Chapter 13 Mellie
MELLIE
Ishould put some clothes on, demand that he leave until I’m dressed, but letting Lyric comfort me feels… good.
You don’t know him!
My mind might not recognize him outside of brief flashes, but my body is screaming for Lyric. Not that I’ll act on it.
“Aw, Mellie,” he croons, his arms wrapped around me like a warm blanket. “It’s not your fault. Why would you think that?”
The question takes me by surprise. “If I h-hadn’t been at t-that st-stupid hotel…”
Lyric stiffens, his gaze locking with mine. “You remember that?”
My eyes widen. “I… Yeah,” I reply but shake my head. “But I can’t… I don’t remember why I was with Pop or where we were going.”
“I can, uh, fill in some of those gaps for you,” he offers. “If you want, that is.”
Do I want that?
The doctor said to let my memory return on its own, but what if that never happens? What if I’m destined to never fully recover, only catching glimpses into my past when they decide to flash in my mind?
Fuck it.
“Please,” I say softly. “But can I get some clothes and a few inches of space first? Not sure I’ll be able to focus with that pipe poking me through your pants.”
For a moment, I worry that I’ve offended him, but then he throws his head back and laughs.
“There’s my girl,” he says when he sobers. “Fuck, I love you.”
Without missing a beat, he stands and stalks toward a dresser. He returns with a pair of sweats, a t-shirt, and a hoodie, all of which don’t look like they’d fit him at all.
“Here ya go. They’re yours,” he adds when I don’t immediately take them.
“Not Peach’s?” I ask, arching a brow.
Why that thought entered my conscience, I have no clue.
“Peach?” he counters. “Why the fuck would you think the clothes belong to her?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Got a weird vibe from her. Thought maybe there was something between the two of you.”
Lyric snorts. “That bitch? Hell no. She’s tried to get in my bed a few times, but that hasn’t happened since…”
“Since when?” I prod when he doesn’t finish.
“Since I asked you to marry me.”
Taking the clothes from his hand, I take the time to get dressed and ponder that new piece of information. As soon as I’m covered, I climb back onto the mattress and curl up under the blanket.
“Okay, now we can talk,” I say.
He sits next to me but stays on top of the blanket. “One thing I need to make very clear,” he begins. “You have always been and will always be the only girl for me, Mellie. There’s never been anyone else.”
“Seriously?”
He thrusts a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how much to say and how much to keep back, ya know? The doctor said—”
“I don’t give a damn what the doctor said,” I snap, and I immediately want to call the words back when he frowns. “Sorry. It’s just… How about this? If I ask a question, answer it. If it starts to sound like something I think you shouldn’t tell me, I’ll shut you up.”
He leans his head against the black leather headboard. “Works for me. But I have one condition.”
I eye him skeptically. “What’s your condition?”
“If you want to shut me up, you have to kiss me.”
A jolt of pleasure at the idea of tasting him goes straight to my core, but I pretend to think about his condition for a few minutes. Finally, I nod.
“Okay. Agreed.”
He grins, and if he’d given me panties to put on, they’d be wet. “Okay. Go ahead and ask your questions.”
“You still haven’t answered my last one,” I remind him.
“Ah. You want to know if I was telling the truth about there only ever being you, right?”
“Well, yeah.”
“It’s true. You were my first,” he continues. “And you’ll be my last.”
“What about me?”
“What about you?” he counters.
“Have I been with anyone else besides you?”
“No.”
“You sound sure about that,” I say.
“I am.”
“So, we’ve been together for a long time?”
“Since high school,” he confirms.
“How’d we meet?”
“Oh, now there’s a story.”
I sit up and scoot back to settle next to him, our arms touching. “Tell me?”
“We were in seventh grade,” he begins. “You transferred from another school about a month in when your dad’s job brought him to Tacoma.
It was the end of the day, and Johnny Millhouse was blocking you from leaving the building.
” Lyric shakes his head with a scowl. “I can still see the look on your face when he called you a slut. Fuck, I was furious.”
“Why’d he call me a slut?” I ask incredulously, trying to recall the scene as he tells it.
He shrugs. “Don’t know for sure, but I’m guessing it was your short skirt, tight top, and knee-high boots over fishnets.”
“Oh my God, I didn’t,” I groan.
Lyric reaches over to brush a strand of hair away from my face. “You did, and I, for one, thought you were sexy as hell. But Johnny was a prick, and I was later told that you turned him down when he asked you to be his partner for a science project. I’m guessing that’s what set him off.”
“Asshole,” I mutter.
“He really was, so I punched him, knocking him out cold right there in the hallway.” He smirks, clearly still proud of himself. “Fucker never bothered you again, and you and I became inseparable.”
“In other words, you were my knight in shining armor,” I say with a laugh.
“I guess. Although, I didn’t step in with that in mind. I just did what any man worth his salt would do.”
“You were a boy.”
“A boy who was raised by a biker,” Lyric says. “I may have only been in seventh grade, but I’d seen and done things millions of men would never even contemplate.”
“Makes sense.”
He nods. “So, any other questions?”
“Yes, actually.” I hesitate, desperately wanting to see how he’ll respond but also terrified that I’ll sound stupid.
“Spit it out, baby,” he insists.
“Were things…” Dammit, this is hard. “With you and me… Was the sex good between us?”
Lyric rears back and stares at me like I’ve grown an extra head. “That’s your question?”
I nod as I fidget with my hands. “I don’t remember a lot of things, an—”
“And sex is one of those things,” he says.
“Yes.”
He continues to stare at me for a second before he leans forward and presses his lips to my ear. Lyric whispers dirty words from “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails, sending a shiver through me.
He cups my cheek, turns me to face him, and presses his lips to mine. The kiss is soft but potent. It’s full of promise and passion and a shared history that I frantically need to remember.
His touch doesn’t last, and when he pulls back, I whimper, which causes him to chuckle.
“You tell me, Mellie,” he says. “Was the sex between us good?”