With sluggish feet, I wander up the stairs and into Hunter’s spacious room. Pawing through his chest of drawers, I find one of his large T-shirts, shimmy out of the mirror dress and toss Hunter’s shirt over my head. Sweeping the covers back, I lie in Hunter’s bed. His scent wraps around me in a weird protective and comforting shield, causing my chest to become tight.
***
Hero
Listening to my iPod, I take a few swigs of moonshine. It only takes a little to get shitfaced. Too much is swimming close to death. The clear liquor burns my mouth and sears my throat and chest. The warmth spreads quickly, ebbing away the icy numbness. Sitting the bottle down, I bury my face in the soft pillows and hope sleep takes me before the nightmares of old memories do. Isabel is not the only one broken and hurting. I loved Tyler, not in the same way he loved me, but I loved him. He was more than a friend and less than a lover. We grow up together and played house when Isabel and Hunter made us, we were their children. Tyler was so fucking fragile and that’s what made him unbelievably beautiful to me.
He was troubled and shattered. I wanted to protect him from the world, wanted to fight anyone who caused him distress and many times did. We we’re planning to travel the world together with Lark. It was something all three of us looked forward to. We were set to leave right after graduation, so I don’t understand why he would go through with suicide. He had my fucking number. Tyler knew rain or shine, day or night that I would be there for him. He fucking knew. After everything we’ve been through I know deep down within the depths of my heart, hundred percent assured that he knew I had his damn back. He was hurting, I was hurting. We were in hell together.
But he didn’t call. He didn’t tell me what was bothering him. The last week of his life he isolated himself. He didn’t want to be around me at all. I should’ve picked up the signs, caught on faster. Maybe he would still be alive if I did my duty in such. Tyler loved being in my space and in my life, shit he was my life. Outside of him there was little to no rays of hope. We hung out every fucking day. He introduced me to Taylor Cruz our freshman year of high school. She’s quiet and pretty and dressed like shit, that’s all I knew. Tyler told me he’d been friends with her since sixth grade. I thought that was strange considering I knew almost everything about Tyler and never once did he mention Taylor before. She’s nice though. I think she has a thing for me, or had a thing for me. I didn’t pounce on the opportunity when I had the chance because I was too concerned about Tyler’s feelings. I knew he loved me in a way I could never love him. I’m just not wired that way. He liked boys. I don’t. But what we had was bigger than that. I didn’t ask Taylor to be mine because I didn’t want to hurt him.
I don’t know why Hunter and I share this unhealthy fascination with delicate souls that go down the road of self-destruction. We want to save them and in the end and be their everything, their world. I don’t know what made Hunter pull the stick from his ass and finally get involved with Isabel again. I just hope he realizes how fucking lucky he is to have her breathing and fight for her, even when it seems like he’s fighting a losing battle. He should fight for her until his heart stops beating. I would fight for Tyler like that. I did fight for Tyler like that. Hunter is too complicated. He should just stake his claim.
Isabel is fucking attractive and she doesn’t have an inkling of how beautiful she really is. Tragic. It’s torment every time I look at her. She looks so much like Tyler, it’s like she’s the girl version of him. Pure fucking agony. I have some kind of longing and connection towards her because of the resemblance. I want to comfort her, stroke her hair and whisper reassurances in her ear and then another part of me wants nothing to do with her, an entirely different part of me wants to hate her. She’s like a walking reminder of my biggest failure in life.
I can’t live up to my fucking name.
I turn the volume up on my iPod and take more sips from the lethal liquid. My eyes drift to the window and I watch a sea of raindrops splash and crash down until blackness takes over.
***
Isabel
The thunder crackles and harsh white lightning bolts flash across the sky. The rain is heavy and isn’t letting up, transforming the outside into a water world. Scooting out the bed, I make my way down the long wooden corridor to Hero’s room. I can’t sleep, maybe he is still awake.
The door is ajar, but when I step inside the dark room, Hero is passed out on top of the bed, fully clothed, his long limbs sprawled out and taking up most of the space. His eyes are closed, his mouth slightly open, earbuds plugged into his ears, Nirvana blasting from the speakers. For a moment, I just admire the beauty that is him: tousled hair, thick lashes that curl upwards, full, kissable lips that are too similar to Hunter’s, the cutest nose, and a strong jaw line. Every single detail about Hero is appealing in a very unnatural way. No human has the right to be that attractive.
My fingers rake through his soft hair.
He groans and turns over.
I drop my hand and tiptoe back out the room, not having the heart to wake him.
Hunter’s walk-in closet is the perfect to hide from the raging storm, no windows. There’s a forestry draft inside here, puffs of white swirl from my mouth when my breath hits the air. It’s like an ice box. Unhooking one of his jackets, I slip it on and zip it all the way up to my neck and then lie down on the soft carpeted floor, balling into the fetal position, hoping to gain some kind of warmth.
I don’t know whether I really fall asleep, but curiosity strikes me when I hear strange animal-like moaning.
Chapter twenty-two
I Want You to Want Me
Frozen and stunned and breathless and transfixed on the last step, I have no choice but to watch Hunter and Candy go at it. Their bodies mingling together are a graceful dance that I am immensely jealous of. Her pale limbs are locked around his hips. Hunter is wedged between her legs, sliding in and out of her in the gentlest rhythm I’ve ever seen anyone use. The motion he uses is one that another would use to illustrate appreciation and even love. The beautiful skin of his back is completely exposed, the muscles and line of his spine tensed. He keeps his jeans on while Candy is nude in the flesh. She shuts her eyes, tossing her head back and moans ever so softly. The quality of her hushed voice is almost songlike.
“Hunter,” she pants, gripping his flexing biceps, her red painted nails cutting into his arms.
He doesn’t respond to her, only drives deeper and faster until her arms flop to her sides and her body, liquefying into gelatin.
“Hunter, sweetie, I’m there—”
Her soft, curvy body is carelessly thrown over the arm of the sofa and Hunter is suddenly behind her, thrusting like a madman, holding back nothing.
A range of emotions surges through me. The most prominent is envy. I envy Candy White. She’s giving Hunter something I always wanted to give him. Her body is much more feminine than mine. She has breasts, hips, and thighs, a soft voluptuous body while I am barely a C-cup and wouldn’t tip the scale at 118 pounds soaking wet. Within the dim light from the fireplace, her skin appears flawless, not marked and scarred like mine.
I am nothing.
Candy is a man’s dream come true.
The pinned up air that I’ve been holding in my lungs, wheezes out through my mouth. I want to cry, maybe scream and shout, or at least run, but I can do neither of those options. This scene before me, which is both beautiful and horrifying, is too captivating to leave. It’s beautiful because the vision of Hunter enjoying himself in such a primal way is kind of worth the agonizing pain I feel in my entire body, not just my chest. Horrifying because Hunter is enjoying himself and I have no part in it.
“Hunter, sweetie, please,” Candy begs. Her low voice is now husky and strained with a pleasure I will never know.
His sounds aren’t as erotic as hers. Hunter’s grunts are angry almost frustrated, like he is losing patience with her, with everything. It seems like he just wants to reach his goal.
But how can that be?
How can he be irritated with an act such as fucking? There are no other words to describe what’s happening. They are not making love. Hunter and Candy are fucking, in the rawest form.
One hand grasps her hip, holding her in place while the other one is knotted in her shining ruby red hair. He tugs harshly as he uses more force to plunge into her.
Her legs start to shake and the soft purrs turns into guttural pleas.
He cups the back of her head, leaning down and twisting her head towards his him to give her a sloppy and possessive kiss, his tongue thrusting into her open and receiving mouth. He kisses her hard, long and deep, never wavering from fucking her brutally.
A rush of warmth floods my body. My nipples are hard and scrape the fabric of Hunter’s shirt. Wetness gathers between my thighs and threatens to seep down my legs. My heart rate and breathing quickens.
If only he would touch me like that.
A harsh flash of white lightning strikes across the sky. It pulls me from my reverie. Not trusting my trembling legs to carry me, I gracefully sink to my knees and begin to clamber up the stairs, careful not to make any noise that will give me away. On my hands and knees, I crawl down the hallway and down to Hero’s cracked room door, using my hand to push the door open and lock it behind me.
He’s still peacefully sleeping with his earbuds in contact when I approach him. I carefully climb into his bed and nudge his shoulder. I have to shake him a few times to get him to fully wake.
He jolts upright, slinging the earbuds from his ears, twisting his head from side to side, his eyes wide and alert. “What? What’s wrong? You okay?”
“I’m scared,” I whisper.
He glances out the window. The trees are violently swaying; it’s as if they are going to snap from the pressure of the wind at any moment. He sighs and wipes the sleep from his eyes. “Of the storm?”
I bite my lip, nodding. “Can I lie down with you?”
He looks at me and blinks.
“Only until the storm passes. Please, Hero,” I beg almost frantically.
“Okay, okay,” his voice gravely from sleep. Hero unthinkingly pats the space bedside him.
Stifling my smile, I form my body into the curves of his, snuggling my face into his neck. He stiffens and then relaxes after a heartbeat, throwing an arm around my back, cradling me close to his chest.
His pulse accelerates. I feel it pound against my cheek. Wanting to finally be selfish, I place my tongue there.
He tenses, inhaling sharply. “Isabel, we can’t.” The tone of his voice is almost whiny, desperate to seek some kind of understanding.
My good hand glides down and I grip him between the legs. His groin instantly twitches and hardens beneath me. “We can.”
He squeezes his eyes shut and gives his head a shake.
“We can,” I whisper, kissing up his neck, rolling on top of him. I graze his earlobe with my teeth and suck the ache away.
“Fuck,” he grunts, eyes still closed.
Straddling him, my hands run underneath his shirt to explore his taut, smooth chest as I rock my hips on the huge budge in his jeans. This feels too good to be so wrong.
“Fuck, Isabel,” he says huskily, flipping me on my back, pinning both of my arms with one of his large hands. “This is wrong on so many levels.”
“I don’t care, Hero. It’s just you and me in this moment, no one else. Give in. It’s okay.”
He stares at me with the strangest expression and then shocks me when he smiles, knowing and almost smug. “I can’t fuck you, but I can…” he trails off, and his hand slips between my legs and roughly cups my sex.
My back arches off the mattress as pleasure blooms there.
“You’re soaked,” he whispers in wonder. His fingers press deeper into my wet flesh until they’re wiggling inside of me.
My body strains against the restraint of his other arm that weighs me down.
His mouth crushes down on mine, his tongue tracing the outline of my lips. I taste alcohol on his breath. He has been drinking. I think he’s drunk, but that isn’t stopping him and it’s definitely not stopping me. We are both unfit to be in a sound state of mind to determine what’s right and what’s completely over the line. Crappy excuse or not, I’m just glad and grateful to have Hero distract me from whatever poison that lurks inside my head at the moment.
He buries his face into my throat, pushing his fingers further into me, his thumb circling my clit. A rush of heat ripples down the line of my spine. My entire body bucks and bows and trembles around his hand. I moan incoherently as my orgasm wrecks me. Before I can calculate anything, Hero settles between my legs and rubs the thick length of himself against me.
His erection warms me through the thin material of his pants as he moves against me, as if he can somehow enter me. I freeze as he pushes into me without really penetrating me. His hot breath fans across my moist face as he increases his speed. I wrap my arms around his back and pull him close to me. His breath hitches and his thrusts me becomes jerker, his breathing more labored. Hero stuffs his face inside my neck and grunts, coming down from his climax.
He collapses on top of me. Hero’s body begins to shake. At first, I think he’s laughing until I feel wetness on the side of my neck from his soft lashes. I lovingly stroke his back and then his hair. He coils his arms around me in a viselike grip, nuzzling his face deeper into my neck. We stay silent like that for the longest moment.
Eventually, Hero gathers his composure when my body starts to tremble with a constricted wail of my own.
He holds me tighter and kisses my cheek.
“I miss him,” I whisper barely audible.
“I do, too.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I am, too.”
Our eyes meet in the dark. He stares down at me, expression guilty but thankful, mirroring mine. Hunter rolls on the side of me with a heavy sigh, pulling me close into his side. His fingers play with the ends of my hair. I try to ignore the big wet spot between his legs and the fact that this entire situation is nauseating. Instead of focusing on the negative, I swim in the relief of my post orgasmic glow and the heavenly weightlessness it brings. I take in a deep breath and close my eyes, falling into a peaceful slumber.
Chapter twenty-three
The Factor That Changes Everything
“Isabel, baby, wake up.”
I groan, rolling away from the voice that threatens to end my heavenly sleep.
That same voice tsks, grasping my wrists and dragging me back over the mattress. “You can never run from me, my sweet.”
Hunter!
My eyes snap open. I fell asleep in Hero’s bed and woke in Hunter’s, dressed in his large gray jacket and shirt with no panties. Hunter sits on the side of the bed, a green glass bowl in his hand. I glance up into narrowed eyes that pins me where I lie.
“Good morning,” he greets, not quite warmly…just controlled.
“Hey.” My voice is raspy, not pleasant like his.
He places the bowl with a silver spoon on the bed, in front of my face. “I made you blueberry oatmeal.”
My eyes drop to the bowl and then back at him. I do this a few times. “I’m not hungry.”
His brows furrow, his forehead creasing. “It’s blueberry and cream. Your favorite. You still like that, right?”
I nod.
He remembered what I like for breakfast? I haven’t had oatmeal since I was a kid.
“Then, eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
His lips twitch, eyes growing darker. “Eat the damn oatmeal, Isabel.”
Avoiding a pointless argument, I pick up the spoon and stuff my mouth with warm, sweet deliciousness. I feel his eyes burning into me. Because of this, I let my gaze roam. His hard jaw is covered with a thin layer of stubble. His hair looks damp and untamed. He doesn’t have a shirt on but he wears jeans, the top button unfastened. He looks like he just took a shower and can probably land the next ro
le for a Gillette commercial.
“What happened to your hand?”
“It was an accident,” I mumble through mouthfuls.
“You had a rough night last night.” It isn’t a question. Hunter is just stating the obvious.
“You two really put on a performance. Oscar worthy.”
His jaw ticks, lips thinning. “I didn’t know you were here. I never wanted you to see that.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m not innocent, Hunter. I know what fucking is, and it wasn’t my first time witnessing it. I promise. You shouldn’t look so beat-up about it.”
He continues to regard me with solemn intensity.
Deciding I have had enough, I sit the bowl down.
“Eat the rest.”
“But I don’t want anymore,” I mumble.
“It’s a little left,” he pushes. “Eat it all.”
“But—”
He shoves the bowl towards me, hostility emitting from his pores. “Eat. All of it.”
Sighing, I stuff the two last tablespoons in my mouth without bothering to chew. He thumb presses on the corner of my mouth, wiping away the oats there. He sucks it off his thumb and for some stupid reason I blush.
“Thanks,” I say, handing him the empty bowl.
He sits the bowl down on stand and hands me a tall glass of orange juice. “Drink. All of it.”
I cock my head to the side and openly stare at him. “You know, Hunter, you don’t have to tell me. I have a brain and I know when I’ve had enough of something.”
His lips twitch as he raises a sardonic brow. “Obviously you don’t.” Hunter doesn’t need to elaborate; I know exactly what he is referring to: when he had to rescue me from myself and what happened between me and Hero last night and maybe my entire life.
“You arrogant bastard, I didn’t ask for your help, Hunter. I didn’t ask for you to save me. I didn’t ask for your help. You just invaded my life. You know what—” I place the juice back on the stand and swing my legs of the edge of the bed, lifting myself up with my hands“—let me do you the biggest favor in the fucking world and leave.”
Pure Illusion (Web Of Deception #1) Page 13