Read Little White Lies Online

Authors: Aimee Laine

Little White Lies (19 page)

BOOK: Little White Lies
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“Expecting company?”

“What? No.” Wyatt dug through the freezer for ice. He wrapped a few cubes in her shirt, laid it against the side of his nose. “It’s decor.”

Charley replaced his hand with hers against his nose.

His hands found their way to her waist.

“I could wash this stuff for you.”

He waved the thought away. “Sheila will do it.”

Charley bristled, the hairs on her arm standing on end.

“Don’t like her much, do you?”

“I think I’ve made a bad impression, that’s all. Does she live here?”

“She does. Does that bother you?”

“I don’t know.”

Wyatt hesitated. “I could toy with you on this, but if you promise to give me the truth straight-up, I’ll do the same.”

She grinned. “Deal.”

“Prove it.” The gleam in Wyatt’s eye added to his challenge.

Charley ran her hands up his chest, banked the inward sigh she wanted to let slip from her lips. “I—” His muscles contracted under her palms. “I can’t be anything but a fully grown human female. Cael’s the only male I know who can be female.”

His grin sent internal fireworks off in her body.

“We’re all marked with a particular trait. Would you like to see?” Her fingers roamed up to his shoulders.

“Like a tattoo?”

She shook her head, closed her eyes and opened them again. “This is it.”

His eyes ranged across her body. “Did you change something?”

“Look closer.”

“Whoa.”

“Yeah, that’s what wigs most people out.”

“They’re a weird purpley and … holy shit!”

“Freak you out yet?”

“No more than watching that silver-blue lingerie thing fall off your body when you changed from Candie.”

“Ah, yeah. That.” She patted his chest, but wanted to grab hold and smother herself in him.

“Candie’s breasts or yours?”

Charley giggled. “Hers.”

“And after you did your shift-change-thingy?” One eyebrow raised.

Heat rose from the depths. Mixed with desire, Charley prepared to self-implode. “Mine.”

• • •

“So you, Lily, Cael and James? All shape-shifters? Do you all have a photographic memory, too?”

“Lily, Cael and James are mimics, too, yes, but we each have different strengths and abilities.” Charley nodded at him.

“You looked really different before. Normal but not the same as today. Except,” Wyatt paused. “I think Cael and James were bigger.”

Charley’s chuckle warmed him. “They were.”

“I’d like to get a new shirt. Care to join me?”

She nodded him forward and followed him up the stairs and through a short hall to a set of double doors. The room held a bed the size of the ocean and a dome-shaped ceiling painted like the night sky.

“Like it?” Wyatt dropped the blood-soaked, ice-filled shirt to the floor. He pulled Charley against his bare chest, and swung his hips in a slow, seductive dance. “I fell in love with you on the night of our first kiss. Do you remember? Out on your balcony?”

“I remember,” Charley’s voice barely reached a whisper. “I don’t forget anything. Ever.”

“I don’t forget much either.” He caught Charley’s hesitation. “So, who else have you been?”

Her smile reached into her eyes. “Are you really interested? I thought you’d hate me by now.”

Wyatt sighed. “I could never hate you, Charley.”

“Even though everything you know about me is a lie?”

“Is it, though?” Wyatt kept them moving, relishing her touch on his skin. “You had to protect yourself. You thought what you did was the right thing. You know? I get that. I do. And, well … you don’t look all that different than you did before, now that I think about it.”

Her head continued to rest against him. “Probably because I didn’t change my shape much from my time as Mira.”

“Candie was six feet and you’re what, five eight? What’s your norm?”

She pulled back, her eyes penetrating his. “I am, in fact, five-eight. This supremely black hair, the legs and the breasts … they’re all my birthday suit, to put it in the most natural of terms. I got really tired of the forced transformation on my birthday, so since Mira, I’ve kept to the real me as much as possible, or at least when I’m not working.”

He ran his fingers up and down her arm, like the wave he’d made of the silhouettes that graced many of the walls of her home.

“So, to get back to your question, I’ve been a number of famous people. Since I can literally be the person and understand what they do, I get called up a lot.”

“You know, that’s impressive. People always say they want to be the President or Marilyn Monroe, or Elvis.”

“And that’s exactly what I do, though I can’t be Elvis. I know someone that plays him in Vegas, though. His act is superb.” Charley winked.

Wyatt stepped closer, brushed a hair away from her shoulder, leaned to her ear, and nibbled. “I like the black. Liked that gold color, too.”

“I could change into Mira if you wanted.” Her voice held a faint hint of guilt mixed with anxiety, topped off with a dollop of lust.

“No. I like this you the most.”

She arched her neck as he traced a line down it. A shiver raised the line of soft hair.

“And I want all of you.”

20

In one quick move, he unhooked her bra. Charley gasped as he spun her around, and wound his arms around her front until they fit against her hips. She pressed back against him but let the lace fall to the floor. His hands traced their way up her sides. His palms cupped her as his thumbs flicked across pink tips. Tingles of need shot straight to her core.

His tongue flicked against her lobe. “I wondered what it would be like to make love to you in your bed that night. I’ve always had this dream that I’d find out one day.”

Charley raised her arms, wrapping them around Wyatt’s neck, her breasts exposed except for the tease he added between his fingertips. His moan matched hers as his tongue caressed the edge of her ear. He nibbled his way around as they continued their dance.

Charley turned to face him, replaced her hands around his neck, and pressed against his solid form. Her fingers walked up his skin, sliding toward his shoulders. His biceps contracted as her hands brushed them. Wyatt’s hands found her butt and gripped, pulled her against him as she looked into his eyes.

Dammit!
The rust of blood below his nose zapped the arousal he’d created. “I think we should clean you up.” She wiped away a spot with her thumb, wanted to wipe away the blue and purple that painted his nose, too.

“Will you help?” The seductive undertones left ‘help’ to be redefined.

“Yes.”

Wyatt disappeared into what Charley assumed to be the master bath. As she passed the armoire to the side of the entrance, she stopped and drew in a breath.

“Wyatt?”

“Yeah?”

“Uh … will you come here for a sec?”

“Hang on.”

The splash of a shower’s spray began before he popped his head back out of the door.

She pointed to the painting. “You kept it?”

He emerged, hands on the frame of the door. “Yes. No matter where I’ve lived, I’ve brought it with me.”

“Why?” she asked in a whoosh of breath she hadn’t realized she’d held.

“Because you created it.”

“But you didn’t know that … yet.”

“It didn’t matter. It was the only thing I had from you.” Wyatt took one of her hands.

Charley shifted to re-cover her breasts.

“You know I’ve already seen them, right?” He winked at her. “Come in here.”

She walked into the Taj Mahal of bathrooms. A massive whirlpool tub on a raised platform took center stage, and the spray she’d heard before pointed into it, not in a shower. A wall of windows would welcome the sun if it weren’t dark, and three sinks, with vanity chairs between them, added to the regal effect.

“This is the ultimate female bathroom, Wyatt,” she said. “Are you really a girl?”

He smiled as he sat on the edge of the tub, his hand in the midst of the running water. “Hot or warm?”

“Whatever you want.”

“Bubbles or no?”

“Oh yeah, bubbles,” Charley said.

Soft towels lay folded on a shelf. Wyatt’s razors and shaving cream hid behind the mirrored medicine cabinet she opened out of pure curiosity. Fresh flowers, presumably placed there by Sheila, sat arranged in a beautiful golden, inlaid vase on the counter.

“This room is as gorgeous as the rest of the house.”

“Thank you. I had a designer redo most of it. Are you ready to get in … uh … to fix my face?” He pointed to his nose where the color bloomed into and around his right eye.

• • •

The jets roared to life. Water gurgled in bursts of air and spray. A stream of gel frothed into miniature white clouds, spilling rainbows of color and adding a sweetness to the air.

Wyatt stood, hooked his fingers into the waist of his pants, and began to push them down. “I’ve already seen you naked, so I figure I owe you the same.”

Charley stifled the moan as she stepped to him, stopped his efforts. “Payback … is not necessary.” The muscles under her palms flexed. She ran them up his chest and across his shoulders, taking in the ripples, softness and hardness that encompassed him.

Her eyes stayed fixed on his.

She let her hands follow the line of his arms to his fingertips and back up, covering the length of his torso until she slipped a finger between the warmth of his skin and the waistband. Her hand slid around to the side, drawing his covering down toward the floor.

Wyatt caught her hair in his fingers as she moved lower until he could no longer hang on.

She sank to her knees in front of him. He stepped out as she touched each ankle. Fingertips slid up the inside of his leg, around, and over every facet of his body, every inch of which she had wanted to savor for so long—the texture, warmth and tenderness.

Wyatt’s groan made her smile.

His hands found her hair again as she rose. He tugged her upward as her tongue followed from his middle to his lips. She pulled back, let her lips dance across his to his cheeks and ears until she lowered again. He guided her mouth down until she released and slid back up, pressing herself against him.

His hands found the buttons of her jeans, undoing them one by one. As he reached the last, he moved one hand behind her head, pulled her lips to his, and slid his other between skin and cloth.

Charley moaned in pleasure as his fingers enticed, aroused and offered satisfaction in a manner she’d only ever dreamed.

Their lips met again with a ferocity Charley had experienced once before—with the same man.

He pulled back, pushed her jeans toward the floor. She slipped from the folds of cotton as their mouths continued to tease and torment.

He lifted her to his waist. Drunk with anticipation, she wrapped her legs around him and grinned between the embraces.

More.

The water beside them sputtered as bubbles threatened to overflow.

“Skip the tub?” Wyatt asked in a breathless catch as he nipped along the edge of her lip.

Charley shook her head, kept her eyes locked on his.

Wyatt shifted to the lip of the tub, spun so they stepped in, over and within the bubbles, together. Charley rested her knees on either side of his hips, moved lower until, within the water, she and the bubbles encompassed the whole of them.

Her pleasure built to a scream, but she withheld as Wyatt tormented her with hands, lips and teeth. The passion she always dreamed of rose to the surface.

Water and bubbles dripped from a hand that found its way to her face again. Wyatt pulled her toward him, their lips touched and retreated, converging as their tongues slid against the other.

“I’ve always wanted you, Charley.” He mumbled against her.

“I’m yours, forever.”

Her hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging into tense muscles as she levered and took all of him inside her body. Under the warmth of their liquid cover, they fit together—two pieces cut from the same picture, rejoined by a puzzle master.

Charley moved against him.

His body went rigid as he groaned. “What about—”

“It’s okay.” She whispered into his ear while she let her body fall against his and away. The water of the tub sloshed against its rim. “I’m not … ah … fertile until I … ah … blend.”

“I have no idea what that means, but it works for me.” Wyatt’s hands found their home again at Charley’s breasts, which he caressed with soft lips.

She continued the pace at their hips and elicited moans—sounds she’d wanted to pull from him. She tingled with each new touch, bracing her hands against the tub to give him better access. Vibrations of love and lust mixed within her body as they continued.

Charley sped up as Wyatt’s breathing accelerated. His eyes met hers as she drew her body up and back down. The power of her movement sent waves of water over the edges of the tub.

He bit into her flesh as she timed her movements to counter his thrusts from below. With her hands in his hair, she drew in his scent—a combination of bubbles and male—erotic, sensual and sweet all at once.

Her head fell backward, the tips of her curls reaching into the water. Small echoes of times past ran through her mind as she writhed in pleasure against the strength of their movement. The power grew until it exceeded that of even a transformation—full of love and carnal need.

Surrounded by bubbles that crept their way up and across his broad shoulders, he wrapped his arms around her. She rocked and ground her hips, straining for a release. With a last thrust, he followed her lead, and together they slid down the rainbow and reached the pot of gold.

• • •

They stayed connected until the last of the translucent soap merged with the water and the temperature cooled. Despite the heat they produced, the wet liquid turned tepid far too soon. Charley’s wet hair reached her butt and tickled as it flitted against Wyatt’s skin. He curled a lock around his finger, twisted it into the water as she snuggled against the crook of his arm.

Wyatt chuckled as he pulled his hand out of the water. “We’re getting pruney.”

Charley didn’t budge. “I’m not.”

“Seriously?” He shifted her away from him, got a pout with a full bottom lip in return. “You don’t get all wrinkly?”

“Nope.”

“Well, damn. That’s probably the freakiest—”

Charley threw her head back and laughed. The water jostled around them, sprayed him with errant splashes.

“You don’t wig at the purple eyes, but you think the fact I don’t get all ‘pruney’, as you call it, isn’t right.” She nearly tweaked his nose, stopped at the sight of the colors, and laid a soft kiss upon the side instead. “Now that, Mr. Moreland, is a classic.” A huge yawn followed.

“You gotta have something wrong with you, right?”

She added a frown to her otherwise perfect face. “Do you need me to not be perfect?”

“Are you being sarcastic?”

The slight grin that peeked out and disappeared suggested the latter. “Think we should exit our quickly cooling pond here?”

“I’m so sorry.” She slipped off him and all but jumped from the tub.

Wyatt shook his head like a wet dog as he dripped his way out. “What? You didn’t have to rush.”

She nodded, shook and nodded her head again.

“Perhaps an explanation would be better than all the head movements?” He circled a finger in her direction.

“I’m sorry, I just. Oh. Wyatt, see?” She stood without a towel.

“You’re not temperature sensitive?” He grabbed one of the Egyptian cotton wraps and tossed it to her.

“I’m not.” She rubbed at her eyes with the butt of her hand.

He moved to her. “Are you … um … cold blooded?”

She whipped her head in his direction. “No. I’m not a serpent if that’s where you’re going, but my body temperature changes sometimes or in the heat of the moment I can’t feel … whatever. Heat, though, is just the opposite. Heat wears me out because it’s what allows us to change.”

“What’s your ‘species’ again?” He rubbed at his legs, finishing out his toweling, and caught Charley’s gaze.

She smiled as he did.

“Mimic.” She staggered as she brought her head straight up. “Whoa. Head rush.”

Wyatt winged her into his arms. He laid his lips against her, and naked, walked them into his room. With Charley still in his grasp, he yanked the comforter away, laid her on the bed, and snuck in behind her where his muscles relaxed against hers. Warm or cool, he didn’t care.

“I’m fine with mammal or reptile, by the way.” He spoke into her hair. “I’m just glad I have you in my arms again—where I’ve wanted you for sixteen years.”

Her body tensed before it calmed.

“Nothing you could ever say or do will change the way I feel.”

• • •

Light streamed through stained-glass windows, teasing Charley’s senses awake. She stretched under the warmth of the covers, tucked against Wyatt’s body, and pushed her arms high over her head. The reds and blues, oranges and greens blended with the sunshine to wake her with a beauty that reflected her mood.

He groaned at her nudged.

“Wyatt.”

“Huh?”

“We should get up. Gotta go back home. Need to think about Friday.” Charley rolled over to face him, nuzzled his nose. The colors, a sickly green and blue, reminded her of the pretty light that shone upon them.

Ouch.

He opened his eyes one by one. “Time is it?”

Charley rose up on her elbow, peered over his shoulder. “Seven ten.”

“’K.”

“Um, Wyatt?” she asked while she yanked sheets and blankets to fit the mattress.

He stood in front of a chest in mid-clothes-selection. “Yeah?” he said without turning.

“I’m going to need a shirt that doesn’t contain … blood, please.” Charley moved around to the other side, tugged the spread to align it to the bed’s frame.

Wyatt opened a drawer, pulled out a red shirt and threw it to her. “Red … In case you opt to slug me again, it won’t show as much.” He chuckled and went back to his search.

Charley grimaced. He’d taken her complete overreaction in stride, but she’d broken one of her cardinal rules: no force when not in a life or death situation. He’d shrugged it off as if it happened every day.

She pulled the edge of the blanket and smoothed it out but stretched it again.

“Shower?” He strolled back to the bathroom as well dressed as a new born baby.

Charley patted the edge once more, looked over the space where she’d lain curled into him and listened to his heartbeat. His breath against her neck had warmed and soothed, his arms had protected and his presence had filled her with a light the stained glass window didn’t come close to in comparison.

This is what I want. All of it.
Charley sighed.

He started the shower but leaned over the counter when she caught up to him. Charley noted the two heads at opposite sides went along well with the dual sinks.

Handy.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Wyatt said.

Charley turned to him and smiled. “You know you said that to me way back when?”

“Probably. It’s a favorite cliché of mine. Do I need to offer you a quarter?”

She walked to him where he’d stood, razor in hand, and wrapped her arms around his waist. Her cheek against his back, she listened to the thump-thump within. He moved his arm around her after he set the razor down, turned and kissed the top of her head.

BOOK: Little White Lies
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