he noticed me, the voices in my head that pointed out all my flaws stuck with me.

  “Blaire—”

  “And I was doing fine. I knew where we stood. I accepted that we were never going to get along.” I’m so flustered and worked up, the tight ball coiled in me unraveling, and I can’t seem to stop. “And then you—you stormed into my life and made me fall in love all over again. But you’re Ryan Carson, what could you possible see in me?”

  I don’t know if he knows what it cost me to let all the words pour out. It’s as if everything locked in my chest for the longest time ripped free, and the ache in my chest eases.

  “I see plenty,” he says, voice dangerously quiet. “I see a woman who persisted and carved out her dream for herself. Who had the guts to do it even when people told her she couldn’t.”

  My breath catches at the absolute, unwavering conviction that rings in his voice. “Who saw all this fame and looked past it. Because it never really mattered to her.” His hands ease down my arms. “A little mouthy.” His lips curl up, seeing my face. “A little flighty, always one foot out the door,” he adds. “And she doesn’t see that all this time, it’s always been her.”

  Eyes wide, my mouth parts in wonder. It’s like fan fiction and the real world colliding. Because no way. I can’t believe this is happening. Because I’m finally understanding how he sees me.

  He pulls a towel from a chair and drapes it over my shoulders. I barely noticed the cold, and now, savoring its warmth, I tug the edges closer.

  My hand touches my wet cheek. Why am I crying? Is this another dream? I’ve had many of these before.

  “I fucked up. You needed space, I gave you space.” That’s why he stayed away those two weeks? “That was a mistake, wasn’t it?”

  I look away, but his knuckle grazes my jaw, urging me to look up. His thumb brushes a tear away. “I wanted you to be sure,” he continues.

  I frown. “Sure of?”

  His expression darkens. “You saw how it was with just a short hospital visit.”

  All the people. All the paparazzi the past week. And even way before that, the surge of hate comments on social media as soon as we were seen together.

  “I heard they’ve been bothering you.” How did he know that? “This is my world,” he says plainly. “It’s chaotic as fuck and you won’t have a moment of peace.”

  I take it in, what this will mean for me, and I find I don’t care. People can think what they want, but I know I’d weather it all with him.

  I can see conflict tear through him. “It can be hell, Blaire. But it’s what I chose. I’m sorry for even pulling you into it.”

  Oh, silly man. I know all this already. But he’s not done. “Just say you don’t want a part in it, I’ll drive you home. Forget this ever happened.”

  My heart almost stops. No.

  His words. His touch. How careful he is in handling me. I shut out the voice in my head that tells me that this could end in heartbreak. I wonder if he can tell how fast my heart is racing now, or how his words make my stomach dip.

  Because I understand—he’s giving me a choice, and it’s worth more than anything he’s ever given me.

  I take a small step forward. “I’m staying,” I declare. There’s a moment of silence as he absorbs my words.

  I shift on my feet, not quite able to look at him. I just handed him my heart, and he could just as easily break it.

  But he cups the back of my head gently, and I look up at him. And instead of finding rejection and regret like I expect, his eyes are steady and warm, like a stormy ocean finally gone still.

  He grins, slow and sure. “Wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

  “No fair. You keep winning,” I mutter.

  “You haven’t noticed? Fuck, Blaire, but you always win.”

  “That’s not…” I bite my lip in thought. Okay, so maybe there’s some truth to it.

  Desire flares in his eyes, dropping to my lips. “I promised a hot tub. We haven’t really used it.” His voice turns rough. An erotic thrill chases down my spine, delicious heat pooling in my belly. I watch as a bead of water trickles down his pecs, all the way down to his hard abs. I can’t tear my gaze away if I tried.

  He eases his palms down my arms. His knuckles move to graze my ribs, only to rest by my waist. I shiver, and it isn’t from the cold. My breathing turns shallow.

  “Always noticed you.” Lips brush my shoulder, warm, light touches that leave a trail of heat. How had I never noticed that before? “You walk into a room and I can’t help but be drawn to you.”

  My hands trace over his features, reveling in everything that’s Ryan Carson. Everything I’d dreamed of, and more. He kisses the palm of my hand, and it tingles where his lips touch. He dips his head, mouth capturing mine in a kiss I feel all the way to my toes. He nips at my bottom lip. Then he soothes over the quick bite of pain, and when my lips part, his tongue strokes over mine, sensual and possessive. My hand grips his hair, pulling him close, needing his skin against mine.

  His hands roam over my spine, before he unclasps my bra. It’s gone the next moment, the cool air touching my skin.

  I immediately cover my breasts. “Stop! I’m flat chested.”

  He blinks. “So?”

  So? “You mentioned it before. Years ago.”

  “Ah. The time you threw peanuts at me.”

  I glare at him. “You deserved it.”

  “So I did.” He kisses the top of my breasts. It feels like worship. “I’m sorry, Blaire. I was a dick.”

  Wow. A real apology from him for what he said before. “A big one.” My arms fall to my sides.

  “Don’t know what I was thinking,” he murmurs. He blows at my nipple, and pleasure jolts straight to my core. His mouth closes over the tip, and then he sucks.

  Oh, God. I cry out at the onslaught of sensation.

  His thumb rolls over my nipple on my other breast.

  “Sweet.” His forehead touches mine. “You know what you do to me every time you mouth off to me?”

  “Uhmm. No?” I have no idea what he’s saying anymore.

  He chuckles at my response. “Then
let me spell it out for you, Red.” His lips touch the side of my neck, just a soft brush along my skin, trailing all the way to the back of my ear.

  “It makes me hard.” His words hold a tantalizing edge. “And it makes me want to fight back...” His hands slip just above my panties and lower, cupping my ass in his hands and pulling me against him. Pressed to his front, I gasp, feeling every inch of his length. “... And give back as good as I got.”

  His mouth claims mine once more, and I kiss him back. Desperate need rises from within me.

  He pulls off his boxers and his cock springs free. Oh. My. God. He reaches for his wallet tossed on a seat beside the tub and pulls out a condom. He rolls it on. He watches, heavy-lidded as I slip my fingers on the sides of my panties and tug them off.

  My legs wrap around him. His guides his cock into me.

  “Okay?” he asks.

  “Y-yes.”

  He pulls back, and then he’s deeper this time, filling me. His hands squeeze my hip as he repeats the same motion, each delicious friction hitting the sensitive spot inside me. He’s rough, and yet he’s careful in the way he holds me.

  I can’t speak. I can’t think. His eyes drink me in, desperation mounting, until sharp need builds up inside me, threatening to consume me inside out. I explode around him, hard. But he keeps going. It’s untamed, the need growing urgent. Hands cupping my breasts, stoking the flames higher. Hands I’ve only seen and admired from afar, now on me. Eyes that captivated me, now looking at me as if I’m his world. His thumb drags over my clit. He sends me over the edge once more, and I come around him, longer this time. He groans, breathing turning ragged, and his own release follows—no more finesse, the rein on his control falling apart. Spots fill my vision for a moment at the intensity of it. Wow.

  I take a moment to catch my breath and cup his cheek, overwhelmed. Fear that he could walk away. Uncertainty about tomorrow. And more, the indelible mark he left on me. “I love you,” I confess in earnest. This time I’m not too afraid to say it. Maybe he’ll say them back. Maybe he won’t. But after everything, I know there’s no way either of us are walking away unscathed.