Bittersweet Lies (Bittersweet-Series Book 1) Page 3

  “Sorry, won’t happen again,” I mumble a bit sheepishly, feeling my face grow hot.

  “I like the way you looked at me,” he grumbles and leans down to me.

  A pleasant aroma – a mixture of expensive aftershave, freshly laundered clothes, and an inherent odor – reaches my nostrils. He smells somewhat … masculine.

  Too close. He’s much too close.

  “You find me hot,” he whispers oh-so-beguilingly in my ear. His breath tickles my skin, giving me goose bumps.

  “You’ve changed,” I state the obvious.

  “Yeah?” he says amused.

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me, Brooke,” he continues, “… am I making you nervous?”

  I swallow. “What makes you say that?”

  “Do you always answer questions with another question?”

  “I should go find Shane,” I say weakly, wanting to go past him to the stairs.

  Even though I don’t like to admit it, his self-confidence confuses me and makes me increasingly restless.

  However, before I can make a clean getaway, he leans on the cabinet behind me with both hands and traps me with his entire body.

  “You still haven’t answered my question,” he states soberly.

  “Well, what do you want to hear?” I ask provocatively, looking at him defiantly.

  “That I find you hot? That I’m into you? That I want you to fuck me right here and now? Which is it?” The last part almost sounds like a growl.

  His self-assured manner makes me nervous and is responsible for my temporary mental lapses.

  “It’s not about what I want to hear, it’s about finding out what’s going on in your pretty little head,” he calmly replies, gently brushing a few unruly strands of hair out of my face.

  This tender gesture is enough to send my pulse racing.

  I don’t know what I expected, but definitely not this.

  “Brooke? You okay?” Shane calls out and I breathe a sigh of relief.

  “I have to go,” I say, looking past him to the stairs.

  A couple of infinitely long seconds elapse before I suddenly feel his hot breath on my face.

  In the next moment, he gently leans his clean-shaven cheek against mine and whispers in my ear,

  “You cannot run away from me forever, Brooke.” And with that, he disengages and walks away.

  What the hell?

  What was that?

  The Liam I know would have never come across so … so self-assured and damn hot.

  The former cute brother has become a real man who seems to have developed a liking for messing with my emotions.

  Why does his closeness make me so incredibly nervous?

  “How about I show you to your room?” Shane asks when I join him.

  Forget about it, him. You are here because you have a chance to start a new life and finally, make your dream become reality.

  I smile at him gratefully. “I’d like that.”

  “You okay? You seem a bit absentminded.”

  “I’m probably exhausted from the long ride,” I mumble apologetically.

  It’s not like I can tell him the real reason.

  Shane looks at me with a slightly furrowed forehead and gently touches my shoulder. “You sure everything’s okay?”

  Uncertain how to answer, and yes, out of fear of spilling the beans, seeing at his intense gaze, I merely nod.

  Every time I look into his eyes, I sense he can see right through me.

  “You’re part of the family, Brooke, and you know that you can talk to me about anything, right?”

  I nod again.

  “Good,” he says satisfied. “Your room is on the second floor. Come, I’ll show you the way.”

  The room looks quite different than I imagined.

  I expected an ordinary desk, bed, and wardrobe, spread out over a few square yards, not such a lovingly furnished place.

  The sunlight shining through the sizeable windows makes the room bright and friendly.

  The walls are painted a simple white – seemingly boring, but isn’t! – and the bed to my right is enormous and appears absolutely cozy with its many pillows.

  The desk – located directly under a row of windows – is also huge and made of fine dark wood.

  A cream-colored armoire, which can easily accommodate all my clothes, is next to the bed, and as if that isn’t enough, the dream of any woman is located next to it. My. Own. Walk-in closet.

  This here is so much more than I imagined.

  “You guys are crazy …” I breathe, a bit overwhelmed and grateful, fall around his neck.

  “I was hoping you’d like it,” he replies relieved and pulls me into a warm embrace.

  “With us, you shall not want for anything, Brooke.”

  “I’m sure I won’t,” I mumble and mean every word.

  Shane is the father I never had. Just a few years after I was born, my parents’ marriage seemed to disintegrate and, a short time later, my father left us from one day to the next. To this day, I have not been able to figure out the real reason, which is probably because the subject is absolute taboo for my mother.

  Lucie and Shane are close friends of my parents. Ever since I can remember, those two have been a part of my life. That’s why Lucie’s death also hit me hard.

  We saw each other almost every day before they moved to California. Back then, Liam, Blake, and I were simply inseparable and Lucie and Shane treated me like their own daughter from the beginning.

  When I was with them, it always felt like coming home. It was a feeling I had not had since my parents separated.

  “You best lie down and get some rest. You can always unpack your bags later this evening,” he suggests. “I’ll be in the garden if you need anything.”

  “Yes, you’re probably right.”

  “See you later,” he says and turns to walk away.

  “Shane?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you,” I whisper. “For everything.”

  His lips turn into a smile. “My pleasure,” he whispers too and closes the door.

  When I wake up, it’s already dark outside.

  I must have drifted off when I checked to see if the pillows were as soft as they look.

  I guess I have my answer, don’t I?

  Blearily-eyed, I glance at my cell phone.

  9:00 PM. Well, I guess I successfully missed dinner.

  Dammit. I didn’t plan to sleep the remainder of the day away. I meant to take my time unpacking my stuff, help Shane a bit in the garden, and … Crap! My mother!

  When I said goodbye, I promised to call once we arrived, which is now about a good five hours ago …

  Actually, I intended to call her. Really. Now I’m sure I’ll hear a lecture, which I can do without, so I send her a text message instead.

  God, I already know I’ll regret my decision tomorrow, but at the moment, I don’t care.

  The one thing I really need right now is a hot shower and something to eat. It’s any way a mystery to me how I survived this long without food.

  Normally, every three hours my stomach turns cranky and demands instant gratification.

  A person is wise to stay out my way when I’m hungry unless, of course, they urgently want to die. A bad-tempered cat is harmless compared to me.

  I dig in one of my suitcases for a change of clothes, my toiletry bag, and shower stuff. After pulling my top over my head in one single fluid motion, I peel off the tight jeans and slip out of my underwear. Shane thoughtfully provided towels for me and since I have no desire to schlepp my clothes back to my room after my shower, I leave them right here.

  I’m sure Shane is in the living room or on the patio, and Liam and Blake must be out partying, after all, today is Friday. Therefore, the likelihood of encountering some-one is pretty much zero.

  And who cares if I do. In case of an emergency, the towel will cover the important areas, no need to worry.

  I leave the room in a hurr
y and rush around the corner. The bathroom is at the end of the corridor and, since I would hate to starve, I hasten my steps.

  In my mind, I’m already attacking my food – who says I’m not hungry, huh? – when suddenly I bump into something hard and lose my balance.

  Shit. I’m going to fall and, knowing my luck, probably break some important body part, shoots frantically through my mind.

  However, instead of getting acquaintance with the ground, I am abruptly pressed against a warm body.

  A hard, wet, and pretty naked body, I have to say.

  I slightly raise my head to squint upward from under my eyelashes directly into an attractive, thoroughly pissed off face.

  The dark stormy eyes are narrowed, his intense gaze threatening, and his beguiling mouth pulled into a sneer.

  He’s pissed off, oh fuck, extremely pissed off.

  “Uh, hi?” I croak awkwardly.

  I must have screamed my voice hoarse during my near fall for what other explanation is there?

  He does not reply. He merely continues to stare at me. And therein lies the problem.

  It’s not the collision that is the problem, nor the fact that all my stuff is scattered around the floor, he is.

  He and that damn stare of his, which seems to be trying to burn this ridiculous piece of material off my body.

  He’s fucking me with his eyes. And I’m allowing it.

  Because I can’t help it.

  Because it feels so damn good to be stared at by him like that after all these years.

  I feel dizzy, blood whooshes in my ears as I lose all sense of time.

  Unconsciously, I place my hands on his bare torso and touch his hot skin. It’s like my brain is dead again and my body is taking over.

  Trance-like, I trace small patterns on his chest with my fingertips. His muscles barely flinch under my touch, giving me the confirmation I need; the certainty he too feels it – our connection.

  He does not reciprocate my advances, nor does he touch me, it’s as if he doesn’t want this here at all. Yet, he does not stop me from doing what I started.

  Where his fingers have firmly closed around my wrists, grabbing me, my skin tingles pleasantly.

  Then, abruptly, it is over.

  One moment, I’m in his arms, tightly pressed against his body, and in the next, he rudely pushes me away.

  Just like that.

  He’s still staring at me, but his eyes darkened even more and his gaze seems – different, then a few seconds ago – somehow indifferent and … cold.

  “Can’t you watch where you going?” he snaps and crosses his arms in front of his muscular chest.

  The chest I was allowed to touch with my fingertips a moment ago.

  Fuck!

  That. Voice.

  So deep, raw, and sexy.

  How many women’s panties have become drenched listening to it?

  “Uh, sorry,” slips out indiscriminately. The words escape my mouth before I can think of a clever comeback.

  “That’s all you can think of saying?”

  He does not smile, doesn’t make a face. All I get is his icy look.

  Why are you looking at me like that ...?

  “It’s been three years since we last saw each other and all you can do is give me a hard time?” I ask stunned.

  “By the way, you could have paid attention just as easily or am I the only one with eyes in her head?”

  Shit. I didn’t mean to sound so bitchy. There has always been something about him that drove me crazy.

  “If my dad had listened to me, you wouldn’t be here,” he says unemotionally.

  “Believe me, you’re the last person I want to see.”

  Ouch. Bulls’ eye.

  Do I really mean so little to him?

  “I haven’t done anything to you, why are you such a damn ass to me?”

  “I’m not interested in your feelings,” he replies coldly.

  “So, be a good girl and keep your nose out of my business. I only tolerate your ass because you mean something to my dad.”

  What an arrogant asshole! Yet I cannot tear my eyes from him.

  The black hair is wet and still untamed. On his toned torso, countless tiny water droplets slowly work their way down and disappear into the tight fabric.

  His whole appearance is impressive.

  He stands before me large, wet, hot, in nothing more than a towel wrapped around his waist, his dark eyes directed at me menacingly.

  “Tell me what happened, Blake,” I ask gently and firmly return his gaze.

  “Why do you exclude me?”

  He gives me a bittersweet smile before quickly overcoming the distance between us, putting his hands around my waist and lips to my ear.

  “Now listen up, baby,” he growls harshly and I freeze.

  “If you insist, I will fuck you right here against the wall or on the floor until your pussy is so sore you cannot walk tomorrow, but let me make one thing perfectly clear: never ask me again, I repeat, NEVER again ask me to explain my fucking life to you. Am I making myself perfectly clear?”

  As if to emphasize his words, he firmly pushes his muscular body against mine while one hand wanders determinedly underneath the fabric of my towel and grabs my bare ass. Feeling the rock hard erection against my stomach, I gasp, startled.

  “I could use some distraction,” he whispers and gently nibbles my earlobe, eliciting a low moan.

  I know I should push him away and put him in his place. But it feels too good to be touched by him.

  “You can’t deny you want me just as much,” he whispers. “Your body betrays you.”

  He’s right. My body wants him at any cost.

  Nevertheless, my instinct for self-preservation prevents me from giving in to the temptation and handing him the reigns.

  He is not good for me. My intuition tells me as much.

  However, my intuition also tells me that eventually, I will give in if I don’t watch myself.

  “You’re imagining it,” I object calmly, trying to push his hands away from my body.

  “Is that so?” he asks thoughtfully and removes his grip from my waist.

  The tips of his fingers gently caress my stomach, the hollow between my breasts, until his hand grabs my neck possessively.

  “Are you afraid?” he wants to know, lightly squeezing.

  Nervous, I bite my lower lip and shake my head.

  “Well, you should be,” he growls and unexpectedly bites my neck. Hard.

  Before I can stop it, a surprised groan bursts from my mouth. The pain fuses with my lust and extinguishes whatever sensible thoughts, leaving me whimpering.

  Helpless, I dig my fingernails into his back, whereupon he growls, cups my buttocks, abruptly lifts me up, and pushes my body against the wall.

  As if they have a mind of their own, my arms wrap around his neck, my breasts press against his naked torso, and my legs wrap around his waist. The towel I was using a few minutes ago to cover myself so carefully falls to the floor at that exact moment.

  “I want you,” he moans against my neck and rubs his lower abdomen against my bared pubic mound.

  “Tell me you want me too,” he orders.

  My mind has only room for him and the things he does to me and my body. His closeness is as intoxicating as a drug, absolutely addictive.

  Each of my muscles is tense and only focused on the man in front of me, who holds me naturally in his arms.

  My breath is ragged and my heart beats wildly in my chest as he again gazes at me with an intense demanding look.

  His eyes are dark and veiled with lust. He has pulled his full, soft lips into a confident smile. The five o’clock shadow makes his attractive face look even hotter and raises the question of how his rough stubble might feel in certain places.

  Naked, aroused, and completely at his mercy, I linger in his arms. My inhibition is like blown away; all that’s left is my desire and the feeling of boiling lava coursing through my veins.


  “Blake, I …” I groan tormented, as he starts to rub his hips against me rhythmically.

  “You’re hot for my cock, baby,” he says smugly. “Just like all the other sluts.”

  I freeze.

  His words have the same effect as a bucket of ice-cold water pouring over me and instantly, I am ripped back to reality.

  Suddenly, his touches no longer feel intoxicating, merely disgusting.

  I could cry and scream. How could I have been so stupid?

  “Let me down,” I order stonily, avoiding his haunting gaze.

  “Why?” he asks in that deep husky sexy voice of his, which moments ago was still robbing me of my mind. Now, it makes my anger boil and I want to throw up.

  “Let. Me. Down.” I repeat my order. “Right now!”

  “If you want to blow me, just say so,” he replies with a dirty grin on his lips and obliges my request.

  I create distance between us with a well-aimed push against his chest before bending down to grab my towel as gracefully as possible.

  He never removes his eyes from me and watches every single one of my moves.

  “Fuck!” he moans. “You sure you don’t want to stay down there?”

  I stubbornly try to focus on his face while avoiding the obvious erection, which clearly protrudes from beneath the white material.

  “I’m not one of your sluts who run after you salivating. Kindly remember that, White.”

  “A moment ago you were in my arms, all wet and willing, and now you want me to believe you no longer desire me?” he asks, taking a step closer.

  “Who are you trying to kid here, baby?”

  Nervous, I cringe until I feel the unyielding wall at my back. “Anyone can have a lapse of judgment every now and then,” I mock. “For a moment, I was brain dead.”

  Unexpectedly, he places his hands beside my head, holding me in place with his half-naked body.

  “You can deny it as often as you want,” he growls. “But in the end, you’ll be lying underneath me, screaming and begging for more.”

  He sounds arrogant and confident. For him, it’s just a matter of time before I give in.

  “Fuck you, Blake,” I growl back and quickly slip under his arm, leaving him there.

  Arriving in the bathroom, I quickly lock the door and, exhausted, lean my head against the cool tile wall.