Inspiring You

Instead of walking in, I linger in the doorway and watch her play, getting lost in her singing. Lyric has an incredibly beautiful voice that gives our band an edge. I could probably listen to her sing all day long, if she’d let me. While she’s okay with her stage fright, she gets nervous when people watch her sing, including me. She conquers the fright, though, every time she steps up on stage, which makes her that much more amazing.

  As the song ends, she scrunches up her nose, clearly frustrated. She must be trying to work out something with the tune because the song turns right back on. She lines her finger to the guitar strings and her lips part, but she freezes when she notices me.

  A smile spreads across her face, and her green eyes light up. “Hey, I was just thinking about you.”

  I don’t know how she can look so happy to see me. She tells me all the time it’s because I make her happy. That has to be a lie. Lyric is just an upbeat person. She smiles about ninety percent of the time, laughs the other nine percent of the time, and that one percent is for the rare occurrences when she’s sad.

  “Weird. I was just thinking about you too before I came over,” I say with a small smile.

  “That’s because we can clearly read each other’s minds.” She sets down the guitar and stands to her feet, stretching out her arms and legs.

  “If that’s the case, then what am I thinking right now?” I ask as my eyes wander up and down her body.

  “Hmmm . . .” She taps her finger against her lips with a sparkle in her eyes. “That you so want to kiss me right now.”

  My lips quirk in amusement. “How’d you guess?”

  “Because it’s always what you’re thinking about,” she teases as she crosses the room toward me. “Morning, noon, and night, you can’t get my kisses out of your head. Because they’re that awesome.”

  “And apparently mind controlling,” I joke, already feeling better.

  “Well duh. Awesome kisses have to have the awesome power of mind control; otherwise, what’d make them awesome?” She grins, placing her hands on my shoulders.

  “Maybe your kisses are just awesome because you’re you,” I suggest, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

  Her attitude shifts from playfully joking to intensely wanting. I know what she wants, so I dip my lips and give it to her. I kiss her softly at first, but the longer our tongues tangle the more I begin to tip sideways on that wire. I just want to let go. Tumble off and never get back on.

  I back her up, kissing her passionately until our legs bump the side of the bed. We fall onto the mattress and she giggles against my lips. The sound makes me smile, but the light mood immediately heats up again as my hands travel up and down her sides, across her breasts and her waist. I kiss her with every ounce of emotion I have in me, but my body trembles as she parts her legs and grinds her hips against me. I fight the urge to stop, refuse to let the past control me.

  I won’t go there anymore.

  Back into the dark

  Where I’m lost and all alone.

  I won’t let them control me anymore.

  “My parents aren’t home,” she whispers against my mouth as I slip my hand under her shirt.

  I nod, even though she wasn’t really asking me a question. Not straightforwardly anyway. I know her well enough to understand what she wants without her flat out asking for it.

  I push back, grab the bottom of her shirt, and fumble to pull it over her head. Once it’s off, I toss it onto the floor.

  She stares up at me with her intensely green eyes as her fingers wander to the hem of my T-shirt. “Can I?” Her voice is soft as she carries my gaze.

  I swallow hard then nod, wishing she didn’t have to ask. Wishing I was strong enough to just get over my issues so I could be the kind of laidback, carefree guy she deserves. But it’ll take time before I’ll ever be able to jump off that wire without the inner fight rising inside me. I’m starting to believe that one day I’ll get there, though, which is more than I could say a few months ago.

  She sits up and I lean back so she can pull my shirt over my head. Then she tosses it onto the floor and splays her fingers across the tattoo on my side. She traces the lines of the feathers that form a phoenix, then her hands skate downward toward the top of my jeans. I shiver out of fear, out of want, my mind racing so quickly I barely register when she asks if this is okay. I dazedly nod and she skims her fingers back and forth across my lower abdomen, just below my waistband before she tugs on my belt loop, pulling me against her as she collapses onto the bed.

  I stick my hands out to brace the fall, but she yanks on my jeans again until I lower my lips to hers. I kiss her slowly, taking my time, memorizing every inch of her mouth as my hands explore her body. The longer the kiss goes on, the more complicated it becomes to breathe, but in the best fucking way possible.

  I don’t care if I die.

  If I ever breathe again.

  Just let this kiss go on forever.

  Let it carry me away

  To someplace better.

  Where it’s just Lyric and I

  No past, only the future.

  Let me be with her.

  Let me get through this.

  Let me get to a forever.

  I move back to remove her bra, then I crash my mouth to hers again as our chests collide. A shudder ripples through my body from the skin-to-skin contact. Fear resides inside me, underneath a sea of want, stirring.

  Don’t forget.

  Don’t forget.

  Don’t forget.

  What was done to you.

  Don’t forget that we own you.

  Don’t forget.

  Don’t forget.

  Don’t forget.

  I won’t let it consume me. Won’t let the past ruin this moment.

  No more. I’m stronger than this—than they are.

  Shoving the memory out of my mind, I focus on her lips, how incredibly soft they feel against my mouth, how her warmth engulfs me, and the pleading whimpers she makes as my hand wanders to the top of her shorts. My fingers linger there for a while as I fumble with the button. Once I get it undone, Lyric shimmies out of her shorts and kicks them onto the floor.

  I take in her long legs, smooth skin, and beautiful green eyes. “I don’t . . .” My fingers shake as I sketch a line up the inside of her thigh. “Are you sure you want me to touch you like—”

  She pushes up and slams her lips against mine, answering my question. As we lie back down on the bed, my finger slips inside her, and I instantly become lost in everything that’s Lyric. The way she lets me touch her. The way I’m the only one who gets to see her like this. The way she trusts me. How fucking gorgeous she is. How amazing her smile is. How amazing she is.

  “Ayden.” She moans my name as her eyes shut and she clutches onto my shoulders.

  Good God, I’m about to lose it. Seriously. Somehow between the fear and uncertainty, desire has completely taken over. I don’t even care that she’s touching my shoulders, my chest, my stomach. All I can think about is getting to see her like this.

  Once she comes apart, I brush her hair out of her eyes, place a tender kiss her lips, then roll on my side, letting my mind slow down.

  “Are you okay?” she asks, rolling over and facing me.

  I bob my head up and down. “I’m fine.” When she still looks concerned, I take her hand and place it on my chest. My heart thrashes as my adrenaline soars. “I promise I’m okay.” I swallow hard. “I love you and I trust you.” To prove it to her, I move her hand down my chest, across my stomach, all over my scarred skin. It’s tortuously confusing because I fear being touched yet at the same time, I want her to touch me more.

  Want. Fear. Want. Fear.

  So closely tied together.

  How can I untie them?

  And make them come apart.

  “I love you too,” she says.

  Sometimes it feels so unreal when I’m with her, like I’m dreaming. Maybe I am. Maybe I’m really still stuck in that house and thi
s is all just a dream, my mind’s way of coping with what happened to me. If that’s the case, then let me die in the dream, never wake up.

  “No matter what you think, no matter how much you say you’re not good enough for me, no matter what, I love you, Ayden,” she says, as if she senses where my thoughts are heading.

  Even though my body is quivering from her hands’ exploration, my lips manage to turn upward. “That kind of sounds like the start of a song.”

  She leans over me, her hair veiling around my face. “What can I say? I guess you just inspire me.”

  “You inspire me too.”

  “We so sound like a cheesy love song right now.” She grins as she sings, “You inspire me. I inspire you. Let’s get together and run through a magical field of rainbows and butterflies.”

  I snort a laugh. “Don’t pretend like you don’t actually want to run through a magical field of rainbows and butterflies. I know how much you love them both.”

  “Okay, you might be right. But let’s never, ever include rainbows and butterflies in our songs.”

  “Our songs?” I ask with a cock of my brow. “As in plural? Because we’ve only written one so far.”

  “You and I have a lot of songwriting in our future.” As if she senses me tensing, she adds, “Ayden, I know you say you’re not going on this tour, but I’m still holding onto the hope that you will.” My lips part in protest, but she talks over me. “And even if you don’t make it, I’ll still be back in a few months, and we’re going to pick up right where we left off. Nothing’s going to change between us.”

  Reality seeps in and my body trembles even more.

  Misreading my fear, she starts to withdraw her fingers, but I place my hand over hers, securing her palm against my chest.

  “It’s not that,” I say in an uneven voice. “It just scares me . . . Thinking about being away from you for three months.”

  “It scares me too,” she admits, giving in easily as I wrap an arm around her and pull her closer so our bodies are aligned perfectly.

  Surprisingly, I stop shaking and a warm calm settles inside me. I give myself a moment to breathe in the inner peace, to let it really sink through me, because I don’t get to experience calm very often.

  “I know you think I’m being naively silly,” Lyric whispers. “But I’m still hoping we won’t have to be apart. That you’ll go in on Monday and do this experimental therapy treatment, and the police will be able to find your sister.”

  I know that it’s not going to be easy. That it may take several tries for the treatment to work. That if it does work, it might be like opening Pandora’s Box, and my mind will be so fucked up that I’ll be back to where I started before I came to the Gregorys’. There’s also the possibility something could go wrong. That I could end up in shock, with more memory loss, or even heart failure. The risks are why Lila won’t let me go, and why Lyric looks like she’s going to throw up every time the treatment is mentioned.

  “Hey, it’s going to be okay,” I tell her when I note the paleness of her skin.

  “You don’t know that for sure.” She buries her face into my chest. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen to me.” I smooth my hand over the back of her head, wanting to promise her I’ll be okay no matter what happens.

  But I can’t bring myself to lie to her.

  I’M SO WORRIED ABOUT AYDEN, my stomach hurts. My heart . . . God, my heart is having the most trouble. I’m not sure how to convince it everything will be fine, that keeping this secret for Ayden is the right thing to do. I want to tell someone so they’ll stop him from going through with the treatment, but it feels selfish to do so. Not being able to help his sister has been silently killing him. If this treatment works—if he can remember enough to save his sister—then maybe he’ll be able to finally, finally live his life in peace.

  “You smell like vanilla cupcakes.” My voice is muffled as I press my nose against his bare chest.

  Ever since he told me he loved me, he’s been getting better with being touched. But he still trembles sometimes, and when things get really hot and heavy, we have to stop before he veers toward a panic attack. Right now, he’s extremely calm, though, at least for him, so I’m going to savor this moment for as long as he’ll allow it to continue.

  He tangles his fingers through my hair. “That’s because Fiona sprayed me with some girly perfume crap this morning. She used so much of it that it soaked through my shirt.”

  I laugh, nuzzling closer to him. “Really? Why’d she do that? Just to torture you?”

  “She said I needed to sweeten up. That I was acting too grumpy and sour.”

  “Why were you acting grumpy?” I cross my fingers that he’ll open up and tell me.

  “I don’t know . . . I think I’m just stressed and have been taking it out on everyone.”

  I inch to the side so I can set my palm on his chest and feel the rhythm of his heart. “Stressed out about the therapy?”

  His heart slams against my palm. “I’m stressed out about a lot of things.”

  I angle my head back and look up at him. “But right now, you’re worried about the therapy.”

  “Are you trying to play therapist?” he teases even though his pulse is still racing.

  “Maybe.” I push up, straddling him, and my pulse accelerates as his gaze drinks in my chest. “I just know how you are . . . that you shut down sometimes and don’t talk about your feelings. What you’re doing Monday is super huge, and I just want you to know that you can talk to me, and hopefully, I can help make you feel a little less nervous.” I sweep my hair to the side and flash him a grin. “Making people feel better is one of my many talents.”

  “And just how are you planning on making me feel better?” he asks, grazing his fingers across my breasts.

  Like every other time he touches me, butterflies lose their mind inside my stomach. “Well, I wasn’t planning on doing that, but if that’s what you want then . . .” I trail off as I lower my lips to his. “I’ll give it to you.”

  A husky moan escapes his mouth as I suck on his bottom lip. He cups the back of my head and draws me closer, sliding his tongue into my mouth. My body doesn’t feel like it’s under my control anymore as I rock my hips against his. He groans, but stiffens. I know he wants to do this just as much as I do—I can feel his hardness through his jeans. But wanting and having are two different things with Ayden, and I wait for him to stop us, like he usually does.

  But after counting under his breath, he kisses me more fiercely as he grinds his hips against mine. He repeats the movement over and over again, moaning and gripping onto my waist. My hips move rhythmically with his as I lose myself in him. My hands drift down his chest and to the top of his jeans. I want to touch him like he touches me.

  Touch him, touch him, all over.

  Never let him go.

  I wait for him to stop me and when he doesn’t, I undo the button of his jeans. His stomach muscles tense, but he continues kissing me. With a nervous breath, I dip my hands inside his boxers.

  He groans something incoherent about trusting me as his body trembles. I worry I’ve pushed him too far, but then he seals his lips to mine and kisses me so forcefully I swear I’m going to have a bruise. I fall blindly into the moment, part of me wishing I never had to return. That I could just stay this way, him and I in this perfect place where he lets me touch him.

  If only I could hold on forever.

  Hold onto him forever.

  He’s come too far

  Just to fall all over again.

  I can’t lose him.

  The fear is always there in the back of my mind that therapy is going to change him, remind him why he has such a difficult time letting people touch him.

  What if I lose him?

  “You’re not going to lose me,” he breathes raggedly as he blinks up at me, his eyes glossy, like he’s high from our kisses.

  “Did I say that aloud?
” I sound breathless. “Sorry, I thought I was talking to myself in my head.”

  He chuckles. “You know that makes you sound kind of crazy.”

  “Good for me you already love me,” I tease. “Crazy or not, you’re stuck with me now.”

  “That’s perfectly okay with me,” he says. “Just as long as . . . as long as you’re okay with being stuck with me.”

  I don’t answer with words. I answer with a kiss.

  We make out for at least another hour before we put our clothes back on and lie down on my bed side by side.

  “You should just spend the night,” I say as I trace the folds of his fingers.

  “I wish I could, but I don’t think your dad would appreciate coming home to that.”

  “My dad’s way more chill than he was when he first learned about us.”

  “Yeah, maybe . . . But since I want him to stay chill, I think I should probably not be in your bed when he gets home.”

  I jut out my lip, knowing he’s a sucker for the move. “That sounds like no fun at all.”

  He laughs, shaking his head as he rolls on his side. “As much as I love giving you your way, I can’t this time.”

  “Oh fine.” I sulk. “Can we at least do something fun tomorrow, though?” Before Monday when everything could change.

  “I actually promised Everson I’d go to his football game with him.” He strokes my cheekbone and my eyelashes flutter uncontrollably. “You should come with me.”

  “To a football game? Blah.” I make a face. “But if that’s what you’re doing, then count me in.” I dazzle him with a grin. “Man, it’s a good thing I love you.”

  A small, rare smile graces his lips then he kisses me again.

  “You taste minty,” he whispers against my mouth. “And kind of sugary.”

  “That’s because I just ate mint chocolate chip ice cream before you came over.”

  He takes another taste, before propping up onto his elbow. “Tell me something happy. I need happy right now.”

  “Happy, huh?” I drum my finger against my lips. “Well, today at school, I won an award for that project I entered in that art contest.”

  “Really?” The pain in his eyes briefly diminishes. “That’s amazing, Lyric, seriously.”