“No, I’m just being honest.” He eyed me. “Speaking of honesty, I flirted with other women tonight.”
I staggered back, pain slicing through my chest straight to my heart. “Did you have fun?” I forced myself to ask calmly.
“No.” He reached for me, and I jumped back, not wanting him to touch me right now, because I could smell another woman on him. “Lilly.”
“Did you score? Did you find someone to help you forget about me?” I shoved his shoulder and he stumbled back. The pain faded away and hid behind the anger. So much anger. “I hope she was good. I hope she made you forget all about me, so I stop drowning you.”
He had the audacity to look confused. “I didn’t fuck anyone else.”
“So you, what, wear women’s perfume before starting fights?” I went at him again. “Don’t lie to me. I can smell her on you.”
He backed me against the wall before I could do any damage, trapping both my hands above my head. Breathing harshly, his nostrils flared, he lowered his face to mine until we were nose to nose. “I wish I found another woman I wanted even half as badly as I want you. Wish I found someone who made me want her. Wish I found someone—anyone—else, who made me forget the things you make me feel. Hell, I even wish you weren’t you, so that things wouldn’t be so damn complicated.”
There it was again.
He wanted my life to be different because it would be easier for him.
The other times he mentioned it, I shrugged it off and acted as if it didn’t bother me. But this time, it did. I yanked on my arms but he didn’t let go. “Screw you. I’m me, and you were perfectly fine with that last night when my mouth was wrapped around your—”
“Damn it, Lilly.” Growling, he fused his mouth to mine, cutting off my words. His teeth dug into my lower lip, stinging, but I didn’t care. All that mattered was he was here, and he was saying all these confusing things, and my body lit up, like it only seemed to do for him. And for whatever reason, that made me sad.
He broke the kiss off too soon, groaning and shaking his head. “Shit, Lilly. You’re killing me.”
I made a small sound. “I’m not even doing anything.”
“You don’t have to. You just have to be you.”
“Well, gee, sorry for existing,” I shot back.
“When you laugh, I laugh. When you smile, I smile. When you’re in pain, I feel it, too.” He pushed off me and paced back and forth like a caged animal, waiting for his chance to escape. “Why did you have to write to me?”
I watched him cautiously. “I already told you.”
“Yeah, because your father told you to, right? Because he loves me so damn much.” He barked out a laugh and tugged on his hair. “Jesus, I can’t believe I fell for that. Tell me the real reason you wrote to me.”
When I first started writing the letters, I wrote that Daddy made me. It was a way to excuse my pathetic need to keep in contact with him, to make sure he knew how I felt about him, when he clearly didn’t want me to. But it had been a lie.
And he’d finally figured that out.
“I already did.” I hid my hands behind my back, still not moving from the spot he’d put me in. “I wrote because I cared about you. I wanted you to know that I was here for you. And I was hoping you’d care about me, too.”
“Ah. There it is. The truth.” He approached again, his brows low, stopping directly in front of me. “Why does it matter to you if I care? Why is it so damn important to you? You’re thinking about marrying another guy.”
My heart sped up. He’d cornered me in more ways than one, and I didn’t like it. So I fought back. “Because it did. But it doesn’t matter, because you didn’t care. You didn’t write back. So it’s a moot point.”
He stared at me, the muscle in his jaw ticking. “I read them all.”
“So you said.”
“They kept me alive. They kept me sane.” He stalked over to the sofa and lifted a cushion, pulling out a crumpled stack of envelopes, like he’d hidden them there rather than be caught reading them. “These are my favorite ones. The ones I read every day. The rest are in my room.”
Jackson tossed the bundle at me. I caught them unsteadily, blinking down at them.
Immediately, I recognized the one on the top. It was written in my senior year. I knew, because I’d been experimenting with my writing, and had written my a’s differently. That phase hadn’t lasted long. It was the last letter I wrote to him. The one where I told him I still cared about him, but he was never going to acknowledge me, so I was done writing to him. It was my goodbye letter to a friend. A friend I still loved very much. “You have favorites.”
“Yeah.” He squared his jaw. “When a friend died? I read them. When I couldn’t sleep? I read them. You kept me alive. You kept me going. And when they stopped, when you told me you were done? I died a little bit more inside. So don’t tell me I didn’t care.”
I licked my lips. “Then why didn’t you write back?”
“Because I was trying to set you free, damn it. Trying to show you that I wasn’t for you. But those letters kept me fighting. They kept me alive.” He laughed. “But now I’m back, and I swear to God you’re trying to kill me.”
I licked my lips and held the letters close to my chest. Knowing my silly little letters meant that much to him—helped him in any way—made my legs tremble. “I don’t want to kill you.”
“I know.” He took the letters out of my hand, set them down reverently on the table, and cupped my cheeks. “And that’s what makes this whole thing even worse. I can’t possibly want another woman when I have you—but I don’t even have you. He does. He always will.”
I shook my head, blinking away tears. “No. He’s never had me, and you know it. It’s only you. It’s only ever been you.”
And in that moment, I knew if he asked me, right here and now, to run away with him…I would be tempted. For the first time ever, I would want to turn my back on people who were depending on me. I would want to be selfish. To choose happiness for myself over the basic welfare of others. And that made shame churn in my stomach.
“I know how this is going to end. No happy endings for us, right?” he said, laughing and resting his forehead on mine. “You’re going to break my heart. Which is funny, considering the fact that up until I came back home to you, I wasn’t even sure if I had a heart.”
“That’s the last thing I want to do, Jackson.” Tears stung my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. “I never wanted to make things harder on you.”
His hold on me tightened. “I should walk away. Never look back.”
“If that’s what you want…” I swallowed hard and nodded joltingly. “Go ahead and do it. I won’t stop you. I don’t have the right to try to stop you.”
He smoothed the hair out of my vision tenderly. “And you’d what? Follow Walt’s orders and marry a guy you don’t love?”
“I told you, I make my own choices. Maybe I fall back on old patterns from time to time, but everything that’s happening, everything that will happen, it’s my choice.” I waited for his response, my fingers curling into the bottom of his tee. “Like you said, there’s always a choice.”
He studied me. “Sometimes it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it, though.”
Like right now. “So…” I forced my expression to remain neutral, even though the idea of him leaving ripped my palpitating heart out of my chest. “You’re leaving?”
“I said I should leave.” He slid his hands down my body, cupping my butt. “Not that I would.”
“You said I’m drowning you.” I gripped the fabric of his shirt tighter, even though I knew I should let him go.
“You are.” He nuzzled my neck. He smelled like vodka and cigarette smoke. “But it’s okay. It feels so good.”
I closed my eyes, trying to resist the temptation to kiss him again. He didn’t need me crawling all over him. He needed to get in bed and sleep off the booze. “Let’s get you cleaned up. You smell like you drank t
he whole bar.”
He nodded and backed off, yawning. “Yeah. Okay.”
We went into his bathroom, and I started the shower for him. The pink tiles from my youth seemed to mock me, and I glanced over my shoulder at him. “Why did you pick this room?”
“Because it was farther away from you.” He yanked his shirt over his head. I, once again, admired his tattoos, transfixed by the sight. “I was trying to keep my hands to myself.” He paused. “I failed.”
“So did I,” I whispered.
“I should be upset about failing, because I hate failing.” He undid his pants and let them hit the floor. “But I’m not, because being with you is worth a taste of failure. You’re worth it, and it’s going to sting like a bitch when I leave.”
I forced a smile. He was so drunk, he probably didn’t even know what he was saying. “You told me you were good at leaving.”
Jackson blinked at me. “I did?”
“Yes, when you first moved in. In the kitchen.”
“Oh.” He ruffled his hair before he pulled me into his arms. He was naked, and I was not, and it felt deliciously sordid. “I am good at leaving, but with you, I have a feeling it won’t be so easy.”
The selfish part of me wanted it to be true, but the rest of me hoped not. We couldn’t be together, so I didn’t want him to suffer. “I want you to walk away happy. Not sad.”
“Then I’d have to leave now. Rip the Band-Aid clean off.” He brushed his lips across mine. “Because the longer I stay, the sadder I’ll be. Unhappy endings suck. Do you want me to go now? Do you want to stop?”
“I don’t want to stop,” I whispered, straining to get closer. “I think I’ll never want to stop. I’m selfish when it comes to you. And I refuse to pretend otherwise.”
“Good, because neither do I.”
He tore my dress over my head and caught my lips with his. Sliding his hands under my butt, he lifted me in his arms, and I hung on for dear life as he carried us both into the shower. I didn’t want to let go. Couldn’t let go. And I had a feeling it would be even harder to do so…
When he left for real.
Chapter 18
Jackson
The next morning, it was a miracle I woke up without a raging, blinding headache. I should have. Between the amount of booze I imbibed, and the fight I picked with some asshat in the club, I should have been aching. But I woke up with Lilly in my arms for the fourth morning in a row, and there was no way in hell I would feel any pain when she was with me.
The pain would only come when she was gone.
I frowned, but shook that thought off. I refused to let anything bring me down today. Last night Lilly had been selfish. The altruistic thing to do would have been to push me away, to let me go for my own sake, but she couldn’t do it. Even now, she lay curled up in my arms, her hand on my chest. And for the first time in my life, I let myself think…
We could have a happy ending.
Maybe I could keep her.
If she’d been selfish once, maybe she could be again. Maybe she’d see that marriage to save a company was too big a sacrifice for anyone to reasonably make. We could be happy together. We’d leave here, move to Hawaii, where no one knew we were stepsiblings. We could build a life together. A future.
These thoughts should’ve scared the shit out of me.
Should’ve sent me running in the opposite direction.
Instead, I hugged her closer and smiled. To think, it all started with a plate of chocolate chip cookies. Lilly had kept trying to reach me. She showed me that when you invested in someone, they made your life happier. Letting down your walls didn’t make you weaker.
It made you stronger.
I loved Lilly, and I was all the better for it.
She stirred, stretching her arm straight ahead of her. The curve of her back contrasted against the ridges of my biceps. I’d never get sick of seeing that. Of studying the ways we were different and yet still fit together perfectly. “Good morning.”
“Morning.” She smiled up at me, and I saw myself in her eyes. Saw the man I could be. The man I wanted to be. “You stayed.”
I raised a brow. “Well, it is my room. My very pink room.”
“Oh.” She flushed. “Right.”
“But even if it wasn’t, I would have stayed.” I hugged her close and kissed the top of her head. “No way in hell I’m letting go of you…just yet.”
She smiled up at me and traced one of my tattoos. Three red sevens intertwined with a four-leaf-clover backdrop. “The feeling is mutual.”
“This feels good. Waking up with you in my arms.” I breathed in her flower-and-vanilla scent, knowing I’d never forget it. No matter what happened, I wouldn’t forget the way she smelled. “But you know what would feel even better?”
“Hmm?” she asked, her hand creeping lower. It paused over my intricate Celtic cross tattoo, before moving inward. “This?”
“Hell, yeah.” I grinned and buried my hand in her soft hair, kissing her until she clung to me breathlessly. “But more specifically, I was thinking about food. We were up all night, making love, so I figured you had to be hungry.”
As if on cue, her stomach rumbled loud enough for me to hear it. “Uh…guess so.”
I laughed and kissed her one last time before rolling out of bed. “Well, then, let me cook for you. How’s bacon and pancakes sound?”
“Delightful.” She pressed a hand to her flat stomach. “You know how to cook?”
“Duh.”
Her lips twitched. “Did you seriously just say duh?”
“Don’t judge me,” I said, stepping into my boxers. “It felt right.”
She burst into laughter, and I found myself smiling just because she laughed. Because I made her laugh. My chest puffed out with pride, and I tossed my tee at her. “Put this on, and nothing else. We’ve got cooking to do.”
She stood up, stretching her gloriously naked body. “I thought you were cooking for me?”
“You’re in charge of coffee.”
“I think I can handle that since it’s a Keurig and all.” She shrugged into the shirt. I had about a foot on her, so it was longer with her body under it, easily hiding her ass from my view, but it felt as if I was claiming my territory. Temporarily. When I reached for her, she skirted away. “I’m going to go brush my teeth so I can kiss you properly.”
I couldn’t argue with that. In fact, I needed to do the same. “Do you have anywhere to be today?”
She shook her head and headed for the door. “Nope.”
“Good. Because I’m going to spoil you all day long.” I backed into the bathroom and held my arms out, grinning like a lunatic. “Your every wish and desire will be mine. I’m your own personal genie, come to life.”
She stopped in my doorway and stared back at me, her emerald eyes shining at me. “Sounds like you’re going to be irreplaceable by the end of the day. You better be careful, or I just might decide to keep you.”
After she walked away, I let my smile fade.
“I’m counting on that,” I said to the empty room.
—
An hour later, we were both covered in flour because she said something smart-ass that I thought deserved retaliation, and bacon was frying in a pan. We were on our second cup of coffee, and hadn’t stopped talking since we came downstairs. The past hour had been the picture-perfect example of domestic bliss. It had been a magical, perfect, peaceful morning. Instead of being bored, or antsy, or even wanting to escape, I was…
Happy. Imagine that.
She flipped a pancake—because she insisted on helping even though I told her she didn’t need to—and tapped her foot. I watched her, smiling.
I could do this. Live this life.
All I had to do was convince her she could, too.
Glancing over her shoulder, she caught me watching. Smiling coyly, she turned on her heel and walked over to me. “Whatcha thinking?”
“That you make me happy,” I admitted, not both
ering to hide it from her. I was done hiding things. “Seeing you here, in the kitchen with me, it feels right.”
She smiled and rested a hand on my heart. I covered it with my own. “You seem…different this morning.”
Funny. I felt different, too. More optimistic, but I knew it wouldn’t last for long. See, the pessimism was already creeping back. “Is that a bad thing, or a good thing?”
“Neither.” She caressed my skin with her thumb. “It’s just…different.”
She rose on tiptoe and kissed me.
The second our mouths met, I took control from her, tangling our tongues together. Hauling her into my arms, I lifted her up and set her on the counter. She spread her thighs so I could step between them, and I didn’t waste any time doing exactly that. All she wore was my tee with nothing underneath, as I’d commanded her to do, so all that stood between her and me was my thin boxers.
It was still too much.
Sliding my hands up her bare thighs, I crept under the soft cotton. She moaned and buried her hands in my hair, urging me closer. I deepened the kiss, sliding my hand even higher up her thigh until I touched her wet pussy. She was ready for me, and it would be so easy—so damn easy—to forget about food, and just worry about pleasing her for the rest of the day.
Until she never wanted to leave me.
The acrid smell of burning food reached my awareness at the same time as I heard the distinctive door chime that announced the arrival of the flowers I had ordered for her online. It was the first time I ever ordered flowers for a woman. Pink and yellow ones, because I knew she liked both those colors.
Reluctantly, I ended the kiss, running my thumb down her clit roughly. “I can keep going, since this is your day and you’re in charge, but the doorbell just rang, and our pancakes are about to burn. You tell me what to do.”
Groaning, she dropped her head back against the cabinet. “You get the door. I’ll get the pancakes. And then…” She pressed my hand closer to her flesh, moaning when I ran my thumb over her clit again. Breath hitched, she said, “We finish this.”
Bad Romance Page 18