I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here when Sebastian pounds on the door. “Evan,” he shouts. I don’t answer. Less than a minute later, the door swings open and my head snaps up to see Sebastian standing there in only his boxers, concern painting his features. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat when he sees me.
“What are you doing?”
“You didn’t answer me.” He walks toward me, and I hug my knees tighter, my toes curling into the textured floor of the tub. Standing at the edge of the tub, we lock eyes, neither of us speaking. After a minute, he steps into the shower with me, not bothering to take his boxers off.
I stand, ready to step out, but he grabs my wrist. “Tell me you believe me.”
“I don’t.”
“You’re a liar,” he accuses. “I can see it in your eyes. You believe me, but you’re scared.”
“Scared of what?” I snap.
“Trusting me. But you wouldn’t be here if you thought for one second that I was there that night.”
“You’re capable of it,” I argue.
“Capable of it? Sure. I’ve done worse.” He shrugs. “But the fact of the matter is I didn’t.” He pulls my body flush against his, his arm wrapping around my waist. “Now let me inside you,” he says, his voice thick as he presses his nose into my hair.
I feel my clit pulse at his words. He’s right. About believing him and about being afraid. Afraid to trust him. Afraid to fall for him. Afraid to lose him. The arm that’s around me dips low, cupping my ass and squeezing before slipping between my legs. “Tell me you want me.”
A moan slips out, and I sag into him as he slides a finger through my lower lips. “No.”
“Tell me.”
My eyes fall closed as he circles my clit lightly, teasingly, not giving me the pressure I need. I feel his cock harden between us through his boxers, and I push into his hand, wanting more.
“Say it.”
“I want you,” I say through clenched teeth. I hate him for making me say it aloud, but I hate the thought of not getting off even more. His finger slips through my wetness, smearing it back farther to my tighter hole.
“You want me, where?” he asks, pushing past the tight rim. I suck in a breath, my body tensing up. “You’ll have to be more specific next time.” Then he’s dropping to his knees, his face diving between my legs. His tongue spreads me, lapping at my clit, and it’s all I can do to stay upright.
“Put your foot on the ledge,” he commands. I do as he says, and then he’s sliding his middle finger in and out as he licks me, the sensations almost too intense.
“Fuck,” I whine, gripping the shower curtain for support. “Please, Sebastian.”
“Please, what?”
“Please fuck me. Make me feel.”
He stands abruptly, shoving his boxers down around his thighs before picking me up and slamming me into the wall. He fills me in one motion, causing me to cry out. He fucks into me roughly, punishingly, and I take everything he’s giving me.
“Can you feel me now?” he grits out before dipping his head to take my nipple between his teeth.
“Yes,” I breathe, teetering on the edge as he fucks me brutally. Suddenly, the water turns to ice, and my teeth start to chatter. Sebastian hoists me up, my legs locking around him before he turns the water off and walks out of the bathroom. He walks us over to the bed, the room noticeably warmer with the heater on. I look over to see all my clothes laid across the top, none of them being even close to dry.
Sebastian tosses me onto the bed and I land with my legs splayed open. Grabbing my ankle, he flips me over onto my stomach, then pulls my ass up where he wants me. My knees are spread, pressed against the quilt, everything on display for him. Two hands land on my shoulder blades, smoothing down my back, then the curves of my waist, down my ass. Then his fingers are pushing inside me, twisting and pumping. I drop my head between my shoulders, pressing back into him.
“Tell me you know I didn’t do it,” he says. When I don’t respond, he pulls his fingers from me, eliciting a whimper of protest. But then he’s back, pressing against the tight ring of my ass. I gasp, jerking forward, but his other hand grips where my thigh meets my hip, holding me in place.
“Tell me,” he says, slowly working a finger in and out.
“Sebastian,” I breathe, dropping my chest into the mattress, the side of my cheek mashed against the quilt. He starts to move faster, my tense body gradually loosening as I get used to the sensation.
“Say it,” he snaps, slapping my pussy. I jump, not expecting the sting.
“I know you didn’t do it,” I shout, and then he’s lining himself up behind me, shoving inside. “Oh God,” I say, lurching forward. This angle makes everything deeper, more intense. “It’s too much.”
“Never enough,” he argues, both hands clamping down on my ass, pulling me back as he fucks into me. “Why is it never enough with you?” His voice is desperate, almost angry.
I feel the familiar tightening, the heat unfurling low in my stomach that tells me I’m going to come. His hand moves from the side of my ass to my lower back, and then his thumb is circling the ring of my ass before pushing inside again. “You’re so fucking perfect,” he says, voice strained as his hips and thumb work in tandem, sending me over the edge.
“Sebastian!” I break apart, feeling myself clench and release around him, and he growls at the feeling. I collapse against the bed and his body flattens against my back, hands coming to fold over the tops of mine as he lazily pumps his hips.
When I finally come back down to Earth, he rolls my sated, boneless body over, sliding in between my thighs, filling me again. One hand on my hip and one grips my jaw as he slips in and out of me. “Look at your cum all over my cock,” he says, looking between our still-damp bodies, and then he’s fusing his mouth to mine, kissing me deep and hard and full of intensity. I come again unexpectedly. He curses, pulling from my body, kneeling on the mattress and fisting his length as his cum spills onto my stomach.
He stands, walking toward the bathroom, and I absentmindedly swirl my finger through the mess he left on my stomach. A second later, he appears with a towel, heated eyes staring down at me. He cleans me up, rubbing the towel across my belly and in between my thighs. Tossing it to the floor, he climbs in bed next to me. He sprawls out on his back before tugging me into his side and pulling on my knee until I have one leg over his stomach.
We lie in silence, content just to be next to each other like this again. Except this time is even better, because we’re alone, in an actual bed, without the threat of someone walking in on us at any moment. Finally, I ask the question that’s been plaguing my mind.
“If it wasn’t you, then who was it?”
“I know exactly who it is,” he replies, his voice thick with sleepiness.
“Tell me.”
“It has to be Elliot.”
My eyes widen. I’d almost forgotten Elliot was even there that night. I search my brain, trying to remember the details. “Oh my God,” I say, when it comes to me. “You’re right. My purse spilled out. You told him to leave, but he must have grabbed my room key first.”
He nods, like he came to the same conclusion, his hand rubbing up and down my thigh.
“But why?” Just because we were an easy target and had money? I’d never expect that from him.
He shrugs. “I don’t know, but I’ll find out. I promise.”
I shift my body to lie on top of him, looking down at his beautiful face, that stubbled jaw, and the scar beneath his lip. “I believe you.” Then I kiss his scar before trailing my mouth up to his. He licks at the seam of my lips, and I open for him. Squeezing my ass, he angles his hips just right to slip inside me once again.
“It’s about fucking time.”
I sense his absence before I’m even fully awake. I smooth my hand across the mattress without opening my eyes to confirm my suspicions before stretching, my body sore and stiff from last night. God, it’s never been l
ike that, and I can’t wait to do it again. I blink one eye open, checking the time on the alarm clock on the bedside table, but something else catches my eye. I sit up, my eyebrows pulling together as I pluck it off the nightstand, turning it in my hands. Underneath it is a note that reads:
For you. Taking care of the truck. Don’t go anywhere. -Seb.
A music box.
Except this one isn’t like the one from Anastasia. This one is a carousel, complete with tiny horses. Turning it over, I find the little silver winder and twist. The pretty tune fills the room, and I cover my mouth with my hand, my heart splintering wide open at the sentiment.
AFTER HAVING THE TRUCK TOWED to the nearest auto shop, I went to ask the front desk lady—turns out her name is Lou—if they had some kind of cab service or preferred list of local companies. She laughed me off and told me Earl would be my chauffeur. I folded myself into his Oldsmobile and thanked him when he dropped me off. An hour later and two hundred bucks later, I’m on my way back to the motel.
I squeeze the steering wheel, hating myself for what I’m doing with Evan. I know this will end badly. The beautiful and the damned. That’s what we are. Every day that I get closer to my expiration date, I find myself on edge. Agitated. Nervous. Angry. Wondering how it’s going to happen. When it’s going to happen. And how Evan is going to feel about it. Bitterness is a new feeling for me. I find myself full of resentment, hating anyone with a future.
Every summer comes to an end. Does that mean we shouldn’t enjoy the sun?
Valeen’s words echo in my mind. But what happens when the summer ends, and Evan’s left alone with the fallout? It’s not fair to her. Even still, I can’t bring myself to regret it. I woke up early this morning and watched her sleep for a good hour, her blonde hair spilling over the white pillow case, the sheet pooled low on her hips as she lay facedown, one leg sticking out. I traced my fingers along the notches in her spine, trying to hatch some kind of a plan. Some way to make sure she’s set when I’m gone.
I dig my phone out of my back pocket and call Eros.
“’Sup, brother?” he answers.
“I need a favor,” I tell him.
“Shoot.”
“I need you to do some digging on Elliot. Check his truck to see if you can find any clues to who the fuck he is. If he goes anywhere, follow him.” I found Evan’s music box and the hotel key in his truck, but my search was cut short when Elliot returned and almost caught me. I know there’s more information to be found.
“What’s that squirrely little fucker up to now?”
“He’s the one who broke into Evan’s hotel room and robbed her parents.”
Eros mutters a curse, exhaling a loud breath. “Motherfucker. When will you guys get here?”
“Late. And don’t tell anyone else just yet. I don’t want to risk scaring him off before I get to him.”
“Ten-four.”
I hang up the phone, tossing it onto the seat next to me as I swing into the motel parking lot. Ignoring the designated spots, I park parallel to the walkway to fit the truck and the trailer. I kill the engine and walk toward room sixteen, pulling the copper key out of my front pocket. When I push the door open, Evan’s right there, still naked, looking up at me like I hung the moon.
She curls her little hand around the back of my neck, hopping up to wrap her legs around me. I catch her, holding her up with a hand on her ass.
“You greet everyone like this? What if I was housekeeping? Or Earl?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“Just my boyfriends,” she teases, but her smile falls when she sees the look on my face.
“I’m not your boyfriend, Evan. And you know why I can’t be.”
“No?” she challenges with fire in her eyes. “You fuck me. You get mad if I spend time with other men. You take care of me. You buy me things,” she says with a pointed look at the carousel music box on the nightstand. I know it’s not the same one her dad got for her, but I wanted to give her something to make up for it. Something that would remind her of us. “Sounds like boyfriend behavior to me.”
I walk toward the bed, setting her back onto the mattress, coming down on top of her. “I’ll make you a deal,” I say, unbuckling my jeans.
“What’s that?” she breathes, using her feet to push my pants down before her hands move around to squeeze my ass.
“I’ll be your boyfriend for as long as I can,” I say into her neck. As long as I’m alive, is what I don’t say, but she reads between the lines.
“Sebastian…” she says, her voice angry and guarded.
I cover her mouth with my palm, flexing my hips forward to fill her. “If you promise me to be happy.” Afterwards.
She nods, a single tear falling from the corner of her eye, rolling down her cheek.
I take my time with her, moving slowly, deeply, trying to tell her with my actions what I refuse to say out loud. She arches her back, her pussy milking me as she comes quietly. I lean down to suck on her nipple, pulling it between my teeth, causing her to shudder beneath me. I pull out, jerking myself over her pretty little body while she catches her breath, touching her breasts for my benefit. I hold a palm out to catch my cum, dropping my head back as I spill into my hand. When I look back down at Evan, she’s pouting.
“What’s that look for?” I ask, reaching over to grab a tissue from the box on the side table to wipe my palm, then pull my pants back up.
“That was mine,” she says with a pout, and I laugh, leaning down to kiss her before walking to the bathroom to wash my hands. I’m already breaking my rules by fucking her raw. There’s no way I’m going to risk coming inside her.
Three hours later, we’ve packed up, said our goodbyes to Lou and Earl—who insisted on loading us up with snacks and water bottles—stopped for lunch, and now we’re back on the road. When my phone rings and Eros’ name flashes across the screen, I answer it, hitting the speaker button.
“We’ve got a problem,” Eros says before I have a chance to say a word. Evan cuts her eyes at me, looking nervous.
“What?” I say, somehow knowing that after our last phone call, whatever he’s about to say is going to change everything.
“You were right about Elliot. He’s not who he says he is.”
“I fucking knew it,” I shout, hitting my fist against the steering wheel.
“I found his license. His real name is Isaac…” The name sounds familiar somehow. “Isaac McAllister.”
Evan gasps, blue eyes going wide. “He’s a McAllister?”
“Motherfucker. He’s my brother.”
Memories flood my mind of my parents fighting when I was maybe five years old, before my father took his life. They were high school sweethearts, but they had a brief breakup when they were younger, right before they had me. Then, one day out of nowhere, a woman showed up with a kid barely older than me, claiming it was my dad’s son. My father denied it, said the woman was crazy, claimed he’d never even met her.
I never saw them again, but I remember hearing my mom screaming at my dad about it afterwards. As a kid, I didn’t realize that meant I had a half-brother. I didn’t even remember any of that happening until now.
“Don’t let him out of your sight until I get there.”
“You have a brother?” Evan asks, her voice cautious.
“Half-brother,” I correct. “Seems Valeen was right. History does repeat itself.”
“WHERE IS HE?” SEBASTIAN BARKS, slamming the door before rounding the front of the truck where Eros, Lathan, and Tres stand.
“He’s setting up the globe,” Eros answers. All four of them prowl toward the black and white Sons of Eastlake tent.
“Let me have this one,” Sebastian says, fists clenched at his sides.
I hurry after them. “What are you going to do?” I don’t like this. Dread rolls through me, making me feel nauseous.
“Go back to the bunkhouse, Evan.”
“Are you kidding me?” I’m not going anywhere.
He lo
oks to Tres. “Keep her safe.” Tres nods his understanding.
When we reach the tent, Elliot is squatting next to the globe. He looks over his shoulder when he hears us approach.
“What’s up?” he asks, sounding nervous as he wipes his hands on a rag.
Without a word, Sebastian marches toward him, his fist flying into Elliot’s face. Elliot’s head jerks back with the hit, his expression stunned. He brings his hands to his nose, and when he pulls away, they’re bloody.
“What the fuck was that for?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Isaac.” Sebastian brings his hand to his chin, like he’s in deep thought. “For lying about who you are for two goddamn years. For locking Evan in a fucking cargo trailer. For breaking into her hotel room. Take your pick.”
What?
Elliot’s eyes dart toward me, but Sebastian shoves him backward. “Don’t fucking look at her.”
Suddenly, Elliot dips a shoulder and tackles Sebastian, both of them hitting the ground, fists wailing on each other. I lunge forward to stop their fight, but Tres wraps an arm around my waist, holding me back.
Sebastian gains the upper hand, grabbing Elliot’s collar in both hands. “What the fuck was your goal? Huh?” he shouts, spit flying from his lips.
“My goal?” He laughs, blood dripping from his mouth. “To see what my father left us for. So far, I’m not impressed.”
Sebastian’s eyebrows nosedive, his expression unreadable. “What does Evan have to do with any of that?”
“Nothing. That part was just for fun.” Elliot smirks, smiling like a psychopath.
Sebastian snaps, cracking his forehead against Elliot’s. His head flies back, and he hits the ground with a groan. Sebastian continues hitting him, landing blow after blow, as Elliot lies there, barely moving.
“Sebastian!” I scream. He doesn’t so much as pause. I look over to Eros and Lathan. “Stop him! He’s going to kill him!”
They hesitate, looking conflicted.
Digging my nails into Tres’ forearm, I claw my way out of his hold, running toward Sebastian. He’s like a man possessed, his cross dangling from his chest in between them as he beats the shit out of Elliot.
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