The Lie

  “Oh god,” she says softly, and her hand flies out to the wall to stabilize herself as she fucks my face. I press the tip of my tongue to her clit, rubbing in tight, hard circles until she’s coming on me. I can feel every pulse as the orgasm tears through her, my mouth drenched with her, her skin blisteringly hot and slick. To her credit, she keeps quiet, keeping her noises to little shuddering moans and gasps that are just as sexy as her usual screams.

  When she starts to squirm and fidget, I move my face away and grin up at her, barely seeing her face behind those amazing tits of hers.

  “Hi,” I say softly, waggling my eyebrows.

  “Wow,” she whispers in response.

  “We aren’t done,” I tell her. I get up and push her down into the bed so she’s on her back. I prowl on top of her, my knee spreading her legs until I’m right over her, my chest pressed against hers. I wrap my fingers around her wrists and pin her hands above her head, holding her in place. Then I trail the tip of my nose down the middle of her face, pausing at her lips to kiss her.

  “Fuck, Natasha,” I whisper, closing my eyes briefly. “You have no idea what you do to me, how you make me feel.”

  “You’ve said that before,” she says. “And you ended up telling me.”

  She’s right. It took a while but I eventually told her the truth.

  I breathe in deeply and adjust myself, my cock pushing against her wet cunt but not going in.

  “And what did I say?” I ask her gently.

  “You said I was more to you than I had thought. A terrible amount.”

  That was one way to describe it.

  “A terrible amount,” I repeat, opening my eyes and getting lost in hers, so deep, just inches away. Bloody hell, I’m losing myself to her again. No, I’m already lost.

  I try to swallow. I rub my lips together, finding courage.

  “It is a terrible amount,” I say. “It’s more than that. Natasha…I’m in love you. Plain and simple. I was in love with you before and I’m more in love with you now. I don’t even know how it’s possible, but it is. And because it is, it makes me think anything’s possible. Even us.”

  She stares at me, a swirl of emotions behind her eyes, and I wish I could pluck one out and examine it, to see what she’s feeling. She’s speechless.

  I briefly brush my lips against hers. “Talk to me,” I whisper. “Say something.”

  “You love me,” she says, almost in awe.

  “Yes,” I tell her, smiling like a fool. “Yes. Natasha, I love you. More than I’ll ever be able to express. Just know it. Believe it. And love me too.”

  “Oh, Brigs,” she whispers, her mouth parting into a wide, glowing smile. “I’ve never stopped loving you.”

  My heart thumps. “Even after all these years?”

  “Even after all these years. Through the dark and the light, I never stopped. I might have pushed it aside, I may have buried it, put it on pause, but I never, ever stopped.”

  I feel like a million balloons have been let loose in my chest. I want to laugh. I want to cry. I stare at her, amazed. Just so fucking amazed that we found each other again, and that this us, this us is beautiful.

  “I love you,” I tell her again.

  “I love you,” she says.

  I kiss her, hot, hard, and possessive as my body kicks into gear, trying to catch up with my heart. This soft tenderness I feel for her is being swirled around with the primal desire, and before I know what I’m doing, I’m pushing inside of her. Her legs widen to let my cock in and I sink into her, so wet and cushioning around my hard length. We fit so well together, like a lock and key, that it’s hard to imagine how I survived this long without her.

  “You are my salvation,” I whisper into her ear, licking along the rim. “You save me from the world. You save me from myself.”

  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 fucking 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 fucking 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 fucking 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 fuck 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 fuck 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.”

  “Are you serious?”

  He shrugs. “Why not? I’m liking my life down here. This feels right. This is where you are.”

  I’m taken aback. Completely flattered. Still… “Don’t change your life on account of me. Selling your place is a major deal.”

  “And being in love with you is a far bigger deal than that. I’m not going anywhere, Natasha. I’m at your bloody feet and that’s not going to change.”

  Damn. This man has a way with words.

  “You’re getting royally fucked when we get back to your place,” I tell him. “And I mean that in a good way, of course.”

  “I’m glad you clarified that,” he says, shooting me a grin.

  And I wasn’t kidding. Once we get the pedalo to shore and head back to his flat, as soon as we get in the door, I attack him. I know I’m supposed to get my period in a few days, and my hormones are all over the place, plus my heart is on the rampage. Mix that all together and I’m one insatiable girl.

  We disappear into his bedroom and our clothes come off, and I’m riding him first, my breasts bouncing, and I thrust my hips, his cock buried deep inside, his face staring up at me in lust and awe, like he can’t believe I’m real.

  Then I’m on my side, my leg lifted over his hip, and he’s driving into me, faster and faster, the headboard slamming loudly against the wall. Sweat drips off his body and onto mine, and the room fills with the thick smell of sex and the intoxicating sounds of my greedy moans and his grunts and his dirty mouth as he fucks me into oblivion. When I come, I’m a dam unleashed, and I’m screaming his name, letting everything go. Every fear, every thought, every darkened part of me. I’m liquid bliss and sunshine and every star in the universe.

  “Bloody hell,” he swears a few moments later, rolling onto his back. “You weren’t kidding earlier. I’m pretty sure Horny Natasha might be the death of me.”

  I give him a lazy smile. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

  “It’s not.” He gets off the bed, peeling off the condom, and I make a mental note to go to the doctor and get on birth control as soon as I can. The other night at his parents’ house was too risky. “And now I’m fucking starving. How about I heat us up some pies?”

  “Post-sex beer and pie,” I say with a sigh, spreading out on the bed and stretching my limbs. “Pretty sure there’s nothing better.”

  “Who said anything about beer?” Brigs says, even though I know he’s joking. It’s pretty much become a ritual for us, eating pie and drinking beer, naked in his kitchen.

  I hear him go into the other room and start rustling around, turning on the oven. I lie on the bed, the orgasm glow pulling me into a soft sleep. But once I hear the beer caps pop off, I drag myself off the bed and join him.

  He hands me a beer, and we clink the bottles together, grinning at each other. It still blows my fucking mind that this is my life now, that this man, this gorgeous, special man can stand in front of me totally nude and I can do the same with him, and we can fuck and we can eat and we can love and we can just be.

  “How long is the pie going to be?” I ask. Brigs’ oven is notoriously slow and I possess little patience when it comes to food. My ass is proof of that.

  “Ten minutes, promise,” he says.

  There’s a knock at the door suddenly, scaring the crap out of both of us. Winter starts barking.

  “Fuck,” he says, quickly heading to the bathroom to grab a robe. Since I’m buck naked, I go into the bedroom, hauling Winter in there to shut him up. I close the door and slip on my jeans and his T-shirt, my cheeks going red as I think it could be a damn noise complaint. I was screaming pretty loud as I came, and that headboard was making a racket of its own.

  I open the door a crack and poke my head out. Brigs is peering through the peephole.

  “Who is it?” I hiss. “Are we going to get in trouble for being too loud?”

  “I hope not,” he says, hand on the knob. “I can’t really see, looks like maybe the girl down the hall…”

  He opens it and I duck my head back into the bedroom, shutting the door.

  “Where is she?” I hear a familiar voice seething from outside. “Where is Natasha?”

  Oh my fucking god! It’s Melissa!

  What the fucking fuck? I feel myself flattening against the wall, holding my breath. What the hell is she doing here?!

  “Melissa,” Brigs says. “What are you doing here? How do you know where I live?”

  “I followed you from Hyde Park,” she snarls, her voice carrying into the room. “I was watching you. I know, I know everything about you.” She yells, “Natasha, you come out here!”

  Jesus. I’m trembling, trying to catch my breath.

  “Melissa, you need to leave right now,” Brigs says, raising his voice. “You have no business being here.”

  “Natasha!” she yells, and I know if I don’t go out there, if I don’t show myself, she’ll cause a scene.

  I straighten my shoulders and remind myself that she’s the one being absolutely fucking crazy. She followed us here? What the hell is happening?

  “It’s okay, Brigs,” I say, stepping out of the bedroom and into the hall. I close the door behind me and stand there, folding my arms across my chest.

  Melissa is halfway inside the door. Brigs has a firm hold on it, trying to shut it on her, and he turns his head to look at me. I meet his eyes and give him the nod to let her in.

  He opens the front door wider and she barges inside, hustling right over to me, her eyes flashing.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” she cries out, pointing at him while she stares at me. “How long have you been lying to me?”

  “Why are you following me?” I question in return.

  “Because I know you’re a fucking liar, that’s why,” she sneers, waving her arms about. “There is no Bradley in the art history masters. I checked.”

  “You checked?” I repeat incredulously. “Why? Why the hell couldn’t you just believe me?”

  “Because,” she says, turning to glare at Brigs. “I knew, I knew that he was still hung up on you just as you were hung up on him.”

  “Melissa, please,” I tell her, trying to get her to calm down. “I don’t understand. Yes, I lied, but only because I knew you wouldn’t approve. That’s all. You said if he contacted me at all, you’d report him, and that’s the last thing I wanted.”

  “Oh, and I’m supposed to feel sorry for you because you had to lie? All you do is lie, Natasha. When you first met this wanker, you didn’t tell me anything about it at all. I only knew about him because I showed up at your door. You kept him a secret from me—your best friend.”

  Oh god. My heart sinks a bit. Is she really that hurt over it still?

  “I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I told you I was sorry. I was just so in love—”

&
nbsp; “That’s bullshit,” she says to me. “Love. You don’t know love. You said so yourself, you left your mother, your single mom, behind in California so you could come out here and do your own thing! At least you have a mother. I don’t even know mine. I was raised by my father and stepmother. And you gave that up and you gave up your acting career in LA. I mean, who do you think you are? That you’re so special you can just cast that shit aside? Do you know I’d kill for that? You have fucking everything, and then there are people like me, people who struggle, people who have nothing.”

  Holy fucking hell. I can only blink, the blood whooshing loudly in my head. I look over at Brigs and he’s watching her carefully, seemingly as taken aback as I am.

  “Melissa,” I tell her, trying to find my voice. “I’m sorry you think that, but you know that’s not me. That’s not my life.”

  “Yeah right,” she says, tears coming to her eyes. “You’ve always been better than me in every way. You’re prettier, taller, skinnier, more talented, smarter. You’ve always managed to get by in life, and then on top of all that, you end up having a married man fall in love with you, or so you thought.” She glares at Brigs. “He just wanted some young twat, that’s all.” She turns her vicious eyes back to me, and I’m caught between feeling sorry for her and being completely angry. “And that’s what you gave him. Couldn’t you just for once have passed him up? Couldn’t you have let someone else have him?”

  “Who, you?” I ask.

  “His wife,” she says. “That’s when I really knew what you were like.”

  I shake my head, the tears threatening my eyes, my chest a raging mess. “I don’t understand. Why pretend to be my friend then? Why act like you cared?”

  “Because I liked that you needed my help,” she says almost painfully. “I liked that you were at rock bottom and needed a friend, and you only had me. You finally made me feel useful. I was important to you. I was worth something. You have no idea what you’re like, Natasha. You live in your head. You act like you don’t need a soul in the world. I see you pretending to care about the world around you, but you have some different fucking world inside you, a place you go to, and that’s just not fucking fair. Everyone else has to be out here, suffering, and you can retreat. I wanted to see in you pain, Natasha, because it’s the only way I knew you were fucking human!”