He released her ankle. “Nowhere to run now,” he said as he started pulling himself up.
She spun around, tears trickling down her cheeks when she closed her eyes. Choosing the river of fire below over him, she jumped.
A fierce heat suddenly enveloped her, but it did not burn. She opened her eyes, found herself still standing on the pedestal. Her gaze dropped to the thick muscled arms wrapped tight around her, above and below her breasts, forcing them up and out. Clearly visible beneath the gauzy material of the white dress that clung to her sweat-soaked skin, she struggled to free herself so that she could cover them.
“No.” His hot breath against her ear sent a chill through her body that hardened her nipples instantly. “You are not going anywhere.”
Suddenly overcome with exhaustion, her head fell back, stopped abruptly by the sweltering expanse of solid muscle behind it. She forced herself to look up and into his eyes. “Why won’t you let me go?” she breathed.
His lips parted as his mouth came down to hover over hers. His heated breath scorched her lips. Desperate to ease their tight, dry ache, she was about to lick them when he did it for her. His tongue was cool, and the soft, wet caress of it made her shiver.
“Because,” he said as his large hands cupped her breasts, “you belong to me now.”
Lacey sat up with a half-groan, half-gasp as The Man brushed his thumbs across her aching nipples. Partially submerged in the foggy state of semi-consciousness, her hands flew up to her breasts to tear away his offending appendages, but grabbed only damp flannel. Swallowing hard, she stiffened upon realizing she was more disappointed than relieved.
This is bad.
Closing her eyes, Lacey turned her head toward the bright beam of early morning light coming through the bare window. She bathed in its warmth for a few moments before falling back with a ragged breath.
As the dream world slipped farther away, she gradually became aware of a tightness in her chest. Blinking, she glanced down. Not in her chest, on her chest: she was not only still holding her breasts, but squeezing them almost to the point of pain.
Very, very bad.
But God, it had felt so real! Lacey swore she could still feel The Man’s rock-hard body pressing against her back, his hot hands and fingers on her breasts and nipples. She shivered as, seemingly of their own accord, her hands crept down to the bottom button of her pajama shirt. Her breaths deepened as she unfastened it, then repeated the process until she had reached the top button.
Lacey hesitated, swallowing hard at the thought of what she was about to do. What she, for the first time in her life, not only wanted but needed to do.
After unfastening the last button Lacey sat up to peel the damp flannel from her sweat-soaked body. She tossed the pajama shirt on the floor and then looked down at her taut breasts, which seemed to have increased in size. Her nipples were so hard they actually hurt. Closing her eyes, she replayed the ending of her dream as she brushed her thumbs over them. A tingling jolt shot through her body and ended with a skin-prickling zap to her clitoris.
With a hiss of indrawn breath, Lacey fell back on the bed. Taking her erect nipples between her thumbs and index fingers, she squeezed and tugged on them until the uncomfortable ache between her tightly clenched thighs had her on the verge of screaming. Bending her legs and then parting them, she slipped her hand under the waistband of her pajama bottoms. When she made contact with the most sensitive part of her body and imagined that it was The Man’s fingers pressing against her swollen nub, the rational part of her brain came out of its slumber.
Have you lost your fucking mind?!
Lacey yanked her hand out of her pajamas, slapped it with the other.
Quit school and get an around-the-clock job, because you need to see the best psychiatrist that money can buy.
Lacey snapped her gaze to the clock. “Oh shit!”
She had forgotten to set the alarm.
Sammy flexed his arms. Chest. Abs. Back. Thighs. Calves. Every bodybuilder pose he could think of, he did, and now he was positive that he wasn’t imagining it—he actually had muscles.
The bedroom door swung open. Sammy snatched his black Sex Pistols T-shirt off the dresser and hastily covered his crotch with it as his brother strode in. Zane’s eyebrows shot up. “Well now look at you,” he said as he gave Sammy a once-over. “Amazing what a lot of blood and a little physical labor can do in such a short time, is it not?”
“You know what’s also amazing? That you don’t understand the concept of a closed door.”
Zane laughed, moving as if to ruffle Sammy’s hair. Scowling, he stepped back and out of his reach. “You look good, Samuel. Keep it up and soon you will be beating the girls off with a stick.” He smirked. “Figuratively speaking, of course.”
“Did you want something?”
“To learn your plans for the day.”
“I have options now?”
Zane shrugged. “I would not object if you wanted to stay home and continue working on your appearance.”
“And why would you think I’d wanna do that?”
With a deep sigh, Zane bowed his head. “Alexis told me how people treat you at school.”
“Of course she did,” Sammy exhaled, turning away. His foot tangled in his T-shirt and jerked it out of his loose grasp.
I’m standing naked in front of Mr. Perfect.
Sammy dove under the comforter. An amused chuckle followed him as he shimmied to the end of the bed. Poking his head out, he gave Zane his best death glare. His brother smiled. “I was hoping we could spend the day together,” he said, rubbing his hands together as if excited by the prospect.
It was Sammy’s turn to laugh. “You’re kidding.”
“Not at all.”
“You want to hang out.”
“Yes.”
“With me.”
“Yes.”
Narrowing one eye, Sammy reared back. “Why?”
“Do you not agree we are long overdue for a little brotherly bonding?”
“Okay, now you’re scaring me.”
“I am serious, Samuel. I want us to be...closer...than what we are.”
“But why?”
Zane took a deep breath as he walked over to the bed, released it as he sat down. “Because,” he said, placing his hand on Sammy’s shoulder, “I love you.”
Sammy glared at him even though his heart felt like it was soaring inside his scrawny chest. He couldn’t remember the last time his brother had said those three words to him...or anyone, for that matter.
“Oh, is that why you lock me in The Room whenever I piss you off?” He snorted. “And here I was thinking you were just a sadistic bastard! I feel like a big dummy now.”
“I put you in there to—”
“Feed me,” Sammy finished, fisting his hands around the comforter. “That’s my choice, not yours.”
Throwing up his arms, Zane stood. “Forgive me for caring, Samuel.” His hands flew to his hips as he turned away. “For not wanting you to die.”
A part of Sammy wanted to believe the sincerity he thought he heard in his brother’s uncharacteristically soft voice, but he didn’t dare.
“I had thought there was something left of our relationship to salvage.” Zane bowed his head, shook it. “I know now that I was wrong.” When he glanced over his shoulder, there was a sadness in his eyes that Sammy had never before seen. “I apologize for bothering you.”
Its wings vanishing in mid-flight, Sammy’s heart splattered against his rib cage and then plopped into his stomach. “What did you have in mind?” he blurted as Zane started to leave. Please, God, don’t let me regret this. “For us to do today?”
Zane faced him. Although the corners of his mouth were curled up slightly, it looked more like a frown than a smile. “Well, after you had your breakfast I thought we could head out to the punching bag for a workout that will add another inch to those muscles by the end of the day.”
Sammy blinked at that. “An
other inch? In one day? Really?”
“I personally guarantee it.”
The new girl’s words echoed inside Sammy’s mind yet again. She wouldn’t tell you to get lost, he thought, sweeping his blurry gaze over Zane’s flawless face and body. “What do you say, Samuel?”
He sighed. “Okay.”
Zane’s face brightened, as if a mega-watt light bulb had suddenly flicked on inside his head. “Then I shall prepare your breakfast while you get dressed. Your sister has gone on a short vacation so it will be just us guys for a few days.”
“Vacation? We get to take individual vacations now?”
“You are both adults, capable of making your own decisions.”
“Since when?”
Zane sighed, heavy and deep. “My fear was that neither of you would make the right ones, which is why I have been so strict. However, I have realized that is both unfair to you and selfish of me, and thus have decided to give you both the freedom to make your own choices.”
“So I can do whatever I want, whenever I want and however I want?”
“As long as it does not harm yourself or us, yes.”
Sammy frowned. “I knew it sounded to too good to be true.”
“The health and protection of my family is of the utmost importance to me, Samuel. That will never change.”
“Okay, whatever,” Sammy mumbled, rolling his eyes.
Shaking his head, Zane chuckled. “You are a stubborn one, brother.”
Sammy snorted. “You’re one to talk.”
“Touché,” Zane replied, smirking. “All right then—I shall see you in the basement in five.”
Sammy ran over to the dresser as soon as Zane left the room. As he pulled a pair of sweats out of one drawer he glanced in the mirror and smiled. He couldn’t wait to see the new girl’s face the next time she saw him.
Chapter 20
Deep inhale. Slow exhale. Repeat.
Lacey glanced at the sea of faces inside the classroom before knocking on the window of the Social Studies door. Mrs. Fadely stopped talking, her eyes narrowing and her lips pursing as she met Lacey’s wide gaze. The teacher removed her cat eye-shaped glasses, which swung back and forth from their pearl chain as she charged forward. The rapid clicks of her beige pumps matched the relentless throb at the center of Lacey’s body.
For some stupid reason, she couldn’t stop thinking about that damn dream or the stupid star of it.
Mrs. Fadely’s opened the door, the hand on her hip flying up. “Tardy slip, Miss Chase,” she said, snapping her stubby fingers before showing her palm.
Lacey slapped the piece of paper onto it. Mrs. Fadely glanced at it and then crossed her arms over her breasts—which she probably had to roll up before stuffing into her granny bra—as she stepped aside.
When Lacey entered the classroom all eyes snapped to hers, including Kimberly’s and Brooke’s. They glanced at each other and then back at her and flashed welcoming smiles.
I’m still asleep...
Mrs. Fadely shut the door and then pointed at the only available chair. “Take a seat between Miss Conrad and Miss Taylor.”
...this isn’t real...
Kimberly clapped her hands and then motioned for Lacey to come forward while Brooke patted the desk.
...just a nightmare...
Mrs. Fadely cleared her throat. “Now, Miss Chase.”
...so wake the fuck up already!
Lacey trudged down the aisle, keeping her eyes locked on the desk. She flopped down in the seat and then fixed her gaze on Mrs. Fadely’s back as the woman began writing on the black board.
“Pssst.”
With a slow blink, Lacey looked to her right. Kimberly was leaning so close Lacey could smell the cinnamon on her breath. Holding out a pack of gum, the blonde repeatedly snapped the piece in her mouth, which sounded like a hundred of those small fireworks that popped when they hit the ground going off all at once. Shaking her head no, Lacey thought, If she doesn’t stop that, I’m going to snap myself.
Mrs. Fadely whirled around, the ruler in one wrinkled hand flying up to point at Kimberly. “Miss Conrad!”
Kimberly’s eyes widened a second before Lacey heard a loud gulp. “Aw, Mrs. Fadely, you, like, totally made me swallow my gum!”
“Gum is not allowed in my class, Miss Conrad.” Kimberly looked like she’d just been told she’d have to wear only thrift store clothes for the rest of her life.“And if I hear one more snap, crack or pop,” Mrs. Fadely continued, coming forward to lean across her desk, “you will write me a ten page report on the annoying product. Do we understand one another, Miss Conrad?”
Kimberly’s bony shoulders slumped. “For sure, Mrs. Fadely.”
When the teacher spun around to face the blackboard, Kimberly wrinkled her upturned nose at her back and then looked at Lacey. She is such an old bitch, Kimberly mouthed, and then rolled her electric blue eyes.
Seems pretty cool to me, Lacey thought, smiling as she looked down at her hands.
“Pssst.”
This time the sound came from her left. Giving herself a mental face-palm, Lacey looked at Brooke, who was waving her cell phone—which was the same lavender shade as her blouse—behind the Social Studies book placed upright on her desk. “Give me your number so we can text,” she whispered.
For a moment Lacey considered trading her unexcused tardy for another unexcused absence. “Don’t have a cell,” she whispered back.
Brooke’s mouth fell open. “You’re poor?”
Lacey leaned closer. “I get my clothes out of dumpsters...food, too, sometimes.”
Brooke gasped, her hand flying up to her chest. Yep—that should do the trick, Lacey thought, struggling not to grin as she leaned back.
Brooke’s wide gaze snapped to her cell. Her thin fingers flew over the keypad. Lacey heard a buzzing sound on her right followed by another gasp. A sideways glance revealed Kimberly gaping at the text message she’d just received. She looked at Lacey and blinked. Once, twice. Returned her equally wide gaze to her mint green cell, which she, too, had color coordinated with her blouse. More flying fingers. Another buzz, on her left. And then a giggle.
Lacey didn’t hear another peep from either girl the rest of the class, and when the bell rang and she stood up, Brooke and Kimberly remained seated. With her stomach growling the entire way, she raced down the hall, to the front entrance. She sighed in relief as she burst through the double doors, the brightness of the world beyond the interior walls making her squint. Shielding her eyes with the Social Studies book she hadn’t wanted to take the time to shove into her locker, Lacey glanced at the bicycle rack as she hurried by. Ghost Boy was absent once again.
He looked sick because he is sick. Probably has a terminal illness. Might even be in the hospital fighting for his life right now. Or dead. And the last words he probably remembered were the ones you said to him.
Lacey’s pace slowed as the heaviness in the pit of her stomach crept into her feet. The soles of her sneakers scraped against the rough asphalt as she shuffled across the quiet parking lot, to her scooter where she’d spend yet another lunch hour alone.
Thank God.
She’d had enough human interaction to last her a lifetime.
Closing her eyes, Lacey tilted her head back, the warm but soft breeze feeling cool as it flowed over her damp face. The tension that had begun seeping out of her body returned when from behind her came the sound of rapid footsteps—two sets. She knew who was coming even before her name was yelled.
Shooting up off the seat, Lacey expelled a harsh breath as she spun around. “I know what you’re up to,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.
Brooke and Kimberly blinked at each other and then at her. “You do?” they said in unison.
Lacey narrowed her eyes. “Yes,” she hissed.
The girls pointed at each other and said, “It was her idea!”
“Cut the shit, okay? I know Heather’s behind this master plan.”
&nbs
p; “As if,” Kimberly snorted, tucking one kinky, champagne-blonde curl behind her left ear. “Heather, like, totally doesn’t help anyone but herself.”
“I know, right?” Brooke said, nodding at her friend as she moved her sunglasses to the top of her head.
Lacey cleared her throat. Two pairs of wide, blue eyes snapped to her. She raised her eyebrows. “What’s this help shit you’re babbling about?”
“Don’t be mad but Brooke, like, told me about your, you know”—Kimberly leaned forward, cupped her hand around her mouth—“problem.” She whispered the last word.
“And that would be...?”
The corners of Brooke’s mouth turned down in sympathy. “The dumpster shopping.”
Lacey had to bite the inside of her cheeks to keep from laughing. “Oh, sweetie,” Kimberly said when Lacey’s mouth began to quiver and her eyes filled with tears of suppressed laughter, “it’s okay if you want to cry.”
Brooke nodded. “I know I would.”
“Yeah, totally,” agreed Kimberly.
Hold it, hold it—oh shit!
Slapping her hands over her face, Lacey spun around. Her shoulders bobbed as muffled chuckles that she tried to make sound like sobs poured out of her.
“Oh, sweetie!”
“You poor thing!”
The sound of rapid footsteps made Lacey tense and go silent—the jig would be up and so would her fists if they touched her. They didn’t, but she could smell and feel the fragrant heat drifting off their bodies as they crowded around her.
“We got, like, a lot of clothes you can totally have.”
“They’re last year’s fashions but you could pull it off.”
Grinding her teeth, Lacey parted the fingers covering her eyes. They really think I’m that fucking stupid. Her narrowed gaze darted between faces that were as bright as the sun beating down on the three of them.
“And you’re totally invited to Brooke’s house tonight. It’s way cool ‘cause her parents are so not going to be there.”
The blondes looked at each other with gleaming smiles that showed almost every tooth inside their mouths and then squealed in unison and yelled, “Slumber party Fridays!”
Let Him In (Let Him Trilogy) Page 13