More Than Lies (More Than #1)(93)

Walking through the front door, I head straight to the bedrooms in the back to drop my stuff off. Since Shawn’s parents aren’t here, he’ll most likely take the Master Bedroom. He usually does unless Shane beats him to it. Since Preston is here, that will free up a bunk for him to sleep in.

Walking in, the rooms are already junked up. I see Mase and Matt already have their crap everywhere. Shawn’s stuff isn’t in here, which confirms my guess that he took his parents’ bedroom. I toss my bag and purse on my bed then gesture to the other bottom bunk behind me. “You can take that one.” Turning around, I look at Preston who’s eyeing the twin size bed. He doesn’t look thrilled. Oh, freakin’, well. Maybe he shouldn’t have invited himself to come. I fake a smile and walk out. Making my way down the hall, I continue through the living room until I reach the kitchen. It is mid-afternoon and I could use a beer, so I go straight toward the refrigerator and take out a Corona. After searching for and finding some sliced limes, I pop the cap off using a bottle opener and push a slice inside the bottle. Tipping it back, I take a swallow as my eyes close to savor the crisp taste.

“About time you . . .” Mason stops mid-sentence. I reluctantly reopen my eyes to look at Mason. He’s peering over my shoulder. When I glance in that direction I see Preston coming toward us. I look at my beer then back at him remembering he’s a wine guy.

“We probably should have stopped by a liquor store. Sorry.” I hold up my beer. “I didn’t really think about that. My roommate’s mom might have some wine in a cabinet over there.” I point toward the cabinet above the stove that houses most of the liquor Bill keeps. I guess if Pam had wine it’d be there.

“I’ll tell you what, I’m going to live a little this weekend and have what you’re having.”

“Okay, they’re in the fridge.” I turn toward Mason. He grabs me by the elbow and pulls me out of earshot.

“What the fuck is he doing here? Shawn is going to flip the fuck out, Taralynn. What the hell were you thinking?” He swipes my beer from my hand and takes a swallow. “Jeez.” Mason shakes his head from side to side then takes another sip.

“Shawn’s not going to flip out.” He’s totally going to flip his lid.

“Why is he here?” Mason’s eyes glance in Preston’s direction before landing back on mine. “You didn’t like the guy when you went out with him last year. Are you trying to make Shawn jealous?”

“I’m not trying to do anything to Shawn. He’s here just because.” Because I don’t have the guts to stand up to my mother or to tell her where she can shove it, that’s the real reason why.

Don’t lie to yourself, Taralynn. You know you’re hoping Shawn gets jealous.

Well, yeah, of course I am, but the likelihood of that is slim.

“When do we eat?” I’m hungry and I’m tired of this conversation.

“He was dropping the legs when I walked inside to get a beer.”

“Can I have my beer back, now?” He gives me a look before turning around and walking off. I huff and get another beer.

“Legs?” Preston questions.

“Crab legs.” I’ve been looking forward to them for weeks. The sound of the back door opening followed by Shawn’s deep voice.

“Food is on the table.” I look in his direction. He’s staring back at me, and then his eyes slide toward Preston. Shawn’s expression changes as anger flashes in front of me when his eyes land back on mine. He’s pissed. Walking fully inside, he kicks the door closed with his shoe. He stalks forward. “A word.” Taking my wrist into his hand he pulls me and I have no choice but to follow. It’s either that or land on my face.

Shawn drags me into the bathroom before I can jerk my hand free of his. I doubt I would have managed getting loose from his death grip. The last time I ended up alone with him in a bathroom was the start of how I got into this mess with him in the first place. Now that I’ve had him, I don’t need to be alone with him. I know what he’s packing, and I know just how it feels when he uses that beautiful man-junk in his pants.

“Couldn’t you have said whatever it is you need to say outside the bathroom?” I cross my arms, cock my head to the side, and pin him with a stare that says I’m annoyed. Not because I am. No, it’s so I don’t reach out and touch him. My hands need to stay to myself. Why does he have to be so freakin’ good looking?

He takes a step in my direction, making him only inches away from my body. His hand slides smoothly over the material of my yoga pants where the band is seated at my hip until he reaches skin.

Son of a freakin’ biscuit. Apparently he has no qualms about touching me. My eyes widen when in reality they want to close and savor his warm touch. I push him away. If I don’t, I’ll cave.

“Don’t.” That one word is all I can muster. I’m weak, but I have to pretend I’m not. It’s his fault I’m this way. He provokes feelings inside me that I wish weren’t there. Life would be much easier if only . . . Why, oh why did I have to fall in love with the unattainable? Does God hate me? My own mother does, so maybe he does too.

“I haven’t touched you in two days. I want to touch you, Tara.” Oh, too effin’, bad. We don’t always get what we want. I never do so why should I give him what he wants only when other people aren’t around?