LUCAS
Emerson had turned me into a Peeping Tom, and as torturous as it was—sheer and utter torture—it wasn’t exactly against my will. I was free to look away anytime I wanted. Close the blinds or my eyes. But I didn’t.
I stood there watching. Like some pimple-faced teenager spying on the girl next door.
But, shit, how could I not? When she was straight up stripping?
And fuck if she wasn’t doing it on purpose.
It was bad enough I was still sporting a hard-on from where her hands had been all over me. That massage of hers had turned sexy as hell, and she’d made me forget all about the beatdown I’d taken at the stadium. As much as I’d like to think I’d held my own, I’d been outdone by her brothers and her old man, and no matter how many times they tried to laugh it off as a “friendly game,” they weren’t kidding anyone. Those guys had been out for blood.
But Emerson had made the whole thing worthwhile. If her father hadn’t busted in on us when he had, I was pretty sure I would have scored with her, ending our standoff about who could be the better friend to whom.
Now, here I was, a guest in her family’s home and taking advantage of my bird’s-eye view of her childhood bedroom, while she stood in front of the window (probably . . . almost certainly deliberately) undressing in a way that would give any skilled stripper a run for her money.
She’d already shimmied out of her jeans and shed her top. She was down to only her bra and a pair of lacy trimmed panties. The dim light behind her gave her skin a radiant glow as she ran one finger suggestively along the inside of the delicate waistband, never once glancing my way, as if she were clueless to her captive audience of one.
“Fuck,” I cursed, running my own hand through my hair. I’d definitely need another shower.
What had I expected? I already knew she wasn’t a play-fair kind of woman.
And, if I was being honest, Emerson wasn’t the only one playing games. My whole let’s-be-friends campaign wasn’t having the results I’d hoped for.
What did I really want from her? With Emerson, I never know whether I was coming or going. On the surface, it should have been simple. She was drop-dead fucking gorgeous, and when she’d first moved in, I’d expected her to be an uncomplicated fuck buddy. Someone to have a few laughs with, but who would be gone by the end of the summer.
Over time though, I’d seen past all her swagger and gotten a glimpse of the parts of her she tried to keep hidden from the rest of the world. She was driven, and had graduated at the top of her class in both high school and college. She never said as much, but I knew from her conversations with her best friend, Lauren, that the internship she was starting next month—the one she played off as no big deal—was a huge deal. She’d beaten out a field of thousands of qualified applicants to get it. I also knew from their conversations that she was loyal . . . aggressively so. So much so, that I feared for Will’s safety if he ever fucked Lauren over—no joke.
But Emerson wasn’t my biggest obstacle to the two of us being together, it was me. My baggage. My life had become a mess since Adam had died. Not just because of Aster or the gala, or even the fact that I was still lying to my mother about my engagement to Aster. But I no longer had any idea who I even was anymore . . . or what I wanted.
Even if I wasn’t trying to hide my breakup with Aster, I couldn’t afford to give anything more than friendship to anyone.
Before Adam’s death, I’d been ready to take on the world. I thought I had my shit together. Losing him destroyed me. It was as if I’d died too. I wasn’t like my mother, or even my father, who only needed to say the words it’s for the best and took comfort in knowing he was no longer suffering.
Nothing about losing Adam was for the best. Part of me never really believed he would actually die. Somehow, I guess I thought he’d manage to beat the disease. He would be the one person, who, no matter how many times he got sick . . . no matter how bad it got and how hard it was for him to breathe . . . would beat the odds.
He’d win.
We’d win.
I mean, I knew better. Of course I knew. I’d lived with that truth all my life.
But there I’d been, still not willing to accept the truth.
He was my brother and he was all I had.
I’d clung to that hope right up until the final day. The final minutes. Until my parents had agreed to take him off life support. And when they did, they’d unplugged me too.
If I went anywhere during those first weeks after his death, I don’t recall. If I ate, I don’t remember. If I showered, slept, if I even breathed, it was all a blank.
Aster had been there though. She’d taken care of me. She made sure arrangements were made and my needs met.
Before Adam died, I’d admitted to him that I was going to break off my engagement to Aster. He was the only person who knew my plans.
But then, before I could tell Aster, everything had changed so quickly. And afterward, when Adam was gone and things became so muddled . . . I’d been so untethered from everything, and it was only Aster who was there, holding me down.
So I stayed.
And I let her stay.
For too long.
Then one day I woke up and realized it was time. I had to start living again. Not just for me, but because Adam would have wanted that. It was what he’d always wanted for me.
I did all the things my family—my mother, in particular—had never let me do, back when she’d insisted I stay close in case Adam needed me. I quit working for my uncle, at a job I hated. I started the foundation so I could honor Adam’s memory. I moved to the beach so I could finally learn to surf, the way Adam and I had always dreamed of doing.
Before long, I realized there was no place for Aster in this new life. I never lied to her. I explained everything, trying to make her understand. But by then she considered herself a fixture in my life, permanent and irreplaceable. She refused to let go, the same way I had after Adam’s death.
I never really stopped to ask myself what Aster wanted, mostly because it seemed obvious—she wanted me to stop messing around and come back to her. But why? I understood my mother’s motivation for wanting Aster and me together, but Aster already had social standing and fortune. Surely, she could do better. What kind of future did she really see for the two of us?
Frankly, the future I envisioned for myself was a black hole. Then and now.
I considered myself damaged goods. For Em’s sake, it was better that she’d be leaving soon. I was too broken to be in a relationship with anyone. If she had any sense, she’d pack her shit and move to Arizona tomorrow.
I stared up at her window as she reached behind her back. With an unseen flick of her fingertips, she released the delicate lace bra and it fluttered to the floor, freeing the lush peaks of her breasts.
Goddamn, she had magnificent tits.
I should look away. Close my eyes. Stop staring like some deviant.
Then her gaze shifted and fastened on mine, giving up the sham altogether. My teeth clenched and I exhaled tightly. If I’d been hard before, seeing the intensity burning behind her eyes, I could cut glass with my cock now.
Tonight would be a test. Emerson was my drug. She coursed through my veins, making me ache with need. I hoped I could survive this party tonight without bending her over, kicking her legs apart, and thrusting myself inside her from behind.
Otherwise, I doubted the men in her family would “take it easy” on me again.