Page 86 of The Lies We Steal

Surprisingly the bug queen carries herself well in her heels as she approaches us looking sour, or at least looking sour towards me.

I open my mouth, but she interrupts me,

“Briar had to stop and see her uncle, he wanted to take pictures to send to her mother. She’ll be here soon.”

The awkward silence that fills the air is enough to kill someone.Lyra and Thatcher have engaged in some weird eye contact. Neither of them speaking, just staring, waiting for the other to blink.

I almost laugh thinking about Lyra, the girl who enjoys picking up bugs and having mud on her hands, hooking up with Thatcher, one of the cleanest people I know. Obsessively clean. Clothes organized by brand, then color. Bed always made, everything has a place. Yet, they were standing here fucking with their eyes.

“Thatcher,” I cough, “this is Lyra, Lyra this is Thatcher.” I introduce the two of them sarcastically, but from the looks of it she is very aware of who he is.

“Yeah, I know who he is. I mean,” She clears her throat looking at me, “I know who you all are.”

The way she watches him, like she’s staring straight into his soul through the holes in her mask. It’s not fear, it’s…inquisitiveness that settles in her gaze. Even though she wants her distance from him, she still finds him interesting.

Which was more than most girls would have the balls to do. Our freshman year of high school, a girl ran out of the boys’ locker room naked after Thatcher pulled a knife on her while she was about to go down on him.

“Pleasure to meet you,” He chides with a smirk on his lips, reaching his hand out for hers.

“Now you’re introducing yourself? I didn’t realize introductions came after spray painting someone’s car and chasing them through the woods.”

I face the familiar voice, peering at Briar whose heels are ticking against the walkway as she makes her way towards us. Her eyes burning, teeth bared like she’s ready to rip Thatcher apart for looking in Lyra’s direction.

Even though she’s braced with aggression, looking like she’s ready to go to war against my friend, I’m taken back how graceful she looks.

My mouth waters while I follow the neckline down the front of her dress that halts right above her navel.

I shoved my hands into my pockets to prevent them from racing across her skin. Skin that looked so soft, like flower petals in the summer. I was foaming at the mouth for a taste of her.

Just one.

One agonizingly slow lick up the valley of her breasts where her skin laid exposed. Purple fabric wraps delicately around her throat exactly where my hands would rest when I was making her sweat beneath me. Her tits were barely covered with strips of material, the cool wind or maybe my gaze had tweaked her nipples making them hard for me.

Instead of the ball gown direction, she’s opted for something simple. Silk material that clung to her body, chasing the curves of her figure all the way down her body. The purple, that was more of a lilac shade, made the green in her kaleidoscopic eyes shimmer.

Blood rushes to my dick, my boxers suddenly becoming extremely tight around my groin and not because her erect nipples or pretty eyes.

No, it’s the way her small hand raises to her ear, re-tucking a few pieces of hair behind it. My tattoo caught in the light and even though it was small, the decorative font I picked matched her dress too well.

How dainty my initials looked on her body. How fucking good they looked on her finger. It only made me stiffer thinking about covering her body with my name, stamping my initials on the entirety of her skin.

I wanted to smell her. To see if she’d put on that perfume she didn’t know I liked. The one with exotic flowers and something sweet. Striding closer until I was standing directly in front of her.

The heels made her a bit taller, her head right beneath my nose. I laid my hand flat against the corner of her neck, my finger splayed across her collarbone and lower throat. My fingertips fluttered against her pulse, squeezing just enough to let her feel me.

The mask around her eyes does little to hide the way her cheeks flush at the feeling of my touch. The makeup on her face just enhancing what was already there in the first place.

A lot of girls were hot. Being hot was easy.

Not a lot of girls could wear my name the way she does.

“I like your hair like this.” I say, staring down at her feeling her heart race beneath my touch.

The honey-colored strands are all pushed to the right side of her head, falling in deep waves across her shoulder, a shiny hair piece holding it back near her left ear. I liked the way it exposed her neck to me. Slender and creamy.

She smiles, “I’ll make sure to never wear it like this again then. I think if you keep that mask on, I might just be able to get through this night without gagging.”

I grin, rolling my tongue across the bottom of my teeth, “Feeling feisty today?”

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