The chill always in my soul.
I’m liquefying into something else,
Someone I don’t understand,
Someone different.
Someone not so handcuffed to my past?
I wish.
God, I wish, that were true.
That the stress of my life was coming to an end instead of just beginning.
She prods the tip of her boot against mine. “You are doing okay with that, right? I mean, with all the touching we did in class?”
I twist the tuning pegs on the top of the guitar handle. “I’m fine. I promise. You don’t need to constantly worry about me.”
“That will never happen, so get over it.”
Quiet stretches between us as I work on tuning my guitar and Lyric gets up to mess with one of the amps. She’s wearing a short black dress with red flowers on the bottom. Every time she bends over, she flashes me. I don’t look away. I have tried too many times and realize how pointless it is to fight my attraction to her anymore.
“Oh, I thought of a name for our band.” She stands up straight, tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear, and then her brows dip. “Wait. Were you just checking out my ass?”
I shrug, staring at my guitar. “Maybe.”
She laughs as she plops down beside me. “I so just busted you.”
“Well, I wouldn’t call it busting me since you willingly stripped down in front of me in the car. I’ve seen pretty much everything already.”
She teasingly bumps her shoulder into mine. “Are you trying to flirt with me right now, Shy Boy?”
“Maybe a little.”
She sweeps my hair out of my face. “You’re so adorable.”
I restrain a smile. “You do realize guys don’t like being called adorable, right?”
“Yeah, right. You totally love that I do. Love that I give you little nicknames that no one else gets. Admit it.”
“No way am I giving you that much power over me.”
She grins wickedly. “Oh, yes you will.” She tickles my side and my pulse soars erratically. “Because you love giving me what I want.”
“True,” I easily admit.
Her lips part to speak, but the buzz of her phone interrupts her. She scoops it up from Sage’s stool, reads the message, and frowns.
“Who is it?” I set my guitar down on the floor.
“My dad.” She texts something back then sets the phone down on the cushion next to her. “He was wondering where I was, like he doesn’t know. I’m at the same place I am every Friday night.”
“Are you two still fighting over the club thing?”
“That and the fact that he and my mom think I’m bipolar.”
“I’m sure they don’t really think you are. They just worry about you.”
“Yeah, but instead of whispering about it behind my back, they should have told me.” She reclines back on the sofa. “All my life, I’ve been taught to just say things how they are, not to hold things in or keep secrets. I was taught to be honest even when it’s hard. They should be the same way with me.”
“I know. I’m not saying what they did wasn’t wrong.” I relax beside her. “But don’t be mad at them forever, especially when they care so much about you.”
“I won’t, at least over the bipolar thing. The band thing, on the other hand . . .” She faces me, bringing her leg up onto the cushion and tucking it under her ass. “I just really wish he’d give us a chance, you know? I’m starting to wonder if he has confidence in my talent at all. Maybe this whole concern for my mental stability is an excuse.”
“I’m sure that’s not what it is. He knows how talented you are,” I assure her. “He’s probably just worried about you entering that life. He does know firsthand how intense it is to be a rock star.”
“I’m not trying to be a rock star to get famous.” She flops her head back and stares at the ceiling. “I just want to perform onstage and share my art with people who want to listen.”
“You’re too beautiful for your own good.”
“So are you.”
We stare at each other until the heat of the moment becomes too much.
Looking away, I collect my guitar from the floor. “Lyric, we will get to perform. Even if it’s not at your father’s club opening; we’ll get our chance one day.”
“I know we will. I just wish it were sooner. You know how impatient I can be.”
“Yes, I do,” I agree, positioning the guitar on my lap.
She narrows her eyes at me, but then laughs. “I’m just anxious. That’s all. No biggie.”
“Anxious about what?”
Her attention drifts to the wall covered in albums. “I don’t know. Stuff.”
“Lyric Scott.” I splay my fingers across her cheek and force her to look at me. “What’s going on?”
“Did you just last name me?” She elevates her brows accusingly.
“Call it payback for all those times you’ve called me Shy Boy and dude. Now, fess up. What’s going on? I can tell something’s bothering you.”
“I’m just worried that I might not have it in me, and then all of this,” she gestures around the garage covered with albums, instruments, amps, and ashtrays, “will just have been a waste of my time.”
“You do have it in you. Your voice, it’s . . .” I don’t even know how to describe the sound of Lyric singing. The sultry tone of her voice is almost unreal. “It’s unearthly. Unreal. Beautiful.”
A grin curves at her lips. “Unearthly? Wow, that’s poetic. If I didn’t know any better, I’d guess you were trying to flirt with me again.”
I give a half shrug. “I’m just being truthful.”
Her green eyes bore into me, and desire pulsates through my veins, desire I’m terrified to act on.
Just grab her and kiss her.
Crush your lips to hers.
Drink her soul
And give her yours.
“I know you are,” she says. “And it’s not a lack of confidence in my ability that I’m worried about. It’s my confidence in my ability to perform in front of people other than you, Sage, and Nolan.”
“You’ll be fine, and I’ll be there to help you.”
“I know you will.” Her grin broadens as she shifts her body toward mine, nearly bursting with excitement. “You should just start singing duets with me. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about being up on stage, singing solo.”
“You should probably hear me sing before you start making plans,” I tell her, but she just stares at me expectantly. “I’m not going to sing for you.” I lean over the armrest to prop my guitar against the wall. “I’m not a singer.”
“Have you ever tried?” She inches closer, and strands of her hair tickle my cheek.
The feel of her warm breath and nearness sends a shiver through my body. Images of laying her down on the sofa and kissing her passionately flood my mind and make it almost impossible to breathe steadily, let alone reply to her question.
Swallowing hard, I shake my head.
“But you write lyrics.”
My lips part in surprise. “How do you know?”
She chews on her lip, looking guilty. “Don’t be mad at me, but there was this one time when you left your notebook open on your bed. I honestly thought it was just schoolwork and was going to shove it out of the way. Then I saw what was written on the opened page.”
“Did you read the entire book?”
She places her hands on the armrest behind me, pinning me between her arms as if she’s afraid I’m going to run. “I would never do that. I just read the one page then set it aside. It was good, though, what I read. Sad, but really, really moving. You have a hidden talent, Shy Boy. One I’ll admit I’m a little jealous of.” She wets her lips with her tongue.
I’m uncertain exactly what she’s attempting to do—if she’s unintentionally trying to turn me on or not. Regardless, my cock is getting hard inside my jeans. My body only gets more muddled when she moves near enough that her chest brushes
mine.
“Which one was it?” I struggle to concentrate on the conversation as her body heat clouds my thoughts.
“Huh . . .” She’s as equally distracted as I am.
“Which song was it that you read?”
“I think it was called ‘You Devour Me.’” She stretches her arms farther toward the armrest, arching her back and aligning her chest, hips, and legs with mine.
I can’t fucking breathe.
Focus.
Focus on something else.
Focus on the song.
“You Devour Me” is a song I wrote about her not too long after we shared our first kiss, when I was confused about what was going on inside me and thought I was going to lose my mind. So damn confused all the time, all I could do was write to free myself from the confusion. I ended up writing a lot. And wrote about Lyric frequently.
You seep into my skin, devour me whole.
Beg me to cave in, give in to what I fear.
You make my body burn. Make my heart bleed.
Make me feel alive. Make it so fucking hard to breathe.
Nothing feels right whenever you’re near.
Everything feels wrong whenever you disappear.
Fuck, I can’t figure out what you’re doing to me.
What you make me feel. Was never supposed to be.
“We should sing it,” she breathes against my mouth. “I could play guitar for one set, and you could sing.” She sucks her lip between her teeth as her gaze zeroes in on my lips.
“I’m pretty sure I’m tone deaf.” I fight an internal tug-of-war with my mind and body.
Take and devour her.
Deal with the consequences later.
Or push her away.
And drift farther away from having her.
“Then I could sing it,” she says in a raspy voice I’ve never heard come out of her mouth before. It’s like we’re talking dirty without actually talking about anything dirty. “Unless that’s weird.”
“Weird?” I have no idea what we’re talking about anymore.
“Yeah. I mean, it seemed like you wrote the song about someone. Maybe it’s personal.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready to sing it aloud. Maybe one day I’d be okay with you singing it, though.” Maybe one day I’ll be okay enough to admit the lyrics are about my true feelings for her. Maybe one day I’ll actually be able to fully admit them to myself.
She hooks her arms around me. “I’m so glad you said that. It’s such a good song.” She squeezes me, crushing the air from my lungs.
My arms enclose around her waist and I nuzzle my face into the curve of her neck. She sighs contentedly as my fingers travel down her spine and sketch a delicate path along the bottom of her back. I bite my lip to restrain a moan when she shudders. “The Window” by Mars Volta fills up the silence between us as she nips at my earlobe with her teeth, and my body quivers uncontrollably.
“I know we never actually fully reached a conclusion to what was okay between us,” she whispers with another graze of her teeth, “and what was not, but—”
I cut her off, turn my head, and press my lips to hers so roughly our teeth clank together. Probably the least sexiest kiss ever. Add that to the fact that I can’t figure out what to do with my hands—never seem to be able to—and she should leave me high and dry. Instead she presses closer, rolling her hips against mine as she nips at my lip and tugs at my hair.
“You feel so good,” she moans breathlessly as she rocks her hips again. “Is this okay? You’re not feeling anxious, are you?”
Not this time. This time, I am way less stressed out. I feel way more in control over my head, at least for the moment, anyway.
Another mind-blowing movement of her hips and I damn near explode. Something possesses me—an urge I don’t understand—and I’m suddenly flipping us over.
A quiet whimper escapes Lyric’s lips as her back hits the sofa cushions.
“Are you okay?” I wiggle my body over hers, still feeling out of my element.
Push or pull?
Want or desire?
Stay or flee?
Her blonde hair looks like a halo around her head, her green eyes are glazed over, and her lips are swollen from the intense kiss. She’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever laid eyes on. Will ever lay eyes on.
“More than okay.” She cups the back of my head and guides my mouth to hers for another passionate kiss.
Our tongues twine together as I grind my body against hers. A shudder then another grind. I feel like I’m dying inside, yet at the same time, fully alive. My body and mind are a walking contradiction, never wanting the same thing.
For the moment, my body ends up winning as I glide an unsteady hand up Lyric’s dress. Her legs part, and I settle between her with my hand on her ass. She shivers, and her head falls back as she gasps.
Terrified, I start to pull away, but she reaches between us and places her fingers over mine, holding my hand there. I kiss her fiercely until my lips feel swollen then move my mouth down her neckline. Little whimpers and moans keep escaping from her lips the lower I delve. By the time I reach the top of her dress, I’m pulsating with need.
She rolls her hips against mine again as she grabs my hair. Glancing up, I slide one of the straps of the dress down while watching her expression. When her chin dips down, her hungry gaze collides with mine. She wants this, wants me. I don’t even know how to process that fact, so I try not to, try not to think about anything as I slip the strap down and expose her breast.
“Oh, my God,” I whisper. I’m as hard as a rock. Through the yearning, the fear is there, residing under my skin.
I won’t give in. I won’t give in.
Lyric grasps my hand that’s still on her ass, but I manage to pull away. I take her other hand, and with our fingers linked, I move her arms above her head, then I lower my mouth to her breast, and suck her nipple into my mouth.
Her back bows, our bodies meld together. I’m about to lose it, yet somehow, I continue going, sucking and tracing circles with my tongue. Lyric gasps and moans and writhes underneath me until she finally cries out, stabbing her nails into my hands as she comes apart.
The pierce of her nails almost causes me to tumble into a memory.
See the darkness eating around you.
It will one day consume you.
Because we’re not going to let you out of here
Until you’re so ruined you’ll never be good again.
No, no, no.
I don’t want to see it.
I force the images out of my mind, returning to reality just in time to see Lyric blinking up at me.
“Are you okay?” she asks as she traces her finger across my collarbone.
I nod, still in shock over what just happened between us. “Are you?”
“I’m more than okay.” Her hand glides down my spine to the bottom of my back, just above the waistband of my jeans, and her fingers play with the fabric of my boxers.
Every single one of my muscles wind into knots, and the moment begins to crumble.
I don’t—can’t—be touched.
She must see the terror on my face because she quickly removes her hand. “I’m sorry. When I go too far, just say so, okay—”
The sound of the door swinging open cuts her off. I swiftly jerk the strap of her dress over her shoulder, and then we both bolt upright, tugging our clothes into place. We don’t move fast enough, and Nolan and Sage get a clear idea of what’s been going on.
“Oh,” Nolan says, glancing between Lyric and me. Then he busts up laughing, hunching over and cradling his stomach. “Dude, next time, lock the door.”
Sage doesn’t appear as amused. In fact, he seems really irate. I think about all the times I’ve caught him flirting with Lyric and checking her out and worry this might end up being one of those issues that breaks up the band.
“Do you want us to leave so you two can finish up?” Sage says flatly as he kicks the door shut.
Sage’s eyes land on me, burning holes into my head. “What about you? You good? Or do you still need to go into the bathroom and finish off?”
“Knock it off.” I hate drama, and Sage is trying to stir it up.
A pucker forms at Sage’s brow, but the confusion quickly disappears as he turns around. “I’m going to go outside and smoke.” He storms out of the garage, slamming the door behind him.
An awkward silence forms between the three of us.
“I should go talk to him.” I get up and head for the door while Nolan sits down on one of the stools and starts tuning his guitar.
“Are you sure you want to?” Lyric calls out after me. “It might be better to just let him have his hissy fit and get over it.”
If Sage likes Lyric, then I’m not sure he’s going to get over her. Lyric isn’t the kind of girl you just get over.
“I’m just going to make sure he’s okay.” I slip out the door before she can say anything else.
When I find Sage, he’s sitting on the hood of his truck, puffing on a joint.
“Are you sure you should be doing that?” I hoist myself on the hood and prop my feet on the bumper. “What if someone sees you?”
He takes a drag, traps the smoke in his chest, and then exhales. “I really don’t give a shit who sees me.” He holds the joint between his fingers, staring at his neighbor’s house in the distance. “So, you guys are like a thing now?”
“I don’t know.” I tensely massage the back of my neck, unsure of what else to say to him.
He glances at me and arches a brow. “You don’t know?”
I shrug. “We haven’t really talked about it. Why are you so pissed about the idea, though?”
“Because I like her,” he says simply as the stench of weed circles around us. “That’s what I was actually trying to talk to you about. To see if you’d be cool with me dating her.”
“Oh.” I have no clue what to say to him.
We’re quiet for a while as he tokes up. He offers me a drag, but like always, I never take it.
“Well,” he finally says when we hear Nolan and Lyric blast the amp, “we should probably get inside.”
We hop off the hood, and I follow him toward the garage.
Unraveling You Series: The Complete Set Page 23