Damage Me (Crystal Gulf Book 2) (26 page)

The moment I walked into the Evans family home and saw my daughter pieces of me let go of the feelings of betrayal I held for Harley. She made this happen. She gave me my baby. Went out of her way to mend a fence she hadn’t broken. I closed my eyes and kissed Aubrey’s hair, inhaling the smell of her baby soap. She curled up into a ball and used my left thigh as a pillow.

I pried the lollipop ring off her finger and put it on mine, finishing it off. There was also a smear of chocolate sauce from the cheesecake she’d shoveled into her mouth while giggling at the jokes Stacey cracked. There were too many Evans in the family to keep track of them all. It had always been difficult for me. But I knew Stacey was Harley’s cousin Carolyn’s daughter and Froy was her husband. All the kids except for Aubrey were Carolyn’s. She was Harley’s dad’s niece. I gave up after that, choosing to remember one other person from tonight.

Hillary. The girl had been so out of place I finally felt like I had an ally. The Evans weren’t perfect, but they weren’t imperfect either. They balanced that line in a way that made you sure you’d never get it as right as them. Hill had eaten her cheesecake, took the birthday song, and engaged in conversation, all while I could see the fear in her eyes and the discomfort in her body. When Harley’s mom mentioned bed, she’d jumped on the opportunity to escape. All this time I’d been positive Hillary and I were opposites. That was still true, probably always would be, but as I watched her struggle to fit in, I wondered if we were all that different, and why the idea comforted me.

It shouldn’t comfort me.

This golden haired angel shouldn’t be able to comfort a fallen soldier. We were both adrift right now. Floating away from ourselves at the same time everyone wanted us to swim. We were stuck. Which way did we paddle? I almost wanted to paddle to her, ask her to help me the way she did in the shower. She had answers, even at her age, and right now I yearned for them. I didn’t have answers on my own.

With Aubrey finally back in my arms, I knew I had a minimal amount of time left to figure it out. But I also knew that when I left here she’d stay. I’d go back home to my empty house, unable to move, freefalling toward the garbage. It was a twisted feeling to have what you wanted, and knowing you’d have to leave it here for later, and that it was better off that way.

“Dylan?”

Whitney came into the theater room. She smiled when she saw Aubrey and settled on the other end of the couch, gently touching her little foot. Her dark blond hair was in a lopsided ponytail, and her eyes were puffy from sleeping. Even with all that Whitney was a fox. Large, pale, blue eyes, that sexy southern accent, and a body that reminded me of Hillary’s. Neither girl was short, but they were fuller because of it. Although I preferred Hill, choosing her ass and legs over Whitney’s. Not to mention Whitney had about as many tats as I did. Her thighs were covered in them, unhidden by her short shorts. Somehow I preferred Hillary’s unblemished skin, her good on display for me. Though I couldn’t have it, I thought deep down her good was the only thing holding me together.

“Can’t sleep?” I guessed, smoothing the hair away from our daughter’s face. Blue from her candy stained her mouth.

She shook her head tiredly. “Bach and Harley are playing hide the sausage.”

I cringed, and she laughed, shoving her cold feet under Aubrey’s blanket. “Thanks for the image.”

“No problem.” Her smile faded, and she sighed. “We should talk now while you’re here.”

I gave up before the battle started. I looked into her eyes and brandished my soul. “I’ll do anything you want. Just don’t take my daughter.”

Her eyes immediately filled with tears. “That’s the last thing I want to do. But you’re not good for her right now. Look at you, Dylan. You’ve lost weight. You can barely walk. You haven’t tried to heal. You don’t have a job. You’re probably sitting in your house all day and night stewing. That isn’t going to help our baby. She loves you. If you don’t do it for yourself, do it for her.”

“I’m scared,” I whispered, blinking the sheen from my eyes. “It was hard the first time with Harley, and I’d been lying. This time, I have to do this and still be me. That’s terrifying, Whit.”

“You can do it. And you’re not alone. I don’t expect you to wake up tomorrow and be perfect. But I need you to try. None of us are perfect. She needs as much of that as she can get. I didn’t have that growing up. At. All. You didn’t either. She can’t be us.” She patted her chest, indicating the shit storm we were. “She has to be better. She’s so smart, so intuitive. We can beat this shitty cycle. Don’t you want to beat it? Don’t you want to be better than what everyone said you were?”

Hell.

I nod. I just nod. Because she’s right. Our grandparents raised our parents, and they raised us, and we’re raising Aubrey. If we kept going she could be me. The thought sent a terrified shockwave through my body. “I’ll try.” My voice didn’t waver; it was strong. “I promise to try.” I had to try.

She closed her eyes and took a deep, relieved breath. “Now, we need to talk about us.”

“Us?” As far as I was concerned there was no
us
. Whitney never wanted more from me.

“You were mean to me.”

I rolled my eyes. “Whit, come on. We were mean to each other.”

“Apologize.”

What was one more concession? “I apologize for being an insensitive dickhead. You’re the mother of my child, and you didn’t deserve that. Forgive me, please?”

She beamed and leaned over to place a soft kiss to my lips. “I forgive you, Daddy.” A movement must’ve caught her attention because she glanced over and smiled genially. “Hi. Hillary, right? We had dinner together at Bach’s house.”

Shit
.

I didn’t feel right about her seeing Whitney kissing me. Her jealous reactions still bothered me. How could she be jealous? Jealousy suggested there was more to her actions than just her desire to be safe.

I knew first hand emotion had nothing to do with desire. Sex did not denote love. I had sex with women I didn’t love for most of my life. But sometimes when I looked into her eyes I could almost see her confusion. She wanted to be safe, but at the same time she didn’t know what she was doing wrapped around my body. I had to keep it there. If it tipped too far over and she combined feelings with her jealousy we’d both be screwed, because I had a feeling if Hillary wanted it, I’d do my best to give it to her. If her desire was me, how could I give her that when it was the worst thing for her?

Why was I even considering it?

She was hurting, she was drifting—I understood that. I wanted to forget too; she made me do that, but emotions weren’t going to become a part of this. Hillary was one good girl too many. She’d rise up from this and walk out of my life one day. Women like Whitney, damaged women who could navigate this world I was stuck in, were what I wanted. What I’d get.

“Yes,” her soft, sexy voice spoke. “I’m sorry if I’m interrupting. I saw the light on downstairs and …” She let it hang there.

She was probably looking for me. She wanted me. My chest squeezed. “You’re not interrupting.” I couldn’t look at her. So I chose Whit instead, who was looking at me with a barely contained smile. “Take her to her room?” After she’d gathered Aubrey in her arms, I leaned over and kissed her cheek goodnight, whispering, “
I love you
,” so I didn’t wake her.

“Not too rough, D. The poor thing can’t hang like me.” She kissed my cheek on her way out with Aubrey, eyes bright and chuckling. “‘Night, Hill.”

“‘Night.”

Thanks for the advice
, I thought dryly.

Slowly, Hillary made her way deeper into the room. Her outfit was different. Gone were the baggy clothes and in their place was the last outfit I needed right now. White silk shorts cupping her ass and hugging her thighs, a pale green camisole that gripped her curves and caressed her tits, and her long golden hair hanging naturally around her face and shoulders. No makeup, soft bright skin, those jade green eyes—I was hypnotized.

But her eyes were not good, innocent orbs. They were infuriated and accusing. It only made her hotter. Anger mixed with the good girl turning her into someone I didn’t mind imagining the taste of.

She settled beside me and leaned against my shoulder. I struggled with myself for a long time before I gave in. I wrapped my arm around her body and traced her bare arm from elbow to shoulder, leaving a trail of goose bumps behind each go-around. Maybe Hillary wasn’t the only one confused. When the lust hit me, I lost all reasoning. When the pain became too much, I wanted to escape. Hillary did both to me. However, I couldn’t deny the need for boundaries. Asking me to damage her? She was losing it too fast. She wasn’t making sense, how could she be, asking me to do that?
Why don’t you finger her in the backseat again?
Confuse her a little more. I had to figure it out. Either I gave in and risked ruining her, or I pulled back and left her the way she would do me.

I never denied I was a selfish son of a bitch.

“This place is freaking me out. Is that an actual painting? And not like the ones Mom buys at Ross for five bucks. And the cars. The furniture. The kitchen. Their clothes. I mean look at these.” She tugged on her shorts, adorable face outraged and amazed. “It’s real silk, Dylan.”

I stared at her. The way her soft pink lips glistened. The way her tits swelled in her silk top, how the bud of her nipple hardened enough to tease me. My lungs struggled. Her entirety was overwhelming. I wanted her to overwhelm me.

“Dylan?”

I couldn’t help myself any longer.

I leaned over and kissed her shocked lips, nipping at her top one the way I’d always wanted. She gasped into my mouth, responsive as ever. Her responses to me were the kind of sexy I’ve yearned for. The honest emotions coming off of her when I made her feel good made my cock throb painfully. That was the umpteenth hard on she’d given me today. Each had gone unsatisfied. They’d continue that way until the confusion was gone from her eyes. When she looked at me and knew it was
me
she wanted and not just to forget, then I’d give her what she wanted. I wasn’t going to be the one to take the blame for her ruin.

Her lips were supple and warm. There was no free space between our lips; that’s how perfectly they fit. Her breath seeped out when she could breathe, filling my mouth with the taste of spearmint mouthwash. I wanted to taste the inside of her mouth, run my tongue over her teeth, eat her fucking soul. I could only imagine the taste of that. Good, sweet—it would be the best damn tasting soul around.

“Get on my lap.”

She waited a second before she followed my orders. She melted against my body and tentatively urged her tongue into my mouth. Her hesitation turned me on. The smell of her soft skin turned me on. The feel of her body against me turned me on. I was so turned on I couldn’t think about anything else in the entire world but the woman in my arms.

Our kiss, which had been purely impulsive on my part, slowly transformed into something more intense. She moaned long and deep, the way people do when they’re tasting something far more exquisite than anything they’ve ever had. It was a lit match tossed into a gas tank. We erupted. I had to have her, right now, right here. My thoughts faded into senseless fantasies. Her naked body beneath me, pussy wet, eyes begging me. Her tongue in my mouth, searing and hot. My name on her lips as I made her come so hard she never wanted to moan another man’s name ever again. Our bodies wrapped around each other, entangled, one, sweat and sex emanating from our flesh.

My hands roamed greedily over her body. Her face, her sides, cupping her breasts through her cami. Her nipples swelled, and I squeezed them both, earning a pained beautiful moan from her. She arched in my hands and pulled away, looking down in wonder at my fingers.

“Does that feel good?”

She nodded.

“Look me in the eye. Always look me in the eye.” She complied, eyes wide and naughty, these jade green orbs teeming with want for me. Me. “Does that feel good?”

“It feels
so
good, Dylan.” Her eyes poured her pleasure to me.

But I wanted more. “Arms up.”

She lifted them without a hint of hesitation. Always good. I pulled her cami off, revealing her tits. Her nipples were bright pink, hard and excited. Her tits were the perfect size. Goosebumps spread across the tops as I cupped them in my palms, swallowing them. It was like they were made for my hands. Hillary pulled in ragged breaths when I palmed her.

“These have got to be the finest tits I’ve ever touched. Soft like silk, warm. They fit perfectly in my hands. What do you think about that?”

Her eyes never left mine.

“Tits? Can’t you call them—”

I grabbed both nipples between my index and thumbs, shutting off her suggestion. “They’re tits to me. Perfect tits with pink nipples that are harder than rocks in my hands. Call them what they are.”

“Dylan.” She writhed, almost close. I could feel her thighs clenching around mine.

I pinched them harder, giving them a twist. She almost fell off the couch.

“Tits,” she moaned. “They are so tits.”

“Perfect tits.” She had to know she was perfect.

“Mmm. Yeah. Perfect.”

“Do they taste good?”

“I don’t know,” she mewed, losing control.

“I’ll let you know.” I wrapped my lips around her nipple and sucked it hard between my teeth, sucking on her hard nub. She arched so far her hair brushed the wooden floor, making me follow. Her body bowed in my arms, giving herself to me. I sucked until I felt her shake. Until she was begging me, limp, pliant—mine in my arms. I pulled her back and settled her on my thigh. And then I wrapped her in my arms, holding her to my chest as she shivered from her orgasm. “Better than good,” I whispered in her ear.

She nodded against me, breaths too loud to speak. As I held her, I rubbed her. I didn’t want to stop. My hands felt her smooth back, the swell of her ass. I couldn’t get enough of her.

“Did you kiss Whitney like that?”

“Like what?” I knew what she meant, but I wanted to hear her say it.