Chapter 8 Lily #2
Almost. But I can’t, because I refuse to drag him down with me.
I take a bottle of wine out of the fridge and pour myself a glass, swallowing it in two gulps, before pouring another to savor.
Moving to look over the city I sip my second glass slowly, willing my heart rate to relax into a normal pace.
I shouldn’t feel pure panic at the mere idea of going to a place I once considered a second home, and I swallow my second glass and laugh as I move to pour another.
Gods, what would Logan say if he could see me now?
He’d probably laugh too, more than enjoying the fact that something had finally broken my perfect facade.
He always wore his heart on his sleeve, and felt his feelings loudly without a care of what others thought of him, and I always envied him of that fact.
Until his death I prided myself on always being put together, on never letting people get close enough to see the cracks.
Even as I got ready earlier, I ensured my hair and makeup were done to perfection, that I chose a dress that complimented my complexion, as if that would allow my family to ignore the sadness forever present in my eyes.
Nothing can hide how broken I am now, and everybody knows it.
Somehow, it doesn’t take long for two glasses of wine to turn into a bottle, and for the two hours before dinner to turn into two hours afterwards.
Does the effort still count if I never made it out the door?
I’m slumped on the sofa with a second bottle of wine, watching the sunset turn into a night sky, wondering if my heart will ever not fucking ache, when my front door bursts open.
Zack storms inside, looking around wildly before his stare locks with mine, and only then does he slam the door behind him, making me push up in my seat.
“Look, if you’re here to yell at me about not showing up, I’m really not in the mood,” I tell him, sipping more of the wine, but he doesn’t say anything until he has dropped onto the sofa beside me and snatched the bottle from my hand.
“I’m not here to yell, I’m here to drink,” he replies flatly, tipping his head back, downing three large gulps before passing it back to me.
If I had it in me, I might smile at him looking a little human for once. My brother tends to always be serious and stoic, but I guess on a day like today we all need something to take the edge off. I don’t bother responding as I take the bottle back for another sip.
For the next hour we pass the bottle back and forth, finishing the wine before moving onto whiskey, neither of us saying anything, and it’s the most at peace I’ve felt in months.
I’m almost certain he is content enough to stay silent the whole night, but given how things have been with us since last week, given what we have already lost, I can no longer bear it.
“I was going to come tonight,” I start quietly, and his head whips toward me in surprise.
“I got dressed up and I was ready to leave, but I just,” I trail off, pulling at my now rumpled dress with a scoff, before I take another drink.
“I just couldn’t do it, I couldn’t make myself leave.
” I hate how vulnerable I sound, but I think he’s the only person in the world I would let see me like this.
“I know I let everyone down, and Logan would be disappointed in me, but I just couldn’t bear the thought of sitting at the table with all our family, knowing he should be there with us. ”
His hand lands on my leg, squeezing it lightly in an attempt to comfort me. “He wouldn’t be disappointed in you, sweetheart, none of us are.”
I hate how both his words and touch soothe me instantly, and I can’t stand it.
I shove him off and jump to my feet. “Yes he would,” I snap, feeling like I am suffocating under the weight of my grief.
“And you should be too, I mean, look at me, look at the state of my life.” I can’t help the humorless laugh that leaves me, as I shake my head and down another gulp of whiskey, before discarding the bottle.
“Did I really think dressing up tonight would hide how far I’ve fallen?
” I scoff, as I pull at my dress again, and suddenly the feel of it against me burns.
Reaching for the zipper I tug on it roughly, desperate to take it off, and when my hands fumble for the third time, a tear hits my cheek.
Zack is on his feet in the next second, his deft fingers pulling it down with ease, despite him having drunk almost as much as I have.
I don’t hesitate in ripping the dress away from me, leaving me in nothing but my slip, as I slink down onto the edge of the table and begin to cry.
Of course my noble brother doesn’t hesitate in pulling me into his arms, settling me back onto the sofa beside him.
“Come here, sweetheart,” he grunts, tucking me into his side, with one arm around my shoulder, as the other drops to my legs, holding me firm against him.
“It’s been a tough year for all of us, Lils,” he tries to placate me, but all I can focus on is his thumb, as it moves meticulously back and forth across the skin of my thigh.
I don’t even think he realizes he’s doing it, but the small movement has me hypnotised.
“You know I am always here for you, right?”
My heart beats wildly in my chest, as he says something else I don’t hear, and I press myself further into the hard plains of his body, relishing in the way he tucks me in even tighter, as he continues to talk.
Still I don’t hear a word, no, the only thing I hear is the rapid beat of my heart, as the alcohol pumps its way around my body.
I’m not just intoxicated by the wine and whiskey, but him too.
His scent assaulting my senses, as the heat of his body seeps into mine.
Fuck. I have been battling my attraction to him for years, but right now I feel like I don’t have it under control.
Not when I can feel every inch of him trying to console me, not when he’s here on the worst night of the year, just to make sure I’m okay.
I have wanted him for as long as I can remember, but right now I don’t just want him, I need him.
“Aren’t you just sick of it?” I interrupt, looking up at him through my damp lashes, and he looks down at me with so much love and concern, that it controls me without him even realizing it.
“Sick of what?” he asks, searching my stare, the whiskey on his breath fanning across my lips, and my heart slams against my ribcage, as I lean in even closer.
“Pretending,” I whisper, turning myself toward him slightly.
“When was the last time you felt good, Zack? When was the last time you were truly happy?” I question, and he opens his mouth to say something, but closes it swiftly, unable to answer me.
It’s what has me leaning up and kissing him, knowing I’m sober enough to know I want this more than anything, and drunk enough to have the courage to do it.
At first he doesn’t react, just lets me press my mouth against his, as my hand reaches up to fist in his shirt, but then he is pulling back and staring at me in surprise.
“Lils, what the hell are you doing?” His question and retreat should make me burn with embarrassment, but the grief and need are too overwhelming.
“Trying to feel something,” I tell him, climbing into his lap, his hands instantly moving to my waist, but I keep him pinned with my stare.
“Come on, Zack, aren’t you sick of feeling empty?
When was the last time someone made you feel good?
” I ask, leaning in to kiss him again, this time trailing my lips along his jaw and down his throat, noting how he doesn’t pull away.
“Don’t you want to forget, just for tonight?
” I grind myself against him, forcing myself to remember what it’s like to make a man lose his mind, as his hands tighten around where he’s holding me.
I’m not sure if he’s trying to hold me in place or hold himself back, either way I don’t care.
“I need to feel something, I need to feel you,” I add, and I can feel my slip rising around my thighs where I straddle him.
The stockings I put on earlier to go with my dress are now on full display, and I don’t miss the little grunt that slips past his lips, as his stare dances between my eyes and thighs.
I mildly wonder the last time he was with someone, was it Rosie?
Did he lose his will to feel such simple pleasures when our brother died, like me?
Either way I don’t care. Pulling back, I stare down at him, unable to decipher the dark look in his eyes, as I slide my hands around his neck and grind down on him once more.
“Feel something with me, Zack, please,” I plead, leaning down again, but I don’t even get half way before one of his hands fists roughly in my hair, holding me in place above him.
His stare is locked on mine, wondering, wanting, and I know what he’s thinking, if we cross this line there is no going back.
I shift against him, feeling a flicker of arousal beneath me, and it fuels my own, as I rock against him.
“Lils,” he groans out, his fingers once again flexing around my hips, like he can’t quite believe he is holding me, as I roll my body over his awakening cock.
“Kiss me, please.” The words haven’t even fully left my mouth, before his tongue is forcing its way past my lips until it can tangle with my own.
He’s kissing me. My brother is kissing me. Fuck.