Текст книги "Lies Unspoken "

Автор книги: Lisa DeJong

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Dana pulls in front of our building, shifting the car into park. “Umm, has an elevator been installed since the last time I was here?”

I groan, not having thought about how I’m going to get him up the stairs until now. “Unfortunately, no.”

She crawls out, coming to open my door. “You know this is going to suck, don’t you?”

“Yep,” I answer, carefully lifting his head from my lap.

I start to climb out but not before Blake grabs hold of my wrist. “Wait for me. I got this.”

With doubt, I step out onto the curb and wait. He’ll probably fall flat on his face the second his foot hits the ground, but it’s not like I’m going to be able to pull him from the car when he’s like this.

To my surprise, he makes it out, standing on his own two feet. For security, I wrap his arm around my shoulders in order to balance his weight against me.

“I’ll walk behind you in case he starts to fall backward,” Dana says as she locks up the car.

“You realize you’re not going to be able to catch him, don’t you?”

“It gives me purpose.”

I laugh at her ridiculousness but keep moving up the first flight of stairs. It’s not so bad—his legs almost keep up with mine.

“Let me know if you want to trade,” Dana chimes from behind us.

Blake beats me to answering her. “Not a chance.”

When we finally reach the door, he leans against the wall while I dig out my key. He looks as if he’s falling asleep—eyes shut, shoulders falling forward. I motion for Dana to hold the door so I can get him inside.

“Do you want me to stay?” she asks.

“No, I got it. I’ll give you a call tomorrow. Thank you for everything.”

She hugs me. “I’d tell you to have a good night, but that would be stupid.”

I want to laugh and cry at the same time. Instead, I push all the feelings away and watch her walk out the door. It’s only then that I feel completely, utterly lost. No idea what I’m doing or where to go from here. This guy who I think I love is half passed out beside me. Alcohol chased his worries away, but there’s no way to escape mine.

I usher him to his room, letting him fall onto his unmade bed with his feet hanging over the edge. I carefully pull off his shoes and slide the comforter up over his shoulders. Watching him lying there motionless makes my heart twist in ways it shouldn’t. I can’t stand it. Slowly I back away, flicking off the light before going to close the door.

“Don’t go,” he whispers, rolling to his side.

“You need to sleep.”

“Sleep with me.”

Just like so many other times since I’ve met him, I open my mouth to argue but can’t find the words. Instead, I slip off my shoes and climb in next to him . . . where I’ve wanted to be.

WHEN I WAKE, IT TAKES ME a few seconds to adjust to my surroundings. I’m in my apartment but not my bed. My warm down comforter has been replaced with a heavy, muscled arm. The smell of fabric softener is masked with stale alcohol.

Looking back, I see Blake fast asleep. He looks so peaceful and innocent. His long lashes make me want to kiss him, especially the lids of his eyes.

I shift underneath him, attempting to roll onto my stomach to get a better look. It backfires—he startles, lifting his arm from my waist. For a moment, I lie quietly, selfishly hoping he’ll wrap his strong arm back around me. Instead, the bed shifts, and I hear his feet padding across the wood floor. The bathroom door opens.

I debate whether I should lay here and see if he comes back to me, or if I should cut my losses and disappear into my room. Then I remember my promise to myself to not let this happen again.

Blake steps out of the bathroom then starts opening and closing dresser drawers. All I can do is sit up and watch.

The muscles in his back tense as if he can feel my eyes on him. I want to go to him and wrap my arms tightly around him. If he’d let me, I’d never let him go.

After coming out of the last drawer empty handed, he stands stiffly with his hands on his hips. “Lila.” His tone is sharp, and instantly, I know I’m just another regret. A seed of misery plants itself in my stomach. “I need you to go.”

I wrap my arms around my folded knees, otherwise unmoving. “Can we talk first?”

I hear him breathing. His jaw ticks. “Did you hear a single word I said last night?”

“That’s why I want to talk,” I admit, hugging myself tighter.

He forces a laugh, poking his tongue into his cheek. “I’m leaving for a few days. I don’t know exactly when I’ll be back.”

I jump off his bed, anger boiling over. “That’s it? I told you if you did this again . . . if you leave when things get tough, this is over.” I try to keep my distance, but my increasing frustration won’t allow it. He needs to see me . . . see what he does to me with his hot and cold routine.

“I was drunk,” he seethes, gritting his teeth.

I groan out of frustration. “Not at Navy Pier. Not when you spilled a bunch of crap about falling for me. Not when you told me you were married. Can we talk about that for a second? I need a little consolation that I’m not your side piece being kept at your fuck pad.”

He pushes past me, grabbing a duffel bag from the floor. He walks around me like I’m not even here, throwing two drawers of clothes into it.

“Blake, please don’t go.” A tear slides down my cheek as I stand in the middle of his room. I’m tired of the back and forth. I’m tired of him running when he starts to feel too much. He doesn’t realize he’s making me feel worse along the way.

He zips the bag, throwing it over his shoulder. He starts walking out the door, but then changes his mind, coming back to me. “I meant what I said about trying to figure out what this thing is between us.”

He starts to walk away again. “How is that ever going to happen if you leave whenever things don’t go your way?”

My words stop him. “Nothing has gone my way in almost three years. Whether I’m here or not, that’s not going to change until I get my shit straightened out.”

He’s going to leave.

And, I’m going to have to let him go—forever.

He’s almost out the door.

And, I’m out of my mind.

“Blake!”

He breaks stride but then keeps going. Try harder, Lila . . . if you really want this. “Blake! I can’t keep doing this. If you walk out that door, I’m leaving, and I’m not coming back.”

That gets his attention. He turns back around.

I stand silently, reading the pain in his tired eyes. It’s hard to stay mad at someone with that much visible ache.

He walks toward me. “I’ve spent weeks trying to convince myself I don’t want you. When I leave . . . when I paint . . . you’re all I think about.” He comes closer, skimming his thumbs over my cheeks. My eyes close in an attempt to hold in tears. “I can’t give you everything you want . . . not yet . . . but I need you here with me.”

“Why? Why do you need me, Blake? Tell me,” I cry.

“Because, without you, it hurts to feel. All the bad memories—the nightmares—they’re suffocating me. You steal them away, Lila. Don’t you understand? You give me good memories to cover the bad ones.” He wipes my tears away while staring down into my eyes.

If it were that simple—if I didn’t have my own bad memories—I’d be putty in his hands. “Then stay. Let me help you.”

“I don’t know, Lila. I just don’t know.”

I throw my hands up in frustration. “What do you want from me?”

“To be your friend, for now.”

“And if that’s not enough?”

He moves his face closer to mine. “Then I guess I’ll need to work through my shit a little sooner.”

I want to believe in him . . . in every word he says. “Can I ask a question?”

“I’ll answer anything if it’ll make you stay.”

“How does Pierce know Alyssa?” I ask, knowing I’m the one with the upper hand.

His hands fall from my face. I think he might just walk away, but he doesn’t. He shakes his head, staring down at his feet. “I can’t do this now. I—”

I shake my head. “No. You can’t keep doing this to me. Either you tell me now, or I’m leaving. ”

He glances back up at me, eyes glossed over. “Alyssa’s maiden name was Stanley. She’s Pierce’s sister.”

Shock rips through me. Knowing Blake and Pierce, I’d imagined some complex love triangle—one guy taking the other guy’s girl—but not this. Why was this a secret? “And why does he hate you so much?”

He winces, combing his fingers through his hair. “He doesn’t think I did right by her.”

“Is he right?”

“If I were in his shoes, I’d probably agree.”

My selfish need screams for me to push him further, but common sense pulls me back. If the past is a predictor of the future, he’ll run, and I might not see him again. “If you leave again, I’m done.”

“I don’t want to leave you.”

“Then don’t,” I answer, the tears starting to dry up. “Does this mean you’re staying? Besides, Christmas is in two days, and I wasn’t looking forward to spending it alone.”

He wraps his arms tightly around me. “I’m not going anywhere.”

MONDAY MORNING COMES TOO SOON, but it’s okay when I realize I’m wrapped in two strong arms in a nice, warm bed. Even better, it’s Christmas Eve, which means I have the next two days off.

Blake feels me shift and pulls me further into him. We talked most of the day yesterday, cleared most of the skeletons from the closet. We can only go forward from here. I let him know what I need, and he promised to stay. It can only get better from here.

His lips press to my neck, sending a tingle down my spine. “Good morning.”

“Morning.”

His hand slips under my T-shirt, tracing small circles around my belly button. “I like waking up with you in my arms.”

“I like waking up in your arms,” I admit. It’s the best sleep I’ve had in a long time.

“I forgot to ask you yesterday . . . what are we doing tomorrow, for Christmas?”

“Mallory and I were going to Skype and watch A Christmas Story.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“That would be a stupid thing to lie about.”

“Look,” he says, brushing his thumb along my hip. “Pencil me in. We’ll order a pizza and watch a real Christmas movie.”

I smile. “There is no other Christmas movie.”

“We’ll see about that,” he says, kissing the back of my neck again.

After a few moments, he starts to drift back to sleep as I cozy into him. Falling asleep in his arms last night was nice. No sex. No arguments or hurt feelings. It was just us being us for the first time.

When I’m convinced I won’t fall back asleep, I slide out of his arms. I make myself some coffee and curl up on the end of the couch, enjoying a rare peaceful morning. The holidays are a time to look back, and this year has certainly given me plenty to think about. I have so much to be thankful for.

“Hey,” Blake mumbles, stepping out of the bedroom. “My bed is cold without you.”

“Sorry. You’re welcome to join me,” I say, patting the spot next to me.

“Breakfast . . . I can’t live without my breakfast.”

“I guess you’re allowed since I’m awake,” I tease, watching him rummage through the refrigerator. He fries eggs while I watch the snow fall outside. If this is domestication, sign me up.

“I kind of wish I’d gone home for Christmas,” I say when he finally joins me on the couch after breakfast. He brings a full box of chocolate-covered cherries with him. I’m happy being here with him, but it’s not the same.

“What would you be doing now, if you were home?”

I smile, thinking about sitting at the table, watching Mom prepare dinner while she hums her favorite holiday music. “I’d probably be helping Mom in the kitchen and then talk Dad’s ear off while he attempts to watch football.”

He raises an eyebrow. “And you miss that?”

“Yeah, I do.” It’s not like Nebraska is a rare diamond that can’t be found anywhere else. It’s just where my heart is. “Why didn’t you go home?” I ask, curious.

He shrugs. “Since Mallory wasn’t coming home, my parents decided to go to Hawaii. I really can’t do Christmas in a Speedo. Besides, the holidays aren’t the same without snow.”

“I’m the same way. I think one of the things I miss most is our house—the way it looks when it’s covered in snow. It’s beautiful this time of year.” I stand, setting my coffee on the table. “Let me grab a picture so you can see what I’m talking about.”

I pull the scrapbook from my nightstand and hand it to Blake. Pages don’t have to be turned because it’s front and center on the cover. “It sort of reminds me of the mountain cabin my parents used to take us to in Colorado,” he remarks, running his finger along the photo’s edges.

“I thought I was a city girl at heart, but the longer I’m away, the more I wonder if there’s any truth to that.”

He studies the photo for a second longer then looks up at me through his thick lashes. “It’s not the place you miss; it’s the people. When it comes down to it, they’re all that matters.”

“When did you start writing for Hallmark?”

He grins, sliding my scrapbook off his lap. “You think my thoughts are worth a greeting card?”

“They’re worth something.”

His eyes search mine, the way he looks at me pulling at my heart like a magnet. I want so badly to kiss him, to let his lips erase all the bad and remind me of when things were good. It’s one thing we haven’t done yet. This whole taking it slow thing sucks.

We watch a couple movies, laughing a lot along the way.

“Are you getting hungry?” he asks, breaking the spell.

“Eating something besides chocolate would be good.”

“I’m going to jump in the shower quick. Why don’t you order Chinese?” he suggests.

“Anything in particular?”

He laughs. “I’ll let you have your way since it’s Christmas Eve.”

“How kind of you,” I say as I watch him walk away.

“Don’t say I didn’t give you anything!” he yells as he disappears into his bedroom.

I order the Chinese and settle back into my spot on the couch. As I look toward the window, I’m surprised to see the snow falling harder. Oversized flakes stick to the glass. It’s the kind of quiet view that let’s you pretend you’re anywhere. Not that there’s anywhere else I’d rather be right now.

Laying my head against the back of the couch, I listen to the shower run in the distance. I wonder if Blake thinks of me while the warm water washes over his body like I’m always thinking of him.

Home Alone plays on mute. Frank Sinatra croons softly through my iPod, drowning out the sound of the shower whenever Frank hits a high note.

I relax.

My mind drifts.

And just as I’m about to fall to sleep, the doorbell rings, causing me to jump. The food is here, and Blake’s not even out of the shower.

“Coming!” I yell, making my way to the door.

When I finally open it, the shock of my life waits on the other side. Pierce is standing there, holding a gift bag in his hand.

“Lila.” His eyes roam the length of my body before coming back up.

“I wasn’t expecting you.”

He grins wide. Sexy. Charming. Pierce. “I didn’t like the thought of you spending the holiday alone.”

I’m not, I think to myself. Shit.

“I brought you something,” he adds, handing me the red and silver bag.

“You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to. Open it.”

I fiddle with the silver ribbon, pulling it loose. Inside is a thermos with NYC scrolled across the center.

He laughs nervously, combing his fingers through his hair. “There’s more. Twist the lid.”

My fingers tremble as I do. The sweet smell hits me as I stare down at whipped cream with a maraschino cherry on top. “Frozen hot chocolate.” He’s so thoughtful I almost want to cry.

“I ordered a whole canister online.” He holds out another bag. “This should get you by until you make it back to New York.”

I set everything down on the counter near the door and throw my arms around his neck. “Thank you.”

He returns the hug, pressing his nose into my hair. “You’re welcome. Hey, I was thinking about going ice-skating in the park. Do you want to join me?”

“What the hell is he doing here?”

I jump at the sound of Blake’s voice. From the look in Pierce’s wide eyes, he’s just as shocked to see Blake as Blake is to see him.

“I stopped by to give her a Christmas present,” Pierce answers for me.

“Fuck off, Stanley. You’ve caused enough trouble as it is.” Blake’s chest rubs against my shoulder, but I don’t dare look back.

“Me?” Pierce shouts, stepping closer so I’m wedged between them. “Look at yourself, Stone. You wouldn’t know the truth if it hit you in the ass.” He looks back down at me. “Did you ask him about her yet?”

I nod, throwing my hands up in the air. “Will you guys please stop? This is ridiculous, and yes, Pierce, he told me about your sister.”

He looks like I slapped him. That wasn’t my intention. I look over my shoulder at Blake, recognizing the familiar fire in his eyes. “Give me two seconds.”

He doesn’t budge. “I’m not going anywhere,” I mouth, hoping only he can hear me.

Blake steps back. “I’m only going to warn you once. Stay away from her.”

I watch Blake disappear into the apartment before turning my attention back to Pierce. The boyish grin he wore a few minutes ago is gone. He’s pissed or confused—maybe both.

“I’m sorry.” It’s all I can say.

“When did he come back?”

“He was here Friday when I got home.”

He flinches. It was the same night he dropped me off. If things were different, if Blake hadn’t come home when he did and opened up, this could all be different. I know it . . . he knows it.

“And now everything’s all better again?”

Tears well in my eyes. “Love allows us to forgive a lot of things.”

He spins around, hands on his hips. He stares at the wall for several quiet seconds, then turns back to me. “Merry Christmas, Lila. I hope you get everything you wished for.”

He walks down the hall, disappearing down the stairs. My heart aches for him, but I have to let him go. I haven’t played fair.

After I have time to catch my breath, I step back into the apartment.

Before I can react, Blake has my back pressed against the wall like he did the first time his lips touched mine. He cups my face in his hands and crashes down on me in the best way. His mouth is hot on mine, melting away the lingering hurt and pain from the last few weeks. It’s possessive, reminding me who I belong to.

He’s a wizard, a god—everything imaginary coming to life.

Shutting my eyes, I soak up every bit of what I’ve missed. They say you don’t know how much you miss something until it’s gone, but it should be you don’t know how much you miss something until it’s gone and then you have it again.

The tip of his tongue presses the seam of my lips, licking and teasing while warm drops of water from his soaked hair hit my skin. It’s the kiss to end all desire for kisses from another.

He sucks my lower lip between his before pulling away. A line is drawn between our eyes. I see I’m sorry. I see promises of never leaving me again. I see everything I’ve been waiting for, but that he couldn’t give me . . . until now.

He clings to me, and my thoughts of Pierce slowly start to disappear. I shouldn’t feel so guilty. I’ve been honest with him every step of the way. I can’t help what my heart wants.

“I don’t want you near him,” he says softly.

“I didn’t know he was coming. I’m sorry.”

Someone clears his throat next to us. “I need to make deliveries to this building more often.” Through all the chaos, we hadn’t noticed the delivery guy standing out in the hall staring at us through the open door.

“I’ll take that,” Blake says, handing him some folded bills. He takes the bag, closing the door before the guy has time to comment any further.

I watch Blake set the bag on the counter. Then he walks past me, locking the deadbolt. When he turns back to me, I can’t help but wonder if he knows how sexy he is—taut muscles, glistening chest.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since last night,” he says.

“What?”

He takes small steps toward me. “Kiss those perfect lips.”

The way he looks at me makes my heart race at a record pace.

His bare feet pad across the floor until the tips of his toes touch mine.

His hands cup my face, staring down at me with those blue eyes. Two fucked up people trying to decide if our hearts could ever beat to the same rhythm. “You’re mine, Lemon Drop.”

I can barely breathe. “I think you already know that.”

He grinds his hips against mine. I whimper. “I want to hear you say it.”

“I’m yours.”

“Again,” he whispers, his lips brushing against my ear. “Make me believe it.”

“I’m yours, Blake. All yours.” The words come out as a plea—one begging him to stop talking and touch me.

He lifts me up. My legs have nowhere to go but around him. His lips trail my neck as he walks us to his bedroom. It feels like forever since we’ve been like this. I think about what’s happened since—where he’s been, where I’ve been.

For the second time tonight, my back is pressed against the wall. His body holds me in place while he pulls my arms from his neck, pinning them above my head. Not having control, not being able to touch him . . . it just turns me on even more. Blake’s never disappointed me when it comes to taking care of my body—he owns it.

He nips at my collarbone then soothes the bite by tracing it with his tongue. “I missed how you taste.”

He trails kisses up my throat to my lips. “And these,” he whispers, kissing me softly, “I’ve missed them too.”

He stares into my eyes, the back of his finger brushing my cheek. “And your skin . . . I love the soft feel of your skin.”

I tighten my legs around him; it’s the only way to express the crazy emotions he’s freed inside me. He reacts, pressing his lips to mine again.

As he kisses me, I rock my hips, creating friction between our bodies. He groans, which just fuels me. “Lila,” he mutters against my lips. “Stop, or we aren’t getting any further than this tonight.”

“Blake,” I pant, needing him . . . wanting him. Tilting my hips toward him again, I elicit another throaty groan.

“That’s it,” he says, wrapping his arms around my waist. He throws me down on the bed, watching me with raw hunger in his eyes while he undoes the button on his jeans. I squirm against his soft cotton comforter, admiring the way the streetlights cast a glow on his well-sculpted body. He’s easy to get lost in, and once I do, I never want to be found. Not by Pierce . . . not by anyone.

When his knee hits the end of the bed, my eyes make their way up, locking with his. Intensity burns like a wildfire between us. I grip the comforter tightly, anticipating his hands on me—the brush of his cool fingertips against my skin.

“Blake.”

He presses two fingers to my lips. “No more talking.”

I wither beneath him, waiting for that moment when I feel the weight of his body on mine. The moment I feel him pressing into me, filling me. It’s the only time when all the other bullshit between us seems to melt away.

He pulls off my leggings in one swift move, leaving me bare, then pulls on my arms to lift me up. Within seconds, we’re facing each other, completely naked. Weeks of memories—some good, some I wish I could erase—flicker in my mind, but I push them all away. The world stops spinning. It’s just me and Blake in this moment.

I want to stay here.

Live here.

To always breathe the air here.

His palm presses to the center of my chest. I feel my heart beating hard against it. And more than that, I feel warmth building within me—inside the cage. Love isn’t easy—no one ever said it would be—but maybe if it withstands this torrential rain, it’s worth fighting for. Not just once. Not until I’m badly bruised, but until my last breath.

Blake is worth it.

He lowers me to the bed slowly with the soft press of his hand. He kisses me, leaving nothing behind. His tongue traces the seam of my lips—exploring and tasting—before dancing its way to mine.

I lift my hips, craving all of him, but he ignores it, kissing his way down my throat. My hands slide up and down his spine, smoothing over his rigid muscles. When his mouth covers my breast, I whimper. The pressure between my legs is undeniable.

“Please,” I whisper. His fingers curl around my head, massaging my scalp. Maybe it was meant to pacify me, but every nerve in my body is lit.

His lips travel lower, trailing toward my stomach, while his hands slip from my hair. His hot mouth covers the pulsing spot between my legs, and his fingertips trace my nipples. It’s sensational overload. It wasn’t enough, and now it’s too much. He alternates between sucking and flicking his tongue against my center.

“Blake,” I moan, reaching for his hair. I hold it between my fingers, pulling it as I lift closer to heaven. And then he pinches my nipples, and I fall apart. He holds me down, his fingers burning into my hips as I scream out his name. The entire way through, he stays with me until all that remains is the rapid drum of my heart.

“That will never get old,” he murmurs as he kisses his way back up my body.

I dig my fingernails into his shoulders. “What?”

“Hearing you scream my name.”

He softly kisses my lips, and without warning, he thrusts into me, filling me in one quick motion. “Tell me he’s never been in you like this.”

I look up into his eyes. He stills above me. “Only you, Blake. Since the day I met you, only you.”

He pushes back in—all the way in. I feel the burn in my chest . . . I love him. On our good days and bad days, I love him.

And this time, it’s different than the others. It’s raw. It’s sensual. It’s two souls searching at the same time, slowly finding their place in this world.

My legs wrap around his waist.

His lips cover every inch of my neck.

I fall apart first, my body squeezing his. He’s only moments behind, filling me. Our bodies tremble as we hold onto each other tightly. Right away, I want to do it all over again.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

I cradle his face in my hands. “For what?”

“For letting you go. For leaving you. The moment I walked out that door tonight and saw you with him, I saw my life without you. I hated every second of it.”

I shut my eyes then open them, staring him straight in the eye. “I won’t leave you unless you leave me first.”

He pulls out of me, rolling to my side and wrapping his arms around me. “I’m not going anywhere.”

A smile curls onto my lips as I rest my arms on his. We lie together, drawing off each other’s warmth, and drift to sleep.