Fakers

by Meg Collett

  She rocked against him one last time before she came. Gasping, she opened her eyes and watched him as her hips bucked into his hand. The pleasure rolled through her, flaring her insides until she felt like she’d been set on fire and left to burn.

  When it was over, she settled against him, her limbs numb. Easily, he rose from the ground, picking her up as well. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her from the kitchen and up the stairs.

  “Stay with me, baby,” he murmured. He opened her bedroom door with his foot. Kyra was still too hazy to do much besides nod her head against his neck. Gently, he laid her down on the bed.

  She looked up at him, watching as he pulled off his shirt and pants. The moon streamed in from the window and etched every line of his body. He lowered himself over her, and Kyra arched up against him, thinking that eventually this man would break her heart apart without even knowing.

  “Be careful, Hale,” she whispered, not meaning it the way he thought she did.

  “Always.”

  twenty-eight

  Kyra was up early the next morning. Before Hale woke up, she’d gotten in a punishing workout, shower, and breakfast. When he finally stirred, just as the sun was fully rising, she was back in bed, working. She pulled out her earphones and looked over at him with a smile.

  “I’m tired,” he said, sounding half asleep.

  “You worked hard last night.”

  “Could probably conjure that strength now,” Hale said, the corner of his mouth twitching.

  “Ha!” She snorted. “Is the crew coming today?”

  “Nah.” He pulled the sheet back up to his shoulders and burrowed deeper into the pillows. “Gave them today off to prepare their houses for the storm this weekend.”

  “That was nice of you,” she commented, tucking one of her earphones back in and jigging her foot in time to the lilting beat.

  He grunted in response. Just when his breathing turned to the slow, deliberate breaths of sleep, a loud honk sounded from outside. Kyra smirked as he reared up in bed.

  “What the fuck?”

  “Furniture.” She slapped his arm, springing from the bed. “You get to help.”

  As she passed by the bed, she ripped off the sheets, exposing the length of his hard, naked body. She didn’t bother paying attention to his string of colorful curse words as she pounded down the steps and swung the front door open before the furniture guys even had a chance to knock.

  “Morning!” She beamed up at the surprised man. His beard was bright red and his belly protruded nearly a foot in front of him.

  “Ma’am,” he said gruffly with a nod. “We’ve got some furniture for you today.”

  Kyra clapped her hands together in excitement. “Awesome! Let’s get to it then.” She swiveled around and hollered up the stairs, “Hale! Hurry up!”

  “Uh…I’m Dusty.”

  She shook his offered hand quickly before stepping around him onto the porch. A floor lamp was being lowered from a large truck in front of her house. She already knew the neighborhood ladies would complain because the truck was blocking the street. Mrs. Harrison could suck it, Kyra thought. Her house was finally getting furniture!

  She practically danced down her front walk to the back of the truck. Inside, she recognized her wrought-iron bed frame with gilded roses. The old sixties record player was right in front, and her mouth watered at finally being able to play her records.

  Hale finally came downstairs after Dusty and his helper had muscled in a heavy coffee table. Together, the four of them got everything inside and in the right rooms. By the time it was all done, Hale was wiping beads of sweat off his brow and Kyra was flitting from room to room, trying to figure out how to arrange everything. She stopped long enough to tip the guys from the salvage store before they left. Hale collapsed onto her pink zebra chair, which happened to be the only comfy seat she had in her living room. She pulled out her phone to take notes. Her first one: couches.

  “You know,” he said, “this isn’t what you pay me to do. I’m a contractor, not a mover.”

  Distracted, Kyra looked up from her phone. She’d already been shopping for cute couches. “What?”

  “I don’t arrange furniture either. And I certainly don’t rearrange furniture fifty million times.”

  “I’m not going to ask you to rearrange it fifty million times,” she said, frowning.

  Hale gestured toward her. “I see what you’re doing. The crazy is brewing in your eyes right now. You have that fifty million look on your face.”

  Kyra sniffed. He might have a point. She really had no clue where she wanted everything. “So you’re not going to help me?”

  “I’ll help you.” He crossed his legs at the ankle, stretching his arms over his head. His shirt lifted, revealing a swath of tan skin and patch of dark hair below his belly button. Kyra knew that spot on him well by now, but her mouth still pooled with warm saliva. “But it’ll cost you.”

  “You’re going to charge me?”

  “In many ways.” He smirked. “Later tonight. Maybe even during all this furniture arranging if I get bored or you piss me off extra good.”

  Kyra rolled her eyes. “Okay, whatever, Fabio. Let’s get going.”

  Later that night, after she had asked him to rearrange everything numerous, but not quite fifty million, times, she realized he really did intend on charging her.

  “Excuse me?” she asked, a crimson blush crawling up her neck. Pizza boxes were still out on the counter, but Hale had distracted her from cleaning up.

  “I asked if you remembered when you said you wanted to suck my dick.”

  “Possibly.”

  He stalked toward her. “You remember,” he whispered a few inches from her face. “I can tell because your hands are starting to tremble. They always do that when you’re turned on. So, tell me, Kyra. Do you want to suck my dick?”

  “Yes.” Her hands were indeed trembling, as were her fingertips and knees.

  “Have you ever had a dick in your mouth?”

  “Yes.”

  Hale scowled, his face turning dark and vicious. He didn’t like her answer one bit. “It won’t be like this. Understand?”

  “Yes,” she quietly said again.

  “Good.” He backed up against the counters and dropped his jeans. They naturally hung so low on his tapered hips that they easily slid right off without even being unbuttoned. He wore no boxers, and his erection was free to press into the rigid creases of his stomach muscles. His massive, tattooed thighs were spread as far as his jeans would allow. Everything Kyra saw screamed man to her. “Come here.” He crooked his finger at her, beckoning her closer.

  She obeyed. “Hale…” Her breath whooshed out of her, leaving her gasping when he took her hand and wrapped it around his erection.

  “You can start now.”

  His hands cupped her shoulders and pressed her down. Kyra resisted. “Hale, you can’t just command someone to…to suck…well, to do that.”

  “Why not? I said you would be charged. This is your payment.”

  Kyra rolled her eyes, crossing her arms and stepping away from him. “You’re such an ass.”

  Hale smiled wickedly. His hand was faster than she could even see. Grasping her wrist, he jerked her against him, pressing her stomach into his dick. Her insides liquefied into bubbling lava.

  “We had a bargain, Kyra.” He cooed the words into her ear, grinding his hips against her until she thought her skin might light on fire.

  When the haze he had stirred in her cleared enough for her to form a thought, she realized Hale was the one naked here. There was an intimate power in being the only one in the room with clothes on. And he was already hard as granite, with barely a touch from her. He had given her all the control in this situation, even if he was bossing her around. She could either get flustered and embarrassed or embrace the situation and live it.

  She slanted her eyes up at him and grinned, sinking to the ground in front of him. His b
reath hissed through gritted teeth when Kyra took him in her hand. She explored the length of his dick, her fingers nowhere close to wrapping around his width.

  She slipped the tip of his penis into her mouth as she looked up at him. His nostrils were flared, his lips parted. Using her tongue over his tip as she worked her hand up and down him, she found the things he clearly enjoyed the most. Her mouth made sucking, popping noises as the moisture built up along his length. When she withdrew her mouth and licked up his length, the muscles in his legs went rigid, the strain evident in his face before he pulled her to her feet after a few moments.

  “Let’s finish this somewhere else.”

  He took her hand and tugged her from the kitchen and up the stairs. They’d put her new bed up here, in addition to some other pieces, so it looked completely different now that it was organized. Hale spun her around so her back was to the bed before he pushed her down.

  Laughing, she landed on the soft blankets. The iron frame rattled against the wall as he climbed on top of her, his face drawn into serious lines. He jerked her workout shorts down her legs, taking her still-slightly damp bikini bottom with it. He didn’t bother with her top.

  “You have a dirty mouth, Kyra. I can tell you’ve done that to other guys.” He reached down for her, testing her wetness. She was more than ready. “I’m figuring out that that pisses me off.”

  “What does?” she asked, her previous amusement was long gone. He plunged two fingers inside of her.

  “That you’ve done that to someone else.”

  Kyra pressed herself into his hand as she hooked her leg over his hip. “What about if I screw guys after you? Does that make you mad too?” Her growl almost matched Hale’s. He shoved his fingers deeper into her, making the headboard slam against the wall. Kyra groaned, spreading her legs wider.

  “Do you really want to talk about this right now?”

  “Why not?” She pulled his erection out of his jeans and positioned it against her.

  “Fine,” he hissed. He shoved himself inside of her all at once. “And yeah, it fucking pisses me off.”

  Before, he had eased into her, letting her adjust to his width. Not this time. Kyra cried out, her hands reaching behind her to hold on to the wrought iron rods of the bed as Hale slid out slightly, only to slam back inside her.

  It surprised her to learn she liked it rough. She hooked her other leg around him and just held on as he hammered into her. Her mouth gaped open, her head pressed into the mattress as Hale filled every inch of her. He destroyed her, tore her apart. But she loved the punishment.

  After a moment of his grinding pace, Hale slowed but didn’t ease off the intensity. He reached between them and worked his finger over Kyra’s clit. It was all she needed. She cried out, not worrying about being quiet. Too late, she realized the windows were still open, but she didn’t care as her body writhed under Hale.

  Deep lines formed between Hale’s heavy brows. The tattoos along his neck twisted and bulged. He emptied into her, pumping himself against her until his hips finally grew still. Then he collapsed on her.

  His weight was crushing, but he rolled, pulling her on top of him and keeping himself firmly inside of her. She was too exhausted to do anything but sprawl on top of him. Already, the soreness built between her legs.

  “Do you not want me to be with anyone else?” she asked quietly.

  She thought Hale must have fallen asleep, it took him so long to respond. “It would be a nice fantasy.”

  “Why does it have to be a fantasy?” she asked. She twisted her head to look at him, but his gaze was lost somewhere outside.

  “Do I really seem like the marrying type? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a little rough around the edges.”

  “But I like it.”

  “You like what’s not good for you,” Hale said, but he didn’t know how close he was to the real, darkest truth of Kyra.

  She was suddenly cold as she stood up to go to the bathroom, tugging at the hem of her shirt. “What’s wrong with that if it makes us happy?”

  Hale sat up, not bothering to cover himself. “Come on, Kyra. Look at you.” He gestured broadly in her direction. “You’re not the kind of girl who settles down with someone like me.”

  She snorted, her anger building. “Oh, really? Am I the same girl you called fake? Or is this the goody two-shoes Kyra? I’m getting confused with all your judgments of me.”

  He sighed, raking his hand roughly through his hair. “Come here.”

  “No. I’m going to clean up.” She turned back to the bathroom.

  He rose up on the bed, his knees pressing into the mattress. He was already getting hard again. “Don’t bother.”

  twenty-nine

  Hale didn’t even stir when Kyra got up the next morning. She had no desire to work out after everything they had done last night. Instead, she took a long bath and pulled on some comfortable sweats. She sent a text to Stevie before she went downstairs for breakfast.

  She was still the only one awake after she tidied the kitchen and tinkered with the furniture some more. Too restless to shop and too distracted to work, she meandered through the house and out to the back porch. Any thoughts of surfing were nixed at the sight of the ocean; the waves were massive and crashing, and the sky was dark with roiling clouds. Gusts of wind buffeted against the house and bent the trees. The first few raindrops hit the back porch as Kyra stood in the doorway, sipping on her coffee.

  With nothing else to do, she drifted up the stairs and into the front bedroom. By the time she’d picked up a new album and sat in the window seat, the rain was pattering against the storm shuttering in splattering drops that rattled the aluminum. She wondered how many times her mom had been stuck inside, sitting where Kyra sat now, when the weather turned bad.

  These kinds of questions plagued her. Lately it seemed like she compared everything she did to her mom. She had come to Canaan Island to fill the hole inside left behind after her mother’s death, and she had found more than she thought she would with all these albums, but they hadn’t helped. If anything, the hole inside of her was widening.

  “Morning, babe.”

  Hale stood in the doorway, but he didn’t come any farther. Kyra had been so consumed staring down at the pictures of her mom, she hadn’t even heard him go downstairs and get a cup of coffee.

  “Do you want to look at some pictures with me?” she asked, instantly knowing she wanted him in here with her.

  “You sure?” His words were careful as he took a slow drink of his coffee.

  “I am.” She motioned him over, making room on the seat beside her. “This one seems to be mostly of Mom during her freshmen year of high school. Look at her crazy hair.”

  Hale sat beside her and peered down at the book. He smiled. “That is pretty wild.”

  She flipped through some more pages with him sitting quietly beside her. When he’d finished his coffee, he pulled her to his side, tucking her against him. “She looks a lot like you there,” he said, pointing to a picture. “You have her smile. Your real smile, not the fake one.”

  Kyra smiled up at him then, knowing that she loved him.

  “Yeah, that’s the one,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth.

  They spent the entire morning upstairs flipping through the photo albums. After weeks of living in the house, Kyra finally looked through all the pictures of her mom. They ended somewhere in the middle of Lila’s junior year of high school. She had avoided the moment when she would turn the last page of the last book, thinking she’d feel empty with nothing else to look at, but she didn’t. Actually, she felt pretty good.

  “Maybe we could carry these downstairs and put them on the bookshelf in the living room,” Kyra said, clutching an album to her chest.

  “If it means I don’t have to move it again, I think it’s a great idea.” Hale stood and picked up a stack of books.

  “Oh, please. It hasn’t been that bad.”

  “Baby, I
love you, but you’re as indecisive as a border collie chasing a rabbit on a rabbit farm.”

  Kyra stilled, frozen in place by his words. He noticed her expression and comprehension dawned on him. Horror filled his eyes, and his face went extremely pale.

  “Hey, now. I mean…”

  An envelope slipped loose from the stack of books he held. Kyra tore her eyes away from him to watch as it fluttered to the floor. With his words rattling around in her skull, she bent to pick it up.

  “What’s this?”

  “Um…” Hale shifted, clearly still uncomfortable with what he’d accidently said.

  She flipped the letter over. In slightly slanting, curving script was her name. She didn’t recognize the handwriting. Actually, she’d never seen it before in her life. And that fact alone told her who it was.

  “It’s from Mom,” she whispered.

  Everything seemed to fade away in that moment. The pain that had welled at Hale’s obvious regretful choice of words died down. She forgot about his admission completely. Everything melted away except for the letter in her hand—at least she hoped it was a letter. She closed her eyes and prayed it was a letter.

  This could make everything okay, she thought.

  “I’m going to go downstairs and let you read it in private.” Hale touched her cheek, meeting her eyes. “I’m sorry about that, Kyra. We can talk about it later. This is more important.”

  He took their coffee cups and left. When the door shut softly behind him, she sank to the floor. She held the letter in her arms like it was a newborn baby.

  Before she could talk herself out of it, she opened the letter. The sealant was long gone, so she could pull out the folded paper without damaging the envelope. Opening the page, it smelled like time long past and mildew, but Kyra caught the softest strains of perfume wafting from it.

  Lila had been the last person to ever hold this letter, Kyra thought. This was the closest she’d ever come to her mother in her adult life. She took a deep breath and began to read.