by Chloe Walsh
"No can do," he called back, yanking on the – thankfully – locked door handle. "I've cracked another piece of the code."
"I don’t care about your damn codes." Shaking my head, I rolled onto my back and covered my face with my hands. "I'm tryna die in peace here."
"Self-inflicted, and I'm not going away." Bang, bang, bang. "So, you might as well open up." Bang, bang, bang. "I can sing if that will get you moving quicker." Bang, bang, bang. "Old McDonald had a –"
"Alright!" I roared, kicking at the door. "Just shut the hell up." Slowly dragging myself into a sitting position, I scrubbed a hand over my face before unlocking the truck. "Damn."
"Good morning, sunshine." Pres grinned, taking a safe step back when I staggered out. "Wow, don’t you look like a fresh heap of shit."
"Trust me, I feel like a fresh heap of shit," I yawned, stretching my arms over my head.
"Yeah, and you smell like one, too," he offered, clapping me on the shoulder. "Now, let's go." He nudged me towards the motel room. "You need to shower and clean yourself up because what I'm about to tell you requires sober and somewhat rational thinking Sketch."
"Hold your damn horses," I growled, shaking off his hand. "You have some explaining to do."
"Yes, yes, and I'll do that later –"
"You'll do it now," I snapped, folding my arms across my chest. "Did you find the journal?"
"No," he grumbled. "It was a complete fucking bust and then my mom caught me grabbing supplies from my room and wouldn’t let me out of her sight. She thinks there's a freaking kidnapper lurking. It took me three damn days to convince her to let me go."
"Come again?"
"I know, right?" He rolled his eyes. "She thinks you and Romi were snatched."
"So, where does she think you are now?"
"I told her that I forgot one of my enrollment applications and had to drop it back to the university." He grinned. "She swallowed it."
"Your mom's gullible as fuck."
"That she is," he agreed. "Lucky for me."
"And the stunt you pulled with the reporter?" I demanded then, bristling at the memory. "I really appreciated being thrown under the bus, Quinton."
"I didn’t throw you under any damn bus," he said with a dramatic sigh. "In fact, I probably saved your lives."
"By telling the world that I abducted Romi?"
"By telling the world that you ran away together because you're desperately in love and can't bear to be apart," he countered. "Ever read The Hunger Games? It worked for Katniss and Peeta."
"Are you…" I shook my head and gaped at him. "We're not a movie, Presley!"
"Ugh, I was referring to the book, Holden."
"Whatever, you weirdo."
"Look, let's just go back inside and talk," he coaxed, placing his hands on my shoulders and pushing me along. "I really think I'm onto something."
"I don’t care anymore, Quinton. I really don’t. I need food. That's all I want. I can't function until I eat," I mumbled, allowing him to usher me back to the room. "Bacon. Toast. Eggs –"
"Sausage?"
"Not nearly drunk enough, dude."
Chuckling, he unlocked the door and shoved me inside. "Romi?" he called out, closing and then locking the door behind him. "You still in the shower, girl? Because I've got a hungover jock that I need to hose down."
"You wish," I snorted.
He winked. "Every day."
"Wait –" I snapped my head up to glare at him. "You left her alone?"
"For like five minutes. Chill."
"We don’t leave her alone for any damn minutes," I whisper-hissed, anxiety gnawing at my gut, the memory of Romi flinging herself out of that treehouse the culprit. "We talked about this."
"Romi?" Presley called out, sounding worried now. "Are you okay?"
"Um, kinda," she called back from inside the bathroom and we both sagged in relief. "Well, to tell you the truth, I'm actually sort of, uh, stuck."
"What do you mean you're stuck?" I demanded, feet moving for the bathroom before my brain had a chance to catch up with the rest of me. "Are you hurt?"
"Is that Sketch?" She sounded panicked. "Oh my god, Pres, don’t let him come in here!"
"Hold your horses, lover boy." Stepping in front of me, he held his hands up and grinned. "I can take it from here."
Growling, I watched him disappear inside the bathroom.
"Oh wow, I've never seen a vagina in the flesh before. Gotta say, it's not nearly as traumatizing as I expected."
"Oh my god, Pres, I'm not a science project. Stop inspecting it." Romi laughed, and it was weird as fuck to hear her do that. I hadn't heard that sound in a very long time. "Just help me out – ah, see, I'm totally wedged in here."
"Nice rack, Romi," Pres said, grunting and panting. "Damn, girl, where've you been hiding these? Maybe it's my all-round appreciation for the natural nourishment they provide, but I gotta say, in another lifetime, I think I could have been a breast man –"
"What the hell? Stop looking at her, asshole," I snapped, storming into the bathroom, only to freeze on the spot when my eyes landed on the scene in front of me.
With a transparent shower curtain torn from its pegs and draped around her, Romi was sprawled sideways in the tub, with her injured leg dangling over the side of the tub and the other jammed solid beneath her.
Meanwhile, Presley was standing behind her in the tub with his jeans rolled up to the knees, soaked to the skin from the water still spraying down on them both, as he tried and failed to hoist her up.
"You know, I'm really not equipped for this," he declared, sounding breathless, as he failed once more to pull her out. "I think my brain serves as a far stronger weapon than my biceps."
"Clearly," I said calmly, though how, I'd never know considering my heart was gunning in my chest. "Get out of the way, you douche."
"Oh my god," Romi whimpered, dropping her head in her hands when I approached. "Let me die."
"Not today, Ro." Switching off the water, I grabbed a towel off the rack and tossed it at a drenched Presley.
"I'll just, uh…" He pointed to the door before jumping out of the tub and hurrying away. "Be right back."
"Hook your arms around my neck and I'll lift you out," I instructed, ignoring the pounding in my chest when I reached into the tub and hooked my hands under her arms. Freeing her leg, I pulled her up. Damn, Presley needed to work on his upper body strength. This girl was as light as a bag of flour. "Come on, Ro, hold onto me."
"I'd rather not, Sketch," she groaned, face still firmly buried in her hands as she leaned heavily against my chest, balancing on one foot. "Jesus."
"Oh, you wanna stay in there for the day?" I arched a brow, keeping an arm around her. "Is that it?"
"Ugh." She blew out a breath. "No, no, you're right. I'm being dumb." Keeping her face buried against my chest, she gingerly wrapped her arms around my neck. "Just, uh, please don’t look."
"Yeah, Ro." Sliding a hand between our bodies, I tossed the curtain into the tub before lifting her into my arms. "Whatever you say." Snagging a towel off the rack, I tossed it down on the closed lid of the toilet before carefully lowering her down. "You good?" I asked, keeping my eyes on her face the entire time.
"Yep," came her high-pitched response as she hunched forward in a bid to protect her modesty – modesty I'd seen about as many times as I'd seen my own damn modesty.
"Here –" Giving her my back, I reached for another towel and held it out for her.
"Thanks." She took the towel from me and I gave her a minute to cover up, while I took a moment to compose myself.
"No problem." Clenching and then unclenching my fists, I tried to shake out the tremor in my hands while I fought against the hard-on in my jeans.
Wrong time.
Wrong place.
Wrong fucking girl…
"It's okay now," Romi said quietly. "I'm decent."
Blowing out a breath, I masked my emotions and turned to see her wrapped up in a flu
ffy, white towel. "That was dangerous," I said. "You have a sprained ankle and a banged-up knee. You're bruised. You're barely patched up. You could've broken your damn neck in here and a great help that douchebag would have been to help you out."
She sighed. "Yeah."
"Don’t do that again, okay? Not when I'm not around. It's not safe." Shoving my hands into my pockets, I leaned against the opposite wall and studied her flushed complexion and the droplets of water that fell from her hair to her bare shoulders. Jesus. Jaw ticking, I quickly dragged my gaze back to hers.
Whiskey colored eyes greeted me. "Where were you last night?"
I blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Last night," she repeated, cheeks turning pink. "Where'd you go?"
"To a bar."
"And afterwards?"
"I slept in my truck."
"Why?"
I debated lying before deciding against it. I wasn’t much of a liar anyway. "I didn’t want to be in here."
"Because of our fight? Because of what was said? Or because I'm in here?"
"Because of a lot of things, Romi."
"And you got drunk?"
"I did."
"And that's it?"
"That's it."
"Are you sure?"
I cocked a brow. "Why are you questioning me like we're still in a relationship?"
Her cheeks reddened but she didn’t back down. "Why are you answering my questioning like we're still in a relationship?"
I shrugged. "I guess old habits die hard."
"I guess," she replied and then blew out a pained breath. "I miss the old you."
"Yeah, and I miss the old you."
Her eyes widened. "You do?"
I nodded. "Of course. Spent eleven years with the old you."
Sadness enveloped her features. "We had some good times, huh?"
My throat felt like sawdust, but I forced myself to swallow. "Yes."
"It hurts," she whispered. "Seeing you like this. So cold. So…closed off."
"Need help with anything else?" I asked, quickly veering the conversation back to safer waters. I didn’t want to fight with her. I didn’t want to be responsible for putting that sad look in her eyes, the one that made me want to kick my own ass, but I couldn't pretend everything was fine when it wasn't.
Looking around aimlessly, I located her boot and quickly snatched it up. "Here, let me help with this." Kneeling on the floor before she had a chance to say anything else, I carefully placed her foot back inside. "That feel okay?"
"Yeah," she replied, watching as I adjusted her boot until it was strapped back on. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." Keeping my head bowed, I debated what to do next before deciding that I needed to move.
She took that option away from me when she cupped my face in her small hands, causing my body to ignite in a sick form of pained pleasure. It was too much. She was too fucking much for me.
"Don't," she said, tugging my face up and forcing me to look at her. "Don’t run." She trailed her thumbs over my cheekbones, causing a shiver to rack through my body. "Just…stay and finish this with me."
I closed my eyes. "Romi, you need to not –"
"Look at me, Sketch."
I shook my head. "I need to –"
"Look. At. Me."
Reluctantly, I did, and it hurt just like it always did. Wide eyes. Long, thick, dark lashes. Perfect eyebrows. Puffy, swollen lips. A cute button nose with a light sprinkling of freckles. High cheekbones and a tiny dimple in her chin. The dull ache in my chest that I carried with me these past two years grew and intensified.
Throughout a span of almost thirteen years, I'd watched her face morph and transform from a little girl to a woman; from toothless smiles, to braces, to a perfect white smile, from chubby cheeks to high, sculpted cheekbones. I'd witnessed it all, every stage of her face, and it hurt. Because hers was the only face I ever wanted to look at. Because her face broke my fucking heart.
"I didn’t get a chance to say it last night, but I'm sorry, too." She snaked around to grip the back of my neck. "For hurting you," she breathed, her eyes snaring me one blink at a time. "For lying to you." Leaning down, she stroked my nose with hers, nuzzling me tenderly. "For pretending to be your brother's when I've only ever been yours."
"Don’t." Exhaling brokenly, I rested my forehead against hers and clenched my eyes shut, absorbing this moment, taking it all in. "I can't do this." I reached up to loosen her hold on my face, desperate to break the connection, but only ended up tightening it instead. I was drowning in my feelings. In the past. In my pain.
"You broke up with me and I was completely heartbroken," she continued, her voice a breathy whisper. Her hand was still on my face, thumb tracing my cheek, while she knotted her other hand in my hair. "I didn’t know about what my father did to you and I was so hurt, Sketch. So freaking devastated. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t stop crying. For two months, that's all I did. Rinse, repeat. I couldn't get past it. So, when Chris asked me out, I said yes."
I flinched and tried to turn my head, but she forced me to stay right there, on my knees at her mercy.
"I said yes to hurt you," she hurried on, breathing hard. "Because I wanted to make you wake up and realize that you'd made a mistake. Because I wanted to break your heart like you had broken mine."
"Yeah," I replied, forcing myself to open my eyes and look at her, to take in the sight of her. "Well, mission accomplished."
"I thought you quit on me," she strangled out, sounding pained. "I didn’t know you were trying to protect me. I didn’t know about your deal with my dad."
"Anyone but him, Ro," I bit out, heart hammering in my chest. "I knew you'd move on, okay? I accepted it, and I would've sucked it up because I fucking loved you and I wanted you to be happy – with or without me. It killed me to see you in pain. But my brother?" I blew out a pained breath. "You could have had any other guy on the planet and I would've coped, but you chose Chris?"
"I know, I know," she sobbed, clutching me tightly. "And I'm so sorry."
"Don't cry," I groaned, fucking crippled by the tears streaming down her cheeks. That only made her cry harder. Clawing the back of my head with both hands, she pressed her brow to mine as her small frame racked with sobs. "Hey, hey –" Reaching up, I cupped her face, feeling the dampness from her cheeks seep onto my palms. "Shh, just stop. It's okay. We both fucked up. Don’t cry, Ro, it's on me, too."
She exhaled a hiccupping sob, and then her breath hitched in throat. "Sketch." Her small hands roamed over my face, fingers tracing my eyebrows, my cheeks, my lips, my jaw, her haunted eyes tracking every tender caress. "Sketch…"
Because I could read Romi better than anyone, I knew the exact moment she made her decision, and instead of stopping it like I knew I should, I stayed exactly where I was, a lamb to the slaughter. When she leaned in and pressed her lips to mine, time stood still. Everything stopped working. My heart. My thought process. My fucking resolve.
Too stunned to do anything but remain on my knees at her feet, I didn’t move a muscle, I didn’t even kiss her back when she tugged on my bottom lip, sucking it into her mouth and then releasing it with a pop.
With her hands in my hair, she pulled me between her parted legs, annihilating every one of my walls with her lips. Tracing her tongue over my bottom lip, she kissed me again, slow and sensual, causing my heart to explode in my chest and my dick to harden to the point of pain.
Two years of pain, anger, hate, lust, heartache, and fucking longing burst to the surface and I gave in. Losing my goddamn mind, I crushed my mouth against hers.
Lips parted, she snaked her tongue into my mouth, kissing me back just as frantically, tongue dueling with mine, while her hands roamed down my neck and shoulders to my chest before finally settling on the hem of my t-shirt.
Pulling up on my knees, I hooked an arm around her back to roughly drag her body against mine. I kissed her hard and deep, swallowing her soft cries when she moaned into
my mouth.
Pushing my shirt up my chest, her fingernails dug into my bare flesh, causing my stomach muscles to contract and a growl to tear from deep within me. Not stopping, she continued to attack me with her lips while she dragged my shirt up.
Breathing hard and uneven, I broke our kiss and reached over my shoulder to tug my shirt off. The moment the fabric was gone, Romi was back on me, lips on lips, chest to chest, as she reeled me deeper into the danger zone.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I was making a terrible fucking mistake, but I couldn’t concentrate on anything other than the feel of her hands on my body, the taste of her lips on mine, and the smell of her filling my senses.
Drunk off desire, I reached a hand between us and loosened the towel separating our bodies from the desperate need I had to be skin on skin with her.
Romi didn’t hesitate, not for a second. Yanking on the towel, she quickly ripped it free and rubbed her bare tits against my chest. "Fuck, what are we doing?" I panted against her lips, heart gunning wildly in my chest. "We shouldn’t be doing –"
"Shh!" Her tongue invaded my mouth once more and her fingers moved to my belt buckle as I knelt between her spread thighs. Struck fucking dumb, I allowed her to unzip my jeans and slide her hand into my boxers. My eyes rolled into the back of my head when she palmed my aching dick.
"Shh," she breathed, brow pressed to mine, those whiskey-brown eyes scorching me, as she reached up and stroked my cheek with one hand, while slowly working my shaft with the other.
Trembling, I clamped my hands on her hips and exhaled a ragged breath, feeling more emotions and sensations than I knew how to handle. My knees were shaking, every nerve-ending in my body on high alert. She was making me vulnerable and I hated it. I fucking hated how much power she had over me. I hated how complete I felt when I was with her and how void and empty I felt when I wasn't.
Jaw clenched, I tried and failed to find the composure I needed to walk away. A deep, guttural groan escaped me and I dropped my head on her shoulder, hips thrusting into her touch, unable to resist the glorious fucking sensations she evoked from my body when she had her hands on me.