Deceiving Lies
Page 3
She rolled her eyes and gave my mom a look that Mom clearly understood, since she started laughing. “All right, Kash. If you want to put up the fake wall to help you sleep at night—er, to keep you happy when you’re away—then have at it.”
Rachel
“OH MY WORD, this is a disaster,” I whispered as I pulled yet another shirt off my body and threw it on the bed before heading back to the closet.
I’d been in Florida for two weeks, and we’d spent every day with Mason, his family, or Kash’s parents; so Kash told me yesterday that he was taking me on a date tonight. I had been excited about time with just him . . . but then last night happened.
I’d had my first dream about Blake in over a month, and to make matters worse, Kash had been gone because he’d gotten a call from the police department as we were getting ready for bed and then left minutes later to go help. Apparently word on the street was two gangs were getting ready to have it out. I’d laughed and said it sounded a little West Side Story-ish, but when Kash told me there’d already been a lot of bloodshed between the two, and the body count would be high if they didn’t prevent it from happening, I’d shut my mouth.
Ever since I’d woken up in a cold sweat at 3:00 A.M., I’d been edgy, terrified to turn a corner in the house, and having flashbacks of everything that had gone down with Blake last year. I was ready for him to be gone from my life. It was ridiculous that even in death, he still found ways to torture me.
Now I was running fifteen minutes late and I still couldn’t find something that would cover all my scars. I didn’t pay a lot of mind to them now, since they’d faded significantly, but after the dream, it was like they were neon signs on my body screaming, “Look, look, look, look, looooooook!”
I grabbed a thin, long-sleeved shirt and threw it on, but the MINE on my chest was flashing its bitchy, bright lights at me; so I grabbed a button-up shirt and pulled it over. Even though the top buttons couldn’t button without looking all kinds of messed up because of the size of my chest, the collar still covered the little scar.
There. I’m ready now.
“Rach, what are you wearing? It’s hot outside.”
Don’t care. “It’s winter,” I reasoned as I caught Kash’s gaze in the mirror.
His gray eyes were heating as they trailed over my nonexistent ass, and while I loved that he was appreciating the view, I wasn’t in the mood to be checked out right now. I was having a mini freak-out. Tonight was going to be an epic fail if I couldn’t stop thinking Blake was going to randomly show up at the movie or restaurant.
Blake’s dead. He died in Texas. Blake’s dead. He died in Texas, I continued to chant to myself over and over again, but it wasn’t helping.
“Yeah, but it’s also seventy today.” Kash’s voice broke through my inner-chanting. “Take off the shirt underneath.”
“I’m fine.”
Wrapping an arm around my waist, he pulled me so my back was against his chest and brought his lips to the sensitive spot behind my ear. “I know you’re fine, but you’re gonna be too hot,” he whispered, his voice dropping even lower as he began slowly unbuttoning my shirt.
Goose bumps covered my body when the cool metal of his lip ring brushed against my skin, and I felt myself getting ready to say I would do whatever he asked of me. He was such a cheater. He knew what that piercing did to me.
“Open your eyes, Rachel.”
I did as I was told, and found his gunmetal gray eyes looking directly into mine. Even through the reflection of the mirror, I could feel the heat from them and sense the want. His hands trailed over my chest, waist, and stomach; the pressure was so light I almost couldn’t feel it, but it was doing insane things to my stomach, and my breathing quickly escalated. I watched as he slowly took my top shirt off, the movement of his hands so calculated and controlled, it felt like we had just entered some form of foreplay.
After he tossed the first shirt onto the bed, his hands did their barely there touches over the swell of my br**sts and down my waist again until he hit the hem of the long-sleeved shirt. One hand slipped under, and a breathy whimper of need sounded in the back of my throat when his warm hand caressed my bare skin. He smiled against my neck and nipped on it lightly. I wanted to shut my eyes and enjoy every touch, but everything in me was screaming to watch the most erotic undressing I’d ever witnessed or been a part of.
Like with the button-up, his movements were slow and controlled as he pulled this shirt higher, but now he gave little teases of fingertips being brushed against my skin. By the time it was over my head and he was letting it fall to the ground, my entire body was on fire and I was practically panting with need.
“Rachel.” His voice traveled over my bare shoulder like a caress, and I let my bodyweight fall against him.
“Hmm?”
Suddenly he was gone and I stumbled back a step before catching myself. I turned to see where he’d gone, and my button-up shirt hit me in the face.
“What the—”
“Get dressed, we gotta go.”
“The hell, Kash? You can’t do stuff like that to me and then stop!”
“Have you forgotten what frustration feels like?” he asked huskily. I wanted to punch him in the face.
“I hate you.”
His lips curved up into my favorite smirk and he winked. “I love you too, Sour Patch.”
Douche.
2
Kash
Rachel
“OH MY WORD, this is a disaster,” I whispered as I pulled yet another shirt off my body and threw it on the bed before heading back to the closet.
I’d been in Florida for two weeks, and we’d spent every day with Mason, his family, or Kash’s parents; so Kash told me yesterday that he was taking me on a date tonight. I had been excited about time with just him . . . but then last night happened.
I’d had my first dream about Blake in over a month, and to make matters worse, Kash had been gone because he’d gotten a call from the police department as we were getting ready for bed and then left minutes later to go help. Apparently word on the street was two gangs were getting ready to have it out. I’d laughed and said it sounded a little West Side Story-ish, but when Kash told me there’d already been a lot of bloodshed between the two, and the body count would be high if they didn’t prevent it from happening, I’d shut my mouth.
Ever since I’d woken up in a cold sweat at 3:00 A.M., I’d been edgy, terrified to turn a corner in the house, and having flashbacks of everything that had gone down with Blake last year. I was ready for him to be gone from my life. It was ridiculous that even in death, he still found ways to torture me.
Now I was running fifteen minutes late and I still couldn’t find something that would cover all my scars. I didn’t pay a lot of mind to them now, since they’d faded significantly, but after the dream, it was like they were neon signs on my body screaming, “Look, look, look, look, looooooook!”
I grabbed a thin, long-sleeved shirt and threw it on, but the MINE on my chest was flashing its bitchy, bright lights at me; so I grabbed a button-up shirt and pulled it over. Even though the top buttons couldn’t button without looking all kinds of messed up because of the size of my chest, the collar still covered the little scar.
There. I’m ready now.
“Rach, what are you wearing? It’s hot outside.”
Don’t care. “It’s winter,” I reasoned as I caught Kash’s gaze in the mirror.
His gray eyes were heating as they trailed over my nonexistent ass, and while I loved that he was appreciating the view, I wasn’t in the mood to be checked out right now. I was having a mini freak-out. Tonight was going to be an epic fail if I couldn’t stop thinking Blake was going to randomly show up at the movie or restaurant.
Blake’s dead. He died in Texas. Blake’s dead. He died in Texas, I continued to chant to myself over and over again, but it wasn’t helping.
“Yeah, but it’s also seventy today.” Kash’s voice broke through my inner-chanting. “Take off the shirt underneath.”
“I’m fine.”
Wrapping an arm around my waist, he pulled me so my back was against his chest and brought his lips to the sensitive spot behind my ear. “I know you’re fine, but you’re gonna be too hot,” he whispered, his voice dropping even lower as he began slowly unbuttoning my shirt.
Goose bumps covered my body when the cool metal of his lip ring brushed against my skin, and I felt myself getting ready to say I would do whatever he asked of me. He was such a cheater. He knew what that piercing did to me.
“Open your eyes, Rachel.”
I did as I was told, and found his gunmetal gray eyes looking directly into mine. Even through the reflection of the mirror, I could feel the heat from them and sense the want. His hands trailed over my chest, waist, and stomach; the pressure was so light I almost couldn’t feel it, but it was doing insane things to my stomach, and my breathing quickly escalated. I watched as he slowly took my top shirt off, the movement of his hands so calculated and controlled, it felt like we had just entered some form of foreplay.
After he tossed the first shirt onto the bed, his hands did their barely there touches over the swell of my br**sts and down my waist again until he hit the hem of the long-sleeved shirt. One hand slipped under, and a breathy whimper of need sounded in the back of my throat when his warm hand caressed my bare skin. He smiled against my neck and nipped on it lightly. I wanted to shut my eyes and enjoy every touch, but everything in me was screaming to watch the most erotic undressing I’d ever witnessed or been a part of.
Like with the button-up, his movements were slow and controlled as he pulled this shirt higher, but now he gave little teases of fingertips being brushed against my skin. By the time it was over my head and he was letting it fall to the ground, my entire body was on fire and I was practically panting with need.
“Rachel.” His voice traveled over my bare shoulder like a caress, and I let my bodyweight fall against him.
“Hmm?”
Suddenly he was gone and I stumbled back a step before catching myself. I turned to see where he’d gone, and my button-up shirt hit me in the face.
“What the—”
“Get dressed, we gotta go.”
“The hell, Kash? You can’t do stuff like that to me and then stop!”
“Have you forgotten what frustration feels like?” he asked huskily. I wanted to punch him in the face.
“I hate you.”
His lips curved up into my favorite smirk and he winked. “I love you too, Sour Patch.”
Douche.
2
Kash
