“Is that what the counting is about?”
He nods. “My therapists taught me some breathing exercises and stuff.”
“While I love that you’re trying, I still need you to know that it doesn’t matter to me. I want to be with you, no matter what.”
He leans up and kisses me, his hand sliding around my back. I shiver from the graze of his fingers against my flesh as he fumbles with the clasp of
my bra. Once he gets it unfastened, the straps fall from my shoulders, and the cool air nips at my skin. Even though I’m pretending to be as cool as a freaking cucumber, my heart slams against my chest.
“Tell me if I need to slow down,” he whispers against my lips.
Instead of telling him to go further, I grab his hands and place them on me. He groans from the touch, seeming in pain. But he has to be enjoying this since I can feel his happiness pressing between my thighs.
“Your skin’s so soft,” he murmurs, caressing the sensitive spot of flesh to the side of my breast.
I softly sketch his jawline with my fingertip. “So’s yours. And, one day when you’re ready, I’ll be able to touch you like you touch me.”
His hands continue to explore my body, his fingers scorching hot against my flesh. “What if I’m never ready?”
“You will be, Ayden. You’ve come a long way already.”
He sucks in an inhale through his nose then pushes up and slams his lips to mine while his hand glides to my breast, his thumb grazing my nipple.
“You taste like cookies,” he breathes softly through kisses.
“You taste like . . .” I trail off at the sound of a startled gasp from behind us.
“Oh, shit.” I scramble off Ayden, grab my shirt, and press it to my chest.
“I’m sorry,” Lila says from the doorway with her hand over her eyes. “I should have knocked first.”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” Ayden sputters, bolting upright in the bed. “I mean, you shouldn’t have had to, because we shouldn’t have been in here, doing this . . . doing stuff.” He rakes his fingers through his hair. “I’m so sorry.”
Lila remains quiet with her hands over her eyes. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to give you guys exactly one minute to get dressed and meet me downstairs. Then we’re going to have a talk. And, Lyric, I’m calling your parents and having them come over, as well.”
I pull a face. Great. This is going to be so awkward. “Okay.”
“Good.” She hurries away, leaving the door wide open.
I quickly put my bra on then yank my shirt over my head. “Well, looks like the cat’s out of the bag now,” I say as I hop off the bed.
“This is so bad.” Ayden stands up, wrapping his arms around his head, freaking out.
“Yeah, but we were going to tell them eventually.” I adjust my shirt into place.
He paces the floor in front of his bed. “But not like this . . . not after she saw me. And I need to prepare myself for how disappointed your parents are going to be.”
“Disappointed?” Confused, I step in front of him, forcing him to stop moving. “Why would they be disappointed? A little angry, sure, but they’ll get over it.”
He gulps. “Not over what happened. With me. I doubt they’re going to be happy that you’re with me.”
I gape at him. “Are you kidding me right now?”
“I know who I am.” He refuses to look at me, staring at a poster on the wall. “I have so many problems . . . My life is so fucked up. You’re so perfect, and they’re not going to want me ruining that for you.”
“First of all, I’m not perfect, and my parents definitely don’t think I am. There’ve been many lectures and punishments proving how imperfect I am, just like everyone else in the world. And, second of all, I honestly think they’ve been expecting this to happen between us.”
He shakes his head, his jaw set tight. “I highly doubt that.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re being ridiculous right now, and I’m going to prove it.”
I grab his hand and march for the door, ready to face the music. Ready to prove him wrong.
He is good for me.
Everyone knows it.
Everyone knows just as much as I do that we’re meant to be together.
Chapter 7
Ayden
I’m a nervous wreck going downstairs. Even though I knew our relationship would eventually be discovered, I expected it to happen later on and definitely not under such embarrassing circumstances. Now they’re really going to start keeping an eye on me.
“Dude, breathe¸” Lyric mutters under her breath as we reach the bottom of the stairway. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
I wish that were true. Tonight was so amazing—touching her like that, watching her fall apart underneath me. She tastes and feels so good that, if I had my way, I’d spend every hour of my life feeling her skin and kissing her.
Life would be so much easier if that were possible, but that’s hardly plausible. The reality of the situation is ugly and brutal and is about to become a whole lot more so.
My heart is hammering in my chest as we walk into the living room. Our hands are linked together, but the moment I catch sight of Ethan and Lila, I wrench away.
Lyric sighs at my movement then plops down on the sofa, appearing completely comfortable.
“So, what’s the punishment?” she asks, crossing her legs and relaxing back in the sofa.
“That’s for your parents to decide,” Lila replies with aggravation written all over her face. “But I’m just going to say that you are way too comfortable about the situation, young lady.”
“I’m not too comfortable. Not really,” Lyric protests. “I just know that this shouldn’t be as big as deal as you guys are going to make it. I mean, from the stories I’ve heard you guys and my parents tell each other when you guys drink too much wine, you all had sex by the time you were our age.”
Lila’s lips part in shock. “You’re having sex?”
“No, we’re not,” I interrupt, my voice higher than normal. “We were just . . .” I trail off, my cheeks warming with my mortification.
Ethan offers me a sympathetic look, seeming about as uneasy as I am.
“Whether we are or aren’t having sex is beside the point.” Lyric shoots me a dirty look from over her shoulder. “The point is that we’re legally adults, and if we were having sex, it wouldn’t be the end of the world.”
I press her with a stressing look. You’re making this worse, I mouth.
She carries my gaze with determination, but then sighs. “Fine, I’ll let us get our lecture. I was just trying to prove a point.”
Lila and Ethan sit with their mouths hanging open, at a loss for words. The room goes so silent everyone can probably hear the thunderous beat of my heart.
After a minute passes, I sink down on the opposite side of the sofa from Lyric. When the front door swings open, though, I spring up from the sofa and decide to sit on the chair across the room, way, way far away from Lyric.
“So, what’d they do now?” Mr. Scott asks, rubbing his hands together as he enters the room.
Beside him, Mrs. Scott doesn’t look as relaxed. I almost wonder if she already knows what’s going on.
“I . . .” Lila starts, but stops herself. “Well, I guess there’s no easy way to put it other than I caught them, um, messing around in the bedroom.”
Mr. Scott’s expression instantly plummets. “You caught them doing what?”
I slouch lower in the chair with my head ducked and fix my attention on the floor.
“It wasn’t that big of a deal,” Lyric intervenes. “It’s not like we were having sex or anything.”
“Not that big of a deal.” Mr. Scott seems irritated, which kind of surprises me.
Out of the two of them, he has always been more laid back than Lyric’s mother.
“Oh, don’t seem so shocked,” Mrs. Scott says, sounding calmer than all of them. “She’s eighteen, and her best friend’s a guy she spends every waking hour with. Sounds a little bit familiar, doesn’t it?”
“You were nineteen,” Mr. Scott argues. “And that was different. We were both more mature than her.”
“Hey,” Lyric argues, offended, “I’m mature.”
“Yeah, okay. We were so mature,” Mrs. Scott talks over Lyric, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “We never did anything reckless at all.”
&nbs
p; “Well, okay, I get your point, but still . . . You and I aren’t like our parents,” Mr. Scott replies defensively. “We have rules. We need to put those rules into play and ground her or something.”
I still haven’t looked up, my eyes trained on the floor as I wait for one of them to say something negative about Lyric being with me. But they continue on about their pasts as if they’ve forgotten about the problem and the other people in the room, listening to their every word.