Riptide Affair, page 15
“Make that two,” Kate says.
Harper grumbles something similar and I glance over to see Merrin blushing. She may be a siren in the sack, and she may blab to her friends about our love life—which is completely okay with me—but something tells me she's uncomfortable with our little love-bubble being discussed so brashly out in the open. It's cute.
“Three orgasms. Got it.” I stand, push in my chair, and offer Merrin my hand. “Ready to go? I'm gonna need a head start if we're aiming high tonight.”
She bats my hand away, rolling her eyes. “Actually, it's tank night.” She nudges a chin in the direction of the gigantic fish tank spanning the wall. The tank I know she hates. “And it's my turn.”
My eyes hop from Laura to Harper to Kate and then finally back to Merrin. “I thought you didn't clean the tank.”
“She doesn't,” Kate says with a smile, watching my girlfriend squirm at the very idea of being suspended above that much water. “But Jeb has a soft spot for her, so when it's Merrin's turn, he stays late and gets up on the ladder and does all the dirty work while she hands him the scrubbers and hose.”
Laura makes the sound of a whip snapping and all the girls giggle. If I didn't know Jeb already, I'd probably think he was whipped as well, but he's a fixture in this community and everyone knows that man has suffered more hardships and loss than anyone I know. It's not often he develops a soft spot for a person, but when he does, it sticks. And I get what he sees in Merrin. A kindred spirit. Loss recognizing loss.
I nudge Merrin's shoulder with my hip since she's sitting down. “Should I stay?”
I'm not sure why I want her answer to be yes, but I do. She's so independent most of the time, the fact that she has me at her disposal is irrelevant. I know she cares about me, but sometimes, I want her to need me.
“No, babe, you go on ahead.” She looks up and gives me a reassuring nod. “I won't be long. Tell Brian he better still be making margaritas when I get there.”
I kiss the top of her head, pretending I don't see all three of her friends watching me. “I'll save you some ice. Drive safe.”
It's on the tip of my tongue to say the words—the three damn words I haven't said in God knows how long—but I reel myself back in at the last second.
Tonight's not the night.
I kiss my girlfriend on the cheek, lingering a bit to enjoy the scent of her strawberry shampoo, and then leave.
It's hard as hell finding a parking spot in my own damn driveway when I finally make it home, but I manage to squeeze my Jeep in between two jacked up Fords parked in the yard. The only person living here who would give two shits about mud tires leaving ruts in the grass is Brian. If I know him at all, and I think I do, he's already sloshed so I doubt he even realizes his precious yard is being aerated in a less-than-gentle manner.
Even with the windows rolled up and the AC still on full blast, I can hear the thump of bass and cheering of guests. The party's in full swing already and it's barely nine.
I can barely get through the front door there are so many people. As I make my way through the living room, brushing arms with people dancing or staggering about, I spot a few guys I went to high school with, a gaggle of girls that graduated from Blackjack a few years after me, and at least fifty unfamiliar faces. In the middle of all the chaos is Brian, dancing his ass off, dressed in jean shorts and a simple white t-shirt with the words I'm Thirty, Bitches! written across the front in sloppy purple letters.
No matter how crazy this get-together turned out to be, I can't help but feel proud. If it were anyone else, Blackjack would have chewed Brian up and spit him out years ago. The people here have a tendency to lean toward cruelty instead of kindness, and anyone who is different tends to be ostracized and harassed just on fucked up principle. But Brian is resilient. He didn't let the meathead football players or holier-than-thou preacher's kids make him feel less than. Yes, there were times when I used my fists to communicate my displeasure at the way my brother was treated, but those idiots never backed down, no matter how many times I had to lay them on their asses.
Hateful people tend to wear their ignorance as a shield, and then go on to breed even more ignorance, which leads to the the creation of even more hateful people. It's a vicious cycle, one that has been rolling on like a well-oiled machine in Blackjack for generations. I'm just happy my brother survived, and not just that, but also manage to find a way to live here and thrive.
Nudging through a few more party-goers, I finally make my way to the kitchen and take a seat at the bar, a safe distance away from the bulk of the crowd. It's loud, and I already have a headache, but that's nothing my buddy Captain Morgan can't remedy.
I'm halfway through my third glass when Merrin finally walks through the door. My heart lurches upon seeing her and I stand, waving my hands in the air to get her attention like the love-struck fool I am.
“There you are!” she yells, smiling as she tries to navigate her way to me.
“Eeey!” I drain what's left of my drink and hop off the bar stool. “There's my girl! Hey! Guys, get out the way!”
She squeezes around bodies, muttering “excuse me” to everyone she passes, while I simply plow right on through. It seems to take a small infinity to reach her, but when I do, I grab hold of the fabric at her back and pull her to me.
“Hey, pretty lady.” I smack my lips to hers in a sloppy kiss. I'm half drunk and can definitely tell. So can she.
“You ass.” She slaps my chest. “You didn't wait for me?”
“Naw, babe, I didn't.” I bump my forehead against hers. She's so tiny. So beautiful. So mine. “I should be punished. Repeatedly.”
Even tipsy, I can see the way her eyes dilate. “Oh yeah?”
“Yup. How 'bout this? You spank me until I've learned my lesson, and then I spank you just for fun.”
Her head falls back when she laughs, along with the loose, curled hair I'll be running my fingers through later.
“I think I need a little more alcohol in my system before I agree to that, Mr. Sullivan.”
“Well then, let's get you fixed up.” I grab her hand and lead her to the bar set up in the middle of the living room. “What's your poison?”
“Hmm...” she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and glances around. I can tell she's nervous. This liquid courage should help. “Tequila?”
I'm surprised as hell but try not to show it. We haven't done much drinking together but I would have pegged her as having a taste for something sweeter.
“Okay then. Tequila it is.” I grab a bottle and a shot glass off the two-foot tall tower someone assembled before the party and fill it to the brim. Then, just because I seem to have left my better judgment at the door, I grab two more and fill those as well.
“That seems a little excessive,” Merrin teases.
I shrug. “You're far too sober for a party of this caliber.”
“Good point.” She stares down at the shot like she's searching for an answer she'll never find.
“Bottoms up, sweetheart.”
She takes a deep breath, steeling herself, and then throws them all back, one right after another. And she doesn't even flinch.
“My god that was attractive.”
She fans her face, already feeling the heat spreading throughout her body. I want to feel it too. The same heat. From the inside.
“Merrin! Merrin, come dance with us!”
The two of us turn around to find Brian waving wildly from the dance floor as Baby Got Back starts to thump through the speakers. It's his favorite.
“Go.” I nudge Merrin in front of me. “Get your dance on. I'll be here when you're done.”
Her entire demeanor changes and she shakes her head. “Absolutely not. I don't dance.”
I quirk a brow. “Oh yeah? Then what do you call that little strip tease you did for me the other day? That was dancing.”
“Strip tease?” Brian asks, coming up to join us. He's sweaty but smiling. “Who's doing a strip tease?”
“No one!” Merrin blurts. “Happy Birthday!”
“Are you drunk yet?” he screams over the music, leaning so close to her ear she has to be half-deaf now.
She shakes her head, cringing at his volume. “Not drunk yet!”
My little brother smiles, and it's one I've seen before. She's in so much trouble. Because even though he's kind and intelligent and overly-sweet, he's also just as mischievous.
“I'd remedy that real quick, darlin', because you're not going to bed until I see you up on that bar shaking your ass!”
The two of them look where he's pointing, to our kitchen bar which is now being used as a stage. There's a tall brunette wearing cutoffs and a bikini top, rolling her hips to the beat.
Merrin's face grows red. “Not a chance in hell, dude. There's not enough alcohol in the world to get me up there.”
Brian cocks his head to the side. “Jared already promised he'd do it.”
Wait, I did?
Holy shit, I did...
“C'mon,” he urges. “You're gonna tell me he's got more balls than you? The dude that couldn't even finish a race without his girlfriend dragging him across the finish line?”
Belatedly, I realize he's insulting me. “Hey! Not cool.”
They both ignore me.
“I'll get up there with you,” Brian says, taking Merrin's hand. “Besides, eighty-five percent of the people here are gay men. They might not appreciate the goods but that just means you'll have a room full of cheerleaders.”
I see the instant Merrin's resolve crumbles, and I'm already eyeing the spot right in front of the bar where I plan to plant my happy ass. No way am I giving up a front row seat to this.
“Whip me up one of your famous margaritas and then we'll talk.” She threads her arm through Brian's. “But it better be a big one.”
Brian gifts her with a beaming smile and raises his arm, ushering her toward the kitchen where the blender awaits. As I watch her ass disappear in the throng of people, I exhale a contented sigh.
I love this woman.
With everything in me, I love her...
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Merrin
If the hallway light was on, I'm certain everything would be spinning. But it's dark, so I trail my hand along the wall to keep myself upright. Somehow, I lost track of my number of shots, as well as my sanity, hours ago.
Jared retired to bed well before the party died down since he was too drunk to function, and I should have went with him because now I'm in the same boat. Soon to be the same bed.
I giggle to myself. I don't know what's funny, but something is.
Floating toward his room, arms outstretched, feet hitting the carpet in no particular pattern or order, I saunter forward. I just have to get to the bed. Just make it that far. The door's right up ahead. I can see it. It's soooo close.
The metal doorknob makes a sound when I slap it, so I slap it again. Another giggle gets lodged in my throat. I twist, enjoying the cool steel beneath my sweaty palms, and I'm granted access to the room of the man I love.
Love.
That's right.
I love him. I love Jared Sullivan.
I think I'll tell him.
Tomorrow.
Sober tomorrow.
He's in bed and doesn't stir when I enter. At least, I don't think he does.
“Shh!” I whisper to myself.
My dress gets tangled in my hair when I try to remove it, and I think I might need to call out for help because it's trying to kill me, but then—freedom. I sling it across the room.
Ha! Take that!
My bra and panties follow.
I don't care if he's drunk. Don't care if I'm drunk.
He's mine.
The mattress dips below my knees but doesn't squeak as I climb onto the bed, right up next to the warm body cocooned in a sheet. The slow rise and fall of his chest tells me he's out cold, but I've never had a better reason to wake someone from slumber.
He's mine.
I love him.
I want him.
Right now.
I search the covers with my hands, closing my eyes and giving into the darkness. It's easy enough for me to find the switch that will wake him, and I smile upon realizing it's already at half mast, just awaiting my touch.
I peel the sheet back and take him in my hand. His dick is hot to the touch. I rub up and down as he grows longer and thicker in my fist. A sleepy groan breaks the silence when he rolls onto his back and I take that as a 'yes, please continue'. Strong hips thrust forward and I don't waste time bowing over him, taking his entire length in my mouth.
“Fuck.”
His hips jerk so hard, he chokes me and I fight to regain the upper hand, to stop gagging. A hand flies to my hair and tugs. The other hand presses against my shoulder, and I know what he wants without a single word of direction. Rolling onto my back, relishing the way his warm, heavy body comes with me and crushes me to the mattress, I wrap my legs around his waist.
“Please,” I beg, grinding against him from below.
I open my mouth to say his name, to beg him to take me in a way we've never done before, but the edges of my vision blur. My ears begin to ring. The world tilts on its axis and I—
“Get up! Get the fuck UP!”
I bolt awake, my entire body aching, my heart hammering in fear.
It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust, but when my vision finally comes into focus, I don't understand what I'm seeing.
Jared's standing in the doorway, his face ruddy with anger, chest heaving with every breath. It's...well, it's terrifying. And I don't understand.
“What's wrong?” My voice is weak, cracking with the anxiety I'm trying to tamp down. “Why are you yelling?”
Jared laughs. He laughs, and it's so dark and ominous, I stiffen. This isn't like him.
“Why am I yelling? Why am I yelling?” He stalks forward until his shin meets the foot board and he's towering over me. “Here's a better question for you, Merrin. Why the fuck are you in bed with him?”
I'm just about to ask “in bed with who?” when I crane my neck to the side and see...
“Oh, God.”
All the breath is vacuumed from my lungs.
I can't breathe. Can barely speak enough to get those two words out as Rhett stares at me in shock, a white sheet draped over his body. His naked body. The same sheet that's draped over mine.
Our eyes meet and I have never seen so much fear.
I have never felt so much fear.
“No.”
No, no, no.
It's all I can think. All I can say.
Unthinking, I grab the sheet and roll out of bed, leaving Rhett to cover his nakedness with a pillow as I fall to the floor, doing everything in my power to keep myself covered. To keep my sins under wraps.
Tears sting my eyes the same time my stomach rolls. There's a dark entity squatting down inside me, trying to rip my body apart.
Despair.
It's claws are thick and crooked. It's teeth long and serrated. And it's trying its damnedest to destroy me.
This can't be happening.
This can't be happening.
This can't be happening.
I didn't do this.
I wouldn't do this!
“What the hell, man?” The pain in Jared's voice is just as fierce, just as all-consuming, just as tangible as his love. Both are felt in equal measure, because that's the kind of man he is. He feels everything. He gives everything to those he loves. His heart is always on his sleeve, whether beating proudly or bleeding profusely. Love and hate. Two of the strongest things a human being is capable of feeling, and now I have felt both as they are meant to be felt.
Love and hate.
His love for me.
His hatred for me.
With the birth of one, another dies.
Only one can survive, and the buzzards flapping to free themselves of my rib cage know exactly which to feast upon as their razor-bladed wings extend to take flight.
Jared points a single finger at me, cowering on the floor, while his eyes remained pinned to his brother.
“Did you fuck her?”
Betrayal and disgust flash in his eyes with every blink, and Rhett only stares, mouth gaping, eyes wide as he looks up at his brother. His twin.
It was a mistake.
An accident.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
I didn't mean for this to happen.
I love Jared.
I love Jared.
Jared curls his hands around the foot board until his knuckles turn white and the sound of antique oak groaning in protest is the only thing to be heard.
“I said, did you fuck her?”
Every word exits his mouth calmly, evenly. Which is how I know we're in a lethal situation. His anger is a copperhead backed into a corner. Coiled. Target acquired. Ready to strike.
I try my best to recall last night's events. Mind whirling a million miles an hour, frame after frame flashing, I seek out answers. The truth. But there are so many holes. A handful of dark frames. Black clouds mingled with color and laughter and alcohol-soaked memories.
Rhett clears his throat and I look up. He's looking at me. Me! Panic makes his bright blue eyes look rabid.
“I don't...I don't remem—”
“Do not lie to me,” Jared cuts him off, voice trembling. “Do not fucking do it.”
After a beat that goes on for a small eternity, Rhett's entire demeanor changes and he deflates like a sad, worn out party balloon.
No.
His posture confirms my greatest fear.
What I did.
What he did.
What we did together.
It's impossible.
I refuse to believe.
I would never...I couldn't...I'm not capable of that kind of cruelty.
Rhett closes his eyes, drops his head...and nods.
He nods.
And Jared turns his back on both of us, fisting both hands in his hair. I hold my breath and wait. I can't see his face. I need that face. I need to grab it and hold it and beg for forgiveness, confess, repent, profess my love.
But that ship has already sailed, and here I am. Cemented to the floor. Forced to wait for his reaction. Seconds tick by, each one easing us closer to the inevitable.
Harper grumbles something similar and I glance over to see Merrin blushing. She may be a siren in the sack, and she may blab to her friends about our love life—which is completely okay with me—but something tells me she's uncomfortable with our little love-bubble being discussed so brashly out in the open. It's cute.
“Three orgasms. Got it.” I stand, push in my chair, and offer Merrin my hand. “Ready to go? I'm gonna need a head start if we're aiming high tonight.”
She bats my hand away, rolling her eyes. “Actually, it's tank night.” She nudges a chin in the direction of the gigantic fish tank spanning the wall. The tank I know she hates. “And it's my turn.”
My eyes hop from Laura to Harper to Kate and then finally back to Merrin. “I thought you didn't clean the tank.”
“She doesn't,” Kate says with a smile, watching my girlfriend squirm at the very idea of being suspended above that much water. “But Jeb has a soft spot for her, so when it's Merrin's turn, he stays late and gets up on the ladder and does all the dirty work while she hands him the scrubbers and hose.”
Laura makes the sound of a whip snapping and all the girls giggle. If I didn't know Jeb already, I'd probably think he was whipped as well, but he's a fixture in this community and everyone knows that man has suffered more hardships and loss than anyone I know. It's not often he develops a soft spot for a person, but when he does, it sticks. And I get what he sees in Merrin. A kindred spirit. Loss recognizing loss.
I nudge Merrin's shoulder with my hip since she's sitting down. “Should I stay?”
I'm not sure why I want her answer to be yes, but I do. She's so independent most of the time, the fact that she has me at her disposal is irrelevant. I know she cares about me, but sometimes, I want her to need me.
“No, babe, you go on ahead.” She looks up and gives me a reassuring nod. “I won't be long. Tell Brian he better still be making margaritas when I get there.”
I kiss the top of her head, pretending I don't see all three of her friends watching me. “I'll save you some ice. Drive safe.”
It's on the tip of my tongue to say the words—the three damn words I haven't said in God knows how long—but I reel myself back in at the last second.
Tonight's not the night.
I kiss my girlfriend on the cheek, lingering a bit to enjoy the scent of her strawberry shampoo, and then leave.
It's hard as hell finding a parking spot in my own damn driveway when I finally make it home, but I manage to squeeze my Jeep in between two jacked up Fords parked in the yard. The only person living here who would give two shits about mud tires leaving ruts in the grass is Brian. If I know him at all, and I think I do, he's already sloshed so I doubt he even realizes his precious yard is being aerated in a less-than-gentle manner.
Even with the windows rolled up and the AC still on full blast, I can hear the thump of bass and cheering of guests. The party's in full swing already and it's barely nine.
I can barely get through the front door there are so many people. As I make my way through the living room, brushing arms with people dancing or staggering about, I spot a few guys I went to high school with, a gaggle of girls that graduated from Blackjack a few years after me, and at least fifty unfamiliar faces. In the middle of all the chaos is Brian, dancing his ass off, dressed in jean shorts and a simple white t-shirt with the words I'm Thirty, Bitches! written across the front in sloppy purple letters.
No matter how crazy this get-together turned out to be, I can't help but feel proud. If it were anyone else, Blackjack would have chewed Brian up and spit him out years ago. The people here have a tendency to lean toward cruelty instead of kindness, and anyone who is different tends to be ostracized and harassed just on fucked up principle. But Brian is resilient. He didn't let the meathead football players or holier-than-thou preacher's kids make him feel less than. Yes, there were times when I used my fists to communicate my displeasure at the way my brother was treated, but those idiots never backed down, no matter how many times I had to lay them on their asses.
Hateful people tend to wear their ignorance as a shield, and then go on to breed even more ignorance, which leads to the the creation of even more hateful people. It's a vicious cycle, one that has been rolling on like a well-oiled machine in Blackjack for generations. I'm just happy my brother survived, and not just that, but also manage to find a way to live here and thrive.
Nudging through a few more party-goers, I finally make my way to the kitchen and take a seat at the bar, a safe distance away from the bulk of the crowd. It's loud, and I already have a headache, but that's nothing my buddy Captain Morgan can't remedy.
I'm halfway through my third glass when Merrin finally walks through the door. My heart lurches upon seeing her and I stand, waving my hands in the air to get her attention like the love-struck fool I am.
“There you are!” she yells, smiling as she tries to navigate her way to me.
“Eeey!” I drain what's left of my drink and hop off the bar stool. “There's my girl! Hey! Guys, get out the way!”
She squeezes around bodies, muttering “excuse me” to everyone she passes, while I simply plow right on through. It seems to take a small infinity to reach her, but when I do, I grab hold of the fabric at her back and pull her to me.
“Hey, pretty lady.” I smack my lips to hers in a sloppy kiss. I'm half drunk and can definitely tell. So can she.
“You ass.” She slaps my chest. “You didn't wait for me?”
“Naw, babe, I didn't.” I bump my forehead against hers. She's so tiny. So beautiful. So mine. “I should be punished. Repeatedly.”
Even tipsy, I can see the way her eyes dilate. “Oh yeah?”
“Yup. How 'bout this? You spank me until I've learned my lesson, and then I spank you just for fun.”
Her head falls back when she laughs, along with the loose, curled hair I'll be running my fingers through later.
“I think I need a little more alcohol in my system before I agree to that, Mr. Sullivan.”
“Well then, let's get you fixed up.” I grab her hand and lead her to the bar set up in the middle of the living room. “What's your poison?”
“Hmm...” she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and glances around. I can tell she's nervous. This liquid courage should help. “Tequila?”
I'm surprised as hell but try not to show it. We haven't done much drinking together but I would have pegged her as having a taste for something sweeter.
“Okay then. Tequila it is.” I grab a bottle and a shot glass off the two-foot tall tower someone assembled before the party and fill it to the brim. Then, just because I seem to have left my better judgment at the door, I grab two more and fill those as well.
“That seems a little excessive,” Merrin teases.
I shrug. “You're far too sober for a party of this caliber.”
“Good point.” She stares down at the shot like she's searching for an answer she'll never find.
“Bottoms up, sweetheart.”
She takes a deep breath, steeling herself, and then throws them all back, one right after another. And she doesn't even flinch.
“My god that was attractive.”
She fans her face, already feeling the heat spreading throughout her body. I want to feel it too. The same heat. From the inside.
“Merrin! Merrin, come dance with us!”
The two of us turn around to find Brian waving wildly from the dance floor as Baby Got Back starts to thump through the speakers. It's his favorite.
“Go.” I nudge Merrin in front of me. “Get your dance on. I'll be here when you're done.”
Her entire demeanor changes and she shakes her head. “Absolutely not. I don't dance.”
I quirk a brow. “Oh yeah? Then what do you call that little strip tease you did for me the other day? That was dancing.”
“Strip tease?” Brian asks, coming up to join us. He's sweaty but smiling. “Who's doing a strip tease?”
“No one!” Merrin blurts. “Happy Birthday!”
“Are you drunk yet?” he screams over the music, leaning so close to her ear she has to be half-deaf now.
She shakes her head, cringing at his volume. “Not drunk yet!”
My little brother smiles, and it's one I've seen before. She's in so much trouble. Because even though he's kind and intelligent and overly-sweet, he's also just as mischievous.
“I'd remedy that real quick, darlin', because you're not going to bed until I see you up on that bar shaking your ass!”
The two of them look where he's pointing, to our kitchen bar which is now being used as a stage. There's a tall brunette wearing cutoffs and a bikini top, rolling her hips to the beat.
Merrin's face grows red. “Not a chance in hell, dude. There's not enough alcohol in the world to get me up there.”
Brian cocks his head to the side. “Jared already promised he'd do it.”
Wait, I did?
Holy shit, I did...
“C'mon,” he urges. “You're gonna tell me he's got more balls than you? The dude that couldn't even finish a race without his girlfriend dragging him across the finish line?”
Belatedly, I realize he's insulting me. “Hey! Not cool.”
They both ignore me.
“I'll get up there with you,” Brian says, taking Merrin's hand. “Besides, eighty-five percent of the people here are gay men. They might not appreciate the goods but that just means you'll have a room full of cheerleaders.”
I see the instant Merrin's resolve crumbles, and I'm already eyeing the spot right in front of the bar where I plan to plant my happy ass. No way am I giving up a front row seat to this.
“Whip me up one of your famous margaritas and then we'll talk.” She threads her arm through Brian's. “But it better be a big one.”
Brian gifts her with a beaming smile and raises his arm, ushering her toward the kitchen where the blender awaits. As I watch her ass disappear in the throng of people, I exhale a contented sigh.
I love this woman.
With everything in me, I love her...
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Merrin
If the hallway light was on, I'm certain everything would be spinning. But it's dark, so I trail my hand along the wall to keep myself upright. Somehow, I lost track of my number of shots, as well as my sanity, hours ago.
Jared retired to bed well before the party died down since he was too drunk to function, and I should have went with him because now I'm in the same boat. Soon to be the same bed.
I giggle to myself. I don't know what's funny, but something is.
Floating toward his room, arms outstretched, feet hitting the carpet in no particular pattern or order, I saunter forward. I just have to get to the bed. Just make it that far. The door's right up ahead. I can see it. It's soooo close.
The metal doorknob makes a sound when I slap it, so I slap it again. Another giggle gets lodged in my throat. I twist, enjoying the cool steel beneath my sweaty palms, and I'm granted access to the room of the man I love.
Love.
That's right.
I love him. I love Jared Sullivan.
I think I'll tell him.
Tomorrow.
Sober tomorrow.
He's in bed and doesn't stir when I enter. At least, I don't think he does.
“Shh!” I whisper to myself.
My dress gets tangled in my hair when I try to remove it, and I think I might need to call out for help because it's trying to kill me, but then—freedom. I sling it across the room.
Ha! Take that!
My bra and panties follow.
I don't care if he's drunk. Don't care if I'm drunk.
He's mine.
The mattress dips below my knees but doesn't squeak as I climb onto the bed, right up next to the warm body cocooned in a sheet. The slow rise and fall of his chest tells me he's out cold, but I've never had a better reason to wake someone from slumber.
He's mine.
I love him.
I want him.
Right now.
I search the covers with my hands, closing my eyes and giving into the darkness. It's easy enough for me to find the switch that will wake him, and I smile upon realizing it's already at half mast, just awaiting my touch.
I peel the sheet back and take him in my hand. His dick is hot to the touch. I rub up and down as he grows longer and thicker in my fist. A sleepy groan breaks the silence when he rolls onto his back and I take that as a 'yes, please continue'. Strong hips thrust forward and I don't waste time bowing over him, taking his entire length in my mouth.
“Fuck.”
His hips jerk so hard, he chokes me and I fight to regain the upper hand, to stop gagging. A hand flies to my hair and tugs. The other hand presses against my shoulder, and I know what he wants without a single word of direction. Rolling onto my back, relishing the way his warm, heavy body comes with me and crushes me to the mattress, I wrap my legs around his waist.
“Please,” I beg, grinding against him from below.
I open my mouth to say his name, to beg him to take me in a way we've never done before, but the edges of my vision blur. My ears begin to ring. The world tilts on its axis and I—
“Get up! Get the fuck UP!”
I bolt awake, my entire body aching, my heart hammering in fear.
It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust, but when my vision finally comes into focus, I don't understand what I'm seeing.
Jared's standing in the doorway, his face ruddy with anger, chest heaving with every breath. It's...well, it's terrifying. And I don't understand.
“What's wrong?” My voice is weak, cracking with the anxiety I'm trying to tamp down. “Why are you yelling?”
Jared laughs. He laughs, and it's so dark and ominous, I stiffen. This isn't like him.
“Why am I yelling? Why am I yelling?” He stalks forward until his shin meets the foot board and he's towering over me. “Here's a better question for you, Merrin. Why the fuck are you in bed with him?”
I'm just about to ask “in bed with who?” when I crane my neck to the side and see...
“Oh, God.”
All the breath is vacuumed from my lungs.
I can't breathe. Can barely speak enough to get those two words out as Rhett stares at me in shock, a white sheet draped over his body. His naked body. The same sheet that's draped over mine.
Our eyes meet and I have never seen so much fear.
I have never felt so much fear.
“No.”
No, no, no.
It's all I can think. All I can say.
Unthinking, I grab the sheet and roll out of bed, leaving Rhett to cover his nakedness with a pillow as I fall to the floor, doing everything in my power to keep myself covered. To keep my sins under wraps.
Tears sting my eyes the same time my stomach rolls. There's a dark entity squatting down inside me, trying to rip my body apart.
Despair.
It's claws are thick and crooked. It's teeth long and serrated. And it's trying its damnedest to destroy me.
This can't be happening.
This can't be happening.
This can't be happening.
I didn't do this.
I wouldn't do this!
“What the hell, man?” The pain in Jared's voice is just as fierce, just as all-consuming, just as tangible as his love. Both are felt in equal measure, because that's the kind of man he is. He feels everything. He gives everything to those he loves. His heart is always on his sleeve, whether beating proudly or bleeding profusely. Love and hate. Two of the strongest things a human being is capable of feeling, and now I have felt both as they are meant to be felt.
Love and hate.
His love for me.
His hatred for me.
With the birth of one, another dies.
Only one can survive, and the buzzards flapping to free themselves of my rib cage know exactly which to feast upon as their razor-bladed wings extend to take flight.
Jared points a single finger at me, cowering on the floor, while his eyes remained pinned to his brother.
“Did you fuck her?”
Betrayal and disgust flash in his eyes with every blink, and Rhett only stares, mouth gaping, eyes wide as he looks up at his brother. His twin.
It was a mistake.
An accident.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
I didn't mean for this to happen.
I love Jared.
I love Jared.
Jared curls his hands around the foot board until his knuckles turn white and the sound of antique oak groaning in protest is the only thing to be heard.
“I said, did you fuck her?”
Every word exits his mouth calmly, evenly. Which is how I know we're in a lethal situation. His anger is a copperhead backed into a corner. Coiled. Target acquired. Ready to strike.
I try my best to recall last night's events. Mind whirling a million miles an hour, frame after frame flashing, I seek out answers. The truth. But there are so many holes. A handful of dark frames. Black clouds mingled with color and laughter and alcohol-soaked memories.
Rhett clears his throat and I look up. He's looking at me. Me! Panic makes his bright blue eyes look rabid.
“I don't...I don't remem—”
“Do not lie to me,” Jared cuts him off, voice trembling. “Do not fucking do it.”
After a beat that goes on for a small eternity, Rhett's entire demeanor changes and he deflates like a sad, worn out party balloon.
No.
His posture confirms my greatest fear.
What I did.
What he did.
What we did together.
It's impossible.
I refuse to believe.
I would never...I couldn't...I'm not capable of that kind of cruelty.
Rhett closes his eyes, drops his head...and nods.
He nods.
And Jared turns his back on both of us, fisting both hands in his hair. I hold my breath and wait. I can't see his face. I need that face. I need to grab it and hold it and beg for forgiveness, confess, repent, profess my love.
But that ship has already sailed, and here I am. Cemented to the floor. Forced to wait for his reaction. Seconds tick by, each one easing us closer to the inevitable.
