CHAPTER TEN
The drive to the Lakeside Camping Resort was a short ten-minute trip from the restaurant—not nearly long enough for Evie to have a conversation about Eric’s family with him. She was still blown away by what he’d revealed, and while she’d given him carte blanche to fabricate whatever story he wanted about his background, she knew he’d opted for the truth. There was no way Eric would make up something so devastating. Most importantly, with her hand holding his, she’d literally felt his pain and had seen it etched all over his face after he’d told them he’d had a twin sister who had died so tragically young.
Her heart hurt for him and everything he must have gone through at such a young age—and that still clearly affected him. On the outside, Eric Miller came across as a fun-loving, easygoing guy who seemed to have a charmed life. Or maybe that’s just what she wanted to believe since it was easier not to get emotionally attached that way. Which was why she hadn’t asked him about his family, or any other personal questions, up to this point. She honestly thought it didn’t matter considering he was just a hired boyfriend, but suddenly, his life, his scars and heartaches made a difference to her.
When they arrived at the resort, they drove past the main lodge, where they were scheduled to meet family for a buffet breakfast, and followed the signs to their cabin. Eric parked the car, he grabbed their bags, and they followed the pathway to the cute log structure. They climbed the three stairs to a small porch, and with the key that Evie’s mother had given to her, she opened the door and stepped inside.
Since this wasn’t her first time at Lakeside, she already knew what the interior of the cabins looked like, but considering she and Eric were essentially going to be living together for the next few days, it suddenly seemed very . . . intimate.
A double-sized bed filled the main room, with an attached bathroom with a walk-in shower and vanity—and there was no overlooking the basket of “goodies” her mother had left propped up against the pillows. From the entrance, you could glimpse the kitchenette around the corner, with a tiny refrigerator, stove, coffeemaker, and table with two chairs. There wasn’t a couch or TV. Then again, they weren’t there to lie around and spend the weekend watching Netflix. No, Lakeside Camping Resort was all about unplugging and getting in touch with nature.
“I told you the cabin was small,” she said, turning to face Eric.
“I didn’t expect a penthouse,” he joked, though he seemed distracted, and she was pretty sure she knew the cause.
Their dinner conversation was probably still subconsciously on his mind. And since it was a beautiful and cool July evening and dusk was settling in, she decided that she didn’t want to spend the rest of the night cooped up in the cabin. Leaving the luggage packed for now, she opened the closet and grabbed an extra quilt-like blanket and tucked it into the crook of her arm, then came back to Eric, who was still standing by the door.
He glanced in confusion at the bed covering she was holding. “What’s with the blanket?”
She smiled at him. “I want to take you to a place that you’d never find in the city.”
He arched a brow. “Sounds intriguing.”
“More like incredibly peaceful.” And right now, she was pretty sure he’d welcome the tranquil atmosphere.
As soon as they made their way down the porch and she took a path heading away from the cabin, Eric slipped his hand into her free one, as if it was the most natural thing for him to do. Like they were a real couple. And just like an infatuated schoolgirl with her crush, she felt butterflies fluttering in her stomach.
They continued following the trail, which was lit up by solar path lights that helped lead the way. Before long, they arrived at a small clearing that sloped gently down to the lake. For the most part, they were surrounded by tall pine trees, and with the moon slowly rising, it created a mesmerizing silvery effect on the rippling water. Everything was calm and quiet . . . except for crickets chirping and a distant, occasional hoot of an owl. Nature’s harmonica, her grandpa would always say.
Eric stood there for a long moment, taking it all in before he released a deep breath. “Wow. This is a beautiful spot, especially at night.”
“It’s one of my favorite places to visit when we come here.” She was suddenly glad that she’d decided to share it with him. “Sometimes I get lucky, like tonight, and nobody is here.”
She opened up the blanket, and Eric helped her spread it out on the grassy knoll. She sat down, adjusting her summer dress accordingly, and patted the spot next to her for him to join her. He didn’t hesitate to settle on the blanket beside her, and they both stared out at the lake in companionable silence, enjoying the serene surroundings.
After a while, she turned her head to look at him, though he kept his gaze pinned straight ahead. The moon provided enough illumination for her to see the outline of his strong, handsome profile and those sensual lips she loved having on her own.
She hated to shatter this peaceful moment between them, but she did it anyway. “Eric . . . what happened with your twin sister?” Evie genuinely wanted to know about the sibling he’d lost.
He closed his eyes and groaned. “Evie . . .”
She heard the reluctance in his voice, and before he could refuse her, she added, “Did you really think I wasn’t going to ask about her?”
He huffed out a small laugh and turned his head, meeting her gaze. “No, I figured you would. But I was hoping you wouldn’t.”
Knowing her question wasn’t completely unexpected, just unwanted, she gently persisted. “Eric, you could have made up a background and family situation that was ideal and perfect, but you didn’t,” she said, pointing out the obvious. “You can’t just say you had a twin sister who died and not expect me to care enough to want to know what happened. Because I do care.” Probably more than was wise.
He gave her a faint but genuine smile. “I know you care, because that’s the kind of selfless person you are.”
And still, he avoided the topic, so she tried once more. “I imagine it’s incredibly painful to talk about, and you’ve probably discussed it with family more than you care to, but the way you spoke about her at dinner . . . you’re clearly still dealing with the pain of losing her.” Then again, did a loss like that ever really go away? No, she didn’t think so, but Eric’s grief still felt fresh and raw, despite the ten plus years that had passed.
“No, I actually haven’t talked about it since Trisha died. I mean, there have been rare instances when I’ve told select people about her and what happened, but never in detail.” His jaw hardened ever so slightly. “As for my parents, they both dealt with her death in different, selfish ways, but we never discussed what happened, nor did we grieve Trisha’s death together.”
Which meant he’d probably suffered alone, and her chest squeezed tightly at the thought. She remained quiet and didn’t push for more at this point, leaving it all up to Eric whether or not he decided to share those personal, private details.
Much to her surprise, his stiff shoulders relaxed a fraction, though he kept his gaze focused on the lake, not her. “When Trisha turned fifteen, she started getting frequent infections and bruising and nosebleeds. She was always tired and not feeling well, so of course my mother took her to the doctor to figure out what was wrong. Blood tests showed her platelets were off, and after a bone marrow biopsy, that’s when the diagnosis of leukemia came in.”
He drew up his knees and rested his arms across them. “From there, she spent a year in treatment and in and out of hospitals. She went through a stem cell transplant, more rounds of chemo and radiation than I can count, and God, she was so strong through it all.” He shook his head in wonder as a faint smile touched his lips, then gradually faded. “She lost all her beautiful long hair, and when she decided to shave her head of the few pieces that were left, we did it together so she wouldn’t have to do it alone. When she was in the hospital, I spent every day with her, playing games, reading to her, or watching TV. Being twin
s, she was my best friend and my other half and the thought of losing her scared the shit out of me.”
He scrubbed a hand along his jaw and finally glanced at Evie, his eyes so somber it made her want to cry past the huge lump gathering in her throat. “We had a few months of believing she was in remission . . . but the leukemia came back, faster and stronger than before. She agreed to more chemo and radiation . . . and God, seeing how sick and how much pain she was in after her treatments, it nearly killed me, and I kept thinking, why couldn’t I have been the one to get the cancer instead of my sister? I would have gladly traded places with her. I would have fucking died for her.”
His voice sounded like it had been scraped across gravel, and Evie leaned closer to him, looping her arm through his. Since she knew there were no words to ease his anguish, she cuddled up to his side just to be near him, so he knew he wasn’t alone emotionally.
He exhaled a ragged breath. “Then came the words she’s terminal, and I remember screaming at my parents that it couldn’t be true. That Trisha did everything to kick cancer’s ass and she was going to fucking make it . . . except she didn’t.” He rubbed his fingers across his eyes, and the rawness of his voice told Evie he was wiping away tears. “I held her hand when she drew her last breath and passed away, and a huge part of me died that day right along with her. There’s a part inside of me that’s been hollow ever since.”
His story ripped at Evie’s insides like nothing ever had, and she couldn’t contain the sob that escaped her throat or the tears that fell from the corners of her eyes. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered through her own emotions.
He turned his head and gently, sweetly kissed her temple. “I know,” he murmured. “Me, too.”
Wrapping one arm around her, he lay back on the blanket, bringing her down with him so that she was snuggled against his chest and her head rested on his shoulder. His fingers filtered through her hair, playing with the strands, while she slid an arm around his midsection, holding him tight, wishing there were more words to take away his grief. I’m sorry just didn’t seem adequate enough.
He stared up at the stars twinkling in the clear night sky. “Before Trisha passed away, we had the best parents, family, and childhood any kid could ask for. But after she died, nothing was the same. Not that I expected it to be, obviously, but I thought I’d at least be able to count on my parents to be there for me. I was only sixteen at the time, still in high school, and I needed them to be there for me.”
He shook his head sadly, and Evie just let him talk.
“My parents wouldn’t discuss her death. They shut down emotionally. My father . . . he spent more time at work than at home, probably because my mother withdrew from everyone and fell into a deep depression, and for the next two years, it was like living in this bleak, gloomy atmosphere where I kept my own pain bottled up inside. When I finally graduated from high school, my parents divorced and I moved into a dorm at San Diego State University instead of living at home. I just couldn’t be in that environment anymore.”
God, he’d had everything snatched away from him so quickly. His sister. His parents. Normal teenager years. It sounded as though he’d gone from a stable, secure childhood to a shattered one that couldn’t be put back together. “Living in a dorm was probably for the best,” she said.
“It was,” he agreed, placing his hand over hers that was resting on his chest. “I was surrounded by friends and distracted, but looking back, I really should have seen a therapist,” he said with a hoarse laugh. “I felt so guilty that I was the one to live and my sister was the one to die. It was so fucking unfair, and that thought really messed with my head because I had no one to talk to about it.”
“Survivor’s guilt,” she murmured, certain that’s what he’d gone through.
He breathed deep, and she felt the rise and fall of his chest beneath her palm. “Yes, I know that now, though I’d like to think that I’ve come to terms with the fact that I can’t change what happened or who it happened to.”
“They say that it’s always the hardest on the ones left behind when someone dies,” she said softly.
“So true,” he agreed. “Watching someone die like that and feeling so helpless and having your heart torn into a million different pieces . . . It’s something I never want to put anyone through, and I swore I never would.”
She lifted her head from his shoulder so she could see his face, confused by his statement. “How so?”
A wry smile barely touched his lips, but she saw it in the moonlight and it made her stomach twist uncomfortably. “Trish and I were fraternal twins. We shared the same genetic profile. I’ve read articles and there is a risk that I could develop cancer, too.”
Shock rippled through her. She’d only known Eric a short while, but that possibility wasn’t something she even wanted to consider. “You can’t live your life thinking like that.”
He shrugged, and she could see the resignation in his eyes as he looked into hers. “I already have, Evie. It’s why I’ve never had a long-term relationship.”
She gaped at him in disbelief. “Ever?”
“Ever,” he stated adamantly.
She shook her head incredulously. “How is that even possible at your age?”
“It’s possible because of everything I just told you,” he said, as if it were that simple. And for him, it probably was that straightforward. “I’m not going to put some woman through that possibility, then end up breaking her heart. It’s not fair to her. I’m not going to build a family with someone and chance leaving a wife without a husband and kids without a father. It’s just easier to keep things light and casual.”
His rationale seemed so extreme . . . but then again, it made sense, too, considering his traumatic past. “Eric, you deserve to be happy, just like anyone else.” Despite the risks he faced.
He lifted his hand and brushed back the hair that had fallen forward and around her face as she glanced down at him. “I am happy.”
Maybe superficially, she thought, but he was living only half of what should have been a whole, fulfilled life. And the fact that he’d likely never experience a true, deep sense of joy and someone to share it with because of his fears wrecked her own heart a little bit.
She realized there was nothing else she could say to make him change his mind, and because she was desperate to make him feel more than just pain, she lowered her head and kissed him. As soon as her mouth brushed across his, he groaned deep in his throat and his hand tangled in her hair, tight and urgent, as he crushed his lips against hers.
They parted beneath the onslaught of his silent demand, and she gave herself openly and generously, and he took greedily, the sweep of his tongue claiming every inch of her mouth. She tasted his raw, vulnerable emotion, his grief, his sorrow . . . which gradually gave way to heat, desire, and the bright burn of passion.
With a low, possessive growl, he rolled her beneath him on the blanket, so his firm body half covered hers and she felt the hard length of his erection digging against her hip. He nudged his knee between hers, and her legs spread shamelessly for him, while the hand still wrapped in her hair tugged on her scalp to tip her head back, giving him better, deeper access to her mouth. The urgency in him was wild and reckless, his lips unyielding against hers, as if imprinting the taste of her in his mind would obliterate everything else he’d just shared with her.
She curled her fingers into his shirt and let him have free rein, and when his other hand pushed beneath the hem of her dress and squeezed her upper thigh, there was no holding back the mewling sound of need that reverberated through her. His hot palm skimmed higher, his thumb brushing along the damp panel of cotton covering her sex, then gliding up to her clit. He pressed and rubbed her through the increasingly wetter fabric, making her ache so damn good. Her hips bucked of their own accord against the hand between her legs, trying to increase the pressure, the friction . . . anything to give her body the release it craved.
He continued kissing he
r as his fingers moved away, and she whimpered against his lips at the loss of his touch, pulled tighter on his shirt to draw him closer, but she didn’t have to worry, because seconds later he was sliding his hand into her panties, touching her skin on skin, his long fingers tunneling right into all the wetness he’d created, before two of them plunged deep into her core.
Shocked by the sudden, unexpected fullness, she tore her lips from his and gasped for breath, her entire body tensing, then quivering as the pads of those two fingers rubbed a spot that had her shaking and her clit pulsing. She buried her face in his neck, panting, so close to orgasming that it was embarrassing. She never came this fast.
He didn’t let her hide. He gently pulled her head back, a sinful, knowing smile seducing her even more. He looked into her eyes, his so dark and hungry, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized that she’d never had a man look at her like that before . . . with such undeniable want and unbridled lust.
“Let me watch you take your pleasure so I can forget everything else,” he murmured, pumping his fingers out, then back in again. His thumb joined in on the action, swirling around that hard, sensitive nub of flesh, teasing her.
She bit her bottom lip to hold in a blissful moan and caught a glimpse of the dark night sky studded with stars above Eric, reminding her exactly where they were. “Eric . . . we’re out in the open,” she reminded him.
“So?” he said in a low, sex-infused voice, undeterred by her concern, so much so that he continued to fuck her with his fingers, slowly, deeply. “I have my hand beneath your skirt, but we’re both fully clothed, so no indecent exposure happening here. Besides, nobody is around except the crickets and the owl.”
He lowered his head and swiped his tongue along her bottom lip, the same way his thumb danced across her needy clit. “Give me your orgasm, baby,” he ordered gruffly. “I want to feel you tighten and pulse against my fingers so I can imagine how you’d feel around my dick as I’m fucking you and making you come so hard that I’m the only thing you can think of as you bask in all that decadent pleasure.”
The Boyfriend Experience Page 10