More Than Lies (More Than #1)(47)

Get a fucking grip Braden. It’ll never happen. You don’t want it to happen. It cannot happen, ever.

Tara is perfect, too, like my parents. She’s beautiful, sweet—way too sweet—and good. Everything I’m not. You know what happens when you mix oil and water? It doesn’t blend, not even a little bit.

I head with Tara in tow in the direction of what’s still referred to as the kid’s rooms. Each room has four bunk style beds in them with a conjoining full bathroom that connects the rooms. Before I make it there, Tara grasps onto my bicep, pulling herself closer into my body.

Not this shit; not tonight.

Tara turns her face into my neck, inhaling as if she’s pulling in my scent into her lungs. Who am I kidding? That’s exactly what she’s doing, and it sends chills running down my spine and increases the constriction I’m starting to feel in my pants.

“Mmmm,” purrs from deep in her throat. That sound only helps to spur my dick upward.

Drunken Tara equals bold Tara. She’s never like this when she is sober. Sober Tara would never have the guts to come onto me. Drunken Tara is a whole other person, and this isn’t the first time I’ve been in this situation. I wasn’t expecting it tonight, though. Usually tequila is involved when this occurs.

I shake my head trying to give her a hint to stop and be still. It doesn’t work. She pulls herself closer by running her palm from my bicep to my neck and pulling harder.

“You smell good.” Her voice is a low sexy rasp, and her breath is warm against my skin. “You smell like you.” I ignore her words the best I can. Talking to her only encourages Tara.

Tightening my grip around her legs, I use my other hand to open the door. Walking in, I bypass turning the light on. The room isn’t very large. There are two bunks on both sides of the wall to my left, a dresser, closet and the entrance to the bathroom to my right. Turning left, I hunch down, depositing Tara on one of the bottom bunks.

She doesn’t release me when I pull backwards.

“Goodnight, Tara.” I bite out. The sooner I stop touching her and get into my bed, the sooner I can shut off my brain and stop having unrealistic thoughts.

“It can be a good night,” I can see the smile play out on her lips thanks to the moon light shining in through the windows. The kids’ rooms don’t have blinds or curtains, which is my mother’s way of making sure everyone gets up at the butt crack of dawn. I complained a lot as a teenager wanting to sleep in, but now I see it differently. Not that I don’t like sleeping in; I love it, hence my non eight to five job. The missing window accents ensure we get all the ATV riding time possible.

“It will be a good night as soon as I’m asleep. You should do the same. Tomorrow will . . .” My words die on my lips as one of Tara’s hands slip underneath my T-shirt. “Tara,” I call out as her warm palm moves north. At least it wasn’t south . . . oh fuck, I thought too soon. The same palm glides downward, stopping above my jeans. “Stop this and go to sleep.”

“No.” My eyes snap to hers.

“You don’t want to play this game with me, little girl.”

Laughter erupts from her deep inside her throat. “Little girl, really? I’m three months older than you, Shawn.” She lets out a soft sign. “I most certainly do want to play.”

She wants to play? All right then, I’ll call her bluff. Tara can’t handle me no matter what she thinks.

I bend down so that my hard chest lightly brushes her soft plump tits. Everything about Tara is soft and something I need to stop thinking about at this very moment. Her breathing labors, making her chest rise and fall faster. Skimming my lips across her cheek, down to her ear, I whisper, “Are you sure?”

“Y-y-yes.” Her stutter is breathy.

I run the palm of my hand down her side, over her ass, and across her thigh. Her shorts are riding high on her hips and the skin on her legs is heated. Moving back up her outer thigh, I slip my hand under her shorts and continue my path until I’m cupping her full round ass. My hand is seated between the thin material of her cotton shorts and what feels like silk panties.

“Please.” That one word falling from that beautiful mouth almost makes me forget what I’m doing. She can’t want this—want me—not really. If she would take a minute and think about it, she’d realize what a mistake I’d be. I won’t be her mistake.

Faint noises from outside catch my attention, and then I hear the sound of the front door closing.

They’re here; our friends that is.

Without thinking further, I rip myself from under Tara’s bunk, moving lighting fast. I turn away from her, hearing a soft whimper of protest.

Kicking my shoes off, shucking my jeans, and pulling my T-shirt over my head takes mere moments before I’m jumping underneath the bunk across from Tara. By the time my head hits the pillow, the door is opening and in walks Mason and Matt. They are as quiet as possible before climbing on top of the bunks above Tara and me.

It’s hours before I’m able to sleep. The feel of Tara’s flesh burns on my hand for a long time.

It’ll never happen.





“Damn girl, that was delicious.” Kylie looks up from her empty plate to pay Tara a compliment on the breakfast we all just ate. A compliment that isn’t needed, not really, since even Tara knows she is a great cook.