by London James
“Yes, Rowan. Like that. Just like that. Don’t stop. Don’t!”
“I never plan on stopping,” I growl before sucking her bottom lip into my mouth. The base of my spine tingles sending the best sensations through my shaft.
“I’m going to come,” she cries, and the start of her orgasm squeezes me tighter than I ever thought possible.
“Come with me,” I gasp, as my impending orgasm steals my breath.
“Everly,” I whisper, at the same time she says my name.
We shout at the top of our lungs from the pleasure. Fuck, so much pleasure. I empty my seed inside her, pushing it deeper with every thrust as her spasming walls help bring it to her womb.
I collapse on top of her, shaking, and take her lips in a slow, passionate kiss. I go to roll to my side to situate myself next to her, but I roll off the bed and hit the wood floor with a hard smack.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” I groan as the dream vanishes and reality appears. “Ow.” I get on my hands and knees, groaning as pain sears my hip. Yep, that will leave a bruise. I stumble over to the bathroom and flip the light on and curse when I see myself in the mirror.
Cheeks are flushed. Sweat drips down my temples. Come is splattered along my chest with a few drops in the thick of my bush above my cock. I run to the bed to make sure Everly isn’t there because that felt too real. There’s no way we weren’t having sex. Except I see more come on the bed—my come.
I pull the strands in my hair as I try not to freak out. A wet dream? A fucking wet dream? What am I? Fourteen?
I sit on the bed and look down at my semi-hard cock still leaking my orgasm. The best orgasm I’ve ever had since I was eighteen in the cab of my truck. “We need to move on. And you aren’t helping things by wanting her,” I say, as if my cock has a mind of its own. I fall back on the bed and curse as I land in the puddle of my own come.
“Great.” I get up, yank the sheets off the bed and turn on the shower to get all the sweat and sex off me.
Dream sex that is.
I step in the shower and lean my hands against the wall, hanging my head to let the hot water drape over me. I know it isn’t just my cock that wants her. It’s every ounce of me. My soul, my mind, my heart, my blood, my nerves, my skin, just my entire being yearns for that woman.
A woman who doesn’t want me.
Chapter 8
Everly
When I saw Rowan standing near my door, I’d thought all hell was going to break loose, but Gray grabbed him before he could say anything else that could make me cry. I assumed he would have said things that were hurtful.
I deserve it. I will take any words he has to say to me like a whipping post. He has a lot he needs to say to me, and I can’t argue with him about it because, at the end of the day, I’m the reason why we are in the situation we are in. I don’t blame him for wanting to confront me. I want to confront him too, but at this point, and with how bad things are, I don’t know how to. And will he even want to listen to me? I don’t know. I think he just needs to vent because the forgiveness train, for me to tell him I’m sorry, has left the station.
“Good afternoon,” my mother announces the next morning, kissing me on the cheek. “Have you and Rowan made up yet?”
“Don’t really want to talk about it, Mom,” I reply, scooping another spoonful of cereal in my mouth.
“So that’s a no, then,” she sighs, opening the cabinet to grab a white coffee mug. “I don’t understand. I thought you guys were in love. I mean I guess it is a good thing you’re not, since you’re related now.”
“We aren’t related. You and his dad are only engaged.” I drink the milk from the bowl and set it on the counter when I’m done. “Besides, even if you were married, Rowan and I are far from being siblings, Mom. We’re adults now. It’s pointless to think of it that way, really.”
“Oh, that’s great news, honey.” Right as she puts the rim of the mug to her lips, she mutters, “Because we got married last night.”
The orange juice slips out of my hands, and the glass shatters on the floor, sending small pieces and orange juice all over.
“What?” I shriek. I really thought this engagement was a fluke. I thought it would blow over.
“What?” Rowan echoes from the hallway.
“Married?” I sputter. “Already?”
“Well, it was kind of spur-of-the-moment. We decided we didn’t need all that fancy stuff. Just the two of us at the courthouse.”
Part of me is deeply hurt that she didn’t want to invite me to her wedding. Another part of me is grateful I didn’t have to go.
I glance over at Rowan, panicked, but he still won’t meet my eyes.
Gray helps himself to a peach from the bowl on the kitchen island and smiles. “Oh man, this keeps getting better and better.”
“We’re a family! Isn’t this wonderful?” My mother hugs him, and he shoots daggers at me like it’s my fault our parents fell in love. “Now, I don’t expect you to call me Mom or anything, but at least call me Barbara now, okay? No more of that Ms. Madison,” she giggles.
Giggles.
My mother does not giggle. Who is this woman?
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll do my best.”
Gray leans over and whispers from the side of his mouth, “So I guess the sex would be forbidden now between you guys, or…?”
“I’m this close to stabbing you with this spoon, Gray.” I pick up the spoon and twirl it between my fingers; my reflection glaring off the polished silver.
He feigns insult by throwing his hand to his chest and gasping, “That’s assault. I thought we were closer than that.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I don’t even know your last name, or your middle name. Friends know those things.”
“Grayson Lauren Jones,” he puffs out his chest proudly.
“Lauren?” I try and hide my smile.
“It’s a family name. And Lauren is a unisex name!”
“That explains it.” I roll my eyes, bending over to clean up my mess. I want to get out of this house as soon as possible.
“Explains what?”
“The boobs,” I slide my eyes down his very firm, in shape pectoral muscles. They’re far from womanly, but I still want to give him crap for it.
“I do not,” he snatches the spoon from my hand and tries to see his own reflection in it, twisting and turning his chest in the small curvature of the spoon.
I giggle, covering my mouth with my hand to muffle it with my shirt sleeve.
He tosses the spoon back in my bowl. “Jerk. I’ll have you know these pecs are hard earned. Five times a week, an hour a day.”
“Impressive.”
“I know,” he singsongs.
“Let’s go, Gray,” Rowan cuts in. “We have a meeting with the construction company. Congrats on the wedding.” He doesn’t bother looking at me as he walks around the counter, giving me a wide berth.
It’s different this time though. His expression seems guilty, instead of hateful. He did something. I know that look. I want to ask so bad, but considering I’m still not sure how he’ll react, it’s probably best if I keep my distance.
“Alright, everyone. I’m heading out. I have a plane to catch soon.” I wash out my bowl and lay it in the dishwasher. “Good luck with your construction, guys,” I tell the boys, and turn to my mom, “I love you, mom. I’m happy for you.”
Deep down, I really am glad that she found love. She deserves it after my dad died. I just wish I could find love, too. So, I can put the man I’m now apparently related to in the past.
“Wait, you’re leaving? Already? Your break just barely started,” Rowan frowns, taking a step forward.
“I love you too, sweetie. Tell me when you get back to New York, okay?” she kisses me on the cheek and grabs her mug before walking down the hall and to Mr. Michaels’ office. I shudder, thinking about what they might do in there. Gross.
I let out a large exhale after my mom leaves the room and r
un my finger along the granite countertop. I make sure not to look at him because I know I’ll end up staying if I get one glimpse of those crystalline blue eyes I love so much.
“Yes. I had to move my flight up. I have some things to take care of, and I need to get back and get settled before classes start again. I wish you guys luck. It’s really great what’s happening for you. I’m proud of you, Rowan. It was nice to meet you, Gray,” my voice hitches as emotion burns my eyes from how bad I want to hug the man I love. “I need to go.”
I flee down the hall and grab onto the railing as I swing myself around to climb up the steps. Once I’m out of their sight, I let out the sob that’s been strangling my chest for the last few days. The wall catches me as I stumble against it and lose my footing. The despair finally leaving my body is too much. I can’t be in this house another day.
“Everly!” Rowan yells from the downstairs lobby, and I hear him running up the steps after me.
I do what I do best.
I run.
And slam my bedroom door, letting the cries disable me until I’m sliding down the wood separating me from the biggest mistake I’ve made in my entire life. I want to throw myself into his arms so bad and finally feel at home, but I can’t. I’m having withdrawals from him. My body shakes from not getting the fix. I’m addicted.
And I’ll never be okay without him. I’ll consistently be on the mend, trying to move on from the one thing I want most.
“Everly,” Rowan repeats, with a shake of the doorknob.
I muffle my cries with my hand and pull my legs to my chest. My cheek finds my knee, and the tears find a new path to fall down, wetting the material of my leggings.
The door stops jiggling, but I still hear him breathing.
“Everly.” This time when he says my name, it isn’t full of demand or hate, but yearning. I turn around on my knees and stand, placing my hand on the door.
“Rowan,” I find the strength to say his name, even if it does sound weak on a short, quaking breath.
He doesn’t say anything, but I hear him. I hear his deep sighs and the creaks in the old, wooden floors as he shuffles his weight from one leg to another. I gasp as I feel heat on the other side of the door, searing my hand. I stare at the spot with wide eyes, but I don’t say a word because I know it’s all in my head. There is no way I can feel his hand on the other side of this door, no matter how much I wish I could.
I lean my forehead against the door, rolling it back and forth from the restraint I’m fighting. I want to open the damn door.
“Everly.”
“Rowan,” I whisper.
We don’t say anything else. Everything that needs to be said, is said in that moment. I gasp as the heat I felt, the connection, the familiar magnetic pull between us, breaks. His hand is gone. The heavy steps of him walking away only makes fresh tears fall.
I hate this house.
I hate this room.
I hate it all.
I run to my suitcase, unzip it, and throw all my clothes from the drawers in the bag. I don’t fold them. I don’t care. I need out of here. My pain still drips down my face in heavy flows, and I brush it away with my forearm. Next, I run to the bathroom and grab all my items off the counter and toss them in my bag, carelessly.
I grab my cell charger, stuff it in my purse, and run out the door. Voices carry from the kitchen and pause their conversation when they hear my footsteps coming down the marble staircase.
“Everly!” Gray’s voice begs me to stop, but I don’t.
I rush outside to the freezing cold weather and drag my suitcase through the snow. It can get wet for all I care. I’ve been living in this personal hell for too long. It’s time I go home now.
“Wait, you mad woman!” Gray yells, right before snatching the bag out of my hand.
“Gray, not right now, okay? I need to go. My flight leaves soon.” It doesn’t leave for another five hours, but an airport full of people I don’t know is better than this place.
He holds up his hand in surrender but doesn’t let my bag go. “I know, okay. I know you need to leave. I just want to say something real quick, and you can be on your way.”
I cross my arms over my chest and tap my foot against the pressed snow. “Okay.”
“I don’t know everything that went on between you two, and I don’t know you too well, but you seem like a kind person—a good person. And whatever happened for you to run from him all those years ago, I think there is a reason, but you haven’t said it.”
He hands me his card with his cell phone number. “If you want to talk about it, call me. I can be your friend and his. And whatever we talk about, stays between us. He is hurt because he loves you still, so much—”
I snort. Yeah, seems like a lot of love.
He tilts his head and smiles sympathetically. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but heartbreak changes people. He is changed. And so are you. It was nice to meet you, okay?” He holds out his arms for a hug, and I comply.
He is a good friend. I’m happy for Rowan. I press my cheek against his chest, and it still doesn’t feel like Rowan’s. No one ever will.
“Take care of him for me.” I snatch my bag from his hands and unlock my car. “It was good to meet you, Gray. I hope you guys get everything you want.”
He shoves his hands in his pockets and nods. “I hope the same for you, Everly.”
I give him a sad, forced smile and climb in the car. It takes all of my being not to look in the rear-view mirror as I chase the driveway down its paved path. I can’t look back. I just have to keep moving forward, and then maybe one day, the future won’t seem so daunting, and the past won’t seem so tempting.
Chapter 9
Rowan
It’s been fifteen hours since she left.
I’m at Flamingo’s, the new bar in Spokane, and I swirl the shot glass around in a circle on the bar, watching the amber liquid threaten to spill from the rim. It’s my birthday as of two minutes ago, and Gray got me a birthday shot since he has been twenty-one for a few months and wants me to celebrate.
“Staring at it won’t bring her back,” Gray comments as he sips on his beer and stares at the crowd of people filling the bar. It’s a neat place. Neon flamingos hang on the wall, there’s a dance floor, tables if you want food. Spokane has never had anything like this before, so I’m sure it will do well here.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I toss the shot back and wince as flames burn my throat. My eyes water, and the whiskey sits in my stomach, giving it a slight burn. I see why people drink it now. I haven’t thought of her for the entire ten seconds it took to swallow.
I wave the bartender down and signal him for another one.
“Okay, if that’s the case, let’s pick you up somebody. Let’s get you a warm body under that cold, broken heart of yours that you’ve been milking for two years.”
I lift a brow at Gray, but I don’t get mad. He is right. I should be over it by now, and I don’t know why I’m not. “I’m good. I don’t need anyone warming my bed. Leave the bottle,” I tell the bartender as he pours the shot right in front of me.
“Yes, you do. But the warm body you want is in New York City right now.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t want anything to do with her.” The lie poisons my tongue. I want everything to do with her.
“Liar,” he fires back, smiling at a big-breasted brunette as she walks by.
I toss the shot back and don’t say anything. So what if I do want Everly still, after she dragged my heart through barbed wire and nails. I just want to forget about her. I want to get so drunk, the memory of the brown-headed siren fades to black, and her name is nothing but a slur on my tongue.
“Can I ask you something?” He pulls the stool out and takes the shot from my hand that I just poured myself. He tosses the shot back and cringes. “Jesus, what is that? Well whiskey? We are millionaires, and you get well whiskey?” He waves the bartender
over and pushes the Jack Daniels across the countertop. “Give us your best bottle of the expensive stuff.”
“The bottle is four hundred dollars.”
Gray doesn’t say anything in return, just stares waiting for the bartender to do something. “Oh, you are wanting a reaction. Yes, four hundred, it’s fine.”
“Oh, okay.” The bartender seems surprised. I don’t blame him. We are a bit young to ask for a bottle that expensive.
“I didn’t care about what kind of whiskey, Gray. I just wanted something.”
“To numb the pain,” he nods, as though he is finishing the sentence.
“No, to celebrate. I’m finally twenty-one. Woo!” I say, with no enthusiasm whatsoever.
“I don’t know how I’m friends with you, man. You can be so depressing sometimes.”
I turn on my stool, a little offended. “That’s not true. I’m fun. We have fun all the time.”
He lifts his eyebrows, not convinced. “You’re a sad sap, bro.”
“Am not,” I mutter, taking another shot of whiskey. “Seeing her was a shock, okay? I didn’t expect to ever see her again, let alone be her stepbrother. It’s weird. I don’t know how to handle it. I’ve known this girl my entire life. Everything I can remember has to do with her. She is in everything. Have you had that before? That kind of connection? I’ve climbed up the side of her house and snuck into her room just to watch TV with her, just to hang out. We went to every dance together. We had the chickenpox together. When her dad died, I was there for her. When my mom died, she was there for me. It isn’t as fucking black and white as you’re making it out to be. She was my only constant. So yeah, it was like losing a part of me. She was my family, in the sense of being a soulmate. I thought that’s what she was. So, can you just get off my fucking back about how I am acting and dealing? I don’t know how to deal with it. I was fine until I saw her. It brought back emotions I pushed aside.”