Chapter 25
Ryan
" Y ou just have to accept it, Lily. We come as a package deal. If you're dating Eric, you're..." I let my words trail off. Best not to finish that thought since I'm doing my best to put my own desire aside and do what best friends do. Which is apparently to help him get laid and become his girl's assistant.
No, the real reason I'm here when I could be anywhere else is because I love Eric, and I care about Lily. I wasn't lying when I said I understood her. The girl needs a break. It's like fucking community service. All right, there's distancing language, and then there's distancing language. Community service? Really?
Whether I'm overjoyed by it or not, the role I've been allowed to play in Lily's life is friendship, and you know what, it's an honor to know her. It's going to take a while to accept though. Attraction doesn't just go away, especially when you're hanging around the person every day. Yeah, I'm going to have to find excuses to get away and be with my one true love, photography. It won't be every day, even if it feels like it now. After all, I have a life too.
One that won't include Lily in it the way I'd like it to, but well, there's nothing to be done about that. There's no competing with the way they look at each other. A part of me burst with happiness for Eric as they held each other; the other part of me threw up in my mouth as she gazed in his eyes as if he were the only one in the room. No wonder I had to dash into the kitchen to get away from it all.
"So, where do you want me?" I sighed, throwing my arms open and groaning inwardly when her eyes flashed with heat. Interesting.
No. Nope. Not interesting at all, Ryan. Leave it alone.
Clearing my throat, I looked at my feet because if I kept looking at her, I'd see something I wanted to see, I'm sure of it. That look just now. I've seen it before. At the wedding. At the park. Now.
So, why did she agree to date Eric? This is just a magnet for messiness.
Maybe, dumbass, it has to do with them being each other's first loves and all that shit. The audacity. You think that IF she MIGHT have a thing for you, that she should throw what she wants with Eric out the window? You do not compare. Humble your ass, my mind stepped in to set me straight.
"I've already done the dishes, so I mean, is there anything else you want me to do?" I pointed my thumb behind me, before dropping my hand to my side, growing increasingly uncomfortable in my own body.
"I think we should all step out of this tiny room first. The heat in here is maddening..." She fanned herself, stepping past all of us. We did our best to dodge each other in the doorway, and I forced myself to ignore the way she avoided me the same way I avoided her, as if we're afraid that if we even brushed against each other, the intensity would be too much to handle.
Okay, now I'm sounding delusional. It's probably all just one-sided anyway. How embarrassing for me if it is.
Lily
"So, I was thinking that if it's okay with you, it'll probably help you feel better if we install some cameras around the place? That way, when you leave, you can still check in on your mother on your phone," Matt suggested, standing next to me.
"I can't afford that," I said, handing Ryan the comb and brush. He had said he wanted to comb her hair. The sight was less amusing once I realized that he knew what he's doing. Her hair was long and gray, from the stress rather than age. He's gentle in the way he handles her, and I had to look away to stop myself from finding another reason to be attracted to him.
"Money isn't an issue," Matt assured me, bringing my attention back to him. Eric stole it by waving me over.
"I won't feel comfortable letting Ethan do that," I argued.
"What? Oh." He laughed. "Right. Because he's the billionaire. Don't worry about it. He won't be the one picking up the bill."
"You?" I asked in disbelief, regarding the thin, gray shorts and white T-shirt.
"What?" He looked down at himself and back at me. "You think I can't afford it? That's hilarious." He grinned.
Eric pulled me into his lap as soon as I got close. "Matt's pretty well off himself," he chimed in, hearing the latter part of our conversation.
"Oh," I gasped. I'd gone from knowing no rich person to having two in my hellhole of a house. Great. This wasn't uncomfortable at all. "Well, I can't let you do it either."
"I insist," Matt said.
"Insist on what?" Eric asked. Matt filled him in. "That'll help a lot, won't it? If you won't accept it from Matt, will you accept it from me?"
"What? I don't know," I bristled, overwhelmed. It's one thing accepting physical help for one day. It's another thing accepting money. Money often comes with debts and expectations. People don't give money away for nothing.
"I think the issue is, you don't think you deserve this." Matt echoed my thoughts as if they're playing aloud from a mini speaker in my head. "Let me do this for you. I give money away to causes all the time."
I gasped, "So, I'm a cause?" It's almost insulting, and I didn't understand why. Because it's no different from giving to the Women's Shelter. Except, they're helping hundreds of strangers. I'm taking care of my mother. It's my responsibility to take care of her needs and the house. It feels wrong accepting a stranger's money for help. But we could use it.
"I don't know. Who will have access to the camera?" I asked.
Matt smiled. "Whoever you want."
It's like trying on a pair of heels when all you've ever worn are sneakers. New, unfamiliar, and uncomfortable. But I nodded, and he heads off into the corner to place the order.
"How are you feeling?" Eric asked after a while, rubbing my back.
'Still uneasy,' I was about to admit, until Ethan took a seat across from my mother in the dingy couch that used to be white or cream. The tightness in my chest dissolved as the sweetest picture unfolded before me. Ethan picked up a dusty book that's been sitting on a beer-can-stained coffee table for the past year. It's a book about gardening that my mother decides she'll get into every time she recovers, before relapsing time and again.
He read to my mother with a softness that could be felt across the room. I had to keep reminding myself that he's a billionaire. He's so humble. He hasn't turned his nose up once since stepping in here. I even turn my nose up when I step in here. It's not disgusting. Like, there aren't dirty plates and cups everywhere or food sticking to the floors, roaches in the kitchen, or none of that nightmarish stuff. I keep it as clean as I can manage, but it's still in pretty bad shape. Definitely not fit for a billionaire, or from the sounds of it, two billionaires or whatever Matt is. They're all richer than I am, that's for sure.
Although, when I thought back to the banquet and the stories he shared, I supposed this place wasn't the worst he's seen. Still, I couldn't help the itch that pulled me to my feet. As soon as I was at ease, I was pricked with urgent need. Since they were taking the time to sit with my mother, it was the perfect time to clean the house. I barely get the chance, if ever, to do a thorough cleaning. The dust gathered on the bookshelf and old coffee table because I didn't prioritize it over cleaning the floors, the kitchen, the bathroom, and my mother's bedroom, my bedroom, and cleaning up after spills twenty thousand times for the day, in the living room or anywhere. But if they were taking some of the load off, the least I could do was get the cleaning done.
"Hey, what are you doing?" Eric asked when I jumped up from his lap. I sighed, looking around me, wondering where to start. "Tell me what you want, and I'll get it done." He moved to stand in front of me. "This is the time for you to rest, remember?"
"You mean, time for you to get that date you want?" I fired back, a little too hard.
"Is that so bad?" he asked, pulling me closer to him. "That I want to spend more time with you? Share more of what we shared this morning?" He grinned wickedly, whispering in my ear, and I gripped his arms as my body responded.
"Yes. I mean, no," I gasped. "I'm sorry. I'm just..."
"Overwhelmed. I know." He nodded. "We don't have to do all of this today. I just want you to see that I don't want to become another burden in your life. I'll move mountains if I have to, for us to be together. And my friends are willing to do the same. Is that okay with you?"
I couldn't help but smile, nodding. The surrealism of this moment hit me as the warmth of him enveloped me, and his gray eyes twinkled. This was all too good to be true, and that's what made it so scary. I'd keep my eyes open for the crash, but for now, couldn't I just enjoy the ride?
""So, what was it you were in such a hurry to do?" he asked.
"This place is a mess. Look at it. I just want to do some of the cleaning I never get to," I confessed.
"Done," he said.
"You'll do it?" I raised my brows, humor making them wriggle as I watched the uncertainty on his face.
He hesitated before saying, "First thing tomorrow, I'll hire a cleaner. Deal?"
He managed to do it again—put a smile on my face and a laugh in my belly. "Deal." I grinned. "But it's time for my mom to go for her walk. She'll go down for a nap after that. Then we can go on our date."
He pulled me closer, kissing me on the cheek and neck until a giggle escaped me. I felt like a different human.
"She might have a little bit of lunch before or after her nap," I said loudly, pushing him off me. "Is that okay for you guys to handle?" I asked.
"Yes, ma'am. Don't worry about a thing," the guys all echoed. Ryan saluted me with a smile as bright as the sun, and I took a breath, relieved that I wasn't tripping over myself. I'd let myself believe that this was all going to work out just fine.
Eric pecked me on the lips, grinning before strolling over to my mother. "Come on, Ms. Thornbread, put on your best walking shoes. Today's going to be a great day."
If there was enough space in the house, I bet he'd kick his heels together. This feeling was new. Bubbly. Happiness. The dread still lurked, like it always did. But today, it wasn't at the forefront, making the decisions for me. I was choosing something different, and I hoped to goodness that I deserved it.
I was blindfolded as Eric took my hand and guided me forward. My shoulders throbbed, and my back cried out from getting my mother changed out of her sweat and drizzle-damp clothes after the walk and put to bed. There were a lot of things the guys helped with, but there were still some tasks that had to be done by a professional, which in this case, was me.
She fell asleep soon after her sedative kicked in, but I was still not comfortable leaving her alone with the guys. If she were to have any sort of accident at all, I still needed to be here to take care of it. And the cameras weren't getting installed until the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. I almost called off the date, but Eric wouldn't let me.
Well, I wouldn't let me, because let's face it, there's nothing anyone can force me to do anymore that I don't want to do. And I wanted this date. I hadn't looked forward to something like this in a long time. It was like I was young and hopeful again, actually twenty-eight, even if my bones said otherwise. Even if it was nothing but a fantasy, I'd like to live in it for a while longer.
"All right. Oh! Be careful." Eric grinned as I almost tripped over something. A table? The things on it rattled.
"Oh, sorry." I smiled.
His roughened fingers grazed my temple as the blindfold was removed from my face. The slight throb in my eyes faded to take in the string lights set up on the outside of my backyard. He'I'd been adamant that I remain inside until he was finished setting up. And I have to say, the transformation is straight out of a picture. I imagine Ryan would itch to capture this moment. Oops, no thoughts about Ryan.
On the walk, I'd told Eric that painting and conversation would be a great way to spend the evening. He'd been eager to please, finding an event close by that offered painting and wine nights. I didn't object. He still didn't know about my drug dependency when he suggested it. He found out though, when Matt decided to grab a case of beers to take back to the house, and Ethan freaked out, telling him he couldn't buy it because it would be insensitive.
The conversation about my situation was brought up. Eric didn't say anything, except to scrap the paint and wine night. That was another reason I wanted to cancel tonight. I thought his lack of a response had been because of judgment or disappointment in me for turning to the same thing I loathed my parents for.
But the setup in my backyard said something different. String lights created a backdrop against two canvases, one table with paint supplies and another with snacks. No alcohol for either of us. Two stools I'm sure he must have bought along with the tables because I've never seen them before, awaited us. The casualness with which they all spent money was still mind boggling for me.
A soft blanket with pillows was laid out on the grass. My smile burned through my cheeks. He cared. My eyes stung.
And he's also a little cheeky. "What's that for?" I grinned at the blanket.
"Stargazing." He creased his brows at me.
"Stargazing," I repeated. "Is that all it's for?"
"Yes. What else do you think it's for?" He smirked before feigning a gasp. "Lily Thornbread! You've got a dirty mind." He winked.
"I didn't say anything," I reminded him, hurrying toward my stool and reaching for the paintbrush and paint like it's Christmas, and I've just unwrapped the best gift of all.
Immediately, I got to work, already having my muse. Eric, on the other hand, sat and stared at the canvas.
"What are you going to paint?" I asked.
"A picture of you, of course." He reached for his paintbrush and dipped it into the paint on his palette.
"What a coincidence." I smiled. "I'm painting a picture of you too," I purred.
"Ooh, are you? Do you need me to pose for you? I can do nude for a price." He leaned over to kiss my cheek.
"Oh, a price? Is that right? In that case, I'll use my imagination and my recollection." I glanced at him, taking him in, my cheeks heating from the memories of this morning. He chuckled as he focused on the canvas before him a little too much, almost ignoring me. Less than five minutes later, he told me he's done and showed me the worst painting I've ever seen.
"There she is. The prettiest woman I know. My masterpiece." He revealed it with pride, and I spit laughing at the sharp, pointy nose, the too-round eyes, and the triangular-like chin.
"Is that what I look like to you?" I asked. I've taken some pictures of myself I'd rather hide from the world, but I have to say, that's the worst photo of 'me' I've ever seen.
"You don't like it?" he asked, looking from me back to the canvas as if trying to convince himself he had done a pretty good job.
I couldn't break the bad news to him. "I love it. I'll keep it framed in my room." Rolling my neck to ease the tension in my shoulders, I caught him looking at my movements.
"I'm not the artist here." He got up from the stool and stretched. "I'll leave the art to you," he said. "In the meantime, I'll be your humble servant." He moved to stand behind me and surprised me with the most glorious massage. The knots broke away as tingles ran through my spine almost instantly.
I moaned in response.
"Keep doing that, and I might have to pull you away from that canvas," he leaned down to grumble in my ear.
"No. Don't stop. It feels so good," I said. I rolled my neck again, my lids fluttering shut as I did.
"Lily," he groaned, but he didn't stop. I was happy he didn't because this was almost better than sex. With each knot that got released, an uncontrollable moan erupted from my lips. "Fuck, Lily," he muttered behind me, nuzzling into my neck.
I was' caught up in an endorphin tsunami. The soul-healing brush of the stroke against the cotton canvas brought satisfaction to my ears. The bone-rippling rush that moved through me at the pressure of his fingers. His breath on my neck, the coconut and citrus scent of his hair as it flickered over my cheek, the scrape of his beard sending tingles through to my nether regions, sounding the alarm for the rest of my body to follow suit. I didn't know what I wanted to do more, finish this painting while he massaged me or lean into the embrace of his masculinity and give myself over to him.
He managed self-control for both of us, keeping his hands on my back and shoulders, despite his soft groans behind me when I sighed and moaned. If he were to rake his hands across my breasts, I'd give him control of my body. Yet, I was' filled with gratitude as he continued to make this date about me and provide much-needed relief to my accumulated tension over the past five years. His single-minded focus on helping me relax, and the pleasure he received from doing it.
His likeness took form on the canvas before me as I painted him the way I saw him in this moment, a light in the darkness. A second chance. The one who got away, but who came back to me. This was new for me, this head in the clouds, romantic sort of vibe. But he made it easy. When his hands moved to my lower back, I threw my head back in complete and utter bliss, gasping as my body opened up, and my nerves breathed for the first time.
"Wow," I panted. It was' better than any high I'd had before. My eyes flew open to see him smiling at me before dropping a kiss on my forehead.
"You haven't seen anything yet." He pulled away, leaving me loose and noodle-like as he took up position at my feet.
"What are you doing?" I asked, my voice husky when I stared down into his glassy eyes.
"Paying you back for that painting of me. I look beautiful." He gushed before removing my yellow thong sandal and kissing the bottom of my feet. My grin fell away, making way for yet another open-mouthed sigh as his thumb pressed into the bottom arch.
"Eric. Oh my..." My words trailed off as the paintbrush almost fell from my fingers.
"Uh-uh-uh," he reprimanded. "Keep painting. I want to hang that up wherever I end up calling home." He moved on to the next foot.
A slight knot formed in my stomach, and my smile grew weary. "So, you don't plan on staying in Durham long term?" I cleared my throat.
He took a breath, his hands slowing as he massaged my foot, aware that he had let something slip that he might not have wanted to.
"You haven't thought about traveling?" he asked, instead of answering the question.
"You know that's out of the question..." I protested, almost dropping my brush at the mood change. He spotted my disinterest in looking at either of his faces, the one staring up at me from the ground and the one looking back at me from the canvas.
Of course, this was just a trial run. If we didn't work out, he'd skip town. It was almost like an exam, where I had to try my best to keep him here, to make this work. It was no longer fun. I should've seen this coming. I was only destined for short-term happiness. All of this the guys were coming together to do, it wasn't sustainable. They'd all grow bored eventually. They were free spirits.
And I was just stuck here. As always.
"Lily," he sighed, reaching for my hand and pulling me toward the blanket.
I rolled my eyes. "You've got to be kidding me." I glared at the soft, welcoming, creamy-white blanket, offering another short-lived moment of bliss.
Pulling my hand from his, I folded it against my breasts. His eyes moved up the length of my legs, almost catching a peek up my black and yellow oversized T-shirt dress. My hunger returned despite myself.
"Lie down with me." He nodded toward the blanket again, his lips turning up into a small yet comforting smile. Shaking my head, I sat on it. He lay back with his arm spread out behind me. Crooking his finger toward me, he murmured, "Come on. I won't bite. Not yet anyway."
Our short stare-off ended with me succumbing to his request.
"That's what I'm scared of. The 'not yet' part," I muttered, laying into him, my head against his shoulders as his arm came around me. The warmth of his body was welcoming against the soft, night breeze.
"You know you don't have to do this on your own anymore, right?" he started, his voice vibrating through me, the mix of his cologne doing wild things to my body.
"Yeah, for now. Maybe. Until you guys realize that this isn't some fairytale or a one-off charity case you can throw money at with a few hours of voluntary labor and walk away from after, without another thought," I said.
"Ouch," he responded. "Well, you've always said what's on your mind."
A part of me crumpled at that. That was too harsh. But it was how I felt.
"For the record, I don't think it's impossible for you to travel with us on our adventures. Or for you to have adventures of your own. As I said, you don't have to do this on your own anymore. We could hire a nurse."
My heart flipped at that, but I shut down the thought. I couldn't let myself imagine anything beyond what I knew. Before today, the thought of paying someone else to look after her had only been a far-off dream I didn't see coming true. I'd accepted dedicating my entire life to taking care of my mother. Now, he's offering me something that could be stripped away in the blink of an eye if I dream too hard.
"Yeah. Maybe," I conceded, not wanting to prolong the conversation any longer, and set myself up for something that had the possibility to not pan out when the novelty of this reunion inevitably wore off. There's silence between us for a while. The tightness in my chest pulled me away from the warm nook of his embrace. We both lay on our backs, staring up at the sky.
"So, you want to fill me in on what led you to take drugs?" he asked the question point blank.
I answered it without turning my eyes away from the few twinkling stars and the trance they induced, allowing the words to flow from my lips without worry.
"Marco." I sighed. The expansive sky reminded me that like a star, I'm nothing but a dot in this vast universe. Lying beneath something that should crush me under its weight yet manages to hold itself up turned me weightless. "He took drugs," I filled him in. "It messed with his head and when he didn't have it. He took his frustrations out on me. Just like my mom, I became a victim to his abuse."
The coolness of a tear trickling down the side of my face was the sole indication that I'm crying. Eric listened to the whole shebang from beginning to end in silence. For a moment, I forgot he's even there until the pads of his fingers indented my cheek and pulled my face toward him. I looked up into the reddened eyes, the veins against his sclera like crackling fire. But he didn't shed a tear. He didn't tell me how much 'he'd kill him if he got the chance;' even if I could see the rage in his eyes. Because he knew me.
Instead, choked up, he rested his forehead against mine, his fingers pressed into my scalp and said, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I left."
You know what? Those words meant something, and they undid a lot of damage, but not in the way I thought they would. A literal breakthrough took apart the resentment I used to have, bit by bit, until clarity formed a whole new thought.
"It's not your fault." I brushed my nose against his, surprising myself.
All this time, I blamed him for leaving. I'd only fallen for Marco because I was looking for his replacement. But none of it was his fault. Of course it wasn't. How could I have been so dumb? All this time wasted blaming him for something he had no part in, just because I was angry he left.
Washed clean by a wave of emotion, I took a breath, pressing my lips against his. "It's not your fault," I repeated, holding him closer, my body buzzing in celebration of this revelation.
He groaned as I kissed him so hard, our teeth crashed up against each other, but neither of us cared as I toppled him over on his back and climbed on top of him, pulling my dress over my head as I did. He hardened instantly beneath his jeans. The breeze against the tiny hairs on my skin emphasized my freedom.
He looked up at me, his features strained with need and as I rolled the bottom of his shirt upward, he pulled it off. His back thudded into the soft blanket, and his hair was in disarray. I snapped a mental photo of him for later when I returned to his painting. But now, I kissed him without abandon, spoke without abandon. With the tension of resentment broken, I let everything I've been holding back out of fear fall from my lips onto his.
"I love you," I confess. I always have, even when I didn't want to. It's such a relief to say it aloud without worrying about 'repercussions.' I'm not interested in thinking past this moment in time.
He groaned, replying without words as he rolled me onto my back. He'd already said it sometime between last night and this morning. He didn't have to say it again. I felt it in the way he looked at me, cared for me, and went out of his way to make me smile. Wrapping my arms around him, his kisses grew more passionate and desperate for more of my body. I wished I could suck him into my veins. He grinned at the way I pulled him against me in a bear hug, wrapping my legs around him even as his weight slammed into me.
Nipping my chin, he slowed his kisses and rolled his hips as if remembering that we had all the time in the world. He ground against my panties, soaking through his jeans, until I loosened my hold on him, needing him to take me. He sighed into my neck, his lips a firm caress as he hooked his fingers in the waistband of my panties and slid them over my hips.
With my legs splayed before him and the breeze wafting across my slickness, he eased off me and allowed his eyes to take in all of me while he unbuttoned his jeans and licked his lips. He didn't say anything; his gaze spoke a thousand words and my belly ached with need as his long, thick member sprang free. My nipples became hard beads as he lowered himself over me. My heart skipped a hundred beats and I arched my back, the needles of pleasure and impatience too hot to handle.
Nibbling on my lip while he kissed me, he inserted himself with a groan. I'm already so primed for him, so wet and ready, that he slipped in with the slightest amount of give to make me gasp. Before I could wrap my legs and arms around him again to keep him tight against me, he cupped my breast, pushing it upward and dipping his head to take it.
His teeth and tongue teased my needy nipple as his steady strokes injected euphoric waves into my bloodstream. Dropping my head to sneak a peek at him caused heat to flood me, and I grabbed onto the blanket, throwing my head back as my pussy constricted around him. He groaned, and I moaned in unison. His thrusts grew purposeful, pushing me toward my release, and I gagged on the air rushing into my open mouth.
"Eric," I gasped, the peak in sight. He nuzzled my neck, panting into me, dizzying me with his hot breath until I convulsed around him.
"Shit," he swore, fucking me through the crashing waves until he could no longer bear it. Pulling out of me, he took a breath and rolled on his back, his dick still very much erect. "Damn, Lily." He smiled at me after a few seconds of breath passed between us.
But I'm not in the mood for smiling. Through the slit of my eyes, I regarded his dick with mouth-watering need. He watched me as I moved toward him, groaning before I even settled between his legs and took him into my mouth.
In all my hookups since Marco, I haven't given any man a blow job. I've fucked for my own pleasure, the thought of serving them with my mouth disgusting to me. I surprised myself with how dizzy the feeling of him inside my mouth made me. Even when his hand guided my head, I'm eager. My eyes rolled back at the flavor of both of us against my tongue, hitting the back of my throat along with the tip of his dick.
He braced himself up on his elbows to look at me. Lacking in this particular area, I gagged as his wide tip slipped into the hollow of my throat.
"Lily," he grunted, choking through his whisper as he tried not to make any noise. My mouth bounced off his dick, spit sliding down it as I recovered my breath. "Come here." He cupped my chin and pulled me up to him.
Rolling me on my back, he inserted himself into me. I yelped at the pressure as he pumped me full of him. "Shhh." He grinned. "The other guys will hear."
He pressed his lips to mine to muffle my moans. My walls tightened at the thought of being heard by them, and I came within seconds, shaking against him and pulling him closer.
"Fuck." He pulled his lips away to mutter, setting my breath and wailing free. Pulling out of me, he slapped the inside of my leg with his thick penis, raking his teeth across my jaw. "You like the thought of them hearing you, don't you?" he breathed into my ear, not a single doubt in his mind since I'm basically howling like a wolf at the moon.
But did I tell him that? Would that make him jealous? Bring out the possessive side I'd yet to see? Lucky for me, he's distracted by the crook of my neck, his lips parading from there all over my sweaty, tender skin and down between my legs. He kissed me there with the same amount of love he showered my lips with, and I'm soon bucking against him again, sobbing when he kept going after every orgasm, bringing me to yet another release until I worried whether or not I'd stop coming.
On the edge of the next release, I cried, my hole tender, hot, and shuddering. "Fuck me. Fuck me. Please."
This time, we locked eyes as he drove into me, knowing both our climaxes were quickly approaching.