20. Sarah
20
SARAH
Saying I didn't hear Ian trying to get information from my aunt as I was about to enter my room here would be a lie, but I close the door behind me and leave her to handle it.
I know I can trust her to keep my secrets for however long I need her to.
She's been like a mother to me since my mom passed. Always shielding me and making sure that no harm comes to me.
Sighing, I enter farther into the room and begin to shed my clothes.
It's been a long day. An even longer drive. It's a wonder I didn't lose my mind.
Ian was thoughtful, trying to make me smile with his jokes, but there's just too much on my mind.
I walk into the bathroom naked and remain under the shower for ten minutes. I would run a bath and soak myself in it for hours if I didn't think I'd fall asleep.
I'm so tired.
I yawn as I step back into the room and check for some of my clothes that I kept back when I used to stay here.
When I first returned to Glazer Ville, my aunt took me in. And she gave me not only a roof over my head but a home, too.
It took a lot of back and forth before she eventually let me move to my house. I had to literally paint the picture of me bringing a man home and her having to hear us have sex before she gave up.
Of course, I haven’t taken any man to my house since I got it, except Ian, but she doesn't know that, and she doesn't ever need to. I just wanted to have some freedom.
And no, I wasn't tired of her or anything. My aunt is one of the loveliest people you'll ever come across. I just wanted to have my own space.
As if summoned by my thoughts, I hear someone knocking on my door, and I immediately know it's her.
Quickly slipping one of my old nightgowns on, I go to open the door. She's holding a tray with a glass filled with iced tea and a plate with a huge portion of cake. She just never runs out of food.
Smiling, I take the tray from her hand and thank her. I'm not surprised when she enters the room.
“He's sleeping on the couch in the living room,” she says.
“Does he have a pillow and blanket?”
“I got him those.”
“Thanks.” I smile, and she nods.
There's something she wants to say, but she doesn't say it. Instead, she shakes her head and walks away.
“Good night,” she says.
“Good night, Auntie. Love you.”
“Love you too, sweet girl,” she whispers and closes the door behind her.
Sweet girl. That's the name she’s called me for the majority of my life. She doesn't call me that often now. Olivia has taken the name from me, but sometimes, in rare moments like this, she lets it slip, and it takes me right back to my childhood days.
I miss my mom. Now more than ever.
I wonder what she'd say to everything that's happening now if she was still alive. She'd probably not even be in support of me helping my dad.
She hated him from the moment he left.
My dad. Can I even call Neville that?
Sure, he passed out earlier, but I found out he was awake when I got to the hospital. He hasn't even called to check in on me since then.
Do I mean so little to him?
Is remaining alive the only reason he came looking for me?
I tried to believe that maybe he wanted more from me than my bone marrow, but now I'm just not so sure. Especially with how quickly Peter and Lauren’s reactions to me switched after I told them I couldn't help save their dad because of some complication.
Yes, he's their dad, not mine.
Maybe he once was mine, but not anymore.
Sighing, I force myself to eat the food brought for me. Not for my sake, but for the sake of having some energy.
When I'm done, the sleep I thought was going to overcome me is now distant. I roll restlessly in bed, unable to get a wink of sleep. I give up on sleeping about two hours into my endless rolling about and exit my room.
Ian is asleep when I enter the living room, which isn't much of a surprise.
Walking toward him, I watch him sleep for a few minutes, wondering how he's going to react when he finds out the secret I'm keeping from him.
He'll probably reject me like he always does.
Knowing him, he'll give me one bullshit reason about how he doesn't think he'll be good enough and then run away from me.
Can I really handle that?
Can I tell him the truth?
And if I decide not to, how much longer can I keep the truth away from him?
A couple of months? Tops.
I hate this. I hate this whole situation. I step out onto my aunt’s porch to get some air.
“Can't sleep?” Ian's voice comes from behind me, shocking me.
My grip on the railing slips, and I find myself flying forward, but I never make it to the ground. Ian's hands wrap around my waist, and instead of falling onto the floor, I fall into his chest.
Damn, he is solid.
I look down at his chest, his very naked chest, and flex my palms. He must have removed his shirt before he fell asleep. How I hadn't noticed that is beyond me.
This whole thing is driving me mad.
Driven by the need to forget all that's happening, I raise my head, and I see that his eyes are on me.
Swallowing, I push forward and let my lips touch his. He doesn't say anything, and he doesn't push me away.
Not that I was expecting him to.
I let my lips softly brush over his. He moans. I groan. My whole body becomes liquid with need.
I need him.
I ditch soft and easy and go for hard and passionate.
His hands on my waist flex, and he grabs me harder. His big palm sears hot through the flimsy material of my nightwear.
I suddenly wish the material wasn't even there to begin with, flimsy or not. I want us both naked and connected. Who knows if this is the last time I'll ever get to have him again?
He may leave when he finds out the truth.
Taking my hands to the back of his neck, I press further into his body. My nipples are now perked and in need of any sort of friction. I rub them against his chest, and he groans, his breath harsh against my lips.
Just when my inside begins to melt with giddiness thinking he's going to take me here and now, he breaks the kiss and pulls away from me.
“Why did you stop?” I ask him in confusion.
“This isn't right, Sarah. I know you're hiding something from me.”
No. No. No.
Not now. Please.
“Ian,” I breathe out in frustration, reaching out to touch him, but he steps out of my grasp.
Damn it.
“Tell me what you're hiding.”
A groan of frustration trickles up my throat and I have to force it down. “Come on. You're really going to kill what we have going on right now to have that discussion?” I ask, purposely playing with my nipples. His eyes follow my action, and I almost rejoice at the prospect of getting him, but he blinks and looks away.
“You're not going to distract me. Tell me what's going on.”
Ugh. Of all the times for him to be hardheaded, now's the worst time.
“Ian, come on. I need you right now,” I whine in frustration.
“And I want you, too. Here…” Grabbing my hand, he places it on his hot and pulsing erection. I moan at the contact. “Feel what you're doing to me. But I can't take you when I feel like there's something between us. You have to let me in. Come on, remember how you called me out on not letting you in at the motel and how it isn't doing me any good? Well, now you're doing the same.”
Why does he have to make so much sense and annoy me at the same time?
“This is different,” I say.
“I wouldn't know. You're not telling me what's going on.”
“I will! Okay?” I snap at him. Huffing, I reduce my volume. “I will tell you what's going on. I promise. I just need to figure some things out and make sure I have all the facts right before I can tell you. Please, just trust me.”
I'm not exactly lying. I do have some things to figure out, and maybe then I'll tell him.
“You promise?” he asks me with narrowed eyes, his defense already slipping.
“Yes,” I whisper and move close to him. This time, he lets me.
I bring my palms to his back and let them caress the ridge of his muscles and the evidence of some of the things he's been through in life.
Every scar my palm sketches over gets a reaction from him. By the time my hand finally comes back to rest on his chest again, he's breathing hard.
This time when our lips meet, it's with an urgency that wasn't in our first kiss.
We suck. We lick. We pull. And we kiss the living daylights out of one another.
When he finally breaks the kiss again. I am very much wet and ready to shed my clothes so he can fuck me right on my aunt's porch for her neighbors to see.
I really don't care.
I want him. And he's here right now. That's all that matters.
Reading the desire in my eyes, Ian takes a palm to my jaw and caresses it. A playful smile on his lips.
“I think I'm in love with this mouth of yours,” he whispers, taking a thumb to trace my lips.
All I can breathe out is, “Oh.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, oh. I imagine all the things I can do with it. There's one particular image I can't get out of my head. Want to know what it is?”
I nod like an idiot.
Leaning so his lips are to my ear, he whispers, “My dick between your lips.”
Shit.
Yes, please.
“Ian,” I moan his name needily.
Pushing back from me, he grabs me by the hips and turns me so I'm leaning against the railing. Pushing his hips to my back, he thrusts a hand between my legs and shifts my gown up.
His hands are between my pussy lips before I can blink, caressing them and toying with my clit enough to drive me crazy but not enough to make me come.
“Ian, please. I need a finger inside,” I whisper, not wanting to be too loud.
The idea of being out here for anyone to see may not scare me, but I don't need my aunt waking up and coming out here.
“Nah, I think I'll just continue at this pace and see how patient you can be.”
He's punishing me for not telling him what's going on.
Damn him.