Recompense For Love: Book Three of the Against All Odds Series Page 18

  Is it possible we could be friends again, or explore some type of reconciliation where we’re at least no longer enemies.

  Then, it hits me again…he dropped what he was doing.

  I stop in my tracks, turning to him. “Where’s Ari?”

  “My Aunt came over to hold down the fort tonight. She’s eager to form a relationship with him. She didn’t mind,” he reassures me, seeming to accurately realize my thoughts were headed down the guilt-ridden path.

  I breathe a little easier at that. “Sorry for interrupting your life.”

  Instead of accepting my apology, he chuckles humorlessly. “Sorry for interrupting my life,” he repeats back to himself.

  “I don’t see what’s so amusing to you.” I wrench the throw blanket off my shoulders, laying it out on the ground as I consider laying back and staring at the stars when this entire conversation goes south and sends him storming off. Which, from the sound of it, will be in a few short minutes.

  “Not a damn thing,” his voice is thick with resentment, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why.

  “Well it sure seems like something to me. Please, go ‘head an enlighten me as to how my words, my apology, is so damn amusing to you.”

  His eyes narrow as he watches me thoughtfully, but he finally resolves to speak. “You’ve always interrupted my life…my plans. My desires even…You never cared before, so why should you now?” That last part sounds like a repeat of what I said to him in the bar last week, when he acted peeved about the “new friend” I’d made.

  “What the hell does that even mean, Nash? How can someone even interrupt plans and desires?”

  “Fuck if I know. Why don’t you ask yourself that question?”

  I shrink back from the personal attack. “Excuse me? You’re the one who chose to cut ties with me. Practically turned me into your personal punching bag. I’ve paid for my father’s mistakes a hundred times over, yet, here we are.” I motion to the property around us—Knightley property, my property.

  “You’re here at my house. You’re encroaching on my life, yet you have the nerve to say I’ve interrupted yours?” I ask incredulously, before demanding, “Let me ask you something.”

  “Be my guest,” he grumbles.

  “Did I ask you to come here tonight?”

  Hesitantly, he replies. “Well, no.”

  I arch an eyebrow, a silent see… “So who interrupted whose life, then? And I interrupted your desires? Ha. Kind of hard to do when the other person doesn’t desire you at all…”

  A large palm wraps around my arm, holding me in place when I try to stomp off.

  “What’s that supposed to mean? You damn well know you’re attracted to me. When your hands were on me back at the house…it was kind of hard to hide.” He sounds less confident and more like he’s trying to convince himself of the fact.

  I shake my head, slapping my palm over his chest to keep him from getting too close. “Not at all what I meant, Ponyboy. I was saying you don’t—didn’t, whatever—desire me. Ever. So it’s kind of hard to interfere somewhere I don’t have any footing.”

  Even in the dim lighting, the tick of his jaw is obvious, as is the burning glint in his eyes. He takes a step forward, but I push at him. He pulls me toward him, locking me in place, but I still try to retreat, taking another step backward despite knowing he’ll come with me.

  My spine hits the trunk of a tree—the trunk of our tree—just as he releases me. I think about making a run for it, but he reads my intention. Two palms come to rest on each side of my body and he leans his weight into his hands. We’re now inches apart, so close I can smell the scent of juniper and sandalwood emanating off him.

  “I’m not attracted to you, huh?” His voice comes off threatening, which makes a whole lot of sense considering he’s always been the biggest threat there is out there. At least to me.

  I hold my breath, fearful I won’t be able to control the volume of the ragged inhales and jagged exhales. He doesn’t have a hold on me anymore. I’ve trained myself not to care. I chant this over and over again to myself hoping it’ll miraculously come true.

  Still waiting, he arches a brow irritably, clearly exasperated I’ve yet to answer his question.

  I give a tentative shake of the head.

  “Never been attracted to you at all, you say?”

  Another brief shake.

  “Ever?”

  “Never,” I whisper in agreement.

  His nostrils flare as we engage in a stare-off showdown of epic proportions.

  He leans even closer, his muscular thigh sliding between my legs in the same movement. I swallow, but say nothing, too shocked to make any decisions requiring anything more out of me than basic bodily functions. Breathe in, and out.

  His raspy voice breaks through the moment. “Do you know why I’ve always called you Stars?”

  I shrug, trying desperately to feign confidence. “That’s easy. Probably because my first name, Lyra, and my middle name, Andromeda, are constellations. They literally have something to do with stars.”

  He shoots me a self-assured smirk that makes my legs go weak. “Wrong.” Despite being enveloped in darkness, his green eyes burn strong and bright like a section of the northern lights are reflected in them as he stares, piercing through my defenses. Can he see what’s going on inside my head? I almost get distracted—very nearly lose my train of thought. Luckily, I’m too intrigued for a diversion, even if it does come wrapped in a six-foot, four-inch, frustratingly fuckable packaging.

  “Why then?” My breathless voice comes out a whisper, barely registering louder than the whirring of the nearby creek. For a moment, I’m sure my question is lost to him; whisked away into the darkness and buried there. But then, he leans in, his soft lips brushing against my cheek and causing me to shudder before he pauses at the shell of my ear.

  “Because—when I was younger—my mom always told me I looked at you with stars in my eyes.” His words are a caress, coming out gruff and low as he seems to confess the secret I was never meant to discover. He called me Stars all these years. It felt intimate, the erroneous assumption it was because of my real name. But not nearly as intimate as the truth.

  Not knowing what to say to that, I choose to remain silent. His eyes slowly drift over my shoulder, staring at nothing but seeing something at the same time. He’s lost in thought for one long moment before his gaze drifts back to my face. “Do you remember that day you wore that red swimsuit, and we came here, to this very tree and went swimming and then for ice-cream? You had just come back from vacation with Nana Rose the day before…”

  Immediately, the memory comes flooding back. “Yeah, and you told me you knew about my romance novels…” He nods. “What about it?”

  “I also told you I knew you had a tiny crush on Miles Huntley, but I had a suspicion you liked someone else. Maybe even more,” he trails off.

  “So much more,” I whisper the agreement before I can stop myself, although I still don’t understand what he’s getting at.

  His gaze hardens.

  “That was the first time I ever realized I was attracted to you. But who was the guy?” He demands.

  “Why you wanna know?” I shift against him, trying desperately to get comfortable when all I feel is restless anticipation. “Especially after all these years? Thought you’d have figured it out by now. You certainly seemed sure you would back then,” I laugh playfully, but all teasing dies away when he leans into me, his forehead millimeters away from touching mine.

  “Tell me,” he orders through gritted teeth.

  “It really still bothers you?” I pop a brow.

  “Fuck yes. I want—need,” he quickly corrects, “to know.”

  I smirk. “Does it keep you up at night all these years later—this answer you never figured out?” My palms slide up his chest, each one settling at the curve of his neck.

  He glares at me with a turned-down mouth. “I wouldn’t say keeps me up at night, but yea
h, it irks the fuck out of me.”

  The admission makes me throw my head back, and it lands against the trunk as I laugh.

  He leans completely against me now, his body one hard slat of hard muscle pressed against my front. His lips find my ear again as he growls. “Don’t toy with me, Stars.”

  I giggle good-naturedly. “Boys aren’t the brightest are they?” I muse aloud, and he huffs in frustration, the breath against my ear making my spine tingle, but even though I’m nervous as hell to be this close, the lack of eye contact gives me a little bravery. “I don’t know how you didn’t see what was right in front of you. Hell, you practically answered your own question that day. I was sure you knew who it was, and were just flaunting it around to make me all nervous.”

  “Who?” he drawls out slowly, his patience wearing thin. “Who did you go around trying to impress, knowing we probably wouldn’t run into him, but needing the assurance you’d be looking your best just the same?”

  “Oh, I had my reasons. And I ran into him alright…”

  Nash pulls back to stare at me blankly, save for the pinching at the edges of his eyes, the way his expression always gets when he’s pushed over the edge and having a hard time harnessing in his irritation. “I can’t think of anyone we ran into that you seemed interested in.”

  “That’s because you were too stupid to notice. I ran into him every single time we were together…”

  He’s quiet for a second as his eyes search mine probingly. I nod to answer the question that’s bouncing around in his head. “You, dummy. I was always, and only, ever trying to impress you. Even back then.”

  I’ve barely gotten the words out, when I’m being hoisted up mid-air, my back pressing against the tree as leverage but his arms wrapping around me to keep my body from taking the brunt force of the motion. I have no choice but to wrap my legs around his hips, then his lips are on mine. I don’t even know if I’m ready for this—there’s still way too much to sort out for us to be doing something so careless. There’s Ari. There’s our families—their differences…

  There’s my heart, which I should be guarding carefully.

  But when his tongue swipes at the seam of my lips—urgently, impatiently demanding entrance, I award it. At the same time, he grinds his erection right against my core, creating a delicious friction.

  My hands slide underneath his arms, curling over his shoulders, and smashing me against his chest. Every inch of me is fused to him, but it’s still not nearly enough. I’ve never been so desperate to be close to someone—never felt that insatiable need to melt into them. He rolls his hips, grinding against my clit again, and a zing of pleasure courses through me.

  His teeth nip at my bottom lip, pulling lightly and barely sucking before releasing. Holy shit. It’s like every other kiss in my life was just practice, leading me up to this one moment—the real deal.

  With my name on his lips, he breaks away, tucking his face into curve of my neck as he catches his breath. Then, his lips capture my skin, licking and sucking erotically. I moan.

  “Nash,” I whisper in a breathless plea. I don’t even know what I’m asking for, but I know he’s the only one who knows the answer.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Nash

  Her chest is heaving when she pulls back, her eyes burning with want as her gaze catches mine. That plump lip settles between her teeth, a line drawing her brows inward as she studies me with a bemused expression. God, how I want to make love to her right now. If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t even be opposed to fucking her right up against this tree—but this is Lyra. My sweet, rebellious Lyra. My heart’s desire and my soul’s conundrum. As much as I’ve fought it all the years, I’ve wanted her for as long as I can remember…

  With one look, she asks a thousand questions I don’t even know the answer to, but at the forefront of all that, there’s a plea. One she may not even realize she’s requesting of me. And I’m not going to do all the work for her…it’s a conclusion she’ll have to draw on her own.

  “What is it, Stars?” The pad of my thumb brushes along the curve of her breast, and she arches her back, aching to get closer. “I want to hear you say it…You have to ask me…” I coax.

  Worry fills her features. “I’ve asked you before…look how that went.” She hints to that night in the past I turned her down. Fuck, if she only knew how bad I wanted to then. But she was drunk, and not like tonight’s kind of drunk where she was acting silly and adorable—she was scared, just begging for a distraction. If I’m being honest, my head was all over the place that night. The side that’s a gentleman pulling me in one direction, and the side that’s all man whispering in my ear that one time wouldn’t hurt.

  Fortunately, the side of reason won out. I knew what would happen if we had sex…It would wear down my defenses to the one girl who could ruin me forever. And we all know what happens when a defenseless heart is under siege—the king will always fall.

  “I’m scared of being shut down again,” her tortured whisper barely reaches my ears.

  “That won’t happen,” I grit out, hoping like hell this doesn’t backfire and hurt us both.

  The next move is hers, so I patiently await her directive. Or at least I hope it comes off as patient…I’m standing here rigid like every muscle is made of stone, holding her suspended in my arms. It has nothing to do with her weight and everything to do with restraint.

  Her mouth pops open as if to say something, then snaps shut again.

  “This…” She shakes her head. “It’s not a good idea. We should head back.” I release her immediately, only making sure she has good footing before taking a solid step in the opposite direction. I don’t mean to be so cold, but a man only has so much control over himself before he takes action without thought. I could kiss her again, probably persuade her, but I’ve no doubt she’d wake up regretting it tomorrow. And she’d resent me. Even more than she already does.

  She gives a curt nod and we walk back in silence.

  Once we slip through the screen door and into the kitchen, she glances at the clock on the stove warily. It’s just switching over to eleven thirty when she turns to me with a questioning look.

  I clear my throat. “I’ll take the couch.”

  “Okay. Yeah.” She’s nervous, that much is obvious. What just happened out there has her emotions scrambled just as much as it does mine.

  “Do you have a pillow and a blanket?”

  This question gets her moving. “Er, yeah. Let me just get you one.” She hightails it toward the linen closet in the hallway like she’s running from a creature of the night—me being the creature in question. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smirking.

  When she reappears a minute later, she throws the blanket and pillow over the back of the couch and speed walks back toward her bedroom. “Goodnight,” she calls over her shoulder.

  “Goodnight, Stars.” I do grin this time. “Towels are in the linen closet too, I presume?”

  She stops just as she’s about to shut the door to her room. “Oh, you want to take a shower?”

  “If that’s alright with you,” I nod.

  “Sh—sure. Be my guest.” With a tight-lipped smile, she shuts the door.

  I let out a hearty chuckle when the lock clicks in place.

  Yep. Definitely sees me as the monster.

  ~XoXo~

  Lyra

  I turn the lock to my door—I’m not sure why—then proceed to pace back and forth. I only pause to peel off my yoga pants, switching them out for the booty shorts I was wearing earlier because it’s suddenly way too hot in here. All the alcohol from earlier has worn off.

  And I’m such a damn moron.

  The tempo of my nervous room patrolling only increases when I hear the shower cut on in the bathroom that shares a wall with mine. Actually, the floor plan of my house is like this…The bathroom next door has two entrances. One is from the hallway, the other is from my bedroom. Typically, when I have company o
ver, I lock the door that leads from the hallway and have them use the other bathroom at the opposite side of the house—the one closest to my office/paint gallery/yoga room combo.

  Why the hell didn’t I think of that before?

  Now, here I am obsessing over the fact Nash is naked, just a few steps away from where I’m currently standing. He’s in my shower. He’s using my shampoo and body wash. Damn it. If I’d only been brave instead of chickening out when he came onto me…I could be sharing that shower with him right now, both of us gearing up for round number two. Instead, I became that weak girl again who’s too afraid to try anything. But to cut myself a little break, how was I supposed to know if I’d be humiliated for putting myself out there again?

  God, is he going to use my loofa too? Because I might never wash it again. I might save it forever.

  Nah, that’s stupid. It’d get all soured and smell like…mildewed pounanny.

  A sound coming from the other room, makes my steps slow as I strain my ears to hear. There’s a repetitive noise I can’t quite place, mostly silent and hard to catch. Then, there it is again. A low, guttural groan.

  I place my ear against the door. The undeniable slap of skin. A rough grunt. A series of words that I can’t quite distinguish—although I’m pretty certain one of them was, Fuck. I pull my lip between my teeth and bite down. I’m spying. I should give him some, er, privacy. But I can’t move. It’s like the first time I ever watched Porn—I plugged my earphones into my laptop, I looked over my shoulder every five seconds, but just knowing I might get caught in the act made me feel that much more naughty.

  “Lyra.” My name falls from his lips in a silent, raspy plea and I’m hallucinating. Or sleeping, but girls can’t have erotic dreams like guys do… Right? And Nash can’t really want me. It’s just like he said earlier, he’s horny, and I just happen to be the girl most fresh on his mind.