“Fuck, Waverly, you still believe all that eternally sealed bullshit?” My body heats, I feel her slipping away. “It’s not real. None of it. You know what is real?”
I press my mouth against hers once more, claiming her for what might be the very last time. With beer and rebellion on our tongues, our lips fuse. My hands cup her face, hungrily, refusing to let her go until I’m good and ready.
“That,” I say, coming up for air. “That’s fucking real. You feel that?”
Her lips are swollen, her eyes big. “You’re kissing me like you love me, or something.”
“Maybe I might.”
“That’s awfully romantic.” She rolls her eyes. “Can’t even commit to how you feel, but you expect me to run away with you.”
“I’ve never said those words to anyone. It’s not easy for me.”
“I’m not asking you to say them, I’m just asking you to make up your mind. Either you do or you don’t. Don’t tell me you might. That’s insulting.”
My hands slide down to the indentation above her hips. “So you’d run away with me if I told you that I…”
I can’t say it. There’s not a lot in this world that truly terrifies me. I’ve been beaten, neglected, abused emotionally and physically, but those three tiny words are more powerful than anything I’ve ever experienced.
“I don’t know,” she says. “I don’t think you’ll ever say it, so I won’t get my hopes up.”
“You’re hopeful that I—”
She folds her arms. “Yeah. I am. I hope you’ll tell me you’ll love me because then I’ll know all this fooling around, all the back and forth, all of it was for a reason greater than either one of us ever realized.”
“Do you…?”
“Yes,” she says, like it’s no big deal, like it’s something she accepted a long time ago. “I love you.”
I can’t remember the last time anyone ever told me that. Perhaps it was a grandparent or an aunt when I was little, and I’m sure it was written in a birthday card. But I’d never heard those words, spoken to me, out loud. Warmth threads my veins.
The feeling is mutual, and the words are on the tip of my tongue. “These last few months have been the best months of my life.”
“Mine too.” She stands on her toes, lifting her mouth to mine.
I have to have her—now. It’s not carnal; it’s a craving much deeper. My cock swells from her kiss, enhanced from the way her body is pressed against mine. I reach for her pants, unbuckling her jeans and then mine.
“What are you doing?” Her voice is breathless as she pulls from my mouth.
I pull a condom from my wallet and sheath myself before taking a seat on one of the plastic chairs. Waverly climbs onto my lap, lowering herself into me. Her hips rock and circle, her head tilts backward. I grip her hips, guiding her up and down. She’s so fucking tight, her muscles clenching around me with each fluid movement.
There’s an intimate sensuality in her eyes I’ve never seen before, I recognize it the second our eyes meet. And the warmth threading through my veins? That must be what love feels like.
She moans, louder than ever, celebrating the fact that we don’t have to muffle ourselves here because the party inside drowns out our passionate sounds. And then she calls my name, gripping my shoulders as she rocks back and forth. She runs her tongue along the length of her bottom lip, her eyes shut tight.
I feel the buildup in the base of my cock, spreading to the tip, seconds away from exploding. Her body tenses as her fingers dig into me, and she rides me harder, faster. My release is urgent, hot, and her body clenches around my cock as she breathes my name once more.
She collapses, her head on my shoulder as our chests rise and fall against one another.
That time was different.
I’m going to tell her I love her. Maybe not right now. But I will. Because I do.
I fucking love Waverly Miller.
CHAPTER 26
WAVERLY
“Waverly, wake up.” There’s panic in his voice. My face is warm, my eyelids the color of warm amber. I blink, rubbing my eyes.
And then I panic. “Jensen!”
It’s daylight. We’re lying on the floor of the balcony where we passed out the night before.
“Oh, my God. Shit. Shit. Shit!” I’ve never said any of those words before, and now I don’t even care that I’ve said them. My mind spins in tandem with my churning stomach.
“Mark’s going to murder us.” Jensen’s tone is more matter-of-fact than urgent as he pulls me up and then pats his pockets for his keys. We slip inside the apartment, out the door, and spring down the stairs, two at a time.
I’m not sure why we’re in such a hurry. It’s not like getting home any faster will save us from what’s about to happen. If anything we should be taking our time, prolonging the unavoidable punishment my father will fling our way.
It’s going to be bad.
It’s going to be really, really, really bad.
Jensen starts up his truck, wiping the condensation off the glass with the sleeve of his shirt. He doesn’t seem scared, but I know better. He should be terrified.
We endure the silent drive across town, neither of us saying a word until we pull up in front of the main house.
“Okay,” Jensen says. “Here’s what we’re going to say.”
My mouth is dry, my tongue smacking against the inside, but I can still taste last night’s beer. “Let’s just be honest and truthful.”
“That’s the worst fucking thing we can do right now.” He shakes his head, shutting off his engine. “I coerced you into hanging out with Liberty last night. We watched a movie. We fell asleep. Liberty will cover for us.”
“Yeah, but we smell like cigarettes and alcohol.”
Jensen pops his glove box, and mists me with some kind of body spray neutralizer before handing me a pack of gum.
“They’re not going to believe us,” I say, shoving the mint gum into my mouth.
“This is the best shot we have.” He peers over my shoulder, looking into the house. “And there he is.”
I turn around, seeing my dad standing in the front door, his hands on his hips, and his face wearing the chilliest expression I’ve ever seen. My stomach drops clear to the floor, and I’m two seconds from telling Jensen to just drive. I wish more than anything we could just stay in the car, drive away, and never look back.
“Let’s do this.” Jensen has a warrior mentality. He’s fearless. Always ready for battle. He saves people. He defends the defenseless.
But I’m positive he can’t save me right now.
Any hope I had of redeeming myself, any optimism I held for my future… gone.
We climb out of the truck and death march toward the front door, following my silent father inside. It’s past breakfast and the younger kids play quietly in the family room. Without saying a word, we head straight to the dining room.
Mom, Summer, and Kath are seated in the dining room, their hands folded neatly, their faces bleak and their eyes holding fear. They’re not afraid for my punishment, though—they’re afraid for my soul. Whatever retribution my father deems appropriate is going to be okay with them. I can see it on their faces.
The fact that my father has said zero words is an alarming testament to the fact that he’s beyond his breaking point. His anger subsided long before we arrived home, and it has evolved into a disturbing, quiet rage.
“I’m not going to ask where you were last night.” His statement throws a slight wrench in our plan. “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is you disobeyed me. You disrespected the house rules, and you disgraced Heavenly Father.”
My mothers are silent, judging us like a jury bred to side with the prosecution.
“From now until graduation, Jensen, you are to stay in Kath’s house. You will eat, sleep, and shower there. You are not to set foot near the main house, or Waverly, ever again.” My father’s voice booms, echoing through the dining room. I peer over his shoulder for only a moment to see Bellamy hiding around the corner, listening in. “You will look me in the eye at all times, Waverly.”