It's Never Enough: Book 1 in the Never Series (9 page)

With the back of my hand, I wiped a drop of water away from the corner of my mouth. “Nothing,” I said as innocently as a lamb. “I must have what Haley has, that’s all.”

“What Haley has is anorexia,” Fiona shot.

“Fuck you!” Haley screamed before locking herself in my bedroom.

“Leave her alone,” I said to Fiona.

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t defend her. And if you’re going to join her—”

“Listen, I can do what I want when I want, and you don’t have any say in how I live my life.” Heat surged through my body, and I started shaking with anger.

“Of course I have a say. I’m your sister!” Her voice broke on the last word.

“First of all, you’re my stepsister, and not even that anymore, so just back the hell off, okay.” I stormed past her to my bedroom door.

“Mallory,” she called out.

“Just stay in your part of the house, and I’ll stay in mine. Got it?” I looked back through my bedroom doorway and saw the tears in Fiona’s eyes as I closed her out of my life with the click of my closed door.

***

“Seriously, it wasn’t you,” I said placing a hand on her shoulder. “I was the one that pushed you away.”

She pulled up the grater and exposed a mound of fresh mozzarella cheese. “I know you did. I guess I’m just saying I should have pushed back.” She laid eggplant slices out on a cookie sheet lined with parchment paper. She really had done some research. Then she sprayed the slices with olive oil spray. “I just want to be sure everything is okay with you.”

“It is,” I answered quickly.

She showed a little smile before peppering the tops of the eggplant. “Look, I know it’s still a struggle for you, and I know you’ve come up with your own very specific ways to deal with food and stuff, but…” She sprinkled the eggplant slices with salt and then moved closer to me. Without looking at me, but placing herself so we were arm to arm, she continued softly, “Promise me that you’d tell me if things were getting out of control. Please?”

For how close Fiona and I were, we never really went into the whole deal with Haley’s death and my eating disorder deal. Instead, we just somehow transformed from more than just stepsisters. More than just friends. Somehow, we bonded in an unspoken way, and it was something that I cherished. I didn’t want her to think I couldn’t come to her if I was having problems, but I also wasn’t the type to seek people out when I had those problems. She was still next to me waiting silently for my response. How could I let her down? “Of course,” I said, and she let out a long exhalation. “So I’m guessing we’re working on eggplant parm here?”

Her lips turned up into a confident smile. “Yup, and it’s, like, so easy I can’t believe it.” She tossed the eggplant slices into the oven with a flourish like they did on television.

She was so adorable it made me laugh. “You might want to turn the oven on, Miss Next Star Chef.”

She whipped my behind with a dishtowel, and I flung some mozzarella cheese at her. And I laughed a deep belly laugh like I hadn’t laughed for a long time.

CHAPTER TEN

Devin and I were sitting on my couch watching some old black-and-white movie on a classic movie channel. “Don’t you think we should watch at least some of the movie?” I said between kisses.

Devin breathed lightly in my ear. “Watching movies is overrated, isn’t it? You’re not living in the moment; you’re watching moments other people have had. I’d much rather be in the moment with you.” He traced soft kisses from my ear lobe all the way down my neck to my collarbone.

“You have a good point.” My voice was breathless like a marathon runner’s. Suddenly, there was a loud crash from the hallway. Devin pulled himself off me like a speeding bullet and was immediately in a standing position facing the door.

“What the hell was that?” he barked.

My heartbeat shifted from a quick, excited pace to a frantic, fear-filled pace. I moved past Devin, who stood like a statue, and looked through my peephole to see Mr. Dobson in the hallway. “Mr. Dobson, are you okay?” I asked after opening the door.

He was bent over trying to pick up some pans he’d dropped. “Mallory, so sorry to disturb you, my dear. I just wanted to return these pans to you.” His breath was shallow.

With one hand, I scooped up the trays, and with the other, I took hold of his thin arm and helped him get to a standing position. “But you’re okay?” I asked again.

He smiled an old, wrinkly smile. “I’m always okay when I see you, Mallory.”

“Such a flirt!” I playfully batted his arm.

“Thank you for the sweet treats. I enjoyed every last bite.”

“You’re welcome. And now that I have these pans back, I can make even more for you.” I shifted the pans under one arm, and they made another loud clanging noise. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” I said as I watched him shuffle back to his apartment.

When I returned back to my apartment I saw Devin sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. Confused, I set the trays on the kitchen counter and went and sat beside him. “Hey, is everything all right?”

He took his hands from his head and attempted to smile, but it was a failed effort. “What? Yeah, I’m good. I just got a touch of a headache, that’s all.”

I shifted myself off the couch. “Here, lay down and see if that helps. Do you want any pain medicine or anything?” As he lay down, I placed a fluffy chenille blanket on top of him.

“Damn, you’re sweet.” He pulled me down to him and kissed my lips. “I’ll be okay. I just need to relax for a few, and I’m sure it’ll ease up on its own.”

He looked a little pale. “Are you sure? What can I get you?”

“Just you,” he said before pulling me down to him. He held the blanket up so I could lie down on top of him. Under the blanket, he wrapped his arms around me. My head rested on his chest, and I could hear his heart beating quickly. His breath was shallow, and I began to worry. Was he really okay? My head lifted as he took a deep breath, which he held for a beat before slowly releasing it. It reminded me of yoga breathing. He repeated the sequence three more times, and it made me feel calmer. His heart rate declined. His hands gently rubbed my back. My shirt lifted slightly and exposed the skin of my lower back. Devin’s fingers traced small circles over my skin. Goose bumps burst across my arms, and my pulse began to rise. Such a small act of his fingers on my flesh sent me into overdrive.

“You have the softest skin,” he said as his hands continued up my back. “Almost as soft as your lips.”

I shimmied myself up so I could kiss him. His warm mouth enveloped mine, and flashes of heat moved throughout my body. His hands explored all different parts of me, my hair, my face, my shoulders, and my backside. The moment I unconsciously began to grind my lower body against his, I felt a vibration—a literal vibration—against my right hip.

“Sorry,” Devin said as he reached down and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He looked at the screen, and his face fell. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He sat up slightly, moving me along with him.

“What’s wrong?” I asked while adjusting the back of my bra strap.

“My mom needs my help.” He was texting something on his phone.

“With what?”

“She’s having a birthday party for Kyle tomorrow, and she forgot the cake. Now she’s home with Kyle and doesn’t want him to be there when she gets the cake, so she’s sending me to pick it up.” He looked from the phone to me. “And the last thing I want to do right now is leave you.” His eyes bore through me to a place that made my heart stop for a moment.

“Well are you okay to go? I mean, how’s your head?” I didn’t want him to go either. In fact, I wanted to rip his clothes off with my teeth.

He rubbed his scalp. “It’s okay. I just—”

“Wait!” I grabbed his arm. “I can help!”

He cocked his head to the side like a curious puppy. “Help with what?”

“I love to bake. We can bake him a cake. Together. Right now.” I stood, took his hand, and led him to the kitchen.

***

After laying out essentials on the counter—flour, sugar, eggs, vanilla, and butter—I turned to Devin. “Okay, so what’s Kyle’s favorite flavor? Chocolate? Vanilla?”

“Orange?” Devin said, his face scrunched up in an odd expression.

My eyebrows crinkled. “Orange? Really?”

He shrugged. “What can I say? The kid could eat creamsicles morning, noon, and night.”

“Okay then, how about an orange chiffon with vanilla icing?”

He moved closer to me, wrapping one hand around my waist and lightly pressing his lips on mine. Every inch of me burst into flames. “You’re constantly surprising me, you know that? And you’re so friggin’ cute when you’re domestic.”

“You should see me vacuum.” I giggled and gave him a flirtatious wink. As soon as the words came out of my mouth, Devin had taken me by the waist and sat me on the counter. As he licked my collarbone, I wrapped my legs around him and pulled him closer to me. My stomach dropped, my breath broke, and a steady ache pulsed between my thighs. My hands held his head as his tongue grazed the exposed parts of my breasts that peeked out from my t-shirt. His hands massaged my erect nipples through my shirt. When he licked between my breasts, my body shuddered, and my hand jetted out from under me and knocked something over. My vision was hazy when I opened my eyes, and I saw the flour container spilled all over the counter.

“Shit. The cake.” I said while unwrapping my legs from Devin’s waist.

“The what?” He stroked the side of my breast.

I tried to be strong. I tried thinking about non-sexy things. Litter boxes and public restrooms. “Kyle’s cake. It’s getting late we need to start baking.”

Devin shook his body out like a dog after a bath. Like he was trying to shake his raging hormones away. “No, no, you’re right. The cake is top priority. The cake. Birthday cake.” He tugged at the crotch of his jeans. “Nothin’ to see here people. Move along.” He tugged again.

I laughed and started to move closer to him to kiss him—the urge was palpable—but I refrained and turned to clean up the spilled flour. Once the counter was clean, I put Devin on orange duty. His job was to zest and juice the oranges while I worked on the other ingredients. It was nice having him in the kitchen with me. It made me feel a lot less anxious around the food. With him there, I wasn’t obsessing over how I was going to handle not eating the entire dessert. This dessert had a different intention then when I normally made desserts. Normally, they were for my own quick fix. Even though I gave ninety-five percent of the desserts to Mr. Dobson, I still always made the desserts because of my anxiety. But this cake had a purpose. It was Kyle’s birthday cake, and I didn’t want to deface it by eating a corner of it. It was special, and it was a feeling I hadn’t had before.

Devin did so well with the oranges that I moved him onto greasing and flouring the pans for me. Once I’d completed the batter, I gave them to Devin to pour into the two round cake pans he’d already prepped. He even started cleaning up as I finished off preparing the icing.

“Now we just have to wait for the cakes to bake and then give them about twenty minutes to cool before icing them,” I said as I placed the icing in the refrigerator.

“Great. It already smells amazing in here.” Holding up two orange halves, Devin asked,  “Should I just toss these out?”

“Um, if there’s no juice left in them, then yes.” I turned my back to him to grab a paper towel. Then I felt his body merge against mine.

“Let’s see if there’s any juice left,” he said just before I felt drops hit my neck. The fragrant scent of the orange permeated my nose, and I leaned my head to the side just before he began to suck and lick the juice off of me.

“Waste not, want not.” I was barely able to speak.

“Exactly,” he said as he spun me around to face him. His mouth always found the perfect balance of hard and soft as his sweet lips melted with mine.

My urges took over. I moved our bodies so I was pinning Devin against the fridge. In a second’s time, I pulled his shirt off—exposing his insanely chiseled chest—and grabbed the orange from his hand. Starting at his shoulder, I squeezed the orange and sent drops of juice all the way down his chest to his waist. Then starting from the top, I stood on my toes to lick from his shoulder, over his pecs, across his stomach, and to the top of his jeans. He let out a voracious moan, and just as I was about to trace my way back up, I heard the door shut.

“Guys, the no-sex-on-the-couch rule also applies to the kitchen!” Fiona cackled while walking to her bedroom. “Nice pecs, by the way.”

I buried my head in Devin’s hard, warm chest and began to laugh. “Well, that was awkward.”

“Yeah, I don’t really like to go flashing hard-ons to girls I’m not involved with,” he said as I handed him back his shirt.

“I should hope not.” I took his hands in mine. “We have some time till the cakes need to come out of the oven.” I started to walk backwards and pulled him along with me. “Why don’t we waste some time in my bedroom? That way, we don’t break any of Fiona’s house rules.”

Two more steps back, and Devin stopped in his tracks. His eyes stared hard at my bedroom. “Ah, yeah, maybe we should just chill out on the couch.” He slid his hands from mine.

Ouch
. Was I being like a total slut? I wasn’t implying we should go and have sex in the thirty minutes it would take for the cakes to bake, but I was more than happy to pick up where we’d left off. “Oh, I see.” I wrapped my arms around myself and stepped back away from him. Embarrassment shaded my face a deep crimson.

“Hey, no.” He moved towards me placing his hands on my elbows. “It’s not that I’m not into it. Trust me I’m into it.” He motioned to the bulge that was dangerously close to exploding his pants open. “It’s just…” He looked to my bedroom again, and a strange blankness crossed his face. “Well…” He swallowed hard. “Fiona’s here, and the cakes are baking. Let’s just sit out here in the open. I mean, on the couch. Together. Okay?” His eyes were soft and almost pleading.

Even though I didn’t quite understand, I nodded my head. He was probably right. Why get all worked up only to have to switch gears again? Plus, Fiona was just down the hall in her bedroom. I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, even though it took a lot to make Fiona uncomfortable. So we sat on the couch together—hand in hand, thigh to thigh—and watched a lame reality show while the timer clicked down. Even though Devin was right next to me, when I looked at his eyes, he seemed so far away.