More Than Lies (More Than #1)(80)

“You’re coming. Now get whatever you need for the night, and let’s go.” Luckily she doesn’t argue. She grabs a purse and a large white bag. I take the bag from her shoulder and push her toward the door.

Five minutes later, we are parked outside my parents’ house. I turn off the engine. Neither of us have spoken since we left the Evans house. What do you say to someone that lost the only person in their family that gave a damn about them? Loved them. I can’t relate to that. I’m not bragging when I say this. It’s just a fact; I have an amazing family. One I’m grateful for every single day.

She opens the passenger door and slides out. I grab my keys and do the same, following her inside and up the stairs. Remaining silent, we each head for our bedrooms. As soon as I enter mine, I remove my jacket and tie and toss them on my bed. I’ve been itching to do that all day. I hate suits.

As I begin to unbutton my shirt, I turn to walk over to the dresser, but stop as I see Tara standing before me.

Damn, she’s beautiful. Even sad and tired she is stunning. She doesn’t even know how rapturing she is, and I think that’s what has always captivated me. Okay, that’s a lie. She captured my attention from day one.

My gaze drops to her lips. “Need something?” I ask. Those motherfucking lips. So plump and naturally crimson. They are perfect to suck on, bite, and kiss.

I need to get her out of my bedroom. The last thing she needs is another unbridled sexual ravaging from me after the day she’s had. I may know there isn’t a future in store for us, but that doesn’t mean I don’t crave seconds, and thirds, and a whole fucking feast for that matter.

“You.” The word is a whisper, but it’s like a shout out to my already aroused dick. I shut my eyes. If I can’t see her standing in front of me, in that black dress and bare feet, then I can imagine something else. Something I don’t desire.

“You should get in bed, Tara. Get some sleep.” Her body steps into mine. Her palms slide over my hips. This isn’t helping matters any. I’m trying to do the right thing here.

I don’t want to be her crutch. I don’t want to just be the mechanism to help her forget her pain any more than I want to be her regret.

Damn it . . . I’m not supposed to want more than I deserve.

Her hands slide up slowly over my shirt. Her knee wedges between my legs, pressing against my hardened cock.

I want her more than I want to wake up tomorrow.

That realization has my hands fisting into tight balls at my sides.

Her movements halt, then I feel her back away from me. My eyes fly open. What I see reflecting back at me causes constriction inside my chest. Her dark blues eyes are crushed. Why?

“You—” Her voice cracks. “You don’t . . .” She doesn’t finish her sentence. Instead she turns and runs. I scrub my palm over my face, through my hair, and back down. I don’t understand. What the fuck did I do?

The sound of the front door closing jolts my body into action. She can’t leave; she doesn’t have a vehicle here. It’s back home in Oxford.

By the time I make it outside, I witness her running behind Mason’s house. His bedroom is on the backside and he has a door leading outdoors. Shoving my hand into my front pocket, I grab for my cell phone. My hands fumble to unlock the motherfucker, but once I do, I call his number.

The call rings through to voice mail. I’ll do this all night if I have to. I’m doing him a favor by calling instead of walking over. It’s already after nine at night. Mrs. Naree will shit a brick if she finds his friends coming and going this late at night.

I press end and repeat the process. After five rings, he picks up.

“Want to explain?” Mason answers and I hear a door close. I’m guessing he stepped onto the deck outside his bedroom door.

“If I could, I would. What did she say?”

“Nothing . . . yet. She walked in crying just as you called. Didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.”

“Dude, I don’t fucking know what I did to upset her. Can you let me talk to her?”

“Yeah . . . no. Look, whatever it is, I’ll find out and defuse. Talk to her tomorrow after she’s slept.” I won’t get any sleep until I know what happened back in my room. I need to speak to her. I know she’s had a rough day, but . . . fuck.

“Where is she going to sleep?”

“My bed. Layla is in bed with Ky, but I’m not shoving Taralynn in a room alone

“Dude.” I breathe. “Please don’t—I mean, if she asks you to—”

“I’m your best friend. Don’t fucking insult me like that, bro. The way I see it, you’ve already claimed her. You just better back that shit up.” The line goes dead.

I haven’t claimed her. I can’t claim her.





CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE





TARALYNN





“Mase, your penis is stabbing me in the butt,” I tell him with agitation as I attempt to squirm from his hold around my waist. When the hell did this happen? Ughhh.

“It’s a cock,” he states blankly.

“Not to me it’s not.” It almost comes out as a laugh, but seriously . . . ewww! Well, Mason is hot in a cute sort of way. But he’s my friend, and certainly not the ‘friends with benefits’ type for me. And there’s also the fact that I’m not drunk. So, again, ewww.