More Than Lies (More Than #1)(88)

The house is quiet. I didn’t notice anyone in the living room when I passed by. Our roommates aren’t around, so I’m free to touch Tara the way I want. I make my way toward her and stand directly behind her. Placing one hand on her hip and snaking the other around her front, I pull her into my chest, inhaling as I bury my nose in her hair.

I’ll never tire of this smell. She is springtime and honeysuckles.

“Is there a reason I woke up alone in my bed this morning?” I ask, moving my hand to reach under her shirt, being careful where I touch her. I finished the tattoo on the underside of her arm a little over twenty-four hours ago. It’s still fresh, and the wound needs time to heal.

“Yeah, you don’t get up until noon and I had to go grocery shopping.” She laughs as if sleeping that late is unheard of in her world. Oh wait, it is. She’s up at the butt crack of dawn every day.

“I require my beauty sleep, baby.” I kiss her on her cheek before flipping her around to face me. “What are you cooking? It smells great.”

“You say that about everything I cook.” She tries to turn back around, but I don’t let her. I like having her in my arms this way. Every way.

“Nothing special. It’s just a roast.” She points towards the crock-pot. “It’s been cooking all day. I didn’t really do anything.” Dinner is in a crock-pot cooking. Oh, yes! That means she doesn’t have to stand over a stove to make sure nothing burns.

I bend my head down a little and plant a soft kiss onto her lips. I know I’m being risky. Our friends could walk in at any moment and we’d have to come clean about what’s going on between us. But I’m not ready yet. I like it just being her and me. The thought of anyone coming between us and ruining what’s just started has me tightening my grip on her and making me increase the intensity of our kiss.

I’ve becoming obsessed with Tara. I want her all the time. I can’t get enough of her. When I’m at work and she isn’t there—or even when she’s working back in my office—I’m thinking about her. When I leave her bed or she leaves mine, it feels wrong. But I know wanting her this much isn’t right either. There should be a healthy balance, and I don’t have it.

Her parents would shit a brick if they knew she was with me this way. They’ll ruin us if they find out. I can’t let that happen, so I have to keep us as just us until I can figure out how I can keep her longer. I worry that she’s growing tired of me. That she’s starting to see what her parents see. That thought kills me.

Tara deserves what my parents have. Best friends and lovers, connected forever.

She pulls back breaking our connected lips.

“I need to study. I have a test tomorrow.” She once again tries to turn away from me.

“Yeah, well your pussy sitting on my face sounds more appealing than whatever is in that book sitting behind you.” She gasps, telling me I have her just where I want her, and within in a few minutes I will have her pussy riding my face. “Come on, baby. Homework can wait.” She nods. Turning, I take her hand into mine and pull her behind me.

If no one is in the house, I intend on making her scream. I’ve yet to hear my name fall from her lips when I make her come. This keeping quiet bullshit is grating on my last nerve.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE





TARALYNN EVANS





Shit. Shit. Shit.

Shawn’s mouth is rubbing off on me. Well, inside my head anyway. I’m starting to cuss like a sailor inside my own brain. Before too long that shit will be coming out of my mouth as easy as it does his. It’s not that I don’t cuss or have anything against it. There simply are too many other words that can be used instead. Usually, funnier words, at that.

This is the third time I’ve jacked up payroll today. It’s Wednesday and I’m only here because I have to get payroll done now so I’ll be ready to leave for our Georgia trip in two days. I need out of this state. I need away from school and just everything. Stuffing my face with crab legs and riding through dirt, dust, and mud is the exact escape I need.

Two months.

He’s been gone for two whole months today.

Samantha said the pain would get easier to handle over time. That hasn’t occurred yet. When is that going to happen? I want to fast forward to that day. Every day in my life sucks. I feel so alone. I have no one to talk to. Not because they haven’t offered. Samantha’s tried plenty of times. You’d think with her going through something similar it would be easy to open up to her. It’s not. It feels wrong for some reason. Logically, that doesn’t make sense, but it does to me. My roommates have tried; Shawn the hardest. I want to talk to him. I don’t want to talk to him. I’m scared to talk about it.

It takes another hour, but I finally complete my task and get the checks written. Natalie is going to hand them out for me on Friday. She’s been great for the studio. If she knew accounting, she’d be able to do my job, and I’d be able to get back to writing. I haven’t written a single word since before Trent . . .

I’m such a loser. A pathetic loser, who can’t even say what it was that happened to my brother or even to think it. The pain isn’t getting easier. It’s getting harder. At times I feel like I’m suffocating from the inside out. How freakin’ logical is that?