The Lie(79)

I keep her hands pinned above her head with one hand, and thrust into her harder, faster, and infinitely deeper. My other hand goes to her clit, working her again. Even though she just came minutes ago, I know she’s still desperate for it. I roll my hips into her, going faster, raw, bordering on violent as the bed starts to shake and she starts to moan, biting her lip hard to keep from crying out.

“You feel so good, so f*cking good.” I’m moaning, the world slipping away so it’s just us in a hedonistic haze. I swivel my hips, hitting the right spot, and soon she’s coming again, her body spasming beneath me, her eyes pinched shut, lush mouth open as she cries out breathlessly.

I let go, driving into her in a relentless rhythm, my balls drawing up, my chest tightening as it fights through a rush of feelings. My hunger, my need for her, not for just her body but her mind and heart and soul has never been as razor sharp and visceral as it is right now. I’m lost inside, coming hard, and the world is flipped upside down in nothing but this dark, devastating pleasure.

Fuck.

Fuck.

I collapse against her, trying to catch my breath and not crush her at the same time.

That was surreal.

That was nothing but f*cking bliss.

That was love.

Fuck.

Fuck.

We didn’t use a condom.

I glance down at her face, cheeks pink, a light sheen of sweat on her brow and above her bruised lips. Her eyes are both languid and anxious at the same time.

“You’re not on the pill yet,” I tell her.

“No,” she says slowly. “I couldn’t see the doctor. But we should be fine. I’ll just take Plan B.”

“Doesn’t that make you sick?”

“Not really. I’ll get it in the morning. I really wouldn’t worry about it,” she says, running her hand over my shoulders and down my arm. “That was…”

“Transcendent?” I fill in.

She laughs lightly. “I was going to say f*cking amazing, but that works too.”

I run my thumb over her lip, grinning at her, and she playfully bites it.

“You know,” I say, “I was thinking, even though there’s barely enough room to f*ck on this bed, maybe we can make sleeping work.”

She grabs my biceps. “Like I was going to let you go back to your own room after you told me you loved me.”

“I do love you,” I tell her.

“I know. And you’re staying.”

So I get under the covers, and even though sleeping with her on a single bed in my brother’s old room is one of the weirdest things ever, I’m with Natasha. And we love each other. And because of that, everything is right.





CHAPTER TWENTY

Natasha




Weeks ago when Brigs said he wanted to “date” me, I never imagined that one of our dates would be in a pedal boat going around the pond at Hyde Park.

Then again, I never imagined how deeply in love with this man I’d be. And I never imagined how impossibly beautiful it would be to hear him say those words I’d first heard years ago. To feel it again.

Natasha, I love you. More than I’ll ever be able to express. Just know it. Believe it. And love me too.

I still melt over that, my heart a hummingbird in my chest. It might explain why I agreed to get into a blue plastic boat and pedal it all over the Serpentine on a chilly autumn day.

“Hey, pick up the slack a bit,” Brigs says to me, his legs pumping furiously while I half-heartedly paddle.

“Oh, come on,” I say, reaching across the divide, trying vainly to smack him across the chest. “A true lady never paddles.”

“That’s true,” he says. “Though you don’t f*ck like a lady.”

I give him a wry look. “Thank god for that.” I look around us. There are maybe five other paddle boats out on the water. I’m grateful I’m wearing a hat and scarf, because today is the first day I’ve really felt winter might be around the corner. The season, not the dog.

“We should head back,” I tell him.

“Why?”

“Because I’m horny,” I put it bluntly.

Brigs raises his brows. “All right then.” He starts peddling faster, heading back to the green grass of the shore.

“Have you talked to your brother?” I ask him as we get closer.

“I really wish you wouldn’t mention him and the word horny so close to each other,” he says dryly. “But no, I haven’t.”

“Do you know when you’ll tell your parents about us?” I ask, feeling so impossibly young when I phrase it like that. “You know, how we met?”

It’s stupid to keep bringing it up, but I was so nervous over the weekend when I met them. I didn’t really have a reason to be though—they were sweeter than can be, and Lachlan and Kayla were absolutely adorable. I still don’t remember meeting Lachlan all those years ago—his face is still kind of a blur from that night—but I’m more than grateful that at least he knows the real story. The last thing I want to do is put pressure on Brigs, but it’s like a weight on my shoulders knowing that we’re not living the absolute truth. I just can’t lie anymore.

“Soon,” he says to me, and I know he means it. “I promise. I just want to tell them in person. Maybe I’ll go up next weekend. I should probably talk to my realtor as well and put my place on the market.”