Page 62 of One Little Lie
Lifting my gaze, I know I would do anything for this girl. “Yeah, friends.”
Fucking friends. The words are like acid on my tongue, but I force myself not to make a face.
“Well, we built our friendship once upon a time on our mutual love of all things beautiful. That’s our foundation, Hatty. A lot of crap has changed, but our foundation was always solid. Learn to see the beautiful things again. Learn to love them. Open your eyes, and your heart will follow. It’s in there. I know it. I see your fingers itching to feel the charcoal. I feel the energy coming off you. Open your eyes and see the beauty in all the colors. Just let yourself feel it, Hatty. Find the beautiful parts of life again.”
Staring into her pools of emerald green as her words drift over me, all I see is beauty. All I see is perfection. Love. Light. All I see isher.
GG was right. I’ve been living in black and white, and Rylan just smashed through in vivid color. I’m blinded by it. By her.
Rylan leans forward, takes my trembling hand in hers, and points my palm toward the sky. She rests hers on top of mine for a few seconds. Her breathing is as labored as mine. But when our eyes connect, I’m transported back to the night of my would-be art show. The very first time we ever kissed, and I’m powerless to the force of her.
Moving a few inches, I place my palm flat on the ground next to her thigh and close the distance between us. “There’s nothing worse than not getting to keep what you want most in life,” I admit, right before my lips land on hers.
Kissing her is a sin. It’s wrong on every level, but nothing has ever felt more right. My body moves her forward, and she glides across the room with me. Our lips never part as her back hits the cot, and I hover over her.
My mind screams at me to stop, begs me not to betray my brother, but every inch of my heart and soul blocks them out. Lowering my hand, I skim the bare skin of her taut stomach, and she gasps into my mouth. I swallow her sounds, longing to make her scream my name.
The need to mark her as mine is overwhelming. My teeth sink into the sensitive skin just below her earlobe, and we both groan.
“Hatty.”
My dick grinds into her, and the primal need for skin on skin has my body ready to explode. How can one embrace bring me back to the days when loving her was so easy, so simple? With one touch, the pit of self-hatred I dwell in melts away. She’s still my sunbeam even after all this time. She holds my happiness in her palm, and my soul pleads with my brain to hold her tight and never let her go.
“Fuck, Rylan. Fucking hell,” I groan as my hand ghosts over her ribs before settling under the curve of her tit. My thumb flicks rapidly as her nipple hardens beneath my ministrations, and I roughly pull the cup of her bra down to roll the perfect little nub between my thumb and forefinger.
Happiness.
That’s what she is for me, and my heart weeps with it when she’s in my arms.
It’s impossible for me not to feel happy when she’s near. She chases away the darkness with her smile, and I’m a fool for ever thinking I could forget her.
“I-I need you, Hatty.”
Four little words are my undoing, and I’m suddenly frantic for us to be joined. My other hand lowers to the button of her denim shorts, and I flick it open. With one hand on her nipple, and one sliding into her panties, I lower my lips to hers, but she stiffens.
“Oh, shit.” She’s scrambling away before I know what the fuck is going on. “Someone’s here,” she screeches, adjusting her top and attempting to button her jeans.
That’s when I hear it. The click of a car door.
“Hello?”
Dropping my gaze, I shake my head. I have a raging hard-on in gym shorts. There’s no hiding this shit.
“Who’s here?”
“I have no idea,” I grumble, adjust myself, then stand to kill the motherfucker.
Poking my head out of the tarp, I see two men walking toward us skeptically.
“Ah, Mr. Westbrook?”
Pushing Rylan behind me, I step out in front of the tarp. “Yes. That’s me. How can I help you?”
“Ah, Mr. Colton Westbrook sent us with a car for you.”
Colton. It’s like a slap across the face. He’s fifteen hours away thinking of me, and I’m here trying to fuck his forever. Self-loathing crashes over me like hot lava.
“Thank you,” I force out.
