by K. S. Thomas
“Lucas,” I plead. It’s not like me to beg, but here I am. Begging.
“Not yet,” he breathes, hot lips moving in on my neck again. His free hand dances over my skin, along with the water, teasing me while his tongue starts to swirl in circles, the sensation of both is enough to send every thought from my mind. I can’t think anymore. There’s no thinking. There’s only Lucas. And his mouth. Nipping and sucking at the crook of my neck, encouraging me to lean back, into him, giving him access to continue his journey down over my collar bone and back up. Over and over again, he works his way up and down my neck, along my jaw, kissing my chin, my cheek, my temple, back down to my earlobe and neck. Everywhere except my mouth. It’s all-consuming and at the same time entirely infuriating.
When his hand moves from my breast down between my thighs, I can’t take it any longer.
Torn between the pull of wanting to feel more of the euphoric sensations he’s conjuring inside me with just the use of his tongue and fingers, and the need to have more, to have it all, I squirm in his arms, intent on turning around to face him and yet unable to break away from the intensity already building within me to the point of near explosion.
“You play dirty,” I mutter incoherently, completely drunk on him.
“You made the rules,” he reminds me, his hot breath wreaking havoc against my throat. “You said no kissing. So, you’re not kissing.”
“I take it back,” I whisper, my body moving completely at his will now.
“If you insist.” And his mouth lands on mine, his tongue finding its way inside as his hand moves from my stomach up to my throat. He wraps his fingers around it gently, slowly turning me toward him until his fingers are twined in my hair. Then he starts all over again. This time there are no boundaries, no restrictions. There are no rules to his game and he proves it, finding his way down every inch of my body, leaving behind a lasting trail of mind-bending pleasure everywhere he touches. It’s not until I’m gasping for air and calling out his name for the whole damn world to hear, that I realize, I never did open my eyes.
Lucas
“Heartbreaker in the back?” I ask, passing Cherry at the desk.
“She had to step outside. She’ll be back in a few.”
I stop walking. “Outside where?”
“Just...outside.” She fumbles with her pen, unsure what to say. Or better yet, what not to say. “Did she know you were coming by?”
Feeling my fists clench at my sides I start moving again. “Yeah. She knows.”
I don’t slow down for the daily intimidation from Mouth. I don’t smile at Princess, who in turn skips ogling me like I’m a new ice cream flavor she’s been dying to try. I don’t even stop to say hi to Sketch, even when she calls out for me. I don’t stop. I don’t slow down. Not when I reach the back door. Not even when I hit it so hard it slams back into the outside wall. Not until I see her. See him.
“Marcus.”
“Shit.” Liv’s face fills with something I’m not used to seeing there. Fear. “Lucas, go back inside. Please.”
“Lucas? As in Lucas McNealy?” Marcus laughs. What in the hell he finds so fucking funny I don’t know, but I’m sure he’ll shut up real fast if Liv leaves me alone with him for a minute or two.
“Been a long time since we saw each other last. I’d ask how you’ve been doing, except I don’t give a shit.” I take my stand beside her. If I had my way, I’d be between them, shielding her. But I know her. She’ll never let me protect her from something she believes she can handle on her own, and Marcus qualifies as her problem, at least in her mind.
He clicks his tongue at me. “Now is that any way to talk to an old friend? We’re practically family. Really, Lucas. Mommy and daddy would be so disappointed.”
“Stop it, Marcus,” Liv snaps. “I mean it. Leave him out of this.”
“No, don’t. Whatever this is. I’m in it.” I take another step forward. I’d like nothing better than to grab two fistfuls of his designer shirt and drag him off the property by it. Straight into traffic.
“No, you’re not.” Liv’s facing me full on now, her back to her brother – a bad idea on any given day, especially bad when he’s standing there ready to pounce. “I know you think you’re helping, but you’re not. I’ve got this under control. I swear.”
“Well, well. Guess I don’t have to ask you what you’re doing these days, Lucas. It’s clearly my sister.”
Her hands land on my chest the same time I start to lunge forward. She stops me. “Please.” The fear in her eyes is growing and I know the only way to snuff it out is to do what she’s asking, no matter how much I hate it.
“Finish this. Fast,” I force out under my breath. “Or I’ll be back out here to finish it my way.”
“Three minutes. That’s all I need.” She does her best to smile, but it’s not remotely believable. Then she turns away from me to take on her brother again, and I have no choice but to walk away. Go back inside.
I sit here on the other side of the back door for what feels like a hell of a lot longer than three minutes. This time, none of the girls try to talk to me. No one even looks at me. I just sit here, on some old busted chair missing the panels on the backrest. I’m not sure if it’s on its way to the dumpster or waiting for repairs. I sit here and stare at the door, willing it to open. To see her walk in so I can breathe again. I hate this. I hate Marcus. Most of all I hate knowing what he’s capable of taking from me, and he wouldn’t need three minutes to do it.
Finally, it swings open, nearly taking me out in the process. I shouldn’t have moved that chair so close to the door.
“What the hell was that about?” I demand, because being pissed is way safer than letting her see how fucking terrified I was two seconds ago.
“Business,” she says curtly, moving past me.
I catch her elbow before she gets away. “What kind of business?”
“I’m not going to tell you, so just drop it.”
“That’s not gonna cut it, Liv. What does he want? What is he even doing here?” Pissed is fading fast and fear is creeping in again. I can hear it in my own fucking voice.
“I’m not telling you!” She gets louder, yanking her arm from my grip, but she’s not walking away this time.
“Why the hell not?”
“Because I don’t want you anywhere near this. It’s bad enough that I have to deal with him and his bullshit. I’m not going to let you get wrapped up in any of it.” She pauses, taking several long breaths, and I realize for the first time since she walked in that her chest is covered in hives. It’s hard to tell through the ink, but now that I see it its undeniable. “Maybe this was a mistake.”
I’m shaking my head before I even get the words out. “No, Goddammit. Don’t you do that. Don’t you fucking use Marcus as an excuse. You want out, you say it. To my face, straight forward. You don’t break out your stupid list of reasons and add to it with another bullshit one.”
“It’s not bullshit. You know Marcus. I can’t fucking help that I’m related to him any more than I can help that our father left him half of this place. All I can do, is try and make sure that no one else is hurt by him, and that includes you.” Her bottom lip rolls inward as her teeth begin to work it over.
I take a step closer to her, placing my hands carefully onto her waist. I half expect her to shake them off, but she doesn’t. “This wasn’t a mistake,” I whisper so only she can hear. I can only imagine the show we’ve put on for everyone behind us. “I’ll stay away from Marcus.”
“Promise?”
“No.” I can’t. I want to, but I can’t. “I’ll try though. That’s the best I can do.”
“Fair enough.”
I glance past her at the back door. “He still out there?”
“No. Drove off as I was coming back inside.”
“Good.” My hands still on her waist, I guide her straight for the doorway and return to the parking lot with her.
“What are we doing out here?
” She glares at me impatiently as I take the time to make sure we’re really alone and the door is sealed shut behind us.
“This.” My lips land on hers just as she opens them to argue with me more. In a matter of seconds her body turns to putty in my hands, her weight falling into my chest, her arms draping up around my neck and the whole of her wrapped up safely in my arms. In this moment, I know she’s the one. The only one. Because there’s no one else I want to hold as tight. No one else I want to kiss as long. And no one else who makes my heart ache as if it’s about to explode from the sheer sensation of feeling so damn much.
Chapter Thirteen
Heartbreaker
“Do you want to talk about this now, or later?” Sketch and Mouth are both standing less than three feet from me. Ignoring them will be a challenge. Not impossible, but it will definitely require a great amount of effort. I’m not sure it’s worth it.
“I never want to talk about Marcus.” Playing dumb has to be tried. It’s a given. They expect it and I need to feel like I at least tried to put up a fight before rolling over like a wuss.
“Oh, neither do we. That’s why we’re here to talk about Lucas.” Mouth marches straight into my station and spreads out in the chair usually reserved for people who have a date with my needle. She probably shouldn’t tempt me like that.
“He seemed awfully upset after the three of you had your little meet and greet out back. What, the family reunion didn’t go so well?” Sketch meanders in as well, taking a less invasive position leaning against the wall. Of course, she’s staying upright for a reason: so she can stare me down from up there.
“What is it going to take, Huh? Just tell me what you want to hear and I’ll say it so we can all get back to work and pretend this is a real business that needs to make real money and shit to stay open.”
“We want to hear if you’re still craving guacamole or if you finally got your fix.” Mouth wiggles her eyebrows, grinning widely.
“But I don’t want to hear it in avocado code. Just spit it out. Did you cave? Did you do the nasty with Pru’s kid?”
I wince. “Why are you being mean to me?”
Sketch claps her hands together triumphantly. “Ha! I knew you would.”
“You knew nothing!” I inform her proudly. “I did not have sex with him!” It’s a technicality at this point, but one I’m prepared to ride out as long as Sketch is insisting on calling him Pru’s kid.
“Not even a little?” Mouth prods.
“How can you have a little sex with someone?” Sketch inquires, but it’s more for the sake of prolonging this torture than actual interest.
“You know...if he only puts it in a little...” Mouth shrugs, clearly not having thought this through.
“Nobody put anything anywhere,” I declare boldly. Now I really am lying.
“Uh-huh.” Sketch folds her arms, letting me know she’s settling in and getting comfortable. “If that were even remotely true you wouldn’t have a hickey the size of Texas right above your collar bone, smack in the center of your tat. Don’t think I can’t tell. I drew that piece up myself. I know it’s not supposed to have a purple splotch right there in the middle of it.”
I tug at my tank top as if I have any hope of covering up the patch of skin she’s talking about. I didn’t even think to look for evidence Lucas’s thorough mouth work might have left behind after our shower this morning.
“Fine. Some things were put some places,” I concede shamefully.
“And?” Mouth’s eyes look like they may bulge out at me at any second. I’m tempted to tap them to see them pop back into place.
“And...we’re not friends.”
“Huh?” It’s the first time since this conversation started that Sketch actually appears surprised. Dumbfounded even. I like it.
“Look, I don’t know what we are exactly, I just know we’re not friends. At least, that’s what he announced last night shortly after he ambushed me at my front door and crammed his tongue down my throat.” I’m grinning. God, why does thinking of him make me do that?!
“That’s great. Now how long before you’re not idiots anymore either?” Sketch cocks her brow, enabling her to appear to be glaring down at me from even higher up.
“I resent that.”
“You would.” Mouth laughs. “I’m with Sketch. What’s the hold up? Why stop at not friends?”
I roll back on my chair. It’s not intentional. A reflex motion from my legs, caused by exasperation, sent me backwards.
“Do you two hear yourselves when you talk? Or do you get to tune out the garbage that comes out of your mouths? Because I don’t. I get to hear you say things like doing the nasty with Pru’s kid. Or if I got my guacamole fix. And that’s when all I’ve done is fool around a little with a guy. Can we all just take a moment to appreciate the hell you’d put me through if I announced I was serious about him? And let’s not forget his parents in all of this.”
“Are you?” Sketch is uncharacteristically sincere in her question.
“Am I what?”
“Serious about him.”
I spin around to face my desk. “No.”
“God, you suck at lying.” Mouth slides out of her seat to stand beside Sketch who’s just about to have another go at me as well.
“For your information, we actually like it when you’re happy, so stop using us as one of your bullshit reasons to keep Lucas at bay when you’re so obviously into him.”
I drop my face to my desk until my forehead touches the wood. I feel like an idiot. A pathetic idiot. A scared, pathetic idiot.
“He just has this way of making me count on him,” I mutter quietly into the smooth surface right below my mouth.
“Yeah. It’s called showing up. He’s good at that. Has been for a while if I recall correctly.”
My father’s funeral for starters. I remember too.
“Girl, you deserve this. And if us giving you shit is making you hesitate to jump in with both feet and arms wide open, then I’m going to shut up from this moment forward.”
It’s a statement so ridiculous, I have no choice but to snap out of my wallowing mode to stare up at her in disbelief.
“Right. You shutting up is real likely,” Sketch says dryly, rolling her eyes at Mouth. “Come on, I can hear Cherry talking to people up front. Time to do something along the lines of work today.”
She tugs Mouth by the arm and they both abandon my station and me in it. I should feel relieved that the interrogation is over, but I don’t. Mostly, I just feel foul and cowardly. And like I need to see Lucas. But that’ll have to wait because one of the voices I can hear moving through the shop now belongs to Brit, a longtime friend and customer and more importantly, my one o’clock appointment.
Lucas
“Where’ve you been?” my mother greets me from the kitchen sink. She’s got her back to me, but that’s never stopped her from knowing exactly which one of us was passing through.
“Went to see a friend.” I stop at the center island. I know my mother. ‘Where have you been?’ isn’t just a casual question. It’s an opening line to a longwinded interrogation. If I play nice from the start, maybe I can shave a few unnecessary questions from the list. Like the ones I’m not ready to answer just yet.
“I noticed you didn’t come home last night.” And here we go.
“Diving right in, I see.” I smile at her. My mother’s the only woman my charm has ever worked on. I assume it relates to my dad somehow, but I prefer not to break it down beyond that.
She dries her hands on a towel and comes to stand across from me. “It’s my right as your mother to be as intrusive as I please.”
“Oh, believe me, that much I know.”
“So...who is she? Someone you knew back in high school?” She seems downright giddy at the prospect of a girl. Not exactly the reaction I was expecting, but then I know a little something she doesn’t.
“Uh, yeah, I knew her when I was still in school.”
&nbs
p; She nods, glancing down at the counter and trying to hide her satisfaction. “Do I know her?”
“Yep.” This is not going well. I can tell by how happy she’s getting. My plan to be vague without lying has definitely backfired.
“It’s Darcy, isn’t it?” She claps her hands together several times in all the excitement. “I saw you two talking at the barbecue. I just knew you two would wind up together again in the end.”
“Darcy?” Who in the hell is Darcy? “When was I ever together with Darcy?”
“What do you mean? You two dated in high school.” Her gleeful dancing has stopped and the delighted expression previously plastered all over her face is quickly fading.
“I never dated a girl named Darcy. Honestly, I don’t even know who you’re talking about.”
Now she seems outright shocked. “Of course you dated a Darcy. Darcy Winters. Frank and Suzanne’s daughter.”
“D.W.?” I laugh. “That’s who you thought I dated in high school?!”
“Isn’t it?”
“No!”
She looks around helplessly confused. “Then what was she doing over at the house all the time?”
“Making out with my buddy Travis, mostly. Her parents hated him. That’s why they always met here.” I guess looking back, I can see why she assumed the only girl hanging out with me and my guy friends every day after school was there to see me, but nothing could have been farther from the truth.
“Oh.” Then she scowls. “You made me that mother?”
“I’m sorry?”
“That mother – the one who let all the horny teenagers hide out at her place.”
“Two horny teenagers, Ma. The rest of us all went over to Derek’s house. Both his parents worked full time.” I’m doing my absolute best to lighten the situation up a bit, but as uncomfortable as it is, I’d so much rather be talking about this than Heartbreaker.