by Danah Logan
Turning, I lower her as gently as I can with the raging boner trying to break through my pants. My jeans need to go. Fast. As soon as her feet hit the floor, I walk her back against the door and nuzzle my nose in her neck. My hands find her hips, and I squeeze. My body buzzes as if I just chugged several energy drinks. Having my fingers on her after being apart for days, I have to force myself to slow down.
A sigh escapes her, and my tongue darts out, licking the skin underneath her ear. Lilly fists her fingers into my shirt just as mine make their way into the back of her pants.
Fuck, it feels so good having her back in my arms.
She moves her hands up, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. She cups my face between both and guides it to hers. Immediately diving in, her lips part, and her warm tongue meets mine. She tastes like bergamot and orange, a flavor that’s all Lilly, and I never thought it would have the ability to drive me crazy, wanting to strip her then and there. Her arms intertwine behind my neck, and she hikes up one leg. Taking that as an invitation, I grab her under her ass, and she wraps both legs around me again. Grinding myself against her core, Lilly nips at my bottom lip, and all bets are off. I need her out of those clothes. Hell, I need to get out of mine. I pull her away from the door and carry her over to the queen bed where I let us both drop on the mattress.
"You don’t get to do that and not pay the price." I smirk down at her.
Her eyes widen in mock horror before a devilish grin spreads across her features. "I’m good for the money," Lilly declares in a sultry tone that makes my dick even harder—if that’s possible.
Without another word, I clasp the hem of her top as she grasps for my belt buckle. Within less than a minute, the only barriers left are my briefs—which will probably have a hole in them soon with the way I’m tenting—and Lilly’s white lace boy shorts with matching bra. I would stare at her splayed out like that all day if I didn’t have a major blood-flow issue in my lower half to alleviate.
I don’t break eye contact as I lower my face to the swell of her breast. Bringing my lips to her soft skin, moisture floods my mouth, and I lick her above the hem of her bra. Lilly’s breathing becomes more labored, and she arches into the touch. "God, yes."
With my mouth already on her, I let the hand that’s not holding me up explore other parts of her body.
A moan escapes her, and she reaches for my dick.
I pull back slightly. "Let’s make sure the underwear stays on, ‘kay?"
"Wha—? Why?" She’s truly confused, and the wrinkle between her brow makes me chuckle.
"I refuse to have our first time in one of the Kellers’ spare bedrooms, babe. Believe me, I want you." I glance between us where she cups me. "As you can see. And feel." I drop my forehead to hers. "But not here."
Disappointment is visible on her face, but she nods in agreement. "Okay."
We spend the rest of Saturday holed up in the room until Wes bangs against the door. "Get your horny asses downstairs. We ordered pizza."
My face is currently nuzzled into the crook of Lilly’s neck with one hand palming her breast, pinching her nipple, while she, in return, clutches my biceps, arching up to give me better access—her bra came off a while ago. We both groan in frustration, but we’ve been in our bubble for the last, uh...I peer at the clock on the nightstand...six hours, and I know we’re shit friends if we remain up here any longer. Not that I care, but Lilly does.
Trudging into the kitchen ten minutes later, we find two big boxes of steaming pizza on the white marble island that could seat an entire football team. Lilly’s hand is securely in mine, and no one seems to think that it’s weird anymore.
I grin at our friends. "Is it safe to say that Wes lost a bet, and that’s why he came to get us?"
Denielle is getting plates out of the cabinet and smirks. "Of course. He sucks at rock, paper, scissors."
"You cheat!" Wes now hollers from somewhere in the back hallway.
"Do not," Den growls.
Lilly eases away from me and walks over to her best friend. Denielle puts the plates on the island and turns to my girl, who wraps her arms around her and says, "Thank you."
I swear I can see Denielle’s cool exterior crack the tiniest bit as she returns the embrace and mumbles, "Love you, too, babe."
I smile to myself, thinking how all our lives have changed in the last few months, not just Lilly’s. Even though her change is obviously the most dramatic or traumatic one. Denielle and I have never been close. Before I "chose" to walk away from Lilly, it was usually the two of them and me and Wes. We never hung out together. Then, I became the enemy, and Denielle was like a pit bull, protecting Lilly from me—the person who did all this to keep her safe in the first place. Despite the resentment that grew over the years from watching them be so close and me being forced to remain on the outside, Denielle gained my deepest respect for how she cared for Lilly. Now, for the first time, it’s all four of us together, and it feels completely natural. Like it was always supposed to be this way.
The entire weekend is fucking amazing. There is no other way of saying it. Lilly calls Heather at one point, asking to stay at Denielle’s since her parents are gone, and Wes and I simply...stay. We watch movies in Denielle’s parents’ ostentatious twenty-person theater room. Who needs a movie room for that many people? Or a movie room period. We eat more fast food than any of us has in a year, and I spend two nights wrapped in Lilly’s arms. Okay, there was also a lot more making out involved, but we did sleep, too. Some.
By Monday morning, Lilly is like a new person. Her skin is no longer pale, and the circles under her eyes have vanished. She radiates happiness.
My good mood lasts until I get to school.
Walking down the senior hallway with Wes by my side, I pay no attention until Kat steps right in front of me.
"Rhys," she purrs.
I look down, wary of what I see in her eyes. "Kat."
Wes cocks his head at me, and I give him a nod. Go ahead.
Once he’s halfway down the hall, Kat hooks her arm around mine, holding onto my bicep. The gesture is similar to what Lilly did this weekend, but the emotion it stirs in me is so very opposite. I fight the urge to dislodge her hand from my arm but don’t want to cause a scene with half our class around.
Tucked away in a nook that leads to a supply closet, she lets go and faces me. I slip my hands into my front jean pockets and wait.
"I’ve been watching you." Unlike last time, she doesn’t try to grope me, which I’m grateful for, but her tone hints of a deeper meaning.
"Okay," I drawl, appearing bored with this exchange.
"You’re doing a much better job, but your little sister is slipping." Her voice is sweet and taunting, dripping venom at the same time. She is planning something, and knowing her, it is nothing good. I lean back on my heels and raise my eyebrows.
Do. Not. Show. Weakness.
"Nothing? Well, let me put it this way. The creepy eye-fucks your little sister is throwing your way all the time are dis-gus-ting. What do you think will happen when others start noticing?" The question is spoken with a malicious smile on her face that makes me want to throttle her.
Deep breath.
"Kat, I have no clue what you think you’re seeing, but I wouldn’t spread rumors you can’t back up." My tone is controlled, but I make sure to put as much force behind it as possible. We’re on the same level when it comes to social hierarchy in school, and she knows it.
That makes her smirk even more. "Oh, sweetie, I have no intention of spreading rumors."
With that, she walks around me, dragging her hand across my pecs, and disappears into the crowd.
I remain tucked in that corner until well after the bell rings, trying to get my racing pulse under control.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
It’s been over three weeks since I sent Lilly the text message. I did not anticipate still being in Virginia. After flying home for the Shelter for Kids charity event, I was called to the Florida location
to check on the remodel—something Hank easily could’ve done without me, but had I not gone, it would’ve raised questions with my nosy-as-fuck partner. I keep telling myself that I’ve waited ten years for this; a couple more days won’t make a difference. I’m methodical. I plan. But I’m growing impatient.
Tonight, I’m sitting in my penthouse suite, propped up by three pillows on the king-size bed, computer in my lap, reviewing some of the pictures and footage again. I want one more picture for my next message to Lilly. Scanning the school surveillance footage, an idea starts forming. The school has made it easy for me to track all the key players with the obscene number of surveillance cameras they installed two years ago after an unnoticed bullying incident. The parents of the targeted kid were—unfortunately for the school—very influential and very connected residents of Westbridge and, for lack of a better term, raised hell. Now, something that was installed to protect the students has given me access to information I probably would’ve missed otherwise.
Lilly spent this weekend at her friend Denielle’s house together with Rhys and their other friend, Wes. I found he is a close friend to both McGuires’ but was Rhys’s friend first. Over the last week, Rhys has gone back to staying at Wes’s house, and I assume it has to do with Tristen McGuire being back in town after a two-week business trip. I’m itching to find out what’s going on behind the walls of Lilly’s current home, but Tristen and Heather seem to be almost as paranoid as I am when it comes to protecting their family. There is nothing to be found besides the official public records. Nothing on a personal level. It fills me with pride and curiosity that Lilly has been kept safe under their roof for so long.
Thanks to a few perfectly timed photos and the school’s video, I now understand why Rhys was the one to show up with Lilly in California. Though, the only other people that officially know seem to be the two best friends. Add to the mix Rhys’s absence at home whenever Daddy Dearest is in town, and I am convinced that this is (A) a new development and (B) Heather and Tristen are not aware of or agree with it.
All these things make my new plan almost laughably easy. I do have some reservations executing it this way. I don’t like seeing Lilly hurt, but I don’t see another way to isolate her and get her home. The timing has to be perfect, though, so once again, I can’t rush things.
I’m about to put together the next message for Lilly when my personal phone rings. Checking the caller ID, I’m relieved that for once it’s not Hank with any more work issues, but Margot. I haven’t talked to her since yesterday, and I expected her call this evening.
"How was your day, sweetheart?"
"Darling, I’m glad I caught you. I wasn’t sure if you were still working." Not that that has ever stopped my fiancée before from demanding my attention.
"I’m just looking over some information for the current project." Not a lie.
"Oh good. Do you think you’ll be back in two and a half weeks? Celeste is having a party for her twenty-ninth birthday." Twenty-nine? Didn’t she celebrate that three years ago? Though, that’s a question I most definitely won’t ask.
Celeste is my buddy Julian’s fiancée. Julian is one of the few friends I’ve kept around and who doesn’t care about my past. It also helps that we enjoy the same things. Cars, motorcycle, airplanes, anything fast—and women. We both had our fair share before settling down. It’ll be good to see him; with my travel, it’s gotten difficult to get together regularly.
"I should be back by then. Tell Celeste to let Julian know that I refuse to let him win this time."
"Darling," she chastises. "You know how I despise when you two do that. What if something happens?"
"I know, sweetheart, but we are extremely good at what we’re doing. Nothing will happen."
That just gets me a sigh. "I know I won’t be able to stop you."
"No, you won’t," I chuckle. Just the thought of the little competition we carry out whenever we get together makes my pulse race.
We disconnect after a few more minutes of catching up, and I place my phone on the nightstand.
Back to bringing Lilly home.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
It’s been five nights since I slept in Rhys’s arms, and I am yet again in a state of The Walking Dead. Sunday can’t come soon enough. Tristen has to go back to his most recent job site for a follow-up, and Rhys has promised to sleep at home. Between school and practice for the district championship, I haven’t spent more than five minutes alone with him, and the ache in my chest is growing stronger.
The same way Rhys started coming to the gym on Saturdays, I am going to the gym on Sundays. That also works out in my favor for the training sessions with Spence whenever I miss my Saturday session due to an invitational or, like this weekend, the district championship.
Between districts and Spence deciding to do a full hour sparring session after I already ran five miles on the treadmill with Denielle, I can barely walk straight when I come home on Sunday. My giddiness that I’ll be in Rhys’s arms in a few short hours immediately disintegrates, like the dried flower petal I attempted to pick up from the kitchen counter the other day, when I enter the kitchen and find Heather, Tristen, and Natty having lunch together.
He was supposed to have left by now.
As if he’s reading my mind, Tristen informs me that he moved his flight to early Monday morning. I’m fighting the urge to burst into tears on the spot. Rhys won’t be coming home.
Monday seems to never end. Classes are dragging, and I can’t concentrate. I’m either about to fall asleep or am too jittery to pay attention due to the amount of caffeine coursing through my veins. In both scenarios, I’m only semi-functioning and can’t answer one question when the teachers call on me.
Relieved I’ve finally made it through my last class, Denielle and I have just exited the west wing when my phone vibrates in the back pocket of my jeans. My stomach immediately does a flip with a cartwheel followed by a back tuck because Den is walking next to me, and that means it’s Rhys—until I pull it out and glimpse at the screen. UNKNOWN.
No, no, no.
Denielle takes a couple more steps before she realizes I’m not beside her. Turning, her gaze falls to my phone with a frown. "Babe?"
Sometime between me reading the sender’s name of the incoming message and my best friend noticing I wasn’t following her, my entire body started trembling. I’m struggling to hold on to the small rectangle. She seems to understand what’s happening, because she’s at my side with two long strides. Grabbing my phone, she sticks it in her coat pocket and leads me by the arm to my car. I stumble along like I’ve had one too many drinks—which in my case would probably be just half of one. Without stopping, she fishes the keys out of my leather jacket, unlocks the Jeep, and deposits me in the passenger seat.
I didn’t even notice that she led me to this side of the car.
Joining me on the driver’s side, she holds the phone out once settled inside. "Do you want me to read it, or do you want to?" Her tone is gentle like she’s worried I’ll break down at any moment, which is a possibility.
I take the phone from her and swipe the message open. I can feel Denielle watching me. One more deep breath and I look down at the screen.
The first photo is from the evening we all met at Bones. It’s grainy, but you can recognize everyone in the picture. Rhys is fist-bumping Wes across the table, Denielle is laughing, and I’m cuddled into Rhys’s side with my eyes closed. The whole exchange took maybe five seconds. I remember clearly that I didn’t allow myself to linger any longer on Rhys’s shoulder, but the picture is perfectly timed.
The second is of Nate and me at the gym, the morning he introduced himself. And once again, the timing is impeccable. He is shaking my hand, and we’re both smiling at each other, which makes the scene appear way more intimate than it was.
The third one is of Rhys and Katherine. It’s taken from an angle above. A school surveillance camera? They’re tucked in some corner. Kat’s hand is on his
chest, and a smug smile is on her evil face. What. The. Hell? My sight is starting to fog, but I keep scrolling to the last picture and want to throw up. Dropping the device, it clatters to the floor, facing up—the photo of Denielle and me walking out of the school displayed on the screen. She is wearing her new camel pea coat—the one she bought this past weekend—and I’m wearing my black leather jacket. The picture is not fifteen minutes old. The caption underneath reads See you soon.
"He’s here." My voice is hoarse, and I can’t seem to take a breath.
"WHAT?" Denielle sounds the opposite, loud and shrill. She climbs over the middle console and bends down with her head half in my lap to retrieve the phone. I can’t move. Scrolling through the message and muttering several curse words, she opens the door and jumps out.
That snaps me out of my paralysis. "Where are you going?"
Her muffled voice seeps into the inside of the Jeep as she walks around the car to open my door and pulls me out. "We’re going to find Rhys and Wes."
"Wha—NO!" I dig my heels in the ground, but it’s no use.
When did she become so strong?
"We can’t. He has practice. With the cheerleaders." Katherine will be there. He met with her behind my back. The thought slams into me like lightning hitting a tree.
"I don’t give a flying fuck about that. That fucker was here. At school! FUCK!" Den even stomps her foot to emphasize her level of fucked-up-ness.
"Can you not say fuck so much?" I mumble as she drags me down the path leading to the field house and gymnasium.
"Babe, fuck is a very appropriate expression for the current situation."
I guess it is.
Wes sees us first. We enter on the opposite end of the gym from where the cheerleaders practice, and Rhys and Wes are doing some sort of warm-up drill at the other end.
All I can do is stand there, because Denielle does her usual thing. She commands the attention of the entire room, and I pray the ground opens up and swallows me on the spot. I have no clue how she manages that, but everything stops. The chatter coming from the girls dies down, and out of the corner of my eye, I’m aware of almost all of them staring at us.