Learning to Forgive (The Learning Series) (20 page)

The next two weeks are pretty much a continuous cycle. I get up, eat by myself, watch TV by myself, and eat lunch and dinner by myself. I have no friends in real life, and I don’t do the whole social media crap. Well, I’ll take that back. I find Sissy. A timid basset hound that lives inside this lonely house. Since no one was around for me to ask about her, I named her Sissy because she’s scared of her own shadow. Her eyes look so sad that I can’t help but try to make her feel better. She wouldn’t come to me at first, but I started leaving table scraps on the floor while I ate. In time, I was able to rub her gently behind the ear, and now I have her sleeping in my bed with me at night. So other than Sissy entering my life, the only thing that has changed in the past two weeks is me. Physically, anyway. My lip’s healed and my eyes are no longer different colors.

I still wake at night in a cold sweat though. The nightmares are worse, and I blame it on the silence of the house and the unfamiliarity, which causes me to feel like I’m a child all over again. Seeing shadows and figures that aren’t there. But they feel real. And the fear I experience is so very real.

This morning is no different. Sitting up, I wipe the mixture of tears and perspiration from my face and forehead. After a few deep breaths, I realize where I am and stand to make my way to the bathroom. I take a hot shower and try to enjoy all the body washes that were here for me on my first day, but I can’t with the nightmare still playing in my head.

Lyric isn’t helping me anymore in my dreams. I think it’s because I haven’t seen him around much. I haven’t even seen Hyde. They’re usually off doing things that guys do when I’m awake. But I do hear them sometimes in the early mornings arguing about me being here. Actually, Hyde is doing most of the arguing. I never hear Lyric’s retort. They don’t know that I’m awake because of my ever-present nightmares. But I hear them.

I’ve explored Lyric’s home since I came here from the hospital and found the weirdest things that just don’t add up. Yes, it’s beautiful and big. And yes, it’s in a fancy gated community. But there are no pictures on the wall or personal touches other than a few guitars. Paper plates, plastic and Styrofoam cups, and plastic utensils are all there is to eat on, and I’ve only found two cooking pots. Most of the food is microwavable, so I guess it doesn’t matter. Why would someone want to live in a fancy home unless there was something of value? And what is in the third bedroom, or what I think is the third bedroom? The door has a lock that requires a key. Maybe the value is in there? Or is Lyric staying in there when he comes home?

The one thing I found that surprised me most of all is my old companion that sits polished in the formal dining area. The black grand piano was my pride and joy when I played at Jay’s with Benji, and if we had more people and instruments in the band, I would have sat behind it all the time instead of using the keyboard. Even though I discovered it two weeks ago, I haven’t touched it. I don’t know if I’m ready to just yet. This one instrument holds so many memories of good times with my brother that I know, once I open that door, something in me will break. And I’m not strong enough to break anymore.

As I step out of the bedroom, I don’t hear anyone. It’s eight in the morning, and that usually means I’m by myself for the rest of the day. After I let Sissy out the back door, I walk into the kitchen and start up the Keurig for a cup of coffee. I hum to drown out the quiet, but my voice bounces off the walls due to the vacancy of life. Taking my coffee into the living area, I’m shocked to see Lyric lying on the couch watching me. I jump, dropping my cup, which causes the hot liquid to spill all over my hands.

“Shit.” He jumps up, grabs his shirt off the couch, and wipes down my reddened skin.

The heat on my scalded hands is forgotten as a blush rushes from my toes all the way to my face. I feel only the warmness from his inked skin that covers his bare chest as he stands a few inches from me. I lick my dry lips, avert my gaze to his face, and see he’s watching me with his dark gray eyes full of secrecy.

“You okay?” he asks me.

“Um, y… yes. Sorry.” I take a breath and try to regain my wits. “I’m not used to seeing you here.”

His lip lifts on one side, and his hands are still enclosing mine. “It is my house.”

I quickly pull my hands away from his because it’s too much. My stomach does flip-flops and my heart pounds with nervousness from his close proximity. “I know. It’s just… I’m always alone. And…”

Before I can finish what I’m saying, his hand comes up and touches the fresh scar on my lower lip. “It healed nicely.” The feel of his calloused finger gently touching my skin has all thoughts leaving my brain. My eyes close and I absorb his touch while my emotions take a different turn.
What’s this feeling I’m experiencing?
I can only feel. “Do I make you nervous, Red?”

I debate on lying or telling the truth. Both have consequences, and I swore that I wouldn’t lie anymore because of all the trouble it causes. I choose to stick with the truth. “Yes,” I whisper.

He’s silent for a minute, but I still feel him there. “Do I scare you?” His breath is now fanning my face, and I know he’s close. So close. I remember the last kiss we shared, and I want to feel like that again. I want that exhilaration to come back.

“Yes.” My lips gently touch his as I speak that one syllable, and I want him to ask me something else just so it can happen once more. My body is reeling with so much responsiveness. What I feel right now with him, and how I crave that happiness, is scary, but when I lick my lips and my tongue touches his Labret piercing, all thoughts leave me.

“Good.”

“Woof… woof!”
Sissy barks at the back door and my eyes open. Lyric’s watching me, and his eyes hold a question. Or maybe a dare. I can’t be sure. All I do know is we are nose to nose, and our lips are less than a millimeter apart. But when I hear a second round of barking, I pull away. “I… I really need to let her in. She doesn’t like to be alone either.” I tuck an errant hair behind my ear and turn to go let Sissy inside. A nervous eagerness to get back to Lyric has me hurrying my steps, but when I do return to the living area, I notice he is nowhere around. Then I hear his car start up out front, so I walk to the window and watch as he pulls away.

“She drives me to my breaking point.”

~Lyric

Lyric

I ran. For the first time in my damn life, I ran like a fucking bitch. Why? That’s easy.
Red
. Even her nickname gets me stirred up. But I did the right thing. Didn’t I? Ever since I met her crazy ass all those weeks ago, she has been on my mind. She goes deeper than the ink on my skin. Everything that she is just wraps around my soul like a damn vise. And I don’t need that shit right now. I want it though.

In my mind, I see her reaction to my closeness. Her skin erupting in chills, her breath fanning my face.
Fuck!
I rear back and slam my fist on the steering wheel, trying to decide what the hell I’m going to do. All I hear though in my brain is her heavy breathing. The feel of her tongue touching my piercing is still there. The girl has put a spell on me. I’m someone who’s trained to hide his feelings, but with her, I absolutely can’t, no matter how fucking hard I try.

As I speed down the highway, I come to a rash decision that could be the death of me. Literally. But I know if I don’t do this, I’ll have never done a damn thing for myself since I was seventeen years old. I yank the emergency brake and do a reckless, illegal U-turn.

After I park, I get out and slam the door shut before running up the steps. Opening the door, I don’t see her, but I hear her. The keys to the piano in the other room play an eerie tune that reverberates in the vacant house. My steps take me to the dining room entrance and I stand there, frozen in place. The pulse of the melody is fast then slow as she allows her slender fingers to press the ivories in a tune that I’ve never heard before. Chills erupt my body, and I swear it’s as if her fingers are touching me instead of the keys. Her eyes are closed, and her head jerks as the keys are hit with forceful passion. The way she absorbs herself in the music and expresses her feelings in her actions is mesmerizing. It’s as if she’s performing in an orchestra, wearing a gown instead of black sweats and a tank top. The longer I stand there, the more jealous I become of a damn instrument.

She is so engrossed in the music, she doesn’t notice when I approach or when I’m standing behind her. My eyes focus on her pale shoulder and the pattern of freckles. A few strands of her red hair have fallen from her ponytail, touching her skin like I want to. So I allow my hand to reach out and make contact with the softest skin I’ve ever felt.

She jumps and looks up at me with wide eyes. Bending down, I whisper against the shell of her ear. “Don’t stop.” Silence encases the room with only the sound of her heavy breathing. Inside, I’m begging for her not run from me and hide. When she plays, she’s free and passionate. It feels like forever when she turns her attention back to the piano.

As her fingers press the ivories, I sweetly kiss her earlobe. Then my tongue tastes her warm, sweet skin as I work my way down to her erratic pulse. Her fingers misstep on the keys, but she recovers and continues the stimulating melody. My palms caress her shoulders and feel their way down to her wrist. I’m enjoying the tremors my touch provokes before working my way back up again and starting over. But I need more. “Do you want me to touch you, Red?”

She can only nod her head due to her breathless awareness of my presence. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to touch you? Every. Fuckin. Day. Since you walked into my life that night,” I say gruffly into her ear, and I’m rewarded with a moan. “I’ve imagined you while I fucked other girls. I dreamed it was your legs wrapped around my waist. I’ve felt your hands claw my back. Your sweet juices flowing as you squeezed my dick from within you.” I bite down on the sensitive skin between her neck and shoulder. “Now I’m tired of imagining, and I’m ready for the real thing. Are you?”

My hands go down the sides of her rib cage until they reach skin at the hemline of her shirt. Reaching around her waist, I caress her abdomen. My hands inch their way under the thin material right before her breathing hitches.

Feeling the weight of her breasts in my palms, my thumbs glide over her bra, stimulating her nipples to pucker. My dick jumps to attention and strains against my denim jeans.

I lick her from pulse to collarbone and lean over to watch my hands play with her tits under her shirt. Her taste makes my mouth water and makes me feel fucking greedy. As I squeeze their weight in my palms, she moans, and my whole body heats up. So I go further as beads of sweat start to build on my forehead and back.

My left hand works its way down her skin until I’m at her bellybutton. I stop and wait for permission to continue. I don’t want to do anything she’s not ready for. But God, I’m craving her. The breathy noise she’s making, added to the powerful music she’s creating, is causing a beast to rise in me. But this is about something more than just fucking her. This moment is about her trust. Being lost in one another’s bodies. Losing yourself fully to each other. I know I’ll never find someone that makes me feel how she does.

I bite down gently on her shoulder. “Tell me to stop. Tell me to leave and walk out that door.”

She leans her head back on my shoulder and shakes her head. “No,” she whispers huskily.

My hand continues exploring her skin and travels underneath the fabric of her black sweats. That’s when I notice she’s not wearing anything under them but soft skin. The lower I go, the more I feel as though I might explode in my jeans. When my fingers slide between her folds and become wet from her juices, I have to stop and count before it actually happens.