More Than Lies (More Than #1)(83)

I open the door and hop out of the truck, noticing the car in my driveway that I’ve never seen before. After trudging up the steps, I open and walk through the front door.

The house is quiet, but I know someone other than my roommates must be here. Soft voices filter down the foyer. They’re coming from the kitchen. I hear a female voice. It’s familiar, but not Tara’s. I head in that direction.

I enter to find, Matt leaning against the countertop in front of the sink, Mason sitting on a bar stool with his arm stretched out on the granite island, and the source of the female voice, Samantha, I’m certain, is sitting on top of the island counter. The three of them are engrossed in conversation.

“Where’s Tara?” My question causes them to turn their heads my way. “Samantha, right?” I nod in her direction.

“That’s it, but you can call me Sam if you like. Most people do. Taralynn is in her room. I was up there about fifteen minutes ago.”

“Is she doing okay?” I know it’s a dumb question, but it’s the one that’s been on my mind all day.

“As good as can be expected right now.” She has a point. She would know, too. Samantha, or Sam as she wants to be called, lost her dad a year ago.

“How’s the tat healing?”

“Great. You made my mom cry, though.” She smiles.

“We were talking about what pizza to order since there’s no food in the house.” Mason slides off the stool and walks to the fridge. When he opens the door, all I see is beer. He grabs two and returns to his bar stool, handing one to Sam and flashing her one of his smooth smiles. She’s definitely his type. If blondes are my type, then redheads are his.

“Okay. I need to talk to Tara. Catch you guys a little later.” I don’t wait for any response, but I do notice the smile Sam tries to hide before I turn, walking back down the hall. Rounding the stairs at the front of the house, I jog up until I reach the landing.

I knock on Tara’s bedroom door, but there’s no response from the other side. I knock again; Still quiet. I turn the knob and walk into an empty room. Everything is immaculate except the ruffled covers on the bed. The sound of running water draws my attention toward the door leading into the bathroom and closet. She must be taking a shower.

I’ll wait.

Walking over to the bed, I straighten the covers before sitting down on the edge of the side that faces the dresser. Looking into the mirror, I determine I look like shit. I didn’t get any sleep last night, I haven’t eaten today, and being cooped up in a truck for hours hasn’t helped. I’m fucking tired.

I lean back, allowing my body to rest on the mattress while my feet remain on the floor. I throw my arm over my eyes to shut out the overhead light from the ceiling fan above me.

I’m not lying there long—maybe a minute or two—when I hear the clicking sound of the bathroom door opening. I breathe out a long puff of air. I’m clueless as to how this is about to play out. And fuck me if I’m not a little bit scared; maybe even more than just a little.

“Shawn.” She sounds shocked. Perhaps she didn’t expect me to come see her when I got home. I should have been home long before now. We need to finish our conversation from this morning. My dad was so pissed at me. Probably still is. Who knows? I didn’t stick around for a lecture. I walked out within five minutes after Tara left.

A shadow crosses over my face telling me Tara is standing at her dresser so I pull my arm away to peer up. Her back is to me, but she can still see me through the mirror. A black towel is wrapped around her body, and her wet hair dangles across her shoulders.

“When did you get back?” I hear her words, but forming a response isn’t working. Raising my torso, I sit up on the bed to take in the rest of her. My eyes fall to her bare legs. Shit.

“We need to talk.”

Ignoring my statement, she asks, “How did things go with your dad?” She squats to the floor, pulling open one of the bottom drawers where she pulls out a set of pajamas.

“Not about that.” She stands and places them on top of the dresser. “We need to discuss what we were trying to talk about before they interrupted us.” She closes her eyes and lets out a puff of air before opening them back up to look at me again through the mirror.

“Let it go, please,” she pleads.

“That’s not going to happen, darlin’.”

Tara pulls open another drawer, pulling out a pair of panties. When she pushes the drawer closed, she bends at the waist to step into the navy blue material. With one hand I grab the opening of the towel and with the other I open her palm causing her to drop the underwear to the floor. My eyes glide up her body until they meet hers. Pulling lightly on the towel, Tara takes a step closer toward me until she is standing between my legs.

“Can’t we forget it happened?”

Tugging on the soft towel untucks it from the top, allowing it to fall down her body. I release it from my hand as it joins her panties on the floor. Tara stands before me naked, beautiful; exotic and tropical with her tanned skin, wet hair, and dark eyes. Her breasts are large. I know she wears a DD cup; hell, I’ve lived with her for years. They are perfect. She’s perfection.

“What part would that be?” My voice is a cross between a whisper and a growl, full of desire. My hands glide up both sides of her smooth thighs until I settle at her waist. “The part where I fucked you with my fingers five nights ago? When I tasted every inch of you with my tongue? Or when I made love to you in my bed? Two things, I might add, that I’ve only done with you.”