22. Lakelyn
CHAPTER 22
Lakelyn
The door jingles, and I twist away from my easel to see who came in. Mason had to go check on the dogs at the shelter. A storm’s coming and some of the runs were left open. Chad stands almost hesitantly in the doorway, and I set my paintbrush down and jump up to greet him.
“I’ve missed you,” I say. His arms open for me, and I’m in them, wrapping myself around him. I bury my face in his neck, inhaling his perfume and something more. Something that makes my heart race inside my chest. “You smell like Dean.”
He presses a kiss to my forehead and smiles. “He, uh, picked me up off the side of the road, and things got a little heated. Apparently, there is enough room in a Mustang to do more than kiss.”
My cheeks heat, and I pull back to study him a little better now that I’m closer. There’s a slight flush to his face, and the hesitance I sensed when he came in is in his eyes.
“Are you upset?” he whispers.
“Upset?” I ask, confusion at his question filling me. “That you were with Dean? Of course not. Why were you walking on the side of the road?”
He swallows. “My father kicked me out.” He shrugs, stepping around me as if he didn’t just drop a bomb, acting like it’s nothing. Like it doesn’t matter. “It looks like you got a lot done here the last couple of days.”
I stop just behind him as he stares at the canvas. His eyes narrow, focusing on the figure in the painting—him, reclined in a chair, the beginnings of a pouty smile on his lips, his soulful eyes watching me through the brushstrokes.
“You’re painting me?” He turns slowly, meeting my gaze with a mix of surprise and something else, something softer. “From memory?”
My heart skips. “It was going to be a surprise,” I say, feeling nervous now as his attention lingers on the portrait.
His gaze traces every detail like he’s trying to see something in the lines I’ve painted. But I know this is his way of avoiding what’s really going on. He did it before. I press my lips together, debating on how to ask him if he’s okay—which of course he isn’t. Finally, I take a breath. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He lifts his eyebrows, pulling his attention away from the painting. “About sex with Dean or my father being a complete asshole?”
I can’t help but laugh, even though there’s nothing funny about any of this. “Both if you want.”
Chad bites his lip, emotions flickering across his face in quick succession. He looks like he’s struggling to keep it together. Then, with a sigh, he lets go.
“Well, apparently, my father thinks I’m useless. And Dean… wanted to prove to me that I’m not completely useless.”
Shock punches through me. “You are not useless, Chad. That’s a terrible thing to say—and completely untrue.”
I step closer, gently wrapping my hand around his arm. His eyes flicker down to where I’m touching him, and I feel the tension in his body, like he’s on the verge of snapping but holding on.
“Honestly, I don’t know what to believe.” He shakes his head, jaw tight. “He’s said it my whole life. Useless. Pathetic. A waste of space. I went to New York to escape him the second I could.”
He pauses. My chest aches, but I wait for him to continue. “Lakelyn, I always run from things. I always build walls. I don’t want to do that with you. Please don’t let me.”
Without thinking, I pull him into my arms, wrapping him in a tight embrace. He tenses for a second, then melts against me, burying his face in my neck. His breath is shaky, and when I hear the low, soft rumble of a purr coming from him, my heart breaks a little more.
“Chad, there’s nowhere you could run I wouldn’t follow,” I whisper, holding him closer, threading my fingers through his hair.
He shudders at my words, holding me tighter, like I’m the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely. “Promise me.”
I tilt my head, brushing my lips against his temple, keeping him close. “It’s more than a promise. It’s a soul contract. A bond our souls made before we were born.”
“I think I’m in love with you, Lakelyn.” His words are muffled against my skin, but I feel them through my entire body.
His breath is warm against my neck, his words sinking into my skin like a brand. My entire body freezes for a split second, his confession reverberating through me, making my heart race faster than it already was.
“I think I’m in love with you, Lakelyn,” he repeats, the words muffled against my skin, but this time they hit harder, deeper. They wrap around my heart like a vice, tightening with every beat.
My fingers curl into his hair, holding him closer, and my breath catches in my throat as his hands slip around my waist, pulling me flush against him. He’s trembling slightly, and I can feel the rawness of his emotions. Every guarded wall he’s ever built is crumbling right here in my arms, and it’s terrifying and beautiful all at once.
“Chad…” My voice is soft, barely a whisper, but I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to ruin this fragile moment by saying the wrong thing. Just ‘I love you too,’ doesn’t seem like enough.
His lips brush against my neck, sending a jolt of electricity down my spine. His movements are hesitant, like he’s testing the waters, waiting for me to pull away, to reject him. But I don’t. I can’t. I pull him closer instead, my body reacting before my mind can catch up.
“You don’t have to say it back, but I mean it,” he says, his voice a little shaky. “I can’t help it. Every time I’m around you… I just—” He pulls back slightly, just enough to look me in the eyes, his hands tightening on my waist. “You make me feel like I’m not broken. Like I matter.”
My heart stutters in my chest, and I can’t stop the way my hands slide down to rest on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath my palms. He’s looking at me with so much pure intensity, his eyes dark and filled with something I can’t name but feel deep inside.
“You do matter. More than you will ever know,” I whisper back.
He lets out a shaky breath, like he’s been holding it for too long. And then his lips are on mine—soft at first, tentative, but the moment I respond, something shifts. The kiss deepens, his hands sliding up my back as he presses me closer, like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go.
Heat floods my body, every nerve ending sparking to life as I kiss him back, harder, needier. His scent—sweet and tangy— envelops me, pulling me under, making it impossible to think straight. My fingers tangle in his hair, tugging slightly as I press my body against his.
He groans softly against my lips, his hands sliding down to grip my hips, his touch igniting a fire that spreads through me, leaving me breathless. “Lakelyn,” he murmurs between kisses, his voice rough, filled with need.
I can’t get enough of him, the way his mouth moves against mine, the way his body feels pressed against me, the way every touch sends a rush of heat pooling low in my belly. My mind spins, dizzy with the overwhelming need coursing through me.
We break apart, gasping for air, but it’s only for a second before his lips are on my neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along my skin. I tilt my head, giving him more access, my hands fisting in his shirt as I try to ground myself against the tidal wave of sensations crashing over me.
My slight perfume seems to explode from me, filling the space with blueberries. Mixing with his pheromones in a heady and lethal combination. The combined scent goes straight to my head, making me lightheaded.
“Chad,” I gasp, my breath coming in ragged bursts as his hands slide under my shirt, his fingers skimming over the bare skin of my back. Every touch feels like fire, burning away any hesitation.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispers against my skin, his voice low, desperate, like he’s fighting against his own desires. But there’s no way I want him to stop. Not now.
“Don’t,” I breathe out, tilting his face back up to mine, my lips brushing against his. “Don’t stop.”
His eyes search mine for a moment, as if he needs to be sure, and then he’s kissing me again—harder, more insistent, like he’s been holding back for too long. His hands roam my body, and I arch into his touch, heat spiraling through me, making it impossible to think of anything but him.
We stumble back toward the workbench, knocking into a few tools as his lips move down my throat again, making me shiver. I grip the edge of the table, trying to steady myself as he presses me up against it, his body pinning mine. His hand slides up my thigh, fingers brushing dangerously close to where I ache for him the most, and I gasp, my head falling back as his mouth moves lower, his breath hot against my skin.
"You're perfect," he breathes, his voice rough and filled with raw emotion. "I don't deserve you, but I don't care. I can't stop."
I cup his face, pulling him back up to kiss him, slow and deep, pouring everything I feel into the kiss. Every emotion, every unspoken word. It’s too much, and yet not enough all at once.
And it’s shattered in the space of a second when the bell above the door jingles and Mason walks in. Chad jerks away from me like he’s been caught in the act, which to be fair, we have.
Mason pauses with his hand on the doorknob half-way outside and half-way in. His eyes dart between us. He’s frozen in place, something unreadable crossing his face. It’s almost dark and primal, like I can see his alpha peeking out at us. I curl my fingers around the workbench at my back, as I drag in a breath of pure pheromones.
“Mase,” I start. His gaze snaps to mine, and my stomach tightens. I glance at Chad. We had a plan. And with the way Mason’s watching us, now might be the best time to make the first move.
He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just stands there watching us. Finally, he lets the door swing shut with a heavy thud. The bell jingles softly. His eyes don’t leave us though, and something flickers across his face. Something that makes my nipples harden even more.
We're silent as he takes in the scene. His nostrils flare slightly as he inhales, taking our combined scent into his lungs. He flicks his tongue out to wet his bottom lip as though tasting the scent of us on the air. His green eyes gleam with something dangerous. Then he blinks and it’s gone, and it’s the Mason I’ve always known standing in front of us.
“Don’t stop on my account,” he says with a smile. “Although there are probably better places for that.”