More Than Lies (More Than #1)(99)
“No, but it beats taking one in the morning, so yeah.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
TARALYNN
My eyes peek open. Light filters in through the white shimmering curtains. From the bright sun, I can tell I’ve slept later than usual. When I glance up, looking at the small digital clock on the bedside table, I see it’s a quarter till eight in the morning. Not too bad considering all we did last night.
My mind recounts, remembering it all, especially the recording Shawn took on his phone. Oh my God, I can’t believe I let him do that. Why do I not feel ashamed? Shouldn’t I? Maybe even just a little bit? I don’t, though; not after watching it. It was hot, and the way it made me feel about myself . . . I can’t even explain. I don’t know what to say. Do I thank him? Shouldn’t I have always seen myself that way?
The way I easily let how other people saw me affect how I viewed myself is a little jacked up, now that I think about it. On the bright side, those feelings are gone. Vanished. I no longer care what my mother or Preston thinks, or anyone else for that matter. I only care about what I think. Shawn did that. He opened my eyes. So now, instead of focusing on the imperfections—and I do have them, we all have them—I see the positive first.
Throwing the covers off my naked body, I sit up and swing my legs off the bed. Walking around the foot of the bed, I start to scan the floor for my panties. My eyes widen at the mess. Would it have been so hard to toss clothes in one direction? Our clothes are everywhere and screaming at me to pick them up.
Seeing my panties near the end of the bed on Shawn’s side, I bend and scoop them up fast, pulling them up my legs as I stand again. I would rather have put on a clean pair, but my bags are in another room.
“I think I might rather have that sexy body between my thighs today than my four-wheeler.”
I look up to a set of brown eyes glued to my chest.
“My thighs are a bit lower.” His eyes lock on mine as his smile widens at my remark. “You’re cheery this morning for someone that is not a morning person.”
“You rode my dick so hard last night that I slept like a baby, and now I’m well rested.”
“Me?” I question. “I’m pretty sure I’m the one that was getting pounded. Between our amateur porno hour and when you decided to do me in the shower . . . I was the one that was getting ridden hard.”
“Get back in bed, baby, and I’ll do it again.” His lips turn up even more.
“This shop,” I grab my panty-covered crotch, “is closed for the day. I’m sore.” Unbelievable. The mother effer’s eyes sparkle.
“So you’ll be feeling me all day, then.” I will not reply to that. I turn my back to him and continue searching for my clothes.
“The trails open in ten minutes. Let’s get dressed, wake the others, and get going.”
I’m so ready to get onto my machine and drive for a few hours. I’m hoping I can clear my head enough so I’ll be able to make some headway with my current work in progress. I haven’t written in a while. My mind is such a jumbled mess. I need silence and freedom inside my brain.
“All right.” I hear the tussling of covers. Seconds later hands are wrapping around my waist and my bare back connects with the hard plains of Shawn’s chest and abdomen. My eyes close for a brief moment to savor the feel.
I can feel his jaw open and close a few times like he wants to speak, but then doesn’t. After a beat, he kisses me on the cheek and lets me go. I turn around, but he’s done the same and is reaching for his duffle bag. I finish dressing and exit the room to change into clean undies and get my riding gear on.
The house is quiet when I make my way through. Everyone must have gone home last night.
As I’m passing through the living room, a mop of dark hair attached to man’s body catches my attention. It’s Shane, and he’s lying face down on the couch. I can’t see his face, but I know this because of the ink work all over his back and side. Most people don’t know Shane has this many tattoos. It’s rare that you see him shirtless. His back and shoulders are covered in ink with varied designs. There is an angel—the biggest and most beautiful of all his tattoos—that hovers below his neckline between his shoulder blades, with lyrics that surround her in script writing. They’re hard to read, mainly because the angel is positioned as if she is covering some of the words.
The one that always catches my attention first is the tattoo of the girl’s name written in a slanted design across his ribs and wrapping around his side. It spells Whitney in big letters. I never remember her until I see his tattoos, then my heart breaks all over again for Shane.
I continue on through the room, not wanting to wake him up yet. He sent us a group text late yesterday telling us it he and Kylie wouldn’t arrive until early this morning. A pediatric case he was involved in ran into complications, so he wasn’t able to leave the hospital when he originally thought he would. Shane is following in his dad Bill’s footsteps, and plans to do a fellowship in Cardiology when he finishes up his residency. The only difference is Shane wants to work with children and become a pediatrician.
When I reach the bedroom that I dropped my stuff in last night, I open the door softly and walk in. Mason is sprawled out on his stomach on one of the top bunks. Matt is buried under the covers, so the only thing you can see from the top bunk above my bed is a lump forming a body.