Scared of Forever (Scared #2) (11 page)

Emily grinds against
me, fiercely, relentlessly. I lean forward and take a nipple into my
mouth. She moans louder and flings her body back, now rising and
falling onto my dick with her hands on my knees, her nails digging
into the skin. My own hands dig into the flesh of her ass. I’m so
close; she’s so close. Her screams are so fucking loud. I place a
hand over her mouth to quiet her, her moans and screams interchanging
in synchronicity. Emily doesn’t want to be told to be quiet
.
Not tonight.
She leans forwards and crashes her lips
against me. “
Fuck me
,”
she whispers the command.

I pull her off of me
and flip her, face down onto the couch. My lips find her neck,
leaving hard, ferocious kisses in my wake. I enter her from behind.
She screams, muffled by the pillow. For a moment I think I may have
hurt her. But I can’t stop. My dick pounds into her, harder with
each merciless thrust, my chest pressed hard against her back. I grab
her by the hair and pull her head up, kissing her as I come, and then
she comes. And the warmth and throbbing are blissful. And we lay
there, just like that, breathless, spent. Exhausted.

Eventually, I manage to
muster the energy to raise myself from Emily. She winces as she
stands. “Did I hurt you?” I ask, genuinely concerned.

“It’s a good pain,”
she smiles and kisses me, softly and deeply, before retreating to the
bathroom to, I presume, jump in the shower.

I grab a bottle of
water from the fridge and sit on the chaise. My mind is blown. Emily
was always my good girl. But tonight, she fucked me like an absolute
freak. Tonight she fucked me with more wild abandon than even Aria
does.
I’m so fucking confused.

I think I’m
overthinking things. I think I just might have developed a guilty
conscience. Emily was my marriage for the sake of convenience. And I
love her. But Aria is my soul mate, and she is irreplaceable.
It
all works for me
. If only I can keep my own fucking guilt
from turning this whole thing inside out.

Emily walks out of the
shower a few minutes later and sits down next to me. “Are you going
to put pants on?” she teases.

“Eventually,” I
smile. “I’m a little exhausted.”

“You’ve had a long
day,” she says sympathetically. “Want a massage?”

“Of what?” I laugh.
“If it’s this, then I may need a longer recovery,” I say,
pointing to my dick.

“Your back, dummy,”
she laughs.

I lay on my stomach and
Emily straddles my back, her soft and lean fingers kneading
purposefully into the muscles. She rakes her nails down the back of
my neck, and sends delicious shivers coursing through my body. “Em?”
I ask. “What was that all about? I mean you’ve never been—like
that.”

“Hmmm,” she says,
concentrating on her task.

“Not that I’m
complaining!” I add quickly.

“I just missed you,”
Emily replies, her voice rising in an awkward way. I’ve never heard
that tone before. It unnerves me.

She lays down flat
against my back. I can feel her breathing as she runs a hand through
my hair. I can’t imagine being anywhere else right now. Still, my
mind drifts to Aria. And I picture her alone.
And
I hate that thought.

Emily sits up and I
follow, pulling her head to rest on my shoulder and wrapping an arm
around her. She nestles in closer to me.

“Blake?” she says
softly. “What happened to make you hate your brother so much?”

I consider the
strangeness of the question.
What
exactly has my brother been telling her?
“It was
something minor that just got out of control.”

“What happened,
though?” she persists.

“He smashed my first
car, we fought about it, and never really made up,” I say
confidently.

Emily is silent for a
few moments. “Seems a stupid reason to be so angry at each other,”
she finally replies. “I mean, your family can buy another car like
the rest of us buy cheeseburgers.”

“Yeah, well, siblings
fight over dumb shit. It’s what happens when you have someone
permanently invading your space,” I say. “Has Tyler been talking
to you?”

“No,” she replies
simply. “I just realized that I don’t know very much about who
you were before we met.”

“Would that change
how you feel about me now?” I ask nervously.

“I don’t think so,”
she replies. “Unless it was something unforgiveable.”

“You’d really leave
me?” I ask.

“No, I’m not saying
that,” Emily defends. “I’m just saying that if there was
something huge that happened before in your past, I’d expect you to
tell me about it. And you would, right?”

“Baby, there is
nothing to tell,” I say, leaning forward and kissing her softly. “I
forgot to mention, we have a charity dinner next Saturday. My
mother’s a guest speaker, so we kind of have to go.”

“Sure,” Emily says
and stands shortly after to turn the kettle on. From my seat, I can
see her standing in front of the mirrored splash back. She traces a
line gently over her lips. Even from here, I can see the small smile
that forms on her lips and the faraway look she has in her eye. It’s
a far cry from the game of twenty questions we played a few minutes
ago. She looks lost. Lost in a blissful memory.

The following few days
drag by mundanely. Blake and I spend Sunday curled up in front of the
TV. On Monday, I go to work as usual. Tuesday passes by exactly the
same way. By Wednesday, I’m wondering why I haven’t run into
Tyler lately. A few days ago, every time I turned around, he was
there. I know he’s still in his apartment. I see the light filter
in from the crack below the door when I come home.
Not
that I’m looking!
Or counting down the days or hours or
anything.

The last time I saw him
was the day we went to the Hamptons together. The day he kissed me.
The day everything became so awkward. He had apologized profusely for
the kiss. I had dismissed it as quickly as it had happened, because
really, I didn’t know what else to do. The ride home from the
Hamptons had been torture. Two hours of awkward energy and silence.
The last and only words I had said to him were to thank him for the
day, and goodbye.

But that kissed had
stayed with me. Not only was it eating away at my conscience because
it was so wrong, but also because when Tyler kissed me, the waves,
the wind, the sun’s glimmer on the water, had all stopped.
Ceased
to exist
. For the briefest moment, I was filled with this
feeling that I had never ever experienced before. Tyler’s lips
against mine. Passionate and purposeful. As if he had managed to
delve right down into the depths of my very soul. My body had
screamed in response. I had let the kiss last. Needed to let the
moment linger. I hadn’t stopped it or pulled away. Something that
felt so right, bred from something so wrong.

As I’m locking the
apartment door, I hear the ding of the elevator, and barrel straight
into Tyler as I turn. “Oh my God!” I yelp, clutching at my chest.

“Nope, just me,”
Tyler grins widely, single dimple and all.

“I’m really sorry,”
I say, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks, knowing that I must be
blushing furiously. I’m suddenly incredibly embarrassed and
desperate to get out of there. I sidestep him and walk towards the
elevator.

“Emily, wait!”
Tyler calls after me. He looks amazing. Sweaty and glowing from his
morning jog. I don’t want to turn around. Not until I return my
face to a color that does not resemble a beet. I breathe, and count,
and finally turn.

“Yeah?” I say
casually.

“Can things just not
be awkward between us? I know what happened on Saturday was, well, it
was what it was. But I thought we could at least try and move past
it. I like your company,” he says, almost pleadingly.

“Tyler,” I sigh.
“If it’s as simple as you claim it to be, then why have you been
avoiding me for the last few days?”

“I haven’t,” he
replies a little too quickly. “Okay, I have, but only because I
felt so bad about putting you in that position.”

“You should!” I
scold. “I am marrying your brother! Plus, I was really enjoying
hanging out with you. And then you go and do that? Why would you even
do that?”

“I don’t know. It
was the moment. The beach, the sunset. Everything was just so
perfect. I had so much fun with you and you—” he trails off,
rubbing his hand through his damp hair. “I just forgot myself,
okay? You looked so different from the way you do when you’re stuck
in this life. You looked so free and happy. But I was wrong. And I’m
sorry.” He looks positively stricken.

“I accept your
apology. And I’m sorry if I led you on in any way.”
I
did, I know I did
. “But please don’t put me in such a
fucked up position again,” I say with a determined glare.

“I swear,” he says
sincerely, before turning towards his apartment door.

“Tyler?”

“Yup,” he says,
turning towards me, key in hand.

“Did you tell me the
truth about why you and Blake don’t talk anymore?” I ask.

“The whole and
complete truth, I promise,” he says. “Why, did something come up?
Did Blake say something different?”

“I didn’t ask him,”
I lie. I walk into the waiting elevator, an uncomfortable feeling in
the pit of my stomach.
Why would
Blake lie to me?
Then again, Tyler could be the one who’s
lying. But something inside of me tells me that he isn’t. I saw it
in his eyes. I saw his sincerity at the beach house, and I saw it
again today during his apology. I also saw Blake avert his eyes when
we spoke about it. My head hurts from the messed up mystery that’s
got me questioning everything I know about my fiancée. I resolve to
ask him about all my suspicions and his supposed skeletons, come hell
or high water.
But how do I do
that without exposing my own? Without being forced to tell him about
the time I’ve spent with Tyler?

I arrive at the beauty
salon right at nine am. Standing there, waiting for me out in front,
is a very severe (as usual) Eliza Carson. “Good morning,” I smile
charmingly at her as I approach.

“Hello dear,” she
says with a wholly manufactured smile. “I dropped by to give you
the gown I bought for you to wear to the charity event on Saturday.”
She shoots a look at her driver, and he reaches into the town car to
grab a very expensive looking box.

“You shouldn’t
have,” I say sweetly. “I’m sure I could have just worn one of
the gowns that I already have.”

“And run the risk of
being recognized as the girl who wore the same gown twice? No, that’s
not an option, dear,” Eliza replies, the mild disgust at the mere
thought quite evident in her voice.

There really is no
point in arguing with this vile woman. I stretch out my arms and
accept the surprisingly heavy cardboard box. I produce my most
convincing plastic smile.

“Incidentally,”
Eliza begins, just before I turn.
I
knew there was another reason
. “I hear you met my
youngest son.”

My curiosity piques.
The tone in her voice suggests that this news does not please her. “I
have met Tyler, yes.” I say curtly.

“I’m sure he’s
apprised you of the situation between myself and him, and between him
and his brother,” she drones. The woman’s voice is totally
monotone. If watching paint dry could be expressed vocally, it would
be Eliza Carson’s voice.

“He has mentioned
it,” I say shortly. I want to draw out more from her.

“Is that all he’s
mentioned?” she asks with a suspicious glare.

“Is there more?” I
rebut. My fabricated smile makes the question come out sardonically.

Eliza releases a heavy
sigh. “Tyler is troubled. You would be remiss to think that he has
your best intentions at heart. He only desires to destroy Blake’s
future.”