Lizzie Blake's Best Mistake (A Brush with Love, #2)(82)

She stood up, reaching out her hand to help him to his feet, and laid herself on the bed, pressing against the wall to accommodate him on the narrow mattress.

Rake pulled her tight against his chest, tucking her head under his chin and running his large hands over her skin, like he was stitching together all the invisible cuts and nicks that still hurt her. Under his touch, she surrendered to the feelings that had been piercing her gut and tightening her throat. Rake let out a soft hum of pleasure as he cherished her body, giving every inch of her skin loving affection.

Lizzie splayed her palm across his chest, feeling the gentle rhythm of his breaths, the ticking of his pulse. She wanted to sink her fingers into it and grab his heart. Own it. Or take her own out and shove it next to his.

Rake pulled back after a moment, brushing her hair off her face so he could look into her eyes. Lizzie felt exposed under that look, and she fought every instinct to pull away, to squirm into action. She saw the moment Rake registered her urge to retreat into herself, like he could see through her skull into her wild brain, and it made him smile.

“I love your freckles,” he said, ducking his head to kiss a dense cluster above her breast, giving her words and touch and sensations to focus on.

She let out a breathy laugh, twisting her fingers into his hair. He let out a grunt of approval at her soft tug.

“They’re like a work of art,” he said roughly into her skin. “You’re a work of art. You’re unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”

Lizzie pulled him closer, emotion making her throat thick and painful. He took a deep breath, inhaling against her skin, his exhale filling her with a soft, golden shimmer of adoration.

“And your eyes? They kill me. My heart hasn’t beat in a steady rhythm since you started looking at me with those honey-colored eyes. I swear they change color with your mood. Browner when you’re mad. Glints of yellow when you’re excited. Small hints of green when you’re laughing.”

Lizzie’s lips parted. She wanted to say something. Anything. She wanted to pour words into him and fill him like they were filling her. But she couldn’t remember how to speak.

“Don’t get me started on your hair,” he continued, dragging his fingers through the strands. He caught a handful of the ends, and brought them up to his nose, inhaling deeply. “I should have known you’d wreck me with hair like this. It’s become my favorite color. If I were a poet, I’d fill volumes about your hair. I’d find a smarter way to describe it than long and thick and orangey-red.”

Lizzie laughed, moving to rub her nose against his. He planted soft kisses across her cheeks.

She let out a shaky breath, squeezing her eyes shut for just a moment. Lizzie was flooded by endless feelings. They were sharp and soft and delicate and fierce, and they all threatened to kill her or give her life. But she didn’t resist. She decided she would drown in all those feelings if it meant she could feel them with Rake. They looked at each other for a long time, eyes skimming and tracing features, memorizing them. There were certain words that were still unsaid—syllables still too scary to utter.

A soft knock on the door disrupted their private oasis. Lizzie’s eyes flicked to it across the room as Ryan’s voice traveled through the door.

“Lizzie? We are about to take off. I’d really like to talk to you.”

Lizzie sighed, turning her eyes back to Rake.

“You should talk to him,” he whispered, placing a kiss on her forehead. “We’ll come back to this. But you should hear him out.”

Lizzie swallowed and nodded. She wasn’t sure she’d ever actually be able to use words again.

“Give her one minute,” Rake called, breathing in Lizzie’s skin one last time before sitting up and pulling her with him.

He reached down, grabbing her dress, then turned to her, dressing her gently. He grabbed his own clothes, standing to shove his legs into his pants and quickly buttoning up his shirt, before striding across the room and opening the door, Lizzie following a few paces behind.

Ryan and Mary stood in the doorway, both with drawn and serious expressions on their faces.

“Ryan has something he wants to ask you,” Mary said at last, giving Ryan a little nudge.

Ryan cleared his throat. “Lizzie, I know … I … Do you two want to stay with us tonight? I’m guessing you wouldn’t want to stay here, but it’s late and we’d hate for you to have to drive back to Philly. We don’t live far, and we have a guest bedroom in our basement.”

Mary nodded, giving Lizzie a warm smile.

Lizzie glanced at Rake, and his look told her he’d go along with whatever she wanted.

“Okay,” Lizzie said, staring into Ryan’s eager and anxious eyes. She really did love him, and she still had a reckless shard of hope that they could come to know each other better.

Ryan nodded, looking like he was going to leave it at that. Mary nudged him again. Ryan cleared his throat.

“And, I just want to say. I’m sorry Mom and Dad are so shitty. And I’m sorry I’ve been … complicit in it.”

It was Lizzie’s turn to nod, emotions building in a steady pressure between her eyes and nose. She couldn’t think of what to say.

So, instead, she threw her arms around him, hugging her big brother with all the strength she could muster. And he hugged her back.

After a moment, Lizzie pulled away, fixing Ryan and Mary with a grin.