Bittersweet Lies (Bittersweet-Series Book 1) Page 11

  “This here,” he points to the pointy arrows that can be found all over his arm and snake like a red thread toward the wrist, “are spearheads. They represent courage and struggle.”

  “So what does the sun on your back stand for?” I whisper, appreciating the trust he presently places in me.

  He never breaks eye contact and observes my every reaction to his words.

  “The sunrise symbolizes rebirth and the shark teeth stand for protection, guidance, power, and ferocity.” His eyes darken a bit with the last term, becoming somehow more dangerous.

  He wants to provoke me, pull me out of my reserve, as he has been doing the entire time.

  Ha! What am I saying?

  The guy practically consists of provocations and the compulsive urge to subjugate others to his dominance. Therefore, I’m even more surprised he shares such an intimate moment with me.

  He trusts me even though he would never admit it to me.

  We still have this invisible bond between us, that connects us together, just weaker, but it’s there.

  “Wow,” I whisper. “That’s a lot of symbols and meanings.”

  “Yes, wow …”

  “So, Shane doesn’t mind your tattoos?” I cautiously inquire and inwardly brace myself for the next verbal barrage that, however, does not come.

  He shakes his head. “No. Granted, he isn’t all that thrilled, but he accepts my decision. I believe deep down he knows what these drawings on my skin really mean.”

  “You two have always gotten along nicely,” I say with a little smile on my lips.

  “I’m not surprised he shows understanding and supports the things you do.” I’m perfectly aware my voice has taken on a wistful tone.

  Considering he gave me a peek behind his nonchalant facade, I might as well take my protective wall down a notch.

  Still, I’m careful because I don’t want to ruin the moment.

  “I take it your relationship with your mother is still crappy?”

  I don’t know anybody who is as painfully straightforward as Blake.

  “I guess so,” I mumble hesitantly.

  Suddenly, I become aware that my hands are still wrapped in his.

  “You should put more cream on the rest of your body before you get a bad sunburn,” I add with a quick glance at his upper body.

  “Touch me,” he whispers.

  “What?” I inquire confused.

  Again, he determinedly forces my hands onto his broad chest. “You’re supposed to touch me, Brooke.”

  My eyebrows rise by themselves. “Why? You can reach the front yourself.”

  “Just do it and quit overthinking it,” he demands roughly.

  I swallow hard and nervously pull my lower lip between my teeth. “All right.”

  After I drip some lotion on his upper body, I let my hands glide over his smooth chest and down his washboard abs.

  He stiffens his muscles as my fingertips brush against the waist of his shorts.

  I’m aware I just put lotion on him, but the act is so hot that I’m afraid I might burn myself on his skin.

  And that his unexpected move put me on his lap so I feel certain body parts more intensely, also doesn’t make the situation any better.

  My gaze remains on his beautiful face.

  His lips part slightly and he stares at me from under half-opened eyelids. Sexy and demanding.

  With my hips, I slide a little further down so as to not directly sit on his crotch and I feel a twitch on his part.

  “I, uh …”

  “Continue,” he mumbles, ignoring my babbling.

  Against my will, my pulse quickens as I resume my movements and stroke his hot skin again, this time slower, more intense, more deliberate.

  The contact resonates deep in my belly, triggering a pleasurable throbbing between my legs, making me gasp quietly, which is extremely uncomfortable. It seems Blake did not hear it, thank God.

  Okay, if I’m honest, I cannot say with certainty because, at the moment, I can’t look him in the face. Not after my embarrassing reaction to his body.

  Instead, my fingertips dance over his tattoos as I memorize their contours before stroking his well-formed chest and six-pack again.

  My eyes follow my hand movements and I see how my fingers brush for umpteenth against the waistband of his shorts and …

  Fuck!

  Startled, I stop short and frantically try to comprehend what my eyes just saw but my mind denies.

  He is hard.

  The obvious bulge underneath the fabric leaves no doubt that he’s really turned on and it’s not just my imagination.

  When I think about how my touch has aroused him, a strange feeling overcomes me.

  The throbbing between my legs grows more intense and I want to squeeze them together to get the unbearable tugging somehow under control.

  “Hey,” he whispers, instantly ripping me from my thoughts, transporting me back to the here and now.

  “Huh?” I grumble, raising my head and immediately turn beet red, which, fortunately, he cannot blame on his … co… oh, you know perfectly well what I mean.

  One, I made the wise decision to wear sunglasses and, second, I can blame the redness on the sun.

  Now he opens his eyes and looks at me curiously and totally innocently. “Why did you stop?

  He has to ask?

  Once the initial shock recedes, I find my voice again.

  “Your erection caused me to lose focus,” I reply purposefully relaxed. Like they say, attack is the best defense.

  “Besides, I am finished.”

  “If you want,” he whispers and his lips turn into a smile, “you can continue down there if you like.”

  His midnight-blue eyes turn slightly darker and gleam treacherously as he unexpectedly grabs my wrists and presses my hands against his crotch.

  “Cut!” I yell, completely taken aback, trying to pull my hands away, but he won’t allow it.

  Under my fingers, I feel how hard he really is.

  Feel the hot pulsing through the fabric of his shorts, as well as the uncontrollable twitching whenever I move slightly.

  “Do it,” he mumbles and effortlessly raises his hips.

  “What?” I ask, perplexed.

  “Touch me.”

  “What do you think I’ve been doing the entire time?”

  “Here.” He pushes my hands, which he still has a hold of, against his throbbing erection.

  My eyes widen and my mouth drops.

  I’m speechless.

  “I … I …,” I stutter, still overwhelmed. “I cannot do that,” I manage to say in a clear voice once I have taken a deep breath.

  Besides, we’ve already gone too far. I don’t even want to think about all the boundaries we just have crossed in the last ten minutes.

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s not proper,” I respond sternly. “This here, you’re not supposed to do with me but someone you really like.”

  He releases my wrists so abruptly that I have to brace myself on his thighs to keep from losing my balance.

  “Fuck,” he growls frustrated, followed by running a hand through his dark hair. “Yes, you’re right.”

  “Good,” I comment satisfied and get up in one flowing movement.

  By now, my legs feel like Jell-O and the unbearable throbbing between my legs is driving me crazy, but I don’t show any of it.

  I carelessly throw my sunglasses on the lounge chair and nimbly stroll to the pool.

  “I don’t know about you, but I really need to cool off,” I call to him over my shoulder.

  When I realize how wrong it must sound to him, I quickly add something.

  “This heat is killing me.”

  He watches me silently, pensively, patiently. His penetrating gaze burns my skin.

  Before I can say anything inappropriate, I deliberately jump into the cold water and try to banish all that just happened from my thoughts.

  I merely want to g
et away and forget.

  Away from Blake. Away from his vicinity. And especially away from his body.

  “And, how was your first meeting after three endless years?” Carter inquires, grinning at me with an overly friendly smile.

  As if I’d fall for his crap.

  “Yeah, how did it go?” Liam also jumps in and grins smugly, which I choose to ignore.

  “Intense,” I reply curtly, and thoughtfully regard Kendra’s ass, which is wrapped in tight white hot pants.

  “Intense?” he asks, surprised.

  “Yes.”

  “That’s it? What else? What did you guys do? What did you talk about?

  “Since when are you so damn nosy?” I growl.

  He lightly jabs his elbow into my side.

  “What did you expect? That I’d simply give the subject a wide berth and continue to sweep it under the carpet?”

  I massage the bridge of my nose and annoyed, sigh. “Yes. Why not?”

  “Dude,” he protests and I briefly glance at him.

  “You really have to work on how you deal with problems,” he replies, shaking his head and reaches into his jeans pocket.

  Before he can light up the joint, I deftly relieve his fingers of it in, stick it between my lips, and look at him challengingly.

  “Light me up.” It was neither a question nor request, but a demand, which Carter knows.

  Wordlessly, he immediately pulls out his lighter and holds the flame under the end of the joint.

  “At times, you can be a real asshole,” he notes, pissed off.

  I take a long drag and inhale the smoke deeply into my lungs, then slowly exhale with pleasure.

  “Well, why do you always butt in to my life?” I ask, ignoring his annoyed expression.

  “I heard that’s something normal friends do, but then what’s normal about us?”

  I shrug indifferently. “I wouldn’t know.”

  “Fuck, Blake!” Kendra suddenly yells and angrily approaches me.

  “How many times must I tell you not to smoke in here?” she snaps, crossing her arms.

  Her small breasts frantically rise and settle as she tries to make me feel guilty.

  Should I tell her she’d spend her time wiser elsewhere?

  “You know perfectly well my parents will kill me if they smell smoke!”

  Oh, is that so?

  Sure, they’ll kill you for the odor, not the unsanctioned party you threw.

  “And why do you think this would even interest me?” I want to know and take another drag of Carter’s joint, exhaling the smoke directly in her face.

  Her gray eyes widen as she becomes aware that I don’t give a shit about her announcement and the consequences.

  “You cannot possibly mean that,” she gasps, outraged.

  Before she can even react, I quickly grab one of her wrists and pull her down to me.

  “Baby,” I murmur. “How long have we known each other? You should know better.”

  “When he’s right he’s right,” Liam pipes in and smirks. He is visibly enjoying the show.

  “Okay,” she hisses quietly, “just this one last time. But that’s it, no more. I’m running out of excuses.”

  Yeah, sure, I think wryly. And next time you’ll tell me the same crap again.

  “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” I respond with a smile and abruptly let her go, making her lose her balance.

  She gives me a look that teeters between pissed off and longing as if she can’t decide which way to go.

  It’s no secret that Kendra – like most of the broads in college – is into me. And that I use her crush to my advantage, she should know.

  And yet she blindly follows me, puts up with whatever I do, and would open her legs for me any time I ask.

  She’s replaceable and she knows it. Perhaps that’s the reason she tries to outdo herself and overlooks my behavior.

  There are plenty of women running around that would willingly give their last panties to spend time with me.

  Am I arrogant? An selfish asshole?

  Fuck, yeah!

  But let’s be honest: I can afford to be.

  Why change something when it doesn’t matter to the broads?

  They use me and vice versa. Everyone gets what they want and that philosophy has worked for me so far.

  Kendra throws her long blonde hair over her shoulder and purses her lips.

  “Should I order us something to eat?” As she asks, her gaze is only on me the entire time.

  “Guys?” I look at the round and receive unanimous nods.

  “You heard them,” I say, which naturally, is meant figuratively.

  “Piz–” but I interrupt her.

  “Just order whatever,” I order with a dismissive ges-ture. “You can handle it, right?”

  She turns red, which makes her look rather cute.

  Maybe it’s time to get her into the horizontal position, I think, crushing out the joint in the ashtray on my side table.

  Here, the little one wants to prohibit me from smoking, but then she has an ashtray within reach.

  She deliberately baits me in order to irritate me and provoke a reaction from me. Her rebellious behavior is nothing more than an invitation to get between her thighs and take my frustration out on her.

  Who is she trying to kid?

  As soon as Kendra walks away ass swaying hastily out of the room, Alexa comes up to me and hops on my lap with a cheeky smile.

  “I heard that at that moment you are in a rather bad mood,” she whispers, teasingly running her index finger over my chest.

  “You know what could help in such an instance?”

  “Thanks, but last Friday’s fuck did nothing for me. Besides, I’m not in the mood right now,” I answer indifferently.

  Any other woman would have been offended or at least given me the evil eye.

  Alexa is different. For her, the fun begins where many regard it as a reason to start bickering.

  “You know,” she purrs, sliding her hands under my shirt, “I can take your mind off things?”

  Shit. She sure can, I know that all too well.

  Her preferences are very … special, yes, almost to the extreme.

  And yes, I love rough sex, to always be in control of the situation, making the woman under me scream her head off, but eventually, I found she took her penchant for self-harm too far.

  Alexa is addicted to pain. Preferably during sex and done by a man.

  I simply overlooked her sick masochistic urges because sex with her gave me that certain kick, something I searched for in vain with other women.

  I’ve never hurt her. Instead, we did have the wildest sex in the most unusual places. It was enough for her, but not for me.

  At some point, the allure disappeared and disillusionment set in.

  I realized I had it all wrong. Whatever she had to offer me was not what I really wanted, needed. So, I ended the affair.

  But Alexa wouldn’t accept it, called me whenever she felt the need to play games, looking for that special kick.

  She was, is addicted.

  Eventually she gave up. No more text messages or phone calls. It was as if it never happened. Until today.

  “You know,” I say in a dangerously low voice, grabbing her hands that absentmindedly stroke my chest and force them back into her lap, “that time is over. Now, get off me,” I growl.

  Her eyes narrow, her lips part slightly, and her breath-ing increases.

  She is excited.

  She likes the way I treat her. My rejection of her makes her want me even more.

  She uses her tip of the tongue to lick her upper lip. “Come on, Blake. What do you have to lose?”

  Carter and Liam are sitting next to me, both don’t utter a word, but their looks say it all.

  What’s the matter with you?

  What’s wrong? No idea.

  All I know is that Alexa no longer turns me on.

  When I look at her I feel ab
solutely nothing. And I really mean NOTHING. My dick won’t as much as twitch even though the woman on my lap is more than hot.

  Her fiery red hair is cut into a trendy bob, which frames her thin face.

  Her green eyes are slightly slanted, reminding me of cat’s eyes.

  She has a straight nose, high cheekbones, and ordinary lips that she uses skillfully.

  Her small breasts in the tight black corset push perkily into the air and the skintight denim shorts emphasize her ass.

  She is as pale as only a vampire could ever be, which is in stark contrast to her hair.

  Alexa is not a classic beauty, but she has something about her that attracts men and I don’t mean just her big mouth.

  “Time,” is my terse answer. And with that word, I swing her effortlessly off my lap, which makes her gasp in surprise.

  “Go find someone who wants to play with you.”

  My useless brother and friend stare at me stunned, which, at the moment, I don’t give a shit about.

  Alexa just gives me an astonished look before she silently moves on, searching for a new victim.

  At least for right now.

  Liam whistles appreciatively through his teeth. “I guess the thing with Brooke is more serious than I thought.”

  “Why does everyone assume my behavior has some-thing to do with her?” I ask bitterly, pulling the pack of cigarettes from my pocket and lighting one.

  “Hello? You just told one of the hottest and most willing chicks on campus to take a hike.”

  “Alexa is sick,” I’m avoiding the subject and with a bored expression, look around the spacious room.

  “Nothing has ever stopped you in the past from fucking her,” Carter interjects.

  Annoyed, I run a hand through my hair.

  “What would you like to hear?

  That I turned her down because I saw Brooke again and you’re right about me having feelings for her?” I look at both.

  “Yeah, right. You’ll be sitting here for quite a while. Now drop the subject and leave me alone.”

  “The fact that you’re denying it so adamantly that she has something to do with your bad mood and the sudden change in behaviour only proves we’re onto something,” Liam concludes and grins at me.

  I really would like to wipe that stupid grin from his perfect face that so closely resembles mine.

  My gaze turns indifferent. “Think what you will.”