Believing Lies (40 page)

I nudged her with my shoulder. “Thanks, ass-wipe.”

Sophie nudged me back. “No problem, ass-hat.”

She smiled when she saw the little bananas covering the wrapping paper on the gift I handed her. Making quick work of the paper, she pulled out a thong banana hammock that was actually designed to look like a banana, a Marvin Gaye CD, and a bottle of baby oil. Inside was a note card that read: May all your fantasies come true. (I put a unicorn sticker in the corner.)

“Finally!” she said through giggles. “I was getting sick of Conner wearing my thongs while dancing to ‘I’m Too Sexy.’”

I pretended to gag. “I really hope you’re joking right now.”

She winked. “Maybe.”

“Another mental image that will be forever burnt into my brain,” I complained.

I tugged on a pair of pajama pants, and we went downstairs. Our parents were waiting by the Christmas tree, ready to open presents. I was pea-green with envy when Sophie opened a pair of diamond stud earrings from her dad—that was until I opened the same pair from my parents. Sophie and I both got our dads matching fishing poles to use on their annual week-long fishing trip. I bought my mother a full day spa package for her and I to use together. My mother and dad exchanged gifts privately, but I was sure that the new diamond tennis bracelet on her wrist was from him.

While my mother always catered the Christmas Eve party, Christmas Day dinner she always cooked herself. Sophie and I were put to work on pie duty. While the pies baked, I ate leftover food from the night before, in an effort to tide me over until dinnertime.

At three o’clock, we were shooed upstairs to go get ready. It never made sense to me why we had to get dressed up for Christmas when it was just our immediate family here anyway, but Mother had always insisted that it was a necessity. I wore a very pretty, short red jersey dress. There was no way I was dealing with nylons today; Mother would just have to deal with it. Sophie was her usual stunning self in a tight, black pencil dress and signature red lipstick.

Sophie and I joined our dads in the sitting room, and Mother popped in to inform us that dinner would be ready at about five-thirty. My stomach grumbled at the thought of waiting thirty more minutes.

Sophie jumped up when the doorbell rang, notifying us of Conner’s arrival. She scurried off with a skip in her step. Seeing her so happy, made me only notice how lonely and sad I was. I wondered where Adam was today. It made me sick to think he might be home alone on Christmas.

My dad stood up and looked to the doorway. “Ah, here they are. I’m glad you boys could both make it. Merry Christmas.”

Boys? Both?
My head whipped back to find Adam standing next to Conner with a very nervous look on his face. But damn, did he look a-maz-ing! I loved the whole “bad boy” image thing he usually rocked, but Adam in a gray fitted button-down shirt and black pants caused my inner vixen to come out of hibernation and put on some lipstick. I imagined ripping the shirt open with my teeth.
Oh, no. Not good
.

“Thanks so much for inviting us, sir.” There he went calling my dad, sir, again.

“Nonsense. You’re basically family now. And from now on, it’s Charles.”

Adam smiled and nodded. My dad and uncle were greeting Conner, but I wasn’t really paying attention very much. I was too busy staring at Adam like a damned fool. I’d officially stepped into an episode of the
Twilight Zone
. I tried to wrap my head around the information I’d gotten from the few short sentences: My dad invited Adam. Nobody thought to tell me in advance. Dad called Adam “family.”

Every neuron in my body was on high alert as I watched Adam cross the room to me. The status jumped to hyper-alert when he sat down next to me on the couch.

I tried to keep my voice from shaking. “This is unexpected,” I whispered low enough to not be heard by the others.

“I’ve spent too long expecting you to forgive me and come back to me on your own,” he whispered back. “I’ve realized that’s probably not going to happen, so moving to the unexpected was my only option left.”

My mouth went dry.
I need a drink. Shit. Cross that out. Meatball. I need a meatball
. “Meatball.”
Yikes. Did I say that out loud?

He grinned. “I haven’t been called that one yet. I must admit, it’s much nicer than some of the other things you’ve called me.”

“I’m not calling
you
a meatball,” I clarified. “I’m hungry. I’m going to go get a meatball.”

“Oh.” He looked a little worried. “If you want me to leave, I will. But I really hope you let me stay.”

“Of course you can stay. I’m just hungry.”

I stood up, and my dad pinned me in place with his eyes. “Sweetheart, are you going somewhere?”

“Meatball.”
Geez. Can’t you say anything besides meatball, Sienna? Get. It. Together
.

My dad furrowed his brow, and Adam explained, “She’s going to go get a meatball. She’s hungry.”

My dad started to laugh. “Your mom will skin you alive if you spoil your appetite before her turkey is ready. Plus, aren’t you sick of them after how many you ate last night?”

My face colored in embarrassment, and I sat back down.

A slight grin crept across Adam’s lips. “Just how many meatballs did you eat last night, Princess?” he asked me quietly.

“Don’t call me that,” I quietly snapped back.

“That many, huh?” He started to chuckle, and I elbowed him. His chuckle turned into a laugh, and now we had all eyes on us.
Great. Just great
.

Mother came into the sitting room and stopped short when she noticed the boys. Her eyes instantly zeroed in on Adam. Even though she’d never met him before, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out who was sitting next to her daughter. She went to Conner first and introduced herself, welcoming him to our home. Then she came our way.

“Mrs. Trudeau, I’m Adam Korbell. It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for inviting me to your home.”

My mother cocked her brow. “Oh, I didn’t invite you. That was my husband’s doing.”
Booyah! Finally, someone who wasn’t a traitor
.

Mother informed us all that dinner was ready and abruptly left the room.

Adam’s face was unreadable. My dad tried to comfort him by saying, “Don’t worry too much. Clarice always takes a while to warm up to a person.”

As my dad and uncle left the room, Sophie snorted. “Yeah, Adam. I’ve known her my whole life, and she just started being nicer to me a few months ago.” She giggled. “So give her a couple of decades, and she’ll come around.”

She left with Conner to the dining room, leaving Adam to mull over her words. He looked a little pale, and his foot was tapping rapidly.

“You didn’t expect her to take it easy on you, did you,” I asked playfully. He looked at me, and his face relaxed. I stood up and extended my hand to him. “Come on, let’s go eat.”

The tension in his expression melted away, and his mouth curled up into a small smile, which shook my brick wall.

***

My mother peppered Adam with question after question over dinner, and in typical Adam fashion, I watched him slowly begin to win her over. When it appeared that she was satisfied with her inquisition, talk shifted to other topics.

I leaned in and whispered to Adam, “Pretty charming. I think it’ll only take you one decade instead of two to get in her good graces.”

He leaned in closer, and whispered back, “The only person at this table I care about charming is you.”

Very quietly, I replied, “Impossible. You don’t affect me anymore.” I pulled back and took a drink of my white grape juice, and my lips curled into a smirk around the glass rim.

And that’s when it happened—I felt Adam’s hand graze my thigh under the table, and I sprayed juice all over my plate and the tablecloth. All conversation instantly ceased, and all eyes were on me, yet his hand didn’t move. Nope, it inched further up and under the hem of my dress.

“Are you okay?” my dad asked me.

“Sorry. Wrong pipe,” I sputtered.

Sophie laughed, and Conner tried to hide a smile.

My uncle started back up the conversation, for which I was grateful.

Adam’s hand moved a little higher, his fingertips skimming my bare skin, leaving behind tiny licks of heat. It took every ounce of willpower to not show any change in demeanor. What the hell did he think he was doing? How far would he go? How far would I let him go? Wait, why wasn’t I stopping him in the first place?
Because you’re enjoying every second of this
. Stupid inner vixen needed to shut up.

I stood up, and his hand fell away. Even though I was the one who caused his hand to move, I was still mourning the loss. My mother looked at me questioningly. “Um. Excuse me. I’m going to use the bathroom,” I mumbled.

I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at my reflection, my fingers white-knuckled on the sink. I couldn’t get my body to stop humming. I was starved for his touch. Instead of images of sugar plums dancing in my head, images of Adam doing naughty things danced around. I needed to pull myself together. I’d heard that pregnancy could make a girl extra horny, but this was nuts. I came close to splashing my face with cold water, but smeared makeup would be pretty noticeable. I had no idea how long I was in that bathroom, calming down my raging libido, but everyone was conversing in the sitting room when I emerged.

Mother looked genuinely worried. “Sienna, are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine, Mother. Thank you for asking.” I managed a smile that I hoped was reassuring. “Just tired out, is all.”

It was as if I was a little child again. My parents tried to get me to go upstairs and go to bed, explaining how important it was to not wear myself out. If this was their reaction when I was only five months pregnant, I could only image how they would act a few months from now.

Sophie saved me by saying that she was ready to get going and that we’d go straight back to the apartment. My parents seemed appeased, so I went upstairs to get my things while my mother went to the kitchen to pack up some leftovers for us to take. I was putting my clothes in my bag when my bedroom door creaked open behind me. I turned to see Adam standing on the other side of my now closed door, smiling deviously. My heart rate picked up, and my traitorous body began to warm from the inside out.

“Why are you in my room, Adam?”

He held out a very small, red envelope with a tiny lime green Christmas bow. “I wanted to give you your Christmas present.”

“But I didn’t get you anything,” was the first thing to pop out of my mouth.

“Just open it.”

My fingers trembled as I took the envelope from his outstretched hand and pulled open the flap. Hanging from a red ribbon was a key. It was a gorgeous silk ribbon, but the key was nondescript. I glanced at him in confusion. “What is the key for?” I questioned, running the ribbon between my fingers.

“I’m not telling you.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll only tell you when you’re ready to know.”

“And I’m not ready to know yet?”

He seemed sad when he answered, “You’re getting closer, but no. Not yet.”

“Well, then I guess I’ll just say thank you and maybe someday I’ll know what I’m thanking you for.”

He drew close and reached for my hand. He took the key from me, untied the ribbon, and said, “Give me your wrist.” I did, and he tied the ribbon around it, creating a beautiful bow. The key rested against the top of my hand. He lifted my hand to his mouth, and placed a single kiss on my palm.

Adam looked at the goose bumps that were rapidly scattering up my arm, and grinned. “Downstairs, you said that I don’t affect you anymore,” he challenged me.

I looked him dead in the eye. “You don’t.”

He wrapped one arm around my waist, tugged me to him, and locked his mouth to mine before I could even blink. My humming, tingling body melted against him, and my mouth opened enough for him to kiss me . . . really, really kiss me. It was a toe curling, butterflies swirling, best kiss ever. He took a step back, and for the life of me, I couldn’t open my eyes.

“Open your eyes, Princess.”

I slowly did, looking up at him from under my lashes. The fevered look in his eyes took my breath from me. He kissed a hot trace of electricity across my jaw and up the side of my neck. My disobedient fingers found their way to the buttons of his shirt and started to open them.

He whispered, “Are you sure that I don’t affect you?”

“I may have been mistaken,” I honestly admitted on an exhale. The second shirt button popped free under my fingertips. I un-tucked his shirt from his pants and ran my hands under the fabric and up his washboard abs. Oh my God, I had missed the feel of his skin.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice low.

“I have no clue,” I breathed out.

“Your parents could come in,” he pointed out.

“Don’t care.”

That was the green light he needed. He undid the rest of his shirt and dropped it to the floor.
Holy Hell
. The sight of this man was mouthwatering. He lowered himself and slid his hands under my dress. He slowly stood, bringing the dress up with him.

“Raise your arms.”

I didn’t hesitate. I should have, but I didn’t.

He pulled my dress off and ran his hands over my body, his fingers skimming my skin from my waist and over my bra.

“You’re so beautiful.” The reverence in his voice melted me.

I grabbed him by the belt and backed up until my legs hit my bed. I sat and leaned back, bringing him down to me. He slid his hand into my panties and a moan escaped my mouth the minute his fingers touched me. I wrapped my hand behind his neck and brought his lips to mine. The delicious rhythm of his tongue was matching the rhythm of his fingers in perfect synchronization.

“Tell me to stop, and I will,” he murmured against my lips. “Tell me to go, and I’ll leave right now.”

“Don’t stop,” I begged in a desperate, urgent whisper.

He pulled my panties down very slowly, letting them flitter to the floor. He took off his pants and boxer briefs and then stretched his long body over mine, bearing his weight on his forearms.