The Last Word

by Everly Lucas

  The Last Word

  Everly Lucas

  Copyright © 2019 by Everly Lucas

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses or establishments, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Credits

  Proofreader: Judy @ Judy’s Publishing

  Cover design: Everly Lucas

  Created with Vellum

  For the beautiful boy from homeroom, who never got his chance to leave Long Lane.

  How to Wear a Claddagh Ring

  Taken from https://www.celtic-weddingrings.com

  Single: You should wear the ring on your right hand with the heart facing outwards.

  Relationship: You should wear it on your right hand with the heart pointed inwards.

  Engaged: You wear it on your left hand with the heart pointing outwards.

  Married: You wear it on your left hand with the heart facing inward.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Last Word Recipe

  Also by Everly Lucas

  Acknowledgments

  Bonus Content

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  About the Author

  One

  I won’t survive this night.

  Erin Kenny is beautiful twenty-four hours a day, every damn day of the week, but tonight…tonight she’s a princess. No, she’s more than that. She’s a goddess, and all us unworthy mortals are just lucky to be close to someone so perfect and untouchable.

  Well, more untouchable than usual. In fact, touching her might cost me one or both my hands. Or worse. At least, that’s the threat Danny issued back in the sixth grade, after I told him I planned to marry Erin someday. He’d chucked his game controller to the floor and said, “Go near my little sister, and I’ll chop off body parts you don’t wanna lose.”

  That wasn’t all. His threat was multi-layered, long-winded, and laced with words Mrs. Kenny would’ve beat his ass for saying.

  I was a lonely kid, and Danny was my best friend. Backing off felt like the only option. We played Grand Theft Auto the rest of the night, and I never brought it up again.

  If Danny could read my thoughts now, I’d be a dead man.

  That dress, though… Damn. The top part is tight—a hell of a lot tighter than the t-shirts and hoodies Erin usually wears—but the bottom doesn’t know what it wants to be. Part of it is long and see-through, with a slit up to her left hip. Under that, a tiny skirt hugs her thighs and barely covers them.

  I’ve seen her legs before, but never like this. Definitely never in heels. If I had, I would’ve slipped up and kissed her a long time ago.

  Kissed her again, that is.

  With any other girl, that split-second peck on the lips six years ago wouldn’t count for shit. But Erin Kenny isn’t any other girl. One peck from her counts more than every kiss, suck, and fuck I’ve had since then.

  Not that it matters. She’s been doing all that stuff with another guy since her freshman year. A guy who plays quarterback on our football team. A guy who learned to keep his fucking mouth shut about Erin in the locker room after he cracked his jaw on Danny’s fist. A guy who has his hands on Erin’s ass right now and knows what she tastes like…all over.

  Rob Haney plants a kiss on her cheek and leaves her in the middle of the dance floor, grinning her gorgeous ass off. Bouncing on the balls of her feet, she surveys the room, her eyes landing on the other dancers, the glitter-covered tarp protecting the gym floor, and the tall paper-mache trees with white string lights wrapped around their trunks and branches.

  She shines. Glows. This might not be her senior prom, but this is definitely her night. She owns it. She fucking owns me.

  I watch her from the back of the room, leaning against the painted concrete wall with my hands in the pockets of my tuxedo pants. The date I’d lined up for tonight canceled last minute, but I can’t say I mind. Without some chick dragging me around and demanding my attention, I’m free to stare at Erin as much as I want. Even Danny won’t catch me…what’s the word? Covet. He won’t catch me coveting his sister. He’s too busy groping his girl to notice anything besides the massive tits in his hands.

  After a few minutes of standing by herself, waiting, Erin’s shine dulls and her smile slips.

  Not on my watch.

  I straighten and push off the wall, but before I can take a single step, her head turns in my direction. Her bounce is back, and she straight-up skips as she weaves through the mass of dancing bodies on her way to me.

  I tug at the sleeves of my crisp, white dress shirt and glide my tongue across my lips to wet them. Not that they need to be wet. They won’t be kissing her.

  When she reaches me, she hops up and throws her arms around my neck. The force of her hug shoves me back against the wall, and my arms close around her, holding her as close as possible without stepping out of friend territory.

  Her hair smells like sweet apples. I choke back a groan and set her on her feet.

  With her lips curved in a warm smile, she adjusts my black tie until it hangs straight, the backs of her fingers brushing against my chest through my shirt. I’m lucky the gym lights are too low for her to see the heat creeping up my neck and flooding my cheeks.

  Stepping back, she checks me out, from my fresh cut to my polished shoes. “Huh. Who knew?”

  “Who knew what?” I fidget as she continues to examine me like I’m some exhibit in a museum—Jock Posing as a Gentleman. Who do I think I’m fooling, dressing up like this? The shirt is over-starched, the jacket sleeves are too tight, and my pants chafe at my legs. I’ve never felt less in my element than I do in this tux.

  “That you could look so handsome.”

  Oh.

  As soon as the words slip from her shiny, pink lips, we lock eyes and time stops.

  We’ve had moments like this before, where I’ll forget to blink while I stare at her and try to work out how far I should read into something she’s said. Then she’ll smack my arm and ask me where I zoned out to, and I’ll feel like a tool for overanalyzing a handful of words that clearly meant nothing to her.

  She hasn’t smacked my arm yet.

  With the pounding bass, over-the-top decorations, formal clothes, and dim lighting, Erin and I are in a different world. A different reality—one where she thinks I’m handsome and touches my chest. Everything outside the tucked-away space she’s in with me is total bullshit. None of it matters.

  I twirl one of her pale-blonde curls around my finger and release it, letting it bounce back like a spring. “And you look like a princess.”

  Her teeth sink into her bottom lip as she watches her own fingers slip under my lapel, and it’s a certified miracle I don’t nut in these rented pants. My dick is hard as a fucking rock, though. There ain’t shit I can do about that, except pray it’s not too obvious.

  I’m asking her to dance.

  Fuck Rob. Fuck Danny. In three months, I leave for Penn State, and I don’t plan on c
oming back. Danny and I got our golden tickets out of Long Lane—the asscrack of Upper Darby, just west of Philly. Full rides for both of us. Football for me, track for him.

  But Erin can’t come with us. Not yet. She and Danny are Irish twins, born ten months apart, and she missed the cutoff to be in our grade by a whopping three days.

  Danny’s psyched to finally get some space from his little sister.

  I wish I could pack her in my trunk and take her with me.

  So, yeah, I need this dance. I want one moment of pretending she’s mine. “Dance with me.”

  She flinches, and she’s not subtle about it, either.

  What the fuck was I thinking? In her mind, I’m as much a brother to her as Danny is. I’ve tortured her with spitballs, teased her when she got her first zit, and made slingshots out of her training bras. Of course, she’s repulsed by the idea of having me touch her in any kind of non-brotherly way.

  Her hands ball into fists and land on her hips. She’s in fight mode. Fuck. “Just like that, huh?”

  “Just like what?” I swear, she never comes right out with whatever it is she wants to say. She likes to make me work for it…and almost always makes me regret it.

  “‘Dance with me.’” She tries to mimic my deep voice and doesn’t come close. “You’re so freaking bossy.” One of her fists taps my stomach. Well, not a tap, exactly, since she leaves it there.

  My abs clench because, with her hand just inches from my cock, my body has no fucking clue how to handle itself. Especially when she’s in the middle of rejecting me.

  “If you don’t want to, that’s—”

  “No!” Her hand flies from my stomach to twist the gold claddagh she wears on her right ring finger—a nervous tick she’s had ever since Mrs. Kenny handed the family heirloom down to her. “I didn’t say that. But you could’ve, you know, asked instead of ordering me around. Just because you look like Boris freaking Kodjoe in that tux doesn’t mean I’ll do whatever you say. You’re not the boss of me.”

  “Are you done?”

  “For now.”

  “Good. Erin Finola Kenny—”

  “Ugh. You know I hate my middle name.”

  “—would you do me the immense honor of dancing with me?”

  Her three seconds of silence slaughter me, until she relaxes from her combat-ready stance. “That’s better. It would be my pleasure, Donovan Rudiger Woods.”

  She holds out her hand, and I take it, hoping she won’t notice how damp my palm is. She’s mid-pivot when I spot Rob across the room, deep-throating some skank with his tongue.

  Tightening my grip on Erin, I tug her back to me and try to keep the panic off my face. “Let’s just dance here.”

  “Why?”

  Good question. Think fast, Van. “Because…um…I don’t want Rob getting jealous.” His name tastes like venom in my mouth, and I fight the urge to spit it out.

  She rolls her eyes. “Why would he be jealous? He knows you and I are just friends.”

  Ouch.

  She tries again to lead me to the dance floor and huffs out an exasperated breath when I stay rooted to my spot. “Why are you acting so weird?” With a sharp tug, her hand slips free of my sweaty grasp as she spins away from me. “I’m going back out there. You can follow me if you—”

  Oh, fuck. She sees it. Her body freezes, except for those fists forming again and shaking with rage.

  Erin throws punches as hard as any guy I know, and her temper is as vicious as her brother’s. As much as I’d love to hang back and watch her beat the crap out of Rob, I’d hate to see her get in trouble over that worthless motherfucker.

  But she doesn’t charge at him. Without looking back at me, she veers left and bolts for the nearest exit.

  My inner rabid guard dog wants to rip Rob Haney to shreds with my teeth, starting with his cheating prick. The rest of me is already halfway out the door, chasing after Erin.

  I find her around the corner from the main entrance, sitting on the wide steps of the jungle gym used by the school’s daycare. With her face buried in her hands, I can’t tell if she’s crying, but I know she’s hurting. Moving with caution, I claim the spot next to her and tuck her under my arm.

  She curls up to my side with her head on my shoulder and her fingers clutching at my jacket.

  “Are you okay?” I ask. She nods, but I don’t buy it. “He’s an idiot, you know.”

  Her head pops up. “No, I’m the idiot. It’s not like I don’t hear the rumors or what my friends whisper behind my back when they think I’m not listening.”

  Danny busted my balls for wearing the pocket square that came with this tux, but as I use it now to dry the tears spilling down Erin’s cheeks and wipe away her smudged makeup, I couldn’t fucking care less what he thinks.

  “I don’t even know why I’m still with him. We barely talk anymore. The only times we go out it’s so he can get drunk with his friends, and all he wants to do with me is make out.”

  If Erin weren’t in my arms, Rob Haney would be minus one dick right now. But no way am I letting her go. I have to ask her… “Do you love him?”

  She glances down at her right hand and takes a slow, deep breath before sliding the claddagh ring off her finger. Meeting my eyes again, she whispers, “No. I never loved him.”

  Before I can process her answer, her lips are on mine. Then they’re gone, and my head is left spinning, my heart racing.

  What the…?

  Her eyes bug out, and she slaps her hand over her mouth. “I’m so sorry, Van. I have no idea why I did that. I know you don’t see me that way, and you’re only being nice, but I—”

  “I see you that way, Erin.” Fuck, it feels good to finally get that off my chest. “I have for a long time. But do you…?”

  “You seriously don’t know?”

  “Know what?” I ask and wince when her bony little fist punches my shoulder. “Ow. What the fuck was that for?”

  “I’ve had a crush on you for pretty much ever, asshole. That time we kissed, when we were little? I spent that whole night scribbling ‘I heart Van’ all over my binder. I’d convinced myself I was your girlfriend and we’d be together forever. But the next day, you acted like nothing happened. Do you have any clue how heartbroken I was?” She hits my shoulder again, but with less force this time. “God, you’re such a jerk, because I can’t get over you, and I’d hate the crap out of you if I didn’t love you so much.”

  My gut twists into knots as her words hang in the air between us, and I do that thing again, where I stare at her and try to process what she said.

  I never meant to hurt her. We were just kids, and it’s not like she ever brought it up, either. In my young, stupid head, I figured if I ignored it, it’d go away. And it did.

  She avoids my stare, focusing instead on yanking pins out of her hair and letting the curls spill over her shoulders. They shine like platinum in the moonlight. I can’t help myself; I run my fingers through the strands. Somehow I knew Erin Kenny’s hair would be the softest thing I’ve ever touched. “You love me?”

  Without looking at me, she nods.

  Before I can second-guess myself, I cradle her face in my hands, holding her still as I steal a kiss of my own. Six years of holding back, of keeping my distance, of watching her date other guys and wishing it were me—it all goes into this three-second kiss. Then I pull back because I need to know if we’re on the same page here. If she’s diving in head-first, too.

  Oh man, does she dive. She dives deep, slamming her mouth back onto mine.

  The power in her kiss is too much. Everything about Erin is too much, in the best way possible. My arms find their way around her body, lifting her and setting her on my lap. Hers circle my neck as she trembles in my hands. I realize I’m trembling, too.

  This shit is intense and so fucking unexpected. Not a damn thing in my life prepared me for feeling so much all at once. But fuck it. I don’t care if I’m not ready right this second. I’ll make myself ready. I�
�ll do anything to keep her, now that I have her.

  Leaving her sweet mouth, I trail my tongue down the length of her neck, tasting her goosebumps as they form across her skin. Erin whimpers and clutches my shoulders, emboldening me to go further, to allow one of my hands to travel over her hip and brush aside her long, gauzy skirt to reach her bare thighs. I tease the hem of the shorter skirt with my thumb, skimming the edge of where the silky fabric meets even silkier skin.

  I need more of her. I need all of her.

  I slide my entire hand under her skirt, coaxing a gasp from Erin’s glistening lips as I inch my way closer and closer to the only pussy I’ve ever ached for. The only pussy I want to taste, to worship, to sink deep inside, for the rest of my fucking life.

  Her panties are soaked. The flesh beneath them is hot and slick. Knowing I did that to her, that she’s wet for me, I let out a satisfied groan and reclaim her mouth in a possessive kiss. Mine.

  There’s still a part of me waiting for Erin to tear her lips away. To push my hand out from between her legs. To take back everything she’s said tonight and tell me she doesn’t love me. Instead, she straddles me, bracketing my hips with her knees. Her mouth never leaves mine as her small hands go for my waist. In seconds, she has my fly down and my hard cock in her tight grasp.

  Holy shit. Is this real life right now? Or am I about to wake up in bed with a load of jizz in my boxer briefs, struggling to hold on to every detail of the best wet dream of my life?

  Breaking our kiss, I lean back and drink in the sight of this girl I grew up with. I thought I knew every one of her looks, from giddy to relaxed, skeptical to seriously pissed off. But I’ve never seen her turned on. Never seen her ready to pounce, to fuck. Her lips are swollen, her curls are pure chaos, and her eyes are wild and filled with lust. When her lips curve into a sexy, devious smile, I have to fight to catch my breath, so I can finally tell her what I feel—what I’ve always felt—with every piece of my soul. “I love you so fucking much.”