I do. I so do. But I’m not stopping him.
I’m not protesting.
The exercise pretense is already wearing thin. Sydney isn’t stupid. She saw right through my motives and used them to her advantage. I like that she wants to hang out with me and appreciated even more that she said so. Yeah, she’s my pain in the ass little sister but I like the kid. I like talking to her, spending time with her. It’s me and her against those two people who call themselves our parents. I need Syd. She’s my partner in crime.
But bonding with my sister is a bonus. What I’m really trying to do is spend more time with Lucy. Watching her run and jump and do sit-ups and push-ups and all sorts of exercises that puts her body into weird positions that I can appreciate like a fucking pervert. Checking out her perfect tits and ass, hoping like hell she doesn’t have me figured out. That she thinks I’m helping her and Sydney out of the generosity of my heart.
More like the generosity of my dick. Despite telling myself it’s wrong, I can’t keep my distance from Lucy. I’m dying to have her. Anywhere, anyhow.
I’m acting too friendly when I shouldn’t. Touching her. Pulling her closer. Staring at her perfect, luscious mouth. God, that mouth. It’s a little fiery when it wants to be. A little sassy. Funny. Sweet. Sexy.
She parts her lips, her tongue darting out for a quick lick and Christ, that makes me crazy. My knuckles brush against her chest, coming into full contact with that glorious rack and I want to rip her T-shirt off and see exactly what she’s hiding.
I mean, I do have a clue. I’ve seen her in the bikini often enough. But I want more. I want to see bare skin. As in, I want to see a naked Lucy.
If she knew I was thinking like this she’d probably slap my face.
“We’re getting too caught up in all this.” She withdraws from me and I feel the loss like a stab in the heart. My hand falls away from her arm as she steps back, putting distance between us. Too much distance but I don’t say a word, don’t protest because it’s not my place.
And I really need to remember my place.
“Caught up in what?” I frown, my fingers still tingling from where they made contact with her flesh.
Lucy takes another step back away from me, as if she really needs the distance. “Look, you made it very clear how you felt about me a few days ago, when you walked right out of—my house and never looked back.”
The last thing I want to remember was how I reacted that night. Talk about a complete idiot. “I panicked,” I say, hoping she’ll believe me.
The skeptical look she shoots my way tells me otherwise.
“You panicked.” Her voice is flat, almost deadpan. “Gabe, you never said another word. Just kept walking like I told you I had a raging case of genital warts. I didn’t know what to do, how to react. You—you freaked me out.”
The words fall out of me before I can stop myself. “I freaked you out? You’re the one who told me you were a virgin. Then you offer yourself up like some sort of sexual plaything. But with only one rule—no actual intercourse.” As if I could stop myself from taking it all the way with Lucy. I don’t think it would be possible. And I don’t want to test myself.
I know for a fact I’d so break that rule.
“I didn’t mean to…blurt it out like that. I surprised you, but you surprised me too.” When I snort she sends me a look. “It’s true, whether you believe me or not. I swear ever since I’ve come here everything’s been so weird. My entire life has turned upside down in a matter of weeks and I can’t seem to get it back on track.”
“Doesn’t help that your dad isn’t here, I bet.” She sends me a weird look but I press on. “I assume you two are close? You’re a total daddy’s girl?”
“Um…”
“And not having him here is extra hard since you’d love some advice,” I continue. I’m totally speculating, something I’m rather good at.
“We’re not that close,” she says, surprising me. “I don’t see him that often. He lives here, I live with my mom, and though we’re not too far apart when it comes to miles, he never seems to make time to see me. He’s usually too busy uh, working and stuff. Going on vacations with his new flavor of the month.”
“Ah.” I nod. I know plenty of dads like that. I sometimes wonder if my dad wishes he were like that. “That sucks.”
“It’s no biggie.” She waves a hand, dismissing any mention of her father with a flick of her fingers.
Wish I could dismiss my family as easy as that.
Taking a deep breath, I decide to go for it. “Listen, Luce. I need to apologize for how I reacted that night. I shouldn’t have walked out on you. It was wrong and I’m sorry.”
She seems startled by my apology. “It’s okay. Really.”
“It wasn’t okay, but I hope you can forgive me.”
“You’re forgiven.” She waves that hand again, that same dismissing gesture obliterating my mistakes. “Let’s move on.”
“You sure?”
She flashes me a sly smile. “Don’t doubt my acceptance, Walker. You could find yourself back on my shit list in about three seconds.”
“I’ll keep my mouth shut.” I throw my hands up in front of me, thankful for her playful mood. I need this. I’m tired of tiptoeing around her, afraid I’ll say or do the wrong thing. Or worse, when I get so caught up in staring at her, lusting after her, that I’ll forget myself and try and kiss her or something. When she definitely doesn’t want to be kissed.
Bad enough that I still want her despite everything I’ve said. If she catches me panting after her like a lost puppy dog, I’ll feel like an idiot. I’m not used to denying myself anything.
Especially a girl.
I kept my hands to myself for a week. A solid seven days, which is probably some sort of record for me. I was feeling proud earlier tonight. Telling myself I was over this, over her, and I didn’t need her. I even went out to a bar. Met a group of people all around my age on the beach earlier this afternoon and hung out with them for a while. Played volleyball, drank beer, got sunburned and flirted heavily with a girl.
Never thought of Lucy once.
They invited me to meet them at a local bar and so I did. Had a great time too. We ordered a bunch of appetizers and drank enough pitchers of beer that I was feeling sudsy. As in, I’d soaked my brain in booze. The cute girl was still flirting with me and I flirted back though I wasn’t feeling it as much. Why I don’t know. She was a little too loud. Yet another blonde and I think I’m over blondes. Then some other asshole stepped in and stole her right from me and I didn’t even protest. Didn’t even go after her.
Which showed that I really wasn’t interested after all.
My pride evaporating by the minute, I left the bar without telling anyone. Like they’d miss me. Like they’d care. I only just met all of them and they were a group of friends from a college down south who came to party for the weekend. Some of the girls were interested in me because I was fresh meat but that didn’t last long. They moved on to someone else.
And I can’t seem to move on to anyone else.
Now I’m back at the house and it’s not even eleven o’clock. The parental units went to a party their friends were having and they warned both Sydney and I that they had no clue when they’d come back home.
Meaning they wanted us on our best behavior and not try and pull something while they were gone. Dad even said, “No funny business,” before he left the house.
That cracked us up.
I park my car and enter the house through the front door, stopping short when I see Sydney passed out asleep on the giant sectional in the living room, a throw blanket covering her curled up form. All the lights are off but the TV was still on, though the volume was turned down low.
Sitting on the opposite end of the couch, her legs stretched out in front of her and her phone clutched in her hands, is Lucy.
Fuck. The very last girl I want to see.
Liar.
Right. The only girl I wan
t to see. I can’t get this girl out of my head, no matter how hard I try.
She glances up, the glow of her phone’s screen illuminating her face and my mouth goes dry. She looks damn pretty no matter what she’s doing, where she is. Her hair is pulled up into a high ponytail and she’s wearing a white tank top that shows off her tanned skin, with denim shorts that reveal a lot of leg. Simple outfit, I bet she doesn’t have a lick of makeup on and just like that, I’m hard. As in, I want her.
Bad.
Seven days. That’s all it takes for me to give in to my weakness. Because the only weakness I seem to have is Lucy.
You haven’t given in yet, asshole. Stay strong!
I tear my gaze away from her legs to find her watching me with a slightly mortified expression on her face. Like she didn’t mean to get caught hanging out here. “Hey,” she whispers.
“Hi.” I lean against the wall, not sure what to say next. Just like that my buzz is gone and I’m stone cold sober.
“I thought you were going out tonight.” She makes a face, like she doesn’t like thinking of me out with someone else. I wonder if she even realizes she just did that.
“I did go out. Now I’m back.” I flick my chin at her. “What are you doing here?”
“Sydney invited me. Said your parents went to a party so I came over and we ate pizza. Watched movies.” Her phone screen shuts off and only the faint blue flickering light from the TV screen allows me to see her.
“She passed out?” I push away from the wall and enter the living room, noticing the way Lucy springs to her feet, smoothing her hand over her hair with one hand as she shoves her cell phone into the back pocket of her denim cutoffs with the other.
“Yeah. I should go. I, um, probably overstayed my welcome.” She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and makes to dodge past me but I step directly in front of her, going on pure instinct.
And maybe fueled a little by liquid courage.
“What’s the rush?” I let my gaze rove over her face, taking in every pretty feature, liking how nervous she appears. Does that mean she still feels it? Feels whatever we have brewing between us?
“Aren’t your parents coming home soon?”
“Nah.” I shake my head. “They’ll be out for a while longer, knowing them. They like to party.” I reach out and touch her arm, trail my fingers along baby soft skin. “Want me to walk you back to your place?”
“No. I’m fine.” She shakes her head, a tremulous smile on her face.
“So you’re saying you’d rather stay here with me?”
Her mouth falls open and I’m filled with the urge to kiss her. “That…might not be a good idea.”
She’s not stupid, this girl. She knows I’ve been avoiding her. Hell, she’s probably been avoiding me too. No more early morning exercise sessions on the beach. If she and Sydney get together, it’s never over here. I’ve given up on watching her lounge around her pool too. That was nothing but pure, sweet torture.
“You’re probably right.” I scratch my chest, ignoring the way my heart is starting to race. Damn it, all from her being so close. It’s like I can’t help myself. “But sometimes bad ideas can turn into good ones.”
A little huff of laughter escapes her. “I forgot how charming you can be.”
“You thought that was charming?” I wasn’t even trying.
“I think pretty much everything you do is charming.” She presses her lips together after that particular confession.
I smile. “Stay a while. Watch TV with me. I need to unwind.”
She frowns. “Unwind from what?”
“Stay with me and I’ll tell you all about it.”
Lucy turns to look at my sister. “What about Syd?”
“What about her?”
“What if she wakes up?” She faces me once more.
“She won’t. Syd sleeps like the dead. So do I.”
She bites her lower lip, contemplating my suggestion and I wish like hell she’d say yes. “Thanks for the invite but…I can’t, Gabe. I should go.”
Disappointment fills me and I shove it aside. “Then at least let me walk you back home.”
“I think I can make it okay. It’s just next door.”
“It’s not safe,” I protest. “Plus it’s so late.” This sudden near overwhelming need to protect her, to make sure she’s all right, throws me. Makes me feel unsure.
“It’s not even eleven,” she says with a little eye roll. “I’ll be fine. Really. There’s no boogey man out there waiting for me.”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“Gabe, you’re being ridiculous.” She starts to go around me but I step in front of her again, stopping her. “Come on. Let me go.”
“No. You see, that’s the problem.” I reach out and grab her upper arms, holding her there, not pulling her close but not releasing her either. “I can’t seem to let you go, no matter how much I want to.”
She parts her lips, ready to read me the riot act, no doubt. Tell me to go to hell. She should. I’m no good for her. I keep telling myself that yet here I am, touching her, wanting more from her.
So much more.
Before she can speak, I claim her mouth, cutting off whatever she might’ve said. She’s stunned, I can tell by the way she’s not really moving, not responding. Her arms hang by her sides as if she’s afraid to touch me and I reach up, cupping her face, holding her, cradling her cheeks in my hands, softening the kiss to one press of my lips against hers, over and over.
A little shudder ripples through her. A sigh. A whimper. I take the kiss deeper, circle my tongue around hers and she steps closer, until we’re melded together in front of the TV in the living room, my sister sleeping on the couch nearby.
This moment couldn’t get any weirder.
Or better.
The second I saw him walk into the house, I knew. I knew this would happen. That he would see me and feel it. That connection, the zap and zing that seems to bounce between us whenever we get near each other. He’s avoided me all week and I’ve let him. I was glad he did it because I needed the break and I think he did too.
It’s freaking stressful, wanting someone you can’t have.
Me being here tonight with Sydney was completely unexpected. Only when she told me Gabe wasn’t going to be there did I agree to come over. I didn’t want to run into him. I know he doesn’t want to run into me. I was only trying to respect his wishes.
But his wishes seem to change with the tide and I can’t keep up. He entered the house and I didn’t even hear him. I glanced up, caught him staring and the hungry way he looked at me made my skin feel hot and itchy. He still wants me. I still want him. He’s taking his opportunity where he can find it and I can’t blame him.
I want this stolen moment too.
His lips coax mine apart and his tongue searches my mouth, warm and slick. He tastes like beer and Gabe and I wonder what he did tonight. Who did he go out with? Was it a girl? Did he go on an actual date? Am I an afterthought?
I push the torturous thoughts from my brain and focus on the way Gabe is holding me. Kissing me. How he tangles his tongue with mine, his movements so sure yet a little reckless. Like his control is slipping and I love that I’m the one who could make him feel that way.
He breaks the kiss, his mouth hovering above mine, his breathing fast. His hands move from my face to my waist, his touch careful, as if he’s afraid I might break. “Touch me, Lucy,” he whispers, the raw need in his voice nearly my undoing. “I want to feel your hands on me.”
He sounds like he would die if I didn’t touch him right now. How can I resist his demand? I rest tentative, shaking hands on his broad shoulders and he groans at my first touch. The sound fuels me and I gather the soft cotton of his T-shirt in my fingers, clutching him close as he presses his face against my neck. My head falls back as if I’m offering myself up as his sacrifice.
He takes the opportunity to rain kisses along the sensitive skin of my throat, h
is lips hot and damp. Nipping and sucking at my skin, his mouth blazes a trail everywhere, sending shivers cascading down my spine. I wrap one hand around the back of his neck, absorbing his warmth, his strength. My name is a whisper of breath against my skin, close to my ear, just before he bites it. I tilt my head to the side, my fingers curled into the hair at his nape, a whimper escaping me when he lifts his head and claims my mouth yet again.
I let myself drown in his taste, in his kiss. His hands wander, along my waist, over my hips, my butt, then back up again, until they’re just beneath my breasts.
Lust and fear combine, making me anxious. Will he take it further? Or stop? He knows my biggest secret—well, not my biggest secret. I hate that I’m lying to him, that he thinks I’m some shallow rich girl with daddy issues.
I might have daddy issues, but I’m definitely not a shallow rich girl. No, more like I’m a scared poor girl who’s in way over her head and perfectly willing to let this man do whatever he wants to me.
No regrets.
“Have you lost weight?” he asks after he breaks away from my still needy lips.
Pleasure ripples through me as he runs his hands back down along my waist, settling them at my hips. “Seven pounds,” I say proudly. It may not sound like much but every one of those pounds lost was a struggle. Dieting is such a bitch.
He frowns. Even growls. “That’s a damn shame.” His fingers slip beneath the hem of my shirt, touching bare skin. “I really, really love your curves.”
Gabe says things like that and I want to melt. His easy acceptance of my body seriously blows my mind. He seems to enjoy touching me, mapping my body with his hands and fingers, tracing every sensitive spot, pushing just enough that I always crave more. No other man has ever appreciated my curves like Gabe does.
I’m tired of denying myself of this. Of him. Isn’t he tired of it too? Or does he enjoy the torture? There is something to be said for denying yourself what you desperately want. I should know as queen of the diets. I remember going on a no carbs diet one time and all I ever did was crave chocolate cake. Like, dreamed about it and everything.
In The Dark Page 9