Every Day (The Brush Of Love Series, #2)

by Lexy Timms

  “Could I ask you something?”

  “You can ask me anything, Bryan.”

  “Could I show you how much I missed you?”

  I honestly wasn’t sure what he was talking about until I saw his face slowly approaching mine. His eyes fluttered closed, and I could feel his breath on the tip of my tongue, and at first, I just stared at him. Then, our lips connected, and my gaze darted around his face, trying to figure out where this was going and trying to figure out what was happened and what my response should be.

  But the moment I closed my eyes and lost myself in the dance of his lips, my body rose to the occasion and knew exactly what to do.

  My hands slowly crept up his chest, feeling the strength underneath his clothing while his hand slid down my body. His hand cupped my breast, tugging my nipple to life as my legs shifted for him. My knees fell off to the side as he slid in between my thighs, my body inviting him in as if he’d never left. Our tongues danced deeply within each other’s cheeks, my body trying to drink down every single thing about him. My hands were curling into his back, pulling his shirt from his body as his hands started to creep up my shirt.

  We rolled around and rid ourselves of our clothes, feeling our naked bodies against one another’s for the first time in months. My lips slid down his neck, taking in the beating of his pulse point while my fingertips grazed his rigid muscles. I planted kiss after kiss on his neck. His shoulder. His chest. His hips. I laid him back while my tongue traveled his body, tracing the outlines of his broad muscles while my eyes took in the movement of his tattoos.

  I loved how they flexed for me when Bryan gave his body over to my every whim.

  I kissed him down to his toes before I gazed down at him. His eyes scanned the length of my body, his tongue darting out to lick his lips while his darkened gaze took me in. I reached down and wrapped my hand around his thick erection, feeling him throb in the palm of my hand as he groaned, but the moment was lost when he flipped over and pressed my stomach into the bed.

  “Just lay there,” he said darkly.

  I felt his lips press into the blade of my shoulder, causing me to jump as every single hair on my body rose to his needs. His hands trailed lightly down my curves, taking in the softness of my skin as his lips kissed down my back. He nipped and sucked, marking areas of my body his lips hadn’t touched yet, and I could’ve sworn I felt him smiling against my skin while he did it.

  His hands massaged my ass cheeks while his tongue grazed the back of my thighs. My legs parted for him, offering him any sort of passage to where my wetness needed him while he rediscovered my body. I could feel the intimacy bleeding from his fingertips as his lips ghosted the globe of my ass, but the moment he pressed a kiss to my sopping wet entrance, I lifted my hips and offered myself to him.

  He laid between my legs and supported my hips in his hands before his tongue darted out and pressed into my body. I moaned at the sensation, bucking back onto his tongue while he reached further up. I felt the tip of this tongue flicker against my clit, shivering my entire body as I gripped my hands into his bedsheets.

  Then, he began his beautiful assault as my ass bucked back into his face.

  Over and over and over again, his tongue flicked my swollen clit. His lips sucked up the juices I had for him while his hands roamed my body, and I thought I was simply going to combust. For weeks, all I’d wanted was to talk with him, and here he was cherishing my body like he had done for weeks and weeks over the summer.

  My head was spinning with the pleasure his tongue was delivering to me, but before I could reach my peak, he pulled himself back.

  I was panting into the bed while his body stalked up mine, and the moment his hands drew my hips into the air, I knew exactly what was coming.

  Without a word said between the two of us, he slipped into my dark, wet heat. My walls parted for him, throbbing around his welcome intrusion as we both groaned together. His hands slid up my back before his fist wrapped into my hair, and as his hips began to roll into mine, I planted my hands on his headboard.

  I timed my thrusts with his, bucking back into him while his balls smacked my clit. His groans and gasps melded with my whimpers and whispered prayers, and soon, his room was covered with the sweet, familiar scent of our sex. His bed was rocking, and his sheets were soaked with me, and I could feel him throbbing inside me as my legs began to give way.

  But before either of us found what we were looking for, he wrapped his arms around me and brought us both down on our sides.

  His hands tweaked my nipples, pulling them to painful peaks as I arched back into him. My leg swung around his hips, his thickness still sunken into me as my hips begged for him to continue. I reached behind me and grabbed his hair, pulling his face into my neck as he showered me with kisses.

  And the entire time, all he did was stay seated inside of me.

  “I’ve missed this,” he said into my skin. “I’ve missed you.”

  “I never stopped hoping you’d come back to me,” I said breathlessly as he pulled out. “I never stopped hoping you would—”

  He slammed back into me, rendering me speechless. My jaw unhinged in silent pleasure as his hand trickled down my stomach, heading for that beautiful place I could feel pulsing with desperate need. He filled me to the brim time and time again as he sent my body into shocks of pleasure, and the moment his fingertips began dancing around my clit, I could no longer contain myself.

  I thrust my ass against him relentlessly, chasing my pleasure while his teeth dug into the meat of my shoulder. One hand grasped my breast tightly while the other worked itself between my legs, and I could feel his thickness growing larger and larger while my pussy coaxed his arousal from between his legs. I could feel the both of us shaking, our bodies losing all control against one another while we climbed that dark trek up the mountain.

  When his arm wrapped tightly around my waist and pulled me closer to him, my hands flew into his hair just before we both tumbled off the side of that cliff.

  My body shook while my legs pulled taut. His thumb pressed onto my clit while my walls sucked him deeper into my body. I could feel him pulsing inside of me, his hips slamming as far into me as he could get while he dug his face into the crook of my neck. We moaned and gasped, trembling and quaking on the sheets of his bed as we allowed our pleasure to barrel over our bodies.

  But the moment our bodies dropped back to reality, the words left my lips as easily as they always had.

  “I love you, Bryan.”

  I was panting, heaving for air while he stayed deep inside my body. I could feel our intermingled juices dripping from between my legs, and I thought I might have said the wrong thing. I started to move, pulling away from his body. But all he did was wrap his arms around my waist and pull me so close, he threatened to cut off my air supply.

  And that’s when I felt the first of many tears he would cry that night dripping onto my shoulder.

  “I love you, too, Hailey. I love you so much.”

  Chapter 17

  Bryan

  Halloween had come and gone, and I’d celebrated it all at the art gallery. I’d taken the day off and visited Hailey, watching as all the kids of various ages, races, and social classes descended on her studio. She had bowls of candy and free little artworks she had painted and framed just for them, and the sheer joy on those children’s faces was enough to make my heart soar. Hailey was smiling and laughing, selling paintings right off the wall while I stood there in the corner admiring her and watching her succeed at something she’d always wanted her entire life.

  I enjoyed the holiday with her. I stayed the entire day at her gallery before we went home and prepared for the trick-or-treaters I knew my home would get. She made us homemade apple cider, and we doled out candy while sitting on the porch. I didn’t think it could get any more perfect than this moment.

  But I knew a dinner with my parents was looming around the corner, and as the air continued to grow chilly with the slow approa
ch of Thanksgiving, I realized why the air around my parents’ house was colder than usual. My parents were simply cold human beings.

  “Hailey and I are back together,” I said.

  “Oh,” my mother said. “How did that happen?”

  “Reconciliation. Apologies. You know, talking like adults,” I said.

  “Well, I, for one, am happy for you, son. I could see how much she meant to you,” he said.

  “What happened between the two of you anyway?” my mother asked. “You never did mention it.”

  “She knew what actually happened to John,” I said.

  “What?” my father asked.

  “She knew what actually happened to John, and she kept it from me,” I said.

  “I have no idea what that’s even supposed to mean,” my mother said.

  “John didn’t die a drug addict, Mom. John died sober, trying to save Hailey’s life,” I said.

  “He what?” my father asked.

  “Yeah. Hailey knew him back when he was in L.A. She had her own little art studio that she used to pull him off the streets. He cleaned up the moment he could delve into his art again,” I said.

  “That boy was always so dramatic over some little paintings,” my mother said.

  “Well, those little paintings saved his life. He cleaned up his act and tried to help get Hailey out of a rough scenario,” I said.

  “In a bad relationship or something? Don’t tell me she dated John. She’d be practically bunny-hopping around the family. Who’s next? Me?” my father asked.

  “Don’t be silly, you’d never stoop down and date someone like Hailey,” my mother said.

  “What the hell does that mean?” I asked.

  “Look, whatever this Hailey girl told you, you know it isn’t true. You saw John a couple months before his death, right? You said so yourself that he was high when the encounter happened,” my mother said.

  “I said I thought he was high because never once had he ever raised his voice at me,” I said.

  “He did to us all the time,” my mother said.

  “Because you ripped his art away from him, and it spiraled him into drugs,” I said.

  “Well, that was his choice. It could’ve just as easily spiraled him into something else like music or mathematics,” my father said.

  “Taking away a child’s ability to express themselves through art is supposed to drive them toward math, Dad?” I asked.

  “So, what was this heroic act our son supposedly died doing?” my mother asked.

  I could feel my blood pressure rising as I set down my fork and drew in a deep breath.

  “One of Hailey’s art students was selling drugs out of her studio. Some guys came by and threatened her, dragged her out of bed by her neck, Mom. John was there and got them away from her, and then he set out to fix it, so they wouldn’t come back. Those same guys killed him because he was trying to protect her.”

  My parents fell silent while they both studied my face. My eyes volleyed back and forth between them, holding onto the hope that the truth would finally set them free of this fucking nonsense and that knowing their son was a hero who devoted his last breath to save the life of a woman would somehow make them proud of him.

  But the hope was short-lived the moment my mother opened her mouth.

  “And you think this was John?” she asked, grinning. “You think he got sober and became Superman.”

  “You have to admit, Bryan, it doesn’t sound at all like John,” my father said.

  “Are you two serious?” I asked. “You really don’t think your son was capable of getting sober and staying that way, much less helping a woman. Dad, you were the one who drilled into our heads the value of treating a woman with respect.”

  “Yes, but not saving her life,” he said.

  “So, you wouldn’t save Mom’s life?” I asked.

  “I’d do it in a heartbeat, but that’s because I love her. Was John in love with your girlfriend?” he asked.

  “No. They weren’t dating. He probably loved her, yes, but because she helped him, pulled him off the street and gave him a place to clean himself up. Mom. Dad. He had a place he was renting before he died. His own home,” I said.

  “Are you sure she didn’t track you down, Bryan?” my mother asked. “Sounds like she just wanted a piece of the other brother, if you ask me.”

  “Don’t you ever talk about her that way again,” I said.

  “I’m just stating a possible truth. John couldn’t have done those things. He didn’t have it in him. He was always the shy, timid kid. You were the outgoing one,” my mother said.

  “John died because he was mixing with the wrong people. For all you know, he knew those guys who came into her studio if that’s even true. And you need to learn from his death, son. You need to get away from people like Hailey.”

  “And Drew,” my mother said.

  “Before you end up like him,” my father said.

  I couldn’t believe my ears. My parents had actually found a way to spin my brother’s heroic death into nothing other than more lies, deceit, and manipulation. They were still trying to find a way to get my life back on some path they felt I should be on, and it made me realize why I’d automatically accused Hailey of all those things and why my emotional reaction had been the way it had been that day in the back of her art gallery. I’d been scared that I’d fallen in love with someone like my parents.

  The thought made me sick that I could ever lump her beauty and her honesty in with the likes of the disgusting people I was looking at.

  “Well, you might get your wish with Drew. He’s probably going to leave the company soon to open his tattoo parlor, which I think is better for him anyway. It’s where his passion lies,” I said.

  “Oh, you’re going to liquidate,” my father exclaimed.

  “Never said anything about that,” I said. “I’m happy for Drew no matter what he chooses, but I’m staying with the company.”

  “Well, that’s Drew’s decision. If he wants to scar the people of this city further with that mess he put on your body, that’s his prerogative,” my mother said.

  “It won’t be as lucrative as what he’s doing now,” my father said, “but some people don’t want greatness.”

  “I know, Dad. Heaven forbid they actually want to be happy,” I said.

  “You should really heed your father’s advice,” my mother said. “Liquidating and investing the money would be a much more substantial way to spend your time. It’ll also help you build your financial future. If you wanted, we could set you up with—”

  “I don’t need help liquidating a business I have no intention of liquidating. If anything, I’ll be liquidating Drew’s share of the company, so he can open his tattoo parlor without going into debt,” I said.

  “You mean you actually support this venture of his?” my mother asked. “Isn’t he your friend or something? You should be advising him otherwise.”

  I sat back in my chair and started wondering why the hell I even continued to try. After the encounter we had last time, I figured I would never see them again. Yet here we were, going around and around the way we usually did where my parents insulted anything and everything about my life and those I loved, and in the process, they expected me to hop on board with what they were saying.

  All of it.

  “You know, you guys were never like this before you had money,” I said, snickering.

  “Like what?” my mother asked.

  “He’s about to get dramatic again, Dorothy. Hang on,” my father said.

  I felt every single rubber band of patience snap in my gut as I slowly panned my eyes toward my father. He straightened his back as my mother braced herself for what was to come.

  But nothing they could’ve done would’ve prepared them for where I was going.

  “I’m embarrassed to call you my parents,” I said.

  “Excuse me?” my father asked.

  “I’m embarrassed and ashamed of t
he two of you,” I said. “I come here twice a month and listen to the two of you berate and spit all over the life I’ve created for myself, and that’s somehow supposed to garner you favor with me? Are you fucking serious?”

  “Watch your—”

  “I won’t watch anything,” I said. “I grew up in this home just as much as you live in it. I roamed the halls with a brother who became a hero, even though his own fucking parents are determined to throw him under the damn bus.”

  I could see the tears rising in my mother’s eyes, but I no longer cared.

  “Before we had money, the two of you loved. You lived life, and you saw the beauty in things, and you experienced it instead of merely walking through it. But the moment you made your first twenty million, Dad, it all went to shit. All the two of you did was stick us with the nanny while you gallivanted off to parties and stumbled in drunk. You stopped supporting things, and you merely started sending checks, thinking your money was enough,” I said.

  “One day, should you ever become lucky enough to be a parent, you’ll realize that you’re more than just a parent. Your father and I deserved those parties. We deserved getting away from how rough it was raising two boys like you and John,” my mother said.

  “But you were parents when you wanted to rip his art away when you thought he was delving into something you thought wasn’t productive. You didn’t want to steer him toward a career or anything, but you sure as hell were set on ripping his one piece of happiness away from him.”

  “That’s enough,” my father asked.

  “No. For years the two of you have had your say, but don’t worry. This’ll be the last time I’ll come back to this house.”

  “What?” my mother asked breathlessly.

  “If you don’t want to acknowledge the fucking hero your son was, fine. That’s not my problem that you simply don’t want to accept your hand in John’s death. That’s cool. But now what you’re doing is overcompensating. You’re pushing me toward a path you think I should be on because you think that’s what you did wrong. You think not pushing John toward a fucking job is what killed him, but do you know what actually killed him?” I asked.