I put my hand on his knee. “I’m sorry.”
“Screw Devin. This is all his fault.”
I bite my tongue, rubbing his knee in what I hope is a soothing gesture.
Ayden swings the car into the hard shoulder, drawing it to a stop. He leans over, capturing my lips with his, kissing me until I can scarcely breathe. He puts his forehead to mine. “Actually, can we just go to your place and chill out on the couch? You’re all I need, and all I want, right now.”
“Of course, babe.” I trace my fingers along the coarse bristle on his jaw. “Whatever you want.”
After an hour at home, making out like demons on the couch, it’s obvious that Ayden is still full of pent-up energy. I prop up on my elbows, hovering over him while he fondles my ass through my jeans. “We could go upstairs?” I suggest, my eyes boring into his. His hands stall on my butt, and then he jumps up, taking my hand without uttering a word.
Pulling me down on the bed beside him, he kisses me firmly, draping his leg over mine. I palm the bulge in his jeans, stroking him through the denim. Without talking, we shed our clothes, kissing and touching until we’re both naked and panting. Ayden kisses his way down my body, more urgently than normal, nudging my thighs apart as he buries his head between my legs. I wriggle around, gasping when his tongue dips inside me. He works me fast, and I fall over the ledge quickly. Panting, I sit up, shoving him down on the bed. I straddle him, rubbing myself over his erection.
“Lina, babe, I’ve only got so much self-control,” he says, grabbing my hips and lifting me off.
I prop up on an elbow, brushing my hair back off my face as I stare earnestly at him. “I’m ready. I want you to make love to me.”
He grabs my face. “Are you sure? If this is about wh—”
“This is about you and me and me wanting you to be the one to take my virginity. I want you to be my first, Ayden. Please don’t make me beg.”
His expression softens. “You know I’d never do that.”
“Then I want to do this. Now. With you.”
He stares at me silently for a couple minutes. Reaching over the edge of the bed, he grabs his jeans and pulls out a condom. My heart is pounding so hard, and the nervous flutter in my chest expands as I watch him rolling it on. Gently, he moves over me, holding himself up as he peers deep into my eyes. “We can stop at any time.”
I place my hand on his bare chest. “I trust you.”
His brow puckers, and he gulps, holding himself perfectly still over me, not moving a muscle. I tense up. He has a faraway look in his eyes that confuses me. “Ayd? Are you okay?”
He refocuses on me, smiling as he leans down, kissing me softly. “I’m fine. Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask, heart pounding in my chest.
He kisses me more passionately. “I’m sure. Stop worrying.”
“Okay.” I nod, offering him a watery smile. He positions himself between my legs, and heat floods my body. He kisses me again. “It’s probably going to hurt a little, but I’ll go slow.”
I capture his lips in a hot kiss, and ever so slowly, he starts inching inside me. Everything tenses up. “Relax, babe, loosen your limbs.” He presses his mouth to that sensitive area on my neck and I widen my legs, sinking deeper into the bed. He pushes in a little more and a searing pain rips through me.
I wince, and he stops. “Don’t stop. I’m okay,” I assure him.
He continues worshiping my mouth and my neck, trailing his wet mouth down my body, teasing my nipples with his tongue, as he slowly fills me up. Once he’s all in, he stays in place, continuing to kiss me all over until he doesn’t feel so foreign inside me anymore. “You can move,” I whisper, my cheeks heating. “I won’t break.”
“Tell me if it hurts.” Very gently, he starts moving, and it stings but not as much as when he first moved inside me. I buck my hips up, and he increases the pace a little, and the sting fades a little, transforming to a more pleasant sensation. “Is this okay?”
“It doesn’t hurt any more. Go faster.”
His grin turns wicked, and he pulls my legs up around his waist. “Wrap them nice and tight, and hold on.” His thrusts become quicker, more urgent, and my body responds, arching against him as all manner of unbelievable sensations surge through me. I’m peppering his face and chest with kisses, clawing at his back and his ass, imploring him to move faster. He chuckles before his expression turns dark and he devours my mouth, riding me hard, and I can’t get enough. I grind against him and things are building inside me again. His entire body trembles, shaking and pulsing as he finds his release, and then I’m there with him.
We lie sated in each other’s arms without speaking for a couple minutes as the magnitude of what we’ve just done sinks in.
He angles his body, lying on his side, and tilts my chin up. “Lina, are you okay?”
I peck his lips, snuggling into him as I smile. “I’m perfect.”
“No regrets?”
I shake my head, smiling again. “Not a single one. I’m glad we did it.” I lace my fingers in his, planting a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw. “I’m glad I did it with you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
The next week drags. School feels empty without Ayden, and his parents have grounded him so I can’t even drop by in the evenings. I take some extra shifts at the diner, purely to pass the time. Having so much free time isn’t good for me—because my mind wanders to places I wish it wouldn’t. I don’t regret sleeping with Ayden, but it’s brought certain feelings to the surface again, and I know I shouldn’t be thinking about Devin, but it’s not that simple to cut someone from your life, especially when they’ve occupied such a huge part of it.
My heart is gloomy again, and I wonder if things will ever become uncomplicated.
Ayden is released from his penance the following Saturday, and we head to the movies with all the gang.
Things return to normal on Monday, but I’m uncharacteristically mute in the Jeep on the drive to school, although Ayd doesn’t appear to notice.
The week is busy with senior portraits, and I’ve signed up for two advanced placement courses to gain some additional credits for college, so I don’t actually see much of Ayden. On Friday night, he travels with his family to visit relatives, and I won’t see him until tomorrow night.
Lucas stays after dinner, for the first time in ages. He’s stretched out on the couch while I’m snuggled under a blanket on the leather recliner. We binge watch Gossip Girl, munching on popcorn. “You know,” I say during the commercial break, “you don’t have to rush off after dinner every night. I miss having you around.”
He snorts. “Sure you do. I don’t think Ayden would appreciate me cramping his style.”
“He’s not here all the time.”
He shrugs. “It’d feel disloyal to Devin.”
“That isn’t anything to do with you.”
He twists around on his stomach, resting his head on his hands. “He’s my brother. I’ve got to have his back. Besides, I’m pissed with Ayden for what he’s done.”
I sigh, tucking my hair behind my ears. “Ayden hasn’t done anything. This is all on Devin.”
“But is it?”
I frown. “What aren’t you saying?”
“Just that you might not have all the facts.”
I sit a little more upright. “Like what? It’s pretty black and white to me, and he’s been with Becky these last seven weeks.” Not that I’m counting or anything.
He cranks out a laugh. “Please don’t tell me you’re buying into that. He hates her.”
My eyebrows climb up to my hairline. “Eh, yeah, I don’t think so.” I’m recalling her loud and very vocal recount in the library of Devin fucking her under the bleachers after school on Wednesday. Unless she’s got him under some hypnotic spell, I
’d say Devin likes her enough. Guess there’s no accounting for taste.
I put my popcorn down, feeling a sudden bout of nausea swim up my throat. I shouldn’t care. I’ve got Ayden, and Devin’s made his own bed.
But, unfortunately, I do.
“I don’t know what’s going on, because he still treats me like I’m a little kid, so he doesn’t confide in me, but I’d bet a hundred bucks that she’s forcing him into this.”
“Can we change the subject? The last thing I want to do is spend my Friday night talking about those two.”
“I know he still cares about you. Like, a lot.”
I childishly block my ears. “Stop, Luc. Please, I’m begging you.”
Reluctantly, he nods, redirecting his attention to the TV.
Later, when I’m tucked up in bed, just before I fall asleep, I think back to Devin’s words from the day of the fight. “She was mine, but you took her anyway,” he’d told Ayden.
She. Was. Mine.
I hate the little well of hope that churns inside me at those words.
And I hate the part of myself that’s still craving that.
Massive guilt comes crashing down on me, and I turn over in the bed, squeezing my eyes shut and willing my heart and my head to just get with the program. I’m happy with Ayden, and Devin has already proven unworthy of me, so why can’t I evict that stupid notion from my mind?
I’m woken from sleep sometime in the early hours of the morning to the sound of raised voices outside. Screams and shouts have me flipping the covers off and racing to my balcony to investigate. Brisk chills accost me the second I open the French doors, and I snatch my robe from the top of my dresser, tying it securely around my waist. The shouts are coming from the front of the house, and I can’t see from here, so I run back into the house, toeing my sneakers on at the front door, and tiptoe outside.
The lights on Devin’s truck are fully on, bathing his house in luminous light. The driver side door is open, hanging off the hinges and trailing the ground. I gasp as I spot the massive dent in the side of the truck. The rear fender is mangled and hanging loose. Flooded with nervous adrenaline, I hop over the fence between our houses and race toward the Morgans’ front door. A massive thud is followed by the sound of wood splintering from the rear of the property, so I run around the side of the house toward the backyard. A door slams shut at the back of the house, and all the windows rattle.
I almost trip over the body on the ground. “Oh my God!”
A low moan rings out as the person curls into a fetal position. I drop down on my knees, clamping a hand over my mouth as my eyes widen. “Oh my God! Devin! Are you okay?” Gingerly, I touch his face, panicking when warm liquid trickles between my fingers.
“Ange?” His speech is garbled, and judging by the pungent smell of whiskey in the air, I’m going to hazard a guess that he’s totally smashed. He reaches out a hand, circling my wrist. “Ange?”
“It’s me. Can you stand? Where does it hurt?”
“Everywhere,” he whispers. “I hurt everywhere.”
“We need to get him out of here,” a voice says from behind, and I almost jump out of my skin. Lucas’s hand clamps over my mouth, muffling my scream.
“Holy fuck, Luc. You scared the shit out of me.”
He slides his arm under Devin, pulling him up. Devin cusses, cradling his ribs as he wraps his arm around his brother’s shoulders. I prop him up on the other side, and together, we manage to get him into my house.
I flick the lights on in the kitchen and pull out a chair. I burst out crying when the true extent of Devin’s injuries is revealed. His face is covered with blood, his hair matted with the stuff. He’s wearing an open gray button-down shirt with a plain white T-shirt underneath, and both are spattered with blood. One sleeve is ripped. He winces as Lucas lowers him into the chair. Drying my eyes, I dash to the sink, filling a bowl with warm water. “Can you get the first aid kit from the bathroom upstairs, please,” I ask Luc over my shoulder.
He nods, sprinting upstairs.
I pull a chair out in front of Devin and sit down, examining his face to see how bad the damage is. “I need to clear away the blood, Dev. This might sting.”
Luc returns to the kitchen, handing the medical box to me. I remove some cotton pads, dip them in the water, and then gently dab at his face. He grips the arms of the chair, but he makes no sound as I slowly and carefully wipe the blood and grime from his face. Bile floods my mouth. “I think you might need stitches,” I admit, eyeing the large gash at his temple. The rest of his face is like a colorful patchwork quilt of contusions and cuts.
“No hospital,” he slurs, his eyes struggling to focus on mine. Lucas starts pacing the floor.
I can’t take him to the hospital like this; he’ll probably get arrested once they confirm he was driving while drunk. Mom should be able to fix him up when she gets in. “Help me get his shirt off,” I ask Luc. “I need to check his ribs.”
Devin sucks in a sharp breath as we strip his shirt and T-shirt off as gently as we can.
“Fuck’s sake,” Lucas hisses, his eyes raking over the bruising along Dev’s left-hand side.
I shake my head, and sudden fury jumps up and bites me. “I can’t believe you drove your truck while you were so hammered! What the hell were you thinking! You could’ve killed yourself or someone else.”
“Don’t be mad, baby doll,” he slurs. “I’ll be okay.”
I extract a couple of pain pills and walk to the sink to fill a glass with water. I deliberately bite my tongue because now isn’t the time to rip him a new one. He’s still totally wasted, and I’d rather save it for morning. “Open your mouth.” I curl his hand around the glass and pop the pills in his mouth. Lifting the glass to his lips, I tip the water in. “Swallow, and do not attempt to make some sleazy remark,” I warn. The corners of Luc’s mouth curve up. “Drink the rest of the water,” I instruct, keeping the glass to Devin’s mouth as I tap out a quick text to Mom.
“Ange, would it be okay if we both stayed here?” Lucas asks with a worried frown. “Dad blew a gasket, and I’d rather not go home.”
“Sure. I know Mom won’t mind.”
He squeezes my shoulder. “Thanks.”
“Don’t touch her,” Devin slurs. “No touching my girl.”
My cheeks turn pink. “Help me with him?” I ask, deliberately ignoring Dev’s statement.
Luc helps me bring him upstairs, undress him to his boxer briefs, and roll him onto the bed. I pull the covers up under his chin, turn off the main light, and switch my beside lamp on instead. I read Mom’s reply before putting my cell aside. “Sleep it off. I’ll stay here. Mom says to wake you every few hours in case you have a concussion. She’ll check on you when she gets home.”
He mumbles something incoherent and proceeds to instantly conk, light snores ripping from his mouth pretty much straightaway.
Lucas sits on the edge of the bed, while I slide under the covers beside Dev, opening my book. “Thanks for looking after him.”
“I couldn’t not do anything. Not when he’s hurt.”
“I’m really worried about him. He’s worse since he stopped hanging with you and Ayden. It’s a miracle he didn’t crash his truck before now.”
“He does this a lot?”
Lucas hangs his head. “All the time. He’s always drunk, high, or hungover.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Couldn’t you guys make up? Maybe he’ll listen to you. All he does is tell me to mind my own business when I try to talk to him.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“I understand,” he says, looking like the weight of the world is on his shoulders, and a pang of sadness hits me square in the chest.
I get out of bed, and hug him. “It’ll be okay, and I’ll talk to him in the morning. I don’t know if it’ll do any good
, but I’ll try.”
I do my best to stay awake, but when my eyelids start drooping, I set the alarm on my phone and curl up under the covers. Devin hasn’t even budged position, and except for the rise and fall of his chest, and the intermittent snores, I would worry he wasn’t breathing. I place my hand softly on his back, noticing the faded bruising mingling with fresher ones. Tears prick my eyes as I watch the boy sleeping beside me, hating how much I still love him, but at the same time happy I do, because Devin needs someone to love him, and I’d rather it be me. Even if it’s from afar.
The irritating buzzing of my cell wakes me a few hours later. I reach my hand out, turning it off as I brush strands of my messy hair out of my face. My body’s like a furnace, and my pajama top is plastered to my back. Devin is wrapped around me like a baby koala, and my chest tightens painfully.
A light cough captures my attention, and I lift my eyes, locking on Mom’s razor-sharp gaze. She’s sitting in a chair by Devin’s side, still in her hospital uniform. “You need to wake him.”
“Dev,” I whisper, placing my hand on his arm. “Wake up.”
He grumbles in his sleep, snuggling closer to me. The arm swathed across my stomach moves a little higher, brushing the underside of my breasts. My cheeks turn hot. I shake him a little more firmly this time. “Dev. Can you hear me?” He presses fully against me, and my skin flares up at the tell-tale hardness pushing against my leg. Lordy, could this get any more humiliating. “Dev!” I hiss, more urgently. “Wake up!”
His eyes flutter open, and he smiles when he sees me. “I thought I was dreaming,” he mumbles, his fingers tracing over my face. “Man, you’re so beautiful, Ange. Like that chick whose face launched a thousand ships, only more gorgeous.” He nuzzles my neck. “And you smell fucking divine too.” He inhales loudly, and two red spots darken my cheeks.
Mom struggles to contain her grin.
“Eh, Dev. We have company. You might want to tone it down a notch or ten.”
Mom clears her throat, getting up and leaning over the bed. “I need to check you over.”
Inseparable Page 16