Scared of Forever (Scared #2) (5 page)

Spinning in the chair,
I pull her onto my lap, up to my waiting hard on. She cups my face
gently and kisses me slowly, grinding her hips into me. Purposefully.
Knowing exactly what I like.
And
suddenly I’m home
. Here I’m not Blake Carson, doctor,
polite socialite. Here I’m emancipated. Her breathing is ragged in
my ear, her thighs squeezing against mine. I grab her by the ass with
such a force that I think the chair may break. As the thrusts grow
faster, harder, she unceremoniously pulls herself off of me, shooting
me a warning glance that says,
not
yet.
She slides back on gently, eyes fixed on mine.
Minutes later, she throws her head back with a loud, satisfied moan.
Then she lets me come.

We don’t move. She
straddles me, still inside of her, and looks straight into me. No one
else in the world understands me like this.

“Evening,” she says
politely.

“Hi,” I say in
reply, still catching my breath.

“It’s been too
long,” she says, lowering her head to my shoulder.

“Two days,” I
laugh. “I saw you two days ago.”

“And that was too
long,” she says, running a finger across my new ink. The skin is
raw and tender, but her touch is soothing.

“You know I can’t
be here as much as I want to,” I say, feeling a slight pang of
guilt as I think of Emily eating dinner alone.

“I know, the
fiancée,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“You know I wish
nothing more than for that person to be you,” I say sincerely. “But
we both know the pressure I’m under. I have to get married. So here
we are.”

“Why do you have to
get married?” she asks.

I sigh, stroking her
cheek. “Because it’s what my family expects. Emily is a good
girl. She doesn’t ask questions. That’s why she is the perfect
option for me. I can keep them happy, and be in love with you. And
you have the best part of me,” I say reassuringly. I kiss her
softly. It’s not a lie.
I tell
a lot of lies, but never to her.
“I’m so lucky to have
you. You get me. No one else does. Say the word, and I’ll marry you
instead.”

“Do you love her?”

She’s never asked me
this before. “In a way,” I reply honestly. “I’m committed to
her. If this hurts you, I need you to tell me.”

“Of course it fucking
hurts,” she says softly, climbing off of me and standing against
the wall. “But it is what it is,” she replies before grabbing her
robe and walking to the bedroom. I follow her, and we talk a little
and fuck some more before I reluctantly say goodbye and leave. Since
Emily came into my life, staying the night has been difficult.

I drive home in the
dark, cold night, wondering how I let this all get so fucked up. When
I met Emily, I had planned on being with her and her alone. Little
did I know that I would never be satisfied in her arms exclusively.
Emily would never accept that there was another woman in my life. My
ex-girlfriend, Charlotte, had though. Then again, Charlotte had been
bred into a long line of snobbish undercover adulterers. It was
almost expected in her family.
So
very fucked up
. More and more each day, I find myself
falling in love with Emily. She’s so sweet and innocent, and she
loves me so much. I can see it in her eyes. I raise the Polaroid
photo of my latest tattoo up to the light. A small snake, woven
carefully into the existing tattoos on my shoulder blade.
Clever
girl, she branded me.
The thought makes me smile.

But after what happened
two years ago, where I nearly lost it all, I have to see things
through with Emily. She
has
to love me, and I
have
to love her. But above all else, my mother, Eliza Carson, has to love
her. I run my fingers through my hair in frustration.
What
a fucking ridiculous mess this is.

I
hate that Mac was right
. I hate that I got a text from
Blake saying that he would be home late. Again. I had accepted the
fact that doctors worked long hours, and as a doctor’s wife, I
would have to live with that. But I wasn’t prepared to feel this
way. I wile away the time, chatting at the beauty salon for a few
more hours. The sun has started to set over the concrete jungle that
is this city as I walk home. I open my phone and peruse the text
message from Blake for the fiftieth time.

Sorry baby, working late again, but will try to be home as soon as
I can.

It’s one that I’ve
seen a hundred times before. This time, though, this time it unnerves
me.
Stop letting Eliza Carson
and her evilness get to you!
I scold myself silently. All
of this supposition and suspicion would not exist were it not for
her. I’m playing right into her hands. Still, I can’t help but be
curious about what she said.
What
if Blake did screw around?
It’s not uncommon, especially
not around here. But as much as I try to imagine the scenario in my
head, I can’t grasp Blake, my Blake, doing that. He’s too good to
me.
Either that, or he’s a
damn good liar.

I walk past the
doorman, still lost in my own crazy musings, and step into the
waiting elevator. Just as the door is closing, a pizza delivery guy
dashes into it, very nearly barreling me over in the process.

“Sorry,” he
apologizes, smiling at me timidly with a mouth full of braces. He
hits the button for the same floor as I do, and we stand silently at
opposite ends of the elevator. It’s one of those awkward moments
where all you really want to do is avoid eye contact. The pizza boy
breathes an audible sigh of relief as the doors slide open. He walks
over to the apartment next to ours and knocks twice.

“I think you have the
wrong apartment,” I say. He turns towards me, startled. “I mean,
that apartment has been empty for a long time now. Six months at
least.”

Just as he’s about to
respond, the door to the now clearly not-so-vacant apartment swings
open. The pizza boy casts me a snide look. A guy who looks no older
than my twenty-one years steps into the hallway, wallet in hand.
There is something incredibly familiar in his face. In his smile. He
just looks…well, familiar. I pull my keys from my bag and fumble to
find the one that unlocks my door, avoiding his curious and intense
gaze. I can feel him stare at me through lowered lids, his gaze
serious.

“How much?” the guy
asks, in a pleasant tone, returning his eyes to the pizza delivery
boy. His voice sounds friendly, easygoing.

“Twenty-two,” the
pizza boy lisps. The guy gives him a fifty and tells him to keep the
change. The boy’s face lights up, and for a moment I think that he
may just kiss the guy for giving him such a monstrous tip.
Typical
of a tenant of this building.
Throwing money around is
very fashionable ‘round here.

The guy grabs the pizza
boxes, and the delivery boy practically skips back to the elevator.
My mysterious new neighbor turns to shoot me a warm and, well, quite
magnificent smile, before moving towards the inside of the apartment.

“Do you live here?”
I ask, quickly before he shuts the door. It sounds stupid as hell,
but it’s what comes out of my mouth, so I run with it.

He takes a step back
into the hallway. The guy is dressed in loose fitting jeans and a
plain white t-shirt, which offsets the color of his tanned skin,
which in turn highlights his brown and green-flecked eyes. Eyes that
sit below dangerously dark eyebrows and eyelashes. Intense.
Deep.
And a perfect set of lips, which form, as he looks towards me, a
slow-burning, brilliant grin.

“Yeah,” he says
smiling. “I travel a lot though. Tyler Carson.” He takes a step
forward and extends his hand. I shake it politely. His dark hair
falls in a shaggy cut around his face. Then there’s the chiseled
jaw. And,
oh my God
,
I’m staring.

“Carson?” I parrot
stupidly.

“Yeah, why? Have you
heard bad things around here? I swear that none of them are true,”
he laughs, placing a hand on his heart.

“No, it’s just—”
I don’t want to finish my sentence, but I have to. “My fiancée
is also a Carson.”

“The only other
Carson in this building is— Wait, are you Emily, Blake’s
fiancée?” he asks, clearly confused.

“Depends. What have
you heard?” I respond skeptically, with a small smile.

“My father only has
good things to say about you. I didn’t expect you to be so—”

“Nosy?
Inappropriate?” I interject with a smile.

“Beautiful,” he
says seriously, his gaze penetrating.

“It’s a good thing
you haven’t spoken to your mother about me then. I’m sure she has
a different opinion,” I reply sarcastically. I had only met Dr.
Carson three times since Blake and I began dating. He was seldom
around, but after meeting Eliza Carson, I understood why. “Why has
she or Blake never mentioned you?” I realize how rude that sounded
the minute it leaves my mouth.

Tyler doesn’t take
offense and throws his head back with a laugh. “I’m not on the
best of terms with either of them. Is my brother home?”

I shake my head slowly.
“He’s working late.”
Wow.
Verbalized, that sounds even worse than it did in my head. It sounds
like the mantra of a million wives with legitimate reasons to
distrust their adulterous husbands.

“Hey, wanna come in
for some pizza? I bought two, primarily because the only food I’ve
eaten in the last forty-eight hours was on an airplane and came
wrapped in tin foil.” Tyler shoots me a dazzling smile, and his
left cheek produces the most perfectly placed dimple I had ever seen
in real life.

I’m just about to
politely decline his offer, when my stomach answers for me, in the
form of a loud rumble. I grin sheepishly.

“I’ll take that as
a ‘yes,’” Tyler says, stepping aside and grandly ushering me
into the door of his apartment.

I expected a carbon
copy of our apartment, with its polished stainless steel and modern,
angular furniture. But Tyler’s apartment is nothing like ours. The
entire kitchen is made from an ashy-colored beech wood. A series of
mismatched chairs are placed around a 1950’s style dining table.
Everything in here looks like it came from a salvage yard or a thrift
shop, but in a well thought out and artsy kind of way. The only
things that look new are the huge, framed projector screen against
the far wall, the treadmill in the corner, and two large pod-like
chairs, suspended from the ceiling by large brackets and thick
chains. I instantly decide that the chairs are my favorite things in
here, because they are place directly in front of the
floor-to-ceiling windows that flank one entire side of the room.

Tyler puts the pizza
down on the breakfast bar and walks over to grab some plates. Walking
back, he nods towards my feet. “Aren’t those things hurting you?
Take them off, get comfortable,” he says, looking at my kitten
heels.
God forbid!
I
better make sure he never sees me in my double platforms with their
six-inch heels.
He just might
call 911!

I turn towards the door
and stop dead in my tracks. The whole back wall, with the exception
of the doors, has been covered in six by nine inch photos. I walk
closer, in absolute awe. Some of the shots are of sunsets, others,
tall buildings shot at impossible angles, and there are even some
candid shots of people, landmarks, and interesting things.

“Wow,” I breathe.

“I take it you like
my work?” Tyler asks, handing me a plate.

“You’re a
photographer, I’m guessing. Either that, or a professional
traveler,” I say. With the amount of wealth that the Carson family
possesses, I’m quite sure one of their sons could live off of them
forever, travelling the world. Or possibly both.

“Very perceptive,”
he says with raised eyebrows and a grin. “I’m a travel
photographer.”

“The horror,” I
tease. “A Carson man who is not a doctor!”

“That’s me, Tyler
Carson. Otherwise known to my mother as the rebellious son,” he
jibes back effortlessly.

Tyler and I sit in the
pod chairs and stare out at the neon landscape that is New York City,
demolishing both pizzas in the process. As the sun sets over the
horizon, darkening the room, Tyler walks over to a large seventeenth
century-style street lamp and stretches up to flick it on. I’m lost
for a brief moment as his t-shirt rides up to reveal the bottom row
of a delicious looking set of abs. The thin cotton of his sleeve
strains under the flex of his bicep.
Stop
that! This is Blake’s brother,
I scold myself.

A million questions
plague me.
Why has Blake never
mentioned Tyler? Or Eliza, for that matter? Why don’t any of them
talk anymore? Would Blake approve of me sitting alone in his
brother’s apartment, barefooted and eating pizza?