Page 53 of Under My Skin
My lips settle into a frown, but I don’t say anything. I wait, giving him the chance to elaborate if he wants to.
Eventually, he rubs a hand over his forehead. “I’m sorry. I might have forgotten I told you to come here.”
I blink. “Oh.” Sitting up straight, I say, “I can go if?—”
Everett’s eyes widen. “No, that’s not what I meant. I’m glad you’re here. I just wish you didn’t have to see me like this.” He looks around with bitter amusement. “Drinking alone in the dark.”
Reaching into the six pack, I take out another bottle, gently setting it in front of me. Leaning forward, I reach across him for the bottle opener. His breath catches, and it’s then that I realizehow close we are. My eyes flick up to meet his, but his are trained on my mouth. As soon as he catches me staring, his focus jumps up to meet my gaze, and he swallows.
I apologize for invading his space and snatch the opener off the ground next to him. Then, sitting back on my heels, I open another one and hand it to him. “For the record, I don’t mind seeing you like this, and now you’re not drinking alone.”
I hold up my beer for him to tap with his own, and he does with a tight-lipped smile. “Thanks.”
He doesn’t take a sip right away. His thumb brushes over the mouth of the bottle as he stares down at it. “I need to go over there more. I should have been checking on things every week.” He shakes his head. “I can’t believe I let it get so bad.”
“You’ve been grieving, too,” I remind him, my voice soft.
“Yeah, but grief doesn’t give me a free pass for being a shitty son.” He sets the bottle next to him without taking a sip and rubs his hands over his face. “And then she’s sitting there telling me I’m a good person and how proud my dad would be.” Lowering his hands, he scoffs. “He wouldn’t be proud. He’d be pissed.”
My head tilts, my frown deepening. “Why do you think that?”
He hesitates, and his eyes search my face like he just realized how much he’s sharing and isn’t sure if he wants to continue. “Because I’m being selfish.” His eyes fall to my mouth again, but only for a second before he says, “Lately, it feels like everything I want comes at a cost to someone else.”
We lock eyes, and I get the feeling he isn’t referring to his mom’s house anymore. “You’re just trying your best to heal. I don’t think that’s selfish, and it sounds like your mom doesn’t think you are either. She told you that you’re a good person because youare,and maybe she knew you needed to hear it.”
His eyebrows crease slightly like he isn’t sure if he wants to believe me, and it breaks my heart. I want to give him a hug, but it would be a little hard to do with both of us sitting on the ground,so instead, I lean forward with my hands on my knees and kiss him on the cheek.
As soon as my lips touch his skin, his hand reflexively wraps around my arm just above my elbow. At first, I think he does it to stop me, but he doesn’t push me away. He just holds my arm where it is.
Keeping my face close to his, I quietly say, “You’re a good person, Everett Meyers.” I kiss him again on the cheek and move to lean back on my heels.
He doesn’t let go of my arm. If anything, his grip slightly tightens, and his voice comes out rough and strained when he says, “Please, don’t stop.”
I freeze, unsure of what he means. Slowly leaning forward again, I press my lips to his other cheek, letting them linger before pressing them to the line of his jaw.
His thumb lightly brushes my arm, and that slight graze fuels me to press one final kiss to the side of his neck.
His breath catches, and his head falls back against the wall. When I do finally pull away from him, I slowly sit back on my heels, and he releases my arm, his fingers trailing across my skin as he does.
His eyes search mine, but before I have time to wonder if what just happened was okay, he reaches for the back of my head and crashes his lips against mine. The kiss is hungry. It’s not slow or hesitant like he isn’t sure if this is what he wants. It’s a kiss of a man who’s been starved. His fingers curl into my hair, loosening my ponytail as he pulls me in deeper, and the sound that comes from my throat brings a wave of heat to my cheeks. I’ve never been kissed like this. There’s never been so much want—so muchneed—behind a kiss I’ve shared with anyone else.
Kissing him back, I tease my tongue against his, and the groan it pulls from him has a heavy heat settling between my legs. He holds my face in both hands, claiming my mouth with his tongue, and pulling a desperate whimper from me.
With one more dizzying drag of his tongue over mine, he gently brushes my cheeks with his thumbs, his kisses turning soft and lingering. I melt, and when he finally pulls back, he keeps his hands gently cradling either side of my face.
I take him in, and he looks lighter than he did a few minutes ago. That playful brightness has returned to his eyes, and some of that comfortable warmth I’ve grown to love seems to have thawed the tension in his shoulders. “Feeling better?” I ask with a light laugh.
There’s a hint of pink in his cheeks as he scratches the side of his head. With a huff of laughter, he says, “Yeah. Much better, actually.”
Chapter Thirty
EVERETT
A smile lingerson Lucy’s lips, and it takes everything in me not to taste them again. She readjusts her ponytail. “Well, just let me know whenever you need another pick me up.”
The only thing stopping me from taking her up on that deal now is the invasive thought that she’s not mine to kiss. She’s Simon’s sister, and as good as that just felt, I’ve crossed some sort of invisible line. I groan, and my head falls back against the wall. “Your brother’s going to kill me.”
Her nose scrunches, and I try not to dwell on how cute it is. “Why would he care?”
