Page 92 of Between Hate and Desire

I can’t say with certainty if Brandon would ever approve of a relationship between Lennon and me, but I’d like to think he’d trust me enough to care for her and their child. I’d never hurt her. Keeping his memory alive is something I vow to always do. I miss him so much sometimes it chokes me alive.

Once I’m in bed, I stare at the ceiling and think about that kiss. Fake or not, it felt every bit real to me. Her breasts pushed into my chest, back arched to deepen it, and then she moaned.

Fucking hell, that moan.

My cock gets hard just thinking about it.

Because I’m a glutton for punishment, I lower my hand into my shorts and stroke my dick. The cold shower did nothing to subside my hard-on, and I relive the way she responded to me. I think about how things have shifted between us, how close we’ve gotten, and how comfortable we are together. Lennon makes me feel safe talking to her about things I keep inside. She’s managed to do something no one else ever has, and I doubt I’ll ever feel this way about anyone else again.

My cock grows harder, my fist squeezing tighter as I increase the pace. Lennon is all I can focus on—her sweet face, luscious tits, contagious laugh. Fuck, she’s the full package. Always has been.

Grunting, I slide my fist over the tip, again and again until I’m coming, hard and fast. I release a harsh breath between gritted teeth, hoping she can’t hear me in the next room, but shit that was intense. I use my shirt to clean myself off, then grab a new one, feeling temporary relief.

Over the past few months, I’ve jerked off as much as I did when I was a teenager, but having Lennon this close to me every single day makes me edgy. I have no desire to go out on the weekends or find someone else. The mere thought of it has me laughing at myself. All those times I teased Brandon for being pussy whipped, and here I am, whipped without the pussy.

Lennon invades every part of me, more than ever before, and after tasting her lips, I’m worried I’ll lose my self-control. Though I can’t. Things can’t escalate, no matter how badly I want it. Lennon needs a friend, someone she can trust and rely on.

Not to mention, I’d forever live with the remorse of betraying my best friend. Though there’s one secret of his I plan to take to the grave. I can’t lie to Lennon, not if I want to stay in her life, but it’s one thing I promised Brandon. He’s no longer here to propose, and I don’t know if knowing would hurt her worse or give her closure. She’s in better spirits from a few weeks ago even though I know she’s still grieving. With that, we’re now going to pretend to be married, so how in the hell do I mention Brandon bought her an engagement ring and was ready to ask her to be his wife on this very trip?

Hell, if I knew, then I’d know what to do with the damn ring that burns a hole in my nightstand.

Ever since I found the ring in their bedroom, I’ve gone back and forth on what to do with it. Give it to his mother? Let her decide? Keep it for when Lennon’s ready to know, if she’ll ever be ready to know. I hate that I’m left to make this decision when either one could hurt her, or worse—have her running from me.

Each night over the past week, I’ve dreamed of Lennon and our fake marriage. It feels so fucking real, I forget it’s not. She looks at me as if I’m the only man in the room, and then as soon as I touch her, Brandon’s face appears. Every damn time, I wake up gasping, ready to take a beating from him because that’s what I deserve.

I’m so fucked.

Battling my emotions has been the hardest part of this arrangement. I didn’t even take a second to think about how this plan would affect me before blurting it out, but I don’t regret it. I’d do it over and over again if it meant keeping her happy and stress-free.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” I greet as soon as I hear Lennon’s feet pad into the kitchen. I love being able to sleep in a little on Saturdays, but it’s never much. After I start a pot of coffee, I make breakfast, knowing Lennon needs food to fully wake up.

“Ugh.” She leans against the counter, her blond hair a mess on top of her head. She looks freaking adorable.

“Rough night?” I arch a brow, glancing over my shoulder as I cook an omelet on the stove. “Looks like you got into a fight with a toaster in the shower.” I smirk when she glares.

“It’s not fair that you literally wake up like that…” She waves her arm up and down, motioning to my body.

I chuckle. “It’s a curse.”

Lennon snorts, moving around me to reach the fridge. “I had a hard time falling asleep. My nerves are shot, not to mention it’s getting uncomfortable to sleep. My boobs are annoying and sensitive, and I feel like a beached whale.”

I shoot her a look, linger over her breasts, then move my gaze down to her belly. “You have the tiniest bump.”

She takes the jug of orange juice and slams the door shut. “Well, it doesn’t feel tiny when I’m trying to sleep.”

Her death cracks me up.

“I heard a body pillow can help during pregnancy. Want me to find you one?” I ask casually, expecting to catch heat for reading up on this kind of shit.

“I was thinking about getting one.” She pours juice in a cup, then takes a long sip. “Wait. How do you know about those?” She pauses, then continues before I can respond. “Never mind. I should know the answer to that one.” Lennon laughs, then gives me an appreciative smile.

“I like reading up on stuff so I have more knowledge about what you’re going through. You know I’m not going anywhere, so I want to educate myself.” I flip the omelet once more.

“Well, it is your apartment, so it’s not like you’d leave anyway.” Lennon takes a seat at the table, and I shoot her a glare before turning off the stove.

“Yours too since your name’s on the lease,” I mutter softly, grabbing two plates from the cabinet.

“What?” she asks loudly.

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