Page 62 of Little Liar
And I belong to Malachi Vize.
I’m not sure how this will work. We have so many hurdles to get over. I want it to work though. I love my brother, and he loves me—that won’t ever change.
I blink, staring at myself in the mirror. I should stop calling him that too. We aren’t siblings anymore. We’re boyfriend and girlfriend. I know he likes it though, and a depraved part ofme does too. Does that make us sick to crave such a taboo and forbidden connection?
When he’s inside me, and I call his name, he groans and fucks me faster, but when I call him my big brother? He grows within me, thicker, longer, pulsing against my sweet spot while we both find our release.
I’ll need to try and explain everything to Abigail and Anna. I’ve gone into an antisocial bubble ever since I ran from my wedding. Anna told me to keep her updated on everything. I sent Abbi a text saying I was fine, and she told me she was going to punch Xander’s big brother.
Apparently, after I ran from the church, his brother and Abbi argued—he told her he was going to kill her, and she slapped him and told him to go fuck himself.
I’m not sure what happened after. Her details are a little vague, and her story has changed three times. She’s also now chanting the tune of celibacy. She went on about it for nearly an hour—something about swearing off men forever and becoming increasingly violent with her words before Malachi grabbed the phone and hung up on her.
I try to turn and look at Malachi, but he’s too tangled around me. He’s always attached to me in some way. If I’m cooking us some food, he’s behind me. If I’m in the shower, he’s either in with me or sitting on the sink counter. If I’m trying to tidy up, he’s helping or forcing me to sit down so he can do it properly.
Ever since I told him I had to go back to work, he’s been clingier than ever, as if I’m not going to come back here. I am. I will. I just feel like we need to pump the brakes and slow down, but he’s in total refusal.
It hurts me, but I’m also happy. We could hide in this little home for years and I’d be happy, but there would always be the outside. The place that won’t accept us. Society. Parents. Thefiancé who’ll hopefully give up and move on to the next person on his list.
“If our mom and dad came to see us, would you get all angry and aggressive?” Another beat of silence, and I sigh. “You need to accept them if you want them to accept us.”
“They hate me,” he says quietly, slowly, so carefully I know the words hurt him to admit. His pronunciation is still off, but I can understand most of what he’s saying. “Nothing I say will ch-change that.”
The corner of my mouth tugs because he has no idea Dad has been tracking him since he was released from prison, making sure he’s okay, ensuring Mom gave him enough money to survive until he figured out what to do with his life.
They’ve loved him from afar. Despite everything, they still raised Malachi since he was eight years old. They still took him under their roof, loved him, made everyone around them learn sign language, and ensured they had him placed in a school that could accommodate his needs.
Everything he ever needed, they gave him. They care about him.
Well, I’d like to think they still care. No one can go that long seeing someone as their child, only to throw them away so easily. Dad tried to visit, but Malachi refused. If I’m correct, Dad paid a prison guard to give him weekly updates on his son and made sure the therapist that visited him was one of the best around town. As a criminal defense attorney, or an ex one, he has a lot of influence given the clients he’s had in his career.
I guess it helps to know people in power. Mom being a judge definitely helps.
“Will you drive me to work before you go to your appointment?”
He nods against me. I glance over my shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to his lips when I see the look in his eyes.
Like he’s about to lose me.
I chance my luck once more by sucking in a deep breath and turning in his arms, hugging his hips with my thighs. I smile, tilting my head to the side as he narrows his gaze.
“Don’t,” he warns.
“Ask me on a date,” I say, ignoring him, pleading with my eyes. “Wine and dine me and treat me like a princess before dropping me off at my apartment. You can kiss me against the door until we’re breathless.”
His nostrils flare, his eyes darkening, and I shriek as he flips us over, placing me on my back. “No,” he says, smashing his lips down on mine, capturing my bottom lip between his teeth and nipping.
I gasp as he shoves his hand into the front of my shorts and cups my pussy with firm fingers, digging against my entrance with the barrier of my panties while my bottom lip is trapped between his teeth.
He releases it with a snap. “Stop asking.”
17
Olivia
My phone dings while I reply to an email about a court hearing for a new adoption. I’m so badly behind, Mom had to ask her other assistant to take some of my workload before she went into her meeting. I’m waiting patiently for her to come for me.
She’ll yell. I don’t doubt that at all.
