Entice (Hearts of Stone #2) (27 page)

"No, Leo is. He won't even tell me where we're going."

I stop chewing to stare at her. To anyone who doesn't know my sister, this statement would hold no weight. But I happen to know Lex doesn't just take the backseat when it comes to
anything.

"Seriously?" I ask her. "You're just letting him take the wheel?"

Leo glances over his shoulder at us and he and Lex share a knowing glance. Being around them makes me realize how much can be said without the need for words. Lex and Leo have entire conversations with simple glances, fleeting touches, slight smiles.

"Why not?" Lex says, sounding uncharacteristically laid back. "It'd be fun to be surprised."

"Right," I say sarcastically. "You've
always
loved surprises."
 

"I'm starting to warm up to them. I guess I have no choice, if I'm going to date this guy."

The word
date
almost makes me laugh. Is that what they are doing? Dating? Seems like much more than that to me. I stare down at my fingers where I'm fiddling with the gum wrapper, folding it and unfolding it.

"What's up with you?" Lex asks, grabbing a plate of food from Leo and moving over to the dining room table behind us.

I take the plate he hands me, where a beautifully browned chicken breast lays, topped with herbs and complemented by bacon-wrapped asparagus and white rice. "You know what, Leo?" I say to him as I settle down at the table beside Lex. "I think I'm finally starting to get what my sister sees in you."
 

"Be nice," Lex warns as Leo opens his mouth to retort. His lips twist up into a smile and he bows his head as though yielding to his queen.

He doesn't sit on the other side of Lex like I expect him to, instead settling down in the seat across from us. It's clear he does it so Lex and I are paired, and I don't feel like the third wheel.

"Answer my question," Lex nudges non-too subtly.

I start cutting the meat on my plate into bite size pieces. "What do you mean?"

"What's up with you? You're all…fidgety."

Leo gets to his feet and asks, "You want a drink?"
 

 
"
No.
" My response is too quick, too sharp, and too defensive.
 

Both Leo and Lex go still and share a brief look. Embarrassment floods me as I realize Leo asked out of courtesy because we don't yet have anything to drink on the table, and not—as I instantly assumed—as an intentional jab at Owen's insinuations about my drinking problems.
 

"Sorry," I say, awkwardly, avoiding their eyes to place the napkin over my lap. "I'll have some water, please."

Leo walks off to the kitchen and I'm left with no alternative but to look up and meet my sister's analyzing gaze.
 

Lex lowers her voice to a whisper, "Do you want to go into the other room so you can tell me what the hell is going on with you?"

"No, it's fine."

"You need to start talking, Emily."

A brief moment passes where I contemplate if I have a choice in the matter. But I don't, my sister is a hound dog that's caught the scent of a problem. She won't let loose until I tell her.
 

"Owen and I are fighting."

"What's going on?" Lex leans in to place her hand on my knee.
 

"We're not seeing eye-to-eye on some things. Plus…he has his hands full with his son. And then there's his schedule. We just can't seem to get enough time together to say what we need to say."

"I get it. It's hard enough to get on the same page with someone, let alone reconciling a kid and a demanding job as well."

"I thought he'd be good for you," Leo says, coming up behind me to set a glass of water beside my plate. "Thought maybe he'd make an honest woman out of you. Or at the very least rein in your crazy."

"My crazy doesn't need reining in, thank you very much," I tell him, though I'm not sure he even hears me.
 

Leo slips his arms around Lex's chair to set a glass of orange juice in front of her. She tilts her head back and he kisses her forehead, as though it's something he can't help but do.

Watching their interactions is like being on an alien planet for me. I always thought people in love were idiots. Their cloudy, awestruck expressions. But seeing my sister in love really shifts my perspective. This wasn't how Lex was with her ex-husband. With her ex, Lex never really let her guard down. The energy between them was a constant tug of war between two people trying to get their way. Each word he spoke seemed double-edged; each response Lex gave was measured and pointed.
 

But with Leo, Lex is visibly resigned. Visibly relaxed. Visibly…Lex. That's it. I haven't been able to put my finger on it until just now. Leo took crazy leaps to pry off her armor, to secure a future with her, and now, he nourishes what's underneath and she lets him. Lex is letting someone in for the first time, all the way.
 

After lunch, Lex pulls me into the guest room under the pretense of showing me something she purchased. But I can tell by the sideways glance Leo shoots her that it's about something else altogether.

"Close the door," she says as she walks up to the dresser.

I do so and when I turn back to face my sister, my heart lodges in my throat. She's holding a nearly empty bottle of vodka. For one wild minute, I think it's the same bottle that sat on my counter just a few hours ago. But it's not. There's been more than one bottle over the past two months.

"Emily, I found this under the sink."

"Yeah," I say. "I put it there."

"I gathered as much." Lex stares at me as if she expected me to deny it. "But what I want to know is why?"

I shift my footing, my fingers fidgeting over themselves. "You were keeping tabs on it when I was staying with you. Kept bringing it up. I didn't want you worrying for no reason."

"That doesn't make sense."

"This conversation doesn't make sense, Lex," I say, throwing my hands up. "What's your point?"

Lex lowers the bottle to her side, her face falling somewhat. "Emily, are you having issues? With…alcohol?"

My first instinct is to yell back, '
No!'
but the word lodges in my throat. I shake my head and even as I do so, it feels like a lie. "I don't—No, I don't."

"I'm worried you do." My sister's eyes flicker downward then back to my face. "I don't know what things were like in San Francisco, but ever since you've been back, I've noticed you were waking up every morning, hung over. Taking aspirin, needing to sleep in. Every night, another glass in the sink reeking of alcohol."

"That's not true. I don't drink every night."

"Nearly every night, Emily. Come on. Too often and you know it." Lex inches closer and it's as if I grow smaller with every step she takes. "Just tell me. What's going on with you?"

"Jesus," I snap, "I can't believe I'm having this conversation with you, Lex. Really? Are you going to ask me if I'm on drugs, next?"

I'm furious in a way I don't quite understand as I storm into the living room and grab my purse from the armchair. Leo looks up at me from the couch as Lex follows behind.
 

"Thanks for lunch," I say to him, glancing his way just long enough to register his small, noncommittal nod before I storm away.

"Emily!" my sister calls out.

I turn at the door. "Lex, just lay off, okay? I'll call you tomorrow."

She presses her lips together, holding back whatever it was she wanted to say. I walk outside, hoping the outside air can dilute this toxic anger because I'm barely able to breathe with it seeping out of my pores.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Back in the loft, I lie in bed staring at the screen of my phone. I'm battling the urge to call Owen. Pushing back the need to hear his voice. I'm not even angry anymore. I'm just sad. I want him beside me.

The time displayed on the screen is obscured by an incoming phone call.

Owen, pulled by my thoughts.
 

The sound of the phone ringing cuts off to silence, then his voice is in my ear. "Hey."

I let it wash over me, hearing him is like taking in a breath of air.
 

"Hey," I say.
 

Every crackle of static over the phone intensifies the strain between us.

"Are you home?"

"I am."

"Good. I'm outside."

My breath catches in my chest. I hang up the phone and stand, motionless in my room as nerves wrench my stomach.

When I open the front door, he's there on the landing, looking so defeated and deflated it tears my heart in two.

"I hate this," he says, "I hate fighting with you."

"I hate it, too."

The space between us feels like miles until his hand comes up to stroke my cheek, so tender. The hairs on my arms prickle awake as I lean into his touch, taking a step toward him. He wraps a hand around my waist and pulls me closer, resting his forehead against mine.

His touch strikes the flammable surface of our desire. His lips are on mine before I can take another breath.
 

We kiss away our frustrations. The door slams shut behind him as he guides me backward into my living room. Until I take the lead and nudge him down onto my couch. He sits back, looking up at me, eyes hooded by the need burning behind them.
 

"Emily," he starts, half-heartedly.

In his tone, I hear the weight of everything we need to say to each other. But I shake my head.
 

Let it hang overhead; let it wait.
 

I peel away my blouse and throw it to the side. Owen rushes to undress himself, too, as I pull my pants off slowly, giving him a show, enjoying the way his face loses every edge and softens under the heat.
 

Naked, I walk over to him and sink my knees onto the cushions on either side of him. His skin sears the surface of my palms as I press my hands against his bare chest, and my hips down onto where his hardness pushes back from beneath his underwear.

"It's been a while," I whisper.

"I know," he breathes, as his lips brush over my collarbone. I lean back, letting his mouth taste the skin of my breasts, his tongue flicker over my nipples. "How do you do this?" he asks, almost to himself. "Your smell…drives me crazy."

I can barely hear his words, feeling them instead. Feeling his warm breath on my breasts as he kisses them between deep inhales as though getting high from my skin.

He teases my nipples, even as I turn my upper body toward my side-table, reaching into my purse for a condom. I prop myself up on my knees in front of him, his lips brushing the skin just under my breasts as he removes the last bit of fabric separating us. All without pulling our bodies away. The thought of separating my body from his, even by a centimeter, hurts in ways I can't explain.

Our mouths find each other again, tongues caressing and chests touching, as I lower myself onto him. I melt around his length until I'm weak by how delicious he feels and how completely he fills me.

He breathes out, letting his head fall back somewhat, eyes threatening to close but holding onto mine. Then I start weaving my hips over him, his warm hands gripping me, helping my movements. I'm on the edge of orgasm almost as soon as we begin. I keep myself right there, enjoying the incredible urge for release.
 

The air around us chars my lungs and singes my skin. My eyes drift down his gorgeous, sculpted chest to where our bodies connect, absorbing the sight of him sliding in and out of me. I pick up my pace, grinding furiously against him as his fingers burrow into my hips in warning that he's close.

My breathing grows heavier and our moans grow wilder. As I'm thrown into bliss, my body shivers and reels from the sensations just as he bites his lip and allows his orgasm to bring forth a low groan that carries over me. My body goes limp over his, my head collapsing over his shoulder, nose at the nook of his neck. I breathe in his scent, and the effect it has on me, even with my lust sated, scares me a little. It fills every part of me, making me miss it even as I inhale it.

Owen takes us to bed but as he lies down on his stomach beside me, a heavy silence falls over us. We are no longer distracted by the lyrical sounds of our breathing and moans or by the storm of desire between us.
 

He strokes my hair and, though he's looking right at me, the expression in his eyes is distant. When he presses his lips to mine, the guarded way he kisses me ties my stomach in knots.
 

This isn't right. Something isn't right.
 

"I want you to stop," Owen says into the silence.

"What?"

"Drinking. I want you to stop drinking."

I smooth out the sudden tension between my eyes and a streak of defensiveness roars to life so quickly, I'm powerless to stop the words that burst out of me. "I didn't have a dad growing up, Owen. And I don't need one now. I don't need you telling me what to do."
 

Silence.

I cover my face with one of my hands. Regretting my tone. Regretting how Owen and I are tainted by something I can't get a grip on. Things haven't been the same since the morning Owen found me on the side of the road.
 

We can't shake it off. The grime I spent all morning trying to scrub away from every surface of our loft covers our entire relationship. No, it's all over me.
 

He pulls his hand away from my hair, his jaw flexing, though he keeps his tone even. "You had your mom. Is that who you want to be?"

That's a low blow and he knows it. He lets out a breath, as though acknowledging his lapse. I sit up in bed and he does the same, the sheets around our waists, our bodies no longer touching.
 

"We're not okay, Emily. I don't know how to fix it, but we're not okay."

"If you're looking for a way out—If you don't want to do this anymore..."

He hesitates. "The problem isn't that I don't want to. Don't you get that? The problem is that I do. The problem is that I can't resist you. And as long as I give in to you, you'll never see a reason to change."