Epic Lies (Epic Fail Book 2)

by Trudy Stiles

  I nip at her ear and kiss the side of her neck while her hand on top of mine slows, then speeds up, then slows again. She’s teasing me, and I love it. “Don’t stop,” she says and groans, “Oooooh.”

  “God, Giselle,” I pump faster into her and almost lose it. It’s such a different sensation, entering her from this angle. So much tighter.

  She removes her hand from mine, and I rub her pressure point until she explodes around me, her walls convulsing, pulling me deeper inside. My own orgasm rips through me, and I erupt inside of her. She doesn’t stop moving against me until she knows I’m finished. I slow down, and my length begins to twitch inside of her.

  “Whoa,” she says and rolls away from me, onto her stomach. “I think I need a nap after that.”

  I slide out of bed and quickly dispose of my condom. I grab the mouthwash from the bathroom sink, and quickly swish some in my mouth and bring the bottle out to her. I hand it to her along with an empty cup, so she can swish and spit. She sits up and looks at me funny, but does it anyway. “Ah, I needed that,” she says and smiles.

  I jump back on the bed and take her face between my hands, kissing her deeply. Mint swirls between our months and she pulls me against her, kissing me back. Our lips remain locked together as our tongues plunge into each other’s mouths. This is the hottest post-sex kiss I’ve ever had.

  “I wanted to do that when I was inside you, but I had the worst morning breath ever,” I admit, and she smiles against my lips.

  “It’s so much better with mouthwash,” she says. “My lips are tingling,” she giggles, and I kiss them again. “I’m tingling everywhere.” I’m lying on top of her, with the sheet as the only barrier between us.

  “Where else are you tingling?” I ask and raise my eyebrows.

  “You’ll have to guess.”

  I pull her lips against mine and devour her all over again. “I know what I want for breakfast,” she says against my lips.

  “Me?” I joke.

  “I want more bacon. And eggs. And French toast.” My stomach growls against hers, and she giggles when she feels the rumble.

  “I’ll order right now. Don’t. Move,” I say as I roll off of her and dial room service.

  I place the order and snuggle into bed next to her.

  “No pants today. At all,” I decree, and she giggles again.

  “You’re demanding, aren’t you?” She turns on her side to face me.

  “This is my room; I make the rules.”

  She stares into my eyes and looks like she’s contemplating something. “What are the rules with us, Dax? Do we have any after we leave here?”

  I brush the hair from her face so I can see her entirely. Her brows are furrowed, a line of stress forming on her skin between them. I run my thumb over it then down to her lips. “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “When we get home, what are the rules?” The look of concern on her face grows.

  “There aren’t any rules. I don’t make rules,” I say, confused.

  “No pants. That’s a rule. You make rules,” she reminds me.

  “Should we need them when we get home?” I ask.

  She closes her eyes, her face drawn. “I suppose we shouldn’t.” Wait. She’s thinking something she shouldn’t be.

  “I know I want to see you again. As much as I can, when we’re home. I go on the road in about two months, but I want to spend as much time with you as possible before I leave. And when I get back.” Her eyes pop open, and her smile is back.

  “Really?”

  “What did you think I was going to say?”

  “I’m not sure,” she says as I kiss her softly on the lips.

  “I’m sorry if you were expecting a one-night stand. I’m not that kind of guy,” I say, smiling.

  She breathes a sigh of relief, “Good.”

  “And I don’t lie,” I say, and her eyes glisten.

  “I don’t like liars,” she says, very matter-of-fact. “They’re the worst type of people.” I know there’s more meaning behind this statement, but I don’t pry.

  “I completely agree.” I kiss the tip of her nose. “I think we’re on the same page with that.”

  Her serious tone disappears, and she begins running her fingers up and down my arm. “Last night was amazing. This morning was–ahhh.” Her voice trails off, and a smirk forms over her lips.

  “Tell me,” I say.

  “What?” she asks, shyly.

  “Tell me how much you liked it when I–” There’s a light knock on the door.

  “Breakfast,” she smiles.

  I slip into my bathing suit, pull a t-shirt over my head, and open the door. The delivery person rolls the breakfast tray out onto the back patio so we can dine by the pool.

  Once he’s gone, Giselle steps out from the bedroom, wearing nothing but her bikini. “Where’s my cover-up?” she asks.

  I look around, but don’t see it. “Maybe on the floor in the bedroom?” I ask, hoping she doesn’t find it. “Breakfast is outside.” I reach for her hand and lead her out to the patio.

  Our platters are on the small table next to the pool, and the food looks amazing.

  She sits down, puts the cloth napkin over her legs, and waits for me to sit before she digs in to her food.

  “Oh my God. The bacon gets better and better,” she moans as she shoves a piece into her mouth. I love watching her eat. It’s so fucking sexy. I remember the night in the bar when she ate French fries and a chicken sandwich, and she wasn’t shy about it. I love it when a girl isn’t afraid to show her love of food. Natalia used to order a salad for most of her meals and never finished it.

  Why did I even think about her? Shit.

  “I can’t wait to take a dip in the pool after breakfast,” I say, and she nods.

  “I suppose that’s just as good as a shower,” she smiles.

  “A shower can also be arranged.” Now she blushes, and I love it. She can be a little brazen, but is reserved as well.

  Breakfast is quick as we both devour our food, cleaning our plates. She wipes her mouth and quickly jumps up. “Last one in is a rotten egg,” she chides and dives into the pool. She immediately pops up and screeches. “It’s so cold. Cold. Cold. COLD!” She bounces up and down in the water, and I can see goose bumps on her arms.

  I lean back, put my feet on the chair in front of me, and laugh.

  “Get your butt in here, right now!” she demands, and I shake my head. She kicks her leg, and a stream of water covers me, soaking through my shirt. It’s so cold, it’s hard to believe we’re in Mexico. I pull my t-shirt over my head and do a cannonball into the pool, practically on top of her. She screeches again as she tries to swim away from me, laughing.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” I shiver and reach out for her. She tries to wiggle out of my grasp, but I pull her against me. “You didn’t think you could soak me like that and get away with it, did you?” I say and quickly dunk her under the water, releasing her almost immediately.

  She comes up, gasping for air, “Oh No you did NOT!” she yells and lunges for me, trying to push me under the water by the top of my head. I don’t budge, and the frustration grows in her face. It’s adorable.

  “I can’t help it if I’m stronger than you.” I smirk. I’m suddenly swept off of my feet as her leg swipes at my knees, and they buckle. She uses that as her opportunity to dive on top of me, pushing me underneath her. My nose fills with water as I’m completely unprepared for her assault. I grab her waist and hold her still as I surface. “You know you’re going to pay for that, don’t you?” I say as water pours out of my nose, and I cough up some more.

  Her laughing turns to cackles, and she’s squirming once again in my arms. “Oops,” she says and tries to swim away.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” I say and pull her against me. I steal a kiss from her, and she relaxes into my arms. Her arms wrap around the back of my neck at the same time she wraps her legs around my hips. Just like last night when I had her up again
st the dining room wall, except this time, we’re weightless in the water. More free to move against each other with ease.

  My lips assault hers, our tongues once again twisted together. She moans into my mouth, and I know I need to get her out of this pool, now. I walk with her in my arms, her body pressing against mine, up and out of the pool, and drop her onto the lounge nestled into the corner of the patio. She’s soaking wet, and I pull her bikini bottoms off, tossing them onto the patio with a wet flop. Her top is easier to remove and that, too, hits the ground quickly. Her eyes are wide and nervous. “Out here?” she asks softly.

  “Yes,” I say and run inside to grab another condom. When I return, I strip out of my swim trunks as she’s trying to cover her nakedness with her hands. I shake my head, “I want to see you.” She blushes and moves her hands away, exposing her breasts. She parts her legs slightly as I climb on top of her.

  “Can anyone see us?” she asks, looking over my shoulder.

  “No.” The patio is very private. Lush landscape. I’m not worried.

  She spreads her legs wider, making space for me to press between them. She gasps as I bury myself deep inside her in one thrust. She’s already become accustomed to me, and we fit together perfectly. Amazingly. She throws her head back and pushes her hips up to meet mine, sealing the space between us. “Oooooh,” she says, and her mouth opens as a whimper escapes her lips. I have to claim them again as I pull her mouth to me. I’m sucking, biting, and pulling her lips against mine, devouring her cries and moans. Her release comes quickly, feverishly. Her walls convulse around me, once again demanding me to follow suit. I drive deep one last time as I unleash my own powerful orgasm, ripples continue throughout my body, and my arms and legs become weak.

  Our breathing begins to slow down, mimicking our bodies as they move against each other. I’ve never been with anyone like Giselle, she’s completely taken all power and control from me. If she asked me to jump off a bridge, I would. I would do anything for her, if I could always see the look she has in her eyes right now. Sated. Seductive. Innocent. All blended together in a look that brings me to my knees.

  I reluctantly pull out of her and rush inside to dispose of my condom. I grab a soft blanket from the bed and toss it over her as I slide onto the lounge next to her. Our bodies entwined, her head on my chest. I contemplate never leaving this place, keeping her here with me forever.

  “What are you thinking?” she asks as she pulls herself tightly against my side. This is typically a question I dread. A question so many girls have asked in this same position with me. It’s a question I’ve never answered truthfully, until today.

  “That I never want to leave here. I want to stay here with you forever.” I feel her smile against my chest.

  “Oh.” She kisses me above my heart.

  “All truths and no lies,” I say, kissing the top of her head.

  She leans up, looking at my chest with a funny look on her face.

  “What?” I laugh, suddenly self-conscious.

  She’s tracing the small tattoo over my heart, and my chest clenches.

  “Why is the unlock code for my phone tattooed right here?” she asks, pressing her finger into those numbers. The numbers that have been etched into my skin since high school.

  “What?” I ask, confused.

  “Zero-eight-two-four?” she says, her voice shaking.

  “It’s not your phone code, is it?” I ask, incredulously. That’s when I realize why it seemed so familiar to me that day that I punched it into her phone.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, it’s been there for years,” I tell her.

  “Why? What does it mean?” she asks, panic in her voice, and I don’t know why.

  “It’s a date. And it means something to me,” I admit.

  Her shoulders start to shake and tears threaten to spill from her eyes. What’s going on?

  “It means something to me, too,” she says, sighing heavily.

  “What?” I ask, needing to know.

  She pauses as if she’s not going to tell me, but continues. “It’s my cousin’s birthday. It’s also the day she died,” she says, tears flowing down her cheeks.

  “Who’s your cousin?” My chest is tight, and my pulse quickens. Now I know where I’ve seen her before. Now I know exactly how I know her. It’s been bothering me from the moment I stepped into her car and made eye contact. I know her from years ago. She was there. At her funeral. She was the girl in the rose bushes. I ask her again, “What was your cousin’s name?” I’m desperate, and I need to hear her say it.

  “Her name was Lara…”

  Giselle

  Present

  “DID YOU SAY LARA?” Dax asks, and I nod, wiping tears from my eyes.

  “Yes,” I say. “I’m really sorry, I shouldn’t have freaked out on you. It’s just a date that means so much to me. It’s a date that’s happy, sad, and scary all in one. Crazy coincidence that you have it tattooed on your chest.” I can’t believe Lara’s birthday, the day she died, and the day that Troy raped me is stained on his skin. My heart races, and I struggle to breathe. Memories of Lara flood my brain as well as Troy’s sinister smile. A paradox of emotions rips through me, and I try to remain composed, but it’s no use. My shoulders shake as sobs escape. I need to get control of myself. What the hell is wrong with me?

  He’s silent and tense underneath me, and now I feel bad that I cried all over him. He must think I’m an emotional wreck. “I’m not usually like this,” I explain to him. “Say something,” I beg.

  He tightens his grasp around my waist and shakes his head. “I can’t believe this,” he says, covering his eyes with his free hand.

  God. Why is this happening?

  He’s going to politely ask me to leave, and I’ll never see him again. He doesn’t need someone with emotional baggage triggered by a freaking date on a calendar.

  I move to scoot off the bed and realize we’re both naked underneath. “Can I get up so I can get my things?” I ask, embarrassed. I just want to get out of here and hide in my room.

  He shakes his head, staring at me. “No,” he says, and he almost seems choked up. What’s going on?

  “Dax, this is getting weird. I think I need to leave.” Seeing Lara’s birthday triggered something in me that I haven’t felt in a while. I miss her so much, and I hate that she shares that day with my own inner turmoil. She was a year younger than me and was like my sister. My cousin-twin. There will always be a connection between us. Seeing that date on Dax’s chest reminds me of all of that and more.

  “We need to talk.”

  “I think I need to get dressed,” I respond, and I’m really uncomfortable. I can’t believe our little paradise is already crashing and burning. What happened to all truths, no lies?

  “Giselle, do you remember me?” he asks, and I sit up, holding the blanket over my chest. I look at him, and now I’m completely confused.

  “Where would I remember you from?” I ask. He was familiar to me that day, but it’s because he’s famous, right? This is an obvious question.

  “Think,” he says, and he doesn’t let go of me.

  “I have no idea,” I say to him honestly. “I’ve seen you before, on TV and stuff, but–”

  “When you were a teenager, the day Lara was buried,” he says, waiting for my response.

  “How would you know when she was buried?” I ask, my heart pounding in my chest.

  “I was there.”

  How can this be? I’m so confused. I begin to sob as I remember that day. She was dead, and our family as we knew it was forever changed. I ran from the church, feeling tremendous guilt as the possible cause of her decision to stop all treatments. I was nauseous and had to get outside before I puked all over the aisle in front of everyone who was there celebrating Lara’s life. There were roses, and thorns, and the Virgin Mary. And then I remember him, helping me when I was sick. His t-shirt cleaning the blood and puke from my face and body. His kind and concerned vo
ice, speaking softly to me. Dax?

  “You were there,” I repeat his words in disbelief.

  He sits up and places his hands on my shoulders, as if he’s about to tell me something I don’t want to hear.

  “You were outside the church, bloody and throwing up in the rose bushes. I helped you.” I freeze and hold my breath. He was there.

  “Oh my God,” I say and begin to tremble. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask him.

  “I didn’t know who you were. Until now,” he says, but doesn’t let me go. His grasp on my arms tightens, and I can tell there’s more.

  “Why is Lara’s birthday tattooed above your heart?” I ask, but now I know, and I feel sick.

  “I was in love with her,” he chokes out. And she loved you.

  “You’re Daxton,” I say and realize I know much more about him than he realizes. He’s Lara’s first love. Her only love. She hid her symptoms. Lied to her parents. Lied to me so she could prolong her time with him, before treatments would begin again. When the doctors realized how far along her cancer had progressed, where it had spread to, she decided to forego treatment altogether. She wanted to spend as much time with him as she could. With Daxton.

  How could I have not known?

  He nods his head and closes his eyes. “I can’t believe this,” he says, and I pull away from him. He’s disgusted now. He’s been having sex with his dead girlfriend’s cousin.

  Fuck.

  “I feel sick.” I slide, still-naked, out of the covers and run into his room. I find my cover-up on the floor and pull it over my head, hiding my nakedness, hiding my shame and embarrassment. I need to get out of here.

  He’s standing in the doorway of his bedroom, blocking my exit. He’s pulled on a pair of shorts, but his chest is still bare, and Lara’s birthday screams at me from over his heart.