Wasted Heart (27 page)

“Rhye, it’s the biggest award show for us. We can’t just wing it,” she says, shaking her head in disgust.

I see the worry deep in her eyes, and I want to assure her that it will be okay. Putting my arm around her shoulders, I pull her close to me. “You will do just fine on your own, Syn. Don’t worry about it. It will work out. We will kickass and take names.”

“I love you, Rhye Clark,” she says in that country twang of hers before reaching up to caress the side of my cheek.

“I want you, Syn Landry,” I reply back, touching her the same way.

“You’re a big old tease.”

“It’s my evil plan. It’s not for you to understand,” I reply, letting the words go, not ready to give her what she needs back yet.

The car pulls in front of the hotel, and I open the door, reaching back to help her out. More camera lights brightly flash as we ignore the calls and questions surrounding us. When we finally make it into the elevator, Syn glances up to me in total shock.

“This is getting crazy, Rhye. What do they expect us to do?” she says, shaking her head.

“Those fuckers get on my last nerve. I lose my shit on a daily basis at some of the things they say,” I reply, rubbing her arms with my hands.

“I try not to listen to them, but lately, they’re everywhere I go. Sometimes they…,” she starts, but stops and turns away from me.

“They what?” I ask, watching her step out of the elevator as soon as the doors slide open, still not answering me.

Walking to the door, she turns to me, her face pale and those yellow eyes occupied with sorrow. Slowly, I walk up to her, standing mere inches away. What has fucking suddenly changed between us?

“They say what, Syn?” I ask her, fucking pissed at her hesitance to answer me.

She swallows, looking down and then back up to me. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter. I trust you. I do.”

“Wait. What the fuck, Syn? You can’t say you trust me out of the blue and not tell me why you felt the need to even say it out loud. Unless you’re indirectly questioning me?” I ask.

“Can we go inside? Please,” she says, looking around at the empty hallway.

Nodding my head, I reach for the card to slide it in the reader and open the door. I breathe slowly in and out, wondering what the hell is happening. She walks in, and I follow, only allowing her to get so far before grabbing her hand and yanking her back to me. She comes flush up against my chest with her hand pressed to my beating heart, the place she found her way into.

“Talk to me, Syn. You have to tell me what’s going through that mind of yours.”

With a long sigh, she says, “They tell me where you go and what you do. Sometimes they send me pictures of you hanging out in different clubs. I don’t expect you to stay at home every night. I would never ask you to do that. It’s just… I don’t know what I’m supposed to say back to them.”

“Tell them to fuck off! That’s what you say. It’s none of their goddamn business in the first place. Syn, I haven’t done anything for you to warrant not trusting me yet.”

She rolls her eyes while stepping back to place her hands on her hips. Her total demeanor changes in an instant. Oh, shit. Here it comes.

“Yet? What is that supposed to mean?”

Laying my head back to look up at the ceiling, I roll my neck then look over at her. “Yet. I’ve told you from the start that this is my life. I’ve stayed clean and kept my cranky cock, from lack of use, in my pants because I want to be with only you. I don’t see that changing anytime soon, but I am not going to make you hollow promises that don’t mean shit. I know they don’t have pictures of me banging some random chick or smoking anything illegal, so what do you want me to say? Tell me, Syn? Because I really am trying not to fuck this up with you, and it’s hard,” I tell her, laying it all on the line.

Her eyes well up with tears, and she blinks through the wetness. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m fighting every second for us. Some days, it’s two in the morning before you get a chance to phone me with the time difference, and I wait with bated breath for that call. We don’t lead normal lives, so I know nothing about us will ever be easy, but I guess I didn’t expect it to be so hard. It’s like everyone is against us.”

Every single word she is saying is making me insanely crazy. From the beginning, I have told her to not listen to or read anything in the press. If she does, and questions anything, then she needs to bring it to me, and I will fucking answer honestly. I’ve never offered anything less than the truth to her. If she asked me right now, at this moment, if I missed the snatch, I would answer truthfully, “yes.” What more can she want from me?

“You wanted this, Syn. You asked for me. All of me,” I tell her, my demons rearing their ugly heads. “Fuck this.” I turn, letting her go so I can leave. My head is going to a horrid place, and I don’t want to say things just to hurt her.

“Where are you going, Rhye?” she asks, chasing after me, reaching out to grab my hand. “Please stop. I’m sorry.”

Goddamn it! I turn to pin her lithe body up against the wall, my hands holding her wrists by her sides. My knee automatically slides in between her thighs while my mouth punishes hers. Moments pass by in a passion-induced hysteria, not knowing whether I can handle these feelings I have for her. I pull back for a second to catch my breath and whisper, “Don’t ever be fucking sorry. Do you hear me?”

Her swollen, used lips call to something inside of me. My tongue lashes out to wet them, and her whimper of lust ignites the fires within me. I burn for this girl, like no other.

“I hate hurting you, Syn. I don’t know how to be what you want. What you need. Help me. Just help me, okay?” I beg her. I’ve never begged anyone before, but if I can’t give her the words she needs, I’ll give her what I can. Me.

Reaching down, I slip my hands underneath her knees, cradling her up in my arms. She gives a yelp of surprise before I capture her lips between mine. I need her to make me sane. What if she can’t handle the speculation of the press? The lies that they descriptively depict? The photos that insinuate false images? The truth that I might not be able to hide? I need to know what she is thinking so I can fight the insecurities we both have.

I carry her down the hallway and into my room, stumbling only once, my suave move impeded by a pair of my shoes left carelessly on the floor. She laughs. Gently taking care of this precious cargo I hold in my arms, I place her on top of my bed, following her down.

She is the closest to peace that I can obtain in this lifetime. Closing my eyes tight, I pour my consuming need for her into a kiss, praying that she can forgive me for not being something I can’t. Hoping that she can quit being sorry for something she can’t fix. Not a day goes by that I don’t think how much of a bastard I am for not letting her go; however, I’m in too deep. If I let her go now, I don’t think I can come back.

“Rhye. I need you. Please. Please, don’t stop,” she pleads, rolling me to the side and sitting up. She pulls at my shirt, stripping it off in one swoop. Her eager hands move to my jeans, quickly divesting me of them.

“Commando. Oh, yeah,” she pants, breathing heavy. Glancing into my eyes, she smiles, once again smashing my fucking world to smithereens with her love. It’s heady to know someone like her could care about someone like me. I don’t understand it.

She reaches for my hands, linking our fingers and gently squeezing. “I love you.” She leans down to rain kisses over my face. Sitting up, she pulls her dress over her head, turning to kick off her shoes. Her lily white panties and bra strike me as virginal. Fuck. It slips back into my head at the most inopportune times.

“Syn, we need to slow…,” I get out before she reaches her hand down to grasp me.
“Damn, that feels good,”
I think to myself. Her up and down movements are just the right grip and speed, wiping my thoughts blank.

I lean my head back against the bed, closing my eyes. I let her have complete control for now, needing to concede it to her. My hips pump up into her greedy hands. Need builds inside my body, from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, steadily increasing until it pulsates and screams for release. The feel of her wet tongue, licking the tip, elicits a moan of pleasure. Goddamn, that feels like the shit. “Fuck yeah, Syn. Please don’t stop.”

She sucks me gently, fumbling with some of her movements, but it feels too good to complain. I glance to see that beautiful blonde hair bobbing up and down with her actions. My dick swells even harder, which I didn’t think was humanly possible. I’m close to spilling cum down her throat, and I don’t want it to end yet. Not like this.

Reaching for her shoulders, I push her gently back, bringing myself to cover her. I kiss her, trying my damnedest, to make her feel what I’m feeling. Bringing my hand up, I touch the side of her face, slowly lowering it to the latch on the front of her bra, undoing it. Her chest swiftly rises and falls underneath my fingers, and my body trembles with need for her. She leans up to kiss my lips, grinning at the same time.

“I’m yours, and you are mine,” she whispers, staring into my eyes.

I want to breathe her goodness in and keep it inside of me. Maybe it can fix what is broken before I lose her. The thought drives me to desperation. I grasp her delicate panties between my nimble fingers and tug downwards, stripping them from her.

My body vibrates with all-encompassing lust. I have to have her. Own her. Use her. Slipping one finger into her warm, wet center, I gently stroke, making her ready for me. A pounding need inside of my head keeps rhythm with the heart that beats only for her, driving me to the only completion that matters anymore.

Her eyes stare up at me with intense pleasure at my touch. She pants and releases, the tiny sounds that keep me right on the edge of sanity. I know that I’m about to fucking lose it. Hell, I’m already lost. Thoughts spiral and rage in my mind, but a miniscule voice finds its way through, telling me to slow down.

“Don’t you dare stop,” she states, reading my mind.

I have one last sane thought of why I shouldn’t do this. Take this from her when I’m not deserving of it. But sanity has never been my strong suit. I have to have Syn. End of complete thoughts. Raising on my knees, I carefully move over her, spreading her soft, silky thighs to place myself between them. I gently move lower until my chest is pressed against hers.

“I can’t,” I whisper back, fitting myself inside her and gliding in. She closes her eyes tight, seeming to brace herself, but I push on. Everything is happening so fast, and my mind is spinning out of control at the remarkable feeling of being inside Syn. It’s like…It’s like nothing or no one could ever compare to this. To her.

Within minutes, I feel her tightly constrict around me, and precious moans of pleasure escape her. Her tiny shivers stoke my lust to an almost intolerable degree. Fuck. I can’t hold on for much longer. Letting it all go, I come inside her, pouring myself deep with each stroke of my cock, her muscles clenching down to grasp me until I finally collapse on top of her.

“I love you,” she breathlessly chants in my ear.

I roll to my side and gently bring her with me, cradling her in my arms. My heart warms at her words, but the reply that she deserves and needs refuses to form on my lips. In my mind, her words start to twist, intertwining with the darkness, the meaning now distorted. The feeling in my heart quickly evaporates, leaving me achingly empty, my demons denying me the sweetness of Syn. I was afraid of this. It should mean something more to me than just an ordinary fuck, but as I feared, something is seriously fucked up inside of me. Closing my eyes, I fake sleep, hating myself and the tears that gather behind my eyelids.

Glancing into the mirror one last time, I turn away and roll my eyes at the discarded dresses laying haphazardly on the bed. It’s the pre-Grammy party tonight, and all my luggage finally arrived, forcing last minute decisions regarding what to wear. The amazing dress that I have for the awards show tomorrow night is already decided on; it’s just all these other party dresses that are last minute decisions, depending on what I ate and if they still fit.

In the midst of this dilemma, I’m still processing that I made love with Rhye for the first time this afternoon. I close my eyes to remember every single caress and every heart-stopping kiss. My virginity is only a sweet memory, and I am happy that I shared it with him. It was everything and more than I could have ever dreamed. He’s all I want. All I need. I would give up my current life just to have him. I love him that much. His touch was amazing, and even now, my body burns for him. The thought of leaving him again in two, short days paralyzes me with fear.

As we laid in bed earlier, we snuggled deep underneath the covers, holding on to one another. He seemed to even fall asleep next to me, but the peacefulness didn’t last for long because Rhye had a freak out moment when he realized he didn’t use a condom. I did also, but not because of pregnancy, explaining to him that I’ve been getting precautionary birth control injections for the last year. I’m entirely sure that I’ve already told him this, but he swore I had not. Either way, I really did plan on still using a condom with Rhye for so many reasons, but the main being his drug history and previous bed partners. He said that he’s clean, having been checked several times, but it’s done. I never thought I could get so swept up in passion that I would forget something so important, but there you have it.